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rachel_o_reads's reviews
163 reviews
The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson
dark
emotional
mysterious
4.0
I read this for a book club and I am so glad it was picked. I was expecting a ghost story but it was a pleasant surprise that it turned out to be more of a psychological thriller/ gothic horror book. The way Shirley Jackson writes leaves so much room for the imagination to fill in the real horror of each situation. She creates an eerie environment with vulnerable characters and lets the situation play out. For me the story really center on what the Dr. says at one point, that the ghosts cannot harm them because they have rational, concious minds. Any harm done to a person is done to themselves.
I did watch the show right after reading the book, and it made me appreciate the book that much more. It was wonderful to see how Mike Flanagan incorporates Shirley Jackson's writing into the show.
I did watch the show right after reading the book, and it made me appreciate the book that much more. It was wonderful to see how Mike Flanagan incorporates Shirley Jackson's writing into the show.
The Wall by Marlen Haushofer
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
4.25
I am not typically a fan of survivalist books. They bore me. While this was slow at times, I felt as though I was experiencing this with her in a way and the slowness allowed for a lot of reflection by the main character and myself as I was along with her on this journey.
The commentary about modern society and women's identities has really stuck with me. I have been thinking so much about how as an author, Marlen had to imagine a world in which her character was cut off from society in order to really find out who she was, without her name or and without her face. The ending whenBull and Lynx are killed broke me. It is one thing to know they are going to die, but I did not expect it the way it happened or for them to both happen to suddenly and at the same time.
Favorite quotes:
(I did a poor job tracking quotes for this book, instead i just had two pictures on my phone of two of my favorite pages of writing)
pg 174
"The meadow slowly went to sleep, the stars came out, and later the moon rode high and bathed the meadow in its cold light. I waited for those hours all day, filled with secret impatience. They were the only hours in which I was capabale of thinking quite without illusions, completely clearly. I was no longer in search of a meaning to make my life more bearable. That kind of desire struck me as being almost presumptuous. Human beings had played their own games, and in almost every case they had ended badly. And how could I complain? I was one of them and couldn't judge them, because I understood them so well. It was better not to think about human beings. The great game of the sun, moon and stars seemed to be working out, and that hadn't been invented by humans. But it wasn't completed yet, and might bear the seeds of failure within it. I was only an attentive and enchanted onlooker; my whole life would be too short to grasp even the tiniest stage of the game. I'd spent most of my life struggling with daily human concerns. Now that I had barely anything left, I could sit in peace on the bench and watch the stars dancing against the black firmament."
pg 198
"But if time exists only in my head, and I'm the last human being, it will end with my death.The thought cheers me. I may be in a postion to murder time. The big net will tear and fall, with its sad contents, into oblivion. I'm owed some gratitude, but no one after my death will know I murdered time. Really these thoughts are quite meaningless. Thing happen, and, like millions of people before me, I look for a meaning in them, because my vanity will not allow me to admit that the whole meaning of an event lies in the event itself. If I casually stand on a beetle, it will not see this event, tragic for the beetle, as a mysterious concatenation of universal significance. The beetle was beneath my foot at the moment when my foot fell, a sense of well being in the daylight, a short, shrill pain and then nothing. But we're condemned to chase after a meaning that cannot exist. I dont know whether I will ever come to terms with that knowledge. It's difficult to shake off an ancient, deep-rooted megalomania. I pity animals, and I pity people, because theyre thrown into this life without being consulted..."
The commentary about modern society and women's identities has really stuck with me. I have been thinking so much about how as an author, Marlen had to imagine a world in which her character was cut off from society in order to really find out who she was, without her name or and without her face. The ending when
Favorite quotes:
(I did a poor job tracking quotes for this book, instead i just had two pictures on my phone of two of my favorite pages of writing)
pg 174
"The meadow slowly went to sleep, the stars came out, and later the moon rode high and bathed the meadow in its cold light. I waited for those hours all day, filled with secret impatience. They were the only hours in which I was capabale of thinking quite without illusions, completely clearly. I was no longer in search of a meaning to make my life more bearable. That kind of desire struck me as being almost presumptuous. Human beings had played their own games, and in almost every case they had ended badly. And how could I complain? I was one of them and couldn't judge them, because I understood them so well. It was better not to think about human beings. The great game of the sun, moon and stars seemed to be working out, and that hadn't been invented by humans. But it wasn't completed yet, and might bear the seeds of failure within it. I was only an attentive and enchanted onlooker; my whole life would be too short to grasp even the tiniest stage of the game. I'd spent most of my life struggling with daily human concerns. Now that I had barely anything left, I could sit in peace on the bench and watch the stars dancing against the black firmament."
pg 198
"But if time exists only in my head, and I'm the last human being, it will end with my death.The thought cheers me. I may be in a postion to murder time. The big net will tear and fall, with its sad contents, into oblivion. I'm owed some gratitude, but no one after my death will know I murdered time. Really these thoughts are quite meaningless. Thing happen, and, like millions of people before me, I look for a meaning in them, because my vanity will not allow me to admit that the whole meaning of an event lies in the event itself. If I casually stand on a beetle, it will not see this event, tragic for the beetle, as a mysterious concatenation of universal significance. The beetle was beneath my foot at the moment when my foot fell, a sense of well being in the daylight, a short, shrill pain and then nothing. But we're condemned to chase after a meaning that cannot exist. I dont know whether I will ever come to terms with that knowledge. It's difficult to shake off an ancient, deep-rooted megalomania. I pity animals, and I pity people, because theyre thrown into this life without being consulted..."