|
|
I'm reading about three or four different books right now, having just concluded Siri Hustvedt's The Blindfold. I'm reading another of hers, What I loved, and you can certainly see the dialogue that takes place between her books and those of her husband, Paul Auster; of the two, I think I may actually prefer Hustvedt's, and I'd put The Blindfold up there with The New York Trilogy, although she seems to manipulate a degree of subtlety that Auster does not -- which is not a bad thing on either side. What I Loved does not grip me as much as The Blindfold did, there's a certain distance to the narrator's voice that I can't reconcile just yet, but it still intrigues. The Blindfold, by contrast, practically swims along and you're just caught in the prose tides -- I also like it's form, interlinked short stories that jump around in time (and are folded into each other in ways that make our heroine, Iris, seem a very unreliable narrator). Once I'm finished this one, I may be inclined to start a thread up about her work in general, if anyone's interested.
Also rereading our own Dusto's Icelander, more for inspiration than anything else.
Michael Chabon's book of essays, Maps and Legends, kicks along at a good pace. Some of it I'd read before -- he includes one introduction cribbed from one of the McSweeney's collections -- but he demonstrates some awareness of his own pretensions and the prose is funny and smart. He's very reflective. There's a good piece of Will Eisner, one on Howard Chaykin's American Flag!, golems...
And somewhere in there is Ali Smith's contribution to that myths series that Margaret Atwood fired up with The Penelopiad. Smith presents one of the Metamorphoses as Girl Meets Boy. I'm only a page or so in, but the voice is jaunty, if you can imagine that. |
|
|