Hello everyone,
today brings an end to the enrichment reading class that brought me to this blog, and though the blog will continue, it's time to rate the books I've read this semester! Here are my eleven books ranked!
1. The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss (1107 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-wise-mans-fear-by-patrick-rothfuss.html
Normally book twos can't hold a candle to the book before them, but Rothfuss broke this trend in the story being certainly as wonderful as the first book, except with even more glorious shenanigans as we see Kvothe beginning to grow up. This is certainly my favorite book of the semester.
2. The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss (722 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-name-of-wind-by-patrick-rothfuss.html
The first of The Kingkiller Chronicle is a beautiful book, with perhaps the best writing since The Lord of the Rings and is a series I will forever treasure as one of my favorites.
3. The Night Angel Trilogy Book Two: Shadow's Edge by Brent Weeks (634 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-night-angel-trilogy-book-two.html
I continuously expect Brent Weeks to do something bizarre and bothersome with this series but continues to prove me wrong by being a talented and engaging writer whose endlessly witty and complex storytelling keeps The Night Angel Trilogy in a very special place.
4. The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (213 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-perks-of-being-wallflower-by.html
Very few other narratives are as personally stunning as this novel. For having so little in common with Charlie, as the reader I had a beautiful sense of kinship with him that very few books can provide. It was a priceless read and definitely a book that changes the reader.
5. The Lost Heiress by Catherine Fisher (373 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-lost-heiress-by-catherine-fisher.html
The sequel to The Hidden City is a wonderful continuation of the story, the characters continue to grow further, and Galen is becoming one of the priceless members of the snarky, rude, and lovely men's club.
Aside from that, it's a very fast and fun read.
6. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (502 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/12/challenge-7-jane-eyre-by-charlotte.html
I had always heard so many wonderful things about Jane Eyre, but I still never imagined I would have enjoyed it as much as I did. I adored it. Jane's narrative is rich and engaging, and Mr. Rochester may have one up on Mr. Darcy.
7. Sailing Alone Around the Room by Billy Collins (172 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/11/sailing-alone-around-room-by-billy.html
Billy Collin's poetry proved to be rich and engaging, and a pure joy to read. Poetry will never satisfy me as much as novels, but Collins has certainly joined my list of favorite poets with his skilled execution of the English language and firm understanding of the human experience.
8. The Dark City by Catherine Fisher (372 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-dark-city-by-catherine-fisher.html
I really liked this book, normally it may not be this far down on the list, but even though the writing wasn't brilliant, I really enjoy Catherine Fisher's work, and found this to be a wonderful first installment of a highly entertaining series.
9. West of the Moon by Margi Preus (197 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/12/west-of-moon-by-margi-preus.html
I very much enjoyed the folktale aspects of this book, but the plot seemed to weak to be an adult read, but too racy and heavy in parts to be for children, and the characters had very little development.
10. Ask the Passengers by A.S. King (293 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/11/ask-passengers-by-as-king.html
Though much more enjoyable than the magicians, I also wasn't terribly fond of this book. Though I enjoyed some of the more whimsical aspects of the plot, as well as the down to earth narration, the relationship dynamics seemed ultimately off-putting.
11. The Magicians by Lev Grossman (402 pages)
http://platypusofthefeywoods.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-magicians-by-lev-grossman.html
This book is rated last, it was weird. Terribly, terribly weird, and the only reason I got through it was because it was so weird, yet weak characterization, weak plot, but mighty weirdness.
Total Pages Read: 4,987
Friday, December 20, 2013
Challenge 7: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Another late night to you!
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I just now finished reading Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and my goodness I adored it.
I'm very tired but I'll at least manage to say that I was utterly blown away by my first Bronte novel, and this has certainly become of of my favorite classics.
Jane Eyre is a young orphaned girl with no prospects, no relations, and no foreseeable hopeful future when living under the shadow of her cruel aunt and her crueler son. However her fate changes when after suffering abuse under her aunt Jane is sent to live at a girls boarding school, where in the years that will pass she will transition from student, to teacher, to governess under the employment of the strange Mr. Rochester who lives in a far stranger manor house where unearthly laughter, explainable fires, and terrible knife wounds are caused by something living in the uppermost floor of the manor.
I feel the Brontes and Jane Austin are often held in comparison to each other, and though they both wrote romance in the same-ish time period, there styles of writing are so different I feel a comparison isn't really valid. With sweeping descriptions of the misty moors, and a keep insight into human thought, emotion, and understanding, Jane Eyre is a completely stunning book. I enjoyed every instant of it, and have become a rather large Mr. Rochester fan. Charlotte Bronte is a brilliant writer and I'm filled with so many fuzzies after finishing the book I can't describe how much I loved it.
Total Pages: 502
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 10/10
I just now finished reading Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and my goodness I adored it.
I'm very tired but I'll at least manage to say that I was utterly blown away by my first Bronte novel, and this has certainly become of of my favorite classics.
Jane Eyre is a young orphaned girl with no prospects, no relations, and no foreseeable hopeful future when living under the shadow of her cruel aunt and her crueler son. However her fate changes when after suffering abuse under her aunt Jane is sent to live at a girls boarding school, where in the years that will pass she will transition from student, to teacher, to governess under the employment of the strange Mr. Rochester who lives in a far stranger manor house where unearthly laughter, explainable fires, and terrible knife wounds are caused by something living in the uppermost floor of the manor.
I feel the Brontes and Jane Austin are often held in comparison to each other, and though they both wrote romance in the same-ish time period, there styles of writing are so different I feel a comparison isn't really valid. With sweeping descriptions of the misty moors, and a keep insight into human thought, emotion, and understanding, Jane Eyre is a completely stunning book. I enjoyed every instant of it, and have become a rather large Mr. Rochester fan. Charlotte Bronte is a brilliant writer and I'm filled with so many fuzzies after finishing the book I can't describe how much I loved it.
Total Pages: 502
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 10/10
The Lost Heiress by Catherine Fisher
A late night to you all!
A few days ago I completed the sequal to The Dark City, The Lost Heriess by Catherine Fisher, and I can say without a doubt the story simply keeps improving. As a book two blog there may be spoilers so beware from here on out.
After Galen has been revealed as The Crow, servant to Flain, and one who has been in communication with the makers, he and Raffi must find the emperor's granddaughter, who The Watch, enemy to The Order is also searching for. As Carys continues to play both sides, she also seeks information about her parents while her scrutiny of The Makers is brought into question. The unlikely group of two of the order, a sekoi, one of the cat people, and a Watch Spy band together to find The Lost Heiress. (I'm so sleepy forgive the title drop.)
Normally the second book in a series can be slightly disappointing, or if not that just not quite as good as the first book. But I was very happy to discover that The Lost Heiress simply improves the story by introducing more inticute plot lines, showing more sides of Galen's personality and developing the complex mythology via chapter titles that makes Fisher's writing to unique.
I'm very exciting to see how the story turns out as I am now reading the third book The Hidden Coronet, I'll hopefully finish the series off my new years.
Total Pages: 373
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 8/10
A few days ago I completed the sequal to The Dark City, The Lost Heriess by Catherine Fisher, and I can say without a doubt the story simply keeps improving. As a book two blog there may be spoilers so beware from here on out.
After Galen has been revealed as The Crow, servant to Flain, and one who has been in communication with the makers, he and Raffi must find the emperor's granddaughter, who The Watch, enemy to The Order is also searching for. As Carys continues to play both sides, she also seeks information about her parents while her scrutiny of The Makers is brought into question. The unlikely group of two of the order, a sekoi, one of the cat people, and a Watch Spy band together to find The Lost Heiress. (I'm so sleepy forgive the title drop.)
Normally the second book in a series can be slightly disappointing, or if not that just not quite as good as the first book. But I was very happy to discover that The Lost Heiress simply improves the story by introducing more inticute plot lines, showing more sides of Galen's personality and developing the complex mythology via chapter titles that makes Fisher's writing to unique.
I'm very exciting to see how the story turns out as I am now reading the third book The Hidden Coronet, I'll hopefully finish the series off my new years.
Total Pages: 373
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 8/10
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Challenge 10: West of the Moon by Margi Preus
Greetings faerie friends!
This evening I'll be telling you about the first ARC book I've ever read, West of the Moon by Margi Preus. The book will come out April of 2014, so not for another four months.
Astri and her sister Greta were taken in by their cruel Aunt after their mother's death, and their father's journey to America in search of his fortune. Back in Norway Astri's aunt has sold her to a terrifying "goat man" a grizzly goat farmer that either in reality or Astri's imagination is either old man, or perhaps a terrifying creature from the folklore of her land. In a strange and exhilarating combination of folktale, legend, myth, and fiction, Astri and Greta seek out their way to America with troll treasure, a book of black magic, a magic hair brush, and mysterious young girl in foot, and the goat man in pursuit, the sisters travel through mountains and forests, rivers and towns, haunted both by sin and the legend of the prince who was a bear, they head for America, in a tale more magic than matter.
While there was much about this book I enjoyed, my main criticism would be that some parts of the book seemed to be intended for rather older readers (a close call with rape and many musings about sin and redemption) yet, the story lacked the complex plot of a book I would expect was aimed for an audience other than children. Though I adored the mix of folklore and fiction, I wish the plot had a bit more to it in general.
Total Pages: 197
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 6/10
This evening I'll be telling you about the first ARC book I've ever read, West of the Moon by Margi Preus. The book will come out April of 2014, so not for another four months.
Astri and her sister Greta were taken in by their cruel Aunt after their mother's death, and their father's journey to America in search of his fortune. Back in Norway Astri's aunt has sold her to a terrifying "goat man" a grizzly goat farmer that either in reality or Astri's imagination is either old man, or perhaps a terrifying creature from the folklore of her land. In a strange and exhilarating combination of folktale, legend, myth, and fiction, Astri and Greta seek out their way to America with troll treasure, a book of black magic, a magic hair brush, and mysterious young girl in foot, and the goat man in pursuit, the sisters travel through mountains and forests, rivers and towns, haunted both by sin and the legend of the prince who was a bear, they head for America, in a tale more magic than matter.
While there was much about this book I enjoyed, my main criticism would be that some parts of the book seemed to be intended for rather older readers (a close call with rape and many musings about sin and redemption) yet, the story lacked the complex plot of a book I would expect was aimed for an audience other than children. Though I adored the mix of folklore and fiction, I wish the plot had a bit more to it in general.
Total Pages: 197
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 6/10
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Challenge 2: The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
The evening is still snowy, probably because it is the same evening of my last post.
Yesterday I finished reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky and I was all together blown away. I haven't read a book so personally heart-wrenching since reading Looking for Alaska my freshman year of high school, and now as I senior I've read The Perks of Being a Wallflower and I must say there's a kind of symmetry to it I'm glad of.
Charlie is a freshman boy in high school, kind of awkward, weirdly violent, notably sensitive, and haunted by the memories of his dead Aunt Helen. Terrified of starting high school Charlie begins to write anonymous letters to a stranger to give him support, there is no return address, no last names, just the intimate feeling of a boy who is probably so different from all of us, yet exactly like everyone else in the extreme loneliness of being human. Carried by "Alseep" by The Smiths, the feeling of being infinite, and the unconventional beauty of Sam and her brother Patrick, Charlie learns to grow. This is a story about being human, about growing up, and discovering how to be a little bit less afraid, a little less sad, and see a little bit more beauty and love in spite of all the fear and all the sadness. As Charlie falls in love with Sam, as well as the literature given to him by his English teacher, he learns to feel infinite in a world where sad and bad things happen, but people have to courage to keep moving forward, even when sometimes they don't.
I don't really know how to write about The Perks of Being a Wallflower in the same way I didn't know how to write about Looking for Alaska my freshman year. The feeling books like that give you is so deep and so personal, it almost feels wrong to write about it. I don't do drugs, or drink, or go to parties, or have a sister who got hit by her boyfriend, but despite that you end up feeling like Charlie when you read the book. Because I've cried in a panicky way where I don't know how to breath and everything is moving, and I've lost someone to suicide that I should have known better, and I've fallen in love, made friends I love, and have felt infinite in my smallness. I think that's all it makes sense to say. But I'm listening to "Asleep" by The Smiths.
Total Pages: 213
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 10/10
Yesterday I finished reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky and I was all together blown away. I haven't read a book so personally heart-wrenching since reading Looking for Alaska my freshman year of high school, and now as I senior I've read The Perks of Being a Wallflower and I must say there's a kind of symmetry to it I'm glad of.
Charlie is a freshman boy in high school, kind of awkward, weirdly violent, notably sensitive, and haunted by the memories of his dead Aunt Helen. Terrified of starting high school Charlie begins to write anonymous letters to a stranger to give him support, there is no return address, no last names, just the intimate feeling of a boy who is probably so different from all of us, yet exactly like everyone else in the extreme loneliness of being human. Carried by "Alseep" by The Smiths, the feeling of being infinite, and the unconventional beauty of Sam and her brother Patrick, Charlie learns to grow. This is a story about being human, about growing up, and discovering how to be a little bit less afraid, a little less sad, and see a little bit more beauty and love in spite of all the fear and all the sadness. As Charlie falls in love with Sam, as well as the literature given to him by his English teacher, he learns to feel infinite in a world where sad and bad things happen, but people have to courage to keep moving forward, even when sometimes they don't.
I don't really know how to write about The Perks of Being a Wallflower in the same way I didn't know how to write about Looking for Alaska my freshman year. The feeling books like that give you is so deep and so personal, it almost feels wrong to write about it. I don't do drugs, or drink, or go to parties, or have a sister who got hit by her boyfriend, but despite that you end up feeling like Charlie when you read the book. Because I've cried in a panicky way where I don't know how to breath and everything is moving, and I've lost someone to suicide that I should have known better, and I've fallen in love, made friends I love, and have felt infinite in my smallness. I think that's all it makes sense to say. But I'm listening to "Asleep" by The Smiths.
Total Pages: 213
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 10/10
The Dark City by Catherine Fisher
Tis a dark and snowy evening.
A few weeks ago I recently finished reading The Dark City book one of Relic Master by Catherine Fisher. Now I was really excited to find this book because a year or so ago I finished reader some of her other books, Incarceron and its sequel Saphique, both of which I found to be splendid and enjoyable reads. These two books provided my first exposure to steam-punk novels (thank you!) so when I saw The Dark City in the library and saw that it looked like fantasy I was very excited.
The Dark City tells the tale of a young boy named Raffi and his experience as the apprentice of one of the great relic masters Galen, a shrewd, calculating, and embittered man due to an injury he suffered costing him full mobility in his leg, as well as all of his magical and spiritual powers as a relic master. As members of an ancient organization called The Order, Raffi and Gallen, as well as all other member of The Order are hunted by an infamously cruel group called The Watch, and when Watch member Carys begins hunting Galen she questions her loyalties as she is faced with the kindness of Galen and Raffi as she sees the inhumanity of The Watch through their eyes. In hopes of regaining his abilities as a Relic Master, Galen searches for the Crow, a creature from the legends of their scripture who could supposedly restore Galen's lost powers.
Though the book seemed to be geered to a slightly younger audience than Incarceron I still enjoyed it immensely as I found the characters and the story to be enjoyable. As a series of four (I believe) I look forward to reading the other three. Galen is the strongest character so far and the one I'm most interested in. I find it rather refreshing to find a story about a young boy and his master and have the master be the main character, it's a good change from the regularities of the sword and sorcery genre.
Total Pages: 372
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 8/10
A few weeks ago I recently finished reading The Dark City book one of Relic Master by Catherine Fisher. Now I was really excited to find this book because a year or so ago I finished reader some of her other books, Incarceron and its sequel Saphique, both of which I found to be splendid and enjoyable reads. These two books provided my first exposure to steam-punk novels (thank you!) so when I saw The Dark City in the library and saw that it looked like fantasy I was very excited.
The Dark City tells the tale of a young boy named Raffi and his experience as the apprentice of one of the great relic masters Galen, a shrewd, calculating, and embittered man due to an injury he suffered costing him full mobility in his leg, as well as all of his magical and spiritual powers as a relic master. As members of an ancient organization called The Order, Raffi and Gallen, as well as all other member of The Order are hunted by an infamously cruel group called The Watch, and when Watch member Carys begins hunting Galen she questions her loyalties as she is faced with the kindness of Galen and Raffi as she sees the inhumanity of The Watch through their eyes. In hopes of regaining his abilities as a Relic Master, Galen searches for the Crow, a creature from the legends of their scripture who could supposedly restore Galen's lost powers.
Though the book seemed to be geered to a slightly younger audience than Incarceron I still enjoyed it immensely as I found the characters and the story to be enjoyable. As a series of four (I believe) I look forward to reading the other three. Galen is the strongest character so far and the one I'm most interested in. I find it rather refreshing to find a story about a young boy and his master and have the master be the main character, it's a good change from the regularities of the sword and sorcery genre.
Total Pages: 372
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 8/10
Friday, November 22, 2013
Ask the Passengers by A.S. King
Evening to you! Look how the snow falls over the dry plains of our little mountain hamlet.
So this evening I'll be discussing a book I read a few weeks ago but forgot to write my review of, oops. Ask the Passengers by A.S. King (pun intended, no?) tells the tale of a young girl named Astrid Jones, a high school senior struggling with her sexuality who deals with the hardships of conservative small town America, labels, love, sexuality, a pot smoking dad, and a sister and a mother who don't really understand her, and to deal with this all Astrid sits on the picnic bench in her back yard to watch the airplanes flying above as she sends her love to the passengers inside.
In a strange and lovely story about self discovery, the supernatural, the philosophical and the mundane unite as a young girl tries to figure out why the label for her love seems so necessary to other when she just wants to let her love be, both for her girlfriend, and the countless people flying above her small town every day.
There was a lot about the book I enjoyed and some I wasn't so fond of. First of all I can't say how much I adore the unspoken magic in Astrid loving the passengers. I think it's a fine example of the most beautifully simplistic and unquestioned kind of magic, it doesn't matter if what they're experiencing is truly magic, or if the character herself is imagining it all, and I find that very stunning. However, maybe it's just me, but the relationship between Astrid and her girlfriend seemed borderline abusive at times, perhaps I read into it too much, but their relationship never sat right with me with her girlfriend's random mood swings from fluffy to angry, and how frequently she tried to pressure Astrid into labeling her sexuality, and trying to convince her to enter a sexual relationship Astrid wasn't ready for, a lot of these scenes just struck me as rather wrong and I found them off-putting, yet despite all these relationship red flags, (plus despite Astrid cheating on said girlfriend) the two end up together in the end without a great deal of in depth discussion about the weirdness in there relationship.
In general I really enjoyed the book and found it to be an insightful look into the complexities of human sexuality, psychology, and the maybe magic that surrounds us every day.
Total Pages: 293
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cup: 6/10
So this evening I'll be discussing a book I read a few weeks ago but forgot to write my review of, oops. Ask the Passengers by A.S. King (pun intended, no?) tells the tale of a young girl named Astrid Jones, a high school senior struggling with her sexuality who deals with the hardships of conservative small town America, labels, love, sexuality, a pot smoking dad, and a sister and a mother who don't really understand her, and to deal with this all Astrid sits on the picnic bench in her back yard to watch the airplanes flying above as she sends her love to the passengers inside.
In a strange and lovely story about self discovery, the supernatural, the philosophical and the mundane unite as a young girl tries to figure out why the label for her love seems so necessary to other when she just wants to let her love be, both for her girlfriend, and the countless people flying above her small town every day.
There was a lot about the book I enjoyed and some I wasn't so fond of. First of all I can't say how much I adore the unspoken magic in Astrid loving the passengers. I think it's a fine example of the most beautifully simplistic and unquestioned kind of magic, it doesn't matter if what they're experiencing is truly magic, or if the character herself is imagining it all, and I find that very stunning. However, maybe it's just me, but the relationship between Astrid and her girlfriend seemed borderline abusive at times, perhaps I read into it too much, but their relationship never sat right with me with her girlfriend's random mood swings from fluffy to angry, and how frequently she tried to pressure Astrid into labeling her sexuality, and trying to convince her to enter a sexual relationship Astrid wasn't ready for, a lot of these scenes just struck me as rather wrong and I found them off-putting, yet despite all these relationship red flags, (plus despite Astrid cheating on said girlfriend) the two end up together in the end without a great deal of in depth discussion about the weirdness in there relationship.
In general I really enjoyed the book and found it to be an insightful look into the complexities of human sexuality, psychology, and the maybe magic that surrounds us every day.
Total Pages: 293
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cup: 6/10
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Khaos Komix by Tab Kimpton
Happy Harvest!
Some time ago an online graphic novel entitled Khaos Komix recently finished updating, and I finished re-reading it in one fell swoop.
Khaos Komix is a graphic novel told in eight parts by eight different characters revolving around LGBTQ issues as a whole. Through the narration of each character the inner thoughts, feelings, and stories of each is revealed and they discover themselves and fall in love. The story takes place in England as the characters take on the fight to get them to where they want to be.
The comic, revolving around angsty youth certainly has some notable language, as well as trigger plot-lines, and some occasional sexual content. The side stories of the comic are sometimes more graphic, but are easy to skip over and simply move on to the next character's story. The art occasionally falters in my opinion, but the story-telling and writing is always brutally honest to each character it is being told from. The story carries all the hilarity of friendship and misunderstandings, and all the terror of having no idea who you are and how to become the person you want to be, as well as the grief of unrequited love, and and the dismay of it being requited.
Regardless of whether one enjoys Tab's unusual art style, I feel if the reader has any experience with the LGBTQ community it would be an extremely personal read. From the doubts experienced in falling in love with your best friend, to the bullying, and the confusion, and the bigotry it shows all the beauty and ugliness of growing up and living while questioning the worth of your identity.
I would definitely say that Amber's story and Tom's story were my favorites, though I loved all of them. Jamie's story was extremely difficult for me to read, as was Charlie's really, just, the vivid detail Tab goes into regarding the trauma of their lives is very hard to handle, but it's a valuable read, that gives a highly personal view into the worlds of eight very different people who are so very human, in all the beautiful foibles and connotations of that word.
Total Pages: 573
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 8/10
Some time ago an online graphic novel entitled Khaos Komix recently finished updating, and I finished re-reading it in one fell swoop.
Khaos Komix is a graphic novel told in eight parts by eight different characters revolving around LGBTQ issues as a whole. Through the narration of each character the inner thoughts, feelings, and stories of each is revealed and they discover themselves and fall in love. The story takes place in England as the characters take on the fight to get them to where they want to be.
The comic, revolving around angsty youth certainly has some notable language, as well as trigger plot-lines, and some occasional sexual content. The side stories of the comic are sometimes more graphic, but are easy to skip over and simply move on to the next character's story. The art occasionally falters in my opinion, but the story-telling and writing is always brutally honest to each character it is being told from. The story carries all the hilarity of friendship and misunderstandings, and all the terror of having no idea who you are and how to become the person you want to be, as well as the grief of unrequited love, and and the dismay of it being requited.
Regardless of whether one enjoys Tab's unusual art style, I feel if the reader has any experience with the LGBTQ community it would be an extremely personal read. From the doubts experienced in falling in love with your best friend, to the bullying, and the confusion, and the bigotry it shows all the beauty and ugliness of growing up and living while questioning the worth of your identity.
I would definitely say that Amber's story and Tom's story were my favorites, though I loved all of them. Jamie's story was extremely difficult for me to read, as was Charlie's really, just, the vivid detail Tab goes into regarding the trauma of their lives is very hard to handle, but it's a valuable read, that gives a highly personal view into the worlds of eight very different people who are so very human, in all the beautiful foibles and connotations of that word.
Total Pages: 573
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 8/10
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
The Dark and The Tolstoy
Greetings muggles!
So far I'm 200 pages into the beloved classic Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. Though I'm reading it for AP Lit it's a book I've wanted to read in general from the avid recommendations of my uncle. So far the writing isn't my absolute favorite, but I'm fond of the story. Thus far Anna Karenina is in a gloriously scandalous tryst with the illustrious Vronsky. Yet there is dreadful scandal in the relationship for Anna is married and has a son. Also in the world of elegant Russian society Levin proposed to Kitty but Kitty refused because she loves Vronsky who dumped her because He loves Anna who's married and knows a guy who cheated on his wife who knows Levin who's depressed and killing squirrels in the forest of his farm because Kitty doesn't love him and he's sick of his farm and wants to be married. It's all very dramatic.
As far as horror novels go I want to read King! I haven't read anything by him but I've heard he's so completely brilliant I want to try him out. Poe is of course flawlessly classic, though I'm more partial to his poetry than his short stories. For the most part I'm not a huge lover of the horror genre in general because I often feel it's over done, trading in the scary for the stupid, but I adore a truly a subtly frightening plot line. Fire Sea the third novel in The Death Gate Cycle is terrifying but so classy and so well done. It's a genre I would like to further explore but haven't truly looked into as of yet.
I often think that the element of horror is most valuable when combined with another genre, it's almost too much in concentration, but it's a perfect and thrilling addition to other styles of writing. The Death Gate Cycle is high fantasy, but through all of the book there are truly horrifying moments with necromancy and titans and evil creatures of the sea and the Labyrinth and alkjfgl/;kgj/;lkag I need to re-read these books I love them so much.
Happy belated All Hallow's Eve! And for all you happy Wiccans out there: )O(
So far I'm 200 pages into the beloved classic Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. Though I'm reading it for AP Lit it's a book I've wanted to read in general from the avid recommendations of my uncle. So far the writing isn't my absolute favorite, but I'm fond of the story. Thus far Anna Karenina is in a gloriously scandalous tryst with the illustrious Vronsky. Yet there is dreadful scandal in the relationship for Anna is married and has a son. Also in the world of elegant Russian society Levin proposed to Kitty but Kitty refused because she loves Vronsky who dumped her because He loves Anna who's married and knows a guy who cheated on his wife who knows Levin who's depressed and killing squirrels in the forest of his farm because Kitty doesn't love him and he's sick of his farm and wants to be married. It's all very dramatic.
As far as horror novels go I want to read King! I haven't read anything by him but I've heard he's so completely brilliant I want to try him out. Poe is of course flawlessly classic, though I'm more partial to his poetry than his short stories. For the most part I'm not a huge lover of the horror genre in general because I often feel it's over done, trading in the scary for the stupid, but I adore a truly a subtly frightening plot line. Fire Sea the third novel in The Death Gate Cycle is terrifying but so classy and so well done. It's a genre I would like to further explore but haven't truly looked into as of yet.
I often think that the element of horror is most valuable when combined with another genre, it's almost too much in concentration, but it's a perfect and thrilling addition to other styles of writing. The Death Gate Cycle is high fantasy, but through all of the book there are truly horrifying moments with necromancy and titans and evil creatures of the sea and the Labyrinth and alkjfgl/;kgj/;lkag I need to re-read these books I love them so much.
Happy belated All Hallow's Eve! And for all you happy Wiccans out there: )O(
Friday, November 8, 2013
India: A Whole Other World of Words
I could tell you that India's literacy rate has grown from 12% in 1947 to 74% in 2013, but that's something you google. Though it was only a week I spent in Vrindavan, a small town in the Mathura area of Utar Pradesh India, I've been somewhat absorbed in the country since childhood, since before I could read or even speak, though I still can't read or speak any of the languages of India. Though Hindi is the official language, English is stated as the nation's second, and besides these Bengali, Manipuri, and Sanskrit are also in use. It's a country of words and songs, dances that pose meaning akin to sign language using the entire body. It's a place of stories, a place where the most popular Indian film offered on Air India's flights is "The Adventures of Vishnu", stories, and books, and poetry have been with the land for longer than most other parts of the world, yet you would be less than likely to have a chat with your rickshaw driver about the exploits of Hamlet, or the woes of Mr. Darcy, let alone the curiosities of Oedipus Rex. But The Vedas are over five-hundred years old and have been taught for longer, and much of The Vedas is what the people are still familiar with, along with, of course, many other works of literature from India and around the world.
However, what I noticed the most about books, and reading, and stories, and language in India is that the history, the religion, and the stories that children fall asleep with and reenact in the day are one and the same. Many could read of course, but those who couldn't were still moderately fluent in English and were familiar with ancient Sanskrit texts even if they couldn't be read. Explaining it is difficult, but in a place like Vrindavan you go to a place, and the story is in the ground you walk on and it's told by the people walking on it. They take the histories and stories and songs of their land to be one and the same, and you get the same feeling on the banks of the Yamuna that you get looking at The Magna Carta, except amplified, you are so close to something so old with so many emotions and stories and people that were a part of it, except in a museum you can only look, but when you're in the place you touch and smell and see the same parts of the stories you've grown up hearing.
Though their literacy rate isn't the highest, it's a nation that craves education, and loves and remembers some of the oldest epic poems in the world's history, for it's a culture that thrives on the art of telling stories to remember their history.
However, what I noticed the most about books, and reading, and stories, and language in India is that the history, the religion, and the stories that children fall asleep with and reenact in the day are one and the same. Many could read of course, but those who couldn't were still moderately fluent in English and were familiar with ancient Sanskrit texts even if they couldn't be read. Explaining it is difficult, but in a place like Vrindavan you go to a place, and the story is in the ground you walk on and it's told by the people walking on it. They take the histories and stories and songs of their land to be one and the same, and you get the same feeling on the banks of the Yamuna that you get looking at The Magna Carta, except amplified, you are so close to something so old with so many emotions and stories and people that were a part of it, except in a museum you can only look, but when you're in the place you touch and smell and see the same parts of the stories you've grown up hearing.
Though their literacy rate isn't the highest, it's a nation that craves education, and loves and remembers some of the oldest epic poems in the world's history, for it's a culture that thrives on the art of telling stories to remember their history.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Challenge 1:Sailing Alone Around the Room by Billy Collins
Long time no see! India ate me, so now for some catch-up blogging.
So I can safely say that poetry is not a genre I have read much in. Now, I love poetry, all kinds of it. Longfellow, Keats, Poe, Frost, you name it, but it's a rare occasion when I sit down with a book of poetry, and you know, read it. But with Billy Collin's beautiful collection Sailing Alone Around the Room reading it was nothing but a joy. It contains many of his more famous works including "Marginalia", "The History Teacher" and "Mad Men" with pages upon pages of his other works.
For me, a student of older poets, adoring the ballads and fireside poets, Billy Collins is a bit of an unusual poet. I'll be frank, I'm not generally a fan of most varieties of un-rhymed poetry (Shakespeare excluded) however with Billy Collin's work I wouldn't dream of it being any other way. His poems are conversational and thought provoking, and though it doesn't rhyme, his rhythm and diction has express purpose that carries his words through you. When I read him I find myself hearing this strong, kind, male voice of a perfect scholar that I just kind of make up. Many of his poems like "Victoria's Secret" are extremely humorous, and on that subject mirror my thoughts so closely it was a joy to read, while ones like "Marginalia" make me want to cry for a reason I can't quite understand.
Maybe the reading experience would be different for disgruntled lit students who really don't care about the egg salad stains, but for a lover of words and raw exploration of the human condition such as myself it was a glorious read. Of course there were a few I wasn't so fond of, but they too were a naked and interesting as the rest of his work. I look forward to reading more Billy Collins in the future, and will likely bring him back out around Christmas to read under the clock in Manitou Springs, or at least that's what I'd like to do.
"Yet the one I think of most often,
the one that dangles from me like a locket,
was written in the copy of Catcher in the Rye
I borrowed from the local library
one slow, hot summer.
I was just beginning high school then,
reading books on a davenport in my parents' living room,
and I cannot tell you
how vastly my loneliness was deepened,
how poignant and amplified the world before me seemed,
when I found on one page
a few greasy looking smears
and next to them, written in soft pencil-
by a beautiful girl, I could tell,
whom I would never meet-
"Pardon the egg salad stains, but I'm in love."
Total Pages: 172
Number of Flying Platypus Teacups: 9/10
So I can safely say that poetry is not a genre I have read much in. Now, I love poetry, all kinds of it. Longfellow, Keats, Poe, Frost, you name it, but it's a rare occasion when I sit down with a book of poetry, and you know, read it. But with Billy Collin's beautiful collection Sailing Alone Around the Room reading it was nothing but a joy. It contains many of his more famous works including "Marginalia", "The History Teacher" and "Mad Men" with pages upon pages of his other works.
For me, a student of older poets, adoring the ballads and fireside poets, Billy Collins is a bit of an unusual poet. I'll be frank, I'm not generally a fan of most varieties of un-rhymed poetry (Shakespeare excluded) however with Billy Collin's work I wouldn't dream of it being any other way. His poems are conversational and thought provoking, and though it doesn't rhyme, his rhythm and diction has express purpose that carries his words through you. When I read him I find myself hearing this strong, kind, male voice of a perfect scholar that I just kind of make up. Many of his poems like "Victoria's Secret" are extremely humorous, and on that subject mirror my thoughts so closely it was a joy to read, while ones like "Marginalia" make me want to cry for a reason I can't quite understand.
Maybe the reading experience would be different for disgruntled lit students who really don't care about the egg salad stains, but for a lover of words and raw exploration of the human condition such as myself it was a glorious read. Of course there were a few I wasn't so fond of, but they too were a naked and interesting as the rest of his work. I look forward to reading more Billy Collins in the future, and will likely bring him back out around Christmas to read under the clock in Manitou Springs, or at least that's what I'd like to do.
"Yet the one I think of most often,
the one that dangles from me like a locket,
was written in the copy of Catcher in the Rye
I borrowed from the local library
one slow, hot summer.
I was just beginning high school then,
reading books on a davenport in my parents' living room,
and I cannot tell you
how vastly my loneliness was deepened,
how poignant and amplified the world before me seemed,
when I found on one page
a few greasy looking smears
and next to them, written in soft pencil-
by a beautiful girl, I could tell,
whom I would never meet-
"Pardon the egg salad stains, but I'm in love."
Total Pages: 172
Number of Flying Platypus Teacups: 9/10
Saturday, October 19, 2013
The Magicians by Lev Grossman
What a book this was, considering I have no idea where to begin, I suppose I'll just try to describe it.
Quentin Coldwater is an average genius graduating from high school, who is lonely and in love with his best-friend's girlfriend. However soon enough he's whisked away to the magical School of Brakebills where he meets Eliot, charming, debonair, and alcohol snub who befriends Quentin, as well as shy and talented Alice who Quentin soon falls for. As five years pass by (in about one-hundred pages) Quentin sleeps with a fox, I mean Alice, the two of them move to Manhattan and soon after that begins binge-drinking, experimenting with drugs, partying, having crazy threesomes, and then they go to Narnia, killing Edmund and becoming kings and queens. I mean, no, they go to Fillory, sorry.
I have so many mixed feelings about this book I can't even say. While I truthfully enjoyed a lot of it, the writing was lovely in parts, rushed in others, and really uncomfortable and crude other times. The story had its high points, but was horribly disappointing in others, with character development put on fast-forward, and emotions and revelations so directly stated you have to be left wondering when it happened at all. I can't say I was fond of the book, though I did finish it, and enjoy large portions of it, the ending of the book was satisfying for me though much of the middle wasn't. Sometimes the cliches and the allusions felt charming, other times they felt like cheap jabs at the original stories much of the plot was so clearly mimicking. Yet despite this, I think my true problem with the book came with the relationship dynamic between Quentin, Alice, and Eliot.
Quentin is without doubt, an overly sexualized character who tends to objectify women. Without fail, every time a female character shows up, there are firm comments from his narration about their appearance, possible sexual orientation, and whether or not he would want to sleep with them. Through the course of the story he has three main female friends, Alice Julia, and Janet, he sleeps with two and wants to sleep with another, thus having a sexual relationship with all three of his female friends. For the first portion of Quentin's time at Brakebills he's in the company of his senior, Eliot, who is often admired by Quentin for his confidence, hard-earned aloofness, and his cool demeanor. Eliot is the first person Quentin meets at Brakebills. Later on Quentin discovers that Eliot is having a fling with another boy in Quentin's year, upon finding this out Quentin begins to weep because Eliot hadn't given his affections to Quentin. It is later discussed by other characters that many people think that Quentin is in a relationship with Eliot. However even with the developments in their relationship, Quentin soon has sex with Alice when they were both magically transformed into foxes and were together and in love thereafter. (???!!!???!?!?!?!?!?)
It seemed to me that Grossman miraculously ended up skipping over all of the relationship potential between Quentin and Eliot to simply further Quentin's very literal animal like sexual attraction for Alice. A relationship between him Eliot would have introduced immense complexity into Quentin's character, showing that he could have meaningful relationships with women without a sexual element being present, while choosing the present emotional bond he shares with Eliot, choosing emotion over sexual drive, for a character like Eliot who has somewhat severe facial maiming. I believe strong character development is the heart of any story, and when such an opportunity for such a strong point to be made in writing is passed up for mediocre, crude, and bizarre plot lines it disappoints me more than anything else in the story ever could have.
All in all, I doubt I will bother with the equals.
Total Pages: 402
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 4/10
Quentin Coldwater is an average genius graduating from high school, who is lonely and in love with his best-friend's girlfriend. However soon enough he's whisked away to the magical School of Brakebills where he meets Eliot, charming, debonair, and alcohol snub who befriends Quentin, as well as shy and talented Alice who Quentin soon falls for. As five years pass by (in about one-hundred pages) Quentin sleeps with a fox, I mean Alice, the two of them move to Manhattan and soon after that begins binge-drinking, experimenting with drugs, partying, having crazy threesomes, and then they go to Narnia, killing Edmund and becoming kings and queens. I mean, no, they go to Fillory, sorry.
I have so many mixed feelings about this book I can't even say. While I truthfully enjoyed a lot of it, the writing was lovely in parts, rushed in others, and really uncomfortable and crude other times. The story had its high points, but was horribly disappointing in others, with character development put on fast-forward, and emotions and revelations so directly stated you have to be left wondering when it happened at all. I can't say I was fond of the book, though I did finish it, and enjoy large portions of it, the ending of the book was satisfying for me though much of the middle wasn't. Sometimes the cliches and the allusions felt charming, other times they felt like cheap jabs at the original stories much of the plot was so clearly mimicking. Yet despite this, I think my true problem with the book came with the relationship dynamic between Quentin, Alice, and Eliot.
Quentin is without doubt, an overly sexualized character who tends to objectify women. Without fail, every time a female character shows up, there are firm comments from his narration about their appearance, possible sexual orientation, and whether or not he would want to sleep with them. Through the course of the story he has three main female friends, Alice Julia, and Janet, he sleeps with two and wants to sleep with another, thus having a sexual relationship with all three of his female friends. For the first portion of Quentin's time at Brakebills he's in the company of his senior, Eliot, who is often admired by Quentin for his confidence, hard-earned aloofness, and his cool demeanor. Eliot is the first person Quentin meets at Brakebills. Later on Quentin discovers that Eliot is having a fling with another boy in Quentin's year, upon finding this out Quentin begins to weep because Eliot hadn't given his affections to Quentin. It is later discussed by other characters that many people think that Quentin is in a relationship with Eliot. However even with the developments in their relationship, Quentin soon has sex with Alice when they were both magically transformed into foxes and were together and in love thereafter. (???!!!???!?!?!?!?!?)
It seemed to me that Grossman miraculously ended up skipping over all of the relationship potential between Quentin and Eliot to simply further Quentin's very literal animal like sexual attraction for Alice. A relationship between him Eliot would have introduced immense complexity into Quentin's character, showing that he could have meaningful relationships with women without a sexual element being present, while choosing the present emotional bond he shares with Eliot, choosing emotion over sexual drive, for a character like Eliot who has somewhat severe facial maiming. I believe strong character development is the heart of any story, and when such an opportunity for such a strong point to be made in writing is passed up for mediocre, crude, and bizarre plot lines it disappoints me more than anything else in the story ever could have.
All in all, I doubt I will bother with the equals.
Total Pages: 402
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 4/10
Friday, October 11, 2013
The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss
What a beautiful cloudy day it is!
A few days ago I finished reading the second installment of The Kingkiller Chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss, and was appropriately blown away. Often times the second book in a series falls into a bit of a stump, but Rothfuss avoided this entirely and gave his readers a brilliant sequel. As I've mentioned before, generally reviews may have spoilers for previous books in the series.
The Wise Man's Fear takes Kvothe, a trouper of the Edema Ruh, a student of the University, and a wandering youth through a dance of travel, names, love, and the fae. As Kvothe continues his studies at the University, and his adoration of the beautiful and never-still Denna, he soon finds himself traveling away from his schooling from some time to work in the grace of a powerful lord, become a matchmaker, hunt bandits, meet and lose one of The Seven for a second time, lay in the twilight grove of Felurian, live among the Adem, and call the name of the wind thrice. However, in his small Waystone Inn, Kovthe continues to await death as his hands play no music, cast no spells, and his lips utter no seven words to make someone love him.
Though I adored book two, and drank the lovely prose like steaming chocolate in winter, I truly can barely await book three. I have no feasible idea how on earth the story will be wrapped up in only one book, and I can only desperately hope for a happy ending, at this point I must simply trust that Patrick Rothfuss, being the exceptional storyteller that he is, will give the story an ending deserved for a tale this gorgeous. I have faith that his talent will carry the story to a satisfying place, though the wait is hard.
"There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man."
Total Pages: 1107
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 10/10
A few days ago I finished reading the second installment of The Kingkiller Chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss, and was appropriately blown away. Often times the second book in a series falls into a bit of a stump, but Rothfuss avoided this entirely and gave his readers a brilliant sequel. As I've mentioned before, generally reviews may have spoilers for previous books in the series.
The Wise Man's Fear takes Kvothe, a trouper of the Edema Ruh, a student of the University, and a wandering youth through a dance of travel, names, love, and the fae. As Kvothe continues his studies at the University, and his adoration of the beautiful and never-still Denna, he soon finds himself traveling away from his schooling from some time to work in the grace of a powerful lord, become a matchmaker, hunt bandits, meet and lose one of The Seven for a second time, lay in the twilight grove of Felurian, live among the Adem, and call the name of the wind thrice. However, in his small Waystone Inn, Kovthe continues to await death as his hands play no music, cast no spells, and his lips utter no seven words to make someone love him.
Though I adored book two, and drank the lovely prose like steaming chocolate in winter, I truly can barely await book three. I have no feasible idea how on earth the story will be wrapped up in only one book, and I can only desperately hope for a happy ending, at this point I must simply trust that Patrick Rothfuss, being the exceptional storyteller that he is, will give the story an ending deserved for a tale this gorgeous. I have faith that his talent will carry the story to a satisfying place, though the wait is hard.
"There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man."
Total Pages: 1107
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 10/10
Friday, October 4, 2013
The Night Angel Trilogy Book Two: Shadow's Edge by Brent Weeks
It's been a long time, a really long time since I started reading Shadow's Edge by Brent Weeks, but as I have finished it today, I can firmly say it won't take long to read the third and final installment of The Night Angel Trilogy. As this is book two of a series, I can't help but include some spoilers in my review of it, so read with caution.
Book two tells the tale of our Kyler, the Night Angel, a wetboy, and killer extraordinaire, as he attempts to give up his bloody trade in favor of a life with Durzo's daughter and the ever lovely Elene as an herbalist and a part of a real family. However with Logan captive, Mamma K orchestrating a war that will decide whether Logan or The Godking will be king, Kyler has little choice but to return to his wetboy grays to do his duty as the bringer of retribution.
I can't begin to express how much I adore Brent Weeks and what he has done with this series. Every moment the reader thinks the story is going in one direction, it ends up gallivanting down the opposite ally only to have the book fall out of your hands when you realize nothing you thought was going to happen for the entire book happened at all. The writing has some truly lovely moments, and it's generally extremely good, but unlike some fantasy, the writing does focus on fast-paced accuracy and realism with little time for sweeping descriptions or poetic revelations. Told from the point of view of most of the character depending on the chapter, the writing can seem crass and the word choice occasionally crude, but only in keeping with the voices of his rather crass and crude cast.
Despite being one of the darker, more unashamedly gruesome series I've read, I've found the story to be remarkably beautiful at its core. It speaks of finding beauty within the ugly, redemption, goodness, forgiveness, nobility, and searching for a god where one has always been denied through the lives of the wretched, unfortunate, and maimed. The story is thought-provoking, honest, brutal, and above all else hopeful, for all who face their own demons.
"Count Drake had once told Kyler, 'There's a divinity that shapes beauty from our rough-hewn lives'" (Weeks pg. 634).
Total Pages: 636
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 8/10
Book two tells the tale of our Kyler, the Night Angel, a wetboy, and killer extraordinaire, as he attempts to give up his bloody trade in favor of a life with Durzo's daughter and the ever lovely Elene as an herbalist and a part of a real family. However with Logan captive, Mamma K orchestrating a war that will decide whether Logan or The Godking will be king, Kyler has little choice but to return to his wetboy grays to do his duty as the bringer of retribution.
I can't begin to express how much I adore Brent Weeks and what he has done with this series. Every moment the reader thinks the story is going in one direction, it ends up gallivanting down the opposite ally only to have the book fall out of your hands when you realize nothing you thought was going to happen for the entire book happened at all. The writing has some truly lovely moments, and it's generally extremely good, but unlike some fantasy, the writing does focus on fast-paced accuracy and realism with little time for sweeping descriptions or poetic revelations. Told from the point of view of most of the character depending on the chapter, the writing can seem crass and the word choice occasionally crude, but only in keeping with the voices of his rather crass and crude cast.
Despite being one of the darker, more unashamedly gruesome series I've read, I've found the story to be remarkably beautiful at its core. It speaks of finding beauty within the ugly, redemption, goodness, forgiveness, nobility, and searching for a god where one has always been denied through the lives of the wretched, unfortunate, and maimed. The story is thought-provoking, honest, brutal, and above all else hopeful, for all who face their own demons.
"Count Drake had once told Kyler, 'There's a divinity that shapes beauty from our rough-hewn lives'" (Weeks pg. 634).
Total Pages: 636
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 8/10
Friday, September 27, 2013
The Wise Man's Fear: Bad Movie Adaptations
Evening to you! The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss continues to be a really, really long book, but endlessly enjoyable none-the-less. I've managed to make it to page 612, so I'm officially over halfway through! So far I think Kvothe is actually better of in this book than book one, while avoiding spoilers I will say he's fallen into the favor of a rich person who doesn't want to kill or flog him, which is exceedingly good news considering his luck. I'm truly looking forward to him going on to do even more epic adventuring, and hopefully we'll see present day Kvothe become a bit more motivated once again.
Onto the question of movie adaptations. Recently movie adaptations have gotten quite a bit better than we've seen them to be in the past. I think we can all agree Peter Jackson improved Ralph Bakshi's telling of The Lord of The Rings (Why did he rob Aragorn of his pants? Bollocks! The poor strider deserves his pants!) But putting aside the God-awful efforts of the 90's to adapt fantasy novels, recently with some notable exceptions, these film efforts have improved monumentally.
For these good film adaptations, I actually believe it does encourage people to read the books. If one sees a movie they truly enjoy, then a lot of people, even more hesitant readers may be encouraged to see where it all began. However, if the film was terrible, we can all see how this would backfire. Ultimately, I think these movies can only aid the books as long as they were created with love for the books in mind. So film on Peter Jackson, and begone Ralph Bakshi! For all good books deserve good films, but not even the most miserable books deserve to be maimed by cheap Hollywood efforts!
Onto the question of movie adaptations. Recently movie adaptations have gotten quite a bit better than we've seen them to be in the past. I think we can all agree Peter Jackson improved Ralph Bakshi's telling of The Lord of The Rings (Why did he rob Aragorn of his pants? Bollocks! The poor strider deserves his pants!) But putting aside the God-awful efforts of the 90's to adapt fantasy novels, recently with some notable exceptions, these film efforts have improved monumentally.
For these good film adaptations, I actually believe it does encourage people to read the books. If one sees a movie they truly enjoy, then a lot of people, even more hesitant readers may be encouraged to see where it all began. However, if the film was terrible, we can all see how this would backfire. Ultimately, I think these movies can only aid the books as long as they were created with love for the books in mind. So film on Peter Jackson, and begone Ralph Bakshi! For all good books deserve good films, but not even the most miserable books deserve to be maimed by cheap Hollywood efforts!
Friday, September 20, 2013
The Scarlet Letter, I'd Rather Not
Greeting you lovlies you! This book is so long! So far I'm on page 350 of The Wise Man's Fear the second in The Kingkiller Chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss. So far our young hero Kvothe has been attacked relentlessly by all kinds of interesting people who want to kill him, one of them was a girl named Devi, which all things considered was interesting, because I would never try to kill Kvothe, but alas, I suppose not all Devis can be so fond of him. From early on we've known that Kvothe gets expelled from the University, but I'm only two-hundred pages shy of being halfway done, so I'm feeling that will happen fairly soon. Though I think it'll be rather sad when he leaves the university because I love some of the professors so much (I mean really, Master Elodin's class is called "Introduction on How Not to Be a Stupid Jackass") but I think it'll ultimately be rather refreshing to finally see Kvothe in a different setting.
Now on to the topic at hand, books one is assigned in class, what a wonderful mess that is. Though the answer is trite, I think it's honestly a mix of several different reasons that ultimately depend on the individual person and book and how the assignment is handled and how we treat the definition of what "literature" is, I could write a speech on this truly.
First of all let's talk about literature. Though certainly not all, and not really any of the good ones or any I've had, but some teachers and people in general get wrapped up in the idea that the only books worth reading are those that we dub literature, and that if any reader occasionally, or regularly enjoys a book that's simply light and entertaining (yes I'm talking about Twilight) suddenly this reader is tasteless, uneducated, and thinks that their boyfriends should sneak into their bedrooms at night and then send them into a suicidal frenzy, when really one may read a book, see it as a fun read, and move on. That's normal, and these books (let's call them snack books) have their place. You can't only eat them, they won't fully satisfy you're appetite, but many of them are healthy, or at least harmless in moderation. Now, what if one was only ever expected to read Tolstoy, Twain, and Tolkien, ( five star meal books) well, I think we would all be broke, over-stuffed, and eventually get rather sick of it all and really just wish we could have a simple sandwich. Though the metaphor may be rather long, it really comes down to what books are defined as being "worth reading".
Freshman year, the theme we were asked to look at through the different stories, books, plays, etc. we were reading was whether man was inherently good or inherently evil, and while most of the other freshman lit classes had their students reading Lord of the Flies, my lovely English teacher had us reading The Hunger Games, a book that explores the same themes while not teaching us that left to their own devices children would brutally kill each other. This all peaks at how books are presented to students.
When students are first being asked to read literature in class and do analysis of it, these books are expressed as the only good books, it becomes a matter of bitterness. When taking young elementary and middle school aged students who love to read, and suddenly only giving them things they don't want to read, it becomes a matter of "my opinion of valuable books is more valuable than yours" which can often lead to a lack of desire to read all together, let alone the same types of books they've been forced to read for years. Now, this isn't a criticism of literature, I swallow Austen, Dumas, Twain, and Shakespeare like sweet tea in the summer time, but only when they've been presented to be as lovable stories that I should read because people who I value have recommended them to me, but I'd maintain that nothing has taught me more about the goodness of the flawed man than The Death Gate Cycle or even animes like Rurouni Kenshin, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Death Note, stories that explore man's nature and the totalitarian philosophy without being forced to choke down Hawthorne like medicine for my cancer that ironically only made it worse.
So here are my thoughts, three options I think would cure today's literary-phobia: one, if it is a necessity for students to read The Glass Menagerie (which I enjoyed, thank you very much) their junior year, then make sure the class is reading it in specific increments with carefully evaluated class discussions delving deep into the issues the book is suppose to be uncovering. Two, present a potential reading list of fifty or so books that are considered great literature and give your students the option of picking the book that speaks true to them, if they'd rather read Jane Eyre than War and Peace, let them, if that's what they want they'll likely get more out of it anyway. Or three if the situation allows, explain to the class that for said unit the idea of allegory (or you know, whatever else) is being considered, and let them choose between Animal Farm, The Chronicles of Narnia, A New Leaf, or anything they're aware of that would fall into this category and leave it to the teacher's discretion to decide whether the book would be suitable or not. Reading should be a pleasure, and so should literature, but anything forced will only ever be a burden. Use your words, converse with the students, because even The Scarlet Letter can be talked about and unwrapped if done so with a commutative teacher.
Now on to the topic at hand, books one is assigned in class, what a wonderful mess that is. Though the answer is trite, I think it's honestly a mix of several different reasons that ultimately depend on the individual person and book and how the assignment is handled and how we treat the definition of what "literature" is, I could write a speech on this truly.
First of all let's talk about literature. Though certainly not all, and not really any of the good ones or any I've had, but some teachers and people in general get wrapped up in the idea that the only books worth reading are those that we dub literature, and that if any reader occasionally, or regularly enjoys a book that's simply light and entertaining (yes I'm talking about Twilight) suddenly this reader is tasteless, uneducated, and thinks that their boyfriends should sneak into their bedrooms at night and then send them into a suicidal frenzy, when really one may read a book, see it as a fun read, and move on. That's normal, and these books (let's call them snack books) have their place. You can't only eat them, they won't fully satisfy you're appetite, but many of them are healthy, or at least harmless in moderation. Now, what if one was only ever expected to read Tolstoy, Twain, and Tolkien, ( five star meal books) well, I think we would all be broke, over-stuffed, and eventually get rather sick of it all and really just wish we could have a simple sandwich. Though the metaphor may be rather long, it really comes down to what books are defined as being "worth reading".
Freshman year, the theme we were asked to look at through the different stories, books, plays, etc. we were reading was whether man was inherently good or inherently evil, and while most of the other freshman lit classes had their students reading Lord of the Flies, my lovely English teacher had us reading The Hunger Games, a book that explores the same themes while not teaching us that left to their own devices children would brutally kill each other. This all peaks at how books are presented to students.
When students are first being asked to read literature in class and do analysis of it, these books are expressed as the only good books, it becomes a matter of bitterness. When taking young elementary and middle school aged students who love to read, and suddenly only giving them things they don't want to read, it becomes a matter of "my opinion of valuable books is more valuable than yours" which can often lead to a lack of desire to read all together, let alone the same types of books they've been forced to read for years. Now, this isn't a criticism of literature, I swallow Austen, Dumas, Twain, and Shakespeare like sweet tea in the summer time, but only when they've been presented to be as lovable stories that I should read because people who I value have recommended them to me, but I'd maintain that nothing has taught me more about the goodness of the flawed man than The Death Gate Cycle or even animes like Rurouni Kenshin, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Death Note, stories that explore man's nature and the totalitarian philosophy without being forced to choke down Hawthorne like medicine for my cancer that ironically only made it worse.
So here are my thoughts, three options I think would cure today's literary-phobia: one, if it is a necessity for students to read The Glass Menagerie (which I enjoyed, thank you very much) their junior year, then make sure the class is reading it in specific increments with carefully evaluated class discussions delving deep into the issues the book is suppose to be uncovering. Two, present a potential reading list of fifty or so books that are considered great literature and give your students the option of picking the book that speaks true to them, if they'd rather read Jane Eyre than War and Peace, let them, if that's what they want they'll likely get more out of it anyway. Or three if the situation allows, explain to the class that for said unit the idea of allegory (or you know, whatever else) is being considered, and let them choose between Animal Farm, The Chronicles of Narnia, A New Leaf, or anything they're aware of that would fall into this category and leave it to the teacher's discretion to decide whether the book would be suitable or not. Reading should be a pleasure, and so should literature, but anything forced will only ever be a burden. Use your words, converse with the students, because even The Scarlet Letter can be talked about and unwrapped if done so with a commutative teacher.
Friday, September 13, 2013
A Story of Words
A Quick update on where I am in The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss, the second of The Kingkiller Chronicle. The sequel to The Name of The Wind is equally brilliant, losing none of the first book charm to the second book doom that so many sequels of even the best variety often fall victim too. I don't want to post spoilers, but the plot dost thicken, and I despise Ambrose viciously. I'm on page 244 out of 1107, so I have a long trek ahead of me, but I look forward to all of it greatly.
It's hard to say where my story of books began. Not with pictures, or even really being very good at reading, actually I needed special help in elementary school because I wasn't at grade level. But I think the story begins with my sister. Now, growing up, the main knowledge I had of my sister was that she had brown hair, glasses, wore really cool T-shirts, called me a bra when I was three (she said brat, I heard wrong) she loved to read, and wanted to be a writer. Now, being the idolizing little sister that I was at the age of seven, I too wanted to have brown hair, glasses, really cool T-shirts, call people bras, love reading and be a writer, unless only one person can be a writer in which case I would just turn into a blob, this remains frighteningly accurate.
There weren't a huge number of children's books I can really remember loving. Most of them seemed contrived, overly simple, and well, boring. I remember reading picture books and simply not caring about all of the random children learning moral tales from the peanut butter the spilled. Now, there were exceptions, I was a connoisseur of profound children's literature such as When You Give A Mouse A Cookie and The Very Hungry Caterpillar which I think we can all agree both hold more literary merit than The Scarlet Letter so I have no shame, I would still rather read either of those a million times that stare at one sentence Nathaniel Hawthorne stroked his mammoth of an ego while writing. But I loved The Death Gate Cycle by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman and Dominic Deegan: Oracle for Hire by Mooki with a sincere passion that stays with me today.
Both of these series my sister began reading to me in about the first or second grade, and they were my greatest loves. I would love nothing more than to simply spend hours listening to the story of Haplo, an anti-hero if I've ever seen one and his dog, or rather the dog, while I sat on the floor wrapped in blankets simply staring at the plywood patterns of the bookshelves in her room, or coloring in squares of graph paper with markers. Or reading a comic with sometimes poor art but a brilliant story about a grumpy seer who falls in love with a powerful yet suicidal sorceress named Luna with tusks that never let her feel beautiful. These are bizarre stories, but they taught me more than diction, I learned to be a person from them, I learned to empathize with types of people that would never be a character in The Box Car Children or The Magic Tree House. In a time where I was made of painful shyness and a weak will, stories and books at least began teaching me to love and admire and seek the personal strength I was lacking.
My story of books, no words, continues. With a love for stories so profound I sometimes feel I am little but that love. Grateful is too weak a word for what I feel towards my sister for not seeing a little curly-haired girl and thinking "child", but seeing her sister instead and thinking "person", and upon thinking this, gave me the greatest food any person needs. "Give a girl a book, and she'll read for a day. Teach her to love words, and she'll have a passion for a lifetime." Thanks is by no means enough, but I thank her none the less.
It's hard to say where my story of books began. Not with pictures, or even really being very good at reading, actually I needed special help in elementary school because I wasn't at grade level. But I think the story begins with my sister. Now, growing up, the main knowledge I had of my sister was that she had brown hair, glasses, wore really cool T-shirts, called me a bra when I was three (she said brat, I heard wrong) she loved to read, and wanted to be a writer. Now, being the idolizing little sister that I was at the age of seven, I too wanted to have brown hair, glasses, really cool T-shirts, call people bras, love reading and be a writer, unless only one person can be a writer in which case I would just turn into a blob, this remains frighteningly accurate.
There weren't a huge number of children's books I can really remember loving. Most of them seemed contrived, overly simple, and well, boring. I remember reading picture books and simply not caring about all of the random children learning moral tales from the peanut butter the spilled. Now, there were exceptions, I was a connoisseur of profound children's literature such as When You Give A Mouse A Cookie and The Very Hungry Caterpillar which I think we can all agree both hold more literary merit than The Scarlet Letter so I have no shame, I would still rather read either of those a million times that stare at one sentence Nathaniel Hawthorne stroked his mammoth of an ego while writing. But I loved The Death Gate Cycle by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman and Dominic Deegan: Oracle for Hire by Mooki with a sincere passion that stays with me today.
Both of these series my sister began reading to me in about the first or second grade, and they were my greatest loves. I would love nothing more than to simply spend hours listening to the story of Haplo, an anti-hero if I've ever seen one and his dog, or rather the dog, while I sat on the floor wrapped in blankets simply staring at the plywood patterns of the bookshelves in her room, or coloring in squares of graph paper with markers. Or reading a comic with sometimes poor art but a brilliant story about a grumpy seer who falls in love with a powerful yet suicidal sorceress named Luna with tusks that never let her feel beautiful. These are bizarre stories, but they taught me more than diction, I learned to be a person from them, I learned to empathize with types of people that would never be a character in The Box Car Children or The Magic Tree House. In a time where I was made of painful shyness and a weak will, stories and books at least began teaching me to love and admire and seek the personal strength I was lacking.
My story of books, no words, continues. With a love for stories so profound I sometimes feel I am little but that love. Grateful is too weak a word for what I feel towards my sister for not seeing a little curly-haired girl and thinking "child", but seeing her sister instead and thinking "person", and upon thinking this, gave me the greatest food any person needs. "Give a girl a book, and she'll read for a day. Teach her to love words, and she'll have a passion for a lifetime." Thanks is by no means enough, but I thank her none the less.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss
Kvothe is a man of legend. Marveled at for the lives he's saved, and cursed for those he's killed, and sung about for those he's loved, a hero of days gone by has retreated from his brilliant past to take on the duties of an inn-keeper under the name "Kote" at a small establishment called "The Weystone." As Kvothe polishes his cups and counters a man called the Chronicler is making his way on dangerous roads to request the story of a man as misunderstood as he is remembered from the hero of the legends himself. The Name of the Wind is the first of three days Kvothe spends telling his life's story to a historian and a student who can only hope this great man's journey doesn't truly end in a quiet tavern. The seven words to make a woman love you, dragons, drinks, folly, futility, infatuation and bravery make up the epic ballad of a man larger than life, and a story richer than kings.
I simply can't begin to express how sincerely I enjoyed The Name of the Wind Day One of The Kingkiller Chronicle. I haven't read a book in such a while that truly seems so...bardic. The framing used in the story is reminiscent of The Arabian Nights and brings a rich reality to the telling of the story. I simply cannot wait to read the second of the series, and count down the days on my calendar to...oh, um, until maybe he announces when it will be out but there isn't any news right now and his website said to wait and he didn't like withholding information and there'll be news when there is....
Anyway, there's so much I could say about a book like this. It was brilliant, beautiful, funny, tragic, romantic, tender, exciting and all around glorious. But what I want to say, what I really want to bring up, is the lead of this book, Kvothe, he wins. There. He did it. He, with just the first installment mind you, has just beat every young, starry-eyed orphan hero in fantasy book history for being the single most, perpetually screwed over character in existence. Feel free to challenge me on this, I would love to read any number of other fantasy books about a young kid who got traumatized, whipped, starved, robbed, stabbed, ignored, heart-broken, burned, knocked-out, threatened, told to jump off buildings-ed, did, and generally, well, screwed over than him, please let me know, because if so, authors are growing far too cruel (CLAMP).
But putting aside all of that fun, the book was remarkable. Nothing makes me happier than seeing some true bardic poetry come to the telling of stories, I haven't read much like it in the way of beautiful writing since The Lord of the Rings, and there isn't much of a greater compliment I can give than that. "It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. ... It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die" (pg. 1-2).
Total pages: 722
Number of Flying Platypus Tea Cups: 10/10
Friday, August 30, 2013
Electronic Books?
8/30/2013
Summary: So I haven't finished The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss yet, but I've read a good 220 pages so far, which means I'm about a third of the way through, so hurrah! I'm rather sick, so I'm sure this will be a good opportunity to maybe finish this weekend, but we'll see. Along with Game of Thrones The Name of the Wind has been acclaimed to be one of the best high-fantasy series since Lord of the Rings, and I can certainly see how it's earning that spot. The writing is poetic, artistic, lucid and entertaining. It's told in a way that's almost meant to be heard aloud because much of the story is told through our lead telling his story to another person, which I find to be a fascinating and engaging technique. So as not to be a spoiler monger, I won't say a great deal, however I certainly adore how the reader is getting to witness our pretentious little hero, Kvothe, make his transition from a travelling performer, to a beggar and cut-purse, and later on a man of legend. I can't express how much I respect Rothfuss as a storyteller, I'm astounded by his skill in keeping voice through his narration, it's truly beautiful.
Now on the topic of electronic books, I would open by saying for most, it's a sensitive one (most being people who read). I never want to live in a world where I can't walk into a book store or library, open the physical book, smell its pages, and touch the tea stains previous readers have left. There's little I love more than the smell of ink on paper. While I understand the point that with the growth of electronics paper books could disappear. While I find that thought terrifying, I truly don't think that'll happen. And here's why: I'm not the only one. Books are bought, published, written, and payed for by people who read and love them. While I think kindles and nooks are great, I'd really love one, I love the weight of a book in my hand so much more. I love seeing that my friend's backpack doesn't weight a good 150 pounds because he does his homework (Ha~) but because he carries a good eight to ten books with him at all times. These people, these poets and readers and writers for the most part feel the same way, and if they want to prevent idle ink from having no pages to fall on, they'll protect that.
But say things change, as they could, and books become 100% digitized, all I can do is quote John Green. "I don't care how people read, I just care that they read." And that's what it comes down to. For years upon years stories were told verbally, passed down verbally, and the sound and rhythm of these stories is what kept them alive, I would almost say that this art of storytelling is kind of dead. But stories are not dead. They are far more alive then I am and so many are available in so many different forms. So say we do lose our dusty pages by our fireplaces, we won't lose our stories and that's what is important. While I don't think a conscious and alert reader will lose any understanding by reading digitally, there's a loss of mood to be acknowledged, but ultimately, we as readers and storytellers lose nothing, because wherever we have to go to find stories and books, we will, and as the readers, the fate of paper books is up to us. If paper books are bought they will be made. As long as people, not just the select few who spend their free period in the library, but people as a whole rekindle (what, what's that? A really good pun you say? Thanks for noticing!) their love for stories, I don't care how they read them or find them as long as they do.
"There are worse crimes than burning books. One of them is not reading them." - Poet Joseph Brodsky
Summary: So I haven't finished The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss yet, but I've read a good 220 pages so far, which means I'm about a third of the way through, so hurrah! I'm rather sick, so I'm sure this will be a good opportunity to maybe finish this weekend, but we'll see. Along with Game of Thrones The Name of the Wind has been acclaimed to be one of the best high-fantasy series since Lord of the Rings, and I can certainly see how it's earning that spot. The writing is poetic, artistic, lucid and entertaining. It's told in a way that's almost meant to be heard aloud because much of the story is told through our lead telling his story to another person, which I find to be a fascinating and engaging technique. So as not to be a spoiler monger, I won't say a great deal, however I certainly adore how the reader is getting to witness our pretentious little hero, Kvothe, make his transition from a travelling performer, to a beggar and cut-purse, and later on a man of legend. I can't express how much I respect Rothfuss as a storyteller, I'm astounded by his skill in keeping voice through his narration, it's truly beautiful.
Now on the topic of electronic books, I would open by saying for most, it's a sensitive one (most being people who read). I never want to live in a world where I can't walk into a book store or library, open the physical book, smell its pages, and touch the tea stains previous readers have left. There's little I love more than the smell of ink on paper. While I understand the point that with the growth of electronics paper books could disappear. While I find that thought terrifying, I truly don't think that'll happen. And here's why: I'm not the only one. Books are bought, published, written, and payed for by people who read and love them. While I think kindles and nooks are great, I'd really love one, I love the weight of a book in my hand so much more. I love seeing that my friend's backpack doesn't weight a good 150 pounds because he does his homework (Ha~) but because he carries a good eight to ten books with him at all times. These people, these poets and readers and writers for the most part feel the same way, and if they want to prevent idle ink from having no pages to fall on, they'll protect that.
But say things change, as they could, and books become 100% digitized, all I can do is quote John Green. "I don't care how people read, I just care that they read." And that's what it comes down to. For years upon years stories were told verbally, passed down verbally, and the sound and rhythm of these stories is what kept them alive, I would almost say that this art of storytelling is kind of dead. But stories are not dead. They are far more alive then I am and so many are available in so many different forms. So say we do lose our dusty pages by our fireplaces, we won't lose our stories and that's what is important. While I don't think a conscious and alert reader will lose any understanding by reading digitally, there's a loss of mood to be acknowledged, but ultimately, we as readers and storytellers lose nothing, because wherever we have to go to find stories and books, we will, and as the readers, the fate of paper books is up to us. If paper books are bought they will be made. As long as people, not just the select few who spend their free period in the library, but people as a whole rekindle (what, what's that? A really good pun you say? Thanks for noticing!) their love for stories, I don't care how they read them or find them as long as they do.
"There are worse crimes than burning books. One of them is not reading them." - Poet Joseph Brodsky
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