I didn’t finish the book. I read about the first 100 pages and then the epilogues. As much as I tried to like it, I didn’t enjoy it; it didn’t engage me. Perhaps it was because it seemed the result of a mashup of The Stranger by Camus and The Trial by Kafka (both of which I’ve already read) about a man who may have done something, but doesn’t know why he did it, refusing to defend himself of the charges as told by Aldous Huxley (as he told the story in Point Counter Point full of psychological mutterings among the characters). I chose The Black Prince from among the works by Murdoch on Cohen’s list because it seemed the one with the richest plot structure, which would be appropriate since this chapter of the blog is about plotting techniques.
The plot, unfortunately, was almost comedic (the portion I read through). It begin with a phone call from a friend asking Bradley (the protagonist) to come over because he thought he killed his wife (he hadn’t). Then his ex-wife calls, threatening a visit. Then his psychologist friend shows up. Then his sister shows up and overdoses on an emetic. It’s like a 1960’s “come as you are party” for his life! If the characters had been filled out, it might have made sense why this was all happening; as it was, it just seemed contrived.
The characters are flat, which evidently is done on purpose (from what I gathered from the epilogues “written” by different characters and the “editor” of the book). The reader was supposed to read Bradley’s account of the story, believing entirely in the version proffered. At the epilogues at the end, the reader was to be shocked by revelations from other characters that things were not always as Bradley had interpreted them. Truly, the fact that a character, especially one telling a first-person story, can misunderstand, or even be biased toward, those around him isn’t a revelation worthy of this murder-mystery plot structure. The book was supposed to be a Sherlock Holmes for the soul; but it didn’t work for me.
Other books I’ve started off Cohen’s bookshelf but didn’t finish because I couldn’t get through them (especially knowing there were so many great books still to read). Since I’m about 1/7 of the way through the list of books, this might be a good time to mention some of the “drops” from the list.
I started Jane Austen’s Emma (which is actually on the reading list for the next chapter) and couldn’t finish it (at least in any reasonable time frame). I suppose I just wasn’t ready to read it; especially since it’s such a popular and well-reviewed book. I found it very tedious to read and the characters flat and shallow (and unmemorable, I kept forgetting the previous characters as new ones were introduced). They didn’t seem to stand on their own enough to generate plot; instead, Austen fed them plot through their dialogue, ruining the whole of the dialogue, their personalities, and the plot.
I had originally intended to read more Charles Dickens, starting with Dombey and Son, but it seemed to me the involving stories were being dragged on beyond relief by the nature of their being published in serial form. I was drudging through Dombey and Son making slow progress when I switched to Great Expectations, one of his greatest novels (apparently, while A Christmas Tale is liked best in America and David Copperfield is liked best in Great Britain, Great Expectations ranks the highest on both lists). Great Expectations ended up bringing its own amount of torture being, likewise, drawn out to great length for serial publication (and being published in a serial that Dickens himself had just started).
I trudged through it, enjoying the plot tremendously, dreading his tiresome conceits (such as a special descriptive paragraph each and every time a new character or place is introduced). Knowing my difficulties reading Dickens, and in the interest of time for getting this blog published, I took all of the remaining Dickens off the list, except for David Copperfield. My loss, certainly.
No comments:
Post a Comment