The Loser, Thomas Bernhard

Ahh! To read Bernhard again! Thoroughly enjoyed this single paragraph interior monologue. I’ve read most of Bernhard’s work in the past and wanted to reread his oeuvre once again so I started with The Loser. The story involves three main characters: Glenn Gould, Wertheimer, and the narrator. They become friends at the Mozarteum in Vienna while attending a Horowitz class for aspiring concert pianists. The plot that exists revolves around the life of Wertheimer, considered ‘the loser’ of the group. But both Wertheimer and the narrator have ‘loser’ characteristics, evident as the story unfolds. Both are devastated in the goal of musical virtuosity by the already brilliant Gould. Once they hear Gould play they abandon their quest for musical virtuosity, feeling that if one cannot be the best one should not even try.

The novel displays Bernhard’s typical misanthropic and extremely bleak prose which might be off-putting to many but I find rewarding. I’ve changed my world views since I first read Bernhard when I completely absorbed his views and conclusions. This time around I find I agree with his evaluations but not so much with his conclusions. Still, The Loser is a challenging and enjoyable read.

How The Loser informs my writing.

I have tried using this monologue style before, specifically in my short story Owning Scars, included in my collection Not So You’d Notice (available at Amazon). In it I imagine a man reminiscing on his past cruelty towards his siblings and the story take place primarily in his head. Not sure if I pulled it off but it is one of my favorite stories in the collection. I am also experimenting with the style in my work-in-progress so it is good to get a refresher course from Bernhard.

Most of my stories are fairly bleak seeing as Bernhard has long been an inspiration for my writing but as mentioned, I have a different mindset these days. I still deal with topics which can fall on the bleak side but I am trying to find a more positive spin for my narrative, much along the lines of ‘yes, this is how bad things are but here is how we can change that.’ We’ll see how successful I am with this as I conclude my manuscript.

The Best of Everything, Kit de Waal, 2025

The power of kindness! Paulette, the main character in this beautiful novel, is a model of kindness. It is her primary defining characteristic in the many relationships she nurtures throughout the story. Not that she is without flaws: she can be impatient, angry, judgmental, and demanding. But at her core is the belief in humanity and the overwhelming benefits of treating others with love and respect. We meet Paulette when she is single at 29 years old and watch her development as she approaches 50. Along the way is plenty of heartache, challenges, and major losses. She doesn’t always handle them well.

A book about kindness and gentleness, grief and recovery, redemption and forgiveness. And de Waal is very good at narrating the morass of feelings her characters experience or refuse to acknowledge. I love her handling of inner thought processes, as well as relational dynamics, and there are many in this novel. What I truly enjoyed is how kindness is woven throughout the narrative, despite the excruciating pain that was evident on the page. A tremendous meditation on the power of kindness.

How The Best of Everything informs my writing.

I am impressed with the comfortable flow of this novel, skating effortlessly over the passage of time and the ups and downs along the way. I would like to accomplish that in the novel I am writing as my protagonist develops over time. De Waal expertly explores her many themes without stating them clearly, something I struggle with and have previously posted about. Her themes are clear though in the plot development and character interactions. It is a model I can use in my writing.

I love the theme of kindness and read an awful lot about it. I’m not sure though that it has been a theme in my stories. Basically I have been meditating on what might be considered the opposite: cruelty. In the stories I have published and those I am currently submitting, I address the victims of cruelty and the suffering they experience. Perhaps I can create more rounded plots and characters if I switched my focus and explored the power of kindness as an antidote against cruelty. De Waal’s novel is a great example of this.

George Saunders & Joy Williams

Lincoln in the Bardo, George Saunders, 2017.

This is a challenging but very fun novel. Entirely told in quotes, the story begins with the death of Lincoln’s son and goes on to explore grief, suffering, and loss on both sides of death: what happens to the living after death and where the dead go. In the novel the dead are in the bardo and provide the bulk of the story. They wrestle with their own losses (the living) and the challenge of moving on. In the cemetery where the story unfolds, Abraham Lincoln suffers extreme grief and there are plenty of eyewitness accounts of his behavior and his expressions of loss. A very intriguing subplot is the juxtaposition of Lincoln’s grief over the loss of his son and the loss of multitudes of soldiers during the Civil War. I found it to be one of the more interesting conversations in the story. But I also enjoyed many of the other conversations and debates in the novel. Lincoln in the Bardo was a great read, especially its mix of fiction and history (sometimes difficult to see their separation) and really cool experimental style.

The Quick & the Dead, Joy Williams, 2000.

Like Lincoln in the Bardo, this Williams novel is saturated with the dead, including a ghost, dead loved ones, the living dead of a nursing home, and a lot of dead animals. It is the background for the story of several adolescent girls making their way through the world seemingly alone: they experiment with environmentalism, silence, and privilege. Most of the adult characters are examples of ways not to live a life, souls filled with regrets, dissatisfaction, and bitterness. It is a beautiful story and incredibly well told by Williams. I’m looking forward to reading her most recent short story collection, The Pelican Child.

Under the Skin, Michel Faber

Under the Skin, Michel Faber, 2000. What an awesome novel! I first became aware of Michel Faber through his wonderful nonfiction book, Listen: On Music, Sound and Us and then went on to read his short story collection Some Rain Must Fall. His themes and ideas are intriguing and his writing is impressive. It’s the same with Under the Skin. Isserley drives Scotland roads picking up hitchhikers and as she uses them for her own purposes we learn who she is and about the organization she serves. It’s a nice mix of science fiction, literary fiction, gender study, and psychological study. Faber presents a microcosm of the problems we face with tribalism, nationalism, and xenophobia without ever mentioning those terms. He also expertly presents the evolution of Isserley in terms of her view of the natural world and her awareness of it. Glad I read this novel and I am looking forward to reading more of his work.

How Under the Skin informs my writing.

Faber’s pacing is wonderful with clues being presented from the early pages without revealing too much. I have been attempting the same with my novel-in-progress in terms of how much I reveal of the situation. I tend to blurt things out and then discuss them rather than letting the action and dialogue slowly reveal my message. I would love to create a manuscript that is as engaging and suspenseful as Faber’s.

Under the Skin also delivers a beautiful message: whether one agrees with it or not is irrelevant. The art of storytelling used to present this message is inspiring. I too have an overall message I would like to present through my current novel and can use Faber’s novel as a model to strive for. If my manuscript turns out to be a quarter as successful as Faber’s I would be satisfied. Thanks Michel Faber!

Austral, Carlos Fonseca

Austral, Carlos Fonseca, 2023. Translated from the Spanish (Costa Rica) by Megan McDowell.

Another fantastic novel by Fonseca: I found his Natural History to be excellent and I have ordered his first novel, Colonel Lágrimas. Very pleased to be spending time with his prose.

Austral, structurally similar to Natural History, includes a fascination with books, multiple texts within texts, an interest in land art, and a central focus on memory. It involves an academic’s quest to complete the final, unfinished novel of a recently deceased friend. He travels from the United States to Argentina and Guatemala to uncover the meaning of her text and along the way the reader is treated to intriguing characters and intense ruminations on the nature of memory, feeling the pain of others, and the development of culture.

Though I’ve finished the novel, I feel there are many more threads I need to untangle. Sometimes challenging, often requiring further research, but always engaging and thought provoking, Austral is a must read.

How Austral informs my writing.

I love this style of storytelling which uses embedded texts so successfully. Fonseca is so good at it and so is Lucy Ives, who I may read more of in the future. I am using it in my current writing and gave it a try in my short story Hypocrites Among Us, which has not yet found a publisher. In my story, I use song titles and lyrics, a university syllabus, and various fictional essays to tell the story of a young man learning about his father and the prevalence and common acceptance of hypocrisy in politics. I don’t know if I pulled it off well enough to earn an acceptance letter but it was fun utilizing this technique and I will continue to practice it.

I also found Fonseca’s prose about books and how children often respond to the world by seeking refuge within them beautifully written. I have a tendency in my writing to bluntly state a fact while Fonseca delicately plants suggestions and comments that unveil his thoughts about these issues. My new novel incorporates this very basic but difficult practice but I can always improve upon it by emulating the writing in Austral.

Thanks to Carlos Fonseca for writing such wonderful texts, and Megan McDowell for translating him!

Almost No Memory, Lydia Davis

Almost No Memory, Lydia Davis, 1997. Included in The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis, 2011.

Davis’ short stories have been labeled as miniatures, prose poems, and contemplations, among other descriptors as a way to understand what she is doing in her work. I do find myself questioning what each small offering is supposed to be but ultimately it really doesn’t matter. Davis explores the inner workings of the mind as it works to make sense of relationships and reality and her form is an excellent way to do so. While sometimes confused as to the message of a particular story I was intrigued with each piece. The Thirteenth Woman, where the first twelve women completely ignore the thirteenth, is simply delightful. In Foucault and Pencil, a woman strives to understand the meaning and cause of an argument with her partner. And my favorite, The Race of the Patient Motorcyclists, reads like a paean to slowness.

There is a scene I love in a Samuel Beckett story about a character holding three pebbles as he goes through the iterations in his mind of how he can put them in two pockets one at a time: an incredible scene. Many of the stories in Almost No Memory are like this: characters thinking through the possibilities of doing a particular task but being unable to reach a conclusion. Other stories are essentially lists but read like dynamic and meaning-filled short stories.

How Almost No Memory informs my writing.

As I read these stories, I did have some confusion of what the meaning was, especially in light of the title of the collection. Ultimately, my take away is that Davis is suggesting that in our present conflicts or disagreements we have no memory of how we got into that situation or into that particular relationship with the partner we are having a conflict with: we are totally consumed with thinking through the current problem. I realize this is a simplistic interpretation but with it I was better able to process each story. And I am not suggesting that I know what Davis meant with the individual stories or with the collection as a whole. But what I appreciate is that her art is not really about a particular meaning or take away. The stories stand on their own but they also work well as a unified whole. This is what I would like to accomplish with my newest short story collection I have been putting together. My stories are about the current US political situation and the effect many of their dictates have on everyday people. I am hopeful that the stories add up to a powerful message but one that I am not blatantly proclaiming. I would like it to be as subtle as Davis’.

My story Fragility comes closest to the method Davis uses, though I am in no way comparing my work to hers: hers is a genius I will most likely never attain. In my story a mother is tormented by her son’s behavior of talking to his dead grandfather and is put off by the ‘help’ his school offers. It is a mere 1700 words and I have been told that people love it or hate it; there doesn’t seem to be any in-between. But I mention it because I feel it is short on explanations and simply presents a situation that I hope the reader will analyze independently. Fragility was first published by the now defunct Slag Review but can be found in my collection Not So You’d Notice, available at Amazon.

My story collection!

Reading List June 2026: Part 1

The Wind Whistling in the Cranes, Lidia Jorge, translated by Margaret Jull Costa and Annie McDermott. This is a Portuguese novel that takes place in Valmares, a fictional town along the Algarve coastline. It portrays two rival families: the owners of the town’s previous canning factory (the Leandro family) and working class immigrants from Cape Verde (the Matas family) who now reside in the abandoned factory. The main character Milene is a Leandro and her suitor, Antonino, is a Matas. It is a slow moving novel but still quite good. I became impatient with Milene’s slow decision making but the behavior fit her character well and as the novel developed I enjoyed her introspective tendencies and freewheeling spirit. While a lot of the story centers around the developing romance between these two characters, Jorge also explores postcolonial memory and consequences, racial antagonism, economic divisions, and the nature of evil. The novel also includes a strong sense of place, from the placement of the factory near the coast, to Milene’s inherited isolated home, from the Matas matriarch longing for Cape Verde to the Leandro’s desire to develop the property. Overall, an enjoyable read.

How The Wind Whistling in the Cranes informs my writing.

The novel’s sense of place is outstanding, something I often neglect in my stories. While setting is important in my writing, such as in my short stories Bluebird (a school bus) and Sorting Through Clams (a clamming boat), they could have been stronger had I been clearer about the importance of those places in the development of my characters. Jorge does that really well.

Jorge explores the nature of evil (something I am studying now) in her novel and I appreciate how she wove it into daily conversations and internal thoughts, rather than a blatant exposition about evil. It is masterfully done and nicely parceled out throughout the novel. It is what I am attempting with the novel I am currently writing and I will revisit Jorge’s success in implementing this skill.

Check out my stories in my collection Not So You’d Notice available at Amazon. Let me know how sense of place is used in Bluebird and Sorting Through Clams.

Reading List April 2026

·       United, Cory Booker. A memoir covering Booker’s early social and political development with a cast of inspirational activists. His focus in on responsibility towards and connection with others. While the concept of empathy is taking a bruising these days, Booker applauds it and encourages it as a mainframe of ethical living. He acknowledges the privileges and opportunities he was granted simply by being born in the right place and the right time and suggests the concept of paying it forward as a means of paying the debts accrued from receiving these gifts. While I remain a cynic as far as how effective kindness can be in today’s toxic relational climate, I support living a life based on kindness in opposition to cruelty and self-centeredness, which is a main theme throughout this book.

·      A Fan’s Notes, Frederick Exley. This novel was recommended to me by a friend and it sat on my shelf for years before I finally got around to reading it this month. It fits well alongside books by Henry Miller and Charles Bukowski. The main character, soured by life and alcoholism at an early age, splits his time between mental hospital stays and making a mess of his life and relations. Fairly routine situations albeit with a host of keen observations, my favorite being the following where the narrator is discussing the aggressors in World War II: ‘…my brother would in no time at all be in a rather ludicrous uniform of his own, with a few million other Americans called upon to pay the heavy toll for having failed to recognize insanity for the pernicious evil it is.’

·      Natural History, Carlos Fonseca, translated by Megan McDowell. Natural History is a novel with a wide cast of characters and narrative points of view. The story encompasses art and science, politics and religion and explores the theme of identity, specifically repetition, camouflage, anonymity, and the masks we wear. Three related story lines, and perhaps a few minor ones, intersect in this wonderfully complex and engaging novel.

·      White Nights, Urszula Honek, translated by Kate Webster. A short story collection out of Poland that deals with a cast of characters surrounded by and enmeshed in death. I found the subject matter and the harsh living conditions described engaging, as well as the plight of the characters as they searched for a reason to go on living and a way out of their dismal environment. The best story in the collection is Hanna where the main character, in explaining the behavior of those around her, states “they’re not consumed by sorrow in a single moment, but throughout their lives…” Through somber and bleak prose these stories speak to the difficulty in rising above stark surroundings and fighting against ever-present brutality.

·      Surrender, Brian O’Hare. A collection of short stories with the Marines and soldiers at war as the backdrop for O’Hare’s exploration of what defines a man in America. A nice addition to my research into gentleness, the recurring cast of characters in these stories struggle with generational definitions of masculinity as they forge their own paths and make similar, sometimes unique mistakes of their own. Well worth reading while Trump and Hegseth push an aggressive war in Iran along with their ‘macho’ posing.

·      The Power of Words, Simone Weil, translated by Richard Rees and Arthur Wills. A powerful set of philosophical essays addressing the emptiness of words in social and political discourse. She suggests ways around this problem presenting what she finds are the ethics which should be guiding our lives. Incredibly topical arguments considering how the current administration hurls empty words and phrases at us (except for the inherent cruelty which lies behind those words and phrases).

Reading List March 2026

·      The Natural Order of Things, Antonio Lobo Antunes, translated by Richard Zenith. Another great stream of consciousness novel from Antunes, this time about two families falling apart in a crumbling Portugal. I love the labyrinth Antunes builds with his prose, how the confused relation between the characters slowly unfolds, and how we rapidly jump between the thoughts of different characters. Always a challenge but always rewarding.

·      Buddha, Socrates, and Us: Ethical Living in Uncertain Times, Stephen Batchelor. An interesting nonfiction book that explores the similarities and differences in the teachings of Buddha and Socrates. Well thought out explanations and investigations addressing how the teachings of the two men could aid us in living an ethical life. Considering how radically uncertain things are today I’m not sure I left with any immediate steps I could take in that direction, but still, good to be reacquainted with their line of thinking.

·      The Sanity Inspectors, Friedrich Deich, translated by Robert Kee. I thoroughly enjoyed this novel published by Boiler House Press. Sinclair McKay asks in his introduction ‘When an entire society is in the grip of a murderous set of beliefs, how might individuals retain their own moral foundations?’ He was setting up the background for The Sanity Inspectors but it is a question I ask myself on a regular basis about current affairs. And it is the question the protagonist Robert Vossmenge, a German air force psychiatrist in the 30’s and 40’s, struggles with throughout the story. Along the way Vossmenge debates the line between sanity and insanity, the need for compassion to understand others, and the role one should take in opposing oppressive and violent regimes. Truly an illuminating discussion.

·      The Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire, translated by Myra Bergman Ramos. The first time I read this book was while getting my undergraduate degree, the second during my years of my master’s degree, and the third this month. A good book to return to often to understand oppression and the role of education in freeing oppressed people. Pertinent today as much as when it was written in the 60’s, it’s like Freire is directly addressing the growing American Oligarchy and the oppressive administration. Great reading!

·      A Philosophy of Walking, Frédéric Gros, translated by John Howe. I took this book with me on my week-long walk on Germany’s Rennstieg and read it when I was not walking the trail. It is a great accompaniment to a week of slow hiking on a fantastic trail. Because my wife and I were not feeling well we dramatically slowed down our hiking pace and walked some distance apart. I felt exactly what Gros was talking about in his book: feeling embraced by the environment, escaping my identity, clearing my mind, and having nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other. Gros discusses prominent philosophers who incorporated walking into their daily routines along with accompanying thoughts about his own wanderings and a general history of walking. This is a very interesting read with plenty of insightful comments about the idea of walking and what it means to slow down and rebel against speed.

·      On Kindness, Adam Phillips and Barbara Taylor. Through historical, philosophical and psychoanalytic investigations Phillips and Taylor offer answers to the question why kindness seems so dangerous. They support the view that contemporary society drives out the natural kindness of children and that kindness is now seen as a weakness. A good primer on kindness

·      Wanderlust: A History of Walking, Rebecca Solnit. This was a nice companion read alongside Gros’ book while walking the Rennsteig. Unlike Gros’ focus on long distance walking, Solnit’s is an exhaustive history of walking, from walking in gardens and cities, to pilgrimages and marches. The guiding message of these essays is that walking ‘is a state in which the mind, the body, and the world are aligned.’ But Solnit also gives fair amount of time to the increasing lack of walking in today’s society due in large part to ‘automobilization and suburbanization.’ Not quite as intriguing as Gros’ book but still worth the read.

Reading List February 2026

Like January, a mere five books read this month, however the Weiss and the de Beauvoir both took a lot of time and effort. Very impressed with the Weiss and have the second and third volumes on my ‘to read’ shelf.

·      The Ethics of Ambiguity, Simone de Beauvoir, translated by Bernard Frechtman.

·      The Secret of Evil, Roberto Bolaño, translated by Chris Andrews and Natasha Wimmer.

·      The Will to Change, bell hooks.

·      Forensic Songs, Mike McCormack.

·      The Aesthetics of Resistance: Volume I, Peter Weiss, translated by Joachim Neugroschel.