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The Red Tree (Caitlin R. Kiernan)
I don't really know how to feel about this book right now. It's absorbing, though I didn't find it very creepy -- certainly not as creepy as The Haunting of Hill House. Perhaps I knew a little too much, going in: I knew that Sarah Crowe is an unreliable narrator, and someone had drawn my attention particularly to one of the footnotes at the beginning, so I didn't really surrender to the creepy aspects of it, I suppose. It's a subtle kind of horror, though: not gore, but the fear of the unknown, a vague insidious influence that creeps inside your head... There are some moments that I did find very creepy, because of that.
All the references to other texts are interesting. It made me want to track them down and read those, too, and explore the background of this story. I've added one or two to my (ever growing) list of books to get round to someday. I thought the quotations added a lot -- particularly the quotations from Alice in Wonderland, near the end.
The idea of the novel as sort of literary "found footage" is interesting, and it allows a somewhat informal, rambling narrative voice, where Sarah Crowe is concerned. I liked that she recognises her own unreliability as a narrator, that the text itself acknowledges the inaccuracy of autobiography. I did find her voice hard to believe, at first, in some ways -- almost too natural, in the swearing and digressions, like Kiernan was trying too hard to make her sound real.
I had to wonder, sometimes, when Sarah Crowe is talking about what people criticise in her work, how much that's Kiernan complaining about criticism of her work. I don't know, since I've never read anything else by her: could be interesting to try and find out.
In the end, for me, the most unsettling thing about this story was not the supernatural background, but the uncertainty Sarah Crowe feels about what she's experiencing. I like to be sure of the boundaries of myself, what I'm really experiencing and what I'm just dreaming or imagining -- that the two might bleed together is a disquieting thought.
The Name of the Rose (Umberto Eco)
This is as much a historical novel as a mystery novel; as much about philosophical debates within the church as about a series of murders. In short, it's not a simple, easy to read mystery novel. You can read it without caring about the background, and skip the parts about theological debates, but you're missing out on the richness of the novel if you do. Not that it's to everyone's taste -- I can imagine some people being bored stiff by it, because it simply isn't their thing -- but I found it interesting. There are long, long passages of description -- it's very dense. The actual mystery was reasonably easy to follow, though. Somehow I was always one or two steps ahead.
Further to the debate about reading by identifying with characters that ended so abruptly, I have to say, I really don't identify with the characters in most crime fiction. Chandler's Phillip Marlowe isn't exactly loveable, for me, and there's no one in Thomas Harris' The Silence of the Lambs that I cared desperately about... Still, in all books with characters, if they're more than card-board cutouts there's something to relate to: some emotion or action, even the smallest things. The love of learning some of the monks have, perhaps, for me.
Arthurian Romances (Chrétien de Troyes)
I can't believe it's taken me so long to get round to reading this. I've had it on my reading list for ages -- before I knew it'd be a set text -- and I'm glad I finally got round to it. It isn't a novel, as such, of course, but a set of somewhat connected stories, the last one of which is unfinished. I'm surprised by how great a part Gawain plays, even in the stories of the other knights, particularly in The Story of the Grail -- I don't think I've really seen him get so much attention in the grail story, except as a failure, in other texts.
In any case, I knew "Erec and Enide" from some other source, that preserved it almost entirely -- almost a translation, rather than a reinterpretation! No surprises in this one, for me. This edition has a good clear translation. Of course, by modern logic, Erec's treatment of Enide makes no sense at all and is horribly cruel -- I think the more modern version I read had him suspecting her of infidelity, and emphasising it as the reason for his treatment of her -- but we're not talking modern logic!
I hadn't read "Cligés" anywhere, though, although it was familiar from the similarities it had with "Tristan and Isolde". The behaviour of Fenice seems very much like a criticism of faithless Isolde; it'd have been interesting to read Chrétien's version of "Tristan and Isolde", if it survived.
"The Knight of the Cart" has survived quite well in later interpretations, although it's been pruned and added to. It was interesting to read this one, although funny that though Lancelot is praised here, he's not really present in the other texts. He isn't the model of excellence that Malory makes him: Gawain seems to have that role.
"The Knight with the Lion" is interesting. I think bits of it survive -- I knew the story about the spring -- but a lot of his wandering, and how he met the lion, was unfamiliar to me.
"The Story of the Grail" follows the Welsh knight, Perceval. I can't say I really enjoyed that much, with the contempt of the characters for the Welsh, and the way Perceval was pretty much characterised as a simpleton. But a large part of the story follows Gawain, which I enjoyed a lot, and most of his adventures in this story were new to me.
It's kinda fun reading this and reading about how silly the whole idea of chivalry -- that never really existed -- was. Idealisation or not, I do love Arthuriana for its ridiculous excesses: every maiden is the most beautiful in the world, more beautiful than Helen of Troy, and every knight is the best and the most courtly in the land... Medieval literature can get away with it; I'm afraid modern lit can't.
The Thief (Megan Whalen Turner)
Quick to read, and enjoyable. Relatively typical fantasy -- nothing particularly new, in my experience -- and kind of fails to get me totally absorbed. The background world of the story is interesting and I was glad to learn about that, but I didn't feel an urgent need to keep reading it for the sake of the characters. I did like Pol and Sophos, but wasn't overly concerned about them, either.
I shouldn't have been surprised that a thief would be an unreliable narrator. It's interesting to think back and see the clues embedded in the narrative.
I wished there'd been more of the part in Eddis, really. That all felt like winding-down-the-story, not an interesting part in its own right, which was disappointing.
Will probably read the other books: they're nice relaxing brain candy, if they're like this one.
I don't really know how to feel about this book right now. It's absorbing, though I didn't find it very creepy -- certainly not as creepy as The Haunting of Hill House. Perhaps I knew a little too much, going in: I knew that Sarah Crowe is an unreliable narrator, and someone had drawn my attention particularly to one of the footnotes at the beginning, so I didn't really surrender to the creepy aspects of it, I suppose. It's a subtle kind of horror, though: not gore, but the fear of the unknown, a vague insidious influence that creeps inside your head... There are some moments that I did find very creepy, because of that.
All the references to other texts are interesting. It made me want to track them down and read those, too, and explore the background of this story. I've added one or two to my (ever growing) list of books to get round to someday. I thought the quotations added a lot -- particularly the quotations from Alice in Wonderland, near the end.
The idea of the novel as sort of literary "found footage" is interesting, and it allows a somewhat informal, rambling narrative voice, where Sarah Crowe is concerned. I liked that she recognises her own unreliability as a narrator, that the text itself acknowledges the inaccuracy of autobiography. I did find her voice hard to believe, at first, in some ways -- almost too natural, in the swearing and digressions, like Kiernan was trying too hard to make her sound real.
I had to wonder, sometimes, when Sarah Crowe is talking about what people criticise in her work, how much that's Kiernan complaining about criticism of her work. I don't know, since I've never read anything else by her: could be interesting to try and find out.
In the end, for me, the most unsettling thing about this story was not the supernatural background, but the uncertainty Sarah Crowe feels about what she's experiencing. I like to be sure of the boundaries of myself, what I'm really experiencing and what I'm just dreaming or imagining -- that the two might bleed together is a disquieting thought.
The Name of the Rose (Umberto Eco)
This is as much a historical novel as a mystery novel; as much about philosophical debates within the church as about a series of murders. In short, it's not a simple, easy to read mystery novel. You can read it without caring about the background, and skip the parts about theological debates, but you're missing out on the richness of the novel if you do. Not that it's to everyone's taste -- I can imagine some people being bored stiff by it, because it simply isn't their thing -- but I found it interesting. There are long, long passages of description -- it's very dense. The actual mystery was reasonably easy to follow, though. Somehow I was always one or two steps ahead.
Further to the debate about reading by identifying with characters that ended so abruptly, I have to say, I really don't identify with the characters in most crime fiction. Chandler's Phillip Marlowe isn't exactly loveable, for me, and there's no one in Thomas Harris' The Silence of the Lambs that I cared desperately about... Still, in all books with characters, if they're more than card-board cutouts there's something to relate to: some emotion or action, even the smallest things. The love of learning some of the monks have, perhaps, for me.
Arthurian Romances (Chrétien de Troyes)
I can't believe it's taken me so long to get round to reading this. I've had it on my reading list for ages -- before I knew it'd be a set text -- and I'm glad I finally got round to it. It isn't a novel, as such, of course, but a set of somewhat connected stories, the last one of which is unfinished. I'm surprised by how great a part Gawain plays, even in the stories of the other knights, particularly in The Story of the Grail -- I don't think I've really seen him get so much attention in the grail story, except as a failure, in other texts.
In any case, I knew "Erec and Enide" from some other source, that preserved it almost entirely -- almost a translation, rather than a reinterpretation! No surprises in this one, for me. This edition has a good clear translation. Of course, by modern logic, Erec's treatment of Enide makes no sense at all and is horribly cruel -- I think the more modern version I read had him suspecting her of infidelity, and emphasising it as the reason for his treatment of her -- but we're not talking modern logic!
I hadn't read "Cligés" anywhere, though, although it was familiar from the similarities it had with "Tristan and Isolde". The behaviour of Fenice seems very much like a criticism of faithless Isolde; it'd have been interesting to read Chrétien's version of "Tristan and Isolde", if it survived.
"The Knight of the Cart" has survived quite well in later interpretations, although it's been pruned and added to. It was interesting to read this one, although funny that though Lancelot is praised here, he's not really present in the other texts. He isn't the model of excellence that Malory makes him: Gawain seems to have that role.
"The Knight with the Lion" is interesting. I think bits of it survive -- I knew the story about the spring -- but a lot of his wandering, and how he met the lion, was unfamiliar to me.
"The Story of the Grail" follows the Welsh knight, Perceval. I can't say I really enjoyed that much, with the contempt of the characters for the Welsh, and the way Perceval was pretty much characterised as a simpleton. But a large part of the story follows Gawain, which I enjoyed a lot, and most of his adventures in this story were new to me.
It's kinda fun reading this and reading about how silly the whole idea of chivalry -- that never really existed -- was. Idealisation or not, I do love Arthuriana for its ridiculous excesses: every maiden is the most beautiful in the world, more beautiful than Helen of Troy, and every knight is the best and the most courtly in the land... Medieval literature can get away with it; I'm afraid modern lit can't.
The Thief (Megan Whalen Turner)
Quick to read, and enjoyable. Relatively typical fantasy -- nothing particularly new, in my experience -- and kind of fails to get me totally absorbed. The background world of the story is interesting and I was glad to learn about that, but I didn't feel an urgent need to keep reading it for the sake of the characters. I did like Pol and Sophos, but wasn't overly concerned about them, either.
I shouldn't have been surprised that a thief would be an unreliable narrator. It's interesting to think back and see the clues embedded in the narrative.
I wished there'd been more of the part in Eddis, really. That all felt like winding-down-the-story, not an interesting part in its own right, which was disappointing.
Will probably read the other books: they're nice relaxing brain candy, if they're like this one.
