Give It Up, Maslin
Janet Maslin has continued to infect the Gray Lady’s pages with cloying and annoying book reviews. But the New York Times sunk to a new low today in assigning her Roberto Bolaño’s 2666 to review. This is a bit like asking Sarah Palin (a name strangely consonant with “Janet Maslin,” come to think of it) to write a 1,000-word review of a Thomas Mann novel. Let us count the ways in which Maslin offends:
1. The first paragraph. Here’s a hint, Janet. When remarking upon an author’s great command with a long sentence, it might be a good idea to keep your own sentences clean. Where were the copy editors on this? “A lot of commas adorn this story of a Swabian who promoted cultural events for a Frisian town that was visited by an elusive literary genius who might or might not have been named Benno von Archimboldi and who spoke with a woman who went to Buenos Aires and met a little gaucho who presented her with a riddle that Archimboldi solved on the spot.” You couldn’t write one-tenth as skillfully as Bolaño if you tried. You could have told us in the previous sentence that the Bolaño sentence was stacked with multiple commas. This longass sentence could have been easily split up into three. You’re supposed to articulate the goddam book for the reader, not confuse the reader further.
2. Bolaño’s Foresight: Who gives a shit if Bolaño knew his work would be well received? What is this? People Fucking Magazine? Your job is to understand the book, not play armchair doc with an author who isn’t even alive to respond to your amateurish psychobabble.
3. Literary Superstar Status: Maslin writes that Bolaño “would now be enjoying literary superstar status if fate had been kinder.” Obviously, Maslin hasn’t been paying attention. Nearly every literary person I know is getting her panties wet about 2666. Dude currently is a literary superstar. A dead literary superstar, but a literary superstar nonetheless.
4. Maslin’s a Qualified Polyglot? We are informed by Maslin that 2666 “has been translated with wonderful agility by Natasha Wimmer.” Does Maslin read Spanish? Is she in possession of the original text? What “wonderful agility” does Wimmer have exactly? Does Maslin wish to imply that Wimmer is a long distance runner? What? The? Fuck? Maslin?
5. “Worshipful Adulation”: Adulation, by its very definition, is already worshipful, because it is predicated on flattery or admiration. So what was the point of this modifier exactly?
6. Relying on the Afterword: Yes, by all means, quote gratuitously from the afterword to imply that you read the book in whole, as opposed to a later section in the text. If you were a real critic, you’d quote from a source outside the book.
7. Thomas Wolfe: So because Thomas Wolfe wrote a long narrative over multiple books, he’s worth bringing up in this review. But length is the only common variable you can bring up? Sweet Jesus. Have you even read another Chilean writer?
8. Random References: “Far better to think of David Lynch, Marcel Duchamp (both explicitly invoked here) and the Bob Dylan of “Highway 61 Revisited,” all at the peak of their lucid yet hallucinatory powers.” Yes, “far better” when you can just toss around random names that Bolaño brought up in the book without specifying specific artistic corollaries. You bring up the Duchamp and Lynch specifics later, but if you can’t connect Dylan, why bring him up?
9. Gratuitous Gore: Always of concern to a gratuitous critic.
10. 300 Slow Pages: Oh dear! You couldn’t wolf down the book!
Vanishing: the exact opposite of what Janet Maslin will do.
2666
It is certainly true that I have tendered a certain suspicion to those who soften themselves before Roberto Bolaño’s sunshine without seeking a critical shade. I have dutifully set aside 2666 as a tome to be entombed with me during Thanksgiving. Some have been overly content to deify Bolaño or suggest that he is the Messiah. (The phrase “more popular than Jesus” comes to mind, although Lorin Stein, quite surprisingly, did not plan for the hype last week.) Some, naturally suspicious of this literary worth, have given voice to softly muttered suspicions.
As for me, I do not have an opinion either way. Not until I’ve read all 900 pages. So you may hear from me on the subject in early December (or before!). Extraordinary proof, however, requires extraordinary evidence.
Books To Jump Up and Down Over
Beyond Heaving Bosoms by Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan. The famed writers behind Smart Bitches, Trashy Books have written a very funny and thoughtful volume about romances, both Old Skool and New Skool. Here is a book that any smug and humorless literary manboy beating his flabby passive chest over Banville or Bolano should probably read pronto, if only for the distant possibility that he might get over himself. While the Choose Your Own Adventure segment at the end caused me to have a very disturbing dream involving Shelley Long (don't ask), Sarah and Candy did have me rethinking many of my own misperceptions when I wasn't busy laughing. They're not afraid to take on the New York Times Bok Review or even the groupthink within certain sectors of the romance community.
Alice Fantastic by Maggie Estep. This wild and highly enjoyable narrative involves two sisters (presumably, the third one was still being rented out by Chekhov), a hippie ex-junkie mother who lives with seventeen dogs, a murder, gambling, and libidinous Hollywood actresses who live in Woodstock. But this is the wonderful Maggie Estep we're talking here. And what seems at first like a quirky yarn becomes something unexpectedly moving about connectivity. What I love about Estep's work is the way that she'll juxtapose an extremely astute observation (now that you mention it, why do cab drivers always have somebody to talk with on the phone past midnight?) with an often outrageous story development.
Generosity by Richard Powers. It doesn't come out until September 29th, but Richard Powers's latest will have anyone committed to books reconsidering their literary fervor. I foresee some animosity from the vanilla critics hostile to idea-driven novels, but book bloggers, YouTube chroniclers, and MFAs would do well to plunge into this chance-taking narrative, which introduces vital questions about what the reader's relationship is with media, scientific dissection, and "creative nonfiction." Are we rats fleeing to happy cities? Or can we find the humanism within the purported plague?
Pieces for the Left Hand by J. Robert Lennon. Lennon is one of the most underrated fiction writers working today. Much as On the Night Plain proved that Lennon had a lot more in the toolbox than heartfelt (and often very funny) suburban satire, this slim but fascinating volume juxtaposes 100 small-town anecdotes -- arranged by category -- in a manner that reads, at times, like Nicholson Baker's passions for minutiae and, at other times, Stewart O'Nan's concern for psychological detail. The result is fiction that makes us wonder about whether one person's subjective view of particulars can entirely be trusted. This book never found a publisher in 2005. But thankfully, Graywolf has released it in the United States, along with Lennon's latest novel, The Castle.
Wonderful World by Javier Calvo. This wonderfully raucous volume has been completely ignored by the Washington Post, the New York Times, and the Los Angeles Times. But it's probably one of the most delightful reading experiences I've had this year. Calvo cavalierly mashes up multiple genres and manages to mix up familial subtext with larger-than-life, almost cartoonish characters. (Indeed, one might argue that one mobster's penis is a character of its own in this sprawling novel.). This is not an easy thing to pull off, but Calvo makes it work. And it's helped immeasurably by Mara Faye Lethem's idiom-specific translation. (See longer post.)
The Means of Reproduction, Michelle Goldberg This thoughtful book tackles the complicated (and little discussed) subject of reproductive rights from numerous angles, which includes a number of unpleasant but necessary ones. The upshot is that there isn't a quick fix solution for declining birth rates and fundamentalist abuses. Just about every political faction has contributed to the friction. But you'll want to read this book anyway to refamiliarize yourself with the topic, but also to understand just what's occurred during the past several decades to get us where we are today. (See also podcast interview with Goldberg.)
