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Jimmy Tong blackbean_47f7 — Emma is a good book that would recommend. For a classic of its age, I did not find it a hard read. It is a bit of a slow story introducing many characters and story lines, but the author manages to keep it interesting to continue. Overall, the character development was good. The main character was definitely snobbish which left her a little less than desirable at times, but it gave her room to grow and develop in good ways toward the end of the book. Overall, Emma is a good book that I recommend for anyone interested in the classics. It's not a quick read, but worthwhile nonetheless.

Andrew Valencia 92valencia — "From the cut on his wrist the blood was still ozzing. Every few seconds a drop fell, dark, almost colourless in the dead light. Drop, drop, drop. to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow... He had discovered Time and Death and God" (127). "it is worthy of note that, in spite of his m--'s senility and the extreme repulsiveness of her appearance, the Savage frequently goes to see her and appears to be much attracted to her- and interesting example of the way in which early conditioning can be made to modify and even run counter to natural impulses (in this case, the impulse to recoil from an unpleasant object)" (148). "All silences rejoice, / Week (loudly or low), / Speak - but with the voice / Of whom, I do not know / ... / Whose? and, I ask, of what / So absurd an essence, / That something, which is not, / Nevertheless should populate / Empty night more solidly / That that with which we copulate, / Why should it seem so squalidly?" (166). "And yet...I know quite well that one needs ridiculous, mad situations like that; one can't write really well about anything else. Why was that old fellow such a marvellous propaganda technician? Because he had so many insane, excruciating things to get excited about. You've got to be hurt and upset; otherwise you can't think of the really good, penetration, X-rayish phrases" (169). "'No,' he concluded with a sigh, 'it won't do. We need some other kind of madness and violence. But what? What? Where can one find it?' He was silent; then, shaking his head, 'I don't know,' he said at last, 'I don't know'"(169). "'Do you like being babies? Yes, babies. Mewling and puking,' he added, exasperated by their bestial stupidity into throwing insults at those he had come to save. The insults bounced off their carapace of thick stupidity; they stared at him with a blank expression of dull and sullen resentment in their eyes. ' Yes, puking!' he fairly shouted. Grief and remorse, compassion and duty-all were forgotten now and, as it were, absorbed into an intense overpowering hatred of these less than human monster. 'Don't you want to be free and men? Don't you even understand what manhood and freedom are?' Rage was making him fluent; the words came easily in a rush. 'Don't you?' he repeated, but got no answer to his question'"(192-3). "But that's the price we have to pay for stability. You've got to choose between happiness and what people used to call high art. We've sacrificed the high art" (199). "Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand" (199). "Happiness is a hard master-- particularly other people's happiness. A much harder master, if one isn't conditioned to accept it unquestioningly, than truth" (204). "One can't have something for nothing. Happiness has got to be paid for. You're paying for it, Mr. Watson-- paying because you happened to be too much interested in beauty. I was too much interested in truth; I paid too" (205). "'But value dwells not in particular will,' said the Savage. 'It holds his estimate and dignity as well wherein 'tis precious of itself as in the prizer'" (212). "'My dear your friend,' said Mustapha Mond, 'civilization has absolutely no need of nobility or heroism. These things are symptoms of political inefficiency...'" (213). "'But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin." 'In fact,' said Mustapha Mond, 'you're claiming the right to be unhappy.' 'All right then,' said the Savage defiantly, ' I'm claiming the right to be unhappy.' 'Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.' There was a long silence. 'I claim them all,' said the Savage at last. Mustapha Mond shrugged his shoulders. 'You're welcome,' he said" (215). "Slowly, very slowly, like two unhurried compass needles, the feet turned towards the right; north, north-east, east, south-east, south, south-south-west; then paused, and after a few seconds, turned as unhurriedly back towards the left. "South-south-west, south, south-east, east..." (231). Some thoughts: the character development and the idea of individuality intrigued me. There's Lenina who gives hints of being "funny" and more prone to developing attachment and affection (which is prohibited in this everyone-for-everyone kind of society); there is Bernard who's an individual but longs for community, there is Helmholtz who rises above society; there is Mustapha Mond who recognizes his individuality but returns to the community for an even greater return; and there is John - who was similar to Bernard but from a different society. Their ends are all interesting... and the idea of the island (204) ... yeah. INTERESTING. AND. I love Shakespeare.