Absolutely absolutely indispensable guide to Anti-Oedipus. I tried tackling the text on my own and was hopelessly lost in its sauce - this overview (which posited its own arguments in places, to my appreciation) was a Godsend. I took like 50 pages of notes on this LOL I'm very excited to return to AO.
This also gave me a great overview of Marx, Nietzsche, Kant, Hegel, Lacan, and Freud as well. Thanks Eugene!
A big and baffling and excellent novel that is sly in its strangeness. Temporal collapse and fabricated scholarship evoke Ishmael Reed and Borges and Bolano but the generally straightforward prose and well-trod historical setting obscure these oddities - mirroring how often historical records are banally built on false and misunderstood and seemingly unremarkable premises. I'm not sure how much I believe Jones' claim that he didn't do much research for this book but he's built up an excellent mythology around himself as well as the novel that I think is sorely missing in most artistic personalities today. Let the art speak for itself!
I truly enjoyed (and struggled with) the vast network of characters and their constant negotiation and renegotiation with each other and their physical environment. The center fell out quickly leaving just the ties between people, which is an excellent collectivist turn that I still don't see often in ostensibly "postmodern" fiction. This makes for a more arduous read but also better depicts the odd courses and channels we dig for ourselves.
A deeply inscrutable novel that demands multiple readings - too smart for me at this point in my reading journey but I look forward to my returns to it. A chronicle of the "night wood" of the modern psyche in an increasingly meaningless world: attempts to grasp at diagnosis or identity or class don't yield anything but screaming at a dog in a ruined church in the night. Like most modernist literature, Nightwood plays at the border between reactionary lamentation of bygone aristocracy and cold description of the emptying of all meaning following WWI. Hard to tell where Barnes ends up but the celebration of queer night scenes, messy lesbianism, decadent trans women is a warm light in the novel and the era.
Hard to read and follow but the final chapter is absolutely masterful.
Spooky!!! And surprisingly rich for its fairly pulpy exterior. A horrifying picture of the ways social conventions of upper class heterosexuality trap, rape, breed, deny, and ultimately discard women in pursuit of something evil.
It was okay! Read like a higher-brow YA novel with half-decent meditations on the nature of personhood and the limits of modern science/medicine. I found the pacing and the prose to be underwhelming on all fronts and the final-pages dump of exposition completely undid any mystery. An unsatisfying novel - though perhaps the point? Will not be lingering in my thoughts long either way.
A minor, transitory, and often underwhelming entry in Delillo's oeuvre. Glittering in moments when prose flits through crowds or the smogged memory of temples. Capitalism rips the bottom out of labor; language can't catch up to the many wheels of capital and we're left some transcendent all-too-human discourse in worship or words or war.
The novel gasps to cohere but can't reach the escape velocity of the gravity it depicts. The gaps between the cults and meditations and geopolitics and half-forgotten little boys are too narrow - the novel collapses on itself.
A lot of fun to read in the moment! Haven't read a book this quickly in a while which testifies to the ease and rapidity of its prose and story structure (not inherently a good thing though).
A few thoughts for such a expressly political novel:
Lemoine was simultaneously too interesting and too bland for a billionaire. Insanely wealthy people are, from what I've gathered, not straightforward James Bond villains but weirdo losers surrounded by way too many yes-men. I think this novel made the billionaire out to be a badass when, in reality, he would just be a libertarian doofus with like a collection of anime girl figures or something.
I think the novel smartly approached the tension between white settler "radicals," their efforts to shape and cultivate land, their drive for individual success, and the inherent problems with all of these things. I'm thinking through whether if the massive lack of Maori perspectives was an intentional exclusion to highlight the narrow-mindedness of the group or an illustration of the author's own blind spots. Much to consider! I definitely need to look into more Maori literature in general.
I think this would be better served as like an HBO series? I didn't get a major sense of this being expressly literary and many of the characters internal monologues were rather surface-level. The plotting and pacing and cliffhangers would be perfect for an episodic structure. The TV-ification of middlebrow literary fiction?
In the vein of Hartman-esque critical fabulation, I think this novel did a decent job at illustrating the details of lives very rarely recorded. There's a humanity and kindness and dignity displayed towards these Indigenous women that is rare to see in any kind of media. I appreciated the citations at the end and the glossary of terms - a powerful testament to language following a story about the restriction and destruction of language.
I thought the stylistic aspects could've been stronger at points. The prose was often rather dry and the storytelling a bit jerky. Excited to discuss this in my Quaker book club!
A novel that definitely had its good moments! Some of the prose was excellent; there were sections of skilled storytelling; the polyphonic and hypertextual structure is always a fun time. We love an exploration of place.
Many problems, unfortunately:
The entire framing was dreadfully narrow - a pity for a novel with such expansive aims. How can you possibly explore the history of human relationships to history and land while starting that history with white Puritans and only proceeding with white people from there? Why do plants and wampus cats and beetles get more humanity than Indigenous people or Black people? Where's the chapter about the enslaved woman seeking refuge in the house?
The hypertextual structure didn't always land how it should've, largely a result of undercommitment to the bit. All of the different texts were typeset identically and largely in the same stylistic voice. All of them were neatly separated from one another, even with some gente referencing. The pictures and diagrams were completely contextless; no captions, titles, provenance, anything. (This might be an unfair jab) you can tell a natural scientist wrote this and not a historian or other kind of humanist - there's a disinterest in texts as objects that's disappointing.
I would recommend something like Lote, Savage Theories, or The Rabbit Hutch for novels doing what Mason is trying here a bit more successfully.