kyatic's Reviews (974)

My actual rating of this is 4.5 stars. I'm knocking off half a star for the ending, which was too abrupt for me and not conclusive enough - I'm not averse to ambiguous endings, but this one just sort of petered out. It wasn't even merely anticlimactic. It just sort of... wasn't. Things were happening, things were going to happen, and then they just sort of happened but really quickly and vaguely. It was a real shame because I could tell what the author was trying to achieve and it just didn't quite work, and after being so enthralled with the rest of the comic, it felt incredibly disappointing to be let down by just the last 10 or so pages.

However, that said, the rest of the comic was such an enjoyable experience that I'm not going to knock down the rating too much. It's important to note that, generally speaking, I'm not particularly enamoured of graphic novels, being one of those awfully pretentious folk who considers a novel to be an entity consisting solely of words. My experience with the genre extends as far as Maus and Persepolis, both of which are rather a far cry from this webcomic. I only picked up this comic (initially in book form) on the recommendation of a friend, who knew my reservations about graphic novels but somehow managed to convince me to overcome my snobbery and read it anyway. And really, thank God she did. The characterisation is some of the best I've ever seen in dialogue-only work. TJ is one of the most interesting characters I've come across, and I kept wishing he were real so that we could become best friends for life and braid each other's hair. I found Amal slightly less interesting, but not because he's any less rendered; he's just less my kind of person. The rapport between the two of them was so well crafted, too. To borrow one of those horrible buzzwords, it seemed very organic - the relationship between them grew very naturally, and nothing was forced at all. This is probably due to the length of time that the work took to create; the author had rather a long time to consider how she was going to develop everything. If only all authors were constrained as such.

The highpoint for me was the dialogue. It's incredibly authentic, and manages to be both poignant and hilarious at various points. The creator of this comic is both a highly skilled artist and writer, and it really does show. Considering the number of years that this took to complete, the artistic style is incredibly consistent. If you hold up the first page and compare it to the last page, there are some obvious improvements in style and finesse, but no real change. This is far from a bad thing as it makes the whole thing flow very well. If I hadn't been one of those people who read it as it went along, I would probably have been convinced that it had only taken a year or so (an impossible feat, I'm sure!).

I should add here that I read the first part of the text in book form, borrowing volume 1 from a friend, then read the entirety of part 2 and some of part 3 online in one evening, then read the next quarter of part 3 in real time updates, then got impatient and stopped reading (save for a few times when I thought to myself 'oh, I wonder how my old pals TJ and Amal are doing' and then read the odd few pages that had been released since I last looked) and then finally read all the rest of it in one evening after it was finished. So my experience with this particular text really took place over the course of about 2 years, whereas I know that others invested 6 years from beginning to end. Crazy stuff. I've picked up a few other webcomics since and tried to be one of those people who checks back every week for an update, but that way of life just isn't for me, man. I was built for different things. I may have overcome my distaste for the unwritten word, but I'll never be the kind of person who manages to successfully follow a webcomic. Thank God this one was released in print form, that's all I'm saying.

The only other problem I had with it is that I am not a huge fan of graphically depicted sex. I'm the kind of person who skips those sections in novels (and then inevitably misses a huge plot point when the murderer's name is revealed mid-coitus) and watches films with my hands over my eyes at salient points (har). I think it's just a second-hand embarrassment thing. Maybe I should talk to someone about it. Anyway, that meant that there were whole pages of this graphic novel that I just didn't read because they weren't to my taste. However, that's entirely my own problem, and I'm remiss to knock the rating down because of it. If you like to look at people doin' the do - and hey, I'm not judging - then you'll probably get a lot out of those pages that I skipped. So, no complaints about it here, just a warning to those who feel the same way as I do that you might end up turning a few pages in quick succession.

This book is the kind of text that makes me wish there were a film adaptation, because come on - a road trip movie with this level of subtext / subplot would make for an interesting watch indeed. Sure, I'd have to watch a few scenes from between my fingers, but the soundtrack would be awesome. If anyone is reading this and happens to own a film production company, you know what to do.

What a disappointing book. Almost masturbatory in some areas, and I don't just mean the extended bits where Heracles strums his own trumpet - you can actually imagine Winterson writing this and thinking to herself 'oh yeah, that's for the academics, that's the stuff'. Winterson clearly fancies herself up there with the greatest philosophers of all eras, and the texts she produces just don't merit that belief. This book pertains to discuss Atlas' burden as being not a physical burden, but more a psychological one - the twin burdens of choice and fate. Ostensibly an interesting premise, and one that made me eager to read this book - I've always enjoyed the myth of Atlas, and the numerous retellings that muse upon what his true burden really was. I expected to love this book. By Zeus, how wrong I was.

The problem is that this book doesn't answer - or indeed ask - any questions that haven't been asked - and indeed answered - a million times before. An actual exchange from the book between Heracles and Hera reads as follows (slightly paraphrased due to my having blocked this featherlight, tedious tome from my memory):
"How can I change my fate?"
"You have to make your own destiny."
Well, thanks for that insight, Jeanette. I'd never heard that on an episode of Power Rangers before, or in literally every Nicholas Sparks adaptation ever. Honestly, parts of this book read more like a Judy Bloom novel than a serious academic retelling of Atlas - which, OK, this book is not a textbook, but if it attempts to deal with heavy issues (no pun intended) then it should do a better job of it.

Another technique that Winterson often uses is the good old self insert. Sandwiched between the tales of Heracles and Atlas like a piece of forgotten ham is Jeanette Winterson's own life story. I almost skipped these pages. I just didn't want to read yet another groaning, moping account of her own life. We get it, Winterson. We've all read Oranges. It's all very sad, but can you write one book without an aside? Can you construct just one narrative without saying 'oh, by the way, in case you didn't know this about me, this book actually relates very well to my OWN life, and here's why...'? Not all fiction needs to hold a mirror up to the author, and if it does, it doesn't need to shine its reflection right in the reader's eyes like a laser pointer. I'm all for autobiographical authorial intent. Write a book as catharsis. That's fine. Just don't be so damn blatant about it. Subtlety is a fine art, and the brushstrokes here are childish.

Add that to the fact that the version I read was groaning with typing errors and grammatical mistakes (I spotted three on one page at one point, and nearly threw the book out the window) and this book made for one of the most unpleasant hours of my life. I've given it 2 stars for two reasons: firstly, Jeanette Winterson can turn a phrase like no other; and secondly, it was blissfully short. Had it been an extra hundred pages, I doubt I'd have finished it. To be honest, I almost wish I hadn't. I've rarely read a book that's made me feel quite so empty, disappointed and borderline angry as this one. I've felt more fulfilled after reading leaflets on gum disease at the dentist, and at least those didn't pretend to be great works of literature.

This is the third Winterson novel that I've read, after Oranges and Stone Gods, and I can honestly say that I'm going to have to implement a Three Strikes system here. I just can't put myself through it again. Like Heracles himself, I am ~choosing my own destiny~ and relieving myself of the burden of Winterson. God knows, I can't bear another burden like this. It's just too heavy, and yet nowhere near heavy enough.

I feel like I must have missed something with this book. For all the reviews proclaiming it a genius retelling, an avant-garde novel and a tour de force of storytelling, I found it to be merely an exercise in pretty prose writing and dialogue.

Don't get me wrong - this is a beautifully written book. There were quotes in this book that I've highlighted; there are pages that I've folded at the corners so I can find them again when I want to read a wonderful line. But that's all they are, and that's perhaps why they stood out so starkly; they're just beautiful lines in an otherwise rather empty narrative.

In terms of character, I had to struggle very hard to see any. Despite the fact that the narrative is told from more than one viewpoint, both narrative voices sounded exactly the same, with the only discernible difference being that Midge tended to think in almost staccato parentheses whereas Anthea's thoughts were more fluid. Both characters seemed to be almost interchangeable, and as for the character of Robin - well, she was really more of an archetype than anything else. An enjoyable archetype, yes, but an archetype nonetheless.

I also thought that the plot was poorly paced and jumped from one narrative event to the next with little to no context, meaning that the actual significance or indeed relevance of certain plot points was totally lost. It's a shame, because the actual plot itself was interesting, although slightly thin. I think that Smith could have done with an extra 50 or so pages to flesh things out a bit more. Bare bones are fine if there's a reason that they're skeletal. In contrast, the ending of the book dragged so terribly that it was a real chore to finish. The last seven or so pages could really have been condensed into one simple paragraph; the only casualty would have been some stunning poetic language, which this book doesn't lack anyway. I think a harsher editor might have been useful in this case.

I didn't hate the book. I want to make that clear. I'll certainly reread it in the future. I just wish that there was more to it behind the lovely prose and the deft wordplay, because on first reading, it seemed like a rather hollow narrative.

It's clear that much was lost in translation in this text. The stories are all very basic and told in a rudimentary style that may have worked if the translation were able to keep the poetic linguistic traditions of the original text, but in English, it just seems basic.

However, it's a good read for the otherwise newly inducted reader of Norse mythology, and it's provided me with a good base knowledge of the myths so that I can further research the ones I'm interested in.

I'd recommend it for someone who wants to learn more about Norse mythology but doesn't know where to start. If you're more au fait with the tales of the Eddas, then I'd suggest a more in-depth version.

I wanted to love this book. As an English graduate with a vested interest in queer literature and theory, I should have loved this book. And yet I didn't.

I think the main issue I had with it was the pacing. The first 3/4 of the book are set in Jeanette's childhood, and these chapters are fantastic. Beautifully written and insightful, Winterson manages beyond expectation to capture the voice of a child. These chapters are at once heartbreaking and amusing, with dry wit peppered throughout the narrative.

It's the last 1/4 of the book that lets it down. Within the space of a mere 50 or so pages, Jeanette grows up. She leaves home. She moves away. She does... something. It's hard to say what; we only ever hear that she lived a life in 'the city', away from everything she knew in the village in which she grew up. Throughout this section of the book, Winterson draws parallels with the life of her protagonist and various fairystories. We hear about Winnet, a young girl who was forced to abandon everything she knew back home, and eventually forgot who she was, retaining only a sense of loss. We hear about Sir Percival, who almost wasted away in search of the Grail. These stories, interwoven as they are with the main body of the narrative, are clearly supposed to be telling. We are supposed to associate these interlinking tales with Jeanette's own journey. The problem is that we don't know enough about Jeanette's story in this section for these separate narratives to have any weight or meaning in relation to it. OK, so by the tale of Winnet, we know that Jeanette herself changed beyond recognition when in the city, yet never stopped missing home. It would be nice, however, if we could hear this from Jeanette herself. It really depersonalised the text for me, these methods of telling Jeanette's story through the mouths of myths, and it didn't quite work as I think Winterson intended.

Honestly, it feels as though Winterson wrote the first 3/4 of the book and then realised that she was running out of room to tell the rest of her story, and so tacked it onto the end in the form of borrowed narratives. It made for a pretty story - the fables of Winnet and Percival are enjoyable, they're just not meaningful in context. It has the effect of seriously diminishing the end of the novel - because Jeanette returns home after many years away, but after only a few pages, it really doesn't seem like she's been away for a long time at all. It means that her ultimate epiphany is severely diminished into only a small realisation, and it lessens the impact of the first excellent 3/4. Were it not for the ending, this book would merit 4 stars, but I can't in good faith give it any more than 3 when I finished it feeling so disappointed.