I already knew fossil fuel companies were slimy and money-hungry, avoiding environmental regulations whenever pos...moreThis book is WOW. This book is yuck.
I already knew fossil fuel companies were slimy and money-hungry, avoiding environmental regulations whenever possible. I knew that the U.S. makes a habit of exporting our dirtiest businesses, and our trash (literally), to poor countries without the political sway to complain about it. I knew that the inhabitants of many small, low-lying islands, who have been faced with the dire consequences of global warming already, have been among the most vocal to speak out about the need for policy change.
Here's what I did not realize.
I did not realize that, even now, oil companies like Shell literally fund and militarize tyrannical governments that won't hold them accountable for harm to the environment or the people of their country. I did not realize it was so common for them to do this, and then say they had no political sway when the government started literally killing those who start speaking out against the behavior of oil companies.
I did not realize oil companies have been excited about the new possibilities opened up by global warming, as the arctic continues to melt and make it more practical to start drilling up there. I did not realize the U.S. government was excited to help them expedite this process, by clearing away all the pesky red tape that would keep them from doing so.
I did not realize that it is a cold, hard fact that companies like Chevron spend more money advertising how much they care about alternative fuel sources than they actually spend on developing alternative fuels. Although this isn't too hard to imagine.
I did not realize that, at the same time Barack Obama was gently slapping the hand of B.P. after the Deepwater Horizon disaster, he was making sure there was a maximum cap for the cost oil companies would have to pay in the event of a oil disasters in Indian waters, no matter how tremendous the disaster is. The maximum cap? 0.5% of what we expected B.P. to pay when a disaster happened in the U.S.
I did not realize that we only hear about the oil spills that we are expected to be interested in. For instance, we haven't heard much at all about the Exxon disaster's-worth of oil that has been spilled in Nigeria EVERY YEAR, for more than the last thirty years.I would have thought this was newsworthy.
I did not know that, when the Deepwater Horizon disaster happened, B.P. was relying on clean-up methods that were more than forty years old and had been developed for fresh water, because they had never invested in developing clean-up methods since then, or for different ecosystems. I didn't realize that, while B.P. was so clueless about actually cleaning it up, they sent planes out at night to douse the most heavily polluted parts of the water in a chemical that would cause the oil to clump and sink, doing possibly more environmental damage, but making it much harder to determine how large the disaster was.
I really, really wish I didn't have to take this book back to the library tomorrow, so I could write a full review with sources, ala Bird Brian. Instead, You just get to see me in this state of shock as I try to make sense of all this. If you can find a copy of this, I definitely recommend it. (less)
That's my review of the book. What I'm really here to talk about is the movie, and this is going to have...moreI like these books. The third was my favorite.
That's my review of the book. What I'm really here to talk about is the movie, and this is going to have spoilers like you wouldn't believe. Just warning you.
We just returned from watching the Hunger Games movie, and the experience was deeply disturbing. It should be disturbing, of course: we watched a movie about teenagers being forced to kill one another for the entertainment of a wealthy, lucky few. So, it's not disturbing that the movie itself was disturbing.
What was REALLY disturbing, though, was the audience. As one teenager beat another one to death--a large male beating a small female--the audience burst into cheers because the girl was essentially a badguy. The girl was, at most, 13 or 14. The actress looked the appropriate age. The cheering didn't even stop when her small body was dropped into the grass and the camera focused in on her lifeless face.
We're sitting in a huge theater, watching a film where 24 children are required to fight to the death against one another. There is a mild amount of romance mixed in with all of the carnage, and the kiss between Peeta and Katniss was enough to get a large part of the audience whistling and squeeling with delight.
It was like they were watching an entirely different movie from the one Joy and I were watching.
I remember reading some reviews of the book pointing out how many reviews focused entirely on the half-assed romance story, ENTIRELY MISSING THE POINT OF THE SERIES. It wasn't until seeing the audience reaction to the film that this really sunk in. Are these people entirely oblivious that THEY are the audience to the Hunger Games? Do they really not recognize the Capital is a slightly exaggerated version of us wealthy first-worlders? Granted, we don't take two tributes from each district. We tend to attack people outright, police their countries, and then replace their political structures with something more to our liking. But, a rose by any other name smells just as sweet.
The book attempted to challenge our expectations, and the movie tried to as well. The violence constantly felt WRONG. Each death gave me the same queasy, emotional feeling I get when I watch The Lord of the Flies. Instead of casting the teenagers with a bunch of attractive twenty-somethings, they actually chose children, most of whom did not look ready for combat. They made a point of showing you children who were dead, but not giving you the twisted satisfaction of drawn-out and exciting fight scenes. This movie had much more brutality than action. And the scene with Cato breaking down at the end was almost perfect, although his death was more drawn out and difficult to stomach in the book.
But it doesn't matter what Suzanne Collins writes, or what the director directs, if the audience is oblivious to anything challenging their world views. I suppose if you're looking hard enough for an 'action' movie, you can find one in The Hunger Games. And if you only care about which boy Katniss ends up with in the end, you might totally miss the fact that YOU'RE THE FUCKING CAPITAL, and BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO THE CAPITAL.
We've decided to just rent the Hunger Games movies from here on out, because they're troubling enough without having to deal with the audience as well. (less)
The ratings on this book tend to be polarized here on Goodreads, with lots of people giving it 5 or 4 stars, and quite a few giving it 1. This is beca...moreThe ratings on this book tend to be polarized here on Goodreads, with lots of people giving it 5 or 4 stars, and quite a few giving it 1. This is because this book is upfront about where it stands politically: Howard Zinn runs with the notion that poor people tend to be exploited by rich ones. (GASP!) If you agree with this general human tendency, yet STILL believe we should teach the NERFed version of American History--where Columbus is a swell fella, the Native Americans were using the land wrong anyway, and rich people have no advantages over poor ones--I'm not sure how you can reconcile these ideas.
One common critique of Howard Zinn is that this book, if taught by itself, will present a skewed version of history that inspires a general hatred of rich people. So, I fully expect these reviewers to give low ratings to every history book, including those that pretend to be objective. By giving a low rating to only the books that point out flaws in the U.S. government, these people are essentially admitting the direction of their own bias. Of course, we're all biased, whether we're writing history books or reviewing them. If I weren't politically biased towards LIKING this book, I'd probably give it a four-star rating because there were some topics I wish Zinn would've gone into that he didn't.
All historians have an agenda, so the obvious solution is to teach from two or more textbooks with conflicting views. There. Problem solved! Moving on...
I'm gonna talk about the book itself now, so that I remember to do so. Then, I'm going to get into political rant mode, because I want to talk about why Zinn and the Tea Party SHOULD be best friends if people were more rational than they are.
The Part Where I Talk About the Book:
Zinn, in the newest versions of this book, discusses U.S. history from its origins all the way up to Bush Jr.'s presidency. Throughout, he pulls no punches, questioning the motives of those in power regardless of their political party, because there's really not that much difference between the right and the left. He covers a whole lot, even considering the length of the book, and has done a lot of work since the book's original publication to add sections addressing the plight of those segments of our population that were ignored in the earliest printings. Keep in mind as you're reading this that there really WASN'T anything like this book when it was written. Before Zinn, no schools taught history from the perspective of the lower classes...in fact, most of them STILL don't. I know mine didn't. So, I think we need more historians like Zinn, willing to challenge the assumptions we make about history. Like every academic field, history should be evolving and growing more nuanced over time.
I should've known I'm incapable of actually FOCUSING on the book.
The Part Where I Talk About Other Stuff:
As those who have talked to me about politics know, I have a lot of frustration with the tea party. First off, some of them don't realize how batshit nuts Sarah Palin is. That's bad. And, that's not nearly as bad as the fact that they don't realize how batshit nuts GLENN BECK is.
Glenn Beck: Professional media clown.
But, more importantly, the so-called Tea Party developed at the same time that a democrat entered office, developed under the leadership of republicans, yet developed saying they were independent from this big-business-focused party, and that they were all about lowering taxes. Pardon me while I take that with a VERY BIG grain of salt. I'm still willing to be proven wrong, though, if it turns out that the tea party actually DOES want to cut taxes, and not just assist the federal government in deep-throating big business a little bit more. Until SOME political party is willing to come right out and say, "Guys, we're spending more than 500 billion THIS YEAR on the military. We could pretty much kill everything alive a few times over with the weapons we have stockpiled. Maybe it's time to think about cutting part of THAT spending instead of complaining about health care expenses." Until someone comes right out and says that, I'm not declaring my allegiance to any party.
I have yet to hear anyone willing to challenge the importance of the military industrial complex...anyone in politics, that is. A lot of normal humans think this is a pretty fucking solid place to cut spending.
The government can only be improved if we as citizens are willing to call it out when it acts in ways that are unethical. The notion that patriotism is connected to a blind faith in the current version of the political structure is foolish. Those who really believe in freedom will recognize that freedom applies to everyone, including those of us who want to examine whether or not the government is operating in our interests. After examining it, a lot of people are convinced it isn't.
That said, we're all gonna get along better when we stop focusing on the issues that we don't agree on, and focus on what we think a government should do. When we say the government is "of the people, by the people, and for the people," I think "the people" includes everyone who lives here, including those of us who didn't make any money on the bailout, and those of us who don't want to help finance murder abroad through "Overseas Contingency Operations." I would think pro-lifers would agree with me on that.
Anyway, I'm going to climb off my soap box now, but I give this book my recommendation. Read it if your American history education hasn't included enough skepticism. (less)
I hope you don't forget about me when school starts again. You shan't? Right?
6th February 2011 Dear Michael,...more 6 January 2011 Dear Michael,
I hope you don't forget about me when school starts again. You shan't? Right?
6th February 2011 Dear Michael,
22 February 2011
2 March 2011
I have missed our long strolls down the avenues, discussing good books and laughing, the gondola rides, walking down the beach, 69'ing in the back of the church, and all that other romantic stuff we've done over the years. But, you should see the way they're treating me at this school! I'm, at present, chained up in a dungeon where I'm forced to read about sustainability, social media, and composition theory for hours on end. No matter how much I beg and I plead, they make me research communities in World of Warcraft and Second Life by playing these 'games.' It's oh-so-very hard.
Okay, so it's mostly fun. But, it's very time consuming.
I haven't forgotten you, nor have I forgotten the way you taught me to spend forever reviewing a book while barely talking about the book--or even books in general. Or, the way you supported my addiction to crab-related horror novels. (By the way, those crab books STILL aren't in the mail, but I'm getting there.) I remember all the good times we've had, goodreads. And, I especially want to thank you for convincing me to give Virginia Woolf another chance.
When I give a five-star rating to more than one book by the same author, I start wondering if I should demote all but my favorite. Clearly, they can't be entirely equal books. But, Mrs. Dalloway was amazing in its own way. I would definitely recommend Orlando as a more necessary read, though. This is such a strange, dynamic, HILARIOUS book...in very brief form, this is the story of a young man growing up to be a young woman, and doing so over several hundred years. It's magical realism way before Marquez, and it's full of beautiful writing that constantly surprises you. The tone is much more playful than anything else I've read by Woolf (he says knowingly, with two other Woolf novels on his shelves). But, like David Bowie in spandex pants, there's clearly something substantial and weighty under the surface. This book, like other works by Woolf, deals with some major issues of sexism and gender. I would elaborate on that, but I haven't had my coffee yet.
The final off-topic point I want to bring up is this:
How does one review a book so unusual? Michael wondered.
This raw food diet still had everything inside churning like the clothes as they spun around t...moreHow does one review a book so unusual? Michael wondered.
This raw food diet still had everything inside churning like the clothes as they spun around the driers. The clinks as buttons slid along the metallic sides, the rasp of the air conditioner that was never turned off because it didn't work at all anyway, the light coming through the pain of the laundry room's one small window, as Michael looked out upon the shimmering light that hit the water of the swimming pool, always clean, always ready for someone to dive in, despite the mid-December chill in the air, despite the fact that not a toe would touch that water for months.
Michael scratched his nose with his right index finger. He didn't know how to review Mrs. Dalloway.
But isn't that always the challenge with good books? With those books that open their eyes and meet yours head on; where an exchange is made; those books that take something from you, and give you something else in its place, your spleen now in the book, a glowing white light in its place. What does that even mean, he wondered? Can one give back to a book? Or does one only take? Does one only "give back" by paying the author for the text? What a cold process that seems. But, what can someone give to a book that has been around for nearly a century--the author's cells now broken apart from one another and spread about, either throughout the dirt around the space where her coffin once was, or still locked away inside (and let it be known, Michael thought once again, that I never want to be put inside of a coffin; I'd rather be experimented upon, or used by Von Hagens in one of his exhibits)--what can one contribute to a work that has been declared Permanent, a diamond that will not age as time passes, like The Illiad,, like Othello, The Portrait of a Lady, or Confessions of an Heiress?
Perhaps if I hadn't eaten so much crappy food before switching my diet, I wouldn't be rushing out of the laundromat every half an hour to take a dump, Michael thought.
After finishing laundry, he decided he would take the light rail to campus and finally buy his school books. He didn't know why, but the trip on the light rail from home to campus was something he still looked forward to, even after taking it dozens of times: there was nothing he could put his finger on regarding the experience that was noteworthy, yet he smiled as he thought about the trip. Was it the mythical stature he'd given to education that made this trip enjoyable? The pilgrimage to a place of learning, the journey towards knowing? But, he'd come to terms with the fact that none knew, truly; all viewed the world through their own terministic screens (he enjoyed working terms he'd learned from grad school into his thoughts, though he'd feel like a jackass to drop them into conversation). Everyone had a socially conceived network of abstract notions through which every flower, airplane, stray dog had to be filtered before it registered in the mind. We place forms upon everything, when there is truly no division.
He went next door to the gym, because he couldn't hold it any longer. Again, there was nobody working out, although the television that hung from the ceiling was playing some soap opera, the six fans that swayed dangerously as they whirled above the workout equipment.
How much power is wasted every day to keep a city humming incessantly? Could we not leave the television off, the fans off, the lights off, until someone came in to actually use the facilities? Couldn't the air conditioner be turned off during the winter, or taken out, since it does fuckall anyway? (Joy often laughed at him when he used British words, like fuckall and rubbish.)
Like many times in the past, he wished he could live somewhere that stars were clearly visible. He remembered driving through the expanses of New Mexico, the lights from the cars the only things breaking the darkness, hindering the starlight. Perhaps, instead of going with Joy out to the casino this weekend, they would drive far out of the city and do some star gazing. The starry sky, like chasing fireflies in the summer, was something from a collective childhood he tapped into occasionally during reveries; he was born in a big city, and moved to another, yet pined for both fireflies and starry skies. But he couldn't stand the thought of living outside the city--there was fuckall to do out there.
After finishing his movement, and washing his hands for forty five seconds, he left the gym and walked past the swimming pool. One of the neighborhood's many stray cats slunk along the beige fence like a secret agent, half-hidden by the flowering bushes. The sky was Arizona cloudy, which is called Mostly Sunny anywhere else; a sweep of clouds covered half the sky, while the rest was entirely blue. It was a beautiful day, December 29th of 2010.
He went back into the dim, florescent light of the laundry room. Opening the thick book he'd brought with him, he thought again about all the reviews he still needed to catch up on. And he still didn't know how to review Mrs. Dalloway. And he was totally at a loss about how to review Orlando, but he put that out of his mind as he gazed down into A People's History of the United States. His eyes met Howard Zinn's, and he resisted the urge to look away.(less)
WARNING: The posts below are purely fictional. They never happened, and were not posted by real people. Any similarities to anyone, including myself,...moreWARNING: The posts below are purely fictional. They never happened, and were not posted by real people. Any similarities to anyone, including myself, are purely your imagination. Even the posts posted by real people were not posted by real people.
Any similarities between this thread and reality are entirely coincidental. But, that scary picture of the blond guy crying? Oh, that's real. That's so sad, and so real. (less)
Let me start with this: I love dystopias. Some people are fascinated by zombies, some love post-apocalyptic novels, some like undead porn. I've always...moreLet me start with this: I love dystopias. Some people are fascinated by zombies, some love post-apocalyptic novels, some like undead porn. I've always loved dark visions of how the world could end up. In fact, one of my college essays was an elaborate discussion of how older dystopias (We, 1984, and Brave New World) got it wrong (and right).
This was the scariest dystopia I've ever read.
Part of the reason might be that I'm older now than I was when reading these other books. Maybe it's that I'm more politically aware, and see more connections between the zealotry in this book and events of recent years. Maybe...well, maybe this is just really scary shit. All Atwood had to do was mention the possibility of nuclear power plants leaking because of unexpected earthquakes and I was thinking, "Why not?" All she had to do was mention women being treated as second class citizens to get me thinking, "Been there, still doing that." And with a convenient re-reading of The Bible underlying all these horrible social changes, I could imagine the majority of people buying whatever the priests are selling.
So, yes: scary, scary, scary, scary shit.
Offred is a surrogate womb for the wife of a wealthy man. If she manages to concieve with him, during this time period when healthy babies are rare (most of the babies are called unbabies or Shredders, although I don't think it's explained what exactly a shredder is), Offred will avoid being declared an Unwoman and being sent to a concentration camp. Of course, the guy who she's required to fuck is an old man who is probably impotent since the previous handmaids have given him no children.
The Handmaid's Tale tells Offred's story: the various humiliations she undergoes, her suffering, her small triumphs of freedom and fighting the system. One thing I love about this book is Offred, a strong character who struggles with the system in believable ways. That is, her thoughts simulateously rebel against the society's restrictions and in some ways give in to them. Many of her rebellions are only inside of her head. The society is so restrictive that even these internal rebellions seem like triumphs.
I almost cried twice. I didn't, of course, because I am man, and man don't cry. With this book, I had to put it down a couple times and give myself a minute because it was so overwhelming.
As with most books I give five stars, I find that my review is sucking dog cock. Why is it so hard to write a good review of a really good book? Is it because nothing you write is really going to do it justice? Is it because it's almost impossible to be sarcastic and witty when saying nice things? Whatever the reason, I want to make you read this book. GO! READ IT! THIS THE REAL SHIT! (less)
Best friggin' Golden Book EVAH. If you haven't read it, put down the bollocks you're reading right now and go get it. It's Grover, bitch! I rest my ca...moreBest friggin' Golden Book EVAH. If you haven't read it, put down the bollocks you're reading right now and go get it. It's Grover, bitch! I rest my case. (less)
Horror fiction is as difficult to define as any literary genre, but it often follows the same structural pattern: things start off normal (at least in...more Horror fiction is as difficult to define as any literary genre, but it often follows the same structural pattern: things start off normal (at least in the context of the story), then slowly horrific or otherworldly elements begin to creep into the story. These elements continue growing, continue taking more and more control of the characters' lives, and become more of a driving force behind the characters' actions. Finally, the climax arrives, wherein we discover whether the characters will succumb to this horror or whether they will somehow triumph/escape from it.
This is a theme that runs through just about every horror film ("Drag Me to Hell," "Hellraiser," and "From Hell" as three examples with one word in common), and also much of the best horror literature ("The Tell-Tale Heart," "The Yellow Wallpaper," "Frankenstein," "Where are You Going, Where Have You Been?" most of Stephen King's canon, and, in an inverted manner, "Blood Meridian"). Plenty of exceptions don't follow this structure, but it's very common in what is accepted as horror literature. And, an actual outside force can be the horrific element, like in Stephen King's "It," or the horrific could be the descent into madness, like in "The Yellow Wallpaper."
Now that I'm done waxing eloquent on horror fiction, I'm going to tell you about a lovely, frightening ghost story called "Beloved."
Sethe lives with her daughter Denver, and with the ghost of a baby that died before she'd even given it a name. Sethe posthumously named the baby Beloved, from the one word carved into the baby's headstone.
Paul, a man who was a slave on the same plantation as Sethe a decade ago, shows up one day and begins living with the two--well, three--of them. The ghost of Beloved interferes when Paul and Sethe are getting it on in the kitchen, and this causes Paul to go into a rage that chases the ghost of Beloved away. For a very brief period of time, it looks like everything will be okay.
Then, on the way home from a carnival, the three come across a pretty woman, immaculately dressed, who is sitting by the river. The woman doesn't seem to know where she is, and is starving. So, they take her back home with them. It doesn't take long for Denver to realize the woman is Beloved, the ghost of the baby having somehow found itself a new body. But for Sethe and Paul, this realization is much more gradual.
As the story goes on, we learn more about the past: the plantation Sethe came from, the lives they lived before finding their way to freedom, and the death of Beloved. As the story goes on, we begin to realize that both the past and the present are more disturbing and venomous than they seemed at first. In order to keep this review relatively spoiler-free, I'm not going to say much more about the story.
I will say, though, that "Beloved" follows the horror format that I discussed earlier. The horror that underlies the whole story is a combination: first, the supernatural element of Beloved's ghost. But, more frightening than the ghost itself is the growing sense that Beloved is simply the past haunting the characters and driving them crazy, while also driving them away from each other. The third part of the combination is the horror that was catalyst to both these other horrors: slavery. Slavery is the underlying horror, the first domino, the reason for impending madness and for angry ghosts.
"She cut my head off every night. Buglar and Howard told me she would and she did. Her pretty eyes looking at me like I was a stranger. Not mean or anything, but like I was somebody she found and felt sorry for. Like she didn't want to do it but she had to and it wasn't going to hurt. That it was just a thing grown-up people do--like pull a splinter out your hand; touch the corner of a towel in your eye if you get a cinder in it. She looks over at Buglar and Howard--see if they all right. Then she comes over to my side. I know she'll be good at it, careful. That when she cuts it off it'll be done right; it won't hurt. After she does it I lie there for a minute with just my head. Then she carries it downstairs to braid my hair. I try not to cry but it hurts so much to comb it. When she finishes the combing and starts the braiding, I get sleepy. I want to go to sleep but I know if I do I won't wake up."
Sometimes within paragraphs, the time shifts. We go back to Sweet Home, the plantation where Paul and Sethe met; we shift to Sethe's escape from slavery. These shifts help to create the sense that the past can't be separated from what is now occurring. The past is almost a prison, claustrophobically surrounding the present and giving the sense that Sethe is almost forced into her actions by the horrors of her personal past, and the horrors of slavery.
I feel like, instead of reviewing the book as I usually do, I've been brainstorming for a report. That wasn't my intention, so I'll actually say some evaluative stuff now. This book is every bit as good as it's supposed to be. The writing is poetic and haunting, the characters all fully fleshed out, and plenty of the imagery is unforgettable.
This is considered by some people with even more sway in the literary world than myself to be one of the great books of the 20th century. From the limited pool of books I've read, I'd have to agree with this assessment. This is one you should read.
Which leads me to my final digression: why do so many of the covers for this book make it look like chick lit? On Goodreads, I picked a cover that works with the subject matter, but the actual copy I own makes me think of doilies and fancy china, not ghosts, anger and madness. (less)
Ocean's Eleven was great and everything, but know what would've made it cooler? If the setting had been during the late middle ages, possibly the Rena...moreOcean's Eleven was great and everything, but know what would've made it cooler? If the setting had been during the late middle ages, possibly the Renaissance. Better yet, a fantasy world version of the Renaissance with an intricate system of magic and a complex set of political conspiracies to add some flair. And what if the city was built upon the ruins of an earlier city, and the earlier city was built by some enigmatic science fiction creatures that have since disappeared?
And if instead of a handsome, tepid and understated George Clooney in the lead, we had a short guy who can't swordfight a whit, and has a bit of an anger management issue? And he drops unexpected one-liners that make you literally laugh out loud while you're in the breakroom at work and suddenly everyone is looking at you like you're psycho? What if the character went to the Mel Gibson school of Masochism, requiring he gets beat to a bloody pulp and stabbed and drowned in horse urine...oh, I don't know....several times per story arc? How about this character (we'll call him Locke) is absolutely fallible and occasionally screws up on a cosmic level? The kind of screw-up that would get someone less clever killed in mere seconds? And what if, improbably, this protagonist somehow escapes and still--in a manner of speaking--wins?
That sounds like fun. But, it COULD end up a little predictable. So, the author should be a recent graduate of the George R R Martin School of Bumping Off Prominent Characters (Yes, these schools do exist). And the con game Locke is building should hit tons of snags that continue raising the stakes and drawing in new, more dangerous characters, increasing the risk until you just can't stop reading even to put out house fires for the last couple hundred pages. And then, when somehow the Gentlemen Bastards emerge on the other side, coated in their own blood and the blood of others, triumphant, you put the book down and say "Wow."
Furthermore! How about, even though the book is the first book in a ridiculously long series, this hypothetical book is a complete story! (For those of you who read a lot of Very Long Fantasy Serieses, this may be a foreign concept. It may help to wiki the words "climax" and "resolution.") When you finish this one, you aren't forced to keep reading in order to find out how the conflict is resolved. You actually know. That sounds pretty cool.
Well, it is cool. It is witty, profane, violent, over the top, and frequently hilarious. I can't believe this is Scott Lynch's first novel, and I can't wait to read more. This is an incredibly fun adventure novel. Find yourself a copy and read it. (less)
I can't say enough about this book. It is still my favorite book on Greek or Roman mythology, even though I first read it in third grade. If you love...moreI can't say enough about this book. It is still my favorite book on Greek or Roman mythology, even though I first read it in third grade. If you love mythology, find a copy of this book.(less)