You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.73 AVERAGE
3.73 AVERAGE
This book is a love letter to fairy tales, storytellers, and mythologists. It's the kind of writing I find so delicious and easy to sink into. I had to take one star away for the disappointing thread of body shame that runs throughout the main story. If only I could lift that damaged cord out, this book would be true perfection. I can't wait to read more of her work.
This is a terrific book for appreciators of fairy tales, such as myself. The tales begin to be spun for pure appreciation, then as the book goes on, meta-analysis begins. Then the title tale of the book blends a modern fairy tales with analysis in a perfect way.
3.5 ish.
This book was a lot, but still very interesting.
I read it for a class and we spoke very indepth about the stories.
This book was a lot, but still very interesting.
I read it for a class and we spoke very indepth about the stories.
Rating: 7/10
This was kind of a mixed bag for me. I read a different collection by Byatt a number of years ago, where one of the stories, the one that really encapsulated the title, stood out the most for me. Here, the opposite happened, where the first few stories were the best and the title story wasn't as strong.
Byatt is such a meaty, intellectual writer, and I love her ideas. I love her takes on fairy tales too, so I thought the first three stories were the best. Two of these stories appeared as part of her award-winning novel Possession. The third story, "The Eldest Princess", I liked the best of the rest of the stories.
The title story had an interesting premise, but took a long time to get going. As a take on a wish-fulfilment story, it was interesting, and I liked that element of it, but I could have done without the half of the story before that. I see that Byatt wanted to set up an atmosphere to ground the story in, but I still felt that could have been pared back.
I'd love to read the first three stories again, and if I could have them in a collection with "Cold", the story I liked best from the other Byatt story collection I've read, I'd love that. Not sure if I'll keep this collection on my shelves, though.
This was kind of a mixed bag for me. I read a different collection by Byatt a number of years ago, where one of the stories, the one that really encapsulated the title, stood out the most for me. Here, the opposite happened, where the first few stories were the best and the title story wasn't as strong.
Byatt is such a meaty, intellectual writer, and I love her ideas. I love her takes on fairy tales too, so I thought the first three stories were the best. Two of these stories appeared as part of her award-winning novel Possession. The third story, "The Eldest Princess", I liked the best of the rest of the stories.
The title story had an interesting premise, but took a long time to get going. As a take on a wish-fulfilment story, it was interesting, and I liked that element of it, but I could have done without the half of the story before that. I see that Byatt wanted to set up an atmosphere to ground the story in, but I still felt that could have been pared back.
I'd love to read the first three stories again, and if I could have them in a collection with "Cold", the story I liked best from the other Byatt story collection I've read, I'd love that. Not sure if I'll keep this collection on my shelves, though.
I'm torn in writing this review. I adored first four of the five fairy stories in A. S. Byatt's "The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye": limpid lambent language and the twisting satisfaction of fairy plotlines, so familiar, yet surprising. True almost all of the four had elements which I could critique, like loose ends and jumpy plots (like in Dragons' Breath), or sometimes characters apparently there just as foils (like the woodsman in "The Glass Coffin" or the little thing in Gode's Story), but the language was so divine, I couldn't possibly complain. The colours alone in "The Eldest Princess" were treat enough.
"There were a series of stormy sunsets tinged with seagreen and seaweed green. Later, there were as well as the sunsets, dawns, where the sky was mackerel puckered and underwater dappled with lime green and bottle green and other greens too, malachite and jade... But of course apple and grass and fern looked very different against this new light and something very odd and dimming happened to lemons and oranges, and something more savage and hectic to poppies and pomegranates and ripe chilies."
But the last (title) story, "The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye" stumped me. It was fully more than half the book (the other stories being story-length, and this one more of a novella), and set in the real contemporary world, yet with fantastical elements, which appeared not to change the way people acted or thought or were.
The main character is an English "narratologist" in her 50's, someone we are repeatedly told in the beginning is a being of a second order, thus we are not to like or respect her to some degree. But then the POV shifts to her (and sometimes briefly to other characters just to tell the reader what they're thinking - sloppy). She ends up being a fascinating erudite warm thoughtful person, so I'm not sure what the point was in the initial undercutting of her character.
But all that is minor compared to what the plot does. Long sequences of lectures are recounted, old fairy stories and legends and classics told and retold, visions of death and fate appear (that suddenly disappear halfway through), and countless baffling and abrupt references to narratives and authors from obscure and ancient lore (this felt like a lot like name dropping and jargon). Not that these outtakes weren't interesting, but I didn't understand their function in the plot, and their insertion was very jerky.
There was also an ongoing obsession with ageing (as per women) and female roles in history and folklore that is explored that I couldn't help but imagine was self-referential and mental masturbation only because it was not integrated into the story in any satisfactory fashion. Again, topics I personally find interesting (and that align with my politics), but why here? Or why so clumsily?
This next is perhaps my own bias, but the Muslim references were negative and/or exotified. There was a scene with a hyper fundo Islamic Pakistani man, his bejeweled and sari'ed wife and daughters (with soft laughs and soft hands and tinkling bangles). Also three hijabi women in an audience who just sat there staring defiantly into space.
The djinn plotline was romantic and lovely, but not original other than the way the scenes are described (sexy and beautiful) - her language in this story, when not academic or referential, is yet outstanding.
The whole thing felt like she threw together lectures and research on folklore and narrative and literature, combined that with diary entries and some (romantic) (colonial) thinking about djinns, and stuck it into this book. On its own, maybe it would have survived a bit better (though seriously flawed), but compared to the other luminous fairy stories in the collection, it doesn't do.
I give the book 3 stars: 1 star for the last story and 4.5 for the first four.
"There were a series of stormy sunsets tinged with seagreen and seaweed green. Later, there were as well as the sunsets, dawns, where the sky was mackerel puckered and underwater dappled with lime green and bottle green and other greens too, malachite and jade... But of course apple and grass and fern looked very different against this new light and something very odd and dimming happened to lemons and oranges, and something more savage and hectic to poppies and pomegranates and ripe chilies."
But the last (title) story, "The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye" stumped me. It was fully more than half the book (the other stories being story-length, and this one more of a novella), and set in the real contemporary world, yet with fantastical elements, which appeared not to change the way people acted or thought or were.
The main character is an English "narratologist" in her 50's, someone we are repeatedly told in the beginning is a being of a second order, thus we are not to like or respect her to some degree. But then the POV shifts to her (and sometimes briefly to other characters just to tell the reader what they're thinking - sloppy). She ends up being a fascinating erudite warm thoughtful person, so I'm not sure what the point was in the initial undercutting of her character.
But all that is minor compared to what the plot does. Long sequences of lectures are recounted, old fairy stories and legends and classics told and retold, visions of death and fate appear (that suddenly disappear halfway through), and countless baffling and abrupt references to narratives and authors from obscure and ancient lore (this felt like a lot like name dropping and jargon). Not that these outtakes weren't interesting, but I didn't understand their function in the plot, and their insertion was very jerky.
There was also an ongoing obsession with ageing (as per women) and female roles in history and folklore that is explored that I couldn't help but imagine was self-referential and mental masturbation only because it was not integrated into the story in any satisfactory fashion. Again, topics I personally find interesting (and that align with my politics), but why here? Or why so clumsily?
This next is perhaps my own bias, but the Muslim references were negative and/or exotified. There was a scene with a hyper fundo Islamic Pakistani man, his bejeweled and sari'ed wife and daughters (with soft laughs and soft hands and tinkling bangles). Also three hijabi women in an audience who just sat there staring defiantly into space.
The djinn plotline was romantic and lovely, but not original other than the way the scenes are described (sexy and beautiful) - her language in this story, when not academic or referential, is yet outstanding.
The whole thing felt like she threw together lectures and research on folklore and narrative and literature, combined that with diary entries and some (romantic) (colonial) thinking about djinns, and stuck it into this book. On its own, maybe it would have survived a bit better (though seriously flawed), but compared to the other luminous fairy stories in the collection, it doesn't do.
I give the book 3 stars: 1 star for the last story and 4.5 for the first four.
An interesting collection of tales, usually I find retellings of fairytales dull, but although each of these stories felt familiar they didn’t feel tedious or predictable in the ways this kind of collection usually does.
A lot of reviewers noted how different the title story feels from the preceding stories. I read the book out of order reading The Djinn In The Nightingale’s Eye first, and then circling back to the others. And I actually think they are more alike than not. Each story deals with similar ideas about life, fate, storytelling, and the fact that while some things are inescapable, understanding the story one finds oneself in can make a world of difference.
There’s also a heavy focus on women in these stories, and the choices they do or do not make and what that means for their lives.
A lot of reviewers noted how different the title story feels from the preceding stories. I read the book out of order reading The Djinn In The Nightingale’s Eye first, and then circling back to the others. And I actually think they are more alike than not. Each story deals with similar ideas about life, fate, storytelling, and the fact that while some things are inescapable, understanding the story one finds oneself in can make a world of difference.
There’s also a heavy focus on women in these stories, and the choices they do or do not make and what that means for their lives.
I read this because of the new film starring Idris Elba (drool) and Tilda Swinton. One review of the upcoming film, "3,000 Years of Longing," based on the story of the book's title, asserts the film is blatantly racist. Is the djinn actually the woman's slave? Maybe so, although two facts distinguish it from that: first, that bottled djinn typically owe three wishes for their release, no matter who uncorks them. And second, that it's the djinn himself who decides not to engage in the normal course of djinn trickery to turn those wishes against those who make them. Also, in the book, her third wish frees him by making it not even hers to make.
The rest of the tales in this book are wonderful in their weirdness, if a little preachy. Especially in strange times such as these when nothing is certain, the concept of folk tales for adults is rather delightful. Let's hope some other authors make the attempt.
The rest of the tales in this book are wonderful in their weirdness, if a little preachy. Especially in strange times such as these when nothing is certain, the concept of folk tales for adults is rather delightful. Let's hope some other authors make the attempt.
A work by Byatt is a lesson in language and stories. She deftly weaves history and literature within her layered works. Most of the time I don't know the underlying references but when I do I nod appreciatively (and feel learned which is a clever way to get someone to like your work.) While I genuinely enjoyed some of the tales, most would not have been interesting without Byatt's splendid use of language. A much bigger problem is with the titular story in which our protagonist wishes the djinn to love her. While the djinn professes to be honored by the wish, it is troubling. Later in the story Byatt writes:
Gillian said, 'I am ready now to make my third wish.' ... 'I shall almost believe you are trying to prevent my wish.'
'No, no. I am your slave.'
It is clear that the djinn, despite the playfulness of their relationship, is in fact bound to grant Gillian's wishes, independent of his own desires. Forcing your slave to love you is disturbing. And simply wrong.
It is even stranger that earlier Gillian tells us how as a young woman she was sexually assaulted by an older, more powerful person.
Gillian said, 'I am ready now to make my third wish.' ... 'I shall almost believe you are trying to prevent my wish.'
'No, no. I am your slave.'
It is clear that the djinn, despite the playfulness of their relationship, is in fact bound to grant Gillian's wishes, independent of his own desires. Forcing your slave to love you is disturbing. And simply wrong.
It is even stranger that earlier Gillian tells us how as a young woman she was sexually assaulted by an older, more powerful person.
adventurous
challenging
emotional
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Such a delightful set of adult fairy tales! The writing is truly a wonder to behold. And the twisty tale that gives the book its title is a must read for anyone who enjoys story.