Not Your Average Assigned Reading: 3 Awesome Books from Your School Days

There is nothing like compulsory reading to instantly put you off any form of literature. Something about the fact that you're forced to do it, makes even interesting, easy or engaging books seem to drag on forever. However, there are some books out there on student reading lists that defy even the great pressure of required reading – those books that you remember long into adulthood as that one novel you actually enjoyed in high school.

Whether you've read these in your school days or have yet to tick it off your list of must-read classics, these three required reads are worth a second look.

1. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Sweet and short with a moral message to boot. Having read this as an adult rather than a pre-teen like most people, I can assure everyone that it is worth the read no matter your age. It may be written from the perspective of the young girl Scout, but the themes it deals with, such as individuality and community, race, family and ethics are very much engaging for adults as well. With the beautiful new 50th Anniversary Edition out, and the newly discovered Harper Lee novel Go Set a Watchmen (which is somewhat of a sequel to Mockingbird) coming out in the summer, there is no better time than now to rediscover this classic.

You can purchase the book here.

Take a look at the GoodReads reviews here.

2. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

Despite its title, many student do not have 'great expectations' when it comes to this classic Dickens novel. Dickens gets a bad rap for being a bit to sickly-sweet in his rags-to-riches stories of orphans and cast-aways, yet this novel is distinctly different. Aside from the seemingly compulsory Dickensian poor-boy main character, there are some truly great (and truly creepy) supporting characters. Miss Havisham for example, is one of those characters that will forever be etched in your mind once you read the evocative description of this spiteful old lady – no wonder someone decided to write a whole novel about her back-story!

You can purchase the book here.

Take a look at the GoodReads reviews here.

3. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

This book hardly needs introduction, as the new Baz Luhrman movie and the plethora of 20's/Gatsby-themed parties that followed provided quite the promotion for this classic American novel. But despite it's somewhat clichéd status, there is real depth in this book. The florid prose style of F. Scott Fitzgerald will surely motivate even the most un-literary to undertake some kind of creative writing endeavor, while the decadence of the era (though presented in a negative light) will provide for some light-hearted indulgence.

You can purchase the book here.

Take a look at the GoodReads reviews here.

Book Review: I, Claudius by Robert Graves

Having studied Greek and Roman literature for an entire term, I have been craving some fiction that could transport me to these times – albeit without the ancient language or dry non-fiction accounts. Yet as someone who has not delved into much historical fiction before, I found it incredibly difficult to find a somewhat credible, yet entertaining read. Then a friend suggested I read the classic piece of historical fiction: I, Claudius by Robert Graves.

The title is somewhat deceptive, as the story does not actually revolve around the rule of Claudius, but rather recounts the events leading up to his accession to the Roman throne, through his perspective. Claudius is an interesting choice for a narrator: as a stammering cripple, he’s no ordinary fictional hero. I’d like to say that his physical hindrances are made up for by a clear moral integrity, but this is not entirely the case. Within the context of his family, Claudius is quite sane, smart and well, a lot nicer then the rest. But, perhaps wisely, he never really attempts to act out against the inequalities and brutalities that surround him on a day-to-day basis. He is, rather, a reclusive historian, recording the events around him dispassionately. Perhaps it would have been slightly incongruous within the setting, to have a moralizing hero, amidst the excesses and grotesque habits of the royal family. Graves’ choice of narration – a contemporaneous mock first-person history – is also a clever one, as Claudius never has to go into minute detail, describing the day-to-day lives of his subjects. His portrait is made with broad brushstrokes, with wide leaps in narrative and time, allowing Graves to take great liberties with history.

Overall, the narrative is engaging, despite becoming repetitively brutal and nonsensical towards the end. There seems to be no respite from the evils of the all-powerful, over-privileged ruling class, as the novel continually ups its perverse ante. Starting with the rule of Augustus and the behind-the-scenes machinations of his wife Livia, which already raise eyebrows and provide conflict, the novel only descends further into debauchery through the rule of Tiberius, and finally crazy Caligula. The latter is such a ridiculously unjust and cruel ruler, that these passages almost seem comic. Caligula is presented as a man who has forever stayed in the happy years of his childhood, playing pretend by acting like a God and waging pretend-wars against the sea. Yet this childlike manner is coupled with an immense bloodthirst and unchecked power, which together create the ultimate villain. The physically weak, but mentally sharp Claudius does not really provide an antithesis to this obscene villainy, yet we empathize with him and cheer him on in his attempts to evade death.

After an entire novel devoted to villains, it remains to be seen whether the sequel to I, Claudius provides a proportionate counterpoint in the hero, Claudius.

Buy the book online here. 

See other reviews of the book on Goodreads. 

TV Review: The Good Wife - Mind's Eye (Season 6 Episode 14)

The Good Wife’s departure from its usual format this week comes as breath of fresh air. With Cary Agos’ recent drug case storyline closed, the only major plotline left for the second half of the season is Alicia’s campaign to become States Attorney. Although this storyline has provided with an interesting array of new characters (Johnny Elfman a surprising new love interest and Mr. Gold’s hilarious daughter) as well as more proof of Alicia’s kick-ass woman-on-top achievements and potential, it seems to have somewhat run its course. And that’s where this slow-burning, stream-of-consciousness episode comes in.

For a cable TV drama to spend an entire episode without developing major plot points or leaving us with tantalizing cliffhangers is somewhat unusual ­– the likes of HBO and ACM, as well as shows like House of Cards, releasing 13 episodes at once, have more of a luxury to pace their shows as they like, without regard to pesky Nielsen ratings. Yet The Good Wife manages to pull of an engaging hour of television, despite its format constraints.

The episode takes place mostly within Alicia’s apartment and on the streets of Chicago as she takes a short walk – yet through her rambling mind, we see almost all of her friends, family and lovers on display, as puppets that enact her thought-processes, fears and fantasies. This gimmick is distinctly reminiscent of another TV show centered on the practice of law – Ally McBeal – and it is similarly exploited for comedic effect, but somehow remains less annoying, as it eschews the use of the simple-minded special effects of the 90’s. The sequence when Alicia walks on the street listening to her iPod as her thoughts correspond with the music is brilliant and simply fun TV – who can’t relate to being under the influence of a particularly upbeat or melancholy tune? Meanwhile, her apprehensive fantasies regarding Grace and Zach provide some of the most hilarious images of the show – Grace sniffing glue while pregnant and wearing scary make-up and Zach sitting on a park bench as a homeless boy. It's also quite possibly a realistic representation of the way parents jump to conclusions when it comes to their kids. Her mind also quickly plays a game of chess between renowned atheist Richard Dawkins (represented by an actor) and Grace's pastor – showcasing the intellectual and moral depth in Alicia's character. 

Yet the only problem with an entire episode focused on Alicia, and the potential for the rest of the season to focus solely on her race for States Attorney (and possible inauguration), is that the show seems to leave behind some of its best characters. After a somewhat weak storyline, Cary Agos has taken a backseat, while Diane Lockhart has been reduced to occasionally fretfully asking Alicia if she’s coming into the office. The characters Kalinda Sharma and Lemond Bishop seem to have been pushed into a side-plot that’s going nowhere, while promising characters such as the lawyer portrayed by Taye Diggs (he wasn’t even around long enough for me to remember his name) have been completely neglected. That’s not to say that more office-moving firm-merging shenanigans, or shocking character-deaths would be preferable, but these characters are great, and the dilution of the show with many others has perhaps been to their detriment.

Overall, this episode showed promise and inventiveness – hopefully this will be extended to the other characters on the show, as the narrative arcs balance out in the rest of the season.

[This post was written on March 9th, and published on March 26th]

Book Review: Mr. Rosenblum's List by Natasha Solomons

Mr. Rosenblum's List has been working on my mind for some time, but I couldn't quite commit to reading it. It's one of those strange cases, when you read a novel by an author, and love it so much, that you know reading any of their other works would inevitably lead to disappointment. I read The Novel in the Viola (or The House at Tyneford) a while back, and it instantly became one of my favorites. Could any of Natasha Solomons' other novels measure up? In short, the answer is yes.

Mr. Rosenblum's List seemingly has a similar set-up to The Novel in the Viola: European Jewish refugee travels to England at the dawn of WWII, and deals with displacement and homesickness while adapting to the English way of life. This short description may encapsulate the core issue at the heart of both novels yet they couldn't be more different. The Novel and the Viola is what is often called a 'big house novel', centered around the idyllic manor house of a British family, and could also loosely be termed as a romance. While these descriptions do not do this wonderful book justice, they do differentiate it greatly from Mr. Rosenblum's List.

The main characters of the book, Jack and Sadie Rosenblum, are an aging couple, long past their days of romance and excitement - yet their relationship and the difficulty of connecting to each other after decades spent side by side, is real in a way that no romance novel can truly be. The difference in attitude towards their new country of residence is at the core of the novel's conflict: is assimilation equal to forgetting? While Jack endeavors to live very much in the now and tomorrow, Sadie is stuck in the past - each resenting the other for their way of coping. While I initially very much agreed with Jack's can-do attitude, as the novel progressed, I developed a deeper sympathy towards Sadie. Solomons built on the layers of her past and her character, like the layers of the Baumtorte she bakes in the book (which also made me crave previously unknown German baked goods). Themes of remembrance were also fittingly combined with aspects of the Jewish religion, which are very much about honoring the past and cherishing age-old customs. 

As a foreigner living in England, the themes of displacement and alienation in this novel really hit home for me, while I greatly enjoyed the beautiful descriptions of the Dorset scenery, which I had come to love in The Novel in the Viola. 

Buy the book online here.

Visit Natasha Solomons' website here.

Review: Oedipus and Antigone

Cred: Johannes Hjorth

I recently had the opportunity to review the Cambridge University Amateur Dramatic Club's performance of Oedipus and Antigone for The Cambridge Student.

You can read the article here!

The Book Cover Debate

Last week I was asked to argue 'against' the importance of book covers for an article in The Cambridge Student. This seemed to be a difficult task at first, as I actually quite enjoy purchasing books with pretty covers, and collect series that are especially beautiful (e.g. Penguin Clothbound Classics) - yet I found that there were some convincing points on both sides.

Here is the full article, with my 'against' unfairly outnumbered by 'fors'.

And here is an article about the controversial Roald Dahl book cover that started this whole debate.

Review: Much Ado About Nothing at the ADC

I recently had the opportunity to review the Cambridge American Stage Tour's performance of Much Ado About Nothing for The Cambridge Student.

You can read the article here!