{"id":57203,"date":"2013-08-02T11:45:33","date_gmt":"2013-08-02T15:45:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=57203"},"modified":"2013-08-02T12:01:00","modified_gmt":"2013-08-02T16:01:00","slug":"what-were-loving-pulp-fiction-struggles-kuwait","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/08\/02\/what-were-loving-pulp-fiction-struggles-kuwait\/","title":{"rendered":"What We\u2019re Loving: Pulp Fiction, Struggles, Kuwait"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"troubledcover-636x310\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Troubled Daughters, Twisted Wives<\/em><\/a>, an anthology of\u00a0\u201cdomestic suspense\u201d fiction written by women between the forties and the seventies, makes for perfect subway reading: not only are the stories magazine-short, but the book\u2019s terrific, pulpy cover is a real conversation starter. In her introduction, editor Sarah Weinman makes a compelling case for the genre\u2019s subversive impact, both on society and the modern psychological thriller. But influence aside, the stories are just plain fun: whether it\u2019s Patricia Highsmith\u2019s highly-strung nanny, Shirley Jackson\u2019s paranoid runaway, or a noirish housewife with a sinister secret, the cast of characters will haunt you long after you\u2019ve reached your stop. \u2014Sadie Stein<\/strong><\/p>\n

My first read through Geoffrey O\u2019Brien\u2019s new collection, People on Sunday<\/i><\/a>, induced a kind of dazzled bafflement. The language is precise but the turns are hard to follow: \u201cIt\u2019s the opposite \/ of dreaming,\u201d he explains in one poem, \u201cexcept that objects \/ are alive and episodic, connected \/ by comforting blurs.\u201d I especially liked a poem set in New Mexico (\u201cThis land was always postnuclear, \/ Out of time while in it\u201d), and another about riding the F train (\u201cit\u2019s embarrassing \/ still to be riding this system, antiquated \/ As reading a newspaper or choosing \/ The semicolon\u201d). After a second and third reading, I find that O\u2019Brien\u2019s most urgent theme is the difficulty of writing public-spirited poetry at a time when \u201cthe poem \/ Is now believed to be the most distant \/ Object ever seen.\u201d You might think this would make for a poetry of despair or irony, but oftentimes it\u2019s just the opposite: \u201cWe decided to rebuild our home again \/ In the intermittent sun, strangers with arms \/ Linked to protect the thing behind them.\u201d\u00a0\u2014Robyn Creswell<\/strong> <\/p>\n

The summer issue of Banipal<\/a><\/i> surveys the fiction of Kuwait, with an array of stories by revered writers such as Ismail Fahd Ismail\u2014one of the few known in the broader Arab world\u2014but also a large number from young novelists, including Bothayna al-Essa, Saud al-Sanousi, and Abdel Wahab al-Hammadi. The work reflects the reality of contemporary Kuwait, a country that only recently embraced modernism with the discovery and export of oil. Don\u2019t read this for stylistic experimentation; the style is, consistently, plain, direct, heartbreaking, and, somehow, utterly relatable. \u201cAfter twenty years of being a wife, and a mother to five children, a man looked at her from afar and smiled,\u201d writes Yousef Khalifa, \u201cand she remembered she was a woman.\u201d \u2014Justin Alvarez<\/strong><\/p>\n

This spring I\u00a0recommended<\/a>\u00a0J. R. Ackerley\u2019s novel We Think the World of You<\/em><\/a> as a cure (or consolation) for the blues. New prescription: one packet smuggled cigarillos, two glasses cold vodka, and Ackerley\u2019s memoir My Father and Myself<\/em><\/a>. The first time I read the book\u2014Ackerley’s memoir of his outwardly respectable Edwardian father and of his father\u2019s secret life\u2014what struck me was the author\u2019s self-hatred. Maybe I\u2019ve been reading too much Edward St Aubyn, maybe my contempt dials have simply recalibrated themselves, but now My Father and Myself<\/em> doesn\u2019t sound self-hating at all. What I notice is its humor, forgiveness, and almost heroic self-acceptance, especially when Ackerley writes about his own life as an English homosexual in the first half of the century. Guaranteed to get you through a rainy night. \u2014Lorin Stein<\/strong><\/p>\n

I ordered Part 1 (yes, this is the six-volume epic autobiography) of Karl Ove Knausgaard\u2019s My Struggle<\/em><\/a> after writing press releases for the interview with the author<\/a> that we published on the Daily <\/em>a few weeks ago. Knausgaard wastes no time in getting to the most profound of thoughts, so neither will I: \u201cFor the heart, life is simple: it beats for as long as it can. Then it stops. Sooner or later, one day, this pounding action will cease of its own accord, and the blood will begin to run toward the body\u2019s lowest point, where it will collect in a small pool, visible from outside as dark, soft patch on ever whitening skin, as the temperature sinks, the limbs stiffen and the intestines drain. These changes in the first hours occur so slowly and take place with such inexorability that there is something almost ritualistic about them, as though life capitulates according to specific rules, a kind of gentleman\u2019s agreement \u2026 The moment that life departs the body, it belongs to death. At one with lamps, suitcases, carpets, door handles, windows.\u201d\u00a0\u2014Nikkitha Bakshani<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Troubled Daughters, Twisted Wives, an anthology of\u00a0\u201cdomestic suspense\u201d fiction written by women between the forties and the seventies, makes for perfect subway reading: not only are the stories magazine-short, but the book\u2019s terrific, pulpy cover is a real conversation starter. In her introduction, editor Sarah Weinman makes a compelling case for the genre\u2019s subversive impact, […]<\/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":[11529,11527,11531,11532,11526,10228,8542,11528,7515,11530],"class_list":["post-57203","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-abdel-wahab-al-hammadi","tag-bothayna-al-essa","tag-geoffrey-obrian","tag-geoffrey-obrien","tag-ismail-fahd-ismail","tag-j-r-ackerley","tag-karl-ove-knausgaard","tag-saud-al-sanousi","tag-thomas-bernhard","tag-yousef-khalifa"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWhat We\u2019re Loving: Pulp Fiction, Struggles, Kuwait by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"August 2, 2013 \u2013 Troubled Daughters, Twisted Wives, an anthology of\u00a0\u201cdomestic suspense\u201d fiction written by women between the forties and the seventies, makes for perfect\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/08\/02\/what-were-loving-pulp-fiction-struggles-kuwait\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"What We\u2019re Loving: Pulp Fiction, Struggles, Kuwait by The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"August 2, 2013 \u2013 Troubled Daughters, Twisted Wives, an anthology of\u00a0\u201cdomestic suspense\u201d fiction written by women between the forties and the seventies, makes for perfect\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/08\/02\/what-were-loving-pulp-fiction-struggles-kuwait\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2013-08-02T15:45:33+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2013-08-02T16:01:00+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/08\/troubledcover-636x310.jpeg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"636\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"310\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"4 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/08\/02\/what-were-loving-pulp-fiction-struggles-kuwait\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/08\/02\/what-were-loving-pulp-fiction-struggles-kuwait\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/4a14f739935c82f100675b84e220252e\"},\"headline\":\"What We\u2019re Loving: Pulp Fiction, Struggles, Kuwait\",\"datePublished\":\"2013-08-02T15:45:33+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2013-08-02T16:01:00+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/08\/02\/what-were-loving-pulp-fiction-struggles-kuwait\/\"},\"wordCount\":751,\"commentCount\":2,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/08\/02\/what-were-loving-pulp-fiction-struggles-kuwait\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/08\/troubledcover-636x310.jpeg\",\"keywords\":[\"Abdel Wahab al-Hammadi\",\"Bothayna al-Essa\",\"Geoffrey O\u2019Brian\",\"Geoffrey O\u2019Brien\",\"Ismail Fahd Ismail\",\"J.R. 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