I've just finished the fourth of nine books that I have to read for my summer graduate class on the 20th Century Global Novel. Each of these first four have had atmosphere in spades. In fact, at times, that's all they are is atmosphere. Is it a symptom of explaining the aftershocks of 19th century colonialism and the societies that have risen from the ashes? What I think I mean is, are they so resonant with the atmosphere of their respective settings in an effort to capture and reflect that underlying culture? I'm not sure. But I'm fascinated by these lyrical authors who evoke Place so well. And the main issue in each so far has been power - whether it is a cultural clash, gender clash, familial relations clash - a lot of it seems to come down to power: who used to have it, who has it now - and how the newly empowered are often no better than their predecessors. Among other things. All I can say so far, and I just wanted to spell some of this out for myself, is Holy Wow. Pretty amazing books. I LOVED J.M. Coetzee's Disgrace and Michael Ondaatje's Anil's Ghost and really liked Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea. I have more mixed feelings about Jamaica Kincaid's Annie John but it was drenched in atmosphere.
So, now for my "what the hell" moment: I looked up some critical reviews on each of the books and just have a bone to pick with these "literary" personages of The New York Times book review, especially this guy: http://www.nytimes.com/books/00/05/14/reviews/000514.14ederlt.html. What the F is this even saying? Honestly. This is just bad writing. It says nothing but has a lot of stylistic pyrotechnics. Someone ought to punch this guy. I'm just sayin'.
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