I recently finished reading Stephen Fry's 'The Liar' and came to the conclusion that it was a very good book. Not that I recommend it to anyone who knows me--they'd be very surprised, and it wouldn't be pleasant.
Most people my age and in the same location tend to struggle through some boring old morality tale-like Chetan Bhagat's Five Point Someone, or Two States, or any of his other books-with some humour interspersed with it, just enough that someone with more than a couple of braincells won't be bored reading it. They then turn around and recommend it to another blithering idiot and come off feeling superior and well-read. That is the kind of book that drives me insane. And not the good kind of insanity, the kind that possessed me while reading Oscar Wilde's 'The Picture Of Dorian Grey' the first time. Or possibly the fifth. But more about that later. The kind of books that most people tend to read, the ones with a moral and a happy ending, seem to me about taking the least amount of effort, both to read and to write. The reader, quite obviously, doesn't think once throughout the process, and the writer doesn't feel the need to make the reader think. On the whole, it's a good system for just one kind of person. The one who doesn't really want to read, but does, anyway. Because it's the educated thing to do, and because they want to feel superior. But not me. Those books literally leave me with a sick feeling inside, which has nothing to do with what my stomach has digested and everything to do with what my mind has.
Stephen Fry's book is a bit confusing, and I'll admit I don't like to be confused as much as the next person, but it makes me happy. I identify with Adrian, the protagonist, though I'm not a chronic liar.(I do sometimes feel like I'm the only person I know who is truly living life) At the end of the book, I'm left with admiration for Professor Trefusis and a grudging respect for Adrian's whoppers. While this is just one example of a book that is truly good, for me, I was introduced to the genre of morally ambiguous, but oh-so-interesting books-by Oscar Wilde's only novel, 'The Picture Of Dorian Grey'. I read this book twice the first time I read it. Or would that be the second time? I loved it so much on the first reading--so much of it escaped me on the first reading--that I had to read it all over again, just as soon as I'd finished.(The advantages of being a speed-reader, anyone?;))
These sort of books don't just interest me because of the premise, or the plot, or even the characters. It's everything. Everything in the book, wrapped up in a neat little bundle that doesn't leave me wanting more, like some of those trilogies, or quartets or whatever. But it leaves me glad to have gone through the effort. And given half a chance, I would do it all over again.
Tschus! Bis nรคchste Monate. Velleicht. :)
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