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paul_cornelius's review against another edition
4.0
The concluding book in the adventures of Horace Holly and Leo Vancey first related in She, Ayesha was written almost two decades after that initial novel. And it shows. The story itself actually is more complex and even more epic in scope than She. Yet there are differences in the telling of the tale. In Ayesha, Haggard writes more briskly. It has the feel of a work that belongs to the new century, the twentieth. Gone, almost, are the dense layers of appositives that carried through on every page of She. But only almost. Because they do reappear with the long stretches of dialog involving Ayesha. For once more, Haggard wants his style to mimic the sense of past eras, the long passage of time. And once more, as in She, his syntax and rhythms are of a bygone era. Too, he again sprinkles in archaic word choices to plunge the reader into a sense of centuries past.
I do not hold much with those critics who can only see these works of Haggard as texts to explore colonial mindsets, tropes, and imagery. In both She and Ayesha, Haggard has gone beyond the borders of colonialism. He does this literally, exploring lost and unknown landscapes that are metaphorically probing heretofore untapped regions of the mind and belief. Ayesha is more than mere adventure, romance, or fantasy. It examines the boundaries between fantasy and reality and where the lives of readers themselves takes place. In his own way, often, Haggard can be quite profound.
I do not hold much with those critics who can only see these works of Haggard as texts to explore colonial mindsets, tropes, and imagery. In both She and Ayesha, Haggard has gone beyond the borders of colonialism. He does this literally, exploring lost and unknown landscapes that are metaphorically probing heretofore untapped regions of the mind and belief. Ayesha is more than mere adventure, romance, or fantasy. It examines the boundaries between fantasy and reality and where the lives of readers themselves takes place. In his own way, often, Haggard can be quite profound.
ophidia's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
el_entrenador_loco's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
mysterious
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
claudia_marcela's review against another edition
2.0
Leo y Holly emprenden un largo viaje en su deseo de reencontrarse con el amor inmortal de Leo, la enigmática Ayesha.
Compré este libro usado en una feria del libro hace ya bastantes años, en un tiempo en que GR aún no existía y no tenía forma de saber que era el segundo libro de una tetralogía. Pero la sinopsis fue lo suficiente atrayente para hacerme continuar aún tras darme cuenta que seguía la historia de unos personajes que ya debería conocer. La historia tiene los suficientes vistazos al pasado para que no hiciera falta haber leído el primer libro.
Más de la mitad de la historia abarca el largo viaje de años que hacen estos dos hombres para buscar el paradero de Ayesha, que le fue revelado a Leo en un sueño. Se enfrentan a toda clase de vicisitudes, desde monasterios, tribus salvajes y hasta avalanchas y ríos salvajes; es en esta parte del libro que reside el verdadero interés: la búsqueda insaciable de algo que no saben si alcanzarán alguna vez. Pero cuando al fin alcanzan su destino la historia empieza a perder fuerza.
Recientemente leí otro libro de amores inmortales y reencarnaciones y Ayesha me ha dejado con la impresión de aquél. ¿Cuál es exactamente la atracción de un amor instántaneo solo porque estas personas se hayan conocido en vidas pasadas? La obsesión de Leo por encontrar a su amor inmortal resulta un tanto descabellada y casi enfermiza, considerando cómo terminó su historia en su primer encuentro y luego mucho peor en el segundo (los sucesos del primer libro). Incluso cuando se reunen al fin no hay química alguna entre Leo y Ayesha. Se declaran su amor inmortal pero está lejos de parecer cándido y hermoso, más bien parecen dos insectos atraídos hacia la flama que los destruirá.
El climax fue muy apresurado y el final insatisfactorio. Podría atribuirselo a que hay más libros después, pero por la sinopsis veo que tratan con otros personajes distintos y Ayesha es la única constante.
En esta relectura se reafirmó mi convicción de que el libro bien podría ser autoconclusivo porque lo que nos interesa saber de estos personajes ya se ha contado, cualquier trama adyacente podría ser superflua.
Lo Mejor
Ayesha como personaje enigmático, diosa inalcanzable. Mujer poderosa y guerrera invencible. Lo poco que vemos de ella y su templo nos hace querer averiguar más.
Lo Peor
El romance. No hay. Solo porque dos personas se digan que se aman no significa que el lector vaya a creerselo. Y eso aplica para las dos mujeres que se pelean por el hombre. En serio ¿qué le ven a Leo? Ellas dos resultan infinitamente más interesantes que él.
Compré este libro usado en una feria del libro hace ya bastantes años, en un tiempo en que GR aún no existía y no tenía forma de saber que era el segundo libro de una tetralogía. Pero la sinopsis fue lo suficiente atrayente para hacerme continuar aún tras darme cuenta que seguía la historia de unos personajes que ya debería conocer. La historia tiene los suficientes vistazos al pasado para que no hiciera falta haber leído el primer libro.
Más de la mitad de la historia abarca el largo viaje de años que hacen estos dos hombres para buscar el paradero de Ayesha, que le fue revelado a Leo en un sueño. Se enfrentan a toda clase de vicisitudes, desde monasterios, tribus salvajes y hasta avalanchas y ríos salvajes; es en esta parte del libro que reside el verdadero interés: la búsqueda insaciable de algo que no saben si alcanzarán alguna vez. Pero cuando al fin alcanzan su destino la historia empieza a perder fuerza.
Recientemente leí otro libro de amores inmortales y reencarnaciones y Ayesha me ha dejado con la impresión de aquél. ¿Cuál es exactamente la atracción de un amor instántaneo solo porque estas personas se hayan conocido en vidas pasadas? La obsesión de Leo por encontrar a su amor inmortal resulta un tanto descabellada y casi enfermiza, considerando cómo terminó su historia en su primer encuentro y luego mucho peor en el segundo (los sucesos del primer libro). Incluso cuando se reunen al fin no hay química alguna entre Leo y Ayesha. Se declaran su amor inmortal pero está lejos de parecer cándido y hermoso, más bien parecen dos insectos atraídos hacia la flama que los destruirá.
El climax fue muy apresurado y el final insatisfactorio. Podría atribuirselo a que hay más libros después, pero por la sinopsis veo que tratan con otros personajes distintos y Ayesha es la única constante.
En esta relectura se reafirmó mi convicción de que el libro bien podría ser autoconclusivo porque lo que nos interesa saber de estos personajes ya se ha contado, cualquier trama adyacente podría ser superflua.
Lo Mejor
Ayesha como personaje enigmático, diosa inalcanzable. Mujer poderosa y guerrera invencible. Lo poco que vemos de ella y su templo nos hace querer averiguar más.
Lo Peor
El romance. No hay. Solo porque dos personas se digan que se aman no significa que el lector vaya a creerselo. Y eso aplica para las dos mujeres que se pelean por el hombre. En serio ¿qué le ven a Leo? Ellas dos resultan infinitamente más interesantes que él.
lbrex's review against another edition
3.0
I'm adding an extra star here. This book has an unpardonably slow beginning. If you thought Job, Holly, and Leo's adventures through Africa in _She_ lagged a bit, the travels through Tibet in this book and the resulting arrival in Kaloon are a rough go. Yet this book improves drastically when Ayesha finally returns in all of her glory. True, there is something less transgressive about her, but the fluidity of her identity and the scope of her plans for global domination are fascinating. She's going to marry Leo, appear to the people of Peking, slowly gain control over China, and then defeat all of the other nations of the world (including the diminutive continent of Europe). She is also a alchemist, she can turn iron into gold, and she will flood the global economy with her new gold, in effect destroying capitalism. Who, though, is Ayesha? Haggard may not be sure himself, but Haggard introduces a variety of possibilities. Perhaps she is an angel who fell in love with a human, perhaps she is the instrument of Isis, perhaps she believes in all religions, perhaps she is a Buddhist who cannot give up the idea of erotic love? It's more or less unclear, but it's fun to move through the possibilities.
I can't in good conscience recommend this to everyone, but if you want to read more Haggard, you can do far worse than this volume.
I can't in good conscience recommend this to everyone, but if you want to read more Haggard, you can do far worse than this volume.
pedanther's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
mysterious
slow-paced
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
Much of the power of the original She came from its central figure being such a complex and ambiguous character, both genuinely attractive and genuinely dangerous, not fitting into any of the conventional narrative boxes usually reserved for female characters. For her Return, Haggard tries to fit her into one such box, in the process losing most of what made her interesting enough to bring back.
kailey_luminouslibro's review against another edition
3.0
Simply incredible writing! Genius story-telling.
albatrossonhalfpointe's review against another edition
2.0
Leo Vincey's father has left him a mysterious casket in his will, which can only be opened on his twenty-fifth birthday. When the day arrives, Leo unlocks it to discover ancient scrolls, a fragment of pottery marked with strange inscriptions - and a letter. Its contents reveal a mystery that Leo must travel all the way to Africa to solve, taking him on an adventure beyond his wildest imaginings.
Sailing across stormy seas to Zanzibar, Leo endures shipwreck, fever and cannibals attacks, before coming face to face with Ayesha, She-who-must-be-obeyed: the beautiful, tyrannical ruler of a lost civilization. She has been waiting hundreds of years for the true descendant of her dead lover to arrive. And arrive he does - with terrifying consequences...
I picked this up as a result of finding myself watching an utterly ridiculous movie on TV that I'd come across while channel surfing. I only caught about the last hour, but the sheer ridiculousness and bad acting of it kinda sucked me in. Later, checking it out on IMDB, I discovered that it was based on a book, and decided to read the book. So here I am.
The book is... very different from what they chose to do with the movie. I can't speak to the first half of the movie, but, aside from some key plot elements, the second half bore essentially no resemblance. I can't entirely blame the movie people for doing that, since, for such an epic sort of story, very little actually happens. Mostly there's a hell of a lot of talking. But yeah. In the movie, all kinds of stuff happens before they even encounter Ayesha, which happens in the last, like, 45 minutes of the movie. In the book, very little, aside from a rough passage and attempted cannibalization, happens before they get to Ayesha about halfway through the book. And then the endless talking starts. Oy. Aside from this notable structural difference, there are also a variety of additions and alterations, but in the end, Ayesha dies, and the adventurers go on their merry way and eventually make it back home.
The writing in this book is actually very pretty, and downright poetic at times. For example:
The moon went slowly down in chastened loveliness, she departed like some sweet bride into her chamber, and long veil-like shadows crept up the sky through which the stars peeped shyly out. Soon, however, they too began to pale before a splendour in the east, and then the quivering footsteps of the dawn came rushing across the new-born blue, and shook the planets from their places. Quieter and yet more quiet grew the sea, quiet as the soft mist that brooded upon her bosom, and covered up her troubling, as the elusive wreaths of sleep brood upon a pain-wracked mind, causing it to forget its sorrow. From the east to the west spread the angels of the Dawn, from sea to sea, from mountain top to mountain top, scattering light with both their hands. On they sped out of the darkness, perfect, glorious, like spirits of the just breaking from the tomb; on, over the quiet sea, over the low coast line, and the swamps beyond, and the mountains beyond them; over those who slept in peace, and those who woke in sorrow; over the evil and the good; over the living and dead; over the wide world and all that breathes or has breathed thereon. - p.68
That was the most striking example, I think, but there definitely were other passages with a similar feel to them. I don't normally like reading poetry, or excessive descriptions in novels, but I actually kinda dug this guy's style.
What I did not so much care for is the inherent racism of pretty much any book published in 1887. One has to take a certain amount with a grain of salt, because the unfortunate fact of the matter is that those were the prevailing attitudes of the time, but it's still, for my modern sensibilities, a little distressing to read some character's vocal distaste and distrust for the "black devils" or similar epithets. It's telling, too, the fact that although Ayesha is Arab, she's also explicitly described as a white woman. Like I said, a little distressing, but I don't really want to get into the debate right now of whether or not we should continue to consider old works of art that are blatantly offensive in their racism/sexism/whateverism, as still valuable because they're old and classic, or whether we should just let them die because the attitudes in them are so, well, offensive. In any case, I don't expect anyone to have their moral compass guided by H. Rider Haggard, so I'm not too worried.
Sailing across stormy seas to Zanzibar, Leo endures shipwreck, fever and cannibals attacks, before coming face to face with Ayesha, She-who-must-be-obeyed: the beautiful, tyrannical ruler of a lost civilization. She has been waiting hundreds of years for the true descendant of her dead lover to arrive. And arrive he does - with terrifying consequences...
I picked this up as a result of finding myself watching an utterly ridiculous movie on TV that I'd come across while channel surfing. I only caught about the last hour, but the sheer ridiculousness and bad acting of it kinda sucked me in. Later, checking it out on IMDB, I discovered that it was based on a book, and decided to read the book. So here I am.
The book is... very different from what they chose to do with the movie. I can't speak to the first half of the movie, but, aside from some key plot elements, the second half bore essentially no resemblance. I can't entirely blame the movie people for doing that, since, for such an epic sort of story, very little actually happens. Mostly there's a hell of a lot of talking. But yeah. In the movie, all kinds of stuff happens before they even encounter Ayesha, which happens in the last, like, 45 minutes of the movie. In the book, very little, aside from a rough passage and attempted cannibalization, happens before they get to Ayesha about halfway through the book. And then the endless talking starts. Oy. Aside from this notable structural difference, there are also a variety of additions and alterations, but in the end, Ayesha dies, and the adventurers go on their merry way and eventually make it back home.
The writing in this book is actually very pretty, and downright poetic at times. For example:
The moon went slowly down in chastened loveliness, she departed like some sweet bride into her chamber, and long veil-like shadows crept up the sky through which the stars peeped shyly out. Soon, however, they too began to pale before a splendour in the east, and then the quivering footsteps of the dawn came rushing across the new-born blue, and shook the planets from their places. Quieter and yet more quiet grew the sea, quiet as the soft mist that brooded upon her bosom, and covered up her troubling, as the elusive wreaths of sleep brood upon a pain-wracked mind, causing it to forget its sorrow. From the east to the west spread the angels of the Dawn, from sea to sea, from mountain top to mountain top, scattering light with both their hands. On they sped out of the darkness, perfect, glorious, like spirits of the just breaking from the tomb; on, over the quiet sea, over the low coast line, and the swamps beyond, and the mountains beyond them; over those who slept in peace, and those who woke in sorrow; over the evil and the good; over the living and dead; over the wide world and all that breathes or has breathed thereon. - p.68
That was the most striking example, I think, but there definitely were other passages with a similar feel to them. I don't normally like reading poetry, or excessive descriptions in novels, but I actually kinda dug this guy's style.
What I did not so much care for is the inherent racism of pretty much any book published in 1887. One has to take a certain amount with a grain of salt, because the unfortunate fact of the matter is that those were the prevailing attitudes of the time, but it's still, for my modern sensibilities, a little distressing to read some character's vocal distaste and distrust for the "black devils" or similar epithets. It's telling, too, the fact that although Ayesha is Arab, she's also explicitly described as a white woman. Like I said, a little distressing, but I don't really want to get into the debate right now of whether or not we should continue to consider old works of art that are blatantly offensive in their racism/sexism/whateverism, as still valuable because they're old and classic, or whether we should just let them die because the attitudes in them are so, well, offensive. In any case, I don't expect anyone to have their moral compass guided by H. Rider Haggard, so I'm not too worried.
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