It always amazes when a book is populated with characters that I find annoying or distasteful, yet I'm satisfied with my reading experience by the time I finish. I like a book with colorful characters with a few flaws, but I usually would like to root for at least one of them. In The Lonely Polygamist by Brady Udell, I found myself wanting to to line up every character, every single character, and just do a running slap until I ran out of faces. Still, I don't regret a minute of the reading experience.
The novel details the life of Golden, an almost reluctant polygamist, his four wives, and 28 children. He's too meek to really be the patriarch of such a clan, so the children run wild while his wives brood over his continuous, seemingly willful absence. As the story progresses, the reader learns the secret history of the family and each member's struggle for control over their own lives in a world where little individuality is accepted.
As much as I wanted to punch literally everyone in it, the book offers an interesting view into the dynamics of a plural marriage. Imagine Big Love in novel form and you pretty much have it. Polygamy is such an exotic phenomenon, yet it exists in our own backyards. If I met a polygamist family, I would have so many questions that would probably be too rude to say out loud: What keeps it all together? How do the children get the individual attention that they need and deserve? How does the arrangement stay vital? So many questions, but no polygamists to ask.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The Magicians by Lev Grossman
There have been nights when I have stayed up late wondering, pondering, trying to fathom a world where wizards are in fact among us, Hogwarts is in upstate New York, and Harry Potter is an emo alcoholic from Brooklyn who spends way too much time reading Narnia-knock offs. Oh, the sleepless nights; oh, the endless days! But, lo, author Lev Grossman has taken up the torch and set pen to paper with this very idea, making my life that much easier.
The Magicians doesn't claim to stray from the beaten path (forged by seven Harry Potter books, lest we forget), but it has discovered a new way of walking it. Like Rowling's world, this novel gives us a loner main character, a school of magic, and plucky students who stretch their skills in the name of knowledge. They go on wonderous adventures, eventually facing the evil baddy at the end. But J. K. kept her characters on a strict diet of butterbeer and wacky hijinks, whereas Grossman's characters sloshed, hammered and pissed about 90% of the time. When they aren't off their face, they are desperately trying to make a name for themselves in a school full of backstabbing geniuses.
Perhaps the most startling difference between the two works is how disaffected the kids are after they graduate. Rowling tied up all of her loose ends in a sickeningly neat package; Grossman sets his kids in an overwhelming freedom after a very rigid boarding school experience. In a mish-mash of drinking, sex, and unemployment, these kids start tearing themselves, and each other, apart. Judging by the reactions to freedom that I saw in college, I have to believe that all of this behavior is very realistic. It's satisfying to see that even with all the magic in the world, we all are capable of the same self-distructive actions.
I truly do recommend this book, both if you've read the Harry Potter series and if it never piqued your interest. It is a mature, honest portrayal of not always likeable people in extraodinary circumstances.
The Magicians doesn't claim to stray from the beaten path (forged by seven Harry Potter books, lest we forget), but it has discovered a new way of walking it. Like Rowling's world, this novel gives us a loner main character, a school of magic, and plucky students who stretch their skills in the name of knowledge. They go on wonderous adventures, eventually facing the evil baddy at the end. But J. K. kept her characters on a strict diet of butterbeer and wacky hijinks, whereas Grossman's characters sloshed, hammered and pissed about 90% of the time. When they aren't off their face, they are desperately trying to make a name for themselves in a school full of backstabbing geniuses.
Perhaps the most startling difference between the two works is how disaffected the kids are after they graduate. Rowling tied up all of her loose ends in a sickeningly neat package; Grossman sets his kids in an overwhelming freedom after a very rigid boarding school experience. In a mish-mash of drinking, sex, and unemployment, these kids start tearing themselves, and each other, apart. Judging by the reactions to freedom that I saw in college, I have to believe that all of this behavior is very realistic. It's satisfying to see that even with all the magic in the world, we all are capable of the same self-distructive actions.
I truly do recommend this book, both if you've read the Harry Potter series and if it never piqued your interest. It is a mature, honest portrayal of not always likeable people in extraodinary circumstances.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin
(Ed. Note: #38)
If you’re reading this and you haven’t read A Game of Thrones, stop. Just stop. Before I started reading these books, I had a few things spoiled for me and I’m sad that I didn’t get the full effect of the story. Once I realized that I had to stay away from everything, I had the most amazing reading experience. I urge you to take my advice and read no further.
Are they gone? Good.
Anyway, A Clash of Kings is the second book in George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire. After the Eddard’s execution and the scattering of the Stark family, Westeros is now in the grips of civil war, a literal clash of kings. The land and smallfolk are besieged by the marauding armies of five kings—Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy, and Robert Baratheon’s brothers and son—Stannis, Renly, and Joffrey. During all of this, a sixth claimant of the crown, Daenerys Targaryen, wanders the East with her band of followers, caring for her three newborn dragons.
If you’re thinking that sounds like a tough storyline with too many names, you don’t know that half of it. There are so many side stories and characters that typing it up would do more harm than good. Like the previous book, A Clash of Kings demands to be reread several times before you can see the tapestry instead of the individual threads. Everything is connected; it just takes some concentration to figure it out.
If you’re reading this and you haven’t read A Game of Thrones, stop. Just stop. Before I started reading these books, I had a few things spoiled for me and I’m sad that I didn’t get the full effect of the story. Once I realized that I had to stay away from everything, I had the most amazing reading experience. I urge you to take my advice and read no further.
Are they gone? Good.
Anyway, A Clash of Kings is the second book in George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire. After the Eddard’s execution and the scattering of the Stark family, Westeros is now in the grips of civil war, a literal clash of kings. The land and smallfolk are besieged by the marauding armies of five kings—Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy, and Robert Baratheon’s brothers and son—Stannis, Renly, and Joffrey. During all of this, a sixth claimant of the crown, Daenerys Targaryen, wanders the East with her band of followers, caring for her three newborn dragons.
If you’re thinking that sounds like a tough storyline with too many names, you don’t know that half of it. There are so many side stories and characters that typing it up would do more harm than good. Like the previous book, A Clash of Kings demands to be reread several times before you can see the tapestry instead of the individual threads. Everything is connected; it just takes some concentration to figure it out.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin
(Ed. note: #37)
I don’t really know how I got peer-pressured into reading A Game of Thrones, the first book in the A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R. Martin. I’m not usually into fantasy novels, the exception being the Kushiel books and anything Tamora Pierce has ever written. I enjoy the historical fiction element that is present in many of these novels, but I could do without the dwarves, elves, and whatever fantastical creatures that usually populate these world. I read Lord of the Rings—no need to travel roads that are imperfect in comparison. Still, I Kindled A Game of Thrones and fell in love.
Martin is a beautiful world builder. The fictional Westeros and the surrounding lands are so grounded in reality that I can imagine them as medieval British counties, complete with a working feudal system. The geo-political and family squabbles feel drawn out of history books. And not an elf to be seen. Sure, there is a dwarf, but he’s an actual little person, not a mythical axe-bearing hairy guy.
This book’s plot is based on setting up the following books, but it is not short on action. Through different viewpoints separated by chapter, we follow the House Stark, headed by honorable Lord Eddard Stark, and its relations with the throne and House Lannister, the queen’s family. Historically speaking, the plot reminded me of King Edward VI of England and the Woodvilles. We see a once valiant and fair king run to fat and indolence while his wife’s family worms and grasps its way into higher echelons of power. Still, that’s only part of the story—and it would be cruel to ruin it by telling you more.
Martin is an interesting author in that he loves his characters, yet is utterly brutal to them. Granted, it is necessary to the plot, but he seems to enjoy lulling his readers into a sense of security with a certain character, then ripping the rug out from under the reader’s feet. It’s jarring, but it gives the book a kind of paper-turning mystery, the kind that makes you finish a gigantic novel in two days. I look forward to seeing HBO’s treatment of this book in the upcoming series, though I hardly think that it will be able to capture the heart-pounding joy of reading a well-plotted novel. Doubters, pick up this book—you won’t regret it.
I don’t really know how I got peer-pressured into reading A Game of Thrones, the first book in the A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R. Martin. I’m not usually into fantasy novels, the exception being the Kushiel books and anything Tamora Pierce has ever written. I enjoy the historical fiction element that is present in many of these novels, but I could do without the dwarves, elves, and whatever fantastical creatures that usually populate these world. I read Lord of the Rings—no need to travel roads that are imperfect in comparison. Still, I Kindled A Game of Thrones and fell in love.
Martin is a beautiful world builder. The fictional Westeros and the surrounding lands are so grounded in reality that I can imagine them as medieval British counties, complete with a working feudal system. The geo-political and family squabbles feel drawn out of history books. And not an elf to be seen. Sure, there is a dwarf, but he’s an actual little person, not a mythical axe-bearing hairy guy.
This book’s plot is based on setting up the following books, but it is not short on action. Through different viewpoints separated by chapter, we follow the House Stark, headed by honorable Lord Eddard Stark, and its relations with the throne and House Lannister, the queen’s family. Historically speaking, the plot reminded me of King Edward VI of England and the Woodvilles. We see a once valiant and fair king run to fat and indolence while his wife’s family worms and grasps its way into higher echelons of power. Still, that’s only part of the story—and it would be cruel to ruin it by telling you more.
Martin is an interesting author in that he loves his characters, yet is utterly brutal to them. Granted, it is necessary to the plot, but he seems to enjoy lulling his readers into a sense of security with a certain character, then ripping the rug out from under the reader’s feet. It’s jarring, but it gives the book a kind of paper-turning mystery, the kind that makes you finish a gigantic novel in two days. I look forward to seeing HBO’s treatment of this book in the upcoming series, though I hardly think that it will be able to capture the heart-pounding joy of reading a well-plotted novel. Doubters, pick up this book—you won’t regret it.
Friday, July 02, 2010
Your Next Door Neighbor is a Dragon by Zack Parsons
(Ed. note: #36)
You know, I’m not going to be ashamed to say that I spent quite a bit of time on the internet. The internet is interesting. There’s a whole world of knowledge and videos and interaction that could not have existed before the advent on the web. Miss a TV show? No worries, it’s on the internet! Need to do some heavy-duty research for a paper? Holy crap, here’s JSTOR! Need to look some up some quick information to settle a bet? Bam, Wikipedia! It’s a glorious thing and I’m thankful that I spent my childhood without it so that I could properly appreciate it now.
But, as every sun casts a shadow, so does the internet. Guys, the internet is weird. Thanks to the most casual of web surfing, I know what degloving is. I’ve been goatse’d more times than I can count. I’ve seen a lady break wind into a cake. I’ve been disturbed and sickened by these series of tubes, and yet, I can’t stay away. It’s an illness.
Still, I know that there are many sunshiney people out there, unjaded by repeated surprise viewings of the inner workings of a man’s colon, who are going to cheerfully jump on the internet and be summarily crushed. That’s where Zack Parsons’s Your Next Door Neighbor is a Dragon comes in. Parsons ventures where none of us truly wish to go, seeking out those who allow their freak flags to fly in the anonymity of the web. He interviews furries, voraphiles, fanfiction writers, Ron Paul fans, and so many more, creating a short encyclopedia of common internet denizens. His interviews are held together with what I hope is a fictional road trip narrative, replete with cult kidnappings and obnoxious literary agents.
Parsons isn’t a journalist, nor does he claim to be. A brief exploration of his normal writing gig, Something Awful, shows a site that usually displays a decidedly negative view of the people interviewed in this book. Parsons, however, does cast a sympathetic eye on many of his subjects, who are even more absurd in the bright light of day than they are as ones and zeros in a world-wide community. It reminded me of Jon Ronson’s Them (which I’ve plugged more than once) in that it showed the real person behind the mask.
This isn’t a book that you use to write a research paper on the sociology of the internet, but it gives the reader a good idea of what lurks beneath the web’s glossy surface. Parsons subjects himself to it so you don’t have to. Be grateful.
You know, I’m not going to be ashamed to say that I spent quite a bit of time on the internet. The internet is interesting. There’s a whole world of knowledge and videos and interaction that could not have existed before the advent on the web. Miss a TV show? No worries, it’s on the internet! Need to do some heavy-duty research for a paper? Holy crap, here’s JSTOR! Need to look some up some quick information to settle a bet? Bam, Wikipedia! It’s a glorious thing and I’m thankful that I spent my childhood without it so that I could properly appreciate it now.
But, as every sun casts a shadow, so does the internet. Guys, the internet is weird. Thanks to the most casual of web surfing, I know what degloving is. I’ve been goatse’d more times than I can count. I’ve seen a lady break wind into a cake. I’ve been disturbed and sickened by these series of tubes, and yet, I can’t stay away. It’s an illness.
Still, I know that there are many sunshiney people out there, unjaded by repeated surprise viewings of the inner workings of a man’s colon, who are going to cheerfully jump on the internet and be summarily crushed. That’s where Zack Parsons’s Your Next Door Neighbor is a Dragon comes in. Parsons ventures where none of us truly wish to go, seeking out those who allow their freak flags to fly in the anonymity of the web. He interviews furries, voraphiles, fanfiction writers, Ron Paul fans, and so many more, creating a short encyclopedia of common internet denizens. His interviews are held together with what I hope is a fictional road trip narrative, replete with cult kidnappings and obnoxious literary agents.
Parsons isn’t a journalist, nor does he claim to be. A brief exploration of his normal writing gig, Something Awful, shows a site that usually displays a decidedly negative view of the people interviewed in this book. Parsons, however, does cast a sympathetic eye on many of his subjects, who are even more absurd in the bright light of day than they are as ones and zeros in a world-wide community. It reminded me of Jon Ronson’s Them (which I’ve plugged more than once) in that it showed the real person behind the mask.
This isn’t a book that you use to write a research paper on the sociology of the internet, but it gives the reader a good idea of what lurks beneath the web’s glossy surface. Parsons subjects himself to it so you don’t have to. Be grateful.
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