Garret’s Comments (group member since Jan 21, 2015)

Garret’s comments from the Return of the Rogue Readers group.

Mike Mignola (creator of Hellboy) cites William Hope Hopson as one of his influences...read it.

Sounds good to me.

I'm as amazing as I always thought I could be.

¿ch@113ng3 @cc3p+3d?

Is that how this thing works? Did I win yet?

That's pretty awesome, actually, Jordan. Reading the novel was good fun for me, as it was almost like reading the teleplay for a television series for some reason, but I also have a love for old radio shows (such as The Shadow and, of course, Superman...anyone who wants copies of these can let me know) so I think I would personally get a kick out of listening to those plays. I must ask: How do these plays handle the action of the story without falling into the "talking heads" trap? Was it narrated, or did the characters explicitly describe what they were doing?

I was very excited to read this novel when Tye first suggested it. I've read the first book of The Hitchhikers Guide and have always wanted to finish that series, so I thought this would be a great read as well...I was not too disappointed. I agree with Sarah, that this was a 3.5 star read, but I also round up simply because someone took the time and effort to accomplish something they believed in doing. I actually liked all the characters, as they all fit well with the story, but I will finish the series because their stories are as yet unfinished. My biggest complaint was the ending, as it felt muddled and rushed. However, I'm being understanding that this is book one of three, so I'm giving it my faith and saying I enjoyed the ride and will definitely go back for more.

Late to the party on answering your query, Jordan, but here I am. My least favorite character would have to be Merricat, our chilled narrator. I think I discussed enough all my reasons why in my previous post, so I did want to continue with the vein as this as a haunted house origin story:

I love that idea so much I could leap for joy. Bringing up Lady Loftess is a great example of how this would fit in, as she was a local nurse who was just eccentric and a bit crazy, so the legend was built on that and became even wilder as the years went on (I think my mom and grandmother would have gotten in that car accident with her around the 70s, so time flies when witches and ghosts need be born). To this, though: there was something off about her that those who knew her saw, and it was this seed that helped plant that legend. Taking this in the view of the Blackwoods, it fits perfectly. The town looked at them as strange and had an almost superstitious outlook at them for the most part, so I can think of no better way for the reader's epilogue to end than with the house being abandoned years later and everyone KNOWING it is filled with ghosts and witches and everything spooky. What a neat idea.

Personally, I could not wait for this book to end. For me, it was the narration from Merricat's point of view that did me in. It was mentioned early on that she was in her teenage years, yet it seemed that her views were entirely infantile and very often forced throughout (if I heard her say she was "chilled" by one more thing, I may have poisoned my Kindle in defiance). The choice of character type by Jackson is one that I do not mind (the aloof, crazed, and superstitious young girl) generally speaking, but I felt that I was given the same basic descriptive information over and over throughout the novel: she was upset; she nailed something somewhere; she was still upset; she wanted to go to the moon; yep...still upset; she still wants to go to the moon; hey, there's a cat; something has incredibly upset her; someone said something that "chilled" her, and yes, it made her upset.

The one saving grace for me was the character of Uncle Julian, and this was mostly because I hope that an older me has access to time travel and will record me at an age where I can say those types of comments and act as eccentric as possible, come back in time to my present and show me this video so I can laugh and cry...

...

...

...

...seems to not be this present time, so on with my discourse.

Page 43 of my Kindle edition has a delightful quotation I saved:

"Julian," Helen Clarke said quickly; Mrs. Wright seemed mesmerized. "There is such a thing as good taste, Julian."

"Taste, madam? Have you ever tasted arsenic?"

Another great line from page 90:

"I really think I shall commence chapter forty-four," [Julian] said, patting his hands together. "I shall commence, I think, with a slight exaggeration and go on from there into an outright lie. Constance, my dear?"

"Yes, Uncle Julian?"

"I am going to say that my wife was beautiful."

To this degree, the novel did evoke an emotional response out of me other than disgust. When Uncle Julian died, I was upset, and this proved to me that Jackson did not have an imperfect story, but perhaps I was the imperfect reader for this story and that perhaps I missed the point somewhere along the line.

All in all, I'm not sure that I would ever read this novel again, but I did give it two stars rather than one simply because it did have shining moments, a believable backdrop, and a wheelchair-bound character that I would hang out with on my days off.

Jordan, I kind of thought that in a way the High Lama was saying just that: when the storm comes, Shangri-La would be untouched. As far as would I stay or would I go now...I have thought before that I could potentially become a monk and live my life in that style. I'm not sure about the reality of that versus fanciful thoughts on a Tuesday commute, but if faced with a similar event as the crew of Lost Horizon, I think I would stay though I'm not sure how long I could enjoy that type of life. Yes, it would be amazing to learn and read and write, but I wonder if there would come a time when the limited application of those ideas would start to become a burden and I would knowingly make that journey outside of the valley as a sort of suicide march because I had lost either meaning or wonder within that limited life. I've always wanted to share with the world the talents I have, and I think that by being essentially shackled and cut off from the rest of the world that my own mind, and perhaps my ego, would be the downfall of my enjoyment there.

You asked, too, what could change there to make it a place in which to stay. Tye's notion of the Internet is a good one, but I wonder if that would go against some of the values placed in Shangri-La. The only reason I say this is because the place is hidden and a sort of refuge from the rest of the world, and I think this could lead to a downfall of its sanctuary. It was evident that not everyone was happy to live their lives there, even those having lived there for years upon years, and I think it would make an interesting sequel set in modern times. Though, I wonder if this version would turn into an action thriller destroyed by the likes of Michael Bay.

You got dark there, my friend, but I think Hilton may have wondered about that response even in 1933 when it was published. The world was changing around him at a rapid pace, and perhaps that was why he felt the need to write such a story...the wonder was starting to change, to become different, and the world was darkening along with those changes.
This was my second time reading this novel, and I liked it more the first time than I did this time around, though I still found it quite enjoyable. I like how you put "the charm of a world long gone," because that hits it right on the head. I felt Hilton wrote with such subtlety about the life and times, with now-modern readers getting snippets and tastes of the differences of the times, which to me was always refreshing.
As for the story itself, one of my favorite parts was the ending, where the author through his characters ask the same question many readers were probably burdened with from the beginning: did Conway make it back to Shangri-La? I think I find myself groaning at such endings, but this fit the mood and tone of the novel so well that I smiled after reading that last sentence. To me, it was following the tone of the unknown, keeping with the mystery of life and Shangri-La, without being obnoxious with the author not telling the event in full detail. That was the beauty of Shangri-La, and I felt that it was captured perfectly with those thoughts of the unknown. On the flipside, though, my mind instantly wanted to fantasize about what a sequel would be like. Would other travelers in years forward stumble upon it with Conway as the High Lama? Would it be set hundreds of years later with Conway fulfilling the prophecy set by his predecessor as he found his own heir? Would the sequel confirm the "storm" predicted, in a harsh world with a near-apocalyptic setting and Shangri-La flourishing or drowning in its mystery? What do you think?

Sounds good to me.

To switch up our trends thus far, I would like to offer up a classic (and is in fact the first paperback book ever published), Lost Horizon by James Hilton. Published in 1933, it is a classic adventure story from another time and quite short (I know you dig brevity).

Real quick: the hype had and still has enough hype that Lionsgate bought the film rights and it is indeed in the works.

As for what I would change...I would get rid of a lot of unnecessary "rambling" within the latter chapters. I'm not sure if Howey chose not to come up with more action sequences and so decided to prolong (...and prolong...and prolong...) those little that did occur, or didn't want that to be the focus, but I felt like too many chapters were multiple 3-5 page rehashings of those before them. I'm not sure of Howey's ultimate intent when writing this (was it a drama? was it a romance? did he lose his original intentions as the characters became more heavily fleshed out?), but I would have changed the focus from the romances to the structure of the silos, and more specifically The Order. There was a lot that could have been done with those unnamed and faceless characters that had mere cameos, and those were the characters that piqued my interest the most. I wanted to know who else was on the radio when they were scrolling through stations. I wanted to learn all that was written in the packets that are given to the new leaders of The Order. Those would have been my own "selling points," and my focuses when writing. However, this would have not only changed the tone of the novel, but the scope as well. In "Garret L. Davis's Wool" romance would have been the subplot, instead of the inverse which was true of this novel. I think I just feel that Howey created a universe well-worth visiting and getting lost in, but that those things that perhaps our demographic wanted more of was not what he wanted involved with at all.

How about you guys? What changes would you implement to change the novel or rewrite a different one altogether like I seem to be implying?

It absolutely was a romance thinly veiled as a post-apocalyptic novel. Having just finished it, it had redeeming qualities but not enough to where I think I'll revisit this universe. It was a drama, which is fine, but I was expecting something very different. That isn't the author's fault, he wrote what he wanted, but just not my styke of interest. There is a film adaptation on the horizon, and I probably would check that out, but probably only for free if it is a faithful adaptation, as I don't feel this was worthy of any other attention beyond itself. Overall, this was a decent drama, but not the novel I was looking for, especially with the hype it has garnered.

As a forewarning, I'm finishing this book by today or tomorrow and only have about 60 pages left. However, I feel for the sake of the current comments, I have some things I would like to add.

I agree with both of you for this novel. To me, I feel like the first four parts, or stories, were written by a different author than this finale of the fifth section, almost as if it was an anthology collection written by different authors within the same universe. The first four were concise, more to the point, and dragged way less. This fifth section will have three chapters scattered about that tell the action of three paragraphs, and they just keep going and going. The best example I can give is when Juliette is going to pump the water from the bottom of the silo and it left the world of being suspenseful and entered the world of being painfully boring.

I also noticed that the beginning and middle of the book held my interest and had a few lines that I actually took the time to highlight, as I thought they were shining moments of brilliance within the story/writing. One was on page 133 of my Kindle edition:
"Imagination, she figured, just wasn't up to the task of understanding unique and foreign sensations. It knew only how to dampen or augment what it already knew. It would be like telling someone what sex felt like, or an orgasm. Impossible. But once you felt it yourself, you could then imagine varying degrees of this new sensation.
"It was the same as color. You could describe a new color only in terms of hues previously seen. You could mix the known, but you couldn't create the strange out of nothing" (Howey, 2012, p. 133).

To me, this summed up existence in the silos. It was mentioned by Bernard that they had been there for at least a couple hundred years, so the inhabitants, even those of the Order in "the know," were limited by their lives there. Solo, or Jimmy, is the only one who seemed to understand a greater existence beyond the silo and how much they were missing even through idiomatic sayings (like being bull-headed, which was a great dialogue exchange).

My problem becomes that it seemed like the further the story went, the more Howey fell in love with how he was writing the story and his words rather than simply telling the story itself. He wrote the first story as a standalone, then when it became successful, wrote the rest months later at about one every one or two months, and I wonder if it got too big in his head that he felt he needed to prove something and forgot that what he started with was fantastic and needed no improving.

My final thought: this novel reminded me about what one critic said about Silent Hill: Homecoming. To paraphrase and put this in context with this novel: the most frustrating thing about this novel to me was not what it lacked, but that it had shining moments of brilliance that you could see glinting here and there, but was always overshadowed by the other murkiness that surrounded it all. Those shining moments were great when they were great, but it seems as though the wordiness and lack of a moving plot (I often wondered if I could push it along quicker by skipping chapters which is never a good thing to say about something you're reading), as well as an author who seemed to forget his general purpose: telling a story instead of describing a story.

And you talk Tye into taking legal action against my plagiarism.

My own thoughts along these lines: though in hindsight it would appear to support that theory and I was on board with it, but Rowlings probably didn't think that far ahead from book one. You mention his friends being around him and they were moreso than the Dursleys with the events of the series. In reality it's probably more of a coincidence that is fun to think of, but was never truly written with that in mind. As much as I would love for it line up that way, you're probably closer to the truth than the speculation.

I can see that comparison. I liked the idea of them as entities as they were in this universe, mixing in common myth and legend into that reality.

You mentioned the inconsistencies and it reminded me that Dave actually mentions his story containing such elements. Some of them were explained nearing the end but I wonder if he was sort of lazy in his writing and didn't want to deal with fixing errors after writing the novel. Kind of a half-assed work ethic that makes me upset if true.

I agree with almost everything you say. For me, the first appearance of the "wig monsters" almost made me quit reading completely the first time I read it. Overall, though, the humor does seem more detracting at the beginning as opposed to perhaps getting used to the style in order to appreciate it later on. I'm a huge fan of Lovecraft and found that general type of horror-creatures and stretched theme greatly enjoyable. I'm not sure if I could ever hang out with Dave and John, but I definitely enjoyed being on the journey with them and will anticipate reading the sequel sooner than later.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-

Slam!

The alarm clock was cut off at 5:00 a.m. by John's hand. "Comes earlier and earlier," he muttered to himself, looking around the shack. Calling it a shack was an injustice to you or me, but to Mr. Riley it was shabbiness to the extreme. Only five rooms (not including the parlor, living room, den, three bathrooms, and his lab), which was never enough for man destined for more.

He looked around, feeling the two small wooden tiles he always kept in hand, still lying in bed, and thought back to the roots of where he came from...

In 1989 he was a much younger man, living on the streets of Toronto. Orphaned at birth and left in the parking lot of the police station, he had it rough. Most would assume a police officer would notice the child and take him in, but it was not the case for lil' Johnny. Even as an infant he had the drive to rise up and stake his claim, look Life in the face, and scream, "I'm gonna get more out of you!" before throwing Life down the stairs where it could whimper and lick its wounds.

He grew up fast (kind of like reverse dog years), and moved even faster. People saw him around town, zipping and zooping, zapping and other words that made no sense and start with a "z." He had a nickname in those days . . . but he had no formal education - his life was too fast to slow down for 8 hours a day plus homework - and never knew how to correctly spell it, so thought it was Spedey Fastlaine.

No matter!

Self-taught, but aging fast, he applied his own life to making a business. Somewhere people could do quick, one-stop shopping when they were on the road or just about town. A place where you could fuel all necessities from a vehicle (be it a sedan, a Mac, or a race car) to the body itself.

With the lack of education he knew no better on how to spell, but he knew what he was doing in practice. Kwik King it was and Kwik King it would be for many years.

Now:
John looked at the tiles, the two tiles that always lost him the game because Fate (perhaps in partnership with the usually injured Life) always demanded he get them every time. It was a new dawn, though. Kwik King was now Ruff Crik and Life had a way of opening doors, and promptly falling down them for one reason or another. It was time to start anew.

We leave our story with the tiles falling to the ground and a man beginning again. Those Scrabble tiles on the floor are, of course, the letters "q" and "u."

Finis