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The United States of America Versus Theodore John Kaczynski: Ethics, Power and the Invention of the Unabomber, Michael Mello. 1999. 367pp. University library. DNF.
An interesting text that suffers a few (lawyerly?) infelicities of craft—unnecessary repetitions, extended sequences of thought experiment, and a comparison of Kaczynski to the abolitionist John Brown that does function but feels in bad taste. I don’t have the legal background to evaluate the actual argument: that Kaczynski’s lawyers erred ethically and legally by trying to force an insanity defense over the strenuous and coherent objections of Kaczynski, who wanted a political trial. It is, however, a very believable proposal. Pulled this blind for a research purpose it didn’t suit, and I only have so much time in this mortal life, so returned it early.
+++
On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong. 2019. 246pp. Borrowed from a friend.
Perhaps I’ve just read too much middling fiction in a voice imitative of this one to hear it correctly. The lyrical phrasing loses power for its ubiquity and at times acquires a wincing tendency toward the outright bathetic that I can’t hear as tongue-in-cheek juxtaposition, though I tried (pizza bagels?) I have a feeling the tragic love interest in this book, who is made to represent the opioid epidemic, is completely invented despite the halo of memoir which hangs over the rest of the text. If that were in fact the case I would find it self-aggrandizing in a strange way. As I sought to be dissuaded of this feeling, and found no evidence one way or another, the taste in my mouth went sour and sourer. I would be kinder if it weren’t so widely acclaimed and beloved. More power to those for whom it resonates. I have certainly experienced works that were uneven in terms of craft but spoke piercingly about an experience I shared; I hope this novel works that way for other people.
+++
On the Road, Jack Kerouac. 1957. 307pp. Local library.
V., Thomas Pynchon. 1963. 560pp. Local library.
Provoked much rumination and uncertainty. Of course these two classic novels have much to recommend them. In Kerouac, the tender observation of the lived senses: "The bottom of the world is gold and the world is upside down." In Pynchon, the hilarious relentless density. But I have difficulty reading around the absolutely incessant treatment of women in both novels as some kind of emptyheaded appliance you can fuck. Kerouac’s mysterious Mexicans and jolly African-Americans, dark symbols which always uncipher, conveniently, to validate his personal ideology, also provoked me to distraction.
I am bored by my own habit of totting up ideological merits and demerits in books I read and would prefer to be able to take what is useful to me from anywhere. What am I looking for, an apology? At the same time these elements make up my honest and considered reaction to the texts and I can’t have any other, and the problem is simply so omnipresent and unavoidable. I would prefer to only waste diary on the diatribe this one time but we'll see. Will likely test out Kerouac’s more philosophical works in future. Will likely read everything Pynchon someday if tentatively. I have no idea if I liked V. although its impressiveness is hard to deny, but much was clarified when I realized he was only 26 the year it was published. I am ready to be convinced.
+++
Mongol Imperialism: The Policies of the Grand Qan Möngke in China, Russia, and the Islamic Lands, 1251–1259, Thomas T. Allsen. 1987. 278pp.
The Mongols, David O. Morgan. 1992. 238pp.
Both excellent. As in general for academic books I obtain mainly for research, I read only what I needed. (May find some way to mark this in future; I read a fair bit for research, and rarely log it, but I read such a substantial amount of these books and they pair so well together....) I was interested this month in governance and logistics of premodern empire. These writers share a knack for well-tuned sentences and thoughtful balancing of evidence (to my inexpert eye) and also occasionally indulge in the academic dry wit that is the treat of historical reading.
+++
Selected favourite short stories and poems:
An interesting text that suffers a few (lawyerly?) infelicities of craft—unnecessary repetitions, extended sequences of thought experiment, and a comparison of Kaczynski to the abolitionist John Brown that does function but feels in bad taste. I don’t have the legal background to evaluate the actual argument: that Kaczynski’s lawyers erred ethically and legally by trying to force an insanity defense over the strenuous and coherent objections of Kaczynski, who wanted a political trial. It is, however, a very believable proposal. Pulled this blind for a research purpose it didn’t suit, and I only have so much time in this mortal life, so returned it early.
+++
On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong. 2019. 246pp. Borrowed from a friend.
Perhaps I’ve just read too much middling fiction in a voice imitative of this one to hear it correctly. The lyrical phrasing loses power for its ubiquity and at times acquires a wincing tendency toward the outright bathetic that I can’t hear as tongue-in-cheek juxtaposition, though I tried (pizza bagels?) I have a feeling the tragic love interest in this book, who is made to represent the opioid epidemic, is completely invented despite the halo of memoir which hangs over the rest of the text. If that were in fact the case I would find it self-aggrandizing in a strange way. As I sought to be dissuaded of this feeling, and found no evidence one way or another, the taste in my mouth went sour and sourer. I would be kinder if it weren’t so widely acclaimed and beloved. More power to those for whom it resonates. I have certainly experienced works that were uneven in terms of craft but spoke piercingly about an experience I shared; I hope this novel works that way for other people.
+++
On the Road, Jack Kerouac. 1957. 307pp. Local library.
V., Thomas Pynchon. 1963. 560pp. Local library.
Provoked much rumination and uncertainty. Of course these two classic novels have much to recommend them. In Kerouac, the tender observation of the lived senses: "The bottom of the world is gold and the world is upside down." In Pynchon, the hilarious relentless density. But I have difficulty reading around the absolutely incessant treatment of women in both novels as some kind of emptyheaded appliance you can fuck. Kerouac’s mysterious Mexicans and jolly African-Americans, dark symbols which always uncipher, conveniently, to validate his personal ideology, also provoked me to distraction.
I am bored by my own habit of totting up ideological merits and demerits in books I read and would prefer to be able to take what is useful to me from anywhere. What am I looking for, an apology? At the same time these elements make up my honest and considered reaction to the texts and I can’t have any other, and the problem is simply so omnipresent and unavoidable. I would prefer to only waste diary on the diatribe this one time but we'll see. Will likely test out Kerouac’s more philosophical works in future. Will likely read everything Pynchon someday if tentatively. I have no idea if I liked V. although its impressiveness is hard to deny, but much was clarified when I realized he was only 26 the year it was published. I am ready to be convinced.
+++
Mongol Imperialism: The Policies of the Grand Qan Möngke in China, Russia, and the Islamic Lands, 1251–1259, Thomas T. Allsen. 1987. 278pp.
The Mongols, David O. Morgan. 1992. 238pp.
Both excellent. As in general for academic books I obtain mainly for research, I read only what I needed. (May find some way to mark this in future; I read a fair bit for research, and rarely log it, but I read such a substantial amount of these books and they pair so well together....) I was interested this month in governance and logistics of premodern empire. These writers share a knack for well-tuned sentences and thoughtful balancing of evidence (to my inexpert eye) and also occasionally indulge in the academic dry wit that is the treat of historical reading.
+++
Selected favourite short stories and poems:
- "Servants with Torches" by Donald Windham (The Penguin Book of Gay Short Stories, eds. David Leavitt & Mark Mitchell, 1994)
- "Some of These Days" by James Purdy (The Penguin Book of Gay Short Stories)
- "Cloister" by Ann Copeland (The Penguin Anthology of Stories by Canadian Woman, ed. Denise Chong, 1997)
- "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg