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A review by bohoautumn
The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James
5.0
...
Hot dang.
I picked up Henry James' novel as part of the Booklover's project. I chose his most celebrated and am rather sorry for it. I loved it so much that it's a great disappointment to think the rest all fall below this one.
I've heard the judgement of verbosity pinned on James and I think it somewhat misleading. If a thing can be said in 4 words or 10, James will go for the 10. However, the incredible pace, meaning a gorgeously and perfectly steady one, is maintained only because he doesn't indulge in the verbosity of say Gaskell, or heck, Proust. He doesn't ramble off into never-ending thought trails, in this novel at least. Just saying.
I have my small gripe that makes this one more of a 4.7 than a full 5. That he too often explains everything that went on before when it was perfectly understood with his subtle hand. A bit like when someone feels the need to explain their joke. Takes the shine off. Nevertheless I would be doing it a disservice to call it anything less than a masterpiece.
James has a beautiful ability to shape character and plot movement. Each character was unreservedly distinct, with definite form and colour. James' brilliance is not in his depiction of motivation, as is Gaskells', but in humble yet vivid nuances of emotion and behaviour. Events intertwined gracefully and crossed just enough. The ending, thank goodness, does not insult the reader's intelligence.
rest of review @ ink + chai
Hot dang.
I picked up Henry James' novel as part of the Booklover's project. I chose his most celebrated and am rather sorry for it. I loved it so much that it's a great disappointment to think the rest all fall below this one.
I've heard the judgement of verbosity pinned on James and I think it somewhat misleading. If a thing can be said in 4 words or 10, James will go for the 10. However, the incredible pace, meaning a gorgeously and perfectly steady one, is maintained only because he doesn't indulge in the verbosity of say Gaskell, or heck, Proust. He doesn't ramble off into never-ending thought trails, in this novel at least. Just saying.
I have my small gripe that makes this one more of a 4.7 than a full 5. That he too often explains everything that went on before when it was perfectly understood with his subtle hand. A bit like when someone feels the need to explain their joke. Takes the shine off. Nevertheless I would be doing it a disservice to call it anything less than a masterpiece.
James has a beautiful ability to shape character and plot movement. Each character was unreservedly distinct, with definite form and colour. James' brilliance is not in his depiction of motivation, as is Gaskells', but in humble yet vivid nuances of emotion and behaviour. Events intertwined gracefully and crossed just enough. The ending, thank goodness, does not insult the reader's intelligence.
rest of review @ ink + chai