CDN$ 14.08
  • List Price: CDN$ 19.50
  • You Save: CDN$ 5.42 (28%)
FREE Shipping on orders over CDN$ 25.
Usually ships within 2 to 3 weeks.
Ships from and sold by Amazon.ca.
Gift-wrap available.
Quantity:1
Add to Cart
Have one to sell?
Flip to back Flip to front
Listen Playing... Paused   You're listening to a sample of the Audible audio edition.
Learn more
See all 2 images

This Is Not a Novel Paperback – Mar 1 2001


See all 2 formats and editions Hide other formats and editions
Amazon Price New from Used from
Paperback
"Please retry"
CDN$ 14.08
CDN$ 6.03 CDN$ 3.75

Join Amazon Student in Canada



Frequently Bought Together

Customers buy this book with House of Leaves: The Remastered Full-Color Edition CDN$ 17.33

This Is Not a Novel + House of Leaves: The Remastered Full-Color Edition
Price For Both: CDN$ 31.41

One of these items ships sooner than the other. Show details

  • This item: This Is Not a Novel

    Usually ships within 2 to 3 weeks.
    Ships from and sold by Amazon.ca.
    FREE Shipping on orders over CDN$ CDN$ 25. Details

  • House of Leaves: The Remastered Full-Color Edition

    In Stock.
    Ships from and sold by Amazon.ca.
    FREE Shipping on orders over CDN$ CDN$ 25. Details


Customers Who Viewed This Item Also Viewed

NO_CONTENT_IN_FEATURE

Product Details

  • Paperback: 208 pages
  • Publisher: Counterpoint (March 1 2001)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 1582431337
  • ISBN-13: 978-1582431338
  • Product Dimensions: 20.9 x 14.1 x 1.4 cm
  • Shipping Weight: 227 g
  • Average Customer Review: 3.6 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (10 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Bestsellers Rank: #180,316 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Customer Reviews

3.6 out of 5 stars
Share your thoughts with other customers

Most helpful customer reviews

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful By Alvaro Lewis on April 21 2003
Format: Paperback
One assumes that fans of David Markson's work will not be too disappointed by this latest book. I was not, though I admit I prefer his other writings to this. The book is structured as a sequence of sentences, often anecdotes describing the creative habits and deaths of an artistic pantheon. Sure, some will consider the book pretentious, but part of its glory is the effort of the writer, the central character, if any, who seems to be more of a reader, Markson, perhaps, and who puzzles and tries to be reconciled with his own impending mortality. Aside from the bounty of names, here and there an uncommon star appears, this book takes less cleverness to resolve into a thoughtful experience than other Markson books. Most dazzling, to be sure, is the variant structure of declarative sentences, often taken for granted. Some structures are continued repetitively, others, strikingly, challenge the rhythm the reader establishes. The sequences have the potential to mesmerize the patient and weary the rushed.
Out of all of the books, anecdotes, and sentences a character of sorts appears, who is not terribly interesting, nor completely capable of engaging the world without thinking through reading. The book is filled with curiosities that will jog to recollection details from a life spent reading. For some it is important to criticize what this book is not. Certainly, the style and approach to the writing of this book does not differ radically from the author's others. Perhaps this one is more refined. Perhaps it is repetitive and parodic. I prefer to recommend its observant and playful stories and structures that emerge from the sentences.
Was this review helpful to you? Yes No Sending feedback...
Thank you for your feedback. If this review is inappropriate, please let us know.
Sorry, we failed to record your vote. Please try again.
Format: Paperback
It was odd to read this, because of timing. I had just read Mark Salzman's _Lost In Place_, a memoir of his quixotic youth which addresses the human need to make a mark in the face of mortality and frailty, and the ultimate futility of that need. Then I pick up this. Same theme, just as overtly stated.
However, though this book is entertaining, erudite, and thought-provoking, it doesn't do the job nearly as well as Salzman's hilarious story. The conceit is ultimately pretentious, and its melancholy narrator isn't very interesting.
Was this review helpful to you? Yes No Sending feedback...
Thank you for your feedback. If this review is inappropriate, please let us know.
Sorry, we failed to record your vote. Please try again.
By David F. Long on Oct. 26 2003
Format: Paperback
Markson quotes a conversation between an unnamed critic and Picasso. Critic: You can actually draw so beautifully. Why do you spend all your time making these queer things? Picasso: That's why.
Some artists are driven to find a different way. The older I get and the more conventional stories I have under my belt, the more I crave the work of these artists, for whom the pursuit of strangeness is a powerful mandate. I don't mean the merely weird or ugly--I'm talking about doing something new, or else finding a way to uncover the oddness in ordinary life. Overfamiliarity with the world is suffocating.
THIS IS NOT A NOVEL is a sly book. It appears to be little more than a miscellany of notes from Markson's reading, mixed with a few stray thoughts on the nature of this book he's writing. By the third page we know that he wants it to be characterless and plotless, "yet seducing the reader into turning pages nonetheless." I, for one, turned the pages happily, borne along by the flow of anecdote. But gradually in became apparent that what I was reading, finally, was an odd meditation on the phrase "timor mortis conturbat me"--refrain line from a poem by William Dunbar, "Lament for the Makers" [15th C.] The fear of death disturbs me. This is a novel about a writer trying to shake of the chill of approaching death. A strangely moving work.
Was this review helpful to you? Yes No Sending feedback...
Thank you for your feedback. If this review is inappropriate, please let us know.
Sorry, we failed to record your vote. Please try again.
By A Customer on Oct. 5 2002
Format: Paperback
This reads like a companion volume to "Reader's Block." Like the former book, this is a compilation of often fascinating, curious and humanizing facts and quotations of great artists, writers, philosophers, indirectly limning the "author's" concerns with morality, health, and fame. Irrelevant to its enjoyment are considerations of (a)the amount of work entailed in creating it; (b)its nature as novel or anti-novel; (c)the degree to which all its entries are news ("Wagner was an anti-Semite" was not intended to enlighten the reader, but in that case to reflect the "author's" consciousness); (d) the degree to which the form of the book is ground-breaking. Perhaps because I am in a similar situation to the author's in my own career, I identified and found a wry humor in the proceedings, and a genuine modesty in the economy of its style. (Note: There is a bit of "dumbing down" here compared to "Reader's Block", as if Markson [at the bidding of his editor?] didn't quite trust his audience to figure out what he was about and had to spell it out in a few passages, but that can be easily enough overlooked.) For what it is--which is no less than what it attempts to be--it's a very interesting, instructive read, and well-nigh perfect: hence 5 stars.
Was this review helpful to you? Yes No Sending feedback...
Thank you for your feedback. If this review is inappropriate, please let us know.
Sorry, we failed to record your vote. Please try again.
Format: Paperback
In an interview published in an issue of The Review of Contemporary Fiction half-devoted to his work, David Markson explained the decade-long gaps in his oeuvre as "sheer barnyard laziness". That phrase came to haunt me as I whizzed through this shallow montage of high-culture trivia. (Typical paragraph, quoted in its entirety: "Richard Wagner was an anti-Semite." Got that?) I can't conceive of a lazier way to manufacture a book than Markson has come up with here. The impression is of a tired old scribbler (the author has been collecting Social Security for a while now) who still needs to think of himself as an artist, even though what little of the Divine Flame he once tended (his major effort was a pretentious melange of recycled Malcolm Lowry called "Going Down") sputtered out decades ago.
Was this review helpful to you? Yes No Sending feedback...
Thank you for your feedback. If this review is inappropriate, please let us know.
Sorry, we failed to record your vote. Please try again.

Product Images from Customers

Search


Feedback