The book: Requiem (Delirium #3)
The author: Lauren Oliver
The rating: 2 stars
I've been struggling to write a review for this book, procrastinating in a way that is normally reserved only for term papers and phone calls to relatives, and for a while I couldn't understand why. I've always enjoyed writing these reviews (it's not as if I'm being paid to tell the Internet my opinions, after all), but for some reason my subconscious seemed to be avoiding writing this review at all costs. By this point, I've already read another book that needs reviewing, so I've been forced to ret-con this review into existence lest not count Requiem towards my challenge total entirely. But now, struggling to think of something to say about the final, trite book in what I've found to be an entirely trite series, I've realized that the problem is that I simply didn't care one iota about Requiem.
Confession time: today is actually August 15th, not the 3rd, so I finished this book about two weeks ago, and I still don't have anything to say about it except to rehash everything I've said about Delirium and Pandemonium. It was boring; nothing stands out two weeks later except for the fact that the ending was positively horrendous. Utterly unexplored character deaths, arbitrary endpoints, and overall no semblance of closure for pretty much all of the major plot points of the trilogy. If I was actually emotionally invested in the series, I would probably have been thoroughly disappointed.
And, yeah, that's about it for this review. If you're thinking 'Wait, what? This review is over already? She hasn't even said anything yet!', then congratulations! That's the exact feeling you'll get when you turn the last page of Requiem. Now that you've got that experience out of the way, you can leave the Delirium series on the shelf and save yourself a handful of hours of your hard-earned free time.
Showing posts with label 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2. Show all posts
Sunday, 3 August 2014
Friday, 28 February 2014
9. Short and Sour
The book: "Master Harold" ...and the Boys
The author: Athol Fugard
The rating: 2 stars
Master Harold shares a few similarities with Streetcar: it's not what I typically read; it's a play, not a novel; I was assigned to read it for English class... It's also one of those 'literary merit'-type of books, full of sophisticated themes and poignant social commentary, and unbearably dry. As I mentioned in my Streetcar review, I love a large number of works of classic fiction, but I always prefer genre pieces to literary ones. Plays like Master Harold feel more like a thinly-veiled essay than a story, and I've never been a fan of that.
While others are frequently referenced and hold great importance to the plot, only three characters appear in the 60-page play: seventeen-year-old Hally (the titular Master Harold), and older black men Willie and Sam (the boys) who work for Hally's mother at her tea house. I have noticed that one of the biggest differences between adult and YA/children's fiction is the role of the protagonist. In stories for the younger crowd, protagonist = hero, almost without exception. In works for adults, this equivalency does not exist, as is the case in Master Harold. From the beginning, Hally made me want to scratch out my eyeballs. The play may be set in 1950, but Hally was eerily like some insufferable seventeen-year-olds I know. You'd recognize the type: almost a hipster, pretentious and condescending; an atheist not because of well-considered philosophical beliefs, but because believing in things is for stupid people. The world revolves around them and their struggles are paramount; nobody could possibly understand what they are going through, and nobody has ever suffered anything worse. Add in some intense racism towards the boys and a disgust towards his father, not due to his unsavoury personality, but because he is a cripple, and suffice to say Hally's not the type of boy I'd want to ask to Senior Prom.
As I mentioned, the play often reads more like an essay than anything else. Hally and Sam debate about men of greatness; the impact of racism in South Africa is explored; Hally is a complete and utter asshat to every person in his life. And yeah. That's it. That's the play. It's definitely not my cup of tea, but for what it is--a statement about the South African apartheid--it is interesting enough.
Next week: Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
The author: Athol Fugard
The rating: 2 stars
Master Harold shares a few similarities with Streetcar: it's not what I typically read; it's a play, not a novel; I was assigned to read it for English class... It's also one of those 'literary merit'-type of books, full of sophisticated themes and poignant social commentary, and unbearably dry. As I mentioned in my Streetcar review, I love a large number of works of classic fiction, but I always prefer genre pieces to literary ones. Plays like Master Harold feel more like a thinly-veiled essay than a story, and I've never been a fan of that.
While others are frequently referenced and hold great importance to the plot, only three characters appear in the 60-page play: seventeen-year-old Hally (the titular Master Harold), and older black men Willie and Sam (the boys) who work for Hally's mother at her tea house. I have noticed that one of the biggest differences between adult and YA/children's fiction is the role of the protagonist. In stories for the younger crowd, protagonist = hero, almost without exception. In works for adults, this equivalency does not exist, as is the case in Master Harold. From the beginning, Hally made me want to scratch out my eyeballs. The play may be set in 1950, but Hally was eerily like some insufferable seventeen-year-olds I know. You'd recognize the type: almost a hipster, pretentious and condescending; an atheist not because of well-considered philosophical beliefs, but because believing in things is for stupid people. The world revolves around them and their struggles are paramount; nobody could possibly understand what they are going through, and nobody has ever suffered anything worse. Add in some intense racism towards the boys and a disgust towards his father, not due to his unsavoury personality, but because he is a cripple, and suffice to say Hally's not the type of boy I'd want to ask to Senior Prom.
As I mentioned, the play often reads more like an essay than anything else. Hally and Sam debate about men of greatness; the impact of racism in South Africa is explored; Hally is a complete and utter asshat to every person in his life. And yeah. That's it. That's the play. It's definitely not my cup of tea, but for what it is--a statement about the South African apartheid--it is interesting enough.
Next week: Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
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