alex
i think the crux of this (and maybe pynchon's work in general) is the dichotomy between chaos and control in the order of the world, and i think that's especially fitting considering the novel's famously regarded style. pynchon's prose is some of the best i've read, rendering many scenes baffling or vulgar yet imbuing others with a sense of oddly ethereal beauty.
perhaps a more critical look at the novel is futile considering how much of the plot i was unable to grasp, but nonetheless, i don't think this is perfect. imo pynchon abuses racial slurs a bit gratuitously despite the anti-racist sentiment, and i just find some digressions to just be unnecessary in the wider scope of things. though the wide base of knowledge, the countless facts and intellectual digressions weaved through the story matter is undoubtedly part of the appeal. the amalgam of ideas here is intriguing, and the wider story of a world torn by war is endlessly fascinating. pynchon encompasses so many topics into ~700 pages and still makes the transitions between them feel generally intuitive and natural. absolute madlad.
can't really explain it, but this is one of the best things i've read. solid five stars.
i have a million things to say and no idea how to say them. don't think i can formulate an actual review, but a few things i want to take note of right now
-this book fucked me up in a way that nothing of the medium has in memory. the concept is already scary enough and the medium is utilized to the fullest to convey each part. the descents into the house are terrifying but there are two other things that come to mind. one is the very concept of the minotaur, the ominous red strikethrough, how it remains entirely enigmatic and no tangible explanation is given. if i had to give a guess as to its inclusion i'd wager it has something to do with johnny and his heritage, but i'll delve further into that later. the other is the letters from johnny's mother. those later letters are some of the most disturbing things i've ever read, especially once the book's signature typographic quirks are used.
-i have a plethora of theories but the one that intrigues me most is the idea of pelafina writing the entire novel while at whalestoe. my theory is that it spawns from her grief over johnny's death (two possible details about johnny's childhood support that), especially if she caused it herself. zampano could be representative of johnny's father - one idea that came to mind is pelafina cheating on her husband with this zampano parallel, rendering johnny a sort of bastard (minotaur theory ahem) child and the entire novel a sort of letter to johnny's father in itself. that explains the pelafina/karen parallels, the often haphazard style and inconsistencies of the book, and perhaps how johnny's nightmares mirror pelafina's choking of him - although that was likely just intended to convey the longstanding trauma. i wish i'd thoroughly read the letters before the novel, it makes johnny a much more compelling figure.
-something about this novel feels so distinctly... evil, even in the more positive interpretations of it. even after finishing the novel the dread still lingers, and i don't think it will dissipate for ages.
-the house in itself can be seen as a sort of rorschach test, and i believe the same goes for the novel per se. some people interpret this as a horror novel, a simple academic satire, or even a love story. i am finding myself very conflicted as to how i interpret this but there's a very personal story at the heart of both the navidson record and johnny's escapades, tedious as i sometimes found the latter. speaking of which, that may be the only thing which keeps me from proclaiming this my favourite novel. that and the amount of content i feel i may have missed the point on. this is such a dense work, and even still i feel kind of overwhelmed. but i don't know, i think it very well could be the best thing i've had the honour of reading.
oh also! this marks the end of my reading goal for 2023, a measly twelve books. we're not even halfway through may so i obviously underestimated myself a bit, but i really wasn't expecting to get back into reading the way i have recently. new goal is a tentative thirty novels, but if i am going to tackle pynchon, joyce, mccarthy, etc as i'm planning to the goal may reduce due to difficulty of the material.
read for english class
it's always difficult to attempt a more cursory statement on a work you've been picking apart for weeks, even a relatively short one such as this. but if anything i have to commend how this dissects traditional war fiction, beyond being obviously unglamorous it's a really incredible subversion if you're familiar with the genre. a lot of this lies in tralfamadorian philosophy, ie how it is juxtaposed over the war via billy pilgrim's perspective to convey how powerless the individual pawns are in the scale of global conflict. there are no heroes, not the apathetic billy nor the vengeance driven paul lazarro. the closest thing to a hero we have, at least a wholly patriotic and seemingly good-natured figure, is executed for taking a teacup from the crumbling remains of dresden.
there is a debate about what constitutes “anti-war” media, one i believe to be more prominent in cinematic discussion circles - the topic is inherently glamourized and/or aestheticized in a lot of films, and while i think it's more difficult to inadvertently do so in the written medium it's still a possibility. nonetheless i think this is one of the most potent anti-war works i've come across, in part due to the sentiment being clearly embedded in vonnegut's own experiences as a prisoner of war. he seems to be very conscious of how general media glorifies the topic. a recurring and utterly horrifying statement is that the soldiers of these wars are truly just children. not heroes, but children dehumanized, reduced to tools for conflict. in a novel full of incredible ideas, i believe that is what will stay with me the longest.
But I could still recognize him, for who but a man with two minds could understand a man with no face?
Staggering. A story that is political satire, spy lit, and character/cultural study all at once, conveyed with sweeping prose of description and dialogue, memory and present, all which bleed together in Nguyen's gorgeous writing. The pure artistry of the language here is at times electrifying, yet the content itself is so bleak in itself, despite the excellent humorous touches. Despite the soaring ambitions, almost everything here worked for me, my only significant complaint being the writing of women, which is the only place the lovely description really falters. I can understand why others claim this overwritten or didactic, but I really liked the style here, and how it so effortlessly blends fact and fiction. I'm thinking a light 4.5 stars.
I've got fairly mixed feelings about this. On one hand, there's a very potent message of coming to terms with grief, one I believe is generally handled well. There's a certain moment towards the end of the book that genuinely had my eyes a bit watery. But on the other hand, the way Eleanor is written didn't always work for me - there's a handful of things about her social ineptitude, etc, that felt a bit odd or served to make Eleanor seem more childlike than she should. I'm not opposed to the ideas, just think that the writing was a bit off at times. But otherwise, there's a lot I loved about this. Would recommend it overall.
Delightfully plays with time-worn concepts and devices, from the whodunnit structure and archetypes to bodyswaps and time travel (ish). Each aspect culminates into an amalgam of genres and ideas, one which is executed with such grace. While the intricate structure and plot can feel overwhelming at times, the puzzle is constructed so well that I don't particularly mind the occasional confusion. More to look forward to next time I read this, I suppose.
Intertwined with the mystery is a wonderfully executed theme of identity and memory, one executed through the protagonist's amnesia and the (utterly brilliant) concept of him inheriting the traits of the personas he inhabits. Areas like that are where Turton's writing really shines for me. Yes, the sheer audacity of the premise was worth the time for me, but there's some very clever and even profound ideas beyond the superficial fun of it.
A few passages are a bit rough, and some things don't quite work. But overall, this is one of the most creative novels I've read, blending an eclectic range of ideas into something cohesive and wholly unique. Highly recommended!
3.5 rounded upwards
a grand portrayal of a small town, a bit of a mess yet so sincere and so committed to the stories it tells. for every questionable or unnecessary bit of writing (or lack of writing - seriously, why was there so little focus on amat?) there's two moments that flat out made me want to cry. very clearly the middle child of a trilogy, there's a lot of set-up that is never acted upon which is quite clearly intended for book 3 (leo, alicia, etc etc). and for how blunt the metaphors and foreshadowing can be, i also find them incredibly effective. there's a certain implication about benji's fate, for example, that's been frequently set-up from book one and it still hits hard.
in short: some things could be chopped off or toned down a bit, yet it's ultimately a very cohesive and poignant piece of fiction. maybe the sort of thing that i won't love in a few years, yet for the time being it's really clicked.
3.5
Bit of a shame that the plot never quite lives up to the gorgeous writing style it inhibits. While it's a good reflection on the intersection between traditional gender roles and culture, the story and characters themselves often feel one-note. Unlike the film, which is most often through the perspective of Kahu/Paikea, there's an even focus on the other members of her family. While this broader focus could make for a more nuanced portrayal of the subject matter, and does in some ways, the decision to focus on Rawiri's life feels oddly unearned. As well as the strange lack of insight into Kahu's perspective, into what she truly wants. I suppose there's some merit to that, with how her family often overlooks her skills due to her gender, but it leads to her character feeling shallow at the same time. Feels like this could have been a much stronger novel with some structural fixes, but it's not bad in this case.
Funnily enough, I think this shines whenever whales are present. From the sweeping, almost poetic renditions of The Whale Rider's legend to the harrowing scenes with the beached whales (the first of which genuinely upset me, btw - perhaps the only part of the book to actually hit me on an emotional level). Overall, I think this is quite great, yet its a bit of a shame how lacklustre some parts are when contrasted with the novel's strengths.
So impactful that I can pardon the odd overwrought moment and the occasional overly-blunt line - if anything is the major flaw here I'd wager that a few moments seem too... simple, I suppose? As if they're being spoon-fed? But that's a pretty small complaint considering that this had me holding back tears a few times
A few other notes:
-A whole lot less about hockey itself than the town's mentality surrounding the sport, which made for a truly interesting read
-Love the characters! Benji, Maya, Amat, and Ana have a very special place in my heart
-Looking forward to books 2 and 3, though I don't enjoy a certain implication...
-The ending is incredible, simply
I generally do enjoy the writing style, despite some odd passages which I'll provide the benefit of the doubt due to translation. There's an incredible gothic atmosphere, elevated by the often lovely descriptions and utter commitment to the goofy ass plot. But on that topic... this had zero grip on me aside from aesthetic appreciation. While cliches are not an inherent issue, this felt quite uninspired. And it should be telling that I'm a sucker for many of the devices here - like, the idea of the cemetery per se is completely up my alley. I just didn't enjoy the characters I guess? The protagonist was uninteresting enough plus some side characters made me want to chuck the book at the wall, in simple terms. Plus if my thick head can easily predict the “twist”, you know it's incredibly blatant.
In short - superficially quite neat yet the melodrama and storyline don't work for me. Feel like if I read this a while back I could've loved it, so I'm disappointed I didn't leap at the bandwagon sooner. Oh well.
consider my reading slump officially over, i tore through this shit in a little under 24 hours
oddly compelling and a damn fun read. the only place this falters is the romantic subplot, with scout being a bit underdeveloped yet it's not a major drawback. not sure how i'd classify this asides from some loose genre terms and obvious postmodern influences, but whatever this is, its completely my thing haha
also: the third lightbulb fragment was where this totally clicked with me. i wasnt totally invested on an emotional level but the described conversations with clio's father genuinely broke my heart.
above all i really like how Hall describes such mundane things in a genuinely interesting way, which puts a great edge to the amnesia premise. cool writing style for sure, i'd love to read more in a similar vein
I think this is a much better book than Evelyn Hugo; far better written, more cohesive, and more efficient. But unlike Hugo, this left me so cold. I was somewhat enjoying it at first, but it drags on a tad too long, and spent far too little time on the supporting cast. Couldn't tell any of the bandmates apart really. And Billy + Daisy's relationship felt so undercooked. Well, a lot of things here did. Honestly, just not a fulfilling read. But oh well
every book should end in the fashion this one does.
the second half is monumentally better than the first. the remainder is both blessed and (more so) cursed by the youthful idiocy of our protagonist, which works to an extent but just ended up as an annoyance. while the converging plot threads and extreme levels of drama made it feel like something out of a soap opera, the second half is honestly beautiful. gave me “a gentleman in moscow” vibes and that's like the highest praise I can give a work of writing. it still has its flaws but damn good book :D
