Un veijo que leía novelas de amor

Un viejo que leía novelas de amor (The Old Man Who Read Love Stories) by Luis Sepúlveda. Tusquets.

A short (137pp) story. It reminded me Cien años de soledad and especially El coronel no tiene quien le escriba, both books by Gabriel García Márquez that take place in isolated towns in South America plagued by corrupt local government. (Gabo turned 80 today, by the way). The last third also reminded me of The Old Man and the Sea.

As with all books in Tusquets’ “colección andanzas” line, the edition itself is a thing of physical beauty.

The Plot Against America

The Plot Against America by Philip Roth. Vintage.

The Plot Against America is a historical fiction novel set during the time leading up to and the first several years of the second World War. The twist is that, instead of being reelected in 1940, Roosevelt loses to Charles Lindbergh, an isolationist, and probably antisemetic.

It is narrated by Philip Roth himself as a boy of about nine, who (at least in the book) lived at that time in a Jewish neighborhood of Newark, New Jersey. (I don’t know much about Roth’s life, and as such don’t know what liberties he took. The book is in written in the first person, though, and the main character is named Philip Roth. So there.) With Lindbergh in power and antisemitism on the rise, the life of the Roth family, hitherto relatively stable if not especially prosperous, undergoes several profound changes.

My first impression, several pages in, was along the lines of “oh boy, here comes a massive apologia for Israel”. Not so - Israel isn’t even mentioned. Roth’s father, an admirable character, believed very much in America, which, as a secular democracy, was the right thing to believe in. For all the people trying to make it so, the US isn’t a country based on religion or race. Israel is, and that’s my root problem with it. It should be yours, too.

The style of writing is odd. Mostly it sounds like a nine year old’s writing, with simple language and simple ideas. It reminded me of “young adult” literature, stuff I read when I was about that age. But every now and then Roth breaks out these long sentences with words no nine year old would know. Which isn’t a bad thing, but a bit strange nonetheless.

Worth reading, as it helps explain some of the motivations of today’s Jews, a people who collectively have a serious, yet largely self-inflicted, PR problem, especially outside the US, yet isn’t too heavy-handed about it.

Fervor de Buenos Aires

Fervor de Buenos Aires by Jorge Luis Borges. Emecé.

A short (~80pp) book of poetry written early in Borges’ career, shortly after first returning to Argentina after having lived in Europe for several years.

I’ve sometimes said “I don’t believe in poetry”, half in jest. Really, I’m undecided as to whether poetry in general is good art or a waste of paper. Fervor did not alter my agnosticism towards metaphor and obliqueness.

Lo bello y lo triste

Lo bello y lo triste (title in Japanese: 美しさと哀しみと, title in English: Beauty and Sadness) by Yasunari Kawabata. Emecé. Translated by Nélida M. de Machain.

I bought Lo bello at a book fair in the Zócalo several months ago. I like Emecé’s format, and since they publish books by Borges, I figured it was worth a look to see what else they publish. Emecé did not let me down. (¿”¡Emecé PLV!”?) Interestingly, on the page that has the copyright notice, edition info, etc. (is there a name for that page? If so, what is it?), the title of the English translation is also given. I doubt the book was translated from Japanese to English to Spanish, but it’s possible.

The book itself is about an author of some fifty years, Oki, who goes to look up an old flame, Otoko, whom he does find. He also meets her protégée, Keiko, a character of some ambiguity. Lo bello y lo triste chronicles their adventures, past and present.

I’ve only read books (as an adult) by one other Japanese author, Haruki Murakami. I guess it’s inevitable, if a bit provincial, that I make comparisons between the two. (I found myself making similar comparisons between Italo Calvino and Umberto Eco, and I’ve only read one book by each, although both Foucault’s Pendulum and If on a winter’s night a traveller talk quite a lot about books qua books.) So, given a very small sample of Kawabata’s œuvre, here are some comparisons.

Kawabata is more descriptive than Murakami, and describes colors and sensations more vividly. On the other hand, Murakami’s books tend to get to the point, and seem more believable; they’re generally (always? I can’t remember now) written in the first person, and as such he doesn’t try to get inside the heads of all of his characters. He only needs to understand one of them. When Kawabata recounts conversations between two women, I have to wonder how realistic - and thus believable - they really are.

There are aspects to Lo bello that are recognizable in books by Murakami, particularly South of the Border, West of the Sun and Tokio Blues (Norwegian Wood) - which isn’t to say that I’d call Murakami derivative; he is anything but.

Some Japanese critics have apparently criticized Murakami for being too Westernized; I’m not aware of any such charge leveled against Kawabata. As such, and even if the language weren’t beautiful and the plot weren’t interesting, new insight into a very different culture is worth the admission price alone.

Recommended.

If on a winter's night a traveler

If on a winter’s night a traveler by Italo Calvino. Harvest Books. Translated by William Weaver.

A book about books, or is it about their readers? The protagonist - that’d be me (or would that be you? The book is written mostly in the second person) - starts reading a book only to find that not too far into it, due to an apparent publishing error, the action is suddenly cut off and replaced with a totally different book. He gets a new copy, and it’s yet another book, and one which is soon to be cut off as well! …And so on.

Recommended, although slightly frustrating as the book-within-the-book keeps rebooting itself, and none of the sub-stories has a proper resolution. Or an improper one. The prose is fluid, which compensates for the frustration of starting almost anew so many times: starting anew may be annoying, but at least it’s easy to do.

Hat tip to JB for lending me this book; maybe some day I’ll have a chance to return it to him.

Gravity's Rainbow

Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon. Penguin.

Gravity’s Rainbow has 100 to 150 enjoyable, contiguous pages. The rest of its 760 pages are boring, tedious, and full of nonsense: pseudopsychology and gratuitous drug use and sex. [*] It digresses, it makes your eyeballs itch, and it contains language that is deliberately hard to parse (or was it just never edited?). Finally, it doesn’t have any real point; the story qua story sucks, and there is no message.

It’s been described as unreadable. That’s not quite true, because I’ve basically read it (I skimmed towards the end). It is, however, not worth reading.

I admit that there were some cute moments here and there. Like ten or so. Out of more than six hundred pages of otherwise garbage.

Crap. As I said above, I skimmed the last 200 pages or so. That wasn’t fast enough. I should have just flipped them. I could still claim to have read it. And I would have, I suspect, read more than most self-professed Pynchon fans and the people who couldn’t finish it but were too ashamed - professionally or personally - to admit it.

[*] I am not against drug use or sex in books, or out of them, for that matter. But when they’re pointless they’re pointless. In Gravity’s Rainbow they usually are.

Update: Go read this comic. Read its tool tip. Point well made.

The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie. Picador.

The Satanic Verses is easily Rushdie’s most famous work. I found it to be of mixed quality. Some parts are really good, beautifully written and interesting to follow. Overall, the story is good, even if the ending left me rather unsatisfied.

But sometimes the poetic language and “novel” use of punctuation went too far, annoying me. Parts of the book - lots of the book - end up reading something close to Moleskine’s propaganda, the writing of pretentious kids dilettantes course takers. There is a fine line between art and annoyance. Rushdie crossed it too often.

But I can overlook all that. Because in the grand scheme of things, I’m totally on Rushdie’s side.

Are you familiar with the series of events that followed Verses’s publication? There are still barbarians in the late 20th and early 21st century.

Introducción a la literatura norteamericana

Introducción a la literatura norteamericana by Jorge Luis Borges. Emecé.

A review of Northamerican literature, up to 1970 or so. Borges mentions several authors that I haven’t read and probably should.

I wonder if this book was ever translated into English.

The book has lots of errors; many English words and placenames are misspelt. I like to think the errors are due to the editor or publisher, not Borges, who learned English in his childhood and presumably wouldn’t have made such mistakes. I made a list of all the errors I noticed, and plan to send Emecé mail. Pedantic mail.

The chapter on Native American literature seems a bit forced. Political correctness in Borges - who’d have guessed? But then again, I usually take a dim view towards poetry. And it’s not all political correctness; Borges calls the Indians los pieles rojas (redskins).

Not the greatest of Borges’ works by any stretch, but it was quite cheap at the Gandhi in Querétaro. And more Borges of course looks good on the bookshelf.

El libro de los seres imaginarios

El libro de los seres imaginarios, by Jorge Luis Borges. Emecé.

A list, in alphabetical order, of imaginary beings found in mythology and literature. One of the least practical books imaginable, and probably not comprehensive enough to serve as a real reference, but enjoyable.

ginger ale

On Sunday, Alma and I brewed a small batch of ginger ale. We roughly followed the directions at http://www.wikihow.com/Make-Ginger-Ale. We deviated from the recipe a little bit in using limes instead of lemons. Hey, we're in Mexico — what do you expect?

It finished brewing this morning (by our estimation). We let it refrigerate during the day, and just now opened and tried it. It was pretty good.

Next time, we'll probably use fewer limes, so it's less citrusy; more ginger; and more yeast, so it comes out fizzier.

Not bad at all for a first try!

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La memoria de Shakespeare

¿Alguna vez imaginaste tener un encuentro contigo mismo pero más viejo, dentro de un sueño y no saber quién está soñando a quien?, ¿qué pasaría si alguien te pudiera dar como herencia la memoria de Shakespeare? Borges lo relata en dos de las cuatro historias que conforman este pequeño librito.

Un exquisito platillo gourmet, tuve el placer de cenármelo anoche, qué deleite. No he encontrado mejor maestro del cuento que él, en serio. No sé qué me asombra más, los temas que aborda en sus historias, los diálogos que configura o su delicada capacidad de síntesis.

Una vez más entré a la cosmología borgeana, poblada de sueños y dualidades, qué gusto es enfundarme en su piel y mirar de otra forma este mundo. Los golpes de su inteligencia se reciben con gusto. No puedo mas que dar gracias por tanta belleza y cordura.

Museum Of Terror (Tomie 1)

I didn't know that I liked Japanese anime, particularly the genre of terror. Since the day I saw Ghost in the Shell, I knew that I had the potential to become a fan. A couple of weeks ago I was in Harvard Bookshop, in the used books section, where I found a lot of anime books at a good price. One was "Tomie". When I read the first dialog something said to me "this book is for you". The sentence was: "My friend Tomie is dead... pieces of her body were found scattered everywhere..."

I couldn't stop reading the nine stories. All were good, but the ones I liked most were "Photo" and "Painter", with its sarcastic humor.

I recommend Museum of Terror you. It's easy to read while on public transport, it's fun to read in reverse (as a comic book translated from the Japanese, its panels are viewed and read right to left, top to bottom), and it's excellent English practice because the characters speak colloquially.

I am very anxious to read more books like this. I don't know why I didn't buy more. If you have a book like this one, we can trade. ;)

About The Chronicles of Narnia

Finally I finished reading the first book of The Chronicles of Narnia, The Magician's Nephew, by C.S. Lewis. I spent a little more of a month reading it. Over the last month I didn't have much time to read, because I had a lot of work. In fact I read mostly while on my way to and from work. I had a good time reading it, and I laughed a lot.

I hadn't had the opportunity to read much fantasy, much less for kids. It was very fun because I felt like a child. Despite of Mike, who insisted in that I should have begun with the second book, I preferred to begin with the first, trusting in the publisher. He said that it wasn't the correct order -- the order that the author wrote the series -- and that I shouldn't know certain things before reading the other books. Now I really don´t know if I was right or not.

If one day I decide to finish the series maybe I'll have a different opinion.

I found some many Christian references in the story, but that is very common in stories for kids. However, I enjoyed my adventure with Polly and Diggory.

Ghost in the Shell

I imagine that Alma will be posting a review of Ghost in the Shell soon.

Siddhartha

Reconfortante, revitalizante, esperanzador... Algo que sí recomiendo para quienes sientan que a su alma hace falta alimento. No es alta literatura, tampoco es doctrina, nada de eso, el sentido es otro, seguir la senda de un viajero, sobre un camino muy extraño. A pesar de ser un relato corto, debo reconocer que hasta cierto punto me fastidió, ésto por el estravío que experimenta el personaje y el propio. Sin embargo, se trata del tipo de lectura que si se deja a medias es peor, por ello, me decidí llegar hasta el final, éste debía traer algo de claridad. ¡Y zás! el último capítulo me trajo el confort que tanto anhelaba Siddhartha y, por supuesto, tanto anhelaba yo. Y no, no se trata del típico final feliz, más bien es donde cae el veinte de haber hecho tremendo viajesote, donde la reflexión ilumina. Ese foquito que siempre, desde Platón, nos empeñamos en encender. Este pequeño librito, escrito por Hermann Hesse, es un recuento conciente que ayuda a reorganizar el bahúl donde guardamos las cosas importantes de la vida. Pero claro, puedo estar mintiendo, más "lo contrario de cada verdad es tan verdadero como la verdad misma". ¡Qué tal!

Mike's birthday

A few days ago it was the Mike's birthday. Here some photos of the party (Pictures)
Happy birthday Mike!
I wonder if someday I'll pronounce "happy birthday" correctly!

El maestro de go

El maestro de go no es un libro para leerse de una sentada, no.

Aunque se trate de un relato breve es mejor tomarse su tiempo, disfrutarlo sin presiones. Si es posible, abandonarlo un par de días y después retomarlo, volver a la partida del juego. Justamente, en este libro se narra, entre muchas cosas, una inusual partida de go, en donde se experimenta la tensión de estar frente al tablero. Como está cargado inumerables descripciones en torno al juego podría fastidiarte leerlo de corrido, por ello recomiendo hacerlo por ratitos.

La historia se enmarca en Japón, en 1938, durante el juego final del campeonato de go, último juego del gran maestro, representante de toda una gran época de go, al que se le considera un arte. Durante el encuentro, que se prolonga por seis meses -sí se saben tomar su tiempo eh-, Kawabata, el autor, da cuenta de las meticulosas y complicadas reglas de este juego, bajo condiciones establecidas por concenso y arbitrio, las cuales resultan bastante extrañas para quienes somos ajenos a este universo. A su vez, el autor explora la cotidianidad de los jugadores para adentrarnos en su vida y conocer de cerca tanto sus fortalezas como sus debilidades. También nos confronta con valores y costumbres de una época que ya parece muy remota: ante todo la respetuosa consideración hacia el hombre mayor, el maestro.

De manera magistral la crónica no es lineal, ¿cómo logra esto el autor? Aún no lo sé, pero su sutileza para hilvanar hechos en forma discontinua es muy ingeniosa. Este forma de narración fascina desde su inicio. Sólo un gran talento puede desmenuzar una historia dando brincos por la línea del tiempo, sin perderse. Ahora tendré que releerlo para tomar nota de manera más conciente eh!

Aunque el libro está basado en un hecho real, se menciona que buena parte de la reconstrucción de la historia es ficticia, pero como en toda "novela reportaje" que he leído, me parece muy apegada a los hechos reales.

Lo extraño de este librito es que a pesar de conocer el nombre del vencedor desde el inicio, se sigue experiementando durante todo el relato la tensión y ansiedad típicas de los juegos de competencia. Si disfrutas los juegos de mesa, este relato te deleitará.

Telegram de Björk

¿Por qué descubrí este disco hasta ahora? Tengo las manos sobre mi cabeza al decirlo.

Telegram es el título del disco que Björk nos entregó hace más de 10 años, ¡aahh cómo se pasa el tiempo! Y a pesar de ello suena como si hubiera sido producido este año, mérito de su vanguardia. Contiene mezclas y arreglos que hacen distintas sus canciones de entonces. Algunas canciones se acompañan de violín, otras tienen toquecitos de jazz y hasta rap, aunque de este último nunca he sido partidaria. Debo confesar que son muy pocos los discos que saben entrecruzar el ingenio con el buen gusto, sorprendentemente éste me dejó feliz. Al contrario de otros materiales suyos, Telegram tiene una portada muy x, con fotos cachondonas en el interior ;) ¡qué milagro eh! Es un disco de fácil digestión, lleno de soniditos raros y ricos.

Sobre este blog

Aquí encontrarás nuestras recomendaciones de lugares para visitar, libros, discos y buena comida. En tres idiomas: español, francés e inglés. Conforme se nos dé a escribir en el momento.