Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler



        I read Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler this week. This science fiction novel follows Lauren Olamina, a young black girl living in Southern California where the American government has practically collapsed. Outside the walls of the run-down gated community Lauren lives in, anarchy reigns. Poverty is rampant and resources are scarce, and people are desperate enough to kill over a pair of shoes. Plus, there’s a new drug on the street: pyro, a drug that makes watching fires burn feel as good as sex. This leads to widespread arson, and there’s no one to stop it except corrupt cops who are more likely to loot than help.         To top it off, Lauren suffers from an illness known as hyperempathy syndrome—a delusive disorder in which Lauren feels both the pleasure and pain she perceives others to be feeling—that poses a particular challenge in a world where any weakness is targeted by human predators.
        I loved this book. I can’t think of a bad thing to say about it, other than that I was disappointed to learn that Butler got writer’s block when working on the third installment of this series, and never ended up finishing L
        The characters are well developed; even those who are unlikeable are sympathetic. In particular, Lauren’s foolhardy, sociopathic brother Keith elicited my sympathy despite his general awfulness. Lauren herself is wise beyond her years, compassionate, and very insightful. Lauren, a Baptist minister’s daughter, finds that she doesn’t believe in her father’s God. Instead, through her observation of her surroundings, she comes to one ineffable conclusion: God is Change. Lauren keeps a journal of her observations on the nature of God written in the form of verse. This becomes the basis of Earthseed, a creed that Lauren espouses that aims to help humanity shape God and its own future. I found all of the Earthseed verses to be insightful, well thought out, and really convincing! As Lauren points out, there is no power more pervasive than Change.
        The premise of the book is eerily believable. Butler wrote this book as a projection of how our actions, or lack of actions, will affect the future. Butler considered numerous factors when envisioning a dystopian future, such as “drugs and the effects of drugs on the children of drug addicts. I looked at the growing rich/poor gap, at throwaway labor, at our willingness to build and fill prisons, our reluctance to build and repair schools and libraries, and at our assault on the environment. In particular, I looked at global warming and the ways in which it’s likely to change things for us.” All of these factors are incorporated seamlessly into Butler’s vision of the future, and it’s a terrifying one. Global warming has led to an inflation of food and water prices, there is a scarcity of both resources and paying jobs, and desperation is leading to increasing levels of societal dissolution. This is characterized by a society separated along economic strata, and widespread abuse of the poor.
        Although this is a coming of age story, I wouldn’t recommend this book to young readers. There is a lot of graphic content in this novel, and a lot of elements that could potentially trigger even adult readers, including references to extreme poverty, rape, murder, torture, cannibalism, animal deaths, and slavery. There is also an extreme May-December relationship (age difference of almost 50 years) that may make some readers uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I would recommend pushing past discomfort because this novel is worth reading. This book makes readers consider where we are headed as a country, and how our actions (or lack thereof) contribute to the future. I look forward to reading the next book in the series, Parable of the Talents.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin


        This week I read A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin. The story follows a young boy named Ged, called the Sparrowhawk, who shows signs of great power as a young age. The story details how Ged learns magic and overcomes his first obstacle on the path to greatness.
        I had been meaning to read this one for awhile since it pops up on many “top fantasy” lists, but I have to admit I was pretty disappointed. The book starts out rather promising, but I quickly lost interest.
Things I liked about A Wizard of Earthsea:
  • The chapters in which Ged is on the island of Roke learning magic are interesting. In the world of Earthsea, magic is essentially the power of knowing things’ true names. Knowing a thing’s true name enables a magician to transform or control it. Much of a wizard’s training is comprised of learning the true names of as many things as he can.
  • The world itself seems interesting, even if it isn’t fully elaborated. One thing in particular that I liked was the inclusion of some of the Gontish rituals. For instance, there is a naming ceremony that is described that serves as a rite of passage into adulthood. This new name is meant to be shared only with intimate friends, considering the power of names.
Things I disliked about the book:
  • The reader is told from the very first pages that Ged will become an Archmage and do a bunch of great things…so why should I keep reading?
  • Although Le Guin has created an interesting world, she doesn’t give her characters much to do! Ged is a bit of a loner and rarely interacts with other people. When he does, he is quick to take offense because he is prickly and proud. This leads Ged to challenge an older sorcerer to a magic display, which is expressly forbidden as it doesn’t serve Equilibrium. When the magic goes awry, Ged calls an evil shadow creature into the world that he spends the rest of the book either fleeing from or chasing in order to vanquish it. He goes on some side quests that don’t relate to the central plot of the book, and I was left wondering why Le Guin included these adventures. At these times the plot felt haphazard and spontaneous, which was probably because Le Guin made much of the story up as she went along, as she tells the reader in the Afterword. I could tell!
  • I didn’t like or identify with Ged. He is prideful, arrogant, and paranoid, and has few redeeming qualities. He overhears his mentor mention his great potential early on, and it ruins him. Ever after he thinks he’s hot stuff and this leads him into a world of trouble. Although he becomes more humble, it’s because his self-confidence is completely shattered. Ged is not likeable at either of these stages, and the book ends rather abruptly after he “becomes whole” again.
  • None of the characters were ever really developed or given motives or depth. Ged’s only friend, Vetch, only rides along on the adventure and doesn’t contribute. Ged’s rival, Jasper, exasperates him because he has good manners and summarily disappears after he pisses Ged off enough that he challenges him to a magic duel, never to be heard from again.
  • There aren’t almost any women in this book, and the few women who are shown are either trophy wives or wicked enchantresses. In fact, as early as page 6 of the novel, the author mentions “There is a saying on Gont, Weak as woman’s magic, and there was another saying, Wicked as woman’s magic.” Ged’s aunt, a witch, is said to know “nothing of the Balance and the Pattern which the true wizard knows and serves, and which keep him from using his spells unless real need demands.” This aunt is the only female character aside from an evil enchantress that is given any depth. For a book hailed as being so revolutionary in its inclusion of people of color, I’m pretty surprised that the cast of characters is so exclusively male (especially considering the author is a woman!).
  • I was able to predict how Ged would resolve his dilemma around halfway through the book, and was waiting impatiently for him to figure it out. The plot is too simple and predictable, and it never really gains momentum. Granted, this is a book written for adolescents, but I’ve read plenty of “Young Adult” fiction that was gripping despite being relatively simple.
        Overall, I was pretty bored reading this. It was a struggle to push through. I do not intend to read the rest of the Earthsea books.

Friday, July 11, 2014

The Princess Bride by William Goldman



        This week I read The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure by William Goldman. Going into this book I had a sense of trepidation because I (gasp) didn’t really get what the big deal was about TPB when I saw the movie several years ago. I guess I was taking myself a bit too seriously when I watched it, because I thought it was silly, melodramatic, and a bit saccharine. However, now that I’ve read the book, I get it; TPB is a satirical fantasy that makes mock of classic fairy tales, and none of it is meant to be taken seriously! With that understanding, I found the book funny, inventive, witty, and intelligent.
        I was immediately drawn in to the first chapter, which is from the perspective of the author, William Goldman. He describes how he went from being an unpromising student who refused to read to a still-not-very-promising student who couldn’t get enough of books after he was bedridden for a month with pneumonia. During that month, Goldman’s immigrant father read to him from The Princess Bride, a book written by fellow Florinese immigrant S. Morgenstern. Goldman’s father tells him that The Princess Bride is a tale of “Fencing. Fighting. Torture. Poison. True Love. Hate. Revenge. Giants. Hunters. Bad men. Good men. Beautifulest Ladies. Snakes. Spiders... Pain. Death. Brave men. Cowardly men. Strongest men. Chases. Escapes. Lies. Truths. Passion. Miracles.”—not to mention Rodents Of Unusual Size! and the story lives up to this description.
        For his son’s tenth birthday, Goldman hunts down a copy of The Princess Bride for him to read. His kid hates it, and Goldman can’t comprehend why until he opens the book and discovers that his father had elided over all of the boring stuff. Goldman, an author himself, takes it upon himself to create an abridged version of the novel. This is obviously a fictive narrative device; Goldman authored The Princess Bride in full. However, by framing the narrative as an abridgement of another author’s novel, Goldman is able to insert his own voice into the italicized abridgement notes within the text. These sections allow Goldman to share his own (also fictional) reactions to the story’s content from when he was a child first hearing it. They are funny and often serve to create suspense within the story as the reader waits to hear what happens next.
Things I liked:
  • The Princess Bride is situated in time based on inventions; the story takes place before Europe but after stew, blue jeans, and glamour. This very tongue-in-cheek way of situating the story took it out of the dimensions of the real and into the fantastic.
  • The characters are all lovable and unique, even the villains. The most efficient criminal organization in the world, the Sicilian Crowd, is comprised of three of the story’s most amusing characters: Inigo Montoya, a Spaniard whose fencing skills are unmatched and is on a mission of revenge; Fezzik, a giant whose strength is his greatest skill, but who secretly hates violence and loves rhyming; and Vizzini, the hunchback leader of the crew whose mental capabilities verge on the inconceivable!
  • Almost all events and places in the novel are worthy of capitalization: the Zoo of Death, the Cliffs of Insanity, the Rodents Of Unusual Size, etc. This is because, plainly said, they are epic.
  • I really liked the narrative devices used, including the abridgement commentary and the use of frame tales (wherein stories are told within stories, as is the case with the Sicilian Crowd, the Dread Pirate Roberts, etc.). The frame tales allow the reader to know and feel sympathy for the nominal villains, which is why they are so easily adopted as heroes later.
  • The book satirizes numerous genres very effectively, including romance, history, and fantasy. For example, Goldman satirizes the romance genre humorously when he has Humperdinck woo Buttercup:

        “‘I must court her now,’ said the Prince. ‘Leave us alone for a minute.’ He rode the white [horse] expertly down the hill.
        “Buttercup had never seen such a giant beast. Or such a rider.
        “‘I am your Prince and you will marry me,’ Humperdinck said.
        “Buttercup whispered, ‘I am your servant and I refuse.’
        “‘I am your prince and you cannot refuse.’
        “‘I am your loyal servant and I just did.’
        “‘Refusal means death.’
        “‘Kill me then.’
        “‘I am your Prince and I’m not that bad—how could you rather be dead than married to me?’
        “‘Because,’ Buttercup said, ‘marriage involves love, and that is not a pastime at which I excel. I tried once, and it went badly, and I am sworn never to love another.’
        “‘Love?’ said Prince Humperdinck. ‘Who mentioned love? Not me, I can tell you…’” (90).
        This is an example of how Goldman humorously defies so many of the conventions set out in both romance and fantasy literature.
Something I didn’t like:
  • All of the women in the novel are portrayed as either inconstant/flighty, nags, or passive bystanders. Buttercup, the novel’s main heroine, sometimes steps out of these boundaries, but I was left with the impression at the end of the novel that Buttercup was unworthy of her true love, Westley—but maybe that is part of Goldman’s message throughout the novel, that life isn’t fair—either way, I felt that there could have been more gender parity throughout the book. I was especially turned off when the narrator (Morgenstern) glibly mentions that “every girl” contemplates suicide at some point in her life.
        Overall, though, I really enjoyed reading The Princess Bride, so much so that I intend to re-watch the movie and give it another chance.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury


        Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury is a fantasy/horror novel about two thirteen-year-old best friends, Will Halloway and Jim Nightshade. As the boys are preoccupied with their upcoming birthdays, a mysterious carnival arrives late in the season: Cooger & Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show. The boys stay after hours on the first night of the carnival to look for a travelling salesman whose bag of wares they found lying abandoned near the rides. Instead, they meet the carnival’s proprietors, Mr. Cooger and Mr. Dark, also known as the Illustrated Man due to his numerous tattoos. The proprietors hand each boy a ticket for a free ride on the carousel, which they assure the boys will be in working order soon. The two men shoo the boys off but they, disbelieving that the carousel is broken, hide out of sight to see what the men do.
        What they see is incredible! Mr. Cooger rides the carousel, which is playing Chopin’s “Funeral March” in reverse, backwards, and as it spins, the years fall off him until he is a boy of thirteen again. This starts the boys out on a harrowing journey as the proprietors stalk the boys who know their secret, attempting to lure the boys with promises of making them older, an offer that appeals greatly to Jim. What the boys don’t know is that Mr. Dark’s tattoos link him to the numerous people, now the carnival’s sideshow freaks, who sold their souls to live out their fantasies at the carnival… and Mr. Dark is intent on adding the boys to his collection!
        This book was very interesting, but also very confusing to read. Stylistically, the narrative frequently resembles the stream of consciousness of the thirteen-year-old boys, and is thus riddled with run-on sentences and boggling imagery. For example:
“In front of the United Cigar Store on this before-noon Sunday with the bells of all churches ringing across here, colliding with each other there, showering sound from the sky now that the rain was spent, in front of the cigar store the Cherokee wooden Indian stood, his carved plumes pearled with water, oblivious to Catholic or Baptist bells, oblivious to the steadily approaching sun bright cymbals, the thumping pagan heart of the carnival band.”
        This kind of prose comprises the majority of the narrative, and frankly I found it confusing to read. While the prose sounds mellifluous when spoken aloud, when reading silently, it just becomes a jumble of images mashed together and loses all sense; I had to backtrack a lot in order to find the subjects and actions of sentences in order to make meaning of them. I can see why Bradbury might have chosen to write like this, as it reflects the mind states of the subjects and also creates an increased sense of wonder in an already fantastic story, but it didn’t really work for me the majority of the time. However, the times that this style of writing did work were really special:
“So there they go, Jim running slower to stay with Will, Will running faster to stay with Jim, Jim breaking two windows in a haunted house because Will’s along, Will breaking one window instead of none, because Jim’s watching. God, how we get our fingers in each other’s clay. That’s friendship, each playing the potter to see what shapes we can make out of the other.”
        In this instance, the use of run-on sentences and sentence fragments expresses the tirelessness of boys, youth, and friendship. The best words for Bradbury’s style of writing are “lyrical” and “evocative”—even when it doesn’t make complete sense it inspires images and feelings in the reader. That, and the themes that the novel explores, is why I still liked this book despite my problems with the prose style. Come to think of it, I’m sure that while I find the prose style to be a turn-off, others would characterize it as what makes this book so special. The book is engaging and even a little bit hypnotic and I found myself drawn in despite my initial hesitation.
        The book explores several themes, like friendship, good versus evil, sin and temptation, how everything has a time and a place, the power of laughter and smiles to dispel fear and death, nostalgia for youth, acceptance of mortality, and the necessity of pursuing life’s joys. The themes were obvious but subtle at the same time, and extremely sophisticated for what appears to be a novel aimed towards a younger demographic. Overall I would recommend reading it for the story and the themes, and decide for yourself whether Bradbury’s unique prose style works for you.