E. M. Forster's "A Room With A View"

Some books are terrible. Some books are amazing. Some start off great, and falter and the end. Others, start terribly but somehow pull it off in the end. Some have a mixture of characters that make you at once want to re-read in a day, and burn it in the fire. The books that are amazing are never amazing in the same way as another. "The Kite Runner"'s plot never stopped moving; Jane Austen could never fail to develop a character in some way; Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot will always be pompous, and Sherlock Holmes almost mad in his correct deductions. With "A Room With a View", I felt that I would be studious. I would copy out passages that were clever or confusing; I would read a few chapters a day, and finish when a few chapters per day would allow. In the beginning, this all seemed plausible. I laboriously copied out passages, and liked his writing; the plot seemed the kind that would slowly move forward, and lull to a finish.

But soon, things started to happen; the Emersons were ubiquitous, and the father's insights were long and I found the copying tedious. So, I gave it up; that is to say, I decided to simply read, look up the occasional word that wanted a definition, and put a small mark by the passages that I will one day return to, and copy over. This I found much more pleasing. And I abandoned the silly business of reading only a few pages a day. I have read more in the last three days than the four before, from when I started to read it.

I liked it, immensely. The characters were either hilarious, insightful, knowing, or otherwise moving the plot along. Forster's writing, though sometimes rather hard to understand, was beautiful and also descriptive. I sat beside Lucy in the carriage, I staid at the pension with her, I saw the church, saw the man stabbed, and I saw Italy. All without leaving Delaware. It was really quite something. If my unwillingness to copy passages struck you as reflecting his quality of writing, then I strike my words. It was his clever wording and insight, that's passages numbered at times four a page, that discouraged me, and slowed my progress considerably.

I found Lucy Honeychurch a worthy heroine. She was ignorant of quite a lot of the world, true, but she was driven to learn all that she could. Her not knowing only made the story more interesting. Her cousin's sheltering of Lucy did not help, but Miss Lavish did, by taking her Baedecker and leaving her for an old acquaintance. But, for the most part, it is by Lucy's own devices that she extricates herself from the watch of any guardian, and winds up witnessing a stabbing. I can't think of any other character quite like her; I think she is one of my favorites.

Well, another week, another novel. I must now read Emma; I know that I still have four school books to read, but it must be done. It will be by no means bad. I am only apprehensive of the undertaking. fifty pages in, I shall feel right at home. But I am going to take a short break, to read some nonfiction.

I read a book called "Sleep:The Mysterious Third of Your Life" by Jonathan and Marianna Kastner, and enjoyed it immensely. It was the perfect book to read before bed; nothing puts at ease more than reading about sleep study patients who helped to prove that it is possible to fall asleep with your eyes taped open. You just feel grateful. In addition, I got to learn all about the cycles of sleep, and know when I had got good or bad sleep. All in all, informative, easy to read, and a perfect before-bed book. I would by all means contact them, but they published this book in May 1968. I expect that they were at least in their thirties at the time, so I am afraid that they are in a nursing home, with probably very little memory of their book. It is a shame, for I would have loved to write them.

Next up, nonfiction, and holiday books (A Christmas Carol, etc.). Then: Emma. WIsh me luck.

Procrastination

In putting off Homer's Odyssey, I was eager for anything long and good to read. So, I picked up E. M. Forster's "A Room With A View".

It is wonderful. I loved Lucy as soon as I heard her last name ("Honeychurch"), and as she is exposed to the world she grows as a person, and character development is always something I look for, in a book.

I am on chapter eight, and can't wait to finish.

In the beginning, I copied out passages, but I have since stopped, because it seems as though there is at least one paragraph worth copying, on each page. I hope to be finished within a few days, although I supposed I'll then have to face The Odyssey. I know I will enjoy Homer, but I am still apprehensive, because it will be a lot of work. Until then, I will find solace in Forster, and, of course, the holidays.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini -- Chapter One

In listening to the audio recording of the first Harry Potter, it struck me that the first chapter was something of a masterpiece. Not a mention of magic or wizards in the whole of it. I decided that "The Kite Runner" had become something of a looming cloud, that was sure to overcome me soon. At a few minutes past nine, I opened the book, and read from the acknowledgments, to the end of the first chapter.

Now, the first chapter is very short, and this, coupled with the general light weight of the paperback, encouraged me. But the mass of the first chapter stopped me cold. I picked up a piece of loose-leaf paper that had fallen out of my Algebra 2 binder, stole a pen from "Inherit the Wind", and began to write.

The Kite Runner
by Khaled Hosseini

Chapter 1-Wonderful beginning -- I like the concept that a whole life can be defined by a single moment. He was twelve, and I'm thirteen.

I like how he sneaks the setting in: "peeking into the alley near the frozen creek"-tells me that it's cold outside. I can see him, "crouching behind a crumbling mud wall," his breath showing in the cold air. Also, the combination of "a crisp breeze" and "on a park bench by a willow tree" gives me the picture of a man by a willow tree, that is swaying in the breeze.

It seems symbolic, as though no man would sit by a willow tree that is swaying in the wind, unless thinking about something important.

But then I realized that I had written almost a whole page, about the setting, in a chapter that is two half-pages long. Either this Khaled Hosseini is an amazing writer, or I am suddenly the most insightful reader in the world.

Mr. Wallaby and Mr. Bowlinggap

A few minutes ago, I was talking to my sister Bella about casting for Jane Eyre (if we were to make a short adaptation); my brother Cruce surprised me when he showed an interest in making a movie of the book--I soon found that this was only because he wanted to be "the old mean guy...who sits by the fire" Mr. Rochester? Why? I thought I'd cast you as Jane Eyre, because you're slight, and Bella would be a good Mr. Rochester. Why do you want to be Rochester? Cruce: "I just want to to sit by the fire! [Rochester] gets to sit by the fire in his comfy chair, and say mean things about his daughter."

As I related this to Bella, we had a good laugh, and I explained about Mr. Rochester's character.

"He's kind of like Mr. Darcy; he's really mean to Jane Eyre in the beginning, and then he's nice at the end, and you find out that he was kind of nice all along..."

This led Bella to ask, "Oh, you mean like Mr. Wallaby?"

I promptly broke down, into dry sobs. I, unfortunately, knew exactly who she meant, and I managed to get out,

"Mr. Willoughby?!"

Yeah, Mr. Willoughby. Is he like Mr. Willoughby? No! He isn't!

"Well who's Snape's character?" asked Bella.

"Severus Snape," I told her.

"No! In the movie!"

"Oh, Sense and Sensibility?"

"Yeah, Sense and Sensibility. Who does he play? Mr. Bowlinggap?"

"Colonel...Colonel Brandon!"

"Oh... Yeah!"


We are taking it one day at a time.

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (Spoilers)

Sense and Sensibility is a beautifully crafted novel. The characters are Deep and develop throughout the story. The plot is both Inspired and deeply Complex. Austen crafted a masterpiece, with deception and lies, and kindness and love. With regards to some characters, I felt as though she could not have created a more horrible, vindictive kind of person, and with others, felt as though no person could be better or kinder.

The novel starts by challenging the reader. The first two chapters deal with Entailment and money, and how much should be given to John Dashwood's step sisters. It deals with pounds, and Allotments for servants and carriages. These chapters seemed to test my will. My love of Austen and desire to devour the novel, however, was strong: strong enough to get me through the exposition. As with Persuasion and Pride and Prejudice before it, I read and re-read, taking apart each sentence, and finding each foreign word's meaning. As I fell into the story, I began to write in the margins, and underline passages. I made a list of words that I did not know, and soon there was not a page that was not written on.

With good books, I always find, the reader's relationship with the story and the characters changes, from first opening it, to reading the last word. Apart from what ever troubles befall the characters, the reader begins to better know them, and a relationship forms. With Elinor I felt a Solidarity, and a likeness of character. Margaret, as well, I felt close too, as we are both thirteen. With others, like Mrs. Jennings and Lucy Steele, I was shocked to find their true characters. With Mrs. Jennings, I expected to find a Gossiper, who was not very bright, and interfered with every one's lives. Instead, I found a steadily kind, friendly woman; she was a doting mother and grandmother, a good friend to the Misses Dashwood, and, even when she believed Col. Brandon to be proposing to her friend, she moved away, to where she could not overhear, even though she dearly wanted to listen. With Lucy Steele, I was at first at a lost to find a fault in her, except perhaps her acutely lacking mind. By the end her character had been exposed.

The beaux in Sense and Sensibility widely differ. There is Edward Ferrars, brother of the horrible sister-in-law, Mrs. John Dashwood. He reminded me of Darcy, from Pride and Prejudice. He is shy, and only very agreeable, once he is better acquainted with his company. It recently struck me, on re-watching the Emma Thompson S&S movie, that Edward was the beau most likely to be not what he seemed. He comes from a Vile and Proud family, he fails to visit the Dashwood women at Barton cottage for a large part of the novel, and then is always disappearing. And yet his character is 'til the last, Honest and true to his word. It is Willoughby, Marianne's hero, and at first very nice and zealous in his love for Marianne, who betrays all, and is not who he appears.

Willoughby rescues a hurt Marianne, in the middle a storm, and carries her back to the cottage, in a very heroic way. He courts her for many weeks, and then, one day, suddenly leaves. He never proposed to M., of course, but it is still despicable, how he acted towards her. The trouble of who wrote the malicious and also fallacious letter to Marianne, ending their relationship, denying ever having loved her, and sending back all of her notes, is the one mystery left unsolved. Of course, Willoughby tells Elinor that his fiance dictated that letter, and that every word pained him, and Elinor, the almost omniscient character, believes and pities him, but Willoughby has never really given us a reason to trust him.

Colonel Brandon, who really never had a place in my heart until he gave Edward the Delaford parish, seemed to be expected to marry either of the Misses Dashwood, as though they were Interchangeable. Of course, this was not Brandon's doing, nor Austen's invention; from what I understand, this was generally the case, in the day. In Brandon, I at first felt little interest. (I now realise that the feeling of familiarity I had with regard to his story line, came from the likeness to Jane Eyre. Brandon is twice Marianne's age, as Mr. Rochester was to Jane Eyre, when they married in Charlotte Bronte's novel.) However, Brandon character is almost the best of all the beaux. He is steady, faithful, and good; in short, everything Willoughby was thought, and failed to be.

In watching Charles Davies' BBC adaptation this morning, I found myself becoming more and more allied with Brandon. He was always in the background, the one that Marianne liked but did not love. Davies always gives the men larger parts, as Austen often does not, which gave Brandon's character a chance to come out. He is a splendid writer, and I feel that it would have made Austen proud. I highly recommend the three-part series--it is at once concise and expansive in its detail, both true to the text, and novel in its voice.

As well as Emma Thompson wrote in her S&S film, as well as Ang Lee directed, and as brilliantly as Hugh Grant and Emma Thompson acted, I dare say Andrew Davies' is a bit better. It is, at least, truer to the text. Somewhat unfortunately, this gives Willoughby more screen-time, but it also leaves you wanting almost nothing. In addition, Charity Wakefield is an absolutely perfect Marianne, Lucy Boynton is a perfect Margaret and David Morrissey a perfect Colonel Brandon. A true masterpiece.

Sense and Sensibility, as with Pride and Prejudice, had a complex plot that nearly killed me towards the end, and took quite a bit of work to understand. It took watching the films several times, re-reading and reading passages again, and a long time, to figure out what happened to each story line, to each character. It only gets easier, I suppose, because I was conscious, with S&S, who I liked and why, and who I disliked, and why. It took a year, with P&P, and six months with Persuasion, to learn to love the book. With Sense and Sensibility, I now very much like it, though I can't decide if I like it better than P&P.

Of course, I read Jane Eyre and then Pride and Prejudice in sixth grade, and Persuasion in seventh. I suppose both the experience of having read three novels like this, combined with what I have learned in the last two (is it two? or three?) years, have only made it easier to appreciate S&S.

I have a list of books about Jane Austen and her time, as well as a few dozen books I've been meaning to read. My plan for this winter is to collect firewood, build fires, and read in front of the fire.

I am now again in love with Austen. I really do want to read Mansfield Park, but I think I'll let that desire fuel my reading Emma, so that I will read it quickly (no more than a few weeks), and can then have a lunch with Cruce Stark for my birthday (in April), to discuss Austen. I am looking forward to it, but I am torn between wanting to read Austen and every book about her or her life, and the stack of books I am neglecting.

Are not Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes every bit as deserving of my attentions as Emma Woodhouse? I suppose I will just have to hurry up and finish the two books of short stories by Agatha Christie and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. After that, I shall surround my self with Austen and Regency Era books, work on keeping the fire going, and my supply of firewood, marsh-mellows, and hot chocolate from running out.

An ordinary man can surround himself with two thousand books and thenceforward have at least one place in the world in which it is possible to be happy.
-Augustine Birrell