boxcar's reviews
230 reviews

Wonderful homage to the epic of la mancha. Just fantastic. I think it took a bit for me to get into it: the dual narratives (not really dual, more story within a story, maybe story outside a story…) were a lot at first. Not only did they come together magnificently, they merged and mingled and nudged each other until I couldn’t imagine the story without either. Magical, poignant, emotional and funny. Sometimes modern novels irk me, if only for being too on-the-nose. Who wants to read about the world as it is, the social media landscape, the status quo? I mean, I do, but it’s gotta be good. This is such a case. 

Honestly, there’s no way to put this story into words, to summarize. It wears its inspiration on its sleeve, but it is unlike anything else. 

Quick read, really enjoyed. What an interesting premise!! The nature of the world is revealed slowly and kept me grasping for more. The idea of endless halls of statues is intriguing, liminal. There being an ocean in the halls is almost impossible to imagine. I don’t feel like I grasped the setting, and I think that’s good. Nobody who hasn’t been there can grasp it. The police angle and Raphael were a little awkward, woohoo cop saves the day! A weirdly standard, played out resolution to an otherwise innovative, unique and uncanny narrative.

Utterly unique. I can’t say I’m in love with the way Saunders wrote this, with the quotations, faux quotations, play-style character lines. However, by the grace of god, it worked. I think that’s a feat.

Depth of emotion, an interesting premise. The buddhist state between life and death, lingering. The historical moment is perfect for this, the civil war raging, bodies of young men beginning to pile uncontrollably, and Lincoln must confront what every father is in the wake of the war, the death of a son. 

Such an interesting examination of death and loss. The voices of the dead are not inert in this book, and that rings true, I think.

Raw, emotional, unrestrained. A book that I feel I can’t claim to have grasped everything it seems to offer.

Wonderful book, again written with a flow and cadence that seems to be plucked from the innermost parts of my jumbled mind. I can see how people get turned off by his writing: the twists and inconsistencies; statements butting into statements unfinished; punctuation conventions cast aside. Like I said, I get being put off, but personally, the way Rushdie applies his chaos is so perfectly coherent. I’m not sure how to describe it.

If I had read the Quran, or if I were more versed in the verses and Islamic beliefs, this may be a five star. I am woefully ignorant in that department. So, it comes as no surprise that much of the story went over my head. I had a similar feeling reading Master and Margarita: desperately wanting to love the story and what it represents, but unable to follow along at many points. The Satanic Verses was better in that the plot was coherent regardless, and Rushdie is great at sensing when to explain something or add context. Still, context and explanations and all, I am too ignorant of Islam and the scriptures to claim to have gotten all this book has to offer.

What I did get: 

an amazing look into the immigrant experience in London, the pressure to disavow your culture and heritage in favor of a facade of British drudgery. 

The whimsical, fantastical. Angels, devils, a butterfly eating magic girl, twisting corridors of a brothel, London morphing and twisting into impossible forms, Police witchcraft, flying men.

The relationships between the characters were so full. Chamcha and his father’s fraught relationship bookends the narrative, showing genuine growth and a warmth I didn’t expect whatsoever. The love, carnal passion that consumes characters. Much of the book is concerned with love, that slippery thing, the forms it takes, the illusions that appear to be love. Men and women wind together and apart but inextricably remain connected.

Maybe in the future I will be more knowledgeable, more aware of the beliefs of mankind. I would like to revisit this.

Also, I think a fatwa was a lil overboard. But the prophet certainly isn’t painted in the greatest light. Feel like if one’s god is bereaved by this, it shouldn’t be up to man to avenge it. Let god lay down the law, y’know?

Alice in Wonderland but (even) more fun. So imaginative, so funny, so easy to read and just a journey. 

Salman Rushdie writes how I think. Seriously, it felt so natural to read. All over the place yet coherent, parentheses, run-ons, fragments, fluctuating punctuation, all done with a tactful hand, none clumsy or kitschy. There are so many themes in here, (duh it's a book!) and I feel that I could read this over and over and never fail to wrest something new from its pages. The very concept of a nation is explored through the life of a single child, boy, man. That single man is not singular, but a part of many singular men and women that comprise a nation, a group, an idea. Saleem is a man with endless fathers, mothers, siblings--he himself is many different people through his lives. Mundane events shake the very nature of his existence; immense events rattle in the background. A family saga where the very family is undefinable. Saleem's voice, writing this tale and referencing the current moment in the middle of his past somehow just works. I, who know little about the history of India, Pakistan or Bangladesh did not feel lost. At no point does Rushdie lecture or explain events in depth, yet I came away feeling I understood the state of Rushdie's imagined country. Whether or not that accurately reflects reality is not for me to say. The magical elements are so very unique and seamlessly weave into a narrative about history. So very good. 

Fun read. Calvino-esque, and I don't say that just because of the tree-dwelling similarity to the Baron in the Trees. A fairy tale, ridiculous yet reflective of the workings of society. The dream to disengage from the mechanisms of capitalism, once realized, entangles one further within its reach. The rigid familial structure and patriarchy is obviously absurd against the lunacy of the situation. At once a silly story that can't be taken seriously and a critique of our priorities. 

Fun

At first I was not so sure about the various points of view. It came together. A compassionate dive into the bond between mother and daughter, the differences between American raised daughter and Chinese born mother. Navigating cultural differences, silence and misunderstandings, depths of despair and joy. The duty of a child to carry on the memory and life of a parent. Emotional, expansive, amazing. 

Almost gave up on this one. It starts painstakingly slow. By the end I was so engrossed in the family, the relationships and strife that I felt like i understood each of them, empathized with them. Reminds me of Brothers Karamazov, three siblings with different personalities that bicker and love and carry the narrative through their deep characterizations and relationships. So very relatable was the pent up misgivings from the distant past, the inability to let go a perceived slight, the hesitation to apologize, the different perspectives and understanding that comes with age. I wish I could give it a better rating, and I suppose I could. But the start really was a drag, no two ways about it.