Aloha Internet. Happy February! Here is my inaugural log of recent (end of January) intake.
Lit. I’m Liking
Stories of Anton Chekov, Richard Pevear, Larissa Volokhonsky1
The role of the artist is to ask questions, not answer them.
It took about 1500 words before Chekov completely colonized my brain. By and large these selected works are precise, plotless, and complete unto themselves. (A catalog of qualities somewhat shared by the following):
A Separation, Intimacies, and The Longshot by Katie Kitamura
I studied with Katie Kitamura in college and, like a responsible pupil, I refused to read her until 6+ years later. I implore you to enter Kitamura’s worlds wherein wisps of sparse concision breed towering gestalt. Fellow writers take heed: I intuit the literary landscape demands we keep things laconic for a decade or two longer. These texts are both structural and stylistic templates in economy.
Nonfiction
The Finders, Jeffrey A. Martin
May be the Most Important (an absolute, I know) spirituality-adjacent text I’ve encountered to date, but will likely be found either extremely esoteric or downright laughable to those unfamiliar with mystical experiences, PNSE, plateau states. If you have any tangential interest in spiritual wellbeing, nonattachment and / or are fairly open-minded, consider this a potentially foundational text.
Movies / Media
Casablanca, (1942) Michael Curtiz, 70th Anniversary Edition
Remember when actors actually had to be like 100%, for sure, no smoke and mirrors, Beautiful? It’s in some dorky theaters near you if you get a chance.
Nightmare Alley: Vision of Darkness and Light, (2021) Guillmero Del Toro
Worth watching for art department, Cooper, Mara, style in general. Unfortunately, ultimately a nihilistic story (a first for Del Toro), which IMO is irresponsible. I’m having two daughters and naming them Rooney and Mara.
Belle, (2021) Mamoru Hosoda
Recluse school girl goes big online. The universal story of our time. Feel it all around: good.
Drive My Car, (2021) Ryûsuke Hamaguchi
On loop. I’m helping out on an independent grief feature right now for which Drive My Car serves as perfect reference text. My favorite flick of the past year.
Midnight Mass, (2021 Limited Series) Mike Flanagan
Midnight Mass is bottom shelf temple art. Technically speaking it’s a horror satire of Roman Catholicism but it’s got of bit of everything and earns its gooey and simultaneously profound final act.
(Dis)Honorable Mentions
Seveneves, Neal Stephenson (Novel)
I am not enjoying this nor any thematically-aligned content of late (Moonfall, Don’t Look Up). I’m usually generous to sci-fi but find this sub-canon heavy handed and uninsightful: weapons-grade infotainment neé radiation-mutated TedX Talks.
Parallel Mothers, (2021) Pedro Almodóvar
I left the theater feeling like it was really good, but it wasn’t. The people are beautiful, everyone’s likable. A lot happens, everything makes sense except for the gratuitous lesbian sex scene. Which if you do a thing like that you gotta make it make sense.
Though I MUCH prefer Constance Garnett for Russian translations, I couldn’t find a curated selection (managable volume) of Chekov by her. Pevear and Volokhonsky seem to be doing alright.