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Very glancing commentary. Nothing deep or all that interesting here, just proving I read *something* in all this time.
I have the feeling there's a book missing here, but damned if I can remember what it is. I know I re-read Snow Crash and Diamond Age, but I think there's still another ... The Stephenson books aren't being reviewed as I have read them before, and thus they aren't being counted. Hmm. Maybe it was one of the fantasy series books I try to avoid? I know I borrowed Wizard's First Rule, well before Convergence, which I generally liked. As it was midding a cover, I don't know the author. As it was a long time ago, I don't remember much of it, aside from the fact that the author dealt surprisingly well on the balance of good and evil, ever popular in fantasy literature. As in, there are sometimes things in a person's past that will inspire great works of badness, and madness, and they don't generally see themselves as *bad* so much as *wronged*. It was, at any rate, an interesting perspective.
Mary Barton, by Elizabeth Gaskell.
Mid-19th century English social commentary. The heroine was a litle bit typical, which I suppose should not have been a surprise, and the whole tone was a little bit preachy. Sometimes *very* preachy and moralising. And yet, I still liked it. Dealt with the lives of Manchester weavers during the 1840s, strikes, starvation, gender differences, age and ageing, cultural mores, courting, death, childbirth, blindness, scholarship in the lower classes ... generally had a little bit of everything, which is not really all that surprising. How can you get even closde to a reasonable portrayal of daily life without touching everything that might have affected a life then?
North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell.
Not a reference to the War Between the States/War of Northern Agression/American Civil War/Whatever other name you care to give it. Refers to the cultural differences found between the North and South of England in the mid-19th century. It sort of reads like a cross between Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, with Margaret being the somewhat bitchier version of Lizzie Bennet. Or, at least, if not bitchy then at least far prouder. I actually rather liked her in spite of all her occastional Victorian weakness, though by and large she was a surprisingly stong character for a Victorian novel. I believe this was also later in Gaskell's career, and shows a far more developed sense of character. It does, however, still preach. Incessantly.
Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys.
Profoundly depressing. It somehow made the generally dishonourable Rochester sympathetic, and Bertha quite understandable. Or Antoinette, as she was origianlly called. It's quite short, but powerful, and painful. Mind you, the cahracters need to be shaken until their teeth rattle, and told to shit up and listen to rach other, and trust just a little bit. And maybe stop being so damned stiff upper lip. But then, on at least Antoinette's part, her silence is understandable, in a clear, half-mad sort of way. The madness is understandable, though. It isn't so much a rip-off of Bronte's work as a complete novel oc its own, though there is a great deal more depth at the end if you have actually read Jane Eyre. Though, by the very end, ROchester's thoughts really just make him that much more of a bastard in relation to Jane Eyre. All in all, quite as good as I'd expected it to be.
I have the feeling there's a book missing here, but damned if I can remember what it is. I know I re-read Snow Crash and Diamond Age, but I think there's still another ... The Stephenson books aren't being reviewed as I have read them before, and thus they aren't being counted. Hmm. Maybe it was one of the fantasy series books I try to avoid? I know I borrowed Wizard's First Rule, well before Convergence, which I generally liked. As it was midding a cover, I don't know the author. As it was a long time ago, I don't remember much of it, aside from the fact that the author dealt surprisingly well on the balance of good and evil, ever popular in fantasy literature. As in, there are sometimes things in a person's past that will inspire great works of badness, and madness, and they don't generally see themselves as *bad* so much as *wronged*. It was, at any rate, an interesting perspective.
Mary Barton, by Elizabeth Gaskell.
Mid-19th century English social commentary. The heroine was a litle bit typical, which I suppose should not have been a surprise, and the whole tone was a little bit preachy. Sometimes *very* preachy and moralising. And yet, I still liked it. Dealt with the lives of Manchester weavers during the 1840s, strikes, starvation, gender differences, age and ageing, cultural mores, courting, death, childbirth, blindness, scholarship in the lower classes ... generally had a little bit of everything, which is not really all that surprising. How can you get even closde to a reasonable portrayal of daily life without touching everything that might have affected a life then?
North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell.
Not a reference to the War Between the States/War of Northern Agression/American Civil War/Whatever other name you care to give it. Refers to the cultural differences found between the North and South of England in the mid-19th century. It sort of reads like a cross between Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, with Margaret being the somewhat bitchier version of Lizzie Bennet. Or, at least, if not bitchy then at least far prouder. I actually rather liked her in spite of all her occastional Victorian weakness, though by and large she was a surprisingly stong character for a Victorian novel. I believe this was also later in Gaskell's career, and shows a far more developed sense of character. It does, however, still preach. Incessantly.
Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys.
Profoundly depressing. It somehow made the generally dishonourable Rochester sympathetic, and Bertha quite understandable. Or Antoinette, as she was origianlly called. It's quite short, but powerful, and painful. Mind you, the cahracters need to be shaken until their teeth rattle, and told to shit up and listen to rach other, and trust just a little bit. And maybe stop being so damned stiff upper lip. But then, on at least Antoinette's part, her silence is understandable, in a clear, half-mad sort of way. The madness is understandable, though. It isn't so much a rip-off of Bronte's work as a complete novel oc its own, though there is a great deal more depth at the end if you have actually read Jane Eyre. Though, by the very end, ROchester's thoughts really just make him that much more of a bastard in relation to Jane Eyre. All in all, quite as good as I'd expected it to be.
