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A review by aria_izikdzurko
The Favourite Game by Leonard Cohen
4.0
Cohen is a master at capturing the fine balance between the sexual and the sensual, the lascivious and the loving. This book follows Breavman, tracing his life from childhood through to adult years in Montreal. Mainly, it outlines the web of relationships that he relentlessly pursued, the shameless lust of a romantic poet. There is very little real love portrayed in this fascinating narrative of an emotionally messed up character.
This short novel shows how life is made up of the people we know. More than a city, more than any place, people create a home and memories, they help one to define oneself and to form a self image. Breavman sees himself as a sinner (there is the story in the opening chapters where a young Breavman shouts “fuck God” and Lisa falls from a tree- perhaps a little nod to Adam and Eve’s fall from Grace), and while egotistical and self-obsessed, it doesn’t seem like Breavman actually likes himself much. The bizarre way in which he views women - as infinitely desirable objects to be used- has sparked a lot of dislike of the book, but it is clear that Cohen isn’t trying to praise this way of thinking. There is also a notable lack of male characters in the book; perhaps this shows that women had much more of an impact on Breavman than he would admit.
This is a book in which the protagonist is equally an antagonist. Nonetheless, Cohen’s brilliant storytelling makes it impossible not to feel empathy for Breavman’s lonely form of hedonistic angst, despite his arrogance and seeming chauvinism.
This was unsettling and, as always with Cohen, achingly poetic.
This short novel shows how life is made up of the people we know. More than a city, more than any place, people create a home and memories, they help one to define oneself and to form a self image. Breavman sees himself as a sinner (there is the story in the opening chapters where a young Breavman shouts “fuck God” and Lisa falls from a tree- perhaps a little nod to Adam and Eve’s fall from Grace), and while egotistical and self-obsessed, it doesn’t seem like Breavman actually likes himself much. The bizarre way in which he views women - as infinitely desirable objects to be used- has sparked a lot of dislike of the book, but it is clear that Cohen isn’t trying to praise this way of thinking. There is also a notable lack of male characters in the book; perhaps this shows that women had much more of an impact on Breavman than he would admit.
This is a book in which the protagonist is equally an antagonist. Nonetheless, Cohen’s brilliant storytelling makes it impossible not to feel empathy for Breavman’s lonely form of hedonistic angst, despite his arrogance and seeming chauvinism.
This was unsettling and, as always with Cohen, achingly poetic.