Tag: book-review

Anticipation Speaks

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A warm Tuesday evening here. I have a few minutes, so supposed I would fill the time by writing a few words on my latest book! Fair warning – it wasn’t a book I loved so I think my thoughts shall be fairly brief. I think.

40. Hotel du Lac by Anita Brookner. Oddly enough, reading this book made me feel distinctly less enthused about vacationing in Switzerland, regardless of the fact that it’s set in a lakeside hotel that presumably people go to enjoy themselves. And yet. That’s part of the thrust of this book, no matter that you may be visiting a charming location – you still very much come with your own baggage, corporeal and non. And the jury is still out if this hotel and its lake and its surroundings are actually charming. The author does good work here of making this lakeside retreat moody, dreamy and even a bit musty at times. It is not meant to be a happy story about a vacation, especially when the main character – one Edith – is not exactly at this hotel of her own free will. There are factors. Of which – of course – we shall discover over the course of this one, so I shall not divulge all. I don’t think I actually liked this book because I didn’t exactly like the main character. I suppose that’s admirable of course, to be able to write a main character is both sympathetic and unlikeable, but can I say I enjoyed the experience? Even the quite competent writing and sweeps of descriptive prose did little to sway my thoughts. Instead, I found my time in this book a bit claustrophobic, even overwhelming at times. Which now gives me pause as I wonder if that is an intentional device on the part of the author or if I just felt a bit removed from the drama of it all. The character work is brilliant and by far the best part of this book is discovering all the backgrounds and little secrets of the other residents in the hotel. Fascinating stories could be written about each of the other characters – the Puseys! Monica (woman with the dog)! Mme de Bonneuil! Mr. Neville! (Wait, no. No one wants his story) and I admire the fact that the author made them all feel so real – almost more real than Edith at times. Again though…is that not intentional? I hesitate to talk too much of the main themes of this work as it is very much a look at questions regarding a woman’s place in the world and the expectations and societal pressures working upon her. While there are of certainty male characters in this book, firstly none of them are exactly stand-up. Secondly, this is not a book about men. Rather, it’s a book about women (well, English well-to-do women) and engaged in very much prodding at the fabric of society that has led them to this little hotel on the lake. My experiences lead me to hesitation to speak further. I shall at least say that I didn’t find this book a warm one, but I daresay it’s not intended to be.

A Place to Hang the Moon

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One more book that I didn’t have time to review earlier!

38. The Sleepwalkers: How Europe Went to War in 1914 by Christopher Clark. A wonderful history read. For some reason I’ve been interested in WWI history lately, so this book hit the spot. A popular history, to be sure, but quite well researched (a note on that – I thought I still had a lot to read through when I hit the end notes – over a hundred pages of end-notes/citations!) For those who have studied up on WW1 and know all there is to know, this book probably isn’t adding much. But for the novice (such as myself), this book had so much in it that I’d never read or heard before. I will confess this one took me a bit to get through(think I’ve been working on it these past 2-3 months or so?), but that isn’t a bad thing. This book is dense and full of all the names and places and events and so as gripping as the subject is, it doesn’t lend to a quick read.

But what does this book focus on? It’s not about the war itself or the battles. Very little military dogma (though some obviously does come in as a discussion of larger strategy). Rather, this book is about the lead-up to the Great War, starting with events early in the 20th century and how Europe inexorably(?) sleepwalks(!) towards continental war. Each country gets focus sections and the author weaves together the threads of each country’s own dramas and motivations and how the seeming myopia of various actors contributes towards the muddle of European affairs and how things degenerate so tragically into interstate conflict. One of the questions everyone asks about WW1 is – who started it? Who is to blame? Who are the bad guys? While now the opinion is relatively common that WW1 was no one country’s fault – instead a rather tragic result of the mixture of the unwieldy alliance structure of Europe and the inflexible military doctrines of its players – still one wonders how Europe blundered into such a bloody morass. This book attempts to explain and though the author doesn’t quite present us with a neat and tidy conclusion – for any such attempt is folly – he does strive to show us how and why each state did what it did. Each state and its actors felt themselves constrained and forced along the path and that it was only the acts of other states that forced their hand. It’s remarkable how human a trait it is to always see the fault and assume the worst in the country across the table. I could attempt to spin my own thoughts together and come with a take, but I hesitate to tread where far greater minds have trod. I will say that while I understand why certain states did what they did, if I had to apportion blame (for truly, we all love to point the finger!), I would glare pointedly in the direction of both Austria-Hungary and Russia. Both of these states acted in ways that helped tip some of the initial dominoes that led so catastrophically to war, and did they have to? I would argue not, though again – I understand now better than I did before why. Russia in particular – oh Russia, why did you stir things up so? Yes, it’s easy to blame chaotic messy Serbia, but really – Russia should know better. But really, every nation shoulders its share of blame. It’s interesting reading this because while it’s easy to read some of the details of this history and assume war was inevitable, it appears as if conditions were actually becoming more adverse to war between 1913-1914. Yet…one assassination that was years in the making, and Austria-Hungary felt its hand forced if it were to avert its own seemingly predestined collapse and then of course Serbia could only respond a certain way – especially knowing Russia urged them on, because of course France made sure that Russia didn’t lose its nerve and of course, so too did England not overly discourage its French allies and then what could Germany do when mobilized against by the growing might of Russia and so and so and so. The few pages in which the author shows the last few hours and days of July were truly gripping. Especially seeing the actions and reactions in Moscow as the Russian high command took the fateful steps towards war.

I have let this review go on far too long. I’ve been living this book for the past few months you see, and even now the events and personages whirl around inside my head. Is this book perfect? No, of course not. The middle does drag just a bit, especially as it seems the narrative force slows and one is slightly unsure where the author is going with some of his discussions on various conditions on the continent. And there are so many people who play pivotal roles in this drama, of course it is not easy to remember who they all are (I cannot claim to be one whose memory is up to this task). The author does do a remarkable job attempting to humanize and bring out in living color each character – these long-ago politicians and diplomats and rulers and generals seem so human!! Yet even with the inevitable dry spot here and there that will always come with the territory in such a book as this, I really did much enjoy this one. An utterly fascinating read. Reading a book like this inevitably makes one think of the present day and wonder how it applies. I hesitate to make too many comparisons. But if anything, I can say with certainty how tragic war is. Reading this book punctured many of the common myths of WW1 and I’m grateful I now have a (slightly) better understanding of its causes.

Remember Fall

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A few book reviews this Saturday afternoon.

33. Gentle and Lowly by Dane Ortlund. An encouraging and wonderful book meditating on the heart of Christ and the wonderful mercies of God towards those sinners who he calls into communion with himself. There are many thoughts I have on this one. In some ways, it is a very simple book, focusing on the unique bent of God’s heart towards compassion and mercy (particularly brought to light in the chapter on God’s natural work of mercy and his strange work of wrath). In other ways, this book is quite a difficult one to read and understand, precisely because it is a book seeking to dig deep into the nature of God and to comprehend his attributes and very heart. And God is God. And we are not God. And to fully and completely understand God is beyond us. Hence there are times when my mind fuzzed as I sought to grasp the realities of God the author was attempting to unveil. And there are times when I was slightly wary of some of the concepts laid forth, especially as I was worried that a focus on the “gentle and lowly” nature of Christ’s heart would undermine the divine simplicity of God. I still fear I am not quite intellectually equipped to grasp all that I read. Yet? This book was wonderful at pointing towards Scripture (and other authors) and what they reveal about the nature of God. I simply loved all the authors (predominately Puritans – and Jonathan Edwards!) quoted and I will confess that probably most of my favourite parts of this book was reading these quotes. The author did do a good job of pulling these quotes into a cohesive whole and bringing to my mind thoughts about God that aided in my understanding and worship of Him!

I will need to read this one again. It is one of those uniquely wonderful books that combines both devotional thought and deep theological study. The chapters are short enough that one can read one in a few minutes and spend time meditating on what has been read. Yet there is enough deep theology packed within that I never felt the author was being overly simplistic or trite. If anything, this book undid some of my expectations (that this was just a light fluffy book about the love of Christ) and I’m most grateful I read it. I still believe there are some theological implications that I haven’t fully understood and I worry there are some who could read this book and come away confused about the nature of God, yet is that not the danger in any book written of God? I appreciate this book as being one that encourages us to think more on the heart of God.

34. A Severed Wasp by Madeleine L’Engle. A book that left me feeling conflicted. L’Engle writes gorgeously and to read this book of hers is to be swept up into a story of numerous characters that feel, act and speak like real people. Yet there are also parts of this book that simply irked me and felt a bit artificial at times. I love L’Engle usually so it pains me that this book just didn’t work quite as well for me (and I seem to remember I liked it more when I first read it!). Possibly reading it right after A Small Rain was not a good idea, as now that first book seems unmistakably superior to this one. I do appreciate this but do not think I’d read it again if it were not a sequel to A Small Rain. That book felt fresh and artless whereas this one feels a bit…overdone. I will echo thoughts I remember having the first time, that it does feel a bit as if Katherine Forrester (a remarkable character!) is almost too above reproach in this one. This book almost feels hagiographic at times! Indeed, she becomes a confessor to practically every character in this book, which felt a bit odd, but I think was a deliberate choice by the author. This read, I also realized some of the flashback sequences that revealed Katherine’s life post Small Rain had parts in them that bothered me much more this time. Surely this is just L’Engle sharing realities of life and attempting to show the costs of suffering, yet still…there were choices made that made me sad. No more said of that now.

Anyways, it seems like I’m being entirely negative and I feel a bit sad for that. There were elements of this book that I loved. L’Engle as always is remarkably good at showing the small everyday parts of life that so many people gloss over. I love the friendship between Katherine and Emily and how Katherine does such a good job of caring for Emily in her pain. I did love the large cast of characters, even if there are some broadly drawn ones that do not perhaps survive closer look. And of course, I love the reflections and meditation on both music and religion, and what it means to worship God. I do not think I fully agree with all of L’Engle’s conclusions, but I did appreciate her attempting to explore her theology in a bit more depth. Also – there is a cynicism and world-weariness in this book that I perhaps did not catch the first time – maybe it is just what comes with being a more mature author, yet still I did not appreciate as much on this read. Is this a bad book? No, it’s not. But definitely one that is nearer the bottom of my personal ranking of L’Engle’s works.

What is this Feeling

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A little book review this rainy Sunday afternoon.

32. Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange. A book that’s simultaneously an easy read while also being very likely the most depressing book I’ll read all year. And yes before everyone chimes in, I’m well aware that depressing books can and often are worthwhile in how they point out the horror of all that’s been and was and still is right under our noses. Still though? Doesn’t mean these books – or this one in particular – are quite the type of books I love to read. This book is a rough one. It frankly unveils the horrors of both addiction and loss of cultural identity as it explores the aftershocks and still reverberating effects of the systemic erasure of Native American life and culture throughout the United States. Sometimes one would wish that we lived in a world where such horrors were not perpetrated by those in power, yet we cannot close our mind to history or deny that such events ever existed. And so I’m grateful for books like this that seek to show through the sweep of history and might-have-been personal narrative that the brokenness of this world is not so easily fixed as some might believe. I also found reading it a troubling experience, a lot of content warnings here, as the saying goes. I really do hate reading books with addiction themes. And…pretty much every single main character in this book struggles with such. I don’t think I could read this book again. Yet still – I did breathe a sigh of relief to see signs of hope at the very end of this tale, a hope that points to something better beyond the curve of the road ahead. As much as addiction and loss are all over this book, there is also just a bit of recovery.

And beyond the addiction themes, there are many discussions of identity and what it means to have a certain cultural identity. What is cultural identity and what brings such? Is it blood, is it cultural heritage, is it geographical longevity and ties to a certain piece of land? Is it familial connections or is it merely knowledge and being connected to that which came before? We all long for an identity as such – we wish to be known and valued for who we are – but who are we? It is difficult for me to overmuch critically analyse this book as I’m aware there are many questions that I am ill qualified to answer. This is a book written from a cultural minority viewpoint and thus questions are raised that I have never had to face sheerly due to the – at least outward – fact that I am in a cultural majority position. Does this mean I have the luxury of not thinking or caring about my cultural and/or ethnographic identity? I would argue part of my apathy in regards to such lies with my belief in Christ and that my true identity is found in being a Christian. Such tags as “race/colour/nation” are not ones I resonate with and find them less than helpful at times. Yet still I must and do recognize it is easier for me to shelve those labels as I don’t have to live in a society in which I am a minority. I must remember this. I don’t think this is a book I shall revisit and likely one I will not keep on my shelf. Yet. This book spawned a lot of thought and I am grateful for such, as much as I did not always agree with the author on some of the answers he pointed towards. I am grateful for the author sharing his perspectives and yes, even a piece of his story.

Lions and Cloudscapes

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I am a bit too far behind on logging books so decided I really should get to work on that. Hope this doesn’t take too long, but no promises!!

28. Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. I have now read the penultimate unread Austen that I will ever read. And that strikes me with sadness, but it would not do to let that impede me from reading these last two (this one and Mansfield) – for is it not terrible to think of me hoarding unread books indefinitely? And thus it happened this past month that I finally lifted this book off the shelf and turned to the first page and started a delightful journey. For in truth this book was a delight. Does it bear the marks of a first work? Which – upon further research – I discovered this was the first of her books that she completed, even though it wasn’t published until after her death. And yes, to answer my above. This book definitely is a bit less mature and full than her later works. It’s absurd in many ways and definitely the least “Austen” Austen I’ve ever read, but still I kind of love it? This book is humorous, ironic, playful in all the right ways. Her writing is quite arch and ridiculous and I love it. And even though the main character – one Catherine Morland – is quite silly and preposterous at times, I only need to remember that she is in actuality only seventeen for it to all make sense again. There is lots in this one to love and I shall certainly return to it for re-reads in future.

29. Evangelism in a Skeptical World by Sam Chan. A solid book helping me to understand that evangelism may – and should – look different in different cultural contexts, including generational ones. I’ve been thinking on this subject recently, especially after reading the biography of John Paton a few months back, and so this book came at the right time for me. Too often I feel it’s easy to think of “evangelism” or “sharing the gospel” as something that must be done in a certain way or following a certain method, and Chan does a great job of refuting that mindset. In truth, sharing the gospel is simply telling someone the truth of how God has made a way to have real relationship with Him and why this is something utterly existentially necessary to every person on this earth. In stating the previous sentence as I have, I have already made choices in how to present this truth and there are leanings and perspectives that I have unwittingly betrayed as I attempted to state the good news of God’s gospel in as simple a fashion as possible. Chan helps us understand some generational shifts that have taken place and how we (at least those of us in the West, for he speaks to predominately a Western audience here) have moved perhaps past the point where a strictly apologetical and fact-based approach resonates with the majority of people. I was intrigued reading about the shifts that have taken place and how Chan has in his own ministry noted that people respond to gospel presentations very differently now than even twenty years ago. Maybe we in the West now respond to more of a story-based approach than the old more structured gospel presentations (such as the Four Laws, bridge diagram, etc, etc). I am very much simplifying this book but what I’m saying here is what stuck with me. Chan attempts to go much deeper and to highlight and give examples for different methods of sharing God’s gospel with others that may be more effective. In all of this, the part of me that hates pragmatic Christianity and tactical discussions cringed a bit. Surely, it is not us who can change the hearts of man? May it never be thought. And Chan rightfully affirms that only God can truly change the hearts of men and women and draw them to Himself. But does God not use such mean instruments as ourselves? And give us wisdom to understand different ways of communicating and approaching others with the greatest story ever told? And so I appreciate this book as one that makes one think more on how we might be lights and witnesses in this modern age. Perhaps I do need to consider more carefully my friend groups and how I might live my life in such a way to more clearly and boldly proclaim Christ. Maybe I do need to think on how I present Christ to others and how the stories I tell can be used by God. Part of me winces a bit at how much Chan loves the story or example method in his talks and speeches. I don’t think I will ever love the leaning on such. Yet I do understand that there are times when stories and parables are brutally effective and useful. Did not Jesus tell stories? Did not Jesus give examples from real life to indicate spiritual truths? So might I too not get too defensive when I hear of preachers and pastors using stories to point to the truths of God. This has been a bit of a rambling review and I apologise for that. I will say this book was worthwhile and made me think a lot about evangelism and how I approach it. Very worthwhile read for that.

30. An Experiment in Criticism by C.S. Lewis. As anything written by Lewis, a very worthwhile read. I much enjoyed this little book (or really almost an essay) sharing Lewis’s thoughts on literary criticism and the desired result of reading a truly good book. As always with Lewis, he makes some firm statements that really cannot quite be backed up, yet I did chuckle as I felt very validated on my stances on re-reading (very very pro) and also enjoyed Lewis making quite clear that reading a work is not simply about the imparting of information for its own sake but that in actuality the reader when reading enters into an actual transformative experience – i.e., the reader cannot get the same effect simply by reading the summary of a work, but that a work is the sum of its parts – content, prose, structure all, and if one truly engages with it will reap a corresponding reward.

I feel as if my mind doesn’t quite work at the same level as Lewis’s (shocking I know), and so it’s challenging for me to truly grapple with this book as I feel it deserves. Yet if anything, I think it made me revisit and think on why I love the books I do. And it also made me desirous to continue to seek better books and to read the truly excellent. Lewis is a bit much sometimes when he attempts to classify the types of books and types of readers that fill the earth. Maybe a bit dogmatic yes and in this day and age, he can even strike one as strident. Yet also I think we could use a bit more of Lewis in this modern age. It is bracing to remember and be reminded of the fact of objective beauty and truth. Yes, almost transgressive no? What does that say about us? And Lewis does not deny the usefulness and delight of different types of works. He is anything but haughtily pretentious in his discussions of literature. He sees the value in works that critics would sneer at, and for that I love him.

31. The Small Rain by Madeleine L’Engle. I still love this one. It is passionate and dreamy in all the best ways. It is a tale of a girl who has yet to truly understand the world or herself. It is the tale of a girl who sees with the maturity of one beyond her years because she has already seen so much and been through so much yet you’re often reminded that she is really just a girl. Katherine Forrester is one of my favourite characters to revisit – as I’ve been reminded as I read this one – and though at times she seems almost alien in the way she hovers above the text, there are brutal moments when all crashes down to earth and Katherine is revealed as oh so human. For a first book, this is revelatory. If only I could write like L’Engle. There are some of her quirks that will be further utilized in later books, but there is also a freshness here. Yes, it’s an adult book and thus some heavy themes – do not read this if you want a light read! – yet this book does not delight in the darkness. There are some descriptive passages that made me almost want to weep for beauty. Yes yes, I know I’m biased because I love L’Engle’s writing so, yet I truly believe this is a wonderful book. This is a book that just works as a late-night read, good for being curled up on the couch with a candle burning as one’s mind slips into a state suspended between the waking world and the world of dreams.

Another Turn about the Room

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A few book thoughts this grey Saturday.

26. Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. A strange and beautiful delight of a book. Typically one reads a book and feels that one has a decent understanding of it and feels satisfied upon reaching its close. To the contrary with this one – I feel that five more rereads will not begin to plumb its depths. And I greatly look forward to reading it again. I could talk more about the many characters who are so richly presented and teased throughout – the titular Clarissa, Peter Walsh, the Warren Smiths, even all the smaller bits that still receive more lavish study and attention than the main characters in most other novels – the scene-stealing Sally Seton, the contradictory Mr. Dalloway, Elizabeth and Miss Kilman and others. I think that’s what I loved most about this book, the empathetic and deep look into the lives of those who in other cases would be passed over as mere superficial things. Of course the imagery and description is simply luscious. This book is veritably cinematic. But even so, much of the action is internal and in the minds of the characters we follow, so in a way – is this a story that can only be told properly in the form of a novel? Perhaps perhaps. I feel as if I need to read this again in a year or so and see how it strikes me then. The storyline following young Septimus and Rezia – powerful and affecting and the scene near its close still haunts my dreams. I think on how Septimus and Clarissa mirror each other in certain ways yet wonder on the thread that binds them. Also it’s fascinating seeing the comparison and contrast between Sally and Clarissa and the lives they once led and the lives they now lead. Are they so different now after all? Many more words I could write but I fear without insight. This book is not one that can be entirely captured or comprehended on first read.

27. Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar. This book is written masterfully yet I confess I struggled with it at times. The themes in this one are deep and rich and highlight the inability of the mundane and human to fulfill the eternal longings of the soul. For what are we on this earth? Why do our hearts cry? I wish I could write half as well as this author, whose prose is such that it quickly and incisively places one in the midst of a richly textured scene, all the particulars laid out that one can imagine you’re actually there, watching and hearing and getting swept up in the drama of this young man Cyrus Shams. The character work is strong and though I’m not always a fan of many POVs, the author here handles it marvelously, even with the dream sequences that while a bit self-indulgent, are a delight to read and aid well in developing and revealing the character of our protagonist. I do feel though that the scenes where Cyrus is center were my favourite and I was always excited to get another glimpse through his eyes. This book is a weird one yet wonderful – showing us a man who feels a bit lost and searching for meaning, trying to understand how an Iranian-American can feel at all at home in the Midwest, USA. Does he have a home? Or will he forever be an outcast, a wandering pilgrim in a land that knows him not? I will always resonate with a book and protagonist that has poetry and art – I do love a book where I feel a bit akin to one who feels so fulfilled in writing and where the struggles of such are laid bare. There is a great line about the best part of writing being what comes after it has been accomplished and the satisfaction and feeling of completion it brings. I wish I could whole-heartedly recommend, but as those who know me would not be surprised at, I did cringe and wince at times at the profane and graphic content in this book. Not a fan, though yes it is a part of reality of life. Still, I struggled with it and thus would not recommend this book to all. Yet! There is beauty in this book at times. A bit dreamy and searching and I appreciate reading the heart cries of one who knows this world is not enough.

oh Winter where is thy sting?

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17. Song of Spheres by Walker Larson. Well, this book was definitely interesting. It was a book that I was hoping to love – elements of science, space travel, philosophical questions all. Yet at the end of the day, I found it wanting. Several reasons and I’ll be brief because I don’t really want to spend all that much time writing about this one. Spoilers follow so please be warned if you care for that sort of thing. Firstly, the scientific concepts at the core of this one threw me for a bit of a loop and I’m not quite sure if the author believes in a geocentric model of the universe or not, but I’m left puzzled. I suppose from a conspiracy theory perspective, it’s fascinating to believe it might be true. But for a whole book centered on it? Oh wow. Oh dear. I will give this book some points since I now want to read some actual non-fiction books on astronomy and the earth since this book annoyed me with so much of its science. So yeah, if you want a thriller about a bunch of scientists proving that the sun revolves around the earth? This is your book. Secondly, the prose and craft in this book were…lacking. Thirdly, as much as the book hints and suggestively raises its eyebrow at philosophical questions and the place of man in the world, it never quite goes there. That frustrated me. Either go there or don’t. If you want a book discussing the meaning of life and and the place and purpose of mankind and the possibility of God…well, then, dive in!! This book dances around the edges and never quite commits. All that said? It did keep my attention! I read it in only 2 nights because I really did want to see how the author would wrap up this story. There are certainly thrilling moments! I slightly apologize for being so harsh here, especially as I’m sure this author is still learning his craft and I can certainly not confess I could write anything better. But poor storytelling and wonky science annoys me. What can I say?

Target Bridge is Falling Down Falling Down

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All the books all the books!!

10. Books in Black or Red by Edmund Lester Pearson. Ok so this book was not what I was expecting. It’s more of a hodgepodge of essays on bookish matters than a cohesive narrative and well…I am warned straight up in the author’s note of such. So really it is my own issue that I was a bit caught off guard with how random this book is. But there are some gems here, for sure! If you like books and/or reading and want to read about attitudes towards books in the early twentieth century, well then – you may like this! It is very random though, be warned. Some of the chapters are great, particularly the chapter on the Cary Girls and the Book Shop chapters. Other than that, I think this book is of value primarily for its historical value – we peek from a window into early 1920s America (specifically New York City) and smile as we see the author’s thoughts on dime novels, nonsense tales, literary personae and modern trends. We see sly asides here and there (Prohibition has begun!) and we get a flavor of this author’s very firmly cynical attitudes toward modern ideas of progress. I enjoyed this less than I thought I would, simply because there is much in this book that sailed over my head, as so many of the books and tales he references are…much less known now. Maybe this book hit harder back in the 1920s, I know not. Still though, grateful to have read this and contrary to all the eye-rolling the author would send my way for doing this, I’m likely to keep this book on my shelf purely because of its 1923 print date. Hey, at least I don’t organize my books by colour.

11. The Narrow Road Between Desires by Patrick Rothfuss. I just don’t know anymore, Mr. Rothfuss. I really was excited to read this one – it has been far too long since I’ve read any new material from your pen and I recently discovered this on the shelves of a bookstore in Paris. What! New Rothfuss?!? I must read. Clearly I have been out of the loop and didn’t realize this had dropped. Everything Rothfuss has written, I’ve loved. Slow Regard of Silent Things – purely fantastic and delightful and fully of whimsy and joy and melancholy all. I really must revisit it, now that I think so fondly of my memory of it. And of course the first two books of the Kingkiller Chronicle are superb. Not without flaws, no. But fantastic books in their own right and even if the third book never comes out, I’m ok with just those two on my shelf and I shall re-read every now and again. But…what is up with this Bast novella? Where is the magic, where is the joy? I found the prose strangely wooden and affected. It didn’t have the wonder and joy I remember from the previous works from Rothfuss’ pen. Maybe I have just changed? Maybe if I re-read Name of the Wind I’ll find myself similarly left cold? I think not, but now I shudder at the small possibility. But this book did not do it for me. Honestly as much as I complain about the lacking prose (compared to what I know Rothfuss can do), I think the real problem here is the protagonist. I don’t like Bast. I didn’t realize how much his character irked me until now, but this book did him no favours. I suppose Rothfuss intends to show the wild fae nature of Bast in all his sly glory, yet…honestly? Bast is a creeper. The majority of this book is him hanging around with small children and setting up a situation to spy on a young woman in her bath. Um ok, cool. And maybe this is just me being hyper sensitive and modern in my sensibilities but…I didn’t enjoy witnessing Bast in all his prancing, prying and creepy ways. Not sure if the author entirely realizes it or not. I feel a bit bad because I really do appreciate Rothfuss’ other works. And writing these harsh words feels a bit of a betrayal. But…something is off about this one. And reading his author’s note at the end didn’t help much. Instead of smiling at him providing a touchingly intimate tale about his children and his desire to write a “good” story for them, I just noticed the way he compared the themes in this one to the inferior themes in books such as Narnia, Lord of the Rings, etc. I’m sorry but…no? The truth and beauty in those books are so far above anything this novella could hope to dream of.

unchained

James HoganLeave a comment

Another day, another book.

6. James by Percival Everett. A quick read but certainly not an easy one. This book is one that is eminently readable and hard to put down, as the story moves quick and true and without mercy, much like the big river that features so prominently. It is hard to go into this book without expectations, as the book that inspired this one is so well known (and indeed, one I read again several years back so it is fresh in my mind). So I knew this book was a companion piece with Huck Finn – a parallel re-telling, so it might be thought. And well. Yes? But this book is quite different in both tone and style. Everett certainly doesn’t have as light a touch with his prose. Whereas Twain’s tale bobs and floats along and written masterfully as a biting commentary on contemporary society, Everett’s book isn’t trying to win any awards for beauty. The writing is hard-edged, concise, utterly direct. There is an elegant brutality to Everett’s prose, as surely as he lays bare the utter brutality of 19th-century America’s peculiar institution. Do not expect any hands to be held or any guns to go unfired. This book will not coddle you. Yet this book very much is in dialogue with Twain’s masterpiece. They are telling the same story with the same basic aim, yet in very different fashions. Twain’s tale is the story of a boy told through the eyes of a boy, with all the wit and sparkle that Twain can muster. Everett’s narrative is the story of a man told through the eyes of a man, with all the pain and rage and sheer disbelief for what one man can do to another. Both of these books dissect the idea of the nature of man and the humanity of such (or lack thereof) but the focuses are different. For how could they not be? The story of a white boy vs the story of a black man. How do they compare? Huck Finn – even with all the darkness that lurks and shrieks – is a story of a boy growing up. James is the story of a man grown who has seen too much.

Why am I talking so much about Twain’s novel? I think Everett demands such. He is consciously writing in response to Twain and he is very deliberate in how he tells (and re-tells) the story that Twain first put to page. Because at the end of the day, as much as Twain does what he can to show the shocking inhumanity of those who proclaim to be so pious, Everett can and does do so much more as he both highlights the humanity of blacks while laying bare the utter inhumanity and animality of whites. There are quibbles I could make. I’m not sure all of Everett’s changes to the narrative quite work (especially Huck’s origin story – seemingly attempting to redeem him from the sin of whiteness?) and while I find myself amused by the way Everett uses language to highlight the demarcation between black and white society, the conceit eventually wears bare. Yet I think Everett’s attempts to portray the Other in race-essentialism-fashion hammer home the point of the evils of a race-based society. There is a tinge of discomfort at the depths Everett goes to show the amorality and evil of white society. Yet that is proper and I don’t think needs to be excused. The ending of this book is difficult to read. You could argue that Everett’s work lacks nuance, but well…nuance isn’t the point here. This is supposed to be a hard book to stomach. We should be frankly shocked and horrified at the tale Everett tells. This is not an easy book to read. Nor should it be.

Definitely Full of Wind

James HoganLeave a comment

A little book review of a big book.

5. Wind and Truth by Brandon Sanderson. I am disappointed but not surprised. This book was enjoyable enough in its own right and I read it fairly quickly, all things considered. Yet? This book, the ending to the first major arc in Brandon Sanderson’s magnum opus series, was not a book I found joy in reading. The plot hooked me well enough! If anything, this book has reinforced my belief that Sanderson is a magnificent plotter. He has his story and he knows where he’s going with it. The ending of this book was actually thrilling and the climax caught me genuinely off guard. Yet it fit so well (and was even well sign posted earlier in the book if I’d been paying attention!) and I am actually intrigued to see how the latter half of the Stormlight Archive plays out. The plot is all there. Yet. Do I actually want to read the latter half of the Stormlight Archive? Honestly? I may pass. The reading experience is getting more and more excruciating with each successive book. This may be worse than Rhythm of War. And that was the previous low, in my opinion. Am I being overly harsh? Possibly. Am I just being contrary? Also very possibly. I think I’m just frustrated because I care. I want Sanderson’s books to be great. I’ve seen and read his books that are! Yet this book has little of the charm, whimsy, creativity or gravitas of his earlier books. The character beats are starting to feel rote, even as the plethora of one-liners and italics proclaim the important moments just to make sure that we don’t miss them. (I’m sorry. The italics are something that I just continue to roll my eyes at as they grate me so) And the prose – while Sanderson’s prose has never been great – has continued to decline in quality? Maybe I’m being overly harsh. I know I can’t write like Sanderson and I’m grateful that he has a story he wants to tell. But his characters are continuing to sound more and more similar to each other and less and less like real people. The character moments Sanderson is trying to highlight are straining to be real and vivid yet for all that the author is doing to tell, I struggle to see the show. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just starting to burn out on Sanderson? Way of Kings and Words of Radiance were two books I much enjoyed. The next two? Less so. And this one? It’s similar. Not abysmal yet…not great. Not even good. Average? Yes, I suppose so. As stated earlier, I really did enjoy some of the ending beats. Dalinar’s decision caught me by surprised and propelled things far more forward than I was expecting. I could talk about the other characters but I don’t really want to bother. Except Adolin. Adolin continues to be awesome and I will always love him.

At the end of the day? I read this fairly quickly because I was genuinely interested to see where Sanderson was going. Not sure if or when I’ll want to re-read though, with the journey being such a slog. There is little beauty in this book, little that I will want to return to. Also the truth – as grandiosely self-proclaimed as it is – is somewhat barren in this one. The philosophies espoused are humanistic in the extreme, self-centered and self-glorifying. The grand truths unveiled are trite and simplistic. There is very little in the base philosophy of this book to enliven and hearten the soul. Many books lack true vigor of truth and beauty. I know this. Maybe with this one it grates more simply because of how loudly the book protests the worth of which it contains. Maybe. Or maybe I’m simply becoming slightly less eager to read works that don’t encourage my soul. Maybe this book truly is the pinnacle of modern fantasy. If so, that makes me sad. This may be the last Sanderson for me.