Ordinary language is all right.
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
Sasha points out the chapter of critical perspectives from the research report called Reporting the Arts II. Since it's not immediately apparent in the part I linked to and I wanted to know and had to find out for myself, I note that the study is an analysis of arts coverage in twenty daily newspapers funded by a bunch of PBS sounding dudes. (PS yo Catherine T. MacArthur I don't mean to imply that you are a dude, but if you are, like, that's cool too.) In the chapter linked to, there is a history of rock criticism by Christgau (a history written by him of all rock criticism, not a history written by him or someone else about his rock criticism), as well as Sasha's thing, called 'Subject/Object: Firsthand Knowledge in Criticism'.
I have nothing substantive to say about these at the moment, or ever, possibly. This is just a note for later.
I am taken enough by Haruki Murakami's books that I ought to be able to say something about them, but I've thought about them so little that I'm not sure that's possible.
When I was younger and read almost nothing that is conventionally considered literature I read at an astonishing pace; Murakami is more or less the only thing I now read that is still suited to that pace. It's more than obvious that his narrator character is more or less the same in every book; I don't know if it's that the fine details of the 'less' are what captivate me, or narcissistic identification with the 'more', or if I just don't care. I find myself hoping for more scenes with eating and drinking and sitting in bars and on reading them I wish my life were more the sort that meant I would be doing that, especially drinking, by myself, or when meeting someone, late at night in mostly empty joints ('joints') or in the middle of the day; I don't really see that there's anything keeping me from doing this, though - I just don't. I always used to sort of gloss over the sex in any of Murakami's books; at the time it was because I saw it as little more than arbitrary that they be included and used as a means of establishing certain relationships and interactions between the characters, as opposed to some other sort of action - but since in the past six months I've had the most intense sexual relationship I've ever had, I suddenly find myself more sympathetic to Murakami's aims. Sometimes when I think about the books I'd like to write I start to wonder if the only thing driving me to write them (understanding that word in its least driving sense) is the urge to have mentioned songs and people playing them, not necessarily with any great significance attached, like the Ellington song in South of the Border, West of the Sun, to pick a middle of the scale example, but just to have the people put a record on. The earlier books with lines in the blurbs, and thus in every review written about them, about hard-boiled thrillers, frequently make me worried that I am missing something that I need to go read Marlowe and Chandler for when I read a page and think, well that's kind of awkward. I don't especially think I'm learning anything interesting about Japan or Japanese culture when I read Murakami, and seeing other people talking as if it's otherwise for them gives me that deeply ingrained reaction where I want to dissociate myself from them and possibly even hide or suppress my own love for Murakami; this is not the only case in which I have this reaction. I think part of what makes Murakami's narratives moves so quickly is that they are written from the point of view of someone who lets things happen rather than making them happen. I wonder whether his affinity for detective stories has anything to do with the fact that often detectives have nothing to do but sit around and wait, possibly drink coffee or whiskey, have a bite to eat. There's enough of a pattern established now, especially over the past four or five years, for me to say that I tend to take out a Murakami novel and reread it (or maybe get a new one if that's possible) when I'm feeling depressed; it used to be that I would take one out when I was depressed in that particular way where I felt stuck and couldn't get anything done, and I could read an entire novel of Murakami's so quickly that the feeling of accomplishment, if that's it, would sustain me enough to get unstuck - but that's not true any more. At the moment I would be happy to be as effective as a Murakami narrator; even when their methodical resoluteness isn't emphasized as in Dance Dance Dance, they have a way of bringing themselves up, or getting themselves back in motion, by just doing what one does. Some critics found that Murakami couldn't keep his story going all through The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, that it was too much for him to resolve; that never really bothered me or occurred to me, which makes me wonder whether one really needs to think of a story as a thing that will convey anyone at all through to the end of a book, regardless of their interest or attraction to the writing otherwise. Murakami's not-quite-repetition makes me wish sometimes that I could just have one book that combined the right aspects of his other books in the appropriate ways, which puzzles me a little because the pattern he has established now bears some strong similarity to the pattern some of my favorite musicians established by making strings of same-but-different records that I am happier to have in their entirety without wishing for anything else but more records. I never worry about translation when I'm reading Murakami unless I've recently read a review where they mention it; when I'm reading anything else I can be so preoccupied with translation, since I read so many things not originally in English, that I even start mistakenly wondering about things that were originally in English. I would like to give copies of Norwegian Wood to people but I am not yet determined enough in my understanding of it, and especially don't want people to mistake me because the story involves a suicide. It's probably quite true that part of Murakami's appeal for me lies in narcissistic identification with the narrator, but the flaws in the narrator (and thus in me) that that narcissism blinds me to seem to me to be the kind only shallowly dismissable from the outside; if this means that someday I will change and give up on Murakami, I'm fine with that.
Well, a few things, then. A good start.
It may just be that I have been setting my sights too high at paragraphs rather than words.
I'm about eighty pages into Walden and I haven't seen much mention of sex yet. I reckon Thoreau would or will have something appropriately stoic and ascetic to say about it, whether it ends up being that he affirms it or denies it for some reason. I'm just curious because the passages in 'Economy' on clothing knocked me over, but not without my thinking back to all the slutty girls I saw out salsa dancing (or not) on Saturday night. Or did mating rituals only recently develop a place for fashion?
Among the stacks of books I needlessly buy (even those of us on the edges of commercialized life find ways to try to become by consuming), a lot of journals and diaries of famous dead people have slipped in in the past couple of years. I'm not totally sure why. High aspirations, I suppose. The hope that seeing the insides would give me an angle, a word of hope. But there's something nice in Brecht's journal from 1936 or so: a note that he stole the paper for his journal from work.
What I mean to suggest, though, is that if that performative impulse never disappeared, it's not so clear what the last fifteen years of their records (!) are supposed to mean.
The familiar story that holds that Sonic Youth followed fashion from album to album (somehow) always seems to ignore the performance art deadpan that their earlier records had. Did they stop taking that stance, or did it start showing up in different ways? Or, to put it another way, when did Sonic Youth start being sincere (or not)? Or stop? I think the trend-hopper line is meant to imply - I don't know what the difference would come to - either that they started trying to be sincere, trying to play along in their limited way ('now we're a grunge band! we're angry and full of hostile emotions! now we're hippies! all the world is aflower!'), and thus betraying their earlier kill-all-whatever, which was of course more punk and thus better; or that they stopped trying to be sincere, freeing them up to be able to pretend to all kinds of expressive alternatives closed off to their hazier, limited means of being true, holding fast. You know. Something like that.
'As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.'