Amsterdam – Ian McEwan

Book #81

Reviewer: Don

An intriguing read, Amsterdam is better than its blurb made it out to be.

I self select books from a narrow range, and it is fair to say that Amsterdam is not something within that range, so it was with some trepidation that I picked up this novella. Happily, although it took a couple of pages for me to click to the style of the author, I very quickly got drawn in and ended up reading the book in one sitting. Ian McEwan has a clear and concise ability with words, and I found it an easy book to read and visualise from.

The story opens at the funeral of a woman and continues with the lives of three men who were her lovers at various times in her life. Although already known to each other, in the weeks that follow the funeral the lives and fortunes of these men become inextricably entwined, and they each find themselves facing a decision that defines them. The final climactic scenes are well written and draw the various strings of the story together, and like many good stories, I found at the end that I wanted more.

There weren’t many things I disliked about this story, however I was left feeling that I would have liked it in longer form with more character development, both for the main protagonists and for the catalyst in the story, Molly. I could easily see this as a full length novel.

Overall, I liked Amsterdam. It’s a good read, and something that can easily be tucked into on a quiet Sunday afternoon.


A Tale of Two Cities – Charles Dickens

Book #883

Reviewer: Carol

This is a classic which would have been better enjoyed by my sister who loves Dickens. I found it very hard to “get into”, due to Dickens’ language usage and long narrative style. As a result, it took me much longer to read this 370 page book that it should have taken. However, once I got used to the style and language (and the story picked up), I finally began sailing through and finished it quickly (from about page 200 onwards). It is the tale of the French Revolution nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, so the “two cities” are London and Paris. It is said that Dickens never understood nor liked Paris and loved no city except for his own London, having been born within the sound of Bow bells and, therefore, a Cockney. He does, however, capture the truly terrible human madness in the streets of the French Revolution resulting in the insatiable thirst of Madame Guillotine. It reminded me of many other dark historical times all across the world when one never knew who would be accused and taken away in the night, to be executed after a kangaroo court trial the next day. Dickens uses splendid language to describe the all too human bloodthirsty impulses of mob mentality and how this particular cruelty rears its massive head whenever and wherever events of the day cause a disintegration of the controlling governing forces of a country or region or singles out a scapegoat. It is said that Dickens’ simplicity as a Londoner always and only and his lack of studying the French Revolution in any depth gave him the literary freedom to write convincingly about the human tides which swept France, brutally butchering any and all in its way, for Liberty et Revolution! He is a genuis at describing people in such perfect detail to make them come alive in the pages. He encased Madame Defarge, for example, in a frightening and solid unswerving power which is only explained in the final pages of the book. Whenever he writes of her, you almost feel a chilly wind go through you — a strong instinct to be careful around her with her dangerous watchful silence and infernal knitting. I came to very much enjoy Dickens’ combinations of words to give the reader an immediate feeling for the person described and an understanding of the situation at hand. For example, when one character is uncomfortably confronted by another who the first has deceived for a very long time, Dickens describes the unease of the trapped rogue thusly: “…he changed the leg on which he rested, as often as if he had fifty of those limbs and were trying them all; he examined his fingernails with a very questionable closeness of attention…[and] he was taken with that peculiar kind of short cough requiring the hollow of a hand before it, which is seldom, if ever, known to be an infirmity attendant on perfect openness of character”.

We all know this book by its opening line: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way — in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.” It is the tale of two cities and Dickens is miraculously able to describe the people and events of the city so foreign to him actually better and with more true feeling than the rather bland events of his beloved home city.

This is a book that I had always MEANT to read and I am glad that I was finally “forced” to do so. It is worth the time that it takes to fall into its style and story line.

The Afternoon of a Writer – Peter Handke

Book #212

Reviewer: pixidee

Translated by Ralph Manheim
Translation copyright 1989 by Farrar Straus and Giroux Inc.
New York
86 pages

Inside Cover

The fear haunting the nameless writer in Peter Handke’s new novel is the fear of losing contact with language and of not being able to go on with either his work or his life. After a morning at this desk-where, for him, a sentence put to paper is an even and the surest connection to the world-he ventures out for a walk.

The writer’s afternoon odyssey takes him from the centre of the unnamed European city to its outskirts, to a peripheral region comparable to the fringe of dreams of the frontiers of language. He is alternately relieved to be out in the world, where the first snow is falling and the early-December light is variously reflected, and vexed: in effect, on trial. What is the business of the writer? Is there any such business in this century? Who can claim to be an artist and to have made a place for himself in the world? But on this day the writer also has an appointment with one of his translators. An older man, he was once himself a writer, and today is a happy precisely because he is no longer, one. A translator, he says, has the certainty that he is needed.

Both lyrical and philosophical, The Afternoon of a Writer is storytelling about the problem of storytelling. “Carry on,” the writer urges himself as he finally prepares for bed. “Portray. Transmit. Continue to work the most ephemeral of materials, my breath; be its craftsman.”

My Verdict

I found this rather boring and hard to read, it was better when I was in complete silence as it was so descriptive that you can build the image of who he is and where he is and what he is doing and feeling in your head

Pet Peeves

Too slow and not much happening unless you like compiling a very detailed picture in your head which is hard to do at home with 2 kids hanging around or at work with noisy truck drivers yapping in your ear.

Summary

If you want a short read it’s good for that being only 86 pages long, nice even chapters so you can read a little before putting the book down. If you like a book to be exciting this probably isn’t the one for you.

I’d rate it 2.5 out of 5


Ada – Vladimir Nabokov

Book #380

Reviewer: mum2threecheekykids


I found this book rather confusing at first due to the story jumping in time.  The central character is Van Veen, he has an affair with Ada but her younger sister Lucette is in love with Van.  There is a surprising end for one of the sisters.
Overall the book was interesting but a bit confusing as most the conversations in French were translated but not all of so some of the story is lost due to not speaking the language.


Virgin Soil – Ivan Turgenev

Book #842

Reviewer: Mum2threecheekykids

Translated by Rochelle S Townsend

The story starts off slow, picks up a bit in the middle and there is an unexpected twist at the end. You need to have an understanding of Russian politics in the late 1800 to really get into the book also some of the important conversations were in French and not translated so you lose some of the story if you don’t speak French. Apart from those issues it was a good book.