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theresidentbookworm's reviews
1765 reviews
The Opposite of Loneliness: Essays and Stories by Marina Keegan
5.0
No matter what the situation, I never feel quite right when people my age die. You shouldn't die at seventeen or nineteen or twenty-two. Your parents should never have to bury you. What always gets me when I read about school shootings or massacres or bombings involving young people is the small description a family member or friend gives of them. If you die at 80, you have a detailed obituary with your accomplishments and the family you left behind, but what can you leave behind when you've barely started to live? "She was a kind soul." "He was studying to be a doctor." Most people who die young don't have much left to remember them by, but Marina Keegan did. She left behind an impressive body of work that became this book, and that's how we'll remember her.
Her untimely death notwithstanding, Keegan was a good writer. Heck, she might've been a great writer one day. More than that, she had potential. I felt like I was reading someone who could have been an authentic voice for my generation, a writer who knew how I felt. I read in the introduction by her professor that Marina refused to compromise on anything. She knew how she wanted to sound, and she fought to keep her voice hers and not have it become someone else's. I personally think she was correct to fight so hard. Keegan had a funny, clever voice. Her observations about life and love feel real and genuine. They feel like something a girl in her early twenties would write.
I did think the nonfiction was superior to the fiction, but I still enjoyed both. Keegan knew how to tell her stories, and simple things such as all the junk in her car became poignant and interesting in her hands. She would have made a great memoirist. The best piece by far, however, is the title essay, her Yale graduation speech, The Opposite of Loneliness. If you never read this book, you might still hear parts of this speech. It was quoted by someone at my high school graduation (which was a little funny to me since I finished this book that morning). It is hard not to feel something when you read her hopes and dreams for the future and her reassurances this is just the start.
“We're so young. We're so young. We're twenty-two years old. We have so much time. There's this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lie alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out - that it is somehow too late. That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. That it's too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.” It is hard to read that and believe that four days later this girl was dead. It doesn't seem possible. What she said is still true though. It is still true.
I have heard people debate this book's literary merit and whether or not is any good or if we just read it because she was young and talented and died too soon but left behind a famous speech. I don't think those things matter. The people who write books shape them, no matter the circumstances. Would The Bell Jar still be an illuminating take on mental illness if Sylvia Plath was in her right mind? Would The Great Gatsby still be luxurious and full of excess if F. Scott Fitzgerald hadn't lived the life he had in the 20s? Those things did happen, and we do have those books. How much we have to look at the author is for each reader to decide, but it isn't nothing. Especially here, it isn't nothing.
Highly recommended!
Her untimely death notwithstanding, Keegan was a good writer. Heck, she might've been a great writer one day. More than that, she had potential. I felt like I was reading someone who could have been an authentic voice for my generation, a writer who knew how I felt. I read in the introduction by her professor that Marina refused to compromise on anything. She knew how she wanted to sound, and she fought to keep her voice hers and not have it become someone else's. I personally think she was correct to fight so hard. Keegan had a funny, clever voice. Her observations about life and love feel real and genuine. They feel like something a girl in her early twenties would write.
I did think the nonfiction was superior to the fiction, but I still enjoyed both. Keegan knew how to tell her stories, and simple things such as all the junk in her car became poignant and interesting in her hands. She would have made a great memoirist. The best piece by far, however, is the title essay, her Yale graduation speech, The Opposite of Loneliness. If you never read this book, you might still hear parts of this speech. It was quoted by someone at my high school graduation (which was a little funny to me since I finished this book that morning). It is hard not to feel something when you read her hopes and dreams for the future and her reassurances this is just the start.
“We're so young. We're so young. We're twenty-two years old. We have so much time. There's this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lie alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out - that it is somehow too late. That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. That it's too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.” It is hard to read that and believe that four days later this girl was dead. It doesn't seem possible. What she said is still true though. It is still true.
I have heard people debate this book's literary merit and whether or not is any good or if we just read it because she was young and talented and died too soon but left behind a famous speech. I don't think those things matter. The people who write books shape them, no matter the circumstances. Would The Bell Jar still be an illuminating take on mental illness if Sylvia Plath was in her right mind? Would The Great Gatsby still be luxurious and full of excess if F. Scott Fitzgerald hadn't lived the life he had in the 20s? Those things did happen, and we do have those books. How much we have to look at the author is for each reader to decide, but it isn't nothing. Especially here, it isn't nothing.
Highly recommended!
We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
5.0
I was in middle school the first time I called myself a feminist. I understood the basics of what that word meant, and I knew I believed in equality for men and women. I didn't think there was anything radical or odd about what I was saying, but middle school boys taught me otherwise. They jeered at me, called me names, told me to go make them a sandwich to make me angry. This just made me even more determined to be a feminist even when my friends tried to persuade me to let it go. I knew even then that it wasn't okay for boys to treat me badly even when everyone else thought it was just natural behavior. It wasn't and still isn't. I came home crying, and that was not okay. My friends did not understand what I meant by saying I was a feminist because they associated feminism with angry women who hated men and yelled loudly about it. It wasn't until we got to high school that many of them told me they couldn't believe they had thought how those boys treated me was okay. They understood feminism more now.
If I could, I would press a copy of We Should All Be Feminists in every young girl's hands. My own loving mother pressed it into my hands as a Valentine's Day present. How can you not love my mom? For the world's most corporate, manufactured romantic holiday, my mom bought copies of this book for me and my friends. (Mom, I love you. You rock!) Sweden has already taken the initiative and given copies to all the girls in high school there. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's adapted TED Talk addresses feminism eloquently and honestly. She said everything women have always been thinking about gender barriers and inequality. These problems do exist everywhere, no matter where you go. I attended all girls' Catholic high school that encouraged us to assume leadership roles and make a difference in the world, and yet there were girls in my government class who did not believe that a woman could be president. They did not believe that women could assume those kind of leadership positions. As Adichie points out,“If we do something over and over, it becomes normal. If we see the same thing over and over, it becomes normal. If only boys are made class monitor, then at some point we will all think, even if unconsciously, that the class monitor has to be a boy.”
As I read We Should All Be Feminists, I couldn't help but think about Roxane Gay's book of essays Bad Feminist. They are somewhat similar in their content, but these two writers have different ideas and lenses through which they see the world. It is encouraging to me that we can have both Roxane Gay and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, that feminism has so many different voices and faces. We are not just one look and one view-point. A feminist can like lip-gloss and high heels or she can hate them. She can love Marvel movies or prefer romantic comedies. Or maybe she likes both. Once again, Adichie knows where it is at: “I have chosen to no longer be apologetic for my femaleness and my femininity. And I want to be respected in all of my femaleness because I deserve to be.”
Adichie defines feminism like this: "My own definition is a feminist is a man or a woman who says, yes, there’s a problem with gender as it is today and we must fix it, we must do better. All of us, women and men, must do better.” Here's how I define it: men and women should be paid equally for doing the same work. No means no when it comes to sex, and silence doesn't equal yes. What I'm wearing does not matter. How much I have or have not had to drink doesn't matter. Girls can play with Legos and boys can play with Barbies if they chose. Girls did not have feel ashamed for being confident or assertive. Boys don't have to be overly masculine or shy away from vulnerability. I am not how I look, what I wear, or who I sleep with. I am how I act and how I think and how I treat the people around me. It's as simple and as complicate as that.
I wish I could give my past self this book. I wish I could give it to the girls I went to school with. I hope I can give it to my future nieces and nephews and children one day. I highly recommend everyone make this their nonfiction read this year. If you're more of a visual person, please watch Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's TED Talk of the same title. I just want to end this review with the quote that resonated most with me.
“We teach girls shame. “Close your legs. Cover yourself.” We make them feel as though being born female they’re already guilty of something. And so, girls grow up to be women who cannot say they have desire. They grow up to be women who silence themselves. They grow up to be women who cannot say what they truly think. And they grow up — and this is the worst thing we do to girls — they grow up to be women who have turned pretense into an art form.”
If I could, I would press a copy of We Should All Be Feminists in every young girl's hands. My own loving mother pressed it into my hands as a Valentine's Day present. How can you not love my mom? For the world's most corporate, manufactured romantic holiday, my mom bought copies of this book for me and my friends. (Mom, I love you. You rock!) Sweden has already taken the initiative and given copies to all the girls in high school there. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's adapted TED Talk addresses feminism eloquently and honestly. She said everything women have always been thinking about gender barriers and inequality. These problems do exist everywhere, no matter where you go. I attended all girls' Catholic high school that encouraged us to assume leadership roles and make a difference in the world, and yet there were girls in my government class who did not believe that a woman could be president. They did not believe that women could assume those kind of leadership positions. As Adichie points out,“If we do something over and over, it becomes normal. If we see the same thing over and over, it becomes normal. If only boys are made class monitor, then at some point we will all think, even if unconsciously, that the class monitor has to be a boy.”
As I read We Should All Be Feminists, I couldn't help but think about Roxane Gay's book of essays Bad Feminist. They are somewhat similar in their content, but these two writers have different ideas and lenses through which they see the world. It is encouraging to me that we can have both Roxane Gay and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, that feminism has so many different voices and faces. We are not just one look and one view-point. A feminist can like lip-gloss and high heels or she can hate them. She can love Marvel movies or prefer romantic comedies. Or maybe she likes both. Once again, Adichie knows where it is at: “I have chosen to no longer be apologetic for my femaleness and my femininity. And I want to be respected in all of my femaleness because I deserve to be.”
Adichie defines feminism like this: "My own definition is a feminist is a man or a woman who says, yes, there’s a problem with gender as it is today and we must fix it, we must do better. All of us, women and men, must do better.” Here's how I define it: men and women should be paid equally for doing the same work. No means no when it comes to sex, and silence doesn't equal yes. What I'm wearing does not matter. How much I have or have not had to drink doesn't matter. Girls can play with Legos and boys can play with Barbies if they chose. Girls did not have feel ashamed for being confident or assertive. Boys don't have to be overly masculine or shy away from vulnerability. I am not how I look, what I wear, or who I sleep with. I am how I act and how I think and how I treat the people around me. It's as simple and as complicate as that.
I wish I could give my past self this book. I wish I could give it to the girls I went to school with. I hope I can give it to my future nieces and nephews and children one day. I highly recommend everyone make this their nonfiction read this year. If you're more of a visual person, please watch Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's TED Talk of the same title. I just want to end this review with the quote that resonated most with me.
“We teach girls shame. “Close your legs. Cover yourself.” We make them feel as though being born female they’re already guilty of something. And so, girls grow up to be women who cannot say they have desire. They grow up to be women who silence themselves. They grow up to be women who cannot say what they truly think. And they grow up — and this is the worst thing we do to girls — they grow up to be women who have turned pretense into an art form.”
Heidi by Johanna Spyri
4.0
A childhood favorite of mine, I found this copy at a used bookstore. Though both my parents thought I was crazy, I paid the forty books for this copy just because it was old and beautiful. I love my parents, but they're not book people like me.
I love just the simplicity of Heidi. There is no huge plot twists or flashy things drawing readers in. It's just a story about a girl and her grandfather and the little home they share. It's a story about love and friendship and family. It's about taking a grumpy old man and turning his heart soft. It's about being a friend to a sick little girl even at costs to yourself. Most of all, it's a story of kindness. The world needs more stories like Heidi's.
I always recommend Heidi. Anybody, and I mean anybody, can read Heidi and understand it. The language doesn't play tricks. It means what it says, and I say it's awesome.
I love just the simplicity of Heidi. There is no huge plot twists or flashy things drawing readers in. It's just a story about a girl and her grandfather and the little home they share. It's a story about love and friendship and family. It's about taking a grumpy old man and turning his heart soft. It's about being a friend to a sick little girl even at costs to yourself. Most of all, it's a story of kindness. The world needs more stories like Heidi's.
I always recommend Heidi. Anybody, and I mean anybody, can read Heidi and understand it. The language doesn't play tricks. It means what it says, and I say it's awesome.
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
4.0
I was a sophomore when I read Great Expectations for my British Literature class. I read it once before, maybe in middle school, but it didn't really click with me then. It wasn't until the reread that I learned to appreciate Dickens and more importantly his characters.
Let me make this clear: I DO NOT CARE ABOUT PIP. Or Joe. Or Pip's mean-spirited sister who is karmically punished and left as an invalid. Or the convict. No, my appreciation of Great Expectations come from two minor characters: Miss Havisham and Estella. Oh, where should I start with these two women? Okay, I'll start with Miss Havisham. I don't think Dickens has ever created a creepier character. As a writer, this description of an old, jilted women who wears her old wedding dress, her wedding feast still on her table, cobwebs on the candlesticks, rotting herself as the food does, is just too delicious. Dickens was the master of character description. I hate watching adaptions of this book because I have a Miss Havisham perfectly envisioned in my mind from his words. I loved reading about her: this women who adopts a child and raises her to break hearts, who nurtures poison in her heart. Just the psychology of this women is interesting. I would have read a novel just about her, which is why I was so disappointed when (in typical Dickenesque fashion) she is punished for her wickedness. Dickens always punishes the most interesting character.
That brings me to Estella, my favorite Dickens character. Some might argue there is not a lot to Estella: she's beautiful and cruel, her purpose being to torture Pip. I would call you an idiot because there are little hints of humanity in her, hints that you might miss if you're not looking. I do like her for her cruelty though. I think she is a Natasha Romanoff before there was Marvel (minus the butt-kicking). When Estella is in a room full of men, she is the queen among pawns. She knows exactly how to push and pull on their (particularly Pip's) affections. When it comes to Pip, however, her humanity finds its way to the surface. She feel something for this strange boy even if she can't admit. She repeatedly warns him away from her, tells him not to love her, tries to save him even she knows he won't listen. Estella doesn't know how to use her heart, not yet, but she knows she doesn't want to break Pip's. Like the other wicked woman of the novel, she is punished for her cruelty, but Dickens is kinder to her. After all, she can't help what she has been made into. In the revised ending (which the publishers insisted on because the original wasn't happy enough), Estella and Pip meet again. Estella has been mistreated by Drummle. She no longer has a fence around her heart. Instead, she has learned how to use it, prompting my favorite line of the novel: “Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.”
I recommend Great Expectations just for these two characters, though I suppose the other stuff is good too. Dickens is Dickens after all.
Let me make this clear: I DO NOT CARE ABOUT PIP. Or Joe. Or Pip's mean-spirited sister who is karmically punished and left as an invalid. Or the convict. No, my appreciation of Great Expectations come from two minor characters: Miss Havisham and Estella. Oh, where should I start with these two women? Okay, I'll start with Miss Havisham. I don't think Dickens has ever created a creepier character. As a writer, this description of an old, jilted women who wears her old wedding dress, her wedding feast still on her table, cobwebs on the candlesticks, rotting herself as the food does, is just too delicious. Dickens was the master of character description. I hate watching adaptions of this book because I have a Miss Havisham perfectly envisioned in my mind from his words. I loved reading about her: this women who adopts a child and raises her to break hearts, who nurtures poison in her heart. Just the psychology of this women is interesting. I would have read a novel just about her, which is why I was so disappointed when (in typical Dickenesque fashion) she is punished for her wickedness. Dickens always punishes the most interesting character.
That brings me to Estella, my favorite Dickens character. Some might argue there is not a lot to Estella: she's beautiful and cruel, her purpose being to torture Pip. I would call you an idiot because there are little hints of humanity in her, hints that you might miss if you're not looking. I do like her for her cruelty though. I think she is a Natasha Romanoff before there was Marvel (minus the butt-kicking). When Estella is in a room full of men, she is the queen among pawns. She knows exactly how to push and pull on their (particularly Pip's) affections. When it comes to Pip, however, her humanity finds its way to the surface. She feel something for this strange boy even if she can't admit. She repeatedly warns him away from her, tells him not to love her, tries to save him even she knows he won't listen. Estella doesn't know how to use her heart, not yet, but she knows she doesn't want to break Pip's. Like the other wicked woman of the novel, she is punished for her cruelty, but Dickens is kinder to her. After all, she can't help what she has been made into. In the revised ending (which the publishers insisted on because the original wasn't happy enough), Estella and Pip meet again. Estella has been mistreated by Drummle. She no longer has a fence around her heart. Instead, she has learned how to use it, prompting my favorite line of the novel: “Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.”
I recommend Great Expectations just for these two characters, though I suppose the other stuff is good too. Dickens is Dickens after all.
Fever 1793 by Laurie Halse Anderson
5.0
Fever 1793 might be the most underrated of Laurie Halse Anderson's historical fiction, and how sad that is. I first read Fever 1793 when I found it in one of my teachers' libraries in a desperate search for something to read. I discovered a lot of good historical fiction that way. This was my introduction to Anderson, and it definitely set the bar of things to come.
Very few people write about the yellow fever epidemic of 1793. It's become a side-note of history, something that is in-between the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. Anderson tackles the subject with her usual dedication to detail and research. Mattie is relatable while still fitting in the time she lives in. She wants to have her own coffee shop where people can gather and a library of her own. She is stuck, however, under the controlling (but loving?) thumb of her mother. News of the fever starts to spread, and soon Mattie is forced to flee with her grandfather. She turns without him with no knowledge of her mother's fate, having to survive in a city ravaged by epidemic.
Mattie's struggles and dreams drive the story forward, but I was more interested in the time the novel was set. Anderson perfectly depicts what Philadelphia must have been like during that epidemic. Of course, the French have the better way to treat yellow fever (aka the ways that actually make logical sense) than Dr. Rush's (very very dumb) infective treatment of leaching the sick and then leaving them for dead. Gee, why wouldn't that work. There is a perfect amount of suspense in the novel, and Mattie grows up as her city heals.
Highly recommended!
Very few people write about the yellow fever epidemic of 1793. It's become a side-note of history, something that is in-between the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. Anderson tackles the subject with her usual dedication to detail and research. Mattie is relatable while still fitting in the time she lives in. She wants to have her own coffee shop where people can gather and a library of her own. She is stuck, however, under the controlling (but loving?) thumb of her mother. News of the fever starts to spread, and soon Mattie is forced to flee with her grandfather. She turns without him with no knowledge of her mother's fate, having to survive in a city ravaged by epidemic.
Mattie's struggles and dreams drive the story forward, but I was more interested in the time the novel was set. Anderson perfectly depicts what Philadelphia must have been like during that epidemic. Of course, the French have the better way to treat yellow fever (aka the ways that actually make logical sense) than Dr. Rush's (very very dumb) infective treatment of leaching the sick and then leaving them for dead. Gee, why wouldn't that work. There is a perfect amount of suspense in the novel, and Mattie grows up as her city heals.
Highly recommended!
When Will This Cruel War Be Over?: The Civil War Diary of Emma Simpson, Gordonsville, Virginia, 1864 by Barry Denenberg
4.0
I'm a huge fan of the Dear America series, and this was probably one of my favorites. I enjoyed the Southern perspective that's really rare. Emma was a great narrator. Definitely recommended!
Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes
2.0
Okay, so here's the deal: I know I have read Johnny Tremain. I know I have read Johnny Tremain more than once. I remember reading it for school, and I know the general plot. But I don't remember reading it. I don't remember any of my thoughts reading it or how I felt about it. I don't remember caring. What I remember is not being able to watch the movie version with my class in the fifth grade. I was being punished for something (I can't remember what for), and I got to see the last end for some reason anyway. That's all I have to say about Johnny Tremain.
Or Give Me Death: A Novel of Patrick Henry's Family by Ann Rinaldi
3.0
Ann Rinaldi is a fantastic writer, and I've never not enjoyed one of her novels. They are all fascinating and exceptionally well researched, and Or Give Me Death was no different. The story starts in the eldest Henry daughter Patsy's narrative just when Sarah Henry is starting to lose her mind. I thought it was really interesting to see how mental illness was handled back then, especially in a family where the dad was famous and their reputation important. Rinaldi always does a great job of probing behind famous figures in history and seeing what their families are really like. Patrick Henry was absent most of the time, but at least he had the decency not to lock his wife up in an asylum. I didn't really care for Patsy's narrative. She was a little too whinny and mean to her siblings. Anne, on the other hand, was lively and spirited, her narrative showing a wide range of emotions. This is where the true story really starts, and Rinaldi would've been better off starting it here. Anne struggles with a dangerous secret, and it's slowly ripping her apart. The Henry family dynamic is complicated, and Anne is constantly domineered by Patsy. The only real thing that bugged me about Anne's narrative was the unexplored romance only mentioned once.
Another wonderful effort by Rinaldi! Recommended.
Another wonderful effort by Rinaldi! Recommended.
Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier
4.0
The image of Vermeer's Girl With a Pearl Earring is well-known by most around the world. I know I have seen it several times before. Still, when my teacher pulled up a large image of this painting, I couldn't help but be captivated. The girl's expressive eyes, her curious (and somewhat piercing) gaze, made me think. I wondered who she was, who she had been looking at, why was she wearing a pearl earring, etc. Then I realized why Tracy Chevalier had been compelled to write this book.
Chevalier did extraordinary research on a figure we know little about historically. Most of what is included in the novel (his family, patronage, financial problems, painting methods) are true from what we know. Of course, we do not know who modeled for Girl With a Pearl Earring. We do not know if it was an lady or a commissioner's daughter or even a maid named Griet. Of course, this isn't really Chevalier's concern because this is historical fiction for a reason. The detail put into the most minute things is tremendous. I thought it was clever Griet's smallest observations about what being painted actually matched up to the real-life Vermeer paintings. I didn't catch on until halfway through the novel, but once I did I Googled Vermeer's paintings and looked at them. It helped me tremendously in picturing the atmosphere of the studio. Griet's perspective as the only Protestant in a house full of Catholics in the 17th century was intriguing to me for obvious reasons. I gained a lot of valuable information from that perspective. For example, I didn't know Protestants were uncomfortable with religious depictions in artwork.
Though the story Chevalier tells is dynamic and thought-provoking, her characters do not always come out the same way. Griet and I have many barriers separating us already, time period and social structure being one. I felt as if another barrier had been put up between us as she told her story. Though smart and full of life in her own way, Griet keeps everyone at a distance. She is tightly coiled, and though many would've not created a character such as Griet for this story, I think it serves both the painting and the plot justice. It would've been all too easy to have the two fall into an explosive love affair that created such a sensual painting. Instead, Chevalier stays true to her source material: Girl with a Pearl Earring. In the painting, the girl is very restrained, not moving her mouth or her hands, just piercing us with her gaze. The romance between Vermeer and Griet is summed up in that word: restraint. Vermeer himself is kept ambiguous, suiting both Griet's position as a maid and Chevalier's own desire to keep the painter mysterious due to the lack of information on him. Some would find this annoying, but I think it to be a thoughtful character development decision.
The supporting cast is just as detailed as the artist and his muse. Catherina is spoiled and selfish, to be sure, but ultimately she is unhatable to me. After all, she has to deal with the high and lows of being married to an artist, one who produces only three paintings a year when they have many children and keep having more. Cornelia is a very vindictive little girl, but even her actions are understood. She just wants attention from her father in the place she'll never get it: the studio. Catherina and Cornelia's jealousy of Griet stems from the servant's secured place in the studio. Griet's parents are realistically drawn and infinitely sad, her father blinded and her mother grieving over the loss of Griet's younger sister Agnes. My favorite character was Pieter the son, though I felt like he was cheapened a little bit by Griet. What he offered her wasn't bad: an independent life with a husband that would understand and never ask the painful questions. I think Griet realized that in the end and loved him in her own way, but I still can't understand her fascination with the man she could never even think of as anything but her master
Compelling, detailed, and heartbreaking, you definitely want to read Girl with a Pearl Earring. It's a fascinating guess to the back story of a remarkable painting. I'm looking forward to seeing if the movie does it justice.
Chevalier did extraordinary research on a figure we know little about historically. Most of what is included in the novel (his family, patronage, financial problems, painting methods) are true from what we know. Of course, we do not know who modeled for Girl With a Pearl Earring. We do not know if it was an lady or a commissioner's daughter or even a maid named Griet. Of course, this isn't really Chevalier's concern because this is historical fiction for a reason. The detail put into the most minute things is tremendous. I thought it was clever Griet's smallest observations about what being painted actually matched up to the real-life Vermeer paintings. I didn't catch on until halfway through the novel, but once I did I Googled Vermeer's paintings and looked at them. It helped me tremendously in picturing the atmosphere of the studio. Griet's perspective as the only Protestant in a house full of Catholics in the 17th century was intriguing to me for obvious reasons. I gained a lot of valuable information from that perspective. For example, I didn't know Protestants were uncomfortable with religious depictions in artwork.
Though the story Chevalier tells is dynamic and thought-provoking, her characters do not always come out the same way. Griet and I have many barriers separating us already, time period and social structure being one. I felt as if another barrier had been put up between us as she told her story. Though smart and full of life in her own way, Griet keeps everyone at a distance. She is tightly coiled, and though many would've not created a character such as Griet for this story, I think it serves both the painting and the plot justice. It would've been all too easy to have the two fall into an explosive love affair that created such a sensual painting. Instead, Chevalier stays true to her source material: Girl with a Pearl Earring. In the painting, the girl is very restrained, not moving her mouth or her hands, just piercing us with her gaze. The romance between Vermeer and Griet is summed up in that word: restraint. Vermeer himself is kept ambiguous, suiting both Griet's position as a maid and Chevalier's own desire to keep the painter mysterious due to the lack of information on him. Some would find this annoying, but I think it to be a thoughtful character development decision.
The supporting cast is just as detailed as the artist and his muse. Catherina is spoiled and selfish, to be sure, but ultimately she is unhatable to me. After all, she has to deal with the high and lows of being married to an artist, one who produces only three paintings a year when they have many children and keep having more. Cornelia is a very vindictive little girl, but even her actions are understood. She just wants attention from her father in the place she'll never get it: the studio. Catherina and Cornelia's jealousy of Griet stems from the servant's secured place in the studio. Griet's parents are realistically drawn and infinitely sad, her father blinded and her mother grieving over the loss of Griet's younger sister Agnes. My favorite character was Pieter the son, though I felt like he was cheapened a little bit by Griet. What he offered her wasn't bad: an independent life with a husband that would understand and never ask the painful questions. I think Griet realized that in the end and loved him in her own way, but I still can't understand her fascination with the man she could never even think of as anything but her master
Compelling, detailed, and heartbreaking, you definitely want to read Girl with a Pearl Earring. It's a fascinating guess to the back story of a remarkable painting. I'm looking forward to seeing if the movie does it justice.