Mrs. Dalloway

I knew nothing about Virginia Woolf save the fame of her name a week ago, and I must admit, after reading what Google pointed to as the easiest to read for Woolf beginners; Mrs. Dalloway, I still don't have a clear  understanding of what she's supposed to represent.

What to say?  The novel is incredibly fluid, changing from one character's point of view to the next's with the theatrical style of a camera swinging in one seamless move.  It's remarkable, really, as you hardly realize it's happening until it has, and your mind has to play catch-up.

The fact that the main characters are elderly came as a shock to me as well.  It so rarely happens, and even less so when it relates to the bourgeois and events like fancy dinner parties.  I must say the fact that my book's cover had a photograph of ladies in their twenties did not help the matter.

I enjoyed the moments shared between Peter and Sally best.  And though I cannot say I was especially pulled by the novel as a whole, the final section was provoking.  I like the draw of the past, and the reality of emotions vs. rationality in fiction because one cannot really experience that of other people in real life.  Life choices...am I right?

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

I have been avoiding Murakami for the past 6-7 years now, ever since I noticed it becoming so prominently featured in American bookstores for that simple fact alone.  Having finally read one now, I can honestly say that the decision I had been making was a stupid one.

It has been a very long time since I have been so engaged in a book.  I felt sincerely sorry as the pages in my right hand grew fewer in number, but yet propelled to continue further and to let the story continue.  Simply speaking, I loved the experience I had with this book.  So much so, that although I have other books to start ready to go, I may just go to the book store and buy more Murakami novels in order to feed this new passion that has been lit within me.

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle is surreal in a way that stands out from other stories that might be compared to it.  Murakami is able to manipulate emotion in a way that I have rarely experienced before in reading: there are parts that are incredibly graphic and grotesque, yet simultaneously warmly enveloping.  In the same way, there are other parts that are beautifully poetic yet cause an emotional discomfort that is hard to describe.

Almost all of Murakami's characters are chatty.  This is another unusual way in which the author builds the novel.  We learn the stories of each character from their own words, simply because they all tend to overshare while getting to the point of something completely off-topic.  As far as I'm concerned, I have never experienced a writing style like this before, and as a writer who struggles with dialogue, I admire it.

My only regret is that the story did not end with a clear wrap-up of the countless number of loose threads presented throughout the book.  In the end, Murakami chose not to approach reason, but somehow it did not offend me in the way that other books do when they leave plot holes unfilled. Like the tentacles of the jellyfish that Toru Okada so feared, all of the questions I had built up remained gently swaying in the dark with ominous mystery.  Somehow, though, it just worked.

Detour: Of Things Gone Astray

I went to the bookstore yesterday with the intent of buying some books from the list, but having only been able to find 2 of the 3 I was seeking, I picked up a new book which I honestly just chose based on looks.

Of Things Gone Astray by Janina Matthewson, in a very one-dimensional view, is written in a generically "new fiction" way that is so common now in artsy hipster-indie fiction.  "Strangers" simultaneously have a traumatic experience happen to them, and their stories become interwoven without their directly knowing it.  It has that very attractive, melancholy tone that I am drawn to, that lends itself to fantasy similar to The Boy Detective Fails by Joe Meno.

The beginning of the book, though enjoyable, honestly did not find me very impressed.  It felt familiarly sugary to me in a way that reminded me of my own writing.  As the story progressed however, certain moments of sweetness and creativity revealed themselves in rather impressive (for lack of a better term) ways.  It is a quiet, emotional book with extremely likable characters.

Personally, it was a good weekend to be reminded that things get lost and found all the time, but life keeps going on.  You must keep living it, you know?

The Brothers Karamazov

It felt like an irrationally long time that it took me to read this book, but having gone back and seen my last post, I see it has only been the duration of 3 months.  Long, yes, but not the eternity it seemed.

I have read Dostoevsky before, albeit in high school, and in comparison, this one felt so much more humorous and playful.  Of course, it may just be that the in my youth I was too inexperienced with literature (not to mention so emo) to understand the subtleties of the writer's wordsmithing, or it may even have been the fault of whatever translator's rendition of Crime and Punishment that I experienced, but the cold and harsh story that I remember in that case is something of a completely different world compared to this edition of The Brothers.  It is important to note here, that this copy in question was translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky whom I have raved about before.

In short, I found it delightful that there could be so much "fun" in a russian murder mystery (for lack of a better term).  It felt a bit like self-deprecation of Dostoevsky's own genre, while also challenging so much of what would be commonplace like religion and devotion (in all respects).  And oh, the drama.  If only we could be so outwardly passionate and yet fickle in our daily lives and fall into fits as often, maybe we would all be a little less uptight.

I must say, I could have done with the speeches being cut to a third of what they were though.  I know, I know, it's Russian literature.  I stand my ground.  Especially when there wasn't a single mention of snow in 776 pages.

The Shining

Is Kubrick just effing up books left and right or what?  Okay, I can't actually speak because I have never watched A Clockwork Orange, but as you saw from my last post, I touched on how he sort of changed the story in the face of the public for that novel as well.  I kind of feel like he doesn't read books at all but rather has a friend who read the book tell him the major points and then creates something from there.

I'd heard somewhere before that Stephen King's The Shining was different from Kubrick's film, but somehow I wasn't really expecting much of a difference.  I pretty much just expected Wendy's hair color to be the only thing that would stray from the movie, but luckily that was not even close to the reality.  I also honestly expected King's writing to be quite bad as most horror/popular fiction writing is, but I was pleasantly surprised in this arena as well.

Let's face it.  No matter how much you love the cult film, a lot of shit in the movie doesn't make any sense.  What the hell is Danny's power exactly, and what is the point of Tony besides to say "redrum" creepily for 3 seconds?  Who are the random ghosts that pretty much do nothing but stand there looking at the family from time to time?  Why is a caretaker even necessary?  I mean, I know Kubrick was being artsy and making social commentary and whatever, but it kind of just feels like a jumble of half-baked "concept" that doesn't really come together.  I'm not even trying to bash on Kubrick either, as I enjoy a lot of his films, but he really did create something completely different and lacking in comparison to the original story (but at least the opening credits scene was pretty magnificent).

The book focuses much more heavily on the characters and their back stories.  There are supernatural aspects to it, yes, but the bulk of what's haunting these characters is mental and touches on their personal guilt and paranoia.  There is a much more cohesive understanding of the characters and why they act the way they do, and it's never just a black and white situation of "hey, this guy goes crazy and just wants to kill his family".  The ghosts even have a story, and there's a fine line between hallucination and supernatural activity that convinces you enough to buy that perhaps the story is not all about a haunted hotel.  You guys, it all freakin' makes sense together, and it's better than I expected.

A Clockwork Orange

I saved this copy of A Clockwork Orange while my boyfriend cleaned out his childhood bedroom, sweeping everything clean into the trash.  It is an American reprint complete with a forward by Burgess complaining about how both previous versions of this novel (and consequently Kubrick's film as well) omitted the 21st chapter, as well as the final chapter in question.

Having read the full book with this 2-sided knowledge, it's clear that the question is not whether one version is better or worse than the other.  What it does, actually, is show you how much of a difference a single chapter can do in a to-the-point way that I have rarely experienced.  Knowing that the story could have ended with Alex being "fixed", and then going on to see his natural train of thought after the fact turns the overarching theme from one of the frights of technology and government, to something around the idea of whether a man can ever change.  It would be interesting to experience this book in all three ways (20 chapters with no knowledge of the last, 21 chapters with no knowledge of America's cutting the story short, and the way I came about it) with a clear slate, though obviously that is impossible.  I guess the only way one could do that would be to concede to technology and get a lobotomy 3 times over.  Seems fitting.

Other notes: gritty, punky, and very violent.  I usually don't like plots like this, and it honestly was rough for me to get through in the beginning, but it redeemed itself.  Also, Burgess is pretty freakin' fun and I quite enjoyed his voice in the Introductory note.  Give it a try (and don't cop out and just watch the film...though I assume it's theatrical and beautiful, being a Kubrick and all that).

147. The Secret History

Donna Tartt dedicates this book to Brett Easton Ellis.  When I opened the first few pages and saw this, I was a little bit exasperated at this fact, and indeed, she has the same tendencies for violence and tragedies that Ellis has.  They also share, I think, the same attraction to creating something beautiful (though they do it in different ways, hers more nostalgic softness while his is bold and neurotic), and unfortunately also the same shortcomings in achieving it.

There is a creepiness that runs through the way it is written, though I don't think it's due to the plot itself but more in the fact that something seems awry in the way Tartt writes.  Her writing wants so badly to be meaningful and emotional, but ultimately feels flat and feels theatrical with an adolescent quality.  For the entirety of the book, I had an unsettling feeling that I had read this book before, as everything I read had a deja vu sense to it.  Having finished it, I still have yet to solve whether I actually have somehow come in contact with this story before, or if it was just the type of story that is too overdone to the point of becoming cliche.  Perhaps this was the main cause of the haunting feeling that followed me through the majority of my read -- a  familiarity of all events, and inability to find surprise in anything.

Not the worst, but not the best either.  But hey, I guess at least her characters were likable.