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Oh, The Luminaries, I was expecting a lot more from you. Don’t get my wrong, it was a good book. Great, even. But it wasn’t as mind-blowing and breath taking as other reviews and people made it out to be.
Eleanor Catton tells a story that masterfully intertwines a mysterious disappearance, a rising politician, and an opium-loving prostitute in the town of Hokitika, New Zealand. I don’t want to give away too much of the plot, so I will just say that Catton does a fabulous job of introducing a wide cast of characters that are all unique and pretty well developed. I did occasionally get some of the older white-guy characters mixed up, but that may have been because I read this book over a long stretch of time and my memory was a little rusty. However, I stuck with the story despite my slight confusion, and it paid off. The story dragged on at times, but never in a way that was immensely dry or cringe-worthy. It dragged on in more of a “I’m taking a leisurely walk through the park to get to the grocery store” type of way. It was enjoyable once I realized that it was about the journey, not the destination. Catton wrote The Luminaries in the style of the time it takes place in, 1866. She uses this to her advantage, making wry comments about females that can (and should) be read with scorching sarcasm. The writing style helped me further immerse myself in the time and setting of the story, which is something I always enjoy doing whenever I read a book.
I do feel that there was a whole other layer to this book that I just didn’t understand. Catton uses zodiac signs and other astrological elements to structure her characters and plot. I know next to nothing about astrology (only that I’m a Cancer and I’m ruled by the moon…) and I felt that my limited knowledge made me miss out on a lot of the nuances of Catton’s characters. I didn’t take the time to do any in-depth research, though. Instead, I decided to just read the novel and take what I got at face-value.
All in all, it was an entertaining story and I’m glad I invested the time in reading this hefty novel.
Eleanor Catton tells a story that masterfully intertwines a mysterious disappearance, a rising politician, and an opium-loving prostitute in the town of Hokitika, New Zealand. I don’t want to give away too much of the plot, so I will just say that Catton does a fabulous job of introducing a wide cast of characters that are all unique and pretty well developed. I did occasionally get some of the older white-guy characters mixed up, but that may have been because I read this book over a long stretch of time and my memory was a little rusty. However, I stuck with the story despite my slight confusion, and it paid off. The story dragged on at times, but never in a way that was immensely dry or cringe-worthy. It dragged on in more of a “I’m taking a leisurely walk through the park to get to the grocery store” type of way. It was enjoyable once I realized that it was about the journey, not the destination. Catton wrote The Luminaries in the style of the time it takes place in, 1866. She uses this to her advantage, making wry comments about females that can (and should) be read with scorching sarcasm. The writing style helped me further immerse myself in the time and setting of the story, which is something I always enjoy doing whenever I read a book.
I do feel that there was a whole other layer to this book that I just didn’t understand. Catton uses zodiac signs and other astrological elements to structure her characters and plot. I know next to nothing about astrology (only that I’m a Cancer and I’m ruled by the moon…) and I felt that my limited knowledge made me miss out on a lot of the nuances of Catton’s characters. I didn’t take the time to do any in-depth research, though. Instead, I decided to just read the novel and take what I got at face-value.
All in all, it was an entertaining story and I’m glad I invested the time in reading this hefty novel.
This book was a quick, entertaining read. It was exactly what I was expecting: an easy to read romantic-comedy-emotional-drama story. Lately I’ve only had time to read at night right before I go to sleep, so I was looking for something that would be accessible but still engaging. Beautiful Ruins delivered just that. The intertwined stories of the characters were great. It wasn’t too ostentatious, but it wasn’t overly simple. I was curious to learn how their stories collided, interacted, and melded together, so I was constantly engaged throughout the book. My favorite characters were Pasquale and Dee, and I was disappointed that Walters didn’t spend more time with them. I also really enjoyed the story of Dee’s son, Pat. I felt that it added an interesting layer to what could have been a shallow plot. It was well written, but wrought with paragraphs about love and time that were overly sentimental for my taste. It was an entertaining read, and I’m glad I decided to pick it out at my library’s book store.
I read Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff last year, and ever since then I have had a fascination, almost a reverence, for the woman that was Cleopatra. The Memoirs of Cleopatra had been on my radar for quite some time, but due to its 1,000+ page count, I was always a little hesitant to pick it up. What if it’s not good? What if the powerful tale of Cleopatra is degenerated into some smutty romance story? (This is unfortunately very common in the historical fiction genre). I finally found a copy at a used bookstore in Newport Beach, and I decided to invest five of my dollars and buy it. I was not disappointed!
The Memoirs of Cleopatra draws out the ideas, legends, and myths about Cleopatra to create a mostly realistic, substantial character. Whenever I was in history class, I would always imagine what historical figures would have been like. Not in an idealized way, but in a realistic, sometimes nitty gritty way. George helped me do that with Cleopatra by giving her a voice and giving her true human emotions. Much of what we know about Cleopatra is conjecture, legend, or Shakespearian. George draws on these sources but also takes liberties of her own in order to humanize the woman who was the ruler of Egypt. I’m writing this review a few months after having completed this book, so my memory is a bit foggy on specifics, but I remember the story being interesting the whole way through. Sure, there were some slow parts, but it was never unbearable.
George embellished on events that may (or may not) have happened during the course of Cleopatra’s life, and she did it with historical accuracy to the best of her ability. I could actually imagine myself walking the streets of Alexandria, attending Cleopatra’s famed boat party in Tarsus, and witnessing Marc Antony’s fall into ruin. Historical fiction walks a fine line. There are some books that are mundane but accurate, and there are some that simply use a “historical” setting for an unrealistic romance plot. George walks that fine line with grace and depicts Cleopatra as a believable human being, not the infamous seductress that common culture often says she is. And that was a refreshing breath of air.
The Memoirs of Cleopatra draws out the ideas, legends, and myths about Cleopatra to create a mostly realistic, substantial character. Whenever I was in history class, I would always imagine what historical figures would have been like. Not in an idealized way, but in a realistic, sometimes nitty gritty way. George helped me do that with Cleopatra by giving her a voice and giving her true human emotions. Much of what we know about Cleopatra is conjecture, legend, or Shakespearian. George draws on these sources but also takes liberties of her own in order to humanize the woman who was the ruler of Egypt. I’m writing this review a few months after having completed this book, so my memory is a bit foggy on specifics, but I remember the story being interesting the whole way through. Sure, there were some slow parts, but it was never unbearable.
George embellished on events that may (or may not) have happened during the course of Cleopatra’s life, and she did it with historical accuracy to the best of her ability. I could actually imagine myself walking the streets of Alexandria, attending Cleopatra’s famed boat party in Tarsus, and witnessing Marc Antony’s fall into ruin. Historical fiction walks a fine line. There are some books that are mundane but accurate, and there are some that simply use a “historical” setting for an unrealistic romance plot. George walks that fine line with grace and depicts Cleopatra as a believable human being, not the infamous seductress that common culture often says she is. And that was a refreshing breath of air.
Oh. My. God. This book. So disturbing. So fascinating. So beautiful. What else can I possibly say about this book? After finishing it, I mulled over the story and its message for days, trying to figure out why I was appalled. Was it the characters in the book that so repulsed me? Or was I appalled by the truths about human nature that this book exposed so well? Süskind writes the book as if it is a legend, a fable. The main character is a truly rotten human being, but I didn’t feel strong hatred towards him because this story was written in such a detached but beautiful manner. Grenouille was simply a vessel in which Süskind carried his message. What is that message? Well, I imagine it’s a little different for everyone, and I can’t tell you the message I received from this story because it changes for me every time I think about it. All I know for certain is that Perfume is a beautiful, eerie story that entertains, terrifies, and makes one look at the deeper corners of the soul. You should read it.