Summer break should be a time of lazy mornings, afternoons spent outdoors, and long twilights where anything feels possible. For Gottie, the main character of The Square Root of Summer, summer break has become something to dread. After her beloved grandfather's death the year before, Gottie descended into a grief so deep she has yet to discover the bottom. As if that weren't enough, her brother's return from school has also brought the return of his friend Jason, Gottie's first love and first heartbreak. It also brings the return of her childhood best friend Thomas, who emigrated to Canada years ago, and never once in the years he's been away wrote or called.
With so much going on in Gottie's world, when she starts losing time she wonders if she might not be going mad. Each time it happens, she has a vivid flashback to a memory from the summer before. Soon she realizes they are more than just flashbacks-she is actually there, in the past, able to manipulate things and talk to people. Gottie, a scientific genius, develops a theory; she believes she is traveling through wormholes in space-time. In other words, time-travel. But why? What is causing this time displacement? And why does she keep going back to revisit memories she's been trying to avoid?
This book takes a novel approach to both the idea of time travel, and to the exploration of loss and grief. It's not often that I've seen quantum physics used as a major plot device in YA literature. But in the context of the story, it works. Which of us, when faced with painful memories, doesn't shy away? Gottie spends and entire year trying to avoid anything that reminds her of either her first heartbreak or her father's death. This means pushing away everyone-family, best friend, teachers at school. But Hapgood's message-that we must confront painful memories if we hope to learn from them or move past them-is perfectly delivered through the events Gottie relives as she is sucked back in time.
The characters are quirky and charming. Though Gottie's mother died when she was born, her father a German ex-pat, chose to stay in England to raise his children. He was benignly neglectful of Gottie and her brother Ned even when their grandfather was alive, but he withdrew from the world even more after he died. Throughout the long winter, Gottie longed for him to be more present, but he was dealing with his grief in his own way. Ned, Gottie's brother, is a first year uni student who wants to be a rock star. His exuberance and love for life covers his own grief, which he hides from Gottie, feeling he has to take care of her. And even though Gray, Gottie's grandfather, is not physically present, he looms large over Gottie's entire journey that summer, as she finally faces her most painful memories of him. He was larger than life, the kind and eccentric patriarch of their little family. He was the opposite of Gottie's introspective father, and as such he became the central figure in Gottie's childhood. His loss destabilized her whole world-the whole universe, apparently, if the fabric of space-time was rent as a result.
The love story here is pretty predictable, which didn't make it less enjoyable to read. The depth of Gottie's relationship to Thomas, and the struggles they have to go through to repair their friendship before they can be together at all add a tension that improves on the basic plot device of "best-friend-becomes-boyfriend". Gottie also has to repair her friendship with her bestie Sof, whom she pushed away after Gray's death, not wanting to drag her into her well of grief. What she failed to realize was that Sof was grieving as well, and they could have supported each other, and Gottie not turned inward so drastically. There are some good themes about the meaning of friendship, and about how healthy relationships require commitment and work to keep them going. There was also a good anti-example in Gottie's relationship with Jason, her "first love". Gottie comes to realize that what they had was never what she thought it was.
This is Hapgood's debut novel, and for a first novel it is very good. I'd definitely recommend it for inclusion in a classroom library, or as a book club read for high schoolers. I don't know that it has universal appeal, but I can see many teens connecting with one or the other characters, and with the themes of friendship, loss, and love.
Showing posts with label science fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label science fiction. Show all posts
The Square Root of Summer, Harriet Reuter Hapgood
Saturday, July 07, 2018
Friday, June 08, 2018
Neal Shusterman is one of my faves. I heard him speak at a reading conference a few years ago, and I appreciated how much he honors the intelligence of young people in his writing. His novels are full of action and excitement, but they also deal with big, challenging ideas that make the reader think and question. My favorite series of his is the Unwind Dystology, but I've liked almost everything I've ever read of his (sorry, Challenger Deep-I just didn't get you).
It says something about just how many YA books I currently have on my to-read shelf that it's taken me as long as it did to read Scythe, the first book in a new trilogy by Shusterman. The book is set in a future America where an artificial intelligence called the Thunderhead has benevolently taken over control of human society, solving all of the problems that plague mankind-poverty, crime, war, disease, even death-in the process. Because people can now reset themselves to younger ages, even be brought back from the dead (they call it "being deadish"), the population threatens to grow too large for available resources. That is where the Scythes come in. The only thing the Thunderhead does not control in this new world order are the Scythes, trained assassins who are required kill a certain number of people each month in an effort to keep the population under control. Scythes can choose to do this however they see fit, as long as they don't choose their victims based on biases, or spare victims because of personal connections. As you can imagine, Scythes are not exactly a welcome sight at your office picnic or kid's soccer game. Though they are revered for their necessary service to society, no one really wants to BE one. But that is exactly what Citra and Rowan have been selected for-to be apprenticed to a Scythe in hopes of earning the robes that will allow them to choose life or death for the people they meet. But, as they soon discover, there is a growing corruption in the order of the Scythes; there are Scythes who feel they should be freed from restrictions on who and how many people they can kill, Scythes who enjoy taking life so much they make a spectacle of it. Citra and Rowan must figure out how they can protect society from these immoral Scythes, or die trying.
Shusterman does a few unique things here with his worldbuilding. First, there is the whole premise of Scythes. I mean, people try to cheat death all the time, right? But what would the world be like if people really couldn't die? Would they stop getting married, having families, etc..? Probably not. The planet would be overrun in a generation. (This reminds me of Torchwood: Miracle Day, which had a similar storyline, though with a different cause). Also, not only didn't they die, but they can reset themselves back to a younger age to have a better quality of life. This appears to lead to some changes in the way people perceive relationships, both romantic and familial. Would people stay married to the same spouse for eternity, or would they eventually desire something different? How many children can a person have over centuries before they can't even remember all of them? How does the relationship change when suddenly your grandmother looks and feels younger than you do?
Most of the time when authors write stories about all-powerful AIs, they are trying to enslave humanity (think Skynet from the Terminator movies). Shusterman's Thundercloud, however, uses its power to save humanity. Of course, it takes over the functions of government to do so, and controls every aspect of daily life, but benevolently. Maybe Shusterman is setting us up for some big reveal about how the Thunderhead is actually using humans as slave labor for some larger purpose, but I don't think so. I think that Shusterman is presenting a version of the future where the technology we've created really does end up helping us instead of hurting us. That would be great, since technological advances are happening exponentially and there's no stopping them. I'd prefer the future where that's a good thing instead of a world-ending thing. This does beg the question of genre, though. I mean, ordinarily I'd say this is dystopian science fiction, but is it really dystopia if life is better after the computers take over?
The main characters Citra and Rowan are pretty well-developed, though I'm a little over the star-crossed-lovers thing in YA books in general. At least in this case the thing that makes them star-crossed is a little more unique than usual. I'm looking forward to seeing where Shusterman takes the story-a plot line that I assumed would take the whole trilogy to resolve was resolved by the end of the first book (and resolved well, not rushed nor through some deus ex machina shenanigans). Book 2, Thunderhead, arrived yesterday, and despite the many other books that have been on my to-read shelf longer, I may just have to dive right into it.
It says something about just how many YA books I currently have on my to-read shelf that it's taken me as long as it did to read Scythe, the first book in a new trilogy by Shusterman. The book is set in a future America where an artificial intelligence called the Thunderhead has benevolently taken over control of human society, solving all of the problems that plague mankind-poverty, crime, war, disease, even death-in the process. Because people can now reset themselves to younger ages, even be brought back from the dead (they call it "being deadish"), the population threatens to grow too large for available resources. That is where the Scythes come in. The only thing the Thunderhead does not control in this new world order are the Scythes, trained assassins who are required kill a certain number of people each month in an effort to keep the population under control. Scythes can choose to do this however they see fit, as long as they don't choose their victims based on biases, or spare victims because of personal connections. As you can imagine, Scythes are not exactly a welcome sight at your office picnic or kid's soccer game. Though they are revered for their necessary service to society, no one really wants to BE one. But that is exactly what Citra and Rowan have been selected for-to be apprenticed to a Scythe in hopes of earning the robes that will allow them to choose life or death for the people they meet. But, as they soon discover, there is a growing corruption in the order of the Scythes; there are Scythes who feel they should be freed from restrictions on who and how many people they can kill, Scythes who enjoy taking life so much they make a spectacle of it. Citra and Rowan must figure out how they can protect society from these immoral Scythes, or die trying.
Shusterman does a few unique things here with his worldbuilding. First, there is the whole premise of Scythes. I mean, people try to cheat death all the time, right? But what would the world be like if people really couldn't die? Would they stop getting married, having families, etc..? Probably not. The planet would be overrun in a generation. (This reminds me of Torchwood: Miracle Day, which had a similar storyline, though with a different cause). Also, not only didn't they die, but they can reset themselves back to a younger age to have a better quality of life. This appears to lead to some changes in the way people perceive relationships, both romantic and familial. Would people stay married to the same spouse for eternity, or would they eventually desire something different? How many children can a person have over centuries before they can't even remember all of them? How does the relationship change when suddenly your grandmother looks and feels younger than you do?
Most of the time when authors write stories about all-powerful AIs, they are trying to enslave humanity (think Skynet from the Terminator movies). Shusterman's Thundercloud, however, uses its power to save humanity. Of course, it takes over the functions of government to do so, and controls every aspect of daily life, but benevolently. Maybe Shusterman is setting us up for some big reveal about how the Thunderhead is actually using humans as slave labor for some larger purpose, but I don't think so. I think that Shusterman is presenting a version of the future where the technology we've created really does end up helping us instead of hurting us. That would be great, since technological advances are happening exponentially and there's no stopping them. I'd prefer the future where that's a good thing instead of a world-ending thing. This does beg the question of genre, though. I mean, ordinarily I'd say this is dystopian science fiction, but is it really dystopia if life is better after the computers take over?
The main characters Citra and Rowan are pretty well-developed, though I'm a little over the star-crossed-lovers thing in YA books in general. At least in this case the thing that makes them star-crossed is a little more unique than usual. I'm looking forward to seeing where Shusterman takes the story-a plot line that I assumed would take the whole trilogy to resolve was resolved by the end of the first book (and resolved well, not rushed nor through some deus ex machina shenanigans). Book 2, Thunderhead, arrived yesterday, and despite the many other books that have been on my to-read shelf longer, I may just have to dive right into it.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Anytime anyone asks for science fiction recommendations, I'm always sure to tell them about Octavia Butler. Winner of numerous awards, Butler was the first black woman to make a name for herself in this notoriously male-dominated genre. Her books explore issues of race and gender and the ways they intersect in the experiences of women of color. Perhaps best known for her masterpiece of time travel, Kindred, she has also written two major series, Patternamsters and the Xenogenesis series.
The Xenogenesis series starts with the book Dawn, and includes the novels Adulthood Rites and Imago. In Dawn, Lilith Ayapo had just lost her husband and daughter when the earth is destroyed in a nuclear war. She wakes up two hundred years later on an alien ship that is orbiting the now lifeless planet Earth. Just as the bombs were dropping, the aliens transported thousands of humans to their ship to save humanity from extinction, and to repopulate the Earth once it is safe to do so. But the aliens aren't just doing it out of the kindness of their hearts (or whatever organ stands for goodness in their culture). The race of aliens that has saved the humans survives by traveling the stars, interacting with other species, and taking some of their genetic traits into themselves. Basically, they mean to procreate with humans to capture their genetic material, and the reward is the continuation of the human species. As you can imagine, this does not sit well with many of the humans, who see the aliens as their jailers, not their saviors.
Superior alien technology means that while the aliens try to get consent, they can basically take what they want, so humanity's resistance is pretty futile. Adulthood Rites and Imago take the story from the ship down to Earth, and through at least two generations of both humans and aliens. The story explores the idea that humanity has two fatal flaws that will always cause violence and destruction; intelligence and a desire for hierarchy. Because humans believe in hierarchy, they will always try to assert dominance. Because they are intelligent, their attempts to dominate each other can be incredibly destructive. The novels also explore the idea that humans feel threatened by anyone who does not resemble themselves, which in this case leads to some memorable conflicts with the aliens, but is also a symbol for the way humans have used everything from the shape of someone's eyes to skin color as an excuse to "other" people who are different than them. This "othering" allows humans to justify their domination, repression, and genocide against each other.
Unlike some of Butler's books, the message behind this story is pretty clearly stated by the aliens as they strive to teach the humans how to overcome their violent natures. There are plenty of examples of this human flaw, from when Lilith fights against her alien captors on the ship to the so-called resistors on Earth who try to escape the influence of the aliens. The human tendency for violence is starkly contrasted against the alien culture, who do everything in their power to avoid violence, and who are constantly at a loss for why humans would do so much that undermined their own existence.
The aliens are not perfect, though. While they are a less-violent people, they do have their own caste system. There are three basic types of aliens, and each has its own specific role in their society. To some extent, these roles are in fact defined by their biology-the three types of alien are different in form and function. But any deviation from those roles is met with disapproval and sadness on the part of the others, and extreme cases of dissatisfaction with one's purpose in life are dealt with through exile back on the ship.
Butler's creation of the alien race is unlike anything I'd read before. So often, aliens in science fiction are portrayed as inhuman monsters, or they are created in a human's image. These aliens felt just that-alien. Their cool assessment of human nature is something that is hard to deny, given our millennia of history and their almost incessant wars. Once again, Butler has shown us something about ourselves that is discomforting at best, and monstrous at worst, but that we must confront if we ever hope to move past the divisiveness of racism, classism, sexism, etc...that has defined our societies thus far.
The Xenogenesis series starts with the book Dawn, and includes the novels Adulthood Rites and Imago. In Dawn, Lilith Ayapo had just lost her husband and daughter when the earth is destroyed in a nuclear war. She wakes up two hundred years later on an alien ship that is orbiting the now lifeless planet Earth. Just as the bombs were dropping, the aliens transported thousands of humans to their ship to save humanity from extinction, and to repopulate the Earth once it is safe to do so. But the aliens aren't just doing it out of the kindness of their hearts (or whatever organ stands for goodness in their culture). The race of aliens that has saved the humans survives by traveling the stars, interacting with other species, and taking some of their genetic traits into themselves. Basically, they mean to procreate with humans to capture their genetic material, and the reward is the continuation of the human species. As you can imagine, this does not sit well with many of the humans, who see the aliens as their jailers, not their saviors.
Superior alien technology means that while the aliens try to get consent, they can basically take what they want, so humanity's resistance is pretty futile. Adulthood Rites and Imago take the story from the ship down to Earth, and through at least two generations of both humans and aliens. The story explores the idea that humanity has two fatal flaws that will always cause violence and destruction; intelligence and a desire for hierarchy. Because humans believe in hierarchy, they will always try to assert dominance. Because they are intelligent, their attempts to dominate each other can be incredibly destructive. The novels also explore the idea that humans feel threatened by anyone who does not resemble themselves, which in this case leads to some memorable conflicts with the aliens, but is also a symbol for the way humans have used everything from the shape of someone's eyes to skin color as an excuse to "other" people who are different than them. This "othering" allows humans to justify their domination, repression, and genocide against each other.
Unlike some of Butler's books, the message behind this story is pretty clearly stated by the aliens as they strive to teach the humans how to overcome their violent natures. There are plenty of examples of this human flaw, from when Lilith fights against her alien captors on the ship to the so-called resistors on Earth who try to escape the influence of the aliens. The human tendency for violence is starkly contrasted against the alien culture, who do everything in their power to avoid violence, and who are constantly at a loss for why humans would do so much that undermined their own existence.
The aliens are not perfect, though. While they are a less-violent people, they do have their own caste system. There are three basic types of aliens, and each has its own specific role in their society. To some extent, these roles are in fact defined by their biology-the three types of alien are different in form and function. But any deviation from those roles is met with disapproval and sadness on the part of the others, and extreme cases of dissatisfaction with one's purpose in life are dealt with through exile back on the ship.
Butler's creation of the alien race is unlike anything I'd read before. So often, aliens in science fiction are portrayed as inhuman monsters, or they are created in a human's image. These aliens felt just that-alien. Their cool assessment of human nature is something that is hard to deny, given our millennia of history and their almost incessant wars. Once again, Butler has shown us something about ourselves that is discomforting at best, and monstrous at worst, but that we must confront if we ever hope to move past the divisiveness of racism, classism, sexism, etc...that has defined our societies thus far.
Friday, February 16, 2018

space agency and runs through international cooperation from most of the major economies in the world. Pretty much everyone in Artemis is an immigrant from somewhere else because apparently, it is not healthy for babies or mothers to be pregnant on the moon (who knew?).
Jasmine Bashara, aka Jazz, has lived on the moon for as much as her life as it's possible to. She and her father moved to the moon when Jazz was six years old. Mr. Bashara is a welder, and a devout Muslim, and tried to make Jazz into both. Let's just say he did not succeed. She is now a smuggler, working as a porter so she can meet shipments as they arrive at port, giving her access to contraband smuggled up from Earth. When one of her richest clients asks her to help him sabotage the oxygen-making operation of a company he is hoping to buy, Jazz can't resist the prospect of quick money. But her get-rich-quick scheme quickly falls apart when she discovers that the company she's been tasked with putting out of business is owned by organized crime. She finds herself on the run, trying to figure out a way to stay alive and on the moon.
For all of the science in Weir's novel, this is essentially a good, old-fashioned thriller. And there is a LOT of science. I learned more about how things work (or don't) in the lunar environment than I even knew there was to learn. The tension was only increased by the fact that Artemis is basically inescapable. You can't just run off to some non-extraditing country to avoid capture, nor can you lay low in a place where almost everyone knows you. There are long scientific explanations of engineering, welding, and the imagined tech that allows people to go outside of Artemis without dying. Weir definitely knows his stuff-or at least, I assume he does, because I couldn't tell you if any of the science was real or not. But if not, he's pretty convincing. Given how meticulously The Martian was researched, I'd have to say he's probably not bluffing.
The main character is just that; a character. Jazz is brash, sarcastic, overconfident, incredibly smart, and pretty good at self-sabotage. Because the novel is told from her first-person perspective, you get a lot of information about her inner life, and that definitely makes her more endearing as a character, even when you think she's being reckless or just plain stupid. My one criticism is that Weir writes her as though she is a man who just happens to be female. I don't mean in the trans* way; I mean her attitude, way of speaking, reactions to events, etc...just felt stereotypically masculine to me. I'm certainly not one to believe biology is destiny, and I applaud anyone, male or female, who can break the bonds of expected gender roles. But I spent most of the book thinking that Weir decided to write a female character without actually figuring out how that would change the thoughts, feelings, and actions of the said character. Despite that, I thoroughly enjoyed following Jazz on her (mis)adventures, and if you are a fan of science fiction that is heavy on the science, this book is for you.
I listened to the audiobook for this one, because I read that Rosario Dawson was the narrator, and she did an admirable job. I'd give her an eight out of ten for her performance, so audiobook-lovers, check it out!
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Stephen King's latest novel continues his long tradition of using events from his own life to inform the lives of his extremely well-crafted and believable characters. Revival is the story of fanaticism and addiction and magic (or science? Magical science? Scientific magic?). The main character is Jamie, who first meets Rev. Jacobs when he is a young boy living in a small town with his parents and siblings. Rev. Jacobs and his young wife take over the struggling church in town, and turn it into a thriving congregation, complete with an active youth ministry. All of the young people in town love Rev. Jacobs and his beautiful, talented wife, and they are taken in by his adorable little boy. When tragedy strikes the Jacobs family, Rev. Jacobs preaches a sermon that gets him driven out of town.
Years later, Jamie is a strung-out rock guitarist who is one high away from being incarcerated or dead. When he stumbles upon the Rev. Jacobs at a carnival, he can barely believe what he's seeing. The former minister has taken his lifelong fascination with electricity and devised some truly amazing optical illusions. But that's not all Charles Jacobs has discovered. The man formerly known as Rev. Jacobs thinks he can help Jamie with his little addiction problem, but the help will come at a price that Jamie isn't sure he's willing to pay.
King himself famously dealt with an addiction to pain killers after a near-fatal car accident left him in near constant pain for years as he recovered. Jamie's drug addiction certainly mirrors his experience to a certain extent, but it is Rev. Jacob's addiction that is the truly frightening part of this story. While this story is not horror in the traditional sense, there is that element of the supernatural that infuses almost all of King's works in some way. This time the "magic" is presented in the guise of science that we don't yet understand, and highlights the dangers of playing around with natural forces without really understanding the possible consequences.
The story also explores the nature of faith, both in the opening section when Jamie is a child, and later in the book when the Rev. Jacobs becomes a faith healer. The power that Jacobs had was terrifying, but couched in the language and ritual of religion people were more than willing to be taken in. People who are desperately searching for an end to their fear, pain, and despair become easy marks for a con man. But was it a con? If people really were healed, did it matter where the power came from? When Jamie discovered that the people who were healed didn't always stay that way, he became determined to stop Jacobs. Determined, that is, until it was his own high school sweetheart who needed help. As usual, King shines a light on human nature in all of its flawed beauty.
Years later, Jamie is a strung-out rock guitarist who is one high away from being incarcerated or dead. When he stumbles upon the Rev. Jacobs at a carnival, he can barely believe what he's seeing. The former minister has taken his lifelong fascination with electricity and devised some truly amazing optical illusions. But that's not all Charles Jacobs has discovered. The man formerly known as Rev. Jacobs thinks he can help Jamie with his little addiction problem, but the help will come at a price that Jamie isn't sure he's willing to pay.
King himself famously dealt with an addiction to pain killers after a near-fatal car accident left him in near constant pain for years as he recovered. Jamie's drug addiction certainly mirrors his experience to a certain extent, but it is Rev. Jacob's addiction that is the truly frightening part of this story. While this story is not horror in the traditional sense, there is that element of the supernatural that infuses almost all of King's works in some way. This time the "magic" is presented in the guise of science that we don't yet understand, and highlights the dangers of playing around with natural forces without really understanding the possible consequences.
The story also explores the nature of faith, both in the opening section when Jamie is a child, and later in the book when the Rev. Jacobs becomes a faith healer. The power that Jacobs had was terrifying, but couched in the language and ritual of religion people were more than willing to be taken in. People who are desperately searching for an end to their fear, pain, and despair become easy marks for a con man. But was it a con? If people really were healed, did it matter where the power came from? When Jamie discovered that the people who were healed didn't always stay that way, he became determined to stop Jacobs. Determined, that is, until it was his own high school sweetheart who needed help. As usual, King shines a light on human nature in all of its flawed beauty.
Wednesday, May 07, 2014
...is about a corporation. That's right-not zombies or vampire or werewolves or serial killers. The most frightening book I've read all year-in fact, in the last several years-is about a technology company. Now, plenty of people are scared of technology, in the "I don't know how to work this" sort of way, but this fear goes right to the heart of so much of what is happening in our world right now regarding internet safety, social media, and privacy. This particular nightmare is brought to us by Dave Eggers in his 2013 book, The Circle.
The titular Circle is the largest and most powerful corporation in the world. Calling it a technology company
is a little like describing the Louvre as a building with some paintings on the walls. The Circle has their fingers in everything. Imagine if Mark Zuckerburg suddenly owned not just Facebook, but also Instagram, Ebay, Amazon, Twitter, and Google. The Circle has access to every post, comment, like and dislike (which they call smiles and frowns), customer review, photograph, document, and piece of electronically collected health information in the world. They also control most of the country's surveillance feeds, with an eye to attaining the information from every country in the world. They built this empire one piece at a time, adding features and combining services with the aim of making things more safe, efficient and convenient-at least, that's their stated aim. Their goal is something they call "completion"-that moment when every person on the planet is connected with every other person on the planet, and everyone on the planet knows what every other person in the planet is doing and thinking, all in real time. (Scared yet?)
The main character is Mae Holland, a young woman in her 20s who at the start of the novel is working at the utility company of hometown. Feeling discouraged, like her life essentially has no meaning, she is thrilled to be recruited by The Circle. After all, with their beautiful corporate campus, gobs of cash, and prestige, who wouldn't want to work for them. She goes to work in their customer service department, and quickly begins working her way up through the ranks of the company. Her friend Annie-a very important executive at The Circle-gives her a leg up whenever she can. As she takes on more responsibilities, she is given more and more "screens". She is expected to communicate with customers, answer/comment on people's posts and comments on The Circle's social media platforms (the Inner Circle and Outer Circle), answer endless survey questions designed to gauge consumer habits, and attend on-campus social events, all with the goal of increasing her participation rank, so that she can be given more responsibilities and more screens. (How 'bout now? Scared now?)
At one event, she meets a mysterious stranger named Kalder, who says he works for the company, but she can't find him in the staff directory, nor does she ever see him working on any projects. She feels very drawn to him, but there is something about him that she senses just isn't right? Is he a corporate spy? Will she get in trouble for being seen with him? Her life becomes less about her, and more about they ways in which she can help the company attain "completion". When strange things start to happen to her friends, she is troubled, but is always able to push away her doubts-usually by what I would call hypnotizing herself by spending hours on social media, "smiling" and "frowning" and "zinging" (their equivalent to tweeting).
Essentially, what makes this book terrifying is the fact that it is not at all implausible. This may technically be science fiction, in that the technologies that make The Circle's complete domination of every aspect of life have not all been developed yet, but they are all technologies that could exist. It would not surprise me if there are companies around the world experimenting with some of the very same concepts that The Circle has perfected in this book. And the arguments that The Circle used to infiltrate the private lives of every person, regardless of whether they use The Circle's social media or not, are ones that I can see swaying Americans now-in fact, they are arguments that do sway people now, arguments about curtailing civil liberties to "keep us safe" or to "expand human knowledge".
The most frightening part for me was the complete erosion of the separation of private and public spaces. The masterminds behind The Circle were able to convince the world that everyone has the right to ALL knowledge-even things that people would traditionally keep private. So not only can The Circle access the feeds from cameras placed all over the world, but so can everyone else. In true Brave New World fashion, they come up with some slogans for what they believe, the most pertinent one for this conversation being Privacy Equals Theft. People begin to feel that they have the right to know what everyone is thinking all of the time, because according to The Circle Secrets Equal Lies. It creates a society where everyone is constantly reaching out to everyone else, but no real connections are made. Personal communication and private relationships are replaced by smiles and frowns and comments on a newsfeed. And what does The Circle get for all of this knowledge? A way to monetize everything, a way to keep tabs on what people buy, who they spend time with, where they go...I sincerely hope that we NEVER end up living in the world of The Circle.
The titular Circle is the largest and most powerful corporation in the world. Calling it a technology company
is a little like describing the Louvre as a building with some paintings on the walls. The Circle has their fingers in everything. Imagine if Mark Zuckerburg suddenly owned not just Facebook, but also Instagram, Ebay, Amazon, Twitter, and Google. The Circle has access to every post, comment, like and dislike (which they call smiles and frowns), customer review, photograph, document, and piece of electronically collected health information in the world. They also control most of the country's surveillance feeds, with an eye to attaining the information from every country in the world. They built this empire one piece at a time, adding features and combining services with the aim of making things more safe, efficient and convenient-at least, that's their stated aim. Their goal is something they call "completion"-that moment when every person on the planet is connected with every other person on the planet, and everyone on the planet knows what every other person in the planet is doing and thinking, all in real time. (Scared yet?)
The main character is Mae Holland, a young woman in her 20s who at the start of the novel is working at the utility company of hometown. Feeling discouraged, like her life essentially has no meaning, she is thrilled to be recruited by The Circle. After all, with their beautiful corporate campus, gobs of cash, and prestige, who wouldn't want to work for them. She goes to work in their customer service department, and quickly begins working her way up through the ranks of the company. Her friend Annie-a very important executive at The Circle-gives her a leg up whenever she can. As she takes on more responsibilities, she is given more and more "screens". She is expected to communicate with customers, answer/comment on people's posts and comments on The Circle's social media platforms (the Inner Circle and Outer Circle), answer endless survey questions designed to gauge consumer habits, and attend on-campus social events, all with the goal of increasing her participation rank, so that she can be given more responsibilities and more screens. (How 'bout now? Scared now?)
At one event, she meets a mysterious stranger named Kalder, who says he works for the company, but she can't find him in the staff directory, nor does she ever see him working on any projects. She feels very drawn to him, but there is something about him that she senses just isn't right? Is he a corporate spy? Will she get in trouble for being seen with him? Her life becomes less about her, and more about they ways in which she can help the company attain "completion". When strange things start to happen to her friends, she is troubled, but is always able to push away her doubts-usually by what I would call hypnotizing herself by spending hours on social media, "smiling" and "frowning" and "zinging" (their equivalent to tweeting).
Essentially, what makes this book terrifying is the fact that it is not at all implausible. This may technically be science fiction, in that the technologies that make The Circle's complete domination of every aspect of life have not all been developed yet, but they are all technologies that could exist. It would not surprise me if there are companies around the world experimenting with some of the very same concepts that The Circle has perfected in this book. And the arguments that The Circle used to infiltrate the private lives of every person, regardless of whether they use The Circle's social media or not, are ones that I can see swaying Americans now-in fact, they are arguments that do sway people now, arguments about curtailing civil liberties to "keep us safe" or to "expand human knowledge".
The most frightening part for me was the complete erosion of the separation of private and public spaces. The masterminds behind The Circle were able to convince the world that everyone has the right to ALL knowledge-even things that people would traditionally keep private. So not only can The Circle access the feeds from cameras placed all over the world, but so can everyone else. In true Brave New World fashion, they come up with some slogans for what they believe, the most pertinent one for this conversation being Privacy Equals Theft. People begin to feel that they have the right to know what everyone is thinking all of the time, because according to The Circle Secrets Equal Lies. It creates a society where everyone is constantly reaching out to everyone else, but no real connections are made. Personal communication and private relationships are replaced by smiles and frowns and comments on a newsfeed. And what does The Circle get for all of this knowledge? A way to monetize everything, a way to keep tabs on what people buy, who they spend time with, where they go...I sincerely hope that we NEVER end up living in the world of The Circle.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
This weekend during youth group at church, my youth played a game where everyone writes a question on a piece of paper, then we crumple them up into balls and have a "snowball" fight. Everyone reads their question aloud and answers it. Some of the questions are silly, but some of the questions really cause the person to think, and can start some great discussions. Here is the question that struck me Sunday morning-"If you could kill someone with the power of your mind, and no one would know, would you do it?"
This question led to a discussion of Unitarian Universalist values, as the activity is supposed to ultimately do. But it also led to a discussion of whether it is possible to change history. If you add the ability to time travel to the ability to kill people with your mind, many of my youth said that maybe going back and killing Hitler as an infant would be an acceptable use of that power. Because you already know what evil he created, and you would have a responsibility to stop it. This exact idea is the central focus of Stephen King's latest tome, 11/22/63.
In the book, small town high school teacher named Jake Epping is floating through a rather drab existence. Newly single, he spends his days teaching, grading papers, and eating his meals at a local diner. One day the diner's owner and chief fry cook, A,l shares a secret with Jake-in the back of his store is an unexplained tear in the fabric of time. Step through that tear and it takes you back to the same exact time on the same exact day in 1958. No matter how long you stay or what you do while you are there, stepping through the tear resets any effect you may have had on the past. Since Al discovered this mysterious tear, he's been travelling back and forth frequently. His last trip lasted four years-because he had a mission, one that a lung cancer diagnosis is now forcing him to push on Jake. His mission-to stop the assassination of JFK by Lee Harvey Oswald, thereby stopping one of the most turbulent times in American history. At least, that's this theory...
What follows is a loooooong history lesson about Lee Harvey Oswald. Jake studies Oswald like a scientist, trying to discern what kind of man he was, what kind of husband he was, whether he did, in fact act alone...He follows his movements, and as a result we learn a lot about the man who shot Kennedy.
At 849 pages, this is one of King's doorstops of a book, but unlike Under the Dome, which I thought could be shortened by a hundred pages or so, I was riveted every moment of this one. Maybe it's the historical fiction lover in me, but I actually liked the minute descriptions of Oswald's life, and King provides a personal storyline for Jake that is mildly predictable but very engaging. Not horror by any means, this genre bending book-part historical fiction part science fiction-evokes the optimism of mid-20th Century America and the tension that builds as Jake gets closer to his goal. And if he succeeds, will things really be better? Consider this a novel of unintended consequences...
This question led to a discussion of Unitarian Universalist values, as the activity is supposed to ultimately do. But it also led to a discussion of whether it is possible to change history. If you add the ability to time travel to the ability to kill people with your mind, many of my youth said that maybe going back and killing Hitler as an infant would be an acceptable use of that power. Because you already know what evil he created, and you would have a responsibility to stop it. This exact idea is the central focus of Stephen King's latest tome, 11/22/63.
In the book, small town high school teacher named Jake Epping is floating through a rather drab existence. Newly single, he spends his days teaching, grading papers, and eating his meals at a local diner. One day the diner's owner and chief fry cook, A,l shares a secret with Jake-in the back of his store is an unexplained tear in the fabric of time. Step through that tear and it takes you back to the same exact time on the same exact day in 1958. No matter how long you stay or what you do while you are there, stepping through the tear resets any effect you may have had on the past. Since Al discovered this mysterious tear, he's been travelling back and forth frequently. His last trip lasted four years-because he had a mission, one that a lung cancer diagnosis is now forcing him to push on Jake. His mission-to stop the assassination of JFK by Lee Harvey Oswald, thereby stopping one of the most turbulent times in American history. At least, that's this theory...
What follows is a loooooong history lesson about Lee Harvey Oswald. Jake studies Oswald like a scientist, trying to discern what kind of man he was, what kind of husband he was, whether he did, in fact act alone...He follows his movements, and as a result we learn a lot about the man who shot Kennedy.
At 849 pages, this is one of King's doorstops of a book, but unlike Under the Dome, which I thought could be shortened by a hundred pages or so, I was riveted every moment of this one. Maybe it's the historical fiction lover in me, but I actually liked the minute descriptions of Oswald's life, and King provides a personal storyline for Jake that is mildly predictable but very engaging. Not horror by any means, this genre bending book-part historical fiction part science fiction-evokes the optimism of mid-20th Century America and the tension that builds as Jake gets closer to his goal. And if he succeeds, will things really be better? Consider this a novel of unintended consequences...
Saturday, August 13, 2011
As a science fiction fan, I have considered it a personal failing that I had never read any Kurt Vonnegut. As a pacifist, the fact that I had never read Slaughterhouse Five made that failing sting a little more. I wish I could say that reading this book was worth all of the years of self-recrimination. I wish I could say that I finished it. But the only thing I can say with any certainty is that I didn't get it.
I won't say that I don't understand why this book is considered a classic of science fiction specifically and literature generally. Vonnegut's writing is by turns funny, poignant, frightening, or evocative. Slaughterhouse Five tells the story of Billy Pilgrim, an accidental soldier who is captured by the Germans in 1945 and taken to Dresden. He is there during the Dresden bombings, when the Allies bombed the non-military city of Dresden and killed over 100,000 people. Vonnegut himself was a German prisoner of war who lived through the Dresden bombing and its aftermath. But this is not in fact the major event of Billy's life. Billy becomes "unstuck in time", moving through his own lifeline from prisoner to wealthy optometrist to alien zoo exhibit...yes, I said alien exhibit. Because the other major fact of Billy's life is that he was abducted by aliens on the night of this daughter's wedding.
OK, I only know the last part because I read the SparkNotes for the complete novel. Because I couldn't finish the book. Even with the excellent writing, I could not get into this story. It wasn't the writing, or the war, or the time travel, or the alien abduction. The only explanation I can come up with is that my brain just doesn't think the way that Vonnegut's does. Even though I already knew the destination theme-wise, I just couldn't follow where Vonnegut was leading. Despite my natural inclination to agree with the book's anti-war message, I wasn't sure how Billy Pilgrim traveling through time and being abducted by aliens was supposed to articulate that message. Of course, had I finished it, maybe all would become clear. And that's on me. I guess I'll just have to continue living my life as a science fiction fan who hasn't read Vonnegut. But this time I'll forgive myself.
I won't say that I don't understand why this book is considered a classic of science fiction specifically and literature generally. Vonnegut's writing is by turns funny, poignant, frightening, or evocative. Slaughterhouse Five tells the story of Billy Pilgrim, an accidental soldier who is captured by the Germans in 1945 and taken to Dresden. He is there during the Dresden bombings, when the Allies bombed the non-military city of Dresden and killed over 100,000 people. Vonnegut himself was a German prisoner of war who lived through the Dresden bombing and its aftermath. But this is not in fact the major event of Billy's life. Billy becomes "unstuck in time", moving through his own lifeline from prisoner to wealthy optometrist to alien zoo exhibit...yes, I said alien exhibit. Because the other major fact of Billy's life is that he was abducted by aliens on the night of this daughter's wedding.
OK, I only know the last part because I read the SparkNotes for the complete novel. Because I couldn't finish the book. Even with the excellent writing, I could not get into this story. It wasn't the writing, or the war, or the time travel, or the alien abduction. The only explanation I can come up with is that my brain just doesn't think the way that Vonnegut's does. Even though I already knew the destination theme-wise, I just couldn't follow where Vonnegut was leading. Despite my natural inclination to agree with the book's anti-war message, I wasn't sure how Billy Pilgrim traveling through time and being abducted by aliens was supposed to articulate that message. Of course, had I finished it, maybe all would become clear. And that's on me. I guess I'll just have to continue living my life as a science fiction fan who hasn't read Vonnegut. But this time I'll forgive myself.
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
Any long time readers of this blog know my deep respect for Octavia Butler. She takes the genre of science fiction and turns it into literature that not even the most pernicious lit snob can say is anything other than high quality. Kindred, Butler's best known work, is perhaps the clearest example I've yet read of the way that she combines issues of race, gender, and class into her work.
Kindred is the story of Dana, a black woman living in California in the 1970s. Through some process never fully explained, Dana is transported back to the early 1800s whenever Rufus, her white great-great-great-great (you get the idea) grandfather is on the verge of getting himself killed. Unfortunately for Dana, this unknown ancestor is also the son of a slave-owner in Maryland. This means that once she is back in time with him, she must adjust her life to the customs of the time, acting the part of a slave. As Dana travels back and forth between the past and the present, she learns more about what it meant to be black and powerless in the United States than she ever wanted to. What was abstract to her and her white husband in 1976 becomes terrifyingly concrete in the world of 1830s Maryland.
Kindred is a bit of a cross-over novel, as the science fiction aspect of it is not nearly as important as the story itself. Perhaps that's why it is her most popular novel, because you don't have to be a science fiction fan to enjoy it. But I suspect it has more to do with the examination of race and slavery than with a genre preference. Through Dana's experiences, Butler shows the brutality and cruelty of slavery. Dana, with her 20th century moral superiority, begins by "acting" as a slave, but after being whipped, beaten, forced into the fields, and nearly raped, she comes to realize how easily people can be made slaves. Take away a person's humanity, and they will believe they are less than human. Value a person only because of the work that they can do or the price that they will fetch, and they will start to define themselves that way, even contribute to their own captivity.
It is this idea that is perhaps the most striking in Butler's work, especially given the 1979 release date. That close to the heyday of the civil rights movement, it must have been a risk for Butler to create the characters of Rufus, who while not likeable does at least become understandable as the slave owner's son, and eventual slave owner himself. Even though Dana hates what he does, she can't quite bring herself to hate him, though he certainly gives her ample reasons to do so. But Dana's relationship with Rufus, and the various attitudes of other slaves on the plantation, demonstrate that slavery and people's attitudes towards it were not as clear-cut as history books would make them out to be. To be sure, the institution of slavery is abhorrent, but those living within it sometimes had to do things that should not necessarily be judged by 20th (or 21st) century standards. Butler clearly shows how insidious the effects of living under such a brutal system can be, from the need to run away again and again, even after the most horrific beatings, to the need to try and secure your place by serving up another slave's transgressions to your masters, even though you know what the consequences for them will be. In the end, Dana is able to retain enough of her 20th century self to free herself from the bondage imposed on her by the involuntary time travel, but not without scars, both physical and emotional, that will leave a permanent impression on her, and on the reader.
Kindred is the story of Dana, a black woman living in California in the 1970s. Through some process never fully explained, Dana is transported back to the early 1800s whenever Rufus, her white great-great-great-great (you get the idea) grandfather is on the verge of getting himself killed. Unfortunately for Dana, this unknown ancestor is also the son of a slave-owner in Maryland. This means that once she is back in time with him, she must adjust her life to the customs of the time, acting the part of a slave. As Dana travels back and forth between the past and the present, she learns more about what it meant to be black and powerless in the United States than she ever wanted to. What was abstract to her and her white husband in 1976 becomes terrifyingly concrete in the world of 1830s Maryland.
Kindred is a bit of a cross-over novel, as the science fiction aspect of it is not nearly as important as the story itself. Perhaps that's why it is her most popular novel, because you don't have to be a science fiction fan to enjoy it. But I suspect it has more to do with the examination of race and slavery than with a genre preference. Through Dana's experiences, Butler shows the brutality and cruelty of slavery. Dana, with her 20th century moral superiority, begins by "acting" as a slave, but after being whipped, beaten, forced into the fields, and nearly raped, she comes to realize how easily people can be made slaves. Take away a person's humanity, and they will believe they are less than human. Value a person only because of the work that they can do or the price that they will fetch, and they will start to define themselves that way, even contribute to their own captivity.
It is this idea that is perhaps the most striking in Butler's work, especially given the 1979 release date. That close to the heyday of the civil rights movement, it must have been a risk for Butler to create the characters of Rufus, who while not likeable does at least become understandable as the slave owner's son, and eventual slave owner himself. Even though Dana hates what he does, she can't quite bring herself to hate him, though he certainly gives her ample reasons to do so. But Dana's relationship with Rufus, and the various attitudes of other slaves on the plantation, demonstrate that slavery and people's attitudes towards it were not as clear-cut as history books would make them out to be. To be sure, the institution of slavery is abhorrent, but those living within it sometimes had to do things that should not necessarily be judged by 20th (or 21st) century standards. Butler clearly shows how insidious the effects of living under such a brutal system can be, from the need to run away again and again, even after the most horrific beatings, to the need to try and secure your place by serving up another slave's transgressions to your masters, even though you know what the consequences for them will be. In the end, Dana is able to retain enough of her 20th century self to free herself from the bondage imposed on her by the involuntary time travel, but not without scars, both physical and emotional, that will leave a permanent impression on her, and on the reader.
Friday, June 03, 2011
I was not prepared. When I decided to read Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro, I did so as a way to give the author a second try. I have tried to read The Remains of the Day back in college, and I found the tight, closely-controlled writing difficult, and not in a good way. When I saw the movie they made from the book, I realized why it was written the way that it was. But I couldn't get through it. When I started to see Never Let Me Go all over the blogosphere, I had to work myself up for another try. I try not to read too many reviews of the books I'm going to read before I read them-I don't want someone else's opinion to blur my own-so I really didn't know much about the book except that I had tried to read this author before and failed.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that this book is about as far away from the content of The Remains of the Day as it is possible to get and still be the same form of media. Never Let Me Go is the story of Kath, Tommy, and Ruth, three students at a boarding school in England, which you very quickly realize is not your typical boarding school. The students are clones, created specifically to become organ donors. Their teachers try to shield them as best they can from the inevitability of their fate, but each in their turn goes off to be a carer-someone who helps donors recover-until it is their turn to be cut up for parts.
Given the subject matter, you might assume that this book is a treatise on medical ethics or social justice, but Ishiguro uses this rather interesting setting to tell a coming-of-age story. The story is told with Kath as narrator, and it opens with her getting ready to retire from being a carer. The story is told as memory, in Hansel and Gretl fashion-Ishiguor leaves a trail of crumbs, hints of what is really going on behind the placid boarding school setting, tidbits that make it impossible to stop reading until you figure out what is going on. Everything is just slightly askew in this book-it's like the real world slipped sideways just a bit.
Ishiguro begins with Kath explaining her retirement from being a carer, though at the time you have no idea what that actually means. What this narrative structure does is allow the reader to spend the bulk of the novel pondering the relationships the characters have to each other, rather than waiting for them to escape from their predicament. While the fact of their creation and eventual destruction is always below the surface, there are many things in Ruth, Kath, and Tommy that are familiar. First love, jealousy, betrayal, insecurity-all pretty universal elements of a classic coming-of-age story. By the time Ishiguro finally gets around to giving you enough information about the donation program to figure out what's been going on, it's practically the end of the book. Only then do you realize that what you have been reading is not just your ordinary teenage love story, but a story about what it means to be human. If clones can love and hurt and feel anger and fear, then what separates them from the "natural" people who created them?
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that this book is about as far away from the content of The Remains of the Day as it is possible to get and still be the same form of media. Never Let Me Go is the story of Kath, Tommy, and Ruth, three students at a boarding school in England, which you very quickly realize is not your typical boarding school. The students are clones, created specifically to become organ donors. Their teachers try to shield them as best they can from the inevitability of their fate, but each in their turn goes off to be a carer-someone who helps donors recover-until it is their turn to be cut up for parts.
Given the subject matter, you might assume that this book is a treatise on medical ethics or social justice, but Ishiguro uses this rather interesting setting to tell a coming-of-age story. The story is told with Kath as narrator, and it opens with her getting ready to retire from being a carer. The story is told as memory, in Hansel and Gretl fashion-Ishiguor leaves a trail of crumbs, hints of what is really going on behind the placid boarding school setting, tidbits that make it impossible to stop reading until you figure out what is going on. Everything is just slightly askew in this book-it's like the real world slipped sideways just a bit.
Ishiguro begins with Kath explaining her retirement from being a carer, though at the time you have no idea what that actually means. What this narrative structure does is allow the reader to spend the bulk of the novel pondering the relationships the characters have to each other, rather than waiting for them to escape from their predicament. While the fact of their creation and eventual destruction is always below the surface, there are many things in Ruth, Kath, and Tommy that are familiar. First love, jealousy, betrayal, insecurity-all pretty universal elements of a classic coming-of-age story. By the time Ishiguro finally gets around to giving you enough information about the donation program to figure out what's been going on, it's practically the end of the book. Only then do you realize that what you have been reading is not just your ordinary teenage love story, but a story about what it means to be human. If clones can love and hurt and feel anger and fear, then what separates them from the "natural" people who created them?
Sunday, May 22, 2011
It has become more and more obvious to me, in part thanks to a thought-provoking series of posts from The Reading Ape, that there is a very clear culture of reading among serious readers, and a strong subculture specific to book bloggers. We have our own jargon, common practices, etiquette...all of it built on a foundation of love for books and storytelling. So it comes as no surprise to me that I had to find the book blogger community to find Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next series. Fforde's books are a treasure trove of literary references and inside jokes any serious reader, especially of classic literature, should feel right at home in what is a decidedly strange world.
I just finished The Eyre Affair. It is the novel that introduced Thursday Next, a SpecOps agent on the LiteraTec squad-that is, the group that is responsible for protecting the great books from harm. While this includes rather ordinary things like verifying manuscripts for authenticity, it also includes some decidedly unusual things-like traveling into the book in pursuit of an evil villain out to destroy the great works of literature. The Eyre Affair is a rather strange combination of literary discussion and science fiction, all rolled up into a thriller format.
I will admit that the structure of the novel didn't always sit well with me, and I'll have to read more to see if the rules that govern his particular universe stay consistent. There are a lot of moving parts in this novel-Thursday herself and her past, a time-traveling father, a giant corporation (named Goliath-not the most subtle name I'll admit) that secretly runs things behind the scene, and a bullet-proof super-villain who can't be seen on camera and can apparently change the molecular structure of glass. Intrigued yet?
What I loved about this novel is the creation of a world where literature is so important to everyone that an entire arm of the government is dedicated to it. In Fforde's world, the Marlovians and Oxfordians feel so strongly about their positions they go door to door like Jehovah's Witnesses trying to get converts, as though Shakespearean authorship study is a religion (frankly, there's just as much evidence for some of the authorship theories as their is for some religious beliefs, namely not much) Some literary movements actually took up arms to fight for their literary theory, though that does seem like taking it a bit too far. Imagine a world where people cared that much about reading and books. That's not to say I thought this book was without its problems-the characters were not that well developed, and the action jumped around a bit. But as fun, escapist reading for readers, this book was a winner.
I just finished The Eyre Affair. It is the novel that introduced Thursday Next, a SpecOps agent on the LiteraTec squad-that is, the group that is responsible for protecting the great books from harm. While this includes rather ordinary things like verifying manuscripts for authenticity, it also includes some decidedly unusual things-like traveling into the book in pursuit of an evil villain out to destroy the great works of literature. The Eyre Affair is a rather strange combination of literary discussion and science fiction, all rolled up into a thriller format.
I will admit that the structure of the novel didn't always sit well with me, and I'll have to read more to see if the rules that govern his particular universe stay consistent. There are a lot of moving parts in this novel-Thursday herself and her past, a time-traveling father, a giant corporation (named Goliath-not the most subtle name I'll admit) that secretly runs things behind the scene, and a bullet-proof super-villain who can't be seen on camera and can apparently change the molecular structure of glass. Intrigued yet?
What I loved about this novel is the creation of a world where literature is so important to everyone that an entire arm of the government is dedicated to it. In Fforde's world, the Marlovians and Oxfordians feel so strongly about their positions they go door to door like Jehovah's Witnesses trying to get converts, as though Shakespearean authorship study is a religion (frankly, there's just as much evidence for some of the authorship theories as their is for some religious beliefs, namely not much) Some literary movements actually took up arms to fight for their literary theory, though that does seem like taking it a bit too far. Imagine a world where people cared that much about reading and books. That's not to say I thought this book was without its problems-the characters were not that well developed, and the action jumped around a bit. But as fun, escapist reading for readers, this book was a winner.
Monday, February 07, 2011
What would you do to ensure the survival of the human race? What would you sacrifice? Your money? Your freedom? Your life? Most of us probably would if we were up against it. But what about the lives of our children? What if the survival of the species meant giving up your children to violence, war, and possible death?
It is exactly this rather sticky ethical question that Ender's Game, by Orson Scott Card, takes on. Well, that and a few others, like the morality of xenocide and government manipulation. That's a lot for what is essentially a young adult novel, but Card manages it by creating a version of Earth that is both alien and somehow familiar.
Ender's Game is the story of Ender Wiggins, a genius among geniuses. Bred specifically for intelligence and cunning, Ender is the last, best hope for humanity in their war against the buggers, and alien race that attacked the Earth not once, but twice, in an attempt to colonize it. Sounds like the basic plot of just about any science fiction novel. The twist? Ender is only six years old. He is taken from his family and sent to Battle School, where he learns to fight in mock battles with other cadets. But the real plan for Ender involves him learning to be very good at the game that the military has devised to develop his skills as a strategist. At the age of 10 he is sent to Command School, where he trains with the person who defeated the buggers during the last invasion. As the games become more challenging and Ender begins to collapse under the weight of everyone's expectations, the military's manipulation of him leads to devastating consequences-for the fleet, for the buggers, and ultimately for Ender.
Card's writing in Ender's Game is almost clinical, but that just adds to the "otherness" feeling that you get from the characters. Ender and his siblings-both of whom washed out of the Battle School program-are just as brilliant as he is. Peter, his older brother, washed out for being a ruthless little sociopath whose tendency towards violence and power was not tempered by empathy. Valentine, his sister, washed out for the opposite reason-too much empathy, not enough ruthlessness. The military hopes it is Ender who will present the perfect blend of these two traits-calculating and violent enough to lead a war, but empathetic enough not to kill unnecessarily. And while you feel sorry for Ender, he is certainly not perfect. He is violent, and emotionally distant, and ruthless when provoked. But how much can be blamed on a child, when from birth he was trained for war.
Given the fact that there are children all over Africa and Asia being conscripted as soldiers and made to fight right now, the premise feels more possible than a science fiction novel often does. Ender does his job, and he does it well-but there is a price. I will admit to being surprised to find that the final "games" were real battles. I guess since I knew there were sequels I assumed the war continued. Despite being manipulated into xenocide, Ender feels crushing guilt. While an argument can be made that it wasn't his "fault", it doesn't begin to assuage the remorse he feels for that and so many other things that were kept from him during his time at the school. And after losing his family and never being allowed to have real friends, he loses his home. Concerned that he will be used by the various governments to defeat the other governments, he is forbidden ever to return to Earth. And so the rest of the world blithely goes on with their politics-and Ender pays the price.
It is exactly this rather sticky ethical question that Ender's Game, by Orson Scott Card, takes on. Well, that and a few others, like the morality of xenocide and government manipulation. That's a lot for what is essentially a young adult novel, but Card manages it by creating a version of Earth that is both alien and somehow familiar.
Ender's Game is the story of Ender Wiggins, a genius among geniuses. Bred specifically for intelligence and cunning, Ender is the last, best hope for humanity in their war against the buggers, and alien race that attacked the Earth not once, but twice, in an attempt to colonize it. Sounds like the basic plot of just about any science fiction novel. The twist? Ender is only six years old. He is taken from his family and sent to Battle School, where he learns to fight in mock battles with other cadets. But the real plan for Ender involves him learning to be very good at the game that the military has devised to develop his skills as a strategist. At the age of 10 he is sent to Command School, where he trains with the person who defeated the buggers during the last invasion. As the games become more challenging and Ender begins to collapse under the weight of everyone's expectations, the military's manipulation of him leads to devastating consequences-for the fleet, for the buggers, and ultimately for Ender.
Card's writing in Ender's Game is almost clinical, but that just adds to the "otherness" feeling that you get from the characters. Ender and his siblings-both of whom washed out of the Battle School program-are just as brilliant as he is. Peter, his older brother, washed out for being a ruthless little sociopath whose tendency towards violence and power was not tempered by empathy. Valentine, his sister, washed out for the opposite reason-too much empathy, not enough ruthlessness. The military hopes it is Ender who will present the perfect blend of these two traits-calculating and violent enough to lead a war, but empathetic enough not to kill unnecessarily. And while you feel sorry for Ender, he is certainly not perfect. He is violent, and emotionally distant, and ruthless when provoked. But how much can be blamed on a child, when from birth he was trained for war.
Given the fact that there are children all over Africa and Asia being conscripted as soldiers and made to fight right now, the premise feels more possible than a science fiction novel often does. Ender does his job, and he does it well-but there is a price. I will admit to being surprised to find that the final "games" were real battles. I guess since I knew there were sequels I assumed the war continued. Despite being manipulated into xenocide, Ender feels crushing guilt. While an argument can be made that it wasn't his "fault", it doesn't begin to assuage the remorse he feels for that and so many other things that were kept from him during his time at the school. And after losing his family and never being allowed to have real friends, he loses his home. Concerned that he will be used by the various governments to defeat the other governments, he is forbidden ever to return to Earth. And so the rest of the world blithely goes on with their politics-and Ender pays the price.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Well, folks, with the Literary Blog Hop only happening every other week, I've decided to join Crazy-for-Books Book Blogger Hop on the off weeks for LBH. Thanks to both The Blue Bookcase and Crazy-for-Books for hosting these events. I've certainly found plenty of great bloggers out there as a result.
This week's question is:
This week's question is:
Why do you read the genre that you do? What draws you to it?
First things first-we need to ad an "s" to that word genre. I read many genres, and all for different reasons. Since I love lists, let's do this in list format.
1. Contemporary Fiction-I read contemporary fiction because it says something about the state of our world and society RIGHT NOW. One of the reasons I like Jodi Picoult's books is because through her (rather exaggerated) plot lines, she does explore social issues facing us in America today. Medical ethics, school shootings, religion vs. secularism, issues of family and society-contemporary fiction, while not always the most profound, can usually be relied on to be thought provoking.
2. Literary Fiction-I read literary fiction because it says something about humanity, which is usually transcendent of time or place. Unless it shows how humans are affected by time and place. At any rate, sometimes my brain needs more sustenance than others.
3. Science Fiction-Hated science, love science fiction. The best science fiction writers say something about the human experience in their work, and they tend to be rather action packed for those times when I want something fun and exciting.
4. Fantasy-I have been a fantasy fan since I read the Narnia books in sixth grade. I was given The Wishstone of Shannarah in middle school, and I was hooked. For a while in high school that was pretty much all I read.I don't read as much now as used to, but I'm still quite fond of mythical lands full of unusual races. I think this is why I like role playing games like Final Fantasy and Fable so much. It's like I'm in the story.
5. Feminist Fiction: Ummm....because I'm a feminist! Toni Morrison, Alica Walker, Margaret Atwood, Sheri Tepper, Sylvia Plath, Marge Piercy, Octavia Butler...I feel empowered just typing their names.
6. Mystery/Thrillers: They are fun, and usually easy, and often have engaging recurring characters that I enjoy reading about over time. Also, because my mother reads them and gives me all of her book when she's done with them.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
If there are two things that Stephen King knows, it's character and setting. Despite the bizarre situations that he places them in, his characters usually feel completely authentic. In fact, I think that his real talent as a writer is imagining what the average person would do when confronted with the impossible. In that sense, Under the Dome represents the most obvious example of what he has spent a career writing about. He does nothing so well as place his characters under the microscope to see what they will do in in the most trying of circumstances.
Imagine that your entire town is suddenly cut off from the rest of the world by an impermeable, impenetrable barrier. Nothing can go in or out. In an instant, you become just one creature in a very large terrarium. That is exactly what happens to the small Maine town of Chester Mills. As the government outside the dome tries to figure out where it came from and how to get rid of it, the residents of The Mills go about the business of figuring out how to survive their captivity. In classic King style, there is the corrupt town leader, the drifter with a past, the good-hearted average guy, the strong, feisty woman (in this case, the owner of the town paper), and a cast of townspeople (good, bad, or a little of both) who make up this particular microcosm of America. If I thought about it long enough, I could probably match every main character from Under the Dome with their counterpart in The Stand (my favorite King book by a green mile!). What makes this familiar cast work time after time is the fact that most of us know someone exactly like them. The power struggle unfolds with a Lord of the Flies inevitability, with some people rising to the occasion, and others showing their true, evil nature.
My one criticism of this book is its length. I'm not averse to a 1000+ page book, if all 1000+ pages are integral to moving the story along. However, the middle 400 pages or so of this particular tome dragged. I suppose when you have a story with this many moving parts (there are something like 20 important characters, with many more minor characters), you run the risk of getting bogged down in each individual storyline. In the end, however, it was worth it. The last 100 pages were fast-paced and exciting. And in an example of another thing I love about King's writing, there are no safe characters. This gives his writing a delicious unpredictability. But, satisfactorily, the truly bad guys almost always get what's coming to them.
Imagine that your entire town is suddenly cut off from the rest of the world by an impermeable, impenetrable barrier. Nothing can go in or out. In an instant, you become just one creature in a very large terrarium. That is exactly what happens to the small Maine town of Chester Mills. As the government outside the dome tries to figure out where it came from and how to get rid of it, the residents of The Mills go about the business of figuring out how to survive their captivity. In classic King style, there is the corrupt town leader, the drifter with a past, the good-hearted average guy, the strong, feisty woman (in this case, the owner of the town paper), and a cast of townspeople (good, bad, or a little of both) who make up this particular microcosm of America. If I thought about it long enough, I could probably match every main character from Under the Dome with their counterpart in The Stand (my favorite King book by a green mile!). What makes this familiar cast work time after time is the fact that most of us know someone exactly like them. The power struggle unfolds with a Lord of the Flies inevitability, with some people rising to the occasion, and others showing their true, evil nature.
My one criticism of this book is its length. I'm not averse to a 1000+ page book, if all 1000+ pages are integral to moving the story along. However, the middle 400 pages or so of this particular tome dragged. I suppose when you have a story with this many moving parts (there are something like 20 important characters, with many more minor characters), you run the risk of getting bogged down in each individual storyline. In the end, however, it was worth it. The last 100 pages were fast-paced and exciting. And in an example of another thing I love about King's writing, there are no safe characters. This gives his writing a delicious unpredictability. But, satisfactorily, the truly bad guys almost always get what's coming to them.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Patternmaster is the last book in story-time in the Patternist series by Octavia E. Butler, but the first of her novels to actually be published. I find that fact astonishing on a couple of levels-first, because the book clearly mentions "past" events in the world of the characters that Butler had not in fact written yet, and because without the other books as backstory I'm not sure how an editor understood it enough to publish it.
Patternmaster tells the story of Teray, son of the current Patternmaster, the one person who hold the Pattern of thought connecting every Patternist on Earth. The Patternmaster is the strongest of the Patternists, and his or her strength is what controls their society. Without a Patternmaster the Patternists would not be able to live together without eventually killing each other. Occupying the planet along with the Patternists are the Clayarks, human mutants who carry the only disease that can kill a Patternist, who can heal themselves. Teray, just out of school, is tricked into becoming the slave of a brother he never knew he had-as Teray is the son of the current Patternmaster, he is a threat to his big brother's quest to take control of the Pattern. When Teray tries to escape, his brother hunts for him, causing a showdown that leads to major changes for the Pattern.
The fact that Butler saw her story so clearly that she could mention past events in the arc of the story that were actually still in her future is remarkable. I'm not talking about rather general statements that could be expanded on later, but specifics, like where the Clayark disease came from and who killed the being who bred the first Patternist. Considering that it took Butler eight years to finish the books in this series, that is a long time to keep specific details in mind.
But more remarkable is that this novel got published at all, especially since it is her first. While the story is fast paced, and the characters are interesting, if I hadn't read about Doro and Anyanwu, or the Clay's Ark mission, or the creation of the Pattern, I don't know if I would have understood half of it. This novel also doesn't carry the usual social commentary that I've found in Butler's books. It does explore the idea of morality, in that the Patternists had a definite sense of morality that was completely different than ours. Does that mean morality is relative? It also explores the idea of power being a corrupting influence, and yet every character in the novel is seeking it in some way, whether it is the power to make their own choices or power over others.
I'm glad that I decided to read the books in the order of the story, rather than the order of their publication. I don't mind non-linear narrative, but I think reading Patternmaster first would have left me without the strong sense of attachment to the story that I got from starting with Wild Seed.
Patternmaster tells the story of Teray, son of the current Patternmaster, the one person who hold the Pattern of thought connecting every Patternist on Earth. The Patternmaster is the strongest of the Patternists, and his or her strength is what controls their society. Without a Patternmaster the Patternists would not be able to live together without eventually killing each other. Occupying the planet along with the Patternists are the Clayarks, human mutants who carry the only disease that can kill a Patternist, who can heal themselves. Teray, just out of school, is tricked into becoming the slave of a brother he never knew he had-as Teray is the son of the current Patternmaster, he is a threat to his big brother's quest to take control of the Pattern. When Teray tries to escape, his brother hunts for him, causing a showdown that leads to major changes for the Pattern.
The fact that Butler saw her story so clearly that she could mention past events in the arc of the story that were actually still in her future is remarkable. I'm not talking about rather general statements that could be expanded on later, but specifics, like where the Clayark disease came from and who killed the being who bred the first Patternist. Considering that it took Butler eight years to finish the books in this series, that is a long time to keep specific details in mind.
But more remarkable is that this novel got published at all, especially since it is her first. While the story is fast paced, and the characters are interesting, if I hadn't read about Doro and Anyanwu, or the Clay's Ark mission, or the creation of the Pattern, I don't know if I would have understood half of it. This novel also doesn't carry the usual social commentary that I've found in Butler's books. It does explore the idea of morality, in that the Patternists had a definite sense of morality that was completely different than ours. Does that mean morality is relative? It also explores the idea of power being a corrupting influence, and yet every character in the novel is seeking it in some way, whether it is the power to make their own choices or power over others.
I'm glad that I decided to read the books in the order of the story, rather than the order of their publication. I don't mind non-linear narrative, but I think reading Patternmaster first would have left me without the strong sense of attachment to the story that I got from starting with Wild Seed.
Friday, October 08, 2010
It only took me three weeks, but I finally finished a book! So I guess you could say I was the wicked little monkey! I sure felt supremely slackerish in the reading department. But the title of this post has more to do the the novel, Bad Monkeys, by Matt Ruff, than with my own lack of reading achievement in the month of September.
Bad Monkeys is the story of Jane Charlotte. Jane has been arrested for murder, and during her interrogation in the psych ward she reveals that she actually works for a super secret organization called Bad Monkeys, whose sole purpose is to track down and stop evildoers by any means necessary. If all else fails, it is Bad Monkeys' job to assassinate the evildoer. No one has heard of Bad Monkeys, who have the ability to track our every move. You know all of those rock posters you had on your wall as a teen-the eyes on the posters were actually spying on you. The books you read-the spines transit information to the organization. Even the money you spend tell them where you are and what you are doing. Trouble is, there is no way to verify Jane's story. Of course, she says that's because the organization can change any record, erase any tape, falsify any video-basically they can control everything we see and hear. So, is Jane really an agent of good in the form of a Bad Monkeys assassin, or is she delusional?
This book is quirky and well-paced and fun, despite the sometimes horrific content. I mean, Jane kills people who are evil-many of the characters are not exactly likeable. By the end I wanted Bad Monkeys to exist-though the Big Brother aspect of it was pretty frightening. And I wanted Jane to be good. Throughout the novel she struggles with her own evil, and in the end that seems to be the message Matt Ruff is trying to get across, at least in part. All of us have the capacity for good or evil, and it is our choices that determine whether we are on the side of right, or whether we are a bad monkey.
I realized after I finished Bad Monkeys that Ruff had written another novel that I found really quirky and fascinating, Set This House in Order. It ist he story of Andy Gage, the public face of a mind with multiple personalities. He is integrated enough to work designing virtual reality environments. At work he meets Penny, another multiple personality who needs Andy's help. The novel is engaging right from the start, and while I don't necessarily believe in the multiple personality disorder as a real condition, I do think that MPD as a mechanism for showing the multiple sides of our psyche and the conflicts they can create within us was pretty genius!
Bad Monkeys is the story of Jane Charlotte. Jane has been arrested for murder, and during her interrogation in the psych ward she reveals that she actually works for a super secret organization called Bad Monkeys, whose sole purpose is to track down and stop evildoers by any means necessary. If all else fails, it is Bad Monkeys' job to assassinate the evildoer. No one has heard of Bad Monkeys, who have the ability to track our every move. You know all of those rock posters you had on your wall as a teen-the eyes on the posters were actually spying on you. The books you read-the spines transit information to the organization. Even the money you spend tell them where you are and what you are doing. Trouble is, there is no way to verify Jane's story. Of course, she says that's because the organization can change any record, erase any tape, falsify any video-basically they can control everything we see and hear. So, is Jane really an agent of good in the form of a Bad Monkeys assassin, or is she delusional?
This book is quirky and well-paced and fun, despite the sometimes horrific content. I mean, Jane kills people who are evil-many of the characters are not exactly likeable. By the end I wanted Bad Monkeys to exist-though the Big Brother aspect of it was pretty frightening. And I wanted Jane to be good. Throughout the novel she struggles with her own evil, and in the end that seems to be the message Matt Ruff is trying to get across, at least in part. All of us have the capacity for good or evil, and it is our choices that determine whether we are on the side of right, or whether we are a bad monkey.
I realized after I finished Bad Monkeys that Ruff had written another novel that I found really quirky and fascinating, Set This House in Order. It ist he story of Andy Gage, the public face of a mind with multiple personalities. He is integrated enough to work designing virtual reality environments. At work he meets Penny, another multiple personality who needs Andy's help. The novel is engaging right from the start, and while I don't necessarily believe in the multiple personality disorder as a real condition, I do think that MPD as a mechanism for showing the multiple sides of our psyche and the conflicts they can create within us was pretty genius!
Friday, August 27, 2010
At last the wait is over! Wednesday evening, I came home from class to find my copy of Mockingjay waiting for me in the mail.
In case you have been living under a rock when it comes to the latest in young adult literature, Mockingjay is the last book in the Hunger Games trilogy. I reviewed the first two books in the series, The Hunger Games and Catching Fire here. The trilogy tells the story of Katniss Everdeen, a 16 year old living in District 12 of Panem-what was once the United States. Her life, and the lives of everyone in the districts, is closely controlled by the Capitol. The populace is left half-starved and completely oppressed. Once a year, just to prove how powerful it is, the Capitol puts on the Hunger Games, in which teen-age tributes fight to the death to earn their districts extra food for the year. The event is televised all through Panem, and is required watching. When Katniss, who volunteers to be a tribute to save her younger sister, finds a way to outsmart the system, she becomes a threat to the Capitol, and sets in motion a chain of events that leads to an uprising.
(If you have not yet read The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, and want to, I suggest you stop reading now, as I cannot guarantee there will be no spoilers in the following review. You have been warned!)
This is where Mockingjay picks up. While Katniss deals with the physical and emotional aftermath of her time in the games, the rebels try to groom her to be their symbol-the mockingjay, which has come to mean freedom to the people of Panem. Katniss is ambivalent about being used by the rebels, and is desperately worried about Peeta, the second tribute from District 12, who was captured at the end of the Hunger Game in Catching Fire. Finally, her desire for revenge against the cruel President Snow causes her to throw in the with rebels. With her best friend Gale by her side, she tries to outsmart the Capitol-and the rebels-in order to avenge the brutalities visited on her, her family and friends, and her district, and maybe just free Panem from tyranny while she's at it.
That summary feels pretty weak, but I am afraid that saying too much will ruin something for someone, so it'll have to do. Because the fact is, if you know too much about the events of the book prior to reading, there is no way that the story can pack the same emotional wallop that it does on a cold read. I was wrung out after finishing-in a good way, if there is such a thing. Granted, I pretty much read it all in one sitting, but I don't know how I could have put it down. And I am not really going to go into the state of the Peeta/Katniss/Gale triangle. That, too me, is the least that this series has to offer. Suffice it to say that regardless of what "team" you are one (and could we stop making everything about teams, like it's the Superbowl or something!), you will find very few happy endings in Mockingjay.
What made this book feel different for me than other books with similar topics is the way that the horrors of war are portrayed. There is no sentimentality here. All of the characters, but Katniss, Gale, and Peeta especially, are horribly damaged by the war-body, mind, and spirit. Collins does not try to sugarcoat the effects of war on human beings. People go crazy, people are wounded, people die. For periods of the book some of the characters are basically living on anti-depressants and other psychiatric drugs. I don't see how anyone reading this book could possibly believe that war is somehow glamorous, as some books/movies seem to imply. Despite the horror and pain, Katniss and the others somehow manage to keep going-a greater testament to the human spirit than the glorified warriors of other novels, I think.
I also liked the theme of media manipulation. Both the Capitol and the rebels use propaganda films to sway the populace. There is a certain amount of "wagging the dog", and ultimately the novel shows how almost anything can be spun to prove almost anything. I think that is not so different than what happens in today's media. Just think about a political campaign. There is so much conflicting information presented in campaign ads, it is impossible for both sides to be telling the truth. Or think about famous scandals. A well placed apology or public conversion can change a scoundrel into a repentant saint we are all too quick to forgive-especially if they shoot a basketball real well or starred in a movie we really liked. The fact was that no one who wasn't "in on it" had any idea what the true agendas of either the Capitol or the rebels were, including Katniss, who was once again manipulated for someone else's purposes.
In case you have been living under a rock when it comes to the latest in young adult literature, Mockingjay is the last book in the Hunger Games trilogy. I reviewed the first two books in the series, The Hunger Games and Catching Fire here. The trilogy tells the story of Katniss Everdeen, a 16 year old living in District 12 of Panem-what was once the United States. Her life, and the lives of everyone in the districts, is closely controlled by the Capitol. The populace is left half-starved and completely oppressed. Once a year, just to prove how powerful it is, the Capitol puts on the Hunger Games, in which teen-age tributes fight to the death to earn their districts extra food for the year. The event is televised all through Panem, and is required watching. When Katniss, who volunteers to be a tribute to save her younger sister, finds a way to outsmart the system, she becomes a threat to the Capitol, and sets in motion a chain of events that leads to an uprising.
(If you have not yet read The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, and want to, I suggest you stop reading now, as I cannot guarantee there will be no spoilers in the following review. You have been warned!)
This is where Mockingjay picks up. While Katniss deals with the physical and emotional aftermath of her time in the games, the rebels try to groom her to be their symbol-the mockingjay, which has come to mean freedom to the people of Panem. Katniss is ambivalent about being used by the rebels, and is desperately worried about Peeta, the second tribute from District 12, who was captured at the end of the Hunger Game in Catching Fire. Finally, her desire for revenge against the cruel President Snow causes her to throw in the with rebels. With her best friend Gale by her side, she tries to outsmart the Capitol-and the rebels-in order to avenge the brutalities visited on her, her family and friends, and her district, and maybe just free Panem from tyranny while she's at it.
That summary feels pretty weak, but I am afraid that saying too much will ruin something for someone, so it'll have to do. Because the fact is, if you know too much about the events of the book prior to reading, there is no way that the story can pack the same emotional wallop that it does on a cold read. I was wrung out after finishing-in a good way, if there is such a thing. Granted, I pretty much read it all in one sitting, but I don't know how I could have put it down. And I am not really going to go into the state of the Peeta/Katniss/Gale triangle. That, too me, is the least that this series has to offer. Suffice it to say that regardless of what "team" you are one (and could we stop making everything about teams, like it's the Superbowl or something!), you will find very few happy endings in Mockingjay.
What made this book feel different for me than other books with similar topics is the way that the horrors of war are portrayed. There is no sentimentality here. All of the characters, but Katniss, Gale, and Peeta especially, are horribly damaged by the war-body, mind, and spirit. Collins does not try to sugarcoat the effects of war on human beings. People go crazy, people are wounded, people die. For periods of the book some of the characters are basically living on anti-depressants and other psychiatric drugs. I don't see how anyone reading this book could possibly believe that war is somehow glamorous, as some books/movies seem to imply. Despite the horror and pain, Katniss and the others somehow manage to keep going-a greater testament to the human spirit than the glorified warriors of other novels, I think.
I also liked the theme of media manipulation. Both the Capitol and the rebels use propaganda films to sway the populace. There is a certain amount of "wagging the dog", and ultimately the novel shows how almost anything can be spun to prove almost anything. I think that is not so different than what happens in today's media. Just think about a political campaign. There is so much conflicting information presented in campaign ads, it is impossible for both sides to be telling the truth. Or think about famous scandals. A well placed apology or public conversion can change a scoundrel into a repentant saint we are all too quick to forgive-especially if they shoot a basketball real well or starred in a movie we really liked. The fact was that no one who wasn't "in on it" had any idea what the true agendas of either the Capitol or the rebels were, including Katniss, who was once again manipulated for someone else's purposes.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Welcome to another edition of It's Monday, What Are You Reading, hosted by Sheila at One Person's Journey.
For me, it's more like a "Where have you been for the last two weeks post?", since I somehow missed the boat last week. School starts today, and while my blog may have been slightly neglected, my classroom looks wonderful :)
So, since my last Monday post, here's how things stack up:
The Red Guards have branded Wild Ginger's deceased father a traitor and eventually drive her mother to a gruesome suicide, but she fervently embraces Maoism to save her spirit. She rises quickly through the ranks and is held up as a national model for Maoism. Wild Ginger now has everything, even a young man who vies for her heart. But Mao's prohibition on romantic love places her in an untenable position. Into this sexually charged situation steps Maple, creating an uneasy triangle that Min has portrayed with keen psychological insight and her characteristic gift for lyrical eroticism.(from Goodreads)
It's 1984. Alice Forrester is a twenty-five-year-old anorexic who has just experienced heart failure when she is taken to the emergency room of Seaview Hospital, renowned for its eating disorders clinic. There, family and friends in league with staff and doctors intently try to steer her toward recovery. But it's not that simple. She passes time at the clinic waiting to find out what is wrong with her. What happened. When and how the damage was done. (from Goodreads)
Inside Alaska’s biggest national park, around the town of Niniltna, a gold mining company has started buying up land. The residents of the Park are uneasy. “But gold is up to nine hundred dollars an ounce” is the refrain of Talia Macleod, the popular Alaskan skiing champ the company has hired to improve their relations with Alaskans and pave the way for the mine’s expansion. And she promises much-needed jobs to the locals.
But before she can make her way to every village in the area to present her case at town meetings and village breakfasts, there are two brutal murders, including that of a long-standing mine opponent. The investigation into those deaths falls to Trooper Jim Chopin and, as usual, he needs Kate to help him get to the heart of the matter.
Between those deaths and a series of attacks on snowmobilers up the Kanuyaq River, not to mention the still-open homicide of Park villain Louis Deem last year, part-time P.I. and newly elected chairman of the Niniltna Native Association Kate Shugak has her hands very much full. (from Goodreads)
The combined mind--force of a telepathic race, patternist thoughts can destroy, heal, rule. For the strongest mind commands the entire pattern and all ...more
The combined mind--force of a telepathic race, patternist thoughts can destroy, heal, rule. For the strongest mind commands the entire pattern and all within. Now the son of the Patternmaster craves this ultimate power, He has murdered or enslaved every threat to his ambition----except one. In the wild, mutant--infested hills, a young apprentice must be hunted down and destroyed because he is the tyrant's equal....and the Pattermaster's other son. (from Goodreads)
For me, it's more like a "Where have you been for the last two weeks post?", since I somehow missed the boat last week. School starts today, and while my blog may have been slightly neglected, my classroom looks wonderful :)
So, since my last Monday post, here's how things stack up:
Books read:
Deception, by John Kellerman (review coming soon!)
Reading has definitely slowed down in my world-darn that having to work thing, anyway! So, what's up next?
Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins
I was informed that my copy is on it's way from Amazon! I read the first two in late winter, and cursed my friends who recommended Hunger Games for not waiting a few months so I could just read all three at once!
Wild Ginger, by Anchee Min
The Passion of Alice, by Stephanie Grant
Whisper to the Blood, Dana Stabenow
But before she can make her way to every village in the area to present her case at town meetings and village breakfasts, there are two brutal murders, including that of a long-standing mine opponent. The investigation into those deaths falls to Trooper Jim Chopin and, as usual, he needs Kate to help him get to the heart of the matter.
Between those deaths and a series of attacks on snowmobilers up the Kanuyaq River, not to mention the still-open homicide of Park villain Louis Deem last year, part-time P.I. and newly elected chairman of the Niniltna Native Association Kate Shugak has her hands very much full. (from Goodreads)
Patternmaster, by Octavia E. Butler
The combined mind--force of a telepathic race, patternist thoughts can destroy, heal, rule. For the strongest mind commands the entire pattern and all within. Now the son of the Patternmaster craves this ultimate power, He has murdered or enslaved every threat to his ambition----except one. In the wild, mutant--infested hills, a young apprentice must be hunted down and destroyed because he is the tyrant's equal....and the Pattermaster's other son. (from Goodreads)
Saturday, August 14, 2010
What would you do if you contracted a "disease" that forced you to seek out the uninfected and infect them? We've had plenty of examples of this in popular culture lately to help us think about the issue-28 Days, 28 Days Later, and I Am Legend have all dealt with the aftermath of an epidemic that forces us to lose our humanity in the mindless quest to propagate a disease over which we have no control. I've always seen these stories as allegory for human creations gone awry, as apocryphal tales of what will happen in humans continue to change nature to meet our demands.
Trust Octavia E. Butler to have a different way of framing this idea. In her novel Clay's Ark, part of the Patternist series, Butler shows us the beginning of an extraterrestrial epidemic that has the potential to completely wipe out the human race. Not by turning humans into raving, bloody zombies intent on killing every living thing in sight, but by changing our very genetic make-up so that we are no longer human, but also not completely inhuman. Clay's Ark is the story of Eli, a geologist and astronaut, who returns from a mission to the Alpha Centurion galaxy carrying an alien organism in his body. The organism has changed him at a molecular level so that he is faster, stronger, and has sharper senses than before. He also has the overwhelming compulsion to infect others with the alien life form. After his ship crashes back on Earth, he comes upon a remote compound in the desert where a patriarch and his family live isolated from the rest of the world-a world that has become increasingly dangerous as people fight for resources that are becoming more and more scarce. Eli has no choice but to infect the inhabitants. Several years later, a man and his twin daughters are traveling the highway through the desert when Eli's band kidnaps them to add to their growing community. What happens next determines the fate of all humankind.
While this may sound an awful lot like the other examples of this theme that I mentioned, what makes Butler's take different is the way that the infected try to hold on to their humanity. The organism living inside each of them causes them to have compulsions that are immoral by human standards-incest, rape, murder. But Eli is convinced that if they can keep their settlement small, and only take new people as necessary to keep their compulsions at bay, then they can retain their humanity and contain the infection. In Clay's Ark the literal infection is an alien life form, but Butler could be using that as a symbol for anything that causes us to act in ways that deny our humanity. Rather than experiencing the invasion from the perspective of the "clean", we see this outbreak from the point of view of the infected. Eli is basically struggling with the most basic existential questions. What is it that makes us human, what is it that defines us as a human race? And once the infected start having children who are very different than human children, what can be said for the future of the human race? Are the children a new species of human, or something altogether different? And does it matter, if they are taught how to act as humans? Clay's Ark may be a pretty short novel, but Butler gives us a lot to think about. The next book in the Patternist series takes us to the far future, and I find myself wondering whether I will like where this story comes to its natural conclusion.
Trust Octavia E. Butler to have a different way of framing this idea. In her novel Clay's Ark, part of the Patternist series, Butler shows us the beginning of an extraterrestrial epidemic that has the potential to completely wipe out the human race. Not by turning humans into raving, bloody zombies intent on killing every living thing in sight, but by changing our very genetic make-up so that we are no longer human, but also not completely inhuman. Clay's Ark is the story of Eli, a geologist and astronaut, who returns from a mission to the Alpha Centurion galaxy carrying an alien organism in his body. The organism has changed him at a molecular level so that he is faster, stronger, and has sharper senses than before. He also has the overwhelming compulsion to infect others with the alien life form. After his ship crashes back on Earth, he comes upon a remote compound in the desert where a patriarch and his family live isolated from the rest of the world-a world that has become increasingly dangerous as people fight for resources that are becoming more and more scarce. Eli has no choice but to infect the inhabitants. Several years later, a man and his twin daughters are traveling the highway through the desert when Eli's band kidnaps them to add to their growing community. What happens next determines the fate of all humankind.
While this may sound an awful lot like the other examples of this theme that I mentioned, what makes Butler's take different is the way that the infected try to hold on to their humanity. The organism living inside each of them causes them to have compulsions that are immoral by human standards-incest, rape, murder. But Eli is convinced that if they can keep their settlement small, and only take new people as necessary to keep their compulsions at bay, then they can retain their humanity and contain the infection. In Clay's Ark the literal infection is an alien life form, but Butler could be using that as a symbol for anything that causes us to act in ways that deny our humanity. Rather than experiencing the invasion from the perspective of the "clean", we see this outbreak from the point of view of the infected. Eli is basically struggling with the most basic existential questions. What is it that makes us human, what is it that defines us as a human race? And once the infected start having children who are very different than human children, what can be said for the future of the human race? Are the children a new species of human, or something altogether different? And does it matter, if they are taught how to act as humans? Clay's Ark may be a pretty short novel, but Butler gives us a lot to think about. The next book in the Patternist series takes us to the far future, and I find myself wondering whether I will like where this story comes to its natural conclusion.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
I think that the reason that I like fantasy and science fiction so much is because I am so intrigued by the way the author's mind works. I mean, when I read Neil Gaiman or Sheri S. Tepper, I marvel at the places their imagination takes them. To take our ordinary world and change it into something marvelous/wondrous/horrible/terrifying/magical takes skill. Since so much fantasy and science fiction these days seems targeted at a younger audience, I'm always glad to find mature, thoughtful stories.
And this week it is Octavia Butler that I am thanking the sci fi gods for. I read Wild Seed, the first book chronologically in her Patternist series earlier this week, and last night finished Mind of My Mind. Mind of My Mind takes the story of Doro and Anyanwu and fast fowards it 150 years. Anyanwu and her family are now living in California, and Doro continues to pay visits to the only other immortal he's ever found. On this trip, he is planning to take Mary, one of his many experiments in creating telepaths, and marry her off to Karl, another of his creations. She is about to go through her transition, the time when those with latent telepathic abilities either learn to control their talent, or go crazy or die in the attempt. When Mary transitions, Doro finds that her power is new, different-and potentially dangerous to him. Since this is a fairly rare occurrence in his almost 4000 years of life, he does not kill her, but watches to see what she will do. She is at the center of the Pattern-a psychic link to other strong telepaths. While she does not control the Pattern itself, she can control the people in it. She soon builds an enclave of other powerful telepaths, all of whom answer to her. Soon enough, Doro realizes his mistake in not killing her when her new power first asserted itself.
As I was reading I was alternately drawn to the mission that Mary took on, and terrified of what it would mean if it was real. Her telepaths can control anyone not a telepath, forcing them to do things while making them so content with their servitude they think they are doing them out of their own free will. This is slavery of a different sort-one with fairly benign masters, assuredly, but slavery nonetheless. While Mary has a symbiotic relationship with her telepaths, they all use the "mutes", as they call non-telepaths, to support them in creating a small empire, while helping them stay hidden from the rest of the world. This reminds me of the relationship between the Ina and their symbionts in Fledgling, the first of Butler's books I discovered.
Mary and her "First Family" of telepaths (those she drew to her first), are at times sympathetic characters, and at times ruthless killers. Mary's mission to save latents from themselves seems admirable, but when they do not abide by the rules of her little community they will kill them without much remorse. It seems that ordinarily, telepaths cannot abide each other's company, since they cannot abide mind to mind contact with each other. They also cannot abide children, because no one, not even Mary, can completely block the psychic noise that constantly streams from young minds. This is another reason that they need the mutes-if their "race" is to continue, they must have someone who can take care of the children without abusing or killing them. Butler blurs the line between good and evil, highlighting the relative nature of so many of the rules of human society. She also examines the very idea of race as a construct, since Doro has been trying for millenia to create a new "race" of people like himself of which he can be a part. Color has nothing to do with it in Doro's worldview-talent is the great dividing line, the one thing that determines a person's worth. There are two more books in this series, and I almost don't want to read them, because then I will have read them-I like thinking about the pleasure I will have in the future from this always surprising, though provoking author.
And this week it is Octavia Butler that I am thanking the sci fi gods for. I read Wild Seed, the first book chronologically in her Patternist series earlier this week, and last night finished Mind of My Mind. Mind of My Mind takes the story of Doro and Anyanwu and fast fowards it 150 years. Anyanwu and her family are now living in California, and Doro continues to pay visits to the only other immortal he's ever found. On this trip, he is planning to take Mary, one of his many experiments in creating telepaths, and marry her off to Karl, another of his creations. She is about to go through her transition, the time when those with latent telepathic abilities either learn to control their talent, or go crazy or die in the attempt. When Mary transitions, Doro finds that her power is new, different-and potentially dangerous to him. Since this is a fairly rare occurrence in his almost 4000 years of life, he does not kill her, but watches to see what she will do. She is at the center of the Pattern-a psychic link to other strong telepaths. While she does not control the Pattern itself, she can control the people in it. She soon builds an enclave of other powerful telepaths, all of whom answer to her. Soon enough, Doro realizes his mistake in not killing her when her new power first asserted itself.
As I was reading I was alternately drawn to the mission that Mary took on, and terrified of what it would mean if it was real. Her telepaths can control anyone not a telepath, forcing them to do things while making them so content with their servitude they think they are doing them out of their own free will. This is slavery of a different sort-one with fairly benign masters, assuredly, but slavery nonetheless. While Mary has a symbiotic relationship with her telepaths, they all use the "mutes", as they call non-telepaths, to support them in creating a small empire, while helping them stay hidden from the rest of the world. This reminds me of the relationship between the Ina and their symbionts in Fledgling, the first of Butler's books I discovered.
Mary and her "First Family" of telepaths (those she drew to her first), are at times sympathetic characters, and at times ruthless killers. Mary's mission to save latents from themselves seems admirable, but when they do not abide by the rules of her little community they will kill them without much remorse. It seems that ordinarily, telepaths cannot abide each other's company, since they cannot abide mind to mind contact with each other. They also cannot abide children, because no one, not even Mary, can completely block the psychic noise that constantly streams from young minds. This is another reason that they need the mutes-if their "race" is to continue, they must have someone who can take care of the children without abusing or killing them. Butler blurs the line between good and evil, highlighting the relative nature of so many of the rules of human society. She also examines the very idea of race as a construct, since Doro has been trying for millenia to create a new "race" of people like himself of which he can be a part. Color has nothing to do with it in Doro's worldview-talent is the great dividing line, the one thing that determines a person's worth. There are two more books in this series, and I almost don't want to read them, because then I will have read them-I like thinking about the pleasure I will have in the future from this always surprising, though provoking author.
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