The Almost Moon – Alice Sebold

A book that my mum bought for 1£ at the Red House in Bexleyheath, I’m so very proud of her…

Like most critics, I found the novel’s opening sentence to be nothing short of awesome. Unlike a number of critics, however, I did think the novel was really good. As far as I could see, the portrayal of Helen, the main character (and parricide), was criticized for being morally and intellectually incoherent – but that’s what I thought was great, as I suppose the mind of a daughter who has just killed her mother must be at least slightly shaken.

I also found the characterization of the love-hate relationship between daughter and mother to be rather believable (and, I assume, accurate), and, in all honesty, I sort of justified Helen (does that make me an awful person or a psychopath? I hope not, and I actually think I’m rather sane, much like Helen’s former husband thinks of her).

Most of all, the novel raises all sorts of questions about the need in our society to work so terribly hard to keep the elderly alive – I wish we could just let them go (although if we think they need a push, admittedly this can be done in a better way!). 

The Goldfinch – Donna Tartt

There is nothing wrong with reading a best-seller every now and again. In particular one that has won the Pulitzer Prize. In particular one that was bought for 2 cheeky pounds.

However, there are plenty of things that I think are wrong with this particular book: it’s long; Donna Tartt spends the first 400 pages of it essentially trying to persuade the reader of how good-natured the main character is before making his dramatic entry into the criminal underworld (and the fact that it essentially jumps from Theo’s return from Vegas straight into his shady dealings makes you wonder what he has actually done in the meantime – it’s not quite like what’s happened to Jesus between the age of 12 and 30, but almost…), and most of all the ending, with its banal comments about life, its meaning, and its shortness, is so trite that I actually really struggled to read that final chapter.

On the plus side, though, the art comments are really interesting, but probably that’s because I’m Italian and, never having had much time for Dutch and Flemish art, most of those were actually new to me…

Still, I have to recognize that this is a book that has to be read. And, at least in my case, one that should be pretty much forgotten once it’s over. 

Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoevsky

I figured my best chance of reading (and understanding) Crime and Punishment was to power through it over the long Easter weekend. I thought my mind was going to be blown away. Much to my surprise, it wasn't. 

The problem was that I didn't care about what happened to Raskolnikov. He could turn himself in, he could be found, he could run away - it just didn't matter to me. His mental lapses, his guilt (or lack thereof), his rants left me rather unmoved. And - to make matters worse - I also kept on thinking about Martin Cruz Smith's Arkady Renko (yes, I know I'm linking one of the universally recognized greatest novels ever written to a 1980s trashy - but oh so good - best-seller!) and his comments about the triviality of Russian murders... And the epilogue - with the promised redemption - upset me a fair bit with its cheesiness. 

The only moments in which I actually liked Raskolnikov where the ones in which he came to the realization that he is not a Übermensch (where he appeared not just like a human being, but like one who might deserve some sympathy). And I felt that my favourite character - Svidrigailov - was not given the attention (and the space) he deserved - his story was the one that deserved to be told in minute detail, in my humble opinion...