Ersatz TLS discussion

Here we are again. Last week of May deserves some flowers, don't you think? Here's a lovely posy from my brother's (very disheveled) garden (also added to our Photos page):



We have a new member this week - I hope oggie's post convinces other lurkers to come forward! Welcome, oggie!



Did you know author William Trevor was also a sculptor?

Here are the 10 Best Michael Chabon books, per Ereads. I (mostly) agree.

The 2020 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Prize winner:

Her Dear John missive flapped unambiguously in the windy breeze, hanging like a pizza menu on the doorknob of my mind.

Ninety-two books by or about Bob Dylan...

Vote for your favorite Dylan album here. (I voted for 'Blood on the Tracks')

And finally, here are this week's Literary Birthdays, sans GR links. I was almost finished adding the links, when Mario walked across my keyboard. I'll get the links added later today, after I've finished chastising the rascal.

Lljones wrote: "Here we are again. Last week of May deserves some flowers, don't you think? Here's a lovely posy from my brother's (very disheveled) garden (also added to our Photos page):



We have a new member ..."

Lovely flowers.

The German name for peonies is 'pentecost roses'. My earliest, paeonia officinalis, is late and tells me I should stick her job description where the sun doesn't shine. Did it without moving a finger. Has been cold and rainy for weeks here.

Piqued by Walter Salles's cinematic adaption, watched recently and which I wholeheartedly detested, I re-read Jack Kerouac's On the Road. Twenty odd years after first stumbling on it (right after finishing The Dharma Bums in Portuguese translation) I enjoyed it more than the first time round. Granted, it takes a little of obstination to hold on to the book, in the sense that its narrative feels somewhat repetitive and (some might say) boring, but Kerouac had a definite talent for description, mingling jazz-infused demotic cadences with more elaborate literary constructions. I know most people think this is a book to read as a young man, or maybe a late teen, but when you grow older you appreciate Kerouac's prose differently and take his book for what it really conveys (as much of what he subsequently wrote, it is deep down a spiritual novel), beyond the mere ode to liberty and cannabis and sex on the roads and cities of America.

In the 20+ years between the two reads, On the Road has quietly ascended the steps of academe and made an appearance in some American literature curricula. Guess it's become unshackled from the position of literary curio imposed on it by critics for decades, slowly emerging from the rank of popular beatnik pre-hippy subculture onto serious literature. Or perhaps I'm just unnecessarily gilding the pill.

Slawkenbergius wrote: "Piqued by Walter Salles's cinematic adaption, watched recently and which I wholeheartedly detested, I re-read Jack Kerouac's [bookcover:Road Novels 1957–1960: On the Road / The Dharma Bums / The Su..."

Ah, that is interesting. I've circled lazily around the idea of re-visiting those most-hated books from my youth to see if I could find something redeemable after the tiretracks and ecological slump that the intervening 30 years have left on my no longer world-changing psyche. On The Road rides shotgun to Catcher In The Rye in my mental list of "maybe it ages well?" literature. Probably I should try another book from either of those authors first, because I chucked them down the mental coal chute from which they've never yet clawed their way out.

Slawkenbergius wrote: "Piqued by Walter Salles's cinematic adaption, watched recently and which I wholeheartedly detested, I re-read Jack Kerouac's [bookcover:Road Novels 1957–1960: On the Road / The Dharma Bums / The Su..."

It would be interesting to know how high (or rather low) the percentage of female fans of Kerouac and the other Beat generation authors has been over the last 50+ years.

Hi folks, lovely to see Lisa's flowers. I also have one peony flower in the garden which is amazing considering how lousy the weather has been. I drove home from the supermarket in a hailstorm. It's nearly June for goodness sake! Rant over.

I am really disappointed with the second of Ann Swinfen's Medieval Mysteries, The Novices Tale. After really enjoying the first, I found this far too predictable and didn't finish it. I must be getting less tolerant in my old age!

Some may remember my comments on the city of Volterra which I discovered in the first of a series by David P. Wagner and where I shall be visiting next in September 2022. Well another coincidence - in his 3rd book in the series Rick Montoya, the hero,
visits Bassano del Grappa and guess what, that is on the itinerary for my June 2022 holiday.

Torrential showers in the shires as i crossed county lines for a dental check up, which was pain free and helped by a gift of biltong from my dentist

The Way To Santiago by Arthur Calder-Marshall (1940) is a strange mix of Greene-esque class and something else, there is an element of the Mexican soil in his writing (he lived there for a few years). Oddly some of the sentences seem missing nouns and scan badly, though its not a translation and while the Mexico City scenes were good, the jungle based sections are hit and miss. I strongly recommend it though and have 70 pages to go

The Confines of The Shadow by Alessendro Spina continues to fascinate, as he plays off traditional Benghazi arab scenes with the italian community chatter and gossip. The stand off between the Italian fleet and the Sanussi warlords remains as the prose winds in and out....

The Channel by Renaud Morieux is an ambitious historical study based on his PHD, looking at the English Channel as a frontier and a shared space between the coastal peoples of England and France from 1688 to 1815. He is looking to avoid the simple history of 18th century antagonism and instead wants to look at how the two peoples interacted as this period developed, which he calls "The Second Hundred Years War"

Georg wrote: "It would be interesting to know how high (or rather low) the percentage of female fans of Kerouac and the other Beat generation authors has been over the last 50+ years."

I don't know but maybe not as low as you think. The arch-authority in Beat literature is a woman - Ann Charters -, and Amy Hungerford, a professor of English at Yale, includes it in the list of required reading for her course on American novels post-1945.

Paul wrote: "Ah, that is interesting. I've circled lazily around the idea of re-visiting those most-hated books from my youth to see if I could find something redeemable after the tiretracks and ecological slump that the intervening 30 years have left on my no longer world-changing psyche."

Frankly, I don't see things that way. Novels (and works of literature generally speaking) belong to the world that saw them emerge. One might cringe at passages that hurt our sensibility in this post-#metoo age but that shouldn't deter the reader from appreciating literariness in a work of fiction (or non-fiction for that matter). Otherwise, there's absolutely no point in reading the classics.

Paul wrote: "Slawkenbergius wrote: "Piqued by Walter Salles's cinematic adaption, watched recently and which I wholeheartedly detested, I re-read Jack Kerouac's [bookcover:Road Novels 1957–1960: On the Road / T..."

generally re-visiting my most hated books of the enforced school studies has been 50% successful, maybe even higher and the loathing was replaced with understanding. i made sure though that i looked at these books through my own eyes not the faded memories of the GCSE-A Level curriculum in the 1990-1994 period

i am still quite suprised i embraced literature from the age of 24, after about 5 years ferocious rejection of the texts that tormented me on family holidays and other times of year. I suppose maturity could be an explanation but at 24 i was till saying "yah-boo" to the man and the established order of "ye shalt work for the man" but it has led me to wonderful novels and non-fiction in last 21 yrs

The one black mark is re-reading, right now i think i have re-read about 3 books. i clearly am not a re-reader but i guess when i'#m 65 (if i make it that far in 20 years time), i will probably have started re-reading and shifted to kindle due to physical space limitations..lol

Oh, AB, 65 is still quite young, you’ll find nooks for the books and there are always new ones coming along, still books from earlier than today that you won’t have yet read . A few you may re-read, most you will forget until you get into the book again, a very special few you will remember totally.

Something different.

I have been dipping into an old paperback, the pages looking positively tea stained, called The Ability to Kill by Eric Ambler ( published 1953), a book full of detailed accounts of people who have indeed killed. Looking for something else I came across this slim book wedged between two heftier tomes and opened it randomly to read about Alfred Rouse.

Rouse was a charismatic charmer who is said to have had more than eighty affairs, fathered numerous illegitimate children, married three women bigamously. His work as a commercial traveller took him countrywide giving him ample opportunity to indulge his promiscuity. He was married but his legitimate wife could not bear a child.

The number of claims upon him for child support grew until he simply could not cope , he didn’t have enough money and he devised a plan to fake his death to solve his problems. Rouse befriended a destitute man, a man hitchhiking, plied him with whisky to drink until he passed out. Rouse had chosen the day after Guy Fawkes night, November 6th 1930 for this deed assuming that a fire would not be thought abnormal at that time His plan was to burn the car and the man; this he did, the case being known as the ‘Blazing car murder’. Unfortunately for Rouse, as he walked a distance away from the burning vehicle he passed two young men who had been to a dance, witnesses.

Mrs Rouse was not shown the charred remains but identified some possessions as her husband’s belongings but Phyllis Jenkins, one of Rouse’s amours told the police that she had seen him after the car was burnt, Rouse was caught, tried and hanged on 10 March 1931.

I looked up the case on the internet and it notes that the identity of his victim has never been found out. Since then there have been 9 attempts at matching preserved tissue samples without success and it is still not known. Rouse in his written story published in the Daily Sketch on the day he was hanged, tells that he attached no importance to knowing the man’s identity saying ‘ I had no reason to do so’.

It did make me wonder if any family tree enthusiasts had rather a shock of they found that they were descended from one of his many offspring , that is if the father’s name is given. As Rouse was said to be very fond of all his children it may have been included.

"A classic story of hubris followed by nemesis."

Yet another Philip Roth-centered podcast from Jeet Heer, this one concentrating on the possibility that a large number of Roth’s papers will be destroyed by the Roth estate now that they have been used to write his official biography.

The discussion gets into the issue of literary estates, their power, and responsibilities. In addition to the Roth estate, mention is made of issues handled and mishandled by other literary estates from Virgil and Kafka through Dr Seuss and Charles Schulz. It sounds like the lawyer controlling the Harper Lee estate is some kind of MAGA-head. Unfortunately, the fascinating matter of Steinbeck’s werewolf novel is not mentioned.

CCCubbon wrote: "Oh, AB, 65 is still quite young, you’ll find nooks for the books and there are always new ones coming along, still books from earlier than today that you won’t have yet read . A few you may re-read..."

thanks CCC, thats lovely to know...though 65 is twenty years off still!

On Ambler, i made a false start with a few of his later books on commute reads but loved Epitaph for a Spy a few years back, not read on the commute but at home

Bill wrote: ""A classic story of hubris followed by nemesis."Yet another Philip Roth-centered podcast from Jeet Heer, this one concentrating on the possibility that a large number of Roth’s papers will be destr..."

i do think the legacy of an authors estate relies heavily on the persons intrusted with the estate and how many safeguards are built into it. I am fascinated by old unpublished texts (maybe including Werewolves) that get a new lease of posthumous life but one wonders if the authors would have vetoed publication if they were still alive

Anne wrote: "AB76 wrote: "Does anyone here like [author:Rose Macaulay..."

I've started The Towers of Trebizond three times and gave up early on each time. She should be right up my street but that's put me off trying anything else by her.

Catching up with your comment from last week, I totally agree - except for me once was enough! I very rarely give up on a book. I tried it some years ago, expecting pleasure. After about 50 pages, I just couldn't summon the interest to carry on, and like you I won't be trying another of hers.

Russell wrote: "Anne wrote: "AB76 wrote: "Does anyone here like [author:Rose Macaulay..."

I've started The Towers of Trebizond three times and gave up early on each time. She should be right up my street but that..."

I ordered a book of hers direct from the wonderful indie published Handheld books and hope to read it this year.

I am making a big effort to order books i am interested in direct from the small publishers, especially after the last 12 mths of disruption

CCCubbon wrote: "Something different.

I have been dipping into an old paperback, the pages looking positively tea stained, called The Ability to Kill by Eric Ambler ( published 1953), a book full of detailed acco..."

Some interesting books on forensics which include the Rouse case:

Lethal Witness by Andrew Rose is an interesting if rather hatchet job biography of Sir Bernard Spilsbury

or Mostly Murder the autobiography of Professor Sir Sidney Smith who, incidentally clashed with Spilsbury on occasion.

You tend to need a bit of a strong stomach though!

Slawkenbergius wrote: "Piqued by Walter Salles's cinematic adaption, watched recently and which I wholeheartedly detested, I re-read Jack Kerouac's [bookcover:Road Novels 1957–1960: On the Road / The Dharma Bums / The Su..."

I didn't detest* On the Road when I read it at what should have been just the right age, my early 20s, but neither did it make a great impression on me. I still want to try some of Kerouac's other books, though. Is there any recommended order to them? Or any that stand out to Kerouac readers here?

*(edit: sorry, just realised it was the movie you detested, not the book. )

by Ian Rankin

This is (I think) the 23rd book in Rankin's John Rebus series. Rebus is now retired, and not in the best of health - he has COPD, and has just moved from his upstairs flat to one on the ground floor of the same building - to avoid having to climb the stairs. He has given up smoking, and drinks far more cups of tea than beers or whisky... reminds me of that Stones line: "What a drag it is getting old!" from "Mother's Little Helper". I do feel it's a pity that our fictional hero is ageing - if he must, can't he do it at a slower rate than the rest of us? Poor old Rebus doesn't sound as if he could fight his way out of a paper bag any more; at least, he doesn't (yet) appear to have prostate problems, and his mind is still sharp...

As for the plot: I don't think this is a spoiler (it happens very early and is mentioned on the cover) Rebus's son-in-law has gone missing, so he departs for the far north of Scotland to help the search. In the meantime, his old muckers Siobhan and Fox have a murder to solve in Edinburgh. At some point, the cases are linked by a couple of individuals who appear to have links both to the north and to the dead Saudi in Edinburgh, so the 'tecs collaborate and exchange information. The investigations then proceed in parallel, until the endings - which felt rather sudden to me.

I love the Rebus series, and have read them all - but this doesn't feel like one of the better ones. Perhaps it's because of the man's growing weakness - I like my Rebus to be at least able to give a decent account of himself in a fight - but it did feel like quite a slight tale. If Rankin is so inclined, I'd prefer it if he wrote a few prequels to show Rebus as a young-ish detective, following the example of (for example) Arnaldur Indridason with his Erlendur series. Then, at least, Rebus would not be obliged to drink endless cups of tea.

(Best joke in the book: a detective always accepts cups of tea, but never drinks them. When asked about this, he says: "I don't like tea... but they seem to enjoy making it, so...")

A few responses to some other comments:

I wasn't young when I read 'On the Road' and 'The Catcher in the Rye', and enjoyed both of them... though Kerouac maybe less, as I don't recall seeking out his other books - or if I did, I liked them less.

As for Salinger - he seemed to publish very little, and I read and enjoyed most of what was available... I think that Salinger is a bit of a Marmite author (if I understand correctly), so a potential reader can probably suss out if he is for them by just reading the first paragraph from 'Catcher', which goes like this:

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them.”

That made me laugh out loud, and I was hooked... if you don't like the narrative voice, don't bother.

scarletnoir wrote: " by Ian Rankin

This is (I think) the 23rd book in Rankin's John Rebus series. Rebus is now retired, and not in the best of health - he has COPD, and h..."

This wasn’t one of the best, I agree. The Rebus parts in the north seemed to work better for me. Poor old boy.
My ex used to go on about undrunk ( is that a word) tea way back in the 60s when he walked the beat. His pet hate was all the little white bits that float on top when the milk is on the turn!

CCCubbon wrote: "His pet hate was all the little white bits that float on top when the milk is on the turn!"

So say all of us... when that happens, I just throw the tea down the sink...

I forgot to mention that in the book, Siobhan discovers that Rebus has a stash of unsolved case files... so, I wonder, will Rankin go down that route in future? It could be a clever way of giving us decent passages of Rebus as a younger man (during the original investigation) topped up by his old-age reviews and, presumably, solutions to those forgotten crimes.

Another thing I meant to say - it was a bit surprising to see a bit of product placement for Karin Slaughter and Lee Child ('Reacher') in the book - it's not as if they need the help! Did Rankin meet and get on well with these two at a convention? Child has provided a comment for the book cover... This seemed like a new and rather unwelcome departure. I know that Rebus/Rankin often includes complimentary remarks on a large number of musical acts, but that feels different.

(I've read the Reachers; is Slaughter any good? I have been put off by her name until now, as it seemed a silly pen-name to choose - but, apparently, it's her real name, as I have just now discovered. There you go.)

Slawkenbergius wrote: "One might cringe at passages that hurt our sensibility in this post-#metoo age but that shouldn't deter the reader from appreciating literariness in a work of fiction."

I didn't dislike Kerouac from a sense of pruriency, but from utter lack of interest. I can read racists or anti-semites or drunks and addicts philanderers and find a common humanity despite the changing cultural mores. I didn't find On The Road interesting or well-written, and it's deification of a wife-beating drug addict was unpalatable even at 16 years old. That doesn't seem to be a product of its times or relatable as the sands pass through the hourglass. Rather, it's vaunted position seems to be a product of its times, when a book could shock by showing drug use or swear words (along with Norman Mailer, Nelson Algren, etc) Salinger, I suspect, I didn't like because the little shit protagonist was too mirror-like in its reflection for me to be comfortable.

I honestly can't imagine On The Road becoming fathomable or palatable, but I am fairly tempted to try. I suspect that my 40-plus year old fatherly self could find quite a bit of sympathy for Holden Caulfield, but Sal Paradise would likely evoke the same feelings I have for pet iguanas. For that reason alone, I think I would need to try another of Kerouac's works to decide if I found him remotely legible. The same could be said for William S Burroughs. I haven't gotten along well with The Beats.

My read this past week has been China Miéville's and it was far better than I had anticipated. I had previously read his Kraken and found it a tired exercise in authorial braggadoccio, noisy style without much substance.

The City & The City, instead, was far more restrained and much more compelling. More police procedural than science fiction, it struck me as a measured dose of Miévilliean voice which was an odd choice to have won the Arthur C. Clarke award.
Set in a divided city, just one plane of existence away from Nicosia in which the division is not physical but psychological, held in place by a rigorous mental training to unsee the other foreign city overlaid and intertwined. By itself, it's an interesting commentary on city life and the willful ignorance of their inhabitants. How children can see the beggars and tent cities thir parents ignore, how the city center privileged can remain utterly ignorant of the far-lying sprawl. It's clearly an accusing look on classist socities from London to Wichita to Mumbai.

Within this highly constructed, sometimes difficult to parse geopolitical edifice the narrative traces a homicide detective who has to track down the killer of a visiting archeologist by traveling to the 'other coutry' lying alongside him and asks what will occupy and foment within the spaces we choose not to see. Where the deplorables lie and the unassimilated gather.

Definitely recommended, much better than I had hoped.

Now I'm onto reading, slowly, my next book down on the pile;

Paul wrote: "I haven't gotten along well with The Beats."

I've never really understood this term, or known exactly who is included... what about Charles Bukowski? Is he one? I liked his Post Office and Ham on Rye.

I have never felt tempted by Burroughs - it sounds a bit too disgusting - but maybe that's a false preconception.

I have never read 'The Pursuit of Love', or seen any prior adaptations, so came to the BBC series with no preconceptions, and found it great fun - I gather that some objected to the anachronistic soundtrack, but I thought that the snatches of songs and music perfectly caught the mood of the scenes in which they were used... and if you get to revisit the Stones' 'Not fade away', even if briefly - what's not to like?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gIKfN...

Paul wrote: "I didn't dislike Kerouac from a sense of pruriency, but from utter lack of interest ... William S Burroughs. I haven't gotten along well with The Beats."

Damn straight. Bunch of hacks if you ask me. Allen Ginsburg edited Naked Lunch, so I'm inclined to think poorly of him also.

scarletnoir wrote: "Paul wrote: "I haven't gotten along well with The Beats."

I've never really understood this term, or known exactly who is included... what about Charles Bukowski? Is he one? I liked his [book:Post..."

You know, it wasn't so much the gross factor of burroughs that turned me off. It was ridiculous and near on unreadable, but it could be compartmentalized or understood in the sense of the drug horror. What I could never get past with Burroughs, was his collage approach to story. The intentional mish-mash of story to create something not otherwise contained in the linear structure. For me, it's the literary equivalent of taking an oak tree, pulping it and saying 'you never imagined this coming from that tree did you?" when the tree was far more beautiful than the pile of white fibers.

scarletnoir wrote: "Paul wrote: "I haven't gotten along well with The Beats."

I've never really understood this term, or known exactly who is included... what about Charles Bukowski? Is he one? I liked his [book:Post..."
I don't know about Bukowski. He struck me as an island unto himself, not part of any movement. I'm not overly fond of him either, but he could write beautiful phrases within the mire of degradation. I have no idea whether Kerouac was able to create beauty, I never overcame Sal Paradise and Neal Cassaday

Paul wrote: "I'm onto reading, slowly, my next book down on the pile..."

I'll be interested to see what you make of Women Talking
I read it at the beginning of this month (in the week April 26th discussion) & Andy also thought it was good.
Have you read any of her other books?

Gpfr wrote: "Paul wrote: "I'm onto reading, slowly, my next book down on the pile..."

I'll be interested to see what you make of Women Talking

I adore Miriam Toews! All of her books are fantastic, powerful.

Lljones wrote: "I adore Miriam Toews!"

Me too

Paul wrote: "it's deification of a wife-beating drug addict was unpalatable even at 16 years old.

Come again? I think you're mixing On the Road with some other novel.

MEXICO in English Literature

As i reach the final stages of Calder-Marshalls WW2 set thriller The Way to Santiago 1940, i have been thinking about Anglo-Saxon depictions of Mexico and its culture in fiction and non-fiction

Alongside Calder Marshall, we have Lowry, Greene and Bowles all covering the country, Greene in both fiction and non-fiction. Its interesting thatMexico has a fascination for Anglo writers. Maybe the chaotic spell of revolutions and uprisings was what sparked the interest

(I havent read Greene or Lowry's Mexican works, while the Bowles novel is on my TBR pile

Slawkenbergius wrote: "Paul wrote: "it's deification of a wife-beating drug addict was unpalatable even at 16 years old.

Come again? I think you're mixing On the Road with some other novel."

Actually, I forgot that Neal Cassaday was the actual person's name, when he was Dean Moriarity in the book.
I don't recall if he actually beat his many wives in the book, or if he just abandoned them left and right for whatever good time he found along the way (although I'm fairly sure he bragged about smacking one or two fo them around, because it left a strong enough impression to remain in my head for 30 years. I could be wrong though). I do remember him sponging off of prostitutes in Denver while discussing how he'd left a pregnant wife behind.

That was one of the unexpected surprises in The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, showing the deconstructed and emasculated Moriarity character, and turning the On The Road anti-hero into a drugged-out rambler washed up along the railroad tracks.
I've never had a problem of the rejection of status quo ambition inherent in the Beat movement per se, but the backwards looking recidivism in the drop-out culture was just empty nihilism.

Like I said, though it's been 30 odd years so my memory could be off.

Gpfr wrote: "Have you read any of her other books?"

Nope, this will be the first. I know Lisa will nominate All My Puny Sorrows as an eventual follow-up

Slawkenbergius wrote: "Paul wrote: "it's deification of a wife-beating drug addict was unpalatable even at 16 years old.

Come again? I think you're mixing On the Road with some other novel."

Quite possibly - I had a look at a synopsis, and the only 'wife beating' comment I could find was this one:

"Camille is pregnant and unhappy, and Dean has injured his thumb trying to hit Marylou for sleeping with other men."

I read it too long ago to take sides, though!

Paul wrote: "Gpfr wrote: "Have you read any of her other books?"

Nope, this will be the first. I know Lisa will nominate All My Puny Sorrows as an eventual follow-up"

😉 Actually, I would have preferred you start with ALMPS, but we'll see how it goes.

Paul wrote: "(although I'm fairly sure he bragged about smacking one or two fo them around, because it left a strong enough impression to remain in my head for 30 years. I could be wrong though)"

Nope, don't recall seeing that. It must be your memory playing tricks on you.

I don't think Dean Moriarty gets deified in the novel either. If anything, On the Road is the chronicle of one great moment of exhilaration and frenzy and then the inevitable slope down to a kind of subdued existence. Moriarty is the sparkle of energy and excess that ignites a group of young bohemians looking for a good time and 'kicks' in a greyish post-war America. But if you read carefully the situation starts to change halfway the book. Maybe it's maturity having its effects or simply a general sense of tiresomeness, but Moriarty's friends commence to turn their backs on him, and it all goes progressively down right until the end of the book, when Sal Paradise, his biggest buddy, lets him alone in the streets of New York. Almost everybody thinks Dean's main weapon is his sex drive, not only because he accumulates lovers and wives along the way but because he only thinks about getting laid wherever he goes. And yet, it's not too difficult to realise that his biggest asset is the hability to persuade other people (not just women) and he does it not only through the display of sheer energy and physical stamina but mainly by his convoluted, crazy speech. In the end of the book, he lost it; he just cannot formulate a single sentence, nothing that really makes sense. The spell is broken and he ends up all alone; he becomes a pathetic figure unable to articulate a single thought. On the Road is at once a novel about friendship and the quest for the unattainable absolute ('IT' in Dean's words) and the story of a fallen angel, the decline and fall of Dean Moriarty.

I think we can establish lots of links with many other novels. The relationship between Dean and Sal reminded me of the one between Sebastian Flyte and Charles Ryder in Brideshead Revisited. Both books are first-person narratives reminiscing on past events; Sebastian and Dean are the (anti-)heroes and the narrators build their narratives around them; both are some sort of 'fools of God', both able to attract as much as repell and seem inbued with singular spiritual gifts, though they never seem to get anywhere with it. They're some sort of Percival-inspired characters looking endlessly for the Holy Grail and getting inexorably wrong.

scarletnoir wrote: "A few responses to some other comments:

I wasn't young when I read 'On the Road' and 'The Catcher in the Rye', and enjoyed both of them... though Kerouac maybe less, as I don't recall seeking out ..."

I can still remember where I was when I read that paragraph! On a National Express coach from Coventry to London, making my way home for the weekend. I was 19 and training to be a teacher at Coventry College of Education.
It made me laugh too and I've loved the book ever since.

Slawkenbergius wrote:On the Road is at once a novel about friendship and the quest for the unattainable absolute ('IT' in Dean's words) and the story of a fallen angel, the decline and fall of Dean Moriarty. ..."

Ahh, okay, that I don't recall at all. I remembered Moriarity ditching Sal at some point, but I had thought that Dean still retained his hero status.

Slawkenbergius wrote: "Paul wrote: "(although I'm fairly sure he bragged about smacking one or two fo them around, because it left a strong enough impression to remain in my head for 30 years. I could be wrong though)"

..."

That is a brilliant review - and very probably accurate! (I really read it far too long ago to be sure, but it feels right to me.)

FWIW - I enjoyed the Kerouac far more than the limp undergrads in the Waugh; as you say, Dean is definitely a 'fallen angel' by the end.

Pomfretian wrote: "I can still remember where I was when I read that paragraph!...It made me laugh too and I've loved the book ever since.

I'm glad.

A shared sense of humour can be crucial to whether we enjoy (or don't) an author... I find so much to smile or laugh about in Anne Tyler, but I suspect others simply skate over the witticisms... whereas many love Kate Atkinson, whose 'jokes' I find laboured, obvious and unfunny... (I hope that I have not offended you here!)

In real life, even more than in reading, I find it very hard to spend time in the company of those people who mistake the lack of a sense of humour with maturity and being 'grown up'.

AB76 wrote: "CCCubbon wrote: "Oh, AB, 65 is still quite young, you’ll find nooks for the books and there are always new ones coming along, still books from earlier than today that you won’t have yet read . A fe..."

My favorite Ambler book is A Coffin for Dimitrios - . Perhaps time for a re-read.

But then, I have 7 books waiting for pick-up at the library. Needless to say, the library is one of my candy stores.

Pomfretian wrote: "scarletnoir wrote: "A few responses to some other comments:

I wasn't young when I read 'On the Road' and 'The Catcher in the Rye', and enjoyed both of them... though Kerouac maybe less, as I don't..."

I first read The Catcher in the Rye when I was in my early 20s,
I last read it when I was, hm, a woman of 45, if not older.
Some years ago I read on TLS that others think Holden is a spoilt brat etcpp etcpp.
I've always found the book funny. And moving. And admired how a writer could do both so well.
Don't think I will re-read it. With at least 4 re-readings it had a good innings already

scarletnoir wrote: " by Ian Rankin

This is (I think) the 23rd book in Rankin's John Rebus series. Rebus is now retired, and not in the best of health - he has COPD, and h..."

I just bought the 2nd Rebus book - 'Hide and Seek'. I'm looking forward to getting stuck in.

scarletnoir wrote: "...whereas many love Kate Atkinson, whose 'jokes' I find laboured, obvious and unfunny... (I hope that I have not offended you here!)
..."

As I've said many times, I think Kate Atkinson walks on water, but I'm never offended when others don't agree with my tastes.

Have you read Elizabeth McCracken? She's another I enjoy for her dry, sometimes sly, wit. I've just started her latest book of short stories, The Souvenir Museum, and I'm already relishing it at the sentence level. It opens with 'The Irish Wedding', in which Jack and Sadie have traveled from Boston, MA to Ireland to attend a wedding:

Because Jack didn't drive—not stick, not on the left side of the road, not at all ever—Sadie piloted the rental car from the Dublin airport to the wedding, grinding gears and scraping along the greenery and—for a few miles—creeping behind a tractor on a winding road....The tractor slowed them down, but so did Sadie's sense that in the dark Ireland was making itself up as it went along.

The idea of a air mattress and an electric blanket had sounded like a disaster sandwich to Sadie, but...she slid in. She'd never slept under an electric blanket. It was warm, lulling, and she felt like a little abandoned animal whose mother had died but who yet might be saved by technology. Incubated. That's how she felt.

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scarletnoir wrote: "CCCubbon wrote: "His pet hate was all the little white bits that float on top when the milk is on the turn!"

So say all of us... when that happens, I just throw the tea down the sink...

I forgot ..."

I read most of the earlier Karin Slaughter books during the last decade and read them in sequence too. The Will Trent series I thought was particularly good. Like most crime books, the main cop has a backstory that plays an important role in plot development.

MK wrote: "AB76 wrote: "CCCubbon wrote: "Oh, AB, 65 is still quite young, you’ll find nooks for the books and there are always new ones coming along, still books from earlier than today that you won’t have ye..."

'Needless to say, the library is one of my candy stores'. This make me chuckle, MK. My local library has just reopened for browsing on Monday and I was thrilled.