Scan barcode
angus_mckeogh's review against another edition
2.0
Perhaps much more well written than something contemporary like 50 Shades of Gray. But that doesn't change the fact that the story is still terribly repetitive and boring. Not great by any measure.
terryskylark's review against another edition
challenging
dark
funny
lighthearted
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
mouhy's review against another edition
5.0
This book shouldn't work but it does. Weird and trippy is usually not my cup of tea but I ended up liking it more than I expected. Hence the five-star rating.
briandice's review against another edition
5.0
One might find this novella base. One might find that base desires and longings, base natural proclivities, base sexual deviancies are not worth reading. I want to Coover all those bases.
This novella is dark, gallows-humor funny, brilliant. Its actors are caught in a perpetual loop - a timeless equation whose therom has been proved in the Master's "manual". Both the Maid and the Master succumb to those maths regardless of the minor props that make an appearance and could potentially alter the course. "Maybe it's some kind of failure of communication," muses the Master. "A mutual failure. Is that possible?" Is the question directed internally to the action of the story? Or is it between Coover and his Reader. Am I coming through, loud and clear?
No? Start again. I'm not going anywhere.
This novella is dark, gallows-humor funny, brilliant. Its actors are caught in a perpetual loop - a timeless equation whose therom has been proved in the Master's "manual". Both the Maid and the Master succumb to those maths regardless of the minor props that make an appearance and could potentially alter the course. "Maybe it's some kind of failure of communication," muses the Master. "A mutual failure. Is that possible?" Is the question directed internally to the action of the story? Or is it between Coover and his Reader. Am I coming through, loud and clear?
No? Start again. I'm not going anywhere.
ctomchek's review against another edition
3.0
kinda sucks that you can read this in one sitting (one hour really) bc if i sat with it a little longer id probably appreciate it more
versmonesprit's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
5.0
If ever Sade were to have a literary heir — not a descendant; a true heir — it would undoubtedly be this masterpiece. Such a disservice to label either as erotica when they’re in fact provocative sociopolitical commentaries, revolutionary in the way they aim for an almost salacious façade to uproot the assumed uppity readers.
Days play out in sections parallel to each other, the repetitive nature of an almost limbo-like condition thus emphasised, blurring the lines of time and narration alike. There is a quality of Calvino too in not just these reoccurrences, but also in the wordplays that plague and confuse and elude the character of the master, as well as in the oddity and absurdity in the objects that appear mysteriously inside the bedcovers.
The book gives you enough crumbs about the characters’ motivations, but never explains or answers the fundamental why, instead prompting the reader to excavate the mindsets, the psychologies, the allegories hidden behind the characters: the innate desire to govern, but also to be governed; the eventually self-destructive crusade not for corrigibility which is the instruction itself, but for the ultimate perfection, for God, for a sort of martyrdom at heart, for salvation through suffering; the eventual consumption by the things that are made into life missions, purposes — the destructive nature of self-enforced duty and arbitrary principles of order; the mutually compulsive but monotonous nature of violence and perhaps of transcendence; the dissolution of limits, as a result of which the ending of the past and the beginning of the present become indistinguishable; the role reversal of the instructor and the instructed, but also its simultaneous reality…
Coover is purposeful in details and delightful in profundity. If you love books that make you think, truly dig and think and ponder, Spanking the Maid will make your day.
Days play out in sections parallel to each other, the repetitive nature of an almost limbo-like condition thus emphasised, blurring the lines of time and narration alike. There is a quality of Calvino too in not just these reoccurrences, but also in the wordplays that plague and confuse and elude the character of the master, as well as in the oddity and absurdity in the objects that appear mysteriously inside the bedcovers.
The book gives you enough crumbs about the characters’ motivations, but never explains or answers the fundamental why, instead prompting the reader to excavate the mindsets, the psychologies, the allegories hidden behind the characters: the innate desire to govern, but also to be governed; the eventually self-destructive crusade not for corrigibility which is the instruction itself, but for the ultimate perfection, for God, for a sort of martyrdom at heart, for salvation through suffering; the eventual consumption by the things that are made into life missions, purposes — the destructive nature of self-enforced duty and arbitrary principles of order; the mutually compulsive but monotonous nature of violence and perhaps of transcendence; the dissolution of limits, as a result of which the ending of the past and the beginning of the present become indistinguishable; the role reversal of the instructor and the instructed, but also its simultaneous reality…
Coover is purposeful in details and delightful in profundity. If you love books that make you think, truly dig and think and ponder, Spanking the Maid will make your day.
fuchsia_groan's review against another edition
4.0
He disfrutado mucho con esta novela sobre poder y obsesión disfrazada de divertida narración erótica. El poder, la dominación, a través del masoquismo. Relaciones en las que a menudo no todo es tan obvio como podría parecer desde fuera: el “sometido” encuentra placer en la transgresión, e incluso sabiendo que el desafío no le llevará a ninguna parte, se sabe poderoso al provocar su propio castigo: con su provocación ha influido en el otro. Sabe que a su modo ejerce el control, su cuota de poder, al llevar al otro al extremo.
Los personajes de esta novela creen que preferirían hacer otra cosa, pero una suerte de adicción se lo impide, en realidad no tienen opción. Ella entra cada mañana en el dormitorio de su amo, comienza a hacer sus tareas segura de que esta vez no fallará, de que lo hará todo perfecto, pero invariablemente llega el error, con su consiguiente castigo, y todo vuelve a empezar. No se puede seguir en el mismo punto, el ritual ha de comenzar de nuevo desde el principio, siempre y cada día. Ambos son presos de esta dinámica: control, perfeccionismo, y, por tanto, obsesión.
Porque la mente del obsesivo no avanza, no procesa ni admite errores, lo que le impide seguir adelante. El error lleva al inicio, siempre, en todo caso, no se concibe seguir adelante tras haber fallado. El avance no existe al ser la perfección imposible: fuera de la repetición no hay nada, el obsesivo vive dentro de su obsesión, espacial y temporalmente, vive por y para ella. Presente, pasado y futuro son lo mismo: When it all began: on his coming here? On her coming here? Before that, in some ancient time beyond recall? And has he chosen it? Or has he, like that woman in his dream, showing him something that for some reason enraged him, been ‘born with it, sir, for your very utility’?
La obsesión es una cárcel que libera del vacío, condena y salva, impide vivir dando a la vez una razón para ello. El mundo del obsesivo es circular, como la estructura de la novela.
La habitación nunca estará del todo limpia, las sábanas de la cama siempre tendrán alguna arruga, y por lo tanto el motivo para levantarse cada día seguirá ahí. La obsesión es un camino que se espera que no conduzca a ninguna parte, pues al final se siente que solo se encontrará el abismo.
Los personajes de esta novela creen que preferirían hacer otra cosa, pero una suerte de adicción se lo impide, en realidad no tienen opción. Ella entra cada mañana en el dormitorio de su amo, comienza a hacer sus tareas segura de que esta vez no fallará, de que lo hará todo perfecto, pero invariablemente llega el error, con su consiguiente castigo, y todo vuelve a empezar. No se puede seguir en el mismo punto, el ritual ha de comenzar de nuevo desde el principio, siempre y cada día. Ambos son presos de esta dinámica: control, perfeccionismo, y, por tanto, obsesión.
Porque la mente del obsesivo no avanza, no procesa ni admite errores, lo que le impide seguir adelante. El error lleva al inicio, siempre, en todo caso, no se concibe seguir adelante tras haber fallado. El avance no existe al ser la perfección imposible: fuera de la repetición no hay nada, el obsesivo vive dentro de su obsesión, espacial y temporalmente, vive por y para ella. Presente, pasado y futuro son lo mismo: When it all began: on his coming here? On her coming here? Before that, in some ancient time beyond recall? And has he chosen it? Or has he, like that woman in his dream, showing him something that for some reason enraged him, been ‘born with it, sir, for your very utility’?
La obsesión es una cárcel que libera del vacío, condena y salva, impide vivir dando a la vez una razón para ello. El mundo del obsesivo es circular, como la estructura de la novela.
La habitación nunca estará del todo limpia, las sábanas de la cama siempre tendrán alguna arruga, y por lo tanto el motivo para levantarse cada día seguirá ahí. La obsesión es un camino que se espera que no conduzca a ninguna parte, pues al final se siente que solo se encontrará el abismo.
george_salis's review against another edition
4.0
This long-ish short story about a theocratic slave-master relationship has repetitions reminiscent of purgatory and serial dreams with surreal moments, such as the surprising disgusting horrific fragments of things that the maid finds in the master’s bed. Coover’s tale is a limbo cell that could exist within the same temporal prison as Russel Edson’s absurdist bardo of bourgeois faux pas The Song of Percival Peacock, though more sexual than social, yet not erotic, per se, just rotten. However, it’s not nearly as shocking or risqué as I had anticipated but maybe that says more about me than the book. Nevertheless, there’s a lot going on in a subtle way, almost contained/constrained within the language itself, making this a great section to a possible novel but by no means a novel on its own, as the title page and marketing lingo advertise. If anything, I would have loved to see this as Nixon’s naughty relationship with his White House maid in The Public Burning, or perhaps the role is more suited to Clinton or JFK? Overall, very much worth the read but perhaps you should try to find it online or spend a few bucks on a beat-up (spanked?) paperback.
jensteerswell's review against another edition
5.0
Who knew that a novella about literally spanking a maid would be so enjoyable?