Books in Brief: Sergio de la Pava, Rose George, Simon Critchley and Jamieson Webster

Three new books you may have missed.

A Naked Singularity
Sergio De La Pava
A Naked Singularity was originally self-published by its author, a New York public defence lawyer, in 2008. The University of Chicago Press republished it in 2012 after a positive reaction online and slowly growing sales. Now, the book is front and centre in indie bookshop windows across Europe, bolstered by praise from critics who applaud De La Pava’s Pynchonian energy, inventiveness and hysterical cast of lawbreakers (and makers). The novel tells the story of Casi, a lawyer on the front line of America’s war on drugs, licking his wounds after his first defeat. The narrative takes the form of a slippery, disorganised projection of the New York justice system, a verbal descent into madness.
MacLehose Press, 864pp, £20 
 
Deep Sea and Foreign Going: Inside Shipping, the Invisible Industry that Brings You 90 Per Cent of Everything
Rose George
 
“Friday. No sensible sailor goes to sea on the day of the Crucifixion, or the journey will be followed by ill-will and malice.” The first two sentences of Rose George’s book prepare the reader for timetables, ships and superstition. It is a travelogue of sorts, written in clear, straightforward English, about the people, pirates and machinery that make up the modern maritime industry: a series of complex, ancient and solitary traditions hidden from most, but as vital to life as ever.
Portobello Books, 308pp, £14.99 
 
The Hamlet Doctrine: Knowing Too Much, Doing Nothing
Simon Critchley and Jamieson Webster
 
In her essay “On Being Ill”, Virginia Woolf said that “rashness” was essential for appreciating Shakespeare, whose work was heavily guarded by patrician literary critics. “Illness,” she wrote, “in its kingly sublimity, sweeps all that aside and leaves nothing but Shakespeare and oneself.” Critchley and Webster write about Hamlet in short, vitriolic chapters, proposing a series of darkly intelligent questions and asserting Ophelia’s place as the real hero of the play. It is an ode to the spirit of “rashness”.
Verso, 288pp, £14.99
Eyes down, look in: Book shoppers in Munich. Photograph: Getty Images.

Philip Maughan is a freelance writer in Berlin and a former Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 September 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Syria: The deadly stalemate

Show Hide image

Young and Promising is the next best new TV comedy about “struggling millennials”

It’s Norwegian, subtitled, gently funny and very honest.

You know things are bleak when every mainstream comedy derives its humour from just how fucked up it is to be young today. Girls, Broad City, Search Party, Insecure, Fleabag, Love, This Country, You’re The Worst... the list of on-screen women in their 20s “just doing their best to figure it all out” is endless.

Over on Channel 4 tonight, a new overgrown child of the genre debuts, albeit one with a slight difference. Young and Promising (or Unge Lovende) makes its way to mainstream UK TV from Norway’s NRK (the channel that brought us Skam, the best teen drama of the decade) as part of All 4’s Walter Presents programme, which offers a chance to experience shows from around the globe. It’s Norwegian, subtitled, gently funny and very honest.

Young and Promising is written by its lead actress, Siri Seljeseth, who plays Elise, an aspiring comedian based in LA who returns home to Oslo to renew her tourist visa. The show also follows her two best friends (played by Seljeseth’s real friends from the Nordic Institute of Stage and Studio): Nenne (Gine Cornelia Pedersen), a waitress and unpublished fiction writer, and Alex (Alexandra Gjerpen), who is at the crucial stages of auditions for the Norwegian National Academy of Theatre for the fourth year in a row. 

It’s Elise whom we see the most of in tonight’s opening double-bill, which follows her from LA to the US Embassy in Oslo as she tries to get back to California. In Norway, it watches her struggle to handle a relationship she had left hanging, with her ruggedly handsome best friend Anders, whom she slept with the night before she first left for LA. It’s her home life, however, that’s most intriguing: her domineering father has cheated on her nervous, psychoanalytic mother and is having a baby with another woman. Who? “I don’t think that is relevant in this situation,” he insists. “This won’t affect you in a greater extent.” 

Meanwhile, Nenne is rejecting male publishers who fetishise her work as a new cool feminist voice. She uses her waitressing job to her advantage, assisting a senior publisher suffering from alcohol-induced vomiting and diarrhea in order to call in a favour later. But it’s Alex who has the stand out plotline, with some of the most complex and moving scenes of the show. She is simultaneously the most ambitious and most disillusioned character, played at breaking point by Gjerpen. When, in a key audition, her male scene partner suddenly forces his hand between her thighs, she snaps, and spends the rest of the episode lurching between hot tears of guilt over losing the scene, and painful conversations with peers about “being in character”.

Young and Promising has drawn countless comparisons to Girls, as any new show about mid-20s creative women does, but it’s friendlier, less cinematic and more down to earth than much of that series. The laughs don’t hit as hard, but its lead characters are fundamentally much more likeable. If you’re a struggling millennial comedy addict, or searching for something to fill the Norwegian hole Skam left in your life, Young and Promising is for you.

Anna Leszkiewicz is a pop culture writer at the New Statesman.