What are you reading?

[Sean]

I'm reading what you're typing too CP!

Well, I was...

[Andrew D]

I recently read a very interesting novel which I highly recommend: Perfume by Patrick Suskind (translated from the German by John E. Woods) (subtitled The Story of a Murderer).

Just by way of atmospherics:

In the period of which we speak, there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women. The streets stank of manure, the courtyards of urine, the stairwells stank of mouldering wood and rat droppings, the kitchens of spoiled cabbage and mutton fat; the unaired parlours stank of stale dust, the bedrooms of greasy sheets, damp featherbeds, and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber-pots. The stench of sulphur rose from the chimneys, the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries, and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth, from their bellies that of onions, and from their bodies, if they were no longer very young, came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. The rivers stank, the marketplaces stank, the churches stank, it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. The peasant stank as did the priest, the apprentice as did his master's wife, the whole of the aristocracy stank, even the King himself stank, stank like a rank lion, and the Queen like an old goat, summer and winter.

Against that background, Suskind has painted a marvelous tale. As one reviewer put it, "His reeking pages offer ... a sly denunciation of human depravity, an exercise in the chillingly surreal and an excursion into the stink and sweetness of old France". Another reviewer described it as a "masterly blend of delerious self-disgust and bland irony [which] never falters," and a third reviewer described it as a "meditation on the nature of death, desire and decay". Yet another reviewer described it as "witty, stylish and ferociously absorbing ... menace conveyed with all the power of the writer's elegant unease".

I find it difficult to review a book wthout giving it away. Trust me though: If you read Perfume, it will be a long time before you forget Jean-Baptiste Grenouille.

[Rick]

I guess Perfume is a little ironic...

[Andrew D]

More than a little.

If I may quote another review: "An astonishing tour de force both in concept and execution".

It is a brilliant novel.

If I could go to my grave written something this good, I would be singing happily in my coffin ....

[Gob]

Why wait?

[Andrew D]

Because there are so many others who deserve the first-place laurels?

Really, Gob, what the fuck has happened to you lately?

Wishing that someone would kill himself? That is not like you.

Or is it?

Maybe I have misinterpreted things ....

[Andrew D]

In a thread about reading material, I offer my positive opinion of a novel which I heartily recommend to everyone.

I get shat on. Not -- certainly not -- by everyone, but shat on nonetheless.

Why?

[Rick]

I recently read a very interesting novel which I highly recommend: Perfume by Patrick Suskind (translated from the German by John E. Woods) (subtitled The Story of a Murderer).

Just by way of atmospherics:

In the period of which we speak, there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women. The streets stank of manure, the courtyards of urine, the stairwells stank of mouldering wood and rat droppings, the kitchens of spoiled cabbage and mutton fat; the unaired parlours stank of stale dust, the bedrooms of greasy sheets, damp featherbeds, and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber-pots. The stench of sulphur rose from the chimneys, the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries, and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth, from their bellies that of onions, and from their bodies, if they were no longer very young, came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. The rivers stank, the marketplaces stank, the churches stank, it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. The peasant stank as did the priest, the apprentice as did his master's wife, the whole of the aristocracy stank, even the King himself stank, stank like a rank lion, and the Queen like an old goat, summer and winter.

Against that background, Suskind has painted a marvelous tale. As one reviewer put it, "His reeking pages offer ... a sly denunciation of human depravity, an exercise in the chillingly surreal and an excursion into the stink and sweetness of old France". Another reviewer described it as a "masterly blend of delerious self-disgust and bland irony [which] never falters," and a third reviewer described it as a "meditation on the nature of death, desire and decay". Yet another reviewer described it as "witty, stylish and ferociously absorbing ... menace conveyed with all the power of the writer's elegant unease".

I find it difficult to review a book wthout giving it away. Trust me though: If you read Perfume, it will be a long time before you forget Jean-Baptiste Grenouille.

I can see how one might be fascinated by it, might try it one day.

Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. Dark humor indeed...

[Andrew D]

I recently read another good one: Bone House by Betsy Tobin.

Not as intriguing, in my estimation, as Perfume, but still a good read.

Her death has made us numb. Dora, the great-bellied woman, lies frozen in the ground. And like some part we've lost to frostbite, our minds still reach for her. The men of the village wear a wandering look in their eyes. They forget their work, leaving their tools lying idle, drink to excess, then roam like dogs until they drop in the mud. Even the women are uneasy, for though she was one of us, we could never hope to fill her shoes. The great-bellied woman, with her door-wide hips and plate-sized breasts, was more woman than we could ever be. We even envied her belly: her great, laden belly, filled wth the fruits of her whoring.

A good read.

[Andrew D]

Is anyone here familiar with The Dwarves series by Markus Heitz (translated by Sally-Ann Spencer)?

I've read The Dwarves and The War of the Dwarves, and I've heard that there is a third novel.

Any opinions?