Joseph Conrad - Heart of Darkness

"The horror! The horror!" is one of those phrases that will haunt one, long after the last page of the book is turned. This book, or novella, is a ninety page almost-monologue, where the narrator is Marlow, who recounts his adventures searching for Mr. Kurtz in the darkness of Africa. Honestly, despite some incredible lines, I couldn't wait for the book to end. Yes, I know it's a classic, describing the horrors of the ivory trade in the Congo, and is one of those must-reads. However, the emphasis on the allegory of darkness being the heart of the African jungle, or the darkness that pervades the hearts of the European imperialists upon entering here, resulted in me struggling through. For the most part, I like layered narratives, overflowing with metaphors (or any literary device, really), but, to me, this almost came across as forced. Mr. Kurtz, who Marlow only meets in the last third of the book, dominates the narrative. By all accounts, prior to his arrival in the Congo, Mr. Kurtz was a remarkable man. However, as heard through the grapevine, his adventures in the jungles show him as anything but. Thieving, looting, killing, and other barbaric acts seem to define his time in the Congo, while the primary mission that the Company had sent him on was to civilise this uncivilised world, while sending back ivory. Was his fall from grace a result of his environment, or was it simply his innate self being revealed at an opportune moment?

“But his soul was mad. Being alone in the wilderness, it had looked within itself and, by heavens I tell you, it had gone mad.”

Yet, as Mr. Kurtz lay dying, he acknowledged the futility of his endeavours.

Anything approaching the change that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope never to see again. Oh, I wasn't touched. I was fascinated. It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the expression of sombre pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror--of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision--he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath: The horror! The horror!

Marlow's observations on his milieu were fascinating, and disheartening. It was incredibly bleak, and while one can take solace in the fact that the observations were based on Conrad's own stay in the Congo which was over a century ago (1890), it still leaves one feeling fairly unsettled.

A slight clinking behind me made me turn my head. Six black men advanced in a file, toiling up the path. They walked erect and slow, balancing small baskets full of earth on their heads, and the clink kept time with their footsteps. Black rags were wound round their loins, and the short ends behind waggled to and fro like tails. I could see every rib, the joints of their limbs were like knots in a rope; each had an iron collar on his neck, and all were connected together with a chain whose bights swung between them, rhythmically clinking.

This is probably going to be my shortest review yet, for I don't really have much else to say. I can see why it's a classic, but... I really didn't enjoy it!

George Orwell - Down and Out in Paris & London

Let's defy convention for  a second, and instead of quoting the opening lines of this fantastic classic, below are the closing lines:

I can point to one or two things I have definitely learned by being hard up. I shall never again think that all tramps are drunken scoundrels, nor expect a beggar to be grateful when I give him a penny, nor be surprised if men out of work lack energy, nor subscribe to the Salvation Army, nor pawn my clothes, nor refuse a handbill, nor enjoy a meal at a smart restaurant. This is a beginning.

It's the last sentence in this vibrant yet bleak book that makes one want to go back and re-read it straight away. This is my second read of the book, and I was as mesmerised with Orwell's tales residing in the slums of Paris and London now, as I was then, some ten years ago.

It is difficult for me to pen down my thoughts on this book. Maybe start with the cover of my edition - it's incredibly simple, yet eye-catching. If I were to judge this book by its cover, I would say it's unpretentious, unapologetic, and is quite "black and white" (literally speaking). The contents are true to the cover - at least of the edition I am lucky enough to have on my shelf.

Paris, the most romantic city in the world, nicknamed the city of lights, unsurprisingly has a dark underbelly. Romanticism is abandoned as Orwell chronicles his time in Paris in the 1920s, spent completely broke in fairly squalid quarters. To get by, for some bread, wine and tobacco, Orwell worked some fairly grim jobs, which introduced him to a multitude of fascinating characters. The restaurant scene was buzzing in the city, and there were jobs available, but nothing to really write home about. Plenty to write a novel about though, littered with introspective and retrospective thoughts.

A plongeur is a slave, and a wasted slave, doing stupid and largely unnecessary work. He is kept at work, ultimately, because of a vague feeling that he would be dangerous if he had leisure. And educated people, who should be on his side, acquiesce in the process, because they know nothing about him and consequently are afraid of him.

Scammers, foreigners, war heroes, and eccentric neighbours all made multiple appearances as Orwell traipsed through Paris, fatigued and sleep-deprived, constantly being conned out of money, with most of his earthly possessions pawned.

It is a feeling of relief, almost of pleasure, at knowing yourself at last genuinely down and out. You have talked so often of going to the dogs - and well, here are the dogs, and you have reached them, and you can stand it. It takes off a lot of anxiety.

When he finally hits rock bottom, he sends a note to a friend in London, trying to see if life in London would improve. The friend suggested a job which seemed as an improvement, but Lady Luck was not smiling down on Orwell at the time, and by the time he got to London, the job was no longer available. History was about to repeat itself, as Orwell tried to navigate a very expensive city with no money, and few friends.

It (London) was the land of the tea urn and the Labour Exchange, as Paris is the land of the bistro and the sweatshop.

He slept in skipes, cheap skanky lodging houses, and Salvation Army shelters. For some of these places, you had to hand over all your money before you were allowed to enter; at others, you handed over all your tobacco. Unlike Paris, one couldn't sit on a bench in London lest the police arrested the offender for loafing around. Amidst other things, Orwell joined a bunch of ungrateful tramps in prayer for a cup of tea and a bun, he conversed at length with an amateur artist, and walked through the city waiting for shelters to open. One of the more thought-provoking sentences in the book was, in fact, mentioned by the amateur artist:

The stars are a free show; it don’t cost anything to use your eyes.

It is an amazing thought - simple yet evocative. Orwell even contemplates on the nature of jobs, and why the world sneers at beggars.

Beggars do not work, it is said; but then, what is work? A navvy works by swinging a pick. An accountant works by adding up figures. A beggar works by standing out of doors in all weathers and getting varicose veins, bronchitis etc. It is a trade like any other; quite useless, of course — but, then, many reputable trades are quite useless.

It is hard to dismiss poverty and beggars considering the amount they pay in suffering. Orwell, throughout the book, remains mostly conscientious and honest, as do a lot of the people he interacts with. He does not apologise for his situation, nor does he make any excuses for it. Orwell's claim to fame wasn't posthumous like Van Gogh's. Yet, when one considers how "down and out" Orwell was, and where he got to, and some of the books he churned out, one cannot help but be blown away. I say "one" in an abstract third-person kind-of way, but the previous sentence is meant to reflect what I think. I am absolutely blown away, for the second time, with this fantastic work of non-fiction.

J.D. Salinger - Catcher In The Rye

As some of you might already know, The Catcher In The Rye is one of my favourite books of all times. I've read it, and re-read it, and then read it again. At the age of fourteen, the first time I read it, I fell in love with Holden Caulfield. A decade later, I still love Holden Caulfield, and all his quirks, but I sympathise with him, and my heart goes out to him. At one point, I was reading this book every year - sometimes, even more often. When I started working, my ancient edition found a permanent spot on my desk, and it was just there for me to flip through, on days when things didn't make sense. Eventually, the book found its way back to my bookshelf, and I picked it out the other day, to find some solidarity, and to fall in love with the book and the author all over again.

What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.

That's the kind of author Mr. Salinger is to me - I wish he was a terrific friend of mine, for, despite the hypocrisy and despite the narcissism, I can just relate to his protagonist... and, despite popular opinion, that fans of the book are likely to be homicidal maniacs (John Lennon's assassin and Reagan's sniper were both obsessed with the book), well... I've never really felt the need to load up a shot gun, and go around shooting people who annoy me.

The thing about Holden Caulfield is, he's just trying to find his place in the world, where he's surrounded by phonies and pretentious folks. He's been expelled from school, for failing everything but English, and he doesn't really regret his expulsion. Instead, he leaves his school before his last date, and heads to New York, to spend a couple of days on his own, before he goes home to face the music, i.e. his parents. He rambles about life at the school, and then, the book continues with his adventures in New York, as he meets old friends and girlfriends, and reflects and introspects on his life.

He's surrounded by people who talk for the sake of talking, and who have the whole holier-than-thou attitude, which infuriates the living daylights out of him. God knows, I can relate.

He started telling us how he was never ashamed, when he was in some kind of trouble or something, to get right down on his knees and pray to God. He told us we should always pray to God - talk to Him and all - whenever we were. He told us we ought to think of Jesus as our buddy and all. He said he talked to Jesus all the time. Even when he was driving in his car. That killed me. I can just see the big phony bastard shifting into first gear and asking Jesus to send him a few more stiffs.

While reading the book this time 'round, Caulfield came across as someone struggling to deal with the real world, and he seemed to be quite bipolar - with his emotions wildly swinging from ecstasy to despondence in seconds.

Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad.

I felt like jumping out the window. I probably would've, too, if I'd been sure somebody'd cover me up as soon as I landed. I didn't want a bunch of stupid rubbernecks looking at me when I was all gory.

There's an element of hypocrisy, as he rambles on and digresses excessively, but there's so much innocence and idealism and impulsiveness, that he still comes across as someone you'd want to know in real life. He seems to have no regard social protocol, and finds it tiresome, to the extent that he's compelled to make things up, as and when he feels like... some of which is quite politically incorrect.

Anyway, I'm sort of glad they've got the atomic bomb invented. If there's ever another war, I'm going to sit right the hell on top of it. I'll volunteer for it, I swear to God I will.

I'm always saying "Glad to've met you" to somebody I'm not at all glad I met. If you want to stay alive, you have to say that stuff, though.

I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It's awful. If I'm on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I'm going, I'm liable to say I'm going to the opera. It's terrible.

But what really gets me - like, really gets me - about this book is his relationship with his sister, Phoebe; and of course, his sentiments about Allie, his dead brother. When he's asked by his roommate to write a descriptive essay for him on any subject, he chooses to write about Allie's baseball mitt, which has poems scribbled all over.

So what I did, I wrote about my brother Allie's baseball mitt. It was a very descriptive subject. It really was. My brother Allie had this left-handed fielder's mitt. He was left-handed. The thing that was descriptive about it, though, was that he had poems written all over the fingers and the pocket and everywhere. In green ink. He wrote them on it so that he'd have something to read when he was in the field and nobody was up at bat. He's dead now. He got leukemia and died when we were up in Maine, on July 18, 1946. You'd have liked him. He was two years younger than I was, but he was about fifty times as intelligent. He was terrifically intelligent. His teachers were always writing letters to my mother, telling her what a pleasure it was having a boy like Allie in their class. And they weren't just shooting the crap. They really meant it. But it wasn't just that he was the most intelligent member in the family. He was also the nicest, in lots of ways. He never got mad at anybody. […] God, he was a nice kid, though. He used to laugh so hard at something he thought of at the dinner table that he just about fell off his chair.

How can something like that not choke you up? Or make you melt? Or not make you love the protagonist unconditionally? It's so simple, yet so profound. So plain, yet so beautiful. And then - how can you blame Caulfield for treating the world with such utter disdain, when the world has really not been good to him, and taken his younger brother away from him? I think it's easy to say, "get over it" or feel like slapping him to knock him into his senses, but when one feels like the world is unjust, they need time to grieve and come to terms with things at their own pace. Everyone handles things differently. Everyone's way of rationalising things vary.

And when eventually, the title of the book is explained, it's just... perfect.

"You know that song 'If a body catch a body comin' through the rye'? I'd like — "

"It's 'If a body meet a body coming through the rye'!" old Phoebe said. "It's a poem. By Robert Burns."

"I know it's a poem by Robert Burns."

She was right, though. It is "If a body meet a body coming through the rye." I didn't know it then, though.

"I thought it was 'If a body catch a body,'" I said. "Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around — nobody big, I mean — except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff — I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy.

There's something metaphoric about the above quote; it's not literal. It's an element of having the urge to save people before they go down the slippery slope - much like Holden's done, but there's been no one to catch him, or save him. And the vulnerability and utopian fantasy that comes to light here is just gut-wrenching really.

I can read this book over and over again, and it's one of those books I always turn to when things aren't looking up, or I'm ruing the state of affairs around me. And it always makes me feel better. And it always restores my faith in people, ironically enough. I don't think I can read this book too many times, for with each read, it just gets better and better.

Mikhail Bulgakov - The Master and Margarita

It's taken me a little over a month to finish this book, and I must say, it's probably one of my greatest reading accomplishments 'til date. I found the first eighty-four pages tremendously trying, the next one-hundred-and-fifty odd pages amazing, and I was actually totally hooked to the 'Book 2' of this intimidating classic. At the very outset, I am compelled to admit I don't think I understood the whole book. Large portions of it had me baffled, and I questioned my resolve to continue reading it more than once. At the end of the day, though, I am glad that I read it, for a multitude of reasons which I'll explain further down. In fact, the book is already begging for a re-read, just because I think I, as the reader, will benefit greatly from the re-read.

Set in the 1930s Moscow, where Stalin was the head of state, the basic premise of this book is that the devil (Satan) strolls into Moscow with his entourage to wreak havoc. In case you're wondering, Stalin and Satan aren't interchangeable here, despite this book being a political satire.

In the opening chapter, two members of MASSOLIT (a literary organisation in Moscow) are debating on the existence of god by the Patriarch's Ponds. A foreigner introduces himself to them, apologises for the intrusion but justifies it by saying that the subject of your learned conversation is so interesting that...

The foreigner who goes by the name of Woland is the devil, and he predicts the impending unexpected death of Berlioz, one of the writers. His theory was that Jesus did exist, a theory that the two writers refuted. Berlioz's tragic death is only the first of a series of unexpected events that hit Moscow. There's a seance where money rains down, and the women of the city end up walking the streets in nothing but their undergarments, people get teleported to Yalta, the phone lines break, and devil knows, something bizarre is going on...

So, where do "the Master" and "Margarita" fit in? It's a good question, and it takes a while for that to be addressed, as the first part of this book essentially deals with the chaos and confusion created by Woland and his gang, which includes the unforgettable talking cat in the bow-tie, Behemoth. The first book also goes back in time, and has a semi-fictional account of Pontius Pilate, and the role he played in Jesus' persecution followed by the crucifixion itself.

It's Book Two that revolves around the titular characters. Margarita is the grieving wife of an unsuccessful author, "the master," who has disappeared into the oblivion and she has no idea as to where he is; is he dead or alive. In reality, he's gone over the edge, and is in a psychiatric institution. Now, Satan needs a woman called Margarita to host a midnight ball, where the catch is, the woman has to be native to the city. There are a hundred-and-twenty-one potential hostesses but the master's Margarita is the chosen one. She builds up a rapport with the devil himself, becomes a witch, in return for something...

It's the entire exchange between the devil and Margarita that had me wondering about the first half of the book, where the devil was shown to be an entity toying with the lives of people, without reason. The second half of the book did, in a manner of speaking, highlight the kind of people the devil was victimising in the first half. It was the greedy and the selfish, the people who were successful due to their vices, not their virtues, the people who we'd call weasels, the bureaucrats and the opportunists. People, who in my humble opinion, deserve to be reprimanded, deserve to be punished. Even today, the weasels seem to be the ones who are successful and go far in their lives, whereas the hardworking ones seem to be stuck in a rut, and I think that's unfair... excuse the slight aside, but when realisation hit me towards the end of the book, I was sympathising with the devil himself!

And yes, the lyrics of the Stones' Sympathy for the Devil did come back to me at that point. I love the Stones, I love Mick Jagger and Keith Richards and Brian Jones and... Have you ever heard the lyrics? I did look up the song on Wikipedia once I'd finished this book, and it didn't really surprise me that part of it had been inspired by this work of fiction!

Please allow me to introduce myself I'm a man of wealth and taste I've been around for a long, long year Stole many a man's soul and faith

And I was 'round when Jesus Christ Had his moment of doubt and pain Made damn sure that Pilate Washed his hands and sealed his fate

Pleased to meet you Hope you guess my name But what's puzzling you Is the nature of my game

So, yes, this is a satirical confusing bizarre story, where too many characters are introduced, and too many of them have too short a role to play. I found myself questioning the introduction of some of these characters, considering their short life in the novel, and couldn't really come up with an answer. It's humorous in bits, and thought-provoking in chunks. The characters are mesmerising and some of the scenes incredible.

And an unheard-of thing occurred. The  fur bristled on the cat's back, and he gave a rending miaow. Then he compressed himself into a ball and shot like a panther straight at Bengalsky's chest, and from there on to his head. Growling, the cat sank his plump paws into the skimpy chevelure  of the master  of ceremonies and  in two  twists tore the head from  the thick neck with a savage howl.

The banter is hilarious, and it does provide some relief from the otherwise confusing bewildering narrative.

'Well, what's all this now?' exclaimed Woland. `Why have you gilded your whiskers? And what the devil do you need the bow-tie for, when you're not even wearing trousers?'

'A cat is not supposed to wear trousers, Messire,' the cat replied with great dignity. 'You're not going to tell me to wear boots, too, are you? Puss-in-Boots exists only in fairy tales, Messire. But have you ever seen anyone at a ball without a bow-tie? I do not intend to put myself in a ridiculous situation and risk being chucked out! Everyone adorns himself with what he can. You may consider what I've said as referring to the opera glasses as well, Messire!'

'But the whiskers? ...'

'I don't understand,' the cat retorted drily. 'Why could Azazello and Koroviev put white powder on themselves as they were shaving today, and how is that better than gold? I powdered my whiskers, that's all! If I'd shaved myself, it would be a different matter! A shaved cat - now, that is indeed an outrage, I'm prepared to admit it a thousand times over. But generally,' here the cat's voice quavered touchily, 'I see I am being made the object of a certain captiousness, and I see that a serious problem stands before me - am I to attend the ball? What have you to say about that, Messire?'

Have you read this book? Or attempted to read it? What did you think? Worth a read? I'd recommend it...

What's the most confusing bizarre book that you've read? I think this is mine, hands down, beating Murakami's Kafka on the Shore...

Margaret Atwood - The Handmaid's Tale {Weekly Geeks Q&A}

I'm still playing catch-up on 13th June's Weekly Geeks. I know, I know, it's been about a month, and that's ample time to catch up! However, after this, I'll just have two more to do: Disgrace, and His Dark Materials. Am planning to re-read the latter this month, so might end up doing that one after!

Anyway, on with it...

From gautami tripathy:

The Handmaid’s Tale is one of the best books I have read. What did you think of it? Do you think it is possible? Can you see a future like that? Did it scare you?

I thought it was fantastic. It's well-written, a page-turner, and depicts a heavily dystopian futuristic society, which scared the living daylights out of me!

However, when you ask if I find it possible or not, I have to say, I don't. Maybe, it's only me, but I find the dystopias presented in 1984, Brave New World, and Fahrenheit 451 much more realistic than this. I know people have found this book scarily possible, but, in my opinion, the human race has progressed way too much, to let women be reduced to nothing but maids and handmaids ("Handmaids" are women who have only one purpose: conceive a child for the family that looks after her). With each generation, women are becoming more powerful, and more career-oriented, at the expense of not having families, and settling down. The world is becoming smaller, and the cries of democracy are louder than ever. I just can't see the government of the United States being overthrown, and replaced by this totalitarian nightmare. That said, I can see this happening in some extremist countries, where women are not allowed to drive, vote, or leave their house without a man.

I am not American, but, with today being 4th of July, one has to ask the question: can the 'leaders of the free world' ever be the polar opposite?

The book scares me. I think Offred, the protagonist, said something along the lines of many handmaids tend to commit suicide, instead of living life as they do - under constant pressure and no guarantees. To be honest, if I was ever unlucky to exist in a society like that, I'd probably just kill myself. Luckily, I don't think something this horrible will happen in my lifetime. For that, I'm grateful.

From Maree:

I loved The Handmaid’s Tale – did you find it scarily possible?

I didn't. I just can't see a society like that coming into existence. Maybe I'm in denial. Maybe I'm an optimist. But... I just don't see it!

From Kristen:

I have a slight fear of reading Margaret Atwood again – she’s so revered in Canada that it’s intimidating. Talk me into why I should read the Handmaid’s Tale :o)

Jeez, I'm not very convincing. :( I'll try though...

Atwood is probably revered in Canada for a reason: she's that good! That should be reason enough to read the book. What makes this book really special, is, realizing how lucky we are, as things stand. Feminism is rampant right now, and women are allowed to make their own decisions, with respect to what to wear, and when to settle down and have kids. Their choice isn't restricted to being a 'martha' (a maid), or a handmaid. Can you imagine having to flip a coin between those two options, and nothing else?

It's well-written, it's a page-turner, and Atwood's made the story as real as possible: from Offred being your regular American woman, to feeling semi-conscious seeing Japanese tourists in shorts (revealing their legs). Can people be conditioned that easily? Or, in a society where there are no choices, people just accept things the way they are to make their life that much easier? It raises some provocative questions, which you probably don't want to think about, and which will haunt you for a long long time.

Did I do a good job of talking you into it?

From Rebecca:

The Handmaid’s Tale haunted me for weeks after I read it. I loved it and don’t think I’ll ever forget it, but I know that not everyone feels that way. What was your reaction to it? Did you find it believable and frightening or too futuristic and extreme? How would you describe it in 1 or 2 sentences to someone who’s never heard of it before?

As already mentioned above, it scared me. A lot. More than I want to admit. I can't imagine ever living in a society like that, and frankly speaking, death might be more viable. But... I also thought it was out and out fiction, and too extremist to be 'real'.

Two sentence summary:

The United States has been replaced by the Republic of Gilead, a futuristic society, where women are reduced to being 'reproductive' machines for unknown men, and then give up the child to the wife of these men. Everyone knows what their purpose is... and ironically enough, most other women envy the 'handmaids' for the alternative is being a maid, and not being treated with dignity or respect.

From Jodie:

Why do you think so many dystopian novels set in the future find women subjugated once again? What did you think of the rich women’s complicity in the other women’s fate in The Handmaid’s Tale?

I don't know. Will we do the full 360, and go back to the beginning, where women are subjugated for their role in the 'Original Sin' again? Is there another episode that will replace the 'Original Sin'? Or, will some radical extremist group take over the world, and ensure that some of their customs regarding women will take precedence over what the Western world knows today.

Well, that's a tough one. I think it depends on the rich woman - they are dependent on the handmaid for one thing, and one thing only. While some of the rich women are likely to be grateful to their handmaid for providing them with a child - something they can now 'buy', they are not obliged to be so. Simultaneously, some women will hold the handmaids in contempt, for it cannot be easy for them to see their husband indulging in sexual activities with another woman, out of 'protocol'. Probably this coupled with their own sense of incompletion leads to the untoward fate of handmaids. Of course, if and when the handmaids are having an actual relationship with the husband, without the wife's knowledge, and she finds out, the fate is much worse....

J.D. Salinger - Catcher In The Rye {Weekly Geeks Q&A}

So, I'm taking ages with the Weekly Geeks' Catching Up, and for that I apologize. The third book I'm going to tackle is also one of my favorites, and I've been reading it every year for god alone knows how long. I also have three copies of this book - one which stays at work, in case I need a break; one that sits on my bookshelf, always ready to be read; and one that's just there in case I lend one of the other copies out.  As you can imagine, I'm quite excited to do this one! Thought of saving the best for last, but... Nah!

On with the questions...

From Jacqueline C:

I love Catcher In the Rye but some people think that it’s very overrated. How do you feel about it?

By my above introduction, I think it's safe to assume I don't think it's overrated at all. Holden Caulfield might be one of the most intriguing characters in literature, and to this date, I think he would be the one fictional character I'd love to have a conversation with. I'm not sure why people find it overrated, to be honest. Is it because they find Caulfield's character annoying? Or, is it because they think the story itself isn't special? Any idea?

From Louise:

Do you think Catcher in the Rye should STILL be on a bannned books list, even though it was probably provocative when it first came it, surely, it shouldn’t be in 2009?

Not really, no. I can see why it was banned, back in the day, with the explicit language, the occasional violence, and sexual content, and of course, the way Caulfield challenges everything society stands for. However, with the influences of television and the internet now days, I think the book is more relevant than ever, because it's basic theme isn't negative. Conversely, it explores the loss of innocence, and how Caulfield wants to save children from the 'phoniness' of adulthood, which is likely to be the end of their innocence. With the internet and TV now-a-days, it's depressing to see how quickly children are growing up, and how, their childhood isn't really one of innocence. I see nine year olds swearing, I see teenagers speaking disrespectfully to their parents, and I see everyone conforming to the same thing... and the one child that tries not to, automatically becomes the butt of all jokes. And I sympathize with that kid. If someone is going to read this book, they will not be more corrupted, or they will not be worse of. Not according to me, anyway.

From Eva:

How does Catcher in the Rye compare to Salinger’s short stories? I love those, but I’m worried that at 23 I’m too old for Catcher…would I just be rolling my eyes?

In my opinion, for what that's worth, Catcher is timeless. I've not read Salinger's short stories, so I can't really compare the two, but... I'm 24, and I absolutely love the book. The thing is, you'll either love the protagonist or hate him. He's a hypocritical phony teenager, battling the world around him, thinking he's surrounded by conformists. To be fair, he does make some very valid points about society. However, towards the end of the book, there's this one scene where he's talking to his sister, and that just did it for me. It was that one scene that makes the book as amazing as it is, and the one scene that shows you where poor Caulfield is coming from. I'd recommend at least giving it a shot - I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Alice Walker - The Color Purple {Weekly Geeks Q&A}

Last week's Weekly Geeks encouraged us to ask the blog readers to ask questions about books we're reading/books we've read, and not yet completed. I'm running extremely late, but, I am finally getting down to doing this. I was asked the below questions:
From Becky:

The Color Purple. Did you enjoy it? Would you recommend it? Is it easy to read or more intimidating? Have you seen the movie? If you have, which did you prefer the book or the movie? Did you have a favorite character? How about a favorite quote? Will you be seeking out any other Alice Walker books?

Yes, I did enjoy the book, and I think it's definitely worth a read. It provides the reader with an insight into life in the South in those times: oppressed women, abusive men, judgmental society. The story is told through the eyes of Celie, a girl of 14 (when the book begins), who has suffered a fair bit; being raped by the man she calls 'father', being forced to marry a man significantly older than herself who is in love with a famous blues singer (Shug Avery), and being separated from her sister, Nettie. It's the exploration of these subjects that make the book a little difficult to read, as you can't help but feel your heart go out to poor Celie, who writes her story to 'God', as she has been told never to tell about her abuse to another person.

My favorite character, trite as it may sound, was Shug: a blues singer, who's condemned by society, for her lavish ways; a strumpet in short skirts, smoking cigarettes, drinking gin. Singing for money, and taking other women mens. Talk about slut, hussy, heifer, streetcleaner. However, Shug doesn't let all this bog her down, but instead, aspires to enjoy life, unlike most of the other women of the time. She's also compassionate, friendly, and becomes a savior of sorts to Celie.

As for a favorite quote... while there are a couple which highlight Shug's attitude, I think this one will give you an insight into Celie's head, as she writes her story:

Dear God,

He act like he can't stand me no more. Say I'm evil an always up to no good. He took my other little baby, a boy this time. But I don't think he kilt it. I think he sold it to a man an his wife over Monticello. I got breasts full of milk running down myself. He say Why don't you look decent? Put on something. But what I'm sposed to put on? I don't have nothing.

I keep hoping he fine somebody to marry. I see him looking at my little sister. She scared. But I say I'll take care of you. With God help.

Unfortunately, I haven't seen the movie - in fact, I didn't even know there was a movie, so...

Regarding seeking out more of Alice Walker - yes, I probably will. Her other books seem to have good reviews as well, but I guess I just haven't gotten around to doing so yet!

From Louise:

I tried reading The Color Purple a few months ago, but could not find head nor tail in it. I only read a couple of pages. Should I have kept it and continued (as in “it will all become clear a few more pages into the book)?

I think so. It's one of those books, where the narrative just drifts into the story, and then, you easily get yourself lost into it, sympathizing with Celie, and hoping she finds happiness eventually.

From Dreamybee:

I have same questions about The Color Purple as some of the other commenters. I’ve only ever seen the movie but I thought it was great, and it’s a movie that stands up over time. It was just as good a couple years ago as it was when it came out in 1985. Have you seen the movie and how does it compare to the book? If not, does the book stand up over time?

I haven't seen the movie, so, I can't really comment on the movie-book comparison. The book does stand up over time. It's a 'historical' book, in a manner of speaking - talking about a time, place and society which has existed in the 'past'. As one of the comments on the back says:

The Color Purple is a work to stand beside literature for any time and any place. It needs no category other than the fact that it's superb. {Rita Mae Brown}

From Eva:

Did you find The Color Purple difficult to read? I’m not super-good with books written in dialect, so I’m a little afraid of it. But I enjoyed Their Eyes Were Watching God earlier this year; if you’ve read that one, how do they compare?

Haven't read Their Eyes Were Watching God, so can't really comment. However, I do think the 'dialect' is what made this book more 'real' than anything else. It can get occasionally awkward to read, and you may have to re-read a line or two over again, to ensure you haven't misinterpreted anything. By your comment, you recommend Their Eyes Were Watching, so I'll definitely try and check it out.

From Jodie:

Which characters did you like the most in The Colour Purple? How did you feel about Mr by the end of the book?

I've answered the first part above, in detail.

As for Mr. -, it's a tough question. I hated him for most of the book, simply because he came across as a selfish chauvinistic sadistic abusive man, and I couldn't possibly have a lower opinion of people like that! I guess, putting it in context, many men at that time (and place) were similar, although I wouldn't say that makes it alright. However, I think, by the end of the book, he did try and redeem himself, which helps some... just not enough. Again, I find it very difficult to forgive such things, so... it might just be me!

So, my questions:

Is there any character you held in utmost contempt? and, What do you think the most defining quality of Shug was? And, the stereotype: did you enjoy the book?

George Orwell - Animal Farm

An anthropomorphic anti-Soviet social satire, this book stirred up a fair bit of controversy, and initially, a multitude of publishers refused to print it, fearing the repercussions of the act. The book focuses on the animals of Manor Farm, and how they go the full circle, from being owned by men and working for them, to being an animal democracy, and then the balance of power shifting again, to one of the species...

In the opening chapter, the Old Baron summons all the animals of Manor Farm one evening, after the farmer - Mr. Jones - has retired for the night. He then tells the animals of a dream where the animals are independent, and working for themselves, and not man. He then encourages them to plan a revolution to overthrow man, and take their fate in their own hands.

And that is exactly what these animals do, by running Mr. Jones out of the farm, and creating a democracy, with seven commandments:

1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy
2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend
3. No animal shall ever wear clothes
4. No animal shall ever sleep in a bed
5. No animal shall ever drink alcohol
6. No animal shall kill any other animal
7. All animals are equal

This is the new improved farm - the Animal Farm - where the animals join forces and work for themselves. Pigs, deemed the most intellectual of all animals, are mutually considered to be the species who would educate the others, as well as plan out the best course of action for the farm. All in all, the animals were ecstatic that they had achieved this utopian dream, and news of their success spread far and wide.

However, soon enough, the pigs became the 'rulers' of this utopia, and started setting down the rules, often overriding the commandments, or adding an exception clause, without informing the other citizens. Napoleon, the elite ruler (who was meant to represent Stalin), with the help of Squealer (supposedly Molotov) started slowly brainwashing the other animals, and confusing them greatly; so much so, that, eventually a totalitarian regime emerged, but the animals didn't even realize what was happening. The final commandment was altered by the pigs to

All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.

No animal was informed of this change, and none of them realized what was actually going on - be it because of their inherently trusting nature, or because of the pack of lies they were fed by the pigs-in-charge. I don't want to give away the ending of the book, but suffice it to say that the last line pretty much sums up the book in a nutshell.

This book explores the failure of communism, and how, while in theory it's utopian; in practice, it just ends up being a totalitarian dystopia (in the context of the Stalin rule, at least). It shows naivety of people, and how easy it is to muddle their thoughts by stretching the truth, or talking so confidently that they start doubting their own memories. For example, when the pigs moved into the Jones' house, and started sleeping on the beds, one of the animals was sure that there was a commandment that denounced this. When he went to the 'wall' where all the commandments were details, what he read was

No animal shall ever sleep in a bed with sheets.

Of course, the pigs denied using sheets.

What is really scary, though, is that the book is so convincing; that the animals are so quick to believe everything. Even when their food rations are decreased, their working hours increased, and the pigs are getting all the apples, they do not revolt against the pigs, for, they believe that it's better than working for the Jones'. Of course, no one quite recalls what that was like, and whether that was a better life, or worse.

While this book sounds political, it's not, really. As in, one can easily read it as a piece of fiction (a fairy tale, as one of its alternate titles suggest), and contemplate on some of the many points raised without matching up the main characters with their corresponding historical figures. Of course, the matching makes the book more interesting, but... I only ended up looking into who each character was after I finished it; more out of interest in the history of the Soviet Union, as opposed to because the book demanded it.

This book is a classic, and I think a definite must-read. It's practically been on every 'list' of must-reads and best books, and there's a reason why.

An 8 on 10, with my only complaints being that the book is overtly simplistic, and, not the reader is not completely clear as to who each character of the book is. Of course, if it was abundantly clear, the reader would complain that little is left to the imagination....  Also, I can't help but wonder how would things have materialized if the pigs were capitalists, not communists... any ideas?

Anthony Burgess - A Clockwork Orange

O my brothers, this book is real horrorshow. You must have slooshied about it, and in my opinion, it's a must read. Apologies for the nadsat, i.e. teenage Russian slang, but I think this is partly responsible for making this book just as good as it is (and I really can't rate it high enough). Initially, the book is challenging to read. The language is full of slang, that takes some time to get accustomed to. I was confused and felt that I really needed a dictionary (or, the book needed a glossary) to make some sense out of this book. However, within a couple of chapters, the slang started to make sense, and I just couldn't stop reading it, to see how it ends.

The book revolves around Alex, who is fifteen when the book starts. The opening scene seems innocent enough - Alex and his three droogs are hanging out in a milkbar (where the drinks are laced with drugs), one evening. Once they leave the milkbar though, we get introduced to the violent streak in these four teenagers. They decide to beat up a man leaving a library, just for the sake of it; get into a bloody fight with a rival gang; steal a car; enter some random home of a couple - beat the husband up, and gang rape the wife. And if that's not bad enough, they then tolchock the car into the river below. Real nasty stuff, and that point, you can't help but feeling that the four teenagers are despicable and deserve severe punishment.

Later on that evening, we get a glimpse of another side of Alex, the gang privodevat, as he goes home, and in total darkness listens to some classical music. That's when we discover his unequivocal love for Beethoven, and some other classical geniuses. Who knew their crime-minded malchicks appreciate music as much as they do violence?

When the gang decides to overthrow Alex as their leader, and get George, one of the droogs to replace him, Alex challenges George to a fight, which he wins, thereby retaining his title. That night, they decide to get up to some serious mischief, and rob a rich woman. However, things don't quite go according to plan, and Alex's violence costs the woman her life. The three droogs abandon Alex there, letting him take the fall for it while they run away... and Alex is charged with murder.

Good riddance, you say? A boy like that deserves no better? Well, read on...

Alex spends two years in jail, where he shares a small cell with some other inmates. When a new inmate is brought to their cell, and starts throwing his weight around, Alex, with the help of the other inmates, end up killing him (accidentally). As things normally pan out, the other prisoners deny responsibility, and Alex takes the fall. He volunteers for the Ludovico Technique, a procedure that is supposed to change the criminal mind, to that of a peace-loving citizen, in just two weeks. Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it?

This technique is essentially conditional programming/aversion therapy. Alex is forced to watch videos of gruesome violence, and is injected with some nauseating medicine simultaneously. The idea is, every time the subject (in this case, Alex) thinks of violence, he ends up feeling nauseous. However, Alex is never told what the treatment actually entails, and he assumes it's something nice and easy, that gets him out of prison in two weeks - the only reason why he volunteers.

When Alex goes back to life outside prison, he is not prepared for what greets him, and you can't help but feel sorry for the boy, as he tries to figure things out. Stripped off everything, even his greatest love, we see a struggle, and we're forced to ask some serious ethical questions: Are treatments like the Ludovico Technique justified? If someone shows a violent streak, is the government entitled to brainwash them? And what if the primary reason to get people undergo this treatment is that the prisons just don't have enough space to hold all the convicts? Do two wrongs make a right? Does the end justify means? Do the means justify the end?

This dystopian novel is incredibly well-written. I don't think the reader is supposed to relate to Alex. While Alex's description of Beethoven's music might just be one of the most beautiful things I've read in literature, his violent streak and some of the criminal acts he's conducted might be the most horrific. As I flipped the last page of the book, I couldn't help but admire Alex just a tad, and I also regretted that the book was over. Definitely one of the most thought-provoking books I've read in recent times.

Dare I say, a 10 on 10?

F. Scott Fitzgerald - The Great Gatsby

Glitz. Glamour. A love that has survived the War. Extra-marital affairs. Grand parties. Opulence. Alcohol. A yellow Rolls Royce. Chauffeurs. Friendship... and New York in the 1920s (the 'Jazz' age). This pretty much sums up 'The Great Gatsby' - a classic piece of literature from the 20th century.

The story revolves around the rich and glamorous party-goers in New York in the 20th century - in a time when alcohol has been prohibited, when the economy is buzzing (post World War I), and when people are enjoying life to the fullest

The book starts off on a note that grabs the reader's attention, and instinctively makes them want to flip over the page, to figure out what the narrator is 'reserving judgment on':

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. 'Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,' he told me, 'just remember that all the people in the world haven't had the advantages that you've had.'

And then the story kicks off, with the introduction to Jay Gatsby - the narrator's (a 22 year old Nick Carraway) wealthy neighbor. Gatsby is an important part of the circle of the rich and famous socialites in New York. Holding alcohol-heavy parties regularly, which carry on 'til the wee hours of the morning, where people turn up, invited or otherwise, Gatsby seems to be at the heart of the socializing. However, ironically enough, he never seems to be drunk or an active part of these parties - instead, he seems to be a mere spectator. No one seems to know who he is, and when Nick asks, people look at him puzzled.

However, there are rumors about Gatsby - his lineage, where he comes from, and where he has earned his money. People indulge in hyperbolic assumptions and wonderings, which Nick himself is fascinated by. However, as the story progresses, Gatsby tells our narrator about why he purchased his place - it's bang opposite Daisy's house across the river. Daisy, Nick's cousin, used to be Gatsby's lover prior to the war, but when Gatsby left for the War, she married Tom. Tom, also opulent, comes across as obnoxious and arrogant; much unlike Gatsby. He boasts of his mistress, and in fact, insists that Nick meet her.

Gatsby clearly has just one mission: to sweep Daisy off her feet, and make her leave Tom. Tom, in all his arrogance, cannot deal with this, and the book ends tragically, where we come to see that all the wealth in the world doesn't buy friends, and people are quick to judge based on nothing; where people act without thinking of the consequences, and how jealousy and anger combined result in an act of ultimate unfairness. It's this ending that makes the book as heart-achingly sad and depressing.

This beautifully written book vividly brings to life the society of New York in the 1920s. From the fact that women are meant to be beautiful and not much else (I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool -- that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool. -  Daisy on her daughter) to, people indulging in idle gossip about their host. It highlights the jealousy of a jilted lover, and the passion of an old one. It stresses on pride and money, of opulence and fair-weather friends.

The prose itself is almost like poetry, with some philosophical meanderings, and thought-provoking quotes. A powerful book, this book has made an impression me, like very few other books have.

Overall, an 8 on 10, and a must-read. I'm off to find another book by Fitzgerald now, and it's much to my dismay that due to his death at a relatively early age, there aren't that many.