Dearest Blatherscopians, the Summer thus far has been unkind to me--Sickness has been the chasm dividing Me from My Best Self (aka, all the crap I've been waiting to do when the weather got better). Like so many dark times in my life, I have been heartened by a glimmer: the light of books. As I have vowed since the time of this blog's inception (nigh on four months), I shall discharge my full Reflections herein.
1) Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh--A wistful, yet unsentimental, remembrance of an Age with which modern Americans have little-to-no shared history: the dwindling life of the English Aristocracy in the days between WWI & II. Waugh's bitingly funny and skilled descriptions of this too-recent time of yore succeed when dealing with Humanity, but due to my ignorance of the aristocracy, I am afraid that I missed many of Waugh's intended reflections upon the workings of Grace in such a family. I found the prose elegantly tight, but the story felt lumpy to me--the dichotomy of narrator Charles' love for brother and sister Sebastien and Julia was misshapen , at times under-emphasized only to come to the fore with staggering zeal, then be shunted off again, barely worth commenting on. In this way, his characters were not so much dynamic as re-written every few chapters.Definitely worth the read, but overall it felt more like a visit to a museum than a transforming experience.
2.) Outlander by Diana Gabaldon--This is Book #1 of a (so-far) 7 book series combining historical romance, adventure, and a hint of sci-fi. And the series is HUGELY popular--Over 1,200 folks have taken the time to give their recommendation of this book on Amazon.com, averaging 4.25 stars. But I'm here to tell You, intelligent Readers, this is horrible shite.
General complaints: cardboard characters whose motives are paper-thin, belabored dialogue (alternating between ridiculously flowery and just plain ridiculous), overly descriptive scene setting that veers away from plot propulsion, and a wasteful (not to mention unbelievable) plot.
Specific complaints: I don't know about You, but I, for one, have a hard time believing that (a) a married WWII nurse sucked backed to mid-1700s Scotland could keep her wits in such a situation, so much so that can "move on" with her life, and four weeks later marry another man, and that (b) despite loving her first husband, she can gleefully abandon herself to her new husband (resulting in--I'm not kidding!--over 200 pages of sexual encounters, just during the honeymoon phase), feeling no twinge of regret or pain or loss, and that (c) this so-called marriage is held up to be the union of two souls in a Grand Passion, particularly when new husband is "forced to discipline" her; she fights, but the book graphically describes him overpowering and beating her, and that (d) this "modern" woman understands that this violence is only the result of the clash of two time-cultures, and so she forgives new husband and a day after the beating they are back in the sack; the plot only gets better from here. Suffice it to say, there's a lot of rape and attempted rape and then "healing" by way of cathartic-reenactment-of rape. Oh, yes.
What the popularity of these books means to society: we are all doomed, and too stupid to realize it. How in the hiz-ell can anyone be attracted to this kind of book as an entertainment, a wishful romance of a different life? WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH WOMEN THAT THEY THINK THIS IS THE HEIGHT OF ROMANCE? I think Natural Selection has some work to do.
1) Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh--A wistful, yet unsentimental, remembrance of an Age with which modern Americans have little-to-no shared history: the dwindling life of the English Aristocracy in the days between WWI & II. Waugh's bitingly funny and skilled descriptions of this too-recent time of yore succeed when dealing with Humanity, but due to my ignorance of the aristocracy, I am afraid that I missed many of Waugh's intended reflections upon the workings of Grace in such a family. I found the prose elegantly tight, but the story felt lumpy to me--the dichotomy of narrator Charles' love for brother and sister Sebastien and Julia was misshapen , at times under-emphasized only to come to the fore with staggering zeal, then be shunted off again, barely worth commenting on. In this way, his characters were not so much dynamic as re-written every few chapters.Definitely worth the read, but overall it felt more like a visit to a museum than a transforming experience.
2.) Outlander by Diana Gabaldon--This is Book #1 of a (so-far) 7 book series combining historical romance, adventure, and a hint of sci-fi. And the series is HUGELY popular--Over 1,200 folks have taken the time to give their recommendation of this book on Amazon.com, averaging 4.25 stars. But I'm here to tell You, intelligent Readers, this is horrible shite.
General complaints: cardboard characters whose motives are paper-thin, belabored dialogue (alternating between ridiculously flowery and just plain ridiculous), overly descriptive scene setting that veers away from plot propulsion, and a wasteful (not to mention unbelievable) plot.
Specific complaints: I don't know about You, but I, for one, have a hard time believing that (a) a married WWII nurse sucked backed to mid-1700s Scotland could keep her wits in such a situation, so much so that can "move on" with her life, and four weeks later marry another man, and that (b) despite loving her first husband, she can gleefully abandon herself to her new husband (resulting in--I'm not kidding!--over 200 pages of sexual encounters, just during the honeymoon phase), feeling no twinge of regret or pain or loss, and that (c) this so-called marriage is held up to be the union of two souls in a Grand Passion, particularly when new husband is "forced to discipline" her; she fights, but the book graphically describes him overpowering and beating her, and that (d) this "modern" woman understands that this violence is only the result of the clash of two time-cultures, and so she forgives new husband and a day after the beating they are back in the sack; the plot only gets better from here. Suffice it to say, there's a lot of rape and attempted rape and then "healing" by way of cathartic-reenactment-of rape. Oh, yes.
What the popularity of these books means to society: we are all doomed, and too stupid to realize it. How in the hiz-ell can anyone be attracted to this kind of book as an entertainment, a wishful romance of a different life? WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH WOMEN THAT THEY THINK THIS IS THE HEIGHT OF ROMANCE? I think Natural Selection has some work to do.
2 comments:
you mean beaten into submission isn't your idea of a fine romance?
Funnily enough, bruising doesn't turn me on.
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