Antiquarian and Classic Book Reviews
Jabberwocky is a little monster of a calico tabby. A very active cat, she is Hargrave’s little snicker-snack. She’s the third youngest kitten and has a very silky coat.
Hargrave adopted Jabberwocky from a shelter as a kitten. She was playful, adorable, and had big green eyes. She also didn’t sleep. After several 4AM wake-ups, Jabbers had to be trained to go to bed at a certain time. Even as an adult, she still goes to bed every night.
A valued member of the thieves guild, Jabberwocky will steal anything not nailed down. Her sister’s kibbles? Stolen. Pen on the table? Knocked off. Chair you wanted to sit in? Taken.
Despite being very hyper and never sleeping, Jabbers is also rather lazy. She loves to run after a toy as much as she loves to stuff herself and fall asleep on someone’s lap. It’s a contradiction she’ll never resolve.
Both of these volumes are perfect for a night spent inside in the warmth of the fireside. Easy to get lost in, they are easily finished in a sitting and just begging to be turned over in your head or discussed with your favourite bookish friend.
There’s a lot that Clark has added to these stories (and taken out of them) in order to arrive at the masterpiece of film he has produced. He’s done a lot with the original material.
Time moves in circles in Pitch Dark, just like Ennis is moving in circles in her own mind. And there are no clear conclusions and no ending. This book is a journey.
It is essentially Nadezhda’s account of her own suffering and her country’s under the murderous, oppressive force of a dictator’s relentless purges of all opposition. Of art and culture. Of intellectuals and anyone who got in his way or was inconvenient.
I read it for the first time when I was far too young for it, all of the way back in 1994. I loved it then, but I didn’t appreciate the nuances of what Berendt was trying to say.
The Cipher is an interesting story that uses extreme violence to help the narrative. It doesn’t become the narrative.
Caliban Shrieks has been described as somewhere between an autobiographical novel and a rant, and you know what? I actually agree with this statement.
He has been institutionalized and addicted to drugs for quite some time, and he feels that he is on the verge of losing his looks and his status as he continues to fail to meet expectations.
Though the subjects are varied, what remains is Akutagawa’s beautiful starkness and his precise use of prose. There is the feeling that cutting one word would be impossible, but adding one would be a shame.
Patrick Hamilton’s Rope is a subtle kind of spooky. It’s not a murder-mystery. The murder has happened and it is no mystery who did it.
