I was gripped with a sudden urge, while wandering drunkenly through the library (truth?), to reread HG Well's awesome book--it's a little less awesome now than it was four or five years ago (what, is that even real), but it's still good. Better than the Autocracy of Mr Parham. Always better than that. Anything would be better than that.
Anyways, this is the first time machine story ever written. (Well, the first well-known one in any case. Shush.) That has never hit me before reading it this one time--I was reading the section where the Victorian men were trying to puzzle out how the time machine could move back in time if they had never seen it in their friend's room before. Finally it occurs to one of them that it moves at super speed or whatever as it goes back, and whatever else. It has never occurred to me before that someone could take the idea of time travel for granted, but I clearly had. All the late Victorian and turn-of-the-century people probably basically peed themselves when they read this. Also, I think that it's hilarious that the psychologist is the one who eventually figures out the super speed thing.
Oh, but the story itself--the pioneering scientist travels into the feature which has resulted from people attaining utopia, and then devolving in light of the easy life. The working class went underground and became gross ape-like monsters who feed on the upper class people, who have devolved into child-like creatures that aren't very bright. My next note has to do with this--you see, I've read a lot of studies that accredit human brain development to the fact that we started eating more and more meat because we figured out how to cook it and not die. All of these people ate fruit exclusively. Maybe HG Wells didn't do this intentionally, or did this just to contrast their purity with the Morlocks' cannibalistic evils, but still, that would definitely have an affect on their brain power and bodies. So... so yeah. It's also a bad idea to raise a kid (until age five or six, but even then it's questionable) on a strictly vegetarian diet because of the damage that can do. (HG Wells also mentions that they're all incredibly weak and light, so that's probably a super protein deficiency.)
Also, when he explains their diet he talks about how all cows and sheep and everything seemed to go extinct. Okay, HG Wells. Sure. That makes oodles of sense. Why bring it up other than to complain? Well, what he actually says is is that they "followed the Icthyosaurus into extinction" (Wells 32). Hehe. Awesome.
Eventually the time travelling narrator befriends one of the future non-Morlock humanoids. He saves her from drowning--while swimming or playing in a stream she gets a cramp and the moderate current picks her up and takes her away. Her fellows basically ignore her and leave her for dead, so the narrator dives in after her and rescues her. She falls in love with him immediately (which, of course, he doesn't understand--he believes for almost the entirety of their friendship that it was just a childish affection) and follows him everywhere. At first she annoys him, because "'I had not, I told myself, come into the future to carry on a miniature flirtation'" (Wells 54). It's funny because flirtations are considered minor or miniature (as compared to, say, romance or dating or getting married, because it was the Victorian era and getting married was your only option then), and because Weena (the girl) is no more than four feet fall... Ahhh, oh you, HG Wells!
Oh yeah, I always forget that the non-Morlocks are the Eloi, probably because HG Wells only mentions it once. It means "chosen" in Latin (although one of the baby naming sites it was one says it has Latin and French origins which doesn't really make sense since they developed at different speeds and times...?), which would make sense if these people were supposed to be the privileged upper class. The French saint of metalworking (no lie) is Saint Eloi. There doesn't seem to be a clear meaning behind the name Morlock, but apparently HG Wells wrote a quasi-prequel to this book (by quasi-prequel I mean one of his books is set a few centuries into the future and makes intimations that certain groups will develop into the Morlocks eventually. I wonder if HG Wells really believed that the way HP Lovecraft believed Asian people really would take over the world), which might have some clues in it...?
HG Wells also eventually figures out the true nature and relationship of the Eloi and Morlocks. He realizes that the Eloi are the main food source of the Morlocks and that explains all of their weird nighttime behaviour. I think he gives the Morlocks too much credit, though. He says the Eloi are akin to fatted cattle, which the Morlocks "'preserved and preyed upon--probably saw to the breeding of''" (Wells 80). The Morlocks are clearly more advanced physically than the Eloi, and more advanced mentally because being a predator obviously requires a more complex system of thought, but I don't think they're smart enough to control breeding and preservation and all of that. I think they're very much like cavemen--knowing where the prey is, and how much there ought to be, but beyond that, not really having a good idea of what's going on. (But just wait until Equality discovers electricity!) Though saying the Eloi are akin to fatted cattle is appropriate in what a fatted cattle is, that also automatically brings up the image of farming, which is definitely inappropriate for this situation.
...Also, now that I think of it, what happened to all the people every part of the world that's not London?
My next bit comes when... when that guy who I almost called the Doctor but most definitely is NOT the Doctor realizes he can scare the Morlocks with fire--he gets so excited he tells Weena (the Eloi female) to dance and he dances with her: "'It part it was a modest can-can, in part a step dance, in part a skirt dance (so far as my tail-coat permitted), and in part original. For I am naturally inventive, as you know'" (Wells 87). At first I was like woaaah, ego! But then I remembered that he made a whole damn time machine, so maybe he should be allowed to brag a bit.
Anyways. He finds his time machine again, and Weena is killed due to his foolishness with the Morlocks--something I apparently misunderstood when I read it all 5,000 times in middle school. You see, I always thought she was simply stolen away, and that's why the time traveler goes back--to try and save her. The book ends--well, this edition has an epilogue, which for whatever reason my edition was bereft of--with the time traveler becoming determined to prove that the traveling occurred to our narrator who parrots back everything the traveler said in verbatim. The time traveler goes back in time, and the narrator tells us that he vanished three years ago and never returned. I kind of like it better when he's going back to save Weena and gets killed instead, instead of just trying to prove himself, but whatever. I'm not the one writing classic sci-fi novels at the turn of the century... Yet.
The epilogue is also a little too optimistic--basically the narrator is saying that the traveler could still be alive wandering the future or past, and that the future saw can be changed, and at least love and tenderness still lived on in the Eloi. It was probably to calm down all the Victorian people, who were probably smoking their smelling salts at that point in an effort to not vomit on everything, but... But ugh! It's so lame! It ruins the creepy implications of it! Stupid Victorians and their fear of absolutely everything. Anyways. Other than the lame-butt epilogue, this is Twilight Zone-worthy. No, I don't care that it predates the Twilight Zone by like seventy (woah, really!??) years.
MLA Citation information: Wells, HG. The Time Machine. Robert Bentley, Inc: United States of America, 1895. (Sorry, this one of those books that are definitely from the mid forties to mid fifties that don't feel like putting legitimate information in their books, which I guess doesn't really matter since this is all public domain and everything.)
I also started reading the Sandman comics by Neil Gaiman. I read a spin-off series (Death: At Death's Door by Jill somebody, which I'm thinking is her specific take on all the events that occurred during the Sandman comics--though I'm not sure because it's only one volume... And I'm only one volume into Sandman.) and a spin-off of that spin-off (The Dead Boy Detectives) which sucks HARDCORE. I read Preludes & Nocturnes... I'm not sure if it was a prequel series made after the original series or what, but I jumped into it okay. There wasn't a huge learning curve, even if Martian Manhunter and the Scarecrow make appearances (yep). The only other related book was Dream Country, which is a collection of random quasi-related stories... That was good, though. Plus you get to see Morpheus wearing a ruff, sooo...
But yeah. I like the series so far, but unfortunately my access to it is limited until the summer (or maybe spring break, if I'm really lucky--shut up I don't have a life at all). The local library has only these two volumes (I believe), the school library only has The League of Extraordinary Gentleman (I tried reading it again but it's just so baaaaad), and my library at home only has the aforementioned spin-offs. Soo I'll keep you updated. But it's cool. Very cool.
I read JD Salinger's Nine Stories, too. I can't do a whole post for that--I don't really like focusing on short story collections. His stories are always all right, and always seem to be constructed okay, if not really well--but the ends are just... just failed. Talk about going out with a bang instead of a whimper. I can never quite follow them, for example, "A Perfect Day For Bananafish" starts out with the girl talking to her mother on the phone about her boyfriend, then it goes to the boyfriend who's being kind of creepy on the beach in a robe talking to young girls (yeah, I thought pedophile--even before it mentioned the girls, it was the robe that made me suspicious), who then shoots himself. It ends with him going into the room where she is sleeping and him loading up a gun a then shooting himself. I... What? What, because the little girl ran away before they were done talking or whatever? What? The next story does a lot of Holden Caulfield "I mean it--I mean I mean it" stuff that makes me want to pull my hair out.
The Esme story is in here too, and it's probably my favourite. Well, half of it is. Half of it is a little slice of life sort of deal, he meets a girl named Esme while in England during the war. Esme asks him to write her a story, and the second half of that story is presumably it? I'm not sure. But he's very good at presenting slice of lifes, just bad at making them do things. On the plus side, he writes about Connecticut all the time, and that's always exciting for me.
Anyways, these stories are more himself than anything else. All stories and art and music is the creator in some way, but these are a psychological study more than anything else. They are way more telling about Salinger's mental mechanisms than they are about anything else, I feel like. And I'm not just saying it because of all the analyzing in his daughter's book. I don't even really remember what she said, other than that she mentioned "Bananafish" a lot. But if you're interested in Salinger's mind, I'd suggest it. If you're kind of lukewarm on him, like me, you might not really be interested in this as much. Salinger's style in these stories isn't nearly as grating as Catcher in the Rye, but I still got bored quickly.
Wow, long post. I'm rereading Crabwalk, but I'm not going to write anything for it because I hate it even more this time around. Oops...
(Also, spellchecker has decided to peace out for this post, so sorry if I missed anything.)
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
This is Not Your City by Caitlin Horrocks
Woah, what? A book written in the past five years? Yeah, check it: 2011. There was something about the cover of this book that really attracted me. And I'm glad it did--this is a really good book. It's a collection of short stories by the authoress (sorry, I wanted to call her that, and technically it's a real world) Caitlin Horrocks, who I've never heard of before. She's good, though, and pretty young--she was born in 1980. One of her stories seemed familiar, but I'm pretty sure I had never read any of them prior to this (though it is possible; she published them all in separate magazines and such before this book's publication).
The stories are all very intriguing, including the ones that I would say are "misses". I would definitely buy this book in a heartbeat, if I weren't a poor college student, that is. My favourite story is about a woman--man--soul--who has been reborn, reincarnated, whatever, 127 times. She can recognize the reincarnated souls in other people she has known over her past lives... including that of a mother who drowned her as an infant. The catch? Ooh, I'm going to spoil it. But it's so good, I've got to spoil it--in this life she is pregnant, and her baby has the reincarnated soul of that mother. I really, really, really want to spoil the end--but I guess I won't. Not yet, at least. There's a story about a teacher who takes out her aggression on her students-not necessarily violent aggression, just... Just weird. Twisted. Some kind of abuse, but I'm not certain what the title of that sort of abuse would be. There's a story about a girl whose mother has extreme arthritis--she has to wash her, clean her, and so on... And she's going to college (or maybe she's a senior in high school; she's an awful writer) and all of that, but it's an essay in an effort to save her grades and pass the year, or at least the semester. The implication is that she's failing because her mother is eating so much of her time. Soooo. Interested yet? Let's go!
The first story I had anything in was actually the second story, "It Looks Like This", the last one I just described. ("Zolaria" is good too, but I spent it adapting to Horrocks's style!) The narrator writes like she's in middle school, though she's in her senior year of high school, I believe. It's awful, the description of her mother. Having to wash her, take care of her completely--her sister left--plus she's only in middle school... That's awful. That's no way to grow up. It's striking particularly for that, trying to imagine yourself in that awful situation...
One of her best friends--or the person she feels closest to, rather, is an Amish woman (she lives in rural Ohio). I mention this because in the second page of the story there is this: "In the paper the other day, some guy said, 'Based primarily on the strength of local tourism, Ohio's rural communities are sinking or swimming.' My mom's the one who read it out to me, and she said, 'Sinking or swimming? This f--king town was built under water'" (Horrocks 16). The situation that our narrator is in would seem to indicate sinking, and at the end of the 'paper', assures the narrator that she was "'built for swimming'" (Horrocks 28). It was very sweet.
The next story that I've got anything for is "Zero Conditional". This is the one about the oddly abusive teacher. It's not... like I said, it's not quite sexual, physical, or mental... It's like when you have a nasty teacher, and they're very small and they take it out on you or your classmates. It's the closest I can get to that. For example: they have this gross classroom rat (a pet!) that is slowly dying of a tumour. She makes her least favourite student, who she just straight-up hates (let's be honest) touch it as punishment. Rub his hand on it. I think we can all agree that that's messed up, but it's hard to explain how much so, right?
On the teacher: "But Eril was a woman without great talents, forced to pride herself on small, unexpected skills, like the way she could untangle knots, hold her breath for two and a half minutes, or the way she'd taught herself in sixth grade to balance things on her head the way women did in third world countries or finishing schools. She still practiced sometimes, unloading groceries and balancing a twelve-pack of die soda on the top of her head, plastic bags in each hand" (Horrocks 50-51). This is the way I feel sometimes. I mean--not exactly the same way, but I can relate to it, you know?
Anyways, that's the only thing I have to point out about that story...
She also has a sister. They grew up in poor conditions, but the sister went on to go to college and is studying bio. She has a boyfriend with a business major who presumably isn't falling apart at the seams, as well. My first note has to do with her--she (Mouse) always signs her letters to her sister with "Love and Squalor, Mouse" (Horrocks 75). This is, of course, a reference to JD Salinger's short story, "For Esme--With Love and Squalor". Our narrator is certainly drowning in squalor (and love, I suppose), but I don't know how far the similarities reach. I still haven't read it yet. Anyways. The narrator gets that her sister is joking, but she doesn't get the joke itself.
Anyways, the main meat of this story is that they go to pick up a dalmatian named Perdita (of course) that has been found, posing as the owners. Usually Leo doesn't give a damn for the dogs he has, but he lets her ride in the front of the truck, and pets her, really plays with her... Even the narrator likes her, and that's rare for her. The narrator even almost lets her free, because she spends her whole night howling. The narrator feels guilty, especially since she knows that eventually Perdita will eventually be turned into a puppy science experiment. She is about to let her out, but then she realizes that she doesn't want to disappoint Leo (or make him mad), how she'd probably just get lost and die, and make them lose money. So she doesn't do a thing--and then the narrative jumps; we discover that this was a retrospective from a month later. Perdita is gone, and the narrator is hoping that she's dead. And--here it is--the grossing thing ever: "[Leo's] skin thing is getting worse. He's got patches so bad they're swampy with fluid, where his shirts stick and scabs won't form... It's like he's molting into something new and horrible, and all I want to do is hold his skin together, press the seams of him together, so he won't fall apart and nothing in our lives will change" (Horrocks 89). She ends the story itself with a reference to her sister's joke, the reference to JD Salinger's existence: "If this is what I get in this world I'll take it. Love and squalor, but mostly love. I'll take it and I'll take it and I will not be sorry" (Horrocks 89). Tell me that's not messed up--or maybe it doesn't seem so because you haven't read the whole story, but trust me--it's messed up. Royally.
The next story is the reincarnation one I described above: "Embodied". If nothing else, look this story up. I'm sure it exists somewhere online, and I promise that it will make you want to reader the other stories. I actually don't have a lot to say about this--the concept itself is really cool, and it's just so perfect. Almost all of the stories in here wrap up into neat little boxes, and even when there isn't closure, it feels darned well like there is. I don't even want to spoil it... So I guess we'll go on to the next story, strangely enough, the only one which has a lack of closure that bothers me. The story takes place at a zoo--a woman is there with her son and grandfather. Her father is a bit like the father in Big Fish, something the woman resents him for. They have a kind of understanding at the end--but ultimately, it is a passing affection and understanding, and both she and her father know that when he goes back to his home, their relationship will be just as strained and disjointed as it has always been, and nothing will really change. Alternately, there is her inner monologue regarding her job at the patent office. She has been getting letters from a man who claims to have invented a time machine. He includes items in packages, such as a gravy boat from 1901, supposedly once on King Edward VII's table. He includes a washcloth that looks like one that was in the girl's house growing up... And the most recent package had a bolo tie. This tie (or a nearly identical tie) is mentioned in the grandfather's inner monologue, and supposedly his daughter knows nothing of it. The story ends with her finally deciding to call the number on the supposed time traveler's packages and patent applications. It obviously wasn't the father sending the packages, not even the bolo tie, so... it's just kind of there. I didn't get why. It didn't quite flesh it out. Other than that I liked it, though. It was kind of sad, but ultimately true, even if it was uncomfortable to admit it... Anyways. Why mention this story? What did I mark in it? Well...
"She has found herself looking, really looking, over the blueprints. The machine isn't familiar: not a DeLorean or Bill and Ted's phonebooth or Doctor Who's police box or any ships she recognizes from Star Trek or Star Wars or H.G. Wells. It is simply a smooth, metal tube, that does not seem, somehow, like something a crazy person would design" (Horrocks 111). Look at all those references. My nerdgasm cannot be contained. I do not even care if you are grossed out! Because you know you did too. (It was mostly for the Doctor Who reference, even if she botched it a little.)
Anyways, that's my last note or anything for this. I'm glad that I impulsively picked this up--it's worth it, and it's a relatively fast read. (It will probably be in your library's new or just arrived section, if your library has that sort of thing.) I believe all of the stories were published in magazines or newspapers as well, so you could even just look them up online, maybe. So... Yeah! HG Wells's The Time Machine will be next! (I didn't even do that on purpose, either.)
MLA Citation Information: Horrocks, Caitlin. This Is Not Your City. Sarabande Books: Kentucky, 2011.
The stories are all very intriguing, including the ones that I would say are "misses". I would definitely buy this book in a heartbeat, if I weren't a poor college student, that is. My favourite story is about a woman--man--soul--who has been reborn, reincarnated, whatever, 127 times. She can recognize the reincarnated souls in other people she has known over her past lives... including that of a mother who drowned her as an infant. The catch? Ooh, I'm going to spoil it. But it's so good, I've got to spoil it--in this life she is pregnant, and her baby has the reincarnated soul of that mother. I really, really, really want to spoil the end--but I guess I won't. Not yet, at least. There's a story about a teacher who takes out her aggression on her students-not necessarily violent aggression, just... Just weird. Twisted. Some kind of abuse, but I'm not certain what the title of that sort of abuse would be. There's a story about a girl whose mother has extreme arthritis--she has to wash her, clean her, and so on... And she's going to college (or maybe she's a senior in high school; she's an awful writer) and all of that, but it's an essay in an effort to save her grades and pass the year, or at least the semester. The implication is that she's failing because her mother is eating so much of her time. Soooo. Interested yet? Let's go!
The first story I had anything in was actually the second story, "It Looks Like This", the last one I just described. ("Zolaria" is good too, but I spent it adapting to Horrocks's style!) The narrator writes like she's in middle school, though she's in her senior year of high school, I believe. It's awful, the description of her mother. Having to wash her, take care of her completely--her sister left--plus she's only in middle school... That's awful. That's no way to grow up. It's striking particularly for that, trying to imagine yourself in that awful situation...
One of her best friends--or the person she feels closest to, rather, is an Amish woman (she lives in rural Ohio). I mention this because in the second page of the story there is this: "In the paper the other day, some guy said, 'Based primarily on the strength of local tourism, Ohio's rural communities are sinking or swimming.' My mom's the one who read it out to me, and she said, 'Sinking or swimming? This f--king town was built under water'" (Horrocks 16). The situation that our narrator is in would seem to indicate sinking, and at the end of the 'paper', assures the narrator that she was "'built for swimming'" (Horrocks 28). It was very sweet.
The next story that I've got anything for is "Zero Conditional". This is the one about the oddly abusive teacher. It's not... like I said, it's not quite sexual, physical, or mental... It's like when you have a nasty teacher, and they're very small and they take it out on you or your classmates. It's the closest I can get to that. For example: they have this gross classroom rat (a pet!) that is slowly dying of a tumour. She makes her least favourite student, who she just straight-up hates (let's be honest) touch it as punishment. Rub his hand on it. I think we can all agree that that's messed up, but it's hard to explain how much so, right?
On the teacher: "But Eril was a woman without great talents, forced to pride herself on small, unexpected skills, like the way she could untangle knots, hold her breath for two and a half minutes, or the way she'd taught herself in sixth grade to balance things on her head the way women did in third world countries or finishing schools. She still practiced sometimes, unloading groceries and balancing a twelve-pack of die soda on the top of her head, plastic bags in each hand" (Horrocks 50-51). This is the way I feel sometimes. I mean--not exactly the same way, but I can relate to it, you know?
Anyways, that's the only thing I have to point out about that story...
She also has a sister. They grew up in poor conditions, but the sister went on to go to college and is studying bio. She has a boyfriend with a business major who presumably isn't falling apart at the seams, as well. My first note has to do with her--she (Mouse) always signs her letters to her sister with "Love and Squalor, Mouse" (Horrocks 75). This is, of course, a reference to JD Salinger's short story, "For Esme--With Love and Squalor". Our narrator is certainly drowning in squalor (and love, I suppose), but I don't know how far the similarities reach. I still haven't read it yet. Anyways. The narrator gets that her sister is joking, but she doesn't get the joke itself.
Anyways, the main meat of this story is that they go to pick up a dalmatian named Perdita (of course) that has been found, posing as the owners. Usually Leo doesn't give a damn for the dogs he has, but he lets her ride in the front of the truck, and pets her, really plays with her... Even the narrator likes her, and that's rare for her. The narrator even almost lets her free, because she spends her whole night howling. The narrator feels guilty, especially since she knows that eventually Perdita will eventually be turned into a puppy science experiment. She is about to let her out, but then she realizes that she doesn't want to disappoint Leo (or make him mad), how she'd probably just get lost and die, and make them lose money. So she doesn't do a thing--and then the narrative jumps; we discover that this was a retrospective from a month later. Perdita is gone, and the narrator is hoping that she's dead. And--here it is--the grossing thing ever: "[Leo's] skin thing is getting worse. He's got patches so bad they're swampy with fluid, where his shirts stick and scabs won't form... It's like he's molting into something new and horrible, and all I want to do is hold his skin together, press the seams of him together, so he won't fall apart and nothing in our lives will change" (Horrocks 89). She ends the story itself with a reference to her sister's joke, the reference to JD Salinger's existence: "If this is what I get in this world I'll take it. Love and squalor, but mostly love. I'll take it and I'll take it and I will not be sorry" (Horrocks 89). Tell me that's not messed up--or maybe it doesn't seem so because you haven't read the whole story, but trust me--it's messed up. Royally.
The next story is the reincarnation one I described above: "Embodied". If nothing else, look this story up. I'm sure it exists somewhere online, and I promise that it will make you want to reader the other stories. I actually don't have a lot to say about this--the concept itself is really cool, and it's just so perfect. Almost all of the stories in here wrap up into neat little boxes, and even when there isn't closure, it feels darned well like there is. I don't even want to spoil it... So I guess we'll go on to the next story, strangely enough, the only one which has a lack of closure that bothers me. The story takes place at a zoo--a woman is there with her son and grandfather. Her father is a bit like the father in Big Fish, something the woman resents him for. They have a kind of understanding at the end--but ultimately, it is a passing affection and understanding, and both she and her father know that when he goes back to his home, their relationship will be just as strained and disjointed as it has always been, and nothing will really change. Alternately, there is her inner monologue regarding her job at the patent office. She has been getting letters from a man who claims to have invented a time machine. He includes items in packages, such as a gravy boat from 1901, supposedly once on King Edward VII's table. He includes a washcloth that looks like one that was in the girl's house growing up... And the most recent package had a bolo tie. This tie (or a nearly identical tie) is mentioned in the grandfather's inner monologue, and supposedly his daughter knows nothing of it. The story ends with her finally deciding to call the number on the supposed time traveler's packages and patent applications. It obviously wasn't the father sending the packages, not even the bolo tie, so... it's just kind of there. I didn't get why. It didn't quite flesh it out. Other than that I liked it, though. It was kind of sad, but ultimately true, even if it was uncomfortable to admit it... Anyways. Why mention this story? What did I mark in it? Well...
"She has found herself looking, really looking, over the blueprints. The machine isn't familiar: not a DeLorean or Bill and Ted's phonebooth or Doctor Who's police box or any ships she recognizes from Star Trek or Star Wars or H.G. Wells. It is simply a smooth, metal tube, that does not seem, somehow, like something a crazy person would design" (Horrocks 111). Look at all those references. My nerdgasm cannot be contained. I do not even care if you are grossed out! Because you know you did too. (It was mostly for the Doctor Who reference, even if she botched it a little.)
Anyways, that's my last note or anything for this. I'm glad that I impulsively picked this up--it's worth it, and it's a relatively fast read. (It will probably be in your library's new or just arrived section, if your library has that sort of thing.) I believe all of the stories were published in magazines or newspapers as well, so you could even just look them up online, maybe. So... Yeah! HG Wells's The Time Machine will be next! (I didn't even do that on purpose, either.)
MLA Citation Information: Horrocks, Caitlin. This Is Not Your City. Sarabande Books: Kentucky, 2011.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Neuromancer by William Gibson
This post won't be helpful at all.
This book was not my most favourite thing ever. It was recommended highly to me, but it just wasn't for me. It was like Crichton on the strongest, most hopped-up steroids possible, and it just moved too quickly for me. Also, the parts I could follow reminded me of the movie The Lawnmower Man, which is never a good sign (Stephen King sued so his name would not be associated with it. That's how bad it was).
Anyways, it's set in the future. A future where computer upgrades to oneself or plastic surgery is not only successful, but cheap as hell. One girl had surgically inserted retractable (and small) razorblades under her fingernails, another has "mirrored eyes", which give the eye a Terminator-esque readout. (Her ducts were relocated to lead to her mouth, so if she ever had to cry she would just spit the tears instead.) That sort of thing. Also they fix the main character's--Case's--liver so he can't get high off pills or whatever when he ingests them. Alcohol also no longer affects him. Oh, and you can back up your memory on hard drives and such. And there's the Matrix, which is an actual computer thing and not something made up for Keanu Reeves (in case if you didn't know--my dad's a programmer and whenever he messes a code and can't figure it out, I suggest that there could be a glitch in the matrix. He's never seen the movie).
The main character is unable to connect to the matrix because something I don't understand was messed up in his head and other stuff, so he is an alcoholic, a junky, and a hustler who just sort of floats around.
And that's it. That's basically where I lost the story. I know that sounds pathetic, but I just couldn't follow it around. And I couldn't even follow the end. It's actually kind of depressing. I felt depressed after it ended and realizing I couldn't even get that. Complicated sci-fi futures are a lot easier in comic book form, like Akira (awesome, if you haven't ever read that).
So... These are just some parts I liked, or whatever. Sorry that I've been doing this so poorly lately, but not really because chances are no-one actually reads this anymore, sooo I win.
The first one is when some thug--"the Flatline"--describes himself as "'them huge f--kin' lizards, you know? Had themself two goddamn brains, one in the head an' one by the tailbone, kept the hind legs movin'. Hit that black stuff and ol' tailbrain jus' kept right on keepin' on'" (Gibson 78). He's referring to stegosauruses.
"'One burning bush looks pretty much like another'" (Gibson 173). I can't give much of a context to this, but it seems pretty much like Case is being warned about communicating with the wrong person. It was just something that jumped out at me in a big mass of what. I can't give context. On anything anymore. I'm full of Chinese food and kind of woozy--wait, I can finish this. I swear.
The thing that confused me the most was probably the end. Normally I can pretend to make logic out of an end, even when I can't follow the story itself, but I was just confused and sad and thinking about Lawnmower Man. He finds a new girlfriend that's not Molly--who was somehow the catalyst of this book or something--and has a job writing software or something. He sees another woman--Linda (????) and someone with his arm around Linda that--lo and behold, is him. The Wikipedia summary doesn't even address this or really explain it, unless if I didn't even understand that, which is entirely possible. I am the worst book blogger ever.
MLA citation information: Gibson, Wiiliam. Neuromancer. Ace Books: New York, 1984.
PS. I've started rereading Akira. Awesome!
This book was not my most favourite thing ever. It was recommended highly to me, but it just wasn't for me. It was like Crichton on the strongest, most hopped-up steroids possible, and it just moved too quickly for me. Also, the parts I could follow reminded me of the movie The Lawnmower Man, which is never a good sign (Stephen King sued so his name would not be associated with it. That's how bad it was).
Anyways, it's set in the future. A future where computer upgrades to oneself or plastic surgery is not only successful, but cheap as hell. One girl had surgically inserted retractable (and small) razorblades under her fingernails, another has "mirrored eyes", which give the eye a Terminator-esque readout. (Her ducts were relocated to lead to her mouth, so if she ever had to cry she would just spit the tears instead.) That sort of thing. Also they fix the main character's--Case's--liver so he can't get high off pills or whatever when he ingests them. Alcohol also no longer affects him. Oh, and you can back up your memory on hard drives and such. And there's the Matrix, which is an actual computer thing and not something made up for Keanu Reeves (in case if you didn't know--my dad's a programmer and whenever he messes a code and can't figure it out, I suggest that there could be a glitch in the matrix. He's never seen the movie).
The main character is unable to connect to the matrix because something I don't understand was messed up in his head and other stuff, so he is an alcoholic, a junky, and a hustler who just sort of floats around.
And that's it. That's basically where I lost the story. I know that sounds pathetic, but I just couldn't follow it around. And I couldn't even follow the end. It's actually kind of depressing. I felt depressed after it ended and realizing I couldn't even get that. Complicated sci-fi futures are a lot easier in comic book form, like Akira (awesome, if you haven't ever read that).
So... These are just some parts I liked, or whatever. Sorry that I've been doing this so poorly lately, but not really because chances are no-one actually reads this anymore, sooo I win.
The first one is when some thug--"the Flatline"--describes himself as "'them huge f--kin' lizards, you know? Had themself two goddamn brains, one in the head an' one by the tailbone, kept the hind legs movin'. Hit that black stuff and ol' tailbrain jus' kept right on keepin' on'" (Gibson 78). He's referring to stegosauruses.
"'One burning bush looks pretty much like another'" (Gibson 173). I can't give much of a context to this, but it seems pretty much like Case is being warned about communicating with the wrong person. It was just something that jumped out at me in a big mass of what. I can't give context. On anything anymore. I'm full of Chinese food and kind of woozy--wait, I can finish this. I swear.
The thing that confused me the most was probably the end. Normally I can pretend to make logic out of an end, even when I can't follow the story itself, but I was just confused and sad and thinking about Lawnmower Man. He finds a new girlfriend that's not Molly--who was somehow the catalyst of this book or something--and has a job writing software or something. He sees another woman--Linda (????) and someone with his arm around Linda that--lo and behold, is him. The Wikipedia summary doesn't even address this or really explain it, unless if I didn't even understand that, which is entirely possible. I am the worst book blogger ever.
MLA citation information: Gibson, Wiiliam. Neuromancer. Ace Books: New York, 1984.
PS. I've started rereading Akira. Awesome!
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