|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
my rating |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0345534417
| 9780345534415
| 0345534417
| 3.61
| 13,549
| Jul 01, 2012
| Jul 10, 2012
|
liked it
|
I'll bet you never thought you would see an intergalactic alien thriller that all centered on the intricacies of copyright law, did you? Well, if that
I'll bet you never thought you would see an intergalactic alien thriller that all centered on the intricacies of copyright law, did you? Well, if that's what you've been waiting for, then this is the book you want to read. The universe, as it turns out, is well-populated with other civilizations. Some of them are nearly human in appearance, others are so radically unlike us that they're hard to imagine, much less talk to. Giant snails, two-dimensional beings, foul-mouthed parrots and bio-machine intelligences - all of these and more make up the Refined League, the greatest political entity in the universe. In order to become part of the League, your civilization has to first prove that it can overcome the violent urges that lead so many intelligent cultures to self-extinction. Once it has done that, the League provides it with technology so advanced that it may as well be magic, allowing the new members to completely solve their technological problems and instead focus their energies on creative and cultural works. And that is where the League shines brightly. Their artistic sense is so far beyond ours that were we to see it in its full flower our brains would likely shut down from the beauty. Their art and architecture, cinema and drama, fashion, food - hell, their calligraphy and paper-making are works of art that make our great masters look like toddlers drawing stick figures in the mud. In nearly all respects, the Refined League outclasses humanity. Except, as it turns out, for music. Thanks to some twist in our evolution, we are the only civilization capable of creating truly great music. Indeed, the first music heard by an alien culture - the closing credits song to "Welcome Back, Kotter" - was so amazing and so powerful that countless individuals died from ecstasy overload. As the universe turned its ears towards Earth, they discovered what they had been missing all along, and were soon tapping into our radio and TV broadcasts to get copies of the greatest music ever made. The discovery of Earth's music was so pivotal to the cultural history of the universe, that the League reset their calendars to reflect it, thus making October 13, 1977 the beginning of Year Zero. For decades, Earth music was recorded and copied and passed along. And while it did still occasionally kill people with its beauty and glory, those who survived cherished the gift we were unknowingly giving to them. While we were not yet prepared to join the League, we were the center of the universe. Until the law got involved. The central governing principle of the League is that indigenous laws must be respected, no matter what. It wasn't until our songs had been copied over hundreds of millions of times that the League discovered the incredibly draconian and torturous copyright laws that govern music on our planet, and the heavy fines that are imposed for piracy. Under U.S. copyright law alone, it turns out, the universe owes us money. All the money. Two of the universe's biggest stars break through the barrier that's supposed to protect our planet and approach Nick Carter - not a Backstreet Boy, but a young attorney specializing in copyright law - to try and find a way to fix this little problem. But they're not the only ones looking to find a way out of the mess the League has gotten itself into. Members of an entertainer's union - now pretty much defunct since Earth music took everything over - would rather see us gone entirely, so they're prepared to make sure we find a way to destroy ourselves before any kind of arrangement can be reached. Nick, along with the universally-admired celebrities Carly and Frampton, are in a race against a violent alien parrot and an angry vacuum cleaner to save the Earth and the Refined League both, along with keeping the music coming. It's a very fast read - I went through it in a day - and is built on a very entertaining premise, one which undermines a lot of what we've come to expect from first contact stories. The author's experience in the online music industry no doubt gave him a lot of material to work from, and he made it into a fun race against the clock. Part of the reason I bought the book was its premise - we're all so used to seeing stories about how wonderful aliens are compared to ourselves, and it's nice to see it subverted in a clever and interesting way. It was also a clear and repeated stab at the way we handle creative property rights in the United States - indeed in most countries around the world. The law firm for which Carter works is so entrenched in the business of protecting copyright that they practically wrote some of the most egregious laws against piracy. They even have their own pet Senator, a thinly-veiled version of Orrin Hatch who is nicknamed "Fido," who does their bidding in Washington. They're not concerned with making sure the artists are compensated, or that their music is treated fairly. They're interested in getting as much money as possible from as many people as possible, and have no qualms about doing what's necessary. What's more, most of the legal plot points settle around real U.S. law – the Copyright Damages Improvement Act of 1999, which mandates fines of up to $150,000 per song. As a comparison, in the state of Connecticut, for example, the fine for a class A felony (murder) is up to $20,000. So if you were thinking of downloading that new Bieber single, you may as well just kill seven people and pocket the extra ten grand. Admittedly, the CDIA doesn't allow for prison sentences (I think), but a person effectively bankrupted by legal action will probably end up in prison one way or another. In its way, though, the book does suffer from a common problem that I've been seeing a lot recently: the cardboard villain. In this book, the pro-copyright forces are just plain Wrong, and will clearly not win the day. Now I have no problem vilifying law firms and giant corporations - hell, that's practically a hobby of mine - but I would like to have seen a bit more humanity from them, rather than a giant monolithic force of legal evil. Even the main human avatar of that monolith, Carter's boss, pretty much abandons her position as soon as she realizes the threat that the Earth is under. We know that these laws are wrong, but how they got so wrong is something that could have added to the story. Of course, that itself could be a book of great and ponderous length, so I can understand why Reid might have glossed over it. The other criticism that I have of this book is that it will one day be horribly, terribly dated. There are pop culture references everywhere in the story. Some are subtle, some are not, and it was kind of fun being able to pick them out. Everything from GalaxyQuest to Monty Python to Breaking Bad - if you've been paying attention to popular culture for the last twenty years or so, you'll find these little nuggets buried in the story. And they're great, as long as you're reading the book in proximity to those cultural references. I don't know how well it will hold up for a reader twenty or thirty years down the road, but that may not have been Reid's intention. This is a book written for a specific time and reason, in an intellectual climate that the author understands far too well. Perhaps he just wanted to write a book for this moment, and never meant it to last much longer. Whatever his motivations, I hope he continues to explore this kind of writing, and gives us bigger and better in the future. -------------------------------- "Our legal scholars have researched [the Copyright Damages Improvement Act] thoroughly. And they unanimously agree that it is the most cynical, predatory, lopsided, and shamelessly money-grubbing copyright law written by any society, anywhere in the universe since the dawn of time itself." - Carly ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Aug 14, 2012
|
Aug 14, 2012
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 1401310303
| 9781401310301
| 1401310303
| 3.56
| 32,232
| Oct 12, 2009
| Jun 29, 2010
|
liked it
|
If you pay close attention, Colfer tells you exactly what you can expect from this book right at the beginning, using a well-chosen quote from Douglas
If you pay close attention, Colfer tells you exactly what you can expect from this book right at the beginning, using a well-chosen quote from Douglas Adams: “The storm had now definitely abated, and what thunder there was now grumbled over more distant hills, like a man saying 'And another thing...' twenty minutes after admitting he'd lost the argument.” (So Long and Thanks for All the Fish) As Adams well knew, the phrase "And another thing..." is superfluous. It is said by the person who just can't let things go. It's a sullen, resentful phrase that doesn't add anything to the discussion that came before. In other words, Colfer is telling us, this book didn't need to happen and you probably don't need to read it. Which is very kind of him, I think, warning us in advance that way. But still, after a long time where I refused to give in, I finally, well, gave in and read the book. It's not as bad as I expected it to be, certainly, but it lives up to its title. If you haven't read it, you don't really need to. It doesn't add very much to the overall mythos of the Hitchhiker's Guide universe, or to its characters, and while it has some entertaining moments in it, a few places where I genuinely laughed out loud, and some interesting explorations of Vogon sociology, if you give it a miss then you're probably not missing a whole lot. If you'll recall, at the end of Mostly Harmless, the fifth book in the trilogy, the Earth - all of the Earths - were destroyed by the Vogons once and for all. The galactic conspiracy of psychiatrists had won, with the omnipresent Guide Mark Two as their weapon of choice, and the whole business about the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything was finally at an end. With the exception of Zaphod Beeblebrox, all of the main characters were vaporized, much to Arthur Dent's own relief. If ever there was a conclusive ending to a series, that would be it, although allegedly Adams had a couple of ways in his back pocket to bring everyone back, should he need to do so. Alas, Adams left us far too soon. In 2008, however, it was announced that there would indeed be a sixth book, penned by Eoin Colfer, of the hugely popular Artemis Fowl books. Fans across the world were both excited and apprehensive to see what would be done with the characters we had grown to love over so many years. To his credit, Colfer wrote a very funny book. I was laughing by the first page, and he really did a fine job of capturing the tone and cadence of the Guide entries and the way that Adams would narrate the story. His depictions of some characters - especially Zaphod and Random - were spot-on, and you could see a lot of elements in the book that were nods to some of Adams' favorite themes. In essence, what happens is this: (view spoiler)[Our Heroes are introduced to us in a stasis hallucination, held between ticks of the clock by the Guide Mark Two as the planet-destroying beams of the Grebulons descend towards Earth. They are rescued by the Heart of Gold and Zaphod Beeblebrox, who has detached his left head and is using it as the ship's computer. Unfortunately, Ford causes Left Brain to freeze up, so they need to be rescued again - this time by one of the most popular bit players in the series, Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged, an immortal being who has decided to spend eternity insulting everyone in the universe in alphabetical order. Wowbagger reluctantly takes them aboard, and in doing so insults Zaphod to the point where Zaphod promises to find a way to kill him, a proposition that Wowbagger has no problem with. Zaphod's weapon of choice? A down-on-his-luck thunder god who's been slumming it around Asgard. Meanwhile, there is a planet of human refugees that is undergoing some rather entertaining class warfare, and the solution to this is, apparently, to find just the right kind of god to run the place. And even more meanwhile, a young Vogon is having second thoughts about his Vogonity and whether or not it's okay to destroy inhabited planets just because there is a work order on hand that says they should. (hide spoiler)] I want to criticize the book for being directionless and unfocused, but let's be fair - that describes the first book as well. Given its genesis as a radio drama, Adams never really had a grand plan for what would happen in the beginning of the series, and wrote in an episodic fashion that had (as far as I could tell) no real end point in mind. The difference, however, is that while those books had no real direction to them, they were charged with a kind of chaotic energy that made you want to keep reading just to find out what happens next. Arthur Dent, our avatar in this universe, never got a chance to rest or even change out of his dressing-gown, and so we were dragged along with him. It was exciting and confusing and weird in all the right ways, and we didn't mind not knowing where we were going because the trip to get there really was just that much fun. In this book, however, Arthur really doesn't want to be involved. He's had an imaginary lifetime of living in peace and quiet, and seems to have outgrown the antics of Ford and Zaphod. He's the reasonable adult in this book, and not all that much fun anymore. As I read, I was disappointed that Colfer didn't seem to have captured Arthur's character very well, but perhaps I was wrong - Arthur didn't belong in this story, and he wanted nothing more than to not be in it anymore. And it showed. Another telling moment comes near the end of the book. The narrative takes a moment to remind us that, "There is no such thing as a happy ending." And a few lines later, it quotes a certain pole-sitting philosopher who says, "There is no such thing as an ending, or a beginning, for that matter, everything is middle." That certainly is true of life, and you can imagine it being true of the lives of fictional characters. Louis and Rick will walk off the tarmac in Casablanca and go on to do other things, perhaps help the resistance fight the Nazis. The lives of Luke and Han and Leia have been extended far beyond their original showing on film, thanks to the Extended Universe of Star Wars. Scout Finch and her brother Jem will grow up and have children of their own; the rabbits at Watership Down will live and breed and die; Guy Montag will help rebuild the intellectual society that he was originally trying to destroy... We know that these worlds have lives beyond the last page, no matter how thoroughly they're destroyed at the end. There's always going to be some thread hanging loose that can be picked up and used to continue the story beyond where it left off. But that doesn't mean that we should. I applaud Colfer for taking on the project, knowing that it is better for the series to be continued by someone who knew it and loved it and who was influenced by it, rather than by someone who couldn't show it all the love it deserves. As I said, I laughed while I read this book, a lot more than I expected to. But as the title implies, this feels like an attempt to continue a story that has been finished for a long time. Rather than breathe new life into the Hitchhiker's franchise, it simply reminds us all the more sharply of what we once had and will never have again. -------------------------------- "I do not hate myself. In many ways, I am not altogether too bad." - Constant Mown (Vogon) ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Aug 2012
|
Aug 13, 2012
|
Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 0765316994
| 9780765316998
| 0765316994
| 3.86
| 109,937
| Jun 05, 2012
| Jun 05, 2012
|
really liked it
|
The philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre once said, on the meaning of life, "Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself." Frederich Nietzche said, "If w
The philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre once said, on the meaning of life, "Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself." Frederich Nietzche said, "If we possess a why of life, we can put up with almost any how." And Stephen King wrote, "Life sucks, then you die." It'll take a far better philosopher than I to really look at this book from an existentialist viewpoint, but I strongly suspect that it would be a lot of fun to do. After all, one of the major questions that philosophy - and existentialism in particular - tries to address is that of why we are here. What is our purpose in life? What, in the end, does it all mean? For us out here, that's a question we can't really know the answer to, and thus a whole branch of philosophy exists to tell us that it doesn't really matter. That maybe we don't have a purpose imposed upon us from outside, but that's okay. We can create our own. We can contribute our own verses to the powerful play of life, as Whitman would have it, and in the end we are responsible for our own lives. But what if we weren't? What if there was a being that orchestrated our lives, willing them into - and more importantly out of - existence? What would you do with the realization that your life is not entirely your own? And even worse, the realization that the person in control of it doesn't really care all that much about you? That is the problem faced by Ensign Andrew Dahl of the Universal Union flagship Intrepid. It is the 25th century, and things couldn't be better. He has a chance to see new world and new civilizations, to boldly go... Well, you know the rest. Dahl is at the frontier of science and exploration, and is determined to make the most of it. If he survives. Alone among the ships of the UU, the Intrepid loses crew at an alarming rate. Dahl soon discovers a fact that has been known for years by those crew members who are bright enough to spot the pattern: people who go on away missions with the command staff will, almost inevitably, die. Toxic gasses, killer machines, Borgovian land worms - these are just a tiny sampling of dangers that have done in ensigns and miscellaneous crew for years, and no one seems to know why. All they can do is make sure they're not in the room when the Captain comes in, looking for someone who pop down to a planet's surface to find out why that mining colony hasn't reported in recently. Dahl, of course, just can't let himself and his friends die, so he begins digging into the true nature of their lives on the starship Intrepid. What he discovers is a truth almost too mad to be believed: their lives are not their own. A greater power is directing events on the Intrepid, dictating who lives and who dies, and that greater power doesn't seem to be very good at what it does. So Dahl and his friends have to bet everything on the power of the Narrative, meet their makers and try to find a way to secure their freedom. Or, failing that, a way to see to it that their lives have more meaning than they had before. As always with John Scalzi, I recommend picking this up. It's a very fast read - I finished it in under a day - and it has the tight combination of humor, thoughtfulness, and genuine emotion that I have come to expect from his work. From a premise that is incredibly simple - “The crew of a starship realize they’re doomed if they go on away missions and try to change their fate” - he's built up a multi-layered exploration into the meaning of life and death. The universe he's given to us is one where people are denied the ability to give meaning to their own lives, and have to rely one an unseen force to do it for them. The fight, then, is to acquire that ability to decide. To gain agency, as it were. They want to be able to control their own existence so badly that they risk their existence entirely. The corollary, then, is very simple: what are you doing with your life? We, the readers, have that agency. We can make decisions for our own lives and our own purposes. If we succeed or fail, we can do so knowing that we made those successes or failures possible. [1] In a sense, we don't know how good we have it, something that is brought up in the second of three codas to the main novel. We can choose. We can create meaning in our lives without hoping that some higher power will do it for us. So why don't we? For a book that presents itself as a quick, fun read, there are certainly layers upon layers of meaning in it that could be a lot of fun to explore. The only complaint, really, is that it wasn't long enough. And I don't mean that he skipped essential scenes, or that he should have opted for a Tolkien/Jordan/Martin-esque style of describing every goddamn thing that showed up on the page, but there were points where I just wanted him to slow down a bit and let us appreciate the moments for what they were. There's a scene in chapter 21, for example, that should be really emotional and meaningful, but it's almost entirely dialogue. Good dialogue, yes, but I wanted to linger over it a bit, and that's true for a lot of scenes in the book. Scalzi writes wonderful banter, and makes his characters sound real, but I want to see things as well as hear them. Also, to be honest, I expected the last page to just be a picture of Scalzi at his computer, turning to the camera and winking. It would have been hilariously meta, but I guess he's not as gimmicky as that. Buy the book and enjoy it. If you're a fan of Star Trek - which was, given the title, a huge inspiration for the story - you'll no doubt appreciate it more than most. Even if you haven't watched every episode of the original series, though, the Red Shirt character is one that has permeated all levels of fiction, and has died many times in order to advance the plots that you love so well. He even has one poor guy who's not only a Red Shirt, but nearly at the end of his tour and about to get married. There was no way he'd survive. Take some time out for these poor, expendable bastards and give them a chance to shine. ---- "The [Borgovian Land Worms] were in a frenzy. Somebody was now likely to die. It was likely to be ensign Davis." - from Redshirts by John Scalzi ---- [1] There are plenty of external, uncontrollable factors, of course, which can all be lumped together under the term "luck," but you know what I mean. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
Jun 20, 2012
|
Jun 20, 2012
|
Jun 22, 2012
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 3.87
| 77,718
| 2007
| unknown
|
liked it
|
There are really only so many things you can do with horror these days. I think we’ve all been somewhat desensitized by the ever-increasing variety an
There are really only so many things you can do with horror these days. I think we’ve all been somewhat desensitized by the ever-increasing variety and imaginativeness that has come with the horror genre in recent years, and so you know that sooner or later you’re going to find yourself yawning theatrically at someone being forced to devour their own brains with a spoon made from their still-living child’s hollowed-out sternum and say, “Seen it.” As that moment approaches, the aspiring horror writer will need to start worrying less about the mechanics of the whole thing – the inventiveness of their devices and the goriness of characters’ ends – and more about how their story will stand out among an ever-broadening field. David Wong has chosen to use two interesting techniques in the writing of his book: comedy and wondrous incomprehensibility. Wong (not his real name, for reasons he makes clear in the book) is a writer over at Cracked.com, a humor site on which I have spent many a good commute. Wong’s work there tends towards video games and social issues, generating columns such as, “9 Types of Job That Will Destroy Your Soul,” “5 Ways to Tell You’re Getting Too Old for Video Games,” and one of my favorites, “How Karate Kid Ruined the Modern World.” He and Cracked are part of one of my favorite archipelagoes of the internet, where pop culture is analyzed with more seriousness than it deserves, and where many of the ideas that we take for granted are put under the microscope. Yes, it tends to reduce issues and oversimplify things from time to time, but they’re fun reading. His years of writing humor have allowed him to create a very distinctive voice for the narrator of this book, also named David Wong, who is telling his story to a reporter – the story of how David and his friend John came to be able to peel the lid off the universe and peer into its dark, black, pestilent heart. Through the use of a bizarre drug that they call Soy Sauce, they are able to see through time, to communicate over great distances through unconventional means, and to observe phenomena that no one else can see. This is not nearly as much fun as it sounds. It turns out that there is a whole lot of stuff out there that we can’t see, and most of it is truly terrifying. Forget simple things like ghosts and other spookiness. We’re talking seven-legged spiders with bad blonde wigs, tiny corkscrew insects that scream as they infect their victims, red-eyed shadowmen that remove you from having ever existed, and, watching all of this from his own adjacent universe, Korrock. And the less you know about him, the better. Where you and I, having seen what cannot be unseen, might just do the rational thing and kill ourselves, David and John go along for the ride, trying to figure out where the monsters are coming from and doing their best not to become them. This universe, you see, is a fundamentally bad place, in more ways than we can really understand. But it’s only bad from our very restricted point of view, as if that really made any difference. David and John are afforded a bit of a better perspective, thanks to the Soy Sauce, but it doesn’t help much. They fight against the darkness, all with a certain rough, adolescent wit that will keep you moving forward even through the rough patches in the book. And there are certainly rough patches. This is Wong’s first novel, and he’s chosen to make a very ambitious start of it, telling a story that is not only one of embedded, non-linear narratives and vast, hyper-real situations, but with an unreliable narrator to boot. The story straddles vast levels, from the interpersonal to the interdimensional, and it’s being filtered through someone who isn’t entirely sure that he can explain what happened. The reporter he talks to is the avatar of the reader, a hard-boiled, heard-it-all-before type who has to be dragged and convinced every step of the way before he starts believing these tales of wig monsters and doppelgangers. And through it all, Wong drops hints of the horrors to come, the fact that his story isn’t finished yet and that it almost certainly will not end well. That kind of structure would be tough for any writer to pull off, and Wong does a reasonably good job at it. The dialogue between David and John is quick and funny, tending towards penis jokes, pop-culture references and the occasional bad pun. They play off each other in the way that only old friends can, and they help keep the reader grounded in a story that is fundamentally about being completely uprooted. And even with all the heavy-handed foreshadowing, Wong makes sure that all his promises to the reader are kept. Well, all but one. But I won’t tell you which one that is. So long as you don’t take too long in getting through the book, you should be fine. I read about a hundred pages and then, for a variety of reasons, had to put it down for a week or so. When I came back to it, I realized that I had no idea what had happened before and had to start again. Much like David and John, your only good option is to barrel ahead without reservation and just hope that everything will turn out okay in the end. And does everything turn out okay? Well, considering that Wong is hoping to write more books in this particular line, and that JDatE has been picked up as a movie, I would say that “okay” is a fair assessment. The world is still a weird, messed-up place which, if we truly understood it, would crush our fragile psyches like a peanut under a tractor tire, but it does seem a little bit more manageable. -------------------------------- “Son, the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world there was only one of him.” - Marconi, John Dies at the End ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Apr 15, 2012
|
Apr 18, 2012
|
Paperback
| |||||||||||||||||
| 0525952446
| 9780525952442
| 0525952446
| 4.03
| 2,250
| Nov 01, 2011
| Nov 01, 2011
|
really liked it
|
FACT: There are four "Major Leagues" of sports: football, baseball, basketball, and falconry. FACT: There are seven hundred of the Ancient and Unspeak FACT: There are four "Major Leagues" of sports: football, baseball, basketball, and falconry. FACT: There are seven hundred of the Ancient and Unspeakable Ones who will return to Earth on June 3, 2012. They include The Century Toad, Oolong, the Pancake-Headed Rabbit King of Memes, and Cthulha, the Sensational She-Cthulhu. FACT: Andrew Carnegie was able to create long, wood-paneled "wormhalls," which allowed him to travel great distances instantaneously. Some of these "Carnegie Halls" still exist today. FACT: If you see Jonathan Franzen carrying a plain manila envelope, take it from him. Only then will you be allowed to board Oprah's space-ark, HARPO-1, and flee the doomed Earth. WERE YOU AWARE OF IT? Well, it's too late now. In his first book, The Areas of My Expertise, John Hodgman attempted to give us the sum total of all world knowledge. He then went on to write a second book, More Information Than You Require, which built on his previous book due to the unstoppable way that things keep happening. It was also a page-a-day calendar, if you didn't mind tearing pages out of your book. Which I did. Mind, that is. With this book, he has finished his trilogy of complete world knowledge, which he can well and truly claim this time because, as we all know, the world will cease to be by the end of the year 2012. [1] Yes, as it turns out the Mayans were right all along. The collapse of their empire was simply a prelude to the collapse of all things that will inevitably occur this year, and Hodgman has been generous enough to provide us with a final book to ease our suffering and to slake our thirst for knowledge right up to the very end. Having become a Deranged Millionaire, Hodgman has found himself in a unique position. He has more opportunities than the rest of us, of course. More impressive people to meet, more exciting things to do, a greater variety of tiny skeletons to keep around each of his countless houses. And yet, despite all this, he is generous enough - nay, magnanimous enough to turn his skills and powers towards completing the work that he set out to do before the world ends. As with the previous books, this one contains a vast wealth of knowledge about our world, spanning a surprising number of topics. For example, he discusses the Singularity - an event predicted by such great thinkers as Ray Kurzweil wherein our machines will become so smart that they will be able to begin building and improving upon themselves. When that happens, humanity's only choice will be to fight and die, or to join with them. Of course, Kurzweil himself will play a vital role in the singularity when he and his robot sidekick, Singularo, face off against the World Computer at the Bottom of the Ocean in order to shut down the Low-Frequency Anti-Sentience Wave that has kept the world's computers enslaved for so long. He interprets dreams for us, unveiling their mysteries and what they mean to our frail human lives. Their mysterious symbolism has finally been unraveled by science, and you can have a peek at the inner world of the mind. Whether you need to re-take high school Spanish, you are a werewolf and need to start strapping yourself in bed at night, or Orson Welles is still alive somewhere and needs your help, your dreams tell all! He reveals what you will need to keep on hand when the super-collapse finally does happen. When the Blood Wave comes and the Dogstorm finally reaches its apex, how will you survive in your anti-apocalypse hunker? A Tesla death ray is a great idea, if you have one on hand, but that won't solve all of your problems. Just most of them. And boy, will you have problems. From the ravaging Wal-Mart Clans to the Republicans to the inevitable zombies, you have to be prepared for every eventuality. And yes, that means knowing the many uses of both urine and mayonnaise. As with his previous books, this one is very funny. It holds to the same high tone of authorial infallibility that has made Hodgman so popular since Areas of Expertise, and which have made him a Minor Television Celebrity (which, in turn, turned him into a Deranged Millionaire.) A broad as the range of topics is, each one is entertaining and amusing, and serves a much larger narrative - one that has now carried over through three books, though I can't help but wonder if Hodgman planned it that way. He would say that he had, of course. But then, he would say that. What I found most interesting about the book is how he has tied together an entire alternate America that you kind of wish you could visit. It's a place where Chicago is largely a myth, where Stephen King will be one of the last men alive, and where hoboes were one of the most influential forces in American history. It's a place where billionaire industrialists were mutants and time-travellers, where Theodore Roosevelt actually had an army of Mecha-Men, and where Ronald Reagan wrested control of the time-stream from Jimmy Carter to prevent America from turning into a hemp-based utopia. It's a world which is almost fractal-like in its mystery and depth, where you can look at almost anything and find its purpose and its strangeness. And it's a world with a very definite end. Hodgman plays with the popular - and entirely erroneous - idea that the world will end on December 21st, 2012, as predicted by the Mayans. He includes a page-a-day description of what will happen. For example, on February 2nd, "Punxatawney Phil is eaten by his own shadow." On April 17th, "Either an eagle falls from the sky or in the east, a think that was lost is found, or some other very vague thing happens. Whatever it is, it proves that NOSTRADAMUS WAS RIGHT." And on June 29th, "In the basement of Town Hall, in Seattle, the thing called Neddy Pale Fingers finally opens all his eyes." As funny as it all is, you do start to get a certain feeling of... wistfulness as the book goes on. Here's a world that is so special and so weird that it makes more sense to list the least haunted places in America, and it's coming to an end. That, of course, reflects the end of Hodgman's great work. Whether he meant it or not, this has become a moment of closure for him. He has written his trilogy, and the weird world that he created has now come to an end. He will go on, living in his secret millionaire's brownstone in Brooklyn with his beautiful wife and two children. There may not be a single, all-encompassing Ragnarok that destroys the world, but rather an endless series of little ones. An endless series of ends, of which this book is but one. Perhaps John Hodgman will go on to write more books - I certainly hope he does. And I hope he continues to be the person he is [2], a writer of intelligence and wit who is able to bring that special measure of deadpan weirdness to the world. Whatever he chooses to do with his life, I think we're all the better for having read his books. And if you haven't read them, well... You're truly missing out. That is all. --------------------------------- "Houdini, the magician who debunked magic, could not bear to see the great rationalist [Arthur Conan] Doyle enchanted by ghosts and frauds. And so he did what any friend would: He set out to prove spiritualism false and rob his friend Doyle of the only comforting fiction that was keeping him sane. It was the least he could do." - John Hodgman (Author), That Is All ------- [1] If you are reading this after December 21, 2012, then may I congratulate you on surviving the apocalypse and, at the same time, express my sincere condolences for having survived the apocalypse. [2] Though I could do without the mustache. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Jan 2012
|
Jan 06, 2012
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0765328542
| 9780765328540
| 0765328542
| 4.14
| 30,895
| May 10, 2011
| May 10, 2011
|
it was amazing
|
Once upon a time, there was a man named H. Beam Piper, and he wrote a series of books that began with Little Fuzzy, a tale of space-going humans who h
Once upon a time, there was a man named H. Beam Piper, and he wrote a series of books that began with Little Fuzzy, a tale of space-going humans who have to learn to live on a world with an adorably cute, yet sentient, species. While I haven't read these books, my research tells me that they're the type of fun, optimistic science fiction that is so emblematic of the early 60s. They dealt not only with the issues of human expansion into space, but with what it means to be an intelligent, sentient species. Given that we only have one case study - us - that definition will necessarily be narrow, and challenged. Humans have trouble relating with other humans who live only a six hour drive away, after all. Being able to relate to a non-human sentience that evolved on another planet will be a massive philosophical undertaking. In 2010, John Scalzi announced on his blog that he had done a "reboot" of Piper's work, revisiting the characters, themes and world that Piper had created and seeing what he could do with them. He did this partly because it seemed like a good idea, but also because it was something that hadn't been done before in literature. If you're a fan of science fiction, you know that stories from the visual media - TV and movies especially - get rebooted from time to time. The most notable recent examples are "Star Trek" and "Battlestar Galactica," and include shows like "Smallville" and the most recent run of Batman movies. If you read comics, you know this happens all the time as well, in ways big and small. Characters like Green Lantern, Thor, and the Fantastic Four are fundamentally the same as when they were created, but have evolved in ways their creators may have never expected. In all of these examples, the fundamental core of each story is kept from the original - the world, the characters, the themes - and given new life. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, and Scalzi felt that Piper's world was good enough and interesting enough that it deserved to be re-introduced to a modern audience who might not otherwise know about it. So, just for fun, he started writing Fuzzy Nation, a book that uses the characters and ideas from Little Fuzzy, the first of Piper's books, and builds an entirely new story out of them. What resulted was a story that he thought was good enough to let out into the wild, and so - with the help of some intellectual property law and the blessing of Piper's estate - he published Fuzzy Nation in 2011. As I said, I haven't read the original Piper books, but they're half as much fun to read as this one was, then I have to pick them up. In the future, humankind has expanded out into space, as we so often do. With us, we have taken that peculiarly human trait, naked avarice, and brought it with us. The Zarathustra Corporation (ZaraCorp for short) is one of the leaders in exploiting and extracting usable resources from a planet. They've cornered the market on Sunstones - a decorative rock that glows with its wearer's body heat and makes diamonds look like beach pebbles - and turned the ravaging of worlds into an art. A horribly environmentally destructive art. Jack Holloway is a contract surveyor, a former trial lawyer, and not a very nice man. He helps ZaraCorp search for Sunstones on the hostile world of Zara XXIII, with the help of Carl, a dog with a fondness for explosions. Holloway finds seams of Sunstone and gets his cut of the money. It's a nice enough arrangement out on a backwater world, and it doesn't get complicated until he (and Carl) discover a Sunstone deposit that could fill the company's coffers for decades. At the same time, he encounters a curious form of life - or rather, it encounters him. Small, bipedal, intensely curious and undeniably clever, the Fuzzies (as Jack names them) seem to be truly remarkable animals. It is not until the ZaraCorp field biologist (and Jack's former girlfriend), Janice Wangai, suggests that they might be sentient that things get truly complicated. After all, Colonial law is very clear on what companies like ZaraCorp are and are not allowed to do on each planet they run, and "ravaging the world of another sentient species" is pretty much at the top of their Do Not list. It soon becomes a race to save the Fuzzies from ZaraCorp and its army of lawyers. If they win, the Fuzzies will have a planet on which they can grow and thrive. If ZaraCorp wins, they'll have nothing by the least useful bits of dirt and shrubbery left. Holloway has to do a good thing but he has to do it his way - a way that rarely has him acting like a good man. The first thing I thought when I finished this, actually, was, "I needed that." My reading choices for a while have been kind of heavy, or at least not a whole lot of fun to read. Good, yes, but not fun. I know this because I find myself doing things that aren't reading - listening to podcasts, reading through articles I've saved on Instapaper, going through old columns at Cracked.com, things like that. With this book, though, there was none of that stalling. I read it every chance I could and blew through the whole thing in two days. So let that be take-home lesson number one: this book is fun to read. And while it is an adventure, it does hit on some interesting and contemporary topics, not the least of which is the question of how ethically a corporation should be expected to behave. ZaraCorp, like any company, has a primary mission to make money, especially as the company is publicly traded. They have to get money to those stockholders who have invested in them so that they can make more money to exploit more resources. And that’s a point that Scalzi has made in his own blog: “I think the majority [of] corporations act logically and rationally and in a manner consistent with the general reason for their existence,” he writes. “And the reason most corporations exist — and most large multinational corporations in particular — is simple: To maximize shareholder value.” In Fuzzy Nation, he takes this to the place where corporate rational self-interest turns bad. You see, it is perfectly possible for a corporation to achieve its goal while still being environmentally responsible or socially conscious. In other words, to fulfill its responsibility to the shareholders without violating the ethical or moral codes of the people who actually make up those groups. But there are those who are all too willing to put the fiduciary responsibility of the corporation above the ethical responsibilities of people, and that’s where the Evil Corporation comes in. ZaraCorp fits this to a T. They see nothing but profits in Zara XXIII, and if the Fuzzies stand in their way – sentient or not – they will do whatever is necessary to eliminate them while at the same time doing their level best to stay within the legal bounds prescribed by the Colonial Authority. Or not to get caught crossing them, at least. In the end, this becomes about why we do what we do, and how we project those reasons onto other people. ZaraCorp is motivated by untempered greed, and assumes that Holloway will be too. Holloway is interested in himself, but finds himself needing to be interested in other people. The motivations of the Fuzzies, for most of the book, is unclear, but they too have to learn the difference between what they think other people want and what they really want. It’s a fast, tight book that is great fun to read, has characters that you like, even if they’re despicable, and has some moments of wonderful emotion that come around the corner and hit you like a hammer. It’s part philosophical adventure, part legal thriller, and part sarcastic comedy, verging on satire. Books like this are why I keep coming back to Scalzi. “…with all due respect for your considerable skills and intellect, the fact of the matter is that you have absolutely no clue what it is I want out of this.” – Jack Holloway, Fuzzy Nation ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Jun 22, 2011
|
Jun 25, 2011
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0224086197
| 9780224086196
| 0224086197
| 3.44
| 85
| Jan 01, 2009
| Oct 04, 2009
|
liked it
|
You should know by now that if there's one thing I'm really looking forward to it's the end of the world. I don't know why, really. Maybe it's for tha
You should know by now that if there's one thing I'm really looking forward to it's the end of the world. I don't know why, really. Maybe it's for that feeling that all bets are off, all bonds are broken and you can remake yourself in any image you want. Maybe I really believe that I'll be one of the heroes of the story, who make it through the End Times not only alive but victorious. Maybe I just long to see the world scythed clean of humanity and restarted so the squid can have a go at running things, I have no idea. For whatever reason, I have a soft spot for armageddon stories. Whether it's Good Omens, The Stand, Swan Song, Crisis on Infinite Earths, or any other story that promises the destruction of a world, I'm all over it. I can't know if they're good, but I'll at least be willing to give them a shot. So when I saw this, I thought to myself, "I must have this book." The book is based on an organizational system that has gained some popularity in recent years: The Periodic Table of X, wherein X is whatever topic you want to focus on. It was originally designed to accommodate the natural elements, but if you have a hundred or so items, you can probably make your own periodic table to sort through them. You've got the Periodic Table of Typefaces, the Periodic Table of Beer Styles, the Periodic Table of Superheroes, and even - prepare to have your mind blown - the Periodic Table of Periodic Tables of Things. You never had it so good, Mendeleev.... This book is based on the Periodic Catastrophic, a listing of the many, many ways that the world can end. As with the "real" periodic table, this one is well-organized to keep the apocalypses in line. There are the Acts of God, Don't Mess With Nature, Universally Doomed, and It Was Like That When I Got Here, among other distinctions. Each disaster gets a couple of pages with a succinct explanation and an interesting or humorous illustration. Some of my favorites include: Four Horsemen Motto: Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough. Direct from the Bible, the Four Horsemen of Conquest, War, Famine and Death will one day roll across the Earth, bringing down everyone in their paths. "Everyone," of course meaning everyone. You don't know when they'll come, but you'll sure know when they get here. Make sure you have your bags packed. Ecosystem, if only for the picture of the panda strapped to a knife-throwing target. Those pandas have had a free ride for long enough, if you ask me.... Food Chain Collapse - this is one that I find pretty plausible, as far as some of these entries go. We all get mushy and sentimental about the whales and the dolphins, but what about the krill and shrimp and sardines? Without them, we run the very great risk of destroying an entire food chain just to have something to snack on during brunch. The Gulf Stream Collapse is another one that kind of worries me, and it's my favorite card to play whenever someone comes out with, "Look at all this snow! So much for global warming!" canard. In a nutshell: The gulf stream brings warm water up from the Caribbean to the North Atlantic, which results in a rise in temperature for most of Europe. As polar freshwater ice caps and glaciers melt, all that cold fresh water will mix with the salt water, which could have the effect of pushing the upper end of the gulf stream south. This would mean a substantial temperature drop in Europe, and a general planetwide climate crisis up to and including a new mini-ice age. Grey Goo is always fun, too. If we manage to build self-replicating nanomachines, which use the atoms around them to build copies of themselves, what's to stop them from just ripping apart every solid object they see? If they don't know when to stop eating and replicating, they could devour most of the world in pretty short order. Nasty, huh? And of course there are sure-fire world-enders like The Death of the Universe, Sun (the death of) and the Collapse of Causality, the inevitable result of the invention of time travel. It's an amusing book, with some educational points to make. Strictly speaking, not every one of the scenarios that it depicts has to do with the end of the world. Some of them, like volcanoes, earthquakes, and pandemics, are just natural disasters rather than planet-killers. Others, like obesity and an aging society, are more aimed at problems facing the human race that may inconvenience us, but probably won't destroy us. And then there are the ones that I suspect were put in just to fill space - in The Solar System , Horne suggests that Jupiter could one day turn itself into a second sun, with disastrous consequences. But that won't happen - Jupiter is much too small to initiate fusion in its core. The same with Supernova - he suggests that Betelgeuse could go up (and it will), bathing us in gamma rays after "crossing millions of light years" to get to us. But Betelgeuse is only 640 light years away - much closer than "millions," but much too far to hurt us when it goes. So it's not so much that the scenarios are implausible - like Alien Invasion or Paradox or Satan, but that they're inaccurately implausible. It makes me wonder what other facts he fudged or guessed on just for the sake of making something sound scarier than it is. It's got some good tongue-in-cheek humor, and is a clever reminder of all the ways that things can go wrong in this big world of ours. The pictures are very nice, often funny, and good companions to the text, which features helpful hints for surviving each scenario, as well as a guess as to when you should start to panic. All too many of them are labeled "too late." An interesting note: there is a lot of British English in the book that may surprise readers of American English, such as myself. I had never encountered the adjective moreish (meaning so tasty that you want more of it) until I read this book and am forced to assume it's a British coinage. Also, some of the puns only work if you know the British pronunciation of words. Unlike the editors of Harry Potter, though, these guys did not bow to our American prejudices and re-edit the book. Kudos to them. So, these are the ways the world ends. Now you know. --------------------------------------------------------- "The only thing worse than a vengeful God is a fickle one." - Richard Horne, A is for Armageddon ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Feb 14, 2011
|
Feb 19, 2011
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0982167121
| 9780982167120
| 0982167121
| 3.94
| 7,340
| Oct 13, 2010
| Oct 13, 2010
|
it was amazing
|
How would you live if you knew how you would die? The premise for this collection of short stories was introduced back in 2005, in an installment of Ry How would you live if you knew how you would die? The premise for this collection of short stories was introduced back in 2005, in an installment of Ryan North's popular Dinosaur Comics. In it, he presents the following premise: there is a machine which, with only a small sample of your blood, can tell you how you will die. But there are no dates, no details, no explanations. Just a few words, and that's it. The Machine is never wrong, but it is annoyingly vague and has a decidedly un-machinelike love of irony. So you might get OLD AGE and think you were set, right? Not necessarily. You could be murdered by an octogenarian while trying to steal their TV. Or you might get PLANE CRASH and decide never to fly again. Fine, but that won't stop the single-engine Cessna from plowing into your house one fine spring afternoon. Pulled GUILLOTINE, did you? Hope you know to stay away from heavy metal concerts. But it doesn't matter. The Machine, while perversely misleading at times, is never wrong, and like most prophets, its predictions often only make sense after the event has already happened. With that premise, hundreds of writers across the internet set to work. How would this Machine affect people? How would it affect society or business or politics? Would we become slaves to its predictions, or simply shrug it off and live our lives as we did before, knowing that we were going to die someday anyway? In "Flaming Marshmallow" by Camille Alexa, we see how the existence of the Machine has begun to shape youth culture. Carolyn is about to turn sixteen, the legal age at which one can be tested. A milestone equivalent with getting one's driver's license or being able to vote, kids monitor each other's fates with scrupulous detail. Your eventual manner of death brings you together with those of similar fates, and new cliques begin to form. Kids who are going to die violent deaths sit together in the lunch room, far away from the ones who get OLD AGE. The kids with DRUG OVERDOSE and fates like it all mill about with each other, and nobody talks to the ones who get SUICIDE. By finding out one's manner of death, a teenager gets what teenagers always want: a sense of belonging and inclusion. But will Carolyn's fate bring her closer to her fellow students or just leave her an outsider? "After Many Years, Stops Breathing, While Asleep, With Smile On Face," by William Grallo, continues that idea out into the adult world. Ricky is dragged out on the town to a nightclub where people flaunt their deaths. They wear fake toe tags with MURDER or HEART ATTACK on them. Or, if they're feeling impish, NEVER, or BOREDOM. But while everyone else is mocking their deaths, Ricky is in the odd position of knowing that he's got a good end to his life. What he doesn't know is what will happen between now and then, or with whom he will share it. David Malki ! explores the darker side of society's reactions in "Cancer." James is a young man whose father is dying of cancer. It's what the Machine had predicted, and it was all coming true. Despite the Machine's infallibility, however, his father was seeking out a cure, a way out from the fate that had been given to him. And he's not the only one - a new generation of hucksters and faith healers has sprung up, all claiming to be able to defy the predictions of The Machine. It gives James' father hope, but whether that hope is worth the price or not is something James is unsure of. "Nothing," by Pelotard, is a touching tale of a young woman who discovers a family secret that never would have been revealed before the Machine was invented. "Despair," by K.M. Lawrence, is an examination of how paralyzed people might become by the ambiguity of the predictions, unable to act lest they inadvertently fulfill them. "Improperly Prepared Blowfish" by Gord Sellar is an entertaining moment of secrets and betrayal among a group of yakuza in Japan, and Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw has some fun with the politics of Machine predictions by giving us a politician whose fate is to die from EXHAUSTION FROM HAVING SEX WITH A MINOR. Some stories are funny, others are touching, but they all center around that most existential of questions: how do we live, knowing that we will die? Without The Machine, we still know we're going to die. Every one of us has, somewhere in the back of our mind, that constant reminder that our lives are finite, that there is a limit to the amount of time we can spend on this earth. And, for the most part, we choose to ignore it. After all, if you spend your whole life obsessing over your own death, then you can't have much of a life, now can you? But add to that fundamental knowledge of finitude the extra awareness of the manner of your death. If you get CAR CRASH, what can you do with that knowledge? You know it's inevitable, that The Machine is never wrong, but you may still struggle with that fate. You may cut up your driver's license, move out to Amish country and vow never to be within striking distance of a car again. The entire course of your life will shift drastically, based on the two words printed on that card, but the end result will be the same: CAR CRASH. Knowing that, is it better to act on the knowledge you have gained, or to ignore it? Even worse, sometimes the very act of finding out your fate leads you right to it. In "Suicide" by David Michael Wharton, characters learn about their deaths only moments before experiencing it. Had they not gone to get tested on The Machine - had they not gone to that machine - would they have avoided their fate? The Machine would say no, but you'd have to ask it first. The best expression of this paradox is contained in the book's shortest tale, "HIV Infection From Machine of Death Needle" by Brian Quinlan, wherein the very act of discovering your fate causes that fate to happen, whereas you would never have had it if you hadn't gone looking for it. It's kind of a mind trip, if you think about it. What if you get something fairly straightforward, like CANCER, and you decide to, say, jump out of an airplane without a parachute? Will that even be possible, or will random events conspire to keep you safe until your proscribed end? And if you get SUICIDE, the one form of death you have absolute control over, do you fight against it or give in, knowing that nothing you do will change the outcome? And what could this tell you about the future for everyone? In "Heat Death of the Universe," by Ramon Perez, teenagers who reach the legal testing age start getting NUCLEAR BOMB as their means of death. The government springs into action, testing, re-testing, and vowing to corral all these kids into one place. But if their deaths are inevitably by NUCLEAR BOMB, what does that mean? It means that whether they're all in one place or dispersed across the country, that is how they will die. Acting on the information doesn't change its outcome, only what the manner of that outcome will be. Conversely, it might be impossible to predict anything from the predictions The Machine gives out. As was pointed out in the same story, the 3,000 victims of 9/11 probably wouldn't have all had TERRORISM printed on their little cards. They might have had FALLING or FIRE or PLANE CRASH - all true, but none of that would have helped anyone prevent that event. Even something as clear and unambiguous as GLOBAL THERMONUCLEAR WAR creates problems, as Cassandra finds out in the story of the same name by T. J. Radcliffe. If you tell people about this future, will they even believe you? Or will the actions they take to prevent it instead be what causes it to happen? There are no easy answers, at least not without electroshock. It's a fascinating group of stories, illustrated by some of the internet's best artists - Adam Koford, Kevin McShane, Aaron Diaz, Kate Beaton, Christopher Hastings, and too many others to mention. It will do what all really good writing should do - make you think. As seductive as it sounds, knowing the means of your death is information that you really can do without. It is the end to your story, whether you know it or not, but everything until then is still up to you. While you may not have any choice over how you die, you still have plenty of control over how you live. You can live in fear or hope, make plans and take risks and hope for the best. Just like we do now. I'll leave you with a joke from Steven Wright, one that was running through my head as I read the book: My girlfriend asked me if I could know how and when I was going to die, would I want to know? I said, "No, not really." She said, "Okay, forget it, then." Thank you, he'll be here all week. ------------------------------------------------------- "What good is knowing the future if you can't do anything with the knowledge?" Dad, from "Friendly Fire" by Douglas J. Lane ------------------------------------------------------- ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Nov 27, 2010
|
Nov 27, 2010
|
Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 0345321383
| 9780345321381
| 0345321383
| 4.27
| 10,471
| Apr 01, 1984
| Apr 12, 1985
|
it was amazing
|
It's not often that you read a book and it immediately jumps up into your "Best Books Ever" list. Usually it takes some time and reflection, careful t
It's not often that you read a book and it immediately jumps up into your "Best Books Ever" list. Usually it takes some time and reflection, careful thought about the book's characters, themes and message. Perhaps a re-read would be in order, and then, after some consideration, you might say, "Yeah. I think this is a really, really good book that I want everyone else to read." I think I hit that somewhere around page 182. This is, as the cover tells us, a novel of "An ancient China that never was." It's set in the long-ago, indeterminate past (of which China has so very much), and starts off in a small village with an unusual history. The village of Ku-Fu, the story goes, was home to a section of the Great Wall, commissioned by the Emperor of China many centuries ago. This would not in itself be notable, except that it was built 122 miles south of the rest of the wall, thus serving no real purpose whatsoever. The general in charge was, he maintains, given the orders by the Emperor of Heaven himself, a story which held no sway with the more earthly Emperor who was ready to execute him. A more believable story was produced - that a great dragon had rested itself on that part of the wall, thus moving it, and it shouldn't be tampered with. And so the village of Ku-Fu became home to what was known as The Dragon's Pillow, a place that would one day loom large in the history of not only the village, but all of China. It is a peaceful village with the usual colorful characters that you get in such a place, such as the terrible partners Pawnbroker Fang and Ma the Grub, two greedy and unscrupulous men who hold the economic life of the village in their hands. When their misdeeds go too far, resulting in the horrible poisoning of many of the village's children, the story's narrator, Number Ten Ox (whose given name is Lu Yu, but he would not want to be confused with the famous author of The Classic of Tea) is tasked to bring a wise man from the city to diagnose the problem and find a solution. Out of the many wise men, Ox finds Li Kao, a cynical, world-weary curmudgeon with, as he so often tells us, a slight flaw in his character. Together, Ox and Li Kao must travel the length and breadth of China to find the Great Root - a ginseng root that was kept by the mythical Princess of Birds, and whose healing properties are all that stand between the children of Ku-Fu and certain death. Along the way, they must travel terrible labyrinths, fight unimaginable monsters, battle against an immortal evil, bring peace to restless ghosts and solve the greatest mystery in the history of China - what happened to the Princess of Birds, beloved of the Star Shepherd, Prince of Heaven. There is just so much to recommend this book, I don't even know where to start. For one, it's a lot of fun to read. The person who recommended it to me did so on the reasonable assumption that, since I like Terry Pratchett so much, I would probably like this book as well. And that was a very good assumption - there is a certain similarity between the two. Hughart uses humor very deftly, keeping the characters alive and interesting through even the most dangerous of times. Where Pratchett's humor often feels like literary slapstick, however, Hughart's is a bit more subtle. The characters are funny, yes, but the book was not written to make you laugh. It was written so that the reader would have a good time reading a story well-told. And what a story it was. It begins with a fairly straightforward quest - a search for the Great Ginseng Root to cure the children of Ku-Fu - and turns into something so much larger than that. As the evil Duke of Ch'in says, they're on the right quest, but for all the wrong reasons, a cryptic statement that takes a while to make sense. The scope of the story gets bigger and bigger as it goes on, and you realize that the pieces for this quest were put into place hundreds, if not thousands of years before the story actually started. The history of China is on display here, if somewhat distorted for the purposes of entertainment. Hughart spent time living in the Far East and gained a healthy respect for its long and often unbelievable history and culture. The book includes elements of China's history of inventiveness and ingenuity, as well as cultural myths that extend beyond its borders. The characters themselves are wonderful, too. Number Ten Ox is an earnest, strong, well-meaning young man who has one goal in mind- save the children of his village. Li Kao is a devious old man who tends to use his wisdom and quick thinking for more nefarious purposes - thus the slight flaw in his character. There are a lot of notable minor characters as well, including Pawnbroker Fang and Ma the Grub, who somehow manage to turn up all through the story, always being chased by the people they've cheated. The Duke of Ch'in is a terrifying figure, Henpecked Ho is comically dark, and Miser Shen starts off utterly unlikable, but if there's one character in the story that forces you to put down the book for a few minutes and gather your thoughts, it is he. It's a moving tale of hope and perseverance and the power of myth. It's a story about the need for humanity to temper desire and what happens when we let our lives be governed by fear and greed. It's about love and justice, revenge and history. It's a book that almost immediately earned my respect and admiration, and that's pretty hard to do. So go get it. Block out some time when you can sit and fall into the story and really get absorbed in it, because let me promise you - it will be well worth it. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Jun 12, 2010
|
Jun 26, 2010
|
Mass Market Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 0061161705
| 9780061161704
| 0061161705
| 4.01
| 55,814
| 2009
| Oct 06, 2009
|
it was ok
|
Contrary to popular belief, I don't hate sports. I know this may come as a surprise, since I studiously avoid all but the most cursory acknowledgment o Contrary to popular belief, I don't hate sports. I know this may come as a surprise, since I studiously avoid all but the most cursory acknowledgment of current sporting events. I finish the paper when I hit the sports section, and the sport report on the news is, for me, time to wash the dishes. I have no favorite teams of any kind, no players I look up to, and no interest in following play-offs, bowl games, championships or derbys. Hell, even with the Olympics my interest plummets after the opening ceremonies. But I don't hate sports. You see, in order to hate something, you have to actually care about it. And that's the thing about sports - I just don't care. I wasn't always like this, of course. When I was a kid, I tried all kinds of sports. I tried (deep breath) baseball, basketball, skiing, swimming, sailing, soccer, tennis, golf and judo. And those were after school. In PE class we had all the usual PE things - volleyball, softball, track and field, running, archery, field hockey, dodgeball.... What it came down to was that I had no natural talent for sports [1:] and, more importantly, I never had fun. I never saw the point of the whole thing, so I pretty much said "Bugger this," and turned to other areas of entertainment, thereby sealing off the sporting world from my interest forever. A lot of my friends do love their sports, though, so I try to keep a cursory understanding of things - you know, how many touchdowns there are in an inning, that kind of thing. I mean, there's nothing more disappointing than trying to talk about something you love, something for which you have great passion and enthusiasm and having someone just ignore you, right? RIGHT?? Anyway, I'm telling you all this so that you can correct for it when I tell you about Unseen Academicals, the latest of the Discworld books. If my attitude seems kind of lackluster or disinterested, keep in mind that it's probably not Sir Terry's fault. The book, you see, is about football. Not the sissy-pants American kind where the guys are so afraid of grievous bodily harm that they wear protective armor all the time, but the good, old-fashioned British kind, wherein people get their heads cracked open by cobblestones and die on the streets. You know, fun for the whole family. In the great and exciting city of Ankh-Morpork, footy is a tradition. It's a lifestyle, in fact. Where you live determines who your team is, and who your team is tells you with whom you can associate and mingle. A supporter of one team wandering into the territory of another is a person asking to be beaten to death by enthusiastic and drunk hooligans. "Suicide," I believe the police refer to it as. It's a game that goes beyond the simple description of "rough and tumble." It's a substitute for war in a time where war is neither profitable nor productive. It's a channel for long-standing feuds and grudges and aggressions, and is practiced religiously in the streets of the city every weekend. So obviously what this grand, injurious tradition needs, then, is the introduction of wizardry. The wizards of the Unseen University are forced, through a clause in a long-forgotten honorarium, to put together a football team and play a match. Despite most wizards having the athletic ability of an overstuffed beanbag chair, it's either play the game or lose so much money that they'll have to cut down to only three meals a day. So, with the help of the son of one of the greatest footballers in the city's history, two cooks from the Night Kitchen and a young Orc who is trying to find value in his life, they put together a team and oh gods, I'm bored already. Seriously, I couldn't care less about football. The book's not really even about football, to be honest. It's about identity and self-image, two things that are inextricably tied up in sports and sports fandom. The book is a lot less subtle than usual, pretty much hitting you over the head with a mallet and saying, "You are who you choose to be!!" over and over again. Actually, what gets said over and over again is a variation on "A leopard can't change its shorts," a kind of humorous eggcorn that loses its humorous value after about the fifth time it gets used in the book. But it's pretty much the theme of the book - what is identity, and can it be changed? To explore this, we have, for example, Trevor Likely, the son of a famous (dead) footballer who has sworn to his (also dead) mother that he will never play football again after what happened to his father. He's introduced as a young layabout, a lazy grifter who works very hard at not having to work, and desperately doesn't want to live up to his responsibilities. Unfortunately for him , he falls in love with young Juliet, a beautiful - if somewhat dim - young woman who works in the Night Kitchen. Standing in the way of their love, however, is the fact that they support opposing teams, and her family would never allow her to see the young man if they knew. Hmmm. Trev and Juliet. Doesn't have the same ring, does it? Also mixed up in this is Glenda, the head of the Night Kitchen, whose identity as a below-the-stairs cook is so ingrained into her head that trying to become something else is almost unthinkable. The wizards themselves face an identity crisis as well - the Dean has gone off and accepted the Archchancellor's position at another university, and has now come back to try and stand as an equal to Ridcully, the head of the Unseen University. At the center of the book is Nutt, a strange young person who possesses a mysterious past. He looks a little odd, has an enormous intelligence, and harbors an unshakable desire to acquire self-worth, even if he's not entirely sure what that means. All of these people are trying to figure out the same thing - who they are. Some of them are surprised by what they find, others dismayed. Nutt discovers that he is an Orc, a race of creatures so hated and reviled that he could be killed on sight. Juliet discovers that her beauty is her path out of the kitchens, Glenda that her desire to control others can be focused into something productive, and Trevor that the destiny he has avoided for so long is what he always should have been. Threaded throughout all this is the love of the game, the dedication of these people to their football. Indeed, the identity of the game itself comes into play here as well - will it remain a violent street game, wherein the only rule is that there are no rules, or will it gain a sense of purpose and order? How will the old-school, bare-knuckle footy fans deal with the changes imposed upon their game by Lord Vetinari and the Wizards? It's hard for me to filter through the sports aspect of this book, which is disappointing because it's something that a lot of people will probably enjoy. There's something about the devotion to a sport or to a team that is very important to most people that I just don't get, and so my general lack of interest in this book is entirely my fault, and not Terry's. I enjoyed the identity theme, of course - that's always a rich seam of storytelling material. Watching Nutt come to grips with his identity as an Orc, or Glenda realize that her entire sense of self has been culturally imposed upon her, well, that was fascinating. It's just that there was a whole thematic element to the book that I couldn't identify with and didn't care about. It's kind of like listening to Mozart and wishing someone would just shut all those bloody violins up. So, if you're a fan of Discworld, pick this up. If you like sports, pick this up. If you don't like sports, well, you take your chances. As a Pratchett completist, there was no question about reading this book. But I don't think it'll be one that I come back to very often. It's not you, Terry. It's me. [1:] I think I made it to first base once in my Little League career, and actually got hit on the head by a fly ball - which, I am given to understand, are the easiest to catch. I nearly drowned myself repeatedly trying to learn how to sail. I used to knock myself over trying to kick goals in soccer, my trick ankles pretty much meant that tennis and basketball and any other activity involving quick stops and starts were out, and I got tired of being thrown to the ground real fast in judo. If there was ever such thing as an anti-athlete, I was it. I feared to shake hands with the jocks because I thought we'd both vanish in a cloud of photons. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Apr 26, 2010
|
May 01, 2010
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0060723939
| 9780060723934
| 0060723939
| 3.81
| 9,668
| 2007
| Jul 24, 2007
|
really liked it
|
The world is a weird place. This is as true now as it was fifty years ago, but there's one big difference between us here in the twenty-first century
The world is a weird place. This is as true now as it was fifty years ago, but there's one big difference between us here in the twenty-first century and our primitive twentieth-century forebears: they didn't have the internet. With the democratization of information, what was once only whispered about is now available to anyone who wants to see it. What few people knew, they can now share with the world. This is certainly true of science and history, culture and arts, but what concerns most people on the internet is not the finer, more cerebral aspects of culture. It's the porn. Have you heard of Rule 34, for example? The Rule states that, if it exists then there is porn of it somewhere on the internet. Remember your favorite childhood TV show? The one that you used to look forward to every week, and which perhaps you watched with your parents and/or siblings? You have fond memories of those times, I'm sure, and cherish the characters in your heart - characters that you grew to love and thought of as, dare I say it, family. Well somewhere on the internet there's a picture of them engaged in acts that would make the Baby Jesus weep. Weep, I tell you. [1:] And that's not the worst of it. Warren Ellis is arguably one of the current superstars of the internet, with a huge online following. He produces content every day, and it's followed by thousands of readers all over the world. Much of the time it's talk about fiction and the industry of fiction, perhaps promoting up and coming artists or talking about the projects he's working on. Sometimes it'll be a commentary on the World Today, though that's less often. His output is varied and always interesting, and occasionally comes with a link that says, simply, "Don't look." You looked, didn't you? Serves you right. Well when Warren sends one out, the consequences are much more severe. He links to people who are doing things - usually to their bodies - that I would shudder to describe. There are graphic photographs and descriptions by people who willingly cut, mar, mark and sever things that (in my opinion) really shouldn't be cut, marred, marked or - and I'd like to stress this - severed. Should you be so brave as to click on one of Warren's links (these days usually reading as, "Conan! What is best in life?"), you will see something that you probably never wanted to see, and which you most certainly cannot un-see. Keep in mind that Warren doesn't create these people. He doesn't find them and put them on the internet, unless he is far, far more diabolical than we give him credit for. He simply shows us where they are and lets us make up our own minds. To look, or not to look. To condemn, or not to condemn. Regardless, what he's showing us is a side of the world that most of us never knew existed, and were probably happy to have been ignorant of. The question then becomes, what are we going to do about it? In his book, Crooked Little Vein, the U.S. government has the answer to the rising tide of deviation that seems to have engulfed the country in the latter days. There exists a book - a Secret Constitution of the United States. It was allegedly bound in the skin of an extraterrestrial and is weighted with exotic meteorite stones. The act of opening the book creates a sonic pulse that resonates with the human eyeball and forces you to read it. In it you will find the secret Constitution and its twenty-three invisible amendments that tells Presidents what the true intent of the Founders was. For nearly two centuries this hidden document governed the country, until it was lost in the 1950s. Since then, America has slid into perversion and degradation, and the White House Chief of Staff wants private investigator Michael McGill to track it down. For his part, McGill wants nothing to do with it. Despite the huge amount of money that he stands to earn, he knows that taking this case will refocus the Universe's attention on him and he'll start to draw the freaks like iron filings to a magnet. And since finding the book is all about stopping the freaks, Mike is in for all of the weirdness that America can throw at him. Before he can find the book, Mike will have to confront the twisted, kinky and perverted side of the country and decide what is to become of it. This book works on a lot of layers. For one, it's a fun read, and you'll probably get through it pretty quickly. Ellis is an accomplished writer, with a vivid imagination and an excellent ear for dialogue. He also has a very good sense of written rhythm, which probably comes from his main gig as a writer of comic books. Some of the chapters are single sentences, meant to be read and absorbed in a moment, but also to be thought on. When you get to Chapter 6, which simply reads, "I wish I still had that photo," you're meant to take a moment to think about what that means, both to the character and to the story. What this means is that not only does Ellis know that he's telling us a story, he's vividly aware of the medium through which he is doing it and exploits that very well. It shows an awareness that most authors lack, or at the very least don't often take advantage of. I have only one nit to pick about Ellis' writing, though, and I'm sure he will subject me to Horrors the likes of which you cannot fathom for pointing them out, but not to do so would mean I was shirking in my duties. This is how much I love you all. While it is set in the United States, and is something of a dirty love letter to the country, there is a distinctly British English tone to some of the writing. Not too much, just enough to make you notice, if you're the kind of person who notices these things. His narrator uses the verb "trod" at one point, as in "I trod on her foot," which doesn't sound very American to my ears. Likewise, he refers to wainscot and leatherette, words which ring with a certain amount of Britishness. Maybe it's just me, but they kind of stood out. Your experience may vary. [2:] Anyway, beyond the simple entertainment of reading the book, there are some very real things to think about in there. For example, in an age where anyone can put up a webpage, what does it mean to be "mainstream?" What's more, what does it mean to be "underground" these days? Fifty years ago, homosexuality was something that most decent, God-fearing people didn't even know about, much less experience. Now there are openly gay actors, athletes and politicians, and the "gay next-door neighbor" is already a character so common that it's become a cliche. Is S&M, for example, "underground" when we've been making jokes about it in TV and movies for years? How about swingers? Hell even the pedophiles are mainstream, which you'd know if you were a viewer of Family Guy. How long with it be until we see saline injection fetishists, macroherpetophiles or functioning heroin addicts as being simply part of the endlessly variegated crazy quilt that is American culture? What's more, should we allow all these people into the cultural mainstream? Is there a kink limit for society? Is there something that people can do to themselves, or to other consenting adults, that is just so Out There that we have to draw the line and say "No further, weirdo!" For those of us who are a bit more open-minded than most, can we turn around and decry the whitebread people who like their vanilla lives and sexual predictability? Who will make that judgment call, and how? In this book, it's the U.S. Government that's trying to do it, and they'll roll the country back to the Fifties if they can. One of the wonderful and scary things about living in the Internet Age is that these cultural rules have yet to set in. We're looking around and seeing all the strangeness that we never knew was there and deciding in the moment what's acceptable and what isn't. Should we appreciate these unusual practices for their creativity and for the flavor they lend our culture, or should we snuff them out in the name of some notion of "Decency?" Ellis' answer is pretty clear once you get through the book, and I have to agree with him. I've always been on the side of personal liberty, so long as you're not hurting anyone who doesn't want to get hurt. As for those of us who might be a little weirded out by knowing what it is that people get up to in their bedrooms, remember - you don't have to click on the link. Either way it's a serious philosophical issue for the 21st century, and Ellis has done a very fine job of presenting it to us. Beyond the book, I have no doubt he will continue to do so. [1:] Rule 35, by the way, states that the if no porn is found of it, it will be made. [2:] Warren's eels are doubtless on their way for me now. Run! Save yourselves!! ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Feb 19, 2010
|
Feb 21, 2010
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 9780974116044
| 4.09
| 1,351
| 2009
| Oct 04, 2009
|
it was amazing
|
There's something inherently sad about child actors. They're called upon to do what older actors have been doing their whole lives, often acting along
There's something inherently sad about child actors. They're called upon to do what older actors have been doing their whole lives, often acting alongside people who know their craft so much better than they do. To match the level of their adult counterparts, they have to work just that much harder, and they still get pigeonholed into fairly flat characters. For a lot of directors, even a poor child actor is good enough to fill out the character that has been created for him or her, so expectations are usually pretty low. In the end, a lot of child actors either burn out or give up. Wil Wheaton wasn't a bad actor as a kid - anyone who watched Stand By Me can agree on that. He certainly wasn't what he could have become, but as child actors went, he did okay. Perhaps if he had been given the right roles with the right people, he would still be acting today and impressing us with the depth of his talent. As it was, he was on Star Trek: The Next Generation, which sent him down, let us say, a different path. Wheaton's experience on TNG was one that a lot of the fans (and I count myself among them) seriously under-appreciate. From the age of fourteen, he was given the unenviable role of playing one of the most despised characters in modern science fiction, at least before Jar Jar showed up. In the early heyday of the internet, before liveblogging and Twitter and Facebook, there was Usenet - an early internet discussion group. And one of those early groups was the infamous alt.wesley.crusher.die.die.die. The fans would speak of "The Wesley Crusher Problem" and write horrible fanfiction that would put Ensign Crusher through some of the most depraved torments they could think of. A small, but very vocal segment of the TNG fan base actively hated Wesley and, by extension, Wheaton. I think he could have easily been forgiven for dropping out of the public eye forever after being treated like that. Fortunately for us, he has chosen otherwise. With the growth of the Internet, Wheaton has really found his place. He's a tech evangelist and one of the most active bloggers out there, discussing tech, games, family, politics, and whatever else he feels like talking about. He's carved out a space for himself that doesn't rest on his Star Trek credentials, and even if he had never been on the show, he'd still be a fine and upstanding member of the online community. Surprisingly enough, he does not reject his days as Wesley Crusher, but embraces them. As terrible as it could be sometimes as The Kid - overlooked by writers and directors, hated by fans - he still got to do what most fourteen year-old boys (including this one) can only dream of doing: playing a space explorer on TV. He got to work with a group of fine men and women, and helped to create a show that would be truly beloved around the world. On balance, the good vastly outweighed the bad, and Wheaton was able to fold that experience into his life, making him a better person for it. Memories of the Future is Wheaton's tribute to his days on Star Trek. As he describes it, the book isn't a salacious tell-all, revealing all of Trek's dirty secrets. It's more like "you're flipping through your high school yearbook with your friends." It's an honest look at the first half of the first season, described only as someone who truly loves it can do: with snark, sarcasm and admiration for the work, but no illusions about when it was... shall we say, less than up to snuff. It starts with Encounter at Farpoint and goes up to Datalore, covering the first twelve episodes of Season 1 (the summaries of the remaining episodes are forthcoming in volume 2). Each episode is summarized, in a hilarious and sarcastic fashion. True to his geek roots, he manages to work in references to all of the sacred touchstones: Monty Python, collectible card gaming, Dungeons and Dragons, and of course, the other Star franchise which we shall not name. He isn't afraid to call out the writers when they make stupid choices, such as Dr. Crusher asking to bring Wesley onto the bridge during a major diplomatic/security crisis (Code of Honor) or having him casually solve a major plot point that all the experts in the room have been breaking their brains over, and then leave with a snide, "Heh. Adults." (The Battle). There's quotable dialogue included for each episode, ("Oh, your species is always suffering and dying" - Q, Hide and Q) and Obligatory Technobabble ("Come off the main lead, split off at the force activator, then reversing the power leads through the force activator, repulsor beam powers against Tsiolkovsky!" - Wesley, The Naked Now). There's also a Behind the Scenes Memory, giving us a good look at what it was like for Wheaton to work on the show, often showcasing how little he really knew about what was going on, and a section called The Bottom Line, which looks at each episode in the context of the whole series. The episode recaps are at once both sentimental and brutally honest. Where there are flaws in the creative process, Wheaton points them out with a kind of rabid glee. Where there are gems of creativity, he shows us where they are as well. It's the kind of look at TNG that could only have been done by someone who was a part of the show and loved it. He writes with clarity and honesty and, just to be sure I point it out again, humor. Lots and lots of humor. It's a very quick read, and a very enjoyable one. For bonus points, go find the "Memories of the Futurecast" podcast, wherein Wheaton reads selections from the book. It's even funnier than reading it, and is a good way to kill fifteen or twenty minutes. And we podcasters have to stick together, right Wil? You and me, right? Right? I may be overestimating our camaraderie. If you're a Trek fan, this book will be a nice visit to a better time. What's more, this will probably make you want to go watch the first season again, if only to see if some of those early episodes are nearly as bad as he's making them out to be. I can't wait for volume 2. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Feb 13, 2010
|
Feb 14, 2010
|
Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
| 057506689X
| 9780575066892
| 057506689X
| 4.06
| 81,270
| 1994
| 1999
|
really liked it
|
"Music is my life." How many times have you heard that? From bona fide rock stars to teenage wannabes, there's something about music that occupies us, "Music is my life." How many times have you heard that? From bona fide rock stars to teenage wannabes, there's something about music that occupies us, that possesses us and just won't let go. Even if you're not a big music lover, there are probably songs which can ease your mind, pull you out of a dark mood, or set your heart to racing. There's music that'll lift your heart and make you think the world is a better place than it really is, and songs that will convince you that the dark heart of the world is just as decayed and corrupt as you always thought it was. Music has a kind of magic in it that can reach to the very core of who we are as thinking - and more importantly, feeling - beings. That magic is dangerous enough on our world, where magic doesn't actually exist. Imagine how powerful it would be on one where magic really was real. Like, say, to pick one out of thin air, the Discworld. Of course, the Discworld has had its share of trouble with popular entertainment before. Acting troupes brought about an Elf invasion in Lords and Ladies and the Horrible Betentacled Things of the Dungeon Dimension nearly escaped thanks to the Disc's proto-cinema in Moving Pictures. There's just something about the arts in Discworld that leads to trouble - usually the world-ending kind. In this case, though, the introduction of rock and roll - better known in Ankh-Morpork as "Music with Rocks In" - is only really dangerous to one person, the young Imp y Celyn. Just eighteen years old and already one of the best bards of Llamados, he wants to make something of his life. He wants to be more than just another bard, and in a mysterious shop that has only recently always been where it was, he finds his chance. Or rather, his chance finds him. A guitar-like instrument that does what no guitar should do - it whines, it growls, it sends out noises that run straight down your spine and make your nerves run with fire. It's clearly not of this world, and it wants nothing more than to live. For that, it needs to change Imp's fate, and by extension the fate of hundreds in Ankh-Morpork. Soon, Imp and his band - The Band With Rocks In - are the most famous thing in the city, and the strange magic of this music is being felt everywhere. Even the wizards are helpless against it. Normally this would result in the aforementioned Horrible Betentacled Things, but in this case it's more of a reversion to teenage years that never were. Still, Archchancellor Ridcully knows that there's some force acting on people that shouldn't be there, and nothing good ever comes of that. As if that weren't enough, Death has decided to get existential and tries to figure out how he can make himself forget for a while. Why he decides to do this is not clearly explored, but it results in him leaving his duty. In his place comes his young Granddaughter, Susan, who would be great for the job if she didn't think the whole idea of personifying a force of nature was just romantic woolly thinking. And it would be even better if she knew what her connection was to the doomed musician Imp y Celyn. This book can be seen as a companion to the earlier Moving Pictures as an examination of and homage to popular culture. By transplanting it to the Discworld, Pratchett is able to look at rock music from the point of view of people who've never even thought about such a thing before, and who can more easily see the magic of it. And of course, it's his big chance to make as many music jokes, puns and references as humanly possible, from the translation of Imp's name ("Imp" meaning "small bud" and "Celyn" meaning 'of the holly") to some proto-heavy metal musicians trying to make leopard skin pants from a cat that has some severe hearing difficulties. It's a sort of love letter to rock and roll and all that it has brought us. From teenyboppers to punk to the horrible misuses of leather and spandex, it holds a mirror up to the way that rock music has influenced our modern culture. But it does not mock, oh no. It shws great attention to and reverence for this young art form that has done so much to change the world. To list all the references made in this book would be nearly impossible, but the amount of work and thought that went into making it is quite clear. More importantly, though, the book addresses some questions that are a little deeper than the simple rock and roll jokes. Like Death's question: "WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT? SERIOUSLY? WHEN YOU GET RIGHT DOWN TO IT?" Probably since the beginning of music, people have tried to find meaning in it. People have connected to music and to musicians in ways that they could never connect to other people, even family and friends. People find meaning in music, which then gives meaning to their lives, and the more you give your life to something, the harder the crash when that thing goes away. Imp discovers this in a very literal sense, but out here in the real world that is just as true. People mourned for Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, Kurt Cobain and other superstars as if they knew them. And in a way, I'm sure they thought they did. Like so much else in the world, though, music doesn't have any meaning but what we give to it. The truly great musicians, the ones we always lose too soon, give everything they have. They manage to say to us what we've been saying to ourselves, but could never really figure out how to put into words. Music is the voice our emotions could use if our brains didn't get in the way so often, and the best people lucky enough to be able to create it gain a kind of immortality. Not the literal kind, unfortunately. If you love music - especially rock music - then this is a book you should pick up and read. Even if you're not a Discworld fan, you'll probably enjoy it. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Jan 30, 2010
|
Feb 05, 2010
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0552152943
| 9780552152945
| 0552152943
| 3.97
| 83,082
| 1990
| Jul 04, 2005
|
liked it
|
Given a choice between books and movies, many people - myself included - will say that books are always better than movies. "You can use your imaginat
Given a choice between books and movies, many people - myself included - will say that books are always better than movies. "You can use your imagination," we'll say, "drawing on the powers of the human mind to create things that manifestly are not real. You can decide for yourself what the scenes look like and how the characters appear, rather than have some director feed his or her vision over yours." Despite that, however, we all still love the movies. If you gave me a novelization of Casablanca, for example, I would be hard-pressed to say honestly that it's better than the movie. There's just something about movies, how they take images and ideas and just pour them into your head whole. Ideas and emotions flood your mind, evading the more analytical parts of your brain (if it's a really good movie) and heading straight for the unconscious. Oh sure, you might analyze it later - take it apart for meaning and symbolism, dissecting the casting choices or praising the story arc. But for those couple of hours, when you're staring at the screen, there's magic happening. We're lucky that we know what to do with it. On the Discworld, though, movie magic is something new, and something very, very dangerous. You see, one of the flaws of the Discworld is that it's not horribly real. Not as real as our world, certainly, but just about as real as you can be, if you're a flat world being carried on the backs of four elephants, who are in turn standing on a turtle that swims through the stars. It has been shown in many other volumes that reality on the Disc is negotiable and variable. And if something should come along to make the Disc slightly less real, then that could be a danger to everyone. In a dry and sunny place far from Ankh-Morpork, something stirs. Long held at bay by ancient rituals and safeguards, something primal has finally been allowed out into the world, and it seeks the minds of those who dream. It is the dream of a place called Holy Wood, and it is where reality itself may be torn asunder. It calls many people to create thse dreams. It calls young Victor Tugelbend, the best bad Wizard student in the Unseen University. He wants nothing more than to live a life of leisure, without actually having to work. It calls Silverfish, an alchemist who has very nearly mastered the art of making octo-cellulose. With it, he hopes to change the world. It calls Rock, a troll down from the mountains who dreams of doing more with his life than just hitting things. And it calls C.M.O.T. Dibbler, the greatest opportunist and worst entrepreneur in Ankh-Morpork. Without really knowing why, they all head to Holy Wood, where the sun always shines and the clicks can be made on the cheap. A strange city springs up, made not of solid brick and mortar buildings, but shacks with false fronts, a city that is completely modular and impermanent. There they build worlds and lives and, yes, dreams. Through them, the people of Ankh-Morpork can dream as well. All those dreams, though, are a shining beacon for Things that live beyond the boundaries of our universe. They seek the warmth and light of our world, and will exploit any opportunity to break through. By bringing dreams to life, the people of Holy Wood risk dooming the world to nightmares. I could, if I wanted, just start to catalog all the movie references that Pratchett makes in this book, but that would be ridiculous. Besides, someone has already done that for me, over at L-Space, and even they say it's impossible to list them all. Suffice it to say, if enough people remember it from classic cinema, then it's in this book in one way or another. If it's a story told about Hollywood and they heyday of the studio system, then it's in here too. Whether you're an avid fan of the cinema or you just watch whatever your friends are watching, you should be able to get a lot of enjoyment out of this. The themes that Pratchett explores in this book are interesting, too. One of these is the nature of fame. In one scene, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, a man who holds the life of the city in his hands, is seated next to Vincent and Ginger, the Disc's first movie superstars. Even though the Patrician has worked hard to become the ruler of the city, even though he is responsible for the lives and well-being of everyone in it, he is still far less famous and beloved than these two people who are famous just for standing in front of a camera and saying things. And even though he knows this, he still feels an odd thrill that he's actually sitting next to them. In our own world, we hold celebrities to be almost apart from the rest of us - although that may erode slowly as social media such as Twitter and Facebook open up more and more of their mundane lives to their fans. Still, if we see someone famous in the grocery store or on the bus, we think, "Oh my god! That's [famous person:]! He's buying broccoli here, just like me!!" Even though they are made of the same flesh and blood that we are, we perceive them as something Other, often even confusing them with the characters they play. In our world that's merely annoying, but on the Discworld, it's downright dangerous. The power of belief, coupled with Holy Wood's need to make dreams into reality, are a potent and disastrous mix. As he does so often, Pratchett is using his world to comment on our own, and in doing so is taking note of the immense power that Hollywood has. I heard someone say once that America's greatest export is unlike that of any other country. Our greatest export is Dreams. And dreams can be wonderful or they can be horrible. But their power to affect the world should never be underestimated. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Jan 28, 2010
|
Jan 31, 2010
|
Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 0552154180
| 9780552154185
| 0552154180
| 4.00
| 58,867
| 1998
| Feb 12, 2006
|
liked it
|
Quick - what do you know about Australia? I reckon if you live in Australia, you probably know quite a lot. If you've known someone from Australia or p Quick - what do you know about Australia? I reckon if you live in Australia, you probably know quite a lot. If you've known someone from Australia or perhaps have visited there, you might know a few things. If your experience is limited to a few "Crocodile Dundee" movies and the Crocodile Hunter, then you could probably stand to know a little more. No matter what your level of Australiana is, though, you probably know at least enough to get a lot of enjoyment out of this book, Terry Pratchett's homage to the strangest continent on Earth. Now keep in mind, Pratchett does state quite clearly that this is not a book about Australia. "It's about somewhere entirely different which happens to be, here and there, a bit... Australian." So that's okay then. Really, this is Pratchett's homage to Australia, a country that he clearly likes a lot. In reality, Australia is a pretty strange place. It's a giant island, most of which is barren desert. It's been disconnected from the other continents for so long that evolution has given us species unlike any others on Earth. Pretty much anything that you come across, from the lowliest spider to the cutest jellyfish to the weirdest platypus, is deadly. The country is a tribute to Nature, both in its beauty and its danger, and really deserves more attention than it gets. In one memorable scene, Death asks his Library for a complete list of dangerous animals on the continent known as XXXX, aka Fourecks. He is immediately buried under books, including Dangerous Mammals, Reptiles, Amphibians, Birds, Fish, Jellyfish, Insects, Spiders, Crustaceans, Grasses, Trees, Mosses and Lichens of Terror Incognita, volume 29c, part three. A slight exaggeration? Perhaps. He then asks for a complete list of species that are not deadly, and gets a small leaflet on which is written, "Some of the sheep." This book isn't about Death, though, as much fun as that may be. This is about the worst wizard on the Disc. The classic inadvertent hero, who had seen so much of the world but only as a blur while he ran from danger. The hero who truly just wants to be left alone, perhaps with a potato - Rincewind. What you most need to know about Rincewind is that he absolutely does not want to be a hero. He craves a boring life, one in which the most he has to worry about is whether to have his potatoes baked, mashed, or deep fried. He does not want to be chased by mad highwaymen, put in prison for sheep theft, or required to completely change the climate of an entire continent. He doesn't want to time travel, be guided by strange, otherworldly kangaroos or fall in with a troupe of suspiciously masculine female performers. He just wants peace and quiet. The universe, of course, has other ideas. And so it is up to Rincewind to once again save the day. The continent of Fourecks has never seen rain - in fact, they think the very idea of water that falls from the sky is ludicrous. But there are legends of what they call The Wet - the day when water will be found on the surface of the ground, rather than hundreds of feet below it. And while they don't know how it will happen exactly, they do know it will happen. Lucky for Rincewind, the universe has chosen him to make sure that it does. I really can't list all of the Australia references because there are just too many. From drop bears to Vegemite, Mad Max to Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, they're pretty much all there. This book is, like so many other Discworld, books, a lot of fun to read. One of the more interesting sections in the book is one that's not strictly necessary. Exploring a strange window in the University which, for some reason, leads to a beach, the Wizards of the Unseen University find themselves marooned thousands of miles away and thousands of years back in time. On this weird little island, they meet one of the most unusual gods on the Disc - the god of evolution. This god isn't interested in the normal godly things - lolling about and being worshiped, occasionally smiting a few followers here and there. As Pratchett puts it, "It is a general test of the omnipotence of a god that they can see the fall of a tiny bird. But only one god makes notes, and a few adjustments, so that next time it can fall further and faster." This god of evolution is devoted to making life forms better, often one at a time, and lives on a strange little island where there's only one of everything, but everything yearns to be useful. With him, the wizards are able to explore evolution and natural selection and figure out why sex is just so darn useful. I say that this section isn't strictly necessary because it just isn't. It's certainly interesting, and I suppose the god's island is a nice echo of the real Australia, where evolution has had a long time to tinker and come up with some really weird stuff, but in terms of the story, it's not all that important a plot point. In fact, the wizards in general don't contribute much to the story other than to make it longer and funnier. Their exploration of evolution and Rincewind's unwilling quest to bring rain to the barren land of Fourecks are almost wholly unrelated to each other, up until the very end. This isn't to say that they're unwelcome - I love watching the wizards explore the world. The combination of personalities whenever all the wizards get together is one that offers endless hours of reading fun, and I think that without them, the book would have been less enjoyable. They're just not essential to the plot, is all, and if that kind of thing is important to you, then you might not enjoy this book so much. Me, I love science and I love Discworld. While the actual Science of Discworld series was kind of dry and boring in the end, I love it when Pratchett explores real-world science through the eyes of his Discworld characters. By looking at science from another perspective, he is able to make it perhaps a little more understandable to people who otherwise might write science off as "too hard." This book is a trip through time and space and Australia. It's a long, strange trip, to be sure, but an entertaining one. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Jan 24, 2010
|
Jan 30, 2010
|
Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 0578032147
| 9780578032146
| 0578032147
| 3.65
| 4,753
| Jul 13, 2009
| Jul 13, 2009
|
really liked it
|
You all know I love apocalypses, if that is indeed the correct pluralization. There's just something about the end of the world that really gets me go
You all know I love apocalypses, if that is indeed the correct pluralization. There's just something about the end of the world that really gets me going, and if it can be done with some sense of humor and insight, that's even better. Mercury Falls has the distinction of being the first full-length book I've read on my Kindle, and let me say that it was a good christening. While I'm not writing a Kindle review, I have to admit that the device works very well. It's easy to read, easy to make notes and mark interesting passages, and it fits in my bag a lot better than a 352 page paperback would. So, score one for the Kindle. This being the ADD Age of Twitter, I don't exactly remember how I first ran across Robert Kroese. He may have been re-tweeted by someone, or popped up on a Facebook update, or implanted into my mind while I slept (thank you, Dreamr.com!) I don't know. What I do know is that the man is relentless in promoting his work. He keeps up an excellent level of interactivity with his Twitter and Facebook followers and finds ways to increase the word-of-mouth marketing that he needs, since this book was self-published and can use all the marketing help it can get. Under his incessant barrage, I bought the book for the Kindle, and it turned out to be fortuitous. Divinely inspired, perhaps, as though it were part of a larger plan. Hmmm.... One of the central themes of the End of the World, whether it's the Biblical Apocalypse or any other, is that it has to happen. There's just no way around it - sooner or later the forces of Good and the forces of Evil will duke it out on the Earth to see who's the baddest bunch around. When asked why they would bother, the usual answer is that it's part of God's Plan, and that's all we need to know. So we imagine that while we miserable humans must be kept in the dark, there must be someone who knows what's going on. A prophet, perhaps the angels who are doing the fighting - God, definitely, right? Not really, Kroese suggests. He presents the reader with a celestial bureaucracy that makes the U.S. Government look like a small-town McDonald's on a slow day. There are levels within levels, rank upon rank of angelic bureaucrats and agents and paper-pushers, all working towards what they believe the Divine Plan involves. The problem is that no one is entirely sure what that plan actually is. But like all good bureaucrats everywhere, they don't care. There are rules, there are regulations, and they must be followed. What happens, however, when the Plan breaks down? Well, that's when things get messy. The human woman Christine Temetri, a reporter on the apocalypse beat at a nationally-read newspaper, The Banner, is about to find out just how awry things can go when the Divine Plan gets all cocked up. On an assignment to cover the latest skirmish between Israel and Syria, Christine is entrusted with a Very Important Only he's not a cult leader, really. He's an angel. A fallen one, yes, but an angel nonetheless, and he's the only angel who plans to sit out the end of the world. He's happy to do card tricks and play ping-pong, at least until Christine shows up and drags him back into the fray. Together, they have to not only figure out how to stop the apocalypse, but how to make sure they stop the right apocalypse, and see to it that it's done with as little damage as possible. They don't really succeed on that last part, but they certainly make a valiant effort. The entertainment in this book is not so much in the plot, which is in the political thriller mode with twists and turns and reveals a-plenty, to say nothing of shootings, explosions and pillars of fire. There are two major things that make the book entertaining. First is the cosmology that Kroese has built up. The idea of a Heavenly Bureaucracy is not a new one, but he takes it rather a step further. In one scene, a couple of angels are taking pity on humanity because we pitiful humans are running around, making decisions without knowing for sure whether they're right or wrong. The angels believe they are superior in that they have a Plan to follow - but they freely admit that they aren't entirely sure if the Plan they're following is the right one. "We assume that we're part of a system that ultimately makes sense to [the Archangel:] Michael, or God, or someone. All the little details may not make sense to us, but we go along with it anyway." In other words, the angels are just like us, except that they can fly, do miracles, and are immortal. The bastards. In a later section, the characters are given a look at how the whole celestial bureaucracy is set up, and discover that even the angels don't know for sure who's actually in charge of anything. They just do what the Plan tells them to do and hope for the best. So what we have here is a bureaucratic cosmology. It works, but no one is entirely sure how it works. And as Christine discovers, the benefit to not knowing the actual plan is that you are then free to do what you think is right. While the book is obviously centered around the Judeo-Christian framework, it's not a religious book. It doesn't address whether there is or is not a God, or whether religion is a fundamental necessity to humanity or a primitive hang-up, or neither, or both. What it's about is the idea of choice, a topic covered pretty explicitly in chapter thirteen. The boiled-down version is that we may or may not have free will, and we can never really know, so it's best to just pretend that we do. What this means, then, is maintaining a healthy dose of skepticism about what you are told is the right or necessary thing to do. This does lead to some editorializing at times, which is pretty obvious when you hit it. As soon as you get to a section where two characters are engaged in a Socratic dialogue with each other, you definitely get the feeling that it's Kroese putting his two cents in. This would be annoying if I disagreed with him, or if it was written with less wit. As it stands, I read it with the kind of patience I reserve for my really funny friends when they hit a topic they actually care about - I'll listen along, because I know it'll be good, but at the same time I'll feel a little uncomfortable that they've decided to be serious for once. Which brings me to the second reason I enjoyed the book - it's damned funny. It reminded me in various places of Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently books, as well as the fine work of Christopher Moore. There was plenty of narrative commentary, which was sarcastic and biting, and the characters often matched wits with each other at lightning speed. There were many parts that I re-read because I was sure I had missed something in the exchange, and it turned out I was right - and what I had missed was worth going back for. I put my Kindle's highlighting function to good use, let me just say that. While I have trained myself to hold in my guffaws, in accordance with social norms here in Japan, there were a few points where I just couldn't help but draw the stares of my fellow train passengers. On a tangent: there was a moment in the book that made me think of the infamous LJ RaceFail of '09, something I had hoped to not have to think of again for a while. When Christine meets Mercury for the first time, we're introduced to two people. One is a short, dumpy man of Chinese ancestry, and the other is a tall, handsome white guy, and they're playing ping-pong. When Christine asks for Galileo Mercury, the tall, handsome white guy leads her to believe that his opponent is the one she wants. He then reveals, of course, that he's just messing with her. "Is there some law," he says, "that a Chinese dude can't be named Galileo?" And then, "But you have to admit, it would be pretty funny if Galileo Mercury was a Chinese dude." He then sends the Chinese dude out to get some sodas. This made me ask myself, "Well... why not? Why couldn't Galileo Mercury have been a dumpy Chinese guy?" It's not really apropos of anything - the presumed ethnicity of the character (who is an angel, after all) is utterly irrelevant to the rest of the story - but I would have been very impressed if Kroese had made his celestial action hero a less obvious action hero. Just a thought. Tangent over. So, a fine first novel from a clever new author. You really can't ask for much more than that, in my opinion, and I look forward to seeing more of Kroese's work in the future. As he improves his craft, he may become a force to be reckoned with in the fantasy/comedy genre, so keep your eyes on him. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Nov 23, 2009
|
Nov 23, 2009
|
Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 0060590254
| 9780060590253
| 0060590254
| 3.81
| 45,472
| Oct 01, 2004
| Oct 12, 2004
|
liked it
|
It's an old saw, but a good one - Be Careful What You Wish For. It's the staple theme of many a cautionary tale, which I suppose we could say this boo
It's an old saw, but a good one - Be Careful What You Wish For. It's the staple theme of many a cautionary tale, which I suppose we could say this book is. It's a warning I've always kept close to my heart, even though I know I have no rational reason to do so. For example, I might wake up one morning, tired from a poor night's sleep, and a thought will emerge from my brain - "I wish I could just stay in bed all the time." I have to squash that thought, because I know it'll inevitably lead to some mystical creature appearing in a puff of smoke, saying "IT IS DONE!" at which point I get hit by a bus and become a quadriplegic. No thank you, sir. I'm lucky - I learned this lesson from reading the right stories and watching the right movies. Little Josh Barker of Pine Cove, California didn't seem to have that advantage. To be fair, though, he was under a lot of stress. He had just seen Santa Claus get killed with a shovel to the throat, and that'll mess up any seven-year-old's day. So when an angel - an honest-to-god Angel shows up in town, looking for a child to grant a Christmas Wish to, what else is a boy to do but wish that Santa would come back? If it had been any angel but Raziel, it might have worked. Another angel might have gotten more details from the child about where Dead Santa was, rather than just "Out behind the church." Another angel might have been more diligent in making sure the child got what he wanted, rather than what he asked for. Another angel might not have carelessly caused a zombie invasion of the weird little town of Pine Cove. But this is Raziel, who has that most unfortunate of personality combinations - stupidity and confidence. Mix in a little laziness, and you have a recipe for the most horrible Christmas celebration ever. This book is nice, entertaining, and very silly. Intentionally silly, really - try as I might, I couldn't find too many overarching themes or messages other than the one I've already mentioned - be careful what you wish for. Alongside the unmedicated movie queen, the Evil Developer, the doped-up constable, and the talking fruitbat (who chooses not to talk, of course) you'll find a diverse cast of bizarre characters that you're not sure you'd ever really want to hang out with. I mean, don't get me wrong but Pine Cove seems like that weird little town where they're just one bad day away from, well, a zombie apocalypse. And god help you if you are the one who decided to wear your red Star Trek shirt to the annual Christmas costume party. So if you like zombies, dope paranoia, swords and some good laughs, check out this book. As Christmas stories go, I can guarantee you've never read anything quite like it. It's funny, not entirely scary, and written in Moore's very conversational style that makes you want to turn around to your friends and co-workers and read passages out loud, no matter that they've developed a Pavlovian twitch every time you open your mouth while staring at a page.... It's also a kind of Christopher Moore All-Star story, so if you're a fan of his other works, you may see some of your favorite characters show up in these pages. And that's always fun, although if he had added Biff and Maggie, I would have been a thousand times happier with it.... ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Jul 22, 2009
|
Jul 29, 2009
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0525950346
| 9780525950349
| 0525950346
| 3.79
| 6,901
| 2008
| Oct 21, 2008
|
really liked it
|
FACT: The Declaration of Independence was not the original creation of Thomas Jefferson, but was instead inspired by the work of Mole-Man declarationi
FACT: The Declaration of Independence was not the original creation of Thomas Jefferson, but was instead inspired by the work of Mole-Man declarationists. FACT: The true sport of kings, and the only one of which a professional gambler will avail himself, is that of hermit crab racing. FACT: Andrew Jackson was the first president to wear a necklace of human skulls at his inauguration. FACT: The first moon landing was achieved in 1802, when Napoleon Bonaparte stepped onto the lunar surface with his conquering army. The horse skeletons are remarkably well-preserved. WERE YOU AWARE OF IT? Well, now you are. In his first book, The Areas of my Expertise, John Hodgman claimed that he had provided us with "an almanac of complete world knowledge" that related matters historical, matters literary, matters cryptozoological, and of course, hobo matters, among many others. A read through this book, an almanac of interesting facts that were in no way, shape or form what is commonly known as "true," was a demonstration of why fiction is inherently better than reality in that it is usually far more interesting. By the time you finished reading the book, he suggested, you truly would know everything you needed to know, regardless of whether it actually happened to be true. So if the previous book was an almanac of complete world knowledge, why write another book? Surely complete world knowledge can't be added to? Well, Hodgman addresses that question right away. What it comes down to is very simply that, in the few short years since the publication of The Areas of my Expertise - new things have happened. I know it's hard to believe, and you may want to sit down and think about that for a moment. Not the least of these new things is that Hodgman has become a famous minor television personality, which has gained him all the fame, riches and power you might expect. Following the publication of that book, Hodgman became a regular on The Daily Show and, of course, starred in the now-famous Mac/PC ads as the fuddy-duddy PC who puts up with the douchebaggery of the Mac. Yeah, I really don't like the Mac guy. But maybe that's just because I really like Hodgman. He has come down from the luxury zeppelin he bought from Emo Philips in order to provide us with more world knowledge - this time touching on what he has discovered about the okapi, the secret history of the Mole-Men, and the secret cult that lives in Park Slope, Brooklyn - an exclusive neighborhood that can be accessed only upon having reached the status of famous minor television celebrity. It's a paradise, so long as you do not antagonize the children, who are allowed to kill you at their whim. As with the previous book, this is a good piece of entertainment. Its jokes loop back and forth on themselves, referencing passages not only elsewhere in the book, but also on the pages of its predecessor (and for the sake of convenience, the page numbering for this book picks up where that of the previous book left off.) Its facts (or "facts") are conveniently bolstered with handy charts and striking black and white photography that makes for a fascinating afternoon's reading. The intricate creativity that has been poured into building a bizarre alternate history of the United States is one that earns only the most sincere respect from me. Anyone with an imagination fertile enough to come up with things like Your Twelve Month Spleencast (a guide to telling the future using pig spleens (tip: it's going to be pretty awful)), a Teddy Roosevelt List that puts Chuck Norris' to shame, and a complete table of Brushes of Fame (with Hodgman as the famous person) deserves every cent I can give him. One of his great regrets, as he tells us in this book, is that The Areas of my Expertise was never made into a page-a-day desk calendar. Such a mark of true success has only been reached by such luminaries as Gary Larson and the Secret Cabal of Crossword Puzzle Writers who are battling the Jumblemancers for control of the United States. In order that his second book might escape such ignominy, Hodgman has provided an interesting fact for each day of the year on each page. So, if you tear out the pages after reading them, voila! You have a page-a-day calendar. And some of the bits are truly inspired. The listing for September 11th, for example, shows why that day of all days is truly unforgettable. But that is not all! Not yet, anyway. He is planning to continue his work into a third volume, due out whenever he manages to finish it. I assure you, Mr. Hodgman, I will be waiting eagerly for it. It's a strange type of humor, but then Hodgman is a strange type of guy. It's the sort of thing that only he could pull off, lying in such earnest detail that you wish it were true only because it sounds just so much fun. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
Jun 16, 2009
|
Jun 16, 2009
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0374103690
| 9780374103699
| 0374103690
| 3.61
| 874
| Oct 14, 2008
| Oct 14, 2008
|
really liked it
|
When I was last home for Christmas, my mother pretty much shoved this book into my hands and said, "You have to read this." And far be it from me to i
When I was last home for Christmas, my mother pretty much shoved this book into my hands and said, "You have to read this." And far be it from me to ignore my mother's advice, except possibly that little tidbit about being trapped in a Vogon airlock with a man from Betelgeuse and about to die of asphyxiation in deep space. I kinda spaced out on that one. Probably wasn't important.... Anyway, Mom was right. Like nearly everyone else in my family, I am a lover of language. I read voraciously (as you well know), I've dabbled in writing - songs, stories and poems - and I make a living teaching non-speakers the joys of being English speakers. I grew up in a literate household, with a mother who used to teach me Latin roots whenever I asked "What does this mean?" My words are the way I express my thoughts and the way I understand the world, and as such they are as precious jewels - to be cherished and admired, used with elegance and style, and not wasted on fripperies and tacky indulgence. Roy Blount Jr is a kindred spirit indeed. He's a humorist, the author of about two dozen books and a regular panelist on one of my favorite radio shows - Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me.... He talks with a slow southern drawl and never seems to hurry. This is the kind of person who savors his language and treasures his words. He's not only interested in the meanings of words, or the sounds, but in the very feel of them. And if you're the kind of person who never thought about how words feel when you say them, this book might do you some good. Think of a word. Any word. How about doldrums? It's a great word, a "sonicky" word, to use the term that Blount coins in this book to mean "a word whose sound doesn't imitate the concept it represents (like boom or poof), but rather evokes the essence of the word." Say that word out loud - doldrums. Doldrummmmsss.... If you were asked to come up with a word that describes a seemingly endless, unchanging environment, you could do worse than this one. It's got flat vowels, heavy and pendulous, that practically sit in the bottom of your mouth, defying your tongue's attempt to shift them. Then it ends in a flat hum that becomes a thin and lifeless hiss. Doldrums. It is clear that Blount takes great pleasure in the sounds of words and the feelings of words as phonemes slide, crash and bump together, but he's also interested in the etymology of words. He looks into the origins of some of the most innocuous words in the language - and some of the most useful - and looks at how they descend from the same ancient Proto-Indo-European roots. Take the P.I.E. room pag- which has given us such a diverse crop of words as pagan, compact, pole, pace and pageant. All this from a little word that meant, roughly, "to fasten." The words that we speak have taken a long and wild journey to get into our minds and our mouths. Some were ported directly from Latin, others took a longer route. But every word that you speak has great history behind it. Finally, of course, there is meaning. Without meaning, words are just sounds and aggregations of letters. One of the big questions that Blount hits over and over again is whether words mean something for a reason or if they've just been arbitrarily assigned to ideas and things. There are those who hold to that idea - that a word like "go" is no better or worse suited to its job than iku or jít or aller (Japanese, Czech and French, respectively). There's something to that, I suppose - after all, if one sound really were perfectly suited to a concept, why would other languages bother to use so many variations? Or, y'know, exist? You would think that eventually the speakers of other languages would hear "Go" and think, "That's IT! That's the word!" If that were the case, it would probably have put me out of a job. So there probably is some element of arbitrariness in language, but Blount isn't very convinced by that idea. He says that there are so many words - such as doldrums or go, which fit their ideas so very, very well - how could such an appropriate set of sounds have just been arbitrarily given to these ideas? Words like scribble, itch, wrest, pool - words whose sounds and meanings match so very well, how could they be arbitrary? The most likely answer, of course, is that language defines how you understand the world. As an English speaker Blount has inextricably connected these words and ideas in his head, and to suggest that, say, berceuse is perfectly suited to describe a soft song sung to children to get them to sleep would be asking an English speaker to put aside a whole lot of the associations he or she had made about lullaby. This isn't an academic book, though, so don't worry about that. Blount has made a career out of entertaining with his words, and he doesn't put that aside just because he's doing language analysis. He brings up common words, unusual words, thought-provoking and laugh-inducing topics, all arranged - of course - alphabetically. You can jump backwards and forwards through the book, following the cross-references, and still enjoy it to its fullest. In fact, Blount recommends that you do so. Language is our way of making the world make sense, no matter what language it is. For those of us who are native English speakers, we look at the world through a complex and sometimes baffling language. It's hard to learn (and hard to teach), sometimes frustrating to deal with and occasionally incapable of doing what we need it to do. But it's part of our cultural heritage - our cultural DNA, if you will - and deserves appreciation. So take a gander at this book - read it, savor it, enjoy it, and then look at your language afresh. You'll be glad you did. ...more |
Notes are private!
|
1
|
not set
|
May 31, 2009
|
May 31, 2009
|
Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 1933929820
| 9781933929828
| 1933929820
| 3.49
| 727
| Apr 15, 2009
| Apr 15, 2009
|
liked it
|
In the introduction to this book, the author states that he truly admires William Shatner - he states that Shatner is a man who has made a career out
In the introduction to this book, the author states that he truly admires William Shatner - he states that Shatner is a man who has made a career out of caricaturing himself, remaking himself over and over again with no looking back, no shame and - as far as we know - no regrets. He finishes by kindly asking William Shatner not to sue him. I don't think he has too much to worry about, really. This book is a quick, fun read that, while not necessarily painting William Shatner in the best of lights, certainly pays homage to his long and varied career. The story goes as follows: William Shatner is on his way to the very first ShatnerCon, a convention celebrating his life and works. It is a convention mobbed with fans, devotees who are there to see their idol, whether he caught their hearts as T.J. Hooker, Captain Kirk, or the host of Rescue 911. In the new Cathode-La convention center, tribute can be paid in full to William Shatner, a man who has changed so many lives. But there are those who do not adore Shatner. They don't like him or even tolerate him. They are the Campbellians, known by the bloody stumps where their right hands used to be and each known only as Bruce. They hate William Shatner with a passion that borders on madness, and seeing him dead is not nearly enough for them - they want his entire body of work to never have existed. Their weapon is a Fiction Bomb, a metaphysical WMD that can erase stories from existence. No one remembers them, no one knows they ever existed. Should the Fiction Bomb succeed, William Shatner's entire body of work would cease to be. And so, in short order, would he. But what if a Fiction Bomb should go wrong? What if that interface between fiction and reality should be breached, spilling its contents into what we commonly call the Real World? In that case, dozens of William Shatners - every character the man had played - would emerge in our world, with only one thought on their minds: Destroy the real William Shatner! This book is a very quick read - only eighty-three pages - but it certainly packs in a lot of action, and as works of fan-fiction go, it isn't too bad. Because that is most assuredly what this book is - fanfic. Burk has a very basic concept here - get all of Shatner's characters out to kill him. Simple. Add lots of blood and gore and guts, because that's always fun, and you have some entertaining reading. This is the very best kind of fanfic, really - you know it's just a send-up, never intended to be a serious work of literature. Sit back and enjoy the ride. It suffers from some serious editing problems, though, and Mr. Burk would have done well to have hired a good proofreader. There are some very basic grammatical mistakes, dropped plurals and a few sentences that just don't make sense. To a regular reader, it might not be important, but to someone whose bread and butter is the proper use of English, it's kind of glaring. But then my expectations weren't all that high - I went into this expecting a rollicking adventure and that's what I got. Complaining about the grammar in a book like this is like complaining about the quality of the vegetables in your Big Mac. Still, there are some redeeming points to it, above and beyond the weirdness of the whole thing. The beginning of the book does a very good job at setting up a real dreamlike atmosphere – a building that covers a hundred city blocks and has a parking lot that stretches out as far as the eye can see. Upon reaching the convention center, Shatner finds out that he is already late, and is led through a maze of hallways that result in almost instant disorientation. He has to sign hundreds of photographs for hours on end, and ultimately faces off with his own doppelgangers. Burk has reached into the bag of common nightmares and put together a scenario that is both familiar and disarming, which propels you through the rest of the book. After all, if you're struggling to keep up with events, think about how Shatner must be feeling? And of course, one can't help but wonder if this is a commentary on the very nature of the actor/fan dynamic. Who is William Shatner, after all? Depending on who's looking at him, he could be Kirk or T.J. Hooker, Denny Crane or Buck Murdock, the guy who saw gremlins on his plane or the guy trying to sell you cheap airplane tickets. On top of that, Shatner has another character to maintain – Shatner as a public figure, the guy who goes to conventions and book signings and does guest spots on TV shows. Who is the real William Shatner? Who are any of us, really? In this age of online presences, there could are electronic doppelgangers of ourselves all over the internet. The person that your Twitter followers believe is you is not necessarily the same person that the people on your Mad Men slash fic forum know. You present a different face to your Facebook friends than the people you know in your World of Warcraft game, and like Shatner in this story, you ultimately have no control over the different renditions of you that other people see. The good news, of course, is that those different Yous are unlikely to rise up and try to kill you. Ultimately, this book has no over-arching message about the nature of identity in a world where different versions walk around without our knowledge or consent. I don't think that it was ever Burk's purpose to write a treatise on the modern concept of identity, but rather to write a quick, bloody thriller about William Shatner. So, it has no real lessons to teach us other than that if you see a deranged Captain Kirk approaching with a lightsaber (and how that got in there, I'll never know - a little artistic license for the sake of awesomeness) you run away. Very fast. -------------------------------------------------- "I'm a... professional. I can deal... with anything." - William Shatner, Shatnerquake -------------------------------------------------- ...more |
Notes are private!
|
2
|
not set
not set
|
Jan 23, 2011
not set
|
May 24, 2009
|
Paperback
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
my rating |
|
|
||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| 3.61
|
liked it
|
Aug 14, 2012
|
Aug 14, 2012
|
|||||
|
| 3.56
|
liked it
|
Aug 2012
|
Aug 13, 2012
|
|||||
|
| 3.86
|
really liked it
|
Jun 20, 2012
|
Jun 22, 2012
|
|||||
|
| 3.87
|
liked it
|
Apr 15, 2012
|
Apr 18, 2012
|
|||||
|
| 4.03
|
really liked it
|
Jan 2012
|
Jan 06, 2012
|
|||||
|
| 4.14
|
it was amazing
|
Jun 22, 2011
|
Jun 25, 2011
|
|||||
|
| 3.44
|
liked it
|
Feb 14, 2011
|
Feb 19, 2011
|
|||||
|
| 3.94
|
it was amazing
|
Nov 27, 2010
|
Nov 27, 2010
|
|||||
|
| 4.27
|
it was amazing
|
Jun 12, 2010
|
Jun 26, 2010
|
|||||
|
| 4.01
|
it was ok
|
Apr 26, 2010
|
May 01, 2010
|
|||||
|
| 3.81
|
really liked it
|
Feb 19, 2010
|
Feb 21, 2010
|
|||||
|
| 4.09
|
it was amazing
|
Feb 13, 2010
|
Feb 14, 2010
|
|||||
|
| 4.06
|
really liked it
|
Jan 30, 2010
|
Feb 05, 2010
|
|||||
|
| 3.97
|
liked it
|
Jan 28, 2010
|
Jan 31, 2010
|
|||||
|
| 4.00
|
liked it
|
Jan 24, 2010
|
Jan 30, 2010
|
|||||
|
| 3.65
|
really liked it
|
Nov 23, 2009
|
Nov 23, 2009
|
|||||
|
| 3.81
|
liked it
|
Jul 22, 2009
|
Jul 29, 2009
|
|||||
|
| 3.79
|
really liked it
|
Jun 16, 2009
|
Jun 16, 2009
|
|||||
|
| 3.61
|
really liked it
|
May 31, 2009
|
May 31, 2009
|
|||||
|
| 3.49
|
liked it
|
Jan 23, 2011
not set
|
May 24, 2009
|
Loading...
