Reading Well: Celine by Peter Heller

In my writeup of Peter Heller‘s The Last Ranger, I wrote

Heller’s gifts are in his descriptions of the natural world and in his explorations of alternate modes of contemporary masculinity, and both are on full display in The Last Ranger.

His 2017 novel, Celine, is mostly set among the National Parks of the Midwest, so the former is on full display. But the protagonist–a first for me in the four novels I’ve read by him (Dog Star was before Reading Well existed, The Painter was the first entry in the series, and my comments on The River are here)–is not a middle-aged man, wrestling with some fair bit of alienation, but rather a female senior citizen who occasionally needs oxygen for her emphysema.

She’s also a crack shot with any firearm she finds, and a registered PI, so there’s that. Still.

As in most of Heller’s work there are multiple things going on at once: here, an engaging, page-turner of a murder mystery sits alongside some wry and very sweet observations about aging and the possibilities of mature relationships, both romantic and familial, all set against Heller’s incomparable descriptions of nature and his clear love for the beauty of the American Midwest.

It feels like Heller could have developed an entire franchise around Celine and her adventures, but as far as I know he has refrained from doing so. I’d read more of her adventures, for sure.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Listen/Here: Extra by Peter Evans

One of my favorite things musically is when someone I’ve never heard of blows me away: it reminds me of just how much effing music there is in the world, and how deep it goes. Sometimes these musicians are deep cuts, but more often, they are giants in their field that I’ve just missed.

Well, hello there, Peter Evans.

I was introduced to Evans by my favorite up and coming jazz trumpeter, and saw him perform a solo set live, which was the most incredible 25 minutes of melodic improvisation and continuous circle breathing I’ve seen. So I went out and got a bunch of his music, and the random number generator decided we would write about Extra, a trio release from 2024.

Petter Eldh, a Swedish avant-garde bassist, was known to me from a collaboration with Kaja Draksler; Jim Black, the drummer, was a new discovery.

I think Evans’ gift is to play in a very abstract form without ever losing touch with melody, and with the his ability to use his supernaturally pure tone and technique to help guide and ground the listener. The staccato rhythm of In See are a great example of this, and even in a track like Boom, which may be too unstructured for some, Evans’ melodic lines allows a path to be followed aurally from beginning to end.

Extra has three short (sub 3 minute) motifs (Nova, Fully Born, and The Lighthouse), of which Nova serves as the best showcase for Evans’ unmatched technique and tone. The Lighthouse, however, is notable: you wonder where Evans is until you realize the rhythmic bass puffs are actually produced on his horn.

There is a misstep on the album for me, but the less said about Movement 56, the better.

Overall, a very strong recommendation as an introduction to one of the leading contemporary trumpeters stretching out in a somewhat experimental trio setting.

Favorite Track: In See

Extra (2024).

Peter Evans: piccolo trumpet, flugelhorn & piano
Petter Eldh: bass & synthesizer
Jim Black: drums & electronics

Bandcamp

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Vengeance is Mine by Maria NDiaye

Maria Ndiaye‘s 2023 novel Vengeance is Mine was recommended by a few best-of lists at the end of 2024, so I hopped on.

This is a pretty short review as, sad to say, it just never came together for me. The novel–translated from French, which always raises a question of fidelity–focuses on a female protagonist who is struggling to make sense of a traumatic episode from her childhood, an event pulled into the present when she is chosen as the legal representative in a horrific case involving (perhaps–she is never quite sure) the same family of that fateful afternoon of her youth.

And … that’s it, really.

There are some engaging long monologues that I think would work really well as fodder for an acting class, and I was very engaged with the protagonist, especially early on in the novel. But it never really came together for me. Can’t love everything you read.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Tremor by Teju Cole

Almost a decade ago (!), I wrote about Teju Cole‘s 2012 novel, Open City.

Many of those same comments apply to Tremor, published in 2023. Cole’s ability to pay attention to characters and their emotional lives on the one hand and the world of ideas and intellectual musings on the other remains fantastic, and that interplay dominates much of Tremor.

Like Open City, Tremor is a novel of the diaspora, and its protagonist is likewise challenged by their identity as an African in the USA. Here, they are an artist: a photographer and a scholar, and a bit of a wanderer (these are, fwiw, these descriptors also apply to Cole himself). Also like Open City, while there is a plot–things do happen–the core of the book are the musings of the characters, the elegant and thoughtful short journeys into questions of history, of ethics, of contemporary politics. Perhaps this is a projection fueled by Cole’s own claim of Tremor being an attempt to capture the pre-pandemic world, but I did have a sense of foreboding reading it, a notion that there was some unknown doom lurking in the future for all involved.

There is an interlude towards there end where Cole breaks the ongoing narrative for a chapter containing a multitude of short narratives describing different people’s experiences of life in Lagos. It’s a sharp interruption, and may not work for some readers; however, I found it effective, communicating the diversity, complexity, and variety of experiences and perspectives that abound in his hometown. I think the purpose of this section is to intentionally decenter the narrative, to insist that each scene, each moment that Cole describes is merely from a particular perspective, representing, if you will, a particular snapshot with a particular point of view.

I enjoy Cole immensely, and feel drawn deeply into his musings and his characters. If novels of ideas are of interest, highly recommended.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Absolution by Jeff Vandermeer

I have previously written about Jeff Vandermeer‘s Southern Reach Trilogy, as well as his short-story collection, The Third Bear.

Like many of his fans, I figured we were done with the Southern Reach, but no: 2024 saw the publication of Absolution, which is mostly a prequel but also a bit of a sequel (that will make more sense to Vandermeer fans) to the trilogy.

It’s all here: the creepy, fungal dread that permeates the landscape; the paranoia that fuels the internal lives of the main characters; the pseudo-mystic revelations that may or may not have their basis in biological sciences.

There’s really not a lot else to say: if you know Vandermeer’s work and like it, this is required reading, and won’t disappoint; if you’re new to Vandermeer, start with the trilogy and you will very quickly–like within 50 pages very quickly–know if he is for you or not.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Titanium Noir by Nick Harkaway

Nick Harkaway’s Gnomon remains one of my favorite novels, and I’ve been meaning to read more of his work since then. His 2023 noir sc-fi, Titanium Noir, does not disappoint.

It’s very much what I would call contemporary noir: dark with complicated morality, a lurking presence of violence, a seemingly unattainable love interest, and a setting that moves between a nicely detailed gritty underworld and richly opulent locales. All this with a sci-fi overlay–the novel is set in a future where a very small number of people have access to bodily enhancements that further accelerate and solidify their position in the elite stations of power.

The setting is a deftly realized city, starkly drawn with neighborhoods and geographic markers that anchor the plot, and the protagonist is straight out of noir central, which you will either enjoy or roll your eyes at. If you’re in the former, camp, this is very highly recommended.

I just learned that another story with the same protagonist is due out later this year, which is an exciting development.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Listen/Here: Two by the Tuva Halse Quintet

Next up, we have Two, a 2023 release from the Tuva Halse Quintet, led by the young Norwegian violinist and composer herself, Tuva Halse (wikipedia | website).

I’ve always thought violins are an especially tricky instrument in jazz–there is a quality to the sound that sometimes reminds one of muzak and, hence, a decently high bar to clear. On Two, this is alleviated somewhat by the presence of the rest of the quintet, and the sparse, almost restrained, nature of Halse’s compositions.

Halse’s skill with the instrument is undeniable, and her playing is at its best when her instrument is taking on the role of a lead horn–think saxophone or trumpet–or when it is incorporating the unique sounds of a stringed instrument: pizzicato, bow strikes, etc.

The album is entirely instrumental, other than wordless singing on the final track, Why It Didn’t.

This is straight-ahead Nordic jazz and, for some, may too easily fade into the background. But when the group hits something (and overall Halse’s skill as a composer/arranger is impressively on display), like the opening piano melody of Zeptember or the complex horn and violin interplay of Gemini, it’s very, very good.

The work of Oscar Andreas Haug on trumpet and Benjamín Gísli Einarsson on piano is especially notable.

Overall, a good, if unspectacular, album.

Favorite Track: Gemini

Two (2023).

Tuva Halse – violin, compositions
Oscar Andreas Haug – trumpet
Benjamín Gísli Einarsson – piano
Gard Kronborg – bass
Øyvind Leite – drums

Bandcamp

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: White Out by Michael Clune

Part Proustian memoir, part recovery narrative, Michael Clune‘s White Out (2013) was gifted to me due to its similarity in topic and tone to Denis Johnson‘s masterful short-story collection Jesus’ Son.

There is a struggle at the center of many recovery narratives, where they are most engaging at their most destructive: what addicts do in service of their addiction is often more compelling than their recovery. This is true of White Out, but Clune’s startling skill as a writer provides additional layers of insight that carry the narrative beyond the (successful and not) capers that occur in pursuit of the next high during his years balancing graduate school and serious addiction.

Perhaps the strongest part of White Out is Clune’s ability to describe the absolute iron will of addiction, they operational logic that drove him to, without question, act in ways that were clearly neither in his best interest nor particularly likely to succeed.

In this, there is certainly a similarity to Jesus’ Son, but I would say, other than the specific topic at hand, the gap between fiction and memoir keeps the two works very far apart.

Again and again, the star of the show in White Out is Clune’s command of language, and the creativity and lyricism of his writing shines throughout. Clune’s writing is simultaneously poetic, direct, and evocative, a very hard combination to pull off, especially in a memoir, without feeling forced or performative. He does it, and it comes as no surprise that, after his recovery, he completed graduate school and moved on to teach English and creative writing.

The topic, and Clune’s experiences, aren’t for everyone. But if this piques your interest, you’ll enjoy it.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Reading Well: The Angel of the Crows by Katherine Addison

I’m quickly becoming a Katherine Addison fan, having thoroughly enjoyed both The Goblin Emperor and its two psuedo-sequels, The Witness for the Dead and The Grief of Stones. Those lead me to her 2020 novel, The Angel of the Crows.

It was not at all what I expected. I’m not sure what exactly I expected, but a recasting of Sherlock Holmes where Holmes himself is an angel (wings and all) of ambiguous status, Watson is a hell-hound named Doyle, and Moriarty is a vampire was not on my bingo card.

It is–of course–derivative, and Doyle and the Angel revisit many of Holmes’ more famous cases, all the while also investigating the horrific activities of Jack the Ripper. But it works: the characters are somehow unique, in spite of their reliance on the source material, and the escapades never feel forced, or like they are constrained by Arthur Conan Doyle’s writings.

Addison describes The Angel of the Crows as having emerged from a particular sub-genre of fan fiction called wingfic, where a character in an existing is given wings, and things go from there.

It’s compelling and thoroughly enjoyable if you like Holmes, mysteries, and a dollop of fantasy.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Listen/Here: SPIN by Nik Bärtsch’s Ronin

Welcome to installment #2 of Listen/Here. As a reminder, I’m picking randomly from recently purchased albums and writing short reviews, modeled, somewhat, on the Reading Well posts.

Today, we’re listening to SPIN, a 2024 release from Nik Bärtsch’s Ronin (spelled Baertsch in locales that don’t use an umlaut–including his website. Here is his wikipedia page.)

I don’t remember when I first ran across Nik Bärtsch’s Ronin (it’s a bit of an awkward moniker, but there ya’ go), but I think it was about a decade ago. The music made me sit up and take notice: there is something about it that elevates it above the field. It’s clearly highly structured–Bärtsch calls each piece a modul, and they are simply numbered, and I think every track I’ve heard has a repetitive, propulsive, build to it, constructed around Bärtsch’s keyboard work, but always sharing the spotlight, especially with Sha on reeds.

These are long-form compositions, ranging from 10 (ish) to 15 (ish) minutes each, totally instrumental.

Bärtsch’s moduls feel like what might happen if jazz and post-rock had a wonderfully gifted child who was strongly attracted to structure, form, and rhythmic play. That’s right up my ally.

I suspect the secret sauce is jazz, that is, while there aren’t really traditional jazz structures here–no extended solos, for example–there is a complexity, a resistance to strict repetition and an overall attention that craft that speaks, I would guess, to training steeped deeply in those traditions.

It’s all a bit enthralling, especially when, as in Modul 66, Modul 70-51 (evidently a reworking of an earlier piece–IDK, I’m not that deep into the lore of Ronin and the moduls), the groove gets going. This also happens in spectacular fashion in the second halves of Modul 14 and Modul 23.

Favorite Track: There is what may very well be a weakness of the project in that, ultimately, there is a similarity that makes them hard to distinguish. But the second half of Modul 23 is such a great build and finale, I’ll go with that.

SPIN (2024).

Nik Bärtsch: piano, keyboard
Sha: bass clarinet, alto saxophone
Jeremias Keller: bass
Kaspar Rast: drums

Bandcamp

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment