Thursday, February 16, 2012

Author's Take: Sergio De La Pava on titling A Naked Singularity

My first review on this site was for the magnificent A Naked Singularity by Sergio De La Pava. As part of this blog, I want to, in addition to providing my (convoluted, hopelessly verbose) interpretation of the title, give the ultimately more interesting perspective from the author. Mr. De La Pava was kind enough to share with me his thought process:
"The title?  I first heard the phrase in an undergrad Physics class (the kind you take when you find theoretical physics metaphorically rich but don't want to [can't] do high-level math) and it stuck for whatever reason some things stick.  I guess it's good since although I'm currently sick to tears of it, it took a while.  Best ever?  Everything That Rises Must Converge; that's not being topped anytime soon."
You see what I mean about him being funny? Kudos to you, Sergio, not only for taking physics classes, but also for the accurately high estimation of Flannery O'Connor. (I studied her exhaustively in grad school - for a tenth of her talent I'd sell my soul)


"that's not being topped anytime soon."

Among O'Connor's other brilliant titles (short stories included): "The Lame Shall Enter First," "Parker's Back" (read it to get it), "The Life You Save May Be Your Own" (I maintain it inspired this song) and of course, the cultural landmark "A Good Man is Hard to Find" (indubitably inspired this one).


A Naked Singularity is due out May 2012. We've already received a few special orders for it at the bookstore. Plan accordingly.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Review: Skippy Dies

Title: Skippy Dies
Author: Paul Murray
ISBN13: 9700865479432
Origin: Ireland
Length: 672 pp.
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Released: August 2010

Initial Thoughts:

I obtained Skippy Dies at a rep night a couple months ago. That's right, I got it for free, along with some beautiful cookbooks, crossword puzzles, a couple of other novels, as well as some uncategorizable books. I put off reading Skippy Dies for a bit though, because I was sloughing through another book (which you'll inevitably hear me complain about later).

"What is that book?" strangers asked me when they saw me reading it.

"It's about a boy named Skippy."

"Has he died yet?"

"Yeah, he's been dead since the first chapter."

I'd then proceed to give some less-than-stellar summary of the general plot, namely, that Skippy Dies narrates the experiences of a group of characters at a prestigious Irish boarding school before, during, and after Skippy's death. By killing Skippy off in the first pages, Murray insists we ought not to become too attached to him. And who could get attached to a 14-year-old boy and his pervy (& often spoiled) boarding school friends? The comparison we're looking at here is, of course, Harry Potter, but unlike HP & co, Skippy Dies actually breaches the depth of human emotion and paints ambiguous characters who cannot be committed with confidence to either "good" or "bad" categories. Teenagers, it turns out, are great characters: they're pitiable, deplorable, and to Murray's great credit, relatable. And there are plenty of perspectives from equally well-crafted adult characters (teachers, principles, priests) that allow the reader a break from the armory of lame sex jokes made by Skippy's friends.

Title Rating: 5/5


When I first saw this book on display at the store, I thought the title was funny. It's morbid in that Haroldian (i.e., Harold & Maude) sort of way


A wise move on Murray's part. Descriptive, pithy, without being too bland.  The Fall of Seabrook College, Skippy Reaches the 11th Dimension, anything like that would have worked, too. But Skippy Dies is just so cleverly ambiguous without being ambiguous at all (I really value ambiguity, as you'll find).

When Skippy dies, a lot of other things do, too. Embedded in the narrative is the story of the diminished role of priests in parochial education, which signals, like the incessant use of technology in the novel, the end of a simpler, shielded era. The teenagers' lives are made transparent through text messages, camera phones, and worst of all, prying adults. The church is also no longer able to shroud itself. Skippy's death is at once tied to a spiritually-bogus (maybe?) priest, but the secular institutions that both prosecute and protect the church are painted as equally dubious.

Thus in a way, the title Skippy Dies signals more than just Skippy's own death. The simultaneous bleakness and humor of the title equips us with both humor and caution in approaching the newly transparent world, the world without "Skippy." The handling of this world by Murray's deeply thought-out characters is entertaining, emotional, and overall just a beautiful rendition of humanity. Highly recommended.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Review: A Naked Singularity

Title: A Naked Singularity
Author: Sergio de la Pava
ISBN13: 9780226141794
Origin: USA
Length: 688 pp.
Publisher: University of Chicago Press
Released: May 2012

Initial Thoughts:

I was determined to obtain a copy of this book after reading its (very much hyped) blurb it in a spring catalogue at work (I work at a bookstore). The promotional review lauded the book as "generation defining" and prophesied de la Pava's intellectual induction into the literary territory shared by David Foster Wallace, Herman Melville, and Dostoevsky. So, pretty much the highest fucking praise you can get. I received a review copy a couple weeks ago, and I believe enough time has now passed to give a charitable review to the book.

Wow. Well, I couldn't put it down, but that's not always an indication of quality. The plot: 24-year-old Casi is a Public Defender living in Brooklyn who has never lost a case. He's 2nd generation Colombian, a character trait that factors into the plot more figuratively than literally (though a nice recipe for empanadas in included, strangely...). Of course, a major turn of action in the book centers on Casi's first loss in court.

The loss is enough of a blow that Casi begins to lose his grip on reality, a slippage hastened by a cast of humanities-studying grad school roommates (yikes), a mute niece, enormous credit card debt, and morally-disinclined co-workers. Dialogue often reads like undergraduate philosophy or theology courses, where the juiciest bits about the innate goodness of humans, the historicity of Jesus, and the veracity of cause-and-effect are discussed as calmly and normally as a person discusses the weather. These conversations will undoubtedly please intellectual readers, although most of the ideas were not revelatory to me, being an ex-grad student in humanities and all. One thing the dialogue is though, is funny. Casi is an extremely likable narrator; his perception is extremely rich without being omniscient. There's also plenty of action, potential symbolism aplenty, and enough courtroom drama to satiate anyone with a secret Law & Order fetish (me).

There are a scant few disagreement elements of A Naked Singularity. I almost completely skipped over a harshly integrated side-narrative involving a Puerto Rican boxer, though it would have made an excellent piece of journalism in the New Yorker or something similar. I would also like to have seen more character development in Casi's totally intriguing sister

The less satisfactory elements were of little detriment to my experience with the book though. Like I said, I couldn't put it down - A Naked Singularity is quite compelling.

Title Rating: 5/5

"Naked singularity" is a term borrowed from physics. Short story: black holes, the gravitational traps resultant of collapsed stars, have two points: the singularity (the point at which matter/light/time[?] is sucked into the black hole) and the event horizon (the field surrounding the singularity from which escape is impossible). Event horizons shield the actual point of the singularity, making the singularity invisible to physicists/astronomers/whoever deals with this shit. Naked singularities have no event horizon, and therefore "we" can see them. Matter can pass in and out of a naked singularity, whereas it is...crushed? sent to another dimension? in regular black holes. Thus: regular black holes are areas at which the laws of physics break down. Naked singularities are doubly problematic because they don't even have a physics-governed region that surrounds them. Basically, naked singularities are being poised by physicists as the potential generators of astronomical phenomena that defy the laws of physics.

The title of de la Pava's novel, then, betrays the audience for which it is intended: those who grasp, or at least have an interest in, the "basics" of theoretical physics. These readers are the same ones who follow with enthusiasm his philosophical tangents and enjoy the syllogisms embedded throughout the text. And this is fine with me -A Naked Singularity is a book for people who went to college, and then probably some more after that. The academic publisher, University of Chicago, pretty much ensures that. But even if you just thought "naked singularity" was a cool phrase (this bitch right here), enjoy the dive into the unknown.

A Naked Singularity is, after all, very much about approaching that mysterious point, entering, and then returning (consequentially, the book is divided into three parts). Like his narrator Casi, de la Pava is 2nd generation Colombian-American. De la Pava's homage to magical realism, the genre born and perfected on the South American continent, is just that - the second generation of magical realism. There was a time before The Invention of Morel and "The Library of Babel," and then they gloriously happened, and now we are in the globalized age, where One Hundred Years of Solitude is regarded by people all over the world as the greatest novel, ever. A Naked Singularity spans a mere several weeks, but it may as well have been a hundred years - such is the pace of life now. De la Pava, like Murakimi and Rushdie, is gifted in imbibing magic into his locally experienced 21st century. And perhaps all of the "magic" that remains in de la Pava's world is attributable to astrophysical anomalies, but then again, maybe these anomalies have been magic's catalyst the whole time. I guess that's really the question.





Introduction

Hi,

I am beginning a reading blog. What follows is my justification:

  1. With the conclusion of graduate school, I have discovered that I can consume enormous amounts (of text) in relatively short periods of time. Probably because I am not reading process/apophatic/phenomenological theology anymore. God, what a misguided attempt at life that was, Masters in Theology, ha-ha-ha.
  2. My current job not only encourages me to read copiously, but allows me access to all sorts of new books that have not yet been published. I'm also living well below the poverty line. So at best your jealously can be ambivalent.
  3. I enjoy writing. I used to have another blog, coalesque.blogspot.com, but that blog reached its logical conclusion last year. Coalesque was an experimental blog I used to track my depression. 
  4. I don't have enough friends in Chicago to start a book club.
Why you should read what I have to say:
  1. I was clever enough to think of a good angle. Judging a book by its - title. Have you noticed how books used to have strictly descriptive titles? War & Peace. Crime & Punishment. Jane Eyre. Frankenstein. A Tale of Two Cities. Etc. The last few (21st c) books I read were titled: Skippy Dies. A Naked Singularity. Broken Irish. Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal. Titling things is interesting, now. Like a tiny little poem, synecdoche, of the whole.  
  2. Generally, I have good taste. 
  3. Probably, we're already friends.
Commence, Genre, Generic - - -