After reading Twilight (so chaste) I was up for a bit of consummation and, having read this as a teenager and with no real memory of it other than theAfter reading Twilight (so chaste) I was up for a bit of consummation and, having read this as a teenager and with no real memory of it other than the odd lewd bit that stuck out, thought I'd give it another go and see if it resonated any more deeply now that I'm a little older and, ahem, wiser...
I really wish that I hadn't bothered, as this felt like a real chore. Maybe it was Connie's initial apathy that rubbed off on me, but the writing left me cold. It was incredibly repetitive and the descriptions all seemed a bit off. I lost count of the times I read sentences such as 'they were slack and thin, with a slack thinness to them', 'watching with a cold watchfulness', or 'he was impetuous and went about impetuously'...is it just me or is that a bit crap?
Much of the book was spent lamenting over pre-industrial England that had ceased to exist by the time of writing, eulogising the death of 'real men', or sneering at the characters for some aspect of their class (whether upper or working class, Lawrence seems to feel contempt for pretty much all of them). The infamous sex scenes were all strangely detached and impersonal, with no real intimacy or sensuality, and even by the end of the book I failed to see any real love between Connie and Mellors.
The only thing I was left with was an abiding sense of Lawrence really disliking women - they're fishwives, gossips or blanks, (even Connie, despite Lawrence somehow seeing her as intelligent and spirited, seems mostly vacant a lot of the time - and Mellors seems to love her mainly for her arse and fanny) and some of the statements that are put into the mouths of various characters on women were more shocking to me than the fucking. Women who don't enjoy sex are hated, women who do enjoy it are despised. But then, it seems overall that this book wasn't even really about sex between a couple anyway, but in large an ode to the cock. I just thought it was bollocks....more
When I first opened the pages of The Unbearable Lightness of Being and saw a philosophical consideration of Nietzsche’s theory of eternal return waitiWhen I first opened the pages of The Unbearable Lightness of Being and saw a philosophical consideration of Nietzsche’s theory of eternal return waiting to greet me, my heart sank, thinking I was about to wade through 300 pages of the same. Thankfully, this turned out not to be entirely the case.
Following the story of Tomas and Tereza � he a surgeon who can’t keep his dick out of other women (or his hair, which often smells of the female genitals with whom he’s indulged in a spot of extra-curricular rubbing) and she an occasional waitress/photographer tormented by the jealous dreams his infidelities inspire, set against a backdrop of the Prague Spring on 1968 and the subsequent invasion by the Soviet Union, Tomas� state of being is light � the attachments he forms are fleeting and his consideration of others minimal (he’s even jettisoned a son because he couldn’t be arsed with custody arrangements), while Tereza’s is heavy, her insecurities and her love for Tomas a weighty burden.
There’s also another pair of lovers � Sabina and Franz � who sort of meander through this, connected by the fact that Sabina is one of Tomas� more long-standing mistresses, but I found their sections almost disappeared behind the story of Tereza (the more interesting character in this, for me).
While this was very readable � I tore through this in a couple of sittings � with some wonderful passages and moments of insight, I found that for something dealing with quite big themes it all felt rather ethereal and fleeting and, much like Tomas, I imagine I’ll soon be distracted by something new and shiny and forget this altogether.
Having already seen the Jack Nicholson/Jessica Lange movie, I knew before starting that The Postman Always Rings Twice wasn't about a par4.5 really...
Having already seen the Jack Nicholson/Jessica Lange movie, I knew before starting that The Postman Always Rings Twice wasn't about a particularly determined postie (mine doesn't even bother to ring once, judging by the amount of collection cards I get through my door). The film was OK, but it turns out that this tautly written noir is fantastic, accomplishing a lot in surprisingly few pages.
A drifter shows up at the roadside diner of Nick Papadakis and is offered a job. Initially reluctant, he changes his mind the moment he sees Nick's hot wife and they're soon bumping uglies whenever Nick's away while fermenting a plot to see him gone for good...
A brilliant tale of horrible people doing horrible things, I'm now looking forward to reading more James M. Cain.
All Cockney but definitely no sparrow, Fevvers in instead part-woman, part-swan. Hatched from an egg, abandoned on a doorstep, and raised4.5 really...
All Cockney but definitely no sparrow, Fevvers in instead part-woman, part-swan. Hatched from an egg, abandoned on a doorstep, and raised in a bordello, Fevvers has grown up to be the world’s greatest aerialiste. Listening to her tall tale whilst sat amongst her unwashed knickers and tokens from admirers is journalist Jack Walser. Soon smitten, Jack joins the circus in which she’s the star attraction, and then we’re off...
Instead of joining the rest of the crowd in the stands, we take a peek under the tent-flaps where it reeks not of greasepaint and cotton candy but of stale vodka-breath and tiger shit and we get to see the people (and animals) behind those painted on smiles. Run by Colonel Kearney, who takes advice from his pig Sybil, the circus’s menagerie of characters include the brutal Ape-Man and his incredible troop of chimps, a Strong Man who’s learning that love doesn’t mean possession and a troop of sad and, at times, homicidal clowns. But more than anything it’s the female characters, presented in all of their fleshy, earthy glory, that stand out and none more so than Fevvers � although she’s given more than a run for her money by poor, horribly abused Mignon, clothed in bruises and crusted semen, being reborn in the loving arms of the mute tiger-taming Princess.
Brilliantly mixing the magic of fairytales and the stinkily real, Angela Carter is one very interesting writer indeed.
To me, reading Edith Wharton is like reading Jane Austin's older, more scathing, worldly-wise and scandalous cousin. House of Mirth is what might haveTo me, reading Edith Wharton is like reading Jane Austin's older, more scathing, worldly-wise and scandalous cousin. House of Mirth is what might have been had one of Jane's heroines not managed to snag a husband.
Lily Bart moves in somewhat rarified circles. One of the darlings of New York society, Lily is very different from her friends in one important respect; whilst they're all filthy rich, she isn't, and instead lives on the largesse of her friends and other benefactors. Now 29 and still unmarried, Lily needs to snag a husband if she's to continue to live the life she prefers. Being incredibly beautiful, she has no shortage of suitors, but isn't particularly keen on any of those options. Trouble is, she wasn't raised to be anything other than a beautiful ornament and so when the sexual power that makes men fall at her feet is used against her to oust her from the social circles in which she moves, Lily finds that she is useless for any other kind of life than the decorative and powerless to find her way back to where she feels she belongs.
Incisive both when dissecting the hypocritical high society that Lily moves in and in laying bare the character of our brilliantly flawed heroine, it was also rather emotionally affecting come the end. I both loved Lily and wanted to reach into the book to give her a shake over some of her attitudes or choices (or urge her to ruin Mrs Dorset), and was pleasantly surprised that this book didn't take me where I was expecting it to go. Even as it made me snivel.
Lucky Jim is one of those books that I would probably never have read if it wasn't included on virtually every 'Books You Must Read Before You Die' liLucky Jim is one of those books that I would probably never have read if it wasn't included on virtually every 'Books You Must Read Before You Die' list I've seen. And whilst I definitely enjoyed it, to the point of laughing aloud in several places, I don't think I'd have really missed much had I carked it before finishing.
Jim Dixon is nearing the end of his probationary period as lecturer at a University and, despite disliking his subject and nearly everyone he comes into contact with, he's desperate to hang on to his job. So desperate that he'll do anything to suck up to Professor Welch, who has the power to decide the future of his employment, even to the point of hanging out with his awful family at pretentious parties and reluctantly squiring around Margaret, one of the family's hangers-on. It's only when Bertrand, Professor Welch's boorish son, arrives with an attractive young woman in tow that Jim's luck starts to change, and after a lot of face-pulling, telephone pranking and heavy drinking, he's finally ready to start shaking Margaret off and start going after what he really wants.
As I said in the beginning, this really was funny and enjoyable (especially once I could read more than two lines at a time. Up yours to work, housework, life and shit), and I can definitely identify with a character who finds interacting with most people either awkward or annoying. I just think I was expecting a bit more to it for such an apparent must-read.
After The Stars My Destination and now this, I’m going to have to add a lot more 50’s sci-fi to my reading list. I’d initially thought th3.5 really...
After The Stars My Destination and now this, I’m going to have to add a lot more 50’s sci-fi to my reading list. I’d initially thought that my attempting to take on Asimov would be a little too dryly academic. It is, in fact, really accessible and surprisingly funny.
Hari Seldon is a psychohistorian, by which I don’t mean that he’s into Henry VIII and stabs people. Instead, psychohistory is an advanced form of mathematics applied to large populations, through which Seldon can accurately predict the fall of the Galactic Empire and the thousands of years of barbarism which will follow. The fall cannot be averted, but through the application of psychohistory Seldon can do something about how long the age of barbarism will last, by manipulating humanity onto a path towards a new Empire through the successful navigation of a series of crises.
Less a story and more a series of glimpses into those crises and the people pitted against them, there’s not much ‘action� within but there are a lot of ideas and a lot of outwitting of enemies and events in a series of conversations in which one of the players, at least, is always a few moves ahead of everyone else.
If I had any criticisms it would be that our main players, regardless of who they are or at what time they’re floating about in (sort of) history, they all sound like the same man. And it also seems that men writing sci-fi in the 50’s don’t seem able to imagine women in any roles other than the ones they already held at that time and so we are either invisible or, as in the case of the lone woman we meet, easily distracted by jewellery.
Still, it wasn’t enough to detract from what was, ultimately, a great little read.
Every now and then I come to the realisation that I've once again fallen down a paranormal/fantasy hole, and so try and widen my reading a little. It'Every now and then I come to the realisation that I've once again fallen down a paranormal/fantasy hole, and so try and widen my reading a little. It's those times that I turn to the lists - in particular 1000 Books To Read Before You Die, and the Times 100 Greatest. It's these lists that led me to this book.
Shining a light on the traditions, customs and culture of a Nigerian village through telling the story of Okonkwo - a proud and respected man of high standing - and the destruction of said culture through the arrival of Christian missionaries, this wasn't always an easy book to read although I really enjoyed the way in which it was told.
Written in a way that made me feel that I was listening to it rather than reading, I found seeing every day village life to be an effective way of learning about a culture I'd normally not have any real exposure to, even as I found myself disliking our protagonist and being upset or angered by some of its traditions and customs (such as the treatment of women and the violence against children frequently advocated by the Oracle).
Seeing the changes wrought by the missionaries whilst experiencing Okonkwo's feelings towards them made me better able to appreciate how deeply such a culture clash would run as well as how helpless the potential flock would feel in the face of such changes.
From the very first sentence of this book, I was hooked - desperate to know how and why we'd got to this point. The rest of the book was a slow build From the very first sentence of this book, I was hooked - desperate to know how and why we'd got to this point. The rest of the book was a slow build of world and information, written beautifully (so many lines jumped off the page at me, it's impossible to pick a favourite), that had me gripped from start to finish.
When Richard Papen arrives at Hampden, an elite New England college, he's immediately drawn to five friends - all students in an exclusive class to which he's desperate for entry - all eccentric, wealthy (if shabbily so) and surrounded by an air of glamour and mystery. Obfuscating (or plain lying) about his background and finances, Richard is soon drawn into the group and, eventually, their plot.
Playing with lots of ideas about the truth versus our perception of it, Richard would see the social veneers rather than what lies beneath and we go along with him for the ride, trying to glean the truth of his situation through the snatches of overheard conversations whispered outside doors, inside jokes and noises in the night, as Richard trudges through a world often shrouded in fog. When the truth, or a version that's been given to Richard, comes to light all of those solid friendships and ideas of who people are suddenly wobble and collapse and we're left with paranoia, bitterness, jealousy and fear.
Though this world is a million miles away from mine - not only did I not go to University but my 6th form college friends and I were more likely to be found haunting greasy spoon cafes, sailors pubs and '£1 a pint' nights at JFK's (a local rock club) in the company of others like us from poor to average working class backgrounds (none of Grandmother's mink and Mother's pills for us!) - it all felt very real to me and I found myself feeling as betrayed as Bunny at times by these friends of mine.
Beautifully written, fantastically plotted, peopled with extmely memorable characters (Bunny in particular really jumps off the page) and very, very interesting, I highly commend this to all....more
After The Age of Innocence and now this, I'm starting to wonder if Wharton's husband secretly fancied her cousin.
In an intense tale that made me feelAfter The Age of Innocence and now this, I'm starting to wonder if Wharton's husband secretly fancied her cousin.
In an intense tale that made me feel as trapped as its protagonist, Ethan Frome is bound by poverty in a harsh life on a pitiful farm in a small rural community, married to a mean and hypochondriac woman. It's small wonder his wife's poorer cousin, brought in as help for Zeena (the wife) looks so appealing. But when it looks as though Mattie is to be sent away, Ethan's predicament becomes even more awful.
As excellently written, though a lot more depressing than The Age of Innocence, this packed a surprising amount of weight for such a small book and, while I'll probably give it a while before I pick up more of Wharton's work, I'll definitely be reading more.
A Victorian scientist transports himself 800,000 years into the future via his Time Machine and arrives in a version of our world which on first glancA Victorian scientist transports himself 800,000 years into the future via his Time Machine and arrives in a version of our world which on first glance would appear to be a utopia, peopled by a simple and child-like race called the Eloi. But they're not the only ones populating this future world and the Eloi live in fear of the Morlocks, a subterranean and violent race.
Instead of Mankind evolving into ever better versions of ourselves, humanity has divided itself in reaction to the growing disparity of the classes, with the rich becoming ever more refined and indolent, leading to the Eloi who are now prey to what has become of the ancestors of the increasingly brutal poor, the Morlocks.
I've somehow managed to go my entire life without any familiarity whatsoever with the many adaptations of this story, and so was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't just an adventure story. The gap between rich and poor was huge in Wells' time and so his speculation on what might become of mankind is a nice little nightmarish piece of social commentary that is still rather relevant (especially as that gap is widening again in the present).
I expect that if this had been one of my first forays into science fiction I would have rated it higher, but I can't help but bring my own reading history to it, and as such I would have liked a little more meat. ...more
Hmmmm, well, er...bit hard to pin down, this one...
Vernon Little is from a small Texan town, Martirio, and his best friend has just shot up the schoolHmmmm, well, er...bit hard to pin down, this one...
Vernon Little is from a small Texan town, Martirio, and his best friend has just shot up the school before turning the gun on himself. With the culprit dead the town, the cops and the media turn to Vernon, who they've already decided is also guilty as it fits better with the narrative playing out on their TV's, where they're now small-screen stars too.
At equal turns compelling and frustrating this almost worked for me as Vernon has a brilliantly bitter voice, but the more ridiculous things became on the way to the climax the less I enjoyed it....more
A compelling novel of love and loss, guilt and forgiveness told in three parts: the first tells the events of an afternoon in 1935 from the perspectivA compelling novel of love and loss, guilt and forgiveness told in three parts: the first tells the events of an afternoon in 1935 from the perspectives of Briony, a precocious fledgling novelist of 13, her sister Cecelia and Robbie, the charlady's son. When Briony witnesses a moment of sexual tension between her sister and Robbie, her lack of adult comprehension and her passion for writing stories transforms the moment into one of evil intent on the part of Robbie and when her cousin Lola is later mysteriously attacked, Briony points the finger - the crime for which Briony is thereafter seeking atonement as Robbie is jailed and he and her sister torn apart.
The second part tells of Robbie, no longer in prison but still kept from Cecelia by World War II, as the British beat a hasty retreat from Dunkirk, as he tries to find his way back to her. Lastly, the third part sees Briony as she reaches her late teens and becomes a nurse, and then in her eighties as she tries to redress the wrongs she committed through a novel - the one we've been reading.
Clever, compelling and thought provoking, though a little too detached at times for me - I never really felt as emotionally engaged as I felt I should....more
Les Miserables is apparently one of the longest running stage shows ever. I can't say I'm surprised - if it's at all faithful to the book then the firLes Miserables is apparently one of the longest running stage shows ever. I can't say I'm surprised - if it's at all faithful to the book then the first ever performance is most likely still bloody going.
On the one hand it's the powerful story of Jean Valjean, a convict seeking redemption. Supported by a cast of thousands, who each have their own stories, it's also the powerfully irritating and soul-sapping story of a million and one other things that popped into Hugo's head while writing. Whilst the man could definitely write, he seemed to be altogether too fond of the scratch of his own pen and this soon became hugely frustrating - I lost count of the times I'd have been transported by a wonderful and engrossing part only to have to stop so Hugo could blather on for multiple chapters about nuns, sewers, slang, or something equally fascinating, to the point that I'd have completely lost the thread of the story by the time we got back to the characters. And even then I wasn't always safe, as his characters were just as windbaggy as their creator when the fancy took him (Why use one word when you have 20,000 more at your disposal? Chuck 'em all in!) I soon got to the stage where I'd have to set the book down and pick up something light whenever I got to one of these sections and would then have that horrible sinking feeling on picking it back up, all of which helped to add to the feeling that the events in the book were taking place in real time.
Starting to feel like I was trapped in my own weird version of Groundhog Day, where I'd be cursed to read this book for eternity, it's probably a good thing I read this on my Kindle rather than in book form as I'd have likely tried to club myself to death with it long before the end. When the end did finally come, I could have wept. Not due to the contents, but out of sheer relief.
It's a shame, as there were undoubtedly some moments of extraordinary writing and if I was basing my rating just on the brilliant bits I'd probably look better too, but I'm basing this rating on the fact that this nearly completely rid me of my passion for reading and the fact that I'm now wishing to stick to the shallow end of the pool for the near future, until I've recovered my mojo.
Funny and frivolous, here we meet teenaged Catherine Morland who's good-hearted if a little slow on the uptake, as she's whisked away on holiday to BaFunny and frivolous, here we meet teenaged Catherine Morland who's good-hearted if a little slow on the uptake, as she's whisked away on holiday to Bath. On meeting a charming young man and being invited to his home, an old abbey, to stay by his sister Catherine soon gets herself into difficulties by imagining herself to be in the sort of story that she adores reading. She's not though.
While not as brilliant as some of her others, this was still a light, fun read with its tongue resting firmly in its cheek....more
Yay! I finally freaking finished!! I had started to believe for a moment that I had done something to annoy the gods so they'd chosen to punish me a lYay! I finally freaking finished!! I had started to believe for a moment that I had done something to annoy the gods so they'd chosen to punish me a la Prometheus, and I would be stuck reading it for the rest of my life. Epic barely touches it - dealing with the South pre, during and post Civil War this sometimes felt as if it was taking place in real time and, much like I feel when wolfing a massive meal after starving for a while, I started off devouring it but soon passed into feeling completely over-full, uncomfortable and a little bit sick.
With a fabulous grasp on her characters (even if virtually all of them are hateful), undeniable writing talent and an appalling ideology, I don't believe I've ever had such a wildly contradictory and infuriating reading experience.
Scarlett O'Hara is the pampered daughter of a plantation owning family and the belle of the county. Spoilt, selfish, spiteful, shallow, callous, ruthless and possessing a low cunning if not actually very bright, she's also about as subtle as a sledgehammer, regardless of how she rates her own arts. About the only good thing anyone could say about her is that she's a looker, and it's quite a brave move on the part of Mitchell to have her heroine be so truly appalling (quite why anyone would want to identify with her is beyond me) and yet still manage to make you read on. To Scarlett, all the talk of imminent war is nothing but a dull obstacle to flirting and balls, though even she can't avoid her life being touched by events in the aftermath of the South's defeat. Initially this worked really well for me - by the time Scarlett starts being affected things have all gone to hell and the horrors faced by those living through such times were almost more resonant as they were so shocking to Scarlett's previously unseeing eyes. Unscrupulous to begin with, as the book progressed Scarlett didn't so much grow but rather descend ever downwards in her conduct and character - a development which was rather interesting to me.
However...whilst I tried so very hard to simply see the sentiments and views in the book as a depiction of things as they were at that time I really struggled with the incredibly pro-South outlook of the novel, where Mitchell presents the relationship between slaves and their masters as so loving and tender that slaves were virtually dandled on their masters' knees. As the book went on, and particularly during Part 4, I felt like I was reading Klan propaganda as Mitchell amplified the views via the narrative voice as well as those of her characters, with no opposing voices, and showed more and more clearly where her own sympathies lay. I cannot find any sympathy for the South's "Glorious Cause", fighting for the right to keep their slaves and mind their own affairs, then nursing their wounded pride when they got their asses kicked in the war they started, and could not join in the author's lamentation at the loss of the old way of life and all of the wealth, luxury, ease and gentility that went with as I see no beauty but rather ugliness, built as it was on the backs of such an abhorrent practice. Bend over, Mitchell, and I'll show you where you can shove that 'gentility'.
It soon got to be that the only bright spots in the book came through the interactions of Scarlett and Rhett Butler (who is a fabulous character, and if forced to choose between he and the wet and weak Ashley, Rhett wouldn't even need to show up to win easily) whose verbal sparring crackled with chemistry, and the fact that the last part of the book brought them to the fore as they tore one another apart almost started to make up for my struggles...but not quite.
If I was rating the book solely on the basis of the story of Scarlett (with the brilliant characterisation and writing talent, although a more ruthless editor would have been welcome) I would have rated it a lot higher but I really couldn't make it past the ideology and attitudes that underpinned it, hence the 2 star rating (with that extra star won through Rhett)....more
Beautiful but shallow and bored in her marriage which has failed to transport her into the many ecstasies of love which she's read of in romances, EmmBeautiful but shallow and bored in her marriage which has failed to transport her into the many ecstasies of love which she's read of in romances, Emma Bovary, for whom the grass is always greener elsewhere, embarks on affairs and much shopping leading to more unhappiness, ruin and death.
While written in the 19th century it still resonates today - who doesn't know someone with a terrifying credit card bill built on the premise that the next 'perfect' pair of jeans/car/handbag will make them happy? Or someone who stumbles from one fling to the next the instant the heady whirlwind of early romance has died down, always in search of the happy-ever-after Hollywood has promised them?
Well written and often insightful, this is also famously non-judgmental towards its heroine, an assessment I can't agree with following passages that talk of her like this:
"First upon the eyes, that had so coveted all worldly pomp; then upon the nostrils, that had been greedy of the warm breeze and amorous odours; then upon the mouth, that had uttered lies, that had curled with pride and cried out in lewdness; then upon the hands that had delighted in sensual touches; and finally upon the soles of the feet, so swift of yore, when she was running to satisfy her desires..."
If that's Flaubert being non-judgmental I can't imagine what he'd be like if he felt someone deserved censure!...more
Proving yet again what a great writer Jane Austen is/was, by providing me with yet another book that I thoroughly enjoyed while harbouring an intense Proving yet again what a great writer Jane Austen is/was, by providing me with yet another book that I thoroughly enjoyed while harbouring an intense dislike for its heroine.
While very different to Fanny from Mansfield Park she's at least as awful by way of being a conceited, judgemental, snotty, meddlesome and spoiled young woman who while being rather witty and charming in conversation proves herself to be a truly abominable, careless friend. Thankfully due to it being written in such a witty, knowing way it's quite good fun to watch Emma blunder her way through the match-making she thinks she's so good at, while pitying poor Harriet for having such a horrid friend.
With brilliant characters (I loved Mr. Knightley and liked that he wasn't blind to Emma's faults, even if I had secretly hoped that somehow Harriet might snag him after all to serve Emma right) and an acute eye for social scenes and bitchery (in particular regard to Mrs Elton and Emma herself once Jane Fairfax is introduced) this was great fun....more
A 'classic of erotic literature' that is completely unerotic, this was a strange one for me. I can appreciate Miller's skill as a writer, which comes A 'classic of erotic literature' that is completely unerotic, this was a strange one for me. I can appreciate Miller's skill as a writer, which comes to life beautifully whenever he is ruminating on art, the streets of Paris and humanity in general, but whenever we came back to the main thrust of the book I found myself underwhelmed and unadmiring. Much of this probably comes from my opinion towards desire as depicted within - it's a form of desire that is either extremely male or individual to Miller in which women are reduced to a nameless, faceless parade of 'cunt' (clearly that's the only important part of us, the prick...) only of worth when giving a lay or doling out francs or food, and the copious amounts of sex being had is a hostile and squalid battle, not enjoyed due to any attraction it would seem but merely as a way of competing with other men, eradicating the traces of those who came before. I soon started to find it all rather tedious, alleviated intermittently by quite beautiful passages on the environment of Paris, or the paintings of Matisse.
I can appreciate that this book, with it's unapologetic honesty and liberal use of fucks and cunts, would have been groundbreaking at the time of it's writing, but 70-odd years later it's lost it's power to shock and instead left me feeling a little 'meh', as well as infinitely glad I've not had the misfortune of meeting a man like this.
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