Status
Available
Call number
Genres
Publication
Spiegel & Grau (2011), Edition: Reprint, 240 pages
Description
When Henry receives a letter from an elderly taxidermist, it poses a puzzle that he cannot resist. As he is pulled further into the world of this strange and calculating man, Henry becomes increasingly involved with the lives of a donkey and a howler monkey--named Beatrice and Virgil--and the epic journey they undertake together.
Media reviews
I'm sorry, but this allegory is no "Animal Farm" or "Watership Down." It's a cloying episode of "Winnie the Pooh" In Which Piglet and Rabbit Are Hacked Apart and Eaten. Martel's attempt to represent 6 million Jews with a pleasant donkey and a friendly monkey is just well-meaning sentimentality
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dressed up with postmodern doodads. "Beatrice and Virgil" does little to bring us closer to appreciating the plight of those victims or to fathoming the cruelty of their murderers. Whatever "artful metaphor" Martel began with, it ends up skinned and stuffed -- not alive, not even lifelike. Show Less
Mr. Martel’s new book, “Beatrice and Virgil,” unfortunately, is every bit as misconceived and offensive as his earlier book was fetching. It, too, features animals as central characters. It, too, involves a figure who in some respects resembles the author. It, too, is written in deceptively
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light, casual prose... Nonetheless, his story has the effect of trivializing the Holocaust, using it as a metaphor to evoke “the extermination of animal life” and the suffering of “doomed creatures” who “could not speak for themselves.” Show Less
As the Holocaust has forever recast our understanding of humanity and historiography, so might Beatrice & Virgil, which ingeniously ruptures the division between worlds real and imagined, forcing us to reconsider how we think of documentary writing. Forget what this book is “about”: Yann
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Martel's new novel not only opens us to the emotional and psychological truths of fiction, but also provides keys to open its fictions ourselves, and to become, in some way, active participants in their creation. Show Less
At the end, author Henry develops some "games", 12 questions posing moral quandaries: would you allow your son to endanger his life to try to save the rest of the family? If you knew people were about to be killed and you couldn't stop it, would you warn them? If only Martel had bothered to
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dramatise any of these dilemmas, he might have produced a novel that didn't show the limits of representation quite so painfully. Show Less
Beatrice and Virgil is a chilling addition to the literature about the horrors most of us cannot imagine, and will stir its readers to think about the depths of depravity to which humanity can sink and the amplitude of our capacity to survive.
Martel’s prose is never boring, and his authorial voice is as playful, witty, and downright smart as ever. Describing his predilection for including non-human characters in his work, Martel has Henry say: “We are cynical about our own species, but less so about animals, especially wild ones. We
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might not shelter them from habitat destruction, but we tend to shelter them from excessive irony.” Later, Henry the taxidermist is described as “serious and sober as a microscope.” There are few writers in Canada who can regularly pull off such sharp, musical phrasing. Martel’s description of a fox being skinned and prepped for mounting is a set-piece of surreal power, and much of the dialogue from the play fragments is both disturbingly hypnotic and touching. Show Less
User reviews
LibraryThing member cameling
This was an incredible exercise in transition. A transition from a whimsical tale of 2 animals, a howler monkey and a donkey, discussing the qualities of a pear to gradually more complex tale involving philosophy, morals and uncivilized horror.
It's difficult to review this without giving away
In between the play, the taxidermist explains the process behind his art. That was somewhat interesting, although I found some of the details rather gruesome.
This book was not what I expected ... in a good and thought provoking way.
It's difficult to review this without giving away
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spoilers, so all I will say is that a quiet and somber taxidermist invites a writer to read a short chapter of a play he'd been writing. The play involves the howler monkey and the donkey. Before long, the writer is intrigued, spends a great deal of time with the taxidermist and tries to understand the premise of his play and who the taxidermist really is. As he gets deeper and deeper into the play, the writer senses something gradually changing in the tone and in the changing scenes. He's not quite sure where it's going but he starts to fear for the monkey and the donkey ....and as the taxidermist uncovers more of his play, his fear gives way to horror as the truth behind the play is unveiled.In between the play, the taxidermist explains the process behind his art. That was somewhat interesting, although I found some of the details rather gruesome.
This book was not what I expected ... in a good and thought provoking way.
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LibraryThing member mrstreme
When Beatrice and Virgil was released in 2010, it received scathing reviews from critics. I had received an advanced reader's edition of Yann Martel's book, but after seeing such bad reviews, my copy of Beatrice and Virgil got relegated to the back of my shelf. When looking for a short book to
Beatrice and Virgil is a cerebral, philosophical novel that, at its core, is a Holocaust story. Henry is the narrator, and he is a highly successful author who wants to write a story about the Holocaust that is creative but raw. He comes up with a "flip book" that is part essay, part fiction. Certain that he created something brilliant, Henry was devastated to learn that his book would not be accepted by his publisher. Restless, Henry moves, takes up a job at a chocolate store and spends time answering fan letters. One day, he received a cryptic letter from someone locally, asking for help. Henry seeks out his fan, and he strikes up an odd friendship with the man, also named Henry, who was a taxidermist.
I won't reveal too much more about the plot, but suffice it to say that the last few pages had an unexpected turn. At least this reader didn't see it coming.
Critics blasted Martel for writing a Holocaust story as an animal allegory, trivializing these events through the torture of a donkey and a Howler monkey. I think the critics missed the point. Just like his main character, Martel devised a creative but raw story about the Holocaust that is provocative and gripping. There are parts of Beatrice and Virgil that will grab you by the throat (and be warned: a heart-wrenching scene of animal cruelty). By the end of the book, I felt quite convinced that Martel pulled it off.
So, decide for yourself if you think Beatrice and Virgil is a work of creativity or trivialization. For me, it was a work of pure creativity.
FTC: I received a copy of this book from the publisher for review on my blog.
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read, I found it and decided to give it a whirl, half expecting to stop after a few pages. Well, I finished the book in two sittings.Beatrice and Virgil is a cerebral, philosophical novel that, at its core, is a Holocaust story. Henry is the narrator, and he is a highly successful author who wants to write a story about the Holocaust that is creative but raw. He comes up with a "flip book" that is part essay, part fiction. Certain that he created something brilliant, Henry was devastated to learn that his book would not be accepted by his publisher. Restless, Henry moves, takes up a job at a chocolate store and spends time answering fan letters. One day, he received a cryptic letter from someone locally, asking for help. Henry seeks out his fan, and he strikes up an odd friendship with the man, also named Henry, who was a taxidermist.
I won't reveal too much more about the plot, but suffice it to say that the last few pages had an unexpected turn. At least this reader didn't see it coming.
Critics blasted Martel for writing a Holocaust story as an animal allegory, trivializing these events through the torture of a donkey and a Howler monkey. I think the critics missed the point. Just like his main character, Martel devised a creative but raw story about the Holocaust that is provocative and gripping. There are parts of Beatrice and Virgil that will grab you by the throat (and be warned: a heart-wrenching scene of animal cruelty). By the end of the book, I felt quite convinced that Martel pulled it off.
So, decide for yourself if you think Beatrice and Virgil is a work of creativity or trivialization. For me, it was a work of pure creativity.
FTC: I received a copy of this book from the publisher for review on my blog.
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LibraryThing member bnbooklady
Nine years after Life of Pi (which, by the way, completely rocked my world), Yann Martel brings us Beatrice and Virgil, one of the most anticipated novels of the year. Unfortunately, it is also one of the most disappointing. And believe me, this is not the review I hoped to be writing for this
Beatrice and Virgil is about Henry, a writer whose previous novel—a highly-acclaimed story that used animals to ask BIG QUESTIONS about humanity—earned him fame, wealth, and the desire to create something even better. If you’ve read Life of Pi, you’re thinking that Henry’s situation sounds pretty familiar right now….and that’s because it is, as Henry is basically Martel. Wanting to push the envelope further and maintain his reputation for philosophical writing, Henry has written a flip book about the Holocaust, in which one side of the book is a nonfiction essay, and the other side (which you read after flipping the book upside down and opening from the other cover) is fiction.
Henry’s publishers hate the book, primarily because they have no idea how to package and market something that does not fit neatly into one category, but according to Henry, they are missing the point. The important distinction is not the one between fiction and nonfiction.
The useful division is between the fiction and nonfiction that speaks the truth and the fiction and nonfiction that utters lies.
Martel, by proxy of Henry, is talking about fiction’s capacity to be, to borrow from Stephen Colbert’s lexicon, “truthier” than reality, and he is arguing for the importance of examining the Holocaust—a part of history left almost completely to nonfiction—through the lens of fiction.
Why this suspicion of the imagination, why the resistance to artful metaphor? A work of art works because it is true, not because it is real. Was there not a danger to representing the Holocaust in a way behold to factuality?
When one of the publishers asks Henry “What’s your book about?” he struggles to explain. They don’t seem to understand why he thinks it is so important to write fiction about the Holocaust, but Henry nails it with this:
If history doesn’t become story, it dies to everyone except the historian.
Henry goes on to explain that he used animals in his first novel because “speaking before his tribe, naked, he was only human and therefore possibly—likely—surely, a liar. But dressed in furs and feathers, he became a shaman and spoke a greater truth.” Martel is obviously talking about Life of Pi here, and I loved this part of the book, which shed new light on a story I love deeply and have read many times. But he is also setting up what he believes Beatrice and Virgil is going to accomplish, and I’m sorry to say that he fails to deliver.
So, after hitting a wall on the flip book, Henry agitates for a while, until, sorting his mail one day, he comes across an envelope containing pieces of the script for a play, a Flaubert story called “The Legend of Saint Julian the Hospitator,” and a note from another man named Henry, who says that he needs Henry-the-author’s help. Using the return address on the envelope, Henry sets off in search of his correspondent and meets Henry-the-taxidermist who has written a play about a monkey named Virgil and a donkey named Beatrice. Acknowledging the allusion to Dante, the taxidermist calls Beatrice and Virgil his “guides through hell,” and goes on to explain that he became a taxidermist in order to bear witness, “to see if something could be saved once the irreparable had been done.”
The taxidermist’s play has many charming moments, but it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and Henry becomes more frustrated with every meeting. Then the taxidermist shares a section of play that reveals Virgil is anxious. Very anxious. When questioned, the taxidermist reveals that Virgil is anxious “because he’s a howler monkey in a world that doesn’t want howler monkeys,” thereby confirming Henry’s growing suspicions that the taxidermist is doing what he, Henry, has been trying to do all along. He is writing a play about the Holocaust.
Beatrice and Virgil—the book—is beautifully written. Beatrice and Virgil—the play—provides an interesting if less-than-subtle and verging-on-insulting allegory to the Holocaust and a strong argument for the importance and power of fiction in helping us understand and cope with the unexplainable. Beatrice and Virgil have a conversation about how they are going to talk about what is happening to them when it’s all over, and they agree that they will refer to it as The Horrors. As for why they’ll talk about it:
VIRGIL: To talk-about so that we might live-with—I presume that’s why we want to do this?
BEATRICE: Yes. To remember and yet to go on living.
Yes!
As the discussion continues, the emotion, the pain and suffering, that Beatrice and Virgil share is just as palpable as if it were coming from human characters. In fact, it may be more so because our distance from them allows us to feel their experiences more deeply. Sure, the taxidermist is creepy and antisocial. And yes, his play has many problems. But he seems to be doing something that Henry/Martel hasn’t been able to figure out how to do.
But then.
Oh then.
Then, there is a twist that comes like a punch in the gut and recasts everything that precedes it. (Sort of like that twist at the end of Life of Pi, but with the opposite effect.)
And that is why I feel so ambivalent about this book. I loved—LOVED—the first fifty pages of Beatrice and Virgil and even tossed around the pantyworthy word to describe it. Henry/Martel’s meditation on how fiction works, why it is important, and the ways it allows us to approach and examine the parts of our lives and histories that are difficult to face in nonfiction is eloquent, and the writing is gorgeous. It just feels like the Martel that I loved for Life of Pi. But Henry’s relationship with the taxidermist is overwrought and over-written, and the taxidermist’s play has just as many weaknesses as it does strengths.
And that twist at the end changes EVERYTHING.
It shook me so deeply that I had to go back and re-read the last half of the book, and then I didn’t love Beatrice and Virgil so much. If Martel had foregone the whole Henry-as-thinly-veiled-character-for-himself thing and just published the first section of this book as an essay about fiction and a polemic for using fiction to address the Holocaust, I would have been all over it. The first part of this book is wonderful. The remainder of it is angsty (particularly in light of THE BIG TWIST), and self-important and seems intended to make readers feel like they must be missing something if they don’t love it.
I’m not falling for that trick this time. Martel has succeeded in giving us a book that begs to be discussed, and that is certainly an accomplishment, but the discussions are more likely to leave friends and book clubs banging their heads in frustration than they are to lead to any kind of agreement or furthering of the art of fiction. So, from this Book Lady, Martel gets points for the noble goal of Beatrice and Virgil and for explaining that goal so skillfully, but he fails to achieve what he says (through Henry) he is going to, and he makes some disturbing analogies, comparing Jews to helpless animals, along the way. Because I am truly ambivalent about this one, I’m rating it right in the middle of the scale at 2.5 out of 5.
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book. In fact, it’s not the review I thought I’d be writing as I read the first half of the book. But I’m getting ahead of myself.Beatrice and Virgil is about Henry, a writer whose previous novel—a highly-acclaimed story that used animals to ask BIG QUESTIONS about humanity—earned him fame, wealth, and the desire to create something even better. If you’ve read Life of Pi, you’re thinking that Henry’s situation sounds pretty familiar right now….and that’s because it is, as Henry is basically Martel. Wanting to push the envelope further and maintain his reputation for philosophical writing, Henry has written a flip book about the Holocaust, in which one side of the book is a nonfiction essay, and the other side (which you read after flipping the book upside down and opening from the other cover) is fiction.
Henry’s publishers hate the book, primarily because they have no idea how to package and market something that does not fit neatly into one category, but according to Henry, they are missing the point. The important distinction is not the one between fiction and nonfiction.
The useful division is between the fiction and nonfiction that speaks the truth and the fiction and nonfiction that utters lies.
Martel, by proxy of Henry, is talking about fiction’s capacity to be, to borrow from Stephen Colbert’s lexicon, “truthier” than reality, and he is arguing for the importance of examining the Holocaust—a part of history left almost completely to nonfiction—through the lens of fiction.
Why this suspicion of the imagination, why the resistance to artful metaphor? A work of art works because it is true, not because it is real. Was there not a danger to representing the Holocaust in a way behold to factuality?
When one of the publishers asks Henry “What’s your book about?” he struggles to explain. They don’t seem to understand why he thinks it is so important to write fiction about the Holocaust, but Henry nails it with this:
If history doesn’t become story, it dies to everyone except the historian.
Henry goes on to explain that he used animals in his first novel because “speaking before his tribe, naked, he was only human and therefore possibly—likely—surely, a liar. But dressed in furs and feathers, he became a shaman and spoke a greater truth.” Martel is obviously talking about Life of Pi here, and I loved this part of the book, which shed new light on a story I love deeply and have read many times. But he is also setting up what he believes Beatrice and Virgil is going to accomplish, and I’m sorry to say that he fails to deliver.
So, after hitting a wall on the flip book, Henry agitates for a while, until, sorting his mail one day, he comes across an envelope containing pieces of the script for a play, a Flaubert story called “The Legend of Saint Julian the Hospitator,” and a note from another man named Henry, who says that he needs Henry-the-author’s help. Using the return address on the envelope, Henry sets off in search of his correspondent and meets Henry-the-taxidermist who has written a play about a monkey named Virgil and a donkey named Beatrice. Acknowledging the allusion to Dante, the taxidermist calls Beatrice and Virgil his “guides through hell,” and goes on to explain that he became a taxidermist in order to bear witness, “to see if something could be saved once the irreparable had been done.”
The taxidermist’s play has many charming moments, but it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and Henry becomes more frustrated with every meeting. Then the taxidermist shares a section of play that reveals Virgil is anxious. Very anxious. When questioned, the taxidermist reveals that Virgil is anxious “because he’s a howler monkey in a world that doesn’t want howler monkeys,” thereby confirming Henry’s growing suspicions that the taxidermist is doing what he, Henry, has been trying to do all along. He is writing a play about the Holocaust.
Beatrice and Virgil—the book—is beautifully written. Beatrice and Virgil—the play—provides an interesting if less-than-subtle and verging-on-insulting allegory to the Holocaust and a strong argument for the importance and power of fiction in helping us understand and cope with the unexplainable. Beatrice and Virgil have a conversation about how they are going to talk about what is happening to them when it’s all over, and they agree that they will refer to it as The Horrors. As for why they’ll talk about it:
VIRGIL: To talk-about so that we might live-with—I presume that’s why we want to do this?
BEATRICE: Yes. To remember and yet to go on living.
Yes!
As the discussion continues, the emotion, the pain and suffering, that Beatrice and Virgil share is just as palpable as if it were coming from human characters. In fact, it may be more so because our distance from them allows us to feel their experiences more deeply. Sure, the taxidermist is creepy and antisocial. And yes, his play has many problems. But he seems to be doing something that Henry/Martel hasn’t been able to figure out how to do.
But then.
Oh then.
Then, there is a twist that comes like a punch in the gut and recasts everything that precedes it. (Sort of like that twist at the end of Life of Pi, but with the opposite effect.)
And that is why I feel so ambivalent about this book. I loved—LOVED—the first fifty pages of Beatrice and Virgil and even tossed around the pantyworthy word to describe it. Henry/Martel’s meditation on how fiction works, why it is important, and the ways it allows us to approach and examine the parts of our lives and histories that are difficult to face in nonfiction is eloquent, and the writing is gorgeous. It just feels like the Martel that I loved for Life of Pi. But Henry’s relationship with the taxidermist is overwrought and over-written, and the taxidermist’s play has just as many weaknesses as it does strengths.
And that twist at the end changes EVERYTHING.
It shook me so deeply that I had to go back and re-read the last half of the book, and then I didn’t love Beatrice and Virgil so much. If Martel had foregone the whole Henry-as-thinly-veiled-character-for-himself thing and just published the first section of this book as an essay about fiction and a polemic for using fiction to address the Holocaust, I would have been all over it. The first part of this book is wonderful. The remainder of it is angsty (particularly in light of THE BIG TWIST), and self-important and seems intended to make readers feel like they must be missing something if they don’t love it.
I’m not falling for that trick this time. Martel has succeeded in giving us a book that begs to be discussed, and that is certainly an accomplishment, but the discussions are more likely to leave friends and book clubs banging their heads in frustration than they are to lead to any kind of agreement or furthering of the art of fiction. So, from this Book Lady, Martel gets points for the noble goal of Beatrice and Virgil and for explaining that goal so skillfully, but he fails to achieve what he says (through Henry) he is going to, and he makes some disturbing analogies, comparing Jews to helpless animals, along the way. Because I am truly ambivalent about this one, I’m rating it right in the middle of the scale at 2.5 out of 5.
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LibraryThing member msbaba
Every time I interact with a work of art that deals with the Holocaust — be it a film, documentary, novel, painting, photomontage — I am left traumatized, exhausted, and drained of emotion. Sometimes it takes me days to recover. When faced with yet another major artistic work on the Holocaust,
Unfortunately, Yann Martel's new Holocaust novel, Beatrice and Virgil, is not worth it.
In many ways it is an arresting work that pulled me inside and kept me compulsively reading. It beguiled. It charmed. It triggered an abundance of tantalizing intellectual associations. But, it is a very odd book: an absurdist allegorical play with animal characters, contained within a thinly disguised memoir, enveloped within an odd fictional mystery, and the whole work is interlaced with fascinating, obtuse, intellectual essays. The writing is at times utterly mesmerizing and brilliant; at other times, it is downright boring. Again and again, the book begs the reader to discover where this is all leading. And then finally, in the last 30 pages or so, the reader is hit over the head with an emotional sledgehammer so effectively that the pain of this Holocaust encounter put me in a state of shock. Frankly, I felt manipulated and conned.
So, if this appeals to you, go ahead and read it. For those that loved The Life of Pi, this is nothing like that book. The novel is odd and wonderful, but it also misses the mark. I will not recommend it to my friends, and it is not a work that I would enjoy discussing with a book club.
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I always pause and ask myself if I want to go through that emotional rollercoaster again. Will this work of art help me better understand? Will it bring me closer to the truth? Is this new work of art worth the pain? Unfortunately, Yann Martel's new Holocaust novel, Beatrice and Virgil, is not worth it.
In many ways it is an arresting work that pulled me inside and kept me compulsively reading. It beguiled. It charmed. It triggered an abundance of tantalizing intellectual associations. But, it is a very odd book: an absurdist allegorical play with animal characters, contained within a thinly disguised memoir, enveloped within an odd fictional mystery, and the whole work is interlaced with fascinating, obtuse, intellectual essays. The writing is at times utterly mesmerizing and brilliant; at other times, it is downright boring. Again and again, the book begs the reader to discover where this is all leading. And then finally, in the last 30 pages or so, the reader is hit over the head with an emotional sledgehammer so effectively that the pain of this Holocaust encounter put me in a state of shock. Frankly, I felt manipulated and conned.
So, if this appeals to you, go ahead and read it. For those that loved The Life of Pi, this is nothing like that book. The novel is odd and wonderful, but it also misses the mark. I will not recommend it to my friends, and it is not a work that I would enjoy discussing with a book club.
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LibraryThing member Cecilturtle
What an incredibly powerful mix of genres and subjects! I loved the way Martel uses the novel, the play and the short story to talk about a painful and incomprehensible moment in history. The play, with its Brecht-like characters, perfectly conveys the alienation and dissociation of humanity with
This is not a light and fluffy read; the flimsy book is surprisingly dense; a cruel and emotional message which will stay with me for a long time.
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events, an absurd and baffling experience. The novel with the creepy taxidermist, so malevolent and yet luring neatly brings the various elements together carefully leading to the shocking conclusion. Flaubert's short story with its intriguing message and bloody carnage sets the tone as a warning and fearful message to be heeded.This is not a light and fluffy read; the flimsy book is surprisingly dense; a cruel and emotional message which will stay with me for a long time.
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LibraryThing member schlimmbesserung
Augh. Worse than bad! Condescending prose, flat characters, and the worst Shymalanesque twist ending I've ever seen, not to mention the sheer arrogance of such a petty, thinly-veiled autobiographical protagonist.
LibraryThing member khiemstra631
I was interested to read this because the pre-pub reviews varied so wildly from one extreme to another. After reading it, I tend to agree with those reviewers who panned it. I think it is meant to be a deeply symbolic rendering of the Holocaust, but it never really comes across that way. I found it
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a chore to stick with the book. The dialog between the animals, Beatrice and Virgil, varied from interesting to tedious. The taxidermist was a thoroughly unlikable character, and I thought the ending was very strange. Obviously, many reviewers have really liked the book while others have not. It must appeal to individual tastes so go ahead and read it if you so desire. You may be one of those who find it fascinating. Show Less
LibraryThing member AlisonY
In Beatrice and Virgil, Martel plays with novel form once again. The main character - Henry - is clearly a representation of Martel. He is a successful author who has spent 5 years working on a book which is an allegory of the Holocaust, only to have it crushed by his editors. Utterly defeated and
A lot more transpires beyond this, but.... no spoilers.
This novel got fairly annihilated by critics at the time. Most of this criticism seemed to be on two fronts - firstly, it was felt that Martel was being disrespectful of the Holocaust through his allegory, and secondly, it was felt that in writing a version of himself into the novel he was overly consumed by his own egotism.
I didn't feel either of these things when I read it. It shouldn't have worked but it did, despite being really quite odd. I don't think for a minute Martel was making light of the Holocaust - on the contrary, as his character was trying to do, I feel he was simply trying to use an alternative view to bring home the horrors of what happened. It's difficult reading in places, and I think it successfully enables you to properly place the horrors in your mind in relation to the actual Holocaust, despite it being represented in a different way. I also enjoyed Martel as a writer writing about him writing the book we were essentially reading. I think that's been done before, but for me it was interesting rather than a display of arrogance and self-importance.
4.5 stars - a short yet astonishing read.
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wishing to leave his craft for good, he and his wife move to a new country and city and are enjoying getting on with life when he receives a letter from a reader of his previous novel, and is pulled into the mysterious world of a taxidermist who is trying to perfect a play allegory of the Holocaust, in which a monkey called Virgil and a donkey called Beatrice represent the Jewish victims.A lot more transpires beyond this, but.... no spoilers.
This novel got fairly annihilated by critics at the time. Most of this criticism seemed to be on two fronts - firstly, it was felt that Martel was being disrespectful of the Holocaust through his allegory, and secondly, it was felt that in writing a version of himself into the novel he was overly consumed by his own egotism.
I didn't feel either of these things when I read it. It shouldn't have worked but it did, despite being really quite odd. I don't think for a minute Martel was making light of the Holocaust - on the contrary, as his character was trying to do, I feel he was simply trying to use an alternative view to bring home the horrors of what happened. It's difficult reading in places, and I think it successfully enables you to properly place the horrors in your mind in relation to the actual Holocaust, despite it being represented in a different way. I also enjoyed Martel as a writer writing about him writing the book we were essentially reading. I think that's been done before, but for me it was interesting rather than a display of arrogance and self-importance.
4.5 stars - a short yet astonishing read.
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LibraryThing member bachaney
Yann Martel's "Beatrice and Virgil" follows the life of Henry, a wildly succesful author who is now living a life of leisure in a "mystery" city with his wife. Since Henry's first novel was so succesful, he has lots of fans, and those fans often send him mail. One day he receives a package from
I really enjoyed "Life of Pi" and I've read it several times. When I heard Yann Martel was releasing a new novel, I was anxious to get my hands on it. "Beatrice and Virgil" was a major disappointment. Although the novel is written in third person, there are so many similarities to Martel's own life and success that it's hard to believe this is really a work of fiction. Then the novel just gets more and more bizzare, both in story and in language and construction. These things represented distractions and road blocks for me as a reader, so I was never really able to get into the story, which I found shallow and without emotional depth. "Life of Pi" was powerful and it spoke to me. "Beatrice and Virgil" practicaly drove me away on every page, and was not an enjoyable read.
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another Henry in his city, who is asking for his help. Henry decides to check the man out, and is suddently swept into his life, which includes his taxidermy shop and a complicated play written about two stuffed animals--Virgil, a monkey, and Beatrice, a donkey. The animals are persecuted and hated by the other animals in the story, which it is clear is meant to be an allegory for something else. I really enjoyed "Life of Pi" and I've read it several times. When I heard Yann Martel was releasing a new novel, I was anxious to get my hands on it. "Beatrice and Virgil" was a major disappointment. Although the novel is written in third person, there are so many similarities to Martel's own life and success that it's hard to believe this is really a work of fiction. Then the novel just gets more and more bizzare, both in story and in language and construction. These things represented distractions and road blocks for me as a reader, so I was never really able to get into the story, which I found shallow and without emotional depth. "Life of Pi" was powerful and it spoke to me. "Beatrice and Virgil" practicaly drove me away on every page, and was not an enjoyable read.
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LibraryThing member TheCrowdedLeaf
What is Beatrice And Virgil about?
The question of “about-ness” is asked more than once in Yann Martel’s latest novel. In reference to our main character Henry, “What is this book about?” is asked of his latest novel regarding the Holocaust. When Henry’s publishers and editors don’t
It’s hard to explain, or describe this work, and I think, perhaps, that’s the whole point. Martel’s last book was published many years ago, as is the case with his character Henry. His first book was about animals, likewise with Henry. So many themes resonate in Beatrice And Virgil that my head is spinning and I’m wondering, even as Henry is asked, what is this book about?
If I took the strange otherworldlyness of Milan Kundera’s Immortality and meshed it with the dark psychological twistedness of Ian McEwan’s Enduring Love, and then made the outcome pear-shaped, that is the general tone of Beatrice And Virgil. Surprisingly violent, a bit disturbing, ultimately strange and disquieting. I think I hate it… but I also think I like it… or at least respect it for whatever IT is.
This book was a surprise. From the first page I thought I would love it. Martel’s prose-style writing is magical and seductive. I thought, “I wish I could write like this.” And then the bizarre plot came into focus and I felt as though I was watching something disturbing that I couldn’t turn away from. Like I was in a dream, trying to scream, and no sound was coming out. Eyebrows furrowed, head scratched, questions raised, and little answers given. Even now, having just finished the book recently, I’ve no idea what I just read. Can’t recall the ending, because there isn’t one. And yet, I know it was good.
Some people are going to love this book, it will be memorialized as a truly unique piece of written work. Other people will hate it, will say Martel’s self-indulgence is over the top and it’s all too dramatic. Still others will, like me, have little idea what they’ve got themselves into. They will wonder, “I thought this was a book about a donkey and a monkey?” They might even put it down if they haven’t been educated with an appreciation of literature. But if they keep on reading, if they get to the end that isn’t an end, and set it down completed, they will have learned or dislearned something, and it will have changed them, as all books should.
5 stars and one big question mark.
(I received this book from the publisher for review)
The question of “about-ness” is asked more than once in Yann Martel’s latest novel. In reference to our main character Henry, “What is this book about?” is asked of his latest novel regarding the Holocaust. When Henry’s publishers and editors don’t
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“get” his work, he gives up writing for a time, moves to a big city with his wife, adopts a dog and cat, gets his wife pregnant, and meets another Henry; a taxidermist writing a play. In this play, the taxidermist has written about a donkey and a monkey, but they represent more than two animals. In Beatrice And Virgil, Martel has written about genocide, the Holocaust, cruelty, marriage, life, death, Flaubert, talking animals, and the interpretation of art. “It’s all quite fanciful…” as Henry says.It’s hard to explain, or describe this work, and I think, perhaps, that’s the whole point. Martel’s last book was published many years ago, as is the case with his character Henry. His first book was about animals, likewise with Henry. So many themes resonate in Beatrice And Virgil that my head is spinning and I’m wondering, even as Henry is asked, what is this book about?
If I took the strange otherworldlyness of Milan Kundera’s Immortality and meshed it with the dark psychological twistedness of Ian McEwan’s Enduring Love, and then made the outcome pear-shaped, that is the general tone of Beatrice And Virgil. Surprisingly violent, a bit disturbing, ultimately strange and disquieting. I think I hate it… but I also think I like it… or at least respect it for whatever IT is.
This book was a surprise. From the first page I thought I would love it. Martel’s prose-style writing is magical and seductive. I thought, “I wish I could write like this.” And then the bizarre plot came into focus and I felt as though I was watching something disturbing that I couldn’t turn away from. Like I was in a dream, trying to scream, and no sound was coming out. Eyebrows furrowed, head scratched, questions raised, and little answers given. Even now, having just finished the book recently, I’ve no idea what I just read. Can’t recall the ending, because there isn’t one. And yet, I know it was good.
Some people are going to love this book, it will be memorialized as a truly unique piece of written work. Other people will hate it, will say Martel’s self-indulgence is over the top and it’s all too dramatic. Still others will, like me, have little idea what they’ve got themselves into. They will wonder, “I thought this was a book about a donkey and a monkey?” They might even put it down if they haven’t been educated with an appreciation of literature. But if they keep on reading, if they get to the end that isn’t an end, and set it down completed, they will have learned or dislearned something, and it will have changed them, as all books should.
5 stars and one big question mark.
(I received this book from the publisher for review)
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LibraryThing member karieh
Yann Martel accomplishes something amazing in “Beatrice and Virgil”. He takes extremely unlikely characters and meshes them with one of humankind’s darkest hours…and delivers a story unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
I say experienced instead of read because like the main character,
“Creative block is no laughing matter, or only to those sodden spirits who’ve never even tried to make their personal mark. It’s not just a particular endeavor, a job, that is negated, it’s your whole being. It’s the dying of a small god within you, a part you thought might have immortality.”
And then Henry is given a play about characters named Beatrice and Virgil, and with that play, his life is forever changed.
Somehow, even from the beginning of the book, Martel’s words both interested and soothed me. His writing style is rather matter-of-fact, but in a way that allows additional layers of meaning to become part of the narrative…almost without the reader noticing. Well, without noticing until later. Until it’s too late…
“The reader’s disbelief begins to lift, like a stage curtain. Now the story can unfold more easily. There’s nothing like the unimaginable to make people believe.”
I can’t explain why I was so taken by the world inhabited by Beatrice and Virgil…and neither could Henry. While there was certainly something “off” about it, the sheer strangeness was part of its charm.
“The taxidermist shook his head without saying a word. Henry stood and waited, marveling at the animals. He was happy to be back. This was a room full of adjectives, like a Victorian novel.”
(And yes, I am trying to describe the book while giving very few details. I would hate to spoil it for someone.)
There are so many passages I marked within this book. Passages that contain thoughts or actions or events that are so raw that they feel like a punch to the gut. Passages of such carefully crafted words that the description of a single action conveys dozens of emotions. But I just can’t lift the curtain on this book. It caught me by surprise to such an extent that I hope it will catch others.
And the end…the end. I was never expecting that. I turned the final pages slowly, reading the words but not wanting to. I realize I’m probably coming across as overdramatic, but the end of this book was so different from any expectation that I had when I first picked it up, that’s the only way I can describe it.
I will never forget this book. This book that uses such an unlikely way to remind us of things that should never be forgotten. This book that uses such unexpected characters to remind us of the fragility of what makes us human, of the value of our lives. This fictional story that brings forth unarguable truths about life – both the beauty and the pain of it.
“A work of art works because it is true, not because it is real.”
I say experienced instead of read because like the main character,
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Henry, I was drawn into and lulled by this new world. Henry, a writer, has stopped writing. He’s living his life doing other things, and not the work for which most of the world defines him.“Creative block is no laughing matter, or only to those sodden spirits who’ve never even tried to make their personal mark. It’s not just a particular endeavor, a job, that is negated, it’s your whole being. It’s the dying of a small god within you, a part you thought might have immortality.”
And then Henry is given a play about characters named Beatrice and Virgil, and with that play, his life is forever changed.
Somehow, even from the beginning of the book, Martel’s words both interested and soothed me. His writing style is rather matter-of-fact, but in a way that allows additional layers of meaning to become part of the narrative…almost without the reader noticing. Well, without noticing until later. Until it’s too late…
“The reader’s disbelief begins to lift, like a stage curtain. Now the story can unfold more easily. There’s nothing like the unimaginable to make people believe.”
I can’t explain why I was so taken by the world inhabited by Beatrice and Virgil…and neither could Henry. While there was certainly something “off” about it, the sheer strangeness was part of its charm.
“The taxidermist shook his head without saying a word. Henry stood and waited, marveling at the animals. He was happy to be back. This was a room full of adjectives, like a Victorian novel.”
(And yes, I am trying to describe the book while giving very few details. I would hate to spoil it for someone.)
There are so many passages I marked within this book. Passages that contain thoughts or actions or events that are so raw that they feel like a punch to the gut. Passages of such carefully crafted words that the description of a single action conveys dozens of emotions. But I just can’t lift the curtain on this book. It caught me by surprise to such an extent that I hope it will catch others.
And the end…the end. I was never expecting that. I turned the final pages slowly, reading the words but not wanting to. I realize I’m probably coming across as overdramatic, but the end of this book was so different from any expectation that I had when I first picked it up, that’s the only way I can describe it.
I will never forget this book. This book that uses such an unlikely way to remind us of things that should never be forgotten. This book that uses such unexpected characters to remind us of the fragility of what makes us human, of the value of our lives. This fictional story that brings forth unarguable truths about life – both the beauty and the pain of it.
“A work of art works because it is true, not because it is real.”
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LibraryThing member Nextian
Yann Martel has writen another modern masterpiece with Beatrice and Virgil. He draws you in with delicious descriptions and keeps you reading by playing to your emotions and intellect. One one level, Beatrice and Virgil is a glimpse into an author's life story, dealing with disappointments and
The story feels like a stimulating but calm conversation. There isn't much action involved; but when it does come, it jars the reader and feels out of place, as I'm sure Martel intended it to. Every reader will take away something different from the book. And if you aren't a little changed by it, then you weren't paying attention. I highly recommend this to anyone; but be warned, this is not light summer reading.
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unexpected twists. On another, it's about looking at the Holocaust in new ways. And on another level, it explores the creative process and the idea of literature itself. The story feels like a stimulating but calm conversation. There isn't much action involved; but when it does come, it jars the reader and feels out of place, as I'm sure Martel intended it to. Every reader will take away something different from the book. And if you aren't a little changed by it, then you weren't paying attention. I highly recommend this to anyone; but be warned, this is not light summer reading.
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LibraryThing member JosephMcBee
I guess everyone is introduced to Yann Martel's writing through the beautiful and wonderful LIFE OF PI. I loved that novel and although it has been several years since I read it, the story stays with me.
It was with eagerness that I picked up BEATRICE AND VIRGIL. The prose is excellent, though it
Martel loves language, that is obvious in this novel as well as LIFE OF PI, and he makes his readers love language as well. He also loves art and obviously believes in its power.
This novel seems to be an exploration of the power of art set against the backdrop of processing the horror of the Holocaust. If that sounds strange, it is, but it seems to work in this book.
In this novel, we see the power of art to help us process things that are too terrible to deal with in all of their ugliness. They must be filtered, subdued, even tamed through art forms. Only then can they be handled and only then can their power over us be destroyed, or at least managed.
The story in this novel, and the story within the story in this novel was lovely until, quite suddenly, it wasn't. And when it got ugly, it got hideous and it did so at lightening speed and in such a way that it leaves you feeling attacked and ill at ease.
I find it unsettling that in a novel about trying to use art to heal, Martel uses it to harm.
In short, this story is going to stay with me for a while. Though I think I would like to set side and forget much of it. I won't be able to.
It was with eagerness that I picked up BEATRICE AND VIRGIL. The prose is excellent, though it
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seems to lack the depth and beauty of PI. The narrative, though seemingly pedestrian at first, carries you along.Martel loves language, that is obvious in this novel as well as LIFE OF PI, and he makes his readers love language as well. He also loves art and obviously believes in its power.
This novel seems to be an exploration of the power of art set against the backdrop of processing the horror of the Holocaust. If that sounds strange, it is, but it seems to work in this book.
In this novel, we see the power of art to help us process things that are too terrible to deal with in all of their ugliness. They must be filtered, subdued, even tamed through art forms. Only then can they be handled and only then can their power over us be destroyed, or at least managed.
The story in this novel, and the story within the story in this novel was lovely until, quite suddenly, it wasn't. And when it got ugly, it got hideous and it did so at lightening speed and in such a way that it leaves you feeling attacked and ill at ease.
I find it unsettling that in a novel about trying to use art to heal, Martel uses it to harm.
In short, this story is going to stay with me for a while. Though I think I would like to set side and forget much of it. I won't be able to.
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LibraryThing member Gwendydd
[warning: mild spoilers]
This novel follows Henry, an author suffering from writer's block: his last book, a call for artists to find new ways to discuss and portray the Holocaust, has been rejected by publishers. Henry is contacted by a taxidermist who requests help writing a play about a donkey
This book is grim and gruesome. Really gruesome. There are several scenes of animal torture. In fact, I had to skip several pages at a time: as an animal lover, I couldn't bear to read parts of it, and I know that parts of this book are going to haunt me for many years.
It is also an intriguing and charming book - Martel draws you in, and it's easy to read the book all in one big gulp. At first, you think it is going to be as charming and thought-provoking and quirky and uplifting as Life of Pi, but it keeps getting more and more grim and depressing and downright horrifying.
There are some interesting post-modern/meta-fiction touches. One suspects that the book is largely autobiographical: the main character's first novel is much like Life of Pi, and his work that the publisher's reject is actually Beatrice and Virgil, in a way. The book is about the writing of a play, so it includes most of the play and several discussions of scenes in the play. This does add a layer of interest to the book, but I think it muddles Martel's purpose.
As far as I'm concerned, the major failure of the book is that I'm not sure what Martel is actually trying to say about the Holocaust. Maybe he's not trying to say anything and that's the point: maybe he's telling us to stop looking for meaning in the Holocaust. Maybe he's saying that torture and pain and nightmares are all we will find in our quest to understand the Holocaust. But maybe not... and that's the major weakness of the book. As a reader, I would hope that after going through that much trauma I would be rewarded with something profound or enlightening, but at the end of the book I was sad, scared, and unfulfilled.
This novel follows Henry, an author suffering from writer's block: his last book, a call for artists to find new ways to discuss and portray the Holocaust, has been rejected by publishers. Henry is contacted by a taxidermist who requests help writing a play about a donkey
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named Beatrice and a monkey named Virgil. Henry is enchanted by the taxidermist's shop and his craft, and finds the man and his play enigmatic and intriguing. The book follows Henry's quest to understand the taxidermist and his work, and ultimately finds that the play is about the Holocaust. In fact, the play obeys Henry's call to find new and original ways to portray the Holocaust, but the play's and the taxidermist's message are not what Henry had in mind.This book is grim and gruesome. Really gruesome. There are several scenes of animal torture. In fact, I had to skip several pages at a time: as an animal lover, I couldn't bear to read parts of it, and I know that parts of this book are going to haunt me for many years.
It is also an intriguing and charming book - Martel draws you in, and it's easy to read the book all in one big gulp. At first, you think it is going to be as charming and thought-provoking and quirky and uplifting as Life of Pi, but it keeps getting more and more grim and depressing and downright horrifying.
There are some interesting post-modern/meta-fiction touches. One suspects that the book is largely autobiographical: the main character's first novel is much like Life of Pi, and his work that the publisher's reject is actually Beatrice and Virgil, in a way. The book is about the writing of a play, so it includes most of the play and several discussions of scenes in the play. This does add a layer of interest to the book, but I think it muddles Martel's purpose.
As far as I'm concerned, the major failure of the book is that I'm not sure what Martel is actually trying to say about the Holocaust. Maybe he's not trying to say anything and that's the point: maybe he's telling us to stop looking for meaning in the Holocaust. Maybe he's saying that torture and pain and nightmares are all we will find in our quest to understand the Holocaust. But maybe not... and that's the major weakness of the book. As a reader, I would hope that after going through that much trauma I would be rewarded with something profound or enlightening, but at the end of the book I was sad, scared, and unfulfilled.
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LibraryThing member DonnaMarieMerritt
I am not sure what I think of this book. It's by Yann Martel, the author of LIFE OF PI. At first, I was thrilled to find that it was different from PI. I expected another great literary achievement, but was pleased to know it would take a unique direction.
In the beginning it appeared to be about
BEATRICE AND VIRGIL explores what happens when a writer suddenly discovers that days and weeks and months of his work will never be seen by a reader. That, in my mind, brings up the ultimate reason for writing. Would we continue to write, year after year after year, if we knew it would never be published? (Be honest.) WHY do we write?
When Henry, the main character, gives up writing, it is hard for him not to "ache for the access he once had to creative joy." This, then, addresses the NEED artists have to create with words or clay or paint or melodies, whether viewed by an audience or not.
I am settling into the feel and rhythm when...the story changes. There is a twist. Now some of it becomes tedious. Some is confusing. Some is brilliant. Pacing is too slow in places, too fast in others. There is a disjointed feel that works in parts and disturbs the story line elsewhere.
In short, I simply do not know what to make of it. I recommend it because I think it is a book you need to read yourself so you can form your own opinion. You will certainly find a phrase, sentence, paragraph, scene—something, something that speaks to you and forces you to contemplate the true nature of humanity and our individual responses to that reality.
In the beginning it appeared to be about
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the life of a novelist. We get a glimpse into the writing world—reasons to write, fiction vs. nonfiction, and (my favorite) the idea that "We are story animals."BEATRICE AND VIRGIL explores what happens when a writer suddenly discovers that days and weeks and months of his work will never be seen by a reader. That, in my mind, brings up the ultimate reason for writing. Would we continue to write, year after year after year, if we knew it would never be published? (Be honest.) WHY do we write?
When Henry, the main character, gives up writing, it is hard for him not to "ache for the access he once had to creative joy." This, then, addresses the NEED artists have to create with words or clay or paint or melodies, whether viewed by an audience or not.
I am settling into the feel and rhythm when...the story changes. There is a twist. Now some of it becomes tedious. Some is confusing. Some is brilliant. Pacing is too slow in places, too fast in others. There is a disjointed feel that works in parts and disturbs the story line elsewhere.
In short, I simply do not know what to make of it. I recommend it because I think it is a book you need to read yourself so you can form your own opinion. You will certainly find a phrase, sentence, paragraph, scene—something, something that speaks to you and forces you to contemplate the true nature of humanity and our individual responses to that reality.
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LibraryThing member Lidbud
This is a strange little book, and I am still not quite sure what I thought of it. The Protagonist is a writer called Henry who wrote a successful novel, and has struggled with his second book. It was to be a combined essay/fiction about the Holocaust, in a flip book format. However, his publisher
All in all, an odd little book, and one that I have not as yet made my mind up about.
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hated the idea, sending Henry away to work on it. Henry and his wife move to another city, Henry takes a job in a chocolate shop, and has a child. Everything seems to be going fine for him, and then he receives a letter from a fan, enclosed with the letter is a short story in which killing of animals features strongly, and a scene from a play where two characters "Beatrice" and "Virgil" discuss what a pear is. Henry goes to meet with his fan, who is a taxidermist also named Henry, and the taxidermist shows him the 'real' Beatrice and Virgil, a donkey and a howler monkey that he has mounted in his shop. He also shows him the rest of his play "A Twentieth Century Shirt",in which the two feature. By now, I was reasonably sure that a point was being made, but I was not sure as to what it was, but then it all becomes very clear - the book is a parable about the Holocaust, and how it is always with us. Henry the novelist (or is it Martel himself?) states near the front of the book that the Holocaust has never been given a proper serious treatment in fiction. Well, this may or may not be so, but I am not sure that an obscure story about a donkey and a howler monkey can be a wholly serious treatment. All in all, an odd little book, and one that I have not as yet made my mind up about.
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LibraryThing member bungers
Finished this in two sittings. Amazing book. Horrific, but thought provoking, and can't-put-down-until-it's-finished. To compare it to Life of Pi is to miss the point. Just like Henry, you get sucked into the world of the taxidermist because you want to find out more about Beatrice & Virgil, and
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only at the end do you find out that Sarah's reaction (Henry's wife) was justified. Profound. Five stars! Show Less
LibraryThing member mybookcloset
I received an Advance Reader’s Edition of Yann Martel’s Beatrice and Virgil from LT.
I was looking forward to it because of how much I enjoyed Life of Pi. But now that I’ve read it I really can’t say I liked Beatrice and Virgil as a whole.
The main thing that stays with me, and that I can
And later when Henry walks into the taxidermy shop of the ‘fan’, Martel’s description, through Henry’s eyes, of the animals in the shop had them leaping off the shelves for me.
But I felt that after ten minutes with the disturbing taxidermist (the ‘fan’) Henry should have walked away and not looked back; there is never an explanation of why he did not. That was a problem for me.
The book began with Henry going to his publishers about his second book, a novel about the Holocaust. The meeting does not go well; the book will not be published.
As more scenes from the play are revealed, while facing increasingly horrible circumstances, the donkey and the monkey express heartbreaking helplessness, fear, and resignation; all with nobility. At some point it became obvious that the play is about the Holocaust. And that the taxidermist had a role in the Holocaust.
The ending is surprising… but not in a good way.
I was looking forward to it because of how much I enjoyed Life of Pi. But now that I’ve read it I really can’t say I liked Beatrice and Virgil as a whole.
The main thing that stays with me, and that I can
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say I did enjoy very much, is the very first time Beatrice and Virgil appear. The main character, an author named Henry, has received a scene from a play from someone he assumes to be a fan of his first book. In the scene Beatrice, a donkey, has no idea what a pear is, she has had other types of fruit but has no knowledge of a pear. Virgil, a howler monkey, describes it to her in such beautiful detail that I know she now knows a pear. Wonderful. And later when Henry walks into the taxidermy shop of the ‘fan’, Martel’s description, through Henry’s eyes, of the animals in the shop had them leaping off the shelves for me.
But I felt that after ten minutes with the disturbing taxidermist (the ‘fan’) Henry should have walked away and not looked back; there is never an explanation of why he did not. That was a problem for me.
The book began with Henry going to his publishers about his second book, a novel about the Holocaust. The meeting does not go well; the book will not be published.
As more scenes from the play are revealed, while facing increasingly horrible circumstances, the donkey and the monkey express heartbreaking helplessness, fear, and resignation; all with nobility. At some point it became obvious that the play is about the Holocaust. And that the taxidermist had a role in the Holocaust.
The ending is surprising… but not in a good way.
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LibraryThing member brianinbuffalo
How could it be? How could the man who penned one of my favorite novels in the past decade write a book that left me unfulfilled and even a bit confused? I looked forward to Yann Martel's new novel with great anticipation. What a let down. Few books I've encountered in recent years got off to as
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sluggish a start as this tome. Parts of the book seemed cobbled together. Other sections seemed forced. But I must admit the last third of this tale was brutally raw and caused me to cringe. I'm hoping this might one of those rare books that a year or two from now I'll say, "wait a minute! I get it!" But I think that's going to happen on the day donkeys begin talking. Still, I'm grateful to Martel for giving birth to the brilliant and poignant "Life of Pi." If he doesn't write another great novel for the rest of his career, he'll still rank high in my book. Show Less
LibraryThing member Peggy72
He has such a perceptive view of looking at things. This is a brilliant and harrowing novel. I was shell-shocked at the end just like with Life of Pi. It was worth the long wait Mr Martel!
LibraryThing member GCPLreader
Game number thirteen--
Afterwards, when it’s all over, you meet the novelist. What do you say to him?
Or--
The author tells you to choose between reading his egotistical, vapid book or sticking needles in your eye. Which do you choose?
2 stars--I did like the pear bit.
Afterwards, when it’s all over, you meet the novelist. What do you say to him?
Or--
The author tells you to choose between reading his egotistical, vapid book or sticking needles in your eye. Which do you choose?
2 stars--I did like the pear bit.
LibraryThing member jmchshannon
I've put off this review for several weeks because Beatrice and Virgil is so unlike anything I was expecting. After I finished listening to the story, I was stunned into silence, left waffling between wanting to yell WTF and yet proclaiming Martel's brilliance as loudly as possible. After two weeks
Beatrice and Virgil continues Mr. Martel's fascinating use of animals as allegory. Of even more interest is the suspicion that Mr. Martel explores his own thoughts on literature and writing through the main character, Henry. At times, Henry's thoughts and opinions sound extremely personal, and one cannot help but wonder if Henry is a touch autobiographical. For example, Mr. Martel specifically addresses the use of animals in dialogue between Henry and the taxidermist. While he states that animals have no set expectations for behavior which makes it easy to shape and mold them, I tend to disagree. Animals have their own built-in characteristics and set behaviors one expects, thereby minimizing the need for character development. We expect a tiger to act in a certain manner, and a donkey in another. The personification of these animals is going to come with the expectations that their human representatives will act in a similar vein. In addition, there is a fine line between animal behavior and human behavior. Humans can be very animalistic and vice versa. This makes it relatively easy to have one symbolize another. As we've come to expect in Mr. Martel's novels, his own use of a donkey and a howler monkey in the taxidermist's story leave the reader questioning the reasons and implications behind their usage.
Again, similar to Life of Pi, there are enough twists and turns to throw the most astute reader off the scent of the ending and the truth. While there are red flags that indicate the story is flowing in a direction not expected, it isn't until the reader reaches this astounding ending where the red flags become apparent. No matter what, the sleight of hand works. The ending is so shocking in its abruptness that the reader is left gasping in astonishment at the truth. In fact, I would recommend not trying to deduce the climax of the novel but rather let Mr. Martel's words carry you to the end. The ending is most valuable when it is a complete and utter surprise.
I remain astonished at the simple brilliancy of this novel. It confirms the idea that people are animals and can be driven to do extraordinary things when it is essential to do so. In fact, Beatrice and Virgil hint that humans are even more dangerous than animals because any cruelty is unexpected. Readers instinctually know that the animal kingdom is cruel in the fight to survive; we do not expect the same from humans. The psychology behind this discovery forces the reader to stop and consider the implications of what Mr. Martel is trying to state. It is a disturbing truth that should be acknowledged more than it ever is and is just one of the ideas that continues to haunt me.
As much as I enjoyed the novel itself, I am not certain that audio is the best format to "read" Beatrice and Virgil. The beginning is painfully slow and almost boring as Mr. Martel introduces the reader to Henry and sets the stage for future interactions with the mysterious taxidermist. More importantly, Beatrice and Virgil is a novel that deserves to be savored and re-read many times over. One cannot savor an audio novel, and wanting to find passages to listen to again and again has proven extremely difficult and frustrating. Yet, Mr. Bramhall's portrayal of Henry, the taxidermist, Beatrice and Virgil is astounding. The reader is never left questioning who is speaking at a given time, and he does an excellent job of bringing all the characters to life. It is well worth listening to the story at least once to be able to get a feel for the characters and their voices, but having a hard copy on hand to re-read passages is essential.
Overall, I loved Beatrice and Virgil. It is a challenging read, to say the least; it does not deliver its message outright but forces the reader to wrestle with the ideas presented and truly think about the lessons being learned. Mr. Martel forces the reader to re-think the Holocaust and even what it means to be human.
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of thinking about it, therein lies the appeal of Beatrice and Virgil. It forces the reader to stop and think, refusing to let the reader slide without forming some opinion. Furthermore, regardless of the opinion, the novel and its messages linger, haunting the reader for weeks after finishing. It is a tale of responsibility unlike any other, one that continues to fill my thoughts as I struggle to discern my own meaning from it.Beatrice and Virgil continues Mr. Martel's fascinating use of animals as allegory. Of even more interest is the suspicion that Mr. Martel explores his own thoughts on literature and writing through the main character, Henry. At times, Henry's thoughts and opinions sound extremely personal, and one cannot help but wonder if Henry is a touch autobiographical. For example, Mr. Martel specifically addresses the use of animals in dialogue between Henry and the taxidermist. While he states that animals have no set expectations for behavior which makes it easy to shape and mold them, I tend to disagree. Animals have their own built-in characteristics and set behaviors one expects, thereby minimizing the need for character development. We expect a tiger to act in a certain manner, and a donkey in another. The personification of these animals is going to come with the expectations that their human representatives will act in a similar vein. In addition, there is a fine line between animal behavior and human behavior. Humans can be very animalistic and vice versa. This makes it relatively easy to have one symbolize another. As we've come to expect in Mr. Martel's novels, his own use of a donkey and a howler monkey in the taxidermist's story leave the reader questioning the reasons and implications behind their usage.
Again, similar to Life of Pi, there are enough twists and turns to throw the most astute reader off the scent of the ending and the truth. While there are red flags that indicate the story is flowing in a direction not expected, it isn't until the reader reaches this astounding ending where the red flags become apparent. No matter what, the sleight of hand works. The ending is so shocking in its abruptness that the reader is left gasping in astonishment at the truth. In fact, I would recommend not trying to deduce the climax of the novel but rather let Mr. Martel's words carry you to the end. The ending is most valuable when it is a complete and utter surprise.
I remain astonished at the simple brilliancy of this novel. It confirms the idea that people are animals and can be driven to do extraordinary things when it is essential to do so. In fact, Beatrice and Virgil hint that humans are even more dangerous than animals because any cruelty is unexpected. Readers instinctually know that the animal kingdom is cruel in the fight to survive; we do not expect the same from humans. The psychology behind this discovery forces the reader to stop and consider the implications of what Mr. Martel is trying to state. It is a disturbing truth that should be acknowledged more than it ever is and is just one of the ideas that continues to haunt me.
As much as I enjoyed the novel itself, I am not certain that audio is the best format to "read" Beatrice and Virgil. The beginning is painfully slow and almost boring as Mr. Martel introduces the reader to Henry and sets the stage for future interactions with the mysterious taxidermist. More importantly, Beatrice and Virgil is a novel that deserves to be savored and re-read many times over. One cannot savor an audio novel, and wanting to find passages to listen to again and again has proven extremely difficult and frustrating. Yet, Mr. Bramhall's portrayal of Henry, the taxidermist, Beatrice and Virgil is astounding. The reader is never left questioning who is speaking at a given time, and he does an excellent job of bringing all the characters to life. It is well worth listening to the story at least once to be able to get a feel for the characters and their voices, but having a hard copy on hand to re-read passages is essential.
Overall, I loved Beatrice and Virgil. It is a challenging read, to say the least; it does not deliver its message outright but forces the reader to wrestle with the ideas presented and truly think about the lessons being learned. Mr. Martel forces the reader to re-think the Holocaust and even what it means to be human.
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LibraryThing member nvgomez
Yann Martel is a master storyteller!!!
The author/protagonist, looking for a different way to tell the story of the Holocaust is brought face to face with an old Nazi. The old Nazi wants to also tell his story. In doing so, the Nazi brings fear, pain, wounding, anger and desperation to the author's
Yann Martel's writing style keep you interested to the last page!!! I highly recommend this book.
The author/protagonist, looking for a different way to tell the story of the Holocaust is brought face to face with an old Nazi. The old Nazi wants to also tell his story. In doing so, the Nazi brings fear, pain, wounding, anger and desperation to the author's
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life as well as a personal tie-in to the Holocaust.Yann Martel's writing style keep you interested to the last page!!! I highly recommend this book.
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LibraryThing member DubaiReader
Not my cup of tea.
Having read Life of Pi and given it 3 stars, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to read another book by this author. Having read this, I feel I should have followed my instincts in the first place. I felt this was trying to be clever, metaphorical, I just found it a bit thin and
The first part, a vaguely disguised autobiography about a man who has written a hugely successful book and is having trouble with the follow-up, rang true and was an enjoyable read. The follow-up that he presents to his agent is a novel about the Holocaust with an essay on the same subject, in the form of a 'flip-book' - two front covers but no back. And then there follows an attempt at just this, not a flip-book, but an unusual take on the Holocaust, using animals as characters - and embedded within, is a play.
The play reminded me of Waiting for Godot, in that very little happens - they discuss a pear for a whole scene, for instance.
The ending was abrupt and very frustrating and this really only gets 2 stars because I finished it and one star is for books I abandon.
A disappointing read for me but may appeal to lovers of more philosophical literature, such as that by the author Paulo Coelho.
Having read Life of Pi and given it 3 stars, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to read another book by this author. Having read this, I feel I should have followed my instincts in the first place. I felt this was trying to be clever, metaphorical, I just found it a bit thin and
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basically boring.The first part, a vaguely disguised autobiography about a man who has written a hugely successful book and is having trouble with the follow-up, rang true and was an enjoyable read. The follow-up that he presents to his agent is a novel about the Holocaust with an essay on the same subject, in the form of a 'flip-book' - two front covers but no back. And then there follows an attempt at just this, not a flip-book, but an unusual take on the Holocaust, using animals as characters - and embedded within, is a play.
The play reminded me of Waiting for Godot, in that very little happens - they discuss a pear for a whole scene, for instance.
The ending was abrupt and very frustrating and this really only gets 2 stars because I finished it and one star is for books I abandon.
A disappointing read for me but may appeal to lovers of more philosophical literature, such as that by the author Paulo Coelho.
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LibraryThing member porch_reader
I read [Life of Pi] several years ago and liked it a lot. So, when I heard about the release of [Beatrice and Virgil], my ears immediately perked up. As I learned a little more about the story itself, I wasn't so sure I'd like it, but I couldn't resist picking it up off the new books shelf at my
[Beatrice and Virgil] tells the story of Henry, an author with two successful novels. But when he write a flip book that combines a novel and an essay about the Holocaust, he receives very negative feedback from his editors. He is so discouraged that he quits writing and moves with his wife to an unidentified large city. He is contacted by a taxidermist who has written a play about a donkey named Beatrice and a howler monkey named Virgil and needs Henry's help. As the two men work together, we learn a lot about the power of fiction to illuminate truths that cannot be conveyed any other way.
This book was one of the best that I've read this year. First, Martel can write. Consider this quote from Henry about the need for stories:
"With a historical event, we not only have to bear witness, that is, tell what happened and address the needs of ghosts. We also have to interpret and conclude, so that the needs of people today, the children of ghosts, can be addressed" (p. 15).
Or this description of a Sunday at the beginning of spring:
"It was a Sunday that was gloriously living up to its pagan name, a bold rebel burst of warm weather that announced the impending vanquishing of winter" (p. 119).
In addition, this book conveys some incredibly powerful ideas in a small package (less than 200 small pages). We come to know Henry intimately. We struggle with indescribable horrors and how they can be conveyed and remembered and dealt with. There were so many important ideas conveyed by this book that as I closed the back cover, I felt as though I could open the front cover and begin reading again.
This book is also incredibly creative. Pieces of the play Beatrice and Virgil are embedded within the story about its creation. This combination works well. Through drama and prose and prose about drama, Martel echoes important themes again and again.
And then there was the plot twist. This is not a book that I expected to have a plot twist. It is a book that is more about ideas than plot. But the ending will stick with me for a long time. It was surprising, but oddly fitting for this complex book.
I was hesitant to read this book, and I'm a little hesitant to recommend it. It isn't a book that everyone will like. But for me, it was incredibly powerful - one of my best of the year.
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library last week. [Beatrice and Virgil] tells the story of Henry, an author with two successful novels. But when he write a flip book that combines a novel and an essay about the Holocaust, he receives very negative feedback from his editors. He is so discouraged that he quits writing and moves with his wife to an unidentified large city. He is contacted by a taxidermist who has written a play about a donkey named Beatrice and a howler monkey named Virgil and needs Henry's help. As the two men work together, we learn a lot about the power of fiction to illuminate truths that cannot be conveyed any other way.
This book was one of the best that I've read this year. First, Martel can write. Consider this quote from Henry about the need for stories:
"With a historical event, we not only have to bear witness, that is, tell what happened and address the needs of ghosts. We also have to interpret and conclude, so that the needs of people today, the children of ghosts, can be addressed" (p. 15).
Or this description of a Sunday at the beginning of spring:
"It was a Sunday that was gloriously living up to its pagan name, a bold rebel burst of warm weather that announced the impending vanquishing of winter" (p. 119).
In addition, this book conveys some incredibly powerful ideas in a small package (less than 200 small pages). We come to know Henry intimately. We struggle with indescribable horrors and how they can be conveyed and remembered and dealt with. There were so many important ideas conveyed by this book that as I closed the back cover, I felt as though I could open the front cover and begin reading again.
This book is also incredibly creative. Pieces of the play Beatrice and Virgil are embedded within the story about its creation. This combination works well. Through drama and prose and prose about drama, Martel echoes important themes again and again.
And then there was the plot twist. This is not a book that I expected to have a plot twist. It is a book that is more about ideas than plot. But the ending will stick with me for a long time. It was surprising, but oddly fitting for this complex book.
I was hesitant to read this book, and I'm a little hesitant to recommend it. It isn't a book that everyone will like. But for me, it was incredibly powerful - one of my best of the year.
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Awards
Dublin Literary Award (Longlist — 2012)
Quill and Quire Book of the Year (Fiction and Poetry — 2010)
Language
Original language
English
Original publication date
2010-04-13
Physical description
240 p.; 20.3 cm
ISBN
9780812981544
Local notes
Omslag: gray318
Omslag: Greg Mollica
Omslaget viser en abekat og et æsel
Indskannet omslag - N650U - 150 dpi
Omslag: Greg Mollica
Omslaget viser en abekat og et æsel
Indskannet omslag - N650U - 150 dpi
Similar in this library
Pages
240
DDC/MDS
| 813.54 |