Though not an avid reader of modern fiction, I am well aware of the types of books usually esteemed worthy of attention by those involved in the more cerebral publications such as The Atlantic, The New Yorker, and salon.com. Based on numerous reviews I have read in these publications, it appears that what makes a novel worth reading these days is how well it represents the inner despair of mundane, modern existence. For instance, the titles of two of the selections in The Atlantic's very short list of the "Books of the Year: 2009" speak for themselves: It's Beginning to Hurt
by James Lasdun and Too Much Happiness
by Alice Munro. Here is the brief synopsis of Lasdun's novel provided in the Atlantic article:
"This collection of short stories illuminates the everyday agonies of the mind, its anxieties, obsessions, doubts, and yearnings" (Benjamin Schwarz, The Atlantic, Dec. 2009).
And, according to an earlier review in the same publication of Munro's novel, what makes Munro's work worthy of esteem is that she is a "genius" at "evoking lives rich with secret horrors" (from the Nov. 2009 "Cover to Cover").
Sounds pretty depressing, doesn't it?
About a week ago, however, I stumbled upon this segment of Kevin James' stand up routine on Comedy Central and I couldn't help but notice that situations which would be considered sources of anxiety and "secret horrors" to the modern novelist were, to the comedian, sources of utter hilarity:
My conclusion is thus: The modern novelist and the comedian are both interested in the same depressing, mundane minutiae of daily existence. The only difference is that the novelist has no sense of humor.
by James Lasdun and Too Much Happiness by Alice Munro. Here is the brief synopsis of Lasdun's novel provided in the Atlantic article:"This collection of short stories illuminates the everyday agonies of the mind, its anxieties, obsessions, doubts, and yearnings" (Benjamin Schwarz, The Atlantic, Dec. 2009).
And, according to an earlier review in the same publication of Munro's novel, what makes Munro's work worthy of esteem is that she is a "genius" at "evoking lives rich with secret horrors" (from the Nov. 2009 "Cover to Cover").
Sounds pretty depressing, doesn't it?
About a week ago, however, I stumbled upon this segment of Kevin James' stand up routine on Comedy Central and I couldn't help but notice that situations which would be considered sources of anxiety and "secret horrors" to the modern novelist were, to the comedian, sources of utter hilarity:
My conclusion is thus: The modern novelist and the comedian are both interested in the same depressing, mundane minutiae of daily existence. The only difference is that the novelist has no sense of humor.
I appreciate the work of all people who share information with others.
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