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kaiju_krispies's review against another edition
Ah, this one feels a little embarrassing. This is regarded as one of the best books published within my lifetime. I'm a capable reader. I did not enjoy it, and I did not finish it.
I started reading it for a reading group and gratefully put it down when the deadline passed. The whole experience was one of challenge; there was not a time when I looked forward to returning to reading, only grim determination to make it a little farther. The prose is elegant and innovative, the characters are nuanced, the subject matter is rich. It simply wasn't enjoyable for me; I learned a little, but the final impression was that the book is meant to make you feel as Rushdie, and other immigrants, must often feel; rudderless and impotent, torn between opposing monstrous forces, either condemned or deified by those in power for no clear reason and with the knowledge that at any moment it might all be swept away. Now live this existence for another 1000 pages.
What the book does well is to provide deep questions to wonder over. What is the purpose of a book, or of art at all? What is the responsibility of a storyteller or his editor to the world? At least 38 people are dead because of The Satanic Verses--was it worth it? How far am I willing to go to uphold free speech and the right of artists to provoke? And ultimately, what is the purpose of that provocation, or to tell any story at all; has the needle moved on anything in response to this book's publication, for better or for worse, or is it even fair to ask a story to have a purpose beyond the author wanting to speak their version of the truth? I wonder how many people talk of this book in a world where it was regarded only with cold disdain and not righteous violence. I'll think on it more, but I do not think I will ever return to it.
I started reading it for a reading group and gratefully put it down when the deadline passed. The whole experience was one of challenge; there was not a time when I looked forward to returning to reading, only grim determination to make it a little farther. The prose is elegant and innovative, the characters are nuanced, the subject matter is rich. It simply wasn't enjoyable for me; I learned a little, but the final impression was that the book is meant to make you feel as Rushdie, and other immigrants, must often feel; rudderless and impotent, torn between opposing monstrous forces, either condemned or deified by those in power for no clear reason and with the knowledge that at any moment it might all be swept away. Now live this existence for another 1000 pages.
What the book does well is to provide deep questions to wonder over. What is the purpose of a book, or of art at all? What is the responsibility of a storyteller or his editor to the world? At least 38 people are dead because of The Satanic Verses--was it worth it? How far am I willing to go to uphold free speech and the right of artists to provoke? And ultimately, what is the purpose of that provocation, or to tell any story at all; has the needle moved on anything in response to this book's publication, for better or for worse, or is it even fair to ask a story to have a purpose beyond the author wanting to speak their version of the truth? I wonder how many people talk of this book in a world where it was regarded only with cold disdain and not righteous violence. I'll think on it more, but I do not think I will ever return to it.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Mental illness, Violence, Forced institutionalization, Xenophobia, Police brutality, and Schizophrenia/Psychosis
Moderate: Body horror, Sexism, and Vomit
lanid's review against another edition
challenging
dark
reflective
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
Content Warnings
Moderate: Adult/minor relationship, Body horror, Body shaming, Cancer, Death, Gore, Hate crime, Infidelity, Mental illness, Physical abuse, Racism, Suicide, Torture, Excrement, Police brutality, Antisemitism, Religious bigotry, and Schizophrenia/Psychosis