Dawn by Elie Wiesel

So, same guy as last time, but with a fiction title, as opposed to a memoir. This should be somewhat easier to critique than Night due to this, but I seem to be kind of distracted at the moment (I will be happy when Christmas prep is over); regardless, I shall make a damn good try at reviewing Dawn.

Dawn takes place in British-controlled Palestine, during the conflict between the Jewish residents and the British occupants. Elisha, the main character and narrator, is a member of the Jewish resistance movement and a survivor of the Holocaust; his faith in the movement is challenged when he is charged with killing a captive English army officer as a response to the execution of one of their comrades. For the majority of the book, Elisha is left to question whether he has it in him to kill someone in cold blood, especially in the name of someone he has never even met.
I liked Dawn primarily because the internal conflict that Elisha goes through seems very true and is great for creating sympathy for him. For me, it was an interesting dynamic, especially following on the heels of Night: in Night, it's obvious who the audience is meant to sympathise with, while Dawn takes the same sympathy and complicates it with the always complex question of terrorism and political violence. It does get a little bit odd when he starts seeing dead people, but otherwise I thought it worked really well.

Overall, a well-written, interesting examination of guilt. It's also encouraged me to do more research into the situation in that era of Palestine, especially having realised that my Grandfather would have been carrying out his compulsory military service out there at around that time. Definitely worth a look. 4.5/5

Next review: The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco.

Signing off,
Nisa.

Night by Elie Wiesel

This is going to be a tough one to talk about. Trying to take a critical view of an autobiography always is, seeing as obviously there is no "plot" to speak of, just life events; that Night is an autobiographical account of  life in the concentration camps of Nazi Germany, that becomes even harder. But I have a little while before life catches up on me again, so I'll give it a go.

As I mentioned in the introduction there, this is author Elie Wiesel's account of his experiences in Nazi concentration camps as a teenager. It depicts the rounding up of the Jews in his small Romanian village, his separation from his mother and sisters and the gradual break-down of normal life and human dignity, until American soldiers liberated the camp. It's a sobering experience, and definitely an important text from a social aspect. I'm just not sure that it would really create the same effect as it would have done when people first started trying to deal with their collective history.
Let me explain. I am not saying that the events depicted are not horrifying or deeply damning of human nature; the events still hold a lot of significance. I just think that the impact of them may well be diluted because, well, who doesn't know about the Holocaust? Who hasn't seen at least one film dealing with the Holocaust and its consequences? I just think that, in this day and age when the atrocities carried out against the Jews and many other groups that were considered "undesirable" are well-known and taught to children across the world, it can seem perhaps too familiar. It's an odd thing to argue: on the one hand, people need to know because the day we forget the deaths of over 6 million people is the day that we reach rock bottom as a species, but on the other hand, too much exposure and we risk getting bored by it, sad as it is to say that. I think that perhaps this book has lost some of its power because many of the images are familiar to us through film and literature.
Another thing that I think goes against this book is that the Holocaust is not an experience that can be transferred to other people through mere words. Words are a seriously imperfect tool, and the Holocaust is one of those things that I don't think anyone who didn't experience it for themselves will ever understand, not anywhere near it.
Please don't misunderstand, I don't mean these points to be criticism of the book itself; these are more points of criticism for the society that it will be reaching in years to come. In the next few decades, we will most likely lose the last of the survivors of the Second World War and the Holocaust; I honestly dread that day, because at that point, the only things that we will have will be records like this and the films that we have made to try and understand what happened. And admirable as they are, they will never be enough.

This review kind of went off track, and I didn't really talk about the book all that much. Probably because it is the kind of book that is beyond the realm of criticism. I would recommend that people read Night, if only so that we can see the signs when history inevitably repeats itself again. 5/5

Next review: Dawn by Elie Wiesel.

Signing off,
Nisa.

Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse

Of all the Hesse novels that I have in my possession, Steppenwolf was the one that I was most looking forward to reading. It was the first novel that I ever really associated with Hesse as a figure in my mind, and for me the psychological aspect was one of the more interesting that I had heard. So the only question remaining is whether it lived up to my expectations.

Steppenwolf is the story of Harry Haller, a seemingly normal intellectual living in 1920s Germany. In reality he is a mess of a man, almost crippled by gout and the beginnings of old age, and alienated from the rest of bourgeois society by his personal neurosis. This neurosis takes the form, initially anyway, of the Steppenwolf, a man harbouring the souls of a man, representing higher thought and reasoning, and a wolf, representing physical urges, that are in near constant opposition. Wishing to end his life, he reluctantly begins a journey of self-discovery that promises to cause as many fresh joys and miseries as it assuages. By the end, it reaches the point where you're never quite sure what is real and what isn't.
I loved this book. As I've mentioned before, I love a good character study, and this one is probably the most in-depth, scathing and sympathetic portrait of a man that I have ever seen, if a little slow to begin with. Steppenwolf is one of those books that I would urge everyone to read at least once in their lives, as there is something there for everyone regardless of age, gender or race. For me, it strikes a chord with Harry's belief that he is destined for greater things, but the feeling that those greater things are no longer applicable in the world that he lives in; I think that everyone at some point has dreamed of being special, not just to the people you care about, but special in such a way that the whole world sits up and takes notice. At the same time, I think that everyone has had to deal with the realisation that most of the time dreams and destiny don't intermingle, and had to deal with that in their own way; Harry's problem is that he's still stuck at the stage where he's despairing for lost dreams, and so the novel is a journey for him to learn how to live in such a way that he can find satisfaction and harmony within himself. Well, that's how it seemed to me; I think if I read this again several years from now, my opinion would have altered.

By far my favourite of Hesse's work that I've read thus far. It's a book that I think should be read at least once, and I'm sure that I will read it many more times in the future. 5/5

Next review: Night by Elie Wiesel.

Signing off,
Nisa.

Narcissus and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse

So, to another edition of the Hermann Hesse analysis hour. In this edition I'll be reviewing Narcissus and Goldmund, a title I'd never even heard of until I chose Hesse as a dissertation topic. I had high hopes though, considering the interesting theme of opposition that was touted on the blurb. I only hoped that it wouldn't disappoint me like Demian did.

Narcissus and Goldmund is, at its heart, a story about the friendship between the two title characters, both of whom start out as boys attending a monastery school in medieval Germany. Narcissus is the more scholarly and wiser of the two, but very reserved and moderate in his emotions as a result. Goldmund, on the other hand, is artistic and emotional. Their friendship sort of takes a back seat though when Goldmund leaves the monastery to seek out his destiny, having realised that the life of a clergyman is not for him; thus we spend a large chunk of the novel following him in his life as a wanderer.
As you could probably guess, there isn't really much of a plot for this one. It's more a character study of the two title characters, particularly the artistic Goldmund. To be honest, I don't think that the comparative simplicity of the plot harms it at all. In fact, I would say that it helps, as it leaves more time for the reader to get a sense of these characters and ultimately come to love them. And I did honestly come to love these characters. In Narcissus, I could really sympathise with his more reserved, simpler needs, as well as the difficulty he has getting close to others, while in Goldmund I couldn't help but admire his gregarious nature and his need to express the images in his soul in some way; they felt kind of archetypal, as they each embody the qualities of the Scholar and the Artist respectively, but at the same time their interactions with each other influenced their personalities, which I thought was really interesting. Especially touching are their interactions in the final chapter, though I leave that to you to find out.

Once again with Hesse's work, I find that there's so much that I want to express about how Narcissus and Goldmund affected me, but I find that words are an imperfect medium. So I guess that I'll leave you with the assurance that it is a book that deserves wider recognition and that it affected me in a very personal way. My recommendation might sound odd, but I would say that it's a book that I would recommend to those who are at a point in their lives where choices have to be made. It's definitely what I needed after finishing the behemoth that is Don Quixote. 5/5

Next review: Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse.

Signing off,
Nisa.

Don Quixote, Books 4 & 5 by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

It's done. After three and a half weeks, I am finally done with Don Quixote. Those who read my review of the proceeding parts will be well aware that I did not like it, considering it an exercise in horror and poor attempts at humour. Did I fare any better in these parts?

Parts 4 & 5 continue the adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza as they travel across the country in search of wrongs to right. And while most of the problems that were present in the previous parts are still here in force, I will admit that these parts are more enjoyable.
So, I shall get the negative out of the way first. It's still asking you to laugh at the plight of a mentally ill man. Not only that, in Part 5, when Don Quixote's adventures from the preceding parts have become widely known to people, there are those that would purposely create false scenarios designed to trick and humiliate said mentally ill old man and his idiot squire. The jokes become more deliberately cruel, as opposed to merely absurd with a cruel streak. I still can't get behind that.
Now for the positive. It actually contained some really interesting side characters and stories, such as "The Curious Impertinent" which is the source of the term lothario. These side stories are perhaps your more traditional courtly romance kind of story, but they make a nice change from the aforementioned cruelty. The other thing that I liked was that Don Quixote actually seemed to get better as he went along. While he was still convinced of knight-errantry and enchantments, he began to see things as they really were and was ready and willing to compensate the people who he had inadvertently wronged. It was refreshing to see him confront the consequences of his actions, considering some of the harm he had wrought before.

Overall, while I still don't like it, I can at least tolerate Don Quixote in the later parts. It is evident that Cervantes was a talented writer and it just annoys me that he should be remembered and celebrated by what I can't help but of as an exercise in cruelty. Perhaps this is something to be appreciated, but I still wouldn't recommend it. 2.5/5

Next review: Narcissus and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse.

Signing off,
Nisa.

Demian by Hermann Hesse

Well everyone, it's that time again: it's the Hermann Hesse analysis hour. I'm sure that would make more sense if this were a video, but never mind that. I'll admit, this book is not one of Hesse's that I was wildly excited about reading, considering the pedestrian sound of the blurb. I'm not sure what kind of impression my review will give, but I can at least attempt something cohesive and sensible.

Demian is the story of Emil Sinclair, the pseudonym which this was originally published under, as he grows from a young boy to adulthood. As a child he boasts of a fabricated theft to a bully, a story that the bully decides to blackmail him with; terrified of what the bully wants him to do in order to pay his silence, but equally terrified of his pious parents' reaction to his lies, he suffers in silence for several weeks. That is until a strange boy, Max Demian, takes an interest in him. That is the start of their intermittent association and the self-discovery that accompanies it.
Demian is not a book that immediately grabbed me. At first I found it rather slow. By the time I got to the middle, I couldn't help but wonder whether this was some kind of prototypical Siddhartha, considering that both are concerned with self-realisation and at first their protagonists take remarkably similar paths in terms of their exploration of the world. After a while though, I couldn't help but be intrigued by the book. The use of dreams and Jungian symbols, as well as the attempt at achieving an equal of binaries such as good and evil or male and female, kept this from being a slog. Granted, these things aren't always implemented all that subtly or with much critical evaluation, but it's certainly made me more interested in further reading on the subject.
As a narrator, Emil is sympathetic, if a bit more analytical and critical than most first-person narrators I've read before; considering that he is writing all of this in retrospect, it does make sense, but it can be kind of jarring reading an undeniably adult voice during the period in which he describes and analyses his childhood thoughts. Despite this he is sympathetic and at no time do his actions seem unnatural as he travels down an incredibly difficult and fraught path of self-discovery. The other major character, the title character Demian, is something of a different story. He's a little bit harder to pin down, probably because he is clearly presented as an idealistic figure; I personally found him a bit difficult to like him all that much as he felt just a bit too much like a Mary-Sue sort of figure. At no point can I remember any of his faults that would make him feel human, at no point was he ever in the wrong; I realise that he does embody the ideal that Emil is striving to achieve, but Demian seems to embody this self-possession and perfect understanding of himself and other people at an age that I find utterly unbelievable, and it kind of pulled me out of the story. I honestly want to describe him, but all that I can remember about him is how perfect we as an audience are supposed to find him and how devoid of other personality features he was.

I feel somewhat conflicted about this book. On the one hand, there is a lot here to like, with the Jungian and philosophical slants, as well as a sympathetic narrator. On the other hand, there is this character of Demian who just does not feel right. I suppose I feel more disappointed because I had such high hopes of Hesse, considering how much I enjoyed the other books of his that I've read. 3.5/5

Next review: Don Quixote, Books 4 &5 by Miguel Cervantes Saavedra

Signing off,
Nisa.

Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino

This is an odd one. I don't even know whether I can really call Invisible Cities a novel or not. This isn't the first time I've read Calvino's work before; no, my first introduction to his work was 'Night Driver', a short story that firmly places his work into the postmodern. Even knowing that, I'm still not sure what to make of this.

The blurb of my edition states two things. First, that the book is Marco Polo talking to Kublai Khan about the cities within his realm, all of which are actually aspects of his home city, Venice. Second, a quote from Gore Vidal that states, "Of all tasks, describing the contents of a book is the most difficult and in the case of [...] Invisible Cities, perfectly irrelevant." I would be more inclined to believe Gore Vidal. While you do get scenes of Marco Polo and Kublai Khan talking, it is pretty bare and lacking conflict as a "plot"; in my head, Invisible Cities is more an exercise in world building than it is an actual novel. The majority of its chapters are 1-2 page descriptions of a fantastical city. How many of them are supposed to relate to Venice, I'm not sure; the only ones that rang true for me was one with canals (obviously) and one which is constantly under construction for fear that it will crumble once construction ends (it brought to mind the rapidly crumbling foundations). Just because their relation to the real world is tenuous at best is not a criticism from me. Far from it, in fact; whilst I was discussing what I was reading with my boyfriend, we realised just how much potential each of these cities contained. There was something about their weirdness, their unique spin on a city, that really captured my imagination in a way that I haven't experienced for years now.

This was a pretty short review, all in all. I would definitely recommend Invisible Cities, especially to those who read as an appreciation of writing as a craft, and those who enjoy the world-building aspect of it in particular. I can see it boring people who insist on deep and involving narratives, but I would recommend giving it a go. 5/5

Next review: Demian by Hermann Hesse

Signing off,
Nisa.