Ten posts from a month spent diving into literature—wild autobiographies, Sicilian princes, contemporary French fiction, and reflections on Paris in summer.
This book from 1968 stayed hidden from French readers until Monsieur Toussaint Louverture decided to translate it. Frederick Exley delivers what he calls a "fictional autobiography"—basically a howl of fury wrapped in pages. It's raw, unhinged, and absolutely unforgettable.
"Because God made for you only a perishable world." In 410 AD, the Visigoths ransacked Rome. That event shook Christianity to its core and inspired Saint Augustine to write his famous sermon. Ferrari picks up that thread centuries later in this powerful novel from the 2012 literary season.
The signs are everywhere: Paris-Plages has packed up its umbrellas, the President's back at his desk, leaves are turning yellow. It's that time again—not just one return, but several: governmental, academic, and of course, literary. Here's what I'm tracking this fall.
"Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae." No one embodies Sicilian aristocracy better than Prince Fabrizio Corbera de Salina—arrogant, languid, watching with detached anxiety as Garibaldi lands in Sicily in 1860. This novel captures a world collapsing under its own weight.
"The mail coach arrived at nightfall with its armed guard on the seat and its meager load of closed faces. Chevalley de Monterzuolo also descended, immediately recognizable by his bewildered appearance and his cautious little smile..." Diving into Sicilian literature this week.
I caught the new Jane Eyre film recently. Pretty enough, though I left frustrated. Even Michael Fassbender's considerable charm (too young, too handsome for Mr. Rochester) couldn't make me believe in this version. Time to revisit the book.
Flo gave me this book years ago when I returned from my first trip to China. It sat on my shelf forever (shame on me) until this summer, when I pulled it out before another China trip. Verdier's journey into Chinese calligraphy is mesmerizing.
When we think of Siberia, we shiver—not just from imagining the cold, but because for two centuries it was the Russian government's favorite dumping ground for dissidents and prisoners. Tesson explores this vast, frozen territory with his characteristic intensity.