Wilkinson88

Though it's potentially revealing in regards to the mindset of someone with suicidal thoughts and the play cleverly twists conventions by making it unclear whether she's talking with a doctor or to herself, the way in which the play was structured made it a slight challenge to fully engage with it. It reads more like a long poem. One could certainly argue however that was the point of the piece given how it can be looked at as Kane's real-life suicide note.
It is one of the few books I've read that captures the pain of mental illness, and I'd be curious to see how directors would adopt this as a theatre piece considering there are no stage directions given

This was disappointing considering it is listed on the Best American plays list and it's Pulitzer prize win in 1998. It pretty much has nothing to say over the traumas of sexual abuse of a young girl by her uncle and fails to show the emotional turmoil that Lil Bit would surely go through. There is also a notable lack of character development in which Lil Bit never seems to learn from her mistakes or any sort of character arc for anyone and thus I felt continuously disconnected from the play.

Oh and use of the choruses felt redundant adding very little to a plodding text

I liked the Stone Diaries a lot, although I'm wondering is it because it's one of the only books I've read that creates a juxtaposition between reality and fiction. As the omniscient narrator, Daisy clarifies that her accounts of events are sometimes exaggerated and often unreliable throughout the novel. Usually, an autobiography is accurate in telling the truth about one's own life. However, throughout the book, presumably Daisy's autobiography, we see letters and monologues from other characters, varying and contradicting points of view, and each character's inner thoughts, which someone writing a typical autobiography could not know. I did admire how Shields portrayed this.

On the other hand, I felt a slight removal from the story, possibly because there was a bit of warmth missing in Daisy's life; every critical incident seemed to be one tragedy after another, or it ended in tears. The prose was beautifully written, but when the story is grim to the point of parody, then I became disinterested.

Lovely ending, though.

It does what it says on the tin, and for that, I find it very useful. Still, I wish Penguin classics would have taken a leaf out of the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die collection by including a small essay with each title and why they believe it was worth adding. It's pretty barebones, just having the A-Z of author and title.

I'll give it an extra star just for that, though, since it's reminded me that Goodreads desperately desperately needs a sort by option on lists created on the site though it likely won't happen anytime soon.

A great ending elevates a stodgy and repetitive middle section. Also couldn't help but shake the feeling that Leo and Kira weren't the most intriguing of characters. Andrei's moral dilemma and his awareness of the corruption and the tyranny that engulfs his party is a more compelling subplot. Nonetheless, it sometimes works as a powerful commentary on a system that has no interest in people like them.

It reminded me of a Coen brothers film in how it explores the absurd reality we often find ourselves in, but it's also tinged with a sprinkle of sadness. The Logan brothers constantly reminded me of criminals from a Coen brothers film like Burn after reading. I don't completely love the conclusion to this, but I did appreciate how Brautigan successfully blended the varying tones and created something compelling. Looking forward to reading more of his stuff.

Unique and startling in how it dissects the mythology of Hollywood filmmaking. A novel that attempts to distinguish between how reality shapes the movies and how the movies shape reality itself.

Vikar is a troubled young man who arrives in Los Angeles in 1969, bearing a tattoo of his favourite film on his shaven head, trying to escape from a strict religious upbringing and an oppressive father through his love of cinema. The plot consists of his relationships with characters in the movie industry, his obsession with film and an encounter with a mysterious bit-part actress (Soledad) who may just be the unacknowledged daughter of Luis Buñuel.

The structure of the book is similar to a film ironically. Every brief chapter is built around a conversation, an observation, a Hollywood location, or a simple event. The episodic nature of the narrative perfectly complements the way a film could be cut and edited. Besides, as Vikar himself says fuck continuity. Needless to say, certain scenes are much funnier than others. A remarkably insightful discussion of movies between Vikar and a burglar whom he surprises in his apartment immediately comes to mind.

Also, cinematic references galore to the determent of the book, actually. Though I enjoyed reading what other characters perceive the directorial differences between a John Ford and Howard Hawks picture to be or how Bunuel invokes social commentary in his films, it became difficult to shake off the feeling that Erikson was showing off with his knowledge and opinions of film.

Lastly, the ending is pretty substandard, but I don't know how I would have concluded it either.

That said, I believe Zeroville is a very good book.

There are moments in this that definitely work. Schultz's and Theresa's relationship feels nicely done; for example, encapsulating the realist style that Baker is trying to evoke. And the ending is perfect would love to see how a stage production could reimagine it. However, it does feel a tad slight at times as if the barebones concept of five people in an acting class isn't quite enough to work for 90 + pages. Still, the theatre nerd in me mostly appreciated this.

Communication and the lack of it is, for me, the central theme of On Chesil Beach. The idea that Edward and Florence struggle to express their feelings to each other, afraid of the expectations ahead of their marriage, highlights the dangers of repressed emotions and poor communication, of how events and actions misinterpreted can have devastating consequences.

The prose is lyrically vivid, recounting Edward and Florence's miserable wedding night experience on a summer night in 1962. Florence's possible asexuality is a distinct contrast to Edward's desire to have an immediate sexual relationship. It is ultimately challenging to read since we know from the offset their relationship probably won't work.

Where I think On the Chesil Beach falters a little is the last section. The reader gets a good sense of Edward's later ruminations on the relationship, where he felt it went wrong and his own life. There is nothing from Florence's perspective contributing to my personal feeling that the ending felt rushed. McEwan could have expanded on parts of the story. Was Florence possibly asexual, or was there a hint of sexual abuse from her Dad? It was a bit disappointing this was never properly clarified.

A good read but not a great one.

Satisfactory epilogue to the series. It does struggle to justify its existence at times since Anabelle isn't a fascinating character. For the most part, Updike is really providing an update on what's happened in the area since Rabbit's death, e.g., what happened to Charlie Stavros and Springer Motors. Still, the ending is good, and I always enjoy how he interweaves cultural and political discussions of their time into the stories. In this one, it happens to be a heated Thanksgiving debate on the Clintons or American Beauty. Have to agree with Pru's thoughts on the latter btw.

When I studied Olivia Laing's The Trip to Echo Spring: Why Writers Drink in a contemporary literature class a few years ago, the lecturer Mike McCormack suggested Dead as Doornails as a similarly useful text in its exploration of how writers can be gripped by alcoholism. The only difference being was in his view, Dead as Doornails had plenty of humorous moments. Though certain sections in Dead as Doornails are definitely funny, thematically reading about how three of some of the most talented Irish writers of all time succumbed to the drink is pretty morbid stuff.

Still, the link between alcohol and creativity is something that has generally fascinated me. Could someone like Flann O Brien have written some of the unique forms of metafiction in At Swim Two Birds without Alcohol in his life? Borstal Boy is considered Beehan's masterpiece but would a sober Beehan have undertaken it? I'm speaking from personal preference here, but I wouldn't have minded if Cronin had explored this discourse in the book.

Also, the Soho section of the book didn't enthral me like the rest, but I initially thought the book's entirety was about these three writers.

I went in expecting a light read, and while I mostly got that, I also didn't expect a sometimes tender, delicate portrayal of a middle-aged man struggling to cope with the failure of a marriage and the death of his only child. A bit overstretched for the most part; however, there's a really good novella to 200-page story here, but certainly not a 350-page one.