Category Archives: books

Renovation

And the work goes on and on on and on…

 

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Narratorial Unreliability

Christian Mihai discusses his ideas on unreliable narrators, something he likes to see writers use, and a technique he says he uses himself. Still, he misses a fundamental point – all narrators, storytellers, dramatists, poets, are unreliable. From Homer, Shakespeare to Sartre, no writer tells, gets close to ‘the truth’, even if he or she is prepared to die in the process of collecting all the observable details of a factually based fiction.

Catherine Lacey

Do we trust Tolstoy’s account of Napoleon in War and Peace? Perhaps… if we are Russian.

Narrator unreliability doesn’t have to be a first person account, though the most obvious modernist exploitations of narrator unreliability in fiction use that form. The best approach – for this writer at least – is when the writer sets out to deceive us, and by convincing us that he or she has told the truth, transfers any doubt on narratorial reliability to a reader’s interpretation of the tale.

The Blue Roads of Cannes

Away from the homages, special screenings, classic films, away from the red carpet ride to that palace of dreams, away from the Cinema Paradiso deep in the watery hearts of those days of ‘how it used to be before they built the new Palais.’ Away from the game before it became the game it is “guarded by thin-lipped security experts..” (Roger Ebert).

Away from: This is a business after all, bringing in hundreds of millions (billions) annually. Away from the other Cannes down in the concrete heated bowels of an airless bunker where the sharp weave themselves into tongued-tied hoarse and whispery tanglings over business fits and contracts and suits.

Away from the silver screen stars of present and past, Charles Bronson and Miss Piggy, Arnold, Bruce, Brad, Brigitte, Mel, Kirk, Michael, Woody or Penelope, away from the belle epoque hotel suites and facades, away from yachts as big as small apartment blocks stock stilled by the importance of those they house out in the wide bay, away from those gleaming bright decks, practiced sunglasses, strategic smiles, away from trained binocularists, the annual crush and cheap ticket ride along the promenading, skateboard Croisette, away from the blinding baroque plaster, the guest only dinners, friend-of-a-friend-who-knows-a-friend ticket-only beach parties, away from the clickety-click crush of pass-only photo shoots, prized seats under the balcony, away from ‘go easy I’m-not-wearing-makeup’, away from  the bright-new-glory of my-new-found-fame, those bullish, brave, belligerent and bereft smiles, away from the silent jeering, away from the exclusion zones out in the streets.

Away from get away from who-are-you-and-who-do-you-know big films and titles, away from that winnowy fame and limouey celebrity, over in the back blue road of Mediterraneanised cinema, over in – I only hole up in the dark to witness creative endeavour – over in this other plane and train load of tourist-class, over in the world you mostly will never hear talk long enough to remember how to forget, over in the altogether smaller world of Un Certain Regard, with a jury presided over by Tim Roth.

Among the yet no-so unfamous such as Benicio DEL TORO, Pablo TRAPERO, Julio MEDEM,  Elia SULEIMAN, Juan Carlos TABIO, Gaspard NOÉ et Laurent CANTET with 7 DIAS EN LA HABANA @ 2h and 5m,  four first-filmers, Brandon Cronenberg (yes, that Cronenberg) with ANTIVIRAL @ 1h and 50m, Ashim AHLUWALIA with MISS LOVELY  @ 1hr 50m, and Juan Andrés Arango with LA PLAYA @ 1h and 30m.

Roth’s own brit pack ever-repressed to boiling anger ride through names and changes in life and cinema from Dulwich to Los Angeles via works by Mike Leigh, Stephen Frears, Peter Greenaway, Robert Altman, Quentin Tarantino, Nic Roeg, John Sayles, Wim Wenders, Tim Burton, Woody Allen, Werner Herzog and Francis Ford Coppola seems to offer interesting, experimental possibilities as what might emerge as the final choice.


							

where is “Bukowski” by Swimanog listed on Google

  1. fiction | Swimanog

    swimanog.wordpress.com/category/fiction/

    11 Mar 2012 – His first book was a translation of Charles Bukowski’s The Days Run Away ….. “[I] found the order (or found the copy on Google Book Search 🙂

    You’ve visited this page 2 times. Last visit: 15/04/12 (did I? My memory must be playing tricks…)
  2. politics | Swimanog

    swimanog.wordpress.com/category/politics/

    19 Feb 2012 – I am writing to point out Google’s association – inadvertent association, http://swimanog.wordpress.com I put the post up on 18th May, 2009. (was it worth it?)

  3. postmodernism | Swimanog

    swimanog.wordpress.com/category/postmodernism/

    11 Mar 2012 – “[I] found the order (or found the copy on Google Book Search 🙂 …. and artists listed in the book’s acknowledgements starting with ABBA!). (Why not begin with ABBA?)

  4. Blogroll | Swimanog | Page 2

    swimanog.wordpress.com/category/blogroll/page/2/

    17 Aug 2010 – It was Bukowski’s birthday (16th August) – the LA Times alerted me. …. “[I] found the order (or found the copy on Google Book Search 🙂 …. hundred authors and artists listed in the book’s acknowledgements starting with ABBA! (ditto)

  5. Louisiana Alba (Author of Uncorrected Proof)

     Rating: 4 – 3 votes

    28 Jun 2009 – My blog – posts on Bukowski, Fellini, GFC and many more. Http://swimanog.wordpress.com read more » · 0 comments …. A good overview, that puts Google in perspective, answering many questions if not all. Dec 07, 2011 … (now putting Google in perspective…?)

  6. LiteraryMinded – Part 45

    blogs.crikey.com.au/literaryminded/page/45/

    26 Sep 2008 – internet multinationals, such as Yahoo, Google, Cisco and Microsoft, ….. Roald Dahl and moved on to Charles Bukowski—go figure—so they … (yes, so they..)

  7. Bret Easton Ellis in Australia | LiteraryMinded

    literaryminded.wordpress.com/tag/bret-easton-ellis-in-australia/

    20 Aug 2010 – as akin to an LA literary tradition, with people like Fante and Bukowski…. RT @nztaylor: On blog: Google Ebooks launches in Australia with

  8. Top Pictures – bukowski

    en.topictures.com/bukowski

    5+ items – Top Pictures: bukowski, Image search results giving you the top

    Charles Bukowski – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia jpg – 220×190 Charles
    Bukowski | Swimanog jpg – 300×517 Bukowski
  9. სურათები – bukowski

    ka.bestpicturesof.com/bukowski

    5+ items – სურათები : bukowskiGoogle გამოსახულებებიდან, bing-იდან

    Don’t blame Bukowski for bad poetry | Books | guardian jpg – 460×300
    Bukowski | Swimanog jpg – 300×517
    I began a search on Google to see whether all the people (listed as hits) actually did see my post on Bukowski and after going through 17 Google pages and not arriving at my post I gave up…I thought I could be in a capsule hurtling out somewhere further into the outer universe saying hello, hello.? Now, self-referencing has some sense, maybe not much sense, but some at least, more sense than ending up on page 107 on Google…Watching Damien Hirst talk about himself brought it all home. We endlessly auto-reference. Click on the links for ‘Damien Hirst’ and then on ‘himself’ a few seconds, maybe a minute later and play them simulacrously but starting at different points. Somehow to hear Hirst in disjointed stereo makes more sense (at least to me) 
    http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/video/2012/apr/16/damien-hirst-tate-modern-exhibition-tour-video
    The need to reinvent everything endlessly…
      

One Writer’s Journey

I grew up watching Superman, The Cisco Kid, O.S.S., hearing war stories, chasing down moth-eaten army uniforms back when milk arrived in a horse and cart marvelling at the colour style of actual coca leaf sugarpop in Coke bottles blinking at motor cycles Dick Van Dyke falling over a couch cowboy films shot in daylight B/W then coloured nights of my father’s home-grown vegetables, born with words in my mouth – ‘gimme-that’ , ‘how-dare-you’,  ‘what-the-fuck’ –

– ideas as fixed and eternal as the motives for every war, growing into Kidnapped bicycles desert boots Seventy Seven Sunset Strip Disney Land Rear Window Psycho Lawrence of Arabia, the annual anxiety of packing the car at holiday time, each and every moment stilled in memory of the forever mysterious parodies of life or art even if parodies weren’t even an option back then. I knew the Beatles before the Monkees, Bogart before Belmondo, but I can’t say I recall the idea behind the Summer of ’42 before it was a film conjured into a Mad magazine parody or whether it co-existed in the smash crash and kill dinky toy mind of George W. Bush. I believe I’m not alone, even growing more bewildered year on year by the incoherence of images and texts surrounding me from birth arresting my natural river environment in the far southern climes the commercial and cultural ink-blotting over my childhood my natural world a parody of some story my mother told me, those seconds on a baked sidewalk hearing JFK was dead, pink socks on the rock ‘n rollers, moments things events sounds sent to make life even more dangerous curious frightening, a direct result of the industrial military complex, Elvis Presley Chuck Berry even, the jack shit political influences beaten into the worrying shame of death in the world, prejudice, organically connected and woven into a general valueness held dear by so many years on from that day when morality was gunned down in broad daylight.

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