"Colm T�ib�n's beautiful, subtle illumination of Henry James's inner life" ( The New York Times ) captures the loneliness and hope of a master of psychological subtlety whose forays into intimacy inevitably fail those he tried to love. Beautiful and profoundly moving, The Master tells the story of Henry James, a man born into one of America's first intellectual families who leaves his country in the late nineteenth century to live in Paris, Rome, Venice, and London among privileged artists and writers. With stunningly ...
Read More
"Colm T�ib�n's beautiful, subtle illumination of Henry James's inner life" ( The New York Times ) captures the loneliness and hope of a master of psychological subtlety whose forays into intimacy inevitably fail those he tried to love. Beautiful and profoundly moving, The Master tells the story of Henry James, a man born into one of America's first intellectual families who leaves his country in the late nineteenth century to live in Paris, Rome, Venice, and London among privileged artists and writers. With stunningly resonant prose, "The Master is unquestionably the work of a first-rate novelist: artful, moving, and very beautiful" ( The New York Times Book Review ). The emotional intensity of this portrait is riveting.
Read Less
First off, know that I did not finish the book. One hundred pages in I decided I'd rather read something that seemed to be heading somewhere. I was hoping for something with more depth, more character, more intrigue--more James, actually. I didn't necessarily care that it was slow moving; but I did care that there didn't seem to be any progress toward something. All it seemed to be was snippets of James' life with no real development, no plot, no question. Perhaps it was going to be like some sort of pointillist painting that only made complete sense once all was said and done and you stepped back, but I didn't make it to the end. And if you can't get the reader to the end, what's the point?
AmateurHistorian
Apr 1, 2007
Henry James' stunted emotional life
An intriguing novel about Henry James, his preoccupations, his work, and ultimately, his inability to involve himself emotionally in others and the aspects of life that could have provided full satisfaction to himself. Toibin is masterful in using a tone that reflects James' own, and in depicting a man who wrote about life rather than living it. The book is not for fans of fast cinematic cuts or fast-moving narratives. This is a book for the patient reader--for those who have tried enough Henry James to know that there is depth there, even if they find it maddeningly obscured by the long sentences and hyper-refined elocutions. For one who has basically given up on James work, I found this novel quite valuable to read.
