Elisa Lanconeli từ Chorakhe, Nong Ruea District, Khon Kaen, Thailand

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05/16/2024

Dữ liệu người dùng, đánh giá và đề xuất cho sách

Elisa Lanconeli Sách lại (10)

2018-05-27 10:31

Combo Nghệ Thuật Bài Trí + Lối Sống Tối Giản Của Người Nhật (Bộ 2 Cuốn) Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn

Sách được viết bởi Bởi: Sasaki Fumio

If I had not just finished reading "Once Upon a River" by Bonnie Jo Campbell, I probably would have rated this book more highly, particularly as they seem to be aimed at the same reading audience. I got the book from the library, having heard some good things about it, but quite honestly, the writing style simply drove me crazy. There are far too many main characters:: Cora, a mountain witch of whom it was said that she could shed her skin at night and "ride" any man. Eddie, her son who grows up to be "Captain Casket" - one of those late night TV hosts who showed horror films while in costume. He has a daughter, and is trying to adopt a son, Jasper, who is a year or two older than his own daughter, Wallis. And that's just a few of the characters who are crucial to the story. Not only does the POV change constantly, but the time in which a particular action takes place jumps all over the place, in no particular or logical sense. The reader starts in modern day, then is jumped to the early 40's in the mountains, then again to 1967 when Jasper, the "adopted" kid comes into Eddie's family. And the book only becomes more chaotic after that. Understand, there is nothing supernatural about this book, despite the title. It a pretentious attempt at "classy" writing, all but begging the critics to fall all over themselves in adoring this book. There is absolutely NO emotional resonance at all. The characters apparently are going through some pretty dramatic life changes, but the reader feel absolutely nothing at all either for or about them. Skip this book, if you're tempted. I'm no professional critic, and I sure didn't adore it.

2018-05-27 13:31

100% Trọng Tâm Ôn Kiến Thức - Luyện Kỹ Năng Hóa Học 12 Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn

Sách được viết bởi Bởi:

Having ignored any of the celebrated “Top 100” or any of the works often cited as “Must-Reads” for quite some time, I finally decided it was time to tackle one of those daunting relics everyone seems to go totally apeshit over; either hoping to enlarge my understanding of the human condition via a top-notch literary effort, or at least to find something worth talking some shit about in disgust. I was due for a break from my standard fare, anyway, I’d flooded my damaged brain with a string of absolute garbage; to prove just how bad it was, about the only time I felt I was reading anything of substance was while checking out reviews of the latest releases by emo bands in Alternative Press, or the Penthouse Letters while perusing back issues of smut. When these things start looking like insightful literature, you’ve got some problems. Looking back, approximately a fifth of all my books on goodreads have exactly one review, mine, and for good reason. Obviously, I needed to break this disparaging streak. About six months back I finally got around to tackling some Dickens after many fruitless failures, and while another of his works seemed like a pretty sure bet, I decided I’d take a risk and go for something a little farther out on the limb than I’d usually go, something really daring and preposterous, perhaps even something written by a chick, or a Skeksi. So, when I came across a fifty-cent copy of Emma, I was pretty much open to anything. I couldn’t have picked a better time to read Emma, a book which focuses solely on the delightful and pampered existence of upper-crust wastrels and dandies residing in some backasswards little county in England. While I was completely ignorant of Austen’s oft-praised body of work and had no idea what I was in for when I began reading it, I was soon lulled into a near-coma of blissful escapism from the woes of the modern day; a perfect read during a complete economic collapse. I couldn’t help feeling less-than completely enlightened reading about the exploits of Emma Woodhouse, who has never and will never work a day in her privileged life, as she immerses herself into one self-created and imbecilic folly (usually concerning ‘affairs of the heart’) after another in this sweeping novel, and real life afforded a poignant converse as I watch my ‘stable’ friends (those who quit smoking grass and shotgunning beers, ceased throwing a bone to any old whore that came around salivating for schlong, and embarked on something called a career) lose their homes, their life savings, and sell their children to sweatshops in Myanmar. I can’t say that their misfortune has been without personal benefit for me, as I can now look at my meager savings and accomplishments with some sort of pride in light of their tragic downfall, and have no qualms bragging to them that I’m living high on the hog. Yes, I am a bastard like that, which is probably why I don’t have many friends. I’ll be honest, Emma was starting to win me over on these disgustingly vain grounds; anything capable of making a half-literate slob working in a warehouse after failing to attend even one full semester of college feel like a success definitely has some fantastic powers of persuasion, but after reassessing the situation, I came to the conclusion that I hadn’t actually done more than these unfortunates, I just that I had less to lose when the bottom fell out. It’s true that a cheap evasion tactic isn’t everything, though. Nearing the halfway mark of the book (about the point Emma has totally fucked up about twenty things without a care as she’ll never have to worry about falling from grace) I briefly reconnected with reality; paid the bill for the cell phone I never use, paid the car insurance for the accidents I’ve never had, regretted money siphoned from my paycheck to provide the for schools I’ll never put children in and a police force that’s done nothing but ruin my good times and beat my honky ass, before sitting down and making a turkey sandwich with expired bread and meat, while drinking tap water containing twenty-parts-per-million Canadian goose shit . What a fucking wake-up call this ordeal was! I recognized that life is simply to difficult for me, whimpered long enough for a single, cool tear to trickle out, and I dove back into Emma like a syphilitic into a pool of penicillin. The story itself isn’t much to brag about; Emma Woodhouse (generously described on page one as “handsome, clever, and rich”) is hesitantly approaching adulthood, as her sister and childhood confidant/governess/slave Miss Taylor are both removed from her via matrimony. In a rather ironic twist of fate, Emma prides herself on her matchmaking abilities, and it appears that this singular gift resulted in the loss of the two women who would be best able to assist her in stepping into the world confidently with the style deserving one of her social standing. A solid back-up plan emerges when Harriet Smith enters her life, a girl of substantially lower standing and willing to act as a witless puppet, for whom Emma decides to provide direction and guidance in her own humble quest for a mate, often with disastrous consequences which a Woodhouse can completely ignore as mere trifles, but leave a lingering stigma on a Smith. With these follies providing a constant backdrop, Emma herself starts getting into the mix and trying to capture the fancy of a deserving gentleman, at which time she becomes engaged with an equally-admired adversary (the minx Jane Fairfax) and eventually entangles herself in a rather uninteresting web of deceit. Just when it seems that all is going to end well for all involved, the astute reader is torn between the glowing satisfaction that almost every endearing member of the charming cast apparently finds true, lasting love, and the reader’s own impending return to the evils of modern life outside the covers of a book, Jane Austen has one last, wholly unexpected surprise. One of the very first things we learn is that Mrs. Woodhouse, Emma’s mother has been dead for many long years, but we never know what the cause of death was. Austen can’t leave her to rest in peace however, and in closing the book, we discover that she succumbed in the first global H1N1 epidemic, and that Mr. Woodhouse has been harboring a Super-Swine-Flu germ for years, which is spread at Emma’s nuptials, resulting in the devastating demise of these colorful characters we can’t help but love. Note to some Important Dude at Quirk Books: the last paragraph is my plea for you to consider allowing me to co-author your first mass-market flop, Emma and Extinction-Level Epidemics. C’mon man, Emma with a little end-of-days catastrophe tossed into the mix, including the marketing bonanza promised by swine-flu association…. I’ll be cool with whatever cover art you want; you want the portrait/cameo looking thing of Emma, but wearing a surgical mask, I can roll with this, selling books is your business, I’ll take your keen advice. Shit, I’ll even promise to personally buy a copy myself if that somehow helps in your sage consideration of this proposition (since I’ll certainly delete the original from my computer).

Người đọc Elisa Lanconeli từ Chorakhe, Nong Ruea District, Khon Kaen, Thailand

Người dùng coi những cuốn sách này là thú vị nhất trong năm 2017-2018, ban biên tập của cổng thông tin "Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn" khuyến cáo rằng tất cả các độc giả sẽ làm quen với văn học này.