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3.12 AVERAGE
3.12 AVERAGE
I started this book with great expectations. Although I wasn't a fan of Three Junes, I hoped that this one would WOW me. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Overall, the book was good. I liked it. For the most part. Nothing breathtaking, nothing outstanding. Just good. The story was not particularly inspiring - the characters were difficult for me to feel anything for ... it wasn't even that I didn't like them but more that they were very much like cardboard cut outs to me with very little substance. I kept hoping that some life would begin to show in the character development but it never really came. The big 'twist' came out of nowhere for me and didn't seem to really flow well. I think this was in part because of the way the story is told - each chapter a different character. It made the novel (and therefore the story) feel very dull in some way. I kept reading, hoping that it would pick up, that I'd see some glimmer of that something we all look for in a great novel. Unfortunately, it just never came for me. So, in the end, I liked the book but it wasn't particularly impactful to me as a reader.
I was not a fan of this book. It was disjointed and a struggle to get through. My only take-away is the line at the end stating that no on belongs to us. That was something to mull over.
I tried to like this but honestly, the only reason I stuck with it was because I didn't have a lot of other choices while stuck at home. Nothing happens. Normally, with good character development, that isn't necessarily a bad thing, but Glass doesn't make either of the sisters very likeable, so I didn't get invested in what happens to them. I'm just relieved my bookstore order came in.
I came away from this book feeling profoundly sad.
I found myself drawn to the idea of this book initially because it deals with the story of two sisters, and as a mother of two small girls with no experience of sisterhood myself, I've been reading a lot of this kind of fiction lately in an attempt to gain some insight into this profoundly intense sibling relationship.
Glass tells a compelling story in this book, and I read through it in a couple days,
I found myself drawn to the idea of this book initially because it deals with the story of two sisters, and as a mother of two small girls with no experience of sisterhood myself, I've been reading a lot of this kind of fiction lately in an attempt to gain some insight into this profoundly intense sibling relationship.
Glass tells a compelling story in this book, and I read through it in a couple days,
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Disappointing novel focused on two sisters who have different outlooks on life. Clem is the rebel and Louisa is the practical one yet each impacts the other as siblings do. Moved slowly and not very surprising.
This is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. Julia Glass uses language like the true artist that she is; she can conjure precisely the image or emotion she wants in such few, simple words. Others have found the book dull, but I found it anything but. I was hanging on every word for the next part that would tug on my heart and make me think a little more deeply.
The twist at the end was shocking, but the further I got from it the more it made sense; which is a bit like the characters felt as well.
If you are a lover of the kind of beauty that comes from life, love, and pain, please read this book.
The twist at the end was shocking, but the further I got from it the more it made sense; which is a bit like the characters felt as well.
If you are a lover of the kind of beauty that comes from life, love, and pain, please read this book.
“You can’t predict what lasts.”
When it comes to getting at the heart of complex human relationships, Julia Glass is something of an expert. Three Junes, her debut novel, claimed the National Book Award back in 2002 for its soaring portrayal of the McLeod family in all of its complicated, quintessentially human glory. There are some who scoff at the apparent simplicity of it, but I would argue that they have overlooked the careful craftsmanship that went into such an intricate, if subdued, novel.
Her second novel, The Whole World Over, was something of a disappointment for me. Where Junes had felt spot-on and unerringly sympathetic, The Whole World Over felt like it was trying too hard, and not succeeding. Its cast was too sprawling, its emotion too cloying, and its page count too long for such a meandering narrative. The conclusion was top-notch, but not necessarily worth slogging through the rest of the book to get to.
So it was with trepidation that I picked up I See You Everywhere, her third novel. My hesitation started with the plot; it examines the drastically different lives of two sisters – a premise fraught with cliché. Countless writers have mined the same territory ever since Jane Austen did it so well in her classic Sense and Sensibility. It seems, at first, that nothing will be different here. We have elder sister Louisa representing sense. She’s responsible, intelligent, and too tightly wound to really enjoy the beauty of life (which is ironic because she makes her career in the art world). Then there’s free-spirited Clem taking on the role of sensibility. She’s earthy, moody, emotional, fiercely determined and yet seemingly care-free – in every sense the yin to her sister’s yang. They are “as different as white chocolate and seaweed, the Milky Way and a tropical reef.”
Starting in 1980, when both girls are in their early twenties, and progressing on to 2005, the sisters take turns narrating their story. The first hundred pages or so are dully predictable, particularly marred by the sense that Glass is far more enamored of Clem than she is of Louisa. In the first chapter Louisa comes across as startlingly unlikable, an uptight fuss-budget who only attends her great-aunt’s funeral to lay claim to a broach she coveted as a child. Her short temper and mean-spirited jabs at her sister make it seemingly impossible that one could ever find her even remotely sympathetic, especially in contrast to Clem, who comes across as warm and cuddly – a wee bit self-involved, yes, but deeply caring in many respects. Glass seems to admire Clem’s free spirit and wandering attentions. Indeed, the majority of Glass’ lavish description is devoted to Clem. She’s the one who inherited the “daring gene,” the cynic who would rather “be pleasantly surprised than fatally disappointed,” the nomad whose spirit is destined to be “dispersed but never contained.” Louisa just can’t compete, even when subsequent chapters make her a much more likable and sympathetic character.
But there is a marked shift in the second half of the book, which sheds cliché and takes a startling turn toward the dark. Slowly but surely it becomes apparent that it is actually Louisa that Glass sees as the more noble creature. Less interesting, perhaps, but better prepared for the world – even when it seems determined to overlook her in favor of her more glamorous sister.
In one chapter Clem describes herself thusly: “I’m not afraid of the dark, of heights or thunderstorms or solitude. What I’m afraid of is a particular kind of pointlessness. Fear of futility. Futiliphobia.” What Glass explores are the consequences of that fear in a person as determined (reckless?) as Clem, who literally wanders the earth without allowing herself to grow roots anywhere, to become attached to anything.
But what Glass is really exploring is the fragility of what ties us all together. As sisters, Clem and Louisa share a lifelong bond – even when separated by thousands of miles, in arguments and in times of joy. They frustrate each other, amuse each other, and much more – but mostly they rely on each other. But how lasting is that bond? How deeply is it ingrained, and can it be let go?
As in Three Junes, Glass excels at character study here. A novel that could easily have succumbed to pointlessness and banality ends up soaring, all thanks to her prodigious gifts when it comes to characterization. If only the first hundred pages weren’t weak in comparison to the rest of the novel.
Still, it pleases me to say that Glass has rebounded from [b:The Whole World Over|27646|The Whole World Over A Novel|Julia Glass|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1167882144s/27646.jpg|2870] and finally written a novel that is, in my opinion, Junes-worthy.
Grade: B+
When it comes to getting at the heart of complex human relationships, Julia Glass is something of an expert. Three Junes, her debut novel, claimed the National Book Award back in 2002 for its soaring portrayal of the McLeod family in all of its complicated, quintessentially human glory. There are some who scoff at the apparent simplicity of it, but I would argue that they have overlooked the careful craftsmanship that went into such an intricate, if subdued, novel.
Her second novel, The Whole World Over, was something of a disappointment for me. Where Junes had felt spot-on and unerringly sympathetic, The Whole World Over felt like it was trying too hard, and not succeeding. Its cast was too sprawling, its emotion too cloying, and its page count too long for such a meandering narrative. The conclusion was top-notch, but not necessarily worth slogging through the rest of the book to get to.
So it was with trepidation that I picked up I See You Everywhere, her third novel. My hesitation started with the plot; it examines the drastically different lives of two sisters – a premise fraught with cliché. Countless writers have mined the same territory ever since Jane Austen did it so well in her classic Sense and Sensibility. It seems, at first, that nothing will be different here. We have elder sister Louisa representing sense. She’s responsible, intelligent, and too tightly wound to really enjoy the beauty of life (which is ironic because she makes her career in the art world). Then there’s free-spirited Clem taking on the role of sensibility. She’s earthy, moody, emotional, fiercely determined and yet seemingly care-free – in every sense the yin to her sister’s yang. They are “as different as white chocolate and seaweed, the Milky Way and a tropical reef.”
Starting in 1980, when both girls are in their early twenties, and progressing on to 2005, the sisters take turns narrating their story. The first hundred pages or so are dully predictable, particularly marred by the sense that Glass is far more enamored of Clem than she is of Louisa. In the first chapter Louisa comes across as startlingly unlikable, an uptight fuss-budget who only attends her great-aunt’s funeral to lay claim to a broach she coveted as a child. Her short temper and mean-spirited jabs at her sister make it seemingly impossible that one could ever find her even remotely sympathetic, especially in contrast to Clem, who comes across as warm and cuddly – a wee bit self-involved, yes, but deeply caring in many respects. Glass seems to admire Clem’s free spirit and wandering attentions. Indeed, the majority of Glass’ lavish description is devoted to Clem. She’s the one who inherited the “daring gene,” the cynic who would rather “be pleasantly surprised than fatally disappointed,” the nomad whose spirit is destined to be “dispersed but never contained.” Louisa just can’t compete, even when subsequent chapters make her a much more likable and sympathetic character.
But there is a marked shift in the second half of the book, which sheds cliché and takes a startling turn toward the dark. Slowly but surely it becomes apparent that it is actually Louisa that Glass sees as the more noble creature. Less interesting, perhaps, but better prepared for the world – even when it seems determined to overlook her in favor of her more glamorous sister.
In one chapter Clem describes herself thusly: “I’m not afraid of the dark, of heights or thunderstorms or solitude. What I’m afraid of is a particular kind of pointlessness. Fear of futility. Futiliphobia.” What Glass explores are the consequences of that fear in a person as determined (reckless?) as Clem, who literally wanders the earth without allowing herself to grow roots anywhere, to become attached to anything.
But what Glass is really exploring is the fragility of what ties us all together. As sisters, Clem and Louisa share a lifelong bond – even when separated by thousands of miles, in arguments and in times of joy. They frustrate each other, amuse each other, and much more – but mostly they rely on each other. But how lasting is that bond? How deeply is it ingrained, and can it be let go?
As in Three Junes, Glass excels at character study here. A novel that could easily have succumbed to pointlessness and banality ends up soaring, all thanks to her prodigious gifts when it comes to characterization. If only the first hundred pages weren’t weak in comparison to the rest of the novel.
Still, it pleases me to say that Glass has rebounded from [b:The Whole World Over|27646|The Whole World Over A Novel|Julia Glass|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1167882144s/27646.jpg|2870] and finally written a novel that is, in my opinion, Junes-worthy.
Grade: B+