Elissa
On the one hand, The Midnight Library has the rare distinction of being a quick, compelling read that stirred me to serious introspection; I have always identified with Plath's fig-tree metaphor in The Bell Jar, and Haig's alternate take on the choices that make up our lives is an existentialist rebuke that resonated strongly for me personally. This is a page-turner: the chapters are short, with many bordering on abrupt (a stylistic choice that works well for the subject matter), and the prose is straightforward but contains more than a few pithy jewels. I loved the concept of a library wherein a visitor could flip through alternate lives as easily as through pages
On the other, I found this book to be predictable, heavy-handed, and overly didactic. (The further the protagonist, Nora, progressed toward self-actualization, the more The Midnight Library read to me like a self-help book, especially insofar as I felt free to assimilate what I wanted and scratch the rest.) With as much telling as the book does, it seems to show something different with surprising frequency; for instance, the book spends a couple of pages explaining in no uncertain terms that Nora should prioritize her own wishes rather than those of others, but, from start to finish, illustrates that her happiness hinges on her impact on others' lives. I also think it's dangerous and offensive to imply (as this book does) that depression is, or is the result of, a choice; so too is Nora's unnecessarily stigmatizing aversion to any of the many lives in which she discovers she is on antidepressants, as though this were a personal failing.
Ultimately, I found this novel a largely enjoyable and thought-provoking use of an evening, but it's no surprise that it's polarizing despite its acclaim and continued popularity.
On the one hand, The Midnight Library has the rare distinction of being a quick, compelling read that stirred me to serious introspection; I have always identified with Plath's fig-tree metaphor in The Bell Jar, and Haig's alternate take on the choices that make up our lives is an existentialist rebuke that resonated strongly for me personally. This is a page-turner: the chapters are short, with many bordering on abrupt (a stylistic choice that works well for the subject matter), and the prose is straightforward but contains more than a few pithy jewels. I loved the concept of a library wherein a visitor could flip through alternate lives as easily as through pages
On the other, I found this book to be predictable, heavy-handed, and overly didactic. (The further the protagonist, Nora, progressed toward self-actualization, the more The Midnight Library read to me like a self-help book, especially insofar as I felt free to assimilate what I wanted and scratch the rest.) With as much telling as the book does, it seems to show something different with surprising frequency; for instance, the book spends a couple of pages explaining in no uncertain terms that Nora should prioritize her own wishes rather than those of others, but, from start to finish, illustrates that her happiness hinges on her impact on others' lives. I also think it's dangerous and offensive to imply (as this book does) that depression is, or is the result of, a choice; so too is Nora's unnecessarily stigmatizing aversion to any of the many lives in which she discovers she is on antidepressants, as though this were a personal failing.
Ultimately, I found this novel a largely enjoyable and thought-provoking use of an evening, but it's no surprise that it's polarizing despite its acclaim and continued popularity.