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rhys_thomas_sparey's reviews
20 reviews
4.0
5.0
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
4.0
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
It is the genesis of his sardonic, edgy humour, as his jokes try but fail to land. For example, he quips that gay men "give me the horrors", Irish faces bear a "peasant intuition, stupidity, shrewdness, and malice", and people with epilepsy are "subnormal". These insults read as regressive and mean, rather than some postmodern reclaiming of prejudice or the damming reflection of an aging capitalist society that Burroughs later becomes capable of.
But perhaps that is the point. Burroughs' character is presented as hopeless, lost and weak, as he navigates prisons, asylums, and slums in the pursuit of crime and addiction. He steals from subway commuters to make a dime and injects junk into his genitals just to feel a rush. Yet, his writing remains palpably sober. The world is not as hallucinatory as in later novels, which frames him as a tragic figure rather than a bemused proto-punk. It is in this book that Burroughs' cool highbrow persona is rooted in the material preconditions of drug use and queerness.
His appropriation of contemporaneous jazz vernacular feels forced ("hip", "cat", etc.). There is a sense that he is not writing in his own voice. Perhaps, that is appropriate for the sober, external view he offers of himself, but it is not compelling, and makes for jagged and dry prose. Nevertheless, it is interesting to see Burroughs settle into a way of writing that aptly expresses his dissatisfaction with American modernity and the personal tragedies inflicted upon him that forcibly alienate him from it.
Indeed, both Junky and Queer are likely necessary pillars for supporting the significantly more technically experimental and politically efficacious literature in which Burroughs eventually thrives.
Graphic: Ableism, Addiction, Alcohol, Alcoholism, Animal cruelty, Antisemitism, Blood, Body horror, Confinement, Drug use, Eating disorder, Gun violence, Injury/Injury detail, Medical content, Murder, Racial slurs, Religious bigotry, Sexism, Suicide, Body shaming, Emotional abuse, Excrement, Fatphobia, Forced institutionalization, Medical trauma, Suicidal thoughts, Chronic illness, Dysphoria, Mental illness, Misogyny, Panic attacks/disorders, Police brutality, Death, Drug abuse, Hate crime, Homophobia, Physical abuse, Self harm, Terminal illness, Racism, Schizophrenia/Psychosis , and Suicide attempt
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
There is a kafka-esque quality to the tragic life of the protagonist, the banality of his life being absurdly inescapable. How can one then will happiness into it? When the oppurtunity presents itself, it is morally questionable and the solution is ironically underwhelming.
Herein lies the great genius of Camus, summarised in little over a hundred easily digestable pages: on the surface, he can appear counter-revolutionary, but it is not that one necessarily should exploit others or that social justice is futile. It is just that the former is intrinsic to a capitalist economy and the latter is opposed to it.
Much like Frantz Fanon in The Wretched of the Earth, Camus is interested in how this absurdity is felt and rationalised at a personal, visceral level. The protagonist never truly wills happiness; the closest he gets is a vague grasp of the concept earned through a diseased and isolated death.
So, A Happy Death rewrites Fyodr Dostoyevsky's Notes from the Underground? It is a satire of utilitarianism? Not in the sense that the protagonist's happiness comes neither from willing it or ignoring it; happiness ebbs and flows like the tide and is determined in large part by broad structures of socio-economic inequality. It is absurd, and Camus describes it beautifully. This is what makes it anti-eulogistic of optimism.
But Camus never submitted it himself for publication and recycles the same characters and themes for L'Etranger, which elaborates the same subject matter more eloquently, more effectively, and in greater depth. Nevertheless, A Happy Death, I feel, packs more of a punch, with more charm and more of an edge, Camus' philosophy encoded as much into how he writes as what he writes.
4.0
Toksvig's knack for pairing informative concision with dry humour in precise and accessible prose made my 2021 that little bit more enlightening and enjoyable. It is also worth praising the sheer scope, historical and geographical, of the figures who are included in this volume. Both Ancient Babylonian priestesses and Mughal Indian queens get discussed. It does what it says on the proverbial tin, but there is something to be said of the layout of an almanac which can make it seem like a bit of a slog. The simple remedy for that is to feel permitted to deviate from the time span with which it is intended to be read, though I cannot help wondering if there is some other format through which this rich history could have been illustrated. Nevertheless, fans of all backgrounds who are interested in structured light reading, interesting stories, or carefully curated banter will find something worthwhile in Sandi Toksvig's Almanac.