At 1,000+ pages, the book is, like Mr. Norrell's manner of speech, oftentimes frustratingly long-winded, with countless unnecessary scenes and anMeh--
At 1,000+ pages, the book is, like Mr. Norrell's manner of speech, oftentimes frustratingly long-winded, with countless unnecessary scenes and annoying withholding of information and important scenes that would've been fascinating to read about. This is especially true in the last 300 pages, when the story should ideally pick up speed and dash to the climax¡ªwhich it sort of does in fits and starts, and then ends in a slightly dissatisfying poof (I did like seeing John Uskglass, even for a glimpse and how Vinculus's prophecy is fulfilled). Granted, the writing is smooth and, to use an appropriate term, enchanting, as it did manage to hold my attention till the end (though I have to admit I couldn't care less about the footnotes from around the halfway point). The world of alternate 19th-century England is described wonderfully, yes, but I sense that the author liked building and immersing herself in that world more than in the story, and to me that penchant gets the better of her at the cost of the narrative....more
The premise is quite promising: a curse by an accused wizard that runs through a family from one generation to another. There iUnderdelivered Premise¡ª
The premise is quite promising: a curse by an accused wizard that runs through a family from one generation to another. There is so much potential in that, but I felt it was not explored to the fullest, not even close by a long shot. There are short spells of wisdom here and there¡ªI liked how Hawthorne used the railroad toward the end as a counterpoint metaphor to the stolidity-cum-stability of the House of the Seven Gables, and there are some keen observations by the omniscient narrator, which I duly noted down. Even with these praiseworthy aspects, the novel is full of what I as a modern reader take to be saccharine sentimentality, information annoyingly withheld from the reader, vacuous theatrical flair by the narrator that just fails to entertain, all the double negatives (e.g. ¡°hardly¡not¡± or ¡°not less¡:¡±) and such constructions that freeze the brain, unreal dialogue (nobody, surely, talked like that!), and, even if you eventually get used to all the foregoing quaint elements you can chalk up to the 19th-century old-fashioned style as I did, the deadening and deadly pace of the story from beginning to end¡ªespecially, especially, especially toward the end, when it should be swift and merciless in spellbinding the reader, and where I was tempted multiple times to just put the book down and end the boredom. The character of the old maiden woman Hepzibah (who, by the way, is a character straight from Dicken¡¯s work) is plain irksome to read about from page 1, Phoebe, though very likable, remains quite one-dimensional throughout, and so is Holgrove with his facetious and inhuman monologues (by contrast, Hawthorne¡¯s friend and contemporary, Melville did a far better job with monologues in his Moby Dick). What was most irksome was spending pages and pages reading about the narrator talk endlessly about Judge Pyncheon¡ªit was so infuriatingly boring and unnecessary from the point of view of the story that it was difficult not to put the book down, but then I was so close to finishing the novel that I persisted, perhaps against my better judgment, and reached the end, only to feel like a heavy curse¡ªnot unlike the one that begins the novel¡ªwas FINALLY lifted off me and, like the characters in the story, SET FREE FROM THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES!
Overall, not really worth the read unless you want to experience for yourself the genius of the novel that miraculously manages to create in the reader the very sense of doom and curse that the book treats.
"Our first youth is of no value; for we are never conscious of it until after it is gone. But sometimes¡ªalways, I suspect, unless one is exceedingly unfortunate¡ªthere comes a sense of second youth, gushing out of the heart's joy at being in love; or, possibly, it may come to crown some other grand festival in life, if any other such there be. This bemoaning of one's self (as you do now) over the first, careless, shallow gaiety of youth departed, and this profound happiness at youth regained¡ªso much deeper and richer than that we lost¡ªare essential to the soul's development. In some cases, the two states come almost simultaneously, and mingle the sadness and the rapture in one mysterious emotion" (185)...more
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