#194 Ping- Samuel Beckett

#194 Ping- Samuel Beckett

Here is another brilliant writer banished from Ireland during his lifetime. Maybe it was Ireland’s loss, or maybe like James Joyce it spurred Beckett to greater purpose. This piece defies form. Trying to describe this work would be like trying to explain the shape of water, it can only be defined by that which holds it. It’s a literary Rorschach test.

Is this a dream, a nightmare, a tap into subconsciousness? Probably all of that. The fear and uncertainty in this piece is unsettling. The mind fixes on the basic things, light, color, shape, etc. But why are these things in the narrators mind? Is it what is being seen or remembered or imagined? All I see is resigned fear, but like I said, that might be only what’s in my head.

Rating: 8-9-10-9 Total=36

#119 The Soul Is Not a Smithy- David Foster Wallace

#119 The Soul Is Not a Smithy- David Foster Wallace

Reading David Foster Wallace can be a commitment. The length and meticulous detail in his works don’t lend themselves to “light-reading.” However, if you are willing to put in the effort, and keep focus (something missing from a lot of internet-aged readers) the payoffs can be huge.

To some, this style of over-prose may seem to be a bit tiresome, but I assume these are the same people that would rather fast forward the first 2 ½ hours of Die Walkurie, a tough opera to get through for a novice, just to listen to the 3 minutes they know…The Ride of the Walkurie. For an opera fan, or an avid lover of the long-form in any of the arts, the adventure and ride of the exposition makes the payoff so much sweeter.

Speaking of focus and boredom, Terence Velen is a fourth grade student having a hard time concentrating at school. He spends his days staring through the classroom window, subdividing his attention through small, reticulated metal mesh squares and letting his imagination create his own reality. Meanwhile in class, his substitute Civics teacher, Mr. Richard Johnson (a nice name for a civics teacher in the 1960’s) “had just written KILL on the chalkboard.” Then KILL THEM, and finally KILL THEM ALL.

We learn that Mr. Johnson had an obvious nervous breakdown and while most of the class fled the scene in a panic, there were four unwitting hostages, including Terence. These four were among the perceived "slow" or "deficient" students. But its seems that they were neither slow, brave, unlucky, or unwilling to leave. And it seems they weren’t really hostages, as much as daydreamers confused about what exactly was going on around them.

“In testing many school children labeled as hyperactive or deficient in attention are observed to be not so much unable to pat attention as to have difficulty exercising control or choice over what it is they pat attention to.”

Many of DFW stories follow a style such as this, a frenetic accounting of an unfocussed mind. Some have used his writing (unfairly to both him and the mental health profession) as a peek inside the mind of such young people who have suffered misdiagnoses or misunderstandings or worse, mis-medications. Beyond the obvious technical skills of these works, and beyond the comedic or tragic circumstances of the plots, there is a deep truth here, a soul that calls out to be recognized.  At once, impressive, touching, heartbreaking, and hilarious...there is only one DFW.

Notable Passage: “There is something about someone throwing up anywhere within a child’s earshot that serves to direct and concentrate his attention with an utmost insane force…”

Rating: Once again…Not Rate-able…it is unfair to compare DFW to anyone else. To do so I’d have to develop a whole new system.  He ruins the curve…so lets just say he gets a perfect score and move on. Do I sound biased here? Who cares, its my blog and my rating system.

#93 Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman- Haruki Murakami

#93 Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman- Haruki Murakami

Reading Murakami is often a visceral experience, feeling like you’ve been hypnotized or fell into a ludic dream. To be able to have this effect even when translated is a testament to the power of his abilities. He doesn’t merely write stories, he composes literary music. Murakami says that if writing novels are planting forests, then writing short stories are planting gardens. Sometimes you just want to walk through the garden. You can feel the author’s connection to these stories. Murakami writes:

“My short stories are like soft shadows I’ve set out in the world, faint footprints I’ve left behind.”

So following in those shadowy footprints, we begin this collection with the title piece, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman. Like most of Murakami’s work, this has a tinge of the supernatural, here it comes in the form of a made-up tree.

A young man takes his cousin to the hospital to get his ears checked out. The cousin has an un-diagnosable condition where he suddenly and intermittently loses his hearing. While he waits outside, he remembers the last time he was in the hospital for a friend. She told him a poem she was writing about Blind Willows.

“A blind willow looks small on the outside , but it’s got incredibly deep roots…[it] pushes further and further down into the ground. Like the darkness nourishes it.”

Flies gather the pollen from the blind willows and bury themselves in the ear of a woman putting her in a deep sleep. Murakami often has these parallel story lines, one in reality and one in a dream. They aren’t necessarily connected, but they’re not separate either. We each have our lives, and the selfishness stemming from our lives, some running from deep and dark places, make us deaf to the needs of those around us.

Notable Passage: “I stood there is a strange, dim place. Where the things I could see didn’t exist. Where the invisible did.”

Rating: 10-9-10-8 Total= 37