Last book of the year!! Thank you so much, Becky Chambers, for providing me with the sci-fi comfort my heart and brain needed.
I don't Re-read in 2023:
Last book of the year!! Thank you so much, Becky Chambers, for providing me with the sci-fi comfort my heart and brain needed.
I don't think I had noticed this the first time I read this book, but this time around, I was struck with the emphasis Chambers put on some professions that aren't often discussed - in real life and in the realm of science-fiction: morticians and archivists (Véro, this is definitely the "Wayfarer" book for you!). But more precisely, I was struck with the relationship between Eyas, our (for lack of a better word) space-mortician, whose job is it to handle dead bodies, funeral ceremonies and subsequent "recycling" of the remains into compost, and Sunny, the host (i.e. sex worker) she befriends. Chambers talks about both of their professions with incredible respect and dignity, and I loved it. The two lines of work are often met with tons of prejudices and are deeply misunderstood, and it's lovely to see her bring her heart-warming humane touch to those jobs. I would have loved to see more of their relationship.
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I just love Becky Chambers. There's no way around it: she writes the kind of sci-fi I've always wanted to read. She writes the kind of sci-fi I wish I had written! "The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) was probably my favorite book of 2017, and I have been eagerly anticipating new "Wayfarer" installments since.
"Record of a Spaceborn Few" starts out shortly after the end of "The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet"; but the setting couldn't be more different. After the Earth was rendered uninhabitable, humans built the Exodus Fleet and left their home planet in search of a new place to live. While they were eventually accepted as part of the Galactic Commons and settled small colonies on a few planets, a community of humans remains on the fleet. Known as Exodans, they cherish their traditions and are fiercely loyal to their way of life. But over time, so many have left the Fleet, to settle on other worlds, live different lives. Are the Exodans fated to eventually vanish? How can they insure no one forgets where they came from and how hard they worked to get there? The Exodans are confronted head-on with these questions when a tragic incident kills a significant number of their community.
Just as in Chambers' first book, the story is told by multiple points of view, painting a rich and multilayered picture of what life is like in this universe. She writes with profound compassion and optimist humor; qualities I hunger for insatiably. Her inclusive approach to character development never feels forced: in her head, people have simply gotten to the point where they understand that being open and accepting is the only way to make sure we all survive whatever we have to face.
In Chambers' vivid and flawless world-building, humans were essentially refugees, tolerated by the Galactic Commons and only recently been made an integral part of its community: in many ways, they are still figuring it out, and dealing with a heavy heritage. Some of the characters in this story were born on the Fleet, and for a myriad reasons, want to protect and help it endure... or they begin to wonder if it really is the place for them. A newcomer and an alien academic have a very different interest in this living relic of Human culture: can it be a home? What can their culture learn form it? Their voices are distinct, their personalities and backstory very fleshed out; you get invested in each story line.
"Record of a Spaceborn Few" is engaging, moving and thought-provoking: it's Chambers' most human-centric work yet, and it is a remarkable exploration of what an uprooted humanity - who still hold on to what makes them unique in this big, diverse and complicated universe they travel through - could be like. She has given us consistently amazing space operas for the last few years and I hope she never stops! I can't recommend her books enough. If you are a fan of the series, you cannot miss this wonderful novel....more
“The deepest cavern in the world is the human heart.”
Don Miller is missing some memories. Now that he iUpdated review after a re-read in March 2020.
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“The deepest cavern in the world is the human heart.”
Don Miller is missing some memories. Now that he is about to celebrate his sixtieth wedding anniversary, people shrug it off as an early onset of senility, but these blanks started a long time ago, before old age could be considered a factor of memory loss. It doesn’t bother his beloved wife Michelle, but then, she is pretty unflappable: a world-famous anthropologist, she still travels the world to attend conferences and conduct field research on mysterious lost civilizations, with no indication that she plans on slowing down or stopping. But eventually, the fog in Don’s mind lifts enough for him to realize that certain things, such as secret occult societies, conspiracies that span millennia and the strange powers of old bloodlines might just be best left forgotten.
That’s all you need to know about the plot. I was lured in with what I first thought was a simple retelling of the Rumpelstiltskin folk tale, but after just a couple of pages, the tone changed and I was hooked. The narrative structure puts us right in Don’s shoes: slightly confused, aware of something dark just at the periphery of our perception. “The Croning” is weird, ominous, and bizarrely sensual in just the right way: you couldn’t have pried the book out of my hands, and the images it evoked are still seared into my brain. The different strands of the story are brought together perfectly at the end, and that final view of the whole tapestry made me appreciate how brilliant Barron is, and how carefully he assembled this novel. What a beautiful spiral of monstrous insanity!
This was my first Laird Barron book, and I think I am absolutely in love. His gorgeous, chilling and atmospheric prose, the way he lays out his creepy story, the intriguing characters he summons… Wow! His style obviously appeals to the Lovecraft fan in me, but honestly, this is just amazing writing that goes beyond genre. It’s dark, beautiful, blood-soaked and irresistible. He’s also not quite as nihilistic as my buddy H.P., which makes his universe even creepier. Cthulhu and the Elder Gods don’t care about humanity and never have, but the Children of Old Leech love us…
How did he cram so much awesomeness into such a short book?! But then again, I might have exploded if the book had been any longer. This is still the best horror novel I’ve ever read. It is quite simply a masterpiece. Apologies to Lovecraft, Ligotti and all the other little wannabes out there: you guys are great, but Laird is definitely the King with a capital K because he made me afraid of the space between the stars. This book is literary, rich, intoxicating, surprising and haunting and everyone should read it and have nightmares about it....more
DO NOT read this review if you are planning on reading "The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet" and haven't gotten around to it: there's kind of a majoDO NOT read this review if you are planning on reading "The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet" and haven't gotten around to it: there's kind of a major spoiler in the opening on "A Closed and Common Orbit".
Chambers' second book opens very soon after the rather thrilling conclusion of "Angry Planet". Following the catastrophic damage inflicted in her system, Lovey, the Wayfarer's AI, was rebooted, erasing her memory of the personality she had developed over her time on the ship. She abruptly decides to do what her socialized version had wanted: download her "consciousness" inside a "kit", a near perfect replica of a human body that allows her not only to leave the Wayfarer but also to pass as a biological being. Unfortunately, such kits are highly illegal in the Galactic Commons, and anyone involved with them can be sentenced to long prison terms.
Lovey's adaptation from being an omnipresent AI with eyes and ears all over the ship and a permanent connection to a huge information network... to a self-contained being who's sensory input is limited by her human-shaped kit's perception capacity is quite a roller-coaster. Luckily for her, Pepper the spunky engineer is there to help her adapt and learn to pass as human. Pepper is the perfect teacher and friend for Lovey (or Sidra, as she chooses to call herself), because she knows first hand what its like to be ripped away from the only world you have ever known and forced to quickly adapt to an alien (no pun intended) environment. Before she was Pepper, she was Jane 23, one of hundreds of slaves scrap salvagers; she had never seen the sky, or any being that hadn't been genetically engineered like herself, for that matter. Until the day she escaped.
What Chambers started with "Angry Planet" continues seamlessly in "Common Orbit": a clever, complex, fully realized world-building filled with wonderful, multi-dimensional characters. It also follows the template of a space-opera: a characters-driven story that happens to take place of Port Coriol, a space-travel and commercial hub. Two characters instead of an ensemble this time, and while I missed Kizzy and Doctor Chef, the new players brought to this universe's stage are just as memorable.
The way Sidra perceives the world around her and learns to navigate it is so cleverly described, as are the strange new feelings she must learn to deal with. Her being overwhelmed by people, sounds - basically sensory overload - is an unexpected but when you think about it, normal side-effect of her condition: having a finite body.
Pepper is a character that we only meet quickly in "Angry Planet", but her background is fleshed out in flashbacks that alternate with the current timeline of Sidra's assimilation into society. Chambers has created a strong and yet incredibly vulnerable character with Pepper, and young girl who was raised by machines and who somehow came out of this strange education being more human than most.
Parenting, racism, sexuality, colonialism: Chambers uses sci-fi the old-fashioned way, to talk about real-world issues in a different context, and while she tackles firmly contemporary topics (gender identity is the first that comes to mind), I loved seeing Le Guin, Silverberg and Heinlein's influence come to the surface.
Call me a sap, but something about Chambers' stories moves me: the woman writes with such compassion, humanity and kindness, as well as humor. I read "Common Orbit" while vacationing at my in-law's cottage by Lake Ontario, looking at the waves and eating Ginger-Os and you know what? This book is like Ginger-Os: unexpected, delicious, comforting, familiar and yet completely refreshing. Dear Becky: please write many more of these! I love your books to bits!...more
It became obvious that I had to re-read "A Gentleman in Moscow" after watching a few episodes of the series with my husband. I was watching the eventsIt became obvious that I had to re-read "A Gentleman in Moscow" after watching a few episodes of the series with my husband. I was watching the events unfold around a charming (but, I think, oddly cast*) Ewan McGregor and I kept muttering to myself: "I don't remember this at all!". In my defence, I read this magnificent book in 2017, which is quite a few years ago now (Jesus, time flies!), so many specific details have had plenty of time to fade in my memory. All I truly remembered about this book was that I loved it, and recommended it to everyone (including my father-in-law, who is usually more into mysteries and thrillers but was not able to resist Count Rostov's charm and also loved it, yay!). Well, I dusted off my copy and dove back into the slightly surreal and wonderful world of the Metropol and its unique guests.
A thing that truly struck me as I revisited this book was that Count Rostov's steadfast kindness is a super-power. He treats everyone with immense courtesy and compassion - even when he is being threatened, pushed around and forced into situations that would make most people livid. This hit me especially hard as I can't read the news without seeing stories of protests and counter-protests turned violent and acrimonious, when at the end of the day, what everyone involved wants is peace and safety for innocent people. This might very well be why I fell in love with the Count in 2017: he never debases himself, he never loses his humanity, and he never forgets that even those who would bully him and try to make him feel small are as human as he is, and therefore, deserve kindness.
The book turned out even better than I remembered. If you haven't read it yet, pick it up. If you have, pick it up again.
*Let's be clear: I love Ewan McGregor. So much. But in my humble and possibly less than well informed opinion, he doesn't give "Russian aristocrat" vibes at all. And the perm succeeded at something I believed impossible: it made him un-sexy. He is still great in the role, navigating the tonal shifts between whimsical and profound sadness with great skill; he is simply not how I had pictured this character.
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Original review from 2017:
This is one of those books that can be hard to describe. At first glance, it’s the story of a man living in exile inside a hotel for over thirty years. But it also is a poignant tale of friendship, love, family, nostalgia and the ambiguous love one can have for their country. It seems so simple, and yet it is so rich with wit, spirit, tenderness and humanity that you can’t believe so much could have happened to this one man over a single lifetime.
After writing a politically ambiguous and incendiary poem, Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov is sentenced to house arrest in perpetuity, under pain of execution. His residence happens to be the luxury Hotel Metropol in Moscow (real place: Google it, the pictures are stunning!), in 1922. As he is a member of the minor aristocracy, such a verdict is quite magnanimous given the new regime in place, and he decides to make the best out of his new slightly restricted lifestyle. As his country (and the world) slowly changes around the Metropol, he will soon come to realize that he might just be the luckiest man in Russia. Count Rostov is a gentleman in the old-fashioned sense of the word: refined, impeccable manners, extremely cultivated and well-read, very fond of books, fine food and good wines. He had assumed his house arrest would be a solitary confinement, and he is the first to be surprised when a precocious child decides that she will become his friend and sends the rest of his life in a very unexpected direction.
That’s all you really need to know about the plot going into this amazing novel. Towles wrote a love letter to Russia and Russian culture, but a very lucid love letter: he never romanticizes the darker side of a country with a long and very complicated history, but neither does he deny the incredible accomplishments its people brought to the world.
I was completely transported by Towles’ prose, and fell just a little bit in love with Alexander: every page made me smile, even when it also created an uncomfortable lump in my throat and threatened to make me cry. He is an extraordinary character who grows and changes through his friendships with the hotel's staff, and discovers a new family and a new reason to live - and not simply pass time with "Anna Karenina" and a glass of brandy.
If you are a fan of Russian culture and literature (the book is full of references to Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Gogol, Chekov, etc.), and liked “The Grand Budapest Hotel”, I have no doubt that you will love this book. Very highly recommended to all lovers of good books, good wines and good people....more
The other day, I was waiting for my husband to meet me for dinner, and I had plenty of time to kill so, I went to read at a nearby coffee shop. I had The other day, I was waiting for my husband to meet me for dinner, and I had plenty of time to kill so, I went to read at a nearby coffee shop. I had been sitting there for a few minutes when it hit me that I was drinking espresso whilst reading Simone de Beauvoir (in French!!) and listening to Bob Dylan on my iPod. This moment couldn’t have been any snootier if I had tried… that is, until I started laughing – at myself – out loud, to the other patrons’ confusion. I felt I was only missing a beret and a cigarette, and the picture would have been perfect (note to self: carry emergency beret and cigarette in purse, to maximize future poser moments).
But really, reading Beauvoir shouldn’t be considered a snobby read, especially her memoirs! They are very elegantly written, but show a candor and honesty few people are brave enough to have when looking back at their own lives. They are also a fascinating account of how a relatively ordinary young girl grew up to become one of the 20th century’s luminaries of philosophy and feminism; so you know, it's really interesting!
The title is a bit tongue-in-cheek, as Beauvoir was certainly not always a picture-perfect daughter: she isn’t shy to admit she was a brat who threw public tantrums and who was perfectly happy to make herself throw up rather than eat things she did not like. I admit I was surprised to learn how deeply religious she was throughout her childhood and early adult life: considering her intellectual work and the lifestyle she later cultivated, I had not expected her to have contemplated becoming a nun!
Since this book covers mostly her childhood, adolescence and early adulthood, it focuses a lot on her family, her childhood friend Zaza, her love of books, her studies... and her crushes! The very lucid way she remembers the pangs of puberty, the strange and mysterious agonies of trying to understand oneself and others as you grow up were fascinating and moving.
I felt a certain kinship with Beauvoir as I was reading this: her discovery of the complexity of the adult world and refusal to be treated as a child who did not belong to it, her struggle with the loss of faith and her precocious intellectual interests were things I related to deeply. I loved reading her thoughts about the effect "Little Women" had on her, not only because I also love Jo March, but because she thought Jo's relationship with Professor Bhaer to be more desirable than a more romantic alternative, because they have a greater intellectual connection. I simply couldn't agree more.
In fact, the way she saw her relationships with men was amazing: never could she conceive of being with a man who would not consider her an equal and a partner. When she learns that her cousin Jacques, whom she pinned for when she was a teenager, had a working class mistress he pushed aside when came time for him to make a reasonable marriage, she was most mad at him, not for having had a mistress, but for being a cliché. That lack of originality inspired nothing but disdain in her, she simply could not abide the mediocrity.
Her relationship with Sartre is only just beginning when "Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter" concludes, but she knew he'd always be a part of her life because she felt like she had finally found an intellectual equal, who values her mind and her intelligence. Can I just say: "YAS!!!!".
The amazing story of an absolutely amazing woman. I will be looking for the rest of her autobiography!...more
I was talking to a friend about this novel a few days ago, and following this conversation, I have to change my rating from 4 to 5 stars. Because I keI was talking to a friend about this novel a few days ago, and following this conversation, I have to change my rating from 4 to 5 stars. Because I keep recommending it to everyone. Because I still think about it all the time over a year after I read it, because Pierrot and Rose and the way their story ended haunts me. So to Hell with the few editing lapses that annoyed me: when a book gets under your skin the way this one did, it deserves a full five stars and a spot on the “favorites” shelf.
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This book had been on my radar for a while, and not just because of the (utterly inappropriate) comparison to “The Night Circus”, a book I guiltily adored a few years ago (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...). I had a feeling that “The Lonely Hearts Hotel” was a romance, a genre that I have mixed feelings about at the best of times. And I was ready to overlook that, because I enjoy stories of star-crossed lovers just as much as the next gal: but if you put those poor doomed idiots in my beloved city, during a time period I am mildly obsessed with, then add a good dose of grit and sex, and sprinkle a bit of music and vaguely circus-inspired performances (a local obsession, after all), then you have sold me a book! And since I have no problem with “bad words” that start with C (though context is key here) and decadent settings, this book seemed tailor-made to make me happy.
Pierrot and Rose are born in just about the worse circumstances one can imagine: one is the product of an incestuous rape, while the other’s mother was kicked out of her house for letting herself be impregnated by a neighborhood boy. They end up in a seedy, nun-managed orphanage on the northern edge of Montreal, in 1914. It’s a horrible way to grow up, in a dirty Dickensian sort of way: cold winters, hard manual work, senseless beatings and punishments, no affection… and sometimes entirely the wrong kind of affection. The only good thing those two abandoned children have is each other: Pierrot quickly shows great talent for the piano, and Rose is a gifted dancer and acrobat, which could be their ticket to a better life - but fate has something very different in store for them. While the way they feel about each other is obvious to everyone, they are cruelly separated and thrown into the unfriendly world of the Great Depression, where only the most ruthless people thrive, while the sentimental artists are bound to face the unhappiest of circumstances. And those circumstances will be both highly disturbing and graphically described.
I would call this novel magical realism, because even if nothing particularly magical happens (again, nothing like “The Night Circus”, where things are literally magical), you have to suspend disbelief to enjoy this story. The very essence of Pierrot and Rose’s characters are as unrealistic as they come: Pierrot is ethereally, delicately beautiful, can talk like a gentleman and play the piano like a prodigy while Rose has a will of iron, a bottomless imagination and the kind of big dark eyes that apparently renders everyone helpless. People like that simply don’t exist, but it’s lovely to imagine that they do and that they find each other. It’s also lovely to imagine that their bond is strong enough to survive destitution, drug addition, abject poverty and every imaginable kind of abuse. I am kind of a sucker for stories about how the downtrodden and misfits manage to find happiness in the ugly, messed-up world they live in, and this is the essence of this book. I like the juxtaposition of the elegant and delicate aesthetic of the 30s splattered in the squalor of street life: there's something twisted and sensual in this story that you can't look away from, and the images O'Neill created and put in my head are vulgar, surreal, beautiful and outrageous. Her characters’ thoughts about desire, love and their options (or lack thereof) in a world that preys on dreamers and women are tragic, poetic, paradoxical and depressing. But oh so charmingly written. And while the end is predictably tragic, it strikes a perfectly satisfying and balanced note.
The only problem I have with this book is that the prose is sporadically uneven : O’Neill goes from ornately crafted paragraphs that summon incredible images and feelings… to short, flat sentences that don’t seem like they were worked on at all. And occasionally, her turn of phrase is pretty inconsistent with the setting of her story. This may not seem like much, but it felt very jarring to me, because it essentially pulled me out of the story every time I would hit one of those underworked sentences, or anachronistic words. And I really, really wanted to lose myself in her world, no matter how twisted and fucked up it got! So regardless of how weird and titillating the story is, I knew early it could never be a 5-star read, just because the editor had not been rigorous enough… I enjoyed it enough to keep it at 4 stars, but this irritant was hard to get over. Please don’t let my complaint stop you: if you can’t stomach stories about sexual abuse, violence, drug addiction and animal abuse, then avoid this book. Otherwise, it is absolutely worth checking it out. Yup, it is a historical romance, but it’s neither prim nor saccharine, and when it's well written, it’s intoxicating....more
Whoa. Just whoa. The 300 or so pages of "Kindred" hold a story so complex and sophisticated - yet compulsively readable: I don't understand how it allWhoa. Just whoa. The 300 or so pages of "Kindred" hold a story so complex and sophisticated - yet compulsively readable: I don't understand how it all fits in such a small volume.
Dana is a uncommonly intelligent and resourceful protagonist, who keeps it together and connects the dot just in time when the most unbelievable thing happens to her: on her 26th birthday, she begins to involuntarily time-travel. Unpredictably and against her will, she is ripped from her timeline, California in 1976, and suddenly finds herself in Maryland… in 1815. This time-hop is triggered by the distress of a young boy named Rufus Weylin, whom she quickly realizes is her ancestor. After a while she recognizes the patterns of the phenomenon and becomes very practical about the unpredictable time-traveling: she carries a bag with a knife, soap and clothing with her at all time, and her husband Kevin realizes that if he is touching her when she "travels", he is pulled along with her to the antebellum South.
Dana's very existence depends upon Rufus surviving and having children, but in order to protect him, Dana must survive in a world where being an educated and articulate black woman is, in itself, a threat. When he grows up to be only marginally better than his contemporaries, Dana is forced to shove aside her modern prejudices to keep her family tree intact and growing. This brings about an interesting reflection on ancestry, and what we inherit from those that came before us, and how it affects our present.
The time-traveling elements are not fully explained: all we know is that there's an emotional link between Dana and Rufus and that he somehow "summons" her when his life is in danger, which creates an age-old time-traveling paradox. But Butler doesn't want to talk about the philosophical implications of the phenomenon: she wants to talk about Dana's experience. As a woman. As a black person. As a human being. In her own timeline, she is fiercely independent, aware that her gender and skin-tone means she will need to work harder than most to live life on her own terms: being suddenly thrust at a time and place where she is considered a subhuman without rights or opportunity comes as an even sharper contrast than it does for her husband when he initially accompanies her, and brings about a very thought-provoking story. The historical rear-view mirror, the cultural biases, immutable human nature…
How easy is it to excuse despicable behavior when a cultural norm condones it and when people eventually pass this behavior down to their children and make it a part of their personalities? The characters are well-fleshed out, complicated, realistic but not over-drawn. I've read very little about slavery and this book was a shocking education about a shameful practice - the consequences of which still influence our lives today (at least in North America). It is one thing to be intellectually aware of an social injustice, and an entirely different thing to experience it first hand, and Butler's book does an amazing job of putting you right behind Dana's eyes as she sees the dehumanizing horrors take place.
I had never heard of Octavia Butler before joining Goodreads, and I had to scour a few bookstores before I could get my hands on a copy of "Kindred"; I am saddened that this work is not better known and more appreciated, because it's a fantastic novel, whether you want to look at it as sci-fi or historical fiction. I feel like this should be as famous as the other sci-fi classics, such as "Dune" and "The Left Hand of Darkness" (or maybe it is, and I've been hanging out with the wrong crowd). It's beautiful, brutal, thought-provoking and deeply touching. Very highly recommended....more
Ah, to be young and bookish and to hate your status as a child… To want to be part of the grown-ups' world, to want to understand their strange actionAh, to be young and bookish and to hate your status as a child… To want to be part of the grown-ups' world, to want to understand their strange actions and their esoteric social codes, which seem so mysterious and sophisticated… As we get older we often realize that none of this is quite as glamorous as we had imagined, and the rear-view mirror of memory can give new meanings to events we thought we understood so well in our youth…
Briony is the youngest child of rather comfortable British family, between the two World Wars. One hot summer afternoon, when cousins and a friend of her older brother Leon's are visiting, a strange series of events will change Briony's life. She will witness a mysterious scene between her older sister Cecilia and their housekeeper's son, Robbie; her thirteen years old eyes will interpret their interaction and the following events very differently from what actually happened and by the end of that day, nothing will ever be the same… From there on, we follow Robbie and Cecilia's story, as they deal with the consequences of Briony's not-so-innocent mistake, and with the young girl's long and excruciating journey for forgiveness.
I am late on the band-wagon, as usual, and this is my first McEwan novel. And now I am kicking myself for not having checked this book out sooner. His prose is lush with gorgeous images and sensations - I found myself reading slower than usual to make the pleasure last a little bit longer. The characterization is amazing, as we get under every character's skin, explore their thoughts, what haunts and motivates them - and it is captivating! McEwan's mastery of language blew me away, as did his use of symbolism and clever narrative structure. A story about a mistake in judgement could never be told from a single point of view, it has to be explored from many angles, and he handled that with incredible skill.
What Briony does is a thoughtless act motivated by a whirlwind of immature feelings: jealousy, a need for attention, wanting to be taken seriously and feel "worldly", the budding fascination (and paradoxical repulsion) with sexuality that every young girl experiences... I've read many reviews that mention how much they hated her and how petty and selfish she was; have these readers ever met thirteen year old girls?! They are generally insufferable precisely because they are at that horribly awkward stage of growing up. Being a little girl doesn't work anymore, but no one treats them like adults either, so they are unpredictable and they act out. I am by no means excusing Briony's spiteful reaction; as the title of the book implies, she will spend the rest of her life paying for her mistake it in guilt and regret. What I am saying is how realistic I think she is; I didn't like her one bit, but I believed in her completely.
I am not a big love story fan, because I think most people can't write them up in any kind of honest and realistic way. Most people write about love-at-first sight or obsessive lust and neither of these things are love the way real people experience it, so I avoid books labeled as romances like the plague. I can count on the fingers of one hand the love stories I actually felt invested in, and Robbie and Cecilia's story is one of them. This is impressive given the fact that they are each other's first and only love, something I am usually very skeptical of. I was very moved by their devotion and how they give each other a reason to carry on in some of history's darkest days. I read the second half of this book with a lump in my throat, wondering what was wrong with me. In the end, I realized that nothing is wrong with me: McEwan is just fucking brilliant.
Cecilia is spoiled, but she turns out to have more character and inner strength than the rest of her family put together. Her faith in Robbie and her unwavering loyalty to him made her one of the greatest romantic heroines I've encountered in literature. As for Robbie, I couldn't help but admire his pride, his resilience and his fair-mindedness. For someone with such a bright and promising future to be disgraced and ruined the way he is would be tragic in and of itself, but the dignity with which he keeps moving and never gives up on his ultimate goal (to "live without shame": what a line!) made me root for him with my whole heart.
The ending made a lot of people angry, apparently, but I loved it. It made the heartbreaking parts of the story even more crushing and while we see that Briony can never really make peace with herself, she gave peace back to those she hurt the only way she could figure out how. I found that incredibly moving. Writing is a form of therapy to many writers: it's a way to talk about the things that linger on your mind without really talking about them exorcise demons, right wrongs and create a better world. This novel made me want to start writing again.
This was a wonderful and rewarding read, a rich mix of Austen, Forster, Waugh and Woolf, and I loved every word of it so much more than I could have anticipated. I saw the movie, and while I often can't stand the sight of Keira Knightley, I do think that she was a perfect Cecilia, and that the movie was a flawless adaptation that perfectly captured the tone of McEwan's writing. 5 very bright stars and a spot of my "favorites" shelf....more
Well, that was messed up. Now I need a book about rainbows and puppies... Vegetarians and people who are triggered by violence against animals should Well, that was messed up. Now I need a book about rainbows and puppies... Vegetarians and people who are triggered by violence against animals should not read this. Actually, only read this if you have a really strong stomach.
If "The Handmaid's Tale" and James Ellroy had a baby, it would probably be a lot like this book. Fanaticism, theocracy, police corruption, violent extermination of heathens, (lack of) freedom of religion... The story takes place in New Bethlehem, which was part of the United States at some point. Before the Purge. That was when Church and State were merged and the New Republican Testament was written and imposed as law on this new city-state's citizens. Now the ultimate authority is the Prophet... Murtag is an Acolyte: that means he's part of a special police force, who's role is to find and eradicate heretics. That includes people who do not live by the True Faith, as well as homosexuals and Darwinists; you know, people who could potentially make you doubt your beliefs, or simply don't live by this revised and improved version of the Bible everyone is now reading.
Jonah Murtag is a rather typical noir novel police officer: sullen, jaded, depressed. Not alcoholic, but only because the city-state has outlawed booze. He is stuck between highly forbidden feelings for his partner Angela Doe (of course, sexuality is also highly regulated, and copulation outside the bonds of matrimony is enough to get you ritually mutilated or worse) and the massive disillusionment that comes with working behind the wizard's curtain. There's something about knowing how the sausage gets made that takes away your taste for hot-dogs, and being the muscle of a religious dictatorship is no different. So when he gets caught up in an investigation on a string of bombings, originally attributed to fanatics of other faiths, his shaky faith and ability to deal with the system he is a part of starts unraveling fast. Because evidence begins to indicate a different kind of perpetrator, more dangerous than your run-of-the-mill jihadist. And extreme circumstances call for extreme measures: Heaven's very own creepy "enforcers"...
Religious fanatics scare me, for many reasons. The idea of born-again Christians with guns is enough to make me lose sleep, so this book was basically tailor-made to traumatize me. It's a hard-boiled detective story, a scathing commentary on extremism and a horribly realistic speculation on what happens when critical thinking and objective reality are thrown out the window in favor of bigotry and violence. The world-building is succinct, but spooky and believable. I suppose all dictatorships headed by megalomaniacs are the same on the surface, but Cutter really nails what it would be like if all the Bible-Belt Jesus nuts were armed, organized and decided to take over. And holy cow is it ever disturbing and gory! Add to that the old-fashioned noir atmosphere that permeates the book: everything is dark, dirty... and the things that are clean are wrong somehow. This is my first Nick Cutter book, and I’ll definitely check out his other novels because I found his writing beautiful and riveting, in the most fucked-up way imaginable. His twisted choice of subject matter resulted in a unique and terrifying dystopian tale.
The author’s acknowledgements at the end is very interesting: if you read the book and wondered “what kind of sicko writes stuff like this?”, Cutter gives a very interesting insight as to WHY he wrote it. Highly, highly recommended!...more
Paris, noir murder investigation, time-travel, archaeology. Gimme, gimme, gimme!!! I do so love it when a writer takes all my favorite things and putsParis, noir murder investigation, time-travel, archaeology. Gimme, gimme, gimme!!! I do so love it when a writer takes all my favorite things and puts them into a book I can devour excitedly. A part of me is always a bit frustrated I wasn’t there early enough to write it myself, but what can you do? I opt to simply enjoy the ride.
In 2266, a nano-robot apocalypse has forced humans off their home planet; Verity Auger is an archaeologist who digs up evidence of the past civilisation from an eerily deserted Paris. After one of her research expeditions goes wrong, she is recruited by a secret agency who wants to send her back to Paris. Like way, way back… Her storyline is intertwined with Wendell Lloyd’s, a jazz musician/private detective who works in 1959’s Paris. But then again, it’s not quite the 1959’s Paris we know from our history books… In this slightly off City of Lights, Lloyd investigates what seems at first like a suicide, but the deeper he digs, the more he realizes there is much more to this case than anyone could have anticipated.
It’s impossible to summarize the plot more than this without giving it away, and this book is simply too awesome to spoil. Alastair Reynolds is an astrophysicist, and it shows: the sciency bits are well-written and make sense. But don’t make the mistake of thinking this is dry just because the author is a big nerd: his prose is evocative and lush. I was pleasantly surprised and very excited by the style of “Century Rain”; it’s a real pleasure to read a gorgeously written book that doesn’t underestimate the reader’s intelligence! I could see the story unfold before my eyes and many scenes kept me on the edge of my seat, manically turning the pages. Of course, this book requires patience. No exposition is given about Verity's world until very, very late, so you just have to roll with a few weird words without fully knowing what they mean for quite a while, but that turns out to be part of the perfect pacing! And when the explanations do happen, they are as disturbing as they are familiar - and well worth the wait!
Strong and realistic female characters in sci-fi are not exactly a dime-a-dozen, but here we have Verity. Very intelligent, driven, stubborn – but also too dedicated to her job to find enough time for her marriage or children. Her mind is sharp, but she has a very short fuse and her impulsive reactions have a way of complicating things… I liked her just as much as she annoyed me, which is really perfect. You know early on that her storyline will inevitably cross Lloyd’s, and I couldn’t wait to see how the disillusioned jazz-loving detective would deal with the hot-tempered archaeologist.
This book really impressed me and I can't recommend it enough and not just to sci-fi fans: everyone who loves a good story and great writing needs to get a copy of this genre-bending book! 5 stars and a well-earned spot on my "favorite" shelf!...more
“When Free Speech Turns Into an Orwellian Nightmare” or “PC Culture in Academia”…
I’ve had some first and second-hand experience of that phenomenon. We“When Free Speech Turns Into an Orwellian Nightmare” or “PC Culture in Academia”…
I’ve had some first and second-hand experience of that phenomenon. Well-meaning but utterly mis-guided people who find everything offensive, try to hush up people who disagree with them without seeing the enormous irony of using censorship tactics to keep those who think differently quiet. I have seen moral crusaders drag the names of people whose only fault was having a dark sense of humour through the mud, and use concepts like “safe space” and “trigger warning” to get people they didn’t like fired. Petty dictatorships established over the most trivial things blown out of proportion…
“The Human Stain” could be a real story, and it is my understanding that a very similar case actually happened right around the time that Roth published this novel. And because it hit so close to something I have seen happen in front of my own, disbelieving, flabbergasted eyes, it made me cringe a lot.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved this book. But it was a painful reminder of the weird, broken system of academia that I once held in such high regards. It is also interesting to think that this novel doesn’t take place that long ago: 1998 is still less than 20 years ago, and evangelistic political correctness has only gotten more hardline since.
Moving on to the actual book.
Coleman Silk, the highly respected dean of faculty at Athena College resigns in disgrace after allegations of racism are brought up against him by two black students who felt offended by a remark he made when they were not attending his class. By way of coping with this humiliating experience and with the death of his wife, he launches himself into an affair with an almost illiterate woman half his age. He befriends a writer living in his neck of the woods, and this new buddy will soon find out a secret that Silk has been hiding almost his entire life, and that make the accusations held against him even more absurd and devastating than it seemed at first.
Spoilers from this point on.
Can I just say that I am very late on the bandwagon: this is my first Philip Roth novel, and I am completely blown away by his sophisticated characterization. There are people I have known for ages, but I don’t know them half as well as I now know Coleman Silk. And it’s not just the main character that is portrayed with such details and humanity: the deeply damaged Les Farley and the incredibly self-important Delphine Roux are also rendered vividly. The prose is powerful and gripping: yes, he uses big words, but that’s not a problem for me at all. I love big words! The carefully assembled clockwork of the non-linear narrative structure unveils these people and what you think you know about them dissolves as you explore their roots, their motivations. These characters feel so very real and they will linger in my thoughts for a long time.
This book forces the reader to think not simply about race, but about identity, how our actions shape that identity, and whether or not how other people perceives us ends up defining us. We find out relatively early that Coleman Silk is a black man, who has been passing as white almost his entire life. Only a handful of people have known; most of the world doesn’t see the secret hidden in plain sight, and he has built a fictitious Jewish background for himself that people accept without any questions. The already absurd accusations of racism held against him would be even more absurd if people knew the truth about him, but how can he come out now, after a career, marriage, family – an entire life where it was always taken for granted by everyone that he was white?
Coleman’s nemesis, Delphine, is a much more complex and fascinating creation than I had expected, and as much as I can’t stand her, I loved reading about her. Roth painted such a painfully realistic portrait of a specific group: the highly-sheltered intellectual elite, who have never existed outside of an academic setting and who are not equipped to handle the “outside” world.
And of course, there are the Farleys: Lester, whose PTSD from his two turns in Viet-Nam is so out of control that he can’t tell reality from delusion anymore, and Faunia – the woman life decided to beat up on… Abuse, bad luck and then more abuse is what that woman had to endure, it has made her hard, calcified. She has seen and lived stuff that nobody should ever have to see and live. Coleman is probably originally attracted to her because of her damage, but the ultimate revelation that Faunia isn’t fooled was very touching. Deep down inside, don’t we want the world to see us for what we truly are? And she sees him.
I’ll be thinking about this one for a long time, and probably re-reading it. A very impressive book that I recommend to everyone....more
I am a pretty voracious and eclectic reader, which is a lot of fun because I never really get bored with my readings. But I find that with time, it maI am a pretty voracious and eclectic reader, which is a lot of fun because I never really get bored with my readings. But I find that with time, it makes finding really original books way harder than it used to be. That’s OK, it doesn’t take any of the joy of reading away, it just means I am not as often surprised as I wish I was when I pick up a new book. I get it, it’s hard not to be derivative in one way or another when there are books about every imaginable subject matter out there: it makes truly out-of-the-box books a rarity.
About 30 pages into “The Library at Mount Char”, I knew a few things: 1. I was going to like this book very much, 2. I was getting that butterfly-like feeling of excitement that comes from reading something unlike any book read in recent memory, 3. I would eventually have nightmares about David, one of the most memorable characters I have come across in a long, long time.
“The Library at Mount Char” is a gory, mind-bending work of dark urban fantasy. Or maybe horror/sci-fi? It is very hard to pigeon-hole… As I devoured it, it reminded me of my first Neil Gaiman reads, but way bloodier and a bit less lyrical (many reviewers compare it to “American Gods”, and I have to agree, there’s definitely a similarity in broad themes, atmosphere and brilliance). I was thrilled to find so many unexpected twists, unique and creepy characters and fascinating world building. There is dark humour scattered through the blood and guts that are generously spilled through this story, making the violence towards humans and animals a little easier to deal with; but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a bit queasy from time to time.
The story centers around Carolyn, a young woman who used to be what she refers to as a “regular American”. But some unspecified disaster occurred and she was taken in by Father, a god-like creature who has many other aliases and who has apparently been ruling over Earth for millennia. He adopted twelve young children, his Librarians, and teaches each of them a catalog. Carolyn’s is languages, but there are also animals, healing, mathematics, war... They are strictly forbidden from studying another Librarian’s catalog and are harshly and violently punished if they step out line in any way. Dying is not the cruelest thing that can happen to a disobedient Librarian… At some point, Father disappears, leaving his Librarians unable to get back into the Library, so they try and figure out what happened to him and how they can get him – and their home - back.
The more I think about it, the more I see this story as a speculation on the theme of “what if God decided he needed apprentices, and what would his relationship with them be?”. The struggle for the throne seems inevitable, which would be why he wouldn’t give a single one of them the entirety of his knowledge, and why he would prevent them from learning each other’s craft as much as possible; so that no usurper could get rid of him.
The setting is the United States, but it’s very hard to say when this story is supposed to take place. There are plenty of references to small familiar things (Reese’s peanut butter cups, Taco Bell, Listerine), but there’s an entire alternate universe mythology weaved around those familiar elements that gives the entire story a surreal vibe. The kind of vibe that makes normal things one has always taken for granted kinda spooky…
The plot in convoluted, but brilliant. You get thrown head first into the story, without any set-up or exposition, and then, well, you just need to keep reading rabidly because you need to know what the hell is going on. And you’ll want to know it all: the present day actions as well as the flashbacks, giving you a glimpse into all the characters’ often disturbing history. There’s plenty of foreshadowing, but surprise and after surprise makes this one of the most exciting books I have come across in ages. The gallows humour used by Hawkins in the chapter titles alone made me giggle, but really, when you laugh reading “The Library at Mount Char”, it’s kind of like laughing with a mouthful of blood because the next creepy, disgusting bit isn’t far away.
Power corrupts, we’ve all heard that, but some of the characters in this novel have not simply been corrupted: their humanity has been stripped away. As I said above, David freaked the fuck out of me (that being said, I also think this character is pure brilliance!). The very image of a man who walks around caked in blood from head to toe, wearing an army jacket and a lavender tutu makes me cringe; especially when we see time and time again how much pleasure this guy gets out of killing and mangling people… And his relationship with Margaret… *shudders*As for Carolyn, her evolution left me slack-jawed and bug-eyed. She’s shy and bookish, but extremely – and I mean extremely - clever.
Also, I will always love Steve for the following line, which sums up my own decade-long relationship with Buddhism:
“Oh. Are you a Buddhist?” “No. I’m an asshole. But I keep trying.”
Steve is a great “normal guy”, who was dealt a bad hand, had some truly terrible luck and is now doing everything he can to keep his nose clean. He gets tangled up in the Librarian’s schemes to reclaim their home and will make some very interesting friends along the way. As for Erwin, the only other non-Librarian character, he’s your typical military muscle guy, but he also packs a very powerful brain: not a combo one encounters very often, and he is quite aware of that. He uses the stereotype of the big dumb guy to keep his profile low while staying three steps ahead of almost everyone.
The concepts of the “heart coal” and a word for promise that roughly translates as “a bone that cannot be cracked” charmed and surprised me. I finished this book satisfied and moved by the ending, and knew that it had made its way into my favorites list instantly and that I would have to re-read it, knowing what I know now to look for clues and other subtleties I might have missed the first time around.
This is a book for patient people with strong stomachs, who like very weird, fucked up stories. If that’s your cup of tea and if you love the work of Gaiman, Lovecraft, Mieville and Vandemeer, chances are, you will really enjoy “The Library at Mount Char”! It is a wonderful, fresh, weird and very enthralling read that I recommend enthusiastically. And Mr. Hawkins, can you please write more books? Because if this is your debut novel, I really can’t wait to read what you will come up with next! Thankies!...more
"Between Two Fires" was the first book I read by Christopher Buehlman, and I immediately went out and got all of his other work as soon as I was done "Between Two Fires" was the first book I read by Christopher Buehlman, and I immediately went out and got all of his other work as soon as I was done with this one - but I think it is still my favorite. Set during the Black Plague, this is a strange blend of historical horror and fantasy that follows a knight turned brigand, and disgraced countryside priest and a very strange foundling who is not what she seems as they search for redemption in a hellish France.
Thomas used to have a comfortable enough life as a minor seigneur in Normandy, but the battle of Crécy changed everything: another lord stole his land and had him excommunicated, leaving him no choice but to scrap a living as a thief. While scrounging for food and shelter, he comes across Delphine, a young girl orphaned by the plague who tells him she must go to Paris and Avignon to see the Pope, as she has a mission to accomplish, though she cannot really explain what that means. Against his better judgement, Thomas decides to go with her, and along the road, they pick up Père Mathieu, a priest abandoned by his congregation because of certain proclivities. But the aforementioned road is fraught with perils, because they soon find out that whatever war and pestilence is taking place on Earth, it's merely a side effect of a much larger battle between angels and demons. And those demons will stop at nothing to prevent Delphine from reaching the Pope.
Buehlman did his homework, and I really appreciated that he doesn't sugarcoat just how gross the Middle Ages were and how truly brutal medieval warfare was. But while there is definitely some graphic gore, the unsettling nature of his demons are, as far as I am concerned, just as upsetting. But what truly makes this book special for me is that I found it unexpectedly moving. For all of his gruff, Thomas is a broken man, desperate to get back the honor he has unjustly lost - and whatever forces drives her, Delphine is still just a girl who needs a mother's love and who still wants to play and dance, regardless of the desolation she is surrounded with. The essence of those characters never waivers, even when they are caught in the middle of a battle between Heaven and Hell.
The ending beautifully wraps up the story, and left an unforgettable bittersweet tightness in my chest as I flipped the last page.
This is a very special book, and I was really happy to buddy-read it with my bestie this year!...more
With my anglocreepness and obsession with British things, it is almost unbelievable that I went so long without reading “The Remains of the Day”. BecaWith my anglocreepness and obsession with British things, it is almost unbelievable that I went so long without reading “The Remains of the Day”. Because that book is so quintessentially British. On top of being the pinnacle of Englishness (at least the way my Canadian mind imagines it to be), this book is also gorgeously written, subtle, bittersweet and multilayered. Reading it was like eating a deliciously regretful milles-feuilles pastry.
In 1956, at the twilight of his life/career, Stevens, the loyal butler of Darlington Hall, takes a road trip to visit a former housekeeper of the great house he works for. As he drives through the West Country, he revisits some important events of the past, and reflects on his life. This may sound very quaint and simplistic, but trust me, it is anything but! The first part feels a lot like what Mr. Carson’s inner monologue must be like (“Downton Abbey” fans get this reference), but it eventually turns into something much more complex than the concerns related to the care of a great British estate.
“The Remains of the Day” is a reflection on a life that essentially went unlived. Stevens obviously gives tremendous importance to his role as butler of a great aristocratic house: his pride in the family he serves and his devotion to their name is quite strong. But his reminiscing shows the reader a much more flawed picture of his employer than the one he so desperately wants to believe in. He is an unreliable narrator, and you have to pay attention to what he doesn’t say just as much as to what he does say. His sense of dignity and honor has caused him to find solace in denial. Stevens has built his identity around Lord Darlington, and his self-worth depends entirely on someone else’s greatness and he must defend it at any cost, lest it damages his own worth.
When Miss Kenton arrives at Darlington Hall, we are introduced to a fresh perspective on Stevens’ world: Miss Kenton is practical and efficient, but she is also warm and caring. She cares about her work deeply, but people are of utmost importance to her as well, something Stevens has a hard time relating to, as he is extremely self-denying, and puts his work ahead of his own interests and comforts. In fact, I found myself questioning Stevens’ mental health at a few points in this novel: his lack of reaction to some deeply disturbing events, his misplaced sense of loyalty towards his employer, his incapacity to respond to some social cues and lack of empathy seem to place him somewhere on the autism spectrum. This is not something that would have been diagnosed at the time the story takes place in, but from a more modern perspective, it seems rather obvious. His feelings for Miss Kenton can seem clear to the reader, but to Stevens himself, they remain mysterious and unexplored.
I mentioned Stevens being an unreliable narrator: he flat out admits to lying on several occasions and his interpretation of events and things both said and unsaid is not always quite accurate. But he really had me wondering about Lord Darlington: was he truly a horrible person, or did he fall under the influence of the wrong crowd at the wrong time, as Stevens would have us believe? This is a delicate question, as several members of the British aristocracy (including the Duke and Duchess of Windsor) were believed to be Nazi sympathisers – until Hitler started bombing England, that is… The conversation with Mr. Cardinal in the last quarter of the book is quite gripping, as it seems to validate Stevens’ opinion of Lord Darlington while showing how little Stevens has concerned himself with the ideas and leanings of his employer, excusing his apathy by claiming that it is not his place to question Lord Darlington. There is something disturbing and sad about those sentiments.
Most of the story takes place between the World Wars, when the British Empire was fast-approaching the end of its glory. Estates like Darlington Hall were becoming increasingly difficult to maintain for aristocrats: the costs were exorbitant, people who had worked in service for generations started to seek different ways of making a living, blurring the rigid class roles people of Stevens’ generation were used to. A strong statement against classism is expressed in this novel, by contrasting the behaviors of some of the so-called true gentlemen, their subordinates and “regular people”.
On a metaphorical level, Stevens is England: the disillusioned, mid-century England, licking its wounds, clinging to its former glory and refusing to acknowledge the mistakes that have caused it’s slow downfall. On a more practical level, this is a book about the importance of living your life, of not letting other people define your identity, that there never was a correlation between someone’s class and their worth as a human being. The hopeful note at the end is ambiguous and bittersweet, and wraps up Stevens’ narrative perfectly.
Read this book to remind yourself to stop and smell the roses from time to time, to remind yourself that love and family and more important than work. Read it just to treat yourself to a magnificently written modern masterpiece....more
"Murder Mysteries" is probably my favorite short story by Neil Gaiman. I read it for the first time in the "Smoke and Mirrors" collection and I couldn"Murder Mysteries" is probably my favorite short story by Neil Gaiman. I read it for the first time in the "Smoke and Mirrors" collection and I couldn't stop thinking about it for days. I was disturbed, enchanted, heartbroken. This little story haunted me and I told everyone that they just HAD to read it, but when they asked me what it was about, I was at a lost to explain or summarize the story for them. It's about angels, murder (obviously), love, revenge, justice, the creation of the Universe... Only a writer of Gaiman's caliber can take so many complex concepts and weave them together as finely as if they were light gossamer strands, then pack it all into a story that is less than a hundred pages.
When I heard that Gaiman had teamed up with P. Craig Russell to make a graphic novel out of it, I had to have a copy. The story is cinematic enough to be beautifully translated into the illustrated format. While the art can't hope to compete with the ethereal images my imagination had conjured, Mr. Russell's work plays on light and darkness and it's beautiful, subtle and evocative. His pen is perfectly aligned with Gaiman's imagination (as I have seen in many "Sandman" stories) and he brings his words to life perfectly.
The second part of the book is about the adaptation of the short story into a graphic novel. You can skip it if you want, but I always find that process very interesting and I was curious as to how Russell had processed Gaiman's ideas and turned them in those luminous illustrations. It also made me want to see what he did with "The Graveyard Book".
This story is ambiguous, unsettling, rich, moving and unforgettable. Fans of the short story will love it, and people who have only know Gaiman via his "Sandman" series are in for a treat… and maybe a gateway drug to his prose....more
My mom hates children’s TV shows, so while I was growing up, I mostly watched HER shows: “Star Trek: Next Generation” and Granada Television’s productMy mom hates children’s TV shows, so while I was growing up, I mostly watched HER shows: “Star Trek: Next Generation” and Granada Television’s production of “Sherlock Holmes”. I think it might be where my weakness for Victoriana and highly intelligent and sarcastic men comes from, because I was head over heels for Jeremy Brett. I apparently asked for a deerstalking hat and violin lessons for Christmas, due to overexposure to the show… But being an industrious bookworm, I quickly got my hands on a copy of the massive “Complete Sherlock Holmes” and kept it as my bedside table book for years: that copy recently fell to pieces form overuse and I had to replace it with a sturdy leather-bound edition.
Besides the obvious emotional attachment I have for these stories, as they have accompanied me as a comfort read since I was about 10 years old, I am always impressed by how timeless the writing is. Unlike his very comical “Lost World”, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle gave the world a collection of stories that always feel fresh with the Holmesian canon: the prose style is clean and never feels dated, the universality of motives behind the crimes investigated by Holmes still ring true, and the characterization of the famous detective and his faithful companion Dr. Watson has risen to an almost mythical level: readers believed in them at the time of the original publication, and modern readers are dying to believe in them now.
The four novels are slightly longer commitments than the short stories, but they are so well constructed, and often genuinely funny and/or scary, so the hugeness of the book shouldn’t discourage you. I have my favorites, obviously, that I can re-read over and over without ever getting bored: • A Study in Scarlett • The Hounds of the Baskervilles • The Sign of Four • Scandal in Bohemia • The Blue Carbuncle • The Copper Beeches • The Musgrave Ritual • The Crooked Man • The Final Problem • The Solitary Cyclist • The Dancing Men • The Six Napoleons • The Devil’s Foot
Sherlock Holmes’s investigation taught me that a sharp mind is one of the greatest asset a person can have. He also made the word “exceedingly” part of my day-to-day vocabulary. For any reader who enjoys cleverness and adventure!...more
"Insensibly he formed the most delightful habit in the world, the habit of reading: he did not know that thus he was providing himself with a refuge f"Insensibly he formed the most delightful habit in the world, the habit of reading: he did not know that thus he was providing himself with a refuge from all the distress of life; he did not know either that he was creating for himself an unreal world which would make the real world of every day a source of bitter disappointment."
Mr. Maugham gave me a very precious gift with "Of Human Bondage"; he gave me a new friend in Philip Carey. As I read through this turn-of-the-century "David Copperfield", I was constantly moved by the honesty with which this character is portrayed. He is flawed, he tries hard, he sometimes takes ridiculously bad decisions - but you can't hate him. You understand why he does the dumb things he does because you've probably been in his shoes at one point or another in your life. I read that this is Maugham's most autobiographical work, and I wonder how true to life it is: I have to admire the humility it would take to write about the excruciating process of growing up from a boy to a young man to an actual man so honestly.
"It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched for they are full of the truthless ideal which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real, they are bruised and wounded. It looks as if they were victims of a conspiracy; for the books they read, ideal by the necessity of selection, and the conversation of their elders, who look back upon the past through a rosy haze of forgetfulness, prepare them for an unreal life. They must discover for themselves that all they have read and all they have been told are lies, lies, lies; and each discovery is another nail driven into the body on the cross of life.”
As plots go, I'm not sure all that much is going on in this novel: a child loses both his parents and is raised by a childless aunt and uncle who have no idea what they are doing. He has no family money, and knows he will one day need to make a living so he studies accounting, only to realize the soullessness of the profession is unbearable, and goes to Paris to attempt being an artist ("I learned to look at hands, which I'd never looked at before. And instead of just looking at houses and trees I learned to look at houses and trees against the sky. And I learned also that shadows are not black but colored."). When that attempt predictably doesn't really work out, he returns to England and decides to follow in his father's footsteps and become a doctor. But his path to success will be severely hindered by an infatuation with a waitress named Mildred.
And yet that simple, and let's face it - timeless, story of growing up, fucking up and getting back up is written with such skill and care that it will stand out on my shelf as one of the best bildungsroman I've had the pleasure of reading.
Maugham's prose, which I first experienced in "The Painted Veil" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), is both intimate and beautiful. It made all of its characters shine vividly in my mind, and I felt like the 700 pages went by in a flash. He captured Philip's psychology very insightfully. His insecurity and fear of rejection make him easily manipulated by the nightmare that is Mildred - and while his mistakes were entirely predictable, his good heart and fundamentally innocent nature broke my heart. I was impressed with his lucidity: he knows suffering will pass, but he also knows that hanging on until the bad patch is over is not easy. It's what ultimately makes him a good doctor. I was outraged every time someone would not give him the helping hand he so often extended to people who did not deserve it in the least bit - but I also wondered if I would have done any different had I been in his shoes.
This is truly a gem of a novel, and Philip is an unforgettable character. Letting him go at the end of the book was hard, but my life was richer from his visit. 5 shining stars....more
This is one of my all-time favorite texts. I have had a copy for as long as I can remember and I re-read it at least once a year and I let the incrediThis is one of my all-time favorite texts. I have had a copy for as long as I can remember and I re-read it at least once a year and I let the incredible writing and the beautiful story wash over me. It never fails to make me feel hopeful and happy.
A very short novella, “L’Homme qui Plantait des Arbres” tells the deceptively simple story of a nameless man who was once wandering through the hills of southern France and met an extraordinary character: Elzéar Bouffier. This old shepherd lived all alone in a small house, tended his flock and planted acorns. This seems like such a waste of time and effort at first, but over the years, the once arid hills slowly become covered in luscious plant life, small abandoned villages are repopulated and the entire country side comes back to life.
The obvious moral of this little tale – even small actions can lead to big changes - is overshadowed by the absolute beauty of the language Giono uses to describe his home country. Along with Pagnol and Daudet, he is one of those writers who have made Provence into this mythical land of sun, cicadas, olive trees, old stone farms and dreams. These men had a gift for making this small part of the world feel more beautiful than anywhere else you can imagine. When I visited Marseille and walked a bit in the country side, their words resonated in my head, their extreme sensitivity to nature perfectly understandable when you stand in the breathtaking landscapes that inspired them.
The story of a lonely old man, who with great care, selflessly reforests an entire desolate region simply because he can is also very inspiring. It reminds me of Buddhist stories about solitary monks and hermits who changed the world with the strength of their loving kindness. Giono’s fable rejuvenates something in me at every read. Not faith, but belief that the toxic modern world is not all there is, that simplicity and beauty still exist and that good people walk around on our planet, often unseen, but changing the universe at an almost molecular level. Deserts can be covered with flowers with enough care and time.
I recommend this deeply moving little book to everyone. It is barely 50 pages, and can be read in a single sitting. I suggest a sun-bathed terrace as your setting and a glass of wine to accompany your reading. This is a tiny book to be savored like a precious vintage....more
It can be hard for people my age and younger to imagine that there was a no-so-distant past when being gay was so taboo that you didn’t even dare to tIt can be hard for people my age and younger to imagine that there was a no-so-distant past when being gay was so taboo that you didn’t even dare to think it. When Highsmith wrote “Carol, or the Price of Salt”, a novel about a lesbian relationship, she knew it could mean the end of her career, but she wrote it anyway and published under a pseudonym. And am I ever glad she did! This is a short, elegant and honest character study focusing on the romantic relationship between a young apprentice stage-designer and a sophisticated housewife, and the consequences this relationship will have on both their lives.
The character of Therese Belivet is just like everyone who falls in love for the first time: vulnerable, naïve, intensely self-conscious. Her lack of experience and candor is charmingly disarming: she seems simply incapable of dishonesty. When she meets the beautiful Carol Aird at the department store where she works, she is instantly smitten – and surprised when Carol returns her interest and invites her on an aimless road trip across the country.
To me, Carol was a heartbreaking character. She spent so long living a life from which she got no satisfaction except her daughter. When her marriage is definitely beyond repair, her husband vindictively attempts to destroy her character and take their child away from her. She is put with her back against the wall, forced to choose between the only good thing to come out of her loveless marriage and the one person with whom she can be herself.
The story is bittersweet and tender, full of the fears and joys that falling in love entails. The characters are not stereotypical in the least and the ending, while ambiguous, suggests hope and happiness for the two women who refused to settle for a life of bland melancholy in a world where appearances are everything. This is a story that could have only taken place at that particular time in history: had it been set today’s New York, no one would have batted an eyelash, but just 50 years ago, it was scandalous.
The interesting subtitle, “The Price of Salt”, feels like an allusion to the sacrifice Therese and Carol have to make to be themselves (the price of being able to really savor and enjoy the taste of life) in a world that is just not ready to accept them. This book moved me very deeply, and I enjoyed every page. The movie adaptation with Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett is also wonderful, visually stunning and very faithful to the book (Therese is a photographer in the movie, instead of a set designer, but that’s the only liberty they have taken with the story). I recommend both, but read the book first! It will make the movie much more enjoyable....more
Pagnol is my favorite writer. He knew when to be funny and when to be touching, created larger-than-life characters and unforgettable stories about huPagnol is my favorite writer. He knew when to be funny and when to be touching, created larger-than-life characters and unforgettable stories about human nature. “Jean de Florette” and “Manon des Sources” are stories I have been reading all my life, and it is very difficult for me to summarize them. The first book is about greed, and how it can rot people’s hearts. The second book is about revenge, and how sometimes life doles out the cruelest punishments without any human interference.
Some spoilers.
Ugolin Soubeyran is not very smart, but he means well. When he gets back to his humble abode near the small village of Les Bastides after his military service, all he wants is to grow carnations and make a simple living from his flowers. His rich, cunning uncle César (also known as “Le Papet”) is more ambitious: why not buy the fine farm of Les Romarins, that has a spring on its land? To make sure they can buy the farm on the cheap, they go plug the spring. But unfortunately for them, Jean Cadoret, a hunchback from “the city”, soon after moves in with his wife Aimée and young daughter Manon – he just inherited the farm from his mother’s estate. César is not worried: without water, they know that Jean won’t be able to get much out of his land, despite his grandiose plans to raise rabbits and grow squashes. Ugolin feels bad about the whole thing, but his uncle manipulates him horribly and they both watch Jean slowly exhaust himself to death trying to farm his land in the drought. They then sweep in, buy the farm from Jean’s now destitute widow and set about to unblock the spring. Little do they know that Manon, who was always suspicious of Ugolin’s servile friendship, has seen them…
A few years pass and Ugolin becomes a very successful grower of carnations. Meanwhile, Manon grows up into a beautiful young woman and lives a bit as a wildling, guarding a flock of goats in the hills. One day, she overhears two men from the villages gossip as they take a break from their hunt. She hears them confirm what she had known all along, that the Soubeyran blocked her father’s spring and caused his ruin; but they also let slip that the entire village knew about it and that no one said a thing, no one helped them - because Jean was a hunchback and because they were city folks. She then decides that she will get revenge, and that while Ugolin and the Papet will pay the harsher price, the rest of the village will go down with them for their odious complicity in her father’s death.
It’s a powerful, tragic, beautifully written story. It has the kind of universality that one usually encounters in much older books: I find it very reminiscent of Greek tragedies and Russian literature. The characterization is complex and finely detailed, the family-centricity of the tale and moral struggles make for a captivating, engrossing read. The ending is probably the most poignant conclusion to any novel I have ever read and I can never get through it without shedding a few tears.
Pagnol was a poet of nature, in love with the little corner of the world where he was born and this love flows off the page. His prose is clear, bittersweet and elegant. If you do not want to go explore Provence after reading this, read it again! He originally wrote those stories as a movie script and then novelized them, fleshing them out even more, painting an epic, lyrical story about family, the powers of the nature he adored and justice. These are remarkable and tragically underrated books (if I judge by how hard it is to get a copy of the English translation…).
The Claude Berri movie adaptation are stunning classics. Yves Montand and Emmanuelle Béart break my heart every time and Daniel Auteuil and Gérard Depardieu are magnificent. The cinematography is breathtaking and the music is haunting. I recommend watching them after reading the books: they are perfect, timeless masterpieces...more
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