The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens

One of the sections on my Classics Club Challenge list is called "Intimidating Novels." The ten titles in that section are all books that I am interested in reading, but apprehensive about in some way. Some of the selections, like War and Peace and Les Misѐrables, are there because of length. Others, like Ulysses and Gravity's Rainbow are there because I fear that I won't understand them. Charles Dickens' The Pickwick Papers is there for a less respectable reason. It's there because I was afraid it would be unbearably boring.

The obvious question one would ask in response to this is, "Why put the book on there at all then?" The answer is my tendency to overdo things. It's not enough that I enjoy Charles Dickens and have read several of his books. I feel a nonsensical urge to read ALL of his books, even the ones that don't sound all that interesting to me. The Pickwick Papers is Dickens' first novel, and it's basically a take on Don Quixote (because I didn't get enough of Don Quixote this year). It doesn't have a real plot, it features a group old men wandering around and getting into scrapes, and it's full of nineteenth century humor, much of which I was guaranteed to not understand. It's also 756 pages long. All of these factors made me feel less than excited about reading it, so it went into my "intimidating" category and I didn't think about it much until now, when it was time to actually pick it up and give it a try. It ended up being quite the experience.

The Pickwick Papers is set up to be the recorded adventures of four gentlemen from the Pickwick Club, a social group based in London. Their mission is to travel around the English countryside, observe interesting people and places, and report their findings back to the rest of the club. Leading this group of adventurers is the venerable Samuel Pickwick, general chairman and all-around nice guy. Mr. Pickwick is beloved by everyone who knows him, is knowledgeable about a wide variety of topics, and is considered to be a very fine gentleman indeed. He is joined on his journey by his three good friends, Tracy Tupman, Augustus Snodgrass, and Nathaniel Winkle. His buddies aren't quite as accomplished or respected as he is, but they each have their areas of expertise. Mr. Tupman is a romantic and sentimental man, prone to falling in and out of love with alarmingly unavailable women, Mr. Snodgrass is the poet of the group, despite not having written anything of note yet, and Mr. Winkle is their authority on all things athletic, even though he has never actually participated in a sport.

As the story begins, the group sets out on their first jaunt and immediately run into all manner of ridiculous situations. Mistaken identities, hilarious misunderstandings, and run ins with despicable villains characterize their travels as they go from place to place. The characters all take turns getting into scrapes and wiggling out of them again. Occasionally, they run into strangers that tell them an entertaining story, and these random little tales are also sprinkled throughout the text. Around page 165, Mr. Pickwick hires a young man named Samuel Weller to be his servant, and his Sancho Panza-like antics further add to the fun. There are too many different adventures to give a summary of each, but my favorites were definitely the episodes in which Mr. Winkle was called upon to display any form of athletic ability. He simply cannot do anything he is called to do. He tries to ice skate and immediately falls. He tries to ride a horse and immediately loses control of it. He tries to hunt and immediately shoots his friend. The poor man can't even walk and carry a rifle at the same time without putting everyone around him in imminent danger. Those parts were genuinely, laugh-out-loud funny. Also funny were the sections featuring Joe, a servant boy characterized entirely by his prodigious weight, gluttonous eating habits, and propensity to fall asleep at every opportunity.

As I mentioned previously, The Pickwick Papers was Dickens' first novel and it was a hugely successful endeavor for him. It became wildly popular almost immediately and catapulted him to literary fame. It was originally published serially in nineteen little volumes over the course of twenty months. The adventures in each volume are episodic in nature and only loosely connected to each other. There isn't one overarching narrative to follow, just a lot of little, funny stories to enjoy. When the text was first published as a single novel, Dickens himself wrote an introduction explaining that the story was originally meant to be enjoyed in pieces, and acknowledging that the connections between the different episodes weren't particularly strong.

He was right to include this note, because it helps put this novel in the proper context for readers. Without knowing about the original format of the story and the reason for the lack of flow across the sections, The Pickwick Papers would be an incredibly frustrating reading experience. As it was, this felt extremely long and repetitive. Reading one silly episode after another for over 750 pages was difficult. By the time I got around halfway through, I felt like I would be reading this book forever. To make matters worse, some of the episodes relied on topical humor of the Victorian period, which I obviously couldn't fully understand. I went into my reading concerned that this would be boring, and a lot of it really was.

That's not to say things were all bad though. Many of the chapters were genuinely funny, and almost all of the characters were distinctive and lovable. It was interesting to see the start of Dickens' writing career too. The beginnings of his characteristic humor and style were plainly visible throughout the pages. I liked much of what I read, there was just an awful lot of it--too much to read straight through and continually stay engaged with. It would be much better to read this in chunks, in imitation of the way it originally was published.

As this is a comic novel, there aren't too many themes to dive into in this review. Of course, Dickens comments on several issues of the day through his jokes, and he lampoons the court system, lawyers, religion, and politics throughout the story. The sections about debtor's prisons in particular contain the saddest scenes in the book. It's clear that Dickens considered these places cruel. Most of his social commentary isn't too serious or deep though, and the tone remains light and silly for most of the book. The primary purpose of the work is entertainment, and it generally stays in its lane.

When I have preconceived notions about a book, I usually find out that I was wrong when I actually read it. In this case, however, my instincts were correct. The Pickwick Papers is a difficult read. It is not too hard to understand, but it is very, very long and its repetitive structure makes it pretty boring for a modern audience. As a fan of Charles Dickens, however, I'm glad that I got through it. The slow parts weren't fun, but it was worth struggling through them to experience the first work of one of my favorite authors. Plus, I can cross one of the most difficult remaining classics off my list, so, all in all, I'm counting this one as a success.      


Challenge Tally
Classics Club (#63 on my list): 61/100 


Total Books Read in 2019: 79

Shirley by Charlotte Bronte

For my next read, I picked another book off my Classics Club list. I decided to try Charlotte Brontё's Shirley. I have read a few of Brontё's other novels over the years, and always enjoyed them, so I figured that this would be the same. I didn't know anything about the plot ahead of time, so I went into my reading hoping for another darkly romantic tale, similar to Jane Eyre. As it turned out, I really couldn't have been further off.

The story is set during the early 1800s in Yorkshire. The Napoleonic Wars are raging, and the effects are taking a heavy toll on local business owners. Laws have been enacted that limit where they can export their goods, which means that warehouses are piling up with unsold products and manufacturers are struggling to keep afloat. Robert Moore, a cloth producer, has opted to introduce new machinery into his mill in order to cut down on labor costs. The workers of the region are incensed at this loss of jobs and are threatening to destroy his machinery in order to force Moore to start hiring people again. Moore, never one to be intimidated by anyone, refuses to acquiesce to the workers' demands. He installs the machines and defends his property. Even with these measures, however, his business is still struggling to turn a profit.

In an effort to generate more capital for himself, Moore considers marrying the wealthy Shirley Keeldar. She has recently come of age and inherited the property his mill sits on, along with a healthy amount of money and other investments as well. Shirley is unlike the other women of the time period, owing to the power and wealth her inheritance has brought her. She is beautiful, outgoing, and fiercely independent. She very much enjoys her unusual position as a female landowner, and acts like a man in the way she takes control of her household. Robert gets along well with her, and marrying her would bring him many financial benefits, but he is hesitant to commit. His heart already belongs to his distant relative, Caroline Helstone, although he has never made any formal advances towards her.

Caroline lives nearby with her uncle and is a frequent guest in the Moore's household. She is also hopelessly in love with Robert, but she is far too shy and proper to reveal her feelings. She is timid, lacks self-confidence, and is very conventional. However, despite these differences, she becomes fast friends with Shirley. It is quite difficult for her to watch Robert and Shirley grow closer, but she tries to accept Robert's feelings and enjoy her new friendship. Meanwhile, Shirley finds herself developing feelings for a man from her past, who is much lower in status than her, and therefore, an unsuitable choice for marriage.

The novel follows all of these characters as they try to sort out their relationships, their financial situations, and their places in society. Shirley is a novel about expectations - about those who choose to follow them and about those who choose to defy them, and how those choices influence their future happiness.

I knew that I was in for a rather slow reading experience with this one from the start, because Charlotte Brontё was kind enough to tell her audience so on the first page. She explains that, "something real, cool, and solid, lies before you; something unromantic as Monday morning." She wasn't kidding either. Shirley is a long, rambling journey of a novel that hops around between many different themes and ideas. The backdrop of the Napoleonic Wars forms an important part of this, as its economic effects on the region are intense. Robert's choice to start mechanizing his mill sets off riots, sabotage attempts, and physical violence. He regrets that he can't afford to keep employing people, but he feels like the politics of the day put him in an impossible position. His situation raises interesting questions about the relationship between politics and industry, the impact of new technology on the workforce, and how much responsibility the wealthy should have for the poor.

Unlike in most of the other novels I have read that involve industrial unrest, Brontё is sympathetic to the business owners of the story, and shows how they suffer and struggle during difficult economic times. She does not imply that they suffer in the same ways or to the same degree as the working poor, but she does show their perspective and portrays them as generally good people that are desperately trying to keep their various enterprises afloat. It is clear that Robert, though he has his flaws, is meant to be seen as one of the most intelligent and respectable characters. It actually felt a bit odd to see the characters on the richer end of the social scale portrayed so positively, especially when their actions directly cause the poorer characters to suffer. It was a more balanced portrayal than I was used to.

While Robert's business difficulties form the background for the events of the story, the main characters of the novel are undoubtedly the outgoing, charismatic Shirley and quiet, proper Caroline. Watching how these very different friends function within the plot was quite interesting. Shirley frequently operates outside the rules of society, relishing her independence and approaching each of her interactions with more than a little spunk. Her inheritance gives her power, and she isn't shy about using it. Conversely, Caroline is a rules-follower and a conventional woman of the time period in most respects. She is shy, submissive, and does not try to act outside of her expected role. In addition to her more quiet characteristics, she is kind, intelligent, and level-headed, which stands in contrast to Shirley's more volatile personality. She is desperately in love with Robert, but doesn't speak up for what she wants, so she is continually disappointed in her romantic hopes. Without a husband or family to take care of, she has trouble filling her hours. At one point, she attempts to seek out a governess job, but is forbidden from this endeavor by her uncle. So, she remains lonely and bored while Shirley keeps busy with the various duties of taking care of her inheritance.

Watching Shirley and Caroline strive towards their personal goals from such opposite perspectives form the bulk of the novel's 600 pages. The plot is very character-driven, and explores the economics, politics, and gender roles of the time period, with a heavy emphasis on how different sorts of people set out to create their own futures, whether that be through business, strategic social-climbing, or romance. While these topics were certainly interesting to analyze, I have to admit that this novel felt over-long. There were several sections that didn't advance the plot at all, and the pacing was very slow. Shirley doesn't come into the novel until page 200. Another major character doesn't enter into the story until page 400. Upon reflection, there wasn't much story to this novel at all; it was mostly a long, thoughtful meander towards two marriages.

That being said, I didn't dislike this novel. However, it's not destined to become a favorite of mine either. I liked the exploration of the issues of the time period and the feminist themes that ran throughout the story. I wasn't a fan of the slow plot and lack of a strong narrative. I was also somewhat disappointed with the ending, as it fell back on tired tropes of the time period. For a book that centered around an unconventional, independent woman, the conclusion was extremely conventional, with both Shirley and Caroline receiving more or less the same (socially acceptable) ending to their stories.

Shirley is a novel that is exactly interesting enough for one reading. I'm glad I experienced it, but I don't see myself ever wanting to do it again. In finishing it, I have now read all of Charlotte Brontë's novels, and I have to say that this is my least favorite out of the four. As always though, I appreciate the journey of reading these classic works and I continue to learn and grow from each one I finish. I am happy to be able to cross Shirley off my Classics Club list and move on to my next adventure.


Challenge Tally
Classics Club (#53 on my list): 60/100 


Total Books Read in 2019: 78

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides

For my next read, I found myself craving a fast-paced mystery story. I don't often pick up books from that genre, but when I do, I generally have a good time with them. I decided to try Alex Michaelides' The Silent Patient after seeing it nominated in both the "Best Mystery & Thriller" and "Best Debut Novel" categories of the Goodreads Choice Awards this year. I started my reading hoping to be swept away in an engaging story, and happily, I wasn't disappointed.

The plot follows Dr. Theo Faber, a criminal psychotherapist. At the start of the novel, he accepts a new job in the psychiatric ward of a hospital. Among his new patients is the infamous Alicia Berenson, a famous artist convicted of the gruesome murder of her husband. She shot him five times in the face one night six years ago and then went silent. She hasn't spoken a single word since, and no one has been able to determine why she did it. Her silence intrigues Theo, and he immediately sets out to try and get her talking. He quickly become infatuated with Alicia's case, and, unable to help himself, he begins to go beyond the bounds of normal therapy. He starts seeking out friends and family members from Alicia's past and asking questions. He soon discovers that there is more going on with his silent patient than mental illness, and solving the mystery of her crime reveals many secrets that others would prefer to stay buried.

This novel was definitely a page-turner, and a big part of its success was Michaelides' structure. Interspersed with Theo's narration are bits and pieces of Alicia's diary, which paint a very different picture of events than the version Theo obtains from his own investigations and the official record of events. As Alicia is clearly an unreliable narrator, this push and pull between conflicting pieces of information keeps the reader guessing throughout the story. It's tough to know how much of Alicia's sections to believe, as she is obviously suffering from some form of mental illness, but everyone Theo interviews about her is so shady that it feels unwise to discount what she says entirely. Eventually, the diary entries and Theo's narration collide, with pretty surprising results.

The characters in the novel were suitably developed as well, with both Theo and Alicia having multiple layers to their personalities that are revealed over time. Interestingly, neither of them are particularly likable or sympathetic, but their less-likable aspects are what drive the plot of the story, so this didn't bother me while reading. If Theo wasn't inappropriate and kind of creepy, and if Alicia wasn't dramatic and emotionally damaged, the story couldn't exist.This is not a "nice" story, thus, the characters aren't particularly nice people. The minor characters are nothing special, but they serve their purpose and are about what you would expect in a mystery/suspense novel.

Where the story fell a bit flat for me was the ending. While I didn't guess the final twist, I didn't think it made all that much sense either upon a closer examination. I think Michaelides had a great idea for the last big reveal, and I did think it was creative and clever, but his way of getting there wasn't quite as tight as it could have been. Upon thinking over the previous events in the book after knowing the ending, I found myself questioning why certain people would act the way they do or care about the things they care about. Obviously, a novel in this genre is going to have a lot of red herrings along the way, but it seems like people were going too far out of their way to look guilty when they weren't.

So due to my feelings on the ending, I ended up rating The Silent Patient a three out of five. It was still a very enjoyable and quick read, and I would recommend it to anyone who is a fan of this genre. The ending left me wanting a little more, but it was a fun and engaging reading experience overall. I'm glad I took the time to scratch that itch I had to read something exciting and dramatic with this novel. 


Challenge Tally
Finally in 2019: 48/6 Books Read - Complete!

Total Books Read in 2019: 77

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

I decided to tackle Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle as my next Classics Club book. I read Slaughterhouse-Five last August and really enjoyed it, so I figured that I would probably like this one too. Cat's Cradle is often classified as science fiction, and that's how I categorized it on my Classics Club list, but Vonnegut is not really an author that I associate with that genre. I started my reading very curious to see how those elements would come into the text.

The novel is narrated by a man named John (although he asks the reader to call him Jonah). As the story begins, he describes how he set out to write a book about what important Americans were doing on the day the U.S. dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. One of the Americans he wants to include in his novel is Dr. Felix Hoenikker, the creator of the bomb. Dr. Hoenikker has already passed away when Jonah begins writing, so instead of interviewing him, he turns to his three children, Angela, Frank, and Newt, and his old boss, Dr. Asa Breed. He doesn't find out much of interest for his book, but he does learn that shortly before his death, Hoenikker invented a dangerous substance he called Ice-Nine. Ice-Nine has the ability to instantly freeze any liquid it touches, and in the wrong hands, it could easily destroy the planet. He runs into a dead end searching for more information about it though, and soon gives up on both that and his book.

Later, Jonah is drawn back into into the lives of Hoenikker's children when he is sent to the remote island of  San Lorenzo to write an article about a free hospital being established there. San Lorenzo is an unusual place, to say the least. It is run in a rather haphazard way by the dictator, "Papa" Monzano, who is constantly at odds with a religious leader there named Bokonon. Bokononism is full of bizarre teachings that center around a mixture of fate, cynicism, and peaceful rituals. Anyone caught practicing Bokononism is put to death by Papa Monzano, so everyone on the island denies believing in it and just practices in secret. As Jonah arrives on the island and learns more about the culture, he meets up with the Hoenikker children again. It turns out that Frank, the oldest Hoenikker son, has somehow become second in command to Papa Monzano, and is about to get married to a beautiful islander named Mona. Angela and Newt Hoenikker show up for the wedding, and through a very surreal and strange set of circumstances involving human greed and a few secret pieces of Ice-Nine, the siblings end up bringing about the end of the world.   

That summary is a very broad-strokes version of what happens in the story, but this is really one of those novels you have to read yourself to get a true picture of. Kurt Vonnegut's work is characterized by absurd plot elements and dark humor, and Cat's Cradle is no different. It's not a difficult read at all, in fact, it's a rather quick one, but it is a strange one too. It's not as easy to interpret as Slaughterhouse-Five was, but it's a worthwhile journey all the same.

The novel is spread across two main locations. The first is the town of Ilium, where Jonah begins his research for his WWII book, and the second is the island of San Lorenzo. San Lorenzo is the more important place between the two, as it is home to Bokononism, the philosophy of which forms the main themes of the novel. Life on the island is distinctive and odd. Most of the people there live in poverty, but are kept entertained and busy by the constant fight between the "good" and "evil" forces of Bokonon and Papa Monzano. Manzano rules the island with an iron fist, threatening execution by hook to anyone found practicing Bokononism. Fearing this, the islanders practice their rituals in secret, the most notable of which involves a practice in which they press the bare soles of their feet together with someone else, an intimate act that is supposed to bring peace and joy to the participants. There is more going on beneath the surface, however, and as Jonah finds out more about how the island actually functions, several themes of the novel begin to emerge. Trying to narrow it down to one specific idea is impossible; Vonnegut comments on many different topics here, including religion, war, the arms race, weapons technology, fate, and free will. Despite the seriousness of these topics, Vonnegut's treatment remains funny throughout the text, and Jonah's exploration of San Lorenzo is more like a surreal adventure than a depressing journey.

Most of the characters are very distinctive and eccentric, in typical Vonnegut style. Jonah functions a reader surrogate, so his personality is pretty normal and bland. They characters surrounding him, however, are anything but. Dr. Hoenikker, for example, is a genius with laser-focus on what interests him, but not much patience for anything else. Felix Hoenikker, is a little person, who creates artwork of dubious quality and takes multiple insensitive remarks about his height in stride throughout the text. Mona Aamons Manzano is a woman so beautiful that everyone who sees her falls in love with her. Each of the minor characters have their own quirks, making for a very memorable and funny reading experience. As the novel moves from event to event quite quickly and irreverently, readers don't get to know the characters particularly well, or see them grow throughout the text. That really isn't the point here though; it's not that kind of novel. The characters function mostly to parody concepts or illustrate different themes.

As for my interest in what the science fiction elements of this novel are, I have to say that I didn't find many of them. Obviously, the inclusion of Ice-Nine justifies its placement in that genre, but the story wasn't really centered around that. I would call Cat's Cradle a dark comedy novel or simply a post-modern work of literature before I would call it science fiction. The absurdity of the plot, the fragmented structure, and the parody of war and religious elements are much bigger factors in my overall impression of the work than the minor science fiction aspects of it.

So even though I was expecting a different kind of story based on how this novel is typically classified, I still enjoyed it. As far as determining a deeper meaning to it all or identifying one unifying theme though, I'm lost. Vonnegut comments on so many things and throws so many odd events into the mix that it's not easy to wrap your head around after one reading. It's anti-war in parts, poking fun at religion in parts, and questioning the free will of the human race in parts. I get the sense that this is one of those books that you can read several times and take something different away from it after each time. I didn't enjoy this one quite as much as I enjoyed Slaughterhouse-Five, but it was still a great read and definitely a requirement for fans of Vonnegut's work.


Challenge Tally
Classics Club (#46 on my list): 59/100 


Total Books Read in 2019: 76

The Secret Commonwealth by Philip Pullman

The Secret Commonwealth is the second book in Philip Pullman's The Book of Dust, a companion series to His Dark Materials.  After reading (and loving) the first book in this series a few weeks ago, I was excited to continue on with it. I've been reading in a pattern lately; I alternate one novel from my Classics Club list with a novel of my choice. So, after taking about a week to read The Octopus by Frank Norris, I picked this one up next.

The plot of the novel is difficult to describe, as this is the middle book of a trilogy and it follows a few different characters on very different missions. Most of the focus is placed on Lyra, who is now an adult attending college. Her whole demeanor has changed from the girl she was in the previous books. Her feisty, courageous nature has been replaced with a melancholy, subdued one, and her relationship with her daemon Pan is very strained. Her previous adventures in the North feel like they happened in another lifetime, and her days have become normal and lonely. She is thrust into the thick of an adventure again, however, when Pan witnesses a brutal murder one night and comes into possession of some curious information about a mysterious breed of rose that can only be grown in a desert in the Middle East. It has some sort of connection to Dust, but the exact details of what it can do are vague. Reading about the rose sparks some sort of memory in Lyra, and she feels drawn to try and find the place where it grows. Before she can set out, however, she has a massive falling out with Pan and her focus shifts to healing the rift between them.

At the same time the Magisterium has been quietly consolidating their power. They are on the hunt for roses too, but their objective seems to be to destroy them. A new leader has emerged and he is also searching for Lyra, for reasons that start off unclear. Malcolm Polstead and Alice, the duo that rescued Lyra as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, are involved in the story as well. They are adults now too, with Alice working as a housekeeper at Oxford College and Malcolm working as a professor at a different university. A large portion of the story is told from Malcolm's perspective, as he is also working for a secret spy group and is tasked with investigating the roses. He is also trying to help keep Lyra safe, and finds himself starting to develop romantic feelings for her as the story goes on.

The novel follows the paths of these different characters as they embark on their separate adventures. The threads of each story slowly wind towards each other, with the novel ending on a cliffhanger. It is clear that everything will eventually come together, but The Secret Commonwealth offers little resolution to any of the storylines. Readers will have to wait for the last book in the trilogy to discover how Lyra's relationships with Pan and Malcolm, the business with the roses, and the Magisterium's plots turn out.

I did like this novel, but it definitely felt like a middle book to me. Unlike La Belle Sauvage, this is not a self-contained adventure at all. It's half of a story, and at over 600 pages, it felt like a lot of buildup to wade through for no resolution at the end. There wasn't anything wrong with the buildup itself though. As always, it was a treat to explore Pullman's alternate version of the universe. This story takes place entirely inside Lyra's world, but her travels in search of the roses bring her to Middle Eastern-inspired corners of it that we haven't visited before. It was interesting to see new pieces of it and learn about the different cultures there. The daemon system is developed more thoroughly here too, with additional information being given about how separation between humans and daemons works and how the relationships between these groups don't always function the way they are meant to. Pullman's world building continues to be exceptional, and I definitely felt transported away to another place while reading.

The characters were similarly well developed across the story, with the new characters being intriguing and the old characters revealing new sides of themselves. As this novel jumps forward quite far in time from the first book in the series, everyone is much older and views the world differently now. It was interesting to be able to compare the personalities of the characters across the intervening years. There were some characters that grew in strength and became better versions of themselves, like Malcolm and Alice, for example, and some characters that felt diminished, like Lyra and Pan. While I didn't always love everyone's personality or choices, there were no parts of their development that I would judge to be unrealistic. For example, I was disappointed that Lyra had grown to be so practical and gloomy, but I also realize that this is a logical outcome for her character. Anyone who had been through the struggles she had at the end of her adventure in The Amber Spyglass would probably go to a melancholy place readjusting to normal life. This humanizes her, although I do hope that her growth will continue into the third book and she will gain a little bit of her magic back.

In general, the plot of the novel was interesting and engaging, but it did feel a bit slow in parts. As I mentioned before, there is a cliffhanger ending here and almost no resolution to any of the storylines. Pullman is obviously gearing up for an action-packed second half to this story, and hopefully I will feel like all of this buildup will be worth it in the end. One small issue I had while reading was trying to remember all the characters and place names. There was a lot going on at once, and it was difficult to keep everything straight in my mind. As the last book in the series is almost certainly years away, I will have to reread this before diving into the conclusion. I already am having trouble remembering all the details, so there is no hope that I will be ready to read the new one without revisiting this.

As usual, I can't write a review without discussing some of the things that I didn't think worked well in the novel. There were definitely a few elements throughout the story that I was uncomfortable with. It pains me to say it, since I love this world and these characters so much, but there was some creepy sexual stuff going on that I didn't like. One of these elements was Malcolm's growing romantic interest in Lyra. He is ten years older than her and first met her when she was a baby. He was her teacher for a brief time when she was a young teenager too. While ten years isn't that uncommon of an age gap between romantic partners, these particular characters' past interactions all involve Malcolm taking on a parental or authoritative-type role with Lyra, which makes the idea of a romance between them distasteful to me. Throughout the story, Lyra starts to feel a growing attachment to him as well, so I'm pretty certain that this relationship is a thing that will happen. This will probably form a large part of the final book, so that's disappointing to me because I find it unsettling.

There is another moment in the novel when Lyra is sexually assaulted on a train by a group of soldiers. She fights back and is terribly injured. I dislike seeing sexual violence used as a plot device in general, but in a series for young adults, in which we have followed a character since infancy, this felt too brutal. At this point in the story, Lyra was already in danger, already suffering, already alone. This was gratuitous and unnecessary.

I have to mention another odd sexual moment, less serious than the rest, that irked me. At one point, Alice is called into an obviously ominous meeting with some Magisterium officials. Pullman describes her entrance into the room like this:

She sat down in the third chair in front of the desk, between the two strangers. Alice was slim, she could move with great elegance, she was not beautiful--she would never be that, nor pretty, nor conventionally attractive--but she could embody an intense sexuality...She let it show now, just to disconcert them.

Ah yes, the old "switch on my intense sexuality at will" trick to make people uncomfortable. A club every woman has in their bag, right?

Only a man would think to describe a woman in this way.

These moments didn't stop me from enjoying the novel as a whole though, and I am still a big fan of this series. I can forgive some less than ideal moments. The Secret Commonwealth just released about a month or so ago, so the final installment in the trilogy is very far away. I'm still not clear on what the ultimate themes of the story will be, or how the characters will end up. What I do know is that this novel was engaging enough for me to be excited to find out.


Challenge Tally
Finally in 2019: 47/6 Books Read - Complete!

Total Books Read in 2019: 75

The Octopus by Frank Norris

As 2019 winds down, I'm continuing to chip away at my Classics Club list. This is my third year of working on it, and I'm almost completely caught up to where I'm supposed to be. After falling behind last year, I've made up a lot of ground in this one. This is book number 58 for me, and if I can make it to 60 books read by the end of the year, I will be right back on track.

For my next read, I picked up The Octopus by Frank Norris. I had this one on my list because I read Norris' McTeague in college and I really enjoyed it. I had always wanted to try another novel by him, and The Octopus is regarded as one of his most notable works, so I decided to give it a try.

The plot tells the story of an epic battle between several wheat farmers in the San Joaquin Valley in California and the Pacific and Southwestern Railroad (P&SW) in the late 1800s. As the novel begins, the farmers and the railroad are locked in a struggle regarding how much the P&SW charges for shipping wheat across the country. The farmers believe that the railroad's grain rates are predatory and attempt to take legal action against them, but the railroad has so many judges and lawyers in their pocket that their efforts are fruitless. Intense anger continues to simmer between the two groups as the farmers continually try and fail to push back against the railroad's financial abuses. Eventually, all of this hostility boils over when the P&SW tries to take direct ownership of the largest ranches in the area using some shady legal maneuvering. Enraged, the farmers prepare to do battle against this impossibly large enemy with an endless reserve of resources. The Octopus is a novel about corruption, big business, corporate greed, and what happens when people try to stand up against these seemingly unstoppable forces.

On it's face, a book about a conflict between old-timey wheat farmers and railroad tycoons does not exactly seem like thrilling reading, but this was actually an engaging story. The California setting felt very quintessentially American, almost like a Steinbeck novel. The vast wheat ranches were lovingly written, with a clear appreciation for both nature's bounty and for the hardworking men who pull sustenance from it. Interestingly, Norris' description of the farming process frequently drifted into the sexual, with passages like this appearing regularly:

It was the long stroking caress, vigorous, male, powerful, for which the earth seemed panting. The heroic embrace of a multitude of iron hands, gripping deep into the brown, warm flesh of the land that quivered responsive and passionate under this rude advance, so robust as to be almost an assault, so violent as to be veritably brutal. There, under the sun and under the speckless sheen of the sky, the wooing of the Titan began, the vast, primal passion, the two world-forces, the elemental Male and Female, locked in a colossal embrace, at grapples in the throes of an infinite desire, at once terrible and divine, knowing no law, untamed, savage, natural, sublime.

I bet you never knew plowing could be so...stimulating.

The railroad itself is described in far more vicious terms. While it is clear that Norris wanted the farmers and their wheat to be seen as a natural, right, and almost holy partnership, the railroad is a crass invader, the eponymous octopus whose tentacles reach out and strangle everything in its path. As one character describes it, it is a "...galloping monster, [a] terror of steel and steam, with its single eye, cyclopean, red, shooting from horizon to horizon...the symbol of a vast power, huge, terrible, flinging with the echo of its thunder over all the reaches of the valley, leaving blood and destruction in its path; the leviathan, with tentacles of steel clutching into the soil." Just as the ranchers are likened to lovers of the earth, the railroad is likened to a rapist, invading the soil and leaving fear and destruction in its wake.

What makes all of this artistic hyperbole especially intriguing is the fact that both elements can't really survive without the other. The farmers need a way to ship their crops over large distances, and the railroad needs freight to ship. It's an interesting relationship to analyze, as both sides are big industries trying to make a profit that have to work together. While the farmers are undoubtedly supposed to be the sympathetic characters, they are far from perfect. Norris describes how they farm recklessly, ignoring good practices like allowing the land to rest between planting seasons in the interest of earning as big of a payout as possible each year. Their way of work will eventually deplete the land they so claim to love and revere. In many ways, they are the same in their ruthless ambitions as the railroad, it's just that they have less power, less money, and they take advantage of a resource that can't fight back - the soil. It's not so much a battle of good versus evil going on here as it is a battle of light evil versus heavy evil, and this idea was really thought-provoking.

The narration of the novel shifts around between several characters involved in the conflict, giving you the perspectives of people at many different levels of power. This is why I haven't mentioned specific character names up to this point. There is no one main character here. Everyone, from the rich to the poor and the loved to the reviled, get a turn in the spotlight. All of the characters have distinct personalities and concerns too, which kept the story moving and interesting. One of my favorites was definitely Annixter, one of the irascible, eccentric ranch owners. He had a secondary storyline in which he reformed himself through love that was rather sweet. Another favorite was Dyke. an railroad engineer that was fired after refusing to accept a pay cut from the P&SW after ten years of faultless service. His love for his young daughter Sydney, who he calls "the little tad" was charming. 

The sheer volume of different people involved in the story did get a bit confusing at times, so I ended up keeping a page of notes while I read. I jotted down the main characters and a few key personality traits for each as I went along, and this really helped me keep everything straight in my mind. I ended up keeping track of 18 different people, and I could have added a few more as the novel progressed, but I stopped once I got most of the way through. While the novel isn't difficult to read, and taking notes certainly isn't necessary to understanding it, if you are the kind of reader who struggles to remember character names, I recommend doing it.

Another element of the story that I ended up taking a few notes on were the various schemes and plans going on between the farmers and the railroad. The P&SW is a corrupt organization, and making a little chart keeping track of the legal gymnastics they did to cheat the farmers was very helpful. Similarly, when the farmers dabbled in some bribery themselves, keeping track of who was paying off who and what the results were supposed to be kept me engaged with the story. Norris does a good job of explaining everyone's plans (and repeating the details enough to clear up confusion), but I liked having key points written down. At 652 pages, there was a lot going on in The Octopus, so notes helped.

Overall, I thought the novel was interesting and epic, but there were definitely some parts of it that I didn't think worked very well. Norris' female characters leave a lot to be desired. Most of them are submissive and weak, and defined mostly by their physical traits, like "oriental eyes" or "milk white arms." There's also a character named Vanamee who inexplicably has a supernatural power to call people to him telepathically. His inclusion in the story feels random and odd, like he belongs in a different book. Even worse, all his powers end up yielding him is an unsettling sexual relationship with a young girl. The symbolism was also very heavy-handed. Norris really spelled out his metaphors across the text, frequently leaving little to the imagination.

I was somewhat disappointed in the end of the novel as well. The Octopus is from the Naturalism period. These types of novels are characterized by realistic depictions of the tough parts of society. One expects brutal realism, many failures, and lots of death while reading one of these novels. While The Octopus had all of those elements (including some scenes that were so depressing they were difficult to read), Norris takes a strange turn in the novel's closing pages. After 650 pages of the railroad delivering blow after blow to the farmers, the last two pages of the book assert that readers shouldn't give up hope, because although things may be tough now, life goes on and everything will turn out right in the end. This theme is a complete mismatch to all of the events that came before it and was a strange way to end the story.

Despite those issues, however, The Octopus was an interesting and memorable read. It reminded me a lot of other novels dealing with the abuses of big business, like The Jungle and Germinal. This felt like one of those novels so rich in symbolism and historical significance that it should be taught in schools. In truth, it's way too long for that, but there is a lot of material in it that is easy to analyze and would sound great in a term paper. I felt like I was back in English class while reading it and taking my little notes, in a good way.

This book was meant to be the first in a trilogy all centered around wheat. The second book, The Pit, deals with Chicago wheat speculation, and the third book The Wolf, was meant to be about introducing wheat to Europe or Asia after a famine. Sadly, Norris died before he could write The Wolf, but I have The Pit sitting on my bookshelf, and I will definitely get around to it one day. I just can't get enough of wheat, I guess. In any case, I am quite happy with The Octopus, and I am very glad to have chosen it for my Classics Club list.


Challenge Tally
Classics Club (#34 on my list): 58/100 


Total Books Read in 2019: 74

La Belle Sauvage by Philip Pullman

After taking a little break from His Dark Materials after I finished the original trilogy of books last month, I decided I was ready to give Philip Pullman's companion series a try. La Belle Sauvage is the first volume in The Book of Dust, a new trilogy set in Lyra's world. I watched (and loved) the first episode of the new Dark Materials HBO series a few weeks ago, so I was extra excited to get back into this universe and see what other secrets there were to uncover.

The plot of the novel follows a young boy named Malcolm Polstead. As the story begins, Malcolm is living a quiet life, helping his parents run The Trout, their tavern and inn. He is a smart, kind boy that enjoys learning, asking questions, and puttering around the river in his small canoe, La Belle Sauvage. His peaceful existence is upended, however, with the arrival of a little baby named Lyra at a neighboring priory. There is an unusual amount of attention surrounding the baby, and soon, all kinds of odd strangers are turning up at his inn, staring across the river at the priory and asking questions.

Malcolm himself is curious about the infant, so he goes to visit the nuns at the priory in the hopes of meeting her. He falls in love with Lyra at first sight, and starts visiting there quite a bit. He also starts paying more attention to the different groups asking about the child, which include various agencies of the all-powerful Magisterium, some powerful government figures, and a mysterious and sinister stranger with a horrifying hyena daemon named Gerard Bonneville. It is obvious that the baby is in danger, and Malcolm takes it upon himself to protect her as much as he can.

Things finally reach their breaking point on a stormy night when the river floods its banks, unleashing a torrent of water into the town. Malcolm is forced to rescue Lyra from a kidnapping attempt and take her away in La Belle Sauvage. Alice, a rather prickly and taciturn girl that works with him at the inn, is also caught up in the escape and joins Malcolm and Lyra on their journey. Together, they must fight off the elements, multiple pursuers, and even some supernatural obstacles to try and save Lyra's life.

This summary is woefully inadequate in describing just how epic and beautiful this book was. This is a true adventure story, complete with lovable characters, narrow escapes, ideas worth fighting for, and some truly chilling moments. I was consistently engaged in the story and never found myself feeling bored, despite it being 450 pages long. A big part of this was my love for the protagonist, Malcolm. He is a quiet kind of hero - one who believes in politeness and helping others. He is thoughtful and sensitive, but not cowardly. He is smart and curious, but not weak. He approaches every task before him with good humor and honest effort. He's not an invincible sort of hero. He's a human one that's easy to root for. Compared with Will, the protagonist from the original Dark Materials trilogy, Malcolm was much more interesting and likable for me.

The plot of the novel was nicely structured as well.  A little bit over half of the story takes place before the flood, which provides a rich background for the survival adventure that follows once Malcolm, Lyra, and Alice set off in La Belle Sauvage. Once their journey starts, the action increases considerably as they have to evade the Magisterium, find enough provisions to keep themselves alive, and escape the mysterious and deranged Gerard Bonneville. The ending is satisfying and heartwarming, and provides a sweet bridge to the The Golden Compass. Simply put, I had a great time reading this novel. I actually ended up being surprised by how much I liked it, which is one of the best things a reader can ask for.

In comparison to the original series, I would place La Belle Sauvage as my second favorite, right after The Golden Compass. When authors return to an older work after a long time has passed, there is always that little bit of apprehension that the new stories won't be as good, or won't feel the same. I didn't feel that at all here, and I even ended up enjoying it more than most of the original series. This was a wonderful addition to the world of His Dark Materials, and I look forward to exploring the rest of the books that will be in this companion trilogy.


Challenge Tally
Finally in 2019: 46/6 Books Read - Complete!

Total Books Read in 2019: 73