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The Last Days of Roger Federer: And Other Endings
An extended meditation on late style and last works from one of our greatest living critics (Kathryn Schulz, New York).
When artists and athletes age, what happens to their work? Does it ripen or rot? Achieve a new serenity or succumb to an escalating torment? As our bodies decay, how do we keep on? In this beguiling meditation, Geoff Dyer sets his own encounter with late middle age against the last days and last works of writers, painters, footballers, musicians, and tennis stars who've mattered to him throughout his life. With a playful charm and penetrating intelligence, he recounts Friedrich Nietzsche's breakdown in Turin, Bob Dylan's reinventions of old songs, J. M. W. Turner's paintings of abstracted light, John Coltrane's cosmic melodies, Bjorn Borg's defeats, and Beethoven's final quartets--and considers the intensifications and modifications of experience that come when an ending is within sight. Throughout, he stresses the accomplishments of uncouth geniuses who defied convention, and went on doing so even when their beautiful youths were over.
Ranging from Burning Man and the Doors to the nineteenth-century Alps and back, Dyer's book on last things is also a book about how to go on living with art and beauty--and on the entrancing effect and sudden illumination that an Art Pepper solo or Annie Dillard reflection can engender in even the most jaded and ironic sensibilities. Praised by Steve Martin for his "hilarious tics" and by Tom Bissell as "perhaps the most bafflingly great prose writer at work in the English language today," Dyer has now blended criticism, memoir, and humorous banter of the most serious kind into something entirely new. The Last Days of Roger Federeris a summation of Dyer's passions, and the perfect introduction to his sly and joyous work.
When artists and athletes age, what happens to their work? Does it ripen or rot? Achieve a new serenity or succumb to an escalating torment? As our bodies decay, how do we keep on? In this beguiling meditation, Geoff Dyer sets his own encounter with late middle age against the last days and last works of writers, painters, footballers, musicians, and tennis stars who've mattered to him throughout his life. With a playful charm and penetrating intelligence, he recounts Friedrich Nietzsche's breakdown in Turin, Bob Dylan's reinventions of old songs, J. M. W. Turner's paintings of abstracted light, John Coltrane's cosmic melodies, Bjorn Borg's defeats, and Beethoven's final quartets--and considers the intensifications and modifications of experience that come when an ending is within sight. Throughout, he stresses the accomplishments of uncouth geniuses who defied convention, and went on doing so even when their beautiful youths were over.
Ranging from Burning Man and the Doors to the nineteenth-century Alps and back, Dyer's book on last things is also a book about how to go on living with art and beauty--and on the entrancing effect and sudden illumination that an Art Pepper solo or Annie Dillard reflection can engender in even the most jaded and ironic sensibilities. Praised by Steve Martin for his "hilarious tics" and by Tom Bissell as "perhaps the most bafflingly great prose writer at work in the English language today," Dyer has now blended criticism, memoir, and humorous banter of the most serious kind into something entirely new. The Last Days of Roger Federeris a summation of Dyer's passions, and the perfect introduction to his sly and joyous work.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published May 3, 2022
276 people are currently reading
3100 people want to read
About the author
Geoff Dyer
135 books915 followersGeoff Dyer was born in Cheltenham, England, in 1958. He was educated at the local Grammar School and Corpus Christi College, Oxford. He is the author of four novels: Paris Trance, The Search, The Colour of Memory, and, most recently, Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi; a critical study of John Berger, Ways of Telling; five genre-defying titles: But Beautiful (winner of a 1992 Somerset Maugham Prize, short-listed for the Mail on Sunday/John Llewellyn Rhys Memorial Prize), The Missing of the Somme, Out of Sheer Rage (a finalist for a National Book Critics Circle Award), Yoga For People Who Can’t Be Bothered To Do It (winner of the 2004 W. H. Smith Best Travel Book Award), and The Ongoing Moment (winner of the ICP Infinity Award for Writing on Photography), and Zona (about Andrei Tarkovsky’s film Stalker). His collection of essays, Otherwise Known as the Human Condition, won a National Book Critics Circle Award in 2012. He is also the editor of John Berger: Selected Essays and co-editor, with Margaret Sartor, of What Was True: The Photographs and Notebooks of William Gedney. A new book, Another Great Day at Sea, about life aboard the USS George H W Bush has just been published by Pantheon.
In 2003 he was a recipient of a Lannan Literary Fellowship; in 2005 he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature; in 2006 he received the E. M. Forster Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters; in 2009 he was the recipient of the Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize for Best Comic Novel and the GQ Writer of the Year Award (for Jeff in Venice Death in Varanasi). His books have been translated into twenty-four languages. His website is geoffdyer.com
In 2003 he was a recipient of a Lannan Literary Fellowship; in 2005 he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature; in 2006 he received the E. M. Forster Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters; in 2009 he was the recipient of the Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize for Best Comic Novel and the GQ Writer of the Year Award (for Jeff in Venice Death in Varanasi). His books have been translated into twenty-four languages. His website is geoffdyer.com
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 224 reviews
June 2, 2022
Geoff Dyer’s latest nonfiction book is about last things - last days in a career, a life, lastness generally - that takes the form of a rambling narrative recounting experiences and cultural things that have happened to and around the author.
Your enjoyment will depend on how interesting you find the myriad subjects touched upon over the course of the book but Dyer is nothing if not an affable and amusing host who manages to convey interest in things you might not have thought yourself interested in. That said, there are definitely some subjects Dyer is unable to do that to (ie. jazz - the only thing worse than reading about jazz is listening to it), but all told I found this book to be fairly entertaining and enlightening even.
While Dyer touches on several artistic luminaries the book remains accessible because he focuses less on the subject’s usually complex output and more on their lives. So, while the megalomaniacal philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche features prominently (a bit too much really), Dyer doesn’t delve deeply into Nietzsche’s various writings but instead focuses on the person he was, his turbulent friendship with Wagner, his mad last days, and his controversial legacy.
And, like a good teacher, I learned a lot of interesting stuff from Dyer, like Joseph Turner’s last paintings, which were so focused on light they practically obscured all objects; David Thomson’s remarkable decades-long work The New Biographical Dictionary of Film with its idiosyncratic entries; Albert Bierstadt’s western paintings that heavily influenced the aesthetic of western movies; and Bob Dylan’s never-ending tinkering with his song Tangled Up in Blue.
As a bookish fellow, I enjoyed his book reviews the most, particularly how he tortures himself by trying to read A Dance to the Music of Time (which only cements my belief that I’ll never read it), and his funny comments on Nostromo. He also has a lot of sharp observations about Martin Amis’ output, especially his latest book Inside Story, and Christopher Hitchens and Philip Larkin, all of which were engaging to read about. He also has a great deal to say about DH Lawrence and Jack Kerouac, two writers who lived interesting lives, and Hemingway and his writing process.
There’s also snippets of autobiography included here, like Dyer’s love of playing tennis leading to numerous health problems over the years, which also ties into the theme of last things as Dyer is ageing (he’s in his 60s) and facing his mortality as his body begins to break down. I was surprised by how druggy a writer he turned out to be, although I shouldn’t be given that I know nothing about the man!
So there’s a lot here about the weed culture in California (he currently lives in LA) and his evolving stance on the drug, going to Burning Man and his experiences there, and culminating with taking DMT. I wasn’t that taken with these parts of the book - I just find it tiresome reading about people’s drug histories. Yeah, yeah, you did some drugs and saw “some things”. Whatever. Maybe all the hallucinogens is why we get lines like this:
“One of the reasons we love watching Roger is because of the way - like Dennis Bergkamp - he looks like he is moving within a different, more accommodating dimension of time.”
Huh?
I wouldn’t get too hung up on the title because there’s not that much on Roger Federer (or simply “Roger” as Dyer insists on calling him), or on any of the other tennis players he mentions, but then there probably wouldn’t be, would there? Professional sportsmen are a bit of a dreary bunch. Except for Borg who went on a bizarre personal odyssey following his defeat at the hands of McEnroe and his exit from pro tennis.
While reading Dyer’s feelings about jazz is tedious (he likes it a lot), reading about the lives of noteworthy jazz players is fascinating because they were such a hard-living, tragic crowd. Beethoven though isn’t as compelling to read about, either biographically or musically, and there’s quite a bit about the composer. That’s in part because this book was originally conceived as being about Turner and Beethoven, uncouth artists who never became socially refined despite their success and high status. I think it’s better that the book turned out in this form instead of that one.
Writing about last things and the concept of lastness is a simple concept but one that works because Dyer is a thoughtful and insightful writer who chooses his subjects mostly well. I liked the literary parts, learning about cultural artefacts I wasn’t aware of before, some of the tennis stuff, and the biographical aspects of the jazz parts, but got quite bored with hearing about jazz in general, some of the tennis stuff, and most of the drug parts.
The Last Days of Roger Federer and Other Endings isn’t a gripping read but it’s fun to dip in and out of, like a short story collection where, if one story doesn’t get you, another one might.
Your enjoyment will depend on how interesting you find the myriad subjects touched upon over the course of the book but Dyer is nothing if not an affable and amusing host who manages to convey interest in things you might not have thought yourself interested in. That said, there are definitely some subjects Dyer is unable to do that to (ie. jazz - the only thing worse than reading about jazz is listening to it), but all told I found this book to be fairly entertaining and enlightening even.
While Dyer touches on several artistic luminaries the book remains accessible because he focuses less on the subject’s usually complex output and more on their lives. So, while the megalomaniacal philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche features prominently (a bit too much really), Dyer doesn’t delve deeply into Nietzsche’s various writings but instead focuses on the person he was, his turbulent friendship with Wagner, his mad last days, and his controversial legacy.
And, like a good teacher, I learned a lot of interesting stuff from Dyer, like Joseph Turner’s last paintings, which were so focused on light they practically obscured all objects; David Thomson’s remarkable decades-long work The New Biographical Dictionary of Film with its idiosyncratic entries; Albert Bierstadt’s western paintings that heavily influenced the aesthetic of western movies; and Bob Dylan’s never-ending tinkering with his song Tangled Up in Blue.
As a bookish fellow, I enjoyed his book reviews the most, particularly how he tortures himself by trying to read A Dance to the Music of Time (which only cements my belief that I’ll never read it), and his funny comments on Nostromo. He also has a lot of sharp observations about Martin Amis’ output, especially his latest book Inside Story, and Christopher Hitchens and Philip Larkin, all of which were engaging to read about. He also has a great deal to say about DH Lawrence and Jack Kerouac, two writers who lived interesting lives, and Hemingway and his writing process.
There’s also snippets of autobiography included here, like Dyer’s love of playing tennis leading to numerous health problems over the years, which also ties into the theme of last things as Dyer is ageing (he’s in his 60s) and facing his mortality as his body begins to break down. I was surprised by how druggy a writer he turned out to be, although I shouldn’t be given that I know nothing about the man!
So there’s a lot here about the weed culture in California (he currently lives in LA) and his evolving stance on the drug, going to Burning Man and his experiences there, and culminating with taking DMT. I wasn’t that taken with these parts of the book - I just find it tiresome reading about people’s drug histories. Yeah, yeah, you did some drugs and saw “some things”. Whatever. Maybe all the hallucinogens is why we get lines like this:
“One of the reasons we love watching Roger is because of the way - like Dennis Bergkamp - he looks like he is moving within a different, more accommodating dimension of time.”
Huh?
I wouldn’t get too hung up on the title because there’s not that much on Roger Federer (or simply “Roger” as Dyer insists on calling him), or on any of the other tennis players he mentions, but then there probably wouldn’t be, would there? Professional sportsmen are a bit of a dreary bunch. Except for Borg who went on a bizarre personal odyssey following his defeat at the hands of McEnroe and his exit from pro tennis.
While reading Dyer’s feelings about jazz is tedious (he likes it a lot), reading about the lives of noteworthy jazz players is fascinating because they were such a hard-living, tragic crowd. Beethoven though isn’t as compelling to read about, either biographically or musically, and there’s quite a bit about the composer. That’s in part because this book was originally conceived as being about Turner and Beethoven, uncouth artists who never became socially refined despite their success and high status. I think it’s better that the book turned out in this form instead of that one.
Writing about last things and the concept of lastness is a simple concept but one that works because Dyer is a thoughtful and insightful writer who chooses his subjects mostly well. I liked the literary parts, learning about cultural artefacts I wasn’t aware of before, some of the tennis stuff, and the biographical aspects of the jazz parts, but got quite bored with hearing about jazz in general, some of the tennis stuff, and most of the drug parts.
The Last Days of Roger Federer and Other Endings isn’t a gripping read but it’s fun to dip in and out of, like a short story collection where, if one story doesn’t get you, another one might.
July 4, 2022
26th book for 2022.
A boring book, filled with shallow insights on random topics. I can't help but feel that much of this is stuff that Dyer has wanted to write about for years, but was too lazy to do a proper job of.
This is my last Dyer book.
2-stars.
A boring book, filled with shallow insights on random topics. I can't help but feel that much of this is stuff that Dyer has wanted to write about for years, but was too lazy to do a proper job of.
This is my last Dyer book.
2-stars.
January 5, 2022
Geoff Dyer has an unquenchable curiosity and possesses admirable power of retention. This collection of thoughts, memories, analyses supposedly addressing the finality of lives devoted to particular pursuits, primarily artistic and athletic, reads more like stream of consciousness rather than a set of essays. Essays are usually long investigations into a subject, but this book is almost an autobiographical meander touching on lives sometimes near their ends. Where else can you get such an original take on subjects as diverse representative in the worlds of letters, sports, art, music. I was particularly charmed by the fact that he admits to putting down a book if it's not working for him, walking out of a movie, just quitting when the realization that life is too damn short to waste. His own life plays a large part and I particularly liked reading about his experiences at Burning Man, his passion for tennis, his life in general.
September 2, 2022
Fittingly for a book all about endings, I simply wished this would end.
Read
August 5, 2022A meditation on endings in Geoff Dyer's inimitable voice.
September 24, 2023
Parafraseando o autor, "o meu único arrependimento, quando desisti, foi o de não ter desistido mais cedo, de preferência antes mesmo de ter começado".
Este é um livro do autor, sobre o autor e para o autor. Aquele que escreve sobre si para si mesmo, não merece a atenção de terceiros.
Se é verdade que a liberdade de fazer a sua autobiografia pode ser um exercício de inspiração e introspecção, a insistência em saltar de tema em tema, de referência para referência, impede que o acompanhemos.
Este é um livro do autor, sobre o autor e para o autor. Aquele que escreve sobre si para si mesmo, não merece a atenção de terceiros.
Se é verdade que a liberdade de fazer a sua autobiografia pode ser um exercício de inspiração e introspecção, a insistência em saltar de tema em tema, de referência para referência, impede que o acompanhemos.
December 6, 2022
When I first saw that clip of Roger Federer, having just played his last match, clutching the hand of longtime rival Rafael Nadal, both men in tears, I lost it.
I didn't watch the moment live, I'm not that big a tennis fan, but something about these two men, these two rivals, united in their grief, sent the tears flowing. It wasn't the sadness of Federer's retirement itself that did it, but Nadal's sadness at the fact that his greatest rival was done playing. The fact that he was crying. There's something in that generosity, that humanity, that speaks volumes in a year when the news has been full of exactly the opposite.
Lover of a good title that I am, and a good ending, I was immediately drawn "The Last Days of Roger Federer: And Other Endings." Dyer had an event at this year's Hay Festival and I was taken by his humor and the curiosity he expressed about endings because it's one I share.
I used to believe that this fascination on my part was derived more from a curiosity about death, but I now better understand it's more the way we end things — whether it's the end of our days or the end of our profession — that I find so compelling.
It's not just people, either, but art more generally. How much weight do you give the end of a film or novel? If an otherwise fabulous series ends badly (HBO's "Game of Thrones" comes to mind here, though that's just the more recent popular example — I haven't watched it), does it negate the positive things that series gave you earlier on? Does it render the whole experience worthless?
Dyer doesn't so much focus on the endings of films and novels as he does on the overall quality of work that artists produce in their later days and on whether they've remained sane ... or not. Bob Dylan comes in for close examination here, as do earlier (and later) figures like J.M.W. Turner and Nietzsche.
You aren't going to jibe with all the figures and examples that Dyer throws at you, I for one found the jazzier parts of the book to drag, but I loved the overall sentiment.
What do we do in the end?
How do we behave knowing we're in the twilight of our careers and/or lives?
Anelise Chen's So Many Olympic Exertions feels like a book on a similar wavelength as this one. But while that book was largely a serious examination of why we do what we do, Dyer's is equal parts serious and hilarious.
The parts of this I enjoyed the most had to do with Dyer's own personal adventures and misadventures, whether his long-running mission to never pay for shampoo again or his frustrated attempt to complete "A Dance to the Music of Time." Even when I didn't completely relate to the enthusiasm Dyer shows to things like jazz, I always enjoyed the writing. And when Dyer turned his attention to people and things I am enthusiastic about — films, novels, Christopher Hitchens, Federer, etc — I was enthralled.
Dyer's book is a wealth of information, and I learned a great deal about Turner, Nietzsche, and many others. More importantly, Dyer's book taught me to be more thoughtful — about what I spend my life reading, watching, and loving. This is the one life we're given, after all, and it seems a cruel quirk of humanity that we often seek to suppress that knowledge.
June 20, 2022
A self-indulgent memoir/reflection on endings: of great artists and performers, and of life more broadly. The pomposity of Dyer's prose can be equal parts unbearable and unbelievably profound depending on the subject he's discussing.
If you just love Roger Federer, this isn't the book for you. If, on the other hand, you love Roger's Federer, Continental philosophy, avant-garde film, contemporary literary fiction, or eccentric anecdotes from an erudite, small-town Briton's life, then there may be more than a few gems in this book for you. Here are a few of mine:
- Musing on the tragedy of peaking early in life, through the examination of tennis legend Boris Becker's fall from grace.
- The author's reflection on books he's quit early, and those he's come to terms with never having read.
- The author's bizarre methods to derive meaning from his increasingly mundane life, including his personal commitment to never paying for shampoo bottles, opting to steal them instead
- How Shakespeare's Prospero would contemplate a lost opportunity for love during an intimate evening in Johannesburg years prior
- Roger's unbearable loss in the 2019 Wimbledon final, immortalized on the scoreboard, as per tournament tradition, throughout the subsequent pandemic-induced hiatus until it resumed in 2021, and the prospect of never seeing him play in top form again.
If you just love Roger Federer, this isn't the book for you. If, on the other hand, you love Roger's Federer, Continental philosophy, avant-garde film, contemporary literary fiction, or eccentric anecdotes from an erudite, small-town Briton's life, then there may be more than a few gems in this book for you. Here are a few of mine:
- Musing on the tragedy of peaking early in life, through the examination of tennis legend Boris Becker's fall from grace.
- The author's reflection on books he's quit early, and those he's come to terms with never having read.
- The author's bizarre methods to derive meaning from his increasingly mundane life, including his personal commitment to never paying for shampoo bottles, opting to steal them instead
- How Shakespeare's Prospero would contemplate a lost opportunity for love during an intimate evening in Johannesburg years prior
- Roger's unbearable loss in the 2019 Wimbledon final, immortalized on the scoreboard, as per tournament tradition, throughout the subsequent pandemic-induced hiatus until it resumed in 2021, and the prospect of never seeing him play in top form again.
July 4, 2022
I feel like such a grump for not liking this more, because I can see that if it's something that's objectively just more up your street than it was mine then it would be a four or five starrer.
The premise is intriguing: focusing on artists and public figures as they approach old age or the end of their career. The book is ostensibly about Roger Federer (Roger to Geoff Dyer), but there is little focus on him besides a few brief chapters. The narrative is cleverly structured but jumps around all over the place, with a big focus on Nietzsche along with a large autobiographical element.
Dyer's style is unusual and often engaging - he's a true raconteur, something I witnessed during a (virtual) LRB event with him to promote this book. A lot of the readers enjoyment will rest on how much one enjoys his company; at times I found it entertaining... and at times I was itching to skip whole chapters about topics I didn't care too much about (it is never, ever interesting to read someone's account of when they were on drugs. Never.). A mixed bag for me personally, but I'm sure many readers will love this book.
Thank you Netgalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux for the advance copy, which was provided in exchange for an honest review.
The premise is intriguing: focusing on artists and public figures as they approach old age or the end of their career. The book is ostensibly about Roger Federer (Roger to Geoff Dyer), but there is little focus on him besides a few brief chapters. The narrative is cleverly structured but jumps around all over the place, with a big focus on Nietzsche along with a large autobiographical element.
Dyer's style is unusual and often engaging - he's a true raconteur, something I witnessed during a (virtual) LRB event with him to promote this book. A lot of the readers enjoyment will rest on how much one enjoys his company; at times I found it entertaining... and at times I was itching to skip whole chapters about topics I didn't care too much about (it is never, ever interesting to read someone's account of when they were on drugs. Never.). A mixed bag for me personally, but I'm sure many readers will love this book.
Thank you Netgalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux for the advance copy, which was provided in exchange for an honest review.
November 5, 2023
Un libro sulla fine o sull’ultima fase di qualcosa in campo sportivo/artistico: premessa intrigante. Il risultato è un ibrido poco classificabile (bene) come spesso accade nella bibliografia di Dyer. Catalogato sia con CDD 700 (saggio sull’arte) che con CDD 828 (miscellanea di scritti in lingua inglese). Si parla di musica, libri, sport, filosofia, arte, acciacchi con risultati molto altalenanti. È un “lavoro da lockdown” (il periodo Covid e l’impossibilità di spostarsi sono più volte citati) poco ispirato: metto su carta un po’ di pensieri, trovo un filo conduttore e li organizzo di conseguenza. Qualche buono spunto - in particolare quando parla di scrittura e scrittori - ma tutto molto esile, sfuggente. Di un bel po’ di argomenti mi è interessato molto poco. Di Federer si parla relativamente poco (il titolo è fuorviante, comunque fedele a quello originale), un po’ di più di tennis, e non è che dopo Wallace non lo si possa più fare, ma l’asticella è spostata parecchio in alto.
[55/100]
[55/100]
August 3, 2022
We, mortals, are fascinated by the events defined as “the last”. This fascination is reflected even in the titles of our films, paintings, and books such as The Last Supper, Last Tango in Paris, or The Last of the Mohicans. The newest book by Geoff Dyer The Last Days of Roger Federer is very much in the vein of our interest.
This is not a story about the last matches of a famous tennis player, although they occupy a prominent place in it, but about the last works of artists for whom life meant creating. As their lives drew to an end, their creativity changed along with the weakness of their physical bodies - sometimes it diminished completely, sometimes it manifested itself in a completely different way, like in Beethoven’s case where ‘the dissociation and disintegration themselves become artistic means’.
Geoff Dyer describes the last years of Beethoven, Nietzsche, Turner, and Coltrane, just to name a few subjects of his analysis, looking at them with inquisitiveness, justified by the fact that, being a writer over 60, he cannot resist the thought that perhaps this book could be his last. While we usually know what our "firsts" were - the first kiss, the first job, the first sushi - we usually do not know what will be the "last". Rarely, we make a conscious decision to do something for the last time, such as in Dyer’s case, his Burning Man experience; describing it he’s well aware that he’s doing it for the last time. Not because he is bored, but because he knows he won’t be able to experience anything new there. Coming back will be truly just a sentimental journey. The stigma of finality gives his experience the mark of freedom, and every moment becomes important.
The Last Days of Federer narrative reminded me of Emmanuel Carrere’s The Kingdom but also of a diary of someone I would like to talk to, partly because that person is extremely witty, and partly because you never know which way the conversation will go. Will it become a description of a narcotic trance or an in-depth analysis of jazz? I have to admit that this way of writing suits me very well. By intertwining information that could be given in a good academic lecture, with lightly examining one’s problems with tennis injuries, I was able to contemplate what old age means to me in a calm, unhurried way. Geoff Dyer’s energetic and humorous writing allows plenty of space for the reader’s reflection on how creativity is impacted by age.
This is not a story about the last matches of a famous tennis player, although they occupy a prominent place in it, but about the last works of artists for whom life meant creating. As their lives drew to an end, their creativity changed along with the weakness of their physical bodies - sometimes it diminished completely, sometimes it manifested itself in a completely different way, like in Beethoven’s case where ‘the dissociation and disintegration themselves become artistic means’.
Geoff Dyer describes the last years of Beethoven, Nietzsche, Turner, and Coltrane, just to name a few subjects of his analysis, looking at them with inquisitiveness, justified by the fact that, being a writer over 60, he cannot resist the thought that perhaps this book could be his last. While we usually know what our "firsts" were - the first kiss, the first job, the first sushi - we usually do not know what will be the "last". Rarely, we make a conscious decision to do something for the last time, such as in Dyer’s case, his Burning Man experience; describing it he’s well aware that he’s doing it for the last time. Not because he is bored, but because he knows he won’t be able to experience anything new there. Coming back will be truly just a sentimental journey. The stigma of finality gives his experience the mark of freedom, and every moment becomes important.
The Last Days of Federer narrative reminded me of Emmanuel Carrere’s The Kingdom but also of a diary of someone I would like to talk to, partly because that person is extremely witty, and partly because you never know which way the conversation will go. Will it become a description of a narcotic trance or an in-depth analysis of jazz? I have to admit that this way of writing suits me very well. By intertwining information that could be given in a good academic lecture, with lightly examining one’s problems with tennis injuries, I was able to contemplate what old age means to me in a calm, unhurried way. Geoff Dyer’s energetic and humorous writing allows plenty of space for the reader’s reflection on how creativity is impacted by age.
May 5, 2023
Geoff Dyer's The Last Days of Roger Federer: And Other Endings is not so much about tennis as it is about last things. At the age of 61, its author examines late works of music, literature, art, and even sports. He talks not only about the late Federer, but the late Nietzsche, the late D H Lawrence, the late John Coltrane, Jack Kerouac, J M W Turner, and Giorgio Chirico. In fact, Dyer touches on so many interesting figures that I lament the book does not have a detailed index.
This is the second book I have read this month that is so rich in artistic allusions that it is worth owning and coming back to again and again. (The other is Sergio Pitol's The Art of Flight.)
If anything characterizes the Dyer works I have read to date, the best word I can think of is variety. The man has a wide-ranging mind -- one which is second to no one else I know who is alive now.
This is the second book I have read this month that is so rich in artistic allusions that it is worth owning and coming back to again and again. (The other is Sergio Pitol's The Art of Flight.)
If anything characterizes the Dyer works I have read to date, the best word I can think of is variety. The man has a wide-ranging mind -- one which is second to no one else I know who is alive now.
July 16, 2022
i have it on good authority that Dyer hasn’t even listened to late era Bob Dylan. also a lot of the book feels a bit like filler but i think this is a rare case of effective filler - how can we even begin to speak directly about “the end” or “ending”? there’s nothing there but silence - Celan and his strict economy of language demonstrated this best, maybe. so instead what can we talk about (or around)? bad knees, psychotic Nietzschean breaks, fading tennis prowess, and so on. the end is what we cross when we come to it, and the act of artistic creation (here in the form of writing) is, amongst other things, a way of prolonging that crossing
May 4, 2022
Geoff Dyer’s new book finds the author in fine form, obsessed with literature, music, tennis and stealing shampoo. Dyer’s wit and curiosity always make his nonfiction work brilliant, and equal to his superb fiction.
August 8, 2024
Ondanks dat het lezen van dit boek veel irritatie veroorzaakte, toch veel interessants gelezen over literatuur en muziek. Het boek is geheel opgebouwd uit kleine stukjes wat het lezen op deze manier aangenamer maakt. Ik had wel andere verwachtingen en een beetje op het verkeerde been gezet door recensies en korte inhoud. Ik las helemaal geen betoverende meditaties over ouder worden. En ook al beloofde de flap - ondanks de titel- over meer te gaan dan tennis, toch gaat het naar mijn aanvoelen voor 2/3 hierover.
Verder gelezen omwille van: de lijstjes en stukjes over literatuur, over muziek (wel veel te weinig over Bob Dylan en veel te veel over Engelse bands die ik niet ken), de uitgebreide beschouwingen over Turner en Nietzsche. (vier sterren)
Vaak willen opgeven of diagonaal verder gelezen omwille van: het autobiografisch gedeelte. Geen boeiende introspectieve stukken, maar oeverloos gezeur en geklets. Geregeld voelde ik weerzin opkomen omwille van zijn gedweep en hang naar excessen en fascinatie, zelfs fixatie tot LSD, DMT en andere. Het jagen op airmiles en de ticketjes voor Burning Man doen mijn ecologische bewustzijnsmeter rood uitslaan.
Verder gelezen omwille van: de lijstjes en stukjes over literatuur, over muziek (wel veel te weinig over Bob Dylan en veel te veel over Engelse bands die ik niet ken), de uitgebreide beschouwingen over Turner en Nietzsche. (vier sterren)
Vaak willen opgeven of diagonaal verder gelezen omwille van: het autobiografisch gedeelte. Geen boeiende introspectieve stukken, maar oeverloos gezeur en geklets. Geregeld voelde ik weerzin opkomen omwille van zijn gedweep en hang naar excessen en fascinatie, zelfs fixatie tot LSD, DMT en andere. Het jagen op airmiles en de ticketjes voor Burning Man doen mijn ecologische bewustzijnsmeter rood uitslaan.
March 11, 2023
Geoff Dyer’s The Last Days of Roger Federer is a cleverly constructed meditation on the last thrusts of the careers of notable artists, musicians and athletes (mostly men) disguised as a rambling essay, or maybe it’s the other way around?
By turns educational, witty, self-indulgent, boring and fascinating, the book is a sampler of the author’s interests, likely to only connect sporadically with the reader’s. If you’re into Beethoven, Nietzsche, Dylan, Turner, jazz, psychedelics and tennis, you’re sorted.
If you’re not, you’re left with Dyer’s turns of phrase, erudite wit and intellectual curiosity - which to be honest was more than enough to carry me aloft until its final pages. Dyer is a formidable writer, but this project - which doubles as reflection on ageing - feels more like a lockdown time-killer than an essential endeavour to fit in before one’s last days.
[One more thing though. In one essay, Dyer calculates that, based on his age and the life expectancy of men in the UK, if his life were a week long it would now be Sunday morning. I did the same calculation (you too should try it), and worked out that in my case, I’m at the Thursday evening point of my life (funny too, as it was actually Thursday evening as I worked this out). And on the one hand it made me a little sad and anxious, and yet on the other, I’ve got the weekend to look forward to!]
By turns educational, witty, self-indulgent, boring and fascinating, the book is a sampler of the author’s interests, likely to only connect sporadically with the reader’s. If you’re into Beethoven, Nietzsche, Dylan, Turner, jazz, psychedelics and tennis, you’re sorted.
If you’re not, you’re left with Dyer’s turns of phrase, erudite wit and intellectual curiosity - which to be honest was more than enough to carry me aloft until its final pages. Dyer is a formidable writer, but this project - which doubles as reflection on ageing - feels more like a lockdown time-killer than an essential endeavour to fit in before one’s last days.
[One more thing though. In one essay, Dyer calculates that, based on his age and the life expectancy of men in the UK, if his life were a week long it would now be Sunday morning. I did the same calculation (you too should try it), and worked out that in my case, I’m at the Thursday evening point of my life (funny too, as it was actually Thursday evening as I worked this out). And on the one hand it made me a little sad and anxious, and yet on the other, I’ve got the weekend to look forward to!]
August 19, 2023
This jumpy, scattered, encyclopedic, name-dropping of a book turned out to be rather charming.
This is a short book, but while reading it I often wished it would be shorter. But now that I am finished, I wish it would have been longer. Because some chapters are just one paragraph long, and there is so much more to explore. And even with all the footnotes, there was still so much (oh so much) left for me to Google.
So be aware that reading this book might be a shocking realization of one’s own ignorance. Mine first of all on tennis, which I know close to nothing about (but I was intrigued enough by the title to read the book), and on so many other topics like classical music, jazz, folk music, literature, poetry, boxing, cavalry, paintings, drugs, philosophy, films, shampoos and much more.
This isn’t a book about endings. It is a book about how to get a sample of many books about all these other things.
It is touching at times, funny at times, but these little gems are very well hidden in the overwhelming pile of random text about absolutely everything.
I recommend reading this book in small chunks, as a reference book. Don’t attempt to read it like a normal book, cover to cover, as I did.
This is a short book, but while reading it I often wished it would be shorter. But now that I am finished, I wish it would have been longer. Because some chapters are just one paragraph long, and there is so much more to explore. And even with all the footnotes, there was still so much (oh so much) left for me to Google.
So be aware that reading this book might be a shocking realization of one’s own ignorance. Mine first of all on tennis, which I know close to nothing about (but I was intrigued enough by the title to read the book), and on so many other topics like classical music, jazz, folk music, literature, poetry, boxing, cavalry, paintings, drugs, philosophy, films, shampoos and much more.
This isn’t a book about endings. It is a book about how to get a sample of many books about all these other things.
It is touching at times, funny at times, but these little gems are very well hidden in the overwhelming pile of random text about absolutely everything.
I recommend reading this book in small chunks, as a reference book. Don’t attempt to read it like a normal book, cover to cover, as I did.
September 26, 2024
https://looneybooks79.blog/2024/09/26...
Toen ik een eerste stap zette in het eerste boek van Geoff Dyer dat ik ooit las, deze 'De laatste dagen van Roger Federer en andere eindes', wist ik niet goed wat te verwachten. De korte inhoud achteraan het boek spreekt over een meditatie van de schrijver die het wil hebben over 'eindes' en over ouder worden maar vooral over kunst, literatuur, muziek en sport. Dus ik verwachtte niks en kreeg meer dan ik verwachtte.
Ik stel me voor dat Geoff bij het schrijven van dit boek zichzelf in lotushouding zag zitten op een matje ergens midden in een bos of ergens in een open vlakte terwijl de dauw op het gras stond, de vogels floten en hij gans weggezakt in zijn eigen gedachten de overpeinzingen maakte die hij dan hier neerpende. En net zoals gedachten soms kunnen doen springt ook dit boek vaak van de hak op de tak, om dan ook terug te komen op het onderwerp waar hij voorheen over sprak.
Beginnen bij het einde van de carrière van Roger Federer was maar een opstapje voor Geoff Dyer om het te kunnen hebben over zijn eigen tennisspel, dat met ouder worden te lijden heeft onder de vele kwalen die iemand die sport beoefent tevoorschijn durven komen. Ook Federer had kwalen die hem noopten te stoppen, maar hij kreeg toch een aantal keer de kans een comeback te maken, een succesvolle comeback welteverstaan. Iets wat bij andere tennissers daarom niet altijd lukte als deze een comeback maakten. Andy Murray is er eentje van die nooit meer hetzelfde succes behaalde als ervoor, na zijn blessure en comeback. (In eigen land denk ik dan aan het onfortuinlijke idee dat Kim Clijsters terug wou herbeginnen en net op dat moment covid de wereld overheerste, waardoor haar kans verkeken was)
Over tennis gesproken, Dyer komt ook uitgebreid te spreken over de rivaliteit tussen Borg en McEnroe (ook verwijzend naar de film met onder andere Shia LaBoeuf).
Geregeld wijkt Geoff af naar andere takken zoals de literatuur waarbij hij hier vooral de focus op Nietsche legt, over de vermeende(?) sympathieën die deze zou hebben met een bepaald Duits regime dat de geschiedenis een zwarte vlek bezorgde, over zijn ruzie met Wagner (die eerder een muziekstuk schreef gebaseerd op een boek van Nietsche, Also sprach Zarathusa). Dan trekt hij plots de lijn door naar Beethoven en naar Bob Dylan. (vaak verloor hij me hier wel in zijn gebazel)
Als hij het over de schilderkunst had kwam Turner dan weer aan bod.
Dyer wipt in deze 'meditatie' over al deze takken van de cultuur en sport heen om zijn eigen ervaringen te kunnen weergeven. De concerten en festivals die hij bezocht en de ervaringen met drugs die hij dan ook had. (vaak werd het een geleuter over de verschillende drugs die hij ooit uitprobeerde, dat dan ook weer niks aan het geheel toevoegde en eerder storend werkte)
Ivo Verheyen voorzag de vertaling en zegt zelf in zijn nawoord iets wat mij ook was opgevallen in dit boek: het is heel moeilijk om humor over te brengen, vooral woordspelingen dan, in een vertaling. Daardoor verliest het boek ook aan kracht en aan inhoud dat alles dan ook in zijn geheel afvlakt. Waarschijnlijk is hier ook de reden in te vinden waarom ik af en toe verloren was in het verhaal en even niet meer volgde wat hij wou overbrengen of waar hij het op dat moment over had.
Er is één metafoor echter dat me enorm aansprak in dit boek, iets waar ik bij dit boek dan ook over heb getwijfeld maar uiteindelijk de raad van Dyer (min of meer) heb gevolgd:
De parachutemetafoor!
Springen uit een vliegtuig dat wordt geraakt door kogels (in een of andere oorlog), dus enige optie is te springen met een parachute maar toch breekt de springer zijn benen en wordt gevangen genomen, naar een gevangenenkamp gebracht en brengt de rest van de oorlog daar door. Later krijgt hij een brief dat het vliegtuig uiteindelijk toch nog veilig en heelhuids is kunnen landen, dus eigenlijk, bedenkt de man zich, was hij gewoon beter blijven zitten!
Dit wordt dan doorgetrokken naar het lezen van boeken. Wanneer beslis je te springen of wanneer beslis je te blijven volhouden? Soms kan een boek je helemaal niet boeien (hetzij onmiddellijk, hetzij na drie kwart van het boek gelezen te hebben) en moet je de keuze maken: lees ik verder, hopend dat het boek ergens naartoe leiden zal en dan toch nog boeiend zal worden, of stop je ter plekke en gooi je het boek in het vuur, met de mogelijkheid dat je uiteindelijk toch nog een heel goed boek niet hebt uitgelezen. (iets wat ik sinds kort dus LFOMO ben beginnen noemen ofwel Literary Fear of Missing out!)
Van Dyer is onlangs nog een boek bij uitgeverij Tzara verschenen: Uit pure Woede. Dit is Dyers verhandeling over de schrijver D.H. Lawrence (Lady Chatterly's Lover) naar wie hij ook in dit boek trouwens verwijst.
Kortom, ik heb dit boek uitgelezen omdat ik verwachtte dat ik anders iets heel hard zou missen (plus alle boeken van deze uitgeverij boeien me meestal genoeg om verder te lezen, raar maar waar). Het is zeker niet het beste boek dat ik in 2024 zal gelezen hebben maar er zitten een aantal heel interessante visies in én heel wat leestips (niet dat ik nog niet genoeg te lezen heb maar er kan altijd nog wel iets bij), zeker als het gaat over klassieke schrijvers!
En hiermee komt er een einde aan een boek over eindes!
Toen ik een eerste stap zette in het eerste boek van Geoff Dyer dat ik ooit las, deze 'De laatste dagen van Roger Federer en andere eindes', wist ik niet goed wat te verwachten. De korte inhoud achteraan het boek spreekt over een meditatie van de schrijver die het wil hebben over 'eindes' en over ouder worden maar vooral over kunst, literatuur, muziek en sport. Dus ik verwachtte niks en kreeg meer dan ik verwachtte.
Ik stel me voor dat Geoff bij het schrijven van dit boek zichzelf in lotushouding zag zitten op een matje ergens midden in een bos of ergens in een open vlakte terwijl de dauw op het gras stond, de vogels floten en hij gans weggezakt in zijn eigen gedachten de overpeinzingen maakte die hij dan hier neerpende. En net zoals gedachten soms kunnen doen springt ook dit boek vaak van de hak op de tak, om dan ook terug te komen op het onderwerp waar hij voorheen over sprak.
Beginnen bij het einde van de carrière van Roger Federer was maar een opstapje voor Geoff Dyer om het te kunnen hebben over zijn eigen tennisspel, dat met ouder worden te lijden heeft onder de vele kwalen die iemand die sport beoefent tevoorschijn durven komen. Ook Federer had kwalen die hem noopten te stoppen, maar hij kreeg toch een aantal keer de kans een comeback te maken, een succesvolle comeback welteverstaan. Iets wat bij andere tennissers daarom niet altijd lukte als deze een comeback maakten. Andy Murray is er eentje van die nooit meer hetzelfde succes behaalde als ervoor, na zijn blessure en comeback. (In eigen land denk ik dan aan het onfortuinlijke idee dat Kim Clijsters terug wou herbeginnen en net op dat moment covid de wereld overheerste, waardoor haar kans verkeken was)
Over tennis gesproken, Dyer komt ook uitgebreid te spreken over de rivaliteit tussen Borg en McEnroe (ook verwijzend naar de film met onder andere Shia LaBoeuf).
Geregeld wijkt Geoff af naar andere takken zoals de literatuur waarbij hij hier vooral de focus op Nietsche legt, over de vermeende(?) sympathieën die deze zou hebben met een bepaald Duits regime dat de geschiedenis een zwarte vlek bezorgde, over zijn ruzie met Wagner (die eerder een muziekstuk schreef gebaseerd op een boek van Nietsche, Also sprach Zarathusa). Dan trekt hij plots de lijn door naar Beethoven en naar Bob Dylan. (vaak verloor hij me hier wel in zijn gebazel)
Als hij het over de schilderkunst had kwam Turner dan weer aan bod.
Dyer wipt in deze 'meditatie' over al deze takken van de cultuur en sport heen om zijn eigen ervaringen te kunnen weergeven. De concerten en festivals die hij bezocht en de ervaringen met drugs die hij dan ook had. (vaak werd het een geleuter over de verschillende drugs die hij ooit uitprobeerde, dat dan ook weer niks aan het geheel toevoegde en eerder storend werkte)
Ivo Verheyen voorzag de vertaling en zegt zelf in zijn nawoord iets wat mij ook was opgevallen in dit boek: het is heel moeilijk om humor over te brengen, vooral woordspelingen dan, in een vertaling. Daardoor verliest het boek ook aan kracht en aan inhoud dat alles dan ook in zijn geheel afvlakt. Waarschijnlijk is hier ook de reden in te vinden waarom ik af en toe verloren was in het verhaal en even niet meer volgde wat hij wou overbrengen of waar hij het op dat moment over had.
Er is één metafoor echter dat me enorm aansprak in dit boek, iets waar ik bij dit boek dan ook over heb getwijfeld maar uiteindelijk de raad van Dyer (min of meer) heb gevolgd:
De parachutemetafoor!
Springen uit een vliegtuig dat wordt geraakt door kogels (in een of andere oorlog), dus enige optie is te springen met een parachute maar toch breekt de springer zijn benen en wordt gevangen genomen, naar een gevangenenkamp gebracht en brengt de rest van de oorlog daar door. Later krijgt hij een brief dat het vliegtuig uiteindelijk toch nog veilig en heelhuids is kunnen landen, dus eigenlijk, bedenkt de man zich, was hij gewoon beter blijven zitten!
Dit wordt dan doorgetrokken naar het lezen van boeken. Wanneer beslis je te springen of wanneer beslis je te blijven volhouden? Soms kan een boek je helemaal niet boeien (hetzij onmiddellijk, hetzij na drie kwart van het boek gelezen te hebben) en moet je de keuze maken: lees ik verder, hopend dat het boek ergens naartoe leiden zal en dan toch nog boeiend zal worden, of stop je ter plekke en gooi je het boek in het vuur, met de mogelijkheid dat je uiteindelijk toch nog een heel goed boek niet hebt uitgelezen. (iets wat ik sinds kort dus LFOMO ben beginnen noemen ofwel Literary Fear of Missing out!)
Van Dyer is onlangs nog een boek bij uitgeverij Tzara verschenen: Uit pure Woede. Dit is Dyers verhandeling over de schrijver D.H. Lawrence (Lady Chatterly's Lover) naar wie hij ook in dit boek trouwens verwijst.
Kortom, ik heb dit boek uitgelezen omdat ik verwachtte dat ik anders iets heel hard zou missen (plus alle boeken van deze uitgeverij boeien me meestal genoeg om verder te lezen, raar maar waar). Het is zeker niet het beste boek dat ik in 2024 zal gelezen hebben maar er zitten een aantal heel interessante visies in én heel wat leestips (niet dat ik nog niet genoeg te lezen heb maar er kan altijd nog wel iets bij), zeker als het gaat over klassieke schrijvers!
En hiermee komt er een einde aan een boek over eindes!
July 21, 2022
A beautiful, poignant book about endings that I hoped wouldn’t end.
February 2, 2023
a far
too smug piece of work
too smug piece of work
November 22, 2023
I woke up this morning and took the last teabag out of the box. I thought about it for a while. Many things were happening at once. Not only was I precluding myself from having a cup of tea in the immediate future, but I was also doing the same for all my flatmates without giving them any say in the matter. In a way it was a type of ending – no more would I have the feeling of abundance that one gets when they take a brand-new box of tea out of its plastic anorak, 300 fresh bags all waiting to be brewed and consumed.
Only a book like this would make me think so deeply about something so banal and perhaps that’s where its value lies. I enjoyed learning more about Nietzsche, various Jazz artists and Geoff Dyer’s drug consumption. However, overall, this book has left be slightly disappointed. It was my first experience of Dyer’s work, having been strongly recommended his writing by numerous sources on the metaverse. Terms like ‘greatest living writer’ have been bandied about. Now I feel I’m in no place to either confirm nor deny this claim, but while reading a book about endings, I often felt a strong desire to end it myself. I spent vast swathes not really interested in what Dyer was writing, hoping desperately that Nietzsche or Martin Amis’ name would pop up again so I could immerse myself in what did capture my attention.
Maybe this is a fault of mine. Maybe Dyer’s dilletante nature simply doesn’t appeal to me. I will try him again at some point in the future, but for now I’m fairly glad to have it over.
Only a book like this would make me think so deeply about something so banal and perhaps that’s where its value lies. I enjoyed learning more about Nietzsche, various Jazz artists and Geoff Dyer’s drug consumption. However, overall, this book has left be slightly disappointed. It was my first experience of Dyer’s work, having been strongly recommended his writing by numerous sources on the metaverse. Terms like ‘greatest living writer’ have been bandied about. Now I feel I’m in no place to either confirm nor deny this claim, but while reading a book about endings, I often felt a strong desire to end it myself. I spent vast swathes not really interested in what Dyer was writing, hoping desperately that Nietzsche or Martin Amis’ name would pop up again so I could immerse myself in what did capture my attention.
Maybe this is a fault of mine. Maybe Dyer’s dilletante nature simply doesn’t appeal to me. I will try him again at some point in the future, but for now I’m fairly glad to have it over.
August 29, 2023
Este livro alberga uma panóplia de personalidades e das mais variadas áreas. Bob Dylan, Roger Federer, Coltrane, Nietzsche, são apenas alguns dos exemplos que podemos encontrar no núcleo deste livro. A premissa é uma: abordar os últimos dias, as últimas obras ou feitos de cada indivíduo.
Geoff Dyer escreve de forma descontraída, mas sem deixar de incutir o âmbito mais interventivo e pessoal sobre o objeto da escrita. Além dos textos opinativos, aplica um humor quase que invisível e que nos atinge como se de uma vírgula se tratasse.
Geoff Dyer escreve de forma descontraída, mas sem deixar de incutir o âmbito mais interventivo e pessoal sobre o objeto da escrita. Além dos textos opinativos, aplica um humor quase que invisível e que nos atinge como se de uma vírgula se tratasse.
July 8, 2025
Dyer’s “late style” is a congeries (at best; less charitably, a farrago) of erudite but desultory riffs on Nietzche & Adorno interspersed with vapid tales of doing drugs with beau monde Angelenos and (incredibly) stealing shampoo from posh hotels.
June 6, 2022
I have loved Geoff Dyer ever since I read The Missing Of The Somme about 15 years ago now. I don't always like what he writes, but he is always fascinating and has a way of looking at the world and sharing it with the reader that allows you to shift perspective and think about things in a way that you wouldn't always do.
This book is a book about endings, or trying to end things and largely not succeeding. It explores what quitting looks like in various ways. It is broken into myriad tiny sections which weave in and out and thread back to the main theme and each other. It is about tennis and drugs and music and Nietzsche and writing and the pandemic amongst other things.
There were sections I loved and sections I didn't. I have to say that I found the structure of the book rather frustrating because it hops about and breaks up all the time. There were moments of wonder and moments where I found things rather plodding and it was, for me, wildly uneven.
This book is a book about endings, or trying to end things and largely not succeeding. It explores what quitting looks like in various ways. It is broken into myriad tiny sections which weave in and out and thread back to the main theme and each other. It is about tennis and drugs and music and Nietzsche and writing and the pandemic amongst other things.
There were sections I loved and sections I didn't. I have to say that I found the structure of the book rather frustrating because it hops about and breaks up all the time. There were moments of wonder and moments where I found things rather plodding and it was, for me, wildly uneven.
November 23, 2022
The greatest thrill of reading The Last Days has less to do with the book itself, which was mostly good and sometimes excellent, than the author: As I was about 15 pages in, it was obvious that Geoff Dyer could become one of my favorite writers, and after finishing this book, I would close-to run through traffic to read him again. I loved his lucid sentences, his wit, his meditations; I envied his shoot-the-shit way of referencing literature, music and books, even more so since he sticked the landing on the points he wanted to make; most of all, I was most convinced by the fact that Dyer was a critic who has digested the culture of and before his times, and what remains is a distinct point of view on and of the world.
That's who I most want to be: someone with a point of view. I'm also pretty afraid that that's what I can't be.
This is something that I'll reflect upon more in my year-in-review Goodreads post, but it's clear to me that I'm now right in the thick of my formative years of reading*. The books that I read in 2022, like 2021 and 2020 before it, not just impact but will be my tastes, be my point of view; the books I don't read of course won't. There is not an infinity of formative years left for, as maybe I thought there was in 2018 or 2019, so it's more obvious than ever to me that I do have to be deliberate on what goes on the reading list in 2023. Not to be melodramatic, but it could in no small way affect the person I end up becoming.
Dyer even does reflect upon reading authors late in his life, or the ways that writers he's read in his 40s haven't changed him:
"The best way I can describe it is via Cioran's wise observation that the further one advances in life the less there is to convert to. Some writers are so strong with such distinct and profound a vision of the world as to affect you in the psychic space where that urge - to convert - once had resided. You respond to that power even as you know that conversion would be a regression, a stupid insult to the writer in question." (77)
We become who we are, but don't "regress" back to a point where we could become someone else. So no pressure, but choose wisely these next couple of years! Maybe including a few more books from Geoff Dyer wouldn't be all too bad :)
*Which is just to simply say that I'm in my formative years, aka my 20s.
That's who I most want to be: someone with a point of view. I'm also pretty afraid that that's what I can't be.
This is something that I'll reflect upon more in my year-in-review Goodreads post, but it's clear to me that I'm now right in the thick of my formative years of reading*. The books that I read in 2022, like 2021 and 2020 before it, not just impact but will be my tastes, be my point of view; the books I don't read of course won't. There is not an infinity of formative years left for, as maybe I thought there was in 2018 or 2019, so it's more obvious than ever to me that I do have to be deliberate on what goes on the reading list in 2023. Not to be melodramatic, but it could in no small way affect the person I end up becoming.
Dyer even does reflect upon reading authors late in his life, or the ways that writers he's read in his 40s haven't changed him:
"The best way I can describe it is via Cioran's wise observation that the further one advances in life the less there is to convert to. Some writers are so strong with such distinct and profound a vision of the world as to affect you in the psychic space where that urge - to convert - once had resided. You respond to that power even as you know that conversion would be a regression, a stupid insult to the writer in question." (77)
We become who we are, but don't "regress" back to a point where we could become someone else. So no pressure, but choose wisely these next couple of years! Maybe including a few more books from Geoff Dyer wouldn't be all too bad :)
*Which is just to simply say that I'm in my formative years, aka my 20s.
June 24, 2022
I guess I've never read Geoff Dyer before (seems unlikely but I can't find any evidence on the internet that I've done so...) so am unsure if he *always* spends so much time talking about dudes like Beethoven, Nietzsche, Larkin, Turner, and Longfellow but oh man did my thoughts wander during these parts, of which there are many, in The Last Days of Roger Federer, which consists of a long series of ruminations on the concepts of final works, careers ends, and dying days of, mostly, artists, writers, musicians, and athletes.
That said, I did like hearing his thoughts on how *he's* dealing with being in his 60s (I turned 59 in April, and had a literal heart attack soon after), as well people such as Bob Dylan and, yes, the titular tennis player, about whom he actually spends very little time talking about. Also his riffs on Burning Man and the difficulty of knowing which time should be the last time he goes (same with doing DMT and other drugs), the weird phenomenon of feeling happy when a concert / reading / social event is *over,* and you can go home and think with satisfaction "ok I did it" even if you've enjoyed being there, and his rejection of judging a life on how it played out in chronological order, like when people make fun of Boris Becker because I guess he's old and overweight and broke now even though the guy won six grand slam titles in his youth, which is lot more titles than I (and most everyone else on the planet) ever won.
So I don't know. He's entertaining but tedious, smart but occasionally smug, open- and broad-minded but also a bit chauvinistic. Up to you.
That said, I did like hearing his thoughts on how *he's* dealing with being in his 60s (I turned 59 in April, and had a literal heart attack soon after), as well people such as Bob Dylan and, yes, the titular tennis player, about whom he actually spends very little time talking about. Also his riffs on Burning Man and the difficulty of knowing which time should be the last time he goes (same with doing DMT and other drugs), the weird phenomenon of feeling happy when a concert / reading / social event is *over,* and you can go home and think with satisfaction "ok I did it" even if you've enjoyed being there, and his rejection of judging a life on how it played out in chronological order, like when people make fun of Boris Becker because I guess he's old and overweight and broke now even though the guy won six grand slam titles in his youth, which is lot more titles than I (and most everyone else on the planet) ever won.
So I don't know. He's entertaining but tedious, smart but occasionally smug, open- and broad-minded but also a bit chauvinistic. Up to you.
dnf
July 19, 2022Picked this up after seeing a friend rave about it, but I should have done a bit more research. The topics aren't to my interest so I am giving up, I'm sure that fans of the author and the subject matter will love it though
May 16, 2022
Literature, music, sport, travel, personal quirks - all this and more covered in numbered chapters, by a writer who loves writing and cannot stop. Like a conversation with a very erudite friend.
June 30, 2022
Enjoyed this book very much. Have never read anything by him before and hope to read more of his previous books.
January 25, 2023
Didn't finish. Incoherent; no story line, just a selection of random thoughts. Reads like a 6AM bar conversation. :-)
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