New Year and the books that defeated you

I have a section in my bookcase, which I refer to as ‘The Monsters’.  These are the novels that for one reason or another have managed to totally defeat me. I often wonder what your Monster list says about you. There are always books that will defeat you, for one reason or another, I have three actual monsters that despite repeated attempts, have still managed to elude me in one way or another.

 In this pile of demons, is predictably Joyce’s Ulysses, my best foray with that particular book was page 213. The lack of punctuation makes it exhausting to read, to say the least. I cannot claim any kind of hatred or dislike of the book, quite the opposite in fact, which makes the total bamboozlement that little more annoying. The fact that the action takes place over one day, and reveals so much of the inner workings of the characters minds, is a truly innovative concept for its time. I have managed to read other Joyce novels with little issue, even the notorious Finnegan’s Wake, which although a tad odd, is still an interesting read.

Next on this hit list is Wuthering Heights. I have yet to figure out what it is about the book that looses me, but usually by page 50, I’m ready to wonder out onto the moors and start screaming for Cathy. To say I get confused by it is somewhat of an understatement. Yet again like Joyce, I have happily read other Bronte novels and enjoyed them. Just Wuthering Heights eludes me. The actual basis of the novel is one that I find curious, and I have managed to sit through adaptations of it, which in this case feels like somewhat of a cop out.

The final bête noir is War and Peace by Tolstoy. The names alone are hellish to follow. It also seems far too much like an A Level History class for my liking. After two years I still could not differentiate between Tsar Nicholas I or II, or Alexander I, I could only ever remember the last Tsar, as the Bolsheviks decided they didn’t like him so much.  Anna Karenina is easily one of my favourite novels, yet this particular masterpiece, is a total mystery to me.

So in the spirit of New Year’s resolutions, I have decided to do battle with these beasts one more time and attempt to read them cover to cover. I’m well aware that all three of my monsters are classics, and there are probably less highbrow books out there that would equally defeat me, but these three have sat and tormented me for more than a few years from their lofty position on the top shelf (out of sight, out of mind, does not work at all in this case).