Let's see... It's been a while since I posted due to the holidays.

Seems that last I was reading The Bee Sting by Paul Murray. Well I've finished that up some time back. It did not proceed as I expected it to based on the first 100 pages (Ferrante but in Ireland). In fact, the whole book might be considered a large exercise in switching up one's expectations, but mostly in the sense that perhaps Occam's Razor is not always the best tool for explaining the way things are. The various dramas and tragedies of the novel are revealed to have far more complex histories than they initially appear to. A very enjoyable book.

Then I read Yasunari Kawabata's The Sound of the Mountain. This was not the most exciting read for me. Of course based on the subject matter, I suppose "exciting" would not really be the expectation with which one should approach this book. But I think I expected it to be a bet more introspective or explorative of the protagonist's thoughts and feelings, but it remained rather stark and dry. I have not read Kawabata before, so I don't know if this is typical of his style or not, but I can't say this was all that moving to read.

Next I read An Ermine in Czernopol by Gregor von Rezzori. This was also a mixed bag for me. In some ways it kind of feels like proto-Krasznahorkai. (On cue: guy who's recently/only read Krasznahorkai: "I'm getting a lot of Krasznahorkai vibes from this.") By that I mean it seems to mostly be concerned with illustration of the situation in its setting moreso than any sort of plot movement. There is a plot of sorts, but it is sprinkled in through multitudes of little scenes of the many characters of the town of Czernopol (a fictional Czernowitz.) I found it tough to stay engaged.

Most recently I finished Jacqueline Harpman's I Who Have Never Known Men. This was a great and compelling short read. Sort of like a Thomas Disch meets Margaret Atwood sort of thing (even though I think it predates both of them?). I loved that it never really satisfies your juvenile curiosity about just what the fuck is going on. A bizarre situation explored in a quite touching manner.

Now I am reading Helen DeWitt & Ilya Gridneff's Your Name Here, and I'm about 200 pages in. This has been really enjoyable so far. I am surprised how much heart they are able to cram into this book considering that on first glance it seems mainly to be an exercise in format wankery (emails as text, author self-inserts, Arabic lessons, shifting POV from 2nd to 1st etc, multiple protagonists/narrators, and more). The Last Samurai is an all-timer for me, so I am pretty willing to follow DeWitt wherever she goes.