David Nicholls - One Day
The hype around this book made my expectations very high. I was sick of stepping onto the train in the morning and literally seeing half the carriage readin it, and I was even more sick of hearing my friends talk about how the film version is not as good as the book and Anne Hathaway's northern accent is just terrible (really, did you expect anything different?!)
Hence, having read a fair few romantic drama comedy's in my time, I was expecting this one to be really different. I was expecting some sort of ecclectic mix of true deep intimacy found in the classics and the funnier ridiculous natural scenes you experience in chic lit. I was disappointed on both counts. I think it would have been better had I come to read this book having never heard of it before. Honestly, I have come to conclusion that the only innovative thing about this story is the way it is told. The idea is the same - university sweethearts who are entirely different people and pulled apart by circumstances, inwardly struggling to be together. Because of course at university you meet so many people who are nothing like you............... I think most people tend to become the best friends with others who are actually rather like them, having just left university. One of my best friends is pretty much my double - we are two sides of the same coin. I do have friends who are nothing like me too who I met in Manchester, but I am much closer to the ones who are like me - the ones who I don't have to constantly justify or explain myself to or argue with. I think that's where the antagonism between the characters comes from in this novel - it's not because they are lovers who are struggling against their true feelings; that's far too obvious. They are struggling against the differences in each other which they hate yet love. Their differences is what makes them interesting.
This is hardly a new concept - the freshness comes only from the composition of the novel, which gives are flash points on the same day every year throughout a 20 year period. Indeed, this is one part of the book which I would praise; at no point did I think "god there's just been a massive leap in time and I don't understand what's gone on in between". Nor did I ever think "what a pointless descriptive paragraph just to keep the reader up to speed with the facts that the author has purposely ommitted". The jumps in time were seamless, and the catch up paragraphs were so well integrated into the overall text and story that at no point did the plot stutter in fluidity.
I had a problem connecting with the characters also. I hated Dexter. I'm not sure if we're supposed to hate him, but I really did. I found him arrogant and obnoxious and completely self centred. His personality was just abhorrent. In the beginning, I honestly thought Emma was an absolute IDIOT for maintaining her friendship with him, and honestly the only reason she did because he was so "handsome". I liked Emma more, I found her a much more believable character, although I thought she was lazy. I've worked in a restaurant which, from the sounds of it, is just like the one she wasted several of her best years in, when she could actually have been accomplishing something in. She got stuck in a rut and I think the author could have done much more with her life than just define her by her relationships and her job. Emma was far less motivated and strong than she considered herself to be.
If you don't want the end of the book spoiled for you, don't read on.
The ending was by far the worst part. Emma's death was just such a lame way to end it. It excused the author from having to really think about what Emma and Dexter's life would have been like together, how their contrasting and conflicting personalities actually would have conjoined into one marital unit. This would perhaps have been a much more interesting endeavour, rather than analysing how Dexter coped on his own without Emma as his crutch. I also like to think that some people want a book to have a happy ending - because despite all the divorce and heartbreak and adultery there undoubtedly is in the world, there ARE happy people out there too. It seems that people would rather have an unfulfilling and predictable ending than a happy one; there must be a lot of depressed people on my train in the morning!
Overall, disappointing. Makes a good holiday read but nothing more than that.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Allison Pearson - I Don't Know How She Does It
Allison Pearson - I Don't Know How She Does It
I saw an advert for the new film starring Sarah Jessica Parker when I went to see Something Borrowed, and decided to investigate this story a bit further, especially considering the hype and feminist debate the release of the film created. I resolved not to see the film because it irritated me that yet again an original story set in London had been relocated to America! I love Boston - I lived there for four months of my life - but it's not London. I felt the same annoyance when Confessions of a Shopaholic was transferred to New York, when the whole point of the second book is that she (an English girl) falls in love with an American and they MOVE to New York. Destroyed the ability to make a sequel anyway. So, I decided to buy the book, in fact I actually bought it on impulse when I had a couple of hours to kill in a Starbucks in London before my shift started at work.
I perhaps expected great things. I think it's probably highly likely that my future position will be rather similar to Kate Reddy's, because I too want both a family and a high power career - although I'm hoping my future husband would also have a well paid job so I won't shoulder the financial burden like Reddy does in this novel. I was looking for inspiration, some sort of indication that it is possible to do both and be good at both.
Perhaps it is better to start purely from the story, which I enjoyed. I thought it was engaging, if a little predictable - an almost-affair with an exciting foreigner, a high pressure middle class environment - and I suppose I quite liked how this book gave a glimpse into both the work life and home life of the character. Also, really interesting was how different the male characters were in each scenario, and in fact the most endearing male in the whole book is Reddy's boss. Indeed, the most moving part of the book (I think), concerns this character and his home life. But Reddy's relationship with her children also really touched me. There were moments where I could actually relate to the children too - I was once a little girl who wanted to rewind Sleeping Beauty so I could stop Aurora frm pricking her finger on the spinning wheel and falling to the evil evil Malificent (still must be THE MOST evil Disney villain ever, enough to strike fear into every little girl). The characters were dynamic; the only development criticism I would have is that Pearson could have made so much more of Reddy's wider familial relationships. I particularly would have liked to see more of her husband's condescending sister, although the author perhaps decided to make more of the non-working power mothers in order to fill this role, and indeed it was done rather well. In fact, I really hated the power mothers. And I hated the way, from a young person's point of view, that Emily's future was being pressured and planned already, when she was only 5! Poor child. The pressures of the modern education system and getting in to a good secondary school (something myself and my parents can still easily recall) were portrayed very well. It was the underwriting nuances in this book which made it a good read, in terms of the story. I particularly liked Momo, the younger woman in the book who Reddy originally passes off but eventually (if reluctantly initially) takes under her wing. I think I probably share this character's naivety and opinions far more than Reddy's.
So, where was my disappointment? I've got to say... it was the ending. In fact, it wasn't even the ending, it was the fact that throughout the book the work-family dichotomy was presented as a choice. Perhaps I'm being naive, or perhaps I am so focused on the career side of that equation that the family part doesn't occur to me too much, but it annoyed me that Reddy was always under pressure from someone to make a choice. Why should it be a choice? Does it have to be a choice?! I didn't find Reddy's eventual choice very uplifting; one extreme lifestyle was swapped for another, and perhaps that's how this book should be read - as a battle of the extremes. Is Reddy's conscience and guilt one that I will encounter in the future? Does doing a job that you relish; enjoy; get an absolute adrenalin rush from, just become a guilty burdenous load the moment your life becomes not just for yourself but for your children too?
At the time, I read an interesting article in the Guardian which I would refer anyone who has an interest in the subject to, click here. This article raises some of the issues I wish Pearson had dealt with, or I wish she had dealt with in a little more detail. I very often felt that Pearson was on the brink of conveying something really significant and revolutionary but then backed away, or tempered it by having Reddy feel sorry for her husband, or burden her with a dollop of motherly guilt. And I kept asking myself, why isn't there any fatherly guilt? Has anyone even raised this concept? Do father's feel guilty for the fact that a) there are children out there who only see their fathers in the early/late hours of the day and at weekends and b) that their wives are at home perhaps not following their own dreams or career aspirations or desires? Indeed, I think another pitfall of the novel is that you never really know enough about Reddy's husband. Maybe that's the point - to show that she doesn't really know him anymore. I'm sure there are many women who are wholly satisfied with remaining at home with their children; and I don't condemn that at all. I think it's brilliant. But there are women out there who are not satisfied. How do their husbands feel? Are they satisfied? Do they know whether their children like brocolli or not? Or are we still stuck in the traditional interpretation that the male in the family is the breadwinner and the female's role is in the home, and if that is the make up in the family then all is well, but if the opposite occurs then the family is odd, an anomaly?! Parenthood should be a 50/50 endeavour, but judging by this book, it's not, because there is never any indication of how the working father figure deals with this. Indeed, the only time this issue is tackled even slightly in the novel is when Reddy's boss is literally forced to consider it.
Honestly, I think my reading of this book was tainted by the fact that it didn't give me the answers or the interpretation I wanted from it. But perhaps that is something I will have to learn in my future.
I saw an advert for the new film starring Sarah Jessica Parker when I went to see Something Borrowed, and decided to investigate this story a bit further, especially considering the hype and feminist debate the release of the film created. I resolved not to see the film because it irritated me that yet again an original story set in London had been relocated to America! I love Boston - I lived there for four months of my life - but it's not London. I felt the same annoyance when Confessions of a Shopaholic was transferred to New York, when the whole point of the second book is that she (an English girl) falls in love with an American and they MOVE to New York. Destroyed the ability to make a sequel anyway. So, I decided to buy the book, in fact I actually bought it on impulse when I had a couple of hours to kill in a Starbucks in London before my shift started at work.
I perhaps expected great things. I think it's probably highly likely that my future position will be rather similar to Kate Reddy's, because I too want both a family and a high power career - although I'm hoping my future husband would also have a well paid job so I won't shoulder the financial burden like Reddy does in this novel. I was looking for inspiration, some sort of indication that it is possible to do both and be good at both.
Perhaps it is better to start purely from the story, which I enjoyed. I thought it was engaging, if a little predictable - an almost-affair with an exciting foreigner, a high pressure middle class environment - and I suppose I quite liked how this book gave a glimpse into both the work life and home life of the character. Also, really interesting was how different the male characters were in each scenario, and in fact the most endearing male in the whole book is Reddy's boss. Indeed, the most moving part of the book (I think), concerns this character and his home life. But Reddy's relationship with her children also really touched me. There were moments where I could actually relate to the children too - I was once a little girl who wanted to rewind Sleeping Beauty so I could stop Aurora frm pricking her finger on the spinning wheel and falling to the evil evil Malificent (still must be THE MOST evil Disney villain ever, enough to strike fear into every little girl). The characters were dynamic; the only development criticism I would have is that Pearson could have made so much more of Reddy's wider familial relationships. I particularly would have liked to see more of her husband's condescending sister, although the author perhaps decided to make more of the non-working power mothers in order to fill this role, and indeed it was done rather well. In fact, I really hated the power mothers. And I hated the way, from a young person's point of view, that Emily's future was being pressured and planned already, when she was only 5! Poor child. The pressures of the modern education system and getting in to a good secondary school (something myself and my parents can still easily recall) were portrayed very well. It was the underwriting nuances in this book which made it a good read, in terms of the story. I particularly liked Momo, the younger woman in the book who Reddy originally passes off but eventually (if reluctantly initially) takes under her wing. I think I probably share this character's naivety and opinions far more than Reddy's.
So, where was my disappointment? I've got to say... it was the ending. In fact, it wasn't even the ending, it was the fact that throughout the book the work-family dichotomy was presented as a choice. Perhaps I'm being naive, or perhaps I am so focused on the career side of that equation that the family part doesn't occur to me too much, but it annoyed me that Reddy was always under pressure from someone to make a choice. Why should it be a choice? Does it have to be a choice?! I didn't find Reddy's eventual choice very uplifting; one extreme lifestyle was swapped for another, and perhaps that's how this book should be read - as a battle of the extremes. Is Reddy's conscience and guilt one that I will encounter in the future? Does doing a job that you relish; enjoy; get an absolute adrenalin rush from, just become a guilty burdenous load the moment your life becomes not just for yourself but for your children too?
At the time, I read an interesting article in the Guardian which I would refer anyone who has an interest in the subject to, click here. This article raises some of the issues I wish Pearson had dealt with, or I wish she had dealt with in a little more detail. I very often felt that Pearson was on the brink of conveying something really significant and revolutionary but then backed away, or tempered it by having Reddy feel sorry for her husband, or burden her with a dollop of motherly guilt. And I kept asking myself, why isn't there any fatherly guilt? Has anyone even raised this concept? Do father's feel guilty for the fact that a) there are children out there who only see their fathers in the early/late hours of the day and at weekends and b) that their wives are at home perhaps not following their own dreams or career aspirations or desires? Indeed, I think another pitfall of the novel is that you never really know enough about Reddy's husband. Maybe that's the point - to show that she doesn't really know him anymore. I'm sure there are many women who are wholly satisfied with remaining at home with their children; and I don't condemn that at all. I think it's brilliant. But there are women out there who are not satisfied. How do their husbands feel? Are they satisfied? Do they know whether their children like brocolli or not? Or are we still stuck in the traditional interpretation that the male in the family is the breadwinner and the female's role is in the home, and if that is the make up in the family then all is well, but if the opposite occurs then the family is odd, an anomaly?! Parenthood should be a 50/50 endeavour, but judging by this book, it's not, because there is never any indication of how the working father figure deals with this. Indeed, the only time this issue is tackled even slightly in the novel is when Reddy's boss is literally forced to consider it.
Honestly, I think my reading of this book was tainted by the fact that it didn't give me the answers or the interpretation I wanted from it. But perhaps that is something I will have to learn in my future.
Bret Easton Ellis - Less Than Zero/Imperial Bedrooms
Bret Easton Ellis - Less Than Zero/Imperial Bedrooms
One of my favourite books I have ever read (and the screen adaption too, Christian Bale is simply stunning and it's a brilliant picture) is American Psycho. I've never been so gripped by a book. I've read it three times, and in my own copy I have notes in the margin... inner geek!
So, when I heard Easton Ellis had a new book coming out in Spring 2011, I knew I had to get it. I saw Imperial Bedrooms advertised on the side of a black cab near Liverpool Street station in London, and I eagerly looked it up! I then realised that this new book was in fact a sequel of one of his books which I had not yet read, named Less Than Zero. And since it obviously makes logical sense to read the original before the sequel, this is what I did.
Less Than Zero is Easton Ellis' first novel, so I was keen to read it and uncover where the literary genius of this man began. Both of these books are relatively short, and because of my admiration for the author and zeal to read them, I devoured them both. If you're not reading Easton Ellis impulsively, then as far as I'm concerned you're not reading them properly! I had finished them within 2 days of starting.
Less Than Zero is a brilliant piece of work for a debut novel, and was rightly recognised so at the time of it's publication. Undoubtedly his technique and style have improved over time, and perhaps because I came to this novel from reading his most accomplished work I was bound to find the style slightly more primitive, simply because I knew full well what he is capable of. One thing I really love about Easton Ellis is the continuity of his characters. Rules of Attraction and American Psycho revolve around the same family but are entirely different in content and style, and I was delighted to discover that some of the characters in Less Than Zero reappear in American Psycho. Admittedly, there could have been a little more development; I felt the book was very dialogue and psychologically focused, by which I mean when the characters weren't speaking it felt like you were stuck in their heads. I've never been to LA and I wasn't alive in the 1980s, so this perhaps hindered my appreciation of the scene.
There wasn't much plot either, but I think that is the point. Everyone thinks that rich teenagers in America, especially in California (and now New York thanks to Gossip Girl!) have the life. Everyone wants to be like them, dress like them, and thinks their lives are endlessly dramatic and therefore completely consuming and interesting to the outside eye. But, as depicted in Less Than Zero, it is all actually pretty monotonous. Countless parties, drugs, sex, and controversy do surround these people, but never at any point when I was reading Less Than Zero did I think "god I wish I knew people who had parties like this" or "I wish I was there". I think things that may well have shocked the original audience when it was first published fell a little short for me because I know Easton Ellis gets very much more controversial and outrageous in his later publications. But I still really enjoyed the read, and can see why it was so ground breaking and well reviewed when it came out.
I immediately moved on to read Imperial Bedrooms. This is set several years in the future, and you are kind of shocked to see who has ended up with who, what they are all doing, and in the end you realise that not only are they all exactly the same (haven't changed one teensy little bit!) but also that it's still a boring life that they lead. What maintains main character Clay's intensity and interest is the fact that he has left LA, and been somewhere else, and what he comes back to is a bit of a disaster zone. Having said all this, I feel like I can't really give a good review of this book yet, because as much as I enjoyed it I read it extremely quickly, and I feel I would definitely benefit from a second reading.
The plot in this later installment is significantly more enthralling, perhaps showing how teenage dramatics mature with age and become actually dangerous situations with real concequences. A metaphor for what happens when you do grow up and become responsible for your actions. Easton Ellis' accomplished writing style also makes it an easier read than the prequel, and there are a great number of fantastic lyrical flourishes. It is a very comfortable read, even though the subject matter in question is extremely uncomfortable. The ending puzzled me slightly also, which is why I shall definitely be returning to this book. I really enjoyed it though, and I would recommend reading them in conjunction with one another if you haven't read Less Than Zero already.
I think American Psycho will always remain Easton Ellis' masterpiece.
One of my favourite books I have ever read (and the screen adaption too, Christian Bale is simply stunning and it's a brilliant picture) is American Psycho. I've never been so gripped by a book. I've read it three times, and in my own copy I have notes in the margin... inner geek!
So, when I heard Easton Ellis had a new book coming out in Spring 2011, I knew I had to get it. I saw Imperial Bedrooms advertised on the side of a black cab near Liverpool Street station in London, and I eagerly looked it up! I then realised that this new book was in fact a sequel of one of his books which I had not yet read, named Less Than Zero. And since it obviously makes logical sense to read the original before the sequel, this is what I did.
Less Than Zero is Easton Ellis' first novel, so I was keen to read it and uncover where the literary genius of this man began. Both of these books are relatively short, and because of my admiration for the author and zeal to read them, I devoured them both. If you're not reading Easton Ellis impulsively, then as far as I'm concerned you're not reading them properly! I had finished them within 2 days of starting.
Less Than Zero is a brilliant piece of work for a debut novel, and was rightly recognised so at the time of it's publication. Undoubtedly his technique and style have improved over time, and perhaps because I came to this novel from reading his most accomplished work I was bound to find the style slightly more primitive, simply because I knew full well what he is capable of. One thing I really love about Easton Ellis is the continuity of his characters. Rules of Attraction and American Psycho revolve around the same family but are entirely different in content and style, and I was delighted to discover that some of the characters in Less Than Zero reappear in American Psycho. Admittedly, there could have been a little more development; I felt the book was very dialogue and psychologically focused, by which I mean when the characters weren't speaking it felt like you were stuck in their heads. I've never been to LA and I wasn't alive in the 1980s, so this perhaps hindered my appreciation of the scene.
There wasn't much plot either, but I think that is the point. Everyone thinks that rich teenagers in America, especially in California (and now New York thanks to Gossip Girl!) have the life. Everyone wants to be like them, dress like them, and thinks their lives are endlessly dramatic and therefore completely consuming and interesting to the outside eye. But, as depicted in Less Than Zero, it is all actually pretty monotonous. Countless parties, drugs, sex, and controversy do surround these people, but never at any point when I was reading Less Than Zero did I think "god I wish I knew people who had parties like this" or "I wish I was there". I think things that may well have shocked the original audience when it was first published fell a little short for me because I know Easton Ellis gets very much more controversial and outrageous in his later publications. But I still really enjoyed the read, and can see why it was so ground breaking and well reviewed when it came out.
I immediately moved on to read Imperial Bedrooms. This is set several years in the future, and you are kind of shocked to see who has ended up with who, what they are all doing, and in the end you realise that not only are they all exactly the same (haven't changed one teensy little bit!) but also that it's still a boring life that they lead. What maintains main character Clay's intensity and interest is the fact that he has left LA, and been somewhere else, and what he comes back to is a bit of a disaster zone. Having said all this, I feel like I can't really give a good review of this book yet, because as much as I enjoyed it I read it extremely quickly, and I feel I would definitely benefit from a second reading.
The plot in this later installment is significantly more enthralling, perhaps showing how teenage dramatics mature with age and become actually dangerous situations with real concequences. A metaphor for what happens when you do grow up and become responsible for your actions. Easton Ellis' accomplished writing style also makes it an easier read than the prequel, and there are a great number of fantastic lyrical flourishes. It is a very comfortable read, even though the subject matter in question is extremely uncomfortable. The ending puzzled me slightly also, which is why I shall definitely be returning to this book. I really enjoyed it though, and I would recommend reading them in conjunction with one another if you haven't read Less Than Zero already.
I think American Psycho will always remain Easton Ellis' masterpiece.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Ayn Rand - The Fountainhead
Ayn Rand - The Fountainhead
I started this book in December 2010. I finally finished it in August 2011. It was an absolute MISSION, and by the end of it I was just reading it so I could say I did - I finished this book. It certainly felt like an accomplishment by the end. I feel strangely satisfied.
It was a horrible book. I think anyone who doesn't quite agree with the philosophy Rand espouses will find this a hard read. Honestly, that all washed over me, and in a way I wish I had done some research on her views before I began the read. According to Wikipedia,
"Objectivism holds that reality exists independent of consciousness, that human beings have direct contact with reality through sense perception, that one can attain objective knowledge from perception through the process of concept formation and inductive logic, that the proper moral purpose of one's life is the pursuit of one's own happiness or rational self-interest, that the only social system consistent with this morality is full respect for individual rights, embodied in laissez faire capitalism, and that the role of art in human life is to transform man's widest metaphysical ideas, by selective reproduction of reality, into a physical form—a work of art—that one can comprehend and to which he can respond emotionally".
See the full article here.
Now, having read that, I not only agree with some parts, but I can also see exactly where it comes out in the book. But I'm not sure that means I would have enjoyed it any more. There were moments of sheer brilliance; passages about things like worrying or living in New York City or something, which I absolutely loved. The trouble was that these were flanked by endless amounts of texts which was complex for complexity's sake. Honestly, I didn't understand a lot of it, and I think this inhibited my enjoyment. The book is split into sections, one for each main character I suppose, and I liked the first section, Peter Keating. I found this character accessible - in fact, I totally empathised with his quest to gain employment with a corporate giant because that's exactly what I've done in my life (although, I'd like to think I maintain a bit of Roark's individualism as well!).
Unfortunately, the main downfall of the book for me was Ellsworth Toohey. I have never disliked, maybe even HATED, a character in a novel as much as I did this man. Vast amounts of the book are given over to very very long philosophical musings from Toohey. I'm not sure whether we're meant to like Toohey, or if the reader is supposed to find him self-indulgent, arrogant, and so intellectually advanced that one would have to have a phd to even attempt to understand every passage of his in the book. It's kind of funny that the only character I really liked within the whole book was Keating, who is supposed to be an absolute whelp! Dominique Francon was perhaps the most frustrating character. She seemed to be a strong female at the beginning, I was quite intimidated by her and so were the men in the book. But she was quickly defined by the men in her life - Keating, Roark and Wynand - and in the end she did everything for Roark... she has no individual feminine motive, it's all based around a man. I don't even want to try to describe or understand Roark... he didn't confine himself to the status quo, he was individualistic, he wanted to change the mould. Commendable, yes. But I still didn't like it.
I have achieved something in finishing this. But I won't be recommending it to anyone. I might even warn people off it if asked.
I started this book in December 2010. I finally finished it in August 2011. It was an absolute MISSION, and by the end of it I was just reading it so I could say I did - I finished this book. It certainly felt like an accomplishment by the end. I feel strangely satisfied.
It was a horrible book. I think anyone who doesn't quite agree with the philosophy Rand espouses will find this a hard read. Honestly, that all washed over me, and in a way I wish I had done some research on her views before I began the read. According to Wikipedia,
"Objectivism holds that reality exists independent of consciousness, that human beings have direct contact with reality through sense perception, that one can attain objective knowledge from perception through the process of concept formation and inductive logic, that the proper moral purpose of one's life is the pursuit of one's own happiness or rational self-interest, that the only social system consistent with this morality is full respect for individual rights, embodied in laissez faire capitalism, and that the role of art in human life is to transform man's widest metaphysical ideas, by selective reproduction of reality, into a physical form—a work of art—that one can comprehend and to which he can respond emotionally".
See the full article here.
Now, having read that, I not only agree with some parts, but I can also see exactly where it comes out in the book. But I'm not sure that means I would have enjoyed it any more. There were moments of sheer brilliance; passages about things like worrying or living in New York City or something, which I absolutely loved. The trouble was that these were flanked by endless amounts of texts which was complex for complexity's sake. Honestly, I didn't understand a lot of it, and I think this inhibited my enjoyment. The book is split into sections, one for each main character I suppose, and I liked the first section, Peter Keating. I found this character accessible - in fact, I totally empathised with his quest to gain employment with a corporate giant because that's exactly what I've done in my life (although, I'd like to think I maintain a bit of Roark's individualism as well!).
Unfortunately, the main downfall of the book for me was Ellsworth Toohey. I have never disliked, maybe even HATED, a character in a novel as much as I did this man. Vast amounts of the book are given over to very very long philosophical musings from Toohey. I'm not sure whether we're meant to like Toohey, or if the reader is supposed to find him self-indulgent, arrogant, and so intellectually advanced that one would have to have a phd to even attempt to understand every passage of his in the book. It's kind of funny that the only character I really liked within the whole book was Keating, who is supposed to be an absolute whelp! Dominique Francon was perhaps the most frustrating character. She seemed to be a strong female at the beginning, I was quite intimidated by her and so were the men in the book. But she was quickly defined by the men in her life - Keating, Roark and Wynand - and in the end she did everything for Roark... she has no individual feminine motive, it's all based around a man. I don't even want to try to describe or understand Roark... he didn't confine himself to the status quo, he was individualistic, he wanted to change the mould. Commendable, yes. But I still didn't like it.
I have achieved something in finishing this. But I won't be recommending it to anyone. I might even warn people off it if asked.
John Fowles - The Collector
John Fowles - The Collector
I bought this book because the characters drew from The Tempest. The Tempest is my favourite Shakespeare play (of the ones I have seen and read anyway). I did it for English Literature A Level and I just loved the characters and how each character spoke differently - particularly Ariel and Prospero. I've never seen a performance of it though, I keep wishing the Globe will but I don't think they are going to next year. I'll have to make a special effort to see one next season - this summer Ray Fiennes was in a production at the Haymarket but I didn't get on the ticket case quick enough. Luckily though, my friend bought be a 1942 edition Complete Works for my birthday last year and The Tempest is the first play in it!
Anyway, this book is rather different, and I guess the similarities are in the scenario and the character's names. Miranda is the female hostage, and she sees her kidnapper as Caliban, whereas he sees himself as Ferdinand - he even tells her to call him Ferdinand even though that's not his name. These intricacies will be appreciated by the informed reader, but the book itself has a danger of alienating anyone who doesn't know The Tempest well.
The book is divided up by both the characters and writing styles - Ferdinand's pieces are rather dull, and simple, and very to the point. Utilitarian. The feelings are there but they are not embellished. It's all quite one dimensional, so sometimes it can feel a bit slow. However, despite conveying Ferdinand in this style Fowles does very well to make sure the reader still gets to know Ferdinand quite well. He's not alienated from the reader - his thoughts are accessible. In fact, in a stange way his actions are accessible, even though they are in absolutely no way approvable! He is innocent like Caliban, but besotted like Ferdinand. I guess the character doesn't know real love - he's a virgin, a baby, who hasn't developed properly, like Caliban, yet he tries to woo Miranda as if he were Ferdinand. It's an interesting take on the male psyche.
Miranda is actually more philosophical and flamboyant in her chapters, Fowles seems to take on the female mind well although by the end of her part of the book I actually didn't like her very much. She seemed frivolous, and infatuated with this older man - GH, if I remember rightly - who quite frankly is an absolute arsehole! But, at 18, that is the kind of men you're attracted to isn't it?- those who seem mature and confident and intelligent. Despite this, I felt so sorry for her throughout the novel, she was so trapped and stunted, I could really imagine the kind of room she was kept in because Fowles sets the scene so well. Miranda's passages also reflect her artistic nature, which puts her into stark contrast with Ferdinand. They say opposites attract... in this book, they don't.
I think Ferdinand's character could be better developed, but it was a very good read - definitely a riveting story. Although it is relatively pedestrian (set in London, and around Lewes area, somewhere I know quiet well actually) this made it easy to picture in my mind, which meant I could just get on with reading it and embracing the story and the text. A bit more sexual content might have spiced it up a bit, but I think the omission of this was part of Fowles's plan - Ferdinand is never satisfied despite what he is offered, he doesn't really know what to do with Miranda when she plays up to her prison guard. The character dynamics were very impressive. A good read overall, not sure I'd recommend it to someone unless I was completely sure of their tastes because I don't think everyone would enjoy it.
I bought this book because the characters drew from The Tempest. The Tempest is my favourite Shakespeare play (of the ones I have seen and read anyway). I did it for English Literature A Level and I just loved the characters and how each character spoke differently - particularly Ariel and Prospero. I've never seen a performance of it though, I keep wishing the Globe will but I don't think they are going to next year. I'll have to make a special effort to see one next season - this summer Ray Fiennes was in a production at the Haymarket but I didn't get on the ticket case quick enough. Luckily though, my friend bought be a 1942 edition Complete Works for my birthday last year and The Tempest is the first play in it!
Anyway, this book is rather different, and I guess the similarities are in the scenario and the character's names. Miranda is the female hostage, and she sees her kidnapper as Caliban, whereas he sees himself as Ferdinand - he even tells her to call him Ferdinand even though that's not his name. These intricacies will be appreciated by the informed reader, but the book itself has a danger of alienating anyone who doesn't know The Tempest well.
The book is divided up by both the characters and writing styles - Ferdinand's pieces are rather dull, and simple, and very to the point. Utilitarian. The feelings are there but they are not embellished. It's all quite one dimensional, so sometimes it can feel a bit slow. However, despite conveying Ferdinand in this style Fowles does very well to make sure the reader still gets to know Ferdinand quite well. He's not alienated from the reader - his thoughts are accessible. In fact, in a stange way his actions are accessible, even though they are in absolutely no way approvable! He is innocent like Caliban, but besotted like Ferdinand. I guess the character doesn't know real love - he's a virgin, a baby, who hasn't developed properly, like Caliban, yet he tries to woo Miranda as if he were Ferdinand. It's an interesting take on the male psyche.
Miranda is actually more philosophical and flamboyant in her chapters, Fowles seems to take on the female mind well although by the end of her part of the book I actually didn't like her very much. She seemed frivolous, and infatuated with this older man - GH, if I remember rightly - who quite frankly is an absolute arsehole! But, at 18, that is the kind of men you're attracted to isn't it?- those who seem mature and confident and intelligent. Despite this, I felt so sorry for her throughout the novel, she was so trapped and stunted, I could really imagine the kind of room she was kept in because Fowles sets the scene so well. Miranda's passages also reflect her artistic nature, which puts her into stark contrast with Ferdinand. They say opposites attract... in this book, they don't.
I think Ferdinand's character could be better developed, but it was a very good read - definitely a riveting story. Although it is relatively pedestrian (set in London, and around Lewes area, somewhere I know quiet well actually) this made it easy to picture in my mind, which meant I could just get on with reading it and embracing the story and the text. A bit more sexual content might have spiced it up a bit, but I think the omission of this was part of Fowles's plan - Ferdinand is never satisfied despite what he is offered, he doesn't really know what to do with Miranda when she plays up to her prison guard. The character dynamics were very impressive. A good read overall, not sure I'd recommend it to someone unless I was completely sure of their tastes because I don't think everyone would enjoy it.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Audrey Niffenegger - Her Fearful Symmetry
Audrey Niffenegger - Her Fearful Symmetry
Having read the Time Traveler's Wife, I was expecting a lot from this book. The characters in TTW are meaningful and believable despite the supernatural context to the story. The female character, Clare, is so strong in that book, and I'm always a fan of strong female characters, but her will to have a child and fighting spirit is also very inspiring. The book is extremely well written, the story compelling and by the end of it I was in absolute floods of tears. I refused to watch the film version for a while because I knew how upsetting it would be.
This novel, however, disappointed me. The characters were not well developed enough, but especially Elspeth and Edie. So much more time could have been spent on their childhood - in fact, and this is a rare criticism, had the book been double the length it may have been better. Perhaps Niffenegger was told by her editors to keep it to a similar length to her previous publication, but the plot and character development especially could have benefitted from a few more chapters. More time could also have been spent on the elder generation - Edie, Elspeth and Jack, than Julia and Valentina. So all in all the balance between the characters wasn't quite right for me. I found the twis both extremely irritating, maybe because neither of them embodied the strong female I was so hoping would reappear. Julia maybe could have been, but she just came across as bossy and insensitive, not a very likeable character. I guess my problem is that I read books and unless a character is identified as being bad or obnoxious, ie I'm not supposed to like them, I always want to like the characters. So when I don't it changes the reading experience for me.
That said, it was generally a good story, and I enjoyed it being set in London. It was a bit cold towards the end, although I felt a death was inevitable, but I came to dislike Elspeth more than I ever expected to by the end, simply for her selfishness. I also felt the section where the complicated exchange between Edie and Elspeth in their earlier life could have been explained better - I read it several times and still had to write it down to get my head around it. Very imaginative plotline, but the ending felt like a bit of an empty climax. I also found myself wishing that I lived in the girls' flat - what a fabulous place to live in London! One day maybe I will!
I feel like maybe Niffenegger was either caged in or slightly lazy in certain passages, because there are undoubtedly flashes of brilliance, but they are flanked by normal, occasionally mediocre writing. If you can't decide which to read, in my opinion Time Traveler's Wife is definitely better.
Also, if you're wondering why these reviews are appearing quite frequently and thinking "gosh she can't be reading all of these this quickly", I'm not! I have a few reviews stocked up from earlier this year because I've been wanting to do this for a while, so now I'm uploading my back catalogue!
Having read the Time Traveler's Wife, I was expecting a lot from this book. The characters in TTW are meaningful and believable despite the supernatural context to the story. The female character, Clare, is so strong in that book, and I'm always a fan of strong female characters, but her will to have a child and fighting spirit is also very inspiring. The book is extremely well written, the story compelling and by the end of it I was in absolute floods of tears. I refused to watch the film version for a while because I knew how upsetting it would be.
This novel, however, disappointed me. The characters were not well developed enough, but especially Elspeth and Edie. So much more time could have been spent on their childhood - in fact, and this is a rare criticism, had the book been double the length it may have been better. Perhaps Niffenegger was told by her editors to keep it to a similar length to her previous publication, but the plot and character development especially could have benefitted from a few more chapters. More time could also have been spent on the elder generation - Edie, Elspeth and Jack, than Julia and Valentina. So all in all the balance between the characters wasn't quite right for me. I found the twis both extremely irritating, maybe because neither of them embodied the strong female I was so hoping would reappear. Julia maybe could have been, but she just came across as bossy and insensitive, not a very likeable character. I guess my problem is that I read books and unless a character is identified as being bad or obnoxious, ie I'm not supposed to like them, I always want to like the characters. So when I don't it changes the reading experience for me.
That said, it was generally a good story, and I enjoyed it being set in London. It was a bit cold towards the end, although I felt a death was inevitable, but I came to dislike Elspeth more than I ever expected to by the end, simply for her selfishness. I also felt the section where the complicated exchange between Edie and Elspeth in their earlier life could have been explained better - I read it several times and still had to write it down to get my head around it. Very imaginative plotline, but the ending felt like a bit of an empty climax. I also found myself wishing that I lived in the girls' flat - what a fabulous place to live in London! One day maybe I will!
I feel like maybe Niffenegger was either caged in or slightly lazy in certain passages, because there are undoubtedly flashes of brilliance, but they are flanked by normal, occasionally mediocre writing. If you can't decide which to read, in my opinion Time Traveler's Wife is definitely better.
Also, if you're wondering why these reviews are appearing quite frequently and thinking "gosh she can't be reading all of these this quickly", I'm not! I have a few reviews stocked up from earlier this year because I've been wanting to do this for a while, so now I'm uploading my back catalogue!
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Ian McEwan - Atonement
Ian McEwan - Atonement
This is the easiest book I have read in a long time. And not because it was a simple plot or had a simple vocabulary or was written for simple minds. It was simple because it is just so brilliantly written. I don't want to refer to films too much in this blog but I think it probably helps that I've seen the film so know the story and the characters slightly - helps me put a face to a name, even if it is the face of an actor. In this case, I think seeing the film allowed me to appreciate the writing skill and language and imagery a little more, because I wasn't having to concentrate on the plot so much.
The story is engaging and the characters are utterly believable. I can believe the malice and jealousy with which Briony concocts her horrendous tale. I've been a little girl, and when you're that age everything feels one thousand times more intense than it actually is. When you first read what happens you don't believe that something like a lie (albeit an awful one) can rock people's lives and destroy relationships in the way McEwan has written it. It's written in such a sensitive a way; I felt sorry for all of the characters at one point in the book, even Briony. I fund Cecilia a bit harder to relate to but the love between her and Robbie is so pure, you're just WISHING that it all works out for them. I know it's cliche and life doesn't always give us happy endings, but I wanted a happy ending so badly.
A brilliant brilliant read I would thoroughly recommend to anyone. Honestly I believe it deserves all it's accolades. The heat of the summer at the beginning of the book is conveyed through the words, and then when the scene changes to central London and Normandy the language reflects it. A true masterpiece and very very enjoyable. READ IT.
This is the easiest book I have read in a long time. And not because it was a simple plot or had a simple vocabulary or was written for simple minds. It was simple because it is just so brilliantly written. I don't want to refer to films too much in this blog but I think it probably helps that I've seen the film so know the story and the characters slightly - helps me put a face to a name, even if it is the face of an actor. In this case, I think seeing the film allowed me to appreciate the writing skill and language and imagery a little more, because I wasn't having to concentrate on the plot so much.
The story is engaging and the characters are utterly believable. I can believe the malice and jealousy with which Briony concocts her horrendous tale. I've been a little girl, and when you're that age everything feels one thousand times more intense than it actually is. When you first read what happens you don't believe that something like a lie (albeit an awful one) can rock people's lives and destroy relationships in the way McEwan has written it. It's written in such a sensitive a way; I felt sorry for all of the characters at one point in the book, even Briony. I fund Cecilia a bit harder to relate to but the love between her and Robbie is so pure, you're just WISHING that it all works out for them. I know it's cliche and life doesn't always give us happy endings, but I wanted a happy ending so badly.
A brilliant brilliant read I would thoroughly recommend to anyone. Honestly I believe it deserves all it's accolades. The heat of the summer at the beginning of the book is conveyed through the words, and then when the scene changes to central London and Normandy the language reflects it. A true masterpiece and very very enjoyable. READ IT.
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