jeremie's reviews
105 reviews

sometimes reminded me a bit of flowers for algernon in the way is teetered on just being misery for misery’s sake, but carson mccullers exhibits a kind of restraint that prevents this work from ever falling directly into that trap. the circumstances are miserable, but realistic enough that i never felt like i was being tricked into feeling something. the chapters from mick’s point of view were especially good, and as a result other chapters felt a bit flat in comparison. mick felt so alive and her thought processes were so accurate to her character and age it made me wonder whether she wasn’t almost entirely based on mccullers as a child. overall, really loved reading this. i don’t understand the criticism that it “doesn’t have a plot” or “nothing happens” etc etc. that’s modernist literature for you! and the sooner you start to embrace that the more you will grow to love books regardless of what happens in them!!

finished this the same day as white nights by fyodor dostoevsky which feels wrong. like the literary equivalent of ‘down with the sickness’ by disturbed. this is pretty fucking bad at points i’ll be honest but there was also some parts of it that i genuinely really liked. timeline hopping was fun. art style was pretty rank at first and it either got better as it went on or i just got used to it. would’ve liked the ptsd aspect of it to be expanded on just a tad more but i guess they couldn’t lean too much into that without ruining his whole hard-ass persona. nightmare sequences were sooo good. don’t love the way this comic paints the punk scene though. not fantastic but i love ghost so 3 stars

“it will be sad, you know, to be left alone, quite alone, and not even have something to regret — nothing, absolutely nothing… because all that I have lost, all this, it was all nothing…”

some of the most beautiful prose ever written

so obvious yet so sincere, few books inspire me to write more than this one

i swore off hemingway after reading the sun also rises and not connecting with it at all and deciding that he just wasn’t for me, which was such a damn shame because i love american authors and j. d. salinger, one of my favourites of all time, cites him as one of his main inspirations. the hard-boiled style is something i thought i’d be so moved by and yet i felt nothing. 

then i read j. d. salinger’s ‘franny and zooey’ which includes the line “i see me dead in the rain” (genuinely a perfect line. i cannot imagine it any more concise or any more beautiful) and he claimed it was from a farewell to arms, and i immediately put the book down and walked to my local bookstore and got it. i was so moved by that one sentence i knew that i just needed to see it in context, even if the rest of the book was lousy.

it wasn’t. it was actually so lovely it’s making me want to reread the sun also rises because surely i was just stupid or something when i read that one?! at first i thought that maybe a farewell to arms was just better, and perhaps my fascination with war was making it more appealing to me, but then in my philosophy class my friend took it and started reading it and absolutely hated it LOL (though admittedly she did start from page 150 which must’ve made for a confusing reading experience) so i guess you just have to be in a certain state of mind for hemingway to click. and click he did! god, this was gorgeous. i want to read everything he’s ever written now.

i mean… come on:

‘“All right. I’m afraid of the rain because sometimes I see me dead in it.’

‘No.’

‘And sometimes I see you dead in it.’

[…]

She was crying. I comforted her and she stopped crying. But outside it kept on raining.”

the entirety of chapter 41 is some of the most heartbreaking shit ever written. you can tell hemingway rewrote it 29 times. i haven’t teared up over a book since s. e. hinton’s the outsiders. that final line gave me chills. just phenomenal

i’ve read some people say that the second half of this book is much duller and worse than the first half, and I could not agree less! second half is absolutely wonderful, brimming with enchanting prose and the modernist touches woolf is known for. first half is still good, but definitely overshadowed by the aforementioned. 

“(for it is a curious fact that though human beings have such imperfect means of communication, that they can only say ‘good to eat’ when they mean ‘beautiful’ and the other way about, they will yet endure ridicule and misunderstanding rather than keep any experience to themselves.)”

“…it is not articles by Nick Greene on John Donne nor eight-hour bills nor covenants nor factory acts that matter; it’s something useless, sudden, violent; something that costs a life; red, blue, purple; a spirit; a splash; like those hyacinths (she was passing a fine bed of them); free from taint, dependence, soilure of humanity or care for one’s kind; something rash, ridiculous, like my hyacinth, husband I mean, Bonthrop: that’s what it is — a toy boat on the Serpentine, ecstasy — it’s ecstasy that matters.”

this is probably the best book ever written holy fuck i want to reread this over and over and over. not a single word wasted. genuinely an untouchable masterpiece. everyone should read this.  can’t express my adoration for this in words