Withdrawn, uneducated, and unloved, Frederick collects butterflies and takes photographs. He is obsessed with a beautiful stranger, the art student Miranda.
When he wins the pools, he buys a remote Sussex house and calmly abducts Miranda, believing she will grow to love him in time. Alone and desperate, Miranda must struggle to overcome her own prejudices and contempt if she is understand her captor, and so gain her freedom.
©1963 John Fowles (P)2011 AudioGo Ltd
A part-time buffoon and ersatz scholar specializing in BS, pedantry, schmaltz and cultural coprophagia.
I loved this novel of obsession, passion and control. While at the plot level it seems like (what now is a basic, but when it came out was revolutionary) psychological creep thriller (see Criminal Minds, Law & Order, Misery, etc.), this novel is much, much more. It is an exploration and a nuanced look at class struggles, art, power, religion, money, etc.). It is a novel that resonates on several levels. It reminded me of a some weird love-child of Vladimir Nabokov and Thomas Harris. But, perhaps that is just the whispers of all those moths and butterflies talking to me. The narrator bugged at times, but overall did a good job.
This is a masterpiece of a first novel.
Bizarre and powerful. A compelling portrait of intriguing self-delusion.
Wilby slips into the role so effortlessly that one easily forgets that it isn't actually Ferdinand Clegg telling the story. Wilby should be nominated for an award.
no, if you want scary or thrill--you don't get any. if you want a good story, it isn't good it is boring.
no, it was boring. the story was tiresome.
there were only two. the both seemed the same to me: bland and for all the "out loud thinking" that was going on, i felt i didn't know either of them well.
maybe, i think it is a movie. it probably got jazzed up and made a lot more exciting.
this is not the worst book i read but i probably will not read it again.
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