I don't know how that didn't hit your DNF. The examples almost put me to sleep. I know modern literature can be a chore, but I recommend Theo of Golden. Not because everyone else does, but because of what it is. You can tell it is the gentlema's first novel and that it was originally self published. I can take a little bit of head hopping. The characters, while not fully fleshed, are great and there's an emotionally resonance that carries through.
The mention of Horbiger was to let certain customers know that he's read Morning of the Magicians. No story to tell? Obscure references are a perfectly acceptable substitute.
Thanks for going to the trouble of reading this slop.How did you ever get through it? Really. I couldn't get through the examples. Who reads this stuff?
I love your reviews you've saved me from reading a lot of terrible fiction, and this one made me laugh out loud. Especially this line, "Lerner makes no attempt to differentiate between the distinct souls of his characters, nor does he seem to comprehend that there are people in the universe who aren’t Ben Lerner." 😭😭 But I think that pretty accurately describes modern man, not just modern authors...
Dude you’re so funny. I don’t know if you mean to come off that way but I swear you’re a comedian at heart. It’s always such a pleasure to read your work😂
Oh, so it was this book you were referencing in the note! I remember reading a bit of it a while after it got published. (IIRC, it was right before COVID.) It was a DNF for me: I remember the word choice left me unable to connect with the characters or get into the story as much as I hoped I would. Your complaints about the writing style match my own: Too detached, too emotionless, too void of any avenue for understanding any overall feeling. After looking back now on some of the praise people heaped on this book, I was confused. "The most talented writer of his generation?" "A high-water mark in American fiction?" I'm not so sure about that.
I was somewhat disappointed that I couldn't finish this novel. I feel I should have: I figure I align with (or at least close to) Lerner on the left-right political spectrum, the ideas it sought to communicate intrigued me, and I thought that it was rather evocative of the current moment. However, the bloated and self-important style turned me off, and I figured there were other writers to whom I could turn my attention. Unfortunately, 2020 was not a year I spent doing much reading, although I had a Kindle and plenty of time with which to do so. Depression strikes at the damnedest times.
No worries! I was just responding to it and the site refreshed; I thought I had clicked something by mistake!
(The "short" version of what was going to be my reply: I have been thinking about the current situation regarding contemporary fiction, based on Liza's writing, continued comments from its critics, and chatting with my friends in the humanities. I think the greatest issue is that authors focus more on writing for the current moment and in a voice that they think might appeal to the average reader (which often reads like a jagged train of thought) than on the bigger issues and ideas to which readers - and humans - can connect. Hence why many contemporary novels feel weaker, and hence why they feel dated in the years - or sometimes months - after they hit the shelves.)
There is a spirit of whinging about this post that seems to say more about the writer's failure to attain market traction than actual literary insight. Example: Ms. Libes complains about the protagonists failure to react appropriately in the presence of a Duccio "Madonna and Child". That's the point of the author's narrative. From the NYT review of the same novel: "And when he sees a fellow museumgoer moved literally to tears by Roger van Der Weyden’s “Descent From the Cross,” his own reflections point less to reverence than to doubt. “I had long worried that I was incapable of having a profound experience of art,” Adam admits, and “was intensely suspicious of people who claimed a poem or painting or piece of music ‘changed their life’ … the closest I’d come to having a profound experience of art was probably … a profound experience of the absence of profundity.”
The author is establishing shallowness on the part of the viewer with intention.
Look, I don't care what any given author feels about another writer's work, literary criticism is sort of the point of reading. But Ms. Libes insists on dragging out the same few "classic" writers in order to disparage contemporary fiction and prop up her own efforts by comparison. It's a bit like complaining that the problem with contemporary figure painting is that the subjects don't measure up to the contorted giants in the Sistine Chapel.
Art moves along. What made art great in the past is that it emerged from that context and yet still speaks to us today. But the context has changed and the blueprint for one generation does not neatly transpose in time to the present. Ms. Libes should enjoy the moment of her own time, and find a way to celebrate her place in it rather than try and recapitulate the (rightly)tortured efforts of czarist era scribes.
But will Ben Lerner’s writing still speak to us over the years to come? This book is barely 6 years old and hardly speaking to anyone less than a decade after its publication. You might not appreciate Ms. Libes’s taste, but she’s right that contemporary fiction, including literary fiction, seems to be written and published with the purpose of being discarded. A culture where everything is disposable, from its art to its worldview to its children, is pretty grim.
Read old books. The self-righteousness arises because these are people without ground or Tradition!, as Tevye would say. Or, as Freddie Mercury would say, "Any way the wind blows, it doesn't really matter."
Excellent commentary and examples. The examples moved me deeply - to grab some Pepto Bismol.
I don't know how that didn't hit your DNF. The examples almost put me to sleep. I know modern literature can be a chore, but I recommend Theo of Golden. Not because everyone else does, but because of what it is. You can tell it is the gentlema's first novel and that it was originally self published. I can take a little bit of head hopping. The characters, while not fully fleshed, are great and there's an emotionally resonance that carries through.
The mention of Horbiger was to let certain customers know that he's read Morning of the Magicians. No story to tell? Obscure references are a perfectly acceptable substitute.
Thanks for going to the trouble of reading this slop.How did you ever get through it? Really. I couldn't get through the examples. Who reads this stuff?
I love your reviews you've saved me from reading a lot of terrible fiction, and this one made me laugh out loud. Especially this line, "Lerner makes no attempt to differentiate between the distinct souls of his characters, nor does he seem to comprehend that there are people in the universe who aren’t Ben Lerner." 😭😭 But I think that pretty accurately describes modern man, not just modern authors...
Dude you’re so funny. I don’t know if you mean to come off that way but I swear you’re a comedian at heart. It’s always such a pleasure to read your work😂
Oh, so it was this book you were referencing in the note! I remember reading a bit of it a while after it got published. (IIRC, it was right before COVID.) It was a DNF for me: I remember the word choice left me unable to connect with the characters or get into the story as much as I hoped I would. Your complaints about the writing style match my own: Too detached, too emotionless, too void of any avenue for understanding any overall feeling. After looking back now on some of the praise people heaped on this book, I was confused. "The most talented writer of his generation?" "A high-water mark in American fiction?" I'm not so sure about that.
I was somewhat disappointed that I couldn't finish this novel. I feel I should have: I figure I align with (or at least close to) Lerner on the left-right political spectrum, the ideas it sought to communicate intrigued me, and I thought that it was rather evocative of the current moment. However, the bloated and self-important style turned me off, and I figured there were other writers to whom I could turn my attention. Unfortunately, 2020 was not a year I spent doing much reading, although I had a Kindle and plenty of time with which to do so. Depression strikes at the damnedest times.
Somehow my response to another commenter ended up in response to your comment instead. I deleted and moved it. Sorry about that!
No worries! I was just responding to it and the site refreshed; I thought I had clicked something by mistake!
(The "short" version of what was going to be my reply: I have been thinking about the current situation regarding contemporary fiction, based on Liza's writing, continued comments from its critics, and chatting with my friends in the humanities. I think the greatest issue is that authors focus more on writing for the current moment and in a voice that they think might appeal to the average reader (which often reads like a jagged train of thought) than on the bigger issues and ideas to which readers - and humans - can connect. Hence why many contemporary novels feel weaker, and hence why they feel dated in the years - or sometimes months - after they hit the shelves.)
(Hopefully this wasn't too much of a word salad!)
There is a spirit of whinging about this post that seems to say more about the writer's failure to attain market traction than actual literary insight. Example: Ms. Libes complains about the protagonists failure to react appropriately in the presence of a Duccio "Madonna and Child". That's the point of the author's narrative. From the NYT review of the same novel: "And when he sees a fellow museumgoer moved literally to tears by Roger van Der Weyden’s “Descent From the Cross,” his own reflections point less to reverence than to doubt. “I had long worried that I was incapable of having a profound experience of art,” Adam admits, and “was intensely suspicious of people who claimed a poem or painting or piece of music ‘changed their life’ … the closest I’d come to having a profound experience of art was probably … a profound experience of the absence of profundity.”
The author is establishing shallowness on the part of the viewer with intention.
Look, I don't care what any given author feels about another writer's work, literary criticism is sort of the point of reading. But Ms. Libes insists on dragging out the same few "classic" writers in order to disparage contemporary fiction and prop up her own efforts by comparison. It's a bit like complaining that the problem with contemporary figure painting is that the subjects don't measure up to the contorted giants in the Sistine Chapel.
Art moves along. What made art great in the past is that it emerged from that context and yet still speaks to us today. But the context has changed and the blueprint for one generation does not neatly transpose in time to the present. Ms. Libes should enjoy the moment of her own time, and find a way to celebrate her place in it rather than try and recapitulate the (rightly)tortured efforts of czarist era scribes.
Keep on keeping on.
But will Ben Lerner’s writing still speak to us over the years to come? This book is barely 6 years old and hardly speaking to anyone less than a decade after its publication. You might not appreciate Ms. Libes’s taste, but she’s right that contemporary fiction, including literary fiction, seems to be written and published with the purpose of being discarded. A culture where everything is disposable, from its art to its worldview to its children, is pretty grim.
Read old books. The self-righteousness arises because these are people without ground or Tradition!, as Tevye would say. Or, as Freddie Mercury would say, "Any way the wind blows, it doesn't really matter."