The Bookworm: Year Zero by Rob Reid

Crossposted from Goodreads.

This book started out pretty promising, I thought. But somewhere along the way, it went pear-shaped.

Many people have either compared it to Hitchhikers or refused to, saying that such comparisons are extremely unfair to hold a contemporary novel up against a science-fiction legend. And while I agree with the latter, honestly even I upon completing the novel could not help but sit there and wonder if I had read a rip-off of Hitchhikers.

I guess that is the inherent danger of writing a science-fiction comedy on the absurdity of human pettiness.

I originally picked up the book due to being intrigued by the concept that drove the story: Aliens owe the planet Earth the entire fortune of the universe. Also I found the prospective of learning about the inherent tragedies of copyright law from a music standpoint in a not-so-dry atmosphere to be palatable. All in all, it was enough that the book stuck in my head as a prospective reading choice, which therefore allow me to give it a fair shot.

And the opening felt promising. I found the dialogue to be pretty quirky, but not in a bad way and certainly enjoyed the pop-culture reference of every mid-2000s meme that existed.

But as the plot twisted sideways, I found that the story went the same way.

And that isn't to say a plot twisting sideways is a bad thing, but in this case, it seemed to just make the whole absurd story go from cute and funny to a case of "WTF just happened."

It was amazing how often the story got bogged down by either its technological mumbo-jumbo or else the copyright legalese involved. And while the author tried very hard to compensate for the overabundance of nonsense by adding humour to it as a means to make it less boring and more entertaining, the truth of the matter was that he tried entirely too hard to "fix" it, and therefore turning it into something that was less humourous and more obnoxious.

The footnotes didn't help either. Actually it made the whole thing far more tedious than it needed to be and basically hijacked the voice of the story from human cluelessness to a voice that was far too self-important given the current nature of the plot.

And WHAT was with that cat?

The thing that really annoyed me was how quickly things moved after the tedious middle part: too quickly if you ask me. Unbelievable as the story was to begin with, some of its solutions came about in a way that was unbelievable even within the context of the book's universe. Deus ex machina, anyone?

After all the fleshing out, it seemed as if the book decided it was in too deep and needed to wade back into shallower waters and ended up in the kiddie pool instead.

I will give credit to the penultimate solution to all our problems as I thought it was actually quite creative, but other than that, it fell flat when it needed to make its biggest impact. And while I enjoyed the humour and the pop-culture references enough that I'm willing to give it one more star than I gave Hitchhikers (which has it's own story to tell with regards to that rating), I can't say it's a book that I felt was more than the story.

It just fell flat of its intended goal.

Hate to say it, but Year Zero came off like a early-2000s boy band song: bland and commercialized.

The Bookworm: The Fault in our Stars by John Green

Crossposted from Goodreads.

"This book is a work of fiction. I made it up."

There are books that entertains, amuses, distracts and describes.

Then there are books that make you think.

I opened this review not with a quote from the narrative of The Fault in our Stars or even one famously said in the past that may be able to divine the impact of the story. But no, I used a fairly pedestrian quote from his Author's Note; a piece of writing that is sometimes only skimmed if observed at all. It is a fault of the impatient humanity in us all who is less occupied with the art of book-reading than simply getting to Point A in order to advance to Point B.

I had earlier opined that those who skipped or missed the contents of the Author's Note is a fool. I had since changed that opinion, but only because others may not value the thought behind it as much as I did, or else fail to observe the significance I found in it, in which case the Author's Note is therefore rendered meaningless.

Also, it's a young adult's book, and I cannot fault the young who feel, sometimes more than they should.

For me as an adult, in two paragraphs, John Green had forever obscured how I read the book, for better or for worse.

Because from there, I walked the tightrope between becoming emotionally involved and attached as some on GR obviously have based on both the reverent and enraged reviews, while also keeping in mind that the human emotions he was eliciting within us weren't from real people.

This whole world, this whole construct was a study in the abstract art of the seemingly opposite natures of love and death. And while he tried to tread carefully without patronizing or trivializing, from the start he knew that it is not a real interpretation of the real stuff people face every day, that for many it will trivialize or patronize.

But he never attempted or intended to make it such that it was or even could equal reality. Because imagination while powerful is not real.

The pipe is not a pipe. There is nothing here to either get angry at or sad or happy. Of course, you can get emotional with the idea, but then what really are you emotional about? If it is the presumption, there were none.

If it's because the story felt real or unreal to the point of it being an insult on your being, well according to the author, you're doing it wrong.

If the arrogance or maybe the irreverence didn't please you, well I can't help you there.

The book was engaging and simply written and yet exceedingly mature and complicated, the themes moving in-and-out of the fore at such a pace that I often had to stop and consider what I just read. So simply written, complicatedly thought, if you would allow for the visual paradox.

The primary characters were unrealistic is a huge complaint with some and would normally be one of mine. Between the perfect body of the ridiculously named Augustus Waters (Hazel Grace is passable, but barely) and the far too eloquent discussions of things that university students majoring in philosophy would fail to be able to qualify if even produce a counter-argument to.

But it didn't annoy me.

Instead I wondered if in creating the abstract, he allowed himself to write as if these teenagers did not suffer from our verbal impreciseness and poor grammar and was able to communicate as the voice in our head does, which is mostly far more intelligent than our mouth would ever be.

(Trust me, I do not communicate this articulately in real life.)

Additionally, with less than half the book to go, I started seeing that the stupid name(s) in addition to the 'body of the Adonis' (if you'd forgive the Twilight reference) was less so an attempt to ingratiate the romantics but more to make sarcastic reference to a common romance book trope, while additionally stressing how unreal this book is supposed to be.

(Nevermind the significance of an ellipses and when and where they are used in this book)

The book had its surprises, but none that stopped the heart and made you question the authority of the book: predictable and yet not without its thematic significance at every corner.

Predictable because it is a book about death and dying. Death is predictable because eventually everyone dies. It is life that is unpredictable. And yet it is a book directed at a crowd that for the most part does not know dying, cannot see death in their window or at their doorstep; those who are just starting life.

But it is also about love. And nothing is more unpredictable than that, without waxing philosophical on it.

Together they are two competing events, both tragedies and triumphs that are abstract opposites and yet strikingly similar things.

All this thinking did not stop me from feeling however. I did laugh, I did tear up, and I did get upset at times. Because my emotions were real, even if emotions were just as abstract as the novel itself.

Perhaps I am reading too far into this book, creating thought where there is none. Sometimes things are written because they just are and I am just a reader who fabricates and divines how to interpret it for myself and others, therefore making this story more than what it is supposed to be: made up.

I didn't have a fiction shelf on GR, largely because as a consumer of fantasy, the majority of my books are inherently fictional and so would turn out to be mostly redundant and frankly of little use.

Out of respect for the subject matter within this book however, and the characters and emotions that belong within it, I created a fiction shelf where this will reside.

Perhaps there will be others to join it. Life is unpredictable like that.

And.

The Bookworm: Words of Radiance by Brandon Sanderson

Crossposted from Goodreads.

"Expectation. That is the true soul of art. If you can give a man more than he expects, then he will laud you his entire life. If you can create an air of anticipation and feed it properly, you will succeed.

Conversely, if you gain a reputation for being too good, too skilled... beware. The better art will be in their heads, and if you give them an ounce less than they imagined, suddenly you have failed."

It is those words, spoken by a true mystery tucked away on the final three or so pages of the Words of Radiance that truly resonated at the very end.

Because, and without attempting to be presumptive of Brandon Sanderson's meaning behind those words, it was the task that we fantasy readers have set upon him after his tremendous first book of this series, given that it was held up in the same light as many already established legends in the genre.

And yet, that quote does more than just speak about the author's enormous task. The art of expectation and at its heart, the truth and lies of human perspective, really was a theme that wove itself quite profoundly throughout the story, though it took sincerely deep retrospection on my part to realize how deeply ingrained it was. Every character, from the good to the bad to the ones you wanted to strangled, from even the biggest names to the most menial of characters either struggled with this art, toyed with it, or tried to seize control of it. 

But that is human and a trial that is seen everywhere in fiction and non. But it is in the execution of it that made it artful. And while I cannot say what or how such battles resolved itself, if resolved at all without spoiling too much, I can say that their results were decidedly mixed.

Book two contained just as much world-building and character-establishing as the first book, proving the adage at least in Sanderson's written world that the more you know, the more you realize how much you don't know.

But while the increase in complexity added a fascinating depth to the world and its central characters, it also really dampened the pacing of the story, particularly throughout the middle, where much of it was mostly establishing new relations and thickening plots, lacking much satisfactory progression. I admit that I found myself growing increasingly impatient and frustrated with the pacing, and made a bad habit of skipping ahead from time to time to ease it.

It is a trait that I noticed in his first book, one that was repeated in this one and I can't help but wonder if it is a common thread of his in his stories - in that he will spend an extraordinary amount of time creating a slow build mixed in with many infuriating clues but no resolution, before unleashing chaos in the final three-quarters of the book.

And when I say chaos, I mean a chaos that can be matched only a few times in fantasy literature. Think the Battle of Pelennor's Fields combined with the fist-pumping sensation experienced at the end of the Battle of Helm's Deep. And even that can't match the scope of the chaos.

That foreshadowing is common in every book, but the way Sanderson builds expectation is perhaps too effective to the point where impatience is inevitable.

And yet, here I am complaining about pacing when in truth, Sanderson's story moves. That is to say he didn't spend three, or four or in one really significant case... TWELVE massive books talking and talking and waiting on a big world-changing event. 

No, Sanderson got to his point swiftly and in some ways, way too soon for where society is in preparing for it. But is that not life, when a tragedy often comes sooner than you hope and when you are least prepared for it?

And we are more than unprepared, for truly the future is now uncertain now that what was foreshadowed had come to pass. We are now totally at the mercy of fate, because there is nothing that is now known for sure in this world. 

Granted, Sanderson doesn't have the shock value of A Song of Ice and Fire and in some ways doesn't play the game of gritty realism. But in the same breath it isn't playing said game because it is playing its own.

Despite some of my honest annoyances, including one gigantic spoiler that involves an unnecessary attraction at this point of the story in my opinion, Brandon Sanderson did not fail in the expectations that were given Book two of The Stormlight Archives.

He certainly lived up to my expectations. And he did it entirely too well, to the point that I'm already growing impatient for Book three.

Assorted goodies of a creative mind

With my book reviewing world on hold due to the reading of Words of Radiance, and my video gaming habits on a bit of a hiatus in order to clear my brain, I've transitioned into a bit of fanfiction writing as a means to waste time and divulge various plot bunnies that bounce around my head.

My work in fanfiction is sporadic at best, non-existent at its worst and in large and long intervals. Most of the time it's just getting well and plain stuck, other times it's me spending far too much time researching and getting bored of the subject matter because I soon feel as if I'm in over my head.

And I'm nit-picky too. I like my stories to be canon and believable. I like my characters to be true to the characterization they come from. And I like my stories to be accurate.

I did manage to spit out a quick 1700 word drabble on Olaf from Frozen in the last few days, but other than that, the other works have been mostly slow moving, with at least one epic on the move.

And I'm doing my best to at least get the work completely written before going ahead and publishing it. Which is how most writers actually operate anyway given that you don't hand out chapters when the book isn't even complete.

But I'll be honest, I'd make a terrible author. Not without some kind of absurd deadline breathing down on me anyway.

There and back again: A blogging tale by an inconsistent blogger

So I have about five minutes between doing laundry and reading Words of Radiance to type out a quick thought on blogging and why I suck at it.

(By the way, Words of Radiance and its author Brandon Sanderson are phenomenal. I've been describing the series as "the next Game of Thrones" to a lot of my illiterate friends. Seriously, if you like fantasy books, you'll thank me for recommending this)

First, it's the fact that I create a gimmick for it and quickly tire of the topic and premise. The second is simply that when you hit a point that it feels like work and not something I enjoy is when I just stop wholesale from doing it because I find other things I'd rather do.

Like reading.

Albeit, I missed writing regularly and getting my creative juices flowing once more. So here I am, back again and attempting to re-invent myself through the blog that I felt best reflected my life and what I'm up to.

But I'm going to drop the gimmicks and the themes and the planning when it comes to running a blog and just let it reflect me and my insane lack of being able to focus on one specific topic from month to month. Because it is tiresome after X number of months.

From this point out, I would rather focus on what's on my mind, what topic "grinds my gears" so to speak and what interests me. Like right now, I'm really into reading a wide variety of books, the movie Frozen and worrying about finances despite wanting to buy pretty things.

Can you tell I just dropped a large amount of money on things I don't need, money that I should realistically be saving and/or putting towards various debts of mine? Needless to say I'm not the best money manager.

I think my five minutes are up. We'll see how long this lasts this time around. :)

The Bookworm: fifty shades in public

When you consider the fact that this series originated as an R-rated piece of Twilight fanfiction, it goes without saying that the quality, style and substance of these books are, for lack of a better term and without using stronger language, incredibly juvenile.

But I will readily admit that as a mentally stimulate and voyeuristic pursuit, it does its job and more effectively than I expected given the rather insipid narration. It inflames the mind of possibilities, fantasies and feeds into the dark corners of a people's mind that is unwilling to admit the more shameful sides of their sexuality.

Basically, what I am trying to say is that this book is little more than pornography in written form.

Yes, pornography. You know that dirty little secret that nearly every male (and enough females) hide on their hard drives, when they are not discreetly seeking for it on an internet that is probably 90% financed by said industry for?

Which is why it baffles me and even amuses me when I see women reading a Fifty Shades book on public transit, or really anywhere in public. 

For me, it's the equivalent to a guy pulling out his iPad/iPhone/Laptop and watching porn on the train. And if  a guy were to do that, what does it tell you about him?

He's horny, he's aroused and he needs some attention and will probably take it from the first decent looking chick that will give some to him. Right?

Now, I understand that a book is not something people immediately associate with sexual arousal or desire, but the Fifty Shades series have generated enough pop buzz in 2012 that enough people know enough of the context of the story to get a pretty good idea of just what the girl is thinking or feeling physically while biting her lip reading this book.

Basically, she is sexually aroused and will take it from any decent looking male who happens to give it to her.

Yes, this book is vapid, meaningless and totally unrealistic. It lends no artistic or thought to the human race. It is badly written, with bad dialogue and filled with cheap thrills.

But then again, so is porn!

So to judge the book on its intellectual and value to the human race would be like trying to sell Deep Throat to the Academy. And admittedly, there is a place for these kind of useless fantasies in this world.

But for God's sakes, leave the fantasies within the privacy of one's home! 

The Bookworm: the last dragonlord by joanne bertin

The Last Dragonlord by Joanne Bertin
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

My younger sister, who was crazy about this particular series, has spent years attempting to get me to read this book. I've always been a bit wary of my sister's recommendations however, given her general aversion to fantasy novels.

I wasn't entirely wrong with my doubts in the end. This book isn't a classic or a straight up fantasy novel.

This is a romance novel set in a fantasy world.

Nevertheless, I found once I started this book, I couldn't put this down.

Don't get me wrong: a profound and thoughtful reading pursuit this is not. At its very core it is a shallow book with very little real depth and fairly cookie-cutter characters built around a cookie-cutter romantic notion that lacked personality or strife. Real character imperfections were few and far between.

Also the layout style the author chose to pursue, in that the reader knew of and were far more aware of the interactions and plans between the protagonist and antagonist certainly made supposedly dramatic points in the novel a rather frustrating or tiresome experience as it led one to question the general intelligence of the characters as a whole. It also made much of it much too predictable.

And yet, I found the pacing of the storytelling engaging and the characters enjoyable despite the lack of depth, to the point that I struggled to stop reading it at points. And I thought the world's mythology as a whole concerning the dragons to be a rather clever concept.

So despite all its short-comings, I gave it five stars, simply because it was a read that I did enjoy and in the end, a delightful breath of fresh air from the more heady material I tend to consume on a regular basis. There is nothing wrong with a light read, and it was on that basis that I rated it.

Did I take much away from the novel? No.
Did it make any real emotional or mental impact on me? Nope.
Will I read it again? Yes.

Because it's a very easy read.

With that said, I wouldn't really recommend it to serious fantasy readers... or most men for that matter. It's a little too voyeuristic (and therefore, unrealistic) for most and is more sappy than adventurous as well.

View all my reviews on Goodreads

The Bookworm : tigana by guy gavriel kay

Once upon a time, when I was still in high school, my high school librarian, understanding my insatiable appetite for fantasy novels, and having just managed my way through Game of Thrones, recommended for me to try Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay. It helped too that I read his Fionavar Tapestry trilogy only a while previous.

I couldn't do it.

Today I couldn't tell you exactly why I felt this way, but the introduction simply never hooked me in proper, like George R.R. Martin, Robert Jordan or Terry Goodkind all managed to do for me around this time.

So it has been sitting on my "to-read" list for a long, long time. I even eventually bought a copy of the book at a second-hand book sale in order to have it close at hand if I ever decide to actually try it again.

But still, even when it was there, I forgot about it.

Until a few weeks back, watching Swords and Lasers on the Geek and Sundry YouTube site. They had selected Tigana as their "book of the month" for June (currently, Leviathan Wakes is this month's book).


But that wasn't what caught my attention and had me decide to try to pick up the book once more.

They revealed that BestFantasyBooks.Com listed it as the #1 stand-alone fantasy book out there.

Why did this matter to me? Because BestFantasyBooks.Com was the site that led me to Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind book. And for that I will be forever grateful, but also forever will defer to its knowledge on the subject of good fantasy.

So I decided to make it my "travel book" (a book I travel around with and generally make a mild mess of due to the nature of my bag, books and travel arrangements) and try again last week.

300 pages later, I am honestly having a difficult time putting it down. To the point that my "read at home" book, Terry Brook's Running With Demons is being rather unjustly neglected.

Tigana's premise that drives the novel and draws the characters together, a word, a place and a name that's been forbidden and forgotten by sorcerous means and the people that cannot forget it is a thing of beauty. There is a real sense of loss and a inward reflection on how ultimately, one's greatest fear is to be forgotten, which is ultimately what is happening to a whole generation of people.

The characters are realistic, vivid and charismatic in the reader discovering who they are and what drives them. It unravels slowly, but organically, surprising you in places and drawing you further into the intrigue.

This is the first time since The Name of the Wind as well that I have also basically refused to read up on any Wikipedia summaries or anything that can account for any sort of spoilers out of sheer frustration of the novel's pace. I want to be surprised and discover what happens in this book on my own truly.

And as I kept reading, I understood why I couldn't handle it in high school.

Tigana was far too mature of a fantasy book for me to understand its art or its subtlety.

Yes I managed to happily devour The Lord of the Rings and the first of George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire books with relative ease, all three being fairly mature books in its own right. But The Lord of the Rings had the benefit of a movie to help encourage me along and Game of Thrones... well it was full of fighting, brawny action from beginning to end and allowed for me to ignore all the politicking in between.

Clash of Kings however involved a seven year odyssey to manage to finally read and enjoy, once I was able to appreciate its subtlety.

I couldn't handle a subtle message once upon a time because it flew over my head. And without such understanding, the story lost meaning and as such, becomes meaningless, leading me to give up on the book because I perceived nothing there that was compelling or made sense. There was nothing there to keep me wanting to see what happened next.

That's no longer the case now. And I'm glad for it because I can definitely see now why it's such a highly acclaimed book. Now hopefully this will help me get through Sailing to Sarantium on a later date.