The Invisible Man

I liked The Time Machine so much that I read another H.G. Wells with high hopes. Unfortunately, my expectations weren't met, and I was disappointed overall. Time Machine was thrilling and fast paced, while this one was irritating and unsatisfying. 

It felt like Wells was trying to pose some questions about morals, humanity, and/or maybe even scientific advancement but I'm not quite sure I grasped which it was specifically. The character that the story revolves around is extremely difficult to sympathize as he throws fits for no apparent reason regardless of his situation and seemingly has no redeemable qualities unless you count his genius. With a lack of real plot, I felt this read dragged on a bit too long, and knowing that it started out as a serial story, it's hard to imagine that it had any devoted followers waiting for the next installment. I did however see a close similarity to the storytelling style that was executed so well in Time Machine  that wasn't as effective here, solely based on the plot and likability of the Griffin.

The Time Machine

I really like this one. It makes you think.

H.G. Wells starts The Time Machine with a lot of fancy language that intimidated me at first, but quickly became a gripping adventure tale that I didn't want to put down or have end. Wells really immerses you into the action, even while--very artfully--breaking the point of view between two narrators. I really don't remember the last time I was as engaged as I was for this (as far as this list is concerned). Even the heartbreakingly lonely death of the Earth is so beautiful in a matter of pages. I want more! I'm actually surprised it didn't turn into a series like Sherlock Holmes, though I'm also glad that it didn't, because it makes it that much better.

It's part social commentary, part allegory, all sci fi fun. I'd very much like to see it as a movie, but I doubt anything would be able to do Wells' impeccable imagery justice. Especially since I just looked up pics from the 1960 version and Weena looks like a normal gorgeous lady. What the literal crap. That is absolutely not the point of this story.

Little Women

When I was little, my relatives from Japan used to send me VHS tapes of kids' shows to watch that they recorded from Japanese TV. One of the shows that I remember watching over and over again was this anime series called "ナンとジョー先生 (Nan and Teacher Jo)".  I realized sometime later that Miss Jo was a character that originated from Little Men (which I see now is a continuation of Little Women), so getting to read this book has a nostalgic place in my heart.

It's clear Jo is supposed to be the favorite in this book (I wonder if she's modeled after Louisa May Alcott herself), but is Amy actually supposed to be the worst? Because she really bothers me (even when she was the spoiled young 5 year old or whatever she was) and I can't get over it. In my eyes, she ruins Laurie. I mean, I'm glad Jo found the guy she's supposed to be with and that she's happy, but it basically did turn Laurie into a worthless piece of garbage. He sounds like an intelligent person when he speaks to Jo, but as soon as he has anything to do with Amy he gets pulled into her imbecility and it's hard to endure.  Call it what you will but it gave me some twisted pleasure that Amy and Laurie's child is weak and might die.

Also, for how much it was stressed that Meg's children were incredibly smart and "advanced", why the hell do they sound so stupid when they talk?

Anyway, if I can get past all that (which I barely can), this is a very warm, genuine story about family love as a joyful and cherished happy place. I prefer the first part to the second with all the ups and downs of teenager/mid 20's that had me longing with fondness on the past, but I suppose that's true to real life and shows Miss Alcott's talents.

Arthur Conan Doyle

Knocking two more books off of the list! I've watched the BBC's Sherlock, so it was interesting to read The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to compare them to their originals.  The true Sherlock Holmes is not a "high-functioning sociopath", but actually a completely friendly gentleman that really values Watson's companionship. At one point, he even showed concern for a lady's safety (gasp).

As for these selections, I suppose they were interesting enough. I don't know whether I prefer short form or long form, but either way, the reveals in both cases always ended up to be underwhelming.  Yes, I understand that these iconic stories have been so overused at this point that it would be practically impossible not to know them, but it's disappointing when you read a story and are able to predict the outcome. Also, Watson and Sherlock are so damn wordy. Did everyone in olden times write multiple page-long prefaces before they got to the urgent point, or was that done to build anticipation for the sake of story? I guess that just goes to show how things have changed and how little attention span people have these days.

Despite those disappointments, I still think they were worth the read. I'm a little sad I didn't get to meet the original Moriarty though, because he really bothers me in the tv show (though I guess that's the point) and it would be nice to see if he's always been that way. Maybe another time.

Margaret Atwood

This is an incredibly delayed post. I finished the first of my last two List books over 2 months ago, and sat on writing about it while a slew of laziness ensued. My computer also died, and I waited to replace it for no reason other than stubbornness for at least a month, at which point I had already started my second Atwood book, which spurred me to wait to report on the first one until that finished. In all honesty I could even have finished the second book weeks ago, but the thought of writing about it haunted me and I dragged finishing off the last 30 or so pages on for weeks. It's a wonder I'm even alive and not 600 pounds, based on how unmotivated I am in all aspects of life.

Anyway.

Having pasted the book cover image in here, I just now realized she's behind bars. I'm so slow. Wow.

So Alias Grace in my opinion, was not as good as A Handmaid's Tale (which is obviously why it's not nearly as famous), but entertaining enough. I'm less attracted to this speculative/fictionalized version of a historical incident that has so many questions attached to it - virtually everything about the murder at the center of the story is in question and shrouded in mystery - than a concrete one such as In Cold Blood, which if you look back, I quite enjoyed. I did, however, find this excerpt from the beginning of chapter 18 particularly funny. Mansplaining through the ages, if you will (and so throughly Atwood):

"Today Dr. Jordan looks more disarranged than usual, and as if he has something on his mind; he does not seem to know quite how to begin. So I continue with my sewing until he's had time to gather himself together, and then he says, Is that a new quilt you're working on, Grace?
                  And I say, Yes it is, Sir, it is a Pandora's Box for Miss Lydia.
                  This puts him in an instructive mood, and I can see he is going to teach me something, which gentlemen are fond of doing."

Bahaha.

As for Cat's Eye, it was quite a change of pace compared to the others. I kept forgetting that it took place in Canada and got confused every time they spoke about America as if it were another country. I guess that shows the similarity between the two. I like it though, because I can relate to it, I think. A lot of Elaine's childhood memories really hit home for me and made me self-aware and uncomfortable while I was reading them. I recognize girls I knew in her friends, and my own insecurities in her's. Her adult life as an artist felt familiar to my college days as well; the way it is created (as something literal and personal), then perceived (as something else), and the community surrounding it. I don't personally have a Cordelia, but I suppose everyone has someone or something haunting them, no matter who they are, and that's what Cordelia is. It's quite a beautifully relatable book.

Less importantly, but still distractingly, the copy I read (Anchor Books) had a lot of typos. You know how much that throws me off, so points off there. Strange, because the others didn't have this problem at all.

Far From the Madding Crowd

I know, I said I was going to read more Atwood but obtaining real books is harder than it used to be. So I got distracted by this free book from the Amazon bookstore (and a 2000 piece puzzle, while we're at it) while I was trying to track down what I really wanted to read. I did make it out to Barnes & Noble eventually though so I will be returning to the scheduled materials as soon as I finish typing this post.

Anyway. Why does everyone say Bathsheba Everdeen is the original feminist? What is strong about her? Just because she owned a farm? Inheriting something of value and then having a bunch of men maintain it for you because they want to kiss you doesn't make you a strong woman. I feel like Anna Karenina is a much better female symbol than Bathsheba is. She's even a bit spineless which makes her downright mean in the end (both to her lovers and to her apparent best friend). Despite that, I don't dislike the heroine. I suppose she's realistic. She's a bit bratty and childish despite what everyone around her thinks, but I guess considering that she's 23-24 and has always lived a charmed life, that's as much as I could expect. I guess it just means I should be thankful that society doesn't die off as easily and that the world (at least the one in which I live) isn't run by such young people anymore.

What did seem modern to me though, was the treatment of mental illness on Boldwood's part. I don't think I've read anything from this time that would be so outright calling it that. But who knows, maybe I don't know what I'm talking about, either.

Anyway, I guess in summation, this book is everything you would expect from its genre. Romance, tragedy, gossip, a beautiful heroine, the countryside. If you're into that, have at it.

The Handmaid's Tale

Alright, I admit it, I read Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale at this point because there is a Hulu version coming out soon.  I don't have a Hulu account, but we'll worry about that later.

I know Atwood is a contemporary writer, but for some reason, I always expect her to be outdated. I remember reading The Blind Assassin back in high school and being surprised at how modern it felt, even though it was written in 2000.  It's probably the artwork on the covers that make me feel that way.  Is she doing it on purpose, do you think?  Anyway, I liked that book back then, though regrettably I don't remember anything about it now.

The dystopian society of The Handmaid's Tale hits hard when considering today's world, but maybe that's just how it always feels in the world concerning women's rights.  It feels important, though, that it's surfacing in popular media now.  Power, gender, race, just generally what humanity does to itself. It's a lot to take in.  And we're all fucked and so is history. Let me just point out though that the Japanese people were totally normal in this alternate universe.

The ending is really interesting and jarring, though I feel like I've ruined the surprise for myself now if I do end up watching the show. It made me think a lot about how history and time works irl, and it felt very strange to suddenly take such a distant speculative step back after being so close to the narrative for so long before that.  Really though, I couldn't have chosen a better line to end with.  "Any questions?". Yes. I have so many. And I love it.

There are a number of Atwood books on this list, and I think I'll indulge. See what this whole feminism thing is about.  Talk soon.

The Stranger/The Outsider

The Translator's Note in the version I was reading claimed that Camus modeled L'Etranger on "the American method" -- as Hemingway and Faulkner had written. Having read Hemingway just before this book, however, I'm happy to say that though monsieur may have pulled the writing style from Americans, his writing remains unequivocally French; with finesse and poetry. I don't care for the writing style of the "Lost Generation". Curt, unemotional, and utterly selfish. There is nothing to relate to or care for. Through Camus' writing though, the short sentence structure and guiltless character came together to create something totally beautiful.

Meursault shows nor feels much emotion when his mother passes away. He refuses to admit that he loves his girlfriend. He doesn't even show remorse for shooting and killing a man. But he still flipping has so much more emotion and complexity than Jake Barnes. Like a real person. I don't know if it's because I watched HBO's "The Night Of" just prior to starting this book, but I kept forgetting that Meursault was actually guilty. It was a skillful trick. When the protagonist realized that he was indeed guilty, so did I, just at the same time. When he hears his final fate, it is just as jarring as if it was announced upon myself -- a serious shock, like my stomach fell to the floor.  I was that invested.

What else can I say?  I'm giving this one to the French.

Tonight, what I trust to be this blog's only reader, whom I unfortunately only speak to a handful of times a year, asked me why I had not written in months.  To this, unfazed, I replied that I was simply a no-good human being that was taking months to finish this minuscule book.  About an hour after this conversation, my power went out for no explicable reason.  It took me 2.5 hours for my phone battery to finally die out, leaving me to wearily pull out this borrowed copy of The Sun Also Rises, which, as mentioned, I have been working on for 2 whole months.  And folks, I did it.  I finally finished it.  It took the literature gods' cutting off my power to force me into action after very nicely trying to push me that way with a very friendly voice, which I promptly ignored, but it happened.

Anyway, back to Hemingway.  Pre Sun, I was a Hemingway virgin.  The only thing I knew about it was that hipsters love him.  I trusted those hipsters.  I trusted them because I, too, like Herschel and Kanken backpacks and gastropubs and irony.  I believed something beautiful or thoughtful would be there waiting for me.  But sadly, now I'm just confused.  It's not that I hated it.  I didn't.  I just don't get why you'd want to sit there and spend so much time with 5 selfish jerks.  Because this book literally was like you were tailing this terrible group of young people on their entitled vacation.  I wish my biggest problem in life was complaining about being poor while using exorbitant amounts of money, being loved too much, and constantly feeling "tight" - while we're at it, someone please explain to me what that means.

There's still plenty of other books on the list by good old Ernest, so I'll still keep an open mind, but...just...why.