Books I read in October 2005

  • The Sea
    by John Banville

    "How wildly the wind blows today, thumping its big soft ineffectual fists on the window panes."

    I don't know whether or not I'll read any more ofJohn Banville's books. I can't deny that I found the vocabulary difficult at times (should have had a dictionary near me when reading it, though the language is indulgent and delightful),and it seems to me that this is a book that would repay academic study. Something in it reminds me of Ford Madox Ford's The Good Soldier-- the retrospective first person narration of a tragedy, the narrator belying himself in some way, the lines of desire to follow, to track. Though in some measure I found it very unrewarding until the last ten pages, it's good to see a more literary book win the Booker, and I know I'm very grateful that this won rather than Zadie Smith or Julian Barnes particularly.

     

     

     
  • Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter 6) [Adult edition]
    by J.K. Rowling

    Well, this was comfort reading whilst I was poorly.

     
  • A Long Long Way
    by Sebastian Barry

    This was a great book; I galloped through it. The voice of the protagonist, Willie Dunne, was astoundingly clear, and the Irish background was interesting, though it could have been a little stronger to distinguish it from other WW1 novels.

     
  • Les Enfants Terribles
    by Jean Cocteau

    Odd, a little disturbing.

     
  • The Amateur Marriage
    by Anne Tyler

    Came free with a magazine.

     
  • The White Masai
    by Corinne Hofmann

    Gary Pulsifer from Arcadia gave me a copy :-)

     
  • The Double (Hesperus Classics)
    by Fyodor Dostoevsky

    Reminded me of reading Gogol, and of Hogg's Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner-- seeing one's doppelganger looming out of the mist ( in the case of Hogg, atmospherically on top of Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh). 

    It is horrifying that Dostoevksy captures the pettiness and meanness of our humanity. I despise the main character, Golyadkin, yet can't fail to recognise in myself the same kind of anguish that he experiences, in the division of our projected self from our honest, secret self.