Book Reviews

What an astonishing thing a book is. It’s a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you’re inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic.

Carl Sagan said that, and it pretty much encapsulates my feelings on the subject…

Read all my book reviews here.

Or jump to a specific book:

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

White Fang by Jack London

The Winter’s Tale by William Shakespeare

The Narrow Road to the Deep North by Richard Flanagan

A Clash of Kings by George RR Martin

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer

The Odyssey by Homer

Beowulf

The Bible

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway

River of Time by Jon Swain

The Republic by Plato

Reading 4

Reading 1

Reading 2

Reading 3

Reading 5

6 responses to “Book Reviews

  1. So many books you’ve mentioned are my favorites, especially “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” “Lolita,” “White Fang,” “To Kill a Mockingbird,” “Hamlet” and “King Lear!”

    Oddly, I was just about to make a reference to “One Hundred Years of Solitude” on my blog, and went looking for the exact quote, “the last is being eaten by ants” — and came across your blog, for which I am so glad!

    I look forward to reading more of your reviews.

      • Hmm … since I read Tristram Shandy when I was a teenager, and have forgotten everything, except that it was rambling, I shall have to re-read that!
        Nice to talk about books!

      • Indeed! As the pioneer of experimental fiction Sterne certainly defined the meaning of the digressive style! Lots of parallels with Rushdie – noses, relatives, ramblings, whistling, a preoccupation with mortality and the inability to capture a life on paper, or in other words a nation in a pickle jar… It is an infuriating read, but perhaps that’s where its charm lies!

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