02 febrero 2011

Books I Liked

Por "la famosa escritora norteamericana"

 Kate Zambreno O Fallen Angel

'O FALLEN ANGEL is a triptych of modern-day America set in a banal Midwestern landscape, inspired by Francis Bacon's Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion. There is "Mommy," a portrait of housewife psychosis, cruelly and crudely drawn, fenced in by her own small mind. There is "Maggie," Mommy's unfortunate daughter whom she infects with fairytales, a Dora stuffed numb with pills, a casualty of gender roles and the DSM-IV. Then there is the mysterious martyr-figure Malachi, a Cassandra in army fatigues, the Septimus Smith to Mommy's Mrs. Dalloway, who stands at the foot of the highway holding signs of fervent prophecy, gaping at the bottomless abyss of the human condition, while SUVs scream past. Kate Zambreno's O FALLEN ANGEL commits an act of anarchic literary sacrilege that calls to mind the rant and rage of an American Elfriede Jelinek, an exorcism of the culture wars and pop-cultural debris, a sneering indictment of deaf ears, blind eyes, and mute mouths.'

'O Fallen Angel is a tribute to all the damaged girls, all the toxic teenagers, college roommates, and friends you’ve known who were all at once the best and worst versions of themselves. This work spews back at society the vile, misguided judgments we place upon one another with the style of a post-modern poet and the mind of Woolf. The reality and banality of suburbia, its conventional ideals and preconceived notions regarding gender and voice are quickly demystified as Zambreno examines the root of our culture clashes. Here we are asked: what are accepted/rejected ideas on madness and the cruelty of the monotony of the middle-class landscape? Reminiscent of Baudelaire, Zambreno takes that madness and hysteria to a new level, where their yin and yang drive these powerful, sparse pages.'

'Kate Zambreno is centrally concerned with superficiality and its relation to the limits of empathy, the inaccessibility of others’ suffering. Her treatment of her characters embodies this concern: the characters here are flat enough that the narrator remains a plane removed from them, and we readers a plane yet further. O Fallen Angel investigates superficiality and empathy both as defining concerns of fiction—which (traditionally?) aims to make fictive lives real enough to allow us to imagine the pain of another—and as issues of acute political concern in contemporary America.' 


And Sleeping Beauty wanted to be liked and had terribly low self-esteem so when he said that she was the prettiest girl in all the land she gave him a blow-job, even though her jaw locks sometimes.

And Sleeping Beauty pretended to be asleep but really she died inside and then she let Prince Charming cum between her tits and on her face and in her hair as he breathed Yeah Bitch Take It.

And Sleeping Beauty didn’t make him wear a condom and now she has pelvic inflammatory disease and crotch-itch and genital warts, but, oh, the memories.

Don’t all little girls have rape fantasies? Maggie is in a dark wood and the wolf comes up to her and he slams her face into a tree. He chops her to pieces, the bad, bad, wolf, because she is a bad, bad girl.


Maggie is depressed. Maggie LIKES to be depressed. Maggie writes in her dear, dear, diary (tear drops stain the ink): Perhaps love is a delusion and we all hide ourselves with half-lies and fiction. Maggie writes to fill in her anonymous sketched outline. Maggie is a blank slate. Maggie is beginning to realize the life truth that no one else knows who anyone else truly is inside. Maggie’s inner life is radically different than people’s outward perception of Maggie, which makes Maggie desperately unhappy. Maggie knows from psychology that the happiest are those with the most illusions. That is Sigmund Freud. This is why Maggie is not happy—she has lost her illusions. Maggie is a lost girl. Maggie is drifting in a sea of anonymity and anomie. 

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