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| 4.34
| 716,407
| Jul 12, 2011
| Jul 12, 2011
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Tyrion Lannister's horse was rubbing him raw as they rode onward, the branches of the trees above them swaying in a branch-like way. Ravens flew about
Tyrion Lannister's horse was rubbing him raw as they rode onward, the branches of the trees above them swaying in a branch-like way. Ravens flew about among them, and clouds of dust hovered like halos around the hooves of their steeds. Wiping sweat from his brow, Tyrion spoke to yet another minor character you've never seen before. "I hear that the Morvin and the Shornpel clans have sided with Darvus Farier from the great city of Bee Eff Eee, and are pushing forward late king Baratheon's bastard's scullery maid's uncle's melanoma as the true heir to the throne." The minor character chortled as he spooned up some of the newt egg soup. It had been spiced with cloves and the lightest touch of pepper, and leaves of cilantro floated like corpses upon its surface. Eating a side of braised elk spleen and a hunk of bread with a cheese sauce, the minor character said, "If so, even more of the action is likely to shift away from the viewpoint characters, and THEN we'll see whether any of the characters from the first volume even make it to the final book, A Trample of Turtles." "But," Tyrion pondered aloud, eating inch-long prawns from a trencher filled with a hot butter sauce, "If the Starks send nine hundred of their men from the outer borders of ThatoneplaceImentionedOnce, and they move down toward the Lannister forces on Dragon's Fjord before the Lannister forces can unite with the Great Army of the Unwashed Men, perhaps they can defeat the bunjillion soldiers in the south now being ushered in the general direction of King's Landing by that one other guy. I can't remember his name. You know, the one?" The minor character shrugged, tearing a piece from his bread bowl and dipping it into a small puddle of balsamic vinegar. "You forget about the people beyond the wall, and the dragons in the east, and Bobbert, King Robert's mechanic. He now claims to have been conceived with the king's own cum, and thus has a claim to the throne." Tyrion scratched his chin. "That does throw a new light on how convoluted things are becoming." They continued riding, their horses traveling gradually. More branches passed overhead. It felt as if the traveling had gone on indefinitely, and the audience was more than capable of empathizing. Tyrion munched on fresh radishes and drank a bold red wine from a skin hanging from his belt. The wine was rich, with plum flavorings and an oaky aftertaste. "But," said Tyrion, suggesting another possible set of things that could happen. He made reference to an event that happened nine-hundred pages ago, but remembered it wrong, then postulated what the possible outcome could be. They rode onward. Minor Character munched on some pine nuts. SUDDENLY, SOMETHING EPIC WAS ABOUT TO HAPPEN! Chapter 2 Eudaknow An Eudongivafuck, minor noble from Shelbyville, rubbed his temple, filled with anxiety at being introduced as a new viewpoint character 9,600 pages into the series. How would he live up to the amazing characters who had come before him and died so tragically? Perhaps because he had a valid claim to the throne, Having been the barista in King Robert's favorite coffeehouse. Yeah, that was the ticket. Riding his steed/ship across the desert/glenn/ocean/alley, he traveled gradually, wondering when he would arrive. Discussing with the others upon the ship, he theorized about possible outcomes of the conflicts in Westeros, all the while eating a succulent pomegranate, red juices running down his chin like he'd just been chewing on afterbirth. SUDDENLY, SOMETHING AMAZING WAS ABOUT TO HAPPEN! Chapter 3 The titties tittied, jiggling with much breastful bosomliness. The oiled girls with Brazilian waxes down below wrestled and licked each other's areolas, but it was only to help you become immersed in a realistic depiction of the ancient world. As the breasts bosomed with titful abandon, Tyrion ate shark flank. It had been buttered, cooked for twenty minutes at 345 degrees, then drizzled with a lemon sauce and allowed to cool for five minutes. The flavor was only mildly fishy, and Tyrion burped, taking another drink of the white zinfandel before digging into the raspberry crepes with a chocolate fondu. "But still, Measter, you must understand the possibilities of that event rely on Stannis placing all of his trust in the moody lords of the upper northwest. They are known for being fickle and not holding to their oaths, and Stannis is more likely to try and seize the Port of Skulls. Will the king's ninth bastard even survive that battle? If so, at what cost to Stannis? Plus, what happens if the Lannisters and the Starks team up, and get Batman to join them, and Stannis can only get Iron Man? What then?" Measter laughed at the dwarf. "That may be, dwarf. You might be short and a dwarf, but you have a mind as sharp as a blade. But you are very tiny, in case that had escaped anyone's notice. Even so, if Stannis enlists Dumbledore, Gandalf and Belgarion, he will be more than a match for the team-up of Lannister, Batman and Stark. Even if they get Rocky Balboa and Wesley Willis on their side." Tyrion watched the boobs. "But what about Joshua Lyman? Because he could totally take Dumbledore, and maybe Iron Man." Tyrion ate a lamb gyro, thinking back to the exciting thing that happened after the last chapter ended, thinking of it in an ambiguous and incomplete way. Since it had been 100 pages since his last chapter, you had entirely forgotten what the exciting thing at the end of the chapter was anyway, so it was not much of a loss. "Well," he said, "Now that all of the titties have jiggled sufficiently, we must needs be back on the road." They rode their steeds along a road, hooves raising up halos of dust, the ravens flittering about in the branches and saying what words they had picked up from the conversation. "Death!" "Dumbledore!" "Titties!" The half-man, who was short and a dwarf, wiped the sweat from his brow. SUDDENLY. . . ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jul 07, 2012
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Aug 16, 2012
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Jul 07, 2012
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Kindle Edition
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| 0439023483
| 9780439023481
| 0439023483
| 4.34
| 9,355,051
| Sep 14, 2008
| Oct 14, 2008
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really liked it
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I like these books. The third was my favorite. That's my review of the book. What I'm really here to talk about is the movie, and this is going to have I like these books. The third was my favorite. That's my review of the book. What I'm really here to talk about is the movie, and this is going to have spoilers like you wouldn't believe. Just warning you. We just returned from watching the Hunger Games movie, and the experience was deeply disturbing. It should be disturbing, of course: we watched a movie about teenagers being forced to kill one another for the entertainment of a wealthy, lucky few. So, it's not disturbing that the movie itself was disturbing. What was REALLY disturbing, though, was the audience. As one teenager beat another one to death--a large male beating a small female--the audience burst into cheers because the girl was essentially a badguy. The girl was, at most, 13 or 14. The actress looked the appropriate age. The cheering didn't even stop when her small body was dropped into the grass and the camera focused in on her lifeless face. We're sitting in a huge theater, watching a film where 24 children are required to fight to the death against one another. There is a mild amount of romance mixed in with all of the carnage, and the kiss between Peeta and Katniss was enough to get a large part of the audience whistling and squeeling with delight. It was like they were watching an entirely different movie from the one Joy and I were watching. I remember reading some reviews of the book pointing out how many reviews focused entirely on the half-assed romance story, ENTIRELY MISSING THE POINT OF THE SERIES. It wasn't until seeing the audience reaction to the film that this really sunk in. Are these people entirely oblivious that THEY are the audience to the Hunger Games? Do they really not recognize the Capital is a slightly exaggerated version of us wealthy first-worlders? Granted, we don't take two tributes from each district. We tend to attack people outright, police their countries, and then replace their political structures with something more to our liking. But, a rose by any other name smells just as sweet. The book attempted to challenge our expectations, and the movie tried to as well. The violence constantly felt WRONG. Each death gave me the same queasy, emotional feeling I get when I watch The Lord of the Flies. Instead of casting the teenagers with a bunch of attractive twenty-somethings, they actually chose children, most of whom did not look ready for combat. They made a point of showing you children who were dead, but not giving you the twisted satisfaction of drawn-out and exciting fight scenes. This movie had much more brutality than action. And the scene with Cato breaking down at the end was almost perfect, although his death was more drawn out and difficult to stomach in the book. But it doesn't matter what Suzanne Collins writes, or what the director directs, if the audience is oblivious to anything challenging their world views. I suppose if you're looking hard enough for an 'action' movie, you can find one in The Hunger Games. And if you only care about which boy Katniss ends up with in the end, you might totally miss the fact that YOU'RE THE FUCKING CAPITAL, and BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO THE CAPITAL. We've decided to just rent the Hunger Games movies from here on out, because they're troubling enough without having to deal with the audience as well. ...more |
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Jan 03, 2012
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not set
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Jan 03, 2012
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Hardcover
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| 0763622591
| 9780763622596
| 0763622591
| 3.55
| 66,398
| Sep 23, 2002
| Feb 23, 2004
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really liked it
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You could be eating Taco Bell tacos right now! In fact, there's a Taco Bell nearby calling your name! [image] Just think of that taste as the steaming b You could be eating Taco Bell tacos right now! In fact, there's a Taco Bell nearby calling your name! [image] Just think of that taste as the steaming beef-like substance hits your tongue, with Taco Bell's savory blend of spices all ready to give you MOUTHGASM! With a side of those cinnamon twists, and a big, plastic quart of a dark, sugary substance, you're ready to have a tasty tasty meal! And you've earned it! Perhaps you should consider buying some when you finish reading this review! Because this review is about what life would be like it we had internet access in our head. Awesome? NO. It would totally suck. Nearly as much as the Dirt Devil In-Ground Ultra-Sucker, which temporarily has a $50 mail-in rebate, as long as you ACT NOW. It sucks for a variety of reasons. . . for one, how would you feel if, while you were trying to talk to someone and he was looking you straight in the eyes, you started getting the sneaking suspicion he was watching Archer? Or you thought he might be on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ, tinkering around with some new review? And this made you start wondering how well your last review was doing RE: votes, and before you could think twice about it you were on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ, checking your updates? And then your conversation trails off because he really IS watching Archer, and now you're posting a status update b/c you've read another 20 pages in a book--BUT WAIT! There aren't books! Nobody reads anymore! So it's an internet without Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ! More about that after these messages. [image][image][image][image][image][image] And we're back! I guess the most annoying part of the whole internet-in-the-head thing would be the constant barrage of advertisements. I mean, when you can't control when you have to endure an advertisement, can't turn it off, can't change the channels, because the advertisement is literally in your head....I mean, WTF? But RE: this book, it's a well-done mix of young adult literature and dystopia that manages a techno-teen speak that works and is more funny than annoying. This is quite impressive, although not as impressive as the taste of Bacardi, which helps you become skinny and slutty, i.e. hot. [image] Anderson does amazingly well at making you actually feel for the main character, considering he--along with almost every other character--is even more wrapped up in consumerism than we are. I know, right? Happiness is an idea communicated by advertisements, and identity is created by which of these happinesses you choose to pursue. Are you the Bacardi ho? Are you the dude in the field of flowers tossing his kid up in the air? Are you walking down the beach and sliding a diamond ring on a finger? Who are you? The main character falls for a girl who doesn't seem as...well, distractible and materialistic as the other people he knows. This is a big turn-on, although not as much as a pair of Air Max 90 Infrareds. You don't have a pair yet? They're the dopest of the dope. These shoes are so hot, girls literally make out with them. [image] So, he's attracted to the way she seems so strangely thoughtful and reflective. But, it's a dystopia, so blah blah blah, it goes to shit. There's a lot of absolutely hilarious parts of this book, most of them in the first half. Things then get real. RE: funny things, though, 1. Everyone has lesions on their skin because of pollution. They're so common that they are usually ignored, until it comes into fashion to get artificially created, ornamental ones. 2. They go to the moon one day because they're bored. 3. They go to a farm. A filet mignon farm, with big pulsating walls of beef all around them. And they go through a beef maze. I laughed until I cried. That said, I shall conclude. This conclusion is brought to you by Chevron, the environmental fossil fuel company. We're working toward a progressive energy future, and sustainable resource practices. And those terms really do mean something. My conclusion is that IT'S NOT TOO LATE FOR US. We still have the chance to be creative, innovative, and make choices for ourselves. And if we don't use these abilities, we may end up losing them. So, lets all go out and express our individuality by finding products that help us define who we are as individuals. Maybe then, then, we will be free. ...more |
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1
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not set
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not set
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Mar 20, 2011
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Paperback
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| 1563899809
| 9781563899805
| 1563899809
| 4.08
| 117,735
| Jan 02, 2003
| Jan 02, 2003
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liked it
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In typical comic book male-centric fashion, this series wonders what life would be like if all men died spontaneously...except for one. I suppose if w In typical comic book male-centric fashion, this series wonders what life would be like if all men died spontaneously...except for one. I suppose if we're trying to put ourselves in the head of an early-nineties comic book reading teen, this might feel innovative. Unfortunately, I find that innovative in the world of comics is pretty much Iron Age for the rest of literature. How does Vaughan manage to make a series with gender issues at its center so bizarrely sexist? Example: In a world where all men are dead except for one, and the death of that one man will mean the end of humanity, VIOLENT CULTS OF FEMINISTS SPRING UP TO TRY AND HUNT DOWN MEN AND MALE SYMPATHIZERS. What is the motive here? There sure isn't one written into the plot, other than the one speech about social inequality between the sexes--and how the only way to escape this inequality is to KILL ALL MEN. Characterwise, I was exceptionally not impressed. Even the main character has vague motivations. As for the women, pretty much none of them function as anything but placeholders: the token love interest, the sister who has gone astray, the protective mother. IN A WORLD WHERE ONLY ONE MAN SURVIVED...apparently the world still revolves around that man. And here's where the cultural rant starts... This is a symptom of thinking that is still prevalent in most of popular culture, although not to as great an extent in literature. F'rinstance, lets talk about movies: movies are a great medium for making political statements. Statements about social injustices, such as the way that women are objectified, sexualized, expected to live up to some bleached, shaved, makeup-smeared, surgically modified yet waifishly thin ideal that has been developed over centuries of patriarchal society...and how this objectification upon women is psychologically damaging--to men. [image] This poor guy above has been so mentally warped by Hollywood and advertising that he's incapable of developing a physical attraction to any of the normal girls he knows in real life. Let's take a moment to pitty him. Okay, we done? Good. Fortunately, a blonde porn star moves in next door, and immediately falls for him, even though he's intensely dorky, because, you know, it's what's on the inside that counts. But, I'm not just cherry-picking films here. I could point to this one: [image] Another example of an attractive woman with a *cough cough* career who ends up with a loser whose only redeeming trait is that he's willing to "raise" the baby...if sleazy frat boys without jobs can be said to raise babies. But surely this is a phenomenon in teen comedies? Well, look at "romances." [image] Here's a fairly recent romantic comedy where a successful, relatively well-balanced woman who is portrayed as HORRIBLY DESPARATE for being interested in a neighbor....meanwhile, the character played by Gerard Butler mudwrestles with models on television, and has no interest in anything but one-night stands, yet this is understandable because of his childhood. This is a ROMANCE. End rant. Okay, BUT, regardless of how inadequately this comic deals with gender issues, it at least TRIES to grapple with them, and it does a better job than any of the movies mentioned above. Perhaps by the end of the series, the author's portrayals of gender issues will become more interesting and sophisticated. This was an entertaining comic, and I plan on continuing it for at least a little longer...but I'll admit that I'm highly confused by the acclaim it has gotten. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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not set
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Nov 28, 2010
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Paperback
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| 0967686563
| 9780967686561
| 0967686563
| 4.24
| 89,169
| Mar 26, 1830
| 2013
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did not like it
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Somehow I'm not surprised Orson Scott Card and Stephanie Meyer don't recognize an uninspired sequel when they see one. ++++++ That's my one-sentence re Somehow I'm not surprised Orson Scott Card and Stephanie Meyer don't recognize an uninspired sequel when they see one. ++++++ That's my one-sentence review. And it came to pass that we had a talk with the neighborhood Mormons today, and they bestowed upon us the Book of Mormon. And it came to pass that we are slowly making our way through it, checking to make sure we haven't too hastily judged it. And it came to pass that, so far, god seems like every bit as cruel of a dictator as he ever did in parts I and II. I'm going to do a real review later, but for now, know that, as long as you feel IN YOUR HEART god wants you to break into someone's house, steal his/her Sacred Tablets, and then cut his/her head off, it's okay. Don't know about you, but that's a load off my mind. +++++++ Honestly, I'm glad that on that day several weeks ago, the Mormons stopped by. It's a good thing they came over and talked to us about their religion. They think stupid things, preciousss. . . They believe Jesus came to Americas and talked to the Indians. . . Yes, but they were very nice. The Mormonses want to sell you their religion. They think your atheism isn't good enough. Yes, but from their point of view, my life is missing something. They can't help feeling that way, just like I can't help feeling like their lives are missing something. They think I'm missing god. I think they're missing sanity. They think womanses can't preach, and they mock them by saying it's separate but equal. It's bullshit, precioussss. They think good people gets lighter skin, and dark people are being punished. Since the Latter Day Saints formed, they've changed their positions on just about everything, even though god's will should be a permanent thing. Nobody can provide any archeological evidence supporting any of their claims about ancient cities, golden tablets, or even the cultures that existed at the time their book was supposed to have been written. The Book of Mormon has people riding horses at a time when horses weren't in the U.S., has people using steel when nobody knew how to forge it, had people using compasses before they were invented. It's a fat turd of badly written lies and plagiarised Bible passages. . . preciousss. Yes, there's all of that. But then, if we hadn't met them, Joy and I wouldn't have sat around discussing spirituality that one Sunday. ///flashback/// (Joy and Michael sit on the couch, holding hands, eyes closed.) Joy: Dear father, uhhh...the Mormons convinced us to try praying to you, to see if we feel your presence or anything...thank you for sending the Mormons by, and....for giving us each other, and also our dog, Athena....Thanks for our jobs, and food, and the television, and whatever else I'm leaving out. I don't understand why you're male. And why, assuming you authored the Book of Mormon, you left out mrs. god. They say there's a holy mother, but in order to protect her, god hasn't spoken of her. That doesn't make any sense, and we think they're just making shit up. Anyway, We said we'd ask some questions, so here they are: are the Mormons telling us the truth? And do you exist? And are you a male? Okay. That's it. Amen. Michael: Amen. *Later* Michael: When I try to communicate with a greater presence, I sometimes feel a little something. But, when I picture Jesus on a cross, or Joseph Smith translating tablets, I don't feel anything. I just don't see any reason we have to give it a name, give it a sex, give it a personality, whatever. Joy: See, I spent the first sixteen years of my life praying and trying to feel something. It's not like I haven't "given god a chance," so I don't even know why we're going through this. We're just humoring them. Michael: You know, maybe there IS a god, and he IS selective about who gets to go to happyland. But, maybe he's put all of these earthly ideas of god here to serve as golden calves, and only those who use the abilities they've been given--their rational thought, and an adherence to a true morality--only those people will get into happyland. Maybe that's what it is. *Later Still* Joy: We should start going back to that Unitarian Universalist service. If we have a kid, we won't want her to grow up without any understanding of what religion is. We should be upfront with her-- Michael: Or him-- Joy: --about being atheists ourselves, but I don't want her-- Michael: Or him-- Joy: --to be forced into anything like I was as a kid. Michael: Yeah, we should start going back. That one church we went to that one time had all sorts of volunteering. We can go protest the 1070 bill and get arrested! ///flashforward/// After talking to them, we started thinking about spirituality again, and we've both been feeling a little better about existence since then. But it's bullshit, preciousss. The book is half "And so it came to pass," and one third "exceedingly," and the other third tripe. But, Evil Half, that comes out to-- Shut up about my maths. Well, the book sucks. It really does. But, despite all of the negativity between its covers, the people who follow the tradition still seem to be very nice people. And only good came from the two meetings we had with our Mormons. They haven't given up on you yet. When they do, they'll eat your sooooouuuuuuuuulllll... Shut up, Evil Michael. Leave now and never come back. ///ungracious segue into the final part of the review/// Greatest hits from The B.O.M.: 3 Nephi 7:8 And thus six years had not passed away since the more part of the people had turned from their righteousness, like the dog to his vomit, or like the sow to her wallowing in the mire. 2 Nephi 9:33 Wo unto the uncircumcised of heart, for a knowledge of their iniquities shall smite them at the last day. 2 Nephi 14:1 And in that day, seven women shall take hold of one man, saying: We will eat our own bread, and wear our own apparel; only let us be called by thy name to take away our reproach. And, finally, my very favorite: 1 Nephi 18:2 Now I, Nephi, did not work the timbers after the manner which was learned by men, neither did I build the ship after the manner of men; but I did build it after the manner which the Lord had shown unto me; wherefore, it was not after the manner of men. The word of god. He's a poet. ...more |
Notes are private!
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Aug 07, 2010
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Sep 05, 2010
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Aug 07, 2010
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Paperback
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| B00BG7FJFC
| 4.01
| 278,607
| Apr 22, 2003
| Mar 30, 2004
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liked it
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So, you go to Wal-Mart to buy your groceries because it's so damn cheap, but then you realize Wal-Mart is hiring very few full-time employees and not
So, you go to Wal-Mart to buy your groceries because it's so damn cheap, but then you realize Wal-Mart is hiring very few full-time employees and not offering reasonable health care to its employees and it's walking employees through the process of how to get Medicare, not to mention they're closing down small businesses by exploiting foreign economies to get the lowest possible fucking cost; so, Wal-Mart's making YOU pay medical benefits for ITS employees, and replacing good jobs with shitty ones, and you don't want to support that, not to mention most of their food comes from the big corporations that have copyrighted their grains and are in the process of pushing small farms out of business by suing them for copyright infringement after their seeds blow onto the smaller farmer's land, so you decide to shop somewhere else, and isn't it time to go organic anyway, so you drive over to Trader Joe's and load up your cart, that feeling of guilt finally subsiding. So you get home and you unload your reusable bags and load up the fridge and then, as you slide a boxed pizza into the freezer, you see, printed across the bottom, "Made in Italy." So now, you're shopping for your groceries at a different store from where you do the rest of your shopping, adding to your carbon footprint, not to mention they're transporting your pizzas across half the fucking earth before they land on your shelf. So, you may not be selling out your next door neighbor, but now you're shitting a big one right on Mother Earth's face. You head down to the local farmer's market and buy some little pygmy apples the size of clementines, and they're all weird colors but they're from some local farm, and you buy some locally made bread and buy some. . . wait, what is this? Red Bull? Doritos? All of a sudden you realize only the fruit here is local, and some of the bread, so you find another farmer across town you can buy beef from, and another farmer who you can get pork from, and now you're buying all locally, and driving all over God's red desert to get everything you need, and spending twice what you did at Wal-Mart, and spending half your saturday collecting food. Now, you're contributing to the local economy and not giving money to the giant food corporations that are trying to push small farms out of business. . . but you're still driving all over to buy the shit, and burning through petroleum like a motherfucker. Face it: when it comes to the continuity of life on this planet, you are a pest. You're the renegade cell, eating away at all of the nice and friendly cells around you. I know I'm not telling you anything new right now: you've seen The Matrix, you've heard about overpopulation, global warming, oil spills and you know how totally, absolutely fucked polar bears are right now, but it's always been like that ever since you were born, and we keep coming up with new sciences, so inevitably something will come up to save the day, right? We'll take some polar bear DNA and store it, and once we're all caught up with Jurassic Park technologies, we'll bring 'em back. And, by the time we get to there, we'll be able to stop raising cows; we can just raise steaks: little flat cows that don't have brains, don't have needs other than maybe watering them and spooning nutrients into their slack mouths, and sea-urchin-like chicken creatures without any minds that we can make into chicken fingers, and none of them will feel a thing, so there won't be any question, ethically speaking, right? Right? Don't hit me up with your "playing God" argument, because that's bullshit. We "play God" when we amputate a gangrenous leg, when we remove a tumor, when we brush our fucking teeth. So, what is really wrong with growing steaks in soil, and not raising cows in huge concentration camps where they hang out in their own shit all day? What's wrong with doing away with coffins, and simply mulching our loved ones? They're going in the dirt either way. If we're being utilitarian, is our urchin-chicken happier or less happy than our chicken in a lightless pen with ridiculous pecs so oversized his legs are broken? What about the chicken who has gone mad and is now pecking other chickens to death? Probably urchin-chicken. I'm just saying. That said, I wouldn't eat urchin-chicken, if I wanted to go out on a limb and say a company would be required to even TELL me the product I was buying was urchin: "Warning: this product is made from something that tastes like, but isn't, a chicken." They don't tell me when my steaks are cloned, or through what fucked up chemical reactions they've made my food, so I have my doubts. What's wrong with growing a mindless food animal, much the way we grow corn or rice or soy? What's wrong with growing mindless clones of ourselves, just for the purpose of harvesting their organs? This would be an easier question to answer if I wasn't an atheist, and I could quote an instruction book, but I can't. I have to answer the question, and I'll give an answer that Atwood kinda-does-but-doesn't: we don't know what will happen. We didn't know sea walls would increase erosion in other parts of the river when we first started building them. We didn't know that lighthouses would kill tons and tons of birds because birds fly toward the light. We didn't know that carbon emissions could be a problem until we'd flooded tons of them off into the atmosphere. So, why shouldn't we use science to make the world cater to our every desire and impulse? Because we can't even predict the weather. *** Oh, you want me to talk about the book? Yeah, I guess I could do that. As you can tell by my meta-review, this one gets the gears in your head turning. But, the characters were all flat and, although full of potential, ended up dull. The post-apocalyptic world we're reading about is intriguing, as are the new creatures that have replaced humans. The bizarre, freakish animals created by science are also perfectly horrific. That said, some of this feels like a pretty big stretch. According to Atwood, we'll eventually be desensitized enough that we'll enjoy watching people tortured to death online, and we'll also like watching little children having sex with grown men. And I'm not talking about in a "2 girls 1 cup," watch-it-once-because-it-sounds-fucked-up way. . I mean, she imagines people will sit around watching this shit all the time. Perhaps I'm a prude, but I don't think either of these will ever become popular with more than a small audience. My cynicism only goes so far, I guess. Far as dystopias go, this is an interesting and unusual one. It's also an entertaining and quick read. I wish Atwood would've invested a bit more time in filling out these characters, and given us a five-star book instead. . . but nobody bats 100%. I'm looking forward to trying some of her non-science fictiony works soon. ...more |
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Jul 22, 2010
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Jul 28, 2010
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Jul 22, 2010
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Paperback
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| 0839824270
| 9780839824275
| 0839824270
| 4.05
| 59,511
| Jun 1970
| Mar 1979
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it was ok
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Roger, No, it would be no problem at all! I'd be happy to respond to the first draft of your new fantasy novel. Lets start with the good: I enjoyed you Roger, No, it would be no problem at all! I'd be happy to respond to the first draft of your new fantasy novel. Lets start with the good: I enjoyed your method of immersing the reader in your fantasy world. The protagonist's case of amnesia makes it so he must learn all the same things the reader needs to know. Protagonist Corwin regains his memory gradually, creating a sense of mystery throughout the first hundred pages that is quite entertaining. Then. . . well, you lost me. I mean, it's so esoteric. SHADOW REALMS, one for every combination of things that could be. Nine princes who can travel at will between these Shadow Realms. But there's really only ONE REAL WORLD, the world of Amber, of which all the other worlds are shadows. All of these princes want to be the king of Amber, and they struggle against each other for the throne . . . Well, one issue I have is that I'm not sure why I should side with Corwin. I'm not entirely convinced he's the "good guy." It's sort of like voting for Zeus instead of Hera. They're all egomaniacal wackjobs. And then you tell us, most of the way through the novel, each one of these brothers could technically make their own perfect reproduction of the original world of Amber, and ALL be kings of identical territories, AND COMPLETELY BYPASS ALL OF THIS FIGHTING TO THE DEATH?! So WHY. The FUCK. Should your reader care? As Tim Gunn would say, "This part has me worried." Before attempting to get this published, I HIGHLY recommend reconsidering how omnipotent this set-up will make your protagonist. At the very least, don't point out to your reader how ludicrous this whole war is. Another big issue I had was with your voice in this novel. I mean, sometimes you're all "If thou will help me to smote down ye evyl brother Eric, your noble brother Corwin shall be beholden to you." Then, a scene later, you're all, "I snuck out of the prison because I'm just that good. Dig? Solid." Are we casual? Are we not casual? Let's just decide. Either could work, but both don't. Also, you should know my interest tapered off drastically at the exact moment when things should've started getting exciting. The actual battle over Amber seemed . . . well, dull. First off, it's narrated kind of like an eight-year-old would narrate an action figure battle: "seven of the big furry red guys were killed. Three of their soldiers died. Seventy of the goodguys got blown off the snowy mountain. I stabbed some guy in the neck." You start a hell of a lot of sentences with "I did this." I was distracted by this. I could not visualize much of anything. I was tempted to skim. I'm sure this is your rough draft, despite the artificially yellowed pages and cool imitation 70's cover, mostly because of the excessive typos. My personal favorite: "the doors of good food." Did you mean Odors? I think so. I would fix that, and also doublecheck your punctuation. Commas seem like an unpredictable force in this book, happening sporadically and without logic. So, as I tell all my writing students, allways proofread. By the way, I loved the ironic quip on the front about "Hugo and Nebula Winning." After a few more drafts, that may become a reality, but remember my mantra: revise, revise, revise! ...more |
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Jun 28, 2010
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Jul 02, 2010
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Jun 28, 2010
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Hardcover
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| 1597801585
| 9781597801584
| 1597801585
| 3.75
| 76,795
| Sep 2009
| Jan 01, 2009
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really liked it
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Try to picture a world where big corporations own the rights to the food we eat, and engineer it specifically so that the seeds can't be reused. Pictu
Try to picture a world where big corporations own the rights to the food we eat, and engineer it specifically so that the seeds can't be reused. Picture a world where the natural resources are steadily depleting, but everyone is still trying to act as if nothing is wrong. Picture a world where technology is barely managing to address the problems of the moment, and perhaps won't be able to keep up in the face of unexpected catastrophes. That wasn't too hard now, was it? The best science fiction is a mirror reflecting our own image, but distorted and exaggerated. This can be done in a way that is overly preachy, but Bacigalupi avoids this, combining everything I look for in entertaining science fiction with everything I hope for in thoughtful literature. (Well, I knew I was going to end up gushing.) So here's the problem. I don't know how to review a book that I love. Talk about me instead of the book? I was reading this book during my time back in Indiana, totally overwhelmed by being around my family and my wife's family all the time, trapped in the backseats of cars, forced to listen to country music, which is even worse than I remembered it. "God is great, beer is good, people are crazy." "Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses." I spent evenings at the kitchen table, trying to read while my wife's parents watched FOX News nearby, and I noticed how the top story on every program was the President's worse and worse poll numbers. I couldn't help thinking that had nothing to do with news, and all of the real stories were ignored in favor of political posturing. Being back in the Bible belt, I dipped into this book like it was a breath of fresh air whenever I could sneak away, relieved to feel like I wasn't alone in a world full of the willfully misinformed. Or should I actually discuss the book? The Windup Girl is a novel about Thailand in the 22nd century, when global warming and resource depletion has led to the only practical energy source being manually wound springs. To wind these gigantic springs, they have these huge elephant things (picture those elephants from "The Return of the King") called megadonts. Anderson Lake works for a megacorporation called AgriGen. Hock Seng is an immigrant who works as a secretary for Anderson, and who is good at manipulating events to his own benefit. Emiko is a wind-up girl: a Japanese-designed human with a predisposition for serving "real" humans, and with a strange way of walking that immediately betrays her non-humanness. There are more characters, but I'm done listing them. The characters' lives interweave as they try to succeed in a brutal Bangkok, where political uprisings aren't uncommon, food is scarce, and disease is rampant. Like all my favorite SF and fantasy writers, Bacigalupi's characters are neither good nor bad: they linger somewhere in between, and are all surprisingly fleshed out for such a brief book. Disasters abound, tragedy strikes suddenly, the world changes, people die. . . IT'S AWESOME! Should I go meta? THE PRESIDENT DIDN'T GO TO CHURCH THIS SUNDAY WHAT WAS LADY GAGA WEARING DROPPING POLE NUMBERS SEVEN MEN SHOT IN FRONT OF AN APARTMENT BUILDING HOUSE BURNED DOWN WITH TWO CHILDREN INSIDE THE SPORTS TEAM COACH DIED LAST NIGHT (oil continues to pour into the gulf, political analysts are running news organizations) KFC NEW DOUBLE DOWN BURGER IS SUPER TASTY REMEMBER TO DO CARDIO THREE TIMES A WEEK 8 GLASSES OF WATER A DAY DIET SHAKE MUSCLE MILK IT'S SOCIALISM IT'S RACISM IT'S SOCIALISM IT'S RACISM IT'S (the bee population continues decreasing, we don’t know why, but increased use of pesticides and habitat destruction continue increasing) CHINA SAYS SOMETHING MEAN ABOUT THE U.S. IRAN THREATENS THE U.S. 12 AL QA'IDA MEMBERS CAUGHT SARAH PALIN SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT OIL AT A RALLY ($704 Billion spent in Iraq war, $300 billion on Afghanistan war, the terrorist threat appears unchanged) HOW TRASHY DID BRITNEY LOOK TODAY Maybe I should drop names and lit terms to overwhelm the reader with my intellect, and detract from the shallow argument I'm making? The Windup Girl is perhaps the most well-known example of biopunk, a genre spawned from a combination of cyberpunk's world view and ecological concerns. This book won the Nebula Award for Best Novel this year, beating down Cherie Priest's zombie steampunk tale, Boneshaker, and some other worthy contenders. Some say Bacigalupi's style is reminiscent of William Gibson and Ian McDonald, and I wouldn't argue against this. But, like Saturn's Children--Even Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" or Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye--the issue of identity, and the results of being viewed as "other," are a central theme within the novel. No. That's a lame way to do the review. I don't know how to review The Windup Girl. So, if you like science fiction at all, I'll just say: read this and love it. Or maybe you won't. But if you don't, your tastes are WRONG, because IT is AWESOME. I already have his new book, Shipbreaker, at home on my shelf, and I'm excited to see if his first young adult novel is as good as this one. If so, I may have to add Bacigalupi to favorite authors. I can't wait to find out. . . ...more |
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Jun 14, 2010
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Jun 28, 2010
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Jun 14, 2010
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Paperback
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| 0061120057
| 9780061120053
| 0061120057
| 3.81
| 11,930
| Sep 1981
| Oct 17, 2006
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it was ok
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This book astounded me. Not in a good way. I expected to like "Little, Big" quite a bit from what I'd heard about it. But, like the Drinkwater house,
This book astounded me. Not in a good way. I expected to like "Little, Big" quite a bit from what I'd heard about it. But, like the Drinkwater house, it looks smaller on the outside than it feels from inside. Not in a good way. I mean the book feels like it's a thousand pages. Some people like it, as you can tell by other reviews: the language is often quite clever, it ends on a semi-strong note, and it plays with myth in some interesting ways. These are all good things. Bad things? Well, the characters aren't compelling, the clever language is often stilted and ponderously slow, and almost nothing happens. On top of that, the fantastical aspects of this book were never surprising or especially interesting. When it comes to the characters, we run through four generations in about 600 pages. This gives us slightly more than a hundred pages per generation to get to know the characters, and Crowley clearly needs more pages than that to make them interesting. Only in the last of the four generations did I like any of them (Auberon and Sylvie). Before that, the motives of the characters were sketchy at best, and it didn't feel like any of the characters were DOING anything; they were waiting for something to happen. As a reader, I was doing the same thing. Okay, here's the plot. A man marries into a family that lives in a gigantic, mysterious house in Edgewood. For generations, this family has been interacting in various strange ways with the Faerie folk that live in the forest around them. The family is part of a great Story, and they don't know quite what this story is going to be. Some members of the family come into direct contact with the fae, while others yearn to see them and are never able to. A few live lives of tragedy as a result of this proximity with the mythic side of reality, while others live semi-normal lives. Being part of a grand Story? Having a Destiny? These are meaningless designations unless it ends up BEING a grand story. Or unless it feels like a destiny is reached. You can't entertain me by assuring me these people are Living Some Grand Story, when I can see clearly that Nothing is Happening. They're all hanging out at a house in the woods, going through the process of forgetting about their connection to the faerie realm because they believe this is the only safe thing for the family. Then, finally on page 450 or so, it looks like there's GONNA be a plot. The kind of plot where stuff is going to happen. But don't worry: it's a false alarm. Things DO happen, but they're safely off-screen and vague. Then the end pops up predictably and....well, bleck. How else could it have ended? I mean, did anyone NOT know it would end this way? And is the ending crafted in a way that's especially insightful? Let me be honest about something, though: I don't like generation-spanning fiction. Pick the generation that is interesting and focus in, don't give me 400 pages of background about the people who won't be involved in whatever climax you've cooked up. If someone isn't even alive during your story's climax, then why do you think it's a good idea to tell me about them? But if these characters had come to life for me, I would've probably still enjoyed the book. Unfortunately, at all of the most dramatic moments of the story, characters did things that seemed to come out of the blue. Why did this married guy and this woman suddenly have an affair? No idea. Why did his wife react the way she did? No idea. I was supposed to be intrigued by all of this I suppose, but it felt flat to me because of my lack of interest in the characters. Crowley reimagines myth in a way that is often vivid but never surprising, and that's unfortunately the strongest part of this book. In sum, I don't recommend it. ...more |
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Apr 27, 2010
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May 19, 2010
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Apr 27, 2010
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Paperback
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| 0575077905
| 9780575077904
| 0575077905
| 4.35
| 180,598
| Mar 20, 2008
| Mar 20, 2008
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really liked it
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Because, even after the first two volumes, every character will STILL surprise you. Because Glokta is the best fantasy character I've found since Tyri
Because, even after the first two volumes, every character will STILL surprise you. Because Glokta is the best fantasy character I've found since Tyrion Lannister. Because Logen is a mushroom-cloud-laying motherfucker. Because you should've seen it coming but you didn't. You really didn't. Because even "gritty" fantasy writers are usually afraid to go this far against expectations. Because you will laugh. You will get angry. Because you will hate the ending. Because the ending is perfect. Because the last surprise is on the last page. Because every combat sequence is spot on. Because every character's actions are spot on. (Despite the fact that we sometimes don't need quite as much explanation as we get.) Because we need more fantasy authors willing to give people like Terry Brooks, Margaret Weiss, Tracy Hickman and Robert Jordan a really good wedgie. (Giving dead people wedgies might be in bad taste, but it's occasionally necessary.) Because worlds with swords and sorcerers are boring when they're perfect. Because people are boring when they're perfect. Because perfect things are boring. Because this series is totally not boring. Because in some ways Abercrombie's series works better than A Song of Ice and Fire (in some ways, just some, not all of them, please put down those rocks). Because it's time to read something entirely made out of awesome. Because this is it. Because. Just because. ...more |
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1
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Mar 21, 2010
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Apr 05, 2010
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Mar 21, 2010
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Paperback
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| 0765318415
| 9780765318411
| 0765318415
| 3.52
| 33,981
| Jun 01, 2009
| Sep 29, 2009
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liked it
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``Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. -- I assure you the anti-gravity hoverchannel is very r
``Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. -- I assure you the anti-gravity hoverchannel is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.'' Eliza was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. She unstrapt herself from her leather seat restraints and stood, careful to maintain her balance as the airship encountered turbulence. When she entered the hoverchannel, she activated the polarity redistribution magnets within her combat suit and began floating comfortably around the perimeter of the foyer. Miss Bingley's attention was quite engaged in watching Mr. Darcy's progress through his book, so much so that at one point she nearly navigated the ship into the side of Pemberley; and she was perpetually making some inquiry. At length, finally exhausted by her tenacious attempts to force a conversation regarding his book, Darcy relented. "It's entitled Boneshaker. An American novel." "What do you think of it?" Eliza said as she drifted by. "A bit nonsensical, really. Steampunk claptrap about the Civil War going on much longer than it actually did, which caused technological advances that didn't really happen until much later. And a zombie-infested city called Seattle. It has been blocked off from the rest of the country, and our heroine must go in to rescue her foolish son." Mr. Bingley crossed the room, his steam-powered mechanical legs stomping their way across the carpet to the cabinet where he refilled his glass. "Zombies in America? That does sound quite silly. Everyone knows that zombies are native to Britain. That's how I lost my legs." "Please, Bingley, don't tell us that old story again," Mr. Hurst said, adjusting himself on the sofa before falling back asleep. Darcy said, "The plot moves along at a good pace, but the characters are a bit uninspired. A teenage boy constantly doing something inadvisable; the protective mother, blasting zombies and trying to save him." Eliza smiled. "Darcy, certainly you aren't saying literature is full of strong female characters who run around rescuing male characters." "Nor should it be," Mr. Hurst said, drifting slowly in and out of consciousness. Ignoring Mr. Hurst's interjection, Darcy said, "I suppose the fairer sex aren't shown in powerful roles that often, even in these books written in the far future about the distant past . . . er, or perhaps about the same time as now . . . When were we written?" Miss Bingley inquired, "Are you sure the dinner agreed with you?" "I feel fine, thank you," Darcy said. "Admit it," Sherlock Holmes said, standing in the doorway, Watson at his side. "You enjoy all the fashionable gimmicks flying left and right, and the pace keeps you entertained. Yet you wonder why nothing surprising was done with any of these elements." Darcy moved over as Holmes sat on the sofa beside him, lighting a pipe. "You're right, Holmes. The whole reinvention of the Civil War is fascinating in theory. Then the author does nothing with it. The book has nothing to say. No reflections on the civil war, racism, or politics. Nor does it say anything about the true nature of zombies. In fact, it says little about love, which is the very heart of the story." J. K. Rowling, refilling her glass of zinfandel, said, "And it's practically a young adult novel, isn't it? Other than one or two mildly violent zombie moments and one four letter 'S' word, this could be the next film from Pixar. There's not even a gay sorcerer to throw off the prudes." Darcy met Eliza's eyes as she orbited the room. "Have you read it as well, Miss Bennett?" "Braaaains," Mr. Hurst moaned softly. "I found it diverting," Eliza said. "I always read the books nominated for the Nebula awards. But, like you, I found the novel didn't meet my expectations. When you look beyond the stylish trappings, you have a run-of-the-mill adventure story written in a workmanlike fashion. I imagine the query letter was spectacular, though." Darcy was on the verge of speaking when Mr. Hurst lunged up from the sofa, saliva splattering from his vicious maw, his eyes sunken in and rolled back into his head. He lurched across the room toward Bingley, whose back was facing him. Eliza kicked off of the wall and rolled over to Darcy, pulling his pistol from his belt, and fired several rounds through Mr. Hurst's head. A splatter of blood, brain and skull chips showered down on Harold Bloom. "Well," Mr. Harold Bloom said, wiping blood from his face and wiping it on the sofa, "that was entirely unnecessary, but what HASN'T been? The whole book review is sound and fury, signifying nothing. And how many times is this hack going to parody Pride and Prejudice? He seems to think it's much more funny than it is, just as Oscar Wilde thought himself hilarious, when he is in fact highly over-esteemed." Holmes puffed his pipe, a gray cloud of smoke rising above him. "I can't believe I didn't notice Mr. Hurst was turning. Usually I'm so attentive to details." "Nobody's perfect," Darcy said. "Would you mind putting that pipe out? We are in a zeppelin, you know." Holmes sighed and stood up, pulling on his overcoat. "I'm going next door to the Kurt Vonnegut review. Pipe smoking is encouraged over there." And as Holmes left the room, suddenly the review stopped. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 25, 2010
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Mar 06, 2010
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Feb 25, 2010
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Paperback
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| 0553804677
| 9780553804676
| 0553804677
| 4.31
| 319,851
| Jun 01, 2006
| Jun 27, 2006
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it was amazing
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Ocean's Eleven was great and everything, but know what would've made it cooler? If the setting had been during the late middle ages, possibly the Rena
Ocean's Eleven was great and everything, but know what would've made it cooler? If the setting had been during the late middle ages, possibly the Renaissance. Better yet, a fantasy world version of the Renaissance with an intricate system of magic and a complex set of political conspiracies to add some flair. And what if the city was built upon the ruins of an earlier city, and the earlier city was built by some enigmatic science fiction creatures that have since disappeared? And if instead of a handsome, tepid and understated George Clooney in the lead, we had a short guy who can't swordfight a whit, and has a bit of an anger management issue? And he drops unexpected one-liners that make you literally laugh out loud while you're in the breakroom at work and suddenly everyone is looking at you like you're psycho? What if the character went to the Mel Gibson school of Masochism, requiring he gets beat to a bloody pulp and stabbed and drowned in horse urine...oh, I don't know....several times per story arc? How about this character (we'll call him Locke) is absolutely fallible and occasionally screws up on a cosmic level? The kind of screw-up that would get someone less clever killed in mere seconds? And what if, improbably, this protagonist somehow escapes and still--in a manner of speaking--wins? That sounds like fun. But, it COULD end up a little predictable. So, the author should be a recent graduate of the George R R Martin School of Bumping Off Prominent Characters (Yes, these schools do exist). And the con game Locke is building should hit tons of snags that continue raising the stakes and drawing in new, more dangerous characters, increasing the risk until you just can't stop reading even to put out house fires for the last couple hundred pages. And then, when somehow the Gentlemen Bastards emerge on the other side, coated in their own blood and the blood of others, triumphant, you put the book down and say "Wow." Furthermore! How about, even though the book is the first book in a ridiculously long series, this hypothetical book is a complete story! (For those of you who read a lot of Very Long Fantasy Serieses, this may be a foreign concept. It may help to wiki the words "climax" and "resolution.") When you finish this one, you aren't forced to keep reading in order to find out how the conflict is resolved. You actually know. That sounds pretty cool. Well, it is cool. It is witty, profane, violent, over the top, and frequently hilarious. I can't believe this is Scott Lynch's first novel, and I can't wait to read more. This is an incredibly fun adventure novel. Find yourself a copy and read it. ...more |
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1
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Jan 18, 2010
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Jan 25, 2010
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Jan 18, 2010
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Hardcover
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| 0385304471
| 9780385304474
| 0385304471
| 3.98
| 6,977
| Aug 01, 1990
| Sep 01, 1991
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it was ok
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Hi, I'm John Densmore, and I was drummer for the Doors! I know, I know. Thank you. Thank you. You may be seated. Anyway, you should read my book. It i Hi, I'm John Densmore, and I was drummer for the Doors! I know, I know. Thank you. Thank you. You may be seated. Anyway, you should read my book. It is full of amazing insight, such as: 1. Jim Morrison = douche. 2. My genitals are really itchy. 3. We were so mistreated by that douche Jim Morrison. 4. But he was kind of a mystic shaman prophet douche. 5. And he made us rich. 6. The record company totally bastardized our music because they were so obsessed with making money. They didn't realize what a brilliant poet mystic Jim was. 7. But he was pretty much a drunken asshole. 8. Van Morrison: also awesome. Not related to Jim. 9. Nothing important has happened to music since Bob Marley. 10. I mean, they really itch. Bad. ...more |
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not set
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not set
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Dec 12, 2009
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Paperback
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| B0DSZLN57Y
| 4.16
| 194,807
| Apr 28, 1985
| May 2010
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it was amazing
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*Updated, now with an additional McCarthyized section of the Bible, moved up from the comment section.* Here's what I'm thinkin. THE CORMAC MCCARTHY PRO *Updated, now with an additional McCarthyized section of the Bible, moved up from the comment section.* Here's what I'm thinkin. THE CORMAC MCCARTHY PROJECT Ever since reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, I've been considering the possibilities of revisiting the classics and, um, reinterpreting them. Butchering? Yes, you're probably right. Butchering them. That's the right word. Anyway, since Cormac McCarthy has the most distinctive and powerful voice of any modern writer (that I've read recently)(in my opinion), I pose the question: what if Cormac McCarthy were to revisit the classics of the English canon? What if McCarthy had been the author of The Great Gatsby? How would it have ended up? I think this is an important enough question to begin a new writing project, or, at the least, write a Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ review pretending I'm going to. First, we have to establish these new versions of the classics will be stylized after McCarthy's Western Novels, starting with Blood Meridian and ending with Cities of the Plain. Characteristics include: 1) No punctuation other than periods and question marks. 2) No indication of who is talking during dialogue, although you can always tell. 3) Poetic descriptions of barren landscapes which often reflect the callous indifference of nature to the plights of humanity. 4) Untranslated Spanish dialogue. 5) No hint of the characters' internal dialogue; all characters are revealed only through action and conversation. 6) Gratuitous and unexpected acts of horrendous violence. 7) During casual conversation, characters frequently say incredibly profound shit. Although there's more to his style than this, we can take this as the most bare-essential aspects of what is necessary to properly "translate" a novel into its McCarthy version. As an example, let's take a certain scene from Pride and Prejudice. How about the one where Lady Catherine is quizzing Elisabeth about whether D'arcy has indeed proposed to her? They're alone, walking in the garden (although in the McCarthy version, they would be walking upon a windswept moor). Here we go: +++++++ Dust clung to their boots and the tall grass shuddered on the frigid wind. A raven perched upon the fallen branch of an elm and watched them with one jet eye. Lady Catherines hands grasped nervously at nothing as she looked across the moor. Young women of unfortunate birth shouldnt attempt to reach beyond their station. What? Don't pretend you don't know of what I speak. Eliza spat and turned away. She walked into the doorway of a church. Inside dozens of bodies lay heaped upon the floor. Blood hard and dried like clay caked upon the stone of the floor. Flies traversed upon the eyelids of a child that stared blankly at Eliza who turned away. Los Muchachos estan muerto. Muerto? Muerto. Si. Eliza brushed her hair back. All of the constrictions you place upon mans actions are nothing to the ineffable stretch of the world which knows that all is war. No system of morality is anything but pretense which the least of gods vile beasts can shatter simply through the act of killing for its survival. Morality holds no water when it stands eye to eye with stark reality. Lady Catherine spat and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. Its damn cold. Wait which of us said that? I did. Oh. Alright. I wont promise I would never accept a proposal if I dont think its ever to be given. Nor can I swear as to what I would do in a situation that Ive never known myself to be in. Well arent you a contrary little whore. Lady Catherine spat. Ill not forget how youve treated me this day. Her finger moved closer to the knife that hung at her hip. ++++++ And here's one of the Bible's more memorable passages, McCarthyized: 19:1 From out the dark sky over all Gods reckoning the two drifted like fallenleaves downward as Lot tipped back the widebrimmed hat, rubbing his thumb over stubble and spat on the grounddirt. Raising heavy to his feet and stretching he ambled forward dust raising an etherial plume in the nightair like ghosts of sinners dwelling on the threshold of the dark. the untamed past hovered there in the darkness by Sodom. 19:2 Come in ifn you want. We don't mind sleepin outside. No really I got plenty room. Cmon in. The angels came in bare feet on the packed dirt covered with indescribable years of footprints crisscrossed into an impossible to fathom reckoning of feet stretching back through indescribable years. So many feet and such a dirty floor. 19:3 He cooked bread. They warshed up and ate. 19:4 Out the window shadows encroached from the jet locustridden expanse of Sodom. Figures in stillness, nooses dangling from withered hands and that dust rising like the dead pounding from the other side of eternity trying to return trying to be unforsaken from the temporal purgatory the men dwelt in. Who them men we saw with them white robes. 19:5 Gone home, Jenkins, he said. Not til we know who them fugitives is you harborin. They aint niggers is they. Didn't you see they white robes. They aint no niggers. Lot walked out the house into that humidity the wind like the word of God drifting with threats of retribution and reckoning. Tell you what, men, you better get back on home and mind ya damn business. This aint no affair of yourn. The Willis boy had a strapon fixed to his forehead pointing up accusingly at the heavens an erection of defiance. He wore that collar that said Slave as always. He was danglin handcuffs from his hand like like a hypnotist without a pocketwatch. We just wanna see um. We just wanna meet um. Maybe have a little fun with um. 19:7 Lot spat a wad of nasal discharge loudly upon the earth and glanced back at the house. Tell you what boys. I invited them men into my house and I wont have them mistreated but I got them two good fer nothin daughters. You leave my visitors alone Ill bring them on out. 19:8 Willis nodded, that plastic tusk swaying in the nightair. What fer. Whatever yall find fittin. It aint fer me to say. Just leave my visitors alone. Okay, apparently it's not easy to write in Cormac McCarthy's style without sucking. I suppose the only way THE CORMAC MCCARTHY PROJECT can be effectively carried out is if McCarthy himself were to actually write these translations. So, if anyone runs into Cormac, let him know about this project, and how important it is for him to get to work right away. After all, there are lots of classics. I believe he lives in New Mexico. So, if you're wandering through a dark, dank cave and hear the sounds of typewriter keys pounding away, you've probably found his lair. Approach slowly, and don't make eye contact. I suppose, while I'm at it, I could say something about Blood Meridian. FUCKING AMAZING! I hate giving five star ratings, probably because I'm so curmudgeonly. But, for the third time, McCarthy is making me give him one. I just can't find anything to fault here, and the story is different from any I've ever read before. The writing is amazing, the characters are good (although the Judge fits a certain fiction stereotype, he's a very memorable version of it), and I was startled by the horror of it all . . . until I became numb to it. Which was the intention, or I think it was at any rate. This is the horrifying story of a group who are being paid to hunt down injuns and scalp them. Over time, the bloodlust of the group grows and they begin scalping those they're intended to be saving, and basically everyone they come across. When it comes time to be paid for the scalps, the scalps all look the same anyway. Sothey make tons of money from the indiscriminant slaughter of soldiers, villagers, travelers and everyone else. And, from there, things get uglier. This is all based on historical events, or so I've heard. I haven't researched it enough to know how closely. But, this is a very dark vision of the "wild west," and the blood that was spilled while the land was still wild. If you have the stomach for it, this is an amazing book. ...more |
Notes are private!
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Nov 17, 2009
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Paperback
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| 0393320979
| 9780393320978
| 0393320979
| 3.49
| 333,434
| 1000
| Feb 17, 2001
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really liked it
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*bum bum* IN A WORLD . . . *bum bum* . . . FULL OF NASTY MONSTERS . . . *bum bum* . . . WHO EAT PEOPLE AND BREAK INTO CASTLES . . . *bum bum* . . . TH
*bum bum* IN A WORLD . . . *bum bum* . . . FULL OF NASTY MONSTERS . . . *bum bum* . . . WHO EAT PEOPLE AND BREAK INTO CASTLES . . . *bum bum* . . . THE BEASTLY GRENDEL LURKED LONG OVER THE MOORES . . . *bum bum* . . . BUT NOW . . . *Cut to scene of monster ripping someone's face off with his teeth* (silence. black screen.) *Unknown warriors approaching* "Who are ye, then, ye armed men, mailed folk, that yon mighty vessel have urged thus over the ocean ways, here o'er the waters?" *bum bum* . . . ONE MAN . . . *bum bum* . . . ONE LARGE MAN . . .*bum bum* . . . OF NOBLE BIRTH AND LONG, LONG SWORD . . . *bum bum* . . . IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN SAVE THEM. "Hither have fared to thee far-come men o'er the paths of ocean, people of Geatland; and the stateliest there by his sturdy band is Beowulf named. This boon they seek, that they, my master, may with thee have speech at will: nor spurn their prayer to give them hearing, gracious Hrothgar! In weeds of the warrior worthy they, methinks, of our liking; their leader most surely, a hero that hither his henchmen has led." *cue symphony: BUM-BUM-BUUUUMMMMM! BUM-BUM-BUUUUMMMMM* Beowulf speaks: "To Hrothgar I in greatness of soul would succor bring, so the Wise-and-Brave may worst his foes, -- if ever the end of ills is fated, of cruel contest, if cure shall follow, and the boiling care-waves cooler grow; else ever afterward anguish-days he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place high on its hill that house unpeered!" *Everyone looks around at each other, wondering what the fuck he's talking about* *Exciting symphony, something along the lines of "O Fortuna." combat shown as Beowulf tosses Grendel down, gets Grendel in a headlock, pokes him in his eyes. Beowulf takes his shoe off and starts hitting Grendel on the top of his head with it.* *Music stops. Shot of Beowulf on the shore, hand on his hilt.* Beowulf speaks: "Tis time that I fare from you. Father Almighty in grace and mercy guard you well, safe in your seekings. Seaward I go, 'gainst hostile warriors hold my watch." BEOWULF. PG-13, Parents Strongly Cautioned. Contains Monsters Biting People's Faces Off, Graphic Far-Fetched Violence, and Shots of Beowulf's Bare Chest. Beowulf is totally the precursor to Conan, and Rambo. He's mothafuckin' badass. And you know how, since the Rambo movies are so old, they come out in boxed sets now? Think of this slim volume as a trilogy: BEOWULF BEOWULF II: MOMMY DEAREST BEOWULF III: BEOWULF VERSUS A BIG-ASS DRAGON While often trilogies get worse as they go along, this one actually improves. And it's safe to say that a fourth sequel will never come out about Beowulf after he gets old and out of shape. . . although that might be what BEOWULF VERSUS A BIG-ASS DRAGON is. If you like football, Stallone, Escape From New York, and can't get enough of Arnold Schwarzenegger, this is THE classic for you. ...more |
Notes are private!
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not set
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Nov 03, 2008
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Paperback
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