12. Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
I’m going to preface this review by saying that I have never liked Dickens. I think his prose is way too florid, and he spends too much time talking about details no one cares about. Coming from the queen of overwriting and wordiness, that’s saying something. However, I felt jipped about not being assigned to read this book during the school year, and, seeing as it is a great classic, I decided to give Dickens a chance to redeem himself. I joined a group that was reading this for their choice book (which I ultimately regretted because my group sucked, but never mind that).
Tale of Two Cities is a novel of epic scope. As it follows the fates of all of its characters, it also seems to hold the fate of two whole countries—Britain and France—in the balance. Plus, it’s against the backdrop of the French Revolution, which is one of my favorite historical periods. However, besides the overarching story of history, Tale also follows the fate of a large ensemble cast of characters too large to get into in this review. If there was anything great about this novel, it was the sheer diversity and depth to its characters, which almost compensates for the shitty prose style.
The two main characters are Charles Darnay and Sidney Carton, the first a Frenchman, the latter an Englishman; both look remarkably alike, and yet they are starkly different people. Still, they share a love for one Lucie Mannette, the daughter of a long-time prisoner in the Bastille. That is the driving force behind most of their actions, which I won’t really get into too much because the plot is fairly well-known to most—and if you don’t know it, you should really read the book, because that is one of the other main attractions to reading it.
Overall, I’d recommend reading an abridged version if you don’t want to spend a ton of time on this book, because again, the prose style is lurid and gross. It’s the characters (with the exception of Darnay and Lucie, who are as dull as pasteboard) and the plot that make it a worthwhile read. Look out for Madame Defarge; she’s my absolute favorite, and she is definitely the strongest female character in my book.
(Tee hee, see what I did there?)
13. Where Angels Fear to Tread, E. M. Forster
I’ve been in love with E.M. Forster since reading Howard’s End. The prose style is brilliant, doing a great job of balancing a healthy amount of detail and description with actually propelling the plot forward. More than that, I love his characters, and I love the social commentary he does on class and love and idealism and just British-ness in general. He ranks up there with Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte as one of my favorite (classics) authors. :)
The novel is essentially a family drama, revolving around the Herritons: Mrs. Herriton, a sharp-witted woman who channels her intelligence towards making their family as middle-class as possible; Harriet, her spinster daughter, who is obnoxious, shrewish and moralistic; Phillip, her bachelor son, who is best described as a sort of detached, foppish intellectual with a love for Italy; and finally, the widowed Lilia Herriton, Mrs. Herriton’s daughter-in-law and the shame of the family. Lilia is a hopelessly silly and free-spirited woman who does not fit the oppressive Herriton middle-class-ish-ness, which worries the family because her ~scandalous behavior with men could easily reflect on them and Lilia’s daughter. In order to get her out of the way, the family packs Lilia off with one Caroline Abbott, who requires a companion on her trip to Italy. And all is well for the family for a time; from Lilia’s letters back, they even get the impression that she is “improving”. However, suddenly, without warning, the family receives word that Lilia plans to marry an Italian. Chaos ensues as the Herritons scramble to go to Italy and stop that rash, imprudent marriage in its tracks.
I did love this piece by Forster, as I expected to. It’s not as refined in its style as Howard’s End was, but I think he wrote this earlier, so that is fine in my mind. The one problem with it, of course, is inherent in almost all of Forster’s pieces: it’s annoyingly depressing. When the ending came, I wanted to throw my Kindle at the wall, I was that frustrated with two annoyingly stupid characters. (Luckily, I didn’t, as Kindles are expensive, you know.)
Ultimately, though, I think that giving the piece such a frustrating ending probably lent it more meaning than if it had had a happy ending. Thus, if you like this kind of thing, with hilariously absurd situations and social commentary on rigidity and class, I highly recommend Where Angels Fear to Tread. It’s a brilliant read.
I’m going to preface this review by saying that I have never liked Dickens. I think his prose is way too florid, and he spends too much time talking about details no one cares about. Coming from the queen of overwriting and wordiness, that’s saying something. However, I felt jipped about not being assigned to read this book during the school year, and, seeing as it is a great classic, I decided to give Dickens a chance to redeem himself. I joined a group that was reading this for their choice book (which I ultimately regretted because my group sucked, but never mind that).
Tale of Two Cities is a novel of epic scope. As it follows the fates of all of its characters, it also seems to hold the fate of two whole countries—Britain and France—in the balance. Plus, it’s against the backdrop of the French Revolution, which is one of my favorite historical periods. However, besides the overarching story of history, Tale also follows the fate of a large ensemble cast of characters too large to get into in this review. If there was anything great about this novel, it was the sheer diversity and depth to its characters, which almost compensates for the shitty prose style.
The two main characters are Charles Darnay and Sidney Carton, the first a Frenchman, the latter an Englishman; both look remarkably alike, and yet they are starkly different people. Still, they share a love for one Lucie Mannette, the daughter of a long-time prisoner in the Bastille. That is the driving force behind most of their actions, which I won’t really get into too much because the plot is fairly well-known to most—and if you don’t know it, you should really read the book, because that is one of the other main attractions to reading it.
Overall, I’d recommend reading an abridged version if you don’t want to spend a ton of time on this book, because again, the prose style is lurid and gross. It’s the characters (with the exception of Darnay and Lucie, who are as dull as pasteboard) and the plot that make it a worthwhile read. Look out for Madame Defarge; she’s my absolute favorite, and she is definitely the strongest female character in my book.
(Tee hee, see what I did there?)
13. Where Angels Fear to Tread, E. M. Forster
I’ve been in love with E.M. Forster since reading Howard’s End. The prose style is brilliant, doing a great job of balancing a healthy amount of detail and description with actually propelling the plot forward. More than that, I love his characters, and I love the social commentary he does on class and love and idealism and just British-ness in general. He ranks up there with Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte as one of my favorite (classics) authors. :)
The novel is essentially a family drama, revolving around the Herritons: Mrs. Herriton, a sharp-witted woman who channels her intelligence towards making their family as middle-class as possible; Harriet, her spinster daughter, who is obnoxious, shrewish and moralistic; Phillip, her bachelor son, who is best described as a sort of detached, foppish intellectual with a love for Italy; and finally, the widowed Lilia Herriton, Mrs. Herriton’s daughter-in-law and the shame of the family. Lilia is a hopelessly silly and free-spirited woman who does not fit the oppressive Herriton middle-class-ish-ness, which worries the family because her ~scandalous behavior with men could easily reflect on them and Lilia’s daughter. In order to get her out of the way, the family packs Lilia off with one Caroline Abbott, who requires a companion on her trip to Italy. And all is well for the family for a time; from Lilia’s letters back, they even get the impression that she is “improving”. However, suddenly, without warning, the family receives word that Lilia plans to marry an Italian. Chaos ensues as the Herritons scramble to go to Italy and stop that rash, imprudent marriage in its tracks.
I did love this piece by Forster, as I expected to. It’s not as refined in its style as Howard’s End was, but I think he wrote this earlier, so that is fine in my mind. The one problem with it, of course, is inherent in almost all of Forster’s pieces: it’s annoyingly depressing. When the ending came, I wanted to throw my Kindle at the wall, I was that frustrated with two annoyingly stupid characters. (Luckily, I didn’t, as Kindles are expensive, you know.)
Ultimately, though, I think that giving the piece such a frustrating ending probably lent it more meaning than if it had had a happy ending. Thus, if you like this kind of thing, with hilariously absurd situations and social commentary on rigidity and class, I highly recommend Where Angels Fear to Tread. It’s a brilliant read.
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