Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
I'll be honest I've never read a more difficult book in my life and I've read Gravity's Rainbow and Ulysses and Three Trapped Tigers and 2666. I don't really feel like I can give this a proper rating because I only understood about 20% of what was going on at any given point in time. Kudos to Lima for writing a book this dense though! Perhaps one day when I'm very old and have read much much more I'll be able to return to this book and glean something meaningful from it. I think there was gay stuff which is cool!
Overall I really enjoyed this book and I don't think I've read through something this quickly since Lote. Zevin is a very masterful writer and many sections towards the end were especially striking with their changes in narrative structure and experimentation in language. I'm decently familiar with the kind of video games they talk about and the sections where they discuss the mechanics of the fictionalized games were some of my favorite. I'd love to play Ichigo!
There was a lot I wasn't as fond of, however. I found a lot of the romantic/relationship action and discussion to be fairly contrived and far too saccharine in a lot of places (not to mention straight, boring!). I was also super disappointed by what the novel didn't go into further - the tension between capitalist profit and creativity, virtual spaces and the utopias they attempt to create, and the relationship between digital and human memory. I also thought that, by leaving many of these topics underexplored, the book's politics landed pretty solidly in the center-left liberalism that populates bumper stickers and mediocre college Democrat groups. These politics aren't necessarily problematic, but they are incredibly tired and increasingly useless to discuss nowadays.
The absolute blueprint for so much of the literature I adore. It's astounding how Borges can just pump out hit after hit that all consistently press on the edges of our understandings of genre and discourse and narrative.
Some gems from this reread that I didn't pick up on before
The Babylon Lottery
The Secret Miracle
Death and the Compass
The Sect of the Phoenix
Pierre Menard, Orbis Tertius, and Forking Paths continue to be my favorites of his.
I feel so bad writing anything about this book because Cabrera Infante and his translators deserve so much more than anything I can offer.
The novel takes pre-Revolution Cuba (its language, nightlife, literary reputation, personal relationships, etc.) and turns it inside out, shakes its contents onto the ground, and assembles them into a scavenged sculpture of the city and how it's (mis)remembered. I'm particularly in love with Bustrofedon section and its relentless attack of puns and parodies and experimentations. I'll need to return to this novel when I'm leveled up as a reader and bring a map and some pencils along with me.
Also, I understand the Joyce comparisons but I think the novel is equally at home with Pynchon and Ishmael Reed and anticipates beautifully the writing of people like Bolano and Oloixarac.
Had a hard time with this one to be honest. To start with the good, I really appreciated how much work went into the writing, research, and translation of this piece. I learned a lot about different artists and critics. I also appreciated how the narrative occasionally became some other type of text - court notes or auction catalogues, for example.
With these types of metafictional novels very much concerned with the intersection of art and archives and conspiracy (thinking about Pola Oloixarac or Shola von Reinhold), I think it's very hard to address the aesthetic themes without also addressing the ideological impulses that drive aesthetics. All of the characters in this novel didn't seem to struggle much with what it means to forge art or what powers are in place to facilitate or stop art forgery. I think there were a lot of avenues left unexplored, which left the novel lacking, in my eyes.
Clarice is an odd lady writing about odd ladies I love her.
A bit less existentially sparkling than her earlier work but nevertheless incredibly fun and experimental and impactful writing. I'm still thinking through Macabéa as a figure of refusal (like Svejk more than Bartleby) and her relationship to the narrator controlling her story.
Also compelling to read alongside 2666, as both were written as their authors were dying.
I'm going to have to come back later and review this more fully after I have more time to digest everything. I don't know how to rate something like this.
A diary of total breakdown - academic, personal, artistic, legal, moral, discursive collapse of modern society. There's some respite and hope in huddling together and embracing the small pleasures of the senses, but not a ton. I'm reminded a lot of Delany's Dhalgren and Anzaldua's Borderlands. I'm left facing the ghost of Christmas future; is this a picture of what will be, or what may be?
Also all the true crime podcast listeners need to read this, especially the part about the crimes (one of the only sections of a novel I had to put down entirely).
A glittering example of the Assemblage. Jefferson reflects on her constantly changing self as mediated through music, dance, literature, family, race, class, and a rapidly shifting postwar society. She breaks herself (and the genre of memoir) into tiny shimmering pieces and reconstructs them into a new and fluid version of herself and American history.
Would love to see all of my favorite writers do something like this.
This is one of the most thorough indictments of heterosexuality I think I've ever encountered. This book is all about readings and misreadings: of romance, of science, of gender, of war, of culture, of poetry. Garcia Marquez tries his damndest to enchant us into misreading love into a nasty awful man for whom women are an aesthetic commodity.
I somehow managed to avoid this in my American high school education but I'm glad that I'm able to encounter this book for the first time with a fairly critical and practiced eye.
I have a lot of respect for Twain's almost-anthropological approach to depicting dialect (though Jim's was way too over the top sometimes) and the odd little ins and outs of a rapidly shifting American society/understanding of childhood. I think this novel is a serious benchmark in ushering in of a new mode of American prose distinct from the high Romanticism of the books which came earlier.
Twain's attempt at being not racist towards Jim provides an incredibly illustrative example (intentional or otherwise) of how Blackness is (mis)represented through the narrative force of white writing. I'd be interested to see a novel written from Jim's perspective.