Aug 21 2015

In The Woods by Tana French

There was a lot I enjoyed about this book, but I had two very large problems with it, both to do with Rob Ryan. The first is fairly spoilertastic, and less to do with his character than with what I felt was a strange choice on the part of the author. Essentially, you never find out what happened to him as a child. I can perhaps understand this if Tana French intends to eventually tell us what happened in the course of the series, but it makes this installment feel unfinished. There’s also then the issue I had of wanting to be done with Ryan (in fact, the only reason I’m interested in reading the next book is because it purportedly focuses on Cassie) which is the second problem I had, that Ryan is incredibly tiresome.

Again, I don’t know if Ms French’s characterization of him is deliberate, if we’re supposed to find him so insufferable, and I do appreciate the fact that, right up until he makes the incredibly poor decisions that destroy his relationship with Cassie, he actually seems about average, if not outright likeable. Yes, he’s under a lot of stress, and yes, he’s reliving his childhood trauma, but I don’t for an instant believe that what he did is more a result of those than of a carefully nurtured flaw in his character whereby his is the most important, if not the only pain that matters to him. And I’d even find his egotism forgivable if he weren’t also so remarkably stupid. There’s one obnoxious passage where he breaks the fourth wall and talks about what a liar he is and how we, the readers, must have been just as hoodwinked as he was, and I just wanted to shout, “No, you useless excuse of a homicide detective, I knew the answer about 40% of the way in because I’m not a fucking moron!” And then just the stupid, stupid thing he does that compromises the entire case, and no, I’m not talking about keeping quiet about his true identity but just common attention to detail. Unbefuckinglievable.

This book would have worked fine as a character study of a deeply flawed individual, but as a police procedural it was horrendous. The saving grace was Cassie, and even then I felt a little uncomfortable at how close she came to being objectified as the “cool girl” (see: Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, which has only improved in my memory) by the sad sack narrator who done her wrong. You’d think for once that my Personal Issues would have me take some sort of satisfaction in what mirrors, at least emotionally, an episode from my own history, but it felt… self-serving, as if Ms French was trying to understand and excuse a toxic personality while simultaneously beatifying his victim. It always bothers me when a book forces an agenda at the expense of the story, and I’m afraid that that’s just what Ms French does with In The Woods.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/08/21/in-the-woods-by-tana-french/

Aug 18 2015

Spirits Abroad by Zen Cho

I was initially resistant towards reading this book. If it was bad, I would feel a certain kind of “malu,” the nearly indescribable shade of embarrassment Malaysians feel when one of their own commits a faux pas, akin but not quite the same as the East Asian concept of losing “face.” And if it was good, I would just writhe with jealousy, because this is the kind of thing I’m supposed to be doing but keep finding excuses not to.

But of the two, I’d rather the latter, especially when the writing is as thoughtful and witty as Zen Cho’s. Her short stories transported me back to living in Malaysia, with its rich and unique assortment of supernatural beings. That said, it wasn’t a short story regarding a phenomenon unique to Malaysia that truly gripped me, but The Fish Bowl, the most affecting short story I’ve read in a long time. Su Yin’s pain, and the lengths she’d go to in order to preserve her careful facade, made me hurt for her. The only unsuccessful story in the collection, I felt, was The Earth Spirit’s Favorite Anecdote, which read like not great fanfic ahem.

One thing that bothered me about this collection was the need the author felt to add trigger warnings to her stories. I think it’s considerate of her, but this is a book of supernatural short stories, ffs. Any reader going into this without being prepared for disturbing imagery needs to maaaaybe not read books for grownups.

Anyway, loved this collection, tho some stories were definitely better than others. I wonder how it would read to someone unfamiliar with Malaysia, whether it would have the same resonance. Hmm, maybe I should press it one of the other women in my Ingress book club and find out.

And another after-effect of the book? It’s inspiring me, ever so slightly, to write more, tho at present, I’m still just germinating ideas in my brain. Maybe when the kids are in school :P.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/08/18/spirits-abroad-by-zen-cho/

Aug 16 2015

Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty

This was over 400 pages, really? It was a total breeze to go through: entertaining without sacrificing meaning, hilarious and suspenseful by turn. I was completely in love with Madeline throughout, even tho she and I differ in one important respect: she adores conflict, but I too often find myself dragged unwillingly into it. I pretty much loved everything about this book, tho I felt it faltered slightly in telling Jane’s real reason for coming to Pirriwee. A comic masterpiece, especially relevant to modern mothers of young children. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/08/16/big-little-lies-by-liane-moriarty/

Aug 15 2015

Night Film by Marisha Pessl

I wasn’t inclined to like the novel itself, but the really cool interactive app made this worthwhile for me. I loved the film posters and publicity photos I uncovered that way (and that creepy diary!) tho the audio clips were more hit and miss. If I never have to encounter the tedious and whiny Love Song Of J Alfred Prufrock again, it won’t be too soon.

Anyway, the book. If you love gory, violent horror movies, you will likely also love Night Film. I don’t, so a lot of the book was wasted on me. I appreciated some of the atmospherics, but a lot of the hysteria, and even McGrath’s ordeal at The Peak, elicited the same annoyed “Jesus, get a grip” reaction I feel when forced to watch schlocky occult horror. I appreciate what Marisha Pessl was trying to do with this book, to explore the line between science and magic in the human brain, and to pace the novel like one of the titular movies. While the latter endeavor was mostly successful depending on how much you buy in to the cultural commodity of underground movies, I felt the first aim relied a bit too much on hand-waving (particularly with the “oh, he’s just crazy, OR IS HE?!?!” treatment of the Spider,) which is a disappointment in an author this meticulous. I get that she was likely being deliberately vague in order to leave room for doubt in the reader’s mind, but it just came out muddled. It was interesting to see her continue to explore the theme of fathers and daughters she’d examined in the superlative Special Topics In Calamity Physics, and I very much enjoyed the almost bittersweet nature of the ending, but I just don’t feel that Night Film worked very well as a book. Fortunately, it was intended as a multimedia experience, which made it better. On its own, though, it’s not the greatest novel.

Also, argh, the italics. Everywhere and for no good reason. It was exhausting. <--- Me sharing my pain, with apologies to you, dear reader.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/08/15/night-film-by-marisha-pessl/

Aug 11 2015

Landline by Rainbow Rowell

Deeply moral and achingly romantic, this is a book about a woman inadvertently reaching into the past to try to fix problems in her marriage to a man she desperately loves. Rainbow Rowell is a terrific writer of dialog and characters, and though Landline felt a bit shallow in places (by which I don’t mean superficial, just that there was an odd lack of detail and depth despite there being much of emotional substance,) it’s a compulsively readable book. The magical telephone conceit was cute and deftly handled, if clearly requiring a large suspension of disbelief: I considered its use a sort of American magical realism. I also thought Georgie a terrific heroine, even as I had both warm feelings and significant concerns regarding her primary relationships with men.

Firstly, there’s the best friend, Seth. It’s so freaking difficult to find books that celebrate male-female friendships that aren’t bogged down by overt a/o physical romance. It was refreshing to see Georgie stand up for her friendship with Seth, though I thought it a bit wish-fulfillment-y for him to declare his love for her — because ffs, I tell my friends I love them all the time, it’s no big deal. And also, who doesn’t love their close personal friends? They become like family, but ones you choose. Anyway, it felt a little unnatural for the character as he’d been depicted up to that point, but people can surprise you, I suppose.

Latterly, there’s the husband, Neal. I didn’t really like him. I mean, he does a lot for the family, but he’s super passive-aggressive, and it was difficult for me to watch Georgie turn herself inside out for him. It really bothered me that Georgie seemed to be okay with being the only one working on their relationship. As the breadwinner of the family, Georgie deserved a lot more slack, I felt, for working so hard at a job she loved, especially with the opportunity of a lifetime looming before her. I felt that Neal was perfectly justified in heading back to Omaha with the kids, but his silent treatment of her from thereon in was pretty shitty.

And I think this speaks to the pressures that a lot of modern women feel, especially those who are the primary earners in their families. I felt like Georgie was being punished for being ambitious — and while I know that that’s not at all what Ms Rowell was going for with this book, it still bothered me that poor Georgie felt so responsible for so much. Earn the money, achieve your ambitions, parent your kids, be a good daughter and sister: that’s all well and good, but why does she ALSO have to be the main person responsible for the health and happiness of her marriage?

Otherwise, as enjoyable as you’d expect from Rainbow Rowell (tho I still liked Fangirl better.)

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/08/11/landline-by-rainbow-rowell/

Aug 09 2015

Seven Kinds Of Hell by Dana Cameron

A cut above the standard urban fantasy novel. A lot of the books in the genre read as if they’re written by people emotionally stunted in middle school, but Dana Cameron evades the worst of the genre tropes to present an exhilaratingly globe-trotting paranormal thriller. It was also really nice to see an author care enough about her readers’ intelligence to consider all the possible loopholes in her plot’s logic. Which isn’t to say that this was the perfect book: there were still parts that felt a little too exposition-y a/o deus ex machina, and Zoe does spend an awful lot of time feeling sorry for herself, but the latter at least is somewhat justifiable given her circumstances (which is not something I can say for the sad sack protagonists of most urban fantasy.) I’m honestly looking forward to reading the rest of the books in this series, which I’ll be borrowing from Amazon as well soon.

One thing I noticed tho: having to pause reading this for work, I found when I returned to it, that I felt like I’d lost a certain amount of momentum. I’m not sure if this is an urban fantasy or a thriller thing, but it was notable enough that I’m going to keep an eye out for this happening with other books in future.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/08/09/seven-kinds-of-hell-by-dana-cameron/

Jul 29 2015

Paper Towns by John Green

I think that if I hadn’t read and loved The Fault In Our Stars first, I’d likely be more charitable to this book, which was pretty good overall, just not as good. And I guess that’s unfair to Paper Towns, which is a pretty good mystery on its own (and I really liked how convincingly the narrative sounded like an adolescent boy’s) but I didn’t really care for the presentation of the ending or, even, the presentation of the philosophies that underpinned the entire work. I mean, I liked the story elements, and I liked the thoughts behind them, but after the awesome narrative arc of the night of revenge, then the investigation, then the road trip, the ending just felt flat and kinda confused. I guess we’re supposed to draw our own conclusions as to what happens next, and I’m usually okay with that kind of thing, but the last few paragraphs felt unnecessarily contrived. Which means I likely won’t watch the movie (despite my curiosity re: Cara Delevingne,) but I didn’t watch A Fault In Our Stars either (tho that was because of my antipathy towards Shailene Woodley, if I’m being perfectly honest.)

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/07/29/paper-towns-by-john-green/

Jul 29 2015

Romanticism and Positivism – The History of Polish Literature by Czeslaw Milosz

What could Polish literature do after Pan Tadeusz, a poem that Milosz said, “gradually won recognition as the highest achievement in all Polish literature”?

For starters, literary eminence was contested by Mickiewicz’s contemporaries. “Besides his unrequited love, the other passion running through [Juliusz] Słowacki’s life was his desire first to equal, then to compete with, Mickiewicz for the position of ‘national’ poet.” (p. 233) Słowacki grew up in a literary household; his father held the chair of literature at the University of Wilno (now Vilnius), and his mother showed talent in the same area. Słowacki was “an introvert, well-read in Polish, French, and English literature, he was to be a lonely man all his life, the epitome of a melancholy Romantic.” (p. 232) His early poetry was “somewhat analogous to Shelley’s,” and later moved “toward an ever greater exuberance of sound and colors, toward what may be termed a revival of the Polish Baroque.” (p. 233)

Continue reading

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/07/29/romanticism-and-positivism-the-history-of-polish-literature-by-czeslaw-milosz/

Jul 27 2015

Simple Storys by Ingo Schulze

Writing in the mid-1990s in post-Communist Poland, Andrzej Sapkowski produced The Time of Contempt. Writing in the mid-1990s in post-Communist eastern Germany, Ingo Schulze produced Simple Storys (the plural is not correct in German either; it’s symptomatic of the anglicisms and pseudo-anglicisms that entered the language at that time).

The two books could hardly be more different. Sapkowski wrote fantastic adventures in which Poland’s history and traditions can be discerned, if a reader knows where to look. Schulze wrote 29 closely observed, hyper-realistic vignettes about people in a small East German city, in which the past is both omnipresent and invisible, mostly present in the things that the characters do not talk about, but occasionally bursting out to shape their lives and choices.

Simple Storys is brilliant, and demanding. Writing sometimes in the first person, sometimes in a tightly limited third person, Schulze shows what his characters do, and very little else. His stripped-down language leaves much of the construction of the story to the reader. There is virtually no signposting, very little is explicitly stated about characters’ inner states, even the identification of speakers in a scene is omitted as often as not. This method suits the down-and-out atmosphere of provincial eastern Germany — the book is subtitled “A novel from the East German provinces” — in the years following the collapse of the Communist system. The old ways have fallen away, and people are feeling their way toward how to get by in a newly unified Germany.

The political seems distant, and then it transpires that one character had informed on another years before, and the repercussions are still echoing. Or another had been fired in the political housecleaning that swept East German institutions such as schools and universities. Or that yet another had gone from the security services into bookkeeping, but still had a thriving sideline in using inside knowledge to settle scores.

But Schulze does not give political events or causes any greater weight than the other events that he describes in his stories. Which is to say, practically no weight at all, as he describes things that happen in an affectless style that occasionally, unaccountably lapses into the beautiful. His characters’ live intersect through affairs, friendships, coincidences; most of the stories start in media res, and there isn’t a Hollywood character arc to be found anywhere in the novel’s 313 pages.

They are simple stories. And yet. And yet they perfectly capture a period, a culture, a set of circumstances that was vanishing around Schulze even as he was writing its definitive chronicle. Simple Storys reminded me of Mutmaßungen über Jakob by Uwe Johnson, another great East German novel, but one that is also dependent on readers’ historical knowledge to make sense of the characters’ actions. When the silences are as important as the words on the page, a work requires its readers to know where the silences are, what they mean, and as the period of the book recedes into history, it becomes less and less accessible. The East German provinces of Simple Storys are already 20 years gone, and the silences are getting more difficult to hear.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/07/27/simple-storys-by-ingo-schulze/

Jul 27 2015

Alif the Unseen by G. Willow Wilson

I had so many problem with this book! And so many compliments for it, too! First, the good bits: G Willow Wilson’s politics are solid and smart and she clearly knows what she’s talking about regarding the Middle East and class and social distinctions. I also really liked her ventures into metaphysics, theology and, with a caveat that I’ll discuss later, religion. Some of her characterizations were vivid and compelling (Vikram is the best thing about this novel, seriously, with Sheikh Bilal a close second) and everybody and their mom has talked about how awesome it is to read quality popular (urban) fantasy that isn’t primarily about white people and western culture.

But there were parts that didn’t ring quite true. The technology, for example, seemed glossed over to a large degree. The theory behind Alif’s computing seemed much more solid than the actual technical depiction. That’s forgivable: after all, the point of the story is to discuss the (really cool) ideas without bogging the book down in exhaustive detail (looking at you, Neal Stephenson.) But you can tell that there’s more enthusiasm than experience behind the discussions of computing, and as a former IT person myself, it was a little discomfiting to read as I felt constantly on the verge of being incapable of suspending disbelief to enjoy the rest of the book.

That wasn’t even my main issue with Alif The Unseen, which started at p83 with the throwaway sentence “She really was as smart as a man.” Augh. Fuck fuck fuck and augh!!! So Alif is our POV third-person narrator, and I get that we’re seeing everything from his perspective here but there is a certain authorial responsibility to make sure that such casual sexism, if it is meant to be just the flawed narrator’s viewpoint, is clearly marked as JUST the flawed narrator’s viewpoint, else the author becomes complicit in presenting same as her own. I wasn’t bothered when Alif, or any of the other characters for that matter, said anything awful, because that’s well within their roles in the story, but for that one line to be written without specific attachment to one character’s POV made it seem like the author was TOTALLY OKAY with this kind of thinking, i.e. that men are the benchmark for intelligence. This was later compounded by a whole lot of fuckery regarding how women’s world is civilization and women’s power comes through being passive and mysterious and a whole lot of yin-yang bullshit that made me want to punch through a wall.

Tho that didn’t even annoy me as much as the characterization of the three main women in the book did. Let’s get The Convert out of the way first, who’s never given a name because she’s OBVIOUSLY a stand-in for the author. I did enjoy her as a narrative device, especially when discussing racism and the clash of civilizations, but her fate was such obvious wish-fulfillment that it was uncomfortable to read.

I also didn’t enjoy Intisar’s narrative arc, probably because I really liked her! And, to be fair, I did think that her actions in the first and last thirds of the book made total sense. I just have no idea why she showed up at Al Basheera Mosque and suddenly turned into a whiny baby. It felt more like G Willow Wilson needing a bad guy than a natural extension of what Intisar might actually do.

HERE BE SPOILERS

TURN BACK YE WHO FEAR SUCH NOW

I also have a huge problem with the Intisar-Dina dichotomy, which is presented as a clash between pragmatism and principle. Intisar thinks mainly of what needs doing now, of how to survive, if not enjoy, the present and the foreseeable future, whereas Dina is focused on sticking to her own rigid moral code, no matter how shitty it makes her feel, because she’s convinced that that is what will bring her happiness in the end. These are both valid ways of dealing with life, but Ms Wilson paints Intisar as the bad guy, whereas Dina is a saint. And that’s my main problem with AtU: Dina is the fucking worst. Objectively speaking, I really, really hate the “consolation girlfriend” trope, and I spent a good part of the first third of the book hoping against hope that this was not the fate for her, because Alif kinda sucks, and his sudden decision that he loves her is entirely unconvincing. Also, the whole “she won’t marry anyone else now so I HAVE to get back to her” is gross, because obviously the only way Dina will ever find happiness is to be stuck with this idiot for the rest of her life.

That aside, I hated Dina herself. She reminded me of some of the smugly hypocritical girls from boarding school who always found justifications for their selective application of religion, and enjoyed making other people feel bad about their own behavior (because of course Dina is one of those killjoy bitches who disapproves of women laughing in public.) The incredibly specious argument regarding music, for example, was entirely maddening. Wearing clothing isn’t the sharia of the innocent either, Dina: that doesn’t make not wearing clothes an acceptable interpretation of religious law, especially from someone who chose to wear a niqab due to pride alone (btw, not even the strict Muslim boarding school I went to banned music because that, like the niqab which school also discouraged, isn’t an actual part of Islam at all.) Hilarious that she then tells Alif off for being a hypocrite later. I was also a little uncomfortable at her confrontation of the demons near the end: I kept thinking, “Would I feel comfortable if she were Christian and fighting demons by quoting the Bible?” I have zero interest in reading Christian fiction because proselytization is something I’d like to avoid in reading for pleasure, and that scene felt distressingly close to being the Muslim version of a Left Behind chapter.

Anyway, good book, if entirely problematic in its depiction of women, which was really disappointing to me as a Muslim woman who’s experienced living in both liberal and conservative milieus. That’s likely why I’m harder on this book than most of its readers, in addition to being a former programmer and current book critic who was disappointed that the Alf Yeom wasn’t explored further. Who or what was Farukhuaz really? When she appears to Alif in his fever dream of coding, is she meant to be evil? And how am I supposed to believe that Alif only got as far as the story about Vikram when he was supposed to be using the entire text to write his code (which again led to my discomfiture re: being able to suspend disbelief.) Eh, whatever, if you can get over all that, then a fun, intelligent read. Clearly, I couldn’t.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2015/07/27/alif-the-unseen-by-g-willow-wilson/