> “Are they though? “Chloe asked. “Is it ever more complicated than, Do you believe in human rights? She was smiling, but her eyes were clear and dark. She was not joking.
That's a moment I have lived many times and it's never not creepy.
I have to admit that when Taylor said to you he was going to try to reclaim all that a novel can do as a novel, I had hoped the outcome would be different. What I miss more than anything else in recent novels (and I can't be alone, can I?) is a high style—what I refer to as Spenserian. It appears that Minor Black Figures, which I don't doubt is very good, still, is written in the same low style as other books. Since Taylor has name-checked Dickens, what I love most about Dickens is his lyrical moments, whether to promote the sentimental or surreal. He pushes the envelope. He experiments with sentence structure and grammar. You learn new words, new dialects, new forms of grammar from reading his books. His best lyrical passages compare to the finest poetry. They linger in your mind like spectors of a silent world. These things don't just go for him. What makes the novels of Dickens or Eliot or Trollope great is that they dignify commonplace subjects in England, such as poverty, sibling rivalry, or marriage, with language befitting the gods of Rome. Even in our dear mutual friend, Evelyn Waugh, the characters bounce in and off stage in elaborate gay costumes, as if part of a Renaissance masque. Why can't novels do that anymore? Or do they, and I just don't know the right ones? I miss decorum. Cormac McCarthy had it, and now he's gone. Who else?
I don't disagree that there is a lot of minimal prose in modern fiction, and if I were to write about that I might take a similar view to you. There's a new Pynchon and DeWitt out which may be what you are looking for.
But if I can recommend YOU one book, Henry, in return—The Glimpses of the Moon by Edmund Crispin. The author released it just before he died. It's the work of a cranky old alcoholic utterly disgusted with baby boomers in the 70s and possibly the funniest book I know.
I'm in a weird situation right now: I just moved to St Louis to start seminary and don't have access to a great library. The literature section at the school library is very skewed to a certain type of person's taste. I used to get all my books through my undergrad’s library (Go Big Red!), so now I am wanting to see if I can get a membership with Washington or St Louis University. Actually I planned on going to WashU today before work until I got lazy. If all fails I can wait.
Thank you for sharing this thought—I’m revising/editing my sophomore effort as a novelist, and while I have no idea if I could accomplish such a thing ever in my lifetime, this is something that I want to remember & ponder
> “Are they though? “Chloe asked. “Is it ever more complicated than, Do you believe in human rights? She was smiling, but her eyes were clear and dark. She was not joking.
That's a moment I have lived many times and it's never not creepy.
What a wonderfully thoughtful and thought provoking piece. The best book review I’ve read in a long while.
🙏
How can I NOT seek out this book now? Many thanks
Henry, can you be my shrink for a little bit?
I have to admit that when Taylor said to you he was going to try to reclaim all that a novel can do as a novel, I had hoped the outcome would be different. What I miss more than anything else in recent novels (and I can't be alone, can I?) is a high style—what I refer to as Spenserian. It appears that Minor Black Figures, which I don't doubt is very good, still, is written in the same low style as other books. Since Taylor has name-checked Dickens, what I love most about Dickens is his lyrical moments, whether to promote the sentimental or surreal. He pushes the envelope. He experiments with sentence structure and grammar. You learn new words, new dialects, new forms of grammar from reading his books. His best lyrical passages compare to the finest poetry. They linger in your mind like spectors of a silent world. These things don't just go for him. What makes the novels of Dickens or Eliot or Trollope great is that they dignify commonplace subjects in England, such as poverty, sibling rivalry, or marriage, with language befitting the gods of Rome. Even in our dear mutual friend, Evelyn Waugh, the characters bounce in and off stage in elaborate gay costumes, as if part of a Renaissance masque. Why can't novels do that anymore? Or do they, and I just don't know the right ones? I miss decorum. Cormac McCarthy had it, and now he's gone. Who else?
I don't disagree that there is a lot of minimal prose in modern fiction, and if I were to write about that I might take a similar view to you. There's a new Pynchon and DeWitt out which may be what you are looking for.
Thanks for the kind response. I don't know much about DeWitt, so I will have to give her a try.
Omg The Last Samurai is really excellent probably the best novel by a living writer you will surely love her work
But if I can recommend YOU one book, Henry, in return—The Glimpses of the Moon by Edmund Crispin. The author released it just before he died. It's the work of a cranky old alcoholic utterly disgusted with baby boomers in the 70s and possibly the funniest book I know.
I'm in a weird situation right now: I just moved to St Louis to start seminary and don't have access to a great library. The literature section at the school library is very skewed to a certain type of person's taste. I used to get all my books through my undergrad’s library (Go Big Red!), so now I am wanting to see if I can get a membership with Washington or St Louis University. Actually I planned on going to WashU today before work until I got lazy. If all fails I can wait.
Thank you for sharing this thought—I’m revising/editing my sophomore effort as a novelist, and while I have no idea if I could accomplish such a thing ever in my lifetime, this is something that I want to remember & ponder
A very good review, and yet the excerpts from the work under review seem dreadful and in no way interest me into reading it.
Fantastic piece.