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leonie_grawehr's review
challenging
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
hotsexyandinareadingslump's review
dark
mysterious
reflective
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
slouching_towards_the_library's review
5.0
Dont let these bad reviews fool you, this is a great book. Surprisingly timely amd deep.
veronikarih's review
adventurous
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
nathansnook's review
challenging
informative
reflective
tense
fast-paced
4.0
A complex book to rate for non Didion fans, but from a major fanboi, this is Joan at her finest.
You could make the argument that inserting Didion as herself in the text could be gimicky, but it lends light to her own reportage and essayaic assaults on subject and theme by way of language.
Having come from ๐ฏ๐ฝ๐ ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ ๐ฏ๐ฝ๐พ๐๐ ๐ป๐ ๐ฒ๐ถ๐๐๐๐น into this one, this fractured style of writing, in which she tosses shattered fragments on the first page, we circle round and round to get to the heart of darkness. Here, spanning between the US and Vietnam, we get at once a love story and a ways of looking at the world as it collapses. How could one not, much like Inez (tied between two men, befuddled in the theatrics of politics and love), when the 80s was a time of much revolution? This is one of the bounties of democracy, the privilege of de-caring.
Between first and third person narration, you see the ways in which story is compiled. And though she sometimes gets ahead of herself by mimicking Hemingway's sparseness, she gets away with it all in moments like these:
"๐๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ด, ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ, ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต.
๐๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ถ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ช๐ณ.
๐ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐น๐ต, ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ, ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฆ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐ ๐ต๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐บ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ง๐ช๐ต๐ง๐ถ๐ญ ๐จ๐ญ๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ด๐ฆ๐ด. ๐๐ต ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ, ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ ๐ฆ๐น๐ข๐ค๐ต๐ญ๐บ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต. ๐๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ ๐ฆ๐น๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ถ๐ด๐ฉ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฏ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ท๐ช๐ต๐ข๐ฃ๐ช๐ญ๐ช๐ต๐บ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ถ๐ด๐ถ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ด ๐ข ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ถ๐ฎ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ด๐ฆ๐ต๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ข๐ด ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ด ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ต๐ข๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ช๐ณ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ด ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ค๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ป๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฐ. ๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ด ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ค๐ข๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ด๐ช๐ต๐ถ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ข๐จ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ข๐ด๐ช๐ค ๐ฏ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข๐ด๐ด๐ถ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ ๐ช๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ด๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฐ๐จ๐ถ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ.
๐๐ฏ๐บ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ."
And here she admits to us herself as writer of how she had come to be. This was what I've been after for years. ๐ฏ๐ฝ๐ ๐๐ฝ๐. Behind the fiction. Behind the nonfiction. All behind her as writer. Because by the end of all her days, she was still a human being. One who understood that anything could happen. Be it on a plane departing civil-war wrought Salvador. Be it at a dining table unsure of what to do when her husband had died. And she made things happen. Watched them as they happened. Gave them life again in print. The crisis in Needle Park or even for that little girl in San Francisco. Her husband. For Quintana.
It's a book that upon first glance, the mystery is still there. And the sense comes by the second or third reading. When you take it seriously. When you read it carefully. It's then that you understand where Inez is coming from, how she stands across oceans and time and love that we have so much possibility. That if we really want something, we'll have it.
You could make the argument that inserting Didion as herself in the text could be gimicky, but it lends light to her own reportage and essayaic assaults on subject and theme by way of language.
Having come from ๐ฏ๐ฝ๐ ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ ๐ฏ๐ฝ๐พ๐๐ ๐ป๐ ๐ฒ๐ถ๐๐๐๐น into this one, this fractured style of writing, in which she tosses shattered fragments on the first page, we circle round and round to get to the heart of darkness. Here, spanning between the US and Vietnam, we get at once a love story and a ways of looking at the world as it collapses. How could one not, much like Inez (tied between two men, befuddled in the theatrics of politics and love), when the 80s was a time of much revolution? This is one of the bounties of democracy, the privilege of de-caring.
Between first and third person narration, you see the ways in which story is compiled. And though she sometimes gets ahead of herself by mimicking Hemingway's sparseness, she gets away with it all in moments like these:
"๐๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ด, ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ, ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต.
๐๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ถ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ช๐ณ.
๐ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐น๐ต, ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ, ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฆ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐ ๐ต๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐บ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ง๐ช๐ต๐ง๐ถ๐ญ ๐จ๐ญ๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ด๐ฆ๐ด. ๐๐ต ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ, ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ ๐ฆ๐น๐ข๐ค๐ต๐ญ๐บ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต. ๐๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ ๐ฆ๐น๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ถ๐ด๐ฉ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฏ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ท๐ช๐ต๐ข๐ฃ๐ช๐ญ๐ช๐ต๐บ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ถ๐ด๐ถ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ด ๐ข ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ถ๐ฎ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ด๐ฆ๐ต๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ข๐ด ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ด ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ต๐ข๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ช๐ณ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ด ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ค๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ป๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฐ. ๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ด ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ค๐ข๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ด๐ช๐ต๐ถ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ข๐จ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ข๐ด๐ช๐ค ๐ฏ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข๐ด๐ด๐ถ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ ๐ช๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ด๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฐ๐จ๐ถ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ.
๐๐ฏ๐บ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ."
And here she admits to us herself as writer of how she had come to be. This was what I've been after for years. ๐ฏ๐ฝ๐ ๐๐ฝ๐. Behind the fiction. Behind the nonfiction. All behind her as writer. Because by the end of all her days, she was still a human being. One who understood that anything could happen. Be it on a plane departing civil-war wrought Salvador. Be it at a dining table unsure of what to do when her husband had died. And she made things happen. Watched them as they happened. Gave them life again in print. The crisis in Needle Park or even for that little girl in San Francisco. Her husband. For Quintana.
It's a book that upon first glance, the mystery is still there. And the sense comes by the second or third reading. When you take it seriously. When you read it carefully. It's then that you understand where Inez is coming from, how she stands across oceans and time and love that we have so much possibility. That if we really want something, we'll have it.
marinalikeaboatyard's review
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
jola_g's review
4.0
At first sight the words charm and harm differ in one letter only but the contrast in their meaning is dramatic. Strangely enough, 'Democracy' by Joan Didion has charmed me and harmed me at the same time.
โDemocracyโ has charmed me.
The first thing that enchanted me instantly was Joan Didionโs writing style. Iโve never experienced anything like that before. The unsettling, highly addictive rhythm of her sentences, with many cadenced repetitions and anaphoras, resonated with me like music which goes smoothly straight to your heart.
I was flabbergasted by Didionโs ability to affect me so much with so few words. Isaac Babel points out, 'No iron can stab the heart with such force as a period put just at the right place' and it seems so true in Joan Didion's case also.
Although 'Democracy' provokes strong emotions, itโs far from sentimental. Her style is harsh at times, like her characters. Ah, the way she depicts the feelings flowing between Inez and Jack every time they meet! It made me think of 'Casablanca': scarce words, extreme tension.
The descriptions in "Democracy' are concise but the world she paints with words bursts with colours and smells: 'When Inez remembered that week in Jakarta in 1969 she remembered mainly the cloud cover that hung low over the city and trapped the fumes of sewage and automobile exhaust and rotting vegetation as in a fetid greenhouse. She remembered the cloud cover and she remembered lightning flickering on the horizon before dawn and she remembered rain washing wild orchids into the milky waste ditches.'
Trying to analyze the mechanisms Joan Didion uses to make her prose so original and mesmerizing, would be like catching her words in the net and pinning them like exotic butterflies. Sorry, Iโm not going to do that. I prefer to let them float around me and watch them in awe and just sense them with delight.
As for topics and genres, โDemocracyโ reminds me of a multilayered cake. Donโt expect any sweetness though! Itโs more like a strong espresso which will burn your lips and make your heart pulsate faster. You will discover many floors of Didion's amazing construction. Politics, modern history, family, love, writing a novel, being a writer, to name just a few.
Itโs a novel, a love story, a crime story, a reportage and an essay at the same time. The narrator is Joan Didion herself who happens to know some characters in person and who shares thoughts about creating this novel and writing in general. The structure of 'Democracy' made me also think of a film. Gosh, the scene in the bar could be dazzling, with Inez dancing not as 'you or I or the agency that regulated dancing in bars might have defined dancing'.
My experience with this novel proves that reaching out of comfort zone can be extremely rewarding. It was Orsodimondo, who got me interested in Joan Didionโs works, and I am very grateful for his encouragement.
โDemocracyโ has harmed me.
Everything I try to read now seems tasteless and colourless compared to Joan Didionโs novel.
โDemocracyโ has charmed me.
The first thing that enchanted me instantly was Joan Didionโs writing style. Iโve never experienced anything like that before. The unsettling, highly addictive rhythm of her sentences, with many cadenced repetitions and anaphoras, resonated with me like music which goes smoothly straight to your heart.
I was flabbergasted by Didionโs ability to affect me so much with so few words. Isaac Babel points out, 'No iron can stab the heart with such force as a period put just at the right place' and it seems so true in Joan Didion's case also.
Although 'Democracy' provokes strong emotions, itโs far from sentimental. Her style is harsh at times, like her characters. Ah, the way she depicts the feelings flowing between Inez and Jack every time they meet! It made me think of 'Casablanca': scarce words, extreme tension.
The descriptions in "Democracy' are concise but the world she paints with words bursts with colours and smells: 'When Inez remembered that week in Jakarta in 1969 she remembered mainly the cloud cover that hung low over the city and trapped the fumes of sewage and automobile exhaust and rotting vegetation as in a fetid greenhouse. She remembered the cloud cover and she remembered lightning flickering on the horizon before dawn and she remembered rain washing wild orchids into the milky waste ditches.'
Trying to analyze the mechanisms Joan Didion uses to make her prose so original and mesmerizing, would be like catching her words in the net and pinning them like exotic butterflies. Sorry, Iโm not going to do that. I prefer to let them float around me and watch them in awe and just sense them with delight.
As for topics and genres, โDemocracyโ reminds me of a multilayered cake. Donโt expect any sweetness though! Itโs more like a strong espresso which will burn your lips and make your heart pulsate faster. You will discover many floors of Didion's amazing construction. Politics, modern history, family, love, writing a novel, being a writer, to name just a few.
Itโs a novel, a love story, a crime story, a reportage and an essay at the same time. The narrator is Joan Didion herself who happens to know some characters in person and who shares thoughts about creating this novel and writing in general. The structure of 'Democracy' made me also think of a film. Gosh, the scene in the bar could be dazzling, with Inez dancing not as 'you or I or the agency that regulated dancing in bars might have defined dancing'.
My experience with this novel proves that reaching out of comfort zone can be extremely rewarding. It was Orsodimondo, who got me interested in Joan Didionโs works, and I am very grateful for his encouragement.
โDemocracyโ has harmed me.
Everything I try to read now seems tasteless and colourless compared to Joan Didionโs novel.