Tagged with review

darwin’s bastards @ the writers festival

This morning I went to the Vancouver International Writers and Readers Festival for an event. Zsuszi Gartner was hosting three of the writers from Darwin’s Bastards. With four writers reading from their work, there wasn’t as much conversation as I might have enjoyed, but it was entertaining. The split between the bigger writers (William Gibson & Yann Martel) and the smaller writers (Adam Lewis Schroeder & Anosh Irani) was something that could have been more interesting to explore. There was a question from the audience about whether they write for an audience or think about their works as marketable items, which is a fundamentally different question when you’ve written a “big” book like Life of Pi, vs created a genre, vs are a playwright no one has ever heard of.

I think my favourite part of the panel was watching the writers listen to each other reading. Martel seemed very contemplative, inwardly focused while Gibson listened carefully and openly loved the funny bits. Also, he did his “imaginative fiction being every kind of fiction” thing which I do appreciate when people try to pigeon-hole sf. The way Irani read his story was much less flippant than the voice that was in my head, but that seriousness made the black comedy of that womb-creature even more stark. Schroeder also sang a song, in a Feist-like way. He was pretty fun, very much the dramatizer of his tale.

After the discussion I stood in line to get my copy of Darwin’s Bastards signed by the four of them. And it’s funny, but when I’ve been talking about this book to people in person, I’ve tended to tell them about the Schroeder story first. I told him that, and he seemed to appreciate it. I didn’t mention that William Gibson is the first author in the collection I mention.

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postquake

I went to see after the quake, a play based on two Haruki Murakami short stories from the collection of the same name, with a classmate yesterday. The two stories mashed together were Superfrog Saves Tokyo and Honey Pie (the latter of which is among my favourite Murakami stories). I really liked it. The production got at the internality of Murakami stories by having a narrator and letting the characters narrate themselves. So you got the impression of being told the story more than it being strictly dramatized. The stories were integrated well, with Superfrog being a story Junpei was working on. It all came together in that non-traditional structure that Murakami stories tend to have.

The portrayal of Froggy was very urbane, as Jessie noted, much moreso than you’d get from the story itself. I enjoyed how he was portrayed, introduced in green light, but merging into the narrator as it went on. Frog’s urbanity borrowed a lot from that singing and dancing Looney Tunes frog, I felt. The sets and lights were used really well, and for one small incident the music was Norwegian Wood. I smiled.

Another thing, making me realize I’m in Vancouver, is that I actually recognized actors. Frog/Narrator was played by Alessandro Juliani, the guy who was Gaeta on Battlestar Galactica. I had to look up Hiro Kanagawa to know where I recognized him from and it turns out he’s been in loads of things, including the X-Files many years ago. So that was also kind of neat.

Tomorrow I’m going to volunteer at CanZine West at the Discorder Magazine booth. Maybe go to the Antiquarian Book Fair before that. Fun fun.

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book review: leviathan

Paul Westerfeld’s young adult book Leviathan is a pretty excellent story. In all the reviews I’ve seen online they start with the history and the coolness there but I’m going to come at it a bit differently. See the story is about two main characters. One is a young prince who has to flee his palace in the middle of the night after his parents are assassinated, which will plunge the world into war. His two trusted advisors are supposed to take him high into the mountains to keep him safe until the war is over. The other main character is a girl who’s posing as a boy to get onto the kind of ship she was born to be on. After a slight misadventure she gets onto a ship but her job turns into minding the scientist they’re transporting. About halfway through the book the two stories meet up.

Taken like this, it’s a pretty decent adventure story. The girl, Deryn, is a plucky nobody who swears a lot. The prince, Alek, is learning how to get by in a world that’s changed drastically. They’re both depicted well, and the prickly counts and scientists and captains and all the supporting characters are pretty good. All of this makes for a fine, if unmemorable, book.

Now the stuff that sticks in your head is the setting. See this is all taking place in an alternate 1918. An alternate 1918 in which the Germans Austrians Prussians, all of them, have diesel-powered walking tanks. They’re known as the Clankers. Back in Britain, Charles Darwin also discovered DNA and how to manipulate it so they use bioengineered animals for everything, including their airships. The titular Leviathan is a hydrogen filled whale that people can walk around inside with gondolas strapped to its belly. Alek is the son of Archduke Ferdinand, and Deryn’s dream has always been to fly.

There are walker chases and fights. Soldiers get killed. The kids make kiddish mistakes that they beat themselves up for. There are messenger lizards which repeat what they’ve been told, and one of Leviathan’s big weapons is a flock of flechette-bats that get fed metal and then shit it out on zeppelins and such. It’s all pretty cool, if scientifically implausible.

After finishing it I was talking to a kid who wanted something good for grade 8. I hunted down the library copy I had and told him he had to read this. It’s fun how much a big cool image like “So the ship is a flying whale…” helps to sell a book. And the book is illustrated too. It feels very of its time. Plus flying jellyfish and mechanical spider-walkers. Good stuff. The only thing I disliked is how it has “first book in a series” disease, so nothing really gets resolved. It bothered me less than sometimes, because the story was good and I enjoyed the world and characters.

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book review: sanshiro

I will admit I knew nothing about Natsume Soseki’s classic Sanshiro when I bought it. I’d seen Soseki’s name at the library, but that’s about it. I bought this book, which is an early 20th century Japanese coming-of-age story, and read it because Haruki Murakami did the new introduction for the Penguin edition. It’s been a while since I’ve read a new Murakami book and I missed him. 1Q84 is probably going to take a long time to translate so I have to settle for introductions and essays and things. Or learn to read Japanese (a project which is proceeding slowly if at all).

Murakami’s draw to this book was more than just his name though. See, he has this history of preferring Western literature. In the books/essays about him that I’ve read he talked about not really caring about Japanese literature. So this introduction of a Japanese literary classic meant it must be something special. Or he’s changed his opinion in his old age. Whatever.

The book is about a young man, Sanshiro, who comes from the country to go to university in Tokyo. It’s Meiji-era Tokyo so there are streetcars and such, but people are still wearing kimonos and the trains are far from bullet-like. Sanshiro basically wanders around to his classes and falls in love with a woman and gets embroiled in his friend’s schemes. The floatingness of the protagonist did remind me of Norwegian Wood, and would have even if the comparison hadn’t been made in the introduction, I think.

It’s a good book. I enjoyed it, but it’s not the kind of thing I’m rushing off to press into everyone’s hands. Just a quiet sitting under an elm tree watching a pond kind of book.

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book review: the left hand of god

Paul Hoffman’s The Left Hand of God wasn’t really my cup of tea. It’s an alternate history (or sf) book about a boy who’s been brought up by this horrible cult to fight some unnamed Antagonists who then escapes with his (forbidden) friends out to the world. The whole thing felt like an amateurish take on Gene Wolfe’s (excellent) Book of the New Sun series.

Some of the things that annoyed me: Is it alternate history or SF? The city the three boys (and rescued girl) escape to is called Memphis and it’s unclear if this is the same Memphis that’s out in Egypt or not. There’s a desert, but the fort in York is a few days travel away. And Jesus of Nazareth was the guy who was in the belly of the whale. It feels like Hoffman was just pulling out historical names and places and slapping them down without any thought for how they’d interact. I think the Antagonists are Muslim analogues, but there are Jews that are just called Jews. It’s all very sloppy.

The Cult of the Hanged Redeemer is a cartoonishly dark take on Middle-Ages Christianity. So much so that I was sure the book was a fantasy novel. They eat gruel and get tortured and have to deal with their Original Sin and get flayed for breaking the rules. These are the ancestors of the Dan Brown Catholics. But Thomas Cale (the morally bereft thuggish anti-hero) got hit in the head as a young man and can tell what people are going to do in a fight, making him a preternatural killing machine.

Oh and he falls in love with the beautiful daughter of the Roman Empire governor analogue, but he’s so tortured and inarticulate. Oh noes. And apart from being a preternatural killer (demonstrated by his kicking the ass of the greatest fighter the Roman academy has produced in twenty years and then killing a hardened soldier who hates him in a gladiatorial duel) he’s a tactical genius and the battle in the end is lost due to other people’s incompetence and he does something heroic even though he’s so troubled.

I also hated the narrator’s voice. There’re these offhand implications that Cale will do great things and change the world, and these folksy “Oh but how could Cale know what she was thinking, the way we do?” kinds of asides that infuriated me.

And then the end of the book isn’t an ending but the point of departure for a series. A series I have no desire to read. Good thing I didn’t spend money on it. (It was a review copy from LibraryThing.)

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book review: suite francaise

Aileen told me about Irene Nemirovsky last year some time and I read one of her books. That book was not Suite Francaise, her unfinished book about civilian life in occupied France. The book was unfinished because she was sent to Auschwitz, where she was killed. But now I’ve gotten to and finished Suite Francaise and it was good.

There are two parts to the novel (out of a projected 5). The first is about people escaping from Paris as the Germans approached. The second is about life in an occupied village, where German officers are billeting with French families. They were both very good, written in a light, straightforward style that got out of the way of itself. I absolutely hated a bunch of characters for being rich and hypocritical and weak and loved some of the others for being brave understated and strong.

Aileen and I have talked in the past about how we’re a bunch of frauds, not having a huge traumatic incident of history shaping our lives. And yes, war is terrible, but there’s something to be said of the shared experience of having lived through something catastrophic as opposed to shared memories of the ThunderCats. In the abstract sense of course.

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book review: un lun dun

Un Lun Dun is China Mieville’s book for younger readers. There’s less horriffic imagery than in the New Crobuzon books and the language is much cleaned up. I brought it in for Teen Book Club but no one took it home that day. Le sigh.

The story is about two girls in London who get summoned to the magickal abcity UnLondon (and yes the idea is similar to Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere) because the one girl is the Chosen One, destined to help UnLondon fight off this terrible menace threatening blah blah blah. So things go on and along and there are untrustworthy ghost-boys and conductors of air-buses and binjas and everyone avoids the horrible flesh-eating giraffes. Great. Then, the girls find the professor who’ll make everything right again and they get to go home to London. Hooray! Everything’s wrapped up in a nice neat little package.

But we’re only a third of the way into the book.

Deeba, who was not the Chosen One, remembers UnLondon but Zanna (the Chosen One) has had her memories of the place removed because she was injured by the beast down there. The UnChosen One starts realizing that they’d actually fucked up majorly and has to find a way back to UnLondon to put things right. This is where it got awesome, because Deeba heads down without the prophecy backing her up. There are 7 steps the Chosen One was supposed to follow to find the weapon that would deal with blah blah blah but she says “We don’t have time to get each of these 7 things let’s just hit the last one; it’ll be the most important right?” Which is the kind of thing you’d expect someone real to do, someone not bound by “how things work in these kinds of stories.” I loved it.

So yes, Un Lun Dun. Good stuff.

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book review: matter

Matter is one of Iain M. Banks’ Culture novels. So it’s a far-future adventure full of interesting post-humanity and alien ways of living. There’s a group of people living in a gunpowder/artillery tech society on the 8th level of a Shellworld, and they’re at war with the similar folk on the 9th level. Now this Shellworld is maintained by aliens as habitats for these cultures. The aliens aren’t supposed to interfere technologically or what have you. Basically because it wouldn’t be very polite. But our viewpoint characters are three siblings from this primitive culture and their king/father has been assassinated to dastardly ends. One of these characters left long ago and is now a posthuman member of the Culture. One sibling is trying to get a hold of her to get her help, while the last is the prince-regent who’s oblivious to the fact that his regent is the guy who killed his king.

It’s a good adventure tale (and the ending is satisfyingly abrupt for someone like me who gets a little bored of action sequences in books) but the theme of the different layers of significance is what makes it compelling for me. Everything is insignificant at some level, but that doesn’t mean you don’t do anything. It seems like an important thing to remember sometimes.

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book review: let me in

Let Me In by John Ajvide Lindqvist is pretty freakin’ great. It’s a vampire novel… no wait, don’t stop reading. It’s not emo-vampire crap like Twilight or “Vampires are just like regular people but sexy” like True Blood. It’s about a cursed monster and is suitably horrible.

Let Me In is about a vampire that moves into a suburb of Stockholm in 1981. The vampire appears to be a twelve year old girl and she has a guy who appears to be her father who goes out and harvests blood for her (which is tricky because the victim needs to be alive as it’s getting bled out). He’s also a pedophile who’s being manipulated by the vampire’s knowledge of his lusts. The main protagonist is a 12-year-old boy who is their neighbour. He gets bullied and wets himself and dreams of being able to kill his persecutors. There’s also an assortment of drunks who’re trying to figure out what’s going on after one of their friends disappears. They’re like the completely inept and unsuitable Van Helsing squad, in that they behave the way a bunch of losers would.

This (Swedish) book was turned into a (Swedish) movie, Let The Right One In, which is supposed to be scary and great and is how the book came to my attention. They’re also doing an American remake of the movie (called Let Me In) which pleases me not a lot.

I’d hoped to be able to recommend this as an antidote to teens who say they like vampire novels because they read Stephenie Meyer or Darren Shan, but all the pedophilia and graphic disfigurement probably makes it way inappropriate. It’s too bad though because the vampire is suitably monstrous. It reminds you there’s a downside to the whole eternal life deal. Plus there’s some good ol’ redemptive violence to make you feel good at the end.

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book review: the dust of 100 dogs

In my super-secret job I’m never allowed to mention for reasons of national security I find myself in the position to recommend books sometimes. The Dust of 100 Dogs by A.S. King is one of these books that made its way across my workspace (can’t tell you if I have a desk or not, as that is a secret) and struck me as interesting. It’s the story of an Irish pirate and her reincarnation as a person in the late twentieth century after being cursed to spend 100 lifetimes as a dog. The cool thing is that Saffron (her 1990 self) retains all the memories of being 100 different dogs and of being Emer the badass pirate. And the great part of Emer’s memories include knowing where her last greatest treasure was buried. So yeah. Awesome.

There were several things that made this book better than the standard YA fare. First: I loved that it was set very specifically in 1990 for the “modern” parts. It made even that feel historical and obviated the need for today’s GPS and communication technology. In general I’m in favour of fiction being set in a specific year instead of “the present,” so there’re my biases.

Second, Saffron’s family is fucked up and [SPOILERS] they remain so right through the end of the book. There’s no redemption of the grasping mother who wants to live through her daughter’s success instead of doing something herself. Her father is a drug addict Vietnam vet and her brother steals from crippled people and burns down their home. You completely see why Saffron would want to go make a life for herself, memories of 300 years rattling around inside her head or not.

The sex in it is not what you might expect from a YA book too. It’s not all Gossip Girled up, there’re a couple of scenes of Emer (the pirate) getting raped and the villain spends a lot of time masturbating while watching the beach and telling the voices in his head how he’s not gay. So yeah, there’s that.

In all, what I liked about it was how it didn’t feel written to a YA formula. And in the back of the copy I read there’s an interview with the author and she says that she didn’t realize it was a YA book until her agent sold it as such. That makes sense to me. It makes it a bit weirder and out of place maybe, but a teen book I have no problem recommending.

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