Booklog 2007: Week 7
Feb. 20th, 2007 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofoneWeek 7: 12-18 February 2007
38. So Yesterday, Scott Westerfeld — Huh. This book has almost exactly the same plot as PopCo, which is odd, because I didn’t pick up either book because I was interested in the subject—secret societies banding together to sabotage large corporations and dilute the evil brainwashing of marketing campaigns—I was curious about the authors. Anyway, So Yesterday focuses on teenagers in New York as opposed to twentysomethings in England, and it’s about shoes (specifically Nike, although it’s always referred to as ‘The Client’) rather than toys. And really, it works its subject better than PopCo did, because it’s much more focused (and doesn’t do so much info dumping at the end). Westerfeld is really good at creating interesting characters and putting them in exciting situations, and this works very well as a one-off.
39. Peeps, Scott Westerfeld — I seem to have gone on a bit of a Westerfeld binge here. This one’s an interesting reinvention of the vampire myth—vampirism is a sexually transmitted parasite, an idea that Westerfeld explores fully, and often with great creativity and zest. (You know how that bit about vamps—sorry, peeps—being afraid of crosses came about? One of the parasite’s adaptations is to attack the brain and make you hate everything you used to love, so infected people won’t just hang around noshing on their neighbors and get killed by the mob with torches and pitchforks right away. The aversion to sunlight is a similar deal.) The sexual frustration of Cal—the parasite positive but rare resistant peep hunter—is quite amusing, and Westerfeld creates an excellent temptation for him in Lace, an NYU student whose dialogue—I swear to God—sounds like it could have come straight from Dean Winchester’s lips. (I’m not kind of painfully desperate for Dean-as-a-girl fic now. I’m not.) However, while the build up is a lot of fun and, with scenes like the one set in a boarded-up underground swimming pool (brr!), often really creepy and intense, by the end the book takes a turn for the ridiculous. There are giant worms. Giant worms, people. It’s like Buffy meets Tremors, and so far, not in a good way.
Maybe the concept improves in the sequel, and since I already checked it out from the library, I may read it and see.
40. A Madman Dreams of Turing Machines, Janna Levin — This is a novel, written by a physicist, about two early 20th century mathematicians, Kurt Gödel—most famous for his incompleteness theorems—and Alan Turing—best known for his World War II cryptology work and for the Turing Test. Both Gödel and Turing led fascinating and tragic lives, and Levin seizes on some of the interesting parallels between them (they never actually met—they kept just missing each other). Levin presents the main instances from their lives in a highly compelling way, and with a sort of dreamy madness, fitting to both men (Gödel went insane; Turing never really excelled at the basics of human interaction and was thought to have maybe been a high-functioning autistic). The stories themselves have a lot of power, with Gödel starving himself to death and Turing being basically tortured by his own government—even though he was a war hero!—because he was gay; he finally poisoned himself with a cyanide-laced apple. However, Levin never really draws any larger conclusion or brings the two threads of the story together in any way. She herself is something of a third shadow character in the story, and she says that she doesn’t know how to start or end the tale without being a liar—a sentiment I relate to, especially when I try to construct in my head ways to do a Muybridge novel, for example. But while I recognize that real life—that truth—doesn’t always make for the most satisfying narratives…well, this is a novel, and one in which other creative licenses are taken (Levin lists the major ones at the back of the book), and I can’t help but wish for it to be more satisfying. More cohesive. It’s still a fascinating, well-written book, but I think it would have made a better nonfiction work.
41. Dearly Devoted Dexter, Jeff Lindsay — Oh, why do I do these things to myself? I knew from reading Darkly Dreaming Dexter last November that I really preferred the TV show to the books, but curiosity won out and I read the second novel anyway. Big mistake. While Dearly Devoted is actually in many ways a better book than Darkly Dreaming—it’s way less rushed, for one, and funnier—it is so deeply disturbing that I’m still feeling freaked out several days after finishing it. And not in a fun way. The show, yes, is also disturbing—but it’s an interesting disturbing. What makes Dexter the way he is and the ways in which he interacts with other people are fully explored—interesting questions are raised, and there is emotional development, even if it’s in Dexter-appropriate tiny, stunted, sick amounts. The books, though…they’re disturbing to no purpose. All the characters besides Dexter are cardboard-thin, which may be in part due to the limits of the books’ first person POV, but is especially frustrating if you’ve watched the show and are used to the rounder versions. And the violence is excessive and meaningless: people are reduced to meat. Maybe that’s the point—our little peek into how people like Dexter see the world—but if so, that would be interesting once. As part of a series, where things would (I would hope) change and develop, it’s just gratuitous slaughter, and it made me feel icky. I’m still eagerly awaiting the start of the show’s 2nd series, but I don’t think I’ll be reading the third book.
42. Specials, Scott Westerfeld — This disappointed me so much. I really loved Uglies and there was a lot to admire about Pretties, but I found this to be a highly unsatisfactory conclusion. I’m still trying to figure out why it so completely failed to work for me. I think mostly it’s a case of character development: Tally goes through a lot of mental and emotional changes in these books, which makes sense, because her brain is being fucked with. In the first two books, Westerfeld took the time to explore these transitions, and Tally’s growth was really interesting. However, by the time we get to book three and Tally’s brain has been reset AGAIN, it’s becoming frustrating and it doesn’t help that in this final book Westerfeld doesn’t take the time to explore what’s really going on with her. Add to that Shay’s many reversals—I kept expecting it to be revealed that she’s totally PSYCHOTIC, but apparently not—Zane’s quick dismissal, and the almost complete absence of David (after he was also barely in the last book) and you can’t help being disappointed with the conclusion to these characters’ stories, because they barely seem like the characters you started out with and that Westerfeld made you care about. Also, the dissolution of Dr. Cable’s system seemed waaaaay too easy, so I didn’t find this satisfying on a plot level, either. Sigh. Well, I guess I’ll just have to remind myself that 1) I really liked the first book and 2) the next two were nowhere near as bad as, say, the Matrix sequels.
43. Troll: A Love Story, Johanna Sinisalo — A Finnish book, which is not something I ordinarily get to say. This novel was flawed, but overall I really loved it. It takes place in an alternate universe where trolls were discovered to be a real, living species in the early part of the 20th century. Mikael, a photographer, finds a troll cub who’s somehow stumbled into the city, and takes him in. Their relationship is…not something I can easily describe, but it’s more than a little disturbing, oddly alluring, and completely captivating. The narrative—especially the dénouement—is a little rushed, but it was successful in that it left me wanting more but not frustrated with the conclusion. Even the rapidly shifting POV, not something I usually enjoy, worked for me here. According to her bio, Sinisalo has written many other books, but unfortunately this seems to be the only one (besides a short story anthology to which she contributed) that’s been translated into English. How frustrating, because I’d really like to read more of her work. Still, I’m glad I got to read this, and if you can find it—I had to track it down through intramural library loans—I heartily recommend it. It’s unusual and seductive and creepy. One of my favorite combinations!
Total Books: 43
38. So Yesterday, Scott Westerfeld — Huh. This book has almost exactly the same plot as PopCo, which is odd, because I didn’t pick up either book because I was interested in the subject—secret societies banding together to sabotage large corporations and dilute the evil brainwashing of marketing campaigns—I was curious about the authors. Anyway, So Yesterday focuses on teenagers in New York as opposed to twentysomethings in England, and it’s about shoes (specifically Nike, although it’s always referred to as ‘The Client’) rather than toys. And really, it works its subject better than PopCo did, because it’s much more focused (and doesn’t do so much info dumping at the end). Westerfeld is really good at creating interesting characters and putting them in exciting situations, and this works very well as a one-off.
39. Peeps, Scott Westerfeld — I seem to have gone on a bit of a Westerfeld binge here. This one’s an interesting reinvention of the vampire myth—vampirism is a sexually transmitted parasite, an idea that Westerfeld explores fully, and often with great creativity and zest. (You know how that bit about vamps—sorry, peeps—being afraid of crosses came about? One of the parasite’s adaptations is to attack the brain and make you hate everything you used to love, so infected people won’t just hang around noshing on their neighbors and get killed by the mob with torches and pitchforks right away. The aversion to sunlight is a similar deal.) The sexual frustration of Cal—the parasite positive but rare resistant peep hunter—is quite amusing, and Westerfeld creates an excellent temptation for him in Lace, an NYU student whose dialogue—I swear to God—sounds like it could have come straight from Dean Winchester’s lips. (I’m not kind of painfully desperate for Dean-as-a-girl fic now. I’m not.) However, while the build up is a lot of fun and, with scenes like the one set in a boarded-up underground swimming pool (brr!), often really creepy and intense, by the end the book takes a turn for the ridiculous. There are giant worms. Giant worms, people. It’s like Buffy meets Tremors, and so far, not in a good way.
Maybe the concept improves in the sequel, and since I already checked it out from the library, I may read it and see.
40. A Madman Dreams of Turing Machines, Janna Levin — This is a novel, written by a physicist, about two early 20th century mathematicians, Kurt Gödel—most famous for his incompleteness theorems—and Alan Turing—best known for his World War II cryptology work and for the Turing Test. Both Gödel and Turing led fascinating and tragic lives, and Levin seizes on some of the interesting parallels between them (they never actually met—they kept just missing each other). Levin presents the main instances from their lives in a highly compelling way, and with a sort of dreamy madness, fitting to both men (Gödel went insane; Turing never really excelled at the basics of human interaction and was thought to have maybe been a high-functioning autistic). The stories themselves have a lot of power, with Gödel starving himself to death and Turing being basically tortured by his own government—even though he was a war hero!—because he was gay; he finally poisoned himself with a cyanide-laced apple. However, Levin never really draws any larger conclusion or brings the two threads of the story together in any way. She herself is something of a third shadow character in the story, and she says that she doesn’t know how to start or end the tale without being a liar—a sentiment I relate to, especially when I try to construct in my head ways to do a Muybridge novel, for example. But while I recognize that real life—that truth—doesn’t always make for the most satisfying narratives…well, this is a novel, and one in which other creative licenses are taken (Levin lists the major ones at the back of the book), and I can’t help but wish for it to be more satisfying. More cohesive. It’s still a fascinating, well-written book, but I think it would have made a better nonfiction work.
41. Dearly Devoted Dexter, Jeff Lindsay — Oh, why do I do these things to myself? I knew from reading Darkly Dreaming Dexter last November that I really preferred the TV show to the books, but curiosity won out and I read the second novel anyway. Big mistake. While Dearly Devoted is actually in many ways a better book than Darkly Dreaming—it’s way less rushed, for one, and funnier—it is so deeply disturbing that I’m still feeling freaked out several days after finishing it. And not in a fun way. The show, yes, is also disturbing—but it’s an interesting disturbing. What makes Dexter the way he is and the ways in which he interacts with other people are fully explored—interesting questions are raised, and there is emotional development, even if it’s in Dexter-appropriate tiny, stunted, sick amounts. The books, though…they’re disturbing to no purpose. All the characters besides Dexter are cardboard-thin, which may be in part due to the limits of the books’ first person POV, but is especially frustrating if you’ve watched the show and are used to the rounder versions. And the violence is excessive and meaningless: people are reduced to meat. Maybe that’s the point—our little peek into how people like Dexter see the world—but if so, that would be interesting once. As part of a series, where things would (I would hope) change and develop, it’s just gratuitous slaughter, and it made me feel icky. I’m still eagerly awaiting the start of the show’s 2nd series, but I don’t think I’ll be reading the third book.
42. Specials, Scott Westerfeld — This disappointed me so much. I really loved Uglies and there was a lot to admire about Pretties, but I found this to be a highly unsatisfactory conclusion. I’m still trying to figure out why it so completely failed to work for me. I think mostly it’s a case of character development: Tally goes through a lot of mental and emotional changes in these books, which makes sense, because her brain is being fucked with. In the first two books, Westerfeld took the time to explore these transitions, and Tally’s growth was really interesting. However, by the time we get to book three and Tally’s brain has been reset AGAIN, it’s becoming frustrating and it doesn’t help that in this final book Westerfeld doesn’t take the time to explore what’s really going on with her. Add to that Shay’s many reversals—I kept expecting it to be revealed that she’s totally PSYCHOTIC, but apparently not—Zane’s quick dismissal, and the almost complete absence of David (after he was also barely in the last book) and you can’t help being disappointed with the conclusion to these characters’ stories, because they barely seem like the characters you started out with and that Westerfeld made you care about. Also, the dissolution of Dr. Cable’s system seemed waaaaay too easy, so I didn’t find this satisfying on a plot level, either. Sigh. Well, I guess I’ll just have to remind myself that 1) I really liked the first book and 2) the next two were nowhere near as bad as, say, the Matrix sequels.
43. Troll: A Love Story, Johanna Sinisalo — A Finnish book, which is not something I ordinarily get to say. This novel was flawed, but overall I really loved it. It takes place in an alternate universe where trolls were discovered to be a real, living species in the early part of the 20th century. Mikael, a photographer, finds a troll cub who’s somehow stumbled into the city, and takes him in. Their relationship is…not something I can easily describe, but it’s more than a little disturbing, oddly alluring, and completely captivating. The narrative—especially the dénouement—is a little rushed, but it was successful in that it left me wanting more but not frustrated with the conclusion. Even the rapidly shifting POV, not something I usually enjoy, worked for me here. According to her bio, Sinisalo has written many other books, but unfortunately this seems to be the only one (besides a short story anthology to which she contributed) that’s been translated into English. How frustrating, because I’d really like to read more of her work. Still, I’m glad I got to read this, and if you can find it—I had to track it down through intramural library loans—I heartily recommend it. It’s unusual and seductive and creepy. One of my favorite combinations!
Total Books: 43
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-20 07:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-20 09:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-20 10:39 pm (UTC)I did some googling and also Krohn's short story from the novel Pereat Mundus called The Son of Chimera (http://www.transcript-review.org/sub.cfm?lan=en&id=2434) is available in English. Apparently the whole novel is going to be published in the US some time next year. Also Sphinx or Robot (http://www.kaapeli.fi/krohn/sphinx/sisu/leena_krohn/sphinx_or_robot.leena_krohn/) is available online.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-21 12:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-21 11:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-21 05:02 am (UTC)How do you do it?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-21 11:15 pm (UTC)What did you think of Moby-Dick?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-22 04:43 am (UTC)Have you read it?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-21 01:44 pm (UTC)But not quite.
Yet.
And I'm wanting to read Troll, too; I read a review some time back in the FT and have been waiting not terribly patiently for it to turn up in the US.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-21 11:18 pm (UTC)I have really no familiarity with Finnish literature outside of what I just read. What else has been popping into your sphere of consciousness?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-22 03:11 am (UTC)Financial Times -- sorry. I suffer badly from the BHOAEOUAAAIE.
(bad habit of american economists of using abbreviations and acronyms in everything. :)