Siri Hustvedt: The Summer Without Men

[Mirabell]

Instead, Hustvedt’s book is driven by an almost crystalline clarity, which could also be seen as its main weakness. To some readers it may seem emotionally remote, an effect that derives from the fact that the novel depicts a mind thinking. Mia’s mind is working its way through various sets of knowledge; sets of things she knows and cares about: poems, lists of writers, stray memories. In the process of making sense of a radically changed emotional environment, even other people and events have to fulfill the role of objects about to be cataloged. The overall effect is mesmerizing, and The Summer without Men, while not Hustvedt’s best, is a powerful achievement. One hopes that she’s eventually accorded the place in the canon of major contemporary American novelists she deserves.

full review that's more grumpy complaining about other books than an elaborate take on Hustvedt's own book, can be found here http://shigekuni.wordpress.com/2011/...r-without-men/



It never fails to surprise me that she can be married to such a tone-deaf idiot.

[Mirabell]

Hustvedt's novel has been translated into German already!

[Eric]

There was a very negative review of this book in Private Eye (issue 1286) which, despite being a satirical magazine, has some serious reviews of books.

The anonymous reviewer, in the Literary Review sections, decided that the main character, Mia, is an "thoroughly irritating and self-obsessed bore". The reviewer (man? woman?) really puts the boot in and mentions the fact that Hustvedt is married to the not unknown Paul Auster, whom she quotes in the novel:

It must be marvellous to be able to plug your hubby's books in your own. One hopes Auster is uxorious enough to reciprocate, and has found space for bogus mentions of the phrases "what I loved" or "the sorrows of an American" in one of his books.

[Mirabell]

Oh that's just stupid.


I'm annoyed however by the fact that that the NYTimes devotes only a paragraph to the book http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/21/bo...html?ref=books. Ridiculous, and in that "books by and about women" section, too, which sort of proves Hustvedt's point.

Sad.

[Stiffelio]

Oh that's just stupid.


I'm annoyed however by the fact that that the NYTimes devotes only a paragraph to the book http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/21/bo...html?ref=books. Ridiculous, and in that "books by and about women" section, too, which sort of proves Hustvedt's point.

Sad.

Oh, well. Maybe she doesn't deserve more than a paragraph. They are probably just mentioning her because she's Auster's wife.

[Eric]

Stiffelio touched upon the fact I was trying to point out. It doesn't make any difference that Hustvedt is a woman. If Hustvedt were part of a gay or lesbian couple the issue would be no different. Thousands of women, good and bad, are successful writers. The point here is that an already famous author seems to be bolstering what looks like an excruciating book by the fact that she just happens to be married to Paul Auster. Whether Paul Auster would indeed name-drop about her in a book of his is a moot point.

I do think that having a section to cater for "books by and about women" is silly. Women do not need sheltered workshop treatment. Unlike in sports where muscle-power counts, literature is a field where men and women are quite equal - in the West, at least - when it comes to being allowed to write what they want and getting appreciated for it.

[Mirabell]

Oh, well. Maybe she doesn't deserve more than a paragraph. They are probably just mentioning her because she's Auster's wife.

As I point out in my review, I think she's easily one of the best writers of her generation, and she has garnered quite a bit of critical praise, and she has sold pretty well. INternationally, too. The German release of the book was earlier than the American one, afaik. That's enough to get you covered, isn't it?

[Mirabell]

seems to be bolstering what looks like an excruciating book by the fact that she just happens to be married to Paul Auster.

If you read my review of the fucking book, you'd see that quoting is part of this novel's poetics, which quotes and references several dozens of writers and books. That's why the comment in the esteemed literary publication you quote is stupid; as for you, you're just talking out of your ass again, but then that's just so you.

As for the woman thing, actually, Hustvedt is a great example for this: she tackles similar topics as many major male writers do, sometimes even in the same way, yet she is persistently, annoyingly read and perceived as a woman. A white Western man writing about his own damn cock has a good chance of getting his book read as universal, and read by everyone, and eligible for every damn prize on earth (except, thank God, for prizes like the Orange prize), but a woman (or indeed a less white or western man) doing the same thing, relatively speaking, will always be read and perceived as writing weird parochial, self indulgent prose. That's a simple fact of how prizes and book criticism works (regardless, by the way, whether done by men or women).

[Eric]

I'll read your (Shigekuni's ?) description of the Hustvedt book with pleasure to see whether you can justify your liking for her literature when others slate her, and suggest she is using her husband as a crutch. But please stop calling everything "fucking". You do get a little abusive at times.

[Mirabell]

your liking for her literature when others slate her,

She is widely praised, and I've yet to see someone else "slate" her except for the man quoted in your fucking post earlier.

[Eric]

Let me try to answer you, Mirabell, with honesty and no snide remarks.

I admire you for being able to read books in quick succession and comment on them. This is something I cannot do. I like to savour and ponder before writing any review.

But your review comes out in a manic splurge, where you try to fit in so many ingredients that the reader (me, in this case) loses track of the central red thread or argument in the review. So it is hard for an outsider who has never read one book by Hustvedt, or, for that matter, much American prose, to actually follow your argument. Short paragraphs are a boon.

You also seem to have a thing about defending women against machos and MCPs. I think that most successful women authors would be a little uneasy with being defended all the time against the Great White Male that is threatening them. You have read my very sarcastic comments on the Orange Prize, and these words come from the same stable: I can't imagine why women writers need a sheltered workshop to work in. Women writers were not given much of a chance in pre-Virginia Woolf days. But now, when half the key people in the publishing world are women, women writers don't need protection and support against the angry world outside, especially from well-meaning youngish males. I feel that Hustvedt is being especially devious because she is using a Great White Male to support her book: her own husband.

When I see the book, I'll look at it. But even in your review there are warning signals. I am afraid that Hustvedt is maybe universalising middle-class American problems as those of the whole world. While many American values are admirable, I wonder whether people in, for instance Europe, are going to warm to this book. Are ex-Soviet women going to recognise Hustvedt's problems - or think of them as those of the luxurious and agónising West?

I would love to read a much more concise review that explains how Hustvedt blends in the essayistic elements without becoming preachy.

But I'll look at the book, to give her her fair dues.

[Mirabell]

Let me try to answer you, Mirabell, with honesty and no snide remarks.

I admire you for being able to read books in quick succession and comment on them. This is something I cannot do. I like to savour and ponder before writing any review.

But your review comes out in a manic splurge, where you try to fit in so many ingredients that the reader (me, in this case) loses track of the central red thread or argument in the review. So it is hard for an outsider who has never read one book by Hustvedt, or, for that matter, much American prose, to actually follow your argument. Short paragraphs are a boon.

You also seem to have a thing about defending women against machos and MCPs. I think that most successful women authors would be a little uneasy with being defended all the time against the Great White Male that is threatening them. You have read my very sarcastic comments on the Orange Prize, and these words come from the same stable: I can't imagine why women writers need a sheltered workshop to work in. Women writers were not given much of a chance in pre-Virginia Woolf days. But now, when half the key people in the publishing world are women, women writers don't need protection and support against the angry world outside, especially from well-meaning youngish males. I feel that Hustvedt is being especially devious because she is using a Great White Male to support her book: her own husband.

When I see the book, I'll look at it. But even in your review there are warning signals. I am afraid that Hustvedt is maybe universalising middle-class American problems as those of the whole world. While many American values are admirable, I wonder whether people in, for instance Europe, are going to warm to this book. Are ex-Soviet women going to recognise Hustvedt's problems - or think of them as those of the luxurious and agónising West?

I would love to read a much more concise review that explains how Hustvedt blends in the essayistic elements without becoming preachy.

But I'll look at the book, to give her her fair dues.

1. It is stupid to claim that the book is in any way supported by one five word Auster quote

2. I suggested several reasons in this thread and my review why the Orange prize might be a problem

3. Hustvedt's not universalizing anything. It's a story about one person.

4. I'm sorry the review is asking too much of you. Next time I'll try to appeal to the lazy bigoted reader demographic.

[Bubba]

and she has garnered quite a bit of critical praise

Fuck, Mirabell, who are these "critics" whose opinions you apparently set such store by? The usual New York sycophants?

[Mirabell]

Fuck, Mirabell, who are these "critics" whose opinions you apparently set such store by? The usual New York sycophants?

Oh darling, next time, try to follow the conversation. I replied to the suggestion that 'others slate her' and that she was only mentioned because of mentioning Auster. I suggested that both are not really the case. You don't need to look at American critics if you don't want. Look at german critics http://www.perlentaucher.de/suche?sid=349689201&start=1 none of which are based in New York. Hustvedt has enjoyed near-universal acclaim.

And yet, she has not yet been accorded the place in American prose that other writers like Powers or indeed Auster have.

[Flower]

I haven't read her latest novels but to me "The sorrow of an American" really put her up the among the best!

I have been meaning to read "A plea for eros" for years now but never gotten around to it. Have you read it, Marcel?

Apparently Hilary Mantel has reveiwed "The shaking woman" see link http://sirihustvedt.net/works/

[Stiffelio]

she is vastly better than Franzen................. Auster or Franzen don't have an ounce of Hustvedt's precision and brilliance, yet they reap praise and prizes for inferior work. Another writer neglected for her lack of cock is Paula Fox. I was tempted to review one of her novels recently, which has a foreword by Franzen, and to read her perfectly tallied and balanced prose in connection with the bloated prose of that idiot was striking.

Geeez, Mirabell! You were doing fine up to now, holding your ground and blindly rooting for this Husvedt lady, until your senseless remarks above, with which you are sadly doing a disservice to your credibility as a reviewer/critic. I have the suspicion that you've never even completed reading a book by Franzen.

Re: the Sustvedt + Auster marketing antics, I must tell you that these are even more notorious in the Spanish publishing world. Auster signed off for Anagrama on condition that they take in Sustvedt along with him. They even go to the extent of marketing their books as a combo. It's really pathetic. And the name dropping doesn't stop at Auster-Sustvedt and viceversa. Apparently they have this on going game with Enrique Vila-Matas, their close friend, who names them in his last novel Dublinesca and is short of pronouncing them the royal couple of Brooklyn.

[Bubba]

Geeez, Mirabell! You were doing fine up to now, holding your ground and blindly rooting for this Husvedt lady, until your senseless remarks above, with which you are sadly doing a disservice to your credibility as a reviewer/critic. I have the suspicion that you've never even completed reading a book by Franzen.

Re: the Sustvedt + Auster marketing antics, I must tell you that these are even more notorious in the Spanish publishing world. Auster signed off for Anagrama on condition that they take in Sustvedt along with him. They even go to the extent of marketing their books as a combo. It's really pathetic. And the name dropping doesn't stop at Auster-Sustvedt and viceversa. Apparently they have this on going game with Enrique Vila-Matas, their close friend, who names them in his last novel Dublinesca and is short of pronouncing them the royal couple of Brooklyn.

Ah, Stiffelio, you talk about this couple's "notorious marketing antics" as if there were something sly or underhanded about them, as if they were cosas de rusos, as a good Argentine might say with a sneer. But I see only a man who is trying to boost his woman's career--she is, in the charming terms used by American academics, the trailing spouse--and if he has the power to demand publication of her work, good for him. And if Anagrama can find enough Argentines foolish enough to buy enough Auster books to make agreeing to Auster's demands a profitable proposition, good for Anagrama. Auster, his wife, and Anagrama are merely looking out for themselves, as well they should be--the real problem is with readers who are slaves to literary fashion (perhaps he has since gone out of style, but, some years ago, when I was living in Buenos Aires, Auster was all the rage, his name was on everybody's lips).

As for Vila-Matas, whose names does he not drop in his books?

[Mirabell]

I have the suspicion that you've never even completed reading a book by Franzen.

Oh darling, if only that were the case, if only! Franzen is a bit like Auster in that I keep buying/reading their books despite smelling the stench of mediocrity wafting down from their place on my shelf. And why would I not finish the books? Do you consider them difficult? If so, I would worry if I were you and quickly pick up an actually challenging book.

[Mirabell]

Ah, Stiffelio, you talk about this couple's "notorious marketing antics" as if there were something sly or underhanded about them, as if they were cosas de rusos, as a good Argentine might say with a sneer. But I see only a man who is trying to boost his woman's career--she is, in the charming terms used by American academics, the trailing spouse--and if he has the power to demand publication of her work, good for him. And if Anagrama can find enough Argentines foolish enough to buy enough Auster books to make agreeing to Auster's demands a profitable proposition, good for Anagrama. Auster, his wife, and Anagrama are merely looking out for themselves, as well they should be--the real problem is with readers who are slaves to literary fashion (perhaps he has since gone out of style, but, some years ago, when I was living in Buenos Aires, Auster was all the rage, his name was on everybody's lips).

As for Vila-Matas, whose names does he not drop in his books?

You know what the funniest thing about this is? I bet you and Stiffelio do not see eye-to-eye on Franzen or Auster and yet here you find an opportunity to agree, and all it takes is a female novelist to condescend to. Ah, it fills my heart with song.

[Bubba]

You know what the funniest thing about this is? I bet you and Stiffelio do not see eye-to-eye on Franzen or Auster and yet here you find an opportunity to agree, and all it takes is a female novelist to condescend to. Ah, it fills my heart with song.

I don't see how it is condescending to point out an apparent fact: that in the Spanish-speaking world Auster has more pull than Hustvedt (and that he is willing to use this pull to further her career). In what parallel universe, oh Master Gradgrind, Master Gradgrind, does a fact become condescending? You will note, too, that I do not comment on the relative merits of their work, and if you assume that I assume that a writer's pull with publishers is indicative of his or her merit, then it is you who are being condescending, not I.

I don't know about Stiffelio, but I have no plans to read Franzen, didn't like the couple of Auster novels I read, and didn't make it all the way through a Hustvedt essay I started not long ago (I agreed with her points on "islands" of knowledge but simply wasn't taken by the piece).

Again, I'm always delighted when I come across excellent novelists--it happens rarely enough--and I'll give them their due whether they are men or women. I'm also quite willing to point out examples of what I think are undeserving men novelists who have ridden their wives' skirts into prominence. O'Neill's Netherland, for example, owes the praise initially heaped on it to the influence of his wife, a well-known New York City editor and media personality whose name escapes me just now.

Lately, there have been lots of women critics--and a few pathetic male auxiliaries--arguing for equal treatment for men and women novelists. The argument would appear to be a good one, except that the thrust of it is apparently that a bunch of mediocre female novelists should be given more attention, more reviews, so that they'll get just as much attention and as many reviews as their mediocre male counterparts. I'm not against equal treatment, but I would rather the Austers and the Hustvedts be ignored equally.

Finally, Mirabell, as I said above, the male auxiliaries in this particular fight are pathetic. The women don't need the help, and the men who are offering it come across as insincere or naive, sort of like immigrants who try too hard to pass for natives of the country they've moved to. It's hard for me to explain why, but these male auxiliaries invariably strike me as very nearly as condescending as the male chauvinists who automatically belittle anything written by women. Consider it friendly advice.