Friday, October 25, 2019

“Kitchen Curse: Stories” by Eka Kurniawan (translated by Annie Tucker)

This is a collection of short stories from the Indonesian writer, Eka Kurniawan. Some stories are propelled by the magical realism found in his novels, “Beauty is a Wound” and “Man Tiger.” There is a dog-like creature, who learns to walk on two legs and shoot a gun. There is a stone, who ponders morality and is consumed by thoughts of revenge. There is a talking elephant, who possibly ends up regretting what he wished for. Some of Kurniawan’s stories are personal, others have a political bent. Some have a moral tale that makes you think after it’s done. He often gives voice to the downtrodden—a prostitute, a slave-cook, and a kid who gets beat up in school. One reoccurring feature of his stories is at least a couple of lines that will make the reader chuckle. His first story, “Graffiti in the Toilet,” contains the basic truth, “But in this world everyone is condemned to pee.” In another, “Pigpen,” he states, “He was just like us: he liked to eat and then take a good crap.” Kurniawan’s politics show sympathy for communists. He usually does it with a wink and a grin. “There was only one person in the entire village who had voted for the People’s Democratic Party and everyone knew it was my younger brother, the chicken farmer, because he was the only person in the whole village who had put their campaign sign up in his front yard. “Another one of your sons is a cummunist!” Once again, father just laughed. I knew he would be more upset to see one of his children steal a fish from a neighbor’s pond than to see one of us wear a Lenin T-shirt and the other vote PDP.”

Friday, October 18, 2019

“The Topeka School” by Ben Lerner

Lerner’s novel is auto-fiction, written from the perspectives of multiple narrative voices, but also trying to comment on the larger societal forces that have shaped America today. It uses the microscopic lens of one boy’s coming of age to comment on macro political trends. Lerner’s “Self” is fictionalized as Adam Gordon, a senior at Topeka High, class of 1997. The novel shifts between being told in the third person from high school Adam’s vantage point to contemporary first person narratives by his father, Jonathan, and his mother, Jane. The novel also sometimes gets meta, with contemporary Adam, speaking as a novelist in 2019, interjecting with commentary. “Who is this unsmiling seventeen-year-old boy whose hair is drawn into a ponytail while the sides of his head are shaved, a disastrous tonsorial compromise between the lefty household of his parents and the red state in which he was raised?” The chapters flow seamlessly between these voices. The multiple perspectives allow the family history to gradually unfold through flashbacks, as the reader sees how the family unit has been shaped by each individual’s subjective processing of past events. Both of Adam’s parents are psychoanalysts, adding to the layers of disguised meaning. During the course of the narrative, sexual boundaries are explored, gender roles are questioned, alcohol and drugs are abused, race and socioeconomic hierarchy is churned over, multiple infidelities are exposed, repressed incest is recollected, and a thrown cueball breaks a young girl’s jaw. It is also a hilarious book. “Objecting to the diagnosis of penis envy was a sure sign of penis envy.”

The novel deals with the tensions of being the Gordons, an intellectual family stuck living in Kansas. “The problem for him in high school was that debate made you a nerd and poetry made you a pussy—even if both could help you get to the vaguely imagined East Coast city from which your experiences in Topeka would be recounted with great irony.” Lerner suggests that the process of growing up for an adolescent boy was all one big pose. It involved navigating the subtle images that one wanted to project to multiple audiences at once—your parents, your peers, your teachers. “The thin beige braided belt he wore to secure his sagging pants for instance somehow constituted less a single bad decision than a deep incomprehension of the language game in which he was attempting to feign fluency.” Even adult role models teach that your image of Self is a role one puts on. “You need to be winning hearts as much as minds. What you have in your favor is Kansas. You have Midland American English. I want quick swerves into the folksy. “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig.” That kind of thing. I want you saying, right after some hyper-eloquent riff about Yeltsin breaking a promise, “Now, in Kansas, we call that a lie.” After you go off about a treaty regulating drilling in the Arctic: “Now, in Kansas, we wouldn’t shake on that.” I don’t care if they’re tried-and-true. Say “tried-and-true.” Say “ain’t” if you want. You can go agrammatical so long as they know it’s a choice, that it’s in quotes. Interrupt your highbrow fluency with bland sound bites of regional decency. Why do you think they elect Texans who went to Yale, Arkansan Rhodes Scholars?” Lerner implies that there was a fine line, made up of tiny individual life decisions, that separated him, now a professor of English at Brooklyn College, from the boys who would grow up to be stuck in Topeka, now wearing red MAGA hats in 2019. “Instead of focusing on the fight, zoom in on the fascinating and absurd spectacle of the gang signs that precede it: Reynolds, the son of Realtors, working his fingers into the word “blood,” throwing up his set, miming the manual language of a Los Angeles street gang to which he could bear no coherent relation; see Nowak, who has a real if unloaded pistol tucked into the waist of his sagging jeans, respond with a rapid array of finger movements based on the signs of “Folks,” which originated in the projects of Chicago, which may or may not have been a presence in Topeka, but certainly not among these white kids mainly bound for college who had no volk beyond their common privilege.” Throughout Adam’s life, everything, in the end, comes down to power dynamics. “We were a couple of privileged crackers with divergent parenting strategies; we were two sovereignless men in a Hobbesian state of nature on the verge of primal confrontation.” Lerner’s novel questions how much of one’s Self is really up to the individual; how many of one’s actions are shaped by a past we might have no control over. “I was having my own experience of depersonalization, no drugs involved—an overwhelming sense of frames of reference giving way, of the past and present colliding in on one another.”


Friday, October 11, 2019

“Normal People” by Sally Rooney

Rooney’s second novel details the enduring relationship of a young man and woman, Connell and Marianne, as they age through their last year of high school and into their college years at Trinity in Dublin. Connell’s mother, Lorraine, also happens to be employed cleaning Marianne’s mother’s mansion. Lorraine had Connell when she was seventeen. Connell doesn’t care to know who his father is. An uncle or two has spent time in jail. Stark relationship imbalances are a recurring theme in Rooney’s work. 

In school, the two are the smartest kids. But, Connell is the popular star soccer player and Marianne is the weird loner with no friends. Even her mother and brother seem to think she is odd and resent her. “Marianne had the sense that her real life was happening somewhere very far away, happening without her, and she didn’t know if she would ever find out where it was and become part of it. She had that feeling in school often, but it wasn’t accompanied by any specific images of what the real life might look like or feel like. All she knew was that when it started, she wouldn’t need to imagine it anymore.”

Connell keeps his relationship with Marianne a secret from everyone at school, even though they start having sex regularly. “He has a life in Carricklea, he has friends. If he went to college in Galway he could stay with the same social group, really, and live the life he has always planned on, getting a good degree, having a nice girlfriend. People would say he had done well for himself. On the other hand, he could go to Trinity like Marianne. Life would be different then. He would start going to dinner parties and having conversations about the Greek bailout. He would fuck some weird-looking girls who turn out to be bisexual. I’ve read The Golden Notebook, he could tell them. It’s true, he has read it. After that he would never come back to Carricklea, he would go somewhere else, London, or Barcelona. People would not necessarily think he had done well; some people might think he had gone very bad, while others would forget him entirely.” By year’s end, the two have a dramatic falling out and Marianne stops attending school.

At Trinity, Connell is the fish out of water and Marianne blossoms into the sexy, popular girl on campus. She moves with a rich crowd, whose parents are all investment bankers and doctors, she begins to dress posh, and tries to hide her Sligo accent. Connell and Marianne meet at her boyfriend’s party and resume some sort of relationship, as they feel a strange bond no one else seems to understand. They sleep with each other on and off through college, but never identify as a couple. “Rich people look out for each other, and being Marianne’s best friend and suspected sexual partner has elevated Connell to the status of rich-adjacent: someone for whom surprise birthday parties are thrown and cushy jobs are procured out of nowhere.” Every time they seem on the verge of a conventional relationship, however, life keeps getting in the way. “I think we’re at that weird age where life can change a lot from small decisions.”


“Conversations with Friends” by Sally Rooney

Rooney has written a novel for the age. Set in contemporary Dublin, it is narrated by a twenty-one year old lesbian communist poet, just finishing up at university. Her direct narration is sparingly interspersed with chunks of email, texts, and instant message chains. Tinder plays a cameo-role. The plot revolves around the narrator, Francis, her ex-girlfriend/still best-friend, Bobbi, and their new friends, Melissa and Nick, a married couple in their thirties, one a photographer/writer, the other a B-movie/theatre actor. The casual flirting, biting sarcasm, hidden jealousies, intellectual one up-man-ship, and sexual tensions quickly flow between and across the couples. “Bobbi wanted me to know that she had been in touch with Melissa when I hadn’t. It did impress me, which she wanted it to, but I also felt bad. I knew Melissa like Bobbi more than she liked me, and I didn’t know how to join in their new friendship without debasing myself for their attention…. Bobbi did come over that night, though she didn’t mention Melissa at all. I knew that she was being strategic, and that she wanted me to ask, so I didn’t. This sounds more passive-aggressive than it really was.” Much of the interplay in all these relationships revolve around the idea of status and power, often unspoken. “I noticed that Nick had dropped my name into conversation, as if to show that he remembered me from last time we talked. Of course, I remembered his name too, but he was older and somewhat famous, so I found his attention very flattering.” Much of the action also seems much like a giant pose. Everyone is trying so hard, while playing that their lives are lived so effortlessly. “I wrote a sample message, and then deleted the draft in case I might accidentally hit send. Then I wrote the same thing over again.” Every detail of technological protocol could be misinterpreted and, therefore, was fraught with unsaid meaning. “I read his e-mail again several times. I was relieved he had put the whole thing in lower case like he always did. It would have been dramatic to introduce capitalization at such a moment of tension.” Rooney is at her best when getting into the mind of the post-modern student, playing at being a communist, feminist intellectual. “Bobbi and I walked along underused paths kicking leaves and talking about things like the idea of landscape painting. Bobbi thought the fetishization of “untouched nature” was intrinsically patriarchal and nationalistic.” Relationships with friends are always hard. They are even harder when trying to wear a mask of a constantly put-together adult. “It made me want to step on her foot very hard and then look in her face and deny that I had done it. No, I would say. I don’t know what you’re talking about. And she would look at me and know that I was evil and insane.” The plot of the novel is almost besides the point. It is the interaction between the characters which is so powerful. Each person wants to be smart, witty, and sexy. But more importantly, they want to be though of as smart, witty, and sexy to all the others in their social circle. “I felt sorry for all of us, like we were just little children pretending to be adults.”

Friday, October 4, 2019

“The Marginal Revolutionaries” by Janek Wasserman

This is a history of the Austrian School of economics, starting with Carl Menger and running through the non-Austrian Austrians, such as Israel Kirzner and Murray Rothbard. As such, it details the milieu of fin-de-siecle Vienna, as well as the mass emigration of economists from Austria in the 1930s, as fascism encroached. As a school, Austrian economics focuses on methodological individualism, subjective value, capital and the role of time in that process, uncertainty and the role of the entrepreneur, and, of course, marginal utility. Along with Walras and Jevons, in 1862, Menger rediscovered the marginal utility of value in contradistinction to the prevailing labor theory of value of the day. He explained, “Hence the value to this person of any portion of the whole available quantity of the good is equal to the importance to him of the satisfactions of least importance among those assured by the whole quantity and achieved with an equal portion.” His student Friedrich Wieser would simplify, “Simply put, the value of an individual unit [of a good] is determined by the least valuable of the economically permitted uses of that unit.”

Another student of Menger’s, Eugen von Bohm-Bawerk added the role of time preference, particularly in reference to capital structure and roundabout methods of production. Bohm explained, “That roundabout methods lead to greater results than direct methods is one of the most important and fundamental propositions in the whole theory of production.” In doing so, he posited a reason for a natural rate of interest and the value of present money over future claims on money.  Wasserman also explains that Bohm was one of the first economists to give a prime role in the economy to the entrepreneur. “He defined the entrepreneur sociologically as the class of individuals engaged in speculative ventures. They earned their wealth not through the exploitation of labor or land but through their far-sighted commitment to the production of goods. Their dedication to roundabout production methods for future gain distinguished them from other market participants.”

Ludwig von Mises’ approach to all economics could be boiled down to just one a priori principle, the action axiom: all human action is rational and a purposeful consideration of means and ends. He wrote, “Choosing determines all human decisions. In making his choice man chooses not only between various material things and services. All human values are offered for option. All ends and all means, both material and ideal issues, the sublime and the base, the noble and ignoble, are ranged in a single row and subjected to a decision which picks out one thing and sets aside another.” This was his theory of praxeology, human action. “Its statements and propositions are not derived from experience. They are, like those of logic and mathematics, a priori.” The writer Edward Dolan summarized, “The Austrian method, simply put, is to spin out by verbal deductive reasoning the logical implications of a few fundamental axioms. First among the axioms is the fact of purposeful human action.”

One of Mises’ greatest contributions to business cycle theory was the non-neutral role of the money supply and inflation. Depending on where in the economy the new money was injected, it distorted relative prices, while not adding overall value. Money injection created artificially low interest rates, which precipitated boom and bust cycles, as entrepreneurs were mistakenly signaled into starting capital projects that the natural Wicksellian rate would not have warranted. Mises explained, “The moment must eventually come when no further extension of the circulation of fiduciary media is possible. Then the catastrophe occurs, and its consequences are the worse and the reaction against the bull tendency of the market the stronger, the longer the period during which the rate of interest on loans has been low below the natural rate of interest and the greater the extent to which roundabout processes of production that are not justified by the state of the capital market have been adopted.” Mises was also the Austrian School’s most vociferous critic of socialism. “Once society abandons free pricing of production goods rational production becomes impossible. Every step that leads away from private ownership of the means of production and the use of money is a step away from rational economic activity.”

Friedrich von Hayek stressed the impossibility of calculation in a socialist economy. Calculation of the value of goods is impossible without relative market prices. It is also impossible under socialism because individuals’ subjective values are constantly shifting. There is no objective data of value to compile. The division of knowledge, both technical and of subjective value, is dispersed throughout all of society. In a market economy, Hayek stated, “The spontaneous interaction of a number of people, each possessing only bits of knowledge, brings about a state of affairs in which prices correspond to costs.”

The modern Austrian School of economics is often conflated with the libertarian political persuasion. However, Austrian economists qua economists wanted to keep economics a value-free science. Israel Kirzner explains, “It is quite true that for many in the U.S. the term “Austrian economics” is synonymous with laissez-faire. And I suppose it happens to be true the Austrian economists are generally “in favor of” the free market. But it can, I believe, be maintained (at least I hope so) that Austrian economics by itself does not embody those judgments of value without which, I believe, a case for non-intervention cannot be built.”