Fra Keeler’s Influences

Reading is pure pleasure for me, without obligation, professional or otherwise. I abandon books frequently after fifty pages or halfway through, whichever comes first. For every book I finish, three preceding books end up in a bag by the front door destined for the local charity shop. It is rare and fortuitous that I read two brilliant books consecutively.

I’m still thinking about Gillian Rose’s Love’s Work. I’ll read it again very soon, more slowly, pencil in hand this time. I’m curious about Rose’s Adorno book so please let me know if you’ve read it and have an opinion.

Next though I’ll reread Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi’s Fra Keeler, which I finished this morning. I hope to write more about it soon. It is a distinctive, rather special book. I suggest it’s a cross between Lispector, Nabokov, and just a suggestion of late Beckett, which is probably too high a pedestal for a first novel, but I have been enjoying the afterglow all day, and need to ponder and read it again, immediately.

Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi acknowledges at the end of the book that “Fra Keeler would not have been possible without the following constellation of films and books.” I’m posting the list in full because I love lists, but also because I love Fra Keeler, and, as a first novel, reading some of the books on the list that I haven’t read before and watching some of the films enables me to linger, however loosely, in the world inhabited by this remarkable book. If I read a better contemporary book this year, I shall be surprised.

  1. César Aira How I Became a Nun
  2. Attila Bartis Tranquility
  3. Thomas Bernhard Three Novellas and The Loser
  4. Roberto Bolaño Distant Star and By Night in Chile
  5. Luis Buñuel Diary of a Chambermaid
  6. Éric Chevillard Palafox and Crab Nebula
  7. Brian Evenson The Open Curtain
  8. Max Frisch Man in the Holocene
  9. André Gide The Immoralist
  10. Jean-Luc Godard Breathless
  11. Nikolai Gogol Diary of a Madman
  12. Witold Gombrowicz Cosmos
  13. Knut Hamsun Hunger
  14. Alfred Hitchcock Vertigo
  15. Anna Kavan Ice
  16. Imre Kertész Kaddish for an Unborn Child
  17. Abbas Kiarostami Close-up
  18. Jim Krusoe Iceland
  19. Patrice Leconte Monsieur Hire
  20. Doris Lessing Memoirs of a Survivor
  21. Clarice Lispector The Hour of the Star
  22. Jean-Pierre Melville Le Circle Rouge
  23. Marie Redonnet Hotel Splendid, Forever Valley and Rose Mellie Rose
  24. Eric Rohmer Six Moral Tales
  25. Daniel Pail Schreber Memoirs of My Nervous Illness
  26. Muriel Spark The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
  27. Magdalena Tulli Dreams and Stones and Moving Parts
  28. Lynne Tillman This Is Not It
  29. Trajei Vesaas The Ice Palace
  30. Diane Williams Romancer Erector

Love’s Work by Gillian Rose

Last night, or rather this morning, I stayed up far too late finishing Gillian Rose’s Love’s Work. It was recommended by a friend whose literary judgement I have come to unfailingly trust.

Nick Lezard begins his review of Love’s Work thus, “I struggle to think of a finer, more rewarding short autobiography than this.” I might argue for Woolf’s Moments of Being, but it is autobiography only in a loose sense, and Rose’s work stands as equally singular.

I picked Love’s Work without knowing of Gillian Rose’s scholarship (Adorno, Hegel). Although she writes of her cancer, it is not maudlin in any sense, nor particularly sad. Instead Rose writes of her philosophy, or way of looking at life and intimacy. In doing so, the perspective is fresh, icily frank and genuinely insightful. I’ve thought of her words all day and return periodically to check a passage. It is a book that merits rereading.

Some of Rose’s tenacity is clear at the close of the chapter in which she discusses her incurable cancer with plain style and more than a little wit:

I reach for my favourite whisky bottle and instruct my valetudinarian well-wishers to imbibe the shark’s oil and aloe vera themselves. If I am to stay alive, I am bound to continue to get love wrong, all the time, but not to cease wooing, for that is my life affair, love’s work.