Claude Houghton (1889–1961)

Not going to make this long, just plain and simple. "I am Jonathan Scrivener" is one of the most fascinating, thought-provoking, and prescient books I have read in a good while. It is a novel but, much more. One reviewer described it as an existential mystery. Clearly ahead of his time, the author lays out many of the dilemmas that spawned the intellectual ferment of the twentieth-century. His insights and comments remain powerful and relevant. A simple and relatively brief work that demands a serious reading. All this while being entertained by the "mystery". A work that has clearly been unfairly overlooked.… (plus d'informations)

In response to Mellifluous, the account you have seen sounds curiously wide of the mark. "Writers Three: A Literary Exchange" (Alyscamps Press, 1995) includes the letter of fourteen mostly substantial paragraphs which Henry Miller wrote to Houghton after being introduced to his work. It begins

"Dear Mr. Oldfield,

I have just been through a great experience - the reading of several of your books - and feel compelled to let you know of my indebtedness to you..."

and closes

"...There is so much I could say about this work of yours, and about the others, but I fear this is getting out of bounds. All I want you to know is that I have got something more than enjoyment from your books. I go about like a child, asking - 'Have you ever read Claude Houghton?' I want to put your books in everybody's hands. You are an awakener - and how we dead need to be awakened! Do drop me a line and tell me that you are alive and well, will you?

Sincerely Yours,

Henry Miller".

Needless to say, the commentary in the course of the letter is indicative of a response far more than courteous.… (plus d'informations)

Da Pirandello a Rashomon e ritorno

Per strani incroci di lettura ho appena lasciato il Bartleby di Vila-Matas e incontro un altro Bartleby. La definizione in questo caso non è mia, ma di I. Bignardi, http://ricerca.repubblica.it/repubblica/archivio/repubblica/2014/09/28/il-nuovo-...
E questa volta è un Bartleby che mi ha catturato. Un vero romanzo psicologico, un’indagine sul problema dell’identità, sulle molte facce di ogni persona, sui diversi comportamenti che ognuno assume di fronte a interlocutori diversi. E anche un romanzo sull’affannosa ricerca di una propria strada, sui tentativi di dare un senso alla propria vita, con un atteggiamento di fondo molto pessimista quanto alla possibilità di trovarlo. Molto inglese nell’ambientazione, una Londra dei primi decenni del secolo scorso, ancora imperiale, ma con segni premonitori dello sgretolamento imminente della grande potenza . Molto inglese anche lo stile di scrittura, una volta tanto rispettato e ben reso nella traduzione, forse anche aiutata dalla precedente versione di Oreste del Buono. Alcune frasi e osservazioni sono scolpite con grande potenza e mi rammarico di non averne subito preso nota. Purtroppo non riesco a ritrovarle. E’ una lezione. Appuntare subito e non aspettare domani.… (plus d'informations)

One thing I would like to take up with Claude if I were a necromancier concerns the names he gives his characters. Even the Übermensch himself in "All Change Humanity" has the solid, steady name of Christopher Bell. In this book, we have Guy Massingham whose natural artistic curiosity and ennui has him get entangled with the chaotic ways of the Petersleys, the house at the end of the street where the grass never gets cut and the curtains are always drawn.
CH could be said to have the agoraphobia of a surreptitious desktop writer (as an accountant in London while Paris was ablaze), and the thinly veiled didactic underpinning will put off most modern readers. It is for this message that his work was passed onto Henry Miller- the artist par excellence- who received it courteously by the account I have, but nothing more.… (plus d'informations)