How the Dead Live

Blurb (or foreword, I can't exactly remember) of this book, presents it as a satire...In a certain way, it is right. But, in some other way it lacks few imortant imformation. When one think of a satire, one think at instant of political attacks towards rulling caste, towards media, and towards every aspect of life that you can think about. Here you will find only an old, overweight women, whose thought resemble our own in a scarry manner... All wordly struggle of good and evil does not make a sense once you are dead, all that is left s longin...longing for daughters, longing for sex, longing for food, longing for everything that makes life what life actually is... and in a ceratin way that is all satirical that this book has. Of course you'll find sarcastic remarks, of course you'll find critique of society, but that does not make this book outstanding... What does is feeling of timeliness you suddenly feel upon completing final pages. Suddenly you start to wonder - 'where have all the good times gone'

If you enjoy Self's surreal mindscapes and jackhammer wit, you will appreciate this addition to his literary canon. All of the Self trademarks are here: the awesome imagination, the caustic commentary and the subtle and ingenious wordplay. And, for me at least, there were several added bonuses that make this easily my favorite Will book: a fully drawn character (narrator and protagonist Lily Bloom) with whom to identify and empathize; and a certain level of authorial compassion for the character that wasn't evident in previous works like "My Idea of Fun" or "Great Apes." The result is that, as a reader, I found myself drawn to the character rather than simultaneously fascinated with and repelled by her...which is a more typical response to previous Self characters. The "plot," such as it is, is described ad nauseum here, so another summary isn't necessary. Let me just say that as a reader, I was captivated from start to finish, and find myself recalling certain bits of narrative and imagery even as I've moved on with my life and read other books. I'm actually looking forward to attaining a little bit of objective distance from this book and reading it again, maybe in a year or so, with the hope of discovering new insights and nuances I didn't catch in my first reading.

Considering some of the unredeemed grotesqueness Self has penned, it's nice to know that he's capable of redeemed grotesqueness. This book is overlong, particularly in its final pages, which seem mostly to be a compendium of unrooted observations Self couldn't bear to let go of. It is dense and unpleasant (no problem unless it's perversely so--which it certainly is at times). It is unresolved at too many points, not through any apparent intention but seemingly through authorial amnesia. And yet...it's compelling. And, perhaps more surprisingly for Self, it declares its worthiness not in the form of a challenge--which he certainly has mastered--but as an invitation. He's not yet as comfortable with the notion of offering work that's rewarding in terms other than those of the masochist, yet this book proves how extraordinary even a cautious step in this direction can be, for both author and reader.

More than anything, Self's new book focuses on the final death of modernism, through the despiritualization and commodification of every aspect of human life, including procreation. More an idea novel than one concerned with character and plot, the book explores this theme in the context of the Tibetan view of death, that one's perils in passing to the afterlife are the products of one's own mind. Lily Bloom, the main character, living in death much as she did in life, watches from the grave her two daughters fall prey to empty worlds within and without in the aftermath of modernism's failed optimism. Lily notes in appreciatively subtle ways that life, even within its extreme mundanity, makes less and less sense. As grim as this view is, something within Lily fights to be reborn, even as she knows the future grows more uncertain. It is this elusive impulse that gives hope to an otherwise dark, depressing read.

There comes a point about midway through Will Self's new novel when one realises that his prose isn't actually going anywhere--but stick with it. This is one, long, vile rant from the dying and then dead protagonist, Lily Bloom, who is undeniably a product of her times (coming of age in the '50's, hedonist in the '60's, etc.) and her experience (upper middle class Jewish/American living abroad, several marriages, etc.). It's a pretty repugnant, though darkly, darkly humorous, depiction. She's dying of cancer. Then she's dead. But every page just crackles w/ Self's boundless (and almost blinding) verbal energy and dexterity; the author is never self-censoring though his wordplay does get a bit cheeky. Self also doesn't do himself any favours having his anti-heroine summarising her life through an endless list of historical events that doesn't shed any light on either subject. But overall, it's a provocative and imaginative reflection of the anti-thesis of the title: it's about how we live (an alternative title: It's a Not So Wonderful Life). The novel sprints to the finish line in it's final quarter w/ a fascinating and well-written account that can only be described as Carlos Castenada Goes To The Outback; the reader suddenly and unexpectedly starts to realise the riches of this work, primarily, a bizarre meditation on the nature of parenting and the responsibilities inherent in being a mother and a child. HTDL is merciless and compellingly unsentimental. Well worth reading-a must for Self enthusiasts, a great place to start for newbies.