The Humbling

Philip Roth’s latest short novel “The Humbling” continues his late fascination with death and decay - “the speeding up of slowing down” Like much of his more recent output it’s another departure from the usual Newark Jewish intellectual milieu, although there are still some resonances with earlier work.

Simon Axler occupies centre stage. A formerly feted and lionised performer he has precipitously failed - He can no longer act. His life in disarray and after failed attempts to revive his powers he retreats to his country mansion.
There, deserted by his talent, his wife but not, apparently, by his powers of seduction he begins a short lived affair with Pegeen, 40 year old voluptuous daughter of his closest friends and still reeling from her lover’s decision for gender reassignment. As buxom, beautiful lesbians go Pegeen may well be a geriatric male’s masturbatory fantasy but Axler is ultimately cast off when Pegeen abandons her heterosexual experiment.

Sex is a major element and some of the sex scenes are wincingly bad ( Roth is nominated in the “Bad Sex Awards” this year Bad Sex Award 2009) but there’s a hint of provocation that suggests it’s deliberately so. It sits so awkwardly with the beautifully controlled prose that the alternative seems improbable.

Roth’s celebrated ear for dialogue also appears to desert him but a more generous reading would allow the possibility that Axler is effectively snared within a performance. He doesn’t speak. He has dialogue. He emotes. The nature of his end would support this - Simon must have felt himself “a poor player”, “a walking shadow” his final act possible only if scripted.

Roth’s point could be that we are all similarly trapped in a performance. Unfortunately, for many, it’s one rarely written by Chekhov.

Yo La Tengo - Manchester Academy 2 - 7 Nov 2009

As I possibly alluded to in an earlier post, Yo La Tengo are one of those groups that are very difficult to categorise - "what sort of music is it"? Well, they kind of make jangly pop full of beautiful vocal harmonies, which is often buried below very beautiful dense guitar sounds. Something like that. But you are best having a listen yourself, as it is very difficult to describe music in words.

I don't think they tour the provinces very often, so I was very much looking forward to it. As usual, I had an extra ticket, and as usual, none of my "so called" friends could be bothered and/or had never heard of YLT. I ended up selling it to a tout for £5.00 - I have mixed views about touting online, but I think this "front of venue" type of activity gives you another chance to see a group that has been sold out for ages. I think touts play a very complex economic lottery with their market-making, but I would expect my ticket to have been sold for £25+ to the middle aged men who like this kind of music.

Anyway, Garry "Slippers" Bradbury met me at the venue (having purchased his ticket independently of me), and we first watched the very entertaining Euros Childs (ex of Gorky's Zygotic Mynci) bash out his slightly shambolic brand of keyboard-led indie pop. His new album (Son of Euro Child) is currently available as a free download from his site - and is worth every penny. In fact, it is worth the tenner I handed over to him after the gig. We had an interesting discussion of the economics of making music available for free, and I was tickled to hear him say "economic model" in his broad Welsh accent.

The main event was fantastic. I am not particularly good at recalling names of songs, especially true of YLT material as their music often has a hypnotic quality that blends into a beautiful soundscape (see And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out). However, standout songs included If It's True, Here to Fall and the fantastic set closer You Can Have it All. I loved the way how they created such a racket with just 3 people on stage, though they are all clearly talented musicians as they regularly swapped between instruments.

The main singer, Ira Kaplan, said during the encore that they like to do a song by a band from the city they are playing at. As he couldn't think of any Manchester bands(I think he was joking!) he played I Wanna Be Your Lover by Bob Dylan - he chose this becasue it was one of the songs Dylan played when he first went electric at the Free Trade Hall in Manchester in 1966. Right on cue, some wag from the audience shouted "Judas!". I laughed, anyway.

After the gig, I went to buy a t-shirt, and had a quick chat with Ira. I complimented him on his fabulous guitar playing, and said that now I had 4 lessons under my belt, I would soon give him a run for his money. Rather modestly, he said that he couldn't play guitar until AFTER he had been in Yo La Tengo for 2 years!

All in all, a great night out.

Invisible

Paul Auster has been described as “a one trick pony that’s saddled up and left town” so much in thrall to the conventions of metafiction that any narrative drowns under the weight of post modern literary artifice. This is arguably not the case with “Invisible”. Whilst the trademark preoccupations (memory, truth, despair …) are present they don’t obtrude. This is actually a, relatively, conventional coming of age story. Told in four interlocking parts, the prose is precise and controlled. The dialogue is convincing and the narrative voices are well differentiated. There are momentary lapses but these are neatly dealt with. Without revealing any plot details the interlocking parts are independently authored. Whilst the names have been changed to protect the innocent the text has otherwise been rendered accurately - it’s the post-modern authors “get out of jail card”.

It’s still a “tricksy” novel though, but it’s not a full blown “Philip K Dickian” “mind-f**k”. There’s the usual blurring of boundaries – Adam Walker is a Columbia student (guess where Paul Auster went), Georges Perec gets a mention – no one reads airport thrillers in an Auster novel, and as you’d expect it abounds with references and allusions (I think!). I’m fairly sure I didn’t get one half of them but I’m convinced Rudolf Born bears more than a passing resemblance to Kurtz although, naturally, it’s the Marlon Brando reincarnation that features. Sadly I can’t mention any others without a spoiler warning (or maybe that’s my get out of jail card?)

So Although “Invisible” is firmly within the Auster fold it’s also his most readable to date. With previous novels it’s hard to avoid the feeling that they are read in the main by cognoscenti ticking off or nodding to each reference in smug satisfaction. It’s still an option here but more than any of his previous work it’s also possible to just sit back and enjoy the ride.