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A review by ashleylm
Zuleika Dobson: Or, An Oxford Love Story by Max Beerbohm
2.0
Disappointing, because it could have been a thing I loved, and how tragic to find something you could have loved, but you don't even like?
I'm fairly sure this was intended to be funny, and I know time has passed, but I still think Jane Austen's hilarious so time shouldn't be an issue. I'm almost personally offended that the idea of not one, not two, but countless students committing suicide would be fodder for humour rather than a tragedy. I do like some of the prose ("Death cancels all engagements" struck me, as it has struck so many others), but I'm not laughing, I'm not even smiling, I'm 40% through the book and very little has happened, and certainly not enough to convince me there's any point in continuing.
(My patience for so-so books has worn entirely away during the years, and I no longer feel any remorse at stopping and setting them aside ... forever! In fact, it's the forever aspect that makes it easier for me to stop. If I think "oh, I'll finish this one day," then it's easy to think "so I might as well finish it now." Once I realise "I don't want to read this any more, and I never will," everything becomes so much simpler.)
It's a shame, because it's weird enough and odd enough (and apparently a bit of a one-off from the author) so it could theoretically easily fit alongside such gems as Gentlemen Prefer Blondes or The Young Visiters that I truly do love. But it was not to be.
(Note: I'm a writer, so I suffer when I offer fewer than five stars. But these aren't ratings of quality, they're a subjective account of how much I liked the book: 5* = an unalloyed pleasure from start to finish, 4* = enjoyed it, 3* = readable but not thrilling, 2* = disappointing, and 1* = hated it.)
I'm fairly sure this was intended to be funny, and I know time has passed, but I still think Jane Austen's hilarious so time shouldn't be an issue. I'm almost personally offended that the idea of not one, not two, but countless students committing suicide would be fodder for humour rather than a tragedy. I do like some of the prose ("Death cancels all engagements" struck me, as it has struck so many others), but I'm not laughing, I'm not even smiling, I'm 40% through the book and very little has happened, and certainly not enough to convince me there's any point in continuing.
(My patience for so-so books has worn entirely away during the years, and I no longer feel any remorse at stopping and setting them aside ... forever! In fact, it's the forever aspect that makes it easier for me to stop. If I think "oh, I'll finish this one day," then it's easy to think "so I might as well finish it now." Once I realise "I don't want to read this any more, and I never will," everything becomes so much simpler.)
It's a shame, because it's weird enough and odd enough (and apparently a bit of a one-off from the author) so it could theoretically easily fit alongside such gems as Gentlemen Prefer Blondes or The Young Visiters that I truly do love. But it was not to be.
(Note: I'm a writer, so I suffer when I offer fewer than five stars. But these aren't ratings of quality, they're a subjective account of how much I liked the book: 5* = an unalloyed pleasure from start to finish, 4* = enjoyed it, 3* = readable but not thrilling, 2* = disappointing, and 1* = hated it.)