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3.89 AVERAGE
3.89 AVERAGE
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
This was a pretty uneven experience. The scope was pretty ambitious, so I guess I have to give the author some credit for that. I enjoyed much more the sociological study that the literary part. Sometimes the author seemed to gather a little too much steam and rambled on for way too long. I honestly did not understand everything he was trying to say, and I doubt he really understood it either.
He does make some good points, but you can see his own bias shine through, for example in his interpretation of Sylvia Plath's suicide. Still, this is an ambitious and necessary book that's unflinching in its inspection of one of our biggest taboos.
I'm between 3 and 4 stars, but I'm giving it a 3 because I was so bored sometimes and because I didn't understand or care for all the references made (probably due to my background as a relatively young non-English speaker). And I still don't understand poetry, but that's probably a me-problem.
He does make some good points, but you can see his own bias shine through, for example in his interpretation of Sylvia Plath's suicide. Still, this is an ambitious and necessary book that's unflinching in its inspection of one of our biggest taboos.
I'm between 3 and 4 stars, but I'm giving it a 3 because I was so bored sometimes and because I didn't understand or care for all the references made (probably due to my background as a relatively young non-English speaker). And I still don't understand poetry, but that's probably a me-problem.
Essentially a book of four parts.
1. Understanding the suicide of Sylvia Plath (as much as one can ever understand such a thing).
2. The historical and religious context of suicide.
3. Suicide through the lens of art (though mostly poetry).
4. The near-suicide of the author.
All in all, the historical context was of greatest interest.
1. Understanding the suicide of Sylvia Plath (as much as one can ever understand such a thing).
2. The historical and religious context of suicide.
3. Suicide through the lens of art (though mostly poetry).
4. The near-suicide of the author.
All in all, the historical context was of greatest interest.
This is a once-in-a-lifetime read. A strikingly well-researched and empathetic view of suicide and its history without modern dispositions on the fatal choice. You will find no empty platitudes on the importance of thinking positive, no gibberish on how the universe reacts to your positive energy, no illusions on how God above abhors the act. In fact, Al Álvarez does not condemn suicide at all. Likely because he, too, has felt that final urge pulling him to the void. That inexorable urge for the bitter end won him over. As it did with me. But in the case of both of us, the gloom of death stayed its hand.
The Savage God goes through the history of the many ways suicide has been viewed, from the Stoics and Augustine to Dadaists and Romanticists. The book does not shy away from condemning nonsense when it comes across it. It is not wholly objective—that is not a fault. It is very much necessary. That is not to say that The Savage God is pro-suicide; it is not. But it is "anti-anti-suicide", in a way. The Savage God is beautifully written, staunchly personal, and it embraces the meaninglessness of life; consequently, it embraces the dead-end of death. Suicide exists between.
The book is mostly progressive for its brutal and honest view of suicide at the time, but it does falter in that regard. As it was written nearly 50 years ago, it is dated. It idolizes Freud, whose theories are mostly disproven (but not unimportant, of course) and spends a great deal of time doing so. Of course, Álvarez could not have known, and it doesn't take much away from his analysis of self-destruction on a more personal scale. In other words, the study of suicide in psychiatry and cognition is, to the modern reader, not entirely accurate. In addition, it contains periodic casual sexism and outdated racist terminology at times. These two things can mar the experience here and there and it's important to criticize work with those qualities. Yet, with these points and The Savage God's age in mind, it is still a thorough, heartfelt, and raw study of an act that many have taken—Álvarez and I included—and many will take.
At points, The Savage God becomes crushingly bleak. This is necessary, as the act is bleak. It is a rejection of all that would make you suffer as well as a rejection of all that would make you happy. It is choosing to end existence; how terrifying a thing, to shed the one thing you have always known, to betray one's own body and join the dead in their thoughtlessness. Álvarez addresses suicide for what it is: rejection.
To paraphrase a quote contained in the book; we have no conception of the acute anguish and dolor that leads one to take their life. Well, through his sharp analysis of suicide's history, gripping and poignant prose, intricate weaving of philosophy and art, and personal experience with the deed, I can attest from experience that Al Álvarez comes close.
9.4/10.
The Savage God goes through the history of the many ways suicide has been viewed, from the Stoics and Augustine to Dadaists and Romanticists. The book does not shy away from condemning nonsense when it comes across it. It is not wholly objective—that is not a fault. It is very much necessary. That is not to say that The Savage God is pro-suicide; it is not. But it is "anti-anti-suicide", in a way. The Savage God is beautifully written, staunchly personal, and it embraces the meaninglessness of life; consequently, it embraces the dead-end of death. Suicide exists between.
The book is mostly progressive for its brutal and honest view of suicide at the time, but it does falter in that regard. As it was written nearly 50 years ago, it is dated. It idolizes Freud, whose theories are mostly disproven (but not unimportant, of course) and spends a great deal of time doing so. Of course, Álvarez could not have known, and it doesn't take much away from his analysis of self-destruction on a more personal scale. In other words, the study of suicide in psychiatry and cognition is, to the modern reader, not entirely accurate. In addition, it contains periodic casual sexism and outdated racist terminology at times. These two things can mar the experience here and there and it's important to criticize work with those qualities. Yet, with these points and The Savage God's age in mind, it is still a thorough, heartfelt, and raw study of an act that many have taken—Álvarez and I included—and many will take.
At points, The Savage God becomes crushingly bleak. This is necessary, as the act is bleak. It is a rejection of all that would make you suffer as well as a rejection of all that would make you happy. It is choosing to end existence; how terrifying a thing, to shed the one thing you have always known, to betray one's own body and join the dead in their thoughtlessness. Álvarez addresses suicide for what it is: rejection.
To paraphrase a quote contained in the book; we have no conception of the acute anguish and dolor that leads one to take their life. Well, through his sharp analysis of suicide's history, gripping and poignant prose, intricate weaving of philosophy and art, and personal experience with the deed, I can attest from experience that Al Álvarez comes close.
9.4/10.
Some bits were fantastic, others were slow and dry.
Largely enjoyed it though.
Largely enjoyed it though.
informative
reflective
slow-paced
A read that took me quite a long time which sadly means i've already forgotten most of what was written in here. Nonetheless, i, enjoyed my stay. A solid study that can be used for multiple purposes.
reflective
fast-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
medium-paced
While interesting, Álvarez's book (it's worth noting) was first published in 1971, after Plath's suicide but before the posthumous publication of her journals, and certainly before the majority of the now-extensive scholarship on her life and—more relevantly—death had been produced. Álvarez sketches a broad portrait of suicide, but the capstone of his thesis is that Plath's death was a hasty decision as the result of her being backed into a (mostly figurative) corner. In this I have some sympathy: Álvarez knew Plath, and no one wants to believe that their friend could be suffering for a while without their noticing it. But the evidence, primarily contained within Plath's journals and letters, points inexorably in that direction. It's a depressing reality, to be sure. But it's the most believable by far.