In which I convince myself I like something I previously disliked
This is mostly so I don’t forget, but this week I finished the End of the Story, by Lydia Davis. A few months ago I read, and plainly adored, her later book of short stories, Varieties of Disturbance. I had been putting off reading something different by Davis, partly because I was so taken with her talent as a short story writer, and also partly because I found something actually a little magical about her as a writer, in general, and I didn’t want to cloud my brains with too much magic all at once. The End of the Story received largely rave reviews when it was published (1995), and thus I am confused by my own disappointment with it. I actually found this book a little boring, a little monotonous, and surely a little repetitive. While I felt that Davis shone when able to tweak format & structure (as in VOD), I don’t think–and I might be wrong, because EofS is the first novel I’ve read of hers–she can necessarily shine in a long form quite as well.
HOWEVER, if I were to look at this book with fresh, virginal Lydia Davis eyeballs, I probably would have been completely taken aback by it. I did note that my library copy had been virtually dipped in highlighter–somebody was that impressed with almost every other sentence (this was, for the record, totally distracting. Dear world, STOP WRITING IN LIBRARY BOOKS. Thanks.). It probably isn’t fair to compare this book to another of hers, and then judge it critically for not being what I wanted, which is to say: jokes, and short stories, and stuff, and here I must ask myself, who reads a novel looking for short stories, anyway? Me, apparently. I loved the subject matter of this novel (in short, an older woman who works as a translator [this is partly autobiographical, I think], is left by a younger lover, and the book is mostly a retrospective about how she was kind of cruel to him, and thus deserved to be left anyway, and then she STALKS HIM, which is creepy, but admittedly really well written), and I am really quite affected by her writing style, which additionally worked very well with this subject matter, but oh, I don’t know. Maybe I did like it after all. I don’t even know anymore. Ok, Friday afternoon, you win.
Posted: March 19th, 2010 under fiction.
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Ah, to be thankful for Tina Fey, and dogs, and new warm hats, and quilts from grandmas, and other comforting things. I need a hug.
In two weeks I will be a normal human being again, with a voracious reading appetite and MAYBE EVEN SOME FREE TIME. Hang in there, kid.