MALAPARTE: A Biography by Maurizio Serra

 

MALAPARTE: A Biography by Maurizio Serra

Book Review: "Lion" by Sonya Walger (NYRB)

 

Book Review: "Lion" by Sonya Walger

The Parisian 19th Century Blues

 

The Parisian 19th Century Blues by Tosh Berman

Ariane: A Russian Girl by Claude Anet (NYRB)

 

Ariane: A Russian Girl" by Claude Anet (NYRB)

Tosh on Jean Genet's "The Criminal Child" (NYRB)

 

Tosh on Jean Genet's "The Criminal Child"

Tosh on "Monsieur Proust" by Céleste Albaret (NYRB)

 

Tosh on "Monsieur Proust" by Céleste Albaret

Tosh Berman on "Affinities: On Art and Fascination" by Brian Dillon (NYRB, 2023)

 

Tosh on "Affinities: On Art and Fascination" by Brian Dillon

Tosh Berman on Robert Bresson

 

Tosh Berman on Robert Bresson

Tosh Berman on the novel "Black Wings Has My Angel" by Elliott Chaze (NYRB)

 

Tosh Berman on the Novel "Black Wings Has My Angel"

Tosh Berman on "In Love" by Alfred Hayes (NYRB)

 

"In Love" by Alfred Hayes (NYRB)

Tosh Berman on David Shields's "The Very Last Interview"

 

Tosh Berman on David Shields's "The Very Last Interview"

THE N'GUSTRO AFFAIR by Jean-Patrick Manchette

 

THE N'GUSTRO AFFAIR by Jean-Patrick Manchette; Translated by Donald Nicholson-Smith and Introduction by Gary Indiana (NYRB)

Crime fiction writing deals with space between the image and the words and the talent to enter and leave as quickly as possible. The French author Jean-Patrick Manchette seems to be in the position of being an excellent writer, and the ability to express action, not only in a physical sense but also in its intelligence. There are certain writers one can learn from, and Manchette and Richard Stark are both writers who know how to move the narration at a speed where one turns the page after another because one may know how it ends but love the journey to getting there. 

The N'GUSTRO Affair is based on the kidnapping and killing of Mehdi Ben Barka of Morocco. Still, Manchette turns the novel focusing on Henri Butron, a psychopath thug thrown into a world that he doesn't understand and just a puppet among the others who are pulling and controlling the strings. A tight and beautifully put-together novel, which again reminds me of the mechanics of the  Parker series by Richard Stark. Not a wasted word, and therefore every thought expressed, although in a minimalist manner of stark perfection. 

"Marshlands" by André Gide; Preface by Dubravka Ugresic and Translated from French to English by Damion Searls

 

Marshlands

by André Gide

NYRB, 978-1-68137-472-7

"Marshlands" is the best book I read regarding being a writer and writing a book. Beyond that, I love the stylish touch of having the French translated into British English, which reads like a PG Wodehouse narrative. The story is about a writer who is writing a book ("Marshlands") about a reclusive fellow who lives in a stone tower by himself. Usually, one thinks of a writer as writing themselves into their narratives. Still, the author is nothing like his character named Tityrus. In fact, his life is totally the opposite of being a recluse and more of a fellow traveler in the world of literary salons.  Based on Stéphane Mallarme's series of literary parties, the (grand) author André Gide makes light of these gatherings, but with a British effect due to the translation by Damion Searls, who captures the absurdity of artists not only at work but also at play. "Marshlands" plays with the reader's approach of what a novel or novella is, and Gide was in a puckish mood when he wrote this small masterpiece. The dialogue is very campy and artificial. I think Searls did the right thing for English readers by giving it an upper-British accented language. 

I believe this is Gide's second novel, and this small volume captures the essence of a writing life, which is also a social one. I think that a writer should never talk about his current project due to what happens to the author in the story. Even before having a manuscript, his fellow authors are commenting on the literary worth of "Marshlands," as well as what they heard through the grapevine. And what he's hearing ain't good!

"Marshlands" captures the essence of what we think of an author and how they feel about their work. There are books or writing that appeal to my highly humorous sensibility and expose the absurdity of everyday life. Robert Benchley comes to mind, as well as novels by Albert Cossery. I only know Gide's journals, and of course, his reputation in the French literary world. I suspect that "Marshlands" is his funniest book, and I will treasure it among all the great humorists in my library. 

"Suppose A Sentence" by Brian Dillon (NYRB)

 

ISBN: 978-1-68137-524-3

It is always a pleasure to dwell in the words and world of Brian Dillon. "Suppose a Sentence" is a collection of literary essays, where the foundation is the sentence. Twenty-eight essays plus introduction focus at first a specific sentence by an author but then using that as a projection into that writer's style, structure, and sensibility. In many ways, this collection is a very straight forward literary inquiry into the author's work. It's not really about the sentence itself, or structure of writing, but how the beauty and form of writing take place in a reader's or critic's mind. 

Most of the authors/writers are well known here: Roland Barthes, Anne Carson, Thomas De Quincey (an author that comes up a lot in this book), Charlotte Brontë, George Elliot, Beckett, Virginia Woolf, and others. Pretty much the Western Literature world, but with some new figures such as the Korean-American Theresa Hak Kyung Cha and Jazz critic Whitney Balliett. I don't know the names like those two, but I want to read their works due to Dillon's take on their work. 

I love literature, and I too think of sentences that make me go-go almost the same manner as listening to exciting music. Dillon captures these moments in these brief but thoughtful series of essays. 

"Diary of A Foreigner in Paris" by Curzio Malaparte (NYRB)

This journal/diary is worth the reading for the purpose of Curzio Malaparte's habit of howling with the dogs in the middle of the night.  Malaparte had the talent to be in the right place with the correct people.  For one, he's a remarkable prose stylist.  And two, his observations of people around him are descriptive like a fine meal.  His comment on Camus is of great interest.  Camus had a dislike for Malaparte, what I suspect is due that he was once (or still?) a Fascist. Malaparte is sort of a Tom Ripley character who switches sides like one changes their overcoat.  His very nature and position in culture are one of a big question, but also such a fascinating character. 

May 3, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

May 3, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

Between reading music-related books for the Book Musik podcast, I have been reading for the past week a memoir by Salka Viertel, "The Kindness of Strangers" (NYRB).  Viertel lived in exciting times.  Born in 1889 and died in 1978, her landscape was Berlin/Austria, and then a move to Hollywood with her three kids, due that her husband, Berthold Viertel, got a job writing for F.W. Murnau, a friend from the old country.  I'm on page 138, and they just moved to Santa Monica, the exact address is 165 Mabery Road.  Not far from the Pacific Ocean.  Salka was a theater actress in Europe during the height of World War 1.  So far, a fascinating document, and now she's in classic Hollywood.

Last night, as I was preparing for sleepy time, which means brushing the teeth, washing the face, and make sure I didn't break the wine bottle nor glass, I heard a voice through a speaker or horn outside. I looked outside my window, and I saw a police helicopter going around and around with a spotlight at a specific area in my neighborhood.  Not on my street, but perhaps on Glendale Boulevard. The voice came from the helicopter, and I think they were saying 'go home' or 'leave now.'  I checked out the NextDoor app that I recently put on my phone, mostly due to crime in the neighborhood issues.   There was a party on Ivan Hill Terrace at a rented air BnB where 100 people or so showed up.

As you know, this is the middle of the Trump Virus, so why are people partying?  And in such high numbers?   I'm going to have to presume that I will stay at my house for at least an extra month or so.  There seems to be resistance to be told to stay home. As I mentioned yesterday, Americans hate to be told to do anything. They are the type of people who climb up on public monuments in other countries. On one level, they're goofy, but when you think about it, why do they exist on this planet?

I started to read the latest issue of Artforum Magazine.  Depending on my mood, I either hate the publication or have a deep passion for it.  The April issue has an excellent article on Beardsley, which is unusual for Artforum.  I have been subscribing to this magazine for at least three years, and I seem to read every third issue as it comes to my house.  When you subscribe to a publication or journal, it feels like homework to read the damn magazine.  It's a mental state on my part, and I'm trying to look at this particular world in a much lighter and pleasurable manner.

- Tosh Berman

Tosh's Favorite Reads (Books) for 2019

Tosh’s top Books in 2019:

“Typewriters, Bombs, Jellyfish: Essays” by Tom McCarthy (NYRB)

“Rebel Rebel” & “Ashes to Ashes” by Chris O’Leary

“Head-to-Toe Portrait of Suzanne” by Roland Topor (Atlas Press)

“Death Valley Superstars: Occasionally Fatal Adventures in Filmland” by Duke Haney

“The Alley of Fireflies and Other Stories” by Raymond Roussel (Song Cave)

“The Orchid Stories” by Kenward Elmslie (Song Cave)

“Curl” by T.O.Bobe (Wakefield Press)

“Mac’s Problem” by Enrique Vila-Matas (New Directions)

“Another Ventriloquist” by Adam Penn Gilders (J &L Books)

“When I Was a Wolf: Outlaw Takes on Fables and Fairy Tales” by Shuji Terayama (Kurodahan Press)

“The Artificial Silk Girl” by Irmgard Deun (Penguin Classics)

“The Sundays of Jean Dézert” by Jean de La Ville de Mirmont (Wakefield Press)

“In Black and White” by Junichiro Tanizaki (Columbia University Press)

“Ennio Morricone: In His Own Words” by Morricone and Alessandro De Rosa (Oxford University Press)

“Year of the Monkey” by Patti Smith (Knopf)

“Nada” by Jean-Patrick Manchette (NYRB)

“I’ve Seen the Future and I’m Not Going: The Art Scene and Downtown New York in the 1980s” by Peter McGough (Pantheon Books)

“Intelligence for Dummies: Essays and Other Collected Writings” by Glenn O’Brien (ZE Books)

“Life for Sale” by Yukio Mishima (Penguin Classics) 

“The Man Without Talent” by Yoshiharu Tsuge (NYRB)

“Punk Rock is Cool for the End of the World” by Ed Smith (Turtlepoint Press)

“Essays:One” by Lydia Davis

"The Criminal Child:Selected Essays" by Jean Genet (NYRB)iI

ISBN: 978-68137-361-4

Those who write and look up to other writers (as a writer should, by the way), I have to imagine Jean Genet is very much 'it.'  As a teenager and a young man in his twenties, I greatly admired Yukio Mishima and Genet.  In no fashion was I going to idolize Robert Benchley (that happened in my 50s) or any writer that appeared on the New York Times Bestseller List.   Genet is a criminal.  And a proud criminal on top of that.   In our world now, criminal writers are looked down upon.  As you gather, a writer has to be, at the very least, a morally upstanding citizen.  Genet is bad-ass.  But a bad-ass that can write about his world in such delicious language.  One of the great presses in the English language is the New York Review of Books (NYRB), and their edition of Genet's "The Criminal Child: Selected Essays is a small and remarkable book.  The title piece is regarding the nature of the French reform-school system, and how much Genet preferred the kiddie-prison of his youth.  Also, his essays/commentary on the visual art of Alberto Giacometti and Leonor Fini is superb. Genet can connect to an artist like a hand attached to an arm.  

"Late Fame" by Arthur Schnitzler / Translated by Alexander Starritt (NYRB)

ISBN: 978-1-68137-084-2

There are writers out there who make me feel that I'm wearing a bullseye sweatshirt, and through their writing/work, they make a direct hit on the bullseye.  The great Austrian author and playwright Arthur Schnitzler is one of the writers that get to me on a personal level on a consistent basis through his narratives.  Like Patricia Highsmith, Schnitzler had the ability to get in one's skin, and once placed there, you can't remove the rash.  Not saying he's like a disease, but more of a writer who can look at a system or a social group and understand their dynamics.  In that sense, he also reminds me of Fassbinder the filmmaker.  Still "Late Fame" is a very funny book on a serious subject matter of regret and how one is accepted into a social world. 

The main character is Eduard Saxberger, an office worker, who one time in his youth, wrote a book of poems "Wanderings" that was published and equally forgotten. Decades later, he eventually meets a young poet/writer who is a fan of this one book and invited Saxberger to be part of his (or their) literary group.  So, after an old man who once was a (failed) poet, has another chance into a literary world, seems promising, but alas, life has its many disappointments. 

Both a satire on literary groups in Vienna, as well as how one sees themselves as time goes marching by.  It's very much an older man's piece of literature, and now that I have reached a certain age, I really identify with some aspects of Saxberger's existence.  But don't we all?  

"Bresson on Bresson: Interviews 1943-1983" by Robert Bresson (New York Review of Books)

ISBN: 978-1-68137-044-6 nyrb

Once you see a film by Robert Bresson, you will never forget it.   It seems nothing is happening, but the truth is everything is happening.   The emotions are usually muted, and the actions of the models (not actors, will get to that later) are choreographed to a certain degree.  My first Bresson film was “Pickpocket, ” a story about a pickpocket artist who works his way in various train stations and public places, including buses/subways.  It’s nerve wracking watching close up of hands doing their magic, by appearing in stranger’s pockets, or in a woman’s bag or purse.  The film goes on a relaxing pace, but the intensity is severe.  It’s a strange mixture, where scenes are slowed down, to heighten the emotion of that scene.   Bresson didn’t make that many films in his long life, but each one is a remarkable work.  

“Bresson on Bresson: Interviews 1943-1983, chapter-by-chapter, cover each of his 13 films.  This is not something like the Hitchcock/Truffaut book, where each film is exposed by the second.   No, this basically a series of interviews with Bresson and his methods in working.  What’s unusual about him is that Bresson mostly used amateur actors in his productions.  He didn’t like actors, at least in his films.  A big concern for him is that cinematography (his term for the cinema) is a separate art from the theater - and he felt that the theater had too much of a presence in the cinema.  He comments that a painting (he was a painter) on a canvas is totally different from seeing a photograph of that painting - and therefore the acting profession comes from the theater - and that is not the right procedure for the cinema.   In his opinion most films are a reflection of the theater arts - and he feels that film is an art by itself.  An even greater art than theater.  It’s an interesting argument or position.   It is also what makes his films so unique to this very day.  

Bresson had a very rigid point of view with respect to art making - and the specifics of making cinema.  He preferred to use the term ‘model’ instead of actor - and he didn’t want anything theatrical coming of the model’s mouth or their gestures.  Also the same with the theory of not changing the lens on the movie camera, because in his thinking, people don’t change their glasses on a consistent basis.  So there must be a consistency of some sort.  Still, Bresson's films are overwhelming with feeling.   “Bresson on Bresson” is a classic book and anyone who even has the slightest interest in being a filmmaker or even artist - must read and learn.   An excellent companion piece to his book of writings “Notes on the Cinematograph. ”