A Strangeness in My Mind, books in translation, Chantal Akerman, Elena Ferrante, Emily Brontë, Ernest Hemingway, Karl Ove Knausgaard, Lucy Treloar, Neil Strauss, Orhan Pamuk, Salt Creek, The Game, Vladimir Nabokov, Wuthering Heights
If you’re anything like me, at all times you’ll have about twenty browser windows open across the top of your computer screen. Occasionally, I do an archive, which means copy and pasting the urls into a Word document. Which is like a ‘bookmarking to read later’ action that usually doesn’t result in me reading any of them.
For a while I’ve been thinking I should use them as posts here, so today’s the day that I show you what I’ve come across in my browsing, because let’s face it, we’re all doing it, probably far too much and far too lasciviously. I mean all that information, just out there, ready to be found.
I’m going back to the beginning of my links list and here are the first seven*:
At a time when Turkey’s dramatic news cycle is dominating international headlines, the country’s Nobel laureate has written a novel about a street vendor.
Anyone who knows me even a little, knows I am nuts about Orhan Pamuk, probably Turkey’s greatest living writer. This is an article about his then new, upcoming book A Strangeness in My Mind, which I read as an ARC because my daughter was working in a book shop, they gave it to her and she brought it home and placed it firmly in her mama’s loving arms. (It strikes me that Pamuk’s works have become more readable over time. I wonder about that…)
I have this link but obviously I didn’t click on that day’s post to make sure I could navigate back to the original thing that caught my eye. Anyway, it’s a great blog so why not work backwards?
Oh. Neil Strauss is next. I read his The Game years ago – god knows why – and back then it was an offensive yet fascinating read (he shared a house with Courtney Love!) but not the extremely misogynistic and violent thing that the male pick-up ‘artistry’ movement is today. In his book, Strauss covers strategies like negging and wingmanning but I don’t remember anything about walking a woman up to a wall and choking her, or laying hands on her without her consent. Anyway… this link is to an article about HOW NEIL STRAUSS GOT MARRIED AND IS A CHANGED MAN.
Sorry about the headline of this one, but it’s about filmmaker Chantal Akerman’s death, and I obviously googled her, or followed a link from facebook or twitter, because people were talking about her, and her films, saying how wonderful they are, and it made me think I needed to explore.
Okay. So, because I’m not editing links, this is where you get to see that I’ve been a bit stalky. COME ON, WE ALL DO IT. I obviously looked up Lucy Treloar’s page of events, or maybe followed a link (less stalky). I really liked Lucy’s book Salt Creek, and think it deserving of any and all accolades. I also met Lucy for a couple of coffees at Mr Tulk at SLV and she is SO NICE and it was good to chat about books and the world, and I look forward to seeing her again.
I am toying with the idea of a PhD but when I think about it, and I am quite a lot at the moment, which is funny cause I don’t really have time to think about it, let alone do one, but I’m pondering who or what would be my focus (I’d want to do it in literature, not education and not creative writing), and it is a very short list: Nabokov, Hemingway, or Emily Brontë and her Wuthering Heights.
I am fascinated with all three of them: Nabokov for his writing and his brain; Hemingway for his misunderstood domestic life (that could be the thesis question right there), and Brontë for her magnificent, enduring novel (and there’s another adaptation to film on the way. By a director who first read the novel at six. Right.)
The other thing I’m kind of interested in is works in translation. I’m about to finish Knausgaard’s fifth volume in his My Struggle cycle, and have read some Ferrante (my mother has read them all and thinks the translation of Ferrante is poor at times; I was enjoying and will get back to the books), but here is an article written by Nabokov in 1941, about the ‘sins’ of translation.
* Why seven? Because I want to be snappy, also SEVEN is a significant number in terms of my third book.