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quinntessent1al 's review for:
The Magus
by John Fowles
God, I am so glad to finally be done with this.
There's a lot of this book that I don't really know what to make of. It's a murky, detective-adjacent coming-of-age story about a man who's so disillusioned with life and love and intellectualism that he has to fuck off to Greece and meet an eccentric millionaire to learn the fundamental truths of life. Nothing that happens from thereon out is going to make much sense, so I suggest making your peace with that before you get into this book. It's a book about choosing love over cynicism, of the futility of rebellion, the importance of freedom and the complex evil that absolute freedom really is, the breaking-down of (primarily English) stuffiness and pseudo-intellectualism and simply embracing life's inability to make sense.
This book is far from my favorite book, but it did keep me thinking. The major downside is how ungodly long it is. There were a great many scenes that I felt dragged too long and/or could've been omitted entirely. I've read several reviews commending John Fowles for his "masterful pacing"; I have to wonder if those reviewers and I read the same book.
But hey, overall, I can see why this book is a classic. It appeals to the intellectual armchair-psychologist. It's a "brag book" - a book you can point to and puff out your chest when you say you've read it and enjoyed it. I guess I'm in that club now.
There's a lot of this book that I don't really know what to make of. It's a murky, detective-adjacent coming-of-age story about a man who's so disillusioned with life and love and intellectualism that he has to fuck off to Greece and meet an eccentric millionaire to learn the fundamental truths of life. Nothing that happens from thereon out is going to make much sense, so I suggest making your peace with that before you get into this book. It's a book about choosing love over cynicism, of the futility of rebellion, the importance of freedom and the complex evil that absolute freedom really is, the breaking-down of (primarily English) stuffiness and pseudo-intellectualism and simply embracing life's inability to make sense.
This book is far from my favorite book, but it did keep me thinking. The major downside is how ungodly long it is. There were a great many scenes that I felt dragged too long and/or could've been omitted entirely. I've read several reviews commending John Fowles for his "masterful pacing"; I have to wonder if those reviewers and I read the same book.
But hey, overall, I can see why this book is a classic. It appeals to the intellectual armchair-psychologist. It's a "brag book" - a book you can point to and puff out your chest when you say you've read it and enjoyed it. I guess I'm in that club now.