Forgotten Work
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- ¥1,200
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- ¥1,200
発行者による作品情報
A New York Times New & Noteworthy Book • "Strange and affectionate, like Almost Famous penned by Shakespeare. A love letter to music in all its myriad iterations."—Kirkus Reviews • "This book has no business being as good as it is."—Christian Wiman
In the year 2063, on the edge of the Crater formerly known as Montréal, a middle-aged man and his ex’s daughter search for a cult hero: the leader of a short-lived band named after a forgotten work of poetry and known to fans through a forgotten work of music criticism. In this exuberantly plotted verse novel, Guriel follows an obsessive cult-following through the twenty-first century. Some things change (there’s metamorphic smart print for music mags; the Web is called the “Zuck”). Some things don’t (poetry readings are still, mostly, terrible). But the characters, including a robot butler who stands with Ishiguro’s Stevens as one of the great literary domestics, are unforgettable.
Splicing William Gibson with Roberto Bolaño, Pale Fire with Thomas Pynchon, Forgotten Work is a time-tripping work of speculative fiction. It’s a love story about fandom, an ode to music snobs, a satire on the human need to value the possible over the actual—and a verse novel of Nabokovian virtuosity.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Guriel's playful debut novel (after the poetry collection Satisfying Clicking Sound) explores the nature of fandom and inspiration. Writer Geoff Gibson is obsessed with musical auteur Jim Gordon and the only album produced by his group, Mountain Tea, titled The Dead. Guriel begins with passionate Jim putting together his "garage band" with sky-high artistic aspirations while under the influence of Nabokov (he considers calling the band Pale Fire, after his favorite artwork of any medium). The fact that band members Lou, Hal, and "wet and woeful" Dennis have different passions augurs ill for the group. Years later, they get a rave review and attention from an influential writer, which impresses the dogged Gibson. After Gibson expresses his devotion to the group's legacy, a former "Tea" member sends Gibson a message requesting that they meet. A feast of allusions musical, literary, and cinematic is the book's most entertaining aspect, and it speaks to the powerful currents flowing between artists and artworks across disciplines, as well as to the effect of art on its consumers. The name Mountain Tea, for example, comes from an obscure poem, while the work of Orson Welles is a touchstone throughout and Gibson writes in a coffeeshop called Swann's Way; the narrative itself is written in iambic pentameter. Guriel's bountiful celebration of connections between art finds an inspiring, infectious groove.
