Good theatre suspends you in reality. Good theatre captures a moment in time that could be now. And The Pillowman does this superbly. This is, indeed,Good theatre suspends you in reality. Good theatre captures a moment in time that could be now. And The Pillowman does this superbly. This is, indeed, a deeply disturbing play, chiefly because it could be real.
It all begins with some dark stories. A writer has written some brutal pieces about child murder and butchery. Someone has read his work and has decided to carry out the deeds within them. The writer, Katurian, has been brought in for questioning. The opening scene is reminiscent of Kafka’s The Trial. The protagonist is being investigated and put on trial for events he has no understanding of. Kafkaesque is a word that is on the tip of the performers tongue all through the scene, but it never is actually spoken despite the blatant allusions: it doesn’t quite need to be said. This effect is later removed as the situation becomes clearer.
What replaces it is a relationship straight out of Of Mice and Men. Katurian has a younger brother, one who is strikingly similar to Lenny. His concept of right and wrong is vague, though pure of heart; he will do anything he is told to do. The two brothers have a darker past, an abusive childhood that has bound them together out of survival and mutual affection. The investigators of the crime are certain it was one, or perhaps both, of them that carried out the killings. The questions begin as does the torture, though central to Katurian’s mind is what’s going to happen to his writing if he is found guilty.
“It isn't about being or not being dead, it's about what you leave behind”
[image]
So the play questions the legacy of writing, and the responsibly of its content. Who is to blame in such a situation? Can the writer be held accountable for someone else’s obsessions and misconceptions over his work? This play may all sound terribly bleak, but running through it is a string of irony and self-reflexive moments. The characters draw attention to their own stupidity and the limitedness from the position in which they operate; thus, tragedy is infused with dark comedy making the play a true enjoyment to watch.
If you get the chance, I highly recommend watching a version of this after reading it.
Merged review:
Good theatre suspends you in reality. Good theatre captures a moment in time that could be now. And The Pillowman does this superbly. This is, indeed, a deeply disturbing play, chiefly because it could be real.
It all begins with some dark stories. A writer has written some brutal pieces about child murder and butchery. Someone has read his work and has decided to carry out the deeds within them. The writer, Katurian, has been brought in for questioning. The opening scene is reminiscent of Kafka’s The Trial. The protagonist is being investigated and put on trial for events he has no understanding of. Kafkaesque is a word that is on the tip of the performers tongue all through the scene, but it never is actually spoken despite the blatant allusions: it doesn’t quite need to be said. This effect is later removed as the situation becomes clearer.
What replaces it is a relationship straight out of Of Mice and Men. Katurian has a younger brother, one who is strikingly similar to Lenny. His concept of right and wrong is vague, though pure of heart; he will do anything he is told to do. The two brothers have a darker past, an abusive childhood that has bound them together out of survival and mutual affection. The investigators of the crime are certain it was one, or perhaps both, of them that carried out the killings. The questions begin as does the torture, though central to Katurian’s mind is what’s going to happen to his writing if he is found guilty.
“It isn't about being or not being dead, it's about what you leave behind”
[image]
So the play questions the legacy of writing, and the responsibly of its content. Who is to blame in such a situation? Can the writer be held accountable for someone else’s obsessions and misconceptions over his work? This play may all sound terribly bleak, but running through it is a string of irony and self-reflexive moments. The characters draw attention to their own stupidity and the limitedness from the position in which they operate; thus, tragedy is infused with dark comedy making the play a true enjoyment to watch.
If you get the chance, I highly recommend watching a version of this after reading it....more
The Borrowed is an engaging book that chronicles the life of an extraordinary Hong-Kong based detective through piecing together seven novellas, each The Borrowed is an engaging book that chronicles the life of an extraordinary Hong-Kong based detective through piecing together seven novellas, each reporting on an intriguing case, that slowly reveals exactly how talented he is.
By doing do, the book navigates its way through the history of Hong Kong policing. It details how it has changed and developed over the years, by going backwards in time we see how far things have come. And this is a real clever technique, not one I have seen before in fiction. The book begins with its protagonist on death’s door, unable to work Senior inspector Kwan Chun-dok can only consult junior detectives through the help of some rather advanced technology that allows him to communicate despite being in a coma. Regardless, he still proves a great help in the case. Not even death can stop him.
As the book goes back in time, we see the inspector in all his glory. He has the skill and intelligence to match either Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot, earning the alias “The Eye of Heaven” because of his intuitive perceptiveness. Like the two great investigators, he is willing to look outside of the law to find his solution when necessary and he is always ahead of his quarry. The reader is not aware of all the facts, but Kwan Chun-dok has already pieced the clues together. What follows is a big reveal at the end of most of the sections. Each part is a little different and each full of mystery and intrigue, and they are all genuinely exciting to read about.
Other than exceling at characterising the detective, and filling the novellas with heaps of suspense, Chan Ho-Kei’s time shifts also provide a social picture of China and the people that have lived there over the decades. This is more than just a thrilling detective drama. The story goes back by fifty years, chronicling the aftermath of communism, poverty and captures the brutality of vicious gangs like the triads. Kwan Chun-dok navigates his way through the social issues as he tries to solve his cases. The book does wonders at capturing the city, a city that is rich in its own culture. And the culture is varied. There is no unifying sense of identity, but a collection of smaller spaces that are linked to the history of China as whole but together help to create part of the present.
Chan Ho-Kei does not tell his story with flowery or glittery prose, he is certainly not a flashy writer, but what he does do is report exactly on the things his characters see, think and smell. It gives a sense of realness to the writing, a sense of realness to the city and the people that inhabit it. He also has natural ear for dialogue and all the clumsiness can come with real speech. Through his words, I feel like I have walked the streets and witnessed how alive and fast Hong Kong can be. And, for me, that’s a real feat of writing. It is totally immersive....more
American Psycho is an energetic display of brutal writing.
It’s without a doubt the most gruesome thing I’ve read. It’s horrifying and truly shocking American Psycho is an energetic display of brutal writing.
It’s without a doubt the most gruesome thing I’ve read. It’s horrifying and truly shocking at times. I had to put the book down on several occasions whilst I recovered from the graphic nature of some of it. So, a word of warning, if you don’t like blood don’t even bother picking this one up. It’s full of mutilations and brutal murder.
But the violence was so completely necessary in all its terribleness because it captures something very disturbing about the world. A question, if you will: how many people truly know you? I’m not talking about the you that everybody sees, but the real you. Not many, I’m sure. We only ever truly know ourselves because we are the only one who has access to our thoughts and hidden desires. Bateman knows this and he uses it to his advantage.
“...there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.”
Nobody knows him. He appears to be a conformist, blending comfortably into society and all its stupid materialistic aspirations. He is very well aware of the problems society faces. His speech at the start of the book is a convincing argument, though none of his "friends" sat around the dinner table are willing to listen to him and address a real problem. They are too materialistic and self-absorbed to consider anything beyond their own lives. They simply carry on with their conversation as if he never spoke; thus, he continues on with his own destructive behaviour and slowly becomes more and more trapped, repressed and angry. I think he was, however, only ever probing them for a response to know how much he can get away with.
The book is a heavy critique on consumerism and the ridiculous nature of it. Everybody is obsessed with the latest brands and most expensive products. The homeless are always remarked on as Bateman walks past them wearing his ridiculously expensive clothing. There are endless descriptions of goods and products. The use of such a device in the narrative was a perfect way to expose how out of touch society is. It doesn’t see what’s in front of it, which allows the real Bateman to explore his darkest and most evil of fantasies unnoticed as he enacts the charade that is his life. It’s an immensely clever book and though the narrative does become dry and repetitive, it was totally necessary to show the mind of a psychopath and his fixations.
“All it comes down to is this: I feel like shit but look great.”
That being said though, I found myself struggling to read it. It wasn’t the violence or the nastiness of the protagonist that put me off, although that was truly disturbing, it was the pessimism that ran through the book. There is no hope in sight. Ellis shows us a dark part of reality, and it left me feeling rather depressed. (This isn’t a criticism of the writing, for it is a fantastic creation, it’s just a summary of my feelings, such as they are.) Afterwards, I found myself craving something light and fluffy, something that would lift my spirits and restore some of my faith in humanity.
It’s an intense book and it could leave you feeling rather shit. It affected me quite strongly, which bespeaks the power of this narrative.
I met Elizabeth Haynes at a book talk a couple of years ago now and she seemed liked a really nice person. She was so friendly and signed my copy of tI met Elizabeth Haynes at a book talk a couple of years ago now and she seemed liked a really nice person. She was so friendly and signed my copy of this book. It contrast her novel is not nice. It’s anything but. It’s dark and gripping, and it’s about a very fucked up man.
This is not the sort of thing that I usually go for, psychological thrillers usually bore the hell out of me because they try too hard to be clever and turn the plot into a labyrinth. Haynes keeps it simple, and simple works really well here.
She splits the novel into two perspectives four years apart, a before and after if you like. They are told side by side and it took me a while to realise that they were both the same character. And that’s the greatest strength of the novel, the radical shift in personality, confidence and voice the protagonist (Catherine) undergoes after her traumatic ordeal. She is completely ruined and has to work so hard to pick herself up and carry on with her life. Simple tasks like socialising and locking her front door become dominated by anxiety and paranoia. She has an obsessive security check routine she has to carry out every time she leaves the house. And in terms of creating a character with a real life mental disorder, this was done fantastically well.
Let’s rewind a bit. How does she get there?
“This isn't normal. This isn't how normal people think. Fuck off, world- what the hell is normal anyway?”
She met (seemingly) mister right and he rocked her world, though beneath his false display of confidence and stability was something sinister. He’s a damaged little man and an angry one, angry at the world and the one who broke his heart many years before (or so he says). As such, he is ridiculously possessive, violent and completely toxic. Though before his true personality began to surface, Catherine fell in love with his more charming aspects. He seduced her, and she was putty in his strong hands. He appeared to be the perfect man, but appearances are always deceptive.
The thing that really drove the story forward for me was my eagerness to see exactly what caused the destruction of Catherine, turning her into a shadow of herself. And the shift was believable and cleverly written. I can understand why her steps were haunted by this man who claimed to love her but almost broke her in two, and when he finally got out of prison the novel became quite intense. I read it all rather quickly, though I think it would have been better if Catherine was a more compelling character to begin with. She had a rather flat personality before she was chained up in a basement and as such all the quirkiness was only born because of torment. Sounds a bit mean, though really she didn’t have much going for her.
So this was a decent read, and I enjoyed something a bit different to my usual fare though I am in no rush to ever read anything by her again....more
The Woman in White promises so much and delivers very little.
The first hundred pages of the book are gripping and intense. Wilkie Collins begins with The Woman in White promises so much and delivers very little.
The first hundred pages of the book are gripping and intense. Wilkie Collins begins with an atmospheric mystery that is exciting and almost haunting. I really wanted to know all the secrets the story had to offer.
So even when the book began to grow a little dull around the middle I carried on reading because I hoped that the dryness would be worth it, my patience was bound to be rewarded. (I was so terribly mistaken.) The big reveal at the end is so ridiculously anti-climactic that I actually laughed. That’s what I had been waiting for all this time?
For a book like this, one that is driven by the plot rather than the characters, it is such a major downfall. The real problem this story had is its pacing. There is simply too much middle where the story just doesn't go anywhere and the characters fret over the same facts but get no closer to understanding what any of it means. I grew bored of the endless speculation and marriage politics. I wanted something to happen beyond the seemingly endless conversation that held no substance.
And the entire situation was agony. It was just so frustrating! It simply did not need to happen whatsoever and was predictable to a fault. When you get into bed with a nasty person it’s hardly surprising that your life turns to shit; yet, for the characters it came as a drastic shock. Wake up! Look at the real world! Surely, surely, nobody would be that stupid?
I gave up caring. It was a relief to finish....more
Agatha Christie offers her readers an invite, an invite to come and solve her tantalising murder mystery.
It was a real tricky one, though I did have mAgatha Christie offers her readers an invite, an invite to come and solve her tantalising murder mystery.
It was a real tricky one, though I did have my suspicions very early on. There was a certain emphasis on a tiny bit of information that we didn’t really need to know that gave the game away. It added little to the story and, for me, only had the purpose of giving her killer an excuse not to be the killer. So it was obviously that person. Most readers seem to have been utterly dumbfounded at the reveal but I spotted it a mile of, perhaps only because I have seen the same device used in a book by another author. I’m not going to mention the name of the book because it will give it all away.
Nevertheless, when it was finally confirmed it still brought me a great deal of delight. The actual murder event was ever so discreet, tucked in between two paragraphs in plain sight that will always be missed on an initial read. It was the editor afterward that drew my attention to the piece of text, and despite my suspicions I still missed it when I read it the first time. When I went back to read it though I noticed exactly how subtle Christie has been; it is exceedingly clever writing that’s for sure.
The real success of Christie’s writing is her narrative drive. It is impossible to read this in a slow leisurely manner. I found myself storming through pages and chapters at an alarming rate. I actually read the entire novel in one evening and pretty much in one sitting. Christie gives you just enough information to keep you second guessing yourself but not enough to finally confirm your suspicions, at least, until that memorable reveal: the grand unmasking of her killer. Poirot knew all along; he was just keeping the killer as close as possible for as long as possible, baiting him the entire time.
In the mode of modernism, Christie’s prose is deceptively simple. It pushes ever forward, picking up speed, as it heads towards the climax: a single line of dialogue that has, no doubt, dropped the jaw of many a reader. She also explores the psychological state of her characters and demonstrates awareness of Freud’s theories of psychoanalysis. It allowed her to get way with so much here and Poirot uses it too when he considers the possible murder motives his line of suspects could have.
Overall, a brilliant book. This will not be the last Agatha Christie novel I read. ...more
Agatha Christie wrote some tantalising crime thrillers back in her day, and here Andrew Wilson makes her a victim to a plot not unlike one of her own.Agatha Christie wrote some tantalising crime thrillers back in her day, and here Andrew Wilson makes her a victim to a plot not unlike one of her own. It's all about the mystery, and it really drives the story forward. Agatha is ambushed by a strange man at the train station; she is given a proposition that confuses her and secretly intrigues her. Indeed, for this man wants her to commit a murder.
Writing about murder is one thing, actually committing it yourself is another thing altogether. She becomes torn between her morals and her family. For this man has a powerful hold on her; he knows exactly who she is, where she lives and how to hurt those she loves. He is an imposing figure, an authoritative man who is commanding and uncompromising. He will use violence against her too, and quickly reveals himself to be a trusted doctor. He's a worthy foe, and he wants her to disappear, so she has a lot to deal with.
Despite giving the appearance of being utterly unprepared to deal with such an assault, Agatha is not without her own guile. She's extraordinarily clever; she knows how the criminal mind works and can easily see where she is being lead. She also has experience with poison. She learnt the basics of it to make her writing more informed. She seems conservative and ordinary, which, in part, becomes her greatest weapon because she has just been drastically underestimated. She's written about men like this herself; she knows what to expect from them and has some ideas of her own for dealing with them. So a deadly game begins, one I found tense and intriguing.
A police body hunt also commences, as Agatha is considered dead by the officer in charge of her disappearance. The story becomes a speculative narrative, a possible and entertaining explanation of what could have happened when she did actually go missing in real life in December 1926. She was gone for ten whole days, and nobody really knows what happened. She would never speak of it herself, so all we have is speculation. Wilson also digs into the unexplainable death of a young reporter assigned with researching the case, providing a tense and detailed plot about what connected all these people together. Historically speaking, there are many lingering questions about what happened to Agatha during these ten days. This novel provides a conspiracy theory, a massive what if that seems eerily possible. We will never have our answers, but what Wilson provides are some clever fictional ones.
I've not read any of Agatha Christie's actual novels, but after reading this I want to. Wilson drew upon many of the themes and characters. As our cunning doctor here recognises, he's a caricature of one of her most famous villains: Doctor Sheppard. He became obsessed with Agatha Christie's writing and tried to relive parts of it, that much so he tried to take control of her life. So this is highly recommended for fans of Christie or for those who just enjoy a good crime novel. It's out in July!
-I received an arc of this book from The Bookbag in exchange for an honest review....more
When you get out of bed in the morning and get ready before the mirror what do you see? Is it yourself? Is it the flesh and blood staring back at you When you get out of bed in the morning and get ready before the mirror what do you see? Is it yourself? Is it the flesh and blood staring back at you that defines who you are? Or is it something else? Is it your consciousness and by extension your soul that is the essence of you?
It’s not hard to answer these questions, but in a world in which human consciousness can be uploaded and downloaded from a computer, and transferred to another host, the response becomes more difficult to consider. At the moment of death we cease to exist in the physical sense, but if we can retain that mind, that sentience, then we can live forever in the hard drive of a computer. But what is truly left of the original individual? Are there emotions left in the technological cage that harbours the remnants of a being? It’s hard to imagine it, but for these post-mortems they want nothing more than a taste of real life; they can no longer breathe, eat or sleep: they want to feel again.
Enter the Husks
Husks are the hosts of a stored mind. They rent their bodies in an ultimate form of prostitution in which the dead can have a ride for a few days. Rhodes has been doing this for quite a while. Money is tight so he needed a solid income even if it meant someone else had control of his body. He is a man who simply has to survive in world in which society is falling apart. If you can’t find a way to make any money, then you are utterly screwed. So he could quite possibly star in his own special episode of “The World’s Most Dangerous Jobs.”
At times the writing reminded me of the movie “Crank” – in which Jason Stratham runs around trying to prevent his heart from exploding if it beats to slow. This just felt that fast. The adrenaline was pumped up by lots of drugs, sex and violence as the post-mortem rode Rhodes (an interesting phrase!) to near obliteration. Some have little care for the wares they are renting, and use them and use them without any though of the cost. And perhaps this is the point. There no longer is any cost for them, and some may have motives beyond that of technological immortality.
This could only ever end badly.
Rhodes gets a rather interesting client, one who leaves him with some rather nasty dreams. The psychological trauma begins and worsens as the novel rushes towards its conclusion. Things go from bad to worse to damn right crazy. I had to read the last chapter again after finishing, and then the ones that came before it after that to see if I could notice the subtlety. I’m saying no more other than that the ending brought all the questions together in a final burst of surprising action. This one was excitement throughout, never a dull moment; it's a good thrilling read.
-The author sent me this copy in exchange for an honest review. (I just love it when that happens!) ...more
We all know what it’s like to anticipate something so much that we are literally shaking with excitement. Shardlake had similar feelings about meetingWe all know what it’s like to anticipate something so much that we are literally shaking with excitement. Shardlake had similar feelings about meeting his king; he couldn’t wait to behold the presence of King Henry VIII. Except when that moment finally comes it almost breaks Shardlake in two.
What does the obese tyrant do to cause such a reaction?
[image]
Well he publicly humiliates Shardlake by mocking his appearance because clearly the king is the very essence of physical perfection, clearly he is not beyond such vain fuelled low blows as Shardlake presumed:
"See the other lawyer by his side, the one that dropped his cap! I know he is a southron, see what a poor bent bottled spider he appears”
This may not seem like an overly terrible thing, but if you lived your entire life with such a strong insecurity, and then to have that same insecurity picked on by your king, it's like being struck with an iron fist. Shardlake does nothing but internalise such a comment making his self-esteem even lower. The comment almost makes him forget about his new mission, one that is rather mundane, but the plot picks up when a murder occurs in the king’s camp. Shardlake can then do what he does best.
He begins to investigate and finds some rather intriguing papers full of mystery and danger. Several attempts are made upon his own life in order to insure the secrets remain hidden. They smell of betrayal and dynastical forgery; they suggest that the current Tudor line is completely invalid due to Henry’s maternal grandfather (Edward IV) being a bastard born of a low born archer rather than the offspring of Richard Duke of York. Such material is politically sensitive to say the least. Shardlake begins to regret even finding such papers. He wants nothing to do with such intrigue. And who can blame him? This is dirty stuff. He wants no more of the King’s ire. But somehow he knows this is linked to the original murder.
So the two separate cases begin to intertwine and overlap. He questions, question and questions some more to get his answers. And, as ever, the plot becomes rather intense. The mystery is made dense by so many political schemers and conniving courtiers out to serve their own interests. There are so many leads, so many trails to follow. The hard part is decided what is relevant and what is irrelevant hearsay. But this is no chap murder mystery. The plot is lavishly detailed and perfectly drawn out. This is the best Shardlake book so far, as Sansom balances historical intrigue with detail and excitement. This series just gets better and better.
“On the contrary, it is never too late to, as you put it, pick up the scent”
Indeed, it most certainly isn’t. This book wasMy favourite Ishiguro!
“On the contrary, it is never too late to, as you put it, pick up the scent”
Indeed, it most certainly isn’t. This book was so, so, deep. I feel like my emotions have been stretched to breaking point when reading. If you’ve not ready any of Ishiguro’s novels before, then don’t be deceived, this is no mere crime novel: this is an exploration of the human soul.
Ishiguro has written such a powerful novel here. In the process of questioning the fleeting nature of the past, the fickleness of the human mind, he shows us that memories are just memories: they can never be recreated or relived. They’ve gone. Despite what human will would try to dictate, it can’t ever be changed; it will always remain in the past; it’s finished with. The same is very true for human character: the person you will be in twenty years is not the same as the person you are today. Time changes all, even memories. The power of Ishiguro’s words resides in his evocation of a longing to return to the past, and the futility of it.
“Your farther never arrived at the office this morning. But, I’m sure there is a perfectly simple explanation”
Some novels just speak so clearly to you on a personal level, and this one shook me to the core. Christopher Bank’s story transcends that of the mere plot, and his quest to find his parents. The details aren’t important. These are simple vessels for Ishiguro to capture his meaning. Banks has become a celebrated detective, but his haunted by his memories of his childhood. So, eventually, he acts on them, and tries to return to a time long past; he finds everything has changed, and he, himself, has changed along with everyone he once knew: the past is dead. It only lives in his mind.
The structure of the novel accentuated this. The narrative continuously shifted time perspectives, which suggested Bank’s longing to return to his home. He tells the story of his childhood, in parts, in a fragmented and sporadic narrative. The need to return builds up slowly, inside him, until there is no other possible avenue of pursuit. It’s simply what he must do to carry on living. Life is never that straightforward though. You cannot so easily pick up the tatters of an old life; they are discarded much more easily. Time changes all, and war is just another catalyst in a dark world.
[image]
Ishiguro is an excellent writer. I bought a copy of each and every book he has written after reading this. I simply must work my way through them all. This is not a genre of fiction I don’t normally like; I tend to avoid modern literary fiction like the plague. Perhaps that should change. I hope all of Ishiguro’s novels are as good as this and the The Remains of the Day because I just may have found an author to add to my favourites list. I’ll be reading Never Let Me Go later this year....more
This was intense, passionate and completely gripping. The power of the narrative is entirely enthralling. Caleb has a story to tell and he beckons youThis was intense, passionate and completely gripping. The power of the narrative is entirely enthralling. Caleb has a story to tell and he beckons you to heed his words. I’ve heeded them myself three times because this was just that good. This novel is entirely underrated on this website, and drastically overlooked. But most literature of the Romantic era tends to be outside academic studies. Such a shame, this has just as much literary merit as any Victorian novel. I sincerely recommend that you go read it. Here’s how it begins:
My life has for several years been a theatre of calamity. I have been a mark for the vigilance of tyranny, and I could not escape. My fairest prospects have been blasted. My enemy has shown himself inaccessible to entreaties, and untired in persecution. My fame, as well as my happiness, has become his victim. Every one, as far as my story has been known, has refused to assist me in my distress, and has execrated my name. I have not deserved this treatment. My own conscience witnesses in behalf of that innocence, my pretensions to which are regarded in the world as incredible. There is now, however, little hope that I shall escape from the toils that universally beset me. I am incited to the penning of these memoirs only by a desire to divert my mind from the deplorableness of my situation, and a faint idea that posterity may by their means be induced to render me a justice which my contemporaries refuse. My story will, at least, appear to have that consistency which is seldom attendant but upon truth.
[image]
Godwin displays a message, an obvious one but the display of tyranny is where the importance of this novel is at. Power resides with the upper-classes of society. This is nothing new. The rich can do what they like to the lower classes. In the early nineteenth century the powerful could exploit the legal system, and get away with their own personal transgressions whilst the working man is sacrificed for someone else’s passion. Nothing could stop them; they had the money and the reputation to control the whole legal system and wield it to their own personal advantage.
And this is exactly what Mr Falkland does to the young and impressionable Caleb. Mr Falkland is described by the narrator in very idealistic terms; he is considered as a superior being, a man of force, worth and absolute morale dignity. The young Caleb has an undying curiosity to discover what animates this man, and in doing so gain his confidence. There is a sense of hero worship in which Falkland is the object of Caleb’s admiration: “I love you more than I can express. I worship you as a being of a superior nature.” He admires this man profusely, and considers him a being of chivalry that raised him up to a respectable position within his household. He becomes his role-model. So what comes next is a real kick in the teeth.
Caleb discovers Falkland’s dark secret, his murder of a fellow member of the gentry. Curiosity defeated Caleb’s intellect. Despite warnings he continued to hound Falkland until he gave up his heart’s darkest passion. When Caleb gains the confidence of Falkland the descriptions are passionate and revealing. Caleb has an emotional reaction, one suggestive of joy taken through intimacy; he says “my blood boiled within me. I was conscious to a kind of rapture for which I could not account.” Rather than be revolted by Falkland’s deed, Caleb is pleased that he would share such an intimate thing with him, and realises “it was possible to love a murderer” because Falkland to him is the idealised man. The homoerotic language suggests how the double has become an object of desire.
[image]
Then here comes the absolutely shattering reversal. This object of desire, this double, becomes a force of domination and persecution. Falkland has an uncanny knack for appearing at the worse times. The motif of surveillance is constantly used as Caleb’s paranoia sets in; he cannot escape. Falkland observes Caleb in the garden in a haunting manner; it has suggestions of the gothic. The idolism turns into a haunting in which Caleb cannot escape from the object of his original desire. Falkland attempts to control his actions in which he remarks “you have sold yourself […] but can never share my affection.” One sided love never ends well, and Caleb becomes the victim to a man who is too afraid to let him out of his sight.
Thus, the persecution begins. This has elements of a thriller novel. The narrative drive was immense. The writing was superb in this regard. It is full of passion and energy. It is easy to judge Falkland, but his dark deed was that of an anti-hero. He murdered for justice, his wife was killed by the actions of his victim. So his one dark deed shadows over the rest of his life, which is most compelling because previously he had been nothing but a chivalrous hero. He becomes a figure for division: he is both pitiable and hateable. He is a good man corrupted by his limitless power.
The whole novel is a comment on the absurd nature of society; it is a suggestion that powerless men like Caleb are abused and sacrificed on a regular basis, in doing so the gentry can maintain their dignity and position. Moreover, it is also a suggestion of how corruptible man is. If one such as Falkland can fall, then no one is immune from the flaws of the system. We all have to answer to someone in this life; otherwise, we can do anything. This is a powerful critique of mankind; it is a remarkable novel, one that I couldn’t recommend more highly.
Postscript- It’s also quite interesting to see the effects of this on Mary Shelley, Godwin’s daughter and author of Frankenstein....more
I have no idea what this book is about. Nobody does. The narrative is so dense that it is impossible to make a solid interpretation of the events, butI have no idea what this book is about. Nobody does. The narrative is so dense that it is impossible to make a solid interpretation of the events, but I shall try. I shall try to tell you why this book is so utterly excellent.
Perhaps the most obvious interpretation to start with is the religious angle. Robert, our sinner, has been claimed by Satan. The prince of destruction dominates his mind and controls his actions. The novel can be read as a didactical message about the dangers of a sinful mind. That’s all there in the text, but it is only the beginning. Robert opened the doors when he accepted the Calvinist principle of predestination; he believes himself to be one of God’s elect. He already has a free ticket into to heaven, so whatever he does on earth doesn’t matter. History has already been written: his soul has already been saved.
Now this is a terribly dangerous mind-set. It means that Robert has absolutely no one to answer to on this earth. It can be his playground. Mortal consequences are trivial when compared to the immortal salvation his soul will receive. So why not have some fun? You might be punished, but that doesn’t matter. God has already saved you since the start of time. You can manipulate, murder and steal, and it just doesn’t matter. Again, perhaps Hogg is demonstrating the dangers of such a situation. We all need someone, or some authority, to answer to and to guide us; otherwise, we can create our own sense of twisted rules and live in the darkness.
[image]
Then there are the elements of the double to consider. Gill-Martin, our Satan, may just be an element of Robert’s mind; he may represent the division within his tormented soul, a soul torn by religious doctrine and his carnal nature. His predestination allows him to let loose. His dark impulses take over in the form of his double mind-set. Sure, there is plenty to suggest that he has a physical presence within the novel, but there is also the fact that this text was written by an unreliable narrator. Robert is the author of his confessions, so there is a degree of bias in everything he says. He often represents things in the way that Gill-Martin, Satan or the dark element of split consciousness, tells him to. How far can we give his narrative any credence?
Satan, the double, the mysterious Gill, can also been seen as a physical representation of sin and temptation. The figure is also a shapeshifter-if it wasn’t already complicated enough- and in his earliest form he captures Robert’s ambition. This is the form of McGill his nemesis at school. I’d argue that Robert has been persecuted by this figure, whatever he actually is, all his life. He tempts Robert into self-improvement, and coerces him into adapting any means at his disposal to remain top of the class. The young Robert lies, cheats and steals to watch his rival fall. This is the beginning of his enthrallment.
Later when this figure appears, he becomes an object of lust:
As I thus wended my way, I beheld a young man of a mysterious appearance coming towards me. I tried to shun him, being bent on my own contemplations; but he cast himself in my way, so that I could not well avoid him; and, more than that, I felt a sort of invisible power that drew me towards him, something like the force of enchantment, which I could not resist.
[image]
He is stunned by this man, by this otherworldly creature. The homoerotic language suggests more than a simple admiration. He becomes this creature’s creature. Robert also makes it very clear early in the narrative that he doesn’t like women. He has no time for them because, ironically, according to him, they turn men into sinners. He prefers this princely being. When Robert first sees the figure of Gil-Martin he remarks he was held by “the force of enchantment” in which he cannot resist the power of this mysterious man. He becomes enamoured by this being, which completely transfixes him. He is frequently referred to as an object of fascination and his words are enthralling and persuasive to Robert. He begins take on the traits of this character, that much so that his mother remarks that his countenance has changed after their meetings: he has been dominated.
As we approached each other, our eyes met and I can never describe the strange sensations that thrilled through my whole frame at that impressive moment; a moment to me fraught with the most tremendous consequences; the beginning of a series of adventures which has puzzled myself, and will puzzle the world when I am no more in it.
The homoerotic language used to describe Gil-Martin is suggestive of an idealised man. The double takes on Robert’s own form, and can be read as an unconscious projection of what he would like to be. This man eventually comes to absorb his personality, and removes any sense of morale awareness Robert had. Robert’s double is an object of desire, which suggest an unconscious drive to engage in the acts of depravity they carry out. This can be read as a man who is haunted by homosexual lust, or the idea of betterment, as his double takes on the form of his secret desire. Incidentally, The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde drew heavily on this, and it can also be read in a very similar way.
“We are all subjected to two distinct natures in the same person. I myself have suffered grievously in that way.”
There’s just no definitive way to read this. Every interpretation has its own set of problems and leads to another interpretation. Eventually, Robert comes to believe in the evil of Gil-Martin and sets about printing the “Private Memoirs.” Gil- Martin, however, pursues and torments Robert, and eventually, Robert allegedly takes his own life. But how much of this can we trust? What happened in the end? Is it all one man’s imagination? Or is it something more?
I’ll never know. A good book stays with you; it becomes part of you as you perpetually ponder its mysteries whilst it lingers on your mind. This book will always haunt me because I will never have a conclusive answer as to what it is actually about. Hogg has created a story that is bizarre, intriguing and rather mystifying. As a result, it is completely excellent....more
Poe writes like a man obsessed. His stories linger on recurring fears, and the subsequent deaths caused by paranoia. This one felt claustrophobic, likPoe writes like a man obsessed. His stories linger on recurring fears, and the subsequent deaths caused by paranoia. This one felt claustrophobic, like it was enclosed and encased in a veil of darkness and petty revenge. As soon as the characters entered the eerie catacombs it became apparent where this tale was going; it was like a big spoiler: it became obvious that only one would leave alive because that’s Poe for you.
Try to resist his words:
“A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a brief moment I hesitated, I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, and felt satisfied. I reapproached the wall; I replied to the yells of him who clamoured. I re-echoed, I aided, I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamourer grew still.”
[image]
Spoilers coming.
He has a wonderful ways of putting words together, a way that is completely enthralling. I love the way that he writes. His characters are usually really complex too. Poe uses many different reasons to justify murder. Well, at least to the perpetrator. He explains their complex psychology, and the madness that resulted in such a deed. This one, however, appeared rather normal. The narrator is pissed off with Fortuna. He tries to sell Fortuna some cheap knock off wine; it isn’t a cask of Amontillado. He feels like a fool and wants some revenge for some vague reason. By Poe’s standard this is all very mundane. This is a guy who has just ripping of another guy.
As the story progresses it becomes much darker. Montresor is the real case study. He claims that Fortuna has insulted him beyond reason; he has given him a thousand injuries. But there is no such proof to the claim. All we see is one man systematically plan the murder of another. There is no reliability in the claim or the story itself. It’s a killing that is covered up by a vague and weak excuse. Perhaps Montresor invented the insult to give him an excuse to indulge in his dark passion. Perhaps he has gone mad, and has perceived insults that were not there. Either way it ends with one man buried behind a wall, and another perpetual mystery raised by the enigmatic Poe. ...more
There’s just so much going on in here; it’s like one massive explosion of Victorian anxieties.
Indeed, this novel speaks volumes about the time in whiThere’s just so much going on in here; it’s like one massive explosion of Victorian anxieties.
Indeed, this novel speaks volumes about the time in which it was written; it’s a late Victorian novel, and is deeply rooted in the genre of the Imperial Gothic. So, that means it was written when the empire was in its golden age, the effects of the “golden glow” of mid Victorianism lingered on. The economy was booming, British Imperialism was at its apex, but the Empire’s security was a constant doubt as fear began to permeate the high levels of success. Fear of a fall, fear that the colonised would fight back, fear of the new woman’s effect on the patriarchy and a fear that the Empire would degenerate and devolve. And this can be seen with the uncanny Gothic elements associated with the colonised other.
For me, this quote brings everything together:
“The terrible She had evidently made up her mind to go to England, and it made me absolutely shudder to think what would be the result of her arrival there. What her powers were I knew, and I could not doubt but that she would exercise them to the full. It might be possible to control her for a while, but her proud, ambitious spirit would be certain to break loose and avenge itself for the long centuries of its solitude. She would, if necessary, and if the power of her beauty did not unaided prove equal to the occasion, blast her way to any end she set before her, and, as she could not die, and for aught I knew could not even be killed, what was there to stop her? In the end she would, I had little doubt, assume absolute rule over the British dominions, and probably over the whole earth.”
[image]
Oh my, this is such a massively underrated novel. Stick with me; I’ve got a lot to say about this book’s brilliance. There will be spoilers a head.
Firstly, the quote confirms Victorian fears of the colonised fighting back. Ayesha (She) is in the heart of Africa in the midst of colonial rule. As with Stoker’s Dracula, the foreigner is associated with fear inducing Gothic elements. Ayesha is a supernatural being; Ayesha is immortal and has spent most of her existence in a dark and oppressive temple that lingers with the echoes of the dead; she exists almost exclusively in this gloomy sepulchre of decay and ruin. Indeed, it’s like she has been buried alive, hidden and forgotten by the world in her dark and ancient tomb; she has become an object of the uncanny and is suggestive of Freud’s idea of “the false semblance of the dead.”
The civilisation Ayesha is representing is one that is the exact opposite to Western life. Holly narrates it at as a land of barbarism, sacrifice and cannibalism: it is a land of the dark savage opposed to the supposed land of the rational west. Haggard creates an image of Africa that has undertones of the gothic, of the unusual, of the monstrous; that much so that it give Holly nightmares caused by “the sepulchral nature” of his surroundings. Ayesha, herself, embodies the threat of Africa as she is the ruler of such a people. This underpins the Victorian anxiety, which is often represented in fin-de-siècle fiction, of the colonised becoming the coloniser and the fall of Imperial rule to such a land.
However, the possible empowerment of the colonised in She is directly associated with gender. Ayesha is a woman. But, she is also a potential conquer, a leader and a Queen. Women are frequently compared to the colonised. Victorian womanhood is arguably a form of colonisation in which the women are forced to accept the culture of the men. The character Ayesha transgresses this; she is suggestive of the “New Woman” in the quote because she refutes the standards of a male dominated world; she even has the potential to supplant an entire patriarchal society with her dreams of Empire. Perhaps Haggard was reluctant to accept this idea (bad, bad Haggard!) as we’ll later see with the novels ending.
“Smaller she grew, and smaller yet, till she was no larger than a baboon.” Her age is brought upon her in one instant; she collapses, and Holly remarks “ here, too, lay the hideous little monkey frame, covered with crinkled yellow parchment, that once had been the glorious She. Alas! it was no hideous dream-it was an awful and unparalleled fact!
[image]
It is no coincidence that at the end of the novel Ayesha undergoes a physical metamorphosis. The novel is post Darwin, The Descent of Man was published in 1871, so the transformation is suggestive of a reversal of evolution. When attempting to renew her immortality, and to urge Holly and Leo to follow in her wake, Aysha reverses the magic: she devolves. When Ayesha, a woman who represents anxieties over a declining Empire, the empowerment of the new woman, and reverse colonisation collapses and devolves, her immortality spent, it brings all these anxieties together, and serves as a symbolic punishment for her transgressions.
Perhaps Haggard was a misogynist, despite depicting an empowered woman, Ayesha is brought down at the end of the novel to a very base state. Regardless of that (not that isn’t an important issue, though Haggard’s notion of womanhood is conflicting) the importance of this work resides in its depiction of Victorian fears, and in its ability to present them so superbly. This is an excellent book for study. I had so much fun reading it....more
You ruined this story for me. Damn you Sherlock! No I’m just kidding. I think you’re great Sherlock Holmes you’re a selfish bastard.
Do you know why?
You ruined this story for me. Damn you Sherlock! No I’m just kidding. I think you’re great really Sherlock. It’s only because of your greatness that this story was weak. But, I did want to enjoy it. I suppose it’s not your fault really, your creator did take Poe’s idea and make it much better. You just came along for the ride.
Okay, so let’s get serious. A lot of writers owe a lot to Edgar Allan Poe. This work helped to define the detective story, this may be so, but other writers certainly made it better. For me, Poe is at his finest when he is entrenched in the world of darkness, horror and the maddening wired. He is a great gothic writer, but I don’t think he is great with detective stories. Well, at least not with this one. These stories may get better, but as for the first in the series, this was rather average. What! Poe average? Yes average. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes makes this look shockingly weak. It begins with a series of murders. The first being a decapitated old woman, I actually laughed out loud when I read this; it just seemed so comical:
“After a thorough investigation of every portion of the house without further discovery, the party made its way into a small yard in the rear of the building, where lay the corpse of the old lady, with her throat so entirely cut that, upon an attempt to raise her, the head fell off.”
See what I mean? Or is it just me?
The detectives have no idea how to approach the case; they are, in essence, rather clueless. They use the same tried and tested method, which means they are reluctant to adapt to new circumstances. This case requires creativity; it requires a little flair and outside thinking. It requires a new, if slightly abstract approach. This is where Dupin comes in. He is the character that inspired Holmes, but for all Homles’ rational deduction, Dupin’s observations felt tentative and obscure. I really think Holmes could teach him a thing or two about detective work. He is creative, and he uses acute perception like Holmes, though his findings just aren’t as clever.
I’m being a little unfair here. Sherlock may be a better character, but Dupin does have determination in a very high degree. He does have a powerful drive to see the job done:
Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair- at least so I judged form his manner, for he made no comments. It was only after the announcement that Le Bon had been imprisoned, that he asked me my opinion regarding the murders.
And that’s exactly what he does; he, in his stoic manner, with the help of the narrator, solves the crime. The end is quite clever, I’ll give it that, but what it really lacks is personality. Dupin is dull, so very dull. He is colourless. Beyond his touchy detective skills there is very little character. Again, I can’t help but compare him to the enigmatic Sherlock. Now that’s a character. Sherlock appears reckless, and sometimes even self-destructive, but the man always knows the outcome before the case has begun. All danger has already been weighed. Doesn’t he just sound more interesting than Dupin?
This did pretty much create an entire genre. That’s an astonishing achievement. But, I still found the story to be a little mundane. For me, it didn’t have any intensity. I had to make myself finish it. Sherlock would chew up Dupin and spit him back out again before he had a chance to even get to the crime scene. As much as it pains me to rate a Poe story two stars, there is nothing else to be done. ...more
I almost always hate parodies of the gothic genre. I love the gothic, so when someone slates it, I slate them. It’s just how these things work. But, tI almost always hate parodies of the gothic genre. I love the gothic, so when someone slates it, I slate them. It’s just how these things work. But, this, this was good. Rather than completely pissing on the genre, Wilde pokes fun at it; he teases it and makes it humorous. He doesn’t make it seem absurd or ridiculous, but a little silly in places. And it’s all it good humour rather than a tasteless satire. This is a great piece of writing.
Moreover, the parody was also directed at London’s higher society perhaps even more so than the gothic suggestions. It’s all to do with self-fulfilling prophecy, and how easy the upper echelon could be lead. Fashion changes with the wind, as does opinion and personality. Well, at least if you exist under the scrutiny of your peers. The current phase is palm reading (cheiromantology) and Lord Arthur embraces it with an open bosom. When he hears his fortune, one which tells of evil deeds in the future, he simply accepts it. He shrugs his shoulders and gets on with the destiny he only just realised he had:
“Murder! That is what the cheiromantist had seen there. Murder! The very night seemed to know it, and the desolate wind to howl it in his ear. The dark corners of the streets were full of it. It grinned at him from the roofs of the house.”
[image]
This raises questions of Sir Arthur’s intellect, his sanity and his obedience, obedience to what he perceives as fate. He doesn’t ever question the situation; he takes it as an actuality: a simple task that he must perform. So he sets out to murder a few of his friends, then when that doesn’t work, he plans to take down a few of his relatives. But he isn’t a very lucky individual. All his plans don’t work, the situations become increasingly comic as the victims manage to escape. Sir Arthur becomes frustrated; the palm reader said to him that he couldn’t marry his fiancé until he’d committed the murder. So he gets desperate.
And the ending, the ending is hilarious. It’s so appropriate and so well-timed. The desperate outburst was just awesome. The story is so fun to read. Arthur’s choices make no sense for society doesn’t make sense either. He just does what he is told and doesn’t really think outside of the box. The wittiness delivered at the end really brought the nature of this story to my attention. It’s such a wonderful spuming of dark humour and perceptive wit. This is my favourite quote:
“Fortunately also, for him, he was no mere dreamer, or idle dilettante. Had he been so, he would have hesitated, like Hamlet, and let irresolution mar his purpose. Life to him meant action, rather than thought. He had the rarest of things, common sense.”
Yes. Oh so clearly, such perfect common sense. What a brilliant man you are Oscar Wilde. I’m going to be reading The Importance of Being Earnest very soon. I’m looking forward to that; it’s on my university module so there’s no escaping it either. Not that I need to escape it. And I think a re-read of The Picture of Dorian Gray is very much overdue.
Penguin Little Black Classic- 59
[image]
The Little Black Classic Collection by penguin looks like it contains lots of hidden gems. I couldn’t help it; they looked so good that I went and bought them all. I shall post a short review after reading each one. No doubt it will take me several months to get through all of them! Hopefully I will find some classic authors, from across the ages, that I may not have come across had I not bought this collection.
Have you ever stopped, for just a moment, and observed the crowd you are part of but not fully a member of? We’re all isolated from each other when inHave you ever stopped, for just a moment, and observed the crowd you are part of but not fully a member of? We’re all isolated from each other when in a mass crowd of people; there’s not really any connectedness with other people. By observation this idea is felt more strongly; thus, the narrator of this tale carries with him a depth of separation and loneliness. Well, until he finds an unusual face amongst the crowd of supposed pretenders and hypocrites.
So, he follows the face and, you guessed it, observes some more. The man of the crowd exhibits some unusual behaviour but none other than the narrator seems to notice him. He is lost in the busy city of London and his identity is forever obscured; he is just another irrelevant person in a tide of faces. No one knows him, no one cares about him. His oddness is as unnoticeable as everyone else’s. In this, he has the perfect cover for he is a thief that can steal and vanish into the crowd with complete ease. He becomes incognito with no trace of his identity left. Well, except for our perceptive narrator’s observation of him and the other secrets of the crowd.
“There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, and looking them piteously in the eyes — die with despair of heart and convulsion of throat, on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed.”
[image]
This is an interesting idea. I think this story is really relevant in today’s ever rising population and increasing modernisation. For me, this story questions individuality. If a person can be lost in a sea of people, then are we all the same? Are we all a member of Poe’s metaphorical crowd? I think it’s also suggestive of what horrors may lurk within the crowd, and how easily it can become hidden. Through this story I think Poe’s is suggesting that amongst the depths of people can come easily disguisable, and unnoticeable, evil. It’s a great story. ...more
After around fifty pages or so of reading this I was incredibly disappointed. I’d found out what Lady Audley’s secret was. I didn’t really want to reaAfter around fifty pages or so of reading this I was incredibly disappointed. I’d found out what Lady Audley’s secret was. I didn’t really want to read any further. But, that’s what I was meant to think. Her actual secret isn’t revealed to the very end. And, I must say, I was rather surprised. I didn't see it coming.
It was quite a shocking discovery. I’d spent the rest of the novel is a state of absolute certainty regarding the secret. I thought it was quite a crap secret to be honest. Well, not entirely crap, but revealed too early within the narrative. It disrupted the narrative drive, I felt like I had nothing new to discover. But, again, that’s because it wasn’t the real secret. It was a red herring meant to throw the reader off. The result of this was a pleasant surprise towards the end, though it also meant that the first third of the novel were incredibly slow, whereas the last parts were intense and utterly gripping. Overall, it was a fairly enjoyable book, but I could not get over my lack of engagement with it in the beginning. Its purposeful obviousness made me want to stop reading, but it did make up for it in the end.
"My intellect is a little way upon the wrong side of that narrow boundary-line between sanity and insanity."
[image]
This is a sensational novel, so it was written with two purposes. The first was to shock its readership and the second was to make money. It has the obvious shock factor. The fact of what Lady Audley has done is incredibly shocking, and her true secret is even more surprising. To a Victorian audience this would have been scandalous. But, I don’t feel that there’s much beyond that. Yes, the plot had its moments, but literature like this needs more than an exciting plot. When I read a book like this I want to have emotions beyond a simple shocking; I want to see and feel the characters. But, I just couldn’t. There was an element of emotional depth missing in this.
I did like the detective aspects. They became quite thrilling. The exploration of the meaning of sanity was the most memorable thing of the novel. It follows the idea that it can be internalised and self-created. In the circumstance this was quite horrendous, but it was also an appropriate reaction. The Victorians didn’t understand what could, and what could not, be inherited from our parents; thus, this character has practically devised their own fate through their pitiful ignorance.
The stand offs between Robert Audley and Lady Audley were very tense. I was expecting to see something explosive happen after them:
“You seem to have quite a taste for discussing these horrible subjects," she said, rather scornfully; "you ought to have been a detective police officer."
"I sometimes think I should have been a good one."
"Why?"
"Because I am patient.”
[image]
Well he has good reason to be..........(I'm saying no more)
There was also the separate issue that my university insisted that we read it in periodical segments. We were to read a few chapters each week. I found this quite difficult. I read a lot of different books. So, to have a massive break like that between chapters meant that I’d actually forgotten most of what happened the week before. I had to rely on plot summaries to remind myself of what actually had happened in the book. I seriously recommend avoiding this. Whilst it may be quaint to read it in the same manner of the Victorians, I know for a fact that it hindered my appreciation of the novel.
I’ve tried to be deliberately cryptic in my review. This book relies on its shock factor, and I didn’t want to give anything away with a plot summary; it would spoil it. This was a thrilling read, the detective elements and the shock factors made it quite exciting, but I think this was mainly the case in the second volume. The third volume was very tense; however, the first volume felt very, very, flat. I did enjoy this, but I have no interest in reading anything else by this author. ...more
This is my first Discworld novel and it may be my last. Well, at least for a long while. Previously I’ve read Pratchett’s Nation, which I really enjoyThis is my first Discworld novel and it may be my last. Well, at least for a long while. Previously I’ve read Pratchett’s Nation, which I really enjoyed. This, however, just didn’t do it for me. It is overflowing with so much humour that I thought it was too obvious and, at times, redundant. I did like the protagonist when I began reading, but towards the end I well and truly had had enough of him.
The protagonist is very annoying
I understand that the main crux of the character is the reason I found him frustrating. He is, in essence, a workaholic. There’s nothing wrong with this, I’m one too. But, it bordered on ridiculous. Perhaps that’s the point. I just found him a very frustrating, and quite frankly, as flat character. There is nothing beyond him other than his job. He is simply the commander of the city watch no matter wherever he goes or whoever he is with. He goes on holiday, and he is still doing his job. He finds a crime trail, after a game of fisticuffs, and follows it up. No more, no less.
Indeed, he peruses it with relentless enthusiasm that drives his wife mad. But, he doesn’t seem to get anywhere. Well, at least for a long while. The narration seems to wonder off along with the story. I just wasn’t sure where a lot of it was going. I really struggled to get into his investigation, which I do think was because of Pratchett’s writing that continuously seemed to venture away from the point. Perhaps, again, that is the point of what he was doing. But either way it made it really hard for me to follow the plot if this book. A lot of it felt like perpetual ramblings.
Where is he going with this?
Pratchett goes on some awfully long winded tangents in the middle of his writing. I found myself getting quite lost at some points, and I just couldn’t see the relevance of certain points which felt, to me, like a random train of thought shoved into the writing. This made it difficult for me to focus on the main plot of the story. Perhaps its Pratchett’s style that I don’t get on with or perhaps it is this particular novel that overwhelmed me. I really don’t know, but the result of it is that I have no intention of picking up another book by this author in a long, long, time.
Suffice to say, I really didn’t enjoy this book. The lack of chapters also contributed to this. This, of course, is only a minor thing but it did annoy me greatly. I like to finish reading at the end of a chapter, and not in the middle of narrative. I know this may sound silly, but I simple cannot stop reading in the middle of a length of story. I had to read beyond what I normally would to find what I though was an adequate break within the story. I real don’t understand the authorial decision behind the lack of chapters. To my mind it served no purpose, and discouraged me further.
Overall, this book was incredibly frustrating. I didn’t like aspects of Pratchett’s writing or the structure of the book. I do hope in the future, when I eventually pick up another Pratchett book, I don’t have the same reaction because I really want to enjoy another one of his books.
A despondent two stars
P.S If from my review you think I should try a particular Discworld book then, please, don’t hesitate to recommend. I did really want to enjoy this book but couldn’t. If there is a Discworld book you think I’ll get on with, I will try it in time. ...more
Sean Barrs
>
Books:
mystery-crime-and-thrillers
(44)
Loading...
