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francesmthompson's Reviews (976)
I've been dipping in and out of this all year, and I'm still not finished, strictly speaking.
I suspect I never will be. Nor do I ever want to be, because poetry unlike other literary forms is like songs - begging to be re-read, re-experienced, enjoyed over and over again.
I suspect I never will be. Nor do I ever want to be, because poetry unlike other literary forms is like songs - begging to be re-read, re-experienced, enjoyed over and over again.
Soooo I know the word "war" is in the title, but I didn't expect the tone of this book to be so... well, angry, and almost violent in places.
I'd read so many articles and blog posts referencing this book that I already knew its basic premise (i.e. we are all born to do something creative but we are also born with a resistance internally that makes us procrastinate or ignore our creative desires completely and so the war of art is the ongoing battle overcoming The Resistance) but I still thought it would have lots of value for me because it is so highly recommended by people in the public sphere that I respect and admire.
It did have some value. I like how it identifies modern society and consumer-culture as a root of Resistance and it reaffirmed my belief that I need to write to be the best version of myself... but it also toyed with ideas that I'm not comfortable accepting. Firstly, there was a lot of talk of the Muse, and also God being part of our creative purpose. While I don't have the same lengthy experience of professional writing as Mr Pressfield, my 5 years of writing regularly and publishing my work continues to make me feel that there is no such thing as the Muse. We are all masters of our own destiny and we have to choose to work in order to do the work. The more we put in the easier it can be (but not always!) and Pressfield goes some way to agree with this ("we get what we put in"). But to say any or all of this comes from a Godly or mythical presence doesn't help encourage people to sit down and do the work, which is where I believe Resistance really and truly exists. It's also hard to understand his view that we should do the work regardless of the outcome when he goes to great pains to highlight his commercial successes as some sort of validation... I therefore found it a bit contradictory.
Furthermore, it's not a book to read if you have any experience of mental health struggles as it briefly and quite bluntly suggests that depression and anxiety wouldn't exist if we all did more art. I have always believed creativity helps soothe such illnesses and our souls on a bad day, but it's frankly insulting to suggest we would be free of it if we all indulged a creative habit for a few hours a day... something only very privileged people (like myself) are physically, logisticaly or financially able to do.
I fear I'm getting almost as ranty as the author now so I will stop by saying you should read this book if you are very new to writing or any other art, but take the tone and message with a pinch of salt... or like me, be selective of what serves you, because frankly finding things to encourage us on this ever unpredictable journey is truly necessary to beat the Resistance I cannot deny we encounter every day.
I'd read so many articles and blog posts referencing this book that I already knew its basic premise (i.e. we are all born to do something creative but we are also born with a resistance internally that makes us procrastinate or ignore our creative desires completely and so the war of art is the ongoing battle overcoming The Resistance) but I still thought it would have lots of value for me because it is so highly recommended by people in the public sphere that I respect and admire.
It did have some value. I like how it identifies modern society and consumer-culture as a root of Resistance and it reaffirmed my belief that I need to write to be the best version of myself... but it also toyed with ideas that I'm not comfortable accepting. Firstly, there was a lot of talk of the Muse, and also God being part of our creative purpose. While I don't have the same lengthy experience of professional writing as Mr Pressfield, my 5 years of writing regularly and publishing my work continues to make me feel that there is no such thing as the Muse. We are all masters of our own destiny and we have to choose to work in order to do the work. The more we put in the easier it can be (but not always!) and Pressfield goes some way to agree with this ("we get what we put in"). But to say any or all of this comes from a Godly or mythical presence doesn't help encourage people to sit down and do the work, which is where I believe Resistance really and truly exists. It's also hard to understand his view that we should do the work regardless of the outcome when he goes to great pains to highlight his commercial successes as some sort of validation... I therefore found it a bit contradictory.
Furthermore, it's not a book to read if you have any experience of mental health struggles as it briefly and quite bluntly suggests that depression and anxiety wouldn't exist if we all did more art. I have always believed creativity helps soothe such illnesses and our souls on a bad day, but it's frankly insulting to suggest we would be free of it if we all indulged a creative habit for a few hours a day... something only very privileged people (like myself) are physically, logisticaly or financially able to do.
I fear I'm getting almost as ranty as the author now so I will stop by saying you should read this book if you are very new to writing or any other art, but take the tone and message with a pinch of salt... or like me, be selective of what serves you, because frankly finding things to encourage us on this ever unpredictable journey is truly necessary to beat the Resistance I cannot deny we encounter every day.
I can't help feeling the author wrote this while suffering acute insomnia himself. The plot points didn't really add up, I had minimal empathy for most of the characters and while the premise was so good (it's why I downloaded the book) it just didn't deliver or even delve into the topic half as much as I hoped. Maybe I'm just too green to this genre and others would enjoy it greatly, but for me, it just left me feeling a little weary and disoriented... so yes, like I'd had many a bad night's sleep too.
So unexpectedly good. There are very few books I've read this year that I wanted to start all over again once I was finished but this was one of them. Beryl Bainbridge really proves herself as a wide-reaching author with this.
Another collection of poetry that I have enjoyed sporadically. It's been a real journey, getting to know this poet/author that is so admired and revered by many great literary figures... and Walter White, of course. Hope to one day have a hard copy so I can share these poems with others easier.
I feel like reading this novel was a half-complete experience. I enjoyed so much about it - the tender relationships between its characters, the simpleness and subtleties of language at times - but I also felt like these beautiful branches, which led me deeper into the story, were bare of leaves and occasionally snapped and fell to the ground. The title didn't quite fit the story, there seemed too many layers (too much tragedy) and too little exploration of the main character herself with so much of the attention placed on other characters around her. All of this doesn't detract from the fact I kept returning to the story knowing it was going to lead me to more tenderness, I just wish it could have taken me there on a sturdier, stronger, less peculiar path.
Oh how I wish I could slap an extra star on the end of this, but while I LOVED the plot, the twists (as didn't-see-that-coming as everyone says), the themes and the suspense Mackintosh maintains throughout, I didn't find it an easy read. In fact, I nearly didn't read it at all as twice I picked it up but abandanoned it before the third chapter because I found it a little uninteresting, procedural and well, cliche. I suspect my distaste for things feeling a little over-explained and over-described on occasion is because these kind of crime/thriller novels are not my usual cup of tea, and I should probably not expect prose that makes my insides light up, or original dialogue or characterisations.
All this said, I cannot express how hooked I was on the story from about halfway in (you'll know why when you get there) and how I wasn't disappointed by the ending either. Since reading the book I also learned that the author drew on personal loss to also tackle some of the themes in the book and have a lot of respect and admiration for her doing so. I look forward to reading the author's next book very much.
All this said, I cannot express how hooked I was on the story from about halfway in (you'll know why when you get there) and how I wasn't disappointed by the ending either. Since reading the book I also learned that the author drew on personal loss to also tackle some of the themes in the book and have a lot of respect and admiration for her doing so. I look forward to reading the author's next book very much.
Oh how I loved The Miniaturist (the author's first novel) and how I felt like this one didn't match it in many ways, albeit still a solidly put together book. It's hard to explain how this story didn't quite match up but it just seemed to drift more... and not always in the way that it gently keeps you afloat when there is no land in sight...
Essential reading for ALL writers. The introduction and opening chapter carried some much weight I wish I could imprint it on the inside of my eyelids.