Sherbert Illuminated

Fellow Readers, I fear I may disappoint you: this week, I only read two books. The first was a buddy read with a new friend, and I had the opportunity to annotate as I was reading. I thoroughly recommend marking up the books you own, to pick out favorite lines and interesting themes. The other was a play from one of my favorite modern playwrights. I enjoyed them both: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce Against the urging of his friends and mentors, author avatar Stephen Dedalus grows from a confused child into a freethinking artificer. While many passages in this archetypical Bildungsroman are scarily accurate to my own experience, any personal affection I have for Joyce or his prose is overwhelmed by respectful awe.  “I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it call itself my home, my fatherland or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can using for my defense the only arms

Good afternoon, fellow readers! This week I read books from many different genres and eras, from a Baroque treatise to a modern screwball comedy. One common thread in these works was the human tendency to obscure, knowingly or unknowingly, the truth. I hope my reviews aren’t too much of a misrepresentation: The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco As the apocalypse looms, two monks investigate the lethal secrets of a wealthy abbey. One of those books which is more smart than enjoyable, but mystery fans will love the labyrinthine plot and fellow nerds will admire the semiotic shenanigans. “It is a hard thing for this old monk, on the threshold of death, not to know whether the letter he has written contains some hidden meaning, or more than one, or many, or none at all” (610)   Hopkins by Gerard Manley Hopkins The poetry (and selected prose) of the Victorian poet-priest famous for his use of sprung rhythm. Where every other Victorian poet composes their lines, Hopkins discovers them. “For

Fellow readers, today was a week of plays! I read four books this week, and three of them were scripts. The last one was a book of essays that I really enjoyed. Since I spent this week travelling, the fast pace of the stories helped me stay busy: The Strong Breed by Wole Soyinka Pursued by his in-laws, an outsider relives the events that led him to abandon his Yoruba community and become the scapegoat for a foreign village. The plot is genuinely thrilling, but I wish Soyinka had lingered a little longer on the pathos of his female characters, who perpetuate (or fail to prevent) the bloody climax of the play. “EMAN: A man must go on his own, where no one can help him, and test his strength. Because he may find himself one day sitting alone in a wall round such as that. In there, my mind could hold no other thought. I may never have such moments again to myself. Don’t dare come to steal any more of it” (591) Roosters by Milcha Sanchez Scott A Hispanic-American family is (almost) severe

Hi, fellow readers! School is almost over (thank goodness!) and summer reading has begun. As I mentioned in my last post, I have altered my reviewing style for this summer. Instead of writing full-length reviews, I am posting weekly recaps of everything I read. This is the first one. This week, I finished a book and two plays: Kokoro by Natsume Sōseki As the Meiji Era draws to a close, a young student uncovers the tragic past of an older man known only as “Sensei.” Meredith Mckinney’s clean, beautiful translation sweeps over Sōseki’s quiet little story like a searchlight scanning the soft underside of a stormcloud —and damn, what a storm! “Now I will wrench open my heart and pour its blood over you. I will be satisfied if, when my own heart has ceased to beat, your breast houses new life” (124) The Laramie Project by Moisés Kaufman The town of Laramie, Wyoming, where Matthew Shepard was beaten to death in 1998, bears witness to a group of actor-anthropologists. This play reminds me o

The 2020-2021 school year has transformed the way I read and write, all thanks to this blog. When my AP Lang teacher encouraged us to publish our classwork online, I created the website “Sherbert Illuminated” and started posting book reviews alongside my assignments. At the time, books were the most interesting part of my life: I’d started a serious campaign of reading in the summer of 2020 and since then had discovered new favorites and literary trashfires. I figured that if I could learn to communicate my love (or hatred) for a work, I’d become a more thoughtful reader. Heck, I might even refine my writing style. My speculations proved correct: over the course of the year, the quality of my writing improved dramatically. I developed a stronger line of reasoning, added supplementary quotes and images, and even started reading my reviews aloud before publishing them. Since I began Sherbert Illuminated in October, I’ve written more than 60 essays, and I’m particularly pleased with my mo

Before I begin my review, I’d like to thank Ms. Byrne for being such a generous and knowledgeable teacher. When I described my plan to explore the origins of the Dark Academia subgenre, you recommended me this book and let me borrow it from your personal library. It’s teachers like you who make the world a great place to read about! “I have long learnt to accept that the fiction that professionally always pleased me least (a dissatisfaction strongly endorsed by many of its original reviewers) persists in attracting a majority of my readers most” (5) Thus saith John Fowles in the introduction to his 1965 debut novel The Magus . And although I am disinclined to concur on any topic with the acclaimed British postmodernist, I agree in one respect: those early reviewers had the right idea. Fowles is known for The French Lieutenant’s Woman and Daniel Martin , but the book I found today represents the worst qualities of ‘classic’ literature. It draws from a variety of sources, including Henr