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.
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Saturday, December 22, 2012
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.
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.
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.
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, 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.
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.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Historian
Author: Elizabeth Kostova
Genre: fiction, mystery, horror
Publication info: Little, Brown, 2005
Pages: 642
Nerds have adventures too!
That's one thing I like about this book. When I was talking recently with a friend about The Historian, the best way I could describe it was as a "nerdy thriller." Unfortunately, I was only about halfway through at the time and had yet to discover that there really isn't much thrill after all. But nerds abound—all the major characters are serious academics who do some intense research. I guess I enjoy that because that's the way my career may take me, except I hope my research doesn't endanger my life as it does theirs.
The Historian centers on the legend of Dracula, who was a real person otherwise known as Vlad the Impaler, prince of Wallachia. When the unnamed narrator asks her father about a strange book she finds in his study, he reluctantly tells her of his quest to find Dracula's tomb and his missing dissertation adviser, Bartholomew Rossi. Professor Rossi, you see, had also been given a similar mysterious book, sending him on a quest to learn about Dracula and whether or not he is still alive—or better put, undead.
If you're confused by this description, that's because it's my best attempt to capture the multiple layers of the book. The bulk of the story is actually a story within a story, the narrator's father telling his tale. But included in that tale are other tales from other people, resulting in even more layers. I count all this as a fault in the book, because with all these stories within stories, the overall plot loses its immediacy. At times when I almost feel suspense, I remember that what I'm reading took place nearly twenty years before the time of the present story. I think the story could have been much more exciting if it was structured and presented in a different way.
The strengths of the book are its research and atmosphere. It's hard to tell where historical fact ends and fiction begins, and I enjoy that aspect. It has certainly motivated me to learn more about Vlad Dracula. I enjoy that the book treats Dracula and vampires in a way totally different from other literature and movies (including a currently popular series I won't name).
Atmosphere is a big part of the book. The author shows great skill in describing some breathtaking settings all across Europe. I especially enjoy the major segment of the story that takes place in Hungary, since I've been there myself. I love the visits to old libraries, archives, monasteries, and churches. They are fun places to be, and they are fun places to read about.
Overall, The Historian is pretty good, pretty interesting, but it falls short of being a really suspenseful, thrilling story. I feel bad for the publisher that bought the manuscript for two million dollars, thinking it had the next Da Vinci Code on its hands. I'm not saying Dan Brown is a great author, because he's not, but he's much better at suspense than Elizabeth Kostova is.
Still, you might want to give this book a try, especially if you're interested in Dracula and vampires (the dangerous kind, not the sparkly kind). You might enjoy it more than I did.
Genre: fiction, mystery, horror
Publication info: Little, Brown, 2005
Pages: 642
Nerds have adventures too!
That's one thing I like about this book. When I was talking recently with a friend about The Historian, the best way I could describe it was as a "nerdy thriller." Unfortunately, I was only about halfway through at the time and had yet to discover that there really isn't much thrill after all. But nerds abound—all the major characters are serious academics who do some intense research. I guess I enjoy that because that's the way my career may take me, except I hope my research doesn't endanger my life as it does theirs.
The Historian centers on the legend of Dracula, who was a real person otherwise known as Vlad the Impaler, prince of Wallachia. When the unnamed narrator asks her father about a strange book she finds in his study, he reluctantly tells her of his quest to find Dracula's tomb and his missing dissertation adviser, Bartholomew Rossi. Professor Rossi, you see, had also been given a similar mysterious book, sending him on a quest to learn about Dracula and whether or not he is still alive—or better put, undead.
If you're confused by this description, that's because it's my best attempt to capture the multiple layers of the book. The bulk of the story is actually a story within a story, the narrator's father telling his tale. But included in that tale are other tales from other people, resulting in even more layers. I count all this as a fault in the book, because with all these stories within stories, the overall plot loses its immediacy. At times when I almost feel suspense, I remember that what I'm reading took place nearly twenty years before the time of the present story. I think the story could have been much more exciting if it was structured and presented in a different way.
The strengths of the book are its research and atmosphere. It's hard to tell where historical fact ends and fiction begins, and I enjoy that aspect. It has certainly motivated me to learn more about Vlad Dracula. I enjoy that the book treats Dracula and vampires in a way totally different from other literature and movies (including a currently popular series I won't name).
Atmosphere is a big part of the book. The author shows great skill in describing some breathtaking settings all across Europe. I especially enjoy the major segment of the story that takes place in Hungary, since I've been there myself. I love the visits to old libraries, archives, monasteries, and churches. They are fun places to be, and they are fun places to read about.
Overall, The Historian is pretty good, pretty interesting, but it falls short of being a really suspenseful, thrilling story. I feel bad for the publisher that bought the manuscript for two million dollars, thinking it had the next Da Vinci Code on its hands. I'm not saying Dan Brown is a great author, because he's not, but he's much better at suspense than Elizabeth Kostova is.
Still, you might want to give this book a try, especially if you're interested in Dracula and vampires (the dangerous kind, not the sparkly kind). You might enjoy it more than I did.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The Hunger Games
Author: Suzanne Collins
Genre: fiction, young adult, post-apocalyptic
Publication info: Scholastic Press, 2008
Pages: 374
Amazing. Profound. Moving. These are all words I would not use to describe The Hunger Games.
I realize I'm probably going against the majority opinion here, but I just can't understand why this book is so popular. The most I can say for this book is that it's a page-turner, and even then, it didn't have me wanting to turn pages until well after the first hundred. Until that point, I was mostly just annoyed.
Why was I annoyed? Because the book's premise is based on a situation so implausible and simplistic that it was next to impossible for me to care about what happens to any of the characters. (On a side note, I just learned that this book is apparently a direct rip-off of Battle Royale by Koushun Takami, but since I haven't read the other book, I'll confine my criticism to what I know personally.) In a near-future North America that has been ravaged by war and natural disaster, the cleverly named Capitol exercises control over the twelve districts of Panem by requiring each of them them every year to send one boy and one girl to participate in the Hunger Games, a fight to the death broadcast on television.
Okay. Why would they do something so disgusting and evil? Because apparently in this dystopian world, nobody has any sense of morality whatsoever. Yep, the Capitol is just that bad. No further explanation needed. And everyone in the districts just rolls with it. They grumble, they groan, but they send their children year after year. And the children? Well, as evil as they see the Games to be, they jump right in and try to kill as many others as they can. Does anybody else see how absurd this is?
Katniss, the protagonist (another requirement for dystopian societies: stupid names), volunteers to go to the games when her little sister is chosen. This is great because you see Katniss as a rebel right from the beginning; she regularly hunts outside the boundaries of her district, a crime punishable by death. So you expect to see her fight against this brutal system, right? She doesn't. Oh, she does a few things here and there to "stick it to them," but they really don't do anything productive. Ultimately, she just goes along with it like everyone else, leaving you wondering why we're supposed to like her.
My other major gripe about this book is that Katniss is always spared from making difficult moral decisions. A good story has good characters that develop throughout the story, and they do so by making tough decisions. We learn about them through the decisions they make. But Katniss has the convenience of being in an arena where people get killed off right and left. Let me explain. Without giving too much away, let's suppose she makes a friend or ally during the Games. Cool; now we wonder what she is going to do about having to kill that person eventually. It's going to be a real test of character for Katniss. But no worries—someone else kills off that friend, so Katniss is spared that difficulty. This happens multiple times during the story, and in the end, we still have no idea whether Katniss has any kind of moral fiber.
The Games themselves are pretty fun and exciting to read about. I'll admit I stayed up rather late one night reading it. But every time the kids fought with each other, I wanted to scream at them, "Does nobody see how wrong this is? Is anybody going to do something about it?" I think the author wants us to believe that the characters are powerless against the system, but if that's the case, she does a lousy job of showing it. I just don't buy it!
I have a few other complaints about the writing style that I'll mention only briefly. The speech tags ("he says," etc.) are done rather poorly. There is too much unneeded description and too little needed description (how big is the arena, anyway?). Events that are supposed to be surprises are easy to predict.
Finally, the ending of the book is really weak. The author couldn't have made it any clearer that there is a sequel if she pinned you down and screamed it in your face. I understand that it's the law (apparently) to write books in a series, but that doesn't mean that each installment shouldn't be able to stand on its own as a story. The flat ending of The Hunger Games makes it impossible for this book to stand on its own. But you can bet that I am never going to read the rest of the series.
Genre: fiction, young adult, post-apocalyptic
Publication info: Scholastic Press, 2008
Pages: 374
Amazing. Profound. Moving. These are all words I would not use to describe The Hunger Games.
I realize I'm probably going against the majority opinion here, but I just can't understand why this book is so popular. The most I can say for this book is that it's a page-turner, and even then, it didn't have me wanting to turn pages until well after the first hundred. Until that point, I was mostly just annoyed.
Why was I annoyed? Because the book's premise is based on a situation so implausible and simplistic that it was next to impossible for me to care about what happens to any of the characters. (On a side note, I just learned that this book is apparently a direct rip-off of Battle Royale by Koushun Takami, but since I haven't read the other book, I'll confine my criticism to what I know personally.) In a near-future North America that has been ravaged by war and natural disaster, the cleverly named Capitol exercises control over the twelve districts of Panem by requiring each of them them every year to send one boy and one girl to participate in the Hunger Games, a fight to the death broadcast on television.
Okay. Why would they do something so disgusting and evil? Because apparently in this dystopian world, nobody has any sense of morality whatsoever. Yep, the Capitol is just that bad. No further explanation needed. And everyone in the districts just rolls with it. They grumble, they groan, but they send their children year after year. And the children? Well, as evil as they see the Games to be, they jump right in and try to kill as many others as they can. Does anybody else see how absurd this is?
Katniss, the protagonist (another requirement for dystopian societies: stupid names), volunteers to go to the games when her little sister is chosen. This is great because you see Katniss as a rebel right from the beginning; she regularly hunts outside the boundaries of her district, a crime punishable by death. So you expect to see her fight against this brutal system, right? She doesn't. Oh, she does a few things here and there to "stick it to them," but they really don't do anything productive. Ultimately, she just goes along with it like everyone else, leaving you wondering why we're supposed to like her.
My other major gripe about this book is that Katniss is always spared from making difficult moral decisions. A good story has good characters that develop throughout the story, and they do so by making tough decisions. We learn about them through the decisions they make. But Katniss has the convenience of being in an arena where people get killed off right and left. Let me explain. Without giving too much away, let's suppose she makes a friend or ally during the Games. Cool; now we wonder what she is going to do about having to kill that person eventually. It's going to be a real test of character for Katniss. But no worries—someone else kills off that friend, so Katniss is spared that difficulty. This happens multiple times during the story, and in the end, we still have no idea whether Katniss has any kind of moral fiber.
The Games themselves are pretty fun and exciting to read about. I'll admit I stayed up rather late one night reading it. But every time the kids fought with each other, I wanted to scream at them, "Does nobody see how wrong this is? Is anybody going to do something about it?" I think the author wants us to believe that the characters are powerless against the system, but if that's the case, she does a lousy job of showing it. I just don't buy it!
I have a few other complaints about the writing style that I'll mention only briefly. The speech tags ("he says," etc.) are done rather poorly. There is too much unneeded description and too little needed description (how big is the arena, anyway?). Events that are supposed to be surprises are easy to predict.
Finally, the ending of the book is really weak. The author couldn't have made it any clearer that there is a sequel if she pinned you down and screamed it in your face. I understand that it's the law (apparently) to write books in a series, but that doesn't mean that each installment shouldn't be able to stand on its own as a story. The flat ending of The Hunger Games makes it impossible for this book to stand on its own. But you can bet that I am never going to read the rest of the series.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Nine Stories
Author: J. D. Salinger
Genre: fiction, short stories
Publication info: Bantam, 1964 (originally published in 1953)
Pages: 198
J. D. Salinger is probably best known for his novel Catcher in the Rye, but this small collection of short stories is my first exposure to his work. Now I can see why he is considered one of the best authors of the twentieth century. These stories present aspects of life that are bizarre yet authentic—something that few authors can accomplish very well. And although most of these stories are quite tragic, they are also quite enjoyable to read.
But probably the thing I noticed most, and the thing I most appreciated, was the dialogue. Most of the stories in this collection are dialogue-heavy, but I didn't mind that at all because this is probably the best dialogue I have ever read. The characters interrupt each other, leave thoughts incomplete, and refer to situations that don't get fully explained. Have you ever read a story in which one character explains something to another character for no other reason than to explain it to the reader because both characters already know it? It's bad practice, and you won't see any of that in Salinger's writing. One of my favorite examples is in "A Perfect Day for Bananafish." Muriel is talking on the phone with her mother, who is concerned about Muriel's husband after "that incident with the trees." We never find out what that incident was, but we learn all we need to know about the husband's character from that simple reference. Salinger is simply artful with dialogue.
The downside is that the dialogue in these stories often includes a great deal of profanity. It's believable, but not necessarily pleasant. Potential readers be warned!
And speaking of not pleasant, none of these stories really have happy endings, if that's an important thing to you. Some of them end quite tragically, in fact. I for one enjoy that sort of thing, but not everyone does. I'm really glad this book of stories was recommended to me. If you're looking for some good literature that will make you think, this book is a good idea. You'll laugh (yes, some of it is really funny), you'll hurt, you'll wonder—all good things in literature.
Genre: fiction, short stories
Publication info: Bantam, 1964 (originally published in 1953)
Pages: 198
J. D. Salinger is probably best known for his novel Catcher in the Rye, but this small collection of short stories is my first exposure to his work. Now I can see why he is considered one of the best authors of the twentieth century. These stories present aspects of life that are bizarre yet authentic—something that few authors can accomplish very well. And although most of these stories are quite tragic, they are also quite enjoyable to read.
But probably the thing I noticed most, and the thing I most appreciated, was the dialogue. Most of the stories in this collection are dialogue-heavy, but I didn't mind that at all because this is probably the best dialogue I have ever read. The characters interrupt each other, leave thoughts incomplete, and refer to situations that don't get fully explained. Have you ever read a story in which one character explains something to another character for no other reason than to explain it to the reader because both characters already know it? It's bad practice, and you won't see any of that in Salinger's writing. One of my favorite examples is in "A Perfect Day for Bananafish." Muriel is talking on the phone with her mother, who is concerned about Muriel's husband after "that incident with the trees." We never find out what that incident was, but we learn all we need to know about the husband's character from that simple reference. Salinger is simply artful with dialogue.
The downside is that the dialogue in these stories often includes a great deal of profanity. It's believable, but not necessarily pleasant. Potential readers be warned!
And speaking of not pleasant, none of these stories really have happy endings, if that's an important thing to you. Some of them end quite tragically, in fact. I for one enjoy that sort of thing, but not everyone does. I'm really glad this book of stories was recommended to me. If you're looking for some good literature that will make you think, this book is a good idea. You'll laugh (yes, some of it is really funny), you'll hurt, you'll wonder—all good things in literature.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Everwild
Book 2 of the Skinjacker Trilogy
Author: Neal Shusterman
Genre: fiction, young adult, fantasy (sort of)
Publication info: Simon & Schuster, 2009
Pages: 424
For those of you keeping score at home, Everlost was the very first book I reviewed on this blog. I raved about it for its brilliance in depicting a world utterly bizarre and foreign and yet at the same time eerily familiar and believable.
A few months ago, I was surprised to come across Everwild, the sequel to Everlost, in the library. I didn't know there was gong to be a sequel. The ending to the first book certainly leaves open the possibility, but not the necessity, of a sequel. Being naturally wary of sequels, I was hesitant to check this book out, but since I loved the first one so much and wanted to return to the world of Everlost, the limbo world of dead children, I just couldn't help myself.
I loved this one too. Maybe this isn't the best-written book in the world or the most profound, but I just love being in the world these books describe.
Everwild begins a short time after the previous book ends. Nick, the newly dead kid from the first book, has embarked on a quest to help all Afterlights (inhabitants of Everlost) to "get where they are going"—in other words, to escape Everlost. But the power-hungry Mary Hightower is on a quest of her own to villify Nick and gain as many followers as she can. Nick soon realizes he will need to confront her, so he sets out to amass an army. And to do that, he'll need to go into the mysterious region of Everlost known as the Everwild.
Meanwhile, Allie, who died at the same time as Nick, is trying to find her family and see how they have been doing since her accident. She is developing her skills as a skinjacker, an Afterlight who can "borrow" the bodies of the living. But skinjacking soon becomes a dangerous obsession for her, leading her to discover a most surprising truth about herself.
I don't want to give too much away here, especially if you haven't read the first book. But I would just like to say that I enjoyed this book immensely, and I was actually pretty sad when it was over. I read it over a single weekend when I was sick, and at the end I thought maybe I had read it too fast. I just can't overemphasize how fun the whole idea is. Some parts had me laughing out loud. And yet while it's fun, it's also grim and eerie.
There are only two potential problems with this book that I can see. The first is that it features quite a bit of "teen angst"—love triangles and whatnot. You'd think Afterlights wouldn't be concerned about love, but they manage somehow. It's not terrible, though. I just wanted to point that out for people who might be bothered by it.
The other point is that whereas Everlost had a pretty satisfying conclusion, Everwild pretty much screams for a sequel. Now it's obvious on the cover that this is part two of a trilogy, so it should be no surprise, but still, it's going to be hard to wait for the third book to come out. It took three years for this one to come, so I might have to wait another couple years before I find out what happens to these Afterlights.
To anyone looking for an interesting and fun book to read, I recommend this series. Definitely read Everlost first, though. And if you have read Everlost and liked it, continue the adventure with Everwild. I'm sure you'll enjoy it as much as I did.
Author: Neal Shusterman
Genre: fiction, young adult, fantasy (sort of)
Publication info: Simon & Schuster, 2009
Pages: 424
For those of you keeping score at home, Everlost was the very first book I reviewed on this blog. I raved about it for its brilliance in depicting a world utterly bizarre and foreign and yet at the same time eerily familiar and believable.
A few months ago, I was surprised to come across Everwild, the sequel to Everlost, in the library. I didn't know there was gong to be a sequel. The ending to the first book certainly leaves open the possibility, but not the necessity, of a sequel. Being naturally wary of sequels, I was hesitant to check this book out, but since I loved the first one so much and wanted to return to the world of Everlost, the limbo world of dead children, I just couldn't help myself.
I loved this one too. Maybe this isn't the best-written book in the world or the most profound, but I just love being in the world these books describe.
Everwild begins a short time after the previous book ends. Nick, the newly dead kid from the first book, has embarked on a quest to help all Afterlights (inhabitants of Everlost) to "get where they are going"—in other words, to escape Everlost. But the power-hungry Mary Hightower is on a quest of her own to villify Nick and gain as many followers as she can. Nick soon realizes he will need to confront her, so he sets out to amass an army. And to do that, he'll need to go into the mysterious region of Everlost known as the Everwild.
Meanwhile, Allie, who died at the same time as Nick, is trying to find her family and see how they have been doing since her accident. She is developing her skills as a skinjacker, an Afterlight who can "borrow" the bodies of the living. But skinjacking soon becomes a dangerous obsession for her, leading her to discover a most surprising truth about herself.
I don't want to give too much away here, especially if you haven't read the first book. But I would just like to say that I enjoyed this book immensely, and I was actually pretty sad when it was over. I read it over a single weekend when I was sick, and at the end I thought maybe I had read it too fast. I just can't overemphasize how fun the whole idea is. Some parts had me laughing out loud. And yet while it's fun, it's also grim and eerie.
There are only two potential problems with this book that I can see. The first is that it features quite a bit of "teen angst"—love triangles and whatnot. You'd think Afterlights wouldn't be concerned about love, but they manage somehow. It's not terrible, though. I just wanted to point that out for people who might be bothered by it.
The other point is that whereas Everlost had a pretty satisfying conclusion, Everwild pretty much screams for a sequel. Now it's obvious on the cover that this is part two of a trilogy, so it should be no surprise, but still, it's going to be hard to wait for the third book to come out. It took three years for this one to come, so I might have to wait another couple years before I find out what happens to these Afterlights.
To anyone looking for an interesting and fun book to read, I recommend this series. Definitely read Everlost first, though. And if you have read Everlost and liked it, continue the adventure with Everwild. I'm sure you'll enjoy it as much as I did.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Foundling and Other Tales of Prydain
Author: Lloyd Alexander
Genre: fiction, fantasy
Publication info: Henry Holt, 2006 (originally published in 1970)
Pages: 98
Several years ago I enjoyed the marvelous fantasy series The Chronicles of Prydain. If you haven't yet discovered the series, which consists of five novels, I recommend them to you. They may remind you somewhat of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, but they have enough of their own unique elements—characters, story lines, and pieces of Welsh mythology—to make them a series worth reading.
If you have in fact read The Chronicles of Prydain, I recommend this book, The Foundling and Other Tales of Prydain. I didn't even know this book existed until earlier this year when I found it at a bargain book sale. Apparently Lloyd Alexander had other characters and stories he wanted to explore and explain.
In this collection of short stories, you find the tale of how Dallben came to be the great enchanter that he is, a cautionary tale of how the great sword Dyrnwyn must be handled, the tale of how Eilonwy's mother found her husband, and more. There are eight stories in all, so in a 98-page book, each is pretty short, but each one manages to capture your imagination. At least they captured mine. They are told much like folk tales (with lines such as "This is the tale of . . . And this is how it begins."). Some of them are surprisingly deep for how short they are, especially the story of the sword.
It has been a while since I have read the novels of Prydain (which happens to be the Welsh word for Britain), so I don't remember a lot of the details, but I still very much enjoyed this book. Reading these stories brought me back to that fantasy world I loved. I've said before that I'm not much for fantasy most of the time, but The Chronicles of Prydain, including The Foundling, are a great exception to my rule. I hope you enjoy these books too.
Genre: fiction, fantasy
Publication info: Henry Holt, 2006 (originally published in 1970)
Pages: 98
Several years ago I enjoyed the marvelous fantasy series The Chronicles of Prydain. If you haven't yet discovered the series, which consists of five novels, I recommend them to you. They may remind you somewhat of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, but they have enough of their own unique elements—characters, story lines, and pieces of Welsh mythology—to make them a series worth reading.
If you have in fact read The Chronicles of Prydain, I recommend this book, The Foundling and Other Tales of Prydain. I didn't even know this book existed until earlier this year when I found it at a bargain book sale. Apparently Lloyd Alexander had other characters and stories he wanted to explore and explain.
In this collection of short stories, you find the tale of how Dallben came to be the great enchanter that he is, a cautionary tale of how the great sword Dyrnwyn must be handled, the tale of how Eilonwy's mother found her husband, and more. There are eight stories in all, so in a 98-page book, each is pretty short, but each one manages to capture your imagination. At least they captured mine. They are told much like folk tales (with lines such as "This is the tale of . . . And this is how it begins."). Some of them are surprisingly deep for how short they are, especially the story of the sword.
It has been a while since I have read the novels of Prydain (which happens to be the Welsh word for Britain), so I don't remember a lot of the details, but I still very much enjoyed this book. Reading these stories brought me back to that fantasy world I loved. I've said before that I'm not much for fantasy most of the time, but The Chronicles of Prydain, including The Foundling, are a great exception to my rule. I hope you enjoy these books too.
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