Tag Archives: literature

BOOKS: The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

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The Importance of Being EarnestThe Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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This play is an amusing cautionary tale on the dangers of “Bunburying” and / or leading a double life. “Bunburying,” a term coined by Wilde in this play, is the act of concocting meetings with a fictitious friend to get out of tedious familial (and other social) obligations. Don’t want to go to Aunt Bessie’s potluck? Tell her that your friend with a plausibly absurd name (e.g. Bunbury) has ruptured a disc in his back and desperately needs your assistance. Bunburying is the specialty of one of the two bachelor characters this story is built around, a man named Algernon. The other, Jack, goes by the name Ernest when he is in London, and has to invent the story that he has a brother when his town and country dichotomy of personalities starts to be seen through by those other than Algernon.

This humorous tale revolves around both Algernon and Jack finding desirable fiancés while being tangled in the web of their own duplicity. Much of the humor comes from the interactions of Algernon and Jack, two men who are quite alike, though Jack thinks himself more respectable. Algernon is more at ease with his own scamp-like nature and plays a role similar to that played by Lord Henry in Wilde’s novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. That is, Algernon offers many a quotable line that at least has the appearance of wisdom — if, often, a kind of nihilistic wisdom.

This play is definitely worth reading.

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I dwell in Possibility (466) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

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I dwell in Possibility --
   A fairer House than Prose --
 More numerous of Windows --
   Superior -- for doors --

Of Chambers as the Cedars --
   Impregnable of eye --
 And for an everlasting Roof
   The Gambrels of the Sky --

Of Visitors -- the fairest --
   For Occupation -- This --
 The spreading wide of my narrow Hands
   To gather Paradise --

Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare [w/ Audio]

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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
   Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
 Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
   And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
 Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
   And often is his gold complexion dimm'd:
 And every fair from fair sometime declines,
   By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
 But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
   Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
 Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
   When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;

   So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Five Wise Lines from The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

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The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern life would be very tedious if it were either, and modern literature, a complete impossibility!

Algernon

Oh! it is absurd to have a hard and fast rule about what one should read and what one shouldn’t. More than half of modern culture depends upon what one shouldn’t read.

ALgernon

It is awfully hard work doing nothing. However, I don’t mind hard work where there is no definite object of any kind.

Algernon

One has a right to Bunbury anywhere one chooses. Every serious Bunburyist knows that.

Algernon; [fyi: “Bunburying” is the use of appointments with ficticious individuals to get out of one’s duties and obligations.]

One should always eat muffins quite calmly.

Algernon

Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll [w/ Audio]

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'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
   Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
 All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
   The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
 Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
   Long time the manxome foe he sought --
 So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
   The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
 Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
   The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
 He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
   Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
 O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
    He chortled in his joy. 

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
   Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

O Captain! My Captain by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]

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O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
 The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
 The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
 While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
       But O heart! heart! heart!
          O the bleeding drops of red!
             Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
 Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,
 For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,
 For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
       Here, Captain! dear father!
          This arm beneath your head!
              It is some dream that one the deck
                 You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
 My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
 The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
 From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
       Exult, O shores! and sing, O bells!
          But I, with mournful tread,
             Walk the deck my Captain lies, 
                 Fallen cold and dead.

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae

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In Flanders fields the poppies blow
 Between the crosses, row on row,
      That mark our place; and in the sky
      The larks, still bravely singing, fly
  Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
  We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
       Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
          In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
   To you from failing hands we throw
       The torch; be yours to hold it high. 
       If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost [w/ Audio]

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Whose woods these are I think I know.
 His house is in the village though;
  He will not see me stopping here
 To watch his woods fill up with snow. 

My little horse must think it queer
 To stop without a farmhouse near
   Between the woods and frozen lake
 The darkest evening of the year. 

He gives his harness bells a shake
 To ask if there is some mistake.
  The only other sound's the sweep
 Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
 But I have promises to keep,
  And miles to go before I sleep,
 And miles to go before I sleep.

The Tiger by William Blake [w/ Audio]

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Tiger, tiger, burning bright
 In the forests of the night,
  What immortal hand or eye
 Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
 Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
  On what wings dare he aspire?
 What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
 Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
  And, when thy heart began to beat,
 What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?
 In what furnace was thy brain?
  What the anvil? What dread grasp
 Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
 And watered heaven with their tears,
  Did he smile his work to see?
 Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
 In the forests of the night,
  What immortal hand or eye
 Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

BOOKS: Wonderful Wonderful Times by Elfriede Jelinek

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Wonderful, Wonderful TimesWonderful, Wonderful Times by Elfriede Jelinek
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Amazon.in Page

If I said this book was A Clockwork Orange meets A Midsummer Night’s Dream it would be in some ways deceptive but in other ways, accurate. The book has none of the otherworldliness of those other stories and, instead, is set in a realistic 1950’s Vienna. Furthermore, those comparisons might confuse readers into not realizing this book is unambiguously a tragedy.

The book is set around four kids (Rainer, Anna, Hans, and Sophie) who like to beat up and rob adults, usually using a kind of catfishing scheme where they trick a middle-aged man into thinking he is about to have a getting lucky with Lolita moment before the other three gang up on the man in a moment of shock and awe. Here lies the “Clockwork Orange” comparison: youths enamored of violence as a means to combat the boredom and meaninglessness of their lives — possibly while passing on the abuse they receive in their own lives.

The “Midsummer Night’s Dream” part comes in with the book’s love geometry. Like that Shakespearean play, there are two boys and two girls and both boys are in love with the same girl (Sophie,) leaving the other girl (Anna) in a sad unrequited territory.

The book won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, and not only because it deals heavily in sex and violence. There are a couple factors that make the book feel strange. First of all, it is written in present tense. Secondly, it spends a lot of time in the minds of the characters and relatively little time with the action. Thirdly, the pacing of the conclusion and resolution of the book is abrupt and might feel forced — like the author was 245 pages in when the publisher told her that she had 250 pages, maximum, and that she’d better be wrapping it up. I didn’t find any of these factors to be problematic, but I can see how they would rub some readers the wrong way.

If the premise intrigues, you should definitely read this book – particularly if the previous paragraph’s warning didn’t turn you off.

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