It never even occurred to me that Beauty and the Beast was an original story in of itself, despite the fact that only about 5% of anything Disney haveIt never even occurred to me that Beauty and the Beast was an original story in of itself, despite the fact that only about 5% of anything Disney have made has been original and without basic inspiration, however tenuous that inspiration may be. The irony of this is not lost on anyone who has received a cease and desist letter from them whilst peddling their wares. But it seems I digress.
I find myself a little torn in the rating of this book. The review will focus on the 1740 fairytale first and then move on to the physical edition, which I think requires it's own review for various reasons.
First of all, the story. Having become disenchanted with Disney since their partnership with Pixar and the giant bug-eyes of their new characters (other reasons exist, but this one appears the most prevalent) I don't have any ties to their Beauty and the Beast as I never considered this a favourite in any case. However, I was, of course, entirely aware of their version and knew instantly how different this story was.
I shall refrain from too many comparisons between Disney film and the original fairytale, but there is little similar except the finding of love between the title characters. I was enamoured from the beginning: I thought the storytelling was beautiful and the atmosphere evocative and I enjoyed following the adventure of the Good Man and his sons and daughters, including Beauty herself.
By the end though, I was bored. It had become tedious and the storytelling was no longer good. Mid-way it became very repetitive as we followed Beauty around her new home and the recurrence of her dreams may have been a delight for her but for me they were abysmal repetitions of nonsense. I missed the splendour of the beginning and, though we had moments of strife, they were few and far between. And then we had a weird addendum at the end that stalled the whole thing as Fairies and Kings stood about telling long stories.
Whilst I loved the beginning, the ending really spoilt it for me. I don't think an abridged version of this tale would be a bad thing, though I will always give the benefit of doubt to any translation, though I also didn't feel this was a particular French tale, either.
The physical book itself I was extremely excited by. I care not that the illustrators had involvement with Harry Potter, but I own their other books and adore the covers and the elements inside. This one, however, was quite the disappointment. I'm marginally annoyed at how the interactive elements are made for right-handed people, but that's besides the point. They were fairly basic: lift a flap here, turn a wheel there. There was a book of Fairies that I thought would contain some wonderfully magical elements, but the inside was exactly the same as the cover. It was, in short, really rather pointless overall.
Interactive Elements aside, the illustrations were lovely, despite the fact that the Beast is the Disney version (the book notes the Beast has scales, not fur) but again, I am probably being picky. The whole experience was rather disappointing and, though it began magical and rather enchanting, both the story and the illustrations became all a little too tedious by the end. I cannot even bring myself to add an extra star for the illustrations or beautiful binding as I don't feel my enjoyment was caused by such.
What more can I say. It was so disappointing, but since I held no flame to this story my soul wasn't crushed. I actually still prefer this story to the Disney version, but maybe that's just my anti-big-company-bullying coming in to play. And how I hate those stupid big bug eyes....more
I get it. I do. Allegory, etc. Human condition, etc. Some lovely imagery, some lovely metaphors. But it just made me feel a bit underwhelmed. Maybe a I get it. I do. Allegory, etc. Human condition, etc. Some lovely imagery, some lovely metaphors. But it just made me feel a bit underwhelmed. Maybe a full review to follow. Maybe....more
From the Earth to the Moon was written almost 100 years before man finally stepped foot on the moon, a mixture of early sci-fi and adventure book thatFrom the Earth to the Moon was written almost 100 years before man finally stepped foot on the moon, a mixture of early sci-fi and adventure book that has truly imaginative elements alongside Jules Verne's very scientific mind.
In an America that is rather frightfully similar to its current state, gun enthusiasts find themselves at the end of the civil war without anything to shoot. The Baltimore Gun Club and its president, Impey Barbicane, decide that an altogether different approach to ballistics should be taken and undertake a mission to send a missile to the moon.
Inevitably, a Frenchman pops up and demands he man the missile, turning the un-manned mission in to a manned mission, and something that the whole country is captivated by.
Unparalleled in imagination, though rather lacking in some areas, Jules Verne's From the Earth to the Moon is an excellent read, especially considering the 1969 mission that actually occurred. It is a wonderful tale, though I think it relies far too heavily on what Verne was rather too fond of, and that's the scientific element. Many sci-fi writers fall foul of this and that's to add too much science and not enough fiction. Keeping the balance truly makes a "can't-possibly-happen" story turn in to a "wonderfully-imaginative-and-yet-might-actually-happen" story. Just as in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, we seem to be inundated with Verne's intelligence.
The characters are much of a muchness and his stereotypes are complete, if rather boring. From the Earth to the Moon is an important book in as much as for the time it was written, than for any other reason. But it is still a very interesting read, great fun to get through and really won't challenge you but will still make you think....more
"Is more than one pearl ever found in an oyster?" asked Conseil. "Yes, my boy. Some oysters are veritable jewel boxes. I've even read of an oyster-b"Is more than one pearl ever found in an oyster?" asked Conseil. "Yes, my boy. Some oysters are veritable jewel boxes. I've even read of an oyster-but I can hardly believe it-which contained no less than a hundred and fifty sharks." "A hundred and fifty sharks!" cried Ned Land. "Did I say sharks?" I cried. "I meant to say a hundred and fifty pearls. It wouldn't make sense to say sharks."
I always feel a bit weird reviewing a book that I haven't read in its native language. Translations are all very well, but the very soul of a book must always be lost when it comes to being turned in to English, unless, of course, the original author is the translator. Then it is not translation, just bad writing. But translations are odd things and, sadly, the only thing available to me and thus are all I can review.
In the case of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea it is a translation, but a mighty one. I was captivated from the start, with the magnificence of the descriptions, setting the scene, getting me excited about the whole ruddy adventure. I enjoyed Professor Aronnax and his very Passepartout-esque servant Conseil and their rather odd relationship. Ned Land was grand, if only for a laugh.
And then we got on Captain Nemo's submarine, the Nautilus, and two things happened. Captain Nemo was, honestly, pointless. He wasn't to be feared, or particularly enigmatic. He was just a bit of a lonely loser. He should have been explored more-not to the extent that the mystery was solved completely, but surely to a deeper level akin to what his submarine goes to. Captain Nemo was, in short, a huge disappointment. His so-called revenge on society is, quite frankly, pathetic, as well.
Secondly, we sink in to a deluge of classifications of fish and other marine life. Countless lists of the things Aronnax, Conseil and Ned see. Countless fish. I understand that the sea holds many of these, but to list them all is ridiculous. It felt like nothing but tedium and perhaps a little showy-showy.
I suppose an adventure that is trapped beneath the waves will have limitations in how quick the pace can go, but the very nature of the journey and the interim expeditions-whilst incredibly imaginative and very forward-thinking-tended to be slow and fairly lacklustre.
The whole thing petered out in a rather tremendous fashion. I feel slightly cheated by it, to tell the truth, as the start really had me engaged and mentally prepared to be taken on a fantastic journey. Instead, I just learned about latitude and classifications of fish....more
I have spent the last few weeks-ever since finishing War and Peace-reading Modern Classics, of which genre I am rather new to and not at all enjoying as much as others have lead me to believe I would, and I have never felt a love for Classic Literature so deep within my heart as I did when I finished reading The Count of Monte Cristo. I still retain a hope that a Modern Classic that I enjoy as much as I do pre-20th works will pop up somewhere, but I am thinking it is becoming an increasingly unlikely scenario.
The Count of Monte Cristo is a behemoth of French 19th Century Literature of a decidedly vengeful flavour. I have read very little French literature, having spent most of my time on the English variety, but this book still retains some very English-type Classic Literature qualities (I would presume the translation had a little to do with this) and read true to the Classical style. Descriptive yet punctual, with large amounts of dialogue that are not just diatribes or means to translate the plot to the reader.
Edmond Dantés is a poor unfortunate soul whom fate seems not to like as he is betrayed by men he has no reason to dislike-or so he thinks-and is thrown in to the Château d'If and the key is thrown thereafter (but in a different direction). Edmond Dantés-later the Count of Monte Cristo-is a most marvellous man, with many flaws, many perfections and many wonders. I enjoyed him immensely, as I did most of the characters. I find that women in Classic Literature are treated in varying ways, but Dumas has a kind of Dickensian way about his writing of women: they are not weak or placid or there only to be abused or looked at, but there again they are often very 19th Century in other ways. Very few people can make me feel a sympathy for the Upper Classes of society and Dumas appears to have done it.
Another side to Classic Literature that I love is the world-building. Whilst most of the land that we read about in these books still exist today, Classics evoke the true sense of how they were over a hundred years ago and I rarely feel that in other types of books. You can describe a place in Scotland for a Scottish Noir Crime Thriller as detailed and grimy as you want but I rarely get the sense of the place as a whole: Dumas truly evokes the destitute calmness of the Château d'If, of the spartan and isolated island of Monte Cristo and of the many luxurious abodes of the Count himself. I have not felt as transported with a book like I have with this one.
Of course, it was not without fault. I feel almost every single same emotion and opinion on The Count of Monte Cristo as I did with War and Peace and that includes the reasons for not giving a perfect rating. It was too long-it just was. There are plenty of long Classics ranging from 400-700 pages that are perfectly serviced by their Not-1000-Pages and I feel that's where this book fell short. This means that there are paragraphs, here and there-dotted about in no particular pattern-that are utterly tedious and don't contribute to the story very much, if at all. I cannot bring myself to ignore such moments of tedium, no matter how much I enjoy the story, the characters or the plot, because I know-and have read-books that are not this long but are just as well written.
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