As someone who does his best to keep up with small press releases in Canada, I hadn't heard of either the book or the writer, but glad both are on my radar now. I'd be curious to know what drew you to the book?
The author is Canadian but I believe the press is from Chicago, so that may be why. I was assigned the book as part of ROL’s “depot” project. That being said, I am interested in this sort of book, specifically the genre of “American abroad” or in this case, Canadian abroad, and some of my favourite authors fall into this category (Henry James, James Baldwin, Patricia Highsmith with the Ripley books). In this case, the elements were there, but I felt like the author didn’t quite pull it off. I’d be interested in your take if you give it a read.
Makes sense man. I had the feeling the autobiographical was what caught your eye. I’ll try and get around to it… also I’m intrigued that it’s the first part of a trilogy? Will be interesting to learn how this first book fits with the rest—getting ahead of myself though as I’ve only read your review.
With all due respect, Derek—and keeping in mind that David LeBrun is a friend, although one I made only after first admiring his work—“stereotypical and clichéd” lands hard in your opening paragraph. Almost every literary memoir can be reduced to a 'cliché': overcoming marginalization, addiction, illness, etc. In my opinion, what sets memoirs apart is not content, but the voice which sings out from what goes unmentioned. You take LeBrun to task for not delving into his literary influences. To me, leaving them out says more—that the 26-year-old LeBrun didn’t know what he was doing. You wish the book had more delirium, but LeBrun is lost the whole way through it. You praise his single nod to politics, as if that were a redeeming point. Some writers—wisely, I would say—don’t think about making political or class statements. They just tell what happened to them. You seem to question Lebrun’s decision to just let himself get led along, but that’s the point of the journey LeBrun describes: stepping into the abyss to find distraction until distraction is replaced by depression. And, are you mocking the one sex scene in the book, or pulling it out of context so we can judge? I sense from your review that Delirium Vitae simply isn’t your kind of book. Fair enough: the voice doesn’t speak to you. I just want to make clear to readers that it pounded in my ears.
Thanks, John. We have different responses to the book, but you’re obviously well within your rights to defend it. I do feel that you’ve mischaracterized my review in a couple ways, however. When I say the book is about LeBrun’s time as a stereotypical and clichéd writer, I’m not saying the book is those things or that Lebrun is, I’m saying the character of David is in 2001. You seem to make the same point, and since the novel is in some ways a coming of age story, I’m not sure what the point of contention is. With regard to politics, I agree, fiction is not the place for moralizing or didactic political statements. I never said LeBrun did that; instead, I pointed out a scene where LeBrun shows certain political realities rather than telling us about them, which I think is one mark of a good writer. It’s up to us to interpret the meaning of these events, as it should be. I’m also using politics in a very broad sense here—the way power shapes individual lives, not in an abstract way, but in the concrete realities of life. As for other things, like the right amount of delirium, we do disagree.
Thanks for taking my comment in the spirit that it was written, Derek. I wonder if I mischaracterized your review, or if you mischaracterized the book. I invite readers to find out for themselves by reading Delirium Vitae. To me, LeBrun’s being a writer seemed almost incidental—just another way to show how lost he was: all those notebooks scribbled in, recording people to capture dialogue. He writes about his vocation with far more irony than earnestness. The clear allusion is to John Fante’s Arturo Bandini quartet. You say the LeBrun character rarely picks up a book. He clearly doesn’t have the peace of mind to read. It’s a book about a 20-year-old doing all he can to distract himself, and to run away from what he has to confront. You mention this in your review, of course, but as though THAT were incidental. If in your opening paragraph, you say the book “is about [LeBrun’s] … time as this stereotypical and clichéd writer,” and then write a lukewarm review, never mentioning that the book rises above cliché, then the ‘stereotypical and clichéd’ tag is going to stick. Perhaps that wasn’t your intention, but that was the impression it left on me. Anyway, as they say in Spanish, “Para gustos, los colores.”
The observation about the embedded editor's comments applying equally to the memoir itself is a clever catch. That kind of metafictional self-awareness could either feel too cute or genuinely earned, and it sounds like the reveiw is questioning which one it is here. It does make you wonder if leaving influences unnamed was actually a deliberate artistic choice or just an oversight.
I really appreciate the honesty in this review.
As someone who does his best to keep up with small press releases in Canada, I hadn't heard of either the book or the writer, but glad both are on my radar now. I'd be curious to know what drew you to the book?
The author is Canadian but I believe the press is from Chicago, so that may be why. I was assigned the book as part of ROL’s “depot” project. That being said, I am interested in this sort of book, specifically the genre of “American abroad” or in this case, Canadian abroad, and some of my favourite authors fall into this category (Henry James, James Baldwin, Patricia Highsmith with the Ripley books). In this case, the elements were there, but I felt like the author didn’t quite pull it off. I’d be interested in your take if you give it a read.
Makes sense man. I had the feeling the autobiographical was what caught your eye. I’ll try and get around to it… also I’m intrigued that it’s the first part of a trilogy? Will be interesting to learn how this first book fits with the rest—getting ahead of myself though as I’ve only read your review.
With all due respect, Derek—and keeping in mind that David LeBrun is a friend, although one I made only after first admiring his work—“stereotypical and clichéd” lands hard in your opening paragraph. Almost every literary memoir can be reduced to a 'cliché': overcoming marginalization, addiction, illness, etc. In my opinion, what sets memoirs apart is not content, but the voice which sings out from what goes unmentioned. You take LeBrun to task for not delving into his literary influences. To me, leaving them out says more—that the 26-year-old LeBrun didn’t know what he was doing. You wish the book had more delirium, but LeBrun is lost the whole way through it. You praise his single nod to politics, as if that were a redeeming point. Some writers—wisely, I would say—don’t think about making political or class statements. They just tell what happened to them. You seem to question Lebrun’s decision to just let himself get led along, but that’s the point of the journey LeBrun describes: stepping into the abyss to find distraction until distraction is replaced by depression. And, are you mocking the one sex scene in the book, or pulling it out of context so we can judge? I sense from your review that Delirium Vitae simply isn’t your kind of book. Fair enough: the voice doesn’t speak to you. I just want to make clear to readers that it pounded in my ears.
Thanks, John. We have different responses to the book, but you’re obviously well within your rights to defend it. I do feel that you’ve mischaracterized my review in a couple ways, however. When I say the book is about LeBrun’s time as a stereotypical and clichéd writer, I’m not saying the book is those things or that Lebrun is, I’m saying the character of David is in 2001. You seem to make the same point, and since the novel is in some ways a coming of age story, I’m not sure what the point of contention is. With regard to politics, I agree, fiction is not the place for moralizing or didactic political statements. I never said LeBrun did that; instead, I pointed out a scene where LeBrun shows certain political realities rather than telling us about them, which I think is one mark of a good writer. It’s up to us to interpret the meaning of these events, as it should be. I’m also using politics in a very broad sense here—the way power shapes individual lives, not in an abstract way, but in the concrete realities of life. As for other things, like the right amount of delirium, we do disagree.
Thanks for taking my comment in the spirit that it was written, Derek. I wonder if I mischaracterized your review, or if you mischaracterized the book. I invite readers to find out for themselves by reading Delirium Vitae. To me, LeBrun’s being a writer seemed almost incidental—just another way to show how lost he was: all those notebooks scribbled in, recording people to capture dialogue. He writes about his vocation with far more irony than earnestness. The clear allusion is to John Fante’s Arturo Bandini quartet. You say the LeBrun character rarely picks up a book. He clearly doesn’t have the peace of mind to read. It’s a book about a 20-year-old doing all he can to distract himself, and to run away from what he has to confront. You mention this in your review, of course, but as though THAT were incidental. If in your opening paragraph, you say the book “is about [LeBrun’s] … time as this stereotypical and clichéd writer,” and then write a lukewarm review, never mentioning that the book rises above cliché, then the ‘stereotypical and clichéd’ tag is going to stick. Perhaps that wasn’t your intention, but that was the impression it left on me. Anyway, as they say in Spanish, “Para gustos, los colores.”
The observation about the embedded editor's comments applying equally to the memoir itself is a clever catch. That kind of metafictional self-awareness could either feel too cute or genuinely earned, and it sounds like the reveiw is questioning which one it is here. It does make you wonder if leaving influences unnamed was actually a deliberate artistic choice or just an oversight.
What’s the point of spamming AI generated comments on every article in this corner of substack?