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Notes from Hampstead: The Writer's Notes: 1954-1971
 
 
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Notes from Hampstead: The Writer's Notes: 1954-1971 [Hardcover]

Elias Canetti (Author), John Hargraves (Author)
5.0 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (2 customer reviews)


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Editorial Reviews

Amazon.com Review

Nobel Prize winner Elias Canetti kept this writer's journal from 1954 to 1971 while he was living in London and writing, among other things, Crowds and Power. It's a deliberately unstructured list of ideas and possibilities from which his thematic obsessions emerge only gradually.

Most entries are just a sentence or two in length, varying in quality from the obvious to the profound. Many take the tantalizing form of a fictional premise not followed through ("A country where everyone walks backwards, to keep an eye on themselves. A country where all turn their backs on one another: fear of eyes.") But the overall tone, as with his other writings, is more gnomically philosophical. A typical stand-alone entry reads, "There is something sickening about all advocacy: only pure admiration is real." --Richard Farr

From Publishers Weekly

Canetti is a meticulous writer, and in reading his notes, one can easily see him hovering over a just formed sentence, pencil in hand, wondering whether to cut or to add or to leave well enough alone. The period covered by the notes collected here concerns an important time in Canetti's life. His study of mass psychology, Crowds and Power, appeared in 1960; most of his plays were emerging for the first time; and the travelogue The Voices of Marrakesh and essay collection The Conscience of Words were published as well. Although Canetti's notes abound with oblique references to these works, they also manage to stand alone as exercises in phrasing and as attempts to find and fix his voice as a writer. Aphoristic, fragmentary, laconic, mildly humorous and often finicky, Canetti's "notes" are, depending on your taste, either diamonds in the rough or fool's gold. A sampling of the Nietzsche-like maxims gives some sense of what notes for a writer such as Canetti look like: "She speaks from the navel." "Word associations: only interesting if you leave out five of six connecting links." "To surround oneself with people in the summer?no war and everyone is alive. A summer in which not one person died. The happy man, piqued by vanity. Now he wants to read and be unhappy." Reading these notes is like looking through the workshop of a great craftsman: it is a conglomeration of tools, of mishaps and of yet-unfinished gems.
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Product Details

  • Hardcover: 217 pages
  • Publisher: Farrar Straus & Giroux (T); First Edition edition (February 1998)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0374223262
  • ISBN-13: 978-0374223267
  • Product Dimensions: 8.3 x 5.8 x 1 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 11.2 ounces
  • Average Customer Review: 5.0 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (2 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #171,469 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

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6 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars collection of genius, July 26, 1999
By A Customer
This review is from: Notes from Hampstead: The Writer's Notes: 1954-1971 (Hardcover)
I bought this book after reading only one notebook entry, browsing in the bookstore aisle. I have never regreted the decision.

It's a most fascinating and eclectic collection of thoughts and profound observations. I have never put the book down with the same vision as I picked it up.

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4 of 8 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars Canetti was a first-rate fragmentist, April 29, 2005
By 
Gooch McCracken (c/o your haunted slab of Velveeta) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Notes from Hampstead: The Writer's Notes: 1954-1971 (Hardcover)
Call it gebrauchlit. Canetti's fragments are far more useful than all of the artsy-fartsy fiction that's prioritized for some dumb reason. I bitterly resent the fact that literature is fic-centric.

Canetti: "The French: they sit down for dinner as if for life everlasting."

But there's one thing I detest about Canetti: his pious admiration for Chinese writers. Which strikes me as a crock of phony-baloney fake-piety. The Chinese are so shallow, they couldn't even come up with a practical alphabet.

Canetti: "How often one is quick to revive grudges against those one has injured. Sensing the injustice of what one is doing, one justifies it with a dormant grievance from the past."

There's a running hatred-of-death in Canett's stuff. Obviously because he's not altogether convinced of the existence of a heavenly afterlife: "I know that everything is changing, and because I feel the ineluctable coming of the new, I turn to the old wherever I can find it. It might be that I just want to save and preserve it because I can't bear the passing of anything. But it could also be that I am testing it, to use against death, still unbeaten."

Canetti hates the possibility of reincarnation and so do I: "Wouldn't recurrence be even sadder than disappearance?"

Saul Bellow (whom I otherwise detest) used to speak possessively of the dead. To Saul they were "my dead". And I couldn't help but notice that Canetti indulged in the same shtick: "P. revolted me when he spoke of his spiritualist seances; he is convinced of an afterlife and wants to offer me these experiences and introduce me into his circle. But to me, my dead are sacred; I don't wish to find them again in a circle of strangers."

Here's a hilarious Canetti line that's straight from Beckettland: "I was nothing but a will; now I am a sound."





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