What do you think?
Rate this book
Yaratık
Yaratık, günümüz İngiliz edebiyatının en ilginç ve en çarpıcı gerilim romanlarından biri. Tıpkı Dostoyevski'nin romanlarında olduğu gibi, insanı saran paradokslarla dolu etik bir derinliğe ama aynı zamanda da, Fowles'un virtüözlük düzeyindeki hikâye anlatma tekniğinden kaynaklanan soluk kesici bir sürükleyiciliğe sahip.
Yazarın zihninde aralıklarla beliren ve gitgide vücut kazanan, tuhaf bir imgedir anlatılan. Soğuk, karanlık bir ilkbahar gününde, sonsuz kıraç toprakların ufuk çizgisinde yol alan küçük bir atlı kafile imgesi... gizemli bir kadının da dahil olduğu bu kafilenin bilmecelerle dolu yolculuğu... ve yolun sonundaki beklenmedik ölümün ardından gelen sorgulama... Sıradan bir polisiye olayın ötesine uzanıp metafizik boyutlara erişen ve bilimkurgusal tınılar da taşıyan girift bir anlatı.
Çağdaş İngiliz edebiyatının en önde gelen yazarları arasında sayılan John Fowles, Viktorya dönemi İngiltere'sinde geçen Fransız Teğmenin Kadını adlı ünlü romanında olduğu gibi, yine tarihsel bir arkaplanı romanına fon olarak seçiyor. Ama, amacı kesinlikle klasik anlamda tarihsel bir roman yazmak değil. Sade yaşantılarıyla kilise kurumunun otoritesine kökten karşı çıkışlarıyla tanınan, İsa'nın dünyaya yeniden bir "kadın" olarak geleceğini ileri süren, gündelik hayatlarında komünizan öğelere rastlanan, yoksulluğu ve cinsel perhizi savunan Shaker mezhebinin öğreti ve pratikleri üzerine temelleniyor roman. Ancak Fowles karşımıza, geçmişe gelecekten bakan ve o zamanın zihniyetini çağdaş bireyin moderniteyle yüklü, son derece karmaşık görüş açısından değerlendiren bir yazar kimliğiyle ortaya çıkıyor Yaratık'ta. Bir yandan, 18. yüzyıl İngiltere'sinin toplumsal tabakalaşmasına, törelerine, sınıf atlama yapılarına ilişkin çok ilginç ayrıntılar ortaya koyarken, bir yandan da, kurmaca bir yapıt meydana getirdiğinin bilincinde bir yazar olarak, sürükleyici hikâyeler anlatabilme yeteneğini seferber ediyor.
1985 yılında Fransa'da en iyi çeviri roman seçilen Yaratık, insana hummalı bir okuma keyfi tattıran, elinizden bir an olsun bırakmak istemeyeceğiniz, o ender edebiyat başyapıtlarından biri.
Yazarın zihninde aralıklarla beliren ve gitgide vücut kazanan, tuhaf bir imgedir anlatılan. Soğuk, karanlık bir ilkbahar gününde, sonsuz kıraç toprakların ufuk çizgisinde yol alan küçük bir atlı kafile imgesi... gizemli bir kadının da dahil olduğu bu kafilenin bilmecelerle dolu yolculuğu... ve yolun sonundaki beklenmedik ölümün ardından gelen sorgulama... Sıradan bir polisiye olayın ötesine uzanıp metafizik boyutlara erişen ve bilimkurgusal tınılar da taşıyan girift bir anlatı.
Çağdaş İngiliz edebiyatının en önde gelen yazarları arasında sayılan John Fowles, Viktorya dönemi İngiltere'sinde geçen Fransız Teğmenin Kadını adlı ünlü romanında olduğu gibi, yine tarihsel bir arkaplanı romanına fon olarak seçiyor. Ama, amacı kesinlikle klasik anlamda tarihsel bir roman yazmak değil. Sade yaşantılarıyla kilise kurumunun otoritesine kökten karşı çıkışlarıyla tanınan, İsa'nın dünyaya yeniden bir "kadın" olarak geleceğini ileri süren, gündelik hayatlarında komünizan öğelere rastlanan, yoksulluğu ve cinsel perhizi savunan Shaker mezhebinin öğreti ve pratikleri üzerine temelleniyor roman. Ancak Fowles karşımıza, geçmişe gelecekten bakan ve o zamanın zihniyetini çağdaş bireyin moderniteyle yüklü, son derece karmaşık görüş açısından değerlendiren bir yazar kimliğiyle ortaya çıkıyor Yaratık'ta. Bir yandan, 18. yüzyıl İngiltere'sinin toplumsal tabakalaşmasına, törelerine, sınıf atlama yapılarına ilişkin çok ilginç ayrıntılar ortaya koyarken, bir yandan da, kurmaca bir yapıt meydana getirdiğinin bilincinde bir yazar olarak, sürükleyici hikâyeler anlatabilme yeteneğini seferber ediyor.
1985 yılında Fransa'da en iyi çeviri roman seçilen Yaratık, insana hummalı bir okuma keyfi tattıran, elinizden bir an olsun bırakmak istemeyeceğiniz, o ender edebiyat başyapıtlarından biri.
552 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1985
166 people are currently reading
4899 people want to read
About the author
John Fowles
115 books3,009 followersJohn Robert Fowles was born in Leigh-on-Sea, a small town in Essex. He recalled the English suburban culture of the 1930s as oppressively conformist and his family life as intensely conventional. Of his childhood, Fowles said "I have tried to escape ever since."
Fowles attended Bedford School, a large boarding school designed to prepare boys for university, from ages 13 to 18. After briefly attending the University of Edinburgh, Fowles began compulsory military service in 1945 with training at Dartmoor, where he spent the next two years. World War II ended shortly after his training began so Fowles never came near combat, and by 1947 he had decided that the military life was not for him.
Fowles then spent four years at Oxford, where he discovered the writings of the French existentialists. In particular he admired Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre, whose writings corresponded with his own ideas about conformity and the will of the individual. He received a degree in French in 1950 and began to consider a career as a writer.
Several teaching jobs followed: a year lecturing in English literature at the University of Poitiers, France; two years teaching English at Anargyrios College on the Greek island of Spetsai; and finally, between 1954 and 1963, teaching English at St. Godric's College in London, where he ultimately served as the department head.
The time spent in Greece was of great importance to Fowles. During his tenure on the island he began to write poetry and to overcome a long-time repression about writing. Between 1952 and 1960 he wrote several novels but offered none to a publisher, considering them all incomplete in some way and too lengthy.
In late 1960 Fowles completed the first draft of The Collector in just four weeks. He continued to revise it until the summer of 1962, when he submitted it to a publisher; it appeared in the spring of 1963 and was an immediate best-seller. The critical acclaim and commercial success of the book allowed Fowles to devote all of his time to writing.
The Aristos, a collection of philosophical thoughts and musings on art, human nature and other subjects, appeared the following year. Then in 1965, The Magus - drafts of which Fowles had been working on for over a decade - was published.
The most commercially successful of Fowles' novels, The French Lieutenant's Woman, appeared in 1969. It resembles a Victorian novel in structure and detail, while pushing the traditional boundaries of narrative in a very modern manner.
In the 1970s Fowles worked on a variety of literary projects--including a series of essays on nature--and in 1973 he published a collection of poetry, Poems.
Daniel Martin, a long and somewhat autobiographical novel spanning over 40 years in the life of a screenwriter, appeared in 1977, along with a revised version of The Magus. These were followed by Mantissa (1982), a fable about a novelist's struggle with his muse; and A Maggot (1985), an 18th century mystery which combines science fiction and history.
In addition to The Aristos, Fowles wrote a variety of non-fiction pieces including many essays, reviews, and forewords/afterwords to other writers' novels. He also wrote the text for several photographic compilations.
From 1968, Fowles lived in the small harbour town of Lyme Regis, Dorset. His interest in the town's local history resulted in his appointment as curator of the Lyme Regis Museum in 1979, a position he filled for a decade.
Wormholes, a book of essays, was published in May 1998. The first comprehensive biography on Fowles, John Fowles: A Life in Two Worlds, was published in 2004, and the first volume of his journals appeared the same year (followed recently by volume two).
John Fowles passed away on November 5, 2005 after a long illness.
Fowles attended Bedford School, a large boarding school designed to prepare boys for university, from ages 13 to 18. After briefly attending the University of Edinburgh, Fowles began compulsory military service in 1945 with training at Dartmoor, where he spent the next two years. World War II ended shortly after his training began so Fowles never came near combat, and by 1947 he had decided that the military life was not for him.
Fowles then spent four years at Oxford, where he discovered the writings of the French existentialists. In particular he admired Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre, whose writings corresponded with his own ideas about conformity and the will of the individual. He received a degree in French in 1950 and began to consider a career as a writer.
Several teaching jobs followed: a year lecturing in English literature at the University of Poitiers, France; two years teaching English at Anargyrios College on the Greek island of Spetsai; and finally, between 1954 and 1963, teaching English at St. Godric's College in London, where he ultimately served as the department head.
The time spent in Greece was of great importance to Fowles. During his tenure on the island he began to write poetry and to overcome a long-time repression about writing. Between 1952 and 1960 he wrote several novels but offered none to a publisher, considering them all incomplete in some way and too lengthy.
In late 1960 Fowles completed the first draft of The Collector in just four weeks. He continued to revise it until the summer of 1962, when he submitted it to a publisher; it appeared in the spring of 1963 and was an immediate best-seller. The critical acclaim and commercial success of the book allowed Fowles to devote all of his time to writing.
The Aristos, a collection of philosophical thoughts and musings on art, human nature and other subjects, appeared the following year. Then in 1965, The Magus - drafts of which Fowles had been working on for over a decade - was published.
The most commercially successful of Fowles' novels, The French Lieutenant's Woman, appeared in 1969. It resembles a Victorian novel in structure and detail, while pushing the traditional boundaries of narrative in a very modern manner.
In the 1970s Fowles worked on a variety of literary projects--including a series of essays on nature--and in 1973 he published a collection of poetry, Poems.
Daniel Martin, a long and somewhat autobiographical novel spanning over 40 years in the life of a screenwriter, appeared in 1977, along with a revised version of The Magus. These were followed by Mantissa (1982), a fable about a novelist's struggle with his muse; and A Maggot (1985), an 18th century mystery which combines science fiction and history.
In addition to The Aristos, Fowles wrote a variety of non-fiction pieces including many essays, reviews, and forewords/afterwords to other writers' novels. He also wrote the text for several photographic compilations.
From 1968, Fowles lived in the small harbour town of Lyme Regis, Dorset. His interest in the town's local history resulted in his appointment as curator of the Lyme Regis Museum in 1979, a position he filled for a decade.
Wormholes, a book of essays, was published in May 1998. The first comprehensive biography on Fowles, John Fowles: A Life in Two Worlds, was published in 2004, and the first volume of his journals appeared the same year (followed recently by volume two).
John Fowles passed away on November 5, 2005 after a long illness.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 233 reviews
April 6, 2023
“And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose.” Genesis 6:1-2
A Maggot is an recondite mystical mystery…
Mysterious travellers moving to mysterious destination… Desolation and despondency…
To me the novel is an odd allusion to The Book of Enoch… All those portals of the heaven… Conundrums… Alien presence… And the fallen angels fornicating with the daughters of man…
Many enigmatic phenomena in the world could never be explained…
A Maggot is an recondite mystical mystery…
A man in his late twenties, in a dark bistre greatcoat, boots and a tricorn hat, its upturned edges trimmed discreetly in silver braid, leads the silent caravan… Behind him, on a stouter beast, sit two people: a bareheaded man in a long-sleeved blouse, heavy drugget jerkin and leather breeches, his long hair tied in a knot, with in front of him, sitting sideways and resting against his breast – he supports her back with his right arm – a young woman.
Mysterious travellers moving to mysterious destination… Desolation and despondency…
To me the novel is an odd allusion to The Book of Enoch… All those portals of the heaven… Conundrums… Alien presence… And the fallen angels fornicating with the daughters of man…
Q. This figure did not pounce upon her? She felt nothing, no touch upon her, beside the warm air?
A. No, sir. I did ask, and she said not. She’d have said, if she had, for she feared as much again as she told me, she could not forget it.
Q. Who thought she this figure was, this buzzard blackamoor?
A. The King of Hell, sir, the Prince of Darkness.
Q. Satan himself, the Devil?
A. Yes, sir.
Many enigmatic phenomena in the world could never be explained…
August 11, 2025
Dazzling. The best I've read of him. On second reading, the novel holds up remarkably well. It seems at first a study in the perpetuation of literary suspense. The book jumps between third-person narration; a kind of mock-legal deposition which permits multiple narrative voices; essayistic asides, and epistolary elements. The third-person voice often refers to the gap between events at the time of the story--the 1730s--and our present day. For example: "Closer,...groups of children noisily played lamp-loo and tutball, those primitive forms of tag and baseball. Modern lovers of the second game would have been shocked to see that here it was preponderantly played by girls (and perhaps to know that its traditional prize, for the most skilled, was not the million-dollar contract, but a mere tansy pudding.)"
The novel begins with a tableau of five individuals, four of them male, of varying ages, who make a journey to the west of England on horseback. There is an uncle, his nephew, and three servants, one female. We come across them as they travel a muddy road to a bleak village. It is there at the musty inn, and later in a nearby cave, that much of the action occurs; action that will later be dissected by way of a series of legal depositions run by the dwarfish (and hateful) London lawyer, Henry Ayscough. We learn a few things during the interrogations: that nephew and uncle are in fact unrelated; that the nephew is the true leader of the excursion; that the uncle is an actor by profession; that the maid is a prostitute; that one of the servants is deaf and dumb; and so forth. Only the nephew who is not a nephew knows the true purpose of the trip, which for most of the book remains a mystery. We also know that the nephew believes he has hit on a mathematical device or formula that once fully developed will allow him to foretell the future. That is to say, he's crazy as a loon. Still, what can it mean? Why the trip? Why the subsequent investigation? And where has everyone gone? Slowly, one by one, at the behest of the nephew's aristocratic father, the lawyer tracks down all of the participants save one. And in a question and answer format that allows no room for description, or authorial commentary, he painstakingly gets a story. But is it the story? That's a very good question and in large part the novel's point, questioning narrative constructs as it does.
It is the prostitute's deposition that for this reader was the most engrossing. For since her excursion to the cave she has given up whoring and has returned to the Quaker community of her parents in Manchester, fully forgiven. What she experienced during that journey she interprets, perhaps the only way she knows how, as an ecstatic Christian experience. She has been vouchsafed a vision of heaven and hell. Christianity is the only tool she has for interpreting such a fantastic experience. And there's no doubt that she thinks her story is truth. Lawyer Ayscough can not shake her from it. Nor can he believe it. And in the end is shaken himself. Like her, he is limited, by virtue of his place in time, to viewing it as nothing more than religious hysteria. The 21st century reader, however, sees what has happened in the cave as something quite different. I'll stop there. Like Fowles' French Lieutenant's Woman, the narrative toys with metafictional devices, but never to the point where they distract. Oh, yes, you'll have to read this one.
The novel begins with a tableau of five individuals, four of them male, of varying ages, who make a journey to the west of England on horseback. There is an uncle, his nephew, and three servants, one female. We come across them as they travel a muddy road to a bleak village. It is there at the musty inn, and later in a nearby cave, that much of the action occurs; action that will later be dissected by way of a series of legal depositions run by the dwarfish (and hateful) London lawyer, Henry Ayscough. We learn a few things during the interrogations: that nephew and uncle are in fact unrelated; that the nephew is the true leader of the excursion; that the uncle is an actor by profession; that the maid is a prostitute; that one of the servants is deaf and dumb; and so forth. Only the nephew who is not a nephew knows the true purpose of the trip, which for most of the book remains a mystery. We also know that the nephew believes he has hit on a mathematical device or formula that once fully developed will allow him to foretell the future. That is to say, he's crazy as a loon. Still, what can it mean? Why the trip? Why the subsequent investigation? And where has everyone gone? Slowly, one by one, at the behest of the nephew's aristocratic father, the lawyer tracks down all of the participants save one. And in a question and answer format that allows no room for description, or authorial commentary, he painstakingly gets a story. But is it the story? That's a very good question and in large part the novel's point, questioning narrative constructs as it does.
It is the prostitute's deposition that for this reader was the most engrossing. For since her excursion to the cave she has given up whoring and has returned to the Quaker community of her parents in Manchester, fully forgiven. What she experienced during that journey she interprets, perhaps the only way she knows how, as an ecstatic Christian experience. She has been vouchsafed a vision of heaven and hell. Christianity is the only tool she has for interpreting such a fantastic experience. And there's no doubt that she thinks her story is truth. Lawyer Ayscough can not shake her from it. Nor can he believe it. And in the end is shaken himself. Like her, he is limited, by virtue of his place in time, to viewing it as nothing more than religious hysteria. The 21st century reader, however, sees what has happened in the cave as something quite different. I'll stop there. Like Fowles' French Lieutenant's Woman, the narrative toys with metafictional devices, but never to the point where they distract. Oh, yes, you'll have to read this one.
March 18, 2018
i tried reading this when i was 15, i think around the time it first came out. perhaps i was too ambitious, because the novel was too much for me, and i gave up. i suppose i just didn't get it. but i can be competitive - even with books, even with myself. so i promised young mark monday that the battle wasn't over, that i'd return to re-engage 25 years later, when i had become an old, wise man...and i would eventually conquer this one.
well, mark, it is now 25 years later.
__________
...and so i promptly lost my original paperback right after i started reading it - after holding on to it for 25 frickin' years! it took time to get a new copy.
but now that i'm finished with this one, i'm not even sure what to say. a lot of different things went on in my head when reading this. it is pretty one-of-a-kind. i think i'll give it some time to sink in before i write a real review. overall: a fascinating, challenging, often off-putting, dryly humorous, always intriguing experience. but after all the headiness, i think i need to read a kid's novel to rinse the intellectual palate, so to speak.
__________
well, it's a few days after the above. today i've been enjoying my favorite Kate Bush songs on my back patio and at one point was surprised to recall that i had fully enjoyed these bizarre and challenging songs way back in high school, back when A Maggot was so intimidating. and so i became embarrassed at avoiding the review at hand. thanks Kate for the guilt trip!
the story
five figures in a landscape, traveling on horseback to an unknown destination. they do not speak; they exist, at first, simply as enigmas to contemplate. a nobleman. his faux-uncle, an actor. his manservant, or lover. a maid - or, perhaps, a whore. a soldier - or, perhaps, a lifetime liar. it is May 1736, in England. three will return, one will be found dead, the last will have disappeared without a trace.
the style
i have read many times over that Fowles has a style that is challenging... prose that is dense and oblique, narratives that often veer off confusingly into the metaphysical, a guiding hand that shows little to no interest in offering the reader their more traditional pleasures. A Maggot is all of those things. it is a journey that ends in a kind of transcendence; it is a narrative that has no interest in answering your questions, silly reader. and yet this is by no means a difficult book to read - the difficulty lies in digesting and understanding any or all of its myriad implications.
roughly three-quarters of the novel is in the question-and-answer format of a police interrogation and police procedural, except in this case the questioner is a curmudgeonly, reactionary, cynical old lawyer, with interests clearly vested in the keeping of station - the poor with the poor, the rich (his client, the nobleman's father - a Duke) firmly with the rich. there should be no challenge to the capable reader during these parts - the format allows all stories to be told in a reassuring first-person format, the tales told are straightforward (but only in the telling), and there are many acidic comments from the dear aged lawyer to enjoy, to roll around the tongue and then say out loud, with the utmost haughty, lawyerly disdain.
interspersed between, before, and after these long interviews are sequences that can best be described with that hoary adjective, Brechtian. these parts are striking in what they do not tell. they view the actions and words of our characters at a firm distance, as players in a play that the reader has stumbled upon halfway, the activities a tableau rather than a display of actual movement. it seems intended to distance the reader, to force contemplation, and in that it certainly succeeds. perhaps too well... the tactic can be off-putting. the intent appears to be to separate emotion from content, to allow the reader to decipher entirely on their own the motives and meaning of what they see displayed before them... and in that the method is clearly successful.
now i have to wonder why i was unable to finish this back in high school. this is not the most difficult of books. well, who knows. perhaps i was too shallow and more interested in fast-paced genre fiction. i suppose things have not changed too much on that front.
the ideas
so what is this novel about? well, now is the time to answer questions with questions.
is it indeed a police procedural? at that it succeeds, in spades. the mystery is palpable, the truth seems just around the corner. lies are told and liars are caught in them. the death is a suicide or a murder. the party of five are many things and none of them what they appear. at first it appears to be an intrigue of surprisingly cozy proportions. surely this mystery can be solved? the lawyer seems to think it all hinges upon a secret gay relationship between intense young nobleman and mute, well-hung manservant. silly lawyer!
is this a tale of witchcraft and dire deeds in a dark and eerie cavern? one of the tales told is explicitly so. it all becomes so clear to the reader accustomed to fantasy and horror during this very long sequence - at last, the truth comes out! it is a very well-constructed trap for the reader who demands an answer and who somehow equates vivid tales of perverse enchantment with an actual answer. and by "the reader", i am of course speaking of myself. it was certainly satisfying on the level of having an answer that turned out to be enjoyably dreadful, perversely erotic, and full of grim fantasia. it is an almost comfortably relayed tale of easily recognized horrors and i swallowed it whole - until i realized i was barely halfway finished with the book. i wondered: so now that the truth is out, what is left to tell? and then this familiar answer to the mystery began to seem unreal, the explanation began to unravel. it became a straw man, a paper tiger, a stalking horse.
is this a tale of time travel, the future not just looking upon the past, but stepping in to mold that past, to create the future? the vision of a silvery "maggot" - in essence, a silver spaceship, complete with futuristic dials and knobs, strange fabrics, and viewing screens that show scenes that could never be seen in the viewer's lifetime - is a wonderfully clever nod to the trappings of science fiction. alas, no doubt 'tis another feint.
is this a treatise on the inherent lack of godliness in any class-based system, in organized religion, in the lack of equality between the genders? yes, it is. dynamically so. angrily so.
is this a vaguely postmodern whimsy on the roots and beginnings of Shakerism? the end of the novel is nearly a love poem to one of the most fascinating religious figures i have had the pleasure of learning about - the Shaker proselytizer Anna Lee. have you ever heard of the Shakers, outside of their excellence at furniture-building? i have, but then in my early youth i was raised in some aspects of the Quaker faith, from which many of the Shaker tenets developed. if you haven't heard of the Shakers, look them up! their belief system is truly compelling, not least in their unshakable conviction that equality between the genders was an absolute for truly living in God's world. an admirable belief! they even thought that Jesus may return in the form of a woman, which was surely a beyond-radical concept for the time (and may still be so). and those Shakers danced! thus the name "Shakers". they danced and sang in crazy, awesome concentric circles. just about the only thing that i find questionable about the faith is their determination that all forms of sexuality, of carnality, were the devil's work. so... no sex. ever. not even for procreation.
is this a tale of transcendence, a vision of the world as God intended, a reclamation of a lost soul, a transfiguration of sorts? such is the final tale, and no doubt the one closest to the truth. have our key players transcended, either shedding their physical form and earthly existence for the beyond or shedding the grossly carnal and materialistic forms of their current lives for something finer, something richer in spirituality, community, equality, and destiny? well, let me just tell you this: do not expect an answer to your questions. expect to be forced to think, and not to be led to the well to drink. expect a certain lack of satisfaction, a clear lack of narrative resolution. expect to be... frustrated.
the title
is A Maggot "a maggot"? in the intro, Fowles recalls the obsolete definition of the word: namely, "a whim, a quirk". this is perhaps the only interpretation with which i resolutely disagree. A Maggot is far from a whim. its intentions are too serious, its possible meaning too compelling, too multi-leveled. unlike a mere whim, it exists to be contemplated seriously. its ideas are no fanciful quirk; indeed, it is a puzzle for the mind (and soul), an almost brazen challenge from beginning to end.
__________
the Kate Bush
apropos of nothing at all, here are my Top 10 Kate Bush songs:
(by the way, the videos are actually horrible. so incredibly dated, pretentious, almost unbearable to watch. and yet i love these songs!)
Leave It Open
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlMD_...
Running Up That Hill
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wp43Od...
Army Dreamers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOZDKl...
Get Out Of My House
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMDgvx...
Wuthering Heights
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNUDu...
James and the Cold Gun
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5c_2Ql...
Hammer Horror
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XR4Knf...
Coffee Homeground
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vp0qi8...
Ken
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Opl8t...
This Woman's Work
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TupvV...
well, mark, it is now 25 years later.
__________
...and so i promptly lost my original paperback right after i started reading it - after holding on to it for 25 frickin' years! it took time to get a new copy.
but now that i'm finished with this one, i'm not even sure what to say. a lot of different things went on in my head when reading this. it is pretty one-of-a-kind. i think i'll give it some time to sink in before i write a real review. overall: a fascinating, challenging, often off-putting, dryly humorous, always intriguing experience. but after all the headiness, i think i need to read a kid's novel to rinse the intellectual palate, so to speak.
__________
well, it's a few days after the above. today i've been enjoying my favorite Kate Bush songs on my back patio and at one point was surprised to recall that i had fully enjoyed these bizarre and challenging songs way back in high school, back when A Maggot was so intimidating. and so i became embarrassed at avoiding the review at hand. thanks Kate for the guilt trip!
the story
five figures in a landscape, traveling on horseback to an unknown destination. they do not speak; they exist, at first, simply as enigmas to contemplate. a nobleman. his faux-uncle, an actor. his manservant, or lover. a maid - or, perhaps, a whore. a soldier - or, perhaps, a lifetime liar. it is May 1736, in England. three will return, one will be found dead, the last will have disappeared without a trace.
the style
i have read many times over that Fowles has a style that is challenging... prose that is dense and oblique, narratives that often veer off confusingly into the metaphysical, a guiding hand that shows little to no interest in offering the reader their more traditional pleasures. A Maggot is all of those things. it is a journey that ends in a kind of transcendence; it is a narrative that has no interest in answering your questions, silly reader. and yet this is by no means a difficult book to read - the difficulty lies in digesting and understanding any or all of its myriad implications.
roughly three-quarters of the novel is in the question-and-answer format of a police interrogation and police procedural, except in this case the questioner is a curmudgeonly, reactionary, cynical old lawyer, with interests clearly vested in the keeping of station - the poor with the poor, the rich (his client, the nobleman's father - a Duke) firmly with the rich. there should be no challenge to the capable reader during these parts - the format allows all stories to be told in a reassuring first-person format, the tales told are straightforward (but only in the telling), and there are many acidic comments from the dear aged lawyer to enjoy, to roll around the tongue and then say out loud, with the utmost haughty, lawyerly disdain.
interspersed between, before, and after these long interviews are sequences that can best be described with that hoary adjective, Brechtian. these parts are striking in what they do not tell. they view the actions and words of our characters at a firm distance, as players in a play that the reader has stumbled upon halfway, the activities a tableau rather than a display of actual movement. it seems intended to distance the reader, to force contemplation, and in that it certainly succeeds. perhaps too well... the tactic can be off-putting. the intent appears to be to separate emotion from content, to allow the reader to decipher entirely on their own the motives and meaning of what they see displayed before them... and in that the method is clearly successful.
now i have to wonder why i was unable to finish this back in high school. this is not the most difficult of books. well, who knows. perhaps i was too shallow and more interested in fast-paced genre fiction. i suppose things have not changed too much on that front.
the ideas
so what is this novel about? well, now is the time to answer questions with questions.
is it indeed a police procedural? at that it succeeds, in spades. the mystery is palpable, the truth seems just around the corner. lies are told and liars are caught in them. the death is a suicide or a murder. the party of five are many things and none of them what they appear. at first it appears to be an intrigue of surprisingly cozy proportions. surely this mystery can be solved? the lawyer seems to think it all hinges upon a secret gay relationship between intense young nobleman and mute, well-hung manservant. silly lawyer!
is this a tale of witchcraft and dire deeds in a dark and eerie cavern? one of the tales told is explicitly so. it all becomes so clear to the reader accustomed to fantasy and horror during this very long sequence - at last, the truth comes out! it is a very well-constructed trap for the reader who demands an answer and who somehow equates vivid tales of perverse enchantment with an actual answer. and by "the reader", i am of course speaking of myself. it was certainly satisfying on the level of having an answer that turned out to be enjoyably dreadful, perversely erotic, and full of grim fantasia. it is an almost comfortably relayed tale of easily recognized horrors and i swallowed it whole - until i realized i was barely halfway finished with the book. i wondered: so now that the truth is out, what is left to tell? and then this familiar answer to the mystery began to seem unreal, the explanation began to unravel. it became a straw man, a paper tiger, a stalking horse.
is this a tale of time travel, the future not just looking upon the past, but stepping in to mold that past, to create the future? the vision of a silvery "maggot" - in essence, a silver spaceship, complete with futuristic dials and knobs, strange fabrics, and viewing screens that show scenes that could never be seen in the viewer's lifetime - is a wonderfully clever nod to the trappings of science fiction. alas, no doubt 'tis another feint.
is this a treatise on the inherent lack of godliness in any class-based system, in organized religion, in the lack of equality between the genders? yes, it is. dynamically so. angrily so.
is this a vaguely postmodern whimsy on the roots and beginnings of Shakerism? the end of the novel is nearly a love poem to one of the most fascinating religious figures i have had the pleasure of learning about - the Shaker proselytizer Anna Lee. have you ever heard of the Shakers, outside of their excellence at furniture-building? i have, but then in my early youth i was raised in some aspects of the Quaker faith, from which many of the Shaker tenets developed. if you haven't heard of the Shakers, look them up! their belief system is truly compelling, not least in their unshakable conviction that equality between the genders was an absolute for truly living in God's world. an admirable belief! they even thought that Jesus may return in the form of a woman, which was surely a beyond-radical concept for the time (and may still be so). and those Shakers danced! thus the name "Shakers". they danced and sang in crazy, awesome concentric circles. just about the only thing that i find questionable about the faith is their determination that all forms of sexuality, of carnality, were the devil's work. so... no sex. ever. not even for procreation.
is this a tale of transcendence, a vision of the world as God intended, a reclamation of a lost soul, a transfiguration of sorts? such is the final tale, and no doubt the one closest to the truth. have our key players transcended, either shedding their physical form and earthly existence for the beyond or shedding the grossly carnal and materialistic forms of their current lives for something finer, something richer in spirituality, community, equality, and destiny? well, let me just tell you this: do not expect an answer to your questions. expect to be forced to think, and not to be led to the well to drink. expect a certain lack of satisfaction, a clear lack of narrative resolution. expect to be... frustrated.
the title
is A Maggot "a maggot"? in the intro, Fowles recalls the obsolete definition of the word: namely, "a whim, a quirk". this is perhaps the only interpretation with which i resolutely disagree. A Maggot is far from a whim. its intentions are too serious, its possible meaning too compelling, too multi-leveled. unlike a mere whim, it exists to be contemplated seriously. its ideas are no fanciful quirk; indeed, it is a puzzle for the mind (and soul), an almost brazen challenge from beginning to end.
__________
the Kate Bush
apropos of nothing at all, here are my Top 10 Kate Bush songs:
(by the way, the videos are actually horrible. so incredibly dated, pretentious, almost unbearable to watch. and yet i love these songs!)
Leave It Open
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlMD_...
Running Up That Hill
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wp43Od...
Army Dreamers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOZDKl...
Get Out Of My House
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMDgvx...
Wuthering Heights
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNUDu...
James and the Cold Gun
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5c_2Ql...
Hammer Horror
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XR4Knf...
Coffee Homeground
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vp0qi8...
Ken
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Opl8t...
This Woman's Work
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TupvV...
October 3, 2023
What starts off as a simple journey; an unknown journey shrouded in secrecy, by horseback across meadows, hills, streams, and small towns in the southwest of England, abruptly turned into something more like a courtroom drama. It's the 1700s, so took a while to get used to the old style language - Art thou, and all. (Maybe should have read some Shakespeare prior). After that, I was completely absorbed by a mystery as different accounts; the testimonies of witnesses, are made to the strange events that took place in rural Devon that saw a lord in disguise (Mr Bartholomew) disappear without a trace; his deaf and dumb male servant found swinging from a rope; and his maid (we learn, a reformed harlot) seen screaming and running from the mouth of a witchy looking cavern by their Welsh bodyguard. There is an actor too, hired to help protect the disguise but he parts company early before a biblical and prophetic surreal sci-fi-esque incident in the cave - I really can't say any more other than it blew my mind, is revealed. Of course, being duly sworn under oath to tell the truth doesn't mean that's what you are precisely going to get. Stories and lies are mixed with elements of certainty, so it's up to each reader to believe what they want to believe. It works similar in some ways to Ryūnosuke Akutagawa's classic short story 'In a Grove', although this is much more unorthodox in narrative structure. I thought it all brilliantly conceived and it really had me hooked; so much so that some nights it pushed me way past my bedtime; however, I can't lie, the sci-fi moment near the end felt so out of touch with what went before. I'd best describe this as a metafictional mystery that has its roots in faith and God, and of sins and redemption. It's certainly more postmodern fiction that it is historical. Most of all though, I found it to be a strong feminist piece; as like The French Lieutenant's Woman it's a female that dominates the book. The maid, Rebecca Lee, is the key to the whole novel really. Which after having read the epilogue as to the reasons why Fowles wrote her in it, makes more sense. A Maggot Left more questions than answers in the end but that can sometimes be a good thing. Still, it certainly isn't on the same level of The French Lieutenant's Woman.
April 12, 2023
The make-believe history is a well-known trick of the postmodernist literature. Here we have a celebrated criminal in Margaret Atwood’s “Alias Grace”, a famous gangster in Mircea Mihaes’ “Woman in Red”, a brought to life portrait in Tracy Chevalier’s “Girl with a Pearl Earring”, and in all these novels and others reality and fiction are blended beyond recognition, to create literature’s second reality. A sort of non-fiction novels, to borrow Truman Capote’s very deceptive term.
However, whether the above-mentioned works concentrate upon the historical figure itself, John Fowles imagines only its background, his novel illustrating, apparently, what made Anne Lee become the founder of the Shakers.
I said apparently because this could be an interpretation of sorts, but of course things are never as simple as they appear in a postmodernist book. History is only a source like any other, but the credibility factor doesn’t function in the same way. The truth of art has nothing to do with the historical truth, even when it copies its methods of investigation.
And the methods ARE similar to those used by a historian or a detective in quest for the truth. The disappearance of an important personage is investigated thoroughly, which gives the narrator the perfect pretext to exercise different styles: juridical, administrative, journalistic, epistolary, dramaturgic, scientific, he tries them all with the same dexterity and all are maggots, possibilities. Just as the many layers of the narrative: historical (the cuts from Historical Chronicle 1736, the information about economy, population, garments in 18th century England, etc.); science-fictional (the maggot-like machine and the time travel), religious (the Quakers, the Protestants, etc.), detective (Ayscough’s investigation) all novels in nuce, hence – maggots.
Last but not least, both in Prologue and Epilogue, the narrator reveals his sources (the obsession with an image, a picture of a woman and Anne Lee’s origins) insisting upon the same idea that the book is only a maggot. Because a work of art never leaves the artist’s hands fully developed, consequently needing the public to maturate? Or because everything has to grow, beings and ideas?
On the other hand, the main character of the book also mentions the maggot twice: first, as a symbol of decay, punishment and death, second as an instrument of salvation. And the last words of the novel refer to it, too:
A divine maggot – that is, the Logos born under the writer’s quill but growing in significance under the readers’ eyes.
However, whether the above-mentioned works concentrate upon the historical figure itself, John Fowles imagines only its background, his novel illustrating, apparently, what made Anne Lee become the founder of the Shakers.
I said apparently because this could be an interpretation of sorts, but of course things are never as simple as they appear in a postmodernist book. History is only a source like any other, but the credibility factor doesn’t function in the same way. The truth of art has nothing to do with the historical truth, even when it copies its methods of investigation.
And the methods ARE similar to those used by a historian or a detective in quest for the truth. The disappearance of an important personage is investigated thoroughly, which gives the narrator the perfect pretext to exercise different styles: juridical, administrative, journalistic, epistolary, dramaturgic, scientific, he tries them all with the same dexterity and all are maggots, possibilities. Just as the many layers of the narrative: historical (the cuts from Historical Chronicle 1736, the information about economy, population, garments in 18th century England, etc.); science-fictional (the maggot-like machine and the time travel), religious (the Quakers, the Protestants, etc.), detective (Ayscough’s investigation) all novels in nuce, hence – maggots.
Last but not least, both in Prologue and Epilogue, the narrator reveals his sources (the obsession with an image, a picture of a woman and Anne Lee’s origins) insisting upon the same idea that the book is only a maggot. Because a work of art never leaves the artist’s hands fully developed, consequently needing the public to maturate? Or because everything has to grow, beings and ideas?
On the other hand, the main character of the book also mentions the maggot twice: first, as a symbol of decay, punishment and death, second as an instrument of salvation. And the last words of the novel refer to it, too:
I mourn not the outward form, but the lost spirit, courage and imagination of Mother Ann Lee's word, her Logos; its almost divine maggot.
A divine maggot – that is, the Logos born under the writer’s quill but growing in significance under the readers’ eyes.
August 30, 2025
A genre-defying mystery that begins as historical fiction but, very late in the narrative, introduces a strange fantasy element. Mostly told through a legal narrative, the story challenged me to consider what Fowles was trying to achieve. We are asked to contemplate a cave, a hanging, a disappearance, and a possible gods/alien encounter. Religious belief plays a large role in how I might be expected to interpret what has happened. Possible gods/alien encounter? I have no idea.
This is the usual cerebral Fowles novel.
The initial events in this novel take place in Devon, England, and there is certainly well-researched reference to the region—such as the breed of sheep, Exmoor Horns, and historical events like the Monmouth Rebellion. One of the more interesting names, however, is the surname of the inn landlord, Puddicombe. I can trace my family tree back to Fremington in Devon, with one of my three-times-great-grandmothers being Hannah Puddicombe. From her, I can find the family in the same part of Devon as early as the late 1680s.
I liked this book a heck of a lot, but it is not the place to start if going to read Fowles so with that would only recommend to completists.
This is the usual cerebral Fowles novel.
The initial events in this novel take place in Devon, England, and there is certainly well-researched reference to the region—such as the breed of sheep, Exmoor Horns, and historical events like the Monmouth Rebellion. One of the more interesting names, however, is the surname of the inn landlord, Puddicombe. I can trace my family tree back to Fremington in Devon, with one of my three-times-great-grandmothers being Hannah Puddicombe. From her, I can find the family in the same part of Devon as early as the late 1680s.
I liked this book a heck of a lot, but it is not the place to start if going to read Fowles so with that would only recommend to completists.
May 18, 2020
Fowles'a pek hatırlamadığım bu kitabıyla döndüm. Şimdi okumadığım Mantissa'yı, atladığım denemelerini, ardından pek sevdiğim Büyücü, Koleksiyoncu ve Fransız Teğmenin Kadını'nı yeniden okuma zamanı. Bu yazımızı da Fowles'a dönerek geçirelim bakalım.
October 16, 2017
Apparently, A Maggot was the result of two dicisive factors. The one was the clear, yet uninvited image that once popped into Fowles' mind, of a group of people travelling on horseback in the middle of nowhere, as he informs us in the prologue. The other one was his admiration for Ann Lee, the founder of a strict yet especially alternative religious group, the Shakers. Although an atheist, Fowles had enough clarity to discern the wisdom behind their religious practices and acknowledge the necessity of the new in opposition to the old. The creation of something that takes us one step further from the obsolete corpse of a past state.
What starts as a whodunnit mystery novel, soon takes a turn towards far more obscure and deep paths. The biggest part of the novel is written in the form of an interview, as the lawyer questions the various suspects in order to uncover the truth behind the servant's death and the mysterious disappearance of a certain prominent person. In between these interrogations, there are parts of a somewhat detached, script-like third-person narrative which, as it seemed to me, serve as a way to sober the reader and temporarily relieve them of all their emotional processes, in order to make space for new ones. Like an emotional flush of some sort. They also give the author the chance to state some of his views on the society of the past and the -not so different- one of the present.
As is the case with both of the other of his works I've read (The Magus and The Collector), A Maggot's plot is mostly developed through the perspective of its characters. Which means that what we read is what they perceive as the truth. Which also means that few things are actually cleared up in the end and what matters most is what the reader makes of what is written. Another characteristic of Fowles' writing that is present here, is the fight between two sociological and historical tendencies, expressed through the characters. Indeed, Fowles' characters are not just fictional people. They're symbols that concentrate in them entire theories, movements, philosophies and historical turbulences. When two of them converse, it's like the clash of two armies of which only one will remain standing in the end, and not without casualties.
The more of his books I read, the more I see that not only his storytelling, but also his genius use of semiotics make Fowles one of the most brilliant, if not as famous as he deserved perhaps, writers of the late 20th century, and A Maggot is yet another example of his brilliance.
What starts as a whodunnit mystery novel, soon takes a turn towards far more obscure and deep paths. The biggest part of the novel is written in the form of an interview, as the lawyer questions the various suspects in order to uncover the truth behind the servant's death and the mysterious disappearance of a certain prominent person. In between these interrogations, there are parts of a somewhat detached, script-like third-person narrative which, as it seemed to me, serve as a way to sober the reader and temporarily relieve them of all their emotional processes, in order to make space for new ones. Like an emotional flush of some sort. They also give the author the chance to state some of his views on the society of the past and the -not so different- one of the present.
As is the case with both of the other of his works I've read (The Magus and The Collector), A Maggot's plot is mostly developed through the perspective of its characters. Which means that what we read is what they perceive as the truth. Which also means that few things are actually cleared up in the end and what matters most is what the reader makes of what is written. Another characteristic of Fowles' writing that is present here, is the fight between two sociological and historical tendencies, expressed through the characters. Indeed, Fowles' characters are not just fictional people. They're symbols that concentrate in them entire theories, movements, philosophies and historical turbulences. When two of them converse, it's like the clash of two armies of which only one will remain standing in the end, and not without casualties.
The more of his books I read, the more I see that not only his storytelling, but also his genius use of semiotics make Fowles one of the most brilliant, if not as famous as he deserved perhaps, writers of the late 20th century, and A Maggot is yet another example of his brilliance.
August 18, 2012
_A Maggot_ is an interesting novel. It can be approached as an historical mystery, a meta-fictional experiment of mixed narrative form and genre, and a meditation on the injustices inherent in the 18th century social, political and religious mindset. The story proper details a mysterious journey undertaken by five individuals across the English landscape whose destination and purpose is unknown. In addition to this each of the individuals is not what they appear, and may not even be what they themselves think they are. This ‘simple’ mystery plot form is expressed with a variety of narrative techniques: a somewhat distant 3rd person with occasional authorial asides taking place “now” interspersing longer passages of first person question-and-answer that are occurring in the “then” of 18th century England. As the story progresses the reader begins to see that even the genre boundaries of mystery and historical fiction are being crossed and significant possible elements of science fiction begin to creep into the tale.
Accepting this novel at face value as a historical mystery would be a mistake, especially since it seems to be a mystery whose whole purpose is not to be unravelled. Rather the mystery ‘plot’ is the vehicle which allows Fowles to show how each character’s own conception of this mystery of which they are a part, and its possible solutions, is determined by their own social standing and personal background, by the hidebound preconceptions they each bring to their experience of the world. These disparate characters allow Fowles to put on display a particular aspect of human society that he perceives as having been distinctly strong in 18th century society due to its make-up, but that still exists today: that we are determined by our perceptions and expectations. The question and answer segments are particularly useful in this regard for making explicit how differently each character interprets the same events; how they look to the expected, the known, or the conventional, in order to explain something that is beyond their experience. Even the visionary falls back onto traditional (to her) paradigms in order to be able to interpret her life-changing experience.
The juxtaposition of perceptions and assumptions of the modern era (as witnessed in the 3rd person intrusions) with those of the 18th century when the novel takes place are well done, and seem central to the novel. These are characters who very much feel like authentic inhabitants of their era. Their modes of speaking and even of thought are truly alien to the modern reader in many ways. As a result Fowles is able to use these differences to indulge in his thematic hobby-horses of free will vs. pre-destination, the fear of change vs. the need to progress, and unthinking acceptance vs. the belief that change can and must be effected. These are ideas that many of us take for granted, but Fowles shows how new and strange many of these concepts were when the novel takes place and they were still in their larval stages. Another major cultural difference between the reader and those whom the book purports to represent is seen in Fowles’ notion that their sense of individuality is not even close to our own (would not even be considered as “individuality” at all by our standards). Fowles goes so far as to draw comparisons between the constraints of people from this era and those of a character in a book, the “plot” of their lives pre-determined according to their role and function in society (certainly if born below a certain social level), and harps on the fact that this was utterly natural to them, something which the vast majority of the people of the day would not even consider an issue worth considering. It is an intriguing idea and allows the more obvious meta aspects of the narrative to gain a further level of depth. Ironically Fowles notes both explicitly and implicitly that that the “birth” of the individual, one of the key elements that broke up the injustices inherent in the 18th century social, political and religious mindset, was as much a blessing as a curse.
All that being said I still found the book to be one I felt more obliged to finish than one that carried me along with the rush of its passage. At times the question and answer sections of the novel seemed to carry on too long and the 3rd person narrative parts could perhaps have been more liberally interspersed into the text than they were. I can accept that not all mysteries have to have a solution, but the utter lack of any real understanding of what happened in that cave in western England, and the impenetrable nature of the young lord’s real purpose and end, is certainly frustrating. In the end I guess I would consider this a highly successful meditation on the birth of modernity and the ways in which we have both learned from, and ignored to our peril, the lessons of the past, but only a moderately successful novel. I think David Mitchell would have written something on the same subject and with the same elements with just as much depth, but that was much more interesting.
Accepting this novel at face value as a historical mystery would be a mistake, especially since it seems to be a mystery whose whole purpose is not to be unravelled. Rather the mystery ‘plot’ is the vehicle which allows Fowles to show how each character’s own conception of this mystery of which they are a part, and its possible solutions, is determined by their own social standing and personal background, by the hidebound preconceptions they each bring to their experience of the world. These disparate characters allow Fowles to put on display a particular aspect of human society that he perceives as having been distinctly strong in 18th century society due to its make-up, but that still exists today: that we are determined by our perceptions and expectations. The question and answer segments are particularly useful in this regard for making explicit how differently each character interprets the same events; how they look to the expected, the known, or the conventional, in order to explain something that is beyond their experience. Even the visionary falls back onto traditional (to her) paradigms in order to be able to interpret her life-changing experience.
The juxtaposition of perceptions and assumptions of the modern era (as witnessed in the 3rd person intrusions) with those of the 18th century when the novel takes place are well done, and seem central to the novel. These are characters who very much feel like authentic inhabitants of their era. Their modes of speaking and even of thought are truly alien to the modern reader in many ways. As a result Fowles is able to use these differences to indulge in his thematic hobby-horses of free will vs. pre-destination, the fear of change vs. the need to progress, and unthinking acceptance vs. the belief that change can and must be effected. These are ideas that many of us take for granted, but Fowles shows how new and strange many of these concepts were when the novel takes place and they were still in their larval stages. Another major cultural difference between the reader and those whom the book purports to represent is seen in Fowles’ notion that their sense of individuality is not even close to our own (would not even be considered as “individuality” at all by our standards). Fowles goes so far as to draw comparisons between the constraints of people from this era and those of a character in a book, the “plot” of their lives pre-determined according to their role and function in society (certainly if born below a certain social level), and harps on the fact that this was utterly natural to them, something which the vast majority of the people of the day would not even consider an issue worth considering. It is an intriguing idea and allows the more obvious meta aspects of the narrative to gain a further level of depth. Ironically Fowles notes both explicitly and implicitly that that the “birth” of the individual, one of the key elements that broke up the injustices inherent in the 18th century social, political and religious mindset, was as much a blessing as a curse.
All that being said I still found the book to be one I felt more obliged to finish than one that carried me along with the rush of its passage. At times the question and answer sections of the novel seemed to carry on too long and the 3rd person narrative parts could perhaps have been more liberally interspersed into the text than they were. I can accept that not all mysteries have to have a solution, but the utter lack of any real understanding of what happened in that cave in western England, and the impenetrable nature of the young lord’s real purpose and end, is certainly frustrating. In the end I guess I would consider this a highly successful meditation on the birth of modernity and the ways in which we have both learned from, and ignored to our peril, the lessons of the past, but only a moderately successful novel. I think David Mitchell would have written something on the same subject and with the same elements with just as much depth, but that was much more interesting.
December 30, 2019
Σχεδόν όλα εδώ έχουν εφευρεθεί, με εξαίρεση τα ονόματα τους. Μπορεί να υπάρχουν βιβλία και έγγραφα που θα μου έλεγαν περισσότερα γι’ αυτούς, με ιστορικούς όρους, από τα λίγα που ξέρω. Δεν συμβουλεύτηκα κανένα, και δεν έκανα καμιά προσπάθεια να τα βρω. Πρόκειται για ένα καπρίτσιο, όχι για μια προσπάθεια
Και το βιβλίο ξεκινάει. Στον τρόπο που μπαίνει στη σκηνή, κοιτώντας σαν από κιάλι κι εστιάζοντας σταδιακά σε ανθρώπους κι εποχές, υπάρχει μια οικειότητα με τις αρχικές, ελεγχόμενα αποστασιοποιημένες ματιές του Μπαλζάκ, όταν ανοίγει τις αυλαίες του. Υπάρχει επίσης, η ίδια ανοιχτωσιά και συνάμα επικίνδυνη ισορροπία λέξεων. Κάτι σαν πλησίασμα που ξεμακραίνει. Ο Φόουλς βέβαια σε διάφορα σημεία αυξομειώνει το πλάνο του. Κι αν μπορούσαμε να φανταστούμε μια κλίμακα πλαστικότητας έκφρασης απ’ το Μπαλζάκ ως το Ροθ, ο Φόουλς θα ήταν μάλλον, το μέσο. Ανάμεσα στην αιχμηρότητα και την απατηλή απαλότητα.
Μπορείς να πεις πως ήταν ψεύτικα, φτιαγμένα με δόλο και απάτη, όχι όμως πως δεν ήταν πράγματι εκεί.
Οι ταξιδιώτες στο χρόνο στις γνωστές ταινίες μοιάζουν να παίρνουν μαζί την εποχή τους, αλλά στην πραγματικότητα, μένουν τόσο έκθαμβοι απ’ τους τρόπους του παρελθόντος που ίσως να διατηρούν μόνο, ορισμένες ευκολίες, αυτές που δημιουργούν ευρηματικές ή όχι και τόσο ευρηματικές ελαφρύνσεις, δημιουργώντας γέλιο με την ασυμβατότητα τους. Ο Φόουλς απαρνιέται το παρόν μας, εισβάλλει σε μια εποχή και χτίζει σε αυτή, ενώ μας κρατά σφιχτά απ’ το χέρι, αρνούμενος να επιτρέψει τη λήθη της ανθρώπινης ρίζας, αλλά και τι συνεπάγεται η πρόοδος, ποια η πέτρα που οδήγησε στη διαδρομή της. Βλέπουμε απ’ τη μια ως την άλλη, χωρίς περιθώριο επιλογής.
Ο Φόουλς είναι πολύ πιο πιστός Εγγλέζος στην ψυχή απ’ όσο στην έκφραση, παρότι επειδή ξέρει ότι κατέχει την τέχνη να σαγηνεύει ( και να σαγηνεύεται με τα καπρίτσια της ), χωρίς ματαιοδοξία, επιλέγει το σχήμα που έκανε μεγάλους, τον Κόλλινς και τον Τσέστερτον, αν και στην περίπτωση του Τσέστερτον η συνάφεια δε σχετίζεται με το αστυνομικό σχήμα στην πραγματικότητα, αλλά με την θεωρούμενη ως παραδοξότητα του, που δεν ήταν άλλο απ’ το ότι διέτρεχε την ιστορία, επιλέγοντας απ’ το Α να πηγαίνει στο Γ, παραλείποντας το Β, κάνοντας το βέβαια ηχηρότερο. Ενώ στο Φόουλς αυτό είναι που εμφανίζεται, η φράση που λείπει απ’ τον Τσέστερτον, μ’ εκείνη τη ζεστή χροιά που είχε όμως, ο Κόλλινς αν και πολύ λιγότερο αποστροφικά κι ίσως γι’ αυτό σχεδόν κανένα σύγχρονο έργο, να μη μπορεί να φτάσει, εκεί που πήγε το Άρμαντεϊλ. Κι ίσως στα Β που είναι η ιστορία που επιλέγει να διηγείται ο Φόουλς, να βρίσκουμε κάτι απ’ τον ιδιαίτερο τόνο του Ντίκενς, στις επεξηγήσεις του.
- Η αλήθεια που αμφισβητείται δεν παύει να είναι αλήθεια.
- Τότε, μη λες λιγότερες αλήθειες επειδή σε αμφισβητώ.
Αγάπησα αυτή την ιστορία όμως γιατί ήμουν μοναχικό παιδί κι υπήρξαν πάντοτε παρηγοριά μου, η Ανάλυση και η Μηχανική. Βρήκα μέσα τους κόσμους που η καθημερινή εκδήλωση τους, θα μου ήταν απρόσιτη. Έπρεπε να προσποιηθώ κάποιο ταξίδι για να την αγγίξω. Κι αυτή την ίδια παλιά μνήμη βρήκα σ’ αυτή τη μαγική ιστορία που τη διάβασα απνευστί. Αισθανόμουν όμορφα κι οικεία τα βράδια που γυρνούσα και το έβρισκα να περιμένει. Παρότι υπήρξαν σημεία που αφορούσαν το ‘’όραμα’’ που με κούρασαν. Κι ίσως, ορισμένως, να αφοσιώθηκε παραπάνω απ’ όσο θα ήθελα εγώ, σε μεταφυσικές αναζητήσεις, έστω κι αν τον έπεισε ένα ‘’θεικό καπρίτσιο’’.
< Δεν πενθώ την εξωτερική μορφή, αλλά το χαμένο πνεύμα, το θάρρος και τη φαντασία των λόγων της, το Λόγο της, το σχεδόν θεϊκό καπρίτσιο της
Στέκει ο Φόουλς για τους ευαίσθητους, τους απλούς, τους αγαθούς αμαρτωλούς, τρυφερός μπαμπάς και τους αφήνει ν’ αναπνέουν και να κινούνται. Για κάθε άλλον, είναι αδυσώπητη φωνή εκλογίκευσης κι απομυθοποίησης, αναγκάζοντας τους να είναι καλοσχηματισμένες στατικές φιγούρες. Αυτοί, είναι, οι τιμωρίες του κόσμου. Οι αλάθητες τιμωρίες και κατάρες που με κάτι από υστεροφημία, μεγαλομανία κι εγωισμό, οδηγούν πάντοτε, σε αρένες και πεδία μαχών. Οι πρώτοι αποκρυσταλλώνονται κι αναπνέουν. Οι δεύτεροι κρυσταλλώνονται και σφάζουν. Επιβιώνουν δε σα << χαρακτήρες γραμμένοι από κάποιον άλλο, παρά ελεύθερα άτομα >> .
3,5
Και το βιβλίο ξεκινάει. Στον τρόπο που μπαίνει στη σκηνή, κοιτώντας σαν από κιάλι κι εστιάζοντας σταδιακά σε ανθρώπους κι εποχές, υπάρχει μια οικειότητα με τις αρχικές, ελεγχόμενα αποστασιοποιημένες ματιές του Μπαλζάκ, όταν ανοίγει τις αυλαίες του. Υπάρχει επίσης, η ίδια ανοιχτωσιά και συνάμα επικίνδυνη ισορροπία λέξεων. Κάτι σαν πλησίασμα που ξεμακραίνει. Ο Φόουλς βέβαια σε διάφορα σημεία αυξομειώνει το πλάνο του. Κι αν μπορούσαμε να φανταστούμε μια κλίμακα πλαστικότητας έκφρασης απ’ το Μπαλζάκ ως το Ροθ, ο Φόουλς θα ήταν μάλλον, το μέσο. Ανάμεσα στην αιχμηρότητα και την απατηλή απαλότητα.
Μπορείς να πεις πως ήταν ψεύτικα, φτιαγμένα με δόλο και απάτη, όχι όμως πως δεν ήταν πράγματι εκεί.
Οι ταξιδιώτες στο χρόνο στις γνωστές ταινίες μοιάζουν να παίρνουν μαζί την εποχή τους, αλλά στην πραγματικότητα, μένουν τόσο έκθαμβοι απ’ τους τρόπους του παρελθόντος που ίσως να διατηρούν μόνο, ορισμένες ευκολίες, αυτές που δημιουργούν ευρηματικές ή όχι και τόσο ευρηματικές ελαφρύνσεις, δημιουργώντας γέλιο με την ασυμβατότητα τους. Ο Φόουλς απαρνιέται το παρόν μας, εισβάλλει σε μια εποχή και χτίζει σε αυτή, ενώ μας κρατά σφιχτά απ’ το χέρι, αρνούμενος να επιτρέψει τη λήθη της ανθρώπινης ρίζας, αλλά και τι συνεπάγεται η πρόοδος, ποια η πέτρα που οδήγησε στη διαδρομή της. Βλέπουμε απ’ τη μια ως την άλλη, χωρίς περιθώριο επιλογής.
Ο Φόουλς είναι πολύ πιο πιστός Εγγλέζος στην ψυχή απ’ όσο στην έκφραση, παρότι επειδή ξέρει ότι κατέχει την τέχνη να σαγηνεύει ( και να σαγηνεύεται με τα καπρίτσια της ), χωρίς ματαιοδοξία, επιλέγει το σχήμα που έκανε μεγάλους, τον Κόλλινς και τον Τσέστερτον, αν και στην περίπτωση του Τσέστερτον η συνάφεια δε σχετίζεται με το αστυνομικό σχήμα στην πραγματικότητα, αλλά με την θεωρούμενη ως παραδοξότητα του, που δεν ήταν άλλο απ’ το ότι διέτρεχε την ιστορία, επιλέγοντας απ’ το Α να πηγαίνει στο Γ, παραλείποντας το Β, κάνοντας το βέβαια ηχηρότερο. Ενώ στο Φόουλς αυτό είναι που εμφανίζεται, η φράση που λείπει απ’ τον Τσέστερτον, μ’ εκείνη τη ζεστή χροιά που είχε όμως, ο Κόλλινς αν και πολύ λιγότερο αποστροφικά κι ίσως γι’ αυτό σχεδόν κανένα σύγχρονο έργο, να μη μπορεί να φτάσει, εκεί που πήγε το Άρμαντεϊλ. Κι ίσως στα Β που είναι η ιστορία που επιλέγει να διηγείται ο Φόουλς, να βρίσκουμε κάτι απ’ τον ιδιαίτερο τόνο του Ντίκενς, στις επεξηγήσεις του.
- Η αλήθεια που αμφισβητείται δεν παύει να είναι αλήθεια.
- Τότε, μη λες λιγότερες αλήθειες επειδή σε αμφισβητώ.
Αγάπησα αυτή την ιστορία όμως γιατί ήμουν μοναχικό παιδί κι υπήρξαν πάντοτε παρηγοριά μου, η Ανάλυση και η Μηχανική. Βρήκα μέσα τους κόσμους που η καθημερινή εκδήλωση τους, θα μου ήταν απρόσιτη. Έπρεπε να προσποιηθώ κάποιο ταξίδι για να την αγγίξω. Κι αυτή την ίδια παλιά μνήμη βρήκα σ’ αυτή τη μαγική ιστορία που τη διάβασα απνευστί. Αισθανόμουν όμορφα κι οικεία τα βράδια που γυρνούσα και το έβρισκα να περιμένει. Παρότι υπήρξαν σημεία που αφορούσαν το ‘’όραμα’’ που με κούρασαν. Κι ίσως, ορισμένως, να αφοσιώθηκε παραπάνω απ’ όσο θα ήθελα εγώ, σε μεταφυσικές αναζητήσεις, έστω κι αν τον έπεισε ένα ‘’θεικό καπρίτσιο’’.
< Δεν πενθώ την εξωτερική μορφή, αλλά το χαμένο πνεύμα, το θάρρος και τη φαντασία των λόγων της, το Λόγο της, το σχεδόν θεϊκό καπρίτσιο της
Στέκει ο Φόουλς για τους ευαίσθητους, τους απλούς, τους αγαθούς αμαρτωλούς, τρυφερός μπαμπάς και τους αφήνει ν’ αναπνέουν και να κινούνται. Για κάθε άλλον, είναι αδυσώπητη φωνή εκλογίκευσης κι απομυθοποίησης, αναγκάζοντας τους να είναι καλοσχηματισμένες στατικές φιγούρες. Αυτοί, είναι, οι τιμωρίες του κόσμου. Οι αλάθητες τιμωρίες και κατάρες που με κάτι από υστεροφημία, μεγαλομανία κι εγωισμό, οδηγούν πάντοτε, σε αρένες και πεδία μαχών. Οι πρώτοι αποκρυσταλλώνονται κι αναπνέουν. Οι δεύτεροι κρυσταλλώνονται και σφάζουν. Επιβιώνουν δε σα << χαρακτήρες γραμμένοι από κάποιον άλλο, παρά ελεύθερα άτομα >> .
3,5
August 6, 2019
"...visa politika - debesys prieš saulę, tai yra labiau trukdo, nei padeda."
April 23, 2023
Only my fourth John Fowles after all these years. Each time I read one ( and I reread The Magus recently) I say I need to read another. But never get round to it. Luckily the Madeira holiday apartment library gave me this one.
Well if the Magus was weird this one is weirder. Simple story begins in 1736 with 5 travellers on horseback journeying in Devon. Who we believe them to be transpires to be nothing of the sort. After a relatively short preamble of the journey we move to a courtroom procedural of characters being questioned by a lawyer. It transpires that one of the travellers was found hanged - murder or suicide.
With recounting of Witches, sex with Satan, a spaceship and visions of the future. The story romps along. Even a baby daughter that is Ann Lee the future leader of the American Shakers.
Interspersed in the book are the authors asides, and an historical news sheet of the time (difficult to read and apparently unrelated to the story).
Of the books consumed on this holiday. This one is the finest. As I have replaced the book I took over in the library I hope no one will mind me taking this one in exchange. Like the Magus I will be re-reading it. But hopefully not with the 40+ year gap I had with that one.😉
Well if the Magus was weird this one is weirder. Simple story begins in 1736 with 5 travellers on horseback journeying in Devon. Who we believe them to be transpires to be nothing of the sort. After a relatively short preamble of the journey we move to a courtroom procedural of characters being questioned by a lawyer. It transpires that one of the travellers was found hanged - murder or suicide.
With recounting of Witches, sex with Satan, a spaceship and visions of the future. The story romps along. Even a baby daughter that is Ann Lee the future leader of the American Shakers.
Interspersed in the book are the authors asides, and an historical news sheet of the time (difficult to read and apparently unrelated to the story).
Of the books consumed on this holiday. This one is the finest. As I have replaced the book I took over in the library I hope no one will mind me taking this one in exchange. Like the Magus I will be re-reading it. But hopefully not with the 40+ year gap I had with that one.😉
January 22, 2015
Uffff. You know how you're reading a book and you really like it? and it's beautifully written and the plot is interesting but believable and easy to follow? and then halfway through the book there's a UFO abduction? and you're like "what the hell- this is 18th century england ! no UFOs in 18th century england!" but you keep reading because you assume you had a stroke and imagined the UFO scene? but the UFO scene doesn't go away and then in the end the UFO abduction was really Jesus ? yeah, it's like that.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 5, 2016
I wrote this review a few years ago. I just moved to a new apartment, and while I rearranged my books in the perfect order, I came across my copy of A Maggot and remembered this, so I shall copy and paste:
JOHN FOWLES: A MAGGOT
My previous experience reading the work of John Fowles is sporadic but rather steady: while taking a “Literature of the Occult” class in college, The Magus was required reading and sometime last winter I made it through The Collector (recommended to me by Maxim magazine, of all things). I never finished the former, as the parts I remember were a little over my head, and was underwhelmed by the latter.
A while ago I was wandering through a thrift shop on 7th Avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and randomly stumbled upon The Maggot. I immediately picked it up because of the author, but was drawn to it for other reasons, as well. It was a heavy hardcover, a former member of the Brooklyn Public Library system. I liked the cover. Featured was a photo of Mr. Fowles, which took up the entire back cover; someone had pressed a gold star sticker near his right hand, which was neatly tucked into a pocket. I liked the title. I liked the alternative usage of the word "maggot." All these things pleased my aesthetic.
I began reading it right away, ignoring the several half-finished books littering my apartment. Though the style was dense and a little too stodgy for my taste, with about half of it consisting of mid-19th century British dialogue that had me reading paragraphs three or four times each, there was a slow-burning core of promise and thrifty use of language that kept me plugging away. I wouldn't say I couldn't put it down; I wouldn't say it amazed me. However, it's one of those books that plant you firmly into the personality of the author, into the way they see and structure. I was aware of how British Fowles is, and of what qualities he found attractive in a woman. His opinions on religion were evident. All these things, and more, weren't spelled out or even necessarily integral parts of the story- they were just present.
I kept reading it; I even skimmed some of it. Usually when reading a book becomes tedious for me, I'll just move on to something else and tell myself I'll finish it later. It smelled of paper soon to turn brittle and weighted me down every day to and from the train. Others glanced at the title curiously. It was covered in a clear protective plastic.
I finished it on a Saturday. It was one of the first warm days. I had gone for a walk in the sun, air, white cement, and my skin and hair had that green, metallic smell from being outside, from being slightly sweaty and then chilly again. My lungs worked easily. I was laid up on the couch, a cat purring warmly against my chest and belly. My legs had the slight tingle of a good, long walk. The windows and doors were all open. I had eaten pineapple and blackberries and Nutella in great, big spoonfuls. I was hurrying to finish this book, killing time. The day had been so perfect, my senses and mind so round and full that I didn't want to ruin it with television. So I finished it, turned the last pages, and the conclusion left me with a vague satisfaction. It was an unclear ending, the kind that you are okay with because the unknowing is fitting and more telling than a neat wrapping up.
So it was finished, and I flipped to the epilogue, which was written directly to the readers from the author, like an explanation, or a letter. He made it clear that the entire novel, which was an amalgamation of a who-done-it, historical fiction, time travel fantasy, religious dissent, romance and political treatise, was crawling toward one purpose only; this purpose was the birth of Ann Lee.
All these things, an entire complex and at times convoluted plot, and several characters...they all led to this. There were no hints, none, except for mentions of Quakerism. Ann Lee was the founder of religious sect known as the Shakers, who originated in England and quickly immigrated to America to escape persecution. A severe group, they were originally an offshoot of the Quakers and claimed a strict adherence to chastity as the main difference between their beliefs and other similar Protestant faiths. The first Shaker settlement in America was founded outside Albany, NY in the 1770's. In fact, this original community still stands within a couple of miles of my parents' house. In fact, I completed an internship at the Shaker Heritage Society at this very site while in college. I picnicked at Ann Lee Pond; I drove down paths entitled North Family Road and Watervliet-Shaker Road. Their presence in my life was extremely prevalent.
The Shakers believed fervently in celibacy. They relied mainly on conversion to gain new members, and never exceeded over 6,000 members due to the difficulty of convincing people not to succumb to the temptations of the flesh. At times, it was difficult to control the natural proclivities of their members, especially the young ones (many of which were adopted orphans, without a choice in the matter). While at the Heritage Society, I read countless accounts of Shaker Girls Gone Wild, running half-dressed, bonnets askance, through the primitive streets, imbibing whiskey and threatening the piety of the town's menfolk.
The Shakers were largely self-sufficient. They operated large farms and made most of their own clothing, soap, furniture, etc. I spent many hours showing small children how to comb and card wool, how to use a drop spindle, how to knit. I learned how to knit through this influence, directly; it has been a hobby of mine ever since that time. It has enabled me to make things for many people, people I love. In addition, their products were of such quality that there was high demand for them in town. Especially things that involved intricate handiwork; the Shaker women were famous for their luxury embroidered goods. Coincidentally, this was something they had little use for themselves. Their honey, brooms, herbs, seeds, and chairs were also famed and bought by many.
The Shakers were also extremely innovative. They made vast improvements upon already existing items and ideas. I won't delve deeper into any of this, save to say that it is generally believed that their sacrifice of carnality enabled them to expend time and energy into all the aforementioned innovations, and into quality craftsmanship.
This series of events may seem inconsequential; perhaps they are. What is evident to me after reading this work is the nature of coincidence and the nagging belief that the manipulation of energy, of being able to force things to you, away from you, based on what you give and take, is possible. Did all this happen because I have been rethinking my behavior lately? Or was it the other way around?
In the epilogue, John Fowles mentions how the story came to him as if by accident or coincidence. He came into possession, by chance, of a replica of a drawing: a portrait of a woman. The woman wasn't particularly beautiful, but her image, through someone else's perspective, drew him in and inspired him. She may have been a prostitute. She was the basis for one of the main characters, Rebecca Lee, the mother of Ann Lee. The cover of my copy of the book is this original portrait, which pleases me immensely. Interestingly, Fowles claims he did little research and made most of the story up. Chance, coincidence, inspiration. I wonder what he was projecting to receive such bounty. And it's a personal bounty; it seems like he was striving to please only himself with this work. This exact mental path is the one that usually yields extraordinary results in art and literature.
JOHN FOWLES: A MAGGOT
My previous experience reading the work of John Fowles is sporadic but rather steady: while taking a “Literature of the Occult” class in college, The Magus was required reading and sometime last winter I made it through The Collector (recommended to me by Maxim magazine, of all things). I never finished the former, as the parts I remember were a little over my head, and was underwhelmed by the latter.
A while ago I was wandering through a thrift shop on 7th Avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and randomly stumbled upon The Maggot. I immediately picked it up because of the author, but was drawn to it for other reasons, as well. It was a heavy hardcover, a former member of the Brooklyn Public Library system. I liked the cover. Featured was a photo of Mr. Fowles, which took up the entire back cover; someone had pressed a gold star sticker near his right hand, which was neatly tucked into a pocket. I liked the title. I liked the alternative usage of the word "maggot." All these things pleased my aesthetic.
I began reading it right away, ignoring the several half-finished books littering my apartment. Though the style was dense and a little too stodgy for my taste, with about half of it consisting of mid-19th century British dialogue that had me reading paragraphs three or four times each, there was a slow-burning core of promise and thrifty use of language that kept me plugging away. I wouldn't say I couldn't put it down; I wouldn't say it amazed me. However, it's one of those books that plant you firmly into the personality of the author, into the way they see and structure. I was aware of how British Fowles is, and of what qualities he found attractive in a woman. His opinions on religion were evident. All these things, and more, weren't spelled out or even necessarily integral parts of the story- they were just present.
I kept reading it; I even skimmed some of it. Usually when reading a book becomes tedious for me, I'll just move on to something else and tell myself I'll finish it later. It smelled of paper soon to turn brittle and weighted me down every day to and from the train. Others glanced at the title curiously. It was covered in a clear protective plastic.
I finished it on a Saturday. It was one of the first warm days. I had gone for a walk in the sun, air, white cement, and my skin and hair had that green, metallic smell from being outside, from being slightly sweaty and then chilly again. My lungs worked easily. I was laid up on the couch, a cat purring warmly against my chest and belly. My legs had the slight tingle of a good, long walk. The windows and doors were all open. I had eaten pineapple and blackberries and Nutella in great, big spoonfuls. I was hurrying to finish this book, killing time. The day had been so perfect, my senses and mind so round and full that I didn't want to ruin it with television. So I finished it, turned the last pages, and the conclusion left me with a vague satisfaction. It was an unclear ending, the kind that you are okay with because the unknowing is fitting and more telling than a neat wrapping up.
So it was finished, and I flipped to the epilogue, which was written directly to the readers from the author, like an explanation, or a letter. He made it clear that the entire novel, which was an amalgamation of a who-done-it, historical fiction, time travel fantasy, religious dissent, romance and political treatise, was crawling toward one purpose only; this purpose was the birth of Ann Lee.
All these things, an entire complex and at times convoluted plot, and several characters...they all led to this. There were no hints, none, except for mentions of Quakerism. Ann Lee was the founder of religious sect known as the Shakers, who originated in England and quickly immigrated to America to escape persecution. A severe group, they were originally an offshoot of the Quakers and claimed a strict adherence to chastity as the main difference between their beliefs and other similar Protestant faiths. The first Shaker settlement in America was founded outside Albany, NY in the 1770's. In fact, this original community still stands within a couple of miles of my parents' house. In fact, I completed an internship at the Shaker Heritage Society at this very site while in college. I picnicked at Ann Lee Pond; I drove down paths entitled North Family Road and Watervliet-Shaker Road. Their presence in my life was extremely prevalent.
The Shakers believed fervently in celibacy. They relied mainly on conversion to gain new members, and never exceeded over 6,000 members due to the difficulty of convincing people not to succumb to the temptations of the flesh. At times, it was difficult to control the natural proclivities of their members, especially the young ones (many of which were adopted orphans, without a choice in the matter). While at the Heritage Society, I read countless accounts of Shaker Girls Gone Wild, running half-dressed, bonnets askance, through the primitive streets, imbibing whiskey and threatening the piety of the town's menfolk.
The Shakers were largely self-sufficient. They operated large farms and made most of their own clothing, soap, furniture, etc. I spent many hours showing small children how to comb and card wool, how to use a drop spindle, how to knit. I learned how to knit through this influence, directly; it has been a hobby of mine ever since that time. It has enabled me to make things for many people, people I love. In addition, their products were of such quality that there was high demand for them in town. Especially things that involved intricate handiwork; the Shaker women were famous for their luxury embroidered goods. Coincidentally, this was something they had little use for themselves. Their honey, brooms, herbs, seeds, and chairs were also famed and bought by many.
The Shakers were also extremely innovative. They made vast improvements upon already existing items and ideas. I won't delve deeper into any of this, save to say that it is generally believed that their sacrifice of carnality enabled them to expend time and energy into all the aforementioned innovations, and into quality craftsmanship.
This series of events may seem inconsequential; perhaps they are. What is evident to me after reading this work is the nature of coincidence and the nagging belief that the manipulation of energy, of being able to force things to you, away from you, based on what you give and take, is possible. Did all this happen because I have been rethinking my behavior lately? Or was it the other way around?
In the epilogue, John Fowles mentions how the story came to him as if by accident or coincidence. He came into possession, by chance, of a replica of a drawing: a portrait of a woman. The woman wasn't particularly beautiful, but her image, through someone else's perspective, drew him in and inspired him. She may have been a prostitute. She was the basis for one of the main characters, Rebecca Lee, the mother of Ann Lee. The cover of my copy of the book is this original portrait, which pleases me immensely. Interestingly, Fowles claims he did little research and made most of the story up. Chance, coincidence, inspiration. I wonder what he was projecting to receive such bounty. And it's a personal bounty; it seems like he was striving to please only himself with this work. This exact mental path is the one that usually yields extraordinary results in art and literature.
October 3, 2017
Beklenmedik bir kurgu, her sayfada "acaba ne olacak" düşüncesiyle okuduğum olaylar. Fowles bu defa farklı bir konuyu, son ana kadar ne olacağını tahmin edemeyeceğiniz bir yaklaşımla işlemiş.
Kurgusu her zamanki gibi olayların devamını okura bırakır nitelikte sayılsa da sonsöze yazdıkları üzerine biraz araştırma yapınca tatmin edici bir sonuca ulaşacaksınız.
Fowles'e farklı bir açıdan bakmamı sağlayan bir kitaptı. Çok keyifliydi!
Bir polisiye, sorgu gibi görünse de bitirdiğimde anlatılanın başka bir şey olduğunu anladım. Bana göre başucu eseridir...
Kurgusu her zamanki gibi olayların devamını okura bırakır nitelikte sayılsa da sonsöze yazdıkları üzerine biraz araştırma yapınca tatmin edici bir sonuca ulaşacaksınız.
Fowles'e farklı bir açıdan bakmamı sağlayan bir kitaptı. Çok keyifliydi!
Bir polisiye, sorgu gibi görünse de bitirdiğimde anlatılanın başka bir şey olduğunu anladım. Bana göre başucu eseridir...
October 16, 2020
This was a great story until a certain incident turned this into a science fiction story. I lost interest towards the end.
August 9, 2022
After totally enjoying and adoring The magus and The collector I really expected Fowles to score a hattrick, but no. I disliked A Maggot for its too dense, too descriptive writing, for its old English language (weirdly alternating with (post)modern commentary from a future narrators POV - Fowles himself?) and for its futile attempt to make this complex mystery into something compelling.
DNF
DNF
July 15, 2025
CRITIQUE:
Heterogeneous Structure
John Fowles assembled this novel out of a number of heterogeneous elements:
* traditional narrative prose concerning events on April 30, 1736 (albeit in an apparently eighteenth century style);
* extracts from an Historical Chronicle in "The Gentleman's Magazine";
* depositions of potential witnesses to a suspected murder committed after the events in the first narrative; and
* correspondence and reports on the findings.
These elements offer different perspectives on related events, some of them first person, some subjective, and others ostensibly objective, or at least journalistic.
Over-Laden Vessels
The danger with this conceit is that the documents (ultimately including the novel itself) simply become vessels for the containment of data, facts, possibilities and assertions, only some of which end up constituting the plot.
Indeed, it's arguable that this is exactly what happens for the first 300 pages (65% of 460 pages) of the novel, the last of which is the point when the examination and deposition of the female character, Rebecca Lee, commences. A former prostitute in London become a Quaker Friend, she is the focal point around which the other characters and events rotate.
Holy Mother Wisdom
In the prologue to the novel, Fowles writes:
In the immediately following chapter, Rebecca Lee makes her first appearance. She remains a leading character throughout the novel, as well as the fictional version of a woman who becomes the mother of an actual historical figure (Ann Lee).
The event to which Fowles referred is arguably a series of events in and around a cavern in Devonshire ("the maggot's chamber"), where the travellers meet a sisterhood of women, comprising a grandmother, a mother and a daughter. The mother is -
The structure of this part of the novel reminded me of tales of the birth (Nativity) of Jesus Christ, and the Adoration of the Magi. Rebecca leads the travellers/Magi, and women therefore dominate the origin story of the religion that is manifested in the end of the novel.
Male Rationality vs. Female Mysticism
Rebecca also opposes the dominance of rationality, and contrasts it with accord, harmony, wisdom and emotional intelligence. Some of the perspectives on this contrast are set out in the passage below, which still reflects a male perspective:
Credit: William Blake: The Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins
VERSE:
The Ride of the Bawd
Louise was the broad
With whom the wayward Lord
Had many times whored,
And whom he took abroad
To shirk being bored.
SOUNDTRACK:
Heterogeneous Structure
John Fowles assembled this novel out of a number of heterogeneous elements:
* traditional narrative prose concerning events on April 30, 1736 (albeit in an apparently eighteenth century style);
* extracts from an Historical Chronicle in "The Gentleman's Magazine";
* depositions of potential witnesses to a suspected murder committed after the events in the first narrative; and
* correspondence and reports on the findings.
These elements offer different perspectives on related events, some of them first person, some subjective, and others ostensibly objective, or at least journalistic.
Over-Laden Vessels
The danger with this conceit is that the documents (ultimately including the novel itself) simply become vessels for the containment of data, facts, possibilities and assertions, only some of which end up constituting the plot.
Indeed, it's arguable that this is exactly what happens for the first 300 pages (65% of 460 pages) of the novel, the last of which is the point when the examination and deposition of the female character, Rebecca Lee, commences. A former prostitute in London become a Quaker Friend, she is the focal point around which the other characters and events rotate.
Holy Mother Wisdom
In the prologue to the novel, Fowles writes:
"For some years before its writing, a small group of travellers, faceless, without apparent motive, went in my mind towards an event...However, one day one of the riders gained a face. By chance I acquired a pencil and water-colour drawing of a young woman..."
In the immediately following chapter, Rebecca Lee makes her first appearance. She remains a leading character throughout the novel, as well as the fictional version of a woman who becomes the mother of an actual historical figure (Ann Lee).
The event to which Fowles referred is arguably a series of events in and around a cavern in Devonshire ("the maggot's chamber"), where the travellers meet a sisterhood of women, comprising a grandmother, a mother and a daughter. The mother is -
"the queen of queens...she without whom God the Father could not have made His works, whom some would call the Holy Spirit. She is Holy Mother Wisdom...'Tis she the bearing spirit of God's Will, and one with him from the beginning, that takes up all that Christ the Saviour promised."
The structure of this part of the novel reminded me of tales of the birth (Nativity) of Jesus Christ, and the Adoration of the Magi. Rebecca leads the travellers/Magi, and women therefore dominate the origin story of the religion that is manifested in the end of the novel.
Male Rationality vs. Female Mysticism
Rebecca also opposes the dominance of rationality, and contrasts it with accord, harmony, wisdom and emotional intelligence. Some of the perspectives on this contrast are set out in the passage below, which still reflects a male perspective:
"Those whom the left lobe (and the right hand) dominates are rational, mathematical, ordered, glib with words, usually careful and conventional; human society largely runs on an even keel, or at least runs, because of them.
"A sage and sober god of evolution must regard those dominated by the right lobe as far less desirable, except in one or two peripheral things like art and religion, where mysticism and lack of logic are given value."
Credit: William Blake: The Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins
VERSE:
The Ride of the Bawd
Louise was the broad
With whom the wayward Lord
Had many times whored,
And whom he took abroad
To shirk being bored.
SOUNDTRACK:
August 10, 2016
I found this book to be very strange. At the end of the book, there is an author's note, wherein Fowles describes what he was trying to accomplish when writing the novel. Instead of the note providing an illuminating experience, I found myself scratching my head even more, because I didn't really buy into Fowles attempt to get to B from A.
I found the first half of the book to be pretty interesting, but the second half - not so much. The book is a murder mystery and what happened in relation to the murder is primarily told through a series of interrogations between law enforcement and a series of witnesses/suspects. As we get closer to the end of the book, the whys and the hows start to become even stranger as well. I believe that if Fowles would have written the book that he said that he wanted to write here, I would have enjoyed the story much more.
My GR friends have informed me that no Fowles book is alike. Since that is the case, I will give Fowles another go in the future.
Overall, I'm not sure for a first time reader of Fowles, that this one is a good book with which to start.
I found the first half of the book to be pretty interesting, but the second half - not so much. The book is a murder mystery and what happened in relation to the murder is primarily told through a series of interrogations between law enforcement and a series of witnesses/suspects. As we get closer to the end of the book, the whys and the hows start to become even stranger as well. I believe that if Fowles would have written the book that he said that he wanted to write here, I would have enjoyed the story much more.
My GR friends have informed me that no Fowles book is alike. Since that is the case, I will give Fowles another go in the future.
Overall, I'm not sure for a first time reader of Fowles, that this one is a good book with which to start.
October 25, 2019
I've struggled to complete this book on several occasions over the years but on the basis that I love other John Fowles titles I was determined to finish this time. I have to say it was a bit of a struggle but I ploughed on regardless. An interesting 'who done it' set in the 18th century but the language confounds and it was just too much effort. I will love The Magus forever but this just doesn't compare.
April 9, 2015
A shaggy dog story. John Fowles' prologue tells us the book began with an image of travellers on horseback. For years, though finding this image striking, he was prevented from doing anything with it because he didn't know who the travellers were or where they were going. Then he worked out a way of writing a book anyway without knowing this.
It's eighteenth-century England and the travellers are journeying through the countryside for some hidden purpose. Then this purpose is accomplished. We still don't know what it was, but one of the party is dead, the rest are scattered and the most important member, a rebellious son of an aristocrat, is mysteriously disappeared for good. A lawyer, struggling to establish what has become of the aristocratic son, carries out interrogations which take up most of the novel in Q and A format. The book is the kind where the gratification of curiosity, being constantly deferred just a little longer, leads you round and round a maze. I knew it was that kind of book, and a deliberately puzzling, odd book, but I guess I was surprised by how completely it was that sort of book. It doesn't feel incomplete or badly realised but it feels like what it says on the tin. An uncategorisable whim with a mind of its own.
It's really fairly clear what happens, actually. In a way. The prostitute who was being taken along for mysterious reasons reverts violently back to her Quaker upbringing following the mysterious crucial incident in a cave. She has a fairly standard weird religious vision. The non-standard part, from our point of view, is the spaceship. It's fairly obvious the disappeared character has gone away with the spaceship, it's just that the context and form of the novel has not prepared us for being expected to believe it.
Then there's an earnest epilogue about Quakers and Shakers where Fowles tells us the proceding farrago about prostitutes and devil-summoning etc was his way of introducing the founder of the Shakers, an historical figure he's fond of, as the prostitute's daughter. It's this element that makes the book so odd; the match of destination and method of getting there. The stuff about dissenting religion and its expression of political subversiveness and a belief in equality amid an oppressive eighteenth century was less interesting than it should have been. I think partly this was because of Fowles' authorial explanations of the eighteenth-century mind-set, and how they worshipped property and status and the lower classes had no concept of self-assertion or self-awareness. I'm sure it's substantially true but something about the way Fowles said it made me want to argue. I know more about the nineteenth century, insofar as I know anything about anything, but I see this kind of society as less aware of its own antipathy to much biblical teaching, more safely wrapped up in ways of bypassing that realisation. Fowles has the situation a shade too black and white for it not to be artistically irritating even if historically accurate. Fowles is well-known for his metafictional touches, such as these comments on the culture of his historical settings. It was interesting on reading Ivanhoe to see that there are actually a lot of similarities between Scott and Fowles’ techniques in this respect.
It’s like Fowles’ other novels that I’ve read in plenty of aspects. There’s the gossipy pleasure of putting the story together through lots of different narratives and perspectives. There’s the same trope from The Magus where characters perform misleading narratives for hire as a plot device. Fowles’ taste for mysterious women with a mixture of victimisation and agency seems familiar.
It's eighteenth-century England and the travellers are journeying through the countryside for some hidden purpose. Then this purpose is accomplished. We still don't know what it was, but one of the party is dead, the rest are scattered and the most important member, a rebellious son of an aristocrat, is mysteriously disappeared for good. A lawyer, struggling to establish what has become of the aristocratic son, carries out interrogations which take up most of the novel in Q and A format. The book is the kind where the gratification of curiosity, being constantly deferred just a little longer, leads you round and round a maze. I knew it was that kind of book, and a deliberately puzzling, odd book, but I guess I was surprised by how completely it was that sort of book. It doesn't feel incomplete or badly realised but it feels like what it says on the tin. An uncategorisable whim with a mind of its own.
It's really fairly clear what happens, actually. In a way. The prostitute who was being taken along for mysterious reasons reverts violently back to her Quaker upbringing following the mysterious crucial incident in a cave. She has a fairly standard weird religious vision. The non-standard part, from our point of view, is the spaceship. It's fairly obvious the disappeared character has gone away with the spaceship, it's just that the context and form of the novel has not prepared us for being expected to believe it.
Then there's an earnest epilogue about Quakers and Shakers where Fowles tells us the proceding farrago about prostitutes and devil-summoning etc was his way of introducing the founder of the Shakers, an historical figure he's fond of, as the prostitute's daughter. It's this element that makes the book so odd; the match of destination and method of getting there. The stuff about dissenting religion and its expression of political subversiveness and a belief in equality amid an oppressive eighteenth century was less interesting than it should have been. I think partly this was because of Fowles' authorial explanations of the eighteenth-century mind-set, and how they worshipped property and status and the lower classes had no concept of self-assertion or self-awareness. I'm sure it's substantially true but something about the way Fowles said it made me want to argue. I know more about the nineteenth century, insofar as I know anything about anything, but I see this kind of society as less aware of its own antipathy to much biblical teaching, more safely wrapped up in ways of bypassing that realisation. Fowles has the situation a shade too black and white for it not to be artistically irritating even if historically accurate. Fowles is well-known for his metafictional touches, such as these comments on the culture of his historical settings. It was interesting on reading Ivanhoe to see that there are actually a lot of similarities between Scott and Fowles’ techniques in this respect.
It’s like Fowles’ other novels that I’ve read in plenty of aspects. There’s the gossipy pleasure of putting the story together through lots of different narratives and perspectives. There’s the same trope from The Magus where characters perform misleading narratives for hire as a plot device. Fowles’ taste for mysterious women with a mixture of victimisation and agency seems familiar.
March 6, 2014
Opening: A maggot is the larval stage of a winged creature; as is the written text, at least in the writer's hope.
In here is a character called Dorcas and for those of us who have watched and/or read Lark Rise to Candleford the phrase "what would Dorcas Lane do?" Is enough to send one to hide behind the curtains of a kidney shaped dressing table to start pulling out tresses by the mit full.
The 3 star is a hattip to the authorial skill, however the caveat is that I did not care for this tale - it was a maggot too far for personal taste
TBR Busting 2013
3* The Maggot
4* The Magus
4* The French Lieutenant's Woman
4* The Collector
3* Daniel Martin
In here is a character called Dorcas and for those of us who have watched and/or read Lark Rise to Candleford the phrase "what would Dorcas Lane do?" Is enough to send one to hide behind the curtains of a kidney shaped dressing table to start pulling out tresses by the mit full.
The 3 star is a hattip to the authorial skill, however the caveat is that I did not care for this tale - it was a maggot too far for personal taste
TBR Busting 2013
3* The Maggot
4* The Magus
4* The French Lieutenant's Woman
4* The Collector
3* Daniel Martin
September 5, 2016
Very strange and contrived. Unsatisfying ending.
August 5, 2023
42-oji XX a. Aukso fondo knyga. Anlų autoriaus knyga, kuri priskiriama skirtingiems knygų tipams - detektyvas, istorinė fantasy, posmodernistinė novelė. Tai pirma keistenybė. Antras keistumas - pavadinimas. Jam panaudotas žodis The maggot reiškia ir vikšrą, ir užgaidą, keistenybę. Daugiausia informacijos pateikiama liudininkų apklausos formatu, ir tai tikrai sudomina. Tačiau šalia yra ir truputis keistenybių, ir truputis sąsajų su asketiška sekta šeikeriais, ir su tikromis istorinėmis asmenybėmis. Buvo įdomu.
October 3, 2008
At first I thought the maggot was something figurative, then a woman's testimony told me it was something real. The whole time I read this book, I was attempting to discover what it was really about, but all I concluded is that it's a good bed time book; which means I fell asleep shortly after nearly every time I tried reading it. I did not want to leave it unfinished because I loved the first book I read by Fowles, The French Lieutenant's Woman, so I kept truckin'. It is not a good book, although Fowles is a great writer, which I still believe this due to his vocabulary, sentence structure, etc. However, a good read has not to do with form, but the carrying out of actual themes, intricate plots, and it is basically required the reader can grasp the concepts being set forth by the author. I suppose Fowles attempts to do this in his novel, but I am certainly not the person to know where between the two book ends it is evident.
Set in the Victorian era, 'A Maggot' begins with a journey through England by 5 individuals, one of whom is found dead and supposedly murdered. The plot ensues with attorney Henry Ayscough's questioning of the journey and the individuals who partook in it. The story is told through a Q&A dialect as well as Ayscough's letters of correspondence. Often the reader cannot perceive whether the testimonies Ayscough collects are true or false. I thought at first the 'maggot' represented lies eating away at a story, which affected Fowles' very convoluted idea for a novel. However, near the end of the novel, you discover the maggot is a true being in a cave that reveals knowledge of good and evil to one of the main characters… I'll just stop this review here and reiterate that it is not a good book, but if you need something to put you to sleep, go ahead and open it up, it worked for me.
Set in the Victorian era, 'A Maggot' begins with a journey through England by 5 individuals, one of whom is found dead and supposedly murdered. The plot ensues with attorney Henry Ayscough's questioning of the journey and the individuals who partook in it. The story is told through a Q&A dialect as well as Ayscough's letters of correspondence. Often the reader cannot perceive whether the testimonies Ayscough collects are true or false. I thought at first the 'maggot' represented lies eating away at a story, which affected Fowles' very convoluted idea for a novel. However, near the end of the novel, you discover the maggot is a true being in a cave that reveals knowledge of good and evil to one of the main characters… I'll just stop this review here and reiterate that it is not a good book, but if you need something to put you to sleep, go ahead and open it up, it worked for me.
January 11, 2021
Fowles okumayalı epey olmuştu. Yıllar sonra Yaratık’la döndüm. Koleksiyoncu-Fransız Teğmenin Kadını-Büyücü üçlüsüyle aynı kefeye koyamasam da düşünsel yanının güçlü olmasının etkisiyle sağlam bulduğum bir roman.
Roman bahsi geçen ölüm ve kayıp olayına karışan karakterlerin ve atmosferin tasvirleriyle açılıyor. Üçüncü tekil şahısla yazılan bu bölümün ardından romanın geri kalan bölümü büyük ölçüde karakterlerin ve tanıkların sorgulanmasıyla, diyaloglarla ve mektuplarla ilerliyor. Fowles’ın romanlarının sonunda okuru tatmin etmekten çok okuru sarkıp silkelemekle, düşündürmekle, kurmacaya kendi yorumunu katmakla ilgilendiği malum. Metafizik, fantastik ve bilim kurgu öğelerinin yer aldığı bir hikayeyle belli başlı yerleşik dinlerdeki ikiyüzlü öğeler sorgulanıyor. Zenginler ve yoksullar arasındaki uçurumun hiç bitmeyişinin yanında, kadınları köle ya da fahişe dışında bir ‘yaratık’ olarak göremeyen zihniyetlerin dünyayı cehenneme çevirdiğini vurguluyor Fowles. Bunu yaparken de, Hıristiyanlığın geri planda kalmış Quaker mezhebinden yola çıkarak anlatıcıların güvenilmezliğiyle, yalanlarla, gerçeklerle, fanteziyle, şimdi ve gelecek algısıyla oynuyor.
Ele aldığı ağırlığı çok olan tüm bu temalara rağmen sürükleyici bir okuma var elimizde. Romanın güçlüğü de üslubundan ziyade, olayların yüzde yüz çözülmesini tercih eden okurların aradıklarını bulamamalarından, yazarın gerçekle kurmaca arasında gidip gelişinden, bilim kurgu öğelerini ima eden anlatısından kaynaklanabilir.
Roman bahsi geçen ölüm ve kayıp olayına karışan karakterlerin ve atmosferin tasvirleriyle açılıyor. Üçüncü tekil şahısla yazılan bu bölümün ardından romanın geri kalan bölümü büyük ölçüde karakterlerin ve tanıkların sorgulanmasıyla, diyaloglarla ve mektuplarla ilerliyor. Fowles’ın romanlarının sonunda okuru tatmin etmekten çok okuru sarkıp silkelemekle, düşündürmekle, kurmacaya kendi yorumunu katmakla ilgilendiği malum. Metafizik, fantastik ve bilim kurgu öğelerinin yer aldığı bir hikayeyle belli başlı yerleşik dinlerdeki ikiyüzlü öğeler sorgulanıyor. Zenginler ve yoksullar arasındaki uçurumun hiç bitmeyişinin yanında, kadınları köle ya da fahişe dışında bir ‘yaratık’ olarak göremeyen zihniyetlerin dünyayı cehenneme çevirdiğini vurguluyor Fowles. Bunu yaparken de, Hıristiyanlığın geri planda kalmış Quaker mezhebinden yola çıkarak anlatıcıların güvenilmezliğiyle, yalanlarla, gerçeklerle, fanteziyle, şimdi ve gelecek algısıyla oynuyor.
Ele aldığı ağırlığı çok olan tüm bu temalara rağmen sürükleyici bir okuma var elimizde. Romanın güçlüğü de üslubundan ziyade, olayların yüzde yüz çözülmesini tercih eden okurların aradıklarını bulamamalarından, yazarın gerçekle kurmaca arasında gidip gelişinden, bilim kurgu öğelerini ima eden anlatısından kaynaklanabilir.
June 25, 2012
A Maggot: Another masterpiece from the intimidating mind of John Fowles. In this twisting mystery set in the early 18th century, Fowles is up to his old tricks with his magnificent cerebral teasing. A small group of travellers are on a very mysterious journey that will dance with life, death and madness - and where nothing is what it seems. It feels a playful old yarn until Fowles pulls the rug from under you, and we become deeply engaged with what, in modern times, would be termed a police investigation. Yet this is no ordinary procedural and every element is infused with wit, intellect and the very finest characterisation. Hidden within the layers of the incredible, Fowles poses many remarkable observations regarding reason and faith, and investigates the plausible ancestry of many familiar cultural artefacts. As the title suggests, it is a story that will burrow into your mind with (joyful) obsession, and thus we are carried into the multiple obsessions of the characters. Demonstrating the author's typical literary prowess, A Maggot is both a joy and a wonder to become lost in.
December 23, 2023
I'm not usually one for metafiction, but somehow this odd duck of a book kept me turning pages, damned it I know why. Vast swathes of the story are told in Q and A format, which sounds dreadful, but somehow it works. It's an intellectual game, is the best I can come up with, and as with his "The Magus" much of the enjoyment comes from reading between the lines. I can't say I even know what happened in this book, and what's strangest is: I don't care. I liked it anyway. What a talent Fowles was.
Edit 12/23: Second reading made me realize the SF elements are never explained. The majority of the book involves a death which is never explained. Fowles, in the prologue and epilogue, says this is not a novel of historical fiction. Given the lack of characterization, and the fact that the death and the mysteries are what keep you turning pages, I'm not even sure it's a novel, especially with the author breaking the fourth wall over and over.
Edit 12/23: Second reading made me realize the SF elements are never explained. The majority of the book involves a death which is never explained. Fowles, in the prologue and epilogue, says this is not a novel of historical fiction. Given the lack of characterization, and the fact that the death and the mysteries are what keep you turning pages, I'm not even sure it's a novel, especially with the author breaking the fourth wall over and over.
July 29, 2012
I think this has to be one of my favorite books. What this book spoke to me was far beyond a sci-fi story: to me it dealt with topics like equality between genders and races (the feeling you get while reading the book is just how unfair people were treated according to gender and wealth and just how bedazzeled the lawyer is when the woman describes her journey in the utopian world/heaven? where everyone is equal.). I was very much amused at how people disregarded the book as a mediocre attempt at sci fi literature "today we know that what they saw was a spacecraft". Very amusing! Just because some people in books and movies imagined flying saucers like that does not mean it's a fact. The amazing thing is "the maggot" could have been anything. Highly recommended!
August 21, 2024
Важко писати відгуки на такі книжки... Початок 18 століття, Англія, детективна (чи квазідетективна?) історія про п'ятьох таємничих вершників. Оповідь, яка ведеться через листи та протоколи допитів (десь 80% тексту це діалоги або монологи персонажів). Багато маловідомих історичних фактів, а стилізація мови того часу це взагалі розрив усього! Плюс відчужений голос оповідача, який коментує події з позиції людини 20 ст. Ну і звісно фаулзівський відкритий фінал, куди ж без нього.
Загалом нічого не знав про цей роман, нічого не очікував, а в результаті отримав масу задоволення від рівня майстерності Фаулза, кілька цікавих тем для роздумів і плюс ще одну книжку до скарбнички "all time favourites".
Загалом нічого не знав про цей роман, нічого не очікував, а в результаті отримав масу задоволення від рівня майстерності Фаулза, кілька цікавих тем для роздумів і плюс ще одну книжку до скарбнички "all time favourites".
Displaying 1 - 30 of 233 reviews