What are you reading now?

[Ein Heldenleben]

... also the memorable meal earlier on when he lunches with Mme de Vionnet in a restaurant near Notre-Dame for mere pleasure’s sake :

"How could he wish it to be lucid for others, for any one, that he, for the hour, saw reasons enough in the mere way the bright clean ordered water-side life came in at the open window?—the mere way Madame de Vionnet, opposite him over their intensely white table-linen, their omelette aux tomates, their bottle of straw-coloured Chablis, thanked him for everything almost with the smile of a child, while her grey eyes moved in and out of their talk, back to the quarter of the warm spring air, in which early summer had already begun to throb, and then back again to his face and their human questions."

SPOILER
Yes - wonderful.
Why doesn’t Strether read the signals with M de V ? Why doesn’t he accept Maria ?
Have ever wanted to be in any scene more than that meal with the veal cutlet? The way James transmutes the Lambinet painting into the idealised vision of the village.
and then the kicker …
It’s masterly.

[vinteuil]

There’s one chapter near the end of The Ambassadors where the “hero” goes to a small restaurant near a river in the French countryside which I think is one of the finest in all European fiction. I envy you reading it for the first time.
”Live all you can - it’s a mistake not to.”

... also the memorable meal earlier on when he lunches with Mme de Vionnet in a restaurant near Notre-Dame for mere pleasure’s sake :

"How could he wish it to be lucid for others, for any one, that he, for the hour, saw reasons enough in the mere way the bright clean ordered water-side life came in at the open window?—the mere way Madame de Vionnet, opposite him over their intensely white table-linen, their omelette aux tomates, their bottle of straw-coloured Chablis, thanked him for everything almost with the smile of a child, while her grey eyes moved in and out of their talk, back to the quarter of the warm spring air, in which early summer had already begun to throb, and then back again to his face and their human questions."

[Ein Heldenleben]

Just downloaded The Ambassadors to my Kindle. Almost immediately derailed by this passage from the Preface:

"I could even remember no occasion on which, so confronted, I had found it of a livelier interest to take stock, in this fashion, of suggested wealth. For I think, verily, that there are degrees of merit in subjects—in spite of the fact that to treat even one of the most ambiguous with due decency we must for the time, for the feverish and prejudiced hour, at least figure its merit and its dignity as possibly absolute. What it comes to, doubtless, is that even among the supremely good—since with such alone is it one’s theory of one’s honour to be concerned—there is an ideal beauty of goodness the invoked action of which is to raise the artistic faith to its maximum."

Only another 500 pages to go.

If you think The Ambassadors is tricky then The Wings Of The Dove is more so, and the Golden Bowl is in places impenetrable. It sounds like I’m bragging but I’ve read all of them at least 4 times and there are still passages where I can’t work out what on earth HJ is going on about. There is a serious school of critical thought that he was partly senile when writing some of these . He dictated some of them and I’m pretty sure at the end of some sentences he wasn’t sure how he’d started. I wouldn’t read the Prefaces - it’s all part of his elliptical game with the reader.
There’s one chapter near the end of The Ambassadors where the “hero” goes to a small restaurant near a river in the French countryside which I think is one of the finest in all European fiction. I envy you reading it for the first time.
”Live all you can - it’s a mistake not to.”

[johncorrigan]

Is that the same book as Every Man Dies Alone? It was retitled when the movie was made

Same book, Richard. I didn't know that. I will have a look for the film. One of the strange things about this most interesting and enjoyable book is that the chapter titles often give you an idea of what is about to happen in the chapter...like telling you a character is about to die, or be arrested or the like. I really enjoyed this. It also has an afterword telling the story of the author's troubled life, and the story of the case which inspired the novel.

[CallMePaul]

Akhenaten - Egypt's False Prophet - by Nicholas Reeves. Published in 2001, so before the DNA work on 18th Dynasty pharoahs which has changed some of his views, but still an enjoyable read that has taught me things I was previously unaware of.

Intriguing is a passing reference to one Aper-el, a foreign-born vizier of lower Egypt in the reigns of Amenophis III and Akhenaten. Could a memory of this be a basis for the story of Joseph in Genesis, which was written centuries later? I need to investigate this further.

[french frank]

Is that the same book as Every Man Dies Alone? It was retitled when the movie was made

Yes, it is. Jeder stirbt für sich allein is more accurately rendered as Every Man Dies Alone.

[smittims]

Even if Edith did invent the whole thing (which I suspect), its a lovely story. Thanks.

[smittims]

I've just finished re-reading Henry the Sixth part one. I think Shakespeare's earlier plays are underrated . Even this one, which is full of battle scenes, is more about speaking verse than realism, a point missed by the BBC's Hollow Crown screening where they cut the text and turned it into a Hollywood action thriller . I prefer to imagine it stylised, ritual almost. At one point there are three different armies on stage; trying to make that look realistic would be absurd.

[vinteuil]

doesn't he rather make mountains out of molehills?

As HG Wells described Henry James - "It is leviathan retrieving pebbles. It is a magnificent but painful hippopotamus resolved at any cost, even at the cost of its dignity, upon picking up a pea which has got into a corner of its den."
Grotesquely unfair, but one knows what he means.

I love the Edith Wharton anecdote -
"Another year we had been motoring in the West Country, and on the way back were to spend a night at Malvern. As we approached (at the close of a dark rainy afternoon) I saw James growing restless, and was not surprised to hear him say: ' My dear, I once spent a summer at Malvern and know it very well; and as it is rather difficult to find the way to the hotel, it might be well if Edward were to change places with me and let me sit beside Cook.' My husband of course acceded (though with doubts in his heart) and, James having taken his place, we awaited the result. Malvern, if I am not mistaken, is encircled by a sort of upper boulevard, of the kind called in Italy a strada di circonvallazione, and for an hour we circled about above the outspread city while James vainly tried to remember which particular street led down most directly to our hotel. At each corner (literally) he stopped the motor, and we heard a muttering, first confident and then anguished. 'This — this, my dear Cook, yes . . . this certainly is the right corner. But no; stay! A moment longer, please — in this light it's so difficult . . . appearances are so misleading ... It may be . . . yes! I think it is the next turn . . . a little farther lend thy guiding hand ... that is, drive on; but slowly, please, my dear Cook; very slowly!' And at the next corner the same agitated monologue would be repeated; till at length Cook, the mildest of men, interrupted gently: ' I guess any turn'll get us down into the town, Mr. James, and after that I can ask' — and late, hungry and exhausted we arrived at length at our destination, James still convinced that the next turn would have been the right one if only we had been more patient.

The most absurd of these episodes occurred on another rainy evening when James and I chanced to arrive at Windsor long after dark. We must have been driven by a strange chauffeur — perhaps Cook was on holiday; at any rate, having fallen into the lazy habit of trusting him to know the way, I found myself at a loss to direct his substitute to the King's Road. While I was hesitating and peering out into the darkness James spied an ancient doddering man who had stopped in the rain to gaze at us. 'Wait a moment, my dear — I'll ask him where we are'; and leaning out he signalled to the spectator.
'My good man, if you'll be good enough to come here, please; a little nearer — so,' and as the old man came up: 'My friend, to put it to you in two words, this lady and I have just arrived here from Slough; that is to say, to be more strictly accurate, we have recently passed through Slough on our way here, having actually motored to Windsor from Rye, which was our point of departure; and the darkness having overtaken us, we should be much obliged if you would tell us where we now are in relation, say, to the High Street, which, as you of course know, leads to the Castle, after leaving on the left hand the turn down to the railway station.'
I was not surprised to have this extraordinary appeal met by silence, and a dazed expression on the old wrinkled face at the window; nor to have James go on: 'In short' (his invariable prelude to a fresh series of explanatory ramifications), 'in short, my good man, what I want to put to you in a word is this: supposing we have already (as I have reason to think we have) driven past the turn down to the railway station (which in that case, by the way, would probably not have been on our left hand, but on our right) where are we now in relation to . . . '
'Oh, please,' I interrupted, feeling myself utterly unable to sit through another parenthesis, 'do ask him where the King's Road is.''Ah —? The King's Road? Just so! Quite right! Can you, as a matter of fact, my good man, tell us where, in relation to our present position, the King's Road exactly is?'
'Ye're in it', said the aged face at the window."

[Sir Velo]

To my credit, I was not defeated. I went back to early James (The American, The Europeans - easy peasy), and read most of the stuff chronologically from there on - and by the time I reached the last three - well, not easy peasy, but so well worth it .

I can't help thinking of T.S. Eliot's objective correlative when considering James. Beautifully written, yes. Scrupulously observed, undoubtedly. Of course, the past is another country - we all know that, autres temps autres moeurs etc but doesn't he rather make mountains out of molehills? Nevertheless, I will follow your example and persevere (for the present)!

[richardfinegold]

Though I'm a fan of Ian McEwan - I think Atonement is a masterpiece - I haven't read all his novels. I was given a copy of Lessons for a recent birthday, and found myself devouring it over a weekend. It takes the life span of a man as its basis, but pulls in other plot lines about, for example, the reunification of Germany, music and musical careers, and what it means to have been abused as a child. I recommend it.

I posted on this a few weeks back. # 3392 It is more kaladescopic with all the diverse themes than his usual work

[richardfinegold]

I didn't get in to Henry James until I was in my late thirties, and was in a similar way 'almost immediately derailed'. I knew he was 'important', and in my arrogant way thought, well, I'll plunge straight in to the 'late, difficult' works. What could possibly go wrong - blessed with a good brain, an expensive (state funded... ) eddication, an Eng Lit degree from a serious university... So I started The Ambassadors. Skipping the Preface, into chap 1 - and totally defeated after a few pages. What the f*** was going on? What did the sentences even mean???

To my credit, I was not defeated. I went back to early James (The American, The Europeans - easy peasy), and read most of the stuff chronologically from there on - and by the time I reached the last three - well, not easy peasy, but so well worth it...

.

I am reading Portrait of A Lady currently. I preferred The Ambassadors to the Bostonians

[richardfinegold]

I picked up 'Alone in Berlin' by Hans Fallada in a local chazza last week. I had never heard of it or heard of him before. I was attracted by the front cover, though initially put off by the 600 pages. It starts in Berlin in 1940, a city paralysed by fear and suspicion. Based on a true story, an old couple embark on an act of resistance in the city. The book also gives a picture of how various characters survive under this regime, the small minded dignitaries, the ambitious thugs, the blackmailers on the make. It has been sucking me in to a world I hadn't inhabited before

Is that the same book as Every Man Dies Alone? It was retitled when the movie was made

[vinteuil]

Just downloaded The Ambassadors to my Kindle. Almost immediately derailed....:

I didn't get in to Henry James until I was in my late thirties, and was in a similar way 'almost immediately derailed'. I knew he was 'important', and in my arrogant way thought, well, I'll plunge straight in to the 'late, difficult' works. What could possibly go wrong - blessed with a good brain, an expensive (state funded... ) eddication, an Eng Lit degree from a serious university... So I started The Ambassadors. Skipping the Preface, into chap 1 - and totally defeated after a few pages. What the f*** was going on? What did the sentences even mean???

To my credit, I was not defeated. I went back to early James (The American, The Europeans - easy peasy), and read most of the stuff chronologically from there on - and by the time I reached the last three - well, not easy peasy, but so well worth it*...

[ * not sure that The Sacred Fount is worth it, tho'... ]

.

[Sir Velo]

Just downloaded The Ambassadors to my Kindle. Almost immediately derailed by this passage from the Preface:

"I could even remember no occasion on which, so confronted, I had found it of a livelier interest to take stock, in this fashion, of suggested wealth. For I think, verily, that there are degrees of merit in subjects—in spite of the fact that to treat even one of the most ambiguous with due decency we must for the time, for the feverish and prejudiced hour, at least figure its merit and its dignity as possibly absolute. What it comes to, doubtless, is that even among the supremely good—since with such alone is it one’s theory of one’s honour to be concerned—there is an ideal beauty of goodness the invoked action of which is to raise the artistic faith to its maximum."

Only another 500 pages to go.