Britt-Marie Was Here Book Review

When an author achieves success, they sometimes repeat the same formula to capture lightning in a bottle twice. Personally, I don’t have a problem with this as long as the book is still compelling in other ways. This was the case when I read Britt-Marie Was Here by Fredrik Backman – his third novel. It takes what made A Man Called Ove work and applies to another interesting curmudgeon.

Britt-Marie Was Here is about a socially awkward, fussy busybody woman who has more imagination, bigger aspirations, and a warmer heart than anybody realizes. When she leaves her cheating husband, Britt-Marie finds herself in the town of Borg – a place where everything is closed except for a few places and a road. She becomes the caretaker of the soon-to-be-demolished recreation center. Eventually, she gets to know the various characters in the town like the citizens, miscreants, drunks, and layabouts. Surprisingly, she’s given the task to lead the fairly untalented children’s soccer team to victory. In a town full of misfits, will Britt-Marie find a place where she truly belongs?

For those who have read My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry, one may recognize Britt-Marie as the naggy woman who loves order and routine in the apartment building Elsa lives in. While the events of Britt-Marie Was Here occur after the ones from the former, the latter is more of a stand alone novel than a sequel.

As I mentioned early, Backman translates the core structure of A Man Called Ove to Britt-Marie Was Here. This includes a character study on a stubborn, possibly OCD older protagonist, who interacts with a colorful cast of characters that help them change for the better as well as their backstories being revealed through stream-of-consciousness. I can understand why he would do this since that framework worked the first time. However, since the follow-up was My Grandmother, which had a different formula, I was under the impression that maybe he would do something distinct from those novels. At the same time, Britt-Marie is a multifaceted character in her own way that I can overlook the retread.

Even though Backman provided a backstory for Britt-Marie in My Grandmother, he dives even deeper in Britt-Marie Was Here. Granted, to an outsider, Britt-Marie is still a nag-bag, but she slowly becomes more open, flexible, and independent as she continues to live in Borg. She even reveals more of her life with how invisible she felt by her parents after her sister died; how ungratefully she was treated by her ex-husband, especially how he never put his shirts in the washer; and how much denial she was in when the affairs were going on. Seeing Britt-Marie grow and realize how grateful the Borg residents are to her throughout the novel are the greatest satisfactions that the book gives because she definitely deserves to become the person she wants to be and the respect she gets. Although there’s not a whole lot of story, Britt-Marie is such a compelling character that I’m willing to look past that.

Additionally, like A Man Called Ove, despite the sadness, Backman still infuses humor to the situation. When Britt-Marie first arrives at the recreation center, she gets hit on the head with a soccer ball (uh, I mean football). Talk about first impressions, eh? Scenes like that one help to keep the lightness of the story.

Joan Walker narrates a Fredrik Backman audiobook once again. She brings an austere, but vulnerable vibe to Britt-Marie. Her foreign characters have vague, but appropriate accents. The volume issue that I mentioned in my review of My Grandmother is not as prevalent, but Walker has a tendency to voice the teens as younger than they should be. This is a disappointment, for she voiced Elsa – the 7-year-old in My Grandmother – perfectly. 

All in all, Britt-Marie Was Here by Fredrik Backman is a good novel by an author who’s repeating a formula that worked for him before. To some readers who’ve read his other novels, it may seem like a disappointment. To others, it’s still satisfying because the titular character is so memorable. I would recommend it to those who love Fredrik Backman and reading stories about characters who realize their full potential. Once someone reads it, they’ll remember Britt-Marie for a very long time.

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What Am I Reading – Chapter Forty

Hi Everyone!

I hope you all had a great Halloween! I sure did with seeing all the kids trick-or-treating in my neighborhood! I still have plenty of candy leftover.

I can’t believe that I’ve been doing this for 40 chapters! Before you know it, it’s going to be 50! I’ll have something planned for the latter!

In the meantime, I’ve been finishing plenty of books. I’m still reading The Number Ones by Tom Breihan, and I started two new books recently that I’d love to show you. You’ll see that these have something fascinating in common.

Let’s begin with our first title!

The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek by Kim Michele Richardson is about 19-year-old Cussy Carter – the last living female of the Blue People ancestry – who lives in Kentucky. In 1936, the lonely young Appalachian woman joins the historical Pack Horse Library Project of Kentucky and becomes a librarian. She rides across slippery creek beds and up treacherous mountains with her faithful mule Junia to deliver books and other reading material to those most in need in Eastern Kentucky. To the mountain folk, Cussy becomes known as “Bluet.” She confronts those suspicious of her blue skin and of the unique government program as well as befriends a cast of colorful (no pun intended) characters. Cussy is determined to bring comfort and joy, instill literacy, and give those who have nothing something that will take them to faraway lands.

This book is loosely based on the Blue Fugates – a family who were known to carry a genetic trait that led to the blood disorder methemoglobinemia, causing skin to appear blue. I never knew about this family nor about the aforementioned condition. So far, the novel itself doesn’t divulge into the medical history, for it’s more focused on how Cussy deals with prejudice and how she proves she’s a worthy member of society despite the unusual skin color.

At the same time, I knew about the Pack Horse Library Project of Kentucky that the Franklin Delano Roosevelt administration set up prior to reading this book. Not only did they allowed the less fortunate to obtain books and other reading materials, but they also provided jobs for women in the area. The back of the novel explains more of the history of this highly unique program, which is always necessary whenever an obscure event or organization is discussed in historical fiction.

I will automatically like any main character that’s a librarian, but Cussy is more than that. She’s willing to do anything for her patrons even if that means traveling through the toughest terrain that Eastern Kentucky has to offer. And yet, she’s a gentle and empathetic soul. The book can be a little too melodramatic in showing her struggles (ie her getting rapped by her now-dead husband and latter attacked by his perverted priest cousin), but it retains the emphasis on her survival as opposed to her suffering.

I’m curious to how the rest of The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek unfolds!

And now, here’s the second and final book in this chapter!

The Last White Man by Mohsin Hamid is a title that challenges readers to reimagine who they think they are in the future, and how they can come together. One day, Anders – a white man – wakes up to find that his skin has turned dark. At first, he tells only Oona – a friend turned lover. But soon, similar occurrences are reported across the country. Some find this to be the long-dreaded overturning of the established order, to be resisted until the end. To others like Ander’s father and Oona’s mother, it’s a sense of profound loss with profound love. As the bond between Anders and Oona deepens, it brings out a chance to see others, face to face anew.

Now, one may be wondering, “Emily, why are you reading this?”

Well, part of it is to get revenge on the television host who’s been espousing the Great Replacement Theory recently. I knew more of the plot after hearing that person talk about on their show one day. The other reason is that Lit Hub promoted the novel a lot when it initially came out, and I really liked the cover. It’s eye-catching (no pun intended).

I’ve only read about 50 pages so far, and I find the concept wholly unique. I don’t think I’ve read a book that involves white people having their skins turn dark. I’m sure there are horror and science fiction novels that deal with that scenario, yet I’ve never seen it play out in contemporary literature. Yes, there’s also the musical Finian’s Rainbow, in which one character – a U.S. Senator – turns black in order to learn the lesson of becoming a better person by not being a bigot (spoilers: he gets turned back to white at the end of the show). But in the case of The Last White Man, it’s not interested in telling people that prejudice is bad. In fact, Anders’s skin turns dark right on the first page prior to the readers knowing anything about him except being white.

Instead, it seems to be more fascinated with how this change will affect society as a whole, specifically how one navigates having dark skin and the perceptions associated with it. So far, no explanation has been given to why white people like Anders are developing brown and black skin, and it doesn’t seem like there will be nor does it imply will they return to their original “color.” This is a more reinvigorating take than “discrimination = bad.”

So far, I have one complaint about the novel: the run-on sentences. This is the first book that I’ve read from Mohsin Hamid, so I don’t know if this is a common thing in his work. With that being said, one sentence makes up one paragraph, and it can be very long. I wanted to see a period somewhere instead a bunch of commas. We’ll see how long I tolerate that aspect.

I look forward to reading the rest of this novel to see where this unique concept goes!

We have now come to the end of the fortieth chapter of “What Am I Reading?”

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The Outsider Book Review

Since today is Halloween, it’s inevitable that I will once again look at a book by Stephen King. This time, it’s his 2018 novel The Outsider. The best way that I can describe it is what if King wrote a 15-part episode of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, Monk, and The X-Files in that order. Not all of it works, but it’s still a good read.

The Outsider asks the question, “What if someone was in two places at the same time?” In the town of Flint City, Oklahoma, an 11-year-old boy is found dead in the park. Eyewitnesses and fingerprints all point to one prominent figure: Terry Maitland – Little League Coach, English teacher, husband, and father of two girls. Detective Ralph Anderson, whose son was once coached by Maitland, orders a quick and public arrest. Maitland has an alibi, but Anderson and the district attorney have DNA evidence to back up their claims. The case seems ironclad, but as investigation continues, horrifying answers begin to emerge. In addition, what seems impossible is not quite so. Was Terry the real culprit, or was it someone else who looked exactly like him?

Let’s start off with the Law and Order: SUV part. The summary basically describes an episode of that series. In fact, I even imagined Ralph to be similar to Elliot Stabler in terms of temperament and impulse. The novel handles much of the investigation as one would if they watched a bunch of law shows. For example, in real life, no one from the force would arrest someone in public before all of the evidence was gathered and analyzed. Granted, Ralph does eventually regret that decision, but I feel that was done to get the initial plot going. In addition, the first third of the book focuses on every single detail of the investigation. So much so that the pacing slows down. This is highly evident in the scenes involving the interviews. It only gets interesting again when there’s an incident involving Terry and the victim’s older brother at the courthouse. Let’s just say that it’s similar to that of The Survivors Club by Lisa Gardner. Finally, sections involving how the media coverage affects the investigation as well as Terry’s wife and daughters were very intriguing. If this were solely a Law and Order: SUV episode, King could’ve spent more time focusing on how the media influences a verdict even when not all the evidence is available and analyzed, and it would’ve been fascinating. But, he didn’t because he wanted to introduce a character from a previous series and some supernatural elements.

Speaking of that person, let’s talk about Holly Gibney. She may possibly have OCD, is obsessed with movies, and has very specific ways of doing things. Despite her flaws, her attention to detail and ability to leave no stone unturned are her greatest assets. In other words, she’s a female version of the titular detective from Monk. Holly comes in around the halfway point, which is about 300-400 pages in the story, after Ralph discovers that there was a similar assault/murder in Dayton, Ohio. She was previously in the Bill Hodges trilogy, and The Outsider is the first book in her own series. I’ve not read any other King book besides Rose Madder, so this was my introduction to her. Readers like myself who haven’t read the Bill Hodges series might not quite understand the hints to her backstory, while for those who have, they will probably be delighted with the callbacks. As for Holly herself, some people might find her to be two-dimensional, mainly defined by her quirks, and annoying after a while. I personally didn’t find her that way because she reminds me of me in a variety of ways. Sometimes, the strongest and bravest people are the ones that people least expect, and that’s what Holly represents. I also liked the rapport between her and Ralph as the investigation went on.

Finally, let’s talk about The X-Files section. Like with Holly, this gets introduced at roughly the halfway point of the story. This would’ve been stronger if the supernatural elements came in much earlier in the story since this plays an important role. I get that the book’s cover is supposed to suggest a creature beyond our normal understanding will grace the pages, yet it should’ve factored into the plot more than it already does. I won’t tell you what it is (readers will have to find this out for themselves), but I will say that all it took to destroy it was a blackjack hidden in a sock. This might sound cool, but after a long conversation between Ralph and the creature and how the former shouldn’t kill the latter made the climax underwhelming. In addition, the monster and what happened to it was simply creepy. It didn’t scare me at all. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me, yet this is written Stephen King of all people. He has scared people and put them in terrifying situations while reading his books. I felt that way while reading Rose Madder, but not here. Maybe if the creature arrived much earlier in the novel, then maybe I would’ve felt more unsettled. It doesn’t help that Ralph has nightmares about the monster after all was said and done in the many endings that rival that of The Return of the King. This plot is already insane by having the supernatural element there in the first place. King could’ve gone further by incorporating that aspect more.

As for Stephen King’s overall writing style, it’s what one expects from his work. However, I got annoyed after he mentions the same descriptions over and over again. For example, King describes district attorney Bill Samuels with a cowlick similar to that of Alfalfa’s from The Little Rascals. At first, this was amusing. Then, it became cute. After that, I was shouting, “Ok, I get it!”

Furthermore, King adds some weird details in this book. This is especially true when he mentions Holly’s small breasts and Jeanie’s – Ralph’s wife – nipples in parts I least expected. They simply took me out of the story.

Will Patton narrates the audiobook. He has appeared in films like Remember the Titans and Armageddon as well as television shows like Yellowstone. Additionally, he has recorded several audiobooks for books like Killers of the Flower Moon and for authors like James Lee Burke and, yes, Stephen King. In fact, Patton has done the Bill Hodges trilogy as well as the second title in the Holly Gibney one If It Bleeds. His performance was full of strong choices even if there were some misses. He gives Ralph determination, which can be impulsive at times, while he provides Holly a mousy-like voice along with strange inflections. My personal favorite was his readings as Luvie Bolton. He gives her a big, but strained voice that one could recognize miles away. This interpretation perfectly aligns with the minor character as she, in her declining health, carries an oxygen tank with her at all times. I also want to add that Patton does a great job staying in character even when he’s not reading dialogue. This is most apparent when Jeanie first encounters the outsider.

There are only two things that I had to complain about. One of them is that his Mexican characters tended to sound stereotypical. I say this even though there’s an effective bit in the book, where the characters watch a Mexican movie with Speedy Gonzales-like English dubbing. The other is that I had to adjust the volume so many times in order to hear what Patton was saying as well as prevent my ears from getting blown off. He gets very quiet in certain places and then becomes loud in a matter of seconds. I had a similar issue with Eric Idle’s performance in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory audiobook.

In summary, The Outsider is a bloated, but interesting book in Stephen King’s body of work. The novel would’ve been better if he had picked one or two ideas at most and run with those as opposed to trying to incorporate three of them at the same time. On the other hand, in true King fashion, it’s so insane that it kept my interest going until the very end. I would recommend it to those who are already Stephen King fans as well as for those who love horror, supernatural elements, and reading about murder investigations. Although it’s not among his classics, it’s definitely worth checking out.

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The Night Circus Book Review

Have you ever read something that was so enchanting and baffling that you needed some time to think about it? That recently happened to me when I finished The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. At first, I wasn’t sure what to think about it. Now, I realize that it’s full of wonder and enhancement, but I wish I cared about it more.

The Night Circus is about many things. First and foremost, it centers on the titular object that arrives without warning. Called Le Cirque des Rêves (or The Circus of Dreams), it contains black-and-white canvas tents and breathtaking amazements, yet it’s only open at night. Behind the scenes, there’s a fierce competition between two young magicians named Celia and Marco. They’ve been training for this purpose since they were young and by their mercurial instructors, but unbeknownst to them, only one can be left standing. Things get complicated when they fall in love. However, the game must play out, and everyones’ fates from the performers to the patrons hang in the balance.

Morgenstern apparently wrote this novel over three years during National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo), and I can tell. This book has a non-linear structure, for it tends to jump around in the timeline. Some people may be irritated by this, but I was fine with it since the novel’s subject is about something that’s unique and follows its own set of rules like how the developers don’t age. Hence, its structure does the same.

Speaking of unique things, the world-building of the circus was exquisite. From the moment the circus first arrives, readers are immediately taken into its multiple tents, how it’s only open from sunset to sunrise, and how it only contains performers that can’t be found anywhere else. I could easily understand why it would have people following it all the time and why the book is being made into a movie at this time (even though no new information about the adaptation has arrived since 2019). And of course, more mysterious things associated with the circus reveal themselves as the novel progresses. The descriptions of the various elements including the physical circus itself were impeccable. I could easily imagine a lot of things from the black and white tents to how the characters look. I’m going to be honest. In my mind, Widget and Poppet – the Murray twins – looked like Ron Weasley. It works in mysterious ways.

I liked the characters. All of them have their own backstories and defined personalities. On the other hand, much like the movie Dunkirk, the book doesn’t spend much time with each character before moving on to another, yet it comes back to them eventually. However, as the book progressed, I couldn’t get myself emotionally attached to them until the very end. Part of this is because the novel is written in third person, which basically contains a narrator, who’s completely detached from the story, telling it.

Another thing is that the plot gets confusing towards the end. I understand that Marco and Celia want to be together despite the competition forcing them apart, but how did they defy the odds? What made them vanish? Also, who put out that bonfire? I guess it’s something that I have to reread in the future.

Jim Dale narrates the audiobook. For those who don’t know him and/or haven’t read the Harry Potter audiobooks, Dale is a world renown actor, composer, director, and singer, songwriter, narrator. He’s won a Tony for his role in the musical Barnum and several Audie awards for various audiobooks like Peter and the Star Catchers and the aforementioned Harry Potter series. He’s even been nominated for an Oscar for the title song for the movie Georgy Girl (he wrote the lyrics). In other words, he’s a big deal.

Now, you’re probably wondering how he’s narrating The Night Circus. He’s good. He makes his characters distinct with little touches. For example, Celia’s instructor and father Hector Bowen displays eccentricity and a slight Northern English accent, while Chandresh Christopher Lefèvre – the owner of Le Cirque des Rêves has a similar vibe but with a more posh voice. He also narrates Poppet and Widget with well-articulated Scottish accents. The main complaint I have with his performance is that he makes the younger characters sound too old. For example, when readers first encounter a 19-year-old Marco, Dale makes him sound like at least 20 years older. Of course, as Marco gets older, the voicing makes more sense. 

All in all, The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern is a unique magic realism novel. Its world-building and the characters are well defined. On the other hand, the third-person point of view made it a little hard for me to be fully emotionally invested in the story, and the plot could be confusing if one doesn’t pay full attention. I would recommend it to those who like magic realism as well as reading about circuses and forbidden love. I wonder how the movie will translate the novel to the screen if it ever gets there. We’ll see how that goes.

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What Am I Reading – Chapter Thirty-Nine

Hi Everybody!

I hope everyone’s having a great October so far. I sure have! My job as an archivist will become permanent very soon. I’m also getting my cosplay ready for Youmacon! Even though I have a lot on my plate, I still managed to find time to read some new books. They are some pretty darn good books that I’d love to show you right now!

Let’s begin with the first title!

The Sentence by Louise Erdrich asks what we owe to the living, the dead, to the reader, and to the book. A small independent bookstore in Minneapolis gets haunted by the shop’s most annoying customer from November 2019 to November 2020. Tookie – an Ojibwe woman who landed a job at the store after spending 7 years behind bars that she survived through lots of reading – must solves this mystery while trying to understand all that occurs in that city during a year of grief, astonishment, isolation, and reckoning.

So far, I think it’s good, but I’m not sure what to fully think of it. In fact, I had a hard time summarizing the plot, for there’s nothing and everything happening at the same time. That’s why I used quite a bit from official description.

Here’s where I will start. Tookie is a flawed, but fascinating character. She’s quick to judge, and some characters see her as too snarky, impulsive, and overprotective. At the same time, she can be funny and brutally honest. I especially love how she critiques the book title trends in recent years. I can understand where she’s coming from, yet I’ve done face palms after reading about some of the things that she did.

Additionally, there’s a lot going on in this book, and I’m not even halfway through it. So far, it’s a ghost story and a reckoning on Native American identity through the eyes of an indigenous woman who doesn’t even know her own real name. And, I haven’t even got into the pandemic portion of the book, but once I do, I will have some thoughts.

Louise Erdrich not only wrote the novel, but also narrated the audiobook. She has recorded audiobooks for 5 of her novels including The Sentence and her award-winning book The Night Watchman. I can see why she would want to narrate herself. Tookie could become an unlikeable character if voiced by the wrong actor. Erdrich balances Tookie’s snark and sincerity, especially when the character upsets her niece Hedda after she asks about the father of the latter’s child. Although the other people in the story don’t have much vocal distinctions, Erdrich makes them sound real as if one has met them in real life.

Even though I’m not entirely sure what to think of The Sentence so far, I’m intrigued and look forward to seeing how the plot unfolds.

And now, here’s the second and final book in this chapter!

The Number Ones: Twenty Chart-Topping Hits That Reveal the History of Pop Music by Tom Breihan is exactly what it sounds like. Breihan has analyzed every number one hit on the Billboard Hot 100 since its current inception in 1958 in his “The Number Ones” column on Stereogum, and he’s still in the early 2000s. In this book, he takes 20 of the songs that hit number one on that specific chart and reveals how significant they were in shaping music trends. He looks at the historical context surrounding them and how they played a pivotal role in chart history. Breihan features the greatest pop artists of all time like The Beatles, Michael Jackson, and Prince, and he gives musicians who never hit #1 like Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, and James Brown their due as well.

Long story short: when I was working as an Adult Librarian in Clarkston, Michigan, I was in charge of maintaining the music CD collection. This meant adding items to and removing them from the shelves as well as keeping up to date on the latest music news. One day, while I was looking at the news for the day, I came across “The Number Ones” column as Breihan took a look at Paul Anka’s 1974 number 1 song “You’re Having My Baby” (that’s not one of the songs analyzed in The Number Ones book). After reading his snark-filled, but fully analyzed review of the ditty, I knew I had to read more.

This is all to say that I’ve been a fan of Breihan’s column for a few years, and when he announced that he was going to put out a book about the 20 most important #1 hits on the Hot 100, I knew I had to read it. I was so determined that I managed to obtain an advanced reader’s copy, for the book will be out on November 15.

So, what I feel about it so far? It’s pretty good. He leaves no stone unturned when analyzing these tunes, even when they are seeped in controversy. For example, the success of “The Twist” by Chubby Checkers mainly came by because its presentation had be diluted enough for a white audience in the early 1960s. In addition, the tone, in which he writes this book, is similar to that of the column, which is filled with snark and deep love for pop music.

I can’t wait to read more of The Number Ones: Twenty Chart-Topping Hits That Reveal the History of Pop Music very soon!

We have now come to the end of the thirty-ninth chapter of “What Am I Reading?”

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Hour of the Witch Book Review

Content warning: this book review will discuss domestic abuse, sexism, and briefly suicide.

There are certain books that might not sit right with readers for a variety of reasons. They may be tough to get through but are worth it in the end. I encountered a novel like this after reading Hour of the Witch by Chris Bohjalian because it deals with domestic abuse, sexism, and lots of exposition. It took a lot of patience, yet reader, it was rewarding.

Hour of the Witch is about a young Puritan woman who’s trying to leave her cruel husband. Mary Deerfield is 24 years old and beautiful. In England, she would’ve gotten a lot of suitors, but in the New World (specifically 1662 Boston), she’s the second wife of Thomas Deerfield – an abusive and powerful man. When Thomas, prone to drunken rage, purposely drives a three-tined fork into the back of Mary’s hand, she believes that enough is enough and that she must divorce him to save her life. However, in a world where every neighbor is watching for signs of the devil, a woman like Mary – a woman who harbors secret desires and finds it difficult to tolerate the hypocrisy of so many men in the colony – soon finds herself the object of suspicion and rumor. When tainted objects are discovered buried in the ground, when a boy whom Mary has been treating with herbs and simple dies, and when the boy’s sister – a servant in the Deerfield household – runs out of the home screaming, Mary must not only escape her marriage, but also the gallows.

Hour of the Witch is the third Chris Bojhalian novel that I’ve read, and I think it’s his best one so far. While other books – The Flight Attendant and Secrets of Eden – have their advantages, this one has the highest of the highs, while having the fewest issues.

Much like Bohjalian’s other female protagonists, Mary is a three-dimensional character with desires, but she is forced by the Puritan society to maintain her duty as a wife despite the circumstances. In a way, Mary reminds me of Cassie from The Flight Attendant. Even though Mary is a more respectable person, both are trying to clear their names from crimes they didn’t commit. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bohjalian made that decision after the success of the first season of The Flight Attendant television show.

In addition, I enjoyed the world building. Since the book takes place in the Puritan Massachusetts colony, it constantly reminds readers of the values that they held dear as a community like moral and religious earnestness as well as predestination. This context aids them in understanding why the characters would’ve had major concerns over Mary’s attempt to divorce her husband. It doesn’t help that accusations of witchcraft were becoming prevalent when the novel began. The language was developed too as it uses a lot of the phrases, which would’ve been common during that time like the “thee,” “thou,” “helpmeet,” and “white meat” (the latter as an insult for being stupid) even though I was taken out of it when one of the magistrates said, “Thou art serious?” 

Bohjalian characterizes this historical period so thoroughly that readers can easily understand why certain characters would think Mary is a witch. People were already suspicious of her because she was barren, and she was part of an influential family in Boston. Her father shipped goods from the Old World to the New one and vice versa and personally knew one of the magistrates.

Many reviewers have noted that the first half of the book is slow. I noticed this too as well as how it’s structured like the Greek play Antigone by Sophocles. A good chunk of the first part involves a lot of exposition and the aforementioned world building. Then, after Mary leaves her husband, a bunch of people come to her parents’ home and beg her to reconsider. This reminded me of how the characters in Antigone like the advisors and the son Haemon tell Creon that he should change his mind and bury Antigone’s brother Polynices who fought against Thebes. 

After her divorce petition was denied, Mary decides to take the matter into her own hands before it’s too late. This is where the book picks up because there were  many options of what could happen. During the second half, I knew certain things would occur, but some caught me off guard. Readers will have to be patient while going through it, for this is one aspect that makes the book worth it.

Another thing that readers will need to know before picking up this title is that there’s a handful of instances of domestic abuse. Many of these involve Thomas – Mary’s husband – insulting and inflicting harsh punishment onto her. These were hard to get through, for I’m not a fan of so much abuse in one novel. I can handle books and movies that have that one scene, but much more of similar intensity can be too much for me. Moreover, that can cross the line into suffering for suffering’s sake as well as torture porn easily. However, Bojhalian always focuses on what Mary’s feeling in those moments and finding her strength to carry on. This is not surprising since he dealt with that same topic in Secrets of Eden with nuance, especially with why the wife went back to her abusive husband after having a restraining order on him. Hour of the Witch does go into Mary’s suffering for a brief time as she contemplates suicide, yet after receiving a message in the hearth, she resolves herself to take control of the situation and seek a way to leave her cruel husband.

Additionally, the novel made me feel a bunch of emotions, mainly angry, since it tackles domestic abuse as well as sexism. The magistrates’ logic on how one could be a witch during Mary’s trial was so absurd that I was ready to punch a good majority of them. (Side note: making the youngest magistrate the misogynistic one is a splendid touch.) I wanted to do the same thing to the authorities who didn’t take the female characters’ testimonies seriously. Of course, Bohjalian did this on purpose because he knew a contemporary audience would most likely react the same way I did. He acknowledges this usually with Mary saying something like, “This is absurd!”

Luckily, if I ever felt mad after listening to sections of Hour of the Witch, I could watch this wonderful documentary on a witch trial.

In addition, the book has one of the most satisfying endings that I’ve ever read. All I will say is that if one has doubts on continuing with this novel, keep going, it’s worth it all the way.

I listened to the audiobook, and it’s one of those instances, in which I would recommend readers to look at the physical book. Grace Experience narrates it along with a full cast although the latter are relegated to reading official documents, and they do an effective job in embodying the main characters while sounding accurate to the Puritan era. That’s why I’m not listing everyone who’s on the audiobook. In addition, I don’t know if those records are real or made up for the story; I’ll have to do more research. 

Experience (Bohjalian’s daughter) needs no introduction as she did part of the narration for The Flight Attendant. She blends a contemporary and period voice well. At first, I wasn’t sure about this take because it felt a little too modern, but I realized that she’s portraying a third-person narrator. This gives more leeway in how she interprets the story. At the same time, a lot of the characters sound similar. It wasn’t to the point that I couldn’t identify which was which (no pun intended), yet it would’ve been a more effective performance had Experience did. Additionally, she eunicates stuff in a way that feels monotone. By herself, it’s not bad, but when I heard the other narrators read their small parts, there was more emotion in their voices. Even though it’s a solid performance, I simply wanted Experience to emote more to match what the characters, especially Mary, were going through.

All in all, Hour of the Witch by Chris Bohjalian is the best book that I’ve read from that author. The author does a great job with recreating the Puritan world through the language and embedding their values into the story. In addition, Mary Deerfield is another wonderful female protagonist who I rooted for throughout the novel. The novel rightfully made me angry about what she had to go through. I would recommend the physical book to those who like reading stories about witch trials, the Puritans, and how people get out of domestic abuse situations. Sometimes, a book is tough on purpose, so it’s good to be patient because it might be worth it.

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What Am I Reading – Chapter Thirty-Eight

Hi Everybody,

I hope all of you had a great Labor Day weekend and a wonderful September! I certainly did, especially with my birthday being last week! I made schnitzel and spaetzle as well as went to trivia!

Anyway, it’s been awhile since the last chapter, and I’ve also spent last month reading plenty of new books. I would like to share those titles with you, so let’s begin!

No Country for Old Gnomes by Delilah S. Dawson and Kevin Hearne is the second book in “The Tales of Pell” series. The Skyr is a rich land that’s claimed by both the halflings and the gnomes. For hundreds of years, the former has worked to undermine the power of the latter and seize total control through legal means and an underground criminal network. The gnomes are desperate and ready to fight back. A group of outcasts that contain creatures like halflings, gryphons, and the aforementioned gnomes go to Gustave the Goat King for help with the situation. Can he bring peace, or will this lead to a civil war in the kingdom?

It’s been awhile since I read the last book in the series Kill the Farm Boy. For those who haven’t read that review, I’ll summarize it now: While the title is instantly memorable, and there were parts that I liked, I felt that the book overall didn’t live it to its expectations.

I decided to read No Country for Old Gnomes because I’m a completist, and I like novels that pay homage to Monty Python.

What do I think of it so far? Well, it’s definitely better than the first one even though I don’t think No Country for Old Gnomes is as awesome of a title as Kill the Farm Boy, but I still like it. The elements that worked for me in the first book are present in the second one. These include the map of Pell, the quirky characters that range from a halfling who’s obsessed with his toes’ appearance to a gryphon who kills for omelets that band together to restore peace in Skyr, and the relationships that they have with each other. I genuinely like Agape – a half-human, half-sheep who can’t trust people outside of her Piini Automatti (a robot) and steals stuff – and Offi – a goth gnome who wants to be his own person outside of being compared to his more perfect twin brother Onni.

The things that didn’t work in Kill the Farm Boy are thankfully minimized (including the bodily function jokes). Although the pacing is a bit slow in the beginning, it does pick up when all the main characters meet each other. Occasionally, there are bits that do come off as “Ha ha ha, this is funny,” particularly in the prologue with the witches. At the same time, that’s more on me because my sense of humor tends to be more dry. A lot of the book leans more towards the witty end anyway.

Of course, I have to mention about the what the book is making fun of. The satire in No Country for Old Gnomes is a little more broader than in the first one since it focuses on prejudice and how ridiculous is it in a multitude of ways. The novel does a good job with establishing how a certain group behaves and presents themselves and then, contrasting that with their outcast main characters. In addition, it plays on audience’s expectations. There’s a great scene, in which a teen witch-gnome named Kirsi stops by a house made out of candy and gingerbread. I won’t spoil it; all I will say is that she encounters a witch that Hansel and Gretel would warn her to stay away from.

Overall, No Country for Old Gnomes is better written than Kill the Farm Boy, and I look forward to seeing the payoff.

Now, let’s look at the second and final novel of this chapter.

There There by Tommy Orange follows twelve people from various Native communities as they travel to the Big Oakland Powwow. They’re all connected in ways they may not yet realize. These voices tells the story of the urban Native American, grappling with its complex and painful history, beauty, spirituality, communion, sacrifice, and heroism.

I’ve read about a quarter of the novel so far, and I like it. Each chapter is devoted to one character and how they deal with being an urban Native American. All of them have their reasons for going to the powwow. However, it’s a little hard to connect to them since once I’m into one person, the book switches to another perspective. The one I gravitate to the most so far is Edwin Black – an overweight half-Native and half-white man who stills lives with his mom and has issues with her boyfriend. He wants to begin his life again by working and finding his biological Native father.

It moves kind of slow, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it picks up when the characters get more intertwined with each other. I look forward to seeing how There There unfolds.

We have now come to the end of the thirty-eighth chapter of “What Am I Reading?”

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The Fountainhead Movie Review

Content warning: Suicide and toxic relationships will be discussed in this review.

Whenever a film adaptation of a novel comes out, there will always be people who will say, “The book is better than the movie.”

For a lot of the time, that sentiment is true. However, there are instances in which people will assert that the film is better. Various outlets on the Internet have done many lists about this subject. Flicks that appear on them frequently are The Shining, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and Jaws. However, in today’s review, I’m going to discuss a movie that hasn’t shown up on the more recent lists, but I think it should be at least considered. That is the 1949 film adaptation of The Fountainhead starring Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal – a surprisingly well made, albeit imperfect, adaptation of the flawed novel of the same name by Ayn Rand.

For those who haven’t already read my review of the book, here’s my recap: even though I wasn’t a fan of the book and had issues with it, I could see the timelessness of it because it commits itself to the values of individualism wholeheartedly, and certain people will latch onto those ideals. 

The movie itself is a faithful adaptation of the divisive book. Many of the stuff that’s present in the novel made it into the film as mostly unaltered. This is so because Ayn Rand herself wrote the screenplay. Apparently, she had some previous experience in Hollywood as she worked as Junior Screenwriter for Cecile B. DeMille. As a result, there’s a sense that she knew that she couldn’t fit a 726-page book into a feature length movie, even though she wanted the speech that Howard Roark makes in court at the end to be in its entirety. The end result is about two hours. Many of the speeches, including the aforementioned one, are reduced. In addition, certain characters are reduced or expanded. Peter Keating’s presence is drastically decreased, while Gail Wynand is introduced much earlier in the movie than he is in the tome.

Other changes occurred due to the Production Code. One of them includes the marriages that Dominique Francon has with Peter and later with Gail. In the novel, she marries Peter first, divorces him, weds Gail, and Gail separates from her when the Cortlandt trial is going on. Since the Hays Office didn’t approve of divorce on screen, the film has Dominique already engaged to Peter in the beginning, and then Gail convinces him to break that off, so he could marry her. Then, at the end, when Gail loses everything with “The Banner,” he takes his own life (note: this shows up almost out of nowhere in the movie, but in the novel, his character introduction literally has the news mogul contemplating whether or not he wants to end his life).

The other major change brought on by the Production Code has to do with the rape scene in the book. The Hays Office was apparently concerned with people getting away with crimes, but the novel tries to justify Howard raping Dominique because she smacked him prior. Instead of that kind of sexual assault, the movie “solves” this problem by having him forcibly kiss her and then depicting her trip, fall, and crying on the ground with him smirking over her. 

As a film, The Fountainhead is visually appealing. Director King Vidor utilizes a lot of shadows, particularly on the backs of various characters, to show their ominous side. I also found the shadow shot in which Howard takes his mentor Henry Cameron back to his office to be very impressive because it displays the bleakness of the latter’s state and of the former’s future. In addition, the sets are mostly sparse to emphasize the characters. This is mainly done with wide shots, especially of Gail’s office. Moreover, the Quarry scene is wonderfully done. For those who don’t know, this is the sequence, where Dominique and Howard lock eyes for the first time. It’s an effective and explicit display of the female gaze, which was rarely done in Hollywood’s Golden Age, and I come back to it whenever I have the chance. Let’s just say, it involves a drill.

And of course, since the main character is an architect, someone will ask, “Emily, what do you think of the architecture in the movie?”

Well, it’s serviceable. Ayn Rand wanted Frank Lloyd Wright to design the buildings in the film, for he was inspiration for Howard Roark. However, Warner Brothers declined because they didn’t want to pay Wright’s fee of $250,000. Instead, Edward Carrere did this, and it’s fine. It would’ve been better if Wright actually agreed to contribute. At the same time, the bank model and the Cortlandt building were effectively ugly by combining too many styles.

The film certainly tries and mostly succeeds in selling Objectivism. Most of the cast like Kent Smith as Peter, Robert Douglas as Ellsworth Toohey, and Raymond Massey as Gail do a good job in portraying how one should not be following the philosophy. Smith portrays Peter in his various stages of success without one ounce of identity. Normally, this would be a criticism, but because the character of Peter is supposed to have no sense of self, this is effective. Also, the movie has Ellsworth dressed up to the nines and grasping a cigarette holder most of the time. Patricia Neal plays Dominique. Even though I thought she was a little too over-the-top at times (which can be unintentionally hilarious), she was aloof and emotional when needed. She sells her character as Dominique tries to destroy Howard because of her love for him. 

In addition, the movie has an interesting way of looking at Howard. Say what you want about the book, it clearly wants its reader to root for him even when he commits certain actions. The film uses a shadow on Gary Cooper’s backside in the opening sequence to display how much of a menace he could be to society if he doesn’t give in. Then in the confrontation sequence between Howard and Dominique, lots of dark shadows and suspenseful music, as if it’s a horror flick, are used. At the end of the scene, there’s a closeup of Howard smirking as he stares over Dominique. It’s almost as if the movie is saying that while it doesn’t approve of his actions, it gets where he’s coming from. 

Of course, the film has its problems. First off, alot of its issues mostly stem from the source material. The characters are exaggerated symbols for what Ayn Rand believed about society, and most of them go on philosophical rants. The movie wisely cuts down on most of those speeches, which results in good pacing. However, when it does include those lectures, they tend to slow the flick, especially right before the Cortlandt trial. In addition, the framing of Howard and Dominique’s relationship is still romantic even though it’s toxic and relies on set power dynamics. As mentioned in the last paragraph, the movie attempts to bring nuance to the confrontation scene, but it still can’t get away from the fantasy romance framework. I mean the music turns passionate when Howard kisses Dominique despite the forced nature.

Speaking of the soundtrack, that’s the second issue this film has. Max Steiner (the same guy who was the composer for Gone With the Wind) does the score for this film. Outside of the movie, his music sounds wonderfully bombastic, which would make for a great album listen. I’ve specifically had the musical motif for Howard stuck in my head since I last watched it. In the context of the flick, it feels too melodramatic and on-the-nose for a story that’s already histrionic and blunt to begin with. For example, when Gail (after marrying Dominique) invites Howard over to dinner, there’s a big dramatic chord and stops to wait for the latter’s reply. Along with Cooper’s nonchalant response, that moment becomes unintentionally funny. It would’ve been more appropriate if it went along with Gail asking Howard if he accepts the commission to be the former’s sole architect. 

Finally, the third problem with the movie is Gary Cooper. On paper, it seemed like a good idea to cast him as Howard since his characters often were the strong, silent type. However, on screen, it doesn’t quite work. For one thing, he is too old to play that character. The novel and the movie take place over a number of years starting from Howard getting expelled from school. This would make him about 20ish at the beginning, but Cooper was 47 at the time of shooting. This wasn’t the first time that a 40-year-old Cooper played a college student. He did that briefly in the 1942 film The Pride of the Yankees. In that section of that movie, he slouches and displays an “aww shucks” kind of attitude, and this worked because his character Lou Gehrig was kind of the person to do that. Howard Roark is not that type. 

Additionally, Howard goes on about enjoying the work that one does. Despite that, Gary Cooper doesn’t really communicate this in his performance. Most of the time, Cooper has a stoic and stiff demeanor and speaks that way too. It would’ve been better if Cooper smiled more, not just physically, but also in his voice.

Lastly, the biggest problem with Cooper’s performance is that it seems like he never fully embraces Howard’s values. I’m not saying that every actor should believe the same things as the characters they play. Yet, their job is to convince the audience that they have. It becomes more clear as the story progresses that Cooper is the type of actor who doesn’t fake it. In other words, if something doesn’t sit well with him, he won’t attempt to hide it. This is most apparent in Howard’s big speech at the Cortlandt trial. He delivers it like it’s a college lecture, and that’s serviceable enough. However, there are times where Cooper has his hands in his pockets and dots his eyes to the right like he’s reading off of cue cards, and this talk is the main selling point for Objectivism according to its fans. When I was doing research for this review, I found out that Cooper didn’t understand that speech. That checks out. The only thing that prevents me from deeming Cooper as a complete bust in this flick is that he looks like the perfect physical specimen whom Ayn Rand would’ve desired and that he speaks with a strong and assertive tone.

All in all, the movie version of The Fountainhead certainly tries to capture the spirit of its imperfect source material. It does this with effective results like the cinematography and the set designs and sometimes with campy ones like the score and some of the performances. Despite (and because of) this, the film is more entertaining than the book because it translates the story to the screen that feels most appropriate. In other words, it’s a well-made, but flawed, gateway to the imperfect book. I would recommend it to those who have already read the novel and to those who are watching movies starring Gary Cooper, Patricia Neal, or released in 1949. And if one doesn’t like the Objectivism philosophy or other aspects of the novel and refuses to watch the movie, all I will say is to watch the Quarry scene on YouTube. You’ll love it!

If you haven’t already, go listen to The 300 Passions Podcast, where I discuss the film as well as the book with Zita Short!

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Valley of Shadows Book Review

Full disclosure: I was given a free PDF copy of this book by Books Forward in exchange for an honest review.

Within the last few years, there has been more attention on books written by authors of color. These often reveal perspectives that’s normally not highlighted in the mainstream, and they can find ways to connect with lots of readers. An example of this is Valley of Shadows by Rudy Ruiz – a good recontextualization Hero’s Journey story with a Mexican protagonist in 1883 Mexico/Texas.

Valley of Shadows is a visionary neo-Western blend of magical realism, mystery, and horror, and it explores the dark past of injustice, isolation, and suffering along the US-Mexico border. In 1883 West Texas, after the Rio Grande shifted course, the Mexican city of Olvido gets stranded on the northern side of the new border between the US and Mexico border. When a series of mysterious and horrific crimes occur in the divided town, a Mexican lawman is lured out of retirement to restore order and to save the lives of abducted children. In the face of skeptics and hostile Anglo settlers, Solitario Cisneros struggles to overcome not only the evil forces in the area, but also his own inner demons. He is burdened by a mystical curse that has guided his lonely destiny, until Onawa, a gifted and beautiful Apache-Mexican seer, joins his mission and dares him to change the course of both their lives.

There were many things that I liked about this book. First off, I thought the characters were done well. I like Solitario as a character, for he’s smart, stoic, and good at what he does. Readers can easily see why he’s so reluctant to assist the town with solving the crimes as well as wants to be alone. He yearns to do the right thing in the name of honor even if it tears him apart from the people that he loves. He’s also battling some demons due to a curse that his grandmother placed on the male side of his family. In addition, I like Onawa, who is half Mexican and half Apache. She possesses supernatural abilities and assists Solitario. Even though her main motive is to be with him, she becomes more confident and figures out what she really wants after spending most of her life with her father away from her tribe. Furthermore, I want to give credit to Ruiz for including a diverse cast of white, Mexican, and indigenous people. This reflects the real makeup of Texas as opposed to what other stories that involve the US-Mexico border depict.

In addition, it does an effective job with addressing identity, injustice, and discrimination in this time period. With identity, the non-white characters often ruminate on who they are and where their homes are. This is true both physically with Mexicans discovering that Olvido has suddenly moved to the United States because of the shifting Rio Grande and mentally with Solitario wanting a place to be loved, but without being reminded of his past. The injustice aspect is highlighted when Onawa acknowledges how if Solitario as the new sheriff arrests a white person for a crime, then he would be considered racist by the Anglo settlers, but if he apprehends a Mexican person, then other Mexicans would assume that he’s selling out his own ethnicity. Moreover, racial discrimination is constantly acknowledged in a multitude of ways. For example, while Solitario investigates, the town gets so restless that some of the white men decide to round up the Mexican and Apache men and boys and shoot them in order to execute their own version of justice. Luckily, he thwarts this crime by playing his guitar and putting those would-be murderers to sleep. This all works because Ruiz – a son of Mexican immigrants – understands that identity, injustice, and discrimination surface in many ways.

Furthermore, I love the recurring theme of never truly being alone. While Solitario (good name for a guy who wants to be alone) wants to live by himself away from others, he’s constantly reminded of the people around him like his family and his deceased wife due to the curse. Even his friend and sidekick Elias (as a ghost) sticks by Solitario as the latter encounters the trials and tribulations of searching for the kids and the perpetrators.

One thing that I observed is that the book likes to pepper in various Spanish words and phrases. It gives it more authenticity. I imagined the Mexican characters speaking to each other in that language even when the text is in English. While it does help to know a little bit of Spanish, readers will most likely be able to figure out what they mean through the context.

While reading the novel, I also discovered that even though it’s nearly 500 pages, it moves at a brisk pace. Outside of Spanish words and phrases, Ruiz mostly avoids using jargon in the text. Moreover, the pacing matches the urgency of the situation. This is especially true in how Solitario genuinely wants to solve the crimes and prove himself to the white settlers in Olvido in his own way.

One final thing that I noticed while reading it is that it perfectly fits with the Hero’s Journey template popularized by Joseph Campbell. Solitario gets the call to help the town to solve the crimes as the new sheriff, but he refuses outright. However, he ends up searching for the abducted children with assistance from Onawa, who has supernatural abilities. He goes through some trials, meets with a woman who knows about Aztec culture, (the kidnappers and murderers use that civilization’s rituals to carry out their crimes) who assists him with the murders and kidnappings (Meeting with a Goddess), and has an atonement with the Father (which results in a great twist). And of course, he experiences death and rebirth. Even though it felt a little too neat, I feel that it was done that way, so readers could recognize the template in other stories like Star Wars. Valley of Shadows does an effective spin on the Hero’s Journey. 

Finally, I want to point out that this might not be for everybody. There are some scenes, in which people are brutally murdered. For instance, its opening scene contains the first Olvido sheriff, his wife, and their eldest son getting murdered, and it’s pretty gory. Even I got squeamish at times. Additionally, some people might not like the talk about injustice and the plot being “woke,” thinking that’s too contemporary. I think it’s necessary because it feels natural to the story. Solitario faces plenty of bigoted Anglo settlers who feel entitled to many things like land in Olvido and being allowed to perform their own version of the law.All in all, Valley of Shadows by Rudy Ruiz is a good novel that features a diverse cast and acknowledges perspectives that aren’t usually recognized. Some people may be turned off by the gory bits or the talk of injustice, but the book is worth the read because it recontextualizes the Hero’s Journey into late 19th century Mexico/Texas, and it has very likable characters that readers would want to root for. I would recommend it for those who love westerns, horrors, and magic realism as well as want to read more titles by Latine authors. The book is out tomorrow, September 20, so get it at your local bookstore or library!

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The Fountainhead Book Review

Ever since I reviewed Rain is Not My Indian Name by Cynthia Leitich Smith, I’ve been lowering my expectations when going into a new book. This has helped me tremendously to see the many facets of the novel in question and to be as neutral as possible. Today’s subject was a challenge because it came with plenty of baggage, and it still has a following even in the nearly eighty years since its publication in 1943. Now, one might ask, “Emily, what is this book in question?”

Reader, it’s The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand – a novel that I see the timelessness of even though it’s not for me.

The Fountainhead tells the tale of Howard Roark, the extremely uncompromising young architect; of Dominique Francon, an exquisitely beautiful woman who marries his worst enemy despite loving Howard passionately; and of the society who tries to bring him down. This novel sowed the seeds of Rand’s famous Objectivism philosophy and presented the idea that man’s ego is the fountainhead of human progress.

Since this book helped popularize the philosophy of Objectivism, I will give my two cents on it as promised. Here are four tenets to this thinking:

  1. Objective Reality: Reality is objective. There’s a true reality outside of our own personal perceptions.
  2. Reason: Reason is all we had and all we need, and it’s absolute. Facts outweigh emotion and faith.
  3. Self-interest: The highest moral purpose should be the pursuit of your own happiness.
  4. Laissez-faire capitalism: The economy should be completely unregulated and separate from the government.

I’m going to be honest. While I understand certain aspects of Objectivism, I have some issues with it. With reality and reason,while  there are certainly people who view the world that way, there are others whose worldviews are impacted by their personal experiences. As a result, they can’t always see the world around them objectively. It’s not entirely their fault. Nonetheless, having objective reality and reason helps to put things in perspective. 

When it comes to self-interest, on one hand, people have been selfish in order to take care of themselves and achieve what happiness they want. That’s why self care has been highly important, especially since the initial Covid rise. On the other hand, selfishness has led to harming and exploiting others. Rand herself never really acknowledged that aspect of self-interest. In addition, I get that she grew up in a time where the Bolsheviks overthrew the Russian monarchy and replaced it with communism. I also comprehend that there are times, in which people have utilized compromise to use others for their personal gain. One can look at Joseph Stalin and how he ruled the Soviet Union to grasp that notion. However, that doesn’t always mean taking advantage of others nor the end of one’s dreams. In a way, compromise can allow for people to pursue their own goals using different tactics. 

Finally with laissez-faire capitalism, I get that having that kind of economy allows for free trade and lack of government interference. On the other hand, there have been plenty of issues caused by unregulated economies including inequalities in wealth and income, depressions, and monopolies.

For the content itself, I can see its timeless quality. Every generation will have people who are idealists, selfish, and/or rich. If they come across this book, it would be easy for them to form a personality around it, especially if they are teenagers who see it as a metaphor for creating art for one’s own happiness as opposed to doing it for the masses. This is so because the book is absolutely convinced of its ideals and has a clear distinction of what are the right and wrong ways to work and live. It also helps that most of the characters are more symbolisms than people for a certain way of living, so readers don’t have to think too hard on their personalities and can focus more on what is being said. In other words, I can see why people like big business CEOs, politicians, certain celebrities, and teenagers would be attached to the novel.

In addition, one can easily have a genuine conversation with another if the book is ever brought up. During the two months that I read it, I’ve chatted with people who’ve liked and disliked it. They would usually go into their own beliefs and values as well as their feelings on the novel itself. These are the kinds of conversations that I yearn to have with other readers, so I do thank The Fountainhead for opening plenty of doors.

However, the book is not intended as a metaphor. It’s basically a manual on how Objectivism, especially with laissez-faire capitalism, is the way to live life as a story. In that regard, it somewhat works. While it certainly discusses how self-interest is good; how altruism is bad; and how the main character Howard Roark uses reason and sees the world in a objective way, it barely touches upon capitalism outside a brief discussion involving Ellsworth Toohey and a group of people in the second half of the novel. I wonder if this is so because Ayn Rand wanted readers to see the first three tenets more than the fourth one in order to hook them in. If the book spent more time asserting the pros of that specific kind of capitalism, then it would be a better guidebook.

Moreover, the novel definitely would have benefited from an editor. It seems like every character, no matter how important they are to the plot, has a speech of some sorts that goes on and on. Granted, there are times where the detailed descriptions and long-winded ruminations are tolerated. For example, since architecture is an integral part of the book, Rand describes almost every characteristic of the buildings that are mentioned. Also, Howard delivers the speech of all speeches with a lecture on the unalienable rights of man in the courtroom to justify why he blew up the Cortlandt building (to be fair, Ellsworth gave a big speech defending a sculptor who tried to assassinate him early in the book, and the latter got off scot-free, which is a nice and hokey piece of foreshadowing to what would happen with Howard). Prior to that, he rarely went on rants. Personally, I would’ve cut out at least 100-200 pages to make it tighter.

However, there are some things that I liked about The Fountainhead. For starters, Rand does a good job with making her audience not like Peter Keating, Ellsworth, and Gail Wynand. Peter is the type of person whose self-esteem is determined by the people around him and has no personal values of his own. This is best illustrated with his relationship with Catherine, Ellsworth’s niece. Peter sees her every few months or so, but he promises to marry her. Then, when he is supposed to wed, he does it with Dominique Francon. Ellsworth is a man who preaches collectivism and how everything one should do is for the greater good. However, he does this as a way to dominate others by controlling their opinions (*cough Joseph Stalin). This is exemplified by his attempt to take over The Banner newspaper. Gail is a media tycoon who was self-taught and self-made, but he became the people whom he despised. He becomes Howard’s ally and friend because the latter reminds him of his younger self. Sadly, Gail betrays the latter at the end after the people turned against the former for his opinion on the architect.

Additionally, I find Dominique to be a fascinatingly complex character. I like how cold, distant, and witty she is, and how she uses them to shield her deep love of various things, including Howard, to prevent them from ruining her. She spends a good chunk of the novel trying to destroy him, while helping him behind his back. It’s clear that she’s the most developed character in the novel, which is saying a lot since it was published in a time, where complex women in literature were rare, and that the rest of the (male) cast are mainly symbols.

Now there’s one thing that I know certain people will want me to discuss in the novel, and that’s the rape scene. Before I started reading the book, I had a feeling that I was going to be frustrated by it because of all its philosophical rants and what it represented. Surprisingly, I wasn’t because I knew about these beforehand, except for the rape. I had a hunch about the assault after watching the 1949 movie version starring Gary Cooper (hey, I recognize that name) and Patricia Neal. 

It’s not the forced act itself that I have an issue with since I’ve read other titles that contain scenes similar to that. It’s more of how it’s reasoned and framed. Rand herself has defended writing this scene, calling it “a rape by engraved invitation.”

Now, I understand that Dominique striked Howard with the tree branch and that people have different perceptions of what consent looks like. My problem with Rand’s reasoning is that this is what a rapist would say to justify violating another person. It’s victim blaming. Remember, this book was written by a person who truly believed that white people were completely justified in stealing indigenous land because of the belief that the natives weren’t doing anything productive with it in the name of capitalism. Furthermore, it’s a fantasy rape, for Dominique falls in love with Howard even more because he drilled her without asking for her permission, and she wanted to be treated like a servant being punished by her master. Outside of the philosophy itself and how certain Rand disciples have acted, this romantic framing of the heinous act is the reason why the book remains controversial in some circles. This is also why I couldn’t root for Howard despite his objective reality, rational reasoning, and pursuit of his own interests.

Finally, if one decides to read this book, I want to warn them of how on-the-nose it is. In fact, I had to put the book down after the second sentence when Rand describes how Howard is butt-naked standing by a lake. She’s the type of author who wants to be as clear as whistle when it comes to interpreting her material. In fact, in the author’s introduction that was included in the novel’s 25th anniversary edition, she spends a lot of time clarifying its intent and certain statements like how the character Hopton Stoddard says, “You’re a profoundly religious man, Mr. Roark —in your own way. I can see that in your buildings” and Howard agrees (p. xi). In other words, Rand and subtly mix just as well as oil and water do.

Overall, The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand is a novel that will get people talking for good or worse. I liked certain elements, yet it can be cumbersome due to the philosophy that’s promoted, the writing itself, and how specific things are handled. It’s not that dense of a book, but it can certainly feel that way at times. Nonetheless, I see how truly timeless it is because it appeals to the idealists, whether they are teenagers, big business CEOs, politicians, and/or celebrities. So for that reason, I would recommend it to those kinds of people as well as to those who do not understand the former. If one doesn’t want to read it, I won’t force it on them. Despite my grievances, I came out of reading The Fountainhead with an appreciation for it because I lowered my expectations.

Before I go, I want to let you all know that I’ll be talking about the movie adaptation with Zita Short on her The 300 Passions Podcast! We’ll be discussing the baggage associated with the book and film as well as why the latter failed to make the cut on the American Film Institute’s 100 Years…Passions list. It’ll be my second time on that podcast. I had seen the movie before, and it motivated me to read the book, so it’ll be a fun time talking about how faithful it is to the novel. Stay tuned for my movie review as well as for that episode!

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