In The Sellout, Paul Beatty combines a lighthearted, playful narrative with intelligent and relevant social satire. It's less a story than a series ofIn The Sellout, Paul Beatty combines a lighthearted, playful narrative with intelligent and relevant social satire. It's less a story than a series of connected anecdotes, though that's not really a shortcoming: the writing is engaging and provocative throughout. Beatty's approach to the analysis of race-relations in America through what often appears to be a validation of racist tropes can be discomfiting, but I guess acknowledging and confronting these unspoken foundations of the cultural experience is really the whole point of the novel. ...more
Lincoln in the Bardo is a difficult novel to rate. Certainly it is highly original, both in style and content, though it is precisely these unique eleLincoln in the Bardo is a difficult novel to rate. Certainly it is highly original, both in style and content, though it is precisely these unique elements that make it a difficult novel to enjoy directly. There is a distance created, an intentional confusion, a layer of obfuscation shrouding the characters; a sort of fragmentation strongly reminiscent of Faulkner. All of this makes the first half of the novel quite challenging, though the reward is claimed in the second half, after enough clues have been left for the reader to finally understand the perspective from which the narrative originates. The novel reveals itself as being not about Lincoln at all, but about the losses and regrets faced by all people, which are rendered irrevocable in death. Lincoln in the Bardo is a wonderful novel, though perhaps mostly so in hindsight....more
Contrary to most reviewers, I wasn’t all that impressed by the prose; in fact it may have been a point of distraction for me. It’s certainly elegant, Contrary to most reviewers, I wasn’t all that impressed by the prose; in fact it may have been a point of distraction for me. It’s certainly elegant, but it feels overwrought and lacking in character. Banville frequently sacrifices clarity of meaning for the sake of an offbeat word or original turn of phrase (I recall one awkward instance of the word “twelvemonth”, meaning year). I don’t ordinarily have a problem with this kind of writing – in fact it often appeals to me – except in this case it didn’t seem all that capably brought about. There were so many shoehorned adjectives and adverbs, an over-description of mundane and recognisable items, a certain overused anthropomorphism of natural and inanimate occurrences, such as imbuing the chiming of a clock or the beating of the sun with emotional intent: it all felt like an attempt to instil a sense of movement and vitality into an otherwise very flat, very small story. There were indeed some lovely sentences, but I felt the most personally affected when the interjection of an occasional loose or course phrase broke apart the monotony.
The novel itself is a perceptive study of a flawed character, exploring some interesting aspects of this time of reflection. There were many elements I enjoyed: of the narrator grappling with grief, his complex relationship with his wife, and the retrospective examination of the ways in which feelings and ambitions can be moulded, and change throughout the course of one’s life (or perhaps this constitutes less a change than an acknowledgement of earlier self-deception). I found the climax of the story (if it can be so-called) to be uninspired and not really credible in the context of the world that the novel had established. In fact it seemed somewhat superfluous, and came across to me as a last-ditch effort to make a mark, and leave the reader with a plot point by which to recall and justify the novel. The fact is, if all the disparate relationships and events described up to that point had not been sufficient to give overall significance and purpose to the novel, a final surprise plot twist certainly wasn't going to do it. ...more
This was much better than I had expected, based on other reviews, and I think expectation is everything with this novel. It's not really a story with This was much better than I had expected, based on other reviews, and I think expectation is everything with this novel. It's not really a story with a plot, and the characters experience little in the way of change or development. And it’s not quite a stream of consciousness, either. It’s kind of a mix of impressions and dialogue; the world seen through the mind of its young protagonist. The experience reminded me a bit of Gaddis’s JR, and I think the best way to read this kind of impressionistic narrative is quickly and loosely, without giving too much attention to keeping track of the characters, just sort of letting the thing wash over you.
The way Doyle captures the spirit of childhood is spot-on, and through its sequence of vignettes the novel paints a vivid picture of Ireland somewhere around the middle of last Century. The narrative voice feels authentic, and avoids many of the common cliches and tropes of child narrators, like false innocence, or using the child to emotionally manipulate the reader. It is an intelligent perspective. There is a kind of raw humanity at play in these children, untempered by the refinements of adulthood. They are sharp, ruthless, and amoral.
They children have an expectation of order and certainty in the adult world, which is challenged as those around them fall prey to weakness and failure. Between the lines of happy play we can see the repression, the frustration and the violence of the child’s world, elements which are paralleled in the adult word, which is equally beset, though perhaps in more complex and insoluble ways. There is a sense of the cyclical nature of these problems; the ways they inevitably propagate from one generation to the next. But there is also the small hope that comes in recognising these failings, and striving in oneself to do a little better.
* * * * * * *
My copy of the novel, which I purchased second-hand, has the following written in the title page:
Darling Timmie,
My third Christmas with (you? - word omitted) is as lovely as the first. thankyou for making my 1993 so special. I look forward to an even better year for you
love me xox.
It's fascinating to come across these kinds of notes in second-hand books. I wonder, where did these people live, and what was their relationship? It's too intimate to be just a friend, and the "third Christmas" statement doesn't make sense in a family context. So they must have been in a close relationship of some sort. Did it work out between them? Were they happy together, and did it last?
The note is now a quarter of a century old, and a lot can happen in that time. I wonder about their story. How did this book become a small part of their lives for a period of time, what changes did their lives undergo, and what were the circumstances that caused the book to be given away or sold, for it to eventually make its way into the charity shop, where I noticed it and bought it for a dollar, and placed it on my bookshelf for two years, before finally reading it and writing this review. I wonder, what will be the rest of this book's story?...more
This was my first Coetzee, and so my expectations were modest, as they usually are with a new author. Literature being so diverse, it usually takes a This was my first Coetzee, and so my expectations were modest, as they usually are with a new author. Literature being so diverse, it usually takes a little time to connect with an author’s particular style and voice, and there is something of an act of persuasion as the author slowly reveals themselves and coaxes you around to his or her point of view. Not so with Disgrace, which immediately gripped me in its raw power and honest depiction of the decline and fall of David Lurie. In his portrayal of Lurie, Coetzee is able to create sympathy for the unlikable character by exposing his peculiar sense of morality and the logic of his mind. Though his actions are not admirable, one cannot help but respect a person who demonstrates such resilience in the face of hardship.
The central theme - disgrace – is in itself emotionally powerful. A disgraced person becomes the focus of total and enduring moral derision, the effect of which is social isolation and deep, personal shame. Issues of morality, responsibility, dignity, blame and regret come to the fore, and these issues permeate the novel, which intertwines these with issues of poverty and race relations in South Africa. The novel is in many ways about the inevitable and inherent failings of man (or more precisely, male-ness), which appears to be the underlying cause of much of the damage. The differences between male and female nature are contrasted here, both in their role as the cause of, and reaction to the various disgraces depicted. The questions of responsibility, dignity and respect, are paralleled again in man’s treatment of animals, and indeed in man’s animal nature. The overwhelming feeling is one of powerlessness: the unavoidable prices that must be paid – or perhaps it is only stubbornness: the refusal to pay the price (in this question, is dignity considered a value or a vice?). This is a book of remarkable depth, especially considering its length. Coetzee absolutely explodes the central theme of disgrace, and leaves it to the reader to work through the mess. ...more
What is this absurd nonsense. Everything I wrote yesterday about Black Dogs in terms of plot and characterisation applies equally to Amsterdam, exWhat is this absurd nonsense. Everything I wrote yesterday about Black Dogs in terms of plot and characterisation applies equally to Amsterdam, except where Black Dogs attempts (but fails) to be a good novel, Amsterdam seems to lack even the intention. It is impossible to take this novel seriously. The characters are ridiculous. The plot is ridiculous. The entire novel is a setup to a conclusion so laughably stupid, that it made me want reevaluate my ratings of McEwan's other novels. Sure, it kept me turning the pages, but for what?
A cheap thriller, and not even a good one. This won the Booker? ...more
To the classic aphorism concerning things by which one should not judge a book, I would like to add the following: its rating on Goodreads, and the opTo the classic aphorism concerning things by which one should not judge a book, I would like to add the following: its rating on Goodreads, and the opinions of others. The Sense of an Ending, with its mediocre 3.69 stars (as rated by a jury of almost one hundred thousand of our peers), fails to attain the esteem of even that much-maligned whipping-boy of terrible literature, The Da Vinci Code, onto which its nearly 1.5 million readers have bestowed a comparatively lofty 3.76 stars. Similarly, browsing through the reviews (although generally positive) I find very little that would seem to agree with my absolute love of this near-perfect little novel.
Such is the nature of taste, I suppose.
The Sense of an Ending is an honest and personal examination of the small failures of humanity: the failures of youth; our failures to understand others and to actualise ourselves; and the rationalisation of our mistakes. The narrative manages to locate some elusive timbre; it reveals elements of our nature that are generally so ethereal and hard to pin down and difficult to confront that they are seldom ever written about. And yet, these are the subtle but critical realities of life - the sum of our small failures inevitably coalesces into our greatest fears and regrets. I found so much to identify with in this book, it's actually a little devastating....more
The Remains of the Day examines the question of what it means to have led a good life. The protagonist, Mr Stevens, seeks for himself only to carry ouThe Remains of the Day examines the question of what it means to have led a good life. The protagonist, Mr Stevens, seeks for himself only to carry out his profession with the utmost dedication and care. But at the end of a career the products must be examined, as must the costs. Can a life lived so earnestly and so well, also be a wasted life?
In this book, Ishiguro has found a charming and compelling voice in Mr Stephens. Through the facade of his professional manner, the reader is allowed glimpses into a deeper story, of which even the narrator himself appears to be unaware. From these glimpses a subtle narrative slowly develops, and the picture is one of a repressed melancholy (I'm reminded of the Pink Floyd lyrics, "Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way"). Stevens reveals his very ordinary imperfections, but betrays hidden failings that have had profound implications on his life.
The voice, the tone and the structure of this novel are all perfectly executed, and Ishiguro's writing is vibrant, yet superbly controlled....more
There is a compelling story in here, but unfortunately it's burdened by excessive explanation, confused religious allegory and mediocre writing.
The AThere is a compelling story in here, but unfortunately it's burdened by excessive explanation, confused religious allegory and mediocre writing.
The Author's Note promises that the story will make you believe in God. The problem was not that I didn't find the message persuasive, it was that the message was so confused it wasn't clear what it actually was, or in what way it was supposed to point towards a confirmation of God. I get the impression that the aim was less about persuasion, than it was about reinforcing notions of the importance of faith that are already held by believers.
From a literary standpoint, there is not much to redeem it. The book is poorly structured, the prose is often tacky and the story is longer than it deserves to be. The reader is constantly assumed to be unintelligent - every metaphor is explained, every connection pointed out, and any potential matter for contemplation is quickly snatched away by exposition.
The plot however, for the most part, is engaging. It's basically a story of survival against the odds, and so has all the tension and anticipation you'd expect. The narrator does possess some humour and charm, however the story seems to get lost after a while, and takes a pointless detour or two towards the end. But overall it's entertaining enough to keep you reading.
The ending is clever and surprising, and it casts the preceding story in a new light. But in some ways it also seems to undermine what has been developed. There is an implied lesson here about the truth being what you want it to be, which I don't agree with: the truth is what it is regardless of your attitude towards it. You can choose to deny reality and make up a less troubling version for yourself, but that's not a good choice in my opinion. Maybe that's why I didn't find the book's message all that convincing....more
Finished, but not rated. I listened to the audio book, and I just don't think it did the book justice. While the audio book performance is fine, this Finished, but not rated. I listened to the audio book, and I just don't think it did the book justice. While the audio book performance is fine, this just seems like a book that needs to be read, not listened to. I will rate and review after I read this the traditional way....more
Midnight’s Children did not quite live up to my expectations, which were set very high by the book’s reputation. It’s a complex, messy novel; colourfuMidnight’s Children did not quite live up to my expectations, which were set very high by the book’s reputation. It’s a complex, messy novel; colourful, filled with a blend of fantasy and possibility, and a mood that is at once hopeful and resigned. It presents history as memory and story rather than settled fact, and beautifully weaves the human with the epic and the mythic.
I did appreciate the central metaphor and structure: the expression of the birth and growth of a nation through that of its children; the promise of greatness, and the eventual decline of its potential through human failings – these work on the personal and national scale (and in a third mystical, metaphysical dimension at which the novel hints), and what the novel does well - though perhaps a little too heavy-handedly at times - is draw together these parallel lines and overlapping themes. But I often got a sense of the author losing himself within the novel’s framework, desperately seeking something tangible to point to among the random happenings and loose connections - the final section itself seems entirely a uncertain search for a meaningful resolution. The result is a novel that is too much concerned with the frenzied antics of its array of fantastical characters, each with his own peculiar quirk – a strange physical feature (nose, ears, knees, breasts), a recurring phrase ("whatsitsname") – though some of these characters and events are memorable, many seem shallow and superfluous, and I found the repetition of this formula less and less compelling as the novel wore on.
Rushdie is an accomplished writer: he writes elegantly and with great energy. However I was not drawn to the voice of Saleem Sinai, or generally captivated by his characters. I found the whimsical tone a little overbearing at times. Too often there were little tricks and tropes that stood out to me, such as the aforementioned inexhaustible cast of quirky characters, and repeated abuse of minor cliff-hangers, which often made promises that were never suitably fulfilled. I did enjoy the many forays into Indian history, but I think that is interesting in itself, not necessarily made more so by the novel....more
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