The Short History Of A Prince, Jane Hamilton
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1mirrani
I had a lot of trouble getting in to this book. The beginning seems haphazard and you don’t really have a plot point or any kind of character ideas at all. What’s going to happen? Who are the people you need to pay the most attention to? Why is a sore throat important enough to start with? I mean, it all becomes very clear, of course and in a way it’s perfect for drawing you in to the story later, but gosh was I frustrated. Also, though a chapter CLAIMS to be dated a certain month and year, there is so much jumping around that really you see a chapter is titled with a certain date, then you’re in a flashback right away, then you’re in “modern” times, but then you go back to high school for the entire rest of the chapter. So what was the point of the date in the first place? It was most frustrating and after a very short time I learned not to try and put anything together in any sort of order and to just go with the flow.
He wondered how they could do anything through their growth spurts but dream of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. They all looked as if they were sleeping while he tried to put it to them, obliquely, of course, that the shame Revrend Dimsdale experienced was probably not so far removed from the shame they felt within the confines of their own dark bedrooms. Or was shame a thing of the past now that a person could advertise his naughty deeds on television talk shows? p93
Actually an interesting discussion. /Is/ shame the same now as what it once was, especially since we’ve gone beyond the talk shows and into the internet?
On page 128 there was this somewhat massive recap of the ballet things, which I felt really wasn’t at all necessary. I could be totally wrong and it could have just been that I paused in the wrong place between my lunch break and when I picked the book up again, but boy did it annoy me having to bring that all up as if I hadn’t read about it.
She was delivering great comfort, comfort of the sort normally dispensed at the eleventh hour by fairy godmothers and deities. p134
A good line, but I worried it was far too gay for the gay character to be thinking, thrown in because of the stereotype and all, you know what I mean?
“It’s so strange to think that there are certain people you won’t ever come across in your life, that for your purposes they are already dead. p182
An interesting concept, actually. Very true, also. But it also isn’t really new, which I found kind of odd. I mean, why would I find it interesting if it was a common thing… Even my own life is getting twisted by this book that’s been through the blender. ;)
There was no echo in a sound like die. It was heavy, a real sinker. p196
I wonder at the historical thing about this skittishness with death. People die, it happens. Is the worry of mentioning it something that’s more emotional or a leftover something or other from way back in the part of history where etiquette was so exact that simply looking in the wrong direction at the wrong time could cause issues?
Read this line first…
A visit at the front door was an invasion, an assault upon the privacy and the sanctity of the McCloud home. Behind their front door, behind the white curtain that covered the glass, they were supposed to be safe from the neighborhood in which they lived.
Now read it with the previous line added in place before it…
She did not set foot in the house, except for the Christmas party, when she and Mr. Gamble came in the back, ate a cracker, had one cocktail and then retreated to their own breakfast nook. A visit at the front door was an invasion, an assault upon the privacy and the sanctity of the McCloud home. Behind their front door, behind the white curtain that covered the glass, they were supposed to be safe from the neighborhood in which they lived. p232
Changes things, doesn’t it? It’s especially changed since the woman in question is the type who stands at her window and looks /in/ at the neighbor’s house all the time, watching every movement and being involved in every detail that way.
He could smell Susan. The hall stank of every imaginable flower condensed into a few dark drops. It was nervy of her to presume that she could barge right in and overpower not only his mother’s fragile scent but the fragrance of the house itself. p236-7
Never really thought of too much perfume this way, but it’s true.
“What do you think happens to the--the love? I pitch it with all my might towards Lester. Breakfast, class, lunch, rehearsal, performance, dinner, sleep: I am radiating love for Lester. Other people may very well be hurling love my way and I don’t any use for it. Julian may be languishing down in New Orleans, dreaming of your arrival. What happens to the feeling once we’ve released it, do you think?” p292
Interesting concept here.
The book has an interesting sort of ending that goes with the interesting way of the book, so I guess it’s fitting that way. Still don’t know how I feel about it in the end. I was interested to find out what happened to people, but only out of a mild sort of curiosity, like you read a mystery to the end to make sure you are right about who is the guilty party or whatever. Didn't listen to music, don't know if any of the various works mentioned in the book (is /is/ about ballet, after all) would have enhanced my feelings one way or the other. I think it might have been more distracting than helpful.
He wondered how they could do anything through their growth spurts but dream of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. They all looked as if they were sleeping while he tried to put it to them, obliquely, of course, that the shame Revrend Dimsdale experienced was probably not so far removed from the shame they felt within the confines of their own dark bedrooms. Or was shame a thing of the past now that a person could advertise his naughty deeds on television talk shows? p93
Actually an interesting discussion. /Is/ shame the same now as what it once was, especially since we’ve gone beyond the talk shows and into the internet?
On page 128 there was this somewhat massive recap of the ballet things, which I felt really wasn’t at all necessary. I could be totally wrong and it could have just been that I paused in the wrong place between my lunch break and when I picked the book up again, but boy did it annoy me having to bring that all up as if I hadn’t read about it.
She was delivering great comfort, comfort of the sort normally dispensed at the eleventh hour by fairy godmothers and deities. p134
A good line, but I worried it was far too gay for the gay character to be thinking, thrown in because of the stereotype and all, you know what I mean?
“It’s so strange to think that there are certain people you won’t ever come across in your life, that for your purposes they are already dead. p182
An interesting concept, actually. Very true, also. But it also isn’t really new, which I found kind of odd. I mean, why would I find it interesting if it was a common thing… Even my own life is getting twisted by this book that’s been through the blender. ;)
There was no echo in a sound like die. It was heavy, a real sinker. p196
I wonder at the historical thing about this skittishness with death. People die, it happens. Is the worry of mentioning it something that’s more emotional or a leftover something or other from way back in the part of history where etiquette was so exact that simply looking in the wrong direction at the wrong time could cause issues?
Read this line first…
A visit at the front door was an invasion, an assault upon the privacy and the sanctity of the McCloud home. Behind their front door, behind the white curtain that covered the glass, they were supposed to be safe from the neighborhood in which they lived.
Now read it with the previous line added in place before it…
She did not set foot in the house, except for the Christmas party, when she and Mr. Gamble came in the back, ate a cracker, had one cocktail and then retreated to their own breakfast nook. A visit at the front door was an invasion, an assault upon the privacy and the sanctity of the McCloud home. Behind their front door, behind the white curtain that covered the glass, they were supposed to be safe from the neighborhood in which they lived. p232
Changes things, doesn’t it? It’s especially changed since the woman in question is the type who stands at her window and looks /in/ at the neighbor’s house all the time, watching every movement and being involved in every detail that way.
He could smell Susan. The hall stank of every imaginable flower condensed into a few dark drops. It was nervy of her to presume that she could barge right in and overpower not only his mother’s fragile scent but the fragrance of the house itself. p236-7
Never really thought of too much perfume this way, but it’s true.
“What do you think happens to the--the love? I pitch it with all my might towards Lester. Breakfast, class, lunch, rehearsal, performance, dinner, sleep: I am radiating love for Lester. Other people may very well be hurling love my way and I don’t any use for it. Julian may be languishing down in New Orleans, dreaming of your arrival. What happens to the feeling once we’ve released it, do you think?” p292
Interesting concept here.
The book has an interesting sort of ending that goes with the interesting way of the book, so I guess it’s fitting that way. Still don’t know how I feel about it in the end. I was interested to find out what happened to people, but only out of a mild sort of curiosity, like you read a mystery to the end to make sure you are right about who is the guilty party or whatever. Didn't listen to music, don't know if any of the various works mentioned in the book (is /is/ about ballet, after all) would have enhanced my feelings one way or the other. I think it might have been more distracting than helpful.
