This is a pretend retrospective, mostly because I finished it a few weeks ago and didn't feel like taping it to the end of the Camus post. This is going to be short.
First off, this is a good series. The only thing I've ever read by Gaiman that I wasn't really in love with was Stardust, to be honest. I've mentioned smidgens here and there about the other volumes, I think--well, the series wraps itself up perfectly. And I mean, perfectly. It's kind of like... Like a panel out of Watchmen. The one I'm thinking of is in the sort-of epilogue, when the first Silk Spectre is making tea while The Outer Limits is just opening on the TV. Her daughter and the second Night Owl come to the door with the hair dyed and such... And all the panels are synced to the opening of the TV show ("Do not attempt to adjust your TV set..." etc), the steam is acting with it, the actions and items in the background work with it--even Silk Spectre's struggle to recognize her daughter works with it. It is so ridiculous how detailed and perfect it is--that's what the whole series is like. You may not necessarily notice every perfect intersecting detail, but it's all there at the end. That alone is a good reason to read it, I mean, really.
But it is good in its own right. I mean... I don't know what to say other than what I have already. If you like comic books and like Neil Gaiman, read it. It will appeal to people who enjoy fantasy books, mythology books... Gaiman himself describes it as horror, and it is kind of dark, but... I don't know. When I think horror I either think of something like the Alien movies, or something like a psychological horror, you know. This did not strike me as being either of those, though there are some disturbing ideas presented here and there, I suppose...
Oh, and there's a companion to the series by Hy Bender that is mostly interviews with Gaiman, and that is amazing. The first few chapters are rubbish--"Why read a comic book?"--in my personal opinion, if you're asking yourself that, then maybe you ought not be reading it at all, or even considering reading it. ...Buuuut, once he starts talking about the issues themselves, and presenting the Gaiman interviews, it is very interesting. Actually one of the coolest parts--other than overlooked details being pointed out, or realizing I was right about certain things, or Gaiman being Gaiman--is seeing how many characters were borrowed from long-forgotten DC comics. Lucien, Dream's librarian, Cain and Abel, Eve, Prez, the guy who believes he is the new Sandman after Dream was trapped (first volume, I'm pretty sure)... They're all borrowed from mostly failed comic lines by DC in the seventies. It's actually pretty crazy. I'd love to find those old comics and read them too, to see how they matched up, you know? (Especially Lucien's and Prez's.) Hm... I also wonder if Neil Gaiman intended his short story-turned-radio play-turned-comic book Murder Mysteries to sync in with this. I'm pretty sure that was written even after Hy Bender's Companion book was, though, so he does not mention it. (Murder Mysteries is about heaven--or the Silver City as it is known in Sandman--prior to Lucifer's fall, although Lucifer is not the main character. However, he leaves after the main events take place, and you see his original departure from heaven, though the main character leaves before Lucifer begins his assault.)
Hmmm... I guess that's it. Like I said, I don't have a lot to say--at least nothing particularly important... I'd urge you to read it, if again, you like fantasy, mythos, Neil Gaiman's other works... I highly doubt you'll be disappointed. But if that is not your thing, don't bother. I borrowed mine from the library out of convenience (and being flat broke), but actually, it's kind of funny... I just finished the series, and right after that Neil Gaiman announced on his Tumblr that a special edition box set of the series was being released for $125. In an alternate universe where I am not a flat-broke college student, I have preordered it and await its arrival in excitement.
(And if you're broke, no worries! This comic is popular and well-known enough for nearly any library to carry at least a few of its volumes! My college library even has the first two... Actually, I think it's two and four, or something like that. Well... You know what I mean.)
So yeah! Go read the series, it's good. Oh, and the spin-off comics aren't bad either, especially the ones by Jill Thompson--it's the spin-offs of the spin-offs you have to look out for (no thank you, Dead Boy Detectives!) And sorry that this wasn't more detailed. I don't have any volumes on me, and I read the whole series in a rather stilted fashion. So... Sorry.... (But this should only give you more incentive...)
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Stranger by Albert Camus
Today I woke up and thought, what would up my hipster street cred? Reading The Stranger by Albert Camus, which is surprisingly a very short book. This edition is about 119 pages, and the font is fairly large and widely-spaced. So it's an extremely quick read.
The book is also very simple in terms of how it is written. This could be due to the fact that it was translated from French, but also because according to the introductory notes, Camus was trying to imitate an "American" style: short sentences in the form of statements, thus making the story faster-paced, etc...
Anyways, it's so simple it feels natural--not in a directly-in-the-head Ulysses type deal, but in a "Oh, I can relate to this thought, or his overall detachedness, or this or that", without really trying. I know I've praised authors on this before, but this time by the end I got a little bored with it... Maybe because the main character lacked real emotion and empathy? I mean, he is the titular stranger. He's a stranger to the people around him, including family and his lover, as well as the whole human structure of government, society, and so on. But it hurts his appeal, although his numbed "surprise" at things is something I can relate to and probably most everyone can for certain situations. This lack of emotion also prevents certain catharsis from occurring. For example, the book starts when Meursalt learns of his mother's death. He goes to her rest home, stays at the vigil, goes to the funeral, and goes home--because you've just met him, you think he's in shock. But he's like that the whole time. He never really gets upset about his mom's death--I think that might be what bothers me the most. And that's one of his grievances, he gets pissed that people would be so upset over her death and cry over it because she lived happily. Which I can see--but it also feels fake and almost like a justification for him not feeling anything over his mother's death. I'm biased because I'm very close to my mother, but he just... to be so blase about it... It just agitates me.
...And I wouldn't ride on him putting his mother in a home or anything, and I think during the trial (I'll get to it later) it was messed up that everyone kept on focusing on that instead of what he was being tried for, but I mean... I mean... That's your mother. Okay, don't cry for her life, but I think he was looking at it through a narrow lens (see above). Cry for the fact that she is your mother and now she is gone and she should have meant something to you. I mean--is what I'm saying making sense, or...? Well, let's get on with it. Sorry about that big monster paragraph.
No... Just kidding. One more problem with the style. Because it's so--um--easy, for lack of a better word, it was hard for me to stay invested. By the end my eyes were just sliding over whole paragraphs. When the chaplain/priest/whatever the proper title for him would be showed up, I was just cruising because I knew that's when some huge revelation or something was going to come through, and I didn't like the main character enough or think he was a good enough character to find what he was saying worth my time. I mean, I could empathize with him sometimes, just kind of muddling through life, being surprised in a numb way at new situations and the passage of time, but... He just... I don't know, he didn't seem like a character who would have a lot of feelings or opinions on anything (other than the clear lust he feels for his girlfriend, you never get anything from him, really), so it was almost like he didn't deserve that emotional explosion at the end. And I've tried subsequently to go back and read it, but I can't focus well on it... Anyways, he still is kind of an asshole. There, I said it. Yeah, being a human isn't great, but that's no reason to turn into an insufferable jerk. His last paragraph of speech where he's yelling at the Chaplain (that actually spans a few pages) is just like some "mad at dad" middle schooler/early teenager. Oh you're so tough. Go buy a Nightmare Before Christmas t-shirt and read a... Well, read an Albert Camus book.
Oh man. Sorry for the rants. I didn't even hate the main character until I started writing this. But he is such a... Ugh, he makes me so mad, taking it all in in retrospect. So! Um--How did the main character end up in this situation with a chaplain? Well, I've already said that the book starts with his mother's death. The book starts out with him going to her funereal, and then coming back to work. Actually, he obsesses about having to ask his boss for days off and focuses on that more--just that weird obsession alone reminded me of Gregor Samsa, from Kafka's The Metamorphosis, but that connection goes away.
Anyways, like I said, he never mourns, but makes detached observations of life around him, mostly. For example: his two neighbours, one he probably genuinely cares about (probably, because it's damn hard to tell with him), and one who has a gross mange-y dog. The guy beats his dog all the time because it walks too fast or too slow for him, but he has real affection for the dog deep in his heart, and when it goes missing you see that. (Not saying you should beat your dog, though!) He also meets with a women who used to work with him that he was attracted to. They start having a mostly sexual relationship, which I think is a point brought up in court, or somebody freaks out about around then--that Meursalt would enter a sexual relationship (or a romantic one) so close to his mother's death. That's one thing I can defend him on, however: maybe, following his mother's death, he wanted to feel alive, needed in some way, wanted to revel in the life still around him... But in retrospect, it seems more like he was just kind of horny. Oops.
His neighbour that he cares about, Raymond, has a girlfriend who steps out on him, so he beats the tar out of her. He is not taken into custody because it is the 1940's, but over the next few days he notices that the girl's brother and several of his "Arab" friends start tailing him. When Raymond and Meursalt are together at a friend's beach house, they accidentally come across this group--they attack Raymond with knives and fists and he is injured. Meursalt, later, goes back to the same place where they found the group and sees just the brother alone. He took Raymond's gun so Raymond would not do anything irrational following his assault--and ironically fires five shots into the brother, killing him, with no explanation, on a complete spur of the moment. You can pretend that he was doing it as payback for assaulting Raymond, or as a warning, but he claims the overwhelming heat made him do it, so...
So he is caught for his murder, found guilty and put into jail. He has an appeal waiting, but it's pretty much known that it won't go through and he will be executed anyways. Get this, by guillotine! Apparently guillotines were used for death sentences in France until 1981. Damn, France.
So yeah. There's a pretend ambiguous ending, but the ending is pretty much sorted out. I know Blogger doesn't give the reader any concept of how posts are being written, or the time frame in which they are written, but I took a day's break between writing the above and what I'm writing now. I think my main problem with the theory that makes Meursalt (that life is just a random mixing of sensory feelings and emotions and such) is that that's not how people are. I mean you only have to be alive to know that that's not true, that people aren't like that (except, perhaps, if you have some sort of mental disability, but we are never given any hints that Meursalt should be seen in that way, even if he is the titular stranger and is seen by even himself as different from everyone else... I think to say something like that would be putting words in Camus's mouth).
So onto things I've noted from the book that I haven't mentioned already in my numerous angry rants!
First of all, the book starts off with a quote from the Medieval play Everyman, which I thought was a curious choice, mostly because it has been, for the most part, forgotten... (It's a passion play, or some other type whose popularity pretty much died once people realized they should bathe in their own waste, so it's not really common for a group to put this one on today...) But after reading I realized that the people who printed the edition of Camus's book are of Everyman's Library. Oooops. (If you're curious, the quote is "Everyman, I will go with thee, and be thy guide, in thy most need to go by thy side". Although I remember the general idea of the play, I don't remember who says this, and I don't want to go looking for the book that it is in at this very moment... I think it might be Everyman's Soul, or Knowledge or Wisdom or some other positive personification...)
I honestly don't have anything till Meursalt shoots the Arab halfway through the book (the book is divided as his life is: before and after the murder). Really, I talked about a lot of what I thought might be interesting to mention already... Anyways, here's the quote: "My whole being tensed and I squeezed my hand around the revolver. The trigger gave; I felt the smooth underside of the butt; and there, in that noise, sharp and deafening at the same time, is where it all started. I shook off the sweat and the sun. I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day, the exceptional silence of a beach where I'd been happy. Then I fired four more shots at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without a trace. And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness" (Camus 57). This is the part of the book that's the most skillfully written, in my opinion. Although looking at it again, the bullets lodging without a trace bothers me... Of course there were wounds left behind, unless the guy is made out of Jell-o...
The next part of the book comes right after this. Now, I borrowed this book from the library, and someone left behind a Post-it on the page for part two that says "Question everything that you believe to be true..." (Actually, this would make a great hipster photo...) When I just kind of flipped through the book prior to reading it I cam upon this page and was very intrigued, as I'd imagine anyone would be. Unfortunately... The book is kind of disappointing... And I would not connect it with the Post-it note's statement, either. Maybe that was the point of the book and I missed it, but it seems as though there are better books to put such a note in... That said, I will not be taking the note out.
In the courtroom Meursalt first refers to himself as a stranger or an outsider-looking-in (though, again, it is obvious he has really felt that way or was that to begin with), when he sees all the usual journalists and bailiffs and policemen greeting each other warmly... And then the jury and people observing are talking too... "...He gave the policeman a warm handshake. I noticed then that everyone was waving and exchanging greetings and talking, as if they were in a club where people are glad to find themselves among others from the same world. That is how I explained to myself the strange impression I had of being the odd man out, a kind of intruder" (Camus 81). I think this is the first time that he is consciously aware of that feeling which has existed even in his narrative--the feeling made apparent to him because of, or cemented by, the fact that he is actually detained from these people physically and because of his gained status as a criminal (a murderer, no less!).
Um... Let's see... My next note was in his sentence... "...The presiding judge told me in bizarre language that I was to have my head cut off in a public square in the name of the French people" (Camus 102). Note that it's "bizarre language" and not "a bizarre language". I missed that the first time and was very confused. (He probably meant "legalese", as it were...) But yeah. Guillotines! Like I said, used in France until 1981! Damn, France. Daaamn.
Um... Yeah. I already complained about the end, and the ideas behind it. My last thing to say regarding this was that it occurred to me to look up Meursalt's name in French. Meur means murderous, meurs means die, and salt is just salt (all according to Google translate. We have a French/English dictionary in the attic but... Yeah, that's not happening). So, did Camus put meaning behind his name on purpose? Maybe. Maybe it's just a common French name (or was in the early twentieth century). So that's it for me on Albert Camus's The Stranger!
MLA Citation information: Camus, Albert. The Stranger. Trans. Matthew Ward. Everyman's Library: United States, 1993.
The book is also very simple in terms of how it is written. This could be due to the fact that it was translated from French, but also because according to the introductory notes, Camus was trying to imitate an "American" style: short sentences in the form of statements, thus making the story faster-paced, etc...
Anyways, it's so simple it feels natural--not in a directly-in-the-head Ulysses type deal, but in a "Oh, I can relate to this thought, or his overall detachedness, or this or that", without really trying. I know I've praised authors on this before, but this time by the end I got a little bored with it... Maybe because the main character lacked real emotion and empathy? I mean, he is the titular stranger. He's a stranger to the people around him, including family and his lover, as well as the whole human structure of government, society, and so on. But it hurts his appeal, although his numbed "surprise" at things is something I can relate to and probably most everyone can for certain situations. This lack of emotion also prevents certain catharsis from occurring. For example, the book starts when Meursalt learns of his mother's death. He goes to her rest home, stays at the vigil, goes to the funeral, and goes home--because you've just met him, you think he's in shock. But he's like that the whole time. He never really gets upset about his mom's death--I think that might be what bothers me the most. And that's one of his grievances, he gets pissed that people would be so upset over her death and cry over it because she lived happily. Which I can see--but it also feels fake and almost like a justification for him not feeling anything over his mother's death. I'm biased because I'm very close to my mother, but he just... to be so blase about it... It just agitates me.
...And I wouldn't ride on him putting his mother in a home or anything, and I think during the trial (I'll get to it later) it was messed up that everyone kept on focusing on that instead of what he was being tried for, but I mean... I mean... That's your mother. Okay, don't cry for her life, but I think he was looking at it through a narrow lens (see above). Cry for the fact that she is your mother and now she is gone and she should have meant something to you. I mean--is what I'm saying making sense, or...? Well, let's get on with it. Sorry about that big monster paragraph.
No... Just kidding. One more problem with the style. Because it's so--um--easy, for lack of a better word, it was hard for me to stay invested. By the end my eyes were just sliding over whole paragraphs. When the chaplain/priest/whatever the proper title for him would be showed up, I was just cruising because I knew that's when some huge revelation or something was going to come through, and I didn't like the main character enough or think he was a good enough character to find what he was saying worth my time. I mean, I could empathize with him sometimes, just kind of muddling through life, being surprised in a numb way at new situations and the passage of time, but... He just... I don't know, he didn't seem like a character who would have a lot of feelings or opinions on anything (other than the clear lust he feels for his girlfriend, you never get anything from him, really), so it was almost like he didn't deserve that emotional explosion at the end. And I've tried subsequently to go back and read it, but I can't focus well on it... Anyways, he still is kind of an asshole. There, I said it. Yeah, being a human isn't great, but that's no reason to turn into an insufferable jerk. His last paragraph of speech where he's yelling at the Chaplain (that actually spans a few pages) is just like some "mad at dad" middle schooler/early teenager. Oh you're so tough. Go buy a Nightmare Before Christmas t-shirt and read a... Well, read an Albert Camus book.
Oh man. Sorry for the rants. I didn't even hate the main character until I started writing this. But he is such a... Ugh, he makes me so mad, taking it all in in retrospect. So! Um--How did the main character end up in this situation with a chaplain? Well, I've already said that the book starts with his mother's death. The book starts out with him going to her funereal, and then coming back to work. Actually, he obsesses about having to ask his boss for days off and focuses on that more--just that weird obsession alone reminded me of Gregor Samsa, from Kafka's The Metamorphosis, but that connection goes away.
Anyways, like I said, he never mourns, but makes detached observations of life around him, mostly. For example: his two neighbours, one he probably genuinely cares about (probably, because it's damn hard to tell with him), and one who has a gross mange-y dog. The guy beats his dog all the time because it walks too fast or too slow for him, but he has real affection for the dog deep in his heart, and when it goes missing you see that. (Not saying you should beat your dog, though!) He also meets with a women who used to work with him that he was attracted to. They start having a mostly sexual relationship, which I think is a point brought up in court, or somebody freaks out about around then--that Meursalt would enter a sexual relationship (or a romantic one) so close to his mother's death. That's one thing I can defend him on, however: maybe, following his mother's death, he wanted to feel alive, needed in some way, wanted to revel in the life still around him... But in retrospect, it seems more like he was just kind of horny. Oops.
His neighbour that he cares about, Raymond, has a girlfriend who steps out on him, so he beats the tar out of her. He is not taken into custody because it is the 1940's, but over the next few days he notices that the girl's brother and several of his "Arab" friends start tailing him. When Raymond and Meursalt are together at a friend's beach house, they accidentally come across this group--they attack Raymond with knives and fists and he is injured. Meursalt, later, goes back to the same place where they found the group and sees just the brother alone. He took Raymond's gun so Raymond would not do anything irrational following his assault--and ironically fires five shots into the brother, killing him, with no explanation, on a complete spur of the moment. You can pretend that he was doing it as payback for assaulting Raymond, or as a warning, but he claims the overwhelming heat made him do it, so...
So he is caught for his murder, found guilty and put into jail. He has an appeal waiting, but it's pretty much known that it won't go through and he will be executed anyways. Get this, by guillotine! Apparently guillotines were used for death sentences in France until 1981. Damn, France.
So yeah. There's a pretend ambiguous ending, but the ending is pretty much sorted out. I know Blogger doesn't give the reader any concept of how posts are being written, or the time frame in which they are written, but I took a day's break between writing the above and what I'm writing now. I think my main problem with the theory that makes Meursalt (that life is just a random mixing of sensory feelings and emotions and such) is that that's not how people are. I mean you only have to be alive to know that that's not true, that people aren't like that (except, perhaps, if you have some sort of mental disability, but we are never given any hints that Meursalt should be seen in that way, even if he is the titular stranger and is seen by even himself as different from everyone else... I think to say something like that would be putting words in Camus's mouth).
So onto things I've noted from the book that I haven't mentioned already in my numerous angry rants!
First of all, the book starts off with a quote from the Medieval play Everyman, which I thought was a curious choice, mostly because it has been, for the most part, forgotten... (It's a passion play, or some other type whose popularity pretty much died once people realized they should bathe in their own waste, so it's not really common for a group to put this one on today...) But after reading I realized that the people who printed the edition of Camus's book are of Everyman's Library. Oooops. (If you're curious, the quote is "Everyman, I will go with thee, and be thy guide, in thy most need to go by thy side". Although I remember the general idea of the play, I don't remember who says this, and I don't want to go looking for the book that it is in at this very moment... I think it might be Everyman's Soul, or Knowledge or Wisdom or some other positive personification...)
I honestly don't have anything till Meursalt shoots the Arab halfway through the book (the book is divided as his life is: before and after the murder). Really, I talked about a lot of what I thought might be interesting to mention already... Anyways, here's the quote: "My whole being tensed and I squeezed my hand around the revolver. The trigger gave; I felt the smooth underside of the butt; and there, in that noise, sharp and deafening at the same time, is where it all started. I shook off the sweat and the sun. I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day, the exceptional silence of a beach where I'd been happy. Then I fired four more shots at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without a trace. And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness" (Camus 57). This is the part of the book that's the most skillfully written, in my opinion. Although looking at it again, the bullets lodging without a trace bothers me... Of course there were wounds left behind, unless the guy is made out of Jell-o...
The next part of the book comes right after this. Now, I borrowed this book from the library, and someone left behind a Post-it on the page for part two that says "Question everything that you believe to be true..." (Actually, this would make a great hipster photo...) When I just kind of flipped through the book prior to reading it I cam upon this page and was very intrigued, as I'd imagine anyone would be. Unfortunately... The book is kind of disappointing... And I would not connect it with the Post-it note's statement, either. Maybe that was the point of the book and I missed it, but it seems as though there are better books to put such a note in... That said, I will not be taking the note out.
In the courtroom Meursalt first refers to himself as a stranger or an outsider-looking-in (though, again, it is obvious he has really felt that way or was that to begin with), when he sees all the usual journalists and bailiffs and policemen greeting each other warmly... And then the jury and people observing are talking too... "...He gave the policeman a warm handshake. I noticed then that everyone was waving and exchanging greetings and talking, as if they were in a club where people are glad to find themselves among others from the same world. That is how I explained to myself the strange impression I had of being the odd man out, a kind of intruder" (Camus 81). I think this is the first time that he is consciously aware of that feeling which has existed even in his narrative--the feeling made apparent to him because of, or cemented by, the fact that he is actually detained from these people physically and because of his gained status as a criminal (a murderer, no less!).
Um... Let's see... My next note was in his sentence... "...The presiding judge told me in bizarre language that I was to have my head cut off in a public square in the name of the French people" (Camus 102). Note that it's "bizarre language" and not "a bizarre language". I missed that the first time and was very confused. (He probably meant "legalese", as it were...) But yeah. Guillotines! Like I said, used in France until 1981! Damn, France. Daaamn.
Um... Yeah. I already complained about the end, and the ideas behind it. My last thing to say regarding this was that it occurred to me to look up Meursalt's name in French. Meur means murderous, meurs means die, and salt is just salt (all according to Google translate. We have a French/English dictionary in the attic but... Yeah, that's not happening). So, did Camus put meaning behind his name on purpose? Maybe. Maybe it's just a common French name (or was in the early twentieth century). So that's it for me on Albert Camus's The Stranger!
MLA Citation information: Camus, Albert. The Stranger. Trans. Matthew Ward. Everyman's Library: United States, 1993.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Ah--the sequel to The Hunger Games. I didn't like this one as much, but it's not a bad book. It just didn't strike me in quite the same way (though it did have me flipping through the later pages and reading random sentences... Not sure what to make of my reaction? Well, it meets Stephanie Meyer's "high expectations". Oh yeah--on the back of the book there is a quote of praise from Stephanie Meyer: "It not only lived up to my high expectations, it surpassed them. Stunning". You know who has no right to have high expectations or any expectations of anything at all? The author (authoress?) of the Twilight saga.
Anyways. This is set following the original games--Katniss and Peeta's actions have sparked many rebellions--for example, the third district is completely out of commission, the eighth district had be controlled... and the Capitol is keeping an eye on them. Collins does a very good job of illustrating the tension between Katniss and the Capitol--instead of just describing the idea of Big Brother, she makes the reader feel like they're the ones being scrutinized. Of course, it helps that the book is from Katniss's point of view... But still. It's very eerie.
Now, the Capitol wants to get back at Katniss specifically for essentially making them look like fools. This upcoming year is also the seventy-fifth year of the games. Every twenty-five years the games are "special" versions, known as Quarter Quells--in these there are one or more major twists on the game that year--for the seventy-fifth, those chosen for the games are chosen from each district's pool of winners. Katniss, of course, is the only female winner from her district. More twists are the incredible difficult and twisted challenges of the arena--it's set up like a clock, and... I didn't quite get how this worked, exactly, but if you were in the four o'clock area at that time, you would have to deal with whatever danger would be released. For example, one area spits out acid rain at its time, one starts a huge lightning storm... The worse locks you into its sliver for the whole hour where muttation birds (that's what they call it; I know, it drives you nuts, doesn't it?) scream in the voices of people you care for--one sounds like Katniss's sister, a winner from one of the other games named Finnick hears the girl he loves.... And so on.
Oh, and there are still issues about everyone thinking Peeta and Katniss are still madly in love. They would have given Katniss some slack had she done a convincing job of this, but according to the head of the Capitol, she did not.... So... Um... Yeah, let's go!
Oh, okay. My first note is 78 pages in--every half year between games, the survivors of previous games meet at the Capitol, celebrate, hang out, are doted upon by the Capitol, whatever. These parties have huge dinner setups. Katniss is so excited about all the food that she is determined to try as much as possible--one bite from every dish (she gives the rest to Peeta). She is asked why she has stopped eating, she explains that she is full, and the person who asked laughs and shows her a vial of liquid. You take a sip in the bathroom and bam! You vomit up your meal and are free to continue eating. Now, I made connections to Ancient Rome pretty clear in my last post, but I get excited about that sort of thing, so sorry if this is tiresome. (You don't have to read this, you know.) In ancient Rome, there were these things called vomitoriums. Well--depending on your source, that wasn't their real name, but the point is, you would stuff yourself at an elaborate upper-class Roman feast. Granted, no Roman feast could compare to the elaborate dishes at the Capitol, but we're still talking about things like flamingos stuffed with sparrows, roasted songbird tongues, dishes involving dormice... A lot of things getting stuffed into other things. You got full but you didn't want to miss out on the rabbit fetus? Well, fortunately for you your host was kind enough to provide (or you owned yourself, which if you were upper class wasn't so unusual) an ostrich feather long enough for you to tickle the back of your throat. You went into the vomitorium--or whatever the proper name was--tickled your throat, vomited, came back, and went on with your meal of strange things that most people would be horrified to eat. (Incidentally, could my willingness and drive to try unusual foods be related to the fact that I'm Italian and almost certainly have Roman roots? I'd try most of things that a Roman nobleman would have eaten... Except for maybe the tongues. Maybe. I'd love to try the fish sauce, though!) Anyways... Katniss is just as horrified and disgusted as you probably are right now, and goes back to her room.
Oh okay, and her other friend, Gale, wants to run away (back at home). She agrees to, and tries to start planning in her head how she could do so while taking her and Gale's family with her and Gale. Gale abruptly informs her that he loves her--she's so shocked she can't think straight and responds with--wait for it--"'I know'" (Collins 97). If you're not laughing, you've never seen a Star Wars movie. Sorry.
Aaaand... Wow, there's been about a month break between what's up here and what you're reading this very second, so sorry if I'm a little foggy. Finals and all of that, and general laziness... Anyways, I guess I described the hunger game arena this year in basic detail... They start out on platforms in the middle of the ocean and they have to swim to that island with all the traps on it... So if you can't swim (which is a possibility, depending on your district), you're pretty much done from the start, there. I don't remember if anyone specifically gets screwed by that factor (the belts on the tributes' uniforms are flotation devices when used properly, or something like that), but that would be interesting if they were... Again, a little foggy on the details...
Ah, yes! Me being me, I've marked one of the most heartbreaking moments in the book. Katniss and Peeta befriend two people from whichever district was in charge of fishing (oops). One is a young, popular man who won a few years before Peeta and Katniss, and the female tribute is an elderly woman whose shining day came many, many decades before. Anyways, they all get stuck in the part of the island with the gas that affects your nervous system--it doesn't kill you right away, but it sets you up for a pretty excruciating death if you don't find shelter. Peeta needs to be carried. It hits Katniss, and she starts having trouble controlling her body--Mags, the old lady, can't move fast enough to escape it, but the other guy--Finnick--can't carry Peeta and Mags. So, Mags: "Mags hauls herself up, plants a kiss on Finnick's lips, and then hobbles straight into the fog. Immediately, her body is seized by wild contortions and she falls to the ground in a horrible dance. I want to scream, but my throat is on fire" (Collins 301).
My next note is... Ugh, it's so stupid, but the Beavis and/or Butthead in me thinks that it is hilarious. People commonly describes the noise clocks make on the hour or half hour or whatever as chimes or bongs. This book is no different. "Twelve bongs last night" (Collins 325). Daaaaaaaaaayum, Katniss.
Oh man, and my last note is on another thing I thought was hilarious but will probably make everyone else in the world facepalm. I mentioned how Gale kissed Katniss earlier in the is post, right? (Not going back to check. Deal with it.) Well, he does, in the privacy of Katniss's own home, but somehow the president knows anyways. But after Katniss kisses Peeta towards the end of this book, she thinks: "I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down" (Collins 352). I don't know why I found that so hilarious but I do.
Anywayyys... Like I said, I'm kind of fuzzy on the end, which is probably better for you, because I can't inadvertently (or advertently?) spoil the end. All I remember is that the members of Katniss's Hunger Games "team" had planned a rebellion in their game, and Katniss's obliviousness prevents her from understanding it (again, I can't blame her at all, because I'd be the same way). Buttt it also means major consequences for the districts that the members of those rebellions hail from... Well, I'm sure there will be a recap in Mockingjay! I'll keep you guys updated, because God knows if your libraries are anything like my local libraries, you won't be able to even get your hands on a free copy till next January (31 holds on it at Wallingford! 31 holds!!). Wheeeeee.
MLA Citation Information: Collins, Suzanne. Catching Fire. Scholastic Press: United States of America, 2009.
Anyways. This is set following the original games--Katniss and Peeta's actions have sparked many rebellions--for example, the third district is completely out of commission, the eighth district had be controlled... and the Capitol is keeping an eye on them. Collins does a very good job of illustrating the tension between Katniss and the Capitol--instead of just describing the idea of Big Brother, she makes the reader feel like they're the ones being scrutinized. Of course, it helps that the book is from Katniss's point of view... But still. It's very eerie.
Now, the Capitol wants to get back at Katniss specifically for essentially making them look like fools. This upcoming year is also the seventy-fifth year of the games. Every twenty-five years the games are "special" versions, known as Quarter Quells--in these there are one or more major twists on the game that year--for the seventy-fifth, those chosen for the games are chosen from each district's pool of winners. Katniss, of course, is the only female winner from her district. More twists are the incredible difficult and twisted challenges of the arena--it's set up like a clock, and... I didn't quite get how this worked, exactly, but if you were in the four o'clock area at that time, you would have to deal with whatever danger would be released. For example, one area spits out acid rain at its time, one starts a huge lightning storm... The worse locks you into its sliver for the whole hour where muttation birds (that's what they call it; I know, it drives you nuts, doesn't it?) scream in the voices of people you care for--one sounds like Katniss's sister, a winner from one of the other games named Finnick hears the girl he loves.... And so on.
Oh, and there are still issues about everyone thinking Peeta and Katniss are still madly in love. They would have given Katniss some slack had she done a convincing job of this, but according to the head of the Capitol, she did not.... So... Um... Yeah, let's go!
Oh, okay. My first note is 78 pages in--every half year between games, the survivors of previous games meet at the Capitol, celebrate, hang out, are doted upon by the Capitol, whatever. These parties have huge dinner setups. Katniss is so excited about all the food that she is determined to try as much as possible--one bite from every dish (she gives the rest to Peeta). She is asked why she has stopped eating, she explains that she is full, and the person who asked laughs and shows her a vial of liquid. You take a sip in the bathroom and bam! You vomit up your meal and are free to continue eating. Now, I made connections to Ancient Rome pretty clear in my last post, but I get excited about that sort of thing, so sorry if this is tiresome. (You don't have to read this, you know.) In ancient Rome, there were these things called vomitoriums. Well--depending on your source, that wasn't their real name, but the point is, you would stuff yourself at an elaborate upper-class Roman feast. Granted, no Roman feast could compare to the elaborate dishes at the Capitol, but we're still talking about things like flamingos stuffed with sparrows, roasted songbird tongues, dishes involving dormice... A lot of things getting stuffed into other things. You got full but you didn't want to miss out on the rabbit fetus? Well, fortunately for you your host was kind enough to provide (or you owned yourself, which if you were upper class wasn't so unusual) an ostrich feather long enough for you to tickle the back of your throat. You went into the vomitorium--or whatever the proper name was--tickled your throat, vomited, came back, and went on with your meal of strange things that most people would be horrified to eat. (Incidentally, could my willingness and drive to try unusual foods be related to the fact that I'm Italian and almost certainly have Roman roots? I'd try most of things that a Roman nobleman would have eaten... Except for maybe the tongues. Maybe. I'd love to try the fish sauce, though!) Anyways... Katniss is just as horrified and disgusted as you probably are right now, and goes back to her room.
Oh okay, and her other friend, Gale, wants to run away (back at home). She agrees to, and tries to start planning in her head how she could do so while taking her and Gale's family with her and Gale. Gale abruptly informs her that he loves her--she's so shocked she can't think straight and responds with--wait for it--"'I know'" (Collins 97). If you're not laughing, you've never seen a Star Wars movie. Sorry.
Aaaand... Wow, there's been about a month break between what's up here and what you're reading this very second, so sorry if I'm a little foggy. Finals and all of that, and general laziness... Anyways, I guess I described the hunger game arena this year in basic detail... They start out on platforms in the middle of the ocean and they have to swim to that island with all the traps on it... So if you can't swim (which is a possibility, depending on your district), you're pretty much done from the start, there. I don't remember if anyone specifically gets screwed by that factor (the belts on the tributes' uniforms are flotation devices when used properly, or something like that), but that would be interesting if they were... Again, a little foggy on the details...
Ah, yes! Me being me, I've marked one of the most heartbreaking moments in the book. Katniss and Peeta befriend two people from whichever district was in charge of fishing (oops). One is a young, popular man who won a few years before Peeta and Katniss, and the female tribute is an elderly woman whose shining day came many, many decades before. Anyways, they all get stuck in the part of the island with the gas that affects your nervous system--it doesn't kill you right away, but it sets you up for a pretty excruciating death if you don't find shelter. Peeta needs to be carried. It hits Katniss, and she starts having trouble controlling her body--Mags, the old lady, can't move fast enough to escape it, but the other guy--Finnick--can't carry Peeta and Mags. So, Mags: "Mags hauls herself up, plants a kiss on Finnick's lips, and then hobbles straight into the fog. Immediately, her body is seized by wild contortions and she falls to the ground in a horrible dance. I want to scream, but my throat is on fire" (Collins 301).
My next note is... Ugh, it's so stupid, but the Beavis and/or Butthead in me thinks that it is hilarious. People commonly describes the noise clocks make on the hour or half hour or whatever as chimes or bongs. This book is no different. "Twelve bongs last night" (Collins 325). Daaaaaaaaaayum, Katniss.
Oh man, and my last note is on another thing I thought was hilarious but will probably make everyone else in the world facepalm. I mentioned how Gale kissed Katniss earlier in the is post, right? (Not going back to check. Deal with it.) Well, he does, in the privacy of Katniss's own home, but somehow the president knows anyways. But after Katniss kisses Peeta towards the end of this book, she thinks: "I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down" (Collins 352). I don't know why I found that so hilarious but I do.
Anywayyys... Like I said, I'm kind of fuzzy on the end, which is probably better for you, because I can't inadvertently (or advertently?) spoil the end. All I remember is that the members of Katniss's Hunger Games "team" had planned a rebellion in their game, and Katniss's obliviousness prevents her from understanding it (again, I can't blame her at all, because I'd be the same way). Buttt it also means major consequences for the districts that the members of those rebellions hail from... Well, I'm sure there will be a recap in Mockingjay! I'll keep you guys updated, because God knows if your libraries are anything like my local libraries, you won't be able to even get your hands on a free copy till next January (31 holds on it at Wallingford! 31 holds!!). Wheeeeee.
MLA Citation Information: Collins, Suzanne. Catching Fire. Scholastic Press: United States of America, 2009.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
I know I'm a little late on this trend, but a copy of The Hunger Games was literally put into my hands, so it was hard to put off reading the series any longer. I wish I hadn't put it off so long. It's really, really good, and very haunting.
Quick list of favourite things in this book:
A hunger game is set in a predetermined area, different every year. Two teenagers from each district (except thirteen, obviously) is chosen to fight while surviving in this area. They must forage for themselves, though sometimes their sponsors send food and medicine, and they do have a pick for weapons--though they must fight the other kids to have a pick at the weapons left in the beginning of the game. Last man standing wins (though in this hunger game the rules are changed, since prior to the games Katniss and Peeta play up the idea that they are in love, Peeta of course being serious, and Katniss being like, whatever), so it's essentially a big old gladiator battle. (And why it makes sense that all these Capitol folk have Roman names...)
So. As you may have gathered, Katniss was drawn for the games (technically her younger sister was, but Katniss volunteered in Prim's place), as was Peeta. Let's go:
Oh, yeah. Gale is a friend of Katniss's. In the beginning of the book they have snuck outside of the fence that contains their district and are hunting illegally. This is how they feed themselves and their family, because District 12 is really, really poor, especially their families. On the morning before "the reaping" (when they choose the candidates for the games) Gale suggests that they run away to live in the woods. It doesn't appear to be romantically charged, at least as not as much as it may sound, but it could be. There's not a lot of Gale in this volume. Anyways, the point is, he doesn't exist as simply a romance object (and now you understand the "Team Gale" thing I said earlier).
I also love how down-to-earth Katniss is--Katniss goes a little to the extreme, and it could prove dangerous for her later, but still: "As I walk, I glance over at Gale's face, still smoldering underneath his stony expression. His rages seem pointless to me, although I never say so. It's not that I don't agree with him. I do. But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make things fair. It doesn't fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby game. I let him yell though. Better he does it in the woods than in the district" (Collins 14). I completely respect the attitude that she has.
Oh yeah, the stylists... Well, the competitors have to be spruced up. Katniss is cleaned, shaved for the first time in her life, scars are fixed, etc. And they are presented to an audience (it's basically a reality TV show) before the games in interviews and so on. They are given fancy clothes and an "edge"--sexy, mysterious, tough, et cetera. So. The stylists' names: Venia, Octavia, Cinna and Flavius (at least the ones on the page I marked). Octavia=Octavius=Augustus Caesar, Flavius is a lesser-known emperor, Cinna was on the consul, and although there are multiple Cinnas (obviously), the one I'm most familiar with is the poet that was murdered in a riot for having the same name as the consul member. And... okay, fine. I don't know of any famous Roman named Venia, but it is Latin. Apparently people have been complaining about Lenny Kravitz being cast as one of the stylists (Cinna, I think), but as long as he's done a good job, what does it really matter? Sorry that he's black...?
Oh, speaking of the stylists, one of the things I'm really excited to see in the film is the outfits. Suzanne Collins is incredibly talented in writing descriptions (especially that of food!), and of the dresses Katniss wears during interviews and so on. "...My dress, oh, my dress is entirely covered in reflective precious gems, red and yellow and white with bits of blue that accent the tips of the flame design. The slightest movement gives the impression I am engulfed in tongue of fire. I am not pretty. I am not beautiful. I am as radiant as the sun" (Collins 121).
Oh--and going along with the Stylist's names, there's Caesar, the interviewer. I hope I don't need to explain the Roman importance of his name.
One thing people have been up in arms about is the fact that Rue was black in the movie. Well, duh. She's described as being black. Not only that, she's from the agricultural district--she picks from morning till night, if she stops she gets whipped, if she steals she gets whipped. You'd have to be an idiot not to draw the obvious connection between that and a plantation. Even if Collins hadn't described her as having dark skin, it very nearly would be an automatic to have her be black in the movie because there's no way you can't make that connection. So... So yeah, calm down world.
And--Rue--well, here come the spoilers. Her death was heartbreaking and beautiful. And in a way, I'm glad it happened. As they got closer and friendlier, I started getting scared--because at that point, the rules hadn't changed. Only one person could win. One of them would have to kill the other. So once the fact was over... Well... In a sick way, I was a little relieved. Because Katniss would have to kill Rue, and that just wouldn't be possible. Katniss kills Rue's killer, however, covers Rue in flowers, and sings a lullaby to her to ease her into her death. It's a beautiful scene.
Later, Katniss makes it back to Peeta, and they care for each other. (Mostly Katniss caring for Peeta.) This when they play up the fake relationship the most--Peeta kissing her for real, Katniss focusing on what was truly important--survival. At one point Peeta asks Katniss to tell her a story, so she tells him about when she got her sister's goat--I only mention it because Collins has these clever ways of wording sentences every so often that I really enjoy... "It was an excellent deal if the goat lived; I'd been robbed if she died. People took sides in the argument, but I took the goat" (Collins 272).
Also, fans of Skyward Sword: there are birds named grooslings. I can't take any part of the book that mentions them seriously.
I really don't have much to say until the book's end. I mean, Katniss lives--obviously--and I think I've already mentioned that Peeta does as well. The rules changed, like I said--when it's just them left there's an announcement that the rules never really changed, so they decide to kill themselves with poisonous berries at the same time, but right before they can swallow they are stopped, it announces that they both win, and although all the people are happy, the Capitol higher-ups are pissed, because that along with what Katniss did for Rue are considered high acts of rebellion. Certainly this is what sets the stage for the rebellious acts that begin to run rampant in the next two books--and the book ends with Katniss on the train back home realizing she's in potentially more danger than she ever was in the games now because she has made the Capitol mad.
She also considers Peeta's relationship with her and Gale's--who does she care for and whatnot. She says she misses him already, she feels bad for offending him... But I don't believe this is grounds for saying she loves him as lover or cares for him more than anything else or anything like that. She cares for him because they shared that danger, and they were the only ones that did--in a time of trauma, they came together. but it doesn't necessarily mean in a romantic way. Well, I guess I'll have to see how this all pans out...
All in all, this is a really good book. Yeah, for the age group, and even an adult could read it. It's not "dumbed down" in its writing or content--how much the book affects you is more according to your own age rather than the book's level of writing. (For example, a kid may not think twice about the "mutts", but that and its implications disturbed me.) It's a neat action story, with more to it than being just that. It's almost--it's almost like a younger adults version of the Uglies series by Scott Westerfield (minus the fourth book in that series! Ugh). Or at least that's what it reminds me of, though to be fair I haven't read that series in four or five years, and maybe I'm just associating them because that was the last new series I read and enjoyed and because both were recommended to me (and lent to me) by the same person. Well, whatever. This is a good dystopian future series, and so is Westerfield's series. Read them both, then let me know whether my connection between the two of them is unfounded or not. Please.
Anyways, read the book, you'll be glad you did--it's worth the hype. Collins is talented. The books are well-written. The ideas are intriguing. The main character isn't a wet rag. You'll read it in about two days. Gooo doooo itttt.
MLA Citation Information: Collins, Suzanne. The Hunger Games. Scholastic Press: New York, 2008.
Quick list of favourite things in this book:
- All of Katniss's stylists have the names of either Roman emperors or well-known senate members. (Also, the interviewer dude is Caesar, and I pictured him as Hamilton-ish [from Harvest Moon: Tree of Tranquility].)
- Katniss does not care about romance at all. It's not even on her radar. On one hand, her obliviousness about the fact that Peeta is really in love with her can be a little annoying, but on the other, she's not giving though to it because survival is most important. I am totally behind that. I feel bad for Peeta a little, but at the same time, I love Katniss for being--well, not so girly. In other news, those of you wearing "Team Peeta" and "Team Gale" shirts are probably idiots. It's pretty clear even from just this that romance isn't going to be a priority, thank goodness.
- The Foxfaced girl. There's something about her. I want to know more about her, even though she's dead and only shows up like twice.
- The fact that Peeta is a bread baker... Like pita bread. Hehe.
- The fact that even the characters in the book seem to be aware of what a stupid name Katniss is. (Gale calling her "catnip" as her nickname. That has to be Suzanne Collins mocking herself.)
A hunger game is set in a predetermined area, different every year. Two teenagers from each district (except thirteen, obviously) is chosen to fight while surviving in this area. They must forage for themselves, though sometimes their sponsors send food and medicine, and they do have a pick for weapons--though they must fight the other kids to have a pick at the weapons left in the beginning of the game. Last man standing wins (though in this hunger game the rules are changed, since prior to the games Katniss and Peeta play up the idea that they are in love, Peeta of course being serious, and Katniss being like, whatever), so it's essentially a big old gladiator battle. (And why it makes sense that all these Capitol folk have Roman names...)
So. As you may have gathered, Katniss was drawn for the games (technically her younger sister was, but Katniss volunteered in Prim's place), as was Peeta. Let's go:
Oh, yeah. Gale is a friend of Katniss's. In the beginning of the book they have snuck outside of the fence that contains their district and are hunting illegally. This is how they feed themselves and their family, because District 12 is really, really poor, especially their families. On the morning before "the reaping" (when they choose the candidates for the games) Gale suggests that they run away to live in the woods. It doesn't appear to be romantically charged, at least as not as much as it may sound, but it could be. There's not a lot of Gale in this volume. Anyways, the point is, he doesn't exist as simply a romance object (and now you understand the "Team Gale" thing I said earlier).
I also love how down-to-earth Katniss is--Katniss goes a little to the extreme, and it could prove dangerous for her later, but still: "As I walk, I glance over at Gale's face, still smoldering underneath his stony expression. His rages seem pointless to me, although I never say so. It's not that I don't agree with him. I do. But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make things fair. It doesn't fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby game. I let him yell though. Better he does it in the woods than in the district" (Collins 14). I completely respect the attitude that she has.
Oh yeah, the stylists... Well, the competitors have to be spruced up. Katniss is cleaned, shaved for the first time in her life, scars are fixed, etc. And they are presented to an audience (it's basically a reality TV show) before the games in interviews and so on. They are given fancy clothes and an "edge"--sexy, mysterious, tough, et cetera. So. The stylists' names: Venia, Octavia, Cinna and Flavius (at least the ones on the page I marked). Octavia=Octavius=Augustus Caesar, Flavius is a lesser-known emperor, Cinna was on the consul, and although there are multiple Cinnas (obviously), the one I'm most familiar with is the poet that was murdered in a riot for having the same name as the consul member. And... okay, fine. I don't know of any famous Roman named Venia, but it is Latin. Apparently people have been complaining about Lenny Kravitz being cast as one of the stylists (Cinna, I think), but as long as he's done a good job, what does it really matter? Sorry that he's black...?
Oh, speaking of the stylists, one of the things I'm really excited to see in the film is the outfits. Suzanne Collins is incredibly talented in writing descriptions (especially that of food!), and of the dresses Katniss wears during interviews and so on. "...My dress, oh, my dress is entirely covered in reflective precious gems, red and yellow and white with bits of blue that accent the tips of the flame design. The slightest movement gives the impression I am engulfed in tongue of fire. I am not pretty. I am not beautiful. I am as radiant as the sun" (Collins 121).
Oh--and going along with the Stylist's names, there's Caesar, the interviewer. I hope I don't need to explain the Roman importance of his name.
One thing people have been up in arms about is the fact that Rue was black in the movie. Well, duh. She's described as being black. Not only that, she's from the agricultural district--she picks from morning till night, if she stops she gets whipped, if she steals she gets whipped. You'd have to be an idiot not to draw the obvious connection between that and a plantation. Even if Collins hadn't described her as having dark skin, it very nearly would be an automatic to have her be black in the movie because there's no way you can't make that connection. So... So yeah, calm down world.
And--Rue--well, here come the spoilers. Her death was heartbreaking and beautiful. And in a way, I'm glad it happened. As they got closer and friendlier, I started getting scared--because at that point, the rules hadn't changed. Only one person could win. One of them would have to kill the other. So once the fact was over... Well... In a sick way, I was a little relieved. Because Katniss would have to kill Rue, and that just wouldn't be possible. Katniss kills Rue's killer, however, covers Rue in flowers, and sings a lullaby to her to ease her into her death. It's a beautiful scene.
Later, Katniss makes it back to Peeta, and they care for each other. (Mostly Katniss caring for Peeta.) This when they play up the fake relationship the most--Peeta kissing her for real, Katniss focusing on what was truly important--survival. At one point Peeta asks Katniss to tell her a story, so she tells him about when she got her sister's goat--I only mention it because Collins has these clever ways of wording sentences every so often that I really enjoy... "It was an excellent deal if the goat lived; I'd been robbed if she died. People took sides in the argument, but I took the goat" (Collins 272).
Also, fans of Skyward Sword: there are birds named grooslings. I can't take any part of the book that mentions them seriously.
I really don't have much to say until the book's end. I mean, Katniss lives--obviously--and I think I've already mentioned that Peeta does as well. The rules changed, like I said--when it's just them left there's an announcement that the rules never really changed, so they decide to kill themselves with poisonous berries at the same time, but right before they can swallow they are stopped, it announces that they both win, and although all the people are happy, the Capitol higher-ups are pissed, because that along with what Katniss did for Rue are considered high acts of rebellion. Certainly this is what sets the stage for the rebellious acts that begin to run rampant in the next two books--and the book ends with Katniss on the train back home realizing she's in potentially more danger than she ever was in the games now because she has made the Capitol mad.
She also considers Peeta's relationship with her and Gale's--who does she care for and whatnot. She says she misses him already, she feels bad for offending him... But I don't believe this is grounds for saying she loves him as lover or cares for him more than anything else or anything like that. She cares for him because they shared that danger, and they were the only ones that did--in a time of trauma, they came together. but it doesn't necessarily mean in a romantic way. Well, I guess I'll have to see how this all pans out...
All in all, this is a really good book. Yeah, for the age group, and even an adult could read it. It's not "dumbed down" in its writing or content--how much the book affects you is more according to your own age rather than the book's level of writing. (For example, a kid may not think twice about the "mutts", but that and its implications disturbed me.) It's a neat action story, with more to it than being just that. It's almost--it's almost like a younger adults version of the Uglies series by Scott Westerfield (minus the fourth book in that series! Ugh). Or at least that's what it reminds me of, though to be fair I haven't read that series in four or five years, and maybe I'm just associating them because that was the last new series I read and enjoyed and because both were recommended to me (and lent to me) by the same person. Well, whatever. This is a good dystopian future series, and so is Westerfield's series. Read them both, then let me know whether my connection between the two of them is unfounded or not. Please.
Anyways, read the book, you'll be glad you did--it's worth the hype. Collins is talented. The books are well-written. The ideas are intriguing. The main character isn't a wet rag. You'll read it in about two days. Gooo doooo itttt.
MLA Citation Information: Collins, Suzanne. The Hunger Games. Scholastic Press: New York, 2008.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
The Time Machine by HG Wells
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.)
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.)
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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