Re-read because Neil Gaiman shared the picture of David Tennant and Michael Sheen as Crowley and Aziraphale (respectively) for the BBC series adaptatiRe-read because Neil Gaiman shared the picture of David Tennant and Michael Sheen as Crowley and Aziraphale (respectively) for the BBC series adaptation, and I am having a nerdgasm about it.
As a Gaiman fangirl and (slightly less rabid) fan of Mr. Pratchett’s work, I knew exactly what to expect the first time I read “Good Omens”: something zany, irreverent, stuffed with quintessential British wit, passages that make me burst in giggles on the subway and ultimately, a story that’s a bit deeper than expected – albeit in a totally twisted way.
Crowley is a demon, Aziraphale, an angel. They’ve known each other for a very, very long time and were stationed on Earth to do what demons and angels do: gently nudge humanity to be a little bit better, or a little bit worse. It’s all a question of perspective, really… One day, some of Crowley’s colleagues from Hell put him in charge of delivering the Antichrist to a couple of unsuspecting parents, who will raise him for eleven years; at which point, he will come into his power and bring on the End. Unfortunately, for this grand old plan, there’s a bit of a mix up… Add to that the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale ended up getting quite comfortable on Earth: now neither of them wants the Apocalypse to happen (there are no sushi restaurants in Heaven and all the good musicians will be in Hell; its intolerable either way), and they will do everything they can to sabotage it.
I love the idea of the Apocalypse not happening because of a bureaucratic snafu, namely that the Antichrist was placed with a family of super ordinary parents instead of the (predictable) American diplomats the Satanists intended him for. As a result, Adam is a strange child, but not a particularly evil one… I mean, how evil are 11 year-olds, right? I love that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have found creative ways to hone their skills and pass the time as they wait for the big show (also, Death is my favorite Discworld character, so I am always pleased when he makes an appearance). I love angels and demons having a drink together as they discuss free will, the nature of good and evil and generally behaving like slackers. And I love a tiny Antichrist who thinks that if people cared a little bit less about their afterlife, maybe they'd be a bit more careful about their actual life.
I docked a star because it does drag in some places, and the ending is (ironically) a little anti-climactic. But it's still an absolute delight. To be read again and again....more
Nick Hornby’s writing makes me smile. His dry British wit, his honesty, his quirkiness, his nerdiness. It’s all so damn charming! I cannot file him asNick Hornby’s writing makes me smile. His dry British wit, his honesty, his quirkiness, his nerdiness. It’s all so damn charming! I cannot file him as junk food reading because he is much too earnest and positive: reading his book has an uplifting effect on me and that if definitely not a guilty pleasure.
This is the book that inspired the movie with Hugh Grant, which inspired the TV show with David Walton and Minnie Driver. I will shamelessly admit to liking all 3, but the original work is still the best! I think that the movie and TV show (while it lasted) worked as well as they did because Hornby created wonderful and endearing characters you want keep seeing over and over again.
The book takes place in 1993, which is important in terms of musical references (the title is a wink to Nirvana’s “About a girl”, which is only one of the many references to Nirvana peppered throughout the book) and current events that end up influencing the plot, but not crucial to the overall arc of this wonderful little story. Will is a mid-30’s slacker man-child, living off the royalties of a terrible Christmas song written by his father. He had musical aspirations of his own at some point, but he abandoned them in favor of simply enjoying the lifestyle his inheritance could afford him. In his quest for single women, he winds up at a single parents meeting – and can only justify his being there by posing as a single parent himself… This leads to an accidental friendship with Marcus, a hopelessly eccentric (read: lame) 12 year-old, raised by a depressive hippie mother. This friendship will ultimately change Will and Marcus’ lives and help them both grow up.
Hornby describes some tough situations in this book, and while his style is light, it never makes fun of or trivializes the issues tackled, such as depression, suicide, single-parenthood. I admire Hornby’s capacity to be honest and sensitive about these topics: he avoids melodrama while being very touching, which is not an easy feat.
The narration alternates between Will and Marcus’s POV and they play off each other so well. Will is cynical, selfish and immature. Marcus is naïve, candid and much too literal, but uncannily aware of what is going on around him. Children who are old for their age often can’t relate to other kids in their age groups. Marcus doesn’t want to bother his mother with his problems, as he sees her own issues are taking their toll on her and he doesn’t want to add to her worries. All of Will’s friends are married and have children while he just sits around being “cool”. Both of them are effectively isolated until they meet and find a weird place where they can talk to each other. Their friendship is unconventional but they obviously care about and understand each other the way no one else in their lives does. They have plenty to learn from each other and their evolution is often hilarious as Marcus tries to become a little more hip and as Will attempts to enter into a real relationship with Rachel. I also love Fiona, the wacky hippie mom who infamously sings “with her eyes closed”; Will and Marcus’ opposite perceptions of her never fail to make me giggle.
This is a lovely, surprisingly deep little book about friendship, coming of age, love and family. It’s a heartwarming story that will not change your life nor will it reinvent the wheel, but it’s a pleasure to read and I warmly recommend it to everyone....more
Re-reading this book in 2021, at least five or six years since my last read, I was wondering if it would feel dated, if the angry Gen-X energy would fRe-reading this book in 2021, at least five or six years since my last read, I was wondering if it would feel dated, if the angry Gen-X energy would feel somewhat stale. It hasn't. In fact, I found it unnervingly relevant...
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“Nihilistic Zen” would have been a great subtitle for “Fight Club”. I have to admit this is the only Palahniuk I’ve read, and while I am not really tempted to read more (I get the point Chuck, I don’t need to discuss the most disgusting things humans are capable of over and over again, but thank you for your valiant efforts), I absolutely loved this one.
It’s a weird, transgressive book, full of dark humour and it sounds like something Hemingway would have written while tripping on amphetamines. It’s a book about what happens when you realize that buying stuff will not make you nearly as happy as the ads said it would, when you realize that you are not destined for greatness, when you realize that the world is completely fubar and that while you can try to do something about, it is unlikely you will ever see tangible results. When all of that hits you, the only thing that might make you feel better is having someone else hit you in the face as hard as they can. It’s a book about what happens when you let your pessimism and your nihilistic urges take over the wheel and drive you straight into a wall. It’s a restless, angry book: but Gen-X is an angry and restless generation, and it really captured something about the apathy and disillusionment that plagues it.
Consumerist culture is something that drives me completely insane. I’ve worked in offices for a decade, and sometimes, while I listen to my colleagues talk about their slow-cookers, their frontal washer and dryer sets, their fancy cars and Heaven knows what else, I hear Tyler Durden’s voice in my head:
“And the things you used to own, now they own you.”
Don’t get me wrong: I have plenty of crap I don’t need, we all do. And I really don’t like it… I don’t feel the need to punch people, but it used to be an attractive idea, and I can see why after this book (and the brilliant movie adaptation) came out, short-lived fight clubs were created here and there. This brilliant and gritty statement about our lives being governed by a hollow materialism that only seeks to distract us from the meaninglessness of existence touched a nerve in way too many people to be ignored. Of course what you are supposed to get out of this is that people need a purpose – not to mention genuine human connection – to be fulfilled. Otherwise their brains are easily subverted to the point where they think that ganging up to blow shit up “just because” is a great idea.
When you look at it from a psychological perspective, Tyler is pure Id unleashed; the devil on your shoulder that wants to destroy everything. The narrator’s ego asserts itself through violent acts, and it spirals out of control brutally fast, with the Fight Club turning into Project Mayhem in what seems like the blink of an eye. Of course all of this is only an illusory escape, and when Tyler punches the narrator in the face, it’s really the narrator punching himself the same way that the ego’s violence is only ultimately directed inwards. But if I am going to be totally honest, I am not sure if Palahniuk even knew that he was writing a psychological allegory. Or that he gives a fuck about whether or not people see it as such.
Whether you see it as a cautionary tale, as an allegory of spiritual rebellion gone bad or as a middle-management revenge fantasy is irrelevant, as far as I am concerned. I believe it to be an important book because it broke the mold when it was first published and while we are way more jaded now, the jab at consumerism and traditionally defined masculinity (or lack thereof) still rings awfully true. It remains darkly funny, completely absurd and terrifyingly plausible....more
Updated with comments on the Hulu TV show at the end!
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November is one of my least favorite months of the year: in Canada, it’s cold, humid and gray Updated with comments on the Hulu TV show at the end!
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November is one of my least favorite months of the year: in Canada, it’s cold, humid and gray all the time, there are no stat holidays to give us a breather and everyone is losing their minds in the manic ramp up to the Holidays. That’s why I usually spend the month re-reading books that make me happy – I think of it as literary self-care and as an antidote to the crippling seasonal affective disorder that turns me into a raccoon every winter. “High Fidelity” has always given me a warm and fuzzy feeling that’s just perfect for my book-hygge binge.
Part of that is how much I relate to Rob. Well, used to relate, I guess: I was basically a Rob in my twenties. I am a music nerd, and to be honest, a bit of a music snob (I can’t control my facial expression at all when someone tells me they’ve never heard of Joe Strummer, and I once cried because a guy I liked told me he preferred the Perfect Circle cover of “Gimme Gimme Gimme” over the Black Flag original…). I am also naturally neurotic, and I used to over-analyse and dissect relationships, conversations and social interactions to death. But worse of all, I used to have this incredibly dumb pattern of falling for a guy’s potential instead of for who he was when we met, which, as you can imagine, never ended well. I broke the pattern eventually, but it wasn’t always a smooth sail. All that to say that I know Rob as if I had written him myself, and watching him try to figure out how everything could have gone so wrong between him and Laura makes me feel like there is hope for the most awkward of us if we are just willing to work on ourselves a bit.
Rob is a record store owner in his mid-thirties, but he’s one of those man-child who hasn’t matured much since his late teens. He spends his days at the shop with his employees, coming up with all kinds of Top 5 lists and being an absolute elitist jerk to people who aren’t as knowledgeable as he is about the Smiths. When his live-in girlfriend Laura leaves him, it plunges his comfortable but lazy life into complete disarray. He decides to try and figure out why he always seems to be getting dumped, and makes a list of his most memorable break ups with the intention to find the women and ask them why they rejected him. We follow him through a very belated coming of age, as he begins to see that he hasn’t exactly been a very good boyfriend to anyone in his life, and that the women may not necessarily be the problem…
I love Rob’s inner monologue, the caustic, self-deprecating but confused and lonely voice of a man who never took the time to understand the women he dated. I also love the way Hornby captures the way music can affect people very deeply: when Rob gets all out of sorts about the Peter Frampton cover, I remembered being moved by similarly ridiculous songs (view spoiler)[(“I Caught Fire” by the Used: you have my permission to laugh at me for ever) (hide spoiler)] because for one reason or another, they hit a very specific nerve at the weirdest time. The scene still made me laugh, but I think I might have also blushed because I have been through that.
Mr. Hornby’s book is not a literary game-changer, but it’s a refreshing look into the neurosis that accompany modern relationships, our perpetual dissatisfaction with others, our selfish need to be happy at the world’s expense. Rob is more fun to hang out with than Emma Bovary, but both of them have the same issue of wishing their lives was exactly like their fantasies and they act out when that doesn’t happen. Rob, unlike Emma, eventually gets his shit together and one of the things I love most about this book is that it believes in forgiveness and second chances. There is hope and optimism in these pages, and while that might feel naïve at times, it’s also lovely. We all fantasize on what life could be, but we must never lose sight of how life really is, because it’s often much nicer than any wild fantasy we can come up with, and “High Fidelity” is a sweet reminder of that.
I really enjoy the movie, even with the Americanization of everything. John Cusack and Jack Black (“Don’t tell anyone you don’t own Blonde On Blonde, that’s obscene!”, is precisely the sort of obnoxious thing I say) play off each other perfectly and the soundtrack kicks serious ass.
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The 2020 Hulu adaptation is absolutely amazing! There are many Easter eggs for fans of the movie, the music is obviously beyond fantastic, and Zoë Kravitz is a perfect Rob! I was afraid of what they would do with the character of Barry, but Da'Vine Joy Randolph truly makes the character of Cherise unique, loveable and scary all at once. Hulu sadly won't be making a second season - which seems to be what happens to really great shows lately, and I think it's a real shame because this was a complete delight. If you like the book and/or the movie, don't hesitate for a minute and watch the series!...more
Noir, thriller, family-mystery, social and political statement, psychological study… There is so much stuff going on the in the Millenium trilogy thatNoir, thriller, family-mystery, social and political statement, psychological study… There is so much stuff going on the in the Millenium trilogy that I don’t know where to begin with reviewing this book.
I watched a documentary on Stieg Larsson and one of the first thing they said, as you get a panoramic shot of beautiful Stockholm, is that Sweden is the rape capital of the world. “What? WHAT?!?!” you might have heard me scream at my tv, had you been in the room with me. Apparently, under its guise of lovely socialist Heaven, Sweden has some very dark spots, and Larsson was not afraid of bringing some very uncomfortable truths about his country to light. He was an investigative journalist who, just like his protagonist, Mikael Blomkvist, pissed off important (read: rich) people by telling the world the not-so-nice things they were doing, and for that, he actually lived in fear for his life.
Because he is a journalist, I can tell you right off the bat that his prose is nothing special. In a possible effort to sound realistic, he describes settings, meals and the contents of people’s bags in an almost clinical fashion. That’s really the only thing I can hold against his work though, because he created an amazing story and unforgettable characters, despite his obsession with sandwiches and IKEA. His Millenium trilogy is compulsively readable and impossible to forget.
Originally titled “Men who hate women”, this is the first book featuring the Mikael Blomkvist/Lisbeth Salander duo. A disgraced journalist is hired by an old industrialist to solve an ancient family mystery: the disappearance of his beloved niece. Said journalist hires a very unusual assistant, and they both find out much more than they bargained for as they conduct their investigation.
That’s the main story, but Larsson packs a lot more than that in there. Lisbeth’s own struggle with her legal guardian and her bizarre family history are interwoven with the investigation, as well as Blomkvist’s attempt at cleaning his reputation after he was accused of defamation and sentenced to go to jail. In fact, it’s a very hard book to summarize because it goes so many places, in a very intricate web, and somehow, doesn’t feel scattered. It’s also a completely addictive read: the pacing is great, the characters out of the box and the story unfolds in a very gripping way. You end up wanting to figure it all out just as much as Mikael and Lisbeth.
A word about Lisbeth: she is such an amazing bad-ass. Damaged, resourceful, incredibly intelligent, completely unique. I simply loved her and rooted for her on every page. She is weird, anti-social, has major trust and authority issues and can react violently when she feels threatened, but she is also deeply caring, albeit in her own awkward way. It has become a cliché to have a dark, “alternative” looking female hacker character kicking around, I am quite aware of that. But I think that Lisbeth stands out. We must remember that this is the first tome of a trilogy, and that through said trilogy, she matures and evolves quite significantly. In “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”, she is introduced and shown at a pivotal moment of her life, and events taking place in the first book start a ripple effect that continues throughout the entire trilogy.
Blomkvist is a weird one: women apparently find him irresistible, he’s a great journalist, a shitty father, but a generally good and caring guy. I like the fact that he is realistically flawed and clever, but some aspects of his personality felt a bit inconsistent. The other characters are interesting, though I feel they are not as fleshed out as the leading duo.
I really enjoyed this book! It’s a great, entertaining, disturbing read. The main characters are compelling, the mystery is fascinating and the final part will keep you reading on the edge of your seat until the last page. I like that the topic of violence towards women was addressed in a realistic, careful way. It is not a pleasant subject matter to tackle, and it took a lot of courage on Larsson’s part to write about it. I’m very happy to have an intelligent noir thriller handy when I feel like escaping (to a super fucked up, violent place).
Oh, and no offense to Mr. Fincher, but if you want to watch a movie version, get the Swedish trilogy. Noomi Rapace is incredible as Salander!...more
"Nobody exists on purpose. Nobody belongs anywhere. Everybody's gonna die. Come watch TV." - Rick & Morty.
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Slightly scattered review with a few poten"Nobody exists on purpose. Nobody belongs anywhere. Everybody's gonna die. Come watch TV." - Rick & Morty.
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Slightly scattered review with a few potential spoilers. This novel, while short, required quite a bit of literary digestion and reflection. Beware!
I read this book for the first time years and years ago, for a philosophy class - I suppose this is the way most people get introduced to Camus. I can't say it impressed me much then: it sounded flat and dry. I was an angsty, hormone-riddled teenager: I wanted to read about passion, not about some bloke who felt nothing! It wasn't the right time and place for me to understand and appreciate "The Stranger".
Reading it now is a totally different experience. The elegant, minimalist prose feels beautiful and effortless. It had made me angry the first time around, and now it makes me feel sad. To be unable to find meaning and joy in the good things in life and to simply watch your days go by indifferently must be so lonely and crushing. The emptiness of Meursault's existence and his strange alienation are intriguing and frustrating, but this time around, I found myself feeling a sympathy I hadn't been felt towards him before.
While Meursault is still kind of a dick, I now wonder if he isn't just a little bit autistic. His analytical and detached descriptions of the small events of his routine and the people he interacts with are clinical, but not indifferent. He simply seems to feel separate from those events and those people, estranged because his feelings do not push him to express himself the way others expect him to. We never get to know why he behaves this way, his past is an absolute mystery: maybe there is some trauma or maybe he was always like that, burdened by life. He nevertheless goes through the motions, until one day, when he commits a senseless crime, then endures a trial and sentencing process he feels completely disconnected from. The judicial system goes through the motions the same way he does: his court-appointed lawyer doesn't care about him, he just tries to do the best he can with what he perceives as an unhelpful client.
As I was reading, I started thinking about social niceties, and how the face we show the world is rarely honest. For all of Meursault's callousness, he is as honest as they come, but there is something naive about his rigorous honesty; it ultimately leads to his demise because he can't believe that his lack of emotional involvement makes him a criminal. He won't wear the socially acceptable façade, which is upsetting and confusing to his lawyer and the judges in charge of his trial. Not showing enough emotion, not showing the expected emotions, not behaving normally… When his lawyer rhetorically asks if Meursault is being judged for putting his mother in a retirement home or for murder, it oddly reminded me of all the absurd conversations I got stuck in because I don't like babies - and it's apparently abnormal and unnatural for a woman not to like babies…
Meursault seems to conclude that there is no point in fighting against his sentence and that he would die one day or another regardless of the actions of the law. He seems to accept this as the logical consequence of his actions, of his refusal to lie, to play the social game. Camus said in an interview that he dies for truth, and I can see that - but I still don't feel satisfied upon finishing the last page… I closed the book and I felt like what I got of out this classic existentialist novel is that it is up to us to fill our existence with meaning because the universe is completely indifferent to our puny little lives; I believe in our happiness in life being our own responsibility. But I am not sure that's what Camus was saying…
To be completely honest, I gave "The Stranger" four stars because I really enjoyed the read, and as you can tell, it made me sit there and think quite a lot, but I wish it had been a bigger book. I feel like I picked it up one morning and then it was over before I had time to even understand what I had just read. I get that Camus didn't want to give his readers easy answers, but instead wanted to push them to think and to question, so I know my dissatisfaction isn't about a flaw in the book so much as my own desire to flesh out those issues more deeply. I will be re-reading this one. ...more
Updated review after a reread in September/October 2020. Thoughts about the new movie at the end of the review.
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If anyone has ever wondered where my Updated review after a reread in September/October 2020. Thoughts about the new movie at the end of the review.
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If anyone has ever wondered where my love of creepy stories, gorgeous British estates and snarky Englishmen came from, well one would have to look no further than Du Maurier’s classic novel. I think I snagged this one from my mother’s library when I was thirteen or fourteen and never gave it back. The way Maxim whisks his new bride off her feet seemed so romantic to my unexperienced teenage self, I had no idea back then that a memory can take more room in someone’s life than a flesh and blood presence. And that there are some things you should definitely, definitely tell your spouse…
A shy lady’s companion is staying in Monte Carlo with her obnoxious American employer. There she meets the mysterious and handsome Maxim de Winter, the recently widowed owner of a famous estate in Cornwall. To her great surprise, he proposes marriage and takes her back to his beautiful home, Manderley. But there, she is greeted by the housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, who adored the late Mrs. de Winter, and makes it unambiguous that she thinks her new mistress does not belong in the house – some rooms of which have been preserved almost like shrines to the memory of the titular Rebecca. Our heroine tries to understand what was so special about her predecessor, but the secrets she will unearth are not at all what she expected…
The beautiful house, the byronesque husband with a dark secret, the crazy housekeeper, the haunting presence of the other woman… Daphne Du Maurier clearly loved “Jane Eyre” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), and as I reread it, I found myself thinking that this novel might be the first and possibly most successful fanfiction in history, because “Rebecca” absolutely is a Gothic novel in the Bronte’s tradition, as well as a psychological mystery of the finest kind. It’s still one of my favorite novels: I do have a weakness for a good Gothic story (and cranky men), but I value good writing above genre, and “Rebecca” has some extraordinary writing! The atmosphere, suspense and images crafted by Du Maurier are spectacular and highly evocative! Not to mention the fascinating story and the clever narration.
One of the things that strikes me with "Rebecca" is that is really is about the Other Woman. The metaphorical ghost of Mr. de Winter's late wife takes so much space, her influence is so obvious around the estate, her memory and reputation are so omnipresent that she truly does haunt Manderley. There is nothing supernatural in this novel, and yet this is the story of how a dead person controls the living from beyond the grave. A flesh and blood mistress would not have the importance that this shadow commands over the life of all those who are under the roof of the grand old house.
Let’s be frank, it’s easy to dislike the nameless narrator: she’s such a hopeless daydreamer, a rather spineless wallflower, and it can be hard to sympathize when she feels lonely and rejected (because she never asserts herself, gawd!!) and is way too eager to please her cold and mysterious husband Maxim De Winter. But the beautiful dream-like writing makes it hard not to fall along with her and feel like she (and you, the reader) got involved into something bigger and stronger than what she can reasonably handle. You begin to feel her anguish and confusion as the people around her all hint at things she doesn’t know, increasing her feeling that she simply doesn’t belong. But just like her, you become consumed with the need to find out what these people know that you don’t…
My recommendation is that you dive in along with her and devour this awesome and haunting novel. I don’t really think it’s romantic anymore (in fact, I find it hilarious that there was ever a version of me who thought this was a love story), but it’s still magnificent, complex and impossible to put down. Rereading it was a great pleasure: I had forgotten how beautiful and atmospheric Du Maurier’s prose was, and it also made me smile to realize how my love for this book had influenced my tastes, how it had become part of my reader’s DNA. If I had to take just a few books with me to a desert island, this one would definitely make the cut.
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I’m going to have a little fit here about the movie. I do not know how to feel about it. Obviously, it doesn’t do the book any justice because so much of that narrator’s voice is conspicuously absent, and Ben Wheatley put a lot of emphasis on the “love story” aspect, which is… an interesting choice. For instance, the movie’s Maxim is a lot closer in age to his new bride, which is both good and bad: it’s good because hot damn, this is serious eye candy, but it’s a little odd because the age difference made the new Mrs. de Winter naturally less experienced and more naïve. Was the age difference reduced because of the current paranoia about power dynamics in sexual relationships? Maxim may be (view spoiler)[ a murderer (hide spoiler)], but at least he’s not twenty years older than his wife…? Shrug. So, no, it’s not Hitchcock. And no, Lily James is not Joan Fontaine, and Armie Hammer is not Laurence Olivier. Maybe my expectations were sky high because I loved Wheatley’s “High-Rise”, but I was expecting an atmosphere that I couldn’t feel, and I wonder how someone who has never read the book or seen another movie version would feel about this one. Seems a shame to make a movie of this arguably perfect story and the most memorable thing about it is the eye candy…...more
It’s one thing to be told by a bunch of people “Oh, this is one of the greatest novels of all times”, and another to be looking up from the novel whenIt’s one thing to be told by a bunch of people “Oh, this is one of the greatest novels of all times”, and another to be looking up from the novel when you are merely ten pages into it and thinking to yourself “Holy shit, this might be one of the greatest novels of all time!”. That didn’t take long, did it?
The only Steinbeck novel I had read was “Of Mice and Men” up until I picked “East of Eden”, despite having a pile of his books sitting on my shelf. Now I am kind of kicking myself for letting them gather dust for so long! I knew that this book contained an incredible story, but I confess I was unprepared for how genuinely pleasurable a read it was. Steinbeck’s prose is passionate, but in no way excessive: I was right with him in the Salinas Valley, completely taken away by the vivid images he conjured without ever feeling bogged down by too many details. The history and psychology of the characters, their experiences and complexities, ring with authenticity. Their voices are strong, flawed, wounded and deeply human.
This book is obviously about family, but more specifically about brothers and mothers, and the strange bonds that run through blood and tie people together. Those bonds are not always love; sometimes they are the bitterest hatred, but they are nevertheless there and can’t be shaken off easily. Some issues are passed down from one generation to the next as surely as eye color, and in this saga, Steinbeck shows how the Trasks gave their children a complex inheritance of sibling rivalries and missing mothers.
“East of Eden” is the story of Adam Trask, how he came to make his way to California, and it eventually becomes the story of his sons. Comparing them to Cain and Abel might be an oversimplification: Cal and Aron Trask are really the second half of this story. The question of good and evil is asked of every character Steinbeck brought to life on the page: some have a rotten core but others are innocent and foolish, and this book is about the intricate repercussions of their actions in their quest for the affection they crave and deserve. There’s also an interesting reflection on how we perceive those close to us, how we are sometimes blind to who they truly are and to why they behave the way they do.
It is impossible not to love Lee, the Chinese “manservant” who looks after Adam and raises the boys. His wit and wisdom, and his complete lucidity about people makes him a treasure of a character. I was also fascinated with Cal and his tortured, yearning soul. His meanness is not a gratuitous thing the way Cathy’s is; it is a symptom of his mother’s absence and his father’s coldness. Obviously, Cathy is a villain, and a horrible one at that, but Adam’s foolish attachment to her ends up causing more damage than she directly did – this is not something I had expected and it proved very thought-provoking and heartbreaking.
The discussion around the Hebrew word "tishmel”, translated as “thou mayest”, is an interesting commentary on the motif of choice: one may very well have horrible parents and carry a part of them in their veins, but it is their choice to let this patrimony take over their actions and reactions. In the end, it doesn’t matter if our mother was a whore or if our father was a thief if we make different choices than they did.
I had seen bits and pieces of the Kazan movie with James Dean, and while it is brilliant, I don’t think the film does the book justice, just because of the scope. Talking about Cal and Aron without explaining where Adam is from and what he went through is just unsatisfying. It limits how far the story reaches, in my opinion. For instance, the chapters about Cathy’s early life are fascinating and chilling, and they never made it to the screen, despite being an important building block of the story.
This is a majestic work of art. If you haven’t read it, go get a copy right now....more
My boyfriend husband and I are currently reading this in the original French as practice for his French classes, and as I go through this little gem fMy boyfriend husband and I are currently reading this in the original French as practice for his French classes, and as I go through this little gem for the umpteenth time, I am still amazed by the gorgeous simplicity of St-Exupéry’s writing, and the charming – and heart-breaking - story of the Little Prince.
It’s hard to review a book like that: I’m not even sure if it really should be shelved as a children’s book, because let’s face it, there is stuff in there that children will only truly understand when they grow up. But that is part of the message of this book: there are things we shouldn’t lose touch with as we grow up.
I laugh as I read some passages, because I often don’t feel like much of a grown-up myself, and just like the narrator, I am highly suspicious of people who behave TOO grown-up. What I learned after I hit 30 is that most adults are still utterly clueless and are winging it just as much as I am, so honestly, who do those people think they are fooling? I haven’t read many reviews that mention the fox, but he is my favorite character, with his gentle self-awareness and slightly wild wisdom.
I only ever read it in French, and I have no idea if the translations are any good. If you do read French, even at a beginner’s level, it’s worth it. My mother had a vinyl audiobook of it, narrated by Gérard Philippe, that I recently got a digital copy of: if anyone knows where I can get a CD or digital copy of that, please hit me: his voice brings the book to life in the most amazing way. Recommended for children, grown-ups and pretend-grown-ups alike....more
I’ll admit right off the bat that it’s not easy to write up a review for “Lolita”: it’s a complicated book, which Nabokov wrote the way he did to messI’ll admit right off the bat that it’s not easy to write up a review for “Lolita”: it’s a complicated book, which Nabokov wrote the way he did to mess with the readers, to play with their judgments, their preconceived ideas and their perceptions. Humbert is one of the most infamously unreliable narrators of modern literature, and whether we chose to believe him or not influences how we, as a reader and human being, react to his confession.
I won’t bore you with a summary of the plot: besides, the plot is not what makes this novel the astonishing book it is. The dark humour, the acrobatic word play, the subversive approach to the topic and the way the author blatantly toys with the readers can’t be captured by a summary, and simply has to be experienced. Not that the experience is always pleasant, mind you: being inside the head of a sexual predator is very unnerving, regardless of how well expressed his thoughts are. And if you can’t stand ambiguity, don’t even bother!
This was my second time reading Nabokov’s infamous masterpiece, and what really struck me this time was that Nabokov’s knowledge of several languages is key to how he wrote. His rhythm, his turn of phrase, the fluidity of the way he uses metaphors are not traditionally English, and make the text as whole sound almost exotic. I was also amused by the innumerable literary references he left all over his stories, like breadcrumbs for avid readers, who can chip away at those for even more meaning, more layers in the lamentable tragedy of little Dolores Haze.
I do admit that I like it a little bit less than I did the first time I read it: it might be because I was already so familiar with the details and dénouement. This is still a remarkable novel that has to be read to be believed – even when it makes you uncomfortable....more
This is a tricky book to review. In terms of literary merit, “Moby Dick” is a really big deal, but it’s also kind of a pain in the ass to read. I’ve rThis is a tricky book to review. In terms of literary merit, “Moby Dick” is a really big deal, but it’s also kind of a pain in the ass to read. I’ve read classics that were like that before: long, in desperate need of an editor armed with a machete, but I usually ended up enjoying them; my favorite example of sacred doorstoppers that I slogged through but ended up loving at the end is “Anna Karenina”. It happens!
But “Moby Dick” was not as rewarding to me as many other books were. I can appreciate it for what it is and what it represents in the grand picture of American literature and literature in general, but I was very frustrated with it because I really really WANTED to like it! Alas...
“Moby Dick” is about so many things: whales (duh), the sea, male friendship, madness. All these things are fascinating themes, but maybe my brain is spoiled by action movies and psychological thrillers because I was really going in there expecting a lot more pathos and lot less practical lessons on harpoons and spermaceti conservation… It wasn’t character and plot driven enough to be a fun read. I settled for it to be an educational one and finished it nonetheless because I have a great respect for the ambition of the work, the clever techniques and the very real beauty of the prose. But I will not be picking it up again…
So 3 stars, because it is a great book. I just didn’t think it was a good one…...more
It has been my experience that while Russians love beautiful ornate things, they don’t like to make their literature too pretty or too perfect or too It has been my experience that while Russians love beautiful ornate things, they don’t like to make their literature too pretty or too perfect or too cheerful. “Anna Karenina” is what seems to me like a very archetypal Russian story because there are no real good guys and no real bad guys. Everyone is human, and therefore stews in a murky shade of grey.
This is the story of an adulterous woman’s fall from grace and into dishonor, and eventually madness. But it’s about so much more than that. It’s about contrasting her behaviour to men’s, and seeing how their lives follows course as if nothing had happened while she is separated from her child and socially ostracized. Double-standards are nothing new under the sun, but the sharp contrast of Anna’s libertine brother and the slap on the wrist his behaviour earns him compared to the agony endured by Anna while Alexei is free to strut around as he pleases is kind of sickening. It’s about how Kitty slowly grows from a girl into a woman after understanding that the glamorous social events she adores are little more than a meat market designed to marry off inconvenient daughters, and that love is about a lot more than sexy officers’ uniforms. It’s about Levin and Kitty’s story vs. Anna and Vronsky’s. The parallel tales are amazingly well-rendered, one being about growth and maturity, the other being superficial and destructive. I love the gauche, introspective Levin, his search for meaning and ultimately, for himself. I love how time and contemplation helps the frivolous Kitty turn into a loving, down-to-earth woman.
Another fascinating character is Alexei Karenin: what a subtle, complex man… Certainly, he is less dashing than Vronsky, but this seems very deliberate, to show that there is more than one way to show one’s love. Did anyone else notice how they both have same first name? I feel like Tolstoy wanted to show them off as two sides of the same coin, men of opposite temperaments who love the same woman and because of their wildly different personalities treat her very differently. Vronsky showers her with attention, but Karenin loves her so much he is ready to forgive anything. I really believe that Tolstoy is a master at characterization, and this alone makes this incredibly long-winded book worth the read.
The symbolism, something a lot of modern writers have lost touch with, is also beautiful. Levin tending his land is in fact him working on himself and learning who he is. The horse race is such a clear metaphor for Anna and Vronsky’s affair. And of course, the book begins and ends with someone dying under a train, bringing the narrative full circle in a wonderfully fatalistic way.
I may go against the grain here, but I don’t think there is much that is feminist about “Anna Karenina”. And I am not just talking about the slightly condescending, paternalistic voice of Tolstoy. Sure, she gives in to her passionate feelings and follows her heart, but she does so with such selfishness and cowardice… She refuses to take responsibilities for her actions and is ultimately always at the mercy of one man or another. I fail to see the female empowerment there, I’m sorry.
That being said, I really enjoyed it. Yes, it needs to be read slowly, and as such, is not a book to be picked up lightly. But I found it to be a rewarding read that has thoroughly earned its reputation as a classic....more
After a frustrating and badly-written historical novel, I needed a serious dose of enjoyable and soothing quality writing: I had been meaning to re-reAfter a frustrating and badly-written historical novel, I needed a serious dose of enjoyable and soothing quality writing: I had been meaning to re-read "Mansfield Park" for some time and it was just what the doctor ordered; after merely twenty pages, I was already smiling from ear to ear. As I enjoyed the witty prose and complicated characters, I found myself wondering why this lovely book is as underrated as it is. I love my Austen novels, but one thing I noticed about them was that with a little bit of time, they all revealed themselves to be a lot more deep and clever than I had originally given them credit for. Fanny certainly wasn't my favorite when I first read this book, but now I'll take her over Emma "Bird Brain" Woodhouse any day. Just like "Persuasion", "Mansfield Park" is a grown-up Austen novel that I feel can be better appreciated after life has knocked you around a little.
"Mansfield Park" has a lot to say about morals, but more specifically about thoughtfulness and empathy, with Fanny being the only character who doesn't suffer from terminal narcissism. I have to wonder if the people who hate this book dislike it because they recognize themselves in one of the Bertrams or Crawfords and feel uncomfortable about it. It can be hard for some people to root for the introvert, but I have grown to appreciate her: she was never shown how to let her colors shine, and if she is meek, it really is because she has been dismissed over and over again but her aunts and cousins. It is hard to feel like you have any value when the people who are supposed to encourage you make you feel like garbage.
If there is anything I loathe in "Mansfield Park", it's the Bertrams' and Aunt Norris' complete lack of family values. Empathy and kindness seems alien to those people, and between Lady Bertram's indolent negligence and Mrs. Norris' penny-pinching, it's no wonder Maria and Julia would be insensitive and oblivious of the consequences of their actions. But as usual with Austen, even the worse characters cannot be completely evil: she gives her readers a detailed portrait of where their behavior comes from, and while she doesn't necessarily want you to forgive them, she nevertheless encourages compassion for them. As she puts it herself, their characters are their own punishments, at the end of the story.
A charming, quiet classic that gets better with time....more
As a child, I remember being quite struck by Roald Dahl’s thoughts on beauty:
“If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when tAs a child, I remember being quite struck by Roald Dahl’s thoughts on beauty:
“If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until it gets so ugly you can hardly bear to look at it. A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.”
This was an important lesson for me in the practice of non-judgment, and as I grew up, I came to see that Dahl had been on to something: no matter how “attractive” some people are, what’s going on inside them shows up on the surface sooner or later – and it’s not always pretty. The first time I read “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, I thought about that quote and wondered what would have happened to this once-innocent and beautiful young man had he fallen under the wing of someone like Dahl instead of someone like that ridiculous Lord Henry.
Just like “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), this is a book about the nauseating duplicity of Victorian society: appearances were truly what mattered, and while people indulged in some of the most self-indulgent behaviours in private, their public persona had to be one of virtue and respectability at all times. This hypocritical lack of morals is both fascinating and repulsive to me, and watching Dorian be corrupted by the decadent hedonism of Henry is like watching a car crash in slow, poetic motion.
I think it is simply human nature to have, at some point, wished that it was possible to indulge in our every whim without fear of consequences. What makes a decent person is the ability to stop and think about the effect such a behaviour might have on others, and then decide what to do. Once Dorian takes a step down that road, why would he stop?
I first read this book many years ago, and I don’t think I had caught the parallels with Goethe’s “Faust” the first time around: Dorian’s deal - with whatever power transferred his guilt and corruption from his body to the painting – is the same deal Dr. Faust made with the devil; and the seduction of Sybil Vane mirrors the seduction (and subsequent death) of Gretchen (or Marguerite) almost perfectly. And obviously, Lord Henry is Wilde’s stand-in for Mephistopheles: he himself does not really commit any immoral acts other than thinking out loud about the new hedonism that Dorian could very well be the poster-boy for, should he have the guts to throw away his moral barometer – he simply sits back and watches the effects of his words on the young man. As I was reading his speeches about sensuality, the supreme importance of beauty over thoughts and other self-indulgent libertine theories, I was reminded of the Buddhist precept against harmful words (often simply phrased to prohibit false speech, this precept often also includes profanities, gossip, insults, etc.). The cruel manipulation of Dorian’s youthful insecurities (seriously: what kind of asshole tells a gorgeous young man one day he’ll be old and gross minutes after his breathtaking portrait has been painted!) is the beginning of quite a chain reaction of suffering.
I thought a lot about what point Wilde wanted to get to with this novel. The fleetingness of beauty and innocence? The real price of depravity? The double standards of the era, that praised his work but condemned him to imprisonment for his sexual orientation (though that happened after the book was published)? That our bad actions' marks will never really be erased? I'm still not sure...
4 and a half stars rounded up, for an always entertaining and thought-provoking classic!...more
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