tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66642694650963837242024-03-14T03:22:40.266-04:00Hey Look! Books!I make no guarantees regarding spoilers. Read at your own risk.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-77044303064373401922016-06-22T15:45:00.000-04:002016-06-22T15:46:42.926-04:00The Road Not Taken<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Frost" target="_blank">Robert Frost</a><br />
<br />
This is easily one of the <a href="http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2015/09/11/the-most-misread-poem-in-america/" target="_blank">most popular and most misunderstood</a> poems of all time. I remember my favorite teacher in middle school, who I am still in contact with, had a poster with the final three lines of this poem on it. I thought it was so cheesy that I deliberately chose a desk to sit at where I would not have to see the poster during class. If you couldn't tell by my previous posts, I despise sentimentality. Makes me want to hurl.<br />
<br />
Anyway, on with the mocking!<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">You know that warm, fuzzy feeling you get when you read familiar lines of poetry? If you've got it right now, kill it. Statistically speaking, this ain't the line you know. The line you know is all the way down in the fourth stanza. If this poem were a person, you'd be standing there saying to it, "you're a strong, independent poem," and it would be all like, "you don't know me. You don't know my life!"</span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And sorry I could not travel both</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And be one traveler, long I stood</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And looked down one as far as I could</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>To where it bent in the undergrowth;</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">One thing I've got to say for Frost: unlike <a href="http://ankbooks.blogspot.com/2015/05/the-childrens-hour.html" target="_blank">Longfellow</a>, he can use rhythm and rhyme so deftly that you barely even notice it, if you're reading the poem correctly. If you're one of those assholes who reads lines of poems like each line is a sentence by itself, then I want to gouge your eyes out, you poem-ruining piece of shit.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">Anyway, two roads. Can't split yourself in two, so instead of going anywhere, you just stand there like a dumbass. Gotcha. What's next? </span><i> </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Then took the other, as just as fair,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And having perhaps the better claim,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Because it was grassy and wanted wear;</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">All right, so you took the nicer one, the one with the "better claim." Although you just said it's "just as fair." Methinks you're a wee bit of an indecisive bastard, Robert. </span><i><br /></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Though as for that, the passing there</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Had worn them really about the same,</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">So... that "better claim" line was just bullshit? </span><i><br /></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And both that morning equally lay</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>In leaves no step had trodden black.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">Yep. We've clearly established here that the path you took was grassy and the Road Not Taken bent in the undergrowth and aside from that there is no fucking significant difference between the two paths. </span><i> </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Oh, I kept the first for another day!</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Yet knowing how way leads on to way,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>I doubted if I should ever come back.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">If it's that important to you, Robert, maybe you should just pencil in a time to go down that road later. No biggie. Just simple time-management rather than aimless wandering. No wonder you're just a fucking poet.</span><i> </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: purple;"><i>I shall be telling this with a sigh</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Somewhere ages and ages hence:</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>I took the one less traveled by,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And that has made all the difference.</i></span><br />
<br />
Ah, there's those familiar lines, so deeply cherished by - wait, WHAT? So this whole fucking poem is just about you predicting that you'll be a fucking grand-standing liar in the future? "Oh, <i>I</i> did things differently than all you sheeple. Because I'm <i>smarter</i> than you." Damn, man, fuck you.<br />
<br />
There's an<a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/jul/29/robert-frost-edward-thomas-poetry" target="_blank"> interesting backstory</a> to this poem. Frost wrote it after spending a few months with a friend of his, Edward Thomas. They went for many walks together, and apparently Thomas had a habit of lingering at forks in the road and regretting not taking the other path. After writing it, Frost sent Thomas this poem, meaning it as a friendly jest. But Thomas took offense. (Of course he did, Robert! You sent him a poem wherein you characterized him as a lying, indecisive, self-absorbed, holier-than-thou prick.) This situation may have been the final straw in Thomas's decision to go fight in WWI, where he died.<br />
<br />
Good job, Mr. Frost! You killed your friend with this poem! </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-16748356061391112052015-05-18T14:41:00.001-04:002015-05-18T15:38:00.912-04:00Opportunity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Rowland_Sill" target="_blank">Edward Rowland Sill</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Before I get started here, I just want to state that I actually quite like this poem. It will not always be the case, as with "The Children's Hour," that works I make fun of are works I dislike. Heck, Shakespeare will probably end up on here one day (cuz fuck Romeo and Juliet).<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: --</i></span><br />
<br />
<i> </i>We're off to a good start here! The man doesn't even know if this actually happened, or if he dreamed it. Either we've got some opium use going on, or Sill's got some majorly realistic dreams. Either way, this line is pure filler. It doesn't matter one bit if the events of the poem are supposed to have happened in real life or in the author's head. It's just a goddamned poem, we all know it's not really "real." You've only got three fucking stanzas here! If you must preface your poem with this kind of shit, pick which one you want the reader to temporarily believe, then write a better opening line that establishes that premise. Or, better yet, just <b>get on with it!</b><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><i>There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;"> You're waffling again, Eddy. Underneath it, in it, who cares? Pick one, go with it, and stick to the point of the poem. You're distracting us with this "either this or that" crap. </span><i><br /></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.</i></span><br />
<br />
A reminder, for those of you not-so-familiar with 19th-century poetry: Princes are ALWAYS good guys. Even when the author is American. Kings can go both ways (though they are generally good), but princes are like fairies: glittery and perfect.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>A craven hung along the battle's edge,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel --</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>That blue blade that the king's son bears -- but this </i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Blunt thing!" --he snapped and flung it from his hand.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And lowering crept away and left the field.</i></span><br />
<br />
When I first read this, I was really hoping that that flung sword would serendipitously hit someone important, perhaps the aforementioned prince. Sorry to spoil your expectations, but no. It's not a Modernist poem. Also, dude, if your sword is blunt, sharpen it. Ain't nobody wants to deal with your pussy shit.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And saved a great cause that heroic day.</i></span><br />
<br />
I understand that this poem is supposed to be all about using whatever you have at hand, making the best of a bad situation, hence the title and all.... but that pussy from the second stanza saved the day here. If he hadn't have <a href="https://youtu.be/ud7YNNA0Mwo" target="_blank">gallantly chickened out</a>, the prince would have had no sword, broken or otherwise, to stumble upon. He most likely would have been killed. Even if the craven fellow had found his balls and jumped into battle, most likely he would have quickly floundered and fallen, dropping his sword in a different spot where the valiant prince was not, thus resulting in the loss of the "great cause," whatever that may be.<br />
So, it seems the moral one could glean from this is something along the lines of, "If you know you're a worthless bastard, go ahead and chicken out! Someone else, someone inherently better than you, may very well pick up where you left off and do what you're naturally incapable of! It all works out in the end with you safe and sound, away from all the nastiness." Applying this unintended moral to the poem, I also notice a strong odor of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Social_Darwinism" target="_blank">Social Darwinism</a> reeking from between the lines.<br />
<br />
<br />
And so it is that you can offend someone, somewhere, sometime, with anything and everything that comes out of your mouth or pen.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-56891343327887352962015-05-06T13:17:00.000-04:002015-05-06T13:18:18.489-04:00The Children's Hour<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow" target="_blank">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</a><br />
<br />
What utter sentimental crap.<br />
My mother used to read this poem to me when I was a child, and I've always hated it, so I figure this is a good one to start this new venture on. Presumably, she thought that, because I was a child, I would appreciate a poem about children. I didn't. (I wanted her to flip the pages of her slim volume of poetry a few to the right and read "The Raven," which has a beautiful musical quality to it even if you don't get the allusions or understand quite what is happening.) <br />
The entirety of the poem is quoted here, in purple italics. Let us begin.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Between the dark and the daylight,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> When the light is beginning to lower,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Comes a pause in the day's occupations</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> That is known as the Children's Hour.</i></span><br />
<br />
Oh God, you just know this is going to be awful. "THIS IS A POEM. IT HAS METER AND RHYME LIKE A NURSERY RHYME BECAUSE IT'S ABOUT CHILDREN, SEE?" Not to mention, for a first stanza that rhyme is just damned lazy. Throughout this whole poem, Longfellow doesn't really seem to care about when he uses lazy rhymes or perfect rhymes, like he never even wanted to write this poem in the first place. Well, you know what, Henry? We all wish you hadn't.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>I hear in the chamber above me</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> The patter of little feet,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>The sound of a door that is opened,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> And voices soft and sweet.</i></span><br />
<br />
Did he seriously just write "the patter of little feet?" Shoot me now. "Voices soft and sweet?" For a man who was married twice and had six kids, you'd think he never even met any children.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>From my study I see in the lamplight,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> Descending the broad hall stair,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Grave Alice and laughing Allegra,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> And Edith with golden hair</i>.</span><br />
<br />
I have to feel bad for Edith here. Alice and Allegra (you named your daughter after an allergy medication? She must have been born in spring...) have at least something of a personality, but poor Edith just has a hair color. Maybe being blonde was considered a personality trait in those days?<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>A whisper, and then silence;</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> Yet I know by their merry eyes,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>They are plotting and planning together</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> To take me by surprise.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;"><i>A sudden rush from the stairway,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> A sudden raid from the hall!</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>By three doors left unguarded</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> They enter my castle wall!</i></span><br />
<br />
Please tell me I'm not the only one who sees a rape metaphor here. Goddamned rape culture. It's getting into stupid poems about children now. Oh, and speaking of metaphors...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>They climb up into my turret,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> O'er the arms and back of my chair;</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>If I try to escape, they surround me;</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> They seem to be everywhere.</i></span><br />
<br />
What a weak line, "they seem to be everywhere!" That's like a go-to filler line for people who suck at writing poetry. Sure, write it down so you can move on, but you gotta <b>go back and replace it with something better</b>, Henry! It's called proofreading, darling. Try it sometime.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>They almost devour me with kisses,</i></span><br />
<br />
(I wish they had, so you wouldn't have written this stupid poem...)<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"> <i> Their arms about me entwine,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine.</i></span><br />
<br />
Do you often find yourself thinking about the Bishop of Bingen, Henry? That seems like a strange person for your mind to wander towards. Oh wait, you're just making sure you reach the minimum quota for historical/literary allusions required by 19th-century poets, aren't you? Because I'll tell ya, having to stop to look up the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mouse_Tower" target="_blank">Bishop of Bingen</a> while reading a worthless sentimental poem really ruins <i>the mood</i>, ya know? It takes away from the experience of your poem, such as it is. Then again, a story about a douchebag who's eaten alive by mice is a <i>heck</i> of a lot more interesting than this!<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> Because you have scaled the wall,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Such an old mustache as I am</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> Is not a match for you all?</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;"><i>I have you fast in my fortress,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> And will not let you depart,</i></span><br />
<br />
(Here's where the panic sets in... "what rhymes with 'depart' other than the inevitable? Oh God, oh God, he's not going to - ?!")<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>But put you down into the dungeon</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> In the round-tower of my heart</i>.</span><br />
<br />
NOOOOO!!! Ick. Sentimental bullshit. OK, just one more stanza to go. We can do this.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>And there will I keep you forever,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> Yes, forever and a day,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Till the wall shall crumble to ruin,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i> And moulder in dust away. </i></span><br />
<br />
Vomit-inducing. Ugh.<br />
<br />
I know Longfellow never really was one for introspective, philosophical, or even mildly intelligent poetry, but this! This poem is the epitome of middle-aged, middle-class, safe-and-easy, heart-string-pulling<b> crap</b>. Totally and utterly worthless.<br />
<br />
Fuck this poem and everything it stands for.<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-72816807441677588402015-05-04T09:05:00.000-04:002015-05-11T12:12:39.494-04:00Change of Plan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, obviously, I haven't been updating this blog in, like, years. College was happening, sorry. And... buying a house and.. God, how long has it been since my last update here? Damn.<br />
<br />
Anyway, my husband came up with a great blog idea the other night, based on some of the conversations I've had with him about literature. I have some very strong opinions about books and poems and plays that are considered "classics" and capital-I "Important." After all, I do have a Bachelor's in English. Oftentimes, though, my more negative opinions spill out of my mouth laced with expletives and curses upon the now-dead author. I mean, have you <i>read</i> <u>Moby Dick</u>? It is probably the most boring, long-winded piece of shit I have ever slogged through. Its sole redeeming feature is Chapter 95. But it must be read; it's capital-I "Important." And I don't argue that. It has had a lot of influence on our culture, and in summary it creates a beautiful metaphor for life. But it's a terrible read.<br />
<br />
So, basically, I will still be reviewing books here (and poems and plays), but I won't be giving star-ratings, I won't be reviewing new things, and I won't be dwelling too long on the positive aspects of whatever I'm reviewing.<br />
<br />
I hope to update about once a month, maybe more often if I'm feeling particularly opinionated.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-31478264747734841562012-01-10T21:55:00.001-05:002015-05-04T09:08:05.033-04:00Oryx and Crake<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by Margaret Atwood<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0385721676/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0385721676" target="_blank">Buy the book here.</a><br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
<i>Plot: Snowman, a lone survivor of a human extinction event struggles to survive while reminiscing on how it all came to be. He is in charge of caring for a group of genetically-altered humanoids called "the Children of Crake." </i><br />
<br />
Fantastic! This is the first book I have read by Margaret Atwood, and I can't wait to read more. <u>Oryx and Crake</u> is a deftly handled cross between the Adam & Eve story, a post-apocalyptic horrorland, Orwellian distopia, conspiracy theory, and memoir. The ending leaves the reader wanting more from this fantastic yet all-too-familiar world, and fortunately Atwood has delivered with a sequel, <u>The Year of the Flood</u>.<br />
Characterization is handled amazingly well, considering what she gave herself to work with. Without giving much away, I will mention that one character is a pure-science genius asshole, another refuses to say a bad thing about anyone, ever, there are environmentalist fanatics, a father who routinely forgets his son's birthday, and the main character is highly unsympathetic as well. But for all that, and likely because of all that, it remains very believable. The reader finds him/herself relating to Snowman/Jimmy's basic selfish, ugly humanity.<br />
The most chilling part of the story, for me at least, are the pigoons. Pigoons are pigs that were genetically engineered to grow human organs. Encountering them in a laboratory setting was unnerving enough for me, but then I have a slight fear of pigs (thank you, Lord of the Flies). When Snowman crosses paths with them in the wild, things get zombie-like quickly, but pigoons are smart and fast, so it's worse.<br />
You absolutely must read this book.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-49394446396550316572011-12-29T13:29:00.001-05:002012-01-13T10:55:23.932-05:00The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With the Sea<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by Yukio Mishima<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0679750150/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0679750150" target="_blank">Buy the book here.</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0000YEE1C/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0000YEE1C" target="_blank">Buy the movie version.</a><br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
<i>Plot: The story of a widowed mother and her thirteen-year-old son. The mother falls in love with a sailor. Her son runs with a group of boys trying to detach themselves from emotion. Tragic ending.</i><br />
<br />
It's like <u>Lord of the Flies</u>! There are wonderfully uncomfortable Oedipal overtones, tons of philosophy from a young boy's point of view, and murder. In many ways, however, it tends to be much more frightening than <u>Lord of the Flies</u> because this novel takes place within society rather than needing to be removed from it before horrible things start happening. But it is also less harrowing because the character in danger can get away from it easily, if he were to see it. <br />
I found myself sympathizing with the main character, Noboru Kuroda, the son mentioned in the plot. I had many similar feelings around that age. It felt sometimes like the world was conspiring against me on an emotional level and the best solution was to simply have no emotions at all.<br />
I quite liked this book and would like to read it again someday. The copy I just read is from the public library, however, so I will have to buy a copy for my personal library.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-34970906927854681232011-12-08T11:21:00.001-05:002011-12-08T11:34:09.669-05:00The Chimes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by Charles Dickens<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1461036836/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1461036836" target="_blank">Buy the book here</a>.<br />
<br />***<br />
<br />
<i>Plot:A poor man tries to make an honest living. One night he has a dream about dying and being shown the future by the spirits who live in the bell tower of a church. Things work out fine.</i><br />
<br />
This story was written by Dickens because he was required to write another holiday story as part of a contract with a new publisher. It shows. The story feels rushed in some places (he wrote it in mere months, with a strict deadline) and lacks the overall charm typical of a Dickens piece. Unlike <a href="http://ankbooks.blogspot.com/2011/11/christmas-carol.html" target="_blank">A Christmas Carol</a>, no lessons are learned here and no one lives their lives differently because of the spirits. It simply shows some unfortunate things that COULD have happened, had the poor characters taken the advice of the rich characters. But none of the poor people in the story were likely to have actually taken the advice of the rich people to begin with. It's all just some silly dream.<br />
The tone is preachy. I know Dickens always had a message in his stories and it's impossible to ignore that message when reading. But he was usually able to straddle the thin line between getting his point across and still being entertaining. It's not a bad story, but had he taken some more time to smooth things over, build characters a little less obviously, and slow down the pace, this could have jumped back on that aforementioned line and been a truly great story.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-58911571737607382792011-11-30T11:55:00.001-05:002011-12-08T11:41:30.477-05:00A Christmas Carol<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by Charles Dickens<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1440495149/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399373&creativeASIN=1440495149" target="_blank">Buy the book here.</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000SR0DDE/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399369&creativeASIN=B000SR0DDE" target="_blank">Buy the movie version.</a><br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
<i>Plot: A mean and stingy old man is haunted by a series of ghosts on Christmas Eve, causing him to change his entire life for the better. Yay, happy ending!</i><br />
<br />
Let me start by saying that I love Christmas. The very idea of Christmas makes me all kinds of warm and happy inside. I also love Charles Dickens. His style of writing, his nomenclature, his intricate plots that always, always work out without anything left hanging: all provide a rich and rewarding reading experience. Being a novella, <u>A Christmas Carol</u> doesn't have an intricate plot. It's more similar to a fairy tale than a typical Dickens novel. We're all familiar with the plot; we've seen it interpreted a million different ways from The Muppets to Doctor Who to every sitcom in existence. And like a true fairy tale, it never gets old and the moral is rarely lost in translation.<br />
Most recently, I read <u>A Christmas Carol</u> during my breaks at work over the Thanksgiving rush (I work at a grocery store). It certainly helped to keep me in good spirits. I cannot possibly praise this book enough, but it also feels unnecessary to comment on it, considering how thoroughly this story has permeated our culture, our language, and especially the last two months of every calendar year. And so I won't comment on it. I will simply leave this here to encourage you to read it.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-87781319350014145542011-01-17T09:38:00.000-05:002011-11-29T12:36:35.576-05:00Frankenstein<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by Mary Shelley<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0393964582/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0393964582" target="_blank">Buy the book here.</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0001CNRLQ/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B0001CNRLQ" target="_blank">Buy the movie version. </a><br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
<i>Plot: A man creates life, which in turn seeks to destroy him and everything he loves.</i><br />
<br />
The main thing that struck me about this book is that while it may be easy to label the "monster" as the bad guy, Victor Frankenstein is not innocent himself. He created the creature, then abandoned it. All the terrible things that happened to him were entirely of his doing. If he had taken the time to realize that this newly created life was his responsibility and had treated and nurtured it according to that responsibility none of his loved ones would have been murdered. Only once during the entire course of the novel does he even hint that the creature's disposition and not just its existence is his fault, and that's just before he dies.<br />
It's easy to label the creature as the "bad guy" but I beg to differ. He knows no different. He had observed love and kindness toward others, but horror, violence and disgust were the only things he ever saw directed toward himself. How could he possibly be expected to know the difference between right and wrong? He shows evidence of knowing that what he does is wrong, but only on a theoretical level. Like a child, he cannot just be told that certain things are right and others are wrong, he must be shown those principles through the actions of those around him.<br />
Naturally the second thing that struck me was that the novel's plot is nothing like the plot of the original movie. I do feel that the movie held true to the theme and moral of the novel, though.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-22740033316059710952011-01-12T14:06:00.001-05:002011-11-29T12:32:20.576-05:00All Things Bright and Beautiful<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by James Herriot<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0312330863/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0312330863" target="_blank">Buy it here. </a><br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<i>Plot: The adventures and misadventures of a newly-wed country vet</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
This book is a sequel to <u>All Creatures Great and Small</u> which I have also read and quite enjoyed. I didn't like this one as much as its predecessor, but it was still a good read. Like the first book, this one is a compilation of humorous and/or emotional stories from James Herriot's real life. While <u>All Creatures Great and Small</u> took place between the time that he first joined the country practice fresh out of vet school until he married, <u>All Things Bright and Beautiful</u> picks up shortly after his marriage and contains stories from then until he leaves to serve in WWII. The author deftly avoids mentioning the war except where necessary and focuses all his attention on the day-to-day mishaps and wonders of the practice.<br />
<br />
Overall, the book is good. Not life-changing, hardly thought-provoking, just a light-hearted snippet of life. I do look forward to reading the rest of the series someday but the reason I gave 3 stars rather then 4 is because I would not recommend this book to everyone. Only for those with a real love for animals and who can handle the surgery scenes without losing their lunch.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-49252448987386756222010-04-21T13:51:00.000-04:002011-11-29T12:34:14.665-05:00To Kill A Mockingbird<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by Harper Lee<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0061743526/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0061743526" target="_blank">Buy the book here.</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0783225857/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0783225857" target="_blank">Buy the movie version. </a> <br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
<i>Plot: On the surface, it's about a couple kids getting into trouble because of their recluse neighbor, and their father getting into trouble because he's the lawyer defending a black man in Depression-era Alabama.</i><br />
<br />
Well, since most people are required to read this book in school, including myself, I really don't think there's much I can say about it that hasn't been over-analyzed time and again in classrooms across the nation. I certainly recommend this book to anyone and everyone, but I don't think I could ever count it as one of my favorite books of all time simply because I did originally read it in school, and it was over-analyzed in class. As a matter of fact, this book is the reason I failed 10th grade English. We had this packet of questions we were supposed to answer, with 5 questions or so for each chapter. They were stupid questions. I didn't answer them.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-81931854784528355242010-03-04T22:12:00.000-05:002011-11-29T12:37:31.747-05:00Passage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by Connie Willis<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0553580515/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0553580515" target="_blank">Buy the book here. </a><br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
<i>Plot: A woman is researching near-death experiences.</i><br />
<br />
I didn't put much in the plot because, despite my "no guarantee concerning spoilers" policy, I really don't want to give anything away with this one. Here, I'll just quote what the back of the book says:<br />
<br />
<i>"Dr. Joanna Lander is a psychologist specializing in near-death experiences. She is about to get help from a new doctor with the power to give her the chance to get as close to death as anyone can. A brilliant young neurologist, Dr. Richard Wright has come up with a way to manufacture the near-death experience using a psychoactive drug. Joanna's first NDE is as fascinating as she imagined - so astounding that she knows she must go back, if only to find out why that place is so hauntingly familiar. But each time Joanna goes under, her sense of dread begins to grow, because part of her already knows why the experience is so familiar, and why she has every reason to be afraid. Yet just when Joanna thinks she understands, she's in for the biggest surprise of all - a shattering scenario that will keep you feverishly reading until the final climactic page." </i><br />
<br />
"Feverishly reading" is right. This book is 780 pages long, and I finished it in 9 days. It's addictive. Even when I did walk away from it, my mind never did. To a certain extent, even almost a week after finishing it, I'm still just as much engrossed. I want to read it again, to spot clues I missed the first time through. While it holds many stylistic similarities to the other Connie Willis book I've read, <u>To Say Nothing of the Dog</u>, the subject matter is completely different and the ending is much less satisfying. At the end of this book, you're left hanging. Many questions remain unanswered, impossible to answer. It's the nature of the subject matter, really. Willis could have gone on to explain the afterlife or lack thereof in great detail, à la <u>What Dreams May Come</u> or <u>Jonathan Livingston Seagull</u>, but that wouldn't have been appropriate. The whole concept of <u>Passage</u> is not knowing. It's all about unanswered questions and how we cope with knowing that we can't know.<br />
<br />
I recommend this book to everyone who plans on dying. If you don't plan on dying, you're in some serious denial and I recommend this book to you even more urgently.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6664269465096383724.post-80509220772019213582010-02-27T15:16:00.005-05:002011-11-29T12:38:27.185-05:00Pride & Prejudice & Zombies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1594743347/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=helobo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1594743347" target="_blank">Buy the book here. </a><br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<i>Plot: A family with five daughters trained in mortal combat live in Regency England, which has been over-run with zombies. When the girls aren't sending the damned souls back to the fires of Hell, they're trying to find husbands.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
Let me start off by saying that before reading this book I had never read <u>Pride and Prejudice</u> or anything else written by Jane Austen, nor do I plan to without it having been improved by the addition of zombies or sea monsters or whatnot. From what I gather, all her stories are about silly girls chasing after guys in Regency England. In other words: pointless and boring. <u>Pride & Prejudice & Zombies</u> is equally pointless, but at least it's not boring.<br />
<br />
I didn't really start caring about the characters until about the middle of the book, when Mr. Darcy proposes to Elizabeth (and she beats the shit out of him.) The only reason I continued reading past page 50 or so was for the zombie scenes. I'm glad I did, though. The ending is superb, and I say that as a person who hates happy endings. There are no happy endings in life; everyone dies eventually.<br />
<br />
Aside from Austen's basic flawed plot concept, the only thing I can really complain about is how the revisions were added. I found myself continually looking for the seams in the story - trying to separate the original story from the zombie mayhem. On a superficial level, it was easy (probably too easy, sometimes it felt like Seth Grahame-Smith was trying too hard to stick in a zombie reference), but in some areas I puzzled over what had been omitted, and was distracted from the novel as it stands. Hopefully, it's just me having not read the original and being a little too nerdy for my own good, rather than a fundamental flaw in the writing style. Unfortunately, there is no way for me to answer that for you; you'll have to read the book to find out for yourself.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0