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1596436581
| 9781596436589
| 1596436581
| 3.81
| 39,047
| Oct 14, 2014
| Oct 14, 2014
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it was ok
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The road to hell is paved with good intentions. In Real Life, this new graphic novel written by Cory Doctorow with art by Jen Wang is full of them. In
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. In Real Life, this new graphic novel written by Cory Doctorow with art by Jen Wang is full of them. In its heartfelt introduction, Cory Doctorow says that In Real Life is about game and economics, about the – political, economical, social – choices that we make on a daily basis and their consequences. About how social media and the Internet can potentially shape and change the world. The book portrays how Anda – the shy and lonely main character trying to fit in at her new school – starts playing Coarsegold Online, a MMRPG (for the non-initiated: massively-multiplayer role playing game) and gets involved with the real-life consequences of playing it. There are, I think, three aspects of the novel worth exploring. First of all, the clear and welcomed feminist message of the book. Anda starts playing it after a school visit by one of the game’s organisers who talks about the rise of female gamers, the problems encountered by them (sexism, misogyny) ending with a call-to-arms in which girls are specifically invited to play with female avatars.* The idea is that Coarsegold Online provides a welcoming and safe environment in which to do so. The story then follows Anda as she becomes more confident and develops relationships with other female gamers as well as other girls at her own school. This part of the book? Wonderful. Also great: Anda’s journey toward self-awareness and a larger comprehension about the complicated world at large. Whilst gaming, she becomes involved with Gold Farming. In the book, she befriends two other characters: one of them co-opts Anda into killing in-game gold famers (an illegal practice within the game); the other is a gold farmer himself, who turns out to be a poor kid from China, working in extremely poor conditions in a gold farming factory. This prompts Anda into realising the consequences of what she does on her side of the Atlantic, how it impacts other people then eventually spiralling into political activism. Whilst I appreciated very much Anda’s personal journey of self-awareness, I have serious misgivings about how this is actually dealt with in the book, which brings me to the third aspect of the novel I’d like to expand on – the one that made me angry and a little bit horrified. Now, Gold Farming is a real-life economic phenomenon in which players (often located at third world countries) can collect in-game valuable objects to sell them to other players (often in first world countries) for real money. This has rippling effects within gaming – leading to extreme prejudice against non-English speaking players as well as outside gaming: it has been reported that Gold Farming has become not only a lucrative business but one that usually involves extremely poor working conditions and exploitation of underprivileged workers. Needless to say, this is an extremely complex topic and I find it that depicting and addressing it with any real depth would have been difficult to start with in any scenario, but within a short graphic novel with less than 200 pages and exclusively from the perspective of a privileged American character? Probably not the best idea ever. This is how this plays out in In Real Life: Anda befriends Raymond – a 16-year-old Chinese kid who barely speaks English and works at a gold farming factory. Cue to a clumsy dialogue in which Raymond tells Anda everything about his terrible circumstances: he works the night shift for 12 hours every night because his family doesn’t have money to send him to college (the alternative would be to work at a zipper factory, which is worse). He hurt his back lifting boxes at his previous job and since the gold farming factory doesn’t offer medical insurance, he sometimes have to excuse himself to go to the bathroom so he can lie on the floor a little while and rest – he has a friend who has good hands and offers massages in exchange for cigarettes. CUE TO ANDA’S ANGST. Not Raymond’s, Anda’s. It’s her duty to protect him, so she will do everything to save him from his terrible life, to his eternal gratitude. And despite being a young kid herself and knowing nothing of the world or Raymond’s real circumstances, she decides to research. So SHE finds about local doctors he could go to and tell him to go to his coworkers and tell everyone they need to demand health care together or they will go on strike. This leads to Raymond getting fired. CUE TO ANDA’S ANGST. Not Raymond’s, Anda’s. Anda lying in her comfortable bed saying how the world is a cruel place. How it was HER FAULT FOR MAKING HIM BELIEVE THINGS WOULD BE OK. She then decides to get up and do more. She puts together a team of other privileged players, then: “I don’t know what is like to live in China and I don’t know what’s like to be a gold farmer but I do know what’s like to a kid who loves video games. If you would give me a chance, I will do anything to help you get him back. If you really care about him, you will help me spread this message”. The message is something she wrote, a call to action to other Chinese workers so they CAN FIGHT FOR THEIR RIGHTS. Which they do. And everything is ok in the world and Anda is HAILED as the hero who stands up for what is right. In the end, Raymond comes back. With a brand new Avatar, looking like prince charming, speaking almost perfect English, saying how things are better at his old job and how he was offered a new, better job by a random guy at an Internet café. The end. Everything is ok now. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. I understand the author’s intentions and completely sympathise with and admire them. I think there is a lot that is worth of praise here including the beautiful artwork by Jen Wang. However, as explored above, I don’t think those intentions were communicated well into the book. I felt utterly uncomfortable (to put it very mildly) about the depiction of the Chinese characters’ plight and the lack of viewpoint from their perspective – the stress on Anda’s feelings rather than Raymond’s about his own situation is problematic to the extreme and reeks, REEKS of white saviour complex and American superiority (cue me rolling my eyes when Anda was all horrified at the lack of proper health insurance in China when in America things are not exactly rainbows and ponies, are they.) In addition, this extremely complex situation has been simplified to the extreme with the throwaway ending. *Fucked-up fact about the world we live in: Cory Doctorow can write anything and criticise male gamers all he wants and he will probably get little to no flack for it. Meanwhile, Anita Sarkeesian puts forth the same message and criticisms and is attacked, humiliated and threatened ↩ ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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not set
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Sep 12, 2014
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Paperback
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0765332086
| 9780765332080
| 0765332086
| 3.05
| 520
| Jun 30, 2013
| Jul 16, 2013
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did not like it
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This review was posted at Kirkus.com A long time ago, all of the great Norse gods and goddesses died in the Last Battle. Only a handful of Valkyrie sur This review was posted at Kirkus.com A long time ago, all of the great Norse gods and goddesses died in the Last Battle. Only a handful of Valkyrie survived and were sent to Midgard (Earth). Each of them was tasked by Odin All-father to protect powerful artifacts that once belonged to the gods themselves, holding on for their possible return one day. And so the Valkyrie waited. And waited. Until the events of World War II moved them into action. Tired of waiting and tired of not fighting in the countless wars that came before, the Valkyrie Mist urged her sisters to help the humans in their time of need and to use the powerful artifacts they each held. The consequences of their hubris* and mingling in human affairs were swift. In modern-day San Francisco, Mist is finally making a life of her own still guarding—but never using—Odin’s Gungnir, the Spear that never misses its mark. Until, in just one day, a series of seemingly impossible events happen: She is attacked by a Frost Giant in a public park; comes across Dainn, a magic Elf in disguise; and realizes that her boyfriend was actually the trickster god Loki all along. And now he has taken Gungnir. As it turns out, the Aesir are not dead after all—they have been merely cut off in another dimension. But now the bridges are open again and Midgard is in danger, caught in a deadly game between gods. Mist and her new ally Dainn must do anything they can to protect their artifacts from falling in the wrong hands. And then Mist learns a secret that changes everything. Is there anything more frustrating to a reader than a book that shows a lot of promise and potential to start with but then goes off its tracks and derails completely into a confusing mess? First the good: I love the premise of Susan Krinard's Mist, with the Valkyrie protecting powerful artifacts. The opening chapter, taking place during WWII, was a powerful introduction to their story portraying the Valkyrie in their emotional struggle between doing what they have always done (i.e. obey the gods as their servants) and developing a different way of life. I particularly enjoyed Mist’s take on that struggle, her choice to go from observer and servant to a strong fighter with agency. At the beginning, she really convinced me as a powerful and smart gods-defiant and angst-ridden champion. But unfortunately, I felt all of this promise went wayward when the book suddenly changed tracks half way through. First of all, there was the abrupt point-of-view change. For the first seven chapters, the story is solely from Mist’s viewpoint. Then, all of a sudden, Dainn’s voice is introduced, then Loki’s, then even a few random paragraphs from a secondary character. It’s weird since it starts quite late into the story but also since it kind of detracts from the plot—some of it relies heavily on the secrets being kept from Mist, and since those are secrets that obviously both Dainn and Loki are privy of, Mist often comes across as frustratingly naïve. This would not be a problem per se if it wasn’t for the fact that it clashed so much with the portrayal of Mist as an extremely clever person for the first 7 chapters. Then we have the fact that the main storyline shifts and the story becomes all about how Mist is the Most Powerful and Unique Being in the History of Ever (without even knowing about it) and who is also Beautiful Beyond Compare (without even realizing it). Without spoiling The Secret, it is hard to suspend disbelief that the above—her magic, her specific type of power, her extreme beauty—never made an appearance before. I am not going to mention the fact that the goddess Freya is merely reduced to how hot she is or that characters who have known each other for about 48 hours are willing to throw their lives away for one another, no actual relationship development needed. Those problems are compounded by how the story is exposition heavy with back story and action-halting explanations that make the book rather…bland and emotionless. The actual development of the characters and storylines did not have enough depth to allow for us to care about the many emotional punches the book throws at the characters. And finally, my main problem with the novel? The writing of the few LGBT and PoC characters. First of all, there is the implied attraction that one minor male character has for another male character. Then, the book features rape and sexual molestation, all of them always man-on-man. I like what Fangs for the Fantasy had to say about it: Which brings me to GBLT characters – we have the implied Ryan and we have… Loki. In mythology Loki sleeps with anyone and everything up to and including the stallion Svadilfari. That alone doesn’t make him a good representation for GBLT characters. But in this book he has sex with one man – as a woman then changing his shape to a man to use as blackmail against his sex partner. And he lusts after and sexually molests Dainn, who he previously had sex with while shapeshifted to look like Frejya. There’s a whole lot of sexual predation going on here and it’s all directed at other men and leaves a general bad taste in my mouth. Quite. The PoC characters are not better. One of them is a Japanese-American who randomly shows up in the story and magically seems to know martial arts. The other is a Mexican girl who goes around yelling expletives. This is where things made me incredibly angry not only because of the stereotype but also because some of the Spanish she spoke was wrong. At one point, she yells “idioto.” You do not say "idioto" in Spanish. It should be "idiota" for both men and women (unlike “stupid” which is gendered depending on who you are talking to). This might come across as a minor thing but to me it is incredibly offensive. Protip: If you are writing a Spanish speaking character and if you want the character to speak Spanish in the book, please do your research. Otherwise, it just sounds as though you are not being careful or respectful enough with cultures and languages not your own. I want diversity and I want inclusion in SFF but this is not good enough, folks. Do your homework and avoid stereotypes. And I will leave it at that. In Book Smugglerish, a disheartened 4 (maybe 3?) out of 10. ...more |
Notes are private!
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Aug 23, 2013
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not set
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Aug 23, 2013
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Paperback
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0374318549
| 9780374318543
| 0374318549
| 3.92
| 2,985
| Feb 20, 2007
| Feb 20, 2007
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it was ok
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WARNING, THIS REVIEW IS FOR BOTH BOOKS IN THE DUET. Part 1: The Spoiler-Free Review Ana’s Take: Dreamhunter and Dreamquake are the two Fantasy novels th WARNING, THIS REVIEW IS FOR BOTH BOOKS IN THE DUET. Part 1: The Spoiler-Free Review Ana’s Take: Dreamhunter and Dreamquake are the two Fantasy novels that form the Dreamhunter Duet – they have been originally published separately but are effectively one story in two parts, hence this combined review. The two books were actually published in Australia as one omnibus edition called The Invisible Road. The Dreamhunter Duet is set Southland, an alternate version of a New Zealand that has been colonised by 5 migrating families (some of them descended from Bible’s Lazarus). It features a story about families, about cousins, about lovers, and about friends. It is also a story about power and politics and dreams. Above all, it is a story about a place. The Place. The Place is a fantastical realm that appeared suddenly a few years back and where a few specific people (dreamhunters) can travel into to capture dreams. In terms of worldbuilding, there is a whole industry that has been built around The Place: dreamhunters capture dreams and then broadcast them to a paying, sleeping audience that gets to live through amazing experiences . In Southland’s capital, the most famous broadcasting place is the Rainbow Opera where the biggest names in dreamhunting can make a fortune. But it all goes much beyond that: Dreamhunting also affects the future generations of this nation because young people dream of becoming hunters (so that they can improve their lives) and there are also questions of politics, economic progress, fame and fortune connected to The Place and its different uses (most of them benign, some of them horrifyingly nightmarish). Two of the most famous, most powerful Dreamhunter families are the Tiebolds and the Hames. Cousins-almost-sisters Rose Tiebold and Laura Hame are reaching the age where teenagers can try out dreamhunting and whereas Rose dreams about it and has built her entire life around it, Laura dreads the moment. Surprisingly, it is Laura who succeeds in becoming a Dreamhunter. The story follows the two girls as they deal with disappointments and successes and the narrative follows the two as well as the other members of their family. The overarching plot deals with a recurring dream that Laura’s father Tziga has and the mysterious uses he makes of it – all connected with a political plot. And this is only but the barest bones of the duet. I devoured it like there wasn’t tomorrow a few months ago and although I admit that the details are now slightly fuzzy, the overwhelming impression I still carry with me is how this was simultaneously uniquely remarkable and horrifyingly problematic. There is a LOT to unpack here: I think overall, in terms of worldbuilding, it is a remarkable fantasy and I have not read anything quite like it before. Everything in book 1 (and the vast majority of book 2) just blew my mind away in terms of the concept of the dreamhunting, the details of the world constructed around it, the combination with Judeo mythology (the early families who settled there, the Hame’s ability to create Golems ), the two girls’ friendship, how thematically speaking it all centres around free will and decision-making. I loved that the novel is constantly changing viewpoints and that we get to spend time with the adults and see their relationship with each other. I enjoyed the sweet romance between Laura and the young Sandy and above all I LOVED Rose, her forthrightness and the way she struggles to find meaning in the life that she has to build after her dreams of dreamhunting have been destroyed. I also loved the way that gender roles are played and how Laura’s uncle (Rose’s father) is the central maternal figure of the story, for example. There is so much that is interesting and engaging with the topics of politics, power, family dynamics, gender roles, identity in these books. It all sounds awesome, right? BUT. The revelations at the end of the book and the ultimate resolution ruined the whole thing for me – my reaction is a blend of EXTREME personal dislike (I did not care for how things ended for the two girls and I had problems with a certain “vibe” I found in the narrative) and my questioning of the overall arc and general worldbuilding that make no sense after the final twist is revealed. More about those in the discussion in the second part of this review. I just wanted to end my part by saying this: I thought reading this was well worth it for the family dynamics and the impressive imagery. Despite my personal aversion for how things ended up, I still do not regret reading it. (In other words: these are the most amazing books I have ever hated. Or the most fucked up books I have ever loved. Or something.) Thea’s Take: I am both grateful and appalled that Ana put these books into my hands after reading them. I am grateful, because as Ana says, the Dreamhunter Duology is mindblowingly amazing when it comes to worldbuilding, basic premise, writing style, and imagination. The concept of The Place – a mysterious land to which only a select few can travel, and even more select few can capture and rebroadcast dreams – is fascinating. The idea of “dreamhunting” itself and the commercialization and institutionalization of certain dreams is also unique and freaking fantastic. The Place and Dreams are a mystery, and I love the questions posed especially by the first book. Why are dreams tied to certain locations? Why do they feature certain central figures (convicts, in particular)? What do the dreams mean and where are they coming from? Beyond the outstanding premise and world, I also loved the female characters in the duology, especially Rose (Laura…well, more on that in the spoiler section). Even though this is an alternate world set in the early 1900s, I love that Rose, her powerful dreamhunter mother, and even at certain points Laura (but really, more on that in a bit) are women that have agency and are empowered and make their own decisions – be it with friends, having sex for the first time, surviving a fire, and so on. I love the threads of friendship and of family in both of these books, especially when it comes to cousin Rose and her relationship with both her mother and cousin (who is really like a sister) Laura. ALL THAT SAID – I agree with Ana in that there are some major, un-overlook-able problems with the book. I personally did not care for the ending – scratch that. I personally hated the ending of the book. While everything is nicely resolved and all the questions are answered (about dreams, The Place, Laura’s EXTRA SPECIAL SPECIALNESS), I resented the resolution and its implications. I hated the way that the girls’ storylines are tied up; I especially abhorred the romantic elements to this story so far as Rose and Laura are concerned. Especially Laura (whose character is basically ruined for me completely). Finally, this also bothers me deeply: the fact that this takes place in a kinda-sorta version of New Zealand, but a New Zealand that has been completely erased of its Maori population and history (more on that below). Ultimately, I am torn when it comes to this duology. It’s undeniably brilliant, with an imaginative scope that is off the charts. It’s also incredibly infuriating, and left me feeling both creeped out and ripped off. Do I recommend it? Yes, because it is a duology that SHOULD be read, dissected, appreciated, and debated. (In other words: I understand why Ana told me to read these books – because this is the type of thing that needs to be discussed. With spoilers. Below.) Part 2: Book Discussion with ALL THE SPOILERS **READER BEWARE! Spoilers follow below. If you have not read the duology and do not wish to be spoiled, LOOK AWAY** After Thea finished the books, both of us frantically sent a flurry of emails back and forth and have condensed all our feelings into the following few key points. Ready? 1. It is revealed that the Place was created by Lazarus Hame, the future son of Laura and Sandy. This Future!Lazarus! has a terrible life and so he buries himself alive and accidentally creates a living thing – THE PLACE! – which broadcasts his dreams from the future into the past as an attempt to communicate with other Hames so they can… help him. Survive. Because The Place is a NOWN, and NOWN is required to protect Laura Hame and all those she cares for NO MATTER WHAT. We both loved this (TIME TRAVEL! THE PLACE IS A SAND GOLEM!) and hated this (it is all about Laura and Sandy and their son and Laura’s innate greatness and goodness???!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYYY! What a waste of a perfectly good premise!). (Not to mention, OF COURSE after Laura has sex with Sandy, he supposedly dies and then Laura discovers she is pregnant. This is one of our most irritating pet peeves in literature. NO.) 2. This creates a HUGE worldbuilding problem. If this is all about the Hame family and very specifically about their ability to create golems and shape clay/sand/dust/ash/food items into living things, HOW AND WHY can other people (non-Hames) become Dreamhunters and Rangers? How can they enter The Place at all? What about the other dreams (the Gate dream comes to mind)? There’s also the problem of paradoxes and fractured timelines. When Lazarus rises from the grave – where he has been buried alive but not dead for years and years – he is alive. And yet, his memories of his past are intrinsically tied to the existence of The Place in his childhood and his upbringing with his single mother (who is no longer a single mother). There’s a “many worlds” explanation that would allow this to work, but it feels a bit like a cheap cop-out. 3. In the end, the two extremely young female protagonists end up the book married and with children. Laura finds Lazarus and saves him and then learns that he is her son. This happens exactly at the point at which she realises she is pregnant with her supposedly dead boyfriend’s baby. But because she KNOWS Lazarus, she has no choice but to keep the baby. Our feelings about this are complicated: do we accept this as Laura’s CHOICE or do we think this is not a “choice” at all because it was imposed on her by the plot? Laura is also effectively stripped of ANY agency because she acts on things that she is TOLD to do by her father, by her family, and even by fate itself. The whole history of this world and the entire plot hinges on young Laura having baby Lazarus. It is the end-all and the origin of the whole story. (Except for the fact that this Lazarus is from an alternate timeline and might not matter at all if Laura keeps the baby?) Meanwhile, Rose marries Future!Lazarus! who is her cousin (we can even say that it is almost her nephew if you think how close she and Laura are, like sisters!!!) who is also a MUCH older man. Rose and her husband (Future!Lazarus!) live together with their daughter as well as Laura, Sandy and Baby!Lazarus!, whom Rose helps raise. It’s so fucked up we can’t even, especially considering the next point: 4. In the beginning of book Laura, in the footsteps of her father, creates a Golem, called NOWN. The relationship between Laura and NOWN is SO SO CREEPY. The creative impulse behind Laura’s creation of NOWN (and then giving him his free will) is undeniably because of her desire for a father figure to take care of her following Tziga – her real father – and his disappearance. She creates NOWN to make decisions for her and to love her like a father tending a child… and more. There is DEFINITELY a sexual vibe between Laura and NOWN, with her need for NOWN to “cherish” her and love her in a very un-fatherly kind of way. Basically, the duology as a whole has a really weird, really pervasive incestuous vibe going on that is never questioned at all. 5. Finally, a point that we find DEEPLY, INTENSELY problematic: erasing people from history. The story takes place in an alternate history New Zealand-inspired location. BUT in this world, there are no natives to New Zealand at all. The island was colonized by the five migrating families who arrive to find the island empty…and that’s it. So BASICALLY the Maori – the indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand, who made their way to the islands in 1250-1300 CE – have been ERASED FROM HISTORY. *forever weeping* And that is all we have to say about that. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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not set
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Jul 10, 2013
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Hardcover
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0316221171
| 9780316221177
| 0316221171
| 3.73
| 4,374
| May 28, 2013
| May 28, 2013
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did not like it
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Originally posted on The Book Smugglers Zoe is searching for a fresh start and a new job as travel book editor now that she moved back to New York City Originally posted on The Book Smugglers Zoe is searching for a fresh start and a new job as travel book editor now that she moved back to New York City after her last job ended badly (i.e. in tears, after she had an affair with her boss, who turned out to be married). She comes across a position as a managing editor for a new series of travel guides in a new publishing house. But every time she attempts to apply for the job she stumbles on several people telling her not to, including the owner Phil. As it just so happens, the publishing house is owned by a vampire, most of its employees are other assorted creatures and human Zoe simply doesn’t belong. Finding out that NY City has a subculture of monsters – the coterie – doesn’t really faze a desperate-for-a-job Zoe that much and desperate-for-a-managing-editor Phil hires her. Now she needs to learn everything she can about this new world and about the coterie so she can do her job properly. But everything turns south when she finds herself in the middle of a deadly fight for the soul of the city itself. There is so much silliness to Mur Lafferty’s debut novel The Shambling Guide to New York City that I ask myself: do I review this with any degree of seriousness? Yes, of course I review this seriously. Because even a light romp about a travel writer taking on a job at a shady publishing company in NY ran by a vampire and which caters to a (not so much) underground world needs to have internal logic, make sense and be competently written. I know that there might a fun book here somewhere. There is after all, humour t be had with zombies turned travel writers, right? But the execution of this story leaves a lot to be desired. It follows an extremely familiar story pattern following a Special Heroine that finds herself in a situation where she Must Learn and who is then Guided by a Wise Personage and everybody seems to “just know” that she is Special. It’s boring. And then we have the premise itself. I was expecting silly and camp (I mean, come on: travel guides…FOR THE UNDEAD! How awesome could this have been?) but I can’t get over how downright stupid the set-up is. Phil the Vampire decides to create a publishing house that caters for the coterie and sets up said company, rents an awesome office building, hires a bunch of employees (several writers, marketing guy, accountant, etc) but he still doesn’t have a managing editor or An editorial vision for his travel guides. So basically all these other employees are sitting around waiting for a managing editor. And because in the entire world of the coterie ( which, according to the world-building as put forth in the novel, seems to be extensive, densely populated and widespread) there is not a single person who could do this job. ONLY Zoe can be the managing editor, even though she is a human who knows absolutely nothing – zero, nada – about the world she is hired to write about. This is, quite frankly, the WORST business decision in the history of business decisions ever (and please don’t tell me this is how the publishing world works. My illusions will collapse like a house of cards at my feet). What this premise does do is to force the story to move a certain way: even after this decision is made Phil still refuses to tell Zoe the things about the coterie she needs to know to do her job because “vampires are secretive”. So Zoe takes upon herself to learn. Cue endless sections of info-dump, ridiculous enigmatic conversations, convenient connections between characters and set-ups in which Zoe comes across fae, goddesses, incubi, etc and does her “research”, thereby also informing the reader about the coterie and justifying the book. All building up to an ending that was extremely rushed, with a lot of hazy action sequences and an end-of-the-world event that felt incredibly small and localised. At the end of the day everything in here felt extremely contrived and forced to me. The story and characters were not interesting or vivid enough to allow me to get pass any of these problems in order to have fun reading The Shambling Guide to New York City. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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not set
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Jun 17, 2013
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Paperback
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0316216852
| 9780316216852
| 0316216852
| 3.54
| 52,510
| Apr 15, 2013
| Jun 04, 2013
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it was ok
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Original review posted on The Book Smugglers Lauren Beukes has been on my radar for a while but I never felt inclined to pick her books until l The Shi Original review posted on The Book Smugglers Lauren Beukes has been on my radar for a while but I never felt inclined to pick her books until l The Shining Girls came along with its promising conceit: Science Fiction meets Thriller in a story featuring a time-travelling serial killer and his one surviving victim looking for revenge. In Depression-era Chicago, Harper Curtis walks into The House to find a dead body in the hallway and a room full of mementos from dead girls. Their murders, actions he has yet to commit. Those “shining girls” – bright young things, full of potential – call to him and The House obliges by opening its door to other times. And so Harper’s quest through time begins from the 30s to the 90s, alternating decades, back and forth as he stalks girls from their childhood to the moment he kills them. But then in 1989, one of his victims – Kirby Mazrachi – miraculously survives his savage attack and a few years later becomes an investigative journalist looking for clues about her attack which she suspects was not random. The narrative mostly alternates between the two characters’ viewpoint, the chapters shifting in time, with Harper’s obsessively stalking these shining girls and Kirby’s obsessively stalking Harper. It’s hard to say when exactly did The Shining Girls went off the rails for me. Perhaps in that awkward moment in which I realised that the time travel here was nothing but gimmick. Perhaps it is my own fault because I often think of time travel as Science Fiction rather than Fantasy but when it became clear that the speculative fiction element came with no explanation whatsoever beyond “it’s the House that does it”, I felt my interest in the story diminishing exponentially. Because at the end of the day, remove the time travel elements and the random “magic house” from this novel and all you have is just another thriller following a man viciously killing women in graphic detail. I am perhaps being slightly unfair with this snap judgement. One could consider the time travel element and the endless loop that Harper and Kirby seem to be stuck on to be essential to the story and to work as a metaphor for the inevitability of his psychopath tendencies to kill women. Harper’s story starts with his course already traced ahead of him, he knows the girls are to die because he has already killed them: He remembers doing it. He has no recollection of doing it. One of these things must be true. But is he a slave to his own desires and influence the House or does the House influence him? I am not sure how much I care to answer this considering that there is a Magic House in my Science Fiction Thriller. In fairness, I am not sure how much the story cares to answer this either and this undoubtedly adds to the horror of it all. As I write this review, it is becoming clear to me how much this bothered me though. I am not averse to elements of Fantasy in Science Fiction nor does it escape me the irony of calling time travel, science. This is obviously something that will affect readers differently. But moving on: the fact that Harper travels through time does add an interesting historical element as the author tries to convey Chicago through time. This works only to a certain extent because at times the level of historical research became too obvious rather than seamlessly, vividly integrated. The problem here is that how short a space Lauren Beukes has in which to convey this sense of time and place. When attempting to encapsulate for example, Chicago in the 50s and the raging paranoia of the period in a few paragraphs, this is the superficial-at-best result: For God’s sake, she’s not even a socialist, let alone a member of the Communist Party. But she’s artistic. And these days that’s bad enough. Because artists socialize with all kinds of people. Finally, it is important for me to note that the focus of The Shining Girls is on extremely graphic, bloody, gendered violence. Harper is killing women and more than that, he is killing women who “shine” and who are “burning with potential”. I am not entirely sure how I feel about this idea of “potential” – what does it mean exactly, why use it as a departure point and premise? This makes me especially wary when it becomes clear that only a few special women have this so-called potential (to the point where the killer has to find these few women through time). Not to mention that some of the girls shine no more and this constitutes a problem for Harper. For example, one of the women he is supposed to kill, doesn’t “shine” because she is a drug addict who lost interest in life – and then we are faced with another similarly uncomfortable idea: that of “squandered” potential. I feel there is a judgement being made here and one could argue that said judgement is being made by a psychopath but I do not think this was addressed or questioned in the narrative enough. Two things might counteract the above: Kirby and her brilliant, painful portrayal as a survivor (rather than victim) and the author’s attempts to give voice to each victim – even if very briefly and often stereotypically – which might be just enough to make them more than passing female bodies. Might. Maybe. The Shining Girls is a not entirely successful genre blend (Horror, Historical, Fantasy and Thriller) but is a perfect example of the disconnect that sometimes happen between the reading and the reviewing. I devoured it in one sitting, turning the pages to see what would happen next. I sat down to write about it and it turned into something else altogether. ...more |
Notes are private!
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Apr 19, 2013
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Apr 23, 2013
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Apr 19, 2013
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Hardcover
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0307975983
| 9780307975980
| 0307975983
| 3.47
| 6,130
| Mar 06, 2013
| Mar 12, 2013
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did not like it
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(This was supposed to be a joint review but Thea refused to finish the book. Yes. It is that bad.) After the death of her father, Northern Sophie Pethe (This was supposed to be a joint review but Thea refused to finish the book. Yes. It is that bad.) After the death of her father, Northern Sophie Petheram receives an invitation to go live with her godfather, the mysterious Monsieur Bernard de Cressac, in his plantation in Mississippi. Sophie has always longed for a more comfortable life and for spending more time with her godfather – whom she has always admired in a secretive, furtive way – and is at first, elated at the prospect. And to begin with, all goes well. Her godfather is charming and attentive (as well as extremely attractive), regaling her with his stories of the Exotic Orient and her surroundings are luxurious and decadent. But soon she starts to realise that this new life is not perfect. Her guardian allows her very little freedom and is prone to dangerous, violent mood swings. She is also not really comfortable with the way he treats his slaves or that he even has slaves at all. Then Sophie learns of his past wives – all of whom have died tragically, all of whom have bronze hair as her own – and realises that something much more horrific is afoot and that her own life might be in danger. Strands of Bronze and Gold is a gothic retelling of the Bluebeard fairy tale transported to a pre- Civil War America. I was really intrigued about this from the get go and for its possibilities. Bluebeard is a fairytale that is extremely misogynist and sexist – one its motifs is the question of the “danger” of female curiosity, a question that fits into victim-blaming. It is also a fairytale with strong European roots. As such, when reading this, I wanted to be able to see the issue of sexism addressed and to understand the author’s choice of moving this to Mississippi pre- Civil War. This is not a setting that can be taken lightly and above all, I wanted to see how the author dealt with the issue of slavery in this setting. Unfortunately all of it was hugely disappointing. Strands of Bronze and Gold has an unhurried developed story that fits not only with the gothic atmosphere of danger and mystery but also with the issue of Sophie’s slow transformation from extremely naïve and trusting to a strong-willed heroine who knows how to deal with her godfather’s mood swings strategically. This is a really interesting transformation in terms of how it addresses how Sophie – in a context of supposed powerlessness – can think strategically and empower herself by doing so. So, in a way, the topic of sexism is somewhat addressed here and I appreciated how Sophie was able to save herself in the end. The topic of female curiously being at fault for the wives’ fate is also removed here: Monsieur Bernard de Cressac is a dangerous psychopath and wholly to blame for the happenings in the book. That said Sophie’s transformation is not really developed that well. For a story that is so slowly developed, the actual character’s arc happens suddenly and with awkward transitions. That is all the more clear when Sophie falls in love at first sight with another man – one minute they meet, the next they are in love. Although I appreciated the attempt at portraying Sophie’s story as one of self-empowerment, I wasn’t wholly convinced by how this happened. My main issue with the book though is the pre Civil-War Mississippi plantation setting and how this was incorporated into the story. This was bad; this was really, REALLY BAD. The book is populated with a series of POC characters, some of them house slaves, some of them cotton field ones and there is one freed slave as well. The problem is, these characters are not characters on their own and are there in relation to the white characters. Sophie for example is the Good Abolitionist, who wants to help the slaves. As such she sympathises, pities them and wants to help them. Which: fair enough. But she is so completely clueless about her privilege it is not even funny. At one point she sees slaves labouring in the cotton fields and pities them for their shabby clothes. She sees a pair of slaves who are in love and cannot get married and pities HERSELF for not having a love of her own. Priorities: she has them (not). And this could have served as an astute observation about Sophie’s naivety, except this is not questioned and only serves to illustrate Sophie’s forward-thinking and goodness. The same way that the ill treatment of the slaves serves only to illustrate the villain’s villainy. I am not kidding, there is EVEN a Magical Negro: a freed slave who lives in the woods and who is happy, wise and helps Sophie in feeling less lonely. There is also definitely a strand of White-Saviour approach by showing the work of Good White People helping with the Underground Railroad (but without mentioning the important work and support from freed, escaped slaves in the same). And before anyone says something about how this is a historical novel and that the portrayal of Sophie and of slavery is historically accurate, allow me to reinforce the fact that there is a HUGE difference between writing a historically accurate character (whatever that might mean) and writing a story that does not challenge/question these views in the narrative itself. In that sense, Strands of Bronze and Gold is not doing anyone a service by portraying slavery as a Bad Thing from the point of view White Saviours and by portraying POC characters as offensive stereotypes. This is all very problematic to say the least and tainted the whole book for me. I can not in good conscience recommend this book at all – in fact, I recommend you to stay far, far away from it. ...more |
Notes are private!
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Mar 09, 2013
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not set
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Mar 09, 2013
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Hardcover
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039925692X
| 9780399256929
| 039925692X
| 4.04
| 66,878
| Feb 12, 2013
| Feb 12, 2013
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it was ok
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Review posted originally at The Book Smugglers Warning: Out of the Easy is a historical novel set in New Orleans. In this review I refer to sex workers Review posted originally at The Book Smugglers Warning: Out of the Easy is a historical novel set in New Orleans. In this review I refer to sex workers as “prostitutes” and “whores” just as in the book. Warning: there are some spoilers in this review. Review: Ruta Septety’s Out of the Easy is the author’s sophomore novel after the highly acclaimed Between Shades of Grey. It’s a historical novel, set in the 50s in New Orleans, featuring teenager Josie Moraine whose first person morose, contemplative narrative is the book’s best feature alongside its historical framing. The story follows Josie’s life in the French Quarter of New Orleans and her attempt to create a new life for herself, hopefully in a college over at the East, where nobody knows who she is. She is the daughter of a prostitute, and has suffered the stigma of prostitution her whole life: the whispers, the snickers, the pitying, the expectation she would turn up just like her mother follows wherever she goes. Even her name – Josie – is a prostitute’s name, her mother choosing it after a madam from her own youth. Josie’s life is hard – working two jobs just to be able to maintain herself and to save money to go away to college. She is an assistant at a bookstore where she works with fellow booklover, friend and potential love interest Patrick. Patrick’s father Charlie is Josie’s father figure, supportive and friendly and whose declining mental health has been a great source of stress and sadness for Josie. She is also a cleaner at one of New Orleans’ biggest brothels, the one belonging to Madam Willie, where her mother works. She is there every morning to clean up after the long hours of work and to work as an assistant to Willie. It also doesn’t help that her mother is a terrible person, an absent mother and a thief. To make things worse, a wealthy tourist gets killed after visiting Josie’s bookstore – and the mystery of this death might be linked to her mother’s recent activities. This is the very basic summary of the book – the starting point for a story that intertwines different strands – all of which contributing to the main push to Josie’s departure from New Orleans. There is something about Out of the Easy that made me incredibly uneasy – I have been thinking about why it was so since I finished reading it and I think it might have to do with the focus and frame of the story. There is a lot of disconnect between what the book tells me and what the story shows me. It makes me uneasy that the stigma, prejudice and difficulty of prostitution is examined from the point of view of a character who is not a prostitute. It makes me uneasy because of how this is framed. Please bear with me as I break down the main conflicting points: The main character and narrator, is a prostitute’s daughter who works at a brothel as a cleaner. This brothel is one of the biggest ones in Nola and its madam a force to be reckoned with publicly and privately – the madam runs the brothel in a way that makes it a safe, healthy place for her girls, which is awesome. All the prostitutes there are portrayed as well-adjusted and moderately happy. You could also say they are all prostitutes with a heart of gold who have more of less have “adopted” the main character. In fact, the madam is Josie’s surrogate mother, friend, protector and confidant. Her actual mother is an Evil Whore and a Gold Digger. All of these women – apart from her mother – worry about Josie, want to protect her reputation and hope she will not become a prostitute – because they want better for her. Everybody thinks she is too good to be a prostitute and there is a great moment of tension in the novel where the main character is driven to almost become one because she needs money urgently but eventually she doesn’t do it and as such is shown as being morally superior. So there is this clash between what the novel tells me (prostitution = not a good life; better not live it) and what it shows me (actual prostitutes in the novel = well-adjusted, moderately happy) and this clash could have been interesting as a complex portrayal of prostitution had it not been for the fact that this is only explored in a divided way – this is not a good life for JOSIE but hey, it is a good life for everybody else because what? They are suited to it? They are not as good as Josie? This is all the more obvious if one thinks at how there is a question of purity that is woven in the story. Although Josie is smart and capable of taking care of herself, she is also extremely naïve – but only when the text expected her to be. She barely registers the interest from her two suitors and when she kisses them, there is barely any focus on how she feels about it. But then she does immediately register when older men leer or touch her. She is squeaky clean in her connections to the people she might love but it’s almost as though sex is established as a bad thing and I don’t think this is actually addressed at all. And although I appreciate the fact that Josie as a character might think of sex as bad thing because of how she might connect it to prostitution, I would have wanted to see this actually explored in meaningful ways. This aspect is insidious, subtly presence in the narrative but definitely there. I am asked to sympathise and understand the plight of someone who is not a prostitute at the same time that it shows me the prostitutes of the novel as living an almost glamorous life. There is social stigma and prejudice but only from the perspective of someone who is not an actual prostitute. I find this really troubling. I had hoped that the social stigma, sexism and patriarchy that is present in Josie’s life to have been examined in a wider context – how does it affect the people that actually live that life? That said, it is very interesting that the main focus here is how Josie’s life is terrible because of said stigma. BUT even though she repeats that continuously, we see very little of her actual troubles with said stigma. Instead, what we do see is how she has this incredible support system in which the prostitutes, the madam, the madam’s employees, as well as a myriad of friends in the French Quarter and two love interests all love and protect her. All the time. Even the narrative is extremely supportive of Josie: in the end, the madam dies, leaving Josie well-off and therefore solving all of her immediate problems magically. I also question how the problem of class is explored here – New Orleans is a setting rife for this exploration with the social and economic divides between those in the French Quarter and those Uptown. However, this clash, this difference, is explored only in superficial, stereotypical ways: the rich are only pretending to be happy with the books they don’t read and the pianos they don’t play. It’s all a façade that hides horrible people: “Let me tell you something ’bout these rich Uptown folk,” said Cokie. “They got everything that money can buy, their bank accounts are fat, but they ain’t happy. They ain’t ever gone be happy. You know why? They soul broke. And money can’t fix that, no sir.” Meanwhile, the lives of the bohemians, intellectuals, criminals in the French Quarter, despite all the difficulty, are much richer, authentic, better. I have no patience for this simplistic approach. The book does do a good job at showing another side of prostitution and I appreciated how the prostitutes weren’t tragic figures. I do think there is merit to Josie’s story and experience as the daughter of a prostitute. I just feel it is disingenuous how this story was explored and I am afraid this overshadowed any and all the positives. Basically, I really don’t know what this book is attempting to do here but I do feel that this story lacks honesty in the development of the story. In some ways it is a book that lacks nuance – you know, a few shades of grey would have done it tons of good. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Mar 09, 2013
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not set
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Mar 09, 2013
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Hardcover
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0763631620
| 9780763631628
| 0763631620
| 4.03
| 27,082
| Jan 01, 2002
| Mar 14, 2006
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it was ok
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Originally reviewed on The Book Smugglers Ana’s take: I’d seen The Naming around Goodreads and was intrigued by it but not enough to actually pick it up Originally reviewed on The Book Smugglers Ana’s take: I’d seen The Naming around Goodreads and was intrigued by it but not enough to actually pick it up. I was glad when this showed up in the OSW recommendations. The Naming was a weird book for me to read. It had tons of potential: tropes and scenarios I am familiar and comfortable with plus the fact that the main character was a girl (when often boys happen to be Chosen Ones). But I had a really hard time with the book because it was so boring and I just couldn’t get into it exactly because it was so familiar to the point of being derivative. There were things that could be considered “subverting” these familiar tropes (more on that later) but they were perhaps too minor or too superficial to mean anything of substance. That said, The Naming was an important read for me because it served to highlight and reinforce what I kind of already knew: how tired I am of the Chosen One trope, how much I dislike overly descriptive books and how I am might be over Epic Fantasy for now. Thea’s Take: Like Ana, I’ve had my eye on The Naming for a while now. This is a book I frequently see lurking on shelves at my local bookstores and across the interwebs, and until recently, it has been one of those pick-it-up-read-the-blurb-put-it-back kind of books (love the cover and title, but there was never anything particularly OOMPH-y about the book that compelled me to buy it in the past). When this book surfaced on our OSW readalong poll list, I was thrilled because finally I had a reason to get into the Pellinor series. And…I’m a little ambivalent when it comes to the actual book. I enjoyed certain aspects of the novel (and the story, when it is moving along and not just focused on the mind-numbingly mundane minutia of walking through the countryside and eating biscuits and berries and such). And, like Ana, I appreciate that the book attempts to subvert familiar tropes by instituting an unapologetic female character as its heroine and the Chosen One Who Will Save The Land From The DARK. That said, the book is needlessly protracted, the main character is (obviously) unparalleled in terms of abilities and power, and the story is a little bit reductive and familiar. The Naming isn’t a bad book – but it’s not a particularly memorable one, either. Discussion Questions 1. Clearly, THE NAMING has some familiar, old school fantasy influences – which influences were the most apparent to you? Did this heavy reliance on traditional fantasy work in your opinion? Ana: It’s funny how I saw so many influences from favourite books (Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings the most obvious one) but those left me cold here. I think this book was far too derivative, the world-building far too close to that of Tolkien (I mean, there is even an honest-to-Goddess Galadriel replica) for me to be able to enjoy it. The writing style, the long pieces of description and the “let’s walk all the way to Mordor” all reminded me of LoTR. It actually made me seriously wonder if I would be able to read (and enjoy) LoTR if I attempted a re-read now and I suspect the answer would be “no”. Thea: There’s a fine line between homage and mimicry, and while The Naming has a few interesting ideas in terms of worldbuilding, the heavy Tolkien influences (and a little bit of GRRM, Susan Cooper, and J.K. Rowling) did not work to the book’s credit. The Naming borrows too heavily from its influences and works too closely to these older classic motifs, framing this book as a blandly predictable LOTR/Dark is Rising/Harry Potter rehash. There’s the entrenched and increasingly corrupt fellowship of Bards that refuse to Read the Signs that the Dark is Rising; there’s the downtrodden, orphaned girl who does not understand the Great Power she wields or her illustrious past and destiny. And to Ana’s point, not only is there a Galadriel figure in The Naming, but there are also “dark bards” called Hulls and an old evil king that has become a paradigm of evil (named Sardor). There’s an honest to goodness sorcerer who has turned to the Dark and resurrected the Evil. There’s even an analog of Rivendell hidden deep in the forgotten places of this particular magical world. And, at one point, someone actually says “Winter is coming.” 2. In the same vein, let’s talk fantasy tropes. THE NAMING employs the old Chosen One standby – one foretold to staunch the rising darkness and Save The Land. Discuss the tropes in this book – what worked? What didn’t? Are you a fan? Ana: Well, there is not only the Chosen One trope, but also its ultra familiar packaging – i.e. the Chosen One who is an Orphan and a slave who never knew or suspected her background. I think that my apathy toward the novel was somewhat mitigated because the Chosen One happens to be a girl here. The potential was immense especially considering how there were attempts to talk about it within the story. Maerad is always questioning her role as a Chosen One as well as her background. One of the few positives was how the enemies of the Chosen One completely overlooked Maerad because to their minds the prophecy could not be about a girl. So in a way, the fact that the main character is a girl is not an accident – I feel there is definitely a feminist point being made here and I wonder if this aspect will be more developed in further installments. That said: is the fact that the Chosen One is a girl subversive enough to compensate for the fact that she is still a Special Ultra Powerful Person who doesn’t even have to learn to use her Ultra Special Powers? I don’t think so. It seems then that I am not a fan. Thea: You know, I’m not intrinsically opposed to the Chosen One trope. Like most fantasy standbys, when it is done well, this trope is a beautiful thing (see everything from Harry Potter to Star Wars). Unfortunately, The Naming doesn’t really do enough with the tropes it employs to shake the oppressive mantle of formulaic blandness. Like Ana says, the fact that Maerad is a young woman and the Chosen One is, on its face, a good thing. The fact that Maerad questions herself, her destiny, and her abilities is also a very cool thing – not to mention the fact that she is growing up from child to woman (gets her period for the first time, struggles with desire/attraction) is also an interesting and different dynamic than the usual male Heroes that play this role in epic fantasy. Of course, this is exacerbated by the fact that Maerad is not just the Chosen One, BUT she possesses unparalleled magical powers, she has the sweetest most beautiful singing voice and bardic abilities, she is effortlessly beautiful and everyone (except those that are Evil) loves her instantly. She learns how to read in a single lesson, she thwarts unbeatable evil with a single phrase, and… well, you get the picture. THIS to me is the most irritating part of the book. I like Maerad as a considerate, questioning, intelligent heroine (which humanizes her character), but I hate the fact that she is so exceptionally powerful and perfect (which de-humanizes her character and reduces her to a stock character). 3. Let’s talk about worldbuilding: this first book of Pellinor introduces a new fantasy world in the Western European paradigm, with a system of Bards and the threat of the Dark (dark bards called Hulls, and fearful creatures called wers, and Wights). What are your thoughts on the world of Annar? Well developed or underdeveloped? Memorable or forgettable? Ana: I guess the answer is “Well developed” but “forgettable.” It’s well developed in the way that it well thought-through: the author obviously spent time creating her own mythos, her own world (considering the appendixes as well as the introduction). But again, it is so derivative and familiar and concerned about descriptions of random things and scenery that it ends up being forgettable. At least, that’s how I felt about it. Thea: I love the idea of a society of magical Bards and the power of music and stories in The Naming and this fantastical world. The idea of that the world of Annar has different cultures and competing schools of Barding is a little Harry Potterish, but in a good way. I also like the idea of a young person coming into their power by discovering “The Speech” – that is, usually by conversing with animals (again, Harry Potter, anyone?). That said, all of these different worldbuilding nuances are lost in a bloated story and the more derivative, familiar aspects of the book. 4. On the character front, how does Maerad stack up as a heroine? How about Cadvan, her teacher and companion? What other characters did you like or not like in THE NAMING? Ana: I am conflicted on this point: I kind of liked Maerad but because the writing or the execution of the story didn’t appeal to me, she ended up being rather non-descript. Her early dynamics with Cadvan when the two first meet almost drove me up the wall especially when he was horrible to her, telling her to “catch up” and I just wanted to punch him because the girl spent her life to that point as a prisoner/slave without ever knowing who she was and the potential for magic she had. I read this one week ago and can barely remember any other memorable character and that’s a problem in itself. Thea: When you separate Maerad from her awesome abilities and powers, I appreciate her more as a heroine. She has a sharp, inquisitive mind, and I like that she questions the people around her and her own role in this great future of saving the land and whatnot. I also appreciate the fact that for all Maerad’s unparalleled strengths and uniqueness, she’s not a badass warrior and struggles with violence. I generally liked the supporting characters in this book, although they all seem to fall into helpful generous benefactor roles – the motherly Sylvia and smitten scholar Dernhil fall firmly into this category. The tortured Cadvan is an interesting mentor to Maerad – I do like that others question their relationship, and that you never really know what Cadvan is thinking (although his frequent patriarchal exasperation with Maerad is annoying, especially in the early chapters). AND of course, there is the late addition of the rascally Hem as a character – whom I enjoyed, even if his introduction to the story felt AGAIN very “All the Stars are Aligning as the Prophecy Foretold.” What is your favorite thing from this book? What weren’t you enthusiastic about? And, most importantly, will you continue with the series? Ana: Hummm…I am sorry to say I was not enthusiastic about anything. I was bored out of my mind and do not plan on reading the series any further. I do have one last question I want to throw out there: would you consider The Naming a good introduction to Epic Fantasy to younger readers? Are there good enough aspects of the novel that would appeal to those who haven’t read a lot of Epic Fantasy yet? Thea: The strongest parts of the book, to me, lie with Maerad’s characterization and the worldbuilding – although these elements are not without significant drawbacks (Maerad’s uniqueness, the world’s utter familiarity). There was one particular aspect of the book that bothered me that we haven’t discussed here – that is, there were parts of the book where the regular western fantasy speech would turn into crazy archaic speech, complete with “thee”s, “thou”s, and so on. (Talk about overkill and an entirely jarring experience.) I think on the whole, I’m feeling a little more charitable towards The Naming than Ana, but I do think the book suffered from the most fatal of flaws: banality. This book is entirely too similar to other fantasy books that did it first and did it better. As I said before, this isn’t a bad book. It’s just not a particularly memorable one, either. I probably won’t be reading the next book in the series (unless someone can tell me that it gets REALLY GOOD). Rating: Ana: 5 – Meh Thea: 5 – Meh, but leaning towards a 6. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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not set
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Mar 07, 2013
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Paperback
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0316068683
| 9780316068680
| 0316068683
| 3.64
| 20,291
| Jun 07, 2010
| Jun 07, 2010
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did not like it
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Originally reviewed on The Book Smugglers back in 2010 (a few months later this review caused a shitstorm online and you can read about it here). Ana’ Originally reviewed on The Book Smugglers back in 2010 (a few months later this review caused a shitstorm online and you can read about it here). Ana’s take: Listen. I could tell you that for the first pages of this book I was completely engrossed in the story. How could I not? I mean, a dark, violent even, retelling of Red Riding Hood in which two sisters are the hunters who kill the wolves? I am in. It helps that the first pages were very gripping: back in the past when the kids lived with their grandmother and were attacked by a passing werewolf and Scarlett, the oldest sister, protects the younger Rosie almost to her own death losing an eye in the fight and becoming scarred for life. Then, as teenagers they fall in the roles that they have taken for themselves that day: Scarlett, the protector, Rosie the protégée – both equally fierce Hunters but with a striking difference. Scarlett sees nothing but the hunt, Rosie wants something else for her life. I could tell you that I like the prose. But also that the tale and the alternating chapters between the two sisters get repetitive very soon. I could tell you that when the next door neighbour, a woodsman-hunter named Silas comes back to town that I knew Rosie would fall for him and that their story was actually quite sweet. I could definitely tell you that part of what makes me like the book to begin with is the fact that making the two girls the ones who go after the werewolves to kill them is rather an empowering take on the original tale. I could tell you all that. But what I really want to tell you is: when I hit page 108 (of the ARC) I went nuts. You see, it is part of this retelling that the werewolves are predators who are after young, pretty girls. As part of their hunting routine, Rosie will dress up, put on make-up and perfume (because she usually doesn’t do that as she is a “natural beauty”). Obviously, Scarlett, being the ugly, scarred sister, just sits back to attack when Rosie has played the role of prey. So, page 108. Scarlett is outside a nightclub observing the girls in the queue to get in: "They’re adorned in glittery green rhinestones, shimmery turquoise and aquamarine powders streaked across their eyelids. Dragonfly girls. Their hair is all the same, long and streaked, spiralling down their backs to where the tiny strings holding their tops on are knotted tightly. Their skin glows under the neon lights – amber, ebony, cream – like shined metal, flawless and smooth. I press harder against the crumbly brick wall behind me, tugging my crimson cloak closer to my body. The scars on my shoulders show through fabric when I pull the cloak tight. Bumpy red hills in perfectly spaced lines. The Dragonflies laugh, sweet, and bubbly, and I groan in exasperation. They toss their hair, stretch their legs, sway their hips, bat their eyes at the club’s bouncer, everything about them luring the Fenris. Inviting danger like some baby animal bleating its fool head off. Look at me, see how I dance, did you notice my hair, look again, desire me, I am perfect. Stupid, stupid Dragonflies. Here I am, saving your lives, bitten and scarred and wounded for you, and you don’t even know it. I should let the Fenris have one of you. No, I didn’t mean that. I sigh and walk to the other side of the brick wall, letting my fingers tangle in the thick ivy. It’s dark on this side, shadowed from the neon lights of the street. I breathe slowly, watching the tree limbs sway, backlit by the lights of skyscrapers. Of course I didn’t mean it. Ignorance is no reason to die. They can’t help what they are, still happily unaware inside a cave of fake shadows. They exist in a world that’s beautiful normal, where people have jobs and dreams that don’t involve a hatcher. My world is parallel universe to their – the same sights, same people, same city, yet the Fenris lurk, the evil creeps, the knowledge undeniably exists. If I hadn’t been thrown into this world, I could just as easily have been a Dragonfly." I felt extremely uncomfortable with this passage, but as much as this is some serious twisted thinking, I can understand Scarlett feeling this way. She is an angry character, full of regret, jealousy – and being scarred and ugly does get to her (seeing as how she keeps going on and on about it). So, the text above is in keeping with this character. BUT Two lines down and Silas joins her as she observes him: " His eyes narrow in something between disgust and intrigue, as though he’s not certain if he likes looking at them or not. I want to comment, but I stay quiet. Somehow it feels important to wait for his reaction. Silas finally turns to look at me in the shadows. “It’s like they’re trying to be eaten, isn’t it? he asks pointedly. “Can I tell you how glad I am that and Rosie aren’t like them?” “No kidding.” I grin, relieved. “Rosie could be if she wanted, though. She’s beautiful like they are.” “Beauty has nothing to do with it. Rosie could never be one of them. Do you really think they’d dress and act like that if they knew it was drawing wolves toward them?”" No. NO. NO. NO. NO. JUST NO. By then, I was beyond uncomfortable, I was downright angry. The meta is thus: the girls should know better. If they knew better, they would change their behaviour and would not be attacked. This is what I read. But this is not what I should be reading. NEVER, EVER blame the victims. The blame always, always lies with the criminal (or predator). And just like that I am done with the book. Because I can’t respect the characters who think like this, because I lost respect for their motivation for being hunters (it’s not about REALLY about protecting the girls is it? It is almost about proving a point) and if I can’t relate with their plight then the book is nothing to me. Because the bottom line is this: the book empowers women yes, but ONLY certain types of girls, not all of them. And I am sick and tired of books that associate girls that are self-confident and beautiful with being shallow and superficial and deserving of bad things happening to them. SICK AND TIRED. That is not ok. I did read till the bitter end in the hopes that another character would come in and say: “yo, stewpid, GET A GRIP” but alas, no such thing has happened. I can’t even be bothered to rate this book. I will only say: FAIL Thea’s Take: Clearly, Ana feels VERY strongly about this book, especially about the excerpt above. Now, I’ll admit that when I first read this passage, I didn’t immediately see what Ana picked up on. I tend to get annoyed with flitty girls in general, and Scarlett’s anger at the “dragonflies” seems well-founded and in line with her character, regardless of whether I liked her character or not. As a scarred, bitter young woman dedicated to destroying all Fenris at any cost, this sort of thought process makes perfect sense for someone like Scarlett. But then, after Ana pointed out the next section, it made me think about the overall message…and I stand firmly with Ana. Enraged. Just because a girl is pretty, and likes to look pretty; just because a girl goes out to the club in revealing clothes; just because a girl likes the attention that comes with being young and attractive, this DOES NOT MEAN she is stupid, or a whore, or fucking “asking for it” (pardon my French, but this is a disgusting mindset and pisses me off to no end). It is frustrating – no, infuriating – beyond belief that the women in Sisters Red are so stereotyped and marginalized. Don’t get me wrong – I love warrior women/strong women/badass fighter women, as much as the next person. But this gross generalization that girls that go out to have fun and be noticed are somehow billions of times inferior to their too-tough-to-look-pretty (but OF COURSE are effortlessly gorgeous *eyes rolling*) counterparts? Nu-uh. Not cool. Now, you might be telling yourself, ‘well, these two seem to be taking a single passage a bit far’ or something to that end. Well, folks, unfortunately Sisters Red has a whole lot of other problems too. 1: The characters are mind-numbingly repetitive and boring. Initially, I found a lot to like with Sisters Red. The opening scene with Grandma valiantly holding off the big bad wolf to save the children, and then Scarlett’s desperate last stand to save Rosie, is EPIC. I loved that Scarlett is abrasive and tough, that she’s missing an eye and is both terrified of the wolves, yet completely in love with the hunt. I love that Rosie is a different person – that she cannot remember the past too clearly, and that she clearly loves Lett, but needs to grow to be her own person. BUT. All of this? All this promising characterization is exhausted in the first thirty or so pages of the book. From then on it is more of. the. same. Scarlett gets mad at Rosie for being careless. Scarlett goes hunting for Fenris. Scarlett gets mad again and wallows in her pit of eternal self-suffering. Meanwhile, Rosie wants to be taken seriously (and thinks Silas is freaking HAWT). But she wants to be taken seriously. She tries to make peace with Scarlett (and Silas is HAWT). And so on and so forth. Things get pretty dull, pretty quickly. These characters never felt real to me – more like your standard cardboard stand-ins. (Just because characters are “troubled” doesn’t immediately mean they are well-developed. SHOW me. Don’t keep TELLING me.) 2: The “Romance” is the same predictable uninspired tripe. From the second Rosie sees Silas, and vice versa, it’s all “he looks different, his jaw is so angular and manly!” and “she looks different, all ‘grown up’ and beautiful!” (I’m paraphrasing of course). To be honest, I’m sick of it. Could this book just have been about the sisters without one of them needing the catalyst of falling in love with the studly boy next door? ARGH. Of course, this could just be me and how burned out I am with YA paranormal romance. Lots of people love this stuff. I, unfortunately, am at the end of my rope. 3: The hunting element of the story is STUPID. *Caps lock engaged* WHY THE HELL WOULD THESE SISTERS BE HUNTING WITH HATCHETS AS OPPOSED TO…I don’t know…GUNS?!??? If Scarlett’s true ambition is to take out every single “Fenris” on the planet, wouldn’t it make sense to take out a bunch of them with a semi-automatic weapon, as opposed to the good ol’ woodsman hatchet technique? And while scampering around in a blood red cloak is awesome and all, this book doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The story takes place in MODERN DAY. The red riding hood cloaks, while they go great with the idea of the story, aren’t exactly…congruous with the time period. (Not to mention, you’d think the stupid wolves would remember two chicks – one with an eyepatch – hunting around not-so-incognito in bright red cloaks) Also, in my opinion the term “Fenris” is stupid. Is it plural? Singular? Yeah, yeah, I get that it derives from Fenrir – but “Fenris” just looks stupid and forced to me. If you’re going with Norse mythology, stick with the root name. (That is, if you’re not going with the more familiar “werewolf” terminology, which doesn’t make sense in the first place given how much more prevalent “werewolf” is in modern vernacular!) These were my issues with Sisters Red – which arose long before the club scene – and they were enough to make me put down the book. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 12, 2013
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not set
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Feb 12, 2013
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Hardcover
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1599909405
| 9781599909400
| 1599909405
| 3.54
| 4,173
| Feb 05, 2013
| Feb 12, 2013
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did not like it
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Original review posted on The Book Smugglers WARNING: this review contains spoilers as well as the occasional CAPS LOCK OF FURY AND FRUSTRATION. You ha Original review posted on The Book Smugglers WARNING: this review contains spoilers as well as the occasional CAPS LOCK OF FURY AND FRUSTRATION. You have been warned! Here, let me start by spoiling this review for you by cutting to the chase: Dance of Shadows is spectacularly bad. It does actually have a promising premise that mixes the strenuous world of Ballet and a supernatural mystery involving disappearing prima ballerinas as well as demons. Oh premise, you could have been so much fun had you been proficiently handled. Alas, no. The execution is so poor, it takes that premise and turns into a story that is really and truly laughable in the end. I was reading Dance of Shadows and thinking about writing as craft – you know, that thing where skill meets care? I was dismayed at the utter lack of said craft when it came to Dance of Shadows. The book opens with a prologue, in which a ballerina named Chloe dances a ballet number and then is taken over by something and disappearing – it is pretty obvious something supernatural happened. Cut to the actual story as it begins at the New York Ballet Academy, the most prestigious Ballet School in the country, where 15-year-old Vanessa Adler is about to start her studies. She is a natural-born dancer with an incredibly powerful talent, one that requires little work. When Vanessa is dancing is like she loses herself to the dance and the real world disappears. But she doesn’t really like dancing, not really. The only reason why she is going to NYBA is to find out what happened to her sister Margaret who attended the school before disappearing three years before when she was about to start in the infamous Firebird ballet. This is the same role that Vanessa herself lands after she effortlessly impresses the school’s main choreographer Josef Zhalkovsky. There Vanessa will discover that, in the past 20 years, other girls involved in the Firebird have disappeared. And when one of her new friends is gone without a trace she starts to wonder about her own safety. Now Vanessa must find the time to investigate these disappearances in between rehearsals and falling in love with heartthrob #1, Zeppelin (recipient of the just now created The Book Smugglers Award for WORST CHARACTER NAME EVER) as well as fighting off the attention of heartthrob #2, Justin. Where do I even start? Perhaps with the question of plausibility. It is established that the New York Ballet Academy is the finest school in the country. And yet, people disappear without a trace and have been disappearing for the past twenty years and NOBODY DOES ANYTHING ABOUT IT or connects the dots that might link these kids to the Academy. Similarly, all the students seem to be stuck to this ONE choreographer that is a bully who ridiculously tells people off when they don’t know a number THEY HAVE YET TO LEARN. The novel ends with the choreographer disappearing and the school doesn’t really care that much at all. No fuss about it. You’d think that that such a prestigious place had better standards but apparently not. Then there is the way that things are established rather than developed. As such the main character has a circle of best friends as soon as she sets foot in the academy as well as a group of Mean Girl antagonists (a group of “skinny” girls who all look and behave the same, of course). When one of her friends goes missing, her group of friends say things like “she’d never do this” but as they barely know each other, how could they know? This becomes especially problematic when combined with the issue of pacing. In SNAIL TIME: most of the book when dealing with minutiae like what people are wearing. At the SPEED OF LIGHT: the most important parts – the actual relationships, the characters’ arcs. The relationship between Zeppelin and Vanessa is based on insta-love. When Vanessa exchanges a look with Zeppelin, without as much as having talked to him before: It already felts like they were intimate, that they had known, maybe even loved, each other in some previous life. Granted, this is a sign of a very immature, naive protagonist – except that there isn’t much in terms of character development at all. The other love interest, Justin, is an arrogant prick. There is one scene when he is rude to her and one of her best friends says: “He looked like he wanted to kill you. Or throw you against the wall and make out with you.” Because we all know that wanting to kill you = wanting to make out. But that’s ok because Justin is actually just trying to save her. As such he spends the entire book and most of their interactions going around in circles, being cryptic and rude to Vanessa and telling her to go away without explaining WHY (considering how she is CENTRAL to a plot to bring a demon into the world, you’d think people would be more forthcoming). But that’s ok because we all know that being cryptic really works and not listening to each other is really a logical way to behave even though Justin KNOWS Vanessa wants to know more about her sister’s disappearance and Vanessa KNOWS that Justin is aware of what is truly going on. Vanessa’s entire motivation is based on her wanting to find her sister so it is really understandable that she would spend little to no time actually finding out what happened to her (that’s irony, by the way). That brings me to the issue of plot-sustainability. Because the prologue makes it so clear (to the reader) that something supernatural is afoot, the fact that the prologue even exists basically removes any potential tension from the rest of the book. At the same time, this makes for incredibly frustrating reading because the main character is completely clueless to the supernatural angle of the story. The entire arc of the novel has the main character questioning What Is Happening, when the reader knows full well what is happening – that all the ballerinas have supernaturally disappeared – even if we don’t have all of the details or the WHY (although one can infer). And then, when you do finally get to the why, it surfaces that some dancers are actually NECRODANCERS capable of using dance to do EVIL THINGS and raise demons FOR REASONS. And there is an actual secret underground dancing group called THE LYRIC ELITE. At that point I was hoping for the book to finish already and started laughing outright. But then I started crying because how does tripe like this get published? ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 11, 2013
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not set
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Feb 11, 2013
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Hardcover
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4.14
| 3,211,867
| May 24, 2012
| May 24, 2012
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it was ok
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**WARNING: THIS REVIEW CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, CAPS LOCK OF RAGE, AND OCCASIONAL SPOILERS (we will let you know when spoilers kick in). You have b
**WARNING: THIS REVIEW CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, CAPS LOCK OF RAGE, AND OCCASIONAL SPOILERS (we will let you know when spoilers kick in). You have been warned.** Thea’s Take: (There will be spoilers, but I’ll give you warning when they kick in.) I started Gone Girl knowing only these things. Gone Girl is: A. One of the bestselling books of 2012, recipient of multiple awards from critics and readers alike, across genres and categories. B. Gillian Flynn’s latest novel, with a rumored HUGE twist somewhere in its 500 pages. C. Supposedly contains a razor-wire plot, and is some kind of examination of perfection, marriage, and murder in small town, Missouri. I finished the book in less than 24 hours, compulsively turning page after page, needing to know what would happen next, who to trust, how it would all end. And, at the end, I can add one more thing to the list of things I know about this book: D. A brilliantly written and plotted mystery, a miasma of wretchedness and hate; a book that I devoured but deeply, utterly abhorred. I will try to do this as spoiler-free as possible. Gone Girl is the alternating point-of-view, semi-epistolary novel that tells two stories about Nick and Amy. In the first story, Amy met Nick in 2005 and falls in love with him. They get married. It is blissful. Amy is the Best Possible Wife, she’s funny, and smart, and beautiful, and RICH. Things start to go sour, however, when Nick loses his job, and then Amy loses her job and her money, and they move to Nick’s small hometown of Middle of Nowhere, MO, to take care of Nick’s dying mother (cancer) and father (Alzheimer’s). Amy is attentive. She is supportive. She still loves the idea of her husband, though she knows things are falling apart. Nick becomes abusive, hateful, hurtful. And then Amy disappears – just, gone without a trace. In this first story, Nick is Amy’s foil and tells his version of events, after Amy’s disappearance. In his narrative, Amy is brilliant and beautiful, but also controlling, resentful, and hateful. Their marriage is a sham. Amy’s disappearance puts Nick in the crosshairs of the police as the killer – and as the days after Amy’s disappearance pass, the evidence against Nick mounts. And then there’s the second story – and therein lie spoilers. Because everything we think we know about Amy and Nick? It’s wrong. Amy is not who we think she is, and Nick is…well, ok Nick is still douchetastically pathetic. In this second story, we learn more about this toxic couple from hell, and the pit of spite and grief that is their marriage. Like the novel’s dual plot, I’m of two minds when it comes to Gone Girl. On the one side, I can appreciate Gillian Flynn’s skill as a writer. She creates two (ok, three) characters that are completely distinct, and she alternates these points of view with incredible deftness and ease, building a complex narrative – a complex crime – that is deeply disturbing but brilliantly executed. The big “twist” is perhaps not such a twist (you kind of expect it, or you at least know that something is going to happen, that you aren’t playing with a full deck of cards), but it’s done really, really well. The first part of the book makes you question what you know about these characters, their lives and their secrets. Everyone is unreliable, everything is questionable. This is all really fucking good. But then, there’s the other side of Gone Girl: the badness, the utter RIDICULOUSNESS of certain developments, the hate that pervades the novel to its rotten-apple core. This, I did not like. I detested the characters, from the unparalleled pathetic misogynistic doucheparade that is Nick to the many different iterations of the “brilliant” Amy. I hated the way the story develops in the second part of the book, and I especially hated the way that it ends. I hated the pointlessness of the story – why does it need to be told? What does it accomplish? What does it say about us, as people? And here come the **SPOILERS** because certain things need to be SAID: Nick. I can’t really waste too much space on Nick, because he is wholly and utterly pathetic. He whines, he pretends, he is so full of incompetence and ennui and self-important horseshit. He lost his job because TEH INTERWEBS ARE EVIL. No, seriously, he’s unemployed because *whines* people don’t read REAL magazines anymore and the BLOGS are killing everything and these HACKS are destroying the printed word and he’s a REAL JOURNALIST and goddammit he’s someone IMPORTANT and why can’t anyone else understand that? He’s GORGEOUS and all the women want to jump on his disco stick, and Nick hates them all for it – women are just things to him. They are cunts, or psycho bitches, or trying too hard (these are all Nick’s words, of course). He wants to be a MAN and Amy – brilliant, beautiful, spoiled, vindictive, Amy – has stolen that from him. And then, that psycho bitch Amy fucks with Nick’s life, and Nick has to figure out how to prove his innocence because all of a sudden NICK IS THE GOOD GUY. Which brings me to Amy. It turns out that Amy is not the eager to please doormat that she presents herself as in the first part of the book. No, she is an honest to goodness sociopath that has elaborately planned and framed her cheating pathetic loser of a husband for her death. It’s not the first time, either! She’s ruined female friends, and men that have DARED to cross her/make her unhappy (by claiming RAPE, or that people are obsessed with her, and so on and so forth). Amy is brilliant and vindictive, cruel and efficient in her mastermind scheme to bring Nick DOWN. As sick as it is, I actually liked the first twist: Amy’s edge, revealed in the second part of the book, when we find out Amy is alive and that everything she’s written in the first part of the book is a lie. But then, everything starts to unravel and Amy is made out to be not only a people-hating manipulating sociopath, but a completely incompetent one, to boot – she is suckered into a relationship with her neighbors while she’s in hiding and is robbed for all her money (she only lasts for 9 days before she’s robbed! COME ON!). She BELIEVES Nick when he goes on TV and earnestly pleads for his wife to come home, so she does it just like that. Are you fucking kidding me? THESE are the actions of the same methodical, patient mind that came up with this elaborate revenge scheme against her husband? I repeat: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? She then fucks, and kills, and makes her way back into her husband’s life. She then TRAPS her husband into silence and complacence with a Miracle Baby (it’s a BOY of course!) and that makes Nick stay with her forever and always. And that is the end of Gone Girl. There are plenty of other problems, too, but Ana has covered them all, below. Frankly, I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to waste any more time or thought on this novel. I’m done writing now. Ana’s Take: (SPOILERS AHOY) Gone Girl is one of the most ridiculous books I have ever read, one that comes with an inordinate amount of hype and disguised as a “clever”, “dark”, twisterific thriller that supposedly deals with serious shit like “when a marriage go bad”. It follows the story of Nick and Amy’s marriage. It opens on the day of their fifth anniversary, the day when Amy goes missing. Soon – as these things go – the investigators start to focus on the husband. But is Nick guilty? Did he really kill his wife? If not, what happened to Amy? It’s divided in three parts and in part one, the narrative alternates between Nick’s first person narrative as he deals with Amy’s disappearance and Amy’s journal. As the plot progresses, their story is slowly revealed to the reader: Amy is a WEALTHY, BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL, COOL New Yorker whose parents write the Amazing Amy children stories. Nick is a BRILLIANT, HANDSOME journalist writing about pop culture for a magazine. Until Nick lost his job (because the INTERNET IS EVIL), Amy lost hers, and they need to move to Nick’s hometown in Missouri to take care of his sick mother. Their marriage was already shaky but it’s in Missouri that things start to really fall part between them. This part of the story is basically about Privileged White People’s Problems and both come across as entitled WANKERS – especially the aloof man-child Nick who, once his marriage starts to fall apart and money problems hit them, cheats on his wife with a much younger girl (his student). It would be a very familiar and trite story except for the fact that Amy’s journal entries start to show a different side of Nick: one that is increasingly abusive and scary. All of a sudden and in spite of Nick’s protestations, it is obvious that he is hiding something and he might after all, be guilty. Then comes part 2 and the twist: Amy knew that Nick had been cheating on her and for the past year she created this elaborate plan to disappear and frame Nick for her “killing” as vengeance. As such, her diaries entries are all faked concoctions. It becomes clear then that Amy is really, a psychopath. Parts two and three deal with Amy’s attempted revenge, Nick’s realisation of how far his wife really will go, all leading to the eventual showdown between them as Nick wants her back so he can clear his name and maybe kill her or something equally unpleasant. Gone Girl almost had me there for a while – I can vouch for how incredibly readable and engaging it is. I could not put it down and I had to find out what was going to happen to these people. I also thought that structurally speaking – with the alternating unreliable narratives – the novel was competent. It was also a success in the way that it portrayed its two deeply unpleasant, unlikeable main characters. The reader is supposed to despise these people, and loathe them I certainly did although it made for a fucking unpleasant reading experience. Plus, really, these types of “dark” characters BORE ME TO DEATH. But ok fine, this is a very personal reaction. The thing is: because the two narratives don’t exactly fit together in part one, it is obvious that at least one of them is an unreliable narrator, possibly the two. And if a reader is used to reading epistolary novels, unreliable narrators and thrillers, it is easy to know that a twist is coming. Considering all this, is the main twist even that surprising? That said, this is not my main point of contention with the novel. The recurring themes are what give me pause for thought. It is possible to argue that the one of the main themes of Gone Girl is its thoughtful examination of marriage difficulties; or to question how well two people can really know each other or allow the other to know you and, unfair expectations. The problem is: the novel cannot possibly be indicative of all marriages or a heartfelt exploration of this theme because NOT EVERYBODY IS A VINDICTIVE PSYCHOPATH OR A WHINNY MAN-CHILD WITH SOCIOPATHIC TENDENCIES. Unless you know, you want argue that one can never know who one has married because maybe, just maybe your husband/wife is planning RIGHT NOW to fake-kill themselves and frame you because you didn’t wash the dishes after dinner that one time. SO you know, BE CAREFUL. This means that the book only really works on its own microcosm of darkness. Another recurring theme throughout is the question of misogyny. Nick’s father is a deeply misogynistic character and Nick hates his father and lives under the constant fear that he too, might be misogynistic. This is really interesting in the way that it explores the difficulty in getting away from one’s upbringing. Amy on the other hand, is presented as a (kind of) feminist with her astute observations about social gender constructs by constantly calling on the bullshit of unfair social expectations around her gender. So on a cursory glance one could argue that the book is feminist. I’d argue against that. WHOLEHEARTEDLY. What else could I argue when the only obvious feminist character turns out to be a psychopath who HATES EVERY OTHER WOMAN she knows, lies about having being raped, about being stalked and eventually “traps” her husband by becoming pregnant. When the entire story is eventually contrived to show Amy as the True Villain and Nick as the one Nice Guy (despite his aloofness, his cheating, his lies and his manipulative strike) who is not REALLY a misogynist because he doesn’t hate ALL FUCKING BITCHES, he only hates his PSYCHO BITCH wife (his choice of words, not mine, by the way). He is also the one who in the end, needs to contain the psycho bitch by staying with her and helping her bringing up their child. So then all of a sudden this passive-aggressive, liar, stunted, cheater is the HERO? HAHAHA: NO. And you could argue that these PEOPLE ARE HORRID and so of course, it all makes sense. But the NARRATIVE SUPPORTS ALL THIS SHITNESS by presenting every other woman in this novel as HORRIBLE PEOPLE TOO, without nuance. Well, apart from the two obviously good characters who are sympathetic TOWARD NICK: there is this one female cop who just “knows” he must be innocent and his own twin sister who is DUH OBVIOUSLY, so perfect and of course unlike any other woman. Plus, the one guy that Amy has accused of rape turns out to be innocent because really, he is just a Nice Guy and we all know that only ALPHA GUYS are rapists. Nice Guys are NEVER RAPISTS. EVER. HAHAHA: NO. Not to mention that the book COMPLETELY lacks internal logic. The one main thread of the book, the one point that is laboriously written through the first two parts is how Amy is incredibly smart and brilliant. She has to be, in order to manipulate, concoct and maintain all the plans she has over the course of her short life. But then get this, right? Nick concocts his own plan to make Amy change her mind and come back. And his plan consists of appearing live on TV and saying that he forgives her, that he understands who she really is and he loves her anyway. That’s his plan. AND IT WORKS. Amy – psychopath, brilliant Amy – has a change of heart almost as immediately as she watches his interview. And that’s because according to Nick, Amy lacks a “bullshit detector”. BUT the first half of the book was all about setting up and making sure we understood how much of a bullshit detector Amy actually had. So which one is it? Either she is a brilliant psychopath or a gullible idiot. SHE CAN NOT BE BOTH, BOOK. And I am going to nitpick too: Nick is in his early thirties buy he sounds fucking ancient. Like the whole whinny “the internet killed my career” thing when he is at the right age to actually know how to take advantage of the Internet? Please. In summation: I devoured Gone Girl but I fucking hated it. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 02, 2013
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not set
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Feb 02, 2013
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Hardcover
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1595145842
| 9781595145840
| 1595145842
| 3.78
| 61,854
| Dec 11, 2012
| Dec 11, 2012
|
it was ok
|
Originally reviewed on Kirkus' SF/F Blog All these men saw when they looked at her was a little girl who’d run away on a whim to search for magic seeds Originally reviewed on Kirkus' SF/F Blog All these men saw when they looked at her was a little girl who’d run away on a whim to search for magic seeds. Who caused trouble. Who was utterly useless in every way except looking pretty. Maybe she was. And if that was true, then being here was only causing more problems for her father. Finally Cleo nodded and turned away. Such is the characterization of Falling Kingdoms’ primary heroine, Princess Cleiona (Cleo) Bellos, youngest princess to the kingdom of Auranos - she kinda has an idea of what she wants to do, but then gives up quickly (luckily, she’s The Most Beautiful Princess in the Land and gets bailed out by all the men in desperate love with her, thanks to her unparalleled hotness). And such is my problem with so much of Falling Kingdoms - half-hearted characters, simplistic worldbuilding and paint-by-numbers plotting make this a blandly forgettable high fantasy foray. In Morgan Rhodes’ (the YA pen name for adult urban fantasy & romance author Michelle Rowan) Falling Kingdoms, three neighboring lands hold a tenuous peace that threatens to unravel. To the south is Auranos, a kingdom of wealth and prosperity, ruled by the even-handed King Bellos and his two beautiful daughters, the responsible, elder Emilia and impetuous younger sister Cleo. To the far north is the kingdom of Limeros, ruled by the cruel, power-hungry King Damora who schemes to seize Auranos through any means possible - even if it means manipulation of his powerful young daughter Lucia and her besotted brother, Magnus. Torn between Auranos and Limeros is Paelsia, an impoverished nation renown for its wineries but without resources or power and exploited routinely by Auranos to the south. When King Damora comes with his plans to invade Auranos, the Paelsians are more than happy to join their meager forces to the cause. Caught in the middle of this political turmoil are four characters - Jonas of Paelsia, who vows revenge on the Auranos royals who swindled his winemaking father and murdered his brother; Princess Cleo of Auranos, who will do anything to save her older sister, even travel to Paelsia even though her life is at risk; Prince Magnus of Limeros, who harbors a forbidden love for his younger sister Lucia; and Princess Lucia, who is the heir to powerful magic, the likes of which could mean the end of everything in all the kingdoms. At first glance, Falling Kingdoms looks like a competent, promising fantasy novel. Three kingdoms on the brink of war, a varied cast of conflicted characters, the promise of magical involvement - what more could a fantasy lover want? Quite a lot more, unfortunately, is the answer to that not-so-rhetorical question. Falling Kingdoms may have the basic scaffolding upon which many winsome classic fantasy novels are built (yes, yes, including the obvious A Song of Ice and Fire similarities), but this particular book stumbles repeatedly in its execution. In other words, Game of Thrones it ain’t. The most immediately glaring of these execution missteps lies with the inherent simplicity of the three kingdoms, Auranos, Paelsia, and Limeros. Apparently, in Rhodes’ world, the basic tenets of economic theory (supply and demand, the invisible hand, and so on and so forth) cease to exist. This is seen as the entire kingdom of Paelsia - its hundreds of thousands of inhabitants are all uniformly impoverished. Where the finest, scarcest wines (for which there is ever-increasing demand) fetch ever-decreasing prices. Where no one in the entire kingdom thinks to plant crops other than wine even when imports of food are unaffordable and exports of wine fetch no profit. But I digress - in all other ways, these three kingdoms - which, apparently, are all very close together and easily traversable in a matter of days - are differentiated by their conveniently inverted political beliefs and climate differences. Limeros to the North is pious to the point where they burn suspected witches while it’s cloaked in perpetual winter; Auranos to the South is utterly decadent and frivolous, concerned with parties and libations, blessed with warm weather and hedonistic debauchery; poor Paelsia in-between the two extremes is a gray land of destitute peasants who have been victimized for generations. In other words, it’s a very quaint, Mickey Mouseish approach to different countries in a fantasy setting. Beyond the bland, derivative world, there’s also the problem of the flat, simplistic characters. In the same vein as any number of multicast fantasy novels, Falling Kingdoms alternates point of view each chapter, building to a convergence of these seemingly disparate storylines - a format that, when done well, is enjoyable. Not so in this book, because the four main characters in this piece are uniformly beautiful caricatures that lack any integrity or emotional depth. Cleo is the most beautiful golden princess of Auranos (her male best friend and bodyguard and probably Jonas are desperately in love with her, of course). Lucia is the darkly beautiful princess of Limeros, whose brother loves her in a most unbrotherly fashion (again, because she’s so damn beautiful, he can’t help himself). Jonas is the handsome peasant who HATES ALL ROYALS FOREVER AND EVER; Magnus is the broodingly gorgeous prince with a dark secret to match his attractive bad boy exterior. This simplification extends beyond the main characters, too - the calculating cruel king of Limeros is also a sadistic torturer who takes pleasure from cruelty to prisoners; his mistress is a sorceress who is wickedly beautiful and always clad in scarlet. You get the picture. The writing is marginally competent - though annoyingly littered with an abundance of descriptors of characters’ hair and costume, with beautiful eyes widening in shock and sharp breaths being inhaled with surprise - but utterly forgettable. At best, that is what Falling Kingdoms is, exactly: marginally competent, but eminently forgettable. In Book Smugglerish, a tepid 4 out of 10. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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not set
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Dec 07, 2012
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Hardcover
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0345504984
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| 4.03
| 102,676
| Oct 16, 2012
| Oct 16, 2012
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it was ok
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**spoiler alert** Originally reviewed on The Book Smugglers WARNING: This review contains spoilers. Trigger warning: Rape I'm going to preface this revi **spoiler alert** Originally reviewed on The Book Smugglers WARNING: This review contains spoilers. Trigger warning: Rape I'm going to preface this review by saying that I was so intensely excited for this book, having loved The Passage so very much. Sometimes, expectations can be a bitch. I always like to start off my reviews with a synopsis of the book - but in the case of The Twelve, I'm not even sure I can provide an accurate synopsis because the novel is so ridiculously scattered. But I will do my best: The book begins with a lengthy Prologue written in a numbered, pseudo-biblical fashion (which caused the first tingling of unease in my mind): 1. For it came to pass that the world had grown wicked, and men had taken war into their hearts, and committed great defilements upon every living thing, so that the world was as a dream of death; (This goes on for three chapters in the same pretentiously overblown and numbered fashion.) Following the prologue, The Twelve is split into 12 parts (called books), each containing their own separate chapters. In Book I, the story briefly jumps to the year 97 A.V. (After Virals) - which would theoretically be where we left off at the end of The Passage - but after just two quick chapters in the "present," Book II commences, jumping all the way back to the days immediately following Project NOAH's breach and the apocalyptic end of civilization (aka Year Zero). Here, we are introduced to a handful of disparate characters - an autistic bus driver, a lone gunman making a last stand in viral-overrun Denver, a delusional pregnant doctor named Lila Kyle suffering from serious post traumatic stress syndrome, and a reformed pedophile janitor named Lawrence Grey (who worked for NOAH), amongst many others. The majority of these characters disappear without a trace as Book II progresses, and though the disparate group comes together (sort of) by this particular section's end, most of these characters serve no other purpose in the actual plot at large. Then in Book III, the narrative jumps to 79 A.V. - still not back to our core group of characters from The Passage! - and details a massacre in a field, when a group of survivors made the catastrophically stupid mistake of going outside of the colony's safe walls to have a summer picnic with their children (come on, people - really?). Only at Book IV - some 250 pages into The Twelve - we finally move back to the story proper in 97 A.V., picking up with the familiar characters we got to know in The Passage and continuing with their journey to find and kill the remaining eleven "boss" virals, the original test subjects of Project NOAH. Except...we quickly learn that Peter, Alicia and company haven't had any successes. The Eleven have wizened up to the Expeditionary's scheme, and have taken an entirely new tack. Then the book jumps to a completely new city, where a Very Bad Man - Horace Guilder, Deputy Director of Project NOAH (aka, the guy who decided to weaponize vampirism and screwed the pooch) - rules as dictator under the sinister moniker of "the Director."[1. Yes, which feels decidedly Walking Dead-ish. Not only does the Director share a similar name to the Governor, but they both are portrayed as stereotypically cheesy, over-the-top, not-to-be-trusted baddies.] This new city in Iowa, Homeland, captures people from other colonies, indiscriminately raping and killing anyone in their path. Oh, and Horace the Director and his cronies, the so called "red eyes"? They are a whole new kind of viral-human crossbreed in cahoots with the Twelve - I mean, the Eleven.[2. Even though the Zero - aka Biggest Boss Viral that will be killed in the final stages of this particular video game - hamhandedly tells his brethren in melodramatic mindspeak, Oh, my brothers, my pain is as great as your own. But you will be Twelve again. For I have made another, one to watch and keep you in your place of rest.] I'll stop there. Needless to say, the main thrust of The Twelve is hard to describe in a coherent way because the book is literally all over the place. Exacerbating the structural issues and outlandishly excessive page count (the first 300 pages could have been pared down significantly) is the bizarre pseudo-spiritual/religion/destiny thread running throughout. The pretentious prologue, unfortunately, is only the beginning - we are reacquainted with a character that Finds God, there is overall talk of God and Destiny; even Amy, the Girl from Nowhere herself, is reaching levels of decidedly religious martyrdom and magicalness. I'm not exactly sure what Cronin is aiming for with The Twelve - beyond the metaphysical, dreamspacy jumble, there are also clumsy and overt parallels drawn to the Holocaust (captives in Homeland are transported en masse in horrible conditions, sorted and separated, shorn and tattooed), and to insurgents that resort to suicide bombings and other attacks in defiance. While the allusions are obvious and potential fodder for deeper examination of humanity and human nature, The Twelve never really explores any deeper significance of these horrific extremes. Because of this, the allusions feel gratuitous, implemented for pure revulsion and shock value. There's also an odd hollowness to the characters this time around - instead of focusing on the monstrous characters of the original virals, the Twelve (that are now Eleven) and a supernatural threat like the terrifying Babcock, we are introduced to a decidedly one note villain in the figure of Horace Guilder (who is OF COURSE a man that never was loved by his father, that was incapable of relationships with women and was horribly embarrassed by the prostitute he fell in love with, and so on and so forth). Even the time we spend with characters that we do remember and love from The Passage - Peter, Alicia and Sara primarily - and the newer more compelling characters we meet along the way (Lila) is too little, and far too late. And then there is something deeply, horribly problematic in the portrayal of female characters. In the latter portion of the book, Alicia - who you'll remember is the strongest female member of the cast, both physically thanks to Amy's blood, and in terms of her development as a character - is horrendously brutalized and raped. Why is it necessary for Alicia to be brutally tortured and raped? WHY is it necessary for there to be sanctioned, systematic rape of female characters? WHY? Needless to say, the amount of brutalization to which females in this dystopian society are subjected is deeply disturbing. I can't even begin to express my level of disappointment and frustration with The Twelve. If The Passage was a riff on Stephen King at his 'Salem's Lot meets The Stand best, The Twelve is like King at his most bloated and ridiculous (think...Dreamcatcher or The Regulators). This is a middle book, and it reads like so much filler - occasionally exciting and momentarily engaging, but so choppy, confused and littered with problems that ultimately none of it seems to matter. At this point, I won't be sticking around for book 3. ...more |
Notes are private!
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Oct 12, 2012
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not set
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Oct 12, 2012
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Hardcover
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