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Here's another author I was introduced to by a college teacher, through a few photocopied short stories distributed in a class. I decided to check out Braverman's first novel, a tale of addiction, unhappy relationships, and dysfunctional families in 1970s Los Angeles. At the time it was out of print (it's since been reissued), but I found this first edition copy online somewhere. The cover seems weirdly minimalist, though maybe that was the design trend at the time. (I do like the type treatment, but not the font of the author's name.)
A very young photo of the author on the back.
Asterios Polyp, is a professor and architect (though none of his designs have actually been built). After his home is struck by lightning and burns down, he flees to become an auto mechanic in the middle of nowhere, both location and occupation seemingly arrived at randomly.
The book alternates between present and past, including scenes from his childhood and failed marriage, as well as more abstract and imaginary scenes, such as those narrated by his stillborn twin brother, Ignazio, and digressions on aesthetic philosophy.
The characters are associated with a particular drawing style, color scheme, and visual motifs. This page makes me think of Will Eisner, maybe because of all the rain.
Also, I have to say that the characters have some pretty fancy digs. Even Asterios's parents live in an amazing midcentury house with Saarinen chairs and whatnot.
This seems like the type of book that you need to read a few times to absorb all of the layers and depths of meaning. I'm only on read #1. I'll have to let you know when I manage to find time for read #2.
Of all the books I've read over the years by Sartre, I think "No Exit" is probably the one that I was most engaged by. It's probably his most accessible, and maybe I was intrigued by the "Hell is other people" aspect. Though apparently that line has been misunderstood for years. According to Sartre:"'Hell is other people' has always been misunderstood. It has been thought that what I meant by that was that our relations with other people are always poisoned, that they are invariably hellish relations. But what I really mean is something totally different. I mean that if relations with someone else are twisted, vitiated, then that other person can only be hell. Why? Because. . . when we think about ourselves, when we try to know ourselves, . . . we use the knowledge of us which other people already have. We judge ourselves with the means other people have and have given us for judging ourselves. Into whatever I say about myself someone else’s judgment always enters. Into whatever I feel within myself someone else’s judgment enters. . . . But that does not at all mean that one cannot have relations with other people. It simply brings out the capital importance of all other people for each one of us."
I've never been to Mexico, even though I lived about four hours from the border for several years. After reading this dissection of the culture, politics, and mindset of Mexico City, I'm interested in checking it out, though I'm pretty sure I don't want to live there.
The author, David Lida, did just that--an American journalist, he decided to do some sightseeing during a layover at the airport, fell in love with the city, and within a few years he had moved there permanently. That was in 1990; the book is written with 18 years of experience, from the unique perspective of one who is both an insider and an outsider--someone who deeply understands the place and its inhabitants, yet who is not really of them exactly. From the lively outdoor markets and cantinas to the wave of kidnappings by people posing as taxi drivers (this happened to Lida, though he got lucky) to extreme sexual harassment ("I have heard three separate stories of women whose backs were the recipients of the ejaculate of guys who masturbated while riding [the subway]") to the cult of Santa Muerte, Lida portrays a place that sounds completely insane, in both good ways and bad.
I've been watching the work of illustrator Nigel Peake for a little while now--I've previously written on here about his Ghost Houses and one of his zines. This short collection of drawings is themed on maps, which I'm particularly interested in--though Peake's maps are not the typical kind.
From the book: "Documenting small time adventures and excursions outwith a mile radius from where I call home. From train rides facing backwards, to crammed bus rides in tiny hill-top towns, to bike rides through the backyards of Europe. Records of the vast, unyielding concrete miles of Shanghai, to the paths between mountains and forests in late night French countryside to the old paint splattered wooden floor in London that I sleep on from time to time. In addition to this there are also some imaginings of possible places - cities built from train tunnels and underground arches to invisible concrete cities."
I love the illustrations, the different interpretations of maps, the watercolor lettering, the colors.
"What makes Nigel's maps so beguiling is the delicate poise between politics and imagination. Each map, he says, is a 'fictional reality.'" (From an essay in the middle of the book)
Originally published in 1975, Mystery Train is Greil Marcus' first book, an examination of six bands and musicians, the overall thesis being that rock and roll provides a lens through which American culture can be interpreted. The subjects are divided into “ancestors”--a fairly unknown one-man band from the 30s and 40s named Harmonica Frank (Sun put out some of his records in the 50s), and legendary bluesman Robert Johnson--and “inheritors"--The Band, Sly & the Family Stone, Randy Newman, and Elvis Presley.When I mentioned to Dave that I was reading it, he very decidedly asserted that "I hate him." Seems he was deeply offended by Marcus' book Lipstick Traces, which compares the Sex Pistols to Dadaists, and stated that Marcus draws uninformed comparisons and writes it off as brilliance, and generally is very pretentious.Some of that might be true, and since I haven't read Lipstick Traces I can't say for certain. Mystery Train might be pretentious, but I enjoyed reading it--there's a bit of that comparison-drawing I just mentioned, but the writing is colorful and engaging, bestowing an almost mythical quality on the subjects. Sly Stone becomes a 70s-era Stagger Lee, and there's enough lore behind Robert Johnson's story before Marcus even gets to him. I might steer clear of Lipstick Traces, but this one's a keeper.
I've been wanting to delve more into textile printing lately, so I dug out this book that I've had sitting in my closet, more or less untouched, for about a year. I felt a little silly, as most of the techniques outlined seem so simple and easy that the fact that I haven't been using it points to pure laziness.
This spiral-bound book outlines various printmaking techniques, from stamping to stenciling to screenprinting, with basic descriptions of and suggestions for each method,
as well as specific projects employing each one.
The careful and clear step-by-step instructions also feature accompanying photographs.
I like the photos of all the various materials needed for each technique.
There's a little pouch in the back of the book containing all of Lena's designs, should readers wish to use them in their printing projects. While I like to come up with my own, it's a nice touch to include them--and a lot of the patterns are pretty nice. (My favorite is the one in the second image in this post.)
