I am currently in the process of reading my second independent reading book, Picnic at Hanging Rock.  It’s a novel of mystery and suspense from the Australian author, Joan Lindsay.  The setting is a girls’ boarding school in Australia in the year 1900.  On a picnic to the nearby massive rock formation, Hanging Rock, three girls and a supervisor vanish without a trace.  The rest of the novel follows the ensuing investigation, revealing shocking human truths along the way.  Picnic at Hanging Rock is a novel of questions, not answers.  The book is full of mystery, but never once do we ever get the sense that Lindsay feels obligated to really attempt to solve the mystery.  That’s not the point.  The book is not a whodunit.  While revelations are come to about the girls (I won’t spoil anything) the rock at the center of the entire mystery remains shrouded in mystery.  With no satisfying literal conclusion, one must search for a deeper meaning in the text.  And believe me when I say that there is no shortage of meaning to be found in these pages.  What I personally got out of the story was a striking commentary on the social stigma around female emotions and sexuality and the repression of such “uncomfortable” ideas.  The rock is freedom from repression.  When the girls first begin to explore the slopes of the rock and shed their shoes and stockings, they shed any bonds that the school, i.e. the order and structure of everyday society, has over them.  When the girls disappear, they leave behind a younger girl, Sara, who wasn’t allowed on the picnic.  Sara has an infatuation with Miranda, the most beautiful and mysterious of the vanished girls, which Miranda may or may not share.  Whether it is simply a sisterly bond or something more scandalous remains unclear, but either way, I feel like it holds great meaning. I’m not exactly sure what.  Overall, Lindsay is master of creating a huge amount of depth for her characters and ideas.  The book is so rich, we feel as though there is so much about these character’s lives that goes unexplored, as if we are just reading the tip of the iceberg.  Despite this feeling, never once do we truly desire to know more than what Lindsay presents us with.  Any more would overcomplicate things.  Reading the text as it is, we already feel voyeuristic, as if we are witnessing something forbidden and secret.  And yet Lindsay relishes that feeling, basks in it, and we can’t look away. It’s too haunting.  With beautifully crafted sentences and flowing prose, the novel is truly deserving of its status as a classic. A film based off Joan Lindsay’s novel was made during the 1970s brilliantly directed by Peter Weir.  With a haunting soundtrack and gorgeous colors and cinematography, not to mention superb acting and direction, I would also highly recommend checking that out.  It is just as good as the book, if not slightly better.

For my first independent reading book, I read Anthony Burgess's science fiction epic, A Clockwork Orange.  For those that aren't familiar with the novel or the brilliant film adaptation directed by Stanley Kubrick, the narrative follows Alex DeLarge, a teenage hoodlum in a dystopian British society.  Alex is an amazing character, as he completely and genuinely lacks all remorse.  The story told from his perspective is extremely disturbing but gripping at the same time.  As it’s told in the first person, Burgess writes using all the slang that a teenager in a dystopian future would, which equates to an entirely new language in sections.  Thus deciphering the book is half the battle in reading it.  This writing style really makes the reader focus on contextual cues and syntax, making it a much more thought-provoking read than it otherwise would be.  That being said, I had seen the film before reading the novel, so I was already familiar with much of the language going into the text.  Looking back, I do regret this, as I could read the book easily when it was intended to be a much more in-depth experience.  It was, however, still a great read.  One part that especially stood out to me, and in a negative way, unfortunately, was the final chapter.  Originally, I had heard that the final chapter, in which Alex grows up and learns the error of his ways, was required for an American release so that it would have a happy ending.  However, upon reading the book’s introduction, Burgess states that this chapter was intended and that because the film left it out, he disowned Kubrick’s work.  Personally, I disagree with Burgess on this point.  In my opinion, I believe that the story works much better without the final chapter.  The final chapter seems to destroy the point of the film, which is to me to explore the limits of freedom of will and to demonstrate the general public’s psychological attraction to a protagonist of any type.  To have Alex grow out of his evil ways gives the entire story a different bent which, personally, I don’t think has a place in the novel.  Overall, though, I think the book is fantastic.  It’s a tale about constitutional rights and having a right to your own thoughts and actions.  The government tries to limit Alex’s violent tendencies with a new scientific procedure, and this is the main conflict in the book.  besides the disjointing of the last chapter, the text is brilliant, and the characters and themes fascinating.  I would gladly recommend it to anyone interested in cautionary tales or science fiction of any kind.  However, the film is extremely disturbing in many ways, so I would say that anyone who’s squeamish might want to steer clear of this one.  As a testament to the book’s power, I finished the text several days ago, and am still thinking about it today.  It truly is a lasting book. It has power.  Moving forward, I’d definitely like to read more of Burgess’s work.