Wednesday, 5 August 2015
I'd feared Victor Pelevin, the author of the contemporary book that gave me most pleasure, The Clay Machine Gun, had in a sense had his day or whose inner star had faded . . . but after a ridiculous & strange delay in his works being translated, I recently read his S.N.U.F.F. and thankfully his unique genius and x-ray and liberating cultural vision is pretty rampant again. In his way something of a modern Russian Aldous Huxley, and it's not unrelated to both Brave New World and Ape and Essence. I don't think he considers potential critical fawning over his works as having much to do with his existential state of being, and can be pretty flippant with his art . . . but anyway have no aptitude - cloaking maybe a lack of talent - for writing about books so just to say I thought overall S.N.U.F.F. not faultless, but still fantastic, and will re-read soon.