Beyond Anxiety

 This was simply not a book for me. I did not find it useful, and it was mostly a disappointment. I only finished reading it because it was a birthday present. Here is a quote from the book that beautifully captures how I feel about it: 'But first let's talk about the fact that everything I'm saying may sound ridiculously woo-woo or far too simplistic' (Beck, M. Beyond Anxiety. p. 261. United States of America: Penguin Books, 2025). Indeed. What a waste of time.

Mrs Dalloway

Reading Mrs Dalloway was a much nicer experience than reading To the Lighthouse. I found several passages very beautiful. I loved the descriptions of London. And I saw a lot of myself reflected in Peter Walsh—at least my previous self, a self that I am trying very hard to leave behind. Despite that, I have sadly decided that I do not like Virginia Woolf's writing style, at least not her stream of thought style of those two novels. I find it extremely confusing, extremely difficult to follow. So much so that it opaques the beauty of several masterfully written sentences. It is almost like Virginia Woolf thought that beauty could only exist in immensely complex and incomprehensible narratives. I do not think I dislike things only because I do not understand them. I do not understand the stars in the sky, yet I admire them greatly. In this case, however, I do not understand her writing style, which happens to greatly contribute to my dislike of her novels.

How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia

There is not really much one can say about this book. At least it had the decency of being so short that you do not really have to spend much time with it. I read The Reluctant Fundamentalist in 2009, before I started this blog so I do not have a record of my opinion on that book. But from what I can remember, it was a more interesting read, which renders How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia a disappointment.

American Pastoral

 What a boring read. The first third of the book was decent, but afterwards it quickly spirals down into a tiresome repetition of a story that could have been told in far fewer pages.

To the Lighthouse

 Quite painful to read. It was basically a collection of sentences that had little relation to each other. It was very difficult to follow the many seemingly disjoint ideas contained in a single paragraph. I could not even tell you what the story was, despite my just having finished reading the book. I am as clueless as if I had only read the title.

The Price of Salt

 Yet another disappointment. I guess I was expecting something similar to Gore Vidal's The City and the Pillar. Yet this book was so bad, so poorly written. Yes, this might be the first book that has a seemingly happy ending for two women in a relationship. But it is almost sad that this has to be it. And the "happy ending" was not even a good one. Two women waving at each other after one of them just rejected the other? The most interesting aspect of the book was learning about the old lifestyle that people in the 1950s had. Sending physical letters to have an actual communication when one goes on a trip. Leaving a forwarding address when one checks out of a hotel. Rolling down car windows. Using dictaphones. It was a nice reminder of how different the world was not so long ago. All of that being said, my favourite sentence in the book is: "I feel I stand in a desert with my hands outstretched, and you are raining down upon me." (Highsmith, P. The Price of Salt. p. 128). What a beautiful way to convey a feeling.