Brighton Rock by Graham Greene
A gripping mafia thriller about a teenager, Pinkie, ruthlessly rising in the ranks. He is the character that keeps you glued to the paper: revolting but fascinating, with his unnatural lack of emotion and catholic gravitas. The contrast between him and Ida, amateur detective of solid positive character, leads to a stark comparison between two opposite moral conceptions: the heavy, otherworldly notions of good vs evil against the common sense view of right vs wrong. It is an excellent illustration of how the concepts we apply to reality have the power of determining the way we act: they aren't passive descriptions but active guiding principles. Greene also produces extraordinary descriptions, resembling impressionist paintings, of the town of Brighton, focusing both on its shiny touristic face and on the seedy underworld, letting you feel the heavy, impending doom through the presence of the uncontrollable sea. Though the story is, in its details, somewhat clumsy, it is both very involving and thought-provoking.
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark
This tale of an eccentric teacher and the influence she has on her pupils throughout their lives seemed a bit frothy and shallow while I was reading it, but it has in the meantime grown on me. It is written in a deceptively simple style, which is actually very smart, precise and witty - the book is constantly putting a smile on your lips. Miss Brodie's grandiose behaviour, fetching for hr students, seems pathetic, almost demented, to the reader. The everyday nature of the scenes described makes it hard to see anything but a collection of amusing vignettes on growing up, role models, female sexuality, friendship, and power dynamics; however, once you mentally connects the dots, you can appreciate how masterfully she interweaves memories of different periods, leading to an understated reflection on the twisted effects of intense personalities on young people, and on the soft edge between truth and fancy.
Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
I thought I should get to know the Oxford stereotype before going (less than one month to go now!!), so I picked up Brideshead Revisited expecting plenty of luscious descriptions of student life as a rich aristocrat in the early 20th century. There are, in fact, plenty of those here, and I found reading about the characters' colourful, careless, sophisticated fun a very pleasant experience (like watching Gossip Girl, only far cooler, with a finer irony and an elegant writing style). However, the book is not vacuous at all: those descriptions put in stark relief the subsequent decay of the aristocracy and of their aesthetic way of life, which basically leads them to self-destruction. The social portrait here is masterful.Waugh also attempts to persuade the reader of the value of Catholicism, which leads to a rather disappointing, even preachy, ending. On the other hand, the depth the religious aspect brings to the characters' inner lives must not be undervalued: it sets them apart from others perhaps even more than money.
All in all, despite the slightly uneven details, this is a brilliant work in social satire and it manages to capture a full way of life.
A Separate Peace by John Knowles
I read A Separate Peace just after Brideshead Revisited, and the novels have striking similarities: both deal with the effects of World Wars in society, both are set in exclusive academic environments, both are centred in the (heavily homo-erotic) relationship between two young men and its lifelong consequences, both are unreliably narrated by an individual looking back to his own youth, both have a distinct feeling of melancholy for innocence lost, conveyed via an elegant writing style, and both aim to present a picture of the human condition. Knowles' view is bleak: he sees adult life as a constant war, and those who are too pure and joyful to fight are set for doom. This broad view is conveyed through the description of the close and complicated relationship of two teenage boys at boarding school: the joyful, athletic, charming Finny, and Gene, the introverted narrator who betrays him due to feeling of jealousy and - paradoxically - love. Gene is responsible for Finny's death, but his fault lies in wanting to become Finny so much. This novel illustrates, then, the poison contained in the blurring of personal identity, and how lonely we unavoidably are. This is a short but atmospheric, thought-provoking and heavily symbolic novel.
About a Boy by Nick Hornby
I love Nick Hornby: his novels are as warm, funny, unpretentious, and intelligent descriptions of modern relationships as you are likely to read. About a Boy is about the relationship between a spoilt, immature bachelor, and an eccentric twelve-year-old living with his depressed mother, and about how they change and help each other in small, but eventually very relevant, ways. The full book feels alive: the dialogues, the cultural references, the matter-of-fact tone, are all spot-on. It is also very heart-warming, the conclusion being that we can connect to each other, contribute to each others' lives, and in that way build a meaning for our lives out of small things. Life is more than the sum of its parts.
Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
I re-read Good Omens just because it makes me laugh, take flights of fantasy, and turn the pages voraciously with a sarcastic smile of incredulity on my lips. I tells the very implausible story of the Apocalypse, starring a colourful array of characters - humans, angels, demons, etcetera - and including such wonders as martians landing, Tibetans building tunnels, and 20th century witch-hunters, all in a quick succession which isn't even supposed to make sense, and narrated in a deadpan tone. This book is fun! But it is more than that: it also satirises moralises about some of the real evils of our society (most notably war, pollution, hunger) though in such an entertaining way you won't even feel bothered. What the cover says is true: Apocalypse has never been funnier.
I read A Separate Peace just after Brideshead Revisited, and the novels have striking similarities: both deal with the effects of World Wars in society, both are set in exclusive academic environments, both are centred in the (heavily homo-erotic) relationship between two young men and its lifelong consequences, both are unreliably narrated by an individual looking back to his own youth, both have a distinct feeling of melancholy for innocence lost, conveyed via an elegant writing style, and both aim to present a picture of the human condition. Knowles' view is bleak: he sees adult life as a constant war, and those who are too pure and joyful to fight are set for doom. This broad view is conveyed through the description of the close and complicated relationship of two teenage boys at boarding school: the joyful, athletic, charming Finny, and Gene, the introverted narrator who betrays him due to feeling of jealousy and - paradoxically - love. Gene is responsible for Finny's death, but his fault lies in wanting to become Finny so much. This novel illustrates, then, the poison contained in the blurring of personal identity, and how lonely we unavoidably are. This is a short but atmospheric, thought-provoking and heavily symbolic novel.
I love Nick Hornby: his novels are as warm, funny, unpretentious, and intelligent descriptions of modern relationships as you are likely to read. About a Boy is about the relationship between a spoilt, immature bachelor, and an eccentric twelve-year-old living with his depressed mother, and about how they change and help each other in small, but eventually very relevant, ways. The full book feels alive: the dialogues, the cultural references, the matter-of-fact tone, are all spot-on. It is also very heart-warming, the conclusion being that we can connect to each other, contribute to each others' lives, and in that way build a meaning for our lives out of small things. Life is more than the sum of its parts.
I re-read Good Omens just because it makes me laugh, take flights of fantasy, and turn the pages voraciously with a sarcastic smile of incredulity on my lips. I tells the very implausible story of the Apocalypse, starring a colourful array of characters - humans, angels, demons, etcetera - and including such wonders as martians landing, Tibetans building tunnels, and 20th century witch-hunters, all in a quick succession which isn't even supposed to make sense, and narrated in a deadpan tone. This book is fun! But it is more than that: it also satirises moralises about some of the real evils of our society (most notably war, pollution, hunger) though in such an entertaining way you won't even feel bothered. What the cover says is true: Apocalypse has never been funnier.
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