From Penguin:
“In Paradise Lost Milton produced poem of epic scale, conjuring up a vast, awe-inspiring cosmos and ranging across huge tracts of space and time. And yet, in putting a charismatic Satan and naked Adam and Eve at the centre of this story, he also created an intensely human tragedy on the Fall of Man. Written when Milton was in his fifties – blind, bitterly disappointed by the Restoration and briefly in danger of execution – Paradise Lost’s apparent ambivalence towards authority has led to intense debate about whether it manages to ‘justify the ways of God to men’, or exposes the cruelty of Christianity.”

My thoughts:
I don’t think there’s any debate. Exquisite poetry defending the indefensible. This poem exposes not only the cruelty of Christianity, but its absurdity, its sanctification of misogyny, its glorification of servility, and its exaltation of ignorance. God the Father is malicious and cares only for his own ego. The Son is a bit of a cardboard cut out (which is okay I guess because he’s just a puppet of the Father). Adam is, well, as misogynist as his maker set him out to be. And Eve is a submissive, simpering slave (the one time she shows some independent thought, she brings God’s curses down on them all). Life before the “Fall” is pointless and stupid. Knowledge—its own intrinsic value and the value of seeking it are both denigrated by God, by the angels, and by Adam (of course the one who is desired to be most ignorant is Eve who is sent away or put to sleep whenever anything of import is discussed or related). The only character with any redeeming value whatsoever is Satan, a real tragic hero. We know from the start that his cause is futile and he’s bound to pay a dreadful price for his rebellion, but we can’t help but cheer him on as he fights tooth and claw for liberty and justice and against ignorance and subjugation. Not that I think Milton really intended that to be the case, but Satan is brilliant. Oh, and did I mention that the poetry is exquisite?

From the publisher:
“Visiting an idyllic German village, Werther, a sensitive young man, falls in love with sweet-natured Lotte. Though he realizes that Lotte is to marry Albert, he is unable to subdue his passion and his infatuation torments him to the point of despair. The first great ‘confessional’ novel, it draws both on Goethe’s own unrequited love for Charlotte Buff and on the death of a close friend. The book was an immediate success and a cult rapidly grew up around it, resulting in numerous copycat deaths as well as violent criticism and suppression for its apparent support of suicide. Goethe’s exploration of the mind of an artist at odds with society and ill-equipped to cope with life remains as poignant as when it was first written.”

My thoughts:
This little novella looms large over the nineteenth century, so I was keen to experience it for myself. I knew in advance that young Werther ends his own life over a star-crossed love and that his action inspired real life copycat suicides. I also knew he was held up as a kind of Romantic (note the capped ‘R’) ideal, with Sensitivity and Passion and a love of Nature. I thought it was kind of interesting in a historical sort of way, but it was difficult for me to quite take it seriously—to be so in love as to decide that life is no longer worth living? It’s just so over the top. Is that because we just don’t feel that strongly anymore? Perhaps this kind of situation is like a kind of religious fervour. As if falling in love like this was expected so that’s what he did? But then Goethe himself shook it off and went on with his life, so it’s hard to say. Throughout, I just wanted Charlotte, Werther, and Albert to throw off restraint and go for a nice, accommodating, polyamourous relationship. Am I a twenty-first century girl or what?

From the publisher:
“Mary Barton, the daughter of disillusioned trade unionist, rejects her working-class lover Jem Wilson in the hope of marrying Henry Carson, the mill owner’s son, and making a better life for herself and her father. But when Henry is shot down in the street and Jem becomes the main suspect, Mary finds herself painfully torn between the two men. Through Mary’s dilemma, and the moving portrayal of her father, the embittered and courageous activist John Barton, Mary Barton (1848) powerfully dramatizes the class divides of the ‘hungry forties’ as personal tragedy. In its social and political setting, it looks towards Elizabeth Gaskell’s great novels of the industrial revolution, in particular North and South.”

My thoughts:
This novel was a bit of a mixed bag for me. I started reading it at a time when I was looking for something fairly light-hearted. The murder element didn’t deter me because from the description it didn’t appear that we would get too attached to Mr. Carson before his untimely demise. I was, however, quite surprised to find nearly the first third of the book to be depressing and distressing as characters we’ve come to care about dropped off like flies, and all for the simple want of food, shelter, and adequate medical care (which alas, is still with us today). After the dismal beginning, however, the story followed along the lines I had initially been expecting and I ended up enjoying it quite a bit.

As a social commentary, I imagine it would have come across like gangbusters at the time, with an empathetic understanding of working class life and how intimate with utter poverty it really is. You wouldn’t find this in Jane Austen or, I think (I haven’t read ‘em all) George Eliot. And though Dickens often covers the same territory, his mechanism is satire rather than strict realism.

And then just for pleasure, we get a bit of a sensation novel in the last half, though it’s not as sensational as, say, a Wilkie Collins or R. D. Blackmore—Gaskell’s penchant for realism comes into play there too. A good novel for fans of nineteenth century literature (especially if you’re looking for something shorter than the typical Collins or Dickens).

From the back cover:
“Catch-22 is like no other novel. It has its own rationale, its own extraordinary character. It moves back and forth from hilarity to horror. It is outrageously funny and strangely affecting. It is totally original.

Set in the closing months of World War II in an American bomber squadron off Italy, Catch-22 is the story of a bombardier named Yossarian, who is frantic and furious because thousands of people he hasn’t even met keep trying to kill him. Catch-22 is a microcosm of the twentieth-century world as it might look to someone dangerously sane. It is a novel that lives and moves and grows with astonishing power and vitality—a masterpiece of our time.”

My thoughts:
This novel is undeniably a masterpiece. It is not only a commentary on the absurdity of war (and capitalism thrown in for good measure), not only an encapsulation of the entire 20th century Zeitgeist with all of its angst, humour, brutality, and tragedy, but a metaphor for human life itself. Absolutely brilliant with great characters, outrageously funny episodes, and a jumble of a timeline that works both to confuse and elucidate the action (how’s that for a paradox?). I loved every minute of this book, even when I cried. I listened to the audiobook version (read by Trevor White), which I would highly recommend, and I thought the novel was so fantastic that directly upon finishing it, I put it on my wishlist for a hard copy for my permanent collection. This deserves to be on the top ten list of 20th century novels for sure. But I’m not going to touch the sequel with a ten-foot pole. Some things are best left alone, and I get the feeling this is one of them.