I will accept no questions this week about exactly where I am in the reading. Suffice it to say, matters were not helped by an especially raucus Dyngus Day celebration! And then I got all angry about some marketing copy I found. And then someone told me I smelled like Indian food. Really, it’s been a rough week.
Still, here we are eleven (11!) weeks in, with double-digit comments and the very real prospect that significant bucks will be spent on mugs before this thing is through. Thanks all for hanging in there. And once again, extra special thanks to the redoubtable Steve “Heurtebise” Evans for cooking up some nigh-edible summarizing notes. Tuesday 4/17: It’s a shorter than usual romp — let’s call it a catch-up week for folks like me who could use one, without actually taking a full week off. I’ll see ya at the bottom of page 587 where word is someone “had better kiss her, and soon.” (which is to say…. please use this thread to comment on anything up to page 587. Aim to finish reading that part of the book and to comment on it here by end o’ day next Monday)
Pugnax!
-Cecil
15 comments for “The Against the Day Deathmarch, Week 11”
Computilo
April 13, 2007 at 7:45 am
As some may know, Vonnegut is a hero in my home state of Indiana, home also of James Dean, Red Buttons, Booth Tarkington, John Dillinger (who lived down the street from one of my friends), David Letterman, and other well- and lesser-known luminaries. What with Vonnegut’s sad passing this week and being embroiled in all the national poetry month rss feeds going on, I’m actually a teeny-tiny bit behind on my ATD readings. However, I have reached the part where our intrepid Chums-of-Chance fry cook gets involved with someone playing a Chopin nocture on a ukelele and making a startling discovery about time, space, and deception. Which chums are realkly chums? That alone was worth the price of admission.
I’m being bold enough to defy my caridologist’s orders, and am taking some exercise again. Which means I get some time to read again. I’m slowly catching up. I’m reading about the Quaterionists’ convention, and am finally getting what the hell he means about Quaterionists vs. Vectorists. The Wikipedia article just gave me facts, he gave me meaning. Thanks for throwing it in so late TP! (On the other hand it give me a new twist on dimension hopping that I hadn’t heard before.)
A quick little throwaway line that I HAD to point out. He mentions Tasmania as having “yellow skies.” This is a joke from the highly under-rated 1990s cartoon show Taz-mania. “The sky’s always yellow, come rain or shine.” Nice to know he’s democratic in his tastes.
I just finally tied in the times of King Leopold & his evil deeds with the over-running of “Poor Belgium” during WWI. And I’m glad to see Kit go back to the “real” world in the story, I hope he appears more.
My travels last week prevented me from posting how much I enjoyed p. 538. If the Gentleman’s Code really does struggle against the possibility of a free meal, is he really a gentleman? The Quaternionist minding his p’s and q’s (oops, I mean S’s and q’s) to win big gambling is one of those eternal cliches so beloved by Plato, most recently seen when Hiro stopped time on Heroes. The Hegelian/pun comment, summarizing three semester credits of my B.A. And on the facing page we have Dr. Rao going blonde via yoga positions which are “contrary-to-fact” (which is how I feel about roughly half of ’em) but non-commutative.
Would someone please post a translation of “mousée”?
As for this week’s section: the last bed-throes of Kit and Umeki is actually written as a tender, very mainstream scene. After Kit’s Aetheric dreams, I read the morning dialogue and re-read it, thinking I had missed a punch line. I’m certain it’s not the last time we’ll see Umeki, and I’m hoping it’s not the last time we see her in bed; the story needs a few more sweet encounters to take the edge off bruised wrists and leather.
Vonnegut & Pynchon were often thrown together as a group that included Barth & Heller as well. As time wore on, the likes of Delillo, Ishmael Reed, William Gaddis and Tom Robbins got added and Vonnegut & Heller got questioned as legitimately “literary.” For my money, Kurt’s books are still great reads and some of them remain important statements of their times (though I am more likely to be rereading/teaching Pynchon, Reed, and Delillo).
still taggin along, approaching 200… Do I get credit for dragging it along on weekly flights to NYC? Hard to get far on shuttle flights though. Enjoying, always challenged and impressed by the sense that there seems to be a master plan somewhere in the mish mash that is god-like in it’s complexity, like real life…
I mistakenly first opened the link for comments on the passing of Kurt Vonnegut, and it made sense that the AtD deathmarchers might be focused on his passing, as some apparently are.
We read Harrison Bergeron in one of the lower grades, when I didnt read at all outside of school, and that story always stayed with me. Years later a friend told me to read Welcome to the Monkey House and I really enjoyed it. That lead me to reading a bunch of Vonnegut books over the years, probably more than Ive read from any one author. He probably does have a very high percentage of repeat readers. And with good cause.
I like this book in some ways like how I enjoy Vonnegut books – looking at certain elements, like time, in a broad and interesting way, and in offering good social commentary. Here, Viktor Mulciber on arms: “One glance at any government budget anywhere in the world tells the story – the money is always in place, already allocated, the motive everywhere is fear, the more immediate the fear, the higher the multiples.”
Vonnegut’s death made no impression on me. I’ve never read any of his books nor have I met him for drinks on Bleeker St.
That being said, I’ve caught up and have 20 pages for tonight and I’m back on track. Thanks for the short quota. I’ve decided that there hasn’t been enough devient sex in this turned western.
catching up, not there yet–but the plane time helped….the chums harmonica band trippy experience is most present (whatever “present” now means), and i hope there’s to be more of this everthing-you-know-is-wrong stuff. also enjoying the seam of regret and wistfulness, always delicately described; draws me back in while the slapstick keeps me at a little distance. plenty of room for both, but i most love the tiny observations.
Storm is playing havoc with my internet connection, so while I have one, here’s a placeholder for this week. I expect the madeleines will also be delayed by about a day….
Heurtebise
what strikes me most reading this section is how Pynchonisticism has come to permeate my general outlook or philosophical bent. i’m trying to figure out why or how his knitting of the real with the fantastical (and spectral) along with the particular repeated threads or mirror images of timelessly repeated events both horrific and beneficent makes my thinking so particularly different. maybe it’s the slow, steady way we’re reading this monster. could also simply be that i’m turning 40 in a few weeks and am totally reshaping my everything. the thin veil of time (or Time) that exists between here and paradise seems a very straightforward way of looking at death. fascinating exchange about Madame Butterfly followed by the gift-giving of the ‘Q-weapon’ (suddenly it’s Lord of the Rings) by Kit to Umeki. cannot at all get away from the slipperiness of the concept of terror and/or war; by now this really feels like the primary underlying theme.
somehow I fell behind again this week, so I’ll comment on last week’s stretch. The doppelgäng-ing of the Stupendica and mysticism of Kit and Dally’s subsequent travels bothered me. It all seemed glib and insubstantial. Almost like the author doesn’t think it matters all that much. It’s an enjoyable reading, what with the catchy names and outrageous situations, but kind of like eating a large bag of potato chips for dinner.
Trapped in the bowels of the Emperor Maximilian, Kit is asked “How good can your chances be of getting there if you’re hiding down here like us?” His reply confirms what we, as readers this far into the story, we had no reason to doubt: it’s only a “Temporary seback.”
Accompanied by a small street-ensemble of accordion, glockenspeil, baritone saxophone, and drums, I’ll sing, in a bouncy 6/8, that I’ve reached the halfway point. I’m sad about Vonnegut, who I once saw read in Berkeley, then saw again after the event, walking down the street alone, looking for a bar, I think, and presenting the essence of sadness.
As some may know, Vonnegut is a hero in my home state of Indiana, home also of James Dean, Red Buttons, Booth Tarkington, John Dillinger (who lived down the street from one of my friends), David Letterman, and other well- and lesser-known luminaries. What with Vonnegut’s sad passing this week and being embroiled in all the national poetry month rss feeds going on, I’m actually a teeny-tiny bit behind on my ATD readings. However, I have reached the part where our intrepid Chums-of-Chance fry cook gets involved with someone playing a Chopin nocture on a ukelele and making a startling discovery about time, space, and deception. Which chums are realkly chums? That alone was worth the price of admission.
I would like to preemptively blame my failure to complete this week’s reading on crippling Vonnegut-related depression. Thanks again, Mr. V.
I’m being bold enough to defy my caridologist’s orders, and am taking some exercise again. Which means I get some time to read again. I’m slowly catching up. I’m reading about the Quaterionists’ convention, and am finally getting what the hell he means about Quaterionists vs. Vectorists. The Wikipedia article just gave me facts, he gave me meaning. Thanks for throwing it in so late TP! (On the other hand it give me a new twist on dimension hopping that I hadn’t heard before.)
A quick little throwaway line that I HAD to point out. He mentions Tasmania as having “yellow skies.” This is a joke from the highly under-rated 1990s cartoon show Taz-mania. “The sky’s always yellow, come rain or shine.” Nice to know he’s democratic in his tastes.
I just finally tied in the times of King Leopold & his evil deeds with the over-running of “Poor Belgium” during WWI. And I’m glad to see Kit go back to the “real” world in the story, I hope he appears more.
My travels last week prevented me from posting how much I enjoyed p. 538. If the Gentleman’s Code really does struggle against the possibility of a free meal, is he really a gentleman? The Quaternionist minding his p’s and q’s (oops, I mean S’s and q’s) to win big gambling is one of those eternal cliches so beloved by Plato, most recently seen when Hiro stopped time on Heroes. The Hegelian/pun comment, summarizing three semester credits of my B.A. And on the facing page we have Dr. Rao going blonde via yoga positions which are “contrary-to-fact” (which is how I feel about roughly half of ’em) but non-commutative.
Would someone please post a translation of “mousée”?
As for this week’s section: the last bed-throes of Kit and Umeki is actually written as a tender, very mainstream scene. After Kit’s Aetheric dreams, I read the morning dialogue and re-read it, thinking I had missed a punch line. I’m certain it’s not the last time we’ll see Umeki, and I’m hoping it’s not the last time we see her in bed; the story needs a few more sweet encounters to take the edge off bruised wrists and leather.
Vonnegut & Pynchon were often thrown together as a group that included Barth & Heller as well. As time wore on, the likes of Delillo, Ishmael Reed, William Gaddis and Tom Robbins got added and Vonnegut & Heller got questioned as legitimately “literary.” For my money, Kurt’s books are still great reads and some of them remain important statements of their times (though I am more likely to be rereading/teaching Pynchon, Reed, and Delillo).
still taggin along, approaching 200… Do I get credit for dragging it along on weekly flights to NYC? Hard to get far on shuttle flights though. Enjoying, always challenged and impressed by the sense that there seems to be a master plan somewhere in the mish mash that is god-like in it’s complexity, like real life…
I mistakenly first opened the link for comments on the passing of Kurt Vonnegut, and it made sense that the AtD deathmarchers might be focused on his passing, as some apparently are.
We read Harrison Bergeron in one of the lower grades, when I didnt read at all outside of school, and that story always stayed with me. Years later a friend told me to read Welcome to the Monkey House and I really enjoyed it. That lead me to reading a bunch of Vonnegut books over the years, probably more than Ive read from any one author. He probably does have a very high percentage of repeat readers. And with good cause.
I like this book in some ways like how I enjoy Vonnegut books – looking at certain elements, like time, in a broad and interesting way, and in offering good social commentary. Here, Viktor Mulciber on arms: “One glance at any government budget anywhere in the world tells the story – the money is always in place, already allocated, the motive everywhere is fear, the more immediate the fear, the higher the multiples.”
Vonnegut’s death made no impression on me. I’ve never read any of his books nor have I met him for drinks on Bleeker St.
That being said, I’ve caught up and have 20 pages for tonight and I’m back on track. Thanks for the short quota. I’ve decided that there hasn’t been enough devient sex in this turned western.
catching up, not there yet–but the plane time helped….the chums harmonica band trippy experience is most present (whatever “present” now means), and i hope there’s to be more of this everthing-you-know-is-wrong stuff. also enjoying the seam of regret and wistfulness, always delicately described; draws me back in while the slapstick keeps me at a little distance. plenty of room for both, but i most love the tiny observations.
Storm is playing havoc with my internet connection, so while I have one, here’s a placeholder for this week. I expect the madeleines will also be delayed by about a day….
Heurtebise
what strikes me most reading this section is how Pynchonisticism has come to permeate my general outlook or philosophical bent. i’m trying to figure out why or how his knitting of the real with the fantastical (and spectral) along with the particular repeated threads or mirror images of timelessly repeated events both horrific and beneficent makes my thinking so particularly different. maybe it’s the slow, steady way we’re reading this monster. could also simply be that i’m turning 40 in a few weeks and am totally reshaping my everything. the thin veil of time (or Time) that exists between here and paradise seems a very straightforward way of looking at death. fascinating exchange about Madame Butterfly followed by the gift-giving of the ‘Q-weapon’ (suddenly it’s Lord of the Rings) by Kit to Umeki. cannot at all get away from the slipperiness of the concept of terror and/or war; by now this really feels like the primary underlying theme.
oh, and i do think it appropriate we also send out a harmonic r.i.p. to Don Ho, that great ukelelist in the sky.
placeholder.
goodnight, don.
somehow I fell behind again this week, so I’ll comment on last week’s stretch. The doppelgäng-ing of the Stupendica and mysticism of Kit and Dally’s subsequent travels bothered me. It all seemed glib and insubstantial. Almost like the author doesn’t think it matters all that much. It’s an enjoyable reading, what with the catchy names and outrageous situations, but kind of like eating a large bag of potato chips for dinner.
Trapped in the bowels of the Emperor Maximilian, Kit is asked “How good can your chances be of getting there if you’re hiding down here like us?” His reply confirms what we, as readers this far into the story, we had no reason to doubt: it’s only a “Temporary seback.”
Accompanied by a small street-ensemble of accordion, glockenspeil, baritone saxophone, and drums, I’ll sing, in a bouncy 6/8, that I’ve reached the halfway point. I’m sad about Vonnegut, who I once saw read in Berkeley, then saw again after the event, walking down the street alone, looking for a bar, I think, and presenting the essence of sadness.