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EmersonRose (320 KP) rated The Buried Giant in Books
Nov 20, 2019
The winner of the 2017 Nobel Prize for Literature, Kazuo Ishiguro was born in 1954 in Nagasaki Japan, but he and his family moved in England in 1960. These two places and cultures have profoundly affected Ishiguro’s writing throughout his career. His first book, A Pale View of Hills, was published in 1982 and won the Winifred Holtby Memorial Prize, and he has since written seven novels and numerous short stories. His most recent book was The Buried Giant in 2015.
It is hard to pinpoint a genre to which Kazuo Ishiguro sticks to as he writes in fantasy, science-fiction, and historical. It can be said that all of his novels have the feeling of being set in the past even when the time period is not explicitly described, but the core theme that connects all of his writing together is memory. In each of his stories, Ishiguro examines how people use memory, how memory affects people, and who we are with or without memory.
Ishiguro explores many different ways in which memory affects people throughout his books ranging from memory loss to dream like memory distortion. In his books Never Let Me Go and The Remains of the Day the stories are told by narrators looking back at crucial moments in their lives. In letting us know that they are remembering their own pasts they admit that they are saying their perspective and their memory might be lacking. In this way letting the reader know that they are unreliable narrators. In The Remains of the Day the narrator, the butler Mr. Stevens decides to go on a journey to visit an old friend and along the way shows his unreliability in several ways. First in acknowledging how memory can change and fade over time.
“It occurs to me that elsewhere in attempting to gather such recollections, I may well have asserted that this memory derived from the minute immediately after Miss Kenton receiving news of her aunt’s death….But now, having thought further, I believed I may have been a little confused about this matter; that in fact, this fragment of memory derives from events that took place on an evening at least a few months after the death of Miss Kenton’s aunt” (212).
In this way, Steven’s is acknowledging human error which both shows his unreliability but gives a level of trust in the acknowledgment that he is doing his best to be truthful. This, however, is challenged because Steven’s informs us that he lies, at the very least through omission, to other characters. A clear case of this is when he allows himself to be considered a gentleman rather than a butler on several occasions throughout his journey. This becomes complex because he is allowing the reader in on the truth, but the very fact of admitting that he can lie further reveals his unreliability.
In Ishiguro’s most recent book, The Buried Giant, he looks at memory in a way that is similar to these previous stories but takes a new approach. His central two characters in this book, Axle, and Beatrice are an elderly couple setting out on a journey with almost no memory of who they are. Throughout the story, they remember or think they remember pieces of their pasts and in the process making them question who they really are. This uncertainty in themselves creates interesting questions of whether or not they want to remember their lives if they are happier not knowing, and if they can continue to live their lives the way they are with their new/old information?
“Yet are you so certain, good mistress, you wish to be free of this mist? Is it not better some things remain hidden from our minds?”
“It may be for some, father, but not for us. Axl and I wish to have again the happy moments we shared together. To be robbed of them is as if a thief came in the night and took what’s most precious from us.”
“Yet the mist covers all memories, the bad as well as the good. Isn’t that so, mistress?”
“We’ll have the bad ones come back too, even if they make us weep or shake with anger. For isn’t it the life we’ve shared?” (172).
In some of Ishiguro’s other work, he chooses to explore memory through the lens of a dreamlike state or surreal views, such as his short story A Village After Dark and the novel The Unconsoled. In these stories, the narrator enters into a new place and finds that they have slowly emerging memories connected to the places and people they meet. The Unconsoled creates a strange dynamic where the lead character Mr. Ryder has never been to this town before but finds himself confronted by childhood acquaintances as well as meeting a woman and child who treat him like husband and father and memories that support this begin to come back to him. In an interview Ishiguro did on the book in 1995, he summarizes the story as “an anxiety dream” as Mr. Ryder continually finds himself confronted with the expectation of him without being told anything in advance. At the beginning of the story, Mr. Ryder arrives at his hotel knowing that he will be playing at a concert in few days and is told he has a busy schedule up till then. At this point in the story, the anxiety dream state sets in Mr. Ryder continuously finds himself late to engagements, leaving people behind by accident and being dragged around town. As the story progresses, Mr. Ryder begins to have memories of a past associated with some of the people he has met, despite being introduced as completely new to the town. Some of these can be explained by the fact that as a reader we are dropped into a story after it has started but the memories of these instances only come back to Ryder after he has been told things have happened. This means that throughout the story it impossible to know whether or not the narrator has forgotten and is remembering or if the town is merely a dream limbo and nothing he is being told is real, to begin with.
Whether taking the more fantastical approach or the those that fall closer to realism, Ishiguro’s play with memory remains relatable to the readers. Each journey Ishiguro writes is designed to tackle something different about memory. The stories ask us questions about what memory and how much it affects who we are and our ability to live in our world. From whether or not we can know who we are without memory to how trustworthy our memories actually are. These questions, however fantastically asked, offer something to the reader that they can relate to. For memory is almost a fanatical force on its own that we all share and try to understand. It can play with us when we take it for granted and offer vulnerability and connection when shared with others. Ishiguro delves into these ideas in each of his works, ever exploring its uncertainty and power.
It is hard to pinpoint a genre to which Kazuo Ishiguro sticks to as he writes in fantasy, science-fiction, and historical. It can be said that all of his novels have the feeling of being set in the past even when the time period is not explicitly described, but the core theme that connects all of his writing together is memory. In each of his stories, Ishiguro examines how people use memory, how memory affects people, and who we are with or without memory.
Ishiguro explores many different ways in which memory affects people throughout his books ranging from memory loss to dream like memory distortion. In his books Never Let Me Go and The Remains of the Day the stories are told by narrators looking back at crucial moments in their lives. In letting us know that they are remembering their own pasts they admit that they are saying their perspective and their memory might be lacking. In this way letting the reader know that they are unreliable narrators. In The Remains of the Day the narrator, the butler Mr. Stevens decides to go on a journey to visit an old friend and along the way shows his unreliability in several ways. First in acknowledging how memory can change and fade over time.
“It occurs to me that elsewhere in attempting to gather such recollections, I may well have asserted that this memory derived from the minute immediately after Miss Kenton receiving news of her aunt’s death….But now, having thought further, I believed I may have been a little confused about this matter; that in fact, this fragment of memory derives from events that took place on an evening at least a few months after the death of Miss Kenton’s aunt” (212).
In this way, Steven’s is acknowledging human error which both shows his unreliability but gives a level of trust in the acknowledgment that he is doing his best to be truthful. This, however, is challenged because Steven’s informs us that he lies, at the very least through omission, to other characters. A clear case of this is when he allows himself to be considered a gentleman rather than a butler on several occasions throughout his journey. This becomes complex because he is allowing the reader in on the truth, but the very fact of admitting that he can lie further reveals his unreliability.
In Ishiguro’s most recent book, The Buried Giant, he looks at memory in a way that is similar to these previous stories but takes a new approach. His central two characters in this book, Axle, and Beatrice are an elderly couple setting out on a journey with almost no memory of who they are. Throughout the story, they remember or think they remember pieces of their pasts and in the process making them question who they really are. This uncertainty in themselves creates interesting questions of whether or not they want to remember their lives if they are happier not knowing, and if they can continue to live their lives the way they are with their new/old information?
“Yet are you so certain, good mistress, you wish to be free of this mist? Is it not better some things remain hidden from our minds?”
“It may be for some, father, but not for us. Axl and I wish to have again the happy moments we shared together. To be robbed of them is as if a thief came in the night and took what’s most precious from us.”
“Yet the mist covers all memories, the bad as well as the good. Isn’t that so, mistress?”
“We’ll have the bad ones come back too, even if they make us weep or shake with anger. For isn’t it the life we’ve shared?” (172).
In some of Ishiguro’s other work, he chooses to explore memory through the lens of a dreamlike state or surreal views, such as his short story A Village After Dark and the novel The Unconsoled. In these stories, the narrator enters into a new place and finds that they have slowly emerging memories connected to the places and people they meet. The Unconsoled creates a strange dynamic where the lead character Mr. Ryder has never been to this town before but finds himself confronted by childhood acquaintances as well as meeting a woman and child who treat him like husband and father and memories that support this begin to come back to him. In an interview Ishiguro did on the book in 1995, he summarizes the story as “an anxiety dream” as Mr. Ryder continually finds himself confronted with the expectation of him without being told anything in advance. At the beginning of the story, Mr. Ryder arrives at his hotel knowing that he will be playing at a concert in few days and is told he has a busy schedule up till then. At this point in the story, the anxiety dream state sets in Mr. Ryder continuously finds himself late to engagements, leaving people behind by accident and being dragged around town. As the story progresses, Mr. Ryder begins to have memories of a past associated with some of the people he has met, despite being introduced as completely new to the town. Some of these can be explained by the fact that as a reader we are dropped into a story after it has started but the memories of these instances only come back to Ryder after he has been told things have happened. This means that throughout the story it impossible to know whether or not the narrator has forgotten and is remembering or if the town is merely a dream limbo and nothing he is being told is real, to begin with.
Whether taking the more fantastical approach or the those that fall closer to realism, Ishiguro’s play with memory remains relatable to the readers. Each journey Ishiguro writes is designed to tackle something different about memory. The stories ask us questions about what memory and how much it affects who we are and our ability to live in our world. From whether or not we can know who we are without memory to how trustworthy our memories actually are. These questions, however fantastically asked, offer something to the reader that they can relate to. For memory is almost a fanatical force on its own that we all share and try to understand. It can play with us when we take it for granted and offer vulnerability and connection when shared with others. Ishiguro delves into these ideas in each of his works, ever exploring its uncertainty and power.
Kristy H (1252 KP) rated What You Want To See (Roxane Weary #2) in Books
May 10, 2018
The Roxane Weary mystery series is straight-up great!
Roxane Weary is hired by Arthur Ungless, owner of a print shop, to track his fiance, Marin, whom he believes is cheating on him. But her case devolves quickly, between a bounced check and Tom (Roxane's dad's former partner) and a rude cop named Sanko showing up on Roxane's doorstep with the news that Marin is dead. Not only that, they make it pretty clear that they want Roxane to stay out of it. But this is "pathologically nosy" Roxane we are talking about. Stay out of it she cannot. So Roxane continues to work Arthur's case--as the husband, he's the main suspect after all. Roxane is determined he's innocent: a perspective not shared by Tom and Sanko. As she digs deeper into Marin's life, she discovers that she led quite the double life, and Roxane finds herself lost in a world of antiques dealing, wealthy families, and a lot of danger.
I loved this book. I love the first person aspect. The Roxane Weary series is straight-up great mystery writing. No unreliable narrator, no chapters that alternate POV or time periods, no gimmicks--just an excellent protagonist and a strong plot. It makes you long for mysteries of old (think Kinsey Millhone). The ways I love Roxane cannot truly be enumerated--she's a female lead in a mystery series, for one. She's smart, witty, and sarcastic. She's bisexual, but this characteristic is just who she is, not her main defining element or the entire defining point of the novel. As a bisexual female, I cannot stress how amazing this is in literature. To have bisexual representation (and have that representation be intelligent, funny, and not portrayed as evil and deviant), well, it's wonderful. She has relationships of all kinds and works on figuring out herself, just like any other person. Gasp! Imagine that. I couldn't love Roxane more (or Kristen Lepionka for creating this character). Also, Roxane calls waffles "golden beauty" and well, what more do you need in your PI? She's the Leslie Knope of private investigators.
I was worried that the second Roxane Weary novel wouldn't stand up to the first, but I was anxious for no reason. The second book is just as wonderful and intricately crafted as the first, and we get to see Roxane both struggling and growing professionally and personally. The case is a great one--it had me frantically reading and totally shocked me at the end, which I love. So rarely can a detective novel keep me guessing to the anymore. Marin Strasser is quite the character, and her web of lies pulls in a whole host of supporting characters.
We also see Roxane navigating new territory with Tom, her former lover (and, as mentioned, her dad's ex-partner), and get appearances again from the appealing Weary brothers and Roxane's mom. Roxane is still working on her relationships--not just romantic ones, but life ones, and you'll be touched as she figures out trying to be a "surrogate aunt" to Shelby, who appeared in book one. Watching her let her guard down at times is enjoyable.
The case is still mainly the star, though, and it won't disappoint. It's complicated and intriguing and everything comes together in ways that will make you gasp and keep you riveted. I was definitely shocked several times while reading. Not to mention I love it when an author can write a character that I truly hate--you know they've done a good job when you can feel that anger viscerally through the pages!
Overall, I have nothing bad to say about this book. Maybe that it's over, and I have to wait now for a (hopeful!!) book three? I love Roxane. I feel kinship toward her for sure, this sarcastic, bisexual PI whose still navigating the world around her. The mystery in this book won't disappoint, nor will the characters. If you haven't read the first Roxane Weary novel, I do recommend reading it first (mostly because it's also so good), but this will stand on its own. Highly recommend!!
I received a copy of this novel from the publisher and Netgalley in return for an unbiased review. More at http://justacatandabookatherside.blogspot.com/.
I loved this book. I love the first person aspect. The Roxane Weary series is straight-up great mystery writing. No unreliable narrator, no chapters that alternate POV or time periods, no gimmicks--just an excellent protagonist and a strong plot. It makes you long for mysteries of old (think Kinsey Millhone). The ways I love Roxane cannot truly be enumerated--she's a female lead in a mystery series, for one. She's smart, witty, and sarcastic. She's bisexual, but this characteristic is just who she is, not her main defining element or the entire defining point of the novel. As a bisexual female, I cannot stress how amazing this is in literature. To have bisexual representation (and have that representation be intelligent, funny, and not portrayed as evil and deviant), well, it's wonderful. She has relationships of all kinds and works on figuring out herself, just like any other person. Gasp! Imagine that. I couldn't love Roxane more (or Kristen Lepionka for creating this character). Also, Roxane calls waffles "golden beauty" and well, what more do you need in your PI? She's the Leslie Knope of private investigators.
I was worried that the second Roxane Weary novel wouldn't stand up to the first, but I was anxious for no reason. The second book is just as wonderful and intricately crafted as the first, and we get to see Roxane both struggling and growing professionally and personally. The case is a great one--it had me frantically reading and totally shocked me at the end, which I love. So rarely can a detective novel keep me guessing to the anymore. Marin Strasser is quite the character, and her web of lies pulls in a whole host of supporting characters.
We also see Roxane navigating new territory with Tom, her former lover (and, as mentioned, her dad's ex-partner), and get appearances again from the appealing Weary brothers and Roxane's mom. Roxane is still working on her relationships--not just romantic ones, but life ones, and you'll be touched as she figures out trying to be a "surrogate aunt" to Shelby, who appeared in book one. Watching her let her guard down at times is enjoyable.
The case is still mainly the star, though, and it won't disappoint. It's complicated and intriguing and everything comes together in ways that will make you gasp and keep you riveted. I was definitely shocked several times while reading. Not to mention I love it when an author can write a character that I truly hate--you know they've done a good job when you can feel that anger viscerally through the pages!
Overall, I have nothing bad to say about this book. Maybe that it's over, and I have to wait now for a (hopeful!!) book three? I love Roxane. I feel kinship toward her for sure, this sarcastic, bisexual PI whose still navigating the world around her. The mystery in this book won't disappoint, nor will the characters. If you haven't read the first Roxane Weary novel, I do recommend reading it first (mostly because it's also so good), but this will stand on its own. Highly recommend!!
I received a copy of this novel from the publisher and Netgalley in return for an unbiased review. More at http://justacatandabookatherside.blogspot.com/.
Eilidh G Clark (177 KP) rated The Panopticon in Books
May 13, 2017
This is my all time favouurite book.
Jenny Fagan stated in an interview in 2013 that prior to writing the novel The Panopticon (2012) she had one question, ‘is it possible to achieve autonomy?’ Fagan explores this question throughout her novel with the character of Anais Hendrix. I would also suggest that the author is metaphorically exploring whether Scotland can achieve autonomy as an independent nation. Autonomy, in relation to the individual, is self-governance- or being able to decide for oneself
At the beginning of the novel, the fifteen-year old Anais is governed by the state. In contemporary British society, a child under the age of sixteen, regardless of her social situation is, by law, governed by an adult/s. Anais has lived her life in the care system with the exception of a short period in which she lived with an adopted mother. It is for this reason that she is able to see society from outside of the family unit. By creating the motherless child, Fagan presents Anais as the ‘other’ from both a societal perspective- ‘communities dinnae like no-ones,’ and from the viewpoint of the protagonist, ‘What they really want is me dead,’ (TP, p.23). Without a family, and through a lack of legitimate information regarding her birth mother, Anais believes that she was created in a lab:
I’M AN experiment. I always have been, It’s a given, a liberty, a fact. They watch me. Not just in school or social-work reviews, courts or police cells – they watch everywhere. […] They’re there when I stare too long or too clearly, without flinching. […] They watch me, I know it, and I can’t find anywhere any more – where they can’t see, (TP, Prologue).
Note that in the above quotation, the protagonist describes her assumed identity as a ‘liberty’. Liberty, in this case, means freedom from the oppressive nature of the family. Although Anais desires the nurturing aspect of the family, ‘I just want my mum,’ (Tp, p.269), her lack of family exposes her to the nature of contemporary society as a constant monitoring of civilians. In the above quotation, the repetition of ‘they’ suggests that she feels outside of the norm. The most important aspect of the above quote however, is that it is told from the protagonist’s thoughts. While Fagan gives Anais a certain amount of autonomy through both the first-person narrator, and the vernacular, the reliability of the narrator is increased by presenting the characters inner thoughts. While this limited autonomy is important, full autonomy is restricted by age. Bever suggests that ‘the capacity for individuals to become autonomous seems radically dependent on the contingent historical circumstances and societies into which they are born. Anais’ awareness of herself as the ‘other’ allows her an insight into the oppressive role of society, which is normally hindered in childhood due to the role of the family and it’s teaching of norms and values.
The sense of otherness can also be looked at in regard to Scotland and its role within the UK. The UK is a family of four countries under one state. Regardless of Scotland’s devolution, it has still to comply with a large amount of UK policies. Scotland has different values and goals to that of the UK making it ‘other’. With a different cultural identity to its neighbours, many Scottish citizens are seeking independence to protect its dwindling identity, whilst for others, independence is political.
Anais’ awareness of social control causes her a feeling of shrinking. This, according to her social workers is an identity problem:
Fifty odd moves, three different names, born in a nuthouse to a nobody that was never seen again. Identity problem? I dinnae have an identity problem – I dinnae have an identity, (TP, p.99).
Anais’ reaction in the above statement describes her lack of knowledge of her ancestry. I would argue that her identity is forced upon her from the fifty-one times that she has moved home, the care system, the solitary time in which she was adopted, the relationships she has had - both female and male, her friends but more importantly, from the unreliable account of her birth from the monk in the metal institution. The lack of family does not alter the fact that she is alive, and that all the fragments of her past make up an identity. For Anais, ‘Families are overrated […] ‘I umnay fooled. Not by families,’(TP, p.63-64). Like Anais, Scotland’s identity is ambiguous. Independence will allow Scotland political autonomy, however, within a global economy, Scotland still has limited autonomy. As culturally ‘other’ however, Scotland has already achieved autonomy with or without a state through its language, its people and its traditions.
Fagan demonstrates the difficulty of total autonomy though Anais and the birthday game, a game in which she creates her own identity. When she turns sixteen years of age, Anais is free from societal care and flees from her imprisonment, ‘I am Frances Jones from Paris. I am not a face on a missing-person poster, I am not a number or a statistic in a file. I have no-one watching me, […] I−begin today,’ (TP, p.323-324). ‘I’ suggests singularity and is still opposite to ‘them’ or ‘we’. Autonomy is therefore, ambiguous; Anais is still living within the same system under a false identity, she is therefore, segregated from everyone that she knows. Moreover, by changing Anais’ name to a name that ‘means freedom.’ (TP, p.323), Fagan is pointing out the difference between freedom and autonomy. Freedom is an emotive word, and there are two concepts of freedom – freedom from, which in Anais’ situation means freedom from the system of observation. Freedom to, however, is more problematic as Anais can never be free from the neoliberal system of rules and law – as Scotland would see in the case of independence. I would therefore conclude that Anais/Scotland has always has limited autonomy through cultural identity and history. I believe autonomy can only reside within the system through cultural and individual imagination and not out with it.
What does this mean for Scotland? If Scotland is part of the global community, can it become an autonomous nation? Is there a solution or should Anais/Scotland accept that cultural autonomy is imagined or self-contained. Can a collective identity and imagination change the political system? Finally, can culture survive without independence?
Bibliography
Crupp, Tyler, ‘Autonomy and Contemporary Political Theory’, in Encyclopaedia of Political Theory, ed. Mark Bevor (London: Sage Publications, 2010)
Fagan, Jenni, The Panopticon (London: Windmill Books, 2013), p.6.
Windmill Books. (2013). Granta Best Young British Novelist Jenni Fagan, . accessed 22 November 2015. Published on Apr 16, 2013
At the beginning of the novel, the fifteen-year old Anais is governed by the state. In contemporary British society, a child under the age of sixteen, regardless of her social situation is, by law, governed by an adult/s. Anais has lived her life in the care system with the exception of a short period in which she lived with an adopted mother. It is for this reason that she is able to see society from outside of the family unit. By creating the motherless child, Fagan presents Anais as the ‘other’ from both a societal perspective- ‘communities dinnae like no-ones,’ and from the viewpoint of the protagonist, ‘What they really want is me dead,’ (TP, p.23). Without a family, and through a lack of legitimate information regarding her birth mother, Anais believes that she was created in a lab:
I’M AN experiment. I always have been, It’s a given, a liberty, a fact. They watch me. Not just in school or social-work reviews, courts or police cells – they watch everywhere. […] They’re there when I stare too long or too clearly, without flinching. […] They watch me, I know it, and I can’t find anywhere any more – where they can’t see, (TP, Prologue).
Note that in the above quotation, the protagonist describes her assumed identity as a ‘liberty’. Liberty, in this case, means freedom from the oppressive nature of the family. Although Anais desires the nurturing aspect of the family, ‘I just want my mum,’ (Tp, p.269), her lack of family exposes her to the nature of contemporary society as a constant monitoring of civilians. In the above quotation, the repetition of ‘they’ suggests that she feels outside of the norm. The most important aspect of the above quote however, is that it is told from the protagonist’s thoughts. While Fagan gives Anais a certain amount of autonomy through both the first-person narrator, and the vernacular, the reliability of the narrator is increased by presenting the characters inner thoughts. While this limited autonomy is important, full autonomy is restricted by age. Bever suggests that ‘the capacity for individuals to become autonomous seems radically dependent on the contingent historical circumstances and societies into which they are born. Anais’ awareness of herself as the ‘other’ allows her an insight into the oppressive role of society, which is normally hindered in childhood due to the role of the family and it’s teaching of norms and values.
The sense of otherness can also be looked at in regard to Scotland and its role within the UK. The UK is a family of four countries under one state. Regardless of Scotland’s devolution, it has still to comply with a large amount of UK policies. Scotland has different values and goals to that of the UK making it ‘other’. With a different cultural identity to its neighbours, many Scottish citizens are seeking independence to protect its dwindling identity, whilst for others, independence is political.
Anais’ awareness of social control causes her a feeling of shrinking. This, according to her social workers is an identity problem:
Fifty odd moves, three different names, born in a nuthouse to a nobody that was never seen again. Identity problem? I dinnae have an identity problem – I dinnae have an identity, (TP, p.99).
Anais’ reaction in the above statement describes her lack of knowledge of her ancestry. I would argue that her identity is forced upon her from the fifty-one times that she has moved home, the care system, the solitary time in which she was adopted, the relationships she has had - both female and male, her friends but more importantly, from the unreliable account of her birth from the monk in the metal institution. The lack of family does not alter the fact that she is alive, and that all the fragments of her past make up an identity. For Anais, ‘Families are overrated […] ‘I umnay fooled. Not by families,’(TP, p.63-64). Like Anais, Scotland’s identity is ambiguous. Independence will allow Scotland political autonomy, however, within a global economy, Scotland still has limited autonomy. As culturally ‘other’ however, Scotland has already achieved autonomy with or without a state through its language, its people and its traditions.
Fagan demonstrates the difficulty of total autonomy though Anais and the birthday game, a game in which she creates her own identity. When she turns sixteen years of age, Anais is free from societal care and flees from her imprisonment, ‘I am Frances Jones from Paris. I am not a face on a missing-person poster, I am not a number or a statistic in a file. I have no-one watching me, […] I−begin today,’ (TP, p.323-324). ‘I’ suggests singularity and is still opposite to ‘them’ or ‘we’. Autonomy is therefore, ambiguous; Anais is still living within the same system under a false identity, she is therefore, segregated from everyone that she knows. Moreover, by changing Anais’ name to a name that ‘means freedom.’ (TP, p.323), Fagan is pointing out the difference between freedom and autonomy. Freedom is an emotive word, and there are two concepts of freedom – freedom from, which in Anais’ situation means freedom from the system of observation. Freedom to, however, is more problematic as Anais can never be free from the neoliberal system of rules and law – as Scotland would see in the case of independence. I would therefore conclude that Anais/Scotland has always has limited autonomy through cultural identity and history. I believe autonomy can only reside within the system through cultural and individual imagination and not out with it.
What does this mean for Scotland? If Scotland is part of the global community, can it become an autonomous nation? Is there a solution or should Anais/Scotland accept that cultural autonomy is imagined or self-contained. Can a collective identity and imagination change the political system? Finally, can culture survive without independence?
Bibliography
Crupp, Tyler, ‘Autonomy and Contemporary Political Theory’, in Encyclopaedia of Political Theory, ed. Mark Bevor (London: Sage Publications, 2010)
Fagan, Jenni, The Panopticon (London: Windmill Books, 2013), p.6.
Windmill Books. (2013). Granta Best Young British Novelist Jenni Fagan, . accessed 22 November 2015. Published on Apr 16, 2013
Smashbomb (4687 KP) created a post in Smashbomb AMA
Jul 12, 2019
A Bibliophagist (113 KP) rated Wuthering Heights in Books
Feb 12, 2020
Stands up (2 more)
Enthralling
Unique
Dislikable characters (1 more)
Difficult accents without translations
I will do my best to review this, however, I didn't heed the intro, this tour de force really does leave you as quickly as it comes, and reading another book before reviewing this one was a mistake.
In reading reviews prior to reading this book, I learned three major things; 1, people either love or hate this book, 2. I had no idea what I was actually in for, and 3. this may have not been the romantic pick for February I was expecting it to be.
So yes, PSA for anyone out there considering going into this thinking it's a romance. It is NOT. There are love stories in this, absolutely, powerful love stories that made me read quotes to my boyfriend with snarky statements like "if you don't say this at my funeral, did you ever really love me?". But it is NOT a romance. If anything this has more in common with "The Count of Monte Cristo" than it does "Pride and Prejudice". Honestly, the only thing it has in common with other, romantic books of this time, is the time period. But beware, no balls and high society and Mr. Darcy's await you in this novel. I feel a number of the reviews decrying the book, calling the characters "monstrous" both were the orchestrators of their own disappointment by assuming it to be like an Austin, and really need to look in the mirror and reflect on if they are really as perfect as they think they are. Especially if they were in the circumstances that surround this tale.
I find that Heathcliff himself addresses this mistake many readers had going into this book.
"picturing in me a hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my chivalrous devotion. I can hardly regard her in the light of a rational creature, so obstinately has she persisted in forming a fabulous notion of my character and actin gon false impressions she cherished."
SO many readers went into this expecting Heathcliff to be some misunderstood brute or one harsh but salvaged by the purity of his love of Catherine. But this isn't the case.
Wuthering Heights tells the story of (I guess technically 3) but really 2 generations of families. Living in the Yorkshire Moors, isolated from high society. We have the Liptons, primmer and properer and more in touch with society, and the Earnshaws which become a little rough around the edges in their isolation and loss. Papa Earnshaw has two children, Catherine and Hindley, and adopts a small boy of unknown heritage but is implied to be Romani or of mixed race (sorry Tom Hardy and nearly every portrayal of Heathcliff), that he names, simply, Heathcliff. He loves Heathcliff, and dotes on him greatly, much to the chagrin of Hindly who grows to resent Heathcliff, treating him terribly until Hindly leaves for school. Catherine and Heathcliff become great playmates, their care is given primarily to a maid scarcely older than them, as Papa Earnshaw is a single daddy. They are wild things, as children I would assume would be, in such isolation as the Yorkshire Moors in a time before the creature comforts and entertainment we have. They grow very close, obsessively close. Upon Papa Earnshaw's death, Hindley returns (at around the age of 23) to run the household, and take over the care of these two youngsters, one of which, he hates. So, Cinderella-style, Heathcliff gets treated worse and worse and treated like a servant rather than the adoptive child that Papa Earnshaw loved so dearly. Suddenly Heathcliff is nothing, treated terribly, and has the most important thing in his life banned from him, Catherine. Meanwhile, the Liptons also have two children, not wild, but spoilt in their own ways, Edgar and Isabella, close in age to Heathcliff and Catherine. When H and C run off on a camping adventure and find themselves at the Lipton's house, Catherine is injured and stays with the Liptons, in their higher society for 5 weeks. Leaving Heathcliff to the abuse of her brother and further isolation. She returns much more a lady and with her connection to Heathcliff slightly burned. In an attempt to protect Heathcliff, and because Heathcliff is now no more than a servant and not an option to marry, Catherine intends to marry Edgar. Causing our resident bad boy to run off for a number of years. Only to return a proper, but still broody gentleman, and confuse Catherine's affection much to the displeasure of Edgar.
Now, this is where a number of shows and movies end things. With a focus on Catherine and Heathcliff's whirlwind romance, obsession. It has some of the most to the point and beautiful lines regarding love, not all flowery, not "I love you most ardently" but rather cries of "I am Heathcliff" by Catherine. Absolutely heart-rending, even though I didn't like Catherine. But this is not where the book ends. The book goes on to follow Heathcliff's obsession with revenge, with his treatment as a child, his rage against Hindley, and against losing Catherine to Edgar. He spends years slowly ruining everyone's lives. Not that you could really ruin Hindley's life, he was a mean drunk. But he even goes as far as to meddle with the next generation, Hindley's son Hareton is raised terribly and is a bit of a wild thing (those his redemption and love story is quite beautiful), Catherine's daughter Cathy and Heathcliff's son Lipton are whisked up into a big scheme by Heathcliff to take everything. Heathcliff even marry's out of pure spite.
Love does not redeem this man, he's barely an antihero without his youth story. He is angry and passionate and obsessed. Which for the first half of the book I didn't fault him for, but he does do some damnable things in the second half that you cannot argue away. No matter how romantic and beautiful and heartrending his lamentations can be. I was quite the character arc, quite the tale of revenge and loss. He was unredeemable because of his big sprawling schemes and harsh intentions. Catherine for me was unredeemable because she was an obnoxious, selfish thing, that honestly if Heathcliff had stopped thinking about two minutes would have found a better woman in every town. She whined and treated Edgar (who was honestly super sweet) so terribly, she had an anger problem and would work herself up until she was sick. But it is in this imperfection that I fell in love more with the book. Here is something unique and real, this is no Elizabeth Bennett. The isolation and hermetic lifestyle created very different characters than what we see in Jane Austin or even in Emily's sister's novel.
It's no wonder this book was harshly critiqued upon release, here is a woman, writing a revenge story, with love stories in it. That based on the biographical intro had some parallels to her own life. She lived an isolated existence, surrounded by the death of the majority of her family young. She was in her late 20s when she wrote this and died a year after publication. She made humans of monsters and monsters of humans and wrote something unexpected and truly unique.
It's hard for me to explain, amongst the harshness and bleakness of this novel, why I loved it so much. But I did, I loved every bit. The anger, the passion, the love, the scheming, I loved it all.
I also feel it's important to note that this whole story is told by a maid to a new tenant. So the narrator is unreliable. Were these people truly this way? Or is it clouded by this maid's opinions of them? How much is omitted due to the maid not being privy to an event?
Truly a fantastic read, that punched me in my chest and gut, grabbed and twisted my insides and refuses to let go. I would argue it's a cult classic rather than a classic. So please, shed all preconceived notions of what this book is, shake that Austin out of your mind and read this tale of obsession and revenge. It's well worth it.
In reading reviews prior to reading this book, I learned three major things; 1, people either love or hate this book, 2. I had no idea what I was actually in for, and 3. this may have not been the romantic pick for February I was expecting it to be.
So yes, PSA for anyone out there considering going into this thinking it's a romance. It is NOT. There are love stories in this, absolutely, powerful love stories that made me read quotes to my boyfriend with snarky statements like "if you don't say this at my funeral, did you ever really love me?". But it is NOT a romance. If anything this has more in common with "The Count of Monte Cristo" than it does "Pride and Prejudice". Honestly, the only thing it has in common with other, romantic books of this time, is the time period. But beware, no balls and high society and Mr. Darcy's await you in this novel. I feel a number of the reviews decrying the book, calling the characters "monstrous" both were the orchestrators of their own disappointment by assuming it to be like an Austin, and really need to look in the mirror and reflect on if they are really as perfect as they think they are. Especially if they were in the circumstances that surround this tale.
I find that Heathcliff himself addresses this mistake many readers had going into this book.
"picturing in me a hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my chivalrous devotion. I can hardly regard her in the light of a rational creature, so obstinately has she persisted in forming a fabulous notion of my character and actin gon false impressions she cherished."
SO many readers went into this expecting Heathcliff to be some misunderstood brute or one harsh but salvaged by the purity of his love of Catherine. But this isn't the case.
Wuthering Heights tells the story of (I guess technically 3) but really 2 generations of families. Living in the Yorkshire Moors, isolated from high society. We have the Liptons, primmer and properer and more in touch with society, and the Earnshaws which become a little rough around the edges in their isolation and loss. Papa Earnshaw has two children, Catherine and Hindley, and adopts a small boy of unknown heritage but is implied to be Romani or of mixed race (sorry Tom Hardy and nearly every portrayal of Heathcliff), that he names, simply, Heathcliff. He loves Heathcliff, and dotes on him greatly, much to the chagrin of Hindly who grows to resent Heathcliff, treating him terribly until Hindly leaves for school. Catherine and Heathcliff become great playmates, their care is given primarily to a maid scarcely older than them, as Papa Earnshaw is a single daddy. They are wild things, as children I would assume would be, in such isolation as the Yorkshire Moors in a time before the creature comforts and entertainment we have. They grow very close, obsessively close. Upon Papa Earnshaw's death, Hindley returns (at around the age of 23) to run the household, and take over the care of these two youngsters, one of which, he hates. So, Cinderella-style, Heathcliff gets treated worse and worse and treated like a servant rather than the adoptive child that Papa Earnshaw loved so dearly. Suddenly Heathcliff is nothing, treated terribly, and has the most important thing in his life banned from him, Catherine. Meanwhile, the Liptons also have two children, not wild, but spoilt in their own ways, Edgar and Isabella, close in age to Heathcliff and Catherine. When H and C run off on a camping adventure and find themselves at the Lipton's house, Catherine is injured and stays with the Liptons, in their higher society for 5 weeks. Leaving Heathcliff to the abuse of her brother and further isolation. She returns much more a lady and with her connection to Heathcliff slightly burned. In an attempt to protect Heathcliff, and because Heathcliff is now no more than a servant and not an option to marry, Catherine intends to marry Edgar. Causing our resident bad boy to run off for a number of years. Only to return a proper, but still broody gentleman, and confuse Catherine's affection much to the displeasure of Edgar.
Now, this is where a number of shows and movies end things. With a focus on Catherine and Heathcliff's whirlwind romance, obsession. It has some of the most to the point and beautiful lines regarding love, not all flowery, not "I love you most ardently" but rather cries of "I am Heathcliff" by Catherine. Absolutely heart-rending, even though I didn't like Catherine. But this is not where the book ends. The book goes on to follow Heathcliff's obsession with revenge, with his treatment as a child, his rage against Hindley, and against losing Catherine to Edgar. He spends years slowly ruining everyone's lives. Not that you could really ruin Hindley's life, he was a mean drunk. But he even goes as far as to meddle with the next generation, Hindley's son Hareton is raised terribly and is a bit of a wild thing (those his redemption and love story is quite beautiful), Catherine's daughter Cathy and Heathcliff's son Lipton are whisked up into a big scheme by Heathcliff to take everything. Heathcliff even marry's out of pure spite.
Love does not redeem this man, he's barely an antihero without his youth story. He is angry and passionate and obsessed. Which for the first half of the book I didn't fault him for, but he does do some damnable things in the second half that you cannot argue away. No matter how romantic and beautiful and heartrending his lamentations can be. I was quite the character arc, quite the tale of revenge and loss. He was unredeemable because of his big sprawling schemes and harsh intentions. Catherine for me was unredeemable because she was an obnoxious, selfish thing, that honestly if Heathcliff had stopped thinking about two minutes would have found a better woman in every town. She whined and treated Edgar (who was honestly super sweet) so terribly, she had an anger problem and would work herself up until she was sick. But it is in this imperfection that I fell in love more with the book. Here is something unique and real, this is no Elizabeth Bennett. The isolation and hermetic lifestyle created very different characters than what we see in Jane Austin or even in Emily's sister's novel.
It's no wonder this book was harshly critiqued upon release, here is a woman, writing a revenge story, with love stories in it. That based on the biographical intro had some parallels to her own life. She lived an isolated existence, surrounded by the death of the majority of her family young. She was in her late 20s when she wrote this and died a year after publication. She made humans of monsters and monsters of humans and wrote something unexpected and truly unique.
It's hard for me to explain, amongst the harshness and bleakness of this novel, why I loved it so much. But I did, I loved every bit. The anger, the passion, the love, the scheming, I loved it all.
I also feel it's important to note that this whole story is told by a maid to a new tenant. So the narrator is unreliable. Were these people truly this way? Or is it clouded by this maid's opinions of them? How much is omitted due to the maid not being privy to an event?
Truly a fantastic read, that punched me in my chest and gut, grabbed and twisted my insides and refuses to let go. I would argue it's a cult classic rather than a classic. So please, shed all preconceived notions of what this book is, shake that Austin out of your mind and read this tale of obsession and revenge. It's well worth it.