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Bezig met laden... Lord of the Barnyard: Killing the Fatted Calf and Arming the Aware in the Cornbelt (1999)door Tristan Egolf
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Meld je aan bij LibraryThing om erachter te komen of je dit boek goed zult vinden. Op dit moment geen Discussie gesprekken over dit boek. There's a good deal of history here. Back when I wore plaid and carried Nietzsche books everywhere there was a scene here. It was in the Highlands in Louisville. There were hordes of pseuds, but there was a core. There was a group of serious people involved with art, music, literature and activism. Most moved away - the Northwest, NYC, abroad etc. A few died. Recently a number have passed, mostly from cancer. Mostly my age. There was a coffeehouse that hosted readings and concerts. There was going to be a lecture series on Foucault. My best friend Joel and I went. The guy delivering the spiel was our age. He had a firm handle on his Foucault. There were a number of points open to debate. This I did. I am not entirely proud of said behavior. I wasn't heckling. I wasn't drunk (Stephen Malkmus, please forgive me) but I did interupt, politely. A great deal was discussed. A few years later Harold, who owned Twice-Told Books in Louisville, asked me if I had heard of Lord of the Barnyard. I hadn't. Harold explained that Egolf had lived in the area for a few years doing research on river towns in Southern Indiana. Harold noted that he also spoke about Derrida and Foucault locally. Oh shit. Well apparently Mr. Egolf was busking in Paris, his manuscript had been rejected by every publisher in the US and UK. He wound up involved with a publisher's daughter from one of the French heavies. Mr Egalf distilled life in Southern Indiana and displayed such with aplomb in his first novel. I loved it. I remember reading it while walking to work, something reckless I have since outgrown. Because of Mr. Egolf's abrupt conclusion in life, I haven't found the nerve to read his other work, which I have collected. This is a shattering book. Despair is increasing throughout the plot, without hope, without a ray of light — a story of Les Miserables, which presents American reality from its darkest angle. Writing is a burst of literary talent, with remarkable ability to illustrate even if the descriptions are sometimes tricky. I think this is a literary gem that is a pity to miss, also if there are parts that are too dated in the book.
Die hochtourig erzählte Geschichte hat auch einen Nachteil: sie nervt. Die vielen extremen Bilder, der immer farbig-volltönende Gestus ermüdet. Kaltenbrunner und seine Apostel, die "kollektiven Erzähler" dieser Unheilsgeschichte, erscheinen uns als Apokalyptische Reiter, die zu Notwehrexzessen neigen. Oder als Gladiatoren, die in aussichtslosen Schlachten zertreten werden und, mühsam zusammengeflickt, erneut und wie wahnsinnig weiterstürmen. Und doch behaupten sie im Prolog, sich "keinerlei Ausschmückungen" leisten zu wollen, sondern noch hinter den "wildesten und dreistesten Halluzinationen des Pöbels von Baker" zurückgeblieben zu sein. Mit Kaltenbrunners Tod erst kommen sie, kommt auch Baker wieder zur Besinnung, peinlich berührt über die Torheiten, die man sich über Monate hinweg geleistet hat. Dass damit etwas besser geworden sei, dass man für die Zukunft etwas gelernt habe, bleibt ein frommer Wunsch. Ein Müllwerkerstreik mit seinen ekelhaften Folgen kann eben nicht als reinigendes Gewitter gelten. Tristan Egolf ist ein ungestümer Erzähler, auf grelle Farben und Vergleiche aus, darin Tom Coraghessan Boyle nicht unähnlich. Was einzig ihm abgeht ist das rhythmische und notwendige Wechselspiel von Systole und Diastole, von Erregung und Ruhe, Spannung und Entspannung. Aber diese Forderung wird sein zweiter Roman vielleicht schon einlösen. Onderdeel van de uitgeversreeks(en)Gallimard, Folio (3422)
This debut novel begins with the death of a woolly mammoth in the Ice Age & ends with a greased-pig-chase funeral in the modern-day Midwest, in between telling the story of an autodidact goat-roping farm boy by the name John Kaltenbrunner. Geen bibliotheekbeschrijvingen gevonden. |
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Google Books — Bezig met laden... GenresDewey Decimale Classificatie (DDC)813.54Literature English (North America) American fiction 20th Century 1945-1999LC-classificatieWaarderingGemiddelde:
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"Everyone knew that to the Catholics, Jesus was Mary's boy, to the Baptists he was the savior, to the Jews he was nothing, but to the Methodists he was a tax deduction."
Thanks to my buddy, Woods, for the gift of this book. ( )