ed_moore's Reviews (345)

Kafka’s ‘The Castle’ is another example of why the term Kafkaesque was derived from his nightmarish works. The story follows a man known only as K. (the same name as the protagonist of ‘The Trial’ though a different figure, and interestingly the stories very much mimic one another) who has been recruited as a surveyor by the castle, though he finds he was mistakenly appointed and has no work. Alike to ‘The Trial’ K. finds himself in an endless and futile struggle to appeal to “the castle” and have his case looked over, where he finds no belonging in both the village and among the officials of the castle. 

Kafka once again criticises bureaucracy and failed legal systems in this work, and though surreal and purposefully confusing and fractured, it is also a lot less engaging than ‘The Trial’ as it primarily does this through mostly meaningless conversations with various village folk. 

It is impossible not to address the fact that Kafka died before he could finish this work, it ends mid-sentence unexplained and leaving more questions even than the multitude of questions Kafka intends to leave relating to his surrealist works. I knew from the first few chapters that K. would never reach the castle as otherwise it would defeat the purpose of the meaning I assume this text is supposed to convey, however I suppose the book being unfinished we can never know if it was intended he would get there in the end. Also the speed that K. became infatuated by the books love interest Freida, and how little this sudden romance and the turbulence that follows occurs is completely overlooked within the books plot, almost to the extent of sudden infatuation made infamous in ‘Romeo and Juliet’. 

Whilst a fascinating concept on surface and extremely absurdist and surreal in Kafka’s typical fashion, I felt ‘The Castle’ was attempting to mimic ‘The Trial’ and doing a much worse job of it. Perhaps if Kafka was able to finish ‘The Castle’ it would’ve tidied itself up or left me more broken in disbelief, (each of these would’ve been beneficial to the story), but with the fractured story we unfortunately have I have to declare that ‘The Trial’ executes the same concept to a much better standard. 

The final instalment of the Divine Comedy, Dante’s ‘Paradiso’ is set over the days following Easter Sunday so I have unintentionally read this at the perfect time. That being said, it was a huge drop in quality from ‘Inferno’ and ‘Purgatorio’. ‘Paradiso’ follows Dante’s pilgrimage through Heaven, which is depicted as just a flight through space past various planets rather than an independent realm such as Hell and Purgatory. In this instalment the guide of Dante changes from Virgil, to the woman he was infatuated by, Beatrice, and she is just constantly gawked over by him and frequently described to have beauty beyond description. Having read ‘La Vita Nuova’ and knowing the real relationship, or lack of which, between Dante and Beatrice, his fantastical love was a painful read. She was also a much less interesting companion than Virgil was in the prior two segments of the Comedy. 

Additionally, ‘Paradisio’ was far less interesting as its primary focus was on religious conversations and the passing of moral messages, rather than an insight into the inhabitants of Paradise and any political or mythological commentary. Paradise frankly appeared to be a pretty boring place to end up, for all the souls just float around as little balls of light in emptiness, singing hymns. It might be blasphemous but Hell seemed like a far more interesting place to reside and Heaven seemed to have no real merit. 

That being said, the translator of the edition I read, Mark Musa, was by far the best translator of the Comedia that I have read, he previous editions being those of Durling and Kirkpatrick, and his explanatory notes were also brilliant. Whilst better in format, assessing Dante’s poetics ‘Paradiso’ was such a disappointing fall off from how brilliant ‘Inferno’ and ‘Purgatorio’ were.

Hammett’s ‘The Maltese Falcon’ coined the phrase ‘Maltese falcon’ and its usage for an object of extreme value. The classical crime thriller follows private investigator Sam Spade following the murder of his partner as he is roped into involvement covering up a series of robberies and murders for a group of thieves to acquire a small statue, the Maltese Falcon.

Unlike many other crime thrillers I have read, this one just didn’t have that lingering factor other than its insertion into English linguistics. There was no major shocking twist, I rarely was tense or curious as cues unfolded, and Sam Spade was an extremely boring protagonist as he is a largely emotionless detective with that magical ‘Sherlock Holmes’ ability to just know things without prior explanation and immense protagonist plot armour. 

The rest of the characters are much more distinct and interesting to be in the presence of, both Effie and Brigid being very dynamic, strong but also manipulative figures, however this doesn’t quite overcome the dullness of Spade. ‘The Maltese Falcon’ was far from the most engaging or gritty thrillers I have read.

The second instalment of Dante’s Divine Comedy ‘Purgatorio’ follows Dante and Virgil’s pilgrimage to the summit of Mount Purgatory and through the Garden of Eden after surfacing from Hell. In comparison to ‘Inferno’, Purgatorio has many more poets as figures doing penance, as oppose to political figures and mythological figures in Inferno, though each of these categories of sinners are still present just in a lesser volume. It also has much more emphasis on sharing moral religious lessons and an attention to detail on hymns being sung, so naturally the more religious focus was more present in ‘Purgatorio’ and less to my enjoyment than depictions of sin in ‘Inferno’ (what did I expect in a religious allegorical poem though.) There are also many intentional similarities and callbacks to Inferno which were exciting, and less intentional similarities such as the continued obsession with Virgil, and the presence of even more classical poets creating a somehow greater impression of Dante writing a self-insert fan fiction where he is praised by all his favourite poets. ‘Purgatorio’ also addresses the reader much more which was an unusual change in tone I noted, perhaps this being related to the greater emphasis on teaching conversations and moral lessons being discussed as Mount Purgatory is climbed. I also cannot fail to mention that Canto 32 is perhaps one of the most batshit things ever written and I had to really process how and why all the random occurrences during such just - happened. I suppose it perfectly summarises the nature of the Divine Comedy though. Overall ‘Purgatorio’ wasn’t as good as ‘Inferno’, yet despite this still holds a lot of merit. 

‘The Catcher in the Rye’ is told from the perspective of 16 year old Holden Caufield who has just flunked out of his third school. It follows him as he tries to avoid going home to hide this and therefore spending a few days idling around New York. Salinger makes Holden the worst character to be stuck in the head of, yet in doing this perfectly captures the arrogance and superiority complex of a teenaged boy. This however does not mean it was a pleasant experience seeing the world through his eyes. Everyone of ‘phoney’ or a ‘sonuvabitch’ and the overwhelming majority of women he comes across, aside from his 8 year old sister, are completely objectified. The plot wasn’t even that great as not that much happens despite how Holden sees the few days as worth telling, I was waiting the whole time certain a major plot event would pick it up of which never happened, and there are no characters to root for as Holden is dislikable and he dislikes everyone else so much he doesn’t give them time to develop and shape the story. Whilst the depiction of the mind of a 16 year old cocky teenager was really well done, all in all the book wasn’t great, and given its reputation I did think it would be a book I liked before reading despite not knowing loads about it. All I take from it is if ever I am asked in public what I happen to be reading, “goddamn book” is certainly an optional response. 

Bazzterrica’s ‘Tender is the Flesh’ really leaves me conflicted on the opinions of the book, I certainly did not enjoy it, far from it, though it wasn’t at all bad. A dystopia where animal meat is diseased and inedible so the population turns to systematic cannibalism is just a theme that cannot be an enjoyable reading experience. Every single chapter was uncomfortable, the themes, descriptions of murder and consumption of humans with no remorse, care or ability to see the murder victims as human, but alike to the animals slaughtered in todays meat industry, was harrowing. It was the most unpleasant reading experience I have ever had. 

 

In substituting the animals of the meat industry for humans it was an extremely strong argument for veganism, and made me feel utterly sick every single chapter, and that is as a person who extremely rarely eats meat, never choosing to cook it myself and only having it when served to me by somebody else. The world building in the book was both incredible and utterly harrowing, but the theme was the only real standout element when it came to the writing itself. 

 

The whole book was written in an extremely blunt and to the point tone, almost like a list of events in the protagonist Marcos’ life and long list features to contribute to world building. While I recognise this could reflect the lack of remorse towards the consumption of humans and is a clever technique in such regards, it also came across as extremely bland and sloppy writing. The characters were also all quite flat, once again all awful people and one dimensional possibly for the focus on how little remorse existed in the dystopian universe, but also again uninteresting writing. 

 

‘Tender is the Flesh’ was eye-opening and so uncomfortable with a really interesting, impactful and harrowing premise, but aside from such was not the greatest in a stylistic or plot perspective (the plot also felt very lacking and only focused on world building, new elements of the human processing plant and universe being introduced in the second to penultimate chapter). This is book where the trigger warnings are a must, as it is the most uncomfy book I have ever read, is far from enjoyable, yet absolutely worth considering reading. 

Virgil’s ‘The Georgics’ is an ‘epic’ poem about labour and the land. I place the term epic into quotations however as the poem teeters on the line of wether it can be described as an epic, it not being a poem of a journey or battle with any hero figures, however is a work of Virgil’s and to an extent explores the journey of crops, livestock and the land, and how this fuels empires, conflicts and journeys. Therefore an agricultural journey is presented to enable the journeys of the great epics. 

‘The Georgics’ wasn’t the most engaging, what can one expect from a poem about farming of which I read as a comparison piece for a university assignment, whereas the fourth book with focus on bees and Aristaeus’ attempt at redemption for the indirect murder of Eurydice after attempting to rape her was interesting. Aristaeus however wasn’t particularly condemned for his actions by Virgil, which is a presentation I can’t say I particularly agreed with. 

Whilst not the most thrilling of topics, it was written well and offered many interesting points of analysis. Not quite up to the level of The Aenied but what is!

The title of Henry James’ ‘The Turn of the Screw’ refers to the thumb screw as a means of torture, the events getting more and more unpleasant as the screw is turned, and though the novel is disconcerting at times I wouldn’t say it lives up to such title. It is the story of a governess who cares for two orphaned children, but becomes aware that they are being visited by a pair of ghosts each of whom were significant in the lives of the children before their death. 

James’ depiction of the ghosts to be a constant ominous presence was about all I found effective in his story. The figures of Jessel and Quint were certainly spine chilling in their appearances at times, but quickly became quite underwhelming antagonists, perhaps forcing the reader to place blame on the governess or the children Flora and Miles becoming the greater uncertain threat, because to James’ credit children behaving ominously is absolutely a staple of subtle uncomfortable horror. This speculation on the readers perspective however wasn’t enough to make the plot engaging, for the story was solely a sequence of non-consequential ghostly appearances and the twist I was expecting to throw the story askew and really make it something never came, leaving the ending events a bitter disappointment.  Whilst nothing happened there was also somehow still so many questions and plot lines left unanswered, too many to justify a mysterious ending that makes the reader think. 

Some more minor negatives were the lacking justification of the introductory section, including a collection of different characters who fetch the manuscript of the story of the governess and the children and begin to read It, but once the main story begins these readers are never returned to and their inclusion in the opening feels pointless. Further, I didn’t see any purpose in the decision to leave the governess, the protagonist character, without a name. She was left completely undeveloped other than a slightly mad, slightly possessive woman and James couldn’t even give her the credit of naming her. I didn’t have huge expectations for Henry James, but ultimately finished ‘The Turn of the Screw’ completely underwhelmed. 

Haynes’ ‘Pandora’s Jar’ wasn’t what I expected going into the book. Do not enter this book expecting a fictional retelling of the Pandora myth, as this is not what you will get in such work and you’ll likely be disappointed. I however was not disappointed by the non-fiction analytical format that looked at 10 women in greek mythology and their perception across various sources and retellings from the ancient world to modern translation, and inverting their negative perceptions or writing them back into the story. 

The title ‘Pandora’s Jar’ highlights and microcosms the culture of female misrepresentation across mythology and its posterity, for in the myth of Pandora’s box there was never a box until Erasmus’ translation in the 1500’s, but a jar. This is just one of many incorrect depictions that results in the villainisation of figures such as Medusa or the belittling of the likes of Medea. Whilst in cases of Medea or Clytemnestra representations of them as villainous figures is accurate (and why shouldn’t they be able to take up such role), future perceptions twisted or left out elements of story to undermine their cleverness, justification in revenge for such treatment, or implemented and emphasised other elements of their stories to make them only appear worse people. 

It was an insightful look at figures across mythology and really influences ones perceptions and assumptions, and this broad span of mythological analysis was structured well for the most part, whereas I very much disliked the discussions in the final third of each chapter on modern interpretations. Whilst the point of the book is looking at a history of depictions and misinterpretations of these figures somehow references and analysis of Star Trek and The Lego Movie in a book discussing the tragedies of Sophocles, Aeschylus and Euripides didn’t sit well with me. That being said, the majority of the discussions were engaging and enjoyable and it contained many much appreciated insights on these wronged figures of mythology. 

Madeline George’s ‘Hurricane Diane’ is a retelling of Euripides’ ‘The Bacchae’ where Dionysus, disappointed by the ecological ruin of the world and monumental decline in worship, returns to  earth posing as the butch lesbian gardener Diane vowing to rebuild their Bacchae and prevent the worlds ecological ruin. It is an utterly unhinged play and Diane/Dionysus is such a comical yet prominent and imposing lead with questionable but warm and well natured intentions. The blend of Greek mythology and eco-criticism was so clever and it was such a rollercoaster of the plot that really could’ve gone in any direction and in the end certainly went somewhere. I loved the ecological and anti-ecological monologues and despite the plays unpredictability and sheer silliness it had such a brilliant core theme which was executed so well, just a pure vibes play.