The Sot-Weed Factor by John Barth.

How did you get on with it? It's an extraordinary book, I thought, but hard going in all its self-reflexive cleverness. It's like someone on the spectrum, with a gift for wordplay, has just let rip. — Tom Storm

I'm at page 545 of nearly 800, and still loving it. It's a masterful parody, a technical tour de force, beautifully and transparently written. It's convincing and involving and brilliant.The basic experience is of reading an 18th picaresque novel, not remotely like reading other books labelled as postmodern. If it's self-reflexively clever it's in the same way that, say, Don Quixote or Tristram Shandy are.

On the other hand, it's not an 18th century novel, but a late 20th century one, and that makes it something else, something of an oddity.

It's made me realise that some of what's been called postmodernism is a sort of reactionary reaction to modernism—a traditionalist return to the art of storytelling. It's a masterpiece in my opinion, but would be much easier to digest if I didn't know it was so modern; this fact turns it into something else (the important reference here is the Borges story, "Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote" in which an author faithfully reproduces Don Quixote but in doing so produces an entirely different thing, since it has been produced in a different time and by a different person).

Despite the similar setting and language it's not at all like Pynchon's Mason & Dixon, which is postmodern in subject matter while maintaining the period veneer: Barth isn't willing to mix in conspiracy theories, science fiction, and esoterica—he sticks faithfully to literary tradition, as if in an effort to be comprehensively and performatively anachronistic.

With 200 pages to go I'm getting tired of the convoluted plot, but there's always an adventure, a hilarious mishap, or a fascinating discussion around the next page.

So people have recommended me to start reading the other books by Nietzsche then give TSZ another shot. — NickGoodfella

In philosophy people seem to talk mostly about Genealogy of Morals and Beyond Good and Evil. And in my opinion a great way of approaching those two is to read The Gay Science (or the Joyous Science in a recent translation), which is brilliant and enjoyable.

I gotta go with Vera Mont, here. — tim wood

Of course, you're obnoxiously wrong, as usual.

:up:

:cool:

Someone has made a comic based on it:
https://www.reddit.com/r/scifi/comments/126pky7/rise_of_tomorrows_comic_based_on_the_book_all/

Solaris by Stanisław Lem
The Sot-Weed Factor by John Barth (RIP) — Jamal

I finally finished Solaris. I was half bored, half fascinated. I absolutely loved the fictional history of Solaristics (the scientific study of the planet Solaris), and the incredible chapter called “Monsters,” a brilliant flight of the imagination describing the mysterious observed phenomena of the planet (mimoids, symmetriads, dendromountains, etc). But everything that happened in the station—the focus of the film adaptation(s)—was a bit tedious. I’ll read it again, because it’s a (thematically) big book that exceeds my grasp, but I admired it more than loved it, although I loved it sometimes. Translation issues were apparent once again, even though I read the newer translation.

Just started The Sot-Weed Factor. Beautifully written, overflowing with ideas, and very enjoyable indeed.

You're welcome.

The thing that fascinates me is how big an impact they had on the history of Europe and China and how little we hear about them. — T Clark

Yes, and not only Europe and China. Their invasions in Western Asia (formerly “the Middle East”) had a massive impact. Most famously, the Siege of Baghdad brought the Abbasid Caliphate to an end. As noted in that Wikipedia article, it’s a common view across Muslim cultures that the Mongol conquest caused the Islamic Golden Age to end, hence the subsequent decline of the Islamic world in comparison with Europe.

Derivative of the Cocteau Twins no doubt, but awesome in its own right.

I’ve posted it before.

Ah yes, the Park Hill Estate is quite famous in Britain. Well, at least among those of us who are nostalgic for utopian social housing.

Good choices. The second one is the bus station in Preston, Lancashire. The first one looks like the UK too.

But I’ll have to side with Lionino regarding the building in Sao Paolo. It’s not Brutalist, anyway, I don’t think. I do appreciate its sheer monumentality, though.

Some say it is Brutalist too — javi2541997

Yes, I'd say it fits in that category too.

Casa Mila — mcdoodle

La Pedrera, a masterpiece. :up:

No image is showing up for me. I'm guessing it's this one:



It reminds me of the rich houses of the US South (Louisiana?) Maybe the appeal is its simplicity. It is not over-decorated or showy.

Why were you smoking at this house?

What should we think about the people who live like sardines in a tin in buildings like this one? — javi2541997

I'll wager the apartments in that building are far more spacious and varied than most of today's apartment blocks. It's a famous example of organicism--and this goes back to what @Outlander was saying--in which curves are an important element. Since it's an example of serious, thorough, imaginative architecture, the design carries through to the interiors, i.e., it's not a matter of a decorative facade with a boxy interior as in other styles of architecture.



(although it has to be admitted that this is probably the penthouse)

And here's a better image of the exterior:



https://jaimevalcarce.es/casas-de-autor-edificio-torres-blancas-en-madrid/

Start here:

https://www.rbth.com/arts/336582-stalinist-empire-style-architecture
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stalinist_architecture

You make a good and important point about curves, and it might be significant specifically with respect to Stalinist architecture, which (a) is curveless (aside from arches), and (b) replaced constructivism, which could be quite curvy.

A brief explanation…

Before the Stalinist style took over in the 1930s, a lot of Soviet architecture was part of a movement called constructivism, which was Russia’s early and influential form of modernism. It was experimental and progressive, and motivated by social concerns.

During Stalin’s rule, the priority was to build grand, imposing buildings like wedding cakes: buildings that took classical elements and then inflated and mixed them up to achieve the correct blend of popularity (by which I do not mean popularity with the people who lived and worked in the buildings but with patriotic people in general), power, and propaganda.

Then after Stalin’s death, architects were able to return to modernism again.

I should note that what I’ve said here is a big simplification.

Ma! I want to study there! — javi2541997

I have spent time in one of the other Stalinist skyscrapers, the Hotel Ukraine. They’re not made to be good places to study or live or work, but just to project the power of the state. Magnificent, but inhuman—downright horrible.

But yes, I guess the prestige of the institution, embodied in the building, is surely an attraction to students.

Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II — Lionino

Nice photo, but I don't like the building. I think it's a bombastic and insensitively located monstrosity, and it reminds me of Stalinist architecture: impressive, sure, but totalitarian and tasteless.

I took this a couple of winters ago:



I don't think the building (Moscow State University) is a beautiful thing, and yet it's magnificent and photogenic. It's on Sparrow Hill, a high bank of the river, and can be seen far and wide. Looking in the other direction at the point where the photo was taken, you get a great view of the city.

What @Michael said.

In a sense, Russia was more communist under the tsars than after the revolution:

Until the 1860s, almost all Russian peasants held their land in a form of communal ownership known as obshchina or mir, which was similar, but not identical, to the commons-based communities in pre-industrial England. The communes were arranged in various ways, but typically, each household farmed strips in open fields, and the land was periodically redistributed. Control of common lands and forests was managed by village assemblies. — Monthly Review

No, and it wasn’t a secret. The Party’s official story was that they were working on it, so be patient. Until the eighties they were in the habit of perpetually pushing the future advent of communism later and later, until nobody believed it would ever come.

World Championship snooker from the BBC, my one enthusiasm in the world of sport (although traditionally it was classed as a game). Probably the best TV experience there is.

How did you get on with it? It's an extraordinary book, I thought, but hard going in all its self-reflexive cleverness. It's like someone on the spectrum, with a gift for wordplay, has just let rip. — Tom Storm

It’s lined up and ready to go; I’ll report back when I get around to reading it. I tried a few pages and liked it. A bit like Pynchon’s Mason & Dixon but easier to get into.

Solaris by Stanisław Lem
The Sot-Weed Factor by John Barth (RIP)

:nerd:

I think some passages are translated beautifully, like Katzman’s monologue about the temple of culture near the end, but yeah, the dialogue is really stilted sometimes.

I am still underway in the novel. I will think about that element before commenting. — Paine

:up:

Re-reading The Doomed City by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky — Paine

I just started that too. First time for me. — Jamal

Just finished it. It’s fascinating but difficult. I have a feeling that some of the difficulty is down to what seems to me like a not-so-great translation. The novel is very Russian and I think there’s a lot being lost; I could see the sharp sardonic force of the book only dimly through the clunky English rendering. Certain idioms and styles of humour are rendered awkwardly.

The result is that much of the time it’s difficult to get what the brothers are doing and saying. I’m comfortable with anti-mimetic modernism, with the surreal, the psychologically internal, and the inconclusive; the trouble here was that given the context of SF world-building, I was never quite sure of the status of the irruptions of surrealism, such as the chess game in the Building and Andrei’s speech to the statues. I didn’t know how to take it—were these in fact irruptions, or were they mere intensifications of an already unreal reality?

Anyway, it’s a rich and brilliant novel and I could be wrong about the translation. Reflection is allowing me to develop an understanding of it, but I’ll have to reread it.

I don't know where my answer to Alan1000 went, so I guess a moderator deleted it. Thankfully, you quoted me before it got deleted. — javi2541997

I deleted it because it was extremely low quality. Please calm down and approach this topic in a rational, thoughtful, philosophical manner, or risk having more of your posts deleted.

"But no shit, ok." — Baden

Aristocracies keep alive those endangered pleasures that repel the bourgeoisie. They may seem perverse, but they add to the possibilities of life.

:meh:

How the Mongolians view Genghis Khan.

The Entrepreneurial Operating System® is so effective it’s a wonder nobody has thought of it before.

Joe’s such a loser!

Crash is more uncompromising and better executed than Super-Cannes, and I found it intellectually stimulating, though I can’t say I liked it. Same goes for The Unlimited Dream Company: it’s repetitive and boring, but it’s interesting in that it’s fantastical and celebratory while also apocalyptic.

I once listened to the audiobook of Concrete Island but fell asleep. From what I recall its plot and style were exactly what I expected.

But I can recommend his short story collections, The Disaster Area, and Vermillion Sands.

I just started that too. First time for me.

Super-Cannes by J. G. Ballard. Ballardian creepiness on the French Riviera — Jamal

Plodding, plot-driven, prurient, old-fashioned in a certain upper middle class colonial English kind of way, and incredibly boring. I don’t know why I keep going back to Ballard. Well, I’ll be sure to stay away from his later stuff from now on.

The history of YKK, the zipper king.



It’s is the kind of uselessly interesting viewing that works for me right now, while I am in bed with a transient but bothersome illness.

I’ve seen that. It was a long time ago but I know I liked it. MD is always an engaging presence.

I love rereading books. It makes me feel a sweet nostalgic vibe. — javi2541997

The interesting thing to me is how different they seem at different ages. I’ve read Earthly Powers by Anthony Burgess three times. The first two times, in my twenties and thirties, I thought it was exciting and fun. The last time, in my forties, I found it sad and disturbing.

Currently reading: The Tunnel, Ernesto Sábato. A classic of Argentine literature. A novel of gorgeous existentialism and a sense of despair. — javi2541997

I’ve added it to my list. Argentina has been good to me so far with fiction.

I have a few things going:

Getting into Death, a collection of stories by Thomas M. Disch. The one called “The Asian Shore” is top tier. Check it out.

Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban, a post-apocalyptic SF novel written in its own unique dialect.

Super-Cannes by J. G. Ballard. Ballardian creepiness on the French Riviera.

Hothouse by Brian Aldiss. I read it in my teens; time for a reread.

Diseases of the Head: Essays on the Horrors of Speculative Philosophy, edited by Matt Rosen, an open access book you can download freely online. It’s “an anthology of essays from contemporary philosophers, artists, theorists, and writers working, broadly speaking, at the crossroads of speculative philosophy and speculative horror.”

Multicultural Dynamics and the Ends of History : Exploring Kant, Hegel, and Marx by Real Fillion, which is an attempt to rehabilitate speculative philosophy of history and “rearticulate a sense of the movement of history as a developmental whole,” with its own dynamics and telos.

Time and Free Will by Henri Bergson. Starts well:

We necessarily express ourselves by means of words and we usually think in terms of space. That is to say, language requires us to establish between our ideas the same sharp and precise distinctions, the same discontinuity, as between material objects. This assimilation of thought to things is useful in practical life and necessary in most of the sciences. But it may be asked whether the insurmountable difficulties presented by certain philosophical problems do not arise from our placing side by side in space phenomena which do not occupy space, and whether, by merely getting rid of the clumsy symbols round which we are fighting, we might not bring the fight to an end. When an illegitimate translation of the unextended into the extended, of quality into quantity, has introduced contradiction into the very heart of the question, contradiction must, of course, recur in the answer.

Banned @Vaskane for flaming (even after multiple warnings) and low quality.