Hari Kunzru’s White Tears starts out as a conventional realist novel. Uber rich Carter and scholarship kid Seth meet up in college and bond over a love of music and sound. Together they make music, buy records and come of age. Seth, our narrator, loves Carter both for the person he is and for the world he invites him in to: one where making and accessing music is possible because budget doesn’t (seem) to matter. At this point the reader thinks the book is about male friendship, income inequality and coming of age as Gen Z. A lot of spoilers follow. Continue reading
Tag Archives: music
Bel Canto: I may be tone deaf, but I know good writing.
The only thing I remember from first year English is a lecture that argued that all creative writing (whether poetry or prose) is about the urge by authors to create something which will outlast them. That every poem or story is, in the end, a valiant gesture toward immortality. And that readers should read with an eye to the way the author intentionally and accidentally imbues their work with this impulse; that is, that the discerning reader will always be able to find evidence of the author’s vanity, of their arrogance in thinking their work will endure. At the time I found the argument moving and persuasive. Since then I think back on it more as an example of excellent teaching, it was a well paced lecture with convincing examples and analysis. Which isn’t to say I now thinking writing isn’t about immortality, just that I haven’t had cause to declare an allegiance in the great What is Writing For debate of humanity. Continue reading
Filed under American literature, Fiction, Orange Prize
A Brief History Of Seven Killings: In which I quit reading the book
I didn’t finish Marlon James’ A Brief History of Seven Killings. I read enough of it that I’m okay writing a review, but if you find my incomplete reading problematic by all means – skip the review. (and I’m sorry M. though maybe you want to quit, too?)
So why did I stop? Continue reading
Filed under Book I'll Forget I Read, Prize Winner
The Noise of Time: I’m not good at irony
To believe in the power of art to create or change politics (for the better) is no small thing. Such belief requires an implicit optimism that the despair and risks of the political moment (of now or any time) has difficulty supporting. Cynicism is a logical, rational response to the political moment of Trump, or in the case of Julian Barnes’ The Noise of Time : Stalin. The personal danger of resisting the cynical impulse by creating art is the question of the novel. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction, New York Times Notable, Prize Winner, Reader Request
Literary Vice 