Poe is a weirdo writer and I am all over weirdos, specially brilliant ones. His poetic gothic writing is so hunting and beautiful, the way he describePoe is a weirdo writer and I am all over weirdos, specially brilliant ones. His poetic gothic writing is so hunting and beautiful, the way he describes things and people is just amazing, although he has this thing where he loves to challenge the readers not to use a dictionary pretty often, but you'd never hate him for that because his words are all sentimental and idealistic and somehow you will feel smart reading them..
Okay, "the tales part", well... The Fall of House of Usher is my favorite; I could relate a lot to how the narrator feels toward this creepy, gloomy dark house, which makes me wonder if the House of Usher is not a mere house, but maybe a state of being, like some sort of heavy weight pressing down one's chest. From the very start of the story, the narrator describes the way he feels as well as the things he observes while approaching the house, Poe uses such poetic, complex, deep words to describe this. Take a look;
“During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was—but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me—upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon the vacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium—the bitter lapse into every-day life—the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime."
This whole gothic themes, and the sadness, Poe puts you in is scary. I mean the power of words, people. I could take out that quote and compare it to a five hundreds pages written book and yet Poe would still win with just that quote. Gotta love him.
When it comes to his poems, there are few ones that I genuinely loved, and others that I could not understand. My favorites: A Dream Within A Dream, Tamerlane, Annabel.. and so many more. On a side note, I was REALLY astonished of how Poe was influenced by so many Islamic\Quran themes. Great book....more
I had a quite bad image of the feelings I thought I'd have reading The Bell Jar, none of these feelings, however, had me laughing out loud, I just didI had a quite bad image of the feelings I thought I'd have reading The Bell Jar, none of these feelings, however, had me laughing out loud, I just did not see it. I thought I would feel anything but not happiness or laughter. I was wrong, apparently. Sylvia can be pretty funny, I don't know if she intended it, but instead of reading the book with my tears falling down my eyes, I found myself, sometimes, smiling or even laughing... which is weird, I know.
In this semi-autobiographical novel about a woman going insane, Sylvia tries her best to hide names or even herself, but you can still feel all of her soul in the pages she's written. Esther, presumably Sylvia, portraits depression in such an honest way, as it does not start on simply, she does not wake up feeling all sad and hopeless, the magic lies on the way this book is able to drive you through depression and self loathing without realizing how or when it actually started.
Sylvia writing is vivid and personal. As a woman myself I can pretty much understand every single thing she's felt; her fears of getting married and being a mere worshipper of some man, the society's exceptions for her to be nothing but a pure naive little virgin, and the way she felt toward Buddy when she knew he was not as pure as she thought, the way she felt while taking a bath or her inner wishes to always be someone else in somewhere in Europe, all of these is a long list of things I can easily see myself identifying with. Yet, for some reasons, I was not touched at all while reading The Bell Jar. I felt numb all the way reading it. I know some people who hated the book because "it's too dark", for me, it was not even dark enough. I kept wishing if Sylvia had written more details about the way she felt rather than writing a plot of nothing much happening. Also, I wished Sylvia had given us more sense of her inner struggle; the parts where she thinks of how she wanted to kill herself? Yeah, I wanted more of that, more of her romanticizing death, more of her happy memories with her father, more words of how detached she felt from everything. I really felt sorry realizing how the book did nothing for me, I liked several quotes and all, but it was not enough. Were it edgier and more depressing, I think it might have worked for me. I am sorry, Sylvia.
P.S: I think Sylvia is funny and so smart and beautiful (not that it matters), and I'll always be interested in her life and poems. My problem is not with her, maybe with this book but not her. I'm halfway through her complete journals and I'm pretty much enjoying them, maybe more than this one?...more
I must admit that I liked Frost a lot more when I thought his poems were all similar to "The Road not Taken". You know, nice understandable poems abouI must admit that I liked Frost a lot more when I thought his poems were all similar to "The Road not Taken". You know, nice understandable poems about human nature and life's choices with lots of rural settings. But I guess I was wrong, Frost can get into deep philosophical poems and make you sound pretty stupid trying to analyse whatever the hell he was trying to say.
BUT. BUT I still love him deeply for he is an extraordinary poet especially when he writes simply. I do find myself close to his simple poems; they are filled with self-discovery and beautiful images. I highlighted lots of lines and put heart stickers all over them, because I guess after all, I am still that little girl who read Frost's poems and thought of him as her long-time dead friend; one that she takes walks with and talks about life... and silly stuff.
**spoiler alert** If I could describe this short novel with only one word, it would be painful. The novel follows the story of three Palestinian men w**spoiler alert** If I could describe this short novel with only one word, it would be painful. The novel follows the story of three Palestinian men who try to escape their miserable lives, looking for jobs in Kuwait to enable them to pay their debts or giving their children a better eduction, a better life, but they die from heat in a truck's tank as they were hiding from the last check point. Abu Khaizuran, the truck driver, though as sad as he was, allows himself to search the dead bodies' pockets, takes whatever he finds before throwing their bodies into a pile of refuse hoping someone else will give them a respectful funeral.
The novel is filled with symbolism and metaphors. Abu Khaizuran, for example, can easily be a symbol for government\kings; his coward actions are probably the reason why Ghassan chose to strips his manhood off him. The last part of the story when Abu Khaizuran screams in the middle of the desert:"why didn't they knock on the metal container to save their lives?" and listens to his question being echoed over and over, was pretty hard to read. Whether the three men silence is meant as a hopeless surrender that maybe, for once, life seemed to hard to keep on living, or perhaps to show how isolated they were even at times when they needed help the most, the question is still reflecting many political situations.
There are lots of things that have been assumed of Shakespeare the Person. All of which we are not sure of; his iconic face, might be a face of anotheThere are lots of things that have been assumed of Shakespeare the Person. All of which we are not sure of; his iconic face, might be a face of another person, his plays and poems might be a work of some highly educated nobleman who used Shakespeare as a pen name. Rumors and theories are basically all what we know of him, as a person. Bryson takes this subject and writes about it, though as much as we have already read, in such a pleasant entertaining way. The fact that Bryson is able to write about Shakespeare without making another scholarly treatise book, is by itself a literary privilege on so many levels.
Those, like me, who are not into biographies, this book won't trouble you at all. It's easy to read, funny, and so rich of information. Historical information on geography, politics, and the impact of Shakespeare's writings. What I loved the most here is that Bryson does not glorify Shakespeare at all; he actually quotes different people's criticisms of Shakespeare writing style. Take this for example:
"Shakespeare was capable of prolixity, unnecessary obscurity, awkwardness of expression, pedestrian versifying and verbal inelegance," writes Stanley Wells. "Even in his greatest plays we sometimes sense him struggling with plot at the expense of language, or allowing his pen to run away with him in speeches of greater length than the situation warrants." Or as Charles Lamb put it much earlier, Shakespeare "runs line into line, embarrasses sentences and metaphors; before one idea has burst its shell, another is hatched out and clamorous for disclosure."
In very few pages, the book may not offer a lot of new information, but rather succeeds in collecting what have been said and presenting them in such an entertaining way. ...more
قبل فترة قصيره، بدأت اولي اهتمامًا لرسائل الحب بين الكُتاب. في بداية الأمر اهتمامي كان مقصورًا على حالات الحب اللتي لم تتم باللقاء كحالة جبران و مي زيقبل فترة قصيره، بدأت اولي اهتمامًا لرسائل الحب بين الكُتاب. في بداية الأمر اهتمامي كان مقصورًا على حالات الحب اللتي لم تتم باللقاء كحالة جبران و مي زيادة، من ثم قرأت لبرناد شو و وباتريك كامبل الئ ان قرأت ان غسان كنفاني، الاديب الفلسطيني المقاوم، له رسائل كتبها خلال عامين الى غادة السمان.
لم اكن متحمسه جدًا لأطلع على هذه الرسائل، لأني كالاغلبيه عرفت جانب واحد من غسان؛ عرفته كرجل صاحب قضية عاش و مات مناضلًا. خفت آن تتغير هذه الصوره, خصوصاً بعد معرفتي بأن غسان كان وقتها يرسل هذه الرسائل بالرغم من ارتباطه بزوجتة و طفليه فايز و ليلئ. لكن، كقارئه له ايقنت بوجوب معرفتي بكل جوانب غسان ما احبه و ما قد اكرهه.
(غسان مع طفليه)
الآن بعد انتهائي من قراءة الرسائل، لا استطيع معرفة شعوري تجاهها. الرسائل اضافت لصورة غسان صورة العاشق المسكين، فتقريبا في كل رسائله يحاكي غادة متوسلًا لها بلقاء.. او حتئ رد. عشقه لها صعب التصديق، خصوصًا اني اتمنئ ان اعرف سببه. غادة لم تبدو لي إلا إمراءه مغروره و قاسيه و بالرغم من ذلك غسان احبها و استمر في ارسال الرسائل....
الرسائل كأسلوب ادبي ليست مثاليه لكنها صادقة جدًا غسان لم يكتبها لتنشر لكن غاده نشرتها بعد موته. أنرجسيةً منها ام لحقيقة رغبتها بإطلاع القراء علئ جانب آخر من غسان، هو سؤال غادة لن ترد عليه ابداً..
صورة غسان، بالنسبة إلي، لم تتغير. فمعرفتي ان بداخله كان عاشقًا، بغض النظر عن صحته، جعلتني ارتبط فيه اكثر.....more