Mythology, Perception, and Reality--Hari Kunzru-- Gods Without Men

I read Hari Kunzru's remarkable book Gods Without Men last year. I've been meaning to say a little about it for a while but just haven't got around to it until now. This novel is probably the best fictional work I've read in a while. I believe that it was a NY Times notable book from 2012. So I'm sure for a lot of people Gods Without Men is far from being a hidden gem. But I like to write about things that impress me, whether they are obscure or less well-known. Usually, my posts lean toward obscurity, I guess.....

Atop the tallest of earth's peaks dwell the gods of earth, who suffer not man to tell that he hath looked upon them....

I don't really want to give away too much about the book. It would be very unfair.

Something strange going on out in the Desert. For years people are being drawn there. But for what, if anything? Is there something beyond our human knowledge and understanding in this remote area, or is this some sort of illusion imposed on the real world by human consciousness?

While reading Gods Without Men I was reminded of some dialogue from Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov, where someone commented that if God did not exist, than man would have to invent him. Looking into it a little more, I'm now finding the quote in the book is a reiteration of a remark originally made by Voltaire.

Gods Without Men to me is in some ways a vehicle to discuss this issue. Not so much about religion but about human nature and how we perceive and process things. How our minds are wired to create a semblance of order even when any order is nonexistent. The novel is expansive however, covering psychology of human relationships, the possible underpinnings of mythology in the real world, popular delusions and the madness of crowds, the Culture of Celebrity. Artificial Intelligence. UFOs. Native American Folklore. And we aren't being enlightened here by an all-knowing narrator with X-ray vision. Kunzru's narrative is a contradictory weave created from the perspectives of numerous people.

Throughout the book I found myself being pulled back and forth, wondering what actually is happening. The tension produced by superb pacing of the narrative is both exhilarating and at times disconcerting. So often, events proceed, and as much as people understand reality, in many cases they are inert actors that can't control the outcomes as the world deteriorates before them. Part of the story exists in the present, but the narrative also goes back to earlier historical eras, which would lead you to believe that there is a pattern recurring. And this adds to the mystery. But certainly the nature of what this pattern may actually be is up for debate. At each point in time the explanations for what is happening are different, based on changing knowledge and cultural mores/conceits of the different eras.

But the beauty of this novel is that the contents are so rich, that I would be more surprised if someone came away with the exact same opinions that I have processed. And I don't think that this is an unintentional outcome. And while the going gets extremely rough for individuals in the novel, optimism seems to persist on some level. I find that there is a great humanistic spirit running throughout this book, despite the many weaknesses and failings of human beings.

Sure, I have read books that are good reads, that are interesting and even astonishing in scope. I might appreciate novelists' inventive use of language, or their ability to create unbelievably imaginative literary frameworks. Gods Without Men, in addition to being a great read, is packed full of philosophical and intellectual digressions. This aspect places the novel to a whole other level of quality.

I found God Without Men to be brilliant. It's a novel that interacts with you, forces you to think about pretty much the nature of everything. Certainly there are people who wouldn't want to bother with a work this challenging, but my view is that Hari Kunzru's writing would be an excellent source of sustenance for your intellect.

Pinch Me-I Think I'm in Kent...-- Giles Smith's Lost in Music

Recently I completed Giles Smith's book Lost in Music, a personal memoir that involves musical obsession and also about reaching out for the brass ring of success in the pop music world. It's just one of those books that combine humor, wit, and humiliation, in fairly equal doses, often hard to separate. And of course about life growing up in Colchester, England. Giles takes a scalpel, and about as honestly and intelligently as a person can, attempts to forensically analyze his musical addiction from its earliest beginnings to the unrepentant present. Anyone who is in a band or dreamed of being a internationally beloved pop icon can identify with Smith. This is definitely a different kind of memoir, unlike recent ones by Keith Richards, Gregg Allman, and Dylan. This is more like Killing Bono by Neil McCormick. Maybe I have more affinity for books by the also-rans, like John Armstrong of Vancouver's Modernettes (Guilty of Everything), and New Zealand's Sneaky Feelings' Matthew Bannister (Positively George Street). And as a fellow keyboard player who also always wanted to play guitar, I sympathize with Smith's plights. To a point. Because hell, he made an album with Martin Newell! I'm a little jealous, frankly.

Giles Smith was in Martin Newell's band Cleaners from Venus, a group that he hoped would find super stardom on some level. Certainly Newell is a incredibly talented songwriter. This year many of the lo-fi, limited release recordings,of Newell are being made available to the public, notably a 3 Cd box set from Captured Tracks. Unfortunately for Giles, Newell is unlike say, a Mick Jagger, or the Gallagher brothers of Oasis, and did not have the fire in his belly to get out there and promote the music, go on tours, etc. Think more Andy Partridge of XTC or Steely Dan; record some great records and hope that the public buys them. Which is alright; from Smith's description he is a man with strong principles that he was adamant not to compromise. Even with great music and driving ambitions for glory, the recording biz is a dicey one at best. Plenty of posts on this blog can attest to this. Needless to say, the Cleaners from Venus never made it big, despite the brilliant jangle pop they made. These days Giles makes his living as a journalist, and Newell returned once more to making music, and making poetry.

Smith is not for a moment trying to make a posthumous case for the band as he is explaining the reasons why they never really had much of a chance, using very funny anecdotes, often at his own expense. He details many of the foibles of the music industry, and the fleeting fame that it might potentially provide. For example, he writes about the tour of Germany, where the Cleaners main fan base was. At the last moment Newell bowed out, as he simply could not go through with the ordeal. It was something he never wanted to ever do, but labels can be persuasive. So basically the tour went on without Newell, the singer/songwriter, i.e. the Talent. Imagine doing PR for the band, where the first question is "Where Is Martin Newell?". Like going to see a Paul Simon concert, but with an understudy filling in, like a Broadway show.

In some respects, the book also is reminiscent of High Fidelity, the novel about musical obsession and romance by Nick Hornby. If you are huge music fan, Lost in Music will definitely be both appealing and maybe a little unnerving, just as all the He writes about the bands he first was interested in as a child, and he isn't afraid to admit that he was a fan of some pretty awful bands. He waxes eloquently on the aesthetics of categorizing his collection, how his tastes were at times hand-me-downs of this brothers, and also a sometimes a reaction against the tastes of his brothers. And guiltily, he admits that most of these albums he was embarrassed to admit that he owned are still somewhere in the back of his musical catalog even today. He lovingly writes about his phases with Marc Bolan, 10cc, and about local lad made good Nik Kershaw in addition to the music of Stevie Wonder and the Buzzcocks. Any book that can name check such artists, in addition to Andrew Ridgely, Scritti Politti, Milli Vanilli, and the Status Quo has got to be pretty damned excellent.

I think this book is a great read for any music lover, both casual and fanatic. I found myself laughing out loud quite a bit. He does a great job of walking a tightrope between taking music very seriously, and laughingly expounding on all the absurdity and irrelevance of pop music. As the great John Peel stated... I have read few books as funny and none that caused me to recognise the roots of my own enthusiasm as clearly or as frequently. He summed it up much better than I have. Do yourself a favor and give Lost in Music a go! And while you are at it, look into Martin Newell and The Cleaners From Venus if you are a dedicated fan of the jangle.

Why Can't I...Be Like Any Other Guy? Hooleygan---Belfast's Punk Godfather Terri Hooley tells all (or at least some)

I just finished reading a fantastic book by the Belfast punk rock legend Terri Hooley (and Richard Sullivan), and I must admit it was a corker! Honestly, I started reading the book yesterday and already had finished it by this afternoon. If you are interested in Irish Rock music, or punk rock in general you need to read thisAnd his story is a great example of the DIY ethos in action..

Hard to Beat

We know him as the man behind Good Vibrations, the Belfast label that spawned the great Undertones, who brought them to the attention of John Peel, who played Teenage Kicks, and loved the song so much that he played it a second time on air, right after the first. I've discussed the amazing confluence of events in a prior post about the Undertones DVD. Hooley was a great promoter of local bands in Belfast--he saw that the rest of the UK viewed the area as a musical backwater, and he helped a lot of bands get heard through the release of singles on his label. Bands like Rudi, Protex, The Moondogs, Victim, Xdreamysts, and The Outcasts. From his earlier days in the folk scene, the hippie years of the 60's, and through the excitement of the punk rock explosion, he displayed a great love of good music and a deep healthy hatred of the music business.



The book is filled with great descriptions of the era, loaded with anecdote after anecdote. I don't really want to elaborate on them too much--I don't want to spoil the fun. Because Hooley by all accounts is a one of a kind guy, a fun loving mischievous guy who isn't afraid to speak his mind and stand up for his convictions. As you will find out in the book, he probably is not the greatest businessman. Owning a record store was almost a front for everything else he did. He was someone who got involved in music the arts, who DJed, ran record stores, a music label, managed bands, even did pirate radio. And this was happening in what was a pretty miserable place at the time. It seemed that punk music was one of the few outlets for young people that was able to bridge the sectarian gap. At least in the clubs...the long walk home at night was apparently an entirely different story.



In addition to Hooleys anecdotal reflections, you have short chapters in the book written by some of his friends, musicians and writers who have kind and amusing things to say about Belfast's Godfather of Punk.
On the back of the book there is a great quote from Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol. "a drunken lunatic, a lucid guru, a hilarious storyteller, a cuddly bear, and many more things besides." He even had a #1 hit on the charts with his rendition of Sonny Bono's "Laugh at Me". There are great descriptions of the club scenes of the day, like The Harp, and The Pound. The biography is loaded with pictures and promotional photos in addition to the many stories. Though I was most interested in learning about the Northern Irish Bands that recorded on Good Vibrations, I enjoyed reading about his encounters with Dylan, The Rolling Stones, John Lennon, Bob Marley, and Phil Lynott of Thin Lizzy. My only wish would have been that it included a disc full of songs Good Vibrations catalog. But hey, I guess you can't have everything. Hopefully this vibrant punk scene will eventually be more accessible to the public some day soon.

But believe me, if you love music you will love this book. Hooley is a real charmer---somehow I feel like I'm reading this and being schmoozed by him, and he is accomplishing this from an ocean away. His story is definitely worth documenting though, and this year they are filming a biopic about this life entitled Good Vibrations, the Terri Hooley story.

A story that will make you laugh and cry--and think. As a fellow music lover your heart will beat a little faster with each and every page turn. His enthusiasm and zest for life is contagious.  More people could use such infection!

Harmony in My Head (or is it Pharmacy?) : Buzzcock's Steve Diggle's Rock N Roll Life in words

I Believe...

I just reread Steve Diggle's entertaining biography, Harmony in My Head. Maybe not literature at the highest level, but a non-stop no holds barred account of a life in Music. It's like having a casual extended conversation with a Punk Rock icon.

We know Steve Diggle as one of the principals in the Buzzcocks, one of the greatest and most influential bands of the last 30 years. Singles Going Steady is one those records you keep in your underground survival shelter for safekeeping, so that you can enjoy great music in a post-apocalyptic world. For me they are like a soundtrack to that era, because the music has all that cathartic energy, passion and attitude. It is not accidental that people refer to them as the Beatles of Punk Rock. But honestly, when you read the book, you might start thinking that at least in Lifestyle a more apt comparison might be The Rolling Stones, or at least The Faces. They were definitely a hard living bunch, with the exception of Steve Garvey. As far as Diggle goes, I think Sex Pistol's Glen Matlock's loving quip sums things up succinctly.

I've know Steve for over 25 years, and he's a boozin' shagger, and I love him dearly...

I saw The Buzzcocks a few years back at Maxwell's in Hoboken and I have to say, they were still fantastic!Like old pros they smashed out a good 30 tunes in a little over an hour. One classic after the next. It's was just astonishing to hear all the great songs smushed into one great set. And they really rock out quite hard, more like The Who than any art band. Aside from the the 8 year hiatus after their third album, A Different Kind of Tension, they have been one of the most enduring acts in recent memory. Definitely survivors.

As far as the book goes, Diggle rambles about in chronological sequence. He starts out discussing his childhood, growing up in Manchester in poor conditions. He quickly became disillusioned with hard labor, and took the rock route as a way around this. And also for the girls, of course. But from these humble origins, came great musical art. Talent, desire, and ambition merged together, along with a little luck along the way.

It's a Hard Rock life.

He's definitely not afraid to voice his opinions. He speaks quite candidly about the 70's Punk scene and his peers, like The Pistols, The Clash, and The Jam. He also recounts anecdotes from performing with Joy Division and Nirvana. Diggle has a lot to say about his The Buzzcocks and notably Pete Shelley, about clashing egos and growing apart in the midst of increasing popularity. He talks about The Beatles, his first impressions of America, and philosophises about art and life. And he is equally candid about himself, about the drug use and drinking and its consequences. Without getting too CSI introspective about it. But the book is loaded with anecdotes, both exhilarating and tragic, funny and cautionary. It never gets boring.

Diggle's a straight shooter, a regular sort of guy with extraordinary talents. I remember seeing the Minutemen in the documentary We Jam Econo, how when they were teenagers, rock stars seemed like Gods or aliens off of a spaceship. And Punk Rock changed all that, because they knew that they could do this, which really meant getting out their and expressing yourself creatively. And a guy like Steve Diggle, despite his accomplishments seems like one of us. A journeyman who just keeps going, a musician without the pretension you see all too often in the biz. Don't get me wrong, he's not humble about what he's done. He just seems to be grounded and realistic about it all.



Harmony In My Head is an interesting worthwhile read for any music fan. And The Buzzcocks are definitely still a band to see live, if my experience is any indication. Get out and see them while you can!

A CT Classic--The Jaguar Hunter by Lucius Shepard--

Welcome to the jungle...

Recently I reread one of my favorite short story anthologies, The Jaguar Hunter by Lucius Shepard. I have to say that when I slowly and carefully pored my way once again through the 14 stories anthologized here, I noticed so much more about his superb and fantastic writing ability. He's probably not one of those guys you will find on the shelves of your local mall bookstore. But he is definitely worth seeking out.

Shepard has abilities on a variety of levels. First and foremost he is an idea guy, with a lot of interesting concepts. He explores his way down a lot of intellectual and philosophical alleys and often takes popular conceits and platitudes to exaggerated and shocking conclusions. In that way, he reminds me a bit like a Kurt Vonnegut but from a younger generation.

He has a wonderful descriptive ability, describing the backdrop of his stories with a lush thoroughness. Though many of his tales are set in Central America (where he spent time in his younger days), his stories take place in many locales that would be deemed exotic at least by the standards of the average American reader. And the descriptions are plausible, in all likelihood a potent combination of life experience and research. And though the stories are grounded in this realism, it is a tribute to this artistic abilities that he manages to take that realism, and mold it, and send it off onto surreal and otherworldly plane. In that respect he reminds me a bit of the great J.G.Ballard. In his stories it often seems that when things start heading south, when your existence is in a state of mortal peril, you realize that people haven't really changed that much over the millenia. Magic and ancient lore mix with world-weary jaded modernity, superstition and magic help to fill in the unintelligible spots, to make life bearable in a changing lonely uncertain and cruel polluted world.

In truth Shepard writes so fluently and with so much kinetic creativity I both awed and more than a little jealous. A few of the stories included in this collection are flat out masterpieces. One is the The Man Who Painted The Dragon Griaule, a captivating Medieval tale that has to be read to believed, a tour de force of descriptive power and a compelling look at the heights and depths of human nature. Another great one is the surreal semi futuristic novella Radiant Green Star, a coming of age and revenge tale set in a Vietnamese traveling circus. It was the last story in the collection and it was probably why I felt so strongly that something needed to be said in a post. Just when the book was nearly perfect I read the finale and I had to make my opinions public.

I could go on and on about these, stories, but I don't want to give it all away. One of my favorites here is Night of White Bhairab an East-West Supernatural showdown set in Nepal. When you read How The Wind Spoke at Madaket you will discover a chilling reason why Hurricanes have names, and a wonderfully written take on the consequences of unrestrained destruction of our environment. If like me, you have spent more than a few summers in Cape Cod, Mass, you will get a Lovecraftian tingle as you turn the pages. Black Coral is tremendous metaphor, comparing human communities to the intertwined community of a coral reef and having the narration in the form of a modern fairy tale. Just audacious!!

I'd like to end this post with a rather lengthy quote from the end of A Spanish Lesson, which I think sums up Lucius Shepard better than I am inadequately doing. A final observation is his passion and fierce unwillingness to tolerate ignorance. Despite the world weariness, there is hope and inspiration in his writing, the thing that helps people get up in the morning to do what they need to do. And He engages you and forces you to think. And his word ring as true today as they did then.

When the tragedies of others become for us diversions, and stories with which to enthrall our friends, interesting bits of data to toss out at cocktail parties, a means of presenting a pose of political concern , or whatever...when this happens we commit the gravest of sins, condemn ourselves to ignominy, and consign the world to a dangerous course. We begin to justify our casual overview of pain and suffering by portraying ourselves as do-gooders incapacitated by the inexorable forces of poverty, famine, and war. "What can I do?" we say. "I'm only one person, and these things are beyond my control. I care about, but there are no solutions."

Yet no matter how accurate this assessment, most of us are relying on it to be true, using it to mask our indulgence, our deep-seated lack of concern, our pathological self-involvement. In adopting this attitude we delimit the possibilities for action by letting events progress to a point at which, indeed, action becomes impossible, at which we can righteously say that nothing can be done. And so we are born, we breed, we are happy, we are sad, we deal with consequential problems of our own, we have cancer, or a car crash, and in the end our problems prove insignificant. Some will tell you that to feel guilt or remorse over the vast inaction of our society is utter foolishness; life, they insist, is patently unfair, and all anyone can do is to look out for his own interest. Perhaps they are right; perhaps we are so mired in our self-conceptions that we can change nothing. Perhaps this is the way of the world. But, for the sake of my soul and because I no longer wish to hide my sin behind a guise of mortal incapacity, I tell you it is not.

So do yourself a favor and get to know the writings of Lucius Shepard. I think that you will not be disappointed. If you are a fan of Harlan Ellison, Jonathan Lethem, or the short stories of T.C. Boyle, you can't go wrong here, or with his many other worthy books.