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The Zahir (Paulo Coelho)

Esther, a war correspondent and wife of a famous writer, disappears without a trace. Marriage has been moving away after the famous writer hiciese gradually concern of the journalist grows to the point that no one returns from their perilous journeys.
The writer is aware that probably you have not experienced anything bad to his wife, alleged to have decided to change his life and has left him without the slightest departure. As time passes, the writer tries to rebuild her life, but the memory of Esther whenever occupies more space in your mind to become an obsession.

The last book I read by Coelho did not leave me too much good taste ("The Witch of Portobello", commented in this blog), so "The Zahir" remained on the shelf waiting to be read during months. He was reading "The Aleph" Borges (also discussed in this blog) which reawakened my interest in addressing reading this book. In the story of the same name Borges explained that a zahir is an object, place or person that may seem trivial but is slowly occupying more space in the mind of a person until he covers all his thoughts, is a kind of obsession that prevents the subject focus on anything other than "the zahir".
in Coelho's book, "the zahir" is his wife, which was a disappointment for me: in the Borges story implied that usually an irrelevant startup object for the life of the sufferer. From this point view Borges Coelho and perverts the idea that the obsession with a missing wife is a common reaction completely understandable.
The first part of the book seemed slow, very lack of pace. He gave me the impression that reading a set of autobiographical texts where the author presents an aspect of his view of life. The similarities between the life of the writer protagonist Coelho and beyond his profession: youth of success as a songwriter, later stage of lawlessness and loss of direction, mystical journey to Santiago de Compostela and start as a writer narrating their experiences in his pilgrimage ...

As I said in my review of "The Witch Portobello, Coelho wrote his books around a central idea repeated over and over again like a mantra, sometimes the stories seem a mere excuse to spread the message. In this work, the message is a reflection on love in family : love relationships, after a phase of initial passion stabilize, are accommodated to the extent that the couple united by continuous simple inertia or because it is the easiest way.
I must admit that in the first part, the book I bored enough. In the second, the narrative is encouraging and ends with good (and even funny) final chapters.
What I liked was a secondary message (because in the main, love, do not share the views of the author): the cynical view of the writer on the success, awards, social gatherings, interviews where questions and answers are always the same.

My rating: interesting.

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The Sound and the Fury (William Faulkner)

" Caddy is gone is gone home from our house is not stable've tried to see the barn from
fault was she pushed me she has escaped
you look as if I can I can Oh
blood or my blood Oh
continue walking on the fine dust, fine dust from our feet silent as rubber where the trees hung sunlight pencils "

I have not found a better introduction to this book serves as a fragment that shows the true martyrdom for which I spent to get finished. If anything has made this reading is an example of what should NOT be the literature: elitist, parochial, twisted and vain.
me explain. I started looking forward to reading, but after the first few pages had only one thing clear: that I learned nothing of what was being told. My hypothesis was that the story was told in first person by Benjy, a two or three years. About twenty pages later I discovered I was wrong, because apparently the "protagonist" met thirties. Could only be retarded.
I endured stoically throughout the first part (ninety pages) with the hope that the second should explain something. And indeed changed ... for the worse. Instead of the experiences of a now delayed recounted a day in the life of his brother Quentin, much more intelligent (Harvard student) but with a serious mental disorder. The passage I have set an example belongs to this section of the book and will serve as proof that what I say is true. Are the most insufferable pages read, I often wondered what am I doing wasting time reading this? Disjointed sentences in a vague Quentin day without a clear objective, memories without dots or commas, constant in the spatial and temporal. I must admit that I was about to give up many times and only got to go based on self-esteem and critical thinking about the future than it did on this blog.
At two hundred! comes the third part pages. Another brother in first person, a gem too: misogynist, racist and ultra-conservative but at least you find out what it does and more or less what it does.
Faulkner In the last part takes over as narrator and the novel ends with an alleged "climax" that did nothing to disappoint for the umpteenth time.

In the appendix, the author clarifies the role of each of the characters. Faulkner felt like laughing at me, amazing his audacity: it keeps the reader been tortured for three hundred fifty pages to explain to his humble intellect incomprehensible speech in a few paragraphs.
How does this work has been published? What editor would not read five pages and throw to trash the original? How have given the Nobel for literature to Faulkner? Why it is considered "the sound and fury" as one of the finest works of American literature and even one of the best English-language novels of all time? I only
explained by the snobbery, arrogance and vanity of writers and critics. After my feat of finishing the work, had two choices: or show off my vast culture, my experience and maturity as a player, boast of having enjoyed reading the great, immense, incredible Faulkner or be honest with myself and recognize I think a huge ... snafu.
A device to satisfy the ego of the author, most audacious novel, without a timeline, no spatial order, connected to Sheakespeare with interior monologues Joyce laugh from all points of view ... a vagary without interest, over a decadent and degenerate family.
I recommend leaving this book on the shelf indefinitely won dust and read anything else, except for readers especially masochistic or philology students whose reading depends on a pass.

My Rating: illegible.