TriciaG
23 books read for LibriVox
- Wilde lets his idle aristocrats trade epigrams for two acts, and Lord Illingworth is horribly quotable, then the play turns serious when Mrs Arbuthnot's old secret surfaces. If you want pure froth you might resist the melodrama, but the wit alone earns the evening.
- You get Monty Brewster, amiable but increasingly frantic as he tries to spend a fortune within a year without ending up with anything to show for it. The comedy is broad and very turn-of-the-century, but the escalating absurdity still makes this an easy, pleasantly silly read.
- You get a fiercely strange tragedy about pride, hunger, and the impossibility of speaking to people you despise. Coriolanus is magnificent and maddening, while Volumnia’s hard, hungry love gives the play its deepest ache; the Roman politics can feel blunt, but the language cuts.
- Democracy and Education non-fictionDewey's prose is dry, no way around it, but his central idea (that education is growth itself, not preparation for some later life) will quietly rearrange how you think about school, work, even conversation. Read it slowly, arguing with him in the margins; that's the point.
- You’ll like it for its grand, ceremonial feel and the sharp human cost beneath the pageantry, especially in Katherine of Aragon’s dignity and Wolsey’s sudden collapse. It’s episodic and more interested in public power than intimate character, so expect a stately history play rather than another Hamlet.
- Fair warning, the prose creaks a bit and Scott loves a long description, but once the tournament at Ashby kicks off it moves, and Rebecca quietly steals the whole book from the hero. If knights and a sly Robin Hood cameo sound fun, settle in.
- You get compact Breton romances where desire, loyalty, and magic keep upsetting respectable social rules. In Bisclavret, a werewolf’s wounded trust matters more than the marvel itself; Lanval gives you a lonely outsider and a fairy lover, all told with brisk, haunting economy.
- Poe's poems are best read aloud at night, when the hypnotic drumbeat of The Raven and the sad chime of Annabel Lee can really work on you. It's a small body of work, moody and musical, and if gothic melancholy isn't your thing, skip it.
- Richard talks straight to you from the first speech, so you end up half rooting for a murderer and enjoying it, especially when he woos Anne over her father-in-law's coffin. If you like villains who make you complicit, this moves fast and never apologizes.
- Ten Days That Shook the World non-fictionReed was actually there, dashing between Smolny and the Winter Palace in November 1917, and it reads like dispatches scribbled on the run, crowds, speeches, rumors flying. Fair warning, he's openly rooting for the Bolsheviks and the flood of committee names takes patience, but the immediacy is real.
- Three con artists set up shop in a plague-emptied London house and fleece everyone who knocks, and watching Face and Subtle improvise faster and faster as the marks pile up is genuinely funny. The Jacobean language takes some chewing, but the scheming underneath is pure farce.
- You spend time with the tender, maddening Ranevskaya and the newly wealthy Lopakhin, as everyone talks around the fate of the estate and avoids the decisions that might save it. It’s quietly funny and deeply sad, with the strange feeling of hearing laughter in a house already beginning to empty.
- The Kingdom of God Is Within You non-fictionFair warning, this is Tolstoy the furious pamphleteer, not the novelist, and he repeats himself like a man grabbing your lapels. But his dismantling of churches that bless armies, and of ordinary people quietly enabling violence, still stings, and it reshaped Gandhi's whole thinking.
- You follow Emily St Aubert from sunlit France into the oppressive corridors of Udolpho, where music, shadows, and a black veil keep your nerves pleasantly busy. It’s long, ornate, and sometimes dramatically overwrought, but the atmosphere is so carefully sustained that the castle starts haunting you too.
- You get a strange, funny, sometimes brutal journey home, but the real pleasure is watching Penelope and Telemachus hold their lives together while Odysseus keeps meeting monsters, gods, and his own cleverness. The episodic structure takes patience, yet its images and voices stay wonderfully vivid.
- Every character is named for exactly what they are (Mr. Worldly Wiseman, Giant Despair), which sounds heavy-handed until you're stuck in the Slough of Despond yourself and it lands.
- You watch Konstantin’s wounded ambition, Nina’s hunger for the stage, and Arkadina’s brittle charm collide around a disastrous play and a country estate. It’s funny in the way awkward people can be funny, then quietly painful, especially if you like drama that lets everyone misunderstand one another in painfully recognizable ways.
- If you like the Arabian Nights but wish someone had turned the ornament up to eleven and winked while doing it, you'll enjoy following Shibli Bagarag, a barber on a mock-epic quest to shave one enchanted head. The dense, curlicued prose is the whole point, so skip it if you want plain storytelling.
- The fun is watching Kate and Petruchio trade insults at full speed, two clever people who've finally met their match. Fair warning, the "taming" itself sits uneasily now, and Kate's last speech will either charm you or make you argue with the page.
- You’ll appreciate its strange, abrasive energy: Timon’s lavish generosity curdles into furious contempt, while Apemantus needles him with the honesty nobody else will risk. It’s a jagged, unfinished-feeling play, but if you like Shakespeare when he’s bitter, funny, and morally unruly, it stays with you.
- You get the sea as working men experience it, not as a backdrop: cold watches, rope-burned hands, bad food, and the long haul around Cape Horn. Dana’s sympathy for the sailors gives the book its moral force, though the detailed shipboard routine can feel slow if you need constant action.
- You’re glad you read it for the strange intimacy of spending a day inside Leopold Bloom’s mind, where errands, advertisements, hunger, and memory keep turning unexpectedly funny and tender. It’s demanding and occasionally maddening, but the jokes, wordplay, and Molly Bloom’s closing monologue reward patience.