#ohwilliam

[hotshotdebut]

I read #OhWilliam by #ElizabethStrout right after it was long listed because I got myself a copy pretty soon. I wasn’t expecting it to be shortlisted because I only consider the author to be a bestseller author instead of a Booker one. Nothing spectacular about it and it is enjoyable and an easy read. A typical white middle class novel with white people’s problems. I definitely don’t see it to be the winner in matter of days. But I have to say it probably has the best cover among the six. The Fourth installment is out now. I’ll probably read the second one as I have it at hand. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cjpr40Rrt9p/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[fredhandbag]

Oh William! is my first book from Elizabeth Strout. Lucy Barton remembers her relationship with ex-husband William as she deals with the loss of her husband, David, and he deals with his current wife leaving him with their daughter. William discovers secrets his mother kept and struggles to deal with the harsh reality of who his mother really was Through it all Lucy will remember things that happened to her and things during her marriage to William - even as she watches him flounder. There are many references to events from a previous book - I Am Lucy Barton - that would have been helpful to read first but is not absolutely necessary. If you come from limited means (grew up poor) you will recognize many of Lucy's fears. How do I navigate this world I know nothing about? How can I make a better life for myself? How do I improve my self-worth? Lucy struggles with all of these and there are some interesting observations from Strout. Sometimes there is a stream-of-consciousness feel to it. Strout likes a long sentence with multiple ideas and punctuation. One sentence I highlighlighted had 109 words and nine commas. So there are times the reader has to slow down to follow the thoughts. This is an enjoyable, relatable read from Strout. Thanks to @randomhouse and @netgalley for the advanced copy. #ohwilliam #elizabethstrout #lucybarton #randomhouse #netgalley #literaryfiction #bookstagram #bookshelves #booknerd #bookhoarder #bookworm #sodacityreads #bookish #bookreview #hardcover #bookcover #bookhaul #literarycrimefiction #goodreads #homelibrary #fiction #domesticfiction https://www.instagram.com/p/CVSiNumrX-W/?utm_medium=tumblr

[merrywise]

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So I'm trying to put together clips from a free audio book version of The Winter's Tale, and one of the voices is so bizarre. Like, it's supposed to be a low-born shepherd but it sounds like a Portuguese count and I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING.

[merrywise]

Allow me a pleasant juxtaposition

William Cullen Bryant's "Thanatopsis"

As the long train Of ages glides away, the sons of men, The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes In the full strength of years, matron and maid, The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man-- Shall one by one be gathered to thy side By those who in their turn shall follow them. 

So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

William Shakespeare's Hamlet

who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.

[merrywise]

MAMILLIUS

A sad tale's best for winter: I have one Of sprites and goblins.

[merrywise]

JUST CALL ME HELENA.

DEMETRIUS

I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood; And here am I, and wode within this wood, Because I cannot meet my Hermia. Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.

HELENA

You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; But yet you draw not iron, for my heart Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follow you.

DEMETRIUS

Do I entice you? do I speak you fair? Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you?

HELENA

And even for that do I love you the more. I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, The more you beat me, I will fawn on you: Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave, Unworthy as I am, to follow you. What worser place can I beg in your love,-- And yet a place of high respect with me,-- Than to be used as you use your dog?

DEMETRIUS

Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; For I am sick when I do look on thee.

HELENA

And I am sick when I look not on you.

[merrywise]

Hamlet's final words are the rest is silence.

My mind cannot fully encompass the gravity of those four words. He's answering the famous question: 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come  When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,  Must give us pause. There's the respect  That makes calamity of so long life.  For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,  Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,  The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,  The insolence of office, and the spurns  That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,  When he himself might his quietus make  With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,  To grunt and sweat under a weary life,  But that the dread of something after death-  The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn  No traveller returns- puzzles the will,  And makes us rather bear those ills we have  Than fly to others that we know not of? 

By the end of the play, Hamlet has solved this riddle.

The rest is silence.

[merrywise]

O bloody period!

ANOTHER ACTUAL QUOTE FROM SHAKESPEARE