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0778314391
| 9780778314394
| 0778314391
| 3.87
| 4,648
| Apr 30, 2013
| Apr 28, 2013
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did not like it
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Ana’s take: A Spear of Summer Grass starts really well and I loved the main character to start with. Delilah is a scandalous woman, an unrepentant, ego Ana’s take: A Spear of Summer Grass starts really well and I loved the main character to start with. Delilah is a scandalous woman, an unrepentant, egotistical, multiple-time divorced in the early 20s. After a recent scandal in Paris, she is exiled to Kenya until gossip dies out. Of course, this set-up is potentially problematic for two main reasons: One is that the story could turn into a redemption story because god forbid a female character be unlikable and not-nice. Two is that said redemption will happen because of the Exotic Journey to the Savage Yet Beautiful Africa. Unfortunately, it all happened exactly as I feared. My problems with the book started really soon as Delilah set herself up as the voice of modernity opposing her white neighbours in Kenya. That’s when the book just went all over the place. The novel is a messy mixture of anachronism and stereotyping. So we have Delilah, a white female character female who is modern and “different” – she is able to see her fellow white expats as privileged idiots, the treatment of local inhabitants as unfair. But by doing that she also sets herself up their White Saviour, completely idealizing colonialism: she treats the locals with her Expert White Nurse Training; she gives them food, she treats them fairly, she learns their language, etc. These are not necessarily bad things if it wasn’t for the way that the novel portrays all the POC characters as simple people, most of them in Communion With Nature; there is a Wise Man who actually communicates with spirits; and everybody is loyal and grateful to the Good White People. It is really important when reading historical novels like this to be able to differentiate between what can be construed as accurate portrayals of privilege, colonialism and racism within the novel itself and what is built on stereotypical portrayals that go unchallenged and therefore are perpetuated instead of questioned. It also doesn’t help that you have these two characters – Delilah and Ryder – talking about this ONE location, its peoples and its beauty as “Africa” as though Africa is not an entire freaking continent. And then we have the “romance”. This is twofold: the romance that happens between Delilah and Africa; and the one that “develops” between Delilah and the local hunter-stud-rich white man called Ryder White (no, seriously). Both serve to redeem the heroine and her “terrible ways”. She becomes less egotistical when she learns to care for others. Which: fair enough. BUT then it is revealed that she is not in fact the scandalous person she is supposed to be: no, everything is just how people have interpreted her actions wrongly. This could have served as great social commentary about how people view women socially accept it only reinforces those same traditional views by making Delilah “innocent”. The romance between Delilah and Ryder is also a no-go from me: it starts with him actually threatening to rape her and ends with her learning everything about him through third parties who help her decide to marry him because He Deserves Her Love. Or something equally disingenuous like that. I also felt really, REALLY uncomfortable about the way domestic abuse is portrayed in the novel. There is one character that is constantly abused and beaten up by her husband and the characters including Delilah, our heroine, and the wife herself are all into victim blaming: “I was only a little surprised Jude was still living with her husband after he had beaten her. I had known my share of women mistreated by their men. But they were all tormented creatures, with eyes like caged animals and a tightly wound intensity that burned them inside. Jude was different, cool as a mountain lake, and I suspected she stayed with Wickenden because his beatings couldn’t really touch her. Perhaps that was WHY he beat her. Some men can only stand to be ignored for so long before they have to do something about it.” The narrative itself does nothing at all do dispel this idea. Despite its promising beginning this turned out to be terrible – to be honest, I only kept reading because I couldn’t look away from the train wreck. Thea’s Take: It pains me to say this because I loved Deanna Raybourn’s Lady Julia Grey books, but I sadly, wholeheartedly agree with Ana. I was intrigued by the premise of this book, although that intrigue was tempered with fear – because, as Ana says, this is a book about a rich white woman going to Africa and becoming a Better Person and… well, that often spells disaster. First, let me start with the good: I loved the flawed prickly character of Delilah. I love that she is in control, that she doesn’t give a damn about what other people think (in fact, she thrives on scandal and loves herself a good time). Most of all, I loved how sexually comfortable Delilah is in her own skin – she knows her effect on men, and she uses her charms to get in her kicks. Similarly strong is Deanna Raybourn’s writing, which is as lovely as ever in this book, and she manages to create a group of interesting characters and we watch their lives unfold in a comfortable, natural way. That said, even these high points could not save A Spear of Summer Grass from its deeply problematic issues. My problems with this book are threefold: The Treatment of Women – which could have been AWESOME but turned into rape-y, wife-beating apologist crap The Treatment of “Africa” – exoticism and glorification of colonialism of the White Man The Treatment of the Indigenous Populations of Nairobi (and of ANY people of color for that matter) – the book imposes interesting/frightening situations of colonialism and white superiority, does not CHALLENGE these ideas at all So let’s start with women. In this book, there is one particular character who is beaten by her husband. This character doesn’t really CARE that she is beaten because, and I quote: “The hitting?” She rolled onto her back and stretched. “I feel sorry for him sometimes. He just doesn’t know any way to reach me. ” “He hits you and you feel sorry for him?” “He loves me more than he’s ever loved anything in his entire life,” she said, relating the words in her cool passionless voice. “All he wants is to touch me, to move something inside of me so that I will love him back [...] Haven’t you ever seen a small boy trying to get his mother’s attention? He’ll tug at her skirts and call her name, and if she ignores him, he’ll just get louder and louder, poking and pinching until she sees him.” NO. At a different part of the book, Delilah is teasing Ryder (SERIOUSLY HIS NAME IS RYDER. With the “y.”), thinking about getting hot and heavy. When she refuses him, he tells her: “You understand that we’re alone out here, don’t you, Delilah? There’s not a soul within screaming distance, nobody to hear you, nobody to help you. I could violate you sixty different ways and throw you out for the hyenas to have their way with before anybody ever noticed you were gone.” This turns Delilah on. Then, later in the book, Delilah is getting it on with Ryder and when he refuses to go the distance, this happens: “That’s it? That’s all I get? you’ll let me get you good and ready, but then you won’t use it to repay the favour? Naughty, naughty, Ryder. Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s not nice to be selfish?” His hands were clenching and unclenching on his thighs. “I don’t hit women,” he said, half to himself. “But you’d like to,” I went on, softly. “You’d like to put something into me, and if it isn’t going to be what we both want, why not your fist?” I ground out my cigarette on my boot and stood close to him. I picked up his hand, that closed, fisted hand, and I opened it, coaxing the fingers to spread wide. His palm was open and flat, vulnerable, and I pressed my mouth into it, nipping lightly with my teeth. AGAIN, NO. Rape-threatening and woman-beating is NOT hot. This is NOT an attractive trait in a hero (or heroine). Just, NO. Next, there’s the exoticism of “Africa” – in quotes because COME ON, it’s a CONTINENT not a SINGLE TOWN or country! A Spear of Summer Grass is the most crude, textbook example of exoticism of a place and its people. Africa – ALL of Africa! – is portrayed as a savage but beautiful land, lorded over and being saved by its white aristocratic colonists. These colonists must feed, cure, and educate the indigenous people (heck, even Delilah is a skilled nurse, in addition to being a party gal with deadeye sharpshooter skills). The different tribes are portrayed as ignorant, simple people of the land, ever so grateful for the white man’s help (because otherwise they’d surely perish). Even the non-African characters of color get this treatment – the Indian characters are similarly meek and simple-natured. The fact that Delilah and Ryder (and Jude to some extent) are the only characters that see this is BAD and fight for the rights of the poor, hapless people of color only reinforces this awful white savior stereotype. The only difference I have here compared to Ana? I could not bring myself to finish this book. It’s a big fat DNF for me. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Apr 10, 2013
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Apr 19, 2013
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Mar 14, 2013
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Paperback
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0765331969
| 9780765331960
| 0765331969
| 3.83
| 42,110
| Feb 05, 2013
| Feb 05, 2013
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liked it
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Originally reviewed on Kirkus' SFF Blog Be warned, then: the collected volumes of this series will contain frozen mountains, foetid swamps, hostile forOriginally reviewed on Kirkus' SFF Blog Be warned, then: the collected volumes of this series will contain frozen mountains, foetid swamps, hostile foreigners, hostile fellow countrymen, the occasional hostile family member, bad decisions, misadventures in orienteering, diseases of an unromantic sort, and a plentitude of mind. You continue at your own risk. It is not for the faint of heart–no more so than the study of dragons itself. At the age of seven, Lady Isabella Hendemore discovers a lifelong passion for natural science. Ever since her first discovery of the pint-sized sparklings that abound in her home’s gardens, Isabella has been enamored with dragons, and has devoured any books on the species she can find. There’s only one problem with Isabella’s passion for dissecting living creatures and her yearning for dragons: she is a Scirlandian noblewoman in a country where she is expected to marry and reproduce, not read scientific texts or travel to distant lands in search of majestic, dangerous beasts. Luckily, Isabella finds a husband and kindred spirit in baronet Jacob Camherst, who is similarly interested in the winged creatures (if not quite to the same degree). Thanks to her powers of persuasion, she’s able to convince Jacob to enlist in an expedition to the mountains of distant Vystrana to study rock-wyrm dragons–and she manages to get her new husband to agree to bring her along as the expedition’s secretary and artist. In these secluded, mist-shrouded hills, Lord and Lady Camherst discover dragons behaving strangely, attacking humans (a frightening reality they face firsthand upon arriving at the village of Drustanev). There’s a mystery involving foreign smugglers, cursed ruins, and an insidious plot to drive the expedition away–but logical, dauntless Isabella is ever ready and on the case. The latest novel from prolific fantasy author Marie Brennan, A Natural History of Dragons is an engaging and entertaining book (albeit one with some significant shortcomings–more on that in a bit). A blend of Elizabeth Peters’ formidable Amelia Peabody and a decidedly less-cuddly version of How to Train Your Dragon, this book (the first in a planned series) is mostly successful, thanks in large part to Brennan’s heroine. Narrated retrospectively by a much older Lady Isabella in memoir form, the novel’s strongest point is its witty voice and point of view. Isabella is perfectly candid and recounts her many misadventures in wryly humorous fashion–everything from her childhood dissection of a dove, to the Incident with the Wolf-Drake (a misguided adventure at the age of 14), to being captured by smugglers in the middle of the night in Drustanev whilst wearing nothing but her nightgown and robe. The novel’s plot is less focused and adventure-centric than you might expect; instead, A Natural History tends towards meandering and slow, a collection of Isabella’s early life from years 7 to 19, and her first tragic adventures. While, overall, Isabella’s narrative sparkles with wit and verve, there are some significant stumbling points. Isabella’s whole shtick is that she is a woman who yearns to be accepted by society as a Natural Historian and dragon scholar. For, even though this book is supposedly set in a fantasy world, Scirland is an exact analog of Victorian/Edwardian England–down to the peerage, the social mores, the societal expectations, and even the dress and vernacular. And, while Isabella yearns for acceptance, she’s gratingly imperialistic, dismissive and elitist in her thoughts. This becomes jarringly clear when Isabella meets her Vystrani maidservant for the first time, describing her thusly: She was tall and of that build we so politely call “strapping” and applaud when found in peasant folk, with strong features and a wealth of dark hair. And later: If I was going to have a ham-handed Vystrani woman doing up my buttons, at least it would be the ham-handed woman I knew, rather than a stranger. What’s more, the Vystrani village people are portrayed as superstitious, uneducated peasant heathens by Isabella. Which brings me to a very significant problem–to me, personally–when it comes to A Natural History of Dragons. For all that the novel is set in a fantasy world with dragons, it seems to glorify a very real period in human history in which British Lords went to the African continent to hunt lions and elephants, and British might and imperialist views of the world dominated.[1] And, while that is a valid romantic approach that certainly is a popular literary staple (increasingly so in the speculative fiction space), I can’t help but feel slightly appalled at the ghoulish murder of dragons, the treatment of women, and the condescending elitist mindset of the book. The biggest question mark is the choice to set this novel in a fantasy world at all–in fantasy, you can create a world with entirely new rules, histories, and structures. So why set this novel in the fictional land of “Scirland” when it is for all intents and purposes turn-of-the-20th-century England? The fact that Isabella’s views (i.e., the superstitious peasants, the importance of good breeding, etc.) aren’t challenged is even more problematic in this light.[2] I fail to see the point of rehashing these same backwards views in a novel that does nothing to challenge those views–instead of provoking a larger conversation about these attitudes, A Natural History of Dragons seems to idealize the period. And THAT is a problem. Of course, the biggest problem when it comes to A Natural History of Dragons is the lack of actual dragons! The book comprises the narrated memoirs of Lady Isabella Trent as she grows up, and not so much any direct observance of or interaction with the eponymous beasts (and the only ones that Isabella comes across, she or her party try to kill–not for trophies, mind you, but for science). Ultimately, I enjoyed the style of the book and Brennan’s skillful character narration–but by the same token, the lack of dragons and the perpetuated, dated attitudes of the book are problematic. As this is the first book in a planned series, I hope that Lady Isabella’s worldview (and attitude towards the creatures she so loves) grows in future books. In Book Smugglerish, a tentative 6 sparklings out of 10. Thea James and Ana Grilo are The Book Smugglers, a website for speculative fiction and YA. You can find also find them at Twitter. [1] I bring up the hunting of lions and elephants, because Isabella has no problem in killing the dragons she so loves, for the good of science, claiming: “Yes, we shot a dragon. I find it fascinating that so many people take exception to this [...] They certainly have not spent days among Vystrani shepherds, for whom dragons are neither sacred nor even likeable, but rather troublesome predators who all too often make off with the shepherds’ livelihood in their jaws.” This rationale, I’d wager, will rub plenty of modern readers the wrong way. [2] If Isabella was a British noblewoman in late 1800s on an expedition to, say, Egypt and extolled the same views, this would be lamentable, but would make sense in context for the time period. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 14, 2013
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not set
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Feb 14, 2013
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Hardcover
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0316068683
| 9780316068680
| 0316068683
| 3.64
| 20,360
| Jun 07, 2010
| Jun 07, 2010
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did not like it
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Originally reviewed on The Book Smugglers back in 2010 (a few months later this review caused a shitstorm online and you can read about it here). Ana’ Originally reviewed on The Book Smugglers back in 2010 (a few months later this review caused a shitstorm online and you can read about it here). Ana’s take: Listen. I could tell you that for the first pages of this book I was completely engrossed in the story. How could I not? I mean, a dark, violent even, retelling of Red Riding Hood in which two sisters are the hunters who kill the wolves? I am in. It helps that the first pages were very gripping: back in the past when the kids lived with their grandmother and were attacked by a passing werewolf and Scarlett, the oldest sister, protects the younger Rosie almost to her own death losing an eye in the fight and becoming scarred for life. Then, as teenagers they fall in the roles that they have taken for themselves that day: Scarlett, the protector, Rosie the protégée – both equally fierce Hunters but with a striking difference. Scarlett sees nothing but the hunt, Rosie wants something else for her life. I could tell you that I like the prose. But also that the tale and the alternating chapters between the two sisters get repetitive very soon. I could tell you that when the next door neighbour, a woodsman-hunter named Silas comes back to town that I knew Rosie would fall for him and that their story was actually quite sweet. I could definitely tell you that part of what makes me like the book to begin with is the fact that making the two girls the ones who go after the werewolves to kill them is rather an empowering take on the original tale. I could tell you all that. But what I really want to tell you is: when I hit page 108 (of the ARC) I went nuts. You see, it is part of this retelling that the werewolves are predators who are after young, pretty girls. As part of their hunting routine, Rosie will dress up, put on make-up and perfume (because she usually doesn’t do that as she is a “natural beauty”). Obviously, Scarlett, being the ugly, scarred sister, just sits back to attack when Rosie has played the role of prey. So, page 108. Scarlett is outside a nightclub observing the girls in the queue to get in: "They’re adorned in glittery green rhinestones, shimmery turquoise and aquamarine powders streaked across their eyelids. Dragonfly girls. Their hair is all the same, long and streaked, spiralling down their backs to where the tiny strings holding their tops on are knotted tightly. Their skin glows under the neon lights – amber, ebony, cream – like shined metal, flawless and smooth. I press harder against the crumbly brick wall behind me, tugging my crimson cloak closer to my body. The scars on my shoulders show through fabric when I pull the cloak tight. Bumpy red hills in perfectly spaced lines. The Dragonflies laugh, sweet, and bubbly, and I groan in exasperation. They toss their hair, stretch their legs, sway their hips, bat their eyes at the club’s bouncer, everything about them luring the Fenris. Inviting danger like some baby animal bleating its fool head off. Look at me, see how I dance, did you notice my hair, look again, desire me, I am perfect. Stupid, stupid Dragonflies. Here I am, saving your lives, bitten and scarred and wounded for you, and you don’t even know it. I should let the Fenris have one of you. No, I didn’t mean that. I sigh and walk to the other side of the brick wall, letting my fingers tangle in the thick ivy. It’s dark on this side, shadowed from the neon lights of the street. I breathe slowly, watching the tree limbs sway, backlit by the lights of skyscrapers. Of course I didn’t mean it. Ignorance is no reason to die. They can’t help what they are, still happily unaware inside a cave of fake shadows. They exist in a world that’s beautiful normal, where people have jobs and dreams that don’t involve a hatcher. My world is parallel universe to their – the same sights, same people, same city, yet the Fenris lurk, the evil creeps, the knowledge undeniably exists. If I hadn’t been thrown into this world, I could just as easily have been a Dragonfly." I felt extremely uncomfortable with this passage, but as much as this is some serious twisted thinking, I can understand Scarlett feeling this way. She is an angry character, full of regret, jealousy – and being scarred and ugly does get to her (seeing as how she keeps going on and on about it). So, the text above is in keeping with this character. BUT Two lines down and Silas joins her as she observes him: " His eyes narrow in something between disgust and intrigue, as though he’s not certain if he likes looking at them or not. I want to comment, but I stay quiet. Somehow it feels important to wait for his reaction. Silas finally turns to look at me in the shadows. “It’s like they’re trying to be eaten, isn’t it? he asks pointedly. “Can I tell you how glad I am that and Rosie aren’t like them?” “No kidding.” I grin, relieved. “Rosie could be if she wanted, though. She’s beautiful like they are.” “Beauty has nothing to do with it. Rosie could never be one of them. Do you really think they’d dress and act like that if they knew it was drawing wolves toward them?”" No. NO. NO. NO. NO. JUST NO. By then, I was beyond uncomfortable, I was downright angry. The meta is thus: the girls should know better. If they knew better, they would change their behaviour and would not be attacked. This is what I read. But this is not what I should be reading. NEVER, EVER blame the victims. The blame always, always lies with the criminal (or predator). And just like that I am done with the book. Because I can’t respect the characters who think like this, because I lost respect for their motivation for being hunters (it’s not about REALLY about protecting the girls is it? It is almost about proving a point) and if I can’t relate with their plight then the book is nothing to me. Because the bottom line is this: the book empowers women yes, but ONLY certain types of girls, not all of them. And I am sick and tired of books that associate girls that are self-confident and beautiful with being shallow and superficial and deserving of bad things happening to them. SICK AND TIRED. That is not ok. I did read till the bitter end in the hopes that another character would come in and say: “yo, stewpid, GET A GRIP” but alas, no such thing has happened. I can’t even be bothered to rate this book. I will only say: FAIL Thea’s Take: Clearly, Ana feels VERY strongly about this book, especially about the excerpt above. Now, I’ll admit that when I first read this passage, I didn’t immediately see what Ana picked up on. I tend to get annoyed with flitty girls in general, and Scarlett’s anger at the “dragonflies” seems well-founded and in line with her character, regardless of whether I liked her character or not. As a scarred, bitter young woman dedicated to destroying all Fenris at any cost, this sort of thought process makes perfect sense for someone like Scarlett. But then, after Ana pointed out the next section, it made me think about the overall message…and I stand firmly with Ana. Enraged. Just because a girl is pretty, and likes to look pretty; just because a girl goes out to the club in revealing clothes; just because a girl likes the attention that comes with being young and attractive, this DOES NOT MEAN she is stupid, or a whore, or fucking “asking for it” (pardon my French, but this is a disgusting mindset and pisses me off to no end). It is frustrating – no, infuriating – beyond belief that the women in Sisters Red are so stereotyped and marginalized. Don’t get me wrong – I love warrior women/strong women/badass fighter women, as much as the next person. But this gross generalization that girls that go out to have fun and be noticed are somehow billions of times inferior to their too-tough-to-look-pretty (but OF COURSE are effortlessly gorgeous *eyes rolling*) counterparts? Nu-uh. Not cool. Now, you might be telling yourself, ‘well, these two seem to be taking a single passage a bit far’ or something to that end. Well, folks, unfortunately Sisters Red has a whole lot of other problems too. 1: The characters are mind-numbingly repetitive and boring. Initially, I found a lot to like with Sisters Red. The opening scene with Grandma valiantly holding off the big bad wolf to save the children, and then Scarlett’s desperate last stand to save Rosie, is EPIC. I loved that Scarlett is abrasive and tough, that she’s missing an eye and is both terrified of the wolves, yet completely in love with the hunt. I love that Rosie is a different person – that she cannot remember the past too clearly, and that she clearly loves Lett, but needs to grow to be her own person. BUT. All of this? All this promising characterization is exhausted in the first thirty or so pages of the book. From then on it is more of. the. same. Scarlett gets mad at Rosie for being careless. Scarlett goes hunting for Fenris. Scarlett gets mad again and wallows in her pit of eternal self-suffering. Meanwhile, Rosie wants to be taken seriously (and thinks Silas is freaking HAWT). But she wants to be taken seriously. She tries to make peace with Scarlett (and Silas is HAWT). And so on and so forth. Things get pretty dull, pretty quickly. These characters never felt real to me – more like your standard cardboard stand-ins. (Just because characters are “troubled” doesn’t immediately mean they are well-developed. SHOW me. Don’t keep TELLING me.) 2: The “Romance” is the same predictable uninspired tripe. From the second Rosie sees Silas, and vice versa, it’s all “he looks different, his jaw is so angular and manly!” and “she looks different, all ‘grown up’ and beautiful!” (I’m paraphrasing of course). To be honest, I’m sick of it. Could this book just have been about the sisters without one of them needing the catalyst of falling in love with the studly boy next door? ARGH. Of course, this could just be me and how burned out I am with YA paranormal romance. Lots of people love this stuff. I, unfortunately, am at the end of my rope. 3: The hunting element of the story is STUPID. *Caps lock engaged* WHY THE HELL WOULD THESE SISTERS BE HUNTING WITH HATCHETS AS OPPOSED TO…I don’t know…GUNS?!??? If Scarlett’s true ambition is to take out every single “Fenris” on the planet, wouldn’t it make sense to take out a bunch of them with a semi-automatic weapon, as opposed to the good ol’ woodsman hatchet technique? And while scampering around in a blood red cloak is awesome and all, this book doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The story takes place in MODERN DAY. The red riding hood cloaks, while they go great with the idea of the story, aren’t exactly…congruous with the time period. (Not to mention, you’d think the stupid wolves would remember two chicks – one with an eyepatch – hunting around not-so-incognito in bright red cloaks) Also, in my opinion the term “Fenris” is stupid. Is it plural? Singular? Yeah, yeah, I get that it derives from Fenrir – but “Fenris” just looks stupid and forced to me. If you’re going with Norse mythology, stick with the root name. (That is, if you’re not going with the more familiar “werewolf” terminology, which doesn’t make sense in the first place given how much more prevalent “werewolf” is in modern vernacular!) These were my issues with Sisters Red – which arose long before the club scene – and they were enough to make me put down the book. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 12, 2013
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not set
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Feb 12, 2013
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Hardcover
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4.14
| 3,288,950
| May 24, 2012
| May 24, 2012
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it was ok
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**WARNING: THIS REVIEW CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, CAPS LOCK OF RAGE, AND OCCASIONAL SPOILERS (we will let you know when spoilers kick in). You have b
**WARNING: THIS REVIEW CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, CAPS LOCK OF RAGE, AND OCCASIONAL SPOILERS (we will let you know when spoilers kick in). You have been warned.** Thea’s Take: (There will be spoilers, but I’ll give you warning when they kick in.) I started Gone Girl knowing only these things. Gone Girl is: A. One of the bestselling books of 2012, recipient of multiple awards from critics and readers alike, across genres and categories. B. Gillian Flynn’s latest novel, with a rumored HUGE twist somewhere in its 500 pages. C. Supposedly contains a razor-wire plot, and is some kind of examination of perfection, marriage, and murder in small town, Missouri. I finished the book in less than 24 hours, compulsively turning page after page, needing to know what would happen next, who to trust, how it would all end. And, at the end, I can add one more thing to the list of things I know about this book: D. A brilliantly written and plotted mystery, a miasma of wretchedness and hate; a book that I devoured but deeply, utterly abhorred. I will try to do this as spoiler-free as possible. Gone Girl is the alternating point-of-view, semi-epistolary novel that tells two stories about Nick and Amy. In the first story, Amy met Nick in 2005 and falls in love with him. They get married. It is blissful. Amy is the Best Possible Wife, she’s funny, and smart, and beautiful, and RICH. Things start to go sour, however, when Nick loses his job, and then Amy loses her job and her money, and they move to Nick’s small hometown of Middle of Nowhere, MO, to take care of Nick’s dying mother (cancer) and father (Alzheimer’s). Amy is attentive. She is supportive. She still loves the idea of her husband, though she knows things are falling apart. Nick becomes abusive, hateful, hurtful. And then Amy disappears – just, gone without a trace. In this first story, Nick is Amy’s foil and tells his version of events, after Amy’s disappearance. In his narrative, Amy is brilliant and beautiful, but also controlling, resentful, and hateful. Their marriage is a sham. Amy’s disappearance puts Nick in the crosshairs of the police as the killer – and as the days after Amy’s disappearance pass, the evidence against Nick mounts. And then there’s the second story – and therein lie spoilers. Because everything we think we know about Amy and Nick? It’s wrong. Amy is not who we think she is, and Nick is…well, ok Nick is still douchetastically pathetic. In this second story, we learn more about this toxic couple from hell, and the pit of spite and grief that is their marriage. Like the novel’s dual plot, I’m of two minds when it comes to Gone Girl. On the one side, I can appreciate Gillian Flynn’s skill as a writer. She creates two (ok, three) characters that are completely distinct, and she alternates these points of view with incredible deftness and ease, building a complex narrative – a complex crime – that is deeply disturbing but brilliantly executed. The big “twist” is perhaps not such a twist (you kind of expect it, or you at least know that something is going to happen, that you aren’t playing with a full deck of cards), but it’s done really, really well. The first part of the book makes you question what you know about these characters, their lives and their secrets. Everyone is unreliable, everything is questionable. This is all really fucking good. But then, there’s the other side of Gone Girl: the badness, the utter RIDICULOUSNESS of certain developments, the hate that pervades the novel to its rotten-apple core. This, I did not like. I detested the characters, from the unparalleled pathetic misogynistic doucheparade that is Nick to the many different iterations of the “brilliant” Amy. I hated the way the story develops in the second part of the book, and I especially hated the way that it ends. I hated the pointlessness of the story – why does it need to be told? What does it accomplish? What does it say about us, as people? And here come the **SPOILERS** because certain things need to be SAID: Nick. I can’t really waste too much space on Nick, because he is wholly and utterly pathetic. He whines, he pretends, he is so full of incompetence and ennui and self-important horseshit. He lost his job because TEH INTERWEBS ARE EVIL. No, seriously, he’s unemployed because *whines* people don’t read REAL magazines anymore and the BLOGS are killing everything and these HACKS are destroying the printed word and he’s a REAL JOURNALIST and goddammit he’s someone IMPORTANT and why can’t anyone else understand that? He’s GORGEOUS and all the women want to jump on his disco stick, and Nick hates them all for it – women are just things to him. They are cunts, or psycho bitches, or trying too hard (these are all Nick’s words, of course). He wants to be a MAN and Amy – brilliant, beautiful, spoiled, vindictive, Amy – has stolen that from him. And then, that psycho bitch Amy fucks with Nick’s life, and Nick has to figure out how to prove his innocence because all of a sudden NICK IS THE GOOD GUY. Which brings me to Amy. It turns out that Amy is not the eager to please doormat that she presents herself as in the first part of the book. No, she is an honest to goodness sociopath that has elaborately planned and framed her cheating pathetic loser of a husband for her death. It’s not the first time, either! She’s ruined female friends, and men that have DARED to cross her/make her unhappy (by claiming RAPE, or that people are obsessed with her, and so on and so forth). Amy is brilliant and vindictive, cruel and efficient in her mastermind scheme to bring Nick DOWN. As sick as it is, I actually liked the first twist: Amy’s edge, revealed in the second part of the book, when we find out Amy is alive and that everything she’s written in the first part of the book is a lie. But then, everything starts to unravel and Amy is made out to be not only a people-hating manipulating sociopath, but a completely incompetent one, to boot – she is suckered into a relationship with her neighbors while she’s in hiding and is robbed for all her money (she only lasts for 9 days before she’s robbed! COME ON!). She BELIEVES Nick when he goes on TV and earnestly pleads for his wife to come home, so she does it just like that. Are you fucking kidding me? THESE are the actions of the same methodical, patient mind that came up with this elaborate revenge scheme against her husband? I repeat: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? She then fucks, and kills, and makes her way back into her husband’s life. She then TRAPS her husband into silence and complacence with a Miracle Baby (it’s a BOY of course!) and that makes Nick stay with her forever and always. And that is the end of Gone Girl. There are plenty of other problems, too, but Ana has covered them all, below. Frankly, I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to waste any more time or thought on this novel. I’m done writing now. Ana’s Take: (SPOILERS AHOY) Gone Girl is one of the most ridiculous books I have ever read, one that comes with an inordinate amount of hype and disguised as a “clever”, “dark”, twisterific thriller that supposedly deals with serious shit like “when a marriage go bad”. It follows the story of Nick and Amy’s marriage. It opens on the day of their fifth anniversary, the day when Amy goes missing. Soon – as these things go – the investigators start to focus on the husband. But is Nick guilty? Did he really kill his wife? If not, what happened to Amy? It’s divided in three parts and in part one, the narrative alternates between Nick’s first person narrative as he deals with Amy’s disappearance and Amy’s journal. As the plot progresses, their story is slowly revealed to the reader: Amy is a WEALTHY, BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL, COOL New Yorker whose parents write the Amazing Amy children stories. Nick is a BRILLIANT, HANDSOME journalist writing about pop culture for a magazine. Until Nick lost his job (because the INTERNET IS EVIL), Amy lost hers, and they need to move to Nick’s hometown in Missouri to take care of his sick mother. Their marriage was already shaky but it’s in Missouri that things start to really fall part between them. This part of the story is basically about Privileged White People’s Problems and both come across as entitled WANKERS – especially the aloof man-child Nick who, once his marriage starts to fall apart and money problems hit them, cheats on his wife with a much younger girl (his student). It would be a very familiar and trite story except for the fact that Amy’s journal entries start to show a different side of Nick: one that is increasingly abusive and scary. All of a sudden and in spite of Nick’s protestations, it is obvious that he is hiding something and he might after all, be guilty. Then comes part 2 and the twist: Amy knew that Nick had been cheating on her and for the past year she created this elaborate plan to disappear and frame Nick for her “killing” as vengeance. As such, her diaries entries are all faked concoctions. It becomes clear then that Amy is really, a psychopath. Parts two and three deal with Amy’s attempted revenge, Nick’s realisation of how far his wife really will go, all leading to the eventual showdown between them as Nick wants her back so he can clear his name and maybe kill her or something equally unpleasant. Gone Girl almost had me there for a while – I can vouch for how incredibly readable and engaging it is. I could not put it down and I had to find out what was going to happen to these people. I also thought that structurally speaking – with the alternating unreliable narratives – the novel was competent. It was also a success in the way that it portrayed its two deeply unpleasant, unlikeable main characters. The reader is supposed to despise these people, and loathe them I certainly did although it made for a fucking unpleasant reading experience. Plus, really, these types of “dark” characters BORE ME TO DEATH. But ok fine, this is a very personal reaction. The thing is: because the two narratives don’t exactly fit together in part one, it is obvious that at least one of them is an unreliable narrator, possibly the two. And if a reader is used to reading epistolary novels, unreliable narrators and thrillers, it is easy to know that a twist is coming. Considering all this, is the main twist even that surprising? That said, this is not my main point of contention with the novel. The recurring themes are what give me pause for thought. It is possible to argue that the one of the main themes of Gone Girl is its thoughtful examination of marriage difficulties; or to question how well two people can really know each other or allow the other to know you and, unfair expectations. The problem is: the novel cannot possibly be indicative of all marriages or a heartfelt exploration of this theme because NOT EVERYBODY IS A VINDICTIVE PSYCHOPATH OR A WHINNY MAN-CHILD WITH SOCIOPATHIC TENDENCIES. Unless you know, you want argue that one can never know who one has married because maybe, just maybe your husband/wife is planning RIGHT NOW to fake-kill themselves and frame you because you didn’t wash the dishes after dinner that one time. SO you know, BE CAREFUL. This means that the book only really works on its own microcosm of darkness. Another recurring theme throughout is the question of misogyny. Nick’s father is a deeply misogynistic character and Nick hates his father and lives under the constant fear that he too, might be misogynistic. This is really interesting in the way that it explores the difficulty in getting away from one’s upbringing. Amy on the other hand, is presented as a (kind of) feminist with her astute observations about social gender constructs by constantly calling on the bullshit of unfair social expectations around her gender. So on a cursory glance one could argue that the book is feminist. I’d argue against that. WHOLEHEARTEDLY. What else could I argue when the only obvious feminist character turns out to be a psychopath who HATES EVERY OTHER WOMAN she knows, lies about having being raped, about being stalked and eventually “traps” her husband by becoming pregnant. When the entire story is eventually contrived to show Amy as the True Villain and Nick as the one Nice Guy (despite his aloofness, his cheating, his lies and his manipulative strike) who is not REALLY a misogynist because he doesn’t hate ALL FUCKING BITCHES, he only hates his PSYCHO BITCH wife (his choice of words, not mine, by the way). He is also the one who in the end, needs to contain the psycho bitch by staying with her and helping her bringing up their child. So then all of a sudden this passive-aggressive, liar, stunted, cheater is the HERO? HAHAHA: NO. And you could argue that these PEOPLE ARE HORRID and so of course, it all makes sense. But the NARRATIVE SUPPORTS ALL THIS SHITNESS by presenting every other woman in this novel as HORRIBLE PEOPLE TOO, without nuance. Well, apart from the two obviously good characters who are sympathetic TOWARD NICK: there is this one female cop who just “knows” he must be innocent and his own twin sister who is DUH OBVIOUSLY, so perfect and of course unlike any other woman. Plus, the one guy that Amy has accused of rape turns out to be innocent because really, he is just a Nice Guy and we all know that only ALPHA GUYS are rapists. Nice Guys are NEVER RAPISTS. EVER. HAHAHA: NO. Not to mention that the book COMPLETELY lacks internal logic. The one main thread of the book, the one point that is laboriously written through the first two parts is how Amy is incredibly smart and brilliant. She has to be, in order to manipulate, concoct and maintain all the plans she has over the course of her short life. But then get this, right? Nick concocts his own plan to make Amy change her mind and come back. And his plan consists of appearing live on TV and saying that he forgives her, that he understands who she really is and he loves her anyway. That’s his plan. AND IT WORKS. Amy – psychopath, brilliant Amy – has a change of heart almost as immediately as she watches his interview. And that’s because according to Nick, Amy lacks a “bullshit detector”. BUT the first half of the book was all about setting up and making sure we understood how much of a bullshit detector Amy actually had. So which one is it? Either she is a brilliant psychopath or a gullible idiot. SHE CAN NOT BE BOTH, BOOK. And I am going to nitpick too: Nick is in his early thirties buy he sounds fucking ancient. Like the whole whinny “the internet killed my career” thing when he is at the right age to actually know how to take advantage of the Internet? Please. In summation: I devoured Gone Girl but I fucking hated it. ...more |
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Feb 02, 2013
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Feb 02, 2013
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Hardcover
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0670061344
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| 4.04
| 7,788
| Oct 19, 2006
| Oct 19, 2006
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liked it
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In 1943, 11-year-old Dewey is on her way to spend some time with her mathematician father after her grandmother suffers a stroke and can no longer tak
In 1943, 11-year-old Dewey is on her way to spend some time with her mathematician father after her grandmother suffers a stroke and can no longer take care of her. Her father has been absent since the beginning of the War and now lives at Los Alamos, working on a secret project which is only referred to as “the gadget” throughout the book. The Gadget is of course, the atomic bomb and Los Alamos is the secret location of the Manhattan Project. There, Dewey is left mostly to her own devices – quite literally too, since Dewey has a love for all things mechanical and loves inventing new things. But life is not particularly easy because most of the other kids (especially the girls) want nothing to do with Dewey. At the same time, her classmate Suze is equally shunned for her (large-ish) size – and the two girls end up becoming friends. I recently read and had my mind blown away by a short story written by Ellen Klages in the Under My Hat anthology which promptly made me want to read another story from her. I did a bit of research and came across The Green Glass Sea, an award-winning historical novel featuring Girls! Science! The Atomic Bomb! and how could I NOT want to read this? Really. There is a lot to admire here and a lot that is downright cool about it. I mean, Dewey is friends with Richard freaking Feynman and calls J. Robert Oppenheimer, Oppie. And it’s like, HERE girls, you can have the Physics Dream Team playing just outside your door. Similarly, it is great to see the two girls finding out their interests in life are ok, even if they are girls – one is an artist, the other an inventor, both extremely creative. The book also shows how incredibly important role models are to children and in that sense, the relationship between Suze’s mother – a chemist working on the project – and Dewey is great because of their shared interest in scientific pursuits. Another thing that the book does really well is to show that historical moment when most people believed that the bomb was absolutely necessary to finish the war with Japan (Historians think it wasn’t) as well as the scientists’ working on the project increasing hesitation about using the bomb. That said, I had two major problems with the novel. Problem numero uno: really, how freaking tragic can you get? Dewey has had a terrible time – first of all, her mother was a drunk who dropped her downstairs when she was a baby resulting on one slightly shorter, weaker leg. Her father is away all the time, her grandmother has a stroke and THEN as soon as life is starting to look up, her father dies in a car crash leaving Dewey orphaned and the latter chapters of the book are tense with a grieving Dewey believing she was all alone in the world. Ok fine, yes: tragedy happens and it’s cool that this book doesn’t shy away from it. But this to me just feels like a very old-fashioned MG in which main characters must suffer unspeakable contrived tragedies in order to grow and Learn About Life. Or something. Not to mention that the characters are stuck in this personal tragedy and this effectively overshadows the tragedy of the atomic bombings. In fairness though, the focus here is the personal and from the perspective of children. Problem numero dos: As much as I loved her, it is clear that Dewey( and to some extent Suze too ) is an excepto- girl (TM Jodie): she is an exceptional girl who excel at something (science) that is not traditionally feminine (especially at the time) and who is elevated above all the other girls in the novel who all end up being villains described as girly-girls. Something that made me really uneasy about the novel is how any signs of traditional femininity are portrayed negatively. All three “heroines” of the novel and the ones we are supposed to relate to and root for because they are better – Dewey, Suze and Suze’s mother – and are described as either ugly or big and there is one particular point made about how Suze’s mother doesn’t wear make-up or jewellery. Dewey and Suze even make a point of saying that no girls are allowed in their club. The problem isn’t as much with the perception the girls have of themselves or even with the fact they are not what is perceived as traditionally feminine but with the fact that girls are every other female character in the novel – often beautiful, with their “girl-voices”, interested in boys and who do not share the same (portrayed as better) interests as our main characters – and who are all villains and bullies. I love reading stories about girls who doesn’t conform to a certain idea of femininity but not to the expense of all others. Unfortunately then, I was a bit disappointed with The Green Glass Sea. ...more |
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Jan 10, 2013
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Jan 10, 2013
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