I finished reading Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City.
It’s so… Just so. I was grabbed from the very first sentence. I like a good opening line, but I don’t remember ever being struck as hard as I was by this one:
You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning.
I’m not? Oh.
The second-person point of view is pulled off with great success in this novel, and there are so many moments of genuine poetry. The prose is beautiful, and the resonance McInerney has created by moments that in any other novel would threaten to be disparate…
I can’t write a genuine review of this, there’s too much already floating around out there and I’m not sure I have much to add. Just to say that I loved it, and heartily recommend it to you.
10/02/2012 at 6:52 pm
Just added it to my list … sounds wonderful!
12/02/2012 at 10:17 am
it’s Hannah and Elizabeth from work. We have nothing to say other than you should work Sundays from now on because we want it to be the dream team! Also there was a fire in a rubbish bin this morning and they evacuated the entire centre. It was highly amusing. See you soon! (I bought more nutella for the backroom today- this is Liz- and I will gladly exchange tablespoons for Whoopie cakes. Just kidding- you can have the nutella for nothing!) (pps. I heard that you recommended Carver to Hannah…this makes me love you just a little bit more as Carver is my god. What is your favourite? I think mine is What we Talk about When we Talk About Love. Though sometimes it is Little Things.)
ps II hey this is hannah now and i don’t really have anything else to add other than that nancy gave us these fun little cheesey rice biscuit things that are apparently healthy twisties…. they were possible the best thing about today excluding the fire drill. we miss you.
12/02/2012 at 10:24 am
Hi Elizabeth and Hannah –
You’re enabling my procrastination from writing. I can’t tell if I love that about you or not. It’s not you, it’s me.
I just sent Nancy a message with availabilities, and fingers crossed she’ll put me on Sundays. Dream Team would be great!
Fire drill sounds great. Totally missed out.
Carver: favourite story is “Why Don’t You Dance”…
I hope I helped make your working day go more quickly, guys. And thanks for boosting my hits.
12/02/2012 at 2:12 pm
Consider this non-procrastination inspiration. (my favorite combination of words ever)
These fish have no eyes
these silver fish that come to me in dreams,
scattering their roe and milt in the pockets of my brain.
But there’s one that comes-
heavy, scarred, silent like the rest,
that simply holds against the current,
closing its dark mouth against
the current, closing and opening
as it holds against the current.
12/02/2012 at 2:55 pm
I actually didn’t know Carver wrote poetry! That’s totally lovely.
You know about the Lish thing, right? If you don’t, you need to decide whether you want your heart a little broken but enlightened, and then we’ll have a Carver discussion.
12/02/2012 at 3:32 pm
Oh I don’t think I do If you meant ‘lush’ though, yes I know he was an asshole alcoholic. Artists always are! (slightly crazy, not lushes)
Carver wrote beautiful poetry! mum has the collection ‘All Of Us’ if you’d like to borrow it. This is another of my favorites:
Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.
Fear of the past rising up.
Fear of the present taking flight.
Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
Fear of electrical storms.
Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
Fear of dogs I’ve been told won’t bite.
Fear of anxiety!
Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
Fear of running out of money.
Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
Fear of psychological profiles.
Fear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.
Fear of my children’s handwriting on envelopes.
Fear they’ll die before I do, and I’ll feel guilty.
Fear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.
Fear of confusion.
Fear this day will end on an unhappy note.
Fear of waking up to find you gone.
Fear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.
Fear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.
Fear of death.
Fear of living too long.
Fear of death.
I’ve said that.