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Darwin8u's Reviews > Nutshell
Nutshell
by
by
Alas poor phœtus! I knew him, McEwan: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me in his sac a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is!
Seriously, Hamlet + 3rd Trimester + Conspiracy + Poetry = funky magic. According to Christopher Booker*, "there are only seven basic plots in the whole world -- plots that are recycled again and again in novels, movies, plays and operas." Ian McEwan sucks the Hamlet story right up into the Queen of Denmark's uterus. Not really. This is not Hamlet, rather Hamletesque. I'm going to have to carry this to be or not to be baby through a dreamless night to properly bring her to full-term.
Ian McEwan seems to have been drinking a lot with Martin Amis. This seems to be almost too clever, but it is so unique that he kinda pulls the little bugger off. Imagine Hamlet soliloquizing inside his mother as his uncle Claude bangs his cock against his mum's thin uterine wall. This is the twisted stuff of literature and art. This is where both dreams and nightmares are born and borne. This novella contains both the spilt seeds of life AND the unfrozen nectar of death. Out of the mouth of unborn babes and placenta-nursing fetuses - tipsy after mum has had her 4th wine - new truths about the world are discovered. I wander, but not far too far; trapped within a membrane, I don't want to give much away.
*This quote is actually directly from an April 2015, NYTimes review of his book The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories by Michiko Kakutani
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me in his sac a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is!
Seriously, Hamlet + 3rd Trimester + Conspiracy + Poetry = funky magic. According to Christopher Booker*, "there are only seven basic plots in the whole world -- plots that are recycled again and again in novels, movies, plays and operas." Ian McEwan sucks the Hamlet story right up into the Queen of Denmark's uterus. Not really. This is not Hamlet, rather Hamletesque. I'm going to have to carry this to be or not to be baby through a dreamless night to properly bring her to full-term.
Ian McEwan seems to have been drinking a lot with Martin Amis. This seems to be almost too clever, but it is so unique that he kinda pulls the little bugger off. Imagine Hamlet soliloquizing inside his mother as his uncle Claude bangs his cock against his mum's thin uterine wall. This is the twisted stuff of literature and art. This is where both dreams and nightmares are born and borne. This novella contains both the spilt seeds of life AND the unfrozen nectar of death. Out of the mouth of unborn babes and placenta-nursing fetuses - tipsy after mum has had her 4th wine - new truths about the world are discovered. I wander, but not far too far; trapped within a membrane, I don't want to give much away.
*This quote is actually directly from an April 2015, NYTimes review of his book The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories by Michiko Kakutani
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Great Review, Darwin!"
Thanks Elyse. I enjoyed yours too. I'm glad I wandered into this one.