What are you reading now?

[Cockney Sparrow]

... most of the paperbacks I acquired as an undergraduate in the early 1970s have perished - the so-called 'perfect' bindings perish, the non-acid-free paper disintegrates. Fortunately for most of the texts that mattered I then obtained more durable hardback copies .

......Penguin New Shakespeare copy is falling apart from a cracked spine. Does anyone else have this problem with old Penguins?

I think the paper in New Arden editions have a longer life, generally. Some no doubt think it sacrilege, but early on I adopted the practice of bending the pages back every 5 or 6 leaves when I acquire them - judging how far to go. The glue in the binding becomes brittle over an extended period, but if the crease has been made earlier, there is a fair chance that with care the pages will remain attached.

(Like others here - it seems - I buy books to be used. Mostly, in a rather functional way, myself. The exceptions for me are art books - but then, they are usually hardbacks, or at least have some sown binding in them).

[AuntDaisy]

... ah, but Madeleine appears about page 43 and disappears about page 45. I wanted something that hangs around a bit longer.

And I'm not sure I'm as sweet (or memorable... ) as Madeleine

I'm sure you are; esp. looking like Meléndez. (... and I stumbled upon Angle, an old friend).

[teamsaint]

... most of the paperbacks I acquired as an undergraduate in the early 1970s have perished - the so-called 'perfect' bindings perish, the non-acid-free paper disintegrates. Fortunately for most of the texts that mattered I then obtained more durable hardback copies
.

The production values on their books quality is poor, and has been for a very long time. But they can get away with it.

[vinteuil]

Does anyone else have this problem with old Penguins?

... most of the paperbacks I acquired as an undergraduate in the early 1970s have perished - the so-called 'perfect' bindings perish, the non-acid-free paper disintegrates. Fortunately for most of the texts that mattered I then obtained more durable hardback copies
.

[smittims]

I once thought of writing an abstract novel, as one writes an abstract piece of music, a novel thst doesn't have to be about people, but (not surprisingly) I couldn't get started. It seems novels have to be about people, or anthopomorphed animals .

I'm re-reading Hamlet , as I couldn't remember when I last read it , as opposed to 'saw it'. My forty-year-old Penguin New Shakespeare copy is falling apart from a cracked spine. Does anyone else have this problem with old Penguins?

[vinteuil]

Madeleine? (R3 have your cake and eat it?)

... ah, but Madeleine appears about page 43 and disappears about page 45. I wanted something that hangs around a bit longer.

And I'm not sure I'm as sweet (or memorable... ) as Madeleine



.

[LMcD]

Currently reading 'Perfect' by Rachel Joyce. Next up is Susan Hill's 'The Magic Apple Tree', brought to my attention at a recent Autumn-themed words and music event.
It didn't take me long, while at university, to realize that I was out of my depth as far as most of the set texts were concerned, and nothing that's happened since has led me to re-visit, let alone challenge, that realization.

[AuntDaisy]

...
(I don't know why I chose poor Vinteuil as my nom de guerre. Probably bicoz for me Radio 3 shd be about music. But really I might've been more appropriately served by Professeur Cottard, Legrandin, the marquis de Norpois... )

Madeleine? (R3 have your cake and eat it?)

[vinteuil]

What I enjoyed about Proust was his style. Having read a page or paragraph which I found particularly pleasing, I would stop and read it again, and possibly again, rather like a poem. Story and plot (and more particularly action <shudder>) are not as absorbing to me.

... yes to the style ; and you certainly don't go immediately to Proust if it's action or even plot that you're looking for. I go back to Proust again and again for his insights (not all of them welcome... ) in to human nature. I first read him when I was in my early twenties, and in some ways an innocent : I enjoyed it, but at that age had only encountered "in real life" some of the characteristics and behaviours he depicts - over the last fifty years I have re-read it many times and am able to say again and again - "but that's just like X!" - "Y reacts just like that when... " - "o how I recognize that feeling!". He was only 51 when he died : his depictions of the old are a wonder for someone who died so young. And, obviously, his observations and reflections on the workings of memory...

(I don't know why I chose poor Vinteuil as my nom de guerre. Probably bicoz for me Radio 3 shd be about music. But really I might've been more appropriately served by Professeur Cottard, Legrandin, the marquis de Norpois... )






.

[french frank]

But this has a lot in common with an appreciation of music and particular composers, or maybe creative art in general. It's what the individual looks for in a work and whether they find it. What I enjoyed about Proust was his style. Having read a page or paragraph which I found particularly pleasing, I would stop and read it again, and possibly again, rather like a poem. Story and plot (and more particularly action <shudder>) are not as absorbing to me.

(I believe I have mentioned here my own attempt at a novel which had no characters and no story, the challenge being to suggest a real narrative by means of description alone - the evolution of the natural world. I had to admit failure as the technique became more and more convoluted and strained, but I found the idea interesting.)

[smittims]

Conveying a great deal in a few words is an attribute of a good historian, I think , such as Steven Runciman or GM Trevelyan. I'm not sure it's an attribute of a good novelist. One could take it to extreme and just publish a plot summary; or, as Benny Green said of the famous opening sentence of Anna Karenina 'that's it; you don't need to read the rest of the book. He's blown it'.

. I like to enjoy a novel and live in the scene and atmosphere the writer creates. and get to know the characters. I disagreed with the introduction to a Walter Scott novel which recomended the first-time reader to skip the first three chapters and get on with the story. I think to appreciate Scott (and Thackeray and Trollope too) one needs to give them time , and pay attention to what seems a preamble. Maybe it's an aspect of our 'instant-gratification' society that it's considered praise to say one can read a novel in a short time .

[Ian Thumwood]

My issue with Proust was gradual. I liked the detail with which he described minutiae in infinite detail
but I started to grate after a while as the story moved at a glacial pace. When the story of Swann materialised in the second half, I found it annoying that he had feelings for a courtesan who did not reciprocate and humiliated him. The total lack of pragmatism was irritating .

if you want it summarised succinctly, the language may have been beautiful but it became pointless as the story was so slight. I have no problem with this kind of writing but have a problem with a book where nothing happens. It was just writing for the sake of it. Alain Fournier's was no less beautiful and he was capable of writing a much more involving story.

I will throw another hand grenade in..... I wonder if anyone here had thoughts about writers who chose to use a more economic style of prose ? I quite admire this too. I e. Using a few words as possible to get your point across. I ask this as an alternative to Proust but also because I have seen a popular writer praised for this. It intrigued me because the author in question is one I feel to be very inconsistent yet nearly all his work has either been made into films or inspired them. Some of his earlier books are, in my opinion, worthy of praise for their succinct style whereas I feel he reached a point where he was so fed up with his fictional creation that he tried to destroy him with a book which would have never been published if it was not for the success of hid earlier efforts. Ultimately, the film version had a new screenplay by Roald Dahl which transformed it into the best film in the series. His style was the polar opposite of Proust yet I would argue the first books stand up to scrutiny and have been praised by revisionist critics even though they are nearly 70 years old in some instances.

I don't think you need lashings of sex and violence for a good read and suppose my tastes sit between the extremes of Proust and Frederick Forsyth. I prefer books that are well written but want to be entertained too. I am glad I tried Proust and can now offer an opinion. I am not a fan and did not find any wit within the first volume albeit I could in Balzac and also think British writers across many generations can be much wittier.

[Ian Thumwood]

My issue with Proust was gradual. I liked the detail with which he described minutiae in infinite detail
but I started to grate after a while as the story moved at a glacial pace. When the story of Swann materialised in the second half, I found it annoying that he had feelings for a courtesan who did not reciprocate and humiliated him. The total lack of pragmatism was irritating .

if you want it summarised succinctly, the language may have been beautiful but it became pointless as the story was so slight. I have no problem with this kind of writing but have a problem with a book where nothing happens. It was just writing for the sake of it. Alain Fournier's was no less beautiful and he was capable of writing a much more involving story.

I will throw another hand grenade in..... I wonder if anyone here had thoughts about writers who chose to use a more economic style of prose ? I quite admire this too. I e. Using a few words as possible to get your point across. I ask this as an alternative to Proust but also because I have seen a popular writer praised for this. It intrigued me because the author in question is one I feel to be very inconsistent yet nearly all his work has either been made into films or inspired them. Some of his earlier books are, in my opinion, worthy of praise for their succinct style whereas I feel he reached a point where he was so fed up with his fictional creation that he tried to destroy him with a book which would have never been published if it was not for the success of hid earlier efforts. Ultimately, the film version had a new screenplay by Roald Dahl which transformed it into the best film in the series. His style was the polar opposite of Proust yet I would argue the first books stand up to scrutiny and have been praised by revisionist critics even though they are nearly 70 years old in some instances.

I don't think you need lashings of sex and violence for a good read and suppose my tastes sit between the extremes of Proust and Frederick Forsyth. I prefer books that are well written but want to be entertained too. I am glad I tried Proust and can now offer an opinion. I am not a fan and did not find any wit within the first volume albeit I could in Balzac and also think British writers across many generations can be much wittier.

[vinteuil]

On Difficulty (no, not the George Steiner essays) -

"It is hardly an exaggeration to say that One of Our Conquerors is the most difficult novel in English to read, given that Finnegans Wake remains an inevitable exception... " " ... with Meredith as with Joyce, the initial problem for a reader is the apparent recalcitrance of the words in yielding a meaning. It is folly to pretend that such difficulties do not exist. Meredith is notoriously the writer of a clotted, tortuous prose: ellipsis, whether in style or structure, is congenital to him, and of One of Our Conquerors he actually boasted that it provides "a strong dose of the most indigestible material." "

That opening sentence of the introduction, plus the fact that the book in the second-hand shop was going for £2-75, was enough to get me salivating... Have you tried it? Here are the opening paras to give a taste -

CHAPTER I
ACROSS LONDON BRIDGE

A gentleman, noteworthy for a lively countenance and a waistcoat to match it, crossing London Bridge at noon on a gusty April day, was almost magically detached from his conflict with the gale by some sly strip of slipperiness, abounding in that conduit of the markets, which had more or less adroitly performed the trick upon preceding passengers, and now laid this one flat amid the shuffle of feet, peaceful for the moment as the uncomplaining who have gone to Sabrina beneath the tides. He was unhurt, quite sound, merely astonished, he remarked, in reply to the inquiries of the first kind helper at his elbow; and it appeared an acceptable statement of his condition. He laughed, shook his coat-tails, smoothed the back of his head rather thoughtfully, thankfully received his runaway hat, nodded bright beams to right and left, and making light of the muddy stigmas imprinted by the pavement, he scattered another shower of his nods and smiles around, to signify, that as his good friends would wish, he thoroughly felt his legs and could walk unaided. And he was in the act of doing it, questioning his familiar behind the waistcoat amazedly, to tell him how such a misadventure could have occurred to him of all men, when a glance below his chin discomposed his outward face. ’Oh, confound the fellow!’ he said, with simple frankness, and was humorously ruffled, having seen absurd blots of smutty knuckles distributed over the maiden waistcoat.

His outcry was no more than the confidential communication of a genial spirit with that distinctive article of his attire. At the same time, for these friendly people about him to share the fun of the annoyance, he looked hastily brightly back, seeming with the contraction of his brows to frown, on the little band of observant Samaritans; in the centre of whom a man who knew himself honourably unclean, perhaps consequently a bit of a political jewel, hearing one of their number confounded for his pains, and by the wearer of a superfine dashing-white waistcoat, was moved to take notice of the total deficiency of gratitude in this kind of gentleman’s look and pocket. If we ask for nothing for helping gentlemen to stand upright on their legs, and get it, we expect civility into the bargain. Moreover, there are reasons in nature why we choose to give sign of a particular surliness when our wealthy superiors would have us think their condescending grins are cordials."

Spoiler alert : in this case it's not worth it. Unlike Proust, late Henry James, or a personal favourite, Wilhelm Raabe's Stopfkuchen (Tubby Schaumann), where one is often exasperated - "Oh come on Henry - spit it out!" - (as HG Wells cruelly described late 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.") - with these masters the effort is gloriously repaid. I don't think this is so with Meredith

.

[richardfinegold]

... but is 'difficult' bad?

.

There are degrees. Having not slogged hard enough into Proust to have made enough headway to get any appreciation I am not able to sufficiently comment. After 15 pages of what seemed like one paragraph of a guy ruminating from his bed I bailed. I guess I’m a Philistine.
Faulkner Sound and Fury is a difficult trek for the first quarter of the book, which gradually reveals itself to the patient reader. Perhaps Proust is similar, but after attempting twice through the years, I’ve given up