The Folding Star by Alan Hollinghurst
The Weird of the White Wolf by Michael Moorcock
Hollinghurst's The Line of Beauty is one of the most important books of my life. So much so, I'm nervous about revisiting it and nervous about reading his earlier novels. What if they're of such an inferior quality as to retroactively lower his masterpiece in my esteem? I chose The Folding Star for our Queer Bookclub—I always choose novels, despite the protestations from my cohort—as this was an early Hollinghurst with which I wasn't familiar at all. The story of a tutor's infatuation with a student, this novel features much of the same hallmarks as his Booker Prize-winning classic: aesthete protagonist, sensitive, bitchy, educated and loquacious, learns more about himself and art through gay sex and interactions with the queer demimonde the novel depicts. Where The Line of Beauty was explicitly interested in dimensions of class, The Folding Star appears to be more intrigued by the dynamics of power. The main character and his student engage in a complicated seduction, though they each project their fantasies onto the other. In fact, much of this novel can be said to be about projecting, filling the other with desire as to overtake the subject completely. While a bit dense and bit long, The Folding Star is stupendously beautiful, achingly poignant, full of Hollinghurst's surgically precise language, exacting, demanding, but rewarding. Numerous times, I was close to tears just from the appreciation of his skill, his expert crafting of sentences, so beautiful as to be painful. While I didn't love this as much as The Line of Beauty, the novel rattled me—in the best way. A strong contender for best of the year.
I continue the saga of Elric with Moorcock's The Weird of the White Wolf , the third in the series, though I'm sure the chronology of publication and in-story timeline are exceedingly complicated. Like many genre "novels" of the 60s and 70s, this The Weird of the White Wolf is a "fix-up," a few short stories hitherto published separately edited to link together. Just as the previous one was a conglomeration of short stories, so to this third volume, and the seams definitely show; two of the sections have the same structure: a mysterious and sexy woman introduces a quest to depressed Elric, they depart for whatever it is they seek, some cruel twist of fate robs Elric of his prize, landing him in the same depressed circumstances as before. How much of the repetition can be ascribed to Moorcock and how much to the quest narrative is a murky proposition. It's an essential part of Elric's characterization to snatch things from his grasp just as soon as he achieves a goal. Moorcock's universe is almost nihilistic without stumbling into the Grimdark territory marring vast swathes of today's fantasy fiction. His imagining of the world is one of oppressive darkness but instead of political nihilism ("if everything is terrible and nothing ever works, why bother trying to improve society?"). The universe of Moorcock is one of philosophical nihilism, a distinct difference ("nothing has meaning and nothing has value"). Elric's quest for meaning is repeatedly thwarted; in the middle story of this book, Elric is tasked with searching for an ancient tome rumoured to answer great questions about gods and the universe's creation. He hopes to understand whether or not his existence is accidental. If purposeful, if he was created, then he knows meaning structures the universe. If a creation by chance, then he can find solace in knowing no order governs his universe. Unfortunately, or perhaps even fortunately depending on how you view it, the book crumbles the dust the moment he touches it, robbing Elric of his ability to satiate his thirst for meaning. He returns back to his previous circumstances, alone, depressed, morose, and still seeking some meaning. That he never finds any, or that whenever Moorcock reveals a power behind the curtain, he reveals yet another puppet's strings, speaks to the Elric saga's radical inversion of heroic tropes. Where previous heroes found their meaning through questing, such as Frodo's quest with the ring, Elric's quests never lead him anywhere but to destruction and despair. Anomie is the great spice of Moorcock's signature character. Each installment of this series makes me appreciate Moorcock's writing and command even more. Even though Elric is an altogether depressing creature, I'm utterly fascinated by how Moorcock teases him, prodding him along.