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oofym's reviews
120 reviews
The Village of Stepanchikovo by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Ignat Avsey
funny
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
This was fun, didn't know Dostoyevsky could be funny like that. The village of stepanchikovo was a great little story. It's very unique for Dostoyevsky aswell, yes there's the rambling dialogue and densenes that is a trademark of his works, but its also a first person comedy that's under 200 pages, which is very out of place in the author's repertoire.
The character of Foma is something else man, I never expected to see such a manic, capricious and manipulative character in a book from 160 years ago. He's definitely the star of the show.
Despite the comedy of the story there's also some interesting and more serious themes going on, there's certainly a discussion to be made on Foma's victim complex coupled with excessive pride. The power dynamics are evident, and Dostoevsky is also poking fun at pseudo-intellectuallism all throughout the story. In the end though it's a fun romp with a bunch of wacky characters all stuck together in a house.
My favourite part was when a guy got chucked out of a window to be honest.
The character of Foma is something else man, I never expected to see such a manic, capricious and manipulative character in a book from 160 years ago. He's definitely the star of the show.
Despite the comedy of the story there's also some interesting and more serious themes going on, there's certainly a discussion to be made on Foma's victim complex coupled with excessive pride. The power dynamics are evident, and Dostoevsky is also poking fun at pseudo-intellectuallism all throughout the story. In the end though it's a fun romp with a bunch of wacky characters all stuck together in a house.
My favourite part was when a guy got chucked out of a window to be honest.
Liars in Love by Richard Yates
Did not finish book. Stopped at 43%.
Did not finish book. Stopped at 43%.
Grrrrrr I'm so over men writing women. I never thought I'd dnf two books in one day due to cringe dialogue and over-the-top descriptions of young women's breasts but here we are.
It's a shame, I really liked Revolutionary road by Richard Yates, and his ability to deal with the complexities of human relationships is present in this short story collection, but his horrible piss poor writing on women is also smeared all over it like vomit.
I gave up during the short story "A compassionate leave". Yates so obviously views the female sex as some entity that only exists to have sex with you, give birth and then argue and divorce you; it's in 4/4 of the stories I read. No I will not read the other two.
The only story with any redeeming qualities was "Trying out for the race", but again even this one features an abusive mother who shags random men.
Wouldn't recommend, read Revolutionary road but don't touch this one.
It's a shame, I really liked Revolutionary road by Richard Yates, and his ability to deal with the complexities of human relationships is present in this short story collection, but his horrible piss poor writing on women is also smeared all over it like vomit.
I gave up during the short story "A compassionate leave". Yates so obviously views the female sex as some entity that only exists to have sex with you, give birth and then argue and divorce you; it's in 4/4 of the stories I read. No I will not read the other two.
The only story with any redeeming qualities was "Trying out for the race", but again even this one features an abusive mother who shags random men.
Wouldn't recommend, read Revolutionary road but don't touch this one.
The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch by Philip K. Dick
Did not finish book. Stopped at 29%.
Did not finish book. Stopped at 29%.
I think I'm just not really in the mood. There's too much mumbo jumbo and emphasis on female anatomy for my liking.
The Frolic of the Beasts by Yukio Mishima
Mishima's descriptive writing is beautiful and incredibly unique, not only when it comes to landscapes and scenery, but also when describing his characters. He uses strong and evocative metaphors as descriptions of people's appearances and actions, which gives each of the characters a very unique image.
The frolic of the beasts seems to be playing with the nature of what we hide, and what we reveal; our masks so to speak. There's an undercurrent throughout this story of the vile parts of human souls which lie buried under a mountain of justifications, social restrictions and honor; the internal hidden by the external which will occasionally rear its ugly head and wreak havoc.
In the end, guilt, desire and letting go finish off the story. There's alot of subtle emotions and investigations on human intricacies laid throughout the novella, and I believe what Mishima is trying to do here is to showcase many of the ways in which the strings of life and fate tug and pull us in certain directions.
What drives a human to act out, to commit a sin? How do you progress from that point?; repentance, forgiveness, moving on? And what about desire? Can it be forgotten, can It be hidden and imprisoned? Or must our forbidden and carnal vices eventually show themselves in one way or another?
challenging
dark
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
"Kōji was afraid of this thick, gravy-like rural night. The graphic quality of everything that lay in slumber during the day awakening all at once was so much more physical than nights in the city, and the night itself was like a colossal, intense piece of meat saturated with hot blood."
Mishima's descriptive writing is beautiful and incredibly unique, not only when it comes to landscapes and scenery, but also when describing his characters. He uses strong and evocative metaphors as descriptions of people's appearances and actions, which gives each of the characters a very unique image.
The frolic of the beasts seems to be playing with the nature of what we hide, and what we reveal; our masks so to speak. There's an undercurrent throughout this story of the vile parts of human souls which lie buried under a mountain of justifications, social restrictions and honor; the internal hidden by the external which will occasionally rear its ugly head and wreak havoc.
In the end, guilt, desire and letting go finish off the story. There's alot of subtle emotions and investigations on human intricacies laid throughout the novella, and I believe what Mishima is trying to do here is to showcase many of the ways in which the strings of life and fate tug and pull us in certain directions.
What drives a human to act out, to commit a sin? How do you progress from that point?; repentance, forgiveness, moving on? And what about desire? Can it be forgotten, can It be hidden and imprisoned? Or must our forbidden and carnal vices eventually show themselves in one way or another?
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
3.25
Walden is an interesting book, throughout my reading I took alot of notes but as the book drew to a close I felt like the author had run out of profound things to say 150 pages ago. But nevertheless here's my thoughts on the more interesting parts.
•ECONOMY•
I like the discussion on clothes, particularly on how Thoreau wishes we'd place more importantance on the practical use of them, rather than on aesthetics.
Funny how little some things change; Thoreau goes on to discuss house prices and comes to several conclusions. First; that houses are built too large and with too much unnecessary architecture and ornaments, which drives up the cost and therefore most middle class or lower citizens cannot afford to own their own homes, being forced to rent instead. Second; he argues that due to the inflated cost of these houses and the incredibly long time it takes to pay them off, that it is not really a house anymore, but rather a prison to which that human is stuck in due to the financial debt. Thoreau's solution to this problem is to find a spot in nature and build your own log cabin, which during his time was genuinely a good idea. Unfortunately this doesn't apply to the modern era, now you not only have to purchase the land, but there are many government's that don't even allow this option at all.
Depressingly, Thoreau's criticism against suburban housing has doubled in severity in the modern era, I did some calculations and it would now take a middle class worker 2-3x as long to save up for a house as it would of in Thoreau's time
(Avg daily wage in 1850-$1. Avg house price in 1850-$800) (Avg daily wage in 2024-$175-$250. Average house price in 2024-$400,000-$600,000)
Here is a fun little bit of philosophising on Thoreau's part, he wishes humankind would spend less time on constructing grandiose and impressive monuments, and instead spend just a quarter of that effort on themselves, he believes human civilisation might be better off if we worked on our "internal monuments" rather than creating exterior ones. Here's a quote: "One piece of good sense would be more memorable than a monument as high as the moon."
Thoreau ends off the economy section of the book with a really weird rant, I'm calling it a rant because it felt completely unneeded. He spends the last few pages of this section talking about...how do I put this; how poor people suck, charity is bad and beggars want to be beggars. Oof, what a 180, not what I expected at all from this guy. I suppose a reclusive isolationist from the 1850's is gonna have some pretty problematic takes here and there, just didn't expect it to be: "Aghhrr!!!! Stop helping the poor!!! Grrrrr".
•WHERE I LIVED AND WHAT I LIVED FOR•
He's gotten very spiritual all of a sudden. Thoreau begins to contemplate the sun and the morning, going as far to say that the "Dawn" is the only part of life worth living for and that all artistic aspirations and meaningful moments happen in accordance with the sun. Thoreau goes on to expand this into the belief that the period of dawn is simply the period in which we are truly aware of the sun, the morning and nature; and that to live an awakened life, to be in perpetual dawn: is to be constantly aware of the medium in which we study life through our senses.
"To affect the quality of the day, that Is the highest of arts."
There seems to be a huge emphasis on living in the "present". I really like the logic and metaphors Thoreau uses here, it's all pretty sage advice and feels very influenced by Eastern Philosophy (Which Thoreau reads) and ancient Greek philosophy, particularly stoicism.
Thoreau goes on to describe how humans have this innate desire to seek the sublime in things which are outside the boundaries of what we live in; particularly he's talking about what there is before the universe was created, what there was before we were born and what happens after death.
Thoreau mentions how we are so distracted by questions of what comes before and after, that we fail to search for the sublime, the ethereal in the present, and that this is a grave error. He argues that if something divine or transcendent does exist after death, or before the universe began; it probably isn't any more impressive or important than what we exist in now, and it certainly also exists just as strongly in our physical world. Thoreau essentially urges readers to seek spirituality and a closeness to nature in the present, in our current environment and situation, in our material world; rather than hope for it in planes of existence which are yet to be or have already passed. I love it.
•READING•
Thoreau would certainly be called a pretentious elitist today for his opinions on reading. He thinks reading is one of the most important things a human can do, he mentions how literature has much more value than many think, but he's referring to a specific type of literature: Classics and ancient texts. In his opinion the human race would be much better off if we all spent a little more time working on our literacy skills, so that we can constantly be improving the density of that which we are able to read. In his opinion someone reading what a fourth grader might be able to read for the rest of his life, is a complete waste of time, he argues the reading should be a complex, difficult and insightful experience, not one that lulls the reader into relaxation and drowsiness.
I also totally emphasise with his little whine he has about how you might be able to read the Illiad but good luck finding anyone to talk to it about.
Honestly i think Thoreau's argument that reading, (especially difficult texts)
Is important, is something I totally agree with. But I think his emphasis on wanting people to read classics and philosophy is purely because the poor guy has no reading buddies to discuss these books with, I feel ya Henry.
•Sounds•
A couple little things of note. I really enjoyed how Thoreau talks about the new steam locomotives as a sort of grand mythological beast which breathes fire and snorts out clouds. It's a fun visual picture, and I'm sure there were people at the time who found that new method of travel entirely off-putting.
Thoreau has spent a fair bit of this section not actually talking about sounds at all but he seems to be getting into it now. He mentions how very far off sounds have an almost magical and unique quality to them, comparing it to seeing a landscape at an incredibly far away distance. Then the way he goes on to describe the certain bird calls and owl hoots he hears is really vivid; comparing certain night time noises he hears to those of lamenting lost souls, wailing and crying as if "They'd wished they'd never been born." But while comparing other bird calls to the most serene and youthful sounding melodies a human could ever hear, questioning of how of our music derives from nature's music.
•SOLITUDE•
"I have, as it were, my own sun and moon and stars, and a little world all to myself."
When Thoreau starts to talk about his desire for solitude, there begins an interesting dichotomy. Although much of the point of "Walden" is to become more connected to nature, Thoreau in this section seems to place emphasis on the necessity of a certain level of disconnect to achieve a connection, which again, feels like a dichotomy that might cause some friction. I understand his point however, Thoreau is saying that to truly be a part of nature you have to be willing to realise your insignificance within it, aswell as realise how often we make the choice to let things affect us. To Thoreau, a rainstorm or a misfortune is not bad, that's a selfish point of view and in reality, its often so that these "Bad" events serve a purpose in nature. If you can realise when it is useful to disconnect from the happenings of the world, you might in turn become more of a cohesive part of it.
Thoreau makes an interesting point that humans should not be categorised as lonely by how far away they are from others, or by how often they talk to others, but instead by how healthy and whole their mental state is. Thoreau uses the comparison of a college student and a farmer; The student is most likely surrounded by others and lives in a very populated building, but can often feel incredibly alien and alone. Whereas as a farmer might spend his whole day toiling in a field by himself and yet not for one second feel lonely. Thoreau also argues that if you truly view yourself as a part of nature, then you cannot feel lonely, as the stars, the moon, the sun or the trees never feel lonely, so why should you.
•VISITORS•
I agree with Thoreau so hard throughout this section, he jumps from explaining how humans need ample distance between each other to talk properly (The original social distancing master), then on to how extravagant and convulated dinner parties are incredibly annoying and pretentious, making him want to never see that person again. Plus then talking about how during social gatherings, you can tell when it's going really well because everyone will stop caring about food and drink; as he puts it: "The waste and decay of physical life which so often needs repair, seemed miraculously retarded in such a case, and the vital vigour stood its ground."
•THE VILLAGE•
The little passage in this section about getting lost in the woods is so interesting to me as a human from the twenty-first century. Sometimes we forget that for many many years our species didn't have phones, gps, maps or street lights. The only navigation at night was to be found in the stars. When Thoreau talks about emerging from a woodland onto a dirt road and having absolutely no clue which way leads to the nearest village; I'll admit I was slightly jealous at never having experienced that feeling of being completely lost. His point on how sometimes one needs to get completely lost to truly realise the vastness of nature, and to understand how much we rely on our senses, it was a point I'm envious I haven't experienced.
"Not till we are completely lost or turned around - do we appreciate the vastness and strangeness of nature. Not till we are lost, in other words not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realise where we are and the infinite extent of our relations."
•THE PONDS•
Maybe I need to go fishing?
This section of the book is a bit boring I'll admit, although there's some beautiful description of nature (The way Thoreau compares a lake to a human eye being the biggest standout), overall it's a slog, I don't need to know every single detail of this lake sir.
"How can you expect the birds to sing when their groves are cut down?"
•BAKER FARM•
I'm stealing "Cone-headed infant" as a description.
Thoreau comes across as such an ignorant douche in this section, he does his absolute best to showcase to the reader how he doesn't understand the poverty cycle at all.
He comes across this family at a place called "Baker Farm" who very politely allow him to shelter in their house and wait out a storm. Thoreau takes this opportunity to annoy them with his preachiness. He starts by telling the man all about how he shouldn't eat meat, milk or butter and that's why he's poor. He then explains that the man should wear cheaper clothes (even though Thoreau admits the clothes probably wouldn't suit the type of work the man does), and then finally tells the man to just fish all day and then buy a house; all while ignoring the fact that the man has two children and a wife to support and has rent to pay. Henry David Thoreau; the original anachronistic boomer.
•HIGHER LAWS•
"No humane being, past the thoughtless age of boyhood, will wantonly murder any creature which holds its life by the same tenure that he does."
Some interesting juxtaposing thoughts in this section. Firstly, there's Thoreau talking about how he simultaneously loves his higher, more educated and spiritual side of himself, while also loving his primitive and more animalistic compulsions. Its a unique position to hold; to recognise your conflicting nature and internal contradictions and yet to be content with it.
Secondly, Thoreau seems to be quite split on the idea of hunting. On one hand he says it's incredibly necessary to any young man's natural education, while on the otherhand lamenting the unnecessary loss of life and cruelty in killing living things.
I genuinely enjoy Thoreau's stand on how important it is to treat your body the right way, to abstain from too many indulgences and constantly seek to improve your "spirit"
Maybe I'm just a boring prude, but yeah pleasure for the sake of pleasure isn't always the best thing.
"Every man is the builder of a temple called his body, to the God he worships, after a style purely his own. We are all sculptors and painters, and our material is our own flesh and blood and bones."
•BRUTE NEIGHBOURS•
Thoreau decides to spend 5 pages describing ant warfare.
•END THOUGHTS•
So, gonna be honest, this book started to bore me alot. Although Thoreau had some really interesting things to say in the first half, I feel like the further the book went on the more he's just mindlessly rambling; A professional yapper you might say. Alot of the end half of Walden is spent describing nature , animals and his neighbours in excruciatingly excessive detail, putting me to sleep before I can get through a few pages.
But, one saving grace to this Is the conclusion, the conclusion is excellent, it sums up everything Thoreau is trying to say in a brief and understandable manner. I honestly wish the whole book was more like the conclusion, or that the conclusion simply was the book. If I met anyone interested in reading Walden, I'd tell them to just read this section.
I'd give the first half of this book a 4 and the end half a 2 and the conclusion a 5. So I guess this gets a 3.25
•ECONOMY•
I like the discussion on clothes, particularly on how Thoreau wishes we'd place more importantance on the practical use of them, rather than on aesthetics.
Funny how little some things change; Thoreau goes on to discuss house prices and comes to several conclusions. First; that houses are built too large and with too much unnecessary architecture and ornaments, which drives up the cost and therefore most middle class or lower citizens cannot afford to own their own homes, being forced to rent instead. Second; he argues that due to the inflated cost of these houses and the incredibly long time it takes to pay them off, that it is not really a house anymore, but rather a prison to which that human is stuck in due to the financial debt. Thoreau's solution to this problem is to find a spot in nature and build your own log cabin, which during his time was genuinely a good idea. Unfortunately this doesn't apply to the modern era, now you not only have to purchase the land, but there are many government's that don't even allow this option at all.
Depressingly, Thoreau's criticism against suburban housing has doubled in severity in the modern era, I did some calculations and it would now take a middle class worker 2-3x as long to save up for a house as it would of in Thoreau's time
(Avg daily wage in 1850-$1. Avg house price in 1850-$800) (Avg daily wage in 2024-$175-$250. Average house price in 2024-$400,000-$600,000)
Here is a fun little bit of philosophising on Thoreau's part, he wishes humankind would spend less time on constructing grandiose and impressive monuments, and instead spend just a quarter of that effort on themselves, he believes human civilisation might be better off if we worked on our "internal monuments" rather than creating exterior ones. Here's a quote: "One piece of good sense would be more memorable than a monument as high as the moon."
Thoreau ends off the economy section of the book with a really weird rant, I'm calling it a rant because it felt completely unneeded. He spends the last few pages of this section talking about...how do I put this; how poor people suck, charity is bad and beggars want to be beggars. Oof, what a 180, not what I expected at all from this guy. I suppose a reclusive isolationist from the 1850's is gonna have some pretty problematic takes here and there, just didn't expect it to be: "Aghhrr!!!! Stop helping the poor!!! Grrrrr".
•WHERE I LIVED AND WHAT I LIVED FOR•
He's gotten very spiritual all of a sudden. Thoreau begins to contemplate the sun and the morning, going as far to say that the "Dawn" is the only part of life worth living for and that all artistic aspirations and meaningful moments happen in accordance with the sun. Thoreau goes on to expand this into the belief that the period of dawn is simply the period in which we are truly aware of the sun, the morning and nature; and that to live an awakened life, to be in perpetual dawn: is to be constantly aware of the medium in which we study life through our senses.
"To affect the quality of the day, that Is the highest of arts."
There seems to be a huge emphasis on living in the "present". I really like the logic and metaphors Thoreau uses here, it's all pretty sage advice and feels very influenced by Eastern Philosophy (Which Thoreau reads) and ancient Greek philosophy, particularly stoicism.
Thoreau goes on to describe how humans have this innate desire to seek the sublime in things which are outside the boundaries of what we live in; particularly he's talking about what there is before the universe was created, what there was before we were born and what happens after death.
Thoreau mentions how we are so distracted by questions of what comes before and after, that we fail to search for the sublime, the ethereal in the present, and that this is a grave error. He argues that if something divine or transcendent does exist after death, or before the universe began; it probably isn't any more impressive or important than what we exist in now, and it certainly also exists just as strongly in our physical world. Thoreau essentially urges readers to seek spirituality and a closeness to nature in the present, in our current environment and situation, in our material world; rather than hope for it in planes of existence which are yet to be or have already passed. I love it.
•READING•
Thoreau would certainly be called a pretentious elitist today for his opinions on reading. He thinks reading is one of the most important things a human can do, he mentions how literature has much more value than many think, but he's referring to a specific type of literature: Classics and ancient texts. In his opinion the human race would be much better off if we all spent a little more time working on our literacy skills, so that we can constantly be improving the density of that which we are able to read. In his opinion someone reading what a fourth grader might be able to read for the rest of his life, is a complete waste of time, he argues the reading should be a complex, difficult and insightful experience, not one that lulls the reader into relaxation and drowsiness.
I also totally emphasise with his little whine he has about how you might be able to read the Illiad but good luck finding anyone to talk to it about.
Honestly i think Thoreau's argument that reading, (especially difficult texts)
Is important, is something I totally agree with. But I think his emphasis on wanting people to read classics and philosophy is purely because the poor guy has no reading buddies to discuss these books with, I feel ya Henry.
•Sounds•
A couple little things of note. I really enjoyed how Thoreau talks about the new steam locomotives as a sort of grand mythological beast which breathes fire and snorts out clouds. It's a fun visual picture, and I'm sure there were people at the time who found that new method of travel entirely off-putting.
Thoreau has spent a fair bit of this section not actually talking about sounds at all but he seems to be getting into it now. He mentions how very far off sounds have an almost magical and unique quality to them, comparing it to seeing a landscape at an incredibly far away distance. Then the way he goes on to describe the certain bird calls and owl hoots he hears is really vivid; comparing certain night time noises he hears to those of lamenting lost souls, wailing and crying as if "They'd wished they'd never been born." But while comparing other bird calls to the most serene and youthful sounding melodies a human could ever hear, questioning of how of our music derives from nature's music.
•SOLITUDE•
"I have, as it were, my own sun and moon and stars, and a little world all to myself."
When Thoreau starts to talk about his desire for solitude, there begins an interesting dichotomy. Although much of the point of "Walden" is to become more connected to nature, Thoreau in this section seems to place emphasis on the necessity of a certain level of disconnect to achieve a connection, which again, feels like a dichotomy that might cause some friction. I understand his point however, Thoreau is saying that to truly be a part of nature you have to be willing to realise your insignificance within it, aswell as realise how often we make the choice to let things affect us. To Thoreau, a rainstorm or a misfortune is not bad, that's a selfish point of view and in reality, its often so that these "Bad" events serve a purpose in nature. If you can realise when it is useful to disconnect from the happenings of the world, you might in turn become more of a cohesive part of it.
Thoreau makes an interesting point that humans should not be categorised as lonely by how far away they are from others, or by how often they talk to others, but instead by how healthy and whole their mental state is. Thoreau uses the comparison of a college student and a farmer; The student is most likely surrounded by others and lives in a very populated building, but can often feel incredibly alien and alone. Whereas as a farmer might spend his whole day toiling in a field by himself and yet not for one second feel lonely. Thoreau also argues that if you truly view yourself as a part of nature, then you cannot feel lonely, as the stars, the moon, the sun or the trees never feel lonely, so why should you.
•VISITORS•
I agree with Thoreau so hard throughout this section, he jumps from explaining how humans need ample distance between each other to talk properly (The original social distancing master), then on to how extravagant and convulated dinner parties are incredibly annoying and pretentious, making him want to never see that person again. Plus then talking about how during social gatherings, you can tell when it's going really well because everyone will stop caring about food and drink; as he puts it: "The waste and decay of physical life which so often needs repair, seemed miraculously retarded in such a case, and the vital vigour stood its ground."
•THE VILLAGE•
The little passage in this section about getting lost in the woods is so interesting to me as a human from the twenty-first century. Sometimes we forget that for many many years our species didn't have phones, gps, maps or street lights. The only navigation at night was to be found in the stars. When Thoreau talks about emerging from a woodland onto a dirt road and having absolutely no clue which way leads to the nearest village; I'll admit I was slightly jealous at never having experienced that feeling of being completely lost. His point on how sometimes one needs to get completely lost to truly realise the vastness of nature, and to understand how much we rely on our senses, it was a point I'm envious I haven't experienced.
"Not till we are completely lost or turned around - do we appreciate the vastness and strangeness of nature. Not till we are lost, in other words not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realise where we are and the infinite extent of our relations."
•THE PONDS•
Maybe I need to go fishing?
This section of the book is a bit boring I'll admit, although there's some beautiful description of nature (The way Thoreau compares a lake to a human eye being the biggest standout), overall it's a slog, I don't need to know every single detail of this lake sir.
"How can you expect the birds to sing when their groves are cut down?"
•BAKER FARM•
I'm stealing "Cone-headed infant" as a description.
Thoreau comes across as such an ignorant douche in this section, he does his absolute best to showcase to the reader how he doesn't understand the poverty cycle at all.
He comes across this family at a place called "Baker Farm" who very politely allow him to shelter in their house and wait out a storm. Thoreau takes this opportunity to annoy them with his preachiness. He starts by telling the man all about how he shouldn't eat meat, milk or butter and that's why he's poor. He then explains that the man should wear cheaper clothes (even though Thoreau admits the clothes probably wouldn't suit the type of work the man does), and then finally tells the man to just fish all day and then buy a house; all while ignoring the fact that the man has two children and a wife to support and has rent to pay. Henry David Thoreau; the original anachronistic boomer.
•HIGHER LAWS•
"No humane being, past the thoughtless age of boyhood, will wantonly murder any creature which holds its life by the same tenure that he does."
Some interesting juxtaposing thoughts in this section. Firstly, there's Thoreau talking about how he simultaneously loves his higher, more educated and spiritual side of himself, while also loving his primitive and more animalistic compulsions. Its a unique position to hold; to recognise your conflicting nature and internal contradictions and yet to be content with it.
Secondly, Thoreau seems to be quite split on the idea of hunting. On one hand he says it's incredibly necessary to any young man's natural education, while on the otherhand lamenting the unnecessary loss of life and cruelty in killing living things.
I genuinely enjoy Thoreau's stand on how important it is to treat your body the right way, to abstain from too many indulgences and constantly seek to improve your "spirit"
Maybe I'm just a boring prude, but yeah pleasure for the sake of pleasure isn't always the best thing.
"Every man is the builder of a temple called his body, to the God he worships, after a style purely his own. We are all sculptors and painters, and our material is our own flesh and blood and bones."
•BRUTE NEIGHBOURS•
Thoreau decides to spend 5 pages describing ant warfare.
•END THOUGHTS•
So, gonna be honest, this book started to bore me alot. Although Thoreau had some really interesting things to say in the first half, I feel like the further the book went on the more he's just mindlessly rambling; A professional yapper you might say. Alot of the end half of Walden is spent describing nature , animals and his neighbours in excruciatingly excessive detail, putting me to sleep before I can get through a few pages.
But, one saving grace to this Is the conclusion, the conclusion is excellent, it sums up everything Thoreau is trying to say in a brief and understandable manner. I honestly wish the whole book was more like the conclusion, or that the conclusion simply was the book. If I met anyone interested in reading Walden, I'd tell them to just read this section.
I'd give the first half of this book a 4 and the end half a 2 and the conclusion a 5. So I guess this gets a 3.25
Wind/ Pinball: Two Novels by Haruki Murakami
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.25
Eh.
I thought they were alright, it was nice to see the beginnings of such a prolific author before he really developed his style, but it also made me question if he has even developed much.
Whether Murakami is 29 or 70, he's writing about apathetic men who chain-smoke and drink coffee while thinking about some breasts. So yes even back in his earliest works, Murakami still has his weird sex related writing quirks.
On a positive note these were a super cozy and easy read, like eating ramen on a cold night or something like that. The stories are low stakes, mundane and semi-dreamlike, which make them very digestible although not very exciting or interesting. Like others have said, the best part of this book was the foreword by Murakami, which has made me interested in reading some of his non-fiction.
It was less perverted than Norwegian wood at least.
I thought they were alright, it was nice to see the beginnings of such a prolific author before he really developed his style, but it also made me question if he has even developed much.
Whether Murakami is 29 or 70, he's writing about apathetic men who chain-smoke and drink coffee while thinking about some breasts. So yes even back in his earliest works, Murakami still has his weird sex related writing quirks.
On a positive note these were a super cozy and easy read, like eating ramen on a cold night or something like that. The stories are low stakes, mundane and semi-dreamlike, which make them very digestible although not very exciting or interesting. Like others have said, the best part of this book was the foreword by Murakami, which has made me interested in reading some of his non-fiction.
It was less perverted than Norwegian wood at least.
The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai
I'm incredibly tempted to attach the next half a page of that quote, because Dazai's writing really shines in it. But I'm trying to prevent myself from making this review too long-winded.
The way Kazuko and her brother relentlessly try to find solutions to their problems is so heartbreaking, you can literally see these characters being slowly killed by their own malaise, or as the French might call it "Ennui".
Kazuko's attempt to find her own personal revolution and method of change is simultaneously so poetic and erratic. She decides she must have a child, and through that desire she falls in love with really the only man she knows besides her brother. But well, he's already married.
Falling in love with someone else, but life's circumstances preventing it, or even being simply just too late. It's a thought I hate to realise even exists.
Kazuko's downward trajectory throughout the story ripped me up, you can tell she's a good woman, but the influence of the world around her is slowly corrupting her, and by the end of the story she has pushed aside the man's wife with brute force, she's realised revolution requires someone being hurt. But this isn't a fun revolution, it's not an action packed journey. There's a peculiar air of stolidness to her crisis, a melancholy to her spiral. As her brother puts it:
dark
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
Was it a good idea to read two Osamu Dazai books back to back? No and yes. Did I enjoy my time with them? No and yes.
That really sums up my feelings on Dazai as an author. I love his prose, the flow of his writing and his ability to put on paper concepts I've struggled to articulate; its engrossing and impressive. But the way he's able to write about alienation, suffering and depression is almost too good. It gets me in a mood that I'm not that fond of, and by the end of his stories I'm telling myself to never pick up anything else by him purely for my own mental health. I suppose Dazai is to men what Sylvia Plath is to women. Although really, I think suffering crosses most gender distinctions, its a universal language.
But on to the actual story of "The setting sun". This is a story about change, revolution and finding a place for yourself in a world that doesn't seem to want you.
The narrative is set in post war Japan, the aristocracy has fallen, culture is changing at a breakneck speed and our protagonist Kazuko is trying to find some sort of meaning in her life, all the while everything around her is collapsing. Her family is broken and in disarray; Her father is dead, her mother has fallen ill, her family home has been sold off, her brother is intent on self-destruction and she herself has had a stillborn birth and lacks a partner or friends. Wow so fun!
This struggle, to find a place in a changing world is the epitome of "The setting sun."
That really sums up my feelings on Dazai as an author. I love his prose, the flow of his writing and his ability to put on paper concepts I've struggled to articulate; its engrossing and impressive. But the way he's able to write about alienation, suffering and depression is almost too good. It gets me in a mood that I'm not that fond of, and by the end of his stories I'm telling myself to never pick up anything else by him purely for my own mental health. I suppose Dazai is to men what Sylvia Plath is to women. Although really, I think suffering crosses most gender distinctions, its a universal language.
But on to the actual story of "The setting sun". This is a story about change, revolution and finding a place for yourself in a world that doesn't seem to want you.
The narrative is set in post war Japan, the aristocracy has fallen, culture is changing at a breakneck speed and our protagonist Kazuko is trying to find some sort of meaning in her life, all the while everything around her is collapsing. Her family is broken and in disarray; Her father is dead, her mother has fallen ill, her family home has been sold off, her brother is intent on self-destruction and she herself has had a stillborn birth and lacks a partner or friends. Wow so fun!
This struggle, to find a place in a changing world is the epitome of "The setting sun."
"Victims, Victims of a transitional period...That is what we both certainly are."
I'm incredibly tempted to attach the next half a page of that quote, because Dazai's writing really shines in it. But I'm trying to prevent myself from making this review too long-winded.
The way Kazuko and her brother relentlessly try to find solutions to their problems is so heartbreaking, you can literally see these characters being slowly killed by their own malaise, or as the French might call it "Ennui".
Kazuko's attempt to find her own personal revolution and method of change is simultaneously so poetic and erratic. She decides she must have a child, and through that desire she falls in love with really the only man she knows besides her brother. But well, he's already married.
"Perhaps if I had met you long, long ago, when you and I were both still single, we might have married, and I should have been spared my present sufferings, but I have resigned myself to the fact that I shall never be able to marry you. For me to attempt to push aside your wife would be like an act of brute force and I would hate myself for it."
Falling in love with someone else, but life's circumstances preventing it, or even being simply just too late. It's a thought I hate to realise even exists.
Kazuko's downward trajectory throughout the story ripped me up, you can tell she's a good woman, but the influence of the world around her is slowly corrupting her, and by the end of the story she has pushed aside the man's wife with brute force, she's realised revolution requires someone being hurt. But this isn't a fun revolution, it's not an action packed journey. There's a peculiar air of stolidness to her crisis, a melancholy to her spiral. As her brother puts it:
"I have a poison that kills without pain."
Or as she herself says:
"To be alive. An intolerably immense undertaking before which one can only gasp in apprehension."
In the end, the world destroys Kazuko, so she tries to destroy something in return, in the hope that destruction begets life.
If No longer human was a visceral cry for help; an exhaustive scream at the world. Then The setting sun is more like a quiet whimper, and i feel that sometimes there's more artistry in a whimper than in a scream.
If No longer human was a visceral cry for help; an exhaustive scream at the world. Then The setting sun is more like a quiet whimper, and i feel that sometimes there's more artistry in a whimper than in a scream.
Schoolgirl by Osamu Dazai
I don't know, it just kind of hit me how sad it is to be the sort of book worm that I am, a head constantly buried in pages to escape everything else around them. And then when I am forced to face the real world, I'm just a culmination; a paper mache of ideas, thoughts and characters I've pilfered from books. How much of me is the real me? And how much is just a poorly constructed amalgamation of things that aren't original or my own.
I really just want to help the narrator of this story, and I think that's because I'm constantly reminded of a younger me. Everything she says is filled with self-loathing, anxiety, spite and confusion at the world around her. There's this constant need she feels to construct an image of herself that's presentable, that isn't goofy or silly or prone to outbursts, but in the end she's only a teenage girl and she will inevitably do something that isn't seen as smart or serious, and then this creates this constant battle between how you think and how you act, you might want to appear educated, refined and well put together, but something in your instincts pulls you in a different direction; leads you down a path you didn't want to go down - only for you to critisise yourself later that night and then repeat the process the next day. This is obviously Dazai inserting himself into the story here, as far as I've gathered in his real life he presented himself as a total class clown, a funny and silly person that was always happy to be the butt of a joke. But in his private life and in his writing he was insurmountably depressed and loathed every action he'd ever made. Eventually leading to his own suicide.
It's rough, I need stop inserting myself into every story I read but I really do relate to him in that regard. Dostoyevsky said "Being overly conscious is a sickness, a real disease" and I couldn't agree more. I mean jeez I don't know what repressed emotions this story brought out of me but at this point I'm just venting for my own sake. I still struggle so much with resenting most things I do. I'll go to work, have a good day, and then come home and regret everything I said and did. I'll feel the need to punish myself for jokes I made, or want to escape into some ethereal other world simply because I had an awkward interaction 10 hours ago. I'll go out with friends and then never want to see them again because in my opinion I was "too stupid", "too silly". Hell I'll send a text and then get woken up at midnight because my sub conscious has decided I must have said something wrong in it. I have this constant fear of annoying others, of being observed or thought about. It's hard sometimes.
There's a big section at the end of this story which was like a punch in the gut to me, it sort of hurt to even hear it. It made me think of those teenage years where I was so so deadset on taking my own life, and i think the way Dazai puts it in this story was really something.
The story ends very shortly after this section, to say it left a bitter taste in my mouth would be an understatement, I think this ruined my day.
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
What a bummer; in a good way. This was a neurotic read.
I rarely listen to audio books but this was a special occasion, I'm about half way through 'The setting sun' by Osamu Dazai but I needed to go do other stuff, Dazai's writing however was so engrossing and had me in such a particular state of mind that I decided to listen to another of his stories while I was up and about. I'm glad I did, 'School girl' felt like the Japanese adolescent's equivalent of 'Notes from the underground'.
I hate myself for being able to relate so much to certain parts of the narrative, I can safely say that if I'd read this story a couple years ago it wouldn't of been good for my already crumbling mental state. I'm glad I got to read it at my current age, now that I'm alot more stable and less prone to self-criticism, although not really.
I rarely listen to audio books but this was a special occasion, I'm about half way through 'The setting sun' by Osamu Dazai but I needed to go do other stuff, Dazai's writing however was so engrossing and had me in such a particular state of mind that I decided to listen to another of his stories while I was up and about. I'm glad I did, 'School girl' felt like the Japanese adolescent's equivalent of 'Notes from the underground'.
I hate myself for being able to relate so much to certain parts of the narrative, I can safely say that if I'd read this story a couple years ago it wouldn't of been good for my already crumbling mental state. I'm glad I got to read it at my current age, now that I'm alot more stable and less prone to self-criticism, although not really.
There was a passage in this story however that really really got me, I think it made me realise a bit that even to this day I'm still escaping something, I'm still a daydreamer who lives in my own fictional mental construct 90% of the time. It was when the narrator begins to talk about books:
"I had a strange thought. Given my lack of experience, if my books were taken away from me, I would be utterly devastated. That's how much I depend on what's written in books. I'll read one book and be completely wild about it—I'll trust it, I'll assimilate it, I'll sympathize with it, I'll try to make it a part of my life. Then, I'll read another book and, instantly, I'll switch over to that one. The sly ability to steal someone else's experience and recreate it as if it were my own is the only real talent I possess. Really, though, my guile is so bogus as to be offensive. If I were to experience failure upon failure day after day— nothing but total embarrassment—then perhaps I'd develop some semblance of dignity as a result. But no, I would somehow illogically twist even such failures, gloss over them smoothly, so that it would seem like they had a perfectly good theory behind them. And I would have no qualms about putting on a desperate show to do so. (I'm sure I've even read these same words before in some book.) Really, I don't know which is the true me. What ever will I do when there aren't any more books to read, or when I can't find another role model to imitate? Probably just wither away, helpless and sniveling profusely".
I don't know, it just kind of hit me how sad it is to be the sort of book worm that I am, a head constantly buried in pages to escape everything else around them. And then when I am forced to face the real world, I'm just a culmination; a paper mache of ideas, thoughts and characters I've pilfered from books. How much of me is the real me? And how much is just a poorly constructed amalgamation of things that aren't original or my own.
I really just want to help the narrator of this story, and I think that's because I'm constantly reminded of a younger me. Everything she says is filled with self-loathing, anxiety, spite and confusion at the world around her. There's this constant need she feels to construct an image of herself that's presentable, that isn't goofy or silly or prone to outbursts, but in the end she's only a teenage girl and she will inevitably do something that isn't seen as smart or serious, and then this creates this constant battle between how you think and how you act, you might want to appear educated, refined and well put together, but something in your instincts pulls you in a different direction; leads you down a path you didn't want to go down - only for you to critisise yourself later that night and then repeat the process the next day. This is obviously Dazai inserting himself into the story here, as far as I've gathered in his real life he presented himself as a total class clown, a funny and silly person that was always happy to be the butt of a joke. But in his private life and in his writing he was insurmountably depressed and loathed every action he'd ever made. Eventually leading to his own suicide.
It's rough, I need stop inserting myself into every story I read but I really do relate to him in that regard. Dostoyevsky said "Being overly conscious is a sickness, a real disease" and I couldn't agree more. I mean jeez I don't know what repressed emotions this story brought out of me but at this point I'm just venting for my own sake. I still struggle so much with resenting most things I do. I'll go to work, have a good day, and then come home and regret everything I said and did. I'll feel the need to punish myself for jokes I made, or want to escape into some ethereal other world simply because I had an awkward interaction 10 hours ago. I'll go out with friends and then never want to see them again because in my opinion I was "too stupid", "too silly". Hell I'll send a text and then get woken up at midnight because my sub conscious has decided I must have said something wrong in it. I have this constant fear of annoying others, of being observed or thought about. It's hard sometimes.
There's a big section at the end of this story which was like a punch in the gut to me, it sort of hurt to even hear it. It made me think of those teenage years where I was so so deadset on taking my own life, and i think the way Dazai puts it in this story was really something.
"Nobody in the world understood our suffering. In time, when we became adults, we might look back on this pain and loneliness as a funny thing, perfectly ordinary, but—but how were we expected to get by, to get through this interminable period of time until that point when we were adults? There was no one to teach us how. Was there nothing to do but leave us alone, like we had the measles? But people died from the measles, or went blind. You couldn't just leave them alone. Some of us, in our daily depressions and rages, were apt to stray, to become corrupted, irreparably so, and then our lives would be forever in disorder. There were even some who would resolve to kill themselves. And when that happened, everyone would say, Oh, if only she had lived a little longer she would have known, if she were a little more grown up she would have figured it out. How saddened they would all be. But if those people were to think about it from our perspective, and see how we had tried to endure despite how terribly painful it all was, and how we had even tried to listen carefully, as hard as we could, to what the world might have to say, they would see that, in the end, the same bland lessons were always being repeated over and over, you know, well, merely to appease us. And they would see how we always experienced the same embarrassment of being ignored. It's not as though we only care about the present. If you were to point to a faraway mountain and say, If you can make it there, it's a pretty good view, I'd see that there's not an ounce of untruth to what you tell us. But when you say, Well, bear with it just a little longer, if you can make it to the top of that mountain, you'll have done it, you are ignoring the fact that we are suffering from a terrible stomach-ache right now. Surely one of you is mistaken to let us go on this way. You're the one who is to blame.....
Sometimes happiness arrives one night too late. The thought occurred to me as I lay there. You wait and wait for happiness, and when finally you can't bear it any longer, you rush out of the house, only to hear later that a marvelous happiness arrived the following day at the home you had abandoned, and now it was too late. Sometimes happiness arrives one night too late. Happiness..."
The story ends very shortly after this section, to say it left a bitter taste in my mouth would be an understatement, I think this ruined my day.
The Willows by Algernon Blackwood
tense
medium-paced
3.25
I liked this, it was meh for the first half but really ramped up as the end approached. Consider my timbers shivered.
Also I love how the narrator is completely unsettled pretty much immediately. Had me picturing him as Patrick Star pissing his little pants.
"These trees man... they're just standing there...menacingly"
🙈😵💫
Also I love how the narrator is completely unsettled pretty much immediately. Had me picturing him as Patrick Star pissing his little pants.
"These trees man... they're just standing there...menacingly"
🙈😵💫
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick
I loved this book, I blasted through it and on a technical level I loved the prose and overall writing style(Apart from the slight obsession with breasts). I'll certainly be reading more from the author in the future.
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
Whooooweee, where do I even start with this one?
What does it mean to be "Human"?
I suppose this is the question 'Do android's dream of electric sheep' is asking; and attempting to answer. Is it suffering? Is it having hopes and dreams? Trying to decide between right and wrong? Or might it be Empathy? The novel plays around with all of these ideas but in the end seems to decide on empathy being the most fundamental part of the human experience. In a way i have to agree, Suffering can be experienced by many creatures, right and wrong is always arbitrary, hopes and dreams...well what do you define as "Hope" or a "Dream"; is a dog who wants to be fed hoping?
But empathy, empathy is something different, something human. This then raises a very interesting moral question which the story certainly touches on; is a human who can't feel empathy even a "proper" human?
Psychopaths, sociopaths; are they closer to lions and tigers than to their fellow humans? What should we do with them if that's the case?
I think in the end that's what the Android vs Human dynamic serves to showcase. It begs you to ask the question: What is a human? And then it asks you to decide what you should do with your conclusion. Truly though, what right do we have to decide anything, how can we really know what is "True" or "Real"? As the story points out, every human is artificial to some extent.
What does it mean to be "Human"?
I suppose this is the question 'Do android's dream of electric sheep' is asking; and attempting to answer. Is it suffering? Is it having hopes and dreams? Trying to decide between right and wrong? Or might it be Empathy? The novel plays around with all of these ideas but in the end seems to decide on empathy being the most fundamental part of the human experience. In a way i have to agree, Suffering can be experienced by many creatures, right and wrong is always arbitrary, hopes and dreams...well what do you define as "Hope" or a "Dream"; is a dog who wants to be fed hoping?
But empathy, empathy is something different, something human. This then raises a very interesting moral question which the story certainly touches on; is a human who can't feel empathy even a "proper" human?
Psychopaths, sociopaths; are they closer to lions and tigers than to their fellow humans? What should we do with them if that's the case?
I think in the end that's what the Android vs Human dynamic serves to showcase. It begs you to ask the question: What is a human? And then it asks you to decide what you should do with your conclusion. Truly though, what right do we have to decide anything, how can we really know what is "True" or "Real"? As the story points out, every human is artificial to some extent.
"It is the basic condition of life, to be required to violate your own identity."
I loved this book, I blasted through it and on a technical level I loved the prose and overall writing style(Apart from the slight obsession with breasts). I'll certainly be reading more from the author in the future.