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3.4 AVERAGE
3.4 AVERAGE
I LOVED this book. It was exactly what I needed to read when I needed to read it. It is told in a way that makes you forget that you aren't really getting the point of view of the main character - you aren't privy to her innermost thoughts and feelings. And yet, it is supremely powerful, just the same.
So different, and yet the same: this book appealed to me in the way of The Secret History, A Shadow of the Wind and a handful of others. Which is to say, I stayed up late reading it, I woke up early. I took actual lunch breaks and ate while reading while scribbling in my book, dog-earing pages and thinking of all the people I needed to give my copy to once I finished. Of course, I can't--it might make me blush for anyone to see the underlined passages in a fiction book, even if it is touching on religion, spirituality and self-awareness...
I read The Alchemist a few years ago, right before a move. Encouraging and well-timed, I remember walking about on a parking garage roof in the Soma talking to my Dad on the telephone, rehashing the plots and spoils of this novel. I loved it, the simplicity, the way it read with the disciplined, carefully spaced austerity of the Bible—it was a very satisfying, uplifting read. And, because it was a work of fiction, I could take it seriously. It provided, like a really complex wine or something akin, time to simply THINK it over.
Here was a book of fiction, yet with profound thoughts and complicated ideas BROCHING spirituality, a topic I certainly dwell on consistently, yet, despite my ability to talk rather incessantly, is rarely an issue I bring to the fore ground of any conversations. It’s too important and differently interpreted by too many people. And, it’s nice to know that even I can be discreet about something…
However, while the Alchemist was as uplifting and an ultimately helpful tool for me, giving strength and courage to be optimistic, personally spiritualized, etc.: it was, always, a book I liked and little more. I remembered it in a few job interviews, or when moving became particularly stressful, underlined a handful of passages for my boyfriend and suggested he read it (he didn’t). The way to succeed personally is to keep getting up. Good advice.
But The Witch of Portobello…was something different. Not since Wally Lamb’s She’s Come Undone, for one, have I been so impressed with a male ablity to write for the female brain. Paulo Coelho is fifty-nine years old, but I have to say, I have a bit of a crush. He marvels at women, their built-in-intuition and self-awareness. In fact, his adoration and respect for women, completely evident throughout this novel, truly made me proud to be one. I can’t remember ever feeling that way before—proud due to the interpretations of man. All to frequently it’s questions like, “are you on your period?” that nearly drive me to commit mass murder—the simple implication that my opinions are null and void to a serge in hormones? On the contarary, Coelho suggests what I’ve often thought: it’s precisely those differences that make women important, “witch-like” (used in the positive sense), intuitive, thoughtful. Coelho suggests this is the gift of The Mother, whatever God there is, etc.
Fiction or not, in a world bombarded with body image, terrible role models (for the love of god, is it THAT strange Angelina has so many kids? Didn’t Mia Farrow do it twenty years ago? How quickly we forget)—and, in lieu of this novel, I began to think, because it was implied—in a world full of so many distractions, perhaps this is directly accountable as a reason for our (women’s) confusion and lack of self-awareness?
This novel also plays mightily on the relationships of women (and women and men, women and mothers, women and children…etc.). One mentor relationship spawns between two women who “love one another” but do not like each other personally. The idea is incredible to me, one, because to admit I do not value someone is particularly difficult for me personally, and two, because it is so very “final.”
These testaments to not “liking” each other come from two very enlightened women—both are in a place to respect their opinions, rather than drag them around to the point of rot. They’ve already taken the time to contemplate everything about themselves; therefore, they can make personal choices much more quickly than the average.
And, through it all, Coelho manages to thread the historical sinews that keep me coming back for more, much like The Secret History. Athena, Gaia, Dionysus, ritual, dance, Saint Sarah de Kahli, Gypsies and Transylvania. He even manages to squeeze the Ukraine and radiation. Honestly, I can only speak from my personal interests, but I’m a huge sucker for historical accounts of…not even powerful women, but really admirable women. This novel really provided an alternative reality, because, I find that if you’re not overtly religious, we fall back on religions “fanaticism.” Joan of Arc can’t be blessed by God if I’m not totally sure there is a god, so she must just be nuts, Sylvia Plath’s life and work are over-shadowed by her death and the love “triangle” surrounding it…and so on and so forth. I didn’t really like the character of Athena that much—truth be told. Unable to completely remove me from me, I knew that she would grate on me, that if I knew her personally I would try to out speak her, shine her, charisma her—but God, wasn’t it nice to just, sit back and read about the hardships of someone else’s path to personal discover? Even if it is some one so…intense I might not want to pal around with them, but can just…use their example, even if fictional, as an opportunity to trust my instincts?
In short, this book was more than a book for me, even though I know that’s all it was—a work of fiction. But, for me, it meant something and provided example and structure, sort of a bit of a “teacher” and “protector” in the pages of a book.
I read The Alchemist a few years ago, right before a move. Encouraging and well-timed, I remember walking about on a parking garage roof in the Soma talking to my Dad on the telephone, rehashing the plots and spoils of this novel. I loved it, the simplicity, the way it read with the disciplined, carefully spaced austerity of the Bible—it was a very satisfying, uplifting read. And, because it was a work of fiction, I could take it seriously. It provided, like a really complex wine or something akin, time to simply THINK it over.
Here was a book of fiction, yet with profound thoughts and complicated ideas BROCHING spirituality, a topic I certainly dwell on consistently, yet, despite my ability to talk rather incessantly, is rarely an issue I bring to the fore ground of any conversations. It’s too important and differently interpreted by too many people. And, it’s nice to know that even I can be discreet about something…
However, while the Alchemist was as uplifting and an ultimately helpful tool for me, giving strength and courage to be optimistic, personally spiritualized, etc.: it was, always, a book I liked and little more. I remembered it in a few job interviews, or when moving became particularly stressful, underlined a handful of passages for my boyfriend and suggested he read it (he didn’t). The way to succeed personally is to keep getting up. Good advice.
But The Witch of Portobello…was something different. Not since Wally Lamb’s She’s Come Undone, for one, have I been so impressed with a male ablity to write for the female brain. Paulo Coelho is fifty-nine years old, but I have to say, I have a bit of a crush. He marvels at women, their built-in-intuition and self-awareness. In fact, his adoration and respect for women, completely evident throughout this novel, truly made me proud to be one. I can’t remember ever feeling that way before—proud due to the interpretations of man. All to frequently it’s questions like, “are you on your period?” that nearly drive me to commit mass murder—the simple implication that my opinions are null and void to a serge in hormones? On the contarary, Coelho suggests what I’ve often thought: it’s precisely those differences that make women important, “witch-like” (used in the positive sense), intuitive, thoughtful. Coelho suggests this is the gift of The Mother, whatever God there is, etc.
Fiction or not, in a world bombarded with body image, terrible role models (for the love of god, is it THAT strange Angelina has so many kids? Didn’t Mia Farrow do it twenty years ago? How quickly we forget)—and, in lieu of this novel, I began to think, because it was implied—in a world full of so many distractions, perhaps this is directly accountable as a reason for our (women’s) confusion and lack of self-awareness?
This novel also plays mightily on the relationships of women (and women and men, women and mothers, women and children…etc.). One mentor relationship spawns between two women who “love one another” but do not like each other personally. The idea is incredible to me, one, because to admit I do not value someone is particularly difficult for me personally, and two, because it is so very “final.”
These testaments to not “liking” each other come from two very enlightened women—both are in a place to respect their opinions, rather than drag them around to the point of rot. They’ve already taken the time to contemplate everything about themselves; therefore, they can make personal choices much more quickly than the average.
And, through it all, Coelho manages to thread the historical sinews that keep me coming back for more, much like The Secret History. Athena, Gaia, Dionysus, ritual, dance, Saint Sarah de Kahli, Gypsies and Transylvania. He even manages to squeeze the Ukraine and radiation. Honestly, I can only speak from my personal interests, but I’m a huge sucker for historical accounts of…not even powerful women, but really admirable women. This novel really provided an alternative reality, because, I find that if you’re not overtly religious, we fall back on religions “fanaticism.” Joan of Arc can’t be blessed by God if I’m not totally sure there is a god, so she must just be nuts, Sylvia Plath’s life and work are over-shadowed by her death and the love “triangle” surrounding it…and so on and so forth. I didn’t really like the character of Athena that much—truth be told. Unable to completely remove me from me, I knew that she would grate on me, that if I knew her personally I would try to out speak her, shine her, charisma her—but God, wasn’t it nice to just, sit back and read about the hardships of someone else’s path to personal discover? Even if it is some one so…intense I might not want to pal around with them, but can just…use their example, even if fictional, as an opportunity to trust my instincts?
In short, this book was more than a book for me, even though I know that’s all it was—a work of fiction. But, for me, it meant something and provided example and structure, sort of a bit of a “teacher” and “protector” in the pages of a book.
You know, I liked it...
I’ve always been interested in manifestations of the divine feminine.
I’ve always been interested in manifestations of the divine feminine.
Dit boek maar eens uitgelezen in twee dagen, omdat het mijn langstliggende nog te lezen boek is.
Ik keek er erg tegenop, omdat ik dacht dat het erg moeilijk zou zijn, maar dat viel wel mee. Het was filosofisch en ik denk dat ik nog wel even een tijdje kauw op wat de schrijver nou wilde zeggen met het boek. Wat wilde hij bereiken? Misschien gewoon: liefde is? Wat me terwijl ik dit typ, me een beetje belachelijk in de oren klinkt.
Ik keek er erg tegenop, omdat ik dacht dat het erg moeilijk zou zijn, maar dat viel wel mee. Het was filosofisch en ik denk dat ik nog wel even een tijdje kauw op wat de schrijver nou wilde zeggen met het boek. Wat wilde hij bereiken? Misschien gewoon: liefde is? Wat me terwijl ik dit typ, me een beetje belachelijk in de oren klinkt.
Strong 3.5 stars. I didn't love it, but I loved the structure (told through interviews with the supporting cast), loved the suspense of what was left out, and loved the discussions of how we find meaning and connection. Plus, that gorgeous cover 😍
adventurous
emotional
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Αν και μου αρέσει ο Coelho, το συγκεκριμένο βιβλίο με απογοήτευσε κάπως. Πάντα ο συγγραφέας χρησιμοποιεί τα βιβλία του ως όχημα για να προβάλει την προσωπική του φιλοσοφία, πράγμα που μερικοί αναγνώστες λατρεύουν και μερικοί μσούν. Ωστόσο οι New Age θεωρίες του αγγίζουν το γελοίο στο συγκεκριμένο βιβλίο. Ξέρει να γράφει και χαρακτήρες του δεν είνι βαρετοί, οπότε κάπως την σώζει την κατάσταση αλλά έχω διαβ΄σει καλύτερα βιβλία απο τον συγκεκριμένο λογοτέχνη.
Η προσωπική μου γνώμη είναι να διαβάσεις, φίλε αναγνώστη, Τον Αλχημιστή, και να μην χάσεις τον χρόνο σου μ’ αυτό βιβλίο. Η ιστορία είναι κάπως χλωμή, εκτός και εαν είσαι New Age Fan και Vigan οπότε καλή σου συνέχεια ...
Περισσότερες βιβλιοκριτικές εδώ
Απο τον Ελληνικό Κύκλο Βιβλιόφιλων Λονδίνου. Για περισσότερες πληροφορίες, συναντήσεις κτλ επισκεφτείτε την σελίδα τους στο Facebook .
Η προσωπική μου γνώμη είναι να διαβάσεις, φίλε αναγνώστη, Τον Αλχημιστή, και να μην χάσεις τον χρόνο σου μ’ αυτό βιβλίο. Η ιστορία είναι κάπως χλωμή, εκτός και εαν είσαι New Age Fan και Vigan οπότε καλή σου συνέχεια ...
Περισσότερες βιβλιοκριτικές εδώ
Απο τον Ελληνικό Κύκλο Βιβλιόφιλων Λονδίνου. Για περισσότερες πληροφορίες, συναντήσεις κτλ επισκεφτείτε την σελίδα τους στο Facebook .
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
