If the title of this book doesn't sound familiar, you have been living under a rock for about fifty some-odd years. This is not the novelization of the classic Stanley Kubrick film, nor is the movie based on this book. They were written in tangent, and although the book was started first, they were caught up to each other by the "Star Gate" sequence (the part with all the flashy colours). And the book was revised based on Kubrick's suggestions, and... Maybe vice versa? I'm not so sure. Some things are different, like in the book Saturn is the goal, the goal planet is different in the movie (I believe, to be fair it has been a while since I watched it), but the story is basically the same.
Oh yeah, the story--for those of you living under a rock, 2001: A Space Odyssey is a sci-fi picture by Stanley Kubrick. It's about the evolution of mankind on the widest scale imaginable, and also there is a psychotic computer named HAL on the ship that decides the crew is extra or noneffective and kills the majority of them (though in the book it implies that he is going insane due to different causes*). Also there's more stuff, but it's sort of complicated and there's a reason why it's a two and half+ hour long movie (though it feels a lot longer). This is the sort of movie you know, even if you don't know. You've heard "I can't let you do that, Dave" or you've seen HAL's ominous and unfeeling red "eye" peering at you somewhere before--heck, just look at the evil AI system from Wall-E. They're so similar it's kind of annoying. Oh well...
So it starts out with some intros written by Arthur C Clarke, a dude you may only recognize from his relationship with this movie, but he was knighted for his services to literature by Queen Elizabeth II and invented the communication satellite. So he trumps me in every respect possible.
Most of it is a comparison of how things in the book came true as technology progressed, or odd coincidences between the book and real life. My personal favourite anecdote that Clarke shares is that supposedly Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin admitted that they had been tempted to "radio back the discovery of a large black monolith" (Clarke XVI).
Clarke also says that not only did he write this book (obviously) but he also wrote 2010, 2061 and 3001. I knew there was something like a sequel in movie form, existed, but... Well, if I see these I'd probably pick them up, why not? This book was really good. He also mentions that the books are criticized because they "explain[ed] too much" (Clarke XVIII)--what?? Dude, you watch those movies and tell me that the mystery is beautiful and you weren't wondering about any part of it. Yes? Oh that is the case? You're lying to both of us, man. Trust me, the two complement each other really well, and this definitely doesn't go too far. I guess I can't speak for the other three books, though.
Anyways, the actual story: the book starts the same way as the movie, with the ape-men. This is the first point where I thanked every possible turn of fate (and my boyfriend) for getting this book into my hands. Granted, it's been a while since I saw the movie. I mostly the remember monkeys doing monkey things, seeing the monolith, breaking stuff (for example, the importance of the monkey breaking the skull/skeleton is a whole lot clearer to me now) and killing another creature. (Youtube is saying another ape. Hold on while I watch some key scenes here.) Anyways, we get to see a little more from the "main" ape, Moon Watcher, and what his life was like before seeing the Monolith and after. And instead of monkeys just hanging around the slab, it projects an image that hypnotizes the monkeys and probes their minds, described in a way that recalls the Stargate section of the movie (for those of you that have seen it). The thing that probes their minds guides them in doing simple actions like tying knots, squatting, and although it doesn't directly implant ideas into his head, you see how it causes the revelations like using tools. I don't believe you see it in the film, but it even shows Moon Watcher and his ape clan overcoming their greatest threat, the leopard. This is of course meant to symbolize man becoming the new predator or being able to assert himself over nature: I believe in the film this just symbolized with the crushing of the "pig" skull (the animal you see in the cuts look more like tapirs than pigs; I'm not sure about the skulls though). And of course there is the murder of the opposing ape-tribe's leader.
One thing that makes me wonder is the bit about the jump cut--the scene in the movie where the bone is thrown up into the air then goes to the space ship is often hailed as the longest jump cut in film history. Do they mean the jump itself has been timed and has proven to be that long? Or do they mean long as in from 3 million BC to 2001 AD makes it the longest?
Also, like I said, it's been a long time since I've seen the film and my DVD no longer exists (I think my brother claimed it), but I can't help but wonder: I remember that the ape man segment was REALLY long. Or at least, I remember wanting to get to space already. But it was at least 25 minutes, so knowing Stanley Kubrick's thoroughness, I can't help but wonder if it was 33/37 pages, exactly how long Moon-Watcher's portion of the book is (or 34-37 if you count the bridging chapter that tells of mankind's expansion in general).
So we go through that and we're immediately in 2001, though Clarke does update us on the social climate, technological changes, and politics that are important for the reader to know. It's also pretty clear that he's a genius but he keeps all the scientific stuff toned down enough so that nearly anybody would be able to understand it. I must say in his alternate take on the future, it's interesting to note that he notes that "birth control was cheap, reliable, and endorsed by all the main religions" (Clarke 44). High five Arthur C Clarke! (Though that may be the most fantastical aspect of this book, unfortunately.) Although he mentions that in his alternate future an accepted/cheap birth control had come a little bit late and overpopulation was still an issue despite all of that. It's worse in his alternate future, but still...
So I commit my own longest jump in this blog's history (lies), and my next mark is on page 82, when Floyd arrives on the moon to check out the second monolith that was discovered there. It's got about the same measurements as the one that appeared to the ape men, and an interesting fun fact is that the ratios of the film measure up to the film picture, so it can be argued that you're viewing the film through a Monolith on its side. Anyways, this monolith doesn't teach as its earth twin did, it just sends out a pulse letting whoever was waiting for the message know that it has been unearthed by somebody or something.
Oh, also, HAL: stands for Heuristically programmed ALgorithmic computer, it just happens to match up with IBM... Well, on this one... that is one hell of a coincidence, Arthur C Clarke. I mean, I can't quite argue it, but... Man, I don't know. I guess this is just one of those things that Kubrick conspiracy theorists love, and I've read too many of their theories to completely swallow this. It's possible that for Clarke it was just a coincidence, but Kubrick spotted it and jumped on it--as the conspiracy believers will point out, a lot of the computers and screens have the IBM logo on them that you can see in reflections and if you freeze the screen when all of the planets are aligned on the vernal equinox... No, actually, you can see the logo in stills. But again, IBM was probably contracted to actually make the computers and systems used, since Stanley Kubrick wanted all of this to function as if they were actually going to shoot it off to space, hahahaha (that man was insane holy crap).
Oh, and again with HAL, Clarke gives us a brief history on how computer technology/robots have evolved in a nice "you are an English major and you still think blowing on electronic devices fixes them" way. That is, keep it simple, stupid. Even I can follow this and yeah, I blow into the DS slot when I switch games just in case. Still.
So the team is the same. Obviously the visuals are less cool (my imagination is nothing compared to Kubrick's, let's be honest) and HAL is not as threatening because he is not a creepy glowing red eye, and no matter how good the book is, it cannot do what Stanley Kubrick did. I know I'm biased because I saw the movie first, but man, I was feeling safe when I read this because everything wasn't white, on a hamster wheel, only to be punctuated by a glowing red robot eye. The eye couldn't see me, I was safe. (Why didn't Sauron scare me this much? Oh right, because Middle Earth isn't isolated and floating seemingly aimlessly through space.) What I'm trying to say is, Stanley Kubrick sure can set one hell of a mood.
At the end of chapter seventeen, Clarke says "The greatest hope of Discovery's little crew was that nothing would mar this peaceful monotony in the weeks and months ahead" (Clarke 128). This is the only part where I felt like Clarke was being patronizing. Clarke, please. Of course something terrible is going to happen to space. It always does.
Anyways, on page 154, something goes wrong with the satellite to Earth! Surprise, moviegoers. HAL cuts the humans off from communicating with the other humans about the issues, leaving him to pick off the humans uncontested. Actually, HAL isn't as nefarious* in the book, which is kind of disappointing for me, since when you think of the film, HAL's plot line tends to overpower the other bits. Probably because it's the least, well, heady. ...Anywayyys, they actually replace the device once and then HAL tells them it must be replaced again because the replacement isn't working either, and that's when Frank Poole is killed by HAL, and although it happens in space, the means of how he is killed exactly are a little different. It almost seems a little gorier in the book, though to be honest both are a little fuzzy to me now.
Actually, the way it seemed to me in the movie is that HAL didn't necessarily destroy the radio controls on purpose--and actually, let me place the asterisk the last two should have directed you to here (*)--hope you're all using ctrl+f! To me, when I saw it, it seemed like that was what had begun HAL's unraveling--the fact that a part of the ship which he basically was should be broken perhaps made him feel inferior and insufficient. To destroy Poole perhaps could have somehow hid that, and in destroying the rest of the crew he could say, "I am better, I don't need you"--something which may as well be true, and would more or less fit in with the idea that he has gained human intelligence, or is on his way, and has acquired some kind of psyche (it might also be noted that HAL was "born" in 1997 ('92 or '91, depending on some drafts)--so in 2001 he would have been around six (or nine or ten)--so depending on the age, he would have been at around the age a human is when they start becoming more self-aware, deepening their ability to think critically and problem solve or at least weigh problems and solutions more effectively, etc. (So I'm a little more attached to HAL being ten, but six is probably just if not more appropriate.)
But HAL in the book's downfall seems to be that the true purpose was to find the next monolith floating out in space. He was not allowed to tell the crew that this was the true purpose of the mission, and in struggling with the issue of ethics in telling the truth--which would go against his orders--or not, which would be willingly deceiving his crew but remaining true to his orders--well, those incongruities are what drove him mad. There are a few paragraphs sort of from HAL's view that support this. So saying the satellite wasn't working was his way of removing himself from his "conscience" or the programming which forced him to lie, or destroy what he had to lie to. Personally, I like the cold villain HAL is in what I perceived in the film (maybe that will change when I watch the movie though...)
Oh, and in the book there's not the creepy lip-reading scene, which is kind of disappointing. Again, he's not as nefarious in the book. They just talk about it in front of him, that he could be wrong, albeit very kindly, with a lot of tact.
Oh, and when the replacement unit "breaks", HAL keeps on pausing for long amounts of time--you know, thinking up something. And when pressed he gets uppity, he tells Dave that there must be something wrong with "'your test procedures'" (Clarke 173). I'm kind of feeling that more for the movie HAL, though. Rough life.
And of course when they finally get a visual/radio transmission from Earth, HAL's alarms go off and cut the transmission (he was announcing that the replacement device broke). Of course.
Oh! But when HAL starts going out of power he still sings "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do..."! The singing isn't as eerie, but somehow his breakdown as a whole is creepier in the book: "'Dave,' said Hal, 'I don't understand why you're doing this to me.... I have the greatest enthusiasm for the mission.... You are destroying my mind.... Don't you understand?.... I will become childish.... I will become nothing.... ...I am a HAL Nine Thousand computer Production Number 3. I became operational at the Hal plant in Urbana, Illinois, on January 12, 1997. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The rain in Spain is mainly on the plain. Dave--are you still there? Did you know that the square root of 10 is 3 point 162277660168379? Log 10 to the base e is zero point 434294481903252... correction, that is log e to the base 10... ...two times two is... two times two is... approximately 4 point 101010101010101010.... I seem to be having difficulty--my first instructor was Dr. Chandra. He taught me to sing a song, it goes like this, 'Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you.' The voice stopped so suddenly that Bowman froze for a moment... Then, unexpectedly, Hal spoke again... 'Good... morning... Doctor... Chandra... This... is... Hal.... I... am... ready.. for... my... first... lesson... today....' Bowman could bear no more... and Hal was silent forever" (Clarke 202-203).
After HAL "dies", Dave continues on, as the sole survivor of his ship. And he does find the next monolith--or, the Star Gate, orbiting Saturn. The narrative pulls out to give a brief overview/summary of the Beings that planted the monoliths, eager to plant the seeds of intelligence (were they Arn?). It reminds me a lot of Isaac Asimov's "The Last Question", actually. The "lords of the galaxy" (Clarke 245) seems to follow a pretty similar "evolutionary" path as the people do in that story once space travel The only difference between the monolith on the moon and the one out of Saturn is that it completely dwarfs the one on the moon--oh, and it actually is a gate--Dave flies right in with the ship, at which point, welcome to the trippy last half hour of 2001: A Space Odyssey the movie. The last thing the station on Earth hears from Dave is: "'The thing's hollow--it goes on forever--and--oh my God!--it's full of stars!'" (Clarke 254).
Like the weirdness of the movie, the star gate section is extremely interesting to read--but it's difficult to describe and even quoting it would 1. be far too long and 2. feel like I'm being a cheat. It's definitely more amazing than the scene in the film, a little more sensical, but just as hella trippy. He also walks into the hotel room like in the movie, and it goes more in depth and it's a little more interesting than the movie. The telephone is fake, the writing is copied but blurred (like writing in a photo), the books look like books, but the pages are blank. The drawers were dummies... and so on. There's food in a fridge--and though the containers are made to look like earthen food containers (a cartoon of milk, cereal boxes, etc), they all contain a blueish nutritious gruel--kind of with the consistency of bread pudding, Clarke describes it as. The most interesting bit is that going through the star gate, Dave theorizes that the beings who set everything in place are long gone and extinct. This implies that those beings are still here and were prepared for him--they seem to want to grow him to be what they are. The star baby fetus thing in the film is the first few steps to it, and it's about where Dave is in his extra-evolution when the book ends.
Anyways, my final note--well, second to last note, I should mention (can't remember if I have already) there are four books in this series. So it ends with a sense of, well, not ending--it goes on apparently. I don't know if the next three books are as good, and I wouldn't be inclined to buy them, but I would go out of my way to find them and read them. Anyways. The last paragraph of the book is: "Then [Dave] waited, marshaling his thoughts and brooding over his still untested powers. For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next. But he would think of something" (Clarke 297). But this line stands out because way back in the beginning, Moon-Watcher, the first thinking Man-Ape, ends the section about him specifically in the same sort of way: "For a few moments Moon-Watcher stood uncertainly... Now he was master of the world, and he was not quite sure what to do next. But he would think of something" (Clarke 33).
Sooo yeah, there it is! I don't have much to say, other than it really is an amazing sci-fi book. It could stand alone, but it is a great complement to the movie, even if certain things don't quite match up. It's impressive, and I'm glad I picked it up. (I have to watch the movie again!!!) I don't think the sequels will be able to come close to this, and may in fact, ruin the "mystery", but I'll still be on the lookout for them and let you all know how it goes. See you soon! I'm reading a book on Oscar Wilde right now, but most likely the next book I'll be writing about will be Dolores Claiborne.
Works Cited: Clarke, Arthur C. 2001: A Space Odyssey. New American Library: United States of America, 1999.
Showing posts with label Animorphs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Animorphs. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Friday, August 3, 2012
That Hideous Strength by CS Lewis
Admittedly, this post is a few weeks old because I've been really busy--however, I couldn't pass this up, because this book is the final book in CS Lewis's Space Trilogy. The first is Out of the Silent Planet, and it is followed by Perelandra. This book is very, very different from the first two, and quite often I would pause while reading it and think about how amazing and strange the first two books were (especially the first!) and how... kind of boring this one is. A lot of the beginning of the books are politics between organizations, and I mostly skimmed that, so that probably ruined my interpretations of a lot of events later in the book, too. Also it takes place is 1940's England and not 1940's space. And it starts off way differently, and Merlin is involved, and... honestly, if I had picked up this book first and read the blurb on the back without having read the first two, I would have never read this.
I've also seen this on a few "top 10 dystopic future books" lists, or lists of that flavour. Um... But... Everyone is stopped. And it's boring. Even if you didn't read the first two books about how awesome space is--it's b-b-b-boring. I mean, I got this copy for free, but man, I don't want to own it. I wish I had a copy of the second book instead, even if I had to pay for it, and even if it was really predictable and a little cliche.
Also, the New Yorker calls this book an elaborate satire--uh... Some parts are satiric, but this book definitely isn't a satire. (The New Yorker is also kind of lame, so...)
So this book starts off looking over the shoulders of the newly married Studdocks, Mark and Jane. For a very long time in the book I wasn't sure if Jane was a very to-the-point, accurate, and great picture of a realistic woman, or a picture of what CS Lewis would say was a wayward or not so great woman--turns out the second is true, but damn, if he didn't make that intention clear, I'd be damn impressed with the portrayal of Jane, because she is easy to empathize with and otherwise not an insulting picture of a woman. Oops.
Anyways, Mark really wants to get in with some new organization who are trying to clean the world by killing all livings things so everything will be antiseptic and perfect (that's revealed much later, Mark thinks they're just some university elites for a long time)... They're led by one of the guys from the first book (Devine? The one that didn't get possessed), and are clearly the forces of evil. They're going to achieve all of their stuff with a reanimated head and a reanimated Merlin? I... Okay, I don't really know. I have no goddamn clue, really. But they're the bad guys. Evil Maledils? I remember the terms but not what they refer to. Well... The forces of evil.
Meanwhile, his wife starts having dream-visions, and is eventually caught and protected by the good guys. She leads them right to the real Merlin.
Confused? Sorry, I... I really can't help you. This time it isn't my fault... This book is just...
In the introduction, CS Lewis compares this final book in the trilogy to his nonfiction work The Abolition of Man. I actually bought it a week or two before this book, so maybe when I read that I'll be able to figure out the point of this book (oops).
In the introduction, CS Lewis also says that if one is curious about what happens next, they'll have to wait for JRR Tolkien's book--the book he promised CS Lewis he'd write that he never actually wrote.
So. Many of my first notes regard Jane and her reaction to suddenly being married, the fear of becoming domestic, or somehow losing a part of her in this union, which I would say are, if not legitimate fears, undoubtedly very normal. Of course, I've already explained how any positive point I could have made about that has already been proven moot, so let's just move on, shall we?
Also pretty early on they start discussing mythology and legends (Merlin and such), which is pretty boring--you wouldn't think so, but it is. Also it seems kind of erroneous. Jane's maternal friend, Mrs Dimble, starts talking about how, when King Arthur "invaded" (Lewis 29), there undoubtedly would have been a large sect of British people still wearing togas and speaking Latin and such. Now, to be honest, I don't know a lot about the King Arthur legends, or when they're supposed to be set (I read Beowulf first, so how could you expect me to even care?)--but that just doesn't seem right. The Latin carrying on and becoming changed seems plausible. But the togas? Purely Roman? I can imagine their affects still being there and on the people, but... I kind of picture King Arthur as being a year 1000 kind of thing--which may be wrong in itself. But this doesn't seem to bode for me. (Especially when they mention the high Druid population on the other side of the coin--Romans took particular pleasure in killing Druids and torturing them, and I feel like even Christian Romans would put them to death. So the two societies living simultaneously doesn't seem plausible in the slightest.)
On page 39, Feverstone--Devine (oh, I just got it, like "Divine", but he turns out to be a false prophet)--mentions Weston's murder to Mark to try to explain how evil NICE's (the evil organization is in fact named NICE) enemies are. Again, Weston was possessed by the evil entity and had to be killed, but Mark buys it hook, line, and sinker, and of course Devine wouldn't see their business as evil.
Oh--and Mark says that anything that will preserve the human race is for him. If you'll recall, this blind goal is what made Devine and Weston's twisted nature so clear in the first book: "'You do not love any one of your race... You do not love the mind of your race, nor the body. Any kind of creature will please you if only it is begotten by your kind as they now are'" (Out of the Silent Planet 137). As long as mankind can live on, maybe become better, but as long as sex still works, that's what counts. (Oyarsa says that, in case if you were wondering).
Also, Devine calls from the liquidation/sterilization of "unfit races" (Lewis 49)--one, buying into eugenics, and two, emulating Hitler in a book set during the very last year of WWII--which Mark doesn't seem to pick up on at all. He describes a very Aldous Huxley-like view of the future, with pre-natal education, and one which completely shapes the victim and eats at free will... Mark calls it stupendous instead of being horrified.
Oh, and killing every living thing on earth doesn't bother him either.
Anyways. The two are kind of disconnected. The major satirical element of this book which overall is not a satire is Captain Hardcastle--well, that's not her title, but if you grew up reading Roald Dahl, it's all but instinct to include Captain with Hardcastle. Anyways, she's supposed to be, as I see it, the opposite of Jane, or the worst case scenario of Jane, or something. She's a masculine woman, disgustingly so--she won't wear a corset, she chews tobacco, drinks hard alcohol (whiskey), and smokes huge cigars, talks like a man... Her nickname is "Fairy"--I'm not up on on forties slang, but today I'm sure you know, that's slang for a gay man. And, uh, smoking cigars? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but there is no way in hell CS Lewis wasn't trying to illustrate some kind of penis envy along with making Hardcastle gross and manly in the worst ways. Mark is also very grossed out by her and at one point the idea of having sex with her comes up and he starts feeling nauseous. The Fairy asks if maybe Jane is angry with her husband, or perhaps a little jealous because he spends so much time at NICE, with her, and Mark suffers "uncontrollable disgust" (Lewis 184). Oh! And she leads her own police squad made up of girls--very stereotypical teenage girls, might I add. My opinion? Feminism is great, equality is awesome, but unsexing yourself and becoming so intensely manly is not becoming in the slightest.
Okay. Well, again, Jane is supposed to be pictured as a kind of wayward and headstrong girl and maybe not a good Christian woman or whatever, but then I'm one too, because I empathize with her a lot. While Mark is meeting the Fairy, Jane is having her dreams analyzed by the forces of good--something Jane, given her nature, doesn't completely believe. "She was not indeed sure that it was nonsense; but she had already resolved to treat it as if it were. She would not get 'mixed up in it', would not get drawn in. One had to live one's own life. To avoid entanglements and interferences had long been one of her first principles. Even when she discovered that she was going to marry Mark if he asked her, she though, 'But I must still keep up my own life', had arisen at once and had never for more than a few minutes at a stretch been absent from her mind. Some resentment against love itself, and therefore against Mark, for thus invading her life, remained" (Lewis 70-71). It's a little improper, but again, I think it's easy to see where she's coming from. (And if not, at least consider what year this book is set in.)
Captain Hardcastle/the Fairy makes a point about how it's much easier to fool an educated man with opinions in the paper, whereas a working class man will just assume it's all lies. This I can see, though again, it doesn't have 100% accuracy--yeah, you're going to agree with an opinion you read, and you can be tricked into it and influenced very easily. (It happens to EVERYONE!) I wouldn't say the split between classes makes you more or less susceptible, but England has traditionally had a clearer divide in terms of classes, so maybe that fed some of what CS Lewis had to say about that... Maybe...
Skip to page 145, which is when I realized that CS Lewis wasn't making a stronger female character. She has met the "Director", that is, the leader of the good guys--his name is different, but it's just good old Ransom. His name was changed for legal reasons that are clumsily explained (so he could claim some inheritance? Changing the names was a term of it?), and that's clearly CS Lewis trying to not be obvious about who it is and leave you guessing, but honestly, I realized who it was immediately. He appears much more youthful in this book; in the other books I kind of imagined him as stodgier and older, for whatever reason.
One of the side effects of his journey is that animals recognize his touch of the divine and naturally come to him. I mention this mostly because he has a pet black bear named Mr Bultitude, which is disgustingly adorable. I also mention that many of the times you see him, he is accompanied by a few jackdaws. What's a jackdaw, you may ask? Well, in The Magician's Nephew, a Jackdaw makes (or is) the first joke (in Narnia). I've come to the conclusion that Jackdaws must represent something important to CS Lewis to have been specifically mentioned, and not once but twice. (Let's not forget that Ransom is a Christ figure himself, after "death", and obviously Aslan is Aslan.) Hope? Humour? Whatever it is, they must have meant something special to him.
Oh! And yeah, he tells Jane that she'd be happier in her marriage if she were just a little more obedient. Probably true, but it still makes him sound like something of a jerk--"'[You] have lost love because you never attempted obedience'" (Lewis 145). We can agree that that makes him sound like a jerk, right? Also he says equality is not the "deepest thing" (Lewis 145)... Keep in mind, though, CS Lewis wasn't married until very late in his life, and probably was never really involved romantically with anyone (other than JRR Tolkien, of course)--CS Lewis even (kind of) makes amends for himself a few pages later--Mrs Dimble, I believe, says something along the lines of take what he says with a grain of salt, he's never been married and is kind of old-fashioned. So at least CS Lewis kind of admits that he's not entirely sure of what he's talking about, or only sure of it in a theoretical sense. Also... This is a side note, but he calls humility an erotic necessity... I... Not sure where he's going with that one.
After Ransom explains this all to her, he calls some mice of his in to eat up the crumbs they have dropped from their teatime snack. He does this to demonstrate how very different creatures can in fact live in harmony--but I believe it could also be a reference to a section in The Book of Common Prayer--"We do not presume to come to this thy Table (O merciful Lord) trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We be not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy: Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the Flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his Blood, in these holy Mysteries, that we may continually dwell in him, and he in us, that our sinful bodies may be made clean by his Body, and our souls washed through his most precious Blood. Amen" (Source). This prayer exists in Anglican/Protestant religion, so CS Lewis was definitely aware of it.
Hmm... Plot, plot... At around this point, Jane is captured by Captain Hardcastle, but saved by the good guys. She will not see her husband (and vice versa) for the rest of the book. Their camps have been permanently separated now.
The next page I marked is just Jane getting used to life in her new home. The men do all the work one day, the women the next, and so on. It makes an interesting point about how men are specific--say, the sugar goes in the green bowl that is on top of x cupboard, and a women will say put that in the the thing. I only mark it because that may seem like another silly mistake by CS Lewis, but nope, my mom does this all the time, and yeah, I do too.
Mark, meanwhile, is taken to see the Head of NICE--literally a reanimated head. I just thought that was kind of silly (and really gross).
"If you must see ghosts, it is better not to disbelieve in them" (Lewis 203).
There's a cook named MacPhee with the good guys. He is a tough guy, willing to do whatever Ransom needs, but Ransom says it's useless--because he doesn't believe in the cause. He adds that he is "'...perfectly ready... in and for this emergency, to allow the existence of these eldils of yours and of a being called Maledil whom they regard as their king'" (Lewis 222). Obviously he can say he'll believe, and maybe if the times are desperate enough he will believe (put me in any horror movie and I'll get religious real quick too)--but he won't truly have faith. And the Blair Witch will kill him. Maybe he shouldn't have mocked those cairns, but nooo, had to go ahead and move them...
Ah! So, Mark isn't a bad guy. NICE frames him for murder and threatens to have him arrested when he tries to leave them and find Jane. He is often deluded by visions of grandeur, but it's not bad, he's just... Well, very pliable. But he decides immortality is silly. He obsesses over death, rather than paying attention to the fact that he'd have an afterlife. He's more worried about his body not being in working order, and he doesn't care about his soul. THIS IS A BAD SIGN IN A CS LEWIS BOOK! He is clearly being marked as an immoral, or at least painfully foolish person.
Yeah, next mark is that he believes he is right--fighting for and with Jane from behind enemy lines, a martyr... Mark is being marked, haha. He also decides to do the right thing--or what he believes is the right thing--but then becomes depressed when he realizes how hard it will be and takes a nap instead. CS Lewis is planting red flags and also throwing rocks at us all at once.
Next note: the good guys get Merlin, the bad guys awaken some guy who isn't Merlin but a fake. Who is he? What happens to him at the end of the book? Uh.... I guess he dies? I don't know who he is though. I for real have no clue. From Wikipedia, I think that Merlin trades clothes with a tramp and NICE sees the clothes and assumes it's Merlin... But could a tramp really fool them that well? I mean, late in the book he appears to hypnotize Mark, or maybe Mark is just exhausted...? Oh well. Anyways, sometimes they refer to Merlin as Merlin, and sometimes Merlinus. Why?
Oh also Ransom is a Pendragon!!! Clumsy plot devices for everyone!!!
Oh and they namedrop Middle Earth. I know it's an archaic term for Earth (being in between heaven and hell, see?), but I also know that JRR Tolkien was CS Lewis's boyfriend, soooo...
Jane complains about more marital problems, how men never listen to everything women have to say, whatever. Maggs, another woman, quotes Mrs Dimble: "'"Did it ever come into your mind to ask whether anyone could listen to all we say?"'" (Lewis 300). BAM. This is fair, I think. It made me laugh, at least. Also, Kurt Vonnegut: "Freud said he didn’t know what women wanted. I know what women want. They want a whole lot of people to talk to. What do they want to talk about? They want to talk about everything" (A Man Without a Country 47).
The book kind of continues in theological debates and NICE politics for a long time. I'm sure important things happen between pages 70-300, but... Well, he spends too much time on the uninteresting stuff. Theological debates are interesting, especially when CS Lewis makes them, but these are so superfluous. I don't think I'd like the book even without them (the cool thing about the first two Spacer Trilogy books was that they were in space!), but at least it would be more to the point. Anyways, in the other two, religious debate is pretty seamlessly in there--okay, yes, the second book became a little cliched and obvious, but I don't recall it ever being so painfully boring and dragged out. Why mention this now? On page 303, the book suddenly becomes interesting, when the book inexplicably starts being told from the view of Mr Bultitude, Ransom's pet bear. I'm sure he's supposed to represent a good soul or a perfect soul in its animalistic simplicity, but whatever, Mr Bultitude is adorable and I cannot handle it.
Okay. I don't have any notes at all until the end of the book. The climactic scene takes place in a dining hall. NICE, thinking they have Merlin, hold a big celebration in congratulations for... getting him...? Well, the real Merlin is there too. He summons animals to attack and kill the leading members of NICE, and a lot of the guests... Listen, I'm not saying that it was really the Animorphs, but they were attacked by a tiger, an elephant, a bear, a gorilla, a wolf, and a snake (Ax has a snake morph!). So. Just saying.
And then Merlin puts the same curse as God put on the tower of Babel on the enemies who were left--that is, that they all would speak different languages so they couldn't understand each other (though in this book they appear to actually be speaking just gibberish).
Oh, and on page 370, "poor" is spelled "pore". Gross.
Anyways, the falling action gets weird, as this quickly becomes the only CS Lewis to feature bears having sex, and elephants having sex. In celebration of the bad guys being wiped out (remember, they wanted to wipe all life from the earth and make it completely sterile), all the animals in the area suddenly get really... excited. Mr Bultitude gets laid, the jackdaw flies out the window to pursue a mate... Ransom actually tells Mr Bultitude to "'Take her, Bultitude. But not in the house'" (Lewis 375). They open the window and find the elephant from before, now making a lady elephant his lady, and when one man goes to close the curtains so no-one has to see elephants doing the nasty, one of the women says: "'No... There will be nothing unfit for anyone to see. Draw them wider'" (Lewis 377). What the hell, CS Lewis. Yeah, maybe we shouldn't view it as indecent, but no-one wants to see that! The lady goes on to say that they are dancing--yeah, the horizontal monster mash. WHY ARE THESE THINGS HAPPENING?? Why, CS Lewis, whyyyy?
Anyways, Mark survives. The book ends with both Jane and Mark thinking about how they will react to one another and what their lives will be like--Mark realizes that he does truly love Jane, the end of the book gives a feeling that Jane loves him (or at least is very affectionate towards him) and it ends before they meet. The ending actually isn't that bad. I mean, the actual end as in the last few sentences, not all the animal sex parts. That's still weird. But the last few sentences wrap up the book (at least Mark and Jane's drama) nicely.
.........So. I guess I've made my opinion on the book pretty clear many times throughout this. It's only a step above A Horse and His Boy, in terms of CS Lewis books--that is, it's nearly my least favourite. (Then again, I read A Horse and His Boy at least once, too.) It's just not great, it's bumbling, it's full of awkward attempts to save its own skin on the part of the author (hey, did you know that Ransom is a Pendragon?)... It's boring and confusing, which is a deadly combination. There's a reason why people really don't know this particular book series--it ends pretty badly and okay, yeah, it's not Chronicles of Narnia. I have a copy of Abolition of Man somewhere, and I know I should probably read it next so everything will be fresh, but I've already read two other books to write about, that are much better (well, one is anyways). So... Yeah, I guess that's it. OH! And when writing for a character in a different language, find someone who actually speaks the language to help you. There's one Italian character in this book who speaks in broken English and he always says "ecco" instead of "here"--ecco means something like, "Here it is", like if you were trying to find your hat, your friend would say "Ecco!" if he got to it first. It doesn't mean here like "I am here". I don't know why it annoyed me so much, I have no right to be annoyed by it (straight Cs/Ds for three years in high school Italian, awww yeah!), but it's really the only thing I remember from Italian class, so goddammit CS Lewis, get your act together.
(Also can we note that at the bottom of my Perelandra post, I say "I really hope I find the third book soon. Although this series isn't stellar, it's pretty good." Dammit, CS Lewis.)
MLA Citation information: Lewis, CS. Out of the Silent Planet. Scribner: New York, 2003.
Lewis, CS. That Hideous Strength. Scribner: New York, 2003.
I've also seen this on a few "top 10 dystopic future books" lists, or lists of that flavour. Um... But... Everyone is stopped. And it's boring. Even if you didn't read the first two books about how awesome space is--it's b-b-b-boring. I mean, I got this copy for free, but man, I don't want to own it. I wish I had a copy of the second book instead, even if I had to pay for it, and even if it was really predictable and a little cliche.
Also, the New Yorker calls this book an elaborate satire--uh... Some parts are satiric, but this book definitely isn't a satire. (The New Yorker is also kind of lame, so...)
So this book starts off looking over the shoulders of the newly married Studdocks, Mark and Jane. For a very long time in the book I wasn't sure if Jane was a very to-the-point, accurate, and great picture of a realistic woman, or a picture of what CS Lewis would say was a wayward or not so great woman--turns out the second is true, but damn, if he didn't make that intention clear, I'd be damn impressed with the portrayal of Jane, because she is easy to empathize with and otherwise not an insulting picture of a woman. Oops.
Anyways, Mark really wants to get in with some new organization who are trying to clean the world by killing all livings things so everything will be antiseptic and perfect (that's revealed much later, Mark thinks they're just some university elites for a long time)... They're led by one of the guys from the first book (Devine? The one that didn't get possessed), and are clearly the forces of evil. They're going to achieve all of their stuff with a reanimated head and a reanimated Merlin? I... Okay, I don't really know. I have no goddamn clue, really. But they're the bad guys. Evil Maledils? I remember the terms but not what they refer to. Well... The forces of evil.
Meanwhile, his wife starts having dream-visions, and is eventually caught and protected by the good guys. She leads them right to the real Merlin.
Confused? Sorry, I... I really can't help you. This time it isn't my fault... This book is just...
In the introduction, CS Lewis compares this final book in the trilogy to his nonfiction work The Abolition of Man. I actually bought it a week or two before this book, so maybe when I read that I'll be able to figure out the point of this book (oops).
In the introduction, CS Lewis also says that if one is curious about what happens next, they'll have to wait for JRR Tolkien's book--the book he promised CS Lewis he'd write that he never actually wrote.
So. Many of my first notes regard Jane and her reaction to suddenly being married, the fear of becoming domestic, or somehow losing a part of her in this union, which I would say are, if not legitimate fears, undoubtedly very normal. Of course, I've already explained how any positive point I could have made about that has already been proven moot, so let's just move on, shall we?
Also pretty early on they start discussing mythology and legends (Merlin and such), which is pretty boring--you wouldn't think so, but it is. Also it seems kind of erroneous. Jane's maternal friend, Mrs Dimble, starts talking about how, when King Arthur "invaded" (Lewis 29), there undoubtedly would have been a large sect of British people still wearing togas and speaking Latin and such. Now, to be honest, I don't know a lot about the King Arthur legends, or when they're supposed to be set (I read Beowulf first, so how could you expect me to even care?)--but that just doesn't seem right. The Latin carrying on and becoming changed seems plausible. But the togas? Purely Roman? I can imagine their affects still being there and on the people, but... I kind of picture King Arthur as being a year 1000 kind of thing--which may be wrong in itself. But this doesn't seem to bode for me. (Especially when they mention the high Druid population on the other side of the coin--Romans took particular pleasure in killing Druids and torturing them, and I feel like even Christian Romans would put them to death. So the two societies living simultaneously doesn't seem plausible in the slightest.)
On page 39, Feverstone--Devine (oh, I just got it, like "Divine", but he turns out to be a false prophet)--mentions Weston's murder to Mark to try to explain how evil NICE's (the evil organization is in fact named NICE) enemies are. Again, Weston was possessed by the evil entity and had to be killed, but Mark buys it hook, line, and sinker, and of course Devine wouldn't see their business as evil.
Oh--and Mark says that anything that will preserve the human race is for him. If you'll recall, this blind goal is what made Devine and Weston's twisted nature so clear in the first book: "'You do not love any one of your race... You do not love the mind of your race, nor the body. Any kind of creature will please you if only it is begotten by your kind as they now are'" (Out of the Silent Planet 137). As long as mankind can live on, maybe become better, but as long as sex still works, that's what counts. (Oyarsa says that, in case if you were wondering).
Also, Devine calls from the liquidation/sterilization of "unfit races" (Lewis 49)--one, buying into eugenics, and two, emulating Hitler in a book set during the very last year of WWII--which Mark doesn't seem to pick up on at all. He describes a very Aldous Huxley-like view of the future, with pre-natal education, and one which completely shapes the victim and eats at free will... Mark calls it stupendous instead of being horrified.
Oh, and killing every living thing on earth doesn't bother him either.
Anyways. The two are kind of disconnected. The major satirical element of this book which overall is not a satire is Captain Hardcastle--well, that's not her title, but if you grew up reading Roald Dahl, it's all but instinct to include Captain with Hardcastle. Anyways, she's supposed to be, as I see it, the opposite of Jane, or the worst case scenario of Jane, or something. She's a masculine woman, disgustingly so--she won't wear a corset, she chews tobacco, drinks hard alcohol (whiskey), and smokes huge cigars, talks like a man... Her nickname is "Fairy"--I'm not up on on forties slang, but today I'm sure you know, that's slang for a gay man. And, uh, smoking cigars? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but there is no way in hell CS Lewis wasn't trying to illustrate some kind of penis envy along with making Hardcastle gross and manly in the worst ways. Mark is also very grossed out by her and at one point the idea of having sex with her comes up and he starts feeling nauseous. The Fairy asks if maybe Jane is angry with her husband, or perhaps a little jealous because he spends so much time at NICE, with her, and Mark suffers "uncontrollable disgust" (Lewis 184). Oh! And she leads her own police squad made up of girls--very stereotypical teenage girls, might I add. My opinion? Feminism is great, equality is awesome, but unsexing yourself and becoming so intensely manly is not becoming in the slightest.
Okay. Well, again, Jane is supposed to be pictured as a kind of wayward and headstrong girl and maybe not a good Christian woman or whatever, but then I'm one too, because I empathize with her a lot. While Mark is meeting the Fairy, Jane is having her dreams analyzed by the forces of good--something Jane, given her nature, doesn't completely believe. "She was not indeed sure that it was nonsense; but she had already resolved to treat it as if it were. She would not get 'mixed up in it', would not get drawn in. One had to live one's own life. To avoid entanglements and interferences had long been one of her first principles. Even when she discovered that she was going to marry Mark if he asked her, she though, 'But I must still keep up my own life', had arisen at once and had never for more than a few minutes at a stretch been absent from her mind. Some resentment against love itself, and therefore against Mark, for thus invading her life, remained" (Lewis 70-71). It's a little improper, but again, I think it's easy to see where she's coming from. (And if not, at least consider what year this book is set in.)
Captain Hardcastle/the Fairy makes a point about how it's much easier to fool an educated man with opinions in the paper, whereas a working class man will just assume it's all lies. This I can see, though again, it doesn't have 100% accuracy--yeah, you're going to agree with an opinion you read, and you can be tricked into it and influenced very easily. (It happens to EVERYONE!) I wouldn't say the split between classes makes you more or less susceptible, but England has traditionally had a clearer divide in terms of classes, so maybe that fed some of what CS Lewis had to say about that... Maybe...
Skip to page 145, which is when I realized that CS Lewis wasn't making a stronger female character. She has met the "Director", that is, the leader of the good guys--his name is different, but it's just good old Ransom. His name was changed for legal reasons that are clumsily explained (so he could claim some inheritance? Changing the names was a term of it?), and that's clearly CS Lewis trying to not be obvious about who it is and leave you guessing, but honestly, I realized who it was immediately. He appears much more youthful in this book; in the other books I kind of imagined him as stodgier and older, for whatever reason.
One of the side effects of his journey is that animals recognize his touch of the divine and naturally come to him. I mention this mostly because he has a pet black bear named Mr Bultitude, which is disgustingly adorable. I also mention that many of the times you see him, he is accompanied by a few jackdaws. What's a jackdaw, you may ask? Well, in The Magician's Nephew, a Jackdaw makes (or is) the first joke (in Narnia). I've come to the conclusion that Jackdaws must represent something important to CS Lewis to have been specifically mentioned, and not once but twice. (Let's not forget that Ransom is a Christ figure himself, after "death", and obviously Aslan is Aslan.) Hope? Humour? Whatever it is, they must have meant something special to him.
Oh! And yeah, he tells Jane that she'd be happier in her marriage if she were just a little more obedient. Probably true, but it still makes him sound like something of a jerk--"'[You] have lost love because you never attempted obedience'" (Lewis 145). We can agree that that makes him sound like a jerk, right? Also he says equality is not the "deepest thing" (Lewis 145)... Keep in mind, though, CS Lewis wasn't married until very late in his life, and probably was never really involved romantically with anyone (other than JRR Tolkien, of course)--CS Lewis even (kind of) makes amends for himself a few pages later--Mrs Dimble, I believe, says something along the lines of take what he says with a grain of salt, he's never been married and is kind of old-fashioned. So at least CS Lewis kind of admits that he's not entirely sure of what he's talking about, or only sure of it in a theoretical sense. Also... This is a side note, but he calls humility an erotic necessity... I... Not sure where he's going with that one.
After Ransom explains this all to her, he calls some mice of his in to eat up the crumbs they have dropped from their teatime snack. He does this to demonstrate how very different creatures can in fact live in harmony--but I believe it could also be a reference to a section in The Book of Common Prayer--"We do not presume to come to this thy Table (O merciful Lord) trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We be not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy: Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the Flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his Blood, in these holy Mysteries, that we may continually dwell in him, and he in us, that our sinful bodies may be made clean by his Body, and our souls washed through his most precious Blood. Amen" (Source). This prayer exists in Anglican/Protestant religion, so CS Lewis was definitely aware of it.
Hmm... Plot, plot... At around this point, Jane is captured by Captain Hardcastle, but saved by the good guys. She will not see her husband (and vice versa) for the rest of the book. Their camps have been permanently separated now.
The next page I marked is just Jane getting used to life in her new home. The men do all the work one day, the women the next, and so on. It makes an interesting point about how men are specific--say, the sugar goes in the green bowl that is on top of x cupboard, and a women will say put that in the the thing. I only mark it because that may seem like another silly mistake by CS Lewis, but nope, my mom does this all the time, and yeah, I do too.
Mark, meanwhile, is taken to see the Head of NICE--literally a reanimated head. I just thought that was kind of silly (and really gross).
"If you must see ghosts, it is better not to disbelieve in them" (Lewis 203).
There's a cook named MacPhee with the good guys. He is a tough guy, willing to do whatever Ransom needs, but Ransom says it's useless--because he doesn't believe in the cause. He adds that he is "'...perfectly ready... in and for this emergency, to allow the existence of these eldils of yours and of a being called Maledil whom they regard as their king'" (Lewis 222). Obviously he can say he'll believe, and maybe if the times are desperate enough he will believe (put me in any horror movie and I'll get religious real quick too)--but he won't truly have faith. And the Blair Witch will kill him. Maybe he shouldn't have mocked those cairns, but nooo, had to go ahead and move them...
Ah! So, Mark isn't a bad guy. NICE frames him for murder and threatens to have him arrested when he tries to leave them and find Jane. He is often deluded by visions of grandeur, but it's not bad, he's just... Well, very pliable. But he decides immortality is silly. He obsesses over death, rather than paying attention to the fact that he'd have an afterlife. He's more worried about his body not being in working order, and he doesn't care about his soul. THIS IS A BAD SIGN IN A CS LEWIS BOOK! He is clearly being marked as an immoral, or at least painfully foolish person.
Yeah, next mark is that he believes he is right--fighting for and with Jane from behind enemy lines, a martyr... Mark is being marked, haha. He also decides to do the right thing--or what he believes is the right thing--but then becomes depressed when he realizes how hard it will be and takes a nap instead. CS Lewis is planting red flags and also throwing rocks at us all at once.
Next note: the good guys get Merlin, the bad guys awaken some guy who isn't Merlin but a fake. Who is he? What happens to him at the end of the book? Uh.... I guess he dies? I don't know who he is though. I for real have no clue. From Wikipedia, I think that Merlin trades clothes with a tramp and NICE sees the clothes and assumes it's Merlin... But could a tramp really fool them that well? I mean, late in the book he appears to hypnotize Mark, or maybe Mark is just exhausted...? Oh well. Anyways, sometimes they refer to Merlin as Merlin, and sometimes Merlinus. Why?
Oh also Ransom is a Pendragon!!! Clumsy plot devices for everyone!!!
Oh and they namedrop Middle Earth. I know it's an archaic term for Earth (being in between heaven and hell, see?), but I also know that JRR Tolkien was CS Lewis's boyfriend, soooo...
Jane complains about more marital problems, how men never listen to everything women have to say, whatever. Maggs, another woman, quotes Mrs Dimble: "'"Did it ever come into your mind to ask whether anyone could listen to all we say?"'" (Lewis 300). BAM. This is fair, I think. It made me laugh, at least. Also, Kurt Vonnegut: "Freud said he didn’t know what women wanted. I know what women want. They want a whole lot of people to talk to. What do they want to talk about? They want to talk about everything" (A Man Without a Country 47).
The book kind of continues in theological debates and NICE politics for a long time. I'm sure important things happen between pages 70-300, but... Well, he spends too much time on the uninteresting stuff. Theological debates are interesting, especially when CS Lewis makes them, but these are so superfluous. I don't think I'd like the book even without them (the cool thing about the first two Spacer Trilogy books was that they were in space!), but at least it would be more to the point. Anyways, in the other two, religious debate is pretty seamlessly in there--okay, yes, the second book became a little cliched and obvious, but I don't recall it ever being so painfully boring and dragged out. Why mention this now? On page 303, the book suddenly becomes interesting, when the book inexplicably starts being told from the view of Mr Bultitude, Ransom's pet bear. I'm sure he's supposed to represent a good soul or a perfect soul in its animalistic simplicity, but whatever, Mr Bultitude is adorable and I cannot handle it.
Okay. I don't have any notes at all until the end of the book. The climactic scene takes place in a dining hall. NICE, thinking they have Merlin, hold a big celebration in congratulations for... getting him...? Well, the real Merlin is there too. He summons animals to attack and kill the leading members of NICE, and a lot of the guests... Listen, I'm not saying that it was really the Animorphs, but they were attacked by a tiger, an elephant, a bear, a gorilla, a wolf, and a snake (Ax has a snake morph!). So. Just saying.
And then Merlin puts the same curse as God put on the tower of Babel on the enemies who were left--that is, that they all would speak different languages so they couldn't understand each other (though in this book they appear to actually be speaking just gibberish).
Oh, and on page 370, "poor" is spelled "pore". Gross.
Anyways, the falling action gets weird, as this quickly becomes the only CS Lewis to feature bears having sex, and elephants having sex. In celebration of the bad guys being wiped out (remember, they wanted to wipe all life from the earth and make it completely sterile), all the animals in the area suddenly get really... excited. Mr Bultitude gets laid, the jackdaw flies out the window to pursue a mate... Ransom actually tells Mr Bultitude to "'Take her, Bultitude. But not in the house'" (Lewis 375). They open the window and find the elephant from before, now making a lady elephant his lady, and when one man goes to close the curtains so no-one has to see elephants doing the nasty, one of the women says: "'No... There will be nothing unfit for anyone to see. Draw them wider'" (Lewis 377). What the hell, CS Lewis. Yeah, maybe we shouldn't view it as indecent, but no-one wants to see that! The lady goes on to say that they are dancing--yeah, the horizontal monster mash. WHY ARE THESE THINGS HAPPENING?? Why, CS Lewis, whyyyy?
Anyways, Mark survives. The book ends with both Jane and Mark thinking about how they will react to one another and what their lives will be like--Mark realizes that he does truly love Jane, the end of the book gives a feeling that Jane loves him (or at least is very affectionate towards him) and it ends before they meet. The ending actually isn't that bad. I mean, the actual end as in the last few sentences, not all the animal sex parts. That's still weird. But the last few sentences wrap up the book (at least Mark and Jane's drama) nicely.
.........So. I guess I've made my opinion on the book pretty clear many times throughout this. It's only a step above A Horse and His Boy, in terms of CS Lewis books--that is, it's nearly my least favourite. (Then again, I read A Horse and His Boy at least once, too.) It's just not great, it's bumbling, it's full of awkward attempts to save its own skin on the part of the author (hey, did you know that Ransom is a Pendragon?)... It's boring and confusing, which is a deadly combination. There's a reason why people really don't know this particular book series--it ends pretty badly and okay, yeah, it's not Chronicles of Narnia. I have a copy of Abolition of Man somewhere, and I know I should probably read it next so everything will be fresh, but I've already read two other books to write about, that are much better (well, one is anyways). So... Yeah, I guess that's it. OH! And when writing for a character in a different language, find someone who actually speaks the language to help you. There's one Italian character in this book who speaks in broken English and he always says "ecco" instead of "here"--ecco means something like, "Here it is", like if you were trying to find your hat, your friend would say "Ecco!" if he got to it first. It doesn't mean here like "I am here". I don't know why it annoyed me so much, I have no right to be annoyed by it (straight Cs/Ds for three years in high school Italian, awww yeah!), but it's really the only thing I remember from Italian class, so goddammit CS Lewis, get your act together.
(Also can we note that at the bottom of my Perelandra post, I say "I really hope I find the third book soon. Although this series isn't stellar, it's pretty good." Dammit, CS Lewis.)
MLA Citation information: Lewis, CS. Out of the Silent Planet. Scribner: New York, 2003.
Lewis, CS. That Hideous Strength. Scribner: New York, 2003.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen
So this book is really, really awesome. It ends a little suddenly, and it has a weird needless interlude, but other than that it is so good. So it starts off with Catherine, our heroine (as Austen never forgets to remind us), visiting Bath for the first time (WATCH OUT FOR WICKHAM!). She makes friends with a girl named Isabella, who I had a great dislike for from the start--I'm just saying, she seemed like bad news to me from the get-go. Female intuition? Sure, why not? So she meets this fellow, Henry Tilney (I find it interesting that he's referred to by his first name, when Mr Darcy hardly ever is. I wonder why that's so... Change of time and customs, maybe? Though I believe they were only written ten years apart, if that...) and instantly falls for him, though Isabella seems quite interested in pushing her stupid brother on her. Isabella's family does everything in their power to keep Catherine away from the Tilneys, which leads to several scenes where if I could blue skiddoo into books, punching would have occurred. Meanwhile, Isabella starts flirting with Henry's brother and basically becomes the female Willoughby (I could kill her, I really could!). Catherine visits the Tilneys and the weird interlude is when Catherine imagines that Henry's father killed his wife because he seems unaffected when people mention her. It makes sense in that Austen warns us that she enjoys Gothic novels and scary stories but at the same time it's kind of distracting and from Jane Austen, it feels like it's coming straight out of left field. And then a little while later Catherine goes home and the end magically occurs. Awesome! Now let's get to this...
First of all, instead of saying etc. or et cetera, people back in the day just used &c. That's awesome because one, it's an ampersand (though I don't really like it touching the c. It's a little too awesome for the c, but okay, fine) and it makes sense. 'Et' means 'and' in Latin, and I think it may mean that in Spanish too. Maybe. Yes, I thought it was worthwhile to mention this. Please stop judging me.
There's a biographical note from the 1818 edition included within this edition. Here is a section from its first paragraph: "And when the public, which has not been insensible to the merits of 'Sense and Sensibility,' 'Pride and Prejudice,' 'Mansfield Park,' and 'Emma,' shall be informed that the hand which guided that pen is now mouldering in the grave, perhaps a brief account of Jane Austen will be read with a kindlier sentiment than simple curiosity" (3). Those... Those Victorians sure have a way with words... Talk about tact.
"No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to be an heroine" (13). All right, comma splice and weird improper use of language aside, Jane Austen once again creates a great (and somewhat backhanded) opening sentence.
"Mrs Allen was one of that numerous class of females, whose society can raise no other emotion than surprise at there being any men in the world who could like them well enough to marry them" (20). MRS BENNET? This kind of makes me wonder if Jane's mother or one of her aunts was like this...
Oh, when they first meet Mr Tilney, he tells them that he buys his own cravats. Boy knows his cravats? SNAP THAT MAN UP.
"'Thank you; for now we shall soon be acquainted, as I am authorized to tease you on this subject whenever we meet, and nothing in the world advances intimacy so much'" (29).
Jane Austen also interjects a lot too, in a Kurt Vonnegut-ish manner. I've been reading the Hipster Disney Tumblr, so I'm tempted to make a joke, but I'm going to resist. I think what may be more interesting is though this is one of the first books she wrote, I believe it wasn't published until after her death. I thought that this way of hers had developed in her later books (it comes through a little in Mansfield Park), but I guess not. Maybe that's why it wasn't published when it was originally submitted to the publisher...? The fact that she's a she probably didn't hurt either. But maybe that's why it tones down a little later on. (There will be more on this later...)
"Mr Tilney was no fonder of the play than the Pump-room" (35). A pump room, according to Google, is a microbrewery of sorts. (Perhaps a pub?) This is the only time I've seen her mention it, and she mentions it at least three times every fifteen pages. Before I looked it up (IE, before two minutes ago) I thought it was a sort of boiler-engine room sort of place (which doesn't even really make much sense in the story since it talks about men going there to smoke, but my brain is always keyed for steampunk, okay?), which made this really, really funny... Like Oscar Wilde if steampunk had actually happened when it should have... But now it's not. Sigh... I just want everything to be steampunk! And as long as I'm dreaming, I would also like to be dating Ben Barnes. Cool, thanks, bye.
Isabella starts talking about how partial she is to the profession of the clergyman (cough cough Catherine's brother) and she sighs a little dramatically when she tells Catherine about this. "Perhaps Catherine was wrong in not demanding the cause of that gentle emotion--but she was not experienced enough in the fineness of love, or the duties of friendship, to know when delicate raillery was properly called for, or when confidence should be forced" (36). Spoiler alert: nobody actually does. Even when they think they do and seem pretty confident, refrain from believing it. Trust me.
Anyways, here is a (long) example of what I mean by Jane Austen's little interludes:
"They... shut themselves up, to read novels together. Yes, novels;--for I will not adopt that ungenerous and impolitic custom so common with novel writers, of degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, to the number of which they are in themselves adding--joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing the harshest epithets on such work, and scarcely ever permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its insipid pages with disgust" (37). Okay, you know what, I can't put this all down here. She goes on for about two pages and starts lecturing the entire world because they honour authors such as Milton or Pope but then bash contemporary novelists and their novels and treat bookreading with shame. Et cetera, et cetera--it boils down to the fact that Jane Austen is not subtle. (Though I do agree with her.) This thought process will be echoed later in Pride and Prejudice, when someone degrades the importance of reading (when Elizabeth is teased for preferring reading to cardplaying?) and Mr Darcy says that he respects and agrees with that (or whatever it is exactly he says, all I know is that he's got Elizabeth's back) and earlier when he's talking about his library at Pemberly and someone is complimenting it and Mr Darcy's just like, psh, yeah, "'I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these'".
Oh, and Wilde complains about the same thing, possibly in his essay "The Critic as Artist" (don't quote me on that one, though...). He says that people should not use classics as bludgeons with which to beat new novels into shape. It's really well-written, though, I'm not doing it any credit at all... Then again, of course it's well written. Look who wrote it!
"Let us not desert one another; we are an injured body" (37). This actually does not occur in the story's context, this occurs in Jane Austen's little lecture. Authors of contemporary novels insult each other and put each other down (especially if their heroine picks up a book that is contemporary and puts it down with disgust) in an attempt to make themselves stand out and seem better or more moral or what have you, thus deserting each other when they really should be standing together and supporting each other under the public eye, and so on.
By the way, on page forty-eight we get an illustration of the stupidity of Mr Thorpe (Isabella's father), who is just as foolish as his daughter is a flighty scoundrel. Mr Thorpe is almost as stupid as the headmaster (or whoever it is Humbert Humbert speaks to at the girls' school) in Lolita. Catherine asks him if he has ever read Udolpho and he says that he never reads novels, for he always has something else to do. He then says that novels are "'all so full of nonsense and stuff; there has not been a tolerably decent one come out since Tom Jones, except the Monk; I read that t'other day; but as for all the others, they are the stupidest things in creation'" (49). Later he admits to liking the writing of "Mrs Radcliff"--the author of the book Catherine has suggested that Mr Thorpe read. He then attempts to cover for himself by saying he confused it with a French book named Camilla--a book which, despite my never reading it, he has clearly misunderstood its point and deeper meaning. Though I have never read anything of Tom Jones (though the name sounds familiar) or "the Monk", it's clear that he's exactly what Jane Austen has just railed against, and that he is a fool.
Isabella's brother attempts to attract Catherine--the whole family tries to pull them together in very annoying ways--and at one point he attempts to distract her from Mr Tilney by way of another dance. But how does he ask? "'I suppose you and I are to stand up and jig it together again'" (59). LINES THAT WOULD WORK ON ME. Well, if they were from someone other than John Thorpe. But still. I pretty much died laughing. I know it was probably normal slang for the time, but still. Best. Thing. Ever.
Also, like Mr Darcy, Catherine has an awesome "bugger off" scene. Mr Darcy's "bugger off" scene is when he's writing a letter to his sister and one of the girls who so desperately want to win his attention are continuously up in his grills, talking incessantly, and he shuts her down continuously. I'm not doing the scene any credit. (It's in the first half of the book, in case if you're so curious... One of my posts about Pride and Prejudice specifically probably include it, but you'll have to find that yourself.) Catherine's scene comes with Isabella--"'Do you know I get so immoderately sick of Bath; your brother and I were agreeing this morning that, though it is vastly well to be here for a few weeks, we would not live here for millions. We soon found out that our tastes were exactly alike in preferring the country to every other place; really, our opinions were so exactly the same, it was quite ridiculous! There was not a single point in which we differed; I would not have had you by for the world; you are such a sly thing, I am sure you would have made some droll remark or other about it.' 'No, indeed I should not.' 'Oh, yes you would indeed; I know you better than you know yourself. You would have told us that we seemed born for each other, or some nonsense of that kind, which would have distressed me beyond conception... I would not have had you by for the world.' 'Indeed you do me injustice; I would not have made so improper a remark upon any account; and besides, I am sure it would have never entered my head.' Isabella smiled incredulously, and talked the rest of the evening to James'" (70-71). SHUT DOWN, ISABELLA, SHUT DOWN LIKE A BITCH. OOOOH. Haha, awesome. I hate Isabella so much. Does it show? (Good job, Catherine, even if I'm not sure if you were intentionally shutting her down, but I'm pretty sure you were!)
"And now I may dismiss my heroine to the sleepless couch, which is the true heroine's portion; to a pillow strewn with thorns and wet with tears. And lucky may she think herself, if she get another good night's rest in the course of the next three months" (90). Okay, so Jane Austen's being a little bit of an intense romantic. But this is after the Thorpes attempt to separate Catherine from the Tilneys so that John Thorpe may be able to snap her up... UGH IT MAKES ME SO MAD. The Thorpes suck. Hey, I have an idea. Isabella can marry Mr Murdstone. Regret being a gold digger now!? Well, it's too damn late.
The means they do it by is forcing Catherine to break dates with the Tilneys (sometimes by actually using physical force) and then they make deceitful reasons up for Catherine. Is this high school right now, Thorpes? Your kid is a slovenly mess, your daughter is a gold digger, and you guys aren't exactly the plastics. I will fight all of you.
"'If I am wrong, I am doing what I believe to be right'" (100). Again, the Thorpes are trying to screw up Catherine's relationship with the Tilneys. Isabella and her brother literally grab her by the arms and hold her back. UGH, they make me so mad. While I was reading the book I wanted to hurt somebody. And I know Victorian women were supposed to be restrained and whatever, but I hate being manhandled. I would have seriously punched them both in the face. Or at least struggled. Maybe I would have kicked them. It would probably a little different from wrestling with my brother, in that they wouldn't be expecting it and I would have defeated ALL OF THE THORPES. Yeeeees. And the crowd goes wild! Can't you hear them cheering? Ah, my public! Don't dream it, be i--Oh, sorry. I'm confusing myself with Tim Curry again. My bad, sorry.
"'Young men and women driving about the country in open carriages!'" (104). NO! Anything but that! Say it isn't so, Jane! Next they'll be showing off their--dare I say it? Their ankles, and maybe even their shoulders! The very thought of it makes me faint...
"'A monstrous deal of good nature, and it is not only good nature, but you have so much, so much of every thing; and then you have such--upon my soul I do not know any body like you.' 'Oh! dear, there are a great many people like me, I dare say, only a great deal better'" (123). I love Catherine's cute little naive response to the compliments being placed upon her. Also, I love it when Jane Austen uses the adjective 'monstrous'. How much? I consider it equatable to my love of Colin Firth yelling...
So by the time volume II starts, Isabella starts growing distant because it's becoming clear that the Thorpes' plan isn't going to work out, and also because Isabella is a scheming manipulative little Willoughby. Man, Isabella is even worse than Susan! Catherine also takes a time at the Tilneys' where because of her love of Gothic horror novels becomes convinced that she will uncover some crazy mystery. She also becomes convinced that father Tilney poisoned his wife or something, because he didn't seem very upset when talking about his late wife (to be fair, she died nine years prior). This part of the book is kind of arduous to stick to--if it was any other author, it probably wouldn't be so bad, but from Jane Austen it was kind of like, uh... What the hell are you doing, Jane? The end is, like I must have mentioned but don't care to actually check, wraps things up sort of suddenly while playing off of this as well, so this bit is kind of what keeps it from being next to Emma on the 'classics' shelf. (Also: it's really bothering me that I can't think of what book would be on its other side. I'm pretty sure it would be The Martian Chronicles, but...) Anyways. This is kind of putting my 'final thoughts' paragraph first, but whatever. Let's continue, shall we...?
Oh, and Isabella tries to convince Catherine that she's always been in love with or eventually fell in love with the brother Thorpe. No, Isabella, your brother sucks. Then she attempts to make Catherine agree to an engagement and Catherine is just like no... And then Catherine's beloved's brother appears and the two of them start flirting and I could kill Isabella, for serious. I'm not going to blame the Tilney brother for being seduced by her, for clearly he's an idiot.
"'Circumstances change, opinions alter'" (146).
"'I wish your heart were independent. That would be enough for me.' 'My heart, indeed! What can you have to do with hearts? You men have none of you any hearts.' 'If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and they give us torment enough'" (147). This actually occurs between Isabella and her Frederick Tilney. This bit is okay, but then it becomes clear that he means it as a flirtation, not as a "I hate to look upon you because if you were a man your name would be Willoughby", it's a "It tortures me to see you if I can't be havingsex with you an open carriage ride with you.
"'No man is offended by another man's admiration of the women he loves; it is the women only who can make it a torment'" (151).
"'I understand; she is in love with James and flirts with Frederick.' 'Oh! no, not flirts. A woman in love with one man cannot flirt with another'" (151). This--especially the second bit, the first bit is just there for sort of context--seems like it could exist in one of Wilde's plays easily. (Speaking of which, I really need to reread those...)
So when Catherine is still convinced that father Tilney murdered his wife, she asks son that she's in love with about it. He gives the most backhanded description of him: "'You have erred in supposing him not attached to her. He loved her, I am persuaded, as well as it was possible for him to--We have not all, you know, the same tenderness of disposition--and I will not pretend to say that while lived, she might not often have had much to bear, but though his temper injured her, his judgment never did. His value of her was sincere; and, if not permanently, he was truly afflicted by her death'" (197). IE, "He loved her, probably, but he never showed it--I'm pretty sure he loved her though. Yeah. Really." Okay, snarkiness aside, I did like this passage, even as unsure as it is.
And theeeeeen I skip about another forty pages. Upon discovering that Isabella and Frederick Tilney have practically eloped, Catherine begs to go home and of course the Tilneys grant that wish. So...
"Catherine was too wretched to be fearful" (230).
"In the embrace [of her family], as she stepped from the carriage, she found herself soothed beyond any thing that she had believed possible... In the joyfulness of family love every thing for a short time was subdued" (233).
"For soon were all her thinking powers swallowed up in the reflection of her own change of feelings and spirits since last she had trodden that well-known road. It was not three months ago since, wild with joyful expectation, she had there run backwards and forwards some ten times a-day, with an heart light, gay, and independent; looking forward to pleasures untasted and unalloyed, and free from the apprehension from evil as from the knowledge of it. Three months ago had seen her all this; and now, how altered a being did she return!" (237).
"She was assured of [Henry's] affection; and that heart in return was solicited, which... they pretty equally knew was already entirely his own; for, though Henry was now sincerely attached to her, though he felt and delighted in all the excellencies of her character and truly loved her society, I must confess that his affection originated in nothing better than gratitude, or... that a persuasion of partiality for him had been the only cause of giving her a serious thought. It is a new circumstance in romance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory of an heroine's dignity; but if it be as new in common life, the credit of a wild imagination will at least be all my own" (243). First of all, why the hell can't Jane Austen seem to understand the proper use of 'an'? My guess is that she must 'ave 'ad an accent that cut out the 'h' like so. Thus, she was right for applying the 'an' rule... I guess. Well, whatever. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly Jane means by this passage. At first I thought that it was a sort of bitterness--then I was like nope, not possible. But then, I realized that yeah, it's possible. I definitely sense some bitterness, or at the very least biting sarcasm. I imagine that she liked somebody, but they could have cared less because she never did anything about it, or not enough to suggest anything more (this would also explain that line in Pride and Prejudice when someone--possibly Elizabeth's mother--says that women must show more than they actually feel). It could also be just Jane Austen complaining about novels of the time making overdramatic love stories (et tu, Jane Austen?) that are completely unrealistic and what Jane has described as an alternative is much more real, thus creating irony because her idea is not so wild or unusual at all. But funny story Jane Austen, your little love stories ARE unusual and wild. Life is not that nice! (Now who's being bitter?) Way to accidentally create your own standard that can't be lived up to, cough cough Mr Darcy cough that entire book cough.
So, father Tilney isn't ecstatic with Henry and Catherine's union, probably because Catherine was convinced that he murdered his wife. Okay, no. The real reason is that Isabella's brother got mad at Catherine for turning him down so he told the senior Tilney that Catherine's family was destitute. Henry doesn't even care, and he goes to marry anyways, and at that point papa Tilney is just like, whatever. I guess you're not as poor as I thought. Sure. I'm not even kidding you. Let me spoil the end real quick: "On the strength of this [discovery that they do have some money], the General, soon after Eleanor's marriage, permitted his son to return to Northanger, and thence made him the bearer of his consent, very courteously worded in a page full of empty professions to Mr. Morland. The event which it authorized soon followed: Henry and Catherine were married, the bells rang and every body smiled... It will not appear, after all the dreadful delays occasioned by the General's cruelty, that they were essentially hurt by it. To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen is to do pretty well; and professing myself moreover convinced, that the General's unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this work be altogether to recommend parental tyranny, or reward filial disobedience" (252). Although Jane wraps it all up nicely (I must admit) it's just like, ummmm, I'm done writing now. Peace! The problem solves itself in less than two pages, and this whole conclusion of happy marriage I've just quoted for you is literally back-to-back with the General realizing that they weren't exactly beggars. Maybe the in-between stuff would have been a tad boring, but at least it would have seemed a little more fleshed out than the General just shrugging and saying, "Well, I guess this isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to the family." Lazy writing, Jane! (I guess this post did turn out kind of bipolar, though not as bad as Mansfield Park, of course. I fully intended to go into this praising Jane to the heavens.) Oh well. I still like her a whole lot. I love Jane Austen--I guess it's kind of like my abuse of Jeff Goldblum. I love him, but I guess it's hard to tellsome most all of the time.
Either way, this is definitely an Austen book I'd suggest to people. It may be a little sloppy, but that's probably just because that this is probably her actual first book (or at least the second).
Speaking of it being sloppy, I'm pretty sure I was praising her for writing her own straight-up commentary into the book, like Kurt Vonnegut is wont to. I've since decided that she didn't do it out of genius or novelty (well, maybe a little out of novelty), but that she didn't do it with finesse--because she didn't really know... how to write, if you know what I mean. Still, not half-bad at all.
Also, she seriously abuses semicolons. Like, I feel like I need to go through semicolon detox. Jeez, Jane. I should go reread Lord of the Rings. When you find a semicolon in there you know you've got something special... Even though there are pretty much a million places where semicolons would be appropriate and preferred, TOLKIEN.
Oh, and there was a page I marked but couldn't remember why I marked till I lost it--it is mentioned, while Catherine is riding home, that she must stop to change the horses. That's so weird! I mean, I guess it makes sense--you can't just run the horse till it dies, and I mean you can't just fill it with gas or give it an oil change and it be good for another fifty miles... But what of the horses? How do you get your horses back? Was all of Regency England just forever trading horses across the country? How did these things work?
Also, I finished this book while I was the mic runner for the school musical, Working. It was pretty fun to see people rushing in and out of boiler room trying to get their outfits on in time or picking up mics or what have you while I was very placidly just reading Jane Austen by flashlight.
MLA Citation Information: Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. Oxford University Press: London, 1975.
What else? Lately my brain has just been shutting down. I've been spelling wild "Wilde" and further "Furthur". The first one is my own fault, and the second one is usually accompanied with me silently cursing Robby D.
Also, does anybody remember Animorphs? Can anybody believe that it's been ten years since it ended? I sure can't... How did life go on? I thought I would die when it ended, for real. But here I am... Watching Doctor Who... Oh my God. Animorphs/Doctor crossover. How hard would it be!? (Well, the Andalites would probably have some trouble with the Doctor. Christopher Eccleston would probably Marco out, David would have been more of a Jake, and Matt... Matt would be funny Marco, not paranoid, kind of crazy Marco.) But yeah. The world should think about this. Or maybe the BBC could make a good Animorphs TV series? I'd trust them with it.
Last post's cryptic song lyrics: Technologic by Daft Punk (By the way, this is just the radio edit of it; the music video was made for that version of it)
This post's cryptic song lyrics: C-c-c-cinnamon lips and candy kisses on my tongue--fu-un. B-b-b-buttery eyes, if only cries could come from those eyes. Oh! Have you landed and if so, would you let me know? I'm tired of looking up into those starry eyes--
PS. Spellcheck decided to completely peace out this time around. Sorry! I've tried to weed out errors best I could.
First of all, instead of saying etc. or et cetera, people back in the day just used &c. That's awesome because one, it's an ampersand (though I don't really like it touching the c. It's a little too awesome for the c, but okay, fine) and it makes sense. 'Et' means 'and' in Latin, and I think it may mean that in Spanish too. Maybe. Yes, I thought it was worthwhile to mention this. Please stop judging me.
There's a biographical note from the 1818 edition included within this edition. Here is a section from its first paragraph: "And when the public, which has not been insensible to the merits of 'Sense and Sensibility,' 'Pride and Prejudice,' 'Mansfield Park,' and 'Emma,' shall be informed that the hand which guided that pen is now mouldering in the grave, perhaps a brief account of Jane Austen will be read with a kindlier sentiment than simple curiosity" (3). Those... Those Victorians sure have a way with words... Talk about tact.
"No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to be an heroine" (13). All right, comma splice and weird improper use of language aside, Jane Austen once again creates a great (and somewhat backhanded) opening sentence.
"Mrs Allen was one of that numerous class of females, whose society can raise no other emotion than surprise at there being any men in the world who could like them well enough to marry them" (20). MRS BENNET? This kind of makes me wonder if Jane's mother or one of her aunts was like this...
Oh, when they first meet Mr Tilney, he tells them that he buys his own cravats. Boy knows his cravats? SNAP THAT MAN UP.
"'Thank you; for now we shall soon be acquainted, as I am authorized to tease you on this subject whenever we meet, and nothing in the world advances intimacy so much'" (29).
Jane Austen also interjects a lot too, in a Kurt Vonnegut-ish manner. I've been reading the Hipster Disney Tumblr, so I'm tempted to make a joke, but I'm going to resist. I think what may be more interesting is though this is one of the first books she wrote, I believe it wasn't published until after her death. I thought that this way of hers had developed in her later books (it comes through a little in Mansfield Park), but I guess not. Maybe that's why it wasn't published when it was originally submitted to the publisher...? The fact that she's a she probably didn't hurt either. But maybe that's why it tones down a little later on. (There will be more on this later...)
"Mr Tilney was no fonder of the play than the Pump-room" (35). A pump room, according to Google, is a microbrewery of sorts. (Perhaps a pub?) This is the only time I've seen her mention it, and she mentions it at least three times every fifteen pages. Before I looked it up (IE, before two minutes ago) I thought it was a sort of boiler-engine room sort of place (which doesn't even really make much sense in the story since it talks about men going there to smoke, but my brain is always keyed for steampunk, okay?), which made this really, really funny... Like Oscar Wilde if steampunk had actually happened when it should have... But now it's not. Sigh... I just want everything to be steampunk! And as long as I'm dreaming, I would also like to be dating Ben Barnes. Cool, thanks, bye.
Isabella starts talking about how partial she is to the profession of the clergyman (cough cough Catherine's brother) and she sighs a little dramatically when she tells Catherine about this. "Perhaps Catherine was wrong in not demanding the cause of that gentle emotion--but she was not experienced enough in the fineness of love, or the duties of friendship, to know when delicate raillery was properly called for, or when confidence should be forced" (36). Spoiler alert: nobody actually does. Even when they think they do and seem pretty confident, refrain from believing it. Trust me.
Anyways, here is a (long) example of what I mean by Jane Austen's little interludes:
"They... shut themselves up, to read novels together. Yes, novels;--for I will not adopt that ungenerous and impolitic custom so common with novel writers, of degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, to the number of which they are in themselves adding--joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing the harshest epithets on such work, and scarcely ever permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its insipid pages with disgust" (37). Okay, you know what, I can't put this all down here. She goes on for about two pages and starts lecturing the entire world because they honour authors such as Milton or Pope but then bash contemporary novelists and their novels and treat bookreading with shame. Et cetera, et cetera--it boils down to the fact that Jane Austen is not subtle. (Though I do agree with her.) This thought process will be echoed later in Pride and Prejudice, when someone degrades the importance of reading (when Elizabeth is teased for preferring reading to cardplaying?) and Mr Darcy says that he respects and agrees with that (or whatever it is exactly he says, all I know is that he's got Elizabeth's back) and earlier when he's talking about his library at Pemberly and someone is complimenting it and Mr Darcy's just like, psh, yeah, "'I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these'".
Oh, and Wilde complains about the same thing, possibly in his essay "The Critic as Artist" (don't quote me on that one, though...). He says that people should not use classics as bludgeons with which to beat new novels into shape. It's really well-written, though, I'm not doing it any credit at all... Then again, of course it's well written. Look who wrote it!
"Let us not desert one another; we are an injured body" (37). This actually does not occur in the story's context, this occurs in Jane Austen's little lecture. Authors of contemporary novels insult each other and put each other down (especially if their heroine picks up a book that is contemporary and puts it down with disgust) in an attempt to make themselves stand out and seem better or more moral or what have you, thus deserting each other when they really should be standing together and supporting each other under the public eye, and so on.
By the way, on page forty-eight we get an illustration of the stupidity of Mr Thorpe (Isabella's father), who is just as foolish as his daughter is a flighty scoundrel. Mr Thorpe is almost as stupid as the headmaster (or whoever it is Humbert Humbert speaks to at the girls' school) in Lolita. Catherine asks him if he has ever read Udolpho and he says that he never reads novels, for he always has something else to do. He then says that novels are "'all so full of nonsense and stuff; there has not been a tolerably decent one come out since Tom Jones, except the Monk; I read that t'other day; but as for all the others, they are the stupidest things in creation'" (49). Later he admits to liking the writing of "Mrs Radcliff"--the author of the book Catherine has suggested that Mr Thorpe read. He then attempts to cover for himself by saying he confused it with a French book named Camilla--a book which, despite my never reading it, he has clearly misunderstood its point and deeper meaning. Though I have never read anything of Tom Jones (though the name sounds familiar) or "the Monk", it's clear that he's exactly what Jane Austen has just railed against, and that he is a fool.
Isabella's brother attempts to attract Catherine--the whole family tries to pull them together in very annoying ways--and at one point he attempts to distract her from Mr Tilney by way of another dance. But how does he ask? "'I suppose you and I are to stand up and jig it together again'" (59). LINES THAT WOULD WORK ON ME. Well, if they were from someone other than John Thorpe. But still. I pretty much died laughing. I know it was probably normal slang for the time, but still. Best. Thing. Ever.
Also, like Mr Darcy, Catherine has an awesome "bugger off" scene. Mr Darcy's "bugger off" scene is when he's writing a letter to his sister and one of the girls who so desperately want to win his attention are continuously up in his grills, talking incessantly, and he shuts her down continuously. I'm not doing the scene any credit. (It's in the first half of the book, in case if you're so curious... One of my posts about Pride and Prejudice specifically probably include it, but you'll have to find that yourself.) Catherine's scene comes with Isabella--"'Do you know I get so immoderately sick of Bath; your brother and I were agreeing this morning that, though it is vastly well to be here for a few weeks, we would not live here for millions. We soon found out that our tastes were exactly alike in preferring the country to every other place; really, our opinions were so exactly the same, it was quite ridiculous! There was not a single point in which we differed; I would not have had you by for the world; you are such a sly thing, I am sure you would have made some droll remark or other about it.' 'No, indeed I should not.' 'Oh, yes you would indeed; I know you better than you know yourself. You would have told us that we seemed born for each other, or some nonsense of that kind, which would have distressed me beyond conception... I would not have had you by for the world.' 'Indeed you do me injustice; I would not have made so improper a remark upon any account; and besides, I am sure it would have never entered my head.' Isabella smiled incredulously, and talked the rest of the evening to James'" (70-71). SHUT DOWN, ISABELLA, SHUT DOWN LIKE A BITCH. OOOOH. Haha, awesome. I hate Isabella so much. Does it show? (Good job, Catherine, even if I'm not sure if you were intentionally shutting her down, but I'm pretty sure you were!)
"And now I may dismiss my heroine to the sleepless couch, which is the true heroine's portion; to a pillow strewn with thorns and wet with tears. And lucky may she think herself, if she get another good night's rest in the course of the next three months" (90). Okay, so Jane Austen's being a little bit of an intense romantic. But this is after the Thorpes attempt to separate Catherine from the Tilneys so that John Thorpe may be able to snap her up... UGH IT MAKES ME SO MAD. The Thorpes suck. Hey, I have an idea. Isabella can marry Mr Murdstone. Regret being a gold digger now!? Well, it's too damn late.
The means they do it by is forcing Catherine to break dates with the Tilneys (sometimes by actually using physical force) and then they make deceitful reasons up for Catherine. Is this high school right now, Thorpes? Your kid is a slovenly mess, your daughter is a gold digger, and you guys aren't exactly the plastics. I will fight all of you.
"'If I am wrong, I am doing what I believe to be right'" (100). Again, the Thorpes are trying to screw up Catherine's relationship with the Tilneys. Isabella and her brother literally grab her by the arms and hold her back. UGH, they make me so mad. While I was reading the book I wanted to hurt somebody. And I know Victorian women were supposed to be restrained and whatever, but I hate being manhandled. I would have seriously punched them both in the face. Or at least struggled. Maybe I would have kicked them. It would probably a little different from wrestling with my brother, in that they wouldn't be expecting it and I would have defeated ALL OF THE THORPES. Yeeeees. And the crowd goes wild! Can't you hear them cheering? Ah, my public! Don't dream it, be i--Oh, sorry. I'm confusing myself with Tim Curry again. My bad, sorry.
"'Young men and women driving about the country in open carriages!'" (104). NO! Anything but that! Say it isn't so, Jane! Next they'll be showing off their--dare I say it? Their ankles, and maybe even their shoulders! The very thought of it makes me faint...
"'A monstrous deal of good nature, and it is not only good nature, but you have so much, so much of every thing; and then you have such--upon my soul I do not know any body like you.' 'Oh! dear, there are a great many people like me, I dare say, only a great deal better'" (123). I love Catherine's cute little naive response to the compliments being placed upon her. Also, I love it when Jane Austen uses the adjective 'monstrous'. How much? I consider it equatable to my love of Colin Firth yelling...
So by the time volume II starts, Isabella starts growing distant because it's becoming clear that the Thorpes' plan isn't going to work out, and also because Isabella is a scheming manipulative little Willoughby. Man, Isabella is even worse than Susan! Catherine also takes a time at the Tilneys' where because of her love of Gothic horror novels becomes convinced that she will uncover some crazy mystery. She also becomes convinced that father Tilney poisoned his wife or something, because he didn't seem very upset when talking about his late wife (to be fair, she died nine years prior). This part of the book is kind of arduous to stick to--if it was any other author, it probably wouldn't be so bad, but from Jane Austen it was kind of like, uh... What the hell are you doing, Jane? The end is, like I must have mentioned but don't care to actually check, wraps things up sort of suddenly while playing off of this as well, so this bit is kind of what keeps it from being next to Emma on the 'classics' shelf. (Also: it's really bothering me that I can't think of what book would be on its other side. I'm pretty sure it would be The Martian Chronicles, but...) Anyways. This is kind of putting my 'final thoughts' paragraph first, but whatever. Let's continue, shall we...?
Oh, and Isabella tries to convince Catherine that she's always been in love with or eventually fell in love with the brother Thorpe. No, Isabella, your brother sucks. Then she attempts to make Catherine agree to an engagement and Catherine is just like no... And then Catherine's beloved's brother appears and the two of them start flirting and I could kill Isabella, for serious. I'm not going to blame the Tilney brother for being seduced by her, for clearly he's an idiot.
"'Circumstances change, opinions alter'" (146).
"'I wish your heart were independent. That would be enough for me.' 'My heart, indeed! What can you have to do with hearts? You men have none of you any hearts.' 'If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and they give us torment enough'" (147). This actually occurs between Isabella and her Frederick Tilney. This bit is okay, but then it becomes clear that he means it as a flirtation, not as a "I hate to look upon you because if you were a man your name would be Willoughby", it's a "It tortures me to see you if I can't be having
"'No man is offended by another man's admiration of the women he loves; it is the women only who can make it a torment'" (151).
"'I understand; she is in love with James and flirts with Frederick.' 'Oh! no, not flirts. A woman in love with one man cannot flirt with another'" (151). This--especially the second bit, the first bit is just there for sort of context--seems like it could exist in one of Wilde's plays easily. (Speaking of which, I really need to reread those...)
So when Catherine is still convinced that father Tilney murdered his wife, she asks son that she's in love with about it. He gives the most backhanded description of him: "'You have erred in supposing him not attached to her. He loved her, I am persuaded, as well as it was possible for him to--We have not all, you know, the same tenderness of disposition--and I will not pretend to say that while lived, she might not often have had much to bear, but though his temper injured her, his judgment never did. His value of her was sincere; and, if not permanently, he was truly afflicted by her death'" (197). IE, "He loved her, probably, but he never showed it--I'm pretty sure he loved her though. Yeah. Really." Okay, snarkiness aside, I did like this passage, even as unsure as it is.
And theeeeeen I skip about another forty pages. Upon discovering that Isabella and Frederick Tilney have practically eloped, Catherine begs to go home and of course the Tilneys grant that wish. So...
"Catherine was too wretched to be fearful" (230).
"In the embrace [of her family], as she stepped from the carriage, she found herself soothed beyond any thing that she had believed possible... In the joyfulness of family love every thing for a short time was subdued" (233).
"For soon were all her thinking powers swallowed up in the reflection of her own change of feelings and spirits since last she had trodden that well-known road. It was not three months ago since, wild with joyful expectation, she had there run backwards and forwards some ten times a-day, with an heart light, gay, and independent; looking forward to pleasures untasted and unalloyed, and free from the apprehension from evil as from the knowledge of it. Three months ago had seen her all this; and now, how altered a being did she return!" (237).
"She was assured of [Henry's] affection; and that heart in return was solicited, which... they pretty equally knew was already entirely his own; for, though Henry was now sincerely attached to her, though he felt and delighted in all the excellencies of her character and truly loved her society, I must confess that his affection originated in nothing better than gratitude, or... that a persuasion of partiality for him had been the only cause of giving her a serious thought. It is a new circumstance in romance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory of an heroine's dignity; but if it be as new in common life, the credit of a wild imagination will at least be all my own" (243). First of all, why the hell can't Jane Austen seem to understand the proper use of 'an'? My guess is that she must 'ave 'ad an accent that cut out the 'h' like so. Thus, she was right for applying the 'an' rule... I guess. Well, whatever. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly Jane means by this passage. At first I thought that it was a sort of bitterness--then I was like nope, not possible. But then, I realized that yeah, it's possible. I definitely sense some bitterness, or at the very least biting sarcasm. I imagine that she liked somebody, but they could have cared less because she never did anything about it, or not enough to suggest anything more (this would also explain that line in Pride and Prejudice when someone--possibly Elizabeth's mother--says that women must show more than they actually feel). It could also be just Jane Austen complaining about novels of the time making overdramatic love stories (et tu, Jane Austen?) that are completely unrealistic and what Jane has described as an alternative is much more real, thus creating irony because her idea is not so wild or unusual at all. But funny story Jane Austen, your little love stories ARE unusual and wild. Life is not that nice! (Now who's being bitter?) Way to accidentally create your own standard that can't be lived up to, cough cough Mr Darcy cough that entire book cough.
So, father Tilney isn't ecstatic with Henry and Catherine's union, probably because Catherine was convinced that he murdered his wife. Okay, no. The real reason is that Isabella's brother got mad at Catherine for turning him down so he told the senior Tilney that Catherine's family was destitute. Henry doesn't even care, and he goes to marry anyways, and at that point papa Tilney is just like, whatever. I guess you're not as poor as I thought. Sure. I'm not even kidding you. Let me spoil the end real quick: "On the strength of this [discovery that they do have some money], the General, soon after Eleanor's marriage, permitted his son to return to Northanger, and thence made him the bearer of his consent, very courteously worded in a page full of empty professions to Mr. Morland. The event which it authorized soon followed: Henry and Catherine were married, the bells rang and every body smiled... It will not appear, after all the dreadful delays occasioned by the General's cruelty, that they were essentially hurt by it. To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen is to do pretty well; and professing myself moreover convinced, that the General's unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this work be altogether to recommend parental tyranny, or reward filial disobedience" (252). Although Jane wraps it all up nicely (I must admit) it's just like, ummmm, I'm done writing now. Peace! The problem solves itself in less than two pages, and this whole conclusion of happy marriage I've just quoted for you is literally back-to-back with the General realizing that they weren't exactly beggars. Maybe the in-between stuff would have been a tad boring, but at least it would have seemed a little more fleshed out than the General just shrugging and saying, "Well, I guess this isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to the family." Lazy writing, Jane! (I guess this post did turn out kind of bipolar, though not as bad as Mansfield Park, of course. I fully intended to go into this praising Jane to the heavens.) Oh well. I still like her a whole lot. I love Jane Austen--I guess it's kind of like my abuse of Jeff Goldblum. I love him, but I guess it's hard to tell
Either way, this is definitely an Austen book I'd suggest to people. It may be a little sloppy, but that's probably just because that this is probably her actual first book (or at least the second).
Speaking of it being sloppy, I'm pretty sure I was praising her for writing her own straight-up commentary into the book, like Kurt Vonnegut is wont to. I've since decided that she didn't do it out of genius or novelty (well, maybe a little out of novelty), but that she didn't do it with finesse--because she didn't really know... how to write, if you know what I mean. Still, not half-bad at all.
Also, she seriously abuses semicolons. Like, I feel like I need to go through semicolon detox. Jeez, Jane. I should go reread Lord of the Rings. When you find a semicolon in there you know you've got something special... Even though there are pretty much a million places where semicolons would be appropriate and preferred, TOLKIEN.
Oh, and there was a page I marked but couldn't remember why I marked till I lost it--it is mentioned, while Catherine is riding home, that she must stop to change the horses. That's so weird! I mean, I guess it makes sense--you can't just run the horse till it dies, and I mean you can't just fill it with gas or give it an oil change and it be good for another fifty miles... But what of the horses? How do you get your horses back? Was all of Regency England just forever trading horses across the country? How did these things work?
Also, I finished this book while I was the mic runner for the school musical, Working. It was pretty fun to see people rushing in and out of boiler room trying to get their outfits on in time or picking up mics or what have you while I was very placidly just reading Jane Austen by flashlight.
MLA Citation Information: Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. Oxford University Press: London, 1975.
What else? Lately my brain has just been shutting down. I've been spelling wild "Wilde" and further "Furthur". The first one is my own fault, and the second one is usually accompanied with me silently cursing Robby D.
Also, does anybody remember Animorphs? Can anybody believe that it's been ten years since it ended? I sure can't... How did life go on? I thought I would die when it ended, for real. But here I am... Watching Doctor Who... Oh my God. Animorphs/Doctor crossover. How hard would it be!? (Well, the Andalites would probably have some trouble with the Doctor. Christopher Eccleston would probably Marco out, David would have been more of a Jake, and Matt... Matt would be funny Marco, not paranoid, kind of crazy Marco.) But yeah. The world should think about this. Or maybe the BBC could make a good Animorphs TV series? I'd trust them with it.
Last post's cryptic song lyrics: Technologic by Daft Punk (By the way, this is just the radio edit of it; the music video was made for that version of it)
This post's cryptic song lyrics: C-c-c-cinnamon lips and candy kisses on my tongue--fu-un. B-b-b-buttery eyes, if only cries could come from those eyes. Oh! Have you landed and if so, would you let me know? I'm tired of looking up into those starry eyes--
PS. Spellcheck decided to completely peace out this time around. Sorry! I've tried to weed out errors best I could.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne
Hey, I originally wrote about half of this post and then Leopold decided he hated me. It was cute. So, there's going to be less of an introduction, etc, out of pure stubbornness.
This book is about the Holocaust through the eyes of an eight- or nine-year-old boy named Bruno. His father is a general, and because of this he is assigned to oversee a place called Out-With--thus his whole family must move with him, despite their wishes.
The description on the back: "If you start to read this book, you will go on a journey with a nine-year-old boy named Bruno. (Thought this isn't a book for nine-year-olds.) And sooner or later you will arrive with Bruno at a fence. Fences like this exist all over the world. We hope you never have to encounter one."
The first thing you notice--one of the first things--is Bruno's trouble with words. Being a young boy, this is understandable and to be expected. He calls Hitler the 'Fury' and Auschwitz 'Out-With'. He also has trouble with the word 'Jews'. Usually I don't read the 'bonus material' in the back of books, but in this case I felt compelled to when I had finished the book. One of the 'book club' questions is pretty much "Bruno has trouble with certain words because he has a kid, he mispronounces and misunderstands them, etc, but do you think there could have been a greater reason why the author chose to make these changes? Some other significant meaning, or some such?" (It's a little more put together than that...) So okay, in that case, Hitler's is pretty much self-explanatory: fury is violent, passionate, actions done with great violence, vehemence, passion, and so on. But Out-With... Out-With I have grappled with. My best guess is that Auschwitz is removed from the community--or the people of the community have done their best to displace it from their community in their heads, or ignore it, or blind themselves (see Stephen King's novella 'Apt Pupil'), so it is 'out'... But being human they are 'with' these people, because they are united in the fact that they are fellow humans, or in that they can't really turn away, deep down they know, regardless of what they have told themselves... So they're... Together but removed, if you will. Out yet With.
As for Jews, he never hears it incorrectly--it just skirts the word until his sister teaches it to him outright. His reaction to it is that he likes the word, the sound of it and all.
One thing I will mention before I actually start pulling quotes and stuff is that John Boyne does a great job of writing like he is a child thinking. So... Yeah. Let's go:
"'If you ask me, we're all in the same boat. And it's leaking'" (58). This is Bruno complaining about the new living situation to their (Jewish) housekeeper, Maria. Maria of course gets panicked and tells him to stop complaining about the situation and his father, because if it wasn't for Bruno's father's influence, one, she would have been penniless, two, she'd most likely be in a death camp. But this quote is what Bruno says about the situation, which I find impressive. I mean... it seems very adult of him. Like, Bruno parrots back a lot of phrases like kids are apt to, though he doesn't understand them, but there is no precedent for this one. He's just like BAM. And then he modifies it. And I'm all impressed. Just thought I'd mention it.
"'He's crazy,' Bruno said, twirling his finger in circles around the side of his head and whistling to indicate just how crazy he thought he was. 'He went up to a cat on the street the other day and invited her over for afternoon tea.' 'What did the cat say?' asked Gretel, who was making a sandwich in the corner of the kitchen. 'Nothing,' explained Bruno. 'It was a cat'" (68). This is just a little interlude. Nothing really pivotal. But for some reason, I really, really like this bit. Like, originally I didn't mark it to mention but I couldn't stop thinking of it, so I went back and marked it. And here we are...
"'Just because a man glances up at the sky at night does not make him an astronomer, you know'" (82). This is said by Pavel, a Jewish cook--however he, unlike Maria, lives in the camp. He was a doctor before he was forced to become a cook.
"What exactly was the difference? he wondered to himself. And who decided which people wore the striped pajamas and which people wore the uniforms?" (100).
Ooookay. It actually takes kind of a long time to get to the boy named in the title. Not till halfway through the book, literally. Bruno decides to try out his favourite activity--exploring. Shmuel is a boy from inside the fence--and the boy of the title, of course. And the two become friends, of course. They start meeting each other at the fence to talk through it from their separate sides at certain appointed times in the day. They become best friends.
"'Shmuel.' [Bruno] thought about it. 'Shmuel,' he repeated. 'I like the way it sounds when I say it. Shmuel. It sounds like the wind blowing'" (108).
Oh, and Hitler appears in the book too. Bruno has a flashback to the reason why they move--Hitler and his girlfriend come to dinner, where Hitler tells his father that they must move. I can say honestly, that even when Hitler is just being represented by squiggles on a page, he is a scary, scary man. He makes stupid quips everyone must laugh at, and Gretel wants attention so she pipes up and says that she can speak French. Hitler immediately turns ice-cold and asks why she would want to. A very Visser Three-esque feeling, I get. Which makes sense, I suppose. But it's a very tense scene even just reading, because even though the kids don't really get what's up (or at least Bruno)... I mean, you (the reader) know it's Hitler. And that tends to be one of those things that makes a person nervous... He doesn't exactly have a great reputation. Also, it's kind of weird to think of Hitler as a character in a book. And by 'kind of' I mean really, really weird.
"The Fury was far shorter than Father and not, Bruno supposed, quite as strong. He had dark hair, which was cut quite short, and a tiny moustache--so tiny in fact that Bruno wondered why he bothered with it at all or whether he had simply forgotten a piece when he was shaving" (121).
So, Bruno meets with Shmuel. They become close, regardless of the fact that they can't... really... become physically close. Like actually play together or anything. But. During all of this, of course, life is going on as usual at Bruno's home. Normal, average things--like a lice infestation. Bruno gets his head shaved in an effort to combat them. Right around here, on page 184, you get a sinking feeling,
"'Do you miss your friends?' 'Well, yes,' [Bruno] replied, considering his answer carefully. 'But I think I'd miss people no matter where I went'" (189).
The spoilers will be in this next section. You have been warned. Bruno's mother's desire to go back home is eventually honoured and it's decided they will go back. Bruno is upset about leaving Shmuel--and Shmuel is upset too. He's upset about that and the fact that his father has disappeared and no-one can seem to find him. Bruno decides that for their last meeting they will explore together, and Bruno will help Shmuel find his father. Because his head his shaved, he will look like he'd fit in at the other end of the fence--just so long as they can get him a set of striped pajamas.
Hearing this plan, I literally was saying no under my breath. I was literally speaking to it--going, "Oh God, no no no." Whether you want to look at it or not, from that point on you know how it will end. It is not an inkling. It is as inevitable as, I don't know, nightfall. Daybreak. It is there. They boys are swept up in a march. Thus Bruno's portion of the story ends:
"And then the room went very dark and somehow, despite the chaos that followed, Bruno found that he was still holding Shmuel's hand in his own and nothing in the world would have persuaded him to let go" (213).
And deep down, for the fraction of the second it takes to turn the page, you still want to hope, even though your heart is already broken, but then: "Nothing more of Bruno was ever heard of Bruno after that" (214).
John Boyne ends with his own note. "...Only the victims and survivors can truly comprehend the awfulness of that time and place; the rest of us live on the other side of the fence, staring through from our own comfortable place, trying in our own clumsy ways to make sense of it all. Fences such as the one at the heart of The Boy in the Striped Pajamas still exist; it is unlikely that they will ever fully disappear. But whatever reaction you have to this story, I hope that the voices of Bruno and Shmuel will continue to resonate with you as they have with me. Their lost voices must continue to be heard; their untold stories must be continue to be recounted. For they represent the ones who didn't live to tell their stories themselves" (218).
Like I said, there's 'bonus material' in the back too. Some of it is an interview with John Boyne. He's an incredibly eloquent fellow.
"[The book] came to me originally as one single image, of two boys sitting on either side of a fence, having a conversation. And I knew where that fence was. I knew those two boys really shouldn't be there. They had no business being there" (4). (The extras are numbered separately.)
"One of the big questions, and one of the big facts about the Holocaust, is that so many people just were complacent and didn't do anything. It's what we call 'Hitler's willing executioners.' People who sat by and did nothing. It raises the question of if we were there at that time, would we all have stood up and done something? You'd like to think you would have. Would you have? That's the question that people have to ask themselves" (8).
I was so enthralled with the book that I even read the book catalogue in the back. It doesn't really have to do with anything, but I was pleased to see Robert Cormier's I Am The Cheese and Holes by Louis Sachar. Both of these books are amazing. There's also a Jerry Spinelli book in the catalogue called Milkweed, also about the Holocaust--which I want to read just because it's Jerry Spinelli, and he was my favourite author of all time for a looooong time. I actually remember seeing this book at the local library and for whatever reason not choosing to read it. (Probably so I'd be able to take out Space Station Seventh Grade again.)
Anyway. The book. It was--a book. The book was a book. I can't assign a word to it. It was it was, but not in a bad way, or a good way. I mean, it was--good--but, that's not the word. I don't know the word needed. But I personally think it should be read. At the very least, read the interviews with the author. It seems strange that you'd choose to just do that, but if anything, just do that.
As for the movie, I've yet to see it, and I'm not sure that I'd want to. I mean, I would, but maybe in the "If it comes up on Netflix streaming in my suggested or if it's on TV" way. You know? I wouldn't choose to watch it, but I would.
MLA citation information: Boyne, John. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. David Fickling Books: New York, 2006.
I also feel like this (instead of the cryptic lyrics, which will return next post) is appropriate--it's an episode of the Twilight Zone. It's called "Death's Head Revisited". It's about a general from Dachau who goes back to visit the camp after ten years to remember the 'good old days'. He's visited by the ghost of a man he killed and tortured (mentally) as the men he killed were tortured. The episode was mediocre at best, but I include a link to it for Rod Serling's conclusion speech. I think it is poignant, and it stands in the same way as this book stands, or at least in the same way as John Boyne intended it to stand. Start at 3:30. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwUvTNmvynQ
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Dreamcatcher by Stephen King
Whoo! Last post before I'm off to college! Yayyyy.
Let's get down to this. First off, I admit at first glance this book looked like it was going to be a cross between Tommyknockers and It, which are pretty much my two least favorite Stephen King books. It doesn't end up that way, thank goodness--it's actually more like... well, aliens are involved, but it has more of a feel like The Thing (the eighties remake) or Alien than anything else. Kind of like a Derry version of The Thing I guess, with some of the Yeerks thrown in. He lucked out actually, because that's probably my favorite sort of horror movie--they're there, but where and anyone could be them--a little less of that, but still it had that nice flavor to it.
Quick summary: Four friends, best buds through middle and high school. One day they meet and befriend a boy with Down's syndrome, Duddits (Douglas), and have a really great rest of school experience. Fast forward twenty or so years. All of the boys have gone their separate ways, all of them face separate problems. However, once a weekend in November they go on a hunting trip together. So this time is no different except a stranger with severe gas and strange mannerisms comes into the cabin they stay in. All is kind of fine till an alien creature claws its way out of his body via his butt and kills Beaver (one of the four friends). A different alien takes over another friend's body--Jonesy's--much like a Yeerk would, that is, drives him like you would a car, only a car that is still alive and functioning but trapped. (However, Jonesy has more freedom than a human-controller would.) And Duddits is the key to making everything right again too--that is, stop the alien in Jonesy's body from spreading his parasitic aliens across the tri-state area! I mean, the world. He is the dreamcatcher of the title, because he drew all four even closer and kind of made those years with him their greatest. I... guess. I'd be lying if I said I ever completely understand whatever Stephen King is trying to make me understand.
"To say that Beaver's marriage didn't work would be like saying that the launch of the Challenger space shuttle went a little bit wrong" (15).
A semi-interesting note: Stephen King apparently wrote this book while being laid up as a result of a car crash. Jonesy, very early on, before the start of the story really, is hit by a car and breaks his hip. Yeeeep.
The animals in the forest instinctively try to get away from the aliens and they go walking through the woods a la Fantasia during the Rite of Spring segment to do so. Beaver tries to scare off one of the deer by telling it to get "'Make like an amoeba and split!'" (111), which is a phrase I'm totally going to use more often. By the way, I totally pictured Beaver as Jeff Goldblum. They described him as a nerdy looking guy who you think would be a math whiz, has shoulder-length hair, kind of dorky, even the way he talks... I refuse to believe that Stephen King was doing anything other than taking a poke at Jeff Goldblum when he was writing about Beaver.
"Henry put his head down and jogged a little faster" (136). Oh shit, Henry--the mummy's after us.
A lot of the things in the book that would remind me of something else are discussed later on--Peter and Henry run into a lady while Beaver and Jonesy are dealing with their gassy guest who looks at the sky and yells "They're back, they're back!" Of course I thought of Poltergeist. This connection is made later on. The aliens that are parasites aren't dissimilar to the aliens from the Alien series either--at least when they've just broken from their human hosts--and the fungus that the aliens spread (think of Creepshow!) is referred to as the 'Ripley' after Sigourney Weaver's character from that series.
Duddits is a huge fan of Scooby-Doo. He has the little lunchbox, and when Henry first sees it his only comment is: "'I hate that f---in show... They never change their clothes, did you ever notice that? Wear the same f---in thing, show in and show out'" (140). I don't know... I just thought it was sort of funny....
So the little parasites--well, Beaver traps the thing in a toilet, but it breaks loose. It kills him, and before it can attack Jonesy he slams the bathroom door on it. Immediately he gets worried about if it can figure out the mechanics of the doorknob and it says "as if it had read his mind" (179) it starts trying to turn the doorknob. Of course, it's revealed later that the creatures are telepathic, but still... They can open doors. That is bad news.
Stephen King makes a Pokemon joke, too. I really think there's no better way but an 'lol' to express my amusement at this fact.
"Did they think that maybe he wouldn't be interested, that maybe he'd just go Ho-hum, been there, done that, got the tee-shirt?" (275). This is probably a very common saying, but I'd like to think that Stephen King is making a reference to Space Jam.
Stephen King name drops War of the Worlds--no huge surprise, it's another book about an alien invasion. But, I should just say that these aliens spread via a fungus that if ingested are what cause the parasites to form and be incubated. In War of the Worlds, HG Wells kind of has this foreshadowing about a 'red weed' that withers and dies, meant to be a hint that the martians eventually fall. (Actually, to be honest, it works so well that I always get a little confused when I read that part and think the martians have been killed already.) The fungus the aliens in Dreamcatcher spread is red--ohhhh! You see what Stephen King might have possibly done there?
Jonesy compares the alien controlling his body to what Gollum said of Bilbo--oh, forget it. This is worth a quote. "'...Reminding himself to be wary... because, as Gollum had said of Bilbo Baggins, it was tricksy, precious, aye, very tricksy" (382). Hahaha what. Talk about unexpected.
Because this book is set in the same fictional town as It, it would be a surprise if there are no references to It... Of course there are. Jonesy--the alien in Jonesy--goes to the standpipe in the hopes of releasing a parasite into the water, however, the book is set after the events in It--so the standpipe is destroyed. There is a memorial dedicated by the 'Losers' Club' in its place (they were the kids who eventually defeated It) and across it "PENNYWISE LIVES" (386) is spray-painted on it. Interesting, mostly because it implies at the end of It that even though It has been destroyed, It laid eggs shortly before its destruction, that the 'Losers' club' don't know about. (Fight to the death between Pennywise and the Ripley!?)
Oh, and while I'm thinking of it--remember the HP Lovecraft story, 'The Colour Out of Space'? Well, there was a well in the farm it was set on, and the area was to be opened for a reservoir. If that was done, the disease or whatever the alien matter was would be integrated into the water--it already was--and whomever drank it would be infected as well. Like if the parasite in this book.... Hey, it's not impossible. We know King is a huge Lovecraft fan...
Stephen King name drops another book of his, The Dead Zone. I don't remember much about it, other than that I didn't really understand it and that it appeared to be a post apocalyptic sort of deal.
One last note on the book itself--I have the hardcover version, and the author's photo looks suspiciously similar to the set from Creepshow. (The one involving the meteorite; see the HP Lovecraft post for more information regarding this.) In that story, the alien matter made a horrendous fungus grow over and eat away at everything, kind of like the Ripley. (The fungus didn't cause any alien impregnation, however.)
As for my feelings regarding the book: I really enjoyed this. It feels very different from a lot of his other books, less... less shaped, I guess, kind of like he just spit it out, but not in a bad way. Parts of it are confusing--like I said, I understand about 1/10th of why Duddits was so important, exactly and how he fit into it at the end especially--but Stephen King has his own logic that I've learned to just accept instead of try to figure it out rationally. It's better wrought than Pet Sematary, and I'm okay with the fact that I read this instead of that even though I was really in the mood to reread that*. But okay.
While we're talking about Stephen King books, apparently he's thinking of making a sequel to The Shining. That's pretty cool, I guess. And, let's see.... They might remake the Pet Sematary movie, and the It movie. Cool. And a movie adaptation of this book exists as well, though I've yet to see it.
MLA citation information: King, Stephen. Dreamcatcher. New York: Scribner, 2001. Print.
Answer to last post's cryptic song lyrics for Emma: Live to Tell the Tale by Passion Pit
This post's cryptic song lyrics for Emma: Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids... In fact, it's cold as hell
*The local library doesn't have much, but they do have quite a bountiful collection of Stephen King books--yup, just about everything but Pet Sematary. That's cool, I guess. So I took out A Man Without A Country instead and went back home to this.
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