Books acquired: “The Broken Bubble,” Philip K. Dick
Books read: “The Dream Detective,” Sax Rohmer; “The Feral Detective,” Jonathan Lethem; “The Trial,” Franz Kafka
Pardon the delay, but vacation interfered in bringing you the August Reading Log before now. In fact, I’m typing this Sunday night, Sept. 9!
Needing to read the upcoming Jonathan Lethem novel (from an advance copy) for a future column or two, and with travel plans that would affect my reading time, I hit a sort of crime and punishment theme — but without reading “Crime and Punishment,” which would have taken much of my month.
“The Dream Detective” (1925): A cross between Holmes and Rohmer’s usual exotica, these are not great mysteries, as they’re generally impossible to solve, but they are surprisingly delightful. Moris Klaw is an indelible character, and each subsequent story in which he sprays himself with verbena to cool his brain, or asks his daughter Isis to fetch his “odically sterilized” pillow so he can dream at the crime scene, there is the thrill of the queerly familiar.
“The Feral Detective” (due out Nov. 6): Former journalist Phoebe Siegler travels west from NYC to find a friend, a young woman who’s gone missing and who may be looking for Leonard Cohen at Mt. Baldy. Phoebe hires detective Charles Heist and the two navigate the Inland Empire in their quest, which involves two desert-dwelling factions of lost ’60s types.
Less cerebral than usual for Lethem, this has (gasp) action, not to mention intriguing characters, post-election dislocation and a firm grasp of place. Specifically, Upland, Claremont and Mt. Baldy, and then the desert, not specified but east of Lucerne Valley, it seems. I liked it. How could I not like a novel with scenes set at Claremont’s DoubleTree? Some will find it too commercial, I’m sure. Visual and kinetic enough to make for a semi-popular movie, or an Amazon series, which probably no one said about Lethem’s “Chronic City” or “This Shape We’re In.”
“The Trial” (1925): Who arrested Joseph K. and why? And who is judging him, exactly? Readers looking for concrete answers will be disappointed, but the rest of us will revel at the ambiguity as Joseph faces a charge about which he can get no information. Tragic, yes, but “The Trial” is often so ridiculous as to be very funny. (Max Brod said Kafka used to crack up while reading sections to his friends.)
And how random is it that two of my three reads this month are from 1925? Anyway, two detectives and a trial made for an enjoyable month. I bought the Rohmer book in 2008 at a paperback collectors show and the Kafka in (gulp) 1992 from Santa Rosa’s Copperfield Books. Lethem handed me an advance copy of his in June.
How was your August, readers — presuming you remember?
Next month: animals, feral and not.