Word: novelized
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...take a mystery out of the library. It would be like showing a surfing movie at the Bleeker Street. And so I never got to read that last novel...
...narrative. Though he claims in the introduction that he means this book to be the autobiographical recollections of a working scientist, one senses that Watson tries to write about scientific discovery as Melville did about whaling, or Hemingway about bullfighting. Watson wants his autobiographical recollections to be a novel: the novel about science...
...been putting off reading Lowry's novel, partly because it was "about Mexico," and could be found prominently displayed on the paperback racks in all the Sanborn's in Mexico City. And, too, there was something irksomely cultish about the Lowry fans I had met. They talked of Malcolm and Margerie, rather than Lowry and his wife. They had visited all the places in the book. Hadn't Malcolm got that one just right, and now I know exactly how he felt, and drunk too! even though Lowry had lived in Mexico thirty years ago when nothing could possibly have...
...Lowry cultists could not discuss the novel intelligently. It had changed their lives, and that was that. Others, less sympathetic to Lowry, generally argued that the novel was "uneven." The first two hundred pages were deadly slow, they told me; only in the last chapters did things really begin to move. If you could get by the first two hundred, you were fine...
...began Under the Volcano as the train left the quiet, modern city of San Luis Potosi, read through the night, and finished it just outside of Nuevo Laredo. Even from the first deliberately subdued chapters, I found the novel completely engrossing. By the mid-point I was entirely under Lowry's spell. The distractions of each station-stop became intertwined with the awesome experience of discovering Malcolm Lowry. A small pig urinated on my duffle bag, right there in the car. Lowry's Consul awoke from a drunken stupor, trying to focus on the scorpion in front of him, stringing...