The Collector

I was very nervous starting this book because the premise sounded like it would be very upsetting. A working-class man kidnaps a bourgeois college student and holds her in his cellar in the hopes that he can somehow make her fall in love with him. I love horror and thrillers and can handle most dark subjects, but certain content I am personally careful about.

To my surprise, I found it fascinating, even though it was not a *fun* read. It was pretty dark. The narrative technique Fowles used, telling the story through both Fred and Mirandas' perspectives, was well done. Both recalled the same events but, of course, with different observed details and thoughts and assumptions. Being inside Fred's head and reading his justification for his actions was disturbing.

It was interesting to see how Fred's romanticized idea of Miranda shifted over time. In the beginning, he idolized her as this perfect, idyllic woman even when Miranda tried to be hurtful. He so desperately wanted her to love him back. But when Miranda attempted to seduce him, he seemed to have snapped and became angry and confused. The spell was broken, and Fred began to see Miranda as a "common woman," not some divine creature. Then she got sick, and he seemed to only notice the disgusting parts about her (the sores around her mouth, for example). The ending was completely tragic for all involved. Miranda for obvious reasons, but also the fact that all Fred gained from the experience was the knowledge that he had been successful in kidnapping without being caught, so why not do it again? The fact that he moved on so quickly was shocking.

I feel kind of mixed about Miranda's diary. I found most of it pretty tedious. The more interesting parts were about her perceptions of being in the cellar and her interactions with Fred, and her memories of G.P. (who, by the way, I thought was super gross--a sexist, grouchy, womanizing man twenty years her senior). One parallel I caught was that Miranda romanticized G.P. in a similar way that Fred romanticized her. G.P is a true """artist""" and that enticed Miranda. And like what happened between Fred and Miranda, once G.P. asked, "Would you like to come to bed?" (shudders, ew) a shift/rift/whatever formed between the two.

I have lots of other thoughts but I don't have the time or energy to articulate them all (entire books have been written to analyze The Collector, after all). It was a very engaging read, and I do recommend giving it a try.

Ending this review with a quote that I liked enough to mark, on page 252 (her November 26th entry):

I keep on having thoughts today. One was: uncreative men plus opportunity-to-create equals evil men.