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4.03 AVERAGE
4.03 AVERAGE
Reminds me a lot of Less by Andrew Sean Greer. Though Isherwood is a better writer.
This book was a nice little nibble - it's short and easy to read and I was expecting something dark and poignant but it was instead contemplative and fascinating. It started off soaked in sadness and humanity - I really liked how honest the descriptions of the main character's daily life were. The description of his leading the class was fantastic, also, and of his feelings towards his friends. I personally couldn't relate too well to George: I can't imagine acting like that when someone I love has died. But that's not a fault with the book, it's a fault with my perception of it.
I was expecting a shorter and sweeter Revolutionary Road, and indeed, a lot of the prose reminded me of that in style and internal monologue. But what I got was something less gloomy and introspective and was instead calmer and brighter. The character's acceptance of circumstances and refusal to give up - and the fact that that was also shared by those closest to him - was refreshing. I'm giving this four stars not because I enjoyed it four stars but because it is written with four stars of quality. I'd love to read more of this author. I think a bigger bite on a similar subject would reveal something I would treasure.
"But George knows he can't do that. Because, absurdly, inadequately, in spite of himself almost, he is a representative of the hope. And the hope is not false. No. It's just that George is like a man trying to sell a real diamond for a nickel, on the street. The diamond is protected from all but the tiniest few, because the great hurrying majority can never stop to dare to believe that it could conceivably be real."
"Alexander Mong smiles enigmatically, too; though his beautiful head almost certainly contains nothing but clotted oil paint."
"Gottlieb probably knows every bit as much about Quarles as the don does. But Oxford, towering up in all its majesty behind this don, its child, utterly overawes poor little Gottlieb, who was born in one of the wrong parts of Chicago. ... Gottlieb obviously wishes, above all else in life, that he could turn himself into that miserable don and learn to write his spiteful-playful tight-assed vinegar prose."
"As if there weren't far too much understanding in the world already; above all, that understanding between lovers, celebrated in song and story, which is actually such torture that no two of them can bear it without frequent separations or fights."
I was expecting a shorter and sweeter Revolutionary Road, and indeed, a lot of the prose reminded me of that in style and internal monologue. But what I got was something less gloomy and introspective and was instead calmer and brighter. The character's acceptance of circumstances and refusal to give up - and the fact that that was also shared by those closest to him - was refreshing. I'm giving this four stars not because I enjoyed it four stars but because it is written with four stars of quality. I'd love to read more of this author. I think a bigger bite on a similar subject would reveal something I would treasure.
"But George knows he can't do that. Because, absurdly, inadequately, in spite of himself almost, he is a representative of the hope. And the hope is not false. No. It's just that George is like a man trying to sell a real diamond for a nickel, on the street. The diamond is protected from all but the tiniest few, because the great hurrying majority can never stop to dare to believe that it could conceivably be real."
"Alexander Mong smiles enigmatically, too; though his beautiful head almost certainly contains nothing but clotted oil paint."
"Gottlieb probably knows every bit as much about Quarles as the don does. But Oxford, towering up in all its majesty behind this don, its child, utterly overawes poor little Gottlieb, who was born in one of the wrong parts of Chicago. ... Gottlieb obviously wishes, above all else in life, that he could turn himself into that miserable don and learn to write his spiteful-playful tight-assed vinegar prose."
"As if there weren't far too much understanding in the world already; above all, that understanding between lovers, celebrated in song and story, which is actually such torture that no two of them can bear it without frequent separations or fights."
adventurous
emotional
funny
reflective
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
what a beautifully written book. the prose is incredible, the character development is even better, and somehow the end just wraps it all up and pulls it together in a way that leaves you in shock. what a poetic story
Christopher Isherwood has written a book that makes me hate him. Or maybe I hate myself? The main theme of this book is loss; loss of a lover, loss of youth, loss of identity, loss of direction, it's all there in beautifully phrased observations and it tickled that spot in my mind, the spot where I hide all of my fears, until I could no longer ignore the fact that I am and I continue to lose these things myself until one day the devastating and unthinkable will happen and I will lose that which I hold most important. It's not my hair, for once.
Isherwood's novel demonstrates how repressed my fears are, and so does my natural reaction of making a silly joke about my hair. This book does this to me and whilst I love that I am seen reading such wonderful literature on a train when either side of me are people with the latest mega bestsellers with no words bigger than two syllables and all the feeling of my hand after I've slept on it all night, I'm not sure I am mature enough (or willing) to deal with the consequences.
I didn't really want to discuss the fact that Christopher Isherwood was a gay man and that his protagonist is a gay man but it seems that a lot of people can't get past that fact. Top shelves = GLBT etc. and perhaps when this was written it really was unique to write about a gay man AS IF HE WAS A NORMAL HUMAN BEING but to me George is not defined by his sexuality, he is defined by his humanity and as such that should really be the end of it. This is not a great piece of gay literature, this is a great piece of literature full stop. If that offends you I shall not apologise.
I feel that to discuss this book any further would be to ruin it for you, it is 152 pages of quite large font, all you need to know beyond this is that it's also an incredibly uplifting and life affirming day-in-the-life narrative.
“The perfect evening...lying down on the couch beside the bookcase and reading himself sleepy...Jim lying opposite him at the other end of the couch, also reading; the two of them absorbed in their books yet so completely aware of each other's presence.”
Isherwood's novel demonstrates how repressed my fears are, and so does my natural reaction of making a silly joke about my hair. This book does this to me and whilst I love that I am seen reading such wonderful literature on a train when either side of me are people with the latest mega bestsellers with no words bigger than two syllables and all the feeling of my hand after I've slept on it all night, I'm not sure I am mature enough (or willing) to deal with the consequences.
“Think of two people, living together day after day, year after year, in this small space, standing elbow to elbow cooking at the same small stove, squeezing past each other on the narrow stairs, shaving in front of the same small bathroom mirror, constantly jogging, jostling, bumping against each other’s bodies by mistake or on purpose, sensually, aggressively, awkwardly, impatiently, in rage or in love – think what deep though invisible tracks they must leave, everywhere, behind them!”
I didn't really want to discuss the fact that Christopher Isherwood was a gay man and that his protagonist is a gay man but it seems that a lot of people can't get past that fact. Top shelves = GLBT etc. and perhaps when this was written it really was unique to write about a gay man AS IF HE WAS A NORMAL HUMAN BEING but to me George is not defined by his sexuality, he is defined by his humanity and as such that should really be the end of it. This is not a great piece of gay literature, this is a great piece of literature full stop. If that offends you I shall not apologise.
“No one ever hates without a cause....”
I feel that to discuss this book any further would be to ruin it for you, it is 152 pages of quite large font, all you need to know beyond this is that it's also an incredibly uplifting and life affirming day-in-the-life narrative.
3.5/5 stars
Listen, I get what Isherwood was trying to do, and there's no doubt that he was a phenomenal writer, but this book was just too strange and dragged on way too much for a 150 page novel. The fixation on the most random things made me enjoy it less, even though I understood why it was happening. I've actually been reading this for way longer than I've let on, so it was definitely a bit of a struggle to get through
Listen, I get what Isherwood was trying to do, and there's no doubt that he was a phenomenal writer, but this book was just too strange and dragged on way too much for a 150 page novel. The fixation on the most random things made me enjoy it less, even though I understood why it was happening. I've actually been reading this for way longer than I've let on, so it was definitely a bit of a struggle to get through
What a great, and refreshes exploration of grief. It’s amazing the way the author blended the feelings of grief, bitterness and hatred that George felt in such an authentic and complete way.
George as a character really felt such a funny sense of “main character syndrome”. He had built so much emotional distance between himself and the world he’s constantly observing, feeling observed and always through some glass separation.
It was a great read.
George as a character really felt such a funny sense of “main character syndrome”. He had built so much emotional distance between himself and the world he’s constantly observing, feeling observed and always through some glass separation.
It was a great read.
È una casa piccola, concepita stretta. Spesso si sente protetto da questa piccolezza; non c’è abbastanza spazio per sentirsi soli.
Eppure...
Immaginate due persone che, in questo spazio ridotto, vivano assieme ogni giorno, cucinino gomito a gomito sugli stessi fornelletti, si comprimano sui gradini angusti. Si radano di fronte allo stesso minuscolo specchio, continuino a toccarsi, a urtarsi, a cozzare l’uno contro il corpo dell’altro, per sbaglio o no, sensualmente, aggressivamente, maldestramente, impazientemente, in collera o in amore – immaginate che profonde, ma invisibili tracce devono lasciarsi alle spalle. L’ingresso della cucina è troppo stretto. Due persone di fretta, con i piatti in mano, sono perennemente destinate a scontrarsi. Ed è lì che quasi tutte le mattine, giunto in fondo alla scala —
Eppure...
Immaginate due persone che, in questo spazio ridotto, vivano assieme ogni giorno, cucinino gomito a gomito sugli stessi fornelletti, si comprimano sui gradini angusti. Si radano di fronte allo stesso minuscolo specchio, continuino a toccarsi, a urtarsi, a cozzare l’uno contro il corpo dell’altro, per sbaglio o no, sensualmente, aggressivamente, maldestramente, impazientemente, in collera o in amore – immaginate che profonde, ma invisibili tracce devono lasciarsi alle spalle. L’ingresso della cucina è troppo stretto. Due persone di fretta, con i piatti in mano, sono perennemente destinate a scontrarsi. Ed è lì che quasi tutte le mattine, giunto in fondo alla scala —