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A review by melindamoor
The Golden Bowl by Henry James
3.0
ETA:
Well, Henry James was either a freaking genius totally beyond the praise or criticism of lowly, unworthy readers, like yours truly
OR
a self-indulgent, pompous ass and I, for one, am still yearning for a chance to be able to travel back in time and throw this book at his self-indulgent, pompous head!
Even though I am presented with the subconscious of the characters to an almost painfully detailed degree, yet I feel totally detached from them. Whether it is the language or the literary technique or my misguided attempt to "bond" with the characters on some level to be able to care for them or at least to understand them a little, I find it impossible.
It's like looking at a grand, gorgeous aquarium with splendid, majestic, colourful fishes swimming around, but even though you try to take in & delight in all the details, you have to realise that you just can't, because the water is muddled or the glass containing them somehow magnifies & distorts your view and you get a splitting headache by looking through it too long.
Let it be said that this time, HJ did not irritate the hell out of me, which is a huge improvement!
Original review:
Dear Henry James,
after all these years I still cannot decide if it's just me or you or the both of us (aka the fault in our stars).
Maybe we met in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Maybe there will come a time when a possible reunion ends in desperate hugs and tears & the question of "why did we waste all those precious years?" arises.
I don't know ... Let's give our relationship another try in 2019.
Yours in obfuscation,
Melinda
Well, Henry James was either a freaking genius totally beyond the praise or criticism of lowly, unworthy readers, like yours truly
OR
a self-indulgent, pompous ass and I, for one, am still yearning for a chance to be able to travel back in time and throw this book at his self-indulgent, pompous head!
Even though I am presented with the subconscious of the characters to an almost painfully detailed degree, yet I feel totally detached from them. Whether it is the language or the literary technique or my misguided attempt to "bond" with the characters on some level to be able to care for them or at least to understand them a little, I find it impossible.
It's like looking at a grand, gorgeous aquarium with splendid, majestic, colourful fishes swimming around, but even though you try to take in & delight in all the details, you have to realise that you just can't, because the water is muddled or the glass containing them somehow magnifies & distorts your view and you get a splitting headache by looking through it too long.
Let it be said that this time, HJ did not irritate the hell out of me, which is a huge improvement!
Original review:
Dear Henry James,
after all these years I still cannot decide if it's just me or you or the both of us (aka the fault in our stars).
Maybe we met in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Maybe there will come a time when a possible reunion ends in desperate hugs and tears & the question of "why did we waste all those precious years?" arises.
I don't know ... Let's give our relationship another try in 2019.
Yours in obfuscation,
Melinda