We're Back Part III

You know those novels where you’re like, no one actually talks or thinks like that? Author, your pretentious prose is hurting your believability here (Austen and Franzen, we are looking at you)? Well, you cannot say that about The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. This book was remarkable in its voice and craft. While I do get tired of books showing that they “know math” by talking about the Monty Hall problem (we all get it, we all know you should switch doors, duh, let’s move on please), this books truly is excellent as well as painful.

Speaking of pain (and not in a good way this time), Oliver Twist is really long. Now, I adored Great Expectations; I found Little Dorrit surprisingly enjoyable; even Martin Chuzzlewit, if not a favorite was fun. But Oliver Twist was not fun. It was simply a slog.

Which brings me to Mansfield Park. Again, reading every single book this woman wrote did bring me the joy of Persuasion, which I likely would not have otherwise read (and I did love it; definitely my favorite), but it also brought me Mansfield Park, which I hated. I did not a like a SINGLE character in this novel. I wanted miserable things to happen to them. I did not care for the ending. The plot about the play made me want to hit myself with the book like I did with Pamela.

Sister Carrie. What a read! This book was banned for awhile, which seems comical now. Someone (I forget who; sorry) said that no one should be bothered with banning a book this bad. I think that is unfair. This book is hilarious. It is a seriously trippy ride. I just wish that the author had had the nerve at the end to make Carrie thrilled with her choices instead of experiencing all of this guilt and lack of meaning. Maybe I’m an awful person.

Oh man, The World According to Garp. I don’t really have anything to say. Irving can certainly create worlds. He can certainly create fascinating, complex, enigmatic characters. But yeah, that’s all I’ve got.

Oh dear. The Trick is to Keep Breathing has got to be one of the absolutely most miserable books I have ever read in my lifetime. While the title may be aimed at the (depressed and anorexic) narrator, it really is good advice for anyone trying to read this.

And last for this post: Gabriel’s Gift. I wanted more from this book. Since I’d be surprised if anyone reading this has read (or heard of) this book, quick summary: the story is about this teenage guy whose parents split up since the dad is a has-been rocker who never grew up and the mom is sick of it all. They live in London. The narrator/teenager is a twin, but the twin died. Through some fun magical realism, the family gets back together. But it sort of felt rushed to me and never got off the ground.