Ironically, and against the clearly stated intent of the author, this book makes me want to visit a quaint English village; if it happens to be a quaiIronically, and against the clearly stated intent of the author, this book makes me want to visit a quaint English village; if it happens to be a quaint murder-village, then I find myself at least partially more prepared to deal with the consequences.
I mean...except for getting into a vigorous debate about the quality of their Earl Grey tea, what's the worse that can happen?...more
Mr. Malcom Guite apparently writes a weekly column in a periodical entitled "Poet's Corner." I didn't know this when I got this book, so I naturally eMr. Malcom Guite apparently writes a weekly column in a periodical entitled "Poet's Corner." I didn't know this when I got this book, so I naturally expected a book full of poetry; while it did have a good amount of poetry, it will actually disappoint anyone who expects a book of poetry. In reality, because the book is simply a collection of various columns written in his "poet's corner" segment of the periodical, it comes across as rather repetitive from page to page.
Now, this is not to say it is "bad" per se, and in actual fact there are a number of beautiful passages and thoughts in this book; it simply makes the book drag on as though it was a much longer book than it actually is.
As you turn the pages, Malcolm Guite will bring you along on a new fragment of thought or a musing he happen to have. Imagine carrying a small notebook in your back pocket, and every time some thought or observation you consider interesting or profound comes across you write it down in your notebook... something like: As I was walking down the street the other day I saw a man wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt....it reminded me of death, and how we deal with it in our daily lives....in fact, I am indeed grateful for the Dead, as [insert poet's name] said, "Death is the final gratitude of life, and life the ultimate gratitude of death."
Now, of course that passage isn't an actual excerpt, simply some mumbo jumbo I just made up, but you get the idea of how the book is. Each turn of the page a new "that reminds me of..." all with an overarching intention of highlighting the "Heaven in Ordinary." Or, in other words, the small ordinary moments in our life when someone can see/think something extra-ordinary, if only they were a educated philosopher like Dr. Guite.
Great, now it sounds like I'm bashing Malcolm Guite, when in actual fact I have nothing but respect for him; *sigh.* This is why I'm still not a writer. Look, Malcolm Guite is clearly a humble, thoughtful, and extraordinarily kind man; however, some of these musings are great and as wonderful as he is, and other musing are just sort of....unnecessary or uninteresting. The format of the book creates something that takes way too long to read, as you want to put it down after each section, yet also causes you to pick it up because you're hungering for a profound poetic thought; sometimes you get what you want, and sometimes you don't. This leads to a rotating feeling of contentment and disappointment.
My suggestion for anyone interested in this book, is to take it with you on a walk; midway through your walk stop on a bench and take a break, light a pipe if that's something you do, or something equivalent, then take a moment and read a passage of this book; if the passages is unfulfilling, then read another one. Read until you get that "ah ha" moment, and then finish your walk. It might take you all year to read the book if you do it that way, but there is worth to be had here, it will just require you to incorporate this book into a routine.
What I personally started to do, was put this book in my car; every time I had to wait in my car (e.g. waiting for the train, waiting in my car for my work shift to start, or wife to run into the store)... instead of grabbing my phone, I grabbed this book and read a passage. I found it to be most rewarding in that way, and if you incorporate the book into a routine I believe you will find it rewarding as well. ...more
As I'm writing this review, I am sipping slowly on a glass of Ardbeg Uigeadail; certainly not the highest of top shelf single-malt scotch, but still aAs I'm writing this review, I am sipping slowly on a glass of Ardbeg Uigeadail; certainly not the highest of top shelf single-malt scotch, but still absolutely exquisite. There is an extraordinary amount of complexity complete with smokiness and of course peat; lots of peat. This isn't a scotch you can really mix with anything and make a cocktail out of; it wouldn't produce an easy-going Old Fashioned, nor would it do too well in a Penicillin. When I first started enjoying whiskey, I hated this Scotch; it was too much, too overwhelming to my tastes, and seemed to pretend to be better than it actually was. You can't fluff this scotch up, and make it easier to drink; you can't turn it into a party-whiskey, or appeal to a wider audience. It simply is what it is, and you either love it or you don't. Now that I'm older and have a few grey hairs floating around my head, I seem to simply love this whisky. This isn't to say that my tastes have improved, or are more "refined" now, or that what I drank in my 20s is somehow low quality. My pallet has simply changed, my temperament has changed, and what I'm looking for in a whisky has changed.
John le Carre, to me, is like this Ardbeg Uigeadail. 10 years ago, I would have absolutely hated this book, but now I love it. Anyone who dislikes this book for reasons including (but not limited to), long meandering passages of useless description, boring plots, unlikable characters, the unexciting portrait of espionage work, a rambling plotline and confusing storytelling style, and musings on the heart and human soul which border on literary masturbation...the person who has these gripes against this book are absolutely justified, and any opinion of theirs that they hate this book comes from a place of rationality and sense. ...I simply love it. I love being confused as to the sequence and timeline of the plot. I love forgetting which character is whom and what they do. I love the paragraphs and paragraphs in a row of the rambling musings of some character's head as they process information or remember something from the past. I love that the first real scene of "anything happening" took until 150 pages.
I love this book, and it is simply a matter of subjective taste of which chances are you will not share. This is my first John le Carre book, and when I want that long slog of acquired taste I will gladly pick up another one of his books. If you want a spy fiction that is full of car explosions, gunfire, or dramatic stake-outs, you will not find it here; if you want a spy novel that is full of long descriptions of the tedious nature of spy work, of how it ruins the spy's personal/family life, and of the mental health issues it brings upon those who engage in it, then perhaps John le Carre is for you....more
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