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mashedpotatoandsaladcream 's review for:
The Aspern Papers
by Henry James
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
(this review will likely just have various spoilers dotted around but also the book is over a hundred years old so can they really be spoilers?)
“it took a long time - there were so many.”
the book follows a narrator (highly unreliable) as he aims to do all he can to find and possess the love letters of his long dead favourite author (who he is obsessed with, so obsessed that he would see this 100 year old woman and be like damn i can tell why he fell for her or how he would see a rooms architecture or eventually a small portrait of the poet and think the poet it talking to him) and his methods include deceiving his way into the house of this old woman, tricking her niece into being on his side and even sneaking around the old lady’s room when she is on her death bed.
“‘you are a very generous person.’ [narrator] ‘so are you.’ [tita] ‘i don’t know why you think so.’ [narrator]… he was unsatisfactory, for the only moment since i had known him”
james critiques the whole biographer thing, he himself wanted the recipients of his own letters to burn them (this didn’t turn out as he wanted) and you can clearly see his distaste for those people who publish the private affairs of these artists and past celebrities for the entertainment of others -and it is very convincing and i will admit that i am guilty of wanting to know what was in the letters but i also recognise that one of the points is that it’s immoral, especially when we are faced with the methods people take to find these letters (the niece, tita, even mentioned how she believed someone would have dug up her aunts grave if they had buried the letters with her), and the ending? it makes me giggle and brings me so much enjoyment and it’s the reason i rated it so high.
“‘not even to me? ah, miss tita!’ i groaned, with a voice of infinite remonstrance and reproach.
she coloured and her tears came back to her eyes; i saw that it cost her a kind of anguish to take such a stand but that a dreadful sense of duty had descended upon her”
i hated the narrator so much, he was cocksure, smarmy, arrogant, and thinks he’s IT. you can’t really trust what he says because james has not written it as a present day story but instead it is a sort of confessional letter(?) or diary type thing(?). so when he’s re telling things that happened you’re left questioning whether he’s adjusting to make things look more appealing (if so he would have failed but then you can’t ever really tell if he regrets what he did because it was immoral or he regrets it because he spent all that money only to not get what he wanted).
“miss bordereau stood there in her night dress , in the doorway of her room watching me; her hands were raised, she had lifted the everlasting curtain that covered half her face, and for the first, the last, the only time i beheld her extraordinary eyes. they glared at me, they made me horribly ashamed. i never shall forget her strange little bent white tottering figure, with its lifted head, her attitude, her expression; neither shall i forget the tone in which as i turned, looking at her, she hissed out passionately, furiously:
“it took a long time - there were so many.”
the book follows a narrator (highly unreliable) as he aims to do all he can to find and possess the love letters of his long dead favourite author (who he is obsessed with, so obsessed that he would see this 100 year old woman and be like damn i can tell why he fell for her or how he would see a rooms architecture or eventually a small portrait of the poet and think the poet it talking to him) and his methods include deceiving his way into the house of this old woman, tricking her niece into being on his side and even sneaking around the old lady’s room when she is on her death bed.
“‘you are a very generous person.’ [narrator] ‘so are you.’ [tita] ‘i don’t know why you think so.’ [narrator]… he was unsatisfactory, for the only moment since i had known him”
james critiques the whole biographer thing, he himself wanted the recipients of his own letters to burn them (this didn’t turn out as he wanted) and you can clearly see his distaste for those people who publish the private affairs of these artists and past celebrities for the entertainment of others -and it is very convincing and i will admit that i am guilty of wanting to know what was in the letters but i also recognise that one of the points is that it’s immoral, especially when we are faced with the methods people take to find these letters (the niece, tita, even mentioned how she believed someone would have dug up her aunts grave if they had buried the letters with her), and the ending? it makes me giggle and brings me so much enjoyment and it’s the reason i rated it so high.
“‘not even to me? ah, miss tita!’ i groaned, with a voice of infinite remonstrance and reproach.
she coloured and her tears came back to her eyes; i saw that it cost her a kind of anguish to take such a stand but that a dreadful sense of duty had descended upon her”
i hated the narrator so much, he was cocksure, smarmy, arrogant, and thinks he’s IT. you can’t really trust what he says because james has not written it as a present day story but instead it is a sort of confessional letter(?) or diary type thing(?). so when he’s re telling things that happened you’re left questioning whether he’s adjusting to make things look more appealing (if so he would have failed but then you can’t ever really tell if he regrets what he did because it was immoral or he regrets it because he spent all that money only to not get what he wanted).
“miss bordereau stood there in her night dress , in the doorway of her room watching me; her hands were raised, she had lifted the everlasting curtain that covered half her face, and for the first, the last, the only time i beheld her extraordinary eyes. they glared at me, they made me horribly ashamed. i never shall forget her strange little bent white tottering figure, with its lifted head, her attitude, her expression; neither shall i forget the tone in which as i turned, looking at her, she hissed out passionately, furiously:
"you publishing scoundrel!”
id recommend this book especially for those who like a good unreliable narrator, it’s not for romance readers, if you like james id read it. if you’re a fan of reading the private letters and thoughts of writers you could probably give this a go as well and feel guilty at the urge and then clap over tita at the end.
“oh, but she loves them - she loves them!”
id recommend this book especially for those who like a good unreliable narrator, it’s not for romance readers, if you like james id read it. if you’re a fan of reading the private letters and thoughts of writers you could probably give this a go as well and feel guilty at the urge and then clap over tita at the end.
“oh, but she loves them - she loves them!”