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A review by stjehanne
The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton
3.0
I have never felt more conflicted about a book.
On the surface, The Luminaries is a piece of art: Governed by a simple sense of beauty and a dense narrative, united countless tales and plot strings. A mystery that kept me hooked and rich world-building that truly captured the spirit of its historical setting.
And while I could praise Catton's prose for hours, it just wasn't enough to really make me fall in love with her novel. It simply lacked a poetic quality. I don't want to be too harsh, since I still found some joy in reading this, but I felt like language was simply a tool to convey meaning. And while I understand that this might be the very essence of language, the language always felt too dry, too clinical to me. I do prefer books that make me rediscover the joy in using words and images time and time again.
While I felt compelled to finish it, out of sheer curiosity, it never touched my heart or my spirit in any way. There was no sense of wonder for me, something I would usually feel when reading long, complex stories like this.
Characters felt flat and lifeless, at times interchangeable, never really meaningful. Empty shells of some archetype or two. The book alludes to some kind of celestial theme, assigning stars and planets to each player, yet never puts the astronomical references to good use. While the reader is told that the movement of the heavens influences the very matter of the novel, no such thing actually becomes apparent. I spent a lot of my time reading waiting for a great epiphany that never came.
This is a recurring theme - excellent, unique ideas that, in the end, go nowhere.
But as I mentioned at the beginning, there were parts where Catton's writing briefly gained an etherealness, parts that made me melt, made me calm and passionate about what I was reading. I'm truly excited about reading more of her books, although ultimately, this one just wasn't for me.
On the surface, The Luminaries is a piece of art: Governed by a simple sense of beauty and a dense narrative, united countless tales and plot strings. A mystery that kept me hooked and rich world-building that truly captured the spirit of its historical setting.
And while I could praise Catton's prose for hours, it just wasn't enough to really make me fall in love with her novel. It simply lacked a poetic quality. I don't want to be too harsh, since I still found some joy in reading this, but I felt like language was simply a tool to convey meaning. And while I understand that this might be the very essence of language, the language always felt too dry, too clinical to me. I do prefer books that make me rediscover the joy in using words and images time and time again.
While I felt compelled to finish it, out of sheer curiosity, it never touched my heart or my spirit in any way. There was no sense of wonder for me, something I would usually feel when reading long, complex stories like this.
Characters felt flat and lifeless, at times interchangeable, never really meaningful. Empty shells of some archetype or two. The book alludes to some kind of celestial theme, assigning stars and planets to each player, yet never puts the astronomical references to good use. While the reader is told that the movement of the heavens influences the very matter of the novel, no such thing actually becomes apparent. I spent a lot of my time reading waiting for a great epiphany that never came.
This is a recurring theme - excellent, unique ideas that, in the end, go nowhere.
But as I mentioned at the beginning, there were parts where Catton's writing briefly gained an etherealness, parts that made me melt, made me calm and passionate about what I was reading. I'm truly excited about reading more of her books, although ultimately, this one just wasn't for me.