Hello out there! It's been two months since the last post, and honestly, real life interfered a lot. Two weddings down, one to go, plus a few other trips in between, and the summer is just as busy as the spring. However, I am trying to catch up on my backlog, so here is the first of three reviews I owe you, my avid fans. Feel free to comment afterwards, or post questions. I love a good discussion and dissection of a literary work.
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I have always been a fan of fiction over non-fiction, particularly fantasy (rather than its partner genre, science fiction). I loved stories of quests, maidens, knights, magic, and all the creatures that go along with them. As a preteen, I became deeply engrossed in the Grimm brothers and their tellings of old tales; mythology came shortly thereafter in my reading list. My father had a copy of Bulfinch's Mythology, and I was a grateful recipient. Admittedly, some of the vocabulary escaped me, and I had a hard time recalling the names of the kings and queens. Locked within those pages though, was a world at once familiar and alien. I think to this day that some of my love of history was born from the beautiful and frightening stories told by the Greek myths.
I've read many collections of fairy tales, from mostly European cultures- Irish, German, Polish, French, British, Scottish, Italian, Dutch, and Scandinavian. I've read (the majority of) 1001 Arabian Nights; my grandfather had a leather bound copy, printed in the last quarter of the 19th century. In my teen years, my father gave me a copy of the Upanishads and the poetry of Omar Khayyam, as way of introduction to the more arcane topics of Eastern philosophies, reincarnation, and spirituality outside of religious dogma. As I became a teacher, I work to create a community of tolerance, so I often read creation myths from Asia, Africa, Australia and the Americas. I think I can say that I have a basic grasp on the mythologies of most of the cultures in the world.
Despite being so well-read, I can still think of some glaring holes in my knowledge. In high school I tried to rectify one of them by spending a month or two learning about the Nordic Eddas, after reading Eight Days of Luke by Diana Wynne Jones. The difficulty lay in the language. I had such a hard time pronouncing the names of places and people, that it drove me to distraction trying to figure them out; it got to the point that I was reading a story two or three times over for comprehension. I gained only a working understanding of the Norse pantheon before I gave up on it. Added to that is the almost complete lack of knowledge of the Celtic pantheon (in part stemming from a lack of fiction books and new age section in my local libraries). Gaelic only makes sense to me auditorily; the sounds and written letters screw me up every time. In fact, reading Gaelic to me is a lot like reading Chinese with the English alphabet; when trying to render the sounds in English, the English alphabet fails at the necessary phonetics.
Imagine my delight when I see a new series about the Celts on a friend's list; I decide it must go on my list too! The Iron Druid series by Kevin Hearne is a new fish in an old pond. The author begins with the Celtic pantheon, specifically that of Ireland in the late Roman period. The main character, one Atticus O'Sullivan, is the last living Druid, and we're not talking the neo-pagan type of the modern era. Trained in the first century BCE, Atticus is literally older than Jesus. There are four books thus far, with one set to release later this year, and another set for next year. The first book, Hounded, plays its role well as an introduction to the main character and the world in which he lives. The subsequent books are as well-written and compelling. Each one stems from the previous events, and build up a persona that is as complex as one would expect from someone two millenia old.
In the first fifteen pages of Hounded, Atticus comes under attack by the Fae offspring of a certain Celtic god, Anghus Og. It quickly comes to light that Atticus is a man who has spent much of his life on the run, hiding from Anghus Og and much of his own pantheon. Hiding for the better part of two millenia, Atticus is suddenly finding himself forced to turn and fight. In doing so, he looks for help from other supernatural creatures- werewolves, vampires, and witches. He also starts to feel his ageand the lonliness of being the last of his kind, so he decides to take an apprentice, a buxom bartender named Granuaile.
Hexed begins just a short time after the end of Hounded. Atticus finds himself under attack by a host of unsavory characters- Bacchants, witches, and demons. Instead of being a loner, on the run, and worrying only about himself, Atticus is pushed into being a community protector. Unfortunately, Atticus is not up to the task, and he is forced to call in back-up. There is a heavy price in each call, and Atticus is not a man who enjoys being in debt to anyone.
Those debts come due in the third and fourth books, Hammered and Tricked. I was riding high on the build-up from the first two books, and then the third book kinda threw me into a corner. I wasn't prepared for it. In the first two books, Atticus is like a consummate con artist; he puts me in mind of Mel Gibson's character from Payback. He has a goal in mind, and he tries to make sure the collateral damage is minimal, affecting only those who deserve it. The third book is darker because the plot plays chicken with the reader. It defines that old adage "Just because you can doesn't mean you should". You see where it's going, but you tell yourself there's no way Atticus would go all the way, in effect creating a war with an entire pantheon (and the ramifications of such of thing). Then there are the character ramifications, too, that blindside you. This book left me with mixed feelings; the writing and the story itself were great, but I was displeased with where it left the reader. Actually, the author did an amazing job of highlighting the flaws integral to the characters, and how their choices because of those flaws left them in a very bad place. I just didn't enjoy having to watch it all play out.
Tricked begins with those ramifications, namely the wrath of the gods of other pantheons. Atticus decides to start over, in effect, and fake his own death. Even his own gods believe him to be dead. In return, Coyote, trickster god of the southwest, calls in a debt owed. This book also left me feeling a little off-balance; I'm not sure I like where some of the side plots are heading. On the positive side, Atticus will finely have time and space to train his apprentice, the lovely Granuaile.
Overall I am hooked on the series. I love the geek humor inherent to the author's point of view. There are all kinds of references to Dr. Who, Star Trek, and the sci-fi genre in general. I also think the author has more than passing familiarity with roleplaying games, as some of the descriptions sound very reminiscent of ones I've seen. I'm impressed with the universe created in this series, specifically the use of mythology, and the laws governing types of magic and their use. The characters are well-defined; I like how the author will sometimes use a supporting character to illuminate the hubris of the main character. Atticus may be long-lived, and have a lot of power at his command, but he is still as flawed as any other man, and he doesn't always see that about himself until it is too late.
I am excited that a new energy is being put into an old mythology. If not for books like Eight Days of Luke, I would not have any knowledge of the Norse pantheon. Better than that, the book breathed new life into a topic most consider dusty and disconnected from modern life. The same goes for the Orphans of Chaos series, Percy Jackson series, and the Kane Chronicles. These books examine the Greek and Egyptian myths, and relate them to the modern world. I think Kevin Hearne is doing the same through the character of Atticus. In these times of secularism and science, we still look to archetypes and allegories to help make sense of the choatic elements in our lives, the emotions and gray areas that modern life still can't define. Myths have a deep and abiding place in our psyches, our collective (and individual) unconsciousness. We look to them, and we can see ourselves in the fables of gods and men. Those archetypes live on through us; at times, they capture the heart of a situation better than any psychologist. Anyone who lives paycheck to paycheck undoubtedly gets the picture that Sisyphus and his boulder paint. I think that Atticus O'Sullivan is that way, a myth living out a modern life. I eagerly await his further antics, and how create a legend out of himself.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Growing Up Never Happens
When we use the phrase "coming of age", we usually mean it to apply to those tender years of transition, teen to adult. It implies an expansion of worldview, a mastery of self, and a sense of greater maturity. The truth is, these things happen at every age, at any stage of life. A transition from an outmoded paradigm to a newer one requires a growth of self awareness; if you aren't doing this at every stage in life, you will definitely have emotional, mental, and social retardation.
When I was a freshman in college, I finally got around to reading Catcher in the Rye. I was not impressed, but that's because I read it too late. I felt Holden Caufield was a bit of a whiner. In some ways, I could not empathize with him because I had crossed that bridge, and could not imagine thinking that way. My worldview had expanded beyond that of Holden Caufield, and it could not go back to where it had been. That's what coming of age means. The newfound maturity prevents you from regressing (unless at every stage you choose regression over growth, but most people don't).
I think the term "coming of age" applies to Julie & Julia, by Julie Powell. In this case, though, it's more of a quarter life crisis meets "growing up". It's a memoir of a sort, an exaggerated biography of a point in the author's life that we all face as we truly mature into adults- turning thirty. A century ago, that was almost middle-aged, and fifty years ago it was a time at which everyone was expected to be well settled and established, deep into a career or raising a household. It was a symbolic point of what we as children considered "old". In this decade, turning thirty seems superficially scary, because as we come out of the haze of post-graduation depression, we are left facing a lot of left over thoughts from childhood, ideas of who we would be, what we'd be doing, and what kind of life we'd be living. Facing those childhood illusions of self can put some into a tailspin previously only seen in the midlife crisis of the forties.
Herein, the author faces her own outmoded sense of self, coming to the realization that childhood was far behind her, and the reality of her future looked little like how she imagined it. The dream of a successful career and modern suburban family was as insubstantial as fog off the Hudson River. Instead she finds herself at age 29 committing to a job as a secretary, unconsciously releasing the goal of being an actress. She also learns that she has a syndrome that will make it harder for her to conceive as she ages. On a less than conscious level, this deeply disturbs the author, as both the syndrome and career move are wholly counter to her own previous sense of self. If she is not an actress, and she might not be a mother, who is she and where is she going from here?
In a fit of desperation (and cream-induced mania), the author takes up a quest. It is how every culture, at one point or another, challenges the next generation- go on this quest, learn who you truly are, and come back to us as an example of how to live a life. (Ironically, from a sociological and anthropological standpoint, we it is one thing we lack in our post-modern Western society, and I think it may be one of the reasons why so many in our society are on antidepressants. We have not had the benefit of some challenge, some quest, to force us to define ourselves or to live fully knowing who we are. College, to wit, is clearly not the answer). This story takes place almost a decade ago, when blogs and podcasts were brand new, a cutting edge use of modern technology. The author creates a blog, and at her husband's gentle urging, challenges herself to cook her way through an iconic volume of American culture- Mastering the Art of French Cooking, by Julia Child. The quest for self is begun.
As the story moves forward, the author is very successful at stringing together anecdotes, like cranberries and popcorn at Christmas time, to dress up a somewhat spindly story of her journey to reconcile her adult self with her dreams from childhood. I found myself not thinking of the author as a real person, though in truth there are many like her in my generation. It seems to me she is somewhat superficially witty, lacking any true depth or introspective philosophy to guide her through life. Our modern society prizes our materialistic attitudes, and indirectly punishes those who come to an intrinsic sense of self worth. In response, many do not take time to reflect on their lives, and so internal (and external) conflict throws a real wrench into the works, because without intrinsic value, there is little to go forward with, as this author demonstrates.
Don't get me wrong, the author does indeed accept a large undertaking. Julia Child's revered tome is a culinary challenge even for those who know their way around a kitchen. What I found inspiring was how the author went about her self-discovery. Some take up skydiving or deep-sea fishing. Others gamble or go on bacchanalian retreats, drowning mental questions in sensory overload. Instead, the author seeks to find herself (however unconsciously) by mastering a necessary life skill- cooking. It combines the sensory delights of the above, with a deeply philosophical outlook on life. When learning to cook a new dish, you learn about the culture the dish comes from, the physical skills necessary to execute it, and the nurturing feelings that come from feeding others. It's a good way to find yourself.
Overall, it was a good read, though much like Holden Caufield, I suspect it affected others more deeply than it affected me. Just getting into my thirties now, I am older in many regards than the author was when she wrote this. I got over the nebulous fear of turning thirty before I was twenty-six, but life experiences differ for all of us. All the same, I can appreciate what the author went through to find herself. The quest to maturity is never an easy one; if it was, maturity would be unattainable. And once past the tipping point, we come to realize it was not age we were afraid of, but disappointing our younger selves (or in some cases, those who love us the most). All in all, I can see why it was made into a movie, and now I can finally watch it on Netflix.
When I was a freshman in college, I finally got around to reading Catcher in the Rye. I was not impressed, but that's because I read it too late. I felt Holden Caufield was a bit of a whiner. In some ways, I could not empathize with him because I had crossed that bridge, and could not imagine thinking that way. My worldview had expanded beyond that of Holden Caufield, and it could not go back to where it had been. That's what coming of age means. The newfound maturity prevents you from regressing (unless at every stage you choose regression over growth, but most people don't).
I think the term "coming of age" applies to Julie & Julia, by Julie Powell. In this case, though, it's more of a quarter life crisis meets "growing up". It's a memoir of a sort, an exaggerated biography of a point in the author's life that we all face as we truly mature into adults- turning thirty. A century ago, that was almost middle-aged, and fifty years ago it was a time at which everyone was expected to be well settled and established, deep into a career or raising a household. It was a symbolic point of what we as children considered "old". In this decade, turning thirty seems superficially scary, because as we come out of the haze of post-graduation depression, we are left facing a lot of left over thoughts from childhood, ideas of who we would be, what we'd be doing, and what kind of life we'd be living. Facing those childhood illusions of self can put some into a tailspin previously only seen in the midlife crisis of the forties.
Herein, the author faces her own outmoded sense of self, coming to the realization that childhood was far behind her, and the reality of her future looked little like how she imagined it. The dream of a successful career and modern suburban family was as insubstantial as fog off the Hudson River. Instead she finds herself at age 29 committing to a job as a secretary, unconsciously releasing the goal of being an actress. She also learns that she has a syndrome that will make it harder for her to conceive as she ages. On a less than conscious level, this deeply disturbs the author, as both the syndrome and career move are wholly counter to her own previous sense of self. If she is not an actress, and she might not be a mother, who is she and where is she going from here?
In a fit of desperation (and cream-induced mania), the author takes up a quest. It is how every culture, at one point or another, challenges the next generation- go on this quest, learn who you truly are, and come back to us as an example of how to live a life. (Ironically, from a sociological and anthropological standpoint, we it is one thing we lack in our post-modern Western society, and I think it may be one of the reasons why so many in our society are on antidepressants. We have not had the benefit of some challenge, some quest, to force us to define ourselves or to live fully knowing who we are. College, to wit, is clearly not the answer). This story takes place almost a decade ago, when blogs and podcasts were brand new, a cutting edge use of modern technology. The author creates a blog, and at her husband's gentle urging, challenges herself to cook her way through an iconic volume of American culture- Mastering the Art of French Cooking, by Julia Child. The quest for self is begun.
As the story moves forward, the author is very successful at stringing together anecdotes, like cranberries and popcorn at Christmas time, to dress up a somewhat spindly story of her journey to reconcile her adult self with her dreams from childhood. I found myself not thinking of the author as a real person, though in truth there are many like her in my generation. It seems to me she is somewhat superficially witty, lacking any true depth or introspective philosophy to guide her through life. Our modern society prizes our materialistic attitudes, and indirectly punishes those who come to an intrinsic sense of self worth. In response, many do not take time to reflect on their lives, and so internal (and external) conflict throws a real wrench into the works, because without intrinsic value, there is little to go forward with, as this author demonstrates.
Don't get me wrong, the author does indeed accept a large undertaking. Julia Child's revered tome is a culinary challenge even for those who know their way around a kitchen. What I found inspiring was how the author went about her self-discovery. Some take up skydiving or deep-sea fishing. Others gamble or go on bacchanalian retreats, drowning mental questions in sensory overload. Instead, the author seeks to find herself (however unconsciously) by mastering a necessary life skill- cooking. It combines the sensory delights of the above, with a deeply philosophical outlook on life. When learning to cook a new dish, you learn about the culture the dish comes from, the physical skills necessary to execute it, and the nurturing feelings that come from feeding others. It's a good way to find yourself.
Overall, it was a good read, though much like Holden Caufield, I suspect it affected others more deeply than it affected me. Just getting into my thirties now, I am older in many regards than the author was when she wrote this. I got over the nebulous fear of turning thirty before I was twenty-six, but life experiences differ for all of us. All the same, I can appreciate what the author went through to find herself. The quest to maturity is never an easy one; if it was, maturity would be unattainable. And once past the tipping point, we come to realize it was not age we were afraid of, but disappointing our younger selves (or in some cases, those who love us the most). All in all, I can see why it was made into a movie, and now I can finally watch it on Netflix.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Dreams of a Night at the Circus
*****Author's note- I finished this book a month ago, and I hand-wrote the review. It's taken me that much time to get it posted. Sorry for the delay. Hopefully I will have the next one posted tomorrow.*****
I got one of my favorite types of presents from a coworker at Christmas- a new book! Everyone roll their eyes in shock. It's a lovely hardback copy of Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus. Even more interesting though, is that this same coworker is the one who lent me the Juliet Marillier books. Both my coworker and Juliet Marillier have raved about this story; such a small world! Personally, I think they were right to be excited about it. Magic, mystery, murder, all in a post-Victorian Europe (and well, the US too, for parts). It's awesome! Rich on description, but not overly flowery, with a subtlety that you're more likely to find in theater pieces. Anything can happen in the Night Circus; your dreams unfold before your very eyes.
Two magicians disagree on a philosophical point. To settle the debate, they each train a student, who then are expected to compete in a prolonged duel, much like a game of chess. But a matter of paradigm difference and one-upmanship gradually become a collaboration, and then a dance. Instead of wearing one another down, the students hold each other up, building upon each other's creations. The end result is a realm of beauty and magic, where the line between illusion and reality is blurred, and possibilities live and breathe. However, the love they find together threatens all those involved, and the game must have an end....
I'm going to do something a bit heretical here and compare a book to a movie. The cardinal rule that the book is (almost) always superior to the movie is something I agree with; my imagination can always create better special effects. However, by giving this comparison, I hope to give you the reader a better understanding of the mood and setting in this book. If you have seen the movie The Illusionist with Edward Norton and Jessica Biel, then you will have an easier time understanding this novel. (I actually envision one of the magicians in the book looking and sounding a lot like Rufus Sewell's character from that movie). If you have not seen this movie, I highly suggest it, though it is not necessary to see it before reading this book. Much like this movie, the author does a very good job of creating an air of mystery, the idea of seen-but-not-understood-at-the-time. I'll come back to that thought in just a minute; for now, let's continue with the atmosphere of the story.
The time period of the book is the late 19th century. It was a time of both suffocating social order and unprecedented universal change. One really could change social standing and wealth with wit and opportunity. Opportunities were seemingly endless. The concept of a self-made person came to define the national goal of several countries. Using this mood to her advantage, the author creates an atmosphere that possibility is imminent reality. To give this feeling a concrete basis, she uses the medium of live performances. At a time when live performance is the most common form of entertainment for all members of the populace, the use of a circus as a stage for a magicians duel is brilliant. A live performance is an organic thing, a truly living entity of its own. It is wholly dependent on the symbiotic relationship of the performer and the audience. The performance brings the audience's imagination to life, and in return the audience fuels the performance with their very presence. Without an audience, a performance is theory without application. The author does an amazing job of showing this relationship; those patrons of the circus that are truly inspired by it are made into an informal network that describes their own experiences to others, as well as keeping track of the whereabouts of the circus. Altogether appropriately, they call themselves Les Reveurs, The Dreamers, for it is the stuff of dreams that the circus, and therefore the author, brings to life.
To that end, the author makes an interesting philosophical note. With this story she states that mystery is a necessary goad to stimulate innovation. One cannot dream of possibilities if the situation is clear and resolved. Conflict and mystery provide the opening necessary for people to imagine new solutions and be open to all possibilities. Without knowing where the walls are, a room can look and be almost anything. To illustrate this point, the author provides us with a masterpiece of clockwork, a definitive symbol of the circus itself. Throughout the day it changes from one color to another, shapes coming and going. It's cyclical, and yet it also seems to point to all possibilities. The same can be said of the rides and other amusements in the circus, specifically the attractions created by both mages.
Now, I don't normally read other reviews before I write my own, but this time I was interested to see what detractors had to say. It helped to provide focus, an exercise in defining my own thoughts by contrasting them against other opinions. Two notes were continually voiced, and I felt compelled to rebut them. The first detraction is that the romantic side of the story was flat. The second was that the author broke the cardinal rule of creative writing, "show, not tell". I think in this case, the author's subtlety went under the radar; readers could not believe the showing, because it seemed like telling with all the dialogue.
The author chose a difficult viewpoint, or rather, she used an uncommon one. Third person limited is more common in theater; you have to watch the interaction to gain insight into the thoughts and feelings of the characters. As a viewpoint, it is uncommon in a novel, because the author has to let the reader imagine the interaction for themselves and let the dialogue stand on its own. Third person omniscient is more common, because the author can then describe all the thoughts and feelings of the characters, without having to rely on the readers' imaginations. By using this limited voice, the author created the symbiotic relationship of a live performance within the realm of a static object, echoing the theme of the book.
As a way to show the subtlety of human interaction, the author does something creative- she uses a multitude of characters, and she switches setting often, once again echoing the movement and flow of a live performance. If the people around us reflect portions of who we are, then the more people looking at us, the better we can see ourselves. The myriad personalities in the book are like prisms, reflecting back aspects of the two main characters. What they don't say for themselves seems to be played out by others. The multiplicity of people, places, and times is also how the author builds the mystery of the circus and the events that shape the outcome. Like a burlesque dancer with ostrich-plumed fans, the audience never fully sees all that happens. You're left with glimpses of identity, insinuating images, and dreamlike locations. Much like The Illusionist (or Usual Suspects for that matter), everything is in plain sight, but you only get fragments of the whole picture. For some, this might seem like the author is "telling" and not "showing"; she illuminates each fragment, but it is up to the reader to light the whole picture before the end. The depth of description and bold imagery in a way acts as camouflage to the dialogue. Your mind's eye keeps lingering on the texture of the setting, so that you are only giving half an ear to the conversation. It's the author's slight-of-hand at work. You can't see the plot steaming forward because you're caught up in the imaginative playground she has created.
The other criticism against this story was the romance aspect, namely that some reviewers felt it was lacking. I don't think they were paying attention. There are a few points to this that I'd like to discuss. First, the two main characters seemed to have limited contact with each other. For almost half the story, one did not know the other supposed to be the challenger. This entire romance operated like a lot like a modern long distance relationship, given how little they got to be together. Secondly, the setting has its impact on the unfolding of this romance. In keeping with the time and place of the story, the author writes the development of love with an eye to the post-Victorian era. The modesty of the commentary exchanged goes a bit against the modern sensibilities; we expect love stories to be a bit more vulgar. I don't mean crude; I mean that we expect to hear outright how people feel, with open displays of affection, and descriptions of bodily reactions. Instead, the author has to show us, through the characters limited interaction and the voice of the time, how much impact they have on each other. Given the limited scope of the viewpoint, that's quite a job, and she pulls it off well. She uses the rich imagery of the circus to illustrate how the feelings of the characters evolve, and the impact they have on each other. They build new attractions within the circus, making a waltz out of a duel to the death. The energy between them literally brightens a room, making lights flare. As the characters grow through the story, they become each other's perfect complement, one fitting the other like a dovetail joint. The result is beautiful symmetry, something that many of us aspire to within our own partnerships.
There were a couple of mysteries I did not solve in the course of reading this novel, which means I'll just have to reread it at some future date. Overall, I felt this story was very moving, and the author did a phenomenal job of creating a piece of theater within the covers of a book. I actually hope they do make this into a movie; I think that Neil Burger, director of The Illusionist could bring this story to life in such a way as to be a credit to the book. Until then, je suis une reveure.....
I got one of my favorite types of presents from a coworker at Christmas- a new book! Everyone roll their eyes in shock. It's a lovely hardback copy of Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus. Even more interesting though, is that this same coworker is the one who lent me the Juliet Marillier books. Both my coworker and Juliet Marillier have raved about this story; such a small world! Personally, I think they were right to be excited about it. Magic, mystery, murder, all in a post-Victorian Europe (and well, the US too, for parts). It's awesome! Rich on description, but not overly flowery, with a subtlety that you're more likely to find in theater pieces. Anything can happen in the Night Circus; your dreams unfold before your very eyes.
Two magicians disagree on a philosophical point. To settle the debate, they each train a student, who then are expected to compete in a prolonged duel, much like a game of chess. But a matter of paradigm difference and one-upmanship gradually become a collaboration, and then a dance. Instead of wearing one another down, the students hold each other up, building upon each other's creations. The end result is a realm of beauty and magic, where the line between illusion and reality is blurred, and possibilities live and breathe. However, the love they find together threatens all those involved, and the game must have an end....
I'm going to do something a bit heretical here and compare a book to a movie. The cardinal rule that the book is (almost) always superior to the movie is something I agree with; my imagination can always create better special effects. However, by giving this comparison, I hope to give you the reader a better understanding of the mood and setting in this book. If you have seen the movie The Illusionist with Edward Norton and Jessica Biel, then you will have an easier time understanding this novel. (I actually envision one of the magicians in the book looking and sounding a lot like Rufus Sewell's character from that movie). If you have not seen this movie, I highly suggest it, though it is not necessary to see it before reading this book. Much like this movie, the author does a very good job of creating an air of mystery, the idea of seen-but-not-understood-at-the-time. I'll come back to that thought in just a minute; for now, let's continue with the atmosphere of the story.
The time period of the book is the late 19th century. It was a time of both suffocating social order and unprecedented universal change. One really could change social standing and wealth with wit and opportunity. Opportunities were seemingly endless. The concept of a self-made person came to define the national goal of several countries. Using this mood to her advantage, the author creates an atmosphere that possibility is imminent reality. To give this feeling a concrete basis, she uses the medium of live performances. At a time when live performance is the most common form of entertainment for all members of the populace, the use of a circus as a stage for a magicians duel is brilliant. A live performance is an organic thing, a truly living entity of its own. It is wholly dependent on the symbiotic relationship of the performer and the audience. The performance brings the audience's imagination to life, and in return the audience fuels the performance with their very presence. Without an audience, a performance is theory without application. The author does an amazing job of showing this relationship; those patrons of the circus that are truly inspired by it are made into an informal network that describes their own experiences to others, as well as keeping track of the whereabouts of the circus. Altogether appropriately, they call themselves Les Reveurs, The Dreamers, for it is the stuff of dreams that the circus, and therefore the author, brings to life.
To that end, the author makes an interesting philosophical note. With this story she states that mystery is a necessary goad to stimulate innovation. One cannot dream of possibilities if the situation is clear and resolved. Conflict and mystery provide the opening necessary for people to imagine new solutions and be open to all possibilities. Without knowing where the walls are, a room can look and be almost anything. To illustrate this point, the author provides us with a masterpiece of clockwork, a definitive symbol of the circus itself. Throughout the day it changes from one color to another, shapes coming and going. It's cyclical, and yet it also seems to point to all possibilities. The same can be said of the rides and other amusements in the circus, specifically the attractions created by both mages.
Now, I don't normally read other reviews before I write my own, but this time I was interested to see what detractors had to say. It helped to provide focus, an exercise in defining my own thoughts by contrasting them against other opinions. Two notes were continually voiced, and I felt compelled to rebut them. The first detraction is that the romantic side of the story was flat. The second was that the author broke the cardinal rule of creative writing, "show, not tell". I think in this case, the author's subtlety went under the radar; readers could not believe the showing, because it seemed like telling with all the dialogue.
The author chose a difficult viewpoint, or rather, she used an uncommon one. Third person limited is more common in theater; you have to watch the interaction to gain insight into the thoughts and feelings of the characters. As a viewpoint, it is uncommon in a novel, because the author has to let the reader imagine the interaction for themselves and let the dialogue stand on its own. Third person omniscient is more common, because the author can then describe all the thoughts and feelings of the characters, without having to rely on the readers' imaginations. By using this limited voice, the author created the symbiotic relationship of a live performance within the realm of a static object, echoing the theme of the book.
As a way to show the subtlety of human interaction, the author does something creative- she uses a multitude of characters, and she switches setting often, once again echoing the movement and flow of a live performance. If the people around us reflect portions of who we are, then the more people looking at us, the better we can see ourselves. The myriad personalities in the book are like prisms, reflecting back aspects of the two main characters. What they don't say for themselves seems to be played out by others. The multiplicity of people, places, and times is also how the author builds the mystery of the circus and the events that shape the outcome. Like a burlesque dancer with ostrich-plumed fans, the audience never fully sees all that happens. You're left with glimpses of identity, insinuating images, and dreamlike locations. Much like The Illusionist (or Usual Suspects for that matter), everything is in plain sight, but you only get fragments of the whole picture. For some, this might seem like the author is "telling" and not "showing"; she illuminates each fragment, but it is up to the reader to light the whole picture before the end. The depth of description and bold imagery in a way acts as camouflage to the dialogue. Your mind's eye keeps lingering on the texture of the setting, so that you are only giving half an ear to the conversation. It's the author's slight-of-hand at work. You can't see the plot steaming forward because you're caught up in the imaginative playground she has created.
The other criticism against this story was the romance aspect, namely that some reviewers felt it was lacking. I don't think they were paying attention. There are a few points to this that I'd like to discuss. First, the two main characters seemed to have limited contact with each other. For almost half the story, one did not know the other supposed to be the challenger. This entire romance operated like a lot like a modern long distance relationship, given how little they got to be together. Secondly, the setting has its impact on the unfolding of this romance. In keeping with the time and place of the story, the author writes the development of love with an eye to the post-Victorian era. The modesty of the commentary exchanged goes a bit against the modern sensibilities; we expect love stories to be a bit more vulgar. I don't mean crude; I mean that we expect to hear outright how people feel, with open displays of affection, and descriptions of bodily reactions. Instead, the author has to show us, through the characters limited interaction and the voice of the time, how much impact they have on each other. Given the limited scope of the viewpoint, that's quite a job, and she pulls it off well. She uses the rich imagery of the circus to illustrate how the feelings of the characters evolve, and the impact they have on each other. They build new attractions within the circus, making a waltz out of a duel to the death. The energy between them literally brightens a room, making lights flare. As the characters grow through the story, they become each other's perfect complement, one fitting the other like a dovetail joint. The result is beautiful symmetry, something that many of us aspire to within our own partnerships.
There were a couple of mysteries I did not solve in the course of reading this novel, which means I'll just have to reread it at some future date. Overall, I felt this story was very moving, and the author did a phenomenal job of creating a piece of theater within the covers of a book. I actually hope they do make this into a movie; I think that Neil Burger, director of The Illusionist could bring this story to life in such a way as to be a credit to the book. Until then, je suis une reveure.....
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Rabbit Hole, Looking Glass, or Just Some Really Good Beverages....
It's been awhile (okay, maybe an entire month). I apologize. I know how eagerly you all (or maybe just myself), await each installment, hovering on the edge of your seats, just dying to know what I've read. Well, this time I decided to try something new. I spent the last month reading an entire five-book series, thinking I could then pass along a more informative review. I'm not sure if this will play out well, but that was my original thought.
The series that caught my attention is once again from the realm of young adult fiction. I saw a blurb for the third book in the series on Goodreads; it seemed like something I'd enjoy. In a stroke of luck, at the end of the December, I found the second and third books in the bargain section at Books-A-Million; for the price of the first book, I got the two bargain books. Three books for the price of two? Yes, I will take that deal. However, the series had to wait for me to finish a few other books first, so it languished on a shelf for a month before I could get back to it.
Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo by Obert Skye was not entirely what I expected. It's the first book in the series, and I suspect it's the first mass-print book by the author. I gave it three stars on Goodreads, and it's one of the few times I think that I didn't need a half star extra. Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad read. It was just.... well let me go over the plot first.
There is a place where dreams come from, or maybe it's a place they go to. There is a place that exists outside the realm of reality, that is a conduit for your imagination. That place is called Foo, and it is in dire need of a savior. Lucky for them, Leven Thumps will be given the job. Aided by his new friends, Winter Frore, Geth, and Clover, Leven will race halfway across the world to destroy the only gateway into Foo. Despite growing up in the most apathetic and abusive of households, Leven is a generous and helpful guy, intending to do his best (unless he's asleep and dreaming of his unworthiness).
As I was saying, this book has some of the tell-tale marks of being a first by the author. Or maybe I was expecting too much detail from a YA book. At times the reading became repetitive and stilted; other times the descriptions were lacking the necessary fleshing-out to bring them to life. It was like seeing someone with stage fright going through their part, knowing that if they just warmed up and relaxed into it, the performance would be amazing.
The second book, The Whispered Secret, was of similar difficulty, except the backdrop was Foo instead of reality. Some of the creatures that inhabit Foo are well illustrated with words, and others were still a little two-dimensional. It reminded me a lot of reading Through the Looking Glass, or maybe a Seussian version of it. I could still see the potential for an amazing story, but some of the charisma and dynamism of the plot would be shadowed, like a cloud passing over the sun. There was still enough pull for me to want to keep going, and I figured I already had the third book, so I kept at it.
Now, it was all starting to come together. In The Eyes of the Want, the descriptions of the backdrop and the evolution of the characters started to really gather steam. It was like hearing the engine of a Porsche Boxster rev up. You could just feel it ready to take off on a wild ride. Some questions were still left unanswered, but the story was so engrossing that after sailing through the book and having only eighty pages left, I ran out to the bookstore and bought the final two books.... in a snowstorm. I mean, I really didn't want to get through the third book and have to wait another day or two before I could continue the story.
I swear, I am not a book junkie.
Ok, maybe I am.
Anyway, The Wrath of Ezra and The Ruins of Alder were both outstanding. The whole thing was polished, well written, and a bit of a nail biter. I HAD TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT. Quite the transformation from the first book, huh? The author did a good job of sticking with the maturity level of the targeted audience, but there was a lot there for adults too. Serious topics were glossed with a sheen of humor, and it made harder abstractions easier to grasp. I think it had a few good life lessons in the series, and there were a couple of plot twists I didn't see coming. Overall, I could see myself as a nine or ten year old and loving this series. This would have been right up there with Madeline L'Engle for me as a kid.
Of course, I happen to like plaid elephants and pigs on zip lines, so maybe my version of reality isn't exactly normal either.
The series that caught my attention is once again from the realm of young adult fiction. I saw a blurb for the third book in the series on Goodreads; it seemed like something I'd enjoy. In a stroke of luck, at the end of the December, I found the second and third books in the bargain section at Books-A-Million; for the price of the first book, I got the two bargain books. Three books for the price of two? Yes, I will take that deal. However, the series had to wait for me to finish a few other books first, so it languished on a shelf for a month before I could get back to it.
Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo by Obert Skye was not entirely what I expected. It's the first book in the series, and I suspect it's the first mass-print book by the author. I gave it three stars on Goodreads, and it's one of the few times I think that I didn't need a half star extra. Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad read. It was just.... well let me go over the plot first.
There is a place where dreams come from, or maybe it's a place they go to. There is a place that exists outside the realm of reality, that is a conduit for your imagination. That place is called Foo, and it is in dire need of a savior. Lucky for them, Leven Thumps will be given the job. Aided by his new friends, Winter Frore, Geth, and Clover, Leven will race halfway across the world to destroy the only gateway into Foo. Despite growing up in the most apathetic and abusive of households, Leven is a generous and helpful guy, intending to do his best (unless he's asleep and dreaming of his unworthiness).
As I was saying, this book has some of the tell-tale marks of being a first by the author. Or maybe I was expecting too much detail from a YA book. At times the reading became repetitive and stilted; other times the descriptions were lacking the necessary fleshing-out to bring them to life. It was like seeing someone with stage fright going through their part, knowing that if they just warmed up and relaxed into it, the performance would be amazing.
The second book, The Whispered Secret, was of similar difficulty, except the backdrop was Foo instead of reality. Some of the creatures that inhabit Foo are well illustrated with words, and others were still a little two-dimensional. It reminded me a lot of reading Through the Looking Glass, or maybe a Seussian version of it. I could still see the potential for an amazing story, but some of the charisma and dynamism of the plot would be shadowed, like a cloud passing over the sun. There was still enough pull for me to want to keep going, and I figured I already had the third book, so I kept at it.
Now, it was all starting to come together. In The Eyes of the Want, the descriptions of the backdrop and the evolution of the characters started to really gather steam. It was like hearing the engine of a Porsche Boxster rev up. You could just feel it ready to take off on a wild ride. Some questions were still left unanswered, but the story was so engrossing that after sailing through the book and having only eighty pages left, I ran out to the bookstore and bought the final two books.... in a snowstorm. I mean, I really didn't want to get through the third book and have to wait another day or two before I could continue the story.
I swear, I am not a book junkie.
Ok, maybe I am.
Anyway, The Wrath of Ezra and The Ruins of Alder were both outstanding. The whole thing was polished, well written, and a bit of a nail biter. I HAD TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT. Quite the transformation from the first book, huh? The author did a good job of sticking with the maturity level of the targeted audience, but there was a lot there for adults too. Serious topics were glossed with a sheen of humor, and it made harder abstractions easier to grasp. I think it had a few good life lessons in the series, and there were a couple of plot twists I didn't see coming. Overall, I could see myself as a nine or ten year old and loving this series. This would have been right up there with Madeline L'Engle for me as a kid.
Of course, I happen to like plaid elephants and pigs on zip lines, so maybe my version of reality isn't exactly normal either.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Torture- It's all a head game
So I received the following email in my inbox this week:*
"Dear Ms. Mitsch,
I am writing this letter to let you know that I am so glad to hear you are such a fan of my work. I have seen the review you wrote for Wolfskin, and I felt somewhat sorry for the emotional state it left you in. Had I known that it was such a challenge to read such an obvious plotline, I'd have changed it right from the start! Instead, I hope you continue on to read Foxmask, my sequel to Wolfskin. I wrote it especially for you!** Please let me know how you fare with it. All my best, Juliet Marillier."
It's so nice to be thought of! Especially in advanced retrospect, or is it retroactively proactive? Anywho, it took me a week (and a lot of nailbiting and late nights), but I finished Foxmask by Juliet Marillier. Clearly, she heard my plea last week for a more mysterious storyline; I got just that. Maybe I should have been a little quieter in my demands. Had I known what was to be delivered, I'd have cheered my good luck in getting the openess of Wolfskin. Instead, this week, Ms. Marillier handed me a piece of cotton gauze, bid me to bind my eyes lightly, and put me in the passenger seat of her convertible. I was to instruct her turning of the wheel as we drove down Route 1, hugging California's Pacific coastline on a foggy winter's morning. Dear God, what horrific rush!
Whereas Wolfskin made an obvious statement of story arc in the very beginning of the book, Foxmask was almost the complete opposite. The book is set almost two decades after the end of Wolfskin, dealing with the children of Eyvind and Somerled. Eyvind's daughter, Creidhe, is the picture of domestic arts and goodwife practicality. Thorvald, child of Margaret and Somerled, is an outsider in his community, more due to his own moodiness and self-centered nature than anything else. As the story opens, Margaret tells him the truth of his parentage, sending his world into tumult. Being eighteen, impetuous, and full of himself, Thorvald decides to go on a little expedition, just to see if his father is still alive. That's about the only clue the author gives as to where this ride is going to take us.
Much like the rocky and pinwheeling nature of California's coast, this plot moves quickly in one direction, then another, and back again. You can only get the barest glimpse of what's ahead of you, hardly enough to formulate where the road is leading at any given time. Once again (or maybe as usual?), the author tackles some big philosophical questions. Can a person change their nature? How fixed are our personalities, given the genetic inheritance and the environmental pressures? How much farther can truth take you in places of distrust and times of violence? What is a necessary lie? Is there such a thing? She also does a good job of exploring the moral ambiguities involved in "survival" versus "living". Heady stuff, I know, and her ability to slalom through this very deep terrain while keeping the characters and plot on track is just remarkable.
In fact, the story of Foxmask very much resembles its slightly fantastical setting, which the author based loosely on the modern-day Faroe Islands. Located between Norway and Iceland, the Faroes make the Orkneys look like the Azores. (A little bit of geography humor for you there. Go look them up on the map, I'll wait. Get it now? Ok, moving on). Settled in roughly the same era as the Orkneys by the Norwegian Vikings, the Faroes are a hard-luck place for hard-luck people just looking to have a little place to live and pass on. Not much is known about this islands before the coming of Irish monks, as whatever natives might've been living there did not have any written history. If there was a movie to compare this story and location to, it'd be the western Purgatory. Same bleakness of location, similar hard-luck stories. It makes a fantastic backdrop to the ever-shifting story and larger-than-life questions and archetypes that the author uses.
So when I said I would prefer a little dodginess to an outright train wreck, I might've been wrong. I have to say that both of these books put you between the proverbial rock and hard place, making you really question yourself and your moral code. As my husband used to say, ethical questions are really the only ones worth debating; all else is a foregone conclusion. My hat's off to Ms. Marillier; I must be her most emphatically reluctant fan.
Wow, now what do I read? All else seems a little... pale in comparison. Maybe it's back to the magazine rack for a few nights, and give my brain some time to cool off.
*- This is totally fiction.
**- This is utter and totally made-up crap. Though it'd be awesome for an author to say that to me. Maybe something for the bucket list....
"Dear Ms. Mitsch,
I am writing this letter to let you know that I am so glad to hear you are such a fan of my work. I have seen the review you wrote for Wolfskin, and I felt somewhat sorry for the emotional state it left you in. Had I known that it was such a challenge to read such an obvious plotline, I'd have changed it right from the start! Instead, I hope you continue on to read Foxmask, my sequel to Wolfskin. I wrote it especially for you!** Please let me know how you fare with it. All my best, Juliet Marillier."
It's so nice to be thought of! Especially in advanced retrospect, or is it retroactively proactive? Anywho, it took me a week (and a lot of nailbiting and late nights), but I finished Foxmask by Juliet Marillier. Clearly, she heard my plea last week for a more mysterious storyline; I got just that. Maybe I should have been a little quieter in my demands. Had I known what was to be delivered, I'd have cheered my good luck in getting the openess of Wolfskin. Instead, this week, Ms. Marillier handed me a piece of cotton gauze, bid me to bind my eyes lightly, and put me in the passenger seat of her convertible. I was to instruct her turning of the wheel as we drove down Route 1, hugging California's Pacific coastline on a foggy winter's morning. Dear God, what horrific rush!
Whereas Wolfskin made an obvious statement of story arc in the very beginning of the book, Foxmask was almost the complete opposite. The book is set almost two decades after the end of Wolfskin, dealing with the children of Eyvind and Somerled. Eyvind's daughter, Creidhe, is the picture of domestic arts and goodwife practicality. Thorvald, child of Margaret and Somerled, is an outsider in his community, more due to his own moodiness and self-centered nature than anything else. As the story opens, Margaret tells him the truth of his parentage, sending his world into tumult. Being eighteen, impetuous, and full of himself, Thorvald decides to go on a little expedition, just to see if his father is still alive. That's about the only clue the author gives as to where this ride is going to take us.
Much like the rocky and pinwheeling nature of California's coast, this plot moves quickly in one direction, then another, and back again. You can only get the barest glimpse of what's ahead of you, hardly enough to formulate where the road is leading at any given time. Once again (or maybe as usual?), the author tackles some big philosophical questions. Can a person change their nature? How fixed are our personalities, given the genetic inheritance and the environmental pressures? How much farther can truth take you in places of distrust and times of violence? What is a necessary lie? Is there such a thing? She also does a good job of exploring the moral ambiguities involved in "survival" versus "living". Heady stuff, I know, and her ability to slalom through this very deep terrain while keeping the characters and plot on track is just remarkable.
In fact, the story of Foxmask very much resembles its slightly fantastical setting, which the author based loosely on the modern-day Faroe Islands. Located between Norway and Iceland, the Faroes make the Orkneys look like the Azores. (A little bit of geography humor for you there. Go look them up on the map, I'll wait. Get it now? Ok, moving on). Settled in roughly the same era as the Orkneys by the Norwegian Vikings, the Faroes are a hard-luck place for hard-luck people just looking to have a little place to live and pass on. Not much is known about this islands before the coming of Irish monks, as whatever natives might've been living there did not have any written history. If there was a movie to compare this story and location to, it'd be the western Purgatory. Same bleakness of location, similar hard-luck stories. It makes a fantastic backdrop to the ever-shifting story and larger-than-life questions and archetypes that the author uses.
So when I said I would prefer a little dodginess to an outright train wreck, I might've been wrong. I have to say that both of these books put you between the proverbial rock and hard place, making you really question yourself and your moral code. As my husband used to say, ethical questions are really the only ones worth debating; all else is a foregone conclusion. My hat's off to Ms. Marillier; I must be her most emphatically reluctant fan.
Wow, now what do I read? All else seems a little... pale in comparison. Maybe it's back to the magazine rack for a few nights, and give my brain some time to cool off.
*- This is totally fiction.
**- This is utter and totally made-up crap. Though it'd be awesome for an author to say that to me. Maybe something for the bucket list....
Sunday, January 29, 2012
A Trip to the Light Isles- Why the Vikings are less than trustworthy....
More often than not, the types of books I enjoy have an air of mystery or suspense to them. You're never altogether sure which direction the author's going to take. I love that; I love that building of anticipation that comes from not knowing where the story is going. Oh sure, I might be able to make an educated guess as to how the plotline is going to fall out, or what kind of character development is going to happen, but overall I like being along for the ride.
In fact, usually when I can see the layout of a story, I lose interest rapidly. However, this time was very different. In the first twenty pages or so of Wolfskin, by Juliet Marillier, the author sets out the entire premise of her story; I won't lie, it's like seeing a train wreck before it happens. And the author gives you the choice: read on, and see how it plays out in real time, or set the book aside and find something a little tamer. I'll admit, I did debate for a day or so. Can I put myself through this psycho-drama? Can I handle what's coming?
After getting my crash gear on, I dove back into the book with vigor, and pushed through it. Don't get me wrong, it's not some badly written piece of literature that you have to work at to finish. It is altogether sublime in its development of characters and building of tension. Instead of a usual back country winding road that I usually drive, I've signed up to swim across Lake Champlain. The challenge is seemingly obvious, but the far shore is still hidden by fog. All I have to rely on is the author's elusive offer for a good ending. I had to hope that would be enough.
Opening this story with an old Norse legend of two men who swear to each other a bond of blood brotherhood, the author sets the stage for an intense emotional rollercoaster. The two main characters, Eyvind and Somerled, are a study in contrast. From the time they met as boys on the cusp of manhood, both cling to the other, seeing a perfect compliment and companion. They, too, swear a bond, one that is based on faith, meant to last an eternity. Both have large dreams and the dedication to bring those dreams to life. Sadly, the dreams of one will make a living nightmare for the other.
The author uses these two characters to explore a complex framework- the permanence we associate with promises and vows versus the constant change inherent to life itself. In a time when certainty is necessary to maintain any semblance of civilization, making vows or giving one's word acts as a cornerstone to the functioning of society. The fabric of trust needed in keeping a community together and thriving is based on that concept. But the old axiom still applies- people change. It is a universal law that we change over time; none of us are the same from one year to the next, because the experiences we have alter us and our perceptions of the world around us. So how can you have both? Is it even possible to make a deep vow to someone and be able to keep it over the years? What if the vow is made in error of judgment? How do you come to grips with trying to keep a promise, knowing that the other party is not worthy of the loyalty?
The setting for this is one of my favorite spots in the world- the Orkney Islands off the coast of northern Scotland. From the time of the Neanderthals, the smalls islands of the Orkneys have had many waves of inhabitants. The author uses the backdrop of the late 8th century-early 10th century on the Isles, and she cleverly gives a plausible story for the settlement of the Vikings and the reaction of the inhabitants (mostly of Pictish decent). I've seen Maes Howe, Skara Brae, and the Stones of Stenness, all of which are featured in some form in the story. I think the author did an excellent job of describing the geography, as well breathing life into what is mostly conjecture on the culture and society of the Orkneys during this period of history.
Despite my trepidation at the outset, I have to say this story evolved in an amazing fashion. If you have any interest in Viking culture or the Orkney Islands, this is a very good read. Or if perhaps you like that feeling of seeing the challenge at the outset and like a good train wreck, this is might be a book for you as well. I might still hesitate a little when this author makes an offer like this in another story, but at least I know I'll be in for a good time before the crash and burn.
In fact, usually when I can see the layout of a story, I lose interest rapidly. However, this time was very different. In the first twenty pages or so of Wolfskin, by Juliet Marillier, the author sets out the entire premise of her story; I won't lie, it's like seeing a train wreck before it happens. And the author gives you the choice: read on, and see how it plays out in real time, or set the book aside and find something a little tamer. I'll admit, I did debate for a day or so. Can I put myself through this psycho-drama? Can I handle what's coming?
After getting my crash gear on, I dove back into the book with vigor, and pushed through it. Don't get me wrong, it's not some badly written piece of literature that you have to work at to finish. It is altogether sublime in its development of characters and building of tension. Instead of a usual back country winding road that I usually drive, I've signed up to swim across Lake Champlain. The challenge is seemingly obvious, but the far shore is still hidden by fog. All I have to rely on is the author's elusive offer for a good ending. I had to hope that would be enough.
Opening this story with an old Norse legend of two men who swear to each other a bond of blood brotherhood, the author sets the stage for an intense emotional rollercoaster. The two main characters, Eyvind and Somerled, are a study in contrast. From the time they met as boys on the cusp of manhood, both cling to the other, seeing a perfect compliment and companion. They, too, swear a bond, one that is based on faith, meant to last an eternity. Both have large dreams and the dedication to bring those dreams to life. Sadly, the dreams of one will make a living nightmare for the other.
The author uses these two characters to explore a complex framework- the permanence we associate with promises and vows versus the constant change inherent to life itself. In a time when certainty is necessary to maintain any semblance of civilization, making vows or giving one's word acts as a cornerstone to the functioning of society. The fabric of trust needed in keeping a community together and thriving is based on that concept. But the old axiom still applies- people change. It is a universal law that we change over time; none of us are the same from one year to the next, because the experiences we have alter us and our perceptions of the world around us. So how can you have both? Is it even possible to make a deep vow to someone and be able to keep it over the years? What if the vow is made in error of judgment? How do you come to grips with trying to keep a promise, knowing that the other party is not worthy of the loyalty?
The setting for this is one of my favorite spots in the world- the Orkney Islands off the coast of northern Scotland. From the time of the Neanderthals, the smalls islands of the Orkneys have had many waves of inhabitants. The author uses the backdrop of the late 8th century-early 10th century on the Isles, and she cleverly gives a plausible story for the settlement of the Vikings and the reaction of the inhabitants (mostly of Pictish decent). I've seen Maes Howe, Skara Brae, and the Stones of Stenness, all of which are featured in some form in the story. I think the author did an excellent job of describing the geography, as well breathing life into what is mostly conjecture on the culture and society of the Orkneys during this period of history.
Despite my trepidation at the outset, I have to say this story evolved in an amazing fashion. If you have any interest in Viking culture or the Orkney Islands, this is a very good read. Or if perhaps you like that feeling of seeing the challenge at the outset and like a good train wreck, this is might be a book for you as well. I might still hesitate a little when this author makes an offer like this in another story, but at least I know I'll be in for a good time before the crash and burn.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Mini-Update: Look what I found!
Out of boredom with Iron Chef, I started surfing around on GoodReads. Since joining the site back in 2007, I've never really looked around. For that, I am a moron. I would update my bookshelves, and maybe look at the shelves of friends, keep updated on what they've read ad maybe add it to my own lists. Again, I am a bit of a moron for not looking around sooner.
Did you know GoodReads sponsors giveaways? I feel like just about everyone but me must've noticed this. I've often wondered how a book that was not yet published could already have reviews. This is one of the ways; you enter a giveaway, and if you win, you get an advanced copy of the book. You don't have to write a review, but if you do, GoodReads will use it to promote the book and/or author in question. So all I have to do to get free new books is enter my name and address in a giveaway for the books I choose? Yep, I am so regretting not finding this sooner!
Guess what I'll be doing until 2am?.......
Did you know GoodReads sponsors giveaways? I feel like just about everyone but me must've noticed this. I've often wondered how a book that was not yet published could already have reviews. This is one of the ways; you enter a giveaway, and if you win, you get an advanced copy of the book. You don't have to write a review, but if you do, GoodReads will use it to promote the book and/or author in question. So all I have to do to get free new books is enter my name and address in a giveaway for the books I choose? Yep, I am so regretting not finding this sooner!
Guess what I'll be doing until 2am?.......
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