Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector’s passion borders on the chaos of memories


ive been reading the collector by john fowles this week and found it to be one of those annoying books that was brilliant until halfway then bored the shit out of me the rest of the way. concerning a butterfly collector who kidnapps a woman and keeps her captive in his basement the first part of the book is written from his perspective. i found this section of the book to be engrossing, well written and enjoyable but halfway through the book switches to the females persepective and – GOES BACK TO THE START OF THE STORY! to say i found this annoying would be an understatement. i wouldn’t have minded so much if it had been interspersed chapter by chapter (allthough i probably still would have skim read a lot of the girl’s stuff as i find her a much less interesting narrator) but to have to go back to the start again really ruined the pace of the book for me. it took quite a bit of effort to finish it after this point but i did stick with it until the end.
not a bad book, but not a great one either.


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