I approached this as background reading because I enjoy encountering utopian visions and wanted to see what the original held. Not that More's Utopia I approached this as background reading because I enjoy encountering utopian visions and wanted to see what the original held. Not that More's Utopia is the first picture of a perfect (if unachievable) society, but he did coin the word and made a significant entry into the genre. I found it surprisingly readable given its 1516 Latin-translated-to-1901-English origins. It is not a novel but a dialogue where one open minded inquisitor solicits the tale from a traveler from Amerigo Vespucci's trip to the new world. That traveler, Raphael, stayed five years in a commonwealth founded by a leader named Utopus. That land, Utopia, is described in detail and in sections on geography and demography, rulers, trades and manner of life, society, traveling, slaves and marriage, military, and religion. I was surprised at some of the themes discussed: the abolition of private property, euthanasia, animal cruelty, capital punishment, among others. This must have been radical at the time.
My edition had an introduction by Henry Morley. It was brief, gave just the smallest bit of biographical information on More, and offered a few explanations of how the characters in the story related to real life persons in More's life. It was not helpful in understanding the social, religious, or political conditions More was writing under, for or against. Some quick online reading suggests that there is still debate over exactly what More intended with the book. Some label it a satire while others focus on the "utopian" aspects of the work. This is one of those books that you read for the sake of experience. It is not something to read simply for pleasure and really ought to be studied if you want more than a superficial exposure. I wouldn't mind rereading this some day with an extensive commentary (or even a comprehensive commentary without More's text)....more
The first few chapters held some real surprises for me. I'd approached this because of BrStoryline: 2/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 3/5 Resonance: 1/5
The first few chapters held some real surprises for me. I'd approached this because of Brunner's science fiction credentials and the book's nomination for the 1966 Hugo Awards. I wouldn't, however, classify this as science fiction. There's a little technological invention of the Cold War variety - supposed developments the other side had and was employing, but nothing that wasn't rumored to already be true then in the 1960s. Hardly enough to count as science fiction. What it was, instead, was a third world political drama. I can't find evidence for it on a quick search, but Brunner must have based his Vados on real world Brasilia. I thought that was great; I'd read an excellent history of the city before, and it would be fascinating point from which to build up a speculative fiction story. Also the main character's profession is in civil engineering, and I was enthusiastic to see the character complete the tasks Brunner puts him up to. Finally, the writing in the early chapters set this apart from general science fiction writing. It was contemplative and playful, informed by a writer who obviously had experienced the lifestyle of a traveler. There was a common language and familiar observations that synced with the reader who had similar experiences. For the first few chapters, then, I was wowed with the possibilities. I thought I had stumbled onto a mostly overlooked classic, and I was keen to settle in and enjoy the experience.
Unfortunately the book does not live up to many of the initial expectations. The science fiction was superficial to the point of nonexistence. Aside from this being located in an imaginary city in the near future this was pretty standard literature. The profession of our character and his task in the book were not the product of research or experience; the depth and information I was looking for never materialized. The writing turned functional, and the unique observations of the expat were all used up early on. There's some attempts to make this a serious book, 1960s message fiction with real villains and real world problems. There were some really provocative questions raised, namely: 1) to what extent do natives "own" or have "rights" to their native land beyond or in opposition to immigrants who give up everything to make it their home? 2) how do you share very limited and non-divisible national treasures with a large population? These are the kind of themes that serious literature would take on, and at times this posed as serious literature. It was posturing, however, and the questions are used instead to direct us to the political drama. This turned as internecine and sensational as one would expect with a novel with little else going for it. At the end of the book it turned out that the author did have a point. I scoffed at the message as I read the final chapter, thinking that the Brunner lost control of the tale. The author's note at the end advised me that what I was considering ridiculous, was, in fact, quite purposeful, and had required a great deal of plotting to achieve. So my final impressions changed from ridicule to befuddlement. I don't know why Brunner wanted to do what he did, but I was neither entertained nor impressed....more
Behold a work that falls into a category I rarely encounter: an artistic gem and engagingStoryline: 4/5 Characters: 5/5 Writing Style: 4/5 Resonance: 3/5
Behold a work that falls into a category I rarely encounter: an artistic gem and engaging narrative which remained steadfastly off-putting. Silverberg's portraits of youth are exceptional. A chapter at a time, first-person perspectives rotate through the four college students' vacation and their road trip adventure. Our author gives an intimate look at their inner confidence and buoyant hopes yet manages to simultaneously provide the critical distance that allows the reader to see them for what they are: whimsical, starry-eyed adolescents. That ever-so-valuable ability to show two things at once was evident in the plot and pacing as well. The reader is invited along to experience the day-by-day happenings of their life-changing exploits, while at the same time we are constantly reminded of the smallness and brevity of a trip conveniently scheduled during a university's spring closing. Elsewhere Silverberg did not make the effort. He frequently presented the inner monologues and public dialogues of our four fully in their racist, homophobic, and sexist biases. There was little effort to abstract out from these. Whatever tolerance our characters did exhibit was subverted by Silverberg with his insistence on showing that those accommodations were themselves prompted by spite, personal uncertainty, and concern for reputation. A perverse delight pervaded the telling, where everyone despised his origins and identity, and we readers were supposed to savor their inner turmoil. Likewise Silverberg relished tales of sexual conquest and degradation. Debasing dalliances between consenting adults, incest, pederasty, orgies, rape, and partner swapping. These were zoomed views, showing us the experiencing and their effects on each of the four but never offering the compensating wider focus. The point seemed to make the deviant normal, the delinquent acceptable; and the presentation of it all was to the reader as entertainment. I could never make this final step demanded by Silverberg. The acerbic prose and biting scenarios I could respect, the complexly disaffected identities I could relate to, and of the mildly mocking narration of their quest, I could appreciate. I couldn't make that final step, however, to carelessly enjoy the degeneracy that undergirded what seemed like every flashback, every pit stop, every day in the tale. So there it sits, a brilliantly written work of haunting experiences made to seem casual.
Stylistically, this is one of the best Hugo-nominated books I've encountered. Substantively, it is one of the most obscene things I've ever read. Of the now seven Silverberg books I've finished, this is undoubtedly his masterpiece. I do not understand how it was nominated for either the Hugo or the Nebula, as it was not science fiction. There is some hint of the fantastic in there but only insofar as dealing with legends and the possibility that some truth might underlie them....more
Every now and then, I get the gumption to better myself, to reach out and try to be more cultured. I did not have a very academically demanding high sEvery now and then, I get the gumption to better myself, to reach out and try to be more cultured. I did not have a very academically demanding high school experience, and most classic literature references are still foreign to me. Recently, when I wanted to have a more direct understanding of what an "Uncle Tom" was, I read Uncle Tom's Cabin. And I was floored. I thought it an amazing book with characters to forever remember. Sometimes that gumption to better myself is rewarding. Sometimes not. My quest to know the "Faustian bargain" was one of the "not" times.
My Faust experience was dominated by continued reminders of my ignorance. I surprised at the outset to learn that there is not a first and foundational Faust tome. Faust, a reputedly real-life charlatan, was a popular legend for approximately 200 years before Goethe got to him. Christopher Marlowe has a much earlier written version and Thomas Mann a much later one, though when Faust is mentioned, it is probably Goethe's version that comes to mind. My next dip into revealed ignorance was the realization that this was written in verse and set as a play. Poetry and plays do not read as novels (this too was a new realization). I do not know how to judge or appreciate this kind of work; transitions, plots, development - they all function differently in this form, and I simply don't have the background to get the most out of it. My final bout of ignorance was less surprising; I don't know much about the literary styles, social mores, fashions, debates, or historical figures of late 1700s Germany. Goethe was writing from and to specific audiences, foes, traditions, and styles, and none of it was readily grasped by someone like myself, simply coming to get the Faustian bargain story. This is a work more to be studied than to be casually read.
Some comments on the David Luke translation. I haven't read any other Faust translations, so I cannot offer a comparison. The verses were surprisingly approachable, contemporary without losing the feel of antiquity. The notes were helpful in understanding some of the obscure references and bizarre scenes, although I would have much rather have had footnotes instead of endnotes. The lengthy introduction (as well as the notes) were more concerned with chronicling the changes of Faust, Part One over the 30 plus years Goethe worked on it. The translator worked with and studied the extant drafts and editions from before the 1808 official publication. Much of the commentary is provided to help the reader understand what Goethe wrote and changed, when he did it, and why he might have done so. I would much rather have had more information on legend of Faust itself, to better understand what Goethe's contemporaries knew of it, what Goethe incorporated and left out, and what his peers, readers, and emulators took away from his contribution to the legend. There's probably a Faust book out there somewhere that does exactly that. The David Luke translation was not it, however, and I am not passionate enough to read any further to find out more. If you are new to and interested in Faust, as I was when I began this, I would suggest something far simpler (like Wikipedia) so as to get an impression or something far more complex (a work on the legend of Faust itself or a Goethe Faust with more extensive commentary).
If you want the Faustian bargain and not the whole story, I've copied the relevant section here below. It is about five pages of text - a relatively small portion of the whole - approximately verses 1630 to 1790, right about 1150 words in total. Mephistopheles is the devil, Faust is...Faust:
MEPHISTOPHELES. Stop playing with your misery, That gnaws your vitals like some carrion-bird! Even the worst human society Where you feel human, is to be preferred! I don’t of course propose that we Should merely mingle with the common herd; I’m not exactly a grandee, But if you’d fancy getting through Your life in partnership with me, I shall with pleasure, without more ado, Wholly devote myself to you. You shall have my company, And if you are satisfied, I shall be your servant, always at your side! FAUST. And what is your reward for this to be? MEPHISTOPHELES. Long years will pass till we need think of that. FAUST. No, no! The Devil has his tit-for-tat; He is an egoist, he’ll not work for free, Merely to benefit humanity. State your conditions, make them plain and clear! Servants like you can cost one dear. MEPHISTOPHELES. In this world I will bind myself to cater For all your whims, to serve and wait on you; When we meet in the next world, some time later, Wages in the same kind will then fall due. FAUST. The next world? Well, that’s no great matter; Here is a world for you to shatter— Smash this one first, then let the next be born! Out of this earth all my contentment springs, This sun shines on my sufferings; First wean me from all earthly things— What happens then’s not my concern. That’s something I’ve no wish to hear: Whether there’s hatred still or love In that remote supernal sphere, And who’s below and who’s above. MEPHISTOPHELES. Why, in that case, be bold and dare! Bind yourself to me, begin life anew: You soon will see what I can do. No man has ever known a spectacle so rare. FAUST. Poor devil! What can you offer to me? A mind like yours, how can it comprehend A human spirit’s high activity? But have you food that leaves one still unsatisfied, Quicksilver-gold that breaks up in One’s very hands? Can you provide A game that I can never win, Procure a girl whose roving eye Invites the next man even as I lie In her embrace? A meteoric fame That fades as quickly as it came? Show me the fruit that rots before it’s plucked And trees that change their foliage every day! MEPHISTOPHELES. I shall perform as you instruct; All these delights I can purvey. But there are times in life, my friend, When one enjoys mere quiet satisfaction. FAUST. If ever I lie down in sloth and base inaction, Then let that moment be my end! If by your false cajolery You lull me into self-sufficiency, If any pleasure you can give Deludes me, let me cease to live! I offer you this wager! MEPHISTOPHELES. Done! FAUST. And done again! If ever to the moment I shall say: Beautiful moment, do not pass away! Then you may forge your chains to bind me, Then I will put my life behind me, Then let them hear my death-knell toll, Then from your labours you’ll be free, The clock may stop, the clock-hands fall, And time come to an end for me! MEPHISTOPHELES. We shall remember this; think well what you are doing. FAUST. That is your right. This bet, which I may lose, Is no bravado. I must be pursuing My purpose: once I stand still, I shall be A slave—yours or no matter whose. MEPHISTOPHELES. At the doctoral feast I shall display My willing servitude to you this very day. One small request—I am sure you’ll understand; It’s just in case—I’d like a line or two in your own hand. FAUST. Poor pedant! Must it be in writing too? Is a man’s plighted word a thing unknown to you? My spoken word must rule my life’s whole course For ever: is this not enough? The world streams on with headlong force, And a promise arrests me. What strange stuff Of dreams composes us! A pledge that binds Is a thing rooted in our minds, And we accept this. Happy is the man Of pure and constant heart, who can Regret no choice, no loss! But parchments signed and sealed Are ghosts that haunt and daunt us; the word dies Upon the very pen we wield, And wax and leather tyrannize Our lives. Well, devil, which is it to be: Bronze, marble, parchment, paper? Answer me: What pen, what tool, what chisel shall I use? The medium is yours to choose! MEPHISTOPHELES. Come, come, sir, this excited flood Of rhetoric’s quite out of place. The merest scrap of paper meets the case. And—for your signature, a drop of blood. FAUST. If that is all you want, I’ll willingly go through With such a farce to humour you. MEPHISTOPHELES. Blood is a juice with curious properties. FAUST. But you need have no fear that I will break This bond. To strive with all my energies— Just that is what I undertake. I have been too puffed up with pride: I see now I belong beside Merely the likes of you. With scorn That mighty Spirit spurned me, Nature’s door Is closed, the thread of thought is torn, Books sicken me, I’ll learn no more. Now let us slake hot passions in The depths of sweet and sensual sin! Make me your magics—I’ll not care to know What lies behind their outward show. Let us plunge into the rush of things, Of time and all its happenings! And then let pleasure and distress, Disappointment and success, Succeed each other as they will; Man cannot act if he is standing still. MEPHISTOPHELES. Nothing shall limit you; if you wish, sir, To sample every possible delight, To snatch your pleasures in full flight, Then let it be as you prefer. Enjoy them boldly, grasp at what you want! FAUST. I tell you, the mere pleasure’s not the point! To dizzying, painful joy I dedicate Myself, to refreshing frustration, loving hate! I’ve purged the lust for knowledge from my soul; Now the full range of suffering it shall face, And in my inner self I will embrace The experience allotted to the whole Race of mankind; my mind shall grasp the heights And depths, my heart know all their sorrows and delights. Thus I’ll expand myself, and their self I shall be, And perish in the end, like all humanity. MEPHISTOPHELES. Oh, take my word for it, I who have chewed For centuries on this stale food— From birth to death a man may do his best, But this old leavened lump he’ll not digest! We do assure you, such totality Is only for a god; perpetual light Is God’s alone, me and my kind He has banished to darkness, and you’ll find You men must live with day and night. FAUST. Yet I swear I’ll achieve it! MEPHISTOPHELES. Bravely said!
The part of me that approaches a book with hope of entering into a work of art was able tStoryline: 1/5 Characters: 5/5 Writing Style: 4/5 Resonance: 1/5
The part of me that approaches a book with hope of entering into a work of art was able to find something of that here. Superbly drawn characters and relationships, full of faults yet simply trying to pass through day-to-day life. Real beauty in the prose, turns of phrase and gentle ironies. A rich story confronting poverty and discrimination.
The part of me the that remains a skeptic: critical or, at the very least, demanding, found this to be unsatisfying. A soap opera, largely confined to a single apartment building over the course of a single day. A "protagonist" whose identity largely revolves around his long-term patronage of a specific prostitute and lecherous peeping on the neighbor's underage daughter. No coherent point, no plot, no buildup to a finale.
As an exposure to Indian culture, characters, and daily urban life, this had merit. It would have been better presented as a play or a painting. ...more
There are good reasons for this book having come to my attention. I am interested in EaStoryline: 2/5 Characters: 4/5 Writing Style: 4/5 Composition: 5/5
There are good reasons for this book having come to my attention. I am interested in East Asia, enjoy stories of intercultural (mis)understanding, have a penchant for writings critical of capitalism (and business and marketing), and appreciate dry humor. So much of this worked in just the ways I had hoped and expected. The descriptions conveyed through the search for authentic America were not only poetic but resonant. Images of Japanese housewives trying to learn about America from television were guiltlessly funny. The visits to Walmart and encounters with downhome goodwill were buoyant and heartwarming. The very premise of the book, a Japanese television show featuring "real" American wives and sponsored by American meat exporters, was comedic from the outset and required little elaboration in order to ridicule the author's targets. These parts of the book were insightful, wholesome, empowering, beautiful, humorous, and fun.
There was a second half to the book that undermined those many positive elements. For every convivial story of friendship, there was a tale of suffering and depression. For every sharp and quirky look into Japanese-American interactions, there was a moralizing encounter with the author's notion of progress. In some of these areas, this was merely my preference. I did not want to read about menstruation, miscarriage, the novelty of sex without condoms, child abuse, sexual assault, and rape. It was often more than my own reading preferences, however. Some books enlighten and open up with juxtaposition. This was not one of those cases. The serious themes here were surely worth being discussed, but in this book they clashed with the quirky, lighthearted, and playful ambience the author so effectively created. This was not a story where joy could only be explained by overcoming adversity or fun could be had by freeing oneself of burdens. The really mean material here was an addition, not a corollary. In my more mean-spirited interpretation, it was added to make the book more dramatic and longer. In my more generous one, perhaps it was something the author needed to express. It was the wrong place for it regardless.
Whatever one thinks about the contrast of the carefree with the serious, the most serious flaw in the book was the polemic. Many of my life choices and personal beliefs are consistent with the author's argument, thus she should have found a sympathetic reader in me. This read, though, like a story where the author had an idea halfway through and decided to change the direction and very essence of the tale. After reading the author interview at the back of the book, I learned that this was exactly the case. This turned into a young adult tale of burgeoning political activism. The main character (which was, according to Ozeki's interview, mirroring the author's experience as she researched the background material for the book) abruptly becomes aware of an under-discussed societal wrong. She meets the like-minded, affirming and encouraging her in her new convictions. I did think the book had strong characterization. We were being shown a naive figure who was having a later-in-life, coming-of-age moment where she took interest in and wanted to change the world. Our heroine became passionate and dogmatic, an uncompromising champion for a good cause. This character was superbly drawn, showing the credulity of the youthful, the partiality of the rebel. Recently confronted with alarming facts, entirely uninterested in nuance, attentive to only confirming evidence, a hypocrite to the core, our protagonist is the epitome of the newly aware progressive with a cause. Ruth Ozeki, however, was not writing a satire of the liberal or an incisive look at the activist. The book synopsis calls My Year with Meets a "modern-day take on on Upton Sinclair's The Jungle," but Sinclair knew that Jurgis Rudkis was a fool (albeit a pitiable one). Ozeki was presenting a protagonist whom we should cheer and applaud. Ozeki herself was a believer. The book then descended into a sleuthing thriller (it dawned on Ozeki later in the writing, she confesses) complete with conspiracies, cover-ups, and bad capitalists that also happen to do terrible things to wives and children. It was an awful conclusion to such a promising start.
Sometimes a novel with both great elements and terrible features simply balances out to be a mediocre book. The masterful switching between perspectives and points of view, the shrewd intercultural musings, the lyrical scenes of joy were all, however, ruined by ill-fitting narratives of despair, a dilettante's tirade, and an incongruous Nancy Drew-like finish....more
The Not-Too-Revealing Synopsis: What does a bored, widowed, sixty-something year retired corWriting Style - 4/5 Characters - 5 Storyline - 2 Resonance - 2
The Not-Too-Revealing Synopsis: What does a bored, widowed, sixty-something year retired corporate lawyer do with sexual opportunities, lots of money, an awkward relationship with family and no schedule?
The Review:
Begley deftly relates the difficult-to-sympathize-with woes and responsibilities of the senior paterfamilias with disposable income and he does so with a subtle, candid humor. His writing style, specifically the lack of any quotes with conversation and the confusion between what is said and thought, is initially distracting but gives the read an additional dimension once one gives up attempting to decide if something were truly uttered. Were Begley's writing style, and even better - his perspective and ability to convey it - devoted to something more than a veritable awkward-highschool-guy-trying-to-lose-his-virginity salacity this would have been a great book. As it is, this is only a good book. I recommend this to anyone who who can appreciate a well told story despite the erotic theme....more
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