If only I had been born a hundred years ago. Maybe two hundred. Sure, I'd probably have died at birth, seen my family wiped out by plague, contracted some disease we haven't even heard of today or been trampled by an elephant while performing my daring trapeze act in an Eastern European travelling circus BUT I also might have had the incredible fortune of being there when some of the great classics were first published. Assuming I was lucky enough to get an education and wasn't just sweeping chimneys or shovelling runny shit from ditches, you probably would have found me waiting in line for the latest Dostoevsky, Hugo, Austin, Dickens or Poe. Then I'd hand-press pamphlets with my opinions and run around the streets trying to get people to read them. That's how bloggers rolled back then. Alas, it just wasn't to be. Or was it?
2013 brought me the closest I think I will ever come to experiencing first hand the release of a book that is destined to be read as a classic well after I'm around to rave about it. It was a book so profoundly moving, so perfectly constructed, so enthralling, that I was in awe from the first line. At its most basic, The Infatuations by Javier Marias is a murder mystery. A woman obsesses over a couple she sees in a diner. She doesn't speak with them but feels she has some deep connection. One day she opens the paper to learn that the man has been killed. Marias uses this relatively simple premise to crack open the world as we know it. What he has to say about human nature, about the way in which society functions, about life and literature is something you'd expect to read from one of the greats of classical literature. With The Infatuations, I think he just might have joined them.
And so, Bookworms, this brings us to the end of another year. Wishing you and yours a great 2014 with many happy hours spent glued to any number of fantastic books.
Showing posts with label Best of 2013. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Best of 2013. Show all posts
2013: The Final Countdown
on Sunday, December 29, 2013
And so another year draws to an end. As always I leave behind a bunch of books I wish I'd read but just never had the time to yank from my shelf. One or two of them might have made this list. Apologies, then, to: Middle C by William H. Gass, Southern Cross The Dog by Bill Cheng, Wreaking by James Scudamore, Property by Rutu Modan, The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wecker and The Man With The Compound Eyes by Wu Ming-Yi. I'd also have liked to read The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt and Bleeding Edge by Thomas Pynchon. Oh well. Of the 90 or so books from 2013 that I read (as opposed to the other 65), these were my favourites.
THE TOP 10 OF 2013: FROM 10 TO 2
10. First Novel by Nicholas Royle. It starts as a reasonably conventional campus novel. Momentarily famous writer spends his days teaching and shagging students while trying to come up with his second novel. When a student hands in a story that might just be his life Royle shifts gears and gives us a brilliantly meta riff on identity, creation and psychosis. A highly literary Single White Female, if you will.
9. Goat Mountain by David Vann. After his last novel, Dirt, I was a little worried that Vann had run out of steam. Goat Mountain allayed that fear. Heart stopping tension when a family hunting trip turns murderous. Once again, the landscape is the real marvel, but the young boy, his father, grandfather and family friend traipsing around with a poacher's corpse makes for beautifully uncomfortable reading.
8. The Silence and The Roar by Nihad Sirees. A frightening glimpse into the suppression, exploitation and outright destruction of creativity under a dictatorial regime. After trying to help a student who has been bashed by the police, a young author is cast into bureaucratic purgatory. Kafka's nightmare vision made real.
7. It's a tie! Red Sky In Morning by Paul Lynch and Rivers by Michael Farris Smith. Two superb debuts, two harrowing reads. Red Sky In Morning might well be Ireland's answer to Blood Meridian. Brutality and injustice prevail when a good guy is forced to take terrible action. As for Rivers, no doubt JG Ballard would have been chuffed to write a dystopia as fully realised and utterly compelling as this. Can be read as a bloody ripping adventure or something far, far deeper.
6. The Devil's Workshop by Jachym Topol. Topol turns the whole Holocaust tourism concept on its head with this short, disturbing novel. A man who single handedly reinvigorated Theresienstadt is kidnapped by Belarusian operatives hell bent on making their forgotten camp into some sort of evil Disneyland. Hilarious, shocking with plenty of food for thought.
5. Carnival by Rawi Hage. Still can't make heads or tails of this completely disorientating thrill ride of a novel but I definitely know it's one of my favourites of the year. Modern life unfurled through the prism of a taxi driver cruising around town during the city's mysterious carnival.
4. Equilateral by Ken Kalfus. This whimsical tale of an hilariously madcap scheme to dig a giant equilateral triangle in the desert then light it to communicate with Mars has kept me smiling for around eight months now. Full of rich period detail and joyous storytelling, it is a ray of light in an otherwise rather dark Top 10.
3. Pink Mist by Owen Shears. I can't think of another poem (admittedly extended, and in prose form) that has ever moved me as profoundly as this. In the tradition of last year's magnificent novel Yellow Birds, Pink Mist is a searing indictment on the sheer horror and futility of war. Absolutely magnificent.
2. Harvest by Jim Crace. I have spent the last two days incessantly swapping first and second position on my list. Crace bows out of the writing game with one of the most staggering allegories of modern society ever produced. Xenophobia, selfishness, opportunism, injustice, baseless fear and hatred. It's all there in this literary mirror. Recoil in horror. The truth is very, very ugly. And yet Harvest is so beautifully executed, such a classic piece of storytelling that there is not even a hint of bitterness to Crace's pill.
THE TOP 10 OF 2013: FROM 10 TO 2
10. First Novel by Nicholas Royle. It starts as a reasonably conventional campus novel. Momentarily famous writer spends his days teaching and shagging students while trying to come up with his second novel. When a student hands in a story that might just be his life Royle shifts gears and gives us a brilliantly meta riff on identity, creation and psychosis. A highly literary Single White Female, if you will.
9. Goat Mountain by David Vann. After his last novel, Dirt, I was a little worried that Vann had run out of steam. Goat Mountain allayed that fear. Heart stopping tension when a family hunting trip turns murderous. Once again, the landscape is the real marvel, but the young boy, his father, grandfather and family friend traipsing around with a poacher's corpse makes for beautifully uncomfortable reading.
8. The Silence and The Roar by Nihad Sirees. A frightening glimpse into the suppression, exploitation and outright destruction of creativity under a dictatorial regime. After trying to help a student who has been bashed by the police, a young author is cast into bureaucratic purgatory. Kafka's nightmare vision made real.
7. It's a tie! Red Sky In Morning by Paul Lynch and Rivers by Michael Farris Smith. Two superb debuts, two harrowing reads. Red Sky In Morning might well be Ireland's answer to Blood Meridian. Brutality and injustice prevail when a good guy is forced to take terrible action. As for Rivers, no doubt JG Ballard would have been chuffed to write a dystopia as fully realised and utterly compelling as this. Can be read as a bloody ripping adventure or something far, far deeper.
6. The Devil's Workshop by Jachym Topol. Topol turns the whole Holocaust tourism concept on its head with this short, disturbing novel. A man who single handedly reinvigorated Theresienstadt is kidnapped by Belarusian operatives hell bent on making their forgotten camp into some sort of evil Disneyland. Hilarious, shocking with plenty of food for thought.
5. Carnival by Rawi Hage. Still can't make heads or tails of this completely disorientating thrill ride of a novel but I definitely know it's one of my favourites of the year. Modern life unfurled through the prism of a taxi driver cruising around town during the city's mysterious carnival.
4. Equilateral by Ken Kalfus. This whimsical tale of an hilariously madcap scheme to dig a giant equilateral triangle in the desert then light it to communicate with Mars has kept me smiling for around eight months now. Full of rich period detail and joyous storytelling, it is a ray of light in an otherwise rather dark Top 10.
3. Pink Mist by Owen Shears. I can't think of another poem (admittedly extended, and in prose form) that has ever moved me as profoundly as this. In the tradition of last year's magnificent novel Yellow Birds, Pink Mist is a searing indictment on the sheer horror and futility of war. Absolutely magnificent.
2. Harvest by Jim Crace. I have spent the last two days incessantly swapping first and second position on my list. Crace bows out of the writing game with one of the most staggering allegories of modern society ever produced. Xenophobia, selfishness, opportunism, injustice, baseless fear and hatred. It's all there in this literary mirror. Recoil in horror. The truth is very, very ugly. And yet Harvest is so beautifully executed, such a classic piece of storytelling that there is not even a hint of bitterness to Crace's pill.
2013: The Shelf Of Shame
on Monday, December 23, 2013
Strap on your gumboots and wade with me into the muck. It's time to unblock this year's literary toilet.
MOST OVERRATED BOOKS OF 2013
Do you ever get the feeling that reviewers are just trolling us? These three books certainly made me think so:
All That Is - James Salter: Once upon a time this really old guy wrote a reasonably interesting book about a returned soldier's very ordinary post-war life. Everyone was so amazed that he could manoeuvre a pen in his arthritic fingers that they hailed it as a masterpiece. It wasn't. And they all lived deluded ever after.
Tenth of December - George Saunders: Is there a bigger darling of the literary set right now than George Saunders? The guy can fart in a jar and people will flock from every corner of the earth to take a whiff. Don't believe me? Read Tenth of December. A couple of great stories but, otherwise, a lot of gas.
The Ocean At the End of the Lane - Neil Gaiman: Kudos to Amanda Palmer. Having killed her husband in some vampyric ritual, she has managed to convince the world that the zombie-like husk with the Eraserhead hairdo that she trots out in public from time to time is the greatly loved fantasist and comic book legend. That's really the only way I can explain this humdrum, cliched fable. As for its critical reception? Witch! Witch! Burn her at the stake!
BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENTS OF 2013
We Litnerds are an excitable bunch. Promise us something new from someone we love and you'll have us selling our mums to get our hands on a copy. I hereby apologise to my mum for trading her for the following:
The Quarry - Iain Banks. When an author you once loved dies just before the release of his final book, you hope against hope that it will be a fitting swansong. The Quarry came with all kinds of 'return to form' buzz. To a certain extent it was justified. The Quarry was a return to the disappointing form that had plagued Banks since 1995's Complicity. At least I'll always have The Bridge.
TransAtlantic - Colum McCann. Having written a true modern masterpiece with Let The Great World Spin, it seems McCann tried to recreate the same magic using a similar formula (disparate narrative strings flying out in all directions before coming together to reveal a spectacular tapestry). Unfortunately, TransAtlantic never really took flight. Without the passion, anger, wonder or whimsy of his previous work, it just felt like McCann was going through the motions. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get into it.
Born Weird - Andrew Kaufman. Died disappointed.
FLAT OUT WORST BOOK OF 2013
I want to dig up Vladimir Nabokov, hand him to Amanda Palmer for reanimation, and set his flesh eating zombie on anyone who dared compare Alissa Nutting's truly awful novel Tampa to Lolita. He can start by ripping the brains out of the buzz-makers who promised us the most daring story written in years. Then he can move on to the reviewers who hailed Nutting's ability to get into the mind of Celeste, the young, female predator telling this crock of a story. Next up the bloggers, podcasters... hell, it's Nabokov. He can eat whoever the fuck he likes. How this book got serious traction absolutely astonishes me. The concept is not original - it was done before (and far better) by both Eleanor Catton and Zoe Heller. Nor is it daring or insightful. Rather, Tampa is cheap and tawdry erotic fan fiction, with plot holes so big you could fit an entire football field of teenage penises through it. Now would someone please pass me a shovel?
MOST OVERRATED BOOKS OF 2013
Do you ever get the feeling that reviewers are just trolling us? These three books certainly made me think so:
All That Is - James Salter: Once upon a time this really old guy wrote a reasonably interesting book about a returned soldier's very ordinary post-war life. Everyone was so amazed that he could manoeuvre a pen in his arthritic fingers that they hailed it as a masterpiece. It wasn't. And they all lived deluded ever after.
Tenth of December - George Saunders: Is there a bigger darling of the literary set right now than George Saunders? The guy can fart in a jar and people will flock from every corner of the earth to take a whiff. Don't believe me? Read Tenth of December. A couple of great stories but, otherwise, a lot of gas.
The Ocean At the End of the Lane - Neil Gaiman: Kudos to Amanda Palmer. Having killed her husband in some vampyric ritual, she has managed to convince the world that the zombie-like husk with the Eraserhead hairdo that she trots out in public from time to time is the greatly loved fantasist and comic book legend. That's really the only way I can explain this humdrum, cliched fable. As for its critical reception? Witch! Witch! Burn her at the stake!
BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENTS OF 2013
We Litnerds are an excitable bunch. Promise us something new from someone we love and you'll have us selling our mums to get our hands on a copy. I hereby apologise to my mum for trading her for the following:
The Quarry - Iain Banks. When an author you once loved dies just before the release of his final book, you hope against hope that it will be a fitting swansong. The Quarry came with all kinds of 'return to form' buzz. To a certain extent it was justified. The Quarry was a return to the disappointing form that had plagued Banks since 1995's Complicity. At least I'll always have The Bridge.
TransAtlantic - Colum McCann. Having written a true modern masterpiece with Let The Great World Spin, it seems McCann tried to recreate the same magic using a similar formula (disparate narrative strings flying out in all directions before coming together to reveal a spectacular tapestry). Unfortunately, TransAtlantic never really took flight. Without the passion, anger, wonder or whimsy of his previous work, it just felt like McCann was going through the motions. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get into it.
Born Weird - Andrew Kaufman. Died disappointed.
FLAT OUT WORST BOOK OF 2013
I want to dig up Vladimir Nabokov, hand him to Amanda Palmer for reanimation, and set his flesh eating zombie on anyone who dared compare Alissa Nutting's truly awful novel Tampa to Lolita. He can start by ripping the brains out of the buzz-makers who promised us the most daring story written in years. Then he can move on to the reviewers who hailed Nutting's ability to get into the mind of Celeste, the young, female predator telling this crock of a story. Next up the bloggers, podcasters... hell, it's Nabokov. He can eat whoever the fuck he likes. How this book got serious traction absolutely astonishes me. The concept is not original - it was done before (and far better) by both Eleanor Catton and Zoe Heller. Nor is it daring or insightful. Rather, Tampa is cheap and tawdry erotic fan fiction, with plot holes so big you could fit an entire football field of teenage penises through it. Now would someone please pass me a shovel?
2013: Secondary Stars and Other Satellites
on Saturday, December 21, 2013
And so another year is drawing to an end which, as usual, has meant I've been spending the last few days frantically cramming in as many books as possible before compiling my Top 10. Cramageddon was a flop in November, but right now it's going gangbusters. So, once again, here I am buying time with the best of everything that wasn't a book published in 2013.
DISCOVERY OF THE YEAR
Every couple of years I stumble across a new writer who so captures my reading heart that I feel compelled to robe up, spend a few weeks in the desert then come back and proselytise about them from a milk carton on every street corner I can possibly find. So listen up, converts-in-waiting. I'm here to share the word of Goncalo G. Tavares. Whether you start with the experimental whimsy of The Neighbourhood, the meta noir of Jerusalem, the cold comeuppance of Learning To Pray In The Age of Technique or the ingenious absurdity of Joseph Walser's Machine, I can almost guarantee that you'll heed the calling. Not since Jesse Ball have I found an author who so seamlessly blends serious literary depth, intellectual gymnastics and pure narrative fun.
Honourable Mentions: David Vogel and Pascal Garnier
BEST BOOKS NOT FROM 2012
Mr. Theodore Mundstock - Ladislav Fuks (1963): An old Czech Jew learns what's in store for the those being deported east so turns his apartment into a concentration camp to help acclimatise. A profoundly disturbing comic masterpiece.
Joseph Walser's Machine - Goncalo M. Tavares (2004): It was hard to choose between Tavares's four books available in English but there's something about Joseph Walser's Machine that manages to lift it ever so slightly above the rest. A cog-in-the-machine everyman rebels against his daily routine with some rather unsettling results.
Dolly City - Orly Castel-Bloom (1991): Wildly imaginative riff on the peace process told via a batshit crazy doctor trying to immunise her baby (one she stole, mind you) against every imaginable illness. Just extraordinary.
The A26 - Pascal Garnier (1999): Crime fiction doesn't get better than this masterpiece of amorality. Having been diagnosed with terminal cancer, Bernard finds himself free from society's shackles. What follows can only be described as a rampage of depravity.
Viennese Romance - David Vogel (1937): Echoes of Hermann Ungar's brilliant novel The Maimed in this story of a young man who rents a room in a house only to be crushed by the landlady's amorous obsession.
Special Mentions: I have deliberately chosen not to include recent rereads but it would be wrong not to give mad props to Cats Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, Trieste by Dasa Drndic, The Complete MAUS by Art Speigleman and Life With A Star by Jiri Weil.
PODCASTS TO CONQUER THE BOREDOM OF CROSS CITY DRIVING
Nothing new here. Still loving Michael Silverblat's KCRW Bookworm, Judge John Hodgman and BBC's A Good Read.
THE SOUNDTRACK TO MY DOWNTIME
2013 will go down as a great year in music. Sure, there were some stinkers from Avenged Sevenfold, Black Flag and Elvis Costello. There were also way too many decent-but-unremarkable comeback albums from the likes of Black Sabbath, AFI, David Bowie, Manic Street Preachers, Placebo and The Dismemberment Plan (though Daddy Was A Real Good Dancer is one of my favourite songs of the year). But other than those little hiccups, this really was a stellar year... so, stellar that I've really struggled to distill a top 10. Heck, I've even had to jettison albums I really liked by Future of the Left, Dog Party, Vampire Weekend, Old Man Markley and Franz Ferdinand. Oh well. Time to play fast and loose with the definition of the word "ten" again. Here's all 13 albums of my Top 10 of 2013:
13. The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You by Neko Case: Poetic, complex and completely mesmerising. The title has already taken up my allotted words for this entry.
12. Perhaps You'll Deliver This Judgement With Greater Fear Than I Receive It by Crusades: If The Misfits were born into a world of melodic hardcore, they'd sound an awful lot like Crusades. But this isn't some lame schlock horror fest. Crusades mean serious business with their politically-charged, satanist-tinged sonic barrage.
11. The Hands That Thieve by Streetlight Manifesto: Ok, the songs are too long but there's no denying the catchy brilliance of SM's long-awaited return. Speedy ska punk joy.
10. Safety Net by Mad Choice. Blink and you'll miss this super fast skate punk punch in the face. A glorious throwback to the early days of the movement.
9. Infestissumam by Ghost: Picture, if you will, Pete Steele of Type O Negative in a sacrificial orgy with the monks from Enigma. Nine months later, my clear biological ignorance notwithstanding, this is what you'd get.
8. Adult Film by Tim Kasher: By now you know what to expect from the strange bird that is Cursive's frontman. What you probably don't expect is for it to still be this bloody good. Probably the best thing he's done since Happy Hollow.
7. Role Model by Bodyjar: Bands wanting to stage a comeback, take note. This is how it's done. Australian 90s punk legends Bodyjar stormed back with a reminder of everything that made them so great. Forty-year-old men in board shorts? Bring it on!
6. Hungry Ghost by Violent Soho. Brisbane is the new Seattle if this incredibly vibrant grunge record is anything to go by. In under an hour they manage to completely reinvigorate a genre that was ended, quite literally, with a bullet.
5. Anthems by Pure Love: I was never a great Gallows fan, but Frank Carter shows he can rock like few others with this hook laden gem. Brimming with passion and purpose, it is great song after great song after great song. As for Gallows, well, if you'll pardon the pun, he seems to have left them hanging.
4. IV by The Bronx: RAAWWWWK. The Bronx very seldom disappoint but even I wasn't expecting something this awesome. From the outset, IV grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go til long after the music has ended.
3. FIDLAR by FIDLAR: It took seeing them live for me to be sucked into the world of FIDLAR but, once I was there, there was no going back. Surfy garage punk at its most fun and urgent. And while it might not have come from the best song on the album (that goes to No Waves), was there a better chant this year than "I drink cheap beer. So what? Fuck you!"?
2. Unkind by After The Fall. The problem with writing a perfect album so early in your career is that you risk spending the rest of your days chasing your tail. Such was the plight of After The Fall and their sophomore record Fort Orange. After a disappointing EP and album ATF have not only caught up with their tail but wholeheartedly chomped it off with this perfect marriage of ferocity, heart and melody.
1. True North by Bad Religion: I had all but given up on Bad Religion. Sure, I've enjoyed the odd song here and there off their last few records but, by all indication, they had become old men going through the motions, a sad shell of the legends that gave us No Control and Suffer. Seeing them live last year only served to confirm my fears. Well, blow me over with half an hour of punk rock perfection. I should be whipped with nettles for ever doubting. True North is the sound of a band rediscovering what they first set out to do as teenagers. Almost eleven months after it was released it remains urgent, intelligent, and catchy as hell. It also remains my album of the year. Let's just not mention the godawful Christmas Songs record they recently pooped on our heads.
MOMENTARY LAPSES OF HERMITUDE: BEST LIVE SHOWS 2013
2013 was also the year I finally got out and started seeing live music again. There were quite a few great shows but three stood out.
FIDLAR at The Corner Hotel. I didn't really know the band. I only went because a friend had a spare ticket. Holy shit. It was a transformative experience. As I tried to hoist my jaw from the beer stained carpet I came to know what it must have felt like to watch Nirvana in their early Bleach days.
Good Riddance/ A Wilhelm Scream/ The Flatliners at The East Bunswick Club. To have only seen the reformed Good Riddance would have made my year. But to see two other great bands... well that was just delicious, delicious icing.
Useless ID/ The Decline at The Workers Club. It was a cold, miserable Melbourne night but you wouldn't have known it at The Worker's Club. First up, a couple of awesome sets from local supports Declaration and Up And Atom. Then Perth punk superheroes The Decline tore the room a new one. And, to top it off, Israeli pita punkers Useless ID reminded us all what we'd been missing since they last toured here seven years ago. One of the best nights out I had all year.
DISCOVERY OF THE YEAR
Every couple of years I stumble across a new writer who so captures my reading heart that I feel compelled to robe up, spend a few weeks in the desert then come back and proselytise about them from a milk carton on every street corner I can possibly find. So listen up, converts-in-waiting. I'm here to share the word of Goncalo G. Tavares. Whether you start with the experimental whimsy of The Neighbourhood, the meta noir of Jerusalem, the cold comeuppance of Learning To Pray In The Age of Technique or the ingenious absurdity of Joseph Walser's Machine, I can almost guarantee that you'll heed the calling. Not since Jesse Ball have I found an author who so seamlessly blends serious literary depth, intellectual gymnastics and pure narrative fun.
Honourable Mentions: David Vogel and Pascal Garnier
BEST BOOKS NOT FROM 2012
Mr. Theodore Mundstock - Ladislav Fuks (1963): An old Czech Jew learns what's in store for the those being deported east so turns his apartment into a concentration camp to help acclimatise. A profoundly disturbing comic masterpiece.
Joseph Walser's Machine - Goncalo M. Tavares (2004): It was hard to choose between Tavares's four books available in English but there's something about Joseph Walser's Machine that manages to lift it ever so slightly above the rest. A cog-in-the-machine everyman rebels against his daily routine with some rather unsettling results.
Dolly City - Orly Castel-Bloom (1991): Wildly imaginative riff on the peace process told via a batshit crazy doctor trying to immunise her baby (one she stole, mind you) against every imaginable illness. Just extraordinary.
The A26 - Pascal Garnier (1999): Crime fiction doesn't get better than this masterpiece of amorality. Having been diagnosed with terminal cancer, Bernard finds himself free from society's shackles. What follows can only be described as a rampage of depravity.
Viennese Romance - David Vogel (1937): Echoes of Hermann Ungar's brilliant novel The Maimed in this story of a young man who rents a room in a house only to be crushed by the landlady's amorous obsession.
Special Mentions: I have deliberately chosen not to include recent rereads but it would be wrong not to give mad props to Cats Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, Trieste by Dasa Drndic, The Complete MAUS by Art Speigleman and Life With A Star by Jiri Weil.
PODCASTS TO CONQUER THE BOREDOM OF CROSS CITY DRIVING
Nothing new here. Still loving Michael Silverblat's KCRW Bookworm, Judge John Hodgman and BBC's A Good Read.
THE SOUNDTRACK TO MY DOWNTIME
2013 will go down as a great year in music. Sure, there were some stinkers from Avenged Sevenfold, Black Flag and Elvis Costello. There were also way too many decent-but-unremarkable comeback albums from the likes of Black Sabbath, AFI, David Bowie, Manic Street Preachers, Placebo and The Dismemberment Plan (though Daddy Was A Real Good Dancer is one of my favourite songs of the year). But other than those little hiccups, this really was a stellar year... so, stellar that I've really struggled to distill a top 10. Heck, I've even had to jettison albums I really liked by Future of the Left, Dog Party, Vampire Weekend, Old Man Markley and Franz Ferdinand. Oh well. Time to play fast and loose with the definition of the word "ten" again. Here's all 13 albums of my Top 10 of 2013:
13. The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You by Neko Case: Poetic, complex and completely mesmerising. The title has already taken up my allotted words for this entry.
12. Perhaps You'll Deliver This Judgement With Greater Fear Than I Receive It by Crusades: If The Misfits were born into a world of melodic hardcore, they'd sound an awful lot like Crusades. But this isn't some lame schlock horror fest. Crusades mean serious business with their politically-charged, satanist-tinged sonic barrage.
11. The Hands That Thieve by Streetlight Manifesto: Ok, the songs are too long but there's no denying the catchy brilliance of SM's long-awaited return. Speedy ska punk joy.
10. Safety Net by Mad Choice. Blink and you'll miss this super fast skate punk punch in the face. A glorious throwback to the early days of the movement.
9. Infestissumam by Ghost: Picture, if you will, Pete Steele of Type O Negative in a sacrificial orgy with the monks from Enigma. Nine months later, my clear biological ignorance notwithstanding, this is what you'd get.
8. Adult Film by Tim Kasher: By now you know what to expect from the strange bird that is Cursive's frontman. What you probably don't expect is for it to still be this bloody good. Probably the best thing he's done since Happy Hollow.
7. Role Model by Bodyjar: Bands wanting to stage a comeback, take note. This is how it's done. Australian 90s punk legends Bodyjar stormed back with a reminder of everything that made them so great. Forty-year-old men in board shorts? Bring it on!
6. Hungry Ghost by Violent Soho. Brisbane is the new Seattle if this incredibly vibrant grunge record is anything to go by. In under an hour they manage to completely reinvigorate a genre that was ended, quite literally, with a bullet.
5. Anthems by Pure Love: I was never a great Gallows fan, but Frank Carter shows he can rock like few others with this hook laden gem. Brimming with passion and purpose, it is great song after great song after great song. As for Gallows, well, if you'll pardon the pun, he seems to have left them hanging.
4. IV by The Bronx: RAAWWWWK. The Bronx very seldom disappoint but even I wasn't expecting something this awesome. From the outset, IV grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go til long after the music has ended.
3. FIDLAR by FIDLAR: It took seeing them live for me to be sucked into the world of FIDLAR but, once I was there, there was no going back. Surfy garage punk at its most fun and urgent. And while it might not have come from the best song on the album (that goes to No Waves), was there a better chant this year than "I drink cheap beer. So what? Fuck you!"?
2. Unkind by After The Fall. The problem with writing a perfect album so early in your career is that you risk spending the rest of your days chasing your tail. Such was the plight of After The Fall and their sophomore record Fort Orange. After a disappointing EP and album ATF have not only caught up with their tail but wholeheartedly chomped it off with this perfect marriage of ferocity, heart and melody.
1. True North by Bad Religion: I had all but given up on Bad Religion. Sure, I've enjoyed the odd song here and there off their last few records but, by all indication, they had become old men going through the motions, a sad shell of the legends that gave us No Control and Suffer. Seeing them live last year only served to confirm my fears. Well, blow me over with half an hour of punk rock perfection. I should be whipped with nettles for ever doubting. True North is the sound of a band rediscovering what they first set out to do as teenagers. Almost eleven months after it was released it remains urgent, intelligent, and catchy as hell. It also remains my album of the year. Let's just not mention the godawful Christmas Songs record they recently pooped on our heads.
MOMENTARY LAPSES OF HERMITUDE: BEST LIVE SHOWS 2013
2013 was also the year I finally got out and started seeing live music again. There were quite a few great shows but three stood out.
FIDLAR at The Corner Hotel. I didn't really know the band. I only went because a friend had a spare ticket. Holy shit. It was a transformative experience. As I tried to hoist my jaw from the beer stained carpet I came to know what it must have felt like to watch Nirvana in their early Bleach days.
Good Riddance/ A Wilhelm Scream/ The Flatliners at The East Bunswick Club. To have only seen the reformed Good Riddance would have made my year. But to see two other great bands... well that was just delicious, delicious icing.
Useless ID/ The Decline at The Workers Club. It was a cold, miserable Melbourne night but you wouldn't have known it at The Worker's Club. First up, a couple of awesome sets from local supports Declaration and Up And Atom. Then Perth punk superheroes The Decline tore the room a new one. And, to top it off, Israeli pita punkers Useless ID reminded us all what we'd been missing since they last toured here seven years ago. One of the best nights out I had all year.
2013: A Short List of Lists
on Thursday, December 12, 2013
Calm down 2014. No need to show off just yet. Yes, yes. We all know you are bringing us tasty delights from E. L. Doctorow, Jesse Ball and Robert Coover but for know stop your silly cartwheels and let 2013 have its last gasp of stardom. Holy crap. I'm talking to a concept. It really must be December. Ok, before I go completely nuts here's the rundown of how it's going to play out:
Saturday December 21: Secondary Stars and Other Satellites
Monday December 23: The Shelf of Shame
Thursday December 26: The Best of Bridesmaids
Sunday December 29: The Final Countdown
Tuesday December 31: Book Of The Year
Long time Bookworms will note my lack of a New Year's Aspiration scorecard this time round. Well, I only made one: To review every book I read. And God knows how but I did it. Of the many things I could say, I'll leave it at this: What the hell was I thinking???
Saturday December 21: Secondary Stars and Other Satellites
Monday December 23: The Shelf of Shame
Thursday December 26: The Best of Bridesmaids
Sunday December 29: The Final Countdown
Tuesday December 31: Book Of The Year
Long time Bookworms will note my lack of a New Year's Aspiration scorecard this time round. Well, I only made one: To review every book I read. And God knows how but I did it. Of the many things I could say, I'll leave it at this: What the hell was I thinking???
Premature Congratulations: What's With All The "Best Of" Lists?
on Monday, November 25, 2013
Knock knock...
Hello?
Anyone in book world listening?
Here we are at the tail end of November and there's a sudden influx of Best Of 2013 lists. The Guardian just did their annual survey of authors. Goodreads has its poll running. Both Barnes and Noble and Amazon have already started flogging their picks in anticipation of the Christmas shopping rush. Even semi-respectable rags like Huffington Post and Publishers Weekly have blown their literary loads (and seriously, PW, Mohsin Hamid??? Did you even read that thing?).
HAVE YOU ALL GONE MAD?
There are still five weeks left. That's five weeks of reading all those books released this year that you have not yet had the chance to read. Best Of lists are for December. The last week of December, to be precise. Nobody wants to see your Best Of lists before that.
Grumble grumble.
Hello?
Anyone in book world listening?
Here we are at the tail end of November and there's a sudden influx of Best Of 2013 lists. The Guardian just did their annual survey of authors. Goodreads has its poll running. Both Barnes and Noble and Amazon have already started flogging their picks in anticipation of the Christmas shopping rush. Even semi-respectable rags like Huffington Post and Publishers Weekly have blown their literary loads (and seriously, PW, Mohsin Hamid??? Did you even read that thing?).
HAVE YOU ALL GONE MAD?
There are still five weeks left. That's five weeks of reading all those books released this year that you have not yet had the chance to read. Best Of lists are for December. The last week of December, to be precise. Nobody wants to see your Best Of lists before that.
Grumble grumble.
Eleanor Catton: Booker's Latest Luminary
on Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Last night I had a weird dream in which I read (in a newspaper of all things) that Jhumpa Lahiri had won the Booker Prize. I wasn't surprised. Nor was I disappointed. Can't say I was particularly excited, though. Fast forward to a few minutes ago when I woke up in time for the announcement and sat glued to Twitter because the Booker website had pretty much crashed. While waiting for the all-knowing blue spot to show up in the feed, I had all my fingers, toes and superfluous digits crossed that it would go to either Jim Crace or Eleanor Catton.
Well, it must have been that third ear, because Eleanor Catton has bagged herself a Booker for The Luminaries and, in doing so, injected some much needed excitement into a prize that is struggling for oxygen in an overcrowded field. It is a bold move, one sure to upset the fuddy duddies (who, I think, were rooting for either Crace or Toibin - both of who wrote very worthy books) and an hilarious middle finger to the whinging minions that keep harping on about the brevity of many Booker contenders (or winners). Oh, and she's the youngest winner ever too!
Before you run to your e-readers, a thought. I understand your concern. At 800 pages, The Luminaries is darn heavy. But, let me assure you, it's worth it. I carried the thing onto a plane last month and read it in a single sitting. It's that good (and fun, and eminently readable). If you go the e-route, you will miss out on the sheer joy of watching the physical progress of reading such a mammoth work, feeling the weight shift from one side to the other as you plough through. Go out and buy the bloody thing. In hardcover if you can. It's the sort of old-fashioned tale that deserves to be experienced on paper. Plus you get the added bonus of its lovely presence on your bookshelf for years to come so that you can remember the time you climbed book Everest with a young, cool and incredibly talented New Zealand sherpa as your guide.
And that, dear Bookworms, almost wraps up literary prize silly season. For once, it's looking like I'll be able to bid it a fond farewell with two great recipients for my two favourite prizes thus far. And if Jhumpa Lahiri, Rachel Kushner or James McBride wins the National Book Award, literary nirvana will be achieved. Better go buy some incense.
Well, it must have been that third ear, because Eleanor Catton has bagged herself a Booker for The Luminaries and, in doing so, injected some much needed excitement into a prize that is struggling for oxygen in an overcrowded field. It is a bold move, one sure to upset the fuddy duddies (who, I think, were rooting for either Crace or Toibin - both of who wrote very worthy books) and an hilarious middle finger to the whinging minions that keep harping on about the brevity of many Booker contenders (or winners). Oh, and she's the youngest winner ever too!
Before you run to your e-readers, a thought. I understand your concern. At 800 pages, The Luminaries is darn heavy. But, let me assure you, it's worth it. I carried the thing onto a plane last month and read it in a single sitting. It's that good (and fun, and eminently readable). If you go the e-route, you will miss out on the sheer joy of watching the physical progress of reading such a mammoth work, feeling the weight shift from one side to the other as you plough through. Go out and buy the bloody thing. In hardcover if you can. It's the sort of old-fashioned tale that deserves to be experienced on paper. Plus you get the added bonus of its lovely presence on your bookshelf for years to come so that you can remember the time you climbed book Everest with a young, cool and incredibly talented New Zealand sherpa as your guide.
And that, dear Bookworms, almost wraps up literary prize silly season. For once, it's looking like I'll be able to bid it a fond farewell with two great recipients for my two favourite prizes thus far. And if Jhumpa Lahiri, Rachel Kushner or James McBride wins the National Book Award, literary nirvana will be achieved. Better go buy some incense.
Booker Prize 2013: A Wildly Unreliable Last Minute Form Guide
on Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Ok punters, get ready! They're in the home stretch. With less than twenty-four hours to go here's how the Booker race is shaping up.
Harvest by Jim Crace
What the Bookie says: 11/8
What I said: "Crace lays bare the darkest corners of human existence and shows its ultimate futility in the face of progress... a definite contender for Book of the Year." (Microviews 27)
The Final Pitch: Seven months after reading it, Harvest remains one of my favourite books of the year. It is literary fiction in the grand old fashion and yet it possesses a certain allegorical prescience that keeps it feeling thoroughly modern and relevant. In any other year, Crace could rock up to the Booker dinner with a box of popcorn, sit down with his feet on the table and munch away until his name was called. Alas, with such a strong group of contenders, he'd better polish up on his table manners and fake smile because this is anything but a sure bet.
The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton
What the Bookie says: 11/4
What I said: "... a rich, rollicking tale that can be enjoyed by casual readers and Litsnobs alike." (Microviews 40)
The Final Pitch: A fun, exciting and deftly woven brick of a book, The Luminaries is the work of a young writer in perfect command of her craft. But then again, that was already evident in her debut, The Rehearsal (a book that, when I read it, I had hoped would get a Booker nod). I'm glad the literary establishment has caught on. Eleanor Catton is the kind of writer that ought to be championed. As for her chances, it would certainly be a shot of adrenaline into a fairly stagnant enterprise and, given the recent moves to make the Booker less parochial, not an overly unlikely one. Whatever the outcome, Catton can rest easy - she may not win it this time, but she will almost certainly win it.
The Testament of Mary by Colm Toibin
What the Bookie says: 4/1
What I said: "There's no Judas, no Last Supper, not even an Immaculate Conception to be found in Toibin's sober retelling of the Jesus story." (Microviews 27)
The Final Pitch: They copped it when McEwan won for Amsterdam. They copped it even worse when they gave it to Barnes for The Sense Of An Ending. Are they willing to weather the barrage of irate snobs lobbing hardcover copies of War and Peace from their crystal palaces by awarding one of the most prestigious literary prizes to a relative pamphlet? On merit alone, The Testament of Mary is a worthy candidate. It's a masterful act of biblical ventriloquism that, I dare say, may well have been diluted by unnecessary verbal wanderings. Like Harvest, it is one of the best things I've read this year. But it is only a hundred pages.
A Tale For The Time Being by Ruth Ozecki
What the Bookie says: 8/1
What I said: "... a fascinating thought experiment, but had Ozecki just stuck to telling Nao's story, it would have made for a much more satisfying book." (Microviews 41)
The Final Pitch: My affection for Ozecki's book has waned in the month or so since reading it. It's not that I don't like it or wasn't moved by Nao's heartbreaking story, it's just that A Tale For The Time Being has disappeared into the ether of pretty good books I've read. Of all the books on the shortlist, this is the one I think stands the least chance. It just lacks a certain je ne sais pas. That said, it is still in there with a chance and, given my history of predicting these things, will probably win.
We Need New Names by NoViolet Bulawayo
What the Bookie says: 9/1
What I said: "Lesser works than this have won the Booker Prize. But then again, so have much greater." (Microviews 41)
The Final Pitch: If a single chapter could win the Booker Prize, then Bulawayo would be a dead set certainty. I have been raving about those ten or so pages to anyone unfortunate enough to be standing within hearing distance for the past five weeks. I will continue to do so long after the big dinner has come and gone. Alas, one passage does not a winner make.
The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri
What the Bookie says: 9/1
What I said: "... a beautifully balanced endeavour, tender yet angry and, perhaps of particular note, unadorned by literary tricks or grandstanding." (Microviews 42)
The Final Pitch: I don't know why this is so low on the punters' list. Perhaps it is because The Lowland is the most conventional narrative. Or maybe it's a backlash of sorts against the opening of the prize to American authors which, let's face it, Lahiri really is. Whatever the reason, people are idiots. I actually think she's in with a very good chance. Indeed, if I was a betting man who hadn't already lost more money than he'd care to admit on this prize, I'd actually put a few quid on her. With a Pulitzer in the bag and a National Book Award in the offing, I'd even chuck a dollar or two on the trifecta.
The Bookworm's Bet: Not that I have any form whatsoever in getting these things right, but I'd have to say Jim Crace will most likely win it this year. He very much deserves to. That said, I won't be quite as embarrassed as before if I get it wrong because this is the strongest field of shortlisted novels in recent memory. There's not a single book that can't stand proudly among the list of previous winners (although a couple might stand a bit closer to Vernon God Little than Midnight's Children). I'd love to see it go to Eleanor Catton - her blend of youth, extraordinary talent, fierce intelligence and (if the reports are to be believed) all round decency are exactly what the book world needs right now. And she's made it easy for us by writing a marvellous novel in The Luminaries. Similarly, a win for Colm Toibin would be a nice cat amongst the pigeons for the snobby establishment, not to mention the dogmatic god botherers in the audience. So those are my three picks in order: Crace, Catton and Toibin. Hopefully I don't prove to be the kiss of death again. I really want one of them to win it. I'll round out the bottom half as well: Lahiri, Bulawayo and Ozecki. You know what that means, right? Rush into your local Bookie and put your house on A Tale for The Time Being.
Harvest by Jim Crace
What the Bookie says: 11/8
What I said: "Crace lays bare the darkest corners of human existence and shows its ultimate futility in the face of progress... a definite contender for Book of the Year." (Microviews 27)
The Final Pitch: Seven months after reading it, Harvest remains one of my favourite books of the year. It is literary fiction in the grand old fashion and yet it possesses a certain allegorical prescience that keeps it feeling thoroughly modern and relevant. In any other year, Crace could rock up to the Booker dinner with a box of popcorn, sit down with his feet on the table and munch away until his name was called. Alas, with such a strong group of contenders, he'd better polish up on his table manners and fake smile because this is anything but a sure bet.
The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton
What the Bookie says: 11/4
What I said: "... a rich, rollicking tale that can be enjoyed by casual readers and Litsnobs alike." (Microviews 40)
The Final Pitch: A fun, exciting and deftly woven brick of a book, The Luminaries is the work of a young writer in perfect command of her craft. But then again, that was already evident in her debut, The Rehearsal (a book that, when I read it, I had hoped would get a Booker nod). I'm glad the literary establishment has caught on. Eleanor Catton is the kind of writer that ought to be championed. As for her chances, it would certainly be a shot of adrenaline into a fairly stagnant enterprise and, given the recent moves to make the Booker less parochial, not an overly unlikely one. Whatever the outcome, Catton can rest easy - she may not win it this time, but she will almost certainly win it.
The Testament of Mary by Colm Toibin
What the Bookie says: 4/1
What I said: "There's no Judas, no Last Supper, not even an Immaculate Conception to be found in Toibin's sober retelling of the Jesus story." (Microviews 27)
The Final Pitch: They copped it when McEwan won for Amsterdam. They copped it even worse when they gave it to Barnes for The Sense Of An Ending. Are they willing to weather the barrage of irate snobs lobbing hardcover copies of War and Peace from their crystal palaces by awarding one of the most prestigious literary prizes to a relative pamphlet? On merit alone, The Testament of Mary is a worthy candidate. It's a masterful act of biblical ventriloquism that, I dare say, may well have been diluted by unnecessary verbal wanderings. Like Harvest, it is one of the best things I've read this year. But it is only a hundred pages.
A Tale For The Time Being by Ruth Ozecki
What the Bookie says: 8/1
What I said: "... a fascinating thought experiment, but had Ozecki just stuck to telling Nao's story, it would have made for a much more satisfying book." (Microviews 41)
The Final Pitch: My affection for Ozecki's book has waned in the month or so since reading it. It's not that I don't like it or wasn't moved by Nao's heartbreaking story, it's just that A Tale For The Time Being has disappeared into the ether of pretty good books I've read. Of all the books on the shortlist, this is the one I think stands the least chance. It just lacks a certain je ne sais pas. That said, it is still in there with a chance and, given my history of predicting these things, will probably win.
We Need New Names by NoViolet Bulawayo
What the Bookie says: 9/1
What I said: "Lesser works than this have won the Booker Prize. But then again, so have much greater." (Microviews 41)
The Final Pitch: If a single chapter could win the Booker Prize, then Bulawayo would be a dead set certainty. I have been raving about those ten or so pages to anyone unfortunate enough to be standing within hearing distance for the past five weeks. I will continue to do so long after the big dinner has come and gone. Alas, one passage does not a winner make.
The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri
What the Bookie says: 9/1
What I said: "... a beautifully balanced endeavour, tender yet angry and, perhaps of particular note, unadorned by literary tricks or grandstanding." (Microviews 42)
The Final Pitch: I don't know why this is so low on the punters' list. Perhaps it is because The Lowland is the most conventional narrative. Or maybe it's a backlash of sorts against the opening of the prize to American authors which, let's face it, Lahiri really is. Whatever the reason, people are idiots. I actually think she's in with a very good chance. Indeed, if I was a betting man who hadn't already lost more money than he'd care to admit on this prize, I'd actually put a few quid on her. With a Pulitzer in the bag and a National Book Award in the offing, I'd even chuck a dollar or two on the trifecta.
The Bookworm's Bet: Not that I have any form whatsoever in getting these things right, but I'd have to say Jim Crace will most likely win it this year. He very much deserves to. That said, I won't be quite as embarrassed as before if I get it wrong because this is the strongest field of shortlisted novels in recent memory. There's not a single book that can't stand proudly among the list of previous winners (although a couple might stand a bit closer to Vernon God Little than Midnight's Children). I'd love to see it go to Eleanor Catton - her blend of youth, extraordinary talent, fierce intelligence and (if the reports are to be believed) all round decency are exactly what the book world needs right now. And she's made it easy for us by writing a marvellous novel in The Luminaries. Similarly, a win for Colm Toibin would be a nice cat amongst the pigeons for the snobby establishment, not to mention the dogmatic god botherers in the audience. So those are my three picks in order: Crace, Catton and Toibin. Hopefully I don't prove to be the kiss of death again. I really want one of them to win it. I'll round out the bottom half as well: Lahiri, Bulawayo and Ozecki. You know what that means, right? Rush into your local Bookie and put your house on A Tale for The Time Being.
2013: The Mid-Year Report
on Monday, July 1, 2013
A lack of New Years Resolutions means I can keep this nice and short. I've kept to the one I did make - review every book I read. That means 80 reviews done and dusted (I've actually read 81 books, but one is embargoed until October so you'll just have to wait). Of those, three got the full treatment (J.M. Coetzee's The Childhood Of Jesus, Javier Marias's The Infatuations and Iain Banks's final novel, The Quarry) while the rest were reduced to nugget-sized Microviews. Hope you've enjoyed the drippings of sweat from my brow!
Books of The Year (So Far)
The first half of 2013 has provided us booknerds with a veritable carnival of delights. Javier Marias brought us what I consider to be the masterpiece in an already spectacular career with his philosophical murder mystery, The Infatuations. Following a decade of mediocrity, Jim Crace finally proved that he could still pen a killer novel with the historical drama, Harvest. Owen Sheers joined the ranks of Kevin Powers and Karl Marlantes with his remarkable prose poem of the war in Afghanistan, Pink Mist. David Foster Wallace reappeared in spectral form in his wife Karen Green's extraordinary free verse piece about loss and recovery, Bough Down. Colm Toibin gave voice to one of history's most misunderstood women in The Testament Of Mary. And Ken Kalfus had me smiling and scratching my head at his adventurous mathematical romp of human folly, Equilateral.
Discovery Of The Year
It would be remiss of me to neglect to mention my standout discovery of 2013, Goncalo M. Tavares. Although he has not published anything this year, all four books I read were marvellous in their own way and I can't wait until Dalkey Archive get off their lazy arses and translates some of his other stuff. You hear me Dalkey? Don't make me learn Portugeuse.
Books Of Previous Years
Tavares aside, I have read some great books not published in 2013. Carlos Fuentes's Vlad was a playful take on the Dracula myth. The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick had my jaw resting firmly on the floor for its entire 530 pages. I was repulsed and compelled in equal parts by Pascal Garnier's masterful crime thriller The A26. Ditto David Vogel's lost classic, Viennese Romance. And, of course, my rereads of Dasa Drndic's Trieste and Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle proved just as satisfying the second time around.
The Crystal Ball
Still lots to look forward to this year, with new releases expected from Jonathan Lethem, Donna Tartt, Robert Coover, Thomas Pynchon, Laszlo Kraznahorkai and William Vollman. I'm also keen to read Elizabeth Silver's The Execution of Noa P. Singleton, Andrew Sean Greer's The Impossible Lives of Greta Welles and Simon Van Booy's The Illusion of Separateness. As far as I can tell, those three are short and sweet, which is more than I can say for some of the others I meantioned. Tartt's newy weighs in at almost 800 pages and you'll be needing wrist braces to support all 1100 pages of Coover . It's a strange year when the shortest of the lot comes from serial verbiage-faucet Vollman!
Books of The Year (So Far)
The first half of 2013 has provided us booknerds with a veritable carnival of delights. Javier Marias brought us what I consider to be the masterpiece in an already spectacular career with his philosophical murder mystery, The Infatuations. Following a decade of mediocrity, Jim Crace finally proved that he could still pen a killer novel with the historical drama, Harvest. Owen Sheers joined the ranks of Kevin Powers and Karl Marlantes with his remarkable prose poem of the war in Afghanistan, Pink Mist. David Foster Wallace reappeared in spectral form in his wife Karen Green's extraordinary free verse piece about loss and recovery, Bough Down. Colm Toibin gave voice to one of history's most misunderstood women in The Testament Of Mary. And Ken Kalfus had me smiling and scratching my head at his adventurous mathematical romp of human folly, Equilateral.
Discovery Of The Year
It would be remiss of me to neglect to mention my standout discovery of 2013, Goncalo M. Tavares. Although he has not published anything this year, all four books I read were marvellous in their own way and I can't wait until Dalkey Archive get off their lazy arses and translates some of his other stuff. You hear me Dalkey? Don't make me learn Portugeuse.
Books Of Previous Years
Tavares aside, I have read some great books not published in 2013. Carlos Fuentes's Vlad was a playful take on the Dracula myth. The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick had my jaw resting firmly on the floor for its entire 530 pages. I was repulsed and compelled in equal parts by Pascal Garnier's masterful crime thriller The A26. Ditto David Vogel's lost classic, Viennese Romance. And, of course, my rereads of Dasa Drndic's Trieste and Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle proved just as satisfying the second time around.
The Crystal Ball
Still lots to look forward to this year, with new releases expected from Jonathan Lethem, Donna Tartt, Robert Coover, Thomas Pynchon, Laszlo Kraznahorkai and William Vollman. I'm also keen to read Elizabeth Silver's The Execution of Noa P. Singleton, Andrew Sean Greer's The Impossible Lives of Greta Welles and Simon Van Booy's The Illusion of Separateness. As far as I can tell, those three are short and sweet, which is more than I can say for some of the others I meantioned. Tartt's newy weighs in at almost 800 pages and you'll be needing wrist braces to support all 1100 pages of Coover . It's a strange year when the shortest of the lot comes from serial verbiage-faucet Vollman!
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