LITERATURE: A Summons to Memphis – Finale

I can see where some of today’s readers may feel that this book is boring, lacking real page-turning excitement, and perhaps even call it a navel-gazer. It is, despite the potential for a collision course set by the narrator in the first couple pages, indeed a subtle character analysis. And, while the book is spent in background information that is meant to build up to the present scenario and give it its impact, the information is mainly the narrator’s opinions on his family interaction and how he expects the characters to react to a family crisis.

The basic premise is a scenario that begins with phone calls from the narrator, Phillip’s, two older sisters, quite upset that their widowed wealthy father is about to remarry a younger woman. Phillip’s reflections on his relationship with his father, a rather distant one that he’s escaped to do his own thing in New York City, and the family dynamics between the two spinster sisters and their father, who seem to manipulate the old man in a passive-aggressive resentment.

Taylor lays out an upheaval of the family when the girls were young women and Phillip was an adolescent, where a rift between their father, a lawyer, and his good friend and client, Mr. Lewis Shackleford, causes the family great personal loss and forces them to move from Nashville to Memphis. Taylor does not explain exactly what happened, and I tend to feel that we, like the children, are not supposed to “discuss” it.

Phillip has also been in touch with his childhood friend, Alex Mercer, and it’s another curious relationship as Alex bonded closer with Phillip’s father even as a child, and continued a fairly close communication over the decades.

What all this builds up to, via Phillip’s thoughts as he prepares to answer his sisters’ “summons to Memphis” to supposedly prevent the marriage of his father, would, one might think, be the major dramatic confrontation of the story. Taylor, however, handles it quickly, follows through a time beyond it, and focuses instead on another relationship, that of Phillip and his live-in girlfriend, Holly Kaplan. Even another summons to Memphis brought about by another near-crisis situation (as estimated by his two sisters), turns into more of a settling in for Phillip, a coming-to-terms of his past, his present, and his future.

Taylor wraps the drama up fairly quickly at the end, really, downplaying any expected conflict and focusing instead on how the conflicts are handled by the characters, and how changes, particularly in Phillip and in his girlfriend, Holly, are slowly brought about by events and the distance of time.

It’s an exquisite book on family dynamics and how one is influenced through a lifetime by the past, and how one’s perceptions of the past can be changed by changing one’s own values and priorities. Few writers could bring this slowly told tale along with such depth and subtlety. Taylor skillfully has done so.

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LITERATURE: A Summons to Memphis – Theme and Focus

Taylor does a great job of building up by providing the basis. From the title through the description of setting (or environment that is truly necessary to the story), the reader is given all the details of time, place, characters, and events leading up the phone call (the Summons) that will bring him in alignment with the narrator’s mood, reflection, current situation, and expectations. Because this is done through the narrator’s first person point of view, we must accept that he is at the least, giving us an honest assessment of his family and background according to his cumulative experience.

I questioned his reliability at one point. But then, isn’t every narrator, particularly in first person, giving us his perspective?

Back to the story, which is simply about a couple phone calls to Philip (narrator), as the son of an elderly wealthy widower in Memphis, from his two middle-aged spinster sisters, outlining their fear that their father is about to get married again. Philip has brought us up to date on his childhood under an overbearing and distant father, an ineffective mother, an older brother who escaped into his own brief freedom (to end up killed in the war) and his two older sisters who have in their own way, with both a love and resentment towards their father, have manipulated him over the years. Their fear of losing him to a new wife is real.

What surprised me is that when Taylor brings us, after three-quarters of the book being the setting-up, into the actual visit home, it is an amazingly brief scenario. One would have expected a major conflict, a huge bomb that had been ticking for 150 pages finally exploding. It doesn’t. We wonder why.

Ah, but therein lies Taylor’s skill. We remember how deeply he has our narrator thinking about his life and all the characters. About his close boyhood friend, Alex Mercer who to a certain degree, without planning it, took Philip’s place in his father’s life in a close bonding. We see Philip’s little discoveries made in his reflections, and how his opinions of his sisters evolve into a clearer picture of what brought them to this place in time and how and why they managed to disburse a subtle revenge on their father over the years.

Taylor thus has us realizing that the theme of the story is family dynamics and how individuals are affected by the interaction. What has been maintained as a thin thread throughout–Philip’s relationship with his father, with Alex, and with his live-in but currently absent girlfriend, Holly–all comes into play just as any family crisis or major event brings out long-hidden memories and emotions that must be faced.

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LITERATURE: A Summons to Memphis – Unreliable Narrator?

Aside from the phone call (the “Summons”) in the beginning of the book, there is little–maybe no–dialogue in this narrative. What Taylor is doing–and I’m halfway through–is describing the characters as seen by the narrator in the first person point of view. His method of doing this is by filling the reader in on details of the family’s move from Nashville to Memphis, focusing on the narrator’s two sisters and his father, with a brief explanation of the current whereabouts and status of the narrator himself (New York, live-in girlfriend), and reminding the reader occasionally about the circumstances that require him to respond to the request that he come down to Memphis himself to assist (his father planning marriage).

In the last chapter the narrator has moved onto some background on another character, his best boyhood friend Alex. He is giving us some grounding in the way he and Alex became friends, and more, how Alex and the narrator’s father had automatically formed a close relationship that the narrator himself didn’t manage to establish with his own father.

With all this in-depth perspective on the characters, we get a very clear picture through situations and events of the characters and yet, it is still that; the narrator’s perspective. While we can certainly choose to believe that he believes what he tells us, is it not still a biased view? Does this come under the trust of the reader to believe the narrator’s opinions as being truth or must we take him at his word that what he tells us about these folks is a pretty accurate picture?

Doesn’t this always come into play with the first person pov?

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LITERATURE: A Summons to Memphis – Character Driven

Two chapters into this now and I would say that Taylor paints with a thin brush. By this I mean that his characters, which I’m taking to be the most important focus of the novel, are being revealed so slowly, so meticulously painted in detail, and all via interaction over events that are relatively minor–or at least common to most family dynamics.

The move from Nashville to Memphis has of course been the first major upheaval in their lives and would obviously effect change in each character’s handling of the sudden tearing up of roots. The impetus, the falling out between the father and his legal client, Shackleford, is placed at the heart of the story and yet, the details of this, of what actually happened (theft? loyalty? dishonor? lies?) are not given at all. So the spotlight then falls on the move and its impact on the individuals.

The narrator was around thirteen at the time, had an older brother (who was killed in the war, though I’m not sure exactly at what point of the story), a loving, nurturing mother, a busy but loving father, and two older sisters. The oldest sister, Betsy, was blonde and outgoing, and engaged. The younger, Josephine, was dark-haired and though beautiful, was more intimidated by her older sister’s popularity and lacked confidence.

The changes start almost immediately, before the physical abandoning of the family home. The mother warns the children of their father’s fragile mental state over what has happened to necessitate the move, so that if the name “Mr. Lewis Shackleford” is never to be mentioned, then we find ourselves a bit anxious and disappointed that we, the reader, may never find out the truth–and we were so close!

Betsy’s engagement appears to be in no danger of not transcending the physical distance between her and her fiancee, but we see a new development in the father during the caravan of cars’ ride between Nashville and Memphis. Betsy’s fiancee is along for the ride, and at a stop at a diner, Betsy and he go off to sit at a table where they’ve spotted some friends. Then, they make a decision to lag behind the family to spend a tad more time with these friends. The father takes this as an affront, as we see that having lost his business, perhaps his pride, and his roots, he pulls his family in closer to him as his last sense of grounding and authority. He immediately starts putting doubts in Betsy’s head about her fiancee and does create a friction that causes them to break up.

Josephine on the other hand has felt as a flop in Nashville, bad luck and circumstances and following in the tracks of a much more gregarious and comely older sister, so that Memphis, to her, holds hope of a new beginning, maybe even a second debut into society which might afford her a better chance at finding a beau. And it does–even without the debut–however, their is an unexplainable resentment built up against her not by her sister, but by her mother and her father at her ease in settling into their new environment. Her honesty at being displaced is offset by their stiff upper lipped handling prior to the move, and now they likely are growing weary of the act.

Despite this, the father is more successful in Memphis than he’d ever been in Nashville–that should make him happy. And the mother has become more of a social butterfly in her new surroundings.

What I find interesting is that Peter Taylor has managed to give us these subtle personality changes via little, almost meaningless vignettes of events, progressing the story to build the characters and (likely) eventually round them out completely by the time we get back to the phone call many years later that will bring them all together again.

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LITERATURE: A Summons to Memphis

I’ve loved Peter Taylor’s short stories and was looking forward to spending more time with this eloquent writer. A Summons to Memphis has been sitting on my bookshelf for a while and in my determination to break my two year-long obsession with flash fiction and get into retraining my mind into holding onto a longer attention span.

One of the things I love about Taylor’s writing is his easy way of getting the reader invested in his story. Here’s how the book opens:

The courtship and remarriage of an old widower is always made more difficult when middle-aged children are involved–especially when there are unmarried daughters. (p. 3)

And with that simple opening sentence, Taylor has laid out the premise of his novel. A conflict within a family is always high drama, and it always promises intriguing characters. In this case, even without knowing anything about the family, the place, the era, we already know we can expect some interesting situations here.

Next, in the second sentence of the book, Taylor lays out the setting:

This seemed particularly true in the landlocked, backwater city of Memphis some forty-odd years ago.

There ya go: time and place. All this information and we don’t even know the POV and who the narrator of our tale might be. Taylor makes every word work. “Landlocked, backwater” certainly tells us quite a lot about the provincial nature of the environment, and likely, the characters and how they can be expected to behave.

What we come to find out soon enough is that the narrator is a man who was born in Nashville, had to move with his family to Memphis, a move precipitated by a betrayal by his lawyer father’s client. Taylor deftly switched present to past while getting us caught up on the family history without turning it into an info dump. The title of the book quickly is explained by a phone call from the narrator’s sisters outlining the situation which Taylor mentions in his opening line. Their father is considering marriage to a young woman and the women are requesting their brother’s help in getting the situation fixed.

Taylor’s digging up of the background of this family, focusing on their being uprooted from a happy life in Nashville and being transplanted into a complete new world in Memphis, is exceptional. He manages to cover each character and their personal turmoils and changes while revealing the change in their relationships to each other.

And, Taylor maintains a mystery whilst giving us all this background information: the heart of the story. The whole reason behind the big move to Memphis and the type of man the father really is, particularly since it has been noted in the opening that he will be the cause of coming conflict within the family. But here’s the mystery: What exactly happened between the father and his partner,  Mr. Lewis Shackleford?

 

 

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REALITY?: Finger-pointing in Today’s World

We really need to get God back in our lives. Society’s getting tired of shouldering all the blame.

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REALITY?: Addition and Division

Garner is charged with assault, assault to a victim over 60 years old, two counts of credit card theft and larceny.   (WFSB.com)

Every one of us has a cause that’s more important to us than another, a soft spot for the downtrodden or trait of a particular group. Children, ethnicity, gender, race, etc. This preference based on the same criteria that is used for prejudice issues is considered okay. I’ve always tended to champion the elderly. I do see a problem, however, when it becomes more than an individual choice, but rather the subject of group activism that adds laws that become biases in themselves.

I never understood the long-standing implications of shooting a police officer being more of a serious crime than shooting an innocent bystander. To me, the policeman is armed and expecting a confrontation with a possible outcome of losing his life. It’s not that he should expect to get shot, but his choice of profession put him in a position of higher risk. It also gave him a gun to defend himself. Why is his life worth more than the guy on the street who just happens to be in the bad guy’s way? Either way, there is the taking of one life by another. Somebody’s left grieving.

Why are there “hate crimes” when few assaults are committed out of anything but? To me, again, at least “hate” is a reason–if a horrid one–whereas I’m more troubled by those that kill someone because they just don’t have a respect for human life at all.

Getting back to the story and the seemingly on-the-books charge of “assault to a victim over 60 years old.” Despite its intent (probably being that someone over 60 is not as physically able to defend himself–and that’s questionable), what comes across is that victims over 60 are premium, given higher points, are more valuable and so it’s more serious a crime to knock one of ’em off than it would be to assault someone 40 years old, 30 years old, or even 59. Does that make sense? It’s the same thing with hate crimes based on race, gender; though I cannot help but agree in my gut that killing a child is more abhorrent and tragic.

What these laws do, to me, is to assign values to people’s lives and thus create a more obvious, legally defined inequality of the populace. A human being is a human being. Somebody’s mother, father, child, sibling, relative, friend. To divide us up into rings of a target is wrong somehow. Turning the murder of an individual into an issue subjugates life to a cause. It clouds the reality. And most importantly, it hinders justice. We will never really know if O.J. Simpson killed Nicole Brown Smith.

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CURRENT AFFAIRS: What Can I Say?

This post was making the rounds on Facebook today:

Catchy, isn’t it? Like all words  put together in a rush and thrown out to a hungry public, and they gobbled it right up.

There are two things completely illogical with the above. First, those who believe that they know more about somebody’s profit margins and consumer data and feel that business should be in business to please the public and not to make a living for themselves should at least know that even though THEY prefer salads, the majority of folk evidently do not, and it would be insane to cater to a small faction rather than the masses. If you want to stay in business, that is.

More importantly, there is absolutely no reason to blame the service provider. The options are not $.99 for a burger or $4.99 for a salad. The options are to either go there, or buy a head of lettuce, a bag of carrots or a couple of those Dole salad ready-mades for $1.99 each and have all the salad you can eat for a week.

It’s a sad sign of our times that it’s always somebody else’s fault; the carmaker, the bartender, the fast food business. I shudder to think what our children’s children will be like if we continue on this path. And, we expect society to cover our mistakes.

There is evidently a bill to be introduced asking that certain education loans be forgiven because of the high cost of education and resulting loan balances after graduation, the economy right now not offering college graduates to walk out the ivy walls and into a corner office–or get a job at all, and to “stimulate” the economy.

As to the high costs of tuition and the loans, I’ve read that the average student leaves carrying a burden of $13-25,000 in unpaid loans. Frankly, everyone who has bought a new car owes about the same. Getting a four-year degree that will (someday) increase your income, having it cost an average (on the low side) of $80-100,000 and coming out after four years only owing a quarter or less of that, well that’s damn good, I’d say. Wait’ll you get a mortgage.

The economy is really, really bad right now. This was not something the students may have recognized when they went in, but nobody promised them it couldn’t happen. Go to Plan B. Things change. Adapt.

Stimulate the economy? How? Modifying loan structure and payments, I can understand. But to forgive the loans? How is that seen as fair to anyone who HAS paid for schooling. Or someone like me, who could never afford to go. And if I can’t afford to pay to further my education, I’ll be goddamned if I feel I should pay for theirs.

Society should take care of its own. But not at the expense of others who are only trying to take care of themselves so they  don’t have to look for assistance too.

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WRITING: On Language and Change

It is understood that language changes with time. The easiest way to see this is when invention and technology produce something for which language has no words. Harder to make the transition in both understanding and common usage is connotation. Words that have either a colloquial or common meaning that is harmless may change to hold a more derogatory or degrading meaning dependent upon society’s use. Racial slurs have their seeds in this, as well as medical terms such as “mentally retarded” being shortened to “retard” and it’s subsequent use as a denigrating put-down. Transition goes both ways. Nice to see the word “fuck” recyle itself back into acceptability I suppose.

Such is the case with the word “girl,” which in its time has simply been a term for a young human female, covering a span of infancy to a time of adulthood where the term “woman” may more accurately be applied. Over a period of generations, the term “girl” has been used in an overlapping manner, dependent upon the individual and group perception, i.e., “girls’ night out” can properly and respectfully extend to a group otherwise known as “women” well into their later years.

The term “girl” however has also developed as a derogatory meaning for wimpy, less than man, inferior, when applied to character or performance. “Don’t be such a girl.”  “You run like a girl.”  etc.

Therefore, I am proposing that the community of The Politically Correct advance this as a cause, and restrict to the point of referring to it as “the G word” and find a suitable replacement to cover its original meaning before further offense is taken.

Of course, this is tongue-in-cheek. It goes beyond political correctness to the principle of freedom of speech, and that’s more what I’m concerned with.

I guess I’d say I uphold our right to be ignorant and obnoxious (though don’t approve of either) and wish to deny to the government the right to outlaw specific language, as a mother might take away a toy from a child who has abused it, like cutting the hair off a doll or burying a plastic truck in the backyard. Words are offensive if misused, and that’s up to our real mamas to teach us. That words can hurt and that comes under caring and consideration. The federal government is attempting to make up for the slackness on the part of family by becoming both Mother and Miss Manners. And that scares me.

 

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LITERATURE: Hard-Boiled Wonderland – Finale

Overall, this book probably demanded more concentrated reading than I was able to give it. While I did not lose the trail of the stories, I obviously was not so enamored of them that I let some other things go by undone.

It was a fantastic concept of a futuristic world–yet set in a completely contemporary setting of Japan, 1980s. At least one section was, plus a few underground worlds and some weird groups both above ground and below. The ongoing other world is completely different; safe–if one stays within its walls–due to the sacrifices made. Yet despite the idea that without the sense of self and memories there is no great happiness nor any great despair, there was for me much sadness. The self represented by an intelligent, articulate shadow that must be shed, is treated rather cruelly. The beasts outside of the walls are also there for the purpose of cleaning up after others by absorbing their minds and then in turn die and are destroyed. There are people in the Woods we never get to meet yet we know their lives are miserable. The Caretaker, one who lives on the edge of the Woods but not allowed into the city, is not a happy camper. If the narrator himself has created this world, I’m sure I don’t know why.

Murakami has skillfully created a very detailed weave of narrative, yet he hasn’t taken his characters into full bloom, not even allowing them names. There is a sense of danger in both worlds, from the inklings and the semiotics in one, though we only meet that danger once when the narrator is beaten and his apartment trashed by two men. The inklings, though we read of their powers, are only a whispered rumble close by. In the other world, the Woods are the threat. We really don’t go into them deep enough to face any danger.

After I finished this book, I read again the back cover blurb which claims the story is “hilariously funny.” I’m afraid I didn’t get that part either. Perhaps some of it is due to the fact that I’m reading this book our of its era. It just didn’t appeal, but then, I’m not a huge sci fi fan, which this book can possibly qualify as, and perhaps it is my own fault for not reading and getting into it more expeditiously.

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LITERATURE: Hard-Boiled Wonderland – Telling?

Not nuts about this, after over 350 pages and into the home stretch, that Murakami appears to explain all the goings on that up until this time, we are guessing and forming our own opinions about.

Starting with Chapter 25, (the odd numbers are within the past, I believe) and going through 27, and 28, the narrator finds out a great deal from the Professor who has embedded something in his brain specifically to test out a theory. The professor explains just about everything from his own beginnings with the System, through the narrator’s own purpose and into his future. It did clarify much to me, and yet, I’m not sure I was ever given a chance to reason it out had I wanted to.

Now, in Chapter 32, the narrator’s shadow explains what that world is all about and how it works. It’s just a little too pat and I’m surprised that Murakami didn’t unravel his wondrous tale a little at a time. Unless I missed it and these revelations that are obviously needed to understand where this story is going in the coming together of the two worlds of time are a gentle hand-up to those like me.

While I hesitate to come out and call it an infodump, in have the Professor in one story line and the shadow in the other explain everything to the narrator in a dialogue form, it is in effect explaining everything to the reader as well. It may be because I never got a chance to just read the whole thing through quickly (it took me months because of other obligations) though I did remember what was going on and didn’t have to back-read to refresh my mind (well, maybe once, when I got confused between the two librarians, one in each “world”).

Should be wrapping this up by tomorrow I hope.

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LITERATURE: Hard-Boiled Wonderland – At Long Last

Finally, I’ve reached a concept in the book that really struck me. This dialog between the narrator and his shadow, the shadow slowly dying, still planning its escape, yet anxious to relay what he’s learned since separated from the narrator:

“Just now you spoke of the Town’s perfection. Sure, the people here–the Gatekeeper aside–don’t hurt anyone. No one hurts each other, no one has wants. All are contented and at peace. Why is that? It’s because they have no mind.”

“That much I know too well,” I say.

“It is by relinquishing their mind that the Townfolk lose time; their awareness becomes a clean slate of eternity. As I said, no one grows old or dies. All that’s required is that you strip away the shadow that is the grounding of the self and watch it die. Once your shadow dies, you haven’t a problem in the world. You need only to skim off the discharges of mind that rise each day.”

“Skim off?”

I’ll come back to that later. First, about the mind. You tell me there is no fighting or hatred or desire in the Town. That is a beautiful dream, and I do want your happiness. But the absence of fighting or hatred or desire also means the opposites do not exist either. No joy, no communion, no love. Only where there is disillusionment and depression and sorrow does happiness arise; without the despair of loss, there is no hope.” (p. 334)

After all the oddness the two worlds have revealed as Murakami has drawn them (I at first thought they were parallel, now feel they are more past and future, as indicated by the tense structure as well), it is this lesson or possibility that he has brought us to: losing one’s self into the will of the community and secondly, one extreme demands its opposite, or otherwise normalcy involves a type of apathy.

This last thought reminds me instantly of the need for evil to know good, for sadness to have happiness, etc. that is a topic of importance in The Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius. It is based on the theory that if we have not experienced sadness, for example, then we could not comprehend its opposite of happiness because there would be no way to gauge the contrast. I find as I grow older I am more convinced of this personally. Traumatic events of the past hold their own in my mind until something worse might happen; same thing with events or people who delight me. Age hones the senses rather than dulling them, I think. And to shut oneself off from the world in order to protect oneself, to attempt to live in peace and harmony, tends instead, to numb one to all feelings, good or bad, frightening or comforting.

I’m getting towards the last 50 pages here, and I’m anxious now to see how Murakami fuses his two worlds. He has already made the narrator aware in the past that he will die and move onto another world, but as we see the present, the shadow here is speaking of escape before it itself dies, and is begging the narrator to leave with it.

And this is neat; within the expected action and resolution crops up another conflict: his feelings towards the Librarian.

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REALITY?: Elections and Such

I didn’t listen to the State of the Union address last night; didn’t even read the full text the next day as I usually do. Nor have I been following the GOP primaries. The time to listen to politicians is certainly not in an election year when lies fly like bullets.

My concern in upcoming major elections is not as much who gains the oval office, but more importantly, that neither party ever again gains control of the presidency, the House, and the Senate, all three.

This to me is the very antithesis of a democracy. At best it represents the will of half the populace. I would prefer the frustrations and time delays of gridlock (gridlock, meaning that two opposing sides cannot compromise; not that one will not bend to the wishes of the other and take the full blame for the hold-up) to the steamrolling over of one half of society’s desires and values in favor of the other’s. Forcing one political policy on the entire population of a country is called a dictatorship.

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LITERATURE: Murakami’s Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World

First of all, let me say that I’ve been reading this book like forever, or at least it seems that way. To be fair, my mind had been retrained to seek the immediate resolution of flash fiction and thus a novel-length book was suddenly overwhelming unless it was quick-paced action that required little involvement from the reader. Murakami demands more.

I’m not totally convinced that the story itself and even the writing wasn’t falling a bit short of my expectations. Surely McCarthy or Faulkner would not have let me put them down for weeks at a time. And this story of Murakami’s is not one that is easily followed unless you keep in mind that there are two stories here: likely the same narrator, a futuristic analyst with a brain implant who is caught up in a weird world of a scientist and his granddaughter in one; and in the other, a dream reader who must give up his shadow and live within the confines of a town walled in and watched over by a Gatekeeper. The former is written in the past tense, the latter in the present.

The thing with Murakami is that he manages to create unusual environments, lay them out, people them with characters with whom for some reason, have depth but do not truly elicit empathy, juggle pace and plots so that sometimes reading two pages is a chore and sometimes reading twenty flies by in a snap, include dull details interspersed with danger and action, and toss action and danger amid dull details.

There is no real lovely language here; it is stark and perfectly suited to the dreary starkness of both worlds. Even in the simplicity of words the settings emerge real enough in the reader’s mind–even if it’s not what Murakami himself imagined. Therefore, there wasn’t anything I read that sent me dashing off to the laptop to blog about and share, until this:

No, these holes could go on forever. And I would never get to read that morning edition. The fresh ink coming off on your fingers. Thick with all the advertising inserts. The Prime Minister’s wake-up time, stock market reports, whole family suicides, chawan-mushi recipes, the length of skirts, record album reviews, real estate, . . . (pg. 235)

This is the narrator’s thoughts as he’s following the scientist’s granddaughter through a slick black plateau of holes from which leeches emerge in this underground world. The thought is odd because as the story is evidently the future, the looking back to a more normal present for this character goes further back to a time not of DVDs or CDs but of “record album” reviews. And newspapers–which have already become a rarity for morning reading.

Even as I feel these two stories are of the same character and are separated by time, there is at last a reference in one of the other:

Back to the newsreel, arcs of water shooting across the screen, spillway emptying into the big bowl below. Dozens of camera angles: up, down, head on, this side, that side, long, medium, zoom in close-up on the tumbling waters. An enormous shadow of the arching water is cast against the concrete expanse. I star, and the shadow gradually becomes my shadow. (pg. 238)

This, in the dark underground world, as he is following the granddaughter to some sort of safety. This, while in the parallel narrative, he has given up his shadow to the Gatekeeper.

And, a hint at what is perhaps being drawn out as a theme; the loss of self? No names are given to the narrator nor any of the main characters. They are the Professor, the Colonel, the chubby granddaughter, the Librarian, etc. This would also tie in with the rather flat characters who we never-the-less endow with a sense of reality. And just at this point in the story, the narrator also begins to realize that when he gave up his shadow, he gave up his memory, his own sense of who and what he is.

I’m not sure whether the story’s getting better at this point or I’m just coming down from a flash-fiction high and learning to concentrate for longer than two minutes, but I know I’m enjoying the story more and want to read, rather than pushing myself out of guilt.

(Still, I must admit that reading the jacket blurb describing the book as  “hilariously funny” isn’t something I remember feeling at all.)

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LITERATURE & REALITY?: Getting Back Into Reading

Well yes, I guess the last full novel I read was “The Namesake” back in April 2011. And yes, shortly thereafter I started Murakami’s Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of The World but in truth, I’d only made it 200 pages in by the end of the year.

Well of course I’ve been reading! Short flash pieces of my friends’ work. Poetry, art (yes, you can read art just as you can paint a story), too much current event news coverage, and my own pieces as I flash-edit (a new term I’ve just made up to indicate the fast nature of flash fiction writing). That’s what I spent most of last year doing: writing. Every day, a story a day. Now I need to organize them all in Tinderbox (as I did the previous year’s 100 Days Project), tag them with style or theme if not genre, clean them up, and plan to put a book or two together out of them and make some attempt to publish.

I’m also getting (or planning on getting) more active with my reading and reviewing here at Spinning. I suspect that my couple of years of reading and writing flash fiction may have tuned my mind into short spurts of attention, and I may have to slowly expand it into novel length not only to read, but to write.

See, I’m also planning on writing a hypertext narrative of novel length.

But first, I’ve just gone through fifty more pages of Murakami today and once I go back and refresh my memory with what I read in the beginning of the book, I’ll post the first review. Not my usual style, where I’d post almost daily as I read, but it’s a start!

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