Leah > Recent Status Updates

Nope, can't take it any more. Fragments of sex, drunkenness and violence. Hemingway is staring into the gutter looking for meaning, but all he is finding is dirt and degradation. He should take Flaubert's advice and try looking up at the stars.

OK, having finally escaped from Les Misérables, here I am back with Mr Miserable himself, the man whose observations of life are made through the bottom of a tumbler, his gaze turned always towards the nearest matador, boxer or whore. Fragments of shallow observation, flashes of good characterisation, reams of repetitive dialogue. Hemingway's whole world is populated by drunks and losers. What fun he is.

I cannot begin to express how happy I was to turn the last page. Hugo should be made the patron saint of editors. He is a major argument for abridged novels. This emperor may not be naked, but he is most certainly scantily clad. I assume that his high ratings are because people rate it while still in a state of euphoria on finishing.

I feel like a hamster in a wheel. No matter how much I run, I never seem to move forward. Stuck on the barricades last Sunday - still stuck on the barricades this Sunday. But hey, let's digress and talk about flowers for a chapter or two! I've lost what little interest I ever had in the fates of any of these people. I'm reading now purely out of determination to get to the end.

3 chapters on criminal argot. I've had about enough of his endless digressions now. The man could win Gold for boring in the Olympics. The story is fine - slight, but fine - on the rare occasions he returns to it, but it's really a book of essays. Which would be fine except that it's supposed to be a work of fiction. I will be so glad to get to the end.

Nope! I think this one will have to wait till I finish Les Mis. I can't seem to force myself to read even a few pages a week at the moment. I shall leave it lingering here...

Over halfway! He's a strange one, Hugo. First he bores me to the point of screaming with pages full of young men rambling drunkenly about politics, and then he enchants me utterly with a portrait of a young man falling in love. Normally love bores me and politics interest me...

Well, I now know more about convents than I ever expected to, or indeed wanted to! When he digresses, he doesn't do it in half measures. However, he's always interesting , even if I sometimes want to hit him with a brick and tell him to get on with the story. Apart from that, this week we've had a tense chase through Paris and some lovely Gothic horror in a graveyard. Great stuff!

Two weeks since I touched this one - I fear it's heading for the abandoned pile. I'll give it one more week and see if enthusiasm hits me at any point. Note to self: never acquire any book with the word 'Complete' in the title.

Thoroughly enjoying my very slow read/listen of this. Second narrator now - Natalie Simpson - and she's so much better than the first.

Reading a few of these unsatisfying repetitive fragments about war, masculinity and alcohol every week is becoming like a long stay in purgatory. I don't know if I can struggle through the whole collection. I also don't know why he is praised as a master of the short story form. To me these are completely forgettable.

So far he's sticking to the story and it's great stuff. The translation is excellent (which is more than can be said of the narration, sadly). The notes in the Penguin edition are also very good. At this rate I should definitely finish it sometime this decade...

This is becoming a Sunday penance...

And the plot begins! We meet Valjean whom I currently dislike intensely. Is this going to be a problem? We shall see!

So variable. One story will be an empty fragment, the next will be a wonderfully crafted piece of characterisation, or depiction of society, or glimpse into a semi-revealed situation. It's hard work, and best read in very small doses!

Joint read/listen. Going well so far, though the audiobook narrator isn't brilliant at French pronunciations! It took 5% of the book to introduce one character though, so I'm hoping we might actually get to a plot soon...

This isn't what I'm reading. I'm listening to an audiobook with this title but containing different stories, narrated by Jeremy Northam. Can't be bothered with the hassle of trying to get it added to the database, so this one will have to do as a substitute. I do wish Amazon would professionalise the database - the audiobook is on Audible after all. It shouldn't be too hard to merge the libraries.

Question: Is this the most miserable book ever written? Life's a bitch - roll on Death. Is there ever any humour in it, or any prospect of even a moment of happiness, for anyone? Can I bear another 14 hours of solid depression and Juliet Stevenson's woeful voice? Where's my medicinal chocolate?

Roughly 20% in and so far all that's happened is a long, long description of a tedious student party, complete with Ecstasy, booze, sex and girlfriend troubles. I'll give it another hour or so, but if it doesn't speed up, it's not a thriller. Out of interest, it has 502 pages. The Spy Who Came In from the Cold has 224. Go figure.

Roughly 20% in and so far all that's happened is a long, long description of a tedious student party, complete with Ecstasy, booze, sex and girlfriend troubles. I'll give it another hour or so, but if it doesn't speed up, it's not a thriller. Out of interest, it has 502 pages. A Spy Who Came In from the Cold has 224. Go figure.

A talking tree that's in love with a human - hmm. I really must learn to read reviews before picking books. This one is going to have to improve dramatically and quickly or it will be adding to the enormous heap of abandoned new fiction this year. Have authors lost the ability to tell a great story without resorting to nonsensical stylistic quirks? I'm beginning to fear so.

5 hours into this 19 hour mammoth and nothing - repeat, nothing - has happened. I find I actually prefer staring at the ceiling and listening to the blessed sound of silence. Reviews suggest a plot emerges at some point but life is finite and I'm not sure I want to waste any more of it...

I'll give it one more hour of my time, if I can bear it.

Reached the end of part one and here's what I've learned so far:

Fagan likes to write about sex.
Fagan knows that duality is a recurring feature in Scottish literature.
Fagan has read Scottish classics.
Racism is bad.
Sexism is bad.
Discrimination on the grounds of gender or sexual orientation is bad.
Men are misogynists.
Women are victims.
Sex is good.

I wonder what exciting revelations part two has in store...