Out (Natsuo Kirino)

I have to admit that the prose of this novel is just bad. Whether it's as bad to begin with in the original Japanese, or it's more the fault of the translator, I'm not sure. In any case, I thought it was an interesting story, although often not very believable. What was most interesting to me was its social critique of contemporary Tokyo culture, from a feminist and a class point of view, as well as its indulgence in violent and sadistic imagery.

A Confederacy of Dunces (John Kennedy Toole)

This book was very entertaining, although sometimes too preposterous for its comedy. The best thing about it is that its "hero" is a very unlikely one who somehow manages to be unlikeable at the same time as he appeals to (I imagine) a large percentage of contemporary generations. For me the appeal was in his completely inability to cope with living in the modern world, coupled with his talent for dreaming and attempting many ridiculous and impossible deeds. At first glance he is a laughable, immature and mean person, but by the end it is clear that he is person who has some serious problems, and his ultimate desire to break free of them is actually kind of moving. I don't know why someone hasn't made a movie of this book.

The Wild Boys (William S. Burroughs)

Might I dare to admit that the sex in this book borders on being gratuitous and even pornographic? But I guess that's one of the main arguments that Burroughs enemies have always clung to. Somehow I used to feel that the sex in his books was all very cold and clinical, even surreal sometimes, and in this book it felt a little bit too indulgent. Anyway, that's hardly a worthwhile criticism. I thought sections of this book were startlingly well written. I feel like some of the chapters are written like pieces of music and sometimes read like sonatas, in that they have a tendency to wrap around themselves. The cut up method, which I'm sure was used in this book, engages in a somewhat more abstract sensibility, and allows words and images to be treated as musical themes. Echoes of earlier phrases (only appearing later in scrambled or simply rearranged forms) usually lend a passage a poetically definitive quality. That is, the words become more important and begin to mean more. Really I think that this book, rather than a novel, is more of a multi-movement chamber symphony.

The Hairy Ape (Eugene O'Neill)

An odd play. Wasn't sure what to make of it. At first I thought it was very vibrant and poetic, but then it seemed very simplistic and too purposeful or something.

Querelle (Jean Genet)

I actually read this book about 2-3 months ago and have been uninspired to write about it. I had seen the Fassbinder movie and thought it was intriguing but also kind of stupidly cryptic and eccentricly verbose, which I found difficult. The experience of reading the book left me feeling somewhat similarly, except that I now feel it is essentially not as cryptic as I thought it was. In fact, the theme of the book is something that now seems almost like a cliche in gay literature: I guess I would have to boil it down to the following: how sexual desire and "love" between men is invariably linked with competition, disdain, and ultimately, violence (in this case, homicide). But wait...that's maybe not the whole thing. there is also something about how homosexual desire is related to narcissism and possibly misogyny. Anyway, it's something that may have completely fascinated me before I read George Chauncey's "Gay New York," from which I learned all about the Pre-War history of the gay male in society- all about sailors and such. Still, I think these are valid themes to write about, and there certainly is some truth to them. And the prose is often very engaging and amusing in a sort of French way. The characters usually manage to be appealing at the same time as they are uninteresting stock characters. I kinda liked it.

The Woman in the Dunes (Kobo Abe)

Having begun to brush the surface of modern Japanese literature, it's very interesting to notice certain common themes and even images that represent particularly Japanese ways of looking at things (and some rather confounding obsessions). Most prominent of these themes so far is the loss of the self, or the loss (or redefinition) of a conception of existence that once was taken for granted. As in The Wind up Bird Chronicle, the main character of this book is thrown into a situation against his will and finds himself the pawn of some odd fate that cannot be explained satisfactorily. In both books, the metaphor of being trapped in a hole is used to represent this theme. Now as for the writing...this is probably the most quirky and simply strange prose I have found so far in Japanese literature...and I'm not entirely sure what factor ought to be held responsible: is it that the Japanese think about things in an essentially different way, to the point that Western readers are simply confused by passages that make perfect sense to Japanese readers? Is it that the translation is a bit too literal (or something)? Or is it that the main character's mind becomes clouded and unable to think coherent thoughts? In any case, the writing often intrigued me and also made me scratch my head.

Cosmicomics (Italo Calvino)

This book was kind of charming. My favorite story was the first, in which the narrator tells of the time in the history of the Earth when the moon was close enough for Earth-dwellers to access with a ladder. This book really demonstrates the aspect of Calvino's writing for which he is known, which is that particularly quaint and whimsical imagination. Sort of like a juvenile "Brief History of Time" for adults...however, some of the stories made me think to myself "ok, here he goes, and I know what this is, and it's kind of tiresome." I guess that's the danger of writing like this: although it's very amusing, it has the capacity to annoy.

The Turn of the Screw (Henry James)

I was amazed to find what difficult reading this story was, especially since I remember having been assigned to read it (though not having read it) in high school. What I appreciated about it was that its subject is one that could be portrayed in a very obvious manner, but instead it is made exquisitely vague and subtle, so that until the end, the facts of the story are unclear, and at best, inexplicitly suggested. The horror felt by the main character is nameless, and transcends anything that might by typical in a "ghost story." I will now take a close look at the Benjamin Britten opera and compare.

The Temple of the Golden Pavilion (Yukio Mishima)

The first thing that intrigued me about this book was that the main character was one in which I saw myself more than any other literary character. Also intriguing was that it was based on a true story, and was supposed to be a sort of psychological exploration of the mind of a disturbed arsonist. The book kind of reminded me of Rebecca and Death in Venice, as it combined a story about a descent into chaos with the element of an obsession with a mysterious and beautiful building. However, unlike either of those two, the telling of the story was dramatically kind of flat, and the most engaging aspect of it was the philosophical preoccupation with beauty and isolation that was sometimes explored to the point of confusion. Overall though, it was a rather interesting book.

Lolita (Vladimir Nabokov)

I had wanted to read this book for some time, then second guessed myself when I found it in the Salvation Army for $2. But after reading the first paragraph I immediately put off any previously formulated reading plans I may have had, and decided to settle in for a Nabokov novel (only my second so far). I absolutely loved it at first. It was just the right combination of vulgarity, candor, and smartassed criticism of human stupidity. The lofty language and the constant esoteric references (including phrases of French with no translation) often frustrated me and sometimes seemed kind of stupidly elitist. On the other hand, Nabokov's writing is amazing, to the point that he must be forgiven for being an unabashed snob. The second half of the book was kind of disappointing, although I'm not sure why. Maybe I feel that the premise of the book (a very intriguing premise) is one that is not effectively sustainable for the length that it continues to develop. Somehow I think I lost part of my investment in the book, meaning the story and the language. I was sick of looking words up in the dictionary? I don't know, maybe it's my fault. I feel that I'm not doing this book justice, so I'll say that I fully understand why this is considered one of the great, enduring works of literature.

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle (Haruki Murakami)

I liked this, kind of a lot. That is, I was expecting to love it, so my experience of discovery while reading this book was compromised. Although Murakami is widely read and liked in the Western world, I feel that his writing is thoroughly Japanese...within this bizarrely amusing (and quite accessable) story set in a quaint modern Tokyo, are fragments of a more profound level of Japanese culture...symbols and ideas that have come up in my explorations of Zen and Butoh. Many interesting things are tied together. Ultimately, it's a book that provokes a good deal of spiritual thought, and often through very viscerally disturbing passages. I cringed more than a few times, and I don't cringe often while reading. In the end, I think it's worth the effort.

Queer (William S. Burroughs)

This early Burroughs is so incredibly different from his later work. It seems as if the death of his wife was the event that totally shattered his existence and plunged him into the black hole of a world that ended up spitting out Naked Lunch and everything he wrote afterwards. His style in this book gives the impression of being not quite Burroughs, although here and there are definite glimpses of the later style. The narrative is very straight forward, and really feels more like an autobiography than a novel. A very easy read, with an interesting introduction by the author that puts the whole thing into perspective. It's really about the emotional vulnerability experienced by the ex-junky in the absence of junk, and so (I imagine) it's very appropriate as a sequel to his first novel, Junky.