Jackson

Mary Shelley is an impeccable writer. A tormented man blessed with life and a tormented monster cursed with life, who is more human?

A tale of circumstance and how it relates to one’s own plans, God’s own purpose, and love’s very own requite.

Thoroughly entertaining. I like Hemingway’s way of writing.

This book is the bomb. And not just any bomb, Huxley wants to blow your mind. I just kept turning the pages, becuase I craved the introspective thoughts and reflections on human dignity that this book tries to spring on the reader. You find yourself cheering for people who are looking for more, only to be disapointed by their fatal flaws. The book's setting that is so inherently inhumane that it paints a beauty on the tiniest slivers of humanity.

Seriously, how was this book written in the 1930's and still relevant... human nature, I guess. The ways we fall are different but the reasons stay the same.

the artistic explanations of the writer when put in terms of rhythm, prose, and their prospective meaning bear the lofty weight that the style of men demands and defers when he speaks.

In other words, how in the world did a book about prose make me interested in revision!