a sweet and melancholy dreaminess gives this book a soft glow. the suburbs, parents trying to get by, ideal siblings - one strange, one protective. tha sweet and melancholy dreaminess gives this book a soft glow. the suburbs, parents trying to get by, ideal siblings - one strange, one protective. the unnamed middle child, our protagonist, is perfectly rendered. there is a murderer and there is magic, perhaps, and there is a ghost, most likely. and there is an unsentimental, nuanced realism - but a realism suffused with an almost offhand warmth. the prose is lovely. fleeting but important moments are captured with clarity. the author has a poetic way with words. he knows how to portray stillness and how to illustrate the ambiguity of a child's perspective. I love the world this book created....more
boy falls for older boy while at boarding school. is it a crush, true love, or the relationship that will come to define him? was he "in the making" aboy falls for older boy while at boarding school. is it a crush, true love, or the relationship that will come to define him? was he "in the making" and then, at the end, finally made, set, his trajectory predetermined? the idea is a dark one.
the imagery is intense; the prose is like honey. very easy to get lost in all of the beautiful sentences, the good kind of lost. a Faulkner kind of lost, with a Jamesian style. the characterization of this boy is so deep and rich, the story must include autobiographical elements.
the first chapter, exploring his world as an often solitary child lost in his thoughts and imagination, finding symbolic meaning in the world around him, was so beautifully written, sensual in its details, and resonant to me on a personal level. later chapters as he finds himself adapting - surprisingly successfully - to his new world outside of his home, at boarding school, were equally resonant. I really saw a lot of myself in this kid. the longest and most important chapter recounts a Halloween party and the moments when the two boys are at their closest. this is one of the most incredibly written sequences I've ever read in any book. layers of meaning meets layers of imagery meets layers of deep characterization. *swoon*
the last few chapters portray the coming apart of their relationship, the boy's fall from grace with the school, his defiance, and then his disinterest in engaging with anything at his school, now that he recognizes this part of his life is over. and yet the last chapter as he leaves this school makes clear his life is far from over. given the time in which this book was written, I really appreciated the assumption that his life will go on, very much changed, but it will still go on, and the boy will continue living in this strange world.
he is no longer in the making, no longer a formless thing reacting to the world, an inchoate shape. he has been made, he has become fully formed: the "patterns of his life were achieved." this is the last sentence; it is a tragedy but also a reality. many of our adult selves were made in our childhood. my wish for this child is that he could move beyond those patterns. but it does not appear as if G.F. Green thought that could be possible.
the psychologist Kazimierz Dąbrowski wrote of "positive disintegration" which is a theory about personality development. it is a potential "third stage" that comes for some, after nature and nurture. a person who strives to understand themselves and the world around them can embrace a temporary form of personality disintegration, where they let go of what they know and what they think they know. if they are truly capable of redevelopment - mainly due to possessing a characteristic that Dąbrowski calls "overexcitability" - then they are open to new inputs, new ideas, new ways of thinking and being. and so a person can remake themselves, they can develop a conscience and an outlook that does not stay chained to nature or nurture. the boy of In the Making experiences this disintegration. it made for the most compelling moments in this book and is why this was a uniquely affecting experience for me.
unfortunately for the boy, his positive disintegration is not a temporary thing. which according to Dąbrowski, is what is key to the development of an open, curious, flexible personality. the disintegration must be temporary and it must be not lead to fixity. the boy's emotionally overexcitable persona indeed disintegrates during this period of openness, but he does not come back from it; all that is left behind is a yearning but essentially loveless pattern that will now be repeated. rather than a new understanding of how life need not be a fixed line. this was instructive and also deeply sad. as are all such fixed states.
the introduction is by Peter Parker. it is a brief but still excellent overview of the author's immaculate prose style, his troubled life, and the writing of this book. it does not explore his suicide in 1977, at the age of 66. it is clear to me, from what I know of his life, that George Frederick Green did not escape the patterns that controlled his own trajectory....more
a simple lesson, simply told: don't let group-think turn you into a dumb fascist; be an individual. no problem with the message of course, and who'd ba simple lesson, simply told: don't let group-think turn you into a dumb fascist; be an individual. no problem with the message of course, and who'd be against that message anyway besides dumb fascists? the writing was totally uninteresting but also totally inoffensive. a small thing that really stood out was how much these early 80s teens smoked. different times, different times. i saw the twist (of sorts) at the end coming, but it was still enjoyable to watch a bunch of proto-hitler youth get literally schooled. even more enjoyable to me is the cover of my copy:
synopsis: a young girl becomes a brave hero who rescues a forlorn gentleman in distress.
judging from reviews, this is apparently DWJ's most challenginsynopsis: a young girl becomes a brave hero who rescues a forlorn gentleman in distress.
judging from reviews, this is apparently DWJ's most challenging novel. whether it is the layers of references to myths and folk songs, the hallucinogenic final battle, a potentially uncomfortable scenario in which a 10 year old girl finds a connection with a grown man and later falls in love with him, or even the surprisingly casual, minor note quality of the ending... many readers find this to be a confusing and disappointing experience. all of that sounded fascinating to me, especially after loving the Chrestomanci series. and so I dove in, ready to be wonderfully perplexed by the strangeness of it all...
synopsis: in 80s London, a child grows up and a man gets a life.
...and yet this was not a discombobulating experience for me, nor a disturbing one. DWJ has that enviable skill of being able to weave the magical with the mundane in a way that does not take a reader out of the book, but further in. into the realism of the relationships, into the ambiguous magic that comes out of nowhere. Polly Whittacker is an admirable character and also a completely normal human being, as often wrong as she is right, full of pride and insecurities, acting exactly how I could see myself acting at her age. Polly's admiration for Thomas Lynn becomes an intense, one-sided crush, but one of the great things about this book is how it shows the reader Polly's whole world, not just that part of her: we live with her family & friends & how she grows up & how she deals with untrustworthy parents & how she forms her identity & how she views herself and the world around her. Thomas is only a part of that world, sometimes the most important part, but more often not. and the same is true for Thomas. Polly is very important to him but Polly is not his whole world. they may be each other's spur to move forward, but neither is the other's reason for being. nor is the upper crust world of icy villain Laurel - complete with sinister Faerie Court and literally mind-bending magic - remotely Polly's world, so she sees them through her own mortal perspective. which made the hallucinatory ending where Tom is enmeshed in a magical confrontation fairly straightforward to me...
synopsis: a sidekick is mentored by a hero; together they have adventures. in time, the hero himself needs rescuing by his former sidekick, now a hero.
...the battle is won because Polly lets it all go. Laurel has made it clear that the rules are both basic and reversed. Tom can only draw on what is truly his, his own physical self; and his many strengths will be as weaknesses. and so Tom can rely on no one but himself, he can receive no aid; his skills and belongings are of no help; Polly herself must renounce him so that he can survive. faeries are tricky! fortunately, Polly understands the phrase "If you love someone, set them free" - and perhaps its second half as well, "if they come back to you, it was meant to be.” and so Tom wins, because of Polly. and so Tom comes back to her, at first in a very dramatic way but finally, at the very end, in a very nonchalant and realistic way as well. the danger is over, they are back in their world that is both banal and magical. I wonder if Polly will even end up with Tom. that's also a part of the magic of this book: Tom will always be a very important person in her life, her first mentor and her first crush, but she doesn't need to be with him to love him, she doesn't even need to be in love with him to love him. my money is on Polly ending up with Leslie.
synopsis: The Faerie Queen enchants a musician; to his rescue comes a mere mortal, crossing space and time and all the spells cast against her, armed only with her courage, her memories, and the sensible advice of her grandmother.
my edition includes an essay by the author on The Heroic Ideal and how that ideal impacted her own growth, and how she used it to layer different heroic odysseys and heroic templates into this realistic, contemporary story of a young girl growing up. the essay is fascinating and after reading it, I was even more impressed by the book. but not because of those layers and subtleties and symbols. rather, because her story is understandable and resonant and completely absorbing without even knowing how loaded the story is with mythopoeic meaning. I did love learning all about how complex this novel truly is, how intricate its construction. but in the end, I don't need to know all about the different pieces of a person's history or about their inspirations in order to appreciate a person. or a book! the complexity and the care taken in creating Fire and Hemlock is readily apparent, without explanation....more
don't spend time wondering about dumb things like how well boys would do without girls in their lives or vice versa. don't continue with this so-calledon't spend time wondering about dumb things like how well boys would do without girls in their lives or vice versa. don't continue with this so-called review if you don't like outright SPOILERS AHEAD. don't read Dead Poet's Slaughter Society if you don't like reading about growing up or mass murder. also,
after my aggravating experience reading Goblin, I'm glad that Malerman restored my faith in him with this sweet, tightly paced, mainly well-written, occassionally brutal, and eventually very bloody coming of age tale. Inspection has its weaknesses, such as the self-indulgence in depicting a pretentious teacher and the weak motivation for the novel's two striking villains. to the latter: placing the blame on a sour feminist for creating this sick mini-dystopia was a terribly cringey decision. all that said, I loved how well the kids are characterized. empathetic and I think realistically done. the setting is well-drawn and the atmosphere is eerie from beginning to end - the author clearly grew past his Goblin mistakes. and it was great seeing some girls really take care of business when the tone moves from dreamlike to frantic in an expected but still charmingly berserk finale. kill 'em all, kiddos!...more
synopsis: pirates can have a heart; children, never.
I have a shelf called "World of Insects" where I put literary novels whose perspectives on human nsynopsis: pirates can have a heart; children, never.
I have a shelf called "World of Insects" where I put literary novels whose perspectives on human nature are cold and detached; these stories often function as dissections. They provide examples of how humans lack a moral compass and follow predictably selfish behavior patterns. I have another shelf called "These Fragile Lives" with books that illustrate how humans are a complex and delicate web of emotions. These warmer stories depict human nature with a certain empathy. A High Wind in Jamaica belongs on both shelves. This off-putting but still quite absorbing anti-adventure has a dual perspective. The writing is both sardonic and sunny, at once disturbingly realistic and gorgeously poetic; the tone is light that conceals darkness; the narrative is a wonderful series of surprises yet is also one that is bleak, deterministic. The pirates are sympathetic until one is reminded that some men want adult things from a child. The kids are delightful until one is reminded that some children aren't overly concerned with truth or kindness. Remind me to never go on a pirate adventure with either children or pirates!
High school life apparently sucks. So does this book.
10 Things I Hate About You, Skippy Dies
(1) Nihilistic misery porn is never my favorite. Too bitteHigh school life apparently sucks. So does this book.
10 Things I Hate About You, Skippy Dies
(1) Nihilistic misery porn is never my favorite. Too bitter and sour to the taste, and lacking richness. Strange that people love to eat this stuff up. Isn't the world grotesque and maudlin enough to satisfy any hunger people may have for dying-inside despair? Ugh. Obnoxious books like this one are only looking at the trash side of the world, refusing to see anything that doesn't fit into their points of view. Joyless novels that pretend to portray real life make me break out.
(2) I get it that high school really sucked for a lot of people. I get it, I get it. My experience wasn't everyone's experience. But was it and is it truly hell on earth for everyone involved, students and teachers alike - literally all the time? That's the perspective of this epic (fail). It's some kind of achievement to be able to write a 600+ page book that manages to remain so one-note. Reverse-kudos and a Pelosi clap for the author. Paul Murray, I'm sorry that you hated high school, but I also don't think you needed to write an entire book about how much you hated high school and how you think everyone else did too. And how you think both high school and life itself are just a real waste of time. When your thesis is that high school - and being alive - is pure torture for everyone involved, that unimaginative thesis gets an F.
(3) The supporting characters are flat caricatures. It's like the author decided to give them one attribute and then ran with that attribute for 600+ pages. There's the kid who is cynical, the kid who speaks in a zombie voice, the kid who is Italian, the kid who insists she's pregnant. Etc. For a book so big, its ability to bring to life what should have been a vital supporting cast of teenagers is so, so small. Small talent at characterization and a large amount of small-mindedness.
(4) Apparently the entire purpose of the co-protagonist - a pathos-ridden teacher - is to portray a man who never does the right thing because he is so pathetic and weak. This is the opposite of an interesting or dynamic character. This static cardboard cutout is nearly half of the book. Whyyyyyyy
(5) Skippy dies deluded. Skippy is the most vibrant, good-natured, and fully realized character in the book. It must have pained the author to write about him, so he punishes Skippy mercilessly. Skippy gets to fall in love with a girl who doesn't love him, he gets to have a mother with cancer, he gets to have a distant father who doesn't support him, he gets to have teachers who don't understand him, he gets to have a principal who is his enemy, he gets to have peer pressure, oh and he gets to have a coach who drugs and molests him and then gets off scot-free. He gets to die in the opening pages and his last thoughts are about the girl who doesn't love him. And then his death becomes commodified. Skippy can't catch a break, even after he's dead.
(6) Okay I liked the teacher's live-in girlfriend, especially after she moves out. But other than her, the female characters in this book are a joke. I don't think the author likes women too much. Someone musta broke his heart :(
(7) The cruelty. TO ALL OF ITS CHARACTERS.
(8) The lack of empathy masking itself as empathy.
(9) The strong start that fooled me into thinking that this would be a big book full of life, despite the title. The realization that the book is as superficial and simple-minded as its title. Well, I can't say that the title didn't warn me.
(10) The author somehow thinks he's really, really funny. Strident repetition and joyless caricatures are not funny. Laughing at your own characters' stupidity and misery is also not funny. The author has no discernible sense of humor, despite his insistence that he is a really, really funny guy. Which really, really annoys me.
I thought this would be a chilly psychological murder mystery with a classic French Existentialism™ gloss. Instead I read a haunting character study oI thought this would be a chilly psychological murder mystery with a classic French Existentialism™ gloss. Instead I read a haunting character study of a child filled with angst and dread, trying and failing to make sense of the disorienting world around him, never understanding the true nature of his existence in this meaningless, absurd, and often deadly world. Which is basically French Existentialism in a nutshell. Beautifully written, mysterious and moving and humane, and so very sad....more
There is a lovely story in Son, all about a girl who has forgotten her traumatic past, slowly finding herself and redefining herself at a leisurely paThere is a lovely story in Son, all about a girl who has forgotten her traumatic past, slowly finding herself and redefining herself at a leisurely pace in a small and very rural coastal village. I was enchanted by this deliberately reflective middle section. Lowry's talents were in full bloom: a pastoral scene was perfectly set and a meditative mood established; the sweet peacefulness of this community and its potential for kindness - for human kindness in general - was illustrated while the potential for small-minded behavior in such a setting was still carefully criticized. This entire sequence was in striking contrast to the increasingly nightmarish communities in which the prior three books were located. It almost acted as an antidote: Lowry lets her readers know that her future world of a severely stratified humanity still has room for places that do not diminish, degrade, or infantilize its residents. Not all human paths lead to dark places. This section had a calm and a tenderness that I really appreciated.
Sadly, this section is surrounded by two sections that were less inspiring. The first section is a retread of the first book, albeit from another character's perspective. This part wasn't bad - but it wasn't very interesting either. Been there done that, I guess. Also has to be said that I was less than eager to return to that setting - by the end of the first book, it was such a relief to leave it! The third, final section of the book was very problematic for me. It was unfortunate that "human evil" was so completely literalized into what is basically a fantasy figure, an inhuman bugaboo that can be dispelled. Lowry flirted with fantasy with the evil forest of the third book, but this was a bridge too far for me. Not the fantasy part - although the magical quality of the threat does muddy and confuse this series a bit - but the idea that human evil could be overcome by vanquishing an outside threat. That rather lets humanity off of the hook, I think. Humans are quite capable of vicious behavior without the intercession of some inhuman force. And the entire ending of the book felt rushed and just a bit too easy. Depth and understanding of human nature was replaced by plucky goodness versus snarling magical malice. Eh.
Even more sadly, the middle section is the source of ire for many reviewers of this book who felt it was the weakest section. Apparently they were bored and felt it lacked action. That thirst for facile narrative thrills at the expense of thoughtfulness always annoys me. And I have to say that such discontented readers appear to have forgotten what made the prior books so strong: their careful contemplation of human communities and their interest in defying reader expectations. Those books don't exist to pound the pulse. They exist to quicken the mind, to expand the heart, to nourish the soul. Makes me wonder if, in their yearning for superficial excitement, such readers have missed the entire point of the series.
All that said, Son still functions as a moving ode to the feelings of mother for child. Especially moving when knowing of the passing of the author's own son. The prior book Messenger was a beautiful elegy to that child. This book may be less successful than that one, but it is just as full of heart....more
Aubrey - country-born, smart-mouthed, and 15 years of age - makes his way from the backwoods of Epping Forest to Londontown in 1598. There he will fulAubrey - country-born, smart-mouthed, and 15 years of age - makes his way from the backwoods of Epping Forest to Londontown in 1598. There he will fulfill his rather less than glorious destiny: he shall briefly become a "pander" - those honey-tongued serpents who lure naive country lasses into brothel work; he shall toil for two criminal houses - led by rival brothers; he shall marry and have a son with a fellow member of the criminal underclass - the redoubtable, sensible Jenny; he shall be a messenger for secretive religious fanatics - a lucrative albeit dangerous venture; and he shall befriend Shakespeare - and so develop a love for the theater, despite Jenny's objections that such things are for boys. All of this shall come to pass before he reaches 18.
Three Years To Play was a marvelous adventure and slice of life, warts and all. I doubt that most novels featuring a frank detailing of the life of a pander in the slums of London would ever be described as pleasant. And yet very pleasant it was. Breezy and merry, openhearted, and generous in its characterization, while never turning a blind eye to the dirtiness and deadliness of its time period... the book was a delight from start to finish. Aubrey and London during the turn of the 16th century really came alive. The book was a rich experience, and a sweet one, so I prolonged my reading of it for as long as possible. It is a book in love with living, and so I fell in love with it as well. The melancholy ending - mournful for those that have passed, and for the passing of time itself - was the bittersweet cherry on top. It is a new favorite and one of the very best books I've read all year.
I've been waiting for this book for a long while. Colin MacInnes' most famous book, Absolute Beginners, is an absolute favorite. Over the years I've been working my way through his titles, hoping to recapture that magic. My time in his oeuvre has been a mixed but mainly pleasant one, but it wasn't until Three Years to Play that I felt that same feeling: I was again reading a vibrant, charming, utterly realistic yet surprisingly hopeful story of a young person finding himself, reveling in the strange wonders of a new life in the big city, discovering the world's harsh realities, embracing difference, looking for adventure (and cash, and love), and always moving forward. I laughed a lot while Aubrey learned a lot; I shed tears in the end alongside him.
A few things that made the experience all the better: first, the bisexual MacInnes' inclusion of perhaps stereotypical queer characters who rise well above stereotype in the depth of their characterization; second, the slowly dawning realization that the plot of the story parallels one of Shakespeare's more famous comedies; third, the language. I can't oversell that third point because it really made the book a unique experience for me. Three Years To Play is written in the language of its time. I've read many of Shakespeare's plays, so I'm familiar with that language, but this is my first time seeing it so completely and successfully accomplished within a novel's format. This is a first person narrative so it is beyond the dialogue: Aubrey thinks in this language as well. The time MacInnes must have spent on perfecting this work blows my mind. Each sentence, each paragraph was worth savoring. As was the entire book!...more
(1) recently I went on vacation with a guy who is one of my very best friends (was a best man at his wedding!) and his charming wife. one intense even(1) recently I went on vacation with a guy who is one of my very best friends (was a best man at his wedding!) and his charming wife. one intense evening he let me know that he thinks I'm a real asshole - condescending, mean-spirited, always trying to be clever at the expense of my friends' feelings - and that most of our mutual friends felt the same way: I was someone "people had to deal with". (2) last week saw one of my staff moving on to another program; she had a tear-filled meeting with me where she talked about how much she valued my emotional support during some hard times in her life and how much she was going to miss my kindness; later that night, I had a long conversation with my mom and she ended the call by saying how I was the only person she felt comfortable talking with about spirituality, God, and acceptance. (3) last weekend I had an awesome date: I introduced her to this secret bar in Japantown and I got rambunctious and talked too loud; later on in the street I got into a physical altercation with some drunk jerk, defending her honor as a trans woman (jerk got shoved, then tripped & fell into a gutter, haha); we ended the evening having a wild time back at my place. later she texted me and said that I was probably too crazy for her, but we could keep it casual and see each other in a couple weeks, maybe.
it's funny to think on the different sides we all have and the different sides other people see - and yet all those sides are one person. we hold many selves.
SOME SPOILERS AHEAD... maybe?
this wonderful novel knows the idea of "many selves" is true, even as we may try to ignore that truth. it divides its so-called Trickster into three selves: mind, heart, body. the Mind is clever, entertaining, manipulative, cruel. the Heart is the best self yet sometimes the weakest; he shows his face the least, bullied into a corner by his brothers. and the Body has a kind of charisma, sure, but is also basically an animal, or a human who gets off on animalistic things. one of the many smart things that Margaret Mahy does is have the boy who is the Heart look identical to the boy who is the Body. I think we all know that sometimes we mix those two things up. the Mind looks nothing like them and is clearly top dog. or at least he thinks he is!
this is one of those coming of age tales that has a prickly-endearing protagonist who is both isolated and creative, an outsider looking in, sardonic perspective and all. it adds unsettling moments of dark fantasy and horror to its everyday wonders and realities, its sweet and its bitter. for a person like me - and probably a person like you, because you're a reader too - middle daughter Harry was frustrating and also instantly recognizable, relatable, lovable. she lives in her books and her writing and her fantasy version of a world, one that is all her own. she is surrounded by family and yet feels alone, not recognized, put in a box. not an outcast, just different. and so she summons this Trickster, this ghost split into three parts; she summons him - them - unwillingly and unwittingly, in a way that defies logic but with a result that also makes perfect sense. of course she summons an angry-sad, lonely, misunderstood boy. and of course that boy is misunderstood because he is composed of different parts, different selves. people see the wrong sides of him, and of her too. she's misunderstood; he's misunderstood; we're all misunderstood. The Tricksters makes it clear that all of us are many things and all of us will never be fully understood. it makes that lack of understanding sad, even tragic. and it makes it okay. it's what happens to you and me and everyone. and it also makes it clear that, in the end, our best self, our Heart, is the self that counts. it's the one that should win - and in this case, it does. the heart of the novel The Tricksters is a hopeful one, and full of love.
This novel provides an excellent example of the basic difference between a good writer and a great writer. Namely,review for The Blacking Factory only
This novel provides an excellent example of the basic difference between a good writer and a great writer. Namely, that the latter is in control of their effects and their story will be going to a place that is resonant, or at least challenging or interesting. Sheed is definitely a good writer.
So Jimmy is a 15 year old American who has been sent to an English boarding school by his newly single dad (poor mum has been sent to an institution). We first meet Jimmy in the book's lengthy opening, during his adult life as an eloquent but occasionally strident right-wing radio commentator operating out of a small town in California. The rest of the novel details his experiences as a youth in both countries, with the idea being that these experiences explain who Jimmy is now, as well as explaining his intense dislike for England and for what he thinks of as the English character.
Young Jimmy is rather an off-putting little dick, quietly convinced of his superiority but not admitting that to himself, and filled with quick loathing - at first - of all things English, and then later, of all things American. The loathing is also aimed at adults, and his father, the women his father dates, his new friends and his old friends, and the general hypocrisies and fakeness of everyday life and everyday conversation. And at himself, of course. Rather a cousin to Holden Caulfield I suppose, except there was a depth to Holden while Jimmy has an at first interestingly disconcerting but soon very tedious blankness.
The writing, when taken out of the context of its surrounding story, is superb. Sentences and paragraphs are beautifully constructed, full of dire wit and dry judgments; the prose alternately exhibits a cold-eyed clarity or a troubling abstractness, depending on the scene or mental state being described. I was disturbed that the mother was so rarely mentioned, until the last few sections, when it became quite clear why Jimmy has avoided even thinking about her. That was well-done. Also well-done (albeit a little long): the poor lad's nervous breakdown at the end. The book has an intriguingly autobiographical feel to it as well.
Sheed can write, certainly. However what is the point, what does it all amount to? If the goal is to explain the adult Jimmy, that failed completely because I was entirely unconvinced that his fairly rote and distinctly not-horrible experiences in both England and America would create the person he matured into. Trauma was noticeably absent at both the boarding school and during his American summer vacation. Being uncomfortable and full of disappointment when in new surroundings will not automatically lead to becoming a toxic adult, and why would it lead to a teen breakdown? There may be a legacy of mental illness, but that potential is not particularly supported by the narrative. The internal, emotional logic of why Jimmy became the adult he is now was absent, and so what I was left with was mainly a lot of witty but definitely quite sour and eventually tiresome critiques of both the English and the American character. My conclusion: Jimmy is simply a natural born asshole. Despite some pleasant and interesting moments during the first English school sequence, overall this novel felt like being forced to listen to some jerk on the radio talking about things he doesn't like, as if I cared.
"A. Carleon" (aka author Rohan O'Grady) narrates a short period in her early teen years within the pageI wished it wouldn't end! Such a great feeling.
"A. Carleon" (aka author Rohan O'Grady) narrates a short period in her early teen years within the pages of her super private journal. Ann Carleon isn't the name given to her, but our narrator despises her birth name of Isabel, so if she wants to be called Ann Carleon - after her grandmother's maiden name - then so be it! Ann details her life and the people in it with verve, a sometimes spiteful wit, and a certain amount of cluelessness: her brilliant and lauded but quite unbearable father "He" and her equally brilliant older sister "Fatso" (who actually isn't - that's just Ann scoring some resentful points) and her mentally unwell mother "She"; her school mates, various other adults and relatives and crushes and a sweet dog who all play key roles in her various dramas, especially her malevolent elderly friend "The General." Ann is a quirky, entirely self-absorbed little thing and not exactly a spreader of love and joy. But she's lovable and certainly relatable to me, or at least the me that was once her age. Sometimes dreadfully maudlin, other times sardonic and wise to bullshit, at all times almost helplessly herself, Ann is both a unique and very familiar creation. It was a pleasure to be in her company.
And poor Ann needs some company! She's an often lonely and iconoclastic young lady (the latter adjective probably explaining the former) with an eccentric family including a mother who has become locked in the past over the horrifying death of her son in the Vietnam War, friends who want to form an exclusive club but perhaps without her, and an obsession with God that leads her to construct a hilariously horrifying pagan idol in an attempt to somehow attract His attention. Because she has some questions she'd like answered. She lives in a small seaside town in late '70s Canada, a town whose charms are rapidly crumbling away thanks to modern development. Ann hates these kinds of changes, really all changes in general, and she hates unanswered questions. Ann could use someone to talk to besides her dog and the misanthropic, flower-obsessed General down the block. Because things can get rather dark at times. Fortunately for her (and her readers), at least she has her journal.
Rohan O'Grady firmly rejects sentimentality but still revels in all of the highs and lows of childhood. Her heroine is vital and real; the way O'Grady so completely lived in her head amazed me. There are a good number of tragic and disturbing things that occur in Ann's life - some of which she barely even recognizes, and others that she purposely avoids thinking about (view spoiler)[but NO sexual abuse, thank God, in case you have challenges reading about that like I do (hide spoiler)] - but O'Grady doesn't make her story a remotely sad one. The book is bubbly, prickly, thoughtful, unpretentious, completely charming, fully alive.
"The May Spoon" is an odd little spoon found by Ann and her sister; Ann recalls the afternoon the spoon was found with clarity, dreaminess, and a certain wonder. It is symbolic of a strangely surreal moment out of time, memorable yet indescribable; similar to déjà vu, but brighter, sharper. A sublime bit of time, one that you remember for no particular reason except the world seemed somehow different, somehow transformed into a beautiful place. I had a May Spoon experience reading this book....more
the art: incredible. Ferris is able to do so much with her crosshatched ballpoint pen drawings. so many ranges of tone conveyed through color and detathe art: incredible. Ferris is able to do so much with her crosshatched ballpoint pen drawings. so many ranges of tone conveyed through color and detail. these dense and intricate illustrations were beautiful, horrible, realistic, fantastical, sweetly childlike, mournfully adult, hallucinatory, vivid, vibrant, and completely emotional. the art is so impressive! it was such a pleasure to swim in these waters. A+++++++
the story: Dickensian and therefore quite moving, but I had issues with it. literally every worst thing in the world imaginable, on the page. although I found all of it to be emotionally affecting (that rabbit scratching the corner in grief!), wall to wall misery porn is really not my thing. also reaches a bit much in its need to collect every outsider/marginalized community/vulnerable individual possible and make them a part of the book. but I don't want to truly slam the story, because I was riveted by the mystery narrative and the intriguing characters. both the story's protagonist and its murder victim are richly realized and wonderfully rendered victim-heroes with whom it is quite easy to empathize despite the extreme, never-ending tragedies in their lives. and there is such a profound synergy between art and story that the parade of horrors aren't completely off-putting when actually reading My Favorite Thing. my issues with the story came well after I finished reading the book, as I reflected on the experience and what I took from it.
je ne sais quoi: I haven't read any other work that has a protagonist with Stendhal syndrome - who also experiences synesthesia! that was fascinating....more
a little girl lives in her dreams, in her icy mansion, her wintry village; as her future approaches, she builds a model of her life to come. the authoa little girl lives in her dreams, in her icy mansion, her wintry village; as her future approaches, she builds a model of her life to come. the author wrote his horror short stories, his tales of unease and things creeping on the outskirts, his ambiguous tales of dread-filled adults and the closed circles they inhabit; he wrote a novella, about a child, about dreams of the future and an uncertain life, unpublished in his lifetime. the girl meets an odd friend who accompanies her on curious adventures; at last, to the big city she comes: her model of her future life has become her life, or at least a dream of it; she steps into this dream, this model. the author used his quietly menacing style in this tale of Elena and this vision of a past Russia, but that style has shifted a bit, softened and simplified, a fable's style: the story is pleasantly unreal, vague, faintly magical. the girl meets an odd friend who she once knew in another life and is warned of an uncertain menace, a corruption of sorts; and so she flees both danger and her dreams. the author armed his novella with cutting points but enclosed them in a gauzy, enveloping circle, sharp things made deceptively softer but still capable of surprising stings; he wrote of hazy adventure and coming of age, obliquely, friendly threats and threatening friends. a young woman returns to her village, her old home, where icy magic and crystalline dreams have thawed into watery, muddy reality.
but the model has remained - still beautiful, but simply a model; she turns from it and sees a new life approaching, a coach, and enters. her real adventure has begun....more
so cheeky, so ingenious! Morrison takes all of the angst-ridden superhero headliners of late 90s comicdom and places them where they belong: in a worlso cheeky, so ingenious! Morrison takes all of the angst-ridden superhero headliners of late 90s comicdom and places them where they belong: in a world built by the CW network. apparently he was inspired by MTV's laughably superficial reality-soap Laguna Hills. watching these soulless plasticine twentysomethings mindlessly chat about romance, bromance, the latest party, the latest art opening, etc, while avoiding a deeper discussion of an inexplicable suicide, was malicious good fun. however Morrison's story is not simply a skin-deep bit of vicious mockery: he criticizes superficial cynicism and defiant self-absorption to not just score points off of easy targets, but to mourn the loss of depth and genuine emotion that comes from living in a pop culture world with no stakes besides enjoying the latest entertainments. his story is ably abetted by Ben Oliver's soft-focus, at times photo-realistic art and especially a cover which looks like it was torn right off of People or Us magazine. the ending - which leaves us with an army of sinister robots about to deliver mayhem and slaughter to the most exclusive of superhero parties - is evil perfection....more
and off the whole family goes to the seaside village of Pallahaxi! it's vacation time! or is it? the dead planet Rax looms in the sky, drawing nigh.
Cand off the whole family goes to the seaside village of Pallahaxi! it's vacation time! or is it? the dead planet Rax looms in the sky, drawing nigh.
Coney plays with multiple tones in this elegiac coming of age tale: heartfelt and hopeful for the charming young lovers finding their way; angry and cynical for the increasing understanding that many adults are untrustworthy assholes and the world is full of broken governmental systems; fateful and eerie when hinting at what may come next for this steam age world. multiple tones but they're all mixed up together, just like life.
this is a classic novel of science fiction. the author has a brisk but careful style and his themes are timeless. the characters are real, imperfect and often quite moving. plus they're all aliens!...more
What to say, what to say? Hard to put down all the feelings. To put it simply: you did everything right. The char
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Dear I Capture the Castle,
What to say, what to say? Hard to put down all the feelings. To put it simply: you did everything right. The characterization like flowers slowly blooming. The story like seasons changing, invisibly but inevitably. The romance made both heartfelt and utterly, often infuriatingly real. The details, oh the details! I was put right into this world and right into Cassandra's head. And the charm! You are such a charming book - so amusing and so sweet-tempered yet with a certain saltiness as well, and a sharp tang. Head in the clouds; feet firmly planted on earth. You are a love letter to the past and to writing and to what makes a home and to young people with all of their future ahead of them and older people who have all of their future ahead of them. You are a love letter to love! I fell in love with you in turn. I would change nothing about you.
NO THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A "YOUNG ADULT" BOOK! IT IS A BOOK ABOUT YOUNG ADULTS. SOMETIMES THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.
NO THIS BOOK IS NOT LIKE "POND SCUM" AND USING THAT DESCRIPTION FOR IT SAYS MORE ABOUT YOU THAN IT DOES ABOUT THE BOOK.
NO THE FATHER IS NEITHER SEXIST NOR ABUSIVE FOR CHRISSAKES.
YES ALL OF THE NUMEROUS AND OFTEN QUIRKY DETAILS ARE THERE FOR A REASON. THEY ARE THERE TO PUT THE READER IN CASSANDRA'S MIND AND INTO THE WORLD OF THE BOOK. I'M SORRY YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT. PLEASE STOP READING BOOKS LIKE THIS.
It is so very nice that we have this book in common! I congratulate us on our mutual good taste! Our ability to enter into a new world and experience new things and new people with patience and an open heart are all hallmarks of our exquisitely nuanced, tender, and subtle sensibilities, as well as our sublime and near-saintly powers of empathy! People like us are, as they say, "Simply The Best"! Now let's have a nice cup of tea together, shall we?
"O youth! The strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it! To me she was not an old rattletrap carting about the world a lot of coal for
"O youth! The strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it! To me she was not an old rattletrap carting about the world a lot of coal for a freight - to me she was the endeavour, the test, the trial of life. I think of her with pleasure, with affection, with regret - as you would think of someone dead you have loved. I shall never forget her... Pass the bottle."
"Youth" is a great gateway drug into the heady world of Joseph Conrad. this compact little story about a young man (Marlow from Conrad's Heart of Darkness) and his commission on an ill-fated ship named the Judea made me eager to read more by this intriguing, controversial author. his descriptive prowess is highly impressive: the story is filled with so many little details, enough to put the reader right on that ship, but not so much that the story felt weighed down. this story is richly textured with all of those details, and brief and surprising moments of philosophizing, and the ongoing, rather yearning depiction of how it feels to be a young man on an adventure - and confident of many more adventures to come. all told as a story coming from an older, wiser, altogether more cynical and salty version of that young man... but an old man who still loves that part of his life - and even more, respects it, naivete and all. this could have been a tragic tale if it had been told in a certain way. but at the end of the story, I felt refreshed and invigorated.
"One was a man, and the other was either more - or less. However, they are both dead and Mrs. Beard is dead, and youth, strength, genius, thoughts, achievements, simple hearts - all dies... No matter."
there was one part that genuinely disturbed me, occurring after yet another disaster on the ship, and after the crew has rallied successfully:
"No; it was something in them, something inborn and subtle and everlasting. I don't say positively that the crew of a French or German merchantman wouldn't have done it, but I doubt whether it would have been done in the same way. There was a completeness in it, something solid like a principle, and masterful like an instinct - a disclosure of something secret - of that hidden something, that gift of good or evil that makes racial difference, that shapes the fate of nations.
I didn't know what to make of that so I decided to consult the experts.
Harold Bloom from Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness: "The sailors' very Englishness, a force beyond their understanding or control, makes them act nobly in an emergency. Yet here Marlow's belief in the existence of a 'hidden something' does not amount to any sort of racial theory of history. The uneven distribution of character appears to him as an inexplicable secret, and it just so happens that the English have more of it than other people. Marlow's pride in his Englishness does not lead him to pronounce race a 'key to history'; even he feels threatened by the biological definition of national character..."
Frances Singh from Postcolonial Whiteness: "At the same time, he hints at an idea which transcends this narrow racist point of view. Conrad also writes that it is service at sea that brings out the 'right stuff' in men. In the final analysis, then, Conrad seems to be suggesting that the highest race one can belong to is not the English race but the transnational, miscegenated Sailor Race, which men belong to after a period of perilous training and collaborative service. It is a race whose highest moral principle is that all must pull together for the common good."
Michael North from The Dialect of Modernism: "But Conrad wants his crews to manifest that phatic communion that exists far below the level of discourse, that comes from national and racial commonality, and so he makes them all... more English than they were."
Peter Edgerly Firchow from Envisioning Africa: "At the same time it must be remembered to his [Conrad's] credit that he consistently mocked notions of white superiority in his fiction, in both its Pacific and its African settings. Where Conrad was demonstrably racist (in the older, more inclusive sense of the word race) is in his belief in the superiority or inferiority of the European "races" or nations in relation to each other -" (boldface is mine)
personally, I'm most inclined to agree with Peter Firchow's interpretation. particularly because, on the one hand, the European captain of another ship is portrayed as absurd and offensive - specifically to Englishmen. and on the other hand, I did not notice a whiff of racism or condescension in Conrad's descriptions of the Malay reacting to the foundering Judea or the Javanese reacting to the crew that has finally reached their shores, bereft of ship.
The "Basic Eight" are a group of teenage friends. Flannery Culp is our neurotic narrator. The novel is about love and murder and friendship in high scThe "Basic Eight" are a group of teenage friends. Flannery Culp is our neurotic narrator. The novel is about love and murder and friendship in high school. This review of THE BASIC EIGHT features my very own Basic Eight from Los Alamitos, Orange County.
Photos circa 1988.
KEY WORDS:
REALISTIC ☻ PRIVILEGE ☻ SARCASM ☻ SAN FRANCISCO UNREALISTIC ☻ PRETENSION ☻ FRIENDSHIP
On a technical level the novel is somewhat impressive, given that it is a first novel from a novice author. I enjoyed the dark, intelligent humor because I gravitate towards darkness and intelligence when it comes to my entertainment. I particularly enjoyed the character of Natasha. She’s the sort of chick I also gravitate towards. Overall the novel felt somewhat realistic to me because I engaged in many ‘Basic Eight’ activities during high school such as talks about The Arts while listening to classical music over a sophisticated dinner. Unfortunately, I was a +1 to that group of adjunct friends; my own Basic Eight mainly indulged in binge drinking on our parents’ various boats. Sigh.
I grew up to be a Website Developer. I make more money than you can even imagine.
OH MY GOD THIS BOOK MADE ME LAUGH!!! SO FUNNY! IT WAS FUNNY BUT WITH A SAD AND SORTA DESPERATE CORE TO IT, JUST LIKE ME! HAHAHAHAHA! I’M NOT SURE I UNDERSTOOD EVERYTHING BUT I LIKED WHAT I UNDERSTOOD! HA! OK I’M JUST KIDDING, I UNDERSTOOD EVERYTHING BUT SOMETIMES I PRETEND NOT TO UNDERSTAND THINGS BECAUSE, WELL, I DON’T KNOW WHY! JUST BECAUSE! ANYWAY, GOOD BOOK!
I GREW UP TO BE A SCHOOLTEACHER! AND A MOTHER! TO A WHOLE LOTTA RUGRATS! PLUS I FELL OFF OF A WATERFALL AND SURVIVED!
Wow, reading this book was like reading my life story, well, not my whole life story and not the whole book either. Just the part about the gay kid, that really spoke to me, I understood where he was coming from and I admired his courage in coming to terms with it so young. But honestly, a lot of the book annoyed me, it wasn’t “laugh-out loud” funny, it was more of the sarcastic sort of humor that Marcy & Mark like so much and I think that kind of humor gets boring after a while, just the same sarcastic tone of voice over and over again, constant sarcasm which is really just being mean disguised as being funny. So I loved the gay character and I loved some of the girls, they were fierce... but I can’t say I loved the book too much.
So after graduating I went on various Christian missions around the world until I came to terms with being gay. Getting it on with another closeted Christian missionary can be an eye-opening experience. Now I’m married, to a man. Life is good!
I have to admit that I didn’t understand many of the references in this book. Also the author mixed up Oprah and Dr. Phil and that didn't make sense. And one other thing really confused and bothered me: this is set in San Francisco? And a schoolteacher – in San Francisco – had his house burned down because he was gay? Okaaaaay. Well that would never happen. I love fantasy but I don’t love things that are set in the actual real world that don’t bother to get their facts straight. Facts are important.
I grew up to be a Senior Accountant for Pacific Gas & Electric.
The girls in this book sucked! So neurotic. Why complicate your life with so much bullshit? Sometimes I just wanted to slap them all, they were so fucking pretentious. FUCK THAT ATTITUDE. Why couldn’t they just get drunk and relax, have a regular high school experience, why be such snobs, what’s the fun in that? BORING. A boring book about boring, angsty teenagers who don’t realize that they live lives of complete privilege. And goddamnit, they should be enjoying that privilege! Kids like that should be having a good time and getting drunk on boats, not hosting boring dinner parties and whining to each other all the time about their boring lives. STUPID. Only a liberal with too much time on their hands would write something like this.
I agree with Craig: these were some whiny, pretentious types who loved talking about themselves. Real twits - the sort of people that Jeff & Bill & Mark snuck off to hang out with because I guess they were just too cool for getting drunk on boats with the rest of us every weekend. What kind of teenager wants to talk about classical music, what kind of teenager prefers theatre to sports? The lame kind. But I will give it this: it has the sarcastic, nihilistic humor down pat. I loved that. I also enjoyed how it took sexual harassment seriously and I really, really enjoyed the comeuppance that one teacher experienced. I hope that scumbag stays in a coma for the rest of his life. I also didn’t mind that Adam State was beaten to death with a crochet mallet. Some guys deserve that. He was one of them.
I moved to Alaska and became an Assistant District Attorney. Later, I had a change of heart and became an Assistant Public Advocate. From one side of the courtroom to the other. Funny how life turns out.
Eh. The book was self-indulgent. It was entertaining, but by the end all of the characters annoyed me. Although I did laugh a lot. It didn’t make me think, but it did make me laugh. And laughing is good. Right? I dunno. Whatever.
I grew up to be a Physical Therapist. And a Jazz Musician.
I quite liked this one. It was a breeze to read and I liked the mind games it played on the reader – although the tricks it played were predictable, they were amusing tricks all the same. The author perfectly conveys a certain kind of voice – sarcastic, highly intelligent, mordantly funny, angsty, insecure. Flannery Culp is a striking and surprisingly loveable creation. The book started off fun and the fun only increased as the narrative darkened. Overall: smart, lightweight entertainment. One caveat: absinthe = acid? Really? No. I've tried both many times when much younger. Very different effects. Come on, Handler.
Anyway, I grew up to be a Goodreads Troll.
(view spoiler)[I’m pretty annoyed with a lot of the Goodreads reviews of this book. Some people need to understand that KIDS LIKE THIS DO EXIST. For real, people, they truly do. Just because their lives are foreign to your own personal experience, it does not mean that those lives aren’t possible. Your teenage years are not everyone’s teenage years. I mean really, duh, get your heads out of your asses. My friend Greg’s review was particularly condescending in how it posited that Daniel Handler was probably an outcast in high school – and so the kids in this book live lives that the author wished he had been able to live. It is all basically Handler's fantasy of an enjoyable high school experience, one where the outsider has a clique of intellectual friends and is finally able to get back at those who supposedly spurned them... when in reality he was probably just a lonely, friendless little loser. UGH, GREG, UGH! I think that since Greg was apparently a jock in high school, it is hard for him to imagine that people who weren’t like him and his friends could ever have Basic Eight-type times in high school. That they could have even enjoyed high school at all – people who weren’t like him and his friends must have been completely miserable, right? Unfortunately that is a common jocko misperception – I remember coming across that attitude in high school. I sneered at the arrogant cluelessness of that attitude while drinking on boats with my own Basic Eight. I also sneeringly recounted the cluelessness of such attitudes over many a sophisticated dinner, in between discussing the theatre and other arts, while listening to classical music, all with my Adjunct Eight, where I was a +1. (hide spoiler)]
☻
Look at us all together: my Basic Eight, my Adjunct Eight, plus some models and some jocks and a duck. But no cheerleaders! Not allowed.
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