I'm still working my way through The Sot-Weed Factor. I'm slow. How slow am I? I'm almost halfway through the book and I just realized, hey, wait, it's not so much historical novels that I should be comparing this book to, but epic poems. The Odyssey, The Iliad, probably certainly The Aeneid. All of which I've been thinking it's been far too long since I've read. Add one more impetus to engage in some fast and furious wishful thinking.
I've pretty much given up on trying to read the book as satire or spoof of historical novels. It's like, I'm sure that's going on, and I could probably spell it out if I tried, but it's not much fun to read that way. Problem is I've got little to no ear for satire more subtle than, say, an Onion article. It's not to say this book isn't funny; it is funny. It's just funny for me in a more straight-forward way than I suspect the satire angle calls for.
That probably doesn't make sense, because I'm not entirely sure what I'm trying to say. Point being: I'm enjoying the adventurers of Ebenezer Cooke, the wandering poet hero, as he seeks to find and reclaim what's rightfully his. That the book pokes fun at cultural perceptions of innocence and experience is a sort of bonus tossed in to the mix. (Whose culture's perceptions, though? Harumph.) I'm sure the close reader elite task for squad will sniper me for saying that, but, well, so be it.
Speaking of close reading: I've tossed my first post over toward The Blog of Disquiet. Not up yet, but you can expect it to come when it comes. Looks like the blog is starting to attract some attention. I've every intent of keeping some good (well, not bad) content flowing in that direction. The Book of Disquiet has been fun, what few pages of it I've read so far. I'm interested in seeing what else my own read and the group read uncover.
Of course, all of the above is contingent on my ripping off the television band-aid that is Heroes, the first season of which I'm currently somewhere in the middle of. Which is to say the show does in fact rule and I'm quite glad I've finally got the chance to watch it. Theory has it I'll get all caught up so I can watch the current season on a weekly basis, but I've decided in my old age I've no use for weekly televised dramas of this sort. If I can't borrow DVDs long enough to set life aside for a single week in order to drill through an entire season, it's probably not worth my time.
Though naturally I'll make an excuse for Battlestar Galactica, my one true television crack pipe (much to my girlfriend's chagrin), now that the greatest undersung television show of all time, John From Cincinnati, officially is and shall be no more. God damn you, HBO. Damn you to Hell.
3 comments:
We are all frail vessels.
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The Sot-Weed Factor isn't so much a satire of the historical novel as it is a pastiche of the 18th century novel itself--the kind written by Fielding, Smollett, etc. Barth really was sort of responsible for bringing the 18th century novel back into literary fashion, which ultimately resulted--in tandem with Barth's own career as a metafictionist--in Tristram Shandy acquiring a new kind of prominence.
Dan, that makes a lot of sense. I'll have more to say on this.
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