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Rachel, this is for you! Going back to binging Jennette McCurdy’s OCD and childhood trauma now✌️
The Mrs Dalloway of the 21st Century. Such a lovely, masterful reflection on politics, religion, neuroscience, and humans relationships at the turn of the century. While there were some passages that bored me a bit, and I do think it could have been 50 pages shorter and a lot more captivating for it, I still loved McEwan’s exploration of a single Saturday in 2003 London.
I got a bit lost and unmotivated in the middle, but the final 100 pages were impossible to put down. The relationship between Henry and his wife had me choking back tears on several occasions, and I’ve never resonated more with how vulnerable it must be to have autonomous, adult children.
Also UGH the way this book made me want to run away to the middle of absolutely nowhere and write the ✨masterpiece✨ of the century. McEwan genuinely writes about literature like absolutely no one else.
Things this book made me think about:
- Good literature has absolutely nothing to do with real life, and good literature has everything to do with real life, somehow all at once.
- It is absolutely overwhelming to live in the modern world (lol)
- How do we measure intelligence, the soul, or human worth/value as the human brain becomes increasingly mappable? As the sums and parts of us are brought into stark daylight, what are we left with? (Or does it all depend on the perspective we choose to take?)
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The Mrs Dalloway of the 21st Century. Such a lovely, masterful reflection on politics, religion, neuroscience, and humans relationships at the turn of the century. While there were some passages that bored me a bit, and I do think it could have been 50 pages shorter and a lot more captivating for it, I still loved McEwan’s exploration of a single Saturday in 2003 London.
I got a bit lost and unmotivated in the middle, but the final 100 pages were impossible to put down. The relationship between Henry and his wife had me choking back tears on several occasions, and I’ve never resonated more with how vulnerable it must be to have autonomous, adult children.
Also UGH the way this book made me want to run away to the middle of absolutely nowhere and write the ✨masterpiece✨ of the century. McEwan genuinely writes about literature like absolutely no one else.
Things this book made me think about:
- Good literature has absolutely nothing to do with real life, and good literature has everything to do with real life, somehow all at once.
- It is absolutely overwhelming to live in the modern world (lol)
- How do we measure intelligence, the soul, or human worth/value as the human brain becomes increasingly mappable? As the sums and parts of us are brought into stark daylight, what are we left with? (Or does it all depend on the perspective we choose to take?)
-