An interesting look at some philosophical themes -- essence, reality, negation, alterity, myth -- with horror and occult themes used as a framework. TAn interesting look at some philosophical themes -- essence, reality, negation, alterity, myth -- with horror and occult themes used as a framework. The work deserves a star, simply for its ambition, given its experimental structures and unconventional ways of organizing its ideas. There are compelling conceptual turns and clever treatments, so it's certainly worth a shot, especially for fans of horror and theory, speculative realism, etc.
I would have rated this work higher, but the ideas didn't gel, or build in any intelligible way. When no continuous thread is discernible, it makes the whole work feel like a stream of consciousness of provocations and obscurity. It clearly takes itself seriously, despite its occasional sense of irony, but it doesn't move beyond the standard philosophical motif that governs all horror-oriented theoretical projects: The universe is defined by an absolutely unknowable Other, which engages us in paradoxes of alterity when we try to approach it.
This is a work characterized by eclectic references, horror and occult themes, and conceptual provocations. Your mileage may vary, but if that's what you're into, give it a shot....more
Interesting attempt to build a theoretical framework around photography, sometimes gratifying, but not always successful. The central idea of an "appaInteresting attempt to build a theoretical framework around photography, sometimes gratifying, but not always successful. The central idea of an "apparatus," tied to mechanical devices, social systems, and "programmed" with every possibility already inherent in the device itself... it's one of a number of intriguing conceptual turns taken by Flusser.
I sensed two major weaknesses in Flusser's framework. First, he's often rehashing ideas of other thinkers on these topics... Heidegger's ideas about technology, or McLuhan's writing about artifacts and extensions of the senses... and his versions of these ideas are less coherent and less developed than these previous theorists. Flusser would have benefited from more thoughtful citation, and more focus.
Second, too many of Flusser's conjectures, in attempting to be clever or provocative, simply miss the mark. His claim that photographic devices (i.e. cameras) are a sort of consciousness, working toward its own technological evolution -- this is one of a number of half-baked speculations that needs to be sharpened significantly. At times, Flusser's axioms aren't clever or useful enough to justify their leaps of logic.
That said, this is a decent starting point for thinking about photography in a postmodern, highly conceptual way....more
This is my first experience with Eagleton, so maybe I'm just not accustomed to his style, but if all of his work is like "On Evil," I don't think I'llThis is my first experience with Eagleton, so maybe I'm just not accustomed to his style, but if all of his work is like "On Evil," I don't think I'll be getting back to his work any time soon. He tries to take on a broad, difficult topic, a philosophical obstruction that has been an obsession of philosophy and literature since people started making words, but nothing profound or illuminating emerges from the exercise. The only thing deep about On Evil is the topic itself, and Eagleton only manages to skim its surface.
The lack of structure in the book is its first weakness, and perhaps this is the bottleneck that kept anything else from really flowering in this conceptual garden. Eagleton organizes a 150-page intellectual treatise into three chapters, and within these chapters, there is no signposting, no logical trail to follow, no central theme to link the various diversions. Halfway through each section, I was struck by the feeling that this book is, in fact, ONLY diversions, without any real claim to make.
Eagleton's ideologies -- Western literature, continental theory, and a preoccupation with Catholic doctrine and classical Marxism -- are clearly on display here. One of his central tenets is that evil, by definition, isn't the product of circumstance, nor motivated by objectives outside itself... to truly be evil, it has to hate purely for the sake of hate. This gives him some material to wrestle with -- whether evil is derived from good, whether the universe is actually manichean, whether evil can be neutralized by sublimating it or rationalizing it away -- but the central principle is a premise, not an argument, and all the resulting discussion is just a reflection on the obvious consequences of that premise.
At the very least, the book gave me some ideas for more books to read, and it massages some of my long-neglected cognitive constructions: Freudianism, moral theory, political economy. But I'll never cite it, never refer to any argument or perspective it contained, never bring it up to add something to a conversation... its problem is that it just talked at me for three weeks, waxing poetic about well-worn ideas, but stubbornly refusing to give me anything new....more
I've had a lot of trouble reviewing this book, because I don't entirely trust my assessment. It's a very thorough and rigorous book, on a subject thatI've had a lot of trouble reviewing this book, because I don't entirely trust my assessment. It's a very thorough and rigorous book, on a subject that I think needs more extensive treatments, from a scholar with serious credibility in the field. I went so far as to look up other reactions, and they tended to be positive (always written by other academics, or grad students who were assigned the book, obviously). So please take all that under advisement when you read my criticism.
Graphesis starts with some bold topic sentences and mission statements. Graphesis (a field of study Drucker is positing?) is the "study of the visual production of knowledge" (cool!) and this book "offers a brief guide to critical languages of graphical knowledge from diverse fields, and describes ways graphical formats embody semantic value in their organization and structures." This all sounds ambitious and useful for students and theorists of this stuff, and I applaud the attempt.
However, even in those passages, you may start to get a sense of the problems that arise in this endeavor. The project is very loose, without a strong thesis or objective in mind. Because of this, it seems to devolve, at times, into a general survey of visual communication, focusing on information graphics, schematics, and user interfaces. For significant sections, it just describes the basic features of graphical forms and templates... like, that tables leverage both vertical and horizontal dimensions to organize information.
And because it's loose, Graphesis also becomes meandering, devoid of strong organization, topic sentences, meaningful chapters, or memorable through-lines. Even accompanied by active, aggressive note-taking, the result is a sort of stream-of-consciousness flow of vaguely-connected observations.
Finally, following from the previous point: the language of Graphesis seems willfully inaccessible. Again, I don't need an easy conversational tone, but if the language is going to be formal and technical, it needs to be rigorous. Drucker's use of modifiers and qualifiers becomes numbing... "formal," "subjective," critical and interpretative and semantic and schematic and graphical... these terms become fluid and meaningless, when they should be well-defined and pinpoint precise, assuming Drucker is really trying to build an effective field of study.
To Drucker's credit, this study is wide-ranging, covering tons of examples, with lots of historical context and ways of framing these topics. Unfortunately, it sabotages itself with obscurity. I love philosophy when it's poetic and insightful, and I don't mind it when it's technical and intensive. However, Graphesis doesn't quite fit into either of those spaces, and the result is disorganized and illegible -- for a work on visual principles of communication, it's frustratingly foggy....more
R. A. MacAvoy's intimate fantasy novel, the first in a trilogy published as "A Trio for Lute," is an unexpected little jaunt. It defies fantasy convenR. A. MacAvoy's intimate fantasy novel, the first in a trilogy published as "A Trio for Lute," is an unexpected little jaunt. It defies fantasy conventions in such a cavalier way, with such natural comfort, that it almost warrants a genre of its own. This leads to some crossed thematic wires, some motifs that don't quite fit together, but these are inevitable side-effects of an experimental spirit that elevates Damiano from curiosity into something worth its investment.
The novel is shaped by eponymous main character Damiano's quest to save his hometown, and his personality is the centerpiece, in terms of tone and point of view. Damiano is well-written, as navel-gazing and insecure as a newly-minted adult must be, and the novel's dramatic turns are all linked to his moral growth and major life decisions. He's also girded by a cast of fascinating side-characters: an archangel who acts as his guide and protector, a star-crossed love and her jealous brother, a pair of street children, and a dangerous and alluring rival witch. And of course, there's Macchiata, Damiano's canine companion, whose presence brings Damiano's emotional richness into relief.
Damiano's story itself is surprisingly limited... he's on a quest to save his city from a malicious general, and most of the novel's meat consists of him running from one potential ally to another. This narrowness of scope -- one city, one militia, one big-bad -- belies the vastness of the world, which is modeled after historic Italy, but with Christian apparitions and mythology made manifest. It can be disorienting, reading a story where the big-bad is a petty military commander, but whose side characters are the angels Raphael and Satan. This bipolar nature of the world is one of the novel's charms.
I mentioned some dissonances. Certain scenes (like one in a ravaged hamlet) seem forced, and it would have been nice to see some clearer connections between the Christian elements and the fantasy mysticism that the novel is built on. Still, these details are just kinks in a fascinating larger picture, and I hope they'll get ironed out in the next couple volumes. On the whole, in a genre that often feels indulgent and overstuffed, Damiano is an intimate dinner with a few old friends, and I'm ready to continue the trilogy to see where it leads. ...more
A mad pseudo-theoretical romp, a scaffolding of cryptic phrases and invented jargon, elaborately-constructed around a few genuinely interesting ideas.A mad pseudo-theoretical romp, a scaffolding of cryptic phrases and invented jargon, elaborately-constructed around a few genuinely interesting ideas.
There isn't much of a story here, though some of the summaries belie that fact. There's a very loose framing narrative, which gives a little historical/documentarian flavor to the prickly, abstract bulk of the book. However, it's more of a game being played with certain ideas: oil as a fundamental agent determining history, military and ideological and religious politics framed as a symptom of primal chthonian and cosmic forces. If you're into philosophy and theory, you are probably already conscious of this kind of high-concept playfulness, one of the preferred pastimes in certain niches of the humanities.
If you want to give Cyclonopedia a serious shot, it helps to have a bit of relevant background: philosophy, religion, anthropology, mysticism. The more you know about Islam, and some of the ancient precursors to Christianity, the easier it will be to discern the substance at the heart of the prose. And this is a key aspect of the book: the way the reader deals, or is uninterested in dealing, with the author's voice.
On that account: In order to appreciate the esoteric, willfully opaque nature of this work, you have to be able to read its language as a sort of poetry. There are times when I can do this, and really dig it, which is where those first three stars come from. Other times, the struggle with the language puts me to sleep, which is why those last two stars are empty....more
Before I get into the nuances, I should give the bird's-eye view: this is a good collection, and a valuable introduction to contemporary mainstream poBefore I get into the nuances, I should give the bird's-eye view: this is a good collection, and a valuable introduction to contemporary mainstream poetry. It puts a wide array of techniques on display, and it gives a clear sense of how far "experimentation" has taken the state of the art. The biographical secondary material, bolstered by a keen interpretive eye, helps frame this collection and provides an intelligible angle for thinking about through the material. That's my high-level overview, and like any view from a distance, it tends to obscure the cracks that closer inspection brings out.
The first issue is that the book's thesis statement is all mixed up. Hinton seems to be tracking a couple of motifs -- the influence of Chinese poetry, the development of the ecopoetic tradition -- but instead of making a real study of these themes, he dilutes them into a broad argument about the state of avant garde poetry and the nature of language itself. Thoreau, the moment of "contact," imagistic versus collage... he touches on so many topics, it starts to seem undercooked.
Unfortunately, this is further exacerbated by the concluding section, where Hinton takes a clumsy stab at unifying all these motifs into a big thesis statement. His argument is something about language being mimetic in nature since the advent of writing, and about pictographic writing and avant-garde poetry subverting this tendency. It's not supported by any reading or citation, and it doesn't have the rigor to feel philosophical. There has been a LOT of analysis and debate about the nature of language, and Hinton seems blithely unaware that he's engaging with these longstanding discussions. A more modest, more reflective, and perhaps more personal tone is called for, I think.
The other problem is bigger in nature. As he struggles to make these explicit arguments about the nature of language and contemporary poetry, Hinton is making another argument implicitly: the argument that these poets, his chosen innovators, represent the true backbone of contemporary poetry, some kind of canon that we should privilege over other writers and traditions. I honestly don't like imputing that kind of claim to an author when it's not made explicitly... but how else are we to read statements like "These poetic strategies and the philosophical ideas embedded in them represent the fabric from which the entire range of modern poetry is made" (p 311, after summarizing the primary intellectual threads in the book).
And this is hard to defend. Without a doubt, a picture emerges of poetry being built on a white academic male backbone. It erases all the poetic traditions that make this such a rich medium... for Hinton, Langston Hughes isn't part of the "fabric," nor Maya Angelou, nor any of the confessional or language poets, nor the spoken word tradition. This is a book written in 2017.
So for a survey of poetic technique and innovation in the avant garde, by all means, make this book part of your education. But remember the importance of a wide-ranging appetite and a critical eye... and keep this one clearly in context....more
A lot of fun stories, but they have the pace and subtlety of pulp. The two Lovecraft stories, on the other hand, are masterful, and the stark contrastA lot of fun stories, but they have the pace and subtlety of pulp. The two Lovecraft stories, on the other hand, are masterful, and the stark contrast between HP and his imitators shows why Lovecraft, in his sweeping imagination and incredible technical skill, has become the cultural touchstone that he is.
If you're interested in Lovecraft's influence beyond simple engrossing entertainment value, you may find this collection more interesting. It's a worthy case study for understanding how Lovecraft fits into his own world in the imaginations of his fans and imitators: in these stories, he is represented as an ill-understood horror author (a fair imitation of his real-world persona), but then he's elevated into a sort of scholar mystic prophet, whose horror stories become a sort of clandestine bible of the cosmic apocalypse and humanity's ill-fated destiny.
From serious to twisted to amusing, they're stories worth reading, but it's Lovecraft's singular talent that really holds the circle together....more
The Waste Lands feels like several stories locked together, rather than a cohesive triptych, like The Drawing of the Three. The eventual outcome of thThe Waste Lands feels like several stories locked together, rather than a cohesive triptych, like The Drawing of the Three. The eventual outcome of the book doesn't have a lot to do with the earlier events... in this sense, it's structured more like a passage through a chain of incidental adventures. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, of course. It's just symptomatic of The Waste Lands being locked into the middle of a long series.
A new character is added to the ka-tet, the principal party of adventuring heroes, and by the end, this new character has dominated The Waste Lands in terms of focus and personality. However, the supporting cast -- Eddie and Susannah and Roland -- still make for a compelling company, and their presence grounds the novel. In a sense, these characters are the world of The Dark Tower... the surreal, gritty, post-future Mid-World is just set dressing, though it's still striking and evocative.
The Waste Lands makes it clear that in spite of King's ambition and imagination, he's not primarily a world-builder. His vision of the real world is more potent than his invented world-left-behind. What he is excellent at... here, as elsewhere... is weaving a mysterious, enigmatic, and beautiful matrix of myths and symbols, giving us just enough of a glimpse to captivate us. Numbers, concepts, place names, habits of thought and action... these are so beautifully linked together, so perfectly drawn, it's baffling sometimes. It's the kind of book that makes you hungry for a wiki-hole.
King is also excellent at driving the reader... his prose is sharp and practical, and it's hard to stop reading, even in the story's calmest moments. There is a genuine sense of danger, and a constant lurching of suspense as the reader's awareness is kept just a few paces ahead of the character, encountering the surprises and understanding the perils at the right rhythm and moment. In this sense, King is a master, and will always be one of the greats.
It's a great book, and I'm 100% enjoying the series. The only reason I gave four stars instead of five is that this feels very much like a book on the move, a transitional piece of storytelling that's mostly serving stories we have yet to read. Still, it's great, and I'm ready for the next one....more
A taut, unsettling, fast-moving adventure story that leverages the mythic and the surreal in equal measure. Its foremost achievements are its relentleA taut, unsettling, fast-moving adventure story that leverages the mythic and the surreal in equal measure. Its foremost achievements are its relentlessly focused tone, its cautious and ambivalent treatment of its main characters, and its rendering of a world that's both hallucinatory and dreamlike, and also vibrant and imminent.
The Gunslinger is a much more intimate portrait of King's obsessions than his works of more concrete horror. In his books I've read -- Pet Sematary, Rose Madder, and several short stories -- he renders a vivid portrait of traditional American life, and this constraint both challenges him and empowers him. Free of obligations to realism, he's at liberty to experiment with style, language, tone, and contrast, and this reveals the particular wildness of his imagination.
The essence of surrealism, I think, is the ability to deliver precision assaults on the audience's sensibilities. Stephen King does this as well as any of the movement's icons... riding on the rails of his prose, the reader, at key moments, is yanked into disturbing and uncanny territory. In Gunslinger, these kinds of moments are pivotal to the story: the scenes at Tull, the encounter with the Oracle, Jake's account. In a text that's dense with abstractions and ambiguities, it's these sequences that provide the narrative's crucial emotional punch.
As long as I'm noting the strengths of King's vision, I should also note its limitations. This is a relentlessly masculine narrative... all traces of the feminine are sexualized, degraded, or obscured. For a story that tries to be cosmic and omniscient, it's also a particularly Euro-American take on the universe: the Old West meets courtly romance, with nods to New York City, all the obsessions of suburban Americana. It's in the tradition of Tolkien and Cormac McCarthy, but while it's more subtle than those visions, there's something provincial about it, and therefore immature... a sensibility that I hope widens in the later books in the series.
That quibble aside, it's a fast-moving, mind-twisting, wildly engrossing adventure story, a trip through a broad, fiery imagination. Roland is a worth bearer of the torch of the romantic exile, our culture's ongoing preoccupation, and I'm excited to see where his particular manifestation of the hero's journey takes him....more
I wish there was a three-and-a-half, because I found this book to be enjoyable, which puts it just above average... certainly worth the time and mentaI wish there was a three-and-a-half, because I found this book to be enjoyable, which puts it just above average... certainly worth the time and mental energy. The centerpiece is certainly the title story, which is much more detailed and developed than its sister-stories. These truffles were a nice post-horror snack, but I would have been fine without them.
The title story is twisted, monstrous, and depraved in all the unhealthy, indulgent ways you might expect from a good postmodern cosmic horror author writing about corporate life. The anxiety and hopelessness of corporate culture is sufficiently relatable, and the main character's rage can be infectious, so that his terrible acts become cathartic at the same time that they're repellent. It makes for a good, nerve-rubbing, self-sickening experience.
Since I only gave it three stars, I should spend some time on the weaknesses. I say the corporate culture is relatable, but it still lacks some definition and dimension. It's all framed as abstract office-politics corporatism, which, as any office drone knows, doesn't really capture the inane, mind-numbing hyper-specialization of office work. Because of this, it comes across as a caricature of an office environment, instantly recognizable but sometimes superficial. Also, the climax is a bit soft... the most gut-wrenching scene is not the decisive, climactic scene in the narrative, so the pay-off at the end of the story seems a little too mild.
But really, it's the whole journey that matters: an effective, sufficiently horrifying big picture of the petty little world of the cubicle and the boardroom....more
A strange curiosity, a tortured plot told in tortured antiquarian prose, whose interconnected threads seem to be willfully indecipherable. There are tA strange curiosity, a tortured plot told in tortured antiquarian prose, whose interconnected threads seem to be willfully indecipherable. There are times when the language seems to shift, from something fairly straightforward, into an antique style that's mildly mind-numbing. The characters aren't entirely compelling, especially the bland protagonists, the "Lieutenants" (whose actual names are redacted). This lack of defined characters improves marginally at the end of the book, as three characters -- John the servant, Volkert, and Wolf -- suddenly come into focus, and provide a little more flesh to a generally obscure and obtuse narrative.
What makes the novel interesting, and perhaps worth reading if you have the patience for it, is the convoluted shape of the plot and its telling. The plot centers around a series of incursions into a haunted castle, whose reputation and ominous character overshadows the local villages. This has overtones of both mysticism and classic banditry, and most of the plot's complications are the connective tissue between these incursions.
For such an old novel, The Necromancer ends up being surprisingly non-linear. The involvement of various characters, the intersections of mistakes and motives, and the final slow revelation of the mechanisms behind these events: it's worth reading to see it get tangled up and then unfold again, even if it's sort of awkward and ungainly in its construction. It isn't cohesive or economical, but it's got its thrilling moments, and it's grotesque enough that it's worth some of your time, just to poke at it and see how it responds....more
The best miracles of private libraries happen in old bookstores, and it was in such a bookstore that I found Send Bygraves, tucked into a box of poetrThe best miracles of private libraries happen in old bookstores, and it was in such a bookstore that I found Send Bygraves, tucked into a box of poetry books for $1. I committed for my own reasons -- a renewed interest in poetry, and a temporary fascination with illustrated books for adults -- but once I was fully engaged, I found myself caught up in a truly revelatory reading experience.
Send Bygraves is by Martha Grimes, apparently a mainstay of detective fiction... a name I wasn't familiar with, being a novice in that genre. This book of poetry is a small attractive hardback (at least my copy) with illustrations by Devis Grebu... the illustrations being wonky donkey little montages that have a sort of cubist simultaneity to them.
Send Bygraves is less a story than a poetic sketch of a certain place at a certain time -- a surreal mystery town with murder and paranoia baked right into the brickwork. The town is populated by caricatures and enigmas: the local gossips, the bumbling police, the shadowy figure always at the margins, and the protagonist detective who makes himself known through patterns of absence. Victims are plentiful, everyone is the murdered, and nobody is Bygraves. It's a demented masterpiece of a puzzle-box, and I felt blissfully lost in every section.
I was going to compare this to Edward Gorey, feeling very clever about it, but I see others have already made the association. It is warranted -- like Gorey's work, Bygraves is sprightly and lyrical, illustrated with a childlike morbid charm, and suffused with a sort of understated, grotesque delirium. I would add: Bygraves is what you might get if you kidnapped Edward Gorey and forced him at gunpoint to dig deep, instead of working at the surface. Whereas Gorey had this as a style, Grimes writes it as a philosophy... something she embraces as a challenge to her reader, her genre, and herself.
Enter this book with an appreciation for ambiguity and play. Stay until you're dizzy with the toxic fumes. If you've found Bygraves, you've stumbled upon something very distinctive indeed....more
Wild and vivid and occasionally propulsive, but Vathek ranges too far, over too many plot points, without enough of an emotional core, to ever be realWild and vivid and occasionally propulsive, but Vathek ranges too far, over too many plot points, without enough of an emotional core, to ever be really compelling.
The most interesting sequences were the lush sensory immersions: the description of Giaour turning into a ball, the lists of food at the royal banquets. There was something very contemporary about these descriptions, as compared with the rest of the novel; overall, the tone is highly affected, relentlessly artificial, and because it never feels familiar, it drains the story of its emotional resonance. The villains don't seem tortured or evil; if anything, they seem like greedy, self-indulgent simpletons. Their sinister plans are only set in motion because they didn't have the wisdom to think about any long-term consequences.
The novel's tendencies of characterization are cynical and ambivalent... pretty much everyone is a villain or a pawn, and the only redeemable characters are helpless and short-lived. As such, it might be interpreted as a very broad indictment of decadence. In this polemical function, at least, it deserves some credit... there's never a doubt that the main characters are swept up in their own self-indulgence.
It's a bold experiment in style and tone, and a noble effort, but that doesn't save it from the unavoidable fallout: an emotional bluntness, monotonous plotting, and a sense that something's been lost in the appropriation/translation....more
This is the type of book that you generally wouldn't read unless you're a serious student of the topic... in this case, Gothic fiction, feminist literThis is the type of book that you generally wouldn't read unless you're a serious student of the topic... in this case, Gothic fiction, feminist literature, or some combination of the two. It's also the type of book that I end up reading all the time, because of my quixotic quest to know about EVERYTHING. I find my way into a niche, get lost in it, and find a few critical texts to hang onto.
Art of Darkness was a mixed reading experience, certainly. It's highly focused on its fairly narrow theses -- the relationship of Gothic to Romantic, the gender issues that structure and inform Gothic -- and it wanders far over the Gothic literature landscape in pursuit of these themes, so it ends up feeling a bit weak in its engagement with the meat of the texts. In the case of its "Romantic versus Gothic" thesis, it never seems to find anything to hook into, so the thesis seems weak, and nothing really seems to get proven.
Luckily, its "two genders of Gothic" subject matter is much more productive. Williams draws a clear line between Male Gothic and Female Gothic, and it's interesting to see the way she frames the two structures. This is an idea that I'll always keep in mind when I read Gothic literature, and it's even worth extrapolating to other fiction (she applies it to some Romantic texts, in particular).
Though it can be unfocused and ambivalent at times, Art of Darkness is full of worthy insights and unusual ways of looking at traditional Gothic tropes and structures. It wouldn't have worked as a comprehensive guide, but that's a role that can be filled by Wikipedia and TVTropes at this point in history. Instead, this book gives you a special key to the genre's hidden chambers and obscurities, and that, ultimately, is exactly what I needed out of a book of genre criticism....more
A stark, swashbuckling adventure story with a lot of romance and heart, despite a few missteps. The world itself is thick and obscure and mysterious, A stark, swashbuckling adventure story with a lot of romance and heart, despite a few missteps. The world itself is thick and obscure and mysterious, with cultures sketched perhaps too broadly for a true sense of intimacy, but with lots of vivid settings: the saltweller's, the house in the mountain, the Damall's island, etc. The world made more interesting by the lack of high fantasy baggage (no elves or dwarves or knights of the realm). Voigt does a nice job of joining character and context: these two boys, Oriel and Griff, and Oriel's various mentors and foes and lovers, all seem coherent and plausible, given the world that has shaped them.
The missteps are in nuance and characterization, and in pacing, as well, to a certain degree. The book is broken into very cleanly-differentiated phases... four if you just count the broad regions, and six or seven if you count specific settings. The transitions from one phase to another... the escapes, the sudden turns of fortune, Oriel's migratory decisions... these often felt abrupt, and whole characters and lifestyles seemed to disappear from the boys' lives at a moment's notice. A bit more patience might have been warranted on the author's part.
The other problem was the flatness of the protagonist himself. There is no single, strong antagonist, and the secondary characters are often reduced to love interests and sidekicks. Oriel, who carries the entire narrative on his own back, is an inspiring leader and driving force, but he ultimately lacks nuance. Some ongoing moral struggles might have done him some good. Instead, Voigt seems to treat him as an unqualified hero, and the narrative never opens up the question of his character or the merit of his actions.
Even so, a smart, earthy, and enjoyable fantasy adventure, made even better by the independent spirit of its storytelling: a good eye, fast-moving, and a world that's worth spending some time in....more
A long, erratic adventure, both bold and contemplative, and full of Banks' signature quirks and touches. Vyr Cossont is an endearing heroine, sufficieA long, erratic adventure, both bold and contemplative, and full of Banks' signature quirks and touches. Vyr Cossont is an endearing heroine, sufficiently bored and dutiful and cynical, and she provides a grounded, relatable perspective on the strange Banksian phenomenon of Subliming. The apparent antagonist, Banstegeyn, is a worthy counterpoint to Vyr: cavalier, manipulative, and petty, he seems to exist as a reminder that even elder species are populated with contemptible side-characters. It is Banstegeyn's short-sighted political maneuvering that authorizes the other antagonist, Colonel Angatsu, who appears as a model of zealous militaristic wrath. It's a particular quirk of Banks' scale that these antagonists can cause so much death, and yet seem so petty and powerless in the context of the larger setting.
The novel's thematic subtext is Subliming, which represents a sort of final, fatal, zen-like resignation to eternity on the part of an elder civilization. Banks instigates a number of conflicts and sub-plots that ultimately go nowhere (i.e. the strange case of the Smile Tolerantly, plus some others that I won't spoil), and he introduces a few characters who are genuinely interesting, but who ultimately don't have much significance in the cosmic events that unfold. Even the meta-arc, the search for an ancient secret behind a civilization that's about to Sublime, has a nebulous, almost trivial quality to it: though it becomes very important to a few select Minds and humans, it seems to be hooked into nothing, echoing with an ultimate meaninglessness. This is a potent symbol for the relationship Banks articulates between the Real, with its contingency and futility, and the Sublime, with its eternal cosmic harmony and perfection.
The key question for understanding this vacuous, aestheticized adventure is the question asked by those who have returned from the Sublime: what does any of it matter? The Hydrogen Sonata meditates on this question, threading it with a great deal of short-term significance, but ultimately treating it as an absolute, irresolvable uncertainty. More important, Banks argues that we have to accept this deep groundlessness, and in doing so, perhaps we can appreciate its beauty. Sort of existentialist, in a way.
A wise, strange, and exciting book, and a fitting final work from one of the century's greatest speculative authors... indeed, one of the greatest minds in literature. We'll miss you, Iain....more
This is a single-minded, passionate analysis (and meditation, since it's not structured as a rigorous argument per se) written by a man who's clearly This is a single-minded, passionate analysis (and meditation, since it's not structured as a rigorous argument per se) written by a man who's clearly an enthusiast of the highest order. The overall effect: if the boundaries of genre and the imagination is a topic that fascinates you, you'll get a fair amount of mileage out of this discussion. However, for those who aren't so hung up on this problematic of categorization, this may end up feeling like a long road where the scenery never changes much.
Duncan's writing is friendly and playful, and the arguments in the book are more engaging for it. It falls somewhere between a lecture and a rant -- somewhere between the seminar and the dive bar and the coffee house -- and in the hands of a lesser writer, this might be intolerable, but Duncan always stays close to his point. It may still be abrasive for some readers, if you're looking for neutral or transparent language. For me, it felt frank and authentic.
The argument itself touches upon numerous interesting points. The breakdown of genre into commercial distinctions, idioms, stereotypes, conventions, and competing philosophies and aspirations... this is the book's first serious exploration, and it runs through the rest of the discussion. The association of science fiction with abjection, and the window into the self-negation that this implicates, is another engaging point that might be useful for further study. Those aren't the only two, but they're a good example of Duncan getting his analysis right.
Unfortunately, for such a broad reflection, Duncan's topic itself remains too narrow. I enjoyed it... gave it those three stars... but I couldn't keep myself from thinking: Is this whole book just about the author's insecurities about GENRE? A discussion about coherence of categories, about the elusiveness of authenticity, about the imagination's claim to truth... these are topics that have been handled in more subtle, less obsessive ways.
At times, it feels like Duncan is saying, "We need to escape the straitjackets of genre!" but he himself is stuck cycling through that message, unable to follow his own advice.
It flowed, it kept me thinking closely about its topic, and it had a striking payoff at the end... but it could have been condensed. I'd like to see Duncan writing a wider range of essays, addressing the aesthetic distinctions of his favorite novels, discussing topics in a smaller, tighter, more incisive way. This is a good book, very in-depth and comprehensive, but it doesn't live up to the author's intellectual promise... in its preoccupation with genre, it ends up feeling like admirable but misspent ambition....more
Trickster Makes This World starts great, spinning out some of the implications of various Trickster myths, and linking the Trickster archetype to a whTrickster Makes This World starts great, spinning out some of the implications of various Trickster myths, and linking the Trickster archetype to a whole range of folk stories: Coyote, Hermes, Loki, Prometheus, and eventually, Alan Ginsberg, Frederick Douglass, Krishna, and many others. Hyde draws out the subtleties of Trickster's methods and effects, and it makes for entertaining and thought-provoking reading. Unfortunately, the basic messages of transgression, boundary-crossing, marginalization, and misbehavior eventually become a bit repetitive. The last few chapters are exhausting, escalating the rhetoric and drawing out the analysis until it starts to feel predictable and stale. These last chapters are saved by a couple salient points and an interesting use of real-life examples (these are the chapters on Ginsberg, Douglass, et al) but they're harder to get through than the playful early writing....more
Fantastic, propulsive, and informative book... captures so many things, including (but not limited to):
- the politics and drama that goes into buildinFantastic, propulsive, and informative book... captures so many things, including (but not limited to):
- the politics and drama that goes into building a large-scale event - the broad theme of building a public and private identity and legacy - the hopeful and anxious spirit of the late 1800's - America's high ambition, naivety, and depravity
At the risk of repeating a cliche, it's hard to believe this is rooted in historical research, rather than the crazy imagination of a storyteller. Definitely worth picking up....more
I am giving this four stars because I find the material fascinating, and I find it to be a well-rounded treatment of the stories, their themes, and thI am giving this four stars because I find the material fascinating, and I find it to be a well-rounded treatment of the stories, their themes, and their cultural context. I would give it a 5-star rating if it didn't require the interest of the reader in its subject matter from the outset... if it could sell Pu Songling's strange tales as a fascinating-enough topic that a general non-fiction audience might want to hook into it.
I understand, of course, that this isn't entirely the intention. This is an academic text, a close reading, and not a mass market docu-drama or anything like that. It's well-written and it fully inhabits the text, and it was an excellent accompaniment to the Tales themselves, which I read in parallel in whatever public domain forms I could find them.
What makes Historian of the Strange so strong is its engagement with the Chinese cultural world that gave rise to these stories. The obsession with obsession, the gender fluidity and anxiety, the romance of the supernatural, and the culture of scholarship and endless annotation... these details brought so much texture to my understanding of the stories, I'm not sure how much I would have appreciated them without it.
The things I could have used a little more of: more discussion of the treatment of these stories in the West. I've had trouble finding the best translations and collections, and a few additional sections or appendixes would have been welcome: one covering the translation issues, and another providing a well-informed source review of the most interesting, most essential, and most infamous stories... I realize this was out of the author's scope, but I do think they might have improved the larger package.
Overall, though, I'm glad I got to read this excellent study, and I had a great time immersing myself in this microcosmic literary world. I hope to keep coming back to Songling's work, and when I do, I'll keep going back to Zeitlin's study, as well....more
A grounded, reasonable approach to a complex and dramatic philosophical theme. Midgley's argument ranges over several topics in the general theme of "A grounded, reasonable approach to a complex and dramatic philosophical theme. Midgley's argument ranges over several topics in the general theme of "what is evil, and how does it come about in a world of reason and self-consistency?"
Midgley never downplays the difficulty of the question. Instead, she strips away all evasions, dispensing with determinism and limpid relativism, and she addresses the question from an unrepentant realist point of view: there is truth and value in moral reasoning, evil is a force with effects in the world, and it's a complex topic that we can nonetheless navigate, guided by our intuitions.
There have been a whole range of theories about evil: that it's a positive, pseudo-divine force in the universe (Manichaeism), that it's a manifestation of a destructive impulse inherent in human psychology (Freud), that it's the result of some form of self-denial or deception (Jung), and that it's a tool used by institutions to dominate freedom- and power-seeking individuals (Nietzsche). Midgley covers these with patience and perspective, eventually coming around to a theory of morality that relies on the concept of balance between rational motivations.
One of the benefits of this approach is that it gives a certain intelligible model to the imagination. It's hard to imagine any realistic experience of BEING EVIL in our rational, well-structured world... as a fiction author writing dramatic characters, I have this trouble quite a bit... but through Midgley's lens of motivation and imbalance and the collapse of self-awareness, there's a certain insight that you don't get from other, more romantic theories.
If Midgley was simply laying out a simple model for moral thinking, it would be a fairly boring book, because she is eminently reasonable and unpretentious. However, she understands and respects the intellectual struggle here, highlighting dramatic philosophies and working through their implications, and she acknowledges the vast, unsolvable dissonance that comes with thinking about evil from within a moral framework. It's this respect for the conversation that makes the book engaging, and honestly, I'd say my four out of five stars is actually a pretty conservative rating....more
A really beautiful book. Rarely have I been so caught up in the emotional turmoil of the characters; Wittgenstein, Russell, and Moore are given rich iA really beautiful book. Rarely have I been so caught up in the emotional turmoil of the characters; Wittgenstein, Russell, and Moore are given rich inner lives, palpable with pain, different in every way but all equally lucid and illuminated. It helps, of course, that I'm interested in their theory and their influence within philosophy, but that's just a tangent, a dusting of authenticity upon what is really a semi-historical epic of personalities at war with themselves. Can't recommend it enough....more
An amazingly understated take on the zombie genre... essentially a novel of everyday life in the margins of a world overrun and collapsed. Its messageAn amazingly understated take on the zombie genre... essentially a novel of everyday life in the margins of a world overrun and collapsed. Its message is well-sent: the walking dead genre may not be about the crusty, desperate world after the plague... it may, even moreso, be about the comfortable life we've lost, with all its trivialities, and about how, in its ashes, the possibility of losing it again becomes very immediate.
The novel is smart and well-paced, sharp, believable in its detail, and well-stocked with relatable characters. It's also got a rich formal approach, moving seamlessly through flashbacks, building up a mythology as it establishes its main-timeline setting and protagonists. Even so, there's a certain thinness to it: its surface is polished and calculated, but if you go looking for depth -- meaningful motifs, symbols and metanarratives connecting the experiences of the characters -- it turns out to be less cerebral than its austerity and minimalism would suggest.
Still, there are switches and revelations that seem to rewrite parts of the novel in retrospect, and these -- functioning as hidden dimensions -- will give you something to think about, beyond guns and gore and brains. I may discover more to love on another reading. For now, though, it doesn't quite reach my top tier....more
I've never reviewed an individual author's collection of poetry, and it's hard to get my mind around it. There were sharp and excellent poems, and poeI've never reviewed an individual author's collection of poetry, and it's hard to get my mind around it. There were sharp and excellent poems, and poems that just didn't make an impression. I'm still learning to read and appreciate contemporary poetry, and Kelly's book will be one of the first that I've read all the way through. I feel a little foolish trying to evaluate it... but being foolish is necessary sometimes, so here's my best go!
This collection felt warm and methodical, with notes of bitterness. It has a sense of yearning for the freedom of the wilderness, but I get a sense that when the author actually digs around in that impulse, she finds her wilderness troubling. The poet's voice, and the relatively conventional structure of the poems, allow the central motifs to come through very clearly, and so it feels like a very earnest and intelligible journey.
As I mentioned, some of the poems are striking and brilliant. "Balloon" is one of my favorites, and I find that the experimentation in "How to be alone" really serves it well (the shape, the pace, the echoes of pop culture). These thrive on their internal play with images within the context of their larger idea. Kelly's sensibility is wider than individual lines and phrases, and some poems suffered from a certain limpness as a result... never quite reaching the intensity necessary to come together.
All in all, a lovely collection for the summer nights that are coming, and I look forward to re-reading it as I develop a more subtle ear for the art....more
King knows how to twist the knot in the right places, and his skills are on display in The Outsider, his (approximately) ten millionth book. He certaiKing knows how to twist the knot in the right places, and his skills are on display in The Outsider, his (approximately) ten millionth book. He certainly doesn't shy away from using his patterns, tried and true as they are, but he is still experimenting, and the result is compulsively readable and reasonably memorable (an A and a B in those two areas, respectively).
The Outsider is kicked off with a gruesome hook, the description of a violent murder doled out in insinuations and bloody, clinical second-hand descriptions. It then settles into a slow-burn first half that lets us get to know the characters, and become invested in their stories. There is a prime suspect pegged for this crime, a pillar of the community named Terry Maitland, and the evidence is strong enough that local law enforcement is 100% convinced of his guilt, and treats him accordingly.
King leverages our sympathy for Maitland, prioritizing this over the darker and more probing question of whether he actually did it. King uses this crime to critique a certain pathology of law enforcement -- their ability to create a closed epistemology around their suspicion of guilt, to willingly ignore counterevidence, and to use this manufactured certainty as a way of justifying their own brutality. Aside from the driving force of the procedural plot itself, this becomes the most interesting theme of the first half, which is clear and precise and technical.
In the second half, King's novel slips into a more traditional horror format, with tension built on redemption arcs, conflicts of credulity and disbelief, and everyday heroes chasing a supernatural villain. Again, it works -- this is King's territory, and he hits his beats. By the end, the resolution comes as a balm, and the are some new additions to King's mythology: one of his returning heroes comes into her own, and we are introduced to a new (type of?) villain at large within the multiverse.
Come to The Outsider hungry to be entertained, and leave it with the satisfaction befitting a Demon who's just consumed the perfect portion of our pitiful species' hate and fear. King is still going strong in 2019!...more
Imaginary landscapes coalescing from the fog, memory and relationships as specters, the constellations as illegible celestial map — the layering of biImaginary landscapes coalescing from the fog, memory and relationships as specters, the constellations as illegible celestial map — the layering of big ideas in Phillips’ chapbook is impressive. I’m not an experienced reader of chapbooks, so it took me a bit to get fully sync’d up with this one, but it was a rewarding journey.
The aforementioned landscapes are oriented around landmarks, which give us some of my favorite poems from the collection: the cathedral, the willow tree, the ocean, the forest at the center of sorrow. Others follow fleeting encounters between the specters that inhabit (sparsely) these winding paths. And because of the way the figures come and go, and the landscapes melt together, the whole thing has a bleary dreamlike quality.
Phillips’ distinctive flow reinforces the quality of being lost among ephemera. His lines continuously digress, moving away from their origins, and it starts to feel like you’re discovering what you’re looking for as you’re finding it. This demands re-reading at times, and it requires presence of mind to follow the imagery along its unraveling path.
It was a transportive experience, and did something I think I appreciate about this format: it gave me a sense that this is a unified project, a single complex idea developed according to its own necessity. My favorites were “And If I Fall,” “And Swept All the Visible Signs Away,” and “Single Frame of Winter.” Kudos. Thank you Mr Phillips and Sibling Rivalry....more
A truly radical accomplishment in fantasy writing, differentiating itself in myriad ways from the conventional fare, and fleshing out a vibrant, cohesA truly radical accomplishment in fantasy writing, differentiating itself in myriad ways from the conventional fare, and fleshing out a vibrant, cohesive universe. The cosmetic stuff is important, but easily dispensed with: the novel takes place in an alternate-history late-medieval/Renaissance Europe, where various competing strains of Christian and pre-Christian tradition have blossomed into distinct kingdoms and indigenous cultures. The main character is Phedre, a strong, crafty female, deeply embedded in courtly, political, and military affairs.
There are few weaknesses I can cite, aside from some quibbles. Carey is an ingenious sculptor of cultures, characters, and mythologies, creating a universe that's both familiar and dizzyingly exotic. She is also an excellent writer, in a sort of anachronistic way -- she reminds me of Tolkien in spirit, though not in application. There are times when her writing gets overwrought, with certain phrases needlessly stylized when some simpler alternative would do. There is also such a breadth of names and invented vocabulary, the reading experience can be mystifying, and you'll probably need to be patient enough to look certain people and factions up in the appendices at the start of the novel.
However, these slight obstacles are more than worth the larger experience. One of the most important, revolutionary aspects of Kushiel's Dart is that the treatment of violence is so different from most fantasy. In so much fantasy, there is a stylized brutality that's almost sadistic, with the writer (and presumably the readers) getting off on the gory details of a violent, patriarchal world, and it's taken for granted that this exotic primitiveness is appropriate and naturalistic. Carey makes none of these assumptions... in her world, a refined, courtly sensibility coexists with the requisite "muddy and bloody" aesthetic of most pseudo-realist fantasy. This makes for a much more balanced reading experience. In many cases, conflicts and impasses that would be solved through violence in most fantasy... rivalries, duels, political confrontations... are solved through sex and desire. This use of sexuality in the place of violence opens whole new vistas for the genre that Carey has so affected.
For anyone who reads fantasy and loves it for all its larger possibilities... who wants to see a new angle on the aesthetic, its protagonists, and its intersection with other genres... Kushiel's Dart is absolutely essential. I'm moving on to the rest of the books in the series, and I'm pretty excited about them....more
A whimsical storybook experiment, marshaling the author's considerable knowledge of musical theory and his philosophical, ecological, and social conceA whimsical storybook experiment, marshaling the author's considerable knowledge of musical theory and his philosophical, ecological, and social concerns. It's so varied and visual, it's hard to present a simple summary... a pair of shrimp, observing an ecological breakdown around them, follow a mystical trail of clues to find the center of the universe. The fish are colorfully anthropomorphized, along with the rest of the characters, who include mammals, insects, trees, and a few noteworthy humans. An impressive array of images come together in the service of this eccentric story, which glows with a blissful, spontaneous sensibility.
The Crustacean Codex is not propelled by any gripping drama; the characters don't have rich interior lives, and the conflicts are not morally challenging or ambiguous. Instead, Suarez has created an intimate, harmonious treatment of woven visual and conceptual motifs, and he has done so in clear, rhythmic language. It is a singular work, refined for close attention and appreciation, and if that sort of thing sounds like your bag, give it a read....more
This anthology, collecting stories from a slew of young horror authors, gave me just what I wanted from it: serious, challenging, unexpected approacheThis anthology, collecting stories from a slew of young horror authors, gave me just what I wanted from it: serious, challenging, unexpected approaches to a genre that's become overrun with cliche.
It proclaims on the back of the book that there are no vampires or werewolves or zombies, which was already a promising pledge for the collection to make. Even more impressive, there's nary a lonely ghost or haunted house. I can't begin to say how nice this is, when even the most current horror (i.e. American Horror Story) is built around repeating and exploiting the same horror tropes.
In a way, by avoiding the cliches, Sleep of Reason ends up creating some NEW tropes, which become motifs in this book: psychologically damaged children, birth as a form of body horror, and uncontrolled organic growth... those are three that I can identify, right off the bat. In this way, Sleep of Reason is actually a gallery of purer, more immediate horror devices... not mediated by convention, but drawn directly from the real-world anxieties of the creators (and, by extension, of culture at large... or at least a certain young, creative demographic).
Not all the stories in Sleep of Reason were home runs (or headshots, or whatever). The ones that were: The Child Eater, The Untimely Death of Smokey II, Do Better, Old Echoes, and Four PM is Tea Time. Those were perfectly crafted, innovative, and genuinely horrifying.
That's already a pretty good record, but even beyond that, there are many more stories... probably 50-80%... that I remember with mild dread, and looking back through the book, they still jump immediately to mind and give me some shivers.
An excellent, well-selected survey of trauma and catharsis... highly recommended....more
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