anjali

dear God is this novel a chore. The book is basically just one thing over and over and over again throughout. Poetry reading, getting drunk, fucking. Rinse and repeat.

[I have a new website where I review awesome books & more! http://unlearner.com]

I wanted to like Ender's Game. I really did. It's a wonder that even after more than halfway into the book, I still clung on to the foolishly optimistic notion that the book would somehow redeem itself. That it would end up justifying the tedious, repetitive, drearily dull chapters I trundled through over the course of several days (which is unusual, since I'm generally a fast reader).

It pains me to say it, as a hardcore fangirl of science fiction, that one of sci-fi's most beloved and highly regarded novels did not do it for me. Actually, that is understating it. While I'm at it, I'll just duck and blurt it out: I loathed Ender's Game.

Deep breaths. Let that sink in. Let the hate flow through you. Good, strike me down...I am unarmed.

Okay. Now let's get to it.

Was it because the expectations I had in my mind were unreasonably high and thus were responsible for ruining the book for me? No way. I make no bones about the fact that Ender's Game, regardless of the respect and popularity it commands in sci-fi circles, is an inherently bad novel.

Why, though, you might ask. Why such vitriol for the book? Here you are, then.

1) Bad plotting: It didn't take me long to realise that after I was past Ender's arrival at the Battle School, every - literally every chapter thereon until his return to Earth - was more or less the same thing. Battle games, beating the shit out of kids, battle games, switching back and forth to Armies, battle games. It was so repetitive that I was exhausted at the end of every.single.chapter. Page after page after page of six year old, seven year old, eight year old Ender and his buddies zooming about in ships trying to freeze one another's socks off. Wheeee!

2) Lack of characterisation: There are no personalities. There are no motivations. You never learn anything about the characters except that they are the good guys or the bad guys. Ender is brilliant at everything. He NEVER loses. Not once. Bernard, Stilson and Co. are the bad guys. They're evil baddies cause dey r jealuz of ender's brilliance omg!!! That's it. No background, no depth, no internal conflicts. No motivation. Words cannot express how two-dimensional and woefully lacking in personality the characters are.

3) Demosthenes and Locke. What the heck was that all about? I appreciate Card's prescience about the ‘Nets' and blogging before it was around, but come on, this is pushing it a bit too far. How, I beg you, how are we supposed to take the idea that a pair of kids end up taking the world by posting in online forums and blogging?

As if we people of the internet didn't have enough delusions of grandeur already. ;)

4) Now, this really gets my goat:I had to wait for the last 20 pages to get information that was of any worth to the story at all. I'm talking about Mazer's Rackham explaning the buggger's communications system to Ender. As for the ‘twist ending': I honestly, and I mean, honestly did not find that riveting. It was predictable and, worse, did not justify all that I had to read to make my way to the end.

5)Also: It was hard to feel for Ender. I say this as a high-school nerd in my own day, as the reviled and hated and made-fun-of socially awkward kid who wanted to be good at whatever they did. But that doesn't make me any more sympathetic to Ender. Honestly, I fail to see what's so great about Ender anyway. I am so infuriated at Card for this. Apart from Ender's claim to intelligence (which is never completely explained, by the way) there is nothing, NOTHING, that is worth justifying him as the protagonist of one of scifi's supposedly best books ever. Yes, he loves his sister Valentine. Yes, he doesn't want to hurt people. Yes, he goes ahead and does it anyway. Again and again. (Ending up murdering two school boys in the process. Uhm, major wtf there.)

I am rarely so caustic about the books I read, but this time I feel I am justified in doing so. I had such hopes for this book. Not impossibly high or anything. At the very least, I had expected to like it, you know? I remember, as I worked my way past chapters 4,5,7,10,14...I expected it to get better. I expected myself to be mistaken at the initial dissatisfaction, then incredulity, then mild annoyance and then a string of sad sighs and resignation to dislike. Alas, I wasn't mistaken. I felt betrayed. I thought this book was right up there with those ‘kindred ones', you know? The sort of books you can come back to again and again. Instead, what I got was a bad plotline, progressively unrealistic plot developments, and a cast of flat, lifeless, unpleasant characters to boot. Ender's Game, how I wish I had loved you. Why did you forsake me thus.

I first devoured these stories and novels at the age of fourteen, curled up in my room on winter nights. It was a long winter, I remember. It was also quite a long book. Few points in my life have had circumstances come together and arrange themselves in such an agreeable manner so as to make a reading experience as memorable as this one.

Like most readers, I entered the world of Sherlock Holmes - at once stretching between the streets of London with in all its vividness, to the deeper, richer world beyond - into the mind of the man whose name this novel bears - with A Study In Scarlet. And from then on, there was no turning back.

Sherlock Holmes stories are interesting and endlessly entertaining. I still remember the initial scepticism (much like our dear Dr. Watson) and then the increasing awe and astonishment with which I read Holmes' descriptions of Dr. Watson without first having seen or heard of the man. (The awe and amazement that I speak of were provoked, of course, when Holmes explained how he deducted his findings. The findings were first greeted with scepticism when first pronounced in his typical, Holmes manner. ‘Every thing is simple once it's explained,' Holmes once famously complained.)

To this day I remain in awe of Holmes intellect, his passion for rigorous mental athletics, his laid back approach, his suaveness and his style. If there's one man to have come out of the Victorian era who had style - encompassing both his intellectual rigour and individual eccentricity - it's this beloved fictional detective who has entertained countless generations of readers for decades, and will for years to come.

I will always look back on the December of 2005 with fond recollections of the wonder, thrill, fear and ‘aha!' that I felt at various times, often simultaneously, and even after re-reads, while reading these stories.

There are few ways as good to spend long winter nights than escaping - for an escape is what these delicious stories offer us readers - into the adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Here's to Holmes and Watson!

The concept of a Martian - a human being by birth, but in essence, a Martian - rehabilitated on Earth is an arresting idea, and a great canvas. In Heinlein's work, this canvas is mainly coloured through lens of social commentary and a new moral philosophy that became a manifesto for the counter cultural movements of the 60s.

Although divided in 5 main parts, the novel can really be said to be composed of halves. The first half is where the narration is the focus, the story keeps moving and there is a real sense of ‘happening.' The second half lags in terms of action but brings out the core concepts and ideas of the novel in full, successively developing from satire, taking on government and civilisation, to the formulation of a new philosophy which underlined the beginning of the Free Love movement that came in later in the decade.

Typically, Heinlein employs the use of two main characters as the main propogator's of his thought and ideas. They are, of course, Jubal Harshaw and Mike himself.

Sex

The core of Heinlein's philosophy lies in sex, and how sex is perceived and ought to be perceived amongst humanity. When Mike, the man from Mars discovers that human beings share something that has no equivalent in the Martian culture, he is fascinated. On Mars, there is no distinction of ‘male' and ‘female' as such. The female equivalents are mere ‘nymphs', who, by any accounts, do not figure into much prominence. However, as Mike discovers, things are different on Earth. Men and women co-exist. The male and the female are distinct, yet harmonise with each other. Sex is the basis for this harmony, the basis for all humanity. Sex is important. Sex is good.

This is where Heinlein goes a step further for his time; his attitude towards sex in belief and practice were radically different from existing social norms for his time. To Heinlein, and consequently Mike, sex is not a commodity, to be hoarded and practised in the privacy of two individuals behind closed doors. Instead, sex is shared goodness, to be given and taken and exchanged at large. Where Mike comes from, jealousy as a concept does not exist. This lack of jealousy, lack of possessiveness manifest themselves in his attitude towards sex. Because jealousy doesn't exist, polygamy is no problem.

Jubal explains Mike philosophy in contrast with religious indictments. The Bible declares: Though shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife. But this, as Jubal wryly observes, is a natural impossibility. As long as men continue to live, they continue to be subject to their desires, whether physical or otherwise. Mike and his philosophy are exactly opposite. What the Church is saying is don't eye your neighbour's wife, full stop. What Mike is saying is: You want to covet my wife? Take her! And have some good rocking sex while you're at it.

For Mike, sex isn't off-hands and restricted between two people. Love and sex, intertwined as they are, deserve to be shared among people, their goodness shared across all people in the Nest.
Far from something to be ashamed of or to be guilty about, sex was a goodness, to be cherished and enjoyed and shared.

Of course, this is almost a line-by-line blue print of the hippie movement that came in later during the 60s. This book was published much before it happened, and was there just at the right time when it did. The Free Love movement of the 1960s underscores Mike's philosophy.

Heinlein's thesis of religion

While everyone was busy having orgies, it did not escape Heinlein to incorporate commentary on religion as well. This he does through the portrayal of the religious order, the Fosterites, who are of the Christian denomination but differ widely in essentials. While Christians unnecessarily torment themselves with original sin, Fosterites embrace it, accept it, and get ready to put it behind themselves. The ultimate aim of life according to Fosterites is to be happy.

Heinlein criticises Christianity's doublespeak. Christianity and Islam are quick to mete out judgement to their followers, to dictate moral, social, political and sexual rules and judgments to their followers. Yet, at the same time, their scriptures are full of inconsistencies and sexual deviance. A case in point in Lot's offering of his two virgin daughters to a mob banging on his door. Lot trades his young daughters so as to have ‘the mob stop banging on the door.' This is the God who complies with such an act, who rewards this morality while simultaneously frowning upon a million other things. Such a God is a hypocrite.

Fosterism then, as a religion seeks to eliminate this bias, to do away once and for all with the doublespeak and hypocrisy of religion. However, their unabashed glorying in happiness and hedonistic pleasure is initially disquieting to Jubal and Jill.

Conclusion

I can see why Stranger in a Strange land became such a landmark novel when it was published. It must have provoked and outraged and shocked people of its time - it still does today, in certain places and among certain people. However, any hope of life on Mars, our direct neighbour, let alone a civilisation as highly advanced as the one portrayed in the novel, in light of successive Martian expeditions over the decades is rendered unrealistic at best.

There are also some major flaws with the book, most particularly Heinlein's portrayal of women. Women are either shown as passive and ‘go-along-with-what-he's-saying-and-doing', like Miriam, Dorcas and Anne, or manipulative and controlling, like Mrs. Douglas and Patty and, to some extent, Jill. My main gripe with Heinlein was Jill saying, ‘Nine out of ten times, when a woman gets raped, it's her own fault.'

However, all these things considered, the redeeming hallmarks of Stranger are its social commentary and its original ideas about religion and civilisation, which, in the post-60s, post-hippiedom world might strike us as tired and tested, but which were strikingly original and timely for the time it was published in. If you can put aside the 50s-60s attitudinal drawbacks behind, this is a quintessential science fiction read.

I love it when a book leaves me unsure about how to classify it. This book meshes history, religion, politics, and a dash of science fiction. No damn cat, and no damn cradle!

I think that the sense of absurdism is exactly what makes this novel so good (and deeply profound in its own way). If Vonnegut had gone about this book in a way that favoured the serious, heavy approach over the witty, seemingly effortless and light, satirical approach, we would have had another boring old story full of rights and wrongs and and nothing new to offer. It is, instead, irreverent and with liberal helpings of irony and stony, low-key humour. I think that's the greatest thing about Vonnegut: he never takes himself too seriously. And he trusts his readers enough to read into his story without spelling everything out for them.

Of course, I would be a doing this book a disservice by not mentioning Bokononism. It certainly struck me as interesting. I enjoyed the Calypsos, in particular: ‘Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder, ‘Why, why, why?' Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand.' Regarding the philosophy of Bokononism itself, I thought the concept of Fomas - harmless untruths - was a brilliant touch.

In terms of plot, I think the book forgets itself at times and takes liberties on the narrative front. This is partly what makes it much more effective, in my opinion, because that way you're in for several surprises throughout the book. There are things you absolutely do not see coming. We start off with Jonah, and when I first started reading the book I expected it to be about him. But what I found was that the book was more about everything and everyone else - the Hoennikkers and the Castles and Monzanas and Crosbys and Mintons, San Lorenzo, religion, the End of the World - than about Jonah himself. I realised I don't know Jonah at all, except that he loved Mona. And that he was a writer.

The most interesting moments are in the second half of the book, in particular those relating to McCabe and Lionel Boyd Johnson, ‘Papa' Monzano's religion (and that of everybody else in San Lorenzo), and of course, the worms-and-tornadoes-bit - which I absolutely did NOT see coming. At the oubliette part, I was mystified for a moment...Wait, how did we get to this from that?

The End of the World is a topic interesting enough on its own; and, depending on how its handled, a laughably bad or an immensely brilliant basis of the story. This book falls in the latter category: the wonderful thing about Cat's Cradle is that, though the book starts off with the writer documenting the End of the World, it is towards the end that you see the real End coming. And even then, it's not what you would expect.

If you can get over the initial sense of slight incredulity, this book will truly stand out as the brilliant read it is. If you don't take this book too seriously, you will at once get more out of it, and what's more, you will find it profound too. Its deceptively light, not-too-serious tone underlies its real depth and meaning.

Oh, this book is a trip. A children's story, no doubt, but a re-read at 17 actually left me open mouthed at its deceptive status as a ‘mere children's books.' Lots of hidden symbolism, meaning and metaphor, fun wordplay and overall just a delight to read. ‘Not just a children's book.' This one is very, very clever. How many people know that Lewis Carroll (actual name Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) was also a mathematician?

Dune. What can I even say about this book except that it's one of the best books I've ever read.

This is a book layered heavily with politics, economics, geology, philosophy, religion and mythology. The term ‘science fiction' alone doesn't do justice to it.

Frank Herbert's writing is splendid as well. I especially enjoyed the internal dialogue technique that he employs to often. It makes me feel like I'm in the head of the characters, hearing their thoughts and experiencing the situation firsthand.

This book is full of great sequences and scenes and characters. How can you not love characters like Thufir Hawat, Jessica, Gurney Halleck, The Duke Leto Atriedes, Stilgar, and even the Baron Harkonnen?

The story is dotted with references and allusions to religion, embedded with philosophical queries and an excellent study in politics and ecology.

I love Dune.

Bertrand Russel's mental rigour and eloquence is abundant throughout this book as he writes about things people have taken for granted for centuries, and casts them in an entirely new light.

One of the very first books on the Holocaust I read, which since then I have made a subject for my study for years. The book revolves around ten year old Bruno, whose father works for the Fuhrer in the army, and his new found friend, Shmuel, the Jewish kid from the other side of the barb wire. Bruno and Shmuel begin to share a wonderful friendship, and reality has a way of getting in the way of things like friendships. The ending left me outraged and heartbroken.

Read when I was a kid; not amongst my absolute favourite Shakespeare plays (that title belongs to Hamlet or King Lear), but entertaining.

Awful book. Narrative all over the place, characters are a haze of blurry, one-dimensional, half-hearted caricatures, who seldom ever feel like real characters. The story is also outrageously lacking in terms of real plot development. I can understand that, especially when it comes to ‘literary fiction'; however, as much as it pains me to say this, I found nothing literary about this book. Horribly over-rated.

It's informative (YAY science) but also really well written. Just one of those books that changes your way of looking at the world. Magnificent in scope, perfect in execution. VERY highly recommended.

This is one of those books that are so intense that reading them consumes you. By the time you are done with this book, you will put it down feeling some part of you was taken away and some of the book put back in.

First of all, it is beautifully written. Khaled Hosseini's writing is pure and - although I hate the cliche - it feels like it comes straight from the heart. It's so unpretentious and kind.

Secondly, the characters. The way they develop throughout the book, they take a life of their own. You find yourself becoming anxious at various points in the book, almost holding the breath back in until you're sure the characters are all right. That's powerful story telling right there.

What I also liked about reading this book is that it gave me new insight into the Afghanistan culture. This is my second Khaled Hosseini book, so I had something already to start off with, but it was interesting to get another perspective nevertheless. I've always enjoyed learning about other cultures all that I can, so that is an added bonus.

This is also one of the books to have made me cry. And when that happens, you know you're reading a good book.

A collection of letters from a mother to her six children. The letters are funny, thoughtful and at times touching. It was unnerving to see many of the things that so troubled and bothered my fourteen year old self set down, in plain sight, discussed, laughed at, and made easier by, of all people, a gasp parent. I cherished this book very much when I was fourteen, it made me laugh and think. These letters definitely deserve a wider audience.

An excellent collection of essays, letters and other writings about atheism collected by none other than Hitch.

The book is dedicated to Primo Levi:

Dedicated to the memory of Primo Levi (1919–1987) who had the moral fortitude to refuse false consolation even while enduring the “selection”process in Auschwitz:“Silence slowly prevails and then, from my bunk on the top row, I see and hear old Kuhn praying aloud, with his beret on his head, swaying backwards and forwards violently. Kuhn is thanking God because he has not been chosen.Kuhn is out of his senses. Does he not see Beppo the Greek in the bunk next to him, Beppo who is twenty years old and is going to the gas-chamber the day after tomorrow and knows it and lies there looking fixedly at the light without saying anything and without even thinking anymore? Can Kuhn fail to realize that next time it will be his turn? Does Kuhn not understand that what has happened today is an abomination,which no propitiatory prayer, no pardon, no expiation by the guilty, which nothing at all in the power of man can ever clean again?If I was God, I would spit at Kuhn's prayer.”

- Primo Levi, If This Is A Man

This was so horrendously bad that I had forgotten all about having read this book. I guess my brain was trying to subconsciously suppress the memory of it. However, my brain, being the way it is, just as well randomly popped this book up at me on a Monday evening, because that is the sort of thing my brain likes to do.

NOTHING about the book you might initially read, see or hear about would remotely suggest the level of bad-ness this book entails. I read this on a recommendation of a friend's, and since then I have been more than wary with recommendations, especially in instances where they involve vapid prose detailing badly written sex scenes as gimmicks.

As for the ‘historical fiction' angle, forget about it. You'd be better off with ‘Let's Learn Numbers!' or ‘My First Book of Alphabet' to get better enlightenment instead.

My love for this book is endless.

There are in a lifetime only so many books you can read, and out of those fewer are still that make your head their home, that affect you in more ways than one, and that stay with you long after the last page has been turned.

This is one of those books.

This was my first Charlotte Bronte book (who is now one of my favourite authors, and whose work I have since eagerly perused like a kid at a candy store years ago.)

Jane as a character is unbelievable: she just barely manages to contain herself between the covers of the book, at times she threatens to leap out of the paper. That is how splendidly written this book is.

Funny, irreverent, and totally absurd, this book takes the most taken-for-granted and commonplace assumptions about the Universe and twists them, knocking everything on its heard and spinning a nonsensical tale of immense sense.