I read, over the past few days, two classic American novels: My Antonia by Willa Cather and by Melville. I really disliked the Cather novel. It had been recommended to me by a cousin when I was in my teens. She had moved to America a few years earlier (is now a full-fledged American) and I think had read it at school. I only just got around to it, and it was a trial. For one, I think pioneer America says absolutely nothing to me, I find it tedious, uninteresting, uninspiring. Nor can I forget what it is founded on, this open empty land that the pioneers conquer, even though I am usually very good at ignoring politics and standpoints that I find reprehensible (otherwise only the dullest and most earnest books would be possible to read, like The Calculating Stars). I understand Cather is now considered something of a feminist writer, but I didn’t find Antonia a particularly inspiring character, she seemed to me a noble savage as much as anything; virtually every other character, with the exception of the narrator, was more interesting and seemed to be found wanting by the author. The best bit about the book was when her father dies, and I appreciated the decision for that to stretch into life’s past, but with that as the one interesting bit in the book, it felt a waste that it did so. I think I also just don’t like Cather or her voice, she seems to have been an unpleasant woman.
The Melville book (or novella) was quite different. It was highly predictable what was going on, but he is a superb writer, and his play with perspectives was fascinating. One of these days I will embark upon Moby Dick, but only when I can read the actual book instead of the Kindle version. While convenient, the experience of reading on the Kindle is not conducive to reading in depth.