When Jason and I started dating, one of the first "summer fun in Montreal" activitites we did together was attend a ton of roller derby games. After wWhen Jason and I started dating, one of the first "summer fun in Montreal" activitites we did together was attend a ton of roller derby games. After watching the New Skids on the Block give the Sexpos a good trashing, he asked me if I'd seen the movie "Whip It!", which I hadn't. He didn't waste much time correcting that, and I was pretty happy because I loved the movie. When I saw that Shauna Cross had written the screenplay based on her novel "Derby Girl", I wanted to check it out.
This is one of those rare occurrences where the movie is a huge improvement over the source material. The story remains essentially the same: Bliss Cavendar is her tiny Texas hicktown's token misfit, with a beauty-pageant addicted mother and a somewhat indifferent father. She falls in love with roller derby, makes it into the Austen derby league, meets the cute guitarist of an indie-rock band. But eventually her old world and her new world collide and things get complicated.
Every time I read a YA book, I always end up wondering why I put myself through this. Not because the writing or stories are bad, but more because I expect a bit more than they ultimately deliver. The irritating immaturity of Bliss' voice had me gritting my teeth: I'm not really a fan of teenage girls (yes, I used to be one: I didn't especially like myself either at that point, and would probably punch myself in the face if I had a time-machine) because they are annoying, self-absorbed and whiny. I guess that makes Bliss realistic? In the movie, Ellen Page offers a quiter and deeper take on the abrassive character, which makes her a lot more likable. The other characters are not as developed in the book as they are in the movie (weird, huh?): a lot of stereotyping, cool derby names that attempt to make up for lack of substance and background (example: Maggie Mayhem in the book is in her mid-twenties and she doesn't do much; in the movie, she is a kick-ass single-mom played by Kristen Wiig). The relationship with Oliver also comes across as more realistic in the movie… Good grief…
If you like roller derby, skip this book: watch the movie and get some skates....more
It can be hard for people my age and younger to imagine that there was a no-so-distant past when being gay was so taboo that you didn’t even dare to tIt can be hard for people my age and younger to imagine that there was a no-so-distant past when being gay was so taboo that you didn’t even dare to think it. When Highsmith wrote “Carol, or the Price of Salt”, a novel about a lesbian relationship, she knew it could mean the end of her career, but she wrote it anyway and published under a pseudonym. And am I ever glad she did! This is a short, elegant and honest character study focusing on the romantic relationship between a young apprentice stage-designer and a sophisticated housewife, and the consequences this relationship will have on both their lives.
The character of Therese Belivet is just like everyone who falls in love for the first time: vulnerable, naïve, intensely self-conscious. Her lack of experience and candor is charmingly disarming: she seems simply incapable of dishonesty. When she meets the beautiful Carol Aird at the department store where she works, she is instantly smitten – and surprised when Carol returns her interest and invites her on an aimless road trip across the country.
To me, Carol was a heartbreaking character. She spent so long living a life from which she got no satisfaction except her daughter. When her marriage is definitely beyond repair, her husband vindictively attempts to destroy her character and take their child away from her. She is put with her back against the wall, forced to choose between the only good thing to come out of her loveless marriage and the one person with whom she can be herself.
The story is bittersweet and tender, full of the fears and joys that falling in love entails. The characters are not stereotypical in the least and the ending, while ambiguous, suggests hope and happiness for the two women who refused to settle for a life of bland melancholy in a world where appearances are everything. This is a story that could have only taken place at that particular time in history: had it been set today’s New York, no one would have batted an eyelash, but just 50 years ago, it was scandalous.
The interesting subtitle, “The Price of Salt”, feels like an allusion to the sacrifice Therese and Carol have to make to be themselves (the price of being able to really savor and enjoy the taste of life) in a world that is just not ready to accept them. This book moved me very deeply, and I enjoyed every page. The movie adaptation with Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett is also wonderful, visually stunning and very faithful to the book (Therese is a photographer in the movie, instead of a set designer, but that’s the only liberty they have taken with the story). I recommend both, but read the book first! It will make the movie much more enjoyable....more
When I was a teenager, reading Maurice Druon’s “The Accursed Kings” series was considered hopelessly nerdy, especially since I was also an avowed fan When I was a teenager, reading Maurice Druon’s “The Accursed Kings” series was considered hopelessly nerdy, especially since I was also an avowed fan of the 70’s French TV show adaptation. And now that George R.R. Martin has admitted these books were a major inspiration for his epic fantasy series “A Song of Ice and Fire”, Druon’s masterful work is a fashionable read once again! When I went to Paris ten years ago, I absolutely wanted to stop by the Pont Neuf to take a picture of the memorial to Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, who was executed there in 1314. Yes, I am still hopelessly nerdy.
To me, this series is the mother of all historical fiction. It has intrigue, murder, love, betrayal, war, family rivalries… and the amazing thing is that it all actually happened! Of course, Druon adds dramatic flair here and there, but the “Accursed Kings” tells the story of the events leading up the Hundred Years’ War through the fall of the Order of the Temple (the Knights Templar) and the end of the Capetian dynasty.
King Philip the Fair has ruled France with an iron fist (hence his nickname the “Iron King”) for almost thirty years. A seven-year persecution of the Knights Templar is finally about to come to an end when his daughter Isabelle, the unhappy Queen of England, informs him that his three daughters-in-law are having adulterous affairs. She plots with her cousin, the count Robert d’Artois, to have them exposed. Robert is motivated by a hateful need for vengeance against two of the girls’ mother, his aunt Mahaut d’Artois, who he believes has unjustly inherited his lands and title. While Isabelle and Robert set a trap for the treacherous princesses Marguerite, Blanche and Jeanne, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar his burnt alive, but finds enough strength to curse king Philip, the pope, Clément V and the king’s councillor Guillaume de Nogaret, to die within the year. Soon after, the princesses are exposed and imprisoned and their lovers executed. Within a few months, the pope, Nogaret and the king die (some of natural causes, others because the cursed was “helped along” a bit by their enemies). These events are the stone dropped in the pond that will ripple over the years into the most massive war of succession that has ever hit the countries of France and England.
Druon’s prose is amazing. Strong and clean, but also evocative and almost poetic at times. He takes historical characters who are larger than life and makes them flesh and blood. You can feel Robert’s vicious rage and cunning as he spins his web to catch his cousins in the act, you hear the ice in Philip the fair’s voice as he states that his only regret about executing the Templars was to have failed to remove their tongues first, you know Marguerite’s disdain for her husband and lust for her lover. The entire intricate Capetian family tree comes to life brilliantly under his pen and the characters stay with you for a long time.
The complicated intrigues, realpolitik, alliances and treacheries are so well-explained that you can follow the plot without getting confused. If anything, you anticipate the characters’ next move as if you were watching a particularly crazy game of chess. Everyone is hungry for power, tries to pull strings to get it; life in Medieval France was cruel and people had to be ruthless to get ahead. Druon explains history in a language plain enough to appeal to the most casual of readers, and yet captivating enough to keep you on the edge of your seat about events that took place seven hundred years ago.
If only all historical fiction was as well written as Druon’s books! I strongly recommend “The Iron King” and the entire “Accursed Kings” series to fans of history, and to those looking for something similar to the infamous “Song of Ice and Fire”. A word of warning to those: what Martin needs 800 pages to say, Druon can tell in about 300 pages, and in the most elegant language you can imagine. Much, much better, in my humble opinion....more
This book has everything it needed to make me fall in love with it, and it worked. I am obsessed with the roaring 20’s, I love fairy tale retellings, This book has everything it needed to make me fall in love with it, and it worked. I am obsessed with the roaring 20’s, I love fairy tale retellings, I worship beautiful language and I yearn for magic. Enter Catherynne M. Valente. The woman who writes as if she lived in my dreams…
“Speak Easy” is a short, stunning novella retelling the “Twelve Dancing Princesses”, a fairy tale I hadn’t even hear of before, using thinly disguised versions of Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald as the main characters. This is what might happen if “The Great Gatsby” had been written by an bathtub gin-drunk Hans Christian Andersen.
The tone may take some getting used to. Valente chose to tell this story with the voice of a third-person omnipotent narrator who sounds an awful lot like a slang-loving, bootlegging genie from 1924. It’s poetic, sexy, full of colorful images and evocative metaphors: not always easy to follow, but oh so gorgeous to read out loud. I loved the ornate, decadent, whimsical language and word play!
“Zelda Fair rolled back in the tub, water breaking over her tummy, rolling down her throat. She called him with one crooked finger and the boy in the silver meringue suit skedaddled over on the quick. She crooked her finger again. He bent down. The reek of gin snaked up his nose – she was swimming in the booze supply. Her pearly dress stuck like an oil slick to her breasts; the drying liquor on her shoulders made her skin prickle.”
Gawd damn! I wish I could write like that!!
In a wild city that just may be New York, the Hotel Artemisia plays host to the wildest parties, the most powerful men, the most beautiful girls and the very best bootleg liquor. This Eden for sinners of all kind is ran by Al, a man who just may be some sort of Faerie King. A young talented girl named Zelda takes up residence at the Artemisia, to party as much as she can while also trying to figure out who she is and what she is capable of. Frankie is a bellhop with literary ambitions who falls madly in love with the flamboyant Zelda, and who will use the Artemisia’s magic to make her talent his.
Valente here seems to join the in with the theory that Scott Fitzgerald stole a significant amount of his writing from his wife and tried as hard as he could to silence her and take credit for her work – a possibility experts have entertained for a while. Valente’s version made my heart break because of the real Zelda’s tragic fate (a life-long struggle with schizophrenia and eventual death when the psychiatric hospital she was committed to burnt down) and because of the surreal language with which she describes the wicked game in which Frankie takes her talent away from her.
The opulent language and lush descriptions, fantastical characters and sing-song prose of this lovely little book can all be absorbed in a single sitting. But be prepared to be haunted by the voice of the Artemisia and the story it will tell you....more
I cannot make up my mind about whether I enjoyed or despised this book. And the more I think about it, the more I think that it might be because DonnaI cannot make up my mind about whether I enjoyed or despised this book. And the more I think about it, the more I think that it might be because Donna Tartt can’t seem to decide herself how she feels about the Ivy League blue bloods she wrote about: sometimes she loves them and wants to be like them and sometimes she really hates their guts. This feeling of ambivalence covered the entire book like an angry but undecided cloud; it was annoying.
I also feel like the book had a hard time deciding what kind of book it even was: the set-up of secrets, murder and paranoia is all classic noir, but it’s not really dark and bloody enough to be full-on noir. The complete lack of moral barometer of the characters, and their obsession with beauty as an end in itself is a great launching pad for a fascinating character study or psychological thriller. But that’s not really the way the narrative is developed, since the story is told as a recollection of events long-passed… It could also be meant to be critical of the elitist academic culture, but Tartt doesn’t have the talent (or wit) of Edith Warton, so it just sounds like she bitterly envies the tweed-wearing, stick-shift driving pompous asses she created.
Having read and loved “Brideshead Revisited”, I feel like Tartt wanted to write her own version of the story with Richard as a stand in for Charles Ryder and a murder dumped in the middle of the story. The similarities between the two characters bothered me through the entire book. Just like Charles, Richard just wants to be one of them, one of those privileged, pampered, lazily intellectual classmates he hangs out with. But while I cared about Charles immensely, Richard struck me as a little pathetic. Of course, none of the characters in this book are remotely likable, and that’s perfectly OK with me, but I enjoy characters who are unlikable with a little bit of panache, I guess.
The other characters are interesting, but, except for Bunny (who I had quite enough of by page 200) they feel underdeveloped. I wanted to explore their personalities a bit more. The dynamic between the twins as well as Camilla and Henry’s relationship are only superficially grazed upon, when digging a little deeper would have been fascinating. I totally see the appeal of self-absorbed and arrogant intellectuals and how glamorous they seem: I used to want to be one myself! But having seen the ugly side of academia, now people like that just makes me roll my eyes. I also never understood what makes Julian so charismatic, how he has a hold on Henry and how he managed to have such a troubling influence on his entire class. He seemed simply aloof to me, and I can’t grasp how he inspired his students to recreate a bacchanalia.
The plot device of telling you what’s going to happen in the first couple of pages was clever: it creates an anticipation. You know what’s going to happen but you want to know how, and I really enjoyed that. The descriptions were lovely and atmospheric and the explorations of the little group’s strange philosophies and ideas was quite mesmerizing - as was the slow and toxic process of their little group falling to pieces. Parts of the book are beautifully written and moving, but it always feels a bit too cold and detached to be really gripping. I can see how some people would love this, but maybe it’s because I’ve been to school with people like that and wanted them dead: I just can’t feel invested. I was curious to know how this all wrapped up, but I wasn’t on the edge of my seat.
Even after a second read (which I will admit was more enjoyable than the first), I'm still not sure. So because I can’t figure it out, I am giving this a neutral 3 stars. ...more
If you follow me on Instagram (its ok if you don’t: it’s just pics of what I read with a beverage next to it, and pictures of my cat beUpdated review:
If you follow me on Instagram (its ok if you don’t: it’s just pics of what I read with a beverage next to it, and pictures of my cat being weird), you will have seen my copy of “Little, Big” next to a mug of bright blue tea – blue magic matcha from David’s Tea. This book is a lot like that tea. Unexpected, whimsical, and while I don’t love it, I keep making some because I keep feeling that I will eventually love it. It’s not a bad book, by any stretch of the imagination, and I enjoyed it more this time around, but I think it will never be a book that I just love.
What I do love is the images Crowley conjured up, like the labyrinthine house of Edgewood, its mysterious orrery, George Mouse's strange building in the City, the mirror journeys of Smoky and Auberon, Aunt Cloud's deck of cards, an upstate New York landscape that is more dream than reality...
This book is rewarding, but it's hard work. It's also worth a second glance, when you have a better idea of what you are in for and can keep all the convoluted events a little straighter. I bumped it up by one star.
--- Original review:
My boyfriend husband lent me this one after I raved about “Shadow of the Wind” at him like a lunatic. After reading “Little, Big”, I can see why he would think I would enjoy it. Crowley’s prose is beautiful, and creates a dream-like world to explore; it felt very much like walking into a Brian Froud illustration. Familiar and yet inexplicably alien. I enjoy epics that follow families around for generation, detailing the delicate web that holds the great family tapestry together. I also love Tarot cards and magical realism, so obviously this should have been a win.
BUT. The writing required an indecent amount of focus. It was really beautiful, but I often had to stop, re-read the last paragraph or two to make sure I was keeping track of everything that was going on. Not unlike Victorian fairy photography, if you blink too long or don’t pay attention to what you see at the corner of your eye, you will miss something and end up confused. That is not always a bad thing: the fact that you can’t precisely date this story is wonderful: turn of the century, 1960’s… I have no idea when this book is supposed to take place and that’s awesome! But I couldn’t read it before going to bed because if I got just a little bit sleepy and skipped words, I started missing stuff and getting frustrated.
This is really my main problem with “Little, Big”. I wanted to get lost in that alternate world Crowley created, and I had to work so hard on making sure I understood what was going on that I never really felt like I could escape in the pages. I liked the idea of a family following the prophecy they have been told to accomplish and seeing how their lives follow the paths laid out for them, sometimes in very unexpected ways. The characters were a bit under-developed, but I feel like that might have been appropriate: after all, they are all just waiting for something to happen and don’t spend much time trying to be their own selves. That being said, Smoky broke my heart. He seriously did: I wanted to beat him to a pulp.
Maybe I need to read this one again. Maybe I need to explore Crowley’s other works, as this was a very nice book, that just felt a little too impenetrable to be fully enjoyed....more
Young adult fiction is tough for me. I find so many writers have really great ideas so I really want to read it, but when I do, it always falls just aYoung adult fiction is tough for me. I find so many writers have really great ideas so I really want to read it, but when I do, it always falls just a little bit short of what I feel they could have done. I’m not sure if that’s a problem with the books being tailored for a younger (than me) target audience, the writers not daring to go a little bit further or just me.
When I read the synopsis for “The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly”, I was instantly fascinated. This is the weird and dark kind of stuff I love to read and I thought “who care if it’s YA, it sounds awesome!”. And in many ways, it was! I am fascinated by cults and how they seduce, influence and damage people. Blind faith turns people into blood-thirsty monsters and it freaks me out. If you combine that setting with the “Handless Maiden” fairy tale, it just sounds wonderfully brutal, so I ran to my book store and got a copy.
Here is what I loved about it. The writing was powerful, atmospheric and unforgettable. Minnow’s deranged relationship with her parents, her constant fear of the other people living in her community, her curiosity of the outside world – all these things are beautifully painted and deeply moving.
I loved Minnow, and was 100% on her side through the whole book. I admired the lucidity she manages to keep while living with these brainwashed fanatics, how she cannot shake the feeling that something is rotten, how she refuses to be submissive when things she knows are wrong happen to those she loves. I felt the bitter sting of the betrayals she endures, the terrifying hope she feels when she meets and befriends Jude, her insatiable curiosity and urge to learn when she gets out of that awful place… It’s all completely haunting and even if I read it months ago, I still think about it. Her relationship with Jude was not a romance in any traditional definition of that word, but you understand how these two love and care for each other, in a completely wild and organic way and it was very moving.
“Jude taught me what love was: to be willing to hold on to another person’s pain. That’s it.”
The horrifying descriptions of what religious fanaticism does to people – and what it can make them do – floored me. I would read some passages and feel physically ill. The descriptions of what goes on in the Kevinian camp, what the Prophet does and tells his deacons to do... that was just chilling and heartbreakingly well-written. People who join cults are often the kind of people who need an answer, any answer, even if it’s the wrong one. They want someone else to think for them and tell them what to do because they don’t have the strength to do it themselves, and that is illustrated in the rawest way I have ever read in this book. What these people have is not faith, its emptiness and that fucking terrifies me. The hypocrisy, the madness, the terror, the way the Prophet feeds on his followers like a parasite… None of these things are easy to read, but Oakes made it morbidly fascinating.
The structure was great: the device of alternating between flashbacks and present day was perfectly timed so that you just have to keep reading. You slowly put together the puzzle of what happened to Minnow, and the more you know, the more you need to know. The build-up felt like watching dark water slowly filling the room around you.
What bothered me: once in detention, Minnow’s interaction with the FBI agent assigned to her case never felt believable. She is too calm, too cold. If I had been through what she endured, I would have been a mess and I can’t imagine anyone managing to remain so composed while being interrogated. I wanted her conversation with agent Wilson to be more fleshed out; it all seemed to resolve itself too easily and too quickly.
I also wasn’t convinced by her fellow inmates in juvenile detention. Mind you, I know very little about what juvi is like and what kind of people wind up there, so maybe it was completely accurate and I am just too much of a goodie-two-shoe to get it. Angel was a great character, but she was not developed enough for my taste: I would have loved to get to know her and her story a little better. I also really wanted to know more about what happened to the other survivors of the fire that destroyed the Kevinian camp. You know some of the women made it but we don't get to know much about their experience or testimony, which would have been interesting.
It just ultimately felt like the envelope could have been pushed a little bit further. It was a gripping read, with a powerful heroine, a strong message about thinking for yourself and I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys a fucked up story, but it left me hungry for more… 3 ½ stars rounded to 4....more
I knew going in that this would not be a pleasant read. I knew it would upset me, disgust me, make me angry and make me feel inconsolably sad. But I aI knew going in that this would not be a pleasant read. I knew it would upset me, disgust me, make me angry and make me feel inconsolably sad. But I also knew that if someone was brave enough to write it, I could be brave enough to read it. This is an important topic and the entire world needs to have serious discussion about consent, rape, rape-culture, respect, compassion and survival. I think everyone should read this book. It’s flawed, full of horrible things, unlikable and hateful people, but no one can afford to avert their eyes from the fact that what happens to Emma on the page happens in real life to too many people – because we have looked the other way for too long.
Anyone who reads the back of this book knows what this is about, so I won’t summarize it. My review is also littered with spoilers, so at your own risks…
There’s no graphic descriptions of what happens to Emma in this book, but that doesn’t make reading about it any less of a punch in the heart. Many reviewers have commented on the clever choice Louise O’Neill made, to have her main character be a mean girl who sleeps around, parties hard, manipulates and lies to her friends - and I agree with them. Everyone screams in outrage when a well-behaved, blameless girl is assaulted; but we all know that the assailant’s lawyers will try to turn even the most irreproachable girl into a harlot, to take some blame off their client and push it back onto the victim. To make it seem like their clients were simply acting upon an invitation, a coaxing, an irresistible temptation that a woman was dangling in front of their nose. Showing a rape victim who is a selfish, cruel, sexually active girl who wears skimpy outfits to parties is O’Neill’s brave statement: even girls like that are not asking for it. No one is asking for it. And yet the world still tells women to not get raped instead of telling men not to rape…
Women are still raised with the insidious idea that they are only worth something if someone desires them. It’s awful, but it’s true and I have heard some of the most mindboggling statements from people of all walks of life, who all seem united by this idea that if you are not attractive, no one will be interested in you. Girls like Emma integrate this message too literally, and will stop at nothing to be wanted. Sometimes that means dressing in skimpy clothes, sometimes that means playing the party girl who drinks and takes drugs, sometimes that means letting boys do thing that you don’t really want… Emma is actually so oblivious to the concept of consent that she doesn’t immediately realize she has been raped: after all she didn’t say “no”… but neither did she say “yes”.
Even if you don’t like Emma (and I sure as hell didn’t – I was bullied by girls exactly like her for a decade), reading about what happens to her, how her friends turn their backs on her, how the town takes the aggressors’ side is nothing short of devastating. I cried bitter, ragey tears to see how even her parents don’t really know what to believe: they want things to go back to normal, they want their daughter the way she used to be. I was reading and all I could think was: “These people don’t love their daughter, they love the idea of their daughter, the symbol of their daughter, what she represented. And now that she is broken they don’t want her…”. I lent the book to a very good friend of mine who has two daughters of her own, and she was even more outraged than I was by the O’Donovan’s behaviours.
The story of Brock Turner has been all over the news for the past couple of weeks, and I couldn’t help but think of this book as I read article after article about his reduced sentence. This is exactly what happens to the three boys who rape Emma: they are the local football heroes, and the town rallies around them despite overwhelming evidence of their hateful acts. “Being a rapist is not as bad as being a slut” they seem to say. “These boys are better than you and more worthy of our support” is what Emma understands every time she sees people acting like she deserved what happened to her. Victim-blaming and victim-shaming is almost as damaging as the assault itself, and O’Neill does a fantastic job of showing how Emma’s rape is something that keeps on happening to her. She has no memory of the actual event because she was passed out, but every day brings a reminder that re-opens the wounds and make it impossible for her to heal.
The end is frustrating, mostly because I am sure a lot of victims make the same choice Emma makes, and my heart breaks for them. I cannot blame them from giving up and backing down when they realize the fight is almost impossible to win. And stories like the Brock Turner case will probably discourage more women from reporting their own sexual assaults, because now we have a blatant example of how even when someone is recognized guilty, justice can still be horribly cheated by the very people who should dole out a fair sentence. It’s a cruel ending to a brutally realistic book, and I wanted to punch the wall when I turned the last page.
This book will make you think about consent, personal responsibility and gender equality. This book will make you angry and it might make you feel hopeless. I gave it five stars even if I didn’t enjoy the read in the way I usually enjoy books, but this is a very, very important read. I for one am very glad that a YA novel has been written about these issues because young girls and boys need to be aware and better educated about sex, consent and respect, and I hope that it will spark more conversations about rape-culture, slut-shaming and victim-blaming. Please read this book....more
I find Ira Levin’s novels fascinating, and it took me a long time to truly understand why. I grew up in the suburbs, and I hated every minute of it. MI find Ira Levin’s novels fascinating, and it took me a long time to truly understand why. I grew up in the suburbs, and I hated every minute of it. My neighborhood looked like the opening scene of “Edward Scissorhands”, when all the cars pull out of their respective driveways simultaneously. I was a little punk kid in a high school populated mostly by Britney-worshipping idiots. I was bullied, I had no friends, everything that I found interesting was happening an hour and half bus ride away. Pure hell for a misfit teenager. When I first heard about the “Stepford Wives”, it was described to me as a horror story about living in the ‘burbs and I thought “I know EXACTLY what that’s like!”. I expected a story about conformism, à la “Body Snatchers”, and while there is an aspect of that in “Stepford Wives”, there are many other layers to the story.
Joanna Eberhart is a talented photographer, living in the big city with her husband Walter and their two children. The family decides to relocate to a charming Connecticut suburb, where everything seems a bit too good to be true. Joanna quickly notices that the women of Stepford, in particular, are odd: always perfectly put together, they are obsessed with housework and a few of them have given up illustrious careers to… clean and look after their husbands, who are all members of a hermetic Men’s Association... When Joanna’s friend Bobbie – who had always been messy, outspoken and opinionated – starts behaving like the other drone-like housewives, Joanna becomes convinced that there is something sinister at work in Stepford.
It is a short book, and while the subject matter can seem dated in 2016 (as the characters have sensibilities that would put them right at home in an episode of “Mad Men” and the explanation as to how the Stepford housewives are “made” makes no scientific sense whatsoever), it is well-worth the read. Levin’s writing gets incredibly creepy, but he eases you into the atmosphere so gently that you don’t realize how frightening the scenario of Joanna’s life is until it’s too late. It is as much psychological horror as it is a screeching social satire.
Some people seem to think Levin was making fun of stereotypical housewives, but in fact, he is attacking the conservative hostility towards Women’s Liberation movement. “Wouldn’t it be easier if all women were submissive?” is not a new way of thinking (some Middle Eastern countries are a perfect example of how alive and well that idea still is), and while North American women don’t have to deal with this too much anymore, it’s interesting to think of how prevalent that way of thinking was not so long ago.
But to me, the truly terrifying part is that Joanna eventually realizes she can’t trust anyone, not her friends and not even her husband… That the villain could be the person you trust and love above anyone else – a partner who used to love this identity he is now trying to take away for his convenience and pleasure… To say that this idea gives me the chills is an understatement: it flat out freaks me out. Reading about it was unsettling and it made me very angry. It also made me realize that Levin is in fact a feminist, because his bad guys are men who oppress women for their own selfish agenda. They manipulate the women they claim to love, by making them feel like there is something wrong with them, and why can’t they change just a little bit? Wouldn’t it be better if they were a little more like this, a little less like that? The treachery of something as seemingly innocent as asking your spouse to compromise just a little and then chalk their concerns to hormonal paranoia is slimy and troubling. Especially when you think that there are people out there who really do think that way.
Levin deals in subtle horror: there is no gore, just the terror of being powerless. The increasing sentiment of isolation felt by Joanna as the women around her turn into drones one after the other, indicative of the ineluctability of her own fate – that’s truly scary. I highly recommend this book, as a great piece of historical horror and a fascinating commentary on a society that is not as far behind us as we would like to think....more
"It's always easier not to think for oneself. Find a nice safe Updated review after a re-read in November 2019.
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“Change is freedom, change is life."
"It's always easier not to think for oneself. Find a nice safe hierarchy and settle in. Don't make changes, don't risk disapproval, don't upset your syndics. It's always easiest to let yourself be governed."
"There's a point, around age twenty, when you have to choose whether to be like everybody else the rest of your life, or to make a virtue of your peculiarities."
"Those who build walls are their own prisoners. I'm going to go fulfill my proper function in the social organism. I'm going to go unbuild walls.”
This novel will for ever be one of my favorite books: when graceful, intelligent prose and brave, nuanced ideas collide into one great story that intertwines the personal and the political, you get a treasure like “The Dispossessed”. This book jumped at the top of my favorites list mere seconds after I finished the last line.
Shevek was born and raised on the anarchist colony of Anarres, and while he has always embraced the principles on which his society was founded, as his work in physics becomes more complicated, challenging and promising, he begins to see cracks in the utopic system his ancestors created. A visit to the twin (but capitalist) planet Urras brings into sharp relief the differences between the two worlds, but also brings to light more commonalities than Shevek had expected. He soon finds himself caught in a high stake political game that would seek to make him the figurehead of a new revolution – or let him take the fall for its failure, depending on who has the upper hand.
LeGuin built her story carefully, and the two narratives, one set on Urras and one on Annarres, feed each other and collide at the perfect moment to bring the story together flawlessly. Brilliant narrative structure aside, this book is simply stuffed with beautiful and thought-provoking passages I had to stop and re-read a few times.
It would be a gross over-simplification to say that this is a sci-fi book about communism. Yes, it is that, but it is so much more. It is a nuanced, idealistic, heartbreaking, gentle and extremely intelligent novel. The subtitle “Ambiguous Utopia” is perfect: a book like that challenges the reader without ever trying to preach to them, letting them make their own minds up about the fictional anarcho-communist planet of Annares and its relation to its capitalist home world of Urras.
Shevek is one of the most beautifully rendered characters I’ve encountered. Stuck between both worlds, he struggles with the philosophies he lived his whole life by, the advantages of the new world he is discovering and his longing for what he left behind. He is flawed and lost, but also incredibly wise and brave, with a strong sense of compassion and integrity. I just loved him. And unexpectedly, I found his relationship with his partner Takver to be deeply romantic.
Le Guin definitely preached to the choir in terms of politics with me, I admit it. But I admired the fearlessness with which she chose to point out that whatever system of wealth distribution you live in, people will try to exploit each other, people will bully and ostracize those who don’t fit quite right with their herd, people will feel jealously and hatred. People on Annares share the wealth and the work, but they are still humans, with all the good and negative connotations that entails. This is why her utopia is ambiguous: human nature remains no matter what system you place it in and while you can dream of giving people a better life by giving them a system or code to get rid of inequalities, you can never remove the wild card of “people and how they will behave” from the equation.
I believe this book to be a classic, and I believe it completely transcends the science-fiction label. It is nothing less than a great work of art in my eyes and I recommend it to everyone.
"You cannot buy the Revolution. You cannot make the Revolution. You can only be the Revolution. It is in your spirit or it is nowhere."...more
Updated review after a second reading in November 2018.
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"I used to look up at night and dream of the solar system."
Ms. Valente wrote the kind of bookUpdated review after a second reading in November 2018.
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"I used to look up at night and dream of the solar system."
Ms. Valente wrote the kind of book I wish I could write, and for that I am both in awe of her, and kinda pissed off. Seriously, the woman took some of my all-time favorite things, chucked them in a blender and then wrote this book.
A documentary film maker goes missing while she is shooting her final project, about a mysteriously deserted colonial settlement on Venus. Her story is pieced together through movies, depositions, hard-boiled detective style remembrances and her own “video diary” entries. It sounds choppy and yes, you must pay attention to the dates of the various entries to not get confused, but Catherynne Valente knows just how to weave all these elements together to form a beautiful, completely original story.
The world Valente crafted for “Radiance” is an alternate Earth where the Golden Age of Hollywood has remained one of silent black and white movies because of patent wars, where humanity has explored the solar system and colonized all its planets, where the “milk” of mysterious Venusian creatures known as callow whales is what enables humans to experience space travel safely, and where making documentary movies is considered “genre” because everyone is so obsessed with lurid fantasy that it's now the mainstream. Of course, that can be too rich for some readers’ blood, and I can’t really blame them. But I am an absolute glutton for this deco-punk phantasmagoria.
I enjoyed this novel immensely, and while it is not perfect, it has a fairy tale/sci-fi/what-the-hell-is-going-on vibe to it that just blew me away. I kept thinking of the Georges Meliès movies, the exaggerated movements and expressions, the surreal plot lines and beautiful cardboard sets… I loved the non-linear, patchwork flow of the book and the alternate history where inter-planetary travel is just as H.G. Wells might have imagined it.
The narrative is a postmodern mosaic (I seem to be reading a lot of those lately…) and its a colorful, glittery literary puzzle, and it is also a love letter to silent films, to a certain dramatic aesthetic that went out of fashion but for which Valente clearly still pines.
It is dizzying, occasionally frustrating; but I also found it dazzling and exuberant. This is not really an escapist read, it’s a book that you need to chew on a bit. I’ve come to find that those are the books I usually end up enjoying the most, the challenging ones, the ones that require patience and brains.
I enjoyed (and probably understood) this novel even more the second time around! If you are a fan of Valente, or are looking for a book that’s unlike anything you’ve read before, this might just be what you are looking for!...more
I have very strong, sometimes mixed feelings about Amanda Palmer. I adore the Dresden Dolls. I still listen to their stuff all the time, I have a gorgI have very strong, sometimes mixed feelings about Amanda Palmer. I adore the Dresden Dolls. I still listen to their stuff all the time, I have a gorgeous framed poster of their reunion tour hanging over my desk. Their music is so unique, so raw and so wonderful, and it inspires me very much. While I really enjoy Amanda Palmer's solo work, I don’t think it ever quite reaches the highs she hit when she was teaming up with Brian Viglione. I’m happy to buy her new records and I was delighted to hear she had a book coming out. But I won’t not give her any money on Patreon and I don’t try to engage either her or her rabid fanbase on social media.
I have been following her career and her work for many years, and while I think she is a fantastic artist, I think that the legions of worshipping fans who believe she can do no wrong have made her immune to perfectly legitimate criticism. Her fans can be like religious fanatics, blind to her inconsistencies and occasional hypocrisy, and that really turns me off. Again, I think she is a fantastic artist, but when she is being interviewed, she comes off as very condescending because she feels above criticism. The thing is, no one is perfect, no one is above criticism, especially when one chooses to live in an ultra-public way like she does. I don’t like her as an artist any less for not being perfect and for occasionally putting her foot in her mouth. She is human, and that’s ok. But pointing out her flaws is a guaranteed way of getting an Internet-lynching from her minions, and I just don’t have that kind of time. So when I got my copy of the “Art of Asking”, I was curious to see what it would actually be about…
This book is not self-help. It’s not a how-to manual. It’s a memoir, and because it’s Amanda Palmer’s memoir, it is almost painfully confessional. But if you know anything about her music, you should be expecting to occasionally cringe from her self-indulgent over-sharing. That’s fine, whatever. The woman can clearly write and some parts of this book are deeply touching and tremendously inspiring. But as other reviewers put it, it’s the story of what worked for Amanda Palmer, and her case is so specific that it can’t possibly be considered a guideline or blueprint for indie musicians or aspiring artist.
I gave this book 3 stars because I really enjoyed reading it, I thought it was very brave in many ways, but the above-mentioned inconsistencies and hypocrisies show up here and there; it made me roll my eyes, and then I moved on and finished the book. There was enough honesty there to keep me engaged, and there are many things in there about being assertive, learning to ask for and accept help (something introverts have a hard time with at times). Amanda’s message is that human connections are important and that we need to stop being afraid of them, that we need to look at other people and let them look at us fearlessly. That’s all fantastic and praise-worthy. Encouraging creativity and human connection is obviously awesome; her writing inspired me and reminded me that its ok to be myself shamelessly. Too bad she doesn't really practice what she preaches...
That being said, her style is rather rambling and all over the place, which is fine really, because it’s very much what Amanda’ Palmer’s voice is like. I enjoy Kerouac, so stream-of-consciousness doesn’t faze me. Where I cringe is where she will make herself out to be the good guy in every single story she chose to share in this book. Do not look for humility here! There’s something of the snooty artist in Palmer’s view of herself, which is perfectly ok if you have patience for such things. I do, but in small quantities. Which is why I am not sure I would re-read this book. It was lovely because it felt like having a conversation with an artist about what they do, how they do it and how to get there. But obviously, Amanda Palmer’s main interest is Amanda Palmer.
I would recommend it to people who are interested in Internet culture and independent music, because this book gives you a great insider view. But take it with a grain of salt. Memoirs always seem to be an elaborate way for public figures to justify controversial past behaviours and this one is no different. It is not always easy to separate the art for the artist, but in Amanda Palmer’s case I have to say I will always prefer her music to her personal quirks and hang ups. That’s just me.
I don’t know how to feel about this book. One the one hand, it’s an entertaining and rather gripping read, that I gulped down in about three days, andI don’t know how to feel about this book. One the one hand, it’s an entertaining and rather gripping read, that I gulped down in about three days, and the family saga mixed with the history of the last few years of Trujillo’s regime in the Dominican Republic makes for a very interesting story. On the other hand, while I loved and had endless sympathy for Lola, and found the section about Beli’s teenage years fascinating (and horrifying), I simply couldn’t warm up to the so-called protagonist.
“The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” is the story of a family cursed with the fukù of mad love, from the mother’s affair with a pimp under Trujillo’s thumb to Oscar’s ill-fated unrequited feelings towards, well, a lot of girls who friendzone him because he is overweight and geeky. This story is narrated by the colorful Yunior, a friend of Oscar’s, who put all the pieces of this story together after its tragically inevitable denouement. Yunior is almost as nerdy as Oscar, but he hides it better – though not when he writes, as the story is very liberally sprinkled with sci-fi and fantasy references, especially “Lord of the Rings”. I wasn’t really bothered by the Spanish words and sentences, or the Dominican slang – most of it could be deciphered with context, and the rest was easily googled.
While Oscar is far from a bad guy, what ruins him, much more so than his weight or intellectual interest, is his self-pity and his refusal to actually make any kind of changes to his life. His stewing in passive self-loathing is to blame for his misery, and maybe it’s because I’ve known quite a few people like that, who refused to work on changing even the simplest things in their lives and simply carried on being miserable and blaming the whole world for it, but I just don’t have patience for it anymore, in real life or on the page, apparently.
If the book had been just about Beli, I might have liked it better, but then, I read “The Feast of the Goat” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) earlier this year, and that’s basically what that book was about, only written much more skillfully, and has more nuanced and interesting characters (it was nagging at me, so I checked and the main character of Vargas Llosa’s book is named Uriana Cabral, and Beli’s full name is Belicia Cabral; are you kidding me, Mr. Diaz?).
I re-read it to make sure I had not “read it wrong” a few years back, but alas, I am still in the minority of people who will never quite get what the fuss about this novel is....more
3 and a half stars, rounded up to 4. It took me ages to get through this book. The writing was absolutely magnificent, but a few things about this sto3 and a half stars, rounded up to 4. It took me ages to get through this book. The writing was absolutely magnificent, but a few things about this story just felt off…
This is a story about love, sex and passion, the distinction between those things, the blurry lines that confuse us, the idea that strong feelings never really die, they just go to sleep until they get a chance to reawaken. Florentino falls madly in love with Fermina, but she ends up marrying someone else - a wealthy Dr. Urbino. While her marriage is not a passionate one, she grows to love her husband and they spend fifty pretty happy years together. But for Florentino, this is a tragedy and he spends all those years waiting for her… but keeps himself distracted by sleeping with more than six-hundred women, as he waits for the good doctor to kick the bucket and free Fermina from the shackles of matrimony.
Florentino is, well… kind of a dick. There's no way around it, really. He never got over an intense adolescent crush and used that experience to justify a lifetime of morally-questionable womanizing. With a modern feminist eye, it's hard not to find a lot of the things he does icky at best, monstruous at worse. I decided to put a lid on those reactions because I knew that while Marquez might be a dirty old man, he is still a master story-teller and I wanted the story.
The writing is lush, sensual - with that touch of playfulness I have come to associate with South American writers. The emotions described are very poignant and some passages are extremely moving. But I suppose this remains within the magical realism category because the story itself is not very realistic. In many ways, it feels like a folk tale or a legend: the man who never stopped loving. That story is beautiful specifically because it is a fantasy: we know that real life errodes a lot of our passions, that love can easily become a habit; the idea of a man nourishing an unwavering desire for a woman all this time is amazing, but real-world love is nothing like what goes on in this book.
I'm not very good with obssession pretending to be love. I'm sorry to be a huge wet-blanket, especially about a book as beloved as this one, but I call bullshit: it's immature, unhealthy, creepy and ultimately disrespectful. When a lady says no, just, you know… go away. I know that this is not the point that Marquez is getting to, but personally, I just rolled my eyes at Florentino's philandering ways and thanked God I was reading fiction…
I mean, I've read many books where the author comes up with a lot of terrible stuff (off the top of my head: Marquis de Sade) and I know that the book is not an endorsment of the described behavior, but a good way to illustrate another point they are trying to get to. I get that a writer with an elegant and evocative style can also make the reader forget that they are reading something that would repulse them in reality and makes it more digestible on the page. That's great if the author has enough talent to pull something like that off, which I believe Marquez does. That's why the book gets 4 stars, and not 3.
Will I ever read it again? No. Will I read other books my Marquez? Absolutely....more
Like almost everyone, I saw the movie with the ever-stunning Audrey Hepburn. Of course, the mother of all rom-coms has very little to do with the sourLike almost everyone, I saw the movie with the ever-stunning Audrey Hepburn. Of course, the mother of all rom-coms has very little to do with the source material, and I read that Capote despised the adaptation. Now that I have read it, I can understand why he would be annoyed with it: it really isn’t the same story at all!
As much as I still enjoy the movie, I have to say that the book is so much better. In a little more than 100 pages, Capote wrote what just might be the most beautiful love story I have ever read. Everything in it is ambiguous. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure it even really is a love story, but you have to read it to understand (maybe not about love in the “kissing in the rain while Moon River plays in the background” kind of way, but there is love there nonetheless). The language and the wit are enough to make this story incredible. Add to that the most frustratingly enigmatic character that is Holly Golightly and a poignant ending that left me inexplicably sad…
It is a truly beautiful read, and I highly recommend it to everyone....more