There are a LOT of "greatest" lists out there, but it seems that the most renown are either from Times Magazine or from the Modern Library. Since Times' list is from 1923 onwards, I'm going to use Modern Library's list as the ultimate based solely on the fact that I enjoy their editions.
I had a look through this list last year, so let's see if I've progressed.
ULYSSES by James Joyce (own)
THE GREAT GATSBY by F. Scott Fitzgerald
A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN by James Joyce (own)
LOLITA by Vladimir Nabokov
BRAVE NEW WORLD by Aldous Huxley
THE SOUND AND THE FURY by William Faulkner
CATCH-22 by Joseph Keller
DARKNESS AT NOON by Arthur Koestler
SONS AND LOVERS by D.H. Lawrence
THE GRAPES OF WRATH by John Steinbeck
UNDER THE VOLCANO by Malcolm Lowry
THE WAY OF ALL FLESH by Samuel Butler
1984 by George Orwell
I, CLAUDIUS by Robert Graves (own)
TO THE LIGHTHOUSE by Virginia Woolf
AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY by Theodore Dreiser
THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER by Carson McCullers
SLAUGHTERHOUSE-FIVE by Kurt Vonnegut
INVISIBLE MAN by Ralph Ellison (own)
NATIVE SON by Richard Wright
HENDERSON THE RAIN KING by Saul Bellow
APPOINTMENT IN SAMARRA by John O'Hara
U.S.A. (trilogy) by John Dos Passos
WINESBURG, OHIO by Sherwood Anderson
A PASSAGE TO INDIA by E.M. Forster
THE WINGS OF THE DOVE by Henry James
THE AMBASSADORS by Henry James (own)
TENDER IS THE NIGHT by F. Scott Fitzgerald (reading next month)
THE STUDS LONIGAN TRILOGY by James T. Farrell
THE GOOD SOLDIER by Ford Madox Ford (own)
ANIMAL FARM by George Orwell
THE GOLDEN BOWL by Henry James
SISTER CARRIE by Theodore Dreiser
A HANDFUL OF DUST by Evelyn Waugh
AS I LAY DYING by William Faulkner
ALL THE KING'S MEN by Robert Penn Warren (own)
THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY by Thornton Wilder
HOWARDS END by E.M. Forster (own)
GO TELL IT ON THE MOUNTAIN by James Baldwin
THE HEART OF THE MATTER by Graham Greene
LORD OF THE FLIES by William Golding
DELIVERANCE by James Dickey
A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME (series) by Anthony Powell
POINT COUNTER POINT by Aldous Huxley
THE SUN ALSO RISES by Ernest Hemingway
THE SECRET AGENT by Joseph Conrad (own)
NOSTROMO by Joseph Conrad (own)
THE RAINBOW by D.H. Lawrence
WOMEN IN LOVE by D.H. Lawrence (own)
TROPIC OF CANCER by Henry Miller
THE NAKED AND THE DEAD by Norman Mailer
PORTNOY'S COMPLAINT by Philip Roth
PALE FIRE by Vladimir Nabokov (own)
LIGHT IN AUGUST by William Faulkner (own)
ON THE ROAD by Jack Kerouac
THE MALTESE FALCON by Dashiell Hammett
PARADE'S END by Ford Madox Ford
THE AGE OF INNOCENCE by Edith Wharton
ZULEIKA DOBSON by Max Beerbohm
THE MOVIEGOER by Walker Percy
DEATH COMES FOR THE ARCHBISHOP by Willa Cather
FROM HERE TO ETERNITY by James Jones
THE WAPSHOT CHRONICLES by John Cheever
THE CATCHER IN THE RYE by J.D. Salinger
A CLOCKWORK ORANGE by Anthony Burgess
OF HUMAN BONDAGE by W. Somerset Maugham
HEART OF DARKNESS by Joseph Conrad
MAIN STREET by Sinclair Lewis (own)
THE HOUSE OF MIRTH by Edith Wharton
THE ALEXANDRIA QUARTET by Lawrence Durell
A HIGH WIND IN JAMAICA by Richard Hughes
A HOUSE FOR MR BISWAS by V.S. Naipaul
THE DAY OF THE LOCUST by Nathanael West
A FAREWELL TO ARMS by Ernest Hemingway
SCOOP by Evelyn Waugh
THE PRIME OF MISS JEAN BRODIE by Muriel Spark
FINNEGANS WAKE by James Joyce
KIM by Rudyard Kipling (own)
A ROOM WITH A VIEW by E.M. Forster
BRIDESHEAD REVISITED by Evelyn Waugh
THE ADVENTURES OF AUGIE MARCH by Saul Bellow
ANGLE OF REPOSE by Wallace Stegner (own)
A BEND IN THE RIVER by V.S. Naipaul
THE DEATH OF THE HEART by Elizabeth Bowen
LORD JIM by Joseph Conrad (own)
RAGTIME by E.L. Doctorow
THE OLD WIVES' TALE by Arnold Bennett
THE CALL OF THE WILD by Jack London
LOVING by Henry Green
MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN by Salman Rushdie
TOBACCO ROAD by Erskine Caldwell
IRONWEED by William Kennedy
THE MAGUS by John Fowles (own)
WIDE SARGASSO SEA by Jean Rhys
UNDER THE NET by Iris Murdoch
SOPHIE'S CHOICE by William Styron
THE SHELTERING SKY by Paul Bowles
THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE by James M. Cain
THE GINGER MAN by J.P. Donleavy
THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS by Booth Tarkington
I'm up nearly 50%, from 14 to 22*. Not great, but moving in the right direction :)
The one thing I don't like about this list, is that all the books seem to have been written in English. Where are the Russians (Dostoevsky, Pasternak, Tolstoy)? Where are the English (Tolkien, Dickens, Hardy)?
*Note: Updated October 2010.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
My Comfort Reads
A fellow book club member recently came up with a list of her top 10 comfort reads and I have shamelessly stolen the idea. I’ve been thinking about it in the back of my mind all day. I suppose that everyone will have a different definition for such a list, but I will give you my preliminary attempt:
A “comfort read” is a novel that sticks with you in one way or another. It’s a novel that you’ve learned something from or felt strongly about (emotionally or philosophically). It’s a novel that epitomizes a time in your life or a feeling in your life that you remember vividly – likely a transition point. To me, after the structure and story of the work leaves my mind the emotional impression is still there. It’s a novel that while you are reading another work, you wish you were reading the comfort read again. The experience of reading the work has a history with you in some way, has stirred you to a point that you cannot forget.
I could only come up with a top six off the top of my head, so I will have to give it some more thought to get it to 10 (if 10 exist).
The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien (1937)
I remember in elementary school, taking out our textbook and reading selected excerpts from popular works. Other than “Jabberwocky”, the ones that stick out in my head were Homer’s “Odyssey” (which I have yet to read) and “Riddles in the Dark”, the popular chapter where Bilbo wins the Ring in a battle of wits with Gollum. I loved the excerpt so much that I made my father buy me the novel along with most of the Lord of the Rings books that the store had (they were missing the Fellowship of the Ring, so I ended up getting a different edition – this perturbed me for years afterwards). Anyway, I remember being shocked that my father would actually buy these for me. I can’t remember him ever having bought me anything, and he has never been a fan of literature (he only reads John Grisham novels), so I must have made some sort of impression on him.
I loved “The Hobbit” the most of the Tolkien books. I have read it twice and I still have many fond memories that will never be affected by the movies. I long to attend the table of Beorn and watch him shapeshift. I would like to whistle with Tom Bombadill, roving through tall grasses and sitting by willow trees. I long to sit by the fire and eat sweetcakes with Bifor, Bofur and Bombur... and all the other dwarves. When in a rut, I’d love to go adventuring on the downs (despite the danger) and see what prizes can be found there. In short, the world Tolkien created fascinated me and appealed to me on a level that I never knew existed. It took me to places I had never been before and I continually want to grab the book from my shelves and dive back into it.
The Dark is Rising, Susan Cooper (1974)
This young adult novel was probably one of the first I had ever read. It ended up winning the Newberry Award, and I believe it was recommended to me... or we read a snippet of it in elementary school. I don’t know if any of you remember when Scholastic used to come to the school and your parents would give you money to order select books of your choosing. I ended up buying the whole series, and they still sit on my bookshelf.
I remember feeling the fear of Will Stanton in his fight with the Dark. I remember signs (representing the elements and represented physically by a circle with an X through them) and the feeling that when Stanton found one, he would be protected from evil. The plot completely escapes me, but the impression left was a deep one. It makes me sad as an adult to think that many kids in today’s society don’t experience this pleasure and sense of adventure.
“When the Dark comes rising, six shall turn it back;
Three from the circle, three from the track;
Wood, bronze, iron; water, fire, stone;
Five will return, and one go alone.”
Henderson the Rain King, Saul Bellow (1959)
I originally read this novel because my favourite band in 1993, The Counting Crows, wrote a song about it entitled “The Rain King.” Since I felt so connected with the band (their lyrics, emotional style, etc), I figured I would give the novel a shot. I remember feeling more moved by this novel than I had been in virtually all other novels (save for a famous work to be discussed later by Salinger). That said, I completely forgot the plot and the only thing that remained was my identification with the main character, Henderson. Here’s a good synopsis from Wikipedia if you want to check it out:
“Eugene Henderson is a troubled middle-aged man. Despite his riches, high social status, and physical prowess, he feels restless and unfulfilled, and harbors a spiritual void that manifests itself as an inner voice crying out I want, I want, I want. Hoping to discover what the voice wants, Henderson goes to Africa.
Upon reaching Africa, Henderson splits with his original group and hires a native guide, Romilayu. Romilayu leads Henderson to the village of the Arnewi, where Henderson befriends the leaders of the village. He learns that the cistern from which the Arnewi get their drinking water is plagued by frogs, thus rendering the water "unclean" according to local taboos. Henderson attempts to save the Arnewi by ridding them of the frogs, but his enthusiastic scheme ends in disaster.
Henderson and Romilayu travel on to the village of the Wariri. Here, Henderson impulsively performs a feat of strength by moving the giant stone statue of the goddess Mummah and unwittingly becomes Wariri Rain King. He quickly develops a friendship with the native-born but western-educated Chief, King Dahfu, with whom he engages in a series of far-reaching philosophical discussions.
The elders send Dahfu to find a lion, which is supposedly the reincarnation of the late king, Dahfu's father. The lion hunt fails and the lion mortally wounds the king. Henderson learns shortly before Dahfu's death that the Rain King is the next person in the line of succession for the throne. Fearing the elders would rather see him dead than lead the Wariri, Henderson flees the Wariri village.
Although it is unclear whether Henderson has truly found spiritual contentment, the novel ends on an optimistic and uplifting note.”
The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho (1993)
The subtitle of this work was “A Fable about Following Your Dreams,” which is telling. The novel is written with a simplistic plot and a simplistic language, and I often recommend it to people who don’t usually read a lot. I really enjoyed the story, and enjoyed reading about the author, Paulo Coelho... a man whose parents wanted him to become a doctor and when he refused and stated he wanted to be a writer... sent him for electroshock therapy. This happened a few times, and ultimately, he became a writer and sold millions of copies in more languages than I could list. The thing about this novel, is that the ideas stuck with me for quite some time afterwards. The story was a good one, but the concepts were really important in my life at the time. I read this in university, a time when I was really trying to find who I was and this novel gave me a bunch of good pointers.
It was famous by the time I read it, but it hadn’t quite made its rounds to the people who are liable to read books like “The Secret”. Had it already made it to this audience, I probably wouldn’t have picked it up.
Doctor Zhivago, Boris Pasternak (1957)
I read this book probably about five years ago, and when I look back at my comment on why it was one of my all-time favourites, I came across this quote: “I believe Zhivago's search for self, purpose and a harmony with nature resounds in my soul.” This sums it up rather nicely, I think. I remember thinking very strongly that Pasternak was a man that I would really have loved to have met. He was obviously an enlightened being, but it went much further than that. He had a compassion for people, a desire to aid them and a strong love of nature. Zhivago himself was figuring all this out in his life, and you could feel the progression. I used to think that my girlfriend brought out my latent inner hippy-self, but I distinctly remember the strong feeling of it in this book. Think of it as Huckleberry Finn for adults. Forget the theme of adventure and concentrate the love for the outdoors, and then focus on that feeling with an adult mindset on individual things that speak to you.... like the fragrance of cherry blossoms. This is what I remember about Doctor Zhivago. Despite all the sh*t that was going on in Russia, he still appreciated the smaller things. He had passion like a child, but the appreciation was that of an adult learning about himself and the world. This really resonated with me.
The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger (1951)
Widely regarded as one of the greatest books of all-time, this book was either perfection for readers or trash. I know several people who just don’t get this book, and I can’t figure out why. So far I have not been able to segregate the people who feel resonation with this book and those that don’t. I had thought that it had something to do with education, but perhaps it’s just based on whether you feel misunderstood or not. Perhaps it has something to do with a person’s tendency to feel emotion by everyday things and events.
I have read this book three times, which is the most I have ever read a book. Each time I get something new out of it and it makes me want to become a writer. I am Holden Caulfield; I feel that somehow. I get his emotional ups and downs, his perceptive nature and his anger at himself and others. It makes so much sense to me that after I finish reading the novel, I feel like I can write another Holden story that comes from his mind.
This book stirs me to an emotional level that no book has ever done. As a consequence, I feel for Salinger and was grateful that he found a place of near seclusion from the world... save for his family (he had a horrible relationship with his daughter, but I think was close with at least one son). I have a biography that is supposed to be pretty crappy, but I may read it at one point anyway because I’m so curious (the only reason why I haven’t so far is because I consider invading any Salinger privacy as blasphemous). And I’m a little leery of reading anyone talk about Salinger’s life, including pundits and some relatives (especially his estranged daughter).
When I look at this list, what strikes me the most are the omissions. How did Hemingway not make this list? (Parenthetically, there are a few short stories that would apply) Where is John Steinbeck? While novels by these authors resonate with me strongly, I don’t seem to label them as comfort reads. Reflecting on the list shows me that some come from childhood, but most represent characters that I felt very strongly about because their ways of thinking resonated with me at the time and still do. While I go about this world constantly changing, these books mentioned are a part of me.
The definition of “comfort” books evolved as I wrote about my memories of these books. These are books I would bring with me if I was left alone on a deserted island, books I would want to read again before I quitted the earth. Re-reading them is a re-discovery of myself, and books that allow me that indulgence are priceless to me.
Thank you to Shannon for this idea – I enjoyed writing this post because I was able to experience all these great books and emotions all over again.
A “comfort read” is a novel that sticks with you in one way or another. It’s a novel that you’ve learned something from or felt strongly about (emotionally or philosophically). It’s a novel that epitomizes a time in your life or a feeling in your life that you remember vividly – likely a transition point. To me, after the structure and story of the work leaves my mind the emotional impression is still there. It’s a novel that while you are reading another work, you wish you were reading the comfort read again. The experience of reading the work has a history with you in some way, has stirred you to a point that you cannot forget.
I could only come up with a top six off the top of my head, so I will have to give it some more thought to get it to 10 (if 10 exist).
The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien (1937)
I remember in elementary school, taking out our textbook and reading selected excerpts from popular works. Other than “Jabberwocky”, the ones that stick out in my head were Homer’s “Odyssey” (which I have yet to read) and “Riddles in the Dark”, the popular chapter where Bilbo wins the Ring in a battle of wits with Gollum. I loved the excerpt so much that I made my father buy me the novel along with most of the Lord of the Rings books that the store had (they were missing the Fellowship of the Ring, so I ended up getting a different edition – this perturbed me for years afterwards). Anyway, I remember being shocked that my father would actually buy these for me. I can’t remember him ever having bought me anything, and he has never been a fan of literature (he only reads John Grisham novels), so I must have made some sort of impression on him.
I loved “The Hobbit” the most of the Tolkien books. I have read it twice and I still have many fond memories that will never be affected by the movies. I long to attend the table of Beorn and watch him shapeshift. I would like to whistle with Tom Bombadill, roving through tall grasses and sitting by willow trees. I long to sit by the fire and eat sweetcakes with Bifor, Bofur and Bombur... and all the other dwarves. When in a rut, I’d love to go adventuring on the downs (despite the danger) and see what prizes can be found there. In short, the world Tolkien created fascinated me and appealed to me on a level that I never knew existed. It took me to places I had never been before and I continually want to grab the book from my shelves and dive back into it.
The Dark is Rising, Susan Cooper (1974)
This young adult novel was probably one of the first I had ever read. It ended up winning the Newberry Award, and I believe it was recommended to me... or we read a snippet of it in elementary school. I don’t know if any of you remember when Scholastic used to come to the school and your parents would give you money to order select books of your choosing. I ended up buying the whole series, and they still sit on my bookshelf.
I remember feeling the fear of Will Stanton in his fight with the Dark. I remember signs (representing the elements and represented physically by a circle with an X through them) and the feeling that when Stanton found one, he would be protected from evil. The plot completely escapes me, but the impression left was a deep one. It makes me sad as an adult to think that many kids in today’s society don’t experience this pleasure and sense of adventure.
“When the Dark comes rising, six shall turn it back;
Three from the circle, three from the track;
Wood, bronze, iron; water, fire, stone;
Five will return, and one go alone.”
Henderson the Rain King, Saul Bellow (1959)
I originally read this novel because my favourite band in 1993, The Counting Crows, wrote a song about it entitled “The Rain King.” Since I felt so connected with the band (their lyrics, emotional style, etc), I figured I would give the novel a shot. I remember feeling more moved by this novel than I had been in virtually all other novels (save for a famous work to be discussed later by Salinger). That said, I completely forgot the plot and the only thing that remained was my identification with the main character, Henderson. Here’s a good synopsis from Wikipedia if you want to check it out:
“Eugene Henderson is a troubled middle-aged man. Despite his riches, high social status, and physical prowess, he feels restless and unfulfilled, and harbors a spiritual void that manifests itself as an inner voice crying out I want, I want, I want. Hoping to discover what the voice wants, Henderson goes to Africa.
Upon reaching Africa, Henderson splits with his original group and hires a native guide, Romilayu. Romilayu leads Henderson to the village of the Arnewi, where Henderson befriends the leaders of the village. He learns that the cistern from which the Arnewi get their drinking water is plagued by frogs, thus rendering the water "unclean" according to local taboos. Henderson attempts to save the Arnewi by ridding them of the frogs, but his enthusiastic scheme ends in disaster.
Henderson and Romilayu travel on to the village of the Wariri. Here, Henderson impulsively performs a feat of strength by moving the giant stone statue of the goddess Mummah and unwittingly becomes Wariri Rain King. He quickly develops a friendship with the native-born but western-educated Chief, King Dahfu, with whom he engages in a series of far-reaching philosophical discussions.
The elders send Dahfu to find a lion, which is supposedly the reincarnation of the late king, Dahfu's father. The lion hunt fails and the lion mortally wounds the king. Henderson learns shortly before Dahfu's death that the Rain King is the next person in the line of succession for the throne. Fearing the elders would rather see him dead than lead the Wariri, Henderson flees the Wariri village.
Although it is unclear whether Henderson has truly found spiritual contentment, the novel ends on an optimistic and uplifting note.”
The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho (1993)
The subtitle of this work was “A Fable about Following Your Dreams,” which is telling. The novel is written with a simplistic plot and a simplistic language, and I often recommend it to people who don’t usually read a lot. I really enjoyed the story, and enjoyed reading about the author, Paulo Coelho... a man whose parents wanted him to become a doctor and when he refused and stated he wanted to be a writer... sent him for electroshock therapy. This happened a few times, and ultimately, he became a writer and sold millions of copies in more languages than I could list. The thing about this novel, is that the ideas stuck with me for quite some time afterwards. The story was a good one, but the concepts were really important in my life at the time. I read this in university, a time when I was really trying to find who I was and this novel gave me a bunch of good pointers.
It was famous by the time I read it, but it hadn’t quite made its rounds to the people who are liable to read books like “The Secret”. Had it already made it to this audience, I probably wouldn’t have picked it up.
Doctor Zhivago, Boris Pasternak (1957)
I read this book probably about five years ago, and when I look back at my comment on why it was one of my all-time favourites, I came across this quote: “I believe Zhivago's search for self, purpose and a harmony with nature resounds in my soul.” This sums it up rather nicely, I think. I remember thinking very strongly that Pasternak was a man that I would really have loved to have met. He was obviously an enlightened being, but it went much further than that. He had a compassion for people, a desire to aid them and a strong love of nature. Zhivago himself was figuring all this out in his life, and you could feel the progression. I used to think that my girlfriend brought out my latent inner hippy-self, but I distinctly remember the strong feeling of it in this book. Think of it as Huckleberry Finn for adults. Forget the theme of adventure and concentrate the love for the outdoors, and then focus on that feeling with an adult mindset on individual things that speak to you.... like the fragrance of cherry blossoms. This is what I remember about Doctor Zhivago. Despite all the sh*t that was going on in Russia, he still appreciated the smaller things. He had passion like a child, but the appreciation was that of an adult learning about himself and the world. This really resonated with me.
The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger (1951)
Widely regarded as one of the greatest books of all-time, this book was either perfection for readers or trash. I know several people who just don’t get this book, and I can’t figure out why. So far I have not been able to segregate the people who feel resonation with this book and those that don’t. I had thought that it had something to do with education, but perhaps it’s just based on whether you feel misunderstood or not. Perhaps it has something to do with a person’s tendency to feel emotion by everyday things and events.
I have read this book three times, which is the most I have ever read a book. Each time I get something new out of it and it makes me want to become a writer. I am Holden Caulfield; I feel that somehow. I get his emotional ups and downs, his perceptive nature and his anger at himself and others. It makes so much sense to me that after I finish reading the novel, I feel like I can write another Holden story that comes from his mind.
This book stirs me to an emotional level that no book has ever done. As a consequence, I feel for Salinger and was grateful that he found a place of near seclusion from the world... save for his family (he had a horrible relationship with his daughter, but I think was close with at least one son). I have a biography that is supposed to be pretty crappy, but I may read it at one point anyway because I’m so curious (the only reason why I haven’t so far is because I consider invading any Salinger privacy as blasphemous). And I’m a little leery of reading anyone talk about Salinger’s life, including pundits and some relatives (especially his estranged daughter).
When I look at this list, what strikes me the most are the omissions. How did Hemingway not make this list? (Parenthetically, there are a few short stories that would apply) Where is John Steinbeck? While novels by these authors resonate with me strongly, I don’t seem to label them as comfort reads. Reflecting on the list shows me that some come from childhood, but most represent characters that I felt very strongly about because their ways of thinking resonated with me at the time and still do. While I go about this world constantly changing, these books mentioned are a part of me.
The definition of “comfort” books evolved as I wrote about my memories of these books. These are books I would bring with me if I was left alone on a deserted island, books I would want to read again before I quitted the earth. Re-reading them is a re-discovery of myself, and books that allow me that indulgence are priceless to me.
Thank you to Shannon for this idea – I enjoyed writing this post because I was able to experience all these great books and emotions all over again.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Jane Eyre | Charlotte Bronte
WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS
The story begins with a young Jane Eyre, who is living with her aunt and cousins in England. Jane's uncle died years earlier, and on his deathbed made his wife (Jane's aunt) promise to keep Jane Eyre and treat her like one of their children. While Jane remained with the family, she was abused and treated like an inferior human being (worse than a servant).
After being shut up in a room for the day by her aunt (Jane was accused of hurting her cousin, though false) she passed out due to blood loss and fright by her perception of a ghost in the room at which she was kept. After the doctor (an inferior doctor for servants only) arrived, he had a chat with her and she told him her story. He asked her if she wanted to be in school, she consented and months later she was sent off to a nunnery. This pleased her aunt, as she was finally rid of Jane.
Despite pestilence (Typhus outbreak) at the Lowood School, Jane Eyre lived and eventually became a teacher there. After 8 years of the school, she took out an advertisement in a local paper and she was granted a governess position. She eventually fell in love with the Governor, and he returned the feeling towards her. On their wedding day, it was discovered that the Governor (Mr. Rochester) was already married to an insane women who lived in the attic.
Jane could not wed Mr. Rochester and she left early the next morning for the farthest town she could afford to get to. Due to lack of money and therefore food and shelter, Jane passes out on the steps of someones house after she is refused entrance by the servant. Eventually the head of the house comes home and takes her in and nurses her back to health.
She ends up working as a school teacher in town, and staying with the Rivers (John and his two sisters) only to find out when a relative dies that she is related to the Rivers. She amasses a large inheritance (splits it with her three relatives) and eventually leaves the household and returns to Mr. Rochester, now blind and crippled from a fire in which his insane wife started (she died jumping off the roof). Jane eventually weds Mr. Rochester despite his conditions and the two live happily ever after. So it goes.
I'm not sure how this summary comes across - I have greatly simplified things on the account of space and time. However, I really enjoyed this novel. The characters were likable, the story was somehow not formulaic and the prose was excellent (the vocabulary of Charlotte Bronte was extensive). I don't get a feeling for anything happening outside the story of these individuals, but I wasn't bothered by that as much as I was in "Pride & Prejudice" and I think that this is because there was so much more to latch onto.
Themes of love and perception were important and spirituality played a large role in events within the novel. There was some excellent foreshadowing (the splitting of the chestnut tree in the storm) and the characters were described well - they seemed like real people with faults and strengths unlike the complete stereotypes in "Pride and Prejudice."
In sum, I really enjoyed this work. Couple this with my positive experience with Wuthering Heights (written by Emily Bronte), and I must say that I have an affinity towards the Bronte sisters. It's a shame that Charlotte only wrote three works (not including one published posthumously)... but I'm fairly certain that I will give another one of her novels a go (Emily only wrote one novel before passing away at the age of 30 due to TB).
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Bookshelf Status
One of my fellow bookclubbers is always quoting statistics on the number of unread books on her shelf. I have assumed that as I continue to expand my collection at a rate far more rapid than the rate at which I read, that I had probably only read one tenth of what I have on my shelves. Since I can only get to about a book a month [current bookclub frequency], I figured that I probably buy at least five for every one I read... meaning that my percentage unread may at least be going in the right direction... but that I'll never get around to finishing everything I own [which, should really be the point].
So for now, I decided to do a check-in. Since I have all my books listed in a spreadsheet [insert comment here], I decided to do a quick tabulation. Since I also have the propensity to acquire multiple copies of the same book, this isn't exactly perfect but it's a fast way of seeing what percentage of books I have on my shelves.
Total books: 447 [wow, I have a collection problem]
Unread = 304. If I currently read one book a month and do not obtain any more, I will complete my reading in 25 years... roughly the age at which I retire. This assumes that I will continue to have the same amount of reading time now as when I have children [knock on wood]... which is obviously not the case.
Read = 143. I am surprised by this number. If you assume that I roughly started reading 10 years ago [well before I had the bookshelves I have now and prior to my university days], then I have read about 16 books a year [incorrectly assuming that I keep all my books - I usually give away books I dislike]. This seems about right.
This means that I have read 32% of books that are currently on my shelves. So, I've essentially read one third of everything I can lay my eyes on in my apartment. Considering I have some huge volumes, coupled with a lot of unread history books... this is much better than I anticipated.
So for now, I decided to do a check-in. Since I have all my books listed in a spreadsheet [insert comment here], I decided to do a quick tabulation. Since I also have the propensity to acquire multiple copies of the same book, this isn't exactly perfect but it's a fast way of seeing what percentage of books I have on my shelves.
Total books: 447 [wow, I have a collection problem]
Unread = 304. If I currently read one book a month and do not obtain any more, I will complete my reading in 25 years... roughly the age at which I retire. This assumes that I will continue to have the same amount of reading time now as when I have children [knock on wood]... which is obviously not the case.
Read = 143. I am surprised by this number. If you assume that I roughly started reading 10 years ago [well before I had the bookshelves I have now and prior to my university days], then I have read about 16 books a year [incorrectly assuming that I keep all my books - I usually give away books I dislike]. This seems about right.
This means that I have read 32% of books that are currently on my shelves. So, I've essentially read one third of everything I can lay my eyes on in my apartment. Considering I have some huge volumes, coupled with a lot of unread history books... this is much better than I anticipated.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Terminology: Jane Eyre
frock - a one-piece garment for a woman; has skirt and bodice
pinafore - jumper: a sleeveless dress resembling an apron; worn over other clothing
tucker - a detachable yoke of linen or lace worn over the breast of a low-cut dress
calico - coarse cloth with a bright print
freize - In architecture the frieze is the wide central section part of an entablature and may be plain or—in the Ionic or Corinthian order—decorated
chemise - a woman's sleeveless undergarment OR a loose-fitting dress hanging straight from the shoulders without a waist
chilblains - an inflammation of the hands and feet caused by exposure to cold and moisture
pinafore - jumper: a sleeveless dress resembling an apron; worn over other clothing
tucker - a detachable yoke of linen or lace worn over the breast of a low-cut dress
calico - coarse cloth with a bright print
freize - In architecture the frieze is the wide central section part of an entablature and may be plain or—in the Ionic or Corinthian order—decorated
chemise - a woman's sleeveless undergarment OR a loose-fitting dress hanging straight from the shoulders without a waist
chilblains - an inflammation of the hands and feet caused by exposure to cold and moisture
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