She's not very well read and is cFor a very long time, I have been trying to persuade a good friend of mine to read The Ocean at the End of the Lane.
She's not very well read and is convinced that Twilight is the best book in existence. So we made a deal, she agreed to read my suggestion if I read hers. And something weird happened, I actually liked it!
Turns out she gave up on the Gaiman novel whilst I read this in one sitting. I don't consider myself a literary snob, I like to read a bit of everything, but I've always steered very clear of this one because it has a certain stigma attached to it. Everyone I know considers it trashy, but sometimes trashy can be a very good thing.
So I'm a little bit surprised. And I must say, the interaction taught me that we should always read the (so called) bad trashy books ourselves before we jump on the bandwagon in favour of its infamy.
Moral of the story: keep an open mind, always.
__________________________________
You can connect with me on social media via My Linktree. __________________________________...more
Here’s my list of Austen novels, from favourite to least favourite:
1. Persuasion- My favourite Austen! It is the shortest and the one with the mosHere’s my list of Austen novels, from favourite to least favourite:
1. Persuasion- My favourite Austen! It is the shortest and the one with the most enduring romance plot. And it is also the one where she attacks society with the most vigour. Not a word is wasted: it is compact and moves quickly.
“I hate to hear you talk about all women as if they were fine ladies instead of rational creatures. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives.”
[image]
2. Sense and Sensibility- Two protagonists for the price of one! I didn’t actually know how this one would end, which kept it interesting. The romances are usually quite predictable. Austen also explores ideas of the picturesque and how higher society often pretend to appreciate what they clearly don’t understand. A sharp piece of writing.
“The more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love. I require so much!”
[image]
3. Northanger Abbey- This was my first Austen. And I loved the way she defended the novel and reading throughout. Though she was an advocate of proper reading and not becoming disengaged from reality to the point where you think your life is a gothic romance. A very amusing read!
“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”
[image]
4. Pride and Prejudice- Austen is not interested in fleeting moments of heat and sexual lust; she portrays true and lasting romantic attachments, relationships that are strong and real. For her, such things transcend class boundaries, wealth and intelligence. And I enjoyed seeing the characters realise this.
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
[image]
5. Emma- Austen attacks society again very strongly here, though I think the novel lacked a real plot driver. It was saved in my estimation by a very compelling heroine who knew exactly what she wanted from life and sought after it. Emma isn’t a woman to be walked over.
“I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control. ”
[image]
6. Mansfield Park- What can I say? The only Austen I didn’t give five stars. It was just boring with an absent protagonist. I was glad to finish it.
“I was quiet, but I was not blind.”
[image]
What do you think? Do you agree with my list? I would love to hear other people's
The impossible happened! I read something by Jane Austen and I didn’t give it five stars! What is the world coming to? I don’t even know who I am anymThe impossible happened! I read something by Jane Austen and I didn’t give it five stars! What is the world coming to? I don’t even know who I am anymore.
Though this was awfully dull. Austen has never be renowned for her fast moving plots, so I know what to expect when I go into one of her novels. What makes her writing so compelling is the social commentary and the razor sharp wit. The woman holds nothing back! And she’s ever so subtle. Her characters are often caricatures and she exploits them to demonstrate the folly of regency society. A comment here, a sly remark there, and her narration sings a song of unrequited annoyance and anger all directed towards people who don’t realise how stupid they are.
So what happened here?
Normally the narration sides with the heroine. She’s often a bit naive and overcomes her initial prejudice or ignorance through the course of the plot. But here Fanny felt absent for a large part of it. She’s awkwardly quiet and distant within her own story. Granted, she’s pushed aside by the characters in the beginning because of her low both and correspondingly low social status compared to her highborn peers, though I still want to hear her voice every so often. At times I forgot she was even there. I think books always struggle when the protagonist is so shy.
I found her the most uncompelling of Austen protagonists as she seemed unwilling to act on her misfortune. Where was her fire? Where was her will to change her own fortunes? She just seemed to slip into the background, like a tree or a coat stand in a stage set: she was invisible. And she was clearly in love from the get go, but the man she was after clearly didn’t seem to notice the obvious and she just didn’t do anything about it. The romance felt weak. Fanny simply fell in love with the only man from high society who was ever kind to her.
The book was also terribly long, which is fine if the characters are engaging. But, again, Austen’s characters are anything but here. Endless conversation was followed by endless conversation in a drawn out piece that did not need to be so long-winded. The plot did not move quick enough, and it was terribly predictable. Maybe I’ve just grown tired of her storytelling. Modern critics pay particular attention to the mentions (or whispers) of slavery within the book, though I don’t think there’s much substance beyond the fact that we know it is actually happening and that it’s the cause of England’s wealth.
I consider Persuasion the absolute best example of Austen’s writing and, reassuringly so, it is also her shortest novel. As Shakespeare wrote, sometimes less is more.
2 stars because, despite it’s shortfalls, this is still Austen
The Fault in Our Stars is a clever little book because it normalises a tragic piece of life that is surprisingly underrepresented in fiction. It’s alsThe Fault in Our Stars is a clever little book because it normalises a tragic piece of life that is surprisingly underrepresented in fiction. It’s also funny, wise and heart-warming in a sad sort of way.
I’m not going to say too much about this one, only that it really is worth reading regardless of your age. It captures a piece of humanity that we all need to hear.
Word of warning though, it might make you cry....more
The Woman in White promises so much and delivers very little.
The first hundred pages of the book are gripping and intense. Wilkie Collins begins with The Woman in White promises so much and delivers very little.
The first hundred pages of the book are gripping and intense. Wilkie Collins begins with an atmospheric mystery that is exciting and almost haunting. I really wanted to know all the secrets the story had to offer.
So even when the book began to grow a little dull around the middle I carried on reading because I hoped that the dryness would be worth it, my patience was bound to be rewarded. (I was so terribly mistaken.) The big reveal at the end is so ridiculously anti-climactic that I actually laughed. That’s what I had been waiting for all this time?
For a book like this, one that is driven by the plot rather than the characters, it is such a major downfall. The real problem this story had is its pacing. There is simply too much middle where the story just doesn't go anywhere and the characters fret over the same facts but get no closer to understanding what any of it means. I grew bored of the endless speculation and marriage politics. I wanted something to happen beyond the seemingly endless conversation that held no substance.
And the entire situation was agony. It was just so frustrating! It simply did not need to happen whatsoever and was predictable to a fault. When you get into bed with a nasty person it’s hardly surprising that your life turns to shit; yet, for the characters it came as a drastic shock. Wake up! Look at the real world! Surely, surely, nobody would be that stupid?
I gave up caring. It was a relief to finish....more
Woolf did not write this book for her readers; she specifically wrote it for her close “friend” and fellow writer Vita Sackville-West. As such Woolf dWoolf did not write this book for her readers; she specifically wrote it for her close “friend” and fellow writer Vita Sackville-West. As such Woolf does things she would not normally do in her writing; it is not at all serious but instead takes on the form of a literary homage, homage to reading and writing. My case in point:
“For it would seem - her case proved it - that we write, not with the fingers, but with the whole person. The nerve which controls the pen winds itself about every fibre of our being, threads the heart, pierces the liver.”
“The taste for books was an early one. As a child he was sometimes found at midnight by a page still reading. They took his taper away, and he bred glow-worms to serve his purpose. They took the glow-worms away and he almost burnt the house down with a tinder.”
[image] -Tilda Swinton as Orlando in the 1992 film adaptation
More significantly, it was also homage to someone she loved quite dearly. I do wonder if originally she intended for this to be published; it is clearly a piece of writing that is very personal and addressed to one person. There are just so many emotions in this novel. The story begins with Orlando, a young man living in the Elizabethan age who is about to be transformed. The story also ends with Orlando, a woman writer living in the 20th century. The entire novel is a fictionalised history of Vita Sackville-West, of an imagined past life she lived under the guise of Orlando several centuries before she met Woolf.
Orlando had his heart broken at a very young age; it is shattered beyond repair as he is abandoned and left in ruins. Life must go on. He finds solace in reading and writing, tools he uses to escape from the horrors of reality. He begins with poetry; thus, finding an appropriate channel for his self-pity and woe begotten thoughts. He strives for fame, for literary acknowledgment, by perfecting his craft. If he fails, if the idealised writer fails, the thoughts of suicide and inferiority begin to dog his steps. I need not mention how Woolf met her own end, but this read like an early foreshadowing. It was haunting.
“By the truth we are undone. Life is a dream. 'Tis the waking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.”
And as such he attempts to push forward. Indeed, that much so he goes into womanhood. On a plot level it didn’t really make sense; it just kind of happened, though it did give Woolf a perfect opportunity to critique the nuances of gender roles within society. And it was described so beautifully. I can’t fault her for it. I can’t really fault the novel, only to say it lost a considerable amount of passion, energy and momentum once Orlando had changed his sex.
[image]
This is the weirdest, most imaginative, novel I’ve read in months. Despite the bizarreness of the plot, the wackiest thing about it is the fact that Virginia Woolf wrote it. I hated Mrs Dalloway. I count it among my least favourite novels in existence. I hate the way Woolf wrote it, why she wrote it and the literary style she tried to produce. Orlando made me rethink my opinion of Woolf entirely. I’ve read a lot of her non-fictional essays along with her literary criticisms of other 20th century writers. This, oddly, goes against much of what she advocated. She was a staunch supporter of realism within her writing, that much so she took efforts to make her plots less constructed so they mirrored real life: this is something else entirely.
So I’ve come to the conclusion that I didn’t really understand Woolf (perhaps I still don’t.) The pathway forward remains an obvious one: I simply must read everything she ever wrote in order to understand her better. Time to get busy....more
Money. It's all about the money. I mean, why else would you marry someone?
In Sense and Sensibility there are three major factors beyond the usual consMoney. It's all about the money. I mean, why else would you marry someone?
In Sense and Sensibility there are three major factors beyond the usual considerations of appearance, personality and character conduct when looking for a marriage in 19th century England. Indeed, what the Dashwood sisters look for- well Elinor really because she has more refined tastes and is far more discerning in regards to men- is a man’s opinion on literature and his understanding of natural beauty. What most people look for is far removed from the realms of sentiment: they just look for money. The Dashwood sisters are wiser:
“The more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love. I require so much!”
“.....If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.”
[image] And this is the problem with society, attaining money and keeping it, unfortunately, becomes the main signifier for someone’s worth. Austen, as per usual, is razor sharp with her wit here. There are so many ironic moments involving fortune hunters and extremely greedy (and selfish) relatives who only appear when they think there’s something to gain from their supposed loved ones. Everybody is so obsessed with money, more so than I’ve seen in a any other Austen. She always satirises the elites, though here most of them seem to seek the same thing with no regard for others.
I also loved the fact that there were two heroines opposed to one. Elinor and Marianne are very different people, and they interact with the world in very different ways, though they each have their values and their faults. Together, they help each other and look out for each other as sisters should. It’s a cruel world and it’s a hard world, though the Dashwood sisters have each other and their mother. They exemplify true family values which contrast against the self-involved (and rather moronic) approach of Sir John Dashwood.
This made me laugh:
[image]
He just loves money and seems unable, like many other characters, of finding new money. All their wealth comes from inheritance rather than actual incomes. They seem to have vast fortunes but don’t quite know how to add to them in an honest fashion. He is also completely controlled by his wife. At the start of the novel he seems so genuine but she twists him all too easily. Perhaps he loved her so much that he was willing to neglect his family or perhaps he was already on the verge of making such a harsh decision and she gave him the slightest of nudges to send him over. I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure.
The romances in here were more fickle and self-involved compared to her other novels. It’s one of the rare cases in fiction such as this where I was unaware who would actually end up with whom. But that’s just the nature of what Austen was trying to show here. It also made the reading experience far more entertaining. In Pride and Prejudice, Emma and even Persuasion it was so very clear how it would all end. This one, on the other hand, made things a little more lively.
And, of course, I could only ever give it five stars because of its subtle wit, eloquence of expression and sophisticated plot. How I do love Austen. I've just got Mansfield Park left to read now.
The Phantom’s greatest tragedy in life is the fact that he came so close to gaining the heart of the girl he loved, a sense of acceptance he has wanteThe Phantom’s greatest tragedy in life is the fact that he came so close to gaining the heart of the girl he loved, a sense of acceptance he has wanted for an entire lifetime, but because of his scarred and damaged soul he did nothing but terrify her; ultimately, shattering the initial allure and glamour she felt in his presence.
In the vein of Frankenstein and Heathcliff, Erik’s shattered visage, his ruined face, permeates his soul. Society, humanity, perceives his appearance as evil and twisted; thus, he takes on these traits in a cruel mockery of what is expected of him: he becomes the very thing he is branded as. And it becomes his most powerful weapon and it also becomes his downfall. He is beyond bitter. He is beyond twisted. His heart oozes with venom for a world that has always shunned him and left him an outcast in the darkness.
The Phantom of the Opera is a tragedy in every sense of the word. All the Phantom ever wanted was love and when he finally finds it, it practically destroys him. It pushes him out of the shadows and makes him bold; it makes him yearn for what he thought impossible. And he acts. He sees his chance, the very essence of what has brought his voice and his soul back to life is before him, and he seizes it albeit too forcefully. He becomes vicious, demanding and overwhelming. The loneliness of his soul dominates his faculties. He loses the cold, practical, cunning that has kept him alive for so long and follows the unthinking possessive whims of his heart.
"And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! All I wanted was to be loved for myself. If you loved me, I should be as gentle as a lamb; and you could do anything with me that you pleased."
[image]
Such words are uttered with the utmost truth and geniality. Erik comes forth into the light. In this moment he casts aside the guise of The Phantom and reveals his vulnerability and his ability to rejuvenate to Christine. He puts his heart out there, but like everything is his life love is illusory. In his misguided state he drastically misunderstands the situation and his erratic behaviour destroys any chance he ever could have had. His love has power, but he fails to understand that not everybody is as painfully desperate as he.
Leroux clearly loved opera houses and his phantom is beautifully dark concept. His descriptions of the theatre are vivid and verging on the enchanting. His prose is smooth and faultless, though his pacing is poor and the plot is weighed down with many non-essential characters that over complicate the situation. I love the story here, though the execution falls short of the faultlessness you would expect when you consider the sheer strength that surrounds the central plot and characters.
For me, the Phantom will always be better on the stage. The true pain of Erik’s soul pours out of the music and wrenches the hearts of the audience. The final scenes, the reality of the ending, place the story on the fringes of the modernist movement and show that romance is not always storybook despite how our hearts may yearn otherwise.
The Imperial training academy is an attractive place for naïve youngsters. For those that have never left their home-worlds, the magnificent space craThe Imperial training academy is an attractive place for naïve youngsters. For those that have never left their home-worlds, the magnificent space craft and disciplined soldiers look like a thing of wonder. They do not understand the harsh blood price the brutal Empire exacts; thus, Thane and Ciena are enamoured by the dreams of glory Tarkin gives them. They see the Empire as a machine, a mechanism of control, order and stability. And they want in.
“He and the girl ran inside, where everything was black and shiny and lit up with a hundred small lights. They were shown in the cockpit and even got to sit in the pilot’s seats. Grand Moff Tarkin stood just behind, rigid as a flagpole, his boots gleaming as brightly as the polished metal surrounding them.”
So they dedicate every moment of their young lives to prove that they are, indeed, worthy of getting in. Instead of playing like normal children, they dedicate their time in practice and training. In their ignorance, and their brainwashed state, they pursue a dream they do not fully comprehend. They succeed in the Empire, rising high above their peers and outshining other officers. They’ve known each other their entire lives, and they share a mutual love for the Empire. The attraction between the two is as natural as the stars, they fall in love.
However, such a thing is not permitted in the cold approach to ruling the Empire takes. They despise closeness and affection and try to drive a wedge between their members. In doing so doubts begin to form in the minds of the young couple. What is this thing they are serving that doesn’t allow for love? They are ready to get on with their duty when the Death Star approaches Alderan. It no secret what happens next: the Death Star fires and commits mass genocide. Evil is revealed at last.
The Rebel and the Imperial
“How many times had he said he’d stay in the Imperial Starfleet just so he’d get to fly the greatest ships in the galaxy? The words seemed so callow now. Juvenile, even.”
[image] [image] Thane wants out. Ciena does not. They find themselves on opposite sides of a brutal war that is about to erupt. They are both loyal to their causes, to Rebellion and Empire, but to each other even more so. The Galaxy seems a large place; they never expected to actually find each other in battle flying the enemies’ colours. Thane attempts to convince Ciena about the evil nature of Empire. She doesn’t want to listen; she can’t face the truth and is ready to fire on him. An impossible situation begins, one oozing with tension.
This was such a great idea for a Star Wars novel. The tone felt young adult at times, though it still worked surprisingly well. It’s certainly one of the better Star Wars books I’ve read. The story began during the time of A New Hope and ends slightly before The Force Awakens. Both characters are present for the destruction of the Death Star, the battle of Hoth and the annihilation of Vader and Palpatine’s fleet. The climax of the book even reveals the reason behind the derelict Star Destroyer we see on Jakku, an interesting easter egg for sure. It's definitely not a novel to be missed for Star Wars fans....more
Bertha Mason is the madwoman in the attic; she is the raving lunatic that is Rochester’s first wife in Jane Eyre,but have you ever stopped to wonder wBertha Mason is the madwoman in the attic; she is the raving lunatic that is Rochester’s first wife in Jane Eyre,but have you ever stopped to wonder what her side of the story is? Have you ever considered that she may have a tale to tell?
Jean Rhys has, and she tells it to you in all its traumatic colours. Our crazy lunatic isn’t that far from Jane. Bronte describes her as a semi-human, an animal that growls and raves as she stalks the hall of Thornfield like some unidentifiable spectre. But what drove her to this state? What made her this way? Well the simple answer is a man named Rochester. As the second son of a rich family, he needed a means of creating his own wealth. What's the answer to his problem? Marry some rich girl and steal all her money and not worry about the consequences, but there more to it than this. Do you remember that scene in Jane Eyre where Rochester tries to dominate Jane and make her into something else by picking out her clothes? Perhaps Bertha had this but on a more intense scale.
Indeed, Bertha isn’t even her real name. Rhys names the character Antoinette, a name Rochester refuses to use when he learns of her past. Antoinette has a family history of insanity on the maternal side, but, again there is more to it than this. What creates this insanity? For Antoinette it is the simple of act of belonging nowhere. She is a hybrid, a figure that walks between cultures. As a white European girl she was raised in Jamaica; thus, she is neither fully Jamaican nor European. This sounds very similar to the role of the governess, a figure that belonged to no particular class structure. Neither culture would accept Antoinette as one of their own, as she herself recognises:
“It was a song about a white cockroach. That’s me. That’s what they call all of us who were here before their own people in Africa sold them to the slave traders. And I’ve heard English woman call us white niggers. So between you I often wonder who I am and where is my country and where do I belong and why was I ever born at all.”
[image]
She is stuck in-between with an uncertain identity, so when this Rochester figure comes along proposing love she is swept away. Could she really be this happy? This man offers her hope and a new life, but it is all a lie. When she finds out it breaks her. The last bastion of refuge shatters and she realises her hate for this false man: she finds yet another place she doesn’t belong. Rochester takes his grief stricken wife home, and shoves her in an attic. Then BOOM! He finds himself utterly shocked at the manifestation of her madness. Such a fool.
We cannot blame Bronte for her depiction of Bertha. Bronte wrote during the peak of the British Empire; these ideas were imbedded into her cultural psyche: this is how the Victorians saw the world. Bronte was unconsciously aware of this; she even went as far as to apologise at a later date for her depiction of Bertha. She didn’t fully consider how it would be received. In her fixation with women’s rights in an unjust Western society, she failed to look beyond the realms of the English experience. But that is not to overlook the phenomenal achievements of Jane Eyre. It does wonders for recognising the voice of women; however, Jean Rhys just goes a little bit further.
Society, with all its restrictive constructs, is one nasty piece of work.
It comes with so many silly rules, so many silly expectations. Those of sociSociety, with all its restrictive constructs, is one nasty piece of work.
It comes with so many silly rules, so many silly expectations. Those of social station and wealth must be seen to marry someone of the same “worth” regardless of the feelings involved; they must be seen to marry someone on their level of class structure. But what of love? What of passion? Should it be quenched because of these all-encompassing silly constructs?
Austen doesn’t think so.
Enter Darcy, a man who is royally pissed off; he has fallen in love with someone considered far beneath him, to declare his love for her is to step outside the realms of his supposed pedigree: it is a form of social death. So he is a man torn in two. At the route of things, he is a product of his society; consequently, he is affected by its values. Although he hates it all the same; thus, the long sullen silences, the seemingly moody and arrogant exchanges with Elizabeth. But it’s all the expression of a man struggling to deal with the raging tempest of emotions that have taken hold of his mind: his being.
“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
[image]
Indeed, Austen slowly reveals the dangers of false perception as she gradually peels away the mask of this stoic pillar of aristocracy, and underneath blossoms a misunderstood and sensitive soul. So the romance plot is born. Elizabeth eventually loses her prejudice and sees through Darcy’s false pride. Darcy loses his integrated construct of prejudice and ignores the pride of his relatives. As ever with Austen, the title of the work is suggestive of the main motifs; she’s never subtle as its all ways clear which way her razor sharp sarcasm is pointed.
So love conquers all. Austen was a strong advocate of social mobility, and often it’s based upon love in her works. But she only believes in real love. She’s not interested in fleeting moments of heat and sexual lust; she portrays true and lasting romantic attachments, relationships that are strong and real. For her, such things transcend class boundaries, wealth and intelligence. Love is love. It doesn’t matter who it is with as long as it is real; hence, Austen becomes a critique of society and its customs that prevent these relationships from being realised. She knows how stupid it is, and she loves to poke fun of her caricatures of the old stilted class of her era: the ones that resist her ideas.
Is this the best Austen?
I did really enjoy this book, and I have given it five stars, but it’s not as good as her other works. For me it lacks the moral growth of Northanger Abbey and Emma.It lacks the conciseness of Persuasion. The emphasis on the injustice of romance has made it popular, though I do strongly believe that the love in Persuasion is stronger than it is here. That endures rejection, separation, war and decades; yet, it still lingers. I love Austen, and I have loved each one of her books I’ve read so far in different ways. I hope to continue to do so. This is the fourth Austen I’ve given five stars, I can easily celebrate her as one of my favourite writers.
__________________________________
You can connect with me on social media via My Linktree. __________________________________...more
I really don’t buy the irony. Here is a play by a very young Shakespeare trying to appeal to the masses; here is a play that purposely appeals to the I really don’t buy the irony. Here is a play by a very young Shakespeare trying to appeal to the masses; here is a play that purposely appeals to the misogynistic beliefs of its early audiences, and I really don’t like it.
This is what should have happened at the end:
Katherine:
I’m a Shrew; I’m a woman who stands up For herself and for her sisters alike I have a voice; I will not be tamed by Men who think themselves overlords!
Instead we have a rather meek speech in which a broken woman who has been deprived of sleep and food agrees to live under her husband’s thumb. Some may call this the comedy element, but I just can’t see it in that light. I didn’t find anything funny about the situation. Thankfully, Shakespeare learnt to do much better. ...more
I’ve been getting negligent in my reviews of these as of late. Only fourteen left to go! I’ve been reading through this lot for almost two years! I wiI’ve been getting negligent in my reviews of these as of late. Only fourteen left to go! I’ve been reading through this lot for almost two years! I will get through all eighty eventually, just wait and see. I’ll post a spectacular update celebrating the occasion. There might even be cake involved.
Well, anyway, on to the book in hand; it’s not a very good one, numbered amongst the lowest in my estimation in the collection. It’s hard to believe that this was actually written by Robert Louis Stevenson. I mean the man’s a literary genius. The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde is a phenomenal piece of literature. This, well, this was just dreadful. And not in the good sense of Victorian horror either; it’s not dreadfully spooky or dreadfully gothic: it’s just plain dreadful.
Why? Well it barely feels gothic. Yes you have some of the basic tropes, a dark castles and location, but there is no atmosphere in the writing. There is no level of intensity or expectation of what’s around the next corner. Instead we have a case of instant love. I’m not overly opposed to this because sometimes it does work when it’s handled well. Here, though, it just felt forced. There was no real emotion driving it. Where was the lonely longing that would force someone to love instantly? Where was the desperation and the sense of isolation? Nowhere.
Robert Louis Stevenson can write much better than this.
Penguin Little Black Classic- 19
[image]
The Little Black Classic Collection by penguin looks like it contains alot of hidden gems. I couldn’t help it; they looked so good that I went and bought them all. I shall post a short review after reading each one. No doubt it will take me several months to get through all of them! Hopefully I will find some classic authors, from across the ages, that I may not have come across had I not bought this collection. ...more
I think the best way of approaching this book is to look at is a learning curve for the author. The prose in Jane Eyre is sophisticated and eloquentI think the best way of approaching this book is to look at is a learning curve for the author. The prose in Jane Eyre is sophisticated and eloquent; it is developed and persuasive: it is powerful, and a points simply beautiful. Charlotte’s writing in this just isn’t at the same level.
Perhaps it is because she writes from the perspective of male, a rather bland one at that. The point is there is little point to this book. Jane Eyre is rich in passion and argument. Charlotte was trying to make a point; she was trying to show her readership the corruptness of society and the failing of the governess role; she was trying to show how worthy women are and how the misogyny of the mid-nineteenth century chained up their faculties, and left them to rot in intellectual depravity. With the Professor we have a mundane little romance plot and that really is all.
There are no fiery exchanges of willpower and a mutual understanding of equal partnership on the basis of individuality. There is just simple, dry, love in all its ordinariness. And I don’t care for it. Where is the passion? Where is the soul’s persecution? Where is the mental haunting, the insane power of finding such a person you can be with on such a level? The story is weak, the writing is weak: the book is weak. This is best considered as an early attempt of writing by someone who would one day learn to write like a true artist.
It's only worth a read if you wish to track the author's literary progress. ...more
She’s just so fucking brilliant. That much so I found the need to swear. The sarcasm is just oozing out of her words.Austen paints a world of excess.
She’s just so fucking brilliant. That much so I found the need to swear. The sarcasm is just oozing out of her words. She doesn’t need to tell you her opinions of society: she shows them to you.
Simply put, Emma’s farther is a ridiculous prat. There’s no other word for it. He spends his day lounging around eating rich and expensive food and doesn’t bother to exercise his body or mental faculties. The thought of visiting his recently departed governess, a long-time family friend, is utterly deplorable. I mean, he can’t travel that far. She lives the great distance of half a mile away; thus, the only possibility is to hire a carriage. This is clearly the only feasible solution to the problem. He is self-indulgent and spoilt, and in this Austen ushers in the origins of her heroine.
[image]
Thankfully, Emma has a degree of sense. She is still a little spoilt; she still has a great deal to learn but she isn’t her farther. In addition, the departure of her governess is an agreeable experience. She has empathy. Whilst she misses her friend and her teacher, she is genuinely happy for her. Unlike her farther, seeing her friend enter a love filled marriage is an occasion for joy and celebration even if she dearly misses her company. So from very early on, Austen’s heroine is characterised as spoilt, her upbringing demands it so, but she is not without sense or a full awakening: she clearly has the capabilities of leading a successful life rather than one that resembles the useless vegetable state of her farther. She is a strong woman.
She spends her days helping her new friend Harriet; she endeavours to find her the perfect husband, and sets about trying to improve her character. But through this, and her own naivety, Emma never considers her own youth, and that she, too, is in need of some degree of improvement. Thus sweeps in the straight shooter, the frank speaking, Mr Knightley. Emma has many reading lists (who doesn’t?) but she never bothers to complete them; she never finishes her own schedule: her own plans. She considers herself a true authority on marriage, on matchmaking, but her experience, her credentials, come from one fluke partnership. Her young age breeds arrogant ignorance. Because she has created one healthy marriage, she immediately thinks she knows what love is about: she thinks she will succeed again. And as a result she makes a series of terrible mistakes. Ones Mr Knightley is only too generous to point out.
And this is Emma’s learning curve. Such irony!
“Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing; but I have never been in love ; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall.”
[image]
Through the course of the plot she truly discovers herself. Austen’s heroines are frequently deluded, and Emma is deluded by her own will. She has no idea what love is, and in her well-meant advice, she frequently mistakes simple things such as gratitude and simple kindness as romantic interest. Austen being the wonderfully comic writer that she is, exploits this silly little misconception for the entire plot. Emma does finally get over herself. By the end she understands the feelings that are ready to burst forth from her own chest. Emma’s excess is her indulgence in her own opinion; she naively believes herself experienced when in reality she is juvenile, arrogant, self-absorbed, but full of real potential as a human being: she can do some good in this world and live for others. What she needed to do, and what Mr Knightly so desperately wanted to see, was for her to grow up. And she does: happiness reigns supreme.
“Men of sense, whatever you may choose to say, do not want silly wives.”
I gave this five stars, but is it as enjoyable as other Austen’s?
Simply put, it’s not. This lacked a plot driver. This wasn’t heading towards a clear and well defined fulfilment or resolution. I would certainly, and whole-heartedly, only recommend reading this one if you already enjoy Austen’s style. Whilst this does display Austen’s rapier wit in full force, the lack of narrative progress will scare most readers away. This has a great deal going for it, though it is terribly slow at points. If you’re not already an Austen lover, you should go read something else. For me though, I’m going to finally being reading Pride and Prejudice soon. It will be very interesting to compare it to Persuasion and see which is the best....more
This is a review I never imagined I’d write. This is a book I was convinced I’d love. I just have to face the facts, Emily is no Charlotte.
I’m going tThis is a review I never imagined I’d write. This is a book I was convinced I’d love. I just have to face the facts, Emily is no Charlotte.
I’m going to start with the positives. The characterisation of Heathcliff is incredibly strong. He is a man who is utterly tormented by the world. As a gypsy boy he is dark skinned and dark haired, and to the English this rough, almost wild, look makes him a ruffian. He stands up for himself, and bites back; thus, he is termed a monster. In a very, very, Frankenstein’s monster like sense, his perceived outer image begins to permeate his soul. Call a man a monster, and eventually he may start acting like one.
“He’s not a rough diamond - a pearl-containing oyster of a rustic; he’s a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man.”
He is a very complex man, capable of great cruelty and kindness. The world has made him bitter, and in a way ruined him. He reaps revenge, but revenge always ends the same way; it doesn’t solve problems but creates more. So he becomes even more tormented, this time by his own actions. He is very Byronic, and by today’s standards a little bit of a bad boy. He has all the standard tropes of an anti-hero, one that becomes a figure that can be sympathised with and hated. He’s a very complex man.
The Bronte’s were directly affected by Byron’s poetry. Rochester is Charlotte’s portrayal of a similar, albeit less vengeful, character. Love is the key torment in both works. Heathcliff has been rejected, as Rochester cannot open his heart because of his secret wife. But, rather that overcome his personal loss, and subject the world to his dark and broody personality, Heathcliff actually seeks to do others harm. He is a very sensitive man when it comes to his own emotions, though he lacks any real empathy. He does not care that he is creating more pain for others. He spends his life spreading more hate into the world. His only redeeming quality is his love for Catherine, but that doesn’t excuse his tyranny. He knows how nasty he is:
"She abandoned [her home] under a delusion," he answered, "picturing in me a hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my chivalrous devotion. I can hardly regard her in the light of a rational creature, so obstinately has she persisted in forming a fabulous notion of my character and acting on the false impressions she cherished."
He's so self-centred:
[image]
So I rather like his character, well not like but appreciate the complexity, though the novel’s structure itself was abysmal. I have quite a few problems with the narrative.
Why is a servant telling us this story as she speaks to a visitor of her master’s house? Why are we hearing someone’s interpretation of the events rather than the events themselves? Why is it twenty years later in the form of an extremely long conversation? Why is the servant still actually working for Heathcliff? She would have left. Nobody would choose to work for such a man. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense. At times it felt like the credibility of the story was stretched to breaking point. Nelly (the servant) actually being in some of the scenes was almost laughable. Often it was followed by a terrible explanation attempting to justify her presence. It sounded very desperate to me.
This leads perfectly on to my next point. Half way through the story (the start of volume ii) we are told that the conversation has ended. We then hear the visitor’s description of the servant’s narrative about Heathcliff’s life. I mean seriously? So there are three layers of storytelling. Isn’t that completely unnecessary and overcomplicated? Why not just have Heathcliff tell the story or at the very least have the servant tell the story from start to finish in one story arc with no time shifts. For me, it felt like Emily wrote herself into a corner with her choice of narrative and desperately tried to write herself out of it to the point of ridiculousness. How much of the story can we believe? How much bias is in the narratives?
Then there was the dialogue overloads. Large parts of the novel were entirely conversational. The narration was minimalistic and bare. The only character whose thoughts we were privy to, again Nelly the servant, was completely irrelevant to the plot. Who cares about the servant’s emotion and reactions? This isn’t her story; thus, the dialogue was packed out to the point of unnaturalness to fit in the thoughts of characters whose minds we weren’t privy to. Simply put, the characters said things people wouldn’t realistically say in conversation. It was overflowing with emotions and private thoughts. It was awkward. I’m not talking about private conversations, those don’t happen as Nelly is awkwardly present for every single event, but announcements or decisions (that should be internal) announced to a group of people. This is why plays have asides and soliloquies. And this is why novels aren’t told from the perspective of a random servant.
There is clearly a great story here. Plot wise the novel is wonderful. But the way in which Emily told her story was nothing short of disastrous. It felt like a wasted opportunity. I’m absolutely horrified at how poor it is. This novel needed to be taken apart, re-wrote, and put back together again. Perhaps then it would have been worthy of the story it failed to tell. I’ve never been so massively underwhelmed in such a blatant lack of skill in a canonised piece of literature, one that has immense critical reception.
___________________________________
You can connect with me on social media via My Linktree. __________________________________...more
Do you like fairy tales? Well Gaskell certainly did:
"To begin with the old rigmarole of childhood. In a country there was a shire, and in that shire tDo you like fairy tales? Well Gaskell certainly did:
"To begin with the old rigmarole of childhood. In a country there was a shire, and in that shire there was a town, and in that town there was a house, and in that house there was a room, and in that room there was a bed, and in that bed there lay a little girl; wide awake and longing to get up, but not daring to do so for fear of the unseen power in the next room - a certain Betty, whose slumbers must not be disturbed until six o'clock struck, when she wakened of herself 'as sure as clockwork', and left the household very little peace afterwards. It was a June morning, and early as it was, the room was full of sunny warmth and light.”
I do love a good Victorian novel. They’re plot driven and entertaining, sometimes even a little enchanting. They also depict the concerns of the age. At the heart of this a large social transition: the man of art, the man of poetry and romance, is being replaced by the new man of science, the new man of Darwinism and logic. Gaskell’s narrative suggests that the former is a dying breed; he is unsuccessful in the modernising world: he is outdated. Contrastingly, science prospers. Such can be seen with the Hamley brothers. Incidentally, Gaskell was a cousin of Darwin’s, and her acceptance of new thought can be seen: she clearly favours it.
Romance drove the plot forward; it was a powerful depiction of love that endures all the ridiculousness, and all the cunningness, of the other characters. But, it irked me how long it took the pair to realise it. Gaskell makes it painfully obvious to the reader that this pair should be together, and standard storytelling practically dictated that this is how the novel should end. The pair seems to be painfully unaware with what was in front of their faces for most of the story. Though I do suppose that was what Gaskell was going for; she wanted to anger the reader: she wanted to make them shout and rage about how these characters should be together. It annoyed me a little; these could have been together form the start and I wouldn’t have had to read 700+ pages of semi-dry narrative.
“.......he had never known her value, he thought, till now.”
[image]
And there’s the rub. (I’ve got to stop inserting Shakespeare quotes into reviews!) The novel was long winded. I mean it’s huge. I do like big novels. Sometimes a story is so long that it needs to be told properly. I get that, and I appreciate that. However, I found this to be awfully drawn out. There were so many scenes in which the characters had repetitive conversations and lamented over the same facts. There were so many parts that just didn’t add to the greater whole of the narrative. The story remained stationary for a long time. The wonderful Jane Austen (give her a round of applause please- she deserves it) can encompass so much more in so fewer words. Persuasion is a quarter of the length of this and that has so much more story than this, but it is told in the way it should be. Gaskell just droned on for much longer than her story was worth. It was a drag.
However, behind the book’s snail pace, drawn out plot, semi-mundane characters and the frustrating romance, there is a real deep exploration of Victorian society. The class systems, the complications, are very well illustrated. The problems of a patriarchal system that demands that women and men must exist in spate spheres are presented. Molly’s farther is taciturn and rigid, but he does, in his overly masculine way, love his daughter. In his naivety- perhaps not the best word, self-imposed restriction will work much better- he marries so his daughter can be taught and guided. He never even entertains the thought that perhaps he, as her farther, could deal with her himself. All she realistically needed was chaperone, he could have taught her himself. Indeed, his wife turns out to be a money grabbing shrew; she is a societal leech, and she almost ruins everything. Not a good match.
[image]
So in this, perhaps Gaskell suggests that these silly, silly, divides should be broken. Societies outward image is just something for the vain, things would work much better if men and women were less concerned with their “proper” places in society. This did have strong message, but it took far too many words to say it in even if the suggestions of fairy-tale were rather whimsical at the start.
There’s just so much going on in here; it’s like one massive explosion of Victorian anxieties.
Indeed, this novel speaks volumes about the time in whiThere’s just so much going on in here; it’s like one massive explosion of Victorian anxieties.
Indeed, this novel speaks volumes about the time in which it was written; it’s a late Victorian novel, and is deeply rooted in the genre of the Imperial Gothic. So, that means it was written when the empire was in its golden age, the effects of the “golden glow” of mid Victorianism lingered on. The economy was booming, British Imperialism was at its apex, but the Empire’s security was a constant doubt as fear began to permeate the high levels of success. Fear of a fall, fear that the colonised would fight back, fear of the new woman’s effect on the patriarchy and a fear that the Empire would degenerate and devolve. And this can be seen with the uncanny Gothic elements associated with the colonised other.
For me, this quote brings everything together:
“The terrible She had evidently made up her mind to go to England, and it made me absolutely shudder to think what would be the result of her arrival there. What her powers were I knew, and I could not doubt but that she would exercise them to the full. It might be possible to control her for a while, but her proud, ambitious spirit would be certain to break loose and avenge itself for the long centuries of its solitude. She would, if necessary, and if the power of her beauty did not unaided prove equal to the occasion, blast her way to any end she set before her, and, as she could not die, and for aught I knew could not even be killed, what was there to stop her? In the end she would, I had little doubt, assume absolute rule over the British dominions, and probably over the whole earth.”
[image]
Oh my, this is such a massively underrated novel. Stick with me; I’ve got a lot to say about this book’s brilliance. There will be spoilers a head.
Firstly, the quote confirms Victorian fears of the colonised fighting back. Ayesha (She) is in the heart of Africa in the midst of colonial rule. As with Stoker’s Dracula, the foreigner is associated with fear inducing Gothic elements. Ayesha is a supernatural being; Ayesha is immortal and has spent most of her existence in a dark and oppressive temple that lingers with the echoes of the dead; she exists almost exclusively in this gloomy sepulchre of decay and ruin. Indeed, it’s like she has been buried alive, hidden and forgotten by the world in her dark and ancient tomb; she has become an object of the uncanny and is suggestive of Freud’s idea of “the false semblance of the dead.”
The civilisation Ayesha is representing is one that is the exact opposite to Western life. Holly narrates it at as a land of barbarism, sacrifice and cannibalism: it is a land of the dark savage opposed to the supposed land of the rational west. Haggard creates an image of Africa that has undertones of the gothic, of the unusual, of the monstrous; that much so that it give Holly nightmares caused by “the sepulchral nature” of his surroundings. Ayesha, herself, embodies the threat of Africa as she is the ruler of such a people. This underpins the Victorian anxiety, which is often represented in fin-de-siècle fiction, of the colonised becoming the coloniser and the fall of Imperial rule to such a land.
However, the possible empowerment of the colonised in She is directly associated with gender. Ayesha is a woman. But, she is also a potential conquer, a leader and a Queen. Women are frequently compared to the colonised. Victorian womanhood is arguably a form of colonisation in which the women are forced to accept the culture of the men. The character Ayesha transgresses this; she is suggestive of the “New Woman” in the quote because she refutes the standards of a male dominated world; she even has the potential to supplant an entire patriarchal society with her dreams of Empire. Perhaps Haggard was reluctant to accept this idea (bad, bad Haggard!) as we’ll later see with the novels ending.
“Smaller she grew, and smaller yet, till she was no larger than a baboon.” Her age is brought upon her in one instant; she collapses, and Holly remarks “ here, too, lay the hideous little monkey frame, covered with crinkled yellow parchment, that once had been the glorious She. Alas! it was no hideous dream-it was an awful and unparalleled fact!
[image]
It is no coincidence that at the end of the novel Ayesha undergoes a physical metamorphosis. The novel is post Darwin, The Descent of Man was published in 1871, so the transformation is suggestive of a reversal of evolution. When attempting to renew her immortality, and to urge Holly and Leo to follow in her wake, Aysha reverses the magic: she devolves. When Ayesha, a woman who represents anxieties over a declining Empire, the empowerment of the new woman, and reverse colonisation collapses and devolves, her immortality spent, it brings all these anxieties together, and serves as a symbolic punishment for her transgressions.
Perhaps Haggard was a misogynist, despite depicting an empowered woman, Ayesha is brought down at the end of the novel to a very base state. Regardless of that (not that isn’t an important issue, though Haggard’s notion of womanhood is conflicting) the importance of this work resides in its depiction of Victorian fears, and in its ability to present them so superbly. This is an excellent book for study. I had so much fun reading it....more
I’m writing you this letter because you pissed me off. I’m angry, Tess. I’ve got a lot to say to you, and I want you toDear, Tess of the D’Urbervilles
I’m writing you this letter because you pissed me off. I’m angry, Tess. I’ve got a lot to say to you, and I want you to hear it. I will warn you though; I’m not holding anything back. We’re going to talk about everything, everything that happens in your life from beginning to end.
How could you be so silly? How could you be so hapless and so helpless? Why do you seem to be an ill-fated walking disaster of doom trodden woe? Why, oh why, did you never learn anything?
Tess you’re an absolute idiot. It’s okay. I understand. You were young and inexperienced in the beginning. But why were you still by the end? Your only act of courage was nothing but pure stupidity. It could only end one way after that. How could you not see Alec’s wolfish nature in the beginning? The man forced fed you fruit; he made you part your lips whilst he shoved his all too suggestive strawberry in your mouth. How could you not see the nature of such an imposing act?
Read over it Tess. See it from my point of view:
"They are already here." D'Urberville began gathering specimens of the fruit for her, handing them back to her as he stooped; and, presently, selecting a specially fine product of the "British Queen" variety, he stood up and held it by the stem to her mouth.
"No--no!" she said quickly, putting her fingers between his hand and her lips. "I would rather take it in my own hand."
"Nonsense!" he insisted; and in a slight distress she parted her lips and took it in.
How could you not see his motives? I understand that your mother didn’t teach you anything. Your parents threw you into the world and let you bare their burdens of responsibility. I understand that was a large task. But, still, how can you not see that this man was sniffing round you and only after one thing? Why didn’t you run? Why didn’t you get as far away as possible form such an insincere degenerate cur as Alec D’Urberville? After that, Tess, I just couldn’t believe in your character. I cannot believe that someone could possibly be as stupid as you Tess. I’m sorry Tess, but you were just badly written.
You just seemed a little bit too fatalistic. It’s like you’d given up on life before you’d even experienced it. You just went from disaster to disaster without realising that most men of your time were pigs. You didn’t learn anything; it’s like you were born with a pre-ordained destiny to take shit from everybody and then die. You just trudged through muck, and then went looking for more afterwards. If you’re characterisation is emblematic of Victorian womanhood, then every Victorian woman has been terrible insulted. I understand that the problems you faced were real. You came across real injustice, Tess. There’s no denying that. What Alec did to you was pure evil. What Angel did you was nothing short of neglect. One rule for men and another for women, eh Tess. You really experienced misogyny and injustice. I know, and I feel sorry for you, but Tess you were just so unbelievably weak.
Why did you go running back to Angel after what he did to you? He clearly didn't love you. Why did you wait for him for so long and just accept the negligence that he subjected you to. How could you let yourself down like that? You should have gone on your own and become your own woman; you should have become empowered rather than crawling back to the bastards that mistreated you. Your actions made no sense. Your emotions and love changed with the wind. I blame your creator Tess; I don’t think he knew quite what he wanted when he wrote you. He made a character who was a survivor with a will to keep trudging through life’s shit, but she kept going back to that shit again, and again. Rather than make you hopeless, he should have had you learn from the evils of the world, and become a woman who knew how to deal with it.
Then there’s the ending of your story, Tess. Why Stonehenge? Why did you run there of all places. Why not go to the train station? Why did you let yourself be led along by that prat Angel Clare one more time? Ahh…Tess, why did you waste your life? The men you met were assholes; your family were assholes too, so why didn’t you just get away from it all? Your most tragic mistake Tess, and your doom, was not realising what was inside you. Tess, only if you realised, only if the man who wrote you realised, that women don’t need to rely on men; then the whole tragedy would have been avoided. And I wouldn’t be writing this letter to a fictional corpse.
Sean Barrs
>
Books:
love-and-romance
(68)
Loading...
