"A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" by David Foster Wallace

So while reading the "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" essay Jere recommended, I found both curiosity and a tired kind of solace in the author's pity for service workers - the same service workers who are making his cruise (for journalistic purposes) supposedly relaxing and fun, but being the objective reporter he is, he began to analyze and break it down, making it into one of the most existential text about a Caribbean cruise I have ever read.

While pity really does nothing for me, I related to his sympathy for those workers because my other life, when I'm not reviewing/critiquing various texts, is a Target Team Member, of all things. My service work is more emotionally tiring than anything else in the long run, but compare that to these employees who have to scrub disgusting goo and sea muck off the side of a ship, my job is a cakewalk in the park. David Foster Wallace, the author, also goes on to intensely poke through the layers of advertising and fantasy that the brochures and short programs evoke in consumers to lure them into spending thousands on a trip that lasts a week.

As a newbie compared to him, I admire his narrative, ironic and sardonic and cynical but compelling nevertheless, with a cruel sense of humor that I understand. His recollections of his fear of sharks and the ocean remind me of a friend who is also very afraid of sharks, but she takes the drug-using, partying approach against her personal fear of death - drown it out. I imagine that many people in this economy share the fear of death on similar terms as myself: the fear of having done nothing worthwhile for a very long time, which is why we hunt for jobs, and those of us with not-very-satisfactory jobs hunt for careers. It seems to be a hope that these ship cleaners don't get to elaborate on, save the waiter for Table 64, who wants to bring the money home to his family and start his own business of some sort.

Meanwhile, I got distracted by a note where David comments on how Bostonians and New Yorkers have no basic human decency, because I'm from Boston, and according to many people I've spoken to, this means that I was raised in a hell where filth line the streets and hate is strewn all over the air as much as the pollution from the mushroom cloud is. As with all generalizations like this one, there are always exceptions to the rule, and I've also spoken with plenty of people who happen to love Boston, for all its difficulties and quirks and flaws.

The other assertion that David makes is that marketing and its insidious way of telling people what to think is very sinister. I agree, it is very sinister. He backs it up by using how the 7NC's brochures used the author Conroy's "essay" to market itself. However, if one must interpret marketing in this way, then everyone is sinister, including the poor saps in this economy - like myself until recently - who are trying very hard to market themselves to find a job. If looking out for one's self interest is evil, then the entire world is evil, and only the most malleable and humble of personalities are for the greater good. Malleable and humble personalities, however, in my opinion, also generally are not all that ambitious and will not try all that hard for the sake of pride or misguided glory.

David also goes on to log and comment on all the various shows and activities that the cruise ship's programs provide, and how they all fit into the idea of Managed Fun. There were at least several moments during the read where I laughed out loud at the personas that he perceives, as well as his socially awkward tendencies to offend everyone on board the cruise ship who are not accepting of individuality and prefer to conform for the sake of not appearing absurd, even though the customs themselves are absurd. The specific times where he mentions the Alice-Mona dislike at Table 64 reminded me of the comedy of manners to be found in Pride and Prejudice. It sounded like the ship had many relatively rich people who like to measure their own wealth and skill against that of others, particular in the scene involving shooting skeets.

While I got bored at various points during the log because of its obsessive compulsive precision, and also distanced myself because I disliked David the most during the scene where he got beaten at chess by a young girl and then had to go redeem his ego by beating a DJ at ping pong for several rounds (as well as delighting when children got hurt in scenes of Jurassic Park for a day afterward), he regained my attention as the essay was closing because he actually grew more relaxed when the pampering to death is near over. The most memorable and likable scenario was at the end, as he described the hypnotist and his show, where the entertainer hypnotized cruisers for comedy while David hypnotized himself to get away from the entertainer. It brings back the wistful aspect of existential musings, and reminds us that perception has a great deal of power and that we are allowed to control that if our minds can handle it, which is a great turnaround of the beginning of the essay, where we see our surroundings - like the advertising for the cruise - sinisterly cloud us in a specific illusion. Very humanistic, after all.

Review for Hunter's Prayer, by Lilith Saintcrow

Hunter's Prayer has a handful of intricate plot devices, one within another, and then they all click together like a nicely made puzzle with a pretty picture. A good, satisfying read. What seems to be individual cases mesh to become part of a bigger, more intense storyline with higher stakes. There's a bit of offhand foreshadowing too; for instance, the scene where Jill had the class of rookies was to follow up on a seemingly offhand line in the previous book, to explain how Weres transform, and probably to hint at a future event involving one of these rookie cops in a later book.

Lilith Saintcrow again plays on her sense of irony when terrible things happen in church and to religious people. The relationship between Jill and Saul develops further, as par for the course in the romance portion of this heady novel - we will see in the third book whether the two get an actual vacation and get married, or whether a pesky hellbreed called Perry gets in the way. He develops as a character too, getting even more complicated - because of his vague intentions - and more interesting than even Saul as a character, though Saul is still hiding something as well. We still haven't found out what it is about Jill that Perry wants aside from her body, or why he wants to turn her into hellbreed.

The idea of blood sacrifice is very tribal and Mayan, though prostitution is definitely an age old practice. Having the pimps' cowardice and suffering of the whores around again pulls the book back from the fantasy realm, reminding readers that of the cops-and-robbers and noir element of the series. Jill's reaction to each woman that she meets also adds a feminist worldview to our first person narrative, something thrown directly at the adult female audience. There are such people as male prostitutes too, though. There seems to be many characters who are around just to be sources of information for Jill, the cops excluded. Having the spirit creature around to almost-kill Jill and mislead her, when no one knew what it is, seems to be a cheap trick unless the series lasts more than three books, and there are plenty more new made-up creatures to come.

Lilith Saintcrow got my attention when Saul wanted Jill to stay with Perry for the night, for her protection. When Belisa, the Sorrow who killed Mikhail, arrived, the atmosphere came closer to the revenge oriented mindset of kung fu movies, except that she ended up not being the main villainess this time after all. The appearances of Cecilia, and later, the other girls, reminded me of how early young women started dating today, pushed into the fashionable world by consumerism and television icons. The veritable contrast between Jill and these girls seem to illustrate a generation gap, or simply an example of the differences in fate between people for the sheer power of luck.

I think my favorite scene was when Saul, Perry and Jill were all in the same kitchen, being allies and talking over the case in a civil manner, even though Saul and Perry obviously despised each other. It makes for beautiful intrigue and a tense undercurrent, a very specific kind of drama that I enjoy reading about. The following scene, with all the dead bodies in a single room in pieces, reminded me of this really dark game I used to play, called Diablo. There was one demi-boss, the Butcher, that dwelled in a room with an entire floor of bloodied rotting corpses, some of which are held aloft in the air by these spears that were built into the ground. I doubt Lilith Saintcrow has a role-playing game background, but I wouldn't perish the thought.

While I wasn't impressed by Night Shift, Hunter's Prayer made up for it, and I'm looking forward to Redemption Alley, particularly the scenes with Jill and Perry.

Review for Night Shift, by Lilith Saintcrow

While Lilith Saintcrow stays true to the fantasy noir element in this series, the postmodern cyberpunk attitude has been turned down a full couple of notches. The protagonist Jill Kismet is a hunter, a private investigator dealing with incidents involving the fantastical creatures of the night. Again, the author has the first book mainly as introductory interactions of the characters, the world and the society. It feels as if she isn't going too deeply into anything yet, despite the focus on the murder case and the plot revolving around that.

Because I read her Dante Valentine series, I can't help but make a few compare and contrasts in my head. The similarities seem to be that both protagonists have deep psychic wounds from the deaths of others, and maybe as a result tend to fiercely keep friends at bay. For some reason or other, the male leads happen to worm their way into the femme fatales' affections anyway, even if through sheer stubbornness and devotion. Differences involve mostly the general tone of the novel, which seems to be more cynical and wistfully depressed rather than sardonic and nearly stark raving mad. So it's like Saul Dustcircle and Japhrimel are the same person, but Japhrimel is much more powerful. Perry is like Lucifer here, but then there is someone who is equally if not more powerful than him. Mikhail seems to be Jill Kismet's Jace Monroe. Again, the main love interest is introduced in the first book.

While Jill's sanity is a relief to read compared to Dante's mental circles, it also seems less compelling, somehow. The chapters in italics are obviously memories, yet we readers don't really know exactly when they pop up in the context of the rest of the story - maybe they are dreams, because sometimes they happen right after the protagonist falls asleep. Both Jill and Dante firmly grasp onto the notion of being human, as if for dear life. As opposed to Gabe and Eddie's respective psion and Skinlin orientations, the Weres seem to have a more complex honor system and ways of relating to each other. Lilith Saintcrow's protagonists also seem to have a fixation on the sense of smell.

Anyway, aside from my mental comparisons to Dante Valentine, Jill Kismet didn't make much of an impression yet, though I'll admit it must require a really strong will to kill one's pimps, train and be strong and then make a separate living out of that, starting over. Because of Dante, though, Jill now seems like a prototype. The tough-girl default.

By itself, though, Jill would be a quietly bitter tasting broth. The text kept telling me that the case she was dealing with was unusual, the patterns didn't fit. Since this was the readers' first time into this world as this was the first book of this series, the thought doesn't register as well as it should, because I don't have a norm to compare this to. I am reading and being told that these semi supernatural beings act a certain way, and that the norm for them doesn't fit with the details of the case, but I didn't even have time to get used to the idea of the norm for them yet. All in all, I wasn't particularly impressed with this particular book, but there are far less obvious references - maybe they're getting more subtle - so I'm holding out in the hopes that the second book in this series would give me more to think about.

Review for Blood Promise, by Richelle Mead

Blood Promise is the fourth book of a series, and the other titles can be found here. Richelle Mead specializes in writing stories that keep their upbeat attitude and slightly sarcastic sense of humor, despite putting her characters through excruciating danger. The plot progresses quickly, and the summarization for previous books, as well as character development, happens so lightly that it's hard to notice. For this reason, these books make for very light reading - I finished this one book within less than two days. A real page turner, very entertaining.

Having a strong main character seems to affect more aspects of a story than I imagined. The plot cannot move as fast without someone who is very determined. If Rose didn't have a strong and defiant will, she might have fallen in some battles before this, or worse, decided to stay and become Dimitri's pet blood whore. Or even stayed with the Belikovs, to live out a quiet life as a suburban dhampir. That's not nearly as likely though, because someone named Abe kept seeking her out when she was in that town.

While Richelle Mead is very good at plot twists, the tone of the story made it clear that things were on the upturn since Rose's decision to leave St. Vladimir and seek out Dimitri again. At the end of the previous book, because of Dimitri's depart and Rose's leaving Lissa behind, it was a sort of a sour note. However, when this book began, Rose seemed impatient, but not despairing. Having Dimitri find her and confine her was a definite plot twist, though. There's something about the fantasy action romance genre books that I've been reading lately - these authors love their hot male characters. I suppose it's because males in reality aren't up to par; which woman wouldn't want a physically strong and emotionally devoted man by her side?

The science of spirit becomes more and more interesting, as it is the main difference between Moroi and Strigoi. Spirit users seem to have almost schizophrenic tendencies. Because these are fantasy novels, such things aren't very clearly explained, lending to their mystique. The way that Rose couldn't resist using her mind to keep checking in on Lissa almost made sure that Lissa would be back in Rose's life too. It was a bit of an obvious foreshadowing, but one that I didn't mind, because it made Rose's journey less lonely, more eventful, and was even helpful in passing the time when she was confined by Dimitri. But it also served the second plot of Avery's designs on Lissa. Not many authors can juggle two plots, so applause to Richelle Mead.

Her style is such that a lot of attention is given to character interaction, so that her descriptions of settings are just enough that they hold up to the future events in the plot. When Dimitri took Rose for that walk, I already knew that she would have a chance to escape - both because the plot needed to move along, and also because most of the time this author didn't bother with descriptions of the setting in much detail unless the character would need to use it within a few chapters. Those chapters may also serve to emphasize the fates of blood whores, the disgust for which most of that world holds these blood whores, Dimitri's feelings (or lack thereof, in this case) for Rose, and to illustrate more of the differences between Moroi and Strigoi.

Given what readers already knew of Dimitri's original character, his actions here speak volumes about the physical and psychic transition of a being turned into a Strigoi. The Strigoi seem to be the werewolves of that vampire world, because of their sense of fierce competition, which is so absolute that two Strigoi are hard put to work together. They also seem to operate mainly through the senses, very animal-like, with no real comprehension of feelings and higher reasoning. It is as Dimitri said, "Predator and prey." If this were more a sci fi novel than a fantasy one, one of them would be captured and taken in for physical and psychological analyses. Readers' beloved Dimitri has become the most interesting anti-hero/villain for the next few books.

Another intriguing character was Abe. I wonder for what purpose he thought Rose really had come to Russia. And while dangerous, this arc struck me as a peculiar study-abroad type of experience for Rose, only it was for love and funded by Adrian's family money. If Dimitri didn't come back, I can see Rose getting together with Adrian, now that she developed some respect for him because of his protective nature of Lissa. I also wonder what Queen Tatiana's powers were, and wouldn't mind Lissa becoming as powerful as Avery is. Intricate friendships require all sorts of emotions, and the guilty aspect of Rose's leaving Lissa when she was searching for Dimitri was very touching and real to me. I thought it was something that everyone must experience after they leave school.

Review for To Hell and Back, by Lilith Saintcrow

While I waited impatiently at the end of the previous book to finally return to this arc, now that the entire series is finished, I'm not sure what to say. Peculiar, isn't it? From the graphic descriptions of Dante's injuries in the first and second chapters, and the eerie silence that she keeps tightly controlled over her mind, we can infer what happened. It seems as though she has been broken, and compared to this rage-filled mournful silence, I'd somewhat missed the voice of the sarcastic pessimist through which she thought of everything. Because of this, however, the descriptions of the towns and cities that the characters travel are more noticeable to me, setting the stage for every few chapters, and honestly making me wish I were better traveled. The only reprieve Dante got this time was the chapter in which she and Leander Beaudry toured a city with Japhrimel behind them, stopping to buy goods.

It occurs to me now - should have before, really - that the changes in the names of cities are to reflect the way languages change, considering that this is set around several hundred years into the future. Given the historical outline that the author gives us about any city every time before any character interaction or action begins, it feels like an odd kind of reverse historical fiction. The way that differences in religion across the world hardly matters anymore in this picture, and the reliance on oil has become a reliance on atomic power, answers two of the most pressing concerns to the present political climate. (Though I take the author's word when she says that she is not trying to discuss anything controversial in these stories.)

Most of the character interaction between Japhrimel and Dante led towards the point where all her questions are answered when Sephrimel took the object out of her body. Danny now knows why Japhrimel refuses to answer any of the questions - it is shame. There is also a reversal in the way that when Sephrimel gave her the Knife, Danny is no longer helpless against demons. Now that he does answer the questions, it is like one of those old sayings about not asking questions that one doesn't truly want the answers to. Another thing is that the presence of Jace Monroe's voice in her head is gone after Sephrimel, and I didn't know that he and the others still existed until they fought Lucifer. Jace was there to reinforce Danny's humanity, and he still does.

Here is another question without answers: why were the Anhelikos hostile, and in that world, is there a Christian god - since there is a Christian devil?

Another silly idea that occurs to me is that Danny might be afraid of vampires because of the blood connection - like they are a race of nocturnal, incredibly charismatic, giant mosquitos. With fangs instead of the sucking tube. That object inside of Danny also made Lucifer remind me of the creatures from the movie Alien, the way wasps attack caterpillars and breed inside them. Perhaps the author wanted to reinforce the complete inhumanity - in either animal or in terms of evil - most demons really are, reinforcing Japhrimel's warnings for her not to stray from his suffocating protection.

He also seems to understand that she can't help siding with Eve, accepting their differences with a shrug, even as he is furiously possessive. A possessiveness that kept her alive, and made him jealous and suspicious ("Did you accept anything from Lucifer?"), and understanding because for the longest time, Lucifer broke him too. His explanations of his disobedience long before Dante was born seems to be the one thing they have in common: they are both stubborn, and even when broken, will never give in or give up, though his methods and subtlety must come from staying alive in Hell for so long.

It felt like all the books with arcs other than the main plot did not have to occur, until Danny fought Lucifer and a Necromance's natural protections came to the fore. It was also a set up so that Dante's relationships with her god and goddess - Sekmet was given much less time, but because of her temper I'm sure they would have gotten along anyway - can be developed. While Eve was a major player and someone Danny fought to protect, I am not sure she mattered in the end, given that Lucifer can remove all the traces of Doreen and Danny from her being.

Second question here I don't actually want answered: what is Japhrimel's true form?

It was a pity that Leander Beaudry never came back. Danny was half kidding when she said she regarded him a toy (to Japhrimel's relief), but even with his betrayal and indirectly working for Lucifer, I think she would have forgiven him enough for them to be friends, given that she forgave Lucas without much of a second thought. And Lucifer and Hell's agents controlling the world is a good fodder idea for any conspiracy theorist. McKinley may also be a good friend, despite his ideas of how Japhrimel's and Dante's relationship should be. (Why doesn't he smell like demon?) What's Kgembe's role? And now all Dante's living friends are Japhrimel's mutual friends.

Third question not to be answered: Why are demons physically bound to their human wives so much that time away from them makes them starved and gaunt? This happened to both Japhrimel and Lucifer. It seems as though it has an effect on the females too, as Danny longed for Japhrimel when he was dead. Should I suspect that Eve would have that same reaction as well, far into the future after that epilogue in which Lucifer has turned into an urn of ash? (Could the story have been wrapped up if Eve had not seduced Lucifer, thus robbing him of a good portion of his power?)

The one thing that Lilith Saintcrow unequivocably doesn't refrain from saying through these stories is that people change a lot in their relationships. They are never easy, especially romantic relationships, with a heavy undercurrent of bargaining for power and distrust that all parties involved must overcome. This one point makes this series unique to me, the complete lack of shying away from deep, detailed character interactions and their complete emotional consequences, an accurate reflection of many things that happen between people in reality.