Nineteen Eighty-Four - George Orwell

BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU

"I'm about to read Nineteen Eighty-Four," I would say. Those who hadn't read it would reply "What's that about?" Those who had read it all had the same reaction.
A sort of a shudder, a bit of a shrug, and a low "Oooooh."

Approaching a book knowing it is not going to be a joyful ride, knowing it will only end unhappily and knowing that you will be left feeling deflated is an interesting sensation.

To even begin, you require resolution and strength and then, as the end approaches, you need all the willpower you can muster to continue. Because you know. You know that all those hopeful fantasies you are harbouring will not come true...

I read it greedily but when the covers were closed and the book tight shut, I had to brace myself for the onslaught afresh. My mind raced with all the possibilities - I was on edge - I simply had to keep reading to know if any of my suspicions or hopes were close.

The energy consumed through trying to guess the end left me feeling empty once I reached it. But I think emptiness is what you are supposed to feel. Flat. Pancake-y.

"The comparisons with today's government are uncanny," I was told. It is true. Certain phrases and situations would case me to start and look up at the corners of my room for hidden cameras while my mind raced wildly to the life I am living and the current state of the world.

I had only read one third of the book before the bleak dreams began. Thoughtcrime. Inability to say what I want. Inability to think what I want. Hidden emotions. War. Big Brother. "This book is fucking me up more than I expected," I would say to anyone who would listen, "what am I going to be like by the time I reach the end?"

Nothing happened.
Emptiness happened.

Here's wishing George Orwell a happy birthday. I know what I'm going to be doing this weekend. All the crime. Sexcrime. Thoughtcrime.

Just in case it is outlawed tomorrow...

The Two Pearls of Wisdom - Alison Goodman

"...the truth can be  deadly..."

I've discovered I have a type. I think we all do. I've known for a long time that my favourite is fantasy, but I realised that I specifically like fantasy with strong female leads. I will read others of course, but I am instinctively drawn towards feisty beautiful female characters with magical abilities and a penchance for a dashing price.

I think this is where I went astray. Instead of being instinctively drawn to this book, I was seeking it out. As I sat cross legged on the floor of the second-hand book shop, classical music playing soothingly in the background, I picked up book after book looking for female leads. The premise of The Two Pearls of Wisdom fascinated me and I like to support Australian authors.

Sadly, the book felt somewhat amateur and it didn't end, meaning I have to purchase the next book in the series. Which I will, of course, not because I truly want to follow the characters on their journey, but because that is where I will find the ending of the first book.

However, it was a pleasant and easy read. I wanted a light fluffy read and I got more than I bargained for. Maybe I am being too harsh on the poor book, seeing as it follows The Time Traveler's Wife which unceremoniously ripped out my heart...

The little feminist within me rallied with Eon/Eona, I desperately wanted her to succeed. Her struggle with her womanhood in a male dominated society and the need to conform, to hide her true self as something shameful both insulted me (as a feminist) and compelled me to commend her strength. 

     He grunted. "You have the courage of a warrior."
     "No," I said flatly. "I don't. " 
     "Are you frightened now?"
     I nodded, shame flushing my skin.
     "Is it going to stop you?"
     "No. "
     "That is the courage of a warrior."

Also there was magic and dragons and shit. I love that.

The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger




"A big reckless novel...."

My eyes would travel to those words on the cover on the rare occasions I closed the book, the times when I absolutely had to get up and do something with my life other than follow Henry and Clare through the past and the future. I finished the 518 page novel in roughly 24 hours with little respite. Even when I wasn't reading it, it consumed my thoughts. Big and reckless it is. Oh, how it mercilessly toyed with my emotions.

"It will stay with you for some time. That fucking book ruined a whole day of my honeymoon," my best friend said in an effort to console me, "Do you have any hard liquor in the house?"

This is not a book to be taken lightly. You do not finish this book feeling elated and then move on with your life. You are depressed and saddened and filled with such longing that you lay awake at one in the morning still thinking about it.

This book cuts out your heart and hands it back to you on a plate.

But this is not a bad thing. The Time Traveler's Wife makes you feel. If you are empty, your heart will be kick started into action. If you are full, your emotions will create a meniscus on the surface of your experiences and spill down the sides. If you are in love, you will understand. If you have lost, you will understand. You will move through every emotion as you move back and forth in time with Henry.

At times, the story is wickedly funny. It is also very sexy. It explores themes of love and family, free will, choices, survival, time and knowledge - what would you do if you knew what was going to happen? The story can feel a little lurching at first until you fall into the rhythm of the non-linear, non-sequential and patternless moving backwards and forwards in time, so make sure you keep an eye on the dates and ages of our protagonists. And hold on tight.

Snuggle down with this book on a cold weekend when you won't be interrupted; on a weekend when no one will see your red rimmed eyes and simply be with Henry and Clare in their love.