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retsukoThere have been very few books that I've simply not been able to finish. I've even lasted for months on just one book. But once or twice, there have been books that I simply stopped reading, not out of active dislike but rather because I completely forgot about them. For example, I was reasonably entertained by Life of Pi, and was about halfway through when one day I put it down and forgot about it. Months later, I came across the book while cleaning and couldn't remember what on earth was going on, so I never finished it all. This is a weird reading sensation, a literary deja vu, because of the same maddening sense of non-closure and the nagging feeling that you've been familiar with the work on some level before.
Weirder still, though, is the works that I have finished, adored while I was reading, and then never thought about again. I cannot tell whether this is just a temporary issue that's due to all that's going on in my life, or because the works themselves aren't actually that good. In the case of The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern, I really enjoyed it during the reading process. I recommended it to several friends and profusely thanked Yebisu, who'd given me the hardcover for Christmas. I was so invested in the plot that I stayed up late to plow through the last fifty pages, and then I felt very excited and pleased. But here it is, only a few weeks later, and I cannot remember who the main characters are, exactly, or the book's ending, although I do remember the central drive of the story and its unique setting. Does this mean it has no staying power? It certainly seemed well written at the moment when I was in the thick of it, but now I cannot bring to mind any specific phrasing or sentences that I especially liked. Odd.
I also enjoyed The Artist very much while I was watching it, but haven't really thought about it since. (And, I suspect, we should have seen Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy instead, because Yebisu didn't care for TA at all.) There was more drama and pathos than I was expecting (I had been led to believe that the movie was more in the tradition of Laurel and Hardy than what it turned out to be.) I do remember that the black and white was simply beautiful, and the soundtrack was very nicely done. There was also a funny sequence that played with sound in the main character's nightmares, and the dog was adorable. But I haven't gone back to the film once, or thought about any of the shots that I liked. I do remember thinking that it wasn't quite as clever as the filmmakers wanted it to be, and that it felt a little like a film class project waiting to be taken apart. But it wasn't a bad movie at all, just not particularly memorable in the long run. Still, well worth seeing on the big screen if you want gorgeous black and white--that, I suppose, is the one thing that really sticks with me. This movie brings my Oscar Best Picture tally to two, and I far prefer The Descendants, although I have no idea which will win.
Weirder still, though, is the works that I have finished, adored while I was reading, and then never thought about again. I cannot tell whether this is just a temporary issue that's due to all that's going on in my life, or because the works themselves aren't actually that good. In the case of The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern, I really enjoyed it during the reading process. I recommended it to several friends and profusely thanked Yebisu, who'd given me the hardcover for Christmas. I was so invested in the plot that I stayed up late to plow through the last fifty pages, and then I felt very excited and pleased. But here it is, only a few weeks later, and I cannot remember who the main characters are, exactly, or the book's ending, although I do remember the central drive of the story and its unique setting. Does this mean it has no staying power? It certainly seemed well written at the moment when I was in the thick of it, but now I cannot bring to mind any specific phrasing or sentences that I especially liked. Odd.
I also enjoyed The Artist very much while I was watching it, but haven't really thought about it since. (And, I suspect, we should have seen Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy instead, because Yebisu didn't care for TA at all.) There was more drama and pathos than I was expecting (I had been led to believe that the movie was more in the tradition of Laurel and Hardy than what it turned out to be.) I do remember that the black and white was simply beautiful, and the soundtrack was very nicely done. There was also a funny sequence that played with sound in the main character's nightmares, and the dog was adorable. But I haven't gone back to the film once, or thought about any of the shots that I liked. I do remember thinking that it wasn't quite as clever as the filmmakers wanted it to be, and that it felt a little like a film class project waiting to be taken apart. But it wasn't a bad movie at all, just not particularly memorable in the long run. Still, well worth seeing on the big screen if you want gorgeous black and white--that, I suppose, is the one thing that really sticks with me. This movie brings my Oscar Best Picture tally to two, and I far prefer The Descendants, although I have no idea which will win.
