'No one is strong enough or cunning enough to avert by word or deed the misfortune that is rooted in the iron laws of his character and his life.'

Welcome to Issue 7 of the 2PoundPaperback – your weekly dose of book-related insights, book news, and updates on my writing projects.

I've extended the 'reading' and 'writing' sections in this issue, in line with an experiment that I'm continuing into next week. Oh, and the above quote comes from one of my favourite novels, Embers.

What I'm Reading:

Embers by Sándor Márai.

I'm constantly surprised that Embers isn't more famous in the English speaking world, though I suppose it's better known in Hungary, where it bears the more apt title, A gyertyák csonkig égnek (candles burn until the end). I've read parts of this book over and over again, but after turning to it for some ideas about structure, I decided to re-read it in full.

The basic set up is as follows. The elderly General, who lives in a castle in a forest, has led a monk like existence since his middle years. The castle is described as mausoleum like, with most of it remaining unused for decades – 41 years, specifically. The General does not leave the castle. Guests to his nearby hunting lodge are greeted by his staff; letters addressed to him are answered by others in his name. But one letter he does open – it is written by Konrad, whom he has not seen in 41 years. Tonight, Konrad will have dinner at the castle.

For the first half of the novel, the narrative mediates between past and present. The timing is what is so perfect. The reader is, one the one hand, totally immersed in the glory of an old Vienna – but, on the other, never allowed to forget the bearing of the present. In the second half of the novel, we get a monologue of Shakespearean proportion.

Perhaps the most interesting feature of Embers, consists in the gap between what the characters say and what they do. The General spends pages and pages telling us he wants the truth from Konrad – that he has waited 41 years to hear it; that this waiting alone has kept him alive – and yet, at no point, right until the end, does he stop talking and give Konrad a chance to respond.

Anyway, go read it. It's fantastic.

What I'm Writing:

Manuscript.

As I've said previously, I'm working on making my novel substantially shorter. To this end, I'm conducting a seance in which I repeat 'the thing successfully foreshortened' and try to summon the spirit of Henry James.

But I'm also using a lot more summary than I did before. There was very little summary in my earlier drafts. Summarising, rather than dramatising, somehow felt like cheating.

This, I think, is one of the strongest biases in contemporary literature. Writers dramatise far more of a novel than they did twenty or fifty years ago. There are many contemporary novels in which everything is in-scene. Knausgaard is perhaps the best example of this sort of hyper-naturalism.

This isn't necessarily good or bad. But it strikes me that the contemporary novel comes more and more to resemble the play.

I'm also having some thoughts about the structure of this newsletter. For me, the heart of it is the 'reading' and 'writing' bits, and I might try a slightly different structure next week.

If you have strong thoughts about your favourite or least-favourite parts, you can write me at shapiro.blake@gmail.com

Book News:

Fortunately, nothing Trump or AI related: Yael van der Wouden has won the Women's Prize for her novel, The Safekeep. Imagine beating out Miranda July with your debut!

The Safekeep is set in 1960s Netherlands and has much to do with the position of Dutch Jews in the post-WW2 era. The main plot is to do with the reclusive protagonist's brother's girlfriend moving in, and the movement of the protagonist's repulsion to attraction.

A New Release:

The Great Mann by Kyra Davis Lurie.

This has just released. The Great Mann is a retelling of The Great Gatsby set in Sugarhill, Los Angeles in 1945. Dubbed 'Black Gatsby,' the novel's milieu is African American business moguls and movie stars.

I'm inclined to dislike Gatsby adaptions on principle. There are simply too many of them (see this list I made). However, in discussing adaptations, Davis Lurie uses the example of the song 'Hurt' by Nine Inch Nails, and its Johnny Cash cover, which won me over.

Question:

A longstanding view about art is that the greatest examples of a form maximise the use of the unique features of that form. This comes up in Baudelaire's salons and also in James Wood's book, How Fiction Works, particularly with regard to the novel being able to represent an interior reality that other forms can't.

But my question is, well, is this actually true?

It makes sense for Ulysses, because what good could a film do in representing 700 pages of stream of consciousness of people walking around Dublin? But on the other hand, novels like Gatsby, have survived in our consciousness largely because they lend themselves so easily to adaptation.

Thanks for reading! If you're enjoying the 2PoundPaperback and want to help me out: ethical plagiarism is encouraged. Take some screenshots and force them on your friends :)

Much love and see you on Monday,

Blake