brian 's Reviews > Axel's Castle: A Study of the Imaginative Literature of 1870-1930

Axel's Castle by Edmund Wilson
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message 1: by Lorraine (new)

Lorraine that's one critic whom I really respect. wilson rocks. so hard to find that sort of spirit in academia nowadays

message 2: by David (new)

David Randy Quaid: Literary Critic.

He's suited and ready for action!

message 3: by Rod (new)

Rod David, I wish there was a "Like" button for comments just so I could pointedly not press it.

message 4: by Michelle (new)

Michelle Randy Quaid: Literary Critic.


message 5: by brian (last edited Jul 19, 2012 10:23AM) (new) - rated it 4 stars

brian   wow.
they really do look a lot alike!

yup, lorraine. this book is pretty amazing.
in clear & direct prose he offers up the best 'explanation' i've come across of what joyce & proust were up to.

message 6: by [deleted user] (new)

You have been right in my wheelhouse lately, BG. I love Wilson, loved this book, and also adored, ADORED, PATRIOTIC GORE, his book on the lit of the Civil War. Meanwhile, don't know if you've ever read his short fiction in MEMOIRS OF HECATE COUNTY, but the novella in it, "The Princess With the Golden Hair," could well be my second favorite love story of all time (first goes to MY ANTONIA). It's an arresting tale set in New York during the forties, which makes it even better.

message 7: by [deleted user] (new)

So this makes Nabokov Dennis Quaid...right? RIGHT?!

message 8: by [deleted user] (new)

""The question begins to press us again as to whether it is possible to make a practical success of human society, and whether, if we continue to fail, a few masterpieces,
however profound or noble, will be able to make life worth living even for the few people in a position to enjoy them."

message 9: by [deleted user] (new)

"but all about us we are aware of nameless millions performing barren office routines, wearing down their souls in interminable labors of which the products never bring them profit, people whose pleasures are so sordid and so feeble that they seem almost sadder than their pains. And this Waste Land has another aspect: it is a place not merely of desolation, but of anarchy and doubt. In our post-War world of
shattered institutions, strained nerves and bankrupt ideals, life no longer seems serious or coherent, we have no belief in the things we do and consequently we have no heart for them."

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