#62 - Giovanni's Room - James Baldwin (Choice: Carl's)(Venue: Balans, 60 Old Compton St)

7th February
Present: Carl, Alex, Nathalie, Gill, Jane, Jen

I was dismayed to miss this gathering because I've never been to Balans proper, only to the cafe down the road which was but a pale imitation of the original, if the reputation (i.e. word of Carl and Alex) that precedes the original is to be believed.  So, I envisage that, this night, the cocktails flowed freely and the food was enjoyed by all, which is quite my favourite kind of night.

I was also, of course, disappointed to miss what has been reported as an excellent discussion, with Gill, in particular, allegedly vocal in her strong dislike of the protagonist.  And who can blame her?  Certainly not me. 

David lied to Giovanni, to Hella, to Jacques, to his father, to himself.    He was selfish, thoughtless, dishonest and mean-spirited.  Few of the other characters fared much better: Hella was trite and would have been easily dismissed had she not exuded a level of homophobia that made her decidedly unattractive; Guillaume was simply horrible, leaving the reader (well, me) quite unmoved at his violent end; Giovanni was a preening peacock contrarily riddled with insecurities and unreasonably demanding; and Sue was a self-made victim albeit with a level of awareness and sadness that engendered some symathy for her poor treatment by vile David.  Jacques, for me, was the character who was most sympathetic; he was the first character with whom I engaged and the only one for whom I felt a glimmer of emotion.  As Jacques questioned David about why David found his lifestyle so sordid, I empathised with Jacques and with the lifestyle he was forced to live by the prejudices that surrounded him and the fears that consequently crippled his emotional and physical life and the lives of those with whom he might otherwise have found happiness instead of brief and nervous relief. 

The Paris and the time portrayed in this novel were bleak and depressing.  Theses people lived underground, fearful and guarded, hiding their true selves from most people, unaccepted in society and largely unaccepting of themselves.  Bleak, bleak times from which it is easy, living in London and working in Soho, to think that we have moved on.  However, London in general and Soho in particular are not reflective of the whole of the UK and the UK is, in any event, a million miles removed from many other places in the world.  In the USA, according to a map doing the rounds on Facebook, there are significantly more States where you can legally marry your first cousin than your same-sex partner; whilst much of Africa outlaws homosexuality and Uganda debates an anti-gay bill that would introduce the death penalty or life imprisonment for certain "offences".  Last night on UK television, Milo Yiannopoulos, a gay Christian writer for the Catholic Herald left me with the impression he found homosexuality distateful and shaming in much the way as the characters in this book so perhaps things haven't changed as much as we would like.  Milo did not come across as a happy man and his religion appeared to offer no comfort and, perhaps, the opposite.  So this tiny tome has contemporary as well as historical resonance and is all the more depressing for it. 

The dispiriting nature of the book was amplified, for me, because it was so dense and verbose. David seemed able to reflect interminably upon his life but without gaining any insights into his nature, without any intention of changing, and without giving any regard to the place of others within his life or to the effect he may have had upon them.  Having such an unattractive protagonist makes it hard for me to engage with a book. 

The book did not tell us what actually happened to Guillaume, only what David said he could picture, speculate at having happened.  He was little enough friend to Giovanni at any time but how much less at the end than ever before.  Here's what I like to think: David killed Guillaume and framed Giovanni to rid himself of two unpleasant reminders of a past (and unlived future) he chose to hide.  Oooh, he's starting to become a villian I could love to hate. 

This might be one of those books that gets better the more one thinks about it and discusses it: more enjoyable with hindsight than in the moment.

#51 - The Empire of the Ants - Bernard Werber (Choice: Carl's)(Venue: Cafe des Amis, Covent Garden)

Present: Carl, Nic, Jen, Jane
Fourmis ... Formidable ... formidably awful.
How can ants be the most advanced society when they walk around barefooted in goodness knows what and then lick each other and eat each other's regurgitated pre-digested food? I can't buy it (regrettably I did) and I really do not care about asexual ant 103,683 or any of her colleagues. Worst part? For me, the quip about having to be good at jigsaws because the ants were in so many pieces after one of the attacks. For Carl, the conversation between ants and glow worms marked a low point. The best bit? The fact that Jane actually thought it might be good after we ran the plot past her at this evening!
Can't recall anyone else having a kind word.

Nathalie:

Excellent wordsmithing Nic! And admirable persistence in getting to the end of the book. It was a rotter!

Mentioned to someone that I might need to get my eyes tested as hear that you can't concentrate on reading when your eyesight is going. They said that yes, that happens, then asked what the book was like I was reading. That explained everything.

Even the bits in between the pages about the 42nd soldier (which I ended up skipping anyway) were flimsy and weird. I think the only person who was impressed with that vast (and slightly unhealthy) knowledge on ants was the author himself.

Went in the bin unfinished.

Books we are not reading

A few photos carried over from Facebook to remind us why we're here.  Copyright Mark and Carl (unless Waterstones and Smiths have other ideas).

#38 - The Outsider - Albert Camus (Choice: Carl's)(Venue: My house)

Present: Nic, Jennie, Shubha, Carl, Mark, Alessandro, Alex

Ah, the best venue and food of the year ... (Joke!)

An interesting, existential read, perhaps nihilistic? The narrator is emotionally detached: doesn't cry at his mother's funeral; doesn't judge anyone (arguably not a flaw); randomly / nonsensically kills an man on the beach and shows no remorse. Life seems to be without reason or emotion. 

For me, the remarkable detachment of the narrator induced detachment in the reader. I little cared what happened to him or to anyone else as he had no real interest so was unable to enthuse me. 

The book was deceptively simple, the language perfunctory and simplistic, reading like a young child's post-holiday essay, a list of things done and undone - "and then I got up and I didn't have any food so I didn't have breakfast. I didn't have anything to do so I looked out the window and there were people there but then they went away." 

Alessandro and Jen read this in the original French and felt the language was carefully chosen, even beautiful. I didn't really get that sense from the translation, which was sparse but seemed unexceptional.

In short, for me, some slight academic interest but no emotion, no compulsion to read on, no great disappointment at reaching the end. On the whole, people found it interesting but I cannot remember whether anyone really enjoyed it ...?

#29 - Pastoralia - George Saunders (Choice: Carl's)(Venue: El Cantara, Frith Street)

#22 - The Book with No Name - Anonymous (Choice: Carl's)(Venue: The Tapioca Bar aka Garlic and Shots)

#15 - the Post Office - Charles Bukowski (Choice: Carl's)(Venue: Patara, Greek Street)

#8 - The Interpretation of Murder - Jed Rubenfeld (Choice: Carl's)(Venue: the Czech and Slovak Club)