What are you reading? - Page 400
And I do think he fails as a Prosodist of the Highest Order™, but like you said: many rooms, of which this one, and it's one that can even be enjoyed. I hadn't honestly considered the Jamesonian critique buried in American Psycho. That angle resonates with me.
You should follow this up with Arthur Koestler's Darkness at Noon.
I started reading A Brief History of Neoliberalism per a friend's recommendation. I know very little about economics aside from my macro class which basically taught some form of "a rising tide lifts all boats." Halfway through the book I still don't understand why and how stagflation was so rampant in the 70s, which Harvey seems to admit was the main factor in the rise of Reagan and Thatcher, but instead focuses on a conspiracy theory of the financial elite in America recruiting Republicans to help restore class power. I'm wondering if there are any good, recent works that give an opposing perspective to Harvey's. The book seems well-researched and soundly argued, but it jumps over things that I really would like more explanation about, mainly in why Keynesian policies stopped working, and whether there were any other alternatives besides neoliberalism to save the economy, and I guess why class disparity is so undesirable in the first place.
At accordion, others: Based on your (always solid) recs, I grabbed the two Nell Zinc books, and I'm pretty stoked, particularly as this was something I would have (and think did) pass over: Franzen's recommendations are usually too calculated and self-serving, and after a quick skim, nothing really kept off the page in terms of verbal wizardry -- but from your brief reviews I'm almost certain this will be another time the reading thread really comes through.
Reading-wise, I'm pretty much stuck in a rut. I read lit, I read poetry. I've begun reading novels *like* they are poetry, in the worst of ways. I insist that the language must be there, and in full force and full beauty -- but usually, when it is, the novels also seem to lack anything that might compel me to the end. Affairs, universities, illnesses, bleh. You know, people love to distinguish between lit-ra-ture and genre, but honestly, lit can like seem like a genre in the worst kind of way. There is definitely a grammar to it, a sequence almost like pornography, but without the payoff. The epiphany comes, then the awkward silence, then you're lying ruffled with the sheets and you're thinking, That was it..., and Again?, and wondering how long you're required to lie there before an exit doesn't seem too hasty....
To this end I continue to read Updike and DLilllo, but in small telegraphic bursts, and I'm still trying to expand. The Female of the Species, a book of 'mystery/suspense' stories by Joyce Carol Oates, has been mildly helpful. It's both lively and genre-y without being too self-conscious or condescending; the prose is very satisfying and each story is given a strong, but unique voice; it's JCO having a lot of fun, and in this way even reminds me of the best of Synthese(!).
Afterwards, I fear a return to boredom. Fun definitely needed. I fear I'm drowning. Someone lend me a hand. :-0
Edited by noob in 89 - 8/27/15 at 2:52pm