Monthly Archives: January 2012

Kant and the Platypus – Umberto Eco

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Translated from the Italian by Alastair McEwen

Six months (?) and some hundred (eighty) pages in, and I had to give up. And barely on nodding acquaintance with the platypus. The pity of it is that this is a beautifully written book, but the concepts were some way beyond this average lay-person. Perhaps for the exceptional lay-person, or for the reader with some experience of philosophy, the writing and ideas would combine into an incomparable whole.

[Edit: In retrospect I notice that I forgot to say what the book does/is for. Some reviewer I am! Kant and the playpus is a collection of philosophical essays on the subjects of language and cognition. Hope that helps!]

My only criticism is really a criticism of the translation, which translates Eco’s Italian but not his Latin.

Eco begins right at the beginning. What is language? How is it formed? How do we arrive at a universal consensus?
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The Flight of Icarus – Raymond Queneau

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Translated from the French by Barbara Wright


Having read a couple of novels by Italo Calvino, and a couple by Georges Perec, it would have been rude to ignore co-founding member of the Oulipo group, Raymond Queneau.

In the true spirit of Oulipo Queneau offers no ordinary novel, but a flight of fantastical metafiction, set out in the form of a playscript.

On one level this is a very, very silly book which hams it up for laughs. And it works. It is very funny, a swift and entertaining read, with a surprisingly satisfactory ending. On another level, (and I read this on Wikipedia, or some such place) Queneau has constructed a collage of pastiche, weaving in Pirandello and Robbe-Grillet, amongst others. Not being familiar with either of those authors, that passed me by, though the pop at French fin-de-siecle literature is obvious (mainly because the characters point it out) and I was able to detect just a hint of Inspector Clouseau (bad disguises!) For me there was also a connection with Gogol’s The Nose. Which isn’t terribly helpful when you consider that I didn’t exactly ‘get’ The Nose.
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Caught – Henry Green

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Set in, and just prior to, the London of the Blitz, Green’s modernist work of realism is an improbably sparkling jewel of a novel. Colours and light abound; illuminating, concealing; invoking shadow, blood; nuancing the shades of grey. Perhaps it would be better to say that it is a riot of colour. This would be the sort of literal metaphor in which Green revels.

It isn’t an easy read. That is, it is easily read, but understanding comes harder.
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Faulks on Fagin

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In his Faulks on Fiction Faulks picks Fagin as one of his representatives of the character type he designates “villain.” Rightly so. He also observes that it is Fagin who carries Oliver Twist, with which I whole-heartedly concur.

I find it harder to agree with his dogged defence of Dickens in the face of the charges of anti-Semitism which have been, inevitably, levelled against the Victorian writer as a result of his ‘Jewish’ villain. Why did he make Fagin Jewish? Faulks argues that Dickens gives Fagin no characteristics that we would associate with Jewish stereotypes, negative or otherwise. Fagin is not characterised with reference to religious or cultural observance. The label “Jew” is therefore just that, a useful identifier which adds a little colour.
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Gravity’s Rainbow Rides Out

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From the team who brought us 2666, Ulysses and Moby Dick…

Infinite Zombies proudly present: Gravity’s Rainbow.

So. Any one up for a behemoth?

This would not be my first attempt at a read-along of Gravity’s Rainbow, and to the Pynchon purist I can only apologise. My motives are compounded ten percent optimism and ninety percent bloody-mindedness, and Pynchon for Pynchon’s sake is lost somewhere in the mix. The optimism dervies from Zombies driven success with the three titles listed at the top of this post. The bloody-mindedness? Well, that’s just me.

Daryl proposes the first eighty pages and a first post for 27th Feb, so if that sounds like a good time for you and you fit one of the two pertinent categories; Pynchon enthusiast or reader with masochistic tendencies; then clear twelve weeks in your diary and head over to Infinite Zombies to sign up.

Pistache – Sebastian Faulks

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pistache, pis-tash n. a friendly spoof or parody of another’s work. [Deriv uncertain. Possibly a cross between pastiche and p**stake.]

I once picked up an According to Spike Milligan. The subsequent strong urge to wash my hands, repeatedly, was almost irresistible. Should anyone be so rash as to emulate my careless action I suggest protective gloves at the very least, preferably a full hazmat suit. Introducing profanity, reproductive parts and lavatorial reference does not a pastiche or piss-take make.

But to Faulks. Faulks may insert those things without fear of reproof because he is true to the style of his target, and allows that to dictate what may or may not be said. And in so far as he covers writers with whom I am familiar, he never misses his shot. When Martin Amis sends his lad to Hogwarts and Samuel Pepys still loves London life profanity and body parts are par for the course. And then there is Chaucer. This is how Faulks, perfectly innocently, slips in a frowned upon word:
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Adolphe – Benjamin Constant

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Adolphe is a little French curiosity from the early nineteenth century, a cautionary tale, painfully trying to get to grips with some kind of meaningful morality.

The protagonist Adolphe will bring his passion to bear on an older woman, causing a love in her which he cannot match in either intensity or longevity. Early in the novel Adolphe makes several statements which suggest an intellect which exceeds his capacity for feeling, a principled disregard for dogma, be it social or religious, and a contempt for the unwitting hypocrisy of those who attempt to accommodate their failings within convention.
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How Novels Work – John Mullan

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The title sets out Mullan’s intentions with admirable brevity, and there are some useful endorsements within the front cover which give a clue to his method.

“[...] above all communicated in plain English”

“Mullan is willing to go where other academics do not usually deign to tread”

It is also worth noting that the book is drawn from articles originally written for his column in The Guardian, although “completely rewritten”. Mullan has rearranged articles by topic where they were originally ordered by novel. Finally, it is perhaps significant that he acknowledges his wife’s recommendations of fictional examples* which, she will, he says, find “masquerading as [his] own.”

I don’t know if my slightly negative reaction to this book is coming across yet, but yes, I did have some problems with it. Critics seem oddly liable to attract the rough side of my critical tongue. Which is not so much irony as justice, really.
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