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David Markson: This is Not a Novel and Other Novels

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David Markson This is Not a Novel and Other Novels

This is Not a Novel and Other Novels: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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David Markson was a writer like no other. In his novels, which have been called “hypnotic,” “stunning,” and “exhilarating” and earned him praise from the likes of Kurt Vonnegut and David Foster Wallace, Ann Beattie and Zadie Smith. Markson created his own personal genre. With crackling wit distilled into incantatory streams of thought on art, life, and death, Markson’s work has delighted and astonished readers for decades. Now for the first time, three of Markson’s masterpieces are compiled into one page-turning volume: , and . In , readers meet an author, called only “Writer,” who is weary unto death of making up stories, and yet is determined to seduce the reader into turning pages and getting somewhere. introduces us to “Author,” who sets out to transform shoeboxes crammed with note cards into a novel. In The Last Novel, we find an elderly author (referred to only as “Novelist”) who announces that, since this will be his final effort, he possesses “carte blanche to do anything he damn well pleases.” United by their focus on the trials, calamities, absurdities and even tragedies of the creative life, these novels demonstrate David Markson’s extraordinary intellectual richness — leaving readers, time after time, with the most indisputably original of reading experiences.

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He who wrote that painting is a higher art than sculpture was as ignorant as a maidservant, said Michelangelo.

Meaning Leonardo.

Chopin died of tuberculosis.

Salvador Dali once gave a lecture in London while wearing a diving helmet.

And nearly suffocated.

Thomas Gainsborough, while painting Sarah Siddons:

Damn your nose, madame! There’s no end to it.

Katherine Anne Porter died of Alzheimer’s disease.

Palestrina’s tomb, once in St. Peter’s, for obscure reasons no longer exists.

Musicae Princeps, it had said. Prince of music.

Would Emily Dickinson have been aware that Lord Jeffrey Amherst arranged for blankets infected with smallpox to be set out for ill-clothed Indians to come upon during the French and Indian War?

The case for William Davenant having been Shakespeare’s illegitimate son.

A Novel Without a Hero. Being the subtitle of Vanity Fair.

Though there, at least in part, meaning only that the book has a heroine instead.

Catullus once wrote a poem criticizing Caesar.

And was invited to dinner.

Osip Mandelstam once wrote a poem criticizing Stalin.

And died in the gulag.

Martin Heidegger, in 1933:

The Führer, and he alone, is the sole German reality and law, today and in the future.

Henry Miller died of cardiovascular failure.

B. Traven died of prostate cancer and sclerosis of the kidneys.

If Stephen Crane had in fact lived on an additional forty-plus years, how different might the hierarchy of American letters have been in that period?

No water-drinker ever wrote a poem that lasted.

Says Horace in the Epistles.

Un livre, c’est la mort d’un arbre.

Said St.-John Perse.

If you find this work difficult, and wearisome to follow, take pity on me, for I have repeated these calculations seventy times.

Wrote Johannes Kepler.

Italo Calvino died of a cerebral hemorrhage.

There is no description of Helen’s beauty anywhere in the Iliad.

Strangely like is she to some deathless goddess to look upon, being all that is said.

Though the Trojan elders do acknowledge that no one could be blamed for having endured a war because of her.

Calderón de la Barca was once arrested for molesting nuns.

The John Dryden translation of Plutarch’s Lives, eternally in print.

Which Dryden evidently did not do, but farmed out.

A face to lose youth for, to occupy age

With the dream of.

The speculation in later antiquity that Euripides had had two wives at the same time.

Life consists in what a man is thinking of all day, Emerson said.

Jean-Paul Sartre played the piano.

George Eliot played the piano.

André Gide played the piano.

The painting has a life of its own, said Jackson Pollock.

Henri Bergson died of pulmonary congestion.

Paul Klee played the violin.

Matisse played the violin.

Jeremy Bentham played the violin, the harpsichord, and the organ.

Schopenhauer was found dead sitting at his breakfast.

All your better deeds / Shall be in water writ, wrote Beaumont and Fletcher, two hundred years before Keats.

Teach me to heare Mermaides singing, wrote Donne, three hundred years before Eliot.

Marie Antoinette sat for twenty portraits by Vigée-Lebrun.

Anne Boleyn played the lute, the harp, the flute, and the rebec. And sang.

Voltaire, in an amiable mood about Jews:

A brigand people, atrocious, loathsome, whose law is the law of savages, and whose history is a tissue of crimes against humanity.

If you will it, it is no dream.

Said Theodor Herzl.

The word Bible never appears in Shakespeare. Jesus Christ is mentioned eleven times.

Cy Young died of a heart attack.

Lou Stevenson, Robert Louis was commonly called.

Dante quotes The Consolation of Philosophy.

Chaucer quotes The Consolation of Philosophy.

Milton quotes The Consolation of Philosophy.

What is Hamlet reading, in Act II Scene ii, when Polonius inquires and Hamlet says Words, words, words?

Polybius died after a fall from a horse.

At eighty-two.

Anacreon choked to death on a grape seed.

At eighty-five.

Walter Scott walked with a limp from childhood polio.

The apparently never to be resolved question of whether it was Byron’s left foot that was crippled, or his right.

Edmund Wilson and a young Lionel Trilling once made use of adjacent urinals in a men’s room at the New School for Social Research. Trilling was thrilled when Wilson indicated familiarity with some of his work.

What tall building could who have shouted this from, that Writer knows it all these decades later?

St. Teresa of Ávila played the tambourine.

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s spelling:

Ullyses.

John Galsworthy died of a brain tumor.

Could Richard the Lion-Hearted speak English?

The traveler with nothing in his pockets whistles indifferently as he strolls past the thief.

Says Juvenal X.

Kant kept a portrait of Rousseau on the wall of his study.

Tolstoy, as a student, wore a medallion portrait of him instead of his Orthodox cross.

His usylessly unreadable Blue Book of Eccles.

Heinrich Schliemann died after collapsing with an unidentified fever on a street in Naples.

George Gissing died of pneumonia.

Watching Edmund Kean. Like reading Shakespeare by flashes of lightning, Coleridge said.

Donatello, at work on his Zuccone, heard muttering at the stone:

Speak, damn you, talk to me.

Pope Clement XIV, on Houdon’s St. Bruno:

That saint would talk, were it not that the rules of his order impose silence.

I gotta use words when I talk to you.

And Sir Launcelot awoke, and went and took his horse, and rode all that day and all night in a forest, weeping.

Sherwood Anderson died of peritonitis after swallowing a toothpick.

Remembering only belatedly re Houdon:

That the Jefferson on the American nickel and the Washington on the quarter are from likenesses of his, also.

For as long as a millennium, until well into the Middle Ages, Menander was the most widely quoted author in Western literature outside of Homer.

The greatest lesbian poet since Sappho, Auden called Rilke.

Teaching, Lilli Lehmann actually tied Geraldine Farrar’s hands behind her back to keep her from gesticulating.

And once threw a book at Olive Fremstad.

Was Moses an Egyptian?

As Manetho insisted twenty-two hundred years before Freud?

Fremstad. Who herself would later even visit a morgue to test the weight of an actual severed head before singing Salome.

A granddaughter of Wagner’s worked as a waitress at Schrafft’s in New York City during World War II.

Dinner at Benjamin Robert Haydon’s studio, St. John’s Wood, December 28, 1817:

Haydon. John Keats. Charles Lamb (drunk). William Wordsworth.

Gaily bedight,

A gallant knight

In sunshine and in shadow. .

Patched together from pieces filched here and there, Beethoven jestingly scribbled on the manuscript of the C-sharp Minor Quartet.

Affording his publisher a fit.

Leonardo is a bore, according to Renoir.

My cook knows more about counterpoint, said Handel the first time he heard Gluck.

Let us go closer to the fire and see what we are saying.

Thomas Girtin, who was dead of tuberculosis at twenty-seven:

Had he lived I should have starved, said Turner.

Flaubert died of what was then called apoplexy, i.e., presumably a stroke.

If its length is not considered a merit it has no other, said Edmund Waller of Paradise Lost.

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