Look at Me - Jennifer Egan

 

After liking-without-loving A Visit from the Goon Squad I decided to read another Egan novel as I had just read a couple of books by Rachel Kushner and felt that I might as well read something more by the another widely acclaimed American female author. 

And this one absolutely blew me away. It had all the markers of a "great American novel" for me. Part suburbia, part big city. A healthy dose of criticism of systemic flaws. A main characters who is complex, multifaceted and, ultimately, oddly relatable. 

Yet, the novel's greatest accomplishment is probably its being ahead of the times, with a character in Z who just about predates the drama of 9/11 and whose life shares so many similarities with what we know of those of many other terrorists who have emerged ever since. 

The Flamethrowers - Rachel Kushner

The Mars Room is still my favourite Kushner novel to date. I possibly had too high expectations of The Flamethrowers, and while I found it a really enjoyable novel, I didn't quite think it was one of the best of the 21st century, failing short of being either a "great American novel" or a "great transnational novel". 

The parts that I found most exciting were without a doubt the American ones - in particular the ones set in Utah, between the mentions of Spiral Jetty, the discussions of the main character's artistic and photographic aspirations, and her motorcycle rides (whose epic nature reminded me of Peter Carey's A Long Way from Home). 

The Italian section, on the other hand, left me quite dissatisfied, between an overview of the situation that feels superficial, a family dynamic that I found fairly uninteresting, and the decision to cross the border into France in the one place that all readers must know (Mount Blanc - I was unimpressed). While some reviewers argue that Kushner wrote a great novel about Italian terrorism in the 1970s, I think this pales in comparison to, say, Dario Ferrari's La Ricreazione E' Finita. 

Empty Hearts - Juli Zeh

I didn't quite know what to read at some point this summer, so I landed on another book by Juli Zeh as I had greatly enjoyed Unterleuten. 

Empty Hearts wasn't quite as good a read. The wacky premise (an agency that identifies, recruits and trains potential suicidal terrorists to then assign to organizations) reminded me a bit of some of Franzen's most original plot twists. The problem for me, however, was that it's something that becomes very quickly hard to sustain and would place any author in danger of having to jump the shark in order to reach some sort of conclusion. 

And ultimately Juli Zeh jumps the shark here, without great results (at least for me). 

La Ricreazione E' Finita - Dario Ferrari

I got this book thinking it'd be a (reasonably) pleasant light read that would leave no lasting memory. Said assumption was motivated by the synopsis on the novel's jacket presenting the main character as a symbol of the generation of the pseudo-promising pseudo-young pseudo-intellectuals that fill the Italian universities on precarious contracts. So something that was bound to resonate with me, but also something that I've heard so much about that was quite unlikely to find this book particularly interesting and novel. 

Clearly, I was in for a big surprise. The sections on the beginning of the protagonist's doctorate are pleasant and fresh (and his web of relationships made me think of Eshkol Nevo's World Cup Wishes), but the detailed story of the fictional writer/terrorist that he ends up researching is something that absolutely steals the scene. 

Sure, I could have done without some things (I would have loved for the main character to also interact with some non-Italians in Paris - man, do my people ever leave their country, even when they cross its borders?!? - and his infatuation for the pretty younger girl in the second half of the book leaves a lot to be desired), but the final pages, with a twist that I definitely did not see coming, make up for any  minor shortcoming. 

Leviathan - Paul Auster

 

With my most sincere apologies to 4 3 2 1 , I think this is the Paul Auster novel to end all Paul Auster novels. 

It is the first Auster's novel I had heard of (possibly the first that my parents read?), but, not being as ubiquitous in all second-hand bookshops as The New York Trilogy, also one that I hadn't touched until the Westminster library kindly gave me access to the e-book. 

Besides the traditional Auster trademarks (chance, mystery, fortuitous crossings of metaphorical paths) what particularly struck me of this novel is how relevant to today's world it still feels. Perhaps, after all, America and its identity (crisis) hasn't changed that much since the end of the Cold War...

Falling Man - Don DeLillo

I wonder whether all of Don DeLillo's books get remaindered within 24 hours. Seriously, there's always at least two of his novels at Fopp. Not that I'm complaining though, as ultimately I tend to like most (if not all) of them. 

Falling Man is a typical DeLillo book, with typical troubled characters victims of traumatic events (in this case, 9/11) and struggling to live their lives as the parameters around them are shifting. 

What was good was the idea of the artist (the Falling Man of the title), the fictionalized accounts of the moment in which the planes hit the towers as seen from the inside, and the children looking up at the sky in search of the mysterious "Bill Lawton". 

What was possibly not so good was the bizarre link (through a suitcase) between the two survivors. 

And what was ultimately a bad sign for the book is that, despite having finished it only a couple of weeks ago, I have already forgotten most of it. 

Platform - Michel Houellebecq

After giving Houellebecq a chance and loving The Map and the Territory I stole my mom’s copy of Platform (a rather atypical 50p buy from the family-friendly local farm). And it was just a bit too much.

I don’t think I’m too much of straight do-gooder, and I’m often rather cynical, but after reading about the protagonist’s 400^th blowjob I just lost interest. The exploitation of the sexual potential of the Far East was intriguing, the terrorist attack brutal and the reaction to it interesting even if completely politically incorrect, but the constant references to sex were just plain boring after a while.

Then again, maybe I would have enjoyed it more as a horny teenager (though at the same time it makes me wonder how many men in their 50s have the sort of stamina of the protagonist – I surely won’t…).

The Lost Honour of Katharina Blum - Heinrich Böll

I thought Group Portrait with Lady was too long and lost its magic in the final 50 pages. I now think that The Lost Honour of Katharina Blum is too short and never gets to have much magic in the first place.

As usual, this is a novel about ordinary German people in turbulent times, but either because of its shortness or because of the historical period (though, being Italian, I would have expected to find its take on German political terrorism in the 1970s more interesting), I found this book, for want of a better term, a bit "hmpf"...

And I am now leaving this post much like the book itself - short and a bit pointless

Panther in the Basement – Amos Oz

The first book by Amos Oz that I read. Started and finished it in a quiet room in the Louvre, on a day when entry was free, it was pouring outside, and I just had to kill time before flying out of Paris after a few days there.

Unlike Grossman’s books for young adults, this is a book about young adults, but not exclusively for them. It tells the story of a Palestine torn by the British-Zionist conflict, just before it started to be torn by the Arab-Israeli one, a time in which the Jewish were launching terrorist attacks because – as Ben M’Hidi teaches the viewers in The Battle of Algiers – terrorism is the weapon of the poor: “If we have your airplanes it would be a lot easier for us. Give us your bombers, and you can have our baskets”.

The entire book is written with an extremely delicate touch. Obviously, an adult reader (but probably, given the uniqueness of the historical moment and the way Israel has changed since, not even a young reader) cannot identify with the main character, but this doesn’t deter from the book, which remains a novel about a largely underexplored historical period and with quite a number of insightful comments.

My Revolutions – Hari Kunzru

 

Hari Kunzru signed my copy of the book, dedicating it to “a great interpreter” (claim to fame, yay!) after I translated a fairly embarrassing speech by a local politician at the same literary festival where I worked for Hanif Kureishi (and Paul Auster – those were the times...).

This book is an absolute gem. It touches all the right notes and it’s perfectly researched (mostly in the archives of the university where I work). It paints a very accurate picture of some incredibly tumultuous times and their lingering effects on the people who experienced them, or at least it seems that way for a kid who – at the end of the day – hasn’t really protested against anything since 2003 (when Iraq was invaded I thought chaining myself to the entrance gate of my high-school would have done some good – it quite clearly didn’t make a change on a global scale, and neither it did on a local one as I didn’t succeed in seducing the girl I was trying to impress with my radicalism at the time).

(Way) more people should read this book. Sadly (way) more people won’t.

The Day of the Jackal – Frederick Forsyth

 

There is nothing wrong with indulging every once in a while. I’m not going to claim that Forsyth’s book was the best I’ve ever read – but it made a damn fine read.

It stands to great literature like Die Hard stands to great cinema: it doesn’t, but I think most people who have read The Day of the Jackal have to consider it one of their great guilty pleasures. One can’t say that reading about the Jackal’s preparations, his ruthlessness that is so bad it’s – actually – quite funny, his professionalism that reminds one of a second-rate mafia movie, s/he doesn’t come to wish that his mission can be accomplished.

After all, who ever liked Charles De Gaulle? I mean, other than millions of French people. Maybe not killed, but it would be nice to see him at least wounded. Kind of like seeing Wile E. Coyote at least getting a bite of Road Runner.