Published in 1940 between Brave New World and 1984, Swedish novelist and poet Karin Boye’s steely, unshowy dystopian novel has now at last been PenguiPublished in 1940 between Brave New World and 1984, Swedish novelist and poet Karin Boye’s steely, unshowy dystopian novel has now at last been Penguinized and takes its place alongside those two monsters of terrifying presage. In this hellscape, Boye subverts H.G. Wells’s utopian vision of a World State into a totalitarian nightmare, where scientist Kall invents a truth serum—an anti-soma administered by injection—that forces the recipient into a confessional state for several minutes, exhuming all their negative thoughts on the regime. The novel imagines concepts such as the thought police and various menacing ministries before Orwell made them popular, and opts for a flatter, more icy prose style, with Kall as a less odious Mengele figure. While not as stylistically interesting as Huxley or Orwell, and with more mysticism and reliance on characters making long speeches to expand the scope of the imagined world, Kallocain is still a formidable vision of hell and worth discovering....more
An oppressive, airless last-people-on-earth novel with a cast of incestuous siblings all torturing the obese, legless Dolores, who spends most of her An oppressive, airless last-people-on-earth novel with a cast of incestuous siblings all torturing the obese, legless Dolores, who spends most of her time crawling through mud in an amateur reenactment of Beckett’s How It Is. In an encampment overseen by a coolly tyrannous Matriarch, the interchangeable vile characters have an unlimited stream of abstract and intellectual sensations and vibes that pour forth in relentless, smothering blocks of prose that sweat hard to elevate this grim tableau of nothing-much-happening into a monolith of poetic grandiloquence and “powerful imagery”. The characters, allowed no room to reveal themselves as humans, are ciphers swaddled in their cloaks of breathless prose, wafting around committing incest and violence and in their downtime soaking in long baths of breathless what-the-fuck-does-that-even-mean prose that sacrifices coherence for the vibes and the feels. A frustrating novel that with a little more breathing space for the characters and less smothering the reader in a swamp of surreal, abstract images, could have been a more satisfying vision of desolation....more
A singularly unpleasant and gruelling read, Trieste rambles through the fictional history of an Italian-Jewish woman in a narrative that reviewers areA singularly unpleasant and gruelling read, Trieste rambles through the fictional history of an Italian-Jewish woman in a narrative that reviewers are contractually obligated to describe as Sebaldian. The similarities to W.G. Sebald’s novels start and end at the insertion of low-res photographs into the text—narratively, Drndić’s style is more restless, patchwork, and less conservative in its graphic descriptions of horror. Riddled with fascinating stories drawn from years of painstaking research, concise information on the lesser-known Nazi war criminals whose butcheries deserve a public airing, and a moving 40-page list of those Italian Jews murdered in the holocaust, Trieste provides a striking and original insight into the endless excavation of horror that is WWII history. My only real issue with the novel is the digressions gradually consume the fictional story of Haya Tedeschi which remains (intentionally?) unresolved....more
A mordant tragicomedy of the fractious familial fumbling between a guardian angel saleswoman and her terminal mother told with Rudan’s uncompromising A mordant tragicomedy of the fractious familial fumbling between a guardian angel saleswoman and her terminal mother told with Rudan’s uncompromising waspish prose panache. As in her other (better) novels Night and Love at Last Sight, the novel explores grim themes—in this instance child sexual abuse, the capriciousness of caring for burdensome relatives, and violence (child and domestic)—with a flip and bitter humour that puts the reader at remove from the narrator, whose endless stream of sardonicism becomes tiresome and less amusing as the story rambles repetitively onward....more
An amuse-bouche of short fantastical tales depicting vaguely sensual encounters with gentlemen of various professions. The stories are all prefaced wiAn amuse-bouche of short fantastical tales depicting vaguely sensual encounters with gentlemen of various professions. The stories are all prefaced with or inspired by (more interesting) quotes from Baudelaire, Zola, and other Gallic Greats, and in tone are the very epitome of très charmant, mademoiselle. Bland and uninspired prose wrapped in an Oulipian kimono—this is super-lightweight fare from the once-peerless Dalkey Archive....more
Shot through with a lexicographer’s love of words, the stories in this collection veer from the playfully surreal to the poignantly poised to the overShot through with a lexicographer’s love of words, the stories in this collection veer from the playfully surreal to the poignantly poised to the overindulgently twee and/or smug. As someone similarly prone to caressing the cute carcasses of words to ludicrous lengths, any complaints I may have about the attention Williams draws to the words in her stories, and the delight with which she tantalises the reader with her unrelenting wordplay, are blatant hypocrisy. The strongest stories are those where Williams reins in the verbivoracity—too many read like someone mainlining the Britannica for 24 hours and heaving up factoids onto the page like a coked-up QI elf—while alluding to an ex-lover/ex-friend who has seemingly walked out in exasperation at the narrator’s irritating overeagerness. Also, the marvellous opening story ‘The Alphabet’ encapsulates her talent so perfectly that the other stories seem to sit in its shadow or strive to recreate its magic....more
Very entertaining memoir from innovative bassist Steve Hanley, a man who arguably believed in The Fall more than Mark E. Smith—while the mercurial fouVery entertaining memoir from innovative bassist Steve Hanley, a man who arguably believed in The Fall more than Mark E. Smith—while the mercurial founder was locked in a self-destructive spiral of alcohol and amphetamine addiction, sabotaging the group’s fortunes by smashing up equipment, stropping around on stage, making intentionally bad production choices, and lapsing into childish and spiteful buffoonery, Hanley was there to manage the band, maintain a semblance of sanity, and avert catastrophe for a further few minutes. His stamina and belief in the group is explored across this sizzling novelistic account spanning their halcyon 1980s through to their abysmal late 1990s collapse into on-stage punchups and arrests, told in a witty and warm style. For Hanley, The Fall was a time of unbridled artistic joyousness punctuated by the ravings of a tyrant, and the memoir is one long, exhilarating fireside yarn from a seasoned veteran that should act as catnip to any and every Fall fan....more
Cult feminist SF from Japan—strong dystopian concepts marred by the stroppy-teenagery narrators and incoherent storylines in the second half of the coCult feminist SF from Japan—strong dystopian concepts marred by the stroppy-teenagery narrators and incoherent storylines in the second half of the collection....more
Screenwriter, novelist, film critic, and third wife of livid young playwright John Osbourne (author of the Beckett homage What if Godot Was One of Us?Screenwriter, novelist, film critic, and third wife of livid young playwright John Osbourne (author of the Beckett homage What if Godot Was One of Us?), Gilliatt’s fourth novel is a very bizarre character piece, mingling witty and surreal DeLilloesque dialogue with anecdotes about Northumberland shipbuilding and the struggles of the suffragettes. As entertaining as the individual chapters are, sprinkled with eccentrics, trivia, and offbeat autobiographical snapshots, the novel never coheres into anything substantive or memorable. ...more
A 1960s novel from a Cuban-Italian novelist whose work is having a modest unburying from Pushkin Press, filmed in 1968 by spaghetti western director FA 1960s novel from a Cuban-Italian novelist whose work is having a modest unburying from Pushkin Press, filmed in 1968 by spaghetti western director Franco Giraldi to lukewarm reviews. Guilio Broggini is a womanizing lawyer whose lust is directed toward buxom and deeply cynical teenager Ivana. He spends the bulk of the novel trying to smarm her into the sack before tossing her aside like his other lovers. Her savvy family, however, make it impossible for him to sate his lust with their daughter until they are properly married and the approval of a mythical uncle is awarded. A witty and entertaining exploration of class relations in 1960s Italy—where the poverty gap between the Ferrari-driving class and the struggling Mussolini-nostalgic working class was stark—as well as a frequently hilarious comedy of errors, this novel (translated by the legendary Isabel Quigly) is a stylish and thoroughly engaging work from a writer deserving of a proper unburying. This edition was first published in 1968 by Michael Joseph....more
One of America’s most remarkable writers concluded her career with her second-best work, having never quite reached the towering tippermost of The HeaOne of America’s most remarkable writers concluded her career with her second-best work, having never quite reached the towering tippermost of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter again across her painfully short period of livingness. Set in Georgia in the 1950s, in the last gasp of segregation, Clock Without Hands humanises an ex-KKK judge, an egocentric yet amiable octogenarian besotted with his definitely gay grandson, completely oblivious to the poisonousness of his own vile racism. Whether you find the characters unlikely (as in the case of Sherman Pew), or somewhat wooden (the dying J.T. Malone), McCullers’s insights into the twiny muck of humanity are as powerful as in her other works, making this an underrated and compelling swansong....more
