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| FICTION |
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Greed by Elfriede Jelinek
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| Published: |
April 2007 |
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| Pages: |
336 |
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| Publisher: |
Seven Stories Press |
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Links: Author website
NY Review of Books profile
Literary Review Review
Guardian review
NY Times review |
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“The plot is merely a foundation for Jelinek's poly-vocal stream-of-consciousness ranting, as she alternates the characters'
cliché-laced thoughts with her own scathing indictments.”
Review Viewers of the devastating film The Piano Teacher, based on Elfriede Jelinek's autobiographical novel, should consider themselves forewarned about the sadomasochistic tenor
of this divisive Austrian writer's books. No exception, Greed (2000) is the author's first novel translated into English since her controversial and unexpected Nobel Prize in 2004.
At Greed's center is a strapping country policeman, Kurt Janisch (a closeted homosexual); his desperate, aging mistress Gerti, whom
he openly loathes; and his second mistress, the 16-year-old Gabi, whom Kurt kills during sex and crudely discards in a local
lake. Greed culminates in Gerti's suicide after she signs away her house to Kurt. The plot is merely a foundation for Jelinek's poly-vocal
stream-of-consciousness ranting, as she alternates the characters' cliché-laced thoughts with her own scathing indictments.
A former communist and a committed feminist, Jelinek despises Austria's vestigial patriarchy, largely unaffected by two major
wars and here embodied in the sadistic, sex-obsessed Kurt (named, perhaps, for recent Austrian president Kurt Josef Waldheim, whose falsified account of his actions in WWII didn't ruin his political career). Nor can Jelinek endure Gerti's slavish desperation for such a monster. In 300-odd pages, Jelinek
disfigures the traditional narrative, yielding up a bleak self-portrait of a long-neglected avant-gardist working in a country
whose tortured history remains so repressed that not even decades of agitated vitriol can penetrate its core of shame.
An aggressive affront to the arch-bourgeois conventions of the novel, Jelinek's writing is not without precedent. Although
she considers herself a provincial novelist working in the tradition of unflinching Austrian writers such as Ingeborg Bachmann, Thomas Bernhard, and Robert Musil, Jelinek's resolute anti-Enlightenment views echo the self-excoriating performances of Vienna Actionist Hermann Nitsch, Antonin Artaud's reality-penetrating Theatre of Cruelty (Jelinek also writes plays), and the aurally oppressive performances of contemporary British noise band Whitehouse — artists who've extended their contempt for the world to their chosen mediums. While initial resistance to Jelinek's uncompromising
novel is inevitable, the revulsion inspired by Greed should mature in time into an appreciation of Jelinek's extreme tactics, which are justified by her demand that the world
be radically different, and better, than it is now. - H.G. Masters
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“Like a writerly Weegee, Saviano monitors a police-band radio for reports of Camorra-perpetrated violence and races to crime
scenes on his Vespa, documenting the grisly fate.”
Review "Camorra is a nonexistent word," writes Roberto Saviano in Gomorrah, a searing exposé of the murderous Neapolitan criminal organization. Members call it the System — "an eloquent term" and "a mechanism rather than a structure." Saviano, born in Naples in 1979
and a regular contributor to popular Italian weekly L'espresso, has witnessed the vicious by-products of this "mechanism" firsthand: he's held jobs at a construction site, a Chinese textile
manufacturer, and even at a Camorra wedding. Like a writerly Weegee, Saviano monitors a police-band radio for reports of Camorra-perpetrated violence and races to crime scenes on his Vespa,
documenting the grisly fate — and sometimes the final words — of the victims. Macabre? Yes. Captivating? Definitely.
Saviano's book shines with a lonely courageousness that is almost poetic, and while a few stretches of the narrative blur
into a laundry list of intrigue and gore, the author ultimately succeeds in delivering a complex picture of corruption. The
new generation of Camorristi is an educated business class that sustains above-board industry while driving the black-market
economy beneath it — from politics, high fashion, consumer electronics, construction, shipping, and waste disposal to piracy, illicit drugs, and military-grade weapons. Some Camorristi have even earned a sort of celebrity and sex appeal among the citizenry. However, these neo-gangsters are not the models for films like Scarface and Goodfellas — on the contrary, such fictions are what have inspired them.
Saviano deconstructs the System, takes it apart, spreads it on the table, and shows what makes it tick. Obviously, it's a
dangerous species of journalism: Gomorrah was a commercial success when first published in Italy in 2006, and accolades were soon joined by death threats. The government
(which, as Saviano illustrates, is not immune to the influence of the System) responded to the writer's appeal for protection
after literary superstar Umberto Eco went on national television to plead on Saviano's behalf. These days the author lives abroad, accompanied by an armed police
escort — plotting a long and fruitful career, we hope. - Stephen Dougherty
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“During her acclaimed international career, Calle has developed a distinctive style that blends diaristic writing and narrative
framework with beguiling photographs.”
Review From the moment its merlot satin ribbon is untied, Sophie Calle's seductive artist's book Double Game draws the viewer into a world with blurred boundaries. During her acclaimed international career, Calle has developed a distinctive style that blends diaristic writing and narrative framework with beguiling photographs. Embracing the details of everyday life, she chronicles the intimate
discoveries made from adopting various roles, such as a stripper or a chambermaid, and merging the personal with the voyeuristic.
Calle's willingness to be the central figure in her work, and her propensity to mingle fact and fiction, inspired novelist Paul Auster to create a character, Maria Turner, based on her for his book
Leviathan. Following Double Game's silvery endpapers, a facsimile excerpt from Leviathan sets up the interplay between the fictional Maria and her source, as Calle annotates Auster's text in red pen to reveal the
varying degrees of truth. Double Game then unfolds in a tripartite fashion — revealing Calle's interpretations of Auster's character embellishments, presenting
a mini-retrospective of projects that inspired Auster, and documenting a direct collaboration between the novelist and artist.
Unfurling like a Möbius strip of identity, the fictional artistic pursuits of Maria proved fertile ground for Calle. Vibrant images of monochromatic meals
and alphabetic escapades reveal her take on Maria's restrictive rituals, including a day lived under the letter B, as shown
in the Big-Time Blond Bimbo image on the book's cover. Double Game culminates with The Gotham Handbook, in which Calle becomes the protagonist in a New York City story shaped by Auster's prescriptions, but ultimately told through
Calle's sharp observations and documentary-style photographs. - Catherine Krudy
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