Georges Bataille, Story of the Eye (1928) 103p.

Marguerite Yourcenar, Coup de Grace (1939) 151p.

José Saramago, All the Names (1997)(English: 1999) 238p.

Very Kafkaesk, but the character is underdeveloped, the style is inconsistent and some of the details or plot are simply incredible or too evident. However, you can recognize his outstanding talent and the idea behind the story is very uplifting.

A good example of an incredible and unnecessary detail of plot is the visit by Senor Jose to the apartment of the unknown woman. He receives the key from the mother as he is to leave the parents’ home, after the father has been cynical of Senor Jose. Every development in this part is incredible in my opinion, and more so it is unnecessary.

Andre Breton, Nadja (1928) 160p.

August Strindberg (1849-1912), Inferno, Alone, and other writings (1968, 1894-1903), 429p.

The New Arts or the Role of Chance in Artistic Creation (1894)
Inferno (1897)
Graveyard Reveries (1896)
Jacob Wrestles (1897)
Alone (1903)

George Orwell, Inside the Whale (1940)

Henry Miller, The Time of the Assassins: a Study of Rimbaud (1946/1956), 163p.

The book starts uninspired but by the epiphany that the life of Rimbeaud contains the blueprint for genius, emphasizing the parallels between Miller and Rimbeaud. Did I mention Miller is a pretentious prick? Only after he made that first point of life and the formation of exceptional psychologies, does he enter the waters where the streams of Miller’s lyrical poetry grasp you and pull you under. It is when he talks about the end of the world, about the assassin of youth, the escapes and boredom, the venomous poison of a poet’s visions that entered the unknown, that Miller’s study becomes inspiring.

Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer (1934) 287p.

Brilliant, genial poetry. A bit of Celine mingled with American optimism.

Paul Auster, The Brooklyn Follies (2005)

I have heard almost only good critics from my friends about Paul Auster, so I was quite hopeful he would be more elusive than most contemporary books I have read or the books I read from the New York Times best sellers list. Well, The Brooklyn Follies might escape the Oprah level, but he does not escape the flaws of the American story telling tradition imo: extravagant plots, outrageous events, extraordinary individuals all wrapped up in a fast paced unraveling in a flat storyline where character development is an underrated writer’s skill. I did enjoy reading The Brooklyn Follies though, great vocabulary and witty plot, and I will admit to the fantastic last 5 pages that come close to classic literature. I felt depressed that he had to throw or force in the affair of Nathan Glass with Joyce Mazzucchelli, and that the outrageous characters with their outrageous lives (the porn star singer sect convert turned lesbian cousin, or the repressed homosexual turned philantropist art forger rare book dealer turned scamming savior who has a compassionate love relation with the Jamaican HIV positive play-back artist cross-dressing sweetheart, to name a few) were not more like normal people with deeper and more sensitive characters, but hell you fuckers this is the great tradition of American story telling where everything ends well anyway and where every body (especially the males) get their fantasy fuck in the end. Well, sorry for that, just to say that I appreciate books like Book of Disquiet or Man’s Fate or writers like Dostoewski and Bulgakov more. I am hopelessly stuck in the 19th and first half of the 20th century.

Mikhail Bulgakov, A Dead Man’s Memoir (1965) 167p.
Original title: A Theatrical Novel