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Saturday, 27 August 2022
>> Read all Stella's reviews. | |
Worn: A people's history of clothing by Sofi Thanhauser {Reviewed by STELLA} Worn is a wide-ranging and compelling look at clothing and textiles through the lens of five fabrics: linen, cotton, silk, synthetics and wool. Thanhasuer explores the social, economic, and environmental impacts of one of our most intimate possessions. A material culture history that reveals global links, as well as personal stories and our desire for clothes from ancient to contemporary times. As a maker of objects and a lover of clothes and their construction, with a good dose of interest in history and the social fabric that binds people and things, I loved this book. Each page revealed another fascinating detail in the history of clothing and the people who were engaged in the planting and harvesting of plants, in the processes — natural or chemical — and manufacture of fibre and the twisting, weaving or whatever other method imaginable to make fabric and then those textiles into the clothes we wore (and wear), through necessity and desire. Whether it is the arrival of the ‘season’ as denoted by the French court of Loius XIV or the rise of the factory workers in New York city fueled by the influence of young educated Jewish migrant women or the appalling treatment of workers in the American South, historically (slave and cheap labour) and today (illegal migrants) or the environmental impact of over-production of cotton in both America and China to the detriment of the land, the people and water reserves, you will find something in Thanhuaser's explorations that will surprise, intrigue and pique your curiosity about our relationship with what we wear and the origins of this relationship. The crafting of this book makes the vessel filled with so many facts, geopolitical analysis, fine details, expansive timeframes, technological advances, rich personal stories and empathetic observation, a pleasure to read. The decision by Thanhauser to tell this story through the lens of the five fabrics and the focus on particular (historical as well as contemporary) individuals — its people — makes Worn a lively, empathetic and engaging cultural history. |
>> Read all Thomas's reviews. | |
Autoportrait by Édouard Levé {Reviewed by THOMAS} “I am inexhaustible on the subject of myself,” states Édouard Levé in this book which is nothing less than an attempt to exhaust everything that he can think of to say about himself, no matter how banal or embarrassing, with relentless objectivity. In one long string of seemingly random declarative statements without style or development or form (other than the form of the list, if a list can be said to be a form), the details accumulate with very fine grain, but the effect is disconcerting: the author comes no closer to exhausting his observations, and the idea that there is such a thing as a 'person' beyond the details seems more and more implausible. The list is not so much an accumulation as an obliteration: facts obscure that which they purport to represent. “I dream of an objective prose, but there is no such thing.” Levé’s style is deliberately and perfectly and admirably flat throughout (all perfect things should be admired (whatever that means)), like that of a police report. “I try to write prose that will be changed neither by translation nor by the passage of time.” The constructions often feel aphoristic but eschew the pretension of aphorisms to refer to anything other than the particulars of which they are constructed. There is no lens formed by these sentences to ‘see through’, no insight, no intimation of personality other than the jumbled bundling of details and tendencies assembled under the author’s name, no ‘self’ that expresses itself through these details or is approachable through these details, because we are none of us persons other than what we for convenience or comfort (or, rather, out of frustration and fear) bundle conceptually, mostly haphazardly, and treat as an entity or ‘person’. The more fact is compounded (or, rather, facts are compounded), the stronger the intimation that any attempt to exhaust the description of a person will never be approach we usually think of as a person. “If I look in mirrors for long enough, a moment comes when my face stops meaning anything.” As well as demonstrating the impossibility of the task which it attempts, description also cancels itself by implying for each positive statement a complementary negative statement. Each statement of the self-description of Édouard Levé functions to include those of us among his readers who are similar and to exclude those who are dissimilar. We find each statement either in accord or in disagreement with a statement we could similarly (or dissimilarly) make about ourselves. The reader is charted in the text as much as the author. The reader is continually comparing themselves to the author, finding accord or otherwise, exercising the kind of judgement concealed beneath all social interaction but typically hidden by content and mutuality. In Autoportrait, the author’s self-obsession is matched by our fascination with him, with the kinds of details that may or may not come to light in social interchange. Because the author is not aware of us and is not reciprocally interested in us, or feigning reciprocal interest in us, as would be the case in ‘real life’ social interaction, we feel no shame in our fascination, our fascination is dispassionate, clinical. He is likewise unaffected by our interest or otherwise in him. But as well as bundling together an open set of details that we may conveniently think of as facts (“Everything I write is true, but so what?”) about Édouard Levé (or ‘Édouard Levé’), the text also conjures an inverse Édouard Levé (or ‘Édouard Levé’) who is the opposite to him in every way, the person who nullifies him (in the way that all statements call into being their simple or compound opposites, their nullifiers). Levé’s obsession with identity, facsimile and the corrosive effects of representation reappear throughout the book, and towards the end he mentions the suicide of a friend from adolescence, which would form the basis for Levé’s final book, Suicide (after which Levé himself committed suicide). Édouard Levé was born on the same day as me, but on the other side of the planet. In Autoportrait he writes, “As a child I was convinced that I had a double on this earth, he and I were born on the same day, he had the same body, the same feelings I did, but not the same parents or the same background, for he lived on the other side of the planet, I knew that there was very little chance that I would meet him, but still I believed that this miracle would occur.” We never met. |
NEW RELEASES
The Wall by Marlen Haushofer (translated by Shaun Whiteside) $40A woman goes to the Austrian mountains to spend a few days in a hunting lodge with her cousin and his wife. When the couple fail to return from a walk, the woman tries to go into the village to look for them. Instead she comes across a transparent wall behind which there seems to be no life. Trapped behind the wall, a result of a too successful military experiment, she begins the arduous work of not only survival but self-renewal. The Wall is at once a simple document of potatoes and beans, of hoping for a calf, of counting matches, of forgetting the taste of sugar and the use of one's name, and simultaneously a disturbing meditation on our place in the natural world.
"The Wall is a novel that contrives to be, by turns, utopian and dystopian, an idyll and a nightmare. In her isolation behind the wall, together with her animals, the woman discovers a new life, in comparison with which her existence before she came to the mountains seems trivial and pointless. The natural world which it describes with such rapt attention is cupped in the larger receptacle of a vivid and sinister dream, a dream we seem to have had many times before and which on each retelling leads to the same scene of horror at its climax." —Nicholas Spice, London Review of Books
"It is about our reasons for living, self-sufficiency, solitude, men, women, war, and love, and the problem of other minds. And the animals in this book-oh! I don't understand why this book is not considered one of the most important books of the twentieth century. I have been anxiously pushing it on everyone I know, and now I push it on you." —Sheila Heti, The Paris Review
>>Claire Louise Bennett on The Wall.
>>Read Thomas's review.
Down with the Poor! by Shumona Sinha (translated by Teresa Lavender Fagan) $34
Over the course of a night in police custody, a young woman tries to understand the rage that led her to assault a refugee on the Paris metro. She too is a foreigner, now earning a living as an interpreter for asylum seekers in the outskirts of the city. Translating the stories of men and women who come from her country of birth, into the language of her country of citizenship, Sinha’s narrator finds herself caught up in a tangle of lies and truths.
"A provocative and visceral book about class, caste, fear and self-loathing, exposing the real generational damage Imperialism wreaks on brown minds. Shumona Sinha gets inside the skin of an everyday woman turned monster by the system: her voice grips the imagination and does not let go." —Preti TanejaJumping Sundays: The rise and fall of the counterculture in Aotearoa New Zealand by Nick Bollinger $50
>>The liberation of Albert Park.
The Opposite of a Person by Lieke Marsman (translated by Sophie Collins) $23
>>The essay, the object, and the re-mix.
The Dangerous Journey by Tove Jansson (translated by Sophie Hannah) $29
>>Have a look inside the book!
Bear Woman by Karolina Ramqvist (translated by Saskia Vogel) $37>>Navigating the silences of women's history.
>>Long-listed for the 2022 Booker Prize.
Friday, 26 August 2022
Whether we read poetry or write it, our Book of the Week is the perfect inducement to both broaden and deepen our engagement. In Actions & Travels: How poetry works, Anna Jackson leads us to consider simplicity and resonance, imagery and form, letters and odes — and much more — and provides insightful readings of 100 poems of all sorts and all eras to show us how to get the most out of words — our own or someone else's.
>>Openings rather than closures.
>>Unpacking.
>>Read an extract.
>>You don't need research to read poetry.
>>Beyond a joke.
>>Anna Jackson's reading lists.
>>Your Actions & Travels.
>>Browse our poetry section (order 2 or more poetry books and get free delivery (offer ends 29.18)).
Friday, 19 August 2022
>> Read all Stella's reviews. | |
Diary of a Void by Emi Yagi (translated by Lucy North and David Boyd) {Reviewed by STELLA} A charming if somewhat absurd novel about office life and maternity expectations in contemporary Japan. Ms Shibata, a thirty-something office worker, is tired of working for a manufacturer of cardboard cores (yes, really!) for paper products. Mostly she’s fed up with the expectation from her predominantly male colleagues that she will empty the rubbish bins, fill the photocopier with paper, empty the ashtrays and wash the coffee cups. So one day she feigns pregnancy to get out of cleaning up after a meeting. Claiming it’s making her feel nauseous, she suddenly finds herself off the hook from these menial tasks, which now fall to the male office junior who has recently started at the company. There’s a problem though — she has to keep up the pretence. And so she does. This is a hilarious tale of subterfuge, interspersed with a surprisingly sharp analysis of impending motherhood, as well as the interest (sometimes intrusive) that being pregnant in the workplace, and, by extension, society, garners for women. Even though she will be a single mother, there is no stigma — more a sense of concern and care. The drawback to pretending to be pregnant is the attention, a different set of expectations, she draws from her office colleagues — some of them, well, one, in particular, are too keen on advice and suggestions of names. On the other hand, she now gets to knock off at 5 pm — a big advantage in the 'long-hours office' world she inhabits: others do the extra tasks and she gets to go to free aerobic classes. There’s a special tag for her bag indicating her status to the world at large, which entitles her to a seat on the train and more consideration as now she’s contributing to the future generation. And, if she pulls it off, there’s a year’s maternity leave — without the overtime: it will be a bit tight but a good budget will ensure it’s enough. Though this is hardly Ms Shibata’s game — there’s no intention of swindling. There’s no plan. In fact, you get the distinct impression that this woman is adrift in a large city, anonymous and ground down by a dull job with few prospects. She’s lonely. The expectant mothers’ fitness class gives her a sense of community, but, of course, she’s also adrift here — not really one of the clan. As she reaches ‘full term’ — she’s been eating for two and stuffing her clothes — there are small moments where she’s so convincing that she’s almost convinced herself. Ms Shibata is in phantom pregnancy territory — it has her slightly derailed, and for a moment the reader worries for her sanity. Emi Yagi's Diary of a Void cleverly takes the concept of time and recording a pregnancy (every expectant mother in Japan is given a government-regulation handbook similar to our Plunket book) to an extreme level — a diary of nothing — in an attempt to highlight the double standards of office culture and the role of motherhood in Japan. Entertaining, ironic and surprisingly endearing. |
>> Read all Thomas's reviews. | |
Multiple Choice by Alejandro Zambra (translated by Megan McDowell) {Reviewed by THOMAS} If texts are not completed until they are read, and if the realisation of those texts is largely dependent upon the contexts in which they are read, each reading becomes a test, both of the text and of the reader (the author by this time having taken refuge in the past (a state indistinguishable from death)). In Zambra's clever, ironic and poignant book, a series of increasingly lengthy texts are presented with accompanying multi-choice questions (modelled on the Chilean Academic Aptitude test, a multi-choice university entrance examination [!]) which demand that the reader insert, exclude, suppress, complete or 'interpret' elements of the text. Any provision of choice combined with the restriction to set choices and the impulsion to choose is not only a way of assessing an aspirant but a way of moulding that aspirant's thinking into categories set by whatever is the relevant authority. This thought-moulding, the reader's constant awareness while reading that they will be judged and categorised but not knowing for what, the constant possibility that one's experience may have aspects of it erased or re-ordered by agents of authority (with whom even the reader may be complicit under unforeseen circumstances) but not knowing in advance which aspects these may be have especial resonance with the Chilean dictatorship in which Zambra grew up, but are always all about us for, after all, is not the erasure or addition of detail concerning the past (and these stories are all written in the past tense) an inescapable part of the tussle for reality that takes place constantly all around us at all levels, personal, interpersonal, historical, political? The book is also 'about' writing stories: how does the inclusion, exclusion and ordering of detail affect the reader's understanding of and response to a text? These are considerations a writer is constantly, dauntingly faced with and which they usually in the first instance answer from their own experience as a reader (in this case the author is incapable of benefitting from criticism by being embedded in the past (a state indistinguishable from death) but has made himself immune to judgement by allowing for all possibilities and committing himself to none (or at least seemingly: is this political prevarication or subversive smokescreen?). As well as being 'about' all these sorts of things, the book is fun and funny, and it can also be read with enjoyment on the level of the spectacle. |
NEW RELEASES
Thirty-four-year-old Ms Shibata works for a company manufacturing cardboard tubes and paper cores in Tokyo. Her job is relatively secure: she's a full-time employee, and the company has a better reputation than her previous workplace, where she was subject to sexual harassment by clients and colleagues. But the job requires working overtime almost every day. Most frustratingly, as the only woman, there's the unspoken expectation that Ms Shibata will handle all the menial chores: serving coffee during meetings, cleaning the kitchenette, coordinating all the gifts sent to the company, emptying the bins. One day, exasperated and fed up, Ms Shibata announces that she can't clear away her colleagues' dirty cups, because she's pregnant. She isn't. But her 'news' brings results: a sudden change in the way she's treated. Immediately a new life begins. How long can she sustain this deception?
"Diary of a Void advances one of the most passionate cases I've ever read for female interiority, for women's creative pulse and rich inner life." —The New Yorker
Recently unearthed from the ground, Marble leaves her new lover in Copenhagen and travels to Athens. The city is overflowing with colour, steam and fragrance, cats cry like babies at night, the economic crisis is raging. In this volatile landscape, Marble grasps the world by exploring its immediate surfaces. Capturing specks of colour on ancient sculptures in the Acropolis Museum with an infrared camera, she simultaneously traces the pioneering sculptor Anne Marie Carl-Nielsen, who spent several months in the same place 110 years earlier. Far away from her husband and children, Carl-Nielsen showed that Archaic sculptures were originally painted in bright colours — a feat which meant defying Victorian gender roles and jeopardising her marriage. Marble is a galvanizing novel about the materials life is made of, about korai and sponge diving, about looking and looking again.
>>Read Thomas's review.
>>My Dinner with André.