NIGEL BEALE NOTA BENE BOOKS

Musings on the Book, Literature, Poetry, Literary Criticism, Collecting, Media, Life and the Arts, and Audio Interviews from The Biblio File radio program pertaining to same by a writer, broadcaster, bibliophile.
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Archive for June, 2009

June 16th, 2009 • Posted in Literary Criticism

Another List: Award Winningest Books Since 1995

Yes, but are they any good? Here are the first twenty of roughly fifty:
Max MacGee at The Millions Blog looked at these six awards from 1995 to the present, awarding three points for winning an award and two points for an appearance on a shortlist or as a finalist. Here’s the key that goes with the list: B=Booker Prize, C=National Book Critics Circle Award, I=International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award, N=National Book Award, P=Pulitzer Prize, W=Costa Book Award [formerly the Whitbread] bold=winner, red=New to the list or moved up* the list since last year’s "Prizewinners" post
June 16th, 2009 • Posted in Literary Criticism

Stupid Books Reviewed

Time to laud a refreshing gust of truth telling:  this gimlet eyed gem via bookninja from Esquire magazines’ Benjamin Alsup here summarized:

 "…the problem with avoiding stupid books is that you end up avoiding the books that people actually read. This makes you feel out of touch. Like one of those elitist wimps whom fat guys on the radio are always making fun of.

So I read some of them: Relentless, by Dean Koontz (Bantam); Long Lost, by Harlan Coben (Dutton); and First Family, by David Baldacci (Grand Central). And it hurt. Since I’m never going to do it again, and since I don’t recommend that anybody else try this shit at home, here’s what I learned from reading these stupid books.

1. The world is batshit insane.

2. The world is not only batshit insane; it’s after you.

3. Women are… "smart," "witty," and "graceful."

4. Stupid books take almost as long to read as not-so-stupid books.

This is the point where I’m supposed to find something positive to say about these books. That’s how it works. You’re supposed to get all counterintuitive and say that Sarah Palin is so freakishly stupid, she’s actually some kind of genius. Here’s what I can say: The Coben is not quite as bad as the Baldacci, which is not as god-awful as the Koontz.

It seems it’s widely considered bad form to call stupid things stupid. But that’s mostly what these books are. They’ll cost you $25 a pop, waste a half day of your life, and leave you neither smarter nor happier, just kind of bored and a little depressed. That’s no way to spend a summer. Screw these books. Take a walk."

June 16th, 2009 • Posted in AUDIO Extraordinary Canadians

Audio Interview with Margaret MacMillan: on How to Write History

Margaret MacMillan was educated at the University of Toronto and at Oxford, where she obtained a B. Phil. in politics and a D. Phil. for a thesis on the British in India between 1880 and 1920. Her books include Women of the Raj, Paris 1919: Six Months That Changed the World, which won the 2003 Governor General’s Award, the Samuel Johnson Prize, the PEN Hessell Tiltman Prize, the Duff Cooper Prize and was a New York Times Editors’ Choice for 2002, Nixon in China, The Uses and Abuses of History, and most recently Penguin’s Extraordinary Canadians:  Stephen Leacock.  Currently, MacMillan is the Warden of St. Anthony’s College, Oxford University.

We met recently in Montreal at the Blue Met Writers Festival. I posed a simple question: Referencing the two most recent books you have authored: How do you write history? Please listen here to a comprehensive,  enthusiastic answer that addresses research, records, racism, other potential worlds, being of your time, Iraq, lessons, dangers, inevitable biases, humour and Stephen Leacock’s legacy.
 

Copyright © 2009 by Nigel Beale

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June 16th, 2009 • Posted in Authors and Books

‘Yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.’

ah yes I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all who ah that they don’t know neither do I so there you are they might as well try to stop the sun from rising tomorrow the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a woman’s body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldn’t answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didn’t know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father and old captain Groves and the sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the Jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharans and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down Jo me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjH8ns1N9uw

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June 16th, 2009 • Posted in On Poetry

Rites and The Moon dangling wet like a Half-Pucked Eye

Books of poetry are much like CDs. I’ll love two or three of the twenty-odd songs. Really like a handful more, and enjoy listening to the rest, looking forward to returning to my favourites. If a poetry collection contains one or two poems I love, I count it as a success. Leonard Cohen’s Let us compare Mythologies does. Here’s one:
 
Rites

Bearing gifts of flowers and sweet nuts
the family came to watch the eldest son,
my father; and stood about his bed
while he lay on a blood-sopped pillow,
his heart half rotted
and his throat dry with regret.
And it seemed so obvious, the smell so present,
quite so necessary,
but my uncles prophesied wildly,
promising life like frantic oracles;
and they only stopped in the morning,
after he had died
and I had begun to shout.


I love the use of ‘sweet nuts’ in the first line. ‘Rededication’ is a very good poem as well. So is ‘The Sparrows,’ ‘Letter’ and ‘Ballad.’ Some contain the most exquisitely violent, striking openings:

How you murdered your family
means nothing to me
as your mouth moves across my body


My lady was found mutilated
in a Mountain Street boarding house.


The moon dangling wet like a half-plucked eye

 
June 15th, 2009 • Posted in Literary Criticism

Description and Evaluation both essential to the Critical Function

In the introduction to his new and laudable Critical Distance , an online journal featuring critical essays about American fiction since 1980, Dan Green cites my review of Noel Carroll’s On Criticism, suggesting that I ’confuse "criticism" in the broadest sense with reviewing in the narrowest sense.’

"Works of literature need ongoing critical reading and competing interpretations," he says, "not perpetual reviewing and judgment. The latter, in my view, is in part an attempt to elevate the critic making the judgment over the work itself." 

Contrary to his assertion, in the Carroll review and elsewhere on this site, I suggest, more accurately, that interpretation, analysis, comparison and evaluation are all intricately interwoven in the critic’s practice. Dan’s review of Russell Bank’s Affliction inadvertently makes my point. Despite claiming that his initial contribution to Critical Distance ‘is a critical essay that illustrates the difference between description and evaluation,’ see how he compares and ranks works in the essay:

" Banks’s variations on the naturalist plot and naturalist narrative method in my view make Affliction a more artful novel than most of those written by the proto-naturalists, but must its art be an obstacle to a full engagement with the characters that art helps bring to life? One of the consequences of Rolfe’s self-regulating narration is that by the time Rolfe himself steps out as an active character to attend his mother’s funeral, he has already impressed himself on us as a character whose struggle to understand the forces shaping his brother’s life is also the attempt to understand the forces shaping his own. Among the strongest of these forces is the formative influence exerted by Glenn Whitehouse, a character most readers must experience as unpleasant in the extreme but who is nevertheless portrayed with a bestial immediacy that eliminates all distance between readers and characters, making the artifice of character-creation seem a trivial consideration. Yet it is of course the “meticulous” way in which Banks has employed such artifice that builds these characters into the memorable figures they are, just as his equal skill in the elaboration of plot and evocation of setting works to create the very sense of realism in Affliction that critics such as Fred Pfeil value in it most highly."

If Affliction calls more attention to its own artful construction than Sister Carrie or McTeague, it is also finally more convincing as a representation of both character and setting, as well as more credible as a narrative depicting true-to-life events than either of these novels. However compelling they are in their unrelenting adherence to their own narrative logic, neither of them can really described as telling stories that are altogether plausible as realistic reflections of ordinary life.

And how he elevates Affliction into the canon:

Social “relevance” in fiction arises as a resonant effect of narratives that are compelling in their storytelling, the execution of which is the writer’s first obligation. “Relevance” is a quality a work of fiction possesses in addition to it primary achievement as a credible aesthetic creation, at least if the author of the work hopes it will survive its motivating but transient “subject.”

"Affliction will survive into the next generation of readers because Russell Banks is able to make the novel relevant in this way. In the long run it will be valued, I believe, for its perfectly-paced storytelling and skillful deployment of point of view, for its formal appropriation of the naturalist narrative such that what was a loosely connected set of realist narratives embodying, in various degrees of novelistic skill, a determinist worldview becomes freshly shaped into a preeminently skillful narrative that could be described as distilling the common tendencies of literary naturalism into a kind of quintessential form. It will be valued for the “relevance” of its story about the vulnerabilities of rural communities and abiding effects of male rage, to be sure."

 
June 15th, 2009 • Posted in On Poetry

Top Ten Poetry Books of All Time; and the 20th Century


1. Lyrical Ballads by Anon (1798) (Wordsworth and Coleridge)
2. Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St Agnes and Other Poems by John Keats (1820)
3. Poems, Chiefly Lyrical by Alfred (not yet Lord) Tennyson (1830)
4. Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman (1855)
5. North of Boston by Robert Frost (1914)
6. Poems by Edward Thomas (1917)
7. Poems by W.H. Auden (1930)
8. The Less Deceived by Philip Larkin (1955)
9. North by Seamus Heaney (1975)
10. Complete Poems by Elizabeth Bishop (1983)

Only missed the two greatest collections of all time: Shakespeare’s Sonnets and the Psalms…


1. Collected Poems by TS Eliot (Faber)
Because this book contains The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock as well as the grand major sweep of The Waste Land and The Four Quartets.
2. Poems from the Book of Hours by RM Rilke, translated from the German by Babette Deutsch (Vision Press)
Because their excitements teach me how to silence the clamour made by my own senses.
3. Poems by George Seferis, translated from the Greek by Rex Warner (The Bodley Head)
Because Seferis’s work makes my hair stand on end.
4. Collected Poems by Edward Thomas (Faber)
Because I love his country verse and because he is the best poet of the first world war.
5. Collected Poems by WH Auden (Faber)
Because I took this book to Roy Plomley’s desert island and found the poems not merely brilliant but also durable.
6. Collected Poems by Dylan Thomas (Dent)
Because the music of his words resonates in my mind and will as long as forever is.
7. Collected Poems by Bernard Spencer (Oxford University Press)
Because he was a fine pleasure-giving poet too much neglected.
8. Life Studies by Robert Lowell (Faber)
Because the poem’s confessional nakedness is compelling.
9. Collected Poems by Philip Larkin (Faber)
Because his poems with their sharp-eyed images portray the feelings of the man next door.
10. View with a Grain of Sand by Wislawa Szymborska, translated from the Polish by Baranczak and Cavanagh (Faber)
Because Szymborska is the best woman poet of our time and offers us accessible, ironically humorous poems underpinned by her life experience of her country’s marked vicissitudes in the 20th century.

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June 15th, 2009 • Posted in Literary Criticism

1765 Definitive Book Lists, 213 Book Award Lists…

…you like lists? Here, I’ll show you lists:

 Book Award lists

Definitive lists
Happy now? So, no more lists.
 
June 15th, 2009 • Posted in Literary Criticism

The Ten Best Short Stories

According at least to The Oxford American’s Kevin Brockmeier. He gives us an alphabetical listing of his 50 favourite stories with an admitted contemporary English-language, science fiction, magic realists, fantasist bias. Here from it are his top ten:

"The Voices of Time" by J.G. Ballard (*)

"The Accordion Player" by John Berger (*)

"The State of Grace" by Harold Brodkey (*)

"The Light-Years" by Italo Calvino (*)

"The Prophet from Jupiter" by Tony Earley (*)

"Professor Berkowitz Stands on the Threshold" by Theodora Goss (*)

"The Thistles in Sweden" by William Maxwell (*)

"Faith and Mountains" by Augusto Monterroso (*)

"The Death of Ivan Ilych" by Leo Tolstoy (*)

"Escapes" by Joy Williams

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June 15th, 2009 • Posted in Literary Criticism

Whatever value there is in studying literature comes from the total body of our reading

Don’t get me wrong. I love lists, but I love even more the rationale behind the making of them…the cited reasons why one poem or poet makes the cut, while others don’t.  In order to fashion a more than purely ‘subjective’ list the first necessity is to have read a great deal: all those works which have by others been deemed canonical; all those which haven’t. This is of course impossible. However, as time goes by, and pages are turned, we get closer and closer to the accomplishment of this goal. A better appreciation of what does or does not possess ‘value.’

All of which to say, as Northrop Frye does in The Educated Imagination: "Whatever value there is in studying literature, cultural or practical, comes from the total body of our reading, the castle of words we’ve built, and keep adding new wings to all the time."