Reviews round-up

The critics’ verdicts on Peter Carey, George Dyson, and Judith R Walkowitz.

The Chemistry of Tears by Peter Carey

Writing in the Telegraph, Lucy Daniels is impressed by Paul Carey's deft treatment of the Victorian era. His 12th novel takes its inspiration from Jacques de Vaucanson's fraudulent invention of the mechanical duck and follows a modern-day conservator of London's Swinburne museum who becomes obsessed with recreating the duck from the original drawings, an allegory, says Daniels, for the author's craft as a historical novelist: "Carey is drawn to the age of invention; his stories are filled with them and exquisite forgeries. Storytellers and inventors have a natural bond: one character here is a collector of vicious fairy tales who has invented a washing machine. The novel itself, after all, is something mechanically produced." She praises the expert way in which Carey blends historical truths with myths, but notes that the book is more "subdued" in tone than the novelist's previous high-energy works.

Richard Davenport-Hines is less enthusiastic about the novel in the Spectator, questioning Carey's consistency: "There are first-rate scenes and characters from both narrations, but not invariably". Whilst some scenes delight, others are "drearier", he says. He too notices the "subdued" nature of the book in comparison to Carey's back-catalogue, but for him (unlike Daniels), this detracts from the overall narrative: "There are neat descriptions of lush German landscape, but none of the elating richness of Carey's spectacular Australia-based novels. Readers who revelled in his mid-life exuberance will find him at the age of 69 sombre and apprehensive".

"The Chemistry of Tears" will be reviewed in a forthcoming edition of the New Statesman.

Turing's Cathedral by George Dyson

George Dyson's attempt to throw light on the invention of the first computer is well received by Evgeny Morozov in the Observer. In 1945, polymath named John von Neumann helped set up the Electronic Computer Project at Princeton's Institute for Advanced Study, already a hotbed of scientific talent. Indeed, Morozov recommends that "Dyson's book is worth reading for its treatment of the institute's early history alone". A comprehensive account of the conditions under which von Neumann was working is provided, says Morozov, as Dyson gives "ample social and cultural context". Yet despite this, Morozov criticises the book for being weighed down with painstaking theoretical detail: according to Morozov, "Dyson ... bombards the reader with a mind-boggling stream of distracting information that adds little to his tale" and sometimes "makes mystical claims that no serious historian would endorse".

Writing in the Telegraph, Manjit Kumar also suggests that Dyson's work is swamped by technicality: "Faced with the tricky task of balancing technical details with keeping the narrative accessible for the non-computer buff, Dyson ends up probably not giving enough detail to satisfy the aficionado but too much for the lay reader." Nevertheless, Kumar is generally satisfied with the book: "Turing, Von Neumann and their colleagues may have let the genie out of the bottle, but Dyson has done the difficult job of reminding us of how much we owe them and how far we have come in such a short time".

Nights Out: Life in Cosmopolitan London by Judith R Walkowitz

In the Independent, DJ Taylor tempers his praise of Walkowitz's attempt to present a diverse array of Soho stories that typify the area's history, highlighting the significant case studies that have been missed out: "There is very little about the sex trade ... not a great deal about organised crime, and nothing at all about the area's long-term function as a kind of sub-branch of the literary world's ground-down Bohemian end". Although he concedes that "Walkowitz's forte ... is the case study and the Soho recreation that reflects some wider trend", Taylor is put off by Walkowitz's tendency to stray into "academic cipher": "Where she stops being informative and becomes unintentionally hilarious, on the other hand, is in her use of jargon".

In this week's New Statesman, Sarah Churchwell also picks holes in the book, noting that Walkowitz spends little time examining the area's queer history: "she by no means ignores the gay experience, but surely such a definitive aspect of the district's history should not be elbowing for space". She is, however, less critical of Walkowitz's language, claiming that her "scholarly lily-gilding is, happily, infrequent".

Peter Carey. Photo: Getty Images
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Marc Maron: a conversation with the anxiety co-pilot

Now that the interview-based podcast WTF has had millions of downloads and featured guests from Iggy Pop and Barack Obama, what does its host Marc Maron want to say?

Richard Pryor decided to talk about race. Sam Kinison used his fame and his family history to talk about God. Bill Hicks asked why nothing produced in America seemed quite worthy of the people who consumed it. Now that the intimate, interview-based podcast WTF has had millions of downloads on iTunes and has featured guests from Mel Brooks to Iggy Pop and, this summer, Barack Obama, what does its host, the comedian Marc Maron – adopter of stray cats, recovered addict and vinyl hoarder – feel he has to say?

“I think the type of conversations that I have on the show are something that is missing in our lives,” Maron told me one recent Friday, down the line from the garage in the garden of his home in Highland Park, Los Angeles, where WTF has been recorded twice a week since 2009. “We’ve lost the knowledge that it’s not that hard to have an hour-long conversation with someone. You’re built to carry whatever problems they have. I think it’s good for the heart.”

If the Maron family crest bore a motto, it might be that timeless adage: “Wherever you go, there you are.” Born in 1963, Maron was raised by a real-estate broker mother and an orthopaedic surgeon father, first in New Jersey, then in Alaska, then in Albuquerque, New Mexico. “My father is and was both an overactive hypochondriac and a physician,” he wrote in his 2013 memoir, Attempting Normal, “which is a bad combination.” After studying English at Boston University, he began performing stand-up comedy at the age of 24.

“I don’t think of myself as a joke guy,” he told me. “Most of what I do is creating a dialogue around my own problems. Some people call it ‘navel-gazing’ but I’d prefer to call it ‘compulsive self-awareness’.”

And there have been many problems. Maron, now 51, began his 2013 comedy special Thinky Pain by telling the audience in the basement of the Village Gate nightclub in New York that he didn’t “have a lot of respect for people that don’t have the courage to lose complete control of their life for a few years”.

When Maron was 35, unhappily married, hoovering up booze, weed and cocaine most evenings, he met a beautiful aspiring comedian 12 years his junior, who told him he looked dreadful and offered to help him get sober. And she did, more or less. He divorced his first wife and pinned his hopes on his second. By 2009, he was living on the US west coast, divorced for a second time, barely able to work and newly dismissed from the morning talk show he’d co-hosted on the left-leaning Air America radio network.

“It was a period where I needed to talk a lot,” he said, “but also to sort of re-engage with something I think I had practised as a child: being part of somebody else.” With the former Air America producer Brendan McDonald, Maron began recording conversations with comedian friends, seeking advice, delving into their lives. He asked stock questions, such as “What did your old man do?” and “Who were your guys?”, as if they might provide some clue to where he had gone wrong. Then people started to listen.

“I started getting emails saying somehow or other the dialogue with my guests, or my monologues, were making people feel better or getting them through dark times,” he said. “I never anticipated people would get that type of help from the show.”

In a recent episode with Ian McKellen, Maron explained to the British actor that his listeners were “sensitive, slightly aggravated, usually intelligent people”, not so much “a demographic, more of a disposition”. By 2010, WTF had attracted a cult following. Robin Williams came to the garage and talked about his depression. Maron’s fellow stand-up Todd Glass came out as gay on the show after a string of suicides among young LGBT people. Friends whom Maron had known throughout his career, including David Cross, Sarah Silverman and Bob Odenkirk, joined him to reminisce. His 2010 interview with Louis CK, arguably the best-known US comedian of recent years, was voted the greatest podcast episode ever by the online magazine Slate.

“Comedians in their infancy are generally selfish, irresponsible, emotionally retarded, morally dubious, substance-addicted animals who live out of boxes and milk crates,” Maron wrote in his memoir. Yet, as they mature, they can become “some of the most thoughtful, philosophical, open-minded . . . creative people in the world”.

“The best comics are people that have taken the chance to live a life independent of mainstream culture and expectations,” he told me. “They’re constantly looking for an angle on the information coming in. They write things down. It’s the life of a thinker, or a philosopher, or poet – however you want to put it.”

I suggested that poetry was an ideal analogy for comedy, not only because poets reframe reality in a truthful way but also because they can be savage and resentful, particularly to fellow poets. It’s a fact Maron openly concedes about himself.

“I’m the clown that thought Louis CK’s show Louie should be called F*** You, Marc Maron,” he said at the 2011 Just for Laughs Comedy Festival in Montreal. The episode of WTF with Louis CK, a friend since the late 1980s, is remarkable not only for the moment when CK becomes audibly emotional as he discusses the birth of his first child, but for the way in which he unflinchingly airs his grievances with Maron, who confesses to envying CK’s success so much that they lost contact for a time. “You were being a shitty friend by being jealous,” CK says. “I could’ve used you . . . I got divorced. I got a show cancelled. I could’ve used a friend.”

So, in 2015, with a TV series about his life on the IFC cable network concluding its third series, the widely discussed interview in which Obama opened up about parenting, gun control and racism in the US and a series of high-profile appearances in Dublin, London and Sydney booked to showcase new material, surely the glass at last looks half full? “Maybe,” he said. “There are some people whose ego is able to accept the love and adoration of an audience. I’ve always been one to question that.”

Yet the improvements to his life – recognition, financial security, reconciliation with old friends – are undeniable. “Most creative people move through a tremendous amount of insecurity, which can turn to hostility. But the podcast became socially relevant and some of the insecurities dissipated. I could accept myself, for the most part, and realise that all the hard work I’d done for half my life had manifested into something that connects with people.”

Maron’s biggest anxiety today, he explained at the end of our talk, before opening the garage door to face the day, is that he’s “swamped with work all the f***ing time”.

“I beat myself up feeling like I should be out in the world, seeing a play or some art or something. Often, when I do monologues, I think, ‘I’ve got nothing to talk about.’ But then I go on and talk about nothing.”

The truth is that Marc Maron isn’t Richard Pryor or Bill Hicks – but that’s OK. We live in a different time. Perhaps what listeners need most is not more opinions, but a little help getting out of their own way: a co-pilot to navigate the anxieties of living day to day. “That’s exactly right,” he said. “The little things.”

Marc Maron performs at the Southbank Centre, London SE1, on 3 and 4 September

Philip Maughan is Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 03 September 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Pope of the masses