Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Bruno Schulz, Street of Crocodiles (1934) and Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass (1937)

Schulz was a Polish author who wrote these two slim short story collections (and possibly a few more stories not included here; all I know is that these were the only ebook editions I could find).  In 1942 he was casually murdered by some fucking piece of shit nazi.
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Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Robert Coover, Huck Out West (2017)

Hey look, a new novel by the eighty-four-year-old Robert Coover!  And it’s...a sequel to Huckleberry Finn, of all things?  I did NOT see that coming!  But once I did, there was no way in heck I was not going to read that shit.  When you think about it, it’s kind of surprising that more writers haven’t essayed something like this with Twain’s safely-out-of-copyright work.  I mean, a few have, but they’re sure not well-known enough that I’m able to name them.  Will Coover be the one to turn the tide?!?  While no one could have predicted this, it actually makes a lot of sense when you think about it.  Coover has always been interested in the sort of Americana that Twain himself played a big part in creating.  The Origin of the Brunists is about weird, cultish, religious mania; The Public Burning is about our flavor of political insanity (and BOY do I wish that brilliant novel weren’t seeming more apropos than ever).  He’s also written novels about baseball, noir, and the Western.  This is a natural, really.
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Tuesday, March 07, 2017

Joseph Heller, Catch-22 (1961)

"You hadn't read Catch-22? Really?" Yes, really! I was actually assigned it in a college class, but this was while I was still somewhat half-assed, and I never got past the first friggin' page or two, where Yossarian is censoring mail. In retrospect, it always seemed odd to me, as this does indeed feel like something I would've read at some point. So, I decided to remedy that. Although to be probably would've been better if I'd been less half-assed and read it back in the day. I feel like if I were younger, the nihilistic fatalism would've seemed more edgy; the black absurdist humor more revolutionary (and, well...funnier).
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