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3.57 AVERAGE
3.57 AVERAGE
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
medium-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
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
tense
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
dark
medium-paced
Interesting characters but sometimes they felt too old for their circumstances (high school private school) - but maybe I am just old?
dark
emotional
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Loveable characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Went into this book without any preconceived notions, and was pleasantly surprised! The author does a wonderful job at making you relate to the characters and the ending was one that I didn't expect at all. Read this book, if you get a chance.
challenging
dark
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I see myself in Laura Stearns. She is hopelessly romantic and obsessed to the point of religion with her favorite author, whose book she has partially memorized and read fifteen times. She is desperate to be a part of something greater than herself — even if it means standing at the edge of the room, a bit separated from the action, watching it all play out.
Tara Isabella Burton’s second novel, The World Cannot Give, is an exploration of obsession, of wanting something so badly that you feel you will die without it. At first, Laura’s devotion rests on her favorite novel: its author, who died at age 19, wrote the book at the prep school Laura is newly attending (solely because of its connection to him). Her fixation changes to Virginia Strauss, the beautiful and commanding president of the school’s tiny choir. The thing that draws Laura to her initially is music, but she soon discovers Virginia’s mania and conviction extend to her entire life, the kind of intensity Laura craves. In the end, this is a novel about Laura’s feelings for Virginia, and watching this dynamic — watching her internal state unfold — is where the best parts lie.
If one has that same perpetual longing for something, Laura feels very familiar. She is waiting for art, larger-than-life, to “happen” to her (the term she uses, from the fictional novel she loves, is “a shipwreck of the soul”) and is constantly aware of its presence in her periphery. She wants to get closer, happy even to watch it happen to someone else, to absorb it all. Virginia, it seems, is the person that it does happen to. Spurred by Virginia’s conviction, Laura seeks what Burton rightfully calls transcendence, to go beyond the banalities of human life and witness or belong to something truly meaningful. She is willing to do anything in her search for it: among several insane things Laura does or almost does (blood pacts, bullying, cliff-diving) she even attempts to read Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit cold, which is certainly the most terrifying.
Claims of religious zealotry as a theme seem overblown. Yes, Virginia is a Christian, and takes her faith seriously and literally; as the story moves, though, it becomes apparent that religion is only one piece of the puzzle here. Virginia’s worldview seems more influenced by a misplaced sense of romanticism and her oft-noted obsession with moral realism than Christianity specifically. In one scene where Laura and Virginia go on a run at five in the morning, they reflect on how difficult it is, how they could be leading different and much more comfortable lives. This feeling — and their conclusion, that they would rather not live any other way — is the same one I found during my undergraduate degree, dragging my fatigued body out of the piano practice rooms close to midnight, ready to squeeze in five or six hours of sleep before doing the entire thing again. If Virginia is religious, her religion is devotion, discipline, more than anything else.
The writing is inconsistent. There are moments of profundity and beautiful use of language to be found here, for sure; there is also a fair amount of repetitive imagery and a few cases where the writing was awkward enough to distract me. Several supporting characters feel blurry, lacking in definition. Some major plot points fall flat and don’t seem to have the intended effect. A dramatic turn in towards the middle of the book, which seems set up to feel like a massive blow, feels hollow. The climax, on the other hand, is jarring to the point of disbelief: it happens so fast and with such madcap intensity that it feels like the ending of the book must take place in a dream rather than reality. In its extremity or delivery, it doesn’t feel completely congruous with the material that preceded it.
And yet: this book has heart. For me, the depth is found in Burton’s examination of Laura, her poor understanding of herself, her desire to reshape her life around Virginia’s whims. Passages about Laura’s yearning — she does a fair amount of yearning — tended to be my favorite ones. Laura is enraptured by her, completely intoxicated by the force of Virginia’s presence, charisma, and beauty.
It is no coincidence that the love Laura has for art and the love she has for Virginia are so closely intertwined that, to Laura herself, they are almost indistinguishable. Laura’s discovery of her own feelings are told breathlessly and compellingly. Virginia may not be terribly sympathetic, but it wasn’t difficult at all for me to understand Laura’s preoccupation with her. Laura’s easy forgiveness of Virginia for various misdeeds may frustrate some; to me, it’s just a reflection of the way we are with the people we love. Burton’s depiction of Laura’s insistent, hopeless, misguided love for Virginia — her tenderness towards this polarizing, electric person — is kind and genuine.
The World Cannot Give is easy to get lost in. Or maybe I’m just sympathetic to a portrait of a character who, like me, cries too easily at irreconcilable beauty of art and music.
Tara Isabella Burton’s second novel, The World Cannot Give, is an exploration of obsession, of wanting something so badly that you feel you will die without it. At first, Laura’s devotion rests on her favorite novel: its author, who died at age 19, wrote the book at the prep school Laura is newly attending (solely because of its connection to him). Her fixation changes to Virginia Strauss, the beautiful and commanding president of the school’s tiny choir. The thing that draws Laura to her initially is music, but she soon discovers Virginia’s mania and conviction extend to her entire life, the kind of intensity Laura craves. In the end, this is a novel about Laura’s feelings for Virginia, and watching this dynamic — watching her internal state unfold — is where the best parts lie.
If one has that same perpetual longing for something, Laura feels very familiar. She is waiting for art, larger-than-life, to “happen” to her (the term she uses, from the fictional novel she loves, is “a shipwreck of the soul”) and is constantly aware of its presence in her periphery. She wants to get closer, happy even to watch it happen to someone else, to absorb it all. Virginia, it seems, is the person that it does happen to. Spurred by Virginia’s conviction, Laura seeks what Burton rightfully calls transcendence, to go beyond the banalities of human life and witness or belong to something truly meaningful. She is willing to do anything in her search for it: among several insane things Laura does or almost does (blood pacts, bullying, cliff-diving) she even attempts to read Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit cold, which is certainly the most terrifying.
Claims of religious zealotry as a theme seem overblown. Yes, Virginia is a Christian, and takes her faith seriously and literally; as the story moves, though, it becomes apparent that religion is only one piece of the puzzle here. Virginia’s worldview seems more influenced by a misplaced sense of romanticism and her oft-noted obsession with moral realism than Christianity specifically. In one scene where Laura and Virginia go on a run at five in the morning, they reflect on how difficult it is, how they could be leading different and much more comfortable lives. This feeling — and their conclusion, that they would rather not live any other way — is the same one I found during my undergraduate degree, dragging my fatigued body out of the piano practice rooms close to midnight, ready to squeeze in five or six hours of sleep before doing the entire thing again. If Virginia is religious, her religion is devotion, discipline, more than anything else.
The writing is inconsistent. There are moments of profundity and beautiful use of language to be found here, for sure; there is also a fair amount of repetitive imagery and a few cases where the writing was awkward enough to distract me. Several supporting characters feel blurry, lacking in definition. Some major plot points fall flat and don’t seem to have the intended effect. A dramatic turn in towards the middle of the book, which seems set up to feel like a massive blow, feels hollow. The climax, on the other hand, is jarring to the point of disbelief: it happens so fast and with such madcap intensity that it feels like the ending of the book must take place in a dream rather than reality. In its extremity or delivery, it doesn’t feel completely congruous with the material that preceded it.
And yet: this book has heart. For me, the depth is found in Burton’s examination of Laura, her poor understanding of herself, her desire to reshape her life around Virginia’s whims. Passages about Laura’s yearning — she does a fair amount of yearning — tended to be my favorite ones. Laura is enraptured by her, completely intoxicated by the force of Virginia’s presence, charisma, and beauty.
It is no coincidence that the love Laura has for art and the love she has for Virginia are so closely intertwined that, to Laura herself, they are almost indistinguishable. Laura’s discovery of her own feelings are told breathlessly and compellingly. Virginia may not be terribly sympathetic, but it wasn’t difficult at all for me to understand Laura’s preoccupation with her. Laura’s easy forgiveness of Virginia for various misdeeds may frustrate some; to me, it’s just a reflection of the way we are with the people we love. Burton’s depiction of Laura’s insistent, hopeless, misguided love for Virginia — her tenderness towards this polarizing, electric person — is kind and genuine.
The World Cannot Give is easy to get lost in. Or maybe I’m just sympathetic to a portrait of a character who, like me, cries too easily at irreconcilable beauty of art and music.
dark
emotional
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes