Wantok

I think I'd go a 3.5 if it was allowable on here. While Dostoevsky's penchant for engaging and incredibly realistic dialogue is often on full display, to me it often felt winding and a little much. I guess it's always maybe prideful of someone reviewing to say things could have been trimmed from the novel, since it's the author's artistic choice to leave things in, but to me a lot of the book felt superfluous. I think it's evident that a lot of these characters would later be condensed in Karamazov. Lebedev and General Ivolgin are different shades of Fyodor Pavlovich, Prince Myshkin and Kolya are two different sides of Alyosha, Keller and Gavrila are shades of Mitya, etc. So all that being said, a lot of the dialogue ends up feeling repetitive, though Lebedev and the General are genuinely entertaining characters, and in all respects the purpose is to keep using the Prince as a foil compared to more depraved beings than him, it becomes somewhat tiresome, to me anyhow.
On a different note however, the fourth part is much more engaging to me, and redeems the book quite a bit, though the ending is rather abrupt and sudden. I can also see how the length of the novel is justified by how it must orchestrate and set up such a profound test of the virtuous Myshkin. Such a specific conundrum the Prince runs into, it's an interesting corner that Dostoevsky paints him into. At the same time the ending seems to almost unravel the Prince's character. Anyhow, I also love Dostoevsky's persistent use of misquotation to make his dialogue more real, also a big help to read annotated copies, it makes the characterization deeper I'd say. Still enjoyed the book, but it's evident to me I might have been better off going to Crime and Punishment before this, though again, I don't see this as a waste of time by any means.

A delightful odyssey, a joy from start to finish. It's strange, it reminded me a bit of Murakami's writing style, the narrative continuously builds, almost every paragraph holds some new revelation about Milkman's universe and everyone associated with him. Different from Murakami of course is entirely believable characters everywhere, especially the females that constitute the backbone of the story and in a way Milkman himself. “What harm did I do you on my knee?” Continues to ring in my mind for some reason, thinking about the disturbing visions of both Milkman's parents. Continuously conflicting the reader with whether or not to sympathize or condemn the hateful Macon Dead, and be revolted or endeared to deranged Ruth Dead, in the end both are deeply flawed and fearful, nightmarish to read about. The same with Milkman's other two main compatriots, Hagar and Guitar, excellent characters who display nearly opposite forms of mania, Hagar's life dependent on the existence and love of one, Guitar's life dependent on vengeance and the killing of random others. Milkman himself to me became an enigma, I wasn't sure whether to pity him, cheer for him, scold him or deride him... But I saw myself in him all the same. It truly is a coming of age story, and I think the lesson finally learned in the end, spoken by the Judge Holden of the novel Pilate (who herself is, I think, the victory of Morrison's novel outside of Guitar's anti-villainism), is in her final words. Milkman finds community, the meaning of his life, when his life is already half over. Maybe I can find that a little sooner. This will be a fun reread someday.

A complete, punch for punch magnum opus. Nabokov weaves the imaginative romantic images of Lolita into the evasive word games of Pale Fire and creates an incredible journey. His writing style always arrests me with it's effortless yet acrobatic syntax and rhythm but this reaches a new level. Truly one of the most significant works of literature in the english language, it is one of the most intimate depictions of love and inspires a realistic and revelational vision of age and time. I can't think of many other experiences that have both given me new insights into the nature of love, while at the same time making me realistically contemplate the end of my life. A book to be studied and reread for decades.

Absolutely incredible. A novel that I think is likely more potent now, in an age where depictions of violence are more common place than ever before, than it was when it first came out. To me that's one interesting part of reading about reactions to the book when it first came out up until the early 2000s even, the general feeling that it's too violent. If anyone has kept up with television in the past 10 years (Game of Thrones, Breaking Bad), I'd say they could handle Blood Meridian. There are still scenes in the book that will make you shudder, which I think is a bigger testament to this being written in 85 and McCarthy's foreknowledge of the continued evolution of America's obsession with brutality.
The book is of course so much more than the violence McCarthy depicts. To me it's the most brutally realistic vision of the romanticized West I've ever encountered. There are no heroes, moral codes belong to each man's interpretation of his place in the universe, it is not a land of inviting sunsets and enchanting adventure but brimstone and chaos.
And yet amid this intense realism McCarthy blends in the fantastic, the nephilim Judge Holden, pulsating depictions of the desert and seemingly surreal moments the kid experiences. Characters that feel as though they're summations of western archetypes (the protagonist as the epitome of the wanderer without a name, the expriest now ironically turned cutthroat, the crazed bandit leader), this is the balancing act McCarthy walks, he sets before us these concepts or archetypes we've become familiar with in the western canon and subverts them by making them abundantly realistic. These assumptions of character we take as larger than life are presented as no more than gravely flawed and tormented human beings.
This makes for perhaps the most engaging literary experience I've ever had, I've never felt a book so effortlessly flow off the page before yet McCarthy has a rhythm, diction, syntax and verve that makes this addictively entertaining from the first chapter to the epilogue.

I only read Hedda Gabler and then The Master Builder, Hedda Gabler was the one I wanted to read. Very good, Ibsen loves unspoken contracts and assumptions. In Gabler it's done incredibly, with Hedda being maybe the most indirectly ruthless character I've encountered. In the Master Builder it sort of feels more of the same, with a lot of different strands up in the air and becomes rather taxing to take in. I'd imagine Hedda Gabler would have me glued to my seat in the theater while Master Builder would have me checking my watch and wondering how much longer this would be going on.