I'm really sorry, Rebecca, for what this may do to your universe but I just. Can't. Finish. This. Book.
It's short enough that I should be able to do iI'm really sorry, Rebecca, for what this may do to your universe but I just. Can't. Finish. This. Book.
It's short enough that I should be able to do it, and maybe if I didn't have a stack of more tempting books waiting I would exercise more self-discipline. Fortunately or unfortunately, though, that's not the case.
Under the circumstances I can't give an in-depth review, but I can list some things I didn't like and hope this is helpful:
1. Long descriptions of logging and farming, especially when they comprise a high proportion of the book itself.
2. Red herrings, i.e., anecdotes or characters that seem like they'll develop into something meaningful but end up being peripheral.
3. Heavily foreshadowed illicit romance.
4. A boring story (or more accurately, non-story) taking place in the present which is merely an obvious excuse to tell the story in the past. If the past story is what it's all about, why not just tell that story? Why distract me with present-day events if they're not remotely interesting?
As another reviewer said, this book seems to have won lots of critical acclaim so I guess I'm in the minority. But don't say I didn't warn you....more
It's telling when most of the popular goodreads reviews of this book, positive as well as negative, contain some sort of disclaimer about needing to cIt's telling when most of the popular goodreads reviews of this book, positive as well as negative, contain some sort of disclaimer about needing to cut this book slack because it's a YA book. But is a juvenile audience a legitimate excuse for juvenile writing?
The story is this: It's 1895, and 16-year-old Gemma Doyle's mother has just died a tragic and mysterious death in India. Gemma, as a result, is shipped off to an England boarding school where rich young ladies (and one scholarship student) learn the important skills of painting, waltzing, and French. Gemma's roommate, Ann, is the one scholarship student -- orphaned, plain-looking, lonely, deliberately cutting her skin as a means of relief. Gemma also meets a clique straight out of the movie "Mean Girls" -- Felicity (the dominant leader), Pippa (the beautiful and dumb sidekick), and a few other forgettable hangers-on. It's fierce enmity at first sight, with a variety of nasty pranks exchanged until Gemma discovers an incriminating secret about Felicity. Whereupon Gemma and Felicity immediately become the best of friends (nothing like blackmail to forge a deep friendship), forming a new foursome comprised of Felicity and Pippa, and Gemma and Ann. Gemma gradually discovers that she has magic powers which can take her to supernatural realms, and that she can even bring her new bosom buddies with her. But -- surprise, surprise -- there's a dark side to all this power, and it proves dangerous.
Where to begin? Well, first of all, the story is rather anachronistic or just plain artificial in a lot of ways. I guess I'm kind of a purist, but I can't help feeling that if you want to write about this era, do it right. When I read Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, I actually felt like I was reading a Victorian novel even though it was written only a few years ago. Here, I alternated between feeling like Libba was superimposing modern-day sensibilities and feeling like she was grossly exaggerating the norms of the times. On the one hand, you've got these Victorian teenagers drinking and discussing sex graphically from a pretty well-informed perspective at a time when revealing an ankle was considered scandalous. On the other hand, you've got a singularly beautiful girl being completely forced by her parents (absolutely no veto power granted to her, even though Jane Austen's heroines seemed perfectly capable of rejecting unwanted marriage proposals) to marry a man 40 years older than she is (come on, with her beauty they couldn't at least find a younger guy?) because he has money. I can't claim to know enough about that era to know whether either, or both, of those things were completely inconsistent with the times but they sure didn't ring true to me.
Ditto for the boarding school where the girls seem to get away with murder because the headmistress (called Mrs. Nightwing even though she's apparently a spinster -- did I miss something?) drinks sherry at night and remains blissfully unaware of the girls sneaking out at all hours. And Gemma's cynicism and inner sarcasm also beg the question of anachronism; I'm not saying people didn't have negative thoughts back then, but I think that expressing them in that particular way, even inwardly, is distinctly contemporary. Someone I work with once told me that her teenage daughter says things to her that (and this is a direct quote), "I never even dared to think about my mother." I think there's something to that -- if you go back a few generations, there were certain thoughts that not only weren't expressed, but weren't indulged. You'll never find this kind of direct snarkiness in real Victorian books; if it's there at all, it's expressed in a far more subtle and classy way.
Little aside/disclaimer here: truthfully, I'm not sure how much to criticize Libba for what was arguably a legitimate artistic decision. As she says, "There's definitely an element of 'fusion cooking' at work here. I wanted to have all the trappings of that [Victorian:] era...But I wanted [the girls:] to have a universality to them, too; a sort of modernity of feeling." Is it wrong to try to set a book in Victorian times and, at the same time, try to give your heroine some thoughts and feelings that would make her more relatable for 21st century readers (especially teens)? When I think back on the Victorian books I've read, though, I found the heroines quite relatable within the confines of their being consistent with their context. I didn't need them to express 21st century cynicism in order for me to empathize with them.
Complaint #2 -- way too many coincidences/artificial contrivances. Kartik, an attractive (of course) young man who witnessed Gemma's mother's death, keeps popping up conveniently at the right places at the right times -- first in India, then camping outside of Gemma's British school with the gypsies -- and is somehow present to warn or protect Gemma at practically every critical plot turn. Didn't he have a life? Was it part of the magic angle that he always knew where to be and when? And when Pippa has her seizure while the girls were practicing waltzing under the headmistress's supervision, naturally it was Miss Moore, the avant-garde art teacher (think Julia Roberts' character in "Mona Lisa Smile" or Miss Jean Brodie) who was conveniently present (why? It wasn't art class) to help out and as a result, to be available for a significant heart-to-heart with Gemma. And when Pippa later tries to break off her engagement, why is the headmistress involved? And why does she call a meeting not only with Pippa, but with the other members of the clique, to discuss the whole thing? Wouldn't this be more appropriately dealt with between Pippa, her fiance, and her parents?
Finally, I have to try to articulate my irritation with the writing. Here's a phrase I got from goodreads reviews that I've been longing to use -- the prose was clunky. CLUNKY. CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK. I felt like I was watching a bad movie. Transitions were abrupt or nonexistent, not to mention flat characters and often stilted dialogue.
The one good thing I have to say is that it was a fast read, and for all my complaints, not quite awful enough to abandon. And here or there, there was actually an interesting insight embedded among all the tripe. Hence the two stars....more
If I were really honest, I would probably put this on my "couldn'tfinish" shelf because I skimmed the last 150 pages. As one reviewer said, a book hasIf I were really honest, I would probably put this on my "couldn'tfinish" shelf because I skimmed the last 150 pages. As one reviewer said, a book has to be pretty amazing to justify 500+ pages. And while this book had its strong moments, it mostly fell short of amazing.
The story, in a nutshell, is that of Marion (male) Stone, born with a conjoined twin (but successfully separated at birth) brother, Shiva. The twins are the product of an illicit union between a surgeon and a nun in an Ethiopian hospital. The nun dies, the surgeon runs away, and the twins are raised by two other doctors working in the hospital. Marion nurtures an inexplicably enduring one-sided love (lust, really) for his nanny's daughter, Genet, who then betrays and hurts him repeatedly in all kinds of ways. Eventually, Marion is forced to leave Ethiopia for America, and in a series of unlikely coincidences, reunites with his biological father, with Genet, and with others he knows from his Ethiopia days who have come over to America.
Although the story got off to a strong start, it kind of petered out and died. One reason for this is that it was very unevenly paced. Some events were told to us in excruciating detail; others, arguably more critical, were quickly summarized and moved past. The book was purported by the blurb to be the story of Shiva and Marion's childhood, Shiva's betrayal of Marion, and Marion's subsequent fleeing to America, but we don't get there for the first 175 pages as the backstory (the surgeon and the nun) is told to us in great detail.
Although the backstory ironically ended up being the strongest part of the book for me, as I read it I kept having the nagging feeling of waiting for the real story to start. Then, once it did, most of Shiva and Marion's childhood was glossed over so that we never really get a sense of their relationship or their individual personalities (Shiva comes across as someone with Asperger's, which I know was at least partially deliberate but also felt like a function of Shiva's not having any sort of graspable personality or logic to his actions). Because I didn't find myself empathizing with either of the brothers or feeling their relationship, when the heavily foreshadowed betrayal finally came, it was actually pretty anticlimactic.
The writing was usually pleasant, occasionally even gripping, but sometimes it veered into the overly florid, and the medical/surgical detail was way, way TMI. Maybe I'd have been interested if that were my thing, but it so isn't.
Lots of people liked this book way better than I did, and it might have worked better for me had it been way, way shorter and eliminated the ridiculous Marion-Genet love story. Unfortunately, many of the book's events hinged on that love story which is part of what killed it for me....more
First, a quick summary in case anyone reading this review doesn’t know the basic premise of the novel: Just after WWII, 33-year-old writer Juliet AshtFirst, a quick summary in case anyone reading this review doesn’t know the basic premise of the novel: Just after WWII, 33-year-old writer Juliet Ashton, enjoying the success of her first book and suffering writer’s block, discovers a group of people living on Guernsey, a British island occupied by the Nazis during the war. After being caught in violation of curfew during the occupation and needing an alibi, the Guernsey natives pretended to have been participating in a book club meeting. The natives ended up forming a real book club that continued meeting even after the war, composed of a variety of offbeat characters who begin corresponding with Juliet and charming her. Juliet ends up visiting Guernsey, getting to know the book club members, and writing about them.
This book combined the situation of “Suite Francaise,” the heroine (and some plot devices) of “Love Walked In,” the epistolary style of “84 Charing Cross Road,” and the theme of “Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons.” As I read it, my cynical reader battled with my forgiving reader in a running dialogue.
Cynical reader: Juliet is one ANNOYING chick. The new Mary Sue – on top of all her other wonderful qualities, we give her personality by making her witty! And charming! And cute! And everyone loves her! Unless they’re miserable people with no sense of humor! And don’t we all wish we were her!
Forgiving reader: Oh, come on. Okay, so Juliet is a bit much. But the book’s not bad. You’re still reading, aren’t you?
Cynical reader: And that story about her broken engagement! Give me a fat break! Yeah, like someone as intellectually curious as Juliet is supposed to be would actually get as far as engagement with a guy who would then move out all her books in favor of his sports trophies. And fail to understand why that’s a problem for her. Oh, THAT’s believable.
Forgiving reader: Yeah, I’ll give you that one. A little too much effort to show us how important books are to Juliet, when we probably could have figured it out some subtler way.
Cynical reader: Subtlety was definitely not this book's strong point. And what’s with all these books about people finding redemption through books anyway? Daniel said this better than I will, so here’s a quote from his review of “The Book Thief:”
“Yes, we all love books and believe them valuable -- we wouldn't be readers of this book or any other if we didn't -- but reading doesn't solve everything. The escapism offered by literature is wonderful if you're trying to get away from your dreary job or the drudgery of school, but I find it unlikely it'll make you forget the bombs falling on your neighborhood if you're living in a country at war… I'm just getting sick of all these recently published books telling me how great books are. I know that already. Television shows don't feel a need to keep telling me how fantastic television is, and movies don't keep reminding me that movies are really wonderful, so books don't need to be so defensive either. Just be a really good book, then I'll remember how great literature is.”
Amen, Daniel. At first I really liked novels like “The Thirteenth Tale” and “Shadow of the Wind” which affirmed my love for books, but the theme is getting old. And all these Guernsey farmers suddenly finding fulfillment through literature? Huh? And with such a limited selection of books? I mean, how come none of them ever finds any of the few available books boring, or over their heads?
Forgiving reader: Maybe having fewer books to choose from forces you to read and appreciate books that you’d normally view as too challenging.
Cynical reader: I’m in that situation, thank you very much. Read – yes. Appreciate – not necessarily.
Forgiving reader: And maybe you shouldn’t be so critical of an author’s full-length novel if you can’t even write a review without quoting someone else’s. Just a thought.
Cynical reader: Yeah, I do feel a little guilty. Especially since, with all my gripes, I’m still reading.
Forgiving reader: Yes – for all your criticism, I don’t see you abandoning the book. You, with your ironclad 50-page limit for books you’re not enjoying.
Cynical reader: True. It’s not quite bad enough to put down. But maybe I’m just seeking more material for my review.
Forgiving reader: Or maybe you’re seeing what some of your friends saw – that it’s a light, enjoyable read and that sometimes it’s worth suspending some critical thought in favor of just enjoying a book for what it is.
Cynical reader: You know, I just can’t decide whether this is one of those times. I mean, I loved “Water for Elephants.” Then I read all these goodreads reviews pointing out, aptly, that the romance was too unbelievable and whatnot. And I had a similar experience with “Outlander,” and “The Time Traveler’s Wife.” But I still loved reading those books, despite the legitimate criticism out there.
Forgiving reader: So maybe this book could be in that category. And remember – with those other books, you read the negative reviews AFTER you’d already enjoyed them and formed your impressions. In this case, the negative reviews may have prejudiced you.
Cynical reader: True. All the same, I’m not loving this one. I guess I’ve read books I’ve hated more than this one, but this book definitely has more than its fair share of eye-rolling moments and not a lot of compensatory factors. And I’m finding it way too emotionally manipulative.
Forgiving reader: I feel myself getting weaker…
Cynical reader: I mean, I really can’t stand child characters who are simply miniature Mary Sues modeled after Shirley Temple, so obviously designed to tug at your heartstrings. I have four kids of my own, okay? Where’s the whining? Where are the tantrums? And here, this kid has absent parents and what has to be inconsistent upbringing as various community members share the responsibility for her care – how can she be consistently endearing? Oh – and the one time when she’s rude, it’s because she’s the only one who sees through the evil villain.
Forgiving reader: …and weaker…
Cynical reader: I thought Juliet was bad, but Elizabeth is way larger-than-life. Does she ever do anything that's less than heroic? And I’m getting a little tired of piles upon piles of charming oddball characters who seem quaint and cute at first but, in the final analysis, are pretty superficially drawn, not to mention repetitive. And don’t even get me started on the sudden appearance of graphic holocaust scenes. You KNOW how I feel about that.
Forgiving reader: You can’t give it just one star, though. You did finish it. And it was readable. And even if you didn’t like it much, it didn’t demand a whole lot from you so you can’t really complain.
Cynical reader: Okay, two stars. I didn’t hate it, exactly. And I can see where it might work as a light, quick read for someone who’s in the mood for something sentimental and not too taxing....more
"Lord help me, I'm just not that bright." (Homer Simpson)
Lots of people have raved about this book, including my friend Dena who read it for a class s"Lord help me, I'm just not that bright." (Homer Simpson)
Lots of people have raved about this book, including my friend Dena who read it for a class she took in Science Fiction at U of M. Although I'm not usually a sci-fi fan, I figured I'd try it, especially since she was offering to lend it to me and a free English book is not something you turn down easily in Israel.
I tried. Really, I did. I gave it way, way more than the usual 50 pages I force myself to read before judging a book -- I finally gave up around p. 180 or so. This book is apparently deep and intelligent, which is why I kept pushing myself, but apparently, too deep and intelligent for the likes of me (see above).
The plot, from what I could tell (and it wasn't easy) is about someone from earth visiting another planet in the hopes of including this planet in a growing union of worlds. What makes this new planet unique is that its inhabitants can change their gender, as opposed to being defined by one gender or another (which, I guess, is what makes the book something of a feminist classic although I didn't get a whole lot of feminist insight from it). The narrative is dry and extremely disjointed. It usually reads like a long, boring travelogue, occasionally interrupted by old legends of the planet. Lots of detail and description; not much dialogue or action. Maybe there was psychological complexity somewhere in there, but I just couldn't get past the turgid prose....more
Meh. Not really sure what all those high goodreads ratings were about. Basically, this read like a Disney after-school special: down-on-her-luck houseMeh. Not really sure what all those high goodreads ratings were about. Basically, this read like a Disney after-school special: down-on-her-luck housekeeper and single mother ends up working for an elderly brilliant but crusty math professor; magically, love blossoms between the housekeeper's son and the professor, softening the professor so that the three of them become a family of sorts. Add to that a lot of digressions on math and Japanese baseball, and you've basically read the book. The professor's brain injury-induced memory disorder added a twist (like Dorrie in "Finding Nemo," the professor has limited short-term memory and relies on notes pinned to his suit to remind him, among other things, who his housekeeper and her son are), but it wasn't enough to make this a compelling read. At least the book was mercifully short and easy to read -- that's the one positive thing I have to say about it.
If you like Philippa Gregory and her genre of Harlequin romance-cum-historical fiction, there’s a good possibility you’ll like this book. Personally, If you like Philippa Gregory and her genre of Harlequin romance-cum-historical fiction, there’s a good possibility you’ll like this book. Personally, I just couldn’t get into it. I read the first 50 pages, skimmed the next 240 just for the sake of writing a better-informed review, and couldn’t make myself plod through the last 90. That should tell you something.
The setting, late 1500s India, was definitely original and interesting but wasn’t enough to carry the story for me, especially when it became anachronistic or just plain inconsistent. I assume Sundaresen did her research and knows more than I do about it, but many things just didn’t ring true. Sixteenth century women reading, writing, and talking back to their husbands? Muslims drinking alcohol regularly, with no one batting an eyelash? Veiled women conveniently unveiled when it comes to being observed by their love interests?
The story: Mehrunnisa, our heroine, has a suitably dramatic birth – her parents are impoverished refuges who almost abandon her at the roadside because they can’t take care of her. But fear not – both Mehrunnisa and her parents are rescued by a benevolent merchant with powerful connections. Charmed by Mehrunnisa’s father, he not only adopts the family as part of the caravan, but presents Mehrunnisa’s father at the emperor’s court! The emperor is then charmed by Mehrunnisa’s father and gives him a position! And later, the emperor’s favorite wife is charmed by Mehrunnisa herself, and invites the eight-year-old to visit her regularly in the harem! Wow – that’s a lot of charm. Too bad it was lost on me.
But that’s okay, because it all served to place Mehrunnisa in the perfect position to become enmeshed with the royal family even though she wasn’t a royal. So there they are at the first wedding of Prince Salim, the emperor’s son. Eight-year-old Mehrunnisa, at an age when most little girls would be studying the bride’s gown or bored out of their minds, is taken with Prince Salim’s handsomeness and dreams of marrying him. And sure enough, Prince Salim spots her a few years later and wants her too! But of course multiple obstacles keep the couple apart and, over the next decade or two, they carry the torch for each other despite the fact that their relationship only consists of a few brief early encounters. (Meanwhile, this doesn’t stop Prince Salim from marrying multiple women and enjoying the services of slave girls. But, even with all that libido-sating activity over the decades, he simply can’t forget beautiful Mehrunnisa.) Yup – that’s realistic. Must have been one deep relationship.
Prince Salim himself starts out as a dissolute drinker and opium imbiber, not to mention a complete and total pawn in his advisors’ hands. Gee, I really want to be emperor, thinks Salim. Why can’t my father just die already? My friends think I should poison him – should I listen to them? Hmmm, maybe I’ll try it. The plot is then foiled, and the royal doctor blamed and punished. It gets confusing as Salim alternates between self-recrimination and further plotting against his father. But after all is said and done, he does become emperor and – get this – proves to be a strong, responsible ruler. In fact, other than his good looks, Mehrunnisa claims to be attracted to his strength and leadership. Well, it clearly wasn’t his intelligence, and I guess we’re supposed to believe that Mehrunnisa is too deep to just be enamored of his looks. After all, she is not only beautiful but spirited!
What can I tell you? Lots of people liked this book, and maybe I’m just a cynical curmudgeon. To me, it was a dressed-up Harlequin and not a particularly good one. Harlequins, at least, don’t drag on for 400 pages. ...more
I felt like I should try to finish this book because I think it's something of an American classic, but when I kept asking myself why, I finally decidI felt like I should try to finish this book because I think it's something of an American classic, but when I kept asking myself why, I finally decided to abandon it. The story didn't pull me in, and I didn't find any of the characters particularly sympathetic or engaging. I recognized some good writing, but ultimately, it wasn't enough to keep me going. Apparently several goodreads reviewers share my opinion so at least I'm not the only one....more
The popularity of this book's negative reviews, all of which describe things that I've already noticed in the first 50 pages, has got to tell you someThe popularity of this book's negative reviews, all of which describe things that I've already noticed in the first 50 pages, has got to tell you something. Apparently I'm not the only one who finds this book pretentious, overwritten, and extremely heavy-handed in its efforts to build suspense. Not to mention that fact that I HATE vampire stories. It's readable enough that I might have pushed myself for 2-300 pages, but 704? No way....more
O-kay, I feel validated now. I just voted for two reviews which expressed my feelings about this book, even though they were clearly in the minority. O-kay, I feel validated now. I just voted for two reviews which expressed my feelings about this book, even though they were clearly in the minority. Can we say...overrated?
I gave this two stars instead of one because the language was beautiful at times, and maybe if I'd gotten past p. 98 I would have seen what those Pulitzer people were talking about. But I guess I'm just not that intellectual, because I actually do need a plot to keep me going. It doesn't have to be a page-turner, but the ramblings of a not-very-interesting old man don't do it for me. This read like a self-indulgent memoir, not a work of fiction....more
My name is Renee, and I’m the first protagonist of this book – the hedgehog, as it were. I’m a 54-year-old concierge who works in a building populatedMy name is Renee, and I’m the first protagonist of this book – the hedgehog, as it were. I’m a 54-year-old concierge who works in a building populated by rich and powerful people who barely notice my existence. I’m also a closet intellectual and I frequently try to prove that to you by digressing into asides about philosophy, culture, and other topics. I alternate between sniping at the apartment owners for their snobbish indifference to my lowly concierge self (an image I strive to maintain at every opportunity while blaming the rich apartment owners for buying into it), and terror that they may find out that I read loftier books than they do (I’m as much of a snob as they are, if not worse, but I guess we won’t go there – let’s keep things simple, even though this book is ostensibly higher literature). Given the owners’ apathy toward me, it’s not clear what I fear might actually happen if they learned that I was an intellectual. Probably nothing. But hey, this conflict keeps the book going and maybe makes some kind of a statement about French class differences. I guess you’d have to be French to understand. But you don’t have to be French to feel smug and superior about reading this pretentious novel. In fact, it probably helps if you’re not French because then you’re reading something foreign.
My name is Paloma, and I’m the other protagonist of this book. I’m a brilliant, precocious, underestimated and misunderstood 12-year-old who plans to burn down my apartment and commit suicide on my 13th birthday. I’m not sure exactly why I’m so unhappy. I mean, I can make all kinds of bitter and cynical observations about my parents and sister, but really, I’m not lacking for anything. I can tell you in lofty language about how life truly has no meaning, but for someone so bright, my thinking tends to be pretty two-dimensional as does my personality and my life in general. Although disliking your family is pretty normal in adolescence, it’s not clear why, in all 12 years of existence, I’ve never discovered a friend, teacher, neighbor, or relative who might complicate my unilaterally dark feelings about humanity by actually having some positive qualities. But maybe this is part of what helps me sound like a 50-year-old philosopher even though I’m supposed to be a 12-year-old girl, so I guess that’s something. In fact, I spend so much time sounding intellectual that, except for my melodramatic suicidality, there’s little hint of the fact that, emotionally, I’m really just an early adolescent. A bit more attention to my emotional side might have made my character more interesting, but c’est la vie. I get a little more three-dimensional at the end, but you have to hang in there and I'm not sure it's worth it.
My name is ___, and I’m a reviewer for a snooty periodical. I just finished Muriel Barbery’s The Elegance of the Hedgehog, and my editor is expecting a review from me this week. To be honest, all the pedantic asides left me cold. They took me out of the story and weren’t all that interesting. I kind of skimmed over them, but that’s not something I could ever reveal to my readers. I have to act like I read them, understood them, and appreciated them as only a brilliant reader could. I have to act like they enhanced the novel, rather than detracting from it. Similarly, if I poke holes in the characterization or plot, it might sound as if I didn’t understand or failed to appreciate the depth of this book. When a book comes out that tries to sound like it’s above my head, my job is to rave about it. This way, the snooty readers of my snooty periodical can feel even snootier as they read, even as they also feel alienated by this pretentious book.
*** I (Khaya, not one of the characters) wrote the above when I was about halfway through and feeling very negative. Now that I've finished the book, my opinion mostly stands. I will say, though, that the book had some better moments and was quite readable. It's really a 2-going-on-3-star book, as opposed to a solid 2 or a 2-rounded-up-from-1 book. Definitely didn't live up to its hype, though....more
I can't believe I actually read the first 656 pages of this drivel. As one reviewer said of a different book, there's a time and place for a trashy boI can't believe I actually read the first 656 pages of this drivel. As one reviewer said of a different book, there's a time and place for a trashy book, but 1237 pages is an awful lot of time to devote to trash. "Pillars of the Earth," though no great piece of literature, was a gripping and engaging story most of the way through. This book was not. The writing was clunky, the characters were one-dimensional and sometimes anachronistic, and the plot was surprisingly slow by Ken Follett standards, with no compelling writing to compensate.
I actually realized all this pretty early on, but I was on a long vacation and this was my only book. Eventually I got into the story despite myself, and later on, even as my interest started to wane again, I plodded on because I was too busy to invest the effort of getting into another book. However, with my cousin Yitzchak's encouragement (thanks, Yitzchak!), I have decided that it's simply not worth the time and energy to finish the book. I just don't care enough. On to bigger and -- well, on to better, anyway....more
Khaled here. As I was reviewing my final draft of “A Thousand Splendid Suns,” some questions occurred to me.
1. Could I make the characterTo my editor:
Khaled here. As I was reviewing my final draft of “A Thousand Splendid Suns,” some questions occurred to me.
1. Could I make the characters any less complex? Despite my efforts, I feel I haven’t fully achieved the one-dimensionality my readers seemed to love in “The Kite Runner.” Specifically, I’m afraid I may have given Rassan one or two potentially sympathetic moments early on despite his overall abusive personality (although I more than make up for it). I don’t know whether my readers can handle that level of complexity. Fortunately, aside from that minor lapse with Rassan, I think I managed to keep my characters and their relationships pretty simplistic, although there’s always room for improvement in that regard!
2. Do you think I included enough graphic violent scenes, or should I add another ten or so?
3. Are my characters stereotypical enough?
4. Pretty clever the way I stuffed the facts of recent Afghani history into my characters’ dialogue whenever I could, don’tcha think?
5. Speaking of dialogue, I’m wondering whether I can inject a little more of my agenda into the characters’ conversation or introspection, or maybe structure the plot around it a little more. Any ideas?
6. Isn’t it great that Afghanistan is such a hot topic that mediocre writers like me can make a buck by pandering to people’s intellectual pretensions?
I tried. If I had a shelf for, is-it-just-me-or-does-the-emperor-have-no-clothes, this would be on it. It got great reviews from all the snobby publicI tried. If I had a shelf for, is-it-just-me-or-does-the-emperor-have-no-clothes, this would be on it. It got great reviews from all the snobby publications, and I simply couldn't make heads or tails of it. I didn't get any sense of a novel, and I never quite learned who the narrator (narrators?) was. It felt like each chapter was meant to be its own short story, but within each of those, several different tales were being told in an almost stream-of-consciousness way. One minute we're Catholic Spaniards, the next minute we're Holocaust victims/refugees in various eastern European locations, etc. Maybe I should have given this more of a chance, but I had trouble giving it even the 50 pages I feel I owe any given book before deciding to discard it....more
In Isha Borachat mi-Besorah, a story in the present is used as an excuse to tell a related story about the past. Unfortunately, neither story is partiIn Isha Borachat mi-Besorah, a story in the present is used as an excuse to tell a related story about the past. Unfortunately, neither story is particularly interesting and both are overloaded with superfluous details that make you feel like you’re wading through mud. Although I probably resented the excess detail all the more because I was reading this in Hebrew, I doubt I would have felt more positively had I read this in English.
Present story: Ora’s younger son, Ofer, has just been released from the Israeli army and she was looking forward to spending some time with him. Unfortunately, war has broken out in Israel and, without consulting Ora or taking her feelings into account, Ofer has reenlisted in the army with a callous “Sorry, Mom!” kind of attitude. Ora, overcome with hysteria, decides to run away from home lest she receive bad news about Ofer. She figures, if she’s not home, she won’t get the news. Yeah. Fifty-year-old woman here. I hate to minimize the real pain and fear for the mother of a soldier, but I think this reaction is a little, uh, random, considering she’s already had two sons in the army. But okay. So Ora hires her Palestinian cab-driver (her license has been revoked; further evidence of a little mental instability, hmm?), first to drive her and her son to the army base (great move, Ora) and then to pick up her longtime friend, Avram, so she can drag him on an endless hike, destination unknown. Avram, who has issues of his own, somehow agrees to accompany Ora on this spontaneous many-day jaunt down the length of Israel during which Ora regales him (and us) endlessly with heavily detailed stories of her married life with Ilan and the childhoods of her older son Adam and of Ofer in particular (Ofer is actually Avram’s son – we’ll get to that). Ora figures, as long as I’m telling Avram about Ofer, I’m keeping Ofer alive. Yeah. Whatever. I guess Grossman felt, as long as I’m adding even more details about Ofer’s toilet training, I’m making money.
Past story: Ora, Avram, and Ora’s estranged husband Ilan first met in a hospital at sixteen during the Six Day War, when all three of them were deathly ill. A very intense friendship formed between Ora and Avram with some romantic overtones, although Ora was admittedly put off by Avram’s short stature and apparently not-so-great looks. Avram also began a close friendship with Ilan, whom Ora found far more attractive although Avram was clearly more attentive to Ora’s emotional needs. A few years later, when Ora, Ilan, and Avram were all doing their army service, the three-way friendship became extremely intense with Ora becoming Ilan’s lover, then switching to be Avram’s lover, and finally choosing Ilan over Avram. And this seems to be okay with both Ilan and Avram, who are the deepest of friends in their own right. O-kay. Then, Ilan and Avram called Ora and asked her to perform some kind of a lottery between them for an unknown purpose. Ora drew Avram’s name, and thus unwittingly chose Avram as the one to participate in a dangerous Israeli intelligence operation in Egypt during the Yom Kippur War. Avram is captured and tortured and eventually returned to Israel, physically and emotionally damaged. Avram has no family, and Ora and Ilan (who are married by this time) assume full responsibility for nursing him back to health. During this time, Ora conceives and gives birth to Adam, and Ilan, overcome with survivor’s guilt re. Avram, leaves Ora and Adam for a few years. After his release from the hospital, Avram lives a broken life but finally returns to some semblance of normalcy when Ora seduces him. Yup. Sure enough, Ora conceives Ofer during this encounter and Avram refuses to acknowledge having fathered a child. Ilan then returns to pregnant Ora and toddler Adam with the full knowledge of what happened, so that he can raise Ofer as his own. Avram makes Ora and Ilan swear not to reveal the truth of Ofer’s parentage to anyone, including Ofer, and then disappears from their lives for many years. He eventually reconnects with Ora but wants to hear nothing about Ofer. Until they take this bizarre trip together, where Ora basically talks ad nauseum about Ofer and about her family life in general up to that point and Avram has no choice but to listen.
Now take this really weird premise that’s hard to connect to (and characters who are really hard to understand or empathize with) and overload it with tons of boring, irrelevant details. This is how Ofer learned to crawl (full-blown description). This is how Ofer reacted when he discovered where meat comes from as a kid (full-blown description). This is what happened when Ofer broke up with his girlfriend (full-blown description). And the present story too – Ora and Avram are hiking. They meet a pack of dogs (whole anecdote with the dogs, and one who gets attached to them, and then gets lost, and then somehow finds them again). They meet a fringe religious leader and his constituents (whole boring adventure with the religious leader which doesn’t move the plot along on any level). Ora writes the following in her notebook (more detailed passages about Ofer’s childhood, all spelled out for us). Ora loses her notebook. Someone else finds it, and starts writing his own detailed crap in there (again, all written out in the book for us to read, even though this character is completely marginal). Then Ora finds the notebook again. Yawn. Sigh. How many pages left?
This book, if it had to happen at all (and I question that, seeing as I personally was not grabbed by any aspect of the story), certainly did not need to be 630 pages long. We could have been spared many of the detailed descriptions, particularly in Ora’s monologue. Just because she loves her son and is enamored of sharing every detail of his existence doesn’t mean the reader wants to read about all of it. I was reminded of “A Death in the Family” by James Agee, where an entire dialogue is repeated for the deaf grandmother, and we are treated to the full repetition. Why couldn’t Agee just write, “So they repeated everything for the deaf grandmother” and move on with the story? Here’s a term I got from another goodreads review (a popular review of “Twilight,” incidentally) – summary narrative. A good author knows when to supply details, and when to simply summarize what happened and move on. I felt this way here too. Okay, I get it – Ora loves her son and talking about him to poor, long-suffering Avram (who basically just listens the whole time) is therapeutic for her, and makes her feel like she’s keeping him alive in some cosmic way. So just say that, and move on! If I were in the presence of someone who talked endlessly and in full detail about trivial episodes in her child’s life, I would be incredibly bored and irritated (unless the context were professional, of course). So why would I want to read a whole incredibly long book like that? In difficult Hebrew? ...more
After some grappling and soul-searching, I have finally decided not to finish this book. As Karen said in her review, there's nothing wrong with indulAfter some grappling and soul-searching, I have finally decided not to finish this book. As Karen said in her review, there's nothing wrong with indulging in a trashy novel occasionally, but 750 pages is a big investment for trash.
This book reminded me of some of the Philippa Gregory books I've tried to read and abandoned, although I did find the characters here slightly more interesting. Barbara, a beautiful (how could she not be?), headstrong (naturally) 15-year-old is engaged to 40-something Lord Roger Devane, whom she loves in a worshipful way, and you just know that she's going to get hurt in this relationship. Although this worshipful unrequited love by heroines has annoyed me in the past, I could forgive it a little -- just a little -- in Barbara because she is, after all, 15. Roger has agreed to marry little Barbara despite their age difference because she comes with property in which he would like to invest. Roger, though mostly a cad, actually does care for Barbara on some level, although his love clearly doesn't match hers (a deeply rooted passion which is based on, uh, his good looks?). It takes them a while to actually get married, because of scheming on the part of various family members with regard to the property and milking Roger. As a result, the book was slower than your typical Harlequin-cum-historical-romance, and I closed it after finally reaching their wedding night on page 250 or so.
Other things that annoyed me included ridiculously heavy-handed characterization. For example, Barbara's cousin Tony, the stupid-but-goodhearted character in the book, continuously leaves off the first words of his sentences in an effort to remind you of his limited intelligence, except for those rare moments where he shines in heroically. His sentences in those scenes are helpfully complete, sometimes accompanied by asides from the author pointing out that this was one of the rare occasions in which he spoke in full sentences. What is that? Is he just pretending to be dumb the rest of the time? I wasn't motivated to read far enough to solve this mystery. Barbara also consistently lifts her chin whenever she's deciding to defy authority. She's lifting her chin -- look out, world!
These types of trashy-pretending-to-be-literary historical romances are also often guilty of anachronism. I found the character of Roger's friend Tommy Carlyle, a flaming homosexual complete with heels, make-up, and sexy young men draped on his arms, extremely difficult to swallow for the 1700s. Look -- I don't know much about that period of history, but I really find it hard to believe that one could be so blatantly homosexual and still function as a part of high society in those days, a group which, in this book, included the British royal family (another hallmark of this type of historical fiction -- of course, they're all best buds with the people in the history books, as Sarah pointed out in her review of "March").
I actually gave this three stars because, if you're a more forgiving reader who likes historical romance, I could see this being a good read despite its flaws. If it had been shorter and tighter, I would have finished it and maybe even enjoyed it. However, if you want a good historical romance, I would suggest "Outlander" by Diana Gabaldon instead....more
Louise Erdrich is a good writer, and I enjoyed "The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse" and "The Master Butchers' Singing Club." However, Louise Erdrich is a good writer, and I enjoyed "The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse" and "The Master Butchers' Singing Club." However, "Love Medicine" was just too dark and gritty for me. Serious dysfunction and physical abuse, alcoholism, infidelity, poverty, etc. There was a little redemption at the end, but it didn't make up for the depressing feeling I was left with overall.
I picked up "The Beet Queen" at the same sale; we'll see if it's any better but I think I need a break first....more
What can I tell you? Everyone seems to be reading and loving this book, and it just couldn't sustain my interest. He's a good writer, and it read likeWhat can I tell you? Everyone seems to be reading and loving this book, and it just couldn't sustain my interest. He's a good writer, and it read like a really long "New Yorker" article, but the topic somehow didn't grab me and I didn't find myself pulled in, despite his good writing. Way too detailed for me. I've read books about topics I didn't have a natural interest in which did succeed in grabbing me, such as "Confederates in the Attic" by Tony Horwitz. This one just didn't do it for me....more
As I read this, my idealistic and cynical sides battled fiercely. What a beautiful, inspirational fable in simple language, my idealistic side said. WAs I read this, my idealistic and cynical sides battled fiercely. What a beautiful, inspirational fable in simple language, my idealistic side said. What simplistic and facile crap, my cynical side said. I really couldn't decide, and having finished it, I'm still going back and forth.
This book reminded me a lot of "Jonathan Livingston Seagull." It was a fable about a young boy who has a dream and pursues it against the odds. Various nuggets of wisdom are dispensed along the way by people he meets and by his own inspiration. Sometimes these nuggets of wisdom resonated with me; other times I rolled my eyes and groaned.
In its favor, the book is a quick and easy read, and the message of following your dreams at all costs has a lot of emotional appeal. However, if we allow ourselves to think practically, what would happen to the world if everyone adopted this message and sacrificed for their dreams? Do dreams ever steer you wrong? What about all the people who think they are "following their personal legend," only to come up against a dead end? At what point do you give up and say, I've sacrificed too much and am probably not going to realize this dream, or if I do, it may not prove to be worth it? Naturally, the book didn't acknowledge this possibility.
On the whole, I would say that if you're curious about this book, it's worth reading because it doesn't require a lot of effort or time and is thought-provoking, at least....more
This month's book club selection. I see why this got good reviews, but I just didn't enjoy reading it. The topic was extremely depressing, and the pacThis month's book club selection. I see why this got good reviews, but I just didn't enjoy reading it. The topic was extremely depressing, and the pacing exceedingly slow. The writing and characterization were good, and he really captured every possible nuance of the father's death and the surrounding relatives' reactions. However, he chose to do this by recording every single movement, thought, and bit of dialogue, for example, even when things had to be repeated for the deaf grandmother, he quoted the repetition verbatim rather than simply stating, "and then Andrew repeated what was said for his mother's benefit" or something like that.
I'm not sure whether it's that this book was published 50 years ago and I'm used to a more contemporary writing style, or whether in fact there's an art to capturing dialogue without exposing you to every single utterance, including the inane ones. It's true -- by giving us every stupid sentence uttered, even if it was repetitive or vapid, James Agee really captured the scene and made you feel like you were there. However, isn't it even better if an author can do this by carefully selecting a few lines, details, etc. so that you can feel the essence of the scene without feeling like you're wading through mud?...more
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