I love it when you read a book, and it leads you to a decision.
For instance, within one chapter of reading Stiff, I decided I was going to donate my body to science. I even Tweeted about it (remember, once something hits Twitter, it cannot be refuted).
Well, I decided that if my organs cannot be salvaged, that I would like to be donated to science. For whatever cause. They can use my cadaver in car impact testings, gun testing, anatomy labs, whatever. I don't care! It's a body, and once I'm dead I have no use for it.
So, thanks Mary Roach, for writing Stiff. Now I need to get a will or something... Law-Man probably doesn't take Twitter as a serious edict.
Roach wrote this novel in order to discover something new: she discusses how she's traveled all over the world as a journalist and had seen everything five times. Then, she "began to look for the foreign lands between the cracks. Science was one such land. Science involving the dead was particularly foreign and strange and, in its repellent way, enticing" (14). This led her to study what happens to human bodies once they cease to live. And boy! What interesting things we do to them. Or decline to.
I recommend this book for anyone with morbid curiosities. Some people will likely be grossed out about this. If you don't like reading about faces being peeled back and how a body decomposes, don't read it.
This novel was written in 2003, so I am a quite behind in its coolness. For example, Roach discusses Plastination—the substitution of body fluids with plastic, which enables bodies to be preserved for eternity. And made a show out of! At press, she mentions that BodyWorlds hadn't been shown in the U.S.
In 2006 some of the Biker Ghouls stormed Vancouver, B.C. to visit the Bodyworlds exhibit. Last year it came near us in Portland, Oregon. Apparently America got over its squeamishness in the years since this book was published.
Sorry for the BodyWorlds tangent. One who likes Stiff must like BodyWorlds and vice versa. Now, other than reading this book for morbid curiosity, you could also read it to learn something. Roach not only discusses what donating a body to science could entail, but she discusses alternatives. Cremation? Burial? Getting shot into space? Why are some cultures so opposed to certain practices?
If you want to donate your body to science, check out a medical school in your state. Fill out the forms in the presence of witnesses, and you should be OK. Of course, your survivors can always decline this, even if it's your wish; therefore, you should let your family know of your intentions and how serious you are about it. Check out Living Bank for more details.
KK
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Watchmen by Alan Moore/Dave Gibbons
I admit. I picked up Watchmen because I saw the trailer for the film.
At The Dark Knight's premiere, one of the previews started with a familiar song--the Smashing Pumpkin's "The Beginning is the End is the Beginning". You may think that sounds familiar... that's because "The End is the Beginning is the End" was a single off the Batman & Robin soundtrack (it also won the Pumpkins a Grammy for Best Hard Rock Performance). Anyway, do you follow? "The Beginning" was the closing song on the soundtrack, and was a bit of a reprise of "The End."
Anyhow, both Watchmen and Batman are DC properties, so we'll pretend we didn't know that they recycled a Batman and Robin song for this movie's trailer. It's really quite OK—I love to see the Pumpkins get some love.
Ok, back to my point: I read Watchmen because there is a blockbuster film coming out next year based on it. Because of this fact, and that there is a fully naked character, I decided to read the graphic novel.
My friend Matt pointed out that I committed some sort of sacrilege because it took me so long to read it. Like, I picked it up 10 days ago and just finished it last night. Sorry, man, sometimes ya just don't feel like reading.
When I finished reading it last night, I tweeted "Finished Watchmen. Not sure she can write a review..."
It's not that I didn't spend time thinking while reading the novel. I don't know what it was, but I'm just not feeling the "gettin' all intellectual" business.
To help me write this review, last night I wrote on a notecard:
WTF just happened?
Life goes on!
Seems like a big deal. Impact.
But all resumes, regardless.
The ending of the comic was quite jarring. I guess too many superhero movies have led me to believe that everybody turns out good in the end. But in this one, it is very murky. You want to think Dr. Manhattan is a good guy, because he can control, like, everything, but look what he does to Rorschach! Of course, he had to, in order to keep the cover-up in place. But why was Adrian's plan correct? Because Adrian is the smartest self-made man?
Maybe those who plotted 9/11 were thinking along the same lines as Adrian. Except they used hijacked planes, not a terrifying monster. Or when the US bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki-we said murder 200,000 to save the world...
Anyway. I'm done thinking about it. I just can't wait to see if the book gets butchered when it's turn into a film.
I highly suggest reading it. Watchmen is extremely intelligent... and one of my favorite things to point out during reviews is relevance. And it is hella relevant!
It's a good thing for superheros—our Watchmen—to not be good through-and-through, I suppose. I shall read this again and maybe think about it a little more.
KK
At The Dark Knight's premiere, one of the previews started with a familiar song--the Smashing Pumpkin's "The Beginning is the End is the Beginning". You may think that sounds familiar... that's because "The End is the Beginning is the End" was a single off the Batman & Robin soundtrack (it also won the Pumpkins a Grammy for Best Hard Rock Performance). Anyway, do you follow? "The Beginning" was the closing song on the soundtrack, and was a bit of a reprise of "The End."
Anyhow, both Watchmen and Batman are DC properties, so we'll pretend we didn't know that they recycled a Batman and Robin song for this movie's trailer. It's really quite OK—I love to see the Pumpkins get some love.
Ok, back to my point: I read Watchmen because there is a blockbuster film coming out next year based on it. Because of this fact, and that there is a fully naked character, I decided to read the graphic novel.
My friend Matt pointed out that I committed some sort of sacrilege because it took me so long to read it. Like, I picked it up 10 days ago and just finished it last night. Sorry, man, sometimes ya just don't feel like reading.
When I finished reading it last night, I tweeted "Finished Watchmen. Not sure she can write a review..."
It's not that I didn't spend time thinking while reading the novel. I don't know what it was, but I'm just not feeling the "gettin' all intellectual" business.
To help me write this review, last night I wrote on a notecard:
WTF just happened?
Life goes on!
Seems like a big deal. Impact.
But all resumes, regardless.
The ending of the comic was quite jarring. I guess too many superhero movies have led me to believe that everybody turns out good in the end. But in this one, it is very murky. You want to think Dr. Manhattan is a good guy, because he can control, like, everything, but look what he does to Rorschach! Of course, he had to, in order to keep the cover-up in place. But why was Adrian's plan correct? Because Adrian is the smartest self-made man?
Maybe those who plotted 9/11 were thinking along the same lines as Adrian. Except they used hijacked planes, not a terrifying monster. Or when the US bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki-we said murder 200,000 to save the world...
Anyway. I'm done thinking about it. I just can't wait to see if the book gets butchered when it's turn into a film.
I highly suggest reading it. Watchmen is extremely intelligent... and one of my favorite things to point out during reviews is relevance. And it is hella relevant!
It's a good thing for superheros—our Watchmen—to not be good through-and-through, I suppose. I shall read this again and maybe think about it a little more.
KK
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson
According to Wikipedia, Snow Falling on Cedars was written by a teacher, taking 10 years to complete. The success of this book should give hope everywhere to teachers who want to be writers. But not just because it was a successful—it is also a good read.
David Guterson's novel was published in 1994, and became a huge hit, spawning a film version in 1999. The front cover gives away its superstar status, with a giant "The Award-Winning #1 Bestseller" badge.
"Oh great," I said to myself after examining the book. I came across this novel when Matt and Anna were simplifying their life and giving away books. I had heard of it, so I took it. But I had it for about almost a year before I read it. That "#1 Bestseller" just turns me away. I don't want people to think I read only bestsellers! I don't want want anyone to assume I'm a DaVinci Code fan! (Disclosure: I haven't read that novel, and I don't want to. Don't make me).
Anyway... this novel was a quick read, even though it's 460 pages long. Once I was into it, I didn't want to stop reading! The novel focuses on a murder trial in the '50s, when there was a lot of anti-Japanese racism resulting from WWII. Set on a Washington state island, the story revolves on the trial of Katsuo, who is accused of killing Carl over wanted strawberry farmland. It is easy for the citizens to get caught up in the racism, because they recall all of the Japanese citizens being interned in 1942, and many are war veterans. The internment of Japanese-Americans was a disgraceful action; this novel is a good reminder to us to not forget it. I don't think I heard about citizens being interned until I was in high school—which is pretty outrageous. Remember, kids, we study history lest we repeat it!
Which brings me to the relevance of this novel: it is really easy to read, sure, and very involving. Guterson has a gift for description: the strawberry fields, the snow, the mossy tree, each character's sex life, etc. But there is more to it than pretty words; it really makes you think about racial profiling and stereotyping. Well, Katsuo is a Kendo master, so he must been responsible for Carl's head wound.
I read that Snow Falling on Cedars is taught in many schools (but also banned in some). It is a great novel to teach for things like language, but more so for the potential discussions about racism. It's scary, because in the past seven years, America has painted all of its Arab-American citizens as potential terrorists. So, please read this novel as a reminder not to let these things happen!
KK
David Guterson's novel was published in 1994, and became a huge hit, spawning a film version in 1999. The front cover gives away its superstar status, with a giant "The Award-Winning #1 Bestseller" badge.
"Oh great," I said to myself after examining the book. I came across this novel when Matt and Anna were simplifying their life and giving away books. I had heard of it, so I took it. But I had it for about almost a year before I read it. That "#1 Bestseller" just turns me away. I don't want people to think I read only bestsellers! I don't want want anyone to assume I'm a DaVinci Code fan! (Disclosure: I haven't read that novel, and I don't want to. Don't make me).
Anyway... this novel was a quick read, even though it's 460 pages long. Once I was into it, I didn't want to stop reading! The novel focuses on a murder trial in the '50s, when there was a lot of anti-Japanese racism resulting from WWII. Set on a Washington state island, the story revolves on the trial of Katsuo, who is accused of killing Carl over wanted strawberry farmland. It is easy for the citizens to get caught up in the racism, because they recall all of the Japanese citizens being interned in 1942, and many are war veterans. The internment of Japanese-Americans was a disgraceful action; this novel is a good reminder to us to not forget it. I don't think I heard about citizens being interned until I was in high school—which is pretty outrageous. Remember, kids, we study history lest we repeat it!
Which brings me to the relevance of this novel: it is really easy to read, sure, and very involving. Guterson has a gift for description: the strawberry fields, the snow, the mossy tree, each character's sex life, etc. But there is more to it than pretty words; it really makes you think about racial profiling and stereotyping. Well, Katsuo is a Kendo master, so he must been responsible for Carl's head wound.
I read that Snow Falling on Cedars is taught in many schools (but also banned in some). It is a great novel to teach for things like language, but more so for the potential discussions about racism. It's scary, because in the past seven years, America has painted all of its Arab-American citizens as potential terrorists. So, please read this novel as a reminder not to let these things happen!
KK
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Hell's Angels by Hunter S. Thompson
Both Hunter S. Thompson and the Hell's Angels bring preconceived notions to mind:
Thompson was a crazy sonofabitch. He was a nutbag druggie who liked to blow things up.
The Hell's Angel's are crazy motherfuckers. Remember Altamont? They killed like 500 people while providing concert security for the Rolling Stones.
Both of these notions have some basis in reality. Thompson liked drugs and blowing things up. The Hell's Angels did provide security at Altamont, where one person was killed by an Angel (in self-defense).
It is very fitting that Thompson got close to the Angels in order to write a book, Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga (1969). This book is definitely in the vein of Gonzo journalism—Thompson spends nearly a year with the Angels, drinking, going on runs, and having close encounters with the lawmen.
Don't expect to read about some elaborate ritual where Thompson gets initiated into the gang. That doesn't happen. He just hangs around with them enough that they start trusting him (and he doesn't even ride a Harley, but a British bike!). He sees firsthand what runs are like, what parties are like, and what the members do when they aren't together. Turns out the Angels are much more tame than their reputation sells them.
Many are married with a mortgage, but some are unemployed couch-surfers. Neither is unique to the Angels—I'm sure you'll find both types in a Scrapbooking club.
But no one has quite the reputation of the Angels. So, where did this reputation come from?
Guess, c'mon...
Five seconds...
Ok, it was the press. Media is responsible for making the Angels simultaneously feared and revered. Thompson uses excerpts from articles and reports to show how this happened. You may have heard how Thompson got "stomped" out of the club—that's such a brief part of the story, it's in postscript.
Point being, don't read this book expecting to see how brutally Thompson was beat by the Angels. That is not what it is about. It's about a group of men finding common ground and forming a club. The club—and its members and their actions—get blown out of proportion by the media to become a symbol for all that is wrong with sex, drugs, and motorcycles.
Really, they aren't that bad. That's not to say they are good—they just aren't that bad.
I highly recommend reading it, especially if you haven't read anything by Thompson before. I also recommend reading it if you're looking to start a much-feared gang... everything comes down to reputation.
KK
Thompson was a crazy sonofabitch. He was a nutbag druggie who liked to blow things up.
The Hell's Angel's are crazy motherfuckers. Remember Altamont? They killed like 500 people while providing concert security for the Rolling Stones.
Both of these notions have some basis in reality. Thompson liked drugs and blowing things up. The Hell's Angels did provide security at Altamont, where one person was killed by an Angel (in self-defense).
It is very fitting that Thompson got close to the Angels in order to write a book, Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga (1969). This book is definitely in the vein of Gonzo journalism—Thompson spends nearly a year with the Angels, drinking, going on runs, and having close encounters with the lawmen.
Don't expect to read about some elaborate ritual where Thompson gets initiated into the gang. That doesn't happen. He just hangs around with them enough that they start trusting him (and he doesn't even ride a Harley, but a British bike!). He sees firsthand what runs are like, what parties are like, and what the members do when they aren't together. Turns out the Angels are much more tame than their reputation sells them.
Many are married with a mortgage, but some are unemployed couch-surfers. Neither is unique to the Angels—I'm sure you'll find both types in a Scrapbooking club.
But no one has quite the reputation of the Angels. So, where did this reputation come from?
Guess, c'mon...
Five seconds...
Ok, it was the press. Media is responsible for making the Angels simultaneously feared and revered. Thompson uses excerpts from articles and reports to show how this happened. You may have heard how Thompson got "stomped" out of the club—that's such a brief part of the story, it's in postscript.
Point being, don't read this book expecting to see how brutally Thompson was beat by the Angels. That is not what it is about. It's about a group of men finding common ground and forming a club. The club—and its members and their actions—get blown out of proportion by the media to become a symbol for all that is wrong with sex, drugs, and motorcycles.
Really, they aren't that bad. That's not to say they are good—they just aren't that bad.
I highly recommend reading it, especially if you haven't read anything by Thompson before. I also recommend reading it if you're looking to start a much-feared gang... everything comes down to reputation.
KK
Monday, October 20, 2008
Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins
Still Life With Woodpecker by Tom Robbins is "A sort of a love story."
There is a love story, and that is what holds all the randomness, such as redheads, Red Beards, miscarriages, cheerleaders, $20 million pyramids, sex, isolation, bombs, cocaine, Ralph Nader, and royalty together.
Did I mention Ralph Nader? If nothing else, I suggest one read this book because the protagonist has a thing for Ralph Nader. And by thing, I mean she both adores his ideas and wants to hump him.
Still Life is one of those postmodern treats where the author interacts with the reader. Robbins achieves this through occasional rants about his new electric typewriter, a Remington SL3. He isn't sure about this newfangled device: he senses "the novel of my dreams is in the Remington SL3" (ix), but he can't keep up with how fast it allows him to type. So if he gives up on the typewriter, and finishes his novel in longhand, does that mean this awesome book isn't the novel of his dreams?
I haven't read any of Robbins' work besides this, so I can't say if it gets better than this. But this book is pretty damn good. I didn't want to put it down, for a few reasons:
1. The plot is entertaining with some good twists (even if some are predictable)
2. It is naughty; definitely not for the prude
3. Non-sequitur city
4. Those of the Ginger persuasion may be controlling human fate
5. What secret is the Camel pack trying to tell us?
The main question of the novel is "What makes love stay?" Princess Leigh-Cheri really wants to know. Can an outlaw bomber help her figure it out? You may be surprised. I was expecting the Princess to be scorned by the self-proclaimed outlaw Bernard (the Woodpecker), but it didn't quite happen. Maybe outlaws are like cocaine, and that's the lesson. You know you shouldn't do it, but you can't stop yourself. Because you are addicted.
Then again, I know nothing about cocaine... and nothing about dating Outlaws. One time this guy I dated returned a bicycle to Target claiming it was broken when really, he just got sick of riding it to work... and that's the closest I've come to outlaw love.
So, back to the novel:
I recommend you read it. It is wholeheartedly enjoyable. I forgot to mention this, but there is an alien subplot.
KK
There is a love story, and that is what holds all the randomness, such as redheads, Red Beards, miscarriages, cheerleaders, $20 million pyramids, sex, isolation, bombs, cocaine, Ralph Nader, and royalty together.
Did I mention Ralph Nader? If nothing else, I suggest one read this book because the protagonist has a thing for Ralph Nader. And by thing, I mean she both adores his ideas and wants to hump him.
Still Life is one of those postmodern treats where the author interacts with the reader. Robbins achieves this through occasional rants about his new electric typewriter, a Remington SL3. He isn't sure about this newfangled device: he senses "the novel of my dreams is in the Remington SL3" (ix), but he can't keep up with how fast it allows him to type. So if he gives up on the typewriter, and finishes his novel in longhand, does that mean this awesome book isn't the novel of his dreams?
I haven't read any of Robbins' work besides this, so I can't say if it gets better than this. But this book is pretty damn good. I didn't want to put it down, for a few reasons:
1. The plot is entertaining with some good twists (even if some are predictable)
2. It is naughty; definitely not for the prude
3. Non-sequitur city
4. Those of the Ginger persuasion may be controlling human fate
5. What secret is the Camel pack trying to tell us?
The main question of the novel is "What makes love stay?" Princess Leigh-Cheri really wants to know. Can an outlaw bomber help her figure it out? You may be surprised. I was expecting the Princess to be scorned by the self-proclaimed outlaw Bernard (the Woodpecker), but it didn't quite happen. Maybe outlaws are like cocaine, and that's the lesson. You know you shouldn't do it, but you can't stop yourself. Because you are addicted.
Then again, I know nothing about cocaine... and nothing about dating Outlaws. One time this guy I dated returned a bicycle to Target claiming it was broken when really, he just got sick of riding it to work... and that's the closest I've come to outlaw love.
So, back to the novel:
I recommend you read it. It is wholeheartedly enjoyable. I forgot to mention this, but there is an alien subplot.
KK
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
The Road by Cormac McCarthy: Read it.
That's pretty much all I have to say.
The Road is a Post-Apocalyptic novel that showcases the opposite of what we see in popular Post-Apocalyptic cinema: love, sympathy, empathy, trust... and other things. It follows a father and his young son, who are trying to survive on little more than love and two bullets. I am used to seeing gun battles and dramatic fights for oil or water after the Apocalypse. That's not to say that the father and son don't worry about having oil and water; they definitely do, but that isn't what drives them. They are "each the other's world entire" (6) and they are carrying the fire.
Some people don't distinguish between Post-Apocalyptic and Dystopian books or films. I think you have to: in Dystopian literature, the most alarming thing is how the government is lying to you and definitely not behaving in your best interest (1984, Soylent Green, Brave New World).
In Post-Apocalyptic literature, the most alarming thing is anarchy. There is no government to help you out; sometimes people work together towards the common good, and sometimes they don't (Mad Max series, Steel Dawn). The Road is very much in the same vein. Something catastrophic happened; the Earth became hot with melted asphalt, and is now freezing with ashy snow. Few people are now living, as most people, if they didn't die in the catastrophe, likely starved. Or, you know, were cannabalized.
This book is short, so there is no reason to avoid reading it. I will leave you with just one excerpt and no analysis (196):
P.P.S. Nick Cave did the music for aforementioned movie... sweet!
P.P.P.S. Just linking to Steel Dawn, I noticed that IMDb users give it an average score of 4.2 of 10. I think it was much better than that! I would have to watch it again to accurately score it. If one says it's a Mad Max rip-off, then, OK, at least it's a decent rip-off.
That's pretty much all I have to say.
The Road is a Post-Apocalyptic novel that showcases the opposite of what we see in popular Post-Apocalyptic cinema: love, sympathy, empathy, trust... and other things. It follows a father and his young son, who are trying to survive on little more than love and two bullets. I am used to seeing gun battles and dramatic fights for oil or water after the Apocalypse. That's not to say that the father and son don't worry about having oil and water; they definitely do, but that isn't what drives them. They are "each the other's world entire" (6) and they are carrying the fire.
Some people don't distinguish between Post-Apocalyptic and Dystopian books or films. I think you have to: in Dystopian literature, the most alarming thing is how the government is lying to you and definitely not behaving in your best interest (1984, Soylent Green, Brave New World).
In Post-Apocalyptic literature, the most alarming thing is anarchy. There is no government to help you out; sometimes people work together towards the common good, and sometimes they don't (Mad Max series, Steel Dawn). The Road is very much in the same vein. Something catastrophic happened; the Earth became hot with melted asphalt, and is now freezing with ashy snow. Few people are now living, as most people, if they didn't die in the catastrophe, likely starved. Or, you know, were cannabalized.
This book is short, so there is no reason to avoid reading it. I will leave you with just one excerpt and no analysis (196):
Do you think that your fathers are watching? That they weigh you in their ledgerbook? Against what? There is no book and your fathers are dead in the ground.P.S. Viggo Mortensen stars in the movie adaptation, which should be released Nov. 26, 2008. Perfect Thanksgiving movie? Huh.
P.P.S. Nick Cave did the music for aforementioned movie... sweet!
P.P.P.S. Just linking to Steel Dawn, I noticed that IMDb users give it an average score of 4.2 of 10. I think it was much better than that! I would have to watch it again to accurately score it. If one says it's a Mad Max rip-off, then, OK, at least it's a decent rip-off.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds: Portland, Oregon, 09/22/2008
Monday was Nick Cave's birthday. He turned an ancient 51. He and
The Bad Seeds played a sold-out show at the Crystal Ballroom, which holds at most 1500 people.
So, how was the show? Great. I have a history of being let down by musicians I adore. Last year I finally saw the Smashing Pumpkins after loving them for 12 years... And was bored by Billy's wandering into neo-jam band territory. Ugh. A few years back I saw Bowie, and it was just OK as well; it was a decent performance, but it wasn't engaging thanks to the massiveness of The Rose Garden and the elder age of the audience.
Back to seeing the subjects of my adoration perform... Nick and the
Seeds were great! Nick may be getting up there (he said it was his "fucking birthday" and he was "disgracefully old" and then played "The Weeping Song"), but damn he still delivers. It's a combination of that moustache, that dancing, and that screaming and staggering!
They played a lot off the latest album Dig! Lazarus! Dig! and a hearty dose of classics too. Here's the setlist:
Night of the Lotus Eaters
Dig Lazarus Dig
Tupelo
Today's Lesson
Weeping Song
Nobody's Baby Now
Midnight Man
Mercy Seat
Deanna
Moonland
Red Right Hand
We Call Upon the Author
Papa Won't Leave You, Henry
More News From Nowhere
Love Letter
Lyre of Orpheus
Get Ready For Love
Hard-on For Love
Stagger Lee
I wasn't disappointed by the live spin put on these songs (as I was when I saw the Pumpkins...) It really felt like Nick and Co. were performing for us, not just the paycheck.
My review: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds put on a damn good show and I highly recommend seeing them! Just make sure to buy your tickets early.
I stumbled upon a few videos the band released before Lazarus came out. The record label posted a series of these promos. But, I admit, I have a special place in my heart for this sort of thing, as my final project for a Digital Photography class had a similar spirit to it (Ha!Ha!).
The Bad Seeds played a sold-out show at the Crystal Ballroom, which holds at most 1500 people.
So, how was the show? Great. I have a history of being let down by musicians I adore. Last year I finally saw the Smashing Pumpkins after loving them for 12 years... And was bored by Billy's wandering into neo-jam band territory. Ugh. A few years back I saw Bowie, and it was just OK as well; it was a decent performance, but it wasn't engaging thanks to the massiveness of The Rose Garden and the elder age of the audience.
Back to seeing the subjects of my adoration perform... Nick and the
Seeds were great! Nick may be getting up there (he said it was his "fucking birthday" and he was "disgracefully old" and then played "The Weeping Song"), but damn he still delivers. It's a combination of that moustache, that dancing, and that screaming and staggering!
They played a lot off the latest album Dig! Lazarus! Dig! and a hearty dose of classics too. Here's the setlist:
Night of the Lotus Eaters
Dig Lazarus Dig
Tupelo
Today's Lesson
Weeping Song
Nobody's Baby Now
Midnight Man
Mercy Seat
Deanna
Moonland
Red Right Hand
We Call Upon the Author
Papa Won't Leave You, Henry
More News From Nowhere
Love Letter
Lyre of Orpheus
Get Ready For Love
Hard-on For Love
Stagger Lee
I wasn't disappointed by the live spin put on these songs (as I was when I saw the Pumpkins...) It really felt like Nick and Co. were performing for us, not just the paycheck.
My review: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds put on a damn good show and I highly recommend seeing them! Just make sure to buy your tickets early.
I stumbled upon a few videos the band released before Lazarus came out. The record label posted a series of these promos. But, I admit, I have a special place in my heart for this sort of thing, as my final project for a Digital Photography class had a similar spirit to it (Ha!Ha!).
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk
Hi. It's been a while.
After reading Galapagos, I set off to read some short stories. I read "Colony" by Philip K. Dick (awesome!) but then I had enough. If I am trying to read a load of books and write about them, reading short stories is antithetical.
On to a review: my first experience of reading Chuck Palahniuk wasn't bad, but it didn't help me understand why so many people enjoy his work. That was Choke (which, BTW, the film comes out next month). I really had to understand the hype, so I read Lullaby last week. Verdict: much better.
I hate saying this, but as a person with, you know, teaching as a profession, literature should say something. It ought to mean more than just a simple story. Now, I could make up a meaning for anything, but that's not the point. It should be obvious enough that any person reading can see a hint of meaning. Maybe not "get" the whole thing, but be able to say, "Yeah, I think this book is about _______" (insert theme here).
That was my main problem with Choke, that I wasn't sure what Palahniuk was doing with it besides shocking us. But that's fine! Whatever, moving along. Reading Jezebel the other day, some commenter made a snide remark about how Palahniuk is a hack who can't string together a literate sentence. I don't know what is going on with that bitter reader, but even if you don't like his style, he's definitely got one. His voice is strong, identifiable, and his. It is definitely literate and literary. That's what I recognized with Lullaby... his stories are outrageous, but there is something comforting about them. If Chuck were my uncle, I would hear these tales at family gatherings and never be disturbed—"that's good ol' Uncle Chuck."
Lullaby would be a great read for those into folklore. It centers on a culling song, a poem that read, spoken, or even thought brings instant death. Not to the reader/speaker, but to whomever they read it to or who they think about. So, this likely started as an oral tradition and then got transcribed and ended up in The Book of Shadows. I'm surprised I haven't heard people bring this little tale up in Folklore class and pretend they heard it from someone. But that's a digression.
Carl read this song to his wife and young daughter, accidentally killing them. He fled, and is now an incredibly guilt-wracked newspaper reporter focused on a series of articles about Crib Death. Hits a little close to home, huh?
Unfortunately 500 copies of the book with this culling poem were printed. It becomes his job, with the help of a realtor, to track these books down and destroy page 27.
So, awesome premise. It's a great story, and it doesn't shock quite as much as Choke. That's not to say it's sterile, sanitary, or something you'd want your grandmother to read. It's just a little more reserved...
One conflict of the novel is the power that comes from the culling song. In the wrong hands, it could mean genocide. But even in careful hands, it causes a string of deaths. So what do you do with it? Use it selectively? Kill yourself so you can't wreak havoc? Carl's realtor friend, Helen, believes you should aim at constructive deconstruction: she uses the poem as her weapon for her side-job as a hitwoman.
But, if you know of the power of this poem, do you have responsibility to destroy it so innocent people are spared? Not only do countless infants die because of it, but their parents are punished (by guilt, or the law).
Or, as Oyster, the young hippie/anarchist/Eugene-resident-at-heart wants, you could use it to shake up the world's balance of power. Maybe kill all of the CEOs, world leaders and child molesters? Make yourself Adam and your girlfriend Eve?
This is just one conflict the poem presents: power. What about control? In trying to destroy an evil force, the characters could spur an ugly control of all people read, hear, speak, etc. What happens if the World's citizens realize books are dangerous, and that they can kill? Do we destroy all literature? (I bet The Anarchist's Cookbook is the first to go). If not, who decides what goes?
And there's so much more. Like I've done before, I'm cutting myself off. Go read this book.
KK
After reading Galapagos, I set off to read some short stories. I read "Colony" by Philip K. Dick (awesome!) but then I had enough. If I am trying to read a load of books and write about them, reading short stories is antithetical.
On to a review: my first experience of reading Chuck Palahniuk wasn't bad, but it didn't help me understand why so many people enjoy his work. That was Choke (which, BTW, the film comes out next month). I really had to understand the hype, so I read Lullaby last week. Verdict: much better.
I hate saying this, but as a person with, you know, teaching as a profession, literature should say something. It ought to mean more than just a simple story. Now, I could make up a meaning for anything, but that's not the point. It should be obvious enough that any person reading can see a hint of meaning. Maybe not "get" the whole thing, but be able to say, "Yeah, I think this book is about _______" (insert theme here).
That was my main problem with Choke, that I wasn't sure what Palahniuk was doing with it besides shocking us. But that's fine! Whatever, moving along. Reading Jezebel the other day, some commenter made a snide remark about how Palahniuk is a hack who can't string together a literate sentence. I don't know what is going on with that bitter reader, but even if you don't like his style, he's definitely got one. His voice is strong, identifiable, and his. It is definitely literate and literary. That's what I recognized with Lullaby... his stories are outrageous, but there is something comforting about them. If Chuck were my uncle, I would hear these tales at family gatherings and never be disturbed—"that's good ol' Uncle Chuck."
Lullaby would be a great read for those into folklore. It centers on a culling song, a poem that read, spoken, or even thought brings instant death. Not to the reader/speaker, but to whomever they read it to or who they think about. So, this likely started as an oral tradition and then got transcribed and ended up in The Book of Shadows. I'm surprised I haven't heard people bring this little tale up in Folklore class and pretend they heard it from someone. But that's a digression.
Carl read this song to his wife and young daughter, accidentally killing them. He fled, and is now an incredibly guilt-wracked newspaper reporter focused on a series of articles about Crib Death. Hits a little close to home, huh?
Unfortunately 500 copies of the book with this culling poem were printed. It becomes his job, with the help of a realtor, to track these books down and destroy page 27.
So, awesome premise. It's a great story, and it doesn't shock quite as much as Choke. That's not to say it's sterile, sanitary, or something you'd want your grandmother to read. It's just a little more reserved...
One conflict of the novel is the power that comes from the culling song. In the wrong hands, it could mean genocide. But even in careful hands, it causes a string of deaths. So what do you do with it? Use it selectively? Kill yourself so you can't wreak havoc? Carl's realtor friend, Helen, believes you should aim at constructive deconstruction: she uses the poem as her weapon for her side-job as a hitwoman.
But, if you know of the power of this poem, do you have responsibility to destroy it so innocent people are spared? Not only do countless infants die because of it, but their parents are punished (by guilt, or the law).
Or, as Oyster, the young hippie/anarchist/Eugene-resident-at-heart wants, you could use it to shake up the world's balance of power. Maybe kill all of the CEOs, world leaders and child molesters? Make yourself Adam and your girlfriend Eve?
This is just one conflict the poem presents: power. What about control? In trying to destroy an evil force, the characters could spur an ugly control of all people read, hear, speak, etc. What happens if the World's citizens realize books are dangerous, and that they can kill? Do we destroy all literature? (I bet The Anarchist's Cookbook is the first to go). If not, who decides what goes?
And there's so much more. Like I've done before, I'm cutting myself off. Go read this book.
KK
Monday, August 4, 2008
Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut
I just finished Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut. Vonnegut is a prolific author, but aside from this book, I have read just two others: Slaughterhouse-Five and Cat's Cradle. I remember precious little of the former, but I read the latter earlier this year...with my 11th-and-12th grade Modern Literature class (they must have thought I was crazy, assigning that novel).
Galapagos follows in the tradition of Vonnegut by being "all over the place"; it's not quite linear, includes lots of characters, and may be considered weird. Suffice it to say, I recommend it. I guess it's a little sci-fi (so, you know, he makes a few points). It's not like, robots-and-spaceships sci-fi, mind you, but it is certainly speculative.
Our narrator, Leon Trout, is a ghost who can't go into that blue tunnel known as the Afterlife for one million years (he has a fractured relationship with his father, sci-fi scribe Kilgore Trout). Galapagos is his recording of what happens to the human race from 1986 to 1,001,986. In this time, we hear a little bit about the downfall of humans... if you could call it that. You might call it, like Darwin, Survival of the Fittest. You see, some poor saps on the "Nature Cruise of the Century" land on an island in the Galapagos chain. And one million years from now, all humans claim this small group as common ancestors. We eventually all have silky fur, fins, and small brains.
I mentioned before Vonnegut makes some points—he is known for being satirical, a master of black comedy. Galapagos skewers the human race, sure: we all have these big ol' brains, and you know what we do with them? Yeah, the shit we come up with is ridiculous. We bomb, we con, we swindle, and occasionally love and comfort each other.
Leon remains a ghost for so long because he likes doing "research." As a ghost he can see everything and read minds. But really, what is there to learn about people? As his father Kilgore points out (p. 254):
Really, it gets me every time *tear*.
KK
Next up: The Biker Ghouls From Hell Book Club still isn't up, so I can't crack open The Road or Hell's Angels yet. I'm on this sci-fi kick, so I think I'll continue with some short stories from Science Fact/Fiction or Space Opera: An Anthology of Way-Back-When Futures.
Galapagos follows in the tradition of Vonnegut by being "all over the place"; it's not quite linear, includes lots of characters, and may be considered weird. Suffice it to say, I recommend it. I guess it's a little sci-fi (so, you know, he makes a few points). It's not like, robots-and-spaceships sci-fi, mind you, but it is certainly speculative.
Our narrator, Leon Trout, is a ghost who can't go into that blue tunnel known as the Afterlife for one million years (he has a fractured relationship with his father, sci-fi scribe Kilgore Trout). Galapagos is his recording of what happens to the human race from 1986 to 1,001,986. In this time, we hear a little bit about the downfall of humans... if you could call it that. You might call it, like Darwin, Survival of the Fittest. You see, some poor saps on the "Nature Cruise of the Century" land on an island in the Galapagos chain. And one million years from now, all humans claim this small group as common ancestors. We eventually all have silky fur, fins, and small brains.
I mentioned before Vonnegut makes some points—he is known for being satirical, a master of black comedy. Galapagos skewers the human race, sure: we all have these big ol' brains, and you know what we do with them? Yeah, the shit we come up with is ridiculous. We bomb, we con, we swindle, and occasionally love and comfort each other.
Leon remains a ghost for so long because he likes doing "research." As a ghost he can see everything and read minds. But really, what is there to learn about people? As his father Kilgore points out (p. 254):
"The more you learn about people, the more disgusted you'll become. I would have thought that your being sent by the wisest men in your country, supposedly, to fight a nearly endless, thankless, horrifying, and finally, pointless war [Vietnam], would have given you sufficient insight into the nature of human to last you throughout all eternity!So, as we've come to realize, sci-fi is more than androids, hovercraft and space travel. It is timeless. Although the above excerpt was published in 1985, it packs the same punch today. Man, the fact that literature published decades (or centuries, eons, etc.) ago can remain relevant slays me.
"Need I tell you that these same wonderful animals, of which you apparently still want to learn more and more, are at this very moment proud as Punch to have weapons in place, all set to go at a moment's notice, guaranteed to kill everything?"
Really, it gets me every time *tear*.
KK
Next up: The Biker Ghouls From Hell Book Club still isn't up, so I can't crack open The Road or Hell's Angels yet. I'm on this sci-fi kick, so I think I'll continue with some short stories from Science Fact/Fiction or Space Opera: An Anthology of Way-Back-When Futures.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
I decided to pick up The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams because I know it's a favorite novel among nerds. From nerds in high school to nerds on He-Man.org, it is a well-liked book.
My review? Mehhhhh. Recommended? Mehhhh. But maybe my expectations were set too high. From the back jacket: "As parody, it's marvelous: it contains just about every science fiction cliché you can think of. As humor, it's, well, hysterical"—The Philadelphia Inquirer.
Yes, it is a well-written parody. From the two-headed alien President, to who actually controls Earth, to the Improbability Drive, it pokes fun at those things that make sci-fi identifiable. But I didn't think it was hysterical. I thought it was "just there..."
I don't want to trash it, because it has a good premise and some great characters. Some good points are made outside of "haha, look at this sci-fi cliché turned on its head."
For example, Zaphod Beeblebrox, President of the Imperial Galactic Government, exists as a leader solely to distract his constituents from what is really happening in the galaxy (p. 39). He reminds me of our current US president, except ours doesn't have two heads. But the Government loves to exploit a situation (*cough*9/11*cough* Terrorists/Ahhh!) to distract us (War? What war?). This was a wonderful observation on Adams' part about the way governments work. They make us fear something that has nothing to do with anything.
Decent book, but I think I expected to much. I liked it, but didn't find it hysterical, "extremely funny" (Washington Post) or "reminiscent of Vonnegut" (Chicago Tribune).
There is funnier Sci-Fi out there: it's called the history of Xenu (from Wiki).
Next up: Speaking of being reminiscent of Vonnegut, Galapagos. Don't expect this review for two weeks, though.
My review? Mehhhhh. Recommended? Mehhhh. But maybe my expectations were set too high. From the back jacket: "As parody, it's marvelous: it contains just about every science fiction cliché you can think of. As humor, it's, well, hysterical"—The Philadelphia Inquirer.
Yes, it is a well-written parody. From the two-headed alien President, to who actually controls Earth, to the Improbability Drive, it pokes fun at those things that make sci-fi identifiable. But I didn't think it was hysterical. I thought it was "just there..."
I don't want to trash it, because it has a good premise and some great characters. Some good points are made outside of "haha, look at this sci-fi cliché turned on its head."
For example, Zaphod Beeblebrox, President of the Imperial Galactic Government, exists as a leader solely to distract his constituents from what is really happening in the galaxy (p. 39). He reminds me of our current US president, except ours doesn't have two heads. But the Government loves to exploit a situation (*cough*9/11*cough* Terrorists/Ahhh!) to distract us (War? What war?). This was a wonderful observation on Adams' part about the way governments work. They make us fear something that has nothing to do with anything.
Decent book, but I think I expected to much. I liked it, but didn't find it hysterical, "extremely funny" (Washington Post) or "reminiscent of Vonnegut" (Chicago Tribune).
There is funnier Sci-Fi out there: it's called the history of Xenu (from Wiki).
Next up: Speaking of being reminiscent of Vonnegut, Galapagos. Don't expect this review for two weeks, though.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Several years ago, near the end of my English major classes, I read "The Importance of Being Earnest" by Oscar Wilde. HILARIOUS. I then said to myself, "I must read more of this Oscar Wilde. He is funny, smart, and of course flaming."
I have long admired Wilde for his writing and his fashion, so it made sense to pick up The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde for cheap.
This week I read his only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. It is a must-read for any person, as you will suddenly "get" all references made to Dorian Gray (look, I just came across one yesterday in my daily blog-reading), and you will quickly learn that Wilde writes in aphorisms. Seriously -- everything the guy puts down on paper is a punchy universal truth. You know someone is a master if they do something better than Shakespeare...
So, Dorian Gray... Glad I read it. Would I recommend it? Not necessarily. It was written in Victorian England, and definitely reflects the time period. All of the description gets boring (typical of the Gothic novel), and sometimes Wilde's wit is just exhausting. But, if you can get past those minor quibbles, please read it!
The protagonist is Dorian Gray, a fashionable, beautiful, rich young man whose friend, Basil Hallward, paints a magnificent portrait of him. Dorian wishes he could remain as gorgeous as that portrait forever... The novel follows his life primarily, including his near-marriage, his addiction, and his, umm, bad decisions...
Within pages of reading I scribbled a question on my bookmark—"is every line an aphorism?" (if it isn't a universal truth, it is still a witty epigram). The answer is "Not quite, but close." The character of Lord Henry is the greatest provider of these; he is like the best friend who influences you to smoke pot, drink cheap beer, or skip class. You know you will have a good time with him, but your other friends warn you to stay away... Here are just a few I underlined while reading:
And so these are some of the lessons imparted to impressionable, young and beautiful Dorian Gray. You know, this is why Lindsay Lohan had so many problems. She had too many people like Lord Henry around!
Part of the reason I decided to pick this novel up is because I'd lived by the preface alone (see my blog about blogging). I liked to pick it apart and admire the language, using it support any argument I had (most often with myself) about aesthetics. Wilde was inconsistent, as I explained in that ol' blog of mine. So am I. So is literature.
Is Dorian Gray didactic? Is it a rumination on our obsession with youth and beauty? Is it simply a well-written book? You know, I could expound on these and other questions for ages. But, I did that with my review of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, so I figure I'll give that a rest.
My recommendation:
Read this novel, especially if you are one of those people who likes to read "the classics." This one is considered a classic for good reasons:
Did you know "Dorian Gray had been poisoned by a book?" (chapter 11). Is this possible?
Why does art exist? Some say "it's an outlet" or "it's to show our true selves." Do you think a work of art can come alive? Or somehow retain the essence of its subject?
Oh, and be careful what you wish for. That is all.
Next up: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. (Let's see if I can handle a sci-fi book that makes fun of sci-fi).
I have long admired Wilde for his writing and his fashion, so it made sense to pick up The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde for cheap.
This week I read his only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. It is a must-read for any person, as you will suddenly "get" all references made to Dorian Gray (look, I just came across one yesterday in my daily blog-reading), and you will quickly learn that Wilde writes in aphorisms. Seriously -- everything the guy puts down on paper is a punchy universal truth. You know someone is a master if they do something better than Shakespeare...
So, Dorian Gray... Glad I read it. Would I recommend it? Not necessarily. It was written in Victorian England, and definitely reflects the time period. All of the description gets boring (typical of the Gothic novel), and sometimes Wilde's wit is just exhausting. But, if you can get past those minor quibbles, please read it!
The protagonist is Dorian Gray, a fashionable, beautiful, rich young man whose friend, Basil Hallward, paints a magnificent portrait of him. Dorian wishes he could remain as gorgeous as that portrait forever... The novel follows his life primarily, including his near-marriage, his addiction, and his, umm, bad decisions...
Within pages of reading I scribbled a question on my bookmark—"is every line an aphorism?" (if it isn't a universal truth, it is still a witty epigram). The answer is "Not quite, but close." The character of Lord Henry is the greatest provider of these; he is like the best friend who influences you to smoke pot, drink cheap beer, or skip class. You know you will have a good time with him, but your other friends warn you to stay away... Here are just a few I underlined while reading:
- ...there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about (chapter 1).
- And Beauty is a form of genius—is higher, indeed, than Genius, as it needs no explanation (2).
- All influence is immoral... because to influence a person is to give him one's own soul (2).
- There is absolutely nothing in the world but youth! (2)
- To get back one's youth, one has merely to repeat one's follies (3).
- Nowadays people know the price of everything, and the value of nothing (4).
- Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect—simply a confession of failures (4).
- Yes, we are overcharged for everything nowadays. I should fancy that the real tragedy of the poor is that they can afford nothing but self-denial (6).
And so these are some of the lessons imparted to impressionable, young and beautiful Dorian Gray. You know, this is why Lindsay Lohan had so many problems. She had too many people like Lord Henry around!
Part of the reason I decided to pick this novel up is because I'd lived by the preface alone (see my blog about blogging). I liked to pick it apart and admire the language, using it support any argument I had (most often with myself) about aesthetics. Wilde was inconsistent, as I explained in that ol' blog of mine. So am I. So is literature.
Is Dorian Gray didactic? Is it a rumination on our obsession with youth and beauty? Is it simply a well-written book? You know, I could expound on these and other questions for ages. But, I did that with my review of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, so I figure I'll give that a rest.
My recommendation:
Read this novel, especially if you are one of those people who likes to read "the classics." This one is considered a classic for good reasons:
Did you know "Dorian Gray had been poisoned by a book?" (chapter 11). Is this possible?
Why does art exist? Some say "it's an outlet" or "it's to show our true selves." Do you think a work of art can come alive? Or somehow retain the essence of its subject?
Oh, and be careful what you wish for. That is all.
Next up: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. (Let's see if I can handle a sci-fi book that makes fun of sci-fi).
Monday, July 7, 2008
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick
Yesterday I finished reading Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick. This book is well-known as the basis for Blade Runner, which is one of my favorite films.
Understandably, then, I can't help but discuss the movie while discussing the novel. First: if you disliked the movie, you should still read the book. They are quite different. Conversely, if you read the book and don't like it, still give Blade Runner a chance.
If you want to be challenged, read the book after watching the movie or before. I just recommend that you don't "read up" on the book before tackling it. There are so many articles out there that give too much away (e.g. Wikipedia's). I will strive to give little away.
So—the novel. We start out by learning of Deckard, the bounty hunter. He stands to make a thousand bucks for retiring (killing) an android (known in the film as a replicant). We create these androids to be servants on our colonies; they are in our image, and to 99.9% of the population, appear to be human. Deckard is out to retire them because they killed their masters in order to flee servitude and live on Earth.
The year is 2021 (in earlier editions of the novel, it was an earlier year. They changed this for some reason), and following World War Terminus, there are few inhabitants of Earth. The people who remain are obstinate (think of Harry Truman— not the President—who refused to leave Mt. St. Helens as it erupted) or "special". We've destroyed earth, leaving it a radioactive wasteland with few habitable locations. Gee, this sounds like it could really happen...
Most Earthlings have fled to colonies such as Mars. You're crazy to remain on Earth. If you move to a colony, you get your very own android slave! However, copulation with an android is illegal, so don't think about moving to Mars so you can get some hot robot ass. "Specials", also known as chickenheads, are humans considered too inferior to leave Earth — we don't want them reproducing or mucking up our new colonies. These specials usually have damaged genes from waste of the war, often resulting in mental retardation.
To keep ourselves company, we buy pets. However, real animals are hard to come by, not to mention expensive. Thus, most of us have electric animals—hence the title. There are a few key items all people have, including machines that manipulate our emotions and a T.V. that gets one government channel. We read about how barren our planet is—but very little about the physical setting (so when you watch Blade Runner, you are seeing the imagination of the screenwriters, director, etc, not Dick's).
Dick is focused more on character development and philosophical themes. There are many characters in the novel who don't appear in the film. Most notably is that of Phil Resch, a fellow bounty hunter. It is through this character that we, and Deckard, try to understand what the difference between a human and android (andy) is. Tests performed on potential andys try to reveal a lack of empathy. Empathy is a trait that only humans possess. So, is that what makes an andy inferior? Resch complicates this, as he is accused of being an android, which is something he had never considered. If he does test out as an android, he believes that suicide is the only resolution.
Androids are implanted with false memories, so if they are never told they are androids—if they are never constantly reminded—they could potentially believe themselves human. If they have emotions, memories and original thoughts, how are they not human? It's a delay in empathy. They feel for humans and animals, as they are taught to. But it is all calculated.
Great sci-fi writers layered theme upon theme in each novel. Because it's sci-fi, it's easier for the masses to consider: what it means to be human, what it means to be a slave, how we are destroying our planet, what the future holds, etc. In Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? we have to consider all of these things. Why are andys considered so inferior? We created them; they are organic, unlike our electric pets. So, is it really ok to hunt them down and murder them? What about Luba Luft, an extremely talented Opera singer who happens to be an andy? Deckard wonders, "how can a talent like that be a liability to our society?" (120). Why is it OK to kill them? Are humans really separated by this magic trait—empathy—if we have no problem killing androids?
This theme manifests itself, for real, in the United States when we consider that anything but heterosexual marriage is banned in many states. It wasn't too long ago that public schools were racially segregated. Standing in any retail location, walking down the street, or sitting in a classroom you feel the same kind of hate and superiority towards Mexicans, whether they are illegal immigrants or not. Why is it OK to blindly hate? In the novel, our cover is, that the androids killed their masters to escape. But why was it ok for them to be enslaved in the first place? We are the ones who gave them the capability to dream and feel, yet we don't allow them to do much more than till our fields or clean our houses (wow, this theme is relevant, yet again).
I need to stop, or I'll give away the whole book and write ten pages no one will read.
My recommendation is a Yes, read this book. Sorry if I got too political, but damnit, that's the point of sci-fi.
KK
Next up: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Understandably, then, I can't help but discuss the movie while discussing the novel. First: if you disliked the movie, you should still read the book. They are quite different. Conversely, if you read the book and don't like it, still give Blade Runner a chance.
If you want to be challenged, read the book after watching the movie or before. I just recommend that you don't "read up" on the book before tackling it. There are so many articles out there that give too much away (e.g. Wikipedia's). I will strive to give little away.
So—the novel. We start out by learning of Deckard, the bounty hunter. He stands to make a thousand bucks for retiring (killing) an android (known in the film as a replicant). We create these androids to be servants on our colonies; they are in our image, and to 99.9% of the population, appear to be human. Deckard is out to retire them because they killed their masters in order to flee servitude and live on Earth.
The year is 2021 (in earlier editions of the novel, it was an earlier year. They changed this for some reason), and following World War Terminus, there are few inhabitants of Earth. The people who remain are obstinate (think of Harry Truman— not the President—who refused to leave Mt. St. Helens as it erupted) or "special". We've destroyed earth, leaving it a radioactive wasteland with few habitable locations. Gee, this sounds like it could really happen...
Most Earthlings have fled to colonies such as Mars. You're crazy to remain on Earth. If you move to a colony, you get your very own android slave! However, copulation with an android is illegal, so don't think about moving to Mars so you can get some hot robot ass. "Specials", also known as chickenheads, are humans considered too inferior to leave Earth — we don't want them reproducing or mucking up our new colonies. These specials usually have damaged genes from waste of the war, often resulting in mental retardation.
To keep ourselves company, we buy pets. However, real animals are hard to come by, not to mention expensive. Thus, most of us have electric animals—hence the title. There are a few key items all people have, including machines that manipulate our emotions and a T.V. that gets one government channel. We read about how barren our planet is—but very little about the physical setting (so when you watch Blade Runner, you are seeing the imagination of the screenwriters, director, etc, not Dick's).
Dick is focused more on character development and philosophical themes. There are many characters in the novel who don't appear in the film. Most notably is that of Phil Resch, a fellow bounty hunter. It is through this character that we, and Deckard, try to understand what the difference between a human and android (andy) is. Tests performed on potential andys try to reveal a lack of empathy. Empathy is a trait that only humans possess. So, is that what makes an andy inferior? Resch complicates this, as he is accused of being an android, which is something he had never considered. If he does test out as an android, he believes that suicide is the only resolution.
Androids are implanted with false memories, so if they are never told they are androids—if they are never constantly reminded—they could potentially believe themselves human. If they have emotions, memories and original thoughts, how are they not human? It's a delay in empathy. They feel for humans and animals, as they are taught to. But it is all calculated.
Great sci-fi writers layered theme upon theme in each novel. Because it's sci-fi, it's easier for the masses to consider: what it means to be human, what it means to be a slave, how we are destroying our planet, what the future holds, etc. In Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? we have to consider all of these things. Why are andys considered so inferior? We created them; they are organic, unlike our electric pets. So, is it really ok to hunt them down and murder them? What about Luba Luft, an extremely talented Opera singer who happens to be an andy? Deckard wonders, "how can a talent like that be a liability to our society?" (120). Why is it OK to kill them? Are humans really separated by this magic trait—empathy—if we have no problem killing androids?
This theme manifests itself, for real, in the United States when we consider that anything but heterosexual marriage is banned in many states. It wasn't too long ago that public schools were racially segregated. Standing in any retail location, walking down the street, or sitting in a classroom you feel the same kind of hate and superiority towards Mexicans, whether they are illegal immigrants or not. Why is it OK to blindly hate? In the novel, our cover is, that the androids killed their masters to escape. But why was it ok for them to be enslaved in the first place? We are the ones who gave them the capability to dream and feel, yet we don't allow them to do much more than till our fields or clean our houses (wow, this theme is relevant, yet again).
I need to stop, or I'll give away the whole book and write ten pages no one will read.
My recommendation is a Yes, read this book. Sorry if I got too political, but damnit, that's the point of sci-fi.
KK
Next up: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
I've heard the name David Sedaris thrown around -- I've heard he writes some funny books. I also knew he was the brother of Amy Sedaris, who is responsible for the creation of my MySpace Hero, Jerri Blank of Strangers with Candy.
Hearing one is funny and being related to Amy Sedaris are certainly qualifications enough for me to pick up a book. So, I borrowed Me Talk Pretty One Day from Nate and read it this last week.
And yes, it was funny. It is an anecdotal book, with each chapter showing us a little from David Sedaris's life. They are amusing, short chapters; you don't have to read the whole book to get the picture. This would be something to keep on your shelf for a little pick-me-up -- just read a chapter and you'll feel better.
Sedaris writes mostly of his childhood speech impediment, teaching a writing class and moving to Paris to learn French. My favorite part of the book was definitely the American in Paris part. It was a hilarious jaunt through foreigners' conceptions of Americans, and of Americans' conceptions of foreigners. I feel I learned a lot about France, too, which was a bonus. Did you know that rather than having a rabbit deliver chocolate on Easter, the French have a bell do the dirty work? Seriously. Sedaris claims that is "fucked up" (180).
A great vignette involves Sedaris using public transportation, where he meets two Fellow Americans. However, because he doesn't say anything to him, and, well, most Americans are idiots, they assume he's a French pickpocket.
It's funny. I definitely recommend reading it if you want to laugh.
Next up: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
I've heard the name David Sedaris thrown around -- I've heard he writes some funny books. I also knew he was the brother of Amy Sedaris, who is responsible for the creation of my MySpace Hero, Jerri Blank of Strangers with Candy.
Hearing one is funny and being related to Amy Sedaris are certainly qualifications enough for me to pick up a book. So, I borrowed Me Talk Pretty One Day from Nate and read it this last week.
And yes, it was funny. It is an anecdotal book, with each chapter showing us a little from David Sedaris's life. They are amusing, short chapters; you don't have to read the whole book to get the picture. This would be something to keep on your shelf for a little pick-me-up -- just read a chapter and you'll feel better.
Sedaris writes mostly of his childhood speech impediment, teaching a writing class and moving to Paris to learn French. My favorite part of the book was definitely the American in Paris part. It was a hilarious jaunt through foreigners' conceptions of Americans, and of Americans' conceptions of foreigners. I feel I learned a lot about France, too, which was a bonus. Did you know that rather than having a rabbit deliver chocolate on Easter, the French have a bell do the dirty work? Seriously. Sedaris claims that is "fucked up" (180).
A great vignette involves Sedaris using public transportation, where he meets two Fellow Americans. However, because he doesn't say anything to him, and, well, most Americans are idiots, they assume he's a French pickpocket.
It's a common mistake for vacationing Americans to assume that everyone around them is French and therefore speaks no English whatsoever. These two didn't seem like exceptionally mean people. Back home they probably would have had the decency to whisper, but here they felt free to say whatever they wanted, face-to-face and in a normal tone of voice. It was the same way someone might talk in front of a building or a painting they found particularly unpleasant. An experienced traveler could have told by looking at my shoes that I wasn't French. And even if I were French, it's not as if English is some mysterious tribal dialect spoken only by anthropologists and a small population of cannibals. They happen to teach English in schools all over the world. There are no eligibility requirements. Anyone can learn it. Even people who reportedly smell bad despite the fact that they've just taken a bath and are wearing clean clothes.
Because they had used the tiresome word froggy and had complained about my odor, I was now licensed to hate this couple as much as I wanted. This made me happy, as I'd wanted to hate them from the moment I'd entered the subway car and seen them hugging the pole. Unleashed by their insults, I was now free to criticize Martin's clothing: the pleated denim shorts, the baseball cap, the T-shirt advertising a San Diego pizza restaurant. Sunglasses hung from his neck on a fluorescent cable, and the couple's bright new his-and-her sneakers suggested that they might be headed somewhere dressy for dinner (221-222).
It's funny. I definitely recommend reading it if you want to laugh.
Next up: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
Monday, June 23, 2008
Choke by Chuck Palahniuk
Choke by Chuck Palahniuk
So I just finished reading Choke. I don't know what to think of it.
When people read Palahniuk and recommend him, is it because they find something deep to analyze? Because they like to be disturbed? Or because they are perverts and like to read about people having sex?
I'm just curious.
Anyway, I figure I will do a little write-up for each book I read this summer. I'll be conservative and say that's a book a week. Here is my favorite passage from Choke:
I would say, yes, definitely worth a read. If anything, read it so you can compare it with the upcoming film of the same title, Choke, which stars the always-fantastic Sam Rockwell and Angelica Huston. If you like to feel uncomfortable while reading, read it. If you want to feel yourself questioning life, read it.
Next up: Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris.
So I just finished reading Choke. I don't know what to think of it.
When people read Palahniuk and recommend him, is it because they find something deep to analyze? Because they like to be disturbed? Or because they are perverts and like to read about people having sex?
I'm just curious.
Anyway, I figure I will do a little write-up for each book I read this summer. I'll be conservative and say that's a book a week. Here is my favorite passage from Choke:
A blind chicken with half a head and no wings, shit smeared all over it, stumbles up against my boot, and when I reach down to pet it, the thing's shivering inside its feathers. It makes a soft clucking, cooing sound that's almost a purr.
It's nice to see something more pathetic than how I feel right now. (160ish)
I would say, yes, definitely worth a read. If anything, read it so you can compare it with the upcoming film of the same title, Choke, which stars the always-fantastic Sam Rockwell and Angelica Huston. If you like to feel uncomfortable while reading, read it. If you want to feel yourself questioning life, read it.
Next up: Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris.
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