Stoner - John Williams (1965)

 

Rating: Sublime

Stoner is not the greatest novel ever written, but it is known as the most perfect novel ever written. Williams was an academic and writer who lived a flawed life, published four novels in his lifetime, before dying relatively unknown in 1994. Aside from a few glowing reviews in 1965, Stoner was mostly ignored until the 2000s, when it was republished multiple times. When it was subsequently translated into French it started to sell prolifically in Europe and then became highly regarded by critics, numerous writers and lovers of literary fiction. Set between the early 1900's and the 1950's, it tells the story of a life, that of William Stoner, the son of simple farmers who send him to university to study the latest agricultural techniques in order to take over the farm and make it profitable. Instead Stoner falls in love with English Literature whilst doing a compulsory literature unit. He subsequently begins a lifetime of studying and teaching the subject at the University of Missouri. Stoner is a quiet, shy and thoughtful individual, who finds his place in the world within the confines of university life. It is one of the great university novels, but ultimately it is a novel about stoicism, within work-life and home-life. Stoner marries Edith Bostwick, and immediately it is an unhappy union. Within their marriage Williams explores human psychology at its deepest levels without once examining why the characters behave in the way that they do; Edith is damaged by her parents and she suffers from what looks like post-natal depression, however these are just things that Stoner endures with grim determination. Stoner suffers through poisonous rivalry from the likes of fellow academic, Hollis Lomax, a bitter and cynical cripple who becomes determined to undermine Stoner until the bitter end. Stoner's relationship with his daughter is ruined by Edith and his only chance at romantic happiness is destroyed by convention and the scheming of Lomax. 

So, why is Stoner the perfect novel? Firstly, I must point out that, although the notion of a perfect novel is somewhat problematic, Stoner really is the perfect novel, in my experience at least. Williams' prose is faultless, wasting not a word, a scene or a piece of dialogue, as he tells Stoner's story of sad stoicism. The prose is often exquisitely beautiful, particularly when Stoner is musing over his life, walking the university grounds, or simply sitting at his desk, looking out the window into the somber snow-covered landscape. There are moments of mystical insight and emotional clarity that are almost Zen-like in their poise. All of the characters are totally alive, fully formed and real within the minds eye. The reader can't help but be intensely emotionally involved, as if you are living along-side Stoner, Edith and Katherine Driscoll, Stoner's romantic interest. Stoner's life proceeds in a liner narrative, with no experimental fragmenting of time or perspective, and it is all the more fresher for it, in particular after the dominance of fragmented fiction in the twenty-first century. Despite Stoner's sad and difficult life his story really is beautiful and uplifting, one cannot help but be touched by his struggles and his determination. The end is just as tragic as you'd imagine, however he discovers a deep existential satisfaction to his life, and in this sense Stoner can be seen as an existential novel. Stoner does not go to church, does not turn to God to help in his moments of need, instead he finds meaning in his love of teaching and within the beauty of literature. It's a story for us all, a universal thematic examination of what it means to live a life and to be satisfied in the end despite it all. Along the way Williams provides us with one of the most sublime narratives ever written, it's that good. Whatever you do in life, make sure you read Stoner, it's a masterpiece. 

Annihilation - Michel Houellebecq (2022, English translation, 2024)

 

Rating: Excellent

I first read Houellebecq way back in the early twenty-first century, when I discovered his novel Atomised (1998) at an airport bookstore and read it on my holiday; not exactly holiday reading, but it was compelling nonetheless. Bleakly existential and darkly funny, it was also very sexy, and also, like the first time I read Murakimi (Dance Dance Dance, 1994), so startlingly fresh that I couldn't help but became an instant fan. Annihilation still contains elements of the in your face controversy and freshness of Houellebecq's earlier work, but here it is somewhat toned down, resulting in a work that comes across as serious, adult writing, focussing on universal Existential themes of what it is to be human. Annihilation reminds me of John Fowles writing, in particular his novel Daniel Martin (1977), both in terms of quality and thematic complexity. Annihilation has three main narrative strands, one focusing on the principal protagonist, Paul Raison and his family life, the second dealing with a terrorist group that posts gnomic videos and messages online, and the third dealing with the mysterious workings of French politics. All three are interrelated, with Raison working as an advisor to the French minister of finance, Bruno Juge. Juge is one of the targets of the terrorist group, who depict him as being decapitated with a guillotine in a disturbing deepfake video. Raison has personal problems related to his ailing father, his siblings and his fading marriage to his wife Prudence (she's revealed to be a vegan, a pagan and the owner of at least three pairs of hot-pants). It's an unusual blend of themes, but Houellebecq makes it work and the novel is oddly compelling, despite the prose sometimes coming across as rather flat, which may be a stylistic choice unto itself, or the translation.

Within the scope of Raison's family life Houellebecq explores the problematic moral and practical concerns of the care given to the aged and infirm, with his retired father having suffered a major stroke that leaves him paralysed. Houellebecq critiques the West's flawed attitudes to age and death, both in terms of how the State deals with it, and how individuals deal with it within the West's spiritual and religious vacuum. Raison's sister, Cecile, is a Christian, and her beliefs and coping mechanisms are used to highlight the opposing secular attitudes of her brother (in the end, Christianity is shown as not really being of much use...). Raison's relationship with his wife is at the heart of some of the novel's most positive and heartwarming moments. Houellebecq, it seems, is fully prepared to explore redemption within a romantic relationship, which, given what usually happens in his other novels, comes as somewhat of a shock. Indeed, the terms positive and heartwarming would not have been used in any reviews as descriptors of his previous work. But within the novel's narrative framework it works well and you can't help but be happy for the married couple, although, of course they are eventually confronted with some of life's most bleakest and inevitable outcomes. Paul and Prudence's relationship also contains some of Houellebecq's trademark sexual frankness, with Prudence being described in one extended scene as being almost permanently up for it, while also administering sexual favours that last for hours. It almost makes one long to be married. Meanwhile the matter of the terrorists is not fully resolved, which surprised me, but perhaps it is just like the other events in the novel, both the personal and the political - just another thing that happens in the black theatre of life, running along in the background, oblivious to the triumphs and tragedies of human life. Annihilation of one of Houellebecq's most satisfying and fascinating novels', if you are new to his writing it is perhaps best to start elsewhere, but ultimately it stands as one of his best.

Fifty Two Weeks - 2024 in Literary Terms

 

The sun sets on 2024, Morley, Dec 31st

The past year has been extremely busy, in a way that has led to nearly all of my books being packed in boxes and stacked in the corner of a room in my wife's house. Across the year we did all of the background planning to build a new house at my property, which took up a great deal of time and mental space, and then I moved house, with all that that entails. As a consequence my reading was curtailed, but I still managed to get through some tomes, both brilliant and mediocre. The best was undoubtably the Javier Marias novel, Tomas Nevinson (2021). Marias was an exemplary literary figure, regarded as Spain's greatest modern writer, it's a pity he passed away during the pandemic. Tomas Nevinson was also a book club read, and so was definitely the best book club novel of the year, followed by Table for Two by Amor Towles (2024). The worst book club book and also the worst overall read of the year was definitely The Anniversary by Stephanie Bishop (2023), although it was still a long way from the worst novel I've ever read, the execrable The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson (2010), it makes me shudder just thinking about it!

Some of my books, before being imprisoned in boxes

Honourable mentions go to the very entertaining In the Approaches by Nicola Barker (2014), I really must explore more of her work, and The In-Between by Christos Tsiolkas (2023), which was also the best book I read by an Australian author. Overall the reading year was quite an interesting mix, during which I tackled Dostoevsky, which almost defeated me, but I got through in the end by sheer bloody-mindedness, it's rare that I give up on a novel in any case. I also finally got around to reading some of the music books I have laying around, the best being Bee Gees: Children of the World by Bob Stanley (2023). The Bee Gees were a much better musical proposition than many people remember and their story is fascinating. On that (musical) note, I'm taking a vow to read more in 2025, particularly as all of the books I can't help but buy are piling up. I'm justified in buying all these new books, as my main collection is boxed up for the next year, but then really who needs such excuses?

Table for Two - Amor Towles (2024)

 

Rating: Excellent

The Subiaco Library Book Club ended 2024 on a high with this fine collection of six short stories and one novella. Since emerging in 2011 with the successful novel, Rules of Civility, which was written across twenty years on weekends as Towles worked in investment banking, he has become one the era's most successful novelists. Table for Two has a direct connection with Rules of Civility, revisiting the character of Evelyn Ross, who, by the end of that novel had endured a car accident, the end of an engagement and had diverted her trip home to end up in Los Angeles. The novella Eve in Hollywood follows her adventures in late 1930s Hollywood, where she befriends actress Olivia de Havilland and, with the help of assorted characters, helps fend off those that would do her harm. The novella encompasses half of Table for Two and reads like a homage, but not a satire of, noir crime novels from that era. It is a fine novella, however it is slightly over-plotted and suffers in comparison with the six short stories that proceed it, which are beautifully written and succinct. Eve in Hollywood is well worth reading, but the short stories, which are among the finest I've ever read, are at the heart of this collection.

The short stories, grouped under the heading, New York, begin with The Line, set during the Communist Revolution in Russia circa 1917, with a married couple journeying from their farm to the heart of the revolution in Moscow. It's a clever story of finding one's place in the scheme of things by adapting in ways that are counter to the prevailing politic environment. The Line is funny and very clever, and, like many of these stories, dovetails nicely to a conclusion that brings delight. The Ballad of Timothy Touchett is perhaps my favourite. Touchett is young struggling writer who is befriended by an older gentlemen in the library, whilst he is practicing the signatures of some of history's greatest writers. The gentleman offers him a job in his book shop, which is filled with first editions, and Touchett is soon put to work forging signatures of long dead authors for profit, but it is the authors who still live that you need to watch out for. Once again the writing is humorous and very clever. Towles' prose is elegant and spacious, uncluttered of extranious detail, allowing the narrative to flow beautifully to its natural conclusion. All of the short stories have this in common, with many of them containing subtle irony and emotional poignancy. The characters are fully realised, even the ones who are described in just a few sentences, and scenes are acutely visual in their descriptive power. Table for Two really is a masterclass in short form writing and Towles' prose is literary fiction that elevates popular fiction to where it should be, quality but pleasurable reading.

The Anniversary - Stephanie Bishop (2023)

Rating: Mediocre

Even though I finished The Anniversary only two weeks ago I've had to look it up to remind myself what it was about and what happened across its interminable length. I'm finding it difficult to even write this review, such is my antipathy toward the novel. In any case, here I go: JB Blackwood, a novelist, and her famous filmmaker husband, Patrick, twenty years her senior, embark on a cruise in order to rekindle their relationship. There's much more to it, of course, taking in such weighty themes as the nature of narrative, which is often fragmentary and opaque (as the novel keeps reminding you) and the power imbalance that can exist between men and women, especially in the creative field, and, of course, the mysterious nature of marriage. It turns out that Patrick was JB's tutor (what a surprise!) and JB's rather naive crush turns into a marriage in which both fuel the other's artistic endeavours, until it all comes to an end on the cruise to celebrate the couple's anniversary (hence the title...). The story is told strictly from JB's perspective in a very claustrophobic first person style, with no direct dialogue, rather JB informs the reader what other characters are saying and doing. JB's perspective totally dominates, which is part of the thematic point of the novel. It doesn't take long to suspect that JB is an unreliable narrator and that the reader is only privy to a skewed and distorted version of events, both in the present and the past.

Marketed both as a mystery and a thriller, The Anniversary is neither. JB's musings have a soporific effect on the mind and body, as she endlessly ponders her past, her marriage, the publishing industry and most of all, the loss of Patrick, who has 'mysteriously' fallen overboard during a storm off the coast of Japan. Unfortunately there's no mystery about it, as it is obvious that JB herself was directly involved. It's hard to be sympathetic toward her, she is a distinctly unlikable character. For a novel to really have emotional resonance it needs to make you care about what happens to the principal protagonist, however I didn't care at all about JB's predicament; her struggle to get through the demands of an author tour right after the death of her husband, her traumatic childhood due to her mother's disappearance, and her attempts to outrun her part in Patrick's death. The novel slumps badly during a lengthy middle part in which JB stays with her sister's family in Australia, which very obviously explores the dysfunctions that lay at the heart of her wider family. The Anniversary does have something going for it, it is easy to read, but unfortunately it reveals itself to be one of those popular fiction novels masquerading as literary fiction. There's lots of them out there and perhaps that's what the novel is being compared against, surely this is why it was long listed for The Stella Prize? The Anniversary was a book club read and I have to report that it is one of the worst received novels in the near twenty year history of the Subiaco Library Book Club. I ask members to rate the novel out of ten at the end of each session and ninety percent of the ratings fell below five. No mercy was shown toward the novel by the members, making my comments in this review seem tame in comparison. Enough said!

 

10,000 Light-Years from Home - James Tiptree Jr. (1973)

 

Rating: Excellent

James Tiptree was actually a female writer using a male pen name to help her work be accepted in the male dominated world of science fiction. Her name was Alice Sheldon and judging from the fascinating and imaginative short stories found in this volume she was one of the best science fiction authors of the 1970s and 1980s. I grabbed 10,000 Light-Years from Home off the shelf because it presented a very different proposition to the heavy tomes I've been reading lately. It didn't disappoint. Tiptree's writing style and thematic bent reminds me of the short work of Walter Tevis. The stories are written in a vivid, almost hip style that pops out of the page with its inventiveness and intelligence. The unusual story titles reveal just how clever and snappy her writing is, the first being And I Awoke and Found Me Here on the Cold Hill's Side. Even after reading the story I'm not sure what it means, but the story slyly inverts the usual alien/human relationship, with the hapless humans totally addicted to the unique pleasures aliens provide. The Snows are Melted, the Snows are Gone drops the reader into an unfamiliar world with no explanation offered. The story is a vivid vignette involving an armless girl and her wolf, who trick a primitive human into capture. That's it basically, but Tiptree makes it very exciting and also leaves you wanting more. This story reminded me of the concepts found in the artwork of Moebius (Jean Giraud). In a similar fashion to Mobeius, Tiptree's stories are the kind that you just have to go with and not expect everything to be fully explained. The Peacefulness of Vivyan is the perfect example, an idiot savant who just wants to swim in an alien ocean is taken in by freaky seal-man creatures. All becomes apparent, kind of, but the writing is so good it doesn't matter either way, a big part of the reward is the narrative journey itself.

Alice Sheldon

One of the best stories in this collection is Painwise. A human starship pilot is along for the ride as his ship explores the galaxy, investigating worlds and the various freaky life-forms. He can't feel any pain, so when he is deposited on a planet it doesn't matter what happens to him, he'll survive and be patched up by the ship. Unfortunately he's had enough and tries many different ways to end his life, whilst also begging to be taken home. This is just the premise, what happens to him is ingenious and wild, you'll have to read the book to find out. Not every story has aged well, Birth of a Salesman is rooted in hip madmen style corporate argot that doesn't translate well for the current time, also the twist in the tale is just too obscure. However there's some great time travel stories, The Man Who Walked Home is brilliant and ingenious, as is Forever to a Hudson Bay Blanket, a tragic love story played out over a closed time loop. My favourite two stories are Mamma Come Home and Help. As with some of the stories in the Walter Tevis collection, Far From Home (1981), these stories feature reoccurring characters, in this case they work for NASA and are heavily involved when aliens, in the form of giant women, turn up. Tiptree has some fun satirising pulpy fantasies of giant sexy women, these women literally kill men by having sex with them, but not all is lost, as the clever ending reveals. In Help more aliens turn up and the crew have to try and deal with their religious fanaticism. Once again the satire is turned up to eleven and religion in general is the loser. These stories deal with some serious themes in fun and inventive ways, making you think a bit more deeply than you realise. Having finished 10,000 Light-Years from Home I'm not surprised that Alice Sheldon had a background in experimental psychology, worked for the CIA and was also a major in the US Air Force during WWII. Like her life, her fiction is a multifaceted and intelligent adventure. Recommended for those who want to be challenged, or who just love weird science fiction.

Tomas Nevinson - Javier Marias (2021, English edition 2023)

 

Rating: Sublime

I had prior warning that Tomas Nevinson is a superb novel from both a colleague and a library patron, both of whom have excellent tastes. Turns out that they were right. Marias, who unfortunately passed away from covid induced pneumonia in 2022, was considered to be one of Spain's greatest ever writers. He was prolific, producing some sixteen novels, along with short story and essay collections. Apparently he was somewhat of a curmudgeon, complaining about the trials of modern life in his regular newspaper column. Tomas Nevinson is his last novel and is one of those works whose brilliance is apparent within the first few paragraphs. The prose is crystal clear, sophisticated, erudite and compelling. Told, initially at least, from the first person perspective of the eponymous protagonist, the novel is deeply psychological and philosophical, both thematically and literally. The first hundred pages are dominated by Nevinson's musings regarding his past, his present situation as a retired agent (from MI6) and his sunset job as a public servant. He meets his former boss in a park in Madrid, the debonair and sinister Bertram Tupra. Tupra wants Nevinson for one last job. They move to a cafe where Tupra tries to railroad Nevinson into taking the mission, which involves living in a north-western Spanish town called Ruan in order to investigate three women, one of which aided and abetted ETA terrorists from the Basque region. That's all that happens in the first hundred pages, but somehow, despite the glacial pacing and Nevinson's digressive musings, it is utterly compelling and absorbing.

Marias had a massive personal library

Essentially Tomas Nevinson is, like Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch (2013), an example of modern realism, giving no concession to the narrative greed of the modern reader. The pace of the novel adheres to the pace of living as a spy in a Spanish town, complete with the mist that obscures the figures walking back and forth over the main bridge opposite where Miguel Centurion (Nevinson's undercover alter ego) lives, spying on the three Ruan woman via various means.  After the long opening chapters in which Nevinson ponders his life and the way forward in the first person, here the narrative slips seamlessly into third person, until you realise that the narrator is actually Nevinson, referring in the third person to the actions and thoughts of Centurion. It's a skilful and clever sleight of hand by Marias, one that works extremely well, drawing you into the deep psychology of both Nevinson's character and that of his alter ego. Marias characterisations are superb throughout, the metrosexual Tupra is exceptional and, in particular, the husbands of two of the suspects stand out; one a vain and egotistical dandy dressed in lurid suits, the other a conceited control freak, arousing himself erect by play-fighting with his antique swords. Within all of the musings and serious moral themes there's some canny humour to be had.

Pondering The Trolley Problem

Tomas Nevinson is an examination of the moral conundrums of the famous Trolley Problem. The moral complexities Nevinson grapples with is confounding for Centurion (see what I did there...?), but crystal clear for the likes of Tupra and his many and varied associates. It's a complex but rewarding moral maze for the reader to get lost in, always compelling despite frequent slow passages of digression and almost neurotic musings from Centurion. Tomas Nevinson is a companion piece (specifically not a sequel, according to the author himself) to Marias' prior novel, Berta Isla (2017). They stand as individual works, however a library book club member who went on to read Berta Isla commented that it shone useful light of Nevinson's psychology and his back-story with Berta, who is Nevinson's wife. Berta does feature in Tomas Nevinson, but Berta Isla is her story, told from her perspective, allowing the reader to consider Nevinson from the outside, which indicates that it is probably best to start with Berta Isla. As someone new to the works of Javier Marias, I can't wait to read all of his work; at last, another worthy literary author discovered, too late to enjoy him while alive, but I'm sure that his brilliant work will live on.