BOOK REVIEWS
I have dispensed with my 'Books of the Year' postings which covered the years 2009 and 2010, and now attempt to review a selection of books that I have read both good and bad, in editions old and new. Much of what I buy is often based on suggestions by others, or some train of thought that makes me think "maybe I should try..." so they are not necessarily all strange/supernatural fiction.
With many small press books costing around £35-£40 each, and some seemingly worthy tomes changing hands on the second hand market for many times that, these reviews may also give the potential purchaser some indication of what they might receive for their money. Needless to say, my opinions should not be given any great value as I bring my own foibles to every review and these may change at any time.
Géza Csáth
'Opium and Other Stories'
(Penguin p/b 1973)
204 pages (out of print)
On the face of it Géza Csáth (1887-1919) appears to be represent the decadent stereotypical fantasy of a bright life wasted by drugs and insanity.
Originally intending to become a composer he instead trained to become a doctor specializing in neurology with writing as a sideline. Most of the latter was packed into the years 1908-1912 and dwindled as he developed a severe opium habit which he was able to feed via his work. A subsequent drift into insanity followed and after killing his wife he was incarcerated. Temporarily escaping, he committed suicide by poison.
With this background one might imagine his work to have a decadent theme. Whilst a few of the tales show definite fantastic elements the majority are naturalistic tales in the vein of the French school of Maupassant, Zola etc with an underlying symbolic thread of the break-up of the Austro-Hungarian empire and way of life. This is epitomised in the poignant tale 'Musicians', in which members of a mediocre orchestra realize that whilst their conductor achieved a small degree of posthumous fame they are surplus to the requirements of the era in which they have slid into.
A similar theme is to be found in 'Railroad', where a man misses a train and thus sets in motion a train of events that leads to his ruin.
Offset against the more fantastical 'Afternoon Dream' and 'Joseph in Egypt' the title tale is a first person account warning against the delights of opium, while 'A Young Lady' is a story which seems to mirrors Csáths own problems of illusion and madness - one suspects the protagonists and the authors 'madness' is that of Syphilis. These are all good tales and worth reading but for myself there is a very big problem with the book overall as in a number of the remaining tales feature a great deal of graphic animal torture - much of it perpetrated by children.
In 'Little Emma' youngsters hang the child of the title after testing their makeshift gallows on a dog, while in various other stories kittens are slowly roasted alive, dogs eviscerated and birds bound plucked and blinded. In her introduction Angela Carter re-iterates the break-up of empire theme and I am sure there is much to this theory; one can infer from the (literate) prose that Csáth is a clever chap with something to say. However as an animal lover, this type of thing just turns my stomach over and far from pondering the deep questions the author might be suggesting via his prose I just want to butcher him and throw his battered and bleeding carcass into the nearest ditch. Such atrocities really brings out all my (not so latent) misanthropy, and I just do not need such reminders of how despicable humanity is. If you feel anything like myself in such matters (the torture rather than the misanthropy) you should definitely give this book a miss.
Originally intending to become a composer he instead trained to become a doctor specializing in neurology with writing as a sideline. Most of the latter was packed into the years 1908-1912 and dwindled as he developed a severe opium habit which he was able to feed via his work. A subsequent drift into insanity followed and after killing his wife he was incarcerated. Temporarily escaping, he committed suicide by poison.
With this background one might imagine his work to have a decadent theme. Whilst a few of the tales show definite fantastic elements the majority are naturalistic tales in the vein of the French school of Maupassant, Zola etc with an underlying symbolic thread of the break-up of the Austro-Hungarian empire and way of life. This is epitomised in the poignant tale 'Musicians', in which members of a mediocre orchestra realize that whilst their conductor achieved a small degree of posthumous fame they are surplus to the requirements of the era in which they have slid into.
A similar theme is to be found in 'Railroad', where a man misses a train and thus sets in motion a train of events that leads to his ruin.
Offset against the more fantastical 'Afternoon Dream' and 'Joseph in Egypt' the title tale is a first person account warning against the delights of opium, while 'A Young Lady' is a story which seems to mirrors Csáths own problems of illusion and madness - one suspects the protagonists and the authors 'madness' is that of Syphilis. These are all good tales and worth reading but for myself there is a very big problem with the book overall as in a number of the remaining tales feature a great deal of graphic animal torture - much of it perpetrated by children.
In 'Little Emma' youngsters hang the child of the title after testing their makeshift gallows on a dog, while in various other stories kittens are slowly roasted alive, dogs eviscerated and birds bound plucked and blinded. In her introduction Angela Carter re-iterates the break-up of empire theme and I am sure there is much to this theory; one can infer from the (literate) prose that Csáth is a clever chap with something to say. However as an animal lover, this type of thing just turns my stomach over and far from pondering the deep questions the author might be suggesting via his prose I just want to butcher him and throw his battered and bleeding carcass into the nearest ditch. Such atrocities really brings out all my (not so latent) misanthropy, and I just do not need such reminders of how despicable humanity is. If you feel anything like myself in such matters (the torture rather than the misanthropy) you should definitely give this book a miss.
