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The book's title refers, fittingly enough, to the chief protagonist, Dorothy Hare. A girl in her late twenties, she begins the book as a militant religious devotee, shown best in a pin she always keeps with her, used for pricking herself in penance for committing the slightest misdeed -- sometimes drawing blood for thinking no more than an unholy thought. She is one daughter among "ten thousand others" who lives a grueling life under the stern command of her father, the pastor, a hardened man of stern disposition and resolute aloofness, whose awkening greeting to his daugter as the novel begins is a question of when breakfast will arrive.
With a misadventure that begins here and ends in a place both similar and entirely different, Dorothy meets affrronts to her life, her stature, her class, even the very faith upon which the whole of her existence resides. And as Dorothy is challenged to think of the world differently, so are we; a defining moment comes when she says, "it is not what we do that matters, it is how our thinking changes because of it." As a theme to the novel and a thesis which he brilliantly defends, Orwell succeeds without hesitation. (As a note, the above quote is paraphrased, and I appologize -- I've already returned the book to the library.)
Where he falters -- and indeed he does -- is in the structure of the novel and, occasionally, the consistency of his language. The myriad of poetic prose almost seems to contradict his otherwise honed and scathing wit, and while often pleasing to the ear, his effors seem at best superfluous, essentially inconcequential to his underlying message. Other reviewers speak with further clarity on this topic, and I'm particularly inclined with one's opinion that only "Joyce can write like Joyce," in other words, that Orwell's language in "A Clergyman's Daughter" could at the least be called affected.
But these gripes on language aside, Orwell succeeds in painting a stark, grim, yet gripping picture of a society gone awry, and beckons us to look within.
Orwell cheats right out of the chute: In realizing that he may not know enough about women to write about our protagonist, he immediatedly removes her sexuality by telling us she is disgusted by the thought of "that." Nuff said. Our hero(ine) is now pretty much asexual.
What a story though. Plumbing the depths of faith and predestiny, Orwell weaves a fairly heavy tale of the motherless daugther of a grim and dispassionate minister obsessed only with his investments and petty theological particulars.
The minister's daughter loyally fills in the gaps, acting as the heart and soul of a failling church, praying her way against impossible odds while visiting the sick, recruiting new church goers, seeing to the buildings and her father's meals...and eventually completely wigging out.
Now the fun begins.
This is a warm and rewarding book, full of human insight and only a little bit of Orwell's patented socialist soap-boxing.
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For those who have lived with depression, SAM-e is a real spiritual lift. Never knew life could be like this!
No, the problems do not change or go away. But your ability to deal with them improves. And if you add some good self-help books and therapy, life can really be worth living. And worth fixing what is wrong in your life, too!
If you know some one who is depressed, get this book and read it! It will enable you to be more helpful. But don't be pushy or play therapist.
Just help your friend get the help they deserve and need.
God bless!
Morton Schatzman, MD
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Hot topics such as Palestine, Israel and Iraq are also dealt in an excellent way.
Having said the above, it does a very good job of summarizing the major history since 1800. And, I would recommend it to any seeking an introduction to the Middle East, esp. the modern world.
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The book states that an emphasis on application is an intrinsic part of it, this, however is not really the case. The book, while showing an appropriate number of application problems in certain sections, lacks that application horribly in others. However, these lacking sections are few enough that it deserves a fair amount of credit in the attempt.
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I couldn't get into this book. Every time the book was about to pull me in, a sudden change of pace would leave me scratching my head. This novel seemed to drag me nowhere, granted it is a classic, my classic eyes, nose, and ears say "no" to this book.
This is a well-written novel told about a young boy's life as he grows up. You learn side by side as this young boy, Stephen Dedalus, learns of life. You see things as he sees them, experience things as he experiences them, and feel as he feels. Whether it's fear, loneliness, pride or remorse, the feelings are lived as Stephen's imagination and life intertwine themselves together through each page.
This is a great novel if you have a Joyce-code-reader that helps you understand the Irish slang, Latin and symbolism. Irish slang dots this book, Latin develops it, and symbolism flies through it. This plot-less book is very hard to understand, which conveys Stephen's attitude toward life. He, a young man, is very confused in life. There are five stages in which Stephen goes through in this novel. He goes through school homesick, and looking for an identity other than his father's. Joyce depicts the family through debate at the dinner table, showing the strong political views of Stephen's father. Stephen also finds himself in a growing situation at school. After being wrongly beaten by the prefect of studies, Stephen decides to go and tell the rector on him. Fear mounts as he enters the hall across from the rector's room, but joy comes as he excitedly runs to tell his friends what happened. As he continues to experiment with life as he finds himself wading through sin. He struggles with the lusts of the natural man, as he gets involved with the opposite sex. And then it hits him. A power sermon about death, judgment, heaven and hell chain his soul down as he wishes to escape the eternal torment that surrounds him. He wants his soul to be at peace. And so through a battle with his conscience he repents and frees himself from sin. He then devotes his life to religion and purity. Seeing his devotion to the priesthood, a Father offers him a vocation. However, he discovers another path to paint the picture of his life. He journeys away to find his freedom lies in being an artist.
If you're going to read this book, put your code-decrypter nearby and get ready for a ride through the mind of Joyce.
Joyce was a strange one, where writing was concerned, focusing as he did on language as a means to evoke the world rather than merely for telling a "story". Over the years I have come to conclude that fiction requires narrative requires storytelling . . . and yet Joyce successfully broke that rule and he did it first in this book.
PORTRAIT is a book which builds the world of its narrator in the telling, without really following any kind of plot or storyline or giving us a beginning, middle and end. From the opening lines of ludicrous baby talk, where we see the world through the young hero's infantile eyes, to the end where the young lad, after much intellectual wrestling in his school days, steps off into the wider world, this is a book which paints a young man's coming of age, through his very subjective experience of life, with words. Indeed, all good writing "paints" its world to some extent. But Joyce, and several of his contemporaries, set out to re-write the rules of writing by only painting the picture, as though the story (an artificial element in most cases) did not count at all. And they did what they set out to do. Joyce did it most dramatically of all with this book. Like Hemingway, Joyce was a literary impressionist, building the world through bits of language instead of merely describing it or telling us about it.
I think we need to get back to basic story in our day, as theirs was, to some extent, a false trail. But it was a trail worth following and of great value to all readers and writers alike. Aspiring writers, and anyone with a real craving to explore the literary world, ought to have a go at this one. It's an original.
SWM