Strange & Norrell - He says
Mar. 24th, 2006 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brixtonbroodStrange & Norrell -
This kind of follows on from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
white_hart's earlier post, on her journal. Mrs Brixtonbrood mentioned that I also gave up on Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, and I was going to reply on that post, but realized that I would stretch her journal ridiculously, so my own comments on it are discreetly hidden.
So: Why, given that I've read (and enjoyed) The Mysteries Of Udolpho, why couldn't I finish Strange & Norrell?
For the unfamiliar: The Mysteries Of Udolpho is the book that Jane Austen satirized in Northanger Abbey. In it, an innocent orphan is subjected to all sorts of mysterious ghostly unpleasantness in her uncle's castle at Udolpho (apologies if I've got the detail wrong here, but I'm going on two-year-old memory of a book that, to be honest, isn't very good). Like S&N, it starts slow (her dad's still alive at page 100), it's (as I said) not very good, and it's proper early 1800s.
I made notes. This year, I've been keeping a record of what I've read, and as Strange & Norrell is the first failure this year, I noted down why I couldn't bring myself to finish it. This is unusual for me; I can only think of two other books that I've started but not finished: The Man In The High Castle and Wuthering Heights. (I can't remember why I gave up on the Dick; Wuthering Heights was just ghastly, with a painfully artificial framing device, and after 200 pages I realized that I simply didn't give a fuck what happened to any of the characters.) I've finished Luan Ranzetta's "Yellow Inferno". I've finished The 120 Days Of Sodom. I've finished The Brothers Karamazov. I've even finished Don Quixote, which is THE WORST BOOK IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD. (Do not reply with "ooh, no, Don Quixote's really good" - it is THE WORST BOOK IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD and that's that.) I can finish pretty much ANYTHING.
But Strange & Norrell? Well, people (Mrs Brixtonbrood included) mentioned earlier that they they were drawn in by the style, the footnotes, and the English fairytales, and then pulled into the plot. Hmmm. I'll attack all of those "attractions", but not in turn.
1) Style. In which a late 20th/early 21st century writer pretends to be an early 19th century writer. Maybe she does it really well, I don't know, because my attention was always being dragged away by her deliberate, wilful mis-spelling.
The one that really pissed me off was that she always used "chuse" instead of "choose". Now, it might just be me, but the first time I saw this, it was like driving into a pothole. I stopped reading, and looked back at the word "chuse", and thought "What the fuck does that mean then?", and I put the book down, and was about to get the dictionary out, and then realized "Oh, hang on, she means "choose", oh, it's an archaism, oh, right," and I picked up the book again and restarted, and tried to ignore the image of Susanna Clarke going "Look, I used the old spelling of a word, because I'm writing this book as if it was actually written in the early 1800s, and that's how they'd have spelt it back then, aren't I clever?".
First time: "Oh, that's quite clever."
Fifth time: "Yes, Susanna, you're very clever, now stop it."
Tenth time: "FUCK. THE. FUCK. OFF."
Because it's lazy writing. It's like showing that a Welsh character is Welsh by having them say "look you" at the end of each line of dialogue. If you want me to think that your text is original early-1800s, then get the phrasing right, don't cheat by using archaic spellings. Ridiculously annoying.
2) But not as annoying as Mr Drawlight. Or "Fucking Mr Fucking Drawlight", as I started to think of him.
Serious question: why do otherwise competent writers choose to introduce characters who are so stupidly annoying that the only option is to refuse to continue with their work?
Obviously, the canonical example here is Joss Whedon. Clearly a capable writer (think of the "That would explain the slurred speech" line from the original Buffy The Vampire Slayer film), but I've been unable to watch anything he's done since then because of his desire to introduce unbelievably annoying characters (Cordelia, Faith, etc).
So with Mr Drawlight. I asked Mrs Brixtonbrood whether he got torn limb from limb by angry elves (oops, fairies), and she said no, and in view of that, I started to think "I don't want to bother with the rest of this book if it's going to have Mr Fucking Drawlight in it". And so to
3) Fairytales. I admit to something of a blindspot here, possibly because my parents never read me that sort of bedtime story (it was certainly all new to me when I started reading bedtime stories to Small and Tiny). It was probably this that led me to the viewpoint of "Oh whoopeedoo, we're in sodding Faerieland again; oh for fuck's sake". This did whatever the opposite of grabbing me is; kicking me hard in the kidneys and then pissing on my face, probably. Faery. For fuck's sake.
Pratchett did this so much better in Lords And Ladies.
4) And finally. The single reason why I put the book back on the shelf. The footnote at pages 42 to 47 of the second book, about the Master of Nottingham's daughter.
When I read this, I thought "What the fuck is this doing here? It's stilted, it's dull, it's just taking up space and wasting ink. Surely any editor would have taken this out?" Because, as far as I could see, it was just a badly written pastiche of an English folktale (and they're not exactly well-written to start with).
But clearly it was there for a reason, otherwise it would have been edited out. And the only reason I could see was because it, in some way, had some relevance to and somehow reflected the story that was going on around it (after all, it wasn't in there on merit).
And I couldn't see what relevance it had to what had happened before.
And that's when I realized that I had utterly missed the point of whatever had been going in the previous 300-odd pages.
And that's when I gave up.
My notes say "I hate it when a book makes me feel stupid."
It's not that it's slow (although, by God, it is). It's not even that nothing has happened (although, by God, nothing has). It's that five-page-long notice saying "You, Mr Brixtonbrood, Are A Moron" that finally made me gave up. As I've often imagined, everyone else is much smarter than me.
However, Mr Drawlight is still a twat.
This kind of follows on from
white_hart's earlier post, on her journal. Mrs Brixtonbrood mentioned that I also gave up on Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, and I was going to reply on that post, but realized that I would stretch her journal ridiculously, so my own comments on it are discreetly hidden.So: Why, given that I've read (and enjoyed) The Mysteries Of Udolpho, why couldn't I finish Strange & Norrell?
For the unfamiliar: The Mysteries Of Udolpho is the book that Jane Austen satirized in Northanger Abbey. In it, an innocent orphan is subjected to all sorts of mysterious ghostly unpleasantness in her uncle's castle at Udolpho (apologies if I've got the detail wrong here, but I'm going on two-year-old memory of a book that, to be honest, isn't very good). Like S&N, it starts slow (her dad's still alive at page 100), it's (as I said) not very good, and it's proper early 1800s.
I made notes. This year, I've been keeping a record of what I've read, and as Strange & Norrell is the first failure this year, I noted down why I couldn't bring myself to finish it. This is unusual for me; I can only think of two other books that I've started but not finished: The Man In The High Castle and Wuthering Heights. (I can't remember why I gave up on the Dick; Wuthering Heights was just ghastly, with a painfully artificial framing device, and after 200 pages I realized that I simply didn't give a fuck what happened to any of the characters.) I've finished Luan Ranzetta's "Yellow Inferno". I've finished The 120 Days Of Sodom. I've finished The Brothers Karamazov. I've even finished Don Quixote, which is THE WORST BOOK IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD. (Do not reply with "ooh, no, Don Quixote's really good" - it is THE WORST BOOK IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD and that's that.) I can finish pretty much ANYTHING.
But Strange & Norrell? Well, people (Mrs Brixtonbrood included) mentioned earlier that they they were drawn in by the style, the footnotes, and the English fairytales, and then pulled into the plot. Hmmm. I'll attack all of those "attractions", but not in turn.
1) Style. In which a late 20th/early 21st century writer pretends to be an early 19th century writer. Maybe she does it really well, I don't know, because my attention was always being dragged away by her deliberate, wilful mis-spelling.
The one that really pissed me off was that she always used "chuse" instead of "choose". Now, it might just be me, but the first time I saw this, it was like driving into a pothole. I stopped reading, and looked back at the word "chuse", and thought "What the fuck does that mean then?", and I put the book down, and was about to get the dictionary out, and then realized "Oh, hang on, she means "choose", oh, it's an archaism, oh, right," and I picked up the book again and restarted, and tried to ignore the image of Susanna Clarke going "Look, I used the old spelling of a word, because I'm writing this book as if it was actually written in the early 1800s, and that's how they'd have spelt it back then, aren't I clever?".
First time: "Oh, that's quite clever."
Fifth time: "Yes, Susanna, you're very clever, now stop it."
Tenth time: "FUCK. THE. FUCK. OFF."
Because it's lazy writing. It's like showing that a Welsh character is Welsh by having them say "look you" at the end of each line of dialogue. If you want me to think that your text is original early-1800s, then get the phrasing right, don't cheat by using archaic spellings. Ridiculously annoying.
2) But not as annoying as Mr Drawlight. Or "Fucking Mr Fucking Drawlight", as I started to think of him.
Serious question: why do otherwise competent writers choose to introduce characters who are so stupidly annoying that the only option is to refuse to continue with their work?
Obviously, the canonical example here is Joss Whedon. Clearly a capable writer (think of the "That would explain the slurred speech" line from the original Buffy The Vampire Slayer film), but I've been unable to watch anything he's done since then because of his desire to introduce unbelievably annoying characters (Cordelia, Faith, etc).
So with Mr Drawlight. I asked Mrs Brixtonbrood whether he got torn limb from limb by angry elves (oops, fairies), and she said no, and in view of that, I started to think "I don't want to bother with the rest of this book if it's going to have Mr Fucking Drawlight in it". And so to
3) Fairytales. I admit to something of a blindspot here, possibly because my parents never read me that sort of bedtime story (it was certainly all new to me when I started reading bedtime stories to Small and Tiny). It was probably this that led me to the viewpoint of "Oh whoopeedoo, we're in sodding Faerieland again; oh for fuck's sake". This did whatever the opposite of grabbing me is; kicking me hard in the kidneys and then pissing on my face, probably. Faery. For fuck's sake.
Pratchett did this so much better in Lords And Ladies.
4) And finally. The single reason why I put the book back on the shelf. The footnote at pages 42 to 47 of the second book, about the Master of Nottingham's daughter.
When I read this, I thought "What the fuck is this doing here? It's stilted, it's dull, it's just taking up space and wasting ink. Surely any editor would have taken this out?" Because, as far as I could see, it was just a badly written pastiche of an English folktale (and they're not exactly well-written to start with).
But clearly it was there for a reason, otherwise it would have been edited out. And the only reason I could see was because it, in some way, had some relevance to and somehow reflected the story that was going on around it (after all, it wasn't in there on merit).
And I couldn't see what relevance it had to what had happened before.
And that's when I realized that I had utterly missed the point of whatever had been going in the previous 300-odd pages.
And that's when I gave up.
My notes say "I hate it when a book makes me feel stupid."
It's not that it's slow (although, by God, it is). It's not even that nothing has happened (although, by God, nothing has). It's that five-page-long notice saying "You, Mr Brixtonbrood, Are A Moron" that finally made me gave up. As I've often imagined, everyone else is much smarter than me.
However, Mr Drawlight is still a twat.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-25 01:15 am (UTC)I found the alternate mythology a bore too, and started skipping faster and faster from page 400 onwards, so haven't a clear idea how it finishes.
I still think Clarke is a good writer, page by page its has an elegant style, and the gargoyle scene in York Minster is lovely, but she can't craft books.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-25 03:23 am (UTC)Change Your Life) but The Man In The High Castle and Wuthering Heights, both of which rank pretty highly on the addictometer? OK, for Wuthering Heights you have to put up with the whole double Cathy thing, and Heathcliffe's rather interminable wanderings around the moors in a "colourful" fashion, oh and not humming that Kate Bush song while you're at it, but atmosphere atmosphere atmosphere.
Not read Strange and Norrel. Guessing you're not a huge Little, Big fan.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-25 07:21 am (UTC)Yes, I found the use of archaic spelling to telegraph style rather annoying. It did seem Austen-esque to me, but the more I think about it, the more that's because the only Austen I've read for the first time in the last decade was a copy of Mansfield Park published in 1870 which, understandably, didn't have modernised spelling.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-25 11:28 am (UTC)we all get older and experience teaches us a) to recognise when we're not enjoying stuff and b) to recognise what feats of endurance are worthwhile in persevering with.
It's why people are (in general) happiest at around the age of 70 ;D
(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-11 03:13 am (UTC)I also hated Wuthering Heights, and I completely agree about the narrative device. Plus it has the most awkward, convoluted opening sentence in the history of fiction.
(Er, I realize I'm joining this party late, but I wandered over from