Finished last night... and well, the ending was a bit toss wasn't it? Agree with Will insomuch that one is left scratching one's bonce and wondering what, in all honesty, was the real point of it all. Frankly, I always found the asides into the occult - Trelawney, Mrs Erdleigh etc - mildly amusing, but basically ridiculous and not in keeping with the rest of the cycle. Happy to chalk it up as an odd side-interest of Powell's, but now to have it thrust down our throats as the climax to 3000 pages just seems bizarre, not matter how much Kingsley Amis tries to defend it in the blurb on the back of my copy. Kingsley, old man, you're just wrong.
So, lessons learnt from Powell:
1. There's no great need to stay in touch with friends/acquaintances, you'll bump into them again at some stage. Alternatively, marry into the aristocracy and you'll end up related to most of them.
2. It's not absolutely essential to know one's own childrens' names - you need never refer to them as anything other than "some child".
3. Wives are to be seen but not heard (until the last volume at least).
4. Choice of an appropriate type of coat is essential when at school. Equally important - never let anyone pour sugar over your head, trust me, you'll never hear the last of it.
5. If you want to get on in the post-war literary world, acquire a strange nickname or carry a silly stick around with you.
6. Read Proust. It's just much better.
Anything else...
Friday, 3 July 2009
Wednesday, 1 July 2009
Tempting fate
100 pages into HSH and it's not THAT bad... yet. OK, it probably wouldn't take Mrs Erdleigh to predict that it's about to head steadily downhill, what with Widmerpool's appearance with the Quiggin twins on his arm.
Actually I've really enjoyed this whole section on the Donners book award. I had dinner with one of the Booker Prize judges recently (I'd drop his name in as subtly as the rest of this anecdote, but in truth I can't remember it!) and this was eerily close to the reality he let me in on - both the dubious appointment to such panels and the horror of the lean year. I won't let on which one(s) he considered lean.
Enjoyed Powell's little aside, via Trapnel, declaring that coincidence is just a manifestation of magic. Also, I think I'm enjoying those Proustian glimpses of the past e.g. Widmerpool's dress sense, but not sure we needed to be reminded YET AGAIN of Barbara Goring and the bloody sugar-pouring incident. Honestly, Jenkins does remind me rather of those boorish individuals who are living in the past and constantly recanting "amusing" incidents from the undergraduate days... oh, wait... don't we all do that?
Actually I've really enjoyed this whole section on the Donners book award. I had dinner with one of the Booker Prize judges recently (I'd drop his name in as subtly as the rest of this anecdote, but in truth I can't remember it!) and this was eerily close to the reality he let me in on - both the dubious appointment to such panels and the horror of the lean year. I won't let on which one(s) he considered lean.
Enjoyed Powell's little aside, via Trapnel, declaring that coincidence is just a manifestation of magic. Also, I think I'm enjoying those Proustian glimpses of the past e.g. Widmerpool's dress sense, but not sure we needed to be reminded YET AGAIN of Barbara Goring and the bloody sugar-pouring incident. Honestly, Jenkins does remind me rather of those boorish individuals who are living in the past and constantly recanting "amusing" incidents from the undergraduate days... oh, wait... don't we all do that?
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
On the home stretch
Finished Temporary Kings on Saturday evening, in a bar in Paris as it happens. Popped over on Eurostar to get away post-final examiners' meeting and the carnage of May Week. Amongst other things I dropped in on Marcel (avec la famille Proust) at Pere Lachaise cemetery - he seemed to be doing well (all things considered) and was adorned with fresh flowers for the occasion. Also saw a splendidly silly reconstruction of his cork-lined chambre a la Musee Carnavalet .
Don't especially have an awful lot to add to others' comments about TK. It ambled along nicely, and the final section - told from the POV of Moreland and Odo Stevens (who I side entirely with Isobel on, and absolutely can't stand... what is it about that man?!) was certainly entertaining enough. Also enjoyed the opening sections in Venice and the Tiepolo descriptions. Definitely a different feel about this novel with the introduction of some American characters and a feel that whilst times are a-changing they seem to be passing Jenkins by.
My real Powell highlight came later in the trip's reading. Flaubert's Parrot was my francophile novel of choice - although any Barnes would probably have done - and came across this gem at the start of Chapter 5.
"In the more bookish areas of English middle-class society, whenever a coincidence occurs there is usually someone at hand to comment, 'It's just like Anthony Powell.' Often the coincidence turns out, on the shortest examination, to be unremarkable: typically, it might consist of two acquaintances from school or university running into one another after a gap of several years. But the name of Powell is invoked to give legitimacy to the event; it's rather like getting the priest to bless your car."
Barnes, or at least his protagonist Braithwaite, then launches into a mini-rant about how he doesn't care for coincidence as a plot device, and finishes with this piece of comic brilliance.
"I don't even care for harmless, comic coincidences. I once went out to dinner and discovered that the seven other people present had all just finished reading A Dance to the Music of Time. I didn't relish this: not least because it meant that I didn't break my silence until the cheese course."
Incidentally, Flaubert's Parrot has one of the most perfectly written opening chapters of any novel I have read in recent years, and as a whole works extremely well. I'm a fan of Barnes, as most of you know, and this is as good as any of his... it has a Proust reference too.
Right - silliness coming up this weekend with the Powell denouement, then let's plot a dinner with a cheese course.
Don't especially have an awful lot to add to others' comments about TK. It ambled along nicely, and the final section - told from the POV of Moreland and Odo Stevens (who I side entirely with Isobel on, and absolutely can't stand... what is it about that man?!) was certainly entertaining enough. Also enjoyed the opening sections in Venice and the Tiepolo descriptions. Definitely a different feel about this novel with the introduction of some American characters and a feel that whilst times are a-changing they seem to be passing Jenkins by.
My real Powell highlight came later in the trip's reading. Flaubert's Parrot was my francophile novel of choice - although any Barnes would probably have done - and came across this gem at the start of Chapter 5.
"In the more bookish areas of English middle-class society, whenever a coincidence occurs there is usually someone at hand to comment, 'It's just like Anthony Powell.' Often the coincidence turns out, on the shortest examination, to be unremarkable: typically, it might consist of two acquaintances from school or university running into one another after a gap of several years. But the name of Powell is invoked to give legitimacy to the event; it's rather like getting the priest to bless your car."
Barnes, or at least his protagonist Braithwaite, then launches into a mini-rant about how he doesn't care for coincidence as a plot device, and finishes with this piece of comic brilliance.
"I don't even care for harmless, comic coincidences. I once went out to dinner and discovered that the seven other people present had all just finished reading A Dance to the Music of Time. I didn't relish this: not least because it meant that I didn't break my silence until the cheese course."
Incidentally, Flaubert's Parrot has one of the most perfectly written opening chapters of any novel I have read in recent years, and as a whole works extremely well. I'm a fan of Barnes, as most of you know, and this is as good as any of his... it has a Proust reference too.
Right - silliness coming up this weekend with the Powell denouement, then let's plot a dinner with a cheese course.
Monday, 18 May 2009
By the Books
I finished Books a little over a week ago, having put it off for a while following others' less than glowing reviews. Whilst I agree that it is something of a nothing book, I found it entertaining enough and certainly not a total disaster. OK, Powell seems to be winding down in this one, and really Pamela Widmerpool carries the show - who'd have thought there could be another a character as monsterous as her husband?!? Jenkins' delicate description of the incident with the Chinese urn following Erry's funeral was a total joy. X. Trapnel, on the other hand, I found to be an oddly sympathetic character - perhaps because he represents a combination of about half a dozen other people I have known at one stage or another. The kind of friend you almost pity, except in your heart you know that they bring all their misfortunes on themselves and rarely does it actually bother themselves as much as it does you.
Well, I'm more convinced than ever that taking a break between volumes is the way to proceed... perhaps not with the War trilogy, but by separating these final three I'm at least avoiding tarnishing Books with the same brush as Hearing Secret Harmonies. Let's be honest - we all wanted to like Books because possibly alongside Casanova's Chinese Restaurant, it has the best title of the series. So yah boo! to all you Winter dislikers. This one wasn't too bad really, and I intend to reserve judgement on Temporary Kings for myself.
Happy to concede that HSH is probably a bit rubbish though.
Well, I'm more convinced than ever that taking a break between volumes is the way to proceed... perhaps not with the War trilogy, but by separating these final three I'm at least avoiding tarnishing Books with the same brush as Hearing Secret Harmonies. Let's be honest - we all wanted to like Books because possibly alongside Casanova's Chinese Restaurant, it has the best title of the series. So yah boo! to all you Winter dislikers. This one wasn't too bad really, and I intend to reserve judgement on Temporary Kings for myself.
Happy to concede that HSH is probably a bit rubbish though.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Lagging
I seem to have fallen behind rather - thanks for the lack of spoliers below!
I'd have to agree that Books Do Furnish A Room is a bit, well, nothing-y really. Although I think the two anecdotes offered as an explanation of the title are the ting that will stick with me from the sequence as a whole (so far at least).
I'm still getting the impression that Nick is floating through life: he doesn't have any really strong likes or dislikes, and no one really seems to feel strongly either way about him. Certainly it seems faintly ridiculous that anyone might have turned to him and said 'You make me really randy', which seems to be about as racy as the series gets.
For me the problem isn't so much I don't like the characters as they don't do interesting enough things. They're all so petty, even the monstrous ones like Magnus Donners.
Widmerpool and Pamela have kept me going quite frankly, there's something of the ring of truth about their marriage and they're both so awful at least there's a spark of character to them.
Am looking forward to number 12 if it's silly, thinking at least that might be better than the overall wishy-washyness of the main actors so far.
I'd have to agree that Books Do Furnish A Room is a bit, well, nothing-y really. Although I think the two anecdotes offered as an explanation of the title are the ting that will stick with me from the sequence as a whole (so far at least).
I'm still getting the impression that Nick is floating through life: he doesn't have any really strong likes or dislikes, and no one really seems to feel strongly either way about him. Certainly it seems faintly ridiculous that anyone might have turned to him and said 'You make me really randy', which seems to be about as racy as the series gets.
For me the problem isn't so much I don't like the characters as they don't do interesting enough things. They're all so petty, even the monstrous ones like Magnus Donners.
Widmerpool and Pamela have kept me going quite frankly, there's something of the ring of truth about their marriage and they're both so awful at least there's a spark of character to them.
Am looking forward to number 12 if it's silly, thinking at least that might be better than the overall wishy-washyness of the main actors so far.
Tuesday, 14 April 2009
Grrr. Aaaargh.
To misquote Woody Allen, that's days of my life I'm never going to get back. So I'm not going to spend more days blogging about the wasted days, if you get my meaning....
I will say, though, that I actually liked the end of vol 11, even if it took me a few re-readings to work out what had actually happened. In fact, maybe it was *because* it took me several re-readings to work out what had happened. At least it made me *think*. And it had Moreland.
Having got to the end, I was somewhat disturbed to realise that I only liked four characters - Moreland, Matilda, Stringham (only at the end, mind) and Chips Lovell. I probably would have liked Pennistone if anything remotely interesting had been done with him; I also thought Gwatkin had a bizarre kind of dignity - and of course, as you will all be aware, I don't count Isobel as a character at all. I think it's fair to say that if you only like 4 characters out of a cast of 300, you're not going to find the book as a whole particularly enjoyable either, at least unless the unlikeable characters are masterpieces of delineation (which they're not).
One word, though, in support of Pamela Widmerpool. Thank God for her, frankly, because without her the last 3 volumes would have been pretty unbearable. She is a totally ridiculous character but paradoxically, I think she's the closest Powell gets to painting a fascinating monster with enough of a vulnerable underbelly to pull you in. He just tips it a bit too far. For me, Widmerpool himself just doesn't work at all in the last 3 volumes.
Finally, insofar as it is even remotely positive, what is written above applies only to vols 10 and 11. Volume 12 is honestly the silliest thing I have ever read. And I speak as one who has read all of the early works of Jeffery Archer.
I will say, though, that I actually liked the end of vol 11, even if it took me a few re-readings to work out what had actually happened. In fact, maybe it was *because* it took me several re-readings to work out what had happened. At least it made me *think*. And it had Moreland.
Having got to the end, I was somewhat disturbed to realise that I only liked four characters - Moreland, Matilda, Stringham (only at the end, mind) and Chips Lovell. I probably would have liked Pennistone if anything remotely interesting had been done with him; I also thought Gwatkin had a bizarre kind of dignity - and of course, as you will all be aware, I don't count Isobel as a character at all. I think it's fair to say that if you only like 4 characters out of a cast of 300, you're not going to find the book as a whole particularly enjoyable either, at least unless the unlikeable characters are masterpieces of delineation (which they're not).
One word, though, in support of Pamela Widmerpool. Thank God for her, frankly, because without her the last 3 volumes would have been pretty unbearable. She is a totally ridiculous character but paradoxically, I think she's the closest Powell gets to painting a fascinating monster with enough of a vulnerable underbelly to pull you in. He just tips it a bit too far. For me, Widmerpool himself just doesn't work at all in the last 3 volumes.
Finally, insofar as it is even remotely positive, what is written above applies only to vols 10 and 11. Volume 12 is honestly the silliest thing I have ever read. And I speak as one who has read all of the early works of Jeffery Archer.
It's just not that good, is it?
We're done. A & I both read vols 10-12 in Brazil. As warned, vol 12 is rubbish. 10 & 11 are harder to describe: they're not without amusing moments - in fact they are a lot less serious than the preceding nine. Equally, there are some well drawn characters, old and new (needed after the cull in the war). That said though, it continues to lack depth, coherence and, well, point.
Take Books... for example, it's all a bit random: a few new people; some old characters and cameos. Nothing happens, and in a really inconsequential way. If they were diaries, this would be interesting (up to a point) because it would be real. But it's not, and it just sort of meanders along in a not unpleasant way for 200 odd pages before we do it again.
Around this time last year, when we finished Proust there was a real sense of achievement, not because of it's claimed taut, fast-moving plot, but because the immersion in interior detail of its characters and the excellence of some of the writing (though I don't the final volumes worked) gave it weight, even in some of its more ridiculous moments. Powell fails to do this. We get glimpses of an interesting world, but we'd be better off reading the journals, and there are better novels.
Take Books... for example, it's all a bit random: a few new people; some old characters and cameos. Nothing happens, and in a really inconsequential way. If they were diaries, this would be interesting (up to a point) because it would be real. But it's not, and it just sort of meanders along in a not unpleasant way for 200 odd pages before we do it again.
Around this time last year, when we finished Proust there was a real sense of achievement, not because of it's claimed taut, fast-moving plot, but because the immersion in interior detail of its characters and the excellence of some of the writing (though I don't the final volumes worked) gave it weight, even in some of its more ridiculous moments. Powell fails to do this. We get glimpses of an interesting world, but we'd be better off reading the journals, and there are better novels.
Monday, 23 March 2009
Philosopy is for wimps
I made it! I've caught up! The one good thing about a 4 hour train journey to Wales to watch us lose the rugby (Stephen Jones, in the astronomically unlikely event that you're reading this, I want you to know that I haven't forgiven you yet) is that it gives one plenty of time for Powell-perusal.
So, yet again, I find myself trying to blog without really being able to remember what happened in this volume and what happened elsewhere. Maybe it's best if I concentrate on the bits I absolutely know for sure happened in this one - and in particular, the Widmerpool/Pamela Flitton scrap near the end. I didn't really know what to do with this. It is beyond doubt that Widmerpool is Not A Nice Man. But he didn't send Charles Stringham to his death. He put him in a unit he knew might be going to the Far East; Stringham was given the opportunity to get out, and he didn't take it because he wanted to go. Good for Stringham. It wasn't as though England had much to offer him. And then there's Templer. The way I read Pamela's rant, when combined with Widmerpool's responses, was that Templer was sent out to court a particular set of interests; British interests then turned another way and operations didn't bother to get Templer out. Widmerpool probably could have done more, but that doesn't make him a murderer. And then I got really confused because I couldn't work out whether we were meant to think that Pamela's outburst was over-the-top and wrong, or over-the-top but right. She's been portrayed throughout this volume as an unreliable narrator, but Widmerpool is meant to be a monster, right? So are we meant to believe her, or him? Is Powell being clever, using an unreliable narrator to attack Widmerpool and thus leaving us to draw our own conclusions? Or is he just using Pamela to make his own points about Widmerpool? - which doesn't work, because we can't believe her to be an authentic voice. Aaaargh!
I've got so irritated writing this that I really can't remember who did what with whom in this one. I quite enjoyed seeing Mrs Erdleigh again. Always nice to have Ted Jeavons knocking around. The military attaches were quite fun. Didn't see the point in the return of Kedward. Etc, etc.
However, I do think that this volume provides further support for my theory about Powell's attitude towards women (see last post) - he compares Pamela Flitton to Audrey Maclintick twice in The Military Philosophers. Will thinks I should add another category - completely subservient women who say nothing controversial and look decorative, and are therefore Suitable For Marriage (i.e. Isobel). I am not sure that this is warranted, as I still don't accept Isobel is a real character (as opposed to, say, some insipid wallpaper that hoves into view from time to time).
So, yet again, I find myself trying to blog without really being able to remember what happened in this volume and what happened elsewhere. Maybe it's best if I concentrate on the bits I absolutely know for sure happened in this one - and in particular, the Widmerpool/Pamela Flitton scrap near the end. I didn't really know what to do with this. It is beyond doubt that Widmerpool is Not A Nice Man. But he didn't send Charles Stringham to his death. He put him in a unit he knew might be going to the Far East; Stringham was given the opportunity to get out, and he didn't take it because he wanted to go. Good for Stringham. It wasn't as though England had much to offer him. And then there's Templer. The way I read Pamela's rant, when combined with Widmerpool's responses, was that Templer was sent out to court a particular set of interests; British interests then turned another way and operations didn't bother to get Templer out. Widmerpool probably could have done more, but that doesn't make him a murderer. And then I got really confused because I couldn't work out whether we were meant to think that Pamela's outburst was over-the-top and wrong, or over-the-top but right. She's been portrayed throughout this volume as an unreliable narrator, but Widmerpool is meant to be a monster, right? So are we meant to believe her, or him? Is Powell being clever, using an unreliable narrator to attack Widmerpool and thus leaving us to draw our own conclusions? Or is he just using Pamela to make his own points about Widmerpool? - which doesn't work, because we can't believe her to be an authentic voice. Aaaargh!
I've got so irritated writing this that I really can't remember who did what with whom in this one. I quite enjoyed seeing Mrs Erdleigh again. Always nice to have Ted Jeavons knocking around. The military attaches were quite fun. Didn't see the point in the return of Kedward. Etc, etc.
However, I do think that this volume provides further support for my theory about Powell's attitude towards women (see last post) - he compares Pamela Flitton to Audrey Maclintick twice in The Military Philosophers. Will thinks I should add another category - completely subservient women who say nothing controversial and look decorative, and are therefore Suitable For Marriage (i.e. Isobel). I am not sure that this is warranted, as I still don't accept Isobel is a real character (as opposed to, say, some insipid wallpaper that hoves into view from time to time).
Thursday, 19 March 2009
Dark Arts
Well, 'The Soldier's Art' isn't a cheery volume, is it? Although I did rather enjoy the last section, with both Widmerpool and Hogbourne-Johnson having rather an unpleasant time of it. Enjoy might be too strong a word, what with the story about Biggs hanging himself interspersed amongst the amusement - but as I'd forgotten who Biggs was by that point, it had less impact than it might have done. I did wonder whether Powell might deliberately have included the death of a minor character, who he would have expected to have fallen off the reader's radar, as an indicator of the callousness of war and those who are forced to live through it. But going on past evidence, that's not really his style. Anyway, it was hardly up with 'All Quiet on the Western Front'.
These war ones rather merge into a single whole, don't they? Again, I've had to flick back through the book to remind myself what happened in this one, rather than in The Valley of Bones. I was glad to see Stringham and Moreland again. My early dislike of Stringham has entirely evaporated and I now think he's great. This is probably helped by Powell's habit of giving Stringham (and to a lesser extent Moreland) all of his most insightful lines. I know we're supposed to see Stringham's arc as tragic, but I like him much more now than I did when he was a snobby schoolboy, and I think he's probably much more use in this guise than he would have been otherwise. Moreland, now that's really sad. He just doesn't seem to be able to cope with things at all, poor lamb. The whole idea of Mrs Maclintick feeding off her helpless, indecisive 'children' is deeply disturbing. Maybe Powell thought all women were, at base, either like Mrs Maclintick, or alternatively faithless, like Matilda and Priscilla. That would explain a lot.
I did find this volume moving, far more so than The Valley of Bones. I think I was most upset by Chips Lovell's death. He always seemed like a nice, happy-go-lucky bloke, so much more normal than most people in the Powell-iverse. I think I might have liked him if I'd met him at a party. Whereas I think I'd probably run away from most of the rest of them screaming.
These war ones rather merge into a single whole, don't they? Again, I've had to flick back through the book to remind myself what happened in this one, rather than in The Valley of Bones. I was glad to see Stringham and Moreland again. My early dislike of Stringham has entirely evaporated and I now think he's great. This is probably helped by Powell's habit of giving Stringham (and to a lesser extent Moreland) all of his most insightful lines. I know we're supposed to see Stringham's arc as tragic, but I like him much more now than I did when he was a snobby schoolboy, and I think he's probably much more use in this guise than he would have been otherwise. Moreland, now that's really sad. He just doesn't seem to be able to cope with things at all, poor lamb. The whole idea of Mrs Maclintick feeding off her helpless, indecisive 'children' is deeply disturbing. Maybe Powell thought all women were, at base, either like Mrs Maclintick, or alternatively faithless, like Matilda and Priscilla. That would explain a lot.
I did find this volume moving, far more so than The Valley of Bones. I think I was most upset by Chips Lovell's death. He always seemed like a nice, happy-go-lucky bloke, so much more normal than most people in the Powell-iverse. I think I might have liked him if I'd met him at a party. Whereas I think I'd probably run away from most of the rest of them screaming.
Monday, 16 March 2009
Happy Xmas (The War is Over)
Polished off The Military Philosophers last night, and as we prepare to move into the winter section I felt it was appropriate to name this post after the supremely rubbish John Lennon Christmas song. It was, at least, better than Paul McCartney's effort, but that isn't saying much.
Goodness, Widmerpool is a complete shit isn't he?
I'd always retained some vestige of sympathy for him - it wasn't his fault he had the wrong coat at school after all - but after the revelations of this volume, the hand he may or may not have had in certain unfortunate deaths and his hideous confession to Jenkins re: the power he so obviously craves, all sympathy is gone. It's fairly clear that Powell believes that Widmerpool and the Labour Party deserve each other, but that seems very harsh on the Atlee government.
Hooray for the long and ridiculous Proust sequence though. A whole page of a quotation and a little trip to C-A-B-O-U-R-G. As silly as it is, I know that I too would be examining the esplanade for Albertine and her companions in polo caps, and hunting out the railway to take a trip to the Verdurins' villa. I very much enjoyed Jenkins' moment of excitement, which he relates this to his French companion only to be met with disappointment as he finds out that the chap hasn't even heard of Proust, let alone read him... I know that feeling well.
Overall, quite a tragic book this one, and the routine way in which death is dealt with is profoundly disturbing, particularly since some much-loved and key characters are struck down. Very much a pared-down cast in the final three volumes I expect - I'm resisting plot spoilers, so Anna you'll have to wait to see if your beloved Moreland survives. Nice to have a cameo appearance from the former Mrs Dupont, nee Jean Templer at the close. Also, does Powell think that Pamela Flitton counts as a believable female character? Rather speaks volumes about his attitude towards the fairer sex, doesn't it?
Goodness, Widmerpool is a complete shit isn't he?
I'd always retained some vestige of sympathy for him - it wasn't his fault he had the wrong coat at school after all - but after the revelations of this volume, the hand he may or may not have had in certain unfortunate deaths and his hideous confession to Jenkins re: the power he so obviously craves, all sympathy is gone. It's fairly clear that Powell believes that Widmerpool and the Labour Party deserve each other, but that seems very harsh on the Atlee government.
Hooray for the long and ridiculous Proust sequence though. A whole page of a quotation and a little trip to C-A-B-O-U-R-G. As silly as it is, I know that I too would be examining the esplanade for Albertine and her companions in polo caps, and hunting out the railway to take a trip to the Verdurins' villa. I very much enjoyed Jenkins' moment of excitement, which he relates this to his French companion only to be met with disappointment as he finds out that the chap hasn't even heard of Proust, let alone read him... I know that feeling well.
Overall, quite a tragic book this one, and the routine way in which death is dealt with is profoundly disturbing, particularly since some much-loved and key characters are struck down. Very much a pared-down cast in the final three volumes I expect - I'm resisting plot spoilers, so Anna you'll have to wait to see if your beloved Moreland survives. Nice to have a cameo appearance from the former Mrs Dupont, nee Jean Templer at the close. Also, does Powell think that Pamela Flitton counts as a believable female character? Rather speaks volumes about his attitude towards the fairer sex, doesn't it?
Saturday, 14 March 2009
I would be a lot keener on giving this a nice Welsh title...
....if we had played better against Italy today.
Oh well.
I am getting slightly concerned that I am in fact the only person left Powell-blogging. What has happened to the rest of you guys? It's not that I don't like the sound of my own voice, but I am getting a tad concerned that the rest of you will get seriously fed up with me if you don't join in soon.
Anyway. The Valley of Bones. Not much happened, did it?
Things I liked:
- Jimmy Brent's new take on the Jean Duport story. I do like the way we keep getting this from different angles. It's probably the cleverest part of the series so far, and it seems to be the main vehicle for Nick's character progression.
- The Lord Haw Haw part. The first time I've ever read anything to give me any idea of the kind of thing he said. I loved the weird pronounciation of Germany.
- Gwatkin. Yeah, he has a silly name, and he's clearly a total weirdo, but he has a certain dignity which he keeps on his own terms, and which makes his downfall a wee bit sad.
- Deafy Morgan. How can you not like Deafy Morgan?
- The speed with which Nick went from being pleased to see you know who at the end to realising that old schoolmates don't necessarily make things better.
Things I really didn't like:
- Look you, spoilsport I do not want to be, but say I would that the people of the valleys DON'T SPEAK LIKE THIS. Nor do the ones from Anglesey, for that matter.
- Oh look, my wife might be in a house somewhere in the country about to have a baby. Do I give a shit? No I do not.
I acknowledge that this last is becoming a recurring theme. Perhaps I should just use a code word - like chauvinist - for future reference?
Oh well.
I am getting slightly concerned that I am in fact the only person left Powell-blogging. What has happened to the rest of you guys? It's not that I don't like the sound of my own voice, but I am getting a tad concerned that the rest of you will get seriously fed up with me if you don't join in soon.
Anyway. The Valley of Bones. Not much happened, did it?
Things I liked:
- Jimmy Brent's new take on the Jean Duport story. I do like the way we keep getting this from different angles. It's probably the cleverest part of the series so far, and it seems to be the main vehicle for Nick's character progression.
- The Lord Haw Haw part. The first time I've ever read anything to give me any idea of the kind of thing he said. I loved the weird pronounciation of Germany.
- Gwatkin. Yeah, he has a silly name, and he's clearly a total weirdo, but he has a certain dignity which he keeps on his own terms, and which makes his downfall a wee bit sad.
- Deafy Morgan. How can you not like Deafy Morgan?
- The speed with which Nick went from being pleased to see you know who at the end to realising that old schoolmates don't necessarily make things better.
Things I really didn't like:
- Look you, spoilsport I do not want to be, but say I would that the people of the valleys DON'T SPEAK LIKE THIS. Nor do the ones from Anglesey, for that matter.
- Oh look, my wife might be in a house somewhere in the country about to have a baby. Do I give a shit? No I do not.
I acknowledge that this last is becoming a recurring theme. Perhaps I should just use a code word - like chauvinist - for future reference?
Monday, 9 March 2009
The Original
After I posted yesterday I went to the Wallace Collection where I saw the original of the painting that gives its title to the novel sequence (and thus indirectly to this blog). I wish I could say that it gave me great inspiration to get on with The Valley of Bones, but in fact I have never liked Poussin much and this one was no exception. I don't understand why he felt the need to work in a colour scheme which makes everyone look as though they're lit up by a raging fire which, strangely, you can't see in the picture.
I am sure, however, that this is down to my lack of knowledge about The Art.
I am sure, however, that this is down to my lack of knowledge about The Art.
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Not winning any kindly competitions...
Finally finished 'The Kindly Ones', which took me rather longer than I had intended. However, the nice thing about bringing up the rear is that I can read back over everyone else's posts and see what they thought. Somewhat surprisingly, you may think (seen as we may generally give the impression that we don't agree on anything at all) I agree more with Will than with Andrew & Elliot about this one.
Perhaps it's because I read it somewhat sporadically, but I found the whole thing a bit, well, bitty. I liked the childhood 'memoir' but I felt that, because it was so long, it threw the whole of the book out of kilter. You have this long, funny and quite touching section which leads on to....something entirely unconnected. And then there are several more unconnected bits before we end with poor, lovely Moreland turning up, looking all dazed and confused, at Molly Jeavons' house. Glad as I was to see him again, I'd had several attacks of 'where-is-this-all-going-itis' before I got there. I had to flick back through the book to try to remember what had happened after I finished it, and now I think that wasn't because I read it in bits here and there (I did that with 'Casanova's Chinese Restaurant' and had no problems remembering that one) but because, whilst there are a number of nice vignettes, they are just that - vignettes - without much to link them.
I do tend to lose interest to a degree when the characters I like aren't around and - given that there aren't very many of those - this may be a bit of a problem. I am encouraged to see that Moreland crops up in later volumes, and I am hoping that Matilda's defection to Donners won't be permanent, although I am quite keen to find out what he gets up to in his cellars. Bit of a Max Mosley moment, perhaps?
I do agree with Elliot, though, when he says that Nick has become more bearable in this volume. You see a bit of self-awareness poking through, which is nice. I almost liked him in the part when he went to collect Uncle Giles' belongings and met up with Duport again. Having said that, the entire absence of Isobel - or even any concern about Isobel - throughout the narrative was, as usual, a bit offensive, speaking as one of those decorative little women things.
Perhaps it's because I read it somewhat sporadically, but I found the whole thing a bit, well, bitty. I liked the childhood 'memoir' but I felt that, because it was so long, it threw the whole of the book out of kilter. You have this long, funny and quite touching section which leads on to....something entirely unconnected. And then there are several more unconnected bits before we end with poor, lovely Moreland turning up, looking all dazed and confused, at Molly Jeavons' house. Glad as I was to see him again, I'd had several attacks of 'where-is-this-all-going-itis' before I got there. I had to flick back through the book to try to remember what had happened after I finished it, and now I think that wasn't because I read it in bits here and there (I did that with 'Casanova's Chinese Restaurant' and had no problems remembering that one) but because, whilst there are a number of nice vignettes, they are just that - vignettes - without much to link them.
I do tend to lose interest to a degree when the characters I like aren't around and - given that there aren't very many of those - this may be a bit of a problem. I am encouraged to see that Moreland crops up in later volumes, and I am hoping that Matilda's defection to Donners won't be permanent, although I am quite keen to find out what he gets up to in his cellars. Bit of a Max Mosley moment, perhaps?
I do agree with Elliot, though, when he says that Nick has become more bearable in this volume. You see a bit of self-awareness poking through, which is nice. I almost liked him in the part when he went to collect Uncle Giles' belongings and met up with Duport again. Having said that, the entire absence of Isobel - or even any concern about Isobel - throughout the narrative was, as usual, a bit offensive, speaking as one of those decorative little women things.
Friday, 27 February 2009
Death of death, and Hell's destruction...
The Soldier's Art was dark, powerful and yet somehow enjoyable too. This is a very Powellian war, as I think Will commented, with the random coincidences even creeping into the harrowing death scenes. I did, incidentally, enjoy Powell's acknowledgement of the Powellian coincidences, or what he calls "those Nietzschean reoccurances". Completely unsurprised that Pennistone (chap from the train in VB) turned out to be significant, although he doesn't seem to have fulfilled his full Powellian potential as yet.
Great to see Moreland back - I agree with Anna, he is a sweetie, and as for Stringham's benign resignation... just you wait.
The literary references are simply great - Trollope and Balzac, though just one Proust reference so far - to Robert de Saint-Loup's hat of all things... Will assures me that the Balbec scene is coming up soon with Jenkins' deployment to France. I love the idea that someone could be considered for a job on the grounds that they have read some of Balzac in the French, but also enjoyed the fact that, against all expectations, Jenkins didn't get it.
Speaking of Welsh troops, and deployments to France, of sorts, am getting nervous about tonight's encounter in Paris. Hope to be landed safe on Canaan's side by 10 pm.
Am going to hit the Military Philosophers next week, but slightly concerned that Widmerpool's turn will be a diminished one in this next book. Goodness, that man's turned into a monster, but a rather fun one at that.
Great to see Moreland back - I agree with Anna, he is a sweetie, and as for Stringham's benign resignation... just you wait.
The literary references are simply great - Trollope and Balzac, though just one Proust reference so far - to Robert de Saint-Loup's hat of all things... Will assures me that the Balbec scene is coming up soon with Jenkins' deployment to France. I love the idea that someone could be considered for a job on the grounds that they have read some of Balzac in the French, but also enjoyed the fact that, against all expectations, Jenkins didn't get it.
Speaking of Welsh troops, and deployments to France, of sorts, am getting nervous about tonight's encounter in Paris. Hope to be landed safe on Canaan's side by 10 pm.
Am going to hit the Military Philosophers next week, but slightly concerned that Widmerpool's turn will be a diminished one in this next book. Goodness, that man's turned into a monster, but a rather fun one at that.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Inexcusable delay
It would be fair to say that my Powell blogging has been sporadic at best and, well, pretty much non-existent at worst. So here is my first attempt to make amends. Whilst I have been under time constraints I think I was also put off by the fact that (a) I couldn't remember much about vols 1 - 3 by the time I got back from holiday (extreme cold and liberal alcohol consumption have that effect on me) and (b) I finished vol 4 a while back and then never got round to blogging, and then forgot what I wanted to say.
And really, Casanova's Chinese Restaurant - which I finished this morning, so you get this fresh from the presses, so to speak - has been the first one that I've really *wanted* to write something about. I actually like some of the people in it! I was moved to describe Moreland to Will as a "sweetheart". OK, so that was before his little dalliance with Priscilla Tolland, but even by the end of the novel, I still liked him. I was also pleased to find at least one semi-realised female character - not Jenkins' wife, as one might expect (although now I come to think about it, Powell has given us absolutely no reason to expect that his wife would feature as a fully-rounded character), but Matilda. I do hope she turns up again in later volumes, although I suspect I may be disappointed on that front.
The other section which surprised me was Stringham's appearance at his mother's party. I don't mean I was surprised by his turning up; as various posters have pointed out, people 'turn up' in Powell ad nauseam. Incidentally, whilst I was initially bothered by this, I'm not any more. Only last night I met a woman at a Welsh Lawyers do who I'd last seen doing an internship at Lovells about 10 years ago. These things happen, particularly in small communities such as, er, the Welsh community in London. Anyway, I digress. I was surprised by how moving I found the whole description of Stringham's effective incarceration by Tuffy. I had no great fondness for him in the early volumes; whilst he was meant to be charismatic, that didn't really come across in the writing, and he was also rather cruel. But in the scene at the party Powell manages to give a real sense of wasted potential, and I thought Stringham's docile acceptance of his lot in life was well done and very sad.
I can't make my mind up about McClintick's suicide - I was never particularly sure about him as a character (although I thought the marital despair bit was pretty good) and it almost felt a little tagged on at the end. I did like the sudden plunge into 'everything's rubbish and we're all going to die' in the ghost train bit in the last paragraph, though. I thought it worked much better than Powell's previous random musings at the end of the other novels, which seemed designed to make what is essentially an upper class soap opera (can't claim credit for this, description kindly donated by a colleague) seem more profound than it in fact is.
One thing is really bothering me, though. I get that you pronounce St John as 'Sinjean' or 'Sinjun' or something along those lines. But how do you pronounce 'St. J' as various characters will insist on calling him? Every time it comes up I sit there for, ooh, at least 30 seconds pondering this. Is it 'SinJe'? 'Singe'? I feel this obsession is beginning to destroy the flow of my reading. Any answers will be most welcome - although as the poor old chap has now popped his clogs, I assume there will be less of the 'Singe'-ing in future.
Right, have wasted enough time wittering on and I am sure I've bored you all rigid. I march onward to The Kindly Ones. By the way, I am assuming no-one minds spoilers as I am so far behind the rest of you; if anyone is bothered (Daniel, I have no idea whether you're still reading) let me know and I will be good next time.
And really, Casanova's Chinese Restaurant - which I finished this morning, so you get this fresh from the presses, so to speak - has been the first one that I've really *wanted* to write something about. I actually like some of the people in it! I was moved to describe Moreland to Will as a "sweetheart". OK, so that was before his little dalliance with Priscilla Tolland, but even by the end of the novel, I still liked him. I was also pleased to find at least one semi-realised female character - not Jenkins' wife, as one might expect (although now I come to think about it, Powell has given us absolutely no reason to expect that his wife would feature as a fully-rounded character), but Matilda. I do hope she turns up again in later volumes, although I suspect I may be disappointed on that front.
The other section which surprised me was Stringham's appearance at his mother's party. I don't mean I was surprised by his turning up; as various posters have pointed out, people 'turn up' in Powell ad nauseam. Incidentally, whilst I was initially bothered by this, I'm not any more. Only last night I met a woman at a Welsh Lawyers do who I'd last seen doing an internship at Lovells about 10 years ago. These things happen, particularly in small communities such as, er, the Welsh community in London. Anyway, I digress. I was surprised by how moving I found the whole description of Stringham's effective incarceration by Tuffy. I had no great fondness for him in the early volumes; whilst he was meant to be charismatic, that didn't really come across in the writing, and he was also rather cruel. But in the scene at the party Powell manages to give a real sense of wasted potential, and I thought Stringham's docile acceptance of his lot in life was well done and very sad.
I can't make my mind up about McClintick's suicide - I was never particularly sure about him as a character (although I thought the marital despair bit was pretty good) and it almost felt a little tagged on at the end. I did like the sudden plunge into 'everything's rubbish and we're all going to die' in the ghost train bit in the last paragraph, though. I thought it worked much better than Powell's previous random musings at the end of the other novels, which seemed designed to make what is essentially an upper class soap opera (can't claim credit for this, description kindly donated by a colleague) seem more profound than it in fact is.
One thing is really bothering me, though. I get that you pronounce St John as 'Sinjean' or 'Sinjun' or something along those lines. But how do you pronounce 'St. J' as various characters will insist on calling him? Every time it comes up I sit there for, ooh, at least 30 seconds pondering this. Is it 'SinJe'? 'Singe'? I feel this obsession is beginning to destroy the flow of my reading. Any answers will be most welcome - although as the poor old chap has now popped his clogs, I assume there will be less of the 'Singe'-ing in future.
Right, have wasted enough time wittering on and I am sure I've bored you all rigid. I march onward to The Kindly Ones. By the way, I am assuming no-one minds spoilers as I am so far behind the rest of you; if anyone is bothered (Daniel, I have no idea whether you're still reading) let me know and I will be good next time.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Feed me 'til I want no more
Not an excuse to fan the flames of regional British nationalism in the aftermath of last Saturday afternoon's titanic battle, but instead to echo Jenkins' regimental hymn, or more likely Powell's shameless Welsh stereotyping.
Finished VB about a week ago but have been slow to blog. Funny volume this, not a lot seems to happen and yet so much does. Jenkins' posting in Wales, transfer to NI, the birth of his child, the fall of Gwatkins and the inexorable rise of you know who. I very much enjoyed the weekend with the Tollands, but the final ten pages take the award for best moment, being played out to absolute perfection with superb comic timing. The series as a whole has probably benefitted from the cabinet re-shuffle of Jenkins close acquaintances, although it's not clear which of them we shall see again - Bithel, yes (he's already cropped up in the first few pages of SA), but Kedward or Gwatkins? Actually, what am I saying? As we all know, if there's a random coincidence to be had along the way, Powell will make sure of it.
So a good volume, but very much along the lines of A Question of Upbringing, full of signifiers of things to come, but slightly insubstantial in itself. Have had a brief Powell break to read Falling Towards England (the second volume of Clive James' excellent Unreliable Memoirs, complete with references to both Proust and Trinity Hall) and Ian McEwan's ever-so-horrific but utterly gripping debut, The Cement Garden. Started SA properly this morning, so will blog again in a week or so, when finished.
Forward march!
Finished VB about a week ago but have been slow to blog. Funny volume this, not a lot seems to happen and yet so much does. Jenkins' posting in Wales, transfer to NI, the birth of his child, the fall of Gwatkins and the inexorable rise of you know who. I very much enjoyed the weekend with the Tollands, but the final ten pages take the award for best moment, being played out to absolute perfection with superb comic timing. The series as a whole has probably benefitted from the cabinet re-shuffle of Jenkins close acquaintances, although it's not clear which of them we shall see again - Bithel, yes (he's already cropped up in the first few pages of SA), but Kedward or Gwatkins? Actually, what am I saying? As we all know, if there's a random coincidence to be had along the way, Powell will make sure of it.
So a good volume, but very much along the lines of A Question of Upbringing, full of signifiers of things to come, but slightly insubstantial in itself. Have had a brief Powell break to read Falling Towards England (the second volume of Clive James' excellent Unreliable Memoirs, complete with references to both Proust and Trinity Hall) and Ian McEwan's ever-so-horrific but utterly gripping debut, The Cement Garden. Started SA properly this morning, so will blog again in a week or so, when finished.
Forward march!
Monday, 9 February 2009
Oh! What a lovely war
I know, it's the wrong war, but the title was too good to miss.
I haven't yet finished the military philosophers, but the war novels are great. For a start we get a bit of a shuffling of the character deck, so while Jenkins does manage to bump into his old school triumvirate (briefly in some cases; at length in one case), there are new figures to play with. Secondly, I think it conveys the nature of the war pretty well. I don't mean the visceral bloodiness of battle. So far the furthest Jenkins has gone is Northern Ireland, but the total commandeering of the country for the war effort and the routine regularity of death (though Powell can never quite resist coincidence here either). I'll do some fuller thoughts once I've finished the set, but it's also very obvious that these were meant to be read in a set. While there is genuine sequencing of the novels, they are very clearly episodes from one text, more so than the rest of the sequence, which while it has an overarching unity, doesn't appear to tie very tightly together. These three (so far) do.
As an aside, Andrew and I discussed the interesting problem that once we have finished Powell, we will have read more books by Powell than almost any other author (I intend to really make that true by hitting the journals after the Dance is done). Off the cuff, I could hardly think of any authors of whom I have read more than 12 books. However, the benefits of a books database allows me to check. Here are my most read authors (Some are estimates, and it's based on volumes, not page volume):
I haven't yet finished the military philosophers, but the war novels are great. For a start we get a bit of a shuffling of the character deck, so while Jenkins does manage to bump into his old school triumvirate (briefly in some cases; at length in one case), there are new figures to play with. Secondly, I think it conveys the nature of the war pretty well. I don't mean the visceral bloodiness of battle. So far the furthest Jenkins has gone is Northern Ireland, but the total commandeering of the country for the war effort and the routine regularity of death (though Powell can never quite resist coincidence here either). I'll do some fuller thoughts once I've finished the set, but it's also very obvious that these were meant to be read in a set. While there is genuine sequencing of the novels, they are very clearly episodes from one text, more so than the rest of the sequence, which while it has an overarching unity, doesn't appear to tie very tightly together. These three (so far) do.
As an aside, Andrew and I discussed the interesting problem that once we have finished Powell, we will have read more books by Powell than almost any other author (I intend to really make that true by hitting the journals after the Dance is done). Off the cuff, I could hardly think of any authors of whom I have read more than 12 books. However, the benefits of a books database allows me to check. Here are my most read authors (Some are estimates, and it's based on volumes, not page volume):
- Elinor M. Brent-Dyer (63. All of the Chalet School and one other)
- Agatha Christie (no idea how many. We've got the lot, but I've probably read about 50)
- Terry Pratchett (20)
- Isaac Azimov (16)
- David Eddings (16)
- Iain Banks (15)
- Laurence Durrell (15)
- Margaret Weis & Tracey Hickman (about 15)
- Anthony Trollope (13. Actually this is 10, but I'm hitting the second half of the Paliser novels after The Military Philosphers)
- C.S. Lewis, (13. I have 11, and I've definitely read some of the SF)
- Philip K. Dick (12)
Most of these are genre fiction (I've probably forgotten a handful of other similar ones) - only Durrell, Trollope and Lewis can be described as substantial and material writers in a wider sphere , though I would make a claim for for many of the others, especially Dick and early Banks.
The list of authors just below 12 books read makes for interesting reading:
- Two authors come in at 11. Rushdie (will hit 12 this year with the latest) and Greene, which will only increase over time
- No 10s or 9s, so already I have read more Powell than all but 13 authors
- 8. Ian McEwan, Anthony Burgess (very surprising)
- 7. Patrick Leigh Fermor, Marcel Proust, Josoph Conrad, Stephen Runciman, Paul Theroux, V.S. Naipaul, Douglas Adams, Paul Scott, Proust, Arthur C. Clarke, Kingsley Amis
This last is where the non-fiction really begins to kick in. I'm pleased it gets a Byzantinist in the list (actually I think Runciman should be higher, but my other reading of his may be all articles), and Proust.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Kinder, gentler
Just polished off TKO and will attempt to post without spoilers. Broadly speaking I'm enjoying things a lot more, partly I'm sure it's having an unbroken run at the books so I do actually remember the vague outline of what's going on and who had done what to whom.
I'm something of a fan of Vol. 6, the end of chapter one where Nicholas casually recites a litany of the dead fathers of the neighbourhood was the first time I've felt an emotional engagement with any of the books. I thought the build-up to that moment entirely justified and the foreshadowing of Nick's own war portentous but not overdone.
I'm even coming around to the random-meeting-up-ness of it all, justifying it in my own mind by thinking that actually his social circle isn't huge and at least he's now related to a fair number of the people he's talking about.
His marriage itself, or at least the way it is presented, I still find hugely problematic, although The Kindly Ones as a title probably offers as bald a clue as you'll get as to Nick/Powell's attitude towards women.
Having said that I have warmed to Nicholas, what I had missed before was his self-deprecation and the way his elder self looks back on his younger self's behaviour with a kind of horror. I excavated some undergraduate essays a few months ago and had a similar feeling (I wonder, incidentally, how long it will take to garner the same shudder of shame from these posts). Nick may be bland but he is a fairly decent chap, even feeling a pang of guilt for not rushing to the defence of Widmerpool of all people when discussing him with Duport.
Widmerpool and Donners dominate the book even when they're not around very much, and I'm very much enjoying the innuendo about what Donners' peccadilloes may or may not be. Both he and Widders seem pretty scary, especially in the case of Widmerpool where you've had the added benefit of seeing him at several intermediate stages. As a reader you know more about him, really, than even Nick. Sir Magnus on the other hand, remains mysterious but no less malevolently interesting.
So if I'm right, this puts me more in the Andrew camp than the Will camp with regard to TKO. Roll on Autumn...
I'm something of a fan of Vol. 6, the end of chapter one where Nicholas casually recites a litany of the dead fathers of the neighbourhood was the first time I've felt an emotional engagement with any of the books. I thought the build-up to that moment entirely justified and the foreshadowing of Nick's own war portentous but not overdone.
I'm even coming around to the random-meeting-up-ness of it all, justifying it in my own mind by thinking that actually his social circle isn't huge and at least he's now related to a fair number of the people he's talking about.
His marriage itself, or at least the way it is presented, I still find hugely problematic, although The Kindly Ones as a title probably offers as bald a clue as you'll get as to Nick/Powell's attitude towards women.
Having said that I have warmed to Nicholas, what I had missed before was his self-deprecation and the way his elder self looks back on his younger self's behaviour with a kind of horror. I excavated some undergraduate essays a few months ago and had a similar feeling (I wonder, incidentally, how long it will take to garner the same shudder of shame from these posts). Nick may be bland but he is a fairly decent chap, even feeling a pang of guilt for not rushing to the defence of Widmerpool of all people when discussing him with Duport.
Widmerpool and Donners dominate the book even when they're not around very much, and I'm very much enjoying the innuendo about what Donners' peccadilloes may or may not be. Both he and Widders seem pretty scary, especially in the case of Widmerpool where you've had the added benefit of seeing him at several intermediate stages. As a reader you know more about him, really, than even Nick. Sir Magnus on the other hand, remains mysterious but no less malevolently interesting.
So if I'm right, this puts me more in the Andrew camp than the Will camp with regard to TKO. Roll on Autumn...
Friday, 23 January 2009
Baby Powellanaut
Hello everyone! Thanks for inviting me, Andrew.
As Will says, I did indeed read vols 1 - 3 whilst on holiday and will (despite my earlier reluctance) attempt to entertain you with my erudite musings (ahem) once I have finished the submissions I am writing on my 7 week equal pay case. Which, as I am sure you can imagine, are taking up most of my time at present.
As Will says, I did indeed read vols 1 - 3 whilst on holiday and will (despite my earlier reluctance) attempt to entertain you with my erudite musings (ahem) once I have finished the submissions I am writing on my 7 week equal pay case. Which, as I am sure you can imagine, are taking up most of my time at present.
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
Across the pond
Well signally failed to read anything while away but made some progress with ALM on the flight back.
Only a hundred or so pages in but very tickled by the early assertions that the most important/interesting things in life are those random meetings-up that happen without any conscious attempts to do so.
Am suffering slightly from the fact that everyone seems to be so dashed repellant. Widders is getting more and more unpleasant and I would quite happily see Quiggin and Erridge up against the wall when the revolution came.
Have to say did also wonder if Nick was going to confess a passion for one of his old school chums after the blithely dismissive reference to his date at the cinema. Although the nest of lesbians is quite hilarious, Powell makes them sound positively depraved.
All in all I'm still finding it a little annoying but rather enjoyable, perhaps a short break away from them has rekindled my fervour...
Who awards the Widmerpool prize?
Only a hundred or so pages in but very tickled by the early assertions that the most important/interesting things in life are those random meetings-up that happen without any conscious attempts to do so.
Am suffering slightly from the fact that everyone seems to be so dashed repellant. Widders is getting more and more unpleasant and I would quite happily see Quiggin and Erridge up against the wall when the revolution came.
Have to say did also wonder if Nick was going to confess a passion for one of his old school chums after the blithely dismissive reference to his date at the cinema. Although the nest of lesbians is quite hilarious, Powell makes them sound positively depraved.
All in all I'm still finding it a little annoying but rather enjoyable, perhaps a short break away from them has rekindled my fervour...
Who awards the Widmerpool prize?
Monday, 19 January 2009
My Kind of book
Just briefly to take umbrage with Will (always a pleasure) but especially his assessment of TKO, which I polished off yesterday on a train journey to the smoke and back. Not at all clumsily done, I thought - just really bloody enjoyable from beginning to end. The seven deadly sins (and Sir Magnus' allocation of them to his guests) was a masterstroke of comedy genius, and even the reappearance of Bob Duport (one of my least favourite characters up until now) was worthwhile - esp. his unwitting teasing of Jenkins re: Jean's affairs. Widmerpool, of course, steals the show with his officer-speak and proclamations of "my boy".
Perhaps Will was suffering from Powell-fatigue (exasperation) after 3 quickfire volumes in a row, whereas a steady pace, with breaks to read other books, is the way to do these. I'm certainly enjoying it this way - picking up the next volume is quickly becoming like meeting up with old friends.
I actually thought it couldn't get much better after CCR - guess what, it just did.
Perhaps Will was suffering from Powell-fatigue (exasperation) after 3 quickfire volumes in a row, whereas a steady pace, with breaks to read other books, is the way to do these. I'm certainly enjoying it this way - picking up the next volume is quickly becoming like meeting up with old friends.
I actually thought it couldn't get much better after CCR - guess what, it just did.
Friday, 16 January 2009
No Truce With The Furies
The blog's been quiet for sometime now, so I thought I'd update on my progress. I finished CCR just before New Year, and have got some good reading under my belt thus far in '09. No real highlights to report, but The Reader was provocative and well-constructed, the extremely odd Explorers of the New Century sated my appetite for adventure stories (very Rum Doodle-esque, but with a bizarre twist about 2/3 way through) and Clive James' Unreliable Memoirs was a total and unabashed joy (I have the next two volumes in and am eagerly anticipating them). Last weekend, in Reykjavik, I read the appropriate book from the Waking Up In... series, and whilst I feel much more informed about the Icelandic music scene now than I'd ever have wished to be, it was enjoyable and ticked the "appropriate holiday reading" box nicely.
I have now started The Kindly Ones, and am just one chapter in, but really very taken by it. I was at first unconvinced by Powell's need for a childhood sequence, but I now think the first 75 pages of this volume have been the best of the series so far. Yes, it's obviously apeing the Combray section of Swann's Way, with the main events taking place over the dinner table when the protagonist has been ushered away, but it's done so darn well and besides Jenkins is much less of an annoying wimp than Proust's narrator. Powell's serving staff are every bit the glorious comic creations that Francoise was, and it's great to see that Jenkins' parents' generation (Conyers and Trelawney in this case) were every bit as susceptible to those random-bumpings-into as their offspring. Is Powell self-parodying here? Most of all, the conceit of Uncle Giles being the harbinger of events in Sarajevo, and Conyers reaction, is a great success.
The rest of the book may get annoying, but for now I'm one very happy Powellanaut.
NB. Title for this entry is taken from RS Thomas' last poetry collection, which, in case you were wondering, is extremely worthwhile.
I have now started The Kindly Ones, and am just one chapter in, but really very taken by it. I was at first unconvinced by Powell's need for a childhood sequence, but I now think the first 75 pages of this volume have been the best of the series so far. Yes, it's obviously apeing the Combray section of Swann's Way, with the main events taking place over the dinner table when the protagonist has been ushered away, but it's done so darn well and besides Jenkins is much less of an annoying wimp than Proust's narrator. Powell's serving staff are every bit the glorious comic creations that Francoise was, and it's great to see that Jenkins' parents' generation (Conyers and Trelawney in this case) were every bit as susceptible to those random-bumpings-into as their offspring. Is Powell self-parodying here? Most of all, the conceit of Uncle Giles being the harbinger of events in Sarajevo, and Conyers reaction, is a great success.
The rest of the book may get annoying, but for now I'm one very happy Powellanaut.
NB. Title for this entry is taken from RS Thomas' last poetry collection, which, in case you were wondering, is extremely worthwhile.
Thursday, 1 January 2009
I like Chinese...
Excuse the gratuitous Python reference.
Bashed out Casanova's Chinese Restaurant over a couple of days this week and was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it. Surprised, because I felt sure at the time that some of those typical contrivances were just going to annoy me. The flashback sequence was irritating, and one gets the impression that Powell, four volumes in, suddenly realised that he was going to be one major character short for the rest of the series, so clumsily introduces Moreland out of thin air. Moreland, for whom Powell's friend Constant Lambert was prototype, completes the artistic triumvirate with Isbister and St John Clarke (echoes of Proust here... do I get bonus marks?), and is set (according to Spurling) to become a very significant friend of Jenkins. He is a fairly sympathetic character, but has suffered a little in comparison with Stringham, Templer and Widmerpool from his late introduction. Perhaps this will seem less significant over time though. I have, however, ceased to be annoyed by all those random happenings, and the oh so Powellian coincidental meeting of Jenkins, Moreland and Widmers in the nursing home was actually just amusing. The twist(s) at the end were also good fun, and we are also left with something of a cliffhanger concerning Widmerpool's mutterings about future plans and rumours that he is about to run for Parliament.
All in all, much darker than previous volumes - I think Will already said this, but it's hard to disagree - and with trouble brewing on the continent, then darker times would appear to lie ahead. Most of all though, this volume seemed to be superbly well structured - Powell is clearly getting into his stride just as we are.
On a final note, I have discovered that there is a spendid and annually awarded Widmerpool Award, given to the public figure adjudged to have behaved in the most Widmerpudlian fashion in the preceding 12 months. Winners, which have included Max Hastings and Lord Irvine, receive an engraved "wrong sort of overcoat". Hurrah!
Bashed out Casanova's Chinese Restaurant over a couple of days this week and was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it. Surprised, because I felt sure at the time that some of those typical contrivances were just going to annoy me. The flashback sequence was irritating, and one gets the impression that Powell, four volumes in, suddenly realised that he was going to be one major character short for the rest of the series, so clumsily introduces Moreland out of thin air. Moreland, for whom Powell's friend Constant Lambert was prototype, completes the artistic triumvirate with Isbister and St John Clarke (echoes of Proust here... do I get bonus marks?), and is set (according to Spurling) to become a very significant friend of Jenkins. He is a fairly sympathetic character, but has suffered a little in comparison with Stringham, Templer and Widmerpool from his late introduction. Perhaps this will seem less significant over time though. I have, however, ceased to be annoyed by all those random happenings, and the oh so Powellian coincidental meeting of Jenkins, Moreland and Widmers in the nursing home was actually just amusing. The twist(s) at the end were also good fun, and we are also left with something of a cliffhanger concerning Widmerpool's mutterings about future plans and rumours that he is about to run for Parliament.
All in all, much darker than previous volumes - I think Will already said this, but it's hard to disagree - and with trouble brewing on the continent, then darker times would appear to lie ahead. Most of all though, this volume seemed to be superbly well structured - Powell is clearly getting into his stride just as we are.
On a final note, I have discovered that there is a spendid and annually awarded Widmerpool Award, given to the public figure adjudged to have behaved in the most Widmerpudlian fashion in the preceding 12 months. Winners, which have included Max Hastings and Lord Irvine, receive an engraved "wrong sort of overcoat". Hurrah!
Wednesday, 17 December 2008
(No) surprises
In an act of further smugness, I can cheerfully report that The Kindly Ones has now also been knocked off - in fact this was last week, but I've been busy.
I'm less convinced by this volume, though it is clearly aiming for 'significance' and seriousness as it takes us into the war. Schematically I found it a bit annoying, with the long Proustian childhood sequence and the obvious attempted parallel between the outbreak of the first and second wars, down to recurring characters in each. In theory this is fine, I just thought it was a bit clumsily done. Elsewhere, it pretty much meanders around, with some goodish unrelated scenes - Widmers again doing good work - and it ends pretty well, in a very Powellian twist where random acquaintance suddenly resolve the issue whereas figures well known to the narrator had proved their uselessness. It's all a bit familiar and even the plot twists are not as exciting as one feels they ought to be.
Much more surprising is the news that Keanu Reeves went on record last week saying he had just finished Proust. Do you think he'd be up for Powell?
I'm less convinced by this volume, though it is clearly aiming for 'significance' and seriousness as it takes us into the war. Schematically I found it a bit annoying, with the long Proustian childhood sequence and the obvious attempted parallel between the outbreak of the first and second wars, down to recurring characters in each. In theory this is fine, I just thought it was a bit clumsily done. Elsewhere, it pretty much meanders around, with some goodish unrelated scenes - Widmers again doing good work - and it ends pretty well, in a very Powellian twist where random acquaintance suddenly resolve the issue whereas figures well known to the narrator had proved their uselessness. It's all a bit familiar and even the plot twists are not as exciting as one feels they ought to be.
Much more surprising is the news that Keanu Reeves went on record last week saying he had just finished Proust. Do you think he'd be up for Powell?
Time to start afresh...
I have been a bad, bad, boy regarding Mr Powell... Having started volume one, I never even finished it, let alone got as far as the dizzying heights of Mr Garrood. Anyway, as of tomorrow, I shall be at home in Co Durham almost permanently until the Autumn, in an attempt to find some peace and quiet in which to write up the D.Phil.
And so, I promise to start again, and to catch up... It's not as if I will have anything else to do!
And so, I promise to start again, and to catch up... It's not as if I will have anything else to do!
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Mollified
I've been prompted into updating on my recent progress. I knocked off Molly's almost two weeks ago but have sadly been reading nothing more exciting than a huge stack of UCAS forms since then (unless you count Titus Groan, the first of the Gormenghast books, which is, frankly, a bit of a drag). Well, I concur entirely with M. Garrood on this one - ALM was superb. Utterly delectable, and I hope the rest of the series continues as such. The character development of Jenkins is welcome, albeit offset by the appalingly sparse description of his new token female - honestly, if his fascination with Widmers, Quiggin, Erridge et al doesn't scream closet homo I don't know what does.
The undercurrent of political tension in Europe, and the suggestions of appeasement are curious - most certainly background music to the main dance at the moment, and one wonders how aware/bovvered the Upper Middle Classes really were of events cross channel. It's tempting, in an age of 24 hour news channels, for us to disregard the characters' relative indifference to Hitler as not being particularly credible - particularly when compared the constant barrage of outrage against Mugabe/China/Dubya/villain-of-the-week that El's employers espouse. For Powell's set there were clearly far more important matters to consider at the time, such as the three or four social events per day to drop in on and those coincidental bumpings-in-to at the Albert Memorial or in Chelsea apartments. In the next, bleaker, volume and thereon the seriousness of the situation seems desitined to bite them on the backsides. For now though - the dance is on!
P.S. Irittatingly, given we are now playing with the Experimental Law Variation of 3 volumes per 2 months, I am on an enforced sin-binning whilst volumes 5-9 lie gift-wrapped beneath a Christmas tree chez mes parentals. Chaps - please keep a seat for me at Casanova's Chinese Restaurant but go ahead and order, I'll be with you as soon as I am able.
The undercurrent of political tension in Europe, and the suggestions of appeasement are curious - most certainly background music to the main dance at the moment, and one wonders how aware/bovvered the Upper Middle Classes really were of events cross channel. It's tempting, in an age of 24 hour news channels, for us to disregard the characters' relative indifference to Hitler as not being particularly credible - particularly when compared the constant barrage of outrage against Mugabe/China/Dubya/villain-of-the-week that El's employers espouse. For Powell's set there were clearly far more important matters to consider at the time, such as the three or four social events per day to drop in on and those coincidental bumpings-in-to at the Albert Memorial or in Chelsea apartments. In the next, bleaker, volume and thereon the seriousness of the situation seems desitined to bite them on the backsides. For now though - the dance is on!
P.S. Irittatingly, given we are now playing with the Experimental Law Variation of 3 volumes per 2 months, I am on an enforced sin-binning whilst volumes 5-9 lie gift-wrapped beneath a Christmas tree chez mes parentals. Chaps - please keep a seat for me at Casanova's Chinese Restaurant but go ahead and order, I'll be with you as soon as I am able.
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
That's better
I'm glad we upped the pace. Casanova's Chinese restaurant was good, in many ways I think the best of the lot (I feel I have said this before), but wouldn't have worked so well if I hadn't read it in such close proximity to the previous book.
In fact, quite a few things become very obvious by reading in close tracking to one another. The structure of the books become a lot clearer, with the dominant characters of the books really assert themselves when you aren't desperately trying to remember who they are. Moreland, the key man in CCR, is easier than most because he appears from nowhere (I had to check in Spurling) and gets a flashback at the beginning before we reconnect with time from ALM (in the intervening period our narrator has got married - we get no description of this passage at all).
It's an altogether bleaker book than the previous ones, ending depressingly and with a nice little twist. I reread the end of ALM and the contrast between them is striking. Because it tracks back at the beginning (brief cameo reappearance of Deacon), we get a much greater sense of a narrative arc, rather than the often fragmented and episodic nature of previous books. This one isn't perfect, but there is a real sense of a story in itself.
It also yielded my favourite line of the saga so far, more for the barb than the writing (Quiggin on Erridge):
He appears to have treated POUM, FAI, CNT, and UGT, as if they were all the same left-wing extension of the Labour Party. ... If you can't tell the difference between a Trotskyite-Communist, an Anarcho-Syndicalist, and a properly paid-up party member, you had better keen away from the barricades.
In fact, quite a few things become very obvious by reading in close tracking to one another. The structure of the books become a lot clearer, with the dominant characters of the books really assert themselves when you aren't desperately trying to remember who they are. Moreland, the key man in CCR, is easier than most because he appears from nowhere (I had to check in Spurling) and gets a flashback at the beginning before we reconnect with time from ALM (in the intervening period our narrator has got married - we get no description of this passage at all).
It's an altogether bleaker book than the previous ones, ending depressingly and with a nice little twist. I reread the end of ALM and the contrast between them is striking. Because it tracks back at the beginning (brief cameo reappearance of Deacon), we get a much greater sense of a narrative arc, rather than the often fragmented and episodic nature of previous books. This one isn't perfect, but there is a real sense of a story in itself.
It also yielded my favourite line of the saga so far, more for the barb than the writing (Quiggin on Erridge):
He appears to have treated POUM, FAI, CNT, and UGT, as if they were all the same left-wing extension of the Labour Party. ... If you can't tell the difference between a Trotskyite-Communist, an Anarcho-Syndicalist, and a properly paid-up party member, you had better keen away from the barricades.
Monday, 8 December 2008
Pace duly upped
I glided through At Lady Molly's last week - all rather effortless I thought and I feel we're really getting going - about time! I'm very pleased with the decision to move to three volumes in two months, and have moved straight into Casanova's Chinese Restaurant.
I am hugely gratified to see our narrator actually doing something. Art books have been replaced by film scripts, which looks like proper hack-work, and suggest that our narrator might not be able to prance around thoughtless of money forever. I definitely noted a few choice quotes that I promptly forgot to write down.
There is some real grit in this volume as well, and I think it captures the strange unreality of serious politics in the 1930s, Spain and a European war both get major mentions, though as signs of points of view, not with any urgency attached. The symbolism of the retired general who has read Freud & Jung - and I'm straying into pretension - is here potent, and funny.
In many ways, Widmers and Erridge dominate the book, as poles of aristocratic leftism and middle-class 'getting on'. However, while Widmerpool is clearly ever more memorable and blackly comic in this book, I wonder if he is overplayed here. The situation are becoming a little absurd and straining reality. I'm part of the way into Casanova and he seems to have receded - so much for the better I feel.
Still no female characters of substance.
I am hugely gratified to see our narrator actually doing something. Art books have been replaced by film scripts, which looks like proper hack-work, and suggest that our narrator might not be able to prance around thoughtless of money forever. I definitely noted a few choice quotes that I promptly forgot to write down.
There is some real grit in this volume as well, and I think it captures the strange unreality of serious politics in the 1930s, Spain and a European war both get major mentions, though as signs of points of view, not with any urgency attached. The symbolism of the retired general who has read Freud & Jung - and I'm straying into pretension - is here potent, and funny.
In many ways, Widmers and Erridge dominate the book, as poles of aristocratic leftism and middle-class 'getting on'. However, while Widmerpool is clearly ever more memorable and blackly comic in this book, I wonder if he is overplayed here. The situation are becoming a little absurd and straining reality. I'm part of the way into Casanova and he seems to have receded - so much for the better I feel.
Still no female characters of substance.
Thursday, 27 November 2008
Upping the pace
Is anyone else thinking that we could profitably up the pace on these novels. I am finding one a month a little slow - and I keep forgetting who people are. As we have done a full season, surely now is the time to start knocking them off quicker.
I would have thought two a month would be fine. That would leave us in good shape in finish in April as we did with Proust (well, not all of us, but close). Always best to clear the summer for other stuff.
Alternatively, we could do a season in two months, which would mean June.
I would have thought two a month would be fine. That would leave us in good shape in finish in April as we did with Proust (well, not all of us, but close). Always best to clear the summer for other stuff.
Alternatively, we could do a season in two months, which would mean June.
Thursday, 20 November 2008
Well, firstly huge apologies for my lack of posting: down to indolence rather than anything else I'm afraid.
As for The Acceptance World I enjoyed it much more than book two and less so than book one. It's a relief that Things Seem To Be Happening now. A bit of plot never did anyone any harm after al. But I'm consistently dismayed as to how much of it all seems driven by conincidence and bumping into people rather than any sort of agency from any of the characters. That statue at the Albert memorial must have been a rather busier pedestrian interchange than it is nowadays.
I'd agree with Will that Widmerpool is turning out to be the most interesting character, though on reflection I think there's not much ambiguity in how Powell feels about him. He's a grasping, slightly stupid, thick-voiced man who still lives with his mother and has no understanding of social context whilst imagining himself to be the most socially adept person in any given circumstance. I think it's interesting that I only half want him to come a cropper, perhaps it's a side effect of the narrator's own inability to condemn Widmerpool.
I'm also waiting for a solidly believable female character to appear rather than the current roster of volatile femmes fatale/whores (Yes, there's an obvious joke to be made here but I'm not going to).
Perhaps it's a limitation of the narrator's world view, though I'm thinking it's more likely to be a deficiency in Powell's writing. Proust managed to create believable women who had a vividly depicted internal life, even if the narrator's frequently bizarre interpretation of that life was often foisted on the reader. At least they stuck in the mind, which is not something I could say about any of Powell's women.
Overall I have to say I'm finding this to be something of a Peter F Hamilton of novel sequences: lots of words but light on characters. And actually it's doing PFH a bit of a disservice, at least his plots are driven on by more than random chance.
Hmm. Time to order Summer from Amazon I think.
As for The Acceptance World I enjoyed it much more than book two and less so than book one. It's a relief that Things Seem To Be Happening now. A bit of plot never did anyone any harm after al. But I'm consistently dismayed as to how much of it all seems driven by conincidence and bumping into people rather than any sort of agency from any of the characters. That statue at the Albert memorial must have been a rather busier pedestrian interchange than it is nowadays.
I'd agree with Will that Widmerpool is turning out to be the most interesting character, though on reflection I think there's not much ambiguity in how Powell feels about him. He's a grasping, slightly stupid, thick-voiced man who still lives with his mother and has no understanding of social context whilst imagining himself to be the most socially adept person in any given circumstance. I think it's interesting that I only half want him to come a cropper, perhaps it's a side effect of the narrator's own inability to condemn Widmerpool.
I'm also waiting for a solidly believable female character to appear rather than the current roster of volatile femmes fatale/whores (Yes, there's an obvious joke to be made here but I'm not going to).
Perhaps it's a limitation of the narrator's world view, though I'm thinking it's more likely to be a deficiency in Powell's writing. Proust managed to create believable women who had a vividly depicted internal life, even if the narrator's frequently bizarre interpretation of that life was often foisted on the reader. At least they stuck in the mind, which is not something I could say about any of Powell's women.
Overall I have to say I'm finding this to be something of a Peter F Hamilton of novel sequences: lots of words but light on characters. And actually it's doing PFH a bit of a disservice, at least his plots are driven on by more than random chance.
Hmm. Time to order Summer from Amazon I think.
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