This is a week late, but I’m still without internet at home and adjusting to my new housing:
1. Life: A User’s Manual by Georges Perec (1978, Translated by David Bellos, 1987): This large novel alone took up a week of reading time. After all my reading of Oulipian works, I decided it was time I actually read this paragon of the constrained novel. In 100 chapters, Perec describes one moment in time in a Parisian apartment building, one room at a time. While the present of the novel exists at one moment in one building, the chapters themselves, in their unfolding stories, span decades and continents. The central story that crosses a number of chapters tells of a man who plans a self-negating project involving landscape paintings and puzzles which takes up decades of his life. The puzzle and the project emerge as thematic metaphors for the novel itself. Perec set himself an extraordinary number of constraints in constructing the novel (there’s a whole book showing his diagrams and plans). He divided the building into a ten by ten grid and organizes the chapters (one room per chapter) by jumping from room to room in a path called the “knight’s tour” which involves moving like a chess knight in such a way as to hit every square without hitting any one twice. He also quotes (unattributed) other authors in each chapter (the only one I picked up on was a few passages from Raymond Roussel). The book is filled with entertaining stories that seem to hold a few mysteries, a novel that demands rereading. Plus, it’s got an index, and lists, lots of lists.
2. Egon Schiele Landscapes by Rudolf Leopold (Prestel, 2004): While Schiele is best known for his figurative works, this book of his landscapes is amazing. He compresses, abstracts, and subtracts from reality. I particular like the pencil sketches, occasionally accented by some watercolor. If you only know his figures, this is a book to look up. More on this when I get around to scanning a few images.
3. Mr. Big by Carol and Matt Dembicki (Little Foot, 2007): A short graphic novel about the animal life in and around a pond. Interesting for the way the animals are anthropomorphized only as far as speaking, but without the human hands, tools, or upright stance of most comic animals. The layouts are often confused and unnecessarily unusual (tons of overlapping panels and curved borders). The story falls a few times into sermony type speeches which push points that should be made obvious through the story without the need for excessive speechifying (in this case it’s about balance in nature).
4. The End by Anders Nilsen (Fantagraphics, 2007): One of Nilsen’s stronger works, it retains his isolated characters and abstracted narratives but has more cohesion and emotional impact. Sometimes I found Nilsen’s minimalism lacking, but in this book it works extremely well. In a Fantagraphics add they call it a collection of stories. I read it is a single unit of disparate parts, which may explain why I felt certain parts were out of place. Still, the packaging does not do much to indicate any divisions (beginnings, endings, parts).
5. Krazy Kat: A Brick Stuffed with Moombims (1939-1940) by George Herriman (Fantagraphics, 2007): The latest Krazy Kat reprint featuring two years of color Sundays. I’ve been finding the strip less interesting in the color versions. Maybe it’s just because it was getting old?
6. Eddie Campbell on “In Thrall to the Cinematic Principle”: Campbell argues against the use of cinematic terms in comics. I’m of two minds on this matter. On the one hand, I think it is important that comics have their own terminology for elements that are unique to the form. On the other hand, some cinematic terms are appropriate for use with comics. We use literary terms when discussing comics (even as far as the “graphic novel”), so why not film.
7. The Pound Era by Hugh Kenner (1971): Still working my way through this long book, that is kind of a biography of the poetry of Ezra Pound and company (that is different people in his circles). Some of it is riveting and thought provoking, some of it is boring and worth skipping.
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7 Responses to “Perec Pound and Ponds”
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“Campbell argues against the use of cinematic terms in comics. I’m of two minds on this matter. On the one hand, I think it is important that comics have their own terminology…”
Derik
I’ve noticed a tendency toward imprecision in much of your writing over the months . I think you’ll find that Campbell was not arguing about terminology. He was arguing about ways of thinking. Use whatever terms you like, but they will probably reveal habits of which the writer/speaker is unaware and which are often ingrained and bad.
e.g. A person might ask himself if he is sexist, or racist (just as a frinstance). he should start by looking at names and terms that he takes for granted, and may even at first feel an inclination to defend some of them. If he eliminates the word ‘nigger’ from his usage, he won’t be eliminating his racism, but he will be attacking the roots, which is to say questioning things he didn’t question before, and making a start in the reorganising of his head. The term in itself is not the problem.
–campbell himself
Nice to see you back, Derik.
You give us a little synopsis of Life, but I really have no idea what you thought of it (or maybe the fact that you don’t say what you think of it already means something). I mean, really, it didn’t just blow your mind? I must admit, compared to it, I find pretty much all other Oulipo projects basically to be nice writing-program exercises. But maybe it’s just me, and maybe having read it ages ago, when I was twenty-one, may explain its hold on me.
By the way, especially if you like Pound (I love him), “The Pound Era” is extraordinary. What I really appreciate about it, as an academic, is that it’s the kind of writing that, in my field at least (art history), is simply considered unacceptable. And that’s how I want to write from now on.
Generally, I must say, I get much much more from your longer close readings than from your weekly reading blurbs which, being so short, tend a bit toward the generic. I hope you don’t mind my telling you that.
Eddie: Sorry, I was not trying to misrepresent. I’m hoping to go into the whole issue further at another date (no time now). I’m still puzzling out where exactly what you suggest differs from cinema. For instance: “My idea was to take ‘cutting’ away and replace it with a keen observation of body language. In order to see subtle interactions between two bodies…”
We can see this type of work in cinema too, my particular favorite examples being Jarmusch, Ozu, or Ming-liang.
Andrei: As I noted, it “demands rereading.” It didn’t blow my mind the same way, say Ulysses or The Recognitions did. But I also think, because of its more fractured structure, that rereading will bring out a lot more of the work. There is a lot more beneath the surface, I am sure.
I agree about the shorter comments. I will be posting longer items again as soon as I get settled in (I’m working on something for Comixpedia right now, which is more of a close reading). These little list posts are more of a way for me to keep up with a running list of what I’ve been reading. Some of these will surely get expanded upon in the future (in this case, Nilsen’s work deserves closer attention).
I’m further into the Kenner and still find a frustrating mix, which may speak more to my tastes and interests than to Kenner’s writing (I loved his essay on Flaubert as comedian). It did inspire me to pick up the Selected Cantos which I half read previously.
“…compared to it, I find pretty much all other Oulipo projects basically to be nice writing-program exercises.”
It’s hard to disagree. Personally I find the best Oulipian works to be more in this genre (novel, both form and content constrained): Harry Mathews’ novels, Sorrentino’s constrained works, Doug Nufer’s books, etc. Perec is one of the only French exemplars of this arena to get any attention in English (from my limited view, the more recent Oulipians do a lot more prose work of this ilk than the earlier generation).
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with thinking cinematically.
In the same way that there is nothing wrong with thinking of having a whisky. There may be something seriously wrong with not being able to think of anything else, all the time.
my argument essentially was that in thinking only cinematically an artist loses a sense of the picture and what the picture is supposed to do and what it is supposed to be about. When i used to read comics to my son, those Batman Adventures should have been ideal, but I found to my dismay that the 4 year old lad couldn’t ‘read’ the pictures because of the way they were fragmented. There weren’t enough complete pictures for him to relate the fragments to. I exempt Templeton’s version from that criticism. he knew how to do it properly, but other than that we were all the way back to Gottfredson’s Mickey mouse (then coming out from gladstone)
p.s. Charles Yoakum saw exactly what i meant in this anecdote about cylops and his beams (brought up while discussing my point).
http://inkdestroyedmybrush.blogspot.com/2007/03/art-of-storytelling-should-cinema-rule.html
“I recall someone who was editing a version of the Marvel Universe guide discussing how hard it was to find a shot of Cyclops using his eye beams with the effect of the beams being shown in the same panel. He had to go all the way back to Kirby’s layouts in X-Men 13 or so to get the shot.”
i.e. the artist takes it as a given that the reader knows what is supposed to be happening. After a few years and a few generations of this, we find that comics speak in phrases, syllables, half sentences, which are indecipherable to somebody who is not in on the secret language.
Kirby was the last guy who bothered to show the whole picture. Everybody since then just ‘referred’ to it.
how’s that?
have i explained it better?
the essence of the drama must be contained in each panel of the sequence of that drama.
(or whatever it was I said in the first place)