feedingbrett's reviews
187 reviews

The last few volumes have focused on plot mobility and development, but this volume would be the first where the series finally sinks its teeth into the material in such a way that opens the critical questions. Characters are placed under the political, existential, emotional and psychological spotlight, unleashing a depth that engaged me that is beyond the series' common sway to the high octane page-turners. Had this chapter been just another run-of-the-mill, I think whatever conclusion that Kaiu Shirai had for this series would never attain the conviction it deserves.

As it begins to take its final steps to its grand conclusion, the excitement begins to boil within me. Each revelation feels like a set of fireworks that leave me in a state of awe. I am saddened by the prospect of its finality, but it is a feeling that is also paired with a heavy sense of excitement. Nearly there!

This volume finally ascends itself to the series' climax, and never for a moment does it falter. I am on an emotional ride that has pushed me to the edge, just anticipating what lies at the bottom. I can only hope it would be as amazing as I think it is.

With its momentum in full swing, events unfold with lightning speed and tremendous force. Its political, emotional, and social brewings are close to being readily harvested. It finds a striking balance to entertain, while also provoking thought, unpacking its narrative and characters with great impact and confidence. I anticipate feeling a sense of sorrow when it's all over.

At the heels of its grand conclusion. Volume 19 has started to bring things together and prepare its readers for the weight that would surely come later. Questions still remain in the air, but now the solutions and outcomes are tangible, at the edges of our fingertips. This final volume can't come any sooner.

John Steinbeck has encapsulated the experience that was collectively endured during The Great Depression. He paints the heartbreaking, honest truth that permeated and defined the common American life during the 1930s.

Whilst following the enduring hardships of the Joad family, Steinbeck manages to let their experience take on an observant eye of the social-economic injustices that often plagued the American citizen. It manages to keep its feet firmly in the mud with its protagonists, while also speculating and highlighting the manipulative and disruptive strings that pull them to their misfortunes. Though undoubtedly what initially felt like too large of a cast at first glance, rapport and sentiment were gained upon every turned page, finding familiarity and investment in these characters where their small glimpses of triumphs and abundance of tragedies become felt as they passed.

If weak points were to be found, they exist in the chapters that Steinbeck placed between the Joad narrative. Some of these pauses allow for further enhancement to its already established themes and also sets forth a particular tone that would add to its succeeding chapter. However, some of them halted the momentum that he established far too aggressively, coming off as more of a distraction rather than a welcomed addition, perhaps, even making the entire novel feel far too long for its own good.

This American novel is a beautiful example that conveyed the other side of its country's life. If a story like The Great Gatsby demonstrated the limitless excess that thrived within its borders, The Grapes of Wrath is a contrast of that with its view on the sweeping cultural prejudice and systemic induced famishment that scattered within those same borders.

James M. Cain's debut, The Postman Always Rings Twice, is unafraid to entice and draw its readers in with its descriptive outlook on romantic passion and murderous resentment. The imagery that the author placed on display has highlighted the darker and sadistic shadings of human desire.

We are introduced to characters who intersect and connect by chance, both emotionally and psychologically at the right place and at the right time. Frank is a man without a stable past, a wanderer from place to place, while Cora is a disillusioned and burned-out wife who seeks escape from her husband and desires to take hold of something much more than what he has to offer. Such descriptions may seem rather cliched or sentimental, but Cain swerves around this through his chosen darker angle.

Pacing would be an aspect that I don't think many would have a problem with, it certainly wasn't for me, as each passing chapter were framed succinctly and charged with great momentum; development was to be found in every corner. This digestible nature surprisingly eluded itself from pitfalls of over-simplification and shallowness, a feat that further proved itself during and beyond the narrative's critical twists and turns. Expanding on that, it is not that its first few chapters were poor by any means. Instead, Cain seemed to find greater assurance of his plotting and intentions for his characters as the narrative continued to unfold. Cora and Frank managed to break out of their archetypal shells and exposed the depth that existed beneath them. Cain builds upon everything that was established towards an ending that honestly tore my heart to pieces. This was perhaps an influence from my tendencies to bring my own baggage and experiences into the reading process, of which I was rewarded for unconsciously doing so.

As glowing as this review may be, I must address the fact that I am not a fan of Cain's usage of dialogue. Not so much with the content itself, but in the manner in which he presented them to his readers. Dialogue passages all of a sudden emerged out of the text without an indication of who may have been saying it. There wasn't enough nuance and differentiators in his speaking characters for one to immediately identify who was speaking. This proved to be a disruptive con that did bring out waves of irritation, especially during the earlier chapters of the story. Had this not been a personal issue for me, I probably would have gushed at this novel with immense positivity. Heck, maybe that may even be the case if I do decide to give this novel a second round.

As it traces the tragic experience of a young child in the midst of a World War, Ballard utilises such a plot to explore the youthful wonder in a landscape filled with tragedy and almost absolute suffering. Through the eyes of Jim, Ballard navigates his readers to a road of soul-searching, hoping to gain clarity on his sole purpose within such a radically changed environment, always in search of a role model to shape his ambitions, loyalties, and values.

The reach that Ballard attempts to grasp is admirable, at times even engaging, but his approach in storytelling feels dry with its descriptions lacking in vividness and specificity, and the drama that churns within our protagonist feels half-baked. There seems to be an intention to look at the events from a larger point of view, close but not within Jim's perspective. That being said, it is the necessity for further intimacy with the protagonist that would have proven crucial in highlighting the personalised experience that such a narrative was trying to share.

Momentum and my general impression did show an improvement as the novel moved along, as familiarity with all of the secondary characters and their relationship with Jim became further established. However, in the end, I still feel that Ballard had led me to all of these moments and experiences but showed me actually very little.

Wilde doesn't spend a great deal of time trying to ease you into its philosophical tendencies, rather, it pushes you deep into its thematic and aesthetic waters. Insight into the characters and the novel's themes are immediate, and might I say, stimulating. There is a flow in its words that stirs one's hunger for the ideas that it is trying to impart to its readers, whilst tying such an approach with its goals to invest in its characters; a sense of care that is felt in the titular character's undoubtful descent and with no means to spare him from criticism.

Speaking of criticism, The Picture of Dorian Gray, also advertently places the concept of art under scrutiny. Time and time again, we are treated to conversations that explored the nature of art itself and the canvas that it exists upon, may that be the actual portrait that houses the vanity of Dorian or the perspective of some of the novel's characters of their lives and the world that they interact with. It also speaks upon the ease of corruption of the human soul, the tendency to favour one's own needs and desires, whilst disregarding others'. It is this relationship between humanity and art that resonates with me and encourages me to reflect on my own relationship with it.

It wouldn't be hard for me to believe if there were a number who would find Wilde's writing to be superfluous, pretentious, and overly dramatic, as it steers clear from the practicality of human existence. However, I see that also as a necessary evil to the criticism that Wilde is trying to showcase here. Even in the choice of centring its own narration into the isolated world of Dorian is a form of critique of that self-importance, one that never for a moment dwells on romanticising such luxurious and pompous pursuits. Yet, managing to still do so whilst keeping his readers' interest in following such a protagonist.

Whilst at present, my thoughts on the novel are glowing, comprehension and a fuller sense of appreciation would be attained in subsequent visits within the course of my lifetime. But at this moment, I cannot help but be an advocate for its necessity to be read.

A tale that recounts the ambition and frailty of the human condition that never ceases to entertain. It acts as a sort of lesson or foreshadowing for its readers, with the narration, at times, demonstrating signs of self-awareness. Sir Gawain, as noble and courageous as he is, is conveyed as a man capable of weakness, like everyone else, and yet what it wants us to leave with is the inspiring manner in which the protagonist takes that on board to build his character.