Well, for my Wizards class we had to finish Pawn of Prophecy by David Eddings. There was half a test on it on Wednesday (which Marky Mark probably warned us about but I obviously wasn't paying attention) which I probably got a .007 on. Which is still kind of cool because, I mean, I got a James Bond on a test. Haha, you might even say I James bombed that test! HAHAHAHAHAHA oh God, I'm too much. Really, I am. Seriously. Anyway, the second part of the test, the essay, is tomorrow, so I figured that maybe doing my little blog post about it would help.
Well, let's see. This is your basic main character is a child of prophecy to stop something evil and it turns out his caretaker knows and stuff and can use magic and then they go on a quest. Also, the kid is actually a young David Bowie. http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/515R415NG1L.jpg Actually, to sum up the whole story--you've seen the movie Labyrinth starring David Bowie, right? Well, this is kind of a prequel. You see, David Bowie--Jareth--is set to destroy the original goblin king, Torak, but it's revealed--at the end of the series, of course--that to kill him you automatically take his spot. You kind of... inherit his mantle, if you will. So, unwillingly he takes his throne, and the epilogue is x years later, and an introduction to the cult movie.
Guys. Guys. Did you believe all that? I'm kidding. Did I actually fool you? It's more convincing when I do it in person. I've mastered Jedi mind control, you know? This isn't the blog you're looking for. No, no! Just kidding! This is the blog you're looking for! And the one you recommend to all your friends, because it is so freaking awesome.
What it's actually about--well, all that stuff before I said Garion is a young David Bowie is pretty much true. But you have to admit, he's a dead ringer for Bowie, no? There's a brief introduction about the gods, namely the 'evil' god, Torak. At the beginning of time (or some time close to that) he stole and abused the Orb of power, and it melted down half his face. Like Two-Face. Anyway, he wants his glory and power and stuff back, so he's going to try and reclaim it at some point after this first book (I wasn't lying about it being a series, either). And... there are certain people who can use the globe without their faces getting boiled and they have a special birthmark which--surprise surprise!--Garion has.
First of all, this dedication is very sweet. "For Theone, who told me stories but could not stay for mine" (I).
"'Who's to say what's only a story and what's truth disguised as a story?'" (33).
"'That's impossible,' Garion said. 'Is it? How old are you?' 'Nine--next Erastide.' 'And in nine years you've learned everything that's both possible and impossible? You're a remarkable boy, Garion'" (33). How Jane Austen of you, David Eddings! Haha.
Oh, and I just want to throw a spoiler in here. The person who admonished Garion in the last quote is Mister Wolf. Garion is taken care of by his 'aunt', Pol. Now, midway through the book it is revealed that Mister Wolf is Aunt Pol's father--a fact that sent me reeling completely. There's definitely tension between her and Wolf, but it's sexual tension. Seriously, you do not get the feeling they're father and daughter at all. Just thought I'd bring that up.
"Zubrette, of course, did not grow so tall, but she developed in other ways which the boys began to find very interesting" (48). HAHAHA. Eddings has little hilarious asides all the time, and they're almost always this kind of humor. Humor is quite rare in fantasy books, apparently, as the creator usually takes their made-up world rather seriously, but Eddings seems to be a little looser with it. I'm sure he takes his made-up world seriously, just not to the point of letting it be stiff. Though, Marky Mark has said after a while the humor of the Pawn of Prophecy's series gets tiresome, because it's that same basic type. Well, I only read the first book so whatever.
"Barak pulled off his tunic. His torso was enormous and covered with thick red hair. 'You look like a rug,' Silk observed. 'I can't help that,' Barak said. 'Winters are cold in Cherek, and the hair helps me stay warm'... 'Are you absolutely sure your grandmother didn't dally with a bear during one of those long winters?'" (84). Again, I literally burst out laughing.
"'They have a stern and demanding God,' Wolf replied. 'Which God is that?' Garion asked. 'Money,' Wolf said. 'Money's a worse God than Torak himself'" (90). This reminds me of Neil Gaiman's book American Gods. Certainly there was a god dedicated to money in the book, but I don't remember s/he or it clearly. However, this makes me think of when Shadow is talking to the god/dess of television. S/he says that people make sacrifices to him/her all the time, though they're not traditional sacrifices, and Shadow asks what they are. She responds with "'Their time, mostly... sometimes each other'" (American Gods, 175).
"'I didn't go to all the trouble of raising you to have you end up dead in a gutter'" (125). Wow, Aunt Pol, that's a little... well, it's no wonder you haven't gotten married or had kids of you're own. You're a little blunt, aren't you?
On page 176 of this edition of the book (which I assume is the most recent edition of the book; in any case it is the one with the cover I provided the link to) there is a map of Cherek. Now, who here has played the first Final Fantasy? Well, in it you have to blow up a land mass to get out of a landlocked sea. The thing you blow up is near the arrow pointing to the Lifespring Grotto--though in this the piece you must destroy is already gone. Rest assured, the maps are ridiculously similar (though the almost landlocked sea that borders Cherek's innards is much smaller).
Well.... Yeah. I guess I don't have a lot of insight on this, which is why I'm going to fail the test on it tomorrow. Hooray, I love having to take finals! It's a pretty good book. I'm thinking I'd like it more if I was ten or eleven, but then again, I wouldn't understand Eddings's fourteen-year-old boy humor if I had read it then... Anyway, I would be interested in reading the rest of the series, but I won't actively pursue it. If it came into my possession by chance, or if I happened to find it on sale or something, I'd get it, but I'm not going to go crazy over trying to find it.
Let's see, yesterday I happened to be weeding through lots of crappy fantasy and sci-fi books. One that I looked over (though I now regret, because on reflection, I seriously want to know what the hell it was about) had on the cover a huge spaceship with a bit of a grassy hill in the foreground. There was a man on the hill, too. It was a Roman hoplite yelling as if he was about to attack and similarly poised as if about to do so. I wonder what that book was about. I really do.
PS. On one of the pages I took notes for the book on, I accidentally referred to the book as 'Prawn of Prophecy'. Hence, the blog title.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
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Wednesday, April 28, 2010
These are crazy days
My most recent acquisition has been If on a winter's night a traveler by Italo Calvino. I have not capitalized the words that should be so because they never appear that way when the title is cited in the book itself. Hence, I don't feel obliged to? Though it bothers me like hell. But if Calvino isn't going to bother doing it himself, well!
The book is about... well, it's about two things. It is a collection of many short stories, all which give you a perfunctory taste of them, bound together by a back narrative of you, 'Reader', who simply wants to finish one of the novels, but is constantly being given snippets of false manuscripts, each intriguing, till the search is really no longer for 'If on a winter's night a traveler' (the first 'manuscript') it is for 'Around an empty grave or 'In a network of lines that enlace' or even 'Without fear of wind or vertigo'. You see? Anyway, what makes the book so notable is the fact that it uses as successfully as really is possible the third person narrative, that as opposed to saying "I did it" or "Sam did it" or whatever, it's "you did it". And for the most part, it never breaks that narrative, though it does sometimes, but cut him some slack--could you write a book like that? Maybe if you're in MENSA (incidentally, I borrowed this from Marky Mark). It's a really difficult style to write in. He also switches to Ludmilla's view (the female protagonist, the 'Other Reader') in the same style, which is kind of cool. Especially for female readers who may not be as drawn in, because it's fairly clear the 'Reader' is intended male.
It was an interesting book, in said style and for other reasons. It was intriguing, though it was predictable--not the stories themselves (which escalated in weirdness to almost the very last one) but the fact that oh, well, he's not going to finish the thing and he's going to get something new, damn it. So my mind started to stop being as invested in the interludes, because you know, what's the point? But that's not to say the interludes weren't good in themselves. Yes, they could have fit into something larger, but they worked well as their own short stories. There's only one or two I have real problems with.
I know you've been hearing this a lot from me lately, but I love the opening. Not necessarily the opening line, but that first bit--it's not quite a prologue, but it's not exactly what I'd call the first chapter, even though it is labeled as such... "You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler. Relax. Concentrate. Dispel every other thought. Let the world around you fade. Best to close the door; the TV is always on in the next room. Tell the others right away, 'No, I don't want to watch TV!' Raise your voice--they won't hear you otherwise--'I'm reading! I don't want to be disturbed!' Maybe they haven't heard you, with all that racket; speak louder, yell: 'I'm beginning to read Italo Calvino's new novel!' Or if you prefer, don't say anything; just hope they'll leave you alone" (3). Of course, this bit goes on for several pages (about six), telling you how you are, and honestly you're believing it, and sort of guiding you clearly in your mind, if not actually physically making you do what it suggests--that is, stretching out, making sure you have your cigarettes nearby, and so on. But it's probably one of the quickest ways to get someone involved in the text, of course, like was said, one of the hardest ways to work.
In the second chapter, an item I assume is a juke box is referred to as a "vibrant silence-killing machine" (12). Which is a very pretty turn of phrase, there.
"'Between Ozkarts and Kauderers peace lasts only from one funeral to the next, and the hatchet is not buried, but our dead are buried and we write on their graves: This was the Ozkarts' doing'" (40).
Oh, and I guess I should mention this, though I can't recall if it has arisen in the text, and I didn't bother marking it since it seemed obvious to me, though of course it's not obvious to everyone. The author is clearly Italian, and the book was translated from Italian. Often he mentions something like 'she spoke with the informal tu' or some such. Though I hated Italian class and managed a C average all three years and remember little more than how to say hotel (albergo), I do remember this. There are several forms of the word you, as in, you all, you all formal, you formal, you informal. (I believe this phenomena also exists in Spanish, and any other Latin-based language, I'd assume.) I can't remember what formal 'you' is, but informal is tu. Which would be the 'you' you use around friends and family, so when this lady (and other ladies, it tends to always be the women in this book) uses it when they meet for the first time it's kind of--not shocking, but strange. So. Yeah. In case you were wondering or planning on reading this...
"'...I wish the things I read weren't all present, so solid you can touch them; I would like to feel a presence around them, something else, you don't quite know what, the sign of some unknown thing...'" (46). Well, who likes a book about the contemporary anyway? Something new is much better than a dull recounting of what you know (though, fairly, I suppose there are those who much prefer and go searching for those books because unfortunately, they do exist). And I suppose yes, some books that I favor were contemporary at some point, but even so there's something unusual or different, even though at first glance or read it doesn't seem to be so fantastical. The best example hails from someone I am not as likely to favor, however... If I may step out onto a weak branch, I'm going to throw the baton to Charles Dickens--my brief consumption of his works and rudimentary knowledge of said works leads me to believe that a good portion of his writings relate to impoverished children/people. Well, okay, contemporary because there certainly were a lot of folks like that and still continue to be--but even so, there's a lot of ingredients that keep them from being a dull recounting of the times. I have in mind Great Expectations, by the way. I hate to go into it now, so surely you can google a synopsis or read it. (LOOK EMMA I'M RECOMMENDING CHARLES DICKENS.) That certainly was an oddity of events of contemporary times but with roots still in what was most likely a common situation--if you see what I mean? Maybe? Emma will have to check me on this one. Though even if I'm wrong it proves I respect him, even if him and I duke it out on a regular basis.
"'Me? I don't read books!' Irnerio says. 'What do you read, then?' 'Nothing. I've become so accustomed to not reading that I don't even read what appears before my eyes. It's not easy: they teach us to read as children, and for the rest of our lives we remain the slaves of all the written stuff they fling in front of us. I may have had to make some effort myself, at first, to learn not to read, but now it comes quite naturally to me. The secret is not refusing to look at the written words. On the contrary, you must look at them, intensely, until they disappear'" (49). Look me in the eye and tell me this doesn't look like it belongs in Catch-22. There's a scene later, very surreal, (which I didn't mark) where the Reader attempts to pull of a woman's clothes several times only to discover another layer beneath each previous layer. Eventually, he manages to get to the last set of clothes, and reveals her almost completely nude body. He says something like 'you wear so many uniforms, but you're naked now!' and she responds with something along the lines of 'No, this body is a uniform as well'. Well, whatever, my point is that she sounds very much like Julia from 1984. So... just thought I'd bring that up...
My favorite interlude is the 'excerpt' from Leaning from the steep slope. It tells of a convict trying to escape his prison (and eventually doing so) while circling a lady of the seaside town where his prison resides. I suppose it could be argued, maybe, that Calvino included such a broad array of stories not only to frustrate the Reader and of course move the story along and be the whole rudder to the story in the first place, but in the hopes of including at least one that leaves the actual reader of the story the you you, not the Reader you--the other you--intrigued and wanting to read on, though of course you can. So in some degree you can relate to the other Reader you. Leaning from the steep slope is the one I'd want nothing more than to read in its fictional completion.
"I took this dialogue as a warning to be on guard: the world is falling apart and tries to lure me into its disintegration" (64).
I hated Looks down in the gathering shadow. It's set in France, and a man and a woman are attempting to dispose of a body. That I followed rather well, I mean, that's pretty straightforward. Then, two-thirds of the way through, the main character of the story starts talking about how his daughter was a dancer who dances (or possibly has sex) with crocodiles. And then a kid has a tub of crocodiles and then the body of the dead man is gone. What.
"I would like to be able to write a book that is only an incipit, that maintains for its whole duration the potentiality of the beginning, the expectation still not focused on an object. But how could such a book be constructed? Would it break off after the first paragraph? Would the preliminaries be prolonged indefinitely? Would it set the beginning of one tale inside another, as in the Arabian Nights?" (177). Oh, Italo Calvino, I see what you did there. (Because this very book is essentially a little bit of--all of that, in a way.)
"His head is oblong horizontally, like a dirigible, and seems to hide many things behind the convexity of its brow" (180). I literally laughed out loud when I read this.
On the carpet of leaves illuminated by the moon was another interlude that was just strange. I followed it easily enough, you'd have to be a fool not to follow this one successfully, but it was really weird. So this guy goes to live and work for a Japanese fellow (in Japan) and starts feeling... amorous towards his daughter. Then, he has sex with the Japanese fellow's wife, while both the daughter and the Japanese fellow come into the room and watch. That's not even the weirdest part--it was like a bad fanfiction. The sex part, I mean. Even Stephen King knows when to cut it off. I got a little put off with what transpired sexually. And by a little, I mean, I was weirded out like it was nobody's business.
Well, apparently I forgot to mark my favorite part, or accidentally pulled its marker out. It any case, my favorite scene happens relatively early on in which Ludmilla gets agitated by a book club trying to figure out the deeper meanings of the text, the metaphors, the allusions and so on--and she says something like, 'I could care less for all of that, I just want to read the book!' Though sometimes it is--dare I say it--rather fun to delve into and pursue that kind of thing, most of the time I have that attitude as well. I'd rather just enjoy the thing, okay? If it's necessary to know to understand the book, sure I'll sit through it, but come on, don't grate me here. Then, of course, on the other hand, there are books--actually only one--that I've wanted to read because I know about its symbols and metaphors, and those are what hooked me. The book in question is Ulysses by James Joyce. The whole book is--as I understand it--a 'modern-day' (well, modern in the terms of the last century) retelling of The Odyssey. Marky Mark sort of got into what symbolized what else between the two texts and I fell in love. But... of course, that may as well be the exception that makes the rule, there. I probably would have read it anyway, because what a cool name, but I probably wouldn't enjoy it in the same way--you know? If I even enjoy it the first time I do read it with knowing what I know... uh... wow. Where exactly did my topic go? Anyone? Help?
So, yes. Let's see, I guess I'm done there. The only news-worthy things are that... Well, I'm officially going to college, as in, I have a dorm and all that jazz. Yayyy. And, I found a 1910 copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray that's actually in rather lovely condition. So... Yup.
The book is about... well, it's about two things. It is a collection of many short stories, all which give you a perfunctory taste of them, bound together by a back narrative of you, 'Reader', who simply wants to finish one of the novels, but is constantly being given snippets of false manuscripts, each intriguing, till the search is really no longer for 'If on a winter's night a traveler' (the first 'manuscript') it is for 'Around an empty grave or 'In a network of lines that enlace' or even 'Without fear of wind or vertigo'. You see? Anyway, what makes the book so notable is the fact that it uses as successfully as really is possible the third person narrative, that as opposed to saying "I did it" or "Sam did it" or whatever, it's "you did it". And for the most part, it never breaks that narrative, though it does sometimes, but cut him some slack--could you write a book like that? Maybe if you're in MENSA (incidentally, I borrowed this from Marky Mark). It's a really difficult style to write in. He also switches to Ludmilla's view (the female protagonist, the 'Other Reader') in the same style, which is kind of cool. Especially for female readers who may not be as drawn in, because it's fairly clear the 'Reader' is intended male.
It was an interesting book, in said style and for other reasons. It was intriguing, though it was predictable--not the stories themselves (which escalated in weirdness to almost the very last one) but the fact that oh, well, he's not going to finish the thing and he's going to get something new, damn it. So my mind started to stop being as invested in the interludes, because you know, what's the point? But that's not to say the interludes weren't good in themselves. Yes, they could have fit into something larger, but they worked well as their own short stories. There's only one or two I have real problems with.
I know you've been hearing this a lot from me lately, but I love the opening. Not necessarily the opening line, but that first bit--it's not quite a prologue, but it's not exactly what I'd call the first chapter, even though it is labeled as such... "You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler. Relax. Concentrate. Dispel every other thought. Let the world around you fade. Best to close the door; the TV is always on in the next room. Tell the others right away, 'No, I don't want to watch TV!' Raise your voice--they won't hear you otherwise--'I'm reading! I don't want to be disturbed!' Maybe they haven't heard you, with all that racket; speak louder, yell: 'I'm beginning to read Italo Calvino's new novel!' Or if you prefer, don't say anything; just hope they'll leave you alone" (3). Of course, this bit goes on for several pages (about six), telling you how you are, and honestly you're believing it, and sort of guiding you clearly in your mind, if not actually physically making you do what it suggests--that is, stretching out, making sure you have your cigarettes nearby, and so on. But it's probably one of the quickest ways to get someone involved in the text, of course, like was said, one of the hardest ways to work.
In the second chapter, an item I assume is a juke box is referred to as a "vibrant silence-killing machine" (12). Which is a very pretty turn of phrase, there.
"'Between Ozkarts and Kauderers peace lasts only from one funeral to the next, and the hatchet is not buried, but our dead are buried and we write on their graves: This was the Ozkarts' doing'" (40).
Oh, and I guess I should mention this, though I can't recall if it has arisen in the text, and I didn't bother marking it since it seemed obvious to me, though of course it's not obvious to everyone. The author is clearly Italian, and the book was translated from Italian. Often he mentions something like 'she spoke with the informal tu' or some such. Though I hated Italian class and managed a C average all three years and remember little more than how to say hotel (albergo), I do remember this. There are several forms of the word you, as in, you all, you all formal, you formal, you informal. (I believe this phenomena also exists in Spanish, and any other Latin-based language, I'd assume.) I can't remember what formal 'you' is, but informal is tu. Which would be the 'you' you use around friends and family, so when this lady (and other ladies, it tends to always be the women in this book) uses it when they meet for the first time it's kind of--not shocking, but strange. So. Yeah. In case you were wondering or planning on reading this...
"'...I wish the things I read weren't all present, so solid you can touch them; I would like to feel a presence around them, something else, you don't quite know what, the sign of some unknown thing...'" (46). Well, who likes a book about the contemporary anyway? Something new is much better than a dull recounting of what you know (though, fairly, I suppose there are those who much prefer and go searching for those books because unfortunately, they do exist). And I suppose yes, some books that I favor were contemporary at some point, but even so there's something unusual or different, even though at first glance or read it doesn't seem to be so fantastical. The best example hails from someone I am not as likely to favor, however... If I may step out onto a weak branch, I'm going to throw the baton to Charles Dickens--my brief consumption of his works and rudimentary knowledge of said works leads me to believe that a good portion of his writings relate to impoverished children/people. Well, okay, contemporary because there certainly were a lot of folks like that and still continue to be--but even so, there's a lot of ingredients that keep them from being a dull recounting of the times. I have in mind Great Expectations, by the way. I hate to go into it now, so surely you can google a synopsis or read it. (LOOK EMMA I'M RECOMMENDING CHARLES DICKENS.) That certainly was an oddity of events of contemporary times but with roots still in what was most likely a common situation--if you see what I mean? Maybe? Emma will have to check me on this one. Though even if I'm wrong it proves I respect him, even if him and I duke it out on a regular basis.
"'Me? I don't read books!' Irnerio says. 'What do you read, then?' 'Nothing. I've become so accustomed to not reading that I don't even read what appears before my eyes. It's not easy: they teach us to read as children, and for the rest of our lives we remain the slaves of all the written stuff they fling in front of us. I may have had to make some effort myself, at first, to learn not to read, but now it comes quite naturally to me. The secret is not refusing to look at the written words. On the contrary, you must look at them, intensely, until they disappear'" (49). Look me in the eye and tell me this doesn't look like it belongs in Catch-22. There's a scene later, very surreal, (which I didn't mark) where the Reader attempts to pull of a woman's clothes several times only to discover another layer beneath each previous layer. Eventually, he manages to get to the last set of clothes, and reveals her almost completely nude body. He says something like 'you wear so many uniforms, but you're naked now!' and she responds with something along the lines of 'No, this body is a uniform as well'. Well, whatever, my point is that she sounds very much like Julia from 1984. So... just thought I'd bring that up...
My favorite interlude is the 'excerpt' from Leaning from the steep slope. It tells of a convict trying to escape his prison (and eventually doing so) while circling a lady of the seaside town where his prison resides. I suppose it could be argued, maybe, that Calvino included such a broad array of stories not only to frustrate the Reader and of course move the story along and be the whole rudder to the story in the first place, but in the hopes of including at least one that leaves the actual reader of the story the you you, not the Reader you--the other you--intrigued and wanting to read on, though of course you can. So in some degree you can relate to the other Reader you. Leaning from the steep slope is the one I'd want nothing more than to read in its fictional completion.
"I took this dialogue as a warning to be on guard: the world is falling apart and tries to lure me into its disintegration" (64).
I hated Looks down in the gathering shadow. It's set in France, and a man and a woman are attempting to dispose of a body. That I followed rather well, I mean, that's pretty straightforward. Then, two-thirds of the way through, the main character of the story starts talking about how his daughter was a dancer who dances (or possibly has sex) with crocodiles. And then a kid has a tub of crocodiles and then the body of the dead man is gone. What.
"I would like to be able to write a book that is only an incipit, that maintains for its whole duration the potentiality of the beginning, the expectation still not focused on an object. But how could such a book be constructed? Would it break off after the first paragraph? Would the preliminaries be prolonged indefinitely? Would it set the beginning of one tale inside another, as in the Arabian Nights?" (177). Oh, Italo Calvino, I see what you did there. (Because this very book is essentially a little bit of--all of that, in a way.)
"His head is oblong horizontally, like a dirigible, and seems to hide many things behind the convexity of its brow" (180). I literally laughed out loud when I read this.
On the carpet of leaves illuminated by the moon was another interlude that was just strange. I followed it easily enough, you'd have to be a fool not to follow this one successfully, but it was really weird. So this guy goes to live and work for a Japanese fellow (in Japan) and starts feeling... amorous towards his daughter. Then, he has sex with the Japanese fellow's wife, while both the daughter and the Japanese fellow come into the room and watch. That's not even the weirdest part--it was like a bad fanfiction. The sex part, I mean. Even Stephen King knows when to cut it off. I got a little put off with what transpired sexually. And by a little, I mean, I was weirded out like it was nobody's business.
Well, apparently I forgot to mark my favorite part, or accidentally pulled its marker out. It any case, my favorite scene happens relatively early on in which Ludmilla gets agitated by a book club trying to figure out the deeper meanings of the text, the metaphors, the allusions and so on--and she says something like, 'I could care less for all of that, I just want to read the book!' Though sometimes it is--dare I say it--rather fun to delve into and pursue that kind of thing, most of the time I have that attitude as well. I'd rather just enjoy the thing, okay? If it's necessary to know to understand the book, sure I'll sit through it, but come on, don't grate me here. Then, of course, on the other hand, there are books--actually only one--that I've wanted to read because I know about its symbols and metaphors, and those are what hooked me. The book in question is Ulysses by James Joyce. The whole book is--as I understand it--a 'modern-day' (well, modern in the terms of the last century) retelling of The Odyssey. Marky Mark sort of got into what symbolized what else between the two texts and I fell in love. But... of course, that may as well be the exception that makes the rule, there. I probably would have read it anyway, because what a cool name, but I probably wouldn't enjoy it in the same way--you know? If I even enjoy it the first time I do read it with knowing what I know... uh... wow. Where exactly did my topic go? Anyone? Help?
So, yes. Let's see, I guess I'm done there. The only news-worthy things are that... Well, I'm officially going to college, as in, I have a dorm and all that jazz. Yayyy. And, I found a 1910 copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray that's actually in rather lovely condition. So... Yup.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Leave! Now! And never come back!
Well, I have officially completed my waltz with Lord of the Rings. It... has... finished! Wait, wait. Before I start on how in love I am with this series, I need to curb my excitement to share my excitement about the other cool thing that happened to me today: well, I was at an estate sale and happened to pick up my cousins' old copy of Slaughterhouse-Five from '78. Nelson even wrote in it a little, providing illuminations such as "[My sister] is a turd". Oh, you! Anyway, it's... it's pretty cool... because it's not all generic-like, like basically all the buyable (new) Vonnegut books are now... so... yeahhh.
Yeah, but, back to that waltz and all. (Where did that even come from?) Oh wow. Oh wow, yes, it was incredible. I'd be lying if I said I believed the third book to be as good as the first two (I have to say, I believe The Two Towers is my favorite) but that hardly matters because oh my God this series. I was practically jumping out of my skin to finish the book (and likewise, I am so to finish this post) so yes, I'd see the end--but also, to put it in the Classics* shelf. Let's goooo!
Again, I feel no need to summarize or reiterate why there's no real need to summarize, or shouldn't be. Come on, even I had seen the movies! And I'm pretty sure that, before the events of the last month or so, I was the only person on this entire planet who had never read the trilogy.
"And upon its thrust-out knee was the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone so strong and old that it seemed to have not been builded but carven by giants out of the bones of the earth" (8). Ignore the fact that 'builded' looks weird--Tolkien purposely writes to sound archaic, and built is probably just the more modern rendition of the word (sounds Tudor, if you ask me...) Why I quote it is because I just really like that phrasing--"bones of the earth". It sounds so cool!
"'Which question shall I answer first?' said Pippin. 'My father farms the lands round Whitwell near Tuckburough in the Shire. I am nearly twenty-nine, so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow any more, save sideways'" (29). I know, you're sick of me saying it, but the hobbits are just too adorably awesome. Can I please just marry all of them. No, it wasn't really a question... it's happening.
"'Where will wants not, a way opens, so we say'" (70). Again, that whole Tolkien is making up--or in this case creating a root--of sayings thing. Of course, in this case, it'd be the root to "Where there's a will, there's a way". I think.
"'But in desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death'" (80). I feel like this, in some respect, sort of shows Denethor's corruption, or confusion, for he is not completely evil, but he's very... muddled. Denethor is Boromir and Faramir's father. But what I mean is, well, you know how Boromir attempted to take the Ring? A few paragraphs later, Denethor says to Faramir that he wished Faramir had died in Boromir's stead which is pretty bad to begin with, and then he goes on to say that Boromir would have "remembered his father's need" and brought him a "mighty gift" (80; both). Of course, the Ring. Which is also pretty bad. But going back to that first quote... Back in the medieval days, honor was your god. You never struck an unarmed enemy, you never struck at the back, you never took advantage in 'cowardly' blows, et cetera. If I'm correct (we'll see what Marky Mark has to say on all of this) then we can equate this sort of honor with the 'gentleness'. So, what Denethor is essentially saying is, "don't spare, kill whomever however and to hell with your chivalry and honor trash". Which is bad, because the king is supposed to be the holiest of holies, and always uphold that sort of thing... uh... yeah. Sorry if this is coming out convoluted. Did I mention it's one AM?
"'Why? Why do the fools fly?' said Denethor. 'Better to burn sooner than late, for burn we must'" (95). Denthor, you may be a little off in the head, but that's pretty much the coolest line in the book(s).
"'But tell me, are you hurt, or wounded?' 'No,' said Merry. 'Well, no, I don't think so. But I can't use my right arm'" (136). So... that's a yes, then?
Okay, this may be a spoiler, as I can't remember how this scene plays out, or if it plays at all, in the film. So be forewarned. But, Pippin is pretty much in the midst of the madness of the battle and instead of hiding or trying to escape, he decides he'll spend his last bit of life fighting (Northern courage!) and starts attacking all he can reach. Right before his stamina is completely spent: "...it heard voices, and they seemed to be crying in some forgotten world far above: 'The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!' For one moment Pippin's thought hovered. 'Bilbo!' it said. 'But no. That came in his tale, long long ago. This is my tale, and it is ended now. Good bye!' And his thought fled far away and his eyes saw no more" (177). I loved this because of the reference, all of that tying in and such--I don't know, something resonated with me. I also loved it because had Pippin actually died, his last thought would have been "Good bye!", which is sort of funny. Like, he had just enough to wish us all farewell... No, he didn't say anything heroic. Just bye. Yeah, I'm surprised he could focus that much, too.
"Already the Ring tempted him, gnawing at his will and reason. Wild fantasies arose in his mind; and he saw Samwise the Strong, Hero of the Age, striding with a flaming sword across the darkened land, and armies flocking to his call as he marched to the overthrow of Barad-dur. And then all the clouds rolled away, and the white sun shone, and at his command the vale of Gorgoroth became a garden of flowers and trees and brought forth fruit. He had only to put on the Ring and claim it for his own, and all this could be" (186). Well, we know the Ring seduces people by tempting them with what they want. Power, armies, women (Sauron definitely did it for the girls). Sam loved gardening. He loved plants and flowers and fruits. The flaming sword thing is great, but that's just icing on the cake--what he'd really like is the plant life, and to be such a successful gardener. I understand all of this, but it doesn't make the image in my head any less goofy. Tolkien certainly didn't intend it that way, but it can't be helped. Sorry, JRR!
"'Don't orcs eat, and don't they drink? Or do they just live on foul air and poison?' 'No, they eat and drink, Sam. The Shadow that bred them can only mock, it cannot make: not real new things of its own'" (201). I find this interesting and note-worthy in light of Tolkien's religion; he was Christian. (Incidentally, he re-introduced CS Lewis back to Christianity.) Now, I cannot site exactly the source--though I feel very strongly that it's a footnote from Paradise Lost--that Satan cannot create, he can only pervert what God has already made. The line is almost completely the same. Just pointing that similarity out, there. (Fun fact, in an attempt to google the exact quote, I came upon this Yahoo! Answers question: "Can Satan read our minds/know our thoughts?" Maybe it's the fact that it's 1:26 AM, but I found this quite hilarious.)
Oh, here we go, get ready for some serious foreshadowing. Gollum unsuccessfully attempts to accost Frodo and he just snaps: "'Begone, and trouble me no more! If you touch me ever again, you shall be cast yourself into the fires of Mount Doom!" (237). I see what you did there. And less so, Gollum works a little more to seal his own fate: "'Let us live, yes, live just a little longer. Lost lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust'" (237). Yeah, you will. Well, if by 'dust' you mean fiery lava-y death. Ooh, now I'm getting mean though. I really do feel bad for Gollum, even if he's a shifty little nasty creature, he certainly is pitiable. And Samwise Gamgee being incredibly mean to him doesn't hurt his pity-factor. Sam, this is why we can't be friends, which is kind of a shame, because you're so sweet otherwise.
I felt so bad for Bilbo. When all (sort of) is said and done, Frodo meets back with Bilbo, who's practically become a senile old man. It's kind of disheartening. I know I'm not big on The Hobbit, but I really really really love Bilbo!
Oh, and my problem with the end. After (spoiler!) Faramir is wed, I was kind of like... "And they all lived happily ever after!" Ten pages later: "Happily ever after!" One mini-plot later: "I AM GOING TO BLUE SKIDDOO INTO THIS BOOK AND PHYSICALLY HARM SOMEONE." Yes, I understand the bit about Hobbiton was necessary. You may or may not remember this, but I believe I mentioned the goings-on in Isengard were meant to reflect what had happened to Tolkien's sleepy little home as industrialization and I believe the war increased. Well, Saruman is allowed to escape and moves onto Hobbiton. Hobbiton is reclaimed for the hobbits and the destructive forces are driven away. This is meant to symbolize what he wanted to do--take his home back to what it had been, make it beautiful again, fix it. I can appreciate it in that light. But I'm not a big fan of how it actually played out; I liked Marky Mark's summary much more enjoyable. I think I may just have a problem with JRR Tolkien's endings or how he wraps things up. I mean, Smaug's death and after turned me off to the whole of The Hobbit as a kid, and I still wrinkle my nose past that certain point. And this--well, similarity. I didn't detest the whole ending, but that tad bit bothered me intensely. I think he tries to write in that little extra bit of conflict at the very end, when the reader (or at least when the reader is me) is trying to wind down. The war with the goblins in The Hobbit--and this battle for Hobbiton--you see what I mean? They're kind of nestled in, even though the basic conflicts are basically over and done with: Smaug is dead and the Ring is destroyed. QUEST IS COMPLETED, GO HOME. Though, according to Marky Mark, the goblin war is necessary to show Bilbo's growth, and I guess the bit with Hobbiton provides closure with the Isengarders. Fine. You win this round, Tolkien.
"'I wish I could go all the way to Rivendell, Mr Frodo, and see Mr Bilbo,' said Sam. 'And yet the only place I really want to be in is here. I am that torn in two.' 'Poor Sam! It will feel like that, I am afraid,' said Frodo. 'But you will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be'" (335). Oh yeah; Frodo's definitely matured. You can tell just by the way his speech has changed. He sounds older and wiser (though if I recall he was always Sam's elder, by twenty years or so, or perhaps I'm thinking of his age in relation to Pippin or Merry). You know? This is the sad sweet goodbye word. While we're talking about sweet things, while I'm thinking of it, I love Legolas's and Gimli's friendship. Big hugs all around? Yes? Sounds good!
For the most part, I skimmed the appendixes; the only parts I paid tight attention to was the story of Aragorn and Arwen. For the most part, any other really riveting things had already been outlined by Marky Mark. So... yes...
Well, there you have it. Go read the series; I commandeth thee. Really. I can't imagine a reader disliking it, unless if they didn't like to read or didn't like fantasy or what have you and in that case I respond with hey. Why are you even reading this blog then? Huh? Yeah. That's what I thought.
Oh, and just as a note, I finished this book hiding from the law, AKA teachers. I signed out early to visit a Brit lit class (I would) and remembered there was a student teacher. I didn't know where to go, so I hunkered down in a hallway that I thought would be secluded and began to read because I really had no other choice. It turned out, the hallway just happened to have rather heavy traffic that day, but absolutely no one even batted an eye to my being there (not even either teacher that came upon me); they were even less surprised to find that I was reading up there. And, even lesser surprised than that, to see I was reading Return of the King. It was actually pretty pleasant. I'm going to start doing it more often.
*The 'Classics' shelf is a special shelf designated for books that have not only won my favor, but that I turn an objective eye on and decide whether they should be considered important or rereadable for future generations, and many other odd ins and outs. It's just how I roll.
PS. For those curious about the titles for these LotR posts: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uE-1RPDqJAY
Just because it's funny: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yqVD0swvWU
PPS. Just kidding about that 'never come back' thing! Really!
EDIT: So, I was kind of right about the thing with Denethor. Marky Mark has told me that, yes, Tolkien honored the medieval honor system highly (greatly?) and by including Denethor admonishing Faramir for showing mercy, Tolkien is saying, "This guy is a worm and definitely not honor-worthy". Only he said it with eloquence and a lot of paragraphs that were dense but apparently I was still able to understand. And apparently Denethor's quote about burning is just proving himself that he's a coward, which I didn't understand when I first wrote this up, but after reflecting on this do: he'd rather give up and kill himself. Well... I still think it's a cool quote. So there.
Yeah, but, back to that waltz and all. (Where did that even come from?) Oh wow. Oh wow, yes, it was incredible. I'd be lying if I said I believed the third book to be as good as the first two (I have to say, I believe The Two Towers is my favorite) but that hardly matters because oh my God this series. I was practically jumping out of my skin to finish the book (and likewise, I am so to finish this post) so yes, I'd see the end--but also, to put it in the Classics* shelf. Let's goooo!
Again, I feel no need to summarize or reiterate why there's no real need to summarize, or shouldn't be. Come on, even I had seen the movies! And I'm pretty sure that, before the events of the last month or so, I was the only person on this entire planet who had never read the trilogy.
"And upon its thrust-out knee was the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone so strong and old that it seemed to have not been builded but carven by giants out of the bones of the earth" (8). Ignore the fact that 'builded' looks weird--Tolkien purposely writes to sound archaic, and built is probably just the more modern rendition of the word (sounds Tudor, if you ask me...) Why I quote it is because I just really like that phrasing--"bones of the earth". It sounds so cool!
"'Which question shall I answer first?' said Pippin. 'My father farms the lands round Whitwell near Tuckburough in the Shire. I am nearly twenty-nine, so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow any more, save sideways'" (29). I know, you're sick of me saying it, but the hobbits are just too adorably awesome. Can I please just marry all of them. No, it wasn't really a question... it's happening.
"'Where will wants not, a way opens, so we say'" (70). Again, that whole Tolkien is making up--or in this case creating a root--of sayings thing. Of course, in this case, it'd be the root to "Where there's a will, there's a way". I think.
"'But in desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death'" (80). I feel like this, in some respect, sort of shows Denethor's corruption, or confusion, for he is not completely evil, but he's very... muddled. Denethor is Boromir and Faramir's father. But what I mean is, well, you know how Boromir attempted to take the Ring? A few paragraphs later, Denethor says to Faramir that he wished Faramir had died in Boromir's stead which is pretty bad to begin with, and then he goes on to say that Boromir would have "remembered his father's need" and brought him a "mighty gift" (80; both). Of course, the Ring. Which is also pretty bad. But going back to that first quote... Back in the medieval days, honor was your god. You never struck an unarmed enemy, you never struck at the back, you never took advantage in 'cowardly' blows, et cetera. If I'm correct (we'll see what Marky Mark has to say on all of this) then we can equate this sort of honor with the 'gentleness'. So, what Denethor is essentially saying is, "don't spare, kill whomever however and to hell with your chivalry and honor trash". Which is bad, because the king is supposed to be the holiest of holies, and always uphold that sort of thing... uh... yeah. Sorry if this is coming out convoluted. Did I mention it's one AM?
"'Why? Why do the fools fly?' said Denethor. 'Better to burn sooner than late, for burn we must'" (95). Denthor, you may be a little off in the head, but that's pretty much the coolest line in the book(s).
"'But tell me, are you hurt, or wounded?' 'No,' said Merry. 'Well, no, I don't think so. But I can't use my right arm'" (136). So... that's a yes, then?
Okay, this may be a spoiler, as I can't remember how this scene plays out, or if it plays at all, in the film. So be forewarned. But, Pippin is pretty much in the midst of the madness of the battle and instead of hiding or trying to escape, he decides he'll spend his last bit of life fighting (Northern courage!) and starts attacking all he can reach. Right before his stamina is completely spent: "...it heard voices, and they seemed to be crying in some forgotten world far above: 'The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!' For one moment Pippin's thought hovered. 'Bilbo!' it said. 'But no. That came in his tale, long long ago. This is my tale, and it is ended now. Good bye!' And his thought fled far away and his eyes saw no more" (177). I loved this because of the reference, all of that tying in and such--I don't know, something resonated with me. I also loved it because had Pippin actually died, his last thought would have been "Good bye!", which is sort of funny. Like, he had just enough to wish us all farewell... No, he didn't say anything heroic. Just bye. Yeah, I'm surprised he could focus that much, too.
"Already the Ring tempted him, gnawing at his will and reason. Wild fantasies arose in his mind; and he saw Samwise the Strong, Hero of the Age, striding with a flaming sword across the darkened land, and armies flocking to his call as he marched to the overthrow of Barad-dur. And then all the clouds rolled away, and the white sun shone, and at his command the vale of Gorgoroth became a garden of flowers and trees and brought forth fruit. He had only to put on the Ring and claim it for his own, and all this could be" (186). Well, we know the Ring seduces people by tempting them with what they want. Power, armies, women (Sauron definitely did it for the girls). Sam loved gardening. He loved plants and flowers and fruits. The flaming sword thing is great, but that's just icing on the cake--what he'd really like is the plant life, and to be such a successful gardener. I understand all of this, but it doesn't make the image in my head any less goofy. Tolkien certainly didn't intend it that way, but it can't be helped. Sorry, JRR!
"'Don't orcs eat, and don't they drink? Or do they just live on foul air and poison?' 'No, they eat and drink, Sam. The Shadow that bred them can only mock, it cannot make: not real new things of its own'" (201). I find this interesting and note-worthy in light of Tolkien's religion; he was Christian. (Incidentally, he re-introduced CS Lewis back to Christianity.) Now, I cannot site exactly the source--though I feel very strongly that it's a footnote from Paradise Lost--that Satan cannot create, he can only pervert what God has already made. The line is almost completely the same. Just pointing that similarity out, there. (Fun fact, in an attempt to google the exact quote, I came upon this Yahoo! Answers question: "Can Satan read our minds/know our thoughts?" Maybe it's the fact that it's 1:26 AM, but I found this quite hilarious.)
Oh, here we go, get ready for some serious foreshadowing. Gollum unsuccessfully attempts to accost Frodo and he just snaps: "'Begone, and trouble me no more! If you touch me ever again, you shall be cast yourself into the fires of Mount Doom!" (237). I see what you did there. And less so, Gollum works a little more to seal his own fate: "'Let us live, yes, live just a little longer. Lost lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust'" (237). Yeah, you will. Well, if by 'dust' you mean fiery lava-y death. Ooh, now I'm getting mean though. I really do feel bad for Gollum, even if he's a shifty little nasty creature, he certainly is pitiable. And Samwise Gamgee being incredibly mean to him doesn't hurt his pity-factor. Sam, this is why we can't be friends, which is kind of a shame, because you're so sweet otherwise.
I felt so bad for Bilbo. When all (sort of) is said and done, Frodo meets back with Bilbo, who's practically become a senile old man. It's kind of disheartening. I know I'm not big on The Hobbit, but I really really really love Bilbo!
Oh, and my problem with the end. After (spoiler!) Faramir is wed, I was kind of like... "And they all lived happily ever after!" Ten pages later: "Happily ever after!" One mini-plot later: "I AM GOING TO BLUE SKIDDOO INTO THIS BOOK AND PHYSICALLY HARM SOMEONE." Yes, I understand the bit about Hobbiton was necessary. You may or may not remember this, but I believe I mentioned the goings-on in Isengard were meant to reflect what had happened to Tolkien's sleepy little home as industrialization and I believe the war increased. Well, Saruman is allowed to escape and moves onto Hobbiton. Hobbiton is reclaimed for the hobbits and the destructive forces are driven away. This is meant to symbolize what he wanted to do--take his home back to what it had been, make it beautiful again, fix it. I can appreciate it in that light. But I'm not a big fan of how it actually played out; I liked Marky Mark's summary much more enjoyable. I think I may just have a problem with JRR Tolkien's endings or how he wraps things up. I mean, Smaug's death and after turned me off to the whole of The Hobbit as a kid, and I still wrinkle my nose past that certain point. And this--well, similarity. I didn't detest the whole ending, but that tad bit bothered me intensely. I think he tries to write in that little extra bit of conflict at the very end, when the reader (or at least when the reader is me) is trying to wind down. The war with the goblins in The Hobbit--and this battle for Hobbiton--you see what I mean? They're kind of nestled in, even though the basic conflicts are basically over and done with: Smaug is dead and the Ring is destroyed. QUEST IS COMPLETED, GO HOME. Though, according to Marky Mark, the goblin war is necessary to show Bilbo's growth, and I guess the bit with Hobbiton provides closure with the Isengarders. Fine. You win this round, Tolkien.
"'I wish I could go all the way to Rivendell, Mr Frodo, and see Mr Bilbo,' said Sam. 'And yet the only place I really want to be in is here. I am that torn in two.' 'Poor Sam! It will feel like that, I am afraid,' said Frodo. 'But you will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be'" (335). Oh yeah; Frodo's definitely matured. You can tell just by the way his speech has changed. He sounds older and wiser (though if I recall he was always Sam's elder, by twenty years or so, or perhaps I'm thinking of his age in relation to Pippin or Merry). You know? This is the sad sweet goodbye word. While we're talking about sweet things, while I'm thinking of it, I love Legolas's and Gimli's friendship. Big hugs all around? Yes? Sounds good!
For the most part, I skimmed the appendixes; the only parts I paid tight attention to was the story of Aragorn and Arwen. For the most part, any other really riveting things had already been outlined by Marky Mark. So... yes...
Well, there you have it. Go read the series; I commandeth thee. Really. I can't imagine a reader disliking it, unless if they didn't like to read or didn't like fantasy or what have you and in that case I respond with hey. Why are you even reading this blog then? Huh? Yeah. That's what I thought.
Oh, and just as a note, I finished this book hiding from the law, AKA teachers. I signed out early to visit a Brit lit class (I would) and remembered there was a student teacher. I didn't know where to go, so I hunkered down in a hallway that I thought would be secluded and began to read because I really had no other choice. It turned out, the hallway just happened to have rather heavy traffic that day, but absolutely no one even batted an eye to my being there (not even either teacher that came upon me); they were even less surprised to find that I was reading up there. And, even lesser surprised than that, to see I was reading Return of the King. It was actually pretty pleasant. I'm going to start doing it more often.
*The 'Classics' shelf is a special shelf designated for books that have not only won my favor, but that I turn an objective eye on and decide whether they should be considered important or rereadable for future generations, and many other odd ins and outs. It's just how I roll.
PS. For those curious about the titles for these LotR posts: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uE-1RPDqJAY
Just because it's funny: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yqVD0swvWU
PPS. Just kidding about that 'never come back' thing! Really!
EDIT: So, I was kind of right about the thing with Denethor. Marky Mark has told me that, yes, Tolkien honored the medieval honor system highly (greatly?) and by including Denethor admonishing Faramir for showing mercy, Tolkien is saying, "This guy is a worm and definitely not honor-worthy". Only he said it with eloquence and a lot of paragraphs that were dense but apparently I was still able to understand. And apparently Denethor's quote about burning is just proving himself that he's a coward, which I didn't understand when I first wrote this up, but after reflecting on this do: he'd rather give up and kill himself. Well... I still think it's a cool quote. So there.
Now I've got my magic bus
I took a break from Lord of the Rings for a book required for school, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe. I thought the contrast between them would be way too much to balance. If you know what The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test is about, I'm sure you can concur, if not, let me give you a ten words or less summary: Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters trip on LSD.
Ayup. It's essentially a report of their LSD-induced adventures and such. Ken Kesey is the author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, FYI, and he was in a test group for LSD. He discovered how to synthesize it and began making more and passing it out to those in his inner circle--soon to become the Merry Pranksters. They acquired an old school bus and refitted it with bunks and a stairway and a deck on top and splattered it with Day-Glo paint and lived in their own little community. A good portion of the book is about their pilgrimage in the bus (named 'Furthur') to New York City, to see Timothy Leary and for Kesey's book signing/publication event of his latest book.
"That's good thinking there, Cool Breeze" (1). Of course, it's the first line. This isn't a particularly great first line (though the way Robby D made it sound great, like when Marky Mark reads Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit selections), but I just like how it's kind of directed out to... someone else. You know? Like dialogue, but seamlessly placed, nay, injected into the text. I feel like Palahniuk does this sort of thing a lot. It seems like something he'd do. Anyway, Wolfe does this a lot in the beginning, but not as much later on, which I kind of miss, there. (Another example from later on: "...Doris Delay, told me I ought to put some more... well, color... into my appearance. That hurt, Doris Delay, but I know you meant it as a kindly suggestion" [16]. I like this one better, I do.)
Pretty early, practically the first time we--Wolfe--meets Kesey, he says that it's time for "the psychedelic movement to go 'beyond acid'" (8). At this point, keep in mind, the use of LSD and such has been growing a swelling for a few years, but Kesey was the first pioneer--okay, it's just now starting to hit 'mainstream', but it's been underground for a while. He's ready to move on, but not the newcomers, so it looks like he's copping out. Kesey's ready to look for something beyond, but his followers think he's selling them short and will turn on him, well, could turn on him.
"'I'd rather be a lightning rod than a seismograph'" (8).
The psychedelic movement is also want followed the Beat movement. "The whole old-style hip life--jazz, coffee houses, civil rights, invite a spade for dinner, Vietnam--it was all suddenly dying, I found out, even among the students at Berkeley... which had been the heart of the 'student-rebellion' and so forth. It had even gotten to the point that Negroes were no longer in the hip scene, not even as totem figures. It was unbelievable. Spades, the very soul figures of Hip, of jazz, of the hip vocabulary itself... all over, finished, incredibly" (10). That is, their time has ended, and now there is this. From Kerouac to Kesey, if you will.
Ah, yes, I feel I should mention that Neal Cassady is in the book, maybe not the most important figure but certainly up there. Neal Cassady, idolized in Kerouac's On the Road. In On the Road he was left in decline, still loved by Kerouac, but--differently. He wasn't quite the idol he had been. However, in this, Cassady seemed to have gotten 'IT' back, at least a little. (He is with the Pranksters traveling, for the record, wild and drugged as ever before.)
"Everything in everybody's life is... significant. And everybody is alert, watching for the meanings. And the vibrations. There is no end of vibrations" (18).
"Whether he is a genius or not, I couldn't say. He certainly looks mad enough" (22).
"'You've got to have some faith in what you're trying to do. It's easy to have faith as long as it goes along with what you already know. But you've got to have faith in us all the way. Somebody like Gleason... he was with us as long as our fantasy coincided with his. But as soon as we went on further'" (possible pun?) "'he didn't understand it, so he was going against us. He had... no faith'" (30). The Pranksters want to reject religion, at the very least the Christian God and trinity. However, they and Kesey parallel Christ or any other religious leader with disciples. You get a very religious feel from them, especially illustrated in this. Faith to create and have something more, something different, and god willing, better. Faith, faith's the word.
"He was from Oregon--who the hell was ever from Oregon?" (34). I laughed so hard when I read this. (But really, who is?)
So, one of the reasons why the LSD is so popular is because it makes you feel like a superhero. There's an added depth when you remember that Kesey discovered the stuff in a 'failed' medical experiment--think Spiderman or the Hulk, you know? Yeah, so he felt like a superhero of a sorts, definitely. "...So why not move off your smug-harbor quilty-bed dead center and cut loose--go ahead and say it--Shazam!--juice it up to what it's already aching to be" (39). That is, take the LSD, and bring your true powerful self to light, reach your full potential thanks to this little miracle, this bitty liquid.
"'Put your good where it will do the most'" (126).
Often, there are references to Heinlein's (sp?) novel, Stranger in a Strange Land. Mostly in that the Pranksters' end goal is to grok--they often say they grok or our grokking--like the main character, Valentine Michael Smith. He was raised by martians, so although human he's obviously been nurtured over nature, and one thing he picked up from the martians is the idea of grokking. To grok is to understand something completely--its physical being, its inner mental workings, everything, completely and fully. For those of you who saw Avatar, think of when the Na'vi princess says to Jake, "I see you, Jake Sully". It's essentially the same thing. Anyway, the LSD gives them, since it opens the doors of perception, the ability to 'grok'. Just--just thought I'd point that out... (And, regarding Stranger in a Strange Land: I hated it. It was a beautiful book 3/4 of the way through, but the end completely ruined it for me, so much so it ruined my perception of the first three-quarters, which was nothing but reverence. So... yeah.)
There is a bit of Joachim Wach's writing on how religions are formed included as well. I'll include a little, and you can decide for yourself whether the LSD culture growing up around Kesey was religious or not. "Following a profound new experience, providing a new illumination of the world, the founder, a highly charismatic person, begins enlisting disciples. These followers become an informal but closely knit association, bound together by the new experience, whose nature the founder has revealed and interpreted... it is oriented toward a central figure with whom each of the followers is in intimate contact... Membership in the circle requires a complete break with the ordinary pursuits of life and a radical change of in social relationships. Ties of family and kinship and loyalties of various kinds were at least temporarily relaxed or severed. The hardships, suffering and persecution that loomed for those who cast their lot with the group were counterbalanced by their high hopes and firm expectations" (128). I guess it's fairly easy to see where my opinion on the matter lies...
"Ne'mind! But Exactly! Don't explain it. Do it!" (188).
"...he; is; GOD It is crazy and delirious and zonked out and real, with half the mesencephalon saying YOU ARE HIGH and the other half saying, Nevertheless YOU ARE GOD" (196).
"Suddenly it seemed like the Pranksters could draw the whole universe into... the movie..." (203). The 'movie', as I've come to understand it, isn't exactly the Pranksters' circle, but... it's a part of them... to kind of be in sync with them, if only temporarily... literally, I guess it would be to have them all filmed with the records of the (bus and other) trip.
"'If society wants me to be an outlaw,' said Kesey, 'then I'll be an outlaw, and a damned good one. That's something people need. People at all times need outlaws" (264). They're our heroes. Our beloved hates.
"I later read about 'imprint' and that it was possible that we would continue to be meaningful to each other no matter what circumstances... I think this is true... the person in question remains very special in my life, and I in his, though we have no contact and see each other infrequently... we share something that will last. Oh hell! There's no way to talk about that without sounding goopy" (275). No, Tom Wolfe, it sounded sweet! And I know what you mean and agree with you!
Kesey, trying to skip out of his charges of marijuana possession, hightails it to Mexico. "Mario is broke himself, but gets off a collect telegram to Manzanillo under Kesey's new alias, Sol Amande. Salamander, you understand--the beast that lives in fire" (327). I thought that alias was quite clever, actually. Back in the day, it was believed that salamanders lived/were birthed from flames, but most likely what they saw were logs on fire and the salamanders rushing to escape, well, the fire. It's kind of like how the Greeks thought weasels gave birth via their mouth. (Oh, Ovid, you silly goose.) But yeah. Because Kesey's obviously under a lot of pressure... trying to duck the law... out of the frying pan into the fire... salamander... well, it induced a hearty chuckle from me, at least.
Anyway, from here on in I feel I should give some background--Kesey is caught between the cops, and former acid compatriots, who have filled in for him while he was away. Like I said much earlier, Kesey wanted to move 'beyond acid', and back in his former stomping grounds he attempts to throw a wild party to prove the acid isn't necessary... The acid heads drawn into the scene think he's copping out, but really, well, he (for lack of a better word) matured beyond it, or rejected it because it swelled into something much too large and wild for him to control--similar to when he goes to the Beatles concert and the crowd is full of wild energy, but there's just far too much to control... well, it's grown wild against him and he's being bitten by those who revered him (not all, but those later acid heads, yes...). Well, yes. So he's pretty much left for the dust, I guess you'd say. Just thought I'd throw that in here. Seems important. (I'm also open to, and would quite welcome interpretations on this.) Anyway, Robby D asked me if I thought he was copping out, and I had one of my famous brain twists--that is, the two halves of my brain both tried to speak and got twisted, and I sputtered nonsense then kind of wound down and shut up. (Spoiler alert: I'm really a robot.) Yes... maybe he was copping out a little... but like I said, he matured... it's not his fault if the others didn't understand... only to them it was a betrayal... But at the same time, to plea for a lesser sentence, and accept it all, 'play the game' I guess, I can't blame the poor guy. I'd do the same in his shoes. Most anybody would--nobody how they criticize or what have you. Bark as loud as you like, it's doubtful that empty courage will last, you know?
I mean, part of what lit his followers' fires (I believe) is that he didn't plead and rap and live up to his ideals and words, because he would have been "salted away for many years" (376), IE, put in jail. And he wanted to avoid it. So I guess I'm just reiterating what I just wrote. Well, hell, I wouldn't want to be put away either. Lay off him.
Oh! Fun fact, before I forget: Apparently, according to Wikipedia, Kerouac was greatly influenced by Wolfe's writing style, best example of this being The Town and the City. (I've yet to read it.) But, reading this, it's very easy to see similarities, especially in the 'spontaneous prose' bit, though Kerouac is the one who really welded it into that true form, or at least he is the one accredited with that. So... yep.
"'...For a year we've been in the Garden of Eden. Acid opened the door to it. It was the Garden of Eden and Innocence and a ball. Acid opens the door and you enter and you stay a while'" (395).
I think the odd thing is, this book made me most interested in Neal Cassady, more than anyone else. In the epilogue, it states that his body had been found beside a railroad track in Mexico. The two stories are that he had been pushing himself too hard and his heart gave out, or that Cassady "felt he was growing old" (414) and basically did it purposely to himself. I want to read voraciously on him now, but it appears that there's no satisfactory biography that exists on him (or not one that's caught Robby D's eye, at least). Supposedly the book Cassady himself wrote is "kind of crappy", in the words of Robby D, but he handed me over two writings on Cassady's suicide. The one Kesey wrote was godawful; it read like a bad Stephen King short story, one that attempts to be sentimental and sweet, but it's just a mess. Bukowski's was a tad more interesting, but it wasn't really what I wanted to hear about, you know? I mean, I guess I won't ever be completely satisfied till I hear Cassady's explanation and of course that's impossible. In any case, I'd like to hear about this charismatic man who inspired the Beat generations through Kerouac and was such an important bit in the Pranksters too--well, he seems a little larger than life, deified, you know? I'm--curious.
Um, where was I? Let's see, I definitely enjoyed the book. What a wild and weird bit of text. Well. Uhm. Yeah, that's about it, in a nutshell. See you soon!
Ayup. It's essentially a report of their LSD-induced adventures and such. Ken Kesey is the author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, FYI, and he was in a test group for LSD. He discovered how to synthesize it and began making more and passing it out to those in his inner circle--soon to become the Merry Pranksters. They acquired an old school bus and refitted it with bunks and a stairway and a deck on top and splattered it with Day-Glo paint and lived in their own little community. A good portion of the book is about their pilgrimage in the bus (named 'Furthur') to New York City, to see Timothy Leary and for Kesey's book signing/publication event of his latest book.
"That's good thinking there, Cool Breeze" (1). Of course, it's the first line. This isn't a particularly great first line (though the way Robby D made it sound great, like when Marky Mark reads Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit selections), but I just like how it's kind of directed out to... someone else. You know? Like dialogue, but seamlessly placed, nay, injected into the text. I feel like Palahniuk does this sort of thing a lot. It seems like something he'd do. Anyway, Wolfe does this a lot in the beginning, but not as much later on, which I kind of miss, there. (Another example from later on: "...Doris Delay, told me I ought to put some more... well, color... into my appearance. That hurt, Doris Delay, but I know you meant it as a kindly suggestion" [16]. I like this one better, I do.)
Pretty early, practically the first time we--Wolfe--meets Kesey, he says that it's time for "the psychedelic movement to go 'beyond acid'" (8). At this point, keep in mind, the use of LSD and such has been growing a swelling for a few years, but Kesey was the first pioneer--okay, it's just now starting to hit 'mainstream', but it's been underground for a while. He's ready to move on, but not the newcomers, so it looks like he's copping out. Kesey's ready to look for something beyond, but his followers think he's selling them short and will turn on him, well, could turn on him.
"'I'd rather be a lightning rod than a seismograph'" (8).
The psychedelic movement is also want followed the Beat movement. "The whole old-style hip life--jazz, coffee houses, civil rights, invite a spade for dinner, Vietnam--it was all suddenly dying, I found out, even among the students at Berkeley... which had been the heart of the 'student-rebellion' and so forth. It had even gotten to the point that Negroes were no longer in the hip scene, not even as totem figures. It was unbelievable. Spades, the very soul figures of Hip, of jazz, of the hip vocabulary itself... all over, finished, incredibly" (10). That is, their time has ended, and now there is this. From Kerouac to Kesey, if you will.
Ah, yes, I feel I should mention that Neal Cassady is in the book, maybe not the most important figure but certainly up there. Neal Cassady, idolized in Kerouac's On the Road. In On the Road he was left in decline, still loved by Kerouac, but--differently. He wasn't quite the idol he had been. However, in this, Cassady seemed to have gotten 'IT' back, at least a little. (He is with the Pranksters traveling, for the record, wild and drugged as ever before.)
"Everything in everybody's life is... significant. And everybody is alert, watching for the meanings. And the vibrations. There is no end of vibrations" (18).
"Whether he is a genius or not, I couldn't say. He certainly looks mad enough" (22).
"'You've got to have some faith in what you're trying to do. It's easy to have faith as long as it goes along with what you already know. But you've got to have faith in us all the way. Somebody like Gleason... he was with us as long as our fantasy coincided with his. But as soon as we went on further'" (possible pun?) "'he didn't understand it, so he was going against us. He had... no faith'" (30). The Pranksters want to reject religion, at the very least the Christian God and trinity. However, they and Kesey parallel Christ or any other religious leader with disciples. You get a very religious feel from them, especially illustrated in this. Faith to create and have something more, something different, and god willing, better. Faith, faith's the word.
"He was from Oregon--who the hell was ever from Oregon?" (34). I laughed so hard when I read this. (But really, who is?)
So, one of the reasons why the LSD is so popular is because it makes you feel like a superhero. There's an added depth when you remember that Kesey discovered the stuff in a 'failed' medical experiment--think Spiderman or the Hulk, you know? Yeah, so he felt like a superhero of a sorts, definitely. "...So why not move off your smug-harbor quilty-bed dead center and cut loose--go ahead and say it--Shazam!--juice it up to what it's already aching to be" (39). That is, take the LSD, and bring your true powerful self to light, reach your full potential thanks to this little miracle, this bitty liquid.
"'Put your good where it will do the most'" (126).
Often, there are references to Heinlein's (sp?) novel, Stranger in a Strange Land. Mostly in that the Pranksters' end goal is to grok--they often say they grok or our grokking--like the main character, Valentine Michael Smith. He was raised by martians, so although human he's obviously been nurtured over nature, and one thing he picked up from the martians is the idea of grokking. To grok is to understand something completely--its physical being, its inner mental workings, everything, completely and fully. For those of you who saw Avatar, think of when the Na'vi princess says to Jake, "I see you, Jake Sully". It's essentially the same thing. Anyway, the LSD gives them, since it opens the doors of perception, the ability to 'grok'. Just--just thought I'd point that out... (And, regarding Stranger in a Strange Land: I hated it. It was a beautiful book 3/4 of the way through, but the end completely ruined it for me, so much so it ruined my perception of the first three-quarters, which was nothing but reverence. So... yeah.)
There is a bit of Joachim Wach's writing on how religions are formed included as well. I'll include a little, and you can decide for yourself whether the LSD culture growing up around Kesey was religious or not. "Following a profound new experience, providing a new illumination of the world, the founder, a highly charismatic person, begins enlisting disciples. These followers become an informal but closely knit association, bound together by the new experience, whose nature the founder has revealed and interpreted... it is oriented toward a central figure with whom each of the followers is in intimate contact... Membership in the circle requires a complete break with the ordinary pursuits of life and a radical change of in social relationships. Ties of family and kinship and loyalties of various kinds were at least temporarily relaxed or severed. The hardships, suffering and persecution that loomed for those who cast their lot with the group were counterbalanced by their high hopes and firm expectations" (128). I guess it's fairly easy to see where my opinion on the matter lies...
"Ne'mind! But Exactly! Don't explain it. Do it!" (188).
"...he; is; GOD It is crazy and delirious and zonked out and real, with half the mesencephalon saying YOU ARE HIGH and the other half saying, Nevertheless YOU ARE GOD" (196).
"Suddenly it seemed like the Pranksters could draw the whole universe into... the movie..." (203). The 'movie', as I've come to understand it, isn't exactly the Pranksters' circle, but... it's a part of them... to kind of be in sync with them, if only temporarily... literally, I guess it would be to have them all filmed with the records of the (bus and other) trip.
"'If society wants me to be an outlaw,' said Kesey, 'then I'll be an outlaw, and a damned good one. That's something people need. People at all times need outlaws" (264). They're our heroes. Our beloved hates.
"I later read about 'imprint' and that it was possible that we would continue to be meaningful to each other no matter what circumstances... I think this is true... the person in question remains very special in my life, and I in his, though we have no contact and see each other infrequently... we share something that will last. Oh hell! There's no way to talk about that without sounding goopy" (275). No, Tom Wolfe, it sounded sweet! And I know what you mean and agree with you!
Kesey, trying to skip out of his charges of marijuana possession, hightails it to Mexico. "Mario is broke himself, but gets off a collect telegram to Manzanillo under Kesey's new alias, Sol Amande. Salamander, you understand--the beast that lives in fire" (327). I thought that alias was quite clever, actually. Back in the day, it was believed that salamanders lived/were birthed from flames, but most likely what they saw were logs on fire and the salamanders rushing to escape, well, the fire. It's kind of like how the Greeks thought weasels gave birth via their mouth. (Oh, Ovid, you silly goose.) But yeah. Because Kesey's obviously under a lot of pressure... trying to duck the law... out of the frying pan into the fire... salamander... well, it induced a hearty chuckle from me, at least.
Anyway, from here on in I feel I should give some background--Kesey is caught between the cops, and former acid compatriots, who have filled in for him while he was away. Like I said much earlier, Kesey wanted to move 'beyond acid', and back in his former stomping grounds he attempts to throw a wild party to prove the acid isn't necessary... The acid heads drawn into the scene think he's copping out, but really, well, he (for lack of a better word) matured beyond it, or rejected it because it swelled into something much too large and wild for him to control--similar to when he goes to the Beatles concert and the crowd is full of wild energy, but there's just far too much to control... well, it's grown wild against him and he's being bitten by those who revered him (not all, but those later acid heads, yes...). Well, yes. So he's pretty much left for the dust, I guess you'd say. Just thought I'd throw that in here. Seems important. (I'm also open to, and would quite welcome interpretations on this.) Anyway, Robby D asked me if I thought he was copping out, and I had one of my famous brain twists--that is, the two halves of my brain both tried to speak and got twisted, and I sputtered nonsense then kind of wound down and shut up. (Spoiler alert: I'm really a robot.) Yes... maybe he was copping out a little... but like I said, he matured... it's not his fault if the others didn't understand... only to them it was a betrayal... But at the same time, to plea for a lesser sentence, and accept it all, 'play the game' I guess, I can't blame the poor guy. I'd do the same in his shoes. Most anybody would--nobody how they criticize or what have you. Bark as loud as you like, it's doubtful that empty courage will last, you know?
I mean, part of what lit his followers' fires (I believe) is that he didn't plead and rap and live up to his ideals and words, because he would have been "salted away for many years" (376), IE, put in jail. And he wanted to avoid it. So I guess I'm just reiterating what I just wrote. Well, hell, I wouldn't want to be put away either. Lay off him.
Oh! Fun fact, before I forget: Apparently, according to Wikipedia, Kerouac was greatly influenced by Wolfe's writing style, best example of this being The Town and the City. (I've yet to read it.) But, reading this, it's very easy to see similarities, especially in the 'spontaneous prose' bit, though Kerouac is the one who really welded it into that true form, or at least he is the one accredited with that. So... yep.
"'...For a year we've been in the Garden of Eden. Acid opened the door to it. It was the Garden of Eden and Innocence and a ball. Acid opens the door and you enter and you stay a while'" (395).
I think the odd thing is, this book made me most interested in Neal Cassady, more than anyone else. In the epilogue, it states that his body had been found beside a railroad track in Mexico. The two stories are that he had been pushing himself too hard and his heart gave out, or that Cassady "felt he was growing old" (414) and basically did it purposely to himself. I want to read voraciously on him now, but it appears that there's no satisfactory biography that exists on him (or not one that's caught Robby D's eye, at least). Supposedly the book Cassady himself wrote is "kind of crappy", in the words of Robby D, but he handed me over two writings on Cassady's suicide. The one Kesey wrote was godawful; it read like a bad Stephen King short story, one that attempts to be sentimental and sweet, but it's just a mess. Bukowski's was a tad more interesting, but it wasn't really what I wanted to hear about, you know? I mean, I guess I won't ever be completely satisfied till I hear Cassady's explanation and of course that's impossible. In any case, I'd like to hear about this charismatic man who inspired the Beat generations through Kerouac and was such an important bit in the Pranksters too--well, he seems a little larger than life, deified, you know? I'm--curious.
Um, where was I? Let's see, I definitely enjoyed the book. What a wild and weird bit of text. Well. Uhm. Yeah, that's about it, in a nutshell. See you soon!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!
Welp, I'm back, having read the second book in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, because I'm cool like that. Really, I am. I love this series so freakin' much. What a fool I was to have avoided it for so long, and what a good person Marky Mark was for forcing us to read the book!
Anyway. Again, you've probably seen the movie. I'm going to assume so. The book starts off at the scene near the very end of the first film, when Boromir's basically fighting his last. What I really like, actually, is that in the beginning of the book there's a brief synopsis of the previous book. Sooo. Yep. Let's fire ti up, I guess.
"...On the front of their iron helms was set an S-rune, wrought of some white metal. 'I have not seen these tokens before,' said Aragorn. 'What do they mean?' 'S is for Sauron,' said Gimli. 'That is easy to read'" (6). Hahahaha, that is great! Can you imagine, as a little kid, reading one of those little alphabet books and running into that? As in, A is for Apple, B is for Bee, C is for Cookie, D is for Dog, E is for Elephant, F is for Forest, G is for Giraffe, H is for Helicopter, I is for Igloo, J is for Jam, K is for Kite, L is for Lion, M is for Monkey, N is for Nickel, O is for Orange, P is for Pea, Q is for Quarter, R is for Rooster, S IS FOR SAURON!!!, T is for Tiger, U is for Umbrella, V is for Violin, W is for Whale, X is for Xylophone, Y is for You, Z is for Zebra.
Oh man, there's this fantastic scene in the book that I can't remember as to whether or not it's actually in the movie. It's after Sam and Pippin are taken by the Orcs. Now, viewers of the movie might note be aware of this, but the reason Gollum came to (sometimes) be called Gollum is because he made a noise that sounded like gollum in his throat after he took the Ring. I'm not entirely sure what kind of noise that'd be (or why the Ring would usher it on) but I imagine it'd be a very unpleasant gulping noise. Anyway, it occurs to Pippin that these Orcs want to find the Hobbit with the Ring. And Pippin whispers under his breath that it won't be that easy to find 'it' (meaning the Ring, of course) and an Orc asks him what he's talking about. This is what follows: "For a moment Pippin was silent. Then suddenly in the darkness he made a noise in his throat: gollum, gollum. 'Nothing, my precious,' he added" (55). Pippin never even touched the Ring. He's not well-versed with it, not at all like Frodo, but look at that! It just shows how corrupting the thing is, or how much weaker Pippin is than Frodo, or perhaps both. Either way, this was a scrumptious tad bit. I'd take my hat off to Tolkien, but in my insanity I might try to take the Ring and fall into the fires of Mount Doom, so...
Grandmother Willow is an Ent. 'Nuff said.
"'I must cool myself and think; for it is easier to shout stop! than to do it'" (77).
Marky Mark told us of how Tolkien as a boy had lived in some idyllic little countryside, clean and fresh and lovely--until the Wars came, and suddenly all turned to industry and filth and machinery, and his lovely little home had been almost literally eaten by the production. Sounds like someone named Saruman's doings, eh? Isengard, pre-Saruman's industrialization: "Once it had been green and filled with avenues, and groves of fruitful trees, watered by streams that flowed from the mountains to a lake. But no green thing grew there in the latter days of Saruman. The roads were paved with stone flags, dark and hard; and beside their borders instead of trees there marched long lines of pillars, some of marble, some of copper and iron, joined by heavy chains" (174). I believe it's safe to assume that this is a description of his home and what it had become. There will be more on this topic when I finish The Return of the King.
"'But I should like to know--' Pippin began. 'Mercy!' cried Gandalf. 'If the giving of information is to be the cure of your inquisitiveness, I shall spend all the rest of my days in answering you. What more do you want to know?' 'The names of all the stars, and of all living things, and the whole history of Middle-earth and Over-heaven and of the Sundering Seas,' laughed Pippin. 'Of course! What less? But I am not in a hurry tonight'" (226). Hobbits are so adorable. Can I just marry one? Or all of them? Except for Sam, because he made me soooo mad in this book! Gurgh! But we'll get to that later on, I suppose.
Gollum, as you know, guides Sam and Frodo for a while. (It's weirdly adorable, too, as Gollum acts weirdly dog like and excitedly over Frodo--well, I don't know, like I said, weirdly adorable, emphasis on the weirdly.) Now, in The Hobbit, as I assume you know/remember, Bilbo and Gollum have their riddle game. Gollum resurrects one of his riddles: "Alive without breath; as cold as death; never thirsting, ever drinking; clad in mail, never clinking" (253). It continues a few more lines, though I feel that is as far as it goes when it is in The Hobbit. Of course, I cannot check, being that I am in school, but we'll pretend. I'll throw in an edit if I ever remember. For the record, I didn't guess that riddle either. I got zero percent of the riddles asked, except for the 'dark' one. But yeah... I just thought that was cool... Gollum even says "'Baggins guessed it'" (253).
Sam, like I said, made me incredibly mad in this book. He was incredibly mean to Gollum. Okay, so Gollum was kind of a slimy little jerk. But he's such a pitiable character! But, I momentarily forgave Sam at one point because he talks about how much he'd like to see 'oliphaunts', of course, elephants. And he stands up and says a little poem and it's just another 'Hobbits are so cute can I just marry them all' moment.
Okay, scene coming up is long, three or four pages long, so I will fracture it as much as I possibly can. Marky Mark read it to us in class, and it's probably the best scene of the book. His point was, well, one was, that Sam and Frodo sort of 'step out' of the story and comment upon it. "'The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have just been landed in them, usually--their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on--and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. you know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same--like old Mr Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?... Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours. But that's a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it--and the Silmaril went on and came to Earendil... You've got some of the light of it in the star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we're in the same tale still! It's going on. Don't the great tales ever end?' 'No, they never end as tales,' said Frodo. 'But the people in them come, and go when their part's ended. Our part will end later--or sooner'" (363). I believe the word I'd use to describe this bit is 'fascinating'. Very... comfortable, if you get my meaning. Like you're there with them, really there, like when I was kid and I'd read books and pretend I was some extra character added in, the main character's little sister or some such. Only there's no need for this, because you're actually there with Sam and Frodo, listening.
"'Still, I wonder if we shall ever be put into songs or tales. We're in one, of course; but I mean: put into words, you know, told by the fireside, or read out of a great big book with red and black letters, years and years afterwards. And people will say: 'Let's hear about Frodo and the Ring!' And they'll say: 'Yes, that's one of my favorite stories. Frodo was very brave, wasn't he, dad?' 'Yes, my boy, the famousest of the hobbits, and that's saying a lot.' 'It's saying a lot too much, said Frodo, and he laughed, a long clear laugh from the heart... 'But you've left out one of the chief characters: Samwise the stouthearted. 'I want to hear more about Sam, dad. Why didn't they put in more of his talk, dad? That's what I like, it makes me laugh. And Frodo wouldn't have got far without Sam, would he, dad?'" (363).
"'Why, even Gollum might be good in a tale, better than he is to have by you, anyway. And he used to like tales himself once, by his own account. I wonder if he thinks he's the hero or the villain? Gollum!' he called. 'Would you like to be the hero--now where's he got to again?'" (364). Again, just an interesting little note, that sort of leads into my next bit: Gollum's chance for redemption, a scene quite upsetting and makes me have a bipolar Mansfield Park-ish relationship with Sam. Fact about it: Tolkien actually wept while he wrote it.
So, the scene before is Sam is complaining to Frodo about Gollum, and speaking his paranoia unto him, that he is scared Gollum will come back and find them sleeping and try to kill them because he wants his Precious back. So Sam promises to protect Frodo, and Frodo uses Sam as a pillow to sleep, and of course Sam nods off as well, and Gollum comes back from hunting to see both of them: "Sam sat propped against the stone, his head dropping sideways and his breathing heavy. In his lap lay Frodo's head, drowned deep in sleep; upon his white forehead lay one of Sam's brown hands... Peace was in both their faces. Gollum looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back up the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very cautiously he touched Frodo's knee--but almost the touch was a caress. For a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing. But at that touch Frodo stirred and cried out softly in his sleep, and immediately Sam was wide awake. The first thing he saw was Gollum--'pawing at master,' as he thought. 'Hey you!' he said roughly. 'What are you up to?' 'Nothing, nothing,' said Gollum softly. 'Nice master!' 'I daresay,' said Sam. 'But where have you been to--sneaking off and sneaking back, you old villain?' Gollum withdrew himself, and a green glint flickered under his heavy lids. Almost spider-like he looked now, crouched back on his bent limbs, with his protruding eyes. The fleeting moment had passed, beyond recall" (366). Thus, Gollum can't be redeemed and it is inevitable that he will betray them. It really is a heartrending scene (I have only given you what is the most important part, not the whole thing).
"'It's a trap!' said Sam" (371). Should have listened to Admiral Ackbar.
One thing I don't understand is when Gollum first leads the hobbits to Shelob, the giant spider. "In past days [Gollum] had bowed and worshiped her, and the darkness of her evil will walked through all the ways of his weariness beside him, cutting him off from light and from regret. And he had promised to bring her food" (376). I don't--is it saying that he worshiped her? Strangely enough, loved her? When would they have met? How? Why wouldn't she have eaten him right off? Not enough meat on his bones? Perhaps Marky Mark can solve this mystery.
Anyway. I'm rather excited to read the next book, which should attest to how good this and the first were. I'm totally in love with this series. My dorkiness, like Saruman's evil, does nothing but expand. Also, I figured out how to change the timestamp on posts, so that's cool and all.
EDIT: Marky Mark, believe it or not, is not the Oracle of Delphi and does not know everything. However, his theory on why Shelob didn't eat Gollum is the same as mine (he actually used the same phrase as I did--in that there wasn't "enough meat on his bones"). Gollum was really thankful in his dog like pawing way and promised he'd bring her food, and now it's finally being fulfilled. (Marky Mark didn't have a clear answer as to exactly when they first met, just when Gollum went to Mordor for the first time, because apparently he did?) So... yeah... that's... that's about it, there. Yup.
Anyway. Again, you've probably seen the movie. I'm going to assume so. The book starts off at the scene near the very end of the first film, when Boromir's basically fighting his last. What I really like, actually, is that in the beginning of the book there's a brief synopsis of the previous book. Sooo. Yep. Let's fire ti up, I guess.
"...On the front of their iron helms was set an S-rune, wrought of some white metal. 'I have not seen these tokens before,' said Aragorn. 'What do they mean?' 'S is for Sauron,' said Gimli. 'That is easy to read'" (6). Hahahaha, that is great! Can you imagine, as a little kid, reading one of those little alphabet books and running into that? As in, A is for Apple, B is for Bee, C is for Cookie, D is for Dog, E is for Elephant, F is for Forest, G is for Giraffe, H is for Helicopter, I is for Igloo, J is for Jam, K is for Kite, L is for Lion, M is for Monkey, N is for Nickel, O is for Orange, P is for Pea, Q is for Quarter, R is for Rooster, S IS FOR SAURON!!!, T is for Tiger, U is for Umbrella, V is for Violin, W is for Whale, X is for Xylophone, Y is for You, Z is for Zebra.
Oh man, there's this fantastic scene in the book that I can't remember as to whether or not it's actually in the movie. It's after Sam and Pippin are taken by the Orcs. Now, viewers of the movie might note be aware of this, but the reason Gollum came to (sometimes) be called Gollum is because he made a noise that sounded like gollum in his throat after he took the Ring. I'm not entirely sure what kind of noise that'd be (or why the Ring would usher it on) but I imagine it'd be a very unpleasant gulping noise. Anyway, it occurs to Pippin that these Orcs want to find the Hobbit with the Ring. And Pippin whispers under his breath that it won't be that easy to find 'it' (meaning the Ring, of course) and an Orc asks him what he's talking about. This is what follows: "For a moment Pippin was silent. Then suddenly in the darkness he made a noise in his throat: gollum, gollum. 'Nothing, my precious,' he added" (55). Pippin never even touched the Ring. He's not well-versed with it, not at all like Frodo, but look at that! It just shows how corrupting the thing is, or how much weaker Pippin is than Frodo, or perhaps both. Either way, this was a scrumptious tad bit. I'd take my hat off to Tolkien, but in my insanity I might try to take the Ring and fall into the fires of Mount Doom, so...
Grandmother Willow is an Ent. 'Nuff said.
"'I must cool myself and think; for it is easier to shout stop! than to do it'" (77).
Marky Mark told us of how Tolkien as a boy had lived in some idyllic little countryside, clean and fresh and lovely--until the Wars came, and suddenly all turned to industry and filth and machinery, and his lovely little home had been almost literally eaten by the production. Sounds like someone named Saruman's doings, eh? Isengard, pre-Saruman's industrialization: "Once it had been green and filled with avenues, and groves of fruitful trees, watered by streams that flowed from the mountains to a lake. But no green thing grew there in the latter days of Saruman. The roads were paved with stone flags, dark and hard; and beside their borders instead of trees there marched long lines of pillars, some of marble, some of copper and iron, joined by heavy chains" (174). I believe it's safe to assume that this is a description of his home and what it had become. There will be more on this topic when I finish The Return of the King.
"'But I should like to know--' Pippin began. 'Mercy!' cried Gandalf. 'If the giving of information is to be the cure of your inquisitiveness, I shall spend all the rest of my days in answering you. What more do you want to know?' 'The names of all the stars, and of all living things, and the whole history of Middle-earth and Over-heaven and of the Sundering Seas,' laughed Pippin. 'Of course! What less? But I am not in a hurry tonight'" (226). Hobbits are so adorable. Can I just marry one? Or all of them? Except for Sam, because he made me soooo mad in this book! Gurgh! But we'll get to that later on, I suppose.
Gollum, as you know, guides Sam and Frodo for a while. (It's weirdly adorable, too, as Gollum acts weirdly dog like and excitedly over Frodo--well, I don't know, like I said, weirdly adorable, emphasis on the weirdly.) Now, in The Hobbit, as I assume you know/remember, Bilbo and Gollum have their riddle game. Gollum resurrects one of his riddles: "Alive without breath; as cold as death; never thirsting, ever drinking; clad in mail, never clinking" (253). It continues a few more lines, though I feel that is as far as it goes when it is in The Hobbit. Of course, I cannot check, being that I am in school, but we'll pretend. I'll throw in an edit if I ever remember. For the record, I didn't guess that riddle either. I got zero percent of the riddles asked, except for the 'dark' one. But yeah... I just thought that was cool... Gollum even says "'Baggins guessed it'" (253).
Sam, like I said, made me incredibly mad in this book. He was incredibly mean to Gollum. Okay, so Gollum was kind of a slimy little jerk. But he's such a pitiable character! But, I momentarily forgave Sam at one point because he talks about how much he'd like to see 'oliphaunts', of course, elephants. And he stands up and says a little poem and it's just another 'Hobbits are so cute can I just marry them all' moment.
Okay, scene coming up is long, three or four pages long, so I will fracture it as much as I possibly can. Marky Mark read it to us in class, and it's probably the best scene of the book. His point was, well, one was, that Sam and Frodo sort of 'step out' of the story and comment upon it. "'The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have just been landed in them, usually--their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on--and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. you know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same--like old Mr Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?... Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours. But that's a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it--and the Silmaril went on and came to Earendil... You've got some of the light of it in the star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we're in the same tale still! It's going on. Don't the great tales ever end?' 'No, they never end as tales,' said Frodo. 'But the people in them come, and go when their part's ended. Our part will end later--or sooner'" (363). I believe the word I'd use to describe this bit is 'fascinating'. Very... comfortable, if you get my meaning. Like you're there with them, really there, like when I was kid and I'd read books and pretend I was some extra character added in, the main character's little sister or some such. Only there's no need for this, because you're actually there with Sam and Frodo, listening.
"'Still, I wonder if we shall ever be put into songs or tales. We're in one, of course; but I mean: put into words, you know, told by the fireside, or read out of a great big book with red and black letters, years and years afterwards. And people will say: 'Let's hear about Frodo and the Ring!' And they'll say: 'Yes, that's one of my favorite stories. Frodo was very brave, wasn't he, dad?' 'Yes, my boy, the famousest of the hobbits, and that's saying a lot.' 'It's saying a lot too much, said Frodo, and he laughed, a long clear laugh from the heart... 'But you've left out one of the chief characters: Samwise the stouthearted. 'I want to hear more about Sam, dad. Why didn't they put in more of his talk, dad? That's what I like, it makes me laugh. And Frodo wouldn't have got far without Sam, would he, dad?'" (363).
"'Why, even Gollum might be good in a tale, better than he is to have by you, anyway. And he used to like tales himself once, by his own account. I wonder if he thinks he's the hero or the villain? Gollum!' he called. 'Would you like to be the hero--now where's he got to again?'" (364). Again, just an interesting little note, that sort of leads into my next bit: Gollum's chance for redemption, a scene quite upsetting and makes me have a bipolar Mansfield Park-ish relationship with Sam. Fact about it: Tolkien actually wept while he wrote it.
So, the scene before is Sam is complaining to Frodo about Gollum, and speaking his paranoia unto him, that he is scared Gollum will come back and find them sleeping and try to kill them because he wants his Precious back. So Sam promises to protect Frodo, and Frodo uses Sam as a pillow to sleep, and of course Sam nods off as well, and Gollum comes back from hunting to see both of them: "Sam sat propped against the stone, his head dropping sideways and his breathing heavy. In his lap lay Frodo's head, drowned deep in sleep; upon his white forehead lay one of Sam's brown hands... Peace was in both their faces. Gollum looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back up the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very cautiously he touched Frodo's knee--but almost the touch was a caress. For a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing. But at that touch Frodo stirred and cried out softly in his sleep, and immediately Sam was wide awake. The first thing he saw was Gollum--'pawing at master,' as he thought. 'Hey you!' he said roughly. 'What are you up to?' 'Nothing, nothing,' said Gollum softly. 'Nice master!' 'I daresay,' said Sam. 'But where have you been to--sneaking off and sneaking back, you old villain?' Gollum withdrew himself, and a green glint flickered under his heavy lids. Almost spider-like he looked now, crouched back on his bent limbs, with his protruding eyes. The fleeting moment had passed, beyond recall" (366). Thus, Gollum can't be redeemed and it is inevitable that he will betray them. It really is a heartrending scene (I have only given you what is the most important part, not the whole thing).
"'It's a trap!' said Sam" (371). Should have listened to Admiral Ackbar.
One thing I don't understand is when Gollum first leads the hobbits to Shelob, the giant spider. "In past days [Gollum] had bowed and worshiped her, and the darkness of her evil will walked through all the ways of his weariness beside him, cutting him off from light and from regret. And he had promised to bring her food" (376). I don't--is it saying that he worshiped her? Strangely enough, loved her? When would they have met? How? Why wouldn't she have eaten him right off? Not enough meat on his bones? Perhaps Marky Mark can solve this mystery.
Anyway. I'm rather excited to read the next book, which should attest to how good this and the first were. I'm totally in love with this series. My dorkiness, like Saruman's evil, does nothing but expand. Also, I figured out how to change the timestamp on posts, so that's cool and all.
EDIT: Marky Mark, believe it or not, is not the Oracle of Delphi and does not know everything. However, his theory on why Shelob didn't eat Gollum is the same as mine (he actually used the same phrase as I did--in that there wasn't "enough meat on his bones"). Gollum was really thankful in his dog like pawing way and promised he'd bring her food, and now it's finally being fulfilled. (Marky Mark didn't have a clear answer as to exactly when they first met, just when Gollum went to Mordor for the first time, because apparently he did?) So... yeah... that's... that's about it, there. Yup.
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