Books: Last Book You Read and Rate It

[Spring in Fialta]

Poor Folk by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1846) - Boy, the title of this piece certainly doesn't beat around the bush when it comes to it's subject matter. This is a story about two poor characters. Furiously poor. The story takes an epistolary form between two sentimental individuals, a man and a woman, who are distant relatives. This novel is interesting, as its Dostoyevsky's first and certainly feels less philosophical than his later works. Instead, this novel is far more sentimental and works as a social critique, and a highly effective one. Still, there are trademarks of Dostoyevsky present within this work, particularly the humorous passion felt by a male protagonist. It's social aspects are also presented with incredible artistic instincts. Dostoyevsky uses skillful mannerisms and body language to speak for characters who do not have the words themselves. He also has a precise mind to dwelve deeply into the sorrowful reasoning of characters as they attempt to make sense of their lot in life, while reminiscing of a happier past, a past that wasn't very joyous to begin with.

On the other hand, the novel sometimes veers close to becoming torture porn as the gradual loss of dignity of various characters becomes more pronounced (I kind of wonder if this wasn't done in a distasteful attempt at comedy by a very young Dostoyevsky) and the prose sometimes feels quite overwrought and clunky. With that said, I still enjoyed this work immensely, and the first work written in the epistolary format that I've genuinely enjoyed. I didn't even like Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther. Dostoyevsky's distinct prose is always a pleasure, and it is interesting to notice his looming influence in the works of other authors.

 

[kihei]

The Border, by Don Winslow

Don Winslow writes knowledgeably about the drug wars between Mexico and the United States. His latest book, The Border, is his magnum opus on the subject. A sweeping narrative with more characters than I could readily keep track of, the novel has several focal points. There is Keller a man with a conscience whose checkered past includes killing people as well as administrating government programmes. Then there are the bad guys, a bunch of them, all fully drawn and memorable, and the assorted victims, men, women and children who become casualties of the drug trade. Keller suspects that the Mexican cartels now have infiltrated the government in Washington since the election of President Dennison, a Donald Trump clone with no attempt by the author to disguise that fact. Specifically Keller wants to go after the President's son-in-law who is beholden to the cartels for cash and money laundering. But first a war among the cartel leaders must be resolved and a winner declared, and that means a lot of very gruesome bloodshed. It's a good read, if overlong as Winslow tries to cram everything but the kitchen sink into his narrative. His larger purpose is to demonstrate to his readers what the "war on drugs" is actually like on the ground, and he does a convincing job of it.

 

[Richard]

Hell in a Very Small Place by Bernard Fall.

One of the masters of military history, Bernard Fall, wrote "Hell in a Very Small Place" and "The Street Without Joy" which gave an entire generation of young Americans their marching orders. A close read would reveal that the challenges applicable to French experience in Vietnam would apply to the oncoming American adventure. Pure military theorists took the tactical lessons from the French disaster; the use of helicopters, the vulnerability of hedgehog firebases in low ground, the non-necessity of runways, and the need for proper supply of building materials.

However, these planners failed to note that the Vietnamese held a longer term view of the problem of their independence and unification. Several scenes from this book illustrate that fact. One memorable encounter presented in the book illustrates the determination of the Vietnamese forces to liberate their country. In this scene, Fall writes of French POW's ordered to cross a minefield littered with Vietmin casualties. The French are instructed to step on the bodies of the dead. As they march over their macabre roadway the leading Frenchman steps onto an apparently disembowel corpse- who is actually still alive! Their guards shout "Don't mind, step on him, he has done his duty for the people's army!"

Such scenes are what make this book compelling, powerful, and tragic. The incessant bickering of French generals while their men die a rotten, wet, lonely death in the mud. German Legionnaire prisoners receiving special privileges gleefully cheering while strongpoint after strongpoint falls-until, that is, another Legionnaire battalion is overwhelmed-then mournfully singing "Ich Hatten Comrade" because now this, then, is the legion. French officers playing bridge during a merciless bombardment. All these episodic dossiers of death are presented until the final, cataclysmic end of the fortress.

Dien Bien Phu is a battle which deeply affects American history. More is known with recently declassified documentation. This book still is able to show why and how America fell into the trap that was Vietnam.

Fall still manages to get it right a mere ten years or so after the battle. The story is tragic, and yet weirdly inspiring.

Highly recommended.

 

[ORRFForever]

I did feel at times throughout the book that Buffet may be a little too lost in his work , as his family life suffered as a result. His kids felt distanced from him and his wife eventually left him.

Agree.

 

[Hippasus]

Evening in the Palace of Reason: Bach meets Frederick the Great in the Age of Enlightenment 325

This was a good book in terms of providing historical context for J. S. Bach and Frederick the Great, as well as music theory in explaining Bach's work, but I had a problem with the thesis, hence the low rating. The author claims that Bach was of an earlier, mythological and religious tradition, which would include the Pythagoreans of ancient Greece. According to the author, this was not really part of the Age of Enlightenment even though the latter was the age in which he lived. The Pythagoreans of ancient Greece believed that number and form was fundamental to the universe, and that musical experience, in addition to mathematics, was a big part of their evidence. The author's contention is that the Age of Enlightenment was represented by the development of empiricism as a rejection of the mythological worldview, broadly speaking. The optimism of the Age of Enlightenment consists in the belief that the world is readily understandable through experience, the scientific method, etc., and that there are not fundamental mysteries to the universe and reality and that reality is not fundamentally mystical, which would be a mythological worldview. Additionally, at the end of the Age of Enlightenment, there was a rejection of its optimism through the ascension of Romanticism. Romanticism, which came after Bach, reaffirmed the mythological worldview, to a degree. So Bach was both of an earlier age and a proto-Romantic according to the author's thesis, and this goes a long way in terms of explaining Bach's lasting significance. However, I think that Bach could actually be said to be very much aligned with the Age of Enlightenment since rationalism is part of the latter. Rationalism is the school of thought against which empiricism was pitted, both of these schools of thought are part of the Age of Enlightenment, and I think Bach may have actually been amenable to rationalism and actually part of the Age of Enlightenment in a sense. Counterpoint, one of the most important traits of Bach's work, is formal, complex in structure, and numerical in a significant sense. This seems quite amenable to rationalism since the latter affirms the intellectual power of reason.

200: distasteful and pathetic
300: mediocre or subpar
400: average, but decent
500: very good
600: superb
700: transcendental

 

[kihei]

Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad

Charles Marlow, who frequently figures in Conrad's work, accepts a commission to journey up the Congo River to the dark foreboding interior of the African continent. On the way, he first learns about and eventually meets Kurtz, a legendary ivory trader who has become a god-like figure to the natives in the region and, quite possibly, to himself as well. There is a reason that this novel is an absolute staple of every Introduction to English Literature course on the planet. In its overheated, not infrequently feverish way, Heart of Darkness is a treasure trove of themes related to morality, ethics and personal responsibility. These days it delivers a double whammy that Marlow undoubtedly didn’t intend. The novel is a condemnation of “civilized” behaviour, a critique of the extent white civilization is willing to go to rationalize its dubious behaviour in the world. The rub is that Conrad accomplishes this in part by creating inaccurate, often nightmarishly overblown stereotypes of the indigenous African population and their values and beliefs.

The work is mesmerizing in spots, but it is a long voyage. And a long voyage for the seamen at rest on a ship in the Thames listening to Marlow talk on and on about the heart of darkness and the man that he found there—hard to believe they didn’t have something better to do than listen to this dude ramble….but I digress. It is a good thing that the novel doesn't go on longer. Conrad’s prose wears out its welcome at about a hundred pages for me, which is the length here though it seems twice as long. The passages once the spectre of Kurtz arrives on the scene are compelling, but much of the book reads like a translation from a language other than English. Conrad can be a vivid writer, but it is a hit-or-miss thing. As I believe is true of Melville sometimes, too, Conrad seems to be struggling with certain ideas that he hasn’t the words to express---with the result that there is a lot of leeway in trying to unravel those themes. Ironically if he was a more conventional writer, he might not be as frequently read—with the result that fewer English Lit teaching assistants would be employed to extrude his meaning and significance....but that wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it?

 

[Spring in Fialta]

Half of Robot Dreams by Isaac Asimov (1986) - Great so far. I did not pause the reading of this collection due to its quality, but mostly because Nabokov's Laughter in the Dark, often presented as the proto-Lolita, was screaming out to me from my bookshelf. The stories I've read so far were pretty damn good. Asimov is a writer who doesn't beat around the bush and does not appear to want to waste his time with symbolism or obscurity. What you see is what you get. The dialogue, while at times a little amateurish, tends to drive the action and be intricate in its explanations. This is a good thing, because for readers as scientifically illiterate as me, some of the themes would go over my head since this is high-brow science fiction. Asimov uses literature to delve deeply into questions of humanity and morality and how they relate to our relationship with technology. Sometimes, one could even think that Asimov was a prophet with how on point he was in regards to the issues at stake. Still, Asimov doesn't leave his reader out to dry. The stories are highly entertaining and do not pause their adventures for the sake of argument or grandstanding. And there's even a fullblown masterpiece in there, which is the titular story about a young robot who realizes that he's been dreaming when asleep and reports (with good intentions but disastrous results) his discovery to human scientists.

Favorite stories so far: Robot Dreams (masterpiece), Lost Little Robot, Breeds There a Man...?, Strikebreaker

 

[Spring in Fialta]

Dojoji by Yukio Mishima (1953) - I picked up a couple of collections from Japanese writers for 2 bucks a pop from a local bookstore while strolling around after breakfast. I'd forgotten Laughter in the Dark at work over the long weekend so I read this instead. This is relatively short play, but a highly interesting piece of work. I read a review of the work soon afterwards which provided some interesting pointers, although part of me should have gotten it right away. Thing is, Mishima appears to have been a peculiar artist with some peculiar thoughts. From what I've read, he was completely dedicated to the ides of classical Japan, and appeared to shun modernism.

Dojoji is a play about an antique dealer who has gathered five wealthy patrons for an auction, which leads off with a bid for a particularly large and beautiful wardrobe which belond to a formerly glamorous family. Without getting into details, a pretty dancer waltzes in with a piss-poor bid and scares off the potential buyer by telling them the wardrobe's sordid history. She then debates the antique dealer, attempts to buy the wardrobe and eventually locks herself in the object to potentially disastrous consequences. I found the set-up of this piece highly imaginative, and the author does a great job to keep up the suspense throughout the story, while intertwining it ideas of the worth of classical art, modernism and attempts to circumsice nature (and beauty). The work felt a little too facile lyrically by moments, but its conceptual premises, which certainly niche, were interesting to observe and follow (without the loss of entertaining story-telling). With that said, it was difficult for me not to feel that certain sentiments came across as quite vain, without much self-awareness. Still, technically, I don't have a word to say against it, as the story is told in the perfect amount of words and scenes (with the last action being quite effective) and a day later, I keep finding myself thinking about the play.

 

[He Is Knocking]

I'm always reading something and have had a lifelong interest in history.
Although not technically not history I just finished this basically what the Bible says about death and the eternal destination of believers and non believers. Wonderful read!
An honest look into the eternal state of bliss for believers and the eternal separation and destruction of non-believers. Almost all questions are answered in this easy to read compelling book. Erwin Lutzer has a number of superb books and is on you tube as well.

 

[Spring in Fialta]

I'm always reading something and have had a lifelong interest in history.
Although not technically not history I just finished this basically what the Bible says about death and the eternal destination of believers and non believers. Wonderful read!
An honest look into the eternal state of bliss for believers and the eternal separation and destruction of non-believers. Almost all questions are answered in this easy to read compelling book. Erwin Lutzer has a number of superb books and is on you tube as well.

I'm convinced. I'm hauling my ass to church first thing Sunday morning. The dog's coming too. He could use the lord in his life.

 

[Finlandia WOAT]

The Three Body Problem: 2/5

[sequel] The Dark Forest: 3.5/5

Note: You can just skip Three Body Problem and read The Dark Forest, so long as you know this spoiler:

Spoiler

Aliens are coming to kill us all. They'll get here in 400 years, give or take. They've used quantum technology to lock our science by using supercomputers the size of protons to fudge the scientific results of the hydrogen colliders.

[half of] The Naked and the Dead: 4/5

The other side of the Band of Brothers coin. Band of Brothers: camaraderie, belief in American exceptionalism, the good v. evil of their cause, etc. Naked and Dead: a basket of deplorables trying to not get killed in a situation emphatically out of their control with not much care for one another.

 

[Spring in Fialta]

Laughter in the Dark by Vladimir Nabokov (1932) - In what world do people relate this book to Lolita? The resemblence in story and themes are thinly superficial, because outside of the fact that the story revolves around an older man and a younger woman (or child, in the case of Lolita), there's really nothing at all to connect these two books. Anyways.

This is probably the most straight-forward of his works that I've read, even in contrast to his debut novel, Mary. As compared to the more complex asthetical choices in his later works, Laughter in the Dark is a very conventional novel. Not that it's a bad thing at all, because the book was very good, albeit a little too sensationalist at times. Certain plot developments/resolutions also felt a little too convenient as well (this is a general gripe that I have with Nabokov's stories in general. For all their intricate plots, Nabokov never hesitates to have incredibly useful coincidences appear at the exact right moment for the practicality of his story which can be contrived). Still though, his humorously cruel touch is consistently on display here, thanks to two well-crafted antagonists, Margot Peters (the protagonist's mistress) and Axel Rex (her former and final lover), a particularly nasty piece of work who takes life and its people as one big joke, and who doesn't hesitate to use them (or their environment) for his own amusement. The story, despite its pulpy plot, is also very fun to follow although perhaps lacks a certain sultry quality that could have helped match its creativity, mostly due to Nabokov getting a little caught up in his own literacy. A very fun and entertaining read though, and Nabokov, when on, was close to unrivaled when it came to tasteful descriptive details.

 

[Hippasus]

Journey through Genius: the great theorems of mathematics 500

The final two chapters, on Cantor, are especially thought-provoking since they concern the infinite and foundations of mathematics. This book is intermediate-level and teaches mathematics by way of providing historical context to a list of key proofs. My book rating key is above on this page.

 

[Spring in Fialta]

Journey to the End of the Night by Louis-Ferdinand Céline (1932) - Fitting title for such a work. I hadn't read Celine since Conversations with Professor Y, which I didn't care for, but am now curious to read again. Celine's legendary debut novel is epic in scope, although I'm not certain that the payoff was consistent. As I said in the other book thread, at his best, Celine is a genius. In his worst moments, he's a disheartening, juvenile rambler and caricaturist who's prose style lags and becomes grating. Still, the positives far outweighs the negatives in this book. For one, Celine, as a stylist, is on a similar level to a Cormac McCarthy or Captain Beefheart for me - the kind of artist that had never happened, happens once, and will likely never happen again (even if pound for pound, I prefer the latter two). It is not surprising that his prose style has never been an influence on later writers. His influence is completely sentimental. It's not hard to see why. Celine is inimitable and entirely himself. And for any francophone who may stumble upon this thread, it's worth a look to check out his interviews, because it gives off the impression that Celine didn't have to look very far for his distinct sense of style. He wrote - with a little more restraint - the exact same way he spoke: a mixture of slang and highly cultivated vocabulary, sometimes within a single sentence, a music-like rhythm to his speech, and all over the place. For this reason, I'd be interested to read an English translation of his works. I'd imagine retaining the spirit and cadence of his writing to be an extremely difficult task, and I assume that translations of his works restrain the chaotic quality of his writing. Or at least, that's what reading english translations of his quotes seems to indicate.

With that said, it's hard to imagine a more explosive statement for a debut novel. Celine is relentless. It's 180,000 words of the author flogging himself and the entire world along with it. Thankfully - and beautifully - Celine sprinkles his epic with sublime moments of dark humour and even the odd yearning for bliss and humanity. These passages are some of the best I have ever read, and contrast perfectly with the misery of the book, allowing it a certain charm and without driving the reader to suicide. For example, how can one not have tears of laughter reading Celine coming close to death on his way to Africa, simply because he looks strange? Vive la France! Or what to say of Leon Robinson, Celine's foil, who is somehow even more incompetent than he is? Or La Mère Hendrouille, a demented grandma who humorously foils an attempt on her life, and is subsequently rejuvenated with a yearning for it (before, of course, meeting her demise at the hands of the rascals around her)? There are many comic scenes peppered throughout the book, illuminated by such vibrant characters. And it's funny, because for a book that spends most of its time ranting against life, the book is filled with it, and it bestows an ironic quality upon the book that I'm not sure Celine intended and that I find highly rewarding. Still, for a cultural icon who's most remembered as an anti-semitic misanthrope, the moments that touched me the most throughout the story (or journey, really) were the one's where we see Celine prone to opening his heart, or feeling shame at the thought that he has none (which, to me, shows that there's still something there). Celine becomes close to few individuals in the book, but each are described with a tenderness that is not for show. You see it when Celine tries everything he can to save kind little Bébert, a 7 year-old child with a particular smile (and who's name was then given to one of France's most famous cats. Celine's.) But my utmost favourite, the one that single-handedly justifies Celine to me, is Celine's interaction with the General Alcide. I will attempt to translate the passage (not word-for-word, but in spirit) but to give context, the passage follows a discussion between the two where Celine stumbles upon the portrait of a little girl. An embarrassed Alcide hides the portrait away, before clumsily explaining to Celine that the girl is his niece, who he's never met before and who has no other relatives but him, and that he's working in Africa to take care of her and that he plans to work an additional 6 years before he can finally head to France and meet her. Celine is ashamed at the realization that he's not worth half as much as Alcide, particularly when Alcide endearingly asks him for medical advice's concerning his niece's bum leg. Anyways, here is the passage:

'' Obviously, Alcide was living comfortably in the sublime, and to put it simply: he rubbed shoulders with angels, that boy, and he looked like nothing at all. Almost without realizing it, he had offered to this little girl, vaguely related to him, years of torture, the annihilation of his rotten life in this torrid, monotonous jungle, without conditions, without bargaining, without any interests but that of his good heart. He offered to that far-away girl enough tenderness to rebuild the entire world, and nobody could see it. He fell asleep at once, in the candle's glow. I stood up to take a good look at his traits in the light. He slept like anybody else. He looked very ordinary. It wouldn't be so silly if there was something to distinguish the good guys from the bad. ''

A certain sadness was within me by the last pages of the book. The book truly feels like a journey, not so much because Celine travels to a bunch of places, but because the first pages and adventures seem so far away by the last one. I imagine that's what watching a child grow must be like. Part of me wants to declare Journey to the End of the Night a masterpiece, but if I'm being rigorous, I think there were a few too many passages where I wanted Celine to get on with it for that to be the case. With that said, this is a great and important book, and I don't think anyone would be left regretting cracking it open. It's an event.

 

[Nizdizzle]

Lord of Chaos - Robert Jordan, Wheel of Time (Book 6)

Been going pretty slowly through this series, but absolutely love it so far and am really excited for the eventual conclusion (partially because it is finished by Brandon Sanderson, who is one of my favourite fantasy writers). The world building is great and easy to get lost in, but the story has started to bog down with little progression a little (and I've heard this is the beginning over a very slow start in the series for the next few books).

 

[Thucydides]

Kagan, among with William Kristol , were the two to come up with “PNAC - Project for a new American Century” which called for toppling Libya, Iraq, Syria, Somalia, Iran, and Sudan. This is as close to the “deep state” as I think you can get.

Knowing this I wanted to get inside their heads, so decided to check out Kagan’s new book , The Jungle Grows Back, which is more of an essay, clocking in at 113 pages. I really expected to hate it, but found it to be extremely interesting and enlightening, especially looking at the last 20 years of American intervention in world affairs.

Whatever your stance on Russia, EU, Trump, the Iraq war, Bush, etc , I think after reading this you’ll have a deeper understanding of the world we live in today, and how we got to where we are, and more importantly , a great insight on why America acts the way it does.

You could read this in an afternoon. Highly recommend.

8.8/10

 

[Spring in Fialta]

Ask the Dust by John Fante (1939)

" Fante was my God " - Charles Bukowski

Ask the Dust, now considered an American classic, has been saved from literature's grave mostly thanks to Bukowski's furious championing of John Fante as a serious talent. The latter's influence on the former is apparent at first sight, although in the two works I've read of John Fante (1933 was a Bad Year and Ask the Dust) I've always found him more wholesome, less jaded, than Bukowski. It's not hard to see why. Bukowski's works are centered around drinking and the streets, and a character (Hank Chinaski) who willingly accepts himself as a part of them. Fante's Arturo Bandini does not. He is living i squalor, but seeks fame and fortune through his own writing. In a way, I guess one could see Bukowski's writing as a logical extension to Fante, if a composite sketch of their two characters had failed to ever have any sucesss (which the two authors did, for a long time). It is then difficult to separate Bukowski from Fante, considering that in some form or another, both owe their eventual success to the other.

Still, Ask the Dust is a fine, fine read, but not without flaws. Following Arturo Bandini's quest to be a famous writer in Los Angeles and his obsession with Camilla Lopez, a Mexican waitress who does not return his love but has no qualms with stringing him along, the novel's great strength lies in the way it doesn't take itself too seriously in its quest to be taken very seriously. I thought it kind of took a while for the novel to get going, and it's plot development and resolution can certainly feel a little too easy sometimes, but eventually the prose and characters sneak up on you, and the sense that this is a pretty special book settles in your being before you even get a chance to realize it. I thought that was a pretty neat trick, although of course, it's always difficult to gauge how intentional this is on the part of the writer. I tend to think not very much. Fante, to his credit, dedicates his prose to his story. Each sentence flows from one to the next with impeccable precision, and he does not lose himself in his words, even if the prose becomes a little sappy here and there. His metaphors become a little easy and commonplace, but there are also reflections of the highest rank, that made John Fante something of an existentialist before the word was applied to the French literary wave, but it could be easy to miss em' for Fante doesn't dwell on them and keeps his story and characters chugging along. I'd recommend Ask the Dust to any type of reader, really. Even someone who's never read a book before. It's accessible, charming and has a voice and sensibility of its own. No wonder it's so often assigned in American courses.

 

[Spring in Fialta]

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger (1951) - I asked my girlfriend to bring me an easy read while in the hospital. She brought me the old classic, which I hadn't read in a couple of years. Good thinking on her end, because The Catcher in the Rye, for anyone who's read it twice, becomes a breezy read that doesn't require too much of the reader. One becomes so familiar with the book you can read it on instinct. I don't mean this as a flaw either, because the book is good, but it's a surface level read, at least story-wise.

While it doesn't come close to Salinger's untouchable masterpiece A Perfect Day for Bananafish (quite possibly the greatest pure short story I've ever read) in terms of literary achievement, it's easy to see why this book still resonates with so many people. For one, Salinger creates a singular voice that is both touching, humorous and goes for the juggular when it comes to the supposed intelligent and sensitive man's gripes with phony society. Not that some of these gripes aren't legitimate, they are, often hilariously presented, and while I have no patience with readers who complain about the Holden Caulfield's tendency to complain, I did find myself thinking that both the character and its author should get over themselves a little bit, considering Salinger authors the work as if Caulfield is fully justified in his sentiments. That's not a very rewarding thought for the reader to have, and it made a little worse by most characters (well, mostly the teenagers) being little more than high-school caricatures. The adults and children such as Mr.Antolini and Holden's sister, Phoebe Caulfield, are written with more dimension and thus, make for more interesting characters, even if teenagers such as Robert Ackley and Stradlader play their role well, and offer solid comic relief.

And while the vocabulary is accessible, I like the way Salinger makes it distinct, even if the pacing clunks a little bit. The 40s slang and cadence to the dialogue and stream-of-consciousness writing allow Holden Caulfield a unique quality when it comes to literary protagonists, even in Salinger's own oeuvre - the Glass family in his other stories doesn't feel as distinct, for example - and it's not surprising that Holden Caulfield has become a sort of teenage icon. Still, I do think the work, at its core, lacks a little maturity despite a good base/well-guided sentiment, but as Norman Mailer once said, Salinger looks to be the brightest mind who stayed stuck in prep school. Depending on the Salinger story you're reading, that can both be applied as a negative or as a positive.

 

[Spring in Fialta]

A Scanner Darkly (1977) by Philip K. Dick - Superb. By far my favourite PKD story so far. The story centres itself around Fred/Bob Arctor, a law enforcement agent who is working undercover by living with a bunch of junkies as a way to uncover - or so it seems - a vast network related to a highly addictive drug named Substance D, to which he himself is addicted. PKD uses a fragmented narrative and multiple POV (sometimes within a single character, such as Fred/Bob Actor) which plays well into the theme of paranoia, as well as the loss of control over perception, which is constant throughout the book. PKD juggles well between writing a thriller/mystery story and exploring concepts such as drug culture, identity and death. It's also humorous by moments, as the paranoia is sometimes portrayed to be just that - paranoia due to a fried brain. Or sometimes it's just dumb stoner conversations. Still, PKD focuses more on worldly themes throughout the book, which can sometimes be a little boring, but is mostly executed to perfection.

Still, I am always impressed by the intricate worlds created by PKD in his novels, and like his other works, the world portrayed within the book is incredibly rich, including in what is not directly portrayed, but only glides within the surface of the self-sustained world created by Dick. It's then no wonder that he's such a titan in American literature, especially in science-fiction. Still, if there is a slight flaw to the work, it's the sometimes angsty way in which he writes his proses. Curse words will be placed at unfortunate intervals, creating some corny sentences that clash with the usually detached prose that dominates the book. But again, minor gripe. Fantastic novel, created by an incredibly fertile mind that was both adept at entertainment and philosophy, mixing both to great success.

 

[mariopepper]

Grace of Nation and I suppose it's 8/10

 

[Hippasus]

A Scanner Darkly (1977) by Philip K. Dick - Superb. By far my favourite PKD story so far. The story centres itself around Fred/Bob Arctor, a law enforcement agent who is working undercover by living with a bunch of junkies as a way to uncover - or so it seems - a vast network related to a highly addictive drug named Substance D, to which he himself is addicted. PKD uses a fragmented narrative and multiple POV (sometimes within a single character, such as Fred/Bob Actor) which plays well into the theme of paranoia, as well as the loss of control over perception, which is constant throughout the book. PKD juggles well between writing a thriller/mystery story and exploring concepts such as drug culture, identity and death. It's also humorous by moments, as the paranoia is sometimes portrayed to be just that - paranoia due to a fried brain. Or sometimes it's just dumb stoner conversations. Still, PKD focuses more on worldly themes throughout the book, which can sometimes be a little boring, but is mostly executed to perfection.

Still, I am always impressed by the intricate worlds created by PKD in his novels, and like his other works, the world portrayed within the book is incredibly rich, including in what is not directly portrayed, but only glides within the surface of the self-sustained world created by Dick. It's then no wonder that he's such a titan in American literature, especially in science-fiction. Still, if there is a slight flaw to the work, it's the sometimes angsty way in which he writes his proses. Curse words will be placed at unfortunate intervals, creating some corny sentences that clash with the usually detached prose that dominates the book. But again, minor gripe. Fantastic novel, created by an incredibly fertile mind that was both adept at entertainment and philosophy, mixing both to great success.

I didn't like the animated film adaptation because I thought it fed into a sort of anti-drug hysteria.

 

[Spring in Fialta]

I didn't like the animated film adaptation because I thought it fed into a sort of anti-drug hysteria.

I didn't get that from the film at all. I thought it stayed loyal the book without taking much of a stand either way at all. And while I wouldn't call the book anti-drug, I think it's a lot harsher than the movie. The author's note is pretty forceful.

 

[Spring in Fialta]

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin (1956) - The story is fairly simple. David, an American living in Paris, struggles with the idea of his homosexuality and more deeply, with ideas of love, morality and conventionality. These struggles use a particularly demanding relationship with Giovanni, an Italian living in Paris, a man with his own past and issues, as the field on which they'll do battle. I tend to agree with GB's take on this one. Baldwin crafts his sentences superbly, and the author doesn't make a single mistake on a technical level. Every sentence follows the previous one with perfect precision, and his turns of phrase are highly artistic and bestowed with resounding eloquence. This may be due to recency bias, but I struggle to think of many authors who may have Baldwin beat in that department. Maybe Antoine de Saint-Exupery's Night Flight had a bit of the same quality.

On the other hand, I think that eloquence also gives way to some overdramatic and exaggerated passages with a few tacky metaphors - although the one passage where I would have expected this the most, David and Giovanni's break-up, did not suffer from this - and Baldwin also has a bad tendency to pontificate at regular intervals, sometimes on the same sentiment or subject throughout the entirety of the story. Not to say that a lot of it wasn't interesting. It was. It just felt somewhat self-serving and distasteful. Still, the characters are written with echoing depth, even the minor ones, and their dynamics with one another are both timely, cynical and explosive, which serves to keep the story engaging and thoughtful. Their interactions suit the novel's themes very well. Giovanni's Room is a fine read, with a masterpiece of an ending, and I wouldn't be surprised if the book grows on me. I'd recommend it anyone with interest in dramatic works, and it's accessibility shouldn't pose a challenge to anyone who enjoys literature, even if it's just once in a while.

 

[Finlandia WOAT]

[First 100 pages of] Dark Places by Gillian Flynn

A 66/16/16 page distribution between the A/B/C plot causes the A plot to languidly stall on the same narrative point for the first 100 or so pages so it can climax simultaneously with the B/C plots- meaning you have 6-7 scenes that have the same narrative point: Maybe the killer didn't do it? while the B/C plots are up front and clear and don't waste my time.

And this is a cold case detective thriller, so anyone who is the least genre savy or read the blurb on the back is already aware of this fact, it shouldn't take 6-7 scenes to establish (nevermind that it shouldn't take 6-7 scenes to establish anything). It's why airport paperbacks follow the same basic structure in the 1st 30 pages: hotshot DA is assigned to an open and shut murder case, he peruses the evidence and the defendant is clearly guilty, then he looks at the evidence a little more carefully, talks to the defendant and oh crap, he's actually innocent!! But the last appeal is next Friday, so hotshot DA has to hurry and find out what really happened! That way you get to real thrilling stuff of trying to piece together the mystery quickly.

Anyway I just wanted to piece together why I couldn't read more than a couple pages of the A plot without getting bored. To be fair, this was attempted on the beach on July 4th, so distraction abound.

 

[kihei]

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

Humbert Humbert is only attracted to nymphets, a work Nabokov actually created in 1955 to describe sexually precocious pre-pubescent girls. Lolita is his story of Humbert Humbert's relationship with a 12-year-old girl who he lusts after and eventually finds a way to make his sordid dreams come true. Obviously this is a hot-button topic, but Nabokov is not interested in the least in pornography or controversy but in creating a unique character and describing in beautifully written sentences and paragraphs what it is that makes him tick. In fact, when he gets to the first major seduction scene, Nabokov simply leaves it to his audience's imagination--cleverly implicating the reader in terms of what comes next. Nabokov averts the moral implications of Humbert's behaviour almost entirely, at least until the end where the still unrepentant Humbert can nonetheless grasp the damage that he has done to Lolita's childhood, a childhood which he stole from her. The novel is basically a character study of a perverse man from his own perspective, a study that is surprisingly filled with wit, humour, word play, and outrageous puns. Near the end when Humbert takes his revenge over his nemesis Claire Quilty, the situation brings forth some of the funniest moments in the book. What makes Lolita such a treat is the brilliant way Nabokov uses language to reveal Humbert's inner world. Repellent as he is, Humbert Humbert remains one of the most fully drawn and perfectly written characters in 20th century English literature.