Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters

Confession time: I actually finished “Tipping the Velvet” around Christmas. But owing to the fact that I’m a) lazy as hell, and b) an overladen philosophy and political science student, I just haven’t found the intellectual space to give this great book its due. So without further ado, I finally present a brief review of Sarah Waters’ inventive lesbian classic.

Tipping the Velvet is the kind of work that lingers pleasantly after you finish reading, like a good bar of chocolate. Waters’ writing flows seamlessly, and the story bubbles over with optimism and a sense of possibility. I was in a good mood all day when I finally closed the covers on this delectable page-turner.

The tale is told by Nancy Astley, a turn-of-the-century oyster girl (and yes, the Sapphic overtones are that obvious) living in the quiet English seaside town of Whitstable. Her only real pleasure is in visiting the local music hall, where she meets a dazzling male impersonator named Kitty Butler. Night after night, she finds herself strangely drawn to the music hall to watch Kitty’s act, much to the confusion of her working class parents and her befuzzled beau Freddy. Eventually, Kitty notices Nancy and invites her to come to London as her personal assistant. As the two girls work together, they develop a close friendship, and slowly become aware of their mutual attraction to one another. The buildup to their budding romance culminates in one of the most stunningly poetic and erotic scenes I’ve ever read.

Plus, stunning women in tuxes (from the 2002 BBC adaptation)

But the story doesn’t end with Kitty and Nancy’s romantic revelation - not by a long shot. The book wends its way through the smoky atmosphere of a Dickensian London, landing our fearless heroine in the varied company of vaudeville performers, saintly socialists, male prostitutes, secret BDSM socialites, and of course, underground lesbians galore. You can’t help but watch with bated breath as Nancy struggles to question, explore, and develop her sexuality in an age known primarily for its collective repression. And when she emerges triumphant at the end, you can’t help but cheer aloud. 

It’s an admittedly anachronistic narrative, but luckily Waters is adept at painting a rich and colorful setting for her equally colorful characters. And by using conservative Victorian England as her backdrop, Waters is able to fully demonstrate the depth of the oppression faced by the modern LGBTQ community, women, and the poor. In short, this socially-conscious read is both delightful and thoroughly relevant. 

-Claire

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

Nabokov’s infamous Lolita is a book I had taken great pains to avoid reading. While I knew it was on nearly every “100 greatest novels” list ever created, I had the feeling it would just try to invite my sympathy for a misogynistic child rapist. But as it turns out, Lolita proved to be much, much more than a tale told by a predator. It's a master study on attraction and the dark underside of love.

Humbert Humbert, a brilliant member of the European literati, begins his bizarre fairytale from inside prison walls. He recounts a fatal childhood encounter with a young girl named Annabel (a reference to Poe’s Annabel Lee, one of his many erudite jokes) and his resulting obsession with the ephemeral beauty of those adolescents he terms “nymphets.” Although it is certainly a sexual perversion, Humbert protests that it is also a platonic one - he longs to understand the strange cusp that lies between childhood innocence and the cynicism of adulthood.

By the time you finish the first few chapters, it is already evident that he’s an unreliable narrator, and the more you read the more obvious his neuroticism becomes. Yet like all madmen, his thoughts produce a kind of prophetic insight. Lines of startling beauty and eloquence jump out at the reader, and I often found myself tasting the words aloud just to feel their shapes. I was surprised to find that as much as I wanted to hate him, I related to him in many ways. The whole book feels personal, like a confession to a close friend. While his actions are deplorable, there is no attempt to hide that fact from the reader - Humbert frankly admits to his corruption, and simply wants the audience to hear the whole story.

After a series of incredible coincidences, he is left the sole guardian and stepfather of lovely 13 year old Dolores Haze, who is his living idol. They immediately become lovers and embark on a cross-country road trip. Humbert claims that it is Lolita who initiates this state of affairs, and is shocked to discover that she has already had many sexual experiences of her own. However, despite her initial curiosity and attraction to Humbert, it also soon becomes clear that Lolita is miserable trapped as his “pubescent concubine.” Humbert chooses to remain oblivious to her plight. He idealizes and despises her at the same time, and he becomes insanely paranoid that she will be taken from him. In moving from hotel to hotel across the North American continent, he desperately clings to Lolita with promises of new clothes and new attractions. As they wander, Humbert’s observations become a commentary on American consumerism that mirrors deToqueville in its poignancy. Eventually, even the gifts and half-hearted threats from Humbert are not enough to keep Lolita at his side, and she successfully executes her escape. 

Dominique Swain as Lolita in the 1997 adaptation 

Over the course of the book, Humbert blames his corruption on any number of things - the outlandish coincidences set up by McFate (his nickname for the workings of chance), the episode with Annabel by the sea, Lolita’s strange beauty. He peppers everything with anagrams, literary references, and puns to divert the reader from the naked reality of his feelings. And yet in the end, visiting a deeply cynical and now married Lolita, he is forced to acknowledge that he alone is responsible for the destruction that ruined both their lives.

It’s a story about human connection, and how easily we taint the memories of the very people we claim to adore. In perhaps the darkest irony of all, Humbert does discover the secret to nymph-hood, the real reason for the dichotomy separating our naïveté and our hardness. As Humbert learns, it isn't age that makes us cynical adults: it is only the cruelty, carelessness, and apathy we invoke in the name of love.

-Claire

The Picture of Dorian Gray- Oscar Wilde

This read was very compelling and intriguing. It is a fictional but universal and applicable tale of morality, friendship, hedonism, and vanity.

From the beginning you can see the humanity and compassion that Dorian Gray has, but over time, those virtues wear away. Because of inherent human weaknesses, Oscar Wilde often portrays Dorian's sinful lifestyle and philosophy in a somewhat rational and glamorous way. You can see the huge impacts that both Lord Henry and the painting make on Dorian, and how they feed his insatiable greed. Although Dorian goes throughout his life trying to live in a carefree manner, the guilt and consequences always find their way back to him.

This novel shows that the striving for youthfulness, beauty, and pleasure is never an easy or rewarding path. In the pursuit of aesthetic indulgence and superficial gratification, one often loses a sense of reality and humanity. And although forgiveness and redemption are on the horizon, wickedness and fear eventually consume him.

I recommend this book to those who are thinking about selling their soul to the devil.. just kidding! This book is a great read for anyone. At times is can be overwhelmingly dark and cynical, but overall it delivers a very thought-provoking and enlightening message.


-Amber

Saturday by Ian McEwan

Before I start, I just want to say how excited I am about this challenge. 1001 books is an incredible amount. Sweet mercy, it's going to take me YEARS to finish this list. But I love reading, and I love fictitious novels. I love getting sucked into a book. I love getting attached to the characters and I love laughing with them, crying with them, enjoying their lives while I can. Reading takes me away for a bit and throws me into places and lives that I couldn't dream of seeing and living. But I do see places and I do live lives when I read. I'm just disappointed that this is the book I chose to kick off this adventure.

I have to put this book to rest. It has taken me way too long to finish it, and I am sick of seeing it sitting on my coffee table.
The main question I would ask after finishing this book is, Why in the world was this book even written? It's literally only the space of one day in one man's life. It's almost like the author wrote it to see if he could get away with it, or if he could actually only write one day of a character's life and make it appealing enough for people to get involved.
It's not like this book is badly written, or lacks relevance, it's just simply boring and I clearly don't have the sympathy it demands.
I will admit that the boredom is probably a factor from the reader (me). I'm sure others have read this book and loved it. I mean, it was a New York Times Bestseller and it is on this list to read "before I die".
The main character is a middle-aged British neurosurgeon living in the after-math of 9/11. As an American citizen I have never stopped to think about how that event affected Britain at that time, mainly because I was only 10 when it happened and I lacked the depth that kind of curiosity requires.
But let me tell you, this man is affected all right, by a protest. Give me a break. Heaven forbid  you were stuck in traffic because people were protesting the bombing of Iraq, on a main street that you normally take to get to work. Cry me a freakin' river. While you (and I say you referring to the main character of this novel) are whining in your BMW X5, stuck in traffic, firefighters are still pulling bodies out of the Twin Towers just a skip across the ocean. Your high-end British life is just such a tragedy.
The entire book is focused on the affects of this protest on this doctor's DAY OFF, Saturday. He WAS expecting to get to the butcher's shop at 1pm, but he lost a game of Squash so he was late. Let's lament for 50 pages because this alters the protagonist's life and destiny. OH MY GOSH.
The author is a British man, about the same age of the character actually, so I'm sure it was easy for him to relate to this character and write enough about him to fill 308 pages. However, I am neither middle-aged, British, or a man. It was extremely difficult for me to even muster up enough interest to start new chapters because I could not find a inch of common interest between the character and I. Having said that, it's not like I hate novels where the voice is that of a man, or someone middle-aged, or even British. Even someone who does not read can agree that if you can't connect with the main character and find the will to care, the book will suck, for lack of a better word.
So. It's not that I don't recommend this book, I DO! I just know that for me, I could have died and been just fine if I had never even heard of this book. You (and I say you, referring to YOU) may have the ability to connect with the problems this man has during his Saturday off and devour this book. If so, kudos. You will have done what I could not do.

Love, Austi

Why Fiction?

People always say that they “never read” when starting a book list. They lament the fact that they have too little time or energy to get cozy with a book. But for me to say that I never read would be inaccurate at best: as a philosophy major, words and arguments have become my bread and butter. I spend hours in the cavernous basement of my college library, poring over lengthy treatises penned by dead white men. It’s not always the most exciting reading, but I certainly clock in my fair share of the written word. I’m not doing this for lack of exposure to ideas and ink.

So the question becomes, why am I bothering with an enormous book list? Why do I even need fiction?

Because fiction is the best therapy I can afford. It is, quite simply, one of few healthy ways we can resolve our lingering frustrations, our shortcomings, our fears. When we feel trapped and lonely, we need look no further than Flaubert’s Emma and her desperate longing for something more. When society seems harsh and unforgiving, characters like Lily Bart and Jude Fawley stand as testaments to its cruelty. And when we reach into the labyrinthine mind of Kafka, we often find our own darkest thoughts reflected back. I like the way that fiction forces me to feel, to confront the things that I’d rather shove under the carpet. It’s much like pressing on a bruise- it serves to remind me that I'm only human, after all.

I'm excited to begin this project, to explore the workings of my innermost thoughts. If there are any readers out there, I hope you'll bear with me. And who knows? You just might discover that you need fiction as desperately as I do.

-Claire