Tagged with review

book review: facing the bridge

I enjoy the length of Yoko Tawada’s stories. Like the other books of hers I’ve read, Facing the Bridge is a collection of three longish short stories, like 60 pages each. It’s an oddish length, which works because they’re oddish stories. The perfect kinds of things to sit down with on an afternoon and read.

In this book the three stories are about a Japanese exchange student in Germany and the first African to get a PhD in philosophy (back in the 1700s). The two parts to the story blurred into each other at the edges. There were no breaks between talking about Amo (the Ghanian) and Tamao (the Japanese student). The second story is about a Japanese tourist who goes to Vietnam. This was my favourite in the book because of her talking about what a tourist’s role is as she buys coconuts and goes to see temples. And there are these wonderful non sequiturs about fearing becoming pregnant. The last story is about translating and living in the Canary Islands. It was the weirdest of the three (though all were plenty odd).

There’s just so much in Tawada’s odd characters and their not entirely rational decisions they make that I find very attractive, in an intriguing kind of way.

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book review: ilustrado

Ilustrado, Miguel Syjuco’s first novel, is about a writer who’s died and his protege is looking for the dead man’s missing manuscript. I haven’t read anything from the “literary fiction” genre for a while and it’s pretty much how I remember it, though Syjuco distinguishes it by it being about the Philippines. Otherwise it’s about a young man coming to terms with his past both in New York and in the Philippines.

It does the chopped-up narrative kind of thing, with the story of the young writer, Miguel, being interspersed with excerpts from the old dead writer’s works, including his schlocky detective stories and self-published autobiography and classic works. If you’ve read this kind of fiction before it won’t be too confusing, though for some reason in these uncorrected proofs the publisher decided to fuck around with the fonts for each different voice. It didn’t need that and I hope the final version loses it.

In general it was an okay book. Nothing horrible, but nothing really exciting or ground-breaking. There were a few pages near the end that talk about writing that are really good. And I like the epilogue quite a bit, though it feels like a first novel in its self-consciousness.

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book review: slackonomics

Lisa Chamberlain’s Slackonomics is a book about Generation X and how they live differently than the boomers before them. The thing that makes it different from all the books on the subject from 10-15 years ago is that this one is looking at these GenXers all grown up and in charge of things instead of being the youngsters whose apathy would prove to be the death of civilization.

The subtitle of the book is “Generation X in the Age of Creative Destruction,” referring to the economic bubble collapses we’ve been undergoing in the last ten years (dotcom, subprime mortgages). These collapses are different from previous downturns because they aren’t cyclical but systemic. Or something. The thesis is that though Gen X grew up with the greed motivation of the 80s they also saw how the 90s recession could fuck that all up. They’ve seen terrifying highs and dizzying lows and now they’re 40 and are the people who’ll get us through, past the boomers’ “me me me” motivations.

It was an interesting book, especially when Sean’s been talking about his Helmet Generation stuff recently. As I see it, my immediate cohort we’re sort of the cusp between the Gen Xers and the Helmeteers, and I think I feel more affinity for the Xes.

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book review: radical simplicity

Dan Price wrote this book about living in a meadow. The book is called Radical Simplicity: Creating an Authentic Life and it was probably the wrong thing for me to be reading while packing up my apartment to move. I would like to live in a meadow, in a kind of hobbit house like Price has done.

The most interesting part of his experiments in housing (he had a tipi and a shack and a dugout cave with a skylight at various times) for me is how he wasn’t cut off from everyone. He had the place wired for electricity. Not gobs of outlets or anything but he had a line built in so he could run his photocopier which he used to make his zines. I like the idea of not being completely isolated from the world. His wife and kids lived in town and would come visit him and he would visit them. He said that when the kids were little he would keep on hoping they’d want to stay in the meadow. They didn’t. He and his wife were separated.

So yeah, I’m looking forward to living in a room in Reyn’s house for a few months. Just to get rid of the extra crap. I’m not going to be thinking about the condo corp and can just get things done. One of those things will be a paring down of the extra books in storage and the other cruft I’ve been accumulating. I hope that doesn’t sound like dipshit new-age hippie horsewank. I just feel like making some choices, for good or ill.

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book review: china mountain zhang

I think I learned about China Mountain Zhang (by Maureen F. McHugh) from Jo Walton’s Tor.com book reviews. I can’t remember what the review said, only that it sounded like something I would like. I finally got a copy last week, and man was that impression ever right.

The main story is about a gay construction worker named after Sun Yat-Sen (or in putonghua: Zhong Shan) in the future. This is a future where America had its proletariat revolution to try and follow China’s example after the early 21st Century Second Depression. Zhang’s story alternates with stories from other perspectives, including a goat farmer on Mars, a New York kite racer, and a girl with a rebuilt face. Zhang’s story takes him from Brooklyn to Baffin Island to Nanjing and back. There’s interconnection with the other perspectives but not so much it feels like a puzzlebox story. The whole book is the kind of thing science fiction should hope to be.

I had quibbles with the number of typos in the pinyin, but no qualms with the story. My favourite chapter was about the frustrations of Daoist Engineering. I’m sending a copy to Holly next week.

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book review: desolation road

Ian McDonald’s Desolation Road is so goddamned good. It’s the story of a town on Mars (though it’s not called Mars but Ares) out in the middle of the desert. We read about the town being formed by one person stumbling upon an oasis and then welcoming the stragglers who show up on the train. It’s sort of like a western, with that whole trains to the frontier aspect.

The thing about the book that makes it so great is how it feels more like a Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Salman Rushdie book than Kim Stanley Robinson. The characters have that kind of magicalness to them, that storybooklandish kind of feel. One of the town’s early residents is Persis Tatterdemalion who crashes her plane there and won’t leave unless she can fly out. There are angels and intelligent trains and a ghost that unravels a murder and identical triplets who love the same woman and war and saints and robots and strikes and the Greatest Snooker Player the Universe has Ever Known and a man who makes people bleed with his sarcasm.

Probably my favourite book I’ve read so far this year.

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book review: the battle for china’s past

I don’t read a lot of nonfiction, which apparently makes me an atypical male (seriously: I’ve been reading a bunch of things about making YA libraries guy-friendly and all these books and articles talk about how “guys don’t like fiction” and how “the only people who read fiction are women”). But! I read a nonfiction book. Woo testosterone! The book I read was by Mobo Gao, a professor of Chinese Studies in Australia and it’s called The Battle for China’s Past: Mao and the Cultural Revolution.

Mobo Gao’s thing is to reexamine the Cultural Revolution and see if it was really as bad as we think it was. And when I say “we think it was” I mean, the we in the West, and the we that is the Chinese urban elite. Because the West misunderstands China. We always do. We basically suck at figuring out what’s going on over there. We tend to think that China still venerates Mao just because his picture’s up watching Tian An Men square. But the book points out that official policy over the last thirty years has been to degrade Mao’s actual political message. The CCP says, “The Cultural Revolution was a lost decade. Nothing good came of it.” Because if the CCP doesn’t devalue Mao’s message, all of the capitalism with Chinese characteristics that’s been going on since he died would create so much cognitive dissonance it might be unbearable to anyone paying any political attention at all. It makes way more sense to say “Mao created China, which is great! Then he got crazy, which is bad.”

The books that tend to get translated into English are ones written by the elite. The people who were in college, or whose parents were middle class folk. Mobo Gao devotes a chapter to Jung Chang’s Mao: The Unknown Story and how it is shoddy scholarship bent to a neoconservative worldview. This was at first surprising for me. Neocon? But I really liked that book! It was the Mao Blows Goats book that told us what an incompetent asshole Mao really was. Mobo Gao’s thing is that aside from the lack of scholarly rigour that allowed her to mislead the reader, this is a book from the perspective of one of the elites that Mao was fighting against his whole life.

See, Mobo Gao believes in the communist revolution, that it’s a good thing for the peasants not to be ignored, for the educated elites to go off to the countryside and learn to work with their hands and all that stuff that Jung Chang fucking hated in Wild Swans. He discusses how in the past 25 years since the collective system was disbanded in the countryside life for the rural poor has gone downhill. China is developing, but it is doing it on the backs of the peasants. He talks about the poor farmers and how they look back to the days of Mao as the good old days. He points to how post-Mao history has gone and says this was exactly what the Cultural Revolution was trying to prevent. All of those “Capitalist Roaders” Mao demonized did take over once he was out of the way, and they did take China away from Communist lines.

This is what made the book great. I went in prepared to argue my ass off with the book. I read it with a pencil in hand to write snide remarks in the margins. I did get to write a bunch; Mobo Gao really downplays the Great Leap Forward idiocy, and he engages in a lot more hagiography than I’m really comfortable with. There’s a bit of acknowledgement that “man, those kids went crazy” during the Cultural Revolution, but he says that wasn’t Mao’s fault; it was the people much further down the chain of command than him. I also disapprove of Gao’s belief in the virtue of strict adherence to ideology. But there was a lot of interesting stuff in there that made me think more about my privilege and how that shapes my view of the Cultural Revolution, and my identification with those upper-class victims.

And once again, it looks like Aileen is right: I’m never going to be a true revolutionary.

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book review: iron council

One of my favourite things about China Mieville’s New Crobuzon books (of which Iron Council is the third) is how the goals in them shift. The book is never the same thing at the end as it was in the beginning. It’s wonderful. Iron Council takes that a bit further than the previous ones I’ve read, by chopping the story into achronological chunks. It opens with people fleeing the city, then jumps back into it where revolution is fomenting, then back in time to see how the fleeing people’s target got somewhere, then into the city and back and forth and it all worked. The book talks about wanting to do something rather than talk about something, about history having a plan, and about love. There are anarchist artists and a whispersmith cowboy, and handlingers, and golemists who intercede and create things out of earth and air and shadow. There’s a cacotopic stain, and swamps, and grasslands, and smoke that turns to stone, and trains, always the trains.

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book review: wicked

Okay, so I’m some years behind the times (when was it that Dave and Andrea wanted to do up their front walk in emerald for Halloween?), but I just read Gregory Maguire’s Wicked. Which is what the musical was based on, not the other way around. There are no songs in the book. But it is about the Wicked Witch of the West and how she got that way.

It was a fairly fun read. There were many different points of view and interesting things happened, but it never really did what it claimed to on the back. There wasn’t any reappraisal of good and evil (I know, that seems like a big topic, but the back of the book claims that’s what this’d do). I mean, Elphaba, the wicked witch is sympathetic because she’s the main character. She’s misunderstood. All the stuff you’d expect her to be in the book about her instead of insipid little Dorothy.

I think there was room for it to be better. The last chunk of the book, which is what happens once Dorothy arrives, is very disappointing. There is no big climax. There’s the recap of a drunken discussion on the nature of evil, not even the actual discussion, just the aftermath of a dinner party in which everyone restates their opinions of what evil is. This was the thing that disappointed me most. It felt like here was the whole reason for writing the book and then it gets elided away. Then the Witch goes home and gets a bucket of water thrown on her. The End.

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book review: transition

Iain M. Banks’ latest book (I think) Transition is pretty great. It’s about a multiverse hopping assassin who’s on the run from the organization that he works for. Remember Sliders? It’s sort of like that but there’s no big portal that they jump through, the Flitters have more control over where they end up (and can go home again) and they arrive Quantum Leap-style, in someone else’s body, worn like a disguise.

But it’s more than old TV shows. The book’s really about competing philosophies of life and solipsism and the possibility of doing good in an infinite existence. There are completely self-absorbed characters and completely delusional ones and one is a torturer (from a world where militant Christians were suicide bombers in Thatcherite London, prompting a huge scale war on terror and abrogation of civil rights). There’s lots of sex and high adventure. Heartily recommended.

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