North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell

This is the second time reading North and South, and like many of my literary opinions, they have mellowed over time. Before I found it a slog and a bore, I was unimpressed by such quibbling drama as 'a crisis of conscience', social unrest in the factories, and whether Margaret's unmaidenly falsehood would be explained in context to Mr Thornton. Now, I live for all that stuff. But I run on ahead! The novel is about the clash of two cultures - the rural, idyllic South vs the rugged, industrial North. When young Margaret Hale is uprooted from beloved Helstone (Hampshire) and moved to Milton (Manchester), she is predisposed to a bad impression. The reason for the move seems ludicrous to modern eyes. Her father, a pastor at Helstone, reads too much subversive literature and allows doubts about his faith concerning the Church of England to set in. He therefore brands himself a dissenter, giving up his position and comfortable living to move to the manufacturing hellhole. He could have just kept quiet and towed the line like the rest of us, but then, I could write an entire essay on how Mr Hale is one of the most pathetic men in English literature!

Once established in Milton, the family make the acquaintance of Henry Thornton, a local cotton mill owner. Magaret is prejudiced towards him for being a common and arrogant tradesman. Mr Thornton finds her to be stuck up and naive, yet he is drawn to her beauty. Does this plot sound somewhat familiar? It's clear to me that Gaskell must have been heavily inspired by Pride and Prejudice, the similarities of the antagonistic romance are too vivid. I must add, the constant references to Magaret's 'taper-like fingers' are quite creepy! The story is engaging and full of turns, but Gaskell often falls into 'misery porn', with an almost comical series of character deaths falling thick and fast on one another in order to humble the protagonist out of her conceit. One of the main tensions of the novel is between masters and men, the factory owners and hired hands who work the machines, but I still find the politics of strikes and unions rather wearisome to read about. That, and the working class characters like Higgins and his ailing daughter, can come across as irritating and stereotypical. Overall though, I enjoyed my reread of this classic book and found much to admire.

Rating: 3/5

Sanshirō - Natsume Sōseki

I didn't know anything about this book before I started reading it, but Sanshiro was more or less what I expected it to be. The story tells of Sanshiro, a young man leaving behind his sleepy country life to attend university in Tokyo. It's a slow paced coming-of-age novel that takes place over a short period of a year or so. A classic country mouse comes to the big city and is overwhelmed by the fast moving life, the traffic, the bold women, and strange new customs. After an initial near erotic encounter with a woman on the train, Sanshiro is condemned as a 'coward' for not making a move on her, setting him up as a passive protagonist who mostly observes the world but doesn't partake in all it has to offer. University is something of a disappointment at first as he tries to find his feet, but gradually his social circle broadens as he meets other students, professors, and their relatives.

Sanshiro is also a love story, but one characterised by continual failures and disappointments. There is a sense of futility, but also realism, to all the characters' undertakings. Sanshiro does not end up marrying Mineko, the girl he is in love with. His friend Yojiro's campaign to get their professor friend, Hirota, a teaching placement at the university backfires and fails. Sanshiro's studies are not conducive to greater knowledge or scholarly ambition, and there is also the sense that he does not manage to escape his provincial past or fully integrate with Tokyo culture. There is also a grisly suicide early on the novel which acts as a bad omen. The narrative is a loose account of Sanshiro's first year, with each chapter acting as a slice-of-life, philosophical insight into his world. Some of the haiku-like descriptions of sky, light, shadow and trees come across as clumsy and borderline absurd, but I'm sure they're beautiful to read in Japanese.

Rating: 3/5

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold - John le Carré

I was not looking forward to this book after the mess I made with Tinker, Tailor, Solider, Spy, but soon after starting it, I realised my blunder. It was Penguin's fault for releasing Tinker first, as that book actually comes after The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. I didn't understand Tinker because much of the complex world building and characters were laid out in an earlier book I hadn't read! What a difference a few explanatory lines made. This time round, I knew who the supposed antagonists were, what the mission was, and what much of the terminology meant. That's not to say The Spy isn't a demanding and complicated book, it certainly gives the reader a lot of credit in not being an idiot, but I felt it was a much tighter and more comprehensive read, also a real page turner!

Alec Leamas is a washed up British agent spiralling into alcoholism, depression, and irrelevancy after returning from Berlin following a failed extraction of another spy. His boss, Control, gives him one last job and a chance to redeem himself, which he willingly takes on. What follows is a tense and twisty narrative of subterfuge, betrayal, double dealings, and intrigue. Nobody can be trusted, plans within plans within plans are made, and the characters move through a gritty, grey underworld where human emotions are suppressed in favour of cold and mechanical decision making. Despite the monstrous ruthlessness of the spy world, at its heart is a very human story, as Leamas gradually submits to his better nature. A depressing, though rivetting read, hampered only by sometimes painstakingly tedious technical explanations of banking processes.

Rating: 3/5

 

The Idiot - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I flew through Dostoyevsky's The Idiot in just over two weeks, a record for a book of this length, especially when compared to the three and a half months it took me to finish The Brothers Karamazov. This probably has more to do with me being on a three week holiday with unlimited downtime than it does the book's readibility. Even so, the novel is eminently readable, of that there can be no doubt. Unlike the other of Dostoyevsky's novels I've read, this one seemed much less bogged down with long philosophical digressions and homilies on religion, although they are still there. At the risk of running ahead of myself, this is probably the part of Dostoyevsky's writing that I dislike the most - when the narrative is pushed aside so that one character can deliver his lecture, whilst everyone else just sits there in silence as it runs on for multiple chapters. This happens no less than three times in The Idiot. If anyone tried to pull this self-absorbed stunt in real life, they'd soon lose their audience or be escorted out of the room.

Now though, some words on the actual story. Prince Myshkin is an epileptic on his way back to Russia after a long convalescence of many years in Switzerland. Upon arriving, he immediately becomes one of many suitors to a beautiful but fallen woman called Nastasya Filippova. The prince is a ridiculous, naive, and child-like figure who is supposed to resemble Christ - Dostoyevsky set out to write a novel about a perfect person, completely free of sin and ego. This 'holy fool' type is seen again in the character of Alyosha in The Brothers Karamazov, whilst Nastasya is resurrected as Grushenka, and the consumptive teenager Ippolit as dying Ilyusha. It was interesting to see proto versions of these characters in an earlier book. Instead of managing to create a flawless and selfless being, the Prince becomes an infuriatingly passive and bloodless character guaranteed to infuriate modern readers. Always guaranteed to do the wrong thing, he will have you tearing your hair out in despair. The tale is marked by Dostoyevsky's characteristically grim and nihilistic tone, so don't expect a happy outcome.

Rating; 3/5

My Family and Other Animals - Gerald Durrell

This book was an absolute delight to read, and a real blast from the past reminding me of the animal adventure stories I devoured as a child, particularly the Willard Price books. Before David Attenborough entered the natural history scene, Gerald Durrell was my favourite naturalist, and the man who inspired me most as a child. My Family and Other Animals is his semi autobiographical account of a five year sojourn on Corfu with his family, vividly painting the beautiful Greek island environs and the many animals he tries to tame and keep as pets during this period. The genre is part wild writing, part comedy, as he treads the line between affection and gentle mockery of his family members. It's pretty obvious which parts are exaggerated or made up for comedic effect, but it never detracts from the fun. After all, who doesn't embellish childhood memories or imperfectly remember the exploits of their youth?

The book shines most when Durrell goes into lengthy accounts of his eccentric extended family - the animals themselves. He has a real knack for making commonplace creatures extremely interesting, unique, and well drawn. He can write pages and pages on familiar creatures yet never be boring, displaying them in ways you've never imagined, and leaving you wanting more. Of particular note is the battle between a gecko and a praying mantis in his bedroom. The human characters are no less interesting, as he meets a myriad of eccentric personages who end up becoming close family friends. His environments are also superbly realised, so much so that he became responsible for a surge in Corfu tourism, which quite sadly, probably contributed to ruining many of his Edenic locations. A very human, spirited, and often hilarious book, I'd recommend this read to anyone with even a passing interest in nature.

Rating: 5/5

The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Writings - Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe is a master of the Gothic form, and this edition brings together some of his more memorable poems and short stories. Hailed as the grandfather of horror and the founder of the mystery genre, I really enjoyed what he had to offer. But this review must necessarily deal with the book in thirds, divided as it is, into three parts. To begin with, we'll glance over his poetry. The Penguin Clothbound book brings us seventeen of them, ranging from the instantly recognisable (and excellent) The Raven to some of his lesser known sonnets. I have to say, The Raven stands head and shoulders above the rest on account of its sheer lyricality and quotability. 

Then we come to his short stories, the meat and bones of the book, and here lies the main interest. Many of the titles are well known, but with the exception of The Oval Portrait, which I remembered from sixth form college English class, I had never read them. I was pleasantly surprised by many, and underwhelmed by a few. The Murders in the Rue Morgue stood out as being notable for its excessive graphic violence, and also for being the first ever detective story. We even have a proto, gothic Sherlock Holmes in the character of Le Chevalier C. Auguste Dupin. The Fall of the House of Usher and The Telltale Heart, however, were not as exciting as I'd hoped, and were over before they really began. It's a shame Poe never properly turned his hand to novels, as I repeatedly felt myself wanting more from his short stories. I'm aware he did publish one.

But now onto the final section, the 'Other Writings' part of the book's title, and here lies the problem. Poe may be adept at crafting spine-tingling tales of horror, but by all accounts he was a terrible little man in his personal life and who, if he were alive today, would be rightly branded a paedophile. I'm therefore not hugely enthusiastic about reading his miscellaneous scribblings, and quite honestly, I'd rather the volume didn't have them. Not only do they take up precious shelf space, but they also make for incredibly dry reading. Reviews of books I've never heard of, behind the scenes on how he created The Raven - it's all mathematics! - and even essays on furniture, magazine composition, and lots of slandering of his literary peers which really betrays his poisonous personality. Avoid the last section if you aren't cursed with completionist tendencies.

Rating: 4/5

Dubliners - James Joyce

After struggling to complete Ulysses last year, I was not looking forward to another of Joyce's offerings. I was assured by an Irish friend that this one was more readable, and fortunately it was. Dubliners, not to be mistaken with the popular Irish folk band, is a collection of fifteen short stories set in the titular city of Dublin. The book is an anthology of realist 'slice of life' experiences of the middle classes. There is no particular plot to speak of, being little other than moments frozen in time, which I actually rather enjoy. There is a framework of ageing, with the early stories dealing with childhood, then through to middle age, and finally old age and death. There is also a consistent theme of drinking culture, which affects the characters' lives in various ways. I preferred the earlier stories to the later one, and those centering on personal, rather than civic life. 

As with any short story collection, there will nearly always be favourites, but a special shoutout to early entries 'An Encounter' and 'Araby.' The former is about two schoolboys who encounter a perverted old man whilst playing truant, and masterfully captures the familiar experience of being in a dangerous situation as a child. 'Araby' is about a boy taken with his friend's sister, and his first precocious stirrings of infatuation as he fails to secure a gift for her. The more depressing, cynical stories of middle age include the worst of the bunch 'Ivy Day in the Committee Room', which is just boring old men discussing politics. Big yawn to that one. The last story is the longest, of novella length, and is a melancholy reflection on mortality which I found quite moving. Overall, not a bad book, and one of Joyce's earliest.

Rating: 3/5

Four Tragedies - William Shakespeare

It occurred to me that, as well-read as I'm becoming in English literature, my knowledge of Shakespeare has always been woefully deficient. Having only covered The Merchant of Venice, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, and A Midsummer Night's Dream in education, there were far too many I'd missed out on. It always felt that Shakespeare was a school text, to be studied but not read for personal entertainment. Coming to Shakespeare on my own terms, without a teacher breathing down my neck and telling me how to interpret it, has been an uplifting experience. 

I started the journey with one of his most famous plays, Hamlet. Whilst being informed of the plot through popular culture, I'd never actually watched it performed. The play was thoroughly entertaining, full of instantly recognisable plot points and immortal quotations. I was amazed by how many of them resided in this play alone. I capped off the read by watching what I consider the quintessential adaptation - the Kenneth Brannagh film. 

Next up was Othello, one of my sister's favourites. My raw reaction to the play was that I hated Othello and loved Iago. With all the academic noise about racism, I was not expecting Othello to be quite so gullible, unlikeable, and villianous. Desdemona's father was right all along. I also finished this read with a Kenneth Brannagh film version from the 90s. So far, so good, now onto King Lear. 

I expected to love King Lear, I ended up only liking it. All the elements of a good tragedy are present - scheming characters, Sturm und Drang, violence and wanton wickedness. But it's also one of his more chaotic plays. Characters scream and bellow into the wind, are stripped naked, have their eyes gouged out. However, it seemed messy, confusing, and dare I say - contrived? I wanted more 'Game of Thrones' and less Jeremy Kyle. "I've got these dor-tuhz yeah?" I must say, the film adaptations for Lear were horrendous. The only one I stuck with was the 2018 Hopkins version, and I despised the modern setting.

I ended with a re-read of the Scottish play, and it remains my favourite by far, only appreciating it more with each exposure. It's as heavy and unsettling as ever. Last night I woke up covered in sweat from night terrors, muttering "Thane of Cawdor" over and over before I came to. The play is also far shorter than I remember, it being a highly compact performance with all the subplots stripped out. Granted, this probably wasn't the only version knocking around. The haunting tale of bloody ambition and doomed prophecy has some of the most exquistively constructed lines in the history of literature, and remains emminently quotable. I ended with a rewatch of the best film adaptation - Roman Polanski's.

It's difficult to give an overall rating for a volume that contains books of differing quality, but when it comes to Shakespeare, his tragedies are all great in their own right. I have only one negative point to make, and it pertains to the academic footnotes, introductions, and format of this volume. Although a nice looking Penguin clothbound edition, the clowns who wrote the academic fluff have ruined it. Many of their footnotes are hairbrained observations, pointing out the extremely obvious and compressing Shakespeare's actual verse into only half the page. This made the book much thicker and heavier to carry than it had to be. Their introductions were an absolute bore to read.

Rating: 4/5

 

The Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux

When I was younger, I was utterly obsessed with all things Phantom. Like many before me, my gateway was Andrew Lloyd Webber's most popular musical of all time, but it wasn't long before I was hunting down the book and the 1925 silent film starring Lon Chaney. I cannot remember when I read the novel, but I must have been a teenager. Revisiting it a second time, and having forgotten most of the finer details, I was struck by how utterly weird it is. Gaston frames the tale as a detective novel, which soon morphs into a gothic horror/romance about a deformed and demented musical genius haunting the bowels of the Opera Garnier. The plot of the musical adapatation must be familiar enough to most people, though perhaps not the book itself. 

In my edition's introduction by Jann Matlock, it is stated that the Opera Garnier does not encourage Phantom questions on its guided tours, nor does it sell related merch in the gift shop. This was in 2008. A current internet search reveals the opera house to have subsequently walked back on their reticence and undermined their former integrity by fully embracing the tacky pop culture tie-in. Something to be said for the inevitability of selling out for profit.

But why do I call an association with a book I've rated 4 stars as tacky? Because it surely is! The plot itself is some badly written, melodramatic French pulp designed to sensationalise impressionable readers. The love triangle between singer Christine Daae, viscount Raoul de Chagny, and the titular Angel of Music, Erik, is perhaps the weakest part of the novel, despite being its core. In fact, I'd argue this story is but a flimsy pretext in which to clothe the far more interesting character of the opera house itself.

Before Reddit and 4chan, and before the increasingly popular 'Backrooms' phenomenon, a logical evolution of urbexing, there was Gaston Leroux and his surreal depictions of the opera house's hidden world. He enthusiastically describes the building's subterranean passages leading to liminal spaces and impossible deathtraps. Is there really a lake beneath the opera house? Yes there is, but more of a flooded cistern where firemen are taught to swim in the dark. Are there corpses? Yes, the bodies of political prisoners have been found buried there. Are there hidden passages perhaps linking to the Paris catacombs where a murderous incel might conceivably make his home? Where does fact end and fiction begin? These are the questions that Leroux plays with in his novel and invites the reader to explore.

The descent into the underbelly of the opera house takes up a whole third of the book, and is clearly Gaston's main interest. To modern readers, it even reads like a classic dungeon crawl, as Raoul and his guide, the enigmatic Persian, encounter terrifying creatures straight out of a Dungeons and Dragons monster manual. There are the devil-like boilermen keeping the furnaces alive, a floating, blood red moon face followed by a swarm of sewer rats, a felt-hatted stalker with a highly classified identity (Gaston is often ridiculous), not to mention the eerie 'siren of the lake.' Raoul and the Persian traverse a seemingly endless obstacle course behind the artificial facade of the stage props, passing through trapdoors, squeezing through narrow cravasses, and eventually ending up in a highly imaginative torture chamber. The sheer absurdity of it all is a delight, and an aspect of the tale sadly muted in Webber's musical. Erik (the Phantom) is a master of illusion, and his nightmare realm, strongly evoking Dante and Virgil's descent into Hell, showcases but a fraction of his twisted ingenuity. 

Highly recommended to lovers of all things liminal and phantasmagoric. If you can see beyond the silliness, there is much to discover and appreciate.

Rating: 4/5

My Brilliant Career - Miles Franklin

If I were to sum up this book in one callous sentence, I'd write 'ugly Australian girl has a shit life as a skivvy in the outback.' Hailed as an early example of feminist literature, My Brilliant Career is a sardonically titled account of a young woman's attempt to live life on her own terms within the harsh, soul destroying conditions of rural New South Wales in the 1890s. Although set a long time ago, the language seems relatively modern, so I originally imagined it to be set much later.  Sybylla Melvyn is the eldest daughter of a wealthy cattle rancher who falls on hard times after a disastrous career decision. Sunk from an esteemed and elevated circle into impoverished conditions, she dreams of a better life more in line with her artistic aspirations. Sent to live with her grandmother, she once again experiences gentility, and in her improved surroundings meets the affluent Harold Beecham, who offers his hand in marriage.

Sybylla is not like other 19th century heroines though! She is a wild tomboy who no man can control. She is also constantly reprimanding herself for being ugly, which while not exactly a novel concept (The Woman in White also features an ugly heroine in Marian), it was unconventional for a romantic lead. Sybylla strings along her love interest, plays with his emotions and ultimately rejects him because she thinks she can do better. Unfortunately, her life takes a turn for the worse when she is forced to become governess to a squalid peasant household. Considering Miles was only a teenager when she wrote the book, it is excellently written, with a very visceral sense of place. I've never read such vivid descriptions of the oppressive Australian landscape, and it really felt like I was there in the heat, dust and monotonous grind of farmlife. The tale is horrifying in its claustrophic and stultifying descriptions of poverty and servitude, and I couldn't look away.

Rating: 4/5

The Haunting of Hill House - Shirley Jackson

I came to Hill House armed with the foreknowledge of the terrible 1999 film 'The Haunting' and the not-so terrible Netflix series by the title's name. Both were loose adaptations, but more so the Netflix series, which only seems to use character names and little else. As such, I was not so worried about being spoiled, and spoiled I was not. The premise of the book is an inherently evil house with an eighty year history of tragic accidents and ruined lives. Professor Montague, a paranormal enthusiast, decides to study the haunting and assembles a team of unrelated people to stay in the house with him. There is Luke Sanderson, heir to the estate, Theodora, an artist with psychic ability, and Eleonara Vance, a timid woman who has wasted most of her youth being carer to an ill mother. None of the characters are particularly likeable.

Eleonor is the central protagonist, and whilst the reader is initially made to warm to her, we later discover she is perhaps not quite all there upstairs. As the hauntings in the house progress, the line between reality and fantasy becomes increasingly blurred, with more than enough evidence to suggest that it is either Eleonor's disturbed state of mind manifesting the supernatural occurences, or she is wholly imagining them. Later in the novel, two comic characters arrive, the doctor's wife, Mrs Montague and her companion, Arthur Parker. The intrusion of these even more unlikable people shifts the tone of the novel quite abruptly, but also serves as a foil to the original frightened team. The book ends in tragedy, leaving things inconclusive about what was causing the haunting. I enjoyed the story a lot, but might have liked it more if the characters weren't so gratingly annoying.

Rating: 3/5

Giovanni's Room - James Baldwin

This was a short book, but a good one. I read it all in one day as, similar to Lolita, it reads like a car crash you can't look away from. David is a repressed homosexual white American man with daddy issues who moves to Paris whilst his non-committal fiancee is 'finding herself' on an extended excursion in Spain. Once in Paris, David wastes little time in finding out the queer quarters and falling in with their bohemian coterie, which mostly involves getting trashed every night and looking for attractive young men to have sex with. After falling for an Italian barman called Giovanni, David embarks on a months long love affair whilst living in the man's tiny squalid apartment. The room comes to symbolise the claustrophobic lifestyle that gay men of the 1950s are forced to adopt, but also David's compartmentalism of his homosexuality.

Once his fiancee, Hella, joins him in Paris, David promptly ditches Giovanni to pursue a conventional and respectable life. The rejection sends Giovanni off the rails, eventually leading him to murder and ruin. The novel is interesting in that it features an all white cast written by a black author, a rarity of its time. Controversial opinion follows the book, is it a tragic lament about repressed sexuality and identity, or a squalid and unflattering portrayal of the queer scene? Crossdressing predatory gay men are referred to as 'disgusting old fairies', and the older men on the scene are exploitative pimps using money and power to extort sex from younger men. There is much that is squalid about subcultures forced to operate on the fringes, but Baldwin's portrayal of women is also problematic. You could argue the unpleasant depiction comes from the turbulent mind of the protagonist. Overall, a very engaging read.

Rating: 4/5

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John le Carré

After reading the first chapter of this book, I thought I was going to love it. Unfortunately, it was all downhill from there. Set in the early 70s, the book is an espionage drama about a Russian Cold War double agent infiltrating the London spy network. It sounds like it should be exciting, but due to being heavily modelled on real life sleuthing, it was incredibly dull. Not merely dull in that not an awful lot happens, and that it's mostly unlikable, grey-faced Englishmen sitting around for long periods of time monologuing to themselves in lonely hotel rooms, but worse, I didn't even understand the plot. 

There aren't many books that leave me so clueless as to what's going on, and this may be the very first where I was utterly in the dark. Characters often go by several monikers and are difficult to keep track of, there is never anything concrete stated as to what the spies are actually doing or looking for, and the abundant industry lingo is never adequately explained. By the time the big reveal of the mole happens at the end of the book, I was unable to enjoy the payoff on account of never knowing who was who and what the spies were doing. Apparently the novel is well regarded, so now I feel incredibly stupid for not getting it.

Rating: 1/5

Pnin - Vladimir Nabokov

I was surprised by Pnin as I expected to like it after really enjoying Lolita, also by Nabokov. But I didn't rate this book at all, I found it dreadfully dull. Luckily, at only 169 pages, it's more of a novella and was over quickly. The character Pnin (pronounced Puh-neen) is a Russian emigre in America, working as a teacher of Russian at a fictitious university in the equally fictitious small town of Waindell. He is a bumbling academic with a life riddled by mishap and misfortune. There is just nothing pleasant to be gleaned from reading such a series of miseries, which I suppose we're meant to find tragi-comic. 

I was frequently confused about who all the characters were, who the speaking voice was coming from, and even sometimes where the action was unfolding. Nabokov lapses into purple prose quite often, and I couldn't quite tell if it was intentional for ironic effect, or just his style. The titular character himself is just not interesting or funny enough to carry the story, and I didn't particularly develop any empathy for him by the end. I would not recommend this one, there are definitely better slice of life narratives out there.

Rating: 2/5

The Brothers Karamazov - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

A friend told me to read this book many years ago, but I didn't take the recommendation. Eventually, all things come to pass, and the brothers finally made their way onto my list. It took me 3 and a half months to finish, averaging a chapter a day, so it's by no means a quick read. The story follows the three brothers of a wealthy landowner, Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov, all of very different personalities. The eldest, Mitya, is a volatile, alcoholic womaniser cheated out of his inheritance by his father. Ivan, the middle brother is the academically gifted atheist who looks down on the others. Whilst the youngest, Aloysha, is a religious fanatic who has entered a monastery. I enjoyed the first half of the novel a lot more than the second, before the murder is committed, as it wasn't yet clear in what direction the story would take. Once the murder takes place, the novel becomes a murder mystery and courtroom drama.

The mystery element of the book is not left hanging for too long, we learn who it is who murders the father and steals his money before the courtcase, which is then quite frustrating to 'sit through.' We observe the bumbling court comb through the evidence with lengthy speeches that take up about a fifth of the novel, only waiting to see if Mitya will be convicted or acquitted. The speeches of the prosecutor and the defence are self-indulgent and exhausting; the prosecutor's alone spans four entire chapters. Whilst there is no doubt that the book is skillfully written with many sombre themes such as parricide, religious faith, free will, forgiveness, and redemption, I couldn't help but think Crime and Punishment managed it better. At times it felt like there were subplots that went nowhere, and not all narrative threads were satisfactorily concluded at the end. It felt like more chapters were required to tie everything up. 

Rating: 3/5

Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

More greatness from another Russian writer - Lolita, for all its perverted content, was a spectacular page turner. I didn't know much about the story at all, I just knew the iconic poster image from Stanley Kubrick's adaptation. I'd always dismissed it as a smutty road trip romance that wouldn't interest me, having no idea about its darker elements. I was slightly worried it would turn out to be one of those florally written pieces more concerned with style over substance, and whilst there are annoyingly cloying passages of almost parodic purple prose, the writing style is fully engaging. Humbert Humbert is an insufferably pretentious European academic who develops the disease of pederasty at an early age, following his inability to consummate things with his first 'nymphet.' This is the odious term Humbert gives to pre-pubescent girls he is sexually attracted to. After a failed first marriage, he moves to America where he meets Lolita, the daughter of his new landlady.

What follows is Humbert's crafty ingratiation into the household, by marrying landlady Charlotte Haze in order to get closer access to the daughter. When wifey discovers his perversion and dies in a 'freak accident', Humbert puts his predatory plans into action, taking Lolita on a year long road trip from one seedy roadside motel to the next. Robbing her of a childhood and stable education, he uses her for his perverted aims. Revolting Humbert waxes lyrical in his pseudointellectual and academic attempts to justify and legitimise his lust, inducing nausea in the reader. We already know at the start of the book that he is arrested and awaiting trial, we just need to know how he gets caught, and this is what keeps the pages turning. It is also worth noting that the book is very funny, with a distinct vein of black humour running through its pages. Many of the jokes are delivered through facetious puns or wordplay, as well as innuendo and a generous touch of the absurd. A gripping, though often distressing read with some extremely unpleasant details, as shocking today as it was in 1955.

Rating: 4/5

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson

It occurred to me that, despite being a horror enthusiast, I'd never actually read The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Being part of the classic horror canon, I decided to put this wrong to rights, and was not disappointed. The novella, which is very slight and can be read in a couple of sittings, documents the case of the titular character(s) in the form of an informal legal inquiry. Lawyer Utterson has been called upon by his respectable friend Dr Jekyll to include a Mr Edward Hyde in his will, an unorthodox arrangement that throws Utterson into a bit of a tizz. Hyde has become known as a disreputable character about town who tramples children in the street. All who meet him are overcome by his ugliness and aura of brutishness. There is no sense in avoiding spoilers here, as everyone knows that Jekyll and Hyde are one and the same person, separated by a swig of the good doctor's breakthrough chemical formula. It must have been an amazing twist to original readers. The impact this tale has had on popular culture is without doubt, simply incalculable, and it remains a fantastic idea to this day.

My first encounter with Jekyll and Hyde was from the animated children's film Mad Monster Party (1967). Indeed he is such a staple of the horror genre, and the concept so rooted in psychoanalytic discourse pertaining to the Id and Superego, as to be universally well recognised. Still, I find it curious how he is sometimes included in the pantheon of Universal classic monsters, but more often than not excluded. The story itself is suspenseful and the streets of London granted an otherworldly quality wreathed in brown, obfuscating vapours, an excellentl and evocative allegory for the hidden parts of man's psyche. The edition I read comes with two other short stories by Stevenson - 'Christmas Crawlers' as they were known as back then. The Body Snatchers, a creepy tale about grave robbing and murder, and Olalla, a classic example of gothic literature dealing with vampirism. I really wish the Victorian tradition of spooky stories for Christmas would make a comeback, as there's nothing more cosy on a cold winter evening.

Rating: 4/5

The Master and Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov

What a delightful surprise this book was, but then, isn't most Russian literature? I don't think I've had a bad one. I went in blind, not knowing anything about the plot or even genre. The story is a surreal, absurdist adventure about Satan and his colourful retinue who visit Moscow to enact all kinds of outrages against its citizens. There is an interweaving tale about the crucifixion of Christ, focusing on Pontius Pilate. Admittedly, these sections aren't as fun as the core narrative, but I suppose expecting comedy from such grave subject matter is too much to expect even from a raging atheist like Bulgakov. The story begins at the Patriarch Ponds where the poet Ivan Homeless is having a discussion with his critic friend Berlioz (not the composer) before they are joined by Satan, disguised as a Professor Woland. Wolan goes onto predict Berlioz's death by decapitation, which takes place very soon after on that same evening.

What follows is an exhilarating descent into madness and hijinks as the otherworldly forces take over an apartment to use as their base of operations. Although dealing with often grotesque happenings, the book manages to stay away from true horror, focusing more on humour and satire. There are giant anthropomorphic cats, naked vampires and witches, headless toastmasters, and whole theatre-loads of hypnotised patrons to deal with. The titular characters are a writer locked away in an insane asylum for attempting to publish a novel on Pontius Pilate, and his lover, Margarita, the only one who believes in his work. These two are taken under wing of Satan, who has decided to become their benefactor. My only complaint about the book is that it can be very difficult to keep track of the huge cast of characters, particularly due to their confusingly similar Russian names. Overall, a thoroughly recommended read to all lovers of magical realism.

Rating: 4/5

The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman - Laurence Sterne

This was a disappointing read, and I imagine it would be for many. After all, it was Sterne's main intention to 'troll' his audience when writing it in the first place. But it wasn't disappointing for this reason. The Georgian era is a favourite of mine in history and literature, for its larger than life characters, flamboyant wigs, and that almost fairy-tale past characterised hunting, feasting, and carousing. Sadly, the rustic decadence and rollicking good time found in The History of Tom Jones is mostly absent here, and whilst Sterne is not lacking in wit, I did not enjoy the ways in which he employed it. Tristram Shandy is the ultimate in shaggy-dog stories, marked by constant digressions, interruptions, asides, and stories within stories within stories to an exasperating degree. 

The title itself is misleading, for Tristram is not even born until volume 4, and we do not proceed any further than his very early years. One is certainly not made privy to his opinions. Instead, the book mainly deals with his father, Walter Shandy, his uncle, Captain Toby Shandy, and the latter's manservant, Corporal Trim. There is little in the way of actual plot, for the text is too busy manipulating the reader into a state of frustration and literary unfulfillment. Just when we think the plot is going to get moving again, yet another tedious interlude intervenes. In some ways this can be seen as the first true postmodern novel, despite being published in 1759. Long time followers of my reviews might remember how little I enjoy postmodern literature. 

Rating: 2/5

The Turn of the Screw - Henry James

In addition to the titular novella, this edition includes the short stories of 'The Romance of Certain Old Clothes', 'The Last of the Valerii', 'Sir Edmund Orme', 'Owen Wingrave', The Friends of the Friends', 'The Third Person', and 'The Jolly Corner.' The stories vary in quality and tone, ranging from highly strung gothic tales, to comedic stories with a light touch. All are united by an infusion of the supernatural and the uncanny, along with James' signature turgid prose. As an enjoyer of gothic literature and classic novels, I am usually able to accept antiquated language (sometimes revel in it) and even put up with tiresome melodrama, but I have never been able to get onboard with Henry James. Reading his sentences is akin to struggling with a mouthful of particularly sticky toffee. His excessive wordiness clogs up one's throat to an intolerable degree, suffocating the reader. That aside, what did I think of the collection?

Unfortunately, although there are a few good ideas scattered amongst this tales, the way James delivers them is difficult to get past. Some stories are instantly forgettable, many end with the sudden death of a character, and one is an almost postmodern exercise in psychoanalytical introspection. 'The Last of the Valerii' has pretty much no ghostly presence in it at all, the horror comes from someone going through a brief phase of pagan worship - not exactly a ghost story in my opinion. I should spare some words on the main novella of the collection, The Turn of the Screw. Despite being a stronger offering than the smaller tales orbiting it, the obsessive and neurotic nature of the governess is annoying and grating. The tales lends itself to many ambiguities, with numerous interpretations in circulation, including the theory that the ghosts are all in the narrator's mind. There are also darker insinuations that one or both of the children are being sexually abused.

Rating: 2/5