Another amusing DFW writeup — this one in installments. Part of me is wondering just what it is about DFW that causes us to write these lengthy reports. Does submerging one’s self in a lengthy novel cause us to expatiate at length? (via Agent Bond)
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (Bat Segundo interview with Murphy)
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (Bat Segundo interview with McClear)
Mark me for my biases, but here’s a better illustrated DFW citing altogether *I Smell Bear.
thanks for the link to my first DFW installment. the next one is now up with one or two or three to follow. you are right — there is something about him (much as one tries to deny it) — his thorough writing and acute observations do rub off a bit. at least i didn’t get all cutesy with a million footnotes and subfootnotes!
cutsie? Ouch.
yikes — i had not read I Smell Bear’s post on DFW until after I posted my comment here. i had no idea she used a footnote. no harm meant. i was referring to the many reviewers of his work who seem unable to not footnote everything in their reviews. my apologies to you, Gina, the poster and to I Smell Bear…she only used one footnote and it was quite funny. hardly the stuff of “cutsie”….
Whew! Probably you and Ing, at *I Smell Bear, would get on like a house on fire. That’s a British expression, the burning house timbers, which still confounds me. Anyway, being located in the middle west, I haven’t seen DFW read since 1995 or thereabouts. I’m glad to see two write ups and likewise I figured more of us here would too.
DFW does make me want to footnote and imitate and write these long and winding sentences. He’s so infuriatingly good, and his punctuation! Arr!