a-sleepy-reader

[a-sleepy-reader]

I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid: an Analysis and Review

Foreword

Trigger warning for themes and a graphic description of suicide. If you want a review free of spoilers, please scroll to the section labelled ‘Conclusion/Review without spoilers.’

Introduction

I’m sure there have been times when each and every one of us felt regretful of our past. A pain at the thought of past decisions, a pain at experiencing their consequences, and a longing for a reality unrealized. Iain Reid has stretched this universal experience into the 209-page psychological thriller I’m Thinking of Ending Things.

I’m Thinking of Ending Things is known for confusing its readers with an unclear protagonist, extensive philosophical and poetic conversations which, at first glance, seem irrelevant to the plot, and frequent tears in the fabric of reality. In my opinion, it’s only when you learn to play and dance with this torn, crumpled fabric rather than straighten and mend it that you begin to understand this book. So let’s dance.

Plot Synopsis

A woman is on the drive to meet her boyfriend’s parents. Along the snowy countryside drive, the couple speaks of secrets, age, and the loneliness that comes with intellect. Meanwhile, the woman is haunted by pervasive thoughts of a caller telling her there is ‘just one question to answer’ and her constant contemplation of whether she should break up with her boyfriend, Jake(‘I’m thinking of ending things’). 

Once they reach Jake’s parents’ farm, they tour the barn and find dead lambs and an empty pig pen. According to Jake, the lambs died of hypothermia(peacefully, the young woman thought). The pigs, however, acted strange before their death, just lying in the corner of their pen until someone moved them and discovered whole undersides writhing with maggots. The pigs must have had open wounds that flies laid eggs on, and there the pigs lay for who knows how long, eaten alive from the inside. Worst of all, if no one had taken the time to check on them, nobody would have ever known.

The farmhouse appears to be empty when Jake and the woman enter it, though Jake assures her that his parents will come downstairs eventually. In the meantime, the woman observes the farmhouse. There is a basement door with scratches on it and a portrait of Jake that seems older than him. Worse still, it doesn’t look like Jake at all; it looks like the woman. She begins to question reality.

Eventually, the woman meets Jake’s parents and they sit down for supper. They have relatively normal conversations about the difficulties that come with old age, childhood stories and more, but Jake behaves strangely; aloof, withdrawn, disturbed. The woman ignores The Caller ringing her like an alarm. Never stopping. Never resting.

After supper, the woman decides to explore the basement. It is a dark hole in the ground with a water heater, furnace, and storage space. In it, however, the woman finds a painting of that very basement with a distorted individual with long arms and fingers, and a child beside it. Next to this painting are dozens of pages with the same image with only slight variation. Suddenly, the young woman overhears Jake’s parents arguing upstairs. In heated voices, they speak of how Jake quit his job, about how his shyness and extreme introversion is unhealthy. How he’s alone too much. The young woman leaves the basement through a trapdoor that she realizes can only be locked from below. 

Next, the woman enters Jake’s childhood bedroom. He has an odd assortment of possessions: books, journals, photos. Jake was a strange, quiet child, often withdrawing into art to, as his father put it, ‘make sense of the world,’ and though he studied, photographed and drew, Jake never seemed capable of a return to reality.

Finally, the young woman and Jake return to the car to drive back home. Jake reveals the fact that he has a brother, a genius, possibly depressed recluse who followed Jake to the point that he had to cut him out of his life. Jake’s brother became a professor but quit his job because he experienced social anxiety. He began to impede on Jake’s life, ordering him and wearing his clothes. In the end, Jake wondered if he ever really knew him.

The couple decides to pull up at a Dairy Queen for lemonade. A worker says she ‘knows what happens’ and that she’s scared for the young woman. She and Jake take their drinks and return to the car.

Jake drives to a nearby school and leaves the car to dump their empty lemonade cups. When he returns, he kisses the woman, but before matters can become sexual, he yells that someone was watching them from the school. Though the woman presses him not to leave, Jake leaves the woman in the car as he races towards the school to ‘talk’ to the leerer. Eventually, the woman enters the school herself in search of Jake and finds a janitor in the school mopping the floors. The janitor is face-down on the floor with his limbs splayed out, crawling, writhing. The woman is frightened and knows something is wrong, but she decides to search the school for Jake anyway, trying to stay out of the way of the janitor. Eventually, the woman is convinced that the janitor has harmed Jake, and, hearing his footsteps, she runs through the school, lost in a maze of hallways and rooms. She continues her search for Jake.

In the meantime, the woman remembers an eerie childhood encounter with a woman named Ms. Veal. Ms. Veal was her mother’s friend who spoke frequently of her life issues. One day, she came over with oatmeal cookies. When the woman’s mother went to the bathroom, Ms. Veal told the woman that if she was good, she could have a cookie, but if she was bad, she might have to live with Ms. Veal. The woman was unsettled enough at this point, but the tipping point occurred when, that night, her mother got food poisoning that made her cry and vomit all night. The woman was convinced her mother got food poisoning from Ms. Veal’s cookies. Throughout the years, the woman retained one message from this encounter: you never know what goes on inside peoples’ heads.

Back in the school, the woman finds a note saying ‘Just you and me now. There’s only one question.’ Terror strikes the woman; it appears as if the janitor knew about her thinking of ending things and what The Caller has been telling her, but how? 

The woman has a flashback to the night she and Jake met in a pub at trivia night. She smiled at him and Jake smiled back, but he never gave her his number. They never really conversed. She left the pub, Jake was too frightened to approach her, and she disappeared in the frenzied snow.

She enters the custodian’s office and sees the janitor, remarking how she, him, and Jake are one and the same. “I’m thinking of ending things.” She and the janitor grab a coat hanger, break it, and plunge the ends into their neck creating a waterfall of blood and a bay on the floor. He slumps into the closet and himself.

He answered the question.

Analysis

Already, one can tell that analyzing this book will be a handful. There are so many metaphors and allegories that addressing them all in-depth would perhaps make this analysis longer than the book itself. Nonetheless, one can usually try to piece together what these metaphors point to, and with that said, this is my interpretation of Iain Reid’s I’m Thinking of Ending Things.

Throughout the book, characters discussed how shy and withdrawn Jake was, keeping to himself as he studied the world from afar. He considered himself a genius and was well-versed in all sorts of subject material, from chemistry to photography.

Throughout the book, we can see that reality is fragmented and abstract(ex, the woman saw herself in a photograph of Jake and the photograph seemed older than Jake, the woman saying Jake’s parents are long gone despite her having just met them, and her saying she, Jake, and the janitor were one and the same). I believe it is fair to say the plot is at least somewhat detached from reality in one way or another. 

There is a section of the book which details the meeting of Jake and the woman, except they never become lovers. Jake was too scared to give her his number and they never bumped into each other again. If this is true, then how could the woman and Jake have been a couple within the book?

Throughout this novel, there were many instances where the line between who Jake, the woman, and the janitor began to blur. The woman saw herself in a photo of Jake, when Jake’s mother painted a portrait of Jake she instead painted the woman, when the woman described her childhood bedroom, she instead described Jake’s, and at the end of the book, the woman and the janitor commit suicide together, but only the janitor’s body was found. “She. He. We. Me.” Considering all this, I believe that the janitor, the woman, and Jake were one and the same, just different identities within the same consciousness, but let’s elaborate on that later.

Earlier in the book, Jake talked about his estranged brother, a mentally ill genius who quit his job as a professor because of the social nature of his job. Jake also accused his brother of following him, ordering him around, even wearing his clothes. Eventually, Jake thought it best to estrange him. Yet, the woman later states that there was no brother. “He was the troubled one. Jake. Not his brother. There is no brother. There should have been, but there wasn’t.” In the farmhouse, the woman overheard Jake’s parents talking about how ‘he’ quit his job and that his reclusive nature was unhealthy. We can assume they were talking about Jake. I therefore believe that Jake’s brother represented a painful reality of who he was; a reclusive person who quit his job and believed himself to be mentally ill. Meanwhile, the Jake we knew was likely an idealized version of the real Jake; a young, handsome man with a lovely girlfriend and a successful career. This brings me to what may be the most important point.

Everything is a daydream. Jake was a shy person who retreated into his imagination often, and when he quit his job and became a janitor, his happiness took a toll. He became old and invisible, and likely gave up any hope of him finding love and companionship. So, Jake took to daydreaming a better life, one in which he was still young, where his parents were still alive, and where he had the courage to give his number to a woman in a pub and they became lovers. So Jake retreated to this wonderland, but his life of disappointment caught up to him. His mental health plummeted, he lost hope, and all he really felt is regret. Suicide began to haunt Jake with that titular sentance,’I’m thinking of ending things.’ Since the woman was a figment of Jake’s imagination, her mental state was reflective of his, which is why she was always thinking of ‘ending things.’ The Caller calls her about a ‘question to answer,’ and this question is likely ‘what are you waiting for?’ as this sentence is repeated many times in the end. All this can also be interpreted as her contemplating whether she should break up with Jake, which likely shows that even in his imagination, Jake can’t imagine anyone ever loving him.

Jake decides to daydream of a day where he takes his girlfriend to meet his dead parents, but he feels haunted by the memories of his childhood. He reminisces even more, thinking about everything that went wrong in his life, how he seemed doomed from the start, or how everything could have been different.

Once the visit is over, they continue the ride and drive to the school, seeming to have the goal of sex. Jake is startled, however, by a man ‘leering’ on them. This is likely Jake feeling like a ‘pervert’ for acting sexually in his fantasy, imagining this possibility with someone he never even knew. He is overcome with self-hatred and runs into the school to teach himself a lesson. 

When the woman follows Jake and sees the janitor, she is immediately weary of him. He acts eerily, and the book is clearly framed to make you feel uneasy about this man. This is likely an extension of Jake’s low self-esteem and refusal to face the reality of who he is. He sees his true self as a sort of monster the woman has to hide from, a monster that hurt his idealized self. Eventually, though, the woman realized that they are one and the same; she knows she isn’t quite real. She faces the janitor, Jake, herself, and she understands that what seemed to be her thought was not quite hers after all. ‘I’m thinking of ending things.’ So he does. Then, all that is left is scrawled writings of his daydreams with the woman, a reality untold and unrealized, yet one marking the end of a life.

I believe I’m Thinking of Ending Things serves as a cautionary tale of being too scared to make the most of your life, of not taking chances,and  of living your life in the shadows. Jake was forever withdrawn from reality because of his fear of it, yet looking back, all he could see is a lifetime of regret, and a better reality within his imagination.

Review

When I first read this book, all I felt was a stab of anger. I couldn’t understand it, and I tried to justify my feelings of incompetence by being angry at the book instead of myself. Thankfully, my curiosity eventually overpowered my pride, leading me to give this book a second chance. Upon having a better grip on what this book may be trying to say, I can say it has moved me like no other novel I have read thus far.

There is no question in my mind that I’m Thinking of Ending Things is not for everyone and will leave many unsatisfied, especially before they make an opinion of what is going on. However, I believe understanding the book is worth your time and that the complexity of it actually contributes to I’m Thinking of Ending Things. It is unique and well-representative of the chaos of a mind in agony, and will stick with a reader far longer than they may consciously remember it.

Iain Reid has taken the universal experience of being trapped in your own head and has explored this feeling in great depth; how we fabricate realities to deny what is happening, how we feel stuck in the past and contemplating what made things wrong in the present, how we grow to hate ourselves for our mistakes, how we withdraw from the world to avoid making these mistakes. I could understand and empathize with Jake’s agony; his character is pivotal to the story, and through thorough yet subtle explorations of his fears, past, wants, and regrets, I felt grounded in this surreal story by a realistic, interesting, and relatable character.

Reid’s writing is excellent at evoking emotion; I’m Thinking of Ending Things is one of the few novels that have ever made me truly anxious. However, sentences can feel choppy at times with many breaks that I believe break the flow of the prose. For example:

“I haven’t been thinking about it for long. The idea is new. But it feels old at the same time. When did it start?”

-pg 1

I feel like this book would have benefited from longer sentences and fewer periods to help the prose ‘flow’ better. Instead, reading this felt ‘choppy’ at times, and the short sentences were often jarring. Additionally, Jake was written to be a cruciverbalist(his word, not mine), yet this book’s writing is fairly simple with simple language and sentence structure. I wonder if this was done to simplify the book’s complicated plot or make it slightly more accessible, but it feels strange to have such simple writing in such a narratively complicated story, especially one taking place in the mind of a pedantic. In my opinion, I’m Thinking of Ending Things would have benefited from more complex prose and words.

All in all, I give I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid a rating of 90%.

Conclusion

I’m Thinking of Ending Things is a book unlikely to fade from my mind anytime soon. It is a complex story that most will require a second reading to understand, a second reading which is both enjoyable and well-worth understanding the novel. I recommend this book to anyone in need of a puzzle, a scare, an intimate look into the human condition or, in the perspective perhaps most horrifying, a look into themselves.

[a-sleepy-reader]

The Secret History by Donna Tartt: an Analysis and Review

Foreword

Trigger warning for homicide, alcoholism, drug use, and suicide. If you want a review free of spoilers, please scroll to the section labelled ‘Conclusion/Review without spoilers.’

Introduction

The Secret History has made something of a comeback with help of an internet trend called ‘dark academia,’ an aesthetic focusing on slightly Gothic European styles and a passionate pursuit of knowledge, especially in the arts and humanities. The Secret History is something of a bible to the aesthetic, and upon reading it, I can certainly see why: set in New England, The Secret History has running themes of classics, college life, and a setting and character designs very similar to that of dark academia. Plus, a good murder story doesn’t hurt. Beyond the style of it, however, The Secret History still manages to be a thought-provoking, anxiety-inducing, and poetically-written story for aesthetic and mystery lovers alike.

Plot synopsis

Richard Papen feels aimless in life before he is accepted into Hampden college, New England, where his majors fly by with the seconds, from premed to English to Greek, where he attends a peculiar class with an eccentric teacher and equally strange students. Excluding Richard, just five attend this class: mysterious loner Henry, red-headed Charles, beautiful yet guarded Camilla, stylish and nervous Frances, and impulsive and obnoxious ‘Bunny.’ Deny it as he might, Richard aspires to be like them, with their fancy clothing and their rich families and their peculiar tastes, except for a few eccentricities perhaps.

Richard notices an intangible oddness between them; their leaving at odd hours, their whispered words, the way they never fail to get themselves into scraps. As it turns out, they were all attempting rituals, in Henry’s words, “...to lose one’s self, lose it utterly. And in losing it be born to the principle of continuous life, outside the prison of mortality and time.” Once successful, however, a disoriented Henry accidentally kills a man. The group frantically leave the scene and manage to avoid the police. All seems well for them until Bunny, who had been excluded from the ritual, finds out of their deed.

Neurotic and outgoing, the group worries Bunny will spill their secret to someone and only add to the problem of him blackmailing the group for money they soon run short of. After countless drunken confessions, careless jokes, and angry rants, the group is convinced Bunny will tell someone and have them all arrested… unless they stop him. After planning an elaborate murder, Bunny is pushed off a ledge and is hidden in peculiar Spring snow. 

The police scout, and they investigate, but Bunny’s death is nonetheless concluded as a drunken accident. The case is closed and the students in Greek class lower by one.

At this time, Charles develops an addiction to alcohol, Henry, a more apparent recklessness for human life, Camilla, a romantic fondness for Henry, and Francis, panic attacks. Meanwhile, Richard suffocates his guilt with parties and cocaine. The group becomes increasingly conflicted and neurotic with guilt. The friends gradually begin to fall apart. 

Meanwhile, the group’s professor, Julian, finds a letter sent to him by Bunny before he was murdered detailing the group’s schemes. Richard had always looked up to Julian, charismatic, friendly, and knowledgeable as he was, yet all Julian did is move away and stay silent about the affair. No tears, no mourning, just self-preservation. Richard’s perception of Julian is shattered.

Inexorably, the friends’ downfall reaches its climax once a drunk Charles attacks Henry, blaming him for everything that led to Bunny’s murder. The pair fight tumultuously until Henry seizes the gun, puts his finger on the trigger, and shoots himself. Richard theorises the motive to be of Henry’s belief of death being a noble act, one showing more bravery than Julian’s ‘cowardice.’ The rest of the group lives on the outside. On the inside, though, they are more deceased than Henry.

Years later, Richard writes his recollection of the murder, the only story on his mind. Francis survives a suicide attempt, Charles is still addicted to alcohol, and Camilla still does not return Richard’s feelings of love. The story concludes with Richard dreaming of Henry in death, remarking that though he is unhappy, so is Richard. Six friends fell apart due to one ritual, and now, they lay, scattered, with Bunny.

Analysis

The moment Richard meets the Greek students, he aspires to be like them; fancy, rich, pretentious, academic, and pedantic. He is desperate to shed his Californian roots in favor of this new culture but is frequently called out for this fraudulent identity, cheap clothing, and Californian mottoes. The other Greek students are hardly the pictures of this persona either, though; Bunny’s family is actually poor and traditionally American, and all of them hardly withhold sensory impulses in the form of drugs, alcohol, and sex. Even the setting reflects this fake persona; the characters act stereotypically English despite the fact that they live in New England, America. The intellectual and cultural superiority act is a comforting one, though; the students’ professor, Julian, reflects this himself by projecting his ideas of perfect pupils(wealth, good-naturedness and studiousness) onto them and ignoring any qualities which don’t line up with his idealised perception of them. Towards the end, Julian finds out about the group’s schemes and we see just how shallow he really is; he never truly cared for his students, he never really upheld the moral standards he preached, he instead displayed what he would call cowardice by running away from his own students for being murderous yet never reporting them. 

With this in mind, it’s rather ironic to see some followers of the dark academia aesthetic preach The Secret History as the bible of dark academia whilst upholding superiority complexes and intellectual supremacy. By no means are the majority of followers of the aesthetic like this, but The Secret History expertly displays the superiority complex that can seep into those who solely prize themselves for their academic prowess and tastes and ignore the moral descent this narcissism leads them down.

Review

The Secret History is not a short book. With 559 pages in total(including the epilogue), one would expect a plot more complex than the one described above. Truth be told, the majority of The Secret History functions not as plot nor character development but as filler. I believe that at least 200 pages could have been extracted from this book with barely anything sacrificed but its slow, monotonous pacing. Some will delight at hearing the everyday discrepancies in the group, and perhaps I would have if it weren’t for the characters’ shaky personalities and blurry identities. Richard is impulsive and intellectual, Henry is mysterious and brooding, Charles is… well, he’s an alcoholic, and Camilla’s quiet and pretty. The only well-defined characters in this novel are Bunny and Julian, the former being an impulsive and whiny yet gregarious pupil fuelled by his family’s value of money yet disgust at earning it. Only Bunny’s motives are ever truly explored, and the rest of the characters are rather shallow in goals, motivations, pasts, and futures. 

Perhaps this was intentional, to show how the fake identity these students covet has smeared their sense of self, but it makes for a mostly boring read nonetheless.

The only character I felt was well-developed for his role was Julian. He is central to the book’s message, and I truly felt the charisma he exuded with Richard. I felt his shock when Julian was revealed to be a shallow persona all along. He worked well for his purpose and the scenes with Julian were by far my favourite.

For all its flaws, The Secret History has a consistent tone and message ingrained into the book’s very being. It has a gripping plot when it shows it and a great character crucial to the book’s message. I just wish there were less filler and more character development in this story and I believe I would have enjoyed it far more.

I give The Secret History by Donna Tartt a 70%(how can I hate a book that contributed to my excuse to wear turtlenecks year-round?).

Conclusion

The Secret History is a book in need of readers with stamina, ones who can handle approximately 200 pages of filler for a gripping plot and a relevant and unique message. Whether you want to learn more of the Greeks, read about college students, murder mysteries, or one of the greatest contributors to the dark academia aesthetic(as I did), you will likely feel immersed in this world of impersonations and fakes. The Secret History is a dynamic story of identity, friendship and lies, and how all these factors can spiral into evil. Dark academics and Greece-enthusiasts will remember this story in fashion, in behaviour, and in wisdom.

[a-sleepy-reader]

The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo: an Analysis and Review

Foreword

If you want a review free of spoilers, please scroll to the section labelled ‘Conclusion/Review without spoilers.’

Introduction

Few modern novels have been as celebrated in the mainstream media as Paulo Coehlo’s The Alchemist. It has been praised by Publisher’s Weekly, Booklist, and Kenzaburo Oe, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature. 

“The story has the comic charm, dramatic tension, and psychological intensity of a fairy tale, but it’s full of specific wisdom as well… a sweetly exotic tale for young and old alike.”

-Publisher’s Weekly

The Alchemist has the tone of a children’s book and the genre of a fable taking place centuries ago, with wisdoms claimed to be as old as its setting. So, does The Alchemist deliver on these high hopes?

Plot synopsis

Santiago seems disheartened by his life as a Shepherd boy in Spain before he meets a wise and likely supernatural king. The king tells Santiago that he must follow his personal legend(life purpose), which is to travel to the Egyptian pyramids in search of treasure. Santiago has dreamt of the pyramids and treasure before and takes this as affirmation that traveling to such a place is his life purpose. The shepherd boy sells his sheep and takes to selling crystals for money before he sets out on his journey and encounters The Englishman. He is an alchemist looking for the wisest practicer in his field, promptly titled ‘The Alchemist.’ The two set out on camels and stop at an oasis, where Santiago instantly falls in love with a woman named Fatima. The Englishman also manages to find his coveted alchemist, who shares many wisdoms with the two, for example, that, in this world, the language of the world is the spiritual communication of all beings, such as omens and body language. The Alchemist urges Santiago to follow his personal legend despite his bond to Fatima and, by proxy, the oasis. Though torn between staying with his love and realizing his personal legend, he sets out to the pyramids with The Alchemist. In the midst of their journey, however, Arabian soldiers capture them; Santiago is only spared his life by The Alchemist convincing the soldiers that Santiago will turn into wind. Santiago is able to communicate with the desert and summons a sandstorm that makes the soldiers let him go. At the pyramids, he is informed of a stranger's dream and personal legend, one of treasure waiting in Spain where Santiago began his journey. Realizing his treasure really required an appreciation not of a place but of given circumstances, Santiago plans to obtain his treasure and return to Fatima. 

Analysis

Coehlo says he is a catholic despite the fact that some of his beliefs do not align with traditional Catholicism. Many of his stances resemble that of spiritualism, such as a belief in omens, existentialism, and prophetic dreams. This explains many of The Alchemist’s themes, being as focused on personal legends and omens as it is. The Alchemist has many morals beyond very individualistic beliefs, however, such as faith in true love and soulmates, of a God, the purpose of life laying not in physical progress but in spiritual acceptance, and a disapproval of those too scared to pursue what they want, amongst others. Overall, however, I believe the book’s message can be boiled-down to ‘learn the language of the universe,’ that is, learn to interact with the spiritual world Coehlo believes in through means of personal legends and communicating with the world through omens.

Review

At first glance, The Alchemist looks like a simply-written yet sophisticated book; it has an understandable plot and writing style yet many morals, so who’s to say that it’s incomparable to works like The Little Prince by Antoine De Saint Exupery(I will be using that comparison often in this review)? Well, I think The Alchemist has the bones of an extraordinary fable like Exupery’s, but its meat is lacking. That is, I believe The Alchemist is a chaotic and underdeveloped mess of a book, The Little Prince but if it were written in a day or two. It had potential that was squandered by the lack of thought put into essential parts of storytelling, from its morals to its writing to its characters and tension. Let’s begin respectively. 

The Alchemist has few qualms with throwing an idea at the reader and presenting it as a conclusion rather than a speculation or the beginning of a well-developed theory for the reader to elaborate on themselves. For example, omens are integral to The Alchemist, and since the novel is advertised as a sort of self-help book with a plot, one would expect Coehlo to try and tie this idea in to the real world somehow or at least provide some reasoning for why he believes this aside from omens only obvious in The Alchemist. No such evidence or support is provided; omens are obviously present in The Alchemist but their validity relies on the nature of their being in the book unfounded or more difficult to find in the real world, and Coehlo never even explains why he believes in omens, so it’s a setup for nothing. This is a common theme throughout The Alchemist, from its support of personal legends to prophetic dreams to love at first sight to the language of the universe, Coehlo relies on the sheer obviousness of the world he made to get his points across and loses their potential support in the process. This harm’s the book’s philosophies regardless of whether they are accurate or not. 

Adding to the novel’s problems, the writing itself(that is, the English translation) is not very good. Now, I want to make something clear: a book doesn’t need to be Nabokovian to have good writing. One can use very common words and simple sentence structures and be better writers than the greats if they write wisely and make the most of its simplicity. The Little Prince has a simple writing style, but it flows with believable dialogue, clever metaphors, and good pacing. Compare those qualities to this excerpt from The Alchemist: 

“The first day passed. There was a major battle nearby, and a number of wounded were brought back to the camp. The dead soldiers were replaced by others, and life went on. Death doesn’t change anything, the boy thought.”

This paragraph is clunky. Sentences that could have led from one to the next in a steady, effortless rhythm instead clash and seem to be thrown together to form a mix of disconnected and boring facts. This could have been written so much more interestingly; does Santiago feel bad for the soldiers? Does he feel guilty for not helping with the battle? What did the wounded look like? How does he feel? A running problem in The Alchemist is how emotionally barren it is. True, I still would have grilled Coehlo if he wrote ‘Santiago is sad,’ but that is because the point could have been gotten across more subtly and believably: ‘The metallic stench of blood weighed on Santiago,’ for example. Expanding on this, let’s see what happens when I add my personal interpretation of how this paragraph could have been more fluent and emotionally powerful;

“The soldiers fought through the day and through the night, only that and the growing stench marking the time. A time-marker of blood, of hope, of death, of the many qualities of the people in the oasis, shattered to sand. Once those grains were gone, more rushed to the battlefield, sandstorm after sandstorm, life after life, gone. In the end, though, it changed nothing. Blood, hope, and death never really do.” 

By no means do I think this is perfect, but I think it goes to show a sliver of how much can be accomplished with relatively simple writing styles; they do not have to be clunky, they do not have to be bland, and they can get a point across and convey emotion at the same time. 

Then again, even if Coehlo’s prose was Nabokovian, this would not erase the blandness, homogeneity and monotony of his characters. Now, I found Santiago’s personality to be enjoyable enough; Coehlo represented his longing for something beyond the fields of Andalusia, his metaphorical mind as well as his determination yet uncertainty in life well enough. I have no problem with Santiago, but it would be very nice if every character in the book weren’t Santiago. What character doesn’t believe in the universal language? Who ever challenges Santiago’s certainties? When is Santiago not only mistaken in the way he goes about pursuing his personal legend but in an integral part of his worldview? I will summarize all three with these words; ‘noone,’ ‘never,’ and, ‘never - again!’ Everyone in this book nods along to Santiago’s beliefs; if the universal language is so rare, why does everyone agree on it? The characters feel less like individuals and more like fourth-wall breaks for Coehlo to dump yet another underdeveloped idea on the reader or pat himself on the back about how everyone in a fictional world he made agrees with him. Maybe if one or two characters opposed Santiago’s beliefs, made him question, realign or maybe even change his worldview, The Alchemist would feel more like the philosophical contemplation it was marketed as and less like a spiritualist self-help book with a plot. Instead, however, Santiago accomplishes his personal legend and has each of his beliefs solidified by every single character in the book. Where’s the internal struggle? Where’s the idea that things may not always be as they seem, that humans make mistakes? Such themes are forgotten in the world of The Alchemist.

I give The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo a 30%. 

Conclusion/Review without spoilers

I had a rough time with this book. The wise, helpful, and insightful self-help it was sold as did not deliver on any of those qualities for me due to its portrayal of very subjective values as universal truths without any evidence or reasoning provided for them outside the universe of the book and poor writing. Despite all this, I understand how this book has helped many, especially those who already had beliefs similar to Coehlo’s. Beyond my relentless criticisms, The Alchemist is a hopeful fable of finding your purpose in the world. It may not have connected to me, but it is no coincidence that celebrities call it a favorite, that it’s a bestseller, and is beloved amongst many. This review evaluated The Alchemist’s objective value, to which I say that it is bad literature. Subjectively, though, it impacted so many people, it motivated, it inspired, and no matter how many bland characters, lazy writings and oversimplified answers it may have, I will forever admire The Alchemist for touching so many people. After all, what is literature but a communication of one’s self, of sharing that self with others for them to internalise and keep a personalised fragment of this person within them?

I recommend The Alchemist to those in need of a meaning in life, who don’t want to wade through dense prose and complex stories or characters. Sometimes, all we really need, all we really should have, is something that keeps us going in life. I’m sure The Alchemist will fulfil that for many, and for that, I am forever grateful.

[a-sleepy-reader]

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov: an Analysis and Review

Foreword

Trigger warning for themes of paedophilia, sexual assault, stillbirth, manipulation, violence, and tragedy as well as gruesome descriptions of death. If you want a review free of spoilers, please scroll to the section labelled ‘Conclusion/Review without spoilers.’

Introduction

Calling Lolita a controversial novel is a safe bet. Some readers revolt at its topic, others still protest it as the inspirational romance of the century. Both give Lolita a bad name. I will say it once very clearly; plot-wise, Lolita is a book about a paedophile who grooms, manipulates, isolates, and rapes a twelve year old girl. It is disturbing subject material to say the least, subject material that has to be given more thought than its protagonist’s ramblings of adoration for the book’s namesake. 

For instance, despite its fluctuating reputation, Lolita has found itself to be a playful and humorous novel to many, a “...comedy of horrors” according to the San Francisco Chronicle. So what is Lolita, exactly? A comedy? A thriller? Both? It is time to examine this twisted novel and see just how tangled its thorns are.

Plot synopsis

Humbert Humbert is a typical man by most standards: a handsome, French writer and professor with a soft spot for road trips… and little girls. 

Humbert categorises the sexes into the male, the female, and the nymphet, the latter of which describes peculiar young girls Humbert feels an intangible attraction to. It is with such a nymphet that Humbert self-describingly falls in love with; rambunctious twelve-year-old Dolores(whom he dons ‘Lolita). He cannot keep his mind off of her; ‘light of my life, fire of my loins.’ In however poetic a prose he may choose to describe it, Humbert feels a physical bond to young Dolores like to no one else since his dead childhood sweetheart. Humbert goes so far to pursue the girl that he marries her mother, whom he plots to drown in the blue depths of a lake to have Dolores all to himself. However, what Humbert describes as a work of fate led to the day Dolores’ mother’s brain lay strewn about the road, smeared by an incoming car. She didn’t need to be subject to Humbert’s schemes to die.

From there on, Humbert has legal custody over the twelve-year-old fire of his loins. Raping Dolores becomes a routine. Though she does initially say yes, she is a minor incapable of consent in the imbalance of a grown man with everything to lose if she is to either escape or stop the affair; she will lose her only family if she reports him, and risks breaking his heart if she cuts off the affair altogether-unfortunates only know what people do when they have nothing to lose. Orphaned and trapped, Lolita agrees to Humbert’s ‘love.’ As he described it, ‘she had nowhere else to go.’ 

Two years pass before Dolores falls ill during their second road trip and is taken out of the hospital by an uncle aware of Humbert’s affairs. By way of escaping with this newfound relative, Dolores is finally free from Humbert’s possessive grasp. Depressed by his separation from the girl, Humbert lives a miserable life for several years before receiving a letter from Dolores herself saying she is married and pregnant. Though Humbert suspects the man behind both titles is her own uncle, Dolores refutes this by saying that, though she was in love with him, they did not settle because she refused to be in his pornographic film.

Enraged with the uncle, Humbert arrives at Dolores’ uncle’s house and murders him before being arrested. It is here that we learn Lolita is Humbert’s autobiography of the events surrounding his ‘love’ for the book’s namesake. Though he wishes for the girl-turned-woman to live for a great many years, the victim, escapee, and survivor dies in 1952 during childbirth. Her offspring is a stillborn.

Analysis

It’s a curious thing, really. That so many interpret Lolita as a romance, I mean. Of course, it often presents itself in its writing as a summery romance to read on the beach. A handsome man meets a female. An attraction is felt. Male and female confess an attraction for one another which leads them on a series of road trips following the female’s mother’s incidental death. The language is no exception to this tone-just read the first paragraph: 

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.”

It’s made up of beautiful, flowery sentences, language suggestive of the pure romance of a man ‘in love.’ With a twelve year old girl he rapes. Yes, Lolita is one of those novels that wears many outfits, its outermost lining being that of a tragic love story of one traumatised man and his ungrateful lover. This perspective is especially interesting when taking into account Lolita’s exquisite writing; could the flowery language have prompted so many to interpret this book as a romance? Could Lolita be representative of how so many wield words to distract or deceive those trying their best to disapprove of them? Either way, few deny that Humbert is lying, to himself or to the reader, of exactly how the events of his fascination with Dolores occurred. Digging further into the book, Lolita becomes  an unreliable narrator’s documentation of the rape and manipulation directed toward a naive minor trying to cope with her mother’s death. Further still, it is a comedic satire of a paedophile’s attempts  to justify his crimes... and failing miserably. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I wasn’t even her first lover.” Deeper still and it’s one man’s search for his childhood sweetheart(dearest and deadest) he never finished loving, so he seeks, endlessly, to shower her lookalikes with unwanted ‘love.’ Without end. Without fulfilment. 

Lolita is a story of infinite stories.

Review

What first struck me about Lolita was its beautiful writing; its eloquent prose, imagery, and metaphors hopelessly hooked me from the first paragraph. Nabokov never ceases to use amazing similes, description, and personification to amplify the reader’s experience of the goings-on of Humbert and the girl. This is especially striking in contrast to its tragic subject material; Humbert will rape, and he will manipulate, and he will scheme a murder, and he will hurt so many innocent lives, but he will do so with seemingly effortless grace in the scribbles on a paper. 

Despite this, I did not find Lolita to be a difficult read regarding comprehension of the text. True, many a word I did not understand, but, despite this, I could always tell what was being communicated; the language is certainly not as dated as Hemingway nor Shakespeare. It may even be a calming read for those with a strong stomach, and will certainly teach a thing or two to those wishing to learn more about poetic writing styles done well. 

Some may find the book to be lacking in terms of plot and overall excitement, but I feel this is a subjective view rather than a relatively factual one; Lolita is not an action book. Nor is it a drama. Humbert sometimes spends pages describing the exact locations of a road trip, or exactly how he earned money in the 50’s, and so forth. Some may find this mundane; I will admit that I was, at times, bored by it myself. However, what Nabokov sacrifices in brevity he makes up for with a profound understanding of Humbert’s emotions, environment, and thoughts. 

One slight criticism I do, however, have, is that I found all of the characters in Lolita were fairly bland for me. True, Humbert is unique in his attempt to beautify the macabre, but beyond the initial shock factor of his morale and the revelation that he is seeking the love of a girlfriend from his childhood, Humbert can be mostly summarised as ‘quiet, manipulative, scheming, and possessive of Dolores.’ I was not invested in him as a character, probably due to a lack of good qualities within him; it is true that by one perspective, his story can be interpreted as tragic for him, though through the more common lens of Lolita being a 336-page manipulation of the severity of the atrocities of an evil man, Humbert loses all good qualities beyond his capabilities as a writer.

The same goes for Dolores herself, as I found her to be fairly two-dimensional; she is very sensory and seeks goods of food and adventure and she has a rambunctious heart unconcerned with how others’ feel nor how others perceive her. She is what many would call a ‘wild child,’ and though she becomes more withdrawn later in the book due to the numerous abuses she endured, I did not see much depth to her beyond face value. 

That being said, I certainly do not think the characters are bad, just that they are underwhelming in comparison to the rest of the story. 

I recommend Lolita to those enthralled by character-driven stories of nuanced emotions and traumas, a sort of story of the broken attempting to break the whole. If you are not put off by very thorough descriptions nor by a purposefully thin plot, I have the impression Lolita will revolt, horrify, hypnotise, and seduce its readers into its soft, macabre pages. 

I give Lolita a rating of 90%.

Conclusion/Review without spoilers

Lolita is a vile, endlessly layered story of trauma and the endless search for lost love, horrific abuses, of humorous wit and smirking irony, and of one man’s endless destiny of deceit. I suppose Humbert’s own initials best summarise the smile and wink this book will deliver as you holler at Humbert, weep for Dolores, or perhaps even vice versa. They do say Russians are witty, and Nabokov does not fail this reputation even when we analyse how Humbert Humbert’s initials sound in the author’s native language: 

Ha-ha.