I'm starting to finally realize that compilations of a single writers columns are just not for me. Reading one column here or there might be alright, even entertaining and thus worth those few minutes I've spent on the thing. But compilations, oh god, compilations... It becomes painfully obvious the writer's created a persona for writing these things, and what makes it the worst is how that persona is exceedingly limited. Compilations really bring out the formulaic nature of an individual's columns. The same joke patterns, the same underlying assumptions. Reading becomes such a chore.As if it wasn't tiresome enough, Woody Allen shoots it all up to a whole another level. I bet everybody knows at least one of those people who just can't help but cannon everybody with jokes after jokes after jokes, seemingly unable to say a single phrase without something that's trying to be witty with a spoonful of snark, right? This is how Allen's compilation of short story-like columns felt like. Allen has a mission. A mission to fill every single sentence with witty, snarky remarks. Every. Single. Sentence. Each of these sentences, if isolated, can arouse a chuckle or an approving smile. However, when it's nothing but that, no downtime from the remark, just constant machinegun fire of verbal acrobatics... Honestly, I numbed quickly to it. Witty remarks tend to be exhilarating when they have enough mundane flesh around them - because that's when they actually stand out. After 70 sentences of nothing but Allen trying to outdo himself in wittiness with each passing phrase, you just kind of end up wanting to choke him with this book. It turns annoying, really, really, really fast.Another thing is that Allen seems to be very much into reinforcing this stupid image where the only kind of sexy lady is one that has soccer balls for boobs, miles of legs, and pouty lips. I was jsut thoroughly exasperated by that image. I could have taken the remark once or twice, but it really seemed to be a theme much loved by the writer. Allen, dear... This book made me glad I've never seen a single one of your films. These columns right here have nothing profound to say, which gives me little hope the films would be any different.I must hence admit that my enjoyment level of this book was worth one star only, but the two stars are given solely because I do recognize he had some pretty interestingly construed sentences in there that I probably would have laughed at had Allen had the good sense to use them sparingly. See, I can be merciful like this on an occasion.
Woody Allenin novellikokoelma on suomentanut Juhani Loponen (Pelkkää anarkiaa), ja kirja koostuu nimensä mukaisesti melko absurdeista tai yllätyksellisistä 19 kertomuksesta (169 sivua).Suurin osa näistä anarkistisista novelleista sijoittuu New Yorkiin, ja aiheina on aika usein jokin lehtijuttu tai jollekin julkkikselle sattunut tapahtuma tai kommellus.Kokoelmana kirja on aika epätasainen. Muutamien täytenovellien lisäksi siinä on poskettoman hauskoja ja tragikoomisia kertomuksia. Jos lukija jaksaa kahlata lukemaansa läpi, puolenvälin jälkeen (Hylkäys, Yllätyskäänne Disney-oikeudenkäynnissä, Lex Pinchuck) tulevat parhaimmat. Ensin mainitussa lastentarha määrittelee koko perheen kohtalon ja jälkimmäisessä Disneyn entistä toimitusjohtajaa syytetään väärinkäytöksistä. Tällöin on tietysti luonnollista, että niin mikit kuin akutkin ovat todistamassa, ja uskottavuuden kannalta Cruisen Tomppa ja monet muutkin.Nyt kun elokuvaohjaajasta on kyse, novelleissa vilahtelevat viittaukset kulttuuri-ilmiöihin, ohjaajiin, jopa filosofeihin, joita pilkataan Aristoteleesta Schopenhaueriin. ”- - hän kehräsi sohvalla ja risti säärensä, eivätkä hänen mustat silkkisukkansa ottaneet vankeja.” ”- - uppouduin Danten pehmeäkantiseen Jumalaiseen näytelmään siinä toivossa että pääsisin rypemään kuvaelmissa, joissa korpinmustakutriset synnintekijät aaltoilevat puolialastomina rikinkatkussa ja kahleissa kuin suoraan Victoria´s Secretin sivuilta pyllähtäneinä.” ” -- remonttimies nimeltä Max Arbogast alias Chic Arbogast alias Specs Arbogast - vanankelmeä pikku ektomorfi, jonka kiilusilmät toivat mieleen valtausvarkaan jostakin Republic Picturesin länkkäristä.”Niinpä niin, dostojevskien ja muitten vanhojen klassikoitten vierittämisen jälkeen erilaisiin yhteyksiin on aika palata Amerikan mantereelle ja leffoihin. Jos joku muistaa ysärirainan, jossa näytteli Robert Redford, nimeltään Hevoskuiskaaja, tässä on jonkinmoinen alluusio. Heppapsykologi terapoi asiakastaan, joka kähisee takaisin kuiskaajalle tohtorin sosiaaliturvatunnuksen!Allen keksinyt hauskoja mielleyhtymiä (osa omia, osa omittu muualta), ja tässä vielä pari: ”Heräsin perjantaina, ja koska maailmankaikkeus laajenee, minulta kesti tavallista kauemmin löytää aamutakkini.” ”Ihminen on ainoa olento, joka toisinaan ei anna tarjoilijalle tippiä.”
Do You like book Mere Anarchy (2007)?
Woody Allen has a tap in his head. When he turns the tap on, out pour gags. Complex sentences setting up simple jokes, by the thousand. You might have read Getting Even, Without Feathers or Side Effects. They are books where Woody takes a single, silly premise, gets all Noo Yoik on its ass, via a few pages of first person narration and a metronomic set-up/punchline rhythm so exacting it's like a Drill Sergeant in clown shoes is shouting at Woody as he types.Well Woody hasn't marched this yard since 1980, but this is right back in step. The last book I read and reviewed, The Art Of Fielding" is about what happens when you start thinking about something you don't have to think about. Woody doesn't seem to worry about doing a bad job of something he's good at. You just get up and have another go the next day.This book is so good it's practically Runyonesque. "Twenty years in the Homicide Division of the NYPD and, brother, you've seen everything. Like when some Wall Street broker juliennes his little petit four over who gets to work the channel changer, or this lovesick rabbi decides to end it all by salting his beard with anthrax and inhaling. That's why when somebody reported a dead body on Riverside Drive at Eighty Third with no bullet holes, no stab wounds and no sign of struggle I didn't freak to some film-noir conclusion but put it down to one of the thousand natural shocks the Bard claims the flesh is heir to but don't ask me which one."Agent to meteoric and now fallen star:"Did I say take it easy? Did I not lecture myself blue in the punim on overweening ambition, using as a for instance Icarus?""Yes, but-""What but? Arvide Mite was only waxing hyperbolic when he said you could make the phone book into a hit. Only an idiot or a megalomaniac would have accepted the challenge. Especially the Yellow Pages."160 pages of big Woody joy, and even an afterword on the font. I couldn't ask for anymore, and if I did, I doubt anyone would hear me.
—Edmole
The stories within "Mere Anarchy" showcase the author's gifts for witticisms and clever puns; eighteen five-to-ten-pagers, most of which originally appeared in The New Yorker.I re-read many lines and jokes as I made my way through the brief 175-page collection. Very familiar with Woody Allen's films, I'm ashamed to say I'd never looked much into his prose. Some of the story setups--a man who has difficulty with his newly learned levitation skill; a movie star double kidnapped by extremists who buy into his con--are reminiscent of Allen's stranger comedy films from the 70s, or his segment of the "New York Stories" anthology. And the character names are quite brilliant; people with last names like Millipede; a character named Flanders Mealworm . . . I'm assured "Mere Anarchy" is the least of his prose collections, and so will need to get on reading the others.
—Mark R.
This collection of short stories by Woddy Allen started out great with a story about levitation that made me laugh out loud. It was so funny in its unexpected and clever way and I really enjoyed it. The writing was clever in the second and third stories, but I was getting tired of the style. After that, I realized that I wasn't having fun anymore! Woody Allen proved his clear superiority in the vocabulary department. After trying unsuccessfully to find several of his words in the dictionary and discovering they weren't there, I realized he was making half of them up and I only got the joke about half the time! It was a fun, albeit short, foray into Woody Allen's world. I'm glad I tried it, and I'm not sorry I didn't finish it! Partially,I suppose, it was a bit more humble pie than I wanted!
—Bev
