A Clockwork Orange

Anthony Burgess seemed to think that his seminal novel A Clockwork Orange wouldn't be as remembered if it weren't for Stanley Kubrick's acclaimed film version. According to Burgess, his best-known work is a simple morality tale, and he was less than thrilled that a) the American publisher omitted his final chapter, and b) that his work was the basis for a film that appears to glorify sex and violence. Although Burgess would prefer his work to have been presented unbowdlerized, he's not enamored with it: "I should myself be glad to disown it for various reasons" and that the work is "too didactic to be artistic", he says in the introduction.

I don't think that Burgess' American publisher was wrong in thinking the twenty-first chapter was a sellout. Burgess himself admits that there was no hint of change in the previous chapter, nor in the rest of the proceeding book. So while the author may contend that the twenty-first chapter is necessary symbolically, morally, and from a storytelling perspective, it certainly feels tacked on as it's a massive change in direction from the remainder of the novel, particularly a novel that is broken into three sections. So on the one hand, I'm not particularly satisfied with the final chapter, due to its stark difference from the rest of the novel. However, as Burgess points out, omitting it leaves something that's less a novel and more a fable.

Overall, I'm glad to finally tick this off my list, but I can't say that this is something I much enjoyed.

The Tin Drum

Yet another winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, Gunter Grass' The Tin Drum is a novel that I'd already like to reread; this is due to the novel's complicated and subtle rhythm, designed to evoke the titular drumming. Grass frequently lays out passages that swell and build in intensity, as in a cadence. Such writing must be a bear to translate, and Breon Mitchell covers some of the steps he took in his re-translation, including working with Grass.

Our protagonist is Oskar Matzerath, who is a classic unreliable narrator -- the story is written as his memoirs, composed while he's imprisoned in a mental institution. Oskar has spent his entire life as a dwarf; he claims that he hurled himself down a flight of cellar stairs on his third birthday to retard his growth,
which is a claim that we should treat with skepticism if Oskar was not chosen to represent the German people.

Later, after his (presumptive) father's death, Oskar resolves to grow. He doesn't reach normal adult height, though -- becoming a hunchback, with limited stature. Again, suggesting that Germany's political state is not quite normal. Oskar almost achieves normalcy, though -- his mother had promised him a tin drum on his third birthday. When Oskar receives this gift, he's entirely taken with it, and it defines him. He's never without it until the death of his (presumptive) father, where he throws it into the grave.

While there's a lot going on in The Tin Drum, it's an easy and engaging read. The novel is broken up into three books, each with a different focus and tone, but again, engaging. Would recommend.

As Though I Had Wings

Chet Baker's As Though I Had Wings is billed as "the lost memoir", and is excerpts from his diaries covering from 1945-46, when he had joined the Army at age 16, up through 1963 when he was living and performing in Europe. Baker relates the events in a matter-of-fact, almost disinterested manner. This works well when dealing with the mundane, but when dealing with more exceptional circumstances (soldiers drinking Screwdrivers made with Aqua Velva rather than vodka, his drug use, gigs), it's very odd, and understated.

A second area where Baker's writing tends to the oblique is his drug use. His explanations as to why he was attracted to it are vague, other than "[he] was also the first person to turn me onto grass, bless him; I loved it, and continued to smoke grass for the next eight years, until I began chipping . . ." Throughout, Baker is unrepentant, as he never mentions a desire to stop, nor does he hit rock bottom, although he is often arrested, harassed by authorities, and pressured by parents of a girlfriend to stop using. He never mentions a struggle with the addiction, although he doesn't sing its praises, either -- it's just something he does.

One area where Baker's writing almost picks up is his travails with women. His first encounter is with a girl in the German countryside while he was stationed overseas, and he later meets his three wives. These are recounted in little detail (his first wife introduced with "she loved to be screwed, and I loved screwing her") and big events (marriages, births of children) are barely noted.

Overall, this is an interesting look at an icon in his own words, and it's inspired me to seek out a more comprehensive biography, but it's short and light on detail. Worth picking up solely to get a first person perspective, and because it's such an easy read.