The saga of the bloody booklog
Dec. 18th, 2009 05:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofone81. Drood, Dan Simmons — This book is almost 800 pages long. I knew after the first fifty, definitely after the first hundred, that I wasn’t enjoying it, but I kept reading because 1) I’m a stubborn bitch, 2) Dan Simmons has written good books in the past, and 3) I just felt like it had to get better, right? RIGHT?
Not so much. If you want to read a book about an unlikeable narrator—in this case, supposedly Wilkie Collins—bitch about his likewise unlikeable friend/rival/whatever—supposedly Charles Dickens—for 800 pages while some vaguely spooky stuff happens, none of which is scary or interesting enough to sustain the narrative—then this doorstop of a read is the book for you. If not, then don’t be like me—run! Run! Save yourselves!
82. The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson — I am often asked which of Larsson’s first two novels, this or The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, is better. My standard response is Tattoo, because nothing in Fire can match the wonder and pleasure of meeting Larsson’s characters, particularly Lisbeth Salander, for the first time. I stand by this answer, although it’s possible that the plot of Salander and Blomkvist’s second outing is even more exciting and suspenseful than the first. Both books are terrific reads, however, and they work wonderfully as a pair. Why should one have to choose?
The third—and last, as Larsson is sadly and prematurely deceased—book in the series doesn’t come out in America until next year, but I got it from the U.K. as soon as it became available. I haven’t started it yet, though—I’m afraid to. I don’t want this story to end.
83. The Walls of the Universe, Paul Melko — Sci-Fi novel in which the possession of a universe-hopping device is apparently just a prelude to lots of boring emo white dude angst. Yawn. This book was published this year, yet it feels like it’s stuck back in the 1960s or something. The two major “technological advances” that are most heavily dealt with are pinball and the Rubik’s cube—does anybody even use a computer? The internet? And, like I said, it’s boring, with one of the two versions of the protagonist spending most of his time worrying about making a living now that he’s stuck with a girl he knocked up—the same girl he knocks up in almost every universe. Okay, forget the internet—has anybody ever heard of CONDOMS?
Points for a very cool “Make my day”-type speech toward the end—delivered by one of the book’s few interesting female characters, no less! But one neat paragraph hardly makes the whole boring book worth reading.
84., 85., 87. & 90. The Saga of the Bloody Benders, The Beast of Chicago, A Treasury of Victorian Murder & The Case of Madeleine Smith, Rick Geary — Little graphic histories of 19th Century crime. Geary’s slightly off black and white art lends itself well to the material, and the stories themselves are grisly/fascinating, although the unsolved ones have the frustrating edge typical to true crime tales where the solution was never found. This is especially good reading if you are a Supernatural fan as several of the cases have been used in episodes of the show—"The Benders" and "No Exit." I like the latter episode a lot, but with both examples, reality is scarier, yo. Wait till you get to the part about the greasy, stained curtain.
86. The Actor and the Housewife, Shannon Hale — I put off writing this review for a really long time because I knew that no matter what I did, it was going to turn into My Thoughts On Mormonism, and nobody really cares about My Thoughts On Mormonism, nor is a book review really the place to discuss them. However, the Mormon faith has such a large role in this book that I can’t not address it, as it seriously influenced my enjoyment of the novel. So, inescapably: My Thoughts on Mormonism.
I have some problems with Mormonism. I don’t pretend to know or understand all the tenets of this religion, and mostly I would not care, except that the Church of Latter-Day Saints seems to have such strict rules regarding its members’ personal and social lives. I am really bothered by any faith that preaches that homosexuality is a sin, or that women must be subservient to their husbands. (I know that there are some more “mainstream” Christians who believe these things too, and I am equally bothered by that. However, that’s not what this book is about.) Reading a book that presents these attitudes as super-duper hunky dory makes me incredibly uncomfortable—almost as uncomfortable, I would wager, as a devout Mormon would find a book about the pleasures of gay sex interspersed with demon hunting (which to me would qualify as an awesome way to spend a Saturday night). I don’t have any problem with a book that’s all “yay, Mormonism!” existing (and perhaps that’s where the comparison I made above fails: I’m not going to start calling people who think they should never, ever watch an R-rated movie sinners), but I don’t particularly want to read it.
And that’s part of the problem I had with The Actor and the Housewife, I guess: it’s marketed as a mainstream book, but both the author and the main character are Mormons, and a lot of the plot is driven by a moral compass that I can’t help finding somewhat insane. The basic plot is this: Mormon housewife Becky Jack semi-improbably becomes besties with atheist movie star Felix Callahan—whose life philosophy is treated with utter fairness and respect, and in that Hale has one up on me. But then interspersed amongst the expected shenanigans there are, say, long sections in which Becky has to go to her husband and her church to get permission to maintain an entirely innocent and platonic relationship with a man she isn’t married to. And this is presented like it’s totally okay: yes, little lady, your husband and your priest can regulate every aspect of your life! In fact, they should, and if you don’t let them, you should be paralyzed with guilt! (And, you know: also no R-rated movies for you.)
There were things I really, really liked about this novel. Hale’s narrative voice was vibrant and meta and fun, and parts of the story made me laugh out loud, while other parts had me seriously choked up. The ending annoyed me a little—on a purely narrative level; I felt like Hale was being a bit of a cocktease and trying to have things both ways—but for the most part: fun book! Fun book I could never fully enjoy because I thought about living Becky’s life and I wanted to scream.
Possibly what all of this reveals is that I am less open-minded than I would like to believe. And, you know, maybe. So if that’s true, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do. I can read about women being treated unfairly in historical fiction and sometimes I can stomach it (sometimes) because I tell myself: hey, that was the time period, things got better. But this is a modern novel, and its author—clearly a really smart, funny, self-aware woman—thinks this sort of thing is just fine. And I don’t know what to do with that. At all.
All I do know is, based on her prose style and her sense of humor, I would really like to read more of Hale’s work. But based on other factors—yes, My Thoughts On Mormonism, Let Me Show You Them—I’m not sure I will, or should. And that makes me sad.
88. Therefore, Repent!, Jim Munroe — A post-apocalyptic graphic novel that features a neat take on the Rapture and some seriously confusing art. When I could figure out what was supposed to be going on, I enjoyed this.
89. Maps and Legends, Michael Chabon — Like a lot of Chabon’s writing, I found this alternately fascinating and annoyingly pretentious. It’s weird: I really enjoy a lot of Chabon’s work, but at the same time he sort of bugs me. It may be that we like a lot of the same things (Sherlock Holmes, mythology, genre fiction, Philip Pullman) and so I’m irritated when he presents as AMAZING REVELATIONS things that are really bloody obvious to me. Like his “In Defense of Genre Fiction” essay—I mean, I’m glad that he’s talking about this, but I felt he didn’t go as far or as deep as he could, and then seemed really pleased to have only scraped the surface.
Still, some of the pieces about writing are neat, and this book encouraged me to track down the D’Aulaires’ Book of Norse Myths, for which I am grateful. So that’s nice.
Total Reviews: 90/196
Not so much. If you want to read a book about an unlikeable narrator—in this case, supposedly Wilkie Collins—bitch about his likewise unlikeable friend/rival/whatever—supposedly Charles Dickens—for 800 pages while some vaguely spooky stuff happens, none of which is scary or interesting enough to sustain the narrative—then this doorstop of a read is the book for you. If not, then don’t be like me—run! Run! Save yourselves!
82. The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson — I am often asked which of Larsson’s first two novels, this or The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, is better. My standard response is Tattoo, because nothing in Fire can match the wonder and pleasure of meeting Larsson’s characters, particularly Lisbeth Salander, for the first time. I stand by this answer, although it’s possible that the plot of Salander and Blomkvist’s second outing is even more exciting and suspenseful than the first. Both books are terrific reads, however, and they work wonderfully as a pair. Why should one have to choose?
The third—and last, as Larsson is sadly and prematurely deceased—book in the series doesn’t come out in America until next year, but I got it from the U.K. as soon as it became available. I haven’t started it yet, though—I’m afraid to. I don’t want this story to end.
83. The Walls of the Universe, Paul Melko — Sci-Fi novel in which the possession of a universe-hopping device is apparently just a prelude to lots of boring emo white dude angst. Yawn. This book was published this year, yet it feels like it’s stuck back in the 1960s or something. The two major “technological advances” that are most heavily dealt with are pinball and the Rubik’s cube—does anybody even use a computer? The internet? And, like I said, it’s boring, with one of the two versions of the protagonist spending most of his time worrying about making a living now that he’s stuck with a girl he knocked up—the same girl he knocks up in almost every universe. Okay, forget the internet—has anybody ever heard of CONDOMS?
Points for a very cool “Make my day”-type speech toward the end—delivered by one of the book’s few interesting female characters, no less! But one neat paragraph hardly makes the whole boring book worth reading.
84., 85., 87. & 90. The Saga of the Bloody Benders, The Beast of Chicago, A Treasury of Victorian Murder & The Case of Madeleine Smith, Rick Geary — Little graphic histories of 19th Century crime. Geary’s slightly off black and white art lends itself well to the material, and the stories themselves are grisly/fascinating, although the unsolved ones have the frustrating edge typical to true crime tales where the solution was never found. This is especially good reading if you are a Supernatural fan as several of the cases have been used in episodes of the show—"The Benders" and "No Exit." I like the latter episode a lot, but with both examples, reality is scarier, yo. Wait till you get to the part about the greasy, stained curtain.
86. The Actor and the Housewife, Shannon Hale — I put off writing this review for a really long time because I knew that no matter what I did, it was going to turn into My Thoughts On Mormonism, and nobody really cares about My Thoughts On Mormonism, nor is a book review really the place to discuss them. However, the Mormon faith has such a large role in this book that I can’t not address it, as it seriously influenced my enjoyment of the novel. So, inescapably: My Thoughts on Mormonism.
I have some problems with Mormonism. I don’t pretend to know or understand all the tenets of this religion, and mostly I would not care, except that the Church of Latter-Day Saints seems to have such strict rules regarding its members’ personal and social lives. I am really bothered by any faith that preaches that homosexuality is a sin, or that women must be subservient to their husbands. (I know that there are some more “mainstream” Christians who believe these things too, and I am equally bothered by that. However, that’s not what this book is about.) Reading a book that presents these attitudes as super-duper hunky dory makes me incredibly uncomfortable—almost as uncomfortable, I would wager, as a devout Mormon would find a book about the pleasures of gay sex interspersed with demon hunting (which to me would qualify as an awesome way to spend a Saturday night). I don’t have any problem with a book that’s all “yay, Mormonism!” existing (and perhaps that’s where the comparison I made above fails: I’m not going to start calling people who think they should never, ever watch an R-rated movie sinners), but I don’t particularly want to read it.
And that’s part of the problem I had with The Actor and the Housewife, I guess: it’s marketed as a mainstream book, but both the author and the main character are Mormons, and a lot of the plot is driven by a moral compass that I can’t help finding somewhat insane. The basic plot is this: Mormon housewife Becky Jack semi-improbably becomes besties with atheist movie star Felix Callahan—whose life philosophy is treated with utter fairness and respect, and in that Hale has one up on me. But then interspersed amongst the expected shenanigans there are, say, long sections in which Becky has to go to her husband and her church to get permission to maintain an entirely innocent and platonic relationship with a man she isn’t married to. And this is presented like it’s totally okay: yes, little lady, your husband and your priest can regulate every aspect of your life! In fact, they should, and if you don’t let them, you should be paralyzed with guilt! (And, you know: also no R-rated movies for you.)
There were things I really, really liked about this novel. Hale’s narrative voice was vibrant and meta and fun, and parts of the story made me laugh out loud, while other parts had me seriously choked up. The ending annoyed me a little—on a purely narrative level; I felt like Hale was being a bit of a cocktease and trying to have things both ways—but for the most part: fun book! Fun book I could never fully enjoy because I thought about living Becky’s life and I wanted to scream.
Possibly what all of this reveals is that I am less open-minded than I would like to believe. And, you know, maybe. So if that’s true, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do. I can read about women being treated unfairly in historical fiction and sometimes I can stomach it (sometimes) because I tell myself: hey, that was the time period, things got better. But this is a modern novel, and its author—clearly a really smart, funny, self-aware woman—thinks this sort of thing is just fine. And I don’t know what to do with that. At all.
All I do know is, based on her prose style and her sense of humor, I would really like to read more of Hale’s work. But based on other factors—yes, My Thoughts On Mormonism, Let Me Show You Them—I’m not sure I will, or should. And that makes me sad.
88. Therefore, Repent!, Jim Munroe — A post-apocalyptic graphic novel that features a neat take on the Rapture and some seriously confusing art. When I could figure out what was supposed to be going on, I enjoyed this.
89. Maps and Legends, Michael Chabon — Like a lot of Chabon’s writing, I found this alternately fascinating and annoyingly pretentious. It’s weird: I really enjoy a lot of Chabon’s work, but at the same time he sort of bugs me. It may be that we like a lot of the same things (Sherlock Holmes, mythology, genre fiction, Philip Pullman) and so I’m irritated when he presents as AMAZING REVELATIONS things that are really bloody obvious to me. Like his “In Defense of Genre Fiction” essay—I mean, I’m glad that he’s talking about this, but I felt he didn’t go as far or as deep as he could, and then seemed really pleased to have only scraped the surface.
Still, some of the pieces about writing are neat, and this book encouraged me to track down the D’Aulaires’ Book of Norse Myths, for which I am grateful. So that’s nice.
Total Reviews: 90/196
