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alobearI’ve not had much luck with my reading this week. Two consecutive days have seen me eagerly pluck a book from the shelf, only to discard it by the end of the day.
The first was All The Crooked Saints by Maggie Stiefvater, the new book from the author of The Raven Cycle. It tells the story of a family who live in a remote town, dispensing miracles that manifest a pilgrim’s inner darkness for them then to conquer on their own. It was an intriguing premise but the execution left me bewildered and unmoved. What I read of it was an odd mix of remote, almost folklorish narrative, and jarring surreal or unpleasant imagery. I wanted to connect to the characters but was kept separate from them by the stylised, myth-like voice. The only emotions prompted by the early sections, for me, were intermittent revulsion and horror. I admire an author doing something very different to previous work, and I’m certain there is an enthusiastic audience out there for this book, which was obviously written in a very deliberate style, but I’m afraid it wasn’t for me.
Similarly, the premise of The Last Days of New Paris by China Mieville grabbed me, but couldn’t keep me interested. 1950 - the Nazis still occupy Paris, which is struggling in the aftermath of a Surrealism Bomb. Only Mieville would come up with something like that. And I don’t normally have a problem with the less pleasant aspects of his writing. Initially, the weirdness kept me reading, and I was amazed, as ever, at his ability to throw the reader into the middle of something utterly weird and expect them to find their own way out. But the fractured narrative made it very difficult to follow, and also made it hard to connect to the protagonist, as it never settled in one time or place long enough for me to latch on for the ride. Again, it was told in a remote way that left me unconnected with the characters’ feelings, and I decided not to carry on.
What didn’t help was that I came into both of the above books, fresh from the intellectual and emotional assault that was Me, Myself and Them by Dan Mooney. I picked this up at Felixstowe Book Festival earlier in the year, and blasted through it in three days. It tells the story of Denis, who has retreated into obsessive-compulsive behaviour in the aftermath of a tragedy. He has created a strict routine and rigid lifestyle, in order to maintain some semblance of control over his world, and has retreated emotionally from his friends and family. But what made the story really fascinating was that he has also created a set of monstrous housemates, who destroy his carefully constructed order on a daily basis, causing chaos in his home, which he has to spend large amounts of time cleaning up. The housemates damage things and create terrible mess, but in a manner that allows Denis to re-establish calm and control by fixing it. I found the book profoundly disturbing, partly because I recognised some of Denis’ behaviours in myself (only to a minor degree, but still) and also because the housemates were really scary. I loved the way the story progressed as Denis’ interactions with his ex-girlfriend gradually encroached on his life, and the ratcheting up of the tension as the climax approached was intense and uncomfortable, but very compelling. I had an idea where the story might go, which could have been incredibly dark, and I’m not sure I would have liked it to do that, but I found the actual ending a bit of an anti-climax, and would have like more exploration of the aftermath. After all the build-up, the ultimate conclusion felt a little easy, or rather the difficulties of it were glossed over. But still a fascinating read, which really got inside my head, and had me thinking about it constantly between reading sessions.
This week, I also went to see Men in Motion at the Coliseum, which opened with one of the performers coming out to say that he wasn’t going to do the first piece, because it had been received so badly the night before. After that, we got a range of individual dances and a few duets, only one of which featured a female dancer. The skill on show was uniformly excellent, and it was a joy to watch superlative performers demonstrating their talents. In terms of aesthetics, it was a very mixed bag. All the reviews I’ve read have agreed that some pieces were excellent and others terrible, but they have disagreed (in most cases) on which were which. I guess that’s likely with this kind of show - different people are going to react differently to what’s on display, and I admire the bravery of some of the choices made. My favourite piece involved lots of swirling shadows, and an initially languorous dance, which gradually developed into an intense exploration of restriction and imprisonment. I was mesmerised, though I know others in the audience were less impressed. My least favourite was the comedy piece at the end, though again many in the audience seemed to like this best. So, a very varied show, which overall I enjoyed.
And last night was the Burlesque Idol final. I was worried going in, because none of the heats I’d seen throughout the year had particularly impressed me. And the opening act didn’t do much to dispel my fears. It was reasonably well executed, but there was nothing interesting or exciting about it, and I thought we were in for a tedious evening. But all the other ten acts were great - incredibly varied in tone, style and execution. I liked some more than others, but all of them were technically excellent and I appreciated the cleverness and controversial nature of some while enjoying others more. It was very difficult to decide who to vote for - there were six members of my party and only two of us voted for the same performer. My choice was ultimately based on character and storytelling rather than technique, but the one I voted for didn’t even place. The overall winner was predictable in some ways, but deserved. And we were treated to a beautiful, ethereal, masterfully executed performance by Tempest Rose, which is always worth it. So, an excellent night out all round!
The first was All The Crooked Saints by Maggie Stiefvater, the new book from the author of The Raven Cycle. It tells the story of a family who live in a remote town, dispensing miracles that manifest a pilgrim’s inner darkness for them then to conquer on their own. It was an intriguing premise but the execution left me bewildered and unmoved. What I read of it was an odd mix of remote, almost folklorish narrative, and jarring surreal or unpleasant imagery. I wanted to connect to the characters but was kept separate from them by the stylised, myth-like voice. The only emotions prompted by the early sections, for me, were intermittent revulsion and horror. I admire an author doing something very different to previous work, and I’m certain there is an enthusiastic audience out there for this book, which was obviously written in a very deliberate style, but I’m afraid it wasn’t for me.
Similarly, the premise of The Last Days of New Paris by China Mieville grabbed me, but couldn’t keep me interested. 1950 - the Nazis still occupy Paris, which is struggling in the aftermath of a Surrealism Bomb. Only Mieville would come up with something like that. And I don’t normally have a problem with the less pleasant aspects of his writing. Initially, the weirdness kept me reading, and I was amazed, as ever, at his ability to throw the reader into the middle of something utterly weird and expect them to find their own way out. But the fractured narrative made it very difficult to follow, and also made it hard to connect to the protagonist, as it never settled in one time or place long enough for me to latch on for the ride. Again, it was told in a remote way that left me unconnected with the characters’ feelings, and I decided not to carry on.
What didn’t help was that I came into both of the above books, fresh from the intellectual and emotional assault that was Me, Myself and Them by Dan Mooney. I picked this up at Felixstowe Book Festival earlier in the year, and blasted through it in three days. It tells the story of Denis, who has retreated into obsessive-compulsive behaviour in the aftermath of a tragedy. He has created a strict routine and rigid lifestyle, in order to maintain some semblance of control over his world, and has retreated emotionally from his friends and family. But what made the story really fascinating was that he has also created a set of monstrous housemates, who destroy his carefully constructed order on a daily basis, causing chaos in his home, which he has to spend large amounts of time cleaning up. The housemates damage things and create terrible mess, but in a manner that allows Denis to re-establish calm and control by fixing it. I found the book profoundly disturbing, partly because I recognised some of Denis’ behaviours in myself (only to a minor degree, but still) and also because the housemates were really scary. I loved the way the story progressed as Denis’ interactions with his ex-girlfriend gradually encroached on his life, and the ratcheting up of the tension as the climax approached was intense and uncomfortable, but very compelling. I had an idea where the story might go, which could have been incredibly dark, and I’m not sure I would have liked it to do that, but I found the actual ending a bit of an anti-climax, and would have like more exploration of the aftermath. After all the build-up, the ultimate conclusion felt a little easy, or rather the difficulties of it were glossed over. But still a fascinating read, which really got inside my head, and had me thinking about it constantly between reading sessions.
This week, I also went to see Men in Motion at the Coliseum, which opened with one of the performers coming out to say that he wasn’t going to do the first piece, because it had been received so badly the night before. After that, we got a range of individual dances and a few duets, only one of which featured a female dancer. The skill on show was uniformly excellent, and it was a joy to watch superlative performers demonstrating their talents. In terms of aesthetics, it was a very mixed bag. All the reviews I’ve read have agreed that some pieces were excellent and others terrible, but they have disagreed (in most cases) on which were which. I guess that’s likely with this kind of show - different people are going to react differently to what’s on display, and I admire the bravery of some of the choices made. My favourite piece involved lots of swirling shadows, and an initially languorous dance, which gradually developed into an intense exploration of restriction and imprisonment. I was mesmerised, though I know others in the audience were less impressed. My least favourite was the comedy piece at the end, though again many in the audience seemed to like this best. So, a very varied show, which overall I enjoyed.
And last night was the Burlesque Idol final. I was worried going in, because none of the heats I’d seen throughout the year had particularly impressed me. And the opening act didn’t do much to dispel my fears. It was reasonably well executed, but there was nothing interesting or exciting about it, and I thought we were in for a tedious evening. But all the other ten acts were great - incredibly varied in tone, style and execution. I liked some more than others, but all of them were technically excellent and I appreciated the cleverness and controversial nature of some while enjoying others more. It was very difficult to decide who to vote for - there were six members of my party and only two of us voted for the same performer. My choice was ultimately based on character and storytelling rather than technique, but the one I voted for didn’t even place. The overall winner was predictable in some ways, but deserved. And we were treated to a beautiful, ethereal, masterfully executed performance by Tempest Rose, which is always worth it. So, an excellent night out all round!
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Date: 2017-11-25 01:28 pm (UTC)I also didn't like All the Crooked Saints that much. I was expecting a more dramatic resolution of Beatriz & Pete's darkness, but it was just kinda meh.