Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking: This book is a treatise on introversion, arranged carefully into chapters. The style combines formal academic work and storytelling typically found in fiction. Clearly the subject is very near and dear to the author's heart, and it shows. A labour of love, wherein the author invested significant time and effort into arranging arguments for introversion. From how it came to be, to how it has been diagnosed, to how one could harness this personality trait. One thing of note is being introverted/quiet is different from being shy - a distinction that most of the public and many scholars fail to grasp. Of course, as with any piece of academic research, there are bound to be areas of weaknesses/improvement. I saw the lack of arguments against introversion a striking gap. If they were included, and the author had found ways to refute or at least provide alternative explanations, then it would balance out the bulk of examples painting introversion in a golden light. To be fair, the author has highlighted a few instances where introversion works against people who have this trait (i.e., put them at a disadvantage). However, there weren't many examples and the author briefly, half-heartedly touched on them before quickly resuming her point that it's time for the world to stop discriminating against introverted individuals.
Eleanor & Park: There's something appealing about this romantic story involving the titular characters, even though the prose isn't the best and grammar rules aren't followed at all. Reading the narrative is like following two trains of thoughts - those of Eleanor's and Park's - that converge briefly before going separate ways again. One is forcefully reminded of one's growing pains as an adolescent: the vulnerabilities and insecurities, the raw emotions that run unchecked, as well as the egocentric belief that one is understood by none. The author doesn't mince words when she weaves the threads of domestic violence, school bullying and first love into a brutally honest tapestry of human suffering. A quote from the book would be illustrative: "Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something." Although the story is composed of short, simple and grammatically problematic sentences that don't even pretend to be of high literature, this formula seems to work well because the author is able to draw empathy from the reader through her liberal appeals to the heart, rather than the mind. If you are one who feels everything so very deeply, this one's for you.
Pride and Prejudice: I can't believe I'm saying this, but this novel was riveting. It made good use of its title, explaining how both pride and prejudice tainted the way the characters saw the world (and each other). The male lead was thought to be proud, while the female lead was prejudiced against him. In it there were explorations into the different kinds of love. Very family-based, not so much on romantic love until the very end. Perhaps in late 1700's/early 1800's, individualistic values have not surfaced yet. The bulk of the novel is composed of long, structurally complex sentences which necessitates slow, close and careful reading. I had to hold the first part of a sentence in short-term memory as I read on, and to comprehend the entire sentence I must piece together the first and second parts. It seemed to me that the author beat around the bush, and that miscommunication mainly drove the plot forward. What made a very strong impression on me, though, was the sibling relationship/sisterhood between the female lead and her elder sister.
Wuthering Heights: The author threw all decorum out of the window and introduced characters that were in every way very detestable, had no manners and were quick to resort to violence. None of that Victorian propriety befitting ladies and gentlemen of her own era, or common civility among humans. Nearly all her characters behaved like beasts, hurting each other physically and psychologically, and the narrators were far from trustworthy. Small wonder this novel hasn't received as huge acclaim in the modern day as say, Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice. The author wrote it in such a way that discouraged the reader from connecting with her characters. In all fairness, though, the author did touch upon heavy topics like racism, discrimination and the effect of environment in shaping an individual's personality. She stabbed at fantasies like elopement, all-consuming love/infatuation and happily-ever-after, portraying realistic alternative responses as well as brutal consequences of one's supposed romantic action. The whole novel was anti-social and of course, there was no happy ending. It was a rather startling, slap-in-your-face kind of break from the usual romance that you'd expect from a Victorian novelist. If I were to preface the book with anything, I'd borrow the following verse from Philip Larkin: "Man hands on misery to man / It deepens like a coastal shelf / Get out as early as you can / And don’t have any kids yourself."
Persuasion: Compared to Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion is more mature and the author's prose has improved. At least, the sentences aren't too chunky and could be easily understood. However, Persuasion is not as ground-breaking and brilliant as Pride and Prejudice. The story's pace plods along, and the front chapters are tiresome/boring because nothing really happens. Once it gets to the last few chapters though, a burst of flavours emerges where the protagonists' romance finally blossoms. That said, it didn't give me that satisfaction even though the lead characters end up being together.
Station Eleven: My attention was attracted by the synopsis of this post-apocalyptic tale and the cover image of glowing tents beneath a starlit sky, when I first knew about its existence. Many writers have trodden the beaten path of dystopian horror containing strange beings/monsters like vampires, zombies and the such. Most of them ended up predictable, bland and tiresome. Now, this particular author used a different way of narrating a world where human civilization has collapsed. She made her world as real as possible, without ostentatious fireworks of big-scale damage. I hate to say this but some Canadian stereotypes (the author is Canadian by birth) have found their way into the novel (well, mostly in the beginning). In some ways it's refreshing to read a non-UK/US author: the feeling's like finally, a break from the same literary tropes and plot devices. In other ways it's befuddling to read this novel because there is no climax, no recognisable structure that I was expecting. It got me thinking: "okay, all that leading up to what?" I scratched my head wondering whether I wasted my time following the developments of the narrative or the author had just pulled some sort of masterful trick. I believe it's the former.
The Magician's Land: The author's strength as a storyteller shines, and having read all the books in the trilogy, I can confidently say that this one's the best piece. His prose is pure and fluid, so beautiful that it keeps you reading. Compared to the previous two installments, there are no grand illustrations of magic herein, nothing new that would excite the reader and certainly fewer instances of homage to Rowling, Tolkien and Lewis. However, the author did tie up loose ends/minor plot points from earlier and then wrap up the whole narrative neatly. There is an almost surgical precision to his way of developing the narrative in this book.
On the Road: Set in the late 1940's, Kerouac's autobiography/fiction tells about the road trips taken by Salvatore (Sal) Paradise and his best friend Dean Moriarty, focusing on the people and places they encountered while being on the road, off the road and at the end of the road. I find that Dean is the driving force behind the narrative: without Dean there wouldn't be any trips. Not because Sal couldn't drive a car, but he lacks the passion, energy and curious wonder that Dean displays. Dean is Sherlock to Sal's Watson. Dean observes and presents grand philosophical soliloquies, while moving the characters around and getting them do things. Kerouac uses a lot of verbs in the narrative and he's good at describing actions, more so than writing about sceneries or people's psychologies. I particularly like how he writes about people making music and also about Dean manoeuvring vehicles. However, this focus on behaviours, actions and outer displays leaves the reader in wonder of the characters' personality and motivations. I figured out pretty early that Sal is introverted, Dean is extroverted (wildly so), and that Dean is reckless, irresponsible and doesn't care about others. For all his fascination about people and humanity, Dean doesn't overtly show that he cares about his wives and children. Then again Kerouac might have intended Dean to be so, because Dean grew up without a father and thus hadn't learnt how to be one. That aside, there are some things about Kerouac's writing that put me off: lack of proper paragraphs and proper character introduction. He writes in an off-handed manner, as if he's gossiping, and characters pop up out of nowhere, fade into background and resurface suddenly. There are redundant sentences as well, where he summarises a scene and then when I thought he would move on to the next, he elaborates on that scene. The paragraphs are long and contain many main ideas - difficult to follow and honestly, this didn't excite me nor sustain my interest in reading it (but persevere I did).
The Silkworm: This is the second book in a series of detective novels published by J.K. Rowling under the pseudonym "Robert Galbraith". I've read her Harry Potter series from cover to cover, and it's reassuring to find traces of her old characters and writing style in The Cuckoo's Calling and The Silkworm. If she'd been holding herself back in the children fantasy series, in this whodunit series she unleashed the full force of her writing. I like the way she re-introduced her protagonists Comorran Strike and his assistant Robin Ellacotte, giving them more depth by embellishing their back stories. Their trains of thought were shown as they went about solving a murder mystery. I detected a bit of Christie and Doyle in the way Rowling conceal important clues in plain sight (innocent and innocuous they might seem), then reveal in a grand flourish the killer in the final few chapters. Apart from that, I find that Rowling has a vast, deep vocabulary as she was able to put to words those things in life that we encounter or feel but don't know how to describe. I shudder to think what was going through Rowling's mind as she put in grisly, bloody bits into the novel. Brilliant but also twisted. The pace is just right, enough of mystery and curiosity, enough of action to keep the reader's interest. In fact, I like how the chapters were organised: they generally ended with the point-of-view character leaving, going to sleep or finishing something in one way or another. Neat. The story is grounded in reality even as the turn of events got more bizarre. Some examples would be: Strike simultaneously pursues cases other than the main one to pay bills; Strike keeps tabs on his expenses like taxi rides and pub lunches so that he won't go broke. The concluding paragraph that served as the novel's ending was a lovely surprise.
