Cindy’s Comments (group member since Apr 01, 2020)

Cindy’s comments from the The Obscure Reading Group group.

I'm a Dickens fangirl, so I loved it. It was great to be reunited with the Pickwick crew again--it's been years since I read that book. I especially enjoyed Chapter 5 (I know that technically belongs in the first thread) where Mr. Weller becomes worried that he has exceeded himself in complimenting the housekeeper. He informs his son that he is "always afeerd of inadwertent captiwation" and laments that he doesn't know how to make himself ugly or unpleasant to avoid this dreadful snare. On page 93, after catching himself "in the very act of smiling on the housekeeper, put a sudden constraint upon his countenance and looked sternly at the candle, with a determination not to captivate, himself, or encourage thoughts of captivating in others." His sincere concern over how irresistible he is to ladies is hilarious.

Cindy wrote: "Cindy, I felt Gissing's writing was more realistic and pessimistic than Dickens...."

I think Gissing did an excellent job of conveying the savagery and hopelessness of the existence of the extremely poor. While Dickens took us into the inside of debtors' prison and the slums peopled with pickpockets, thieves, and other unsavory characters, I never felt that crushing sense of hopelessness. I suppose that can be due to the fact that Dicken's protagonists often escape their drear surroundings, and also to the comic relief that he includes in some of the direst circumstances.

Almost everyone in The Nether World is fighting just to survive, and even when they believe they have a leg up or a chance, it doesn't pan out. Even Joseph Snowdon, who absconds with the inheritance he lucked into, loses it all and dies penniless. As mentioned before, only Pennyloaf ends up in a tolerable situation. For most, it is impossible to escape the web of poverty. I love Dickens, but I do feel that Gissing's grim take on the human condition is, unfortunately, more realistic.

Sara wrote: "Sara wrote: "I feel like he is actually a subtle villain here, just as manipulative as Clem & Mrs. P, but in a more socially acceptable patriarchal guise. Sure, he was personable and kind, but not a stellar parent/grandparent at all, just as self-serving as many of the more obviously selfish characters...."

I am very late to the party, but better late than never, right? I agree, Sara, that while Michael's intervention in Jane's life probably saved her, his intentions are to use her for his personal goals without a thought of what she wants or what would make her happy. Gissing even refers to his behavior as fanaticism when he really gets going on his grand plan for her. It is clear, after her pathetic plea to "let this cup pass from [her]" that his affection is dependent on her compliance. Poor Jane is the sacrificial lamb.

Both of the kind, more selfless people (Jane and Kirkwood) end up being taken advantage of by others and never achieving happiness.

Other than the focus on the plight of the poor and the injustice of the social systems, I did not detect much similarity to Dickens. Gissing is darker and more unrelenting with the misery. He definitely does not have Dickens' comedic touch! I did enjoy the book, though, and would like to read more of his work.

I also agree that the portrayal of the country as simplistic and pure versus the city as corrupt is a common trope. As Ken said, living a life more closely attuned to nature is seen as an attempt at spiritual reconnection and cleansing, becoming more aligned with the forces of nature. The city, with its teeming hordes and availability of vices, represents cynicism and hedonism.

Interestingly enough for your poll, Plateresca, my husband and I live in the Houston metro area (very urban) and my son, moved to Flagstaff, Arizona on his 18th birthday to live an outdoor life. He now lives in Oregon and hikes, camps, and skis to his heart's content. Meanwhile, his old parents are still living in the evil big city! Chances are, we'll retire to Oregon--we'd love nothing more than being able to enjoy those gorgeous views!

I really enjoyed this book. I felt so sorry for poor Lavretsky; both of his great loves end in loss. Personally, I found Liza’s piety uninteresting, but after the duplicitousness and immorality of Varvara, I can understand why it might be attractive to Lavretsky–she’s the antithesis of his shallow, pleasure-loving wife. I’m a little less clear on her attraction to him, other than again, he is the antithesis of the shallow, vain fop that her mother wants her to marry.

I alternately felt respect and exasperation for Lavretsky’s refusal to name Varvara’s crimes. I respected his adherence to his principles but REALLY wanted her outed, especially after she waltzes in and starts charming the pants off the more foolish characters. The reaction to Varvara’s appearance clearly delineates the more complex characters from the foolish. I loved the way Turgenev has her slide in (a la the Serpent in the Garden of Eden) to destroy Lavretsky’s happiness. She is silken malevolence; her every word and action is calculated and insincere.

The scene with Marya’s “intervention” with Lavretsky, advocating for his reconciliation with Varvara, is so funny! It makes me wonder if Jerry Springer has read this book; I can definitely see overtones of those talk shows in the book. And Marya’s determination to stick to her script, despite what is actually happening, is hilarious. She is committed to her role as relationship mediator and unwilling to have her dramatic moment stolen from her. I loved it when Lavretsky basically tells her to stick a sock in it!

The ending is sad but authentic. As others have noted, Liza’s decision to take the veil is both courageous and heartbreaking, as it definitively ends any hope Lavretsky has of ever being with her. Lavretsky, as always, accepts the hand that Fate has dealt him and continues on his stoic path, although we see that his heart remains true to Liza. His journey to the convent to catch a glimpse of her, and her muted response to his presence, is poignant and leaves me wondering: is such devotion to an unobtainable person a tribute to the endurance of love, or an indictment of it?

Kathleen wrote: "Hard to pin down Dostoevsky's personal thoughts, but since he's named Alyosha in the beginning as the hero, it seems he's trying to forge a middle way with him?..."

True, especially after learning the information about the loss of his son. I'm looking forward to catching up and seeing Alyosha's role expand. Up until now he has mostly been running around patching up and placating the others.

I just finished this second section and it is a lot to take in! I have enjoyed reading the comments and don't know how much I have to offer over the excellent points that have already been made. This section was such a juxtaposition of religious philosophies. First the Inquisitor's avowal of loyalty to Satan and repudiation of Christ, and the reasoning behind it. I agree with Ken that it boiled down to the overwhelming effects of freedom and man's inability to handle it. Satan's removal of free will from the table allows the church to take better control of the populace and supposedly makes man more comfortable with clear parameters fencing him in. This section is clearly critical of the Church and an argument against organized religion.

Then comes Father Zossima's chapters, and they are the opposite. He has devoted every fiber of his being to God and literally nothing else in life matters but worshiping and serving Him. His subjugation of self is extreme, and he forswears all creature comforts and pleasures. I was wondering as I read--which view does the author identify with, if either?

Although Dostoevsky critiques the Catholic church in the Inquisitor section, he also presents the religious order of Father Zossima as less than admirable. He introduces Father Ferapont, a respected monk know for his formidable powers of fasting, who is looked upon "as a great saint and ascetic, although they had no doubt that he was crazy" (158). His obsession with food and deprivation, not to mention his visions of devils and birds that speak to him and trees that turn into other shapes clearly undermine his "holiness."

Personally, I found both appalling. The cynical hypocrisy of the Inquisitor is deplorable, but the complete immersion of self into what is basically an unproven doctrine is also incomprehensible, to me. Having been raised in an extremely religious fundamentalist environment, my thinking is all skewed on the subject anyway, so this part really resonated with me.

To balance it out, we have Alyosha's family, led by the patriarch Karamazov, a self-described sensualist who, despite being able to spout Bible verses at will, spends his time satisfying his most base desires and intent only on carnal pleasure. His brothers, although a little more restrained, are not a lot better.

I'm sorry that I am so behind but I am determined to finish this book! I know that the conversation has moved on, but I hope my late entry will buy me a little grace. :)

I find Fyodor Pavlovitch to be a thoroughly repugnant character. He reminds me of my own grandfather, who also loved to be the center of attention, to make ridiculous unfounded accusations, and to stir the pot to get everyone riled up. Add to that the implication that Pavlovitch was the one who raped the disabled Lizaveta and nurses a lecherous passion for the beloved of his own son, and he is just contemptible.

The other characters are not really any more likable. Katerina Ivanovna's desperate clinging to Dmitri and her willingness to tolerate his cheating make her pathetic, while Grushenka seems to be a heartless gold-digger.

Alyosha is like those children who are raised by alcoholics and drug addicts. Their roles are reversed and the children become the adults, developing an overwhelming sense of responsibility for their parents that leads them to take care of and protect them with the selflessness of an actual parent. Alyosha's brothers, both older than him, all look to him to unravel the tangled skeins of their mismanaged affairs. They should be taking charge of their father and protecting their younger brother, not looking to him for answers.

My final thoughts are that I loved it. I have very little experience with "experimental" fiction. The only other one I can really think of that I've read is Ulysses, and I just could not appreciate it. I know there are quite a few (much more learned) people who revere it, and I can see what he was doing, but I did not enjoy it--at all. Compared to that, this one was a delight. I think it worked for me because once I realized that this is not a traditional novel/plot structure, it freed me just to enjoy his prose and insights. I stopped trying to tie it into a linear storyline and focused on the ideas he is expressing. Anyway, not every book works for everyone (one of Calvino's points) and this one just happened to work for me, big-time! :)

I found a couple of articles discussing it, one of which posits that the structure actually represents a history of critical theory. The other classes it as "the anti-novel that may be the greatest twentieth-century book ever written on the theme of readers and reading of fiction." Anyway, I thought I would include the links for anyone who is interested.

Dactyl Review

"Critical Theory Through If On a Winter's Night a Traveler"

I just finished it, and I am so glad that it was chosen! It has been on my tbr for such a long time, and I thoroughly enjoyed the reading. As Lois said, I definitely feel a sense of playfulness throughout, a tongue-in-cheek tone, by Calvino. It comes across to me, from beginning to end, as a celebration of everything to do with reading.

One quote that I marked (out of many!) is when he muses, "I would like to be able to write a book that is only an incipit, that maintains for its whole duration the potentiality of the beginning, the expectation still not focused on an object. But how could such a book be constructed? Would it break off after the first paragraph? Would the preliminaries be prolonged indefinitely? Would it set the beginning of one tale inside another, as in the Arabian Nights?" (173). I think he accomplished his goal, and masterfully!

One thought that occurred to me as I read was that the book is like one of those old carnival halls of mirrors, with each reflection containing yet another variation of all of the different aspects of readers and writers. He explores so many different issues connected to these two basic yet critical functions. English teachers are aware, when faced with the long list of curriculum standards that must be covered in their 50 minute class periods, of the enormity of the tasks concealed in the simple phrase "reading and writing." Calvino creates a web of intersecting ideas and issues that relate to and affects reading and writing, delving into them to expose the complexity that can lurk beneath the innocuousness.

Another thought I had when reading that was that Ermes Marana acted somewhat like a modern-day Tower of Babel, disrupting the ability of readers to bond with text and ultimately causing the authors to be unable to communicate with their readers. He leaves everyone wandering aimlessly, unable to connect in any meaningful way, each text banished to some nether region where it molders in obscurity, lost and unread.

Anyway, I know not everyone enjoyed it, but I loved it! I loved the part at the end where each reader analyzes how they personally approach reading, and also what he did with the titles of the different stories at the end. This was a home run for me! :)

I may be in the minority, but I love this book! I’m not sure why, but I just feel like Calvino is taking me, the reader, on a delightful romp, and I’m already planning to go back and annotate my book more thoroughly.

I was instantly charmed when I started reading. It seems like the spiral of texts is taking us down a delightful rabbit hole! My thought was that Calvino is exploring the multitude of ways that readers interact with stories and books. He starts with the physical: the foray into the bookshop to obtain the book, overcoming the emotional and intellectual pull of the other texts there. He discusses the various locations and positions that are most conducive to satisfactory reading. He delves into the physical construction of books with the printing and binding problems, as well as separating uncut pages to reveal the text within.

His first "story" dissects the way we process a story as we read: our expectations and assumptions, our predictions and reliance on common tropes. He goes on to address the impact of author origin and history, the fluidity and evolution of languages (both living and dead), and the vagaries of translations. Throughout, he is constantly evaluating and examining the essence of stories.

I'm just starting Chapter 6, but I am fascinated by this book so far. I feel like there are so many layers here--I'm looking forward to what everyone else will see that I have missed!

Ken wrote: "Szabo's insertion about the futures of some characters reminded me of authors who, at the very end of the book (this is also done in some movies), give you "this is what happened to this character"..."

I didn't really mind the updates on what happened to some of the characters later in life, but I wish she had waited until the end to share those with us. I know some people like to know the end because it allays anxiety, but I'm not one of them. When we're in the middle of a suspenseful arc of action and the author, in the middle of the scene, suddenly drops in the information that Gina later gets married and has children of her own, it was like a dash of cold water in the face of my suspense. I still wanted to know what happened, but the sense of urgency was gone. She did the same thing by suddenly adding in the information that Gina and Konig are friends later in life. Any possibility of Konig actually turning out to be something other than what I suspected died right then.

Carol wrote: "Jeremy, I think Konig had feelings for Mitzi."
Sue wrote: I think Konig had feelings of some sort for Mitzi, but they seemed to be mixed up so much in the Abigail work that it became difficult to separate out. And likewise for his feelings for Susanna. Was Mitzi right about Konig and Susanna or was she redirecting him to someone more suitable.

I think Konig was in love with Susanna, but it was certainly confusing since he kept telling her that he would never be with her and to leave him alone. He was a little too abrupt and harsh to be playing hard to get!

Mitsi tells Susanna as she's turning to leave that there's nothing going on between herself and Konig, and that he has been in love with Susanna for years. Once the soldiers burst in and Susanna tells her first lies, everything has changed. Mitsi tells Susanna, "He won't have any more dark secrets to tell you when you are married." Then Konig reveals the reason he has so adamantly rejected Susanna when he tells her, "Sister Susanna was not let into the secret because Abigail loved her far too much and had done so for far too long. She was afraid to put her in the same danger, and afraid too of her own feelings." Konig was pushing her away for the same reason Gina's father had distanced himself from her--for her own protection. Konig knew how much danger he was courting with his double life--he could be found out at any time. He didn't want to drag Susanna into that, nor to have her used against him as Gina's father's enemies were trying to use Gina. But now that Susanna has found his secret out and has thrown in her lot with him by lying to the soldiers, there is no reason for them to be apart.

I enjoyed the story and was very engaged in the storyline. I still feel like it is more YA in the tone, but YA today tackles a wide variety of weighty topics, so a YA classification does not detract from the seriousness of the storyline.

I am enjoying the story, as well. I know I took up for the girls' shunning of Gina in the last thread, but as teenagers often do, they pushed it too far in this section! Gina had my sympathy as they moved from isolation to emotional torture. It did end rather abruptly, but as Angela pointed out, teenage girls are mercurial creatures. I tell you what is unrealistic--that these 15-year-olds could be locked up together day in and day out with no drama between them? No nitpicking or backstabbing? No arguing or fault-finding? Now that's unrealistic!

I looked at your spoiler, Ken, and completely agree with you. I think the second choice is a long shot, but I can't even imagine it NOT being the first choice. Maybe that person's obviousness actually makes it a red herring, but if that were the case, I would think the actual culprit would be someone even less likely than your second choice. I did notice that it was pointed out that (view spoiler)[Mitsi Horn has access to the grounds whenever she wants (hide spoiler)], and I found that to be a somewhat pointed detail to include.

She kind of buried us in an avalanche of foreshadowing there at the end, didn't she? We find out that Gina's father dies in a prison camp, and that her location is actually exposed to the enemy by Banki, another student, in an event that hasn't happened yet (I don't believe?). Gina obviously survives the war and goes on to have a family of her own. For me, that actually deflates a lot of the suspense. The only mystery left is to find the identity of Abigail!

This book does have the YA vibe for me, but that’s not a problem. I read quite a bit of YA for my professional life and am enjoying this one.

This may be unpopular opinion time, but I don’t really blame the other students for their treatment of Gina. As adults, we know her outburst, while partially because she’s a bit spoiled and accustomed to a more sophisticated lifestyle than the others, is also an acting-out due to her loneliness and feelings of displacement. The other students, though, are also children. All they know is that they welcomed Gina with open arms only to have her turn on them and betray one of their most dear and closely-guarded secrets. A big reason she is shunned is because she’s not only disliked, but she’s untrustworthy. These kids have so few pleasures—Gina’s endangering of their silly but harmless marriage game was a huge deal to them. If they did forgive her and accept her back into the fold, what else would she cost them the next time she is out of sorts?

I do think the school is crazy strict! They can’t even wear their own underwear or pajamas? They cut her hair off? She can’t keep pictures of her family? And listening in on phone calls in such a threatening manner! It’s like military school for girls!

I was very invested in Gina's escape attempt and felt all of her anguish at the moment and method of being foiled. So close!!

Ken wrote: "I used to be a purist about one book at a time, too. It seems Goodreads has cured me of that problem. ..."

I'm the same! I used to be horrified at the idea of trying to read multiple books at the same time, but that was before Goodreads. Once I discovered the groups on Goodreads, I may have gone a little overboard . . . :) Now that I'm at home where my teaching duties are limited, and my grad school classes are over for the moment, I've gone a little crazy with the groups and am reading 5 simultaneously! I'm finishing one up this week, so that will leave an open slot for Abigail. Looking forward to it!

Hello! I'm Cindy, and I hail from Houston, TX. I just discovered that Ken invited me to the reading of Jude and I completely missed it! I'm disappointed about that but will be happy to join in for the June reading. Thanks for the invite, Ken! I look forward to whatever is next on the agenda.