Classics Book Club of NY

As soon as I entered GMT I knew something was afoot as the clock struck half past the 25th hour to the radio broadcast a martial ban on all firearms. Even in the early October Indian summer it appeared the elms and maples were beginning to bud fresh green in defiance of the typical fall color. The walk to the restaurant was simpler than I remember, the crooked streets of the Village in a perfect grid that would make Pythagorus proud. A drunken man vomited in the alley and a pack of dogs that must have been of a fluorescent retriever breed licked the pavement clean. The fountains of Washington Square ran dry as the water was diverted to a wildfire at the farmer's market. The book club I was expecting to see greeted me briefly before engaging in a round of bets on what appeared to be an underground cockfight. The sky was purple.

What value is the truth in times like these? It seems we did not get a dedicated chance to discuss in depth Bob's (Dad's) selections of 1984 and Brave New World, perhaps the Trump administration has run the dystopian topic dry. But I encourage further online discussion. Nonetheless it was good to chat and see all those who could come: Susan, Ken, Val, Bob, Andy, Larry, Becky, Lynn, and Francine.

Couldn't have asked for a better room to discuss de Maistre's own room. Situated at a round table of eight in the Belle Epoque styling of Chez Josephine, Becky, Larry, Bob, Dennis, Ken, Ellen, Patricia, and I engaged in an interesting discussion of genius, travel, and nationalism found somehow from the world Xavier describes in this humorous story of isolation welding both travelogue and introspection. People's opinion of the book was mixed, but this "minor" classic apparently has been quite influential. I was struck by two things primarily, how stylistically close it was to Tristram Shandy (apparently intentional), and the pre-Freudian cognitive dissonance between the "soul" and the "beast" (a lot of time could be spent on the couch discussing that dichotomy). Otherwise was it simply an exercise to simply quell the boredom of house arrest? In any case I think this book has a special place in prison libraries everywhere (spoken facetiously). Thank you for this interesting choice Ellen.

Andy, Larry, Bob, Louise, Ellen, Becky, Carey, Patricia, Lynn, Ken, and I, spent an April March Madness Monday at Freud's (where the spatzle and strudel were especially good) to discuss Bronx native, and Fordham educated Don Delillo's sensation White Noise, a book that while conceived in the 80's seems of increased relevance in these times of uncertain authority. How is it that a book whose lead character is a professor of Hitler, where the main circumstances surround an Airborne Toxic Event, and where the conclusion is a murder gone good can seem so normal? In psychology there is a phenomenon called the "Fundamental Attribution Error" recognizing the human condition is less the result of character and more a result of situation - and what a situation DeLillo presents. But at the same time the novel is in a large part a consequence of human behavior extended to its worst, a backsplash of consumerism, envy, and violence. What does it say that academia can be presented as a populist folly, while the children in the story come off as the most well off and un-adjusted? And somehow in this fatal pharmacological filler the book maintains a biting sense of humor.

Evidently a majority of us were not able to attend tonight's meeting. But the electorate few, if you will, that were able to make it (Larry, Carey, Louise, Patricia, Ken and myself) enjoyed a pleasant night with our gracious host/selector Lynn discussing the Yacoubian Building. Maybe not a "classic" by all accounts, but it was agreed the book was well written, the characters well developed, the description quite visceral, and the storyline well integrated. Central to the plot was the effect of government, religion, and ideology mixed with everyday interaction involving this motley crew of building occupants. I would argue none of the characters were heroic, and there was no overarching message to the book in a singular sense, but it's strength was to offer a realist perspective and an authentic depiction of life as it were. Despite the mixed fates of the protagonists, there was, as Carey concluded, a positivity in the sense that everyone went on with their lives in a manner that could not be possible without an inherent hope.

From Larry:

Eight of us (Alice, Becky, Ellen, Francine, Ken, Denny, Andy and Larry) met at Wilfie and Nell to discuss Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. Enthusiasm for the book was mixed. At one end was the feeling that it lacked a plot and interesting characters and on the other was the idea that the Heart of Darkness exists in each of us. There was talk of the White Man's burden - the obligation for white European civilization to bring modernity and a civilized life to the inferior races of the south. There was mention of the arrogance of imposing our 21st century mores on a book written in an entirely different time. The similarity to Moby Dick . Little light was shed on Heart of Darkness and so to quote Kurtz: "The horror. The horror."

From Ken:

Some of the other more strongly expressed interpretations included: Alice - there was no reasonable motivation expressed for Marlow's abrupt attitudinal change towards Kurtz; the book was too abstract; there was no substantive philosophical points offered;

Becky - Marlow's deception towards the Intended at the end of the book was more an act of kindness than an expression of any part of a Heart of Darkness.

From Eric:

I wish I was able to make it down to the meeting, it sounds like there was a very dynamic discussion. I read the book (or what seemed like a very short story after War and Peace). Overall I had mixed feelings. I found most of it directionless description, although as the story went on it did find its way to a climax represented by the unveiling of the enigmatic Kurtz who in his own right represented much more - colonialism, capitalism, and European hegemony. Like Melville and the whale, Conrad seized upon the mystery of the Dark Continent and brought it to light in a singular mission in an attempt to find the ghost in the machine. Like Genesis, there was a strong theme of forbidden knowledge, the notion that digging into dirt you just get dirty. In any case I will have to watch Apocalypse Now again. Looking forward to the next book.

10 of us, Francine, Dennis, Becky, Larry, Alice, Andy, Ken, Lynn, and Louise and I met at Lynn's house this evening to discuss War and Peace (or what I'd to call "How I learned to love the Russian Dream"). My knee jerk reaction is the say the book is an overrated, overlong cobbling of a formulaic plot veiled in half-baked political philosophy. But that is primarily only because it is fun to say that. To be fair it is a story of ambitious scope, aiming to weave a meticulous military history with probing social context that pushes the envelope of the novel format. Not quite Dostoyevsty (according to Dostoyevsky), it lacks the deep psychological insight in favor of courser descriptive brushstrokes. The general consensus seemed to acknowledge the book's importance short of calling it a favorite. It was noted that translation may also significantly affect its interpretation. Alice was impressed with Tolstoy at his best, Dennis vouched for it's interpretation historically, and Ken noted Tolstoy's pathology in terms of family affairs and societal position, just to mention a few of the reactions shared. I thank Ken for choosing a book that I may otherwise not have the ambition to read myself.

Ten of us made it out on this frigid night to the Chinese favorite Legend to discuss Becky's choice, The Good Earth by Pearl Buck: Dennis, Susan, Larry, Becky, Alice, Francine, Andy, Ken, Lynn and myself. By starting these minutes in such standard form I worry that I'm catering to the aesthetic form of conventional style and should perhaps be more subversive. Andy made an interesting point earlier today that notions of "whiteness" are a mark of class more than race in China (sunburnt farmers vs pale intellectual), but perhaps this distinction is somehow at the root of classic black/white racism? More broadly though, The Good Earth is a book very much rooted largely in ethics, giving a factual account of the arc of Wang Lung's life as anchored in his universally acceptable belief in the power of the land, to the point that perhaps his moral compass was attached to that, and without it, his children in some aspects ran astray. At the meeting plotlessness and formularity was raised, but I think what brought this book most to life was that the lusts for sex, money, blood, and power were expressed both in a candid and empirical way. Thanks Becky for this choice.

At risk of omitting someone I will state Ellen, Patricia, Carey, Alice, Lynn, Andy, Larry, Becky, Susan, Dennis, Ken and I met last night 48 floors up the Empire State Building - a long way from Maycomb. Whatever you think of the quality of the selected novels I at least felt they offered a touchstone into our own personal relationships with family, child relationships, memory of hometown, and how they can change as we grow wise to the world. While Mario was absent he is certainly not forgotten and it was nice for Susan to attend.

Seven of us, Alice, Larry, Becky, Ellen, Andy, Ken and I got Shandied (does that make any sense at all?) this evening discussing Laurence Sterne's seminal work. The general consensus seemed that the book was enjoyed on some level at some time by most of us. We all seemed to appreciate the originality in its humor and digressions, combining a characteristic wit of both imitation and genius transcending established novel form. The topic of humor was addressed, its essence, the degree to which it is an respected form of expression, and how eras and cultures are unique in this regard (to wit Ken's experiences at arrow point with native New Guineans).

In memory of Mario Ligorio

Ivanhoe

There are some books, Hemingway's for example, that assault the reader with epic human experience, in contrast there is The Sound and the Fury - some of which is literally a tale told by an idiot. Somewhere in between lies Le Grande Meaulnes, a story that both contains youthful fantasy and confrontation of the basic human hardships of love and death. Nine of us tonight met to share our experience with this experience at the thankfully quiet and contained La Lunchonette - Yolan, Andy, Dennis, Becky, Larry, Ken, Alice, Patricia, and myself. Of course novels can have an effect on us, but the reverse is also true that our lives bring something to the novel. Fournier's story, a French student staple is poised to offer that contrast, being something often read in youth to be discovered again later. No doubt the prose was elegantly descriptive if not the arc of the story seamless and balanced. But it also could be said the storyline, which had the potential to be ripe with detailed psychological and sexual drama rarely offered that depth and nuance. But nonetheless the book proved to be an important work that ushered in a style of storytelling evident in other classics such as The Great Gatsby and The Catcher in the Rye. Thanks Andy for the selection.

Nothing quite like the bright, gaudy florescent lights of the late MetroNorth train when ruminating over a book club meeting to feel both exhausted and wired in one surreal haze. Seven of us, Patricia, Andy, Bob, Alice, Larry, Ken, and myself were able to make it to Ilili, a fashionable, upbeat, maybe a little too loud venue to discuss seven books from the old and new testament (Genesis, Ecclesiaties, Job, Song of Songs, Mark, Romans, and Revelations). "Ilili" as our Bulgarian waiter described to us means "tell me" in Lebanese. I like to imagine Jesus using that exact phrase in his conversation with his "godfather". In any case it is amazing to me how a book like the bible, which one could say is really a set of poorly sourced documents somehow has become the bedrock of so many people's beliefs and lives. But as far as our conversation went, the views were fairly objective. Our table was a divided one, 4 Catholics and 3 Jews of various levels of practiction. We touched on most of the core issues such as faith, tradition, historical validity, and interpretations running the spectrum from "word of god" to interpretive parable. For me at least, the dual realities of fearing god and having faith in god - a beacon of light out of the dark inclinations of daily life, is powerful one that has served generations of people from what could otherwise be despair.

Last night nine of us, Andy, Randy, Ken, Larry, Alice, Patricia, Ellen, Lynn, and I met within the appreciatively listenable confines of the modern/southern Sarabeth restaurant to discuss Patricia's choice "The Known World" the Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Edward Jones. The title is perhaps evocative of the possibility that perspective may have offered an escape from the social tolerance of such a reviling institution. Or perhaps it alludes to the irony that even the reality of black on black human ownership did not even temper its existence. It seemed the general consensus of the group was positive - at worst it was a gimmick with an overly violent plot twist that left many characters unresolved. At best it was a well written fictional historic narrative weaving the lives of its many protagonists into a story of compelling matter of fact description.

From Ken:

Alice, Ellen, Larry, Lynn, Patricia, Randy and I met to discuss Randy's choice, Othello, at The Shakespeare, an eponymous pub with noise levels that, though somewhat uncomfortable, did not inhibit a single discussion involving all, sitting at an L –shaped table.

Some topics discussed, generally without discernable resolution, included the importance of the black Moor to the drama; whether the play is a tragedy; the heroic quality of Othello, the man, as someone to identify with at the beginning or the end; the extent each person had love for his or her pairing; the important role of sex (ah, yes!); whether Emilia's role with the handkerchief destroys her moral beauty and dignity; potential examples of other literary masterpieces with an unalloyed, incarnate evil character to match Iago; Iago's weaknesses; what, if anything, is known about William Shakespeare or his physical appearance, etc.

In memory of Stan Schneider

From Ken:

I must try in this summary, like Sisyphus, to second-seat Eric who was not able to attend the meeting yesterday. Carey, Alice, Lynn, Andy, Larry and I joined at a quiet Jackson Diner in a single animated discussion throughout of "A Passage to India,' E.M. Forster, Indian and British cultures, and diverse other subjects. All quite liked the book. Some themes of discussion: whether the characterization presented in this book was inferior to Forster's earlier book we read, "Howard's End"; that Forster may have had nothing positive to say about either culture or any person; the alleged profound philosophical and sociological benefits of treating as sacred, the cow; the extent that British colonization may have been, from its beginning, largely intended to help itself more than India; the stench, harassment of women and demeaning treatment of life exhibited by modern-day India; the mysterious symbolism of echos; the complicated treatment of Mrs. Moore; how this book compared to our last book touching on colonization, "A Bend in the River," etc.

Nine of us met last night on this humid 9/11 at Ponty Bistro to discuss Bob's (aka my Dad's) choice a Bend in the River. Seems opinions were the most mixed of any book I can remember us reading, from Patricia who vowed never to read Naipul again, to Ken who thought the book lacked cohesion and plot development to myself Andy and others who thought it was a good read touching on important subjects. Personally I thought of Bend in the River as a coming of age story about a person coming to the realization that his colonial world wasn't made for him but to exploit him. It was interesting how he told this, contrasting the well defined time and space of London with the abstract river locale somewhere in Africa (speculation about the Congo region?). The forces at play in the book were largely negative, but I think that is the point - that to Salim, the positive is simply an illusionary veil of oppression. I was somewhat shocked to learn of how reviled Naipul is considered as a person to many, and it seems that his antipathy to women and sentimentality is rooted in how useless they seem to him in the struggles he attempts to undertake. But perhaps what I'll remember best about this book is the ending description - a send off into the thousands of white lights signifying hope, death and the inevitable entropy of the infinite.

Last night nine of us met at Tir Na Nog to discuss Ellen's choice of Elizabeth Bowen's Death of the Heart. Must say the meeting had a remarkable middle school vibe, felt like I was sitting at the boy's end of the table barely catching the girl's chatter at the other side of the table as I remember it from so many years ago. But in focusing on the people in the book, I think what was most striking was how the characters hung together with ambivalance, empty affections, and selfish intentions. These characters were in such need of authentic connection that the diary of Portia became the foundation for their affairs. Where meaning and gospel was needed, all that existed was the intrigue of a naive teenager, a manifestation of their unfulfilled lives.

Last night on the train ride home I wrote out some notes of what to email this group about regarding our meeting. One of the first things I thought worth mentioning was the issue of race and that it never came up as far as I remember in our discussion (are we a post racial group?). In seeing Andy's post this morning I see he too had a similar impression. But the most inescapable theme in this novel is Texas, the name of the book refers to it and the dialogue peppered with character's allusions to this identity. I wonder if race and Texas are two sides to the same coin, that is thinking of one's self as part of a group bigger than ones's self for what it's worth whether positive or negative. I thought the ending was powerful in that in a sense it kind of transcends race and shows a family trying to stick together.

In anycase it was nice to meet last night. We had a small corner round table where the 7 of us Andy,Ellen,Francine,Ken, Alice,Lynn, and myself could actually hear ourselves fairly well. I thought the food was pretty good too.

from Ken:

Eric and I saw the musical version of "Giant" this weekend at the Joseph Papp Public Theater, the day before it closed, after a successful run. It gives me an added incentive to read the book. I don't yet know, of course, to what extent the musical followed the book, but I assume there are major divergences made necessary by the different medium.

On the downside, the sexual reprobate/oil mogul, Jett Rink, was somewhat monochromatic. His presence and character didn't flow in ways that I hope it does in the book. He never consummates a sexual relationship; he just shows he's always willing. The musical's plot and ideas were not well concluded or put together, I thought – the ending is unfulfilling by my lights. Again, the book may avoid that problem, we'll see. I don't yet see why the book was named, "Giant."

Finally, the musical caused me to think too often that the focus on the traditional, all-important, over-reaching, unchanging value of land in Texas was in some respects a re-worked version of Tara, in the State of Georgia, in Gone with the Wind.

The upside mostly had to do with the non-literary interest: the performers were fine; the music pleasant, though not grand. The plot hinted at potential intellectual heft, even if it never reached that level. Still, it was an enjoyable three hours of musical theater. I look forward to more hours spent in reading the novel.