Gilbert Sorrentino (1929–2006)
Autor von Mulligan Stew
Über den Autor
Writer, critic and Stanford University professor Gilbert Sorrentino was born in Brooklyn, NY in 1929. He attended Brooklyn College until he served in the US Army Medical Corps. After his two years in the Army, he returned to Brooklyn College to finish his degree. Sorrentino founded and edited the mehr anzeigen literary magazine Neon. He also was an editor for Kulcher magazine and Grove Press. Sorrentino has earned two Guggenheim Fellowships, a Lannan Literary Award, and the 2005 Lannan Lifetime Achievement Award. He died on May 18, 2006. (Bowker Author Biography) weniger anzeigen
Werke von Gilbert Sorrentino
Five Exhibits from Painting the Moon 1 Exemplar
Neon Obit 1 Exemplar
A dozen oranges 1 Exemplar
Neon; Supplement to Now; Neon Orbit 1 Exemplar
Zugehörige Werke
Der Spatz meiner Herrin ist tot: Große Liebesgeschichten der Weltliteratur (2008) — Mitwirkender — 764 Exemplare
Epitaphs for Lorine — Mitwirkender — 5 Exemplare
TriQuarterly 34: Ongoing American Fiction IV (Fall 1975) — Mitwirkender — 1 Exemplar
Ironwood 28 Dickinson/Spicer: A Special Issue — Mitwirkender — 1 Exemplar
Truck 21, A 50th Birthday Celebration For Jonathan Williams — Mitwirkender — 1 Exemplar
Getagged
Wissenswertes
- Geburtstag
- 1929-04-27
- Todestag
- 2006-05-18
- Geschlecht
- male
- Nationalität
- USA
- Geburtsort
- Brooklyn, New York, USA
- Sterbeort
- Brooklyn, New York, USA
- Wohnorte
- New York, New York, USA
- Ausbildung
- Brooklyn College
- Berufe
- novelist
poet
editor
publisher - Beziehungen
- Sorrentino, Christopher (son)
Selby Jr., Hubert (friend) - Organisationen
- United States Army Medical Corps
- Preise und Auszeichnungen
- Lannan Literary Award (Fiction, 1992)
Lannan Literary Award (Lifetime Achievement, 2005)
American Academy of Arts and Letters Academy Award (Literature, 1985)
John Dos Passos Prize (1981)
Mitglieder
Rezensionen
The Abyss of Human Illusion von Gilbert Sorrentino
Take it for what it is, a sort of end-of-life reflection on life, without taking on the maudlin form of a memoir. Definitely not for everybody, but the cynic and curmudgeon will find a chuckle here and there.
A novel without a plot, starring characters which aren't fully formed. So why does it work?
Sorrentino is using this flimsiest of frameworks to attack the false, the exploitative, and the undeserving of the Art World. He names no names, which adds a sort of timelessness to the mockery: if you don't know specifically who Sorrentino is referring to, you certainly know of somebody like them.
The approach wears a bit thin at times, but Sorrentino's wearily-amused tone keeps the book palatable. The only real downside is that it's too meta to recommend to some readers who might otherwise appreciate its humor.… (mehr)
Sorrentino is using this flimsiest of frameworks to attack the false, the exploitative, and the undeserving of the Art World. He names no names, which adds a sort of timelessness to the mockery: if you don't know specifically who Sorrentino is referring to, you certainly know of somebody like them.
The approach wears a bit thin at times, but Sorrentino's wearily-amused tone keeps the book palatable. The only real downside is that it's too meta to recommend to some readers who might otherwise appreciate its humor.… (mehr)
I wish I had reviewed this right away. It was about a month ago that I read it, as of the date I write this; now, my ability to form a very clear and comprehensive picture of it is somewhat diluted.
I can say this:
Its ending seemed somewhat less significant or powerful than I expected, but it was in perfect keeping with the tone of the rest of the novel. The title is a trifle overblown, judging by the end. Even the most fiendish things Red does are mitigated by some very human self-justification, and after that peak I found his vileness actually mitigating itself over the rest of the novel.
He did not strike me as a fiend so much as a slightly worse example of most of humanity -- just enough worse so that the potential for foulness in people manifested in more directly recognizable forms. The usual weak self-justifications, mental contortions to avoid cognitive dissonance, and spite were cast in slightly starker light than usual.
I have read this book and several of Sorrentino's short stories. I liked the short stories more, though Red the Fiend was a worthwhile read as well.… (mehr)
I can say this:
Its ending seemed somewhat less significant or powerful than I expected, but it was in perfect keeping with the tone of the rest of the novel. The title is a trifle overblown, judging by the end. Even the most fiendish things Red does are mitigated by some very human self-justification, and after that peak I found his vileness actually mitigating itself over the rest of the novel.
He did not strike me as a fiend so much as a slightly worse example of most of humanity -- just enough worse so that the potential for foulness in people manifested in more directly recognizable forms. The usual weak self-justifications, mental contortions to avoid cognitive dissonance, and spite were cast in slightly starker light than usual.
I have read this book and several of Sorrentino's short stories. I liked the short stories more, though Red the Fiend was a worthwhile read as well.… (mehr)
I've only read one road-trip book before. Quirky, girl-gets-over-old-love, meets-new-love, feel-good but-not-too-good, lots of asides about those bits of the US y'all laugh at. Not my cup of tea, though it sold lots of copies and it won't surprise me if the movie version pops up on your (sic) netflix menu.
I didn't realise, when I opened this that it was a road-trip novel. For a start, it takes some pages to figure out what's going on. And I found the poetry of it stopped any flow. It has an Under Milkwood beguiling sense that it should be read aloud. I would read a couple of pages and then go back and read it aloud in my head. Maybe half way through the book I stopped doing that, and I'm not sure if that was just taking for granted what earlier distracted me, or if the style of writing somewhat changes. I should note that I read the 1986 edition, a revision of the 1966 edition, itself the author's first novel.
Feel good (but not too good), girly lit this is not. I'm not surprised to see that he takes on the mantle and the cause of William Carlos Williams: the similarities are obvious. For more on Sorrentino's work and his relationship with WCW, see Ken Bolton's article in Jacket Magazine.
It you read Sorrentino's wiki page, you are immediately hit by 'post-modernist' and 'meta-fiction' and that makes you go to goodreads with a sneaking feeling....yes, the only one of your friends to have reviewed this is MJ. Fortunately I only did this after finishing the book. Post-modern? Meta-fiction? Absolutely not - and perhaps that's why MJ excoriated it after his first reading. It's just a straightforward tale of the breakdown of social relations at a time we now remember fondly for the social devastation wreaked. I wonder if you needed to be closer in generation to that period in order to feel the heat of this book? Sorrentino muses on the nature of memory. I love this:
This book is incredibly dense, it's short but has so much in it. His inept relationship with his kids, the false nature of friendship. The pissing away of life - through alcohol in particular - that was integral to the scene he is part of. The changing geography and social fabric of the America they pass through as they head from NY to Mexico. The North South divide. Lying and denial as the basis of relationships. It's quite misleading to talk of this as a book about divorce. It is about relationships of all sorts and their fraught, dishonest bases.
rest here: https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2018/12/16/the-sky-changes-by-gilber...… (mehr)
I didn't realise, when I opened this that it was a road-trip novel. For a start, it takes some pages to figure out what's going on. And I found the poetry of it stopped any flow. It has an Under Milkwood beguiling sense that it should be read aloud. I would read a couple of pages and then go back and read it aloud in my head. Maybe half way through the book I stopped doing that, and I'm not sure if that was just taking for granted what earlier distracted me, or if the style of writing somewhat changes. I should note that I read the 1986 edition, a revision of the 1966 edition, itself the author's first novel.
Feel good (but not too good), girly lit this is not. I'm not surprised to see that he takes on the mantle and the cause of William Carlos Williams: the similarities are obvious. For more on Sorrentino's work and his relationship with WCW, see Ken Bolton's article in Jacket Magazine.
It you read Sorrentino's wiki page, you are immediately hit by 'post-modernist' and 'meta-fiction' and that makes you go to goodreads with a sneaking feeling....yes, the only one of your friends to have reviewed this is MJ. Fortunately I only did this after finishing the book. Post-modern? Meta-fiction? Absolutely not - and perhaps that's why MJ excoriated it after his first reading. It's just a straightforward tale of the breakdown of social relations at a time we now remember fondly for the social devastation wreaked. I wonder if you needed to be closer in generation to that period in order to feel the heat of this book? Sorrentino muses on the nature of memory. I love this:
If they hadn't built that fucking house we would have stayed, he thought, we would have stayed and everything would have been OK. What he meant by OK was that everything would have remained in its long-ago attained state of rot, but it would have been submerged rot. He needed, however, the monumentally trite fable of the good old days to avoid their drab truth, in his heart he suspected, even, that the time would come when he would speak, and perhaps even think, of this trip as fun, as adventure, this very moment would become part of the good old days.
This book is incredibly dense, it's short but has so much in it. His inept relationship with his kids, the false nature of friendship. The pissing away of life - through alcohol in particular - that was integral to the scene he is part of. The changing geography and social fabric of the America they pass through as they head from NY to Mexico. The North South divide. Lying and denial as the basis of relationships. It's quite misleading to talk of this as a book about divorce. It is about relationships of all sorts and their fraught, dishonest bases.
rest here: https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2018/12/16/the-sky-changes-by-gilber...… (mehr)
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