This book was so much and more. Other than kind of meandering toward the end, it was a near perfect read for me. Stunning, beautiful and so amazing toThis book was so much and more. Other than kind of meandering toward the end, it was a near perfect read for me. Stunning, beautiful and so amazing to read. I highly recommend this book to other readers. ...more
Rather like the meme, which Dawkins so helpfully coined the term for, this book has permeated through many parts of our culture. And Dawkins hi [image]
Rather like the meme, which Dawkins so helpfully coined the term for, this book has permeated through many parts of our culture. And Dawkins himself has become synonymous with the Atheist movement. How else does a book garner more than 10 books published simply to refute it.
The first half of The God Delusion is a thoughtful, fact based response to religion, one that I thoroughly enjoyed. The second half tended to veer away from science based theory to more personal opinions of Dawkin's and this was a mixed bag for me.
The God Delusion is about raising the consciousness of people to the possibilities of atheism and the many follies of religion. Of the attributes of atheism, Dawkins has me hook, line and sinker. Of the follies of religion, I am less convinced. (Not to say that there aren't follies in religion, but I'm less concerned about them than Dawkins is.)
I was, for a long time, both a fundamentalist Christian and a young-earth Creationist. And I asked myself many times if this book would have reached me, had I read it back then. There's no way to test my conviction that the book probably wouldn't have changed my mind. I can only say what did.
I wanted to go from purely fact-based, research-focused books, perhaps because I already had a sense that what I was being told would be skewed. I had that sense, I believe, because I was lucky enough to be connected to more intelligent people who were not afraid to speak the truth. But they were also kind about it. I remember reaching out to Manny at one point to ask his opinion on the matter. He was very polite and thoughtful in his response and it, in turn, made me think and raise my consciousness.
So the question of whether this book would have converted me goes somewhat unanswered. I say somewhat because, obviously, I didn't read this book. I made a conscious choice not to, at the time, due to Dawkin's reputation as being antagonistic towards religion. While I can say that the book is far more moderate than I expected, it certainly doesn't pull any punches.
And maybe this comes to my final point which is Dawkin's inability to comprehend why discussing religion requires one to pull some punches. (As a point, I'm not saying be super nice to religious people, or hide your opinions.) He complains in the book why religion is treated differently by society than, say politics or sports.
I can see why it is. Because leaving one's religion, seeing the truth and learning to change your worldview from everything you've ever known is an intensely painful, difficult thing to do - especially if you have been fundamentalist. There were nights I cried and was distraught. Nights I thought I was losing my mind. I clearly remember the confusion of trying to relearn the world. Remember, this is something I inflicted on myself, and it was confronting enough. Nobody was putting facts in my faces or forcing me to see the truth.
So I respect Dawkins and the amazing work he's done, even if I don't agree with all of his opinions or all the ways he expresses himself. But maybe this book would have been even better if, like the first half, it had stuck to studies and research and veered less into gloves-off territory.
Kristoff has said, many times, that he doesn’t believe in happy endings. For the sake of all his readers, I once took him out for drinks and tried to Kristoff has said, many times, that he doesn’t believe in happy endings. For the sake of all his readers, I once took him out for drinks and tried to get him terribly drunk. The one flaw in my plan being that I am 5’8 and he is 7′monster. My intention was to discover his true plans for the Stormdancer trilogy, and his earnestness about causing angst and heartbreak to his readers.
Alas, good folks, I can only surmise that Kristoff truly believes in neither happy endings or sparing his readers pain. Kinslayer backs this up and more. It is a brilliantly written, emotionally-packed book. But I must warn you, it’s going to break your heart. Kristoff pulls no punches and spares no pain. Here is a visualization of my agony while reading.
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The only thing I can imagine harder than readers needing extreme therapy for the pain this book will cause, is coping with the multiple view shifts. Kinslayer has so many characters and interaction storylines that it’s easy to feel overwhelmed if you’re not used to tracking that much angst at once.
I just can’t help but feel like all my feelings have been used up. Kristoff is an evil bastard.
The writing is, of course, beautiful. Just stunning. I can’t even with this writing. I wish I could quote some of it for you, but the second I finished reading this book, everyone I know turned up at my house and flogged the ARC from me. I haven’t seen it since. No, really. They all worked out a reading schedule between them. I’m told that I won’t see it again until 2014.
Of course, predictably, the Yukiko and Buruu dynamic is magic – and it really needed to be. Because Yukiko has the hardest time ever, and I doubt she would have made it through without Buruu. And no matter what else happens in this series, no matter what else shapes it, the relationship that Buruu and Yukiko have seems to be foundational. Rather like Spock and Kirk.
In other news, Kin should die.
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And Michi is so badass. I mean, omg. I wasn’t sure I’d get a girl crush even harder than the ones I have for both Captain Corsair from the Iron Seas Trilogy and Veronica Rossi. But if Michi ever beckoned her finger at me, good lord I’d come running. Even if it was just so that she could murder the hell out of me.
As I went through my notes of reading this book, I notice how often I said things like, “OMG! They’re going to bone, aren’t they?” I don’t know what that either says about the novel or me. Maybe it just says that my love for this series is highly inappropriate but true and eternal.
If you haven’t read it yet – read it. READ IT NOW OR FACE MY WRATH!
Regardless of whatever else I say in this book – Such a Rush is a good book. Well-written, funny, smart, heart-touching. I devoured this book in a matRegardless of whatever else I say in this book – Such a Rush is a good book. Well-written, funny, smart, heart-touching. I devoured this book in a matter of hours. I ignored family on Christmas day to read it – which is okay, because they’re used to that.
But this doesn’t mean it was a perfect read. Leah was a brilliant but, other than Mr Hall’s brief appearance, she was the singularly likable character in this book. Smart, focused, complex, interesting – everything you want out of a main character except not a single other character in this book deserved to bask in her presence let alone be her friend or date her.
Ready to meet the grand poobah of douchebag love interests? You thought Daemon from Obsidian was bad? You thought Daniel Grigori or any other of those dudes was bad? In my opinion Grayson Hall would probably mop the floor with them. Daemon might have been rude, Daniel Grigori might have been a prick, but at least none of them assumed the main protagonist was a whore and blackmailed her into dating some other guy!
Grayson treats Leah despicably. Utterly, utterly despicably and her mercy for him and continued attraction to him was inexplicable to me. His concern with how much of a whore Leah was, was exceedingly frustrating. “I’m really attracted to you. It’s a shame I need to whore you out to my brother and that I’ve convinced myself you’re a filthy creature who has sex with anyone to get her way. Damn shame.” Don’t even get me started on her best friend, who I think I might have cheerfully taken out the back and slapped silly.
There is an annoyingly heavy focus on female purity, with the underlying text supporting the importance of not just the abstinence of sex – but the appearance of it too. This was misleading for me because the beginning of the novel didn’t seem like it would head this way. It was refreshingly free of the guilt-burden in relation to how young Leah lost her virginity. Some of the sexual elements were necessary to show the basic facets of Leah’s life. The rest of it was annoying in its persistence in punishing Leah for having a sex drive.
This novel, whilst I loved it, infuriated me. I was left yelling at the book – yelling at all the “rich kids” and their stupid faces and how they treated Leah again and again. How she always just let them off. The ending was also a little hodge podge and rushed.
Ultimately, though, it was a marvelously thrilling, lovable story. Prepare to want to hug and hold Leah, to bare your teeth at the world and want to try and make things right for her....more
There was a reason that Melina Marchetta launched this book. I think I can safely put up a big sign over Pip Harry’s name that says, “Watch This SpThere was a reason that Melina Marchetta launched this book. I think I can safely put up a big sign over Pip Harry’s name that says, “Watch This Space.”
And because Pip Harry is Australian – instead of being lauded as brilliant and fantasmazeballs, she just gets put in that neat little category of Great Australian Writers like Melina Marchetta, Kirsty Eagar, Markus Zusak, Garth Nix, Shirley Marr, Lucy Christopher and Laura Buzo. I’m sure at least a couple of them aren’t really Australian but we have a tendency of just claiming people as our own – so just go with it.
This was the story of socially awkward Goth girl, Kate, dealing with being kicked out of home, relating to a bunch of boarders and rectifying her home situation whilst dealing with her own crushing insecurities.
It’s about being fifteen and stupid, and lucky, and angry, and confused and frustrated.
What really spoke to me was the brash reality of Kate’s life. Things aren’t just glossed over or purified through a decency filter for the reader. This isn’t about teens hanging out in designer clothes and playing baseball with their parents on a Sunday afternoon. This is about a girl who drinks, who wants to have sex, who has an uncontrollable temper and a difficult personality. And since Harry embraces that truth and rawness of narration, she’s able to induce strong emotional moments between the characters of the novel.
My biggest concern was on the Goth thing. I was concerned that the book would be full of bad poetry and musings about the futileness of happiness. And in the interest of full disclosure, everything I learned about Goths came from Southpark.
[image] It's where I learn most things, to be honest.
But it turns out, like with most things, the label is just a window dressing for an otherwise normal girl dealing with otherwise normal teenage things. She just happens to be Goth while she’s doing it. And even though I still don’t know what that means, I learned a very valuable lesson… don’t piss off Goth people or your intestines will become their floss! Okay, maybe not the lesson you’re supposed to learn, but, whatever.
I enjoyed Pip Harry’s style of narration and the book flows well for the first three quarters. Right up until the last quarter I would have said it was a five star novel. In the last quarter, the narration really slips into denouement mode and becomes very telling and to be honest, both myself and the story weren’t quite ready for that. It’s like when you’re still colouring and your parent/teacher comes along and starts asking you to pack up and you’re like, “Hold it! I’m still going here! THE FOOT ISN’T FINISHED!”
There was still some story left to go but the edge had gone from the novel because we were in the nice, comforting wrap-up phase of storytelling.
If you’re a fan of Aussie novels, Melina Marchetta, heart-warming tales or good times, then I highly suggest you give this one a go.
This certainly is fun in that Randall's personal style comes through very strongly. But don't be fooled, folks. This book ain't all about Honey Badgers - though their badassery can't be denied - it contains a few other unique species. There are many, many photos as well as a run down on each unique little animal. And there are a few unique guys in here. Maybe because I'm all the way from Australia - but I was completely oblivious to this little bundle of cutosity:
[image] Pink Fairy Armadillo says, "Take me home! But only in your hearts... because I'm endangered so you should totes protect my environment. Just sayin'.
Yet this book isn't just about mocking animals and amusing ourselves with their weird-ass, crazy ways and looks. It's a conservation effort. Every animal mentioned in this book is endangered - most of them critically. A few of them I've scarcely ever heard of.
My one critique of an otherwise funny gag book would be that there were a couple of factual errors that annoyed me. Only, I can't be sure they were intentional for the use of humour, or earnest mistakes.
Otherwise, this is certainly an amusing read. Not that the Honey Badger cares whether I approve or not. Because, if I've learned anything, it's that Honey Badger's don't give a shit.
[image] Because I can't help myself when it comes to teh cute!"...more
**spoiler alert** Email To: Mr. & Mrs. Crisparkle Email from: Sedgewick Crisparkle
Dear mother and father,
How are you enjoying Christmas there at home i**spoiler alert** Email To: Mr. & Mrs. Crisparkle Email from: Sedgewick Crisparkle
Dear mother and father,
How are you enjoying Christmas there at home in sunny (ha!) England? Is father's vicarage going well? Look, to put it plainly, I understand that I have only recently confessed to you that I am a gay man and that you are coming to grips with this. Which is why I feel it is necessary to explain to you what happened to our precious family artifact as soon as possible. Our treasured, undiscovered Christmas book by Dickens truly was a proud heirloom in our family and an excellent tradition that we have upheld all this time. I'm so grateful it was bequeathed to me so that I could sell it in order to finance my lifelong dream.
However, a little while ago I met a man. Three days ago to be exact. We are in love. Now, I understand you might be concerned about the fact that he has an extraordinarily sordid history with artifacts and that he spent two of our precious three days together lying and scheming to get our book. However, he is a man of great character. I presume. I am positively hopeful that he actually did love me and is a good person on the inside despite his actions shown for the vast majority of our courtship.
He slept with me on the understanding that I would at least show him the book and thus, by my calculations, he would be willing to spend the rest of his life with me if I just give it to him. I see this as perfectly justifiable and I'm sure you will too once you actually meet him. I'm not sure when that will be since the future is currently hazy for us. We have yet to discuss any permanent plans past me giving him this priceless and irreplaceable artifact (and more sex but I don't think you're ready to hear about that) but I'm sure we'll work that out in a satisfactory matter. Once he comes back from getting us some milk. Does milk take a long time to retrieve in LA?
I'm sure nothing will happen to make me come to regret this decision.
McWhorter has written a comprehensible, entrancing overview of how language has developed, changed, morphed and been reinvented millions of times in hMcWhorter has written a comprehensible, entrancing overview of how language has developed, changed, morphed and been reinvented millions of times in human history.
Thanks to MrWhorter, I now know that what I speak and write isn't just English. I speak a dialect of Sydney English circa 2000.
What McWhorter achieves here is a fascinating journey through many, many languages (or regional dialects as McWhorter would have it) that span across the globe and time.
McWhorter is funny. Despite being a book aiming to impart knowledge, McWhorter's personality, flare and passion for the subject comes across very strongly.
Mostly the book is accessible to the layman. Occasionally McWhorter would get ahead of himself and assume a knowledge base of his audience that this little reader didn't have. But for the most part, he translates his knowledge very well across the medium of the written word.
Which, may I add, he seems to dislike. It is the only thing I would challenge him (since I'm not educated enough in linguistics to argue effectively on anything else). He views reading and writing as a barrier to language's natural development. With the introduction of the written word, McWhorter claims, English, Chinese, Japanese etc have been developing far more slowly than what they would if they were "wild" and that they've changed to reflect their written versions more than their spoken versions.
Whilst I certainly understand a linguist's frustration with this - I think literacy is a valid progression to language. Sure, it is a new and (compared to the long history of spoken language) untried version of language but no less valid than any other dialect of English.
Which reminds me that McWhorter's arguments mean that I can no longer deny the friend requests of people who rite liek dis cos thier kool.
Stuff White People Like may be misleading to some because, from the title, they'll expect this book to be about stuff that white people like.
[image] VStuff White People Like may be misleading to some because, from the title, they'll expect this book to be about stuff that white people like.
[image] Various white demographics weren't hurt in the making of this book.
This is not necessarily the fact. In Lander's own words (pulled indiscreetly from wikipedia), this book is "rather a stereotype of affluent, environmentally and socially conscious, anti-corporate white North Americans, who typically hold a degree in the liberal arts."
In other words: Hipsters.
And we all know that hipsters aren't technically people.
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There are really only four responses that a white person could have to this book:
1. This book is so racist. I don't get my free-trade, tall, double venti, nonfat, soy-frappacino extra hot from my local coffee shop while I read poetry because I'm WHITE but because it makes me a better person (than you!) 2. Yeah, I kind of do some of this stuff. Sorry! I don't mean to be so white! I guess society has just impacted me that way until I subconsciously strive to be whiter through diversification. 3. This book is fantastic! I'm SOOOOO white! You never met someone as white as me! I do pretty much EVERYTHING in this book! It's hilarious! This one time, I was being white, at band camp... 4. Mavis! Gone get me my boomstick!
Stuff White People Like is part of an internet trend by popular blogs/websites in writing books based on some of the older content and integrating newer content. This tidbit will be especially useful to hipsters because they can go back and pretend that they followed the blog (before it became so popular and sold-out).
Like most books based on a gimmick, it gets very tiring. I read a good two-thirds of this book and fell asleep. While I was napping, a continuous stream of, "White people are happiest when girbersnooberwhacking together. This makes them feel superior to other people who don't know as much about girbersnooberwhacking. A way to exploit this is to read the first paragraph of the hypogrumpustootlebudge and insist your an expert on the details and that it is, indeed, superior and better for the environment."
When I still found that as interesting as the book, I realized that this book was just a little too long.
But if you look deeper, there is a poignant (I get extra white people points for using that word and for looking for a deeper meaning in a gimmick book) and eerily accurate portrayal of upper middle-class white culture - and not JUST hipsters.
My parents are NOT hipsters. My mother is hard-core Christian and my father is a right-wing (just not politically) professionally successful businessman. They are your upper middle class Australians living in a very nice, refurbished home in the middle of one of those desirable locales.
Yet they still fit a great deal of this book. They drove Priuses at the time that this book was published. They want to be more environmentally conscious, they have a nice house with a lot of cultural "focus points", they drink expensive wines and overseas liquors. They eat obscure cheese and they buy their vegetables, fruit and honey from the farmer's market and have their groceries delivered by Farmer's Direct. They go away to their holiday town and bring back lots of folksie oiled feta, quaint bottles of sundried tomatoes etc and high-quality cooking oils that they bought to support the small, local community. Then they are immensely proud of it all and boast about it while trying to appear not to boast about it.
In fact, the only white people who wouldn't find something kindred in these pages are the "wrong type of white people".
[image] Pictured: The Wrong Type of White People
I've heard the term "cultural currency" coined before and this book is all about that. How do you impress other white people, as long as they aren't the wrong type of white people? Well, actually, this book is a pretty good guide on how to do that. If you don't look hard at all, you can see it right here on GoodReads.
The ONLY reason I'm reading Madame Bovary is because:
a) It's got sex. b) It's a classic and I feel insecure for not having read more of these. c) Manny told me to.
The guy has a beard, he speaks several languages, reads books in those languages that I can't even effectively impersonate because I don't know enough about them and he's married to a lovely European woman. And that's only as much as I know about him! For all I know he could be drinking free-trade coffee right now and then I could be REALLY screwed. If his profile pic had an image of him wearing glasses then I'd be forced to elevate him to the status of White God. I have to give him the props because he has the cultural currency. He's out-whited me right from the start because it's PHYSCIALLY IMPOSSIBLE for me to grow a beard!
[image] Okay, technically not true but I don't want to go into that!
The one thing this book doesn't do is provide an answer to all of this other than to understand it well enough to exploit it. Unless I'm considering opening up a co-op market or a specialized barkery then I really don't see that as an option. Don't even start me on the beard option that we've already dismissed.
So what's the answer to our lives, white people? Do we keep reading the Madame Bovarys of this world, pretending to understand them (or hate them because we understand them better than all those fools who like them because they don't understand them ENOUGH?). Do we listen to obscure music, drink water out of twist-top metal bottles and sneer at those who buy bottled water? Do we do all this all the while ignoring the fact that maybe we don't even LIKE obscure music but not knowing why we get the satisfaction out of listening to it?
Should we all examine ourselves a little better to try to be a little more nonconformist? Actually that was a trick question because that would be useless since cultural currency is all about being different and nonconformist in a better way!
I strongly feel the answer lies in a trashy Paranormal Romance and so I'm off to go read that.
**spoiler alert** Reading this book was like having an echo of a conversation with my husband's grandfather. Dziadek could be Vladek's twin brother if**spoiler alert** Reading this book was like having an echo of a conversation with my husband's grandfather. Dziadek could be Vladek's twin brother if any of Vladek's poor family had survived the war.
This book's most horrifying moment came, for me, at the loss of their two year old son, Richeu. I tried to imagine a world where my decision to keep my son with me and hope for a better future, cost him his life and considered how I would live with that for the rest of my life.
I don't have the answer to that. All I know is that my son got away with a helluva lot more bad behaviour that day then he normally would.
I have no commentary to make on the war, the holocaust, the devestation or destruction because I have nothing intelligent or worthwhile to add other than the recognition that the crimes committed there were truly horrifying and disgusting.
Though I hardly want to consider the type of human being I would be if I didn't feel that way....more
Imagine for a moment that you were at an event, like the 1995 Rugby World cup where South Africa both hosted and won. Imagine being there in the heat Imagine for a moment that you were at an event, like the 1995 Rugby World cup where South Africa both hosted and won. Imagine being there in the heat of that moment - the cheer and ebulation. That light, almost unreal sense that the world has faded away and there is only that moment. Nothing else is important and you want to quietly capture the complete bliss you are experiencing and put it in a bottle somewhere. Hopefully at some future date you can take it out and rekindle those emotions and bask in that one, perfect moment again.
Then imagine that you are standing outside of a train station. A train has just crashed in front of you. Pleople are screaming, and the stench of smoking meat is tickling your nose as your eyes sting and water. There's that same feeling. That feeling of, "Is this really happening?" Light. Dizzy. Disbelief. Overwhelming to the point of nausea. You can't forget that moment. It will haunt you. Every time you catch a wiff of smoke those memories will come flooding back, whether you want them to or not.
Same feelings, at their most basic level, but entirely different in their mode. In the first situation you jump and holler. You'll hug those around you, even if you don't know them, and celebrate together. Knitted into temporary friendship because you're experiencing the same, awesome event. For weeks later you'll tell anybody who listens that you were there. You'll tell them about how incredible it was and try to impart on them some semblance of what you felt.
Cut back to the second scenario where you'll stand quietly in solidarity with those around you. Once again, knitted together. Brothers and sisters formed from tragedy. You may hold each other and gather around silently. When other people ask you about it, you'll get that look in your eyes that tells them you've seen things.
You're just as altered as the first scene, but where there was ebulation then, there is horror now.
This is what happens when I read certain books. Books like Stolen fit in the first category. They touch me and move me, so I run around telling everyone that I read it. It was amazing. Share in this experience with me. I want to help you feel what I felt.
Then there are books like this. Now I quietly tell you that I read it. That it touched me. Changed me. I look you in the eye and I don't want to elaborate. I quitely turn away and think a little bit more on what I've seen and read, and how it made me feel.
And maybe if you've read a book like this too, you might be able to understand why there's really nothing more for me to say.
I've read a lot of positive and negative reviews for this book. I can see why people wouldn't like it - I really can. Just to clarify: Yes, I did cry.
I've read a lot of positive and negative reviews for this book. I can see why people wouldn't like it - I really can. Perhaps because I took a lot out of it personally, I found I enjoyed it a lot.
Quick test to see if you'll like this book:
1. Did you like Anne of Green Gables? 2. Can you cope with an off-beat, melancholy, caustic, dead-pan, self-righteous narrator? 3. Do you like words? (Questions 4-8 were all about what kind of underwear you're wearing so don't worry about them).
So, let's all gather around for story time with Mistress Kat.
Two incidents set me off lately.
1. My neighbour came to me and complained about the Islanders (for those not Australian: the Tongan, Fiji, Papa New Guinea and New Zealand populations of Australia) causing trouble and otherwise defiling our great and beautiful nation. 2. I was tooling around on Facebook when I noticed one of my friends (one of those friends you’ve never met except in an internet community) hosting a link to a video of a speech from a man addressing the American people. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he is reminiscent of a neo-Hitler but let’s just say that the comparison would not be wholly unearned. Her comments on the video were that: everything he’d said was right, it was time that people sat up and listened for the sake of their country and that it’s about time “somebody did something”. (Fuck me, I’ve heard this phrase so many times. What is it exactly that they’re referring to? Do they actually know? I’ve yet to hear them pronounce what this “something” is or what it looks like. Is there some plan that I’m not aware of that they’re referring to? Does it involve chipmunks, honey and tequila?)
To my neighbour, I simply mumbled that I had to leave and got in my car. I was offended on behalf of my friends so I blew him off and I haven’t really spoken to him since. To my Facebook friend, I resisted the urge to make any comments. I debated about starting a fight that would, in all likelihood, spill over to our community. In the end I ignored her and I haven’t spoken to her since.
The Book Thief is not your typical WWII story. It doesn’t even ask you to sympathize with the Jews. Their plight is background to the story and their struggles and pains are rarely shown except through the pitiful/beautiful character of Max. This story actually focuses on the bad guys. Zusak assumes that you know about the struggle and the plight of the Jews. He assumes that you feel for them, that you are horrified on their behalf and so he doesn’t spend much time eliciting an emotion that you are expected to have.
Instead it focuses on the BAD guys. You get to know and live the lives of a small and poor town in Germany. The thing is, though, that these aren’t really the bad guys. Zusak, probably rightly, assumes that we’d never be able to really empathize and enjoy reading a book about characters truly bad. They’re not really bad. After all, they may be Germans and they may have escaped persecution and death, but they’re still poor. They’re the tiny fraction of the German population who sympathizes with the Jews. They harbour a Jewish man in their home and come to love him. The thing is though that for most of the novel, they’re not the good guys either. They don’t speak up for the Jewish people, they don’t try to change popular opinion, they don’t stand for what’s right. They quietly try to get by without causing waves and without risking much of themselves.
So you can see how I would sympathize. How could I think that I’m one of the “good guys” when I don’t stand up for people either? Shouldn’t I have challenged my neighbour and asked how he knew that the Islanders were to blame for all the crime? Shouldn’t I have asked him how many Islanders he knew? How he could make such assumptions about people? Shouldn’t I have challenged my facebook friend? Shouldn’t I have asked her why she’s spreading propaganda? Couldn’t I have probed her to think critically about this man’s claims, about facts and ethics?
No. I didn’t want to cause problems and I didn’t want to make waves.
The narrator of The Book Thief makes a claim that Hitler’s took over a country and started a war – not with guns or weapons but with words. I’ve read others consider this claim to be stupid and ridiculous but I actually agree with him.
When I was a child I asked my Great Aunt Nell why she insisted on engaging me in long and tedious hypothetical debates about morality, human nature, ethics and theology. Her response was always the same: if you don’t fill a child’s head with all the right stuff, someone will come along and fill it with all the wrong stuff. It’s kind of like those corny motivational quotes that the teachers post in their rooms: Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.
Well, I agree. When you don’t educate people, when you don’t teach them to think critically, with full understanding and proper knowledge, then other people come along and whisper in their ear and fill their heads up with mindless rot. Hitler told the German people how to think. He told them who was Wrong. Why they were Wrong. How to fix the Wrong. What was Right. Then he did the most powerful thing a person could do: he told them a story. When you tell a whole nation a story about the future – a gloriously bright future with Plenty and Joy; a future in which they are redeemed and have conquered their enemies; a future in which they are happy and Everything Is As It Should Be – and if you tell that story well enough, then you can conquer a country and wage a war without ever firing a single bullet.
Coincidently when you don’t speak up, when you don’t proclaim the truth, when you’re too afraid to replace ignorance with knowledge then you’re no better than an accomplice to a crime. I can’t imagine how my friends would feel if they’d known that I stood by and allowed them and their family and children to be slandered like that. Pretty appalled, I imagine – and rightfully so.
And now we come to the big reason why I think a lot of people didn’t like this book – the narrator.
The Hunger Games did a similar thing to The Book Thief. It sought to instil in its readers a sense of proper shame. However, as opposed to The Book Thief, you didn’t feel judged. After all, for the Sins that The Hunger Games was preaching of, we’re all guilty – and in our combined guilt there seems to be a lessening of accountability. Perhaps there’s a sense that we’re all going down together. When we’re damned, at least we’ll have good company, right? The Book Thief, however, singles you out as solely responsible. It strips you naked and looks down on you as it asks you to account of yourself. Not even the narrator can sympathize with you because he is the only one left blameless and innocent, looking upon us with a reserved kind of pity and bewilderment.
Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. I don’t mind being stripped down. I don’t mind being reprimanded and so I loved this book. I loved this book for inspiring me to be even more outlandishly outspoken and persistently and doggedly forthcoming on my opinions of these issues. I loved this book because I loved the narrator. I loved this book because I loved the story.
I loved this book because I now have the PERFECT excuse to start a helluva lot more fights.
For some reason, that thought makes me very happy.
The little dot that sits on top of the i is called a 'tittle'. I don't know how I went through my entire life without this piece of information but I'The little dot that sits on top of the i is called a 'tittle'. I don't know how I went through my entire life without this piece of information but I'm now planning to slip it into conversation somewhere.
Like this book could have been great but it's like the author wrote a perfect sentence and left out her tittles.
It's not that I actually had any expectations for this book. The title is Nice Girls Don't Have Fangs and it has a kind of trashy cover. I was really just impressed that it didn't stumble in the door, barf on me and shit on my doormat, to be honest.
It seems to be with Paranormal romance:
Good Characters Good writing Good plot
Pick two.
This book almost defeated that stereotype but fell short when the ending was way too obvious and the character of Gabriel annoyed me.
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Why be eternal if you're going to be an eternal pain in the ass?
Anyway, it wasn't a terrible book. Jenna was actually a funny, interesting character. She had a lot of great lines and she was by no means an idiot. The secondary characters were fun.
I was walking back from my playgroup with my son on Monday, I came out of an elevator to find a teenage boy waiting for me. Fear and an urge to protecI was walking back from my playgroup with my son on Monday, I came out of an elevator to find a teenage boy waiting for me. Fear and an urge to protect my son came over me as he looked a little "rough" around the edges.
Instead of pulling a knife or picking a fight though, the teenager turned on me with big, embarrassed, doe-eyes to ask in a quivering voice, "Excuse me, can I please have fifty cents to call my mum?" I fished out fifty cents worth of coins and left as soon as I saw him head towards the telephone, not waiting around to see if he got through to her. True story.
Unwind by Neal Shusterman is a novel about a world gone mad in which children between the ages of thirteen and eighteen can be legally signed over by their parents or guardians to be put through a harvest camp so that others can take their organs, tissue and blood.
Abortion is also illegal but people can leave infants on other people's doorstep as a method of "storking" and thus legally handing over their responsibilities of the child.
A common phrase used throughout this book is, "Someone else's problem." This encompasses the spirit of the book and is said often by adults who have had children fall temporarily into their hemisphere and require dealing with. There are very few adults in this book who do more than the bare minimum of what they have to do to sit right in their conscience and there's a whole bevy of others who don't do that much.
Connor, one of the trio of main protagonists and an indisputable Christ metaphor, is a "problem" child. His parents are at a loss as to how to handle his behavioral problems and his poor grades so they consign him to being unwound. Risa, a ward of the state, is a bed that the government can free up for a child that they can't legally unwind yet and so is also handed over to the harvesting camp. Levi, the last of the trio is a religious tithe by his parents - born and raised to serve God by handing him over to be tithed as part of their duty to the community and God.
There are many other such stories in this book from a boy whose loving parents died, leaving him an inheritance that his aunt feels would be better off putting her kids through college once he's been unwound and a boy whose divorcing parents couldn't agree on any custody solution and would rather, literally, divide him.
This whole book is about the powerlessness of children in the hands of those who should be responsible for them. It is at times nerve-wracking, heartbreaking, devastating and a complete adrenaline rush.
What it is most of all, though, is sad. Sad because the truth is that children are not the problem and they shouldn't be treated like a problem. They are a symptom at worst and a blessing always. They are a gift that requires attention. They are an innocent package and in the case of 99% of them - if they are running around the street as twelve year olds being a menace to society then they have not let us down - we have let them down.
I love this book because it is well written, I love this book because it is compelling. I love this book because sometimes it is a hard and challenging read on a personal level. I love this book because it asks you to think. I love this book for the many things it has revealed about me - most of them not positive. I love this book because it is well-written with absorbing characters and a great plot.
Most of all, I love this book because next time I come across a kid of the street asking for fifty cents to call his mum, I'll let him borrow my phone and make sure she's coming to get him....more
Stolen is such a singular reading experience that its difficult to decide how I feel about it.
Gemma is a sixteen year old English girl kidnapped by TyStolen is such a singular reading experience that its difficult to decide how I feel about it.
Gemma is a sixteen year old English girl kidnapped by Ty and taken into the Western Australian outback where she is held prisoner.
I had to give this book five stars for several reasons. One of the reasons is because it was so fantastically well written. Beautiful, touching, heart breaking and real. Christopher doesn't spare on the details both good and bad. Never before have I felt a book to be so real, so gritty and tangible.
This book is a journey into the world of Stockholm Syndrome and the craft of Christopher's skill left even me, feeling the effects of this baffling psychological problem.
The characters of Ty and Gemma are fantastic. At first I was frustrated with Gemma. I was so used to reading kick-ass female protagonists who could do anything that it was aggravating to be stuck with a sixteen year old who was incapable and terror stricken. Yet she gets to you. Her pain, her struggles. She's a real sixteen year old. This isn't some fantasy character that can do everything. Yet she has a sense of will and spirit. Perhaps her defining characteristic is the truth that she is willing to tell herself - completely and honestly.
Ty is also amazing as a character. He is equal parts scary, confused, angry, hostile, delusional. He is also beautiful, gentle, capable, intense and loving. He is such a mixed bag of all these things.
If you're looking for action and suspense in this book - you won't find it. Yet I personally found the strength of the characters and the outback itself was strong enough to carry this story without needing a great deal of edge-of-your-seat intensity. The mental intensity was enough for me.
Others may find this story boring but I found it touching and amazing. I highly recommend it....more
Kat Kennedy
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