Book Review - "The Wild Duck"

"The Wild Duck" by Henrik Ibsen, a version by David Eldridge

My grade: A-

This is a short play, initially written by Ibsen in Norwegian. I have not read the original, but came across the Eldridge version of it. I found it very good, with very interesting personages, but in this case, I really wish it was longer and better developed. There is so much material here, and so many great directions that he has begun to go into, but has not fully arrived there. At least not for me. I would love to read a longer, more fully-developed version of this work, with a deeper analysis of the critical situations brought to life.

Book Review - "The Magus"

"The Magus" by John Fowles

My grade: B-

It goes without saying that this book is incredibly talented and very well-written. I won't even bother to say that Fowles has incredible control and skill as a writer. Rather, I will stick to the story and plot itself, wherein lies my problem with this novel/masterpiece. I, too, found the idea initially tantalizing: a magus, a series of unexplained strange events, strange people, etc. And I'll even admit that I remained well captivated through a good three-quarters of the book. But then it got boring. And just a bit (or a lot!) absurd/ridiculously over-the-top. I have to likewise admit: due to my poor knowledge of Greek mythology, many of the allusions were sadly lost on me. In this case, it would have definitely been of a lot of help, if not absolutely crucial to understanding this story.

I likewise found the ending disappointing. I wanted more, needed more. So many pages of mystery, to never really get a full answer. One almost gets the impression that Fowles himself got tired and bored with the story, and slapped an ending on there that wouldn't arouse too many questions; the ending itself is just as mystifying as the story. Perhaps you mythology experts out there could shed some light on all of this.

Book Review - "A Fairy Tale of New York"

"A Fairy Tale of New York" by J. P. Donleavy

My grade: A-

In some sort of way, this book reminded me a lot of "The American Psycho", although I didn't like the latter at all. This novel, however, is quite amazing on several different levels. Firstly, I have to admit, its abstractedness left me quite lost at moments, and I think to fully understand it, one would have to read the novel a few times. Having said that, though, it at (many) times captured reality so poignantly that I found myself struck by its candidness and simplicity.

Hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and wit is both a story and commentary on New York in particular, and the U.S. and humankind more globally. It's fast-paced, unusually written (e.g., the author uses no question marks, although there certainly are questions asked), exceptional and smart. My one criticism of it is the unnecessary abundance of sex and sexual perversion, and the vulgarity that accompanies that.

Book Review - "Architecture of the Novel"

"Architecture of the Novel: A Writer's Handbook" by Jane Vandenburgh

My grade: B-

As the title cleverly suggests, this book is about the art of writing. As is likewise suggested, the focus of the book is almost exclusively on writing longer narratives, and I found a lot of the advice offered not at all pertinent to writing shorter pieces, such as short stories. Having said that, there was nonetheless useful information and tips on writing, in general.

I was a bit put off with Vandenburgh's style of writing. I'm not sure whether she teaches, but she definitely speaks to the reader as one, with a somewhat patronizing tone. She is also very closed-minded in her vision of what a novel is; for example, she constantly demands on pointing out that a novel must resemble real life because otherwise people wouldn't read books. I beg to differ! It's boring to read books that resemble life too closely, and one of the reasons I read books, personally, is to get a feel of surrealism. I am curious now to read what Vandenburgh has to offer in the form of fiction.

Book Review - "Medea and Her Children"

"Medea and Her Children" by Ludmila Ulitskaya

My grade: C

I really must begin by saying that the translation of this book is quite bad. Instead of reading it in the original Russian (which I could have done), I for some reason decided to read it in English. It was quite obvious though in many places that the author was translating directly from the Russian, and the wording of certain sentences was not very 'English'-sounding.

Additionally, the original work is quite lacking. I almost feel like the author ran out of things to say, and pulled this book together out of thin air. She tells the story of about 50 different characters, who are only slightly connected with each other. Their stories are neither unique nor interesting, and one is left with this question: what is the point/message of all this? In the end, I found none.

The characters are likewise entirely undeveloped, maybe only partially because there are so many of them. Medea herself, who I guess is supposed to be the protagonist, is undeveloped. Not a single one is believable or true to himself, and not a single emotion is evoked throughout the whole thing. Even when Masha herself (here's a bit of a spoiler...) commits suicide, one only asks: who cares? My overall judgment: not worth your, or anybody's, time.

Are you a writer?

Don't know if any of you writers out there have (or had) this problem: I have a hard time calling myself a writer as I am yet unpublished. Since I work as a freelance writer, I do call myself that, but the implications are completely different for 'writer' and 'freelance writer'. It never fails to amaze me, however, how many people use the term (writer, that is) so freely. Every second person I meet is a 'writer'. And I always want to ask, "What does that mean exactly?" After all, if I play tennis once a month with a friend, does that make me a tennis player? Shouldn't we be more careful with the connotations and implications these titles give off? Or are titles too overrated in our drastically-politicized world?

The Search - FICTION

Is this where we search for one another, in unpaid bills and abandoned rooms? Does one's absence say more than one's presence? Are we so quick with judgement to look for flaws and silence praise?