The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Was such a disappointment.

I can only hope that it is the fault of the translator that the text was so congested with terrible metaphors and overused cliches.

The mystery was mildly entertaining, and is the only thing that got me through the 500+ (out of 640) pointless pages.

Also, the main character, Blomkvist, was not a very nice guy and I don’t understand why all these women found him irresistible—in a book that was constantly shoving its distaste for abuse towards women in your face, nonetheless.

Catcher in the Rye

“I felt so damn happy all of a sudden, the way old Phoebe kept going around and around. I was damn near bawling, I felt so damn happy, if you want to know the truth. I don’t know why. It was just that she looked so damn nice, the way she kept going around and around, in her blue coat and all. God, I wish you could’ve been there.”

—Holden Caulfield, Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

Finished rereading “the Catcher in the Rye.” I had to fly through it because the book is so depressing. This aspect is what really brings Catcher down from the rest of Salinger’s work. I mean, it is Salinger, though. He was a literary genius, the man wrote like I breathe. It’s so natural and effortless, Catcher and the rest of his work says so much by walking through simple situations, and conversations. The book just gnaws at your subconscious. (the protagonist) Holden is such a hateful guy, and that is Catcher’s biggest drawback, to me. I cannot relate to such a cynical character. I do not understand why so many people are obsessed with Catcher (although the people that are obsessed with it are typically just as dissatisfied as Holden) when the rest of Salinger’s work (Nine Stories /  Franny + Zooey, especially) are utter masterpieces.

I don’t know, I’m just a goddam madman sometimes. 

Animal Farm

I FINALLY read the classic book, Animal Farm. Being a huge fan of Orwell’s 1984, I was underwhelmed, to say the least. The story is a very not subtle commentary on communism that seems like it could have been done in even less pages than the 100 that makes up this book. By the end I just thought, “I get it! Communism is not as good as it may seem, it is actually quite bad!” 

Maybe it was more poignant when it was released in the 40s, but it didn’t do much for me. Glad I got that out of the way. I’m reading Albert Camus’ The Stranger now.