Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The old days
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Process philosophy is good for you...
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Re: Hiraku Murakami
He baffles some people, I'm sure. His work almost invariably contains a fair amount of modern Tokyo culture, (invariably jazz clubs, meticulous food preparation and an ongoing domestic crisis), but he uses it like Stephen King uses McDonald's references: a familiar door through which you pass on your way beyond anything like recognizable territory.
He's also done some classic reportage (the Kobe quake, the Aum Shinrikio subway gassing), as meticulous as any of his work, with his own idiosyncratic views. And he's put his more recent novels on an almost purely existential plane, 'Kafka at the Shore' being the best example.
Translators make a big difference with Murakami. I've seen a couple of abysmal ones, each of whose names I've forgotten, but Alfred Birnbaum (or, in a pinch, Jay Rubin) has been with Murakami's work from the beginning, he's colloquially familiar, and is clearly most comfortable with him.
I could go on and on (as if I hadn't already); there's a lot more work. 'Wind-Up Bird' I was reading the day my son was born, and the day after. Quite a memory. I apologize for all of this, Roy, but I so infrequently see anyone mention Murakami, and I think his work is uniformly brilliant, no matter where you start. But I'd highly recommend starting somewhere.
On Aug 26, 2010, at 9:56 AM, Roy Griffin <roygg9@yahoo.com> wrote:
> I've been reading his book, THE WINDUP BIRD CHRONICLES. It's not my usual escapist fare, but a work of real litrachoor--like Michael Caine sez in the movie, *Educating Rita.*
>
> For an ex-English teacher, I have a pretty bad track record for a lot of the classics I'm supposed to have read. It's not that I don't recognize their greatness. I was well into MOBY DICK & was thinking *great stuff*--then I lost the fire, and stopped reading. I don't know why. I wasn't bored exactly, but it just didn't sing to me any more. And I do intend to finish it some day (yeah, yeah, the paving to the Bad Place & all that...)
>
> And frankly, I was worried the same thing would happen with Murakami. But it didn't. And it hasn't. And, somehow, I can tell it won't.
>
> To call Murakami's book "magic realism" is probably a crude description but it gives you an idea...
>
> He's full of quotable remarks that seem to embody a kind of wisdom that straddles the categories of worldly, transcendental and psychological. I'm not sure they have any real application for anyone other than Murakami or his characters. but their spirit is eminently humanist and unobtrusively edifying...somehow.
>
> I believe if I keep reading this sort of thing I will develop a certain capacity for natural human feeling. Oh, well.
>
>
> R.
>
> http://gg9-tto.blogspot.com/
>
Hiraku Murakami
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Re: A Glass Not Empty...I guess...
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
A Glass Not Empty...I guess...
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Gol' dangit--he wuz quicker on the draw than me...
I held the reins of his horse
while he went into the desert
to pee. Yes, he reflected
when he returned, that's less.
How long, he asked
have you been in this territory.
Years I said. Years.
Then you will know where we can have
a cold drink before sunset and then a bed
will be my desire
if you can find one for me
I have no wish to continue
my debate with men,
my mare lathers with tedium
her hooves are dry
Look they are covered with the alkali
of the enormous space
between here and formerly.
Need I repeat, we have come
without sleep from Nuevo Laredo.
And why do you have such a horse
Gunslinger? I asked. Don't move
he replied
the,sun rests deliberately
on the rim of the sierra.
And where will you now I asked.
Five days northeast of here
depending of course on whether one's horse
is of iron or flesh
there is a city called Boston
and in that city there is a' hotel
whose second floor has been let
to an inscrutable Texan named Hughes
Howard? I asked
The very same.
And what do you mean by inscrutable,
oh Gunslinger?
I mean to say that He
has not been seen since 1833
But when you have found him my Gunslinger
what will you do, oh what will you do?
You would not know
that the souls of old Texans
are in jeopardy in a way not common
to other men, my singular friend.
You would not know
of the long plains night
where they carry on
and arrange their genetic duels
with men of other states
so there is a longhorn bull half mad
half deity
who awaits an account from me
back of the sun you nearly disturbed
just then. I
Lets have that drink.
STRUM
STRUM
And by that sound
we had come there, false fronts
my Gunslinger said make
the people mortal
and give their business
an inward cast. They cause culture.
Honk HONK,Honk HONK Honk
that sound comes
at the end of the dusty street,
where we meet the gaudy Madam
of that very cabaret going in
where our drink is to be drunk
Hello there, Slinger! Long time
no see
what brings you, who's your friend,
to these parts, and where
if you don't mind my asking, Hello,
are you headed...
Boston!? you don't say, Boston
is an actionable town they say
never been there myself
Not that I mean to slight the boys
but I've had some nice girls
from up Boston way
they turned out real spunky!
But you look like you
always did Slinger, you
still make me- shake, I mean
why do you think I've got my hand on
my hip if not to steady myself
and the way I twirl this
Kansas City parasol
if not to keep the dazzle
of them spurs outa my eyes
Miss Lil! I intervened
you musn't slap my
Gunslinger on the back
in such an off hand manner
I think the sun, the moon
and some of the stars are
kept in their tracks
by this Person's equilibrium
or at least I sense some effect
on the perigee and apogee of all
our movements in this, I can't quite say,
man's presence, the setting sun's
attention I would allude to
and the very appearance
of his neurasthenic mare
a genuine Nejdee
lathered, as you can see, with abstract fatigue
Shit, Slinger! you still got that
marvelous creature, and who is this
funny talker, you pick him up
in some sludgy seat of higher
learnin, Creeps! you always did
hang out with some curious refugees.
Anyway come up and see me
and bring your friend, anytime
if you're gonna be in town we
got an awful lot to talk about
Do you know said the Gunslinger
as he held the yellow tequila up
in the waning light of the cabaret
that this liquid is the last
dwindling impulse of the sun
and then he turned and knelt
and faced that charred orb
as it rolled below the swinging doors
as if it were entering yet descending
and he said to me NO!
it is not. It is that
cruelly absolute sign my father