The Monk, by Matthew Lewis: ***

I wish this novel maintained more consistency, because there are some truly fantastic moments and sections. There are two main plots in the story, and one of them is really exciting and somewhat scary. I thought this would turn out to be a gem. But as the novel progressed, and the other plot moved more to the front, the tenor changed into more of a farce, along the lines of a severely twisted Jane Austen novel or something. This material wasn't bad at all, and I continued to enjoy the book, but I was disappointed that it didn't maintain the earlier quality. Also, the feeling that I'm left with at the end of the book is more of the farcical romance instead of the dread created earlier in the novel. If somehow these sections could have been shifted (plot wise they could not, however) the sensation I would have been left with at the end of the novel would have been much more rewarding. Nonetheless, I found myself laughing at the machinations of the main character in the second plot, and enjoyed the entire experience. I would definitely recommend this to open-minded Jane Austen fan, fans of any gothic fiction or horror, and even fans of general satire, because there is definitely a sense of sense of satire in relation to the church (which of course I enjoyed).

pg. 172-3: "An author, whether good or bad, or between both, is an animal whom every body is privileged to attack: for though all are not able to write books, all conceive themselves able to judge them. A bad composition carries with it its own punishment - contempt and ridicule. A good one excites envy, and entails upon its author a thousand mortifications: he finds himself assailed by partial and ill-humoured criticism: one man finds fault with the plan, another with the style, a third with the precept which it strives to inculcate; and they who cannot succeed in finding fault with the book, employ themselves in stigmatizing its author. They maliciously rake out from obscurity every little circumstance which may throw ridicule upon his private character or conduct, and aim at wounding the man since they cannot hut the write. In short, to enter the lists of literature is willfully to expose yourself to the arrows of neglect, ridicule, envy, and disappointment. Whether you write well or ill, be assured that you will not escape from blame."
(fall 2002)

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