(Disclaimer: This series of posts is about fiction alone. Nonfiction is a whole other cup of tea.)
It's pretty easy to judge books. This one's good, that one's bad, the other is so-so. But, when asked to define a good book or a bad book, we often cannot come up with anything really intelligent. Some people say it depends on the characters... but then, who hasn't read a good book that also has rotten characters? Or what about a plot? Again, there are many good books that have indifferent plots. Bad books mirror good ones; they can have good characters or plots. So what really separates the good from the bad? The short answer is: A little bit of everything. But, since this is a blog and not a twitter account, I'll expand on that. This first post will focus on the most important thing a good book must have: A good moral foundation.
Nothing that is rotten at the core can be good. Books are no exception. For example, Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials series is about as rotten as they can be. From what I remember, they are fairly well written. I certainly enjoyed them... right up to the moment when I realized he was attacking my faith. Ultimately, the whole rancid trilogy is about how God doesn't really exist. He is a myth that has been invented to keep people in chains, blah, blah, blah. And kids should escape from His "tyranny" by... having sex. Well, at least by breaking the moral boundaries set by God. Since Chrisian ideas of the sacredness of sex are the things on which most atheists are fixated, having sex is the easiest (and most shocking) way for the kids to break away. The ultimate message of the book is rotten, and, by extension, whether it is well written or not is entirely irrelevant.
On the other hand, good books are built around a good core. Just one example of this is Michelle Buckman's Rachel's Contrition. In this story, a young woman with a dark past is troubled by depression and a host of other problems. But, with the help of other broken souls, she finds her way to a better place. Through the murky depths of addiction, loss, suffering, and sexual abuse of many kinds, the bright light of redemption shines through this book like a beam of sunlight on a rainy day. This beam casts a rainbow, reminding readers that God has promised to help all who seek His face. Now, this book is definitely well written. But, as has been established, it is its beautiful core that is the ultimate factor in whether or not it is a good book.
In short, where Pullman attempts to pull readers away from God, Buckman bucks them up with reminders of the vastness of God's mercy and of the beauty that exists in even very troubled souls. (Forgive the puns; I couldn't resist.) Whereas the one book is built on a foundation of hatred and lies, the other is supported by the strong arms of love and truth. Regardless of whether a book is well-written or not, it must have a good moral foundation in order to be good.
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Friday, March 30, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Except the Dying
(Written by Maureen Jennings. First book in the Murdoch Mysteries series.) Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary has quite a case on his hands. A servant girl was found dead in the snow - sans clothing. To make matters more complicated, she was pregnant. Where was she going on such a bitter night without a carriage? Why did she just lie down and die? Doesn't anyone know anything about her last few hours? And, most importantly, did someone help her to her death?
On a "Good Book" scale of one to ten, this ranks at about a two. The only reasons it doesn't reach lower are: Its good Victorian flavor and its lack of sex scenes. Other than that, there is really no reason why someone would want to read this book. The characters are generally either boring or annoying, the story is very much a cliché, and there is enough innuendo to stuff a mattress.
First, the characters. Now, I've seen most of the episodes from the first season of the Canadian television adaptation of this series of books. During that time, I fell in love with every one of the regular characters: Awkward but hard-working Constable Crabtree, gruff and humorous Inspector Brackenreid, professional and ladylike pathologist Doctor Ogden, and especially Murdoch, with his strong Catholic faith, shy nature, and head in the clouds of science. Then I read this book. Murdoch is totally different; none of the words I used to describe him would really apply. He's Catholic, though not particularly faithful, more disapproving than shy, and doesn't seem to be quite as involved in science. Constable Crabtree, instead of an awkward little bachelor, is a youngish married man with three kids. The Inspector, who hates politics in the shows, is fond of kissing up to various people in high places in the book. Doctor Ogden isn't even a character yet, although I am told she comes into the series later. In short, the characters were very much improved upon in the television series.
Next, the very straightforward story. Well, a young servant girl gets pregnant, and, although the culprit is unknown, it's pretty obvious that the man involved is the killer. Might it be the stable boy? Don't be ridiculous. What about the housekeeper's husband? Wrong again. Nope, it has to be someone from one of the city's more affluent families. It's not the son, either; he naturally has to be gay (something I saw from a mile off). In fact, I guessed the culprit almost from the outset, and the red herrings throughout the rest of the story turned out to be only mildly distracting.
Finally, the innuendo got a bit much. Or much too much. The victim was an unmarried mother and two key characters in this murder are prostitutes... and although the innuendo is written in Victorian language, it's still fairly clear. Page after page after page of sexual references gets very tiring, especially when there's really no humor, likeable characters, or interesting story to have as a counter-balance.
Though Jennings did a good job of using language and expressions that fit the Victorian time period of this historical novel, she did a very poor job of constructing a clean book with an interesting story and characters. Murdoch and Co. are fairly cardboard, the story is embarrassingly simple, and the innuendo is just too much. If you ever see this book on the shelf at the library, don't even waste the energy it takes to read the back cover.
My Rating: MT (constant innuendo, veiled homosexual reference, mild sexual content)
On a "Good Book" scale of one to ten, this ranks at about a two. The only reasons it doesn't reach lower are: Its good Victorian flavor and its lack of sex scenes. Other than that, there is really no reason why someone would want to read this book. The characters are generally either boring or annoying, the story is very much a cliché, and there is enough innuendo to stuff a mattress.
First, the characters. Now, I've seen most of the episodes from the first season of the Canadian television adaptation of this series of books. During that time, I fell in love with every one of the regular characters: Awkward but hard-working Constable Crabtree, gruff and humorous Inspector Brackenreid, professional and ladylike pathologist Doctor Ogden, and especially Murdoch, with his strong Catholic faith, shy nature, and head in the clouds of science. Then I read this book. Murdoch is totally different; none of the words I used to describe him would really apply. He's Catholic, though not particularly faithful, more disapproving than shy, and doesn't seem to be quite as involved in science. Constable Crabtree, instead of an awkward little bachelor, is a youngish married man with three kids. The Inspector, who hates politics in the shows, is fond of kissing up to various people in high places in the book. Doctor Ogden isn't even a character yet, although I am told she comes into the series later. In short, the characters were very much improved upon in the television series.
Next, the very straightforward story. Well, a young servant girl gets pregnant, and, although the culprit is unknown, it's pretty obvious that the man involved is the killer. Might it be the stable boy? Don't be ridiculous. What about the housekeeper's husband? Wrong again. Nope, it has to be someone from one of the city's more affluent families. It's not the son, either; he naturally has to be gay (something I saw from a mile off). In fact, I guessed the culprit almost from the outset, and the red herrings throughout the rest of the story turned out to be only mildly distracting.
Finally, the innuendo got a bit much. Or much too much. The victim was an unmarried mother and two key characters in this murder are prostitutes... and although the innuendo is written in Victorian language, it's still fairly clear. Page after page after page of sexual references gets very tiring, especially when there's really no humor, likeable characters, or interesting story to have as a counter-balance.
Though Jennings did a good job of using language and expressions that fit the Victorian time period of this historical novel, she did a very poor job of constructing a clean book with an interesting story and characters. Murdoch and Co. are fairly cardboard, the story is embarrassingly simple, and the innuendo is just too much. If you ever see this book on the shelf at the library, don't even waste the energy it takes to read the back cover.
My Rating: MT (constant innuendo, veiled homosexual reference, mild sexual content)
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
The Handmaid's Tale (1985)
(Written by Margaret Atwood.) Offred is a handmaid to Serena Joy, the wife of a Commander. But this isn't biblical times, and it isn't even as far east as Europe. Following a disaster of almost apocalyptic proportions, a group of heavily armed rebels has destroyed the government of the United States. The country is now called Gilead, and it is ruled according to fear and distrust. Women are taken out of the workforce and are assigned various rigid roles in society. Some are housekeepers called "Marthas." Some are the "Wives." Still others are "Handmaids" - childbearers who are not married to the children's fathers. In a society almost bereft of fertility, the burden of producing the next generation falls to these.
This book is very puzzling. At first, it seems very anti-organized religion - particularly anti-Catholic. The way the Handmaids are required to dress seems nearly identical to the habit the Daughters of Charity used to wear. The distorted view of sexuality - for procreation only - is one often attributed to the Catholic Church. The Gileadean regime uses the Bible to put a moral price tag on what it's doing. Those are only a few examples. But deeper into the book, it's revealed that things are not quite as they seem at first glance.
Gilead seems to be more interested in using vague hints and trappings of Christianity rather than any real form of Christianity itself. For example, the Bible is used as moral backup for what the regime wants to do. But the Bible is not made available to most of the people - and many "quotes" are either distorted or borrowed from another source. In short, the regime alters the evidence (the Bible) to fit its arguments, not the other way around.
So Gilead uses a vague idea (again, the Bible) that is typically considered to have moral weight in order to justify what is being done. For the most part, the regime gets away with this because no one has the tools to argue with them. Only trustworthy people in high places even have access to the Bible. In other words, the regime's argument is built on a foundation that is unassailable only because it is simply unavailable. That sounds more like relativism than Christianity, which has the widely available Word of God as its backup.
Any relativist moral argument eventually breaks down because it cannot have real evidence on which to build its foundation. Arguing that "what's okay for me doesn't have to be okay for you" is totally illogical. Not because it's false per se, but because, by its very nature, it has nothing to back it up. Think about that for a second. To what moral authority can relativists appeal in order to back up their claim that "good" is, in truth, relative? They have none; the whole point of relativism is to do away with moral authority entirely. Unlike modern relativists, the Gileadean regime in The Handmaid's Tale understands this need of evidence. Its response is to obfuscate and mutilate a known, trusted source. However, the essentials still remain the same. Relativists have no authority on their side, and the Gileadeans have only an invented authority.
Whether Atwood intended to weave this speculation on relativism into her book or not, the parallel can certainly be drawn. She is apparently an agnostic, and might possibly be anti-organized religion. But whatever her attitudes on religion, the complexity of her invented world and the interesting way in which Atwood deals with its problems make this a worthwhile read.
My Rating: MT (sexual content and references, sex scenes (not too graphic), reference to homosexuality, violence)
This book is very puzzling. At first, it seems very anti-organized religion - particularly anti-Catholic. The way the Handmaids are required to dress seems nearly identical to the habit the Daughters of Charity used to wear. The distorted view of sexuality - for procreation only - is one often attributed to the Catholic Church. The Gileadean regime uses the Bible to put a moral price tag on what it's doing. Those are only a few examples. But deeper into the book, it's revealed that things are not quite as they seem at first glance.
Gilead seems to be more interested in using vague hints and trappings of Christianity rather than any real form of Christianity itself. For example, the Bible is used as moral backup for what the regime wants to do. But the Bible is not made available to most of the people - and many "quotes" are either distorted or borrowed from another source. In short, the regime alters the evidence (the Bible) to fit its arguments, not the other way around.
So Gilead uses a vague idea (again, the Bible) that is typically considered to have moral weight in order to justify what is being done. For the most part, the regime gets away with this because no one has the tools to argue with them. Only trustworthy people in high places even have access to the Bible. In other words, the regime's argument is built on a foundation that is unassailable only because it is simply unavailable. That sounds more like relativism than Christianity, which has the widely available Word of God as its backup.
Any relativist moral argument eventually breaks down because it cannot have real evidence on which to build its foundation. Arguing that "what's okay for me doesn't have to be okay for you" is totally illogical. Not because it's false per se, but because, by its very nature, it has nothing to back it up. Think about that for a second. To what moral authority can relativists appeal in order to back up their claim that "good" is, in truth, relative? They have none; the whole point of relativism is to do away with moral authority entirely. Unlike modern relativists, the Gileadean regime in The Handmaid's Tale understands this need of evidence. Its response is to obfuscate and mutilate a known, trusted source. However, the essentials still remain the same. Relativists have no authority on their side, and the Gileadeans have only an invented authority.
Whether Atwood intended to weave this speculation on relativism into her book or not, the parallel can certainly be drawn. She is apparently an agnostic, and might possibly be anti-organized religion. But whatever her attitudes on religion, the complexity of her invented world and the interesting way in which Atwood deals with its problems make this a worthwhile read.
My Rating: MT (sexual content and references, sex scenes (not too graphic), reference to homosexuality, violence)
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
A Wrinkle In Time (1962)
(Written by Madeleine L'Engle. First book in the Time Quintet.) Meg Murry is not like other girls. In fact, she's not like other people, period. In the first place, her scientist father disappeared several years ago while working for the government. Second, her teachers - and the whole village - think she's an idiot. Well, moron, actually. Her little brother Charles Wallace is supposed to be the idiot. Meg is really a very intelligent girl, but she's a bit of a late bloomer. Charles Wallace is almost unbelievably intelligent, but he developed the reputation of an idiot as a baby, and reputations are hard to shake. Into this little nest of idiots and morons comes three strange old ladies. Their names are Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which, and they are not exactly human. Also, they have the ability to use the fifth dimension to travel around the universe fighting evil. And they know where Meg and Charles Wallace's father is.
One of my pet peeves is that there are too few really acceptable children's books written nowadays. Kids graduate to teen books long before they are really ready. But that just means that they graduate from innuendo to more explicit sexual content. Looking back on some books I read when I was about eleven, I'm very glad that I was... shall I say not exactly up to speed on innuendo and other semi-sexual content? At the time, I knew somehow that there was something wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on what. About the only safe harbors were Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, and Redwall.
A Wrinkle in Time, however, is completely appropriate for children - and challenging as well. Its story is easy enough to follow, but there are parts where kids need to stretch their imaginations. The universe can be stretched in and out of shape by anyone, given the proper training and experience, and there are fanstastic things like centaurs - with wings! - and brains separated from bodies. Mind control makes an appearance as well. But this sort of imaginational stretch should be pretty easy for anyone weaned on Disney movies or the Narnia books.
Finally, L'Engle makes it a point that kids don't all grow up and/or learn at the same rates. Everyone has their own schedule, she seems to say. Just because some kid is "behind," don't assume that kid is a moron. Even those who might very well have some sort of learning disability also have a special talent. This is a great message that kids need to hear: God has a plan in mind for you, and you're not going to be left behind.
My Rating: Borderline AGC/OK (frightening ideas (e.g. the brain), slight parent/child conflict)
One of my pet peeves is that there are too few really acceptable children's books written nowadays. Kids graduate to teen books long before they are really ready. But that just means that they graduate from innuendo to more explicit sexual content. Looking back on some books I read when I was about eleven, I'm very glad that I was... shall I say not exactly up to speed on innuendo and other semi-sexual content? At the time, I knew somehow that there was something wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on what. About the only safe harbors were Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, and Redwall.
A Wrinkle in Time, however, is completely appropriate for children - and challenging as well. Its story is easy enough to follow, but there are parts where kids need to stretch their imaginations. The universe can be stretched in and out of shape by anyone, given the proper training and experience, and there are fanstastic things like centaurs - with wings! - and brains separated from bodies. Mind control makes an appearance as well. But this sort of imaginational stretch should be pretty easy for anyone weaned on Disney movies or the Narnia books.
Finally, L'Engle makes it a point that kids don't all grow up and/or learn at the same rates. Everyone has their own schedule, she seems to say. Just because some kid is "behind," don't assume that kid is a moron. Even those who might very well have some sort of learning disability also have a special talent. This is a great message that kids need to hear: God has a plan in mind for you, and you're not going to be left behind.
My Rating: Borderline AGC/OK (frightening ideas (e.g. the brain), slight parent/child conflict)
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Pertaining To Mockingjay
(Written by Suzanne Collins. Book Three in the Hunger Games Trilogy.) *Book II spoilers throughout* Katniss Everdeen has a decision to make. She survived the Hunger Games for a second time, with the help of Peeta and other victors. Now she has been rescued by the people of District 13, who have lived underground since the end of the war. President Coin of 13 wants her to become the Mockingjay: The symbolic leader of the revolution. But Katniss only cares about Peeta. Sweet, strong Peeta whose life she had been determined to save during the second Hunger Games, but who was captured by the Capitol. Then he appears in an interview on television and calls for a cease-fire - a sure sign of betrayal to many rebels. Katniss believes the only way she can save him is to agree to be the Mockingjay on condition that he be pardoned after the war. She has no idea what she's about to get into.
Where to start? This is a very, very disappointing Act III to what began as a very good story. The connections between the Capitol and Ancient Rome (something only vaguely hinted at in the first two books) are strengthened. It is well-written, and there's enough action to keep the book exciting. Those are about the only things I liked.
First, Katniss's character devolved into an even worse one than when she started in Book I. This, after growing into a better person in Book II. Throughout Mockingjay, she seems to have become more compassionate and more loving than she had been previously. But three decisions she makes toward the end of the book are, quite simply, cold-blooded and inexcusable.
Second, I did not like the portrayal of District 13. More specifically, I didn't like the portrayal of those fighting for District 13. Gale, President Coin, and Plutarch are the ones in charge, and none of them are ultimately shown to be very good people. President Coin, in particular, is depicted as monstrous (though this is never confirmed explicitly). This is outright slop, and I'll bet it was directed at the Bush administration. With the ending, the implication of the entire series is that no war is justly fought. The rebels had good reason to fight; it was definitely a just war. But the way in which they went about fighting was wrong, at least at the end. Translation: The message is that both sides in war are evil. This is especially offensive given that the story hints at the Revolutionary War - thirteen districts run by an out-of-touch, seemingly impregnable capitol that views the districts as suppliers. Then the new president commits an atrocity like the one Coin ppresumably orders? George Washington would have been horrified. What really ticks me off, however, is that there is absolutely no reason why it should be that way. Story-wise, there is no real reason why things had to end as they did. No reason except one of anti-war, anti-American sentiment.
Then there is Peeta's character. *Spoiler Warning* He has been "hijacked" by the Capitol (I'm sure there's another message in that term, but I can't figure out what it is). Throughout much of the book, he thinks Katniss is evil and tries to kill her periodically. I find this extremely offensive as well. Peeta was the one that no one could touch; the one whose unwavering strength and devotion were lights amidst the darkness. Then, all of a sudden, the Capitol plants these false, evil memories in his mind and he becomes crazy enough to try to murder Katniss in cold blood? Even if his memories could be altered so that he remembers her as an evil being, Peeta wouldn't try to kill her with his bare hands. It's totally out of character. Then he randomly recovers near the end, with very little explanation or description of his journey. Having said that, he loves Katniss as much at the end as he ever did. He remains a bright spot - that wavers somewhat - in the midst of a dark story. *End of Spoiler*
So, basically, this book ends with an anti-war, vaguely anti-American (aren't those terms synonymous by now?) message, and the main character is less likeable than she was at the beginning of the series. However, Peeta remains a strong character (with a blip - but that's so unbelievable I hardly count it), and it was well written from a pure dialogue and description standpoint.
My Rating: T (brutal violence, psychological warfare, sexual references)
Reviews of Similar Books:
Where to start? This is a very, very disappointing Act III to what began as a very good story. The connections between the Capitol and Ancient Rome (something only vaguely hinted at in the first two books) are strengthened. It is well-written, and there's enough action to keep the book exciting. Those are about the only things I liked.
First, Katniss's character devolved into an even worse one than when she started in Book I. This, after growing into a better person in Book II. Throughout Mockingjay, she seems to have become more compassionate and more loving than she had been previously. But three decisions she makes toward the end of the book are, quite simply, cold-blooded and inexcusable.
Second, I did not like the portrayal of District 13. More specifically, I didn't like the portrayal of those fighting for District 13. Gale, President Coin, and Plutarch are the ones in charge, and none of them are ultimately shown to be very good people. President Coin, in particular, is depicted as monstrous (though this is never confirmed explicitly). This is outright slop, and I'll bet it was directed at the Bush administration. With the ending, the implication of the entire series is that no war is justly fought. The rebels had good reason to fight; it was definitely a just war. But the way in which they went about fighting was wrong, at least at the end. Translation: The message is that both sides in war are evil. This is especially offensive given that the story hints at the Revolutionary War - thirteen districts run by an out-of-touch, seemingly impregnable capitol that views the districts as suppliers. Then the new president commits an atrocity like the one Coin ppresumably orders? George Washington would have been horrified. What really ticks me off, however, is that there is absolutely no reason why it should be that way. Story-wise, there is no real reason why things had to end as they did. No reason except one of anti-war, anti-American sentiment.
Then there is Peeta's character. *Spoiler Warning* He has been "hijacked" by the Capitol (I'm sure there's another message in that term, but I can't figure out what it is). Throughout much of the book, he thinks Katniss is evil and tries to kill her periodically. I find this extremely offensive as well. Peeta was the one that no one could touch; the one whose unwavering strength and devotion were lights amidst the darkness. Then, all of a sudden, the Capitol plants these false, evil memories in his mind and he becomes crazy enough to try to murder Katniss in cold blood? Even if his memories could be altered so that he remembers her as an evil being, Peeta wouldn't try to kill her with his bare hands. It's totally out of character. Then he randomly recovers near the end, with very little explanation or description of his journey. Having said that, he loves Katniss as much at the end as he ever did. He remains a bright spot - that wavers somewhat - in the midst of a dark story. *End of Spoiler*
So, basically, this book ends with an anti-war, vaguely anti-American (aren't those terms synonymous by now?) message, and the main character is less likeable than she was at the beginning of the series. However, Peeta remains a strong character (with a blip - but that's so unbelievable I hardly count it), and it was well written from a pure dialogue and description standpoint.
My Rating: T (brutal violence, psychological warfare, sexual references)
Reviews of Similar Books:
- The Hunger Games (book I) and Catching Fire (book II)
- Airman
- Incarceron
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
In Relation To Catching Fire
(Written by Suzanne Collins. Book Two in the Hunger Games trilogy.) Having survived the Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen is now adored by people all over Panem - particularly the citizens in the Capitol. There are only two problems: First, she can't seem to shake the Games from her life. They linger in her dreams and keep her apart from Gale, her old friend who might just be something more. Second, President Snow thinks Katniss is dangerous. If anyone in the districts thinks she was directly defying the Capitol with her final act in the Games, she might just be the cause of a rebellion. So Katniss is left in a position every bit as dangerous as the one she held in the Games - perhaps more so, because her life isn't the only thing on the line.
The first book in this trilogy developed the setting: The way North America will be X years from now. Guessing that the government will have taken over and that people will be grossly self-absorbed, The Hunger Games could be seen as a cautionary tale or a philosophical exercise. The second book delves more deeply into Katniss and, unfortunately, also focuses more on the romantic storyline.
In this book, Katniss develops a strong sense of responsibility and honor. The first book depicts her as pretty selfish and self-centered at times. She has had to fight for her survival and the survival of her family for so long that she has forgotten what it means to be honorable. In the second book, however, she discovers that a lot more than her family and her own life hinges on her choices. Because she has evidently been the cause of uprisings, widespread bloodshed and death might come on the heels of any decision that she makes. Additionally, she develops a high sense of honor and a strong protective instinct that she only hints at in the first book. She will not harm anyone who has helped her in some way, nor will she harm anyone who is too weak to protect him or herself.
Since the focus of Catching Fire is on Katniss and her development (as well as setting the stage for the third book... but I don't want to spoil anything), the book naturally takes a look at her romantic feelings. *Book 1 Spoiler Warning* Does she love Gale? Does she love Peeta? Does the reader need to know every little nuance of her complex relationship with him? While Peeta's sleeping in her bed to comfort her after nightmares is a little sweet, it's also highly dangerous - what is known as "a near occasion of sin." Katniss obviously has no interest in taking the relationship farther than their fake love on the screen and their real friendship off of it. However, it's still uncomfortable. Then there's Gale, who might be a red herring. He completes the love triangle, which is fairly solid from a character interaction standpoint - Katniss is definitely appealing, Peeta is the sort of loving, sweet man that most girls dream of, and Gale has been Katniss's best friend for years. But Gale is in the books very little (at least so far), which makes the love triangle existent mostly in Katniss's thoughts. In fact, it seems to pop up mostly when she tells herself that she won't think about it. This makes the romantic triangle an annoying sideshow that, at times, threatens to engulf the story. *End of Book 1 Spoiler*
The Hunger Games trilogy got off to a fantastic start with the first book. The second one, although it moves Katniss's character farther along its arc, tends to get lost a bit in the romantic triangle and in various other storylines. In short, it seems very much like an intermission between Act I and Act III. Having said that, Act III looks promising, if only because Katniss seems to be moving along from a girl with only the will to survive to someone concerned with honor and the protection of the weak.
My Rating: T (sexual content and references, violence)
Review of the third book, Mockingjay
Reviews of similar books:
The first book in this trilogy developed the setting: The way North America will be X years from now. Guessing that the government will have taken over and that people will be grossly self-absorbed, The Hunger Games could be seen as a cautionary tale or a philosophical exercise. The second book delves more deeply into Katniss and, unfortunately, also focuses more on the romantic storyline.
In this book, Katniss develops a strong sense of responsibility and honor. The first book depicts her as pretty selfish and self-centered at times. She has had to fight for her survival and the survival of her family for so long that she has forgotten what it means to be honorable. In the second book, however, she discovers that a lot more than her family and her own life hinges on her choices. Because she has evidently been the cause of uprisings, widespread bloodshed and death might come on the heels of any decision that she makes. Additionally, she develops a high sense of honor and a strong protective instinct that she only hints at in the first book. She will not harm anyone who has helped her in some way, nor will she harm anyone who is too weak to protect him or herself.
Since the focus of Catching Fire is on Katniss and her development (as well as setting the stage for the third book... but I don't want to spoil anything), the book naturally takes a look at her romantic feelings. *Book 1 Spoiler Warning* Does she love Gale? Does she love Peeta? Does the reader need to know every little nuance of her complex relationship with him? While Peeta's sleeping in her bed to comfort her after nightmares is a little sweet, it's also highly dangerous - what is known as "a near occasion of sin." Katniss obviously has no interest in taking the relationship farther than their fake love on the screen and their real friendship off of it. However, it's still uncomfortable. Then there's Gale, who might be a red herring. He completes the love triangle, which is fairly solid from a character interaction standpoint - Katniss is definitely appealing, Peeta is the sort of loving, sweet man that most girls dream of, and Gale has been Katniss's best friend for years. But Gale is in the books very little (at least so far), which makes the love triangle existent mostly in Katniss's thoughts. In fact, it seems to pop up mostly when she tells herself that she won't think about it. This makes the romantic triangle an annoying sideshow that, at times, threatens to engulf the story. *End of Book 1 Spoiler*
The Hunger Games trilogy got off to a fantastic start with the first book. The second one, although it moves Katniss's character farther along its arc, tends to get lost a bit in the romantic triangle and in various other storylines. In short, it seems very much like an intermission between Act I and Act III. Having said that, Act III looks promising, if only because Katniss seems to be moving along from a girl with only the will to survive to someone concerned with honor and the protection of the weak.
My Rating: T (sexual content and references, violence)
Review of the third book, Mockingjay
Reviews of similar books:
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
On The Hunger Games
(Written by Suzanne Collins.) Katniss Everdeen is a survivor. She has cared for her mother and her little sister ever since her father died. Back when she was a little girl. Before near starvation and the need to hunt animals robbed her of her childhood. Now she has to survive the annual Reaping Day - the day where one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen will be picked to fight in the Hunger Games. The "Games" where two people from each district of Panem, twenty-four "tributes" in all, will fight to the death. But Katniss's name is not pulled out of the glass bowl. Her younger sister Prim's is. So Katniss reacts like any protective, loving sister should - she jumps forward and volunteers to take Prim's place.
A reviewer quoted on the back of The Hunger Games declares that philosophy can be found within the pages of the book. Though all books contain some sort of philosophy merely because they have words put together in a (somewhat) meaningful manner, this book has a little more deliberately philosophical look at the modern world. Set in North America sometime in the future, it is a commentary on the way our culture seems to be heading - downhill. The good characters, while they don't stick to stereotypes, stick closely to an ideal that our culture, helped by feminists on the warpath, is speeding away from at an alarming rate. But this presentation of goodness is tempered with two searing attacks on evil.
The relationship between Katniss and Peeta is odd, but that is more a compliment than a criticism. With a strong heroine and a strange tendency to end male characters' names with an "a," The Hunger Games hinted that perhaps Katniss would end up saving Peeta, the main male character (I can't call him a hero yet because I haven't read the other two books in the series and he has a rival). Now, there is nothing wrong with the girl saving the guy, as long as it does not constitute an inversion of gender roles. That is, the heroine can save the hero through feminine means (wiles, love, etc.), but she should not save his life in battle through her physical prowess. But there is no inversion of gender roles in this book - just a switch in story roles. Katniss is definitely the heroine and the main character, with Peeta taking an unassuming spot in her shadow. But he is strong in his own right, and spends much of the book looking out for her. In fact, their relationship is refreshingly reciprocal, with each saving the other at different times and through different means.
Now to the depiction of evil. There are two noteworthy lessons in The Hunger Games; a lesson on an unhealthy obsession with beauty and youth, and a lesson on a large, overbearing government. First, the people in the Capitol - the ones who live high on the hog while the rest of Panem starves - are addicted to beauty and youth. People have countless surgeries to keep themselves looking young. They reject fatness as ugly, and have a strange, bright sense of fashion. (Picture Lady Gaga and you have a pretty good idea of what people in the Capitol think is beautiful.) There is almost nothing they can't do when it comes to personal appearance, and they choose to use the technology at their disposal to make themselves fit the ideal of beauty. But those who participate wholeheartedly in this idea are self-absorbed and, frankly, stupid. Caught in the cages of their self-absorption, the ones most obsessed with their appearances are those who are most clueless about what it means to be a good person. Thus, they are portrayed as shallow.
Second, the government, which is a threat to the people of Panem because of its power, is portrayed as evil. So many books and movies nowadays seek to pit the rich against the poor. Some of these stories even offer some form of government as a remedy to the inequalities of wealth. While the government can and should regulate society and the economy to some extent, it can become over powerful and oppressive. It is not the answer to all societal ills or even, I daresay, most of them. The Hunger Games embraces this idea and indicts both the rich, who live clueless, self-absorbed lives in the Capitol, and the government, which oppresses those in the twelve districts. Both the controlling government and the rich are portrayed as bad, but only the government is shown as a real threat. Now, I haven't read the other two books in the trilogy yet, so I can't guarantee that the end won't produce some rich businessman or other pulling the government's strings. But so far, at least, the government is portrayed more as a threat than a savior.
This isn't to say that the good characters are always good. Katniss makes a few questionable moral decisions, and some of the other good characters have definite flaws. But flaws allow for moral development in the characters - and sometimes the portrayals with the most contrast between good and evil rest in a character's realization that something he or she did was wrong.
In the end, the people are what matter to good characters in The Hunger Games. Katniss goes to what she believes is certain death in order to save her younger sister. Peeta nearly loses his life protecting Katniss. Even the odd Cinna, who designs Katniss's costumes for the opening ceremonies, is portrayed as good because of his obvious compassion for her. On the other hand, evil is sometimes portrayed as brutally violent, sometimes as subtly oppressive, but always as manipulative, cold, and self-absorbed. The Hunger Games asks and answers the question of what will happen if our culture continues to careen in the direction it is currently heading. The conclusion is not pretty, but it is sound.
My Rating: T (violence, sexual references, murky moral decisions)
Review of the second book, Catching Fire
Reviews of similar books:
In the end, the people are what matter to good characters in The Hunger Games. Katniss goes to what she believes is certain death in order to save her younger sister. Peeta nearly loses his life protecting Katniss. Even the odd Cinna, who designs Katniss's costumes for the opening ceremonies, is portrayed as good because of his obvious compassion for her. On the other hand, evil is sometimes portrayed as brutally violent, sometimes as subtly oppressive, but always as manipulative, cold, and self-absorbed. The Hunger Games asks and answers the question of what will happen if our culture continues to careen in the direction it is currently heading. The conclusion is not pretty, but it is sound.
My Rating: T (violence, sexual references, murky moral decisions)
Review of the second book, Catching Fire
Reviews of similar books:
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
In Relation To The Phantom of the Opera
(Written by Gaston Leroux.) Once upon a time, there was an opera house in Paris. A beautiful young woman namd Christine Daae lived and worked there ever since her father, a famous and talented Swedish violinist, died. When the opera passed to new owners and a new patron, Christine's breathtakingly beautiful voice was discovered and Paris sang her praises. Among her newfound followers was an old friend Viscount Raoul de Changy. His old feelings for her came back in a rush, and he was determined to marry her. But someone she called the Angel of Music was very displeased with Raoul's attentions. The Angel - or Demon - wanted Christine all to himself, and he was willing to do anything to secure her.
Since I read a version translated from the original French (and abridged - though nothing important was cut out; just flowery descriptions and pointless lines), I cannot comment on whether this book is particularly well written or not. But I can say that it's a good tale, if a bit unbelievable, and at least some of the characters are likeable.
First, the tale. The whole story pivots on the Phantom and his genius. He's a fabulous musician and a very clever inventor. At the same time, his inventions are a bit unbelievable. (For example, the Torture Room, though a clever concept, would never work. The tree, reflected in the mirror walls, would make someone think he was in a jungle. But the man's reflection would also be seen on every mirror. That, I would think, would keep him from losing his mind.) But then, the whole book has a flavor of surrealism, brought on by a very romantic flair and the permeating madness of the Phantom. Because of this, the unrealistic inventions and elements in the story add to the story instead of detracting from it.
Strangely enough, the term "romantic" certainly fits for the tale as a whole and the love between Christine and Raoul, but not for the central love story of the book. *Spoiler Warning* The Phantom's aching search for even a small expression of love is the ultimate point of the story. When he receives just a small gift of love, he is satisfied. Christine, in giving him her kiss and her tears, shows him that someone in the world cares for him. He finds that is all he ever wanted, and he lets her and Raoul go. This is contrary to the typical romantic idea of love, in which passion must be continually satisfied. *End of Spoiler*
In addition to the decent story, some of the characters are likeable. Christine and the Persian are both good characters. Both are honorable, both seek to help others more than themselves. Raoul's brother and Meg are also good characters, though they are in the book very little.
But Raoul is sadly a very pathetic character. Nearly always on the verge of tears, headstrong, and weak-minded, he is a very disappointing hero. Christine is the one who saves the day, and Raoul does nothing to help. In fact, he makes matters worse. Without Christine and the Persian, he would have died an ignominious death.
So, all in all, it's a fairly decent book. But Raoul's schoolboy (dare I say schoolgirl?) character pales in comparison to the genius and virility of the Phantom, who is the center of the tale. In fact, the Phantom's cold-blooded madness is the only thing that makes him less likeable than Raoul. Because of this, the book could never be better than just good.
My Rating: OK (horror elements, very vague sexual references)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Since I read a version translated from the original French (and abridged - though nothing important was cut out; just flowery descriptions and pointless lines), I cannot comment on whether this book is particularly well written or not. But I can say that it's a good tale, if a bit unbelievable, and at least some of the characters are likeable.
First, the tale. The whole story pivots on the Phantom and his genius. He's a fabulous musician and a very clever inventor. At the same time, his inventions are a bit unbelievable. (For example, the Torture Room, though a clever concept, would never work. The tree, reflected in the mirror walls, would make someone think he was in a jungle. But the man's reflection would also be seen on every mirror. That, I would think, would keep him from losing his mind.) But then, the whole book has a flavor of surrealism, brought on by a very romantic flair and the permeating madness of the Phantom. Because of this, the unrealistic inventions and elements in the story add to the story instead of detracting from it.
Strangely enough, the term "romantic" certainly fits for the tale as a whole and the love between Christine and Raoul, but not for the central love story of the book. *Spoiler Warning* The Phantom's aching search for even a small expression of love is the ultimate point of the story. When he receives just a small gift of love, he is satisfied. Christine, in giving him her kiss and her tears, shows him that someone in the world cares for him. He finds that is all he ever wanted, and he lets her and Raoul go. This is contrary to the typical romantic idea of love, in which passion must be continually satisfied. *End of Spoiler*
In addition to the decent story, some of the characters are likeable. Christine and the Persian are both good characters. Both are honorable, both seek to help others more than themselves. Raoul's brother and Meg are also good characters, though they are in the book very little.
But Raoul is sadly a very pathetic character. Nearly always on the verge of tears, headstrong, and weak-minded, he is a very disappointing hero. Christine is the one who saves the day, and Raoul does nothing to help. In fact, he makes matters worse. Without Christine and the Persian, he would have died an ignominious death.
So, all in all, it's a fairly decent book. But Raoul's schoolboy (dare I say schoolgirl?) character pales in comparison to the genius and virility of the Phantom, who is the center of the tale. In fact, the Phantom's cold-blooded madness is the only thing that makes him less likeable than Raoul. Because of this, the book could never be better than just good.
My Rating: OK (horror elements, very vague sexual references)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Concerning The Ebony Swan
(Written by Phyllis Whitney.) Alex is worried. Her granddaughter Susan is coming for a visit, and she's not entirely sure that's a good thing. After all, the girl's father wasn't exactly fond of his mother-in-law, particularly after Susan's mother died in a terrible accident. Grandmother and granddaughter might not get along. At the same time, Alex can't help but think that Susan might just be able to shed some light on the terrible tragedy of so many years ago. Too young at the time to understand, Susan had nevertheless been a witness to her mother's accident. But Alex isn't at all sure that she wants more light on her daughter's death; light has a tricky way of exposing things that some people prefer to leave in the dark.
It is typically easy to guess the murderers in Whitney's books. Luckily, that isn't the case in The Ebony Swan. I thought I had the murderer picked out just a few pages into the book, but I was wrong. After that, every hypothesis I invented was proved wrong. In fact, the revelation near the end was rather surprising. That's the most important thing in any mystery book, and one of only two things that kept this one afloat.
The other was the likeability of the heroine and hero. Susan is a very nice woman, and Peter seems a good man. I'm not real fond of the idea that he and his wife were separated, but at least she's dead. (Cold-blooded, I know, but there it is...)
Unfortunately, there are bad sides to The Ebony Swan as well. First, the lack of certain details was, frankly, annoying. For example, Alex thinks her husband's last words are puzzling. Whitney won't say what they were until near the end of the book - but the words were not important. If they had contained some revelation that perhaps the reader could have used to find the murderer, I would understand the omission. But they were very obvious. And there are few things more annoying in books than having suspense built up around a certain element only to be disappointed in its capacity to surprise.
Then there was the annoyance of the affair. In a curious sort of way, it's condoned and condemned at the same time. Alex, who was years younger than her husband, had a short affair with another man who tried to convince her to leave her husband. She stayed, and the lover ended up marrying somebody else. Showing that she does have some idea that adultery is wrong, Alex is very relieved that her husband knew nothing of her affair. But she is also only half regretful of what she did. She doesn't acknowledge that it was really wrong, and she even seems to regret not leaving her husband once or twice throughout the book. Most disconcerting.
Ultimately, The Ebony Swan is a fairly decent, fairly clean mystery novel with a likeable heroine. Some pointless sleight of pen and murky morals could have held up to a good scrubbing, but it's still fairly enjoyable.
My Rating: T (thematic elements)
It is typically easy to guess the murderers in Whitney's books. Luckily, that isn't the case in The Ebony Swan. I thought I had the murderer picked out just a few pages into the book, but I was wrong. After that, every hypothesis I invented was proved wrong. In fact, the revelation near the end was rather surprising. That's the most important thing in any mystery book, and one of only two things that kept this one afloat.
The other was the likeability of the heroine and hero. Susan is a very nice woman, and Peter seems a good man. I'm not real fond of the idea that he and his wife were separated, but at least she's dead. (Cold-blooded, I know, but there it is...)
Unfortunately, there are bad sides to The Ebony Swan as well. First, the lack of certain details was, frankly, annoying. For example, Alex thinks her husband's last words are puzzling. Whitney won't say what they were until near the end of the book - but the words were not important. If they had contained some revelation that perhaps the reader could have used to find the murderer, I would understand the omission. But they were very obvious. And there are few things more annoying in books than having suspense built up around a certain element only to be disappointed in its capacity to surprise.
Then there was the annoyance of the affair. In a curious sort of way, it's condoned and condemned at the same time. Alex, who was years younger than her husband, had a short affair with another man who tried to convince her to leave her husband. She stayed, and the lover ended up marrying somebody else. Showing that she does have some idea that adultery is wrong, Alex is very relieved that her husband knew nothing of her affair. But she is also only half regretful of what she did. She doesn't acknowledge that it was really wrong, and she even seems to regret not leaving her husband once or twice throughout the book. Most disconcerting.
Ultimately, The Ebony Swan is a fairly decent, fairly clean mystery novel with a likeable heroine. Some pointless sleight of pen and murky morals could have held up to a good scrubbing, but it's still fairly enjoyable.
My Rating: T (thematic elements)
Friday, September 30, 2011
The Single, Solitary Reason
Spellbound or The House of Dr. Edwardes, written by Francis Beeding, is almost completely worthless. In fact, the single, solitary reason why I even keep my copy is: The pictures on the inside cover. They're from the movie, and I loved the movie. Otherwise, the book is rubbish.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
On The Loser Letters: A Comic Tale of Life, Death, and Atheism
(Written by Mary Eberstadt.)
Dear Theists, Atheists, and the Rest of Mankind,
If you're looking for a book that's dripping with sarcasm, full of truth, and more sobering than a cold shower and a cup of coffee, this is the book for you. I don't have to tell you that the debate about God and religion is center-stage right now. I mean, just look at the debate over marriage; theists and atheists alike who happen to believe that marriage is between a man and a woman are selfish, hateful bigots, and the open-minded, tolerant theists and atheists who believe that anything goes as long as it makes you feel good are trying to shut down the opposition with rightly-deserved diatribes. But I digress. Have you ever thought about the logical arguments for atheism? I mean, they have to hold water, right? People as intelligent as Richard Dawkins have to have good reasons to believe that God doesn't exist. Don't they? Or is it something else that drives people to disbelieve in the existence of God?
Your Obedient Servant,
A.D. Catholic
Normally, I don't like it when people use sarcasm to tear down opposing arguments. As a general rule, if the only argument you have is one of mockery, then you have no argument, you just have a loud voice. But in the case of The Loser Letters, sarcasm and mockery are tempered by sympathy - and not "sympathy" of the patronizing kind. I know that seems like an oxymoron, but it isn't.
Using the voice of the "one and only convert" to atheism, a fictional character who signs her name with the pseudonym "A. F. (A Former) Christian," Mary Eberstadt manages to neatly expose the contradictions and downright foolishness of some major arguments in favor of atheism. In the book, A. F. Christian is trying to help her fellow atheists by explaining why the arguments don't hold water and by pointing out that they should quit using those arguments (the ones that don't quite make sense) because they only turn off potential converts.
This book is right on so many levels, I don't know where to begin. To save myself (and you) from an agonizingly long post, I'll just say that every one of the fallacies and contradictions that A. F. Christian so ably points out are true. Atheism and watered down religion that permit anyone to do whatever they want without any consequences are destroying our culture and, more importantly, destroying our young people. A. F. Christian is a case in point - but you'll have to read the book to find out more.
The sympathy comes later in the book when the reader finally discovers A. F.'s story. It's heartbreakingly sad; she could very easily be the poster girl for godlessness run amok. The sympathy that comes from A. F.'s sad story makes readers see atheists not as objects of mockery and sarcasm, but as misguided people. They simply live in a world where up is down and down is up, and we should give them our prayers, not our mockery.
*Spoiler Warning* The final part of the book seems to have its basis in Dante. Alas and alack, I have not read Dante, so I'm probably not the best person to analyze this part of the book. I'll keep it as basic as I can. In the last letter, we find that the rehab clinic where A. F. Christian has been living is really Purgatory. During the time that she has been there (and the time that she has written her letters), Jesus has given the angels a chance to figure out the state of A. F.'s soul. It's made quite clear that He doesn't really trust their judgment; He just lets them have a crack at it before He sends her off to the her final destination. My problem with this element is that the Catholic Church teaches that "Each man receives his eternal retribution in his immortal soul at the very moment of his death" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, section 1022). Meaning that if someone is headed to Hell he or she goes to Hell at the moment he or she dies. No short stop in Purgatory. Straight to Hell. The only explanation for this theological hiccup I can think of is that Jesus, knowing as He does the state of everybody's soul, knew she was headed to Heaven eventually anyway. In other words, he allows the angels to try to figure out the state of each soul in Purgatory, but all the souls they try to evaluate are headed to Heaven anyway. Which, in my mind at least, kind of defeats the whole purpose of the exercise. (Although I have to admit that the imagining of Purgatory as a rehab or "detox" place is a brilliant move.) *End of Spoiler*
In the end, The Loser Letters is about the pain and destruction that comes from cutting God and meaning out of life. Sure, the basic atheist arguments are destroyed like waves destroy sandcastles, but the fundamental point is not so much the foolishness of atheism. The fundamental point is that atheism has resulted in evils and suffering that have sickened our culture. Faced with such a world, theists can only pray and try to help the "collateral damage" pick up the pieces of their broken lives, trusting that God will heal all our wounds.
My Rating: MT (sexual and drug references, language, pervasive evil in people's lives)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Dear Theists, Atheists, and the Rest of Mankind,
If you're looking for a book that's dripping with sarcasm, full of truth, and more sobering than a cold shower and a cup of coffee, this is the book for you. I don't have to tell you that the debate about God and religion is center-stage right now. I mean, just look at the debate over marriage; theists and atheists alike who happen to believe that marriage is between a man and a woman are selfish, hateful bigots, and the open-minded, tolerant theists and atheists who believe that anything goes as long as it makes you feel good are trying to shut down the opposition with rightly-deserved diatribes. But I digress. Have you ever thought about the logical arguments for atheism? I mean, they have to hold water, right? People as intelligent as Richard Dawkins have to have good reasons to believe that God doesn't exist. Don't they? Or is it something else that drives people to disbelieve in the existence of God?
Your Obedient Servant,
A.D. Catholic
Normally, I don't like it when people use sarcasm to tear down opposing arguments. As a general rule, if the only argument you have is one of mockery, then you have no argument, you just have a loud voice. But in the case of The Loser Letters, sarcasm and mockery are tempered by sympathy - and not "sympathy" of the patronizing kind. I know that seems like an oxymoron, but it isn't.
Using the voice of the "one and only convert" to atheism, a fictional character who signs her name with the pseudonym "A. F. (A Former) Christian," Mary Eberstadt manages to neatly expose the contradictions and downright foolishness of some major arguments in favor of atheism. In the book, A. F. Christian is trying to help her fellow atheists by explaining why the arguments don't hold water and by pointing out that they should quit using those arguments (the ones that don't quite make sense) because they only turn off potential converts.
This book is right on so many levels, I don't know where to begin. To save myself (and you) from an agonizingly long post, I'll just say that every one of the fallacies and contradictions that A. F. Christian so ably points out are true. Atheism and watered down religion that permit anyone to do whatever they want without any consequences are destroying our culture and, more importantly, destroying our young people. A. F. Christian is a case in point - but you'll have to read the book to find out more.
The sympathy comes later in the book when the reader finally discovers A. F.'s story. It's heartbreakingly sad; she could very easily be the poster girl for godlessness run amok. The sympathy that comes from A. F.'s sad story makes readers see atheists not as objects of mockery and sarcasm, but as misguided people. They simply live in a world where up is down and down is up, and we should give them our prayers, not our mockery.
*Spoiler Warning* The final part of the book seems to have its basis in Dante. Alas and alack, I have not read Dante, so I'm probably not the best person to analyze this part of the book. I'll keep it as basic as I can. In the last letter, we find that the rehab clinic where A. F. Christian has been living is really Purgatory. During the time that she has been there (and the time that she has written her letters), Jesus has given the angels a chance to figure out the state of A. F.'s soul. It's made quite clear that He doesn't really trust their judgment; He just lets them have a crack at it before He sends her off to the her final destination. My problem with this element is that the Catholic Church teaches that "Each man receives his eternal retribution in his immortal soul at the very moment of his death" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, section 1022). Meaning that if someone is headed to Hell he or she goes to Hell at the moment he or she dies. No short stop in Purgatory. Straight to Hell. The only explanation for this theological hiccup I can think of is that Jesus, knowing as He does the state of everybody's soul, knew she was headed to Heaven eventually anyway. In other words, he allows the angels to try to figure out the state of each soul in Purgatory, but all the souls they try to evaluate are headed to Heaven anyway. Which, in my mind at least, kind of defeats the whole purpose of the exercise. (Although I have to admit that the imagining of Purgatory as a rehab or "detox" place is a brilliant move.) *End of Spoiler*
In the end, The Loser Letters is about the pain and destruction that comes from cutting God and meaning out of life. Sure, the basic atheist arguments are destroyed like waves destroy sandcastles, but the fundamental point is not so much the foolishness of atheism. The fundamental point is that atheism has resulted in evils and suffering that have sickened our culture. Faced with such a world, theists can only pray and try to help the "collateral damage" pick up the pieces of their broken lives, trusting that God will heal all our wounds.
My Rating: MT (sexual and drug references, language, pervasive evil in people's lives)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Concerning Sapphique
(Written by Catherine Fisher. Sequel to Incarceron.) Finn is Outside, just like he wanted. But, unsurprisingly, he’s having second thoughts about his decision. He finds the world and its silly Protocol to be stifling. Perhaps it isn’t as physically constrictive as Incarceron, the prison where he was entrapped before, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Besides, his oathbrother Keiro is still stuck in the prison – and the Warden of Incarceron absconded with the only way out of Incarceron and sabotaged the only way into the prison at the same time. Finn’s hopes of rescuing Keiro and the former dog-slave Attia are pretty slim. Or is there more to the prison than meets the eye?
Like I said in my review of the first book, this is a really cool idea. There were more cool things in this book, including a crystal-like tower and an airship. And the original idea of Sapphique’s way Out was taken in a new, fairly clever direction. Unfortunately, that’s about all the good I can say about this book. Much to my chagrin, Ms. Fisher took the story from the first book and led it exactly where I didn’t want it to go.
First, Finn alarmingly began to prefer Claudia over Attia. Claudia? The spoiled brat who occasionally yells at Finn for only thinking of himself? I find that particular characteristic of hers both annoying and ironic since Claudia is the one who only thinks of herself (and, occasionally, her tutor Jared). Finn is genuinely concerned about Keiro, although Claudia thinks that’s stupid. Apparently, she thinks Keiro is only concerned about himself as well. Funny how people are most annoyed by the character traits that they possess.
Then there was the really, really cool twist that was hinted at several times. Based on what people were saying, I began to believe that maybe Incarceron could be the Outside, and the Realm might be the experimental prison. It might not be a completely logical idea, but it really seemed like that was where the book was headed. I’m not a real big fan of stories that claim the world is fake, but it would at least have been an interesting twist. Unfortunately, Ms. Fisher didn’t think so.
Finally, I have a strong dislike for the vague and, frankly, weak ending. One of three things happened with that. Either Ms. Fisher didn’t think the whole story through, she neglected to explain it all, or I missed something big. *Spoiler Warning* How did Sapphique, the Emergency Exit glove, become both an exit from and an entrance to Incarceron? And how did Jared become a prison/person hybrid when he put Sapphique’s glove on? Where did his body go? None of these questions are answered.
Sapphique is a very, very disappointing sequel to an intriguing book. There are unanswered questions, a frustrating love story, and a neglect of interesting twists that would keep the story alive and fresh. Need I say more?
My Rating: T (strange sci-fi ideas about the relationship between the body and the soul, mild sexual references)
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Pertaining To Incarceron
(Written by Catherine Fisher.) Finn was born Outside. He knows it. He has memories that come back to him during seizures. People don't believe him. Even Gildas the Sapient thinks Finn is the creation of Incarceron. To Gildas, and to most of the Comitatus, Finn was created by the prison out of recycled bits of matter - a cellborn. But Finn knows better. He knows there is somewhere outside the prison, that he came from that somewhere, and that one day he will remember.
This is a really creepy and really cool idea. In fact, it reminds me a bit of the Matrix. Incarceron is a living, self-sustaining, and speaking prison that keeps its inhabitants trapped inside. Of course, one of the notable differences between the Matrix and Incarceron is that, in the Matrix, one fights the Agents, but in Incarceron, one fights the prison itself. That makes it a bit tough to make any headway. Also, in the Matrix, the prison holds minds, but Incarceron is a physical prison as well as a mental prison of sorts.
However good the idea, an idea can't keep a book afloat all by its lonesome. I've read books that were good ideas, but failed because the main characters were unlikable. That especially seems to happen when the main character is a girl. No offense, but I think most girls in books are idiots. Unfortunately, one of the main characters in Incarceron is an annoying young lady named Claudia - with more emphasis on the "young" than the "lady." She's betrothed to the Heir, a particularly spoiled and weak-minded fellow. But she's willing to do anything to avoid marrying him, etc., etc., etc. Oh, and she can't stand having to wear the starched skirts and other things that Protocol requires of her. A new character trait, that is not. But at least she has an excuse; Protocol (which is basically a rule that says everyone has to live like it's about 1750 or so) has been imposed on them by the rulers, who are somewhat implausibly convinced that they can avoid another bloody uprising like the one that happened decades ago by forcing people to live in the past. Hm. Not the most realistic backstory, but it serves its purpose. Putting all that aside, Claudia is still annoying.
Luckily, Finn is not annoying in the least. He's a good-hearted young man who tries his best. He makes the wrong choice once or twice (notably in the beginning), but these wrong choices only drive him to be better. His friend Attia is a great character as well, and his oathbrother Keiro... well, he's a whole 'nother story.
Incarceron also had just enough twists to show that the authoress knew something more than an interesting concept was needed to keep the story afloat. I guessed most of the developments before the characters knew, but there were one or two good surprises. And really, one can't expect too much from a young adult science fiction book.
All in all, it certainly kept my attention, right up until the end. When I read the last page, I wanted it to go on; what kind of an ending did Ms. Fisher think she was writing? That's not an ending, that's a teaser for Book 2, which, incidentally, I'm getting from my local library today. I can't bear to go much longer without finding out what happens next.
My Rating: T (disturbing concepts about a prison (including that the prison "makes" people), people referred to as "halfmen" or "dog-slaves" as if they were less than human, violence, family problems, mild sexual references)
This is a really creepy and really cool idea. In fact, it reminds me a bit of the Matrix. Incarceron is a living, self-sustaining, and speaking prison that keeps its inhabitants trapped inside. Of course, one of the notable differences between the Matrix and Incarceron is that, in the Matrix, one fights the Agents, but in Incarceron, one fights the prison itself. That makes it a bit tough to make any headway. Also, in the Matrix, the prison holds minds, but Incarceron is a physical prison as well as a mental prison of sorts.
However good the idea, an idea can't keep a book afloat all by its lonesome. I've read books that were good ideas, but failed because the main characters were unlikable. That especially seems to happen when the main character is a girl. No offense, but I think most girls in books are idiots. Unfortunately, one of the main characters in Incarceron is an annoying young lady named Claudia - with more emphasis on the "young" than the "lady." She's betrothed to the Heir, a particularly spoiled and weak-minded fellow. But she's willing to do anything to avoid marrying him, etc., etc., etc. Oh, and she can't stand having to wear the starched skirts and other things that Protocol requires of her. A new character trait, that is not. But at least she has an excuse; Protocol (which is basically a rule that says everyone has to live like it's about 1750 or so) has been imposed on them by the rulers, who are somewhat implausibly convinced that they can avoid another bloody uprising like the one that happened decades ago by forcing people to live in the past. Hm. Not the most realistic backstory, but it serves its purpose. Putting all that aside, Claudia is still annoying.
Luckily, Finn is not annoying in the least. He's a good-hearted young man who tries his best. He makes the wrong choice once or twice (notably in the beginning), but these wrong choices only drive him to be better. His friend Attia is a great character as well, and his oathbrother Keiro... well, he's a whole 'nother story.
Incarceron also had just enough twists to show that the authoress knew something more than an interesting concept was needed to keep the story afloat. I guessed most of the developments before the characters knew, but there were one or two good surprises. And really, one can't expect too much from a young adult science fiction book.
All in all, it certainly kept my attention, right up until the end. When I read the last page, I wanted it to go on; what kind of an ending did Ms. Fisher think she was writing? That's not an ending, that's a teaser for Book 2, which, incidentally, I'm getting from my local library today. I can't bear to go much longer without finding out what happens next.
My Rating: T (disturbing concepts about a prison (including that the prison "makes" people), people referred to as "halfmen" or "dog-slaves" as if they were less than human, violence, family problems, mild sexual references)
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
On The Homelander Series
(Books: The Last Thing I Remember, The Long Way Home, The Truth of the Matter, and The Final Hour. Written by Andrew Klavan.) Charlie West is an ordinary high school kid. He has an older sister he tolerates, parents he loves but takes a little for granted, and he's in love with a beautiful girl named Beth. Oh, he also has a black belt in karate and a strong desire to enter the Air Force. Yep, Charlie is somewhere between skinny little Steve Rogers and hulking strongman Captain America. A good kid who loves his country and tries to do the right thing. But if all that's true, how did he get strapped to a chair and tortured by terrorists? Why are the police after him? And why can't he remember the last year of his life?
Finally, a series written for young adults that's actually appropriate for young adults! Better yet, it's a modern action/spy thriller. Best of all, the author is a conservative who has his head on straight about the goings-on in the world today. If someone else wrote this series, the terrorists would be funded by some greedy jerk in the CIA, oil industry, or _____ (fill in the blank with some other government organization or large corporation). Klavan takes a different, more realistic approach, and doesn't blame capitalism for all the ills that plague our country.
Is this the most realistic series I've ever read? Aside from the proper portrayal of terrorism, etc., probably not. I'm not sure if all the things in the books are possible, but they require only a slight suspension of belief. Charlie seems to be extraordinarily resiliant, but I've never been on the run before. Maybe some special grace or strength kicks in when one's life is on the line. Or maybe this is just a fictional series that shouldn't be taken too seriously. Either way, the unrealistic elements don't really take away from the series.
Finally, I love Klavan's sense of humor and his writing style. If you want a taste, just watch this video: Barack the Magic Suit, A Political Fairy Tale. No, his books are not quite this blatantly conservative. Although you should pay close attention to the last name of the President of the United States at the end of The Final Hour. It sure made me laugh.
This review is long enough already, so I'll try to keep my other gushing down to a bare minimum. Charlie and all the "good guy" (or girl) characters are all awesome, particularly Mike. And Klavan did a very good job of letting the reader figure out what was going on just before Charlie found out. The line between telling too soon and blatantly misleading readers is a delicate tight rope. Klavan walked it perfectly.
In short, I highly recommend this to anyone looking for a good, clean, conservative read.
My Rating: OK (violence, mention of torture (none actually in the books), terrorism)
Finally, a series written for young adults that's actually appropriate for young adults! Better yet, it's a modern action/spy thriller. Best of all, the author is a conservative who has his head on straight about the goings-on in the world today. If someone else wrote this series, the terrorists would be funded by some greedy jerk in the CIA, oil industry, or _____ (fill in the blank with some other government organization or large corporation). Klavan takes a different, more realistic approach, and doesn't blame capitalism for all the ills that plague our country.
Is this the most realistic series I've ever read? Aside from the proper portrayal of terrorism, etc., probably not. I'm not sure if all the things in the books are possible, but they require only a slight suspension of belief. Charlie seems to be extraordinarily resiliant, but I've never been on the run before. Maybe some special grace or strength kicks in when one's life is on the line. Or maybe this is just a fictional series that shouldn't be taken too seriously. Either way, the unrealistic elements don't really take away from the series.
Finally, I love Klavan's sense of humor and his writing style. If you want a taste, just watch this video: Barack the Magic Suit, A Political Fairy Tale. No, his books are not quite this blatantly conservative. Although you should pay close attention to the last name of the President of the United States at the end of The Final Hour. It sure made me laugh.
This review is long enough already, so I'll try to keep my other gushing down to a bare minimum. Charlie and all the "good guy" (or girl) characters are all awesome, particularly Mike. And Klavan did a very good job of letting the reader figure out what was going on just before Charlie found out. The line between telling too soon and blatantly misleading readers is a delicate tight rope. Klavan walked it perfectly.
In short, I highly recommend this to anyone looking for a good, clean, conservative read.
My Rating: OK (violence, mention of torture (none actually in the books), terrorism)
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
In Relation To Howl's Moving Castle
(Written by Diana Wynne Jones.) Life isn't fair. Sophie certainly knows the truth in that statement. After all, she's eldest of three sisters in her family, and, as simply everyone knows, the eldest never succeeds in life. Sure enough, when her father dies, her sisters get placed into good jobs that put them in the way of happy lives, while Sophie is stuck making hats in the back of her family's hat shop. To top it all off, the Witch of the Waste shows up in the shop one day and turns Sophie into an old woman! Sophie simply can't stay in her old life looking like an old woman. She goes to seek her fortune, and happens to stumble across the moving castle that belongs to the wicked Wizard Howl. It is said that no young woman is safe with Howl, who either collects their souls or eats their hearts (it depends on who is telling the story). But then, that isn't a problem for Sophie - she isn't a young woman any longer.
I absolutely love this book! The characters, dialogue, narration, and imagination are just delightful. Best of all, the authoress has managed to write a hopeful book in which the heroine and especially the hero are flawed and almost nothing is as it seems. I could detail the many ways in which things are not as they seem, but that would take a long time and give away much of the book. Instead, I'll focus a bit on the book's personality.
Howl's Moving Castle naturally takes on the personality of Sophie. After all, she is the main character, and books often display the same characteristics as their main characters. With Sophie, what you see is what you get. She is an unpretentious determined young lady who puts her mind to whatever task she has at hand, whether she knows exactly where she's going or not. For example, when the Wicked Witch of the Waste turns her into an old woman, Sophie makes up her mind to leave and does so. However, she likes to resort to secrecy and even tricks now and again when honesty fails.
This trait, the trait of resorting to secrecy and tricks when honesty fails, is the predominant trait in Howl's Moving Castle. In other words, deceptive appearances abound. I won't detail all of them here, but there is more than one red herring dragged across the trail throughout the course of the book. Honesty is used by the authoress until it is no longer useful, and then the secrecy and tricks come into play. The real challenge for the reader is the ability to discern which are the honest parts and which are the tricks. The two are mixed together rather liberally, and are only really separated at the end.
My Rating: OK (violence, scary ideas)
I absolutely love this book! The characters, dialogue, narration, and imagination are just delightful. Best of all, the authoress has managed to write a hopeful book in which the heroine and especially the hero are flawed and almost nothing is as it seems. I could detail the many ways in which things are not as they seem, but that would take a long time and give away much of the book. Instead, I'll focus a bit on the book's personality.
Howl's Moving Castle naturally takes on the personality of Sophie. After all, she is the main character, and books often display the same characteristics as their main characters. With Sophie, what you see is what you get. She is an unpretentious determined young lady who puts her mind to whatever task she has at hand, whether she knows exactly where she's going or not. For example, when the Wicked Witch of the Waste turns her into an old woman, Sophie makes up her mind to leave and does so. However, she likes to resort to secrecy and even tricks now and again when honesty fails.
This trait, the trait of resorting to secrecy and tricks when honesty fails, is the predominant trait in Howl's Moving Castle. In other words, deceptive appearances abound. I won't detail all of them here, but there is more than one red herring dragged across the trail throughout the course of the book. Honesty is used by the authoress until it is no longer useful, and then the secrecy and tricks come into play. The real challenge for the reader is the ability to discern which are the honest parts and which are the tricks. The two are mixed together rather liberally, and are only really separated at the end.
My Rating: OK (violence, scary ideas)
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Regarding This Present Darkness
(Written by Frank E. Peretti.) Satan is closing in on the little town of Ashton. His demons are lurking about, tempting people into doing horrible things. Now his lieutenant, Rafar, the Prince of Babylon, has been sent to carry out his evil plan. An angel named Captain Tal and his likewise angelic companions are preparing to do battle. But their strength can only be increased by human prayers - and there is precious little praying going on in Ashton. Only Hank Busche, a local pastor, and his wife Mary seem to be praying. Can Hank and the angels change the minds of the people in town? And what about that nosy newspaperman, Marshall Hogan? Will he be able to put his finger on what the town's most influential people are doing behind closed doors?
Hm. This book had great potential, but overly dramatic writing and shaky theology derailed it before it really got started. I mean, what could be cooler than angels and demons engaged in a spiritual battle, while human underdogs try to fight off an evil organization that is trying to take over the world? But the book just sort of fell on its face.
First, the writing in the beginning of the book nearly made me quit several times. Peretti attempted to throw the reader into the angels' urgent situation without any background. This might have worked, except he eliminated dialogue that would have been in there, in my opinion, had he not intended to keep the reader in the dark about the forces of light. (Forgive the pun.) Plus, I disliked the drama in the angels' dialogue. One of my favorite Chesterton quotes reads as follows: "Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly." Instead, Peretti's angels seem to be fully aware of the drama of their situation.
Fortunately, the writing got better as the book went on. Unfortunately, the theology did not.
On the surface, this book is great. It's essentially a warning against New Age religions, which seem to be benign but are really very dangerous. In Peretti's book, people's lives are destroyed or lost because of New Age influences, and fortune telling and other dangerous practices are similarly condemned.
Below the surface, however, the theology is shaky. Hank repeatedly drives demons out of afflicted people in the town, while other lay persons "rebuke" demons. I'm not sure if a lay person could ever drive out a demon from a possessed person. What I do know is that Catholic canon law states that exorcists must be priests appointed specifically for that task by their bishops. That sounds to me as if it is impossible or nearly impossible for a lay person to drive out demons. Additionally, I have read that exorcisms are processes that can take years of repitition before they are successful. I estimate that the longest it takes Hank to drive out a demon is about ten minutes.
Also, it bothered me that the only Catholics in the book were considered "superstitious." The Catholic items around their house were considered evidence for their superstitious minds. Now, to be fair, the main character who was in that scene was not really religious and therefore wouldn't understand pictures of Mary, etc. However, there was no correction of this mistake later in the book; as far as the reader knows, it's superstitious to have crucifixes and images of Mary about the house. That is not true or fair. Catholics have such images because they lift our minds to God, both because they are reminders and because they are beautiful. Superstition does not fit into the equation.
Plagued by a melodramatic writing style and theological difficulties, This Present Darkness takes a little while just to get off the ground. In the middle, the pace speeds up enough to be bearable, but the theological problems grow at the same time. Ultimately, I would not waste my time by reading this again, and I would not recommend it to anyone else either.
My Rating: MT (sexual references and content, violence, frightening ideas and images)
Hm. This book had great potential, but overly dramatic writing and shaky theology derailed it before it really got started. I mean, what could be cooler than angels and demons engaged in a spiritual battle, while human underdogs try to fight off an evil organization that is trying to take over the world? But the book just sort of fell on its face.
First, the writing in the beginning of the book nearly made me quit several times. Peretti attempted to throw the reader into the angels' urgent situation without any background. This might have worked, except he eliminated dialogue that would have been in there, in my opinion, had he not intended to keep the reader in the dark about the forces of light. (Forgive the pun.) Plus, I disliked the drama in the angels' dialogue. One of my favorite Chesterton quotes reads as follows: "Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly." Instead, Peretti's angels seem to be fully aware of the drama of their situation.
Fortunately, the writing got better as the book went on. Unfortunately, the theology did not.
On the surface, this book is great. It's essentially a warning against New Age religions, which seem to be benign but are really very dangerous. In Peretti's book, people's lives are destroyed or lost because of New Age influences, and fortune telling and other dangerous practices are similarly condemned.
Below the surface, however, the theology is shaky. Hank repeatedly drives demons out of afflicted people in the town, while other lay persons "rebuke" demons. I'm not sure if a lay person could ever drive out a demon from a possessed person. What I do know is that Catholic canon law states that exorcists must be priests appointed specifically for that task by their bishops. That sounds to me as if it is impossible or nearly impossible for a lay person to drive out demons. Additionally, I have read that exorcisms are processes that can take years of repitition before they are successful. I estimate that the longest it takes Hank to drive out a demon is about ten minutes.
Also, it bothered me that the only Catholics in the book were considered "superstitious." The Catholic items around their house were considered evidence for their superstitious minds. Now, to be fair, the main character who was in that scene was not really religious and therefore wouldn't understand pictures of Mary, etc. However, there was no correction of this mistake later in the book; as far as the reader knows, it's superstitious to have crucifixes and images of Mary about the house. That is not true or fair. Catholics have such images because they lift our minds to God, both because they are reminders and because they are beautiful. Superstition does not fit into the equation.
Plagued by a melodramatic writing style and theological difficulties, This Present Darkness takes a little while just to get off the ground. In the middle, the pace speeds up enough to be bearable, but the theological problems grow at the same time. Ultimately, I would not waste my time by reading this again, and I would not recommend it to anyone else either.
My Rating: MT (sexual references and content, violence, frightening ideas and images)
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Concerning Unplanned
(Written by Abby Johnson, with Cindy Lambert.) Abby Johnson grew up in a pro-life, Christian family. While in college, she was recruited to be a volunteer at a nearby Planned Parenthood. Planned Parenthood was there to help women, she was told, and as a worker there she would be making a difference in the lives of women who were in need of her help. Abortion was not the primary goal of Planned Parenthood; in fact, one of Planned Parenthood's primary goals was to reduce the number of abortions. Abby rose in the ranks and finally became director of a clinic. Then something happened to change her mind and her heart.
In my humble experience and opinion, there are only three types of people in favor of legalized abortion. 1) Evil people who are perfectly aware that abortion is murder but think that some things are more important than the lives of unborn children. 2) People who have been deceived, either by others or by themselves, into thinking that abortion is just the "termination of a pregnancy" or the cleaning out of a "cluster of cells." 3) People who are ignorant and don't know/care much about abortion either way. Abby Johnson's story shows that, at least in Texas, many of the people working in Planned Parenthood clinics fall into the second category. They were deceived by others at the start, and have been deceiving themselves ever since.
This is a good lesson that should be taken to heart by pro-lifers. It's easy to hate on people involved in something as appalling as abortion. But sometimes people who are aligned with something evil are not really evil themselves; as they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Plus, the pro-life movement is not just about the sanctity of life; it is about the dignity of every person, no matter how small. People who work for abortion clinics deserve to be treated with dignity because they are human persons as well.
I don't really want to say too much more because I think the impacts of stories like this one are greater when fewer details are known going into the stories. The only other thing I want to say is that this book is very fair and even-handed. Abby genuinely liked/likes pro-abortion people she worked for or with. This is not a cathartic rant about the evils of the clinic and those who participated in abortions; this is a simple story about a young woman discovering the truth.
Note: Abby's website can be found at abbyjohnson.org.
My Rating: T (mentions of abortions, thematic elements; no graphic descriptions)
In my humble experience and opinion, there are only three types of people in favor of legalized abortion. 1) Evil people who are perfectly aware that abortion is murder but think that some things are more important than the lives of unborn children. 2) People who have been deceived, either by others or by themselves, into thinking that abortion is just the "termination of a pregnancy" or the cleaning out of a "cluster of cells." 3) People who are ignorant and don't know/care much about abortion either way. Abby Johnson's story shows that, at least in Texas, many of the people working in Planned Parenthood clinics fall into the second category. They were deceived by others at the start, and have been deceiving themselves ever since.
This is a good lesson that should be taken to heart by pro-lifers. It's easy to hate on people involved in something as appalling as abortion. But sometimes people who are aligned with something evil are not really evil themselves; as they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Plus, the pro-life movement is not just about the sanctity of life; it is about the dignity of every person, no matter how small. People who work for abortion clinics deserve to be treated with dignity because they are human persons as well.
I don't really want to say too much more because I think the impacts of stories like this one are greater when fewer details are known going into the stories. The only other thing I want to say is that this book is very fair and even-handed. Abby genuinely liked/likes pro-abortion people she worked for or with. This is not a cathartic rant about the evils of the clinic and those who participated in abortions; this is a simple story about a young woman discovering the truth.
Note: Abby's website can be found at abbyjohnson.org.
My Rating: T (mentions of abortions, thematic elements; no graphic descriptions)
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Regarding Rachel's Contrition
(Written by Michelle Buckman.) Rachel is only twenty-five, but her life is a mess. She is separated from her husband. She sees her son just every other weekend. Her beautiful baby girl is dead. Drowning in a mist of prescription pain-killers and anti-depressants, her memory alternately fails her and hits her in the face with scenes from her past that she would rather forget. It seems that nothing will pull her out of her despair. Then she becomes friends with Lilly, a teenager who is struggling through her own problems. Lilly gives her a book about Saint Therese of Lisieux, and Rachel begins to see a tiny crack of light in the darkness.
It seems trite to sum up an entire book with one word, especially a book as complex as this one, but I think an appropriate word to use in describing this book would be Love. On second thought, "Love" is correct, but "word" does not fit - "name" is better. Throughout the whole story, Rachel is searching for love, but not just everyday, happily-ever-after love; she's searching for Love, another name for God.
I didn't know quite what to expect from this book. In my experience, there are very few really Catholic novels out there. I knew authoress Michelle Buckman was Catholic before I started reading, but I thought perhaps she had diluted some of the Catholic elements she might have put in. I was wrong. While I don't think the Catholicism in this book would offend non-Catholics, Catholic teaching on suffering, love, healing, and many other things are woven into the story.
A particularly beautiful part is the St. Therese book that Rachel reads. Little snippets from St. Therese's autobiography are included in the story, and Rachel finds the Little Flower's reflections on Love, love, the dark night of the soul, and suffering to be comforting at the very least. Through St. Therese's gentle words and the kind friendship of a priest, Rachel finds the courage to open herself to Love.
Common misconceptions about Catholicism, specifically about statues and saints, are neatly explained in a few words by Rachel's priest friend. As a cradle Catholic, I found that short exchange to be pretty boring, but I'm glad Michelle Buckman took the time to show that Catholics really don't worship saints or statues in any sense of the word.
Despite and partly because of the rich Catholicism in this book, it is by no means family-friendly. Dark subject material is dealt with, from drugs (both prescription and recreational) and murder to extra-marital affairs and sexual abuse of minors. While everything is handled with delicacy and there isn't any truly explicit material, I would definitely recommend an older person pre-read this for any young teenager.
The dark is illuminated by some bright spots and moments, however. Characters like Ricky and Father Jacobsen show Rachel true compassion and love, helping her through the darkest period in her already dark life. A few beautiful moments like one in the hospital and another in the library are touching, and serve to lighten the book with little glimmers of hope.
Unfortunately, I guessed the murderer. However, since that isn't a huge part of the book, I can overlook that. Ultimately, the book is about Rachel discovering what - and Who - love really is. When she does this, she's able to accept love - and Love - in her life. In the end, that's what everyone needs.
My Rating: MT (sexual content and references, thematic elements, drug abuse, severe family problems)
It seems trite to sum up an entire book with one word, especially a book as complex as this one, but I think an appropriate word to use in describing this book would be Love. On second thought, "Love" is correct, but "word" does not fit - "name" is better. Throughout the whole story, Rachel is searching for love, but not just everyday, happily-ever-after love; she's searching for Love, another name for God.
I didn't know quite what to expect from this book. In my experience, there are very few really Catholic novels out there. I knew authoress Michelle Buckman was Catholic before I started reading, but I thought perhaps she had diluted some of the Catholic elements she might have put in. I was wrong. While I don't think the Catholicism in this book would offend non-Catholics, Catholic teaching on suffering, love, healing, and many other things are woven into the story.
A particularly beautiful part is the St. Therese book that Rachel reads. Little snippets from St. Therese's autobiography are included in the story, and Rachel finds the Little Flower's reflections on Love, love, the dark night of the soul, and suffering to be comforting at the very least. Through St. Therese's gentle words and the kind friendship of a priest, Rachel finds the courage to open herself to Love.
Common misconceptions about Catholicism, specifically about statues and saints, are neatly explained in a few words by Rachel's priest friend. As a cradle Catholic, I found that short exchange to be pretty boring, but I'm glad Michelle Buckman took the time to show that Catholics really don't worship saints or statues in any sense of the word.
Despite and partly because of the rich Catholicism in this book, it is by no means family-friendly. Dark subject material is dealt with, from drugs (both prescription and recreational) and murder to extra-marital affairs and sexual abuse of minors. While everything is handled with delicacy and there isn't any truly explicit material, I would definitely recommend an older person pre-read this for any young teenager.
The dark is illuminated by some bright spots and moments, however. Characters like Ricky and Father Jacobsen show Rachel true compassion and love, helping her through the darkest period in her already dark life. A few beautiful moments like one in the hospital and another in the library are touching, and serve to lighten the book with little glimmers of hope.
Unfortunately, I guessed the murderer. However, since that isn't a huge part of the book, I can overlook that. Ultimately, the book is about Rachel discovering what - and Who - love really is. When she does this, she's able to accept love - and Love - in her life. In the end, that's what everyone needs.
My Rating: MT (sexual content and references, thematic elements, drug abuse, severe family problems)
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
On Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
(Written by Lewis Carroll.) A curious little girl sees a white rabbit with a waistcoat and watch hurry by her and promptly decides to follow him. She tumbles down an amazing rabbit hole with bookshelves and all sorts of things lining the sides, taking absolute ages to get the bottom. Then, well, you know the rest...
Considering that this book or its sequel are mentioned in dozens of movies and books from The Matrix to Regina Doman's Black as Night, I was rather surprised at its simplicity. Though many people have read all sorts of double meanings and dark underlying themes into this book, I found it to be a children's story at heart.
The biggest connection I made was one that Lewis Carroll may or may not have intended: Alice's conversations with the different animals and other creatures in Wonderland are remarkably similar to conversations in academia. No one will give a straight answer, and many people tend to change the courses of conversations so that they don't actually lose even when they're in the wrong. What started out as a debate about one thing can very often (I might even say almost always) morph into a debate about something else - a distraction. When the losing person realizes that he or she is even losing the distracting argument, the subject is changed once again. That can be every bit as frustrating as Alice's attempts to have intelligent conversations with the creatures in Wonderland.
I realize that people have written miles and miles of words about this book and its sequel (complete with distracting arguments), but I don't really see that it contains a meaning much deeper than any other coming of age story. However, like many other surreal or fantastic (as in fantasy) classic books, people have felt the need to dissect it over and over again. I say they should just curl up with a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in one hand and a cup of hot chocolate in the other and leave their dissecting tools in the cupboard for a little while. Alice needs no deeper meanings to be enjoyed.
My Rating: AGC
Considering that this book or its sequel are mentioned in dozens of movies and books from The Matrix to Regina Doman's Black as Night, I was rather surprised at its simplicity. Though many people have read all sorts of double meanings and dark underlying themes into this book, I found it to be a children's story at heart.
The biggest connection I made was one that Lewis Carroll may or may not have intended: Alice's conversations with the different animals and other creatures in Wonderland are remarkably similar to conversations in academia. No one will give a straight answer, and many people tend to change the courses of conversations so that they don't actually lose even when they're in the wrong. What started out as a debate about one thing can very often (I might even say almost always) morph into a debate about something else - a distraction. When the losing person realizes that he or she is even losing the distracting argument, the subject is changed once again. That can be every bit as frustrating as Alice's attempts to have intelligent conversations with the creatures in Wonderland.
I realize that people have written miles and miles of words about this book and its sequel (complete with distracting arguments), but I don't really see that it contains a meaning much deeper than any other coming of age story. However, like many other surreal or fantastic (as in fantasy) classic books, people have felt the need to dissect it over and over again. I say they should just curl up with a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in one hand and a cup of hot chocolate in the other and leave their dissecting tools in the cupboard for a little while. Alice needs no deeper meanings to be enjoyed.
My Rating: AGC
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
In Relation To Pride and Prescience
Written by Carrie Bebris; Book One in the Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mysteries
Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet are now Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. But, to Elizabeth's vexation, their joint wedding reception with the new Mr. and Mrs. Bingley is marred by Caroline Bingley's engagement announcement. Miss Bingley and her fiance, an American named Mr. Parrish, seem determined to steal the attention of society away from the former Miss Bennets and their new husbands, planning an extremely elaborate wedding ceremony in London just one week after their engagement announcement. Elizabeth's vexation at Miss Bingley's pretentiousness is gradually lessened, however, as the vain young woman begins to act increasingly strangely - to the point of trying to kill herself.
I am not a huge fan of fan fiction. In fact, I think authors who write fan fiction are poor writers; a truly great writer would invent his or her own characters, without having to rely on someone else's creations. Stories are important, but it's the characters that really bring a book to life.With such a low opinion of fan fiction books, I went into this one with trepidation. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy may well be my favorite literary couple of all time, and the last thing I wanted was to see their characters ruined. I was pleasantly surprised, at least with regard to Mr. Darcy. His character is portrayed faithfully; firm, honorable, and madly in love with Elizabeth (though perhaps he has a little better sense of humor than Austen gave him). Elizabeth is not as faithfully shown, however. A rather big deal is made of her wonderful perceptiveness at times, which is utterly ridiculous considering how unperceptive she turns out to be in Jane Austen's original story. Jane and Bingley are perfect, though I would have liked them to be in the story a bit more than they were.
While the characters are much like they're supposed to be, I'm afraid the writing style is not quite true. While I don't mind some sentences being modernized (after all, no one reads books filled with double negatives nowadays), I didn't care for the modernized dialogue. At select times it was excruciatingly painful. I highly doubt the expressions "handle it" or "check on" had been invented at the time of Austen's classic. If they were, they were not used among polite society.
The dialogue was a little tiresome; the story was more tiresome still. The resolution was much too obvious for my taste; I had almost all the details worked out little more than halfway through the book. Furthermore, I got the distinct impression that the authoress was intentially trying to imitate the kind of story one might find in a gothic novel. The book revolved around the supernatural, something that evidently showed up often in gothic novels. However, I highly doubt Austen would have approved of her characters being transplanted into these novels. After all, Northanger Abbey is practically a satire of gothic novels' mysterious and mystical elements.
My Rating: T (non-religious supernatural elements, slightly gruesome murder, thematic elements)
Picture from carriebebris.com
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