Archive for the ‘Books’ Category

Stormy Wuther

Wednesday, March 26th, 2008

I finished Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights today, the first time I’ve read the book. I enjoyed the first third and the end but most of the characters are either extremely depressing or annoying. By the middle of the book I found myself wishing she had quickly concluded the novel by having a horrific lightning storm blow in and destroy both houses in a fiery cataclysm.

She could have called it Brontë’s Inferno.

It’s One Of Two Things

Sunday, August 26th, 2007

There are certain characters in Persuasion that annoy me so greatly that I want to reach across, not just time and space, but the chasm between the real world and the fictional world, and throttle them. I’ve felt this before with some of Austen’s characters, mainly with those beholden to the idea of class and rank.

This suggests one of two things:

  1. Jane Austen was a really good writer to get me so engaged in the story and her characters.
  2. I have severe psychological problems.

Jane Austen was a really good writer.

Austentacious

Thursday, August 23rd, 2007

I’m about halfway through Persuasion, and of the 17 male characters introduced so far, 16 of them are named Charles. Everyone is either a sibling or cousin and yet they’re all courting or marrying or having kids.

I’m going to have to read the annotated Pride & Prejudice pretty soon just to have a clue as to what is going on in Jane Austen’s England.

Still, for a story without Wookiees, it’s been an enjoyable book so far.

Comma, Comma, Comma, Comma, Comma Chameleon

Monday, August 20th, 2007

I complained before about Jane Austen’s generous use of commas at the start of Sense & Sensibility, but she’s really outdone herself at the start of Persuasion. There are twelve commas in the first sentence alone.

Not to mention a colon, three semi-colons, and two dashes. I’ll be generous and not include the commas in the citation that completes the sentence since some of the commas are associated with dates.

I’m not sure that such wanton use of punctuation caused global warming, but it can’t have helped.

Austen Powers

Monday, August 6th, 2007

I’ve read two books by Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice (which I loved) and Emma (which I liked). I’m currently reading Sense and Sensibility — and it’s been a strange ride.

On the first page, of the first chapter, I wasn’t sure, but was fairly convinced, that, in all probability, Ms. Austen wrote with a lot, by which I mean an exceedingly large number, of commas. In fact, to be honest, while sitting there, on the train, on the way to Beaverton, I began to wonder, in my heart of hearts, if I could possibly, in any way, finish even the first few pages.

I decided to persevere in memory of Liz and Darcy.

I’m not sure if I got used to it, or if a severe comma shortage hit Britain and she was forced to conserve for the rest of the book, but thankfully I quickly found the rest of the book to be an easier read.

But I still found the first half or so of the book to be a struggle — the plot just seemed like P&P and Emma all over again, and I almost stopped reading.

But something happened after the middle of the book and I really started to enjoy the book. In fact, on the way home on MAX on Friday night, I read the book even when I could have worked on my laptop (a sure sign that I’m enjoying a book). I laughed out loud at a number of points and was just really enjoying myself when the train finally pulled into Lloyd Center.

So I started off my walk home in a good mood and then Vega4’s Life Is Beautiful came up on the iPod. It’s a beautiful uplifting song and so completely elevated my mood that I honestly had to force myself not to lift my hands to the heavens. Or give the world a great big hug.

It was the strangest feeling of euphoria I’ve ever felt, both from the intensity and the fact that nothing had really happened to bring it on. I’ve felt it out hiking before but never just walking home. If I had gotten home and learned that they were testing some new happiness gas on the MAX, I wouldn’t have batted an eye.

I’m not sure how much of that feeling I owe to the powers of Jane Austen’s writing, but I struggle enough with darker feelings that I treasure those beautiful little moments on the mountain top.