Weekly Wrap Up | 15th July

In lieu of a video that I’d wanted to make but lacked the energy to do, I am here to wrap-up and give mini reviews of the books I was able to finish this week. I finished two books this week and I enjoyed both to varying degrees.

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The first book I finished was Golden Son by Pierce Brown, which is book two in the Red Rising trilogy. I will try and keep this review spoiler-free for both Golden Son and the first book, Red Rising.

Golden Son continues the story about a year after the events at the end of Red Rising. Darrow is trying to maintain power and influence in the world of the Golds when everyone is out to get everyone. It’s a kill or be killed atmosphere that Darrow must navigate if he is to realise the revolution that the Sons of Ares wish for.

I enjoyed Red Rising but my main gripe with it was with how the pacing impacted my ability to connect with the story and characters. Golden Son’s pacing issues felt more severe and I found it hard to connect with what was happening. The story started off with a bang, which was a little disorienting since there was a decent gap between the end of Red Rising and the beginning of Golden Son. I felt flustered in trying to get a grip with who and what was happening that I never quite got over. The book seemed to introduce something intricate and intense but then simmer down to boardroom politics or Darrow whingeing, and this gear shift created a lingering sense of disconnect from the wold Pierce Brown had created. This meant that for most of the story, whilst still fun but occasionally slow and boring, I really couldn’t care. A bit unfortunate considering how epic of a story it actually is.

I did enjoy this book. The gala scene and ensuing chaos was pure excellence. The intensity of that scene carried me onwards to what turned into a fantastic ending. When I finished the book, I was left staring into oblivion with my beating heart in my mouth. For a book that I had felt mostly passive about, that ending shook me to my core.

The last third of the book redeemed itself. Darrow began to assess himself and become vulnerable with the people around him. This made it possible for me to begin to care about his plight like I hadn’t been able to yet in this series.

Though I started to feel more connected to Darrow towards the end, I really stuck with this book for Sevro. Knowing more about him and seeing him be his wicked, goblin self. He is truly a character like no other and it’s gorydamn awesome.

I feel Golden Son fell into the trap that most second books in trilogies fall into; it was a bridging story that left a lot to be desired. Even though it fell into serious lulls, the exciting parts were extremely intense to the extent that it makes the book enjoyable for all its flaws. I am excited to read the next and final part in this story.

Rating – 3 ½ stars


people in treeThe other book I finished this week was The People in the Trees by Hanya Yanagihara. I had picked this one up after having my heart ripped out by A Little Life. I knew these novels would be different, thank goodness, but they are both smart novels, and upon finishing this one, I am eager for any new releases by Yanagihara.

The People in the Trees is a fictional memoir of Norton Perina, the doctor who “discovered” that a mysterious Pacific tribe had utilised the properties of a native turtle to unnaturally extend their lives. After becoming famous for his scientific discovery, he spent the rest of his life taking care of his adopted children that are from the island. Having been convicted on pedophilia charges, his memoir is written whilst he is in prison and is edited by a close friend who has remained steadfastly loyal. He recounts his life before, during, and after becoming famous for discovering the turtle and proving its magical properties.

The thing that struck me about this book was the perspective. It was utterly fascinating. The novel opens with a preface from the friend who is editing his memoir. His friend details how Norton’s life was “unfairly” destroyed by the criminal charges. This preface magnificently sets up the perspective the novel is intended to be understood through. In my opinion, this technique was masterful and reflective of Yanigihara’s erudition. I am literally stunned that this is her debut.

The friendly editor of Norton’s memoir implicitly states in the preface that he is biased towards Norton. This lets the reader know that we are only seeing one side of the story and whilst we may not agree with it, we are being persuaded to do so. The reader is constantly reminded that the memoir is edited by a close friend, so it is impossible to forget that the perspective is biased towards positivity and flawlessness.

However, as a critical reader, we know that Norton is not a great guy. He is a convicted pedophile and he recounts memories of how he enjoyed using and killing animals in lab experiments. Norton’s fragile ego is merely implied since he is the narrator and he is quite narcissistic. This conclusion is implied by the perspective, since the reader is constantly aware that the account is biased, it is implicit that every opinion or judgement requires further examination. We can’t take Norton’s word at face value because of the perspective and this in itself is an interesting technique of storytelling manipulation. It was an extremely smart way of subtly developing depth in Norton’s character.

Since the perspective is Norton’s, who is heralded as a father of scientific discovery, the idea that the pursuit of science and knowledge is promoted over the preservation of culture. This prioritisation creates an effect the resembles colonialism. Science moves in and overtakes O’Ivu, since the pursuit of science is more important than their culture or community. This theme appears boldest in the novel. The scary comparisons to colonialism implicitly illustrates the consequences of this prioritisation.

The consequence of the theoretically amoral quest for knowledge of eternal life is the actual denigration of humanity itself, as is shown in the impact of the misuse of the mystical turtle. The capture and eventual extinction of the native turtles further evokes images of colonisation. Norton does not emote regret over this, just a sense of inevitability, that he is aware that science has a right of way with the hope for knowledge. The risk of this quest for eternal life for humanity, is the loss of humanity itself.

In the same way that Norton is presented in a biased way, so is the pursuit of science. Science is like God so it is imperatively good. Any negative consequences do not in itself cancel the goodness but are brought about by the reader’s critique. They are outside science, just as they are outside the goings on of the novel. It is only through individual critique that we find flaws in Norton and his search for scientific discovery. The pursuit of science is also the silent death of innocence, which is shown in Norton’s fraught relationship with his brother and his many children. The accusation by his child shows just how innocence, and possibly karma, can rally against Norton, the pariah of reason and scientific progress. The subtly of the critique that Yanagihara set up for the reader blew my mind away. If anything, I am very impressed.

Rating – 4 stars


I quite enjoyed reading these books and especially loved critiquing The People in the Trees. It feels like a book that could be re-read for endless examination. I am glad to have read both of them.

Thank you for reading. Happy Reading!

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Steppenwolf: The Multiplicity of Critique | Review

I’m not sure what I expected from this book. A sort of philosophising trip? It certainly played that part well. The writing was exquisite and perfectly encapsulated Harry’s internal conundrum. I was certainly enraptured by the magic theatre and musicality of this novel.

However, his conflict with his misplacement in civil society pertains to a specific gaze, that of the middle class white male. To some degree, Hesse was aware of this gaze (he was acutely aware of his class, but ignorant of race and sex). His descriptions of Jazz, Negroes (“primitive” and “vacant eyes”), Jews and depictions of women were products of the novel’s unenlightened breadth. The women in this story, specifically Hermine and Maria, were mere objects in this story. There is hardly any other way to describe them. I am aware that my own privileges in life enable me to be able to contextualise the ignorances and to be aware of the problems in the novel, without it deterring me from finding joy in both the novel itself and the pursuant analysis. It is exclusively through my own privileges that I can distinguish between the ignorances and what engaged me. I state this because I don’t want to feign ignorance of the harms of these evils.

I was still able to enjoy the majority of this book despite careful consideration of the fundamental biases that infiltrated the philosophy of this novel. Hesse has a way with words and there were some incredibly insightful and profound moments. I think I would like to read some critiques of this novel to further engage with what Hesse attempted to achieve.

It is precisely books like this that I love to find myself ensnared by. To be able to flex my analytical literary muscles to assess and dissect the good and the nasty. I can acknowledge the prejudice and hope to contextualise it or seek to distinguish it as noise, mere excess from the crux of the novel. But at the same time, I aim to engage with the philosophy. The philosophy that grapples with tenets of existentialism and nihilism. I can play with the ideas this novel churns out and try to piece together whether the novel is self-aware of its own flaws, or if the absence of awareness is what exemplifies the philosophy. Any conclusion, any derivation is the nature of literary criticism, the nature of the individualist experience of literature. It is an experience that I am innately enamoured by and I am glad and grateful that this book has ignited my passion.

To me, this book felt like an indictment of Harry, the eponymous Steppenwolf. The novel attempts to poke fun at the lens which Harry tries to unravel his internal war. His disconnect from society, from the experiences of pleasure or pain, was subtle parody on the intellectual asceticism, which denounces popular culture, for a culture more pure, more eternal and supposedly transcendent of space and time. Harry is his own paradox who perpetuates the things that disgust and separate him from society. The philosophical basis of this book anchored me with interest and I couldn’t help but enjoy this experience. Definitely one that I would love to return to in the future.

Quotes

This Steppenwolf of ours has always been aware of at least the Faustian two-fold nature within him. He has discovered that the one-fold of the body is not inhabited by a one-fold of the soul, and that at best he is only at the beginning of a long pilgrimage towards this ideal harmony. He would either like to overcome the wolf and become wholly man or to renounce mankind and at last to live wholly a wolf’s life. It may be presumed that he has never carefully watched a real wolf. Had he done so he would have seen, perhaps, that even animals are not undivided in spirit. With them, too, the well-knit beauty of the body hides a being of manifold states and striving. The wolf, too has his abysses. The wolf, too, suffers. No, back to nature is a false track that leads nowhere but to suffering and despair. Harry can never turn back again and become wholly wolf, and could he do so he would find that even the wolf id not of primeval simplicity, but already a creature of manifold complexity. Even the wolf has two, and more than two, souls in his wolf’s breast, and he who desires to be a wolf falls into the same forgetfulness as the man who sings: “If I could be a child once more!” He who sentimentally sings of blessed childhood is thinking of the return to nature and innocence and the origin of things, and has quite forgotten that these blessed children are beset with conflict and complexities and capable of all suffering.

There is, in fact, no way back either to the wolf or to the child. From the very start there is no innocence and no singleness. Every created thing, even the simplest, is already is already guilty, already multiple. It has been thrown into the muddy stream of being and may never more swim back again to its source.

Before all else I learned that these playthings were not mere idle trifles invented by manufacturers and dealers for the purposes of gain. They were, on the contrary, a little or, rather, a big world, authoritative and beautiful, many sided, containing a multiplicity of things all of which had the one and only aim of serving love, refining the senses, giving life to the dead world around us, endowing it in a magical way with new instruments of love, from powder and scent to the dancing show, from ring to cigarette case, from waist-buckle to handbag. This bag was no bag, this purse no purse, flowers no flowers, the fan no fan. All were the plastic material of love, of magic and delight. Each was a messenger, a smuggler, a weapon, a battle cry.

For the first time I understood Goethe’s laughter, the laughter of the immortals. It was a laughter without an object. It was simply light and lucidity. It was that which is left over when a true man has passing through all sufferings, vices, mistakes, passion and misunderstanding of men and got through to eternity and the world of space. And eternity was nothing else than the redemption of time, its return to innocence, so to speak, and its transformation again into space.

Tolstoy vs. YouTube | Book Review

29414576Tolstoy stole my heart at seventeen. Anna Karenina revived my soul and ignited a love for Russian culture that has steadily kindled for years. The premise of a modernisation of Anna Karenina as an amateur web series was too promising to resist. Unfortunately, the premise was the only consistent and worthwhile feature in this book.

I imagined I would overcome my boredom and distance from the main character, Tash, but I never did. I never felt like I knew her or any of the characters. They felt like cardboard cut-outs placed onto a set that failed to be properly developed. In addition to the overall lack of development, some of the dialogue felt clunky to the point of unrealism, which heightened my feeling of isolation to the characters.

The writing wasn’t bad per se, more unpractised or unrefined. I felt like the scenes didn’t flow together and that the plotting was nearly non-existent. The things that did happen seemed to be over the top and inconsistent with the supposed focus of the book – the web series. I thought it would focus more on that and how being an amateur and learning about your passion is scaring and exciting, but it brushed over the intricacies of filming a web series and made it out to be that Tash was already a pro filmmaker and the actors all magnificent at seventeen.

It felt overboard to introduce so many threads to such a short novel. There wasn’t enough space to explore anything fully because there was too much stuffing. The asexuality perspective was probably the fullest focus of the novel, which was surprising since it popped out of nowhere about halfway through the novel. The threads that felt undeveloped included the pressure of internet fame, ambitions and pitfalls of filmmaking as a passion, big sister graduating and moving to college, Tash’s relationship with the Harlow family, the Harlow’s dad’s battle with cancer, the Golden Tuba awards, the unexpected pregnancy, the budding flirtation, and the anxieties preceding the final year of high school.

This is starting to sound overly negative, despite the fact that I didn’t actually hate this. I just would’ve appreciated more depth on some of the threads of the story rather than a culmination of face-value plot points. What is left after the shallowness of this novel is a light-hearted contemporary that gives a unique perspective regarding internet fame and filmmaking. I adored the references to Anna Karenina and Leo Tolstoy, and Tash’s love for Tolstoy felt like genuine adolescent dorkiness. This book felt geared towards the Tumblr and YouTube generation (of which I was a part) so it wasn’t difficult for me to fall into the internet environment.

Whilst this book resembles nothing of the Russian master, the crumbs of Tolstoy make this blithe contemporary enjoyable and a unique addition to the contemporary genre with its focus on asexuality and internet fame.

Love Shouldn’t be Creepy | A Book Review

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Title: I’m Still Here

Author: Clélie Avit

Pages: 240

Catchwords: Coma, French, Non-consensual romance


I’m going to admit right off the bat, I borrowed this purely because of its pretty cover. I guess after reading the blurb, I was intrigued to see if this story could be pulled off in a non-creepy way. Yeah, I don’t think that was ever gonna happen.

At first I thought it might be due to the translation. Then I realised it’s just overall poor writing. I get that it’s drawn it’s inspiration from Sleeping Beauty, but it was nigh impossible to get over the creep factor. Since the plot is predictable, the focus was largely on the characters, yet they both felt inconsistent and very underdeveloped. It was filled with irritating cliches with little to no explanation of how it fit in with their identity.

Essentially Thibault is on the fifth floor with his Mum who is visiting his brother who he doesn’t want to see. He wanders around and accidentally goes into Elsa’s room where she is in a coma. He then proceeds to talk to her and falls asleep in the chair next to her bed. She hears him despite her coma and isn’t creeped out by this stranger who thinks he is entitled to be her friend and even KISS her. He is confronted with her ACTUAL friends, and isn’t even slightly embarrassed by his total lack of etiquette. And neither are the friends! They indulge his budding infatuation even though it is very creepy to be “drawn” to this unconscious girl.

He continues to visit her and fall in love, despite having nothing to go off about her except that she’s in a COMA. Apparently she is also inspired by him and sees him as her rainbow willpower to finally wakeup. People have been visiting her pretty consistently during the past 5 months and yet the novel sort of focuses on how he is an unwitting hero, which is kind of ridiculous. His automatic infatuation with this unconscious girl that he doesn’t even know is due to his longing for the perfect family. There is a reoccurring metaphor where he visualises his life as a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book called ‘The Book in Which I am The Hero.’ Blurgh. The complete lack of consent and the total creepiness of his “love” is super unnerving. It’s also inconsistent at times which would make sense because she is really only an object to which he can project his ideals of a perfect family. There is literally one part in the book where he forgets about her for a whole week even though he is totally in love with her right?!

This book was absolutely cringe worthy with a major creep factor. Had to skim read to the end cause it was just that bad. There were other problems, such as the poor writing (it was quite bad, and this may or may not be the fault of the translation) and the unbelievable relationships between Thibault and everyone in his life. It almost felt like the author only understood communication through the lens of daily television soaps. Thibault’s habitual pineapple juice and Elsa’s glacial mountaineering characteristics felt so overtly forced into the story that they just felt like paper dolls of characters instead of people that I actually could believe in.

Suffice it to say, I did not like this book.

1 out of 5 stars

Inconsistent Blogging Doesn’t Nullify the Title

I have always been this way. It’s hard to change and I’m constantly trying not to judge myself too harshly.

I am a inconsistent blogger.

I know, the SHAME. I’ve been blogging for years and years, yet I can never stick to a schedule or even post somewhat consistently. Even with this blog that I created at the end of 2016, I haven’t posted since New Year. As more time when on, I felt ashamed that I hadn’t kept up with blogging like I had wanted to.

But then I realised something. I arrived at an epiphany. It doesn’t matter. I can blog whenever I feel like it, even if the mood for it happens in between months. This is my blog and my life, and I’m entitled to be inconsistent.

I read a lot, and whilst this is great for my Goodreads goal, it impacts on how I prioritise my time, and blogging, as the consistently neglected, always falls to the wayside. This doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy blogging, or that I’m not a blogger, just that, for me, my blogging happens in waves.

So is this me stating another unrealistic goal? Am I saying that I’m jumping back on the bandwagon that I keep missing? Not really. I would like to make writing and blogging a higher priority. But there will be no unreasonable promises coming from me. I will not make 2 posts weekly ad infinitum. I will not resign myself to an unsuccessful schedule that will just enforce shame around an activity I enjoy.

Though I am a blogger, just on my own terms. Those being – whenever I feel like it.

The Catcher in the Rye | Review

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My highschool required reading was minimal compared to the classics that seem to be universally read throughout other schools. I’ve never picked up nineteen eighty-four, never glanced at Catch-22, or even considered The Catcher in the Rye. I’d picked up some things about the book before going into, such as Holden being a bit of a whiny character who dislikes phonies. My expectations were founded by I didn’t find Holden to be as annoying as so many people seem to think he is.

Holden is a unique character, who is desperately and destructively trying to linger in the innocence of his youth. Whilst he is interested in learning at school, he can’t bring himself to invest his mind because that would be pushing himself further into the adult world that is full of people that are true to themselves like children are. He finds these people that are grown up and enshrined in dull rituals of etiquette repulsive because they are the catalyst of lost innocence.

The plot is largely non-existent as it focuses on Holden experiencing New York at this transitory time in his life. He isn’t quite a child or an adult, so his place in this city is undefined and shaky. There is a strong contrast between scenes where he is violent unfit for the adult scenery (such as the scene where he has a conflict with a prostitute) and scenes where is acknowledged as belonging. He may be a compulsive liar but he is not a bad person. I see this clear as day when he was talking with the nuns who are a model of virtue and charity. He can’t help but proffer himself to them and provide charity and company because this is a form of company that is more aligned with his being.

This book is interesting because of how Holden is this physical representation of philosophical difficulties of adolescence. Definitely a fascinating character study and I can see its merit in a classroom.

4 out of 5 stars

The Vampire Lestat | Review

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Catchwords – Irresitable Vampires, Pre-Revolutionary Parisian Theatre, Beautiful Male Relationships, Vampiric Historical Fiction, Meaning of Beauty


Immediately upon beginning this sequel, I began to recollect how much I fell in love with Interview with the Vampire. Just like it’s precursor, The Vampire Lestat is beautifully written and full of emotions and original characters. I found myself lingering over certain lines or passages of the book that resonated a sense of literary brilliance in me. I truly enjoyed every moment of this book and wished I had picked it up sooner.

One of my favourite things about vampiric tales is how fantasy and historical fiction are melded together so that they are neither one or the other, but something totally unique. Anne Rice’s vampire lore is definitely one of my favourites and this tome doles out quite a lot of history and background to the underworld she has created. I found the stories within stories to be a truly fluid and magnificent conduit of her vampire lore. Hearing Armand’s and Marius’s tales from themselves was magical.

Lestat. The Vampire Lestat. He was wondrous in the first instalment of The Vampire Chronicles, and continues to shine as a multi-faceted and intriguing character. I fell in love with his relationships to others such as Nicholas (oh sweet child) and their “conversation”, Armand and the Theatre of the Vampires, as well as Gabrielle. It was awesome to see Lestat’s mortal beginnings and I love that the story started so normally and ended up going so many interesting places.

The Paris of Lestat’s mortal life was vivid and alive on the pages. I could see Nicholas and him going about their lives in this pre-revolutionary city.

The theme of beauty was strewn all throughout and was articulated with such brilliance. You could see Rice musing on the purpose and existence of beauty and life through her characters who were masterfully created to ponder this unanswerable queries. I also enjoyed the contemplation of humanity’s need for gods, relative to a universal and uniting purpose. When the story is told over so many differing time periods when faith in higher powers was commonplace and attached to the identity of humanity, it was interesting to see characters contemplate changing temperatures in belief and how this would affect humanity and vampires alike.

I adore these books and the stories found within. I am enamoured and can’t wait to pick up the next one.

Rating – 5/5 stars