I've been successfully going back and forth between St. Mawr and Cloud Atlas, made easy because of their forms. CA is divided into ~80 page sections, with each one being a personal testimony (letters, diaries) that is found by the protagonist of the following section; St. Mawr is a short novel and written with lots of quick, small dialogue that makes for fast reading.
As for the first part of Cloud Atlas, I loved it for a couple of reasons. It follows an American notary in the mid-1800s on a Dutch merchant ship docked in New Zealand, so the sailors, captains, and general nautical atmosphere reminded me a lot of The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, which also takes place on a ship at port (though in Japan).
I also really enjoyed the historical aspect of this section; after reading a novel called The Bone People, written by an extremely talented author who should write another novel (in my opinion) named Keri Hulme, I became really interested in the Maori, of whom I had previously known next to nothing about. The book was extremely intense and not what I had expected, but definitely stunning (side note: The Bone People serves as a great success story on picking a book by its cover!). It was great to read about the Maori again, especially since it is completely different take on the culture (Hulme is from New Zealand herself). Cloud Atlas even includes a small but helpful historical summary of the Maori's enslavement of the Moriori.
The second part of the novel moves forward in time to the 1920s and is a compilation of letters written by a young, egotistic musician who despite his inflated self-image is strangely likable. Broke and disinherited, he goes to the house of the sickly musician Vyvyan Arys, who had put his talent away after the onset of his illness, with the hope of working for some money (and fame) by helping Arys compose music again.
The novel is really engaging, though I had started the novel once before and couldn't get too far. Mitchell's writing is masterful. The diary of Ewing, the American notary, is filled with some beautiful sentences and the letters are actually pretty funny. Both characters, though the sections seem to end too soon, have formed clearly in my mind and seem to be complex, consistent. Even the different settings become personal after only less than fifty pages devoted to each. It is also very craftily done, the way in which each section is read by the next character. The young epistle-writing composer finds Ewing's diary in Ary's mansion, and though he has some weird feelings about it he sells it (behind Ary's back, of course). Both sections end abruptly, with the diary literally cutting off in the middle of a sentence. I see how it can make some readers lose interest, especially since I know these characters won't be (directly) re-introduced until the end of the novel.
On the other hand, St. Mawr is really hitting me hard. Unlike In the Time of the Butterflies, this novella is harder to read in the context of the class assigning it; the text should be fitting into the Jungian Individuation progress, but I find it hard to focus on that while reading. St. Mawr is about Louise Witt, an American woman married to Rico. The couple who once had what is implied as a passionate love affair have grown (outwardly) indifferent, and their relationship is described as that of a sister and brother. Lou buys a new Stallion named St. Mawr for her husband, but a more ill-suited pair could not be found. The horse is fiery, filled with a mysterious importance that is both literal and symbolic. Rico cannot stand the horse and tries to subdue him. Throughout the novella, Lou is depressed with the state of life around her, as is her mother. They are both sick of men like Rico: well-bred, passive, "like old women knitting." Lou's mother may take it as humorous and enjoys subtly mocking everyone, but Louise is thoroughly disheartened, going so far as to declare her preference of death over living such an empty life. Lou finds solace in only three things: St. Mawr and two groomsmen, Lewis and Phoenix, whom she sees as having the same animalistic fierceness, understanding and force of life that is found in her horse.
The book is extremely emotionally and sensually charged, full of strange dialogue that is always heavier than the length of quotations would hint at. I love it, though, and I perhaps read it at the best/worst time...like I said earlier, it really strikes me hard. It reminds me a lot of Death in Venice, though it could be because I read both on the Kindle! St. Mawr seems to have that same heavy atmosphere I remember being in Mann's novella.
I had a crazy day of reading yesterday, which ended with me sleeping for about ten hours! After having read all day at school, I came home and read with my sister. Then I spent most of the evening curled up in my bed reading, reading, reading. It was wonderful!
No comments:
Post a Comment