{"id":37980,"date":"2012-08-31T11:46:12","date_gmt":"2012-08-31T15:46:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=37980"},"modified":"2012-08-31T12:02:42","modified_gmt":"2012-08-31T16:02:42","slug":"what-we%e2%80%99re-loving-stridentists-oblivion","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2012\/08\/31\/what-we%e2%80%99re-loving-stridentists-oblivion\/","title":{"rendered":"What We\u2019re Loving: Stridentists, Oblivion"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Of the first volume of Karl Ove Knausgaard\u2019s long, uneventful bildungsroman, My Struggle<\/em>, James Wood wrote<\/a>, \u201cEven when I was bored, I was interested.\u201d Wood is a man who knows how to pay attention to long, boring books, even at times enjoys them, so I began My Struggle<\/em><\/a> with trepidation; it was misplaced. The book kept me up till two almost every morning for a week. All the good things Wood says about the novel seem to me true; but I loved it even when the narrator slipped into clich\u00e9s, because they made him seem that much more real and singleminded in his storytelling. I don\u2019t read Norwegian, but it\u2019s hard to believe that the translator, Don Bartlett, could have made such vital, humane prose\u2014over such a long stretch\u2014unless he was hewing close to a work of genius. \u2014Lorin Stein <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2019s my brutal \/ many-minded \/ poem \/ to the new city,\u201d are the first words of Manuel Maples Arce\u2019s \u201cCity: Bolshevik Super-Poem in 5 Cantos.\u201d<\/a> The poem was first published in Mexico City in 1924, and the subtitle isn\u2019t entirely ironic. Another stanza begins, \u201cRussia\u2019s lungs \/ blow the wind \/ of social revolution \/ in our direction. \/ Literary dick gropers \/ will understand nothing.\u201d I first read about Arce in Savage Detectives<\/em>, where he is one of the deities in Bola\u00f1o\u2019s pantheon of the Latin American avant-garde, identified as \u201cthe father of stridentism.\u201d I thought this was a made-up group, but it really existed (that\u2019s them, in the photo). They gathered in a caf\u00e9 called Mult\u00e1nime (\u201cmany-minded\u201d), where a contemporary reports that \u201cthe waiters placed their order via radio and the Pianola played music from intercepted Martian concerts.\u201d \u2014Robyn Creswell
<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

If you want to know what oblivion feels like\u2014if only for half an hour\u2014head over to The Murder of Crows<\/em><\/a> at the Park Avenue Armory. The sound installation by Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller uses the building\u2019s 55,000-square-foot drill hall to great effect: some two dozen chairs are arranged in the center of the room, together with ninety-eight speakers at various heights, some of which are scattered throughout the hall. The looped mix of dream narrative and sound collage produces a gentle but unmistakably nightmarish soundscape that stalks the emptiness, enveloping you, creeping around behind you, and coming up unexpectedly at your side. With the exception of the small central area, the giant hall is unlit. I crept into a pitch-black corner to listen unobserved to the crashing waves and disembodied footsteps only to be suddenly pursued out of the dark by a booming Russian men\u2019s choir. It was startling, a little frightening, and quite thrilling. \u2014Nicole Rudick<\/strong><\/p>\n

Where do books go when they die? By death, I\u2019m not referring to the \u201cinevitable fall of the book\u201d or the \u201cdeath of the independent bookstore,\u201d but to the more basic question of what happens to a physical volume once removed from a library\u2019s collection? While a tremendous number of titles continue to disappear from the public realm, havens like the Reanimaton Library <\/a>in Gowanus, Brooklyn, strive to give new life to books of yesteryear. Librarian Andrew Beccone\u2019s interests lie in preserving the visual information in bodies of work that are not graphically driven. With gems like Geoffrey K. C. Pardoe\u2019s The Future for Space Technology<\/em> (1984) and Jacques-Yves and Philippe Cousteau\u2019s The Shark: Splendid Savage of the Sea <\/em>(1970), the library, housed in the Proteus Gowanus complex, is a feast for image archaeologists, artists, writers, and anyone looking for a pleasant Saturday morning activity. \u2014Justin Alvarez<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cTease Me\u201d<\/a> by folk singer Lianne La Havas has been my song of choice all week for after-work wanders around my neighborhood. Her delicate voice is the perfect complement to city sounds (as this performance of “No Room for Doubt<\/a>” amply demonstrates). \u2014Alyssa Loh<\/strong><\/p>\n

Last but not least, our Southern editor, John Jeremiah Sullivan, has the cover story in this week\u2019s Times<\/em> magazine: a riveting profile of Serena and Venus Williams<\/a>\u2014really, of all the Williams women. Sullivan also makes a guest appearance on the most recent episode of Louie<\/em>. At least, Pulphead<\/em> does, right over Louie\u2019s right shoulder while he\u2019s talking to the erotomanic bookseller played by Chloe Sevigny. (Louie<\/em> could make my staff picks pretty much every week, but when Pulphead<\/em> and Sevigny show up in the same episode, one must salute.) \u2014L.S.<\/strong><\/p>\n

[tweetbutton]<\/p>\n

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Of the first volume of Karl Ove Knausgaard\u2019s long, uneventful bildungsroman, My Struggle, James Wood wrote, \u201cEven when I was bored, I was interested.\u201d Wood is a man who knows how to pay attention to long, boring books, even at times enjoys them, so I began My Struggle with trepidation; it was misplaced. The book […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[438],"tags":[8544,8060,924,8059,1577,8542,8548,8549,8545,8543,8547,24,8546],"class_list":["post-37980","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-don-bartlett","tag-george-bures-miller","tag-james-wood","tag-janet-cardiff","tag-john-jeremiah-sullivan","tag-karl-ove-knausgaard","tag-lianne-la-havas","tag-louie","tag-manuel-maples-arce","tag-my-struggle","tag-reanimation-library","tag-roberto-bolano","tag-the-murder-of-crows"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWhat We\u2019re Loving: Stridentists, Oblivion by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"August 31, 2012 \u2013 Of the first volume of Karl Ove Knausgaard\u2019s long, uneventful bildungsroman, My Struggle, James Wood wrote, \u201cEven when I 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