Bloom Books

I read this book because it was on the reading list at George Wythe University. I loved this book because even though I wasn't familiar with baseball or Jewish religions, I could easily follow the plot and enjoy the strong characters, friendship and parenting styles behind the scenes.

Danny and Reuven transformed strong hostility into friendship, which was amazing! How Danny was acting at the baseball game and his seemingly intentional injury on Reuven's eye would have been unpardonable. It wasn't intentional and Danny didn't even know why he wanted to kill Reuven. He gathered his courage and went to apologize to Reuven. It was of course a shock to Reuven, but with his father's kind guidance, Reuven developed listening ears not only to Danny but Danny's father later on.

Danny's father and Reuven's father were both Jewish, but they had a totally different approach to find a meaning on the death of six million Jewish people. They both deeply loved those Jewish and wanted to do the best for them. Since Danny's father was in a very visibly respected position in his neighborhood, I was wondering if Danny's father was going to win the battle but it wasn't so. Reuven's father won more support by publishing his opinions and making public speeches. I myself should be more involved in the government, so they were good examples to me, no matter what the result, to fight for our beliefs.

I didn't know much difference between "mind" and "soul" until I read this book, but the difference was a huge deal. Danny, an heir to his father's rabbinic position, has a brilliant mind with photographic memory, but not a soul to understand other people's anguish. Danny does not want to and cannot be a rabbi without a soul. But because of his father's intensive Torah education, Danny was able to become a tzaddik in the world, whatever he chose as an occupation.

There was a constant criticism on Reb Saunders' way of raising Danny, but I wonder if Danny would have chosen to be a rabbi if he was raised by Reuven's father. As a parent, I do believe that parenting matters, but I wonder if things happen just because, like a fate.

Like I said, characters in this book are very strong. I do not know personally anybody who is like a character in this book. Maybe Danny's mother and sister, maybe. I know now that I cannot stereotype Jewish people anymore.

Since the description of everything was very intense, I was worried that the author was going to describe Reuven's injury intensely, but thank goodness, it was pretty much omitted out and I was not grossed out. I thought this book was very focused on emotions and very much in style ;)

Over all, I was constantly entertained and educated throughout this book. I recommend this book with 5 stars.

I absolutely loved this book. I had to read it for my class, but I wanted to read it again the second I got done. It was the first book that I read that I got emotional about. I really recommend this book.

my book came today, and it looked perfect EXCEPT the top right corner had signs of wear and possible usage. Along the whole top on the back half, it's black and some of the pages are worn down like maybe it touched a sander for a second. Overall great book great shipping, just slight damage!

This book was amongst one of the very best books i have ever read. I honestly must say this books looks so well into the boys lives. The Choosen is amazingly insightful and Chaim Potok just has an amazing way with words. If you're looking for a book that will keep you drawn into the story, this is it. You will want to read it a million times.

The Chosen is a book that will, not only produce a full, rich, exhilarating experience, but stays with you for quite some time. There can be no doubt that this book, along with its author have reached the pinnacle of the literary world and achieved what few books can: Masterpiece. The book is set in Brooklyn and the premis is of two young boys who have traveled very different roads, who have seen life through very different views, come together at a baseball game where these two unlikely souls form a close friendship that lasts a life-time and shapes their path toward manhood. The time is set just prior to WWII and Reuven and Danny are Orthodox Jews who will capture your hearts as Chaim Potok pens his masterpiece. This is definetly one book that should find a home on everyone's must read list.

This is good book for a summary of "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" by Maya Angelou that gives the characters and events of the reading for study and research that one could find any given chapter to support the ideas for an essay.

Maya Angelou's I know why the caged bird sings is the type of book that people who love to read will enjoy. The book follows Angelou through her early years, mostly spent with you grandmother who ran a local store. More than an auto-biography. Its Angelou's words, her presence that really reaches out and grabs you. Through all her hardships and obstacles in life she was able to overcome them and thrive. Maya Angelou is an fantastic writer who so easily connects with the heart and souls of her readers. Truly an enjoyable experience.

This is another autobiography by Maya Angelou.

Here, she tells of the hardships she experienced in growin up: her parent's divorce, being sent to live with their grandmother in a small, Arkansas town and its racism, sexual abuse and more emotional scarring.

Eventually, Maya finds a father figure and when better things began to happen to her, she started to find her voice.

This is honest and gripping...

We are the members of the South Mill Young Readers Book Club located in Conyers, Georgia. We are in the thirteen year old age bracket and thought it would be challenging to attempt to read and understand this story. As a result of our reading, we rate the book as follows:

Creativity - B+
Enjoyment - A+
Price - B+

We would recommend this book to others in our age group to read it.

Typed by Book Club Instructor: mwg

This book provides well-written insight into growing up as a black child during the Depression. Maya Angelou is wonderful with her use of words and imagery. I was greatly reminded of my own childhood and what being a kid really meant. Written in first person, she addresses childhood fears, respect for adults and growing up with such tangible details that she could be her eight-year-old self again.

Angelou's insights into the African-American way of life and religion during a time of national change range from tender to comical. She speaks warmly of her love for her brother and her frustration with the young white girls. It is sweet to see the growing up process taking affect and the experiences of youth shaping her character.

I am somewhat relieved that we were not permitted to read this book back in my high school literature class where many parents were opposed to it. I fear it would have caught me off guard in many respects. Many of the sexual themes running throughout the book are quite heavy and discussed in detail. Both the subjects of rape and teen pregnancy are covered and sex in general is frequently alluded to.

Though I do perceive this as a lovely piece of literature, I would be cautious in offering it to teens and others who may be unprepared for its impact.

I agree with mr. niceguy. What is with McCarthy and his excess use of word 'and'? Admittedly, the word 'and' is very important in the English language, however, excessive use of this word is outrageously ignorant, not to mention very distracting? You hear 'and'quite a bit in everyday speech, I admit. But no one really use 'and' like a gazillion times in one sentence, like McCarthy attempts in all of his books, not just in 'All the Pretty Horses'. The first McCarthy's book that I read is 'The Road'and I have to say, it wasn't a bad read, although not very original. Nevertheless, I read on to his other books and it was uncanny how much he tries to be Hemingway, except he does not use the apostrophe for a word like 'didn't' (he writes didnt, how about a good typewriter huh?) nor does he use the quotation marks, just to be original I guess. But hardly, this guy is a hack. I love Hemingway and I appreciate his use of the word 'and' in his writing. This guy is no Hemingway. He just tries too hard to be the great Hemingway and he uses a lot more 'and' than he should. Anyone who reads and loves this guy, I'm sorry to say, is just not willing to admit that, deep down, this guy is untalented, unoriginal, and a hack of Hemingway at best. I would puke, yes puke, if they are stupid enough to award him the Nobel Prize. Well, they did give him the Pulitzer for a book about nothing more than a man, a boy, and a shopping cart with one bad wheel, " The Road" I admit is not a bad read, but for crying out loud, not something deserving of a Pulitzer Prize?

'All the Pretty Horses' is a very well written saga of a teenage boy from Texas, circa 1940s, wandering off down to Mexico with his buddy. Both guys are horsemen. Their Mexican adventure turns sour very quickly and they are then thrust into a mix of love, death and everything in between. The author's prose and characterizations are perfect. The only reason I don't give this book five stars is because I found the heavy use of Spanish dialogue to be very distracting. Although oftentimes one can get the gist of what was being said, too many times I was left puzzled. Yes, the use of Spanish did add quite a bit to the feel of the story. I think it would have been helpful if the author supplied translations (in footnotes, for example).


Bottom line: quite an amazing story, .. and I don't even like horses. Recommended.

I really enjoyed this novel, although it's probably more highly praised than it deserves to be. You can tell its serious literature because of the general lack of punctuation and unconventional composition. McCarthy's writing style is likely to be off-putting to some, but there is a lot to like about this novel. While novels that are branded (rightly or wrongly) as works of serious literature generally have something to say, they often don't have a story to tell. This is something that I really appreciate about McCarthy as an author. There are issues and themes that he clearly wants to explore in his fiction, but he builds his novels (at least the one's I've read) on the foundation of a compelling story.

Ultimately, the theme of this novel reminded me a lot of No Country for Old Men. From my perspective, both novels are essentially about how the world (or at least the Country) is changing and how futile it can be for one man to resist it. In All the Pretty Horses, John Grady Cole romanticizes the cowboy era, a way of life that is fading away, like the setting sun. He stubbornly refuses to compromise his world view, speaking plainly and honestly, doing what he feels is right no matter what the cost, and standing up for what he believes in. Needless to say, this kind of integrity comes with a price and Cole, and his companions suffer greatly for these choices.

McCarthy's prose is at times stark, at times gorgeously realized. Descriptions of the harsh land and vivid sunsets are, at times, quite astonishing. But it is the dialogue in this novel that is especially sharp and insightful. McCarthy draws obvious contrasts between the straight-forward words of John Grady Cole and characters who engage him in philosophical discussions, speaking with eloquence and manipulating language. Some of the best dialogue occurs between Cole and the great aunt of the girl he loves. These passages are worth reading again and again.

I do have a few complaints though. One definite shortcoming is the romance in the story. The character of Alejandra is superficial at best and the entire romance feels a little too contrived. My other complaint might sound strange but I found the action in the final pages of the novel, while compelling, actually held the novel back a little. In the end, the action takes over the final pages of the novel and reflection on the larger issues and themes become secondary. While the pages turn quickly as Cole engages in shootouts and a race across the Mexican badlands, the strength of this novel comes in subtler forms; in the dialogue and ruminations about fate and religion. It's as if the novel abruptly switches gears. While on some level I enjoyed the pacing at the end, I was left with a sense that much of the story's potential had been sacrificed.

McCarthy is fast becoming one of my favorite authors. All the Pretty Horses is not a perfect novel, and perhaps not worthy of all the aclaim it has received, but its well worth reading. 4 1/2 stars.

McCarthy is a great writer, and this a great American novel. The novel is conventionally plotted and very readable. Like "The Road", it is a book that one can love; it does not require the effort that the novels of writers like Pynchon or Dellilo do, nor does it tax the reader's patience. Reader-friendly fiction is a good thing, and the novel's accessability makes it no less literary or substantial.

McCarthy's prose is breathtaking. His descriptions of the landscape, his dialogue (including dialogue between the American hero and a variety of Mexican characters) is flawless, and every now and again McCarthy will deliver lines with the force of a shot to the solar plexus. Literary critics compare him to Faulkner, though sometimes he sounds like Hemingway. It is amazing that McCarthy could be compared to two such different writers. But he does have elements of both, and is a great stylist in his own right. I must say that McCarthy moves me in a way that Faulkner never did.

The protagonist, John Grady Cole, and his sidekick Rawlins are two very appealing characters. Cole's Mexican lover and her family are also complex and ultimately very appealing characters. These may well be the most lovable characters in McCarthy's fiction. This is part of what makes this book so appealing.

McCarthy is a Pulitzer-prize and even Nobel-prize caliber writer because he struggles with ultimate themes. The book is more than a coming of age novel, though for that genre I think it is much better than "The Catcher in the Rye", "A Separate Peace", or "Rule of the Bone." I see the youth of the protagonist as a good device for placing the individual in his proper context vis a vis nature and human society. The individual is small and insignificant compared to nature, and even humanity seems dwarfed in McCarthy's view. Cole struggles to meet his basic needs -- love, craft, survival -- in the face of a hostile world and alien culture.

Most striking is Cole's desire to do the right thing. Ethics seems almost quixotic and comic in the face of the sheer ruthlessness of the natural and man-made forces arrayed against the individual. Cole's decision to go back to his tormentors and reclaim his property is remarkably foolish and self-destructive, but somehow necessary and appealing. In a nice touch at the end of the novel, Cole goes to an American judge for judgment and validation. Ultimately, he's his own harshest critic.

Given Cole's appeal, I find the book to be ultimately positive and humanist in outlook, though perhaps Mr. McCarthy would snicker at this sentiment.

This book is a masterpiece.

Sometime in the 1940s, John Grady Cole and Lacey Rawlins, two Texan teens, head off to Mexico on horseback. Their journey is one of laughter and horror, as these two boys are forced to grow up fast and hard.

That's about the best I can give you for a plot summary. It's amazing that "All the Pretty Horses" runs just over 300 pages. It feels more epic in nature. It IS epic, I suppose; just a short one. McCarthy's prose is as rich and vibrant as ever, though it's a bit more restrained here than in other of his works--I can see why this book is among his more commercially successful novels. Indeed, it's an odd companion to his other great Western piece, "Blood Meridian" (which is arguably a superior book; but then, that's like asking which gold medal shines brighter--there's just no reason to contrast two great literary works). Perhaps this makes "All the Pretty Horses" a good starting point for those interested in reading McCarthy's novels (I also recommend "No Country For Old Men," as it is even leaner and than "Horses"). That's not to say, though, that "All the Pretty Horses" doesn't stand up to the rest of McCarthy's catalogue--it does, admirably so. Cole is an interesting and engaging protagonist, and the way McCarthy switches from humorous scenes to tragic ones reflects the patterns of daily life. "Horses" is an amazing, enriching novel, and Cormac McCarthy is without a doubt one of the best writers/storytellers out there today. They don't call his novels "classics" for nothing.

There's a reference in "White Noise" to an Instamatic camera. There's a reference to station wagons. There are one or two other commercial product artifacts in "White Noise" but this is a book that could have been published today with very few edits. (And perhaps one addition--the J.A.K. Gladney family would no doubt be talking about the information they were getting from the Web as the "airborne toxic event" bore down on their town.)

But "White Noise" is timeless. I read it as the October 2008 Wall Street meltdown went from worse to horrendous and I marveled at out DeLillo captured the essence of how we react to fear. Having just read "Falling Man," I was struck by the common themes of displacement, dread and, of course, death.

"All plots to tend move deathwards" is line from early on in "White Noise" and of course this book follows that assertion--and deals with death, in the end, in uproarious fashion.

What DeLillo does so well in "White Noise" is embed the characters and plot with low-grade paranoia. It's grinding and it's ever-present. Weaving in and out of the Gladney's life are "the sub-literal drone of maintenance systems," burnt toast as a "treasured scent" to some, flavorless packaging, orange cheese, "vaguely defined food," bad posture, and the "sad, numb shuffle" of footsteps. Even the mysterious "Mr. Gray" is, of course, "Mr. Gray."

More than anything, "White Noise" left me thinking about how we react in a crisis, how we get our information as the crisis unfolds, and how our predispositions to be fearful plays a role in what we do and how we behave.

There's a long conversation near the end of "White Noise" (those looking for an action sequence at the end will be rewarded, but they need to make it through this interesting exchange) about the pros and cons of death. For those who don't like long, philosophical exchanges to halt the march to the plot's final turning points, you might steer clear of "White Noise." Those who don't mind some thinking and pondering on the road to the "move deathwards," you might find "White Noise" to be a treat, even a quarter-century (almost) since it first made waves.

This book was amazing. I'm only giving it 4 out of five stars because you need to be a fairly well read, a very literate person to understand and read, to truly enjoy the genius that Delillo portrays. It was wonderful. I found myself sad at parts, shocked at others, but mostly just incredibly interested at how Delillo is able to grab that part of life that we all see but don't acknowledge.

I had to read this book for my contemporary literature class and it was horrible. It has good ideas and themes for a literature class if you look at it from that perspective but as a book it lacks everything that a good book has. don't pick this one up for entertainment i can save you a ton of time by telling you what happens. he goes to the grocery store about 4 times, they go through an airborne toxic event in which they refuse to believe that it's happening and he goes crazy. there you go. whole book in one sentence. hope this helps

Consumerism is all around us. See? Here are some random brand names. It shapes and warps our personal lives. Late capitalism! Deeper meaning is lost! Booyah! The past is reduced to dehistoricized simulacra! Don't believe me? Check this out: Elvis. Hitler. Hitlerelvis! See? Are you taking notes?

Yes, Don, I see--how could I not?--but I'm afraid I'm not taking notes, because this is all Postmodern Theory 101. Everything in here is very basic, and DeLillo just plonks it down in front of us in a big, undigested mass. You might as well just read Fredric Jameson and be done with it. Other writers' works are informed by postmodern concepts; DeLillo's just tells you, right up-front, "look--here are some postmodern concepts," and then apparently expects you to look impressed, even though he doesn't do anything interesting or different with them. How many scenes do we need in shopping centers before we get the picture? A LOT, is apparently how many. Seriously: many times you will think, well, that's probably enough scenes in grocery stores, and then there'll be ANOTHER one. The book ENDS in one. DeLillo is absolutely OBSESSED with these scenes, and what is the sum total of their purpose? I'll tell you: there is consumerism; it has become a sacrament; we use it to hide/cover up death. Honest to god, that is ALL. Nothing deeper than that. And yet he seems to think it's the most profound thing in the world.

Take also the whole "Hitler Studies" conceit. Okay, so this is emblematic of how historicity works, or fails to work, in a postmodern environment. It's also (relatedly) how the main character tries to escape his fear of death. Fine. I'm tentatively interested. So tell us more: what exactly goes on in these classes? What leads students to major in this field? What further implications does it have for a postmodern world? Don't bother asking these questions, because you won't get an answer. DeLillo seems to believe that the basic germ of an idea is enough. But it's not. Barring any further development, it's just unbearably trite.

I suspect all of this would be a lot less bothersome if it weren't all so...unadorned. You needn't be a super-deep, probing, original thinker to write a successful novel in the postmodern idiom. It helps, of course, but even if your ideas themselves aren't all that clever, you can make them engaging by placing them in an interesting context or putting an unusual spin on them. DeLillo, sad to say, is simply not interested in doing anything of the kind. I honestly started to feel a kind of rage every time another random product name was inserted into the narrative: you think that's good enough? You think that's all you have to do? You actually, no joke, think you're being CLEVER? JAYSUS, but you are one smug, self-satisfied little git.

Does he make up for this by populating the novel with interesting people? No. DeLillo's characters never have conversations; they just endlessly circle around each other. Okay okay, they live in a world in which communication has broken down. Point taken. I do not see, however, how this justifies the fact that they all--from small children to highly educated professors--talk in exactly the same elliptical pseudo-profundities. Other writers are able to present this same sense of disconnection without making all the characters into identical sockpuppets for their oh-so-clever (but they AREN'T particularly clever!) ideas. One really gets the impression that DeLillo is using this idea of disconnection as an excuse to hide the fact that he's just lousy at writing character.

Does he make up for this with interesting plotting? Again, I hate to sound negative, but no. The book gets marginally less irritating after the first hundred pages, when things actually start HAPPENING, but the first section, which almost literally consists of nothing more than a LOT of "look at all this postmodernism! See? Isn't it postmodern? Here's some more! Postmodernism!" is pretty rough going. And even when it gets less bad, I still don't know that I'd quite call it "good." The narrative remains pretty enervating throughout. The climactic act of violence at the end is certainly the most vivid part of the book; the only time it breaks out of its self-satisfied inertness and feels at all human. Honestly, though, given the tone set by the rest of the novel, it seems more jarring and out-of-place than anything.

People allege that DeLillo is funny. I beg to differ. He has a few amusing lines here and there ("he regarded me with the grimly superior air of a combat veteran. Obviously he didn't think much of people whose complacent and overprotected lives did not allow for encounters with brain-dead rats"), but the large bulk of the "humor" in this book is pretty impoverished. The gruesomely precious, oh-so-clever-clever family conversations in particular are just about more than a man can bear.

And this lack of humor is really what it boils down to. I enjoy postmodern fiction because, even at its most reactionary (see Williams Gass and Gaddis), there's a sense of exhilaration to it: we've lost our historical narratives, meaning has been flattened, and we're all disconnected, but hey, we're also liberated! We can do whatever we want! Let's party in the ruins! DeLillo is the big exception to this. There is nothing exhilarating about White Noise. It's just a series of numbingly banal ideas, repeated over and over, with no engaging story or characters to support them.

One might argue: White Noise was written in 1985. "The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism" had just been published the previous year. Perhaps all of the novel's ideas didn't seem as self-evident then as they are now. I think it's the best argument you could make, but the fact remains, there are any number of writers more or less of DeLillo's generation--Pynchon, Barth, Coover, Doctorow, Reed, Bartheleme, and on and on and on--who, at this time and well before, were writing postmodern (broadly-defined) books that are smarter, more thought-provoking, and just plain more enjoyable than White Noise. In light of that, there's just no excuse for this kind of plodding mediocrity.

I'm sorry if this review seems insufferable, but I think an alternate viewpoint on DeLillo is sorely needed. I'm a postmodernist. I love the attendant literature. I have no instinctive revulsion here; quite the opposite, in fact: I WANT to like DeLillo, and I know some very smart people who do. But while I'd be all ears If someone could give me a cogent reason why I should join them, I haven't heard it yet. In the meantime, if you have to read him, I would recommend the opening section of Underworld (you can safely skip the rest of the novel unless you're a serious glutton for punishment). It's surprisingly smart, and suggests that the man isn't as talent-deficient as he seems, even if that talent doesn't translate very well into novels. Otherwise, I recommend the Psychedelic Furs song "Soap Commercial." It pretty much does what White Noise does, only much more succinctly. And it's a rockin' tune.

It is rare that I have a reaction of violent dislike to a book, and even books that I do not especially like I can find something respectable or interesting about the text, but I hate this book. This is the sort of literature that gets first-year philosophy majors to cream themselves because it is oh-so-insightful and important, and allows all the armchair intellectuals of the world to feel a little bit more superior because they assume the cleverness of Delillo's writing is lost on lesser minds. This isn't a novel, it's an extended postmodern manifesto that exposes the philosophy for the empty, whiny system of nihilism that it is. This novel has no characters, only insufferable stereotypes who can't walk through a produce isle at the grocery store without disappearing up their butts with lengthy, obnoxious monologues that somehow equate buying apples with death (exemplified by the single most unbearable character I have ever come across, Murray); it doesn't have drama, only histrionics. What makes this a thoroughly unenjoyable and ultimately uninteresting is that it is a work that sags under the weight of its own importance; it is so persistently self-conscious that I can't take it seriously as a work of literature--it spends a couple hundred pages trying to convince me how great it is without actually being great. What's more, if this novel were a failure as a novel but still offered some genuine insight into the experience of the individual in a post-modern world, it would still succeed as a work of philosophy. But it doesn't; every sentence feels like a catch-phrase rather than a substantive statement.
The difficult thing about criticizing a novel like this is that defenses of it are always predicated on the notion that disliking it reflects a misunderstanding of postmodernism itself--that is, those who dislike this novel obviously are not sophisticated enough to untangle the dense threads of philosophic intent that make it what it is. But, I do understand postmodernism (don't like it but still understand it) and still feel this is a failure. While reading it I was reminded of the infinitely superior Cat's Cradle (Vonnegut), and thought that this is what that great work would read like if stripped of all its originality and craft. That is a successful postmodern novel; this one is several long hours of my life I will never get back.

This is an excellent book. We are travelling to South Africa next year and this book gives an excellent view of the times.

I can't believe I'd never heard of this book before I received the list of books my church ladies book group was going to cover this year. I could not put this book down. It is the story of two elderly South African men, one black and one white, who had never met until the lives of their only sons tragically intersect. The two men find, not only that their sons were not the sons of their youth but vastly different, indeed their fathers truly had no idea what kind of men they had become.

As they try to come to know and understand the men their sons had become, two fathers learn and grow, themselves becoming new men in the process.
I highly recommend this book - I only wish I'd known about it sooner!

Oh, and I'm so glad that I did not know it was an Oprah's book club pick because, sad but true, that would have turned me off of it before I even opened the cover!

Cry, the Beloved Country, written in 1948, is relevant after all these years. Alan Paton cries for South Africa his beloved country. He cries for the Valley of Umzimkulu the home of Stephen Kumalo and James Jarvis. He cries for the city of Johannesburg, the harsh city that spits at the weak with poverty, crime, prostitution and addictions.

Paton uses a third person narrative voice to tell the story of two men--Stephen Kumalo, a black priest (Book I.) and James Jarvis, a wealthy white landowner (Book II.). Paton gets inside the mind of each man, exposes human feelings with depth and restraint. The restraint, in both language and sentiment, gives power to the story. His simple declarative sentences are reminiscent of Hemingway. Paton makes Kumalo and Jarvis fully human heroes, imperfect lovable survivors. They survive after the tragic interconnected deaths of their sons; they relate to each other with dignity and respect.

Within the story of two families the larger story of South Africa emerges. Paton exposes the racism that created Apartheid. He details the loss of self sufficient farming compelling young people to go to the cities to earn a livelihood. He shows the impact on young blacks going to the city and losing their communal tribal life. He shows the generosity of Jarvis' son who devoted his life to social justice and was killed in spite of his effort by a disenfranchised black youth--Stephen's son.

Paton's tone is measured, even unhurried. The tone slows the reader down and forces the reader to look at the reality of the characters. And then the novel moves beyond Kumalo, Jarvis, and South Africa to a broader picture. Like all great art, Paton's text relates to everyone by touching the core of the human condition. Cry, the Beloved Country evokes universal experience of human life. The novel remains important because it remains relevant.

Cry, The Beloved Country is a tremendous work of art. It really, really is. It may not be as "good" as the somewhat similarly-themed The Power of One...but it is "better," if you take my meaning. Deeper, more profound. More illuminating and thought-provoking.

Author Alan Paton was a devout Christian and a Kafferboetie--two things which I, emphatically, am not--but his literary ability, dovetailed with a definite time-and-place serendipity, enabled him to fuse those aspects of his persona into a book which transcends identity and politics, and which speaks not only to the Amy Biehls of this world. It touched me, and I think that South Africa, under black rule, is doomed to Zimbabwe's fate.

But politics and dogma aside, this book is a gift, not a polemic. It is a cri de coeur, not a political tract. It's a book that espouses a Christian moral ethic which, in the abstract, non-Christians should be receptive to. It is of Paton, but not for Paton. It's for you and I, whether black, white, liberal, conservative, and so forth.

Now, one last thing: How in the hell is this book not included on the MLA 100? It is MUCH better--not just as a book, but in terms of the significant issues it raises--than some of the pap stinking up the list. (E.g., Wide Sargasso Sea, On the Road.) It is CLEARLY superior to credible books on the list such as A Bend In The River, and the Studs Lonigan trilogy. Paton was a staunch liberal activist, and his book has as its main character an extremely sympathetic black South African...how did this not appeal to the bien-pensants who composed the list?

I don't get it. It should have been included...but it wasn't. Read it anyway, though.

How much can a man love his country? How much can he love his son? His God? Can justice prevail when man cannot? What is forgiveness? Redemption? Grace? To consider all these elements in one novel is not possible. Or is it?

"Cry, the Beloved Country" is all these things and more. It is forgiveness writ large. It is agape love in the doing. It is the story of two fathers, each with a son. One son is the victim of apartheid and is lost. The other is also a victim of apartheid but of the other side. He seeks to find a way to make things better, to make things right. The lost one kills the seeking one. One is African, the other is Afrikaaner, and therein lies the difference and the ultimate. This difference, this ultimate, this absolute are what drove Alan Paton in the writing of South Africa's most famous, most searing novel of the separation of races in all ways.

Absalom Kumalo's life is limited in all ways because he is black South African. Arthur Jarvis is an engineer and has all the privileges of white South Africa, yet he is keen on social justice and works to bring it to pass. What irony then that the one without kills the one seeking to bring justice. However, it is this very irony that brings their fathers to friendship, to a bonding of black man and white man.

Umfundisi is the black priest (not Catholic) of a simple, poor church in a village located near the home of the rich landowner and farmer, James Jarvis, who really does not know his son until he is dead. It is the getting to know his son that he connects with the African, and the father becomes the son in the ways of love and forgiveness. The umfundisi is one of my favorite characters in all literature I have read because of his humility and reverence.

This novel, published in 1948, remains as one, even today, apropos to race relations, to their very real potentials and actualities. Mutual respect, sincerity, forgiveness, and grace all come to the fore in this most magnificent, lyrical novel.

It would be on my Top 10 list of books I would take if marooned on the proverbial deserted island.

I don't know where to start. It's pretty difficult to review a book in which nothing takes place. This book lacks... well, just about everything. It lacks half a sentence of substance. Nothing in the story is connected; I read the book and wondered, "What is this about? What was the story?" Actually, I have a confession to make: I didn't actually read the book in its entirety; I read the first half and was so disgusted by it that I had to read the summaries for the rest of the chapters online. It is that bad.

Normally I listen to other people's opinions but I am making it a fact in my mind that this book is the worst book I have ever read. If you disagree, you are wrong. That is how terrible this book was. It was a complete waste of my money. It was required reading for school. I always read the books regardless of whether I like them or not, only reading summaries after finishing to make sure I understood the whole story. This is the first book I have ever relied on reviews to finish. My teacher worhips this book but there is nothing good about it. If anybody can explain to me what this book is about in a way that makes sense, I will give them ten dollars.

So far, everyone in my school has failed to explain it to me. This book is everything Flowers for Algernon tries to be (that's not a good thing).

As many do, I read this in preparation for tackling Ulysses, in which Stephen Dedalus makes a return appearance. This has been called Joyce's most accessible work, however I found Dubliners faster paced reading personally.

The style of the book changes as the title character matures from a young child to a young man. The part that affected me most was the episode at school where, after he has fallen to immoral ways, a speech is given on Hell that is as riveting and detailed as Dante's Inferno. The fiery pits are described as an abomination across all the senses, where not just pain from sensory touch is there but in smell, sight, taste, hearing - and quite effectively described.

Stephen's subsequent change after confession and struggle to achieve harmony with God is inspiring even given the eventual outcome of that attempt.

The latter part of the book bogs down considerably as it falls into philosophical debates on questions that many a young (and old) person ponders. The ending is hopeful but uncertain.

"marooned"--an utterly wrenching and boundlessly suggestive term to describe the situation of the young artist.

There are many editions of James Joyce's "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" available, but this is easily the best Kindle edition. The text is based on Chester Anderson's 1964 text. There are also a good number of annotations by Seamus Deane--fewer than in Anderson's Viking Critical edition but sometimes more detailed and aimed at a less scholarly audience. best of all, this edition is a very well constructed ebook, with a good table of contents to facilitate navigation to the beginning of chapters and with an excellent implementation of endnotes. Annotated items are marked witha superscripted number that links to the endnotes. The notes are all placed together, so you can read other notes rather than having to go back to the main text to go to other notes.

All in all, this is the best Kindle edition of Joyce's classic. The text is based on a standard version, the notes are helpful, and the implementation highlight the advantages of the Kindle format.

After having just finished reading Ulysses (and loving it) I decided it would be rewarding if I read 'A Portrait' next in order to delve further into Stephen Dedalus' character. (Moreover, I had also just finished reading Ellmann's famous biography of Joyce and felt inspired to read Joyce's own semi-autobiography). Unfortunately I was extremely disappointed with the dry, tedious narrative tone that Joyce adopted in writing his novel, especially within the overdrawn third chapter in which we learn the terrors of hell and damnation. Yes, I know the sermon sequence had great significance in Stephen's development from the primordial muck of biological existence to the more rarefied air of the soul, of human conscience and (above all) of the powers of artistic creativity. Nevertheless I found my thoughts wandering elsewhere when I was reading this book and many times I had to re-read whole pages because I had realized I was just reading the words without absorbing their content. While Ulysses drew me immediately into the consciousness of Bloom and Dedalus, 'A Portrait' was bland, cold and uninviting. I felt by the end of "A Portrait" that I was solely reading the book because it was Joyce and because it was deemed a classic. Perhaps I ruined A Portrait by reading Joyce's masterpiece first. Even if Ulysses can seem (at times) even more glacially abstract and opaque to the reader than A Portrait, Ulysses at least challenges you in such a way that you want to understand more about the text (its various allusions, its satire, its narrative experimentation, ect). I do not feel compelled to read A Portrait again, in fact (in the process of writing this review) I now feel compelled to re-read Ulysses and perhaps even Finnegan's Wake.

The Jungle / 1-5661-9566-7

Propaganda is, by its very nature, always the least subtle of art forms. Make no mistake about it, The Jungle is propaganda. But it is propaganda with a root and a purpose, and Sinclair does not disappoint. He tells the harrowing tale of immigrants to America who find, slowly, painfully, that their sweet, naive natures make them easy pickings for the vultures who have gathered to feast on them.

Workers work long hours for little pay, under hazardous conditions, with nothing but a "Bad luck, Chuck" and a pat on the back if maimed or killed at the workplace. Leases for housing and furniture are written in incomprehensible legalese and the lawyers hired to protect them are in league with the owners seeking to cheat them. Even a staple like food works against them, as they unwittingly drink milk colored with white paint to cut prices and boost sales. The food they eat kills them, the house they live in consumes them, the work they do destroys them. By the time they realize that the only "real" way to get along in this cold world would have been to become wolves themselves (if only the women had been hooking all this time, one woman laments tearfully), it is too late - their children are cold and dead, their lives are ruined.

This book is a stunning reminder to each of us the sheer amount of trust we place in the world around us. We trust that the food we eat will not poison us, despite knowing that the regulatory agencies that 'care' for us are deeply politically and financially tied to those who we are supposed to be protected from. We trust that the contracts we sign will be honored, that the mortgages we contract will be legitimate. We trust that if the worst happens at our workplace, we and our family will be cared for. Sinclair reminds us that life is not always so simple, and is never so simple for the poorest of us.

you can download this book for free on gutenberg.org which is a legitimate site. It will be great for people who own reading devices like kindle or just likes free stuff.

This novel does a wonderful job of painting scenes from the daily life of a family of Lithuanian immigrant workers in the early 1900s. Sinclair produces memorable characters and captures the spirt of the times well. However, it is not a great novel from a purely literary perspective due to its lack of depth and rather uneventful plot. This novel carved out its niche in history by exposing the unsanitary conditions of the meat packing industry of the day. Many credit this novel with setting in motion the wheels that ulitmately led to the Pure Food and Drug Act in 1906. This is a book that is worth reading because of its historical impact, but it is does not contain the ingredients of a literary masterpiece.

This is one of my top reads. If you read and liked Fast Food Nation then you have to read this. This will motivate you to want to take a stand, start a social movement. The story is written extremely well and sucks you in. This one kept me up late and left me wondering about a lot of things. I also wonder how much is different then from now. The family in this story are very endearing and I found myself attached to them. This really brings the dark to light. Loved it.

First off, I'd like to express my opinion that this is one of the most brilliant novels of all time, eloquent in its own hyper-literal and miserable way, and though a hard read(400 pages of pure sorrow and exposure of our dark world) is one of the most fulfilling literary experiences available.

Now then, this book reformed and improve meat laws. It also deals heavily with the meat packing industry. But it even states within its walls that eating meat is virtually unnecessary, it supports the abolishment of such industry altogether, not to change any laws to better it. Though better than nothing, the accidental achievement of improving FDA standards of meat is a complete joke, and it was accomplished out of the pure lack of deep thought which Americans have possessed in the past 100 years. This novel is an example of the highest brilliance of political commentary, and everyone thinks its a ****ing book on nutrition. This angers someone as passionate about the work as I am, so excuse the hostility, but really... Its not just about health code problems. The boy eaten by rats, the death of Jurgis' entire family, the traitorous nature of politicians, how often Jurgis is conned without ever realizing it, the fact that his wife, one of his few lingering purposes for life, is violated and dies, because of foolish decisions he was forced into and must cope with, the imprisonment, the poverty, starvation, loneliness! The meat industry is almost irrelevant, its simply one symbol of the thousands of possible ones which can epitomize the cruel nature of capitalism. It didn't end with the improvement of meat quality, its the idea that in this world, we are slaves to money, and those who by either chance or folly fail to achieve wealth will be tossed aside as garbage. Don't you see, this poverty still goes on today, that it did not end with the simple improvement of cleanliness? It is an expose on the sick nature of capitalism, of this merciless dog-eat-dog world which confuses superiority with circumstance, not a suggestion of how we should prepare food. Women are still prostitutes, children are still starving, politicians are still crooks, men are still alcoholics, and we are still owned by monetary garbage. At least recognize these socialist themes, you don't need to do anything about it, its radical, its insane, it would never work, sure, think what you will, but if you're going to praise a book written by a genius such as this, I'd appreciate that you didn't completely destroy his point. Notice, also, how he speaks of the world as a whole at some points in his book. Despite apparent increase in our quality of life here in the grand ole USA, the world is still quite ****ed, if I may say so myself, as Sinclair DID, and everyone failed to notice because they've sort of forgotten than an entire planet exists outside of ourselves. Please, with the numbers who have read this book, you'd think that quite a few may have been reached, but this focusing on the trivial and denial of the extreme has hardly done this book any justice.

And Dr. Barry Sears has absolutely no place in the book... he states in the afterword in so many words that Sinclair would have to admit that the current strides in the meat industry have done more for the American working man than "any political movement could have ever accomplished." This nutritionist is going to say that Upton Sinclair, obviously one of the most convicted socialist figures of all time, would be happy that his grand vision of a utopian brotherhood was instead interpreted as something so shallow as 'cleaner meat means happier America'? Complete and utter ignorance! And he has the gall to plug The Zone, and the foolishness to say that The Jungle and The Zone are similar, passing The Jungle in the same boat as some dieting garbage and The Zone off as some world-saving, revolutionary book. Complete and utter ****ing ignorance.

If Sinclair were alive right now, no doubt he'd be insulted. You should all give the book a good second reading, and this time pay attention to the last half, you know, the one that has nothing to do with the meat industry at all. This is a book of brilliance...

"I wrote with tears and anguish, pouring into the pages all the pain that life had meant to me." -UPTON SINCLAIR You can comprehend this pain, and understand it, and do something about it, if you simply read the book with a mind beyond an adolescent stage. And I guarantee you, the pain is not a simple matter of unsanitary steaks and chops.

This book is enlightenment for the philosopher stuck in the capitalist world, the one who thinks in the midst of all those who work. For those who fail to understand, its simply something to read because it is marked as a "classic," and I have noticed that. It is by no means pleasant to read but by all means essential to those wishing to comprehend the true genius of literary expression. Do yourself a service and read this book. You don't have to convert to a socialist, but you also don't have to be a complete idiot in its interpretation.

My apologies once again for the hostility, but as I said I am very passionate about this work. If it arises as too trying a task to take in the entire thing,at least survey the last 50 pages or so, for included are speeches of wondrous inspiration and eloquence. This review is not a simple shot at those who took it the wrong way, but a guide for those who will eventually read it. Genius lies in these pages, truly a mind-altering brain supplement... just forget everything anyone's ever told you about it, or about American politics, and see what you come to realize.

This classic play by Arthur Miller (1915-2005) examines human failure, high expectations, and the dark side of the American Dream. Willie Loman is an aging salesman whose figures have fallen to the point where he no longer makes a real living. Not only is his job in jeopardy; so is his family and self-worth. Loman reacts by deluding himself, living in the past, and by holding his sons to unrealistic expectations. Miller does a superb job in presenting a broken man sliding downwards. Such occurs in the sordid race of materialism and corporate success - one that leaves many broken souls in its path. Willie needs to face reality, and mend himself and his struggling family (and his family should help him too), but Miller's powerful script doesn't go there. Instead we have a deluded, beaten man sliding into mental illness - and worse.

Miller penned this play in 1949, as the USA was moving into postwar changes and a more suburbanized, corporate society. This play about the brutish world of expectations, materialism, and the illusive American dream is as much on target today as in 1949.

Summary:

"Death of a Salesman" is a play by Arthur Miller about an aging man named Willy Loman and his broken dreams. Willy is in his sixties, and had just been demoted from his once fruitful job as a traveling salesman. Because of his growing depression and his frequent car accidents, he had his salary taken away, and has been put on commission.
Throughout the play, Willy recalls his life in a series of flashbacks, while we see what he has become in the present. He went from having an illustrious career where everyone loved him and he brought home a large salary, to a depressing home life and earning money off the occasional sale. His two sons Biff and Happy, were once successful athletes. Now Biff is 34 years old with no job and no high school diploma. Happy appears to be following in his fathers footsteps, making many of the same mistakes that he did. Willy can't stand to be around his wife, Linda, anymore because of his overwhelming guilt over an extramarital affair that happened several decades ago, that his son found out about.
Near the end of the play, Willy fantasizes that he is talking to his dead brother Ben, who had been an inspiration to him since he struck it rich in Alaska. Willy attempts suicide several times, once by hooking an exhaust pipe to the gas heater, and several times by purposefully driving recklessly.
When he tries to get his original job back, he gets fired by a man young enough to be his son. He tells this man, Howard Wagner, how he expected his life to turn out, and how he was let down:

"...Oh, yeah, my father lived many years in Alaska. He was an adventurous man. We've got quite a little streak of self-reliance in our family. I thought I'd go out with my older brother and try to locate him, and maybe settle in the North with the old man. And I was almost decided to go, when I met a salesman in the Parker House. His name was Dave Singleman. And he was eighty-four years old, and he'd drummed merchandise in thirty-one states. And old Dave, he'd go up to his room, y'understand, put on his green velvet slippers - I'll never forget - and pick up his phone and call the buyers, and without ever leaving his room, at the age of eighty-four, he made his living. And when I saw that, I realized that selling was the greatest career a man could want. `Cause what could be more satisfying than to be able to go, at the age of eighty-four, into twenty or thirty different cities, and pick up a phone, and be remembered and loved and helped by so many different people? Do you know? When he died - and by the way, he died the death of a salesman, in his green velvet slippers in the smoker of the New York, New Haven and Hartford, going into Boston - when he dies, hundreds of salesmen and buyers were at his funeral. Things were sad on a lotta trains for months after that. In those days there was personality in it, Howard. There was respect, and comradeship, and gratitude in it. Today, it's all cut and dried, and there's no chance for bringing friendship to bear - or personality. You see what I mean? They don't know me any more."

Later, he finds out that his son, Biff, doesn't get the job he was counting on. After a failed attempt to plant a vegetable garden, he decides that he couldn't live anymore and drives his car off a bridge.

My rating: 4/5

Commentary:

This was a good book. It had good character development and an intriguing plot. However, since I wasn't seeing the actual play, it was hard to tell what happened in some of the scenes. Anyone who likes period pieces will probably want to read this.

"Death of a Salesman" is a modern American tragedy. Yet, it can apply equally to any society where individuals become self-obsessed, lose touch with the bigger picture and allow themselves to be deluded by dreams of riches whilst ignoring the beauty of the day to day world.

Poor Willy Loman is a very sad figure. He wallows in the past. He has grandiose dreams about himself and his two adult sons, Happy and Biff. But these dreams are not rooted in any reality. Quite simply, Willy is lost and lonely.

Arthur Miller's play is a masterpiece. Few other 20th century playwrights have been able to surgically dissect society so well. Miller's work is not for those seeking a happy ending where everything is resolved and the characters happily fade away. No, this work is brutal in comparison. Willy Loman is an anti-hero. He is hard to like. He is, however, worthy of our pity. His life, at least through his own eyes, is one of failure. But, in reality, Willy is no failure. He is simply deluded. He has swallowed the American dream to the point where its goals merely impoverish him. The dream, any dream, is what you make of it and should not be imposed upon the individual. Willy allows the dream to ruin his life. Willy is the ultimate tragic.

Many deem "Death of a Salesman" to be a critique of American society. This is unfair. Miller's work is the précis of a tragic life. Willy is that tragedy. To dream is magnificent. To allow a dream to dominate your very existence is a disaster.

I wasn't terribly impressed with "Death of a Salesman" while I read it. The play simply didn't live up to its acclaim, its noble status in American literature. I've heard Salesman referenced countless times over my life, all 22 years of it. Salesman was written in 1949, a post-war era that supported the belief that starting anew was possible and wishes do come true. My first impression of the play was that it attempted to shatter the ubiquitous belief of an American dream, making it merely a quixotic fantasy. But after rereading certain passages and thinking about it for this review, I saw how very human its message is and how it is actually an incredibly despairing masterpiece that throws a new light at the idea behind the American dream. Through the utterly destroyed and distraught protagonist, Willy Loman, Miller represents the demise of the American dream and suggests the need to reassess such a unrealistic dream.

Loman is a revised, twentieth-century version of the classic tragic character. He does not display the typical chivalrous characteristics that many literary tragic characters do, such as Beowulf and Oedipus Rex. Loman, in fact, is pathetic and repugnant. As an older aged, crazy, and impoverished character, Loman isn't close to the traditional heroic figure. He cheats on his wife; builds up impratical hopes for his two sons; and makes imprudent business and life decisions. Such characteristics are sinful and generally not seen in the traditional tragic literary figure. But these traits are also very real and humanistic. Miller deftly jumps from the present to the past and back again, slowly "peeling the onion" (as Grass would call it) of the true Loman. This peeling process reveals what went wrong and what should've been avoided to prevent this most tragic ending. It appears that Miller is suggesting that seemingly innocuous decisions can--and do--destroy the American dream.

Such a bleak perspective on the American dream shouldn't come as a surprise to the reader/viewer. The late 1940s was a period of transition: America was forced to adjust from the war-driven, ration crazed society to a very corporate-driven, forced-fed consumer culture. Post-war America was full of tenuous hopes to climb the corporate ladder and to acclimate to a life of plenty, i.e. family members and money. For an ordinary, hard-working American, like Loman, this proved to be too much. Despite the play having a backdrop in the 1920s and '30s, it takes place in the late '40s, in the very much consumer focused society. It is fitting that the land of plenty left Loman and his family with nothing.

The play is very much alive today as it was nearly sixty years ago. Do read it. I'm going to try to see the play the next time it comes to town.

Hopeless fathers & sons were a favorite theme of Miller. The pressure of failing aspirations. The horror of failure. Drawn between overconfidence and self-doubt. Flashbacks on scenes from a dreary life. Lies to others and oneself. Failures in job and family.
The play is one of the quintessential pieces of modern American theater. Its themes are known and have been expounded endlessly. Why is it still fresh? I have never watched it on stage nor screen. I have known it for ages, but could not find enough interest to look for a performance, nor to read it. Now LoA does it.
Looking at the reviews here on the Penguin modern classic page, I am wondering about the spread in reviews. From 5 to 1 stars all is there, with a downward slope towards the negative votes. The play has more friends than foes, but on an absolute level, the nays would sink an ordinary ship. Of course quality questions are not decided by democracy. One particularly daft observer produced a perfect inverted version of cultural Stalinism. With perfect perverted logic, he tells us that only positive depictions of the American dream are acceptable. That is completely in line with 'socialist realism': if the artist fails to enthuse about the reigning system, he is condemned.
Thanks to LoA for making me get to know the man Miller. I will definitely look for a movie version or go to a play if I find an opportunity.

This truly is a classic and as others have said, not for everyone. Heart wrenching in the extreme. No sweetness, light and happily ever afters in this raw story of the life and times as they surely were in 19th England . Class structure, religious and moral strictures and the faults and failures of human nature are all laid bare here. Hardy writes with emotion and clarity. He pulls no punches and life in this period of history in the English countryside offered no safety net for a young girl like Tess D'Urberville.
Young Tess, barely fifteen years of age, is sent out into the world by her small rural village dwelling parents, who have newly found that they are descended from a formerly wealthy and ancient family that has all but disappeared through the centuries. This family was once well known and powerful, dating from the Norman Conquest, hence the original French name that was gradually altered and Anglicized through the centuries. The information the parents have concerning the dwindling of this old family line hints at something less than wholesome and honorable about the family history, but then the family histories of many of the ancient and landed families of the English aristocracy also have very dark periods they tell themselves. They would have been wiser to have asked themselves if wealth and stature were no longer attached to the D'Urberville family, should they have sent their vulnerable young daughter to claim a place among those who might not welcome her- and all for so little and such uncertain reward? They were both greedy and grasping social climbers who hoped their young daughter might open the door to wealth and a rise in rank in British society for the two of them as well. Tess' parents (who previously called themselves Durbeyfield) send her seeking the last of the D'Urbervilles to essentially claim her birthright and assume the station in life that they thought she should have despite her very humble upbringing with them. Tess is not street or life smart. She's naive as any young girl would be, though not at all stupid. Tess opens her heart to new people and experiences, as a young girl today might do coming from a small town to a larger city and coming face to face with the glamor, fascinating characters and enticements of urban high society. Tess is soon badly treated, seduced and victimized by those whom she thought were her friends and her new family members. From this point forward Tess tries desperately to find safety and security for herself and to protect her heart from being broken again. It will break even the hardest of hearts to read what this young girl experiences, all in an attempt to simply survive horrible hardship and grief and then to follow her heart to a man unworthy of her love. This story could easily translate to modern day life as it deals so effectively with class differences and socioeconomic differences, poverty, manipulation and exploitation, abuse, unwed pregnancy, abandonment, murder and much much more. A gripping story too. This is clearly the reason this is widely read in H.S. English classes and consequently why so many young women say they'll remember this touching and tragic story for their lifetimes. They cannot help but identify with Tess and the feelings that motivate her. If you've read it before in H.S. I suggest that you read it again with fresher more mature eyes and more life experience. You'll be glad you did and will certainly get much through a more mature understanding of Hardy's more subtle nuances and your own broadened experience of life and human nature. The BBC film version is really excellent as well and captures the bleakness and despair that Hardy so clearly uses to bind us as readers to Tess and to her life story until the bitter end. This is a cautionary tale with universal and timeless messages of "be very careful what you wish for, all that glitters isn't gold, the grass isn't always greener on the other side, and to thine own self be true".

One favorable evening, Tess in her white garb attends May-Day dance in sleepy town of Marllott. A passerby not used to sophistication will incline to notice her. It is not the extravagance, nay the ostentatiousness of the girl's beauty, but the softness in spirit and demeanor conspicuous on her big, beautiful eyes that sets her apart. The same passerby endowed with experience will not pinpoint Tess among the young, comely girls as someone prone to vicissitude of tragedies. Unfortunately, this is not the case.

Tess Durbeyfield later known in the novel as Tess d'Urberville is the hapless victim if not the heroine of this tragic tale. Born from poor parents, she is whisk away to work for the rich d'Urberville family. There she meets Alec, the handsome scion of d'Urbervilles clan. His incessant seduction of the young maiden results in violation of her rights. Forlorn, she returns home to the embarrassment of her parents and her neighbors. Stripped of clear prospect in life, she travels miles and miles away to be a milkmaid. While in the vast dairy field of Thalbothay, Tess falls madly in love with Angel Clare, the fledgling agriculturist of noble descent, convinced to make the newcomer his wife. Thus the journey that leads Tess from one farm to another is side by side with her lamentations over the two Englishmen and becomes her heart's landscape that stretches beyond endurance.

Hardy, an architect by tuition, molds his male characters in an anvil of insensitivity. Their frozen hearts incapable of thawing by burning tears of a woman's pleading. As to his female character like Tess, Hardy constructs her similar to obelisk with solid foundation of faith that gradually narrows at the peak.

Unsurprisingly, Victorian society scorned Hardy when this novel came out in 1891. The way he chose to describe Tess and her violation were less subtle in comparison to Eliot's writings. At present society however, Thomas Hardy is as impeccable as the clock ticking on the wall. He is in command of his story as if time is in command of denizens elsewhere. Under no circumstance he pauses to please his readers. He continues and takes them where nothing exists but the certainty of time.

Tess Durbeyfield never really has a chance. Her father is a poor alcoholic and her mother is a slightly feeble-minded optimist. Tess has six younger siblings, and they are just barely scratching out a living in Victorian England. When her father hears that he is actually descended from a noble family, the D'Urbervilles, his heart swells with pride. When he and his wife find out that there is a rich family sharing their ancestral name living nearby, a plan is formed.

Tess, who is seventeen, will be sent to this other branch of their family, to claim kin. They will take her in, clean her up, and marry her off to a high-class gentleman who will be able to provide for Tess and the rest of the family. Off Tess goes to meet the other branch of her family. Little does she know that