The twenty-ninth book: #29 Pamela - Samuel Robertson
Oh god... this was a drag for the past few weeks. Pamela is meant to be the perfect woman of the 18th century - pure, demure, protecting herself and then marrying the man who kidnapped here after he's sick for a day or two because of her absence. To me, she's gullible and, most of the time, just plain wrong. I realise it's a 250 year difference and everything has changed, but this just made me think of her as stupid several times during the book.
Written entirely in letters, the format felt a bit off putting as well. Sure, we see her thoughts, but they just make me like her less. Her actions aren't defensible in my eyes, the people she trusts were reprehensible to her before, and forgiveness comes a bit too quickly. Some books can get moralising - this isn't something that always pays off, and it doesn't here for sure.
The fourtieth album: #40 James Brown - Live at the Apollo
Moving into some soul, James Brown is an energetic performer, something that comes out from the start of the performance. It seems like it's not as wild as the studio performances could get, it's there in the music and vocals. What probably adds to the tamer sounds at times is that there are still a lot of harmonies in the songs, which makes for quieter moments, although James Brown often manages to pull these out to become grander.
The crowd reactions reflect this, getting wild at times and going along with the quieter bits. They're not quite sensitive - James Brown never lets them stay small - but it does go up and down. At the same time, James Brown doesn't really seem to interact with the crowds much. You'd expect to hear a response to some crowd reactions in the song too, but all of that feels fairly scripted. It seems a bit odd and unfortunate, but it's probably that type of set that he's going through here. In the end, despite all the other trappings, the entire album comes down to the sound of James Brown voice, and that is magnetic.