Welcome to the fourth book in this series, starring Dante Valentine. The plot thickens, as Lilith Saintcrow put a complete pause on the mess that is the family feud from Hell (literally, haha) and turned Danny's attention to the the murder of her good friends Gabrielle Spocarelli and Edward Thornton. This time the cyberpunk novel held more mystery, because the pacing was faster and there was a lot more action. While everything seems to be higher stakes and more dramatic with demon kind because they're the top of the food chain, this book with its focus on vengeance and (human) problems like drugs reminded me of Tarantino. Especially with the way Danny is less haunted emo Necromance and becoming more unstable demon antihero.
I feel like this arc was inserted last minute, in order to create suspense and put off Lucifer's family situation. Admittedly, Gabe and Eddie never made too big of an impression on me, but I still had to wonder at the author's choice of adding another two deaths into Danny's count of all the people she cared about who she feels abandoned her. Equally interesting was the choice to have Jace Monroe come back as a guardian spirit haunting her head. Danny's confused, and I'm confused too. With both Anubis and Jace and Japhrimel in her head, who is she going to listen to? Since she and Japhrimel have been on the rocks, I guess that leaves Anubis and Jace. What does it mean for Danny now that Jace appears more often when she's knocked out than Anubis?
And now Eve is trying to get inside her head, as well. With so many people pushing her around, it's no wonder that she's frustrated. While she did not pray to Sekmet, I thought it ironic and fitting that Japhrimel should give her that statue. In return for having an impossibly fast metabolism and a portion of demon strength, she loses a large portion of her humanity, and Danny is beginning to realize it. Her honor is suffering and her values are changing, resulting in a lot of destruction. While Japhrimel loses a portion of his power, he gains a good portion of human emotion. All of this seems to be very subtle; mainly because the character Danny's too distracted to be self aware. Another subtlety is Lilith Saintcrow's ability to foreshadow, making for excellent suspense. For instance, what will Japhrimel do after he escapes from capture when he and Danny are at war? Why did Anubis demand that Danny spare the healer who had a part in killing Gabe?
More questions. In terms of general style, because the chapters are generally short and only one major event happens in each chapter, the author can be painstakingly detailed. This makes for a paradoxical feeling of the story-time moving very fast and very slow, at the same time. Also, before Danny unwittingly adopted a demon's sense of flat and ironic humor, she used to giggle in dangerous situations. Sometimes I would step back and look at the situation the author crafted, and chuckle sardonically as well - because I feel like the author is laughing at her own creation and character, Danny. Perhaps I'm thinking too much. Anyhow, the pacing is the way it is not just because of the length of the chapters, but also because of Danny's processes of questioning people and having pieces click together in her head - again, more like a mystery than a noir because of the somewhat short action scenes.
While my friend felt that there is no character development (because no matter what happens, Dante gets into worse spats and never stops complaining), I disagree. The slight changes are in the re-introduction of Jace, the distancing of Anubis, the ignored Sekmet and the interchanges between her and Japhrimel, who is developing as well. Because of the deep care and focus on these two characters, I felt that other characters were not changing. (Dying is not a way of changing, in my opinion.) Because the world is rapidly expanding, it seems that new people are introduced very suddenly, and also half the time go away very suddenly. The author makes it so that readers can seem to focus only on Dante and Japhrimel - indeed, it is the nature of their relationship that will decide whether all of Hell's denizens stay there or not.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Review of The Devil's Right Hand, by Lilith Saintcrow
So here we are at the third book of this series. I think the author has pretty much stopped summarizing what has happened in the previous books, which is to my relief since I read both previous books, but would be confusing to the audience who hasn't. New readers are bound to wonder how and why Danny changed from human to this hedaira being. They would know that she and Japhrimel are a couple, which is really what is relevant in this arc, so that makes sense. However, they wouldn't know who Eve is, wonder about Gabe and Jace, and only half an idea of what happened between Danny and Lucifer. But I understand that's probably a conscious artistic decision; and even if it weren't, it's hard to moderate between too much summarization of past arcs/books, and too little.
The first few chapters seem out of character for Danny, because she has never been so girly. I almost feel impolite writing this, as if I may know this character better than the author, so presumptuous. But still, Danny has never been so spoiled, so why did it take her such a short time to begin taking Japhrimel for granted? She took Jace for granted, and is a little selfish with (romantic) relationships, but she seemed a little too unreasonable with Japhrimel - even if she didn't understand the honor system that demons held. It's like she regresses while she's with him. Then after the meeting with Lucifer, she returns to rational thought once again - fighting for her survival, and thankfully, slightly calmly this time around. I wonder if this may be a metaphor for the way some women must grow in relationships.
Japhrimel must grow as well, because he doesn't seem to understand that no matter how much he tries to protect her, the demon laws of his culture will never apply to Dante. That is the heart of all relationships, no? To understand what the other person cares about the most, while caring through life and death for the other person. One must have a black sense of humor to read this book, for I find myself more entertained and laughing uproariously at the times when Danny is most in danger, because of the absurdity of her existence. The author's sense of humor also thinly veils the many other popular culture references in the characters of the novel, aside from the most obvious of Dante to Dante's Inferno.
Personal preference: I really like Lucas the Deathless. His efficiency and dryness humor me to the utmost. Eve personifies to me the ultimate femme fatale, the kind of woman that Polyamour only dreams of becoming - a being who seduces without effort, so persuasive is her essence. This book makes up for my saying about the first two books of the series that there is no character development. I take it back - because Dante is changing. While my attention was not caught by the characters in the previous books, now I am fascinated by the relationship between Lucifer and his child Japhrimel. As well as by the cruel love between Dante and Japhrimel. Though I am still impressed by the author's action scenes, they do not seem to take priority here, for all that the fate of the living world hangs in the balance between Lucifer, Eve, Japhrimel, and Dante.
For all the paranormal abilities and fantasy action, I felt that what's happening here was really an essential human conflict. All those vampires and werewolves died in that bar, because the Eldest son and youngest daughter of Lucifer decided to rebel. Son and daughter against their father: a family conflict. A main character wedded to this Eldest son, making Lucifer technically Dante's father-in-law, as revolting to her as it may be. Lucifer, for all his demon power, struggles with the two things most human parents struggle with: letting go of their children, and learning to like their children-in-law. Japhrimel, for all his demon power, also struggles with a human situation: vying for independence from family, and coping with the wrath of his lover. And Dante, who isn't sure she's human, struggles with personal values, personal loyalties, her feelings for her lover, and ultimately, what she wants out of life. The fact that most of this book is set in vaguely Middle Eastern settings may also be a comment on real events.
For all that this book mainly just explained the relationship between various characters, and is the start a whole new arc that is expected to take roughly several books, I was satisfied, because character relationships mean something to me. This is in contrast to the first book, driven by introductions, settings and action, or the second book, driven by plot and existential ruminating over the ghosts of a person's past. Lilith Saintcrow prioritizes different aspects in each book, stretching them to the fullest, which gives different parts of the series a distinct flavor. This is a different style from most of the authors that I've read, who keep the same stylistic preferences for the whole series, but ups the stakes for the character each time, charged with whatever the author is most good at. This author seems to take a more well-rounded approach.
The first few chapters seem out of character for Danny, because she has never been so girly. I almost feel impolite writing this, as if I may know this character better than the author, so presumptuous. But still, Danny has never been so spoiled, so why did it take her such a short time to begin taking Japhrimel for granted? She took Jace for granted, and is a little selfish with (romantic) relationships, but she seemed a little too unreasonable with Japhrimel - even if she didn't understand the honor system that demons held. It's like she regresses while she's with him. Then after the meeting with Lucifer, she returns to rational thought once again - fighting for her survival, and thankfully, slightly calmly this time around. I wonder if this may be a metaphor for the way some women must grow in relationships.
Japhrimel must grow as well, because he doesn't seem to understand that no matter how much he tries to protect her, the demon laws of his culture will never apply to Dante. That is the heart of all relationships, no? To understand what the other person cares about the most, while caring through life and death for the other person. One must have a black sense of humor to read this book, for I find myself more entertained and laughing uproariously at the times when Danny is most in danger, because of the absurdity of her existence. The author's sense of humor also thinly veils the many other popular culture references in the characters of the novel, aside from the most obvious of Dante to Dante's Inferno.
Personal preference: I really like Lucas the Deathless. His efficiency and dryness humor me to the utmost. Eve personifies to me the ultimate femme fatale, the kind of woman that Polyamour only dreams of becoming - a being who seduces without effort, so persuasive is her essence. This book makes up for my saying about the first two books of the series that there is no character development. I take it back - because Dante is changing. While my attention was not caught by the characters in the previous books, now I am fascinated by the relationship between Lucifer and his child Japhrimel. As well as by the cruel love between Dante and Japhrimel. Though I am still impressed by the author's action scenes, they do not seem to take priority here, for all that the fate of the living world hangs in the balance between Lucifer, Eve, Japhrimel, and Dante.
For all the paranormal abilities and fantasy action, I felt that what's happening here was really an essential human conflict. All those vampires and werewolves died in that bar, because the Eldest son and youngest daughter of Lucifer decided to rebel. Son and daughter against their father: a family conflict. A main character wedded to this Eldest son, making Lucifer technically Dante's father-in-law, as revolting to her as it may be. Lucifer, for all his demon power, struggles with the two things most human parents struggle with: letting go of their children, and learning to like their children-in-law. Japhrimel, for all his demon power, also struggles with a human situation: vying for independence from family, and coping with the wrath of his lover. And Dante, who isn't sure she's human, struggles with personal values, personal loyalties, her feelings for her lover, and ultimately, what she wants out of life. The fact that most of this book is set in vaguely Middle Eastern settings may also be a comment on real events.
For all that this book mainly just explained the relationship between various characters, and is the start a whole new arc that is expected to take roughly several books, I was satisfied, because character relationships mean something to me. This is in contrast to the first book, driven by introductions, settings and action, or the second book, driven by plot and existential ruminating over the ghosts of a person's past. Lilith Saintcrow prioritizes different aspects in each book, stretching them to the fullest, which gives different parts of the series a distinct flavor. This is a different style from most of the authors that I've read, who keep the same stylistic preferences for the whole series, but ups the stakes for the character each time, charged with whatever the author is most good at. This author seems to take a more well-rounded approach.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Review for Dead Man Rising, by Lilith Saintcrow
If there was a soundtrack for this series made into a tv show or movie, it would be consisted of hard rock, metal and death metal. The voice of the protagonist Danny is no less than scathing emo. I hadn't even realized that's what it was until I talked to someone else who was reading the series, and she had hated Dante's voice. It was no mere coincidence that the person I was speaking to had hated American hard rock, punk rock, metal and death metal, as well. Nevertheless, a handful of chapters into the second book, small subtle changes are taking place. For instance, the cast is expanding - now to incorporate her sensei Jado and her masseuse Sierra. Our protagonist is less PTSD'ed and heartbroken betrayed now, so much as just grieving and heartbroken, a subtle difference. Her new physique, which she keeps snidely noticing, is giving the novel more of a gothic romantic feel, as defined by modern fashions.
The other thing was that whenever Danny keeps pushing away thoughts of something, it is foreshadowing for the rest of the book. It makes it slightly more predictable. In the first book, when she kept thinking of her nightmares of Doreen and a past that she can't get away from, the rest of the book was devoted to ending those nightmares. This fear and longing for Japhrimel is far more conscious, however; and maybe our character matures slightly, even though her aura is still stretched taut and she's as tense as ever. Not even Sierra's famous massages helped for all that long. At least she's smiling a little more often now.
When Danny starts questioning people about Rigger Hall after the insane ghost of one victim attacked her, the novel starts to get a cyberpunk noir type of feel. It's calm and investigative, building up the suspense and delaying the action, because the stuff of nightmares for our characters isn't that easily to be unraveled. That, and the atmosphere set by the author's words when Danny's doing something as usual as opening up an old locker. The noir feel is also because of the ghosted love triangle between Japhrimel, Dante and Jace - now that Japhrimel's dead (or we presume so), the relationship between Jace and Dante is almost Casablanca-esque. All those reporters sitting outside Dante's house just gives everything a strange offsetting point.
Three fourths into the novel, the ever winding thoughts of grief and revenge and the muted introspection when she was walking to Rigger Hall were driving me mad. Maybe it's just that I'm an impatient reader, so maybe I don't do so well with that much suspense, but I really wanted the action to come already. All the descriptions of her surroundings started reminding me of Charles Dickens and the way he would keep going on about scenery. Or Herman Melville - take your pick.
Also, it was fairly obvious by that point to me that Japhrimel had returned, and I didn't understand why Danny was in such denial of it. It's like she keeps insisting on thinking that everyone has to die around her, just because that's the way her Fate was set. It was a sad state, watching through the eyes of a (character) soul who is so used to death that she denies hope because she so desperately fears disappointment. For the empathetic reader, she is to be pitied though she would hate it, and for the harsh reader, she is just plain delusional. But she treasures the positive interactions that she has, which in the end, saved her. That, and Japhrimel, a part that was slightly predictable.
Though the action felt slightly disappointing given the amount of build up, it was a semi-typical noir move to end everything on a note of contentment despite everything. Perhaps because of how long it took to put all the puzzle pieces together, I expected a grand battle - but this was a battle of another sort, a battle of the psyche. It feels like the series could have ended right there, but I know there are more books to read. More psychic food for me.
The other thing was that whenever Danny keeps pushing away thoughts of something, it is foreshadowing for the rest of the book. It makes it slightly more predictable. In the first book, when she kept thinking of her nightmares of Doreen and a past that she can't get away from, the rest of the book was devoted to ending those nightmares. This fear and longing for Japhrimel is far more conscious, however; and maybe our character matures slightly, even though her aura is still stretched taut and she's as tense as ever. Not even Sierra's famous massages helped for all that long. At least she's smiling a little more often now.
When Danny starts questioning people about Rigger Hall after the insane ghost of one victim attacked her, the novel starts to get a cyberpunk noir type of feel. It's calm and investigative, building up the suspense and delaying the action, because the stuff of nightmares for our characters isn't that easily to be unraveled. That, and the atmosphere set by the author's words when Danny's doing something as usual as opening up an old locker. The noir feel is also because of the ghosted love triangle between Japhrimel, Dante and Jace - now that Japhrimel's dead (or we presume so), the relationship between Jace and Dante is almost Casablanca-esque. All those reporters sitting outside Dante's house just gives everything a strange offsetting point.
Three fourths into the novel, the ever winding thoughts of grief and revenge and the muted introspection when she was walking to Rigger Hall were driving me mad. Maybe it's just that I'm an impatient reader, so maybe I don't do so well with that much suspense, but I really wanted the action to come already. All the descriptions of her surroundings started reminding me of Charles Dickens and the way he would keep going on about scenery. Or Herman Melville - take your pick.
Also, it was fairly obvious by that point to me that Japhrimel had returned, and I didn't understand why Danny was in such denial of it. It's like she keeps insisting on thinking that everyone has to die around her, just because that's the way her Fate was set. It was a sad state, watching through the eyes of a (character) soul who is so used to death that she denies hope because she so desperately fears disappointment. For the empathetic reader, she is to be pitied though she would hate it, and for the harsh reader, she is just plain delusional. But she treasures the positive interactions that she has, which in the end, saved her. That, and Japhrimel, a part that was slightly predictable.
Though the action felt slightly disappointing given the amount of build up, it was a semi-typical noir move to end everything on a note of contentment despite everything. Perhaps because of how long it took to put all the puzzle pieces together, I expected a grand battle - but this was a battle of another sort, a battle of the psyche. It feels like the series could have ended right there, but I know there are more books to read. More psychic food for me.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Review for Working for the Devil, by Lilith Saintcrow
Very suspenseful, with a lot of thought put into planning the plot and the whole enterprise. That was my first impression upon finishing the book. Lilith Saintcrow - it's kind of an obvious pseudonym, in my opinion - also excelled at describing her action scenes, which is a talent reserved the good multitaskers who can simplistically keep track of all her characters' whereabouts and quick-one-over reactions. It felt more like an expensive action film than fantasy or romance, because of all the futuristic technology involved and the lack of pornographic descriptions. I wonder if I should say satisfying read, because I definitely want more.
Surprisingly, none of the characters stood out all that much this time, aside from their quick outstanding characteristics. It makes me think that the author plans in bullet points. That's not to say that the characters don't have personalities, but that development didn't really happen yet. Which is understandable, given that this is the first book of a series, and a fourth to half the time, there are paragraphs where the protagonist has to lap deep into thought so that readers get a background story. The dialogue is also a bit clipped, with a lot of attitude thrown in, which consistently reminds me of the pop star Pink. Now personally, I like Pink, so I think of that as a favorable and somewhat fun impression, but I know that's not the case for everyone else.
Having a polytheistic world with a bisexual main character is kind of complicated. Aside from a singular love triangle that was there this time, I anticipate a whole lot more of romantic confusion. I suppose the protagonist's, Dante's, honor complex might simplify that a bit. At the very least, I assume it means one sexual partner at a time. With the polytheism, there's the assumption that aside from the Christian devil and the Egyptian god of Death, that there are far many more gods to be trifled with. The classical humanist belief system here is kind of set in - determinists shouldn't read this book, not that I imagine there to be a lot of American determinists out there. That kind of mindset is not really for the modern age, anymore.
I have to wonder at the linguistic choice of altering Christian to Christos, when everyone reading can obviously see which religion she is referring to. Maybe it's to enforce that this is a fantasy book, and not to take offense at anything if any of it steps on anyone's religious beliefs. I know that it would offend monotheists, probably, if they're very strict about it. Then again, I don't know if a strict monotheist would touch the book after reading its title. There's also the question of whether classical humanism interferes with monotheistic religious beliefs, but the theorists will puzzle that one out for me. Even though the author uses classical humanist stories and beliefs as a basis for her protagonist, this book is not a rewriting of Dante's Inferno, merely a tribute.
I was surprised that there was no Latin, given that it is an old dead language often used in novels as part of magic. However, I understood that since Danny's god is Anubis, that Egyptian is spoken out of relevance and respect. Depending on the god, each must speak a different language. This book is a suitable offering for the ancient stories and gods. However, I will have to keep reading to see if all parts of the series are as good an offering.
Surprisingly, none of the characters stood out all that much this time, aside from their quick outstanding characteristics. It makes me think that the author plans in bullet points. That's not to say that the characters don't have personalities, but that development didn't really happen yet. Which is understandable, given that this is the first book of a series, and a fourth to half the time, there are paragraphs where the protagonist has to lap deep into thought so that readers get a background story. The dialogue is also a bit clipped, with a lot of attitude thrown in, which consistently reminds me of the pop star Pink. Now personally, I like Pink, so I think of that as a favorable and somewhat fun impression, but I know that's not the case for everyone else.
Having a polytheistic world with a bisexual main character is kind of complicated. Aside from a singular love triangle that was there this time, I anticipate a whole lot more of romantic confusion. I suppose the protagonist's, Dante's, honor complex might simplify that a bit. At the very least, I assume it means one sexual partner at a time. With the polytheism, there's the assumption that aside from the Christian devil and the Egyptian god of Death, that there are far many more gods to be trifled with. The classical humanist belief system here is kind of set in - determinists shouldn't read this book, not that I imagine there to be a lot of American determinists out there. That kind of mindset is not really for the modern age, anymore.
I have to wonder at the linguistic choice of altering Christian to Christos, when everyone reading can obviously see which religion she is referring to. Maybe it's to enforce that this is a fantasy book, and not to take offense at anything if any of it steps on anyone's religious beliefs. I know that it would offend monotheists, probably, if they're very strict about it. Then again, I don't know if a strict monotheist would touch the book after reading its title. There's also the question of whether classical humanism interferes with monotheistic religious beliefs, but the theorists will puzzle that one out for me. Even though the author uses classical humanist stories and beliefs as a basis for her protagonist, this book is not a rewriting of Dante's Inferno, merely a tribute.
I was surprised that there was no Latin, given that it is an old dead language often used in novels as part of magic. However, I understood that since Danny's god is Anubis, that Egyptian is spoken out of relevance and respect. Depending on the god, each must speak a different language. This book is a suitable offering for the ancient stories and gods. However, I will have to keep reading to see if all parts of the series are as good an offering.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Review for Thorn Queen, by Richelle Mead
This title is the second book of this series. I must say that I started reading this series with a bit of skepticism. A young woman in Tucson, AZ banishing spirits into other worlds? Well, at first it just seems like a cheap gimmick that a mediocre television station would come up with - for a quick and dirty action drama. Throw in a little sex with pretty people, and the show's got itself made, right? So I wasn't impressed that much by the first book, even if the protagonist Eugenie seems to be my kind of sensible girl and her magical powers are blossoming. But Richelle Mead's compelling voice and descriptive characterization kept me going, and I gave the spiel a second try.
The voice and point of view are unwaveringly first person, which is great in terms of hiding other characters' intentions until the action comes to the fore. The author also demonstrates great characterization when readers remember who does what and why. While the fox Kiyo is still a main player this round, his motivations seem to be getting more vague. He claims to be looking out for Eugenie's bests interests, but there is this complication where he has to bring up a child he had with another woman other than the protagonist. I will be waiting to see how his feelings and motivations change during the third book, as well. But it's not as simple as that - Richelle Mead impressively uses the almost dead technique of allegory.
Eugenie's confusion and feelings for both Kiyo and Dorian come to be attached with her emotions for both worlds, human and gentry. While the fox-man has come to represent the more human and democratically oriented worldview, the fairy king now speaks for the city-state and feudally oriented medieval worldview. At the risk of reading too much into this one piece of fiction, one would think that Richelle Mead may be referring to the respective First World/Third World conundrum, or even the East West cultural clash. I favor the latter, obviously because I am what they call American Born Chinese.
There are other issues that she discusses as well, and I couldn't help but feel as I continued reading that this may be one of the most blatantly (and satirically?) political works of fiction that I've read in a long time. The first book had already touched on racism, when Eugenie's attitude towards the gentry started changing for the better. Maybe classism, as well, considering that there is no such thing as middle class among the gentry - someone is either nobility, or he is a peasant. I correct myself, the closest thing to middle class in the Otherworld consists of artisans and craftmen, who came embodied in the blacksmith Girald, only in this book.
To me, the villains here symbolized the medieval way of thinking, in which women are merely vassals to their parents and then their husbands - no matter their overall station in life. Beneath all the layers, that was the central conflict of the plot: the disagreeing opinions on the nature of love and the way a woman should be wooed, which also speaks of her self-value in a relationship as well. So Richelle Mead also discusses women's rights and feminism here, in Eugenie's sorting out her feelings in terms of which kind of man she prefers between Dorian and Kiyo. The only complaint I have involves how soon Eugenie returned to relatively normal after her traumatic experience. However, this is a fantasy fiction book with a high level of romance, and being more realistic about the emotional aftermath here would dampen that selling point by quite a bit.
Politics, human interactions, and Eugenie's having to figure all of this out with the help of her advisors who Dorian provided - all of these things make the Otherworld seem more real. In this book, the Otherworld seems to feel more substantial than the human world, if simply because Eugenie is both emotionally closer to her advisors than her parents and Kiyo at this point, which is complicated by her magical (read, soul-link) to her Thorn Land. This may also be because being a monarch, the ultimate decision maker, is far more challenging than being an anonymous spirit banisher. A challenge like that is bound to engage Eugenie, who has more of an ambitious and restless personality than she realizes, her righteousness aside.
Usually, I don't buy much into the New York Times' bestseller list, preferring to leaf through shelves by myself, but it seems as though their high ratings of her are correct. I still did have one serious complaint, though, for all my oohs-and-ahs over her writing, so personally, I'd give her 4.5 stars out of 5.
The voice and point of view are unwaveringly first person, which is great in terms of hiding other characters' intentions until the action comes to the fore. The author also demonstrates great characterization when readers remember who does what and why. While the fox Kiyo is still a main player this round, his motivations seem to be getting more vague. He claims to be looking out for Eugenie's bests interests, but there is this complication where he has to bring up a child he had with another woman other than the protagonist. I will be waiting to see how his feelings and motivations change during the third book, as well. But it's not as simple as that - Richelle Mead impressively uses the almost dead technique of allegory.
Eugenie's confusion and feelings for both Kiyo and Dorian come to be attached with her emotions for both worlds, human and gentry. While the fox-man has come to represent the more human and democratically oriented worldview, the fairy king now speaks for the city-state and feudally oriented medieval worldview. At the risk of reading too much into this one piece of fiction, one would think that Richelle Mead may be referring to the respective First World/Third World conundrum, or even the East West cultural clash. I favor the latter, obviously because I am what they call American Born Chinese.
There are other issues that she discusses as well, and I couldn't help but feel as I continued reading that this may be one of the most blatantly (and satirically?) political works of fiction that I've read in a long time. The first book had already touched on racism, when Eugenie's attitude towards the gentry started changing for the better. Maybe classism, as well, considering that there is no such thing as middle class among the gentry - someone is either nobility, or he is a peasant. I correct myself, the closest thing to middle class in the Otherworld consists of artisans and craftmen, who came embodied in the blacksmith Girald, only in this book.
To me, the villains here symbolized the medieval way of thinking, in which women are merely vassals to their parents and then their husbands - no matter their overall station in life. Beneath all the layers, that was the central conflict of the plot: the disagreeing opinions on the nature of love and the way a woman should be wooed, which also speaks of her self-value in a relationship as well. So Richelle Mead also discusses women's rights and feminism here, in Eugenie's sorting out her feelings in terms of which kind of man she prefers between Dorian and Kiyo. The only complaint I have involves how soon Eugenie returned to relatively normal after her traumatic experience. However, this is a fantasy fiction book with a high level of romance, and being more realistic about the emotional aftermath here would dampen that selling point by quite a bit.
Politics, human interactions, and Eugenie's having to figure all of this out with the help of her advisors who Dorian provided - all of these things make the Otherworld seem more real. In this book, the Otherworld seems to feel more substantial than the human world, if simply because Eugenie is both emotionally closer to her advisors than her parents and Kiyo at this point, which is complicated by her magical (read, soul-link) to her Thorn Land. This may also be because being a monarch, the ultimate decision maker, is far more challenging than being an anonymous spirit banisher. A challenge like that is bound to engage Eugenie, who has more of an ambitious and restless personality than she realizes, her righteousness aside.
Usually, I don't buy much into the New York Times' bestseller list, preferring to leaf through shelves by myself, but it seems as though their high ratings of her are correct. I still did have one serious complaint, though, for all my oohs-and-ahs over her writing, so personally, I'd give her 4.5 stars out of 5.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Review for Imp of the Mind, by Dr. Lee Baer
Unlike most of the other material I have read and reviewed on this site, this book is a clinical medical textbook. It is a very comprehensive self-help guide to keeping oneself from being harmed by one's bad thoughts. The doctor defines almost everything, from what a bad thought is, to the varied range of treatments that a person bothered by excessive bad thoughts of any nature can seek out.
Originally, I came upon the title of this book because a family member afflicted with a mental illness had recommended it to me. While I was reluctant to acknowledge that I myself may have any mental illness, the laws of inheritance and genetics reminded me that it is better to be cautious than to shrug off a potential helper for a problem that I may not be aware of. And so, with a grain of salt, I began reading this book. For these reasons, the text was at times difficult for me to mentally digest.
The voice is clear cut and simple: the voice of a doctor - explanatory and technical, with a very sympathetic tone. The passages of narration only come by when the doctor must give an example of a patient's experiences, to illustrate his point about a particular method of thinking and treatment. He respects their privacy by changing names in the book. Because the voice is also talky, it feels less technical than a thick school textbook may be, and it's not impeded by the lack of any pictures. The charts and lists in the book also greatly help illustrate the point. The only complaint I may have about this text that it understates the discipline and effort necessary to change one's mind - even if he does say that when one cannot do it on his own, he should seek help from a mental health professional.
Going off topic for a paragraph, I think that most books involving getting help for therapy or any other form of extended treatment should also come with a guidebook with instructions on how to obtain reliable health insurance, with different books for different countries. I know far too many people who can start helping themselves if only someone can point them in the right direction; however, it takes a trained professional to confidently do that, and these people must go through the bureaucrats and office work before they can pay a professional for some tips.
I also would have wanted the doctor to go further into the reasons for which such stigma is attached to having bad thoughts. Granted a whole other textbook involving sociology may be necessary to accomplish this, but in my opinion, this was an area worth exploring. I'm making a mental note here to perhaps do a little more research into this area: the social causes of mental instability. In just the scope of the simple self help guide, though, where the doctor probably narrowed his focus so as not to distract those who are trying to help themselves, the book is very thorough. I wouldn't mind seeing this book used as a text for abnormal psychology.
Something that "The Imp" does very well is to illustrate the point that most people aren't as normal as they think they are, and that others around them are also not as normal as they pretend to be. The range from complete normalcy, if such a thing exists, to complete insanity, if such a thing exists, is very large, indeed. I feel that if this point were socialized well enough, then many of the prejudices against the mentally ill may subside at least a little.
The other topic I would have liked the book to discuss more of is the overlap between angry obsessive thoughts and anger management. I can understand why the doctor strayed away from this path, though: many to most OCD patients do not have angry obsessive thoughts. This is also an opening to further research into a given area. If this book were to be used in an abnormal psychology class, then perhaps it should be used near the beginning of the semester, near the end of a unit on OCD, in connection to other subjects that the professor may want to discuss.
As an academic textbook, I feel that this book would be very helpful. As a self help book, it may be better if the person has outside help instead of tackling her bad thoughts alone, because this one book may not be enough. The other option is for her to do further research using many other books. However, I stress that changing one's own mind takes an inordinate amount of discipline and effort. As such, the book most likely accomplishes its purpose most of the time.
Originally, I came upon the title of this book because a family member afflicted with a mental illness had recommended it to me. While I was reluctant to acknowledge that I myself may have any mental illness, the laws of inheritance and genetics reminded me that it is better to be cautious than to shrug off a potential helper for a problem that I may not be aware of. And so, with a grain of salt, I began reading this book. For these reasons, the text was at times difficult for me to mentally digest.
The voice is clear cut and simple: the voice of a doctor - explanatory and technical, with a very sympathetic tone. The passages of narration only come by when the doctor must give an example of a patient's experiences, to illustrate his point about a particular method of thinking and treatment. He respects their privacy by changing names in the book. Because the voice is also talky, it feels less technical than a thick school textbook may be, and it's not impeded by the lack of any pictures. The charts and lists in the book also greatly help illustrate the point. The only complaint I may have about this text that it understates the discipline and effort necessary to change one's mind - even if he does say that when one cannot do it on his own, he should seek help from a mental health professional.
Going off topic for a paragraph, I think that most books involving getting help for therapy or any other form of extended treatment should also come with a guidebook with instructions on how to obtain reliable health insurance, with different books for different countries. I know far too many people who can start helping themselves if only someone can point them in the right direction; however, it takes a trained professional to confidently do that, and these people must go through the bureaucrats and office work before they can pay a professional for some tips.
I also would have wanted the doctor to go further into the reasons for which such stigma is attached to having bad thoughts. Granted a whole other textbook involving sociology may be necessary to accomplish this, but in my opinion, this was an area worth exploring. I'm making a mental note here to perhaps do a little more research into this area: the social causes of mental instability. In just the scope of the simple self help guide, though, where the doctor probably narrowed his focus so as not to distract those who are trying to help themselves, the book is very thorough. I wouldn't mind seeing this book used as a text for abnormal psychology.
Something that "The Imp" does very well is to illustrate the point that most people aren't as normal as they think they are, and that others around them are also not as normal as they pretend to be. The range from complete normalcy, if such a thing exists, to complete insanity, if such a thing exists, is very large, indeed. I feel that if this point were socialized well enough, then many of the prejudices against the mentally ill may subside at least a little.
The other topic I would have liked the book to discuss more of is the overlap between angry obsessive thoughts and anger management. I can understand why the doctor strayed away from this path, though: many to most OCD patients do not have angry obsessive thoughts. This is also an opening to further research into a given area. If this book were to be used in an abnormal psychology class, then perhaps it should be used near the beginning of the semester, near the end of a unit on OCD, in connection to other subjects that the professor may want to discuss.
As an academic textbook, I feel that this book would be very helpful. As a self help book, it may be better if the person has outside help instead of tackling her bad thoughts alone, because this one book may not be enough. The other option is for her to do further research using many other books. However, I stress that changing one's own mind takes an inordinate amount of discipline and effort. As such, the book most likely accomplishes its purpose most of the time.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Review for The Best Travel Writing: 2009
When I found this book at a remote corner of Amherst Books, I was intrigued by the promise on the back of the book. "The Best Travel Writing 2009 is our latest annual collection of great stories guaranteed to ignite your wanderlust." In my opinion, it fulfilled its promise aplenty and invited the reader to more.
It feels harder to write a review for a compilation such as this, because there are thirty stories by thirty authors. Each writer comes from a different background, a different culture, a different point of view, and each story strives to highlight one outstanding moment in someone's life far away. All the technical elements that I usually critique seem to be of lesser importance and even a bit trite here. Grammar, voice and narration, the three elements necessary in travel writing - and any type of writing - seem dwarfed by the meaningful experiences in these people's lives.
Each story is like a sip at a tea tasting ceremony. Every one tastes different, and satisfying in its own way. These are like stories told around a campfire, but committed to the text on the page and the reader's third eye. Travelers are by nature restless, and these experiences are little bits for that restlessness to snack on, before they continue on their journeys. As the Eurythmnics sang, Sweet dreams are made of these/ I travel the world and the seven seas/ everybody's looking for something... All sorts of people, all sorts of lives.
I may also be a bit in awe because of my own naivete. This is my first experience with travel writing as a genre, after all. Traveling is something I romanticize and want to do more of, but have not had the resources or chance to do yet. Someone else may find this volume not to his or her taste. I personally approve of the decisions made by the three editors who compiled this book, and feel that the person who wrote the Introduction knew how to brew a good literary appetizer.
As a Asian person, I was surprised there wasn't a story about China, but given that the international politics surrounding that country are messy to say the least, perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. The journalists, scientists and various other visitors have been imprisoned, after all. It makes sense that a compilation about travel writing wouldn't want to get too political. In fact, the only remotely political piece here was about the city in which Stalin was born, and the later hostile Russian takeover of the nearby country Georgia.
The one that made the least impression was "Crazy Diamond," mainly because that story involved summarized conversations and reasons for leaving home to find oneself amongst strangers. My theory on this subject is that a person generally knows him or herself already, without having to escape across the world to be amongst strangers, to see how one behaves. My theory revolves around the idea that others' expectations cannot make up the individual's identity. Then again, that's me - if you ask my Communist parents, you would get an entirely different story.
So at the end of the day, this is most definitely one of the most interactive books I have ever read, simply because it's pretty much a given that everyone would respond to it differently, according to their own points of view. I feel that this compilation is mainly for a white, upper-middle class educated audience, but also that it's more interesting if you read it and you are not of this background. Hopefully, that is not a racist thing for me to say.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Review for Bone, by Jeff Smith
I give it four stars, because it managed to make me laugh out loud in the middle of the night. For general readers, I feel that if you liked LOTR and cute creatures, you should read Bone. The strong female characters are a plus, which the sci-fi community needs desperately. This long comic book would be of the traditional fantasy genre.
Characterization is a big thing for me, and it was certainly very well done with the three Bones and Grandma Ben. Smiley Bone was indubitably my favorite character. I also thought that everyone received poetic justice at the end. The idea of the dream eye, or the third eye, influencing reality makes the writer in me happy. The author also made good use of the locust insect and its mythical meanings, as well as the creator dragon queen, Mim. By the time we reached the identity of the Lord of Locusts, I thought he was stretching it, but then again, I was also reading this nonfiction book about ghosts and poltergeists recently, so I thought that maybe leftover excess mental energy creating a ghost or zombie might be viable.
Farming was a good excuse for Thorn and Grandma Ben's super strength. Same goes for the bartender Lucius and his bar-goers, as well. The disbelief in dragons and the Lord of Locusts among these ordinary citizens seems to set the story a little back into reality, which was missing in LOTR if we were to contrast the two. Also, the random motives of the cast of characters make them gray, neither on one side or the other, and I felt that that was also missing from LOTR. The largest element missing from LOTR was the element of comedy, which the Bones themselves provided much of, especially that whole arc about the Lord of Locusts being intimidated by Phoney Bone.
The rat creatures were rather cute, and I was happy that there were two in the fray who didn't really have any loyalties except to food, and minimal awareness that they are monsters and what they're supposed to do, rather than what they want to do. I was also happy that Bartleby was a part of the cast, makes me want a rat creature myself. Plotwise, I thought everything started becoming kind of ordinary once the enemy started running its army around looking for a few of the main characters, and also went downhill once the actual battles and war started. I didn't feel all that impressed from then on, because you can feel the author moving the characters around on the chess board trying to figure out and end the dilemmas for a remotely happy ending.
I enjoyed the reasons for the Bones being out of Boneville and here at the city of Barrel Haven. It suggests that there is another series where the Bones are at home, a shorter comic series that comes in daily episodes, like the Peanuts or Charlie Brown. The amusement with Phoney Bone's schemes to get back home with a boatload of treasure was also amusing at first, then became very exasperating by the time the battles rolled around, but that was not something that could be changed, because he was such a strong character and he doesn't listen to anyone, but it just proved to be a bit distracting.
The little friends that the Bones made, all those little animals who are orphans, also disappeared, which I thought was too bad, but I guess there wasn't that much use to them in a battle between humans and rat creatures for ownership of the valley. At one point, I thought there were too many characters, but that may also be personal preference. The LOTR series had that problem as well, too many characters. It makes it seem like it might do better as a video game where you take the main character, create parties and go visit people, rather than something we should watch on the big screen.
What little romance was in this story was also played off as either comedy or a way for Fone Bone to just keep following Thorn wherever she went. I'm just happy that this story is more for children, and there were no sexual harassment, dirty jokes, or semi or full on sex scenes, which is all too rampant in the movies that they have in the theaters today. The feminist movement would approve. Though I guess there was that one moment between Briar and Lucius, and they both paid for it, and that was part of the poetic justice I was talking about.
Overall, I felt like this was a very good read, and LOTR kept coming to mind because of the sheer length of the book, even though they were pictures, all the species involved, and the whole 'balance of the worlds' kind of theme. Recommended for those who like a good fantasy story.
Characterization is a big thing for me, and it was certainly very well done with the three Bones and Grandma Ben. Smiley Bone was indubitably my favorite character. I also thought that everyone received poetic justice at the end. The idea of the dream eye, or the third eye, influencing reality makes the writer in me happy. The author also made good use of the locust insect and its mythical meanings, as well as the creator dragon queen, Mim. By the time we reached the identity of the Lord of Locusts, I thought he was stretching it, but then again, I was also reading this nonfiction book about ghosts and poltergeists recently, so I thought that maybe leftover excess mental energy creating a ghost or zombie might be viable.
Farming was a good excuse for Thorn and Grandma Ben's super strength. Same goes for the bartender Lucius and his bar-goers, as well. The disbelief in dragons and the Lord of Locusts among these ordinary citizens seems to set the story a little back into reality, which was missing in LOTR if we were to contrast the two. Also, the random motives of the cast of characters make them gray, neither on one side or the other, and I felt that that was also missing from LOTR. The largest element missing from LOTR was the element of comedy, which the Bones themselves provided much of, especially that whole arc about the Lord of Locusts being intimidated by Phoney Bone.
The rat creatures were rather cute, and I was happy that there were two in the fray who didn't really have any loyalties except to food, and minimal awareness that they are monsters and what they're supposed to do, rather than what they want to do. I was also happy that Bartleby was a part of the cast, makes me want a rat creature myself. Plotwise, I thought everything started becoming kind of ordinary once the enemy started running its army around looking for a few of the main characters, and also went downhill once the actual battles and war started. I didn't feel all that impressed from then on, because you can feel the author moving the characters around on the chess board trying to figure out and end the dilemmas for a remotely happy ending.
I enjoyed the reasons for the Bones being out of Boneville and here at the city of Barrel Haven. It suggests that there is another series where the Bones are at home, a shorter comic series that comes in daily episodes, like the Peanuts or Charlie Brown. The amusement with Phoney Bone's schemes to get back home with a boatload of treasure was also amusing at first, then became very exasperating by the time the battles rolled around, but that was not something that could be changed, because he was such a strong character and he doesn't listen to anyone, but it just proved to be a bit distracting.
The little friends that the Bones made, all those little animals who are orphans, also disappeared, which I thought was too bad, but I guess there wasn't that much use to them in a battle between humans and rat creatures for ownership of the valley. At one point, I thought there were too many characters, but that may also be personal preference. The LOTR series had that problem as well, too many characters. It makes it seem like it might do better as a video game where you take the main character, create parties and go visit people, rather than something we should watch on the big screen.
What little romance was in this story was also played off as either comedy or a way for Fone Bone to just keep following Thorn wherever she went. I'm just happy that this story is more for children, and there were no sexual harassment, dirty jokes, or semi or full on sex scenes, which is all too rampant in the movies that they have in the theaters today. The feminist movement would approve. Though I guess there was that one moment between Briar and Lucius, and they both paid for it, and that was part of the poetic justice I was talking about.
Overall, I felt like this was a very good read, and LOTR kept coming to mind because of the sheer length of the book, even though they were pictures, all the species involved, and the whole 'balance of the worlds' kind of theme. Recommended for those who like a good fantasy story.
Review for Air Apparent, by Piers Anthony
Piers Anthony has always struck me as an author who employs rather simple characters, but with a winding and twisting plot. So I would say this book is for sci fi and fantasy readers who care more about what happens than who it happens to. The general style of his work is humor based with a relishing in word jokes and bad puns, especially those of a sexual nature. That makes the only reason the series is in the Adult Fiction section as opposed to the Young Adult Fiction section. However, they are just mere references, and there are no actual sex scenes involved in detail. There's a lot of romance, but these are no romance novels.
It starts out kind of posing as a mystery novel, a string of random events that turn out later to be not so random. While the plot is very compelling, the characters are less so, simply because there are so many of them, of various species and natures. Everything is personified, too, including plants and clouds. I found the characters a bit hard to keep track of, because while the names all start to feel familiar at one point, I forget what their abilities or Talents are. Setting is also hard to keep track of in this novel, because they keep moving, which makes for an action packed punning good time. Later on in the second half of the book, it went from mystery to action novel, where Random and Hugo kept flinging cherry bombs and pineapples and mushroom bombs at their enemies.
Meanwhile, love and sex are too often used as motivations for characters' actions, I thought, in this novel. Though power as a motivator came in too, at the end. I suppose that's because money is not an object in Xanth, when people can just use their natural surroundings for sustenance, and their jobs involve managing those surroundings and their Talents. Also, I suppose once a person reaches a certain age, doing things randomly for the fun of it isn't really a motivation anymore. That, or the characters and lives of Xanth are already random enough without having to add to them.
I also thought that children don't generally kiss one another, and they wouldn't understand a thing like love until they are at least teenagers, but maybe I'm being old fashioned. Apparently, young people start dating at the age of 12 or 13 nowadays. Marriage is also a very huge theme throughout many books of the Xanth series, and I attributed this to Piers Anthony getting old, because the Spell for Chameleon, at the very beginning, was not like that. That focused on the journey and the relationship, with feelings gradually appearing, with no thought to marriage. Whereas in this book, it seems that love at first sight exists because of curses and hot springs and such, and it just seems to be established as sudden fact, which I find to be less relatable, but maybe that's just me.
Also not that relatable to me - because I'm terrible at math - were the time space mathematical concepts near the end about alternate dimensions and the linking of worlds and how that worked. I just didn't understand it, but if everything seems to be in its place, and the characters determine that they are back home in original Xanth, then I believe them. It's just weird, that's all. I also think that most of this book is fantasy, and so that little part was semi scientific to explain the ending, and so it just kind of felt packed in, half explained and a little rushed. To some, that adds to the thrill of it, and to others with the solid need to know, it seems not too concrete to chew on.
I've always been a little discomfited by the gender relations in this series, as well. Women are seen to continuously manipulate men through their wiles and appearances. The feminist fruit bat Brunhilda was seen as an opportunistic dominatrix who tamed a dragon despite her tiny size in comparison. In Xanth, every man stares when a bra or a panty is revealed, they freak out, but apparently, everything is fine when bare torsos are exhibited, like with the nymphs and centaurs. The Demon Xanth is male, and Xanth is made from his mind and magic, so all of these things make sense. But I know the role of men as seducers have been limited, and females are less often seen freaked out than men, maybe because of the jokes about intelligence. I wonder what Piers Anthony really thinks of feminism, but I'm not sure I want to know.
The switching of bodies somewhere in the middle of the book justified the case that it's love and not just sex, it's the attraction between personalities, and not bodies. But the case with Brunhilda made it clear that while interspecies love was accepted in Xanth, size differences may sometimes be accounted for by switching bodies. With all the bra touching and awkwardness going on, it's a wonder that someone's not sitting somewhere reading this book and conjuring mental orgies. Anyhow, the distinction is slim, and I applaud Piers Anthony for trying to make it, even though his novels tend to be very sensationalist as well. I give this book 3 to 4 stars.
It starts out kind of posing as a mystery novel, a string of random events that turn out later to be not so random. While the plot is very compelling, the characters are less so, simply because there are so many of them, of various species and natures. Everything is personified, too, including plants and clouds. I found the characters a bit hard to keep track of, because while the names all start to feel familiar at one point, I forget what their abilities or Talents are. Setting is also hard to keep track of in this novel, because they keep moving, which makes for an action packed punning good time. Later on in the second half of the book, it went from mystery to action novel, where Random and Hugo kept flinging cherry bombs and pineapples and mushroom bombs at their enemies.
Meanwhile, love and sex are too often used as motivations for characters' actions, I thought, in this novel. Though power as a motivator came in too, at the end. I suppose that's because money is not an object in Xanth, when people can just use their natural surroundings for sustenance, and their jobs involve managing those surroundings and their Talents. Also, I suppose once a person reaches a certain age, doing things randomly for the fun of it isn't really a motivation anymore. That, or the characters and lives of Xanth are already random enough without having to add to them.
I also thought that children don't generally kiss one another, and they wouldn't understand a thing like love until they are at least teenagers, but maybe I'm being old fashioned. Apparently, young people start dating at the age of 12 or 13 nowadays. Marriage is also a very huge theme throughout many books of the Xanth series, and I attributed this to Piers Anthony getting old, because the Spell for Chameleon, at the very beginning, was not like that. That focused on the journey and the relationship, with feelings gradually appearing, with no thought to marriage. Whereas in this book, it seems that love at first sight exists because of curses and hot springs and such, and it just seems to be established as sudden fact, which I find to be less relatable, but maybe that's just me.
Also not that relatable to me - because I'm terrible at math - were the time space mathematical concepts near the end about alternate dimensions and the linking of worlds and how that worked. I just didn't understand it, but if everything seems to be in its place, and the characters determine that they are back home in original Xanth, then I believe them. It's just weird, that's all. I also think that most of this book is fantasy, and so that little part was semi scientific to explain the ending, and so it just kind of felt packed in, half explained and a little rushed. To some, that adds to the thrill of it, and to others with the solid need to know, it seems not too concrete to chew on.
I've always been a little discomfited by the gender relations in this series, as well. Women are seen to continuously manipulate men through their wiles and appearances. The feminist fruit bat Brunhilda was seen as an opportunistic dominatrix who tamed a dragon despite her tiny size in comparison. In Xanth, every man stares when a bra or a panty is revealed, they freak out, but apparently, everything is fine when bare torsos are exhibited, like with the nymphs and centaurs. The Demon Xanth is male, and Xanth is made from his mind and magic, so all of these things make sense. But I know the role of men as seducers have been limited, and females are less often seen freaked out than men, maybe because of the jokes about intelligence. I wonder what Piers Anthony really thinks of feminism, but I'm not sure I want to know.
The switching of bodies somewhere in the middle of the book justified the case that it's love and not just sex, it's the attraction between personalities, and not bodies. But the case with Brunhilda made it clear that while interspecies love was accepted in Xanth, size differences may sometimes be accounted for by switching bodies. With all the bra touching and awkwardness going on, it's a wonder that someone's not sitting somewhere reading this book and conjuring mental orgies. Anyhow, the distinction is slim, and I applaud Piers Anthony for trying to make it, even though his novels tend to be very sensationalist as well. I give this book 3 to 4 stars.
Review for White Witch, Black Curse, by Kim Harrison
Very, very satisfying book. I recommend it to everyone who's ever interested in urban fantasy. The cast of characters seem real, because they're so well created, and I thoroughly enjoy their development. I have never been to Cincinatti, and don't even know how the name of the city is spelled, but Kim Harrison describes that very well, also, from the bridges, the river, to its rustic buildings and the fantastical segregation between magic oriented people and normal humans.
Recently, I've driven down the highway swearing ("Son of a faery fart!") like Jenks, the pixy partner of the Vampiric Charms running firm. The entire series is very action oriented, and I've enjoyed the diverse abilities and mentalities of different species. If you haven't read any of the other books, Kim has tiny summarizes of what happened in the past six books scattered throughout the plot when they become relevant and need to be explained. Though I felt the situation between Rachel, the protagonist, and Ivy, her roommate is over explained, it was understandable because it was very tough to work out. None of these relationships are normal or boring, and that adds spice to the plot for those interested in such things, balanced out by a very good number of detailed and believable action scenes.
I'm always a fan of multidimensional villains, and this series has a slew of them. In this book, it happens to be Mia, banshee mother, and a high ranking vampire who killed one of Rachel's boyfriends, to tie up that loose end. I thought Kim's dramatic and suspenseful use of Rachel's loss of memory and then her regaining it was masterful, because sometimes when authors use this trick, they don't have enough of other stuff going on to justify the suspense of gaining the memory back. That wasn't a problem here. While I wondered how the conversation with Councilman Trent Kalamack was necessary in this book, that trinket he gave her no doubt would be a lead in to another book, as well as Rachel's renewed feelings for Pierce, a ghost that she met at the age of eighteen upon trying to resurrect her father for questions and support.
Pierce is as a cowboy comes and a cowboy goes, even though his cluelessness from being dead so long shows very well when he fumbles with a cell phone - even though he was able to change the ring tones, apparently, so that was weird - and when he stares off into the ruckus in Central Square on New Year's. His dealings with the demon makes me approve of him, despite the way one should normally not deal with demons. His profession, however, would probably prove harmful to Rachel. We also have yet to see Rachel back in the ever after with Al, even though that was something I was looking forward to in this book, because I wanted to know what she was learning. Well, no such luck. But the introduction of the species of banshee - Mia - and empath - Ford - makes up for it. I also think those two characters might end up together, because that was hinted very strongly.
Seeing this couple, I can imagine Rachel wanting even more to have someone who evens her out and loves her. While Jenks the pixy is completely adverse to Pierce's presence because he was a ghost and was "spying" on them, I think Ivy would start having a problem too, once she found out that he's got a body. Vampires are very possessive people, after all. I'm kind of sorry Marshal left, but always thought he wasn't that interesting anyway - too safe, as Rachel's mother put it. I thought Rachel's brother was annoying, but then again, which sibling isn't? Especially where a lot of sibling rivalry is involved. It's true that his cautious attitude - kind of weird for a musician - is probably better for Rachel's mother than living around Rachel is, especially after a shunning. I was never a fan of Tom Bansen, so good riddance to him, but I guess I pitied him for having had to die that way. And we still don't know who the demon practitioners are, and they seem to be the balancer of the society or whatever of moral and ethical standards that Pierce is part of. A cowboy who steals things - reminds me of Spike in Cowboy Bebop - who's part of a moral and ethical society? Contradictions are great.
I thought Ford the character matched the Ford in my life for the most part in his straight lacedness, but the Ford I know would be less empathetic, because he's not an empath. Oh, also, I have decided that my boss is a demon. Or an elf. But the way his salesperson personality manipulates people into seeing things his way is definitely on the demon side, though he probably shares the good looks of Trent Kalamack. This entry is turning out to be less of a review and more comparing the book to my life starting this paragraph, and so before I wonder what kind of Inderlander I would be - crap, too late - I'm going to end it here.
Recently, I've driven down the highway swearing ("Son of a faery fart!") like Jenks, the pixy partner of the Vampiric Charms running firm. The entire series is very action oriented, and I've enjoyed the diverse abilities and mentalities of different species. If you haven't read any of the other books, Kim has tiny summarizes of what happened in the past six books scattered throughout the plot when they become relevant and need to be explained. Though I felt the situation between Rachel, the protagonist, and Ivy, her roommate is over explained, it was understandable because it was very tough to work out. None of these relationships are normal or boring, and that adds spice to the plot for those interested in such things, balanced out by a very good number of detailed and believable action scenes.
I'm always a fan of multidimensional villains, and this series has a slew of them. In this book, it happens to be Mia, banshee mother, and a high ranking vampire who killed one of Rachel's boyfriends, to tie up that loose end. I thought Kim's dramatic and suspenseful use of Rachel's loss of memory and then her regaining it was masterful, because sometimes when authors use this trick, they don't have enough of other stuff going on to justify the suspense of gaining the memory back. That wasn't a problem here. While I wondered how the conversation with Councilman Trent Kalamack was necessary in this book, that trinket he gave her no doubt would be a lead in to another book, as well as Rachel's renewed feelings for Pierce, a ghost that she met at the age of eighteen upon trying to resurrect her father for questions and support.
Pierce is as a cowboy comes and a cowboy goes, even though his cluelessness from being dead so long shows very well when he fumbles with a cell phone - even though he was able to change the ring tones, apparently, so that was weird - and when he stares off into the ruckus in Central Square on New Year's. His dealings with the demon makes me approve of him, despite the way one should normally not deal with demons. His profession, however, would probably prove harmful to Rachel. We also have yet to see Rachel back in the ever after with Al, even though that was something I was looking forward to in this book, because I wanted to know what she was learning. Well, no such luck. But the introduction of the species of banshee - Mia - and empath - Ford - makes up for it. I also think those two characters might end up together, because that was hinted very strongly.
Seeing this couple, I can imagine Rachel wanting even more to have someone who evens her out and loves her. While Jenks the pixy is completely adverse to Pierce's presence because he was a ghost and was "spying" on them, I think Ivy would start having a problem too, once she found out that he's got a body. Vampires are very possessive people, after all. I'm kind of sorry Marshal left, but always thought he wasn't that interesting anyway - too safe, as Rachel's mother put it. I thought Rachel's brother was annoying, but then again, which sibling isn't? Especially where a lot of sibling rivalry is involved. It's true that his cautious attitude - kind of weird for a musician - is probably better for Rachel's mother than living around Rachel is, especially after a shunning. I was never a fan of Tom Bansen, so good riddance to him, but I guess I pitied him for having had to die that way. And we still don't know who the demon practitioners are, and they seem to be the balancer of the society or whatever of moral and ethical standards that Pierce is part of. A cowboy who steals things - reminds me of Spike in Cowboy Bebop - who's part of a moral and ethical society? Contradictions are great.
I thought Ford the character matched the Ford in my life for the most part in his straight lacedness, but the Ford I know would be less empathetic, because he's not an empath. Oh, also, I have decided that my boss is a demon. Or an elf. But the way his salesperson personality manipulates people into seeing things his way is definitely on the demon side, though he probably shares the good looks of Trent Kalamack. This entry is turning out to be less of a review and more comparing the book to my life starting this paragraph, and so before I wonder what kind of Inderlander I would be - crap, too late - I'm going to end it here.
Review for God: the Oldest Question, by William J. O'Malley
As with most topics regarding religion, this book is bound to be controversial to those seriously considering its content. I agreed and disagreed with many aspects of Father O'Malley's point of view. While he has a fabulous lecturing voice – due no doubt to hours of practice as a preacher – his strong assertions may turn some people off, especially regarding Eastern religions and culture.
This may be partially because of the lack of an extensive history lesson behind his beliefs regarding Eastern culture. He tried to make up for it by having brief biographies of each of the saints in Eastern religion, but it was not nearly as in depth as his research regarding Western culture. I understand this to be because his entire curriculum of studies and vocation are based upon mostly Western religions. Even so, many of his points about the way Eastern religions remain impersonal are true.
Many people may also gawk at his initial assertion that describing God is impossible, or that God is indescribable. However, he goes on to continue the book and to do as best as he can what he believes to be not completely possible anyway, and that is a sentiment to be admired. As such, this book becomes a very comforting food-for-thought or before-bedtime book, both because of the voice and because of the emphasis on the not wholly impossible thought of reaching God. It is as if he is saying, “If you believe sincerely, and then try hard enough to pray everyday to train spiritual endurance, these simple acts will get you through anything.”
That being said, he still insists that God and Jesus do talk of punishment of sins, but that hell is granted only to those who refuse to believe that they could be living wrongly in anyway, those who are too prideful to admit their sins, and thus fall to hypocrisy. His argument for complementarity is one of the best that I've heard for a very long time: the Complex Being may sometimes fluctuate between extremes, and humans just have to accept that humbly. Still, much easier said than done, which Father O' Malley freely admits.
I agreed with his choice to give only brief summaries of the differences between the Christian sects, and then to emphasize their similarities to push his ideas through. That is a personal preference, though. Food-for-thought and good bedtime reading aside, this book is not for those who are already set in their beliefs or are more than halfway indifferent. It reads first philosophically, and then as one goes on, more academically, so unless the reader has a truly curious mind, he will not stay interested. The Eastern reader may also find Father O'Malley's Western way of thinking off putting, if not disinteresting. As a Western reader with Asian parents, however, I myself found it understandable and straight to the point, complementarity aside.
Review for Hip Logic, by Terrance Hayes
The words feel vibrant off the page. A reader can definitely hear the rhythm and beat of Hayes' lines of poetry in her head. This is a quick, powerful read, full of word play and melodies that reminded me of the jazz and blues songs from the Harlem Renaissance. There was a lot of metaphor though little to no simile, and the imagery was more than compelling. Some alliteration was thrown around, but I'm guessing that Hayes wasn't a fan of that particular poetic device - each poet has personal preferences, after all. There was only one instance in which Hayes played with the way words were spaced out on the page excessively; almost everything else could have been read out loud and performed.
Because Hayes is a minority in America - and I so relate to this - cultural heritage was a theme. Since he is an African American man, there were definite ideas of what being a man is like, or perhaps even should be like. (I didn't say I agreed with these ideas.) Because race and diversity are a continuing aspect of the lives of everyone who is not white and do not feel treated equally in this country, I had a few expectations about the tone and content of literary works like that since early college, and in regards to this poetry, since the first half of the book. I was far more intrigued by the unknown: the themes of fatherhood and loss in the other poems.
The poet wrote tenderly about every child and woman he narrated. You can feel their presence, hear their breaths. His parental figures were certainly a strong influence on his poems - I also relate to this. I appreciated the sense of humor and irony he presented behind his verse. I enjoyed for the most part the play on meanings - public and private - in the two sections labeled "A Gram of &s" but felt that his game was odd and the words were too selective: only a personal preference.
A good read for most modern readers, I would say. This book of poetry is the antithesis to any of the old fashioned European nostalgic and mimic nature type poems, because the lines are short, a bit slappy and sometimes angry. What nostalgia remained came off to me as rueful. While a boon to readers who appreciate a forceful voice and fastpaced rhythm, the book of poetry is probably not for those who read poetry for the wistful kind of pathos that poets like E. E. Cummings would provide.
Because Hayes is a minority in America - and I so relate to this - cultural heritage was a theme. Since he is an African American man, there were definite ideas of what being a man is like, or perhaps even should be like. (I didn't say I agreed with these ideas.) Because race and diversity are a continuing aspect of the lives of everyone who is not white and do not feel treated equally in this country, I had a few expectations about the tone and content of literary works like that since early college, and in regards to this poetry, since the first half of the book. I was far more intrigued by the unknown: the themes of fatherhood and loss in the other poems.
The poet wrote tenderly about every child and woman he narrated. You can feel their presence, hear their breaths. His parental figures were certainly a strong influence on his poems - I also relate to this. I appreciated the sense of humor and irony he presented behind his verse. I enjoyed for the most part the play on meanings - public and private - in the two sections labeled "A Gram of &s" but felt that his game was odd and the words were too selective: only a personal preference.
A good read for most modern readers, I would say. This book of poetry is the antithesis to any of the old fashioned European nostalgic and mimic nature type poems, because the lines are short, a bit slappy and sometimes angry. What nostalgia remained came off to me as rueful. While a boon to readers who appreciate a forceful voice and fastpaced rhythm, the book of poetry is probably not for those who read poetry for the wistful kind of pathos that poets like E. E. Cummings would provide.
Review for Evidence of Red, by Leanne Howe
Evidence of Red is a powerful literary commentary on a part of American history that most history classes just tend to gloss over: the wars for land between the colonists and the Native Americans, and the tribal politics underneath that bigger conflict. What struck me most about the poetry was the vivid imagery and compelling emotions, ranging from bitter irony to blooming rage. The prose caught me off guard with its powerful voice and detailed satirical narrative. Leanne Howe tells readers exactly what she thinks of monotheistic religion, the wars between the different denominations, and the American government's treatment of the American Indian peoples.
She makes fun of everything we think we know about the Native Americans - how connected with nature we think they are, the way we display their ways of life in museums, and concocts two caricatures of the typical depictions of Native Americans: the noble savage and the Indian mascot. A lot of symbolism is also evoked within her short plays, and they illuminate her perspectives on her identity and heritage. The rhythm of the words is fairly erratic, with a new pace for each piece, and that keeps a person reading. There is also a subtext of gender issues written about here, given the number of times that female characters appear, but I can't be certain whether that part is just my overanalysis.
The words that she incorporates from her native tongue are disorienting at first, but once I got used to it, it seems as though all the English words revolve around them. Her descriptions of family and who is related to who in some essays - or prose poetry, it seems hard to classify - are disorienting as well, but that is because I am not familiar with the way Native American culture thinks about family. Most of the concepts, culture, emotions and almost everything in this book would feel new to the average American poetry reader.
I recommend this book to just about everyone, precisely because her words and stories are so disorienting. I feel that everyone must get a taste of her perspective and powerful storytelling, because she spits on the patriotic sentiment that many Americans take for granted. The common reader should read this book to remember the worst that the American government can do, beyond having a faulty intelligence that led the nation into war. This is a history that the public schools and our educational system only gloss over, but a history that the author and her people live with everyday.
She makes fun of everything we think we know about the Native Americans - how connected with nature we think they are, the way we display their ways of life in museums, and concocts two caricatures of the typical depictions of Native Americans: the noble savage and the Indian mascot. A lot of symbolism is also evoked within her short plays, and they illuminate her perspectives on her identity and heritage. The rhythm of the words is fairly erratic, with a new pace for each piece, and that keeps a person reading. There is also a subtext of gender issues written about here, given the number of times that female characters appear, but I can't be certain whether that part is just my overanalysis.
The words that she incorporates from her native tongue are disorienting at first, but once I got used to it, it seems as though all the English words revolve around them. Her descriptions of family and who is related to who in some essays - or prose poetry, it seems hard to classify - are disorienting as well, but that is because I am not familiar with the way Native American culture thinks about family. Most of the concepts, culture, emotions and almost everything in this book would feel new to the average American poetry reader.
I recommend this book to just about everyone, precisely because her words and stories are so disorienting. I feel that everyone must get a taste of her perspective and powerful storytelling, because she spits on the patriotic sentiment that many Americans take for granted. The common reader should read this book to remember the worst that the American government can do, beyond having a faulty intelligence that led the nation into war. This is a history that the public schools and our educational system only gloss over, but a history that the author and her people live with everyday.
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