Literary Chicago: Ernest Hemingway - "The Snows of Kilimanjaro And Other Stories"

Sigh. Some things never change.

"Listen," the detective said. "This isn't Chicago. You're not a gangster. You don't have to act like a moving picture. It's all right to tell who shot you. Anybody would tell who shot them. That's all right to do. Suppose you don't tell who he is and he shoots somebody else. Suppose he shoots a woman or a child. You can't let him get away with that. You tell him," he said to Mr. Frazer. "I don't trust that damn interpreter."

"I am very reliable," the interpreter said. Cayetano looked at Mr. Frazer.

"Listen, amigo," said Mr. Frazer. "The policieman says that we are not in Chicago but in Hailey, Montana. You are not a bandit and this has nothing to do with the cinema."

"I believe him," said Cayetano softly. "Ya lo creo."

 - from The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio

"What's he going to do?"
"Nothing."
"They'll kill him."
"I guess they will."
"He must have got mixed up in something in Chicago."
"I guess so," said Nick.

- from The Killers

Rachel Kushner - 'Telex From Cuba'

First thing I've read by Kushner. It was highly acclaimed in 2008 when it was released and a finalist for the National Book Award. Naturally, I was skeptical, but every bit of praise for this book is well deserved. The story follows multiple characters in Cuba leading up to the revolution of 1959 which found the US backed Batista overthrown by Fidel Castro. The book reveals tensions between the Cubans that worked in the sugar cane fields run by US expats...sorry, US *immigrants*. Much of the perspectives are through the children of these wealthy families, often having fled the US for various legal reasons, or have lived a life in limbo throughout various Latin and Central American countries.

Kushner's writing fulfills all of the senses. Not a scene passes without her describing the various smells and sounds of the country and its people, about the myriad colors that lend themselves to the landscape. There are lyrical flourishes on every page, such as "the wind gusted like a personality" or "it was an afternoon of time outside of time."

But these subtle flourishes don't allow themselves to dominate the story either. Each character, whether the naive children, drunk housewives, a cabaret dancer, Cuban militants, or a secretive French agitator, are fully formed with reflective, philosophical thoughts bubbling throughout the narrative. Of course, some characters are more receptive to these philosophical inquiries than others that would rather deny the painful truths, and the impending revolution about to take place.

Tony Fitzpatrick and Spring

Last night I attended part of a Words+Music event at the Empty Bottle. Unexpectedly, the event seemed to had started on time, so I missed readings by JR Nelson and Jim DeRogatis. But I did see Jessica Hopper read her review of Miley Cyrus's Bangerz, and manage to hear the illuminant Tony Fitzpatrick read some recent articles of his that will appear in the forthcoming book Dime Stories that collects his column from New City over the past few years.

I've seen Fitzpatrick read at one of these events before, and have seen him perform elsewhere. He is a Chicago writer through and through: Nelson Algren and Mike Royko have undeniably left their mark on Fitzpatrick. If, as Ernest Hemingway states, "you should not read [Algren] if you cannot take a punch," then know that Algren's protege is an even more formidable wielder of the written word. His vulgar wit and sardonic humor are instantly recognizable, and have little match in the ring of literature.

And yet, Fitzpatrick seemed a little off his game this evening, as if the gloves weren't on as tight as usual. True to form, he was conscious of this unlikely wavering in his reading. He reminded the audience of his heart surgery a few months ago before reading a post-surgery reflection on life (appropriately titled, It's Spring).

The piece he read aloud has been on my mind since I first read it a few weeks back. The main point of it is to not let the little bullshit of life stack up and distract you from what you want to accomplish. This doesn't mean over-worry yourself with work however. For Tony, it means going to more baseball games, spending more time with his family, going for more walks, enjoying every breeze, the flowers, the birds; "put your cell phone in a drawer." It's a transition for Tony, even so late in life, from hanging up the gloves to finding more poetic ways to reassert how necessary it is to stop and smell the cliche roses; a lover yet still a fighter.

For my part, I've been creating a list of new places - restaurants, art galleries, bars, cultural institutions, old buildings - that I want to explore in and around the city, in neighborhoods I'm already familiar with and ones I've never stepped foot in. It's easy to get comfortable going to the same bars, seeing the same bands, biking down the same boulevards and streets, seeing the same people, eating the same things. This easiness leads to routine, and routine will make your life pass by quicker than you intend to. I'm 27 and I already know that. You can't have new thoughts and new feelings if you don't go to new places.

Of course, here's the dilemma. Routine, repetition, schedules - these don't necessarily lead to stagnation of the mind. These can lead to strong community building, whether that community is in a neighborhood, in artistic, or business. But the best way to help strengthen that community is inevitably to get outside of it, to introduce an outside perspective, and perhaps even bond your own community to another one. This is called growth.

So this year, I'm going to new places and new spaces, to get to know this city even more outside of the bubble I've grown familiar in. Yesterday, this included: a visit to Open Books in River North before they move to the West Loop next week; a small tour of the Midwest Buddhist Temple in Old Town, hosted by Jesse; hanging out at Oz Park in Old Town listening to a trombonist practice his scales and dog-watching; buying even more books at Bookworks in Wrigleyville; hanging out on the patio at Sheffield's than catching the first half of Reading Under the Influence; and then not something new but something always enjoyable, the aforementioned Words+Music at the Empty Bottle.

Onward to spring, and to life.



(note: this wasn't my exact route, but changing things on Google can be such a pain in the ass)

52 Books 52 Weeks

Uh oh. I'm falling behind. Shit. Ok. Here's a recent recap.

(5a. A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway

I know I know I know. I'm not counting this one for my 52 book count. It was a quick read of short memoirs published posthumously. I started it since I was reading a lot about the modernist period, and Hemingway not only has some great passages that give insight into his first marriage, but to Zelda and Scott Fitzgerald as well. Not to mention Paris in the 20s was no doubt a magical time of creativity, so much so that even the seemingly innocuous or simple stories are downright inspiring within that setting and Hemingway's use of language as a 1-2 punch to bring his point home.)









(Full reviews for Pow! and How To Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia are on Frontier Psychiatrist: Don't Speak, Tell...)

6. Pow! by Mo Yan (finished February 8th)

Last year's Nobel Prize winner in literature has been under much criticism. Since he is a Communist Party member, other Chinese writers and artists say he is not true in his words, and he has been criticized for not speaking out enough for jailed contemporaries. He responded to many of these allegations in his first interview since winning the prize. As for the story itself, it weaves contemporary with traditional themes, in a tale that focuses around a family that works in a slaughterhouse. Bathed in dark humor and magical realism, the alternating timelines and vulgarity of the book made for an unexpectedly fascinating read. The ending was unfortunately a bit rushed, but Yan had me in his grips all the way leading up to then. As disappointing as the end was, the rest of the novel was enough for me to want to check out his earlier works. 





7. How To Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia by Mohsin Hamid (finished February 12th)

This is the third novel by Pakistani born Mohsin Hamid. As its title implies, it reads as a how-to book, and can be read as one character's life over seven decades, or various storylines happening simultaneously. It was a quick read, and danced between a light-heartedness as well as uncovering the harsh reality of trying to better ones place in "Rising Asia." While the setting is most likely inspired by Hamid's native Lahore, it never specifically mentions it. The book was good overall, but something about the quick pace of it leaves me wanting more, and not necessarily in a good way. What I do appreciate about the book is its attempt (inadvertently, I'm sure) to break the barrier between First and Third World Issues, when so often they are the exact same thing.





 8. Out by Natsuo Kirino (finished February 25th)

Whoa, this was a fucked up book. Four women work the night shift at a boxed lunch factory, and all struggle in their personal lives. One with a family that ignores her, one who has to take care of her own senile mother, one who's husband leaves her after a dramatic fight, and one who ends up murdering her husband. This last woman gets the help from the other women to help her out, but cutting up the body into tiny pieces and disposing of it in various places around the suburbs Tokyo. Between reading this and recently watching Lost in Beijing (a film banned in mainland China, which involves the lives of two Chinese couples dealing with the consequences of rape and infidelity), not to mention the previous two books, my head is reeling in how seedy, dirty, and unethical the entire continent of Asia is. I jest of course, but it was certainly eye-opening, surprising, and an intense cerebral experience to take in all of this in a short period of time.