Ahoy there, virgin post. The hymen 'tween my typing fingers has officially torn. I'm never been much of one for the personal blogs, although i do like to wax some b.s. introspection from time to time, I think I'd prefer to use this blog to discuss the various media that course in an out of my life: books, movies, tv, music, the usual pretentious blather that all of us technorati-hip fucks like to go on and on about.
I'm currently reading The Translator by John Crowley. 181 pages in and I like it, quite a bit, actually. The story sounds simple: young poet girl goes off to college where she meets an exiled Russian poet currently serving as a poetry professor, sparks fly, she manages to take a class in Russian, and together they translate his body of work while they possibly heat up the sheets. Describing the plot reminds me that this is NOT the type of book I usually read, not even close. However, I'm partial to John Crowley's work, and in this case his beautifully constructed prose and non-linear structure really elevate the material into a class all its own. I've lately been trying to read everything be a select few authors I've decided to be a fan of (Samuel R. Delany, Gene Wolfe, John Crowley, JG Ballard), all of whom have dabbled in the sci-fi & fantasy genre's but manage to shatter the mold of genre restrictions each in his own way. So with Crowley, i've previously read Engine Summer; Little, Big; and Aegypt... this is far and away the newest thing by him I've read seeing as it was published in '02 and all the rest are from the '80s. So far though, I'd definitely recommend it. I still think Little, Big will be the mark by which he'll forever be judged, though my tune might change when I get around to reading the other 3 volumes in the Aegypt series...
I'm currently reading The Translator by John Crowley. 181 pages in and I like it, quite a bit, actually. The story sounds simple: young poet girl goes off to college where she meets an exiled Russian poet currently serving as a poetry professor, sparks fly, she manages to take a class in Russian, and together they translate his body of work while they possibly heat up the sheets. Describing the plot reminds me that this is NOT the type of book I usually read, not even close. However, I'm partial to John Crowley's work, and in this case his beautifully constructed prose and non-linear structure really elevate the material into a class all its own. I've lately been trying to read everything be a select few authors I've decided to be a fan of (Samuel R. Delany, Gene Wolfe, John Crowley, JG Ballard), all of whom have dabbled in the sci-fi & fantasy genre's but manage to shatter the mold of genre restrictions each in his own way. So with Crowley, i've previously read Engine Summer; Little, Big; and Aegypt... this is far and away the newest thing by him I've read seeing as it was published in '02 and all the rest are from the '80s. So far though, I'd definitely recommend it. I still think Little, Big will be the mark by which he'll forever be judged, though my tune might change when I get around to reading the other 3 volumes in the Aegypt series...
The hymen 'tween my typing fingers has officially torn.
The English language is completely at your mercy. Gerunds and participles beware.