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A review by karieh13
All is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost by Lan Samantha Chang
3.0
Going into this book, I thought that the main character would be Miranda, the elusive teacher whose attention is desired by all of her students. On the back of my copy of “All is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost” – she is described as charismatic and mysterious. That and the fact that the book is about modern day poets intrigued me.
Interestingly, though, I finished the book thinking nothing about Miranda and having experienced very little poetry.
Roman, the main character, dominates the book, as well of most of the relationships in his life. His complicated relationship with his teacher, Miranda, his relationships with the other poetry students, his friendship with Bernard…all are overpoweringly focused on Roman. Even what remains of his family depends solely on him.
“He understood now, viscerally, something he had only suspected as a child: that he was his family’s aftermath. The most urgent betrayals, the great conflagration that had destroyed his family: all of it had taken place before he could remember, and the last traces were now burning out in the lightning synapses of Emily’s winter dreams.”
The problem with the book being so Roman focused is that he is a character that is so closed off – so inaccessible to the reader (at least this reader) that there is very little passion or fire to this book. I spent the first 1/8 of the book learning about the characters and then the remaining part of the book feeling as if the action taking place was all anti-climatic…with little idea what the climactic event might have been.
The women characters tell Roman at various times in his life that his poetry is guarded in such a way…that “there’s something hidden about the poems. They draw attention and give nothing back.”
It was also interesting that in a story about poets…there is very little poetry. Either actual poetry or poetic prose. There is some, which is lovely and whet the reader’s appetite for more:
“For a moment, he stood sniffing the winter air, the mixture of burning firewood and cold, which had spoken to him since childhood of other people’s easy lives.”
I did like the book…I suppose the problem is that I expected to love it. I expected to have words to savor and emotive ideas to try and wrap my head around. But most of that seemed trapped…somewhere. Actually, my feelings about the book are best summed up – by the main character of the book himself.
“Something he had been waiting for, some powerful transcendence for which he had held his breath, would not take place.”
Interestingly, though, I finished the book thinking nothing about Miranda and having experienced very little poetry.
Roman, the main character, dominates the book, as well of most of the relationships in his life. His complicated relationship with his teacher, Miranda, his relationships with the other poetry students, his friendship with Bernard…all are overpoweringly focused on Roman. Even what remains of his family depends solely on him.
“He understood now, viscerally, something he had only suspected as a child: that he was his family’s aftermath. The most urgent betrayals, the great conflagration that had destroyed his family: all of it had taken place before he could remember, and the last traces were now burning out in the lightning synapses of Emily’s winter dreams.”
The problem with the book being so Roman focused is that he is a character that is so closed off – so inaccessible to the reader (at least this reader) that there is very little passion or fire to this book. I spent the first 1/8 of the book learning about the characters and then the remaining part of the book feeling as if the action taking place was all anti-climatic…with little idea what the climactic event might have been.
The women characters tell Roman at various times in his life that his poetry is guarded in such a way…that “there’s something hidden about the poems. They draw attention and give nothing back.”
It was also interesting that in a story about poets…there is very little poetry. Either actual poetry or poetic prose. There is some, which is lovely and whet the reader’s appetite for more:
“For a moment, he stood sniffing the winter air, the mixture of burning firewood and cold, which had spoken to him since childhood of other people’s easy lives.”
I did like the book…I suppose the problem is that I expected to love it. I expected to have words to savor and emotive ideas to try and wrap my head around. But most of that seemed trapped…somewhere. Actually, my feelings about the book are best summed up – by the main character of the book himself.
“Something he had been waiting for, some powerful transcendence for which he had held his breath, would not take place.”