Career of Evil by Robert Galbraith (2015)

In the third book of the series, Robin and Cormoran have their most grisly and dangerous case yet.

Book Review: J.K. Rowling can't win. For her masses of fans who adored the Harry Potter books to little bitty pieces, nothing she writes will ever again be as good, even a book as excellent as The Casual Vacancy. The literary critics, however, will never give Rowling the credit she's due for a book as excellent as The Casual Vacancy, because she wrote the Potter books, which were both YA and a beyond-massive success. Which brings us to the three books, including the most recent, Career of Evil, of the Cormoran Strike series by Robert Galbraith. All are excellent detective stories and well worth reading. For me, when reading a series (this, Hunger Games, whatever) the test of each installment is: "Will I read the next one?" By this standard Rowling and Galbraith pass with flying colors. After Career of Evil, I can't wait for the next one. I enjoyed The Silkworm a wee bit more than this or The Cuckoo's Calling, but I know other readers enjoyed this one more. Career of Evil is darker and more bloody than the last book, but just as good in most every way. Strike is flailing about trying to keep his business and life together, but all is falling apart. We learn more about Robin's and Cormoran's back stories and their current story also. Very English, very London, A good read indeed. No real flaws, tho occasionally, not often, the writing is a little more slapdash than expected, but it's not a serious distraction and I'm sure Rowling was quite busy while writing this. And this criticism circles round to my first paragraph: we expect virtual perfection from her. A final footnote: is J.K. Rowling a massive Blue Oyster Cult ('70s/'80s American rock band -- look up "Don't Fear the Reaper" on YouTube) fan or what? Each chapter begins with a title or line from one of Blue Oyster Cult's songs, and their music has a place in the story as well. And really there's no point in talking any more about this book. If you enjoyed The Cuckoo's Calling and The Silkworm, you must read Career of Evil as well. Just gotta. [4 Stars]

Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (2004)

At the age of 90, a nonentity and failure decides to do something he thought he would never do, and becomes a new man.

Book Review:  Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez is not a book for prudes or those whose minds are so dirty they cannot fly. This is not Lolita in Spanish; this is a fairy tale of a sleeping beauty, of a year and a day, of metamorphosis. It is a novella of hope, memories, age, love, tenderness, patience. Our narrator is so insignificant he doesn't even have a name. He is ugly, shy, poor, friendless, loveless, living in a decaying house, his only hot meal a daily potato omelet. He's never had sex without paying for it; he almost married once, but couldn't leave his nights with prostitutes. He has refused on principle to consider underage prostitutes, and considers Shirley Temple the center of an obscene cult. But at 90, "an age when most mortals have already died," he decides to violate his principles and sleep with a virgin girl, who has just turned 14 (the legal age of consent in Colombia). Who can say what we may do at 90? Until we are that age, can we judge the actions of those who have lived far longer than we? Perhaps, as one character says, "morality ... is a question of time." Let me be clear: If you believe this book approves, validates, or even enjoys pedophilia, you're reading it wrong. Our narrator does not consummate with the girl the first night, but that night is the beginning of the first year of his new life, the life he had never lived. Memories of My Melancholy Whores shows the transforming power of love even as Garcia Marquez looks at the wounds of age and regrets of a life not lived. In that year our narrator learns patience, learns to love, to appreciate women without sex. He adopts an ancient cat, learns to make a home, begins to despise his old life, all because of his first love at 90. He is no longer the boy who was assaulted by a prostitute at 12, the man who had sex instead of love, the one who had lived without a life. He at last becomes a person, and Memories shows the ageism of society, where the old are barely noticed, easily dismissed, and not expected to have a life. Memories of My Melancholy Whores covers much ground in its few pages. Although Edith Grossman's translation seems mediocre (in fairness, I did not have the Spanish version), with many "is that the right word?" moments and times when the lucid prose becomes tortured, the book is still overflowing with Marquez's beautiful writing, even at 77 his powers undiminished. A deceptively small and simple book, with many great realizations. [4.5 Stars]

Nights of Naomi by Bill Knott (1940-1966) (1971)

The fourth book of poetry by American poet Bill Knott (1940-2014).

Poetry Review:  When he wrote Nights of Naomi, Bill Knott had descended into madness or surrealism, or both, or neither. This chapbook was the third of his "Naomi" books, following The Naomi Poems, Book One: Corpse and Beans (1968), and Auto-Necrophilia, The _____ Poems. Book 2 (1971). Between those two books was another chapbook, Aurealism: A Study. At the time Knott, still adding imaginary life dates to his name, called Nights of Naomi his "first and only book," the others "like the patent office, full of garbage." This book consists of 32 untitled poems "plus 2 songs." Only three of the poems are the short poems for which he was best known. Nights of Naomi is an exploration of surrealism, his own internal universe, or overwhelming angst; perhaps all three. Although Knott's earlier books had tinges of surrealism, they were comprehensible. Here, he treats accessibility and understanding as foreign lands; only brief but enjoyable moments of awareness and recognition. I can find something to like in:

   Cueballs have invented insomnia in an attempt to forget eyelids

But more often I'm reading this:

   Like a razorblade choir of cocoa-steam footprints

There are moments in Nights of Naomi any Bill Knott fan will enjoy, but many more instances will be challenging at best and incomprehensible otherwise. Knott made such a break here from previous books that I'm surprised he retained the "Naomi" motif (he once again mentions poet Naomi Lazard). Here the surrealist lines may be an effort to express the unconscious, or maybe to not be required to have meaning, and without meaning Knott makes no judgments and is free from judgment. John Ashbery called surrealism the plane where the "subconscious and the concrete mingle on equal terms," and the "dance of non-discovery." That fits the poetry in this book; here, Knott is operating on levels other than the conscious mind, perhaps even trying to write poems that occur all at once, rather than linearly.

Not to say the book can't be read, just that it should be approached differently. Read Nights of Naomi emotionally, perhaps reflecting the emotion (anger?) that wrote it. Read it for the wordplay. Don't try to apply logic, just hang on while riding the sounds and images. Don't try to understand it, simply accept and sink into it. Read it late at night, early in the morning -- see when it might speak to you, if ever. Read it more for what you might take away, than what the poet was trying to say.

I'll close with two more quotes, one I found interesting:

   When I pick up a new poetry book
   I always glance first at the biographical note
   If the poet has children I don't read the book

and one lovely:

   ... I kiss the first letter of all alphabets to fuse the
   last word of all languages ... .

Don't be afraid, don't hesitate, don't wait to read Nights of Naomi (it can be found on-line at the Bill Knott Archive). Bizarre may be good for what ails you. [3.5 Stars]

The Silkworm by Robert Galbraith (2014)

Cormoran Strike's next case is straight out of a Jacobean revenge tragedy, enough to turn even his battle-hardened stomach, and this time he's in danger as well.

Book Review:  If you enjoyed The Cuckoo's Calling, The Silkworm is even better: meatier, more intense, a great leap forward. While that first book was a solid, page-turner, this one sinks its teeth in and doesn't let go. I read the last 100+ plus pages in a single sitting (actually I was in the tub -- got quite pruney). The crime is more lurid and involves a libelous unpublished manuscript. The characters: publishers, authors, agents, and others are real and each is a story. The mystery this time is even more raveled. We share more of Strike's and Robin's lives, and I'll just say that weddings are involved. Yes, you read that right. Once again, it is all very English, very London. On every detailed page Robert Galbraith (J.K. Rowling, natch) shoves the reader into the next page, willing or not; I was willing and if not for having to live life, I would've read The Silkworm in a single gulp. Expect the unexpected. Just to limit the gush, I'll share my few quibbles: first the plot had a little bit of stereotyping that I found unfortunate, but maybe I could excuse that as Strike baiting a witness. Robin seemed a little more insecure or needy than expected, but she was going through a rough patch. And although I did not guess the perp, some of the ending was predictable and more like a typical detective novel (this is J.K. Rowling, after all) than the highs I found in the rest of the book. But those are minor and practically invisible compared to the joys of the rest of the careening ride. The Silkworm was great and now I'm required to read Robert Galbraith's third book, Career of Evil. Can't wait.  [4.5 Stars]

Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie (2000)

Two bourgeois young men are sent to the hinterlands for re-education during the Cultural Revolution.

Book Review:  Rarely do we associate the word "charming" with forced labor, yet somehow Dai Sijie managed to create this wry, humorous, and captivating book. The characters in Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress could have presented themselves as victims of the genuine suffering of re-education during China's Cultural Revolution and expected pity. Instead the book shows their small moments of triumph over misery, a resourceful spirit that doesn't demand hand-holding, finding flowers of affirmation in the dung of their lives. One of the most striking themes is seeing how great literature eased their suffering and gave them some control over their world. Today we have great literature readily available, but this was a time and place with little literature beyond revolutionary propaganda. A world of thought and freedom opened to the two young friends when they found a forbidden trove of the West's great works. In Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress Sijie brilliantly shares their realization that there are ways to think beyond those with which they had been indoctrinated. It's a joy to see these two friends loyally stick together, with a steady sense of humor, and to watch the growth of the Little Seamstress when she too is exposed to taboo ideas. This is a little book, and although it encompasses one of the great upheavals in history, it doesn't try to do too much. Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress is a simple story simply told. Dai Sijie has provided us with a quick read and an enlightening glimpse into a time of history that seems largely forgotten today. The translation from the French by Ina Rilke flows easily, although there were a number of "is that the right word?" moments. The only flaw in the book is the ending, which tho adequate, and humorous, was perfunctory, and seemed to undercut some of the story's themes up to that point.  Well worth reading, even if one might wish for a different conclusion. And even better if you do like the ending. (BTW, I've learned that this was made into a film in 2005, tho I haven't seen it yet). [4 Stars]

Reasons She Goes to the Woods by Deborah Kay Davies (2014)

An obsessed young girl growing up strange.

Book Review:  I'm going to stall a bit and talk first about how Deborah Kay Davies constructed Reasons She Goes to the Woods. Each chapter is a single page. Every chapter has the chapter title (usually one or two words) on one page and the single page chapter on the facing page, so every other page is almost blank. Hope that makes sense. So in effect, the book is only half as long as it looks. The chapters are sequential and chronological, but there may be days, weeks, months, maybe a year (?) between chapters (pages). The format was actually intriguing in and of itself. But enough stalling, to the story. The main character, the "she" in Reasons She Goes to the Woods, is Pearl, and at the start she is around six or so, and by the end of the book she seems well into adolescence. For Pearl, it's not easy being normal: she is a troubled and unpleasant child, who can't always control her actions. The reader gets some sense of why this is so, but perhaps not the whole story, leaving some mystery in the mix. At first one is not too sympathetic to Pearl, but as the story goes along it becomes apparent that she has serious issues and an obsession that controls her life, even to her own sadness and detriment. She does bad things, but can't always help it, and there may be reasons she is the way she is. She is both disturbed and disturbing. It was an enjoyable, quick, and intriguing read. I'm still trying to decide if Deborah Kay Davies gave us enough of the story, or if some necessary parts were omitted, and she needed to tell us more about the Reasons She Goes to the Woods. [3.5 Stars]

Then Come Back: the Lost Neruda Poems by Pablo Neruda (2016)

A collection of 21 poems recently retrieved and never before published, by the Chilean poet and Nobel laureate, Pablo Neruda (1904-73), translated by Forrest Gander.

Poetry Review:  We don't know if Neruda wanted the poems in Then Come Back - The Lost Neruda Poems, to be published; we know that some are unfinished. They are odds and ends written from the early '50s to 1973. We know that he didn't consider them so indispensable that he published them during his lifetime. But just as the executor for Kafka did right not to follow instructions to burn his works, so we are better off having these poems. Imagine if an unfinished Shakespeare play was found -- wouldn't the scrap be better than nothing at all? And although insufficiently famous in English-speaking countries, Pablo Neruda is considered by many to be the world's greatest poet since Shakespeare.

Neruda wrote hundreds of poems, and these won't change our opinion of him, but it's a good if slight collection. He was a magician when writing about love:

   You and I are the land full of fruit.
   Bread, fire, blood, and wine
   make up the earthly love that sears us.

Neruda was also known for his odes, and some of the poems in Then Come Back - The Lost Neruda Poems seem to be from his series of odes (odas). He writes often and fondly of his native and beloved Chile. The set closes with two distinct poems, one a humorous "ode" to the horrors of the telephone (what would he have made of mobiles?), and the other a worthy tribute to the first astronauts, noting that:

   they didn't go by themselves,
   they brought our earth,
   the odors of moss and forest ...

All in all we are lucky to have this lovely collection, Then Come Back - The Lost Neruda Poems. That said I have two small complaints. First, terribly picky: usually the untranslated and translated poems are on facing pages. Here, the poems are first printed as a group in English, and then later the poems are printed together in the original Spanish, making it difficult to read both at the same time. Second, the translation is uneven and at times awkward. Sometimes Gander perfectly captures Neruda's meaning, but at other times he varies wildly, often picking a more colorful or evocative word over Neruda's simpler choice. Every translator can be unfairly nit-picked to death, and that's not my intent, so I'll give just a single example. Gander translates "la prostituta de su traje falso," as "the hooker from her Lycra and falsies."  "Traje" can mean suit, clothes, dress, apparel, costume ... but regardless, I'm unsure whether Neruda ever used the word "Lycra." Every translator has to make difficult choices, but some in this collection were, to me, awkward and off-putting. I'm sure others would disagree with my choices.

Other than these two nit-picks, Then Come Back - The Lost Neruda Poems, is a solid addition to the master's legacy. [3.5 Stars]

Poems that Make Grown Women Cry ed. by Anthony and Ben Holden (2016)

A collection of emotion-provoking poems selected by 100 notable women.

Poetry Review:  Diversity, a hundred separate vantage points, is the strength of this excellent book. Poems that Make Grown Women Cry, edited by Anthony and Ben Holden, is a fine collection of poems, selected by 100 women: writers, actors, critics, musicians, filmmakers, activists, from 23 nationalities, with ages ranging from 20-something to 90-something. This diverse company of women, not just the usual academics, has created a selection of poems from 18 countries, written from the 8th Century to 2014, some unknown, some by names such as Rumi, Byron, Dickinson, Eliot, Bishop, Plath, Duffy.

The actor and comedian Miranda Hart notes that she is not well versed in poetry, but hopes that "this anthology proves a lovely starting point for others in the same boat." The great variety of Poems that Make Grown Women Cry makes it the perfect vehicle for someone beginning to read and sample poetry. Find an artist you know, Judi Dench, Helen MacDonald, Emily Mortimer, Joan Baez, Elena Ferrante, Carol Ann Duffy, Annie Lennox, Ursula K. LeGuin, Edna O'Brien, Nikki Giovanni, Joss Stone, Antonia Fraser, Joyce Carol Oates, many others (sorry, no Kardashians). See if their choice resonates with you. I found a wonderful, powerful poem, new to me, "Medusa" by Louise Bogan, selected by American author Karen Joy Fowler. Julie Christie selected an old friend, one of my favorite poems, the astonishing "I Explain a Few Things" by Pablo Neruda. There is so much to treasure here, and so much treasure to be found here. A wonderful place to begin, or continue, reading poetry. The poems are presented in chronological order. There is also a companion volume to Poem that Make Grown Women Cry, from 2014, Poems that Make Grown Men Cry (includes Colin Firth). Both are for the benefit of Amnesty International, so if you buy you're also helping a good cause.

And although sadly it's not included here, the poem that makes me cry is "Death of a Son" by the English poet, Jon Silken. The most sorrowful poem ever written. [3.5 Stars]

Zero K by Don DeLillo (2016)

A wealthy man attempts to live forever.

Book Review:  Zero K was my introduction to Don DeLillo; don't know if it was a good place, but it's where I started. This is postmodernist literature, not that the label matters, but I haven't read many such novels, so here is a fresh view of the arena. The story line is simple: a 30-something man watches as his extremely wealthy father and step-mother attempt eternal life through a cryogenic process a quantum leap beyond anything imagined today.

This is a book of thoughts more than emotion, and always wordplay. The characters are Spockian, analyzing, defining, dwelling on conscious evaluation of life rather than simply living. They feel logic rather than responding to sharp spikes of emotion, and treasure small moments of feeling. Much silence punctuated by meaningful conversation. The one present moment of violence in Zero K is over in a sentence, with no repercussion or effect. A past moment of violence is much the same: after a wife stabs her husband, he bandages himself and the couple go to bed. Much of the first-person narration is filtered through memory; some of the present-tense narration seems unreliable. Sex is sterile and emotionless. Zero K is a meditation on death, the impermanence and unpredictability of the world, the residue of life.

While reading I thought of Ayn Rand, in that every sentence is written to advance a message rather than the plot; in fairness, this is better writing, tho Rand's is more emotional. Zero K also reminded me of '60s European art films, where surreal events occur periodically, the main character (and the viewer) simply observe and accept, and life goes on. Except here we're in "tomblike" buildings, geometric slabs (like flattened pyramids?), where an extremely rich man (think pharaoh) has determined to live forever; as part of the cryonic process organs are even removed and sealed separately.

So what of the book? The first half is designed to provoke thoughts about death and life, touching on philosophy, politics, family, and it succeeds, neurons were firing. This isn't a book for healthy teenagers -- De Lillo is 80 and thinking about life in a way that is impossible for those farther from death (if read by teenagers, please re-read 30 years later, and then 20 years after that). When I was a teenager I thought about death every day, but I never thought I'd die. The second half of the book (there is literally Part One and Part Two) shows something of the son's life and his mild relationship with a woman and her son. It's all somewhat pleasant except the world and the son are falling apart.

All in all I enjoyed Zero K, tho it is a book more of the head than the heart. More thinking than feeling. Well written, thought provoking, meaning always elusive and uncertain. A good book makes the reader think, and Zero K does that. The reader just accepts that this is how Don DeLillo writes a book. At the end, a good ending, I was still left with one other thought: if this is all their lives are, why do they want to live forever? [4 Stars]

The Road Through the Wall by Shirley Jackson (1948)

A portrait of the darker borders of suburbia and the consequences of evil.

Book Review:  Shirley Jackson's first novel, The Road Through the Wall, explored the hidden, ingrained cruelties of suburban families: racism, religious and disability discrimination, bullying, classism, the emotional brutality of parents to children and children to other children. Most of which acts are disguised as kindness or cloaked in politeness. The book also paints the difficulties of poverty, age, loneliness, and isolation in this supposedly idyllic space. If The Road Through the Wall is a picture of Shirley Jackson's childhood, I don't envy her that (it's seemingly set in 1936). In addressing so many earnest issues, however, we have almost too many characters, and almost none are sympathetic. The reader may want to keep a chart of the families based on the Genesis-like Prologue. There is little plot, more an accumulation of carefully detailed episodes, telling incidents, and deep emotional subtleties, that Jackson uses to tell her story. Jackson also provides an inevitable, but mysterious, conclusion. The book is a prologue to her famous short story, "The Lottery," as in this: "Pleasure was in the feeling that the terrors of the night, the jungle, had come close to their safe lighted homes, touched them nearly, and departed, leaving every family safe but one." Two final notes: first, although I have trouble expressing why, my feeling of this is that it is an excellent novel, better than any individual moment or reason I can identify, if that makes any kind of sense. Reminded me at times, in a good way, of The Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling. Second, the Foreword in the Penguin Classics edition is by Jackson's future biographer, who here finds a developmentally disabled girl's confusion and mistakes as "wonderful moments of humor." That chilled me to the bone, and given that insight it's with trepidation I await her new biography of Jackson in September 2016. The Road Through the Wall is an insightful examination of childhood sorrows and adult failures. Well worth reading by more than just Shirley Jackson fans. [4 Stars].

Charles Bukowski: Six Best Novels

Charles Bukowski (1920-1994), poet and novelist of the beat and downtrodden, born in Germany but spent most of his life in Los Angeles. Before we talk about Bukowski's six best novels, let's talk about the mystery that is Charles Bukowski and his novels. What is it about Bukowski, how does he do it? There's something about his writing that works. He's simple and to the point, you know when you're reading Bukowski: no one ever had trouble getting through one of his sentences. I'd like to read Virginia Woolf or Henry James translated into Bukowski, would blow my mind. Bukowski doesn't use plot: his novels are just a series of events strung together, till he arbitrarily decides to end the book. There are no surprises, development, plot twists, literary techniques. But it works. Just as Catcher in the Rye is best read in one's teenage years, Bukowski's books appeal most to boys from age 15 to their late 20s. And to the girls who can put up with him. Because he's a pig. But it works. You feel his loneliness and desperation; his writing is alive, it has a soul of its own. Not always great writing, but writing with life. Not even always passionate writing, often he's too run down, beat up, or just plain tired to be passionate.  He's Beat. In some ways Bukowski's novels seemed secondary to his poetry, perhaps written to support his poetry. But it works.

Let's talk about Bukowski's six best novels, but of course he only wrote six novels: Post Office (1971), Factotum (1975), Women (1978), Ham on Rye (1982), Hollywood (1989), and Pulp (1994). Since five of them are semi-autobiographical they can be read chronologically: Ham on Rye, from the birth of his alter-ego Henry Chinaski to Pearl Harbor; Factotum, from the time he was trying to leave home to traveling the country and working for the Man; Post Office, when Chinaski got (semi-)steady work and tried to write steadily; Women, after he was starting to get famous and groupies began to appear; and Hollywood, when Chinaski was finally successful (money & fame) and was roped into making a movie (Barfly). Pulp does not fit into this sequence (no Henry Chinaski), but perhaps it represents the book Chinaski was writing in all those other books.

Now for the debate: trying to decide which is best of Bukowski's novels. Not that it matters -- readers who like one Bukowski novel will probably read all of them eventually. The consensus (tho not undisputed) is that Ham on Rye is his best, and I concur. It's about growing up Bukowski, and reads even more like a memoir than the rest of his books. At its best, Ham on Rye is heartbreaking and beautifully written. It's a real book, not just a "Bukowski book" (course I happen to like "Bukowski books," but I recognize the concept). If you only read one, read this. After that you could throw a blanket over the next three Bukowski novels: I'd say Factotum, Post Office, and Women, in that order. Bukowski fans would jumble those three endlessly. Both Post Office and Factotum have his philosophy and insights into the unnatural nature of work in America. Hollywood  ends up fifth by default, it's the story of making the movie Barfly, for which Bukowski wrote the script. Some people like this one because of the real-life characters in there, including Mickey Rourke and Faye Dunaway. But to me Bukowski's writing seems tired and by-the-book at this point. I don't think Hollywood is essential Bukowski, tho it's of a piece with his other work. A rich and famous Henry Chinaski just doesn't ring as true as a struggling, desperate Chinaski; must be the sadist in me. And finally Pulp, at which point apparently Bukowski had run out of steam, no more material from his own life and decided to write a real novel, with a plot but without Chinaski. Pulp is generally considered the worst of his books, and again, I agree. If we were going to dispense with one of Bukowski's six best novels, this would be the one. Some people like it, but I'm guessing they're die-hard Bukowski fans and completists. Some say it is intentionally poorly written (as the dedication suggests), but I don't see that as a genuine rationale. I think it's undoubtedly the worst of his novels, but I'm a completist. I've read all Bukowski's novels, and I read Pulp, and felt it didn't require Bukowski to write it.

Now, about those poems ... .

Muriel Spark - The Biography by Martin Stannard (2009)

A biography of the Scottish novelist, critic, and poet, Muriel Spark (1918-2006), whose most famous book was The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.

Book Review:  Muriel Spark: The Biography is a thoroughly researched beast of a book (over 536 pages of text), but the writing takes some time to get used to and to get through. After a couple hundred pages either the writing improved or I became accustomed to it. The author was personally selected by Spark herself, and had access to her personal papers, so I can't imagine a more thorough or better researched biography for a while to come. The literary discussion of her work was not particularly helpful and seemed a bit haphazard, as if patched together from various sources. But it certainly provides a view of her work and if he had access to Spark's opinions, then worth even more than that. The author is partial to Spark, which is to be expected, and takes her side of controversies whenever possible, at times vehemently so. This did not, however, detract from the book for me as it was fairly obvious when he was being partial.

Two main themes come out of Muriel Spark: The Biography. First, is that of Muriel Spark as a strong individual with a iron point of view that rarely bent for others, even those closest to her. Her first dedication was to her writing above all, and woe to those who interrupted her while at her vocation. She converted from a Jewish childhood to Catholicism, traveled to Africa to get married and have a child, charged headlong into the male dominated London literary establishment of the '40s and '50s, and while there were setbacks, she never stopped demanding, fighting, to construct her own unique future.

Second, her novels are more autobiographical than they might first appear, but never blatantly so as she was an almost violently private person, even while often living in the public eye. In her novels, the plot, even the characters, serve to create her moral, religious, and philosophical discussions. But these discussions are never clear cut, with all the paradoxes and ambiguities of humanity reflected: there is no one point of view, contradictions are always included, her contrariness no different than simply that of life. And despite how often her discussions touched on religion, her view of the omnipotent was not that commonly imagined, far different than the anthropomorphized deity one might expect.

I haven't read any other biographies of Spark, but Muriel Spark: The Biography must be close to authoritative for the near future, only wanting more lucid writing and incisive literary analysis. [3.5 Stars]

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson (1959)

Four strangers seeking the occult occupy Hill House, not knowing what they're looking for, or what they'll find.

Book Review:  Is there something wrong with me that I want to live in Hill House? The Haunting of Hill House is probably Shirley Jackson's best known novel and one of her two best books. Stephen King called The Haunting of Hill House one of the greatest horror novels of all time, and dedicated his novel Firestarter to her. It took a re-read for this book to penetrate my thick skull. On the first read I thought this was a horror story, and wasn't as horrified as I expected to be. All the scary bits are indirect, suggested, never really seen. On the second read I realized that Jackson wasn't trying to terrify the reader, she was showing Eleanor, the main character, being terrified, then disturbed, intrigued, welcomed, possessed, and absorbed by Hill House. It's Eleanor's psyche that is the core of the story. In The Haunting of Hill House, as with Shirley Jackson's other books, the action is really in the psychology. The house is a full blown character, and Eleanor's interaction with that persona is what drives the book (don't worry, the other characters are strong enough to keep the readers' attention, also). I fell into Jackson's description of the house, everything being just a little off, and felt the offness as I read. But what brought the book together was the ending, because it was the only possible ending, and made all that went before fall into place. Perfect. At the beginning of the book Eleanor has a miserable life, so miserable she dreams of being alone, is terrified of breaking rules and being punished, and views a couple weeks in a haunted house as an escape from the misery of her real life. After finding Hill House she can throw off her past and refuses to be a passive victim any longer. She has been through a baptism of fire and now belongs in Hill House.  At the end she comes alive. Jackson fans will eat this up. If you like Shirley Jackson you'll love The Haunting of Hill House, if you liked either of the movies (1963 or 1999), here's the book, and it's an excellent read. [5 Stars]

Auto-Necrophilia by Bill Knott (1940-1966) (1971)

The second book by American poet Bill Knott (1940-2014).

Poetry Review:  Artists as diverse as Mary Karr, Charles Simic, and Richard Hell have cited Bill Knott as an influence. In his second book, Auto-Necrophilia, Knott very much continues the feel of The Naomi Poems (published in 1968), warranting its sub-title: "The ____ Poems. Book 2." The chapbook, Aurealism: A Study (1970), was published between these two books. In that one and this, Bill Knott assumed his own name (no longer using the pseudonym Saint Geraud, as he did with The Naomi Poems), although he still appends the fictional life dates "(1940-1966)" to his name. One of the poems in Auto-Necrophilia addresses the pseudonym issue:

   I don't use a pen-name anymore
   I don't use a pen anymore
   I don't write anymore
   I just sit looking at the wastebasket
   With this alert intelligent look on my face

Vietnam is less an obvious theme here (tho the war is still a subtext to many of the pieces):

   if you understand something
           explain it to me
   but real slow
   and use one-syllable corpses

There aren't quite as many of the short, incisive poems in Auto-Necrophilia, but they still have an effect:

   I am the only one who can say
   "I have never been in anyone's dreams"
   Your nakedness: the sound when I break an apple in half

and,

   The wind blew a piece of paper to my feet.
   I picked it up.
   It was not a petition for my death.

Generally the poems are longer, and there is a noticeable increase in the surrealism (or is it Aurealism?) in the pieces:

   The spinal-fusion taps at the window of blank pennies.

and,

   Lyricism is the elaboration of a moment's cowardice
   For example the rows of shoes surrounding an empty lighthouse

Usually I'm not a fan of surrealism just to appear weird and randomly juxtapose incongruous images, but Bill Knott's surrealism works on two levels. First, I believe there's a method to his madness, there is a meaningful underlying message, it's not aimless even if I don't always get it. Second, the power of his images, even when opaque, are so good that I can just read his lines for the pleasure of the ride:

   You slash your throat with a butterfly

and,

   Even your shoulders are petty crimes

Knott's anger and antagonistic nature are well on display in Auto-Necrophilia, as the kind of person who's only happy when he's unhappy, rarely allowing the status quo to linger, overturning the apple cart whenever things seem to be going too well. As more evidence of Knott's contrary nature, the Table of Contents does not address the actual poem titles, most of which are simply "Poem," but are the titles of B-movie horror films. The poems are also full of his usual puns and wordplay and an insistence on provocative tastelessness (such as the book's title).

I'm admittedly a Bill Knott fan, if you can find his books, you might be too. [4.5 Stars]