chery's reviews
50 reviews

The Stranger by Albert Camus

dark slow-paced

5.0

From the moment I picked up this book, I never found it boring. Reading other reviews, I realized it's not everyone’s cup of tea—some people just don’t get it, but I do. It resonated with me, especially in how it led me to question my own life and in how I found myself agreeing with the main character’s final reflections on life and the years stolen from him: It didn’t matter whether we die today or tomorrow when there’s no one you truly treasure or who understands you.

I hope this doesn’t suggest that I’m straying from my faith, as I’m a devoted believer. I’d like to think that I'm just going through a quarter-life crisis. I see this novel as capturing the life of an atheist (nihilist?) forced to confront the life he lost, to feel remorse and regret, and to cherish the precious moments he could never fully embrace—but couldn’t bring himself to do. Reading this book while dealing with depression might seem fitting, though I strongly advise against it. 

Some passages in the final chapter hit me like a truck, and I want to keep them here for posterity. This may contain spoilers. 

How was I to know, since apart from our two bodies, now separated, there wasn’t anything to keep us together or even to remind us of each other? Anyway, after that, remembering Marie meant nothing to me. I wasn’t interested in her dead. That seemed perfectly normal to me, since I understood very well that people would forget me when I was dead. They wouldn’t have anything more to do with me. I wasn’t even able to tell myself that it was hard to think those things.

He was expressing his certainty that my appeal would be granted, but I was carrying the burden of a sin from which I had to free myself. According to him, human justice was nothing and divine justice was everything. I pointed out that it was the former that had condemned me. His response was that it hadn’t washed away my sin for all that.

I had been right, I was still right, I was always right. I had lived my life one way and I could just as well have lived it another. I had done this and I hadn’t done that. I hadn’t done this thing but I had done another. And so? It was as if I had waited all this time for this moment and for the first light of this dawn to be vindicated. Nothing, nothing mattered, and I knew why. So did he.

Sounds of the countryside were drifting in. Smells of night, earth, and salt air were cooling my temples. The wondrous peace of that sleeping summer flowed through me like a tide. Then, in the dark hour before dawn, sirens blasted. They were announcing departures for a world that now and forever meant nothing to me.

For the first time in a long time I thought about Maman. I felt as if I understood why at the end of her life she had taken a “fiance,” why she had played at beginning again. Even there, in that home where lives were fading out, evening was a kind of wistful respite. So close to death, Maman must have felt free then and ready to live it all again. Nobody, nobody had the right to cry over her. And I felt ready to live it all again too.

As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself—so like a brother, really—I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again. For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf

informative inspiring medium-paced

3.0

A 100-page book that feels like 300. I had difficulty extracting the sentences and understanding some references Woolf mentioned. However, I understand that she was highlighting the unfairness of the literary world for women in the 19th century. She wanted to provide examples of women writers who didn’t have a room of their own yet still managed to write fiction. It’s a bit condescending, somehow, the way she criticized these women writers as if she knew better. I don’t understand the point of her criticism towards them when she previously mentioned male writers. It doesn’t sit right with me, but then I could review some of my highlights and see how she took this perspective when nobody else would, to see women writers from a different light.

All the Lovers in the Night by Mieko Kawakami

emotional reflective sad medium-paced

5.0

Reading Journal

• What if it’s all true?

That we’re not living a life of our own, but on someone’s expec
tations? Or maybe, what we are feeling is a reflection of someone else’s experience that we become unconsciously resigned to pick up? I wonder if it’s so bad being an NPC—to live a life chosen for you, to have everything at your disposal, and your decisions not mattering in the slightest. God knows who or what we actually live this life for.

• What about our feelings?

Is there any importance or significance in our lives in having them? Only to keep being told off all the time, or simply to “knock out of it.” No wonder so many are left astray, in a helpless state, if anything we feel would ever make any difference.

• A co-worker tattles on another co-worker’s bad tendencies

Just how much of ourselves have been known to other people? How many fractions of ourselves can we still call our own, and not become their consumption for gossip? How is it so easy for someone to judge and make a prejudice of others, as if they know the first thing about us? Do we need to do the same, so we are not called “old-fashioned”? Nobody ever teaches us how to “act” in accordance with the norms of society, yet see how easy it is to be painted a certain color that we’re not.

REVIEW

Fuyuko Irie’s world is depicted in a monochromatic palette, devoid of vibrant emotions until the arrival of Mitsutsuka. This new presence stirs a torrent of feelings within her, yet she struggles to articulate them. One might ponder if she ever experiences even a fleeting moment of joy, or if she deems it necessary. Her constant state of suppression and isolation is eerily relatable, invoking familiarity that’s a bit unsettling.

The novel took an unexpected and disturbing turn with the rape scene, which was particularly jarring as it was unanticipated (I did not check the content warnings). This scene left me feeling nauseated. Additionally, Fuyuko’s fantasies about Mitsutsuka were discomforting. Her daydreams and sexual desires for someone she hardly knows, without mutual consent or understanding, felt invasive and inappropriate. Her attention to someone’s physical appearance, specifically mentioning their weight, further added to the irks. Her pre-existing alcohol addiction, long before meeting Mitsutsuka, made her dislikable. Fuyuko’s actions and thoughts could be frustrating at times.

In spite of that, I am falling in love with Kawakami’s writing for the nth time. I am always captivated by her ability to evoke a curious longing, making each sentence feel urgent, as if there is a need to feel more than we are actually capable of. Have you ever felt for someone to the extent of anguish, your soul torn to pieces as words escape every fiber of your body? That is how it feels to read All the Lovers in the Night. Who is the lover? To whom are we supposed to let our love flow in a way that brings us solace? Have you ever found such love that is so heartbreaking and yet, so profound? How does it feel to have such emotions? So deep it could be a never-ending abyss—I am absolutely mesmerized.

The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky

challenging dark reflective slow-paced

4.5

I feel that this is another ‘typical’ Dostoevsky piece, which I’m quite sure many would agree with. The plotline may seem a bit plain, with sudden and rapid increases in tension that leave readers bewildered. There are murders, sudden fatal illnesses, and the main character receives a vague resolution at the end. I must admit that it’s difficult to like the protagonist, as his constant indecisiveness becomes irritating and he fails to convince readers to see things from his perspective. I really enjoyed the climax chapters, but the earlier chapters were less engaging. While the plot flows immaculately, this book doesn’t offer much in terms of spirtual lessons unlike many other great pieces by him. 

The only thing that endears me is the connection between Rogozhin and the Prince. They need each other, but why are they always separated? If only they could be side by side. Their opposite personalities would help them overcome crises. The Prince has no inclination to reject even the evil, while Rogozhin cannot resist the evil despite his good intentions. It is heartbreaking to see both of them driven to their own ruin. Especially since the Prince is so compassionate, wanting to help everyone, even if he might be led to his own doom. Perhaps the lesson is, don’t be an idiot.

Notes from a Dead House by Fyodor Dostoevsky

challenging reflective slow-paced

3.25

I was not expecting a semi-autobiography in a philosophical book, but The House of the Dead offers a closer angle on the lives of convicts in Siberia during the harsh conditions of the 1880s, which might even change one’s perspective on life. A nobleman, Alexander Petrovich, experienced the life of peasants, and his view of his temporary life in prison raised his curiosity. Although the stories of his peers in prison can pique general interest, they feel somewhat bleak compared to other works by Dostoevsky. Perhaps I am complaining due to my inexperience with such storytelling, as the book could pass as non-fiction if told as a true story. Each character is perhaps only briefly mentioned, and therefore, I cannot recall particular details about them. Nonetheless, it is eye-opening to peek into a life so harsh and isolated, which could lead to either insanity or repentance. As Petrovich stated:

Nobody, I know, can care much about it at all except myself; but I write because I think people will understand, and because there are those who have been, those who yet will be, like myself, condemned, imprisoned, cut off from life, in the flower of their age, and in the full possession of all their strength.

And I feel that deeply.

The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk

challenging informative inspiring reflective medium-paced

3.75

This book offers a blend of scientific detail and personal stories. The use of complex scientific terminology can make it hard to stay focused. I had to skim through the last few chapters because it became difficult to stay engaged. However, the detailed professional and anatomical perspectives enhance the psychological insights, making the information more comprehensive. My favorite sections are the personal experiences shared by individuals, illustrating the healing process from trauma. These accounts are often heart-wrenching but deeply moving, revealing the path to recovery. Overall, it’s a worthwhile read but a challenging one for someone without expertise in psychology.

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky

dark reflective tense medium-paced

5.0

I’ve always loved the way Dostoevsky refers to dreams as reflections of real life. Dreams can also stand as signs or beckonings that shouldn’t be taken lightly, especially for his characters. I now believe Dostoevsky himself resonated with the link between life and dreams based on his personal experiences.

In a morbid condition of the brain, dreams often have a singular actuality, vividness, and extraordinary semblance of reality. At times monstrous images are created, but the setting and the whole picture are so truth-like and filled with details so delicate, so unexpectedly, but so artistically consistent, that the dreamer, were he an artist like Pushkin or Turgenev even, could never have invented them in the waking state. Such sick dreams always remain long in the memory and make a powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system.

I can feel how tremendous suffering is something we can’t avoid, and in the book, this is most evident in the dilemma and torment Raskolnikov unfolds.

Crime and Punishment maintains a flowing pace and immaculate thrill, especially in the climax chapters. I cannot help but compare it to The Brothers Karamazov. While the latter delves into spiritual and religious values towards life—something that everyone may scarcely understand—Crime and Punishment takes life in the most humane way. It explores our evil deeds, unthinkable contempt for the world or others, our deepest fears, and the sins that accompany us throughout life. Both novels share similar sentiments regarding sorrow, human nature, and redemption, which makes me believe Dostoevsky remains superior compared to other authors. He intertwines spirituality with philosophy, and reading his works never fails to make me feel as though I’ve had a religious experience. The epilogue surely holds some impact, and now I am grief-stricken having to part with such amazing characters and story.

White Nights by Fyodor Dostoevsky

emotional sad medium-paced

5.0

I wish I knew how to love someone unconditionally like the main character, but in reality, I fear it is quite an impossibility. I was expectant and hopeful, and I had a feeling about how things would turn out. I was right. I didn’t feel contempt or question the character’s decision, though, which is what makes the book leave a lingering trace after finishing it. Utterly beautiful. I was blown away, but my chest feels warm with love. I am content, having felt so much within just a few short pages of the book.

Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky

reflective slow-paced

4.0

Notes from Underground stands as a deeply insightful yet often overlooked work that delves into the human condition. The protagonist, the Underground Man, voices thoughts that we usually suppress, driven by a sense of sheer vanity. He boldly claims that he has taken his actions to extremes that others would not dare to, exposing the cowardice that others mistake for good sense. This intense self-awareness suggests he sees more genuine life in his extreme behavior than in the cautious lives of those around him, and perhaps it is as he fancies. 

Dostoevsky expertly crafts an anti-hero, bringing together traits that make the Underground Man profoundly unlikable. This serves to underscore the novel’s central theme: we are all, to some degree, estranged from the true essence of life, each of us metaphorical cripples. Throughout the narrative, the Underground Man expresses shame and doubt about his story, making the work feel like a form of self-punishment rather than a traditional literary piece. This raw honesty adds a layer of authenticity, transforming the novel into an exploration of human flaws.

In essence, Notes from Underground compels readers to face the uncomfortable truths about themselves and their own cowardice, making it a powerful, if disconcerting, read.

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

dark mysterious

3.0

The book has garnered much attention. Its subject, Wilde’s own life and his reflection on the characters, is certainly very interesting. However, the story itself feels too dream-like to be set in a realistic setting.

For example, in Chapter 11, Dorian Gray talks about his devotion over the years to subjects that capture life’s pleasures. He seeks to know everything about life and acquires possessions such as music, tapestries, and jewels. These are things he pursued in life to extract knowledge and use for his own benefit later on. A temptation to which he has succumbed and the tarnish he brought upon himself, with ideas of life that are too different compared to what real life would be. His mind is filled with impractical and unreachable ideas, with motives that are unclear and seem more symbolic than realistic. A shallow daydream, I dare say? It’s as if he learns from a fantastical book where one can achieve things easily without progression through struggles and hard work. He may have it easy because of his good looks, but his conscience is that of a child who knows nothing about the world. As phrased:

Yes: there was to be, as Lord Henry had prophesied, a new Hedonism that was to recreate life and to save it from that harsh uncomely puritanism that is having, in our own day, its curious revival. It was to have its service of the intellect, certainly, yet it was never to accept any theory or system that would involve the sacrifice of any mode of passionate experience. Its aim, indeed, was to be experience itself, and not the fruits of experience, sweet or bitter as they might be. Of the asceticism that deadens the senses, as of the vulgar profligacy that dulls them, it was to know nothing. But it was to teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of a life that is itself but a moment.

It feels over-explained, without a single aim to reduce it to a conclusion. The value one finds in it is unlikely, as it is too broad of an idea.

As for Lord Henry, whom I find quite admirable, he comes off as relatable until the end. An eccentric personality in comparison to Dorian’s. His skepticism and cynicism about life may seem cruel, but he understands what life has in store and what is required to achieve one’s goals. His mind is full of cunningly clever ideas, for he understands people through their tendencies and nature, and therefore their psychology. His thoughts are less metaphorical and romantic, more straightforward, though often a difficult pill to swallow. Yet, there are always some truths in it. To my dismay though, his effect on Dorian Gray is based on sheer curiosity and further into the chapters, he simply loses all interest in the young man, making it a rather anticlimactic conclusion from the connection of the two.

Regarding the symbolism, it seems like child’s play to me instead of being deeply provoking and stirred with philosophy. What I also dislike about reading the book is the typographical inconsistencies, mostly in dialogues. Some references to characters remain unclear instead of being re-mentioned to give clarity as to whose it refers to, since it merely states ‘He’ when there are three people in the situation. One paragraph may contain two different dialogues which make me irked whenever I encounter it.

Overall, while the book has intriguing aspects and offers a deep dive into Wilde’s life and philosophies, its dream-like narrative and typographical issues detract from its overall impact. It leaves me with a sense of disconnect, making it difficult to fully immerse in the story.

Symbolism · Uncensored