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Directions for questions 33 to 35: The passage given below is followed by a set of three questions. Choose the most appropriate answer to each question.
Thomas Harris' latest novel is being hailed as the long awaited sequel to The Silence of the Lambs, but I have never thought that novel actually needed one. It stood on its own, finished and complete. After I put that book down I did not think to ask what Hannibal was going to do next. In my opinion he had done enough. I've always preferred a novel that concludes with a few loose ends because, in life, not all problems get tied up nice and neat. There was something so frightening, so giddily uncomfortable about knowing that Hannibal “The Cannibal” was loose on an unsuspecting world. Author Harris did readers a favor by letting us all keep a little of that fear in our hearts and minds for the past 11 years.
But we became so intrigued by Hannibal, didn’t we? And we wanted to see more of him. When we first met him in Harris's second novel Red Dragon, he was a small but important player, giving reluctant but brilliant insights into the mind of a serial killer to FBI agent Will Graham. In The Silence of the Lambs it was FBI cadet Clarice Starling looking for a multiple murderer and Lecter became a major and integral part of the story. And when we saw Hannibal brought to life by Anthony Hopkins in the 1991 film, we became hooked. Rarely before had we been drawn to such an evil character— one who charm ed and hypnotized us with his combination of verbal gymnastics, Old World manners and awesome intellectual abilities.
But now there is Hannibal, Harris’s latest novel, and this time Dr. Hannibal Lecter is the player. And like The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal is finished and complete and stands on its own. Quite well in fact.
In Hannibal, Ham's plumbs the shadowy depths of Lector's mind and throws us into the stinking oubliette of his psyche, taking us through past — and possibly significant — remembrances. When we re-ascend, it is with a startling array of knowledge about the man. We find him fascinating, sympathetic and — despite his dietary habits and penchant for killing (and consuming) only the "rude” — a likable character. I like the well rounded character that Harris has created, even if he’s somewhat outlandish, flamboyant and deeply disturbed. Hannibal loves the finer things in life: classical music, ancient literature, fine art, a tidy evisceration...
The novel’s title works, not only because it is about Hannibal; it is Hannibal. And though the narration is in the third person, it speaks with his voice. It’s a voice of culture and intelligence; of terror and menace. In hushed conspiratorial tones, it politely invites us to witness acts of inhuman horror and suffering. Almost — almost — making them palatable. And if not palatable, then so fascinating we find it hard to turn away. Harris does not write of these atrocities from the moral standpoint of someone who thinks the things Hannibal does are wrong; we all know what he does is wrong. Even Hannibal knows very well what he does is wrong. He also believes he has the intellectual and moral superiority to justify his actions, and this is Harris's triumph in the narration. We are shown things in the way Hannibal would see them through his intellectually superior and amoral eyes, and it is up to us to decide the right or wrongness of things. We also see things with an almost clinically unprejudiced and sometimes uncomfortably uncensored eye; unwavering, unblinking. Harris’s prose is elegant and economic.
Thomas Harris' latest novel is being hailed as the long awaited sequel to The Silence of the Lambs, but I have never thought that novel actually needed one. It stood on its own, finished and complete. After I put that book down I did not think to ask what Hannibal was going to do next. In my opinion he had done enough. I've always preferred a novel that concludes with a few loose ends because, in life, not all problems get tied up nice and neat. There was something so frightening, so giddily uncomfortable about knowing that Hannibal “The Cannibal” was loose on an unsuspecting world. Author Harris did readers a favor by letting us all keep a little of that fear in our hearts and minds for the past 11 years.
But we became so intrigued by Hannibal, didn’t we? And we wanted to see more of him. When we first met him in Harris's second novel Red Dragon, he was a small but important player, giving reluctant but brilliant insights into the mind of a serial killer to FBI agent Will Graham. In The Silence of the Lambs it was FBI cadet Clarice Starling looking for a multiple murderer and Lecter became a major and integral part of the story. And when we saw Hannibal brought to life by Anthony Hopkins in the 1991 film, we became hooked. Rarely before had we been drawn to such an evil character— one who charm ed and hypnotized us with his combination of verbal gymnastics, Old World manners and awesome intellectual abilities.
But now there is Hannibal, Harris’s latest novel, and this time Dr. Hannibal Lecter is the player. And like The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal is finished and complete and stands on its own. Quite well in fact.
In Hannibal, Ham's plumbs the shadowy depths of Lector's mind and throws us into the stinking oubliette of his psyche, taking us through past — and possibly significant — remembrances. When we re-ascend, it is with a startling array of knowledge about the man. We find him fascinating, sympathetic and — despite his dietary habits and penchant for killing (and consuming) only the "rude” — a likable character. I like the well rounded character that Harris has created, even if he’s somewhat outlandish, flamboyant and deeply disturbed. Hannibal loves the finer things in life: classical music, ancient literature, fine art, a tidy evisceration...
The novel’s title works, not only because it is about Hannibal; it is Hannibal. And though the narration is in the third person, it speaks with his voice. It’s a voice of culture and intelligence; of terror and menace. In hushed conspiratorial tones, it politely invites us to witness acts of inhuman horror and suffering. Almost — almost — making them palatable. And if not palatable, then so fascinating we find it hard to turn away. Harris does not write of these atrocities from the moral standpoint of someone who thinks the things Hannibal does are wrong; we all know what he does is wrong. Even Hannibal knows very well what he does is wrong. He also believes he has the intellectual and moral superiority to justify his actions, and this is Harris's triumph in the narration. We are shown things in the way Hannibal would see them through his intellectually superior and amoral eyes, and it is up to us to decide the right or wrongness of things. We also see things with an almost clinically unprejudiced and sometimes uncomfortably uncensored eye; unwavering, unblinking. Harris’s prose is elegant and economic.
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Question : 33
Total: 60
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