Book #136: American Psycho

Book #136: American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis

November 29, 2014

Not long ago, my nephew was fascinated to see that a display case in the children's section was covered in CAUTION tape. "Did someone break it?" he asked me. I explained that it was their display of frequently banned children's books; innocent classics like the works of Roald Dahl, the Harry Potter series, A Wrinkle in Time, you know. They also posted the ridiculous reasons why these books were banned in various places. It was to raise awareness for Banned Books Week; I concluded by asking my nephew, "It's not cool to tell people what they can or can't read, is it?" He agreed.

I was disappointed to see no such display in General Fiction for teens and adults, but then again, it might have made me remember that my local library network, for all of their celebrating of reading the censored and banned classics, do ban books to this very day. There is at least one author who is banned from my local libraries:Bret Easton Ellis.

So when I noticed copies of his books at Half-Priced Books, I couldn't resist getting this oh-so controversial author's best known novel. I've seen snippets of the movie; Christian Bale does have the right creeper vibe to pull off Bateman, but as I read the book, I found myself picturing someone more fresh-faced, barely out of business school, truly the boy-next-door (he is constantly referred to as such by members of his clueless social circle). You wouldn't necessarily look at him and think "killer"; more like "douchebag" or "trust fund baby." Christian Bale almost looks too psychotic to play this psycho.

This book was certainly a cure for my longing for a character-driven story, even if the character is horrifying. Yet the world he lives in is almost as horrifying. The thing is, as you read, you really understand Bateman. He comes from a vapid, pointless culture; too much money, too much shit to buy, too many distractions, nothing real. I mean, people fucking mix each other up all the time in Bateman's world, which allows the murder of another Wall Street guy to go unnoticed for months and months...because people swear they keep seeing the guy in London. Bateman isn't exactly cold and calculating; he's out of his fucking mind, but his slip-ups and confessions go unnoticed because nobody fucking knows who anybody else is in his world!

And such a world (which I don't get) is the perfect place for Bateman to hide. His obsessive nature works to his advantage; it's considered a good thing that he spends hours a day exercising, that he's very careful of what he eats (except when he has a craving for human flesh), that he obsesses over fashion. The roll call of designers for every piece of clothing that he and his crowd wore in every scene were appropriately tedious. The whole fucking culture that Bateman worships of labels and appearances and going to the trendiest, hippest places is disgusting, and yet it's all that's keeping him from really going off the deep end...in fact, that's not even enough anymore, as he's really losing his shit throughout the book, getting worse, and you hope (pray!) that getting caught is inevitable. But he did call his lawyer with a lengthy confession, but the lawyer thought it was a joke and didn't even recognize Bateman when he next saw him!

Since this book takes you into the mind of a really psychotic man, shit gets graphic. The sex/rape scenes were really detailed, more so than anything I've ever read that hasn't been specifically designated as fictional porn. The scenes with two women together wouldn't have bothered me (like at all) if not for two things: one, that Bateman wasn't considering these things as "degrading" (and they wouldn't have been if he weren't there), and two, if I couldn't have guessed what could happen next to those poor girls.

The murder scenes...whoa. There was a lot of cringing, gasping, cries of "oh my God" on my part as I read (or rather skimmed) these. Look, Bateman doesn't just kill people; he tortures them, mutilates them, makes liberal use of power tools. He's like a particularly destructive child with a toy, disturbingly imaginative. Bateman loves to kill, and he loves to cause any kind of pain possible. He's disappointed after discreetly stabbing a child in the neck at a crowded penguin exhibit; he mistakenly believed that the grief for a child will be less than the grief for a grown person, thereby inflicting less pain. He doesn't just inflict physical pain; a girlfriend of his (therefore, safer from his bloodlust than most other people) is forced to get an abortion, and the same day he buys and sends her items for a baby to mock her. He also implies that he, uh, performed two abortions in former girlfriends himself, which I don't even want to picture (best case scenario: stairs). He wants to cause pain: to tiny animals, to other people, anything and anyone.

He's obviously very mentally ill, and his diet of steroids, cocaine, and pills pills pills doesn't help at all. It seems to run in his family; his mother is in some sort of hospital/institution for reasons that can only be inferred, and the only thing we know about his father is that he's rich as shit...other things may be inferred. Bateman has a cousin who raped a girl and bit off her earlobes. The man clearly needs serious, serious help. He even saw a psychiatrist for a while...undoubtedly it was no more than a drug connection. 

Okay, I can clearly see why this book would be an easy target for censors and the morality police. But I felt like the graphic details have their merit. The shallowness, the dullness, of Bateman's outer life, in stark contrast to his very dark and dusturbing private life...it's all brought together to show two years in the life of a very twisted man and his very twisted world. Did his yuppie culture that he loves so much create him, or does it simply enable his horrific lifestyle? That's unclear, but what is clear is that a world like that, uncaring and disgustingly blah, is the perfect place for monsters. I consider the right way to live to be completely the opposite of what Bateman and his crowd value, and this book only reinforces my own values. 

Needless to say, I will read more by Ellis in the future...though I won't look for him at my local library. 

Book #135: Messenger

Book #135: Messenger by Lois Lowry

November 27, 2014

Happy Thanksgiving! After celebrating with my family, I came home and finished this book, the third in Lowry's "Giver Quartet" of novels. It was too short. The plot was too simple and resolved unsatisfactorily. The complaints that I had about Gathering Blue only working in conjunction with other books? I feel exactly the same about this book, and the plot wasn't even all that compelling. 

A shame, because I'd been looking forward to reading a story in the perspective of Matt (yes, now Matty). But he's kind of a boring narrator; he reflects on how he used to be naughty, until he moved to Village with Kira's father and becomes swayed by the loving influence of this utopia. Since Matty moved there, Jonas has become the leader. In fact, he is called Leader. Everyone and everything significant is referred to literally. The schoolteacher's "true name" is Mentor; the blind man is (ironically) Seer. The forest isn't called "the forest," but just "Forest." It's kind of fucking stupid.

So things are changing for the worse in Village at the start of the book. Some tradesman is like trading people their souls or their health for the items they most covet: gaming machines (what is the deal with those, anyway?), a woman's affections, whatever. It's not explained why, nor is it explained why this tradesman (the devil, maybe?) would want to turn people selfish, as the usually welcoming Village people vote to close their town to any more outsiders. It makes me think of Stephen King's Needful Things, except no motive is yet clear. 

It seems that, partly by Jonas and Kira's influence in their own home communities, overall conditions across the land are improving. It did not escape my attention that Kira wore all blue in this book. But for whatever reason, as Village threatened to go bad, Forest (huge and magical, tentatively connecting many communities to Village) has become hostile. Which is the main conflict of the book, I guess. 

Jonas and Kira (who are going to fall in love and bang and make babies, obviously) are both psychic or whatever, while Matty has magical healing powers. When all three of them are trapped in angry Forest, he sacrifices his life to heal his friends, the people in Village, Forest, and he even brings his puppy back to life. But he is dead...but all of the problems of the book are resolved, and all of the evil done by the trades is undone. 

This book could have been so much better. I feel like Lowry just slapped it together; she could have written it in a day, for all I can tell. The thing is, I'd still like to read the fourth of this "quartet." It's set back in Jonas's home village, told from the perspective of a young birth mother. To be one is considered the most base assignment that a girl can have. The teaser chapter seemed rather dark, and more exciting than any part of Messanger. I highly doubt that many questions that this series brings up will be answered, so I'd almost advise against reading this one.

Book #134: Life of Pi

Book #134: Life of Pi by Yann Martel

November 25, 2014

This book is one that's gained attention in the last decade, including a film version a couple of years ago. I've heard mixed reviews about this book, and I have mixed feelings about it now that I've read it for myself. On the one hand, the story itself is exciting and well-paced. But the main character Pi is kind of blah.

See, I got why the story went into such detail about how animals in zoos adapt to their environments and how they become submissive to their human handlers through training and conditioning. That explained how a teenage boy could survive for months, adrift on a lifeboat, with a huge tiger. And of course Pi would know about all that stuff, having grown up the son of a zoo owner. When he and his family are on a cargo ship to sell their animals and settle into a new life in Canada, the ship sinks in the Pacific, Pi and a rag tag group of animals being the only survivors. The hyena eventually preys on the injured zebra and the orangutan, and the tiger, Richard Parker, gets the hyena. Pi conditions the tiger to stay in his part of the boat, and he works tirelessly to provide food and fresh water for them both. Months later, they land in Mexico.

What I didn't get was the religious aspect of the whole thing. See, a couple of years before his ordeal, Pi begins enthusiastically embracing all three of the major religions in India:Hinduism, Islam, and Christianity. He prays to Allah, Vishnu, and Jesus equally. He is flabbergasted when the local religious leaders take offense to the fact that he won't pick just one. 

This in itself isn't my problem. I like the idea of not allowing doctrinal boundaries to limit one's spiritual journey. My problem is that the author's message (because these religious themes are so very prominent) is unclear. If Pi didn't draw strength from three faiths, would he not have survived his ordeal? It almost seemed like Martel set it up to have a religiousy message, but then backed out. In a way, it makes me think of how young Tricia, lost in the woods, drew comfort from her favorite baseball team in The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. But if that's all it is, then Pi's passion for God could be replaced with just about anything: a love for geometry, an obsession with soccer. 

As it is, Pi wasn't a terribly well fleshed-out character. The story is definitely plot-driven rather than character-driven. I almost feel like this would be a good book to teach in my current environment. For younger readers, it might give them an interesting perspective on other religions, morality, and the fact that at its heart is a survival story would keep their interest. For me, I thought the story was just okay. 

One final note: I hate that the author included himself as a character in the story. I felt like the portions from his (fictional) perspective and the details on Pi's later life added nothing to the story. 

Book #133: Mrs. Dalloway

Book #133: Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

November 24, 2014

I'm on my first day of a week-long break from work. I spent my time admirably: I got up around eight, consumed a whole batch of cinnamon rolls, took a nap, and watched Netflix. As an afterthought, I did go to the gym, and I got Indian food. And of course, read. 

I picked up this book, and a few others, recently. It's been a while since I bought any books, but I may be motivated to now that I've made it very very clear to my father that I want a bookshelf for Christmas. The little shelves that I've had since childhood don't fit all my novels, let alone my professional research materials. Plus, I've asked my sister to get me an Amazon gift card for more ebooks...she called me a nerd but I think she's glad that I'm so easy to buy for.

Virginia Woolf...I've always found her interesting, but never knew much about her. Nicole Kidman famously wore an ugly fake nose to play her, and won an Oscar for it. Maeby Fünke wore the nose to be Shirley Woolfbeak (haha, get it?). I know she killed herself by stuffing rocks into her pockets and walking into a body of water to drown, but otherwise I don't know a whole lot about her. I don't think I'm afraid of her (haha, I got jokes); she was definitely a unique voice.

Mrs. Dalloway was published by Woolf and her husband's own company, Hogarth. I'm certain that I have ordered and used academic texts from this very same company, so it's obviously still active today. The book (short, shy of 200 pages) is a day in London. The plot is centered around Clarissa Dalloway, a middle-aged society woman who is giving a party that evening. The narrative of the story is the thoughts and observations of various characters, especially Mrs. Dalloway; her ex Peter Walsh (who happens to show up in London that day, having been in India for years); and others connected to Clarissa in various ways. Because the story switches perspectives frequently (and abruptly at times), and because the conscious thoughts of the characters mingle with their observations and actions and dialogue, reading this book requires attention, you could say. And its themes aren't exactly clear; I could definitely see this book being a topic of extensive study and discussion. 

One clear theme of this book is regret. Depression, dissatisfaction perhaps, are others. I found myself comparing Clarissa with Septimus, even before Clarissa heard of the young man's suicide through their one connection, Lord William, who had prescribed him confined bed rest that very morning and had shared the news of his sudden, gruesome suicide (falling to his death out of a window and onto an iron fence; I think one of the sisters in Jeffrey Eugenides's The Virgin Suicides goes that way). I compared them before Clarissa compared herself to him, so obviously it was one that Woolf wanted readers to make. And here's what I found myself wondering:

At first I was like, Septimus's issues were clearly more serious. He was very very mentally ill, suffering from PTSD after World War I. This was, of course, during a time when there was little real understanding about mental illness, about the ways that trauma affects the human brain. His long-suffering wife Rezia, whom he met after the war in Italy, wants to find a quick fix, and is wary of well-meaning Lord William but trusting of the ignorant, pompous doctor. She is definitely in denial about the situation, though she is a sympathetic character.

Indeed almost everyone is sympathetic, because you get their perspective for at least some of the story. This book doesn't really have a plot, per se, but is rather a look at human life: emotions, memories, death. And that made me think, maybe I don't have a right to rank people's problems, saying that Septimus had more of a right to fall apart that Clarissa, who seems to be just holding herself together. Everybody has their shit. Even Miss Kilman, in many ways a despicable character, has a perspective. She blames her problems on other people and uses religion as a way to feel above people who intimidate her, but she has some convictions. She had a tough life, but still stood up for her principles, even when it meant losing a job. She seems like an awful person, but Clarissa seems to connect with her despair.

This book is sometimes referred to as "art," and I'd agree with that. It's definitely not a breeze-through sort of book, but rather a tapestry of a day in the life. Mrs. Dalloway, dealing with her declining health and a growing dissatisfaction in her lifestyle and a daughter growing apart from her, is going through some stuff, just as everybody is. And maybe something to keep in mind is that everyone has regrets and everyone wants something, though many people don't know what that is. And we are all connected, even in the loosest sense of the word. 

I would like to learn more about Virginia Woolf. Maybe I should watch that one movie? She wrote several other novels, and I certainly want to check out more of her work. She was definitely unconventional, and while I used to shy away from such texts, I'm seeing more how unique writing styles can present essential perspectives, allowing readers to know characters in different, important ways.

Book #132: The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb

Book #132: The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb by Melanie Benjamin

November 21, 2014

There is an actual Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb, a collection of M. Lavinia Warren Bump Stratton's incomplete memoirs. They, like Benjamin's fictional (though fact-based) narrative, mainly discuss Vinnie's childhood; her time as the tiniest, most adorable, and yet competent school teacher; and her years as a performer, an "oddity" who became famous worldwide for her diminutive stature and her marriage to Charles Stratton, aka Tom Thumb.

I must admit, I knew little about "Tom Thumb" before reading this book. When I read June Melby's memoir about her family's miniature golf course, called Tom Thumb, I recognized the name; I thought he was a mythological being.

Nope, he was real. His "proportionate dwarfism" was caused by a family history of inbreeding. Same with Vinnie and Minnie. Vinnie's connections to the Warren family of Massachusetts was repeatedly mentioned; P.T. Barnum banked on this as he presented her as a tiny society lady, no object of ridicule like other little people in entertainment. Vinnie had ancestors who came over on the Mayflower. That makes me think of Gilmore Girls (I've about binged out on all the episodes by now; thanks, Netflix). When Rory is disrespected by Logan's snotty family, she points out that she had ancestors on the Mayflower as well. And there was also inbreeding in her family. Though nowadays, if descendants of early inbreeding society families develop "proportionate dwarfism," they can get hormonal growth supplements or something. 

Vinnie is depicted as being vulnerable with a tough exterior. She's always felt a need to protect her smaller sister, yet she brings her with her into the world of entertainment. But Barnum keeps them protected in the business end of things; during their hey day, it sounds like things were pretty damn sweet for General and Mrs. Tom Thumb.

They were huge celebrities. Their wedding got the same kind of publicity as the most high profile weddings today (think royalty, not Kardashian). They had powerful friends, and travelled the world. But Benjamin depicts Vinnie as being unhappy and insecure, though she does love to perform. She's so different, it's the only place she's ever felt like she could fit.

Vinnie's marriage to Stratton is depicted as being not loveless, but completely lacking in passion. I mean, no sex at all. Vinnie was terrified of the prospect of getting pregnant, and that's no surprise. She was just over two feet tall; she was born a normal-sized baby, typical in "proportionate dwarfism." Minnie herself died in childbirth; her baby was normal-sized, of course. Just try not to picture it...gruesome. 

So maybe the no sex at all idea is realistic, but I would be curious to know the true nature of the "Thumbs" and their married life. I'm not saying I want to picture little people doing the nasty, I'd just want proof that Benjamin wasn't quite right. Otherwise, I feel really bad for both of them. 

Much of Benjamin's plot revolves around the idea that Vinnie was in love with Barnum. The author's notes on her research indicate that the events of the book are fact-based, but there's no real note on why Benjamin interpreted their relationship this way. But then again, since Stratton was a good friend of Barnum, it makes sense that Vinnie and Barnum would also be close. Barnum essentially arranged the marriage; this is undoubtedly so. He made them two of the biggest celebrities in the world. P.T. Barnum seems like he was a fascinating man, if he was mainly concerned with money and fame. But Benjamin softens him; he really cares for his friends. 

There's a lot of historical fiction published these days, and this is one from a unique perspective. Some of the themes in this book grew tedious over time (as Vinnie reflects on the same fears over and over again), but overall I found this an interesting story. Plus, as I've said, I love books that teach me something, and that's what I look for in quality historical fiction. 

Book #131: The Fellowship of the Ring

Book #131: The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

November 20, 2014

It's been over a decade since The Lord of the Rings trilogy of films were released and made Peter Jackson a shitload of money. I believe that the movies were meant to be appreciated by a wider audience than might otherwise read the source material, but I still found them a little confusing. I didn't even really quite grasp the fact that the ring that Frodo possessed was the most important ring, and I certainly had no clue why Merry and Pippin ended up in Gondor in the midst of a battle (and who was fighting whom, by the way?). Was I too stoned during my single viewings of each of the films, or what? I think I've addressed before, though, how I'm not a big movie watcher. I much prefer books, of course, but I can also binge-watch certain shows on Netflix for hours. Go figure. 

I could go on and on, but I'm already off track. So I think the last movie for The Hobbit is coming out soon, or something. That's like 80 years after the book was originally published. Tolkien, who made his living as a professor of language history (he was an expert on Anglo-Saxon influences on the development of English), published this first part of The Lord of the Rings about 20 years after The Hobbit. I might imagine that his extensive writings on Middle Earth (certainly his own fantastical version of the real sort of history that he studied and taught) and his other, lesser-known works, were a beloved hobby for him, but he was able to finally write the whole famous trilogy after he retired from his career. Not knowing much about Tolkien's other works, I'm really just speculating here.

The rewrite of the Gollum chapter in The Hobbit is explained by Bilbo in this book. I think the original read that he got the ring from Gollum as a gift after beating him in his riddle game, because that's the lie that Bilbo owns. Gandalf had been suspicious of the ring since the beginning, but it's not until many years later that he learns of its true deadly nature. 

Bilbo is actually fairly prominent in the first part of the book. He is admired but held in some suspicion by fellow hobbits in the Shire, but is admired and respected by many outside of the Shire, for his involvement in the events of the previous book. Gandalf convinces Bilbo to leave his heir, his favored younger cousin Frodo, the powerful ring when Bilbo decides to leave the Shire for good. Bilbo is, of course, more than reluctant.

It's many more years before Frodo is sent on his quest to destroy the powerful ring, the one ring that, if back in the possession of its creator Sauron, an evil wizard (or something) that is steadily regaining power in Middle Earth, will bring the kingdoms of men, elves, and probably all the species of intelligent creatures great and small, to his command. He and Sam (his very faithful servant), Merry, and Pippin encounter many dangers and adventures on the way to Rivendell, and that of course is not the extent of it for this book. 

Tom Bombadil and his wife Goldberry are not included in the movies, of course. I have a hard time deciding if Bombadil is awesome, or really fucking obnoxious. He's always singing and prancing around, and he's all-powerful in his neck of the woods. He wants only to live in peace and comfort, and it is doubted that he will venture from there to fight against Sauron's forces. Jackson and others involved in the making of the movies must have felt him more annoying than fun, obviously.

More is explained about the histories of men, dwarves, and elves in this book. The friendship between Gimli (one of the better developed characters; he looks like mini-Hagrid in the movies) and Legolas is meant to symbolize a coming of peace between elves and dwarves, who have a tumultuous history, in better times. Since the second and third movies continue to follow these characters to Gondor, even after Sam and Frodo depart for Mordor alone, I know that the books will have a lot more about these characters and creatures.

Tolkien made his living learning about and teaching ancient history, so it makes sense that he would have fun creating his own whimsical, imaginary histories and worlds and languages. Millions of people have had fun in Middle Earth as well. Tolkien's works have been a prominent part of "nerd culture" for decades, long before those movies came out. I found the first of The Lord of the Rings trilogy to be delightful (and Sam is still my favorite character), and while I'm not clambering to read the second one, I'll probably get to it in the next year.

Book #130: The City of Ember

Book #130: The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau

November 12, 2014

I was pretty lucky in my first year of teaching. I had a very bright group of 7th graders (those kiddos would be juniors now, holy cow!) for language arts and reading. I was able to assign them many novels that year; some went over better than others, but overall I had fun teaching that group. They told me about a book they'd all been assigned as 6th graders that was generally popular, the very book I'm reviewing now. I've been meaning to read it for that long.

I can see why this book would be good to use with middle schoolers: the plot is fast-paced, and there are many opportunities for kids to make inferences. Overall I found the book enjoyable; the plot is fairly standard in the dystopia genre, but I've written before about how I enjoy those kind of books generally, and teen readers tend to gravitate to them.

A negative Goodreads reviewer expressed disbelief that while all of the adults in Ember were helpless, two children had the gumption and the luck to find a way out of the underground city. This reviewer is obviously not familiar with YA literature. Kids outwitting adults is a very common theme, and considering the situation, and what I know of human nature, I don't find it unbelievable at all.

See, the people in Ember have no clue about anything. This was by design; about 250 years before the start of the story, 100 senior citizens and 100 babies were put in Ember to protect the human race. My guess is that they were put underground either in the 1960s, or in modern times. There was fear that wars or disaster would wipe out the human race. These select people are meant to start a new society, living in this city that has been build and wired and stocked for their survival. They are dependent on electricity; nothing can grow, and no one can see, without the artificial light. People in Ember were meant to be ignorant of the world above ground until 220 years after the first people went in, so that they wouldn't leave early and like suffocate on noxious air or something.

People in Ember don't have books. They can't create anything new; they reuse everything again and again. They don't know about religion, or animals, or the sun and moon. They only know life in Ember, and they believe that theirs is the only city anywhere, and that all else is darkness.

It doesn't surprise me that Doon and Lina, the two main characters, have dreamt of light. I mean, human beings all probably have a built-in instinct about sunlight and nature, and being stuck in darkness forever, the people in Ember would subconsciously crave to be outside. Biologically, they would need it.

The people in Ember don't seem especially unhappy about their circumstances...if the supplies weren't running out and the generator weren't breaking down. They've stayed longer than intended. To guard the secret of the city, the "Builders" of old had left instructions for how to get out of Ember with the mayor, and the locked box was meant to be passed from mayor to mayor until it opened by timer. The problem is that one mayor took the box home, attempted to break in, then shoved the box in a closet before he died. Oops.

Turns out that this mayor was a past relation of Lina's, and her grandmother, suffering from dementia, finds the box one day as she is going through all her things blindly. The lock has already opened, and Lina's beloved baby sister manages to eat and tear up the instructions before Lina discovers them. But Lina, with some help, is able to piece enough of the message back together that she and Doon can find a way out of Ember. And they're desperate to get away quickly: the current mayor has it in for them. When they were searching the Pipeworks, they find a door that, as Doon discovers, leads to the fatass mayor's secret horde of stuff stolen from the city's supplies. His refusal to act on Lina's tip about an exit just shows his fear and complacency in Ember. People don't like change, or the unknown. 

The book ends when Lina sends a message down to Ember. She and Doon, having gotten out, realize that they never left clear instructions with anyone. So once they're above ground, and they've been dazzled by the beauty of the countryside they find themselves in, they look for another way to access Ember. They find a narrow cave that leads to an opening above a huge cavern, with the city right below. The book ends with Lina's kind guardian finding her note, which I imagine leads right into the sequel.

The only thing that irked me about this book was a couple of comments that might be interpreted as thinly-veiled religious messages. When Clary made her comment about something having had to create life, I had a bad feeling. I guess I find the idea of religious indoctrination of unsuspecting children to be distasteful. Then again, if The City of Ember is some sort of religious allegory for, like, seeking the light through the words of the creator or something, it's not terribly in your face about it. Hell, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is widely known to be an allegory for Jesus battling Satan or whatever, and it's a popular children's classic. Anyway, in our culture, I'd expect young readers to have questions about religion in this book. After all, they can't have Bibles, they can't know about seas and deserts and forests and boats. 

More than anything, I find Ember to be a fascinating setting. I could see myself reading the next book in this series, perhaps if it's available at my school library. It's a quality children's novel, perhaps a kid's first introduction to the dystopian genre. 

Book #129: Inferno

Book #129: Inferno by Dan Brown

November 9, 2014

A coworker of mine recently expressed frustration that some other coworkers seem determined to make some things at work as complicated as possible. That's essentially how I felt about this book, about the plot overall and about the "villain" Zobrist's plan.

So I read The Da Vinci Code when it was wildly popular, my junior or senior year of high school. At that time the twists and turns in the plot thrilled me, plus I felt like I was reading a "smart" mystery. Now a (I'd like to think) more sophisticated reader, I have a hard time deciding if the Robert Langdon series is trash lit for smart people, or a shot of culture for the masses. Either way, I found it unsatisfying. 

First off, the entire plot doesn't make sense. See, Zobrist was a genetic engineer or something, a brilliant scientist, who correctly pointed out that the world's population is getting out of control. He hires a corporation to "hide" him while he develops an airborne virus that, like, alters people's DNA or something so that like a third of people, forever and ever, will be unable to have babies. Now, this isn't the only instance of over-the-top "science" in this book, and that along with the details on Dante and The Divine Comedy, and Italian art and history is just exhausting. But I think Brown would have had something here if he'd cut out the Italian and Dante stuff, cut out the pointless treasure hunt, and cut out that shmuck Robert Langdon.

I fucking hate Robert Langdon. He is beyond douchey. This was especially frustrating due to the fact that his presence in the situation was pointless. What the hell was the point of the treasure hunt again, and Zobrist's elaborate clues based on his supposed obsession with Dante? I don't buy into his Dante fantasism, which is kind of a big problem because that's the foundation on which the plot is built. Like, why is this scientist obsessed with Dante, anyway? If it were explained, then maybe I would buy into the plot. Zobrist was a fascinating character, a huge creep, which made his supposedly earnest supplications to Sinsky seem unbelievable because he came off really intensely. Think Paris Gellar crossed with Batman. No wonder she called him a terrorist and stormed out.

But since Zobrist supposedly was obsessed with Dante, that brings Robert Langdon onto the scene, who so happens to be an expert on Dante and Dante-inspired art and Florence. But at the beginning of the book, he has amnesia. This turns out to have been induced by some strange drug. He's being played by the organization that's hired to hide Zobrist and blindly help him execute his plans. Supposedly this organization (run by a slimy, amoral worm called 'the provost') is based on one that really exists, and supposedly they help nations to perpetrate mass lies to the public. Way to feed into conspiracy theories. I don't even care.

Zobrist's lover Sienna is recruited by the organization to use Langdon to protect Zobrist's virus (of course they don't know that's what it is, but she does), and she poses as a doctor who "helps" Langdon to "escape" from the "hospital." But she really wants to use Langdon herself to stop the virus, though she doesn't tell him the truth for some reason. Oh, and get this: the virus had already been released by Zobrist before he killed himself. Oops. So why did he need to leave the stupid clues? Why couldn't he send Sinsky a message that said "waych the birth rates" or "nah nah nah nah, I'm cutting down the world's population by 1/3 and you can't stop me, nah nah." That'd pretty much get the point across, right? And if he wanted Sienna to "protect" the virus, as he said in his video, and he wrote to her shortly before his death, why didn't he just tell her it was in Istanbul? 

I'm done ranting about this book. It's the second and last Robert Langdon I'll ever read. One last thing that nagged me, though: whenever the character expressed surprise or anguish, their questions would end in the double-punctuation "?!" or "!?" (Brown mixed it up a little throughout). I think that this is acceptable while texting, or even used very very sparingly in other forms of writing. But we're talking like every single page here, since the characters tended to be shocked more than the reader. Now, I could go on to discuss how the female characters were sexist, how Brown gives and withholds details obnoxiously in order to confuse readers, or I could continue to explain why I despise Robert Langdon (who the fuck says "thank heavens" to his agent when he wakes him on the phone in the middle of the night?). He's meant to be like a thinking man's Indiana Jones, but fuck it. I'm done here.

Book #128: The Iliad

Book #128: The Iliad by Homer (translated by Edward Earl of Derby)

November 2, 2014

When I was 12, I dislocated my elbow. It was a pretty gnarly injury; it couldn't easily be popped back into place, and I had to wear an enormous cast on my left arm for like two months. The day after I injured it, I stayed home from school. My dad brought home a book for me, a childhood favorite of his: D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths by Ingri and Edgar Parin. This amazing book is in print to this day. It has fantastic illustrations, and tells the stories of the most prominent Greek gods and goddesses, myths of other demigod creatures (nymphs and centaurs and such), and stories of the great mortal heroes: Jason, Herecles, Odyseus. And it tells the complete (though very condensed) story of the Trojan War, from the contest that gave already-married Helen's hand to Paris, to to the Trojan Horse and the sacking of Ilium, which I think is the royal or capitol city of Troy.

The Iliad does not tell the complete story of the war. It isn't really meant to stand alone, but rather as one of a series of epic poems (credited to others, I assume, as The Iliad and The Odyssey are both credited to Homer). Why Homer's poems have withstood the test of time, I don't know. Maybe his attention to detail with the lives and emotions of the characters set his work above others? This poem (the translation put me in mind of Shakespeare; indeed, it wouldn't be a far cry to say that the Bard and his contemporaries were influenced by Homer) was mostly entertaining. The only truly unnecessary details were when Homer did a sort of "roll call" of the leaders of Greece and Troy and their respective allies. That part can mainly be ignored; you get to know the central characters on either side as the story progresses.

The polytheist religion of the ancient Greeks is fascinating. Their mythology, including this story, shows the gods being very personally and emotionally involved in the lives of mortals. So much so that like half the Greek and Trojan leaders had a god for a father; Achilles was somewhat unique in having a goddess mother instead. The gods are not benevolent or all-knowing; mortals are basically their playthings. Making a sacrifice won't necessarily get you a god's favor, but neglecting the sacrifice will get you the wrath of one. And if you aren't favored by a god, you better watch the fuck out. Essentially, it's like having giant human beings in charge; the Judeo-Christian god of the Old Testament sounds more like Zeus than like Jesus.

What was confusing about the poem were the names. I figured out that mortal men were called by like three different names: a given name, "son of" whomever, or by their second name (a veriation of the father's given name). Once I figured out the Agamemnon, Atreus' son, and Atrides were all the same person, things made a lot more sense. Of course, Atreus' son and Atrides could also refer to Menelaus, Agamemnon's brother and the husband Helen was taken from. Yeesh!

I was also thrown that the gods were referred to by their Roman names rather than their Greek names: Jove, Juno, Pallas, Mars, Neptune instead of Zeus, Hera, Artemis, Ares, Poseidon. But I was familiar enough with these to keep them straight.

This being a well-known story in Ancient Greece, the values of that society might be judged by this story. Plato criticized the myths as championing low morals: violence, trickery, desecration of bodies, raping and enslavement to women. All of these are hugely present in the story. Knowing the fate of the women of Troy (though the end of the war is not told in The Iliad) is cringe-worthy. The Greeks aim to pillage their city and take the women away, to toil and be degraded for the rest of their lives. Achilles' slaves, his "spoils" of war, pretend to mourn the death of his friend Patroclus, but really use it as an excuse to lament their own sorrows. And the many, many descriptions of men being beheaded, run through with spears, and disembowled in battle...Ancient Greece was pretty fucked up.

I read The Odyssey years ago, as a senior in high school, and I always intended to read The Iliad. I'm glad I did, but I think The Odyssey is the better of the two epic poems credited to Homer. There's some speculation that someone other than Homer wrote The Odyssey, but that may be something that is never known. These stories are older than the New Testament, and there's just so much that we can never know about their origins. I think, though, that if a story has survived for that long, it's worth reading.