17 posts tagged “book review”
I kept this review spoiler-free, so those who haven't read the book can read this if they wish.
This year has been all about the reread, for me. I never reread, at least not a cover-to-cover linear reread, and this year I've done two rereads of teenage favorites: The Count of Monte Cristo and now The Lord of the Rings. Count was a very encouraging experience. It was easy to get back into the story and the story itself was as compelling and exciting as I remembered it to be.
With LoTR, I one day realized that I hadn't read the dang thing in about 4 or 5 years. Now, I was obsessed with Rings as a teen, as I've no doubt written before. I powered through the book in about 3 days, eventually wearing the edges of the pages soft and taping newspaper clippings inside the front pages. As the years went on I didn't reread as much, and the vivid memories of the book faded. The emotions I felt at 14 settled down in the back of my brain somewhere.
So here I am now, approaching 20, with a little more maturity and life experience guiding my reading.
I'm so glad I reread it.
But what can I say about it? It's an enormously popular book and since the movies came out it's even more engrained in popular culture. I am not a good enough writer to say anything new or even very interesting about the immense scope of Middle-Earth or the care put into the crafting of the languages and cultures. I can only talk about what
the story means to me.
It was such a joy reading it for the second time, because I didn't have to worry about the plot. I read slowly, going through the book in roughly a week and a half, savoring the chapters and characters. Passages that felt tedious the first time around were now opportunities to see character growth or exuses to use my imagination to picture the setting and people more vividly.
An a more emotional level, it was like seeing old friends or coming home. That's so stupid and overused, but the easiest way of describing it. I read these books at a time of upheaval in my life. I was 13. It was 5 months from September 11 and 6 months until I entered high school. I was moving into a new house. The Lord of the Rings (book and movie alike) was something noble and epic and comforting that I could fixate on and escape into. I grew to love these characters and the whole world of Middle-Earth: the sweet and spunky hobbits, the fiery men and women of Rohan, the dignified Gondorians, and, of course, the ageless Elves.
I loved seeing them all again. I loved remembering favorite passages and discovering new ones. The Lord of the Rings is truly a classic, both objectively and personally. It's one of the books I'm excited to share with future nieces and nephews, maybe even my own children.
Prior to reading War & Peace, I had no idea at all who the characters were or what the plot was. All I knew was that it was really, really long and widely considered the greatest novel evah. After reading it, I can see why the plot and characters aren't quite woven into our collective conciousness like, say, The Count of Monte Cristo. Even people who have never read it could tell you that it's about revenge. Not so with War & Peace.
First of all, there isn't really a linear, vibrant plot like Count. It meanders a bit, which makes it feel more lifelike but doesn't lend itself very well to synopsis. That's not to say that there aren't any exciting, catch-your-breath bits, because there are. Just not quite as many as other novels I've read.
I also understand why the characters aren't quite as well known. It's because there are approximately 20,000 characters. Not really, but there are a whole lotta peeps in this book. It mainly centers around two families (the Rostovs and the Bolkonskys) and Pierre Bezuhov, the weird, bespectacled loner. But all the peripheral characters are wonderfully realized as well, which is a large part of the book's charm.
THIS PART OF THE REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS.
As soon as I was done reading I rushed online to read others' reviews. I had been waiting for weeks to see what other people thought of the characters and the book in general, so it was nice to break my self-imposed spoiler ban. The only thing I was surprised at was the general sense of disappointment over the first part of the epilogue. True, it did read a little bit like the ending of Harry Potter, with the domestic bliss and all the children named after dead or cherished people. (Although, thank God, the little Russian children got cute names like Petya and Andryusha instead of *snicker* Albus Severus.) But the ending was just so sweet. I liked seeing my characters leading a settled, contented life. I was thrilled to see them all as grown-ups, especially Pierre. Of course he's an excellent father. I was most surprised at how well Nikolay and Marya fit. I always looked at their impending match as being a disaster in the making. They're just so different. I'm glad that poor Marya got the family she wanted, and that Nikolay stands in awe of his wife's spirituality.
This is turning out to be wicked long, and it's just too hot to keep going, so I'm ending now on the note that surprisingly, Pierre was my favorite character by the end. I just like him, the big oddball. I think it's the combination of gentleness, absent-mindedness, and spectacles. Gotta love a guy in specs.
Remember how I was whining about how tough War & Peace was to read? Well, I am pleased to say that it picked up and I am now past page 800. Woo! I'm actually quite proud of myself.
Some random, spoilery thoughts:
- Please, Leo Tolstoy, write more about your characters. They are engrossing and interesting, and quite frankly, I don't care about Napoleon or Alexander one iota.
- I'm struck by how well Tolstoy describes vastly different situations/characters. The spiritual awakening of Pierre and Prince Andrey are similar, but different according to their personalities. He also seems equally comfortable describing the regular family-life of the Rostovs and the emotionally abusive atmosphere of the Bolkonskys.
- I quite enjoy Prince Andrey. That is all.
- I also like Natasha, which is surprising. During the whole Anatole fiasco, though, I'm pretty sure I muttered aloud at the book,"Natasha, you IDIOT!" And then I was sad thinking about how that shite still goes on today.
- Pierre, I like you, but man. Pull it together, dude.
In sum, it's going well so far, and I hope it continues. I expect it will.
Three Men In A Boat (To Say Nothing Of The Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome- This book took me a surprisingly long time to read, considering the fact that it's only 135 pages long. The thing is, pretty much every line deserved my full attention, either for the funny (and shockingly modern) anecdotes or the deautiful descriptions of the Thames.
The premise of the book is pretty simple: three men (the narrator, J., and his friends George and Harris) decide to take a vacation boating down the Thames. Oh yeah, and they also take J.'s dog, Montmorency. That's it. That's the plot.
The real fun is in the writing and the anecdotes. Jerome reminds me a lot of Wodehouse in that they both use language to make even the most everyday situations amusing. I mentioned before that the situations were shockingly modern. For instance, the book begins with the reason for the boat trip. Basically, J. and his friends are hypochondriacs, checking various medical books and pharmacutical ads to find out what horrible diseases they have:
It is a most extraordinary thing, but I never read a patent medicine advertisement without being impelled to the conclusion that I am suffering from the particular disease therin dealt with at its most virulent form.
I mean, people do the exact same thing today with online sites like WebMD, and this was published over 100 years ago!
There are so many more instances, like the incomprehensible (to J.) tendency of tourists to flock to the nearest graveyard to read interesting epitaphs, or the 34/26/23 pound trout on display at a public house that no less than four people claim to have caught. (Of course, the fish turns out to be paper mache.)
It's a pleasure just to read the chapter descriptions at the beginning:
Mrs. P arouses us.---George, the sluggard.---The "weather forecast" swindle.---Our luggage.---Depravity of the small boy.---The people gather round us.---We drive off in great style, and arrive at Waterloo.---Innocence of South Western officials concerning such worldly things as trains.---We are afloat, afloat in an open boat.
Does that not intrigue you??
Grade: A
As a sidenote, I've heard that there is an audiobook of Three Men... read by a certain Hugh Laurie. I haven't heard it myself, but I imagine it's pretty awesome.
The Scarlet Pimpernel, by Baroness Orczy: I felt about this book much as I did about Pride and Prejudice: I liked it, but I didn't love it. I won't carry it around inside me like I do other books. That's fine, but I went in with higher expectations, because I've had friends of mine adore the book and the play. I think part of it was that the other book I recently read about the Terror was so good, or at least spoke to me more.
The biggest problem was that the Scarlet Pimpernel himself was not that engaging, and his daring exploits were talked about rather than seen for most of the book. It did pick up near the end, though, and the last few chapters were quite good. If the whole book had been that engaging I would've liked it better.
There was one thing that I found very intriguing, though, and that was the fact that the story is more or less told from the vantage point of the heroine. It was refreshing to read a story with a human, fleshed-out, prominent woman character. I love old books that feature daring, interesting men, but the women in those stories are almost always bland and are either swoony or Evil. The woman in this story, while occasionally lovesick, is fully human. We get to see her thought processes, her weaknesses, and her ingenuity. It's really quite a treat. Other minor characters are treated similarly. Here's a passage describing how the local innkeeper wishes to shield his daughter from what he thinks are two guests indulging in an adulterous tryst:
[The innkeeper] was all too willing that Sally[, his daughter,] should go to bed. He was beginning not to like these goings-on at all. Still, Lady Blakeney would pay handsomely for the accomodation, and it certainly was no buisiness of his.
Sally arranged a simple dinner...then with a respectful curtsey, she retired, wondering in her little mind why her ladyship looked so serious, when she was about to elope with her gallant.
There are also some amusing observations of human behavior, like the two young English gentleman who, like good Britons, tried to hide their emotions and just ended up looking "immeasurably sheepish".
In sum, it was a nice enough read, but probably not one that I will keep on my bookshelf.
Grade: B
I finished The Count last night. It was much easier to get sucked back in to that story that I originally thought. :-) It was so nice to return to an old favorite. It really was like visiting an old friend that I've thought of affectionately over the years but haven't seen in person.
Some random thoughts, and SPOILERS:
- For whatever reason, I have always felt pity for Villefort, far more than the others. I still did. He just seems to have gotten more crap thrown at him. I mean, Fernand was dishonored and lost his family, but all in one blow. Danglars what, lost his fortune? And was starved for a little bit? Villefort had: his illigitimate (presumed dead) son denounce him in public at his trial, watched his wife horribly kill his parents-in-law, an old servant, and his daughter, then watched her kill herself and discovered she had also killed their son, plus there was a broken engagement and some mind games in there too. I mean, yikes. That's a little....excessive, perhaps? Maybe I just found Villefort a more appealing and interesting character than the other two.
- Why is every character in this book so obsessed with suicide? Killing onself is put forth as a legitimate solution to both bankruptcy and lost love (either by death or by marriage), in addition to the regulars like crushing unhappiness and "dishonor" on the duelling field. Like, Mr Morrel, maybe your devoted wife and daughter would prefer to have you alive and dishonored instead of dead and "honorable". Lame.
One very unpleasant surprise: My book is missing a whole chapter!! Towards the end of the book, there is a reference to the Count's visit to his old prison cell. "Wait a minute," I thought, "I remember that part! But I don't remember reading it this time around." Sure enough, this version of the book is missing a chapter. I am astounded, really, because not only did they reference the missing chapter in the text, but the book is already way over 1,000 pages long. What would they remove one chapter?? Grr.
Well, that's a title I never anticipated typing out! :-) Anyway, I read two books over break, so if you care, here are my reviews, one of a modern bestseller and one of a forgotten classic.
An Irish Country Doctor by Patrick Taylor- I found this book on one of Barnes & Noble's "good books" tables and picked it up, because I've been trying to be a little bit more adventurous with my book-buying. It's a fictional story about a newly-graduated doctor from Belfast and his new life in a small town called Ballybucklebo. (I have no idea how you pronounce that.) The story focuses on the new doctor, Barry, and his unorthodox mentor, Dr. O'Reilly as they tackle eccentric townsfolk and Barry learns about love or whatever.
I liked it, but didn't quite love it. I was expecting it to read like James Herriot, which in retrospect was a somewhat damaging expectation. An Irish Country Doctor was a quick, enjoyable vacation read, but can't compare with the sweetness of James Herriot, who also has the benefit of being, you know, real.
Who would like this book: Anyone on vacation who likes stories about living and learning in a small rural town. Basically, it's a good book to pass along to your mom or aunt or sister for a lazy summer afternoon.
The Knight of Maison-Rouge by Alexandre Dumas- Here's a confession: I don't particularly seek out historical fiction that stars long-dead royalty, and I have adored Alexandre Dumas since the age of 14. So when I saw this novel on the shelf at B&N, I was a little wary. One one hand, Dumas! On the other, "A novel of Marie Antoinette". I stood there wavering for another minute before I picked up the book and read the first line:
It was the night of the tenth of March, 1793. The bell at Notre-Dame had just struck ten, and each stroke rang out clear and distinct, one after the other, before flying off into the ether like a night bird soaring from some bronze nest, sad, monotonous, and resonant.
As soon as I read that line, all the wonderful memories of reading, no, devouring, The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo came flooding back.
I'm so glad I decided to buy it.
The book is just so very Dumas. It's funny and rollicking and satisfying, but has moments of genuine romance and terror. The plot takes place during the Terror, a horrifying time of guillotines and political turmoil. (One unexpected benefit of the book is the crash-course history lesson provided by the many endnotes.) The hero is citizen Maurice Lindey, an honorable Revolutionary and one of Dumas' typical lover-boys. He's still likable, but I found the other leads more appealing, like the witty, verse-spouting Lorin and the gentle, driven Knight of Maison-Rogue. There was also a female lead, something I hadn't really seen before from Dumas. The women in The Three Muskateers were either Evil (Milady) or Annoying (that chambermaid or whatever that D'Art. lusted after). This woman, Genevieve, at times is annoying and swoony. But she's also strong and sassy for much of the book, calling out the men in her life on their selfish, maybe even boorish behavior.
My biggest complaint is with the translation. A review by Charles Taylor summed it up for me: "There are a few glaring anachronisms in Julie Rose's translation, phrases that strike the reader's ear as contemporary. But Dumas' sweeping, dramatic spirit comes through." I'm not a huge fan of translating novels into contemporary language. Books don't need to be archaic, nor do they need to sound like a modern-day workplace. Still, the book is excellent, and the translation was just a minor regret or annoyance.
Who would like this book: Anyone who likes historical fiction, Dumas, adventures, or good stories.
I first picked this up last quarter, since I was on a mystery kick and I had heard that WiW is considered by some to be the first "detective novel". (I guess it's because the book is set up almost like a court proceeding, with witness testimonies. There's not a proper detective, really.) I was also drawn to the cover and title. Simple and evocative.
Unfortunately, I got 10 pages in and had to put it down. I just wasn't in the mood. So on the shelf it went, until this month, when I was trying and failing to get into Villette and got the sudden urge to pick up Woman. Surprisingly, I was hooked right away.
The intro to the book describes it as sensationalist literature, which I guess it is. It's kinda melodramatic (certainly no more so than most Victorian lit) and the characters run mostly on the lines of virtuous/villainous. None of that really matters, though, while you're reading. The characters are likeable, and most get a turn at telling the story, which is neat. The hero of the novel, Walter Hartright, is a likeable guy and the ingenue, Laura Fairlie, isn't nauseating. Plus, Marian Halcombe has a bigger role, and she's awesome. Hurrah for spunky spinsters!
The real treat is Wilkie Collins' powers of description. I got chills more than once while reading. The hem of a woman's gown brushing against the inscription of a gravestone, the sound of rain hitting the canvas covering a corpse...brr! He taps into so many deep-rooted fears. The mad-house, the powerlessness that Victorian women faced, the devious charmer, the ghostly specter of a woman in white...
Yeah. You should read it.
Grade: A
Today I stumbled across an Amazon listing for a children's book that I used to love when I was younger, and had forgotten about. After walking down Memory Lane for awhile and getting frustrated with my roommate who apparently never read children's books as a kid, I thought I'd do a post dedicated to the classics of my past.
Strega Nona: This was the Amazon listing that prompted my remniscences over books gone by. I remember my mom reading us the Strega Nona books, and the charming illustrations that accompanied the story. Strega Nona is the kindly old grandmother witch who has a magic pasta pot, and a bumbling assistant named Big Anthony. It's a sweet story that is (I imagine) as fun for parents to read as it is for the kids to listen to.
Harold and the Purple Crayon: How does a child in this day and age go through life without reading Harold?? Apparently my roommate has, which blows my mind. Maybe it was just really popular with my family. If you're unfamiliar with the story, Harold is a little boy in possesion of a purple crayon, and whatever he draws comes to life. The book follows him as he draws himself a little world. 'Tis very cute. Who can resist a "purple pie picnic"?
The First Forest: I think I may have talked about The First Forest before, but who cares. It's a book that bears repeating. The story is a straightforward fable about jealousy and competition, and how evergreens came to be. The real charm lies in the illustrations. I remember being entranced by the delicate, curled up fern fronds and the colorful swirls of the trees. They're really quite gorgeous, especially to young eyes.
This vacation (the week of Christmas especially) was a big ol' book-fest. I decided to break up the reviews so I don't bore anyone too much. :-)
Around The World In 80 Days, by Jules Verne: I was wandering around Barnes & Noble, looking at their collection of cheap classics, and my eye alighted on Jules Verne's Around the World In 80 Days. As soon as I spotted the title, something clicked. You know how sometimes you get a craving for oatmeal or chicken soup or something? It was like that. It struck a chord of comfort. It reminded me of the time I spent reading a short, illustrated 'children's classic' version in the family room at Nana's house.
Reading the full version for the first time, some eight years later, was a joy. It was the perfect book to curl up with on a snowy evening, this romp around the world of the 1870s.
Around the World In 80 Days follows the adventures of the reserved but generous Phileas Fogg and his new servant Passepartout as they try to win a wager by travelling around the world in...you know. (As a sidenote, how fabulous is the name Phileas Fogg?? Say it out loud for the full effect. I am so in love with that name.) As you've probably guessed, there are all sorts of mini-adventures along the way as obstacles present themselves, some more far-fetched than others. The improbable adventure stuff didn't really bother me, though, as it's such a fun and good-natured book. The ending is especially satisfying to me, with the last several lines being the best in the book.
Recommended to: anyone with a love for adventure stories (think Indiana Jones) or a feel-good read.
Grade: A
Mulliner Nights, by P.G. Wodehouse: I was a little reluctant to pick this one up, just because I usually prefer to read a series by Wodehouse, with consistent characters, rather than stories centered around "strangers". As soon as I read the first chapter, though, I knew that I was going to enjoy Mr. Mulliner and the odd stories he tells.
The book is centered around Mr. Mulliner, who functions as the storyteller of Angler's Rest, an English pub. His stories are all about different relatives of his, and the improbable scrapes they get into.
The blurb on the back of the book described it as "whimsical", and I can't think of a better word for it. The stories are funny, silly, and thoroughly enjoyable, and most of them contain light-hearted social commentary as well. One of my favorite stories, for instance, centers around the lovers of the mystery novel and their insatiable thirst to "find out what happens".
Recommended to: readers of P.G. Wodehouse and anyone else who appreciates light-hearted and somewhat wacky stories.
Grade: A
