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Posts Tagged ‘rebecca’

Light and Diabolical; Coming Off the Beats

April 27, 2012 | by

Dear Paris Review,
I’ve just finished
Dr. Zhivago and am on the hunt for a palate cleanser. I’ve been left with romance on the mind and would like to stay in this vein. I don’t want to go too lowbrow, like toward trashy romance novels, but something as light and diabolical but still classy and well written would be nice. Any suggestions?
Thanks,
Olivia

Romantic, diabolical, and light—it’s a tall order. But Ivan Turgenev’s First Love rises to the challenge. So does Terry Castle’s long story-essay “The Professor” (the whole collection is a knockout), ditto the title story in David Bezmozgis’s collection, Natasha (ditto the collection). You might also want to see my staff pick for this week, Goodbye, First Love.

In case you’re still jonesing for epic: Shirley Hazzard’s The Transit of Venus isn’t exactly light, but it clips along, and it’s romantic with darkness. Then there’s the book that Sadie and I seem to recommend more than any other, not (in my case) because it’s my favorite, but because it’s excellent and so often fits one bill or another, as indeed it fits this one: Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca.

As a nineteen-year-old writer, struggling against ego and literary giants that marked an era (the Beats), sick of the droning whir of academia, and thirsting for life. What should I read to have me excited about life, about writing.

Thank you,
Connor Goodwin

Ah, to be nineteen and coming off the Beats … I’m tempted to recommend the work of our Southern editor, as for example his collection, Pulphead. There’s a book that knows the Beat tradition, that knows academia, that knows the myth of the great author and quietly steers its own path through those perilous straits. It may give you encouragement. The same is true of The Savage Detectives. Or, if you want a more classic antidote to literary machismo, To the Lighthouse. Or for sheer life affirmation and prose descriptions that make you burst out laughing, they’re so good: Death Comes to the Archbishop or The Adventures of Augie March. Read More »

6 COMMENTS

Summer Reading; Formatting Horrors

April 13, 2012 | by

Dear Paris Review,

I’m a second-semester senior in high school and currently find myself with a lot of empty time. I also have an open summer ahead with plenty of time to read books. Do you have any novel recommendations for someone about to enter college?

Our friends at n+1 devoted an entire pamphlet to the question, more or less: What We Should Have Known. Our advice is more equivocal: the main thing is to have a whole bunch of books so you can switch if you get bored.

With that caveat, and in no special order: To the Lighthouse, Sons and Lovers, Howard’s End, Invisible Man, Brideshead Revisited, Girl in Landscape, Pnin, Rebecca, The Crying of Lot 49, The Broom of the System, Two Girls, Fat and Thin, Portnoy’s Complaint, War and Peace, Crime and Punishment, The Transit of Venus, The Death of the Heart, The Tetherballs of Bougainville, Home Land, Cane, As I Lay Dying, The Sun Also Rises, Confessions of a Mask, The Savage Detectives, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Marius the Epicurean, First Love, First Love and Other Sorrows, and Moby-Dick.

I recently read Lolita and have since been obsessed with Nabokov. What are other Russian novels, or to broaden the list, European novels that you would recommend?

Have you read others novels by Nabokov? My favorite is Pnin (see above). The tricky thing about your question is that no European writes like him—or if they do, it’s in a language I can’t read. The most Nabokovian writer I know is John Updike, but he’s American. Try the Rabbit books. You might also like Javier Marías: start with A Heart So White. And if what you really want is European, magisterial, and ironic, there’s Lydia Davis’s new translation of Madame Bovary. Nabokov almost certainly wouldn’t approve of the translation—he never approved—but I think he would disapprove less than of the others. Read More »

5 COMMENTS

On the Shelf

January 25, 2012 | by

A cultural news roundup.

  • Who threatened Rushdie?
  • The author takes his critics to Twitter.
  • victory for publishers.
  • “It was only when I read his article on wallpaper that I realised a hitherto unappreciated aspect of Charles Dickens: his interest in interior décor.”
  • Broadway will return to Manderley ... next year.
  • “People who read poetry are the unsung customer base for independent bookstores.”
  • The poetry of Craigslist.
  • Ten reasons not to sleep with a poet.
  • Cormac McCarthy did not, in fact, have a 140-character affair with Margaret Atwood.
  • A sad Sunday for Lawrence Ferlinghetti.
  • The Internet as an image of gluttony: “A great groaning table, creaking under bottomless platters of food and pitchers of drink, and we in our chairs, too exhausted to stand, mouths too numb to taste much, but with just enough energy to reach for more.”
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    Staff Picks: ‘The Doll,’ Minaudières

    November 18, 2011 | by

    Daphne du Maurier.

    I was thrilled when a copy of The Doll—Daphne du Maurier’s early short stories, some “lost”—arrived in the office. They’re not all amazing, but when she’s good, she’s great. There’s the same sense of cold dread that pervades Don’t Look Now and Rebecca, and the title story presages the latter’s themes of obsession. (Not to mention, the object of obsession is named ... Rebecca.) —Sadie Stein

    Olympia Le-Tan’s world! I dream of carrying my MetroCard and keys inside one of her handmade books, or minaudières, as they say in France. —Jessica Calderon

    “I often feel that the scenes in Edward Hopper paintings are scenes from my own past” writes Mark Strand in Hopper, which pairs the artist’s paintings with Strand’s prose ruminations on them. It’s a little like meandering through a gallery with the poet. In it, “we feel the presence of what is hidden, of what surely exists but is not revealed … It weighs on us like solitude.” —Deirdre Foley-Mendelssohn

    I’ve been reading and rereading the lovely long poem “The Blue Book” from Anna Moschovakis’s I Have Not Been Able to Get Through to Everyone. Its circuitous logic, in which one line feeds off the one before it, is mesmerizing. Each section describes the progression of an idea as a kind of mathematical equation, proving itself even as it calls itself into question. —Nicole Rudick

    1 COMMENT

    On the Shelf

    November 2, 2011 | by

    A cultural news roundup.

  • The International literary community rallies around an imprisoned Turkish publisher and activist.
  • Steve Jobs tops the best-seller list.
  • Rebecca ... the musical!
  • Heart of Darkness ... the opera!
  • Blue Nights ... the movie!
  • Lisbeth Salander ... the clothing line?
  • Salman Rushdie on Kim Kardashian. On Twitter. In limerick.
  • Speaking of strange bedfellows: Groucho Marx and T. S. Eliot.
  • J. K. Rowling considered killing off Ron “out of sheer spite.”
  • Speaking of spite, Didion vs. Kael.
  • Awesome people reading.
  • 3 COMMENTS

    Literary Halloween Costumes; Romantic Gestures

    October 28, 2011 | by

    What are the most successful romantic gestures in literature? I need to win someone back, stat. Failing that, can you recommend reading to mend a broken heart?

    Levin wins back Kitty after behaving like a complete ass, but you may not have time to read Anna Karenina. There’s the moment when Little Miss No Name runs downstairs to say good-bye to Max de Winter, in Rebecca, and it happens early in the book, but maybe that’s not exactly a case of winning somebody back. I’m guessing swordplay and feats of derring-do are not to the point—so I would read Pursuits of Happiness, Stanley Cavell’s 1981 study of what he calls “remarriage comedies,” movies about couples falling apart and getting back together. First you’ll want to cue up the movies in question: The Lady Eve, It Happened One Night, Bringing Up Baby, The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Adams Rib, and The Awful Truth.

    If that doesn’t give you any ideas, readers of this column will guess my first recommendation: the wacky but wise self-help book Love and Limerence, also Ovid’s Cure for Love—full of useful advice, like: focus on the beloved’s physical imperfections—and George Jones, opera omnia.

    Do you think joining a private social club—a super old-fashioned one in a historic building whose members have all led long, literary lives—sounds (a) retro and totally cool, or (b) stodgy and a little weird, a misplaced desire for a twenty-something who might be the clubs only member under sixty, and only Jew in history?

    Read More »

    3 COMMENTS