My Struggle Book Two: A Man in Love by Karl Ove Knaugaard

 I read Book One many moons ago and (sort of) remember liking it, after reading about the Knausgaard phenom and being completely prepared to despise it.

So on to Book Two - if nothing else, it gives me something to go to when INFINTE JEST grinds my teeth down to powder (usually three pages).

The 13 Clocks by James Thurber

 

Don't know how I've missed reading this book all my life - intriguing fairy tale/children's book about an ugly, misanthropic nobelman hiding away his beautiful daughter from the world, giving suitors impossible tasks to fulfill to win her, then killing them and feeding them to the geese when they fail. An intrepid prince (disguised as a minstrel) enters the scene and wins the girl, helped along by some mysterious Deum de Machina characters.

The wordplay is fascinating and funny and deep. Need to re-read it immediately - and find the edition pictured, with illustrations by M. Searle of DOWN WITH SKOL and Molesworth fame.

The Rest of Our Lives by Benjamin Markovitz

 

Sailed right through this - a relief while still laboring away at INFINITE JEST - a short narrative of a disgruntled husband and father dropping his younger daughter off at college and just continuing on, away from his wife, his job, his troubled marriage. 

Interesting, and compelling as far as it goes - but seems to drop out quickly without resolution.

The narrator is easy for me to sympathize with, but I didn't really care about him. Is that cruel? Yes!

Lost Lambs by Madeline Cash

 

Good characters - but second half of plot gets a little ridiculous with enslaved prostitutes and ring of predator men.

The Slowworm's Song by Andrew Miller

The Irish Troubles, as navigated by an ex-British-Army recovering alcoholic dying of liver cancer/failure, as told in a long letter to his newly-reconciled daughter.

Very pretty prose. A small quiet narrative about big things, like love and forgiveness and addiction. 

 

Always funny. Each story is much the same, but Wodehouse's crafty vocabulary and diction makes each unique.

What We Can Know by Ian McEwan

 

Terrific novel from the always reliable McEwan. A literary mystery story spanning 150 years, going into a future where much of the world's has been submerged by climate change and human strife.

A sonnet sequence - a coronet of 15 linked poems - from 2015 (ish) goes missing. In the sequence, a renowned elderly poet allegedly rhapsodizes about his wife Vivien and their love and their shared joy in nature. But what's true in the poem may not be true wife. In the second half of the novel we read Viven's journal, in which several (many!) uglier truths are revealed.

Pure pleasure to read.

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

 

Naively (unwisely?) re-reading this (for the third time total).

It's still great - a droll, heartbreaking, technically prodigious masterpiece - but it's less fun this time around. It's just so difficult physically to read - often long long page(s) long paragraphs, intricately constructed sentence syntax interrupted by often-random brief footnotes, but occasionally chapter-length footnotes that advance the play and do key work narratively. Syntax already mentioned - Wallace worshipped syntax and deploys it hilariously and ironically and strategically, but you often feel like you're diagramming a sentence as you're reading it. His vocabulary (natch) is intense and technical and super-specific and (sometimes) created on the spot.

It's... alot.

The plot - revoling around tennis prodigy/genius/depressive/substance-abuser Hal Incandenza and his friends at a tennis academy/high school in Boston, a substance-abuse halfway house down the road and hill from there, separatists from Quebec planning terrorism, and a back-story involving a movie Hal's father made which kills anyone who watches it - is agonizingly drawn out. But the prose - Wallace's empathy for his characters, his humanity and wit - is always rewarding. If you have the wherewithal to read it all.  Certainly a middleclass intoxicated brainy young white man's book. Don't know how anyone else could care.

Bookmarked the father-song tennis lesson in the 300 page area - sort of insufferable.

Got through the Eschaton wargame extended scene, which was also annoying but easier to follow.

4/7/2026 - Still annoying but still gamely plowing through it. Extended history of TV-advertising tedious. What is is about it that's so unusual? Such brilliant thought and comedy is interwined with the most banal activities and trumped-up dramatic situation.

Shared qualities (in Stefano Ercolino’s phrasing) of the Maximalist novel, aka the “systems novel” or the “Mega-Novel”: length, encyclopedism, exuberance, polyphony, paranoia, ethical commitment, and hybrid realism. In other words, they’re long, dense, and ambitious, told from numerous points of view, interested in morality, awash in conspiratorial machinations, and framed in a narrative filled with over-the-top characters and unlikely scenarios.

May 3, 2026: finished re-reading after two months (and reading five other novels durring the process so I wouldn't hang myself).

Amazing, exhausting, depressing, uplifting, hilarious, bleak.  Two thirds of the way through (around page 600?), I slipped into a higher gear and read it much more easily, fluent with the characters and the settings, the diction, what passes for "plot". By the final pages, I was experiencing a touch of almost post-coital tristresse that it would soon be over. But was still relieved. And then had to go re-read the very first chapter, as that is the final "plot" moment - Hal is rendered speechless externally but alive internally.

I got much more out of it this time then I remember from previous readings/attempts - I followed it, I took my time, I read a ten-page online summary online that kept me (in retrospect) less at sea with the whole thing.

important terms: anti-confluential, annular, anhedonia

p. 157-169 - Inc Sr.'s (?) terribly long monolog to his son.

572 - annular fusion, annular chemotheraphy (a cancer that kills cancer)

685 - son raped by father

694-695 - hip, cynical, anhedonia, Weltschmerz, "the Great White Shark of pain," "It" - psychotic depression

765 - the Moms to Mario - disassociation, fear of one's own emotions

900 - Hamlet doubts everything/anything (is real) but the ghost

972 -  Orin's death by roaches - like my dream-poem about Michael

973 - "the truth will set you free but not until it's done with you" - one of the AA old-timers (the Crocodiles) to Gatel

1026 - footnote listing Inc Sr.'s film title - favorite one about plotlessness

1053 - footnote, Hal on loneliness

Vigil by George Saunders

 

Disappointed (so far) in this new novel - using the tropes of LINCOLN IN THE BARDO without any of the emotional zing (so far).

The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket by Edgar Allen Poe

 

Spell-binding. Was prompted to re-read this after reading an old journal entry of mine from freshman year of college, where, out of the blue, I read this for the first time - don't know why, wasn't studying it in a course at the time.

Anyway, it was just as good this time around - couldn't put it down, even though I'm in the midst of reading several other books. Part adventure story, part mystical journey, partly (rather boring) history of South Pole journeys.

The ending is particularly dramatic (not that all the starvation, murder, shipwrecks that precede it are UNdramatic), with its quasi-spiritual white clouds and whitening water and giant white human figure that rises up out of the mist.

Clairvoyant of the Small: The Life of Robert Walser by Susan Bernofsky

 

Ruth by Kate Riley

 

Strange, puzzling, powerful book, tracking a woman's interior and exterior life as part of a strict Anabaptist community in upper Michigan.

Ruth is a thinker - on the surface, a compliant (if bizarre) cult member, but underneath, in her thoughts, a poet and a puzzler and a rebel and resistor, rebellious the only place she can be, in her own mind.

The prose structure is almost all touched by the omnicscient narrator giving us Ruth's thoughts - but the narrator speaks in a much more abstract, formal, supremely-ironic tone of voice and vocabulary than does Ruth, when we actually hear her speak (which is not often).

Really liked the book - deceptively simple-looking, but the language and its levels of irony require a slow, deliberate, reading pace.

A child wa no longer a baby when he hit back. A child was no longer a baby when he knew how to use a comb. A child was no longer a baby when his mother had another child. By this last definition did Jamie and Rose Feder quit their statio, and by this last definition did Gretel Feder remain a baby her entire life. (166)

Makup allowed one to life without speaking. (216)

She had finally read Revelation, and for all the beasts, remembered best the description of a Heaven defined by the nouns it lacked: death, mourning, sorrow, tears. A modest facility in which mixed species could rest together without histrionics.