Since the film came out, The Girl On The Train by Paula Hawkins has been coming and going more often at our little bookstore and since some readers request a review I thought I'd give it a read. Done and done.
Yeah. It was okay. I read from cover to cover in about a day and a half. At no point did I think, "This book is rubbish", nor did I want to set it down and quit reading. The characters were wonderfully faulted, the mystery was interesting and sordid, new information was slowly fed to the reader in small enough bites to be just not enough to make assumptions too close to the truth.
Not a great read, but not a bad read. I would say The Girl On The Train is good vacation or day-off fodder.
Have at it.
Friday, December 16, 2016
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Why Books?
This entry is an incomplete thought and may or may not be edited at another time.
Alphabetization brings me a sense of structure that I can control and keep in precise and easily-filed order. This is why I am well-suited to a book store environment. This is also why I felt so very comfortable as a file clerk at my local community college. Happiness is a room full of words that need alphabetization.
Books… ah, Books: informational spines, with titles that entice, authors to follow, material that speaks of publication history and quantity of particular units of print; covers that relay the use and storage and age and valuation, financial and social.
Remember, though, to never judge a book by its cover.
The real value of a book is usually found between its covers. Each book is a different aspect of mind of the writer. One must remember authors are people. Each book, once read, is the voice of that individual writer in the mind of the reader, floating around with its message that is turned over in the reader’s process of introspection. That information becomes part of the reader’s experience of the world and of reality and forms their perspective of reality. The words used can develop the reader’s sense of language processing and familiarity with aspects of language that the reader would not otherwise have experience of, like a non-collegiate reading the words of a collegiate study, or a city-dweller understanding the of the words of mountain-folk.
The History of Mankind is held in books, especially in books that aren’t history books. The long view of humanity is held in the works of individuals just writing about what they think about. This many-subject writing gives an image of what life was like to the literate human without drawing the lines of time. Holding a book in your hand that has, forgive the phrase, ‘travelled through time’ with its own story of use is like holding the hand of the author while the author was writing down ideas. Questions can’t be asked, but similarities between then and now, and them and us can be found easily. Understanding can be drawn. Pages can be turned.
A reader who is paying attention to an author’s words can experience something life changing; an eye-opening phrase that alters the way one uses one’s thoughts. Epiphany, understanding, creativity, these are aspects of mind that interest me when I read. I want to see the firing of synapses when I read. When I read, I want to appreciate the way an author puts words together to communicate a particular thought.
The problem with reading is the limitation of language, or at least the language that I speak and read. It is hard for many, including me, to portray a thought in real time that encapsulates all levels of thought. That is when art comes in handy. Books, though, can pinpoint a concept, theme or thesis, and delve into it.
The business of books is not easy. Books are underappreciated and are in many places considered disposable because of a lack of relevance.
It’s been my experience that relevance changes quickly.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
View from the Stacks
I've mentioned I spend my time at a used bookstore; not to say the store is used in that it was once owned by someone else, lovingly read and passed on, but the books most certainly have.
I have the particular honor of being able to come to a lovely book-insulated atmosphere with the option to lock the door and just BE. The stacks, the alphabetized order, the categories, the silent voices whispering out of time from the shelves... for a select few, this is bliss. I handle, almost daily, a quantifiable representation of humanity encapsulated in paper, board, and ink. The words held in these pages, many worthy, many seemingly waste beyond a picture in time of how reality presents itself to different minds and how those minds choose to present themselves, tell what is and what has been since words began being recorded.
I recognize that print does not mean truth, but the collection of the print is a truth in itself. It is our truth and our truths, the face given to history to reflect who we are, where we have been, where we are, and where we are going.
The big picture is very hard to see when you are looking at only one small part of it. The benefit of a categorized bookstore, specifically a used bookstore that is respectful of aged books (which are actually historical thoughts or pictures in time), is that it is easier to see humanity as a whole. It is easier to put ideas into perspective or to find perspective on an aspect of what we call "Life" when a categorized collection is looking you in the face. Of course, books don't represent all of what is, they are only a physical form of aspects of the experiences of others, but the books tell so much, even beyond the words they hold (see bio).
This is a great excuse to be a book-hoarder. The best thing about being behind the curtain in a used bookstore is that you get an excuse to keep those books that you would just rather not let go into the dumpster or the recycler. I try to find them homes, at least those I dub worthy ("Who am I to play God of the Written Word?", I ask myself. The answer, "But someone has to do it"). There are too many that have to be marked down and demarcated and devalued because of a lack of demand or shelf-space. I don't feel so much a hoarder as I do a guard of knowledge. I haven't read nor can I read a measurable fraction of what is on our shelves, but I feel duty-bound to protect what passes our threshold.
It is good to find the place you belong, and I belong among the stacks.
I have the particular honor of being able to come to a lovely book-insulated atmosphere with the option to lock the door and just BE. The stacks, the alphabetized order, the categories, the silent voices whispering out of time from the shelves... for a select few, this is bliss. I handle, almost daily, a quantifiable representation of humanity encapsulated in paper, board, and ink. The words held in these pages, many worthy, many seemingly waste beyond a picture in time of how reality presents itself to different minds and how those minds choose to present themselves, tell what is and what has been since words began being recorded.
I recognize that print does not mean truth, but the collection of the print is a truth in itself. It is our truth and our truths, the face given to history to reflect who we are, where we have been, where we are, and where we are going.
The big picture is very hard to see when you are looking at only one small part of it. The benefit of a categorized bookstore, specifically a used bookstore that is respectful of aged books (which are actually historical thoughts or pictures in time), is that it is easier to see humanity as a whole. It is easier to put ideas into perspective or to find perspective on an aspect of what we call "Life" when a categorized collection is looking you in the face. Of course, books don't represent all of what is, they are only a physical form of aspects of the experiences of others, but the books tell so much, even beyond the words they hold (see bio).
This is a great excuse to be a book-hoarder. The best thing about being behind the curtain in a used bookstore is that you get an excuse to keep those books that you would just rather not let go into the dumpster or the recycler. I try to find them homes, at least those I dub worthy ("Who am I to play God of the Written Word?", I ask myself. The answer, "But someone has to do it"). There are too many that have to be marked down and demarcated and devalued because of a lack of demand or shelf-space. I don't feel so much a hoarder as I do a guard of knowledge. I haven't read nor can I read a measurable fraction of what is on our shelves, but I feel duty-bound to protect what passes our threshold.
It is good to find the place you belong, and I belong among the stacks.
Monday, October 24, 2016
Alas, Babylon: take 2
After my last post, I found myself pretty hung up on my response to Alas, Babylon (Patrick Frank). The apocalyptic story, though well done in many details for one of the first of its kind, just did not seem real enough to me. The characters didn't have enough dimension, were too trapped in pre-event stereotypes to be believable.
I have been hung up on the story because I wonder how I could let a story I didn't like get under my skin so much, but this is a book review, not a therapy session... though one could argue that since the fruit of the writer is an insight into the mind of an individual, it is the reader's (and reviewer's) responsibility to acknowledge visceral responses to the brain-fruit of the writer.
**Side note: listening to "The Blues Walk" by Clifford Brown and Max Roach, and the drum solo was kickin'. I'm 40-something, I'm allowed outdated colloquial slang and love affairs with jazz drum solos**
When reading, I wonder often how much the author is presenting of his/her Self or of what he/she thinks we want to read, limiting the intrusion of Self. I'm very interested in accurate reflections of human interaction and speech patterns, and thought processes and impulse control under stressful conditions. How do people really act, and how do non-generalized individuals respond to stressful situations? That is what I want to see in my mind-movie when reading a work of fiction.
I guess we all read for our own purposes. I read to know the authors, to see through someone else's eyes what their imaginary worlds look like. I don't ask for much... just something worth reading.
I can say, Alas, Babylon was worth reading for a look into another time; for perspective into the fears held by mid-century Americans during the Nuclear War terror that gripped the world then.
**Another side note: I don't think the fears they lived under are much different than the proximity we are quickly approaching along the lines of the likelihood of having a button-pushing-happy-World Leader. Will the children in our schools soon be taught to react to a nuclear blast (like our grandparents when they were kids) by slipping under their desks and covering their heads in weekly response drills? Or will we be kept distracted by the next shiny new device that can unlock our houses, tell us our footstep count and play our favorite songs while telling us how to make dinner during a conversation with our Grammygram on her Spain vacation without letting us forget who in Hollywood is getting divorced/arrested/having a baby/gaining weight? **
After saying all of this, as a distraction Alas, Babylon does the job. I guess if I want reality, I'll read the newspaper. Yeah, I said newspaper.
I have been hung up on the story because I wonder how I could let a story I didn't like get under my skin so much, but this is a book review, not a therapy session... though one could argue that since the fruit of the writer is an insight into the mind of an individual, it is the reader's (and reviewer's) responsibility to acknowledge visceral responses to the brain-fruit of the writer.
**Side note: listening to "The Blues Walk" by Clifford Brown and Max Roach, and the drum solo was kickin'. I'm 40-something, I'm allowed outdated colloquial slang and love affairs with jazz drum solos**
When reading, I wonder often how much the author is presenting of his/her Self or of what he/she thinks we want to read, limiting the intrusion of Self. I'm very interested in accurate reflections of human interaction and speech patterns, and thought processes and impulse control under stressful conditions. How do people really act, and how do non-generalized individuals respond to stressful situations? That is what I want to see in my mind-movie when reading a work of fiction.
I guess we all read for our own purposes. I read to know the authors, to see through someone else's eyes what their imaginary worlds look like. I don't ask for much... just something worth reading.
I can say, Alas, Babylon was worth reading for a look into another time; for perspective into the fears held by mid-century Americans during the Nuclear War terror that gripped the world then.
**Another side note: I don't think the fears they lived under are much different than the proximity we are quickly approaching along the lines of the likelihood of having a button-pushing-happy-World Leader. Will the children in our schools soon be taught to react to a nuclear blast (like our grandparents when they were kids) by slipping under their desks and covering their heads in weekly response drills? Or will we be kept distracted by the next shiny new device that can unlock our houses, tell us our footstep count and play our favorite songs while telling us how to make dinner during a conversation with our Grammygram on her Spain vacation without letting us forget who in Hollywood is getting divorced/arrested/having a baby/gaining weight? **
After saying all of this, as a distraction Alas, Babylon does the job. I guess if I want reality, I'll read the newspaper. Yeah, I said newspaper.
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
Alas, Babylon: Pat Frank; 1959
Man, do I have problems with Alas, Babylon.
You can usually tell when a book was written by a mid-twentieth-century upper-middle-class white American man, which is to say some people are just oblivious to the way the world really works. After an apocalyptic event, I highly doubt the people who were essentially in a subservient position would still "yessir" and "anything you say sir" and "right away sir" and "let me just drop my plow right here and leave my mule sitting in the middle of the field so I can run and do whatever it is you want me to do, boss". I really got ticked off at the main character when, after the acting leader of the free world came on the radio and said "all debts will be forgiven" and he tells the man that used to work for him before "The Day" who just installed some pipe for an artesian water system that the worker can forget about the $200 that was borrowed because he just worked so hard... I mean, the president lady already came out and said all debts were forgiven....what a d***.
I highly doubt poor people, who were poor before the big blasts knocked out the infrastructure in the entire lower 48 would be rolling in their own feces 4 months after the power was shut off. Actually, I imagine the poor people who had been doing without for generations would be much better set up to withstand hardship than those of "higher birth" who are used to having their needs met before the need made itself known.
And come, really? Women have been the backbone of survival for eons. After the fall of society, women will be too busy figuring out staples and food storage and how to get through today and next year to make sure you have hot water delivered to your bedroom every morning so you can have a shave. Grow a beard, get over yourself and write a real survival story.
I don't have my book with me so I can't tell you what page I'm on at the moment. I have read to recognize the difference between today and yesterday, though it seems our politics are relatively the same. I recognize how far we have come as a people; how, though it seems our races and economic levels are once again pulling apart to their separate corners in many ways, it has been much, much worse.
Could be I'm writing with my grouchy pants, could be I shouldn't be judging a book written 57 years ago by modern standards. Could be I should just write my own survival "what if".
Later: The problem with re-reading (or the benefit of re-reading) what you have written a couple of days later is you can see where you erred and (this particular "you") feel the absolute need to add to what was said in a revisionary manner.
I grant that this was an emotional writing, and didn't mention the detailed political maneuvers the author included in the text. I don't know how countries work, how they relate, how they would recover from a global attack, how pilots speak to each other and their support, etc. I feel after reading Pat Frank I have a better idea of world relations and strategy during the late 1950's.
Also, excuse the bleeped profanity where I referred to the protaganist as a part of the male anatomy. That was uncalled for... but get me in the right mood and I might repeat it.
You can usually tell when a book was written by a mid-twentieth-century upper-middle-class white American man, which is to say some people are just oblivious to the way the world really works. After an apocalyptic event, I highly doubt the people who were essentially in a subservient position would still "yessir" and "anything you say sir" and "right away sir" and "let me just drop my plow right here and leave my mule sitting in the middle of the field so I can run and do whatever it is you want me to do, boss". I really got ticked off at the main character when, after the acting leader of the free world came on the radio and said "all debts will be forgiven" and he tells the man that used to work for him before "The Day" who just installed some pipe for an artesian water system that the worker can forget about the $200 that was borrowed because he just worked so hard... I mean, the president lady already came out and said all debts were forgiven....what a d***.
I highly doubt poor people, who were poor before the big blasts knocked out the infrastructure in the entire lower 48 would be rolling in their own feces 4 months after the power was shut off. Actually, I imagine the poor people who had been doing without for generations would be much better set up to withstand hardship than those of "higher birth" who are used to having their needs met before the need made itself known.
And come, really? Women have been the backbone of survival for eons. After the fall of society, women will be too busy figuring out staples and food storage and how to get through today and next year to make sure you have hot water delivered to your bedroom every morning so you can have a shave. Grow a beard, get over yourself and write a real survival story.
I don't have my book with me so I can't tell you what page I'm on at the moment. I have read to recognize the difference between today and yesterday, though it seems our politics are relatively the same. I recognize how far we have come as a people; how, though it seems our races and economic levels are once again pulling apart to their separate corners in many ways, it has been much, much worse.
Could be I'm writing with my grouchy pants, could be I shouldn't be judging a book written 57 years ago by modern standards. Could be I should just write my own survival "what if".
Later: The problem with re-reading (or the benefit of re-reading) what you have written a couple of days later is you can see where you erred and (this particular "you") feel the absolute need to add to what was said in a revisionary manner.
I grant that this was an emotional writing, and didn't mention the detailed political maneuvers the author included in the text. I don't know how countries work, how they relate, how they would recover from a global attack, how pilots speak to each other and their support, etc. I feel after reading Pat Frank I have a better idea of world relations and strategy during the late 1950's.
Also, excuse the bleeped profanity where I referred to the protaganist as a part of the male anatomy. That was uncalled for... but get me in the right mood and I might repeat it.
Monday, August 8, 2016
(Deep breath)... House of Leaves: Mark Danielewski
Day...7???
One hundred and twenty-seven pages in. This distance is not to be taken lightly. Running out of sticky notes... wondering if halls will continue growing, changing, hiding that mysterious 'what' that is creeping out of sight, rumbling its displeasure or (and?) promise.
It changes you, this insight,
this infinite absence.
Ergodic literature, that's the name of the writing format of House of Leaves. So very refreshing from a front-to-backer, I suggest sitting at a desk with a pad of sticky notes and a trusty writing tool in solitude, preferably on a dark and stormy week and a half.
Don't Get Lost.
Set some time and brain space to the side; take a jaunt down the complicated and multi-level and oh-so-intriguing maze of the mind of Mark Danielewski. The amount of research, intent, direction, character development, realism, psychology, (male boasting?) -I could go on in this strain for a very long time- is jaw dropping, once the whole level of involvement becomes apparent. There is back-story, there is side-story and under-story and well-marked and hidden pathways throughout.
When the final board falls shut, will there be an echo?
This is not easy holiday or weekend reading. This book is an investment, and well worth it.
One hundred and twenty-seven pages in. This distance is not to be taken lightly. Running out of sticky notes... wondering if halls will continue growing, changing, hiding that mysterious 'what' that is creeping out of sight, rumbling its displeasure or (and?) promise.
It changes you, this insight,
this infinite absence.
Ergodic literature, that's the name of the writing format of House of Leaves. So very refreshing from a front-to-backer, I suggest sitting at a desk with a pad of sticky notes and a trusty writing tool in solitude, preferably on a dark and stormy week and a half.
Don't Get Lost.
Set some time and brain space to the side; take a jaunt down the complicated and multi-level and oh-so-intriguing maze of the mind of Mark Danielewski. The amount of research, intent, direction, character development, realism, psychology, (male boasting?) -I could go on in this strain for a very long time- is jaw dropping, once the whole level of involvement becomes apparent. There is back-story, there is side-story and under-story and well-marked and hidden pathways throughout.
When the final board falls shut, will there be an echo?
This is not easy holiday or weekend reading. This book is an investment, and well worth it.
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Interesting tie-in: The Cobra Event, The Scorch Trials
Richard Preston: The Cobra Event
Mass market paperback
Ballantine Books, NY 1998
0-345-40997-3
James Dashner: The Scorch Trials
Trade paperback
Delacorte Press (Random House)
978-0-385-73876-7
Sorting through books last week at Le Grande Church of Libris (you're welcome for the pidgin), Richard Preston's The Cobra Event moved across my table. I know Richard Preston... not 'know' as in "Hey Rich, going to Stone Soup next week?" , but know as "Ah, Richard Preston, the guy who wrote that book The Hot Zone that I took camping that one year, and really, really shouldn't have been out in the woods without proper and constant hand-washing facilities with." (I was talking to myself, so it is perfectly fine to end a sentence with 'with')
The Hot Zone, about Ebola Virus, is a book that is not exactly beach-reading but darn if it doesn't cause some enlightenment of a very particular strain. (Thank you, thank you, I'll be here every Wednesday and Friday.) Richard Preston made such an impact on me with The Hot Zone, the option of reading a book of fiction written by him tickled my neurons.
Ten minutes later, I saw The Scorch Trials by James Dashner sitting on a shelf in the office. The Scorch Trials is the second book in The Maze Runner series. Nobody remembered why it was sitting there, so it got volunteered for weekend reading. I spent Friday evening to Saturday evening with them both, and am happy to say I came out of the ordeal un-infected.
I could say the fact that they are both centered around highly contageous pathogens and were random grabs was synchronistic, but I admit to having an interest in world-changing events so it's not so coincedental as one would think that two books I grab randomly end up sharing a topic.
The Cobra Event was so detailed and researched and well written (granted a couple of editing slips, one of which caused a story hole) it kept me glued to its pages until the wee hours of the morn, shifting from one part of the house to another with a paperback stuck to my left hand. Some parts were very hard to read, simply because I have 'delicate sensibilities', so I tend to blanch at hard violence and very visually stimulating descriptions. I feel like Mr. Preston took me by the hand and walked me through an autopsy with his language and writing ability. Thanks for the memories, Mr. Preston. I have to go wash my hands...again.
The Scorch Trials, the film version of which I just watched a couple of weeks ago, was so far from the film in content that I was amazed the Hollywood version was allowed to share the name. I hope James Dashner made a bundle from the sterilized film because any author whose work is sliced and diced like that deserves compensation for the sacrifice of their ideas (you're welcome for the autopsy reference). I read The Scorch Trials rather quickly. The language was definitely aimed at younger readers, filled with science fiction and action that pulled the reader along on a mad dash through a bleak futuristic Mad Max world driven by mysterious fascist puppeteers, or some system that resembles fascism. It is a mysterious group so you don't know if it has a dictator or not. You don't know what their motivations are though you seem to learn a bit here and there about the nature of the Trials through dream sequences that resemble memory.
It looks like there were a lot of holes in The Scorch Trials simply because there are a lot of questions or seemingly impossible events, but that is the fun of science fiction: you get to suspend your belief and just take the events as they unfold. The best part of this story is how often seemingly impossible things pop up and are just dealt with in a "this, too, shall pass" manner. The reader gets a sense of "there is only now", with survival being the only priority. I am able to suspend my belief when it comes to matters of science fiction, I am not when it comes to basic facts of survival, like how hard it is to cross 100 miles of desert on foot in two weeks, or people who have torn off their own noses surviving without horrible bacterial infections because their wounds have gone untreated. I hope in the next two books in the series Mr. Dashner collects all of his loose strands and is able to pull it together without it feeling like a book version of that unfortunate television series from a few years ago called "Lost" who 'lost' this viewer because the continuity was slapdash.
I will find out because, though it had many holes and unrealistic biology, I will be ordering the rest of the series. It was a good read. It was fun, it was interesting, filled with intrigue and action. Just because I can find fault in something doesn't mean I don't like it. I'm married, I'm all about concession.
Mass market paperback
Ballantine Books, NY 1998
0-345-40997-3
James Dashner: The Scorch Trials
Trade paperback
Delacorte Press (Random House)
978-0-385-73876-7
Sorting through books last week at Le Grande Church of Libris (you're welcome for the pidgin), Richard Preston's The Cobra Event moved across my table. I know Richard Preston... not 'know' as in "Hey Rich, going to Stone Soup next week?" , but know as "Ah, Richard Preston, the guy who wrote that book The Hot Zone that I took camping that one year, and really, really shouldn't have been out in the woods without proper and constant hand-washing facilities with." (I was talking to myself, so it is perfectly fine to end a sentence with 'with')
The Hot Zone, about Ebola Virus, is a book that is not exactly beach-reading but darn if it doesn't cause some enlightenment of a very particular strain. (Thank you, thank you, I'll be here every Wednesday and Friday.) Richard Preston made such an impact on me with The Hot Zone, the option of reading a book of fiction written by him tickled my neurons.
Ten minutes later, I saw The Scorch Trials by James Dashner sitting on a shelf in the office. The Scorch Trials is the second book in The Maze Runner series. Nobody remembered why it was sitting there, so it got volunteered for weekend reading. I spent Friday evening to Saturday evening with them both, and am happy to say I came out of the ordeal un-infected.
I could say the fact that they are both centered around highly contageous pathogens and were random grabs was synchronistic, but I admit to having an interest in world-changing events so it's not so coincedental as one would think that two books I grab randomly end up sharing a topic.
The Cobra Event was so detailed and researched and well written (granted a couple of editing slips, one of which caused a story hole) it kept me glued to its pages until the wee hours of the morn, shifting from one part of the house to another with a paperback stuck to my left hand. Some parts were very hard to read, simply because I have 'delicate sensibilities', so I tend to blanch at hard violence and very visually stimulating descriptions. I feel like Mr. Preston took me by the hand and walked me through an autopsy with his language and writing ability. Thanks for the memories, Mr. Preston. I have to go wash my hands...again.
The Scorch Trials, the film version of which I just watched a couple of weeks ago, was so far from the film in content that I was amazed the Hollywood version was allowed to share the name. I hope James Dashner made a bundle from the sterilized film because any author whose work is sliced and diced like that deserves compensation for the sacrifice of their ideas (you're welcome for the autopsy reference). I read The Scorch Trials rather quickly. The language was definitely aimed at younger readers, filled with science fiction and action that pulled the reader along on a mad dash through a bleak futuristic Mad Max world driven by mysterious fascist puppeteers, or some system that resembles fascism. It is a mysterious group so you don't know if it has a dictator or not. You don't know what their motivations are though you seem to learn a bit here and there about the nature of the Trials through dream sequences that resemble memory.
It looks like there were a lot of holes in The Scorch Trials simply because there are a lot of questions or seemingly impossible events, but that is the fun of science fiction: you get to suspend your belief and just take the events as they unfold. The best part of this story is how often seemingly impossible things pop up and are just dealt with in a "this, too, shall pass" manner. The reader gets a sense of "there is only now", with survival being the only priority. I am able to suspend my belief when it comes to matters of science fiction, I am not when it comes to basic facts of survival, like how hard it is to cross 100 miles of desert on foot in two weeks, or people who have torn off their own noses surviving without horrible bacterial infections because their wounds have gone untreated. I hope in the next two books in the series Mr. Dashner collects all of his loose strands and is able to pull it together without it feeling like a book version of that unfortunate television series from a few years ago called "Lost" who 'lost' this viewer because the continuity was slapdash.
I will find out because, though it had many holes and unrealistic biology, I will be ordering the rest of the series. It was a good read. It was fun, it was interesting, filled with intrigue and action. Just because I can find fault in something doesn't mean I don't like it. I'm married, I'm all about concession.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
The Circle: Dave Eggers
The following review was written around March of 2015, submitted for your perusal.
Here is a book for the ages, specifically the one we are in now. In The Circle, by Dave Eggers (author of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius), we are told the fictional tale of a young woman who takes a job at an exceptionally successful and infinitely growing technology company with Utopian goals, and quickly learn their Utopia requires sacrifice, specifically the right to privacy. What is disturbing about this book is the similarity to our own technologically developing reality, our own loss of privacy rights without a peep from the determining masses, and our own complacency in trade for the shiny and new.
The book is frightening in its equivalence and potential; so relative the reader forgets the book is fiction and mulls the act of stepping away from digital interaction, or at least thinks twice about habitual internet interaction and device dependence.
Although a bit predictable, this book is an eye opener, all be it a work of fiction. The Circle is a great read for tech/mystery enthusiasts, science fiction fans, conspiracy theorists, and those who enjoy putting together the strings of a story.
Friday, July 1, 2016
Daniel Tammet: Born on a Blue Day (Inside the Extraordinary Mind of an Autistic Savant)
Born On a Blue Day is the telling of the experience of life by a high functioning Autistic man who is a record-breaking orator of Pi. Daniel Tammet is a savant who experiences synesthesia, a "subjective sensation of a sense other than the one being stimulated", i.e. "sound may evoke sensations of colour".
Mr. Tammet has a unique life experience in that his brain translates input in a manner that is uncommon to what is referred to as "Neurotypical", Neurotypicals being the average Joe and Jane that general statistics are based on. Mr. Tammet describes succinctly his method of translating and interacting with a world that, to someone who absorbs and processes information on a level unimaginable by the Neurotypical mind, is often overwhelming and chaotic to the degree of extreme distraction and disruption.
Definitely a good read, Born on a Blue Day is something that gives a focused perspective of the world through the eyes of a unique mind. It is worth the paper it is printed on and the energy of its publication.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
The Night Listener: Armistead Maupin
The Night Listener was an easy read, in that I read it in less than a day. It was not an easy read in that there were a couple of parts that I had a very hard time with, content-wise. Being the prude that I am, I don’t find the goings on behind closed doors necessary or even beneficial to the plot or telling of a story, unless something happens during the intimate moment that is necessary for the story. The unnecessary bits, or the parts that I found unnecessary, seemed as if the author was pushing the point in a matter that was simply for shock value, to make sure that the reader knows that the author is gay and this is what some gay people do. I get it. It’s just private, and unnecessary to the story. Unnecessary to the point of drawing the reader away from the very weird and compelling mystery of the boy who is or is not there, the "Schrodinger’s Boy" (see Schrodinger’s Cat https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dinger%27s_cat ).
The mystery in this fictional story is based on something very real and relatively recent, a head scratcher that demonstrates the chaos and confusion of what we consider “real”. Usually, the existence of a person is pretty apparent; a person either is a person or not a person. What happens when people establish a caring relationship with a person that may not be who they think they are, and the existence of that person cannot be established as truth or fiction? It seems very important for the mystery to be solved. Life is much more complicated than fiction; life doesn’t usually have a plot progression and a neat and tidy ending. Sometimes, life doesn’t provide an ending at all. For a work of fiction based on real events, The Night Listener is bubbling with different events of the author’s life. From personal relationships with parents and siblings and lovers, to a delicate “adoption” of a strange sick boy, this book is a stew of what it takes to be human in a very real and confusing social structure that captures nuances of aspects of life that I have never had experience of, and that make me grateful for the simplicity of mountain life. For bonus reading material, keep reading after the end of the story for the explanation of the mystery of the Schrodinger’s Boy. See what you can make of it.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
The Princess Bride: William Goldman (S. Morgenstern)
Many of us remember the star-studded 1987 film The Princess Bride with fond memories; the retelling of the childhood experience of the author as a boy (played by a young Fred Savage) with pneumonia, being read to by his grandfather( played by Peter Faulk), with the story being broken into occasionally by the boy telling his grandfather he is reading the story wrong because it isn’t following proper fantasy story plot rules.
I recently came across the 1973 publication of the story and because of my fond memories decided I would not be a proper nerd if I didn’t read The Princess Bride when it crossed my path.
Written by William Goldman under the premise of an abridgement of the much earlier S. Morgenstern version that was read to Goldman as a child, the book is predictably different from the film, knowing what Hollywood string-pullers do to original text on a regular basis, but enough of the story was the same to give the reader a similar experience of enjoyment and nostalgia. The book is much more detailed, of course, with reflections on the author’s life leading to the desire to abridge the S. Morgenstern version of The Princess Bride to reflect the way his father (film/book difference) read it to him as a child after having realized his father skipped all of the ‘boring parts’, mostly about Florinese politics, countless pages of royal ceremony, packing and other brain-numbing details. The author’s voice is present at points of 'abridgment' where Goldman tells the reader why he chose to cut something, and what it was he was cutting. The truth is there was no S. Morgenstern, that every stroke of type in “The Princess Bride” from cover to cover is the fictional creation of the crafty, witty, and tricksy {ask Golem (Lord of the Rings), tricksy is a word} William Goldman. What a Hoot!
It was every bit as enjoyable to read as it was to watch the climbing of the Cliffs of Insanity, the epic sword battle of the Dread Pirate Roberts and the fencing Wizard Inigo Montoya, the fire-swamp-dwelling R.O.U.S., the pain-obsessed six-fingered Count, "to the pain!", "As you wish", the Brute Squad, and the unforgettable wit crossing between our heroic Pirate and the plotting Sicilian, Vizzini.
I now love the book more than the movie, as long as I can keep Mandy Patinkin in mind when I read the line, “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
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