Circe by Madeline Miller
The Song of Achilles blew me away, and now I've had the chance to drink up Circe, Miller's other epic novel that is an absolute masterpiece.
Spanning eons, Circe tells her life story as a god. I could tell you the particulars of the plot, but while it's completely engrossing, it's not where the novel shines the brightest. The writing is glorious, true art in itself. And the story weaves together so much Greek mythology that we are treated to a different glimpse of these characters we've heard about over the years--what fuels them, the relationships they had amongst themselves, their pettiness. I never imagined I could feel ambivalent toward Athena.
The courage of Circe, her life as a witch, and her compassion toward mortals enveloped me for days. I feared the end of the novel because I didn't want to leave the space the novel created in my life. We have so much to see in ourselves by reading about these gods and the mortals they interacted with. Greek mythology has been presented to me as somewhat silly, something that ignorant people clung to when they didn't know better. Now I see that we aren't that different with our beliefs today, or in how we respond to our lives.
General consensus: This is a voyage into another realm that forces us to expand our sense of reality.
Showing posts with label Magical Realism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Magical Realism. Show all posts
Saturday, January 11, 2020
Sunday, March 25, 2018
Book Report #188 - Mr. Wilson's Cabinet of Wonder
Mr. Wilson's Cabinet of Wonder: Pronged Ants, Horned Humans, Mice on Toast, and Other Marvels of Jurassic Technology by Lawrence Weschler
I tagged this with categories that seem opposed: non-fiction and magical realism. That's because the book is about the Museum of Jurassic Technology in Los Angeles. Museums are reputable institutions intending to share information. So that's non-fiction, right? The thing is, this museum is dedicated to the Lower Jurassic period and people are fuzzy on whether that's actually a thing.
I'm relatively certain it's not a thing but since I love this museum and this book so much, I haven't shut the door on it. Maybe there is a Lower Jurassic period and they simply neglected to tell me about it in school?
And that's the best thing about the museum and the most riveting part of this book. You can't say for sure what's real and what's not. The author was lucky enough to know the museum's founder, David Wilson, personally and he shares stories about their encounters. Mr. Wilson runs the museum at a loss, barely hanging on, and handles the front desk himself, taking accordion breaks on Venice Boulevard as necessary.
We get a tour of the museum's exhibits, and they seem absurd at first, but then you get a serious, museum-like explanation and you think, maybe. But the explanation seemed to expect you were aware of the existence of the item you're considering, like the horn of a human woman, and you weren't at all, and it builds on that assumption, starting strong but then meandering to seemingly unrelated matters, and then ending in a fashion where you're left wondering how it connected to anything previously said. Yet, that doesn't make it wrong. It just makes you confused. And is that really so different from most things you read in museums?
The thing about the micro-miniature sculptures, so tiny they're housed in the eyes of needles, is that I saw them with my own eyes, so I can't say they're not real. But is the story about the artist, who created these at night after his family went to sleep, so careful he did it between heartbeats, so precise his paintbrush was a human hair, true? I think it might be. So if that's true, what does that say about the other exhibits? And what is the significance of the hall of oil paintings of dogs of the Soviet Space Program?
The book even delves into how Mr. Wilson came to have many of the pieces in the museum, so maybe we're left with knowing something but maybe not, and the history of collections like this before the Age of Enlightenment. It warmed my heart to know that there was a time when even the West was infatuated with wonder and awe.
General consensus: The most thrilling and delightful ride I've had in any academic pursuit.
I tagged this with categories that seem opposed: non-fiction and magical realism. That's because the book is about the Museum of Jurassic Technology in Los Angeles. Museums are reputable institutions intending to share information. So that's non-fiction, right? The thing is, this museum is dedicated to the Lower Jurassic period and people are fuzzy on whether that's actually a thing.
I'm relatively certain it's not a thing but since I love this museum and this book so much, I haven't shut the door on it. Maybe there is a Lower Jurassic period and they simply neglected to tell me about it in school?
And that's the best thing about the museum and the most riveting part of this book. You can't say for sure what's real and what's not. The author was lucky enough to know the museum's founder, David Wilson, personally and he shares stories about their encounters. Mr. Wilson runs the museum at a loss, barely hanging on, and handles the front desk himself, taking accordion breaks on Venice Boulevard as necessary.
We get a tour of the museum's exhibits, and they seem absurd at first, but then you get a serious, museum-like explanation and you think, maybe. But the explanation seemed to expect you were aware of the existence of the item you're considering, like the horn of a human woman, and you weren't at all, and it builds on that assumption, starting strong but then meandering to seemingly unrelated matters, and then ending in a fashion where you're left wondering how it connected to anything previously said. Yet, that doesn't make it wrong. It just makes you confused. And is that really so different from most things you read in museums?
The thing about the micro-miniature sculptures, so tiny they're housed in the eyes of needles, is that I saw them with my own eyes, so I can't say they're not real. But is the story about the artist, who created these at night after his family went to sleep, so careful he did it between heartbeats, so precise his paintbrush was a human hair, true? I think it might be. So if that's true, what does that say about the other exhibits? And what is the significance of the hall of oil paintings of dogs of the Soviet Space Program?
The book even delves into how Mr. Wilson came to have many of the pieces in the museum, so maybe we're left with knowing something but maybe not, and the history of collections like this before the Age of Enlightenment. It warmed my heart to know that there was a time when even the West was infatuated with wonder and awe.
General consensus: The most thrilling and delightful ride I've had in any academic pursuit.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Book Report #186 - The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake
The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender
Rose's mom celebrates her daughter's birthday by baking her a lemon chocolate cake and that's when Rose's life changes forever. She unlocks her gift: that she can taste people's feelings through the food they make. It's pretty inconvenient for a kid to have this ability. She doesn't want to know the things she knows, and she doesn't want food to taste so bad.
What's most amazing about this book is the writing itself. It's a magical journey, and it's captivating. There's no way to put down the plot here and not have it come off sounding ridiculous. You have to let go of how you believe the world should operate, and go on the ride. In that way, the book is liberating, even transcendent.
General consensus: I loved it and I also felt like I lived it. And then I baked a lemon chocolate cake.
Rose's mom celebrates her daughter's birthday by baking her a lemon chocolate cake and that's when Rose's life changes forever. She unlocks her gift: that she can taste people's feelings through the food they make. It's pretty inconvenient for a kid to have this ability. She doesn't want to know the things she knows, and she doesn't want food to taste so bad.
What's most amazing about this book is the writing itself. It's a magical journey, and it's captivating. There's no way to put down the plot here and not have it come off sounding ridiculous. You have to let go of how you believe the world should operate, and go on the ride. In that way, the book is liberating, even transcendent.
General consensus: I loved it and I also felt like I lived it. And then I baked a lemon chocolate cake.
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