Anna
Rally wanted to like this because I love the story of Joan of Arc but unfortunately I didn't believe a word of this. I'm totally on board with necromancy and genetically-enhanced humans interfacing with walls but Lamarckian evolution? New species forming over a single generation? Humans ‘evolving' through walking over a rocky terrain for a very long time? Get outta here.
5/2017
On second read this book is still my perfect 10.
***
I guess Patrick White is relatively obscure (?) despite his Nobel win — a baffling fact, unless it's just me who'd hardly heard of him despite being what you'd call a ‘serious' (though non-academic/civilian) reader.
This is easily one of my favourite books of all time so far. Every sentence of ‘Voss' is hyper-polished, often delightfully surprising and hilarious in an OH, BURN! way — he shows his characters no mercy, always finding something rotten in even the most outwardly noble figures. It would have been quite nasty if it wasn't so on point (the book is about Victorians after all), and anyway, who doesn't love a magnificent, vivisecting jerk of a narrator? (If you don't secretly love arrogance, don't read White, I guess)
‘Voss' is refreshingly homoerotic — it's all about dudes trying to be close with other dudes, admiring each other's teeth and manes, touching each other's knees, huddling close by campfire. At the same time, what we'd today call ‘fragile masculinity' is a major source of humour in ‘Voss' — not surprisingly, considering White's struggle with his contemporaries' attitudes towards his homosexuality (according to the introduction to the Everyman's Library edition, White felt hounded into an outsider status because of it, and as tragic as that is, it definitely gave a wonderful, bitter dimension to his observations on society).
I'm not sure how ‘out' he was in his lifetime, but it's interesting that despite the book's obvious homoeroticism he decided to make the protagonist's love interest a woman — but in that choice, he created a deeply convincing, complicated female character (and if, as I suspect, she was initially written as a man, ‘Voss' proves definitely just how effective the method of giving male characters female names can be for a male writer who struggles to identify with the female perspective — all other female characters in the book are quite weak and stereotypically ‘female').
The longer I sit on it the more I lean towards giving it 5 stars — my only problem with this book, which I found to be engagingly written, structurally interesting in an unaffected, cinematic way, and complex in its treatment of the genre, was the extent of Dustin's delusion which would at times really beggar belief. Then again, I know so many people who are just as easily fooled by ostensible lack of randomness. Psychologists should know better though, right?
Also, the amount of creepy in this book is... wow. The author's been generous with it (saltbae.gif). I wouldn't quite call the book scary, but its horrors are all too relatable. The characters could've been saved from so much trouble if they only talked to each other! But they're human so they can't!! Because communicating is fucking hard. And Chaon is really good at writing familial dysfunction of the common sort, just as good as he is at making you feel the choke of the character who is trying and failing to form a response in a situation where a thoughtful response could immediately turn that character around on his path towards BAD SHIT.
Actually I'm taking a star off because I really wanted to read Jill's therapist's letter in full, I mean COME ON CHAON, YOU CAN'T TEASE US LIKE THAT).
I read Sonora while in Phoenix and I tip my hat to the author for how accurately and magically she conjures up the particular feverish weirdness of the Sonoran desert.
Though I feel like I've heard this story many times before, I've never heard it told quite like this. Will keep an eye on this promising author.
At first I was like: what the hell did I just read O_o
There's really nothing I can compare H&C to. It's like a book equivalent of the International Assassin episode of The Leftovers (incidentally my favourite episode of television in probably ever) but even that's a stretch because H&C is a hell of a lot crazier.
But it's also so good it almost made me pass on in-flight entertainment (I paused reading it only once about halfway through the 7h flight to watch Lethal Weapon, after which Dr Rubin had Gary Busey's face). This is the absolute pinnacle of compliments in my toolkit.
A book of hard truths about living the creative life. I can't think of any other book that would be as good as this one on the process of generating ideas and how a mind becomes possessed with them until they are fully realised. Very, very good writing, but a slow read, especially the last few pages.
I would have liked this to be a lot longer – even more fun bird facts please!
The author really likes her bird puns but mercifully she dials them down a bit after the first couple of chapters.
It's great to see that the trend against anthropomorphism-phobia is growing strong among science writers (and some scientists). Observations based on the assumption that animal intelligence is likely different from human intelligence in degree rather than in kind have so much more explanatory power. Also, they're just a lot more interesting. Songbirds sing and bowerbirds build in order to attract mates, yes, but that tells us about as much about their psychology and is about as interesting as an analogous observation made about humans would be. Ackerman points out that the songbird gets a big shot of dopamine when he nails a song particularly well – and she's not afraid to surmise that this likely means that he gets a kick out of being awesome regardless of the outcome in the romantic department. She admits that it's not unreasonable to suspect the satin bowerbird of possessing a sense of artistry (I mean COME ON) given how much time he spends perfecting (admiring?) his own creation and learning his craft.
I like to ponder the fact that we're all robots programmed by evolution, trapped in the illusion of free will, and deluded about our own significance as much as the next person, but when it comes to books about animals I'd much rather hear from scientists who are drawn to questions and theories about animal internality and subjective experience.
I found it thematically very similar to Miriam Toews' All My Puny Sorrows: the ethics of suicide, genetic burden, transgenerational trauma are major themes in both. Imagine might lack the eloquence of Sorrows but I found it structurally more elegant. The fact that both books feature chronically depressed characters who are obsessed with music is interesting considering Michael's (the protagonist of Imagine) driving theory.
*EDIT
Changed to 5 stars because I still regularly think about it 10 months (& multiple novels) later.
This is now my most-highlighted book of fiction. Usually I can pick a definite favourite out of a book of short stories, plus several runners-up. Here I ended up with this:
(http://68.media.tumblr.com/516e5a281cb43d6b014e433b94a31fb9/tumblr_ohgcwl4edo1qe6s13o1_1280.jpg)
Berlin's stories are largely autobiographical, though fictionalised to some degree (or exaggerated, as she herself admits), and there are several third-person stories in this collection that seem to be fully fictional. She's so much stronger in the former though; her own first-person voice creates a character who's a keen observer, kind in her judgement of others, often nostalgic, and always just so recognisably cool. Cooler than any of her contemporaries, which makes it so hard to grasp why it took so long for her to find her audience.
Another distinctive feature of Berlin is her lack of elitism: for most of her life she worked lower-middle-class and working-class jobs, and her strongest stories are set in emergency rooms, clinics and laundromats. It's a good reminder of the perspective that is lost to literature now that almost all published writers teach MFA degree courses.
I'm really glad that I got out of my comfort zone to read this. On the surface it sounded similar to Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell which I hated (Regency London, English manners, wizards). Also, dragons, witches, sorcerers and other fantasy staples have not been my usual fare since my Great Fantasy Overload of the late 90s (wherein I ticked off all of LeGuin, Tolkien, Dragonlance and various lesser D&D offshoots... don't judge). Zen Cho's online personality had really charmed me though and I wanted her to have some of my money.
And what a good decision that was! This book is hilarious, impressively written, well paced, entertaining and very, very satisfying (actually, it's downright righteous as hell!).
Read if you're partial to fun & feminism, definitely avoid if you think that white dudes being in charge of everything is the best idea.
Always on board for a book that references my favourite movie ever, John Carpenter's The Thing (and in such an awesome way! omg).
Also, I'm not sure if it's just my edition or if Tremblay adds notes and book/film recommendations to all his novels (I'm about to find out though) but it's the greatest, nerdiest idea ever and should be made obligatory.
This book is basically the Stranger Things for horror nerds.
I thought I could stomach reading about even the worst social taboos fairly easily but it turns out that an incestuous father-daughter relationship is where I draw the line.
The Sport of Kings is clever, obviously ambitious, at times awkwardly earnest, but very skilfully and artfully put together. I think I “get” it, but the incestuous father-daughter relationship which the author never seems to really condemn, never making anyone pay for that particular crime, making us witness their exchanges, the ‘beloved daddy's and the lack of overall horror of the two people involved, and ending on a “slavery was super bad, and white supremacy is super bad, oh and also, as quick aside, maybe don't groom and rape your daughter? kthx” note still makes the whole completely unsavoury for me.
I appreciate the dedication though.
