Review: The Stranger by Albert Camus

Title: The Stranger
Author: Albert Camus
Genre: Literature
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 1942 (as L'Étranger)
Pages: 155

Rating: 7 out of 10

This philosophical piece of French literature opens with the main character, Meursalt, announcing frankly to the reader that his mother is dead. While at the funeral, he seems to find stirring his coffee or observing those in attendance far more interesting than his deceased family member.
The next day, he meets a beautiful girl named Marie, and immediately, a mutual attraction between them flares up. When Marie learns that Meursalt attended his mother's funeral just one day before they were having fun at the movies and in bed, she is slightly put off, but they remain together.
While on the beach one day in French Algeria, Meursalt, feeling mildly annoyed at present circumstances because the sun is in his eyes, takes out a gun and repeatedly shoots an Arab man who is laying on the sand.
He appears surprised that he is actually arrested and now finds himself being shuffled between police stations and lawyer's offices. He does not view his crime as serious, and seems to be puzzled as to why anyone else would.
He is tried for the crime, and given the death sentence.

This book was so interesting to read. Even though it is well known that Camus rejected the popular association he was given with existentialism, I can see how the label stuck to him. The book touches into other areas of philosophy as well, and I liked picking them out as I read.

Meursalt is a fascinating character study. There are a lot of small details in things he says, or thinks, that would probably be very easy to miss. He mentions things so passingly and quickly, never with emphasis or passion, that they appear automatically unimportant. I passed over many of them without thought, but stopped to wonder about them after finishing the book.
Whenever anyone asks or consoles him about his mother's death, Meursalt always feels that he must say "It wasn't my fault," though most of the time this statement is irrelevant.
When he and Marie witness a crime in the streets, Marie urges him to call the police. He declines, because he "doesn't like police."
And what is his connection with sunlight about? It is mentioned a few times earlier in the book, but of course it stands out most memorably in the terrible murder scene, where his main motive actually does seem to be "the sun was in my eyes," as he later testifies in court.
Why would he be so baffled at being arrested for his crime? He seems to be aware that murder in general is morally wrong, but he never sees his own crime as being the same type of thing.
Up until the very end - literally the last few lines - of the book, Meursalt appears to be void of all emotions, simply existing rather than really living, and so he was difficult to figure out.

Even though I knew it was coming, I was still shocked at the murder scene. Not because it was bloody and graphic (it wasn't), but because it was so utterly pointless.
No background story about the Arab man is given, and he had not been involved in the story or with any of the characters beforehand. We know nothing about him, but even so, I found myself wondering what his life was like, if he had a wife or children, and exactly how old he was. Meursalt himself wonders none of these things, acting as if shooting a breathing human being is as unremarkable as casually firing at a random target. His indifference and disregard for human life made me feel all the more sad over the man's death.
I was not expecting the murder scene to be so beautiful, either. For such terrible events, the language and writing Camus used to illustrate the scene was dark and lovely. It has a building rush of momentum and furious eloquence, which feels all the more dramatic compared to the bland preceding chapters.
I thought to myself that it was the first time Meursalt had actually seemed alive.
And indeed, this shock of vivacity is likened by the main character himself to a beginning, as a door. He says of the four shots he fires into the man: "It was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness." (page 59).

During his trial, attorneys pounce on the discovery of Meursalt's detachment from life and common, normal emotions. They paint him as a depraved, cold villain, which greatly sways the severity of his sentence.
Are they right, or has he been misunderstood and twisted into something that he's not? It's hard to say.

Close to the end of the book, as he awaits his execution, a chaplain visits Meursalt's cell and speaks with him about God, urging him to repent and believe. Meursalt rejects in no uncertain terms, and reveals himself to be an atheist (if he must be labeled). Although I didn't find this shocking, readers in the 40's would have found it a bit more controversial. After the rejected chaplain leaves, Meursalt thinks about God and religions and beliefs and life. His pondering was, again, interesting to read.

All in all, this was a fascinating book about a seemingly emotionless man, a senseless murder on an Algerian beach, and about life itself.

Review: Othello by William Shakespeare

Title: Othello
Author: William Shakespeare
Genre: Classics / Plays
First published: 1622

Rating: 7 out of 10

This tragic play by Shakespeare is one that I read as a child, but didn't quite understand. So last night in Barnes & Noble's, I decided to re-read it.

This is the story of a Venetian nobleman named Othello, a Moor from Northern Africa, who made his way from slavery to wealth and power. His sad story and noble character inspire Desdemona, a beautiful young woman, to fall in love with him. The two hastily marry in secret, to the disapproval of many. Othello's personal attendant, a man named Iago, is meanwhile hunting for a way to bring about his master's ruin. Iago feels that Othello promoted another man to a higher position that should have been his, and dwells on a rumor that Othello slept with his wife. For this, he actively and purposefully sets out to usher in Othello's destruction. He plants doubts in Othello's mind about his wife's faithfulness, and goes to great lengths to set up an entire story of her alleged affair.
Though Othello believes his wife to be loyal, he eventually allows the smallest doubt to creep into his mind, which Iago coaxes into certainty with his clever words and twisting of events.
Eventually, Othello decides that he must kill Desdemona and her supposed lover.

This play was, indeed, very tragic and sad. I would even go so far as to say that it is the saddest Shakespeare play I have ever read. For some reason, the idea of a perfect couple being torn apart by an outsider seemed even more horrible than the Romeo and Juliet plot line.

I thought at one point in the story: Poor Othello, poor Desdemona, poor Cassio! Really, all of the characters played out a very unfortunate story, and met an equally unfortunate end, all because of one scheming man.

This man is Iago, who everyone believes to be a loyal, mostly good individual, even if he does have a negative view on women, as is witnessed by his wife and Desdemona.
Iago has heard rumors that Othello slept with his wife, Emilia. He has no proof, and he never tells us where exactly he heard these rumors. In fact, he seems more interested in picturing his wife cheating than actually trying to discover if the rumors are true or not.
With this already in his mind, he takes the advancement of Cassio as the last straw. Cassio is a younger, less experienced man, who has just been promoted in the army. Iago feels that he deserves the job, and that it was wrong of Othello to forget him.
Though he never voices this like his other complaints, Iago also seems to have a racist grudge against Othello, who is black. At the time, serving under a black man would have been unusual and controversial, and Iago makes a few snide remarks in the beginning that pertain to Othello's race, mostly in the form of name-calling.
So Iago does not like Othello.
But he takes it much farther than a simple dislike toward someone. He truly hates the man, he loathes him, he obsesses day and night over how to bring about his ruin. This is not done over just a few days, and nor does Iago simply come up with one plan and go through with it.
Iago's plans are complex and extremely involved, taking enormous effort. Because his plans are so complicated and rely heavily on how others react to them, Iago's plots must adapt constantly, and require much quick-thinking.
Iago has a way with words. Simple everyday acts like greeting someone politely, laughing, walking, or making a new friend are twisted into terrible acts of wickedness by his silver tongue.
Shakespeare uses Iago's character to do what he does best: clever dialogue, which no can do quite like him, still to this day.
An example of this is the scene in which Iago tells Othello to listen to him speak to Cassio (who is supposedly cheating with Desdemona, Othello's wife). Iago asks Cassio about his whore, knowing that Cassio will assume he is referring to Bianca, who actually is a whore and can thus be accurately referred to as one. Iago also knows that Othello, listening, will assume that Iago is referring to Desdemona, who is not a whore, and thus is being insulted. Cassio speaks lightly of her, laughing, just as men normally do when speaking of their latest conquest. However, Othello takes this to mean that Cassio is shameless and thinks that cheating with his master's wife is a joke.
Scenes like this are scattered through-out the play, and if the topic at hand weren't so grave, they would be extremely funny in how witty they are.

Othello is a Moor (meaning that he is from northern Africa) who is honorable, respectful, and logical. He does not seem like a jealous man, and at first is doubtful that Iago can possibly be right about Desdemona's unfaithfulness. However, I believe that even a trusting man married to an angel would have eventually grown suspicious with Iago's tricky words leading him on.
Othello also shows himself, farther on in the story, to be very passionate, which was actually what made Desdemona attracted to him in the first place. Yet another sad little fact: The thing that made her fall in love with her husband is also what ruins their relationship. Othello becomes utterly enraged by the idea of another man touching his wife, and the thought consumes him as he does his best to dismiss it. By the time Iago is done, Othello completely believes the story he has been told, and is driven even to murder.

Cassio, yet another of Iago's victims, is another character whose life is ruined simply by Iago's word choice. One day, he is a handsome, charismatic young ladies man who has just been promoted to a prestigious new title. But the next day, he has been falsely labeled a drunkard and a brawler, is thought to be an adulterer, and has two men scheming out how to murder him.

Iago's third victim would be Desdemona, a pretty young rich girl who fell in love with Othello despite the public opinion that they were an ill match. She risks and endures her father's disownment of her just to be with Othello, only to have her romance torn apart by Iago's lies. The injustice of it all is a sense that is strongly felt through-out the play, particularly in the scenes involving Desdemona, due to her innocence.
Desdemona is completely unaware of the schemes being plotted against her, and the suspicions that her husband is needlessly drawing up about her.
She struck me as naive, angelic, and very sweet. This cherubic character only served to make the audience pity her even more.
At the end, when Othello voices his thoughts about her cheating, she remains devoted to him, a touching and heartbreaking scene.

I think that every single character in this play suffers in some way (mostly in a very large way) due to Iago.
Jealousy is a prominent theme here. Iago is jealous of almost everyone, seeing himself as deserving of whatever pleasures they may have. He uses other men's admiration of Desdemona's beauty to prod them into jealousy over Othello (who is certainly sleeping with her, since he is her husband) or of Cassio (who is allegedly sleeping with her just because Iago says so). Understanding jealousy inside and out and being an apparent expert on the subject, Iago skillfully weaves other men's jealousy into yet another way of getting what he wants.

Though the entire play is about jealousy and cheating, it appears that none of the characters actually ever cheat.
The first woman who is accused of cheating by Iago is his wife, Emilia, but this is presumably not true. No evidence to it being true is ever even hinted at.
The next is, of course, Desdemona, who is unquestionably innocent.

This is a sad play that sets off Shakespeare's style and abilities perfectly. I would recommend it highly.

Review: The Turn of the Screw by Henry James

Title: The Turn of the Screw
Author: Henry James
Genre: Classics / Gothic
First published: 1898

Rating: 9 out of 10

I chose this chilling short story by Henry James as the 2nd of my three annual Halloween Reads for 2012.

It is the story of a young governess who is hired to take care of two orphaned children, Miles and Flora, at a large manor house in the Essex countryside. The children have been handed over to their estranged uncle, who wants little to do with them or any contact with them. The governess whom he hires is more than happy to adopt the two innocent youngsters as her own, and grows to love them dearly. However, she begins to see strange things happening about the house where she now lives, and continually sees a mysterious man and woman lingering about the estate. Both the man and woman have a horrifying, terrible expression and atmosphere to them, and when she describes them to her friend Mrs. Grose, the woman recognizes them instantly. They were lovers who once lived at the house, and they both died a few years ago, though no one knows how. The governess becomes convinced that the ghost couple is after little Flora and Miles, though she can't understand why. The children insist that they do not to see the ghosts, but the governess is convinced that they are lying due to how frightened they appear whenever she questions they about it. The harder that the governess tries to protect her charges, the farther distanced from her they become.

I very much enjoyed this brief, chilly tale, and I loved the antiquated way that it was written, which really gave it a cold, "ghost story" air that more modern writing simply cannot capture.

In the beginning of the story, it didn't occur to me that the governess' ghosts may not be real, but by the middle of the book, I was convinced that they were simply figments of her imagination. However, at the very end, I didn't know what to think.
I love stories that end just when the plot isn't quite closed out yet, leaving the reader to wonder - what happened?
This story was certainly one of those, and I still can't decide if the heroine was crazy, or if the "horrors," as she called them, were really there. Perhaps they were, only they were real flesh and blood people who she wanted to think of as ghosts.

Miles and Flora play their part well as the innocent, helpless little children who are very in need of protection as they drift obliviously toward horrific danger.
Nowadays, every horror movie seems to cast an obligatory child, but when Henry James wrote The Turn of the Screw, such themes weren't yet common.
I especially loved Miles, who is a more filled out character than his younger sister Flora. He is a charming boy, who wants very badly to be "bad," in spite of how good he is. He even stages an event where he goes outdoors at night, and schemes at how to get the governess to witness his little crime, in an attempt to show her how "bad" he is.
However, Miles is also very wise. Even though he never exactly tells his governess anything - he is always frustratingly vague - his little hints at deep, perceptive topics make him even more interesting.

The unnamed main character was a bit annoying, and I felt that she was at times contradictory. She is normally terrified of the ghosts she is seeing (which is understandable), while at other times she speaks of them lightly and does things that make it seem as if she doesn't fear them at all.
Her fierce protection of Miles and Flora was touching, and I couldn't help but wonder what made her care for them so much and so quickly, as if they really are her own family. Was she abandoned as a child? Did she always want children, but never married?

Speaking of speculation - there is much of it to be done within James' short story. There is, of course, the matter of the alleged ghosts. Are they imaginary? Real people mistaken as spirits? Or are they ghosts, after all? I think that everyone will ask these questions, but there are so many more to wondered about, if you look deeper.

For instance, it seems apparent by the end that Miles and Flora are extremely afraid of (or even hateful toward) the governess herself. The governess seems to think that this is because the ghosts are controlling the children's minds, while Mrs. Grose hints that it is because the children have been influenced by an evil presence. But what if the evil presence is actually the governess, and she simply doesn't know it? Perhaps this is a bit too M. Night Shyalman, but could the governess have been a ghost herself?
All of Miles' vague speeches, in which he is always saying things to the governess such as "you know what I mean..." could also be hints of this. Maybe she doesn't know what he means, and they are both talking about completely different things.
In the middle of the story, I even thought that Miles had a schoolboy crush on his guardian, which was what he kept referring to, even though the governess assumed he was speaking about ghosts. If you read their conversation with this possibility in mind, it would actually fit quite well, though toward the end I had mostly dismissed this idea.

All in all, I believe that I will keep wondering about The Turn of the Screw for a long while, and being so short, I know I will re-read it again in hopes of unlocking further clues that may help me solve the mysteries I found there.

This was a great Halloween read, though I would highly recommend it for anytime of the year.

Review: The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan

Title: The Thirty-Nine Steps
Author: John Buchan
Genre: Classics
First published: 1915

Rating: 5 out of 10

Richard Hannay is an engineer who has traveled the world, and now finds himself living in London. He also finds himself bored with life with nothing to do. Conveniently, that very night, a mysterious little man named Scudder appears at his doorstep, and tells him a tale of spies, running from the German secret service, faked suicides, and codes. Hannay agrees to help the man by hiding him in his apartment, but on returning home the next day, he finds Scudder murdered and his home ransacked. After investigating a bit, he finds a black book that belonged to his late house-guest, filled with an illegible code. Knowing this to be what the killers were searching his home for, he assumes that they will be after him next. He also assumes that the London police will find evidence enough to convince everyone that it was he who murdered Scudder. Believing himself to have no choice, he leaps aboard a train to Scotland. He journeys about the countryside on foot, in disguises, on bicycles, and in stolen expensive cars, all the while deciphering the code in Scudder's black book and unraveling the mystery of what is going on around him.

Knowing absolutely nothing of the genre, I was curious to read this book, which even I know is famous for inspiring the spy / thriller genre. Minus the hot girl on our heroe's arm, I certainly could find a lot of similarities to other spy movies I've seen (I have to limit my knowledge to movies, as I haven't read nearly enough books to make comparisons).

This was a lot dryer than what I expected, and there was never any tone of desperation or stress, like I would expect from a man running from two formidable enemies. Even when he is captured, Richard seems to look upon all of the events with a collected, factual state of mind.

This book was very unrealistic - and I know that spy stories always are, but this was different.
Such as, wouldn't it have been better for Richard to disappear in London (where he already was) instead of head for the country? He is always bemoaning the fact that there is nowhere to hide there, while in London, this would certainly not have been the case.
Also, a suspiciously high number of absolute strangers were willing to help, and sometimes take risks for Richard. This was, of course, highly unlikely, but the main character never seemed to see anything odd in it.
Little things like this really took my mind away from the story, and annoyed me. There is a difference between probable (boring) and believable (well written).

At first, this book started off at a racing pace. Within just a few pages, Scudder has appeared at Richard's door, with tales of spies and intrigue, and a few pages later, he is murdered and Richard goes on the run. I absolutely loved it. It was Victorian with a dash of James Bond.
However, after this point, the book got progressively more and more boring up until the very end. The middle is all just about Richard traveling, and besides the stolen cars, most often not in very glamorous or "thrilling" ways. At one point, he is even riding a bicycle.
I actually wondered, after Richard had been traveling for awhile, if the author was tricking us, and the spies didn't exist at all. In fact, I found myself surprised when the spies finally materialized later, and proved themselves to be, indeed, real.

Scudder was the very best part of this book, and I fervently wish that he had lived, and gone traveling with Richard. That would have been interesting, as the man got to know his traveling companion without revealing too much, keeping Richard and the reader in constant suspense.

Though it did not lend itself to the "fleeing" scenes (code here for peaceful bicycle rides in the charming countryside), the British writing was a good combination in the more exciting scenes. Again, the beginning was the best portion of this little book, and though I loved the tone and overall feeling of the writing style, I wouldn't call this a "great book."

Review: Cheri and Last of Cheri by Colette

Title: Cheri / Last of Cheri
Author: Colette
Genre: Classics
Publisher: Penguin Classics
First published: 1920
Pages: 247

Rating: 8 out of 10

This is a combination of two individual books, usually paired together in one volume, which I will review here separately.

The first, Chéri, introduces us to a stunningly beautiful, conceited young man named Frank Peloux, otherwise known as Chéri. At twenty-five, he is having a love affair with the sophisticated Léa de Lonval, a courtesan twice his age. When Chéri must marry a young heiress, Léa reluctantly decides that they must end the relationship. Chéri pretends indifference, but finds himself haunted by the one person he has ever cared about - Léa.

Though the plot a bit was blurry, I found the characters complex and thought provoking, with realistic and interesting characters.

Chéri and Léa's relationship intrigued me. Why does Léa stay with the selfish, arrogant Chéri? Why does a young man who has every young beauty in Paris falling at his feet choose a woman in her late forties as his lover?
As someone in a relationship with someone well over twice my age, I always find age differences fascinating to read about.

Chéri, the main character, was someone who I found myself hating intensely and sympathizing with all at once. He is far from admirable, being closer to evil than good. I was infuriated by his flippant arrogance, his self proclaimed malice and selfishness, and the way that he referred to his wife, Edmée.
Some of the things that he says so shamelessly are truly shocking. One of the first was early on the book, where he tells Léa about his fiancee:

"Oh! She won't be allowed to have a say in anything. She's going to be my wife, isn't she? Let her kiss the sacred ground I tread on, and thank her lucky stars for the privilege. And that will be that."

Surely he is joking! However, as we read further into the story, we see that he was completely serious.
Among his other horrifying statements is that he actually wants Léa to mourn him and die of grief once they are parted.
He is honest, you have to give him that.

However, we see another side of this monster as well. We see that despite his pretense of being cold and unfeeling, he is truly in love with a woman who he cannot have. His fanatic longing and weary outlook on life is realistic, and sharply felt.
Chéri is a well written, complicated mix of hero and villain.

His lover Léa is mentioned constantly, though she is not physically present in very much of the story. She is a mature, sensible woman who took Chéri on as her last affair. And who better than a far younger man with the looks of a Greek god, she asks us?
Léa is fashionable, she is sophisticated, she is regal. I pictured her a woman with an ageless sort of grace that is often more beautiful than a pretty face.
But, as with her young lover, there is another side to her as well.
It does not take the reader very long to figure out that Léa's staged attitude of wanting Chéri for his looks are as false as Chéri's own indifference. She is just as in love with him as he is with her, and is almost surprised to find herself distraught enough to run away from Paris after his marriage.

Then there are other characters that are not quite as memorable, but still very well written. There is the young Edmée, who at first thinks herself lucky to be engaged to the gorgeous Chéri. But she is in fact destined to live an unhappy life with him as her spiteful husband. She was another interesting character - she hates Chéri, and yet she cannot help but love him as well. Her mother and Chéri's mother, Madame Charlotte Peloux, were also well written minor characters.


The only thing that I disliked was a minor quibble. I was annoyed at how Chéri's beauty was constantly being pointed out. I know that that was a large part of his character, but it was a bit aggravating to hear about his perfection from absolutely every character (even himself!). And how exactly can a man's knees be gorgeous?


Now for the second volume, The Last of Chéri. This sequel opens with a changed Chéri. He is somewhere between ten to twenty years older, and in between the two books he was a soldier in the war, and has continued to live an unfulfilled life with his wife Edmée, whom he has never been able to love. He is very much sobered, not quite so carefree and arrogant. And yet, we still see some shocking behavior from him, such as his thoughts of striking Edmée for no apparent reason, or his vindictive dwelling on the knowledge that he knows how to hurt his wife mentally.

Chéri has attempted to forget about Léa, plainly because her memory is too painful, and he would have always wondered what could have been.

Edmée's character is more developed, thought the author never completely lets us into her head like we see into Chéri's. She became far more interesting though - and I was impressed by her. She has coped with her marriage by obeying everything her husband says meekly, while keeping her head and never allowing herself to sink into drama and despair. By the end, I couldn't decide between two possible characters for her. Was she a spineless, stupid girl too scared of her husband to do anything about the relationship? Or had she grown into a strong, enduring woman who was only trying to get through life the best way she knew how? I have a feeling that it was the second one.

And no, Léa is not gone from this book. Like in the first book, she is not physically present except for one scene, but through-out the story, we feel her overwhelming influence. Chéri goes to see her, after years of staying away. I found it a bit sad that he found her now truly old, no longer beautiful, and a dulled woman compared to the bright, sharp spirit she had once been. But, it was inevitable, as she is about sixty now, and has obviously changed in more than just appearance.

The underlying story that follows Chéri's visit was heartbreaking. He has gone through his marriage wishing that he were married to Léa, the love of his life, instead. But their love could never be. They have been born at the wrong times - she is now an old woman, and the Léa that he loves no longer exists.
I didn't like the sad ending, even though there really wouldn't be any other conclusion that would completely fit. It wasn't what I wanted to read right before I closed the book, but I'll admit that it did make sense.

A thoughtful, memorable story.

Review: The Waste Land and Other Poems by T.S. Eliot

Title: The Waste Land and Other Poems
Author: T.S. Eliot
Genre: Poetry
Publisher: Penguin Classics
Published: 1922 (The Waste Land)

Rating - 10 out of 10

T.S. Eliot is a true master with words. His style of dark, depressing prose, gorgeous description, veiled hidden meanings shrouded in mystery, and sharply satiric wit is awing.
While some of my favorite poets have earned my respect for their pretty, delicate writing, T.S. Eliot twists blackness, madness, and desperation into shining beacons of lyrical beauty.
I also love how Eliot so frequently references other literary characters, especially Shakespeare. He also shows echoes of Oscar Wilde, Henry James, Marlowe, Emerson, the Bible, Arthurian Legend, Classical Greek, Shelley, Chopin, and others. These reflected acknowledgments to his heroes influence his writing deeply, and make it seem far more literary and relevant.
The satiric elements are clear and intelligent. I admired his short poem The Hippopotamus, in which he compared the animal to the Roman Catholic Church. Hilarious, biting, and clever. But of course, of course, the true gem in this collection of epics is The Waste Land itself.
One of my favorite poets and thinkers of all time.

Review: Flatland by Edwin Abbott

Title: Flatland
Author: Edwin Abbott
Genre: Literary / Science Fiction
Publisher: Penguin Classics
First Published: 1884
Pages: 103

Rating: 9 out of 10

I ventured into reading this book a bit nervously. I love a good satire, and I love books written in the 1800's, but wasn't sure what to expect from this one in particular.
After all... A novel about - math?

However, I was pleasantly surprised. No, more than that. I was absolutely blown away. I couldn't take my eyes off the pages!

Flatland is one of those atypical novels that at times reads like a historical commentary. Much like Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea or The Silmarillion, it factually and sensibly creates another world so organized and meticulously constructed, the reader feels privileged to a glimpse into some strange, newly discovered world.

Edwin A. Abbott is a genius thinker - not only did he manage to draw for the reader a detailed world (complete with culture, social customs, history, and so on), but it is one that is unparalleled. This book takes the idea of "originality" - not so easy a thing to master - to an entirely new level.
His descriptions of first a two-dimensional world, and then a one-dimensional world, make sense. Not an easy concept to grasp - but Abbott sums it up perfectly. There are even rudimentary drawings scattered through-out the book, in case the reader isn't quite getting it.

The book is split into two parts. I enjoyed Part I the best - it described life in the main character's world of Flatland and two dimensions.
It read as half textbook, half science fiction novel, and had me completely fascinated all of the way. Abbott's writing is precise and careful. Obviously the man was a mathematician. The second part is about the two other dimensions - a one-dimensional world, and a three-dimensional world. Again, the author describes these to the reader very well.

I loved the satire elements to this story, especially concerning gender, class, and narrow-mindedness. "Flatland" is a masterpiece. I wish that the author's other works were not so hard to find.

Review: Pan by Knut Hamsun

Title: Pan
Author: Knut Hamsun
Genre: Literature / Classics
Publisher: Penguin Classics
First published: 1894
Pages: 160

Rating: 7 out of 10

Norwegian author Knut Hamsun has created in Pan a whimsical, nostalgically dream-like story of strange, quaint characters set against a gorgeous forest background.

In 1853 Norway, outside the town of Sirilund, a young man named Glahn lives in a small hut with his faithful dog Aesop. He lives in harmony with nature, and his lonely life suits him perfectly until he meets a bewitching young girl named Edvarda.

I just loved, loved the descriptions of Glahn's forest. Much of the first third or so of the book is full of them - gorgeous prose and beautiful lines. I kept picturing the wood as something like a fairy-tale Rivendell from the Lord of the Rings movies.
I loved these descriptions so much, it elevated the book an entire star. Without them, the book could never have been the same.

Lately, entirely by chance, I have been reading a lot of those unique, "weird" types of books. J.G. Ballard, A Clockwork Orange, etc. And I think that I am coming to see that unique and inventive does not always equal an amazing book - at least not in my opinion, it seems.
Well, this wasn't quite amazing, but I really, really liked it. Fresh, original, and creative.


There were some strange parts, too, that gave this book a quirky side - some good, some bad.
I'm all for living off the land and respecting nature, but Glahn's connection with the forest got so deep sometimes that it was strange. He thinks of a rock as his friend, and at one point he concentrates very hard on a random twig fallen on the forest floor. He pities it so much for having broken off of its tree, he starts to get teary eyed. Wow.

If Glahn is strange, his lover Edvarda is more on the creepy, obsessive side. When first introduced, she seems to be quite shy, so it's a shock (to both the reader and to Glahn himself) when she brazenly kisses him in front of all her friends, and announces that she doesn't want to chase anyone else. Sneaking about outside people's houses at night seems to be a specialty of hers, and she does it more than once. The first time, she admits to Glahn that she was watching his house all night, saying "Yes, it was me. I was near you once more. I am so fond of you." How very creepy.
After a brief obsessive sort of relationship, Edvarda appears to cast Glahn aside, but we are never really sure. She is selfish and extremely jealous, as well as very unpredictable. She appears to have fallen for another man, but by the end I wasn't really sure. I don't think even she was.

Glahn's other lover, Eva, is a good contrast to Edvarda. The similarity in their names convinced me that the author wrote the two women to be separate versions of each other. Like their names, Eva is simpler and more "normal" than Edvarda.

*Spoilers in this paragraph* I absolutely hated that Glahn would shoot Aesop! It was so pointless and cruel, and all just to prove a point to Edvarda! I hated him after that.

All in all, I would probably try Hamsun again even though I disliked this book. I really was very impressed with his enchanting descriptions of the woodlands. Before Hamsun became a successful writer, he led a humble life as a farmer, and you can tell that he knows about the beauty of nature. Lucky for him - it really made the book for me.

Review: Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

Title: Lady Audley's Secret
Author: Mary Elizabeth Braddon
Genre: Classics / Mystery
First published: 1862
Pages: 496

Rating: 7 out of 10

For some reason, I wasn't expecting much out of this classic novel, and it sat on my shelves for more than just a few months. However, once I started reading, I couldn't put Lady Audley's Secret down.

A beautiful young woman named Lucy has recently married Sir Michael Audley, a rich older man, and comes to stay at the prestigious Audley Court Manor. Sir Audley's daughter is jealous of her new rival, but everyone else seems fascinated and delighted at the new little mistress.
But when Sir Michael's nephew Robert and his friend George Talboys come to stay, strange things begin to happen.
Talboys mysteriously disappears one day, and no one seems to have the slightest idea where he has gone.
Robert sets out to find him, but the trail that the mystery leads him down becomes increasingly darker and shocking.

Written in 1862, this book was much more lightly written and easy to get through than other contemporary books of that time, such as the works of the Bronte sisters. I noticed this at once, and I found it very entertaining.

The characters of this book are quite well drawn, and it is, not surprisingly, Lady Audley who is most memorable. She is a perfectly beautiful and charming young woman who would have been, in her time, the ideal lady. That is, from an outsider's point of view. As the story progresses, we see that behind her mask of sweetness, she hides a much darker, terrible nature. Braddon gives us clues of this early on, which are not all that difficult to catch. For example, the unfinished painting of her, in which she is depicted as a "beautiful fiend." It seems that the artist who painted Lucy saw beyond her pretty smile and further into her true nature. It is also mentioned that Lucy does not like happy tunes, but rather "somber and melancholy" music. Despite being extremely interesting, however, I left the story still wanting to see a bit more into Lady Audley's darker side. She is not the main character, but rather the villain, so we do not spend so many scenes with her as the title may suggest. We are able to assume her malicious and twisted thoughts, because we learn of her actions. However, I never really 'felt' these crimes enough.

I loved the character of Robert Audley, who is a smooth and normally quite lazy barrister. He seemed arrogant and irritating in the beginning, and I couldn't help but picture him as an older Malfoy (from the Harry Potter books - their characters follow me no matter what I read!). However, by the end of the book, he had become a very likable character. If a book must have a main character, it would certainly be Robert, and most of the book follows his actions as he searches for his friend. His relentless loyalty to George Talboys was admirable, and the manner in which he deals with his discoveries is thoughtful to his uncle while still seeking justice.

The pacing of this book was well done and made it easy to continue reading. Short chapters were normally left off in cliff-hangers, since the story was first published in serial form.

I loved the chilly Gothic elements to this book, described just as Gothic passages should be - dark, foreboding, mysterious, with just a touch of strange beauty.
The descriptions of the Audley manor were my favorite, and I really got a sense of the setting. What better house for this mystery than a very old, oddly built mansion with secret passageways?

If you are one of those people who loves trying to figure out the outcome of a mystery before the detective does - look no further. You will definitely be able to quickly realize the culprit here, as the author makes it quite obvious.
However, for this particular story, it worked, and never affected my interest in the plot.
Though it is obvious who is responsible for George's disappearance, and why, we are still left wondering about how.
In a way, knowing before Robert does makes the story even more engaging. I felt as if I had seen the end of a movie and now decided to watch the rest of it. I knew what would happen, but I wanted to see how the characters would make the discovery.

This book certainly exceeded my expectations, and I am looking forward to discovering more of Braddon's work.

Recommended!

Review: Wealth by Aristophanes

Title: Wealth / Πλοῦτος
Author: Aristophanes
Genre: Plays / Classics
First performed: 408 B.C.

Rating: 6 out of 10

I have a single-volume collection of Aristophanes' best known plays, and this was the only one I hadn't read yet.

A man named Chremylus, disheartened at all the evil he has found in the world, goes to the temple to ask the god Apollo if it wouldn't be better to just throw his hands up and raise his son as a criminal. The god tells him to walk out of the temple and follow the very first person he sees. That person happens to be Plutus, the god of wealth. However, Chremylus finds the deity as anything but wealthy. The god has been reduced to a beggarly, blind old man. Zeus took away his sight so that he could not tell between good people (who are deserving of riches) and bad people (who aren't).
Chremylus, along with his servant Cario, vows to heal Plutus of his blindness, and sets out on a journey to a divine temple of healing. Along the way, the hag-goddess Poverty interrupts and warns them against returning the god's vision.

I liked this play, and it was typical Aristophanes - fun and quickly paced, with interesting, thought provoking themes underneath.

I liked Poverty's speech against wealth, which touches into economics. She reasons that if there is too much money, rather than make everyone wealthy, it will reduce the value of their riches instead, leaving them just the same. Or, worse, it will deliver an even harder life upon them than they live now. If everyone is rich, who would want to be Chremylus' servant, bringing him wine and running his home? Who would want to learn a difficult, time consuming trade? And without tradesman, where would he ever be able to purchase clothing, tools, ornaments...
She has quite a point. Of course, her logic doesn't go through to Chremylus, who only sees a walking dollar sign with Plutus in his company.

After Plutus' sight is returned to him, there is an immediate influx of money being showered upon everyone in sight. Most are rejoicing of course, but none everyone is so thrilled at the new change of the tides. There was a comical scene with a rich old woman complaining. Her handsome young boyfriend, who had been living off her generosity as long as he continued to call her beautiful, has now left her since he has his own money.
Zeus himself also comes thundering up to the door, shouting that now, no one is giving him any sacrifices at the temple (it is stated beforehand that the only reason anyone really sacrifices to Zeus anyways is to request money).

I liked that the gods seem so integrated with the lives of ordinary people. I love that about Greek literature.
Even though Zeus never actually makes an appearance (just his shouting at the door), no one seems surprised in the least that a powerful divinity is on their doorstep. When Chremylus mentions that it was Apollo who told him to follow Plutus, the money-god exclaims "What, he's involved in this too?"
It just gives you the sense that all the gods know each other, and all the people know all the gods. For some reason, it's appealing to me, as a way of knitting a relatively diverse culture and kingdom together.

I liked this play and will have to seek out some of the last works by Aristophanes that I still haven't read. It always makes me sad to read references to his 'lost plays' in footnotes, that we will never get the chance to read.

Review: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving

Title: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
Author: Washington Irving
Genre: Classics
Publisher: Wildside Press
First published: 1820
Pages: 71

Rating: 5 out of 10

This was my 3rd Halloween Read of 2012.

When pondering what three books to choose for Halloween this year and browsing through some online suggestions, I was almost surprised to realize that I hadn't read The Legend of Sleepy Hollow yet. I saw an animated film adaption as a child, and I know the story, but I hadn't read the actual book.
After requesting it at the library, I was surprised to find how tiny it was. It is actually a short story, and the edition I read just managed to be 71 pages, with the help of large font.

It is the story of a well liked schoolteacher named Ichabod Crane, in a small 1700's New York town. The town is rumored to be haunted, and despite his scholarly outlook on life, Ichabod himself can feel an unnerving presence in Sleepy Hollow. Ichabod falls in love with a beautiful rich girl named Miss Katrina von Tussell, who seems to return his affections. It is all too good to be true, but Ichabod's luck takes an unfortunate turn when he is riding home one night...

Though I am glad that I finally read this well known little short story, I can't say that I was overly impressed.
The book is just too short for the reader to ever get very invested, and the headless horseman (the part that everyone remembers) is only featured on a page or two.
The rest of the plot, which is meant to build up toward the scene of Ichabod fleeing from the horseman in the woods, does not have very much to do with the ending.
I felt that the book was pretty pointless, all in all. There were three plot elements: a) Schoolteacher and pretty rich girl fall in love. b) Jealous fighting man decides to make an enemy of schoolteacher. c) Schoolteacher meets a ghost in the woods at night and is never seen again.
If I hadn't already known the story going into this book, I would have been thinking at the last point: "wait - what?!"
Really, it has nothing to do with the plot before that.

The descriptions of the town were pretty at times, despite Irving's apparent aversion for periods (some sentences lasted an entire page - the first sentence in the book certainly did).

Review: Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe

Title: Moll Flanders
Author: Daniel Defoe
Genre: Classics
Publisher: Penguin Classics
First published: 1722
Pages: 244

Rating: 6 out of 10

Moll Flanders is the tale of an innovative woman who will stoop to the lowest of trades in order to be a "lady." Married five times, Moll is at varying times a thief, a whore, a convict, and a prisoner.

This book was interesting, though not exactly a page turner. Defoe, as is to be expected, is quite fond of rambling on about every little detail, which is accentuated due to a lack of chapters or page breaks.

Few characters are given a name, which can also make the book a bit confusing. Even Moll never reveals her true name, always insisting to the reader that Moll Flanders is just a nick name she is given later in life.
I got more than a few of Moll's many husbands confused at different points, because they were all "him." Eventually everyone just became "that guy" in my mind.

I liked the character of Moll, because she was different, and certainly unique for a book written in Defoe's time. She seems shameless and unscrupulous from the very beginning, which she seems to justify in her mind as a way of survival.
When her friends and comrades in crime are hung, Moll voices no sorrow over their deaths, only fear that she may soon share the same fate.

There is no doubt that Moll is not exactly a blameless character. She uses her beauty to snare potentially rich husbands, and she mentions a few times having children and then they are never mentioned again. In fact, I remember her saying that she had "gotten rid of" her children, or some similar phrasing, by giving them to a friend or family member. She has a few very low moments, such as when she steals a piece of jewelry from a young child, or when she steals a family's things while their house is burning down.

However, there is something likable to Moll, and I would never classify her as one of those hero-villain types.
Perhaps it is how clever and innovative she is, just trying her best to make her way in the world the best that she knows how.
Her schemes becoming increasingly creative as the book progresses, and I loved when she began her disguises - a man, a lady, a beggar, a widow, a foreigner.

Though Moll is always calling herself "wicked" or "sinful," she seems unwilling to fully acknowledge it.
Such as, just after she has stolen something, she says:

"I confess the inhumanity of this action moved me very much, and made me relent exceedingly, and tears stood in my eyes..., but I could never find in my heart to make any restitution."

When Moll is at least caught in her schemes and locked in Newgate Prison, I felt that I knew her for the first time in the story. Defoe's writing style doesn't exactly allow you to become all that close to Moll through out the story, but we feel that we have seen her entire life leading up to this point when at last she is thrown into the jail.

She seems to fear Newgate more than anything, perhaps because it forces her to think of herself as not a great lady, like she always strove to be - but a common criminal.

I loved how even after thrown in jail and sentenced to death, Moll never ceased her scheming, and rather than sink into despair over the verdict, she immediately begins planning a way out of it.

*Mild spoilers in the next paragraph*

The ending surprised me a little, as I had honestly expected Moll to meet as unfortunate an end as the rest of her life reflected. But the ending was, instead, a happy one, and I closed the book smiling.

This is a good character study about a very interesting, notorious woman.

Review: The Red Pony by John Steinbeck

Title: The Red Pony
Author: John Steinbeck
Genre: Classics
Publisher: Penguin Classics
First Published: 1933
Pages: 112

Rating - 4 out of 10

I feel guilty about disliking this book, but I simply couldn't enjoy it. I looked for things to like about it, but I still found this short little book a chore to get through. It's a shame, because Steinbeck is one of my favorite American authors.

This book opens with a young boy living on a modest ranch in California, who is looking forward to the day that he will finally get to ride his fiery chestnut pony. I have heard this book referenced as a children's book, but now that I have read it, I am surprised that anyone could classify it as such. As much as "Black Beauty" or "Misty of Chincoteague" may be cheerful and hopeful, this book is dark and disheartening. Steinbeck puts his characters, especially the little boy, through a lot. The first tragic death happens within the first two chapters, and the trouble is only just beginning.

Every chapter moves on to a new sort of vignette-type plot, almost like a series of short stories. The only interesting character, an old Indian man who randomly wanders onto the ranch, disappears within a few pages.

Perhaps I will re-visit this book one day in hopes of finding more to like about it.

Review: Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Title: Notes from the Underground
Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Genre: Classics
Publisher: Penguin Classics
First published: 1864
Pages: 142

Rating: 6 out of 10

This small yet deeply written book is a haphazard rant of nonsense to some readers, less so if you are familiar with philosophy, Russia, and Dostoevsky himself.
A friend recommended this to me, but warned that I should read up on the content before I actually got around to the book. And so began a brief, yet enlightening, exploration of Nikolai Chernyshevsky, and some brushing up on basic philosophy, sociology, and Russian politics in 1860's. I have to say, all of this background work was indeed very helpful. Perhaps not everyone will be willing to put that much effort into reading one book, but I have to say, you will get a much more rich, comprehensive understanding of this unusual book if you do.

The book is narrated by an unnamed character, who calls himself the "Underground Man." It doesn't take the reader long to see that our anti-hero is pathetic, contradictory, and extremely irritating. He is insufferably arrogant, believing the world to revolve around himself. He laments all of the woe that has befallen him, but we very quickly see that he gets a certain pleasure out of his suffering, or rather, out of people noticing his suffering. His comments on the moans of a man with a tooth-ache, growing louder and louder and increasingly pitiful so that no one could possibly escape noticing his condition, are a perfect example. The narrator actually believes that everyone has nothing better to do than notice and anguish over his every misfortune.

In the second part of the book, the Underground Man is more the focus, instead of his views. He tells us a few stories from his life, which even further bring to life his self-centered character.
There is a officer who, every day, crosses paths with our narrator in the street. Every day, the narrator steps aside to let the officer pass. This is such a very small instance that no one would remember it, or even make any note of it. However, in the narrator's pride, he builds up an entire, involved story about how the officer is slighting him, pretending not to recognize him every day, and thinks day and night about not letting him pass one day. It is built up and built up, until one day, finally, the narrator fails to step aside. The two men bump shoulders, and that is that. I felt confident that the officer never even noticed, and that the entire thing had been in the Underground Man's head, but he says triumphantly "I knew that he was pretending!"

Another similar instances is when the narrator forces some former friends to invite him to a dinner (where he insults all of them and ruins their night), or where he becomes involved with a woman, whom he falls in love with.
We see him destroy any shred of kinship still felt between him and his friends, and we see him destroy all love that the girl may have had for him.

This book is a sputtering, mad, crazy rant of anger and misguided thinking, and yet it is also remarkably well structured. In all of its crazy veering off subject, the random allegories, and the contradictions that the narrator voices over and over, Dostoevsky obviously has a purpose and a vision to his work.

Although it never left me breathlessly racing through pages, this book did occupy my thoughts for awhile after I read it, and the narrator was interesting in how utterly unlikable he was.

If approached with a readiness to look deeper into this book than what is immediately apparent, Notes from Underground is worth the read.

Review: Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare

Title: Antony and Cleopatra
Author: William Shakespeare
Genre: Classics / Plays
First published: 1623

Rating: 7 out of 10

This Shakespeare play tells the famous love story of Marcus Antonius and Cleopatra VII. Their countries, the crumbling kingdom of Egypt and the rising, powerful kingdom of Rome, are at war, and relations are hostile. Despite all this, Antony and Cleopatra, who should have been enemies, are in love. Caesar is beginning to take desperate measures in order to lure Antony back to his homeland, where they need him as a general.

This play contained a lot of interesting motives, with the love story between enemies as the most noticeable, of course. Caesar's many efforts to direct Antony's love back to Rome were also interesting - after the man had slighted him, insulted him, and defied him so many times, Caesar remains hopeful, and continues his attempts to reclaim his best general. Besides being in need of a strong commander for his war, Caesar obviously also loves Antony as a son or brother.
Cleopatra was also interesting, and one of those characters who you can't quite predict (besides knowing the story beforehand, that is). She is at times hard and cool, at other times warm. Cruel and kind, angry and happy. With Antony, her mind and moods change like the wind. I wondered, exasperated at times, how he could possibly put up with her. However, Antony seems to view this as evidence of how passionate Cleopatra is, how unique, and how mysterious she is. Antony is fascinated with her, and would have been no matter what.

Like many hopeless romances that cannot possibly end well, this one doesn't. The scene where Antony flees from battle to follow Cleopatra was a sad one. On one hand, his ultimate, absolute devotion to her was touching. Being a soldier and a warrior was what he had been trained to do for all his life. Undoubtedly, he dreamed of one day being a general. He knows nothing else, and he has worked for nothing else. He will have had men in his charge on other ships, probably friends, perhaps men he grew up with. Yet he leaves them, to follow Cleopatra's ship. It was a terrible choice that had tragic consequences, one that was neither right nor wrong.
Though he does not regret his love for Cleopatra, Antony acknowledges after his desertion from battle that he betrayed his men and himself.

A tragic Shakespearean romance.

Review: The Sorrows of Young Werther by Goethe

Title: The Sorrows of Young Werther
Author: Goethe
Genre: Classics
Publisher: Modern Library
First published: 1774 (as Die Leiden des jungen Werther)
Pages: 176

Rating: 5 out of 10

I couldn't quite bring myself to enjoy this short tragedy by Goethe. It wasn't even 200 pages, but it took me longer than I had been expecting to get through it.

It is the story of a young man in 1700's Germany named Werther. He falls in love with a young woman named Lotte, but she is already engaged to another man. Even after she is married, Werther continues to love her, and they form a friendship, which is both heavenly and torturous to the despairing Werther.

The main thing that I disliked here was that I just wanted Werther to grow up and get over it. Reading the paragraph above, I must admit it is relatively sad, but really now. It doesn't even sound like the plot of a tragedy, just perhaps an unfortunate sub-plot.
Werther sees negativity in everything, and is constantly wishing he was dead and dwelling on suicide and weeping over his letters / journal. I have to admit that sometimes, the idea of a tragic, heartbroken man braving the sorrows of life can be an appealing story in some strange way. But rather than suffer in silence, Werther does so loudly and wants everyone to know it. Rather than gathering strength from his ordeals, he lets them weaken him into a weepy fool. I couldn't like him or feel any sympathy for him.

This book would have been agony if not for Goethe's skillful brilliance. He is, of course, one of the greatest writers of all time, and even in a book I can't particularly say I liked, he still manages to write beautifully and evocatively. His prose is majestically awe inspiring at times, though it does tend to ramble on a bit and sometimes wander and become pointless. I noticed while looking for quotes to collect here that I found plenty of gorgeous paragraphs, but couldn't seem to spot a single sentence or short phrase that caught my eye. And I'm not writing down a whole paragraph on my bookmark.

I wasn't familiar with the story of Sorrows of Young Werther at all coming into it, and as I tend to start imagining possible directions a book could go as I'm reading it, it somehow became set in my mind that Werther should become a poet.
Goethe's beautiful writing is here attributed to his character, since the book is Werther narrating in the form of letters he is writing. So the man's letters prove he can write, and I can certainly imagine him turning his sorrows into great material. He even loves poetry, and is a fan of Ossian (who is mentioned quite a few times).
Just a thought... but of course, Werther does nothing with his trials except dwell upon them in the form of cacophonous sobbing.

I couldn't say I liked this book, or ever came to sympathize with Werther.

Review: The Golden Age by Kenneth Grahame

Title: The Golden Age
Author: Kenneth Grahame
Genre: Classic
First published: 1895
Pages: 196

Rating: 5 out of 10

The Golden Age is narrated by an unnamed boy, possibly meant to be the author himself, as he goes through the "golden years" of his childhood.
With his friends - the dramatic Harold, the shy Charlotte, and Edward, the oldest - he enjoys all the lighthearted, whimsical fun of being young.

The descriptions of the children's games, their outlook on life, their make believe stories, and their favorite fairytales are charming to read about.
I was quite surprised at the writing in this book - it is beautifully done. Written in magical, silvery prose, it was a joy to read.

For example, this passage on music:

"...some notes have all the sea in them, and some cathedral bells; others a woodland joyance and a smell of greenery; in some fauns dance to the merry reed, and even the grace centaurs peep out from their caves. Some bring moonlight, and some the deep crimson of a rose's heart; some are blue, some red, while others will tell of an army with silken standards..."

Also interesting was the classical leaning that this book had. The children are well versed in Latin and Greek, and seem to be quite familiar with Greek mythology and lore.
They call the adults in their lives "Olympians," and are constantly playing games that involve Homer, the Argonauts, or other such figures.

They have their own customs and culture, entirely separate from the adult's world. There are rules - both official ones and unspoken ones - such as the law that no one may feed someone else's rabbit. There are alliances that are broken and then patched back up repeatedly, fads and fashions that waver in and out of style, and special trysts made.

The children's comparison of themselves to the adults is most strongly voiced in the prologue, where the Narrator expresses that adults do things they don't really want to (for example, going to church or to work) even though there is no one there to make them do it. The children only do so because the Olympians make them. They all say that once they are grown up, they won't do anything of the sort.

The childish naivete, which still possesses a sort of simplistic logic, is what governs this story.

Though I liked it, I couldn't actually call this book a great read. Nothing much happens - it seems that Grahame's aim was to transport the reader, or perhaps simply transport himself, back to childhood, and that is all. If there had been more of a storyline, such as exists in Peter Pan, this book could have been perfect.

Review: The Assembly of Women by Aristophanes

Title: The Assembly of Women
Author: Aristophanes
Genre: Classics / Classical Literature / Plays
Origin: 391 B.C.

Rating: 7 out of 10

The Assembly of Women, or, Ἐκκλησιάζουσαι, reminded me very strongly of my favorite Aristophanes, Lysistrata. If you loved that play as much as I did, you will enjoy this one as well.

The first scene starts off with a group of wives in Ancient Athens stealing their husband's clothes and setting off to speak at the male-only Assembly. Their novel ideas, which concern land ownership, equality, and even sex, are met with a mixture of both outraged indignation and curious popularity.

This play was very fun, and I loved the spirited, mischievously intelligent women. I cannot leave out their exaggeratedly slow witted husbands, who were hilarious.

Aristophanes is perhaps the world's first champion of women's rights, and he puts his ideas into comedy very well.

Review: Evelina by Fanny Burney

Title: Evelina
Author: Fanny Burney
Genre: Classic
Publisher: Oxford World's Classics
First published: 1778
Pages: 276

Rating: 5 out of 10

It took me quite awhile to get to this book, but my sister enthusiastically insisted that I read it.

Evelina, which was written in 1778 and influenced the writing of Jane Austen, is the story of a girl who is coming out into society. This book is written in a flouncy, dramatic style. I can't picture this book being quite right any other way, even though the writing never exactly impressed me. It was also written in the form of letters, which allows Evelina (the main character, if you hadn't gathered that already from the title) to narrate in first person. She isn't the only one exchanging letters, either, allowing the author to give voice to other characters besides her heroine. It was unusual, but I didn't exactly care for this aspect of the writing style, either.

Evelina is a dreadfully irritating character. I loathed and wanted to slap her. She was incredibly flighty and timid, and I can't imagine anyone possibly liking her. When she first meets Lord Orville, he seems exceedingly interested in her, though I can't fathom any reason why. She is too shy to speak a word or even look at him, and in the middle of their dance, she runs away, because she is so afraid. Of what? For the rest of the night, she is the essence of bad company, distancing herself from all conversation and running around hiding from everyone.
Evelina is constantly running away from the tiniest of things (which aren't even problems or negative situations) because she is so very frightened. I have to wonder what she would do if presented with an actually frightening situation.

I liked the character of Lord Orville, even though I had to wonder what he could possibly see in our shallow heroine. His jealousy when Evelina is speaking to another man was endearingly funny, even though I couldn't believe how Evelina could be so stupid as to not realize what was going through her admirer's mind.
The other men who seek Evelina's attentions, notably Sir Clement Willoughby and Mr. Loval, are also comical, especially Loval.

The beginning of this book was pretty dry, and so was the middle. The end of the book, which suddenly struck up a flurry of events with mistaken and unknown identities, babies who were switched at birth, and other such things, was entertaining even though it seemed a bit rushed into.

This book was average - it was funny at times, but I couldn't bring myself to enjoy it all that much.

Review: Troilus and Cressida

Title: Troilus and Cressida
Author: William Shakespeare
Genre: Plays / Classics
Written: 1602 (probable)

Rating - 4 out of 10

More than any other author, I never like finding fault with Shakespeare, even though with some imperfect plays of his, it isn't all that difficult. Well, this was one of those plays. It's Shakespeare, yes, but a flawed one.

Troilus and Cressida is about a young man, Troilus, and his lover, Cressida. Set during the Trojan War, among other characters are the recognizable Achilles, Hector, Helen and Paris.
The main character's love story never seems very convincing. Troilus is constantly praising his beloved highly, while another character does his best to convince him of her low morals. And strangely, Troilus and Cressida are rarely in the same room or the same scene together. Most of their supposed "romance" is via them talking or thinking about each other separately.

The character of Cressida is not very built up at all. It takes a few scenes for her to enter the story, and once she does, virtually nothing about her is revealed. One catches fleeting glimpses of a feisty nature, but other than this, all we seem to really know of Cressida is that she is beautiful (and only because this is proclaimed by Troilus over and over). Shakespeare even goes so far as to say that her beauty rivals that of Helen's. I kept waiting for her to come more into focus, yet she never came out of the background. As a result, we have a lone character telling us that he is in love and in the middle of an epic romance, without any evidence of this, not even Cressida herself.

Another thing that I disliked about this play was how much dialogue there was. Yes, I know that plays are all dialogue, but what I mean is, no one ever did anything. All that the characters ever did was talk - and never about anything relevant.
These endless talks are not involved with the book's plot in any major way, save that the Trojan War is its setting, of course. They also seem to lead nowhere, and are simply dry and dull. Characters discuss battle tactics and war strategies, but nothing ever comes of them, making me wonder why they would be included in the first place.

I had never before seen Shakespeare write such dreadfully tedious scenes.
And besides the endless talking, I disliked the ending, in which Cressida is caught being unfaithful by Troilus. After that, she simply disappears altogether! She is not brought back into the story again for the entire book, besides when a letter arrives from her, which still offers little closure.

All in all, I disliked this one. Not recommended unless you want to read through Shakespeare's work in its entirety.