Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray

Vanity Fair is an exceedingly large book. It took me two weeks of diligent reading to get through it. While the book was entertaining at times, I could never bring myself to read it again. Granted, Thackeray had an open, engaging style of writing. But he was just too tedious, too often. The prose is incredibly detailed, and the text is riddled with references that are now relatively obscure.

Nevertheless, Thackeray was a very astute social observer, and he shows wisdom regarding propriety, duty, and social responsibility that I found remarkable for the thirty-something he was when he wrote the novel. I further appreciated his noble and respectful views toward genuine Christianity.

The most disappointing aspect of the book was the fulfillment of its subtitle: "A Novel Without A Hero." For me, the most gratifying part of reading a book, especially a long one, is becoming acquainted with a likable, intelligent protagonist whom I can follow some hundreds of pages with a vested interest in his well-being, and after seeing him to his happy ending, look back upon with fondness. But, of course, that is not the case here, as Thackeray reminds his reader throughout the novel. There is only the artful schemer Becky, the pathetically weak-minded Amelia, the proud and spoiled George and Rawdon, and the clumsy "spooney" Dobbin.

I know where Thackeray was going with this thing. The rigid hierarchies of his time were ridiculous, stifling, and ultimately unfulfilling, even for those on top. The love of money really is the root of all kinds of evil. Not everyone is what they seem to be. They are all excellent lessons. But perhaps 699 pages without a character to sympathize with was not the most effective way to get them across.

Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis

Babbitt, a middle-aged businessman, one day begins to ponder the meaning and purpose of his life. He is a successful real estate agent, but he wonders if there is more to life than making a profit, establishing oneself in society, and raising one's children properly, so that they can raise children properly, so that they can raise children properly. He travels and meets eccentric people, all in his quest to discover what it is all really about.

Christianity is derided throughout the book. Through a dead Presbyterian church, Christianity is ridiculed, belittled, and misrepresented. More's the pity. If Babbitt could have experienced the true version of it, he might have come back with something of substance.

Instead, Babbitt's conclusion involves the man giving his son permission to pursue the career of his choosing, rather than the one he had picked out for him. It is a worthy, if incomplete, end. Allowing one's children the ability to make their own paths in life is not everything, but perhaps it is a start.

Magnificent Obsession by Lloyd C. Douglas

This novel left me stymied. I could not determine whether it was sacrilegious or not. Its comments on Jesus, and the pivotal concept of the book for that matter, were quite confusing.

The main character discovers a way to harness energy from doing good deeds to enhance his personality and abilities. The process was not explained. All the main character did was some intropsection and he magically discovered an innovative surgery method. The connection with his good deeds was not clear. It was all very peculiar.

Apparently this mysterious process was how Jesus was able to perform His miracles. No position on His divinity was established, so the extent of the heresy was hard to see. The concept of God was even more obscure. A conversation with an agnostic minister gives only the experience of the main character duirng his introspective times as evidence for a higher power. Considering the book was written by a minister, it is a pathetic theology at best.

The romantic elements, too, were unsatisfactory. The condition of the characters' relationship was up in the air most of the time, and the plot relied too heavily on coincidences to bring the two together. A lot of the book was extraneous and slow. It was a very strange work.

The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy

A friend of mine attending a Baptist school mentioned her class was reading The Scarlet Pimpernel, so I decided to check it out, though I did so with a bit of trepidation. The last book introduced to me in such a manner was Silas Marner, and I did not relish embarking again on something similar to that. Happily, though, I discovered in Pimpernel a mildly entertaining bit of British-French historical romance written with a 20th-century sensibility.

The book is fairly fast-paced, with the plot's events limited to about a week's time. Briefly, a French girl is forced by blackmail to endeavor to find the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel, a Briton who has been sneaking into revolutionary France to save aristocrats from the guillotine. She discovers the Pimpernel is none other than her boring, shallow husband whom she resents. He is in France rescuing people, unaware of the betrayal, so she rushes off there to save him, falling in love with him along the way.

The novel featured sufficient twists and turns, and the prose was pleasantly concise. The characters were well-wrought, and the story wasn't hindered by background or extraneous plotlines. Altogether, an excellent effort.

The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams

Once again, my frustration with the stage medium hindered my experience. I simply cannot read a play silently and enjoy it. The Glass Menagerie was short enough for me to complete during one of my sisters' basketball games, and I think the game alone would have been more engaging, which is saying a lot, because I abhor organized sports.

A young man narrates an account of an evening with his mother, sister, and friend from work. The mother has been contriving to get her delicate, homebound daughter a boyfriend, and she finally gets her son to take a friend home for dinner to meet her. The unaware friend talks with the young girl for an evening, capturing her emotions, before mentioning that he is engaged to another. He leaves, and the girl is heartbroken.

The storyline was pathetic and sad, but I am sure that is what Williams was going for. From what I have read, the play was based on Williams' relationship with his sister. How sad that these characters existed in real life. I could hardly stand to encounter them on the printed page.

The Princess Bride by William Goldman

I am really, really gullible. I actually believed Goldman until the last page. A hint of scepticism lingered when I had finshed the book, and a quick glance at Wikipedia turned my cheeks red with the realization that I had been suckered in.

I suppose that is a testament to the believability of Goldman's prose. The Princess Bride begins with the narrator explaining how his dad had read this book from his native land to him when he was younger. The narrator grew up, read the book himself, and discovered his father had skipped over all the boring parts of the story. So, to make the book more accessible to readers, he abridged the original, and presented it in this volume.

The novel's plot, interwoven with the narrator's comments and asides, follows Buttercup, the most beautiful girl in Florin, some perhaps medieval kingdom, as she loves and loses, loves and loses again, and finally just loves. It is wildly imaginative and ridiculous, completely hilarious from beginning to end. The action and romance never flag; the story has an entirely modern sensibility.If you've ever seen the movie, the book is exactly like it, but more.

The author totally had me from beginning to end. He affirmed that Florin was a real place; he had been there, met Stephen King's Florinese cousins (that should have tipped me off right there), etc. It all sounded so real.

But, of course, an Internet search amended that. Turns out a florin is just a unit of currency. The narrator's life was completely fabricated. Goldman doesn't have a detached son named Jason. He has two daughters, and he wrote the story because one wanted a bedtime tale about a princess, and the other wanted one about a bride. Voila- The Princess Bride.

1984 by George Orwell

The afterword of this book said that a smug person would think that 1984 was merely a Stalinist projection, but that in fact the novel has bearing on us all today.

I'd like to qualify that statement. 1984 seemed entirely Communistic, an obvious response on Orwell's part to the world events surrounding him during his lifetime. However, the book still has applications because Communism has not been entirely obliterated. In fact, I believe there are vestiges of it within American politics today.

The fundamental problem with the 1984 scenario is the complete dismissal of God. In the Orwellian future, "God is power," and nothing else. As if God were merely a metaphor!

Obviously, Orwell's book has had lasting reverberations throughout culture. His newspeak and doublespeak were some of the most prophetic creations in the novel, for the English language continues to degenerate, and the completely offenceless vocabulary does not seem so far off.

Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw

I had to look up the title to understand the mythological allusion. A man sculpts a girl, and she is given life by the gods. In the same way, Henry Higgins plucks Eliza Doolittle off the street and gives her a new life as a lady of society. Excellent, Mr. Shaw.

When I first read the play, I was shocked by its brevity. Where was the story? I thought. But, over time, I have come to realize that the stage is a far different medium that that of the conventional novel page. Only the core action can be portrayed in the limited time a play is allowed, and so many of the fascinating encounters sure to appear in a lengthier form of a story must be cut for time's sake. I can accept that.

The story was truly a great concept. I was enraptured with the linguistic content. Do our words really contain that many discernible sounds? Letting Higgins remain a bachelor was a wonderful touch. It was completely unexpected, and entirely appropriate.

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

I once came across a Christian website entitled, "The Phantom Tollbooth." Naturally, my curiousity was piqued. Assuming it had something to do with the Phantom of the Opera, I dismissed the subject until I encountered this book.

After catching the title in The Thomas Jefferson Education, an instructional manual showing homeschoolers how to educate with a literature-based curriculum, I decided The Phantom Tollbooth would be worth my while.

Altogether, I think I missed the age window of maximum enjoyment. I believe I am actually too old for something. The adventure happened far too quickly, and I think my marathon period-romance efforts have conditioned me to expect scores of pages before the pace picks up. The Tollbooth was a moderately witty book, but the real wit gets lost in synthetic witticisms that feel like imitations of the truly funny stuff.

I didn't feel as if I got to know the characters. We parted ways before any friendship could be established. Nevertheless, it was a great concept. Perhaps for younger readers who might pick it up, it will seem extraordinary and new. For me, I kept thinking I'd read something just like it before. Still, I can imagine a younger me thinking I'd stumbled onto some wonderfully original story.

Truly, there is a need for witty writing in children's literature. The Tollbooth might help to fill the void, but I cannot really say, for I am no longer the target demographic.

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn

I really liked the title, I have to say. And the format, over a hundred pages without a chapter break, was a bit tedious, but very suited to the task at hand. I'm slightly desensitized to prison camp material after years of The Diary of Anne Frank, Night, and similar stuff, but I could still find appreciation for Solzhenitsyn's account from the bottom of my complacent, naive, suburban heart.

The book did feel rehashed to me, but I have to commend Solzhenitsyn for such an innovative style. It is not easy to make a novel one day long both engaging and plausible. The story follows the main character from sunrise to sundown, chronicling his meagre meals, his never-ending workload, and the desperate maneuvers he went through every day to just survive.

The Communist Russians bore a striking resemblance to the Nazis. Their basic tactics were the same: starve and deprive the prisoners so that they are too weak to escape or revolt, but still able to work. Ruthless and sadistic, but efficient.

Lord of the Flies by William Golding

Surprisingly, Lord of the Flies was not quite as violent and sick as I expected it to be. I'd heard it was nausea-inducing. But, I mean, only two kids died.

That last comment would be a joke. I promise, I'm pro-life. In every sense of the phrase.

Anyways, Golding was a rather well-paced storyteller. The action meandered some, but not too much. The symbolism was somewhat oppressive, but I suppose it is all part and parcel of such a study of the human condition.

I enjoyed the character of Simon. Rational prophet-types are always fun.

I believe I caught the author's drift- we're all just a plane crash away from complete barbarism. It is a fascinating point to make, and one I would adhere to, for its biblical elements if nothing else. If man is, in fact, inherently sinful, then of course taking him out of society, a policed environment, would allow his true nature to show through. Well done, Golding.

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

I have an admission to make. I hate stream-of-consciousness writing. And, I think it is incredibly annoying when a novel's narrators are switched every chapter. And, I could not care less about the sordid lives of backwoods hicks. And, I absolutely abhor their speech patterns.

So I guess from the outset this book did not have much going for it. What happens? A Southern matriarch dies. As she had expressed a desire to be buried in her hometown, the family uses everything they have to get her body there. Unfortunately, they fall apart, literally and figuratively, along the way.

One son is sent to an asylum. Another has to sell the love of his life, his prized horse. Another damages his leg permanently. Another thinks his mom turned into a fish after dying. The daughter finds out she is pregnant, out of wedlock. The father is selfish and oblivious. The book concludes with his second wedding, the day his deceased wife is buried.

To top it all off, the mother rots away in her traveling coffin for most of the story. Faulkner, from what I understand, had a deep fascination for the people of the South. Why he should construct such an unflattering testament to their depravity is slightly confusing. I suppose he was only trying to present life as it is, as any good author should strive to do.

The Awakening by Kate Chopin

Edna Pontillier feels fettered by her husband and her life, so she explores more unconventional avenues of expression, from art to other men, before committing suicide.

The Awakening was a sorry state of affairs, or almost-affairs, if you will. Ms. Pontillier was trying desperately to break out of her perceived bonds. What was wrong with this woman's life? Perfect husband, perfect children, perfect mansion, perfect vacations, free range to while away her time pointlessly. What is so oppressive about that?

It seems as if all Edna wanted was unrealistic, clandestine, overtly passionate, unlawful romance. She just couldn't control the desires common to all people. And in the end she realized she didn't even know what she wanted, or what would bring her fulfillment. Did she stop, reflect, repent, and carry on with a new resolve to live purposefully? No. She killed herself. Personally, I think that was just an easy way for Chopin to finish the book. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise- suicide is a plot cop-out.