More reading
Jun. 17th, 2008 10:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rebnessCatch-up on the last three books I have read:
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult
High school shooting and its aftermath. I have resisted Picoult for the longest time, but my boss loaned me this book, so I thought I might give it a whirl.
In sum: it was a compulsive read with some flashes of brilliance, even if the asides: “Every student wants to be popular… do you understand?” were patronising and trite.
It also suffered in comparison to We Need to Talk About Kevin, which, for all its faults, really made me think. There were no surprises for me in this novel, though I don’t regret reading it. Picoult is a competent writer and isn’t afraid to address social issues; it’s just a pity that I feel this one has been better explored by other authors. I wouldn’t be averse to reading more of her novels, particularly as my boss andmothergoddamn both say that other works of hers are much better, though I probably wouldn’t buy them.
First Love by Ivan Turgenev
Short, melodramatic novella written in the 1860s. Nice read and relatively lightweight for Russian literature from that period – it felt like contemporary English or French fiction in terms of style, rather than Russian. But it was pleasant enough and just what I needed before plunging into EM Forster next.
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
It’s no spoiler to say that the book is about a school of clones in a dystopian England who have been raised to have their organs farmed for transplants when they reach adulthood; that’s the blurb on the back cover. That, my friends, is as interesting as it gets. Instead of anything approaching even slightly thrilling, the book drowns in its own apathy.
It’s ten times more annoying and even more pointless than The Island, which at least had Ewan McGregor to compensate. And explosions.
What was the point of having clones that felt every human emotion – love, hate, jealousy… except that most primeval animal emotion – fear? These clones grow up accepting their fate. They mingle with humans and travel up and down the country, but never question the donation process. The unbelievable part for me was not the science fiction-esque plotline, but the sheer acceptance of the clones. Nobody ever thought it was a bit unfair? Nobody ever thinks to flee the country? Nobody, human or clone, questions anything?
There are suggestions that the novel is about our own apathy and resignation to the status quo. To which I say *eh*. I didn’t even fling the book at the wall (the fate reserved for Merrick and The Wisdom of Crocodiles) as it was just that grey.
Also: I am sick to the back teeth of dystopian fiction and am going to actively avoid it from now on – it is in the Surprise!Wars and Dead Narrators bin for this genre.
It’s ten times more annoying and even more pointless than The Island, which at least had Ewan McGregor to compensate. And explosions.
What was the point of having clones that felt every human emotion – love, hate, jealousy… except that most primeval animal emotion – fear? These clones grow up accepting their fate. They mingle with humans and travel up and down the country, but never question the donation process. The unbelievable part for me was not the science fiction-esque plotline, but the sheer acceptance of the clones. Nobody ever thought it was a bit unfair? Nobody ever thinks to flee the country? Nobody, human or clone, questions anything?
There are suggestions that the novel is about our own apathy and resignation to the status quo. To which I say *eh*. I didn’t even fling the book at the wall (the fate reserved for Merrick and The Wisdom of Crocodiles) as it was just that grey.
Also: I am sick to the back teeth of dystopian fiction and am going to actively avoid it from now on – it is in the Surprise!Wars and Dead Narrators bin for this genre.
Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult
High school shooting and its aftermath. I have resisted Picoult for the longest time, but my boss loaned me this book, so I thought I might give it a whirl.
In sum: it was a compulsive read with some flashes of brilliance, even if the asides: “Every student wants to be popular… do you understand?” were patronising and trite.
It also suffered in comparison to We Need to Talk About Kevin, which, for all its faults, really made me think. There were no surprises for me in this novel, though I don’t regret reading it. Picoult is a competent writer and isn’t afraid to address social issues; it’s just a pity that I feel this one has been better explored by other authors. I wouldn’t be averse to reading more of her novels, particularly as my boss and
mothergoddamn both say that other works of hers are much better, though I probably wouldn’t buy them. First Love by Ivan Turgenev
Short, melodramatic novella written in the 1860s. Nice read and relatively lightweight for Russian literature from that period – it felt like contemporary English or French fiction in terms of style, rather than Russian. But it was pleasant enough and just what I needed before plunging into EM Forster next.
