Sunday, May 30, 2004
48 Shades of Brown - Nick Earls
This was an ex-library book that my Mum brought and is actually inscribed by the author. 'Stay less anxious than this guy.' - it refers to the main character, a 16 year old boy whose parents are spending the year in Geneva, leaving him to live in Brisbane with his older cousin and her flatmate. From my perspective this guy wasn't that anxious. Well, for the most part he was less anxious than me. His thoughts were not always logical, but what 16 year old boy would remain logical when thrown into a university share house.
Nick Earls is one of Brisbane's most well known authors (I have previously read a collection of his short stories). His face is on a series of council ads and one of his novels has been adapted for stage and is quite successful here. ( Zigzag Street if you are interested)
He writes in a very casual tone, telling stories about everyday people with everyday problems. The stories are usually set in Brisbane, which is an interesting experience. I think that in Australia we get so used to reading stories that are set in the US and Europe that it becomes weird to read about places that you know. I have been to the pubs he talks about; sat near the lake that is the centre of an important scene; and could recognize all the landmarks mentioned on his trip from the airport. In one way this was good, I could easily identify with the imagery and flesh it out, but on the downside it removes any real chance for escapism. I have no real interest in reading about the guy who lives next door to me.
When I read, I want to be reading about people who are different from me; live in exotic locations; lead interesting lives. This book was about a nervous sixteen year old going through high school in Brisbane while living with an older female cousin and another female flat mate. It was light-hearted, even funny in places, but the uninteresting navel-gazing was not that stimulating. It is intensely introspective, it made me feel shallow, as if I should be thinking deeper, more original thoughts, complete with snappy metaphors and vivid imagery.
Quotable Quotes –
In reference to a bed squeaking during sex in the next room (a scenario I am sure that most people who have lived in shared accommodation are familiar with) – “If lungs were made of chicken wire, this is the noise that asthma would make.”
A light read, and not a total waste of time, just not up my alley.
Nick Earls is one of Brisbane's most well known authors (I have previously read a collection of his short stories). His face is on a series of council ads and one of his novels has been adapted for stage and is quite successful here. ( Zigzag Street if you are interested)
He writes in a very casual tone, telling stories about everyday people with everyday problems. The stories are usually set in Brisbane, which is an interesting experience. I think that in Australia we get so used to reading stories that are set in the US and Europe that it becomes weird to read about places that you know. I have been to the pubs he talks about; sat near the lake that is the centre of an important scene; and could recognize all the landmarks mentioned on his trip from the airport. In one way this was good, I could easily identify with the imagery and flesh it out, but on the downside it removes any real chance for escapism. I have no real interest in reading about the guy who lives next door to me.
When I read, I want to be reading about people who are different from me; live in exotic locations; lead interesting lives. This book was about a nervous sixteen year old going through high school in Brisbane while living with an older female cousin and another female flat mate. It was light-hearted, even funny in places, but the uninteresting navel-gazing was not that stimulating. It is intensely introspective, it made me feel shallow, as if I should be thinking deeper, more original thoughts, complete with snappy metaphors and vivid imagery.
Quotable Quotes –
In reference to a bed squeaking during sex in the next room (a scenario I am sure that most people who have lived in shared accommodation are familiar with) – “If lungs were made of chicken wire, this is the noise that asthma would make.”
A light read, and not a total waste of time, just not up my alley.
Monday, May 24, 2004
Waylander - David Gemmell
I have been meaning to read one of David Gemmell's books for quite some time. (Although I do have a suspicion that I may have actually read one at some stage.) There are two reasons for my interest. 1 - He is acclaimed as the king of heroic fantasy, and heroic fantasy is my staple mind candy; the book equivalent of an action flick. 2 - Most of his books are stand-alones. In a genre dominated by trilogies, I think his ability to finish a novel in one book is admirable. Many fantasy stories are stretched into trilogies to please publishers and editors when they really only needed one book to tell the story, or at most two. Why are series always trilogies? If the number of books written was solely dependent upon the story then shouldn't we see more duologies (duets? What do you call a series of two books? A trilogy in two parts - Douglas Adams style?) or even quadrologies.
The title character is an assassin who left the army after his wife and children were murdered. Embittered by this he turns his back on the world, yadda, yadda, yadda. While retrieving his stolen horse from a small band of thieves he reluctantly saves a tortured, pacifist priest.
They in turn manage to save a young woman and some children in her care.
It was more character driven than what I was looking for, and I think that forces the plot to be a little slower than it should have been.
Good book, but nothing out of the ordinary.
[Note] - I actually managed to let this review sit in draft form for more than a month. Too much time has passed since I read it for me to properly fix up the review, so you'll have to put up with the clumsiness. On a personal note the last two weeks have been insane, and there doesn't seem to be much chance of free time this weekend. But I will get back here when I can, and when I find enough time to actually read - lunch hours and a chapter before I collapse at night is not really enough of a fix, but what can you do?
The title character is an assassin who left the army after his wife and children were murdered. Embittered by this he turns his back on the world, yadda, yadda, yadda. While retrieving his stolen horse from a small band of thieves he reluctantly saves a tortured, pacifist priest.
They in turn manage to save a young woman and some children in her care.
It was more character driven than what I was looking for, and I think that forces the plot to be a little slower than it should have been.
Good book, but nothing out of the ordinary.
[Note] - I actually managed to let this review sit in draft form for more than a month. Too much time has passed since I read it for me to properly fix up the review, so you'll have to put up with the clumsiness. On a personal note the last two weeks have been insane, and there doesn't seem to be much chance of free time this weekend. But I will get back here when I can, and when I find enough time to actually read - lunch hours and a chapter before I collapse at night is not really enough of a fix, but what can you do?
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Exquisite Corpse - Poppy Z Brite
Wow!
It is going to take a while to digest this, but I really felt like writing about it immediately after finishing it.
It was grizly, gruesome, exquisite, stomach-turning, vivid, disturbing, fascinating, perverted, wonderful.
Definitely not for the weak of heart. Way too much gay sex for my liking, but the amazing imagery both repulses and *searches for appropriate verb* attracts, fascinates, absorbs , I don't know. I can also read it more easily after being exposed to LOTR slash.
As I am writing this a NIN song that actually gets mentioned in the book ("Something I Can Never Have" for those who are interested) came on my random playlist . Freaky. Good song though.
The novel follows four intertwined stories. Three (Jay, Tran, and Luke) are told from third person, and one (Andrew) from first person. The shift from third person to first person was interesting as you immediately knew you were back in Andrew's perspective without having to garner a hint from the prose.
Jay and Andrew are serial killers preying on young gay men. Their urge to kill is closely linked to their sexual urge, as well as other less savoury things.
I wonder sometimes how horror managed to steal a disproportionate number of the cool words in the English language. I mean it is hard not to write some chilling stuff when you have access to words the quality of putrescent, foetid, sepulchre, and others. But it is the way they're woven that allows me to overcome my gag reflex and languish. Lovecraft had this effect as well, but his imagery is much more abstract, less violent, less sexual.
I realise that this post may be completely disjointed, but I really enjoyed the book, and am currently really enjoying the Glen Fiddich.
A good book, and a good scotch, two wonderfully warm buzzes.
Life is good.
It is going to take a while to digest this, but I really felt like writing about it immediately after finishing it.
It was grizly, gruesome, exquisite, stomach-turning, vivid, disturbing, fascinating, perverted, wonderful.
Definitely not for the weak of heart. Way too much gay sex for my liking, but the amazing imagery both repulses and *searches for appropriate verb*
As I am writing this a NIN song that actually gets mentioned in the book ("Something I Can Never Have" for those who are interested) came on my random playlist . Freaky. Good song though.
The novel follows four intertwined stories. Three (Jay, Tran, and Luke) are told from third person, and one (Andrew) from first person. The shift from third person to first person was interesting as you immediately knew you were back in Andrew's perspective without having to garner a hint from the prose.
Jay and Andrew are serial killers preying on young gay men. Their urge to kill is closely linked to their sexual urge, as well as other less savoury things.
I wonder sometimes how horror managed to steal a disproportionate number of the cool words in the English language. I mean it is hard not to write some chilling stuff when you have access to words the quality of putrescent, foetid, sepulchre, and others. But it is the way they're woven that allows me to overcome my gag reflex and languish. Lovecraft had this effect as well, but his imagery is much more abstract, less violent, less sexual.
I realise that this post may be completely disjointed, but I really enjoyed the book, and am currently really enjoying the Glen Fiddich.
A good book, and a good scotch, two wonderfully warm buzzes.
Life is good.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Death Sentence - Don Watson
A very well written and thought provoking book. It looks at the decay in public language that had its beginnings in marketing and managerialism but has now become endemic in our communications, especially that of politicians and government agencies.
Don Watson was Paul Keating's speech writer and wrote Keating's biography - Recollections of a Bleeding Heart. (Paul Keating was Australian treasurer from 1983 until 1991 when he became Prime Minister until 1996)
As an essay its major themes are similar to a well known essay by George Orwell -
Politics and the English Language
The book is filled with quotes in sidebars and as footnotes. These highlight examples of poor public language as well as examples of the clear, lucid, and beautiful writing that we should all aspire to.
Think about how often you have seen the some of the following words in company reports and mission statements. Think about if the words actually hold any meaning any more, or if their meaning has been eviscerated by overuse.
outcomes, enhance, committment, accountability, transparency, core business, core promises, closure, benchmark, value adding, continuously improve, world class, ideology, paradigm, vital role, moral clarity, implement, empower, move forward.
The problem not only exists with the use of such words by companies and politicians, but also with the media's unthinking parroting that has led to the decay of the language. If the media would unrelentingly hound public figures to say what they mean, and answer questions as asked, rather than pandering to some agenda, then the journey back to clear language would have begun.
The difficulty with a book of this type, and a review of this book is that it is so easy and almost instictive to relax into the use of public language. I know that significant portions of what I write on this blog are typed without thinking. In my defense I am not being paid to write this, and am often surfing the net at the same time so my thought process is not concentrated. But it is this exact casualness with the written word that has led us into this problem. It is simple (not 'all too easy')to set up your own blog and unthinkingly (as I do) post your opinion onto the web. This is then read by other bloggers and the poor, banal language perpetuates. I remember reading somewhere that a few decades ago the average college graduate could be expected to have a vocabulary in the vicinity of 60,000 words. Now the average is closer to 20,000. I find this alarming, and worse, realise that I am part of the problem. My vocabulary is perhaps broader than average, but is still lacking. Ignorance appals me, my own more than anyone elses.
There are just so many thoughts from this book that are worth pursuing. But instead of making you suffer through my mediocre treatment I suggest you read the book.
Once on paper, words assume a horrifyingly concreteness. All the beautiful fluidity of thought is gone, replaced by rows of squalid and humourless squiggles. Yet these squiggles (this is the horrifying part) have somehow become 'your idea' . . . 'If you want your idea to get better', they say,'you will have to deal with us.' But you are already realising as you stare at them, that your idea is utterly vapid - and you haven't even had it yet. Louis Menand New Yorker.
Don't you hate it when someone takes an idea that you have been stewing in your brain for some time and then expresses it in the most perfect way that leaves you feeling both inadequate and ignorant.
The limits of my language mean the limits of my world - Ludwig Wittgenstein
Myths are tempting to those who are in a position to manipulate their fellow human beings, because myth is sacred, and what is sacred cannot be questioned. That's where their power comes from. They simplify and provide meaning without the need for reason. . . Cliches are the myths of language.
What is written without effort is usually read without pleasure.
Television has made dictatorship impossible, but democracy unbearable.
And to finish off, some classic George W Bush quotes, as he perfectly engenders the public's disinterest in thoughtful language.
You teach a child to read and he or her will be able to pass a literacy test.
More and more of our imports come from overseas.
I've been misunderestimated
The family is where our wings take dream.
Don Watson was Paul Keating's speech writer and wrote Keating's biography - Recollections of a Bleeding Heart. (Paul Keating was Australian treasurer from 1983 until 1991 when he became Prime Minister until 1996)
As an essay its major themes are similar to a well known essay by George Orwell -
Politics and the English Language
The book is filled with quotes in sidebars and as footnotes. These highlight examples of poor public language as well as examples of the clear, lucid, and beautiful writing that we should all aspire to.
Think about how often you have seen the some of the following words in company reports and mission statements. Think about if the words actually hold any meaning any more, or if their meaning has been eviscerated by overuse.
outcomes, enhance, committment, accountability, transparency, core business, core promises, closure, benchmark, value adding, continuously improve, world class, ideology, paradigm, vital role, moral clarity, implement, empower, move forward.
The problem not only exists with the use of such words by companies and politicians, but also with the media's unthinking parroting that has led to the decay of the language. If the media would unrelentingly hound public figures to say what they mean, and answer questions as asked, rather than pandering to some agenda, then the journey back to clear language would have begun.
The difficulty with a book of this type, and a review of this book is that it is so easy and almost instictive to relax into the use of public language. I know that significant portions of what I write on this blog are typed without thinking. In my defense I am not being paid to write this, and am often surfing the net at the same time so my thought process is not concentrated. But it is this exact casualness with the written word that has led us into this problem. It is simple (not 'all too easy')to set up your own blog and unthinkingly (as I do) post your opinion onto the web. This is then read by other bloggers and the poor, banal language perpetuates. I remember reading somewhere that a few decades ago the average college graduate could be expected to have a vocabulary in the vicinity of 60,000 words. Now the average is closer to 20,000. I find this alarming, and worse, realise that I am part of the problem. My vocabulary is perhaps broader than average, but is still lacking. Ignorance appals me, my own more than anyone elses.
There are just so many thoughts from this book that are worth pursuing. But instead of making you suffer through my mediocre treatment I suggest you read the book.
Once on paper, words assume a horrifyingly concreteness. All the beautiful fluidity of thought is gone, replaced by rows of squalid and humourless squiggles. Yet these squiggles (this is the horrifying part) have somehow become 'your idea' . . . 'If you want your idea to get better', they say,'you will have to deal with us.' But you are already realising as you stare at them, that your idea is utterly vapid - and you haven't even had it yet. Louis Menand New Yorker.
Don't you hate it when someone takes an idea that you have been stewing in your brain for some time and then expresses it in the most perfect way that leaves you feeling both inadequate and ignorant.
The limits of my language mean the limits of my world - Ludwig Wittgenstein
Myths are tempting to those who are in a position to manipulate their fellow human beings, because myth is sacred, and what is sacred cannot be questioned. That's where their power comes from. They simplify and provide meaning without the need for reason. . . Cliches are the myths of language.
What is written without effort is usually read without pleasure.
Television has made dictatorship impossible, but democracy unbearable.
And to finish off, some classic George W Bush quotes, as he perfectly engenders the public's disinterest in thoughtful language.
You teach a child to read and he or her will be able to pass a literacy test.
More and more of our imports come from overseas.
I've been misunderestimated
The family is where our wings take dream.
The Summer Tree - Guy Gavriel Kay
I read this and really enjoyed it when I was about 15. I bought the trilogy rather cheap off ebay (they are actually copies from a prison library) and decided to see if they were still as good as I remember. Unfortunately I was disappointed. It seems my fifteen year old self and I have different tastes.
Five ordinary uni students get swept together at a lecture on Celtic lore and are transported to another world.
Hello fantasy cliche. This book was written in 1985, and maybe it wasn't such a cliche then, but it doesn't help raise the level of interest. All the fantasy regulars are there - a dwarf, a Moon Godess and her priestesses, an old and failing king, an exiled prince, barbaric plainsmen, and an unspeakable evil that has been trapped for centuries and is about to break free.
But all these things do not immediately confine a book to the trash pile. If the plot and characterisation is good enough than these books can still make great stories. This one falls a little short. There is more introspection from the characters which is different. They are not complete cardboard cutouts, and the writing is not as bland as it could have been. But there just wasn't enough meat in the plot to keep my interest. It may be that the other two books have more action.
I can still see why I was attracted to this book in high school, but it has lost its ability to enthrall me. Maybe my reading tastes have matured, definitely changed at least.
I'll get to the next two books when I want to read something that doesn't require me to think, which probably means I will be reading them rather soon.
Five ordinary uni students get swept together at a lecture on Celtic lore and are transported to another world.
Hello fantasy cliche. This book was written in 1985, and maybe it wasn't such a cliche then, but it doesn't help raise the level of interest. All the fantasy regulars are there - a dwarf, a Moon Godess and her priestesses, an old and failing king, an exiled prince, barbaric plainsmen, and an unspeakable evil that has been trapped for centuries and is about to break free.
But all these things do not immediately confine a book to the trash pile. If the plot and characterisation is good enough than these books can still make great stories. This one falls a little short. There is more introspection from the characters which is different. They are not complete cardboard cutouts, and the writing is not as bland as it could have been. But there just wasn't enough meat in the plot to keep my interest. It may be that the other two books have more action.
I can still see why I was attracted to this book in high school, but it has lost its ability to enthrall me. Maybe my reading tastes have matured, definitely changed at least.
I'll get to the next two books when I want to read something that doesn't require me to think, which probably means I will be reading them rather soon.
Sunday, May 16, 2004
The Satanic Verses: A Novel - Salman Rushdie
I am sure that I had some notes about this book, but they seem to have disappeared somewhere in the pile of paper that is my bedroom.
I have been interested for some time about the book that saw this man hunted by the fundamentalist Muslim world.
It was a long slog to get through it, but that is not to say that it was bad. It was long, and written in such a way that quick reading is not possible.
It tells the story of two Indians, one a movie star, the other a voice over specialist, who are seated next to each other on a plane to London. The plane is hijacked and ends up exploding in mid-air. By a miracle they are spared and make it to shore in England.
But their fall does not leave them unchanged. Internal changes are mirrored by external metarmorpheses and a final battle between good and evil seems imminent. Dreams become real, past and present merge and mix, themes are drawn together through space and time. It is a complex novel, masterfully written, thoroughly engaging. I admire the writing immensely, but the detailed and flowery imagery as well as the complexity of the plot make it a novel that is hard to fall in love with. On an intellectual level it is amazing, one of the best pieces of writing that I have encountered, but as always this slows down the pace of the story, meaning that you are reading the book more for the writing than the story. For a literary work the plot is great, but I think the book could have been improved by being compressed somewhat. I am also sure that my reading of the book was shallow at best, and I missed many of the nuances and themes that could perhaps lead to a greater appreciation of the book.
I could not see evidence of a direct attack on the Islamic faith, but there was definitely a certain irreverance taken with religion, and I know that that is an easy way to upset fundamentalist types. There are also aspersions cast on the way in which Muhammad received the message of the Quran from Allah through the Angel Gabriel(Gibreel), and the way in which he may have comprimised during his intial attempts at conversion of the polytheistic people to his monotheistic faith. This I suppose does translate to an attack on the religion, to translate to my mainly Christian understanding, it is like questioning the validity of Jesus as a deity and also the message spread by the early Church. An easy thing to react to. But in the story it is not treated as important and I don't think that it was the author's intention to insult Muslims. It is unfortunate that that has happened because it is really a great book and deserves to be one of the classics. But if the controversy draws more people to his writing (like it did for me) than that can only be a good thing.
And because I am an incessant note taker while I am reading I will have to include the few quotes I jotted down.
But names, once they are in common use, quickly become mere sounds, their etymology being buried, like so many of the earth's marvels, beneath the dust of habit.
Language is courage: the ability to conceive a thought, to speak it, and by doing so to make it true.
She accepted loneliness as the price of solitude.
It is only at the moment of death that living creatures realise that life has been real, and not a sort of dream.
To dream of a thing is very different from being faced with the fact of it.
The true appeal of evil being the seductive ease with which one may embark upon that road.
If love is a yearning to be like (even to become) the beloved, then hatred, it must be said, can be engendered by the same ambition, when it cannot be fulfilled.
This was progress, a small increase in sophistication, and a large increase in cost.
I have been interested for some time about the book that saw this man hunted by the fundamentalist Muslim world.
It was a long slog to get through it, but that is not to say that it was bad. It was long, and written in such a way that quick reading is not possible.
It tells the story of two Indians, one a movie star, the other a voice over specialist, who are seated next to each other on a plane to London. The plane is hijacked and ends up exploding in mid-air. By a miracle they are spared and make it to shore in England.
But their fall does not leave them unchanged. Internal changes are mirrored by external metarmorpheses and a final battle between good and evil seems imminent. Dreams become real, past and present merge and mix, themes are drawn together through space and time. It is a complex novel, masterfully written, thoroughly engaging. I admire the writing immensely, but the detailed and flowery imagery as well as the complexity of the plot make it a novel that is hard to fall in love with. On an intellectual level it is amazing, one of the best pieces of writing that I have encountered, but as always this slows down the pace of the story, meaning that you are reading the book more for the writing than the story. For a literary work the plot is great, but I think the book could have been improved by being compressed somewhat. I am also sure that my reading of the book was shallow at best, and I missed many of the nuances and themes that could perhaps lead to a greater appreciation of the book.
I could not see evidence of a direct attack on the Islamic faith, but there was definitely a certain irreverance taken with religion, and I know that that is an easy way to upset fundamentalist types. There are also aspersions cast on the way in which Muhammad received the message of the Quran from Allah through the Angel Gabriel(Gibreel), and the way in which he may have comprimised during his intial attempts at conversion of the polytheistic people to his monotheistic faith. This I suppose does translate to an attack on the religion, to translate to my mainly Christian understanding, it is like questioning the validity of Jesus as a deity and also the message spread by the early Church. An easy thing to react to. But in the story it is not treated as important and I don't think that it was the author's intention to insult Muslims. It is unfortunate that that has happened because it is really a great book and deserves to be one of the classics. But if the controversy draws more people to his writing (like it did for me) than that can only be a good thing.
And because I am an incessant note taker while I am reading I will have to include the few quotes I jotted down.
But names, once they are in common use, quickly become mere sounds, their etymology being buried, like so many of the earth's marvels, beneath the dust of habit.
Language is courage: the ability to conceive a thought, to speak it, and by doing so to make it true.
She accepted loneliness as the price of solitude.
It is only at the moment of death that living creatures realise that life has been real, and not a sort of dream.
To dream of a thing is very different from being faced with the fact of it.
The true appeal of evil being the seductive ease with which one may embark upon that road.
If love is a yearning to be like (even to become) the beloved, then hatred, it must be said, can be engendered by the same ambition, when it cannot be fulfilled.
This was progress, a small increase in sophistication, and a large increase in cost.
