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3.49 AVERAGE
3.49 AVERAGE
The book is composed of two novellas: "Morpho Eugenia," about natural selection, insects, blindness both willful and otherwise, and love in various guises; and "The Conjugial Angel," about spiritualism, seances, Alfred Tennyson, and love--of the dead, of the flesh, and of the sort that dare not speak its name. "Morpho Eugenia" is considerably more successful than "The Conjugial Angel," but both novellas are excellently dark and creepy, and rich with meaningful historical detail--the sort of thing that Byatt does best. My appreciation for both of these stories was enriched by reading with alongside Byatt's essay "True Stories and the Facts in Fiction."
I only had time to finish the first story of the book, that which focused on the insects.
Byatt´s writing is beautiful. Her storytelling is mesmerizing.
I am glad I finally took the time to read her books because I am in love with her stories, the way she conveys her worlds, describes the people, their feelings and actions. I really enjoyed the frame narrative of the first story - how the experiments and discoveries in the characters´ real life were interlaced into a wonderful little fairy tail full of mystery and magic and mythology.
I hope to be able to read the second story as well at some point, but even based on just the first one, I would definitely recommend it. It is lovely.
Byatt´s writing is beautiful. Her storytelling is mesmerizing.
I am glad I finally took the time to read her books because I am in love with her stories, the way she conveys her worlds, describes the people, their feelings and actions. I really enjoyed the frame narrative of the first story - how the experiments and discoveries in the characters´ real life were interlaced into a wonderful little fairy tail full of mystery and magic and mythology.
I hope to be able to read the second story as well at some point, but even based on just the first one, I would definitely recommend it. It is lovely.
A very interesting view of scientific discovery as seen thru a Victorian lens… some of the justifications of the inferiority of women held at the time were squeamish to read. Very gothic entomology.
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Simply brilliant. I cannot express how jealous I feel of Byatt's writing style - this is exactly how I want to write! Her prose is so intricate, so expertly crafted that I can't help but be in awe of the author's talent. Bravo!
I'm giving this book 5 stars not because I didn't have any problems with it (I did), but because it enthralled me so much. I felt like I was reading a Victorian scrapbook, arranged by the hands of a perspicacious young lady. Everything is so neatly interwoven here, so splendidly tied together.
As many have pointed out, The Conjugial Angel is much weaker than Morpho Eugenia. It is still incredible, mind you, but I found it much harder to read because I wasn't that familiar with Swedenborgian philosophy and the poetry of Alfred Tennyson. The numerous poetic quotations also wore me out. But the overall message is one I appreciated a lot, and chapter X nearly brought me to tears with its poignant ruminations on love and grief.
There is only one thing I can say - this book is really something special.
I'm giving this book 5 stars not because I didn't have any problems with it (I did), but because it enthralled me so much. I felt like I was reading a Victorian scrapbook, arranged by the hands of a perspicacious young lady. Everything is so neatly interwoven here, so splendidly tied together.
As many have pointed out, The Conjugial Angel is much weaker than Morpho Eugenia. It is still incredible, mind you, but I found it much harder to read because I wasn't that familiar with Swedenborgian philosophy and the poetry of Alfred Tennyson. The numerous poetic quotations also wore me out. But the overall message is one I appreciated a lot, and chapter X nearly brought me to tears with its poignant ruminations on love and grief.
There is only one thing I can say - this book is really something special.
dark
emotional
mysterious
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
The first novella was excellent. The second, not so much.
Reread
*
'My name', she said, 'is Matilda. Up here at night there is no Matty. Only Matilda. Look at Me.'
The above is dialogue from the book's first novella, Morpho Eugenia, and eerily echoes a recent read of mine, which eerily echoed another novel I read not too long ago. While an overall theme of Morpho Eugenia is the dichotomy between the male protagonist's present life with a Victorian English family and his past experiences in the Amazon, Matty/Matilda is revealed as a patient, reckoning force. Though I fully remembered the ending from my prior read, I was still surprised by part of it. Despite some self-indulgent sections, knowing full well that's what you get with Byatt, I once again found this novella a multi-layered, fascinating work.
*
Mrs. Papagay ... wondered whether other people told themselves stories in this way in their heads, whether everyone made up everyone else, living and dead, at every turn, whether this she knew about Mrs Hearnshaw could be called knowledge or lies, or both...
Before starting the second novella, The Conjugial Angel, I was already swarmed by 19th-century women--real, fictional, even hybrids. With this work, I can now add two more--one fictional and the other a hybrid. As interesting and erudite as Byatt's Swedenborgian and Tennysonian riffs were, I preferred being in the heads of the women. Adding to the 'minor' theme of the unseen woman of the first novella, a 'minor' theme here is resistance to the Victorian age's angel-in-the-house mentality, a resistance that perhaps leads to Emily's willful eccentricity, perhaps also to a bit of [b:The Yellow Wallpaper|99300|The Yellow Wallpaper and Other Stories|Charlotte Perkins Gilman|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1327909237s/99300.jpg|1467808] but at least not to [b:The Madwoman in the Attic|149709|The Madwoman in the Attic The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination|Sandra M. Gilbert|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1348225811s/149709.jpg|2986123].
*
After reading Byatt back-to-back (along with my recent read of [b:The Children's Book|6280379|The Children's Book|A.S. Byatt|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1320548114s/6280379.jpg|5768221]), it struck me that despite her very dark themes, these stories end on uplifting notes, endings that may be 'fantasies' (especially for the time) but are not fantastical.
*
'My name', she said, 'is Matilda. Up here at night there is no Matty. Only Matilda. Look at Me.'
The above is dialogue from the book's first novella, Morpho Eugenia, and eerily echoes a recent read of mine, which eerily echoed another novel I read not too long ago. While an overall theme of Morpho Eugenia is the dichotomy between the male protagonist's present life with a Victorian English family and his past experiences in the Amazon, Matty/Matilda is revealed as a patient, reckoning force. Though I fully remembered the ending from my prior read, I was still surprised by part of it. Despite some self-indulgent sections, knowing full well that's what you get with Byatt, I once again found this novella a multi-layered, fascinating work.
*
Mrs. Papagay ... wondered whether other people told themselves stories in this way in their heads, whether everyone made up everyone else, living and dead, at every turn, whether this she knew about Mrs Hearnshaw could be called knowledge or lies, or both...
Before starting the second novella, The Conjugial Angel, I was already swarmed by 19th-century women--real, fictional, even hybrids. With this work, I can now add two more--one fictional and the other a hybrid. As interesting and erudite as Byatt's Swedenborgian and Tennysonian riffs were, I preferred being in the heads of the women. Adding to the 'minor' theme of the unseen woman of the first novella, a 'minor' theme here is resistance to the Victorian age's angel-in-the-house mentality, a resistance that perhaps leads to Emily's willful eccentricity, perhaps also to a bit of [b:The Yellow Wallpaper|99300|The Yellow Wallpaper and Other Stories|Charlotte Perkins Gilman|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1327909237s/99300.jpg|1467808] but at least not to [b:The Madwoman in the Attic|149709|The Madwoman in the Attic The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination|Sandra M. Gilbert|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1348225811s/149709.jpg|2986123].
*
After reading Byatt back-to-back (along with my recent read of [b:The Children's Book|6280379|The Children's Book|A.S. Byatt|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1320548114s/6280379.jpg|5768221]), it struck me that despite her very dark themes, these stories end on uplifting notes, endings that may be 'fantasies' (especially for the time) but are not fantastical.
Read for uni and honestly loved, so incredibly layers and super interesting commentary on Victoria era post Darwin
adventurous
challenging
informative
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Some part fanfic and midrash of 19th century British literature; surprisingly smooth read for how thoughtful and challenging the text is
if you write or create, chapter 10 of The Conjugial Angel will blow your mind. A.S. Byatt is officially apart of my literary pantheon beside Emily Bronte, Woolf and Anne Carson.
"The world looked different, and larger, and brighter, not water-colour washes of green and blue and grey, but a dazzling pattern of fine lines and dizzying pinpoints, jet-black, striped and spotted crimson, iridescent emerald, sloppy caramel, slime-silver."
"There is a kind of tree called the Sipo Matador--which translates, the Murderer Sipo--which grows tall and thin like a creeper and clings to another tree, to make its way up the thirty, forty feet to the canopy, eating its way into the very substance of its host until that dies--and the Sipo perforce crashes down with it."
"There are a great many frustrated lovers who are set to sorting seeds."
"Larger insects were advancing along the black floor, their wings outspread. More could be seen forcing themselves through a small hole in the pane of the conservatory door. More still sailed down from the roof, hurtling blindly forwards in the semi-dark. The small concussions of the creatures on the glass walls and roof increased in number and volume. They advanced, a disorderly, driven army, beating about Eugenia's head, burring against her skin, thirty, forty, fifty, a cloud, the male Emperors propelling themselves out of the night towards the torpid female. More came. And more. Eugenia tried to push them off, she brushed her skirts, she plucked at those lost in her sleeves, in the crevices of her dress."
"There is a kind of tree called the Sipo Matador--which translates, the Murderer Sipo--which grows tall and thin like a creeper and clings to another tree, to make its way up the thirty, forty feet to the canopy, eating its way into the very substance of its host until that dies--and the Sipo perforce crashes down with it."
"There are a great many frustrated lovers who are set to sorting seeds."
"Larger insects were advancing along the black floor, their wings outspread. More could be seen forcing themselves through a small hole in the pane of the conservatory door. More still sailed down from the roof, hurtling blindly forwards in the semi-dark. The small concussions of the creatures on the glass walls and roof increased in number and volume. They advanced, a disorderly, driven army, beating about Eugenia's head, burring against her skin, thirty, forty, fifty, a cloud, the male Emperors propelling themselves out of the night towards the torpid female. More came. And more. Eugenia tried to push them off, she brushed her skirts, she plucked at those lost in her sleeves, in the crevices of her dress."