Manny has
2198 books
(106 selected)
—
compare books
|
stats
controls:
shelf settings: main
views:
covers
table
print
| # | cover | title | author | isbn | isbn13 | asin | num pages | avg rating | num ratings | date pub | date pub (ed.) | rating | my rating | review | notes | recommender | comments | votes | read count | date started | date read |
date
|
date purchased | owned | purchase location | condition | format | ||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
2720201634
| 9782720201639
| 4.13
| 5,750
| 1947
| Dec 31, 1979
|
After watching the new movie last week, I had to reread the book. Well, the text version is better, but the movie is reasonably faithful to it and doe...more After watching the new movie last week, I had to reread the book. Well, the text version is better, but the movie is reasonably faithful to it and does sometimes manage to supply a charming or witty illustration. For example: Le pianocktail ![]() - À chaque note, dit Colin, je fais correspondre un alcool, une liqueur ou un aromate. La pédale forte correspond à l'œuf battu et la pédale faible à la glace. Pour l'eau de Seltz, il faut un trille dans le registre aigu. Les quantités sont en raison directe de la durée : à la quadruple croche équivaut le seizième d'unité, à la noire l'unité, à la ronde la quadruple unité. Lorsque l'on joue un air lent, un système de registre est mis en action, de façon que la dose ne soit pas augmentée - ce qui donnerait un cocktail trop abondant - mais la teneur en alcool. Et, suivant la durée de l'air, on peut, si l'on veut, faire varier la valeur de l'unité, la réduisant, par exemple, au centième, pour pouvoir obtenir une boisson tenant compte de toutes les harmonies au moyen d'un réglage latéral. Le biglemoi ![]() « Le principe du biglemoi, dit Nicolas, que Monsieur connaît sans doute, repose sur la production d'interférences par deux sources animées d'un mouvement oscillatoire rigoureusement synchrone. Le nuage ![]() Ils marchaient, suivant le premier trottoir venu. Un petit nuage rose descendait de l'air et s'approchait d'eux. Jean-Sol Partre ![]() Le fond de l'estrade était garni d'une tenture de velours enkysté, dans laquelle Chick avait percé des trous pour voir. Ils s'assirent sur des coussins et attendirent. À un mètre d'eux, à peine, Partre se préparait à lire sa conférence. Il émanait de son corps souple et ascétique une radiance extraordinaire, et le public, captivé par le charme redoutable qui parait ses moindres gestes, attendait, anxieux, le signal du départ. Le souris ![]() La souris grise à moustaches noires grimpa le long de l'échelle et vint les avertir que Nicolas attendait. Ils se rappelèrent le voyage et bondirent hors du lit. La souris profitait de leur inattention pour puiser largement dans une grosse boîte de chocolats à la sapote qui se trouvait au chevet du lit. All quite good except for the mouse, who was terrible... (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
3
| not set
| Jun 10, 2013
|
Jun 13, 2013
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
0871401525
| 9780871401526
| 4.37
| 11,540
| 1992
| Apr 17, 1994
|
anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down) spring summer autumn winter he sang his didn’t he danced his did. Women and men(bo...more anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down) spring summer autumn winter he sang his didn’t he danced his did. Women and men(both little and small) cared for anyone not at all they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same sun moon stars rain children guessed(but only a few and down they forgot as up they grew autumn winter spring summer) that noone loved him more by more when by now and tree by leaf she laughed his joy she cried his grief bird by snow and stir by still anyone’s any was all to her someones married their everyones laughed their cryings and did their dance (sleep wake up and then)they said their nevers they slept their dream stars rain sun moon (and only the snow can begin to explain how children are apt to forget to remember with up so floating many bells down) one day anyone died i guess (and noone stooped to kiss his face) busy folk buried them side by side little by little and was by was all by all and deep by deep and more by more they dream their sleep noone and anyone earth by april wish by spirit and if by yes. Women and men(both dong and ding) summer autumn winter spring reaped their sowing and went their came sun moon stars rain(less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| not set
| not set
|
May 01, 2013
| Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||||
2070446220
| 9782070446223
| 2.93
| 121
| Dec 16, 2010
| Mar 01, 2012
|
He put an exploratory hand on her thigh, but she removed it and turned to face him. I want to know what you think of the book, she said. Ah, he replie...more He put an exploratory hand on her thigh, but she removed it and turned to face him. I want to know what you think of the book, she said. Ah, he replied, conscious that he might be entering dangerous territory, it's well-written. But I found it a bit dull in places. C'est bien écrit mais il y a des longueurs. Ou bien, il y a des longueurs, mais c'est bien écrit. I'm sorry? he said. Something from Simone de Beauvoir. It doesn't matter. The rest of this review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures(less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Mar 09, 2013
| Mar 17, 2013
|
Mar 09, 2013
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
0140714693
| 9780140714692
| 3.36
| 1,636
| 1609
| Aug 01, 2001
|
Preface Although superficially similar in form, most scholars do not consider that the Abridged Pericles belongs to the Madelinian Canon; the most plau...more Preface Although superficially similar in form, most scholars do not consider that the Abridged Pericles belongs to the Madelinian Canon; the most plausible theory holds that it was partly or wholly composed by an imitator, possibly a Manfred Reiner (the spelling is uncertain), who lived in Geneva around 2013. Pericles, Prince of Tyre (abridged version) ANTIOCHUS: Here's a riddle: if you can't guess, I'm going to kill you. What goes on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three legs in the evening, and sleeps with his daughter? PERICLES: Humbert Humbert? ANTIOCHUS: Close enough. But I'm going to kill you anyway. PERICLES: Hey, no fair! [Dumb show. Pericles flees Antioch, is shipwrecked, falls in love with Thaisa, marries her, incorrectly believes she has died in childbirth, dumps her body in the sea, places his newborn daughter in the care of an idiot and his homicidal consort, etc. Distressed by this unfortunate series of events, he decides to stop visiting his hairdresser] PERICLES: [much longer hair] Her voice was ever soft and low An excellent thing in woman. ATTENDANT: His wits are wandering, he thinks he's Lear. PERICLES: And my poor fool is hanged. ATTENDANT: He means his wife. [Enter MARINA and THAISA] MARINA: Hello Daddy! PERICLES: Thou livest! THAISA: There was a mixup. They hanged a different fool. PERICLES: Yay! Group hug! CHORUS: Don't you wish you could write like William Shakespeare and his unknown collaborator? THE END (less) | Notes are private!
| 1
| Feb 24, 2013
| Feb 25, 2013
|
Feb 24, 2013
| Paperback
| |||||||||||||||||
2070374149
| 9782070374144
| 3.61
| 1,515
| Dec 01, 1887
| unknown
|
[Fresh from his triumphs in Bel-Ami, ROBERT PATTINSON will shortly be appearing in Pierre et Jean, directed by A FAMOUS FRENCH DIRECTOR. The following...more
[Fresh from his triumphs in Bel-Ami, ROBERT PATTINSON will shortly be appearing in Pierre et Jean, directed by A FAMOUS FRENCH DIRECTOR. The following outtake has turned up on YouTube] FRENCH DIRECTOR: Vous vous souvenez peut-être, j'ai dit que tout le monde doit lire le roman. Monsieur Pattinson, nous comprenons bien que vous êtes la grande star américaine, mais avez-vous le lit, oui ou merde? INTERPRETER: He asks if you have read the book. PATTINSON: Well, I've had a lot of shit going on, you know, interviews about my breakup with Kristen, and I've had to change my publicist and my personal trainer in the same week, then there's been some tax shit, so, like, give me a break dude, I'll get to it real soon, I promise, you know? INTERPRETER: Il n'a pas lu. FRENCH DIRECTOR: Alors, je vais vous lire un petit bout: Une heure plus tard il était étendu dans son petit lit marin, étroit et long comme un cercueil. Il y resta longtemps, les yeux ouverts, songeant à tout ce qui s'était passé depuis deux mois dans sa vie, et surtout dans son âme. À force d'avoir souffert et fait souffrir les autres, sa douleur agressive et vengeresse s'était fatiguée, comme une lame émoussée. Il n'avait presque plus le courage d'en vouloir à quelqu'un et de quoi que ce fût, et il laissait aller sa révolte à vau-l'eau à la façon de son existence. Il se sentait tellement las de lutter, las de frapper, las de détester, las de tout, qu'il n'en pouvait plus et tâchait d'engourdir son coeur dans l'oubli, comme on tombe dans le sommeil. Il entendait vaguement autour de lui les bruits nouveaux du navire, bruits légers, à peine perceptibles en cette nuit calme du port; et de sa blessure jusque-là si cruelle il ne sentait plus aussi que les tiraillements douloureux des plaies qui se cicatrisent.INTERPRETER: You're lying down. You don't feel too good about what's happened. You're really tired. [PATTINSON lies down and stares at the ceiling] FRENCH DIRECTOR: J'en ai marre marre marre de cet comédien de merde, dites-lui encore une fois que c'est Maupassant, pas cette merde de Twilight. Est-ce vraiment impossible de comprendre? INTERPRETER: He asks if you can try to remember you're not Edward. [With apologies to "Lost in Translation"](less) | Notes are private!
| 1
| not set
| Jan 25, 2013
|
Jan 17, 2013
| Paperback
| |||||||||||||||||
1405910232
| 9781405910231
| 4.21
| 136,963
| Apr 03, 2012
| Jul 19, 2012
|
Gideon ushered me into the elevator with a firm, masculine hand behind the small of my back, and as always I felt an electric shock go through me. As...more
Gideon ushered me into the elevator with a firm, masculine hand behind the small of my back, and as always I felt an electric shock go through me. As soon as the doors had closed, I sank to my knees, hardly even noticing the teak interior with its antique silver accents, and began to pleasure him. He sighed and plunged his hands into my hair. "Oh Eva!" he groaned. The rest of this review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures(less) | Notes are private!
| 1
| Dec 09, 2012
| Dec 15, 2012
|
Dec 06, 2012
| Paperback
| |||||||||||||||||
0141182806
| 9780141182803
| 3.72
| 45,116
| Feb 02, 1922
| Mar 30, 2000
|
(Geneva, late 2012. Plainpalais market, a riotous display of phallic vegetables, ill-smelling cheese and trash literature. THE REVIEWER and his GIRLFR...more
(Geneva, late 2012. Plainpalais market, a riotous display of phallic vegetables, ill-smelling cheese and trash literature. THE REVIEWER and his GIRLFRIEND walk through the stalls hand in hand. Polyglot conversations around them.) THE REVIEWER: Now here's a significant quote. "My methods are new and are causing surprise To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes." STANISLAW LEM: Mogę to rozwinąć. MICHAEL KANDEL: I can give you more details on that. (No one pays them any attention) The rest of this review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Nov 05, 2012
| Nov 28, 2012
|
Oct 25, 2012
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
0449213536
| 9780449213537
| 3.98
| 3,337
| Jan 01, 1971
| Mar 12, 1982
|
- Kids today! I wonder if the 70s won't be even worse than than the 60s. Honestly, you don't know what to think, dropping out of school, letting their...more
- Kids today! I wonder if the 70s won't be even worse than than the 60s. Honestly, you don't know what to think, dropping out of school, letting their hair grow, rock and roll music, free love, drugs... - Another martini? - Oh, why not! Thank you. As I was saying, I don't understand young people any more, as they would say, I just don't "get" them... - Have you read the new James Mitchener? The Drifters? - No? - You should take a look at it, he'll answer your questions. Great piece of work. A bit shocking in places, he's not afraid to use crude language, hit you with the occasional motherf- - Harold! - Sorry. I tell you, I've been reading Mitchener since 1947 and he just gets better. Wish I knew how he did the research for this one. A week ago, I was as "square" as they come, but now, "man!", I'm "with it". - Harold, don't show off. - But really, it's opened my eyes! I even went and bought the new Doors LP. L.A. Woman. My secretary recommended it. Shall I put it on? - Harold, was that the girl at the office party who- - Ah, yes, that was Karen. - I think I'd rather have some more Frank Sinatra. - But- - Sinatra, Harold. - Sorry darling. Maybe we should talk about something else. What do you think of Nixon's chances in '72? - My friends in DC tell me it's a sure thing. - Well thank God for that anyway. And here are our martinis. Cheers! - Cheers!(less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| not set
| Jan 1984
|
Sep 11, 2012
| Mass Market Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
2070409295
| 9782070409297
| 3.77
| 1,576
| 1877
| 1999
|
![]() JOHN CLEESE: I would like to register a complaint about this parrot, what I read about not half an hour ago in a Flaubert short story. MICHAEL PALIN: O...more ![]() JOHN CLEESE: I would like to register a complaint about this parrot, what I read about not half an hour ago in a Flaubert short story. MICHAEL PALIN: Oh yeah? What's wrong wiv it? CLEESE: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my good man. It's representing the Holy Ghost, that's what's wrong with it. The rest of this review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures(less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Apr 08, 2012
| not set
|
Apr 08, 2012
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
0571201717
| 9780571201716
| 3.28
| 386
| 2000
| 2001
|
Dr. Rayner Dr. Rayner has just finished reading Mr. Phillips, a novel he greatly enjoyed, and now he walks to work along his usual route thinking about...more Dr. Rayner Dr. Rayner has just finished reading Mr. Phillips, a novel he greatly enjoyed, and now he walks to work along his usual route thinking about the review he is planning to write. Dr. Rayner has recently learned, from an online friend he feels he knows quite well but has never met in person, that he may be a High Energy Introvert or HEI. HEIs spend a large part of their time having entertaining conversations with themselves, since they tend to find the company of other people enervating. Dr. Rayner thinks that Mr. Phillips, who must be about the same age as himself, is probably also an HEI. The rest of this review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures(less) | Notes are private!
| 1
| Mar 27, 2012
| Mar 30, 2012
|
Mar 27, 2012
| Paperback
| |||||||||||||||||
unknown
| 3.90
| 31
| Mar 12, 2012
| Mar 22, 2012
|
In response to innumerable queries from MJ and other people, this cheap, tacky PDF edition is now available to people who want to post sarcastic revie...more
In response to innumerable queries from MJ and other people, this cheap, tacky PDF edition is now available to people who want to post sarcastic reviews without substantially affecting their bank balance. Can be ordered from the relevant Lulu page. But I tell you, it's no substitute for the real thing.(less) | Notes are private!
| 1
| Mar 24, 2012
| Mar 24, 2012
|
Mar 23, 2012
| ebook
| ||||||||||||||||||
1105520714
| 9781105520716
| 3.90
| 31
| Mar 12, 2012
| Mar 12, 2012
|
Praise for What Pooh Might Have Said To Dante: "...would make a great present for somebody who's never heard of GoodReads before, like maybe a caveman...more Praise for What Pooh Might Have Said To Dante: "...would make a great present for somebody who's never heard of GoodReads before, like maybe a caveman recently unfrozen from an ancient glacier" - BirdBrian "Having observed both Counsel extremely closely, I am compelled to find that the market value of Mr Rayner's efforts is precisely Nil" - Ian G "... something rather amateurish that looked like it had been done in somebody's back room" - notgettingenough "Manny doesn't like Harry Potter and sometimes I get mad at him and threaten to throw him into the ocean" - Mariel "Felkeltem, ál-tudományos, falloszentrista, szexista szemetet" - Sakkfeminizmus "Not bad for an over-aged hairball" - Marvin "To be completely honest -- meh." - David L "... a waste of time... you can read all that stuff for free online" - Paul B "The future is an endless oneupmanship to see who can write the wittiest, most popular 200-word capsule review on fuck-all. This is Manny’s fault." - MJ "... call it Rue Vomitorium" - David C "... good if you read it in the original failboatese" - Vote Whore "... almost... funny" - Traveller "Will you enjoy this? In a word, no, unless you are a masochist" - Sean D "Never in my life I seen a more desperate attempt to get votes" - Alfonso "... advertising..." - Esteban "If I'd been drinking I think it could have made me seasick" - Tabitha "The thing about Manny... he almost never throws feces at random strangers." - Kat "... explicit ... the author has failed ..." - Scribble "... rattling a virtual tip jar at every opportunity ..." - Jason P "Manny, you sure are fascinated with Stephenie Meyer" - Rowena M "GoodReads in-jokes ... off-putting ..." - Cecily "... book snob ... insecurity ... stupid ..." - midnightfaerie "... enough..." - Alan B __________________________________ Over the last couple of years, several kind people have asked whether I'd considered publishing a collection of my best reviews. I always replied that I appreciated the suggestion, but it didn't seem like a sensible thing to do. But, a few weeks ago, I started wondering whether I shouldn't give it a shot after all. If Goodreads unexpectedly folded up - these things happen - it would be so annoying to lose my writing. Self-publishing has become cheap and easy. And I've got a fair amount of experience with type-setting. How much work could it be to implement a few scripts to turn HTML into LaTeX and then upload a PDF file to Lulu? Well, it's never quite as straightforward as you think, but here is the result. For the benefit of other people who may feel tempted to do the same thing, let me give you the key lessons I've learned from this little adventure: 1. Sign up an editor and some readers. No author can be objective about their own work; they need keen external eyes to tell them both what's good and what's bad about it. It was fortunate for me that notgettingenough, who has long-term experience with publishing, took an early interest in the project and was willing to act as editor. She ruthlessly corrected several of my dumber ideas, forced me to think about issues I'd happily have ignored, and made sure that the book was produced to professional standards. My advisory committee - BirdBrian, Mariel and Ian - read through the manuscript and gave me encouragement and helpful suggestions. They convinced me that it was worth continuing and taking the time required to make it look good. Thank you, guys! You have all been so thoughtful and patient, and I greatly appreciate it! 2. Think carefully about which reviews to include. Not groaned over my initial selection, which probably took an hour to do and had no structure whatsoever. She encouraged me to group the reviews by style and type of book, after which I saw that some things were grossly overrepresented. Even if bashing Twilight is the Goodreads national sport, I didn't need this many examples of the genre. And much as I love writing about Flaubert, Proust, Wittgenstein and Kasparov, it's likely that the average reader will not share my enthusiasms to the same degree. 3. Acquire at least a smattering of knowledge regarding copyright. As I now understand it, most quoted text that might appear in a Goodreads review should be covered by the rules on Fair Use. I found the following passage from this page helpful: Section 107 contains a list of the various purposes for which the reproduction of a particular work may be considered fair, such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Section 107 also sets out four factors to be considered in determining whether or not a particular use is fair:Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that copyrighted images are generally not easy to include: the problem is that you'll be using the whole image, rather than just an illustrative part of it. Martha, my talented cover artist, had put together the following very attractive cover: ![]() But, alas, the Estate of E.H. Shepherd thought this was an "inappropriate" use of Pooh Bear's image and politely but firmly refused to grant me permission. I didn't even get that far with Penguin (Jemima Puddle-Duck) or Gallimard (the Little Prince), who still haven't given me any clear answers. Not, in her capacity as excutive editor, made the sensible but painful decision to go for a simpler solution. So there have been a few rough moments, but all in all I found this an interesting and rewarding experience. And now, I hardly need add, I'm curious to see if anyone is going to buy it! It's available from this Lulu page.(less) | Notes are private!
| People
|
5
| not set
| Feb 2012
|
Mar 12, 2012
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
0375406778
| 9780375406775
| 4.07
| 55,652
| Jul 19, 2005
| Jul 19, 2005
|
So are we gonna talk about No Country For Old Men, he said. Why not, she replied. Then we gotta do it like McCarthy, he said. Short sentences. Southern...more So are we gonna talk about No Country For Old Men, he said. Why not, she replied. Then we gotta do it like McCarthy, he said. Short sentences. Southern dialect. No punctuation. I can drop the punctuation, she said. But I can't do Southern. You can try. Well then I caint. That good enough for you? Youre tryin. That's the important thing. Caint do more than try. Thank you. I wish I could speak it. It's a beautiful language. But I aint got his ear. He's got the best ear for dialect this side of Mark Twain. He's got a mighty fine ear, that's for sure. Well like I said I loved the language. And I loved the characters. Sheriff Bell and Llewelyn and Chigurh and even the minor ones. Carla Jean and Loretta and Carson and the hitchhiker. They are all fine characters. They just come alive off the page. They do. I aint gonna forget none of them soon. But I dont know what it's about. It's gotta be bout somethin? Hell yes. Chigurh is more than just a man. He's some kinda elemental force. A symbol of somethin. A symbol. And his duel with Llewelyn. That's a symbol too. It's like that Swedish movie we saw. Where the guy plays chess with Death. The Seventh Seal. That's the one. But I dont think Chigurh is Death. He's somethin else. Somethin else we caint escape from. Now what would that be. I bin lying here thinkin and I caint rightly say. Maybe he aint no more than what he looks like. I know what I know, she said. But I caint put it in words. I dont think this conversation is goin noplace, he said. They lay there for a while until she heard he was asleep. She got up quietly so as not to wake him and checked the door was locked. Then she got back into bed. This review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Jan 18, 2012
| Jan 22, 2012
|
Jan 10, 2012
| Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||||
9781848410502
| 4.23
| 197
| 2009
| 2009
|
**spoiler alert** Notgettingenough and I went to this critically acclaimed play a couple of nights ago at the West End. I watched the whole thing with...more
**spoiler alert** Notgettingenough and I went to this critically acclaimed play a couple of nights ago at the West End. I watched the whole thing with rapt attention; Not, as she sometimes does, took a short nap halfway through. I imagined this would give me an advantage during the post-mortem, but I should have known better. "So what did you think it was about?" she asked as we left the theatre. "Um, dunno," I said. "Maybe a metaphor for the current state of England? I mean, here we are, rotten to the core, served with an eviction notice and a few hours to vacate the property, but we think our charm and verbal brilliance will somehow let us sneak out of it..." "Was he supposed to be a Christ-figure?" interrupted Not, impatient with my slow mental processes. I hadn't been alert, and as usual I'd failed even to consider the possibility. Just because Rooster Byron is a drunk who's banned from every pub in town and supplies the local kids with illegal substances while telling them preposterous lies and getting a few of the prettier girls pregnant, it hadn't crossed my mind that he might also be Jesus. Verily, the Day of the Lord cometh as the thief in the night: maybe we wouldn't recognise Him this time either, a theme James Blish also took pleasure in exploring. So how strong is the case here? There was certainly a lot of camouflage. You wouldn't necessarily expect Christ to put a glass of tea-and-vodka down the front of his stained pants, cheat at Trivial Pursuits or recount off-colour jokes about having sex with the whole of Girls Aloud. But, just as with Lisbeth Salander, there were surprisingly many hints once you started looking for them. Why does everyone love the old reprobate so much, even the woman from the council who pins the eviction paperwork to the door of his grubby trailer? Why is he able to spread a mysterious joy and peace to so many people? (He drives a good many more mad with rage, but Jesus did that too). He claims to be a virgin birth, after an incident where a local philander is caught in flagrante and shot through the scrotum and the bullet, after multiple ricochets, ends up in his mother's panties. He's tortured and branded with a cross-shaped branding iron. But he rises again, and, at the end, he - maybe - summons heavenly assistance. And then of course there's the title. It's a daring hypothesis, and Google turns up few other people who've had the same thought. Even though I still can't quite believe it, kudos to Not for lack of conventional religious prejudices. And whatever the message, it's definitely worth seeing. (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Dec 11, 2011
| Dec 11, 2011
|
Dec 14, 2011
| Paperback
| |||||||||||||||||
2070387046
| 9782070387045
| 3.82
| 728
| 1985
| Mar 01, 1993
|
Since 9/11, there has been much debate about whether torture is justified. Its apologists in the Bush-Cheney administration were eloquent about why it...more
Since 9/11, there has been much debate about whether torture is justified. Its apologists in the Bush-Cheney administration were eloquent about why it can sometimes be necessary. We were frequently told about ticking time-bombs and the threat of a mushroom cloud over an American city. Some horrifying stories surfaced from people who had been tortured at Guantánamo, Abu Ghraib, and elsewhere. But, and it just occurs to me now to think how odd this is, I don't recall reading one straightforward account told from the torturer's point of view. If you're curious, you can read one here. Marguerite Duras was a member of the Resistance in wartime France. In Albert des Capitales, one of the pieces in this book, she describes in her usual matter-of-fact way an incident that occurred a few days after the Liberation. She and the other members of her cell are hanging around when a waiter comes running in and says that there's a guy at his bistro who's an informer. Everyone in his home town knows he is. But they'll have to move fast and grab him before he disappears. So they rush into the café and arrest him. He's an overweight, unhealthy-looking guy in his 50s. He looks kind of dirty and unwashed. They make him empty his pockets. There's a notebook with names and addresses, and every so often the notation ALBERT DES CAPITALES. They want to know what this means. The guy thinks, or pretends to think, and then he says, oh yes, he's a waiter at another café, Les Capitales. He has a drink there sometimes on the way home. Okay, says the leader of the Resistance cell, this must be his contact. We need to start rolling up the network. He immediately sends three people over to arrest Albert, but they come back empty-handed. He left days ago. They figure they'll interrogate the informer anyway. He must be able to tell them something else, and if they wait the trail will go cold. The leader asks Marguerite if she wants to lead the interrogation. Why not, she says. They take the informer into a back room and order him to strip. He takes his clothes off slowly, hanging them up on the back of a chair so they won't get creased. One of the guys tells him to hurry up, they haven't got all day. He apologises and carries on removing his clothes. His underpants and socks are dirty. When he's naked, Marguerite asks him how to find Albert des Capitales. He answers evasively and the guys start hitting him a bit. Then Margurite asks him what he did when he visited the Gestapo headquarters. Nothing special, he says, moaning a bit and rubbing the places where they've hit him. I left my ID card at the door and went up. It was just some black market crap, nothing important. So what color was your card? asks Marguerite, but he won't answer. They hit him, and then they hit him more, and he's bleeding in several places. She asks him again what color his card was, and he still won't answer, so they carry on hitting and kicking him. Several other people have come in to watch. A couple of women say uncertainly that maybe this is enough. The leader says that anyone who thinks it's disgusting is welcome to leave. No one leaves. The informer's screaming and covered in blood as they kick him around like a ball. But he still won't say what color his card was. Marguerite tells him he'd better answer or they'll kill him. It looks like she means it. She tries different possibilities. Was it white? He moans no. Red? Also no. Yellow? No again. In the end, he screams out that it was green. That's the color that means he's an S.D. secret agent. Marguerite tells the guys to stop torturing him and let him put his clothes on. She goes out and sees a woman who'd missed all the fun. He confessed, says Marguerite. So fucking what? shrugs the woman. Marguerite starts crying. We should just let him go, she says. People won't like that, says the cell leader. She didn't get around to publishing this story until 1985. _______________________________________ The "green card" plays an important role in Simenon's La Neige Etait Sale. It becomes clear that anyone who had a green card was a tool of the Nazi occupiers, and could legitimately be regarded as the worst kind of collaborator and traitor. (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Nov 15, 2011
| Nov 28, 2011
|
Nov 15, 2011
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
0141441143
| 9780141441146
| 4.06
| 661,762
| Oct 16, 1847
| Aug 15, 2006
|
For the Celebrity Death Match Review Tournament, Hamlet (4) versus Jane Eyre [Sequel to this review] March 20th The tumultuous events of the last week ha...more For the Celebrity Death Match Review Tournament, Hamlet (4) versus Jane Eyre [Sequel to this review] March 20th The tumultuous events of the last week have left me no breathing space in which to resort to my dear journal. I beg the reader's indulgence for this lapse, and continue the tale where I left off. Oppressed by Madame Karenina's dreadful missive, I retired to my bed, having taken an inadvisably large dose of laudanum. I know not what would have become of me, had I not been woken by a visitor - some of you may guess his name - who insisted, despite general protestations that I was unwell, that he should see me on the instant. He ministered to me with the utmost kindness, though I was in a death-like torpor from the effect of the drug; within an hour, we had left that house, once so dear to me, and were in a diligence bound for the coast. The rest of this review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures(less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| not set
| Jan 1991
|
Oct 17, 2011
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
2744308579
| 9782744308574
| 3.00
| 1
| May 07, 2003
| May 07, 2003
|
It goes without saying that this series is unadulterated trash, but every now and then you find a surprisingly good episode. For the first 60 pages, I...more
It goes without saying that this series is unadulterated trash, but every now and then you find a surprisingly good episode. For the first 60 pages, I was hoping that Hôtesse speciale pour jet privé was going to be one of those pearls. The author was having fun, not just grimly turning it out to make the deadline, and the opening sequence was sufficiently bizarre that it got my attention. The sleazy boss of the French multinational media company is throwing an end-of-year sex party for his closest associates, with the help of an airline called Seventh Heaven who provide charter jets with attractive, willing flight attendants of both sexes. The orgy is in full swing somewhere over the English Channel, but then an unexpected event destroys the ambiance. The director has just been given an unusually fine blowjob when the girl suddenly collapses and dies. She's had a massive heart attack, and the reader wonders if it didn't have something to do with the odd lipstick she insisted on putting on just before she started. The director panics and bribes the pilot to reduce speed and height so that he can dump the corpse in the water. "Who's ever going to know?" he asks. No one dares oppose him. But, of course, the body is discovered and Boris is rapidly called in to investigate. It turns out that the cause of death is highly unusual: a rare poison sometimes used for covert assassinations, which starts a delayed reaction with male hormones to clot the blood and cause a fatal heart attack after a period of exactly seven days. This time, however, the assassin was the first victim, because she was really a transsexual. The mixture of male and female hormones in her blood meant the substance acted much more quickly. Alas... the author can't build on this fine start and it rapidly goes downhill, with one bizarre and improbable plot twist following another and the obligatory sex scenes becoming increasingly irrelevant to the story. It's harder than you might imagine to write a good dirty book. Even so, it was fun, and I finished it in a couple of days. If anyone else feels like improving their French vocabulary, let me know and I'll be happy to pass it on to you! (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Oct 05, 2011
| Oct 07, 2011
|
Oct 05, 2011
| Mass Market Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
2070367800
| 9782070367801
| 3.95
| 625
| 1913
| Feb 01, 1974
|
For the Celebrity Death Match Review Tournament, Hamlet (4) versus À la recherche du temps perdu (29) [A bar in Elsinore. HAMLET is slumped in front of...more For the Celebrity Death Match Review Tournament, Hamlet (4) versus À la recherche du temps perdu (29) [A bar in Elsinore. HAMLET is slumped in front of a large collection of empty glasses] HAMLET: O, that this too too solid flesh would melt Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! [SWANN has entered] SWANN: Girl trouble? HAMLET: Aye. SWANN: Ifaith, I guessed 'twere so. [to himself] C'est curieux! Pourquoi je parle anglais? N'importe. [turning back to HAMLET] Well coz. Why don't you tell me more? HAMLET: Ophelia, that stupid, wanton bitch. Why did she let me shag her? Why? Why? Why? SWANN: They're often like that, friend. Boy, I should know. I've got one of my own. Her name's Odette. HAMLET: Another slag? SWANN: Yeah, too damn right she is. Lesbian tendencies and all that crap. It makes me bleeding sick to think on it. HAMLET: I'm sorry, Swann. Hey, have another drink. SWANN: I thank you kindly. Here's to manly love. [They toast] What is there to be done? Nothing, I fear. Well, I must off. I have a date with Death. HAMLET: Me too! A shame we did not meet before. We have a lot in common, I would say. SWANN: Too bad. Oh well, let's have one for the road. And then depart. [They down their drinks and make to leave] REFEREE: But wait! Who's won the bout? SWANN: It matters not. Why don't we toss a coin? [He notices ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN at a nearby table. There is a coin on it] Good fellows, may I borrow that a sec? HAMLET: Sounds fine to me. Alright: you toss, I'll call. [SWANN tosses the coin. ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN frantically mime to HAMLET that he should call heads, but HAMLET doesn't notice.] HAMLET: Tails! Oh, it's heads. Okay, I'll go die first. Ah, best of luck in this sad vale of tears. [He clasps SWANN's hand and exits right. ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN run after him. SWANN is left standing alone] SWANN: I've had enough of this unholy mess. Well, guess I'll say adieu to the Duchesse. [He exits left. The BARTENDER arrives and begins collecting their empty glasses] CURTAIN (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| not set
| Jan 1999
|
Sep 18, 2011
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
2253123307
| 9782253123309
| 3.96
| 689
| 1951
| Feb 01, 2008
|
- Ladies and gentlemen, watch carefully. Here's Frank, a young punk who lives in his mother's brothel in occupied France. He lies, drinks, steals, doe...more
- Ladies and gentlemen, watch carefully. Here's Frank, a young punk who lives in his mother's brothel in occupied France. He lies, drinks, steals, does black market business with the German officers, commits murder just for fun. Yes, feel free to touch him, he fucks his mother's girls every night while treating them like shit and is also trying to seduce the 16 year old virgin who lives across the hall. Are you still watching... you may check that there is nothing up my sleeve... and now, using only sparse, descriptive prose, I will transform him into a universal symbol of human suffering and redemption that will remind you of L'Etranger, King Lear and Crime and Punishment, but still has a character all its own. Sir, I understand your scepticism. You don't think it's possible, but... ABRACADABRA!!! The audience stare in disbelief. A lone voice from the back asks plaintively: - Bloody hell, how did Simenon do that? (less) | Notes are private!
| 1
| Feb 13, 2012
| Mar 02, 2012
|
Sep 10, 2011
| Paperback
| |||||||||||||||||
207032351X
| 9782070323517
| 4.13
| 423
| unknown
| Apr 21, 1999
|
This week, Cartooning For Peace have an open air exhibition down by the lake. There are many fine pictures on display, but I think my favorite was the...more
This week, Cartooning For Peace have an open air exhibition down by the lake. There are many fine pictures on display, but I think my favorite was the following: ![]() For people who don't know French, both women are thinking "I wouldn't want to be her!" (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| not set
| Jan 1998
|
Jun 16, 2011
| Mass Market Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
2070368467
| 9782070368464
| 3.23
| 22
| 1835
| May 17, 2007
|
- Good morning young man. Mr... Allen, I think it was? - Please call me Woody, sir. - Woody. Well, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Now, why don't y...more - Good morning young man. Mr... Allen, I think it was? - Please call me Woody, sir. - Woody. Well, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Now, why don't you tell me about your screenplay? - Thank you, sir. It's called Blame it on Balzac... - Balzac? Like the French author? - Yes sir. So the hero, he's this nerdy young student. I was thinking I would play him. He's writing a dissertation on Balzac's La Duchesse de Langeais... - I'm not sure I know that one. What's the story? - Well, there's this guy, General Montriveau. He's very brave and resourceful, but he doesn't know anything about women. He's fallen in love with this society beauty, la Duchesse de Langeais, but she keeps giving him the runaround. She doesn't say no, but she doesn't say yes either, she just keeps him hanging around because she likes the attention. She tells him that she loves him too, but she can't sleep with him because she's married, or it's immoral, or whatever... - She's a cocktease then? - Uh, yes sir, you could say that. Now the student is in love with this girl, and she's treating him just the way the Duchesse is treating the General. After a while he starts identifying with the General... - Hm, okay, go on. - So the General doesn't know what to do, and one day he asks a friend for advice. His friend is much more experienced with women, and he says it's easy. There's this key speech he makes. Let me read it out to you. Ah, Sois inflexible comme la loi. N'aie pas plus de charité que n'en a le bourreau. Frappe. Quand tu auras frappé, frappe encore. Frappe toujours... - Son, my French isn't what it used to be. Give it to me in English. - Okay, let me see. Be as inflexible as the law. Show no more mercy than the executioner. Hit her. When you've hit her, hit her again. Keep on hitting her like you were giving her a flogging. These duchesses are tough, but they only soften when you hit them. Suffering gives them a heart, and you're doing them a kindness by hitting them. So... - Right, I get the picture. So your student is inspired by the speech and he tries it out on the girl? - Yes sir. - Does it work? - Well, in the book the Duchess does fall in love with Montriveau, but there's a misunderstanding, and it all ends tragically. She dies without... - Never mind the details. Son, I'm sorry, but this won't work. - Ah, sir, why not? - Well, to start with no one's heard of your book. And it sounds like a total downer too. - Sir, I'm sorry I've wasted your... - Hold your horses, son. I'm thinking. I kind of like the idea, but we have to use something else. Not Balzac. - Maybe Stendhal, sir? There's a similar episode in Le Rouge et le Noir, written just a few years earlier. Julien... - No, not Stendhal either. Not French. People don't like French. I'm thinking... Humphrey Bogart. - Bogart, sir?! - Yes. That speech you gave me. I see your student, and he's listening to Bogart giving him advice. He's saying... ah, let me see... Dames are simple. I never met one that didn't understand a slap in the mouth or a slug from a forty-five. It's pretty much the same, right? - Well sir, I... - And it's going to have a happy ending, right? - Ah... - I've even got a title. Play It Again, Sam. Great idea, Woody. So, when do we start? Tomorrow too early for you? - Sir... - I like you, kid. I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship. (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Mar 02, 2011
| Apr 03, 2011
|
Apr 03, 2011
| Mass Market Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
2259015093
| 9782259015097
| 2.00
| 1
| unknown
| unknown
|
![]() After a while, the story began to seem strangely familiar - an attractive but not overly bright young woman is seduced by a hunky guy with a red moust...more ![]() After a while, the story began to seem strangely familiar - an attractive but not overly bright young woman is seduced by a hunky guy with a red moustache, who persuades her to accompany him to a romantic rendezvous in a secluded spot. Luckily, the dogged Boris Corentin is hot on his trail. But, rather than risk dropping any more spoilers, let me present Chapter 1 of my own version... La Puddle-Duck Jémima Naked, Jémima swam to the bank and, in one sinuous motion, emerged from the water. She stood for a moment and gazed at the reflection mirrored in the pond's smooth surface. The rest of this review is in my book What Pooh Might Have Said to Dante and Other Futile Speculations (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Feb 16, 2011
| Feb 20, 2011
|
Feb 16, 2011
| |||||||||||||||||
1860498809
| 9781860498800
| 3.90
| 61,909
| Sep 05, 2000
| Sep 03, 2001
|
- So are you still trudging through the Margaret Atwood? - George, you should stop being so dismissive! Have you ever read it? - Well, I think I got a...more - So are you still trudging through the Margaret Atwood? - George, you should stop being so dismissive! Have you ever read it? - Well, I think I got as far as chapter three. Typical po-mo cleverness with a story inside a story inside... anyway, I decided I couldn't take any more, so I gave up. - So do you want to know what it's about? - You're going to tell me, aren't you? - Only if you want me to. - Okay, okay. I want you to. Snuggle up and tell me all about it. Satisfied? - Mmm. Well, satisfied for now anyway. You know, George, you actually might like it. Some of it's a bit depressing, but there's this very sexy thread where in each episode she meets her lover, and they lie in bed together and he tells her this bizarre science-fiction story... - A bit like we're doing now? - A bit. - I like that. So what kind of story is it? - Well, he's a pulp SF writer, so it's very pulpy, but in a good way. There's this planet with three suns and seven moons and deadly mountains haunted by beautiful nude undead women with azure hair and eyes like snake-filled pits... - That does sound sexy. I like the snake-filled pits too. - I knew you would. And he's telling it in a very clever, ironic way, and some of the time he's just having fun, and some of the time it's sort of about him and her. - Where does the blind assassin come in? - Well, in the science-fiction story, there's this character who's a blind master assassin. That's sort of the guy telling the story. And he falls in love with this beautiful girl, who's supposed to be sacrificed on the altar. She's sort of the girl he's telling the story to. - How could a master assassin be blind? - Honestly, George, don't be so literal about everything. Anyway, you liked Daredevil, didn't you? - Okay, you got me. Carry on. - Well, the science-fiction story is the innermost one. The guy and the girl are characters in a book that was written by a girl who killed herself by driving off a bridge... - Why did she kill herself? - You don't find out until the end of the book. It's a whydunnit... - You mean there's a plot and everything? - Honestly, George, of course there's a plot! There's even a twist. - Wow. Okay, so the girl killed herself driving off the bridge? - Yes, and her sister, who's now very old, is writing about her and her book, and what happened to make her write it. - And I suppose the book she wrote is about stuff that happened to her and her sister? - Could be. I don't want to drop too many spoilers. - I still don't see why it has to be so complicated. - Well, you thought Inception was great, didn't you? All those layers? - Yeah... - Okay, it's a bit like that. It really works. But you'd have trouble explaining why to someone who hadn't seen it. - Mmm. - Mmm? - You know, it's Valentine's Day. - It is. Sorry, I won't try and sell you any more Margaret Atwood for a while. George. Mmm. - Mmm. - Mmm! ************************* - George? - Mmm? - Were you having a dream? - I think so. - What kind of dream? You had such a funny look on your face. - A dream inside a dream inside a dream. You know, I might read that book after all. (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Feb 05, 2011
| Feb 14, 2011
|
Feb 05, 2011
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
2259018017
| 9782259018012
| 1.00
| 1
| Jan 01, 1987
| 1987
|
In J.P. Donleavy's
The Unexpurgated Code
, one of the best sections covers correct etiquette when visiting prostitutes. Deadpan as ever, Donleavy tell...more
In J.P. Donleavy's
The Unexpurgated Code
, one of the best sections covers correct etiquette when visiting prostitutes. Deadpan as ever, Donleavy tells you, among other things, to agree on terms and services before any stripping occurs. He advises you to drive a firm, hard bargain. "And never accept a tired, bored, couldn't-care-less attitude," he concludes, "even if you are madame's forty-fourth client that day." I'm afraid I find Donleavy's advice very funny. The reason it's funny, I think, is that Donleavy is saying something that at root is true: even if you have an appalling job, you should try and do it professionally and to the best of your ability. Now, I'm not literally arguing that prostitutes should do their best to please their clients - Donleavy's humour, as usual, depends on comic exaggeration - but if you have a slightly less horrible job, like ghost-writing Brigade Mondaine novels, then I definitely agree with him. Having read over 20 titles in the series, I find it fascinating to compare the approaches used by different authors. Quite a few of the books, for example Les Amants de Singapour , La Griffe de l'Ange or La Justicière de Strasbourg are written by people who weren't too proud to take their job seriously. They've succeeded in producing entertaining trash novels, where there's a coherent story and the inevitable lashings of explicit sex are in most cases at least marginally relevant. To these people, I say: Chapeau! I raise my hat to you. I hope you enjoyed your time at the Brigade Mondaine stable as much as you could, learned something from it, and went on to better things. And then you have authors like the one who wrote Les Taxis de l'Amour. By the time I was halfway through, I already hated him. (I'm pretty sure it's a him). Yes, Monsieur, I'm aware that you think you're too good for Brigade Mondaine and that you're wasting your talents here. I can see that you wanted to write a stylish snow-noir à la Fargo, with references to Utrillo's White Period and long, elegant literary sentences. (By the way: your long sentences aren't nearly as elegant as you seem to believe). And then you think, oh yeah, gotta put in some sex to fulfill the terms of my contract, and you just slap it on any old how, without worrying if it makes sense or has anything to do with the story. The jealous wife turns up to murder the Russian actress who's sleeping with her husband and you randomly add some lesbian action, even though it's completely nonsensical and the wife isn't depicted as being bisexual anywhere else. Devoted father-of-three Mémé, who on top of everything else is suffering from a heavy cold, arrives at a brothel to follow up a lead, and you have him fuck the hot waitress because hey, why not, we haven't had any sex for ten pages. Monsieur Smarty-Pants Would-Be-Auteur: are you aware that not one single sex scene is in any way relevant to the plot? You could cut them all out and no one would notice. I'd like to hope that you're ashamed of yourself, but you probably don't even think it's important. Gaaagh. It's people like this that give French intellectuals a bad name. Thank God there are still a few decent craftsmen left who don't think it's beneath them to turn out a competently written dirty book without whining. Keep up the good work, and never for one moment think your readers can't tell the difference. We can. You guys are terrific. (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Jan 15, 2011
| Jan 29, 2011
|
Jan 15, 2011
| |||||||||||||||||
9186369741
| 9789186369743
| 3.74
| 11,298
| Jan 2010
| Oct 20, 2010
|
[Joint review with GULLA KULLA] Chapter 1 The note had just said Tösses Konditori, Karlavägen 77, StockholmThe handwriting was...more [Joint review with GULLA KULLA] Chapter 1 The note had just said Tösses Konditori, Karlavägen 77, StockholmThe handwriting was female. He didn't know why he'd turned up. Maybe it was because he'd tried everything else. "You're R.E. Vuer?" The voice had come from behind him. He spun round, his hand instinctively reaching inside his jacket. The woman looked at him gravely. "Don't shoot me. At least, not until you've drunk your coffee." She put two full cups on the table, then took off her coat and sat down. He had to admit she was quite attractive. "Well?" he asked. She took a sip of coffee. "You've been tracking Patterson for some time now, haven't you?" she said. It wasn't a question. "Maybe," he answered. "He's here," she said. She reached into her bag, and pulled out a shiny paperback. "Look at this." The title was Postcard Killers. There were two authors: James Patterson, Liza Marklund. "Who...?" he said confusedly, shaking his head. Suddenly, the jet-lag was catching up with him. "One of our most popular authors," the woman replied. "She writes... wrote... intelligent feminist thrillers. I read the whole Annika Bengtzon series, all eight of them. Great books." "And now..." She swallowed, visibly fighting back tears. "Her reputation... ruined in one day. No one will ever take her seriously again. She's finished." She looked straight at him. He couldn't help noticing how blue her eyes were. "Mr. Vuer," she said, "I've got to stop that... djävla skithög... before he does it again. Will you help me?" He put his hand on top of hers. "There's nothing I'd like to do better," he growled. "And call me R.E." Chapter 2 They walked down Strandvägen. "Is this your first time in Stockholm?" she asked politely. "Uh-huh," he grunted. "Well," she said. "That's the Royal Palace over there. But you'd probably rather know where Lisbeth Salander lives, right?" He ran his hands through his tangled hair and gave her a crooked smile. Herregud, he really was quite good-looking under that dishevelled exterior! He just needed someone to look after him... She made an effort to pull herself together. "It's up there," she said, pointing. "Nice location, don't you think?" He stopped suddenly. "We're wasting time," he said. "We need to get through four murders and five annoying plot twists, visit Los Angeles, Copenhagen and Oslo, get some back story, fall in love, and have some tasteful but explicit sex before we stop Patterson in a bloody showdown seconds before he gets away. And we need to do it all in the next page and a half. It's impossible. Might as well give up now." She moved closer, and suddenly he was holding her, their bodies molding together. "I know how he persuaded her to do it," she whispered, as she nibbled his right earlobe. "And I've already bought the plane tickets. Still think it's impossible?" He pulled back for a moment, then kissed her again. "Hey," he said softly. "I think I like working with you." [The rest of this review has been suppressed in the interests of good taste and general public decency] Afterword from the second author When world-famous Goodreads reviewer Manny Rayner contacted me and asked if I would like to help him write this article, I was so pleased and flattered! Oh yes, I said, without a second thought. Maybe this will make me famous too! - Gulla Kulla(less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Dec 31, 2010
| Jan 2011
|
Dec 31, 2010
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
2070417085
| 9782070417087
| 3.54
| 80
| Apr 14, 1999
| Feb 01, 2001
|
There's this well-known fact that the recent past is the strangest period in history. I mean, not that long ago it was the present, and then what happ...more
There's this well-known fact that the recent past is the strangest period in history. I mean, not that long ago it was the present, and then what happened? So, earlier today, I was reading this rather mediocre Benacquista collection on the train and ran into the following story, published as recently as 1997. The hero is happily married, two young kids, lives in a little French village. The family's favourite toy is their VCR. (Remember VCRs?) There's always a friendly fight in the evening about what movie they're going to watch. What the rest of the family doesn't know is that Dad has a secret porn habit. Late at night, when everyone else has turned in, he sneaks off and watches half an hour on the VCR. Then, when he's suitably aroused, he gets into bed with his wife and they do all the naughty things he's just been watching. He loves it, she loves it, and it's done wonders for their marriage. But... one day, the tape refuses to emerge from the machine when he presses the eject button! He tries all the tricks he can think of, but Cum-Hungry Sluts #17, or whatever it is, is obstinately stuck. The next day, everyone discovers that the machine is out of action. They ask him to take it in to the video shop to get it fixed, but it's a little village, the guy who runs it doesn't like him, and he knows that his secret will be all over town inside two minutes. So he keeps on making excuse after excuse, and everyone is madder and madder at him. In the end, he resolves on a desperate expedient. He fakes a burglary, making it look like someone has broken in and stolen the VCR. (He also takes the opportunity to steal the hideous vase which his wife loves, but which he can't stand). He dumps everything at the local tip. The VCR was insured, so they can get a new one. Problem solved. And now the twist! A few weeks later, a stranger shows up at the front door. He was poking around at the tip, and found the VCR, still in good working order. There was a label on it, and he felt obliged to track down the owner. Of course, it still has the tape stuck inside. But, somehow, the stranger is able to unjam it, and then everyone is curious to see what it is. They put it on, and our hero is just about to be unmasked... when his nice wife says that this tape has caused so much trouble that she isn't watching another second. She takes it out and bins it. Phew! Well, it's a terrible story, and I won't even start counting the logical holes. But the thing that struck me most was the way it highlighted how perceptions of porn have changed since it was written. I just can't imagine this happening today, but I don't think it was that implausible in the 90s. It is a little scary to see how quickly porn has gone mainstream.(less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| Dec 10, 2010
| Dec 13, 2010
|
Dec 11, 2010
| |||||||||||||||||
0806527749
| 9780806527741
| 3.32
| 227
| Jan 01, 1979
| Jan 01, 2006
|
Yesterday, I reviewed Inside Linda Lovelace, one of the books Lovelace wrote while she was still inhabiting the personality of the sex-toy 60s porn st...more
Yesterday, I reviewed Inside Linda Lovelace, one of the books Lovelace wrote while she was still inhabiting the personality of the sex-toy 60s porn star. I consider I am honour bound also to review Ordeal, the book she wrote after leaving the porn industry. It's a very disquieting read. Lovelace completely denies all her earlier testimony. She says that, for years, she was regularly raped and brutalised by her partner, Chuck Traynor. Traynor controlled every aspect of her life and forced her into prostitution and pornography. Any time she objected, he threatened to kill her. When she needed to make a phone call, he would hold a loaded gun pointed at her while she talked. It is a little difficult to reconcile the two versions. Given that she admits to having systematically lied for years, one of course wonders whether this book isn't just more lies. Maybe her new life was being controlled by the feminist anti-porn movement in as cynical a way as her old life was controlled by Traynor. Well, I was thinking that earlier today, and literally a couple of minutes later the morning paper arrived. Let me copy in the story that appeared at the bottom of page 1 of The Guardian: At midnight on 28 November last year, Sarah made the phone call she says she thought would save her life. After nine years of abuse from a man she describes as so controlling that she wasn't allowed her own purse, let alone bank card or driving licence, she had finally been pushed over the edge.Linda, I'm sorry for doubting you. You were a little late getting there, but I think you were giving us the plain facts. (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| not set
| Jan 1983
|
Nov 27, 2010
| Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
0902826115
| 9780902826113
| 2.45
| 11
| unknown
| unknown
|
I got into a discussion with Elizabeth yesterday about the character of Edward in the Twilight series. I maintained that Edward came across as an amor...more
I got into a discussion with Elizabeth yesterday about the character of Edward in the Twilight series. I maintained that Edward came across as an amoral, controlling psychopath. Elizabeth, though not an Edward fan (she said at one point that she couldn't believe she was defending him) said I was exaggerating. For example, I strongly questioned Edward's claim that he'd never desired any woman but Bella. Elizabeth said Edward was very truthful. Throughout the four books, he's never caught out telling a lie: hence, since there is nothing in the text to contradict this claim, we should believe him. As I said then, I completely respect Elizabeth's interpretation, but it isn't one I can share. For me, Edward's too far-fetched. No person I have ever met could behave this way, so I am irresistibly drawn to the conclusion that someone is not telling the truth. Either Edward is lying to Bella, or Bella is an unreliable narrator, or Stephanie Meyer is lying to her audience. But I freely admit that I don't know which one it is, and, as Elizabeth says, there is nothing in the text that directly supports my point of view. I started wondering if I could come up with a similar case where new evidence had in fact forced a reevaluation of a character, and a couple of hours later a story on Yahoo News suggested one. Poor Lindsay Lohan has been dropped from Inferno, the movie of Linda Lovelace's book Ordeal, where Lovelace describes how she was raped, beaten and forced (literally) at gunpoint to perform in Deep Throat, the classic porno movie that made her famous. Before she wrote Ordeal, however, she wrote, or more probably ghost-wrote, two other books, of which this is one. I don't think I ever read the whole thing, but I'm pretty sure that, as a 15 year old, I browsed through at least a couple of chapters at my local bookstore. Linda recounts how she met wonderful, sexy Chuck Traynor (I shudder at the near-coincidence with my own surname), who opened her up to a world of orgasmic delights, all of which are described in juicy detail. At the time, I had no sexual experience at all, but I do recall feeling a tiny bit sceptical. It somehow seemed just a little too much. On the other hand, the text was quite consistent, and what did I know about it? Maybe it was exactly as Linda described. Well, it's now clear that Linda Lovelace was an unreliable narrator. Either she was lying in Inside Linda Lovelace, or she was lying in Ordeal, or, indeed, she was lying in both. Quite a few people have tried to make out that she was telling the truth in the first version, or at least that the second version, written after she became a born-again Christian, is also substantially inaccurate. I haven't researched it in any detail, but Ordeal rings true in a way that Inside Linda Lovelace simply doesn't. The first Chuck is an implausible fantasy. The second is an all-too-plausible monster. Along with most of the rest of the world, I believe Version 2. To go back to where we came in, I still don't know what's going on with Edward. Maybe the official story is all there is to it. But if a Bella's Ordeal ever appears, and Stephanie Meyer reveals that much of the first four books is inaccurate and that Edward is quite a different person from the one presented there, then I think I'll have the same reaction. At last, something that makes sense. (less) | Notes are private!
| none
|
1
| not set
| Jan 1974
|
Nov 26, 2010
| |||||||||||||||||
0141019883
| 9780141019888
| unknown
| 2.92
| 516
| Jun 27, 2006
| Aug 02, 2007
|
- Sweetie, how are you? We haven't talked for - - That fucking cow. I saw him with her the other day. - Oh, I'm sorry - - Well, at least it looks like it...more - Sweetie, how are you? We haven't talked for - - That fucking cow. I saw him with her the other day. - Oh, I'm sorry - - Well, at least it looks like it's a difficult pregnancy. I hope she's got varicose veins. - You know, you shouldn't - - And I hope those little half-cup bras aren't as comfortable as they used to be. I hope they cut into her disgusting swollen tits every time she wears them. - Sweetie, really - - I bet she'll be a terrible mother. She has no idea how to deal with children. None whatsoever. And she can't cook either. - Well, we'll have to - - She's no good for him, you know. She stresses him out. He always looks so tired. She only thinks about herself. - Yes, he does rather - - If he just drops dead one day it'll be her fault. It would serve them both right. - Sweetie - - I sometimes wonder what he's put in his will. I think she might get a nasty surprise. - I - - Then she'd have to get by on her own. She'd see what it was like. The stupid fucking bitch. Bitch. Aargh! - Shall I get us another round? - Thanks. Oh fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk about myself all the time, I just can't help it. So what are you doing? How's the novel coming along? - Blocked. Can't decide how to continue. - Oh, that's awful! I loved the first one. And I'm just going on and on, I know, I hear myself saying these terrible things and I wish I didn't, but - - Sweetie, don't worry. Let it all out and you'll feel better. I love listening to you. - You do? Really? - I do. - Oh my god, you're always so nice to me, I feel ashamed. You know, really, in my heart of hearts, I know she's not so bad. I'm just so fucking angry with her. And with him. - Well of course you are. - You're right. Now I've said all that shit, I feel better. We should meet more often. - We should! - Look, I hope you start getting unblocked with your book soon. - Actually, I just had an idea. I wonder - - Oh fuck, is it one o'clock already? I'm so sorry, I have to go. We'll talk more about you next time. Sorry. Sorry! Bye. - Sweetie, it's okay! See you soon. Bye. And you look after yourself. - Mwah! - Mwah! (less) | Notes are private!
| Elisabeth
|
1
| Nov 21, 2010
| Nov 22, 2010
|
Nov 21, 2010
| Paperback
| |||||||||||||||
0374199485
| 9780374199487
| 3.73
| 1,315
| 1995
| Jun 01, 1995
|
People see different things in this unusual book. Let me start with the undisputed facts. The novel is written by Richard Powers, and its narrator is...more
People see different things in this unusual book. Let me start with the undisputed facts. The novel is written by Richard Powers, and its narrator is a character also called Richard Powers. The narrator and the author share a good deal of personal history. Among other things, they have both written three novels with the same titles and, as far as I can judge, similar content. They are both Americans who lived in Thailand when they were children, moved to Holland when they were adults, and learned to speak reasonably good Dutch. They both got their first degrees at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, initially studying physics and then switching to literature. They both returned to Urbana-Champaign when they were around 35 to take up a post as Writer in Residence. There are other areas where I am pretty certain that the author and the narrator have had different experiences. In particular, the narrator, while he is Writer-in-Residence, becomes involved in a daring research project, whose goal is to create an artificially intelligent entity capable of passing a literature exam. The AI is well done. Powers has worked with software, knows a fair amount about it, and has familiarized himself with neural nets and other relevant background. He's very interested in the philosophical question of "grounding". How can a piece of software know what language means without experiencing the world directly though its senses? More generally, does the meaning of language derive from its connection to the world, or can one understand language in its own terms? In between the real and the imagined, there are things which may or may not reflect the author's personal history. In the story, "Powers" is in a state of near-suicidal depression after breaking up with the love of his life, a woman referred to only as C. The book alternates between the present, where Powers works on the AI project, and the past, where he remembers his life together with C. It's hard to be sure whether the relationship with C. really happened, but I'm inclined to believe it did, at least in some form. The analogy that occurs to me is with Lolita, one of my favourite books. When he wrote it, Nabokov had recently moved to the US. He was an immigrant whose command of English, though good, was by no means perfect. He was also unhealthily attracted to young girls. I know this is to some extent controversial, but the theme turns up in so many of Nabokov's books that I can't believe it didn't reflect something real; I'm pretty sure he never acted on his impulses. At any rate, Nabokov made the brilliant pragmatic decision to use the material he had available. He made Humbert Humbert another immigrant with a similar sexual fixation, I believe greatly exaggerating the side of his character which he was most frightened and ashamed of, and created a masterpiece. Similarly, I think Powers worked with the material he had - though it feels to me that he was closer to it, and the novel lacks the distance needed to be completely successful. By all accounts, Powers is a person who has spent his whole life living in a world of words. He's read obsessively since he was a small child, and he published three good novels before he was 35. The narrator of the book hardly experiences life directly at all, except though his relationship with C. When that relationship breaks down, he wonders if he has ever really understood her, or understood anything. Can you live just though language? The book is a dense web of allusions and quotations: every page is full of ones I recognise, and I'm sure I missed plenty. To me, Helen, the AI program, is standing in for Powers himself. Helen can only experience the world through language. Powers is good at showing us how language, and especially great literature, can open up new ways to see the world, but even more importantly he shows us just how much it misses. Words are a poor substitute for love. To me, and I see to many other readers, Helen is the most appealing character, and the one who redeems the book. She is just a piece of software, but she desperately wants to experience the world directly, through the senses she doesn't have, and escape the web of language; in the end, she helps the narrator reconnect to his life. Against all the odds, this friendship between a depressed workaholic and a machine ends up being a touching and uplifting story. (less) | Notes are private!
| 1
| Nov 13, 2010
| Nov 16, 2010
|
Nov 02, 2010
| Hardcover
|








































Loading...
