The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
The Unbearable Lightness of Being is Milan Kundera's fifth novel. Following its publication in France in 1984, it was banned from communist Czechoslovakia, largely due to the writers questioning of the regime and his Czech origins. Intrigued by the title but pleasantly plagued by a pile of books to read, it took me a while before I finally made it to Kundera.
The novel doesn't follow a linear structure, rather it has seven main sections with individual chapters contained within (eg. Lightness and Weight, Soul and Body, Words Misunderstood). The way Kundera references earlier events makes the order of the book feel very natural, because it mimics the course of unforced, retrospective contemplation. The story revolves around four main characters, Tomas, Tereza, Sabina and Franz. There's also Karenin, a Saint Bernard/German Shepherd cross with a penchant for early morning bread rolls.
Kundera is incredibly philosophical. After living in Zurich for a number of years, Tereza moves back to Prague and Tomas decides to follow her. After informing the director of the hospital about his resignation, he shrugs his shoulders and says: "Es muss sein". In German, this phrase translates to "It must be". In his last major work, String Quartet No. 16, Beethoven scribbles something beneath the first chords of the last movement: "Muss es sein? (Must it be?) Es muss sein! Es muss sein!" Apparently, the pianist "viewed weight as something positive", linking heaviness to value and necessity. The Greek philosopher Parmenides on the other hand, seeing the world as "divided into pairs of opposites" believed lightness was good, therefore weight bad. Although Kundera leans towards Beethoven's perspective, he doesn't blatantly disrespect Parmenides. I like the way he's able to present two different viewpoints without discounting one of them. When Sabina finds herself in Paris without the married lovers she's used to, alone and devoid of feeling, she experiences "the unbearable lightness of being". This particular experience isn't limited to romance, however, "from the depths of her being, a silly mawkish song about two shining windows and the happy family living behind them would occasionally make its way into the unbearable lightness of being".
Beethoven happened to be playing in the hotel restaurant when Tomas asked Tereza for a cognac. He asked her to charge the cost of the drink to his room, number 6. Tereza lived in house number 6 just before her parents divorced, and her shift finished at 6pm that day (though Tomas's train left at 7). "Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (Beethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life". Such was the case with Tereza. "Impelled by the birds of fortuity" she boarded the train to Prague. It is these motifs that add meaning to our lives. When Sabina puts on the bowler hat Tomas was so fond of, Franz finds himself feeling "uncomfortable, as if someone had spoken to him in a language he did not know." Despite having told each other their stories, Franz and Sabina "failed to hear the semantic susurrus of the river flowing through them". Kundera then goes through a small dictionary of their misunderstandings. Kundera's poeticism doesn't stop there. Walking the streets of New York with Sabina, Franz tells her the city's beauty is "unintentional", "forms which are in themselves quite ugly turn up fortuitously, without design, in such incredible surroundings that they sparkle with a sudden wondrous poetry." In reply, "Sabina said, 'Unintentional beauty. Yes. Another way of putting it might be "beauty by mistake." The quotes above really resonated with me, Kundera has given words to thoughts I previously thought inefffable. Here's another one. "Love begins with a metaphor. Which is to say, love begins at the point when a woman enters her first words into our poetic memory."
I'm not going to spoil the ending for you, or relay the majority of the plot for that instance. But I will say that Tomas writes an article encouraging politicians to acknowledge their crimes and its publication delivers him a heavy moral burden. The book has strong political undertones.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being took me over two months to read, mainly due to general life busyness, but also because I re-read a number of sentences multiple times to let them sink in. I have one qualm, though. A complaint which cannot go unmentioned. On the brink of cheating on Tomas, Tereza changes her mind. The man she's with ignores her when she decides not to sleep with him, and what follows then is a despicable attempt at justifying rape. "The excitement she felt was all the greater because she was excited against her will." Milan Kundera, as much as I love your work, this line disgusts me.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
The novel doesn't follow a linear structure, rather it has seven main sections with individual chapters contained within (eg. Lightness and Weight, Soul and Body, Words Misunderstood). The way Kundera references earlier events makes the order of the book feel very natural, because it mimics the course of unforced, retrospective contemplation. The story revolves around four main characters, Tomas, Tereza, Sabina and Franz. There's also Karenin, a Saint Bernard/German Shepherd cross with a penchant for early morning bread rolls.
Kundera is incredibly philosophical. After living in Zurich for a number of years, Tereza moves back to Prague and Tomas decides to follow her. After informing the director of the hospital about his resignation, he shrugs his shoulders and says: "Es muss sein". In German, this phrase translates to "It must be". In his last major work, String Quartet No. 16, Beethoven scribbles something beneath the first chords of the last movement: "Muss es sein? (Must it be?) Es muss sein! Es muss sein!" Apparently, the pianist "viewed weight as something positive", linking heaviness to value and necessity. The Greek philosopher Parmenides on the other hand, seeing the world as "divided into pairs of opposites" believed lightness was good, therefore weight bad. Although Kundera leans towards Beethoven's perspective, he doesn't blatantly disrespect Parmenides. I like the way he's able to present two different viewpoints without discounting one of them. When Sabina finds herself in Paris without the married lovers she's used to, alone and devoid of feeling, she experiences "the unbearable lightness of being". This particular experience isn't limited to romance, however, "from the depths of her being, a silly mawkish song about two shining windows and the happy family living behind them would occasionally make its way into the unbearable lightness of being".
Beethoven happened to be playing in the hotel restaurant when Tomas asked Tereza for a cognac. He asked her to charge the cost of the drink to his room, number 6. Tereza lived in house number 6 just before her parents divorced, and her shift finished at 6pm that day (though Tomas's train left at 7). "Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (Beethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life". Such was the case with Tereza. "Impelled by the birds of fortuity" she boarded the train to Prague. It is these motifs that add meaning to our lives. When Sabina puts on the bowler hat Tomas was so fond of, Franz finds himself feeling "uncomfortable, as if someone had spoken to him in a language he did not know." Despite having told each other their stories, Franz and Sabina "failed to hear the semantic susurrus of the river flowing through them". Kundera then goes through a small dictionary of their misunderstandings. Kundera's poeticism doesn't stop there. Walking the streets of New York with Sabina, Franz tells her the city's beauty is "unintentional", "forms which are in themselves quite ugly turn up fortuitously, without design, in such incredible surroundings that they sparkle with a sudden wondrous poetry." In reply, "Sabina said, 'Unintentional beauty. Yes. Another way of putting it might be "beauty by mistake." The quotes above really resonated with me, Kundera has given words to thoughts I previously thought inefffable. Here's another one. "Love begins with a metaphor. Which is to say, love begins at the point when a woman enters her first words into our poetic memory."
I'm not going to spoil the ending for you, or relay the majority of the plot for that instance. But I will say that Tomas writes an article encouraging politicians to acknowledge their crimes and its publication delivers him a heavy moral burden. The book has strong political undertones.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being took me over two months to read, mainly due to general life busyness, but also because I re-read a number of sentences multiple times to let them sink in. I have one qualm, though. A complaint which cannot go unmentioned. On the brink of cheating on Tomas, Tereza changes her mind. The man she's with ignores her when she decides not to sleep with him, and what follows then is a despicable attempt at justifying rape. "The excitement she felt was all the greater because she was excited against her will." Milan Kundera, as much as I love your work, this line disgusts me.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
Hot Flashes by Barbara Raskin
Barbara Raskin was a political activist, journalist, teacher and doting mother. Hot Flashes (HF) is her fourth novel, proudly sitting on the New York Times bestseller list for five months following its publication in 1987. HF was her most highly appraised book, and in the glow of her success she felt she’d “been waiting a long time to say something.” As a reader new to her work, I turned the front cover curious and intrigued.
The majority of the story is told from Diana’s perspective, an anthropology professor at Columbia. She’s also one of Sukie’s oldest and closest friends, a fellow activist whose premature death forces a variety of personalities to gather in her Washington home. Among these are Elaine and Joanna, aged fifty and forty-three respectively. Together, the four women spent years fighting for civil rights and raising children. Diana calls them “Depression Era Babies”, people who, like herself, were “born during the Great Depression [to] bankrupt fathers and frightened mothers”. While coming to terms with their friend’s death, the women are faced with the challenge of navigating a rocky social terrain. The appearance of Sukie’s ex husband Max Amram and her (previously unheard of) lover Jeff Conroy adds significant conflict to an already difficult situation. Throw her stubborn daughter, pissed off father and emotional aunt into the mix and you get a clash of characters that makes for an entertaining read. Underpinning the narrative is the issue of who should take control of the novelist’s nearly finished manuscript, which follows an eye-opening path to its resolution.
Hot Flashes is not a book for plot hungry readers with short attention spans. The bulk of the story is provided retrospectively, which lends it a slow pace well suited to literary fiction fans. The discovery of Sukie’s diary works well to provide insight into the lives of those grieving for the novelist. I admire the detail Raskin goes into with her characters, their idiosyncrasies ensure we haven’t met them before. There are a number of laugh out loud moments throughout HF as well as a bunch of unsettlingly morbid ones (particularly in the “Here Are Some Things I’ve Heard Lately” section of Sukie’s journal).
As a 23 year old, I’m somewhat limited in my ability to relate to the women in Hot Flashes. It’s also worth noting we grew up in very different eras, which have shaped the expectations we have for our lives. “Back in the fifties, because we couldn’t think of anything else to do, we carefully selected our china, glassware and silver patterns, registered at the nearest department stores, and got married so that we could proceed with our lives. Enthusiastically we embraced that institution which allowed us to abuse ourselves, antagonize our husbands, indulge our lovers, ruin our careers and spoil our children.” Regardless of our differences, I enjoyed Raskin’s book for its humour and quirkiness.
Hot Flashes has recently been made available in eBook form for the very first time! Thanks to Open Road Media, you can pick up a copy with the click of a button. My heartfelt thanks to Greta for providing mine.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
The majority of the story is told from Diana’s perspective, an anthropology professor at Columbia. She’s also one of Sukie’s oldest and closest friends, a fellow activist whose premature death forces a variety of personalities to gather in her Washington home. Among these are Elaine and Joanna, aged fifty and forty-three respectively. Together, the four women spent years fighting for civil rights and raising children. Diana calls them “Depression Era Babies”, people who, like herself, were “born during the Great Depression [to] bankrupt fathers and frightened mothers”. While coming to terms with their friend’s death, the women are faced with the challenge of navigating a rocky social terrain. The appearance of Sukie’s ex husband Max Amram and her (previously unheard of) lover Jeff Conroy adds significant conflict to an already difficult situation. Throw her stubborn daughter, pissed off father and emotional aunt into the mix and you get a clash of characters that makes for an entertaining read. Underpinning the narrative is the issue of who should take control of the novelist’s nearly finished manuscript, which follows an eye-opening path to its resolution.
Hot Flashes is not a book for plot hungry readers with short attention spans. The bulk of the story is provided retrospectively, which lends it a slow pace well suited to literary fiction fans. The discovery of Sukie’s diary works well to provide insight into the lives of those grieving for the novelist. I admire the detail Raskin goes into with her characters, their idiosyncrasies ensure we haven’t met them before. There are a number of laugh out loud moments throughout HF as well as a bunch of unsettlingly morbid ones (particularly in the “Here Are Some Things I’ve Heard Lately” section of Sukie’s journal).
As a 23 year old, I’m somewhat limited in my ability to relate to the women in Hot Flashes. It’s also worth noting we grew up in very different eras, which have shaped the expectations we have for our lives. “Back in the fifties, because we couldn’t think of anything else to do, we carefully selected our china, glassware and silver patterns, registered at the nearest department stores, and got married so that we could proceed with our lives. Enthusiastically we embraced that institution which allowed us to abuse ourselves, antagonize our husbands, indulge our lovers, ruin our careers and spoil our children.” Regardless of our differences, I enjoyed Raskin’s book for its humour and quirkiness.
Hot Flashes has recently been made available in eBook form for the very first time! Thanks to Open Road Media, you can pick up a copy with the click of a button. My heartfelt thanks to Greta for providing mine.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself (A road trip with David Foster Wallace) by David Lipsky
Every year the Perth International Arts festival selects a number of award-winning films from around the world and screens them at two outdoor cinemas on opposite ends of the city. When I received my brochure towards the end of 2015, The End of the Tour caught my eye, the film adaptation for Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself. I don’t often go to the cinema on my own, but one Monday night after work I bought myself a ticket and in the balmy Somerville Auditorium watched Jason Segel and Jesse Eisenberg speak truth after truth about addiction, humanity and American culture. In 1996, Rolling Stone reporter David Lipsky joined his idol David Foster Wallace (DFW) for the final leg of his Infinite Jest book tour. Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself is a transcript of conversations the pair shared as they road-tripped in Lipsky’s rental car, flew from Chicago to Minneapolis and, of course, dined in various fast food outlets along the way. The book wasn’t published until 2010, two years after David Foster Wallace committed suicide at the age of 46. As the credits rolled and I carried an unused blanket back to my car, I decided to learn more about his thoughts and experiences and see what else he could teach me about being alive. Crow Books soon received an order request, and, as usual, delivered it with lightning speed.
On the very first day, DFW tells Lipsky “I need to know that anything that I ask you five minutes later to not put in, you won’t put in.” He exercises his right to discretion by flicking off the tape recorder when the topic of conversation is too revealing, or he’d like to take his ideas for a test run before they’re recorded. Their interaction is underpinned by a lingering, immovable conflict: Lipsky considers DFW to be a genius of sorts, a cut above the rest (as does his vast readership). At the same time, DFW “treasures” his “regular guyness” because it allows him to connect with the reader, the average Joe reading his work. So he doesn’t approve of the reporter’s perception, which is ironic because the quality of his writing is based entirely on his achieving human connection. The Pulitzer prize nominee aims to prove he doesn’t have a swollen head by mirroring the applicable questions from time to time and essentially interviewing the man interviewing him. This contrasts in a fascinating way with their discussion of shyness at the beginning of the book. DFW is an incredibly self-conscious person, and as someone who considers himself to be shy, he states it “basically means being self absorbed to the extent that it makes it difficult to be around other people.” Make of that what you will.
Having just discovered that Bloomington-Normal airport is iced over and WILL NOT be allowing departures, Lipsky and DFW take to the road en route to Chicago. On a slushy highway with the wipers battering the windscreen, DFW discusses television addiction. “I’ll watch five or six, I’ll zone out in front of the TV for five or six hours, and then I feel depressed and empty.” He quickly suggests a reason for this. “One of the things that makes TV seductive, is that it gives the illusion of relationships with people. It’s a way to have people in the room talking and being entertaining, but it doesn’t require anything of me. […] One of the differences about having a real person there is that number one, I’ve gotta do some work. […] The stress level goes up. But there’s also, there’s something nourishing about it.” DFW likens the small screen to candy, in that “it’s more pleasurable and easier than the real food.” There’s a part of me that wishes DFW were around to consider one of today’s biggest addictions, social media. If you replace “TV” with “Facebook” (or Tumblr, YouTube, Twitter etc) in the quotes above, I think the same logic can apply under certain circumstances. I personally start to feel empty if I’m on Facebook for very long, and make a conscious effort to restrict the amount of time I spend on there.
DFW considers it our job, as humans, “to learn how to live in a way that we’re not terrified all the time. And not in a position of using all kinds of different things, and using people to keep that kind of terror at bay.” Perhaps one aspect of this fear is the fear of never being truly satisfied with your accomplishments and the disappointment that comes from having unmet expectations. DFW observes about his own life that “no pleasure is enough” and “if there is a sort of sadness for people – I don’t know what, under forty-five or something? – it has to do with pleasure and achievement and entertainment. And a kind of emptiness at the heart of what they thought was going on.” Lipsky wonders if this can be dealt with by “internal means” and DFW suggests that yes, it can be, if we “treat ourselves the way we would treat a really good, precious friend”, or, more simply put, by “lovin’ yourself.”
The two Davids continually return to the themes of writing and reading, for obvious reasons. However, being multifaceted humans as we all are, they touch on a bunch of other topics including films, Alanis Morisette, relationships, drugs, depression, the odd jobs DFW has taken to support himself, and his dislike of McDonald's pickles. Because the majority of the book consists of conversations, I think it’s a great learning tool for writers who want to get better at writing dialogue. Throughout Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, Lipsky provides commentary separate to the discussion, to the give the reader a feel for the setting. One of my personal favourites relates to Jeeves and Drone, DFW’s canine friends. “As I get closer to the dogs, David likes me better too; has that pet owner’s helpless, natural, unavoidable faith in his dogs taste.”
I don’t usually do star ratings for books, but I’d give this one a five out of five, for being gold just like the stickers it deserves.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
On the very first day, DFW tells Lipsky “I need to know that anything that I ask you five minutes later to not put in, you won’t put in.” He exercises his right to discretion by flicking off the tape recorder when the topic of conversation is too revealing, or he’d like to take his ideas for a test run before they’re recorded. Their interaction is underpinned by a lingering, immovable conflict: Lipsky considers DFW to be a genius of sorts, a cut above the rest (as does his vast readership). At the same time, DFW “treasures” his “regular guyness” because it allows him to connect with the reader, the average Joe reading his work. So he doesn’t approve of the reporter’s perception, which is ironic because the quality of his writing is based entirely on his achieving human connection. The Pulitzer prize nominee aims to prove he doesn’t have a swollen head by mirroring the applicable questions from time to time and essentially interviewing the man interviewing him. This contrasts in a fascinating way with their discussion of shyness at the beginning of the book. DFW is an incredibly self-conscious person, and as someone who considers himself to be shy, he states it “basically means being self absorbed to the extent that it makes it difficult to be around other people.” Make of that what you will.
Having just discovered that Bloomington-Normal airport is iced over and WILL NOT be allowing departures, Lipsky and DFW take to the road en route to Chicago. On a slushy highway with the wipers battering the windscreen, DFW discusses television addiction. “I’ll watch five or six, I’ll zone out in front of the TV for five or six hours, and then I feel depressed and empty.” He quickly suggests a reason for this. “One of the things that makes TV seductive, is that it gives the illusion of relationships with people. It’s a way to have people in the room talking and being entertaining, but it doesn’t require anything of me. […] One of the differences about having a real person there is that number one, I’ve gotta do some work. […] The stress level goes up. But there’s also, there’s something nourishing about it.” DFW likens the small screen to candy, in that “it’s more pleasurable and easier than the real food.” There’s a part of me that wishes DFW were around to consider one of today’s biggest addictions, social media. If you replace “TV” with “Facebook” (or Tumblr, YouTube, Twitter etc) in the quotes above, I think the same logic can apply under certain circumstances. I personally start to feel empty if I’m on Facebook for very long, and make a conscious effort to restrict the amount of time I spend on there.
DFW considers it our job, as humans, “to learn how to live in a way that we’re not terrified all the time. And not in a position of using all kinds of different things, and using people to keep that kind of terror at bay.” Perhaps one aspect of this fear is the fear of never being truly satisfied with your accomplishments and the disappointment that comes from having unmet expectations. DFW observes about his own life that “no pleasure is enough” and “if there is a sort of sadness for people – I don’t know what, under forty-five or something? – it has to do with pleasure and achievement and entertainment. And a kind of emptiness at the heart of what they thought was going on.” Lipsky wonders if this can be dealt with by “internal means” and DFW suggests that yes, it can be, if we “treat ourselves the way we would treat a really good, precious friend”, or, more simply put, by “lovin’ yourself.”
The two Davids continually return to the themes of writing and reading, for obvious reasons. However, being multifaceted humans as we all are, they touch on a bunch of other topics including films, Alanis Morisette, relationships, drugs, depression, the odd jobs DFW has taken to support himself, and his dislike of McDonald's pickles. Because the majority of the book consists of conversations, I think it’s a great learning tool for writers who want to get better at writing dialogue. Throughout Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, Lipsky provides commentary separate to the discussion, to the give the reader a feel for the setting. One of my personal favourites relates to Jeeves and Drone, DFW’s canine friends. “As I get closer to the dogs, David likes me better too; has that pet owner’s helpless, natural, unavoidable faith in his dogs taste.”
I don’t usually do star ratings for books, but I’d give this one a five out of five, for being gold just like the stickers it deserves.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan
Will Grayson, Will Grayson is a collaboration between YA authors John Green and David Levithan. It was first published in 2010 by The Text Publishing Company and has since been reprinted in a range of quirky covers. Having enjoyed each writer’s previous work, I couldn’t resist WG WG when I spotted it in a pile of books a friend was taking to a second-hand bookstore.
There are two Will Grayson’s in Will Grayson, Will Grayson, as the title suggests. Green would write a chapter from the perspective of one WG and email it to Levithan, who would reply by writing the next chapter through the eyes of the other. The book begins during a pre-calc class where the first Will introduces us to his friend Tiny Cooper, who despite his name is a tall, muscular football player. Tiny squeezes himself into his chair-desk, turns to his friend and “whispers really loudly, because secretly he wants other people to hear, “I’m in love.”” Will rolls his eyes because “he falls in love every hour on the hour.” Billy, we soon learn, is responsible. In the first chapter we also meet good-music-taste Jane, who along with Tiny and their friend Gary are members of the school’s GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance). Will doesn’t know her very well, hence his asking Tiny if Jane belongs to “the gay part” or “the straight part”. Unfortunately, he receives a painfully vague answer, because even Tiny isn’t sure.
The first sentence of the second chapter tells us a lot about the other Will Grayson: “i am constantly torn between killing myself and killing everyone around me.” For a year he’s been messaging Isaac, a guy he met in a forum about a singer they both like. When the pair decide to meet, Will suffers from a serious case of “what-do-i-wear” when “every single goddamn piece of clothing [has chosen] to reveal its faults”, as it tends to do at the worst of times. After much deliberation over his hair he decides not to comb it because “it usually looks better when it’s windy” anyway, and sets off for Chicago with a map in his pocket. When he arrives at Frenchy’s with “sweaty palms” and “shaky bones”, he’s shocked to discover that it’s…. a porn shop.
Inside is the other Will Grayson, whose fake ID has just been rejected from “the Storage Room”, a bar across the street where Tiny and Jane are watching a gig. Tiny’s Will is killing time when he stumbles across the other one, and an awkward encounter with the pierced shopkeeper reveals to the two boys that they share the same name. Anxious and unsure because his date hasn’t turned up, Isaac’s Will follows the other out of the store and onto the curb where the pair sit down and explain who they are. That’s when IW gets a phone call from his friend Maura, who reveals that she was in fact pretending to be Isaac because she was suspicious Will was gay and wanted to catch him in the act. What a bitch. When Tiny and Jane turn up, IW is having a full on meltdown complete with tears and screaming. Tiny seems to be the only one that can console him, so Jane and the other Will leave them alone and go for a walk.
Both pairs end up together, and the rest of the book follows the rocky course of their relationships while in the background Tiny produces his musical Tiny Dancer for the school. We see the interference of Jane’s sort-of-boyfriend, Tiny meeting Will’s mum, and an unexpected break-up. I won’t tell you which couple because spoilers (as if I haven’t already given you enough). The end of Will Grayson, Will Grayson is one of the most powerful parts of the book. Tiny Dancer concludes with Tiny on a swing, swinging higher and higher and higher until he purposefully falls onto the stage and starts singing about how “it’s all about falling” no matter where you land.
The two Will Grayson’s are very distinct in their personalities, one follows his parents advice almost religiously while the other is more of a rebel. This works in the authors’ favour because it allows for a dynamic narrative that dodges all clichés. I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out which WG each writer is responsible for, because I recognize Green’s habit of writing about characters with seemingly unremarkable lives until something exciting happens (ie Looking for Alaska and Paper Towns). I enjoyed this story more than their individual work, which is really saying something because they’re both very good writers.
Will Grayson, Will Grayson has left me with a hangover. Usually when I finish a book, I write a review, or don’t, and just start up on the next one. I’ve tried to read TWO books since I finished WGWG and have failed miserably. I devoured it in three days and am now wandering around like a lost soul because nothing I’ve tried EVEN COMES CLOSE to being as emotive. At one point I was reading in the living room, and some homophobic bullshit appeared on the television. Pissed off and seething, I looked at Will Grayson, Will Grayson in my hands and started smiling, grateful for the John Greens and David Levithans of the world.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
There are two Will Grayson’s in Will Grayson, Will Grayson, as the title suggests. Green would write a chapter from the perspective of one WG and email it to Levithan, who would reply by writing the next chapter through the eyes of the other. The book begins during a pre-calc class where the first Will introduces us to his friend Tiny Cooper, who despite his name is a tall, muscular football player. Tiny squeezes himself into his chair-desk, turns to his friend and “whispers really loudly, because secretly he wants other people to hear, “I’m in love.”” Will rolls his eyes because “he falls in love every hour on the hour.” Billy, we soon learn, is responsible. In the first chapter we also meet good-music-taste Jane, who along with Tiny and their friend Gary are members of the school’s GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance). Will doesn’t know her very well, hence his asking Tiny if Jane belongs to “the gay part” or “the straight part”. Unfortunately, he receives a painfully vague answer, because even Tiny isn’t sure.
The first sentence of the second chapter tells us a lot about the other Will Grayson: “i am constantly torn between killing myself and killing everyone around me.” For a year he’s been messaging Isaac, a guy he met in a forum about a singer they both like. When the pair decide to meet, Will suffers from a serious case of “what-do-i-wear” when “every single goddamn piece of clothing [has chosen] to reveal its faults”, as it tends to do at the worst of times. After much deliberation over his hair he decides not to comb it because “it usually looks better when it’s windy” anyway, and sets off for Chicago with a map in his pocket. When he arrives at Frenchy’s with “sweaty palms” and “shaky bones”, he’s shocked to discover that it’s…. a porn shop.
Inside is the other Will Grayson, whose fake ID has just been rejected from “the Storage Room”, a bar across the street where Tiny and Jane are watching a gig. Tiny’s Will is killing time when he stumbles across the other one, and an awkward encounter with the pierced shopkeeper reveals to the two boys that they share the same name. Anxious and unsure because his date hasn’t turned up, Isaac’s Will follows the other out of the store and onto the curb where the pair sit down and explain who they are. That’s when IW gets a phone call from his friend Maura, who reveals that she was in fact pretending to be Isaac because she was suspicious Will was gay and wanted to catch him in the act. What a bitch. When Tiny and Jane turn up, IW is having a full on meltdown complete with tears and screaming. Tiny seems to be the only one that can console him, so Jane and the other Will leave them alone and go for a walk.
Both pairs end up together, and the rest of the book follows the rocky course of their relationships while in the background Tiny produces his musical Tiny Dancer for the school. We see the interference of Jane’s sort-of-boyfriend, Tiny meeting Will’s mum, and an unexpected break-up. I won’t tell you which couple because spoilers (as if I haven’t already given you enough). The end of Will Grayson, Will Grayson is one of the most powerful parts of the book. Tiny Dancer concludes with Tiny on a swing, swinging higher and higher and higher until he purposefully falls onto the stage and starts singing about how “it’s all about falling” no matter where you land.
The two Will Grayson’s are very distinct in their personalities, one follows his parents advice almost religiously while the other is more of a rebel. This works in the authors’ favour because it allows for a dynamic narrative that dodges all clichés. I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out which WG each writer is responsible for, because I recognize Green’s habit of writing about characters with seemingly unremarkable lives until something exciting happens (ie Looking for Alaska and Paper Towns). I enjoyed this story more than their individual work, which is really saying something because they’re both very good writers.
Will Grayson, Will Grayson has left me with a hangover. Usually when I finish a book, I write a review, or don’t, and just start up on the next one. I’ve tried to read TWO books since I finished WGWG and have failed miserably. I devoured it in three days and am now wandering around like a lost soul because nothing I’ve tried EVEN COMES CLOSE to being as emotive. At one point I was reading in the living room, and some homophobic bullshit appeared on the television. Pissed off and seething, I looked at Will Grayson, Will Grayson in my hands and started smiling, grateful for the John Greens and David Levithans of the world.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
Last Night in Montreal by Emily St.John Mandel
Last year I visited Montreal during a Contiki tour through Canada and the US. I fell in love with the city’s architecture, it’s charm, Avenue Mont Royal, the efficiency of the metro system, the pink beads that hang across Rue Sainte-Catherine, the contemporary art museum, the friendliness of the locals and so on. When I discovered “Last Night in Montreal” I knew I had to read it, if only to satisfy my nostalgia.
The book begins with: “No one stays forever. On the morning of her disappearance Lilia woke early, and lay still for a moment in bed.” Naturally, the reader’s interest is piqued from the get go: Why did Lilia decide to disappear? Where did she go? Who did she leave behind? In the second chapter Mandel jumps straight back to Lilia’s childhood and we learn that she was abducted by her father at the age of seven, a crime followed by years of transcontinental driving, motel rooms and a fading map on the dashboard. When he finally settles in New Mexico with his new wife, sixteen year old Lilia finds herself restless. She commences solo travelling which takes her to numerous cities including San Diego, Chicago, and New York, just to name a few. In Brooklyn she forms a relationship with Eli, a linguistics student who pays the bills by working at an art gallery. His role? To sell art he doesn’t believe in. Unlike Lilia, Eli isn’t much of a traveller, but when he hears news that his girlfriend has turned up in Montreal he decides to follow her there. For a significant portion of her travels Lilia is followed by Christopher, a private detective hired by her mother. As she grows older he becomes more and more obsessed, and his time away from home (Montreal) leads to the destruction of his marriage and Christopher’s relationship with his own daughter Michaela. It is she who lures Lilia away from New York and lets Eli know she’s in Montreal. However, Eli and Michaela’s acquaintance becomes a fragile and suspicious one – she’ll only give him Lilia’s address in exchange for information he swore never to divulge.
“Last Night in Montreal” uses third person omniscient perspective to give us insight into the thoughts and feelings of all the central characters, creating a narrative that isn’t just about Lilia but the effect she has on other people. As I mentioned before, the book starts when Lilia is an adult and quickly returns to her childhood. I wasn’t prepared for the chopping and changing between different eras and characters, unfortunately it can feel very sudden at times. That said, I quickly grew accustomed to this and by the time I was several chapters in it felt like the norm. The title and blurb of the book led me to believe that most of it would be set in Montreal. I must admit I was disappointed that this wasn’t the case. However, as I learnt more about the characters and their history, I grew so interested in how the story would resolve that I was hooked. This is testament to Mandel’s skill and ability as a writer. It only took me a week and a half to read this book, and as a slowish reader that’s a sign that I very much enjoyed it.
I absolutely loved the parts that were set in Montreal. It was July when I visited, and very hot. The skin soaking jet boat ride that we took on the Lachine Rapids was a welcome reprieve. I wouldn’t want to take one during the freezing cold in which the novel was set. And that’s one of the reasons I liked this book so much – it showed me the city in winter. Towards the end of the book Michaela and Eli are sitting on icy steps in the Place des Arts with chattering teeth and numb toes, genuinely concerned that they may die in the cold. After visiting the contemporary art museum I sat on the same steps with an unfolded map in my hands, wondering where to go next (the cobblestone streets of Old Montreal, via Chinatown). The best books transport you, and Last Night in Montreal certainly did that for me. I’d like to quote one particular sentence, but unfortunately I haven’t been able to find it to copy it word for word. Mandel comments on the gray light that takes hold of the sky during dawn in the northern hemisphere. I’d like to tell her that the southern hemisphere sky takes on a similar hue before the sun comes up, and it’s the most beautiful time of the day.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
The book begins with: “No one stays forever. On the morning of her disappearance Lilia woke early, and lay still for a moment in bed.” Naturally, the reader’s interest is piqued from the get go: Why did Lilia decide to disappear? Where did she go? Who did she leave behind? In the second chapter Mandel jumps straight back to Lilia’s childhood and we learn that she was abducted by her father at the age of seven, a crime followed by years of transcontinental driving, motel rooms and a fading map on the dashboard. When he finally settles in New Mexico with his new wife, sixteen year old Lilia finds herself restless. She commences solo travelling which takes her to numerous cities including San Diego, Chicago, and New York, just to name a few. In Brooklyn she forms a relationship with Eli, a linguistics student who pays the bills by working at an art gallery. His role? To sell art he doesn’t believe in. Unlike Lilia, Eli isn’t much of a traveller, but when he hears news that his girlfriend has turned up in Montreal he decides to follow her there. For a significant portion of her travels Lilia is followed by Christopher, a private detective hired by her mother. As she grows older he becomes more and more obsessed, and his time away from home (Montreal) leads to the destruction of his marriage and Christopher’s relationship with his own daughter Michaela. It is she who lures Lilia away from New York and lets Eli know she’s in Montreal. However, Eli and Michaela’s acquaintance becomes a fragile and suspicious one – she’ll only give him Lilia’s address in exchange for information he swore never to divulge.
“Last Night in Montreal” uses third person omniscient perspective to give us insight into the thoughts and feelings of all the central characters, creating a narrative that isn’t just about Lilia but the effect she has on other people. As I mentioned before, the book starts when Lilia is an adult and quickly returns to her childhood. I wasn’t prepared for the chopping and changing between different eras and characters, unfortunately it can feel very sudden at times. That said, I quickly grew accustomed to this and by the time I was several chapters in it felt like the norm. The title and blurb of the book led me to believe that most of it would be set in Montreal. I must admit I was disappointed that this wasn’t the case. However, as I learnt more about the characters and their history, I grew so interested in how the story would resolve that I was hooked. This is testament to Mandel’s skill and ability as a writer. It only took me a week and a half to read this book, and as a slowish reader that’s a sign that I very much enjoyed it.
I absolutely loved the parts that were set in Montreal. It was July when I visited, and very hot. The skin soaking jet boat ride that we took on the Lachine Rapids was a welcome reprieve. I wouldn’t want to take one during the freezing cold in which the novel was set. And that’s one of the reasons I liked this book so much – it showed me the city in winter. Towards the end of the book Michaela and Eli are sitting on icy steps in the Place des Arts with chattering teeth and numb toes, genuinely concerned that they may die in the cold. After visiting the contemporary art museum I sat on the same steps with an unfolded map in my hands, wondering where to go next (the cobblestone streets of Old Montreal, via Chinatown). The best books transport you, and Last Night in Montreal certainly did that for me. I’d like to quote one particular sentence, but unfortunately I haven’t been able to find it to copy it word for word. Mandel comments on the gray light that takes hold of the sky during dawn in the northern hemisphere. I’d like to tell her that the southern hemisphere sky takes on a similar hue before the sun comes up, and it’s the most beautiful time of the day.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July
I first read No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July back in 2013, several months before I started writing my own short stories. During this time I had little idea about how they should be structured, and what topics one could choose to write about. I recently re-read No One Belongs Here More Than You to remind myself of the ways July’s work has influenced my own. This book is her first, and was published in 2007, long before her novel The First Bad Man was published in 2015.
No One Belongs Here More Than You consists of 16 short stories which vary dramatically in their lengths. For example, “The Moves” is only 2 pages long while “Something That Needs Nothing” goes on for 30 pages. This accommodates nicely for readers who don’t have much time on their hands but would like to read a story in one sitting, for example early morning commuters or people waiting in lines. July tends to stick to the first person narrative perspective however there are exceptions, for example “This Person”. At the beginning of the story, “This person is getting excited. Somebody somewhere is shaking with excitement because something tremendous is about to happen to this person.” July then has this character question their relationships with those around them and feel the need to redeem themselves, something most if not all of her readers can relate to. The third person perspective of this story works well because it enables the reader to imagine themselves as “this person” because the protagonist doesn’t have a name.
Questioning one’s surroundings is a recurring theme throughout No One Belongs Here More Than You. For example, in “Something That Needs Nothing”, the protagonist and her friend Pip run away to another town. The main character doesn’t tell her parents she’s leaving because she believes “They would never let me go.” She questions their decisions, and this links in nicely with the first sentence of the story which signifies displeasure with her situation. “In an ideal world, we would have been orphans.” July’s characters are blunt and unabashed. In their thoughts and actions they appear removed from reality as we know it, a world where people often hide their real emotions and we are forced to read between the lines to get to the truth. This lends each story in No One Belongs Here More Than You a sense of uniqueness and authenticity. July’s exposition is poetic and abstract, and this refreshes the reader at every turn. For example: “Being alone suddenly felt wild. I locked the door and made a series of involuntary, baroque gestures in the mirror.” The idiosyncrasies of July’s characters create people that feel genuine, convincing the reader that they’re human, just like us.
No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July is an excellent starting point for new writers because it convinces readers that no boundaries exist when it comes to writing fiction. After reading this book, I found myself being less restrictive with my work. I started allowing the more abstract details of my characters and their experiences to remain and shape the narrative, as opposed to attacking them with the backspace key straight away because they felt too unrealistic. July’s experimentation with story length and narrative perspective encourages writers to try new things and not limit themselves. Her prose is easy to read, funny at times and always charming. The title No One Belongs Here More Than You is a kind of answer to the questions her characters, and readers, have about their lives. Even if we don’t always understand the situations we find ourselves in, it’s comforting to think they’re right for us. July’s voice remains consistent throughout, and this extends to The First Bad Man, which is just as real and authentic. Her writing reminds me a little of Hilary Mantel, whose collection of stories The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher is also very poetic and often feels out of this world. No One Belongs Here More Than You is certainly deserving of shelf space among such fine books.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
No One Belongs Here More Than You consists of 16 short stories which vary dramatically in their lengths. For example, “The Moves” is only 2 pages long while “Something That Needs Nothing” goes on for 30 pages. This accommodates nicely for readers who don’t have much time on their hands but would like to read a story in one sitting, for example early morning commuters or people waiting in lines. July tends to stick to the first person narrative perspective however there are exceptions, for example “This Person”. At the beginning of the story, “This person is getting excited. Somebody somewhere is shaking with excitement because something tremendous is about to happen to this person.” July then has this character question their relationships with those around them and feel the need to redeem themselves, something most if not all of her readers can relate to. The third person perspective of this story works well because it enables the reader to imagine themselves as “this person” because the protagonist doesn’t have a name.
Questioning one’s surroundings is a recurring theme throughout No One Belongs Here More Than You. For example, in “Something That Needs Nothing”, the protagonist and her friend Pip run away to another town. The main character doesn’t tell her parents she’s leaving because she believes “They would never let me go.” She questions their decisions, and this links in nicely with the first sentence of the story which signifies displeasure with her situation. “In an ideal world, we would have been orphans.” July’s characters are blunt and unabashed. In their thoughts and actions they appear removed from reality as we know it, a world where people often hide their real emotions and we are forced to read between the lines to get to the truth. This lends each story in No One Belongs Here More Than You a sense of uniqueness and authenticity. July’s exposition is poetic and abstract, and this refreshes the reader at every turn. For example: “Being alone suddenly felt wild. I locked the door and made a series of involuntary, baroque gestures in the mirror.” The idiosyncrasies of July’s characters create people that feel genuine, convincing the reader that they’re human, just like us.
No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July is an excellent starting point for new writers because it convinces readers that no boundaries exist when it comes to writing fiction. After reading this book, I found myself being less restrictive with my work. I started allowing the more abstract details of my characters and their experiences to remain and shape the narrative, as opposed to attacking them with the backspace key straight away because they felt too unrealistic. July’s experimentation with story length and narrative perspective encourages writers to try new things and not limit themselves. Her prose is easy to read, funny at times and always charming. The title No One Belongs Here More Than You is a kind of answer to the questions her characters, and readers, have about their lives. Even if we don’t always understand the situations we find ourselves in, it’s comforting to think they’re right for us. July’s voice remains consistent throughout, and this extends to The First Bad Man, which is just as real and authentic. Her writing reminds me a little of Hilary Mantel, whose collection of stories The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher is also very poetic and often feels out of this world. No One Belongs Here More Than You is certainly deserving of shelf space among such fine books.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs by Linda Olsson
Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs is Linda Olsson’s first novel, and the result of being accepted into a postgraduate novel writing course at the University of Auckland. It was first published in 2005 by Penguin (NZ). The blurb had me hooked with its mention of Veronika, a young writer who arrives in a small, Swedish village “in pursuit of stillness and solitude … to complete a novel.” Needless to say, this appealed to the part of me that struggles to find time to write (and read, too). I walked out of Elizabeth’s Secondhand Bookstore with a novel under my arm and little idea of how much I would actually end up enjoying it.
The beginning of the book has us driving up a snow-covered hill on a wintery night, winding our way along plowed and unsealed roads to arrive at Veronika’s house on the outskirts of town. As she unpacks her car in a tunnel of light provided by the headlights, we become increasingly aware of a neighboring house “looming in the darkness.” In the second chapter, we’re introduced to Astrid, an elderly woman with papery skin who belongs to this house and stood in front of her kitchen window watching Veronika as she unpacked. When the young writer falls ill, Astrid grows worried because of a lack of movement about the house and the old woman trudges through the snow, lets herself in and silently prepares a breakfast of pancakes and tea, all while Veronika is still upstairs. When she comes downstairs, a relatively silent conversation follows spoken by the hissing of a fry pan and Veronika’s grateful chews. Just before she leaves, Astrid advises Veronika to open her bedroom window and give her a shout if she needs anything, departing with the words: “I will look out for you.” These are the first of many spoken between the pair, and as the weather warms up the two women bond over waffles and jam, walks by the river and the exchange of memories that reveal a great deal about their pasts. We learn about Astrid’s family and the ways each member has individually affected her, as well as Veronika’s romances and her time in London and New Zealand.
Olsson regularly swaps between writing in first and third person, but she keeps the style consistent throughout the entire chapter. She uses the former when Veronika or Astrid are divulging a particular part of their soul to the other, most often over dinner or coffee, and the latter when the two are interacting, for example as they collect strawberries or mushrooms from the forest. It’s worth noting that the chapters aren’t particularly long, nor do they have to be. Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs is another book that can teach writers a valuable lesson about chapter structure (see my review of A Fortunate Age by Joanna Rakoff). Olsson’s prose is comparable to Nicole Krauss, another writer (my very favourite) who has a habit of writing about loneliness and memory. This alone should tell you she’s a magnificent writer well worth checking out. I love the part in Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs where Astrid discusses the “light shifting” and instinctively knowing when something’s about to change. I’ve had a few moments in my life where I’ve felt like this, but Olsson is the first to put such an experience in words that speak to me directly. You readers out there will know how amazing it feels to have a connection with an author that doesn’t need to be validated by presence or conversation. I experienced this time and time again in Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs, making it one of my favorites.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
The beginning of the book has us driving up a snow-covered hill on a wintery night, winding our way along plowed and unsealed roads to arrive at Veronika’s house on the outskirts of town. As she unpacks her car in a tunnel of light provided by the headlights, we become increasingly aware of a neighboring house “looming in the darkness.” In the second chapter, we’re introduced to Astrid, an elderly woman with papery skin who belongs to this house and stood in front of her kitchen window watching Veronika as she unpacked. When the young writer falls ill, Astrid grows worried because of a lack of movement about the house and the old woman trudges through the snow, lets herself in and silently prepares a breakfast of pancakes and tea, all while Veronika is still upstairs. When she comes downstairs, a relatively silent conversation follows spoken by the hissing of a fry pan and Veronika’s grateful chews. Just before she leaves, Astrid advises Veronika to open her bedroom window and give her a shout if she needs anything, departing with the words: “I will look out for you.” These are the first of many spoken between the pair, and as the weather warms up the two women bond over waffles and jam, walks by the river and the exchange of memories that reveal a great deal about their pasts. We learn about Astrid’s family and the ways each member has individually affected her, as well as Veronika’s romances and her time in London and New Zealand.
Olsson regularly swaps between writing in first and third person, but she keeps the style consistent throughout the entire chapter. She uses the former when Veronika or Astrid are divulging a particular part of their soul to the other, most often over dinner or coffee, and the latter when the two are interacting, for example as they collect strawberries or mushrooms from the forest. It’s worth noting that the chapters aren’t particularly long, nor do they have to be. Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs is another book that can teach writers a valuable lesson about chapter structure (see my review of A Fortunate Age by Joanna Rakoff). Olsson’s prose is comparable to Nicole Krauss, another writer (my very favourite) who has a habit of writing about loneliness and memory. This alone should tell you she’s a magnificent writer well worth checking out. I love the part in Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs where Astrid discusses the “light shifting” and instinctively knowing when something’s about to change. I’ve had a few moments in my life where I’ve felt like this, but Olsson is the first to put such an experience in words that speak to me directly. You readers out there will know how amazing it feels to have a connection with an author that doesn’t need to be validated by presence or conversation. I experienced this time and time again in Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs, making it one of my favorites.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley was first published in 1818, generations before I would finally read the 3rd edition in 2015.
The first part describes Frankenstein's childhood as happy and carefree, particularly after his parents adopted an orphan, Elizabeth, who becomes known as his cousin. We learn about his enthusiasm for chemistry and science, albeit theories his professors have long denounced as outdated. During his experiments he creates a monster who, unkown to Frankenstein, travels to his hometown and murders his younger brother. Once he DOES find out, he travels home where their family friend, Justine, has been wrongly accused of William's murder. She receives the death penalty, plunging Frankenstein into a deep depression.
In part two, much to his dismay, he is reunited with the monster who tells the story of how he escaped to the countryside after he was created and for months secretly observed a cottage whose occupants consisted of a young man and woman and their blind elderly father. Once the monster summoned up the courage to introduce himself, they rejected him and he declared revenge on the human race. He then seeks a deal with Frankenstein - if his master will create a female equivalent who will love him despite his ghastly features and appreciate him for the kind creature he considers himself to be, the monster will seek exile with his partner far away from any humans and pledge not to hurt them.
Fearing the safety of his fellow human beings should such a woman pose a serious threat, he denies the monster his request in the third part of the book, and as a result, the monster kills Frankenstein's fiance, an event followed by the death of his father from emotional trauma. Distraught, Frankenstein seeks revenge and chases the monster to the Arctic where he is picked up by an expedition before passing away in their boat. It should be mentioned that Frankenstein's tale is told in the form of a letter written by an explorer who is worried he himself may not survive the journey home, so he retells the story to his sister.
Mary Shelley writes in a lyrical manner while maintaining the pace of the story at a speed that keeps the reader intrigued. There are parts of the novel which depict the monster as having human feelings; for example this excerpt from page 106: "Sometimes I tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds, but was unable. Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into silence again." This passage moved me more than any other part of the book. Unfortunately, there weren't many more that did, making Frankenstein a pleasure to read, but not one of my favourites.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
The first part describes Frankenstein's childhood as happy and carefree, particularly after his parents adopted an orphan, Elizabeth, who becomes known as his cousin. We learn about his enthusiasm for chemistry and science, albeit theories his professors have long denounced as outdated. During his experiments he creates a monster who, unkown to Frankenstein, travels to his hometown and murders his younger brother. Once he DOES find out, he travels home where their family friend, Justine, has been wrongly accused of William's murder. She receives the death penalty, plunging Frankenstein into a deep depression.
In part two, much to his dismay, he is reunited with the monster who tells the story of how he escaped to the countryside after he was created and for months secretly observed a cottage whose occupants consisted of a young man and woman and their blind elderly father. Once the monster summoned up the courage to introduce himself, they rejected him and he declared revenge on the human race. He then seeks a deal with Frankenstein - if his master will create a female equivalent who will love him despite his ghastly features and appreciate him for the kind creature he considers himself to be, the monster will seek exile with his partner far away from any humans and pledge not to hurt them.
Fearing the safety of his fellow human beings should such a woman pose a serious threat, he denies the monster his request in the third part of the book, and as a result, the monster kills Frankenstein's fiance, an event followed by the death of his father from emotional trauma. Distraught, Frankenstein seeks revenge and chases the monster to the Arctic where he is picked up by an expedition before passing away in their boat. It should be mentioned that Frankenstein's tale is told in the form of a letter written by an explorer who is worried he himself may not survive the journey home, so he retells the story to his sister.
Mary Shelley writes in a lyrical manner while maintaining the pace of the story at a speed that keeps the reader intrigued. There are parts of the novel which depict the monster as having human feelings; for example this excerpt from page 106: "Sometimes I tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds, but was unable. Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into silence again." This passage moved me more than any other part of the book. Unfortunately, there weren't many more that did, making Frankenstein a pleasure to read, but not one of my favourites.
I write book reviews when I manage to find the time, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
A Fortunate Age by Joanna Rakoff
A Fortunate Age was first published in 2010, and is Joanna Rakoff's debut novel. Prior to reading AFA, I devoured her memoir, My Salinger Year. It was my lunchtime companion and nightly escape, allowing me passage to New York each time I opened the cover. As I read about Jo's relationship with writing and her general fumbling through the world, I identified with her time and time again. When I decided to read AFA ,I couldn't help but wonder if I would find myself in this book as much as I did in MSY.
A Fortunate Age is about a group of 20 something year old Oberlin graduates struggling, dreaming and working in New York City. We're first introduced to Lil, who works for a poetry organisation and, much to the surprise of her friends, ceases thinking of marriage as "an outmoded institution" and announces her engagement to Tuck, a writer with a new job at a magazine dedicated to technology. Her friend Beth accepts a teaching position in NYC only to find out she doesn't have enough credits from her Masters degree to graduate. She falls in love with Will Chase, a reporter for the Wall Street Journal, and discovers he has a five year old son. This leads her to question the future of her relationship with Will. We learn about Dave the pianist, a musician writing his own songs in secret and away from the band he primarily works for. Then there's Emily, a young actress who spends over a year performing in a play destined for Broadway, only to discover that when it finally moves, the original cast won't be retained. During this time, she lives in a derelict apartment in Queens, all while watching her friend Tal become more and more successful in the film industry. Last but certainly not least, there's Sadie Peregrine, a classy young editor faced with an unexpected pregnancy, and later on, the disparities between herself and the other members of the "mommys group" in her building.
Rakoff introduces her characters to us almost one by one, dedicating an entire chapter to the dame or damsel and their various distresses and resolutions. In other chapters, the story-lines are interwoven, bending and winding together, convincing us that one would be incomplete without the other. The lives of these individual characters predominantly have happy endings, at least as far as the book is concerned. However. There is a death towards the end of AFA. Lil. I'm not going to go into the details of why, or how, only to say that I cried 3 times and I rarely cry over novels. This book is one of the exceptions.
I found myself in A Fortunate Age, just as I did in MSY, but this time, I had more characters to relate to. I identified with Beth, Sadie, Dave, Tal, Lil, and Emily, each member of the group around which AFA revolves. Rakoff writes in detail, and exceptionally so. Although the story relies more on the writing than the plot, this doesn't detract from the enjoyment of reading it. However, I must turn your attention to a statement that utterly confused me. "He would become Tuck again, the man who could spend hours talking about the prosody of Gerard Manley Hopkins and why Charles Simic was a fraud." Charles Simic is my favourite poet, who in my opinion doesn't contain a fraudulent ounce in his body, nor do I understand why someone else would think he does. My least favourite passage aside, let me share with you my favourite one. "Suddenly, she was tired, exhausted, but she would not go to bed, not without doing something, something to show she was not defeated, so she watered her plants" (Page 267). I love Emily's stoicism to prove that no, the world hasn't reduced her to her lowest possible form of existence despite the mess she went through with Curtis (I'll let you read about him yourself). Overall, A Fortunate Age is a fantastic read, and I feel that 20 something year olds in particular would particularly enjoy it. I know I love learning about other people also stumbling around, weighing up reality against previous expectations they had of themselves as adults.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
A Fortunate Age is about a group of 20 something year old Oberlin graduates struggling, dreaming and working in New York City. We're first introduced to Lil, who works for a poetry organisation and, much to the surprise of her friends, ceases thinking of marriage as "an outmoded institution" and announces her engagement to Tuck, a writer with a new job at a magazine dedicated to technology. Her friend Beth accepts a teaching position in NYC only to find out she doesn't have enough credits from her Masters degree to graduate. She falls in love with Will Chase, a reporter for the Wall Street Journal, and discovers he has a five year old son. This leads her to question the future of her relationship with Will. We learn about Dave the pianist, a musician writing his own songs in secret and away from the band he primarily works for. Then there's Emily, a young actress who spends over a year performing in a play destined for Broadway, only to discover that when it finally moves, the original cast won't be retained. During this time, she lives in a derelict apartment in Queens, all while watching her friend Tal become more and more successful in the film industry. Last but certainly not least, there's Sadie Peregrine, a classy young editor faced with an unexpected pregnancy, and later on, the disparities between herself and the other members of the "mommys group" in her building.
Rakoff introduces her characters to us almost one by one, dedicating an entire chapter to the dame or damsel and their various distresses and resolutions. In other chapters, the story-lines are interwoven, bending and winding together, convincing us that one would be incomplete without the other. The lives of these individual characters predominantly have happy endings, at least as far as the book is concerned. However. There is a death towards the end of AFA. Lil. I'm not going to go into the details of why, or how, only to say that I cried 3 times and I rarely cry over novels. This book is one of the exceptions.
I found myself in A Fortunate Age, just as I did in MSY, but this time, I had more characters to relate to. I identified with Beth, Sadie, Dave, Tal, Lil, and Emily, each member of the group around which AFA revolves. Rakoff writes in detail, and exceptionally so. Although the story relies more on the writing than the plot, this doesn't detract from the enjoyment of reading it. However, I must turn your attention to a statement that utterly confused me. "He would become Tuck again, the man who could spend hours talking about the prosody of Gerard Manley Hopkins and why Charles Simic was a fraud." Charles Simic is my favourite poet, who in my opinion doesn't contain a fraudulent ounce in his body, nor do I understand why someone else would think he does. My least favourite passage aside, let me share with you my favourite one. "Suddenly, she was tired, exhausted, but she would not go to bed, not without doing something, something to show she was not defeated, so she watered her plants" (Page 267). I love Emily's stoicism to prove that no, the world hasn't reduced her to her lowest possible form of existence despite the mess she went through with Curtis (I'll let you read about him yourself). Overall, A Fortunate Age is a fantastic read, and I feel that 20 something year olds in particular would particularly enjoy it. I know I love learning about other people also stumbling around, weighing up reality against previous expectations they had of themselves as adults.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson
The Argonauts is one of many non fiction books written by Maggie Nelson, a poet and teacher among an impressive number of creative occupations. It was first published in the USA in 2015, and even more recently, picked up by me in the San Fransisco district of Haight Ashbury, a reader new to her work.
The Argonauts is written as a series of essays. It gives us insight into Nelsons relationship with Harry Dodge and his son, her sexuality, life as a writer and her pregnancy with Iggy. You may or may not know that Harry is a transgender person who was born as a female but chose to make the switch sometime after becoming involved with Nelson. The book delves into their inner thoughts about the transition, including whether or not he should begin therapy on T. During this time of their lives, Nelson falls pregnant, and she sheds light on the challenges of artificial insemination and the subsequent joy of being a mother. She discusses the stalker she once who had was obsessed with her Aunt's murder, a topic Nelson has written a book on. Undeniably one of my favourite sentences from The Argonauts is: "Most writers I know nurse persistent fantasies about the horrible things - or the horrible thing - that will happen to them if and when they express themselves as they desire." (Page 114)
I must admit that I struggled to understand a significant portion of this book. However, the inadequacy falls on me, and I see it as room for growth where perhaps others who have read the book are not lacking. The parts of it that I did understand taught me in the most unabashed way, with humility and openness that you can't help but admire Nelson for. There was one thing that frustrated me, though. She uses the word "And" to begin many of her sentences, and it works absolutely perfectly. I've been told on multiple occasions not to begin sentences with "And", most recently from an editor, and more distantly from my year 1 teacher in 1998. She told me that it could be used in very rare instances, but I guess I'm just not there yet.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
The Argonauts is written as a series of essays. It gives us insight into Nelsons relationship with Harry Dodge and his son, her sexuality, life as a writer and her pregnancy with Iggy. You may or may not know that Harry is a transgender person who was born as a female but chose to make the switch sometime after becoming involved with Nelson. The book delves into their inner thoughts about the transition, including whether or not he should begin therapy on T. During this time of their lives, Nelson falls pregnant, and she sheds light on the challenges of artificial insemination and the subsequent joy of being a mother. She discusses the stalker she once who had was obsessed with her Aunt's murder, a topic Nelson has written a book on. Undeniably one of my favourite sentences from The Argonauts is: "Most writers I know nurse persistent fantasies about the horrible things - or the horrible thing - that will happen to them if and when they express themselves as they desire." (Page 114)
I must admit that I struggled to understand a significant portion of this book. However, the inadequacy falls on me, and I see it as room for growth where perhaps others who have read the book are not lacking. The parts of it that I did understand taught me in the most unabashed way, with humility and openness that you can't help but admire Nelson for. There was one thing that frustrated me, though. She uses the word "And" to begin many of her sentences, and it works absolutely perfectly. I've been told on multiple occasions not to begin sentences with "And", most recently from an editor, and more distantly from my year 1 teacher in 1998. She told me that it could be used in very rare instances, but I guess I'm just not there yet.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
Gonna take you for a ride on a big jet plane
Hello there! I'm currently about two thirds of the way through A Fortunate Age by Joanna Rakoff. I'll restrain myself from commenting on it at this time, because on Friday I'm going on holiday for a month! I plan to finish the book when I return. But, expectedly, that means there will be no book reviews until at least August. So until then, happy reading!
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
Heart of Darkness was first published in 1899, inspired by Joseph Conrad's time as the captain of a steamer travelling the River Congo. As far as I know, it’s the only novella out there written almost exclusively in dialogue.
The story is told in three parts, beginning with the anchoring of the Nellie on the Thames. We find ourselves among the crew, waiting for the end of a flood that will allow them to continue on their way. The narrator introduces us to Marlow, the captain of the ship. With plenty of time to kill, he takes “the pose of a Buddha preaching in European clothes” to tell us his tale. In parts one and two, he takes us through his journey to the River Congo in search of Kurtz, a powerful figure in the ivory trade. In part three, the pair finally meet and Marlow discovers an ill, questionable man very different to the one he imagined. Conrad’s dialogue closely resembles the way people speak in real life, where hesitancy, abruptness and introspection are all so frequent. His style is lyrical and vivid, adding a certain richness to the story that reminds me most of The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. The ending is like a slap in the face, a powerful one that wakes you up to the most beautifully written part of the book.
When I say it wakes you up, I must admit I mean that literally. Despite the quality of Conrad’s writing, the topic itself bored me immensely. I’m simply not interested in the ivory trade or seafaring in the late 1800s. I believe that someone who was fascinated by these topics would take great pleasure in reading Heart of Darkness. However, there were a few passages I thoroughly enjoyed reading, for example: “… No, it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence – that which makes its truth, its meaning – its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream – alone. …” This one, like many others in Conrad’s book, speaks for itself.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
The story is told in three parts, beginning with the anchoring of the Nellie on the Thames. We find ourselves among the crew, waiting for the end of a flood that will allow them to continue on their way. The narrator introduces us to Marlow, the captain of the ship. With plenty of time to kill, he takes “the pose of a Buddha preaching in European clothes” to tell us his tale. In parts one and two, he takes us through his journey to the River Congo in search of Kurtz, a powerful figure in the ivory trade. In part three, the pair finally meet and Marlow discovers an ill, questionable man very different to the one he imagined. Conrad’s dialogue closely resembles the way people speak in real life, where hesitancy, abruptness and introspection are all so frequent. His style is lyrical and vivid, adding a certain richness to the story that reminds me most of The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. The ending is like a slap in the face, a powerful one that wakes you up to the most beautifully written part of the book.
When I say it wakes you up, I must admit I mean that literally. Despite the quality of Conrad’s writing, the topic itself bored me immensely. I’m simply not interested in the ivory trade or seafaring in the late 1800s. I believe that someone who was fascinated by these topics would take great pleasure in reading Heart of Darkness. However, there were a few passages I thoroughly enjoyed reading, for example: “… No, it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence – that which makes its truth, its meaning – its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream – alone. …” This one, like many others in Conrad’s book, speaks for itself.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
The Bicycle Teacher by Campbell Jefferys
Campbell Jefferys grew up in the hills of Perth, Australia, and wrote The Bicycle Teacher after moving to Berlin. During his travels through North America and Europe, he worked as a journalist and experimented with novel writing until he reached the German city where it all came together. The Bicycle Teacher was published in 2005, after being picked up by Janus Publishing Company in Great Britain. It sparked my curiosity with its quirky title, and when its blurb unearthed memories of my favourite love story (The Student Conductor by Robert Ford) I had no choice but to borrow it from the library.
At the beginning of the book, Jefferys draws parallels between Perth and Berlin. Through the eyes of 19 year old Michael we learn that in the 60s and early 70s, the city of Perth was very much divided. Those who lived in the eastern suburbs were unable to go to university, stuck in an endless cycle where they follow in the footsteps of uneducated parents who have no choice but to work in low paying jobs. As a result, they were malnourished, unable to travel, and received scrutiny from those living in the affluent west. I found this really fascinating because Michael’s Perth is so unlike my own. As someone who grew up in the eastern suburbs, I went to university, travelled, and was never ostracized or labeled as “different”. But I grew up in the 90’s and noughties, and my childhood was a world away from Michael’s.
When Michael travels to Berlin for the first time, he discovers how the communist East provides opportunities for all its members, while the West is as discriminating as the society he left behind. This is a really powerful tool that Jefferys uses to highlight how Berlin’s east is different to Perth’s. When he falls in love with Kathrin, the decision to move there permanently is an easy one. He attends a teaching course at college, and trades his overalls as a mechanic for the books he uses as an English teacher. “Communism gave me hope, that people could work together for a common goal, help each other and be kind. The system was fair. Women were equal, everyone had a job and an apartment, and food was cheap. Everything was within my reach. There were no barriers to restrict my life here. I had the chance to be so much more. And I would do it with this beautiful girl who had opened my eyes to all of it.” This is my favourite thing about The Bicycle Teacher. It shows the good side of communism. Michael rightfully observes that: “I grew up being told that the Russians, and all communists, were the most ruthless, heartless, evil people in the world, and that the Americans were the good guys fighting for freedom, truth and justice.” And this is true for students not just in Australia, but all over the globe. Don’t assume the book is one sided though, there’s a bad side to communism too, and Jefferys explains this well. He highlights the travel restrictions, lack of free speech, and rigged elections that everyone in East Berlin has to live with. These things make life difficult, and The Bicycle Teacher unleashes their full force.
The Bicycle Teacher (TBT) is divided into chapters based on where the story occurs. It starts in Perth, travels to London, Hamburg and various parts of Berlin before ending in Perth when Michael moves back with his family following the fall of the Berlin wall. Living here after reading TBT is like floating through a dream where the reader lives in the same city as their favourite characters. It’s bizarre, because I know exactly what Michael means when he talks about factories on his way home from the airport, bushfires that disappear almost as quickly as they appear and the university his daughter Jennifer will attend. Except, this dream is real. If only Campbell Jefferys characters were.
Throughout the book, I was gripped by intrigue on multiple occasions, for example when Michael returns to East Berlin after choosing to move there permanently. He’s faced with the challenge of settling in a foreign city, and learning to living in a shoebox. The plot in TBT moves quickly enough that it leaves you guessing what will happen next, but not wanting to turn the page too quickly. I loved how grey East Berlin was. I haven’t been there, yet, but Jefferys descriptions remind me of Belgrade on a dreary day. My Great-Aunt lives in a building similar to those in The Bicycle Teacher. The concrete is cracked, paint is peeling, however the people look after their apartments despite outward appearances they can do nothing about. But do you know what lies on the other side of that shaky elevator? A hug the size of the universe and a meal that only love can make.
I wish I could only talk about The Bicycle Teachers strengths. But I can’t, because it’s my job as a reviewer to paint a complete picture for the reader. In some parts of the book, the story is told rather than shown, where the opposite would have been more effective. The number of typos made me want to pick up a pen and correct them myself, or at least email the publisher. But I didn’t. Why? Because none of that stuff really mattered. The story was captivating, beautiful and powerful despite my internal editor. It even made The Student Conductor a little jealous.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
** If you haven't yet, check out the new "Story Reviews" page up the top. It's a place for stories without a book to call their own.
At the beginning of the book, Jefferys draws parallels between Perth and Berlin. Through the eyes of 19 year old Michael we learn that in the 60s and early 70s, the city of Perth was very much divided. Those who lived in the eastern suburbs were unable to go to university, stuck in an endless cycle where they follow in the footsteps of uneducated parents who have no choice but to work in low paying jobs. As a result, they were malnourished, unable to travel, and received scrutiny from those living in the affluent west. I found this really fascinating because Michael’s Perth is so unlike my own. As someone who grew up in the eastern suburbs, I went to university, travelled, and was never ostracized or labeled as “different”. But I grew up in the 90’s and noughties, and my childhood was a world away from Michael’s.
When Michael travels to Berlin for the first time, he discovers how the communist East provides opportunities for all its members, while the West is as discriminating as the society he left behind. This is a really powerful tool that Jefferys uses to highlight how Berlin’s east is different to Perth’s. When he falls in love with Kathrin, the decision to move there permanently is an easy one. He attends a teaching course at college, and trades his overalls as a mechanic for the books he uses as an English teacher. “Communism gave me hope, that people could work together for a common goal, help each other and be kind. The system was fair. Women were equal, everyone had a job and an apartment, and food was cheap. Everything was within my reach. There were no barriers to restrict my life here. I had the chance to be so much more. And I would do it with this beautiful girl who had opened my eyes to all of it.” This is my favourite thing about The Bicycle Teacher. It shows the good side of communism. Michael rightfully observes that: “I grew up being told that the Russians, and all communists, were the most ruthless, heartless, evil people in the world, and that the Americans were the good guys fighting for freedom, truth and justice.” And this is true for students not just in Australia, but all over the globe. Don’t assume the book is one sided though, there’s a bad side to communism too, and Jefferys explains this well. He highlights the travel restrictions, lack of free speech, and rigged elections that everyone in East Berlin has to live with. These things make life difficult, and The Bicycle Teacher unleashes their full force.
The Bicycle Teacher (TBT) is divided into chapters based on where the story occurs. It starts in Perth, travels to London, Hamburg and various parts of Berlin before ending in Perth when Michael moves back with his family following the fall of the Berlin wall. Living here after reading TBT is like floating through a dream where the reader lives in the same city as their favourite characters. It’s bizarre, because I know exactly what Michael means when he talks about factories on his way home from the airport, bushfires that disappear almost as quickly as they appear and the university his daughter Jennifer will attend. Except, this dream is real. If only Campbell Jefferys characters were.
Throughout the book, I was gripped by intrigue on multiple occasions, for example when Michael returns to East Berlin after choosing to move there permanently. He’s faced with the challenge of settling in a foreign city, and learning to living in a shoebox. The plot in TBT moves quickly enough that it leaves you guessing what will happen next, but not wanting to turn the page too quickly. I loved how grey East Berlin was. I haven’t been there, yet, but Jefferys descriptions remind me of Belgrade on a dreary day. My Great-Aunt lives in a building similar to those in The Bicycle Teacher. The concrete is cracked, paint is peeling, however the people look after their apartments despite outward appearances they can do nothing about. But do you know what lies on the other side of that shaky elevator? A hug the size of the universe and a meal that only love can make.
I wish I could only talk about The Bicycle Teachers strengths. But I can’t, because it’s my job as a reviewer to paint a complete picture for the reader. In some parts of the book, the story is told rather than shown, where the opposite would have been more effective. The number of typos made me want to pick up a pen and correct them myself, or at least email the publisher. But I didn’t. Why? Because none of that stuff really mattered. The story was captivating, beautiful and powerful despite my internal editor. It even made The Student Conductor a little jealous.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
** If you haven't yet, check out the new "Story Reviews" page up the top. It's a place for stories without a book to call their own.
Kiss and Tell by Alain de Botton
Kiss and Tell is Alain de Botton’s third novel, and was first published in 1995 in The United States. It is the second de Botton book I’ve read, after stumbling upon Essays In Love in Elizabeth’s Secondhand bookshop. I hadn’t heard of him before, but decided to buy a copy after scanning the blurb. I thoroughly enjoyed EIL, and couldn’t resist pulling Kiss and Tell from the shelf when I spotted it in Crow Books over a year later.
Typically, biographies are written about dead people, by authors who had no affiliation with their subject. Kiss and Tell is based on the idea that if you have a relationship with this person, you learn so much more about them, and can therefore produce a much more accurate biography. In the preface, we’re introduced to the narrator (whose name we never learn) and his first meeting with Isabel. From here the novel takes the form of a biography, with each chapter shedding light on a different aspect of Isabel’s personality and life. Mr Narrator presents ideas and theories by a number of philosophers and psychologists, and applies these to his relationship to teach us more about Isabel (and, indirectly, himself). These topics range from memory to family trees to the differences between men and women. The story is told mostly through description and dialogue is used sparingly, but de Botton strikes such a fine balance between the two that this works in the novels favour.
It took me longer to read Kiss and Tell than Essays in Love, because it’s a heavier, more mentally stimulating book. I frequently found myself re-reading sentences just to understand the philosophical concept being discussed. But the fact that I wanted to re-read them should show you how much I enjoyed the book. There are several gems in the story that can’t go by unmentioned, ideas that made me think twice. For example, Mr Narrator forms an entire “psychological portrait” on Isabel before they even have a conversation. He then learns he’s completely wrong, and concludes “Without knowing others properly, we shamelessly generate thoughts of who they are”. He talks about family trees structured not on facts, but emotional dispositions. Musical records remembered less for their lyrics and more for their presence in Isabel’s car stereo during a particular time of her life. Mr Narrator confesses to making the mistake of assuming “that to understand a book would mean in some way understanding its other readers.” That last thought is my favourite, because I can relate to it far more than I should. De Botton blends philosophy with his characters in Kiss and Tell to produce a story that both enlightens and pleases his reader. It really is a joy to read and I highly recommend it.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
***On a side note, I recently watched an interview where Alain De Botton says “My goal in raising my children is that they will not be that dramatically inclined towards writing and reading [because] reading and writing is a response to anxiety.” I found this really fascinating and I’ll put it up on the blog page.
Typically, biographies are written about dead people, by authors who had no affiliation with their subject. Kiss and Tell is based on the idea that if you have a relationship with this person, you learn so much more about them, and can therefore produce a much more accurate biography. In the preface, we’re introduced to the narrator (whose name we never learn) and his first meeting with Isabel. From here the novel takes the form of a biography, with each chapter shedding light on a different aspect of Isabel’s personality and life. Mr Narrator presents ideas and theories by a number of philosophers and psychologists, and applies these to his relationship to teach us more about Isabel (and, indirectly, himself). These topics range from memory to family trees to the differences between men and women. The story is told mostly through description and dialogue is used sparingly, but de Botton strikes such a fine balance between the two that this works in the novels favour.
It took me longer to read Kiss and Tell than Essays in Love, because it’s a heavier, more mentally stimulating book. I frequently found myself re-reading sentences just to understand the philosophical concept being discussed. But the fact that I wanted to re-read them should show you how much I enjoyed the book. There are several gems in the story that can’t go by unmentioned, ideas that made me think twice. For example, Mr Narrator forms an entire “psychological portrait” on Isabel before they even have a conversation. He then learns he’s completely wrong, and concludes “Without knowing others properly, we shamelessly generate thoughts of who they are”. He talks about family trees structured not on facts, but emotional dispositions. Musical records remembered less for their lyrics and more for their presence in Isabel’s car stereo during a particular time of her life. Mr Narrator confesses to making the mistake of assuming “that to understand a book would mean in some way understanding its other readers.” That last thought is my favourite, because I can relate to it far more than I should. De Botton blends philosophy with his characters in Kiss and Tell to produce a story that both enlightens and pleases his reader. It really is a joy to read and I highly recommend it.
I write book reviews approximately every 2 weeks, and in my spare time write poetry and stories.
***On a side note, I recently watched an interview where Alain De Botton says “My goal in raising my children is that they will not be that dramatically inclined towards writing and reading [because] reading and writing is a response to anxiety.” I found this really fascinating and I’ll put it up on the blog page.
Unending Blues by Charles Simic
Unending Blues is Charles Simic’s 11th book of poetry, for which he received his 2nd Pulitzer prize nomination. It was published in 1987 in The United States, the same location as his previous books. I first stumbled upon Simic’s poetry after his poem The Dictionary was published in The New Yorker in 2013. Intrigued and eager to read more, I ordered a copy of Unending Blues and consumed it over a period of two nights.
The collection is an example of how free verse can produce eloquent poetry despite straying from traditional rhyming structures. Many poems are written in an ABAB pattern, or an ABCB sequence, with their verses four lines long and the same length as many of Simic’s. But despite not having the same rhythm as William Blake or Robert Frost, his poetry isn’t any less infused with meaning. Simic uses personification as a way of giving personality to nature. He hints at the relationships between his characters, however his poems are often too short to provide the full story and the reader is left sifting through the dark to uncover the rest themselves. The settings of his poems vary from his characters homes to the streets they walk and occasionally their own minds. His style is simplistic and ironic as he switches between morbid and hopeful situations. For example, he can describe self-crucifixion, but is also capable of showing a cat and a mouse lapping peacefully at the same milk bowl. Unending Blues is divided into three parts, however there does not appear to be any particular reasons why, neither in content nor structure. This leads us to consider if his poems were written during particular times of his life, and divided chronologically.
Unending Blues is a heart-warming read. Simic’s poems maintain a lyrical quality despite their use of free verse and lack of rhyming patterns. He succeeds at convincing us that every creature has a story, be it an animal, human or city. In real life, these stories are often incomplete once they’ve been told, just like with his poems. But don’t be surprised if they fill you with a melancholy you’re not troubled to feel. They’re simply a way of reminding you how much sadness there is in the world, and accepting it as an integral part of life. It is this acceptance that is Unending Blues’ biggest success, and perhaps the idea behind the choice of title. It is possible to be happy in the presence of sadness, if it is appreciated. Charles Simic’s ability to convey this to his reader is what makes him such a fine, articulate poet. It is his love for the quiet moments in life that allows him to write such beautiful poetry. He reminds us how incredible it is to be alive, and surely there is no bigger wish in the writer’s heart.
This is the first critical review I’ve written, after years of solely writing short stories, poetry and essays.
The collection is an example of how free verse can produce eloquent poetry despite straying from traditional rhyming structures. Many poems are written in an ABAB pattern, or an ABCB sequence, with their verses four lines long and the same length as many of Simic’s. But despite not having the same rhythm as William Blake or Robert Frost, his poetry isn’t any less infused with meaning. Simic uses personification as a way of giving personality to nature. He hints at the relationships between his characters, however his poems are often too short to provide the full story and the reader is left sifting through the dark to uncover the rest themselves. The settings of his poems vary from his characters homes to the streets they walk and occasionally their own minds. His style is simplistic and ironic as he switches between morbid and hopeful situations. For example, he can describe self-crucifixion, but is also capable of showing a cat and a mouse lapping peacefully at the same milk bowl. Unending Blues is divided into three parts, however there does not appear to be any particular reasons why, neither in content nor structure. This leads us to consider if his poems were written during particular times of his life, and divided chronologically.
Unending Blues is a heart-warming read. Simic’s poems maintain a lyrical quality despite their use of free verse and lack of rhyming patterns. He succeeds at convincing us that every creature has a story, be it an animal, human or city. In real life, these stories are often incomplete once they’ve been told, just like with his poems. But don’t be surprised if they fill you with a melancholy you’re not troubled to feel. They’re simply a way of reminding you how much sadness there is in the world, and accepting it as an integral part of life. It is this acceptance that is Unending Blues’ biggest success, and perhaps the idea behind the choice of title. It is possible to be happy in the presence of sadness, if it is appreciated. Charles Simic’s ability to convey this to his reader is what makes him such a fine, articulate poet. It is his love for the quiet moments in life that allows him to write such beautiful poetry. He reminds us how incredible it is to be alive, and surely there is no bigger wish in the writer’s heart.
This is the first critical review I’ve written, after years of solely writing short stories, poetry and essays.