r/TrueLit

Hi all, here is the announcement for our 30th, 31st, and 32nd read-along where we are taking a slightly different track. We will be reading a series of three plays all having to do with 'bad parties in literature.'

Over the course of the next few weeks, we will be reading, in this order:

1. "The Birthday Party" by Harold Pinter
2. "The Bald Soprano" by Eugene Ionesco
3. "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" by Edward Albee

Schedule:

• The Birthday Party by Harold Pinter
  • Begin reading on October 24
    • Live discussion thread open between October 24-31
  • Finish reading on October 31
    • Final discussion opens on October 31
• The Bald Soprano by Eugene Ionesco
  • Begin reading on November 7
    • Live discussion thread open between November 7-14
  • Finish reading on November 14
    • Final discussion opens on November 14
• Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee
  • Begin reading on November 21
    • Live discussion thread open between November 21-28
  • Finish reading on November 28
    • Final discussion opens on November 28
• Final thematic trilogy discussion opens on December 5

All threads will have potential spoilers. Please keep spoilers for the end of the plays out of the Live Discussion Thread and please keep discussion of the play as a whole reserved for the Final Discussion Thread. No volunteers needed.

Every play is available online for FREE!!! Please feel free to use these or get your hard copies by the first day of reading.

I'm currently reading W.G. Sebald's The Rings of Saturn and absolutely loving it. His style of 'literature of associations' reminds me of Murnane or Proust; these writers use a similar structure of meaning-building by which they present a series of seemingly unrelated ideas, with some sort of 'epiphany' on discovering their connectedness. In Sebald we explore 'psychogeography' while Murnane explores 'mental landscapes,' usually to similar ends. I get a similar sensation from watching How to with John Wilson - following tangents along strange paths and finding yourself back at the beginning.

I can't help but notice the absence of women or non-male writers in my encounters with this form. I've read some modernist and post-modern texts from big name writers like Clarice Lispector (The Hour of the Star) and Virginia Woolf (Mrs. Dalloway and The Waves) but they haven't scratched this particular itch so far.

Does anyone have suggestions for other writers / texts to check out? Does anyone know how deep this particular rabbit hole goes? Does this style / genre / technique have a name?

(To preface this I have to say that the contents of the books I struggle to finish aren't due to a lack of ability to comprehend what I'm reading or any kind of frustration, I do know this is what causes a lot of readers to ultimately drop a read, it's not my issue here.)

It's been no mystery to me for a long time now that I struggle to finish my books despite my love for the medium and everything it's given to me over the years. It's reached the point that I've experienced a kind of "book related guilt" about just how many novels I've started over the years across numerous genres and never finished. I wanted to ask this subreddit what it means to you guys personally to finish a book and what drives you to finish what you start. If I were to truly explain what I mean by this I would have to discuss about two books.

The first book I want to talk about is Infinite Jest, if there has ever been a novel that has a reputation that precedes it, it's infinite jest. The copy I own of it still sits on my "currently reading" shelf and has been haunting me ever since I started it some years ago and it sits in my mind as what I feel is the prime example of a book I love dearly and want more than anything to finish, but still cannot drive myself to endure. It's no mystery to me that David Foster Wallace is a beloved figure in a lot of literary spheres and it's come to a point that I've finished just about every other piece of his writing I could get my hands on while still being somewhat early into his "magnum opus".

The second book I wanted to talk about is Lucy Ellmann's "Ducks, Newburyport" a book I would personally perceive to be a more difficult book than Infinite Jest just due to the pure monotony and tedium of the reading experience while still being one I was capable of getting to the end of. Something about this novel spoke to me in a way that Infinite Jest just didn't, while I can't say I relate to the characters of either novel very personally I could always find something in DN struck me in the way I so wanted Infinite Jest to despite my love for DFW and what he's written, and it led me to wonder what it means in general to finish a novel.

I personally feel that nothing quite causes you to want to start a story more than allure, that writhing bind on your brain that tells you "Wouldn't that novel be amazing?" despite your better judgement, and ultimately despite whether or not you have the patience to finish it. When it comes to wanting to finish a novel, I still don't know. Thoughts?

edit: spelling and grammar