5.4.21

Too Late Now: You Should Have Left by Daniel Kehlmann (trans. Ross Benjamin)

You Should Have Left by Daniel Kehlmann
translated by Ross Benjamin
available at your local library

A family trip to a remote house in the shadow of an imposing mountain goes awry in this slim novella. Our narrator is a screenwriter under pressure to produce a sequel to his hit film and the book is a chronicle of those halting efforts and a diary of what transpires over a few days.
 
At first he mostly records familiar marital and familial frustrations -- he and his wife have a four-year-old daughter and there are tensions -- but soon he begins to note inexplicable and unsettling phenomena. His reflection disappears from a window. The layout of the house seems confusing and odd. Photographs seem to appear and disappear from the walls. And soon the entire family begins to have strange nightmares...

If this sounds like the set-up to a comfortably familiar horror movie, it basically is. Kehlmann does a fine job of hitting the usual tropes of the genre -- locals warn him to "get away" before something bad happens but is it already too late? -- and he is generally successful in elevating the book above strictly genre fare. His narrator is a screenwriter, after all, and he's able to offer some commentary on life and art, and there are some genuinely thrilling moments.

If the novella ultimately fails to completely satisfy, well, there are only so many ways a horror movie can end. Still, You Should Have Left is a great book to gulp down in a single sitting some dark night when you can't sleep.
 

29.3.21

Two Poems by Based Mountain

No two artists starve alike 
But nobody should starve 
Artist or janitor
American or Kongo
Crispr is for food
Genetically modified humans
Are not food
No matter what soylent green says
Fucking soylent green
Always playing the clown, soylent green
 
Meanwhile in the DMs

KM is showing me pictures
of her legos
it looks like han solo is 100ft tall
it reminds me of paintings
where perspective ain't shit
my favourite kind of paintings
i show her momkyio's tigers
the strokes are so fine
are so numerous that the fur is naturalistic
but the head is flat and the ears are flat
and the smile is anything but flat
we laugh and then i eat a kitkat
crunch crunch crunch...crunch
...crunch crunch?      Crunch! 
 

21.3.21

Lost in Weimar: Georg by Siegfried Kracauer (trans. Carl Skoggard)


Georg is a brisk, funny, and pretty grim novel about trying and failing to find one's place in a confounding world. 
 
Readers follow Georg, our titular 20-something Everyman, as he drifts from chance encounter to chance encounter, embroils himself in a dreamy, dead-end love affair, and falls more or less by accident into the role of reporter at a newspaper, the Morgenboten.

This last development allows him some small exposure to civic and political life, a kind of public engagement the young man professes to seek. It's a wild, confusing society he covers, one that feels relevant to our own turbulent times. Georg's fumbling is both human and satirical, and at times he reads a little bit like Kafka's hapless K., doomed to remain forever outside the Castle.
 
In a bitingly funny revelation, all of Georg's reports are, unbeknownst to him, exactly what the paper wants to print for its own purposes and motives. The Morgenboten positions itself as a leading voice of the Left even as it borrows money from banks to stay afloat. Georg winds up serving the masters he says he wants to undermine, but how long can such an arrangement possibly last?

It's not spoiling much to say that Georg never finds his footing in this confused and dangerous world. He's rather shy and unsure of himself, which may indeed be to his credit given that he's surrounded by people full of passionate intensity, to borrow a phrase. The people he meets are full of conviction but are never quite convincing.
 
If Georg ends up the wiser for his travails, it might be something of a negative enlightenment, a kind of growing up or maybe just older, and the novel ends with a striking image of a society teetering into some new abyss. May we tread carefully or risk being swallowed up.