I was sorely disappointed with this one 鈥� with all the brouhaha around it, I thought I was missing out on another great classic. Now, there are some bI was sorely disappointed with this one 鈥� with all the brouhaha around it, I thought I was missing out on another great classic. Now, there are some bright, unconventional women of that era I absolutely adore 鈥� Emily Bronte for Wuthering Heights and Emily Dickinson for her lacerating poetry. Mary Shelley too had that aura around me with Frankenstein - a woman, in that era writing about a scientist who accidently reanimated a dead being, raising a monster who eventually caused his ruin.
Now, I鈥檓 a sucker for the horror traditions of gothic. My fault, I was expecting something scintillating, intense and murderously passionate as the gothic classic Wuthering Heights, one of my favorite novels of all-time. A tale of dark, bloody, relentless and cruel revenge and love that eschews convenient demarcations of good and evil, demolishing the mushy stereotypes of pining in unrequited love or the righteousness of delicate love over a blinding, jealous, all-consuming dark passion.
And so much of that expectations rested on Frankenstein鈥檚 shoulders 鈥� academically hailed as the first proper SF novel 鈥� written by a woman, and in her quite repressive era 鈥� the gothic ambience 鈥� murders 鈥� science and ethics 鈥� humans and monsters - and all in that lyrical, musical cadence of Victorian English.
Sadly, I couldn鈥檛 root for anything in the work. The most irksome part was the narration 鈥� it was so disengaged with the story, it made no impression whatsoever. It was disinterested in tone, even when there were scenes where Victor grappled with the ethics of reinstating the dead and the nature of revenge. When I鈥檇 imagined the monster鈥檚 account to be truly moving, akin to Heathcliff鈥檚, I found I just wasn鈥檛 interested in knowing a melodramatic tale of sadness. The spectre of horror fails to evoke any fright either.
In many ways, it is a very conventional novel, with its themes (family, nature/nurture, morality, theology, etc.) and characterization of that classic 19th century angst of righteousness. I suspect it might not have been much remembered today had it not been universally acclaimed as the first SF novel (English). Which brings me to the issue whether it really is SF enough or not 鈥� it鈥檚 a rather tricky thing here.
It鈥檚 based in science (surgery) loose enough not to merit it any better plausibility than Wells鈥� time-machine. Strictly academically speaking, it is better situated in proto-sf, since no pseudo-explanations are given regarding the procedure. Had Victor not been depicted as a scientist, there is nothing about it that would qualify it within the realm of science, and it would conveniently fall within the supernatural genre.
I guess by virtue of blurred lines, it comfortably sits within the common shaded are of the Venn of gothic, the philosophical and SF. At best, it is for those who enjoy light-hearted horror, something that pretends to be a monster without really frightening you. A pet monster.
And I was so bored with this book I didn鈥檛 even enjoy reviewing it 鈥� I suppose that鈥檚 evident too. ...more
This is a wonderful, dreamy book with short accounts of traditional British festivals (no longer celebrated) but which are an important part of the BrThis is a wonderful, dreamy book with short accounts of traditional British festivals (no longer celebrated) but which are an important part of the British heritage, with beautiful B/W large photographs around half-a-century old.
My favorite tradition is the 5th of November Gun Powder Plot "Guy Fawkes" day celebration - the book is vivid, informative, short and an easy read - but extremely interesting for those having no knowledge whatsoever about traditional customs in Britain apart from the much-popular and commercialized Christmas celebrations....more
In 1998, Peter Mortimer, in his 50s, decided to travel 500 kms through his home country Britain, but utterly penniless - a kind neighbor gifted him thIn 1998, Peter Mortimer, in his 50s, decided to travel 500 kms through his home country Britain, but utterly penniless - a kind neighbor gifted him their terrier to accompany him, and the seemingly short journey, carried on foot brought to him, as well the readers, a wealth of experience never to be gained otherwise.
It sheds light upon one crucial aspect of life - what it means to exist on the fringes of a society, in a state of destitution, where you have no shelter and do not know where your next meal will come from, if it ever will.
On the way, he encounters all kinds of people - the outright rude, the outright kind and generous, the suspecting yet kind.
It is a very heart-warming account, told with no needless grandiosity - there is a consistent light-hearted, humorous, yet compassionate vein throughout the narrative, making it a light, easy read, despite being filled with the uncertainty of the journey and desperate lack of funds....more
This is perhaps the dullest travelogue that I've ever read. Imagine cruising from London through Paris, Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, ThThis is perhaps the dullest travelogue that I've ever read. Imagine cruising from London through Paris, Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, Thailand, Japan, Siberia and back to London on nothing but trains for commute - long journeys punctuated with local food, local people, local culture and local weather - only to be bored to death while Theroux keeps on heaping loads of details without any insight save some common (sometimes aptly true) stereotypes.
Terse, dry and disinterested in tone, the book left me absolutely cold - series of abrupt, sketchy descriptions of peoples, places, anecdotes and observations that never go beyond a stereotypical crystallization of narrow experiences blended with the common perception held across the globe.
Essentially, Theroux said he wanted to travel by train, not by plane - so that he could leisurely enjoy the journey - my bad that I did not take it seriously. Clearly, he was focused on his journey - not in the people, hardly in the culture or history, maybe in some places of interest and basically, intent upon writing this travelogue. The result is the most pointless book ever written.
It seems hastily written with no nuances, no depth - just a string of experiences that put you to sleep.
The only place where he strikes a chord are in some cynical, sharp, bitter yet true observations that only a local can identify with - in my instance, observations such as "In India, I had decided, one could determine the sacredness of water by its degree of stagnation. The holiest was bright green."
But again, they were primary inferences that can be made by anyone who looks a bit closely at his/her encounters - but the mechanism behind these phenomena hold no interest for him. Perhaps he took too seriously the adage - "It is the journey that matters - not the destination."
The only lessons you get from this large book are (a)How not to travel, and (b)How not to write a travelogue....more
An immensely lucid, systematic book detailing the history of English literature right from Old English to Modern English - provides necessary backgrouAn immensely lucid, systematic book detailing the history of English literature right from Old English to Modern English - provides necessary background historical and cultural context to understand the trends of a particular era in terms of its literary output - as also discussing in brief but with immense clarity major authors and works of respective eras and a brief mention of minor authors and works.
A must-read for students, very useful for those interesting in tracing the growth of English literature....more
This anthology provides excerpts from important feminist works along with a brief account of their authors. These historical writings, some of them noThis anthology provides excerpts from important feminist works along with a brief account of their authors. These historical writings, some of them now brought out of obscurity, span the period from the 18th century to the 20th century 鈥� beginning with figures like Abigail Adams (who exhorted her influential husband John Adams to include laws proclaiming freedom and equality for women while he was one among the many legendary figures drafting The Declaration of Independence in 1776) and Mary Wollstonecraft (who penned the important The Vindication of the Rights of Woman in 1792), proceeding with strong but lone rebel figures in the 18th century such as the controversial trio of Fanny Wright, George Sand and Sarah Grimke amongst others to the 19th century era when slowly American women were becoming more aware of their subjugated status and were beginning to form an affinity amongst themselves under the influence of feminists like Frederick Douglass, Sojourner Truth and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, also mentioning in brief the results of these movements 鈥� the legal fruits that their patience and resistance bore.
Equally important were eminent men in the 19th and 20th century who were strong advocates of freedom and equality for women 鈥� John Stuart Mill, Henrik Ibsen, the Marxist Friedrich Engels, August Bebel and Thorstein Veblen who were remarkable supporters and enthusiasts for social reform in favor of women.
20th century themes feature next with excerpts from Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Emily James Putnam, the immensely controversial and significant women 鈥� Emma Goldman and Margaret Sanger, followed by Clara Zetkin鈥檚 interview with Lenin during the socialist USSR movement, Virginia Woolf鈥檚 A Room Of One鈥檚 Own and the conclusion of the book with an excerpt from Mary Ritter Beard鈥檚 writing.
What is notable about this anthology is that it is simultaneously a historical account and analysis of the women鈥檚 movement both from a literary/cultural as well as political point-of-view. Unlike other histories that focus brightly on political movements in the public eye that brought about changes while pushing important speeches/public addresses and literary/written works in the margins, this anthology traces the roots of the feminist movements, both in its written as well as performed forms 鈥� in essays, books, speeches as well as the confrontational movements such as militant feminism, which often entailed prison terms for women and forced feeding sanctioned by the state during fasts (civil disobedience covements) in protest and subsequent arrests, as also labor strikes in factories where women participated along with men for their rights.
These works of protestations bring to light not only the deplorable social circumstances that women faced at the times these works were written, but also the narrow legal frameworks to which women were subjected 鈥� frameworks that had dire economic and marital consequences for women and which were the same as those in rigidly patriarchal societies that we see in some nations today 鈥� and this history is barely a hundred years old, and reformed only through the dedicated efforts of women who cared not what the world thought of them, nor what their families would have to endure in social circles for the blasphemies they would be committing 鈥� indeed, these women were brazen in their quest for legal, social, individual and financial freedom 鈥� and equality as equal as imparted to the males. But for them, there would have been scarcely any difference between them and patriarchal frameworks in some countries in the present times.
It is not just a book chronicling the triumph of free-spirited women seeking equality with men in historical terms 鈥� but a tribute to the undying spirit of women who believe that conformation to the self鈥檚 conceptions of respect and freedom, to the conscience鈥檚 call for a radical upheaval in one鈥檚 own life is greater than the upholding of the social codes of morality and ethics 鈥� that personal ethics are a higher calling than social ethics 鈥� and that a woman鈥檚 duty to please herself are as important, and in fact, more important the her duty of pleasing her family and the society she lives in.
Far from providing a theoretical framework for the field of Women鈥檚 Studies, the anthology inspires women to stand up for their own beliefs for their own respect on their own terms in the light of these magnificent women鈥檚 struggles who cared neither for reputation nor approval save that came from their own consciences....more
A very short political tract by Swift in a lashing, satirical vein, the complete title of this tract is 'A Modest Proposal for Preventing the ChildrenA very short political tract by Swift in a lashing, satirical vein, the complete title of this tract is 'A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland From Being a Burden to Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Public'.
Published in 1729, an era when the British and the Irish were sworn enemies and when Ireland was reeling under a severe drought, Swift wrote this as an attempt to criticize heavily the British authorities who did nothing to stave off the plight of the Irish.
The essay exhorts the Irish to give birth to as many kids as possible, feed them properly and then, when they are at their juiciest best, to eat them - since there is no other way to survive the fatal dearth of food. Mistaken by the readers as a genuine suggestion, the tract was heavily criticized. Only later did people see its extreme satire directed at the British, that suggested that very soon, the Irish would have no way but to eat their own children to survive the famine.
A very rare piece of unmitigated, perhaps even venomous criticism, yet hilarious political-satire tract.
'The Modest Proposal' is anything but modest. And here's a few lines from it:
'I shall now therefore humbly propose my own thoughts, which I hope will not be liable to the least objection.
I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in London, that a young healthy child well nursed, is, at a year old, a most delicious nourishing and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricasie, or a ragoust.' ...more
My first brush with Blake was through the impeccable poem London more than a decade back. Since then, I'd got to read more poems of his, all carefullyMy first brush with Blake was through the impeccable poem London more than a decade back. Since then, I'd got to read more poems of his, all carefully chosen by the academicians, quickly putting him in my list of favorite poets. Then before I reached my twenties, I read this little collection, and liked it immensely.
Songs of Innocence was what I was looking for, with its na茂ve outlook on life, the idyllic pictures of innocence I was unwilling to leave behind on my trek to youth. I was enamored (and still am) by the introductory piece:
(view spoiler)[Piping down the valleys wild Piping songs of pleasant glee On a cloud I saw a child. And he laughing said to me.
Pipe a song about a Lamb; So I piped with merry chear, Piper pipe that song again鈥� So I piped, he wept to hear.
Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe Sing thy songs of happy chear, So I sung the same again While he wept with joy to hear.
Piper sit thee down and write In a book that all may read鈥� So he vanish'd from my sight. And I pluck'd a hollow reed.
And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear. (hide spoiler)]
To me, this was that drop of amnesiac honey that helped me get over the agony of the house-shifting we'd done that summer more than a decade ago, from a lush green safe township in the corner of the city to a closer-to-the-city, concrete-laden, greenery-starved, space-crunched area. It wasn't all that bad either, as I discovered later, but none of the former beauty of greeting the morning sun flanked by luxurious trees amidst the warbling of a dozen different birds remained. Suddenly, I was waking up to a harsh sun with no shady trees, and hardly any birds. Gone were the little gardens that every small home had. Now we had a larger home, with barely any space for even potted plants, let alone a garden.
So yeah, poets like Wordsworth and Blake with their lyrical beauty and pastoral happy images and bleak city images were very much resonant with me.
Now so many years later, while retaining my nostalgia for that magical place that had been my h(e)aven for many years, I am better capable of judging this collection from a newer perspective - one that has been shaped by reading many more poems since then, and has also gotten over the shift from innocence to experience, and values both equally.
The first section of the collection, Songs of Innocence, now seems to me too simplistic with little exquisite craftsmanship that Wordsworth or Coleridge or even Browning still retains for me. They sound more like little elementary rhyming structures instead of that breath-taking exhilaration I want when I expect nostalgia to sweep over me.
Only occasionally do I see those powerful streaks of thought, as in the little piece The Divine Image:
And all must love the human form, In heathen, Turk, or Jew; Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell There God is dwelling too.
Songs of Experience, however, fared better. There were glimmers of the pain that comes with experience, but also a sense of enlightenment that you wouldn't exchange for anything in the world, not even that former unblemished and profound innocence. But those bright powerful streaks ended soon, like a comet - blink-and-miss. I liked only 4 poems out of them all, but they are among those I often like to read frequently for their common-sense and quaint charm, such as 'Tyger', with its gripping structure and short lines,
Or The Clod and the Pebble:
Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.
or A Poison Tree, which was a simple but beautiful piece.
But London by far remains my favorite, and I quote it here in full:
I wander thro' each charter'd street, Near where the charter'd Thames does flow. And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice: in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
How the Chimney-sweepers cry Every blackning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls.
But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new-born Infant's tear And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
----------------------------------------------
Overall, I'm rather disappointed. Not only has a childhood favorite collection become a 3-star average affair now, but Blake, as a whole, has come a few steps down the tier. When I started over this book today, I'd expected to be blown over with brilliant images of innocence and experience, but the time has passed rather dully, but thankfully, briefly. The only saving grace is that I still love my old favorite pieces still, especially 'London'. Blake has become a little bleak for me now, but I still cherish the times he gave me, those little shiny lyrics that once upon a time brightened my moods with fond memories of a home I would never return to, of a garden that was no longer mine, of an innocence I was beginning to shed in favor of experience....more
An important sci-fi dystopia novel written in the 1940s, it deals with an imagined world called Oceania that rules its subjects through systematic braAn important sci-fi dystopia novel written in the 1940s, it deals with an imagined world called Oceania that rules its subjects through systematic brainwashing and ingenious methods of tracking and punishment. Far ahead of its time, it presents a chilling future that still doesn't seem implausible.
Trapped in a vicious society that watches over its members closely for signs of rebellion, the protagonist meets his fate as we are silently forced to read it.
Orwell, in this novel, has progressed far beyond the much-simplistic Animal Farm though they appeared only within a few years of each other. The chilling logic detailed by Orwell that hold this society together is more than convincing. His invention of the new language, Newspeak is far from ludicrous. It is very well possible given favorable circumstances to build a world like Oceania, and it is what a few countries have already built today. A relentless system that monitors closely an individual's leanings, alters past history, blocks the portals to outside knowledge or anything counter-productive to the state, training children to hold over their parents, brainwashing propaganda, torture for non-compliance - these are already happening in some nations to an appalling degree that we tend to ignore.
The logic on which Orwell builds his seemingly impossible world is actually very close to reality, hence all the more chilling.
The science part of SF is now obsolete - telescreens, hidden microphones are now passe, but given the time-frame when it was published, it can be argued that it is still sci-fi. Now, I read it more as a political/social dystopia than an SF dystopia.
Orwell's language is, thankfully, free of ornamentation that plagued early 20th century prose - his forthright style is well-intended, though it seems to miss the mark. For such a strong plot, the language was a letdown, though not completely. For me, language always has been a weak point in Orwell's works.
Despite that, 1984 is a superb work - timeless, highly original and highly relevant....more
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