The book: Champion (Legend #3)
The author: Marie Lu
The rating: 3.5 stars
"Billions of people will come and go in this world," he says softly, "but there will never be another like you."
So, here we are. The end of an era, the conclusion of a trilogy, the final page in the story of Day and June. I chose that epigraph with a touch of irony; as has been the problem for the entire series, my biggest issue with Champion is that there will always be plenty more like it. It's not that I'm expecting the Earth and the stars, but in every novel, I hope to find something fresh. A unique idea. A unique voice. A twist. A spark. Champion and the Legend series as a whole are everything you expect from the dystopian genre; they follow all the steps, but they're missing the breath of life to take them from cookie-cutter story to true adventure.
More so than either of its predecessors, Champion feels like it is just going through the motions. I was constantly struck by how little had happened in such a large number of pages; the premise may be the invasion of the Republic, but aside from that frame, there is little-to-no plot. We get to visit another country in Lu's futuristic world, Antarctic, itself replete with a ridiculous government system heavy-handedly engineered to give readers their daily dose of Diet Theme. We see the continuation of Day's soap-opera storyline, and... I'm at a loss to list much else that happened until we reach the 3/4 mark. June goes to a senate meeting. We spend copious amounts of time in a hospital setting. There's a sex scene. I'm actually kind of impressed by how much space Lu manages to fill with so little. The plot coasts off the events of the previous two books; there's no wild adventures, no intriguing ideas, no exciting premises. Lu's just killing time until we get to the conclusion.
The conclusion. Based upon what I've written thus far, it seems a bit weird for me to be giving the novel a higher rating than Prodigy. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about the conclusion, but it's Champion's saving grace. It's fresh. It's well-written. More happens in the epilogue than in the novel's entirety. For once, Lu brings something fresh to the table, something beyond the cliched happy ever after or textbook bittersweet ending. Upon inspection, the ending did have some considerable flaws: I'm not a neuroscientist, but I don't think people work that way; that relocation seems to go against our daily theme injection; does the future-Internet magically disappear or something? These sort of flaws don't bother me much, though. This may seem hard to believe, especially considering the ratings I've been doling out, but I'm not really a harsh critic. If a book's enjoyable, so what if there are a few plot holes along the way? It's a story, an adventure; if you're too caught up in the hard science of it, you're not going to enjoy the ride.
While Champion was not all that it could have been, the ending was. It was distinct, mature... it had that sense of both realism and magic that had enchanted me in Legend but had been missing from the series since. Plus, Day gets a haircut; it's everything I'd wanted all along. I'm not sure if I'll be willing to pick up any of Lu's future efforts, but all in all I'm glad to have taken the chance on the Legend series.
Monday, 10 February 2014
Monday, 3 February 2014
6. Heart and Soul
The book: Infinite (Newsoul #3)
The author: Jodi Meadows
The rating: 4 stars
Infinite marks the conclusion to the Newsoul trilogy, bringing the adventures of Ana and Sam that began in Incarnate and Asunder to a perhaps rocky conclusion, but we'll get to that later. I don't typically spend much of my reviews going over plot summary (that's why they put a blurb on the back, isn't it?) but considering that Infinite is a series conclusion, it seems wise to make an exception to that rule.
The land of Range is plagued by all sorts of mythical beasts: dragons roam the north, spewing acid and wreaking havoc; sylphs dance in the shadows, their lightest touch a burn; rocs dive from the skies; centaurs roam the forests; trolls lumber along ragged paths; phoenixes reincarnate, shedding their past selves in rebirth. And in this wild, mystical land, there is a glistening, white-stone city of a million human souls: Heart. For five millennia, the people of Heart have reincarnated like phoenixes; when they die, their souls are soon born again and they continue their lives' adventures. Sometimes they're tall, sometimes short, sometimes dark, sometimes fair, sometimes female, sometimes male, but there's always another life. Everything is constant. That is, until Ana. The citizens of Heart had been expecting Ciana's rebirth, but instead of their old friend, their soul scanners fail to find a match. The baby is a newsoul, or, as many call her, a nosoul.
Throughout Incarnate and Asunder, we follow the newsoul, Ana, in her coming-of-age story, unraveling the mysteries that led to her birth. She is hated by many, considered a precursor to more nosouls replacing oldsouls; fear of ending up like Ciana leads Ana to be shunned by society, raised by Li, an abusive, vitriolic mother in the countryside surrounding Range, banned from ever entering the glistening city of Heart. At the beginning of Incarnate, Li gives Ana a faulty compass and sends her off on her quest to find her way in the world, hoping she'll become hopelessly lost and die. However, after a run-in with wild sylph that ends with Ana almost drowning in a lake, she is rescued by a boy named Sam, someone who, over the course of the series, manages to convince Ana that she is not a nosoul, but a newsoul.
Two paragraphs of plot summary already, and I don't think I'm even out of chapter four of the first novel... see, there's a reason why I don't do this often. Throughout the series, Ana struggles to find answers to the mystery surrounding her birth - why was she born instead of Ciana? Will she reincarnate? As her mystery begins to unravel, we discover that reincarnation is caused by a being called Janan, someone who many consider to be a god, but who actually is tied to the truth of what really happened five millennia ago. I don't want to get too into the overall plot so as not to spoil the series; truly, the premise is the most delightful part, and I would hate to ruin it for a prospective reader.
Now, onto my views of Infinite. As I mentioned, the premise of this series is one of my all-time favourites. The writing can be a bit threadbare at times, but Meadows' unique and well-executed concept more than compensates; the world of Range is terrifying, magical... filled with echoes of ideas all dreamers must have dreamed about. I know they're thoughts I've had before, at least. Would it be ethical to be immortal, seeing as immortality would only be practical if nobody else could be born? It's this type of lofty question that Infinite addresses, but in nowhere near the clunky way with which novels like Prodigy handle their themes. Meadows takes an intriguing question and builds a remarkable, breathtaking world around it; her message is intrinsically tied to the horrible splendour of her world, never tacked on. Furthermore, her view is never forced down the reader's throat; both the bad and the good are explored, as are the bad and good in human nature, ultimately leaving the reader to decide their own verdict. There are some potential readings of the work that might suggest Meadows is making a more forceful societal commentary... some choice lines in particular might allude to the novel taking a stance on the abortion debate, but the door of ambiguity is left open for the reader to interpret the author's true intentions.
Adding to the wonderful world and plot is the mystery with which the tale is imbued. The reader is unraveling the terrible secrets of the ancient past along with Ana and her oldsoul friends, and that mystique definitely keeps the pacing steady and the reader engaged. The romance is a little less enthralling... Ana and Sam make a wonderful, musical couple, but when the pacing falters, it's the romantic side of Infinite that is usually to blame.
I did promise to get back to my comment about the trilogy's rocky conclusion, and I suppose I'm running out of time to do so. I immensely enjoyed the first 70% or so of Infinite, but by the time our supporting characters start dropping like flies and we reach what is supposedly the climax, Infinite seems to stumble a bit, losing its polished, pensive sheen. Obviously everything can't go according to plan (since when in fiction has the big plan ever gone off without a hitch?) but the last minute mood shift screamed Deus Ex Machina, coupled with a second twist I think it's safe to say every reader would have seen coming (as soon as we're told Deborl has sent warriors away to find something, there was only one thing it could have been). The end of the end perked back up, though... hopefully it's not too much of a spoiler to say that amongst all the Pyrrhic victories in fiction today, it's nice to get a truly happy ending.
The author: Jodi Meadows
The rating: 4 stars
Infinite marks the conclusion to the Newsoul trilogy, bringing the adventures of Ana and Sam that began in Incarnate and Asunder to a perhaps rocky conclusion, but we'll get to that later. I don't typically spend much of my reviews going over plot summary (that's why they put a blurb on the back, isn't it?) but considering that Infinite is a series conclusion, it seems wise to make an exception to that rule.
The land of Range is plagued by all sorts of mythical beasts: dragons roam the north, spewing acid and wreaking havoc; sylphs dance in the shadows, their lightest touch a burn; rocs dive from the skies; centaurs roam the forests; trolls lumber along ragged paths; phoenixes reincarnate, shedding their past selves in rebirth. And in this wild, mystical land, there is a glistening, white-stone city of a million human souls: Heart. For five millennia, the people of Heart have reincarnated like phoenixes; when they die, their souls are soon born again and they continue their lives' adventures. Sometimes they're tall, sometimes short, sometimes dark, sometimes fair, sometimes female, sometimes male, but there's always another life. Everything is constant. That is, until Ana. The citizens of Heart had been expecting Ciana's rebirth, but instead of their old friend, their soul scanners fail to find a match. The baby is a newsoul, or, as many call her, a nosoul.
Throughout Incarnate and Asunder, we follow the newsoul, Ana, in her coming-of-age story, unraveling the mysteries that led to her birth. She is hated by many, considered a precursor to more nosouls replacing oldsouls; fear of ending up like Ciana leads Ana to be shunned by society, raised by Li, an abusive, vitriolic mother in the countryside surrounding Range, banned from ever entering the glistening city of Heart. At the beginning of Incarnate, Li gives Ana a faulty compass and sends her off on her quest to find her way in the world, hoping she'll become hopelessly lost and die. However, after a run-in with wild sylph that ends with Ana almost drowning in a lake, she is rescued by a boy named Sam, someone who, over the course of the series, manages to convince Ana that she is not a nosoul, but a newsoul.
Two paragraphs of plot summary already, and I don't think I'm even out of chapter four of the first novel... see, there's a reason why I don't do this often. Throughout the series, Ana struggles to find answers to the mystery surrounding her birth - why was she born instead of Ciana? Will she reincarnate? As her mystery begins to unravel, we discover that reincarnation is caused by a being called Janan, someone who many consider to be a god, but who actually is tied to the truth of what really happened five millennia ago. I don't want to get too into the overall plot so as not to spoil the series; truly, the premise is the most delightful part, and I would hate to ruin it for a prospective reader.
Now, onto my views of Infinite. As I mentioned, the premise of this series is one of my all-time favourites. The writing can be a bit threadbare at times, but Meadows' unique and well-executed concept more than compensates; the world of Range is terrifying, magical... filled with echoes of ideas all dreamers must have dreamed about. I know they're thoughts I've had before, at least. Would it be ethical to be immortal, seeing as immortality would only be practical if nobody else could be born? It's this type of lofty question that Infinite addresses, but in nowhere near the clunky way with which novels like Prodigy handle their themes. Meadows takes an intriguing question and builds a remarkable, breathtaking world around it; her message is intrinsically tied to the horrible splendour of her world, never tacked on. Furthermore, her view is never forced down the reader's throat; both the bad and the good are explored, as are the bad and good in human nature, ultimately leaving the reader to decide their own verdict. There are some potential readings of the work that might suggest Meadows is making a more forceful societal commentary... some choice lines in particular might allude to the novel taking a stance on the abortion debate, but the door of ambiguity is left open for the reader to interpret the author's true intentions.
Adding to the wonderful world and plot is the mystery with which the tale is imbued. The reader is unraveling the terrible secrets of the ancient past along with Ana and her oldsoul friends, and that mystique definitely keeps the pacing steady and the reader engaged. The romance is a little less enthralling... Ana and Sam make a wonderful, musical couple, but when the pacing falters, it's the romantic side of Infinite that is usually to blame.
I did promise to get back to my comment about the trilogy's rocky conclusion, and I suppose I'm running out of time to do so. I immensely enjoyed the first 70% or so of Infinite, but by the time our supporting characters start dropping like flies and we reach what is supposedly the climax, Infinite seems to stumble a bit, losing its polished, pensive sheen. Obviously everything can't go according to plan (since when in fiction has the big plan ever gone off without a hitch?) but the last minute mood shift screamed Deus Ex Machina, coupled with a second twist I think it's safe to say every reader would have seen coming (as soon as we're told Deborl has sent warriors away to find something, there was only one thing it could have been). The end of the end perked back up, though... hopefully it's not too much of a spoiler to say that amongst all the Pyrrhic victories in fiction today, it's nice to get a truly happy ending.
Thursday, 30 January 2014
5. The Legend Continues
The book: Prodigy (Legend #2)
The author: Marie Lu
The rating: 3 stars
Well, it's New England that gets flooded, not Canada, so I guess I'll give Lu points for originality.
Prodigy was a bit of a disappointment for me. As I mentioned oh-so-long-ago in my review of Legend, I had high hopes for the world-building, but those hopes fell flat. Social commentaries are great, or any kind of commentary - too frequently YA writers neglect to have these deeper messages in their works, as if teens can't handle interpreting profound themes - but I didn't find that Lu integrated hers well into the novel. Prodigy definitely seems as if it has something to say about classism and class culture, but instead of really doing anything meaningful with those ideas, it ends up culminating in a second-rate Romeo & Juliet star-crossed lovers shtick. Similarly, the Colonies appear as if they were intended to be an emphatically exaggerated version of today's American consumer culture, but this allegory came across clunky and without finesse. It's almost as if Prodigy is Diet Theme (TM) -- tastes pretty much like actual Theme, but with zero calories of brainpower required.
Another thing I had loved about Legend was the strong supporting characters, but Prodigy completely disregards this strength. Aside from Day and June, the cast is all either killed off, sent away from the plot, or they are simply boring cardboard cut-outs, without the depth that I had loved about Legend's characters. Throw in some artificial-tasting love triangles (yes, plural, although I guess that might just make it a love square?) and a completely cliche 'twist' ending that seems more at home on a daytime soap than in an adventure-dystopia novel, and you've got a recipe for a disappointing sequel.
With these reservations aside, the overall plot was enjoyable enough; I'd go as far as to say Prodigy was stronger than the original in the plot department. Instead of relying on old dystopian cliches, Prodigy had its own flavour and twists. Some worked and some did not, but they did succeed in making an entertaining enough story. Despite this more original plot, I wasn't as enthralled with Prodigy as I was with Legend, but that's mostly attributed to characters and pacing. We spend a lot of time watching characters sit around, worry, and do nothing; reading about your protagonists wringing their hands and whining for pages on end does neither them nor the pacing any favours.
I'm a strong proponent of the 'Middle Novel Weakness' theory, in which the second novel in a trilogy is typically the poorest; the first has the benefit of originality, the third has the thrilling conclusion, but the second is that awkward middle child that has to bridge the gap, not able to pique interest or present resolution. Therefore, my hopes for the third book in this trilogy remain unshaken: Prodigy may have had its rough spots, but perhaps Champion will finally allow the saga to reach its lofty potential.
The author: Marie Lu
The rating: 3 stars
Well, it's New England that gets flooded, not Canada, so I guess I'll give Lu points for originality.
Prodigy was a bit of a disappointment for me. As I mentioned oh-so-long-ago in my review of Legend, I had high hopes for the world-building, but those hopes fell flat. Social commentaries are great, or any kind of commentary - too frequently YA writers neglect to have these deeper messages in their works, as if teens can't handle interpreting profound themes - but I didn't find that Lu integrated hers well into the novel. Prodigy definitely seems as if it has something to say about classism and class culture, but instead of really doing anything meaningful with those ideas, it ends up culminating in a second-rate Romeo & Juliet star-crossed lovers shtick. Similarly, the Colonies appear as if they were intended to be an emphatically exaggerated version of today's American consumer culture, but this allegory came across clunky and without finesse. It's almost as if Prodigy is Diet Theme (TM) -- tastes pretty much like actual Theme, but with zero calories of brainpower required.
Another thing I had loved about Legend was the strong supporting characters, but Prodigy completely disregards this strength. Aside from Day and June, the cast is all either killed off, sent away from the plot, or they are simply boring cardboard cut-outs, without the depth that I had loved about Legend's characters. Throw in some artificial-tasting love triangles (yes, plural, although I guess that might just make it a love square?) and a completely cliche 'twist' ending that seems more at home on a daytime soap than in an adventure-dystopia novel, and you've got a recipe for a disappointing sequel.
With these reservations aside, the overall plot was enjoyable enough; I'd go as far as to say Prodigy was stronger than the original in the plot department. Instead of relying on old dystopian cliches, Prodigy had its own flavour and twists. Some worked and some did not, but they did succeed in making an entertaining enough story. Despite this more original plot, I wasn't as enthralled with Prodigy as I was with Legend, but that's mostly attributed to characters and pacing. We spend a lot of time watching characters sit around, worry, and do nothing; reading about your protagonists wringing their hands and whining for pages on end does neither them nor the pacing any favours.
I'm a strong proponent of the 'Middle Novel Weakness' theory, in which the second novel in a trilogy is typically the poorest; the first has the benefit of originality, the third has the thrilling conclusion, but the second is that awkward middle child that has to bridge the gap, not able to pique interest or present resolution. Therefore, my hopes for the third book in this trilogy remain unshaken: Prodigy may have had its rough spots, but perhaps Champion will finally allow the saga to reach its lofty potential.
Wednesday, 22 January 2014
4. Legend-ary?
The book: Legend (Legend #1)
The author: Marie Lu
The rating: 4 stars
"There are dozens of them out there," he snaps. "You'll never make it."
I just wink at him.
Legend, much like Cinder, is a book that I've walked past at the 'popular' YA section of the bookstore thousands of times, and for some reason never opted to pick up. Back before I read Cinder this summer, I thought that cyborg-Cinderella story sounded unpromising, despite the many gushing reviews I read or recommendations I received. However, a university bookstore with a meager supply of YA fiction for sale pushes a girl to her limits, and I soon found Cinder to be one of my favourite reads of this year. After having misjudged Cinder so grievously, I figured I'd do well to give Legend a shot too.
Now for the title question: was Legend legend-ary? No, not really. It was a good read, though--one that had me shoving my other commitments aside (like studying for a certain chemistry exam) to indulge in Lu's comfortable prose and witty characters.
That was definitely a highlight for me: both of Lu's protagonists are extremely intelligent and capable, and unlike so many authors, she writes smart characters that have more of a personality than being 'the smart one'. I'll admit, June irked me for pretty much the entire first half of the book. Her 'extraordinary' intelligence seemed to amount to nothing more than an ability to perform half-baked Sherlock Holmes-style scans of the situation, but as she began to break out of the whole 'good-little-soldier' mould she grew considerably more tolerable. That said, the standout for me is definitely Day. Steetwise and savvy, his intelligence was something that was constantly shown, not told. Reading from his perspective was always a pleasure; he was someone so tactical, so deliberating, yet with such a strong sense of loyalty at odds with that calculating side of him. He's your classic loveable rogue, but Lu makes him more than just an archetype; he's truly compelling. Yes, I may just have a wee literary crush on Daniel Altan Wing, but moving on...
I was also pleasantly surprised by Legend's supporting characters. Quite often in a trilogy-opener like this everyone except the protagonist and their love interest(s) seem to be underdeveloped, but I found Lu's treatment of her supporting characters to be quite skillful, particularly with Tessa and Kaede. Sure, Day's family may be used a bit too exclusively as plot devices (don't get me started about John), but all in all I found the character roster to be happily well-rounded.
The world building... has potential. I wasn't exactly thrilled with how it's been handled so far, but as only the first in a trilogy, I'm optimistic that my opinion on this will improve over the next two installments. As a connoisseur of dystopian and science fiction, I've formulated a theory. 90% of far-flung futures have one of two histories between our present day and theirs: 1) There's been a massive conflict between superpowers China and the United States, with varying results (in Firefly they unite; in The Selection, China takes over the US; in Legend, the US apparently has taken over China) or 2) No country remains in existence except a future-version of the United States (Hunger Games, Whispers in Autumn, etc). I call this theory the "Americans Believe they are Better than Everyone" Theory; bonus points are awarded if it's mentioned that everywhere north of future-USA is now flooded (authors love flooding Canada), or has been annexed. This is going on a bit of a tangent, but the point is that I didn't find Lu's worldbuilding to be anything special. A futuristic class system that is a thinly veiled commentary on today's societal structure; your obligatory 'the government is EVIL' conspiracy that is kind of needed to put the 'dys' in 'dystopia'; the occasional injection of FutureTech; some good old 'Big Brother is Watching You'... For a dystopian fan, it's an enjoyable enough formula, but nothing that hasn't been done countless times before.
All in all, Legend was more than okay. Day was everything I look for in a good protagonist and the plot has potential, even if it is your standard government-conspiracy with the heroes on the run. The book's sequel, Prodigy may have just jumped to the top of my to-read list.
The author: Marie Lu
The rating: 4 stars
"There are dozens of them out there," he snaps. "You'll never make it."
I just wink at him.
Legend, much like Cinder, is a book that I've walked past at the 'popular' YA section of the bookstore thousands of times, and for some reason never opted to pick up. Back before I read Cinder this summer, I thought that cyborg-Cinderella story sounded unpromising, despite the many gushing reviews I read or recommendations I received. However, a university bookstore with a meager supply of YA fiction for sale pushes a girl to her limits, and I soon found Cinder to be one of my favourite reads of this year. After having misjudged Cinder so grievously, I figured I'd do well to give Legend a shot too.
Now for the title question: was Legend legend-ary? No, not really. It was a good read, though--one that had me shoving my other commitments aside (like studying for a certain chemistry exam) to indulge in Lu's comfortable prose and witty characters.
That was definitely a highlight for me: both of Lu's protagonists are extremely intelligent and capable, and unlike so many authors, she writes smart characters that have more of a personality than being 'the smart one'. I'll admit, June irked me for pretty much the entire first half of the book. Her 'extraordinary' intelligence seemed to amount to nothing more than an ability to perform half-baked Sherlock Holmes-style scans of the situation, but as she began to break out of the whole 'good-little-soldier' mould she grew considerably more tolerable. That said, the standout for me is definitely Day. Steetwise and savvy, his intelligence was something that was constantly shown, not told. Reading from his perspective was always a pleasure; he was someone so tactical, so deliberating, yet with such a strong sense of loyalty at odds with that calculating side of him. He's your classic loveable rogue, but Lu makes him more than just an archetype; he's truly compelling. Yes, I may just have a wee literary crush on Daniel Altan Wing, but moving on...
I was also pleasantly surprised by Legend's supporting characters. Quite often in a trilogy-opener like this everyone except the protagonist and their love interest(s) seem to be underdeveloped, but I found Lu's treatment of her supporting characters to be quite skillful, particularly with Tessa and Kaede. Sure, Day's family may be used a bit too exclusively as plot devices (don't get me started about John), but all in all I found the character roster to be happily well-rounded.
The world building... has potential. I wasn't exactly thrilled with how it's been handled so far, but as only the first in a trilogy, I'm optimistic that my opinion on this will improve over the next two installments. As a connoisseur of dystopian and science fiction, I've formulated a theory. 90% of far-flung futures have one of two histories between our present day and theirs: 1) There's been a massive conflict between superpowers China and the United States, with varying results (in Firefly they unite; in The Selection, China takes over the US; in Legend, the US apparently has taken over China) or 2) No country remains in existence except a future-version of the United States (Hunger Games, Whispers in Autumn, etc). I call this theory the "Americans Believe they are Better than Everyone" Theory; bonus points are awarded if it's mentioned that everywhere north of future-USA is now flooded (authors love flooding Canada), or has been annexed. This is going on a bit of a tangent, but the point is that I didn't find Lu's worldbuilding to be anything special. A futuristic class system that is a thinly veiled commentary on today's societal structure; your obligatory 'the government is EVIL' conspiracy that is kind of needed to put the 'dys' in 'dystopia'; the occasional injection of FutureTech; some good old 'Big Brother is Watching You'... For a dystopian fan, it's an enjoyable enough formula, but nothing that hasn't been done countless times before.
All in all, Legend was more than okay. Day was everything I look for in a good protagonist and the plot has potential, even if it is your standard government-conspiracy with the heroes on the run. The book's sequel, Prodigy may have just jumped to the top of my to-read list.
Sunday, 19 January 2014
3. Heart's Desire
The book: A Streetcar Named Desire
The author: Tennessee Williams
The rating: 3 stars
Humble reader, you might be looking at my entries and thinking, 'One of these things is not like the other.' And yes, you'd be correct: Streetcar is a play, not a book, so you've got me there.
In all seriousness, Streetcar is not my usual reading preference. I'm not a big fan of 'realistic' fiction; I don't read YA because I can't 'handle' the big-girl books, but because I sincerely like YA better. It's not even truly a comparison between YA and adult; I simply prefer genre to literary fiction, so tales like Streetcar don't usually do it for me. I love Shakespeare; I love Conan Doyle; I love Baroness Orczy; I hella-love Aldous Huxley (well, mostly just Brave New World, but that's a discussion for another day). Streetcar being an older book doesn't colour my judgement nor does it being a classic, but stories like Streetcar (see also A Tale of Two Cities) just feel dry. But, I was assigned to read the play for IB English, and if I want to make my 50 book goal, skipping out on reviews isn't the way to do it.
The highlight of Streetcar for me would have to be the characters. This probably isn't a news flash for anyone, but they're incredibly well-written and multifaceted. No one was truly our 'hero' and no one was completely sympathetic. Then again, there was no character that never had a moment that you couldn't complete relate to, even the terrifying, animalistic Stanley. People walk the line between good guys and bad guys; it's less clear cut than some works would have you believe. Looking at Streetcar in retrospect, it's fairly obvious to say Blanche was the protagonist and Stanley the antagonist, but reading it felt almost like being unable to see the forest for the trees; you didn't really know who was hiding what, and when the (metaphorical) curtains closed with whom you would be sympathizing.
However, I wasn't that big a fan of the plot. Yes, it was technically brilliant. You've get parallelism and symbolism and all that good stuff that we're sure to discuss on end in English class. You've got twists and turns and mystery and mystique. But despite all this technical prowess, I didn't feel anything as I turned the last page other than a vague churning of my stomach. The story was dark and depressing and violent, and all that darkness did not engage me. That makes it seem like I disliked Streetcar because it was a tragedy, but that is not true. I quite enjoyed Hamlet and Antigone, two other tragic plays, and maybe it is because I feel as if those two succeeded more in evoking pathos. Hamlet's mask of insanity drew me in, sympathizing with him even when he made some pretty godawful decisions. Perhaps the things I like and hate most about Streetcar are two sides of the same coin: I loved the depth and multifacetedness of the characters, but this ability to both relate and be isolated from each of them led me to not quite care about their fates.
So, Streetcar. I can definitely see your literary merit, but you're not the thing for me. Maybe I'd enjoy you more as a stage production as opposed to a transcription; you seem to be the type that would fare better on the stage. In any case, I'm eager to get out of the 'much, much more' section of this blog and back to my favourite lands of 'fantasy, sci-fi, dystopia, adventure.'
The author: Tennessee Williams
The rating: 3 stars
Humble reader, you might be looking at my entries and thinking, 'One of these things is not like the other.' And yes, you'd be correct: Streetcar is a play, not a book, so you've got me there.
In all seriousness, Streetcar is not my usual reading preference. I'm not a big fan of 'realistic' fiction; I don't read YA because I can't 'handle' the big-girl books, but because I sincerely like YA better. It's not even truly a comparison between YA and adult; I simply prefer genre to literary fiction, so tales like Streetcar don't usually do it for me. I love Shakespeare; I love Conan Doyle; I love Baroness Orczy; I hella-love Aldous Huxley (well, mostly just Brave New World, but that's a discussion for another day). Streetcar being an older book doesn't colour my judgement nor does it being a classic, but stories like Streetcar (see also A Tale of Two Cities) just feel dry. But, I was assigned to read the play for IB English, and if I want to make my 50 book goal, skipping out on reviews isn't the way to do it.
The highlight of Streetcar for me would have to be the characters. This probably isn't a news flash for anyone, but they're incredibly well-written and multifaceted. No one was truly our 'hero' and no one was completely sympathetic. Then again, there was no character that never had a moment that you couldn't complete relate to, even the terrifying, animalistic Stanley. People walk the line between good guys and bad guys; it's less clear cut than some works would have you believe. Looking at Streetcar in retrospect, it's fairly obvious to say Blanche was the protagonist and Stanley the antagonist, but reading it felt almost like being unable to see the forest for the trees; you didn't really know who was hiding what, and when the (metaphorical) curtains closed with whom you would be sympathizing.
However, I wasn't that big a fan of the plot. Yes, it was technically brilliant. You've get parallelism and symbolism and all that good stuff that we're sure to discuss on end in English class. You've got twists and turns and mystery and mystique. But despite all this technical prowess, I didn't feel anything as I turned the last page other than a vague churning of my stomach. The story was dark and depressing and violent, and all that darkness did not engage me. That makes it seem like I disliked Streetcar because it was a tragedy, but that is not true. I quite enjoyed Hamlet and Antigone, two other tragic plays, and maybe it is because I feel as if those two succeeded more in evoking pathos. Hamlet's mask of insanity drew me in, sympathizing with him even when he made some pretty godawful decisions. Perhaps the things I like and hate most about Streetcar are two sides of the same coin: I loved the depth and multifacetedness of the characters, but this ability to both relate and be isolated from each of them led me to not quite care about their fates.
So, Streetcar. I can definitely see your literary merit, but you're not the thing for me. Maybe I'd enjoy you more as a stage production as opposed to a transcription; you seem to be the type that would fare better on the stage. In any case, I'm eager to get out of the 'much, much more' section of this blog and back to my favourite lands of 'fantasy, sci-fi, dystopia, adventure.'
Monday, 13 January 2014
2. The World's a Stage
The book: Perchance to Dream (Théâtre Illuminata #2)
The author: Lisa Mantchev
The rating: 3.5 stars
"We should have had a prologue," Peaseblossom fretted. "Not all this nattering about pie."
It's been years since I read Eyes Like Stars, the first novel in this series, and Mantchev wasn't exactly obliging in recapping what I'd missed over the course of Perchance to Dream's first few chapters. I could probably have done with a reread of that one before jumping into Perchance, but on such a tight schedule, who has the time?
It didn't take long for the important stuff to come back, and for me to remember the reasons why I found the original so charming. The premise is fun and right up my alley: a theatre that brings to life history's famous plays, and chock full of references to all the best works of the stage, replete with word-magic and a few dashes of gluttonous fairies.
I think that's the best part of Perchance to Dream: the words and word-magic it invokes. Sometimes it's silly, sometimes inspirational, but just like the playwrights she so frequently quotes, Mantchev truly has a way with words. Some favourites:
"I'd prefer less death and more results."
The water and the wind will wear the wood down, until only water and wind remain.
Are you chasing a wandering star? A dream? A woman? An idea?
"There should be more to love," said the earth, "than 'it did not kill me.' More than 'I survived it.'"
While I loved the words and the world, I wasn't partial to the story. I was never really invested in their quest to rescue Nate; it seemed to be just an irrelevant frame for Shakespearean quotes and witty banter. Things happened, and I read about them. I never felt there to be a deeper connection between myself and the world; it was just a plot, and they were just characters.
And characters they were. Gosh, Bertie. No, the solution to a love triangle isn't polygamy, or whatever it is you were trying to do with all your 'I love them both equally' rhetoric. I had strong hopes for our heroine, but she never seemed to be making her own choices. She was pushed and pulled through the narrative, her actions all due to the men in her life, be it Ariel and Nate (her love interests), her father, or even Aleksandr (the ringmaster of the Innamorati, a group of travelling circusfolk). No matter how frequently she bemoaned what is mine and mine alone or stated fiercely I don't need anyone to save me, she was anything but a strong heroine.
Oh, and let's talk about the love interests. Nate is fine enough, I guess; really, let's talk about Ariel. He physically and mentally abuses Bertie; he forces her to marry him against her will; he is downright creepy, yet he is still presented as a viable love interest? The positive light in which Ariel is presented makes me positively queasy. You know who would make a good love interest? Waschbär. Sure, he wasn't dreamy like Ariel, but he's one of the few males in the cast who actually treat Bertie like a human being.
All in all, it was an enjoyable read, but the plot and cast are just window dressing for the real substance of the book: witty quips, Disney-style comic relief sidekicks, and classic wish-gone-wrong word-magic. 'Serious' isn't Perchance's forte, but in humour and wit the novel really shines.
I'll definitely be coming back to read the trilogy's conclusion, So Silver Bright, but this series' virtues are best enjoyed in moderation. Until then, if novels be the food of love, read on.
The author: Lisa Mantchev
The rating: 3.5 stars
"We should have had a prologue," Peaseblossom fretted. "Not all this nattering about pie."
It's been years since I read Eyes Like Stars, the first novel in this series, and Mantchev wasn't exactly obliging in recapping what I'd missed over the course of Perchance to Dream's first few chapters. I could probably have done with a reread of that one before jumping into Perchance, but on such a tight schedule, who has the time?
It didn't take long for the important stuff to come back, and for me to remember the reasons why I found the original so charming. The premise is fun and right up my alley: a theatre that brings to life history's famous plays, and chock full of references to all the best works of the stage, replete with word-magic and a few dashes of gluttonous fairies.
I think that's the best part of Perchance to Dream: the words and word-magic it invokes. Sometimes it's silly, sometimes inspirational, but just like the playwrights she so frequently quotes, Mantchev truly has a way with words. Some favourites:
"I'd prefer less death and more results."
The water and the wind will wear the wood down, until only water and wind remain.
Are you chasing a wandering star? A dream? A woman? An idea?
"There should be more to love," said the earth, "than 'it did not kill me.' More than 'I survived it.'"
While I loved the words and the world, I wasn't partial to the story. I was never really invested in their quest to rescue Nate; it seemed to be just an irrelevant frame for Shakespearean quotes and witty banter. Things happened, and I read about them. I never felt there to be a deeper connection between myself and the world; it was just a plot, and they were just characters.
And characters they were. Gosh, Bertie. No, the solution to a love triangle isn't polygamy, or whatever it is you were trying to do with all your 'I love them both equally' rhetoric. I had strong hopes for our heroine, but she never seemed to be making her own choices. She was pushed and pulled through the narrative, her actions all due to the men in her life, be it Ariel and Nate (her love interests), her father, or even Aleksandr (the ringmaster of the Innamorati, a group of travelling circusfolk). No matter how frequently she bemoaned what is mine and mine alone or stated fiercely I don't need anyone to save me, she was anything but a strong heroine.
Oh, and let's talk about the love interests. Nate is fine enough, I guess; really, let's talk about Ariel. He physically and mentally abuses Bertie; he forces her to marry him against her will; he is downright creepy, yet he is still presented as a viable love interest? The positive light in which Ariel is presented makes me positively queasy. You know who would make a good love interest? Waschbär. Sure, he wasn't dreamy like Ariel, but he's one of the few males in the cast who actually treat Bertie like a human being.
All in all, it was an enjoyable read, but the plot and cast are just window dressing for the real substance of the book: witty quips, Disney-style comic relief sidekicks, and classic wish-gone-wrong word-magic. 'Serious' isn't Perchance's forte, but in humour and wit the novel really shines.
I'll definitely be coming back to read the trilogy's conclusion, So Silver Bright, but this series' virtues are best enjoyed in moderation. Until then, if novels be the food of love, read on.
Friday, 3 January 2014
1. 'Tis the Season
The book: Whispers in Autumn (The Last Year #1)
The author: Trisha Leigh
The rating: 3.5 stars
I'll admit, I was quite cautious going into Whispers in Autumn, and that may have coloured my perceptions while reading the novel. The premise sounded fantastic - aliens, the-not-too-distant-future, mind control, dystopia... it seemed just about perfect. Then I noticed that it was a self-published work. Now, I'm not trying to say self-published works can't be good, but it made me hesitant. I write; I could self-publish something if I wished. However, I don't really want to read a novel published by an amateur like me... publishers are quality control, in a sense. Some of the writing 'Greats' had their manuscripts refused by publishers many, many times before being published - JK Rowling and Lucy Maud Montogomery are two - but despite that knowledge, I was a bit prejudiced towards Whispers in Autumn in the beginning. However, it was free to download on Kobo, so I pushed that prejudice aside and waded in.
Let's get those basic fears out of the way to start. Leigh can write a sentence; I only encountered two grammatical errors in the entire novel, making my worries about professionalism completely unwarranted. This wasn't the stereotypical self-pub with the painfully photoshopped cover; the artwork adorning the front of Whispers was lovely, and the little autumn leaf at the start of each chapter was a nice touch.
I'm going to change gears for a moment. When I was very young, my friend and I had this game of pretend where we'd imagine we owned a magical bubblegum machine. You would put a nickel into the machine, give it a twist, and out would pop a colourful capsule containing some sort of superpower that you now added to your arsenal. "I can fire lightning bolts!" I'd declare, and she'd say, "Well, I can turn into animals!" A twist later, I'd retort, "Now I can stop time!" This book reminded me of that bubblegum game, in a way. There's time travel! And aliens! And mind control! And elemental powers! (Those were always one of our favourite picks from the ol' bubblegum machine.) While the premise was one of the things that intially drew me in, it quickly became simply too much. The plot felt cluttered with too many gimmicks, too many tropes, and too many cliches; it reminded me of the superfluous superpowers that we came up with as children. I couldn't just be able to fly. I had to fly, and turn into inanimate objects, and have a pet unicorn (another of my childhood favourites). As you grow older, you realize that more isn't necessarily better. It's like teachers always say when they explain essay writing: you're better off going into depth on three ideas than touching briefly on thirteen.
The other problem I had was with predictability. You'd think with all these concepts going on, the plot might be clunky, but unique. However, there was never any twist that really had the necessary oomph. The foreshadowing was often layered on thick; when foreshadowing is used sparingly, a novel will make you feel clever for figuring it out before the characters. When it's used as heavily as it is in Whispers, I grew immensely frustrated with Althea for being so obtuse. The novel isn't written in the tone required for mystery; it is obvious which character hinted as being a friend will actually be a foe, and who hinted as being an adversary is actually an ally. After having just read These Broken Stars, a novel written with a particular mastery of suspense, Whispers fell especially flat.
Those were my two big critiques; now for the good! I quite liked the relationship between Lucas and Althea. It was light (and heavy), touching, and believable. So long as Leigh resists the urge to introduce a love triangle in the next books of this saga, I will be one happy reader; the hint of romance and jealousy regarding Lucas's past was just the right amount to strike a chord without going overboard.
Despite its penchant for the predicable, the plot was also engaging. The season-traveling was a highlight of the novel for me; it gave Whispers a unique flavour. If Leigh had dropped well-worn tropes like elemental powers and divine parentage, focusing more on that which makes her premise unique, I think the novel would have been better for it. Ignoring these what ifs, the tale that Leigh spins in Whispers is most definitely not a waste of time. Hers is a vibrant novel - at times comical, at times poignant - and despite its shortcomings, it is a story well-worth reading (particularly seeing as you can pick up the eBook for free).
The verdict: I'll definitely be checking out Winter Omens, the next book in Leigh's The Last Year series, at some point, although it probably won't be next on my reading list. Nevertheless, after I've given myself some time to breathe and seen some other books, I think I'll be eager to catch up with Althea and follow her on the next segment of her exhilerating journey.
The author: Trisha Leigh
The rating: 3.5 stars
I'll admit, I was quite cautious going into Whispers in Autumn, and that may have coloured my perceptions while reading the novel. The premise sounded fantastic - aliens, the-not-too-distant-future, mind control, dystopia... it seemed just about perfect. Then I noticed that it was a self-published work. Now, I'm not trying to say self-published works can't be good, but it made me hesitant. I write; I could self-publish something if I wished. However, I don't really want to read a novel published by an amateur like me... publishers are quality control, in a sense. Some of the writing 'Greats' had their manuscripts refused by publishers many, many times before being published - JK Rowling and Lucy Maud Montogomery are two - but despite that knowledge, I was a bit prejudiced towards Whispers in Autumn in the beginning. However, it was free to download on Kobo, so I pushed that prejudice aside and waded in.
Let's get those basic fears out of the way to start. Leigh can write a sentence; I only encountered two grammatical errors in the entire novel, making my worries about professionalism completely unwarranted. This wasn't the stereotypical self-pub with the painfully photoshopped cover; the artwork adorning the front of Whispers was lovely, and the little autumn leaf at the start of each chapter was a nice touch.
I'm going to change gears for a moment. When I was very young, my friend and I had this game of pretend where we'd imagine we owned a magical bubblegum machine. You would put a nickel into the machine, give it a twist, and out would pop a colourful capsule containing some sort of superpower that you now added to your arsenal. "I can fire lightning bolts!" I'd declare, and she'd say, "Well, I can turn into animals!" A twist later, I'd retort, "Now I can stop time!" This book reminded me of that bubblegum game, in a way. There's time travel! And aliens! And mind control! And elemental powers! (Those were always one of our favourite picks from the ol' bubblegum machine.) While the premise was one of the things that intially drew me in, it quickly became simply too much. The plot felt cluttered with too many gimmicks, too many tropes, and too many cliches; it reminded me of the superfluous superpowers that we came up with as children. I couldn't just be able to fly. I had to fly, and turn into inanimate objects, and have a pet unicorn (another of my childhood favourites). As you grow older, you realize that more isn't necessarily better. It's like teachers always say when they explain essay writing: you're better off going into depth on three ideas than touching briefly on thirteen.
The other problem I had was with predictability. You'd think with all these concepts going on, the plot might be clunky, but unique. However, there was never any twist that really had the necessary oomph. The foreshadowing was often layered on thick; when foreshadowing is used sparingly, a novel will make you feel clever for figuring it out before the characters. When it's used as heavily as it is in Whispers, I grew immensely frustrated with Althea for being so obtuse. The novel isn't written in the tone required for mystery; it is obvious which character hinted as being a friend will actually be a foe, and who hinted as being an adversary is actually an ally. After having just read These Broken Stars, a novel written with a particular mastery of suspense, Whispers fell especially flat.
Those were my two big critiques; now for the good! I quite liked the relationship between Lucas and Althea. It was light (and heavy), touching, and believable. So long as Leigh resists the urge to introduce a love triangle in the next books of this saga, I will be one happy reader; the hint of romance and jealousy regarding Lucas's past was just the right amount to strike a chord without going overboard.
Despite its penchant for the predicable, the plot was also engaging. The season-traveling was a highlight of the novel for me; it gave Whispers a unique flavour. If Leigh had dropped well-worn tropes like elemental powers and divine parentage, focusing more on that which makes her premise unique, I think the novel would have been better for it. Ignoring these what ifs, the tale that Leigh spins in Whispers is most definitely not a waste of time. Hers is a vibrant novel - at times comical, at times poignant - and despite its shortcomings, it is a story well-worth reading (particularly seeing as you can pick up the eBook for free).
The verdict: I'll definitely be checking out Winter Omens, the next book in Leigh's The Last Year series, at some point, although it probably won't be next on my reading list. Nevertheless, after I've given myself some time to breathe and seen some other books, I think I'll be eager to catch up with Althea and follow her on the next segment of her exhilerating journey.
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