Scan barcode
annalouise's reviews
459 reviews
Whatever by Michel Houellebecq, Paul Hammond
3.5
May not have loved the book, but the last line, 'It will not take place, the sublime fusion; the goal of life is missed. It is two in the afternoon', was enough to bump it from a middling 3 star to 3.5. I think the first two parts were rather weak, but the development of the narrator's psyche in the last part makes up for the drag of the beginning.
The novel is more of a voyeurism of the tech work environment than a commentary on it, although the commentary comes from that voyeurism. The equation of financial culture with sexual is an interesting and accurate one, insofar as you view sex in a capitalist society as a commodity. Tisserand's particular plight is interesting in that regard, and the narrator attempts to act out his own fantasies - he is passive yet opinionated, he silently hates everything around him, but never makes an attempt himself to change it - to get revenge on his ex-lover through a stand-in (Tisserand for him and the girl for Véronique). Echoes the quiet misogyny of many novels of its time and before, it is simply not interesting any longer.
The animal dialogue segments reinforce the overall tone of the narrator's thoughts, and particularly his penchant for projecting his own desires onto others, here acting them out in his fictions. I did, however, think they were thrown in as an attempt at originality which came across bizarre and useless. They don't add much to the story at all that isn't already - or couldn't be - explored through the existing content of the novel.
The novel is more of a voyeurism of the tech work environment than a commentary on it, although the commentary comes from that voyeurism. The equation of financial culture with sexual is an interesting and accurate one, insofar as you view sex in a capitalist society as a commodity. Tisserand's particular plight is interesting in that regard, and the narrator attempts to act out his own fantasies - he is passive yet opinionated, he silently hates everything around him, but never makes an attempt himself to change it - to get revenge on his ex-lover through a stand-in (Tisserand for him and the girl for Véronique). Echoes the quiet misogyny of many novels of its time and before, it is simply not interesting any longer.
The animal dialogue segments reinforce the overall tone of the narrator's thoughts, and particularly his penchant for projecting his own desires onto others, here acting them out in his fictions. I did, however, think they were thrown in as an attempt at originality which came across bizarre and useless. They don't add much to the story at all that isn't already - or couldn't be - explored through the existing content of the novel.
Three Bedrooms in Manhattan by Georges Simenon
3.0
Not entirely sure what is mysterious about this, but it’s a quick and engaging read. Personally found François’s insights to be captivating in their underlying misogyny. He appears to hate Kay, and his violent thoughts do not endear you to his character. His actions are odd, ruled almost by fear. In loving Kay, as he claims he has come to do, he is equally as confused. I have only otherwise read The Hand by Simenon, but I find them to be equivalent in their attitudes towards women, but in my opinion, The Hand is the better novel.
Adèle by Leïla Slimani
2.75
Interesting characters, but I feel not enough is done with them. The story is a constant cycle of bad to better, and while the ambiguous ending perhaps symbolises a breaking of this cycle, it does so in a way which is as unsatisfactory as death. The reader wishes to learn about Adèle's future. That does not happen. I don't think there is any chance at change for her when we have seen the denial and paranoia both she and Richard live under by the end of the novel. Her desire towards objectivity is perhaps the most interesting theme in the book, however, again, I don't think it is developed well. While I liked the novel, I feel as though had it been longer and more developed, it would be a more compelling story.
Fiesta: The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
3.5
Personally don't really feel any type of way about this one. The style is good, the characters are interesting, the fishing and bullfighting are not things I would typically be interested in, but I don't think that detracts much from the effect. Some obvious issues re: attitudes of the time and particularly Cohn's character and role in the story. Enjoyed witnessing the bohemian lifestyle from someone who doesn't necessarily adhere to it, and Jake's narration was compelling as he was heavily invested but not particularly involved in the conflicts of the story. Would be nice to reread if I went to Spain, but otherwise I'm not sure I'll pick it up again.
Água Viva by Clarice Lispector
This passage, along with many others, are particularly heartbreaking. The narrator's writing is a cry for help - which is invoked many times - and the entire story is an attempt to be seen which is never to be realised. It is unclear whether the 'you' that the narrator addresses is still in their life or not, with a contrast between the content of the writing (which suggests a lost love) and specific addresses which refer to their meeting.
The above passage also reminds me of Norwegian Wood, when Midori writes a letter to Toru while he is buying them drinks. In it, she is angry that after ignoring her for months, he has seen her, but still managed to ignore her (didn't notice a new haircut), because he is so focused on his own problems. Although we do not get the perspective of the 'you' in Àgua Viva, it is rather plain to see that the narrator writes to them because 'you' cannot see 'me', which is hurtful to the narrator, yet merely an aspect of the human condition. The narrator's identity appears plain to them, yet 'you' are still unwilling to attempt understanding, and by extension, love. R.D. Laing, in The Divided Self, says that much madness would have been prevented or cured by love, which is rooted in understanding another's perspective. The narrator of Àgua Viva feels this deeply.
5.0
The storygraph AI feature compares this to Virginia Woolf and Franz Kafka. While I agree with this, I would like to take the opportunity to espouse Anaïs Nin a little bit. I see very strong parallels between this and A Spy in the House of Love, and I feel that although both can presumably be compared to the works of male writers, they speak of a uniquely feminine experience. Both Sabina and the narrator here are seeking affirmation in the other, and which they are unable to find in themselves. They are alone in the world and dream of being known, and through that loved. Where Sabina strays from her husband, believing that she cannot get the understanding that she needs from him, the narrator here knows that 'you' cannot give them the love they want, but refuses to stray from them, and instead writes and writes, knowing that they will not be heard but hoping nonetheless.
‘There’s a love song of theirs that also says monotonously the lament I make my own: why do I love you if you don’t return my love? I send messengers in vain; when I greet you you hide your face from me; why do I love you if you don’t even notice me?’
This passage, along with many others, are particularly heartbreaking. The narrator's writing is a cry for help - which is invoked many times - and the entire story is an attempt to be seen which is never to be realised. It is unclear whether the 'you' that the narrator addresses is still in their life or not, with a contrast between the content of the writing (which suggests a lost love) and specific addresses which refer to their meeting.
‘We will meet this afternoon. And I won’t even talk to you about this that I’m writing and which contains what I am and which I give you as a present though you won’t read it. You will never read what I’m writing. […] I’m writing you because you can’t accept what I am.’
The above passage also reminds me of Norwegian Wood, when Midori writes a letter to Toru while he is buying them drinks. In it, she is angry that after ignoring her for months, he has seen her, but still managed to ignore her (didn't notice a new haircut), because he is so focused on his own problems. Although we do not get the perspective of the 'you' in Àgua Viva, it is rather plain to see that the narrator writes to them because 'you' cannot see 'me', which is hurtful to the narrator, yet merely an aspect of the human condition. The narrator's identity appears plain to them, yet 'you' are still unwilling to attempt understanding, and by extension, love. R.D. Laing, in The Divided Self, says that much madness would have been prevented or cured by love, which is rooted in understanding another's perspective. The narrator of Àgua Viva feels this deeply.
Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
4.75
Started reading for a piece on invisibility at the hand of dehumanisation, but I was utterly captivated as I did not expect to be. I definitely got lost at a few points - particularly in a lot of the 'action' scenes, less of a comment on the novel than on my tastes - but the character's inner monologues are the star of this one. The prologue begins with one such monologue, and it does an excellent job at speaking to all those who might pick up the novel, no matter their race, gender, etc. The entire novel is focused on one man's experience of an everyman's issue - the lack of experienced humanity - focusing on a singular experience (a Southern black man who is exiled North). The narrator's invisibility stems from his not being treated as human, and so he feels he is unreal, at times part of a machine (as he becomes through an exchange of labour which is technically fair, yet strips him of his humanity all the same). He has spent so much of his life giving up parts of himself (by yes-manning white people, his superiors and people he calls his peers (brothers)) that he has ceased to feel alive, unable to act for himself and forced into portraying the character which is expected of him - by his white townsfolk, by his school, and by the brotherhood. All claim to have his best interests at heart, yet each situation causes him to fade more and more as those people enact their own self-serving puppetry. Please note that I read this in conjunction with R.D. Laing's The Divided Self, so take this review with a grain of salt.
The Hand by Linda Coverdale, Georges Simenon
4.25
An interesting look into a paranoid mind. The novel focuses primarily on Donald’s guilty conscience, and his projection of this onto his ‘controlling’ wife, who he sees as a stand in for his own mother. He fixates on and fears Isabel’s silent judgement in all situations - after his friend’s death, in his affair, and after his mistress breaks things off - as she says nothing. Reading her eyes, he finds the reflection of his own guilt, and this causes him to act out against her, as a son would his mother. Overall, a short and compelling read starring a man who fears his own madness so much that it drives him deeper into it.
The Atrocity Exhibition by J.G. Ballard
3.0
interesting to see the development of this into crash, but i think it reads more as notes towards that book rather than anything to its own. while fiction, the narrative is fragmented and features the same characters (archetypes is perhaps more applicable, as the characters go by various names while retaining their ascribed values) in varying situations - environments, times, relations. to treat the events of the novel as reality is to do so only as far as presenting the reality of its characters - which is to say, to view their psychological issues as creating a false reality, but the truth (if it exists) is never explored. there is no differentiation between dream, fabrication and reality, all are treated as real as the others. i think this is perhaps best looked at as a series of experiments in writing rather than as a story/book of its own, and to look at Ballard's later work in the context of this one.