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lovesbun's reviews
32 reviews
A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid
4.0
kincaid's right, from the very first page she's right!
on a more sombre note, her description and depiction of the tourist figure is apt, heartbreakingly so when you consider the necessity for tourism in tourist-based economies. though her focus is on antigua, naturally her discussions of corruption touch on much larger, interconnected systems of corruption and exploitation that upset the foundations, and scar the surface, of post- and neo-colonial regions such as the caribbean.
an incisive, thought provoking essay that easily thrusts you into existential dread if you linger too long on it.
on a more sombre note, her description and depiction of the tourist figure is apt, heartbreakingly so when you consider the necessity for tourism in tourist-based economies. though her focus is on antigua, naturally her discussions of corruption touch on much larger, interconnected systems of corruption and exploitation that upset the foundations, and scar the surface, of post- and neo-colonial regions such as the caribbean.
an incisive, thought provoking essay that easily thrusts you into existential dread if you linger too long on it.
Overcrowded Barracoon by V. S. Naipaul
1.0
naipaul can write with the best of them, i'll say that first.
next, i have read a select few articles for every lovely little nugget of an idea comes ten to twenty times the amount of acrid ideas that consume, digest, and excrete it. there are numerous self-contradictions, to the point that they toe the line of being commonplace to the human condition and edge into that twilit territory of eternal self-combat. one gets the sense that naipaul is locked in an incredibly fitful dialogue with himself where he tries, and seemingly repeatedly fails, to convince himself of certain perspectives and reconcile himself to others.
the article "power" is particularly full of sneering, and frankly racist, drivel to no end. a lot of sneering and no proffered solutions or preferences that leads the reader into an eddy and abandons them there. here is but one example of the aforementioned:
as much as there is to say about this passage alone, i am not the kind of person who can say it all in a polite manner, so i will just leave it there and point it out for the incredibly acidic and incorrect sentiment that it is. and i say incorrect as it has been disproved by countless happenings. the territories in question have produced innumerable original and dazzling creations that are appreciated in large and little places. so that's something to put in a pipe and smoke.
such scathing remarks aren't reserved for his homeland, of course. if you've read enough naipaul, or at least heard enough about him, then you know he talks smack about every place under the sun (that he has had the fortune—or misfortune, i suppose—of travelling to).
though i hate to leave unfinished something i've begun, i don't think i can force myself to finish this. i will, however, note a very good idea that i encountered (and remember), that sits in the article "east indian":
this was so galactic brain of him, he has never been more right.
next, i have read a select few articles for every lovely little nugget of an idea comes ten to twenty times the amount of acrid ideas that consume, digest, and excrete it. there are numerous self-contradictions, to the point that they toe the line of being commonplace to the human condition and edge into that twilit territory of eternal self-combat. one gets the sense that naipaul is locked in an incredibly fitful dialogue with himself where he tries, and seemingly repeatedly fails, to convince himself of certain perspectives and reconcile himself to others.
the article "power" is particularly full of sneering, and frankly racist, drivel to no end. a lot of sneering and no proffered solutions or preferences that leads the reader into an eddy and abandons them there. here is but one example of the aforementioned:
The small islands of the Caribbean will remain islands, impoverished and unskilled, ringed as now by a cordon sanitaire, their people not needed anywhere. They may get less innocent or less corrupt politicians; they will not get less helpless ones. The island blacks will continue to be dependent on the books, films and goods of others; in this important way they will continue to be the half-made societies of a dependent people, the Third World’s third world. They will forever consume; they will never create. They are without material resources; they will never develop the higher skills. Identity depends in the end on achievement; and achievement here cannot but be small. . . . Nothing was generated locally; dependence became a habit.
as much as there is to say about this passage alone, i am not the kind of person who can say it all in a polite manner, so i will just leave it there and point it out for the incredibly acidic and incorrect sentiment that it is. and i say incorrect as it has been disproved by countless happenings. the territories in question have produced innumerable original and dazzling creations that are appreciated in large and little places. so that's something to put in a pipe and smoke.
such scathing remarks aren't reserved for his homeland, of course. if you've read enough naipaul, or at least heard enough about him, then you know he talks smack about every place under the sun (that he has had the fortune—or misfortune, i suppose—of travelling to).
though i hate to leave unfinished something i've begun, i don't think i can force myself to finish this. i will, however, note a very good idea that i encountered (and remember), that sits in the article "east indian":
Immigrants are people on their own. They cannot be judged by the standards of their older culture. Culture is like language, ever developing. There is no right and wrong, no purity from which there is decline. Usage sanctions everything.
this was so galactic brain of him, he has never been more right.
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
3.0
stellar anti-imperialist work. very necessary in archiving the history of the atrocities committed in congo. still, it is, as achibe rightly stated far more poignantly than i can echo, incredibly racist.
it's worth noting, however, that the narrative does ultimately present the white imperial-colonist empire as the ultimate evil: something that cannibalises colonised victims and rots, from the inside, those who carry out the cannibalising—a phenomenon embodied in the character kurtz, and otherwise alluded to. complicit bystanders, too, rot from imperial-colonial voracity, represented at the end of the novel with marlow's loss of self and plummet into despair. as marlow becomes an echo of kurtz, so do those profiting off exploitation lose themselves and become both the echo and echo chamber of such ideas.
the book was a slog though. the writing is good but, of course, nothing really happens until later, after the voyage up the river. it picks up around 60% of the way through, at which point it sort of reads itself. should everyone read it? yes, if only the parts that detail the torture of the congo natives and the rape of the land. everything else depends on the reader. YMMV.
it's worth noting, however, that the narrative does ultimately present the white imperial-colonist empire as the ultimate evil: something that cannibalises colonised victims and rots, from the inside, those who carry out the cannibalising—a phenomenon embodied in the character kurtz, and otherwise alluded to. complicit bystanders, too, rot from imperial-colonial voracity, represented at the end of the novel with marlow's loss of self and plummet into despair. as marlow becomes an echo of kurtz, so do those profiting off exploitation lose themselves and become both the echo and echo chamber of such ideas.
the book was a slog though. the writing is good but, of course, nothing really happens until later, after the voyage up the river. it picks up around 60% of the way through, at which point it sort of reads itself. should everyone read it? yes, if only the parts that detail the torture of the congo natives and the rape of the land. everything else depends on the reader. YMMV.
Toussaint Louverture: The Story of the Only Successful Slave Revolt in History; A Play in Three Acts by C.L.R. James
5.0
hurt my feelings. especially since it's based on the haitian revolution. everyone should read this. of course, it makes more sense when read with The Black Jacobins, but you can get necessary context from documentaries all the same.
i read the 1934 version of the play so i can't speak for the other versions, but i can say james' portrayal of toussaint louverture was quite heart wrenching. not that he is the most noble figure, but to see him rise, becoming to a great leader, then stumble and stagnate as he seemingly clings to power and certainly clings as a loyal subject would to france—
As long as the French do not try to re-establish slavery in San Domingo we shall be loyal to France. We are no longer Africans. We who live here shall never see Africa again, some of us born here have never seen it. Language we have none. French is now our language. Your English language we do not speak. We have no education, the little that some of us know we have learnt from France. France must teach us more. Those few of us who are Christians follow the French religion. Your English religion is different. Our future is with France, General. As long as she does not seek to re-establish slavery.
—only to see his loyalty dashed as he is betrayed by the very colonial power he loyally aligned himself with throughout. this betrayal ends with his imprisonment and lonely, cold death in the alps. there is a lot to be said about this from the play alone, but i'm not very articulate and can only gesticulate and make various sad faces about it.
toussaint's last words as a free man were brilliant, though, as he stuck to his declaration of freedom above all, even france:
phew. a riveting work. 100 out of 10 would read again.
i read the 1934 version of the play so i can't speak for the other versions, but i can say james' portrayal of toussaint louverture was quite heart wrenching. not that he is the most noble figure, but to see him rise, becoming to a great leader, then stumble and stagnate as he seemingly clings to power and certainly clings as a loyal subject would to france—
As long as the French do not try to re-establish slavery in San Domingo we shall be loyal to France. We are no longer Africans. We who live here shall never see Africa again, some of us born here have never seen it. Language we have none. French is now our language. Your English language we do not speak. We have no education, the little that some of us know we have learnt from France. France must teach us more. Those few of us who are Christians follow the French religion. Your English religion is different. Our future is with France, General. As long as she does not seek to re-establish slavery.
—only to see his loyalty dashed as he is betrayed by the very colonial power he loyally aligned himself with throughout. this betrayal ends with his imprisonment and lonely, cold death in the alps. there is a lot to be said about this from the play alone, but i'm not very articulate and can only gesticulate and make various sad faces about it.
toussaint's last words as a free man were brilliant, though, as he stuck to his declaration of freedom above all, even france:
“Do with me what you will. In destroying me you destroy only the trunk. But the tree of Negro liberty will flourish again, for its roots are many and deep.”
phew. a riveting work. 100 out of 10 would read again.
Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
4.0
this was fire. details an entire society and lets glimpse into the intricacies of its culture before the colonial empire endeavoured to tear it up and make it a footnote. that ending though. amazing how one line can reinvent entire eras. very little has made me as angry as swiftly as the commissioner at the ending of this work did. of course, long after, when i calmed down, i was able to put it in perspective—and then into my perspective: after following the narrative, the general at the end stating that okwonkwo would become a footnote in his journal (or record or whatever it was) ultimately minimises the commissioner, and what he stands for, instead of minimising what he intended to minimise, and it is brilliant. a sort of looking through the microscope from the other end sort of effect.
the narrative is littered with misogyny but that's another can of worms to open and i'll open it but i'll just point at it and say: look at all that misogyny! (feel free to go through essays discussing these things far better than i can. i'm just someone on the internet.) just as the work is a fantastic response to Heart of Darkness, it draws various aspects of power and power dynamics into focus. the feminine characters speak for themselves, of course, and they misogyny the same way the narrative undermines the colonial empire.
the narrative is littered with misogyny but that's another can of worms to open and i'll open it but i'll just point at it and say: look at all that misogyny! (feel free to go through essays discussing these things far better than i can. i'm just someone on the internet.) just as the work is a fantastic response to Heart of Darkness, it draws various aspects of power and power dynamics into focus. the feminine characters speak for themselves, of course, and they misogyny the same way the narrative undermines the colonial empire.
The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
4.0
book was sad asf. good though. if not for reading it at 2x speed under a time crunch for class i think the despair would have shredded me up. for once, stress saved me. a lot of santiago's internal musings were far more poignant than he gave himself credit for, but you get that sense that he has defeated himself long ago and it is incredibly disheartening.
nothing else to say, just sad boy vibes. stay strong, sr. santiago.
nothing else to say, just sad boy vibes. stay strong, sr. santiago.
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
4.0
when i tell you i enjoyed this play. the humour really kept the despair and existential dread at bay, though they were both equally powerful. i liked it. i like that nothing happens twice. but damn didi didn't have to go so hard at the end there with the tl;dr: we're spending time we're killing time but we have no time. i'll be back for didi and gogo's wedding under the tree. it'll probably have more leaves by then.
The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams
4.0
can't lie, i read this and i felt like i was in a fugue state (probably because i was slowly getting sick as i read it). i can say that the stage directions were gorgeous and i held on for those. jim was a complete jerk, a total walnut without the nut inside. poor laura. i feel for amanda, too.