"On The Road", the classic 1957 novel by Jack Kerouac, had been residing on my bookshelves for some time, pleading to be read. To my shame, I have hardly read any "Beat" literature, and was therefore a little unsure what to expect.
In a nutshell, "On The Road" tells the story of Sal Paradise (the narrator, and based on Kerouac himself) and his friends as they embark on various journeys and trips across America. It is semi-autobiographical, and other characters are based on Kerouac's friends and associates. The tale is set primarily in the late 1940s.
To grasp the essence of this novel, it is necessary to understand the mindset of the colourful characters, in particular that of Dean Moriarty, Sal's friend and regular travelling companion. They habitually operate outside what would be considered social norms. The fact that their outlook still seems outlandish is perhaps a sad commentary on twenty-first century life. Are we still, deep down, so conformist?
The "Beat" concept is somewhat nebulous at the best of times, and must appear even more so with our modern modes of communication and discourse, and their tendency to polarize so many things. The lifestyles appear dissolute, but the joie-de-vivre of Dean and the others is enticing. Some of the behaviour detailed in "On The Road" must bemuse even self-proclaimed free spirits. The effect is perhaps more acute because these events are meant to have occurred not long after World War 2, in a period when we are told that most people were craving stability and security.
The fact that this book has a narrator is an aid to keeping track of the characters and their numerous trials, tribulations, revelations and relocations. One of the surprising things to newcomers is that this story is not one of a single journey or trip, but a series occurring over several years, with other events sandwiched in between.
Along the way, we meet a number of engaging and fascinating figures, and learn about their encounters with our "heroes". Many of these episodes are touching and poignant. Some are vignettes, others are more protracted and in-depth. The sadness and harshness of lives, but also the richness and vitality of our world and the human experience. The occasional craziness does not totally obscure the genuine pathos. What also emerges is an affinity for sub-cultures, for the marginalized and the downtrodden.
Whilst reading "On The Road", I was reminded that it would have been easier to pursue these adventures back in those days, when the world was not so weighed down by regulations and bureaucracy. The title "On The Road" does not just denote a journey, but a way of life, a world-view and an ongoing quest. The "unconventional" existence being led by these people was also a strikingly simple one. Straight society struggles to comprehend that it makes its own life complicated and burdensome.
The conduct of the circle becomes more exuberant and far-out once Dean Moriarty fully re-enters the fray. The prose grows more poetic and evocative, and the stream-of-consciousness a more frequent feature.
The outlook of some characters, such as Old Bull Lee, might surprise or confuse a few people. Explicit social commentary is offered only sparingly, and is not always about "obvious" topics. The reluctance to take the easy option is one of the most noticeable things about this novel.
It seemed that in this book, Kerouac acquired the knack of imbuing the mundane with drama and nobility, and of placing the everyday alongside the esoteric and the exotic. The "cameos", involving hitch-hikers and other people met along the routes, add charm and variety, and help to form the tapestry, as well as telling us more about the impulses driving the main players.
In amongst the euphoria and the exhilaration which the participants met on their travels, there were periods of disenchantment and despair, when "home", in its conventional sense, seemed the best place to be after all. In between the trips, acquaintances were renewed and the changes absorbed.
Personally, I could take or leave the lengthy passages extolling the virtues of various jazz musicians, and of the source and impact of their artistry, but I accept that they are important in forming an understanding the world of Dean, Sal and company.
Criminality raises its head more and more as the story progresses. They may have been testing the boundaries, but were they in reality flagrantly breaching them? A theme which gradually predominates is the decision of people to shun and ostracize Dean. Of course, Sal was not one of these. I identified with Sal more than I did with Dean, but Dean's story is admittedly more heart-rending, vibrant and eventful.
The chapters set in Mexico are the most stimulating, and in some respects the centrepiece of the whole story. Mexico as a metaphor for the promised land, what these people have been searching for? Needless to say, the ultimate outcome is rather ambiguous.
One of the lessons which I detected in the pages of "On The Road" is that however dismal and monotonous things may appear, there is always something good just around the corner, and there is plenty to relish and savour in the "here and now". Much of the problem is one of perception, and how we have been conditioned to think and approach our lives and the world around us. Life is a never-ending cycle...
This is a novel which it is possible to read quite quickly, as it has a flow to it, and does not compel the reader to take in every semi-colon and comma. Not quite what I was expecting, in all honesty, but equally I enjoyed "On The Road" more than I had anticipated.
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Saturday, 3 October 2015
Sunday, 2 August 2015
Island - Aldous Huxley - book review
I recently read Aldous Huxley's 1962 novel Island, which is often seen as the utopian counterpart to Brave New World.
This was the first time that I had read any of Huxley's work seriously. I chose Island because the philosophies which seemed to underpin it appealed to me;it is a "novel of ideas", and the ideas propounded here increasingly accord with my own inclinations.
In short, the plot revolves around an English journalist, Will Farnaby, who is shipwrecked on the island of Pala. He is working on behalf of an oil baron. Farnaby is exposed to the way of life on Pala, all of this against the backdrop of negotiations over oil concessions in the region, and with the spectre of invasion by an adjacent, less enlightened, island looming.
Pala is a community which seeks to achieve a fusion of the most enlightened ideas from both Europe and the Orient (the best of both worlds?), standing in contrast to the relentless advance of industrialization, consumerism, tyranny and mass communication in the outside world.
Despite my admiration for the ideals and values which the Palanese espouse, one is left with a feeling of regret and sadness early on in the piece, because of the inevitability of this utopia being trampled on by darker forces, which are intent on bringing the island in line with the misery and injustice being inflicted elsewhere.
To me, there was a real poignancy in reading this story, knowing that noble projects such as that in Pala will find themselves crushed, and dreary and oppressive conformity will be (forcibly) imposed. I say this even allowing for the customary charge that such utopian thinking is naive and "impractical". The feeling of helplessness and resignation is acute . Perhaps the world needs a new "age of enlightenment" - although that would probably be crushed, too....
I had expected Island to contain some criticism of organised Western religion, but was surprised at the vehemence of that criticism. There is much emphasis on Eastern philosophy in the Pala mix. The concepts of "oneness", awareness, mindfulness and so forth are a constant theme here.
There is I think a case for saying that Huxley was slightly ahead of his time in tackling matters like globalization, ecology and corporatism in such a way. He also makes some prescient observations about the fate of the ex-colonies in the developing world. The Palanese attitude to science and technology is also distinctive - seeking to make it work for the benefit of human freedom and happiness, rather than allowing people to become its prisoners.
A recurring message which I absorbed from this novel was the manner in which fear and insecurity are the main tools by which malign and repressive forces are introduced and embedded in society. Exploiting weaknesses and vices as opposed to harnessing virtues. Cynical, but regrettably highly effective.
Some of the more intriguing aspects of the Palanese vision are the social policies, which differ radically from those seen in the West, especially those concerning population, birth control and the family unit. Considerable space is also allocated to the educational practices and medical procedures designed to minimize and diminish tyrannical and autocratic tendencies in the citizens.
The Will Farnaby character was a little enigmatic to me, although I found his occasionally cynical and sarcastic comments quite endearing. These remarks sometimes made it tricky to discern his true attitudes to what he was absorbing and observing as he spent time in Pala.
As a novel, Island is awkward to appraise, in the conventional sense, but the expounding of ideas is most stimulating. There was less "action" in the narrative than I had anticipated, with the majority of the text taken up by Farnaby's discussions with various Palanese people about how things worked on the island. The geo-political manoeuvrings were more of a backdrop than a centerpiece for the most part. The ending is predictably downbeat and sobering.
As a "novel of ideas", this book is well worth a read.
This was the first time that I had read any of Huxley's work seriously. I chose Island because the philosophies which seemed to underpin it appealed to me;it is a "novel of ideas", and the ideas propounded here increasingly accord with my own inclinations.
In short, the plot revolves around an English journalist, Will Farnaby, who is shipwrecked on the island of Pala. He is working on behalf of an oil baron. Farnaby is exposed to the way of life on Pala, all of this against the backdrop of negotiations over oil concessions in the region, and with the spectre of invasion by an adjacent, less enlightened, island looming.
Pala is a community which seeks to achieve a fusion of the most enlightened ideas from both Europe and the Orient (the best of both worlds?), standing in contrast to the relentless advance of industrialization, consumerism, tyranny and mass communication in the outside world.
Despite my admiration for the ideals and values which the Palanese espouse, one is left with a feeling of regret and sadness early on in the piece, because of the inevitability of this utopia being trampled on by darker forces, which are intent on bringing the island in line with the misery and injustice being inflicted elsewhere.
To me, there was a real poignancy in reading this story, knowing that noble projects such as that in Pala will find themselves crushed, and dreary and oppressive conformity will be (forcibly) imposed. I say this even allowing for the customary charge that such utopian thinking is naive and "impractical". The feeling of helplessness and resignation is acute . Perhaps the world needs a new "age of enlightenment" - although that would probably be crushed, too....
I had expected Island to contain some criticism of organised Western religion, but was surprised at the vehemence of that criticism. There is much emphasis on Eastern philosophy in the Pala mix. The concepts of "oneness", awareness, mindfulness and so forth are a constant theme here.
There is I think a case for saying that Huxley was slightly ahead of his time in tackling matters like globalization, ecology and corporatism in such a way. He also makes some prescient observations about the fate of the ex-colonies in the developing world. The Palanese attitude to science and technology is also distinctive - seeking to make it work for the benefit of human freedom and happiness, rather than allowing people to become its prisoners.
A recurring message which I absorbed from this novel was the manner in which fear and insecurity are the main tools by which malign and repressive forces are introduced and embedded in society. Exploiting weaknesses and vices as opposed to harnessing virtues. Cynical, but regrettably highly effective.
Some of the more intriguing aspects of the Palanese vision are the social policies, which differ radically from those seen in the West, especially those concerning population, birth control and the family unit. Considerable space is also allocated to the educational practices and medical procedures designed to minimize and diminish tyrannical and autocratic tendencies in the citizens.
The Will Farnaby character was a little enigmatic to me, although I found his occasionally cynical and sarcastic comments quite endearing. These remarks sometimes made it tricky to discern his true attitudes to what he was absorbing and observing as he spent time in Pala.
As a novel, Island is awkward to appraise, in the conventional sense, but the expounding of ideas is most stimulating. There was less "action" in the narrative than I had anticipated, with the majority of the text taken up by Farnaby's discussions with various Palanese people about how things worked on the island. The geo-political manoeuvrings were more of a backdrop than a centerpiece for the most part. The ending is predictably downbeat and sobering.
As a "novel of ideas", this book is well worth a read.
Monday, 13 July 2015
Doctor Faustus - Thomas Mann - book review
After thoroughly relishing two of Thomas Mann's novels, The Magic Mountain and Buddenbrooks, I decided to move on to Doctor Faustus, published in 1947.
Doctor Faustus tells the life story of a fictional composer, Adrian Leverkuhn, through the narration of his friend Zeitbolm. The narration itself is delivered against the background of the unfolding horrors of the Second World War, allowing much scope for parallels with the time in which the events of the story actually occurred, and with the fate of Leverkuhn. The composer's fate or destiny are not blatantly employed as a direct metaphor for those of Germany, or vice-versa, but the implied comparison adds depth and lustre to the novel.
In the earlier chapters there is much musing on intellectual, cultural and socio-political matters. At first reading, these can seem like tangents or diversions, but they make sense in the end, both in terms of how the plot develops and in providing some background context on the times in which Leverkuhn, Zeitbolm and their contemporaries lived and worked. They serve too as indicators of how the composer was beginning to stand out from the crowd even in his formative years, in his outlook on life and culture.
In stating the above, I must confess to having found Doctor Faustus quite heavy going up until around the halfway point. Certainly when compared to the more "fluent" and accessible delights of The Magic Mountain and Buddenbrooks, it can feel like this one takes an inordinate amount of time to "happen". The writing style and language are more impenetrable and less flowing.The passages which abound with musical technicalities, theory and jargon may not be to everyone's taste. Concentration and persistence are required, but one is rewarded towards the conclusion, as the fog disperses.
My impression, rightly or wrongly, was that Mann (via the narrator) left the main aspects of the story, namely Leverkuhn's mental afflictions and his supposed pact with sinister supernatural forces, ever so slightly ambiguous, and up to the reader to weigh and interpret.
As with the other Thomas Mann novels which I have encountered, the characters have depth and plausibility, and the author goes to great lengths to illustrate and convey their traits and characteristics. As this story progresses, the social circle of the composer and his associates becomes more familiar and intriguing, more central to the narrative, and there are a few notable sub-plots, which enrich and augment the picture considerably by vividly depicting the social mores and hang-ups of this artistic and academic "community".
So, not as immediately enjoyable as the other Thomas Mann novels which I have read, but an imaginative and stimulating piece of work, displaying all the hallmarks which make him such an important and powerful writer.
Doctor Faustus tells the life story of a fictional composer, Adrian Leverkuhn, through the narration of his friend Zeitbolm. The narration itself is delivered against the background of the unfolding horrors of the Second World War, allowing much scope for parallels with the time in which the events of the story actually occurred, and with the fate of Leverkuhn. The composer's fate or destiny are not blatantly employed as a direct metaphor for those of Germany, or vice-versa, but the implied comparison adds depth and lustre to the novel.
In the earlier chapters there is much musing on intellectual, cultural and socio-political matters. At first reading, these can seem like tangents or diversions, but they make sense in the end, both in terms of how the plot develops and in providing some background context on the times in which Leverkuhn, Zeitbolm and their contemporaries lived and worked. They serve too as indicators of how the composer was beginning to stand out from the crowd even in his formative years, in his outlook on life and culture.
In stating the above, I must confess to having found Doctor Faustus quite heavy going up until around the halfway point. Certainly when compared to the more "fluent" and accessible delights of The Magic Mountain and Buddenbrooks, it can feel like this one takes an inordinate amount of time to "happen". The writing style and language are more impenetrable and less flowing.The passages which abound with musical technicalities, theory and jargon may not be to everyone's taste. Concentration and persistence are required, but one is rewarded towards the conclusion, as the fog disperses.
My impression, rightly or wrongly, was that Mann (via the narrator) left the main aspects of the story, namely Leverkuhn's mental afflictions and his supposed pact with sinister supernatural forces, ever so slightly ambiguous, and up to the reader to weigh and interpret.
As with the other Thomas Mann novels which I have encountered, the characters have depth and plausibility, and the author goes to great lengths to illustrate and convey their traits and characteristics. As this story progresses, the social circle of the composer and his associates becomes more familiar and intriguing, more central to the narrative, and there are a few notable sub-plots, which enrich and augment the picture considerably by vividly depicting the social mores and hang-ups of this artistic and academic "community".
So, not as immediately enjoyable as the other Thomas Mann novels which I have read, but an imaginative and stimulating piece of work, displaying all the hallmarks which make him such an important and powerful writer.
Tuesday, 30 December 2014
Siddhartha - Hermann Hesse
About three years ago, not long after being treated for depression, I read Hermann Hesse's novel "Siddhartha", and it had a profound effect upon me. The events and philosophies detailed in the book gave me hope and encouragement, and reminded me that the world, and this life, were still beautiful and precious. Just recently I re-read "Siddhartha", as part of a tentative effort to once again "reboot" my life.
In brief, the novel follows the eponymous character on a journey of self-discovery and spiritual exploration. He craves enlightenment, but comes to recognise that this cannot be attained via the teachings of others. It has to come from within, and we must find our own path, our own truths, and that the voices come from within - the "bird in the breast".
It is not difficult to appreciate why "Siddhartha" so captured the imagination of counter-cultural circles on both sides of the Atlantic in the decades which followed World War Two. Its message of liberation from doctrine, tradition and hierarchy, of arriving "there" by ourselves, was warmly embraced by a ready audience.
The renunciation of material possessions was of course also a favoured theme of the Sixties, but Siddhartha's quest does not perhaps follow the totally ascetic and self-denying course which some might expect (and/or hope). It seems he took the view that one needs to be immersed in "real life" to see the emptiness of some parts of it. All part of the process of conquering the "self"?
It was noticeable how some aspects of the story assumed greater prominence for me just recently, and which did not loom as large when I first read "Siddhartha". One is the implication that more knowledge or learning can be imparted in one kiss or physical embrace than by slavishly studying some exalted text or tome. Events in my own personal life since 2011 have made me more receptive and empathetic to such things.
Also, Hesse mentions that a "game" can only last so long before it becomes stale and repetitive. We must have a goal, a path, a greater aim. As in all things, we need a balance, between keeping grounded and striving for a higher fulfilment.. This is something that many people, myself included, often overlook to our detriment.
Siddhartha's dreams are occasionally enlisted to convey symbolism, often to signpost the next stage in his odyssey. As in many of his stories, Hesse's language is organic, vivid but economical, evoking the vitality and the essence of life. These ingredients all help to make his work so enchanting and inspiring.
As with the many Hesse works which draw inspiration from Eastern philosophies, the themes of renewal, rebirth, cycles, the transient nature of things, and the essential harmony or "one-ness" of life and nature feature prominently here, as does a simple but profound love of all things.
Towards the end, as Siddhartha renews acquaintance with the ferryman, the river is used as a metaphor for life, being, "the moment", one's path, destiny, however we choose to interpret them. The arrival of Siddhartha's son is symbolic; the father's search coming to an end, and the offspring beginning his.
Some other important nuggets which I drew concerned the nature of time, the removal of fear and the limitations of words in expressing and explaining truth and wisdom. In time, Siddhartha came to terms with ordinary people, their preoccupations and their loves. This for me was one of the most important sub-plots, and consistent with the "unexpected" character of the journey.
Interestingly, the "lesson" which resonated with me was - don't try too hard, or you may miss something which is right in front of you. Instead, listen and be receptive....
"Siddhartha" did not have quite the same emotional impact on me this time around. This is not surprising, since it was not new to me, and I am a different person now from the one who was engrossed by it three or four years ago. However, I still found it invigorating and instructive. Recommended reading for anyone.
Thursday, 16 January 2014
Klingsor's Last Summer - Hermann Hesse
Continuing my quest to read as much Hermann Hesse as possible, I next tackled "Klingsor's Last Summer", a novella which was originally published in 1919.
The story is loosely that of the last months of Klingsor, an artist/painter who lives in Switzerland. Although the narrative does not explicitly "cover" Klingsor's death, it is "reported" in an introduction. The bulk of the text is dedicated to ruminations by the artist and his friends on subjects relating to death, fate and human existence generally.
Although "Klingsor's Last Summer" explores and encompasses familiar Hesse preoccupations, it also feels quite "surrealistic", in terms of the imagery which it evokes. At times, it was difficult to ascertain whether or not metaphor was being employed.
The Klingsor character is what we may describe as a hedonist, seemingly living live to the full, and for the moment, unconcerned by consequences, or the pressure to conform. This is in keeping with a theme common in Hesse's body of work, that is the tension between bourgeois comfort and the more freewheeling, bohemian life of the artist or creator.
My own feeling is that "Klingsor's Last Summer" is a little more chaotic and meandering than many other Hesse novels or novellas. This is partly because of the more exotic imagery and symbolism. Any central, overriding message, if indeed there is one, is difficult to discern for much of the way.
In their discussions, Klingsor and his friends debate and agonize over various matters relating to the role of the artist, and the purpose of life. They question whether people spend too much time striving to portray and depict life, rather than enjoying and savouring it for its own sake. That was my interpretation, anyway! Another old chestnut raises its head, in the form of musing on what constitutes useful and constructive employment of one's time on earth, and whether this is necessarily important.
To me, Klingsor celebrates the childlike, the frivolous, the joyful, the ephemeral. Does it matter how we obtain pleasure, satisfaction and fulfillment, as long as we do? Can one sublime moment of euphoria or exuberance compensate for the myriad mundane aspects of life?
As the book progresses, I detected a tension between traditional Western views and perceptions of life, death and Fate, and the teachings of Eastern philosophies on these subjects. Is human experience one whole, embracing both life and death, and should we fear this concept?
The attitudes held by Klingsor and some of his associates also appear to be reflective of the time during which this story was composed, that is the opening decades of the twentieth century, a period of war, upheaval and change. Pessimism and fatalism abounded.
In all honesty, I did not find this as immediately enjoyable and stimulating as much as other Hermann Hesse works, although this view was doubtless influenced by its distinctive character. It is still intriguing, and in places thought-provoking.
The story is loosely that of the last months of Klingsor, an artist/painter who lives in Switzerland. Although the narrative does not explicitly "cover" Klingsor's death, it is "reported" in an introduction. The bulk of the text is dedicated to ruminations by the artist and his friends on subjects relating to death, fate and human existence generally.
Although "Klingsor's Last Summer" explores and encompasses familiar Hesse preoccupations, it also feels quite "surrealistic", in terms of the imagery which it evokes. At times, it was difficult to ascertain whether or not metaphor was being employed.
The Klingsor character is what we may describe as a hedonist, seemingly living live to the full, and for the moment, unconcerned by consequences, or the pressure to conform. This is in keeping with a theme common in Hesse's body of work, that is the tension between bourgeois comfort and the more freewheeling, bohemian life of the artist or creator.
My own feeling is that "Klingsor's Last Summer" is a little more chaotic and meandering than many other Hesse novels or novellas. This is partly because of the more exotic imagery and symbolism. Any central, overriding message, if indeed there is one, is difficult to discern for much of the way.
In their discussions, Klingsor and his friends debate and agonize over various matters relating to the role of the artist, and the purpose of life. They question whether people spend too much time striving to portray and depict life, rather than enjoying and savouring it for its own sake. That was my interpretation, anyway! Another old chestnut raises its head, in the form of musing on what constitutes useful and constructive employment of one's time on earth, and whether this is necessarily important.
To me, Klingsor celebrates the childlike, the frivolous, the joyful, the ephemeral. Does it matter how we obtain pleasure, satisfaction and fulfillment, as long as we do? Can one sublime moment of euphoria or exuberance compensate for the myriad mundane aspects of life?
As the book progresses, I detected a tension between traditional Western views and perceptions of life, death and Fate, and the teachings of Eastern philosophies on these subjects. Is human experience one whole, embracing both life and death, and should we fear this concept?
The attitudes held by Klingsor and some of his associates also appear to be reflective of the time during which this story was composed, that is the opening decades of the twentieth century, a period of war, upheaval and change. Pessimism and fatalism abounded.
In all honesty, I did not find this as immediately enjoyable and stimulating as much as other Hermann Hesse works, although this view was doubtless influenced by its distinctive character. It is still intriguing, and in places thought-provoking.
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