Customer Reviews

A Voice from the Attic: Essays on the Art of Reading

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This book is an extrememly thoughtful commentary on the nature of reading and what it means to be a bibliophile, especially in today's age. It can come across as somewhat stuffy and self-important, but Robertson Davies' thoughts and opinions are varied and resonating enough to overcome that. He doesn't capitulate to the lowest common denominator, or present reading as a pursuit only worthwhile if one reads a predetermined list of "great books". his chapter on humour and comedic writing throughout the ages is priceless. It isn't a book for everyone, but it's a welcome relief from the endless parade of critics who typecast the typical reader as "nobody' if they haven't read a set list of prerequisite books.

Although billed as a collection, this series of essays holds its own as an extended monologue. Davies, as erudite a reader and writer as you will ever discover, is not for the faint of head. In his argument here, he attempts to describe why reading--intense, concentrated reading--can be valued as art. The likely argument against this idea is that reading is not an act of creation, which art aspires to. He quickly deflates that argument with a description of reading that could apply just as well to performance art.

Although some of the writers he mentions here will likely be unknown to modern readers (they were certainly unusual to me), the points he makes are universal. We are in need of this even more today than when it was written.

This book is great. Davies has provided a witty piece of literary criticism that informs the reader about avenues of literary bliss they would likely never have heard of anywhere else. I'm not a Canadian, but I didn't feel he dwelt excessively on topics of specific interest to Canadians. What he did do was point me in the direction of literary genres that are treasure troves of novel reading material, in which one can find the basic storylines and devices that still form the "meat and potatoes" of modern fiction, visible in everything from Tommy Boy to Phillip K. Dick. Personally, the most valuable thing I've taken from "Voice" is an interest in reading plays, and, in particular, pantomimes and drawing room plays. By pointing out that our current culture is ignoring volumes of great literature just because it isn't "current", Davies isn't criticizing todays authors or being stuffy in the least. He's merely pointing the way to an immensely valuable reservoir of work that is ours to appreciate or abandon.

Oh, yes. This is a wonderful look at a side of the man only matched by Samuel Marchbanks. Not only does he comment on books and authors with cinicism and arrogance but manages to do so without losing the reader (at least it was so in my case). This is not a book for the sentimental book lover but a sturdy piece for the hardy. And all things said, if you get through it without bursting you'll go there again.

Conservative, stuffy voice, uncomfortable with new and innovative literature, about 200 years behind the times... And also the whole canadian bit alienates readers because its only interesting to canadians of course and nobody really cares outside of there. And he talks as if he's on the level of some of the greates writers but really he is pretty mediocre compared to the mad writing of the greats of now (DFW, Pynchon, Powers etc.).

SIMPLY PUT A WASTE OF OUR ENERG