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13
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| B0DM23L2HF
| 4.37
| 47,930
| Oct 1973
| 1973
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None
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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 14, 2024
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ebook
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12
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| 1250874971
| 9781250874979
| B0BSD5JCH2
| 3.77
| 335
| Dec 14, 2022
| Dec 14, 2022
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liked it
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**spoiler alert** So many moons ago the world appeared simpler, kinder, more tranquil & settled. Conceivably, this is false. The species of which we a
**spoiler alert** So many moons ago the world appeared simpler, kinder, more tranquil & settled. Conceivably, this is false. The species of which we are a part—should some other form of intelligence penetrate the linguistic barriers that keep us apart, may they regard this written word with benevolence—has always acted contrary to progress. This is oversimplifying the issue, of which I am aware. However, it remains true, nevertheless. Decades have passed since the wheel became the gem on which we rode swiftly & that which allowed any number of new features to become introduced into our society. Did the wheel hinder us? How might the wheel regard the work we have done thanks to its shape & stature? A silly question, but, one I ask earnestly. Simple questions lead to the core of an issue. Can we state with certainty that we have always been ignorant of doing the right thing or could we blame the inconvenience of this decision as the reason why we have not taken it? In humanity, there is the possibility of greatness. Our ability to communicate with each other, across a divisive landscape that shapes our culture & comprehension of the world is fantastic. We have words to describe the most abstract aspect of our personal experiences, ones we discover, other people are exposed to as well. What a beautiful thing it is to be human. The snow & ice, through grains of sand & boiling heat; amidst waves of wind & cooling green, we have found one another, over & over again, & have had the privilege of understanding that the very nature of our existence is to be intertwined with each other. Unfortunately, the responsibility of such a powerful machine has allowed us to forget ourselves. Perhaps it is not all deep thinkers who ponder the nature of existence & I am sure that not all weapon-wielding psychopaths reflect on the moronic nature of a single truth to rule them all. In between these extremes are those we meet in passing, those whose faces pixelate the screens, never to breathe life into the air again. How might we change the nature of our person if, at our core, the defensiveness of our understanding of life places us at a disadvantage? Such are the questions that arose while I read this story. The narrator permits us our questions knowing he has no answers, he does not even pretend to care; these questions are our responsibility & what we do with the answers we find is our choice. This same narrator shares a secret with the reader which is so devious, dark, & deranged, that one cannot help but revise the dogma that has brought them to the point of belief. Here we arrive at the part that I find pleasure in most; the essence. This is a story about a man who was once a combatant for his people & their system of belief. The narrator remains nameless—his identification matters little here, one must remember this. Rather, what the reader is meant to focus on are the facts. The narrator is a man, he is a skilled craftsman, & linguist. He was once a slave to the people he attempted to eradicate & somehow scammed his way into freedom. Where the reader meets this man is, again, of little consequence though, those with a taste for details will revel in the lines of this story. The workshop, the tools, the light fixtures, & window panes, all describe the setting that will cement itself into the mind of the reader who is most likely to trust the narrator; a man who lies to stay alive. His story follows him & his discovery, by chance & through the forced employment tinged with the threat of torture & death, of a piece of religious text that explains the beginning of the universe, or to be more clear, the original truth of existence. Should there be a reader among us who has had no exposure to such texts they may find a new concept presented in this story. Unlike this imaginary innocent individual, I have long revelled at the logistics of believing one book contained everything that mattered. Perhaps you laugh thinking of me sitting, walking, crouching, & leaning ruminating over this same premise, tirelessly. I promise you, it brings great humour to my life. The narrator is quite my polar opposite & perhaps this is a consequence of his inadvertent serfdom. For the price of being allowed to live a few weeks longer, the narrator must translate & transcribe afresh the text handed to him by the ghoulish woman whose sister sits comfortably in a council seat. This world is not like ours. The author has ensured that sufficient details were given to make the reader forget whose story is being told. Presumably, one could clock the allegory for what it is; a note on the stupidity of an all-consuming religion. Of course, who am I to judge—glass houses & all of that? Except, if we were all made from the same form, this invisible Deosis thought enough of me to allow me the sloppy center that runs the goading queries I send his way. Therefore, perhaps I am perfectly positioned to judge. I am getting ahead of myself, unlike the narrator who paces the story perfectly, I find impatience seeping into my Cerebrum. Why did the narrator believe that his people were the only people who understood the truth? Why did a genocidal rampage, also known as a crusade, a jihad, or a sanctum bellum, need to take place? Could not the people in this story live at peace with the understanding that there was no logic in believing that only one dogma of belief was authentic & true? Why is it so complicated to accept that human beings may never hold the truth they seek & rather than burn the world in an attempt to find some cave dweller’s drawing of a star or some door in the wall, we might all do well to focus on the dying mantle on which we lean for support? The narrator does not perturb himself with such questions. His story is simple, he does a job & this is how he spends his days. He changes course only when the antagonist makes her way to his workshop, at which point, he plots her death & then he is set free to begin anew. The simplistic nature of this story piqued my fancy while I was reading it & I ruminated on how to best proceed with a review that would touch on religious beliefs as so many others have already done such as my review of Mikhail Bulgakov’s “The Master and Margarita� (1967), & J.D. Salinger’s “Franny and Zooey� (1957). You may note that I enjoy the discourse that accompanies such texts. I find religion intriguing, in the same way that the decomposition of a corpse is scientifically pertinent & irresistible. Though, I did not know that this story would contain a quirky topic that proves to be the well of much delightful pontification, I am glad to have come upon it. Whereas, the narrator was a man I would have loved to sneak around town learning to understand, the short-lived nature of our soured romance within the pages left me dripping for more. I wanted to know his secrets so that I could break them off on my teeth like frozen grapes. I wanted to savour the butter tart confection of what he kept hidden from me. All of this is flimsy & sugary for my sake & those of other readers. The author left the story where it ended. The narrator grew old whereas I am not yet; How can I follow him & his lies if we will part with finality when one of us dies? What makes this story so sickly sweet is the fact that it is short. The sections filled with descriptions of the past, the wars, the murder, the violence, & gore, all speak to a world that many readers will not understand. Yet, at the same time, it exists right next door. This terrible truth will leave readers to masticate at their discretion, the narrator has more to share. For when the death of the evil witch-like lady is through, the ogress slain, & the charming prince of thieves returns to his peaceful life of memories that haunt him like Meningitis, the literature that could change the world goes into a vault & is only seen again at the end. Will readers believe that the narrator’s fears were unjustified? Will a reader choose to think that the script was a forgery? Is it plausible to believe that the massacre of thousands of people was worth it in the name of the truth? The narrator does not ask these questions. As I said he speaks only of the facts he wishes the reader to know such as the creation of coins & the linguistic family of an old tongue. His trust in the reader is not, trust at all, but a coyly set diversion & time for the reader to forgive themselves for the nasty rogue feeling of time wasted with the slave, the serf, the craftsman, the linguist, the old man who might have been wrong & was responsible for the murder of people the reader will never know or understand. Will the reader believe the narrator when he wanders off with what may be a forgery or will they hold steady, believing that the man of many thoughts could not deceive them if he understood the value of the truth? Ultimately, I feel a keen enjoyment thinking of this story as I write this review. I enjoyed the narrator, I appreciated that he was a flawed man who lied & killed & created beautiful things because he spent years enslaved & was taught how. I relish the world-building that the author gave me & how he hid the two-pronged road right in between my eyes waiting for me to leer forward & impale the irises through which I read his text. This story is easy & simple, the narrator is not a man with time to galavant down memory lane though he shows the reader down hallways littered with crumbs of a life he cannot escape; all this made of him a character who coloured the paragraphs of a story too familiar to be fiction. Supposing that everything he said was true, the lives of thousands, millions, or billions, were lost to the inquisitive & salivating tongue of the serpent who masquerades as the gentle son of a soul that saw him die by his own naive hands; to believe that man is unable to trade truths for freedom is fantastical, maniacal, & sad. In too many stories the hero falls prey to the moors he once called home & where is his God then? Who saves the man who has abandoned his life for a single book on which the premise of his entire existence lies? Were it false prophecies we may always celebrate the end of a world that never comes. However, one need not wait long, for the barrel of freedom is aimed just right, surely this time, the soul will be set free. If you would like to read this story, please visit this ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Mar 29, 2024
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Mar 29, 2024
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Kindle Edition
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11
| 
| 0802162959
| 9780802162953
| B0CH1NHWNW
| 4.00
| 16,362
| Apr 02, 2024
| Apr 02, 2024
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it was amazing
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**spoiler alert** It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, tou
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the book's subject matters & those detailed in my review overwhelming. I suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters that contain reflections on the death of a loved one, graphic violence, torture, forced confinement, the sexual abuse of a child, violent crime, lynching, grief, & others. The good story begins with the voice of wonder speaking down from the clouds; sneaking blissfully through the wind; resounding like falling timber in the woods; offering the sounds of sonorous fantasia into the pulsing eardrum of the reader. The narrator may never be seen by the reader but for his resounding voice, which often feels too far away to chase & yet resounds with comfort, too close to release into the page. Rainy’s narration is one of a man whom readers will love immediately. His story begins where all good stories do, with his heartstrings sewn tightly to the instrument he sets forward to play. As readers open the page to this chronology they will meet what defines the traveller’s furry; the incomparable emaciating infatuation of a story. The cover art for this book gave me pause. I will always admit, with truth & compassion, that I judge books by their covers. I do not do this because my opinion matters more than the artist or the author whose time & investment crafted the joint nature of visual art. Rather, I do this because the beast's shell speaks to me or is silent. I have been reading for a great many years, I state with certainty that I know when to listen to the tectonic murmur of a story & when to go on my way. This is not a science; sometimes books do not appeal to me or, in other cases, their colours seem to promise me the ruby & leave me empty-handed in the end. I enjoy reading so, it’s no love lost, either way. In this case, Enger chose wisely. The colourful painted world of his tale was brought to life on the cover & for this reason, I requested the opportunity to read what was held inside. It was early in my reading experience that I realized that I could not eagerly run to the end of this book. It was too good to leave. I reached out to a friend, who will surely recognize himself in this section—rather what are friends for if not to support one’s adulation of reading? As it so happens, I knew he would love this book as much as me, yet, I was hesitant to tell him so because, at that point, I had only read about ten percent of the 300+ pages. Every sentence reminded me of the joy I felt as a child, reading the adventurous series of booksÌý « Amos Daragon : Porteur des masques » (2003) by Bryan Perro. As an adult, I felt that the years spent reading as a child shaped the world around me & I never stopped chasing the format that contained the stories I adored. In adulthood, adventures & turmoil, hidden treasure, fantasy & lore, often disappear into the backdrop. Yet, readers of these genres, such as myself & my friend, often make our way indirectly to the origin of what was for us, the beginning of enchantment. Enger welcomed me into his story after time away from such imaginativeness. The introduction will allow readers to ease their way into the milky sautéd waters of the Great Lakes which are home to me & my country’s neighbour. The story will be a dystopian nightmare, yet not ghoulish like the fanged villains who bomb the houses where children live, yet seething in a way that reminds readers why dreams of adventure are so deeply important. In its essence, this is a story about death & grieving, & the ways in which our person dies a slow death waiting to rejoin those whom we have loved in this life. Rainy, the main character, is a man who is kind, he is tender & funny, smart & musically inclined. His narration of the story comes from a point in the future. The reader is unsure of why Rainy has chosen to share his recollections or if he knows that we are listening. However, these details are not as important as they may seem; Rainy has something to share & so he does. This excursion began when his beloved wife, Lark, was murdered in their home by a group of government bruisers who ransacked the house in search of a runaway prisoner. I find this story difficult to review. I felt terribly sad when Lark was murdered & yet, I hardly knew her. In fact, Lark wasn’t a real person at all, she is a character in a book. Her character was warm, cunning, savvy & humorous, she was gentle & firm, empathetic & silly. Lark felt like the rain over dry crops; she was a person who brought life into the story by the mere mention of her person. It is no mystery to me why I felt so positively devastated by her untimely demise. Lark’s character enters the story & acts as the light that shines the way for Rainy. Their marriage is one that would make the most claustrophobic covet the cupboard to feel such snug warmth. Lark was a keener of delicate & valuable books—readers will love her for this fact alone. She owned a shop in the town & roamed the country in search of estate sales & delicate treasures she may amass for her collection. In the world of this story, such treasures were rare & often miscategorized for their lack of immediate value, such as one would find in a tool or wire. I suppose in some ways, I wanted the opportunity to visit Lark. I did not forget where I sat while reading this book nor did I envy the characters their world; a society in which rampant triads of gore shimmered in every horizon & sunrise. Yet, had the opportunity to visit her little shop of wonders been granted, I would have taken it. You see, I cannot pass up the chance to see what stories are beloved by another. Here we find ourselves at the heart of the story. Though this book deals primarily with violence, the adventure of finding a person one has lost to death, & the trials of surviving in a gruesomely barbaric society; this story also teases the reader with sweets in the form of tales & first drafts, of chronicles that the bind knows the reader cannot pass up. The title of this book is the same as the one that Lark has pursued throughout her adult life. I am compassionate of her endless & tiresome travels, attempting to obtain the precious gem that has escaped her. When finally she finds it, her death follows soon after. What is the purpose of this book? What is the goal when including a secondary author in the torment of grief that overshadows all other things? Readers may find that Enger confuses himself by encouraging Rainy to carry a book that Lark loved & yet never had the opportunity to ruminate on, throughout the months of his travels in search of her spirit reincarnate. Veteran readers, or readers who are people with days under their skies & dozens of meetings with the moon, will not begrudge Enger or Rainy their small comfort. As referenced earlier, the goons who were responsible for Lark’s murder were chasing an escaped prisoner whose name was Kellan. His character is flawed, rather sullen, sulky & shy. However, Kellan is also patient, insightful, & kind. Though the reader never learns the details of Rainy’s age, they may come to look at him as a man in the middle; a person who has lived long enough to know the patterns & flow of life but who has enough spirit left in him to try something new & tempt fate, one more time. The relationship that these two characters share is short-lived. Kellan runs away in the middle of Lark’s birthday party & Rainy sees him only upon arriving on the government’s prison ship. Yet, their time is well-spent & readers are given the layout of the viper’s nest that sits quietly in the tall grass. Though I do not think it is my place—a reviewer’s place—to recap the story in its entirety, I hope this morsel suffices for readers who have yet to read the book, to engage their curiosity further by going to the source.Ìý Enger writes a story that lingers in the mind. Every single character is a delight, even when they act as the antagonist to the melodramatic chants of the protagonist. The feat of writing an adventure the likes of which rivals Homer’s “The Odysseyâ€� (725 BCE), is incomparably difficult. Readers seldom forget themselves in their reading experience. Those who do are perhaps reading for escapism or are less critical of the world built around them; none of which are bad things. To be met with the dedicated talent of an author who understands their characters & the shadow figures of their imaginary world is a treat one savours upon encountering. Enger is an author whom I will seek out again. What made this story so enthralling had perhaps less to do with the plot than it did with the characters. Rainy was not without his faults & none of the secondary characters were altogether trustworthy. In scenes, the reader meets people who are abusive, cruel, & tormented. The next chapters gently untangle a forgotten memory that Rainy wishes to share & it seems that the story is forgiven for the introduction of an annoying child or of a dirty malevolent predator. Just as life is flawed & faulted by the very nature of its existence, so too was this story. The flow of the narrative captured what it meant to mourn a loss that was stolen; a thieved facet of what made life worth living. The imagery presented throughout Rainy’s travels reminded me of home while also speaking to me in a language foreign to my understanding. The claim of this being a dystopian novel is factually correct, though I would hesitate to state that devourers of this genre of story will be met with their most beloved in this bind. Rather, this story appeals to readers because of its adventurous nature; wandering minds & analytic thinkers will have something to devour & deconstruct without necessarily stepping outside the confines of comfort. The equation presented is one that a tired & true reader may have encountered before. In some ways, this reminded me of John Langan’s “The Fishermanâ€� (2017), which is how I sold it to my friend, telling him that in this book he would find the classic storytelling of ancient philosophers & the clawing nature of the magistral beast that we both loved in Langan’s fantastical horror. These points are not meant to discourage readers, on the contrary, I believe that one has certainly come upon a book that missed the heart of what their reader’s mind was seeking to find & I believe that I have been satiated by reading Enger’s book. Certainly, the storytelling style of a personal narration, mixed with memories, side notes featuring feelings, & characters the reader will never become acquainted with firsthand, may lead some readers to flounder; What is the purpose in so much detail? While I reference my nameless friend so often it is not without purpose. There were times while reading when I wondered if my grasp of English was strong enough or if I had enough life experience to empathize with Rainy. On other occasions, I felt overexposed to feelings I kept locked away or memories that reminded me of my existence. Though I shall never come out & say the things that make me who I am & very rarely hint at them, the books that I appreciate—the stories that I love—do that for me. To share such high esteem with another person is quite a vulnerable position. Rainy spends an entire novel speaking to the reader because they are a stranger. He knows how he may sound & he understands that he will come across, as sometimes shallow, & sometimes a silly dreamer, but he shares his experiences because this part of him has lived in his person for so long, & it has come time to set it free. I knew I loved Rainy immediately & I rather bemoan myself for writing that sentiment here because I do not want you to know this. Rainy reminds me quite intimately of the hope I held a very long time ago. He remained nearly faceless throughout this entire story because, as all great love stories go, we met in the written word & we shall never have the chance to meet with eyes locked in understanding. His deep-rooted admiration, tenderness, respect—his love—for Lark opened a soft spot for him in my mind & it was overwhelming to see him remain a man that a reader could trust, flaws & all. What kind of reader does this make me? Perhaps in the same way that Rainy sought refuge with the quietly gentle couple in the remote town near a Great Lake, so too have I tilted my head upward to meet the bear waiting for me in the forest. Ultimately, as I wrote out my recommendation to my friend—a person who knows me well enough now to understand the grappling nature of sickness that cut off crumbs of paper for him to follow when it was his time—I remembered myself as a child, reading the great books that shadowed the hallways of the houses I frequented & the people whose minds they lived within. A recommendation is a person’s way of saying; in this delicate treasure, you may find me, alongside the uncharacteristically earnest people who colour the ink. Perhaps, I feel brave because I read a story about a man who could not escape his grief. Maybe, in some way, this story was made magical because it reminded me of something else, or because the prose was more beautiful than a naturally grown rose, or the morning song of a bird waking one from slumber. Certainly, the pilgrimage of grief exists alongside Rainy for the rest of his life. His story does not end as the reader closes the page to stare into silence. Rather, snippets of his joy, his cool water resounding mornings, his riddles & strums, the waves of his forearms & Ursidae heart, beat into the night like a drum whose belly is soft as the fur that once adorned it; tanned with the sorrow of a long & succulently devious life. Thank you to NetGalley, Grove Atlantic, & Leif Enger for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review! ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Mar 02, 2024
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Mar 02, 2024
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Kindle Edition
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10
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| 1668011654
| 9781668011652
| 1668011654
| 3.61
| 26,223
| Jul 11, 2023
| Jul 11, 2023
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really liked it
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**spoiler alert** It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, tou
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the book's subject matters & those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on suicide, parental abuse, financial insecurity, homelessness, substance abuse, pregnancy, abortions, debates in relation to being pro-choice, mental illness, & others. Human society exists on the corner of a crossroads. Simultaneously we walk the streets of riches & decomposition; never certain of our position in the hierarchical structure of wealth & security, we mince our meagre existence to compound fear into submission. Tomorrow is a day far away from the one we are experiencing & yet it remains the messenger of the future. Our savings & settled structures lay in anticipated wait. The city streets of every great nation denounce the cruelty of its own people as they sidestep their coin-tossed fate. The imaginary labour that prevents poverty; the lucky clover & soul-bearing sale, our bid to ensure we are not the dried crust of a life that weasels alongside the empire towers of the capital city.Ìý Our dedication to forgiving the bladed knife of effort is lost on us. Perhaps we opt to believe that what we have is based on merit, like the religious titans of old who pillaged our minds with a need for forgiveness & sin. This leaves little room to incorporate a diversity of nuance. No single person has left untouched the sin of the species. What constitutes the merit of a good life? Who is the innocent that wealth seeks to protect?Ìý In Etter’s novel, the possibility of a teetering utopia hinges on the individual’s belief that their choices are a result of a match made in heaven. The premise of this story dedicates itself to readers with language that is soft & metaphorical in a tangibly simple approach.Ìý The main character, Cassie, is nearing the completion of her first year working at a tech start-up whose main goal is the collection & sale of personal data. Cassie is consumed by despair. Having grown up in a small American town, several States away, she finds herself calling her father for reminders that her current position in life is better than the alternative.ÌýÌý The premise of this story meanders the engaged mind of the reader as they seek to pinpoint an antagonist; someone who might be responsible for the collapse of validation. Cassie is an interesting character as she is the optimal representation of a culture of people who have to work to survive. This statement is not meant to exclude anyone nor shame the lives that are led down different pathways. Simply, Cassie is tethered to her career, ever so much as she hates the person she has become while working in it.Ìý The necessity for a salary might lead a person to feel that their personal value is representative in the system of numeric sequences. In a world where our possessions act as a representation of our successful accomplishments, whilst our inner turmoil is allowed to be sheltered & bathed in loathing; one loses sight of the self. Cassie toys with her living condition & her grocery bill; she needs a home but not one that costs her over three (3) grand to maintain. She needs food but not enough to impoverish herself in the stores of the ignorantly wealthy. The reader grows frustrated with Cassie as the narrative moves forward. Why does she make such stupid choices? Why does Cassie work at a job that requires the sacrifice of all her personal freedom? Why does Cassie live in an apartment that surpasses her means? Why doesn’t Cassie advocate for herself? Why does Cassie allow her thoughts to drown her in sorrow?Ìý No one question necessarily has a simple answer. The terror of this narrative is that any one reader might find themselves reflected in Cassie. Are we to bemoan one another for a collection of books or film posters? Is it wrong to want to enjoy a streaming service or a selection of sweaters? Where do we draw the line between life enjoyment & living in excess? For Cassie there is not necessarily a clear definer of security nor does she possess the ability to gauge her own needs. This narrative presents the main character as though she were living in a dystopian world gone utterly awry, yet, this world is our own.Ìý Cassie’s corporate job resembles the corporate world of snakes & ladders. I also work in a field brimming with sea urchins & sour weeds. Many people benefit from the pull of performance; what others think of our accomplishments matters more than the success itself. While others find the cold lonely chair of architecture without community rather malevolent.Ìý No one has a black hole circling their skulls but they do wear the darkened circles of skin under their eyes & the dreary look of extroversion. I cannot blame them—I am one of them. My life is just as much a part of the corporate culture as Cassie’s. We go into an office space & we are expected to perform.Ìý No one shares meals until a person’s intent is clear. Yet the people littering the street with their inability to be like the corporate crawlers act as a reminder that the freedom of privacy remains up for grabs. If one does not go to the lunch, does not show up to the greeting; does not have their camera on, is not dressed presentably; or does not look eager to be there; they are reminded that others around them want it more. One need only step aside to make way for the forward movement of the eager as they greedily relinquish their independence for the machine.Ìý Yet, I do not believe it is as dreadful as all of that. I rather enjoy my job. I appreciate all the freedom that my revenue accords me. However, I remember when I had none. The story explores the very real probability of falling between the cracks. This reality has recently gained traction as our society experiences the cycle of community. Our ability to share knowledge has been tinged with the malaise that awakens when information is misrepresented—situations fraught with lies. Our social networks heave the weight of misinformation in a bid to save the lost minds of the unlucky.Ìý Mock documentaries, homemade presentations, & intimate conversations showcase the disparity of wealth that exists across North America. Cassie’s Silicon Valley is no different than the one presented in YouTube shorts & reel formats to eager viewers who wish to know more about their own neighbours. Though her days see people set themselves on fire & sever their bodies against moving trains, the differences between fact & fiction grow fewer as the novel progresses. Cassie falls pregnant with the man she has been seeing, casually, for some time. A great debate rages inside her, bringing long-since suppressed experiences with Catholicism to the surface.Ìý She does not tell her partner that she has become pregnant nor does she share the news with anyone—which is her right. The city streets reek with human excrement & her office space closes in as she is repeatedly told that her performance is falling short. There is no space for a new life in the decaying forestry of fire.Ìý The experience changes Cassie. Previously a bonified Easter bunny, she shadows the black hole that salivates at her demise. It is difficult to read about Cassie’s final pensive moments before she commits suicide. The termination of her position in a company in which she poured her entire life; the home that is too expensive in which to reside; the friends who are enemies with scales of performative intrigue; the family that was cold as a marbled stone; Cassie sees no way forward.Ìý One is left flummoxed but accepting of the end. Cassie’s despair is nothing new. According to her, she has been experiencing a loathsome dread for the majority of her life.ÌýWhen it was time to intervene, the streets were silent with the hum of a stoned heap; no one comes running when we have no jogging mates. Though this view is morbid & rather sad, the reader notes the absence of real connection within Cassie’s world. Her romantic relationship cannot move forward, the man she loves is prevented from loving her—one does not actually know if he wants to fall in love, or simply enjoy the confines of the spaces within Cassie. The family & friends, the society at writ large, no one cares whether Cassie loves her job or whether she becomes like the sleeping man under her window—insane to the high achievers. The putrid resemblance of our societies is shocking. The author colours the world of Cassie’s surroundings with clear lines; no one escapes their role in the fallen kingdom. One is explicitly seen throughout the pages. Perhaps, the disentangled reader might wish to evade capture. After all, the majority of the characters in this story are crude—downright horrible—people. Who wants to be faced with the masked killer clown doused in makeup so uncomplimentary? Unfortunately, the extremes presented in the character makeup are not meant to be a friendly reminder. One can regard Cassie as an out-of-touch adult who has now been faced with the realism evoked in the hearts of the world. Regardless, some of her traits flare on the skin of readers. Ultimately, what Etter has done is present the viewer with a home movie; has masticated the familiar features of childhood into alien skin. We watch & listen as the plot thickens; will Cassie kill herself? Death to the self is not so different from death at the hands of a stranger though, we might be inclined to trust the hand we know. The black hole that gobbles the protagonist will litter stones & sticks into the city street, reminders along the curbs for those without homes. What is the reader meant to deduce from this narrative? Can one be inclined to be honest & truthful? Can one pursue truth in the theatrical extremes? This story explores what it means to be human in a time wherein being human is existing in two worlds. The icons of our profiles mirror only the lies we tell ourselves. The sidewalks know the thud of our step & the kneeling pressure of our psyche on our heels & bones. Who we are is perhaps not so different than the neighbour whom we watch rise up to the hillside to kill his own son or, so the great visionary joked. The magic of the mirror is that one’s mind might intentionally lie. Rainbows, butterflies, bumble bees, & honey are sweet nectar to the human species. Inside of us lies the hidden Hyde that saunters the night in broad day, waiting to play victim & villain to the self; the morosely intelligent, studied, & learned mind of humankind. Thank you to NetGalley, VERVE Books, & Sarah Rose Etter for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review! ...more |
Notes are private!
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not set
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Jul 24, 2023
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Jul 25, 2023
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ebook
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8
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| 089598962X
| 9780895989628
| 089598962X
| 4.22
| 8,717
| May 06, 1950
| Jan 01, 1989
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really liked it
|
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, theref
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on death, post-mortem practices, the death of an animal, & others. Here we find ourselves once more with a short story read with my friend « Scott ». Around this time of year I think back on all the masters of the craft; writers who build a world of their own in my mind, lingering from the stories they’ve created. Bradbury is once such Titan. Though my first introduction to him was through reputation alone, I was not disappointed upon reading his more reputable work, “Something Wicked This Way Comes� (1962). Everything about Bradbury is memorable; his writing is enthralling, a rapture of what is expected from storytellers, & something altogether magical. This short story embraces a landscape that has been destroyed by what we presume to be nuclear products; by whom & why we cannot know. The entire premise of this story is the ticking of a clock, one that is unseen. The hours pass & they rattle against the only house that remains in a town which has experienced mass devastation. While reading this story I found that I was unable to imagine what the house might look like; its wallpaper, the stovetop burners, how large the windows might be, & where the bedrooms were located. In my mind, this house was a maze. This feeling of imagining myself in a darkness that the author could envision but which I could not fostered feelings of unease & not ones that I had anticipated. It is bizarre that, alongside all of the destruction we witness every day both at home & abroad, I could not bolster the gumption to pretend it to be fictional; untrue & something that hasn’t quite touched us yet. The unfortunate reality is that what is written in this story does affect people. The destruction caused by war is a ravaging beast that consumes without prejudice, save for the one that its instigator safeguards in their principles. The robotic-style mice that linger in the walls of this home, cleaning like they were driven to the brink of despair, as though cleanliness would filter through the consequences of death, was an interesting touch. So few creatures survive in nuclear-ravaged environments. I wonder what the rodents & roaches must think of us. They might wonder why we would be so stupid as to strip ourselves of the only environment in which we can survive; a silly course of action indeed. With the story somewhat revolving around Sara Teasdale’s poem by the same name—“There Will Come Soft Rains� (1918)—it is not difficult for the reader to form feelings of fondness for the world that Bradbury has inserted around the enchanting prose left behind by Teasdale. Both of which grant us all the opportunity to change, to think twice, & to remember. Before the final moments of the house’s agency are stripped from it; after the dog has died, after the incinerator’s flames have cooled, & before the sky darkens once more, there is a moment of remembering. We can look back at our lives individually or as a collective, if we are so inclined, & remember all the days of our lives that led us here. How quickly they escape us when guided by giant orbs in our skies. When all is said & done, this is why I appreciated this story so much. Perhaps it is not so much what Bradbury writes as how he approaches writing it. I feel in his words the space to reflect before understanding; a moment of reprieve before the pages collapse in my hand. If one has the chance to waltz alongside the storytellers & word sharpers, one is certainly in good company. If you would like to take a moment to read this story please consult this ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Nov 29, 2022
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Dec 01, 2022
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Paperback
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5
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| 3.66
| 22,773
| May 24, 2018
| Oct 01, 2020
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it was amazing
|
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, theref
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on physical gore, grief, body mutilation, suicidal ideation, mental illness, & others. There is no introduction to life, to the plight of the singular, they who become one in the collective bonding of the species. Ravn writes from a point in time already in existence, a location distanced from the familiarity of our own surroundings—one the reader recognizes as theirs, possessing the ties to alight them with tinges of the common. The spacecraft, Six-Thousand Ship, is a play on a word the human species employs in both casual & dauntingly professional use: ‘Citizenship�. What does it mean to be on the Six-Thousand Ship? Who belongs & who arrived uninvited? What parts of the Six-Thousand Ship environment shape the entities that wade the rooms locked from the inside? For those familiar with the philosophy of Dualism, Ravn’s work will ring bells as stunningly as La Fidèle in Disney’s “The Hunchback of Notre Dame II� (2000); painting the interior of the mind with crystallized colours of recognition, booming a rainbow behind the eyes. This book reads as a classical alliteration of the interrogations posed to the self by the philosophers who sought to clarify the great questions of our species. In this instance, the author has presented the reader with a scenario altered for argument’s sake, alone. What is the relation between a person & the objects in the room they covet? In this specific instance, the ‘Statements� presented throughout the book depict the reflections of ‘employees�. These employees are both naturalized human beings, intrinsic to the species in both a generalized evolution perspective as well as being representative of the regression of permanency for Homo Sapiens. The other numerical value completing the fraction, of which the total sum is unknown to the reader, is formed by Humanoids. These are specifically created beings who resemble biologically natural humans while internally being composed of computer bits; catastrophically alien to the motorized systems that they guard. Together they have been ‘employed� to tend to the Six-Thousand Ship & the special items, some of which resemble eggs, until such a time as the ship has reached its destination. My personal opinion is that the logistics of the story are quite literally unimportant. I never wondered why the items were being guarded; why there was a funeral director but no mention of psychiatric professionals; no emphasized desire for details about the ship or the initial moments of the mission at hand. In all, none of the world surrounding those who gave Statements mattered to me. One might note the casualty of mentioning the egg-shaped items that wander in-scene on occasion as the employees begin to lose touch with themselves & each other. It is certainly of value to regard every part of this story, however, during this particular experience I was rather more focused on the philosophy rather than the liquid leaking orifices of the invisible. That being said, this particular aspect of the story lends itself to the questions posed within Dualism. Therefore, one might argue that the presence of items, even ones uncategorized to the reader, weigh enough to ground a mountain. This is seen throughout the Statements wherein the employees personify the inanimate objects within various rooms in a plight to enhance their social connection. At the same time, the employees begin to disconnect from each other both on a grand scale & individually. The expression of love, as an intimate connection, is described as being developed & recognized within the experiences of many. These same individuals who claim to love another also recognize that they do not know that they were made for love or even that they would be able to feel love. This is not an intrinsic experience for Humanoids, this same questioning arises within our species on a daily basis all over the world. It is not uncommon for an individual to regard their experiences or predictions, in tandem, & conclude that what others express or describe as being the emotion of ‘love� is a concept entirely unfamiliar to them. In that same breath, just as in the book, these individuals connect with an aspect of their lives perhaps secretly intimate to them. In one such case, an individual loses the connection they had with someone they considered their friend. This transpires during the rise of the iron curtain; a silence conned around the Humanoid population without any seemingly clear rationale. Another example of this is expressed when someone explains that they really do not like another individual but they care about them, they love them, they worry for their well-being so, begrudgingly the vulnerability of what it means to ‘be in love� is negated to leave room for the possibility of simply caring for another person. One might ask themselves what it means to love another, to love oneself, to be in love. There are ample texts throughout all of humankind that seek to explain this emotion & yet we return to the initial issue; no matter how many examples & possibilities are allotted to the sentiment, there remain among us, those who do not believe themselves able or worthy. The relationship that is presented between Humans & Humanoids reflects the struggle that exists between emotional vulnerability & the required stamina within the social world. This can also be said to be true for physical performance & mental ability. There appears to be little room within our social structure that alleviates the intrinsic need for moments of vulnerability. Within the story, Humans express being tired of the workload & not being able to keep pace with Humanoids as they exceed what is required given their corporeal difference; the database within their cap that allows them to drive forward. There is no healing time permitted for this fact to be digested & sealed. Humans request to be given death in lieu of repose. What is ironic about this plea for death is that it simply accentuates what is being felt by both parties all the while they remain unable to breach the impasse that they have created by their own negligence. Each of the species seeks to be more than what they are. In Humans, we see them attempt to exceed work productivity & to learn to be around one another without necessitating verbal communication to comprehend the rationale or safety within the silence. Humanoids on the other hand are constantly seeking to explore an emotional depth that they were not programmed to experience. There is a constant unease that appears to be felt relating to the sense of self, a personal purpose, ambitions, & the reputation that an individual garners. The characters are left wondering who they are. The distress arising from individuality in comparison to the interconnected relationships that flourish without effort leaves a majority of the employees developing imagined worlds where they can feel free, where they can feel safe, & where they can imagine that they are loved. One such individual imaged herself as the owner of a home she was familiar with while she lived on earth. She vocalizes that in actuality, the home probably belonged to someone else but that fact no longer mattered. She needs the house in this daydream to be hers so that she can pretend all the wonderful things that happen there, in her space. As the story progresses to a close we learn that everyone on the Six-Thousand Ship will perish—they will die. The rise of emotional deviancy has created fear within the community; the desire for violence, the need for heightened emotional responses & the fiery longing to evoke something within the sea of tranquillity results in murder among the employees. For all the time Humans & Humanoids spent together they tethered themselves to inanimate objects rather than each other. Why was it easier for the employees to imagine that the undistinguished inanimate objects needed them? What part of reciprocity shapes the individual to be who they are? How greatly are we mastered by our surroundings? The emphasis on olfactory sense regulates the reminder that the individual experience can be collective. Many people can connect with the specificity which is the smell of a freshly mowed lawn yet, the emotion that this evokes in the person will vary depending on the link to this personal experience. Just as Dualism asks us to distinguish the value, weight, importance, & grandeur of our connection to tangible objects so too does our material body seek to ground the psyche with reminders of home—the place in which we live & grow. Does the Six-Thousand Ship—citizenship in life—require someone to be born from a uterus to be a valid human being? Is imagined love the same as the experience of tactile love, knowing that no two people will ever be able to present the tangible of an invisibly lived emotion? What makes us who we are? What objects shape our world & which objects tear us at the seams? What actions are undertaken to feel tethered, secure, & present versus those that are performed for singular pleasure? When the mind longs for the end, termination of the visual experience, a breach of the stapled building blocks of life; it will deteriorate the self. The remaining Humanoids walk into grassy pastures with the knowledge that they will not be able to return to what they knew. The life they grew to be familiar with, the people they appreciated, the eyes that were tied to string strung from beams, forgotten. It is the immediate knowledge that the world in which we live & the one in which we image ourselves prospering are one & the same that nourishes the philosophy of thought, frustration, & of desire. A special message of gratitude to the illustrious « GirlWithThePinkSkiMask » who recommended to me a book she knew I would love. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Aug 31, 2022
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Sep 01, 2022
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Paperback
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4
| 
| 1646032187
| 9781646032181
| 1646032187
| 4.54
| 26
| unknown
| May 24, 2022
|
it was ok
|
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, theref
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on parental abandonment, financial insecurity, parental neglect, judicial equality, gender norms, political structures, sexism, racism, bigotry, religious freedom, educational equality, & others. Ember & Bernard—nicknamed ‘Amber� & ‘Beetle’—notice something different about their mother during their drive to school one morning. Things aren’t quite right with Sandra, whom the children call by her first name with her support—comfortable with the use of her legal name rather than any of the alternatives. The children must journey through the reflective surface of an old building, into a parallel universe, in an attempt to find their real mother. What ensues is a confrontation of variables; the cruel world of the parallel resembles the comfortable world they knew as their own, with distinct extremism. I want to highlight the reasons for which I included the content warning in this book before moving on into the girth of my review. What is, at surface value, a commentary about societies & the dystopian counterparts that await them, separated only by small choices & decisions, becomes an overall discourse on extremism in a way that leaves the reader very little opportunity to grapple with the subject matter. Having read this book as an adult some of the more nuanced aspects of the story appear quite clear to me but I suspect they might not for a younger reader. Therefore, should this be a book you are endeavouring to pass along to a young reader or one that someone close to you has completed reading, please be aware that the discourse that this book requires—further research & conversations—should be performed so that any younger reader might not leave this story behind without comprehending the nuances of what was written. The reader is introduced to Amber & Beetle in an offhanded way; without dedicated time to weave a reveal of what their family or social lives are like whilst still allowing the reader enough information to form their own understanding of the characters. This is not innately bad & I do think that this succinct approach towards the introduction of the three (3) main characters works towards encouraging a speedy flow of events. The reader can deduce that Amber is sporty, & enjoys friendships but is struggling to find ones with people who respect her values; she is an older sister who has taken on the responsibility of safeguarding her mother to the world around them & this is where my worry towards the approach of the story comes forward. The presentation of Sandra as a single mother is intriguing, coming from the perspective of a grown adult. However, I found much of what she chose to do, distressing & could not help but wonder how this subject matter would be absorbed by those who are actively living through these scenarios—having been one such child myself, once upon a time. Sandra is eccentric & colourful. She values animal rights, & human rights & does a lot for the political community; encouraging people to vote & research their government representatives. Yet, for all the good Sandra does as an individual adult person, these endeavours appear to succeed at the expense of her children’s well-being. Amber & Beetle's reality is troubling. Their mother refuses to keep steady employment which causes them to live through financial insecurity, all of which is put on the shoulders of Amber & Beetle—more so the eldest child who pointedly does not bring up school activities to her mother knowing they can not afford to participate. They eat nothing but cheese sandwiches for lunch, with some little carrots on the side. While supper consists of noodles, every single day. I appreciate that this is a fictional account meant to put pressure on our understanding of societies, but, there are children who live with the burden of their financial situations, every single day & reading this book without being aware of that is very overwhelming. I found it particularly sad to read about Amber’s interpretation of the situation they find themselves in. She voices not trying to counter her mother’s eccentric nature because she’s afraid she will quit her ‘job� as a mother to herself & to Beetle. Having no known memories of their biological father & no secure explanations as to why he is not present in their lives, Amber & Beetle are at the forefront of attempting to protect their mother’s feelings for fear that she will abandon them as well. The representation of all the different kinds of families in the world is very positive. We read about how every family at Amber & Beetle’s school isn’t necessarily the same as the next. This approach is wonderful as it allows every reader to find themselves in the positive representation of reality. In that same breath, one cannot help but feel badly reading about the responsibility that Amber has taken on, as the older sibling, while her mother lives in a world riddled with witches & fairies. Beetle exhibits some characteristics of a person with severe anxiety but this is never touched on whatsoever. What this story would benefit from would be adding further depth to the characters. I appreciate that every single person plays a part in the running of society & therefore also plays an important role within this book but, by the end I realized I knew nothing of any of the characters & this story reads as pedantic rather than genuinely informative. Perhaps this is the point that the author sought to achieve. Presenting a family of ‘Parallels� in place of the main characters showcases how shadow-like they are to each other. What makes an individual unique? How much impact do our choices have on those around us? 'The Parallels' chose to leave their city because it was exhibiting controls that they did not agree with so, they traded places with Amber, Beetle & Sandra against their knowledge. Is it wrong to leave something destructive behind while not attempting to save any of the people who are unknowingly stuck there? The core of this plot is interesting & induces reflectiveness in the reader. I would have appreciated a bit more decorum when presenting some of the extremist beliefs that Sandra exhibited & forced on her children. However, I am, again, left wondering if that was intended. For example, Sandra chooses to be a vegetarian because she does not support the meat industry & therefore even if her children wanted to try meat, they are not permitted to do so because Sandra believes that the practices big corporations & farming institutions take to produce the food is unethical. Yet, there are several religious beliefs that present ethical ways to consume meat. I found it ironic to read about Sandra who presents herself as free-loving & dedicated ‘to the cause�, actively ignoring the alternatives to things she believes are innately the truth. That being said, Amber states that there is one South Asian person in her school year & we read about no other person present in the community whose ethnicity diverges from the one we might rightfully presume to be the main family’s. Therefore, perhaps I should grant Sandra some leeway—maybe she didn’t know that halal meat is not produced the same as fast-food burgers. The lack of diversity in the narrative does render this book to be particular for a very distinct & specific reader. Would a reader—young or old—be unaware of the discrimination faced by their parents who might be in a same sexe relationship? Would a reader who was not White need to be explained that the judicial & policing bodies pay closer attention to them because they’re not White? Therein lies, again, my question—Amber is able to distinguish her reality from those in her class because she is poor; she doesn’t have nearly the same financial situation as her peers & this is distinctly obvious to her. Is the point of this story to find its way into the hands of someone identical to Amber? Or perhaps, this story is meant to be interpreted uniquely per the readers� experiences? The reason for which I ask these questions is that I would have felt very disconnected from this book as a young person. I had no interest in having lessons dictated to me, ones I very obviously already knew. I can imagine I am not the only child in history to have felt this way, which is why I wonder who this book is for. The subject matter is touched on very critically. Creationism is viewed as simplistic & for those of subpar intelligence—as noted while Amber flies through her school assignments. Yet, there are no explanations as to why it is important to understand why certain people choose to follow scientific rationals versus religious beliefs. One is simply presented as being better than the other. Though the topics explored throughout this book are important to discuss they are written very briefly. Due to the short number of pages of which this book is composed, there is little opportunity to simmer on a claim. I appreciate that this is a book that could be read in the hopes of igniting future conversations but, it would not have been negative to add a bit more discussion surrounding these topics so that the reader who may be unaware of social complexities might not feel that, if they eat meat (for example) they are innately in the wrong. With that being said, it was nice to come across a dystopian story for younger readers. I remember when I was first introduced to the genre; I found the subject matter & reflections insightful & intriguing, some of them have nestled into my constant reflections ever since. I should hope that the reader who comes upon this book is gifted with the encouragement to further their own comprehension of the status quo & the ways in which our difference enhance the culture of the collective. Thank you to Edelweiss+, Fitzroy Books & Marcie Roman for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review! ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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May 27, 2022
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May 28, 2022
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Paperback
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3
| 
| B0DWTVG31Z
| 4.18
| 205,234
| 1995
| May 02, 2019
|
it was amazing
|
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, theref
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on suicide, euthanasia, physical deterioration due to illness, & others. The narrator without a name writes to us on papers hidden in a bunker, assumedly kept there to house the invisible puppeteers that rule the world she walks through; ignorantly holding inventory of the bushes, water streams & void of life that crosses her path throughout her daily journey. Yet, at the end, when she has learnt to read, write & reflect on everything that has transpired in her life—desolate, solicitous, hollow, & muted—the narrator has no ill will for the questions that have exceeded the roster of a human’s ability to carry things left unsaid. In this book, the reader finds a story from the perspective of a person without a name as she recalls the years of her life spent in a world that she cannot understand nor are there clues to explain it. This leaves this review a difficult one for me to embark on writing. Where is there a solid place to start when critiquing a piece of work that has at once beautifully painted a landscape that the mind automatically fills with the normalcy we see in our own, yet reminds us swiftly & without qualms that everything we cherish is no longer available to us in this realm? How does one put into words what Harpman has exceedingly done with the human vernacular; communicating in such stellar fashion the empathy one feels for familiarity in such extreme & unfathomable situations? As always, I shall attempt to start at the beginning, as there seems no other place to commence. The narrator of this book is introduced to the reader as she nears the end of her memoir. Having found herself in what we come to recognize & know as a bunker of sorts, she sits within the rooms known to her throughout the later years of her life as a home, & recollects the events that led her to where she is. Having been taken from an original place that she cannot call to mind, alongside 39 other women, the narrator grows to the age of about 14 or 15 in a prison cell. Though it seems that Harpman has described a prison cell, the likes of which I cannot truly call to mind, she has given the reader sufficient details to understand that the place in which all these women live is nothing but scarce & demeaning. This is the first point of praise that I would like to give Harpman. Her uncompromising & unfaltering ability to describe a world that appears—for all intents & purposes—desolate, while simultaneously giving the reader the ability to illustrate a world that is large & overwhelming, is superb. The words employed throughout this book & the prose designated to craft the story are exquisite. I have no doubt that Harpman recognized that one does not need to put forth eternally long & tongue-twisting words to describe what the catatonic emotions & experiences of all the characters within this story were. A true talent with words resides in the mind of the individual who can purpose vocabulary in such a way as to enthral every person with ease. The women who reside in this prison cell have lost most of their memories of the lives they led before their captivity. The reader gleams moments of small reflection upon which the characters seem to hold fond feelings; a marriage to a kind man, children that they loved, the hopes they held for career growth, & the social rules they abided by. The impoverished recollections lead the reader to immediately feel a longing for further information & details, both of which are never granted to us. So much is said with so little. Imminently we are given the opportunity to feel nostalgia for all the darkened memories we hold in our own minds. Just as the women in the prison cell, so too do we hold things in the recesses of our minds that we cannot quite call to the forefront. Suppose someone asked us what life was like prior to this very instant & suppose they asked us to describe in colourful details everything that transpired; how would we go about doing that? Each of the women believes that their experiences or abilities to recall their past lives—the lives they led before being imprisoned—have been altered by force. They do not believe that they have simply forgotten what they experienced by the sheer distance of time but, that someone had been poisoning them; their memories forcefully shadowed into places their minds cannot reach. We are never given confirmation or a refusal of these assumptions as it does not ultimately dictate the weight of the plot for the reader to be explained everything in formulaic reasoning. Suffice it for the reader to know that the happiness they felt within their bones has been stolen from them, replaced with the singular existence they share in the cell. 39 women reside in a prison cell & are prevented from touching, crowding together & are simultaneously permitted no privacy when using the toilet. The employment & threat of violence has kept them submissive to this way of life, one that is contrary to what has come to be known as necessities of human existence. The narrator herself has grown into her teen years without being caressed or coddled; never truly developing a longing for human contact she retains the inmate impulse to seek out the reciprocity of another person. When the cataclysmic event takes place, one that we are never granted an explanation for, the women are free from the cell yet are never free from the imprisonment that took them away from what they loved. This particular aspect of the story is one that I pondered very deeply. Being a person, myself, that does not feel the longing for closeness with another human being—not being drawn to touch or being held, rather not enjoying that practice—I wondered how long I should be able to go on in sustaining that if I were taken at this moment, to live in a cell where I had no free will to choose whether or not I could hug someone else. The narrator saw her formative years drift by in the environment of prevention & control, therefore she knew no different. The adult women, on the other hand, knew what it was like to share in an embrace or to hold someone’s hand; closeness represents a variety of things that are intended to offer comfort & love to another. Would anyone of us be able to see ourselves living solicitous within a group? Many of us do that right now, in this life, where nothing is dictated to us or forced onto our lives such as to the women in this book. Many authors have sought to explain the experience of a person who feels alone among many & I have found it to be personally enjoyable when I find authors who seek the opposite. I appreciate it when someone with the talent for words & crafting of stories, writes about people who are individualized; when a story explores the solitude of a person who is not lonely because they enjoy themselves & they seek not the necessities that others feel drawn to possess. I find these stories oddly comforting & rewarding to read. The human condition is vast in its experiences. I am glad that mine can be found in the pages of a book without the author attempting to elicit sympathy for something that does not pang me. This is not to say that I can speak to everything that the narrator experiences as I found myself feeling a longing to find her bunker & a small hope that someone might suddenly come upon her before her time was up. Why would I feel this way when logic tells me that she is certainly alone in this life? What was it about a nameless person that drew me to feel such a connection? Does reading about a negative situation lead one automatically to sentiments of forlorn sorrow? Does one need to connect with a character in a story to feel empathy for them & their situation or is it enough to recognize the depth of the human psyche’s abilities to understand? Can the reader truly begin to imagine what these women must have felt upon coming upon the other bunkers which housed the prison cells of 39 people each time, all of whom were dead & decomposing? Can one truly understand, without living the experience, what it must be like to wander without purpose or knowledge of where one is meant to go? I have an inkling that this particular part of the story is something many individual readers may relate to. The narrator did not know her world & the reader may feel sorrow for her yet, how much do we know & understand our own world? Some people have gone to the moon & yet, for many people, the universe resides cooped within their property lines. Does this make either situation bad or good? I suppose that it depends on whom you ask & at what point in time, during their lives, you seek them out to ponder the question. In reality, this book merits a full study; deconstructing each experience, the placement of every bush, the defining of every singular thought, yet, I think that every person should be drawn to this story if only to find a part of themselves within the plot. A nameless entity is not unknown, though we cannot put it into words. The narrator, though she does not have a born name—a government identifier, a religious nomenclature—is just as much an individual human being as Anthea, the person she loved. The love that is able to blossom within the relationships that the women share encourages the reader to reflect on their own experiences. Though the world may be bleak & though we cannot always call to mind the things that have brought us happiness, there are always unheard words in the heart, in the mind, that can leave us settled & comforted. When all is said & done, I find myself left in silence; a droning quiet that permits me the time to reflect on every instance that is shared between myself & the narrator. I should hope to find myself reading this story again when the time is right, just as the narrator came across her home when she least expected it, so too do I hope to remember the deliberation & contemplation that was elicited within me upon my first read. Philosophical works do not need to feel overwhelming, though they often leave one feeling debilitated. How can one possibly contemplate every single detail in a single sitting? There is so much to question & connect; too many instances of detail & depth. Without these stories, I should find myself very much resembling the narrator; alone with my thoughts that limit the awareness, I hold of the world, residing in the crevices of my mind. Thank you to Edelweiss+, Transit Books, & Jacqueline Harpman for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review! Special praise for Ros Schwartz & her superbly enthralling translation of the original French text into English. ...more |
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Apr 18, 2022
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Apr 18, 2022
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| 1443466115
| 9781443466110
| B099HCR7SW
| 4.06
| 272,379
| Apr 05, 2022
| Apr 05, 2022
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liked it
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**spoiler alert** For many people, the words of René Descartes have long drowned in the corners of the mind; to have consciousness is a confirmed pres
**spoiler alert** For many people, the words of René Descartes have long drowned in the corners of the mind; to have consciousness is a confirmed presence & yet, what if it’s not? In works of fiction & non-fiction sprinkled throughout the ages, society has asked itself in a multitude of ways what it means to be a human; what constitutes a reality & how the time in which we are alive has any effect on the world around us. It would not be self-deprecating to acknowledge that few human beings set tidal waves in motion; overthrowing everything that the species thought it knew to introduce an entirely new concept or set of understanding. Descartes, Aristotle, Newton, Wordsworth, Proust, Wollstonecraft, Radcliffe et al. are among the very select minority of people that have added substance to the bulk of humanity. Ìý In Mandel’s most recent work we see the age-old question of time presented in a way so as to entice the reader to regard the philosophical pondering of great minds in a simplistic fashion. Through the presentation of multiple timelines set in centuries far apart, the reader is introduced to a handful of characters that are interconnected by their experience with a glitch in ‘the simulationâ€�, also known as life, more specifically the state of time in which they move forward in their consciousness. In the far set future, Gaspery applies to work at the Institute where anomalies in their timeline are sought to be corrected. As we read through the story we come to learn that Gaspery is in fact the reason for said glitch; moving through timelines (centuries, lives, events) with little understanding of the motions set forth by his presence in the interconnectedness that most human beings would express as being ‘a small worldâ€�. Few of us have not come to the realization that the world is a small place. Be it by the fluke meeting of a long-ago relation, a friend we had forgotten about or the joining of people under an otherwise coincidental event or place. Everything feels enormous when you live day-to-day but for Gaspery, as for many people in the non-fictional world, things have a mysterious way of being interlinked even without our knowing. Due to this, I am left feeling conflicted about the presentation of events within this book. How was it possible that a team of scientists who had all the technology & brains at their disposal to study anomalies within timelines, did not think of the possibility that their presence would cause in the lives of those whom they met along the way? They did, of course, consider what is known to us within the Chaos Theory as the Butterfly Effect, as being a probable outcome & seemed to have calculated ways for the timeline to repair itself after a Traveller had made their way through time. However, I cannot speak on the level of calculations they did to ensure that this was concluded as being fact, given that Gaspery creates an insane glitch in five (5) people's lives & their timelines. Therefore, perhaps we are meant to regard the advances of science in the same way as we always have. The human brain is an absolutely fantastic tool & one that has allowed humanity as a whole to advance through multiple setbacks. Medicine, tools, machinery, vocabulary, technology, nutrition, food, etc. have all been areas that have seen huge increases in success & benefit to the species due to the dedicated work of scientists throughout the ages. Yet, we find ourselves unable to calculate the odds for certain things & see tragedy befall many an unsuspecting victim. It is therefore not far-fetched to assume that the technology & scientific tools available to Zoey, Gaspery’s sister, were prone to failure, such as every aspect of human advancement is. Ìý Another aspect of this book that I will acknowledge as being quite annoying was Gaspery’s decision to save Olive. In his training to become a Traveller, Gaspery was explicitly told that he would not be at liberty to influence the decisions of those he met while travelling. During this mission, he would meet Olive who would be on her final book tour on Earth & who would die due to the most recent spread of Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) over the globe. Instead of taking that information to heart, Gaspery convinces himself that he needs to warn Olive to stop her tour & return to the Moon planet on which she lives. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if things truly worked so effortlessly? I couldn’t help but feel confused as Olive rushed back home as though a viral infection wouldn’t have already had the opportunity to infect her body while she travelled the globe. At this point in the story, the human species had already lived through multiple pandemics. Why was Olive acting without logic or reason? I would love to say that we as a species learn from our mistakes but there are too many of us in numbers to make an accurate account of everything we continue to do wrong even when fact proves us to be doing the contrary of what we know to be right. During the Black Death, people smeared blood on their skin, sharing fluids in an attempt to respect the directions given to them. One might look at this type of behaviour & think it ridiculous. Yet, during Coronavirus (COVID-19) people refused to wear masks because they were being imposed upon them for the greater sum’s benefit. We circle around the same repeated decisions, most of which will be looked upon as making little sense; one might even say that many of the decisions done by humanity were stupid. However, that is simply par for the course when it comes to human behaviour. We make mistakes, we are in earnest, we make errors & we try our best. Such as the world turns in a circle so too do our habits & tendencies. This leaves me feeling that there is little within the story that I can critique in terms of accuracy reflected in the charactersâ€� actions. Of course, someone along the line would have wanted Edwin to lead a full & stress-free life. Having fought in WWI, seen the man he secretly loved killed in a bombing raid, have had both his brothers killed in battle & seen his life meander through the impeding Spanish Influenza; Gaspery telling him that the glitch he witnessed was not a bout of insanity but was, in fact, real, might have been done in good faith but, ultimately changes nothing. Is it wrong to want to lend a helping hand or share in hope, even if it is short-lived? I suppose it is not. Ìý With all that being said, this was not a horrible book. The prose is lovely & it was written in a style that I very much enjoy. However, none of the characters spoke to me with very much depth. There seemed to be inconsistencies within the story as well which made it difficult to reason if this was simply an editing error or if the characters were given so little to say that nothing more but a repetition would suffice. For example, when Gaspery is meeting with his sister, Zoey, she tells him that Edwin became a soldier in WWI then when he is doing training at the Institute he sees a picture of Edwin in uniform & expresses that he didn’t know that Edwin had been a soldier. Another example of this is when Gaspery tells Olive that she needs to leave Earth & get back safely to her family. She automatically assumes this interaction means she was destined to die in the SARS outbreak yet, when she is laying hidden on her lawn & Zoey & Gaspery meet in the street, she expresses shock at the fact that she was destined to die in the pandemic. Ìý Discussions regarding post-apocalyptic literature felt a bit tedious. I appreciate that thousands of years down the line we might not have the ability to keep track of all the literature that was ever written yet, this feels improbable. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of stories regarding the ‘end of the worldâ€� type stories, Olive is nowhere near unique or original in her plot efforts. It became a bit tedious to read about her interview answers & process towards her most recent book, all the while her first book centred around a subject matter that had also been written about a hundred times over. Of course, I appreciate the irony of personal experience wherein an individual might feel like an anomaly in terms of their encounters throughout life but, it felt odd that all those years later no one would have remembered something so monumental as the dystopian novels, “Brave New Worldâ€� (1932) by Aldous Huxley for example. Ìý As a final thought, I wonder what the logic behind framing a Traveller for an Earth inhabitants crime is. If we are to assume, as we are led to, that the crime in question is unsolved or near being solved (say in the case presented wherein the shooter is running away but could easily be fingerprinted)—what happens to the actual criminal? By substituting a Traveller in the place of an actual criminal the Institute is simply opening the door to alterations in the timelines on an endless basis. As proven by the example that was utilized in the final chapters, the Institute is not keeping a tally of victimless crimes, or shall we say crimes involving a rather low level of violence (ex. the theft of a parked car without passengers). Therefore, if the shooter, in this case, ran away & became a serial murderer what are the impacts of that on the timeline? Had they considered that or are we to link their original errors towards timeline repair as them also lacking in forethought when it came to substituting Travellers? Ìý When all is said & done this was a good book. Exploring the definition of an end of the world was intriguing & I enjoyed how it was approached. So many instances that feel like the end of the world could be classified as just that, for example, the loss of a child. Yet many times we say, ‘it’s not the end of the worldâ€� in an effort to comfort ourselves. This is not wrong either. Simply, I think it’s well placed to encourage the reader to regard the events in their own life as being substantial enough to validate in whatsoever capacity they have come forward as being. If you are not interested in reading something that feels overtly familiar & has been done several times before, I would encourage you to seek out Classic literature, specifically the works by monumental philosophers. There are also movies that present similar themes to the ones within the book such as: “The Truman Showâ€� (1998) & “Mr. Nobodyâ€� (2009). One has many options when it comes to delving deeper into Descartes’s philosophy & I should hope that this book encourages many readers to do just that. Ìý Thank you to NetGalley, HarperCollins Canada, & Emily St. John Mandel for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review! ...more |
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not set
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Apr 07, 2022
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Apr 07, 2022
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Kindle Edition
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6
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| 0374298793
| 9780374298791
| 0374298793
| 3.66
| 650
| Nov 10, 2015
| Nov 10, 2015
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it was ok
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**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, theref
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on the sexual exploitation of a minor, domestic sexual violence, incest, the death of a minor, the rape of a minor, graphic violence, the death of an animal, suicidal ideation, terminal illness, the consequences of war, & others. What are the consequences of a lost thought? Can the brain call to mind the concept it was hoping to think or are the parameters of such a practice lost to the grey matter, swampy in its quicksand—slurping memories like Artax from the 1984 adaptation of “The NeverEnding Story�? What changes when we lose something that felt innate? Does the body harvest a memory in the muscle in the hopes of reproducing a series that plays like plastic pieces on a Monopoly board? Who are we as individuals when we have no concept of ourselves? What role do we play in the filmography of the species; one tethered by bloodshed redder than the rose’s thorn that slit the wrists of the gardener. Memory is a complicated subject because we rely so heavily on its keeper to reveal to us the secrets of its making. People lose the ability to recognize themselves in mirrors & yet request their reflections to hold the agility of exposure—flashcard truths & debonair explanations of themselves. Perhaps, it is ironic to think ourselves of such great intelligence that we might look inward & find what we cannot name & understand it. Within this book, Renner sought to pose many introspective questions to both himself & to whomsoever chose the story as material to read. To his own detriment, he included himself in the plausibility of the unknown whilst attempting to guide the reader through a series of which only he knew as lies. In this book's passages, I found myself drifting from casual annoyance to delicately luscious enjoyment. Pondering in a teeter-totter motion how I might review this book when all was finished & I came to the end of the make-believe world that so resembles my own. Ultimately, I remain in a catatonic stance. It is difficult to know where to begin & even more troublesome to attempt to explain how emaciating I found all of this to be. All the while, I wondered why everything happened the way that it did for, certainly, nothing in life is as difficult as global peace—that is simply not the world we are part of. Yet, here we have the Great Forgetting, a promise to forget everything of terror that the human species ever advocated, to move into life with a fresh set of eyes & a slate so clean, one might call upon a smoothness of brain as the only route to arrive at such sentiments. To begin, we explore the movement that set forth the implausibility of forced forgetfulness; the machine. This book is complicated to review because it ultimately studies revisionist history. It is of no surprise or shock to anyone that the history that we know to be true is only so because of the people who declared it. In a combined statement that has seeped itself into the minds of those who both, understand it & acknowledge its neutrality of truth; Robespierre’s sorrowful parables fly like magnolias in the wind. As Churchill stood in the House of Commons & restated a similar sentiment we see the trajectory of everything this book seeks to escape; the cycle. In the American world of this story, the Second World War was the cataclysm that sent humanity over the edge. Why was it not a war prior or the millions of battles fought on home soil? Why was it not the terrible acts of brutality & violence that saw such a war take place? Perhaps because the greatest villain was not the American people themselves but, a foreign entity. This I cannot state with any certainty but it is one that, ironically or not, is quite heavy-handed in its base in reality. Many people might recall the adage “stranger danger� that was initiated in the United States in the 1960s as a means of reminding children that anyone they did not know was a person unsafe to them. Unfortunately, for all those who were drowned in the untruths of such a stance, the reality revealed itself to be much more morose & detrimental. The home court places the antagonists, the villains, the evils, in the centre field & cheers for them like brothers in arms. Welcoming the perception that the people to whom we are closest cannot be the evils we see out in the world because that would make the world a very unsafe place, indeed. Just as the series of events within this story poses the same premise—that the destruction of safety, amicability, unity, & peace was brought on by the leading hands of a stranger—so too does the story cycle through the demerit of truth. The characters who endeavoured to enforce a mass forgetting did admit to participating in the evils that were taking place, though it seems, reluctantly. Perhaps, I am too gorged by the habitual tenderness that we slash like veins in the forearm but, so much of this story was difficult to stomach. Whether that was intentional or not, it seems that a greater portion of this narrative simply rehashed hard-done beliefs by people who do not venture any further than their own backyard. As wonderful as it was to see Indigenous peoples play a crucial role in the mass migration that saw them venture to another world to remain in peace, these characters were nothing but a reflected means of tossing the old to welcome the new—much as they experienced in real life. Might I reflect upon this instance as one that plays the Stradivarius to a crowd of tone-deaf onlookers as something of a great joke? I would like to think that Renner knew better than to simply have ‘Native Americans� tossed here & there within the book to act as cushions to the terrors but, I suppose he presented this aspect much as it is present within my world; as a truth revealed in its consistency but rather ignored in it’s lack of appeal to the masses. In that same breath, it was interesting to read a revisionist account of what might have happened had the Treaties been respected. These tribes of people were granted the opportunity to move along so that the transporters of a new age might act on a scale that saw them revolutionize their own perspectives. Did these actors see fit to change what had certainly been a terribly brutal intertwining relationship because they were tired of the violence or because they could not be bothered any longer? This leads me to my next point, who decides? When I referenced Robespierre & Churchill it was not in vain. These men vocalized a truth that is often viewed as too honest, too truthful, too much a neon light over a murky swamp. Victory is known by those who title the fight. Seldom is the truth a one-way street un-walked by prior feet, muddied by the shore whence they drowned the lesser man. If one were to hope that every world leader might come together, even be in the same room, one is wandering in a dream-like state. What would have realistically led so many world leaders to the conclusion that the violence was too much? Whose history are we meant to be referencing when posed with the possibility of a Great Forgetting? Are the American people the deciders? Are we to accept that whatever they say goes; when too much has become too much for them, then, we are at an impasse? What about the people who had been victims in States uncharacteristically terrorized by the same actions that the Americans sought to evade from their reputation? Might this question have been posed when the alleged world leaders gathered to talk? I cannot believe that every single Chancellor, Prime Minister, Chief, & Chairman, came together to sit at a round table like King Arthur & decide that what had taken place was enough. I say this because we see today what happens when we believe that enough has been enough, that war need not be fought, & that violence should die like the carcasses of the brutalized. It happens again & it will keep happening. Who decided that November 11 was a day of remembrance & date which would forever highlight the end of wars? Certainly not those who came for a round two; those who were axed at the heels for their differences & faulted for being the losers. I am not here to necessarily take sides in the great expanse of human history but it is simply impractical to imagine a world without nuance. The idea of a worldwide forgetting of history so that it might be re-written with the possibility of altering human fate is, in & of itself, a complex experiment to ponder & one that requires a larger word count than I am permitted. I am not altogether convinced that a mass understanding might be underway should the topic be broached & therefore, I shall leave off here. I truly enjoyed this story, very much, up until Renner showed his hand & I became annoyed at the crassly corny nature of the plot. Firstly, had this remained a simple play on probability, I would have adored this story to the fullest. Unfortunately, it seems that the author defaulted on his own doubts when leading the reader through catacombs. Why did this story necessitate a love triangle that brought nothing but a cob of stupidity to the conclusion of the story? There was nothing redeeming about Samantha’s character but she was seemingly presented as a nucleus to the whole team. Much of what transpired vis a vis the cast of primary characters was to the detriment of the narrative at play. I do not think that any of the characters were of high enough mental intellect to fathom the Goliath of a problem they were seeking to resolve. To whom are we to reference when deciding what is right & what is wrong in the world? The group led by Jack Felter never wondered what their presence might bring the group of inhabitants of the island—they did not care to wonder. Never is there a moment when the characters pose resistance or present themselves as formidable adversaries—everything is too easy. Their decisions are juvenile & defecate on the complexity of what a more cursive reader might be able to knight in their minds. I found it brilliantly annoying to watch Jack follow suit as those men who decided that the Great Forgetting was worthwhile. This was, most probably, intentional. I would like to grant Renner the benefit of the doubt & believe that the characters were not ill-equipped because he could not write them into dimensional Spartans but because the majority of human beings are coins in the Trevi Fountain. I would have wanted less casual promiscuity in the relationship between Tony, Sam, & Jack & more in terms of their depth as individuals. Why was Tony self-serving? Why was Jack not considered self-serving when every action he took was for his own personal goal—his own idea of high morality? Why was Sam regarded as a chairman of the fragility of mankind & not as a vapid person who sought the validation of skin? Who is Nils? What made him the middle piece in a landscape puzzle that fit everything seamlessly? I didn’t know any of these people well enough to care about them & yet, it was them I was meant to follow through adventure & turmoil. The final scenes of this book saw me almost abandon my reading. I cannot find the terminology in my vocabulary to express how utterly ridiculous these scenes were. I found myself further intrigued by Scopes & could not have cared less about the entire terrorist attacks that the gang convinced themselves were the only way they would see their goals achieved. Again, maybe the point was to see Jack presented with two instances in which a large number of people would die; it was his decision that killed them. In the first instance when Scopes explained that the habitual cycle of human behaviour would see millions perish Jack was appalled. Yet, he chose an action that had zero guarantees of keeping anyone safe. He willingly drove an aeroplane into buildings he knew had thousands of people inside. When all is said & done, there were too many aspects of this book I did not think worked seamlessly into the narrative. Did Mark need to be a devious & perpetual predator against children? What conversation would have taken place between Jean & Sam after she learnt that Jean was having relations with her sexually predatory brother? Tony’s disappearance is a cinch in a long line of grievances that pose no obstacles. Samantha removing money from the accounts as though no one would know it was her was laughable—this is not, the Dark Ages, ever so much as the Great Forgetting would like them to think that it was. Had the novel followed suit with something along the veins of “The Lake House� (2006) I think that Renner might have had a true masterpiece on his hands. The story offers the reader enough information to recognize that everything they are being told is wrong & most probably is existing in the same instance as a truth; seven impossibilities like wonders, all too superb to believe. Instead, we have a question that is posed & an answer within the mind of the reader, should they seek to find it. What happens to a memory when it is lost? Does a forgotten thought, feeling, smell, experience, sound, or action ever disappear; can we really forget who we are? ...more |
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not set
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Sep 30, 2022
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Mar 16, 2022
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Hardcover
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| 1250828678
| 9781250828675
| 1250828678
| 4.12
| 1,506
| Aug 18, 2021
| Aug 18, 2021
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it was ok
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**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, theref
**spoiler alert** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on terminal illness, grief, abuse of power, forced incarceration, & others. Ingrid is an arborist who boasts of a love for mother earth that is so pure, the only thing to come in the way of her quest to protect the trees is a chance encounter with a woman at a liquor store. Perchance if you believe in fate, the alignment of stars, & the universe pinning for your success, you might appreciate the probability of Ingrid’s encounter with Claire, a famous author who is now caretaker to the very last remaining forest on planet earth. With staunch faceless villains & violent actions of neglect, this story tumult’s off course to be a sappy romance purporting the messaging that specific communities of people have believed for all time. At the core of this story is a message worth hearing, worth heeding, & worth respecting. Unfortunately, the bulk of the mass is consumed by an arduous layer of grizzle, seeping its white claws into the moral until it is drowned dead. As this week was mine to select a story, my selection was self-serving & dull; pointedly knocking another read from my book list whilst also providing my reading buddy, « Scott », & myself with another set of words with little emotional value to the sum. Initially, this story endeavours to share the importance of nature & the role that the human species plays in ensuring that it is respected & tended to, alongside our existence. Yet, within this, there is a main character who boasts of so much praise for herself & her ‘just� cause whilst simultaneously doing none of what any sane person might do when faced with the same circumstances. To begin at the start, the encounter mentioned between Ingrid & Claire is marvellously romantic if you are so inclined, yet is the cataclysm for Ingrid’s downfall. Claire is charged with caring for the last remaining forest on earth. Every tree in this forest is promised to be chopped down in a bid to print stories. I suppose we are to believe that technology is non-existent in this realm as the value of a paperback book exceeds that of an oxygen-producing tree. Though I appreciate the value of a book, I should never place it above the globe on which I live. After all, stories have been shared for many moons in a variety of ways, without needing to destroy other living things in the process. Ingrid begs Claire for a job in the forest given the uselessness of her profession in a world where Borealis has become obsolete. This is a tad less romantic than the long-drawn-out eye contact but, I digress. Throughout all of the years that Ingrid worked at the site & with the knowledge that at the end of a certain number of years all of the trees would be cut down, she never once planted a tree. In lieu of proactive action, Ingrid focused on her marriage to Claire—whom she loved very dearly, evidenced by the repeated times this circumvents the plot. Why, in all the 50+ years that Ingrid was working in the forest did she never seek to ensure that the crop of trees that were there grew in numbers? The arrival of the governing body muddies this story into a satirical take on plausible events. I can appreciate that the government in any sector of the world is not necessarily transparent in their plans. However, the process by which Ingrid attempts to convince us that these folks are the epitome of evil incarnate does nothing but draw her closer to their group. After all, both parties are self-serving; both parties ignore the trees. Perhaps the point of this story was to highlight that in the fights & squabbles, the victim remains the loser. Perhaps we are meant to view Ingrid as someone who wanted to believe herself to be better than she was. I cannot say for certain, I am not the author. I can say that the messaging gets lost within this story, leaving it to have very few redeeming features. This story was published in 2021, by this time there have been ample tales which explore the dystopian world that dramatizes some of our more acute traits. Nothing in this story is unique, save the stories within the trees. Yet, one might visit a variety of communities & understand that they have believed this to be true for millennia. Therefore what does this story bring to the literary world? What interesting take does the author purport to support the goal? Rather than present a dreary & devastating story of loss, intertwined with the drum of the lonely human heart, Shepherd seethes into the written word an abundance of lard; excess unneeded in the treacherous heat of the climatically changing world. If you would like to read this story, please visit this ...more |
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Oct 21, 2022
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Mar 06, 2022
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ebook
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| 0451526341
| 9780451526342
| B0D7LQMF4N
| 4.00
| 4,243,165
| Aug 17, 1945
| Apr 1996
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liked it
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This story probably had more of an impact in its early days, reading it in 2020 wasn't so shocking. Though I do understand the comparisons that Orwell
This story probably had more of an impact in its early days, reading it in 2020 wasn't so shocking. Though I do understand the comparisons that Orwell was making between his fictional characters & the real-life people who performed the actions he wrote about, I wasn't shocked or truly enticed. I had done previous (personal) research regarding the events & the people involved in them so, when it came time to read this book, I felt as though I was simply reading a quaint 'secret' retelling of them. I would still say that this book is worth the read as Orwell is a talented writer however, if you've done your research or are generally familiar with the Revolution(s) you might find this to be a simple afternoon read versus a revealing story. ...more |
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Oct 13, 2020
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Oct 13, 2020
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Mass Market Paperback
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| 0060929871
| 9780060929879
| 0060929871
| 3.99
| 1,976,694
| 1932
| Sep 01, 1998
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liked it
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A book which was taught to many of us throughout the years & one which I am sure many of us found to be less than thrilling. I cannot say that my opin
A book which was taught to many of us throughout the years & one which I am sure many of us found to be less than thrilling. I cannot say that my opinion has much changed since I last read this book. The majority of the themes explored are approached in an extremist fashion, though I suppose that was the intention. Regardless of the fact that I wasn't a very big fan of this story, I could not help but appreciate the care that Huxley put forth when crafting this story. One can very well dislike this story for simplistic reasons. However, when I read a book I try & think about the work that has gone into ensuring that it found its way to the reader, even if I am not the target audience of such a book. One can appreciate the author's efforts & dedication without necessarily adoring the story in question. With that, I will acknowledge that the dialogue was conducive, detailed & relevant. Though the text might heighten feelings of discomfort, I knew the world in which the story took place. The author did not require me to bend my imagination backwards & round to immerse myself in the fictional world. The storyline is clear & not excessively detailed to the point where I might lose interest in the redundancy of the phrases. The characters each fit their role perfectly & have a place in the story as a whole. The overall flow of the narrative was wonderfully easy to follow & I had no trouble becoming immersed in its entirety. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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not set
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Apr 28, 2020
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Dec 27, 2019
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Paperback
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