Prometheus

I finally got around to seeing the acclaimed Alien prequel, Prometheus!  It's very interesting, and very good. There are incredible shots, some corny-but-hilarious jokes (featuring Stephen Stills, believe it or not), disgusting gross-ness, and even some real beauty.  So.  Prepare your chest, for here there be spoilers.

First of all, the year is something like 2094.  Humans have decided to track a star system and planet depicted in many ancient carvings and paintings.  The crew consists of 17 people, including a captain, a cold calculating bitch who acts as captain (great actress!  Apparently this actress is kind of typecast in this role, but she knows what she's doing), our two main-est characters, a robot, and a few other crew dudes.  One thing this film does have is a large cast--which keeps you from learning a lot about anybody.  Are they in on the plot?  Are they just random dudes?  Mostly.  This is also the first Alien movie where more than three people survive.  Two crew members die in the space-ruins, and three more die elsewhere (we may or may not get there), but there was no ship-wide blood bath, as one naturally would expect.
Just some notes on the characters--the main girl is named Elizabeth, and truth be told, she looks a little like Sarah Jane Smith.  Juuust mentioning that.
The robot, David is--well, he's jaw-droppingly gorgeous.  Which makes sense.  Robots are supposed to be the best kind of human.  Powerful, cool, maybe with guns coming out of their butts... Um.  Well, David is clearly an example of that.  He's perfect.  Hell, in the second scene you see him riding his bike in circles and casually tossing a basketball through a hoop and than catching it like it was no big thing (I wonder if he did that for real or if it was just CGI?)... I bring this up because in the other movies, the robots are very much every... everymen.  In the first one that was certainly no more than wanting Ash to be indiscreet so the audience is surprised when Sigourney knocks his head up--but yeah.  Ash is a dumpy robot.  The robot in the second one looks friendly, but certainly not a guy you'd expect to be a robot.  I don't really remember the third one, to be honest... But Winona Ryder... Well, no-one suspects that she's a robot, anyways, though she's less dumpy than previous robots in the series.  But she's nothing compared to David.
So!  Making the robots relatable?  More human?  There are still human/robot issues in the other movies (in the fourth one, set... Well, it's hard to know exactly without the aid of the movies themselves, but  I'd say that it's at least 600, 700 years after Prometheus.  (It's at least 400 years between the fourth Alien movie and the first, and possibly even the second.)  So that may have been the attempt, but it still failed.
As for the bitchy woman who acts as captain even though she clearly isn't--she's all steel--but if you look, she's human.  She's a tightly-wound bitch, but she goes to bed with the real captain--not that it ruffles her feathers at all.  But the example of humanity comes when the guy main character (who we learn nothing more about than the fact that he's dating the female main character and he's a scumbag to David) gets infected with... well, something they find in the alien ruins.  He entreats the woman to burn him alive with her flamethrower, and she does--and when it seems like she kills him, there's a split second where she kind of staggers back, and she has absolute horror on her face.
One thing that does throw me is that sometimes David refers to her by his name, and sometimes he calls her mom.  That didn't make sense to me.  Since she--well, was--heir to Weyland company, she'd be sister... Weyland himself refers to David as the "closest I'll ever have to a son".


Oooooof.  Sorry about that.  On to the plot!  So, they pick up, they find this planet.  One thing that impressed me is that even though the sets are obviously much more high-tech, they still looked like an Alien set--hell, for all I know, it's the same set updated--at least the dining area.  So how to explain why the Nostromo looked so low-tech in comparison, other than the fact that it was featured in the movie from the seventies?  Well, the Nostromo was just on a simple mining mission.  They didn't need anything fancy.
So, they touch down on this planet, and find strange structures--there are a few actually... But the structures are these big C-shapes with huge mounds in the middle.  Remember the spaceship that the crew of the Nostromo finds in the first movie?  Oh yeah, you better believe that it's buried underneath all of that.  They go in the ship, search around a little... (keep in mind, I'm condensing this a LOT.)
David accidentally sets off a strange holograph projector that shows giant creatures running into what appears to be a wall.  (They're very desperate--running from failures at the other ship sites?  Alien life?) David then opens it.

If you're not jumping out of your skin at this point, you didn't actually see the Alien movies--or you're very, very difficult to creep out.  What's even freakier is that the items in the chamber all appear to be organic, and are reacting to the light.  Murals on the ceiling change, those strange pods that are living stone start bleeding a thick, oily substance (which lands and eventually mutates little worms crawling unnoticed in the dirt below)... David shines his light on one and it starts developing four corners... It sort of reminds me of something, but what....
David takes a sample of what drips out unbeknownst to the scientists, who were busily collecting the head of one of the aliens that are believed to be humankind's forbears.  (Which is a hypothesis proved to be correct--the DNA sequences are almost 100% the same, but these humanoid aliens have a little bit more.)

So, the team leaves--I forgot to mention that they left so suddenly because a sandstorm/electrical storm/bad times were coming.  Two scientists were freaked out by the goings-on and had opted to leave beforehand, and became hopelessly lost within the tunnels, but the team that was in the chamber makes it out and back to the ship safely.  I should also mention that prior to discovering the chamber, the whole team was in a big room that was practically raining.  If you've seen your Alien movies, any place with enough hydration--especially if it's inside--will freak you out.  But no-one in this movie had Jonesy to warn them.  (Why do I know the name of the cat in the first Alien movie?)

So the team that's lost in the tunnels eventually stumble into the chambers, where the worms have mutated into three-foot-long and arm-thick udon noodles from hell.  One of them attacks one man, and his partner attempts to save him--but is sprayed with acid and the man's face melts.  The worm then forces its way down the man's throat, which is somehow more sexualized and horrifying than the face-hugger.  So the men die.

While this happens, David puts a single cell (look at his hand!  His fingerprint is the Weyland logo!) in a drink he makes for Elizabeth's boyfriend.  The man drinks it down, and later that night he and Elizabeth have sex.  The next day the man collapses, and the captain burns him alive.  But!  Around this time, David goes into the tunnels and discovers the alien's version of the human's resting chambers and unlocks another holographic security camera-like thing.  This scene in the movie is honestly beautiful.  I would see it in 3D just for this scene again--a gigantic map of the solar systems appears, and David holds earth--it's amazing.
And David reappears for Elizabeth, who had collapsed due to grief.  He checks her and discovers that she appears to be three months pregnant--impossible, because three months ago they were in biostasis--or, because the night prior was the first time they had ever had sex.  David attempts to put her into quarantine, but after she leaves she fights her way out, runs to a surgery machine, made only for men (we discover that the almost-dead Weyland is hiding on the ship)... Now!  This is where things get interesting!  If you'll notice, usually it's men who are impregnated with the alien babies.  At the very least, they are the first to be raped.
So, she is pregnant--but she programmes the machine and gives herself an abortion (she doesn't actually say "abortion", but it's god damn empowering).  That is goddamn amazing--as a twist on the usual and because she remains conscious the whole time.
The creature is squiggly white monster--showing that, like the Alien aliens, the black gunk will change whatever it is contact with differently depending on what it is.  (Giant sperm monsters are crazy.  Oh, and watch that one scene from Alien 3--the first one comes from a cow and is thus quadrupedal.  In a documentary I believe it was said that a greyhound in costume was used, or something like that.)

So David wakes up the alien that's left when they are in the chamber--it kills Weyland, and knocks David's head off (because it cannot tell the difference between him and a human--of course David survives).  The crew then escapes in desperation--David is stuck there, however.  This one humanoid alien, their forebear, plans to "take back" what he did for the humans--that is, something went wrong, and his next stop is earth, to destroy it.  This is where I nearly squealed, because his captain's seat folds itself open and a strange telescopic device comes down from the ceiling. (The picture below is from the first Alien, of course).  A lot of people are getting butthurt that it doesn't look exactly alike, but come on, they're pretty goddamn close.  Also, these events could have occurred many years apart--maybe there was one forebearer who was a little big.  Or maybe he was a little earlier or later in the evolutionary line.  Calm down.  And let's be fair, the original Space Jockey (yes, that really is what they called it) set was destroyed a few decades ago, so they didn't have the best source material.  (Originally it was outside of the studio after the first film's completion, but apparently several people destroyed it, thinking it was some Satanic symbol or something.)

So the bitch captain ejects despite the fact that the real captain can get them out of there.  (He actually says she can stay with him or go on the "lifeboat" and have two years of life--what the hell!)  She crashes, runs out--the spaceship of the alien is intercepted by the Prometheus ship, and begins rolling on its curve.  The bitch is crushed, and our Elizabeth just barely makes it out alive.  She stumbles to the lifeboat (a very, very nice escape pod).  The alien survived and follows her in--only to be attacked and killed by the sperm-squid monster, who has grown to gigantic proportions.  It face-rapes him and kills him.

So Elizabeth is left on the planet alone.  She decides to pilot, with David, the ship back to the alien's home planet--to see what made them, or why they changed their minds about earthlings.  There is a teaser end a la an end that comes after the credits, where an Alien-esque creature (fully grown) breaks from the man's flesh.  Now, Ridley Scott has said that he would do a sequel if given the chance, if the film did well or whatever.  But!  We can still speculate on how this gets to Alien. 




Does this work with AVP?  I really want it to.  I wouldn't be surprised if they brushed it aside, but AVP is what got me into the Alien movies, so I want it to badly.  If AVP will be an accepted part of the universe, we can say that the Predators picked Alien eggs up from somewhere else--since according to AVP  they were gathered so Predators could engage in a rite of passage, and the humans could be all amazed at their "gods".  No-one says where the eggs came from.  The movie is set in 2004, and also features Weyland--but it turns out that it is not the same Weyland.  It could be the son of that in AVP.
OH, and this all took place during the earliest realms of human civilization, the latest being from the Mayans (or something), so it was possible that the Predators still could have been intimately involved.  To mention the time just occurred to me, and I'll have to think more on that...

Alien evolution?  The Aliens change depending on who they're in.  The black gunk could have landed on something else to make it change.  It could have a basic outline for a creature which it recreates.  Clearly it affects different creatures in somewhat similar ways--the worm went down the dudes throat, the wiggly sperm beast layed eggs in the forbearer alien which clawed its way out of him later... And the aliens have a basic hive society, with a queen and whatnot.  So... bugs from hell+proper hosts... And somehow you get Aliens.  I'm thinking Namekians. (They have Alien hands!)

Why were they going to destroy Earth?  I'm going to say that this whole line of events took place, and the forbears realized they messed up bad.  Obviously one died in this turn of events, as we've seen on the Alien home planet.  We've seen in Prometheus that there was more than one ship per site (I'm curious about the other ship, but not overly so)--so someone could have left to send the distress schedule, or it was just this one guy and they had a transmission from him that ended with something bursting from his chest.  The forbears got scared that the same thing was happening on earth, and the few that were left decided that they had to end it.

Are there other forbears left?  Maybe.  It's possible.  They could have all died, or there are a few on the planet that are destitute, or they figured earth was gone... I'm figuring they're all dead for some reason.  I don't think the Alien home planet was their home planet, so it was a different disaster--or someone carried eggs back by accident!
(Also the Predators may have observed this disaster and that's how they learned about the Alien eggs?  Well, even if they were infected with the aliens, they are best suited to deal with them...)



Wow, I... I think that's it.  I think those are all of my theories.  If I... if I think of anything else I'll add it in the form of an "EDIT"...
(Also, this post was apparently so long it broke Blogger's spellchecker, so sorry about any gross errors.  I'll fix them if you point them out!)


EDIT: Aliens (second movie) was supposedly set in 2179.  Does this affect anything at all?  Maybe not, but it would be interesting to see how far the Prometheus series goes, if they ever occur over the same time period... They are only 100 years apart (a little less, actually).
As it turns out, what I forgot about when originally writing this is that Elizabeth is barren.  That was my bad.
AND, in the chamber where they find those strange containers--the room that looks exactly like the egg-filled chamber of the spaceship in the first Alien movie--the mural on the wall (one of them) looks like an Alien in a crucified-esque position.  Those are some scenes I'd like to get better looks at though, because even on the big screen with my glasses, it was hard for me to really tell what they were showing.
Okay, this is the last edit, maybe.  So.  Why did the worms that killed the geologist and that other dude not make little worm babies crawl out of their corpses?  Well, that squid monster was sperm.  Sperm gets people pregnant, that's the point of it.  Like I've mentioned, it's well-established that Aliens live in a hive community.  All it would take would be one drop on one queen space-bug--she would mutate, and the babies she lays during that time (because I don't think they have sex all that often--my understanding of bugs is that they are constantly just popping babies out--okay, so I only know that from Antz and Aliens) would presumably change with her, and those would get cooler and cooler, till another Alien queen was born and cemented this awesome yet horrifying change.

Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman

Sorry I've been gone!  I've been reading, I've just been lazy about writing things.  Anyways, from the title you'd be thinking that there's a lot of Neil Gaiman love going on in my life lately... Well, not really.  I thought this was going to be a full-blown sequel to American Gods (ugh, how embarrassing, but this makes me want to read it again...), so I was little disappointed.  There's a novella sequel to it, but reading a lot of Stephen King has spoiled me in the sense that I was expecting the novella to be about 150 pages longer...  (55 pages!?) I also... Well, Neil Gaiman's short stories aren't really my thing, or at least they don't appeal to me as much as his longer stuff.  The shorter stuff... A lot of the stories feel like they're lacking something, even when they are good.  So I admit that I skipped more than a few (also the poetry) and I peaced out halfway through some because I got bored.  (Sorry.) Oh, and I thought this was the collection of short stories with the original "Murder Mystery" story adaptation too, sooo...


The first story I did just plain skip--it was a Sherlock Holmes-style story, "A Study in Emerald"--a parody of "A Study in Scarlet".  I hate Sherlock Holmes.  I love the show, but the books are too dry for me, and in print, Sherlock always seems like an insufferable, arrogant jerk (Cumberbatch can get away with that because he's gorgeous and has a voice like Alan Rickman).  I tried to give it a go, but it got to the "Rache"--an exact scene lifted from the Holmes story--and I was done.

So!  The first thing I have anything to say about is "October in the Chair".  This story was dedicated to Ray Bradbury, who, as you probably know, just recently passed away.  Anyways, this story was written long before that, so... The basic premise is that all the months, personified (with pretty accurate characterizations, I think) meet once a month (I believe) and tell a tale.  You only see about two stories, which is what disappointed me about this one.  Maybe every month telling a story would be tedious, but... At least like... three?  Four?  One whole season or... Well, anyways, October tells us a story of a looked-over boy who runs away because he is sick of being ignored.  After much travelling, he makes friends with a ghost, and decides he'd rather stay with his ghost friend than be found.  So his ghost friend directs him to a house where "they" (different beings) live, who might enable him to stay... Implying that they'd kill him.  And it ends with him still outside and hearing a noise inside the house.  A good story... but it felt malnourished.  Probably my favourite in the book, though.  I wonder what Bradbury had to say about it?

The next story was "Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Secret House of the Night of Dread Desire"... I zoned out during this one.  What I did note, though, is that a young author who is frustrated by his inability to write what he wants well is visited by a talking raven.  This was written after Sandman--and although it's a connection to Poe too, one can't help but think of Matthew, Dream's feathered companion.

Another story, "Closing Time".  Again, it seemed interesting--a man tells a story of an event that happened when he was a boy, there's a bit of a mystery--he went to a strange playhouse, or hut, as I imagined it. Very, very condensed version is that he went with three older, boisterous boys, they come in, never come out, and he returns home.  Creepy on its own, good, but the framing device which returns at the end hurts it and just serves as a distracting factor.

The perfect story in this collection--and my actual favourite--is "Other People".  At first I didn't get the title, exactly, but I realized pretty quickly (though you won't really understand it till the end) that it was a play on that saying, you know, that "hell is other people".  It is so good that I have provided you with a link.  It takes about five minutes to read.  (I wonder what happens to the old demons after...?)

I swear I've read "The Facts in the Case of the Departure of Miss Finch".  I know I have--from the very start, I was sure I knew it.  I was less sure about the very end, but I was sure that I've seen it, or a very similar story, somewhere before... (Cirque du Freak?  Petshop of Horrors?) Anyways.  That was my statement, and this: "She curved like a Raymond Chandler smile" (Gaiman 143).  Could you tell that this story was written in 1998?  I was dying.

Oh OKAY.  The next story I have notes on is "The Problem of Susan".  Neil Gaiman said he wrote this because the treatment of Susan in the Narnia books always bothered him.  Understandable, but... Susan was a bitch.  Her and her nylons, and invitations... I mean, really! Anyway, the story goes on--some people aren't sure if the old professor is just some lady who knows fantasy lit, or the actual Susan.  I think it has to be Susan.  A young girl interviews her on "the problem of Susan" (why her siblings went to paradise while she alone remained on earth and didn't receive the touch of the divine paw, so to speak), and as the girl describes it, the old professor (who is the right age) describes the same situation from a personal view... She talks about identifying the bodies (Remember, the Pevensie children die in a train crash at the end of The Last Battle!)... She specifically says Ed!  Edmund, of course!  (Edmond?)  She even says that there's no way that a god who would punish a girl who "lik[es] nylons and parties" (Gaiman 187) would be an entirely kind fellow--"'enjoying himself a bit too much, isn't he?'" (Gaiman 187).  The people who read this and didn't realize that it was the Susan (married and divorced, husband died, etc--) weren't really paying attention at all.  Anyways--it gets awkward after that, and Susan politely dismisses the interviewing girl for good.
Later that night, both women dream: Susan of a Mary Poppins book that the author never wrote while living (Sandman again, Lucien's library!), and the young girl interviewing (Greta, and okay, in her mid-twenties) dreams too--and um, be warned.  It's gross, in a deeply disturbing way.  I have never felt nauseous from just reading something--this changed that.  Here:
"She is standing on the battlefield, holding her sister's hand... The witch looks at them all, then she turns to the lion, and says, coldly, 'I am satisfied with the terms of our agreement.  You take the girls: for myself, I shall have the boys.'  She understands what must have happened, and she runs, but the beast is upon her before she has covered a dozen paces.  The lion eats all of her except her head... She wishes that he had eaten her head, then she would not have had to look.  Dead eyelids cannot be closed, and she stares, unflinching... The great beast eats her little sister more slowly, and, it seems to her, with more relish and pleasure than it had eaten her, but then, her little sister had always been its favorite.  The witch removes her white robes, revealing a body no less white, with high, small breasts, and nipples so dark they are almost black.  The witch lies back in the grass, spreads her legs.  Beneath her body, the grass becomes frost.  'Now,' she says.  The lion licks her white cleft with its pink tongue, until she can take no more of it, and she pulls its huge mouth to hers, and wraps her icy legs into its golden fur... Being dead, the eyes in the head on the grass cannot look away.  Being dead, they miss nothing.  And when the two of them are done, sweaty and sticky and sated, only then does the lion amble over to the head on the grass and devour it in its huge mouth... The white witch rides naked on the lion's golden back.  Its muzzle is spotted with fresh, scarlet blood.  Then the vast pinkness of its tongue wipes around its face, and once more it is perfectly clean'" (Gaiman 189-190).
Yeah.  So.  I'm thinking the message is that no-one is just plain good and perfect, and no-one is just plain evil, and they get mingled in all sorts of ways.  But honestly, I don't want to think about this story too much.

"Fifteen Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot" was pretty intriguing too.  It was made up of several shorts wed together, and each short was enough so that it didn't need anything more.  I know that's weird, compared to what I've been complaining about, but it works... I mention it mostly because it hints at that popular notion that Jesus was a vampire--well, maybe popular isn't the right word, but it crops up from time to time, and more than you think.  (The idea comes from the "this is my blood, this is my body...", the fact that Jesus came back from the dead... One story I read implied that this is why Dracula--because Dracula was that vampire in question in the story--feared the cross, because his original death had taken place on it... Oh, and because of the eternal life promised--"[Christianity] was the only religion that delivered exactly what it promised: life eternal for its adherents" [Gaiman 211].)  Soooo yeah.

"In the End" was really cool, too.  It plays on the idea of entropy--at least I believe the concept is entropy, forgive me if it isn't, the last astronomy class I took was two years ago--but the idea that I'm thinking of is that, instead of the world ending just like that, the world reaches a certain point... and then things run backwards.  You live your life backwards.  Everything in the universe runs backwards, until the big bang, and then some people think it goes back, or it keeps on running backwards into nothingness like that.  Well, "In the End" plays on that with a religious twist.  You'll see what I mean when you read it.  (If you Google it, there's a free .mp3 of it online, but I don't really like it read...)

"How to Talk to Girls at Parties" is mentioned just because two teenaged boys go to the wrong party and I think one of them almost accidentally has sex with a space alien.  Or something?  My attention for this book in general was going at this point, but also they mention David Bowie twice in this story, and that's pretty cool.

And the novella that's a sequel to American Gods--I haven't a terrible amount to say about it.  I guess my feelings on this whole thing are mainly negative, and I feel bad about that because I really do like Neil Gaiman, but this collection just wasn't my thing.  Anyways, the only thing I have to mention about it is that it's set two years after the novel, and Shadow reflects on this, saying that he is 35 now.  Now, in the actual book, Shadow dies and comes back reminiscent of a Norse god--the god Odin, in fact.  He was hung on a tree and even stabbed in the side.  And then Odin comes back.  Early people hoping to make converts out of Norsemen connected him to Jesus as one way to make Christianity more appealing or more familiar.  So! If it was two years ago, Shadow was 33 then.  Jesus was supposedly 33 1/2 when he was crucified and subsequently resurrected.  So... So yeah!  Wooh, connections.
My other note is that it features a character named Mr Alice, who appears in one of the earlier stories of this collection...


So yeah... That's it.  This book wasn't for me, but maybe it'll be for you!  Good night!
MLA Citation Information: Gaiman, Neil.  Fragile Things.  William Morrow: United States of America, 2006.

Neil Gaiman's Sandman series

This is a pretend retrospective, mostly because I finished it a few weeks ago and didn't feel like taping it to the end of the Camus post.  This is going to be short.

First off, this is a good series.  The only thing I've ever read by Gaiman that I wasn't really in love with was Stardust, to be honest.  I've mentioned smidgens here and there about the other volumes, I think--well, the series wraps itself up perfectly.  And I mean, perfectly.  It's kind of like... Like a panel out of Watchmen.  The one I'm thinking of is in the sort-of epilogue, when the first Silk Spectre is making tea while The Outer Limits is just opening on the TV.  Her daughter and the second Night Owl come to the door with the hair dyed and such... And all the panels are synced to the opening of the TV show ("Do not attempt to adjust your TV set..." etc), the steam is acting with it, the actions and items in the background work with it--even Silk Spectre's struggle to recognize her daughter works with it.  It is so ridiculous how detailed and perfect it is--that's what the whole series is like.  You may not necessarily notice every perfect intersecting detail, but it's all there at the end.  That alone is a good reason to read it, I mean, really.
But it is good in its own right.  I mean... I don't know what to say other than what I have already.  If you like comic books and like Neil Gaiman, read it.  It will appeal to people who enjoy fantasy books, mythology books... Gaiman himself describes it as horror, and it is kind of dark, but... I don't know.  When I think horror I either think of something like the Alien movies, or something like a psychological horror, you know.  This did not strike me as being either of those, though there are some disturbing ideas presented here and there, I suppose...
Oh, and there's a companion to the series by Hy Bender that is mostly interviews with Gaiman, and that is amazing.  The first few chapters are rubbish--"Why read a comic book?"--in my personal opinion, if you're asking yourself that, then maybe you ought not be reading it at all, or even considering reading it.  ...Buuuut, once he starts talking about the issues themselves, and presenting the Gaiman interviews, it is very interesting.  Actually one of the coolest parts--other than overlooked details being pointed out, or realizing I was right about certain things, or Gaiman being Gaiman--is seeing how many characters were borrowed from long-forgotten DC comics.  Lucien, Dream's librarian, Cain and Abel, Eve, Prez, the guy who believes he is the new Sandman after Dream was trapped (first volume, I'm pretty sure)... They're all borrowed from mostly failed comic lines by DC in the seventies.  It's actually pretty crazy.  I'd love to find those old comics and read them too, to see how they matched up, you know?  (Especially Lucien's and Prez's.) Hm... I also wonder if Neil Gaiman intended his short story-turned-radio play-turned-comic book Murder Mysteries to sync in with this.  I'm pretty sure that was written even after Hy Bender's Companion book was, though, so he does not mention it.    (Murder Mysteries is about heaven--or the Silver City as it is known in Sandman--prior to Lucifer's fall, although Lucifer is not the main character.  However, he leaves after the main events take place, and you see his original departure from heaven, though the main character leaves before Lucifer begins his assault.)

Hmmm... I guess that's it.  Like I said, I don't have a lot to say--at least nothing particularly important... I'd urge you to read it, if again, you like fantasy, mythos, Neil Gaiman's other works... I highly doubt you'll be disappointed.  But if that is not your thing, don't bother.  I borrowed mine from the library out of convenience (and being flat broke), but actually, it's kind of funny... I just finished the series, and right after that Neil Gaiman announced on his Tumblr that a special edition box set of the series was being released for $125.  In an alternate universe where I am not a flat-broke college student, I have preordered it and await its arrival in excitement.
(And if you're broke, no worries!  This comic is popular and well-known enough for nearly any library to carry at least a few of its volumes!  My college library even has the first two... Actually, I think it's two and four, or something like that.  Well... You know what I mean.)

So yeah!  Go read the series, it's good.  Oh, and the spin-off comics aren't bad either, especially the ones by Jill Thompson--it's the spin-offs of the spin-offs you have to look out for (no thank you, Dead Boy Detectives!)  And sorry that this wasn't more detailed.  I don't have any volumes on me, and I read the whole series in a rather stilted fashion.  So... Sorry.... (But this should only give you more incentive...)

The Stranger by Albert Camus

Today I woke up and thought, what would up my hipster street cred?  Reading The Stranger by Albert Camus, which is surprisingly a very short book.  This edition is about 119 pages, and the font is fairly large and widely-spaced.  So it's an extremely quick read.

The book is also very simple in terms of how it is written.  This could be due to the fact that it was translated from French, but also because according to the introductory notes, Camus was trying to imitate an "American" style: short sentences in the form of statements, thus making the story faster-paced, etc...
Anyways, it's so simple it feels natural--not in a directly-in-the-head Ulysses type deal, but in a "Oh, I can relate to this thought, or his overall detachedness, or this or that", without really trying.  I know I've praised authors on this before, but this time by the end I got a little bored with it... Maybe because the main character lacked real emotion and empathy?  I mean, he is the titular stranger.  He's a stranger to the people around him, including family and his lover, as well as the whole human structure of government, society, and so on.  But it hurts his appeal, although his numbed "surprise" at things is something I can relate to and probably most everyone can for certain situations.  This lack of emotion also prevents certain catharsis from occurring.  For example, the book starts when Meursalt learns of his mother's death.  He goes to her rest home, stays at the vigil, goes to the funeral, and goes home--because you've just met him, you think he's in shock.  But he's like that the whole time.  He never really gets upset about his mom's death--I think that might be what bothers me the most. And that's one of his grievances, he gets pissed that people would be so upset over her death and cry over it because she lived happily.  Which I can see--but it also feels fake and almost like a justification for him not feeling anything over his mother's death.  I'm biased because I'm very close to my mother, but he just... to be so blase about it... It just agitates me.
...And I wouldn't ride on him putting his mother in a home or anything, and I think during the trial (I'll get to it later) it was messed up that everyone kept on focusing on that instead of what he was being tried for, but I mean... I mean... That's your mother.  Okay, don't cry for her life, but I think he was looking at it through a narrow lens (see above).  Cry for the fact that she is your mother and now she is gone and she should have meant something to you.  I mean--is what I'm saying making sense, or...?  Well, let's get on with it.  Sorry about that big monster paragraph.

No... Just kidding.  One more problem with the style.  Because it's so--um--easy, for lack of a better word, it was hard for me to stay invested.  By the end my eyes were just sliding over whole paragraphs.  When the chaplain/priest/whatever the proper title for him would be showed up, I was just cruising because I knew that's when some huge revelation or something was going to come through, and I didn't like the main character enough or think he was a good enough character to find what he was saying worth my time.  I mean, I could empathize with him sometimes, just kind of muddling through life, being surprised in a numb way at new situations and the passage of time, but... He just... I don't know, he didn't seem like a character who would have a lot of feelings or opinions on anything (other than the clear lust he feels for his girlfriend, you never get anything from him, really), so it was almost like he didn't deserve that emotional explosion at the end.  And I've tried subsequently to go back and read it, but I can't focus well on it... Anyways, he still is kind of an asshole.  There, I said it.  Yeah, being a human isn't great, but that's no reason to turn into an insufferable jerk.  His last paragraph of speech where he's yelling at the Chaplain (that actually spans a few pages) is just like some "mad at dad" middle schooler/early teenager.  Oh you're so tough.  Go buy a Nightmare Before Christmas t-shirt and read a... Well, read an Albert Camus book.

Oh man.  Sorry for the rants.  I didn't even hate the main character until I started writing this.  But he is such a... Ugh, he makes me so mad, taking it all in in retrospect.  So!  Um--How did the main character end up in this situation with a chaplain?  Well, I've already said that the book starts with his mother's death.  The book starts out with him going to her funereal, and then coming back to work.  Actually, he obsesses about having to ask his boss for days off and focuses on that more--just that weird obsession alone reminded me of Gregor Samsa, from Kafka's The Metamorphosis, but that connection goes away.
Anyways, like I said, he never mourns, but makes detached observations of life around him, mostly.  For example: his two neighbours, one he probably genuinely cares about (probably, because it's damn hard to tell with him), and one who has a gross mange-y dog.  The guy beats his dog all the time because it walks too fast or too slow for him, but he has real affection for the dog deep in his heart, and when it goes missing you see that.  (Not saying you should beat your dog, though!)  He also meets with a women who used to work with him that he was attracted to.  They start having a mostly sexual relationship, which I think is a point brought up in court, or somebody freaks out about around then--that Meursalt would enter a sexual relationship (or a romantic one) so close to his mother's death.  That's one thing I can defend him on, however: maybe, following his mother's death, he wanted to feel alive, needed in some way, wanted to revel in the life still around him... But in retrospect, it seems more like he was just kind of horny.  Oops.
His neighbour that he cares about, Raymond, has a girlfriend who steps out on him, so he beats the tar out of her.  He is not taken into custody because it is the 1940's, but over the next few days he notices that the girl's brother and several of his "Arab" friends start tailing him.  When Raymond and Meursalt are together at a friend's beach house, they accidentally come across this group--they attack Raymond with knives and fists and he is injured.  Meursalt, later, goes back to the same place where they found the group and sees just the brother alone.  He took Raymond's gun so Raymond would not do anything irrational following his assault--and ironically fires five shots into the brother, killing him, with no explanation, on a complete spur of the moment.  You can pretend that he was doing it as payback for assaulting Raymond, or as a warning, but he claims the overwhelming heat made him do it, so...
So he is caught for his murder, found guilty and put into jail.  He has an appeal waiting, but it's pretty much known that it won't go through and he will be executed anyways.  Get this, by guillotine!  Apparently guillotines were used for death sentences in France until 1981.  Damn, France.

So yeah.  There's a pretend ambiguous ending, but the ending is pretty much sorted out.  I know Blogger doesn't give the reader any concept of how posts are being written, or the time frame in which they are written, but I took a day's break between writing the above and what I'm writing now.  I think my main problem with the theory that makes Meursalt (that life is just a random mixing of sensory feelings and emotions and such) is that that's not how people are.  I mean you only have to be alive to know that that's not true, that people aren't like that (except, perhaps, if you have some sort of mental disability, but we are never given any hints that Meursalt should be seen in that way, even if he is the titular stranger and is seen by even himself as different from everyone else... I think to say something like that would be putting words in Camus's mouth).

So onto things I've noted from the book that I haven't mentioned already in my numerous angry rants!
First of all, the book starts off with a quote from the Medieval play Everyman, which I thought was a curious choice, mostly because it has been, for the most part, forgotten... (It's a passion play, or some other type whose popularity pretty much died once people realized they should bathe in their own waste, so it's not really common for a group to put this one on today...) But after reading I realized that the people who printed the edition of Camus's book are of Everyman's Library.  Oooops.  (If you're curious, the quote is "Everyman, I will go with thee, and be thy guide, in thy most need to go by thy side".  Although I remember the general idea of the play, I don't remember who says this, and I don't want to go looking for the book that it is in at this very moment... I think it might be Everyman's Soul, or Knowledge or Wisdom or some other positive personification...)

I honestly don't have anything till Meursalt shoots the Arab halfway through the book (the book is divided as his life is: before and after the murder).  Really, I talked about a lot of what I thought might be interesting to mention already... Anyways, here's the quote: "My whole being tensed and I squeezed my hand around the revolver.  The trigger gave; I felt the smooth underside of the butt; and there, in that noise, sharp and deafening at the same time, is where it all started.  I shook off the sweat and the sun.  I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day, the exceptional silence of a beach where I'd been happy.  Then I fired four more shots at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without a trace.  And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness" (Camus 57). This is the part of the book that's the most skillfully written, in my opinion.  Although looking at it again, the bullets lodging without a trace bothers me... Of course there were wounds left behind, unless the guy is made out of Jell-o...

The next part of the book comes right after this.  Now, I borrowed this book from the library, and someone left behind a Post-it on the page for part two that says "Question everything that you believe to be true..." (Actually, this would make a great hipster photo...) When I just kind of flipped through the book prior to reading it I cam upon this page and was very intrigued, as I'd imagine anyone would be.  Unfortunately... The book is kind of disappointing... And I would not connect it with the Post-it note's statement, either.  Maybe that was the point of the book and I missed it, but it seems as though there are better books to put such a note in... That said, I will not be taking the note out.

In the courtroom Meursalt first refers to himself as a stranger or an outsider-looking-in (though, again, it is obvious he has really felt that way or was that to begin with), when he sees all the usual journalists and bailiffs and policemen greeting each other warmly... And then the jury and people observing are talking too... "...He gave the policeman a warm handshake.  I noticed then that everyone was waving and exchanging greetings and talking, as if they were in a club where people are glad to find themselves among others from the same world.  That is how I explained to myself the strange impression I had of being the odd man out, a kind of intruder" (Camus 81).  I think this is the first time that he is consciously aware of that feeling which has existed even in his narrative--the feeling made apparent to him because of, or cemented by, the fact that he is actually detained from these people physically and because of his gained status as a criminal (a murderer, no less!).

Um... Let's see... My next note was in his sentence... "...The presiding judge told me in bizarre language that I was to have my head cut off in a public square in the name of the French people" (Camus 102).  Note that it's "bizarre language" and not "a bizarre language".  I missed that the first time and was very confused.  (He probably meant "legalese", as it were...) But yeah.  Guillotines!  Like I said, used in France until 1981!  Damn, France.  Daaamn.

Um... Yeah.  I already complained about the end, and the ideas behind it.  My last thing to say regarding this  was that it occurred to me to look up Meursalt's name in French.  Meur means murderous, meurs means die, and salt is just salt (all according to Google translate.  We have a French/English dictionary in the attic but... Yeah, that's not happening).  So, did Camus put meaning behind his name on purpose?  Maybe.  Maybe it's just a common French name (or was in the early twentieth century).  So that's it for me on Albert Camus's The Stranger!



MLA Citation information: Camus, Albert.  The Stranger.  Trans. Matthew Ward.  Everyman's Library: United States, 1993.  

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

Ah--the sequel to The Hunger Games.  I didn't like this one as much, but it's not a bad book.  It just didn't strike me in quite the same way (though it did have me flipping through the later pages and reading random sentences... Not sure what to make of my reaction?  Well, it meets Stephanie Meyer's "high expectations".  Oh yeah--on the back of the book there is a quote of praise from Stephanie Meyer: "It not only lived up to my high expectations, it surpassed them.  Stunning".  You know who has no right to have high expectations or any expectations of anything at all?  The author (authoress?) of the Twilight saga.

Anyways.  This is set following the original games--Katniss and Peeta's actions have sparked many rebellions--for example, the third district is completely out of commission, the eighth district had be controlled... and the Capitol is keeping an eye on them.  Collins does a very good job of illustrating the tension between Katniss and the Capitol--instead of just describing the idea of Big Brother, she makes the reader feel like they're the ones being scrutinized.  Of course, it helps that the book is from Katniss's point of view... But still.  It's very eerie.
Now, the Capitol wants to get back at Katniss specifically for essentially making them look like fools.  This upcoming year is also the seventy-fifth year of the games.  Every twenty-five years the games are "special" versions, known as Quarter Quells--in these there are one or more major twists on the game that year--for the seventy-fifth, those chosen for the games are chosen from each district's pool of winners.  Katniss, of course, is the only female winner from her district.  More twists are the incredible difficult and twisted challenges of the arena--it's set up like a clock, and... I didn't quite get how this worked, exactly, but if you were in the four o'clock area at that time, you would have to deal with whatever danger would be released.  For example, one area spits out acid rain at its time, one starts a huge lightning storm... The worse locks you into its sliver for the whole hour where muttation birds (that's what they call it; I know, it drives you nuts, doesn't it?) scream in the voices of people you care for--one sounds like Katniss's sister, a winner from one of the other games named Finnick hears the girl he loves.... And so on.
Oh, and there are still issues about everyone thinking Peeta and Katniss are still madly in love.  They would have given Katniss some slack had she done a convincing job of this, but according to the head of the Capitol, she did not.... So... Um... Yeah, let's go!

Oh, okay.  My first note is 78 pages in--every half year between games, the survivors of previous games meet at the Capitol, celebrate, hang out, are doted upon by the Capitol, whatever.  These parties have huge dinner setups.  Katniss is so excited about all the food that she is determined to try as much as possible--one bite from every dish (she gives the rest to Peeta).  She is asked why she has stopped eating, she explains that she is full, and the person who asked laughs and shows her a vial of liquid.  You take a sip in the bathroom and bam!  You vomit up your meal and are free to continue eating.  Now, I made connections to Ancient Rome pretty clear in my last post, but I get excited about that sort of thing, so sorry if this is tiresome.  (You don't have to read this, you know.)  In ancient Rome, there were these things called vomitoriums.  Well--depending on your source, that wasn't their real name, but the point is, you would stuff yourself at an elaborate upper-class Roman feast.  Granted, no Roman feast could compare to the elaborate dishes at the Capitol, but we're still talking about things like flamingos stuffed with sparrows, roasted songbird tongues, dishes involving dormice... A lot of things getting stuffed into other things.  You got full but you didn't want to miss out on the rabbit fetus?  Well, fortunately for you your host was kind enough to provide (or you owned yourself, which if you were upper class wasn't so unusual) an ostrich feather long enough for you to tickle the back of your throat.  You went into the vomitorium--or whatever the proper name was--tickled your throat, vomited, came back, and went on with your meal of strange things that most people would be horrified to eat.  (Incidentally, could my willingness and drive to try unusual foods be related to the fact that I'm Italian and almost certainly have Roman roots?  I'd try most of things that a Roman nobleman would have eaten... Except for maybe the tongues.  Maybe.  I'd love to try the fish sauce, though!)  Anyways... Katniss is just as horrified and disgusted as you probably are right now, and goes back to her room.

Oh okay, and her other friend, Gale, wants to run away (back at home).  She agrees to, and tries to start planning in her head how she could do so while taking her and Gale's family with her and Gale.  Gale abruptly informs her that he loves her--she's so shocked she can't think straight and responds with--wait for it--"'I know'" (Collins 97).  If you're not laughing, you've never seen a Star Wars movie.  Sorry.

Aaaand... Wow, there's been about a month break between what's up here and what you're reading this very second, so sorry if I'm a little foggy.  Finals and all of that, and general laziness... Anyways, I guess I described the hunger game arena this year in basic detail... They start out on platforms in the middle of the ocean and they have to swim to that island with all the traps on it... So if you can't swim (which is a possibility, depending on your district), you're pretty much done from the start, there.  I don't remember if anyone specifically gets screwed by that factor (the belts on the tributes' uniforms are flotation devices when used properly, or something like that), but that would be interesting if they were... Again, a little foggy on the details...

Ah, yes!  Me being me, I've marked one of the most heartbreaking moments in the book.  Katniss and Peeta befriend two people from whichever district was in charge of fishing (oops).  One is a young, popular man who won a few years before Peeta and Katniss, and the female tribute is an elderly woman whose shining day came many, many decades before.  Anyways, they all get stuck in the part of the island with the gas that affects your nervous system--it doesn't kill you right away, but it sets you up for a pretty excruciating death if you don't find shelter.  Peeta needs to be carried.  It hits Katniss, and she starts having trouble controlling her body--Mags, the old lady, can't move fast enough to escape it, but the other guy--Finnick--can't carry Peeta and Mags.  So, Mags: "Mags hauls herself up, plants a kiss on Finnick's lips, and then hobbles straight into the fog.  Immediately, her body is seized by wild contortions and she falls to the ground in a horrible dance.  I want to scream, but my throat is on fire" (Collins 301).

My next note is... Ugh, it's so stupid, but the Beavis and/or Butthead in me thinks that it is hilarious.  People commonly describes the noise clocks make on the hour or half hour or whatever as chimes or bongs.  This book is no different.  "Twelve bongs last night" (Collins 325).  Daaaaaaaaaayum, Katniss.

 Oh man, and my last note is on another thing I thought was hilarious but will probably make everyone else in the world facepalm.  I mentioned how Gale kissed Katniss earlier in the is post, right?  (Not going back to check.  Deal with it.) Well, he does, in the privacy of Katniss's own home, but somehow the president knows anyways.  But after Katniss kisses Peeta towards the end of this book, she thinks: "I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after.  But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside.  Only one that made me want more.  But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down" (Collins 352).  I don't know why I found that so hilarious but I do.


Anywayyys... Like I said, I'm kind of fuzzy on the end, which is probably better for you, because I can't inadvertently (or advertently?) spoil the end.  All I remember is that the members of Katniss's Hunger Games "team" had planned a rebellion in their game, and Katniss's obliviousness prevents her from understanding it (again, I can't blame her at all, because I'd be the same way).  Buttt it also means major consequences for the districts that the members of those rebellions hail from... Well, I'm sure there will be a recap in Mockingjay!  I'll keep you guys updated, because God knows if your libraries are anything like my local libraries, you won't be able to even get your hands on a free copy till next January (31 holds on it at Wallingford!  31 holds!!).  Wheeeeee.


MLA Citation Information: Collins, Suzanne.  Catching Fire.  Scholastic Press: United States of America, 2009.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I know I'm a little late on this trend, but a copy of The Hunger Games was literally put into my hands, so it was hard to put off reading the series any longer.  I wish I hadn't put it off so long.  It's really, really good, and very haunting.
Quick list of favourite things in this book:

• All of Katniss's stylists have the names of either Roman emperors or well-known senate members.  (Also, the interviewer dude is Caesar, and I pictured him as Hamilton-ish [from Harvest Moon: Tree of Tranquility].)
• Katniss does not care about romance at all.  It's not even on her radar.  On one hand, her obliviousness about the fact that Peeta is really in love with her can be a little annoying, but on the other, she's not giving though to it because survival is most important.  I am totally behind that.  I feel bad for Peeta a little, but at the same time, I love Katniss for being--well, not so girly.  In other news, those of you wearing "Team Peeta" and "Team Gale" shirts are probably idiots.  It's pretty clear even from just this that romance isn't going to be a priority, thank goodness.  
• The Foxfaced girl.  There's something about her.  I want to know more about her, even though she's dead and only shows up like twice.

Runner-ups:

• The fact that Peeta is a bread baker... Like pita bread.  Hehe.
• The fact that even the characters in the book seem to be aware of what a stupid name Katniss is.  (Gale calling her "catnip" as her nickname.  That has to be Suzanne Collins mocking herself.)

So--onto the rest.  If you don't know what this is at all, you've been living under a rock for the past two weeks/probably don't have a Tumblr, and if that's true... How are you reading this?  But here's a basic summary: on the remains of the US, a new land has arisen, split into thirteen districts and the Capitol.  Each district is based off of something--Katniss's is the coal district, there's an agricultural district, fishing district, and so on.  Many years ago, the districts tried to rebel against the posh Capitol, and in the end, the thirteenth district was destroyed.  To punish the other districts and remind them of their pattern, every year the Capitol holds the hunger games.
A hunger game is set in a predetermined area, different every year.  Two teenagers from each district (except thirteen, obviously) is chosen to fight while surviving in this area.  They must forage for themselves, though sometimes their sponsors send food and medicine, and they do have a pick for weapons--though they must fight the other kids to have a pick at the weapons left in the beginning of the game.  Last man standing wins (though in this hunger game the rules are changed, since prior to the games Katniss and Peeta play up the idea that they are in love, Peeta of course being serious, and Katniss being like, whatever), so it's essentially a big old gladiator battle.  (And why it makes sense that all these Capitol folk have Roman names...)
So.  As you may have gathered, Katniss was drawn for the games (technically her younger sister was, but Katniss volunteered in Prim's place), as was Peeta.  Let's go:

Oh, yeah.  Gale is a friend of Katniss's.  In the beginning of the book they have snuck outside of the fence that contains their district and are hunting illegally.  This is how they feed themselves and their family, because District 12 is really, really poor, especially their families.  On the morning before "the reaping" (when they choose the candidates for the games) Gale suggests that they run away to live in the woods.  It doesn't appear to be romantically charged, at least as not as much as it may sound, but it could be.  There's not a lot of Gale in this volume.  Anyways, the point is, he doesn't exist as simply a romance object (and now you understand the "Team Gale" thing I said earlier).
I also love how down-to-earth Katniss is--Katniss goes a little to the extreme, and it could prove dangerous for her later, but still: "As I walk, I glance over at Gale's face, still smoldering underneath his stony expression.  His rages seem pointless to me, although I never say so.  It's not that I don't agree with him.  I do.  But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods?  It doesn't change anything.  It doesn't make things fair.  It doesn't fill our stomachs.  In fact, it scares off the nearby game.  I let him yell though.  Better he does it in the woods than in the district" (Collins 14).  I completely respect the attitude that she has.

Oh yeah, the stylists... Well, the competitors have to be spruced up.  Katniss is cleaned, shaved for the first time in her life, scars are fixed, etc.  And they are presented to an audience (it's basically a reality TV show) before the games in interviews and so on.  They are given fancy clothes and an "edge"--sexy, mysterious, tough, et cetera.  So.  The stylists' names: Venia, Octavia, Cinna and Flavius (at least the ones on the page I marked).  Octavia=Octavius=Augustus Caesar, Flavius is a lesser-known emperor, Cinna was on the consul, and although there are multiple Cinnas (obviously), the one I'm most familiar with is the poet that was murdered in a riot for having the same name as the consul member.  And... okay, fine.  I don't know of any famous Roman named Venia, but it is Latin.  Apparently people have been complaining about Lenny Kravitz being cast as one of the stylists (Cinna, I think), but as long as he's done a good job, what does it really matter?  Sorry that he's black...?
Oh, speaking of the stylists, one of the things I'm really excited to see in the film is the outfits.  Suzanne Collins is incredibly talented in writing descriptions (especially that of food!), and of the dresses Katniss wears during interviews and so on.  "...My dress, oh, my dress is entirely covered in reflective precious gems, red and yellow and white with bits of blue that accent the tips of the flame design.  The slightest movement gives the impression I am engulfed in tongue of fire.  I am not pretty.  I am not beautiful.  I am as radiant as the sun" (Collins 121).

Oh--and going along with the Stylist's names, there's Caesar, the interviewer.  I hope I don't need to explain the Roman importance of his name.  

One thing people have been up in arms about is the fact that Rue was black in the movie.  Well, duh.  She's described as being black.  Not only that, she's from the agricultural district--she picks from morning till night, if she stops she gets whipped, if she steals she gets whipped.  You'd have to be an idiot not to draw the obvious connection between that and a plantation.  Even if Collins hadn't described her as having dark skin, it very nearly would be an automatic to have her be black in the movie because there's no way you can't make that connection.  So... So yeah, calm down world.
And--Rue--well, here come the spoilers.  Her death was heartbreaking and beautiful.  And in a way, I'm glad it happened.  As they got closer and friendlier, I started getting scared--because at that point, the rules hadn't changed.  Only one person could win.  One of them would have to kill the other.  So once the fact was over... Well... In a sick way, I was a little relieved.  Because Katniss would have to kill Rue, and that just wouldn't be possible.  Katniss kills Rue's killer, however, covers Rue in flowers, and sings a lullaby to her to ease her into her death.  It's a beautiful scene.

Later, Katniss makes it back to Peeta, and they care for each other.  (Mostly Katniss caring for Peeta.)  This when they play up the fake relationship the most--Peeta kissing her for real, Katniss focusing on what was truly important--survival.  At one point Peeta asks Katniss to tell her a story, so she tells him about when she got her sister's goat--I only mention it because Collins has these clever ways of wording sentences every so often that I really enjoy... "It was an excellent deal if the goat lived; I'd been robbed if she died.  People took sides in the argument, but I took the goat" (Collins 272).

Also, fans of Skyward Sword: there are birds named grooslings.  I can't take any part of the book that mentions them seriously.

I really don't have much to say until the book's end.  I mean, Katniss lives--obviously--and I think I've already mentioned that Peeta does as well.  The rules changed, like I said--when it's just them left there's an announcement that the rules never really changed, so they decide to kill themselves with poisonous berries at the same time, but right before they can swallow they are stopped, it announces that they both win, and although all the people are happy, the Capitol higher-ups are pissed, because that along with what Katniss did for Rue are considered high acts of rebellion.  Certainly this is what sets the stage for the rebellious acts that begin to run rampant in the next two books--and the book ends with Katniss on the train back home realizing she's in potentially more danger than she ever was in the games now because she has made the Capitol mad.
She also considers Peeta's relationship with her and Gale's--who does she care for and whatnot.  She says she misses him already, she feels bad for offending him... But I don't believe this is grounds for saying she loves him as lover or cares for him more than anything else or anything like that.  She cares for him because they shared that danger, and they were the only ones that did--in a time of trauma, they came together. but it doesn't necessarily mean in a romantic way.  Well, I guess I'll have to see how this all pans out...

All in all, this is a really good book.  Yeah, for the age group, and even an adult could read it.  It's not "dumbed down" in its writing or content--how much the book affects you is more according to your own age rather than the book's level of writing.  (For example, a kid may not think twice about the "mutts", but that and its implications disturbed me.)  It's a neat action story, with more to it than being just that.  It's almost--it's almost like a younger adults version of the Uglies series by Scott Westerfield (minus the fourth book in that series!  Ugh).  Or at least that's what it reminds me of, though to be fair I haven't read that series in four or five years, and maybe I'm just associating them because that was the last new series I read and enjoyed and because both were recommended to me (and lent to me) by the same person.  Well, whatever.  This is a good dystopian future series, and so is Westerfield's series.  Read them both, then let me know whether my connection between the two of them is unfounded or not.  Please.
Anyways, read the book, you'll be glad you did--it's worth the hype.  Collins is talented.  The books are well-written.  The ideas are intriguing.  The main character isn't a wet rag.  You'll read it in about two days.  Gooo doooo itttt.


MLA Citation Information: Collins, Suzanne.  The Hunger Games.  Scholastic Press: New York, 2008.

The Time Machine by HG Wells

I was gripped with a sudden urge, while wandering drunkenly through the library (truth?), to reread HG Well's awesome book--it's a little less awesome now than it was four or five years ago (what, is that even real), but it's still good.  Better than the Autocracy of Mr Parham.  Always better than that.  Anything would be better than that.

Anyways, this is the first time machine story ever written.  (Well, the first well-known one in any case.  Shush.)  That has never hit me before reading it this one time--I was reading the section where the Victorian men were trying to puzzle out how the time machine could move back in time if they had never seen it in their friend's room before.  Finally it occurs to one of them that it moves at super speed or whatever as it goes back, and whatever else.  It has never occurred to me before that someone could take the idea of time travel for granted, but I clearly had.  All the late Victorian and turn-of-the-century people probably basically peed themselves when they read this.  Also, I think that it's hilarious that the psychologist is the one who eventually figures out the super speed thing.

Oh, but the story itself--the pioneering scientist travels into the feature which has resulted from people attaining utopia, and then devolving in light of the easy life.  The working class went underground and became gross ape-like monsters who feed on the upper class people, who have devolved into child-like creatures that aren't very bright.  My next note has to do with this--you see, I've read a lot of studies that accredit human brain development to the fact that we started eating more and more meat because we figured out how to cook it and not die.  All of these people ate fruit exclusively.  Maybe HG Wells didn't do this intentionally, or did this just to contrast their purity with the Morlocks' cannibalistic evils, but still, that would definitely have an affect on their brain power and bodies.  So... so yeah.  It's also a bad idea to raise a kid (until age five or six, but even then it's questionable) on a strictly vegetarian diet because of the damage that can do.  (HG Wells also mentions that they're all incredibly weak and light, so that's probably a super protein deficiency.)
Also, when he explains their diet he talks about how all cows and sheep and everything seemed to go extinct. Okay, HG Wells.  Sure.  That makes oodles of sense.  Why bring it up other than to complain?  Well, what he actually says is is that they "followed the Icthyosaurus into extinction" (Wells 32).  Hehe.  Awesome.

Eventually the time travelling narrator befriends one of the future non-Morlock humanoids.  He saves her from drowning--while swimming or playing in a stream she gets a cramp and the moderate current picks her up and takes her away.  Her fellows basically ignore her and leave her for dead, so the narrator dives in after her and rescues her.  She falls in love with him immediately (which, of course, he doesn't understand--he believes for almost the entirety of their friendship that it was just a childish affection) and follows him everywhere.  At first she annoys him, because "'I had not, I told myself, come into the future to carry on a miniature flirtation'" (Wells 54).  It's funny because flirtations are considered minor or miniature (as compared to, say, romance or dating or getting married, because it was the Victorian era and getting married was your only option then), and because Weena (the girl) is no more than four feet fall... Ahhh, oh you, HG Wells!
Oh yeah, I always forget that the non-Morlocks are the Eloi, probably because HG Wells only mentions it once.  It means "chosen" in Latin (although one of the baby naming sites it was one says it has Latin and French origins which doesn't really make sense since they developed at different speeds and times...?), which would make sense if these people were supposed to be the privileged upper class.  The French saint of metalworking (no lie) is Saint Eloi.  There doesn't seem to be a clear meaning behind the name Morlock, but apparently HG Wells wrote a quasi-prequel to this book (by quasi-prequel I mean one of his books is set a few centuries into the future and makes intimations that certain groups will develop into the Morlocks eventually.  I wonder if HG Wells really believed that the way HP Lovecraft believed Asian people really would take over the world), which might have some clues in it...?
HG Wells also eventually figures out the true nature and relationship of the Eloi and Morlocks.  He realizes that the Eloi are the main food source of the Morlocks and that explains all of their weird nighttime behaviour. I think he gives the Morlocks too much credit, though.  He says the Eloi are akin to fatted cattle, which the Morlocks "'preserved and preyed upon--probably saw to the breeding of''" (Wells 80).  The Morlocks are clearly more advanced physically than the Eloi, and more advanced mentally because being a predator obviously requires a more complex system of thought, but I don't think they're smart enough to control breeding and preservation and all of that.  I think they're very much like cavemen--knowing where the prey is, and how much there ought to be, but beyond that, not really having a good idea of what's going on.  (But just wait until Equality discovers electricity!)  Though saying the Eloi are akin to fatted cattle is appropriate in what a fatted cattle is, that also automatically brings up the image of farming, which is definitely inappropriate for this situation.

...Also, now that I think of it, what happened to all the people every part of the world that's not London?

My next bit comes when... when that guy who I almost called the Doctor but most definitely is NOT the Doctor realizes he can scare the Morlocks with fire--he gets so excited he tells Weena (the Eloi female) to dance and he dances with her: "'It part it was a modest can-can, in part a step dance, in part a skirt dance (so far as my tail-coat permitted), and in part original.  For I am naturally inventive, as you know'" (Wells 87).  At first I was like woaaah, ego!  But then I remembered that he made a whole damn time machine, so maybe he should be allowed to brag a bit.

Anyways.  He finds his time machine again, and Weena is killed due to his foolishness with the Morlocks--something I apparently misunderstood when I read it all 5,000 times in middle school.  You see, I always thought she was simply stolen away, and that's why the time traveler goes back--to try and save her.  The book ends--well, this edition has an epilogue, which for whatever reason my edition was bereft of--with the time traveler becoming determined to prove that the traveling occurred to our narrator who parrots back everything the traveler said in verbatim.  The time traveler goes back in time, and the narrator tells us that he vanished three years ago and never returned.  I kind of like it better when he's going back to save Weena and gets killed instead, instead of just trying to prove himself, but whatever.  I'm not the one writing classic sci-fi novels at the turn of the century... Yet.
The epilogue is also a little too optimistic--basically the narrator is saying that the traveler could still be alive wandering the future or past, and that the future saw can be changed, and at least love and tenderness still lived on in the Eloi.  It was probably to calm down all the Victorian people, who were probably smoking their smelling salts at that point in an effort to not vomit on everything, but... But ugh!  It's so lame!  It ruins the creepy implications of it!  Stupid Victorians and their fear of absolutely everything.  Anyways.  Other than the lame-butt epilogue, this is Twilight Zone-worthy.  No, I don't care that it predates the Twilight Zone by like seventy (woah, really!??) years.


MLA Citation information: Wells, HG.  The Time Machine.  Robert Bentley, Inc: United States of America, 1895.  (Sorry, this one of those books that are definitely from the mid forties to mid fifties that don't feel like putting legitimate information in their books, which I guess doesn't really matter since this is all public domain and everything.)


I also started reading the Sandman comics by Neil Gaiman.  I read a spin-off series (Death: At Death's Door by Jill somebody, which I'm thinking is her specific take on all the events that occurred during the Sandman comics--though I'm not sure because it's only one volume... And I'm only one volume into Sandman.)  and a spin-off of that spin-off (The Dead Boy Detectives) which sucks HARDCORE.  I read Preludes & Nocturnes... I'm not sure if it was a prequel series made after the original series or what, but I jumped into it okay.  There wasn't a huge learning curve, even if Martian Manhunter and the Scarecrow make appearances (yep).  The only other related book was Dream Country, which is a collection of random quasi-related stories... That was good, though.  Plus you get to see Morpheus wearing a ruff, sooo...
But yeah.  I like the series so far, but unfortunately my access to it is limited until the summer (or maybe spring break, if I'm really lucky--shut up I don't have a life at all).  The local library has only these two volumes (I believe), the school library only has The League of Extraordinary Gentleman (I tried reading it again but it's just so baaaaad), and my library at home only has the aforementioned spin-offs.  Soo I'll keep you updated.  But it's cool.  Very cool.

I read JD Salinger's Nine Stories, too.  I can't do a whole post for that--I don't really like focusing on short story collections.  His stories are always all right, and always seem to be constructed okay, if not really well--but the ends are just... just failed.  Talk about going out with a bang instead of a whimper.  I can never quite follow them, for example, "A Perfect Day For Bananafish" starts out with the girl talking to her mother on the phone about her boyfriend, then it goes to the boyfriend who's being kind of creepy on the beach in a robe talking to young girls (yeah, I thought pedophile--even before it mentioned the girls, it was the robe that made me suspicious), who then shoots himself.  It ends with him going into the room where she is sleeping and him loading up a gun a then shooting himself.  I... What?  What, because the little girl ran away before they were done talking or whatever?  What?  The next story does a lot of Holden Caulfield "I mean it--I mean I mean it" stuff that makes me want to pull my hair out.
The Esme story is in here too, and it's probably my favourite.  Well, half of it is.  Half of it is a little slice of life sort of deal, he meets a girl named Esme while in England during the war.  Esme asks him to write her a story, and the second half of that story is presumably it?  I'm not sure.  But he's very good at presenting slice of lifes, just bad at making them do things.  On the plus side, he writes about Connecticut all the time, and that's always exciting for me.
Anyways, these stories are more himself than anything else.  All stories and art and music is the creator in some way, but these are a psychological study more than anything else.  They are way more telling about Salinger's mental mechanisms than they are about anything else, I feel like.  And I'm not just saying it because of all the analyzing in his daughter's book.  I don't even really remember what she said, other than that she mentioned "Bananafish" a lot.  But if you're interested in Salinger's mind, I'd suggest it.  If you're kind of lukewarm on him, like me, you might not really be interested in this as much.  Salinger's style in these stories isn't nearly as grating as Catcher in the Rye, but I still got bored quickly.


Wow, long post.  I'm rereading Crabwalk, but I'm not going to write anything for it because I hate it even more this time around.  Oops...

(Also, spellchecker has decided to peace out for this post, so sorry if I missed anything.)