This is a list of some of the shit I read this year. My mind is quite scattered, and I’ve probably forgotten a couple books here and there, but I think this is the bulk of it.
The Human Condition: Collected Stories by Dilair Singh
First of all: I should take time to plug my own work. I laboured over it for awhile and I think it’s a decent display of where I’m at as a writer at this stage. I’m fucking unemployed and my life is going absolutely nowhere: buy it!
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
This is one of my favourite books of all time, and with all the race relations shit happening in the world in 2020 I decided to revisit it. It still holds up marvellously. McCullers tapped into true greatness here, and it’s one of those novels where I’d say: if you go through life without reading it you haven’t lived.
After reading this book a second time it still held up well. And I began reading her autobiography, and the making of it afterward, and I was even more impressed. She made this book like it was something she felt compelled to do; there aren’t many works like that anymore.
Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates
This is another book I decided to revisit this year. Richard Yates is one of my favourite writers of all time. He was unappreciated in his lifetime, and still fairly disrespected today I feel. Most people only know about him because Leonardo DiCaprio starred in a movie adaption of this book, and that’s fine (the movie isn’t bad), but Yates’ writing is so much better. His genius is the ability to capture American life and the domestic world perfectly, every nook and cranny.
Personally, I’ve always wanted to get married and have kids. The boomer fantasy: a white picket fence, green lawn, a house in suburbia, etc etc. Of course, that will never happen for me. Boomers fucked up the world well enough that they will probably be the last generation who will ever get a chance to do so. Something Yates does really well here (and his other books), is show you that the boomer life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Revolutionary Road illustrates the dark side of the American dream in a way not many authors have.
Apropos of Nothing by Woody Allen
Hilarious autobiography. Woody sets the record straight about everything: his career, bogus allegations made against him, his creative process, etc. The major thing I took away from this book as an artist is the idea that we have to constantly be on guard and anti-lazy, if that makes sense. Woody has been mercilessly attacked by the media and dumb, brainwashed liberals who believe they have to agree with everything another liberal says. To the point that it’s not even worth it for him to engage. So what’s left? The only solution is to put your head down and work, he says. That’s a quality I really admire in a person.
Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Davis
In a nutshell: yes they are. Davis is one of our best thinkers on this subject, and she gives a detailed, thoughtful analysis on why prisons are an archaic institution.
Blood In My Eye by George Jackson
Fantastic book. When we talk about revolutions and what is required, it’s tough to really articulate the fundamentals, but this book nails it. George Jackson really lived it, and it’s almost unbelievable to think that a man with this much integrity (and his brother as well) once lived. They weren’t bullshitting: one gets the sense that they truly believed a revolution was something that could be accomplished. In my opinion, the thing that always fucks people up seems to be a lack of organization, as well as the idolatry of a couple key figures in a movement who later get killed by the establishment, effectively scaring the shit out of everyone who ever thought twice about acting up.
It Is The Secret by Paul Town
I discovered this guy on Twitter somehow, and I’m glad I did. This book is a collection of essays and his thoughts about various things, and I found myself laughing fairly often. It’s a self-published book and riddled with errors, but that takes nothing away from how amusing it is. After I finished reading this I went on to purchase a short novel he wrote, “John,” and it was also funny. I’m looking forward to reading his other two at some point in the future, but I have a lot of other shit to read first.
Death in Her Hands by Ottessa Moshfegh
Big fan of her work, but this wasn’t very good. It falls apart by the middle. Meandering, unfocused, pointless. The first time I’ve ever been disappointed by her work, and the first time I’d use the word “misstep” to describe something she’s written. Even more surprising to me is the fact that she said in an interview she wrote this at a creative highpoint in her life, between other books that are highly revered. Maybe she was burnt out or something? I have no idea, but I’d never read this again and I briefly went back to her short stories after this to cleanse my palate.
Harassment Architecture by Mike Ma
Bret Easton Ellis is one of my favourite writers of all time. What he did with Less Than Zero is still impressive to me. It’s a documentary in book form, and Clay’s detachment is written perfectly. Anyway, when I heard Mike Ma’s book compared to BEE, I had to give this a shot of course.
I thought the comparisons were apt: Mike Ma is essentially coming from the same place. The thing I liked about this book is that the narrator feels completely unhappy at the state of the world and the only real solution to it all seems to be nihilism. Burn it all to the ground is the overall sentiment here. I liked this book, and there are certain lines that have stayed with me for awhile now (and I finished reading it about 2 months ago). Even if I don’t necessarily agree with everything he says, I’m looking forward to reading whatever Mike Ma writes next.
Technological Slavery by Ted Kaczynski
This guy has been called a bunch of things, “domestic terrorist” among those titles. And of course: that isn’t wrong. He killed people, and I cannot condone that. However, to simply describe him as that is a dumb simplification. I mean, think about how we talk about him: “the Unabomber.” As if that’s all he did, and he offered zero value to society. Most people only know about his indiscretions, but the average person hasn’t ever actually engaged with his ideas. All my life I heard about this guy as some wackadoo, but the more I read this book the more I thought, “This motherfucker’s spitting. Facts bro!”
Humanity and technology is like a ship with no sailor: we have no clue where the fuck we’re going, and everyone seems to be okay with it. It kind of makes me sick. Once again, I have to say: I don’t agree with the murder aspect of his actions, but I do agree that humanity is headed for disaster if there’s no intervention of some kind (and of course, there won’t be: we’ve opened Pandora’s Amazon Box already). What truly disturbs me about where we are currently is that, for the most part, I do not think people are dumb. We’re born with a shithead side, but we’re also born with a rational side. And when I talk to most people they all seem to be in agreement that phones and the internet, etc, are making everyone significantly dumber than they were even 2-3 years ago. Yet…nobody ever does a thing. We all seem to be ushering in our own irrelevancy as a species, and people seem to be okay with it.
I Hate the Internet by Jarett Kobek
This is another great book for people that are unhappy with where this culture has shifted. It’s an indictment on Silicon Valley unlike anything else I’ve read: it’s smart, and also funny. I loved it.
Serotonin by Michel Houellebecq
I first heard about this book via Anna Khachiyan, who I consider to be one of our preeminent thinkers, and one of the last public intellectuals left. She described the book thusly, “Is love possible under advanced capitalism?” I heard that and didn’t need to be pushed any further.
I think Houellebecq accomplishes a great feat here. He delicately balances the male mindset, and how it fits into place with society (and love) at large. The funny thing to me is that it’s a fairly short book for a novel, and yet it’s been described as being “exhausting.” That is very telling, I think that speaks volumes about what it’s like being a depressed, horny dude. The novel is a challenge, and it’s not due to length, it’s because of how annoying our own brains can be sometimes. Houellebecq absolutely nails that.
Anyway, that’s about it from me for now. I am spending my summer keeping to myself, reading, and working on my third novel. Maybe I’ll write more here when I feel like I have something important to say, maybe I’ll make a short film, or do a stand-up set somewhere, film it, and upload it here. I really have no idea, but feel free to return here if you feel like it. I think I am going to start making this the sole place I communicate to the world. Who knows. Cheers.