Sep. 5th, 2005

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Daemonomania ended well. We watched favorite Mamet movies, mine The Edge, hers Glengarry Glen Ross, both still superb. The latest Six Feet Under and Curb Your Enthusiasm releases were fun.

I'll be reading Ulysses, Jude the Obscure, What Maisie Knew, HD's Trilogy and, um, The English Patient for classes this season; rereading Nostromo, To the Lighthouse (happy about these two), The Good Soldier, Heart of Darkness (sigh), poems of the British Romantics and some TS Eliot.

Other than the Matrix movies, ultimately a vulgarization, the only explicitly Gnostic film I can remember seeing is They Might Be Giants, where George C. Scott thinks he's Sherlock Holmes etc. It had some '60s cutesiness but a few wonderful sequences, I've been craving it lately.

My first new couch arrived and life is good on it.
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Leaving John Crowley behind with the summer. Some last words about his books, all of which are good, all of which I recommend:

The Deep: His first published book, apparently science-fictionalized from a historical novel he started as a teenager. Good writing in a plain (almost young adult fiction) style supports a rather ingenious plot, leading to a genuinely stirring ending. Only real flaw is a certain narrative bareness. Also, though some notions and images from his later books are here in ovo, if his name weren't on the cover you might never guess this is Crowley's.

Beasts: Like The Deep this masquerades as '70s action sci-fi but is actually a low-key gnostic apocalypse, where the false world is thrown off and we're left facing each other for the first time in the first present moment. I think the central conceit--genetically engineered man/animal hybrids--represents individual differences. False conforming pressures removed, we're all slightly alien to each other, and that's all to the good. Less interesting structurally than its predecessor, though Crowley's voice starts to become recognizable.

Engine Summer: Incalculable leap forward, his best after Little, Big and perhaps Aegypt. Apparently written in his mid-twenties then cut down for publication a decade later, this is the best science fiction (and hippie/drug culture) book I've ever been exposed to. Too short to meander (though there are snake's-hands), this may also be Crowley's most perfect novel-as-novel, unless that's The Translator. Best to just praise and praise this and leave its story a surprise.

The Deep, Beasts, and Engine Summer are in print together under the title Otherwise. The old pocket paperbacks aren't too hard to find, in my experience.

Little, Big: How good is it? Of the thousand or so novels I've read I can think of a handful I liked better. Not sure any of those are as wise or important. An attempt of mine to describe or explain it could go on forever and never quite get it right.

Aegypt (Part 1--The Solitudes): First installment of a vast novel started in the '70s and still in progress. Quite wonderful, quite hard to describe. Even hard to place generically, as supernatural elements in it may all be imaginary--the need for them, the secret story told through such lies is part of the subject.

Love and Sleep (Part 2 of Aegypt): I discussed this before I think; first third a strange but excellent departure, rest of the book seemingly as lost as its characters. The metaphors that remind you into your larger self have a way of going stale, of being taken literally and becoming mere insanity. This must be absurdly hard to write about. A thing I'm proud of in my own life is a car I drew in high school art class: we were to copy a magazine ad. Everyone picked a car at an angle, I picked a horizontal view. Took about a month to make it look properly three dimensional, I had to add all kinds of shines and shades that hadn't existed in the photograph. Reminds me of his challenge here, keeping interesting a tale of people whose own stories have gone bad or missing.

Daemonomania (Part 3 of Aegypt): Much more assured than Part 2, which takes place more or less simultaneously. Still all over the place, but the tourguide is in fine form. Most of the supernovel's plot is wrapped up by the end, Part 4 will apparently be a new departure.

The Translator: Russia and America during the Cold War. A very fine, very likeable "general fiction" work. Start with this if you're allergic to fairies, werewolves or the future. It will give you confidence in Crowley's importance and powers.

Lord Byron's Novel: Almost as good, marred slightly by a tacked-on feeling expositronic "present day" narrative. Basically a novel Byron might have written, cynical and poignant and fun, voiced perfectly.

Novelties & Souvenirs: A collection of stories contemporaneous with the writing of Aegypt, some of them close to it in message or tone; others close to Little, Big: "The Nightingale Sings at Night" could have been included as one of Alice's father's stories, "Novelty" documents its moment of birth. "In Blue" is set in the Beasts world (and maybe Engine Summer's also). The cornerpiece of the book is the time-travel novella "The Great Work of Time", which is impressive if confusing. My favorite story is the hilarious "Gone", other highlights are "The War Between the Objects and Subjects" and "Exogamy". Very readable book, though Crowley's stronger in novels.

"The Girlhood of Shakespeare's Heroines" (available in Conjunctions 39, also published separately): Forty page story. Baconians as Gnostics. Heartbreaking.
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Some other books read this summer:

The Plot Against America: Historical what-if book, an odd lark for Roth, though he turns it into another beautiful love letter to his family and town. Allegedly not directed at the present misusers of state power, but it made me more and more furious at them and their past cognates. A strong creation and experience, worthy of '90s Roth.

American Pastoral: The one I burnt out on last year (after a happy dash through almost all his other books), and found heavy going this summer as well. A shame as clearly it's one of the great American novels, as its proud title knows. You just come to know an author's voice and obsessions too well after a point, I guess. Gotta space things out. Also: don't read when hungover. That's killed a few masterpieces for me.

Anne Carson's poems: I read and loved them all, especially the loose trilogy of "The Glass Essay" and the book-length poems Autobiography of Red and The Beauty of the Husband. Glass Irony & God might be her strongest collection.

Child of God: My first taste of Cormac McCarthy's world. This man can write.

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