I can not get into this book right now. I can't explain why, or why it's been so difficult for me to get past the second chapter. For whatever reason I simply can not rouse myself to read Anne right now. Too many "life lesson" stories lately? Not sure. But this is one I'll have to pick up later because I am determined to read it...eventually.
Meanwhile, I'm juggling "Middlemarch" and "The Spy Who..." pretty well. I try not to read them back to back; it would be a little too jarring. I'm hoping to have more time through the coming week to read than I did this past week. Family obligations always come first, but in the coming days they are going to be obligations that are closer to home.
Oh, and I had a light bulb moment when thinking about "Middlemarch". Again, not sure why it hadn't occurred to me before, but I suddenly realized that Eliot had deliberately made these people twits. Maybe as I get further into the book my suspicion will be confirmed, but considering when it was written, it is a definite possibility. I'm trying not to read any sort of reviews regarding any of the books I have on my list (other than FitG reviews), because I want to come at the stories with an open mind and no voices in my head. This is why I can't tell you for certain if this book was meant to be a bit critical of the way certain people thought and acted in that age. I suppose I'll just have to see.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
I'm Stuck in the "Middle" and Feeling "Cold"
So I picked up a copy of Middlemarch while I was at the library. I am three chapters into it so far, and all I can say is: these people are twits. I don't know how else to describe them. The main female character seems bent on self-torture via Victorian Purity, and the young man who wants her does so because he needs someone to tell him what to do. The uncle is scatter brained, going off in all directions of thought, all the while considering himself a "man of the world" and "very well educated". The only one I can relate to at all is the youngest sister, who has no qualms about enjoying jewelry, slight flirtations, and feels that she somehow has to live up to her sister's austere presence, while at the same time not understanding it. Poor dear. I'm afraid I'm going to thoroughly dislike her before the story is over. *sigh* The scene painting is so drawn out that at times I feel like banging my head into the wall. I try to remind myself that it was written in a different time, and so there were different standards in editing and writing. Still...two pages dedicated to how green hills in the foggy morning look seems a bit extreme. But I haven't lost hope. No sir, not when I have about 1,000 more pages to read. Who knows what will happen over the passing years to change these people and this place. Hopefully plenty.
I also picked up "The Spy Who Came in From the Cold". Okay, this is touted to be a "man's book", but I have to admit, right now, I'm really enjoying it. I'm usually not a deep political intrigue kind of gal, but somehow I can relate to the main character. Pulled one way, then another, and all the time trying to play it cool. I particularly enjoy the scenes that le Carre has painted, and found it very easy to slip right into the place of the characters. I have a feeling that I'll be finishing this book first, and not just because it's a much, much shorter read than Middlemarch. I'll keep my fingers crossed that I continue to like this book as much as I do right now.
I also picked up "The Spy Who Came in From the Cold". Okay, this is touted to be a "man's book", but I have to admit, right now, I'm really enjoying it. I'm usually not a deep political intrigue kind of gal, but somehow I can relate to the main character. Pulled one way, then another, and all the time trying to play it cool. I particularly enjoy the scenes that le Carre has painted, and found it very easy to slip right into the place of the characters. I have a feeling that I'll be finishing this book first, and not just because it's a much, much shorter read than Middlemarch. I'll keep my fingers crossed that I continue to like this book as much as I do right now.
"An Old Fashioned Girl" Review
Have you ever read a book that makes you feel...good? I mean, just really, really good? And it makes you want to go out and do good things? Be a better person? "An Old Fashioned Girl" is one of those books.
Louisa May Alcott was great at this sort of thing. With her "Little Women" book and those that followed, she gave you some very sweet, very honest glimpses into the lives of her characters. They were real people for you, living a real life, with all the problems that people of their time would have. But with this book, it felt like all of that was magnified.
The book follows Polly, the country "old fashioned girl", who goes to stay with family friends in the city for a few weeks every year. It shows her confused by their attitudes, unsure as to why everyone is so determined to be what they're not, and her character in remembering her mother's life lessons. We follow Polly, along with her friend Fanny, Fanny's brother, Fanny's little sister, and of course Fanny's parents, through several years. It's gratifying to see how Polly's actions change the family, and how her attitude gives them the little lifts they need. Even when the worst happens to them, they have Polly's sage advice and ready smile to help them get through.
Polly isn't perfect. She never claims to be perfect. In fact, she's really very hard on herself for her foibles. But you see her try, see her go on, see her digging for the good out of the bad. It makes it easy to relate to her character, even though the story is framed in a time where they still drove horse and buggies.
"An Old Fashioned Girl" is also a cautionary tale about wrapping yourself in material possessions, in being caught up in too many worldly things, in losing sight of what it is to be a human being instead of a status symbol, and where true happiness lies. Reading this book reminded me of all the old sayings my grandmother used to lace through her conversations. "Idle hands are the devil's playground"; "Never judge a book by its cover"; "Beauty is inward and will tell outward". All those things that sometimes we hear, but don't ever consider or truly understand.
I loved reading this book. While it wasn't a difficult read (the language was easy to follow, there were no real plot twists, no mysteries to solve), it was one that definitely made me introspective. The scenes were well drawn, the pacing just right, and the characters rich and believable (for their time period). It's a definite must read, and one that you can share with your kids, or even your mother, without a blush. There is, of course, a very happy ending for all involved. But somehow I'll bet you already knew that.
A quick note: the library had to actually send off for this book from their archives. On looking in the back of the book, I found a library check-out card pocketed in the back. The dates went all the way back to 1956, and right up to 1988, when the book was obviously "retired". I have to say, it was a neat experience realizing I was holding a book in my hand that had seen so many generations of readers.
Louisa May Alcott was great at this sort of thing. With her "Little Women" book and those that followed, she gave you some very sweet, very honest glimpses into the lives of her characters. They were real people for you, living a real life, with all the problems that people of their time would have. But with this book, it felt like all of that was magnified.
The book follows Polly, the country "old fashioned girl", who goes to stay with family friends in the city for a few weeks every year. It shows her confused by their attitudes, unsure as to why everyone is so determined to be what they're not, and her character in remembering her mother's life lessons. We follow Polly, along with her friend Fanny, Fanny's brother, Fanny's little sister, and of course Fanny's parents, through several years. It's gratifying to see how Polly's actions change the family, and how her attitude gives them the little lifts they need. Even when the worst happens to them, they have Polly's sage advice and ready smile to help them get through.
Polly isn't perfect. She never claims to be perfect. In fact, she's really very hard on herself for her foibles. But you see her try, see her go on, see her digging for the good out of the bad. It makes it easy to relate to her character, even though the story is framed in a time where they still drove horse and buggies.
"An Old Fashioned Girl" is also a cautionary tale about wrapping yourself in material possessions, in being caught up in too many worldly things, in losing sight of what it is to be a human being instead of a status symbol, and where true happiness lies. Reading this book reminded me of all the old sayings my grandmother used to lace through her conversations. "Idle hands are the devil's playground"; "Never judge a book by its cover"; "Beauty is inward and will tell outward". All those things that sometimes we hear, but don't ever consider or truly understand.
I loved reading this book. While it wasn't a difficult read (the language was easy to follow, there were no real plot twists, no mysteries to solve), it was one that definitely made me introspective. The scenes were well drawn, the pacing just right, and the characters rich and believable (for their time period). It's a definite must read, and one that you can share with your kids, or even your mother, without a blush. There is, of course, a very happy ending for all involved. But somehow I'll bet you already knew that.
A quick note: the library had to actually send off for this book from their archives. On looking in the back of the book, I found a library check-out card pocketed in the back. The dates went all the way back to 1956, and right up to 1988, when the book was obviously "retired". I have to say, it was a neat experience realizing I was holding a book in my hand that had seen so many generations of readers.
Monday, May 18, 2009
"The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" Review
Anne Bronte is the sister of the seemingly more famous
The first thing that surprised me was the fact that this book is written in two ways: first, as a long letter from one man to his good friend, second, as diary entries from a young lady. I wasn’t expecting this at all, but the way it was done was very interesting. I was so caught in the story that whenever the recipient of the letter was mentioned, a statement made to him or a question asked, it was slightly jarring. The diary entries had me looking at dates, calculating times, figuring out how many weeks had passed in between, without even consciously knowing it. And those missing pieces of time definitely made a difference for me when I read what the young lady had written in the newest entry.
“The Tenant of Wildfell Hall” would have most definitely been thought of as scandalous in its day. Alcoholism, abuse, adultery, whispers of divorce, illegitimacy…it’s enough to shock a reader of the time. I found myself imaging a woman sneaking the book into her house, then secretly reading it while it was hidden in a book of Shakespeare prose. But the whole idea of the story is definitely supported by these shocking things. After all, what happens and had happened (before the opening of the book) is meant to caution people about letting their desires roll right over their common sense. Yes, some of the things that are revealed seem a heavy price to pay for making an emotional choice (a choice made without any real thought to the practical mind), but it sure makes for great reading. Plus, it does drive the point home.
I’m a sucker for sappy endings, so rest assured there is one at the end of this book. While the story is angst filled, emotionally wrenching at times, and full of great heartstring pulling moments, it is worth getting to the last chapter. No, “The Tenant of Wildfell Hall” isn’t as gothic as “
Just a quick note: this book does surround the whole idea of God, living as God would want, and general church doctrine. Not a problem for me, but in case you strongly object to God, church, or the Bible, you should be aware that this is a main theme running throughout.
Friday, May 15, 2009
It's Been Too Long
It's been a while since I've blogged, and while I could blame life (which isn't entirely untrue), I'll blame myself. I've had my nose stuck in a book every free minute I've had. Oh, but what a great book!
I'm almost done with "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall", and I can tell you it's been a very interesting read. I should be finishing it either today or tomorrow; I'll post a review as soon as I'm done. After that I plan to start "An Old Fashioned Girl" and pick up where I left off (I've read a bit of the on-line version). "Anne of Green Gables" is being read to my daughter during school time. I'll go ahead and say that I didn't expect it to be as wordy as it is, which I should have, considering how many words are tossed around in the movies. Still, it's a good, wholesome read. But I'll wait to give my review until after I've actually completed the book.
I hope everyone had a great Mother's Day. It was slightly eventful here, what with getting presents together and going out to eat. Next year, my husband's promised to cater the meal, at home, instead of fighting gag inducing crowds and suffering the inevitable hour and a half wait for a table. Seriously, what we mommy's want is to get up in the morning and have someone else take on our duties just for that day. Nothing fancy, just meals cooked, dishes done, children dealt with, house picked up, without us having to spearhead the effort. That sounds like a lovely day to me. lol
As far as my writing, well, if you know me, you know I can be a bit...um...I'll say easily distracted. You know, like the bird flying south for the winter who sees something on the ground and says, "Oooooo....shiny," and promptly leaves to flock to see the pretty glowy thing. Yep, that's me. I say this because I've been distracted the past few days by an idea that's been floating in my head for a couple of years now. A sci-fi romance, featuring an earth girl, who is your average woman just trying to survive. Anyway, I saw Star Trek (and personally, while it had it's flaws, for the most part I think it was handled brilliantly), and of course this sent me right off into my sci-fi state of mind. I really need to focus.
So, I'm off to finish homeschooling, read my books, and then, if time and life permits, I'll write some of my own stories. Though it's a toss up which one will win, considering my ever distractable mind.
I'm almost done with "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall", and I can tell you it's been a very interesting read. I should be finishing it either today or tomorrow; I'll post a review as soon as I'm done. After that I plan to start "An Old Fashioned Girl" and pick up where I left off (I've read a bit of the on-line version). "Anne of Green Gables" is being read to my daughter during school time. I'll go ahead and say that I didn't expect it to be as wordy as it is, which I should have, considering how many words are tossed around in the movies. Still, it's a good, wholesome read. But I'll wait to give my review until after I've actually completed the book.
I hope everyone had a great Mother's Day. It was slightly eventful here, what with getting presents together and going out to eat. Next year, my husband's promised to cater the meal, at home, instead of fighting gag inducing crowds and suffering the inevitable hour and a half wait for a table. Seriously, what we mommy's want is to get up in the morning and have someone else take on our duties just for that day. Nothing fancy, just meals cooked, dishes done, children dealt with, house picked up, without us having to spearhead the effort. That sounds like a lovely day to me. lol
As far as my writing, well, if you know me, you know I can be a bit...um...I'll say easily distracted. You know, like the bird flying south for the winter who sees something on the ground and says, "Oooooo....shiny," and promptly leaves to flock to see the pretty glowy thing. Yep, that's me. I say this because I've been distracted the past few days by an idea that's been floating in my head for a couple of years now. A sci-fi romance, featuring an earth girl, who is your average woman just trying to survive. Anyway, I saw Star Trek (and personally, while it had it's flaws, for the most part I think it was handled brilliantly), and of course this sent me right off into my sci-fi state of mind. I really need to focus.
So, I'm off to finish homeschooling, read my books, and then, if time and life permits, I'll write some of my own stories. Though it's a toss up which one will win, considering my ever distractable mind.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
How Much Book Could a Bookworm Worm...
Go ahead and call me crazy. No, seriously, get it out of the way. Because if you've noticed in the left hand sidebar, I am currently reading three books at once. Yep, three. Now how in the world does sane little me get herself all tied up in reading three books (along with writing two books, homeschooling two children, running a household, and generally living)? I'll tell you how. The library.
The children and I went to the library, as has become our custom, this week. Since they hadn't gotten the books we'd asked for (my son ordered a couple, too), I assumed (yeah, yeah, laugh it up) that they wouldn't have the books for me that day, either. So, being me, and since I wanted another of my books to read, I headed over to the "B" section. I found, much to my delight, a gently loved copy of "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall". Yes! I was excited. I trundled up to the counter (trundled because I was helping my children with their eight books) and handed the nice, smiling librarian our cards. And guess what? The sentences I never thought I'd hear came out of her mouth. "Oh, it looks like we have some books on hold for you. They're in the back. Let me go get them for you."
Joy! Rapture! Panic! Both of them had come in. So now I had three books, not too terribly thick but still slightly daunting, staring me in the face. I guess I'm braver than I anticipated, because not only did I check them out, I checked them out with a smile and an enthusiastic thank you.
Now I have to get my nose into my books. I figured I can trade out through the day, so I don't get too bogged down in one. I'm reading "Anne of Green Gables" to my youngest in the mornings, then in the afternoons I have either Bronte or Alcott to choose from. In the evenings, I read whichever one strikes my fancy. It's sort of decadent, really. But hey, at least it's not as bad a decadence as the chocolate cream pie I've been craving.
Let the reading continue!
The children and I went to the library, as has become our custom, this week. Since they hadn't gotten the books we'd asked for (my son ordered a couple, too), I assumed (yeah, yeah, laugh it up) that they wouldn't have the books for me that day, either. So, being me, and since I wanted another of my books to read, I headed over to the "B" section. I found, much to my delight, a gently loved copy of "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall". Yes! I was excited. I trundled up to the counter (trundled because I was helping my children with their eight books) and handed the nice, smiling librarian our cards. And guess what? The sentences I never thought I'd hear came out of her mouth. "Oh, it looks like we have some books on hold for you. They're in the back. Let me go get them for you."
Joy! Rapture! Panic! Both of them had come in. So now I had three books, not too terribly thick but still slightly daunting, staring me in the face. I guess I'm braver than I anticipated, because not only did I check them out, I checked them out with a smile and an enthusiastic thank you.
Now I have to get my nose into my books. I figured I can trade out through the day, so I don't get too bogged down in one. I'm reading "Anne of Green Gables" to my youngest in the mornings, then in the afternoons I have either Bronte or Alcott to choose from. In the evenings, I read whichever one strikes my fancy. It's sort of decadent, really. But hey, at least it's not as bad a decadence as the chocolate cream pie I've been craving.
Let the reading continue!
"The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand
I finally, finally, finished "The Fountainhead" this week. It's a monster of a book! It was very intimidating, staring at the four inch thick spine, wondering if I had the wherewithal to actually finish it, and would I even understand it. Surprisingly, I did enjoy it.
"The Fountainhead" is not nearly as difficult a read as I'd imagined. What struck me from the beginning was the whole idea of passion. Passion for money, passion for architecture, passion for position, passion for women, passion for acclaim, passion for passion's sake. I felt like I was looking down two different paths of the same subject. One man, Howard Roarke, kept his passion close to his chest. He had an honesty that scared people, and a single mindedness that drove others mad. He didn't care that he didn't fit in. He only had one great, driving need: to build structures the way he wanted. And the way he wanted was very different from the way it had "always been done". The other man, Peter Keating, had a passion for recognition, and the fame and money that came with it. He enjoyed creating buildings, yes, but it seemed to be nothing compared to his driving desire to have everything. It was a passion of self: he believed he was the best, and so he deserved to have the best. These two creatures, two sides of the same coin, had a strange love/hate relationship. It was interesting to watch the mirror images of their desires smack into each other, grapple, then pull apart, each time one wearing away just a bit of the other, all the time knowing that one couldn't survive without the other.
The book also had a heavy theme of "new vs. old". The Old Guard who still believed architecture could only be acceptable if it used all the old school thoughts. Roman and Greek, lots of frou-frou, plenty of heavy accents. The New Guy, who believed that the building should honor the world surrounding it, should be a reflection of its purpose, and of possibilities. The old, of course, does its best to smother the new, to break it down, to force it into a mold. They praised their own boy wonder, Keating, who clung to the old ways because he understood that was how to get ahead. When they couldn't break Roarke, they simply tried to destroy him in a systematic fashion. However, there were enough "new guys" to keep the modernisitic Howard Roarke working, even if it wasn't consistent work. It was fascinating to go through these trials with Roarke, to see him struggle, succeed, struggle, fail. Then to see Keating succeed, succeed, succeed, and still be unsatisfied and somehow empty.
I'll only touch on the love affairs, as they are hard to describe, but definitely twined into the story. Volatile, distraught, smothering, the sort of love that can either kill you or save you. You get to see passion reveresed, watching as each man deals with his heart in much the same way as he deals with his architecture. It's fascinating, and very disturbing.
The secondary characters were beautifully created. Even the ones who were only present for a few pages had a life of their own. The ones who were more deeply involved were cannily eased into the stories, and their part in the lives of Roarke and Keating seemed to be predestined, even if the main characters didn't realize it. Personally, I always think that if the secondary characters aren't well drawn, the story won't support itself. In this case, I think Rand could have written entire books about the supporting cast.
The only negative thing I can say is that Rand does seem to prose on and on. Maybe it's because in this day and time our culture is used to news bites, snippets of information, words tied in tight bows with minimal explanations. But I'll admit that there were times when I said, "Okay, I know that Roarke makes people uncomfortable; I don't need to be reminded every other paragraph." I also felt that it didn't take three sentences to describe a man's hair.
However, with that said, I'll tell you that it was definitely worth the read. It's a classic for a reason, and I can see why it was so sensational when first published. It's still sensational today. It's the sort of story that makes you take a long, hard look at yourself, and makes you wonder which person you are: Roarke or Keating. Or if you're maybe a little of both.
"The Fountainhead" is not nearly as difficult a read as I'd imagined. What struck me from the beginning was the whole idea of passion. Passion for money, passion for architecture, passion for position, passion for women, passion for acclaim, passion for passion's sake. I felt like I was looking down two different paths of the same subject. One man, Howard Roarke, kept his passion close to his chest. He had an honesty that scared people, and a single mindedness that drove others mad. He didn't care that he didn't fit in. He only had one great, driving need: to build structures the way he wanted. And the way he wanted was very different from the way it had "always been done". The other man, Peter Keating, had a passion for recognition, and the fame and money that came with it. He enjoyed creating buildings, yes, but it seemed to be nothing compared to his driving desire to have everything. It was a passion of self: he believed he was the best, and so he deserved to have the best. These two creatures, two sides of the same coin, had a strange love/hate relationship. It was interesting to watch the mirror images of their desires smack into each other, grapple, then pull apart, each time one wearing away just a bit of the other, all the time knowing that one couldn't survive without the other.
The book also had a heavy theme of "new vs. old". The Old Guard who still believed architecture could only be acceptable if it used all the old school thoughts. Roman and Greek, lots of frou-frou, plenty of heavy accents. The New Guy, who believed that the building should honor the world surrounding it, should be a reflection of its purpose, and of possibilities. The old, of course, does its best to smother the new, to break it down, to force it into a mold. They praised their own boy wonder, Keating, who clung to the old ways because he understood that was how to get ahead. When they couldn't break Roarke, they simply tried to destroy him in a systematic fashion. However, there were enough "new guys" to keep the modernisitic Howard Roarke working, even if it wasn't consistent work. It was fascinating to go through these trials with Roarke, to see him struggle, succeed, struggle, fail. Then to see Keating succeed, succeed, succeed, and still be unsatisfied and somehow empty.
I'll only touch on the love affairs, as they are hard to describe, but definitely twined into the story. Volatile, distraught, smothering, the sort of love that can either kill you or save you. You get to see passion reveresed, watching as each man deals with his heart in much the same way as he deals with his architecture. It's fascinating, and very disturbing.
The secondary characters were beautifully created. Even the ones who were only present for a few pages had a life of their own. The ones who were more deeply involved were cannily eased into the stories, and their part in the lives of Roarke and Keating seemed to be predestined, even if the main characters didn't realize it. Personally, I always think that if the secondary characters aren't well drawn, the story won't support itself. In this case, I think Rand could have written entire books about the supporting cast.
The only negative thing I can say is that Rand does seem to prose on and on. Maybe it's because in this day and time our culture is used to news bites, snippets of information, words tied in tight bows with minimal explanations. But I'll admit that there were times when I said, "Okay, I know that Roarke makes people uncomfortable; I don't need to be reminded every other paragraph." I also felt that it didn't take three sentences to describe a man's hair.
However, with that said, I'll tell you that it was definitely worth the read. It's a classic for a reason, and I can see why it was so sensational when first published. It's still sensational today. It's the sort of story that makes you take a long, hard look at yourself, and makes you wonder which person you are: Roarke or Keating. Or if you're maybe a little of both.
Friday, May 1, 2009
And Then There's A Twist
So I've decided God, Fate, The Great Entity Above, tried to tell me something a week or so ago. I've been having issues getting on-line. This meant that I haven't been able to read Louisa May Alcott, since my library has yet to get that book in (even though I harass them once a week). I was trying to read it slowly, to be honest. I really wanted to read it in paper form. But since I was unable to get to it without a great deal of maneuvering, I picked up a new book at the library while I was there with the kids.
I managed to score "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand. It's a well loved copy (my way of saying it's been read lots and lots), and it's as thick as my husband's arm. Looking at it I was quite intimidated. I started reading it, though, because it's been so high on my list for so long. Let me tell you, there's nothing like the opening scene of a naked young man standing on a cliff to grab your attention.
I was afraid that I might have to slog through words and phrases that don't exactly carry through to today. Boy was I wrong! Yes, I'll admit there are times when it feels like Ayn Rand might be going on a bit, but those places are, for me, few and far between. The words seem almost timeless, and the themes of old guard versus new kid, of the struggle against change, of the suffocation of new ideas and expanding minds, are definitely pertinent in any time.
Architects Howard Roark (the young upstart) and Peter Keating (the young man who doesn't want change) are the same age, in so many ways are in totally different spheres of thought, and yet are so close in ideas at certain times. When my son asked me what the story was about, I realized it was so complicated that I couldn't really give him a quick synopsis. So I thought about it, and broke it down to this: Peter Keating works to live; Howard Roark lives to work.
I'm about halfway through "The Fountainhead" and am enjoying it immensly. It's very hard to give a brief breakdown of this story, as it's really very much about the struggle of the new evolving in the land of the determinedly staid. It's also the struggle of youth growing, and becoming, and following different paths in lives that, in many ways, end up parelleling each other. The cast of background characters that help to shape their lives, intrude upon their evolution, and, at times, who are used by the main characters for reasons of their own, are interesting, colorful, and very much three dimensional. You feel their struggle, too, as they come to terms with their lives and what their presence means to either Roark or Keating, or, at times, both.
So far, Keating's life has pretty much gone down the path he wanted. He's planned it all, and he's done what he needs to acheive the stature, recognition (which he believes is always due him), and money he deserves. He's very much self-centered, and I would actually despise him if I didn't feel sorry for him. I don't know if I'll continue to pity him, as he has a streak of ruthlessness that I'm afraid is going to make him unredeemable in the end.
Roark's life is...well, it is. He makes people uncomfortable because he's one of those people who honestly don't care what other people think. No, really, he doesn't give two cents for their opinions. In fact, he seems to be more sympathetic with the buildings he creates than with the people who inhabit them. While he isn't as "colorful" as Keating in his dealings with life, I can definitely relate to him much easier than I do with Keating. Roark knows what he wants to do, build modernistic homes, and he won't compromise, which drives people crazy. He knows he needs money to survive, but he would rather live in a cardboard box than give up his ideals.
So far, I have to say I'm pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable this classic is. I'm definitely looking forward to curling up with this book tonight and reading another chapter...or three...or heck, four.
I managed to score "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand. It's a well loved copy (my way of saying it's been read lots and lots), and it's as thick as my husband's arm. Looking at it I was quite intimidated. I started reading it, though, because it's been so high on my list for so long. Let me tell you, there's nothing like the opening scene of a naked young man standing on a cliff to grab your attention.
I was afraid that I might have to slog through words and phrases that don't exactly carry through to today. Boy was I wrong! Yes, I'll admit there are times when it feels like Ayn Rand might be going on a bit, but those places are, for me, few and far between. The words seem almost timeless, and the themes of old guard versus new kid, of the struggle against change, of the suffocation of new ideas and expanding minds, are definitely pertinent in any time.
Architects Howard Roark (the young upstart) and Peter Keating (the young man who doesn't want change) are the same age, in so many ways are in totally different spheres of thought, and yet are so close in ideas at certain times. When my son asked me what the story was about, I realized it was so complicated that I couldn't really give him a quick synopsis. So I thought about it, and broke it down to this: Peter Keating works to live; Howard Roark lives to work.
I'm about halfway through "The Fountainhead" and am enjoying it immensly. It's very hard to give a brief breakdown of this story, as it's really very much about the struggle of the new evolving in the land of the determinedly staid. It's also the struggle of youth growing, and becoming, and following different paths in lives that, in many ways, end up parelleling each other. The cast of background characters that help to shape their lives, intrude upon their evolution, and, at times, who are used by the main characters for reasons of their own, are interesting, colorful, and very much three dimensional. You feel their struggle, too, as they come to terms with their lives and what their presence means to either Roark or Keating, or, at times, both.
So far, Keating's life has pretty much gone down the path he wanted. He's planned it all, and he's done what he needs to acheive the stature, recognition (which he believes is always due him), and money he deserves. He's very much self-centered, and I would actually despise him if I didn't feel sorry for him. I don't know if I'll continue to pity him, as he has a streak of ruthlessness that I'm afraid is going to make him unredeemable in the end.
Roark's life is...well, it is. He makes people uncomfortable because he's one of those people who honestly don't care what other people think. No, really, he doesn't give two cents for their opinions. In fact, he seems to be more sympathetic with the buildings he creates than with the people who inhabit them. While he isn't as "colorful" as Keating in his dealings with life, I can definitely relate to him much easier than I do with Keating. Roark knows what he wants to do, build modernistic homes, and he won't compromise, which drives people crazy. He knows he needs money to survive, but he would rather live in a cardboard box than give up his ideals.
So far, I have to say I'm pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable this classic is. I'm definitely looking forward to curling up with this book tonight and reading another chapter...or three...or heck, four.
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