Tag: reading

Cousin Pons to the rescue

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Cousin Pons book cover
This is the Cousin Pons book cover. Elegant, don’t you think? This edition was published in the US in 1950.

I was super excited to pick up three paperbacks at off-beat independent bookstores recently: The Dog of the South by Charles Portis, The Human Stain by Philip Roth and Cruising Paradise by Sam Shepard. I read the Roth book and did not like the plot or characters at all, but his writing style captured my attention. I bet he was never edited because he goes on and on. Anyway, since he died kind of recently, I wanted to remind myself why so many people think he’s great. I’m not a fan.

I like The Dog of the South mostly because it’s funny, but now that I’m further into it, the story is feeling superficial, as if it was written really fast. Only the Sam Shepard book is surviving my picky judgement. It’s got humor, good writing, unpredictable characters and … a lot of feeling.

In the middle of a recent hot Sunday, I wanted not just good but great writing to help me escape into another world, and I did not trust any modern writer to have this ability. So I turned to the shelf where I keep a lot of books from my parents’ house. These books are dusty and old, really old.

I pulled out Cousin Pons by De Balzac. Some people are crazy for him, so I opened it up.

Divine writing. Superb.

I’m swept up into the minute description of the curious clothing worn Sylvain Pons as he walks down the boulevard to the amusement of Parisian onlookers. This goes on for pages and it’s utterly compelling. I can’t break down the elements of this style, but I am so happy, and relieved, to be carried along by such a fine writer.

I will let you know how it holds up as I keep going, but something tells me it will.

 

Alone with the heart howling

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Have you heard of Jack Gilbert? An unusual, soulful poet who died in 2012. Look at his face—he looks like he’s suffered but still has a nice smile. I believe it’s good idea to start the day by reading poetry like his, rather than self help books, for one important Ninety-nine point nine percent of self help books are horribly written.

Perfectly fine advice about meditating twice a day, for instance, will be wiped out by trite sentences, incorrect grammar and limited vocabulary.

Wouldn’t we all be better off reading a few pages of great literature or even a bleak but well-written poem?

You have to admire this one by Jack Gilbert entitled “Between Aging and Old,” even if it is a bit dark:

 

I wake up like a stray dog

belonging to no one.

Cold, cold, and the rain.

Friendships outgrown or ruined.

And love, dear God, the women

I have loved now only names

remembered: dead, lost, or old.

Mildness more and more the danger.

Living among rocks and weeds

to guard against wisdom.

Alone with the heart howling

and refusing to let it feed on

mere affection. Lying in the dark,

singing about the intractable

kinds of happiness.

 

Somehow this poem opens my mind and creates the chance that I will have a good day—the true magic of poetry.

Great first line

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“But I never finished telling you about the two men.”

This is one of my favorite first lines because it sounds like there’s been a whole conversation going on before this story starts. It’s from the Denis Johnson story called “The Other Man.”

Generally, I don’t prefer crude writers who glamorize violence and misery, which are often accompanied by ill treatment of women, but some, like Johnson, include redemption in their writing, and that I love.

One of the remaining bookstores in L.A. called Book Soup is holding a tribute to Denis Johnson on Thursday evening, 7 p.m. I’m going!