Author: Anne Tyler
Genre: fiction
Publication info: Ballantine, 2004
Pages: 317 (including an interview with the author and discussion questions)
Finally! I’ve read an Anne Tyler book.
This is an author I’ve been aware of for many years. She’s a favorite of my parents’, and I know she’s acclaimed as a great modern literary author. I was so confident she was good that I even recommended her books to more than one person—without reading them myself. One of these people is my wife, who finally got me to read Anne Tyler. I’m glad I finally made it.
The Amateur Marriage is a chronicle of a failed relationship. I hope I haven’t spoiled it for anyone, but the interest of the story lies not in the fact that the marriage is a failure but in how and why it fails. It’s the story of Michael and Pauline, who meet the day after the bombing of Pearl Harbor and, in all the excitement, think they have fallen in love. And perhaps they really have at first, but it quickly becomes apparent that they are not well suited to each other. At Pauline’s insistence (and to his mother’s chagrin) Michael enlists in the army, but when he comes home early after a training accident, he proposes to her. She accepts even though she has already started to lose interest during his absence. They get married, and it’s all downhill from there.
The novel spans many decades, checking in periodically to show the different crises Michael and Pauline go through. By the end of the book I feel like I’ve been on a lifelong journey with them. And it seems so real. What Tyler does so well, I think, is showing life as it really is, people as they really are. This isn’t like your popular romance or thriller with a perfect plot arc and a stunning conclusion—this is an intensely believable look at real, messy life.
And that’s what I find so disturbing about it. Sometimes as I read it, I felt like their lives were my own and I was doomed to the same fate as they. Are all marriages hopeless? Even if it isn’t a disaster, are married people bound to drift apart like Michael and Pauline? After thinking about it for a while, I realized that the answer is no.
What I think this book shows, even if it doesn’t come right out and say it, is that a marriage succeeds or fails based on the choices the spouses make. And while the choice of who and when to marry is certainly a significant one, it is not the only one that matters, nor is it the last. Marriage, just like life in general, is a continuing series of choices. It’s a nonstop effort, ideally, to improve. The reason Michael and Pauline fail is that they stop trying.
I see it particularly in Michael’s character. He’s easy to side with at first because Pauline is emotionally turbulent and even unfaithful. But after a while it becomes clear that Michael simply isn’t invested any more. He decides that he doesn’t really like his wife and pulls back emotionally, instead putting all his energy into his grocery business. He doesn’t abuse her or anything—in fact quite the opposite, “no doubt scoring points in heaven for his restraint,” as Pauline sees it. It’s an interesting point that really hit home to me: You might be proud of your emotional self-control, but if it comes at the price of coldness and distance from the ones you should be closest to, it can be just as damaging. Michael was guilty of that, perhaps making him the worse of the two parties.
The saddest part is that even after the marriage has ended (again, hope I haven’t spoiled it), neither of them recognizes their mistakes. As they reflect on what went wrong, they see themselves as victims of either fate or each other and fail to see what they need to change about themselves. There is a serious lack of contrition throughout the novel, including other characters who do hurtful things. But that’s one of the most important traits you need to have to make a marriage work: the ability to recognize when you’ve done wrong, take responsibility for it, and earnestly try to do better. Michael and Pauline fail in this regard, making their story a sad one indeed.
I highly recommend The Amateur Marriage if you don’t mind a story that isn’t terribly uplifting. It’s a tragic story, but it gives you a lot to think about. That’s not to say the book isn’t funny. Even with all the sadness, there’s plenty of humor to give you something to smile at. Anne Tyler is an excellent writer. I definitely plan to read more of her work in the future.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
The Case for Books
Past, Present, and Future
Author: Robert Darnton
Genre: nonfiction, history
Publication info: PublicAffairs, 2009
Pages: 218
It’s been a little tough figuring out what book to read after finishing Les Misérables, so I went with a book about books. I actually just spotted this book on a shelf in the library and picked it up on a whim. The subject of books interests me, especially dealing with the rapid changes that are occurring in how people consume them.
Robert Darnton was, when he wrote this book, the director of the Harvard University Library. The Case for Books is a collection of essays, some written expressly for this book and others previously published. I expected it to be mainly a spirited criticism of the rise of the digital book, but what I got was something quite different. Darnton has actually been something of a champion of digital publishing, spearheading a project called Gutenberg-e to increase the prestige of digital publishing in academia.
His main concern is with Google Books, not because he disagrees with its mission to digitize books from libraries across the world and make them accessible to everyone, but because he doesn’t like the idea of Google controlling it all. He makes a good point. Information should belong to everyone, not be controlled by a single entity. But because Google beat everyone to the punch by aggressively scanning books, the opportunity may have passed to make this information more open and democratic. In Darnton’s view, this type of service should be provided by libraries, whose first priority is the advancement of knowledge rather than profit.
Anyway, that’s not actually what I found most interesting about this book. The subtitle is Past, Present, and Future, and it was the “past” part that intrigued me the most. Darnton is an expert on eighteenth-century France, so in his essays he gives a fascinating look into how the book trade worked back then. One of my favorite parts was an exposition on something called the commonplace book, in which people would compile quotations from books they read and from people they talk to. These commonplace books give historians great insights into how these people viewed the world around them, what they thought was most important. It would be great to bring back the commonplace book, but I guess that’s what people use Pinterest and Facebook for nowadays. Makes you wonder what historians will think about us hundreds of years from now. What will they think we hold most important?
I enjoyed The Case for Books. Robert Darnton is an incisive thinker and skilled writer. It wasn’t particularly life-changing, but it did make me think about some things.
Author: Robert Darnton
Genre: nonfiction, history
Publication info: PublicAffairs, 2009
Pages: 218
It’s been a little tough figuring out what book to read after finishing Les Misérables, so I went with a book about books. I actually just spotted this book on a shelf in the library and picked it up on a whim. The subject of books interests me, especially dealing with the rapid changes that are occurring in how people consume them.
Robert Darnton was, when he wrote this book, the director of the Harvard University Library. The Case for Books is a collection of essays, some written expressly for this book and others previously published. I expected it to be mainly a spirited criticism of the rise of the digital book, but what I got was something quite different. Darnton has actually been something of a champion of digital publishing, spearheading a project called Gutenberg-e to increase the prestige of digital publishing in academia.
His main concern is with Google Books, not because he disagrees with its mission to digitize books from libraries across the world and make them accessible to everyone, but because he doesn’t like the idea of Google controlling it all. He makes a good point. Information should belong to everyone, not be controlled by a single entity. But because Google beat everyone to the punch by aggressively scanning books, the opportunity may have passed to make this information more open and democratic. In Darnton’s view, this type of service should be provided by libraries, whose first priority is the advancement of knowledge rather than profit.
Anyway, that’s not actually what I found most interesting about this book. The subtitle is Past, Present, and Future, and it was the “past” part that intrigued me the most. Darnton is an expert on eighteenth-century France, so in his essays he gives a fascinating look into how the book trade worked back then. One of my favorite parts was an exposition on something called the commonplace book, in which people would compile quotations from books they read and from people they talk to. These commonplace books give historians great insights into how these people viewed the world around them, what they thought was most important. It would be great to bring back the commonplace book, but I guess that’s what people use Pinterest and Facebook for nowadays. Makes you wonder what historians will think about us hundreds of years from now. What will they think we hold most important?
I enjoyed The Case for Books. Robert Darnton is an incisive thinker and skilled writer. It wasn’t particularly life-changing, but it did make me think about some things.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Les Misérables—Part 2
Les Misérables is simply to good a book for me to write only once about it. Plus, I have spent so much time with it that I haven’t yet figured out how to read a book that isn’t Les Mis, like what happened with The Lord of the Rings last year. So in this post (and possibly more), I’m going to delve a little deeper into the many fascinating themes that make up this monument of literature.
In this novel, Victor Hugo asks a lot of questions, both directly and through the story. These are difficult questions, and there are lot more of them than answers. One question I find myself asking after reading this book is this: Am I willing to do the right thing, even if it means making others think I’m the bad guy?
Let me explain. In the very first part of the novel, we get to know a character known affectionately as Monseigneur Bienvenu, the bishop of Digne. This is the man who will eventually change Jean Valjean’s life forever. Before Jean Valjean, shows up, however, we get to know just how good the bishop is (this is one advantage the book has over the musical). Although he receives a substantial salary from the church, Bienvenu gives almost all of it to the poor. He moves out of his bishop’s palace so the hospital can move into it. His door is always open, and he always gives freely to people that ask him for help.
But then he meets a challenge that is almost too much for him. He learns that a certain old man in his diocese is dying. This man, whose name we never learn, was a member of the Convention during the French Revolution. Therefore, everybody in the village considers him a wicked man, because they are all staunch royalists. Even the bishop is a little repulsed; he looks back on the infamous beheadings of the Revolution with nothing but disdain. What’s more, the dying man is an atheist. But the bishop feels that it’s his duty to go visit the man in his final hours, and so he goes.
It takes him three-quarters of an hour to get to the man’s home on foot—the bishop has long since given up his carriage. When he arrives, an animated conversation ensues that pushes even the good bishop’s Christian love to the test.
Here’s the thing that really strikes me. The Conventionist asks the bishop where he put his carriage. He then launches a tirade about the luxurious life the bishop no doubt enjoys, having all the bounties of life afforded by his generous allowance from the church. Remember that the bishop at this point is living on next to nothing. He walked to this man’s remote house. The only luxury he grants himself is a small set of silver, which becomes significant later.
But what does the bishop do to correct this man’s mistaken views? Nothing. He doesn’t say a word. Actually, he pretty much goes along with it, all but admitting to this luxurious lifestyle that he doesn’t really have. As a result, the Conventionist goes to his grave thinking that this incredibly virtuous, humble, selfless clergyman is just like all the other clergy he supposedly has known—the exact opposite of those qualities. The conversation they have does soften the man’s heart somewhat, but never does the bishop insist on how good he actually is.
How many of us would do that? How often do we want to let people know just how good we are? It’s natural to want to be recognized for what we do. But this bishop rises above his human nature and reaches instead for the divine by keeping quiet. The teachings in the Sermon on the Mount about laying up treasures in heaven rather than on earth were central to everything he did.
This is the man that helps Jean Valjean change from bad to good. As it happens, Jean Valjean eventually does something similar, sacrificing his estimation in the eyes of those around him in order to server the greater good. When he does so, the stakes are much higher, to the point where he is sabotaging his own happiness. I don’t want to give away too many details because I’m talking about the climax of the novel. But the point is that Jean Valjean, like the good bishop before him, lead me to ask myself how far I’m willing to go to do the right thing.
What is the price of being good? How much of that price do I have the courage to pay? Compared with the bishop of Digne, not very much, but I think this novel has inspired me to do a little more than I would have before.
In this novel, Victor Hugo asks a lot of questions, both directly and through the story. These are difficult questions, and there are lot more of them than answers. One question I find myself asking after reading this book is this: Am I willing to do the right thing, even if it means making others think I’m the bad guy?
Let me explain. In the very first part of the novel, we get to know a character known affectionately as Monseigneur Bienvenu, the bishop of Digne. This is the man who will eventually change Jean Valjean’s life forever. Before Jean Valjean, shows up, however, we get to know just how good the bishop is (this is one advantage the book has over the musical). Although he receives a substantial salary from the church, Bienvenu gives almost all of it to the poor. He moves out of his bishop’s palace so the hospital can move into it. His door is always open, and he always gives freely to people that ask him for help.
But then he meets a challenge that is almost too much for him. He learns that a certain old man in his diocese is dying. This man, whose name we never learn, was a member of the Convention during the French Revolution. Therefore, everybody in the village considers him a wicked man, because they are all staunch royalists. Even the bishop is a little repulsed; he looks back on the infamous beheadings of the Revolution with nothing but disdain. What’s more, the dying man is an atheist. But the bishop feels that it’s his duty to go visit the man in his final hours, and so he goes.
It takes him three-quarters of an hour to get to the man’s home on foot—the bishop has long since given up his carriage. When he arrives, an animated conversation ensues that pushes even the good bishop’s Christian love to the test.
Here’s the thing that really strikes me. The Conventionist asks the bishop where he put his carriage. He then launches a tirade about the luxurious life the bishop no doubt enjoys, having all the bounties of life afforded by his generous allowance from the church. Remember that the bishop at this point is living on next to nothing. He walked to this man’s remote house. The only luxury he grants himself is a small set of silver, which becomes significant later.
But what does the bishop do to correct this man’s mistaken views? Nothing. He doesn’t say a word. Actually, he pretty much goes along with it, all but admitting to this luxurious lifestyle that he doesn’t really have. As a result, the Conventionist goes to his grave thinking that this incredibly virtuous, humble, selfless clergyman is just like all the other clergy he supposedly has known—the exact opposite of those qualities. The conversation they have does soften the man’s heart somewhat, but never does the bishop insist on how good he actually is.
How many of us would do that? How often do we want to let people know just how good we are? It’s natural to want to be recognized for what we do. But this bishop rises above his human nature and reaches instead for the divine by keeping quiet. The teachings in the Sermon on the Mount about laying up treasures in heaven rather than on earth were central to everything he did.
This is the man that helps Jean Valjean change from bad to good. As it happens, Jean Valjean eventually does something similar, sacrificing his estimation in the eyes of those around him in order to server the greater good. When he does so, the stakes are much higher, to the point where he is sabotaging his own happiness. I don’t want to give away too many details because I’m talking about the climax of the novel. But the point is that Jean Valjean, like the good bishop before him, lead me to ask myself how far I’m willing to go to do the right thing.
What is the price of being good? How much of that price do I have the courage to pay? Compared with the bishop of Digne, not very much, but I think this novel has inspired me to do a little more than I would have before.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Les Misérables
Author: Victor Hugo
Translator: Julie Rose
Genre: fiction, historical fiction
Publication info: Modern Library, 2008 (originally published in 1862)
Pages: 1194 (plus notes)
It has been a long time since I’ve reviewed a book, but not for lack of reading. I just recently finished reading probably one of the longest and most complex novels I’ve ever read, Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. I feel like I’ve been on a long journey, one that took up a good chunk of this year. And what a journey.
Thanks to the hugely successful musical (which, contrary to a strangely prevalent myth, was not written by Andrew Lloyd Webber), many people are familiar with this story. And since there is a new movie coming out this Christmas, many millions more will soon become familiar with it. Before reading the novel, though, I myself knew next to nothing about the story. I think I’m glad about that, because every part of it was a discovery for me.
Since this book is so massive, both physically and in scope, it would be extremely hard to give a good summary, but here goes: Released after nineteen years in prison, Jean Valjean feels like the world owes him, until a remarkable act of kindness from a bishop changes his heart forever. Now he sets out to do the most good he can, and when he adopts an orphaned girl named Cosette, it seems he has finally found happiness. But his past continues to haunt him, thanks in part to a relentless police inspector, and threatens to destroy all the joy he’s ever known.
There’s more to that, of course—a lot more. The cast of characters, for one thing, is enormous, and many of them have a lot of depth. It’s even hard to tell sometimes which one is actually the main character. But even with the epic scale (even though I usually hate the word “epic,” it applies here), Hugo manages to expose some deeply moving human conflict.
Les Misérables is famous for being really long, and many might say that it’s long for no good reason. It contains many passages that are best described as essays, only tangentially related to the overall story (Hugo himself even admits sometimes that they have no bearing on the story). It includes a lengthy retelling of the Battle of Waterloo, descriptions of an uprising that occurs years after the setting of the novel, and—my personal favorite—an opinion piece on the Paris sewer system. It’s easy to get bogged down in these parts, or skip them altogether. I don’t blame anyone that wants to skip them. But if you give them a chance and try to read the entire novel, even the seemingly pointless stuff, you’ll find that there is a lot of interesting writing in there. Hugo is a fascinating writer, especially when he gets openly opinionated about the issues of his time. I didn’t always understand the historical context, but I found it interesting to learn what kinds of things he cared about.
But, of course, it always comes back to the characters. That’s where this novel shines. Jean Valjean is a deeply troubled man who experiences a wide range of emotions. All he wants is to do good and to live in peace, but the world seems bent on destroying his peace. It’s a dark, twisted world that Hugo describes, one in which the virtuous people are convicts and prostitutes and the just people show no mercy. It’s a world, and a story, and characters, that I will be thinking about for a long time.
I can’t recommend this book enough. I you love the musical, read the book. It will make the show immensely more meaningful to you. There’s still time to read the book before the movie comes out! If you do read it, I highly recommend this recent translation by Julie Rose. There are a lot of translations out there, some in the public domain, and while I can’t compare Rose’s to the others, I can say that it is beautiful and full of energy. Give it a try.
Translator: Julie Rose
Genre: fiction, historical fiction
Publication info: Modern Library, 2008 (originally published in 1862)
Pages: 1194 (plus notes)
It has been a long time since I’ve reviewed a book, but not for lack of reading. I just recently finished reading probably one of the longest and most complex novels I’ve ever read, Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. I feel like I’ve been on a long journey, one that took up a good chunk of this year. And what a journey.
Thanks to the hugely successful musical (which, contrary to a strangely prevalent myth, was not written by Andrew Lloyd Webber), many people are familiar with this story. And since there is a new movie coming out this Christmas, many millions more will soon become familiar with it. Before reading the novel, though, I myself knew next to nothing about the story. I think I’m glad about that, because every part of it was a discovery for me.
Since this book is so massive, both physically and in scope, it would be extremely hard to give a good summary, but here goes: Released after nineteen years in prison, Jean Valjean feels like the world owes him, until a remarkable act of kindness from a bishop changes his heart forever. Now he sets out to do the most good he can, and when he adopts an orphaned girl named Cosette, it seems he has finally found happiness. But his past continues to haunt him, thanks in part to a relentless police inspector, and threatens to destroy all the joy he’s ever known.
There’s more to that, of course—a lot more. The cast of characters, for one thing, is enormous, and many of them have a lot of depth. It’s even hard to tell sometimes which one is actually the main character. But even with the epic scale (even though I usually hate the word “epic,” it applies here), Hugo manages to expose some deeply moving human conflict.
Les Misérables is famous for being really long, and many might say that it’s long for no good reason. It contains many passages that are best described as essays, only tangentially related to the overall story (Hugo himself even admits sometimes that they have no bearing on the story). It includes a lengthy retelling of the Battle of Waterloo, descriptions of an uprising that occurs years after the setting of the novel, and—my personal favorite—an opinion piece on the Paris sewer system. It’s easy to get bogged down in these parts, or skip them altogether. I don’t blame anyone that wants to skip them. But if you give them a chance and try to read the entire novel, even the seemingly pointless stuff, you’ll find that there is a lot of interesting writing in there. Hugo is a fascinating writer, especially when he gets openly opinionated about the issues of his time. I didn’t always understand the historical context, but I found it interesting to learn what kinds of things he cared about.
But, of course, it always comes back to the characters. That’s where this novel shines. Jean Valjean is a deeply troubled man who experiences a wide range of emotions. All he wants is to do good and to live in peace, but the world seems bent on destroying his peace. It’s a dark, twisted world that Hugo describes, one in which the virtuous people are convicts and prostitutes and the just people show no mercy. It’s a world, and a story, and characters, that I will be thinking about for a long time.
I can’t recommend this book enough. I you love the musical, read the book. It will make the show immensely more meaningful to you. There’s still time to read the book before the movie comes out! If you do read it, I highly recommend this recent translation by Julie Rose. There are a lot of translations out there, some in the public domain, and while I can’t compare Rose’s to the others, I can say that it is beautiful and full of energy. Give it a try.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Room
Author: Emma Donoghue
Genre: fiction
Publication info: Little, Brown and Company, 2010 (2011 paperback by Back Bay)
Pages: 321
I'm back! I'm still very behind, but I don't want to miss out on a chance to write about this remarkable book.
This novel was a bestseller in 2010, but I just now read it because I'm always a little behind the times (did you hear about that new book Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?). I don't remember when I first heard about it, but when I did the idea intrigued me. I kept forgetting about it, though, until I came across it at the library and finally read it.
Unfortunately, I started reading it at the end of last semester, and the timing couldn’t have been worse. This happens to be a very engaging novel, and when you have other more important things to be engaged in, well, you're in trouble. There were a couple of days last December when I seriously could not put this book down. It's a great feeling to be engrossed in a book, but it can also lead to some serious stress later.
Room is the story of a boy named Jack who lives in a place called Room. Room is, well, a room, and it is Jack's entire world. As the story unfolds, you discover that Jack's mother, whom we know only as Ma, has been held captive by some creepy guy for seven years, and she gave birth to Jack in the same room they've been living in all this time. Room is all that Jack knows, and so it's going to take a lot of convincing for Jack to believe that there is a better world outside. And Ma needs to convince him, because she needs him to do what to him is unthinkable in order to help them escape.
This novel is the ultimate example of a naive narrator. Everything is told from Jack's point of view, present tense, with the limited vocabulary and understanding of a five-year-old whose entire world is a single room. Thankfully, the dialogue is unfiltered, but there are plenty of times where it's hard to figure out what's going on simply because he doesn't get what's going on. I thought at first that it would be annoying to have a five-year-old narrator, and it's true that sometimes Jack is irritating because of how uncooperative he is sometimes, but most of the time, it's just fascinating. Donoghue does a splendid job with imitating the language of a young child. I also really liked his perception of time: any period of waiting usually lasted "hundreds of hours" in his mind.
The book isn't meant to be a thriller; it's a story about people, and a young boy's coming to grips with the harsh reality of life. That said, there are some moments that are truly thrilling. Without giving too much away, I want to say that during the part where they attempt their escape, I could hardly breathe as I read it. The narration is so simple and straightforward, but my heart was pounding and I was totally immersed. I'm not going to tell you how it turns out, of course. You'll just have to read it for yourself.
I do recommend this book. It's simply fascinating. Although it has a claustrophobic feel to it because of its subject matter, it never gets tiring. When you get to the end, you're going to feel that you've taken quite a journey. You'll learn a lot about the psychology of kidnapping victims, and you'll learn about what it means to grow up. I'm really glad I read this book, and I hope you do too.
Just one note about the content. Even though it's told through a child's voice, it's not exactly appropriate for children, simply because of the kind of situation the characters are in. But I think the sexual issues are rather subtly and gracefully done, and it doesn't seem superfluous at all. But it's there, so just take note of that.
Genre: fiction
Publication info: Little, Brown and Company, 2010 (2011 paperback by Back Bay)
Pages: 321
I'm back! I'm still very behind, but I don't want to miss out on a chance to write about this remarkable book.
This novel was a bestseller in 2010, but I just now read it because I'm always a little behind the times (did you hear about that new book Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?). I don't remember when I first heard about it, but when I did the idea intrigued me. I kept forgetting about it, though, until I came across it at the library and finally read it.
Unfortunately, I started reading it at the end of last semester, and the timing couldn’t have been worse. This happens to be a very engaging novel, and when you have other more important things to be engaged in, well, you're in trouble. There were a couple of days last December when I seriously could not put this book down. It's a great feeling to be engrossed in a book, but it can also lead to some serious stress later.
Room is the story of a boy named Jack who lives in a place called Room. Room is, well, a room, and it is Jack's entire world. As the story unfolds, you discover that Jack's mother, whom we know only as Ma, has been held captive by some creepy guy for seven years, and she gave birth to Jack in the same room they've been living in all this time. Room is all that Jack knows, and so it's going to take a lot of convincing for Jack to believe that there is a better world outside. And Ma needs to convince him, because she needs him to do what to him is unthinkable in order to help them escape.
This novel is the ultimate example of a naive narrator. Everything is told from Jack's point of view, present tense, with the limited vocabulary and understanding of a five-year-old whose entire world is a single room. Thankfully, the dialogue is unfiltered, but there are plenty of times where it's hard to figure out what's going on simply because he doesn't get what's going on. I thought at first that it would be annoying to have a five-year-old narrator, and it's true that sometimes Jack is irritating because of how uncooperative he is sometimes, but most of the time, it's just fascinating. Donoghue does a splendid job with imitating the language of a young child. I also really liked his perception of time: any period of waiting usually lasted "hundreds of hours" in his mind.
The book isn't meant to be a thriller; it's a story about people, and a young boy's coming to grips with the harsh reality of life. That said, there are some moments that are truly thrilling. Without giving too much away, I want to say that during the part where they attempt their escape, I could hardly breathe as I read it. The narration is so simple and straightforward, but my heart was pounding and I was totally immersed. I'm not going to tell you how it turns out, of course. You'll just have to read it for yourself.
I do recommend this book. It's simply fascinating. Although it has a claustrophobic feel to it because of its subject matter, it never gets tiring. When you get to the end, you're going to feel that you've taken quite a journey. You'll learn a lot about the psychology of kidnapping victims, and you'll learn about what it means to grow up. I'm really glad I read this book, and I hope you do too.
Just one note about the content. Even though it's told through a child's voice, it's not exactly appropriate for children, simply because of the kind of situation the characters are in. But I think the sexual issues are rather subtly and gracefully done, and it doesn't seem superfluous at all. But it's there, so just take note of that.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Future Minds
How the Digital Age Is Changing Our Minds, Why This Matters and What We Can Do About It
Author: Richard Watson
Genre: nonfiction
Publication info: Nicholas Brealey, 2010
Pages: 213
I wish everybody would read this book, and I mean everybody. If I had the money to do it, I would buy a copy for everyone I know. Anyone who knows me is welcome to borrow this from me. This is a topic that I care deeply about, especially lately, and I wish everyone would give it some thought.
The subject of the book is clear enough from the subtitle: the omnipresence of digital devices and social media in today's society is fundamentally changing the way we think and interact with other people. I've talked about this before in my review of The Shallows by Nicholas Carr (which Watson references multiple times in this book). Basically, we are so constantly filling up our time with instant information and digital diversions that we leave no time for deep, reflective thinking.
And it is deep, reflective, original, creative thinking that sets us apart as humans. Here is the scary thing that Watson points out. We know that computers are getting smarter. Google and Facebook know who you are. They can identify you in photographs and can figure out where the pictures were taken. But they became that smart only because humans made them that way. As capable as computers are, they are only good at solving predefined problems and processing data that is given to them. But they have no ability for dreaming up new ideas or asking original questions. As Watson puts it, "In the future a computer might be able to recognize a picture and tell you that it was painted in 1643 by Jan Josephsz. van Goyen [actually, it probably already can], but even then, you are unlikely to get an emotional response and even less likely to find that the computer becomes inspired and rushes off to paint something itself." It's the humans' place to do that.
But we are forfeiting our own thinking. We are increasingly relying on computers to do all our thinking and remembering for us, and we are always frantically searching for the next new bit of information. We're pulling out our phones in the middle of conversations, at the dinner table, in every quiet moment that we have. With all this, there is no time for original thinking, and without original thinking, there is nothing to set us apart from machines. Our obsession with the digital world is destroying what makes us who we are.
The point is that we need to scale back our fanaticism with everything digital. That isn't to say, as Watson states, that everything electronic is intrinsically evil, but we shouldn't be so eager to let it replace analogue forms of media and real, physical interaction with people. There needs to be a balance. There is an important role for physical books. Say what you will about how much more convenient ebooks are, you simply will not do the same calm, reflective thinking with those as you will with print media. Your mind is just not in the same state. Call me crazy, but physical books are irreplaceable. Just because something is more convenient doesn't always mean that it's better.
The great thing about this book is that it gives us ideas for what we can do about this crisis. The most important, I think, is that we just give ourselves time and space to think. That means putting away the phone, turning off the computer, and just thinking. When was the last time you just looked out the window in the car (when you're not driving, of course)? When was the last time you went for a walk and did nothing but look at the world around you? When was the last time you just sat and daydreamed? We need more of this as humans, but the trend is that these activities are diminishing.
Watson expresses all this much better than I do (although he does seem to ramble a bit sometimes, and possibly contradict himself), so I will end with another quote from him: "Given the fact that we seem to be capable of inventing more or less anything these days, perhaps a question we should be asking ourselves more frequently in the future is not whether we can invent something but whether we should."
Please, please read this book. And even more important, after you've read it, think about it.
Author: Richard Watson
Genre: nonfiction
Publication info: Nicholas Brealey, 2010
Pages: 213
I wish everybody would read this book, and I mean everybody. If I had the money to do it, I would buy a copy for everyone I know. Anyone who knows me is welcome to borrow this from me. This is a topic that I care deeply about, especially lately, and I wish everyone would give it some thought.
The subject of the book is clear enough from the subtitle: the omnipresence of digital devices and social media in today's society is fundamentally changing the way we think and interact with other people. I've talked about this before in my review of The Shallows by Nicholas Carr (which Watson references multiple times in this book). Basically, we are so constantly filling up our time with instant information and digital diversions that we leave no time for deep, reflective thinking.
And it is deep, reflective, original, creative thinking that sets us apart as humans. Here is the scary thing that Watson points out. We know that computers are getting smarter. Google and Facebook know who you are. They can identify you in photographs and can figure out where the pictures were taken. But they became that smart only because humans made them that way. As capable as computers are, they are only good at solving predefined problems and processing data that is given to them. But they have no ability for dreaming up new ideas or asking original questions. As Watson puts it, "In the future a computer might be able to recognize a picture and tell you that it was painted in 1643 by Jan Josephsz. van Goyen [actually, it probably already can], but even then, you are unlikely to get an emotional response and even less likely to find that the computer becomes inspired and rushes off to paint something itself." It's the humans' place to do that.
But we are forfeiting our own thinking. We are increasingly relying on computers to do all our thinking and remembering for us, and we are always frantically searching for the next new bit of information. We're pulling out our phones in the middle of conversations, at the dinner table, in every quiet moment that we have. With all this, there is no time for original thinking, and without original thinking, there is nothing to set us apart from machines. Our obsession with the digital world is destroying what makes us who we are.
The point is that we need to scale back our fanaticism with everything digital. That isn't to say, as Watson states, that everything electronic is intrinsically evil, but we shouldn't be so eager to let it replace analogue forms of media and real, physical interaction with people. There needs to be a balance. There is an important role for physical books. Say what you will about how much more convenient ebooks are, you simply will not do the same calm, reflective thinking with those as you will with print media. Your mind is just not in the same state. Call me crazy, but physical books are irreplaceable. Just because something is more convenient doesn't always mean that it's better.
The great thing about this book is that it gives us ideas for what we can do about this crisis. The most important, I think, is that we just give ourselves time and space to think. That means putting away the phone, turning off the computer, and just thinking. When was the last time you just looked out the window in the car (when you're not driving, of course)? When was the last time you went for a walk and did nothing but look at the world around you? When was the last time you just sat and daydreamed? We need more of this as humans, but the trend is that these activities are diminishing.
Watson expresses all this much better than I do (although he does seem to ramble a bit sometimes, and possibly contradict himself), so I will end with another quote from him: "Given the fact that we seem to be capable of inventing more or less anything these days, perhaps a question we should be asking ourselves more frequently in the future is not whether we can invent something but whether we should."
Please, please read this book. And even more important, after you've read it, think about it.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Incidences
Author: Daniil Kharms
Genre: fiction, short stories, drama, essays
Publication info: Serpent's Tail, 2006 (first published in 1993)
Pages: 240
I've fallen a little behind again. Three books, to be exact. I would like to blame it on school again, but if I did I would have to ask myself why I've been reading for fun anyway. The semester got pretty hectic toward the end, but still I found myself reading books just for fun. Perhaps it's not the wisest thing to do, but I guess I just can't help myself. And although I'm behind in my reviews for this blog, I intend to catch up with them. I've gotten to the point where I almost feel guilty if I finish a book but don't write about it here. I have my fan to please, after all!
So, Incidences. You've probably never heard of this book. I certainly hadn't until a good friend gave it to me for a wedding gift. He's a fan of Russian literature, and he told me this book blew his mind. Being somewhat of a fan of Russian literature myself (well, at least of Dostoevsky), I was interested. These short pieces by Daniil Kharms (whose real name was Daniil Ivanovich Iuvachov) were never published during his lifetime because such writing was illegal during the Soviet era. In fact, Kharms's writing got him thrown in jail. So you know it must be interesting. And since he uses the short-short story form, you know it must be weird.
And weird it is, much weirder even than I expected it to be. These are some of the most bizarre stories I have ever read. The first, and by far the longest, story of the book, "The Old Woman," tells of a young man struggling to find a way to dispose the body of an old woman that just came into his apartment and died. Most of the stories are much shorter, including the numbered sequence of thirty "incidents." "The Plummeting Old Women" is just what it sounds like—old women plummeting out of an open window one by one. And lest you think all the stories are about old women, consider "Pushkin and Gogol," a story in the form of a play that portrays Pushkin and Gogol repeatedly tripping over each other and expressing their astonishment about it. These are just a taste of the supreme strangeness of this book.
One theme that really stands out in this book is violence. Absurd violence. People suddenly get furious with each other and brutally beat each other up. An argument about whether 7 comes before 8 is interrupted by a boy falling off a bench and breaking both jaw-bones. I don't know what it all means, but Kharms certainly seemed to have a fascination with bizarre death and spontaneous violence. It got a little tiring after a while, to tell you the truth, but I kept reading because a part of me wanted to figure out what was going on in the author's head.
In the end, though, I had to give up on that. I have no idea what point the guy was trying to make, or if he was trying to make a point at all. Even the allegedly non-fictional essays toward the end of the book make Kharms seem like a caricature. I guess you can't fully appreciate what is going on here without some understanding of what life was like in Soviet Russia, of which I have very little.
Did I enjoy this book? Yes and no. Anyone that reads this blog knows that I have something of a penchant for weird literature. Sometimes I enjoy when a story is weird without any apparent reason. But I also wished I could appreciate the meaning better. And, as I mentioned earlier, I did get tired of the outrageous violence. Sometimes it was absurd enough to be funny, but sometimes it was just disgusting. And speaking of disgusting, there is a section of the book titled "Erotica" that I entirely skipped over.
I can't say that I would recommend this book to anyone, unless you also like really weird stuff, or you are really interested in Russia. That said, I'm thankful to my friend for giving me this book. I feel like, if anything, my eyes have been opened a little bit more.
Genre: fiction, short stories, drama, essays
Publication info: Serpent's Tail, 2006 (first published in 1993)
Pages: 240
I've fallen a little behind again. Three books, to be exact. I would like to blame it on school again, but if I did I would have to ask myself why I've been reading for fun anyway. The semester got pretty hectic toward the end, but still I found myself reading books just for fun. Perhaps it's not the wisest thing to do, but I guess I just can't help myself. And although I'm behind in my reviews for this blog, I intend to catch up with them. I've gotten to the point where I almost feel guilty if I finish a book but don't write about it here. I have my fan to please, after all!
So, Incidences. You've probably never heard of this book. I certainly hadn't until a good friend gave it to me for a wedding gift. He's a fan of Russian literature, and he told me this book blew his mind. Being somewhat of a fan of Russian literature myself (well, at least of Dostoevsky), I was interested. These short pieces by Daniil Kharms (whose real name was Daniil Ivanovich Iuvachov) were never published during his lifetime because such writing was illegal during the Soviet era. In fact, Kharms's writing got him thrown in jail. So you know it must be interesting. And since he uses the short-short story form, you know it must be weird.
And weird it is, much weirder even than I expected it to be. These are some of the most bizarre stories I have ever read. The first, and by far the longest, story of the book, "The Old Woman," tells of a young man struggling to find a way to dispose the body of an old woman that just came into his apartment and died. Most of the stories are much shorter, including the numbered sequence of thirty "incidents." "The Plummeting Old Women" is just what it sounds like—old women plummeting out of an open window one by one. And lest you think all the stories are about old women, consider "Pushkin and Gogol," a story in the form of a play that portrays Pushkin and Gogol repeatedly tripping over each other and expressing their astonishment about it. These are just a taste of the supreme strangeness of this book.
One theme that really stands out in this book is violence. Absurd violence. People suddenly get furious with each other and brutally beat each other up. An argument about whether 7 comes before 8 is interrupted by a boy falling off a bench and breaking both jaw-bones. I don't know what it all means, but Kharms certainly seemed to have a fascination with bizarre death and spontaneous violence. It got a little tiring after a while, to tell you the truth, but I kept reading because a part of me wanted to figure out what was going on in the author's head.
In the end, though, I had to give up on that. I have no idea what point the guy was trying to make, or if he was trying to make a point at all. Even the allegedly non-fictional essays toward the end of the book make Kharms seem like a caricature. I guess you can't fully appreciate what is going on here without some understanding of what life was like in Soviet Russia, of which I have very little.
Did I enjoy this book? Yes and no. Anyone that reads this blog knows that I have something of a penchant for weird literature. Sometimes I enjoy when a story is weird without any apparent reason. But I also wished I could appreciate the meaning better. And, as I mentioned earlier, I did get tired of the outrageous violence. Sometimes it was absurd enough to be funny, but sometimes it was just disgusting. And speaking of disgusting, there is a section of the book titled "Erotica" that I entirely skipped over.
I can't say that I would recommend this book to anyone, unless you also like really weird stuff, or you are really interested in Russia. That said, I'm thankful to my friend for giving me this book. I feel like, if anything, my eyes have been opened a little bit more.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
The Lord of the Rings
Author: J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: fiction, fantasy
Publication info: Houghton Mifflin, 1993 (first published in three parts in 1954 and 1955)
Pages: 1137 (including extensive appendices)
It has been quite a while since my last post, and I'm sure that all three of you fans are wondering where the heck I've been all this time. My answer is one word: school. I'm barely keeping up with my required reading as it is, so my recreational reading has definitely taken a hit. But don't worry. I'm going to try to find a way to get back into it.
I actually finished reading The Lord of the Rings about two months ago, but it is still pretty fresh on my mind. This has been the Year of the Ring for my wife and me. In the spring we watched the extended films (in about five sessions). Then we started working through all the special features. In the summer we both read the books, watching the special features for the films along the way (there are a lot of them!). Then we finished the books and watched all the films again. And we still have several special features to go.
Even with all of this, we haven't gotten tired of it. The Lord of the Rings is worth being immersed in. I'm not usually interested in high fantasy, but since Tolkien pretty much defined the genre, I find his work fascinating. All along the way while reading the books, I wanted to look up and learn about different aspects of the history and peoples of Middle-earth. It's simply amazing how complete the world is, how dynamic and varied. It's an entire world, with many races and cultures and languages, and with thousands of years of history, all originating from one guy's head.
I'm sure that most of you (in other words, at least two of you) are familiar with the story of The Lord of the Rings, from the films if not from the book, so I'm not going to rehash it for you. But I will say this: the experience of The Lord of the Rings is not complete without the book.
The movies were wonderful. Obviously they were carefully and lovingly done. There were some things I thought the movies did better, such as the scene at the Cracks of Doom. But until you've read the book, you won't know how deeply thought out and intricate the world of the story is. I can't explain exactly why, but the book is just so satisfying to me. The movies are a lot of fun to watch, and some parts get me pretty emotional, but the book brings a satisfaction I can't get with the movies.
One prominent example is the penultimate chapter, "The Scouring of the Shire." I know it wouldn't have been realistic to put this part in the movie, especially since people already complain about how The Return of the King had about five endings before it actually ended. But I loved this story of the final conflict of the war. It shows how the happily-ever-after is hard won (not that the hobbits didn't have a hard enough time already). It shows that the effects of war follow you home, in Frodo's case literally into your home. And I think it makes Saruman's decline all the more tragic and pathetic. It was wise not to tack this chapter onto the end of the movie, but I think it would make a great short film.
I love The Lord of the Rings. It's not without its flaws, but its good qualities make up for them. It's one of the best stories of good triumphing over evil that I know of. And one thing I especially like is that every character makes an important contribution, even the "comic relief" characters.
Give this book a chance if you haven't already. If you have given it a chance, give it another one. It's long and sometimes slow, yes, but I think it's worth it. It's just so satisfying.
Genre: fiction, fantasy
Publication info: Houghton Mifflin, 1993 (first published in three parts in 1954 and 1955)
Pages: 1137 (including extensive appendices)
It has been quite a while since my last post, and I'm sure that all three of you fans are wondering where the heck I've been all this time. My answer is one word: school. I'm barely keeping up with my required reading as it is, so my recreational reading has definitely taken a hit. But don't worry. I'm going to try to find a way to get back into it.
I actually finished reading The Lord of the Rings about two months ago, but it is still pretty fresh on my mind. This has been the Year of the Ring for my wife and me. In the spring we watched the extended films (in about five sessions). Then we started working through all the special features. In the summer we both read the books, watching the special features for the films along the way (there are a lot of them!). Then we finished the books and watched all the films again. And we still have several special features to go.
Even with all of this, we haven't gotten tired of it. The Lord of the Rings is worth being immersed in. I'm not usually interested in high fantasy, but since Tolkien pretty much defined the genre, I find his work fascinating. All along the way while reading the books, I wanted to look up and learn about different aspects of the history and peoples of Middle-earth. It's simply amazing how complete the world is, how dynamic and varied. It's an entire world, with many races and cultures and languages, and with thousands of years of history, all originating from one guy's head.
I'm sure that most of you (in other words, at least two of you) are familiar with the story of The Lord of the Rings, from the films if not from the book, so I'm not going to rehash it for you. But I will say this: the experience of The Lord of the Rings is not complete without the book.
The movies were wonderful. Obviously they were carefully and lovingly done. There were some things I thought the movies did better, such as the scene at the Cracks of Doom. But until you've read the book, you won't know how deeply thought out and intricate the world of the story is. I can't explain exactly why, but the book is just so satisfying to me. The movies are a lot of fun to watch, and some parts get me pretty emotional, but the book brings a satisfaction I can't get with the movies.
One prominent example is the penultimate chapter, "The Scouring of the Shire." I know it wouldn't have been realistic to put this part in the movie, especially since people already complain about how The Return of the King had about five endings before it actually ended. But I loved this story of the final conflict of the war. It shows how the happily-ever-after is hard won (not that the hobbits didn't have a hard enough time already). It shows that the effects of war follow you home, in Frodo's case literally into your home. And I think it makes Saruman's decline all the more tragic and pathetic. It was wise not to tack this chapter onto the end of the movie, but I think it would make a great short film.
I love The Lord of the Rings. It's not without its flaws, but its good qualities make up for them. It's one of the best stories of good triumphing over evil that I know of. And one thing I especially like is that every character makes an important contribution, even the "comic relief" characters.
Give this book a chance if you haven't already. If you have given it a chance, give it another one. It's long and sometimes slow, yes, but I think it's worth it. It's just so satisfying.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Born to Run
A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen
Author: Christopher McDougall
Genre: nonfiction
Publication info: Alfred A. Knopf, 2010
Pages: 287
I've known about this book for a while, but I never thought I would get around to reading it. In fact, I may even have been avoiding it for a while. Being a runner myself (or at least having been one—my running hasn't been so great lately), books like this frequently catch my eye, but I was hesitant to pick this one up because of what I'd heard about its connection to the barefoot craze. This isn't to say I'm against barefoot running, but the fanaticism that I often see along with it is pretty off-putting.
Well, if just so happens that I came across this book on a vacation recently, so I decided to give it a shot. And guess what. I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected to. Christopher McDougall, it turns out, is a very engaging storyteller. Yes, Born to Run is, more than anything else, a story. It's not just an extended piece of argumentation like I expected.
What is the story? It all starts with the author asking himself, "How come my foot hurts?" He's a casual runner who is really trying to enjoy the sport, but a surging pain in his foot has made that goal a tad difficult to achieve. So he goes to doctor after doctor who all tell him that running is bad for you. Of course, that answer isn't good enough for him.
With his connections as a magazine writer, McDougall finds out about the Tarahumara, a tribe of native Mexicans who live in a place called Copper Canyons, near the U.S. border. Apart from the extreme hostility of the place they live in, what sets these people apart is that they're runners. All of them—young and old, male and female. And they're not just runners; they're dang good ones, regularly going on 60-plus-mile trail races with each other. Above all, they like doing it.
McDougall wants to learn everything he can from them, but to do so, he needs to find a mysterious man known only as Caballo Blanco, an American living among the Tarahumara. Caballo seems to be the only person that really "gets" the Tarahumara. Unfortunately, he is also just as distrustful of outsiders as they are. But he has a plan. A plan to organize the greatest ultramarathon ever, right on the Tarahumara's own turf. And he needs McDougall's help to do it.
That's the basis of the story. Along the way McDougall tells the stories of famous ultrarunners who end up getting involved. And he delves into topics such as barefoot running and the apparent fact that we humans are built to run long distances. But what I enjoyed most about this book was the story. What's really cool about it is that it all really happened (although I'm sure there is some embellishment). If you search around you can find some photos of the first-ever Copper Canyons race.
The characters are quirky and endearing, the story is suspenseful and engaging, the writing style is funny and clever—this book would make a pretty good novel. But I learned some things too. For one, there are a lot of points worth considering when it comes to barefoot running (including the fact that nobody likes a barefoot fanatic). Apparently the classic running shoe has conditioned us to run improperly, and that is why we get injured so often. You can tell that running shoe companies are starting to take these ideas seriously by their more recent products. I also learned that running should, above all, be a joyful experience. That may sound strange to you, and sometimes it does to me, but I think it would be a worthy goal to shoot for: to run just for the pure enjoyment of running.
A quick warning to readers: This book has a fair share of foul language. It's a shame, really. Everything else about the book is a lot of fun. Normally I wouldn't keep reading a book with this much offensive language, but for some reason I did. I hesitate to recommend this book because of the language, but on every other count it's great. Just consider yourself warned.
Author: Christopher McDougall
Genre: nonfiction
Publication info: Alfred A. Knopf, 2010
Pages: 287
I've known about this book for a while, but I never thought I would get around to reading it. In fact, I may even have been avoiding it for a while. Being a runner myself (or at least having been one—my running hasn't been so great lately), books like this frequently catch my eye, but I was hesitant to pick this one up because of what I'd heard about its connection to the barefoot craze. This isn't to say I'm against barefoot running, but the fanaticism that I often see along with it is pretty off-putting.
Well, if just so happens that I came across this book on a vacation recently, so I decided to give it a shot. And guess what. I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected to. Christopher McDougall, it turns out, is a very engaging storyteller. Yes, Born to Run is, more than anything else, a story. It's not just an extended piece of argumentation like I expected.
What is the story? It all starts with the author asking himself, "How come my foot hurts?" He's a casual runner who is really trying to enjoy the sport, but a surging pain in his foot has made that goal a tad difficult to achieve. So he goes to doctor after doctor who all tell him that running is bad for you. Of course, that answer isn't good enough for him.
With his connections as a magazine writer, McDougall finds out about the Tarahumara, a tribe of native Mexicans who live in a place called Copper Canyons, near the U.S. border. Apart from the extreme hostility of the place they live in, what sets these people apart is that they're runners. All of them—young and old, male and female. And they're not just runners; they're dang good ones, regularly going on 60-plus-mile trail races with each other. Above all, they like doing it.
McDougall wants to learn everything he can from them, but to do so, he needs to find a mysterious man known only as Caballo Blanco, an American living among the Tarahumara. Caballo seems to be the only person that really "gets" the Tarahumara. Unfortunately, he is also just as distrustful of outsiders as they are. But he has a plan. A plan to organize the greatest ultramarathon ever, right on the Tarahumara's own turf. And he needs McDougall's help to do it.
That's the basis of the story. Along the way McDougall tells the stories of famous ultrarunners who end up getting involved. And he delves into topics such as barefoot running and the apparent fact that we humans are built to run long distances. But what I enjoyed most about this book was the story. What's really cool about it is that it all really happened (although I'm sure there is some embellishment). If you search around you can find some photos of the first-ever Copper Canyons race.
The characters are quirky and endearing, the story is suspenseful and engaging, the writing style is funny and clever—this book would make a pretty good novel. But I learned some things too. For one, there are a lot of points worth considering when it comes to barefoot running (including the fact that nobody likes a barefoot fanatic). Apparently the classic running shoe has conditioned us to run improperly, and that is why we get injured so often. You can tell that running shoe companies are starting to take these ideas seriously by their more recent products. I also learned that running should, above all, be a joyful experience. That may sound strange to you, and sometimes it does to me, but I think it would be a worthy goal to shoot for: to run just for the pure enjoyment of running.
A quick warning to readers: This book has a fair share of foul language. It's a shame, really. Everything else about the book is a lot of fun. Normally I wouldn't keep reading a book with this much offensive language, but for some reason I did. I hesitate to recommend this book because of the language, but on every other count it's great. Just consider yourself warned.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Everfound
Book 3 of the Skinjacker Trilogy
Author: Neal Shusterman
Genre: fiction, fantasy, young adult
Publication info: Simon & Schuster, 2011
Pages: 500
Young adult fiction is a strange genre. I don't get why some mediocre or downright awful books, such as The Hunger Games or the Twilight saga (respectively), get all the attention, while well-written, gripping, stunningly creative books are forced to fly under the radar.
I am, of course, referring to Neal Shusterman's Skinjacker trilogy. It's no secret that I love these books. But I'd like to believe my love isn't misplaced. Maybe there's something out there that this trilogy resembles, but I haven't heard about it.
I was excited to see that Everfound, the final installment, was coming out much sooner than I expected. I ordered it pretty soon after it was released, and I'm glad it did. This book did not disappoint me, and if you have enjoyed both Everlost and Everwild, I'm sure you will enjoy this one too.
It picks up shortly after Everwild left off (if you haven't read that one, I wouldn't recommend reading my description here—it might spoil some things for you). Both of our heroes are in pretty bad situations. Nick "the Chocolate Ogre" has been turned entirely into chocolate and doesn't remember anything about who he really is. Allie "the Outcast" is a prisoner tied to the front of a train that carries the sleeping body of Mary Hightower. It is still months before Mary is supposed to wake up from her second death, and meanwhile her group is being led by the ruthless Milos, who is fiercely devoted to Mary and will do anything—to anyone—to win her love.
So the conflict begins right away, but there is also a new piece to the puzzle: Jix, a "furjacker" who can possess animals' bodies, has come from a mysterious kingdom in the south to find out what Mary is up to. Milos welcomes him aboard the train, but Jix has his own objectives and allegiances, so it's unclear whether he will be a help or a hindrance to Mary's (and Milos's) fanatical ambitions.
And the stakes have once again been upped. For one, the characters encounter a "scar wraith," a man who has some body parts that exist in Everlost. A single touch from a scar wraith will cause an Afterlight to vanish from existence. And Mary, of course, has become even crazier than ever (in her cool, collected way). Her goal is to bring the entire living world over into Everlost. The scary thing is, she might actually have the means to do it.
Everfound is an exciting and totally satisfying conclusion to the series. One thing I love about this book is how many obstacles and conflicts the author keeps throwing at the characters. Every time, it seems like they're not going to get out of it. Every time, it feels like a genuine danger. And the solutions sometimes come at a high price. I call that good writing.
If you've read the first two books of this trilogy, don't hesitate to pick up this concluding installment. You won't be disappointed.
Author: Neal Shusterman
Genre: fiction, fantasy, young adult
Publication info: Simon & Schuster, 2011
Pages: 500
Young adult fiction is a strange genre. I don't get why some mediocre or downright awful books, such as The Hunger Games or the Twilight saga (respectively), get all the attention, while well-written, gripping, stunningly creative books are forced to fly under the radar.
I am, of course, referring to Neal Shusterman's Skinjacker trilogy. It's no secret that I love these books. But I'd like to believe my love isn't misplaced. Maybe there's something out there that this trilogy resembles, but I haven't heard about it.
I was excited to see that Everfound, the final installment, was coming out much sooner than I expected. I ordered it pretty soon after it was released, and I'm glad it did. This book did not disappoint me, and if you have enjoyed both Everlost and Everwild, I'm sure you will enjoy this one too.
It picks up shortly after Everwild left off (if you haven't read that one, I wouldn't recommend reading my description here—it might spoil some things for you). Both of our heroes are in pretty bad situations. Nick "the Chocolate Ogre" has been turned entirely into chocolate and doesn't remember anything about who he really is. Allie "the Outcast" is a prisoner tied to the front of a train that carries the sleeping body of Mary Hightower. It is still months before Mary is supposed to wake up from her second death, and meanwhile her group is being led by the ruthless Milos, who is fiercely devoted to Mary and will do anything—to anyone—to win her love.
So the conflict begins right away, but there is also a new piece to the puzzle: Jix, a "furjacker" who can possess animals' bodies, has come from a mysterious kingdom in the south to find out what Mary is up to. Milos welcomes him aboard the train, but Jix has his own objectives and allegiances, so it's unclear whether he will be a help or a hindrance to Mary's (and Milos's) fanatical ambitions.
And the stakes have once again been upped. For one, the characters encounter a "scar wraith," a man who has some body parts that exist in Everlost. A single touch from a scar wraith will cause an Afterlight to vanish from existence. And Mary, of course, has become even crazier than ever (in her cool, collected way). Her goal is to bring the entire living world over into Everlost. The scary thing is, she might actually have the means to do it.
Everfound is an exciting and totally satisfying conclusion to the series. One thing I love about this book is how many obstacles and conflicts the author keeps throwing at the characters. Every time, it seems like they're not going to get out of it. Every time, it feels like a genuine danger. And the solutions sometimes come at a high price. I call that good writing.
If you've read the first two books of this trilogy, don't hesitate to pick up this concluding installment. You won't be disappointed.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
The Hobbit
or There and Back Again
Author: J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: fiction, fantasy
Publication info: Houghton Mifflin, 1997 (originally published in 1937)
Pages: 272
Once upon a time, when I was a young boy, my dad would read to me before I went to sleep. I don't know how many books he read to me in all, but one that really stood out was J. R. R. Tolkien's famous novel The Hobbit. I could tell that this book, along with The Lord of the Rings, was something my dad loved, and he instilled that same love in me.
The problem was that, as a kid, I often fell asleep while he read aloud, and even while I was awake I didn't always understand everything. So after recently watching Peter Jackson's excellent film adaptations of The Lord of the Rings, I decided to go back and read the books again, beginning with the book that started it all, The Hobbit (which, you've probably heard, Peter Jackson is making into a film to be released next year).
What a fun little fantasy! I say "little" because, as I understand it, Tolkien wrote this book before developing the massively complex world of Middle-earth, the setting for his novels. This isn't to say that the world of The Hobbit isn't well developed, but it definitely feels simpler in comparison to the subsequent saga.
The tone is also quite a bit different. The narrator of this story is almost a character himself, interjecting his own thoughts here and there. My dad tells me it's meant to sound as if a hobbit were telling this story to younger hobbits around the hearth. All in all, the book feels aimed more at children than its sibling does.
That said, The Hobbit should appeal to children and adults alike. If you've read or seen The Lord of the Rings but have never experienced this story, you really ought to give it a shot. If nothing else, it is an important setup for the grand story to follow.
Bilbo Baggins, a quiet hobbit living contentedly in his home in Hobbiton, is unexpectedly visited by the wizard Gandalf along with twelve dwarves. Before he knows it he is recruited for a daring adventure to recover the dwarves' treasure in the Lonely Mountain, guarded by the evil and selfish dragon Smaug. Bilbo isn't the traveling type (no hobbit is), but he comes to be as great an adventurer as anyone in the group.
The most important part of the story, though, is probably in the middle when Bilbo encounters a creature named Gollum and a magical ring that turns its wearer invisible. Sound familiar? It should.
Tolkien was the master of fantasy, I believe. And I also believe that no encounter with his masterful Lord of the Rings would be complete without a reading of this wonderful little story.
Author: J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: fiction, fantasy
Publication info: Houghton Mifflin, 1997 (originally published in 1937)
Pages: 272
Once upon a time, when I was a young boy, my dad would read to me before I went to sleep. I don't know how many books he read to me in all, but one that really stood out was J. R. R. Tolkien's famous novel The Hobbit. I could tell that this book, along with The Lord of the Rings, was something my dad loved, and he instilled that same love in me.
The problem was that, as a kid, I often fell asleep while he read aloud, and even while I was awake I didn't always understand everything. So after recently watching Peter Jackson's excellent film adaptations of The Lord of the Rings, I decided to go back and read the books again, beginning with the book that started it all, The Hobbit (which, you've probably heard, Peter Jackson is making into a film to be released next year).
What a fun little fantasy! I say "little" because, as I understand it, Tolkien wrote this book before developing the massively complex world of Middle-earth, the setting for his novels. This isn't to say that the world of The Hobbit isn't well developed, but it definitely feels simpler in comparison to the subsequent saga.
The tone is also quite a bit different. The narrator of this story is almost a character himself, interjecting his own thoughts here and there. My dad tells me it's meant to sound as if a hobbit were telling this story to younger hobbits around the hearth. All in all, the book feels aimed more at children than its sibling does.
That said, The Hobbit should appeal to children and adults alike. If you've read or seen The Lord of the Rings but have never experienced this story, you really ought to give it a shot. If nothing else, it is an important setup for the grand story to follow.
Bilbo Baggins, a quiet hobbit living contentedly in his home in Hobbiton, is unexpectedly visited by the wizard Gandalf along with twelve dwarves. Before he knows it he is recruited for a daring adventure to recover the dwarves' treasure in the Lonely Mountain, guarded by the evil and selfish dragon Smaug. Bilbo isn't the traveling type (no hobbit is), but he comes to be as great an adventurer as anyone in the group.
The most important part of the story, though, is probably in the middle when Bilbo encounters a creature named Gollum and a magical ring that turns its wearer invisible. Sound familiar? It should.
Tolkien was the master of fantasy, I believe. And I also believe that no encounter with his masterful Lord of the Rings would be complete without a reading of this wonderful little story.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
The Kite Runner
Author: Khaled Hosseini
Genre: fiction
Publication info: Riverhead, 2003
Pages: 371
It's been said that you can tell the quality of a book by how long it stays with you, by how much you think about it well after you've turned the last page. The Kite Runner was recommended to me as such a book, and I have to say I agree with the judgment.
This is not your usual coming-of-age story. For one thing, it's set mostly in Afghanistan (apparently the first book by an Afghan author to be written in English). On top of the profound story, you get to learn about what life is like in this country far from the United States. You learn about kite fighting and kite running, Afghan codes of honor, and the devastation of war. For this reason alone it's an eye-opening book.
But what impressed me even more was that even though it is set in a different culture, many of the themes dealt with were quite familiar to me. They are themes that go deeper than our separate cultures and into our common humanity: friendship, the father-and-son relationship, betrayal, guilt, fear, love, redemption. If anything, this book shows that all across the world, we are more alike than we sometimes think.
The narrator of the story is Amir, the son of an affluent man known as Baba. His best friend, although he won't always admit it, is Hassan, the son of Baba's servant. The reason Amir doesn't always admit to being friends with Hassan is that Hassan is a Hazara, a member of an ethnic group considered lower-class in Afghanistan. Although they grow up basically as brothers, it becomes clear early on in the book that Hassan is much more devoted to Amir than vice versa.
Then one day, something happens that alters their relationship forever. In this terrible moment, Amir's brotherly love for Hassan is tested, and it fails. After that they drift apart, not because Hassan feels betrayed, but rather because Amir is overwhelmed with guilt. Although this pivotal moment in their friendship (I won't say exactly what happens) is painful enough by itself, it is really the guilt tearing them apart that is the most saddening.
But where there is guilt, there is also the possibility for redemption. Years later, Amir receives a phone call from an old friend who tells him what I believe is the main message of the story: "There is a way to be good again." Amir does find a way, but once again he will be tested, even more deeply than before.
It's a profound story, one that I definitely will be thinking about for a long time. I should warn you, though, that it is not exactly a pleasant story. Some of the central story elements (such as the pivotal moment I vaguely described above) are very disturbing, and at times they even caused me almost tangible pain to imagine. There is also a bit of offensive language that usually I would not tolerate, but for some reason I was able to get through it this time.
A lot of good stories have disturbing and painful aspects to them. What's important, I think, is what the story does with them. In The Kite Runner, it's not the pain that's the focus, but the redemption. There is a way to be good again. Even when you feel you've done something horrible, even when you feel beyond hope, there is a way to be good again. That message rings true with me. I hope it does with you too.
Genre: fiction
Publication info: Riverhead, 2003
Pages: 371
It's been said that you can tell the quality of a book by how long it stays with you, by how much you think about it well after you've turned the last page. The Kite Runner was recommended to me as such a book, and I have to say I agree with the judgment.
This is not your usual coming-of-age story. For one thing, it's set mostly in Afghanistan (apparently the first book by an Afghan author to be written in English). On top of the profound story, you get to learn about what life is like in this country far from the United States. You learn about kite fighting and kite running, Afghan codes of honor, and the devastation of war. For this reason alone it's an eye-opening book.
But what impressed me even more was that even though it is set in a different culture, many of the themes dealt with were quite familiar to me. They are themes that go deeper than our separate cultures and into our common humanity: friendship, the father-and-son relationship, betrayal, guilt, fear, love, redemption. If anything, this book shows that all across the world, we are more alike than we sometimes think.
The narrator of the story is Amir, the son of an affluent man known as Baba. His best friend, although he won't always admit it, is Hassan, the son of Baba's servant. The reason Amir doesn't always admit to being friends with Hassan is that Hassan is a Hazara, a member of an ethnic group considered lower-class in Afghanistan. Although they grow up basically as brothers, it becomes clear early on in the book that Hassan is much more devoted to Amir than vice versa.
Then one day, something happens that alters their relationship forever. In this terrible moment, Amir's brotherly love for Hassan is tested, and it fails. After that they drift apart, not because Hassan feels betrayed, but rather because Amir is overwhelmed with guilt. Although this pivotal moment in their friendship (I won't say exactly what happens) is painful enough by itself, it is really the guilt tearing them apart that is the most saddening.
But where there is guilt, there is also the possibility for redemption. Years later, Amir receives a phone call from an old friend who tells him what I believe is the main message of the story: "There is a way to be good again." Amir does find a way, but once again he will be tested, even more deeply than before.
It's a profound story, one that I definitely will be thinking about for a long time. I should warn you, though, that it is not exactly a pleasant story. Some of the central story elements (such as the pivotal moment I vaguely described above) are very disturbing, and at times they even caused me almost tangible pain to imagine. There is also a bit of offensive language that usually I would not tolerate, but for some reason I was able to get through it this time.
A lot of good stories have disturbing and painful aspects to them. What's important, I think, is what the story does with them. In The Kite Runner, it's not the pain that's the focus, but the redemption. There is a way to be good again. Even when you feel you've done something horrible, even when you feel beyond hope, there is a way to be good again. That message rings true with me. I hope it does with you too.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass
Author: Lewis Carroll
Genre: fiction, fantasy, nonsense
Publication info: Penguin, 1998 (originally published in 1865 and 1871, respectively)
Pages: 357 (including both novels and lots of supplementary material)
This is another one of those books that falls into the why-didn't-I-read-this-a-long-time-ago category. I guess I just assumed that, having seen the 1951 Disney movie and the more recent film directed by Tim Burton, I was familiar enough with Wonderland and its strangeness.
But let me tell you something: Those movies do not come close to how weird the Alice stories truly are. You think Tim Burton is weird? Lewis Carroll makes Burton's work look as imaginative as the tax code.
You'll just have to read these books to know what I'm talking about. But let me also warn you that I really mean what I say when I categorize them as nonsense literature. If you try to dig any meaning out of them, you're going to have a heck of a time. Lots of scholars have tried to do that, and I honestly think they were wasting their time.
I don't really know how to begin describing these books. In Wonderland, Alice chases a white rabbit down a hole and ends up in a bizarre dream world. You probably know that much already. But as I said before, it is unbelievably bizarre. So many things go unexplained, like the Duchess's cook who periodically hurls dishes at the Duchess's head, and the baby that Alice rescues from the Duchess's apparently cruel treatment but that eventually turns into a pig. Many of the more familiar elements are there: the Cheshire Cat, the croquet game with the Queen of Hearts, the mad tea party. It's funny how I continued to expect to find out why these characters were doing all the weird things they were doing. It took a long time for me to figure out that nothing is going to be explained.
In Through the Looking-Glass, much to my surprise, Alice travels to a completely different world with an entirely new cast of characters. In this story she finds herself participating in a giant (and barely recognizable) game of chess. She meets the Red and White Queens, Kings, and Knights, and all sorts of other interesting people. It is in this story that you see most of Carroll's famed wordplay (including that fantastic poem, "Jabberwocky"). But at the end, once again, you're left scratching your head with wonder.
You have to wonder what kind of mind could create such stories. I did, and that's why I appreciated the biographical introduction in this edition. After reading about Carroll's (or rather, C. L. Dodgson's) life, I'm convinced that if he were alive today, he would be in prison. His relationships with young girls, particularly the girl from whom he got the name of his main character, were more than a little disturbing.
Still, these books are well worth reading. It was nice to escape to such a strange world after being immersed in textbooks for so long. I also really liked the pictures, drawn by John Tenniel. I've never seen a story interact so well with the illustrations before. At some points the narrator even says something to the effect of "If you don't know what I'm talking about, just look at the illustration." These illustrations are anything but superfluous.
If you want to read something a little different—okay, really, really different—give the Alice books a try.
Genre: fiction, fantasy, nonsense
Publication info: Penguin, 1998 (originally published in 1865 and 1871, respectively)
Pages: 357 (including both novels and lots of supplementary material)
This is another one of those books that falls into the why-didn't-I-read-this-a-long-time-ago category. I guess I just assumed that, having seen the 1951 Disney movie and the more recent film directed by Tim Burton, I was familiar enough with Wonderland and its strangeness.
But let me tell you something: Those movies do not come close to how weird the Alice stories truly are. You think Tim Burton is weird? Lewis Carroll makes Burton's work look as imaginative as the tax code.
You'll just have to read these books to know what I'm talking about. But let me also warn you that I really mean what I say when I categorize them as nonsense literature. If you try to dig any meaning out of them, you're going to have a heck of a time. Lots of scholars have tried to do that, and I honestly think they were wasting their time.
I don't really know how to begin describing these books. In Wonderland, Alice chases a white rabbit down a hole and ends up in a bizarre dream world. You probably know that much already. But as I said before, it is unbelievably bizarre. So many things go unexplained, like the Duchess's cook who periodically hurls dishes at the Duchess's head, and the baby that Alice rescues from the Duchess's apparently cruel treatment but that eventually turns into a pig. Many of the more familiar elements are there: the Cheshire Cat, the croquet game with the Queen of Hearts, the mad tea party. It's funny how I continued to expect to find out why these characters were doing all the weird things they were doing. It took a long time for me to figure out that nothing is going to be explained.
In Through the Looking-Glass, much to my surprise, Alice travels to a completely different world with an entirely new cast of characters. In this story she finds herself participating in a giant (and barely recognizable) game of chess. She meets the Red and White Queens, Kings, and Knights, and all sorts of other interesting people. It is in this story that you see most of Carroll's famed wordplay (including that fantastic poem, "Jabberwocky"). But at the end, once again, you're left scratching your head with wonder.
You have to wonder what kind of mind could create such stories. I did, and that's why I appreciated the biographical introduction in this edition. After reading about Carroll's (or rather, C. L. Dodgson's) life, I'm convinced that if he were alive today, he would be in prison. His relationships with young girls, particularly the girl from whom he got the name of his main character, were more than a little disturbing.
Still, these books are well worth reading. It was nice to escape to such a strange world after being immersed in textbooks for so long. I also really liked the pictures, drawn by John Tenniel. I've never seen a story interact so well with the illustrations before. At some points the narrator even says something to the effect of "If you don't know what I'm talking about, just look at the illustration." These illustrations are anything but superfluous.
If you want to read something a little different—okay, really, really different—give the Alice books a try.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Writer's Journey
Mythic Structure for Writers
Author: Christopher Vogler
Genre: nonfiction, writing instruction
Publication info: Michael Wiese Productions, 2007 (3rd edition)
Pages: 406
It's been a good long while since I last posted to this blog, but that doesn't mean I haven't been reading. Sometimes when life gets crazy, you just can't read as much, or at least as fast. I know that sounds like a contradiction to what I said at the beginning of this blog. I guess I just haven't always been good at following through with my intentions.
I've still been reading a bit, though. The Writer's Journey is one of those books I was always eyeing at the bookstore. I read about it online and always looked out for sales and other excuses to buy it. But I never did—until a dear friend made it possible by giving me a gift card to a bookstore (probably one of the best gifts someone could give me). So I felt like it was finally time to buy this book, and of course read it.
What this book basically does is take myths from many cultures and distill them into a pattern that writers can use for their stories. Referring frequently to the work of mythologist Joseph Campbell, the author describes several of the most important character archetypes—the hero, the mentor, the shadow, the threshold guardian and more. And then he describes the major segments of the Hero's Journey. All along the way he explains how a writer might apply these principles to a story, and he demonstrates them with examples from major films. Questions at the end of each chapter also help apply the principles that are explained.
I liked this book. It was fun to think about stories I've read or movies I've seen and see how they fit into the patterns described in the book (I couldn't help but think of Tron: Legacy most of the time). Now, I must confess I haven't been doing a lot of writing of my own lately. But I haven't completely given up on writing, and when I finally bring myself back to it, I think I will find this book quite useful. Now that I know the structure of the book, it will now be helpful as a handbook when I design and build my own stories.
I especially like the essays at the end of the book, which were added in the third edition. In them Vogler explores some new topics in light of the Hero's Journey: polarity, physicality, catharsis. It's pretty interesting stuff. And finally, he takes the journey, applies it to the life of the writer (whence we get the title of the book), and gives the encouraging advice: "Trust the journey."
I'd recommend this book to anyone who likes to create stories. As Vogler says in the introduction, this isn't about formula but rather about structure and direction. The stories you want to create probably won't fit completely into these patterns, but you probably will find some helpful ideas in this book.
Author: Christopher Vogler
Genre: nonfiction, writing instruction
Publication info: Michael Wiese Productions, 2007 (3rd edition)
Pages: 406
It's been a good long while since I last posted to this blog, but that doesn't mean I haven't been reading. Sometimes when life gets crazy, you just can't read as much, or at least as fast. I know that sounds like a contradiction to what I said at the beginning of this blog. I guess I just haven't always been good at following through with my intentions.
I've still been reading a bit, though. The Writer's Journey is one of those books I was always eyeing at the bookstore. I read about it online and always looked out for sales and other excuses to buy it. But I never did—until a dear friend made it possible by giving me a gift card to a bookstore (probably one of the best gifts someone could give me). So I felt like it was finally time to buy this book, and of course read it.
What this book basically does is take myths from many cultures and distill them into a pattern that writers can use for their stories. Referring frequently to the work of mythologist Joseph Campbell, the author describes several of the most important character archetypes—the hero, the mentor, the shadow, the threshold guardian and more. And then he describes the major segments of the Hero's Journey. All along the way he explains how a writer might apply these principles to a story, and he demonstrates them with examples from major films. Questions at the end of each chapter also help apply the principles that are explained.
I liked this book. It was fun to think about stories I've read or movies I've seen and see how they fit into the patterns described in the book (I couldn't help but think of Tron: Legacy most of the time). Now, I must confess I haven't been doing a lot of writing of my own lately. But I haven't completely given up on writing, and when I finally bring myself back to it, I think I will find this book quite useful. Now that I know the structure of the book, it will now be helpful as a handbook when I design and build my own stories.
I especially like the essays at the end of the book, which were added in the third edition. In them Vogler explores some new topics in light of the Hero's Journey: polarity, physicality, catharsis. It's pretty interesting stuff. And finally, he takes the journey, applies it to the life of the writer (whence we get the title of the book), and gives the encouraging advice: "Trust the journey."
I'd recommend this book to anyone who likes to create stories. As Vogler says in the introduction, this isn't about formula but rather about structure and direction. The stories you want to create probably won't fit completely into these patterns, but you probably will find some helpful ideas in this book.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Good Omens
The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
Authors: Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
Genre: fiction, fantasy, apocalyptic
Publication info: Workman Publishing, 1990
Pages: 296
Neil Gaiman is an incredibly creative writer. Terry Pratchett is an incredibly funny writer. Good Omens is what you get when you combine the writing powers of both of them. The creativity and hilarity is almost too much to take.
I may have mentioned before that it takes a lot for something that I read to make me laugh out loud. Well, I laughed quite a bit while reading this book. I think that's the book's greatest strength: its little moments of hilarity. The story as a whole is well put together, but it's not necessarily amazing. Individual scenes, though, are quite enjoyable.
Good Omens features an enormous cast of characters, making it hard to follow sometimes, but definitely never dull. Two of the main characters are Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon, who have somehow been friends through the millennia of Earth's existence. They both highly enjoy life on Earth and would hate to see it end, so when Crowley is tasked with placing the Antichrist into an English family, they are worried that the end is coming and decide to work together to keep that from happening.
As it turns out, the Antichrist (non-coincidentally named Adam) becomes a rather normal boy. At eleven years old, when most of the book takes place, he does the sorts of things that any boy his age would do. But when he starts to come into his demonic powers, things spin quickly out of control.
I recall one reviewer labeling this book as "irreverent," and I would have to agree. This is not a story for someone whose religious convictions are easily offended. If however, you are confident in your convictions and can see this book for what it is—a farce—I think you will heartily enjoy it, as I did. Don't put too much stock in the story or its philosophical implications (I think Terry Pratchett generally tries too hard in that respect). Just sit back and enjoy.
I should warn you that there is a bit of strong language and some innuendo. It's disappointing in that regard. Definitely not appropriate for children. Overall, though, Good Omens is a hilariously fun romp.
Authors: Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
Genre: fiction, fantasy, apocalyptic
Publication info: Workman Publishing, 1990
Pages: 296
Neil Gaiman is an incredibly creative writer. Terry Pratchett is an incredibly funny writer. Good Omens is what you get when you combine the writing powers of both of them. The creativity and hilarity is almost too much to take.
I may have mentioned before that it takes a lot for something that I read to make me laugh out loud. Well, I laughed quite a bit while reading this book. I think that's the book's greatest strength: its little moments of hilarity. The story as a whole is well put together, but it's not necessarily amazing. Individual scenes, though, are quite enjoyable.
Good Omens features an enormous cast of characters, making it hard to follow sometimes, but definitely never dull. Two of the main characters are Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon, who have somehow been friends through the millennia of Earth's existence. They both highly enjoy life on Earth and would hate to see it end, so when Crowley is tasked with placing the Antichrist into an English family, they are worried that the end is coming and decide to work together to keep that from happening.
As it turns out, the Antichrist (non-coincidentally named Adam) becomes a rather normal boy. At eleven years old, when most of the book takes place, he does the sorts of things that any boy his age would do. But when he starts to come into his demonic powers, things spin quickly out of control.
I recall one reviewer labeling this book as "irreverent," and I would have to agree. This is not a story for someone whose religious convictions are easily offended. If however, you are confident in your convictions and can see this book for what it is—a farce—I think you will heartily enjoy it, as I did. Don't put too much stock in the story or its philosophical implications (I think Terry Pratchett generally tries too hard in that respect). Just sit back and enjoy.
I should warn you that there is a bit of strong language and some innuendo. It's disappointing in that regard. Definitely not appropriate for children. Overall, though, Good Omens is a hilariously fun romp.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
A Christmas Carol
Author: Charles Dickens
Genre: fiction, fantasy
Publication info: Scholastic, 1962 (originally published in 1843)
Pages: 122
You are familiar with this story. I'm sure of it. You've definitely seen an adaptation of it, probably more than one. And there's a good chance you imagine Bob Cratchit as a frog. Okay, maybe not that last one, but my point is that A Christmas Carol is deeply entrenched in our Christmas traditions.
I think that's a good thing. A Christmas Carol is a great story. But I never got around to reading the actual story until just now.
As I've said with many books before, I'd been missing out. Although the story held few surprises for me in written form, I learned that Charles Dickens is a very clever and funny writer. That might seem obvious, but this is the first Dickens work I have read, so it was a delightful introduction for me.
As an example, you are probably familiar with the opening line: "Marley was dead, to begin with." The narrator goes on to really drive the point home that Marley was dead (otherwise his appearance as a ghost would have no significance). A few paragraphs down, he says that Marley was "dead as a doornail." Have you ever wondered what is so dead about a doornail? Well, this narrator wonders that for a while. The tangent he goes on has very little to do with the story, but it made me chuckle. I can tell that Dickens really knew his language.
It was also nice to read the original story so I can know how accurate the many adaptations are. I found that the Hallmark version with Patrick Stewart is very, very close (they even work in the rambling about the doornail). But other versions that you wouldn't think to be very accurate are closer than I thought. Even Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol uses a lot of lines verbatim from the story. Who would have thought?
A Christmas Carol is a delightful story. It teaches some great lessons that are especially important around Christmastime. I'm glad it's so prevalent in our culture, and I recommend the story to anyone who enjoys the movie adaptations.
Genre: fiction, fantasy
Publication info: Scholastic, 1962 (originally published in 1843)
Pages: 122
You are familiar with this story. I'm sure of it. You've definitely seen an adaptation of it, probably more than one. And there's a good chance you imagine Bob Cratchit as a frog. Okay, maybe not that last one, but my point is that A Christmas Carol is deeply entrenched in our Christmas traditions.
I think that's a good thing. A Christmas Carol is a great story. But I never got around to reading the actual story until just now.
As I've said with many books before, I'd been missing out. Although the story held few surprises for me in written form, I learned that Charles Dickens is a very clever and funny writer. That might seem obvious, but this is the first Dickens work I have read, so it was a delightful introduction for me.
As an example, you are probably familiar with the opening line: "Marley was dead, to begin with." The narrator goes on to really drive the point home that Marley was dead (otherwise his appearance as a ghost would have no significance). A few paragraphs down, he says that Marley was "dead as a doornail." Have you ever wondered what is so dead about a doornail? Well, this narrator wonders that for a while. The tangent he goes on has very little to do with the story, but it made me chuckle. I can tell that Dickens really knew his language.
It was also nice to read the original story so I can know how accurate the many adaptations are. I found that the Hallmark version with Patrick Stewart is very, very close (they even work in the rambling about the doornail). But other versions that you wouldn't think to be very accurate are closer than I thought. Even Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol uses a lot of lines verbatim from the story. Who would have thought?
A Christmas Carol is a delightful story. It teaches some great lessons that are especially important around Christmastime. I'm glad it's so prevalent in our culture, and I recommend the story to anyone who enjoys the movie adaptations.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
That Hideous Strength
A Modern Fairy-Tale for Grown-Ups
Part Three of the Space Trilogy
Author: C. S. Lewis
Genre: fiction, Christian fiction (sort of), science fiction (sort of)
Publication info: Macmillan, 1990 (originally published in 1946)
Pages: 382
This book has a quality that usually bothers me, and yet I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it a lot. The quality I speak of is a "message" that the author is trying to get across to the readers. In poorly written message stories, the message takes precedence over everything else—plot, character, general believability.
That Hideous Strength definitely has a message. But it is also definitely well written.
Although this book is labeled as the sequel to Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra, it is quite different from those two novels in several ways. For one thing, it revolves around two entirely new characters. Jane and Mark Studdock are recently married, but they already seem to be drifting apart. (In fact, there's only one scene in the entire novel that includes both of them together.) Mark is a don at the fictional Bracton College in Edgestow. The college is finalizing a deal to sell some precious, historical land to a corporation called National Institute of Coordinated Experiments (N.I.C.E.). Before he knows it, he's swept up into the very highest levels of the N.I.C.E. and helping it to achieve its mysterious but definitely sinister aims.
Jane, meanwhile, is suffering from vivid and disturbing dreams that seem to be accurately predicting the future. In her effort to find out what's going on, she finds herself associated with a small group who call themselves the Company, with our old friend Dr. Ransom at its head. The Company is a stronghold for good in England, and it's preparing to fight against the quickly growing evil spearheaded by none other than the N.I.C.E. In other words, Jane and Mark are on opposite sides of a battle in which the stakes are unimaginably high.
It's a compelling story, I think, and the writing is very polished. I guess that's why I liked it even though the messages are rather overt. One such message is one Lewis considered very important, according to his biography that I read earlier. Humans are naturally inclined to be a part of the "inner circle," an elite group that by definition includes only a few and excludes all the others. It is Mark's desire to be a part of the inner circle that gets him involved in all the evil schemes of the N.I.C.E. Jane, on the other hand, is also part of a small group, but this group has no desire to exclude anyone.
I knew going into this book that it wouldn't involve any space travel, unlike its predecessors, and because of that I was worried it would be a little dull. To my surprise, I think it is possibly the most exciting installment of the whole trilogy. Part of that is due to its compelling depiction of genuine evil. Some parts of the book really gave me the creeps because of how dark they were and also because of how plausible they seemed.
If you enjoy and respect the writing of C. S. Lewis, I highly recommend this book. You can even read it without having read the other two parts of the trilogy (Lewis said so himself). I probably should warn you, though, that this isn't a children's book. The climactic finish is surprisingly violent, and the book deals with some topics that children wouldn't appreciate. But the book has many lessons that I hope many adults will appreciate.
Part Three of the Space Trilogy
Author: C. S. Lewis
Genre: fiction, Christian fiction (sort of), science fiction (sort of)
Publication info: Macmillan, 1990 (originally published in 1946)
Pages: 382
This book has a quality that usually bothers me, and yet I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it a lot. The quality I speak of is a "message" that the author is trying to get across to the readers. In poorly written message stories, the message takes precedence over everything else—plot, character, general believability.
That Hideous Strength definitely has a message. But it is also definitely well written.
Although this book is labeled as the sequel to Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra, it is quite different from those two novels in several ways. For one thing, it revolves around two entirely new characters. Jane and Mark Studdock are recently married, but they already seem to be drifting apart. (In fact, there's only one scene in the entire novel that includes both of them together.) Mark is a don at the fictional Bracton College in Edgestow. The college is finalizing a deal to sell some precious, historical land to a corporation called National Institute of Coordinated Experiments (N.I.C.E.). Before he knows it, he's swept up into the very highest levels of the N.I.C.E. and helping it to achieve its mysterious but definitely sinister aims.
Jane, meanwhile, is suffering from vivid and disturbing dreams that seem to be accurately predicting the future. In her effort to find out what's going on, she finds herself associated with a small group who call themselves the Company, with our old friend Dr. Ransom at its head. The Company is a stronghold for good in England, and it's preparing to fight against the quickly growing evil spearheaded by none other than the N.I.C.E. In other words, Jane and Mark are on opposite sides of a battle in which the stakes are unimaginably high.
It's a compelling story, I think, and the writing is very polished. I guess that's why I liked it even though the messages are rather overt. One such message is one Lewis considered very important, according to his biography that I read earlier. Humans are naturally inclined to be a part of the "inner circle," an elite group that by definition includes only a few and excludes all the others. It is Mark's desire to be a part of the inner circle that gets him involved in all the evil schemes of the N.I.C.E. Jane, on the other hand, is also part of a small group, but this group has no desire to exclude anyone.
I knew going into this book that it wouldn't involve any space travel, unlike its predecessors, and because of that I was worried it would be a little dull. To my surprise, I think it is possibly the most exciting installment of the whole trilogy. Part of that is due to its compelling depiction of genuine evil. Some parts of the book really gave me the creeps because of how dark they were and also because of how plausible they seemed.
If you enjoy and respect the writing of C. S. Lewis, I highly recommend this book. You can even read it without having read the other two parts of the trilogy (Lewis said so himself). I probably should warn you, though, that this isn't a children's book. The climactic finish is surprisingly violent, and the book deals with some topics that children wouldn't appreciate. But the book has many lessons that I hope many adults will appreciate.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Tron: Betrayal
An Original Graphic Novel Prequel to Tron: Legacy
Author: Jai Nitz
Artists: Jeff Matsuda and Andie Tong
Genre: graphic novel, science fiction
Publication info: Disney Press, 2010
Pages: 127
Yes, I admit it: I went from a C. S. Lewis book to a graphic novel. But there is something you need to know about me. I am a total Tron geek. When my family got its first VCR years ago, for some reason the first thing we recorded from TV was Disney's original 1982 film. I grew up on that movie, watching it nearly every day as a kid (much to my parents' and sisters' chagrin).
I eventually grew out of that phase, but when I heard, about a year and a half ago, that Disney was making a sequel, all my Tron mania returned. Now I recognize how geeky (and sometimes even campy) the whole idea is, but I have never been more excited for a movie in my life, and I probably never will be again. I've learned to accept that. It's like being validated after all these years.
In just a few days, the wait will be over!
One unique aspect of this long-awaited sequel, Tron: Legacy, is the fact that it is so long-awaited. It has been 28 years. How do you connect two movies that are separated by so much time? Disney has found some creative ways to attack this problem. One is a set of video games that, rather than simply retelling the story of the movie (as so many film-based games do), take place in between the two movies and fill in the gaps. The other is this book, Tron: Betrayal.
The prologue of this book summarizes the events of the first movie, which shows Kevin Flynn's adventures in the computer world. The new story begins immediately afterwards. Flynn has become the CEO of tech giant Encom, Inc. He has also gotten married, and his wife is expecting a son (Sam, who will be the main character of the upcoming movie). And he has created a new computer system which he dubs Tron.
Always innovative, Flynn sets out to make it "the perfect system." He enlists the help of his old friend Tron to be in charge of security. And then he creates a program named Clu in his own likeness to keep things running smoothly. At first everything works great. Then the system starts spontaneously creating new programs, called isos, who choose their own names and run more or less independently. Flynn is excited about this development and its implication. Clu, on the other hand, has other ideas about how the system should be run.
I have to admit, it's actually a pretty interesting story. Now I want to make it clear that I have never been a fan of graphic novels. I probably would have preferred this prequel to be done in another form, but what could I do? Since I have no experience with this genre, I don't know if some of the things that bothered me were unique to this book or characteristic of graphic novels in general. Sometimes the story felt disjointed, with strangely abrupt scene changes. Sometimes it was hard to tell what was going on based on the pictures.
Overall, though, I enjoyed reading through this little book. The pictures are of very high quality. And most of all, I was glad to find out how the two movies are connected. I recommend this book to all Tron fans. I think it's a great preparation for the movie opening next week.
I can't tell you how excited I am for that.
Author: Jai Nitz
Artists: Jeff Matsuda and Andie Tong
Genre: graphic novel, science fiction
Publication info: Disney Press, 2010
Pages: 127
Yes, I admit it: I went from a C. S. Lewis book to a graphic novel. But there is something you need to know about me. I am a total Tron geek. When my family got its first VCR years ago, for some reason the first thing we recorded from TV was Disney's original 1982 film. I grew up on that movie, watching it nearly every day as a kid (much to my parents' and sisters' chagrin).
I eventually grew out of that phase, but when I heard, about a year and a half ago, that Disney was making a sequel, all my Tron mania returned. Now I recognize how geeky (and sometimes even campy) the whole idea is, but I have never been more excited for a movie in my life, and I probably never will be again. I've learned to accept that. It's like being validated after all these years.
In just a few days, the wait will be over!
One unique aspect of this long-awaited sequel, Tron: Legacy, is the fact that it is so long-awaited. It has been 28 years. How do you connect two movies that are separated by so much time? Disney has found some creative ways to attack this problem. One is a set of video games that, rather than simply retelling the story of the movie (as so many film-based games do), take place in between the two movies and fill in the gaps. The other is this book, Tron: Betrayal.
The prologue of this book summarizes the events of the first movie, which shows Kevin Flynn's adventures in the computer world. The new story begins immediately afterwards. Flynn has become the CEO of tech giant Encom, Inc. He has also gotten married, and his wife is expecting a son (Sam, who will be the main character of the upcoming movie). And he has created a new computer system which he dubs Tron.
Always innovative, Flynn sets out to make it "the perfect system." He enlists the help of his old friend Tron to be in charge of security. And then he creates a program named Clu in his own likeness to keep things running smoothly. At first everything works great. Then the system starts spontaneously creating new programs, called isos, who choose their own names and run more or less independently. Flynn is excited about this development and its implication. Clu, on the other hand, has other ideas about how the system should be run.
I have to admit, it's actually a pretty interesting story. Now I want to make it clear that I have never been a fan of graphic novels. I probably would have preferred this prequel to be done in another form, but what could I do? Since I have no experience with this genre, I don't know if some of the things that bothered me were unique to this book or characteristic of graphic novels in general. Sometimes the story felt disjointed, with strangely abrupt scene changes. Sometimes it was hard to tell what was going on based on the pictures.
Overall, though, I enjoyed reading through this little book. The pictures are of very high quality. And most of all, I was glad to find out how the two movies are connected. I recommend this book to all Tron fans. I think it's a great preparation for the movie opening next week.
I can't tell you how excited I am for that.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Perelandra
Part Two of the Space Trilogy
Author: C. S. Lewis
Genre: fiction, science fiction (sort of)
Publication info: Scribner Classics, 1996 (originally published in 1944)
Pages: 190
You probably know by now that I am a pretty big fan of C. S. Lewis. As such, I'm surprised it took me this long to get to this book. I read part one of the trilogy, Out of the Silent Planet, nearly ten years ago. I loved it, but when I tried to read this second installment, I had a hard time getting into it. With some prodding from my sister, I finally returned to this book.
The hero of this lesser-known series is Elwin Ransom, who in the first book traveled to Mars (Malacandra) and became acquainted with the eldila—mystical energy beings who are forces for good in the universe. Now that Ransom has returned home, the eldila have an assignment for him. He is to go to the young planet Perelandra, known to us as Venus.
Without knowing any details of his mission, Ransom travels to Perelandra, which he finds to be an utterly strange and beautiful place. Flexible islands float on a vast ocean, trees bear bubbles of water, and the night is totally dark. Soon he encounters a woman, the only woman in the world, much like Eve in our world. And, similar to what happened with Eve, a tempter arrives to disturb this paradisiacal world.
Like all of Lewis's fiction, Perelandra is heavily laden with Christian messages. I don't normally like when the message is more important than the story. But it turns out that this is also a pretty compelling story. He has excellent descriptions of a world totally foreign to our own. Some moments in the book are fairly intense and very fun to visualize.
As for the Christian teachings, once again Lewis gives you a lot to think about. It isn't always easy to understand, but much of it feels very true to life. For instance, his depiction of the devil is almost frighteningly realistic. Dr. Ransom also provides a great example of submitting to the will of God.
If you are a fan of C. S. Lewis, definitely don't miss this book. If you like Christian fiction and want something that will really make you think, you can't go wrong with this book. I understand that not everyone will like this type of book, but I for one am glad that I finally read it.
Author: C. S. Lewis
Genre: fiction, science fiction (sort of)
Publication info: Scribner Classics, 1996 (originally published in 1944)
Pages: 190
You probably know by now that I am a pretty big fan of C. S. Lewis. As such, I'm surprised it took me this long to get to this book. I read part one of the trilogy, Out of the Silent Planet, nearly ten years ago. I loved it, but when I tried to read this second installment, I had a hard time getting into it. With some prodding from my sister, I finally returned to this book.
The hero of this lesser-known series is Elwin Ransom, who in the first book traveled to Mars (Malacandra) and became acquainted with the eldila—mystical energy beings who are forces for good in the universe. Now that Ransom has returned home, the eldila have an assignment for him. He is to go to the young planet Perelandra, known to us as Venus.
Without knowing any details of his mission, Ransom travels to Perelandra, which he finds to be an utterly strange and beautiful place. Flexible islands float on a vast ocean, trees bear bubbles of water, and the night is totally dark. Soon he encounters a woman, the only woman in the world, much like Eve in our world. And, similar to what happened with Eve, a tempter arrives to disturb this paradisiacal world.
Like all of Lewis's fiction, Perelandra is heavily laden with Christian messages. I don't normally like when the message is more important than the story. But it turns out that this is also a pretty compelling story. He has excellent descriptions of a world totally foreign to our own. Some moments in the book are fairly intense and very fun to visualize.
As for the Christian teachings, once again Lewis gives you a lot to think about. It isn't always easy to understand, but much of it feels very true to life. For instance, his depiction of the devil is almost frighteningly realistic. Dr. Ransom also provides a great example of submitting to the will of God.
If you are a fan of C. S. Lewis, definitely don't miss this book. If you like Christian fiction and want something that will really make you think, you can't go wrong with this book. I understand that not everyone will like this type of book, but I for one am glad that I finally read it.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The Good Earth
Author: Pearl S. Buck
Genre: fiction
Publication info: Buccaneer Books (the one I read, anyway), 1931
Pages: 260
I'm lucky to have family and friends who love to read, and whose reading tastes are similar to mine. When I'm looking for a new book to read, I often rely on recommendations, and the books recommended to me turn out to be some of the books I enjoy the most.
Such was my experience with The Good Earth. I had heard of it, as I'm sure most people have, and I was vaguely aware that it is good, but it wasn't until it was specifically recommended to me that I finally got down to reading it. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. I knew early on that this wasn't like most books I've read, and it was hard to get used to at first, but pretty soon I came to enjoy it.
The Good Earth is the story of a poor Chinese farmer named Wang Lung. His story begins when he marries a woman who was a slave in the great house of Hwang. Although their relationship seems nothing more than cordial, the presence of O-lan (the wife) improves things vastly. Although there is a brief period of destitution, Wang Lung's family quickly rises from being poor farmers to being wealthy land owners.
What Wang Lung discovers is that the problems of the rich possibly outweigh the problems of the poor. At least that's what I got out of it. After reading about this man's life, I think I'd much rather be poor than obscenely rich. Wang Lung makes stupid mistakes, his sons bring him grief, and his relatives beg from him. At the end, though, there's no real reason to believe that Wang Lung has become a better person from all his trials.
It's an interesting book, a difficult one to describe. I would like to say I wish I'd read it sooner, but I'm not sure I would have appreciated it had I read it when I was younger. What's really fascinating about this book is the picture it gives of Chinese culture. It's quite a bit different from the one I know, but there definitely are values I could learn from it, especially family loyalty.
So my judgment is that The Good Earth. It's skilfully, sometimes even beautifully written, and its story is one you'll be likely to think about for a long time.
Genre: fiction
Publication info: Buccaneer Books (the one I read, anyway), 1931
Pages: 260
I'm lucky to have family and friends who love to read, and whose reading tastes are similar to mine. When I'm looking for a new book to read, I often rely on recommendations, and the books recommended to me turn out to be some of the books I enjoy the most.
Such was my experience with The Good Earth. I had heard of it, as I'm sure most people have, and I was vaguely aware that it is good, but it wasn't until it was specifically recommended to me that I finally got down to reading it. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. I knew early on that this wasn't like most books I've read, and it was hard to get used to at first, but pretty soon I came to enjoy it.
The Good Earth is the story of a poor Chinese farmer named Wang Lung. His story begins when he marries a woman who was a slave in the great house of Hwang. Although their relationship seems nothing more than cordial, the presence of O-lan (the wife) improves things vastly. Although there is a brief period of destitution, Wang Lung's family quickly rises from being poor farmers to being wealthy land owners.
What Wang Lung discovers is that the problems of the rich possibly outweigh the problems of the poor. At least that's what I got out of it. After reading about this man's life, I think I'd much rather be poor than obscenely rich. Wang Lung makes stupid mistakes, his sons bring him grief, and his relatives beg from him. At the end, though, there's no real reason to believe that Wang Lung has become a better person from all his trials.
It's an interesting book, a difficult one to describe. I would like to say I wish I'd read it sooner, but I'm not sure I would have appreciated it had I read it when I was younger. What's really fascinating about this book is the picture it gives of Chinese culture. It's quite a bit different from the one I know, but there definitely are values I could learn from it, especially family loyalty.
So my judgment is that The Good Earth. It's skilfully, sometimes even beautifully written, and its story is one you'll be likely to think about for a long time.
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