Paul Bowles, the acclalmed author of
The Shelterlng Sky
, offers movlng, powerful, subtle, and fasclnatlng lnslghts lnto hls llfe, hls wrltlng, and hls world.
Paperback
,
400 pages
Published
October 31st 2006
by Harper Perennial
(first published 1972)
I first came across Paul Bowles' writing in the liner notes of that Bonnie 'Prince' Billy/Matt Sweeney record "Superwolf", wherein Bowles wrote of the societal effects of Alcohol and Cannabis (the former loosening an individual's inhibitions towards participation, the latter reinforcing those inhibitions and furthering isolationism), on Western nations and Eastern(particularly Islamic) nations.
I thought he was just some cracked-out hippy, self-fashioned cultural critic, amateur anthropologist,
I first came across Paul Bowles' writing in the liner notes of that Bonnie 'Prince' Billy/Matt Sweeney record "Superwolf", wherein Bowles wrote of the societal effects of Alcohol and Cannabis (the former loosening an individual's inhibitions towards participation, the latter reinforcing those inhibitions and furthering isolationism), on Western nations and Eastern(particularly Islamic) nations.
I thought he was just some cracked-out hippy, self-fashioned cultural critic, amateur anthropologist, yada yada yada, but he made a lot of sense so I picked up his autobiography
Without Stopping
and it blew me away. Primarily a film and musical score composer, Bowles travelled the world compulsively, at times with his life-long love, wife and author Jane Bowles, but mostly with various companions. It is interesting to see a life spent in the service of constant personal discovery and adventure. This book, aptly titled, doesn't stop as anecdote after anecdote makes you want to take stock of your own travel life, make some marks on a map, and get out there.
The most fascinating element of
Without Stopping
is the amount of namedropping that goes on. While Bowles was posted up in Morocco, his literary reputation and reputation for taking conscious expanding drugs, was growing, and he became something of a symbolic holy figure that Beats would pilgrimage to see, something Bowles admits, always confounded him. Apparently William S. Burroughs devised his InterZone idea while visiting with Bowles in Tangiers, and others who come up along Bowles travels include: Tennessee Williams, Jackson Pollock, Gertrude Stein, Francis Bacon, James Baldwin, Truman Capote, Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Susan Sontag, Lucchino Visconti and the epic Orson Welles.
It is also funny that in all of his far-off travels, he never stops working, and is usually in need of a piano to rent in these small villages and towns so he can compose. Not an easy task, but keeps him connected to some sort of American reality, which adds tons to his character and the depth of his lifelong adventure. (read: not just some bum who will "Walk The Earth, like Cain in Kung Fu)
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This book is only great if you are a Paul Bowles lover. The writing it good (of course) and the sentences are amazingly wry and pithy sometimes but he is not trying here for some outstanding work of autobiography. The narrative meanders and name-drops and lets you in on how and where he came about writing his greatest works. It is for that later point that I loved this book. Reading it on its own without having read Bowles would not probably be that great an experience but if you are already int
This book is only great if you are a Paul Bowles lover. The writing it good (of course) and the sentences are amazingly wry and pithy sometimes but he is not trying here for some outstanding work of autobiography. The narrative meanders and name-drops and lets you in on how and where he came about writing his greatest works. It is for that later point that I loved this book. Reading it on its own without having read Bowles would not probably be that great an experience but if you are already into this great writer/musician then this book will only add to your Bowles appreciation.
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Paul Bowles is an incredibly complex character. A composer who studied with Aaron Copland and was a close friend, (and with Henry Cowell, in the SF Bay Area)- an author, who was a contemporary and friend of Gertrude Stein, and as well, a friend and colleague of Kerouac, Corso, Burroughs, and Ginsberg. Not the least of his attraction, to me, was his time as resident expatriate-at-large and expert to the Rolling Stones glitterati set, encouched in fumes of hashish and plates of majoun, and, last b
Paul Bowles is an incredibly complex character. A composer who studied with Aaron Copland and was a close friend, (and with Henry Cowell, in the SF Bay Area)- an author, who was a contemporary and friend of Gertrude Stein, and as well, a friend and colleague of Kerouac, Corso, Burroughs, and Ginsberg. Not the least of his attraction, to me, was his time as resident expatriate-at-large and expert to the Rolling Stones glitterati set, encouched in fumes of hashish and plates of majoun, and, last but not least, an eminent field researcher of Moroccan ethnic music, responsible for bringing Brian Jones (thru Brion Gyson) to record the
Pipes of Pan at Joujouka
music... although this edition ends just before that period (about 1968).
Now all that said, it's rather amusing to learn that Bowles (and wife) were, for a couple of years, Stalinist apologists for the Communist Party USA. Even to the point of his taking hundreds "Muerte a Trotsky" posters down to Mexico to distribute amongst "the proletariat"... who knows how much
that
may have had with Trotsky's death, one is left to muse, since Bowles never mentions
that
. Americans who become Marxist and Communist lack a sense of humor since they're too busy murdering their class enemies to laugh at (or with) life. And besides, it
was
a dustbin philosophy as lame as fascism, yet, every bit just as attractive.
Well, what perhaps saves Bowles from ignominy as a Stalinist Commie on the wrong side at the wrong time, is that he writes damn good, succinct, interesting stories. His music, I've decided is pretty lame, tame, for the most part, but then again, his music itself was a product of its time. Even so, this is one writer who holds his own amongst all his contemporaries. I suppose we can place him close to Lawrence Durrell for his sage writing on the Mediterranean environment and culture.
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in "without stopping", paul bowles recounts the details of his extraordinary life like a man holding a garden-hose; looking down at the limp flow of water with as much enthusiasm as one has for giving a shrub a drink. he states: "writing an autobiography is an ungratifying occupation at best." he simply recalls his memories without aggrandizing.
the steady trickle of events is not without hilarious (though, still dead-panned) surprises: "during my childhood i had been good-natured and unusually
in "without stopping", paul bowles recounts the details of his extraordinary life like a man holding a garden-hose; looking down at the limp flow of water with as much enthusiasm as one has for giving a shrub a drink. he states: "writing an autobiography is an ungratifying occupation at best." he simply recalls his memories without aggrandizing.
the steady trickle of events is not without hilarious (though, still dead-panned) surprises: "during my childhood i had been good-natured and unusually tractable, but subject to occasional bursts of temper. as i grew more devious and circumspect, the rages ceased to occur. it was natural for me to assume that i would cease to be visited by them. thus, at the age of nineteen, i was astonished one night to discover that i had just thrown a meat knife at my father."
for my part, reading the recount, i was enthralled.
'without stopping' serves as a travelogue where each location is made exotic by its people; be they the colorful, encountered natives, or people who appear as acquaintances that have since graduated into the world-wide culture canon.
besides stoking my desire to see north africa, this book makes me wonder how famous the artists, musicians, and writers around me will someday become.
You can always find good bits in a good writer's writing memoir. Unfortunately, Bowles' autobiography spends more time between travel lists and gossipy paragraph-long anecdotes about all the famous writers and composers and artists he spent time with. Oddly tedious for a writer capable of the drugged out Moroccan cult scene in Let it Come Down. Still, I enjoyed his childhood recollections and bits like this scene with his wife, Jane:
In the spring we returned to Fez and stayed at the Belvedere. I
You can always find good bits in a good writer's writing memoir. Unfortunately, Bowles' autobiography spends more time between travel lists and gossipy paragraph-long anecdotes about all the famous writers and composers and artists he spent time with. Oddly tedious for a writer capable of the drugged out Moroccan cult scene in Let it Come Down. Still, I enjoyed his childhood recollections and bits like this scene with his wife, Jane:
In the spring we returned to Fez and stayed at the Belvedere. I was completing The Sheltering Sky, and Jane was deep into her novella Camp Cataract. At the break of day we would have breakfast in bed in Jane’s room. Then I would go into my own room, leaving the door open so that we could communicate if we wanted. At one point she had a terrible time with a bridge she was trying to build over a gorge. She would call out: “Bupple! What’s a cantilever, exactly?” or “Can you say a bridge has buttresses?” I, immersed in the writing of my final chapters, would answer anything that occurred to me, without coming out of my voluntary state of obsession. She would be quiet for a while, and then call out again. The rushing of the stream directly beneath our windows covered all but the most penetrating sounds; communications had to be fairly important to make it worthwhile shouting them. After three or four mornings I became aware that something was wrong: she was still at the bridge. I got up and went into her room. We talked for a while about the problem, and I confessed my mystification. “Why do you have to construct the damned thing?” I demanded. “Why can’t you just say it was there and let it go at that?” She shook her head. “If I don’t know how it was built, I can’t see it.”
This struck me as incredible. It never had occurred to me that such considerations could enter into the act of writing. Perhaps for the first time I had an inkling of what Jane meant when she remarked, as she often did, that writing was “so hard.” (pp. 286-7 / Chapter XIV)
Actually really disappointing. Don't know what to say, other than I guess I expected something more. It's interesting from a documentary perspective, but one of the maddening things about Bowles for me is the utter inaccessibility of his person, as opposed to his writing. I get almost no sense of him from the introductions to his novels, his stories, from interviews; I feel like he is a total enigma, off having some profound experience somewhere and telling me to fuck off. Maybe that's why I fin
Actually really disappointing. Don't know what to say, other than I guess I expected something more. It's interesting from a documentary perspective, but one of the maddening things about Bowles for me is the utter inaccessibility of his person, as opposed to his writing. I get almost no sense of him from the introductions to his novels, his stories, from interviews; I feel like he is a total enigma, off having some profound experience somewhere and telling me to fuck off. Maybe that's why I find his fiction so emotionally devastating. Well...whatever. This autobiography was disappointing for that reason; I just felt like there wasn't any soul to it. It seemed very much like he was writing this not because he wanted to, but because someone else had put him up to it. There was the same feeling to me about his book
Days A Tangier Diary
. WTFever, dude.
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I'm sorry I never read more of Bowles. I always admired his style, which is simple and cool, and when he's talking about places I'm interested in, like he does in this memoir, I can read right along. But I fear I was never much interested in the locations of his actual fiction. Maybe it's time to correct that.
I enjoyed reading about all the famous people with whom Bowles interacted. There's not much about the craft of writing in here, or deep reflections on life, nor any politics to speak of. But if you're down to find out which composer got so excited about a recording of his own music that he rolled around on the floor squealing with joy, this is the book for you!
Hugely disappointing. Except for his childhood, which is brillaintly recounted, Paul Bowles reveals nothing of himself and his affective life. THe book becomes a list of who's who of the time and more like a travel journal. I suppose, being a homo/bi-sexual, he wanted to hide his private life but it is a pity that he undertook to write an autobiography at all. His novels are much more revealing , particularly 'Let it all Come Down' and the Sheltering Sky.'
The lack of cover image here is notable. This is not an easy book to find. All copies have been stolen from the New York Public Library. I got a used copy off ebay. It's very cliche that Jane Bowles nicknamed this book "Without Telling" because Bowles never explains why these gentlemen are traveling with him to Sri Lanka and Bangkok and Morocco and New York. That does very little to detract from the book, in my opinion. Bowles went everywhere and met everyone.
Hmmm...I wrote a review for Sheltering Sky, and now I can't remember if I was thinking correctly about that, or if I was remembering this one instead. I think I liked them both, and my memory of them both is that slow, long, dry kind of read, but not such as making me want to put the book down...
Interesting period autobiography of a well-off early quasi counter cultural expat, who via a well connected family knew lots of fascinating people from New York to Paris to his adopted outpost in Tangier, before Morocco became fashionable.
William Burroughs said this book should have been called " Without Telling." In theory this should have been a gossip ridden book galore. But alas, not in Bowles style. Worth a read and then read one of his biographies.
Truth, fiction, self-serving, evasive -- William Burroughs thought it should have been called Without Telling -- who cares? When it is this entertaining and well written, nothing else seems to matter all that much.
Paul Bowles grew up in New York, and attended college at the University of Virginia before traveling to Paris, where became a part of Gertrude Stein's literary and artistic circle. Following her advice, he took his first trip to Tangiers in 1931 with his friend, composer Aaron Copeland.
In 1938 he married author and playwright Jane Auer (see:
Jane Bowles
). He moved to Tangiers permanently in 1947,
Paul Bowles grew up in New York, and attended college at the University of Virginia before traveling to Paris, where became a part of Gertrude Stein's literary and artistic circle. Following her advice, he took his first trip to Tangiers in 1931 with his friend, composer Aaron Copeland.
In 1938 he married author and playwright Jane Auer (see:
Jane Bowles
). He moved to Tangiers permanently in 1947, with Auer following him there in 1948. There they became fixtures of the American and European expatriate scene, their visitors including Truman Capote, Tennessee Williams and Gore Vidal. Bowles continued to live in Tangiers after the death of his wife in 1973.
Bowles died of heart failure in Tangier on November 18, 1999. His ashes were interred near the graves of his parents and grandparents in Lakemont, New York.
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“Although I knew enough Freud to believe that the sex urge was an important mainspring of life, it still seemed to me that any conscious manifestation of sex was necessarily ludicrous. Defecation and copulation were two activities which made a human being totally ridiculous. At least the former could be conducted in private, but the latter by definition demanded a partner. I discovered, though, that whenever I ventured this opinion, people took it as a joke.”
—
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