Apart from the expected misogyny and transphobia, etc... the use of language and meter in this was really quite good. To be able to pack so much weight into so few words!
Well, it appears On The Road is no longer my "Most Disliked Critically Acclaimed" book, for The Room has stolen the title. To paraphrase Truman Capote's review of the former, the latter is "less than typing".
I don't know how anyone praises this rambling stream of consciousness that reads like an unedited first draft pulled from the trash bin then thrown back in it once its author sobered up.
If you're looking 12-page violent and explicit-to-the-point-of-fantasy gang rape or a 4-page scene on squeezing a pimple, then pick this up. But it's no more haunting than some incel rant on 4chan (nor better written).
But it's not just the content. The writing style is shit. The (anti-)structure is shit. It's all shit. Maybe people in the 70s thought half-page line indents and ALL CAPS and an abandonment of punctuation was art. That this book is edgy or daring because it's …
Well, it appears On The Road is no longer my "Most Disliked Critically Acclaimed" book, for The Room has stolen the title. To paraphrase Truman Capote's review of the former, the latter is "less than typing".
I don't know how anyone praises this rambling stream of consciousness that reads like an unedited first draft pulled from the trash bin then thrown back in it once its author sobered up.
If you're looking 12-page violent and explicit-to-the-point-of-fantasy gang rape or a 4-page scene on squeezing a pimple, then pick this up. But it's no more haunting than some incel rant on 4chan (nor better written).
But it's not just the content. The writing style is shit. The (anti-)structure is shit. It's all shit. Maybe people in the 70s thought half-page line indents and ALL CAPS and an abandonment of punctuation was art. That this book is edgy or daring because it's so unconventional. It's not. It's just bad.
I only finished reading it in order to lambast it fairly.
As a horror lover and frequent reader of historical fiction nothing could pique my interest quicker than a story of witchcraft in the 1700s. It brought to mind the Witch movie by Robert Eggers in that Isabella was not a witch when she was accused and tortured. What she was, was desperate. What wouldn't we do to keep a loved one healthy for a little bit longer? Isabella was desperate to keep her father among the living. She was desperate to be free of an unwanted marriage to a vile and foul excuse for a man. It seems the good and godly people of Blackfriar see nothing wrong in bearing false witness against her, as long as it serves their purpose. When her friends and neighbors turned their backs on her, she found acceptance elsewhere. Together with the Lady of the Hill she will seek her revenge on those who …
As a horror lover and frequent reader of historical fiction nothing could pique my interest quicker than a story of witchcraft in the 1700s. It brought to mind the Witch movie by Robert Eggers in that Isabella was not a witch when she was accused and tortured. What she was, was desperate. What wouldn't we do to keep a loved one healthy for a little bit longer? Isabella was desperate to keep her father among the living. She was desperate to be free of an unwanted marriage to a vile and foul excuse for a man. It seems the good and godly people of Blackfriar see nothing wrong in bearing false witness against her, as long as it serves their purpose. When her friends and neighbors turned their backs on her, she found acceptance elsewhere. Together with the Lady of the Hill she will seek her revenge on those who have tormented her, and I can still hear their screams!
Well, here goes any respect my friends might've had for me: I mostly found it... irritating. It did get better as it progressed, and Towles's writing is exquisite--the main reason I continued reading--but for the most part it just felt heavyhanded. Never actually schmaltz, but too often I felt like Towles was coming awfully close to the baster. Maybe I'm too sensitive; maybe Towles blends in just the perfect hint but, like the merest trace of cilantro to those allergic, it's too much for my palate.
Speaking of palates: our protagonist, Mary Sue I mean The Count, what a palate! Possibly the most discerning and refined one in all of Moscow, eliciting bravos from top chefs. But there's more: he charms his way out of a firing squad; gains the trust of a precocious nine-year-old girl who shows him the deeply hidden secrets of the Hotel; he makes such a …
Well, here goes any respect my friends might've had for me: I mostly found it... irritating. It did get better as it progressed, and Towles's writing is exquisite--the main reason I continued reading--but for the most part it just felt heavyhanded. Never actually schmaltz, but too often I felt like Towles was coming awfully close to the baster. Maybe I'm too sensitive; maybe Towles blends in just the perfect hint but, like the merest trace of cilantro to those allergic, it's too much for my palate.
Speaking of palates: our protagonist, Mary Sue I mean The Count, what a palate! Possibly the most discerning and refined one in all of Moscow, eliciting bravos from top chefs. But there's more: he charms his way out of a firing squad; gains the trust of a precocious nine-year-old girl who shows him the deeply hidden secrets of the Hotel; he makes such a first impression on a haughty movie star that she seduces him then obsesses over him after she departs. He is doggedly sought out by high-level intelligence agents in need of his diplomatic and cultural knowledge. The Fates repeatedly swoop down to rescue him in dire moments of need. The authorial wish fulfillment, in short, is strong in this one. Unfortunately, there isn't that much substance to the characters--any of them--nor the story. I never felt like I understood their inner lives. They all act on cue, responding to external stimuli in accordance with the roles they've been assigned and the backstories we've been shown. They frequently utter profound, insightful Deep Truths--the kind that make this reader pause, reflect, sometimes even feel like underlining--but there's just this ever so slight greeting-card feeling about them. Like the author penned them, perfected them, then built pages of scaffolding around them so they'd sound just right at just the right time. All nice and pat, in much the way that real life tends not to be. Or is that just me?
Then there's the whole (mild spoiler alert) Les Misérables aspect of the second half. It was tender, often moving, but there was something that didn't feel right about it and I think I've just realized what (major spoiler): the Count is no Valjean; the Bishop no Javert. Hugo makes us live his characters, their impossible moral choices, their struggles to do Good. We understand them, feel for them, even suffer with them. Both are driven by powerful inner forces which most of us can intimately relate to. The Count, though, comes off merely as a shallow fop wanting to be admired; the Bishop, a petty bureaucrat much like the Work Preventers I used to deal with at LANL, whose only solace in their sad meaningless lives is the power to say no to anyone trying to do something useful. Towles's beautiful prose notwithstanding, neither really elicits my sympathies. And I think that's what bugs me: the similarities are only superficial. Everything important, everything that makes a Capital-Ess Story, is hollow.
This broad class of book (folk navigating polite society with a world history backdrop) is not something I typically reach for. I came for Towles though, whose [b:You Have Arrived at Your Destination|49665863|You Have Arrived at Your Destination|Amor Towles|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1563468097l/49665863.SX50_SY75.jpg|72182622] was my favorite entry in Blake Crouch's Forward Collection. In his notes about the collection, Crouch gushed about Towles in general and this book in particular. The praise is all well-deserved: the writing is excellent, the characters beautifully drawn. There are memorable/quotable lines overflowing from this book, and little risk of an idle highlighter.
This is a magnificent novel. I truly enjoyed the tale. Much like the writings of James Hilton, this author offers an outstanding and enjoyable study of human behaviors, motivations, emotions, and dynamics.
I plan to read more by this truly wonderfully skilled author.
I'm going to copy my review from The Sinner Book 1, because it is so apt:
I absolutely MUST have a hard copy of this book. It is a necessity for any library that also has Dante's Comedy. This is the only novel that has ever held a candle to Dante Alighieri. I didn't expect prose, but I got it, and I loved it. This is a book I will come back to again and again.
If you like prose (that isn't nearly as inaccessible as Dante) and you love a good fable steeped in religious stories and lore, you'll love this series.
This is one of my favorite movies, so I decided to read the book. I will tell you this, this author writes like nothing I have read before, I at first I hated it. Once I got used to his cadence and delivery, however, I came to appreciate his (very) unique writing style. It wouldn't work anywhere else, but for some reason it works here. I like the story, it's just as dark and depressing as the movie, but it adds to the movie. It's not one is better than the other, rathe they compliment each other very well. I'd recommend reading this if you're a fan of the movie, or even if you just like a good junkie love story :-)
This was an enjoyable read but I can't say I was as taken with Count Rostov, Aristocrat Superhero, as others on here (but he appreciates all the wine! he has superhuman manners!). I guess I never felt bad for him. The adulation this book has been receiving is odd to me but to each his own.