Savage Readalong – Week 1

Well, I’m a few days behind the rest of the gang.

In fact, my reading will probably be quite slow for the rest of the month and I may not finish any of the 4 or 5 books I’ve started before April. Two weeks ago my grandmother had surgery for cancer, but her prognosis is poor. The day after her surgery, my grandfather had a heart attack while visiting. He died in the operating room last Wednesday. Those of you reading along on Facebook know this already. Obviously, that’s been what I’ve been thinking about, not my reading. And my duties are not yet ended.

Nevertheless, I have not put aside the books. I just will be playing catchup for a bit. Better late than not at all.

What’s my impression of The Savage Detectives so far (at page 75 or so)? Not really impressed yet. Not driven away either though. Bolaño can write; he can move things along pretty well. But I’m not so enamored with the characters, particularly García Madero, the narrator. He’s a young kid at university, living with his parents and without any real world experience. He falls in with a group of ne’er-do-well poets and general layabouts who call themselves the visceral realists. García Madero drifts from person to person, looking for a place in the world vicariously. The secondary characters have not yet been fleshed out.

I do like one secondary character, Maria Font. She’s a willful girl who sleeps around. I like that she doesn’t apologize for seeking pleasure, and she asserts herself with the men she beds. So far, I’m not too happy with how the characters treat her though. Several of the boys in the story pejoratively call her a slut and act as if her behavior is less savory than their own participation. Typical male, of course. Roberto Bolaño isn’t writing anything that’s untrue.

I read somewhere that this is a Huck Finn story from a South American Spanish perspective, but I’m not seeing the similarity yet. Perhaps later.

Categories: Reading Life.

The Knife of Never Letting Go / Patrick Ness

Cover of The Knife of Never Letting Go
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This review contains some minor spoilers.

Sometimes a young adult book is just the thing. The last week has been particularly hellacious for me. Starting a couple months after my mom died in 2008, I’ve devoted a significant amount of time to assisting my grandparents with their daily living. During that time I’ve made well over a dozen trips to the emergency room for my grandfather’s heart condition, and lately because Gram’s been bleeding. That bleeding turned out to be cancer, for which she had surgery Tuesday. Wednesday while visiting Gram, Gramps had a heart attack. Since then, he’s been on the 7th floor while Gram is on the 11th. That’s really just the tip of the stress that I’ve been under this week.

I bring that up because I was faced with a choice of what reading to bring along while staying with them Sunday (before the surgery). I’m slated to begin reading Bolano’s The Savage Detectives starting next week and thought about starting early, but something of that complexity didn’t seem to be a good idea. One thing about young adult books is that they don’t usually require a whole lot of deciphering. That’s not to say they are one-dimensional; The Knife of Never Letting Go is a great counter-example for that accusation. But a young adult novel only rarely makes a reader re-read portions just to figure out what’s going on. When stressed out and having to get one’s reading done in short increments, a complicated plot or narrative style is not welcome.

The premise behind the first book in Ness’ Chaos Walking series is audacious. On the colony New World, all animals and men broadcast their thoughts 24 hours a day. Ness’ comments about his idea was that the ubiquity of information from email, Twitter, and the like was overwhelming. Then take that to the nth degree, where their thoughts can’t be turned off like the digital world can be. Not only can’t men stop broadcasting their thoughts, but no one else can really stop listening either. It’s like noise (capitalize that for the purposes of this book).

The next twist to throw into that mix is that only men broadcast their thoughts. Women do not. They are forced to hear everyone’s Noise, but their own minds are their own. This aspect of Noise is the key to the book winning the James Tiptree Award. Obviously, just that in and of itself wouldn’t be enough, but Ness bases a lot of gender role social commentary on it, and does it very well.

Todd Hewitt is the youngest boy in Prentisstown, a small settlement on the edge of a swamp. No women live in the town. Todd is told that there was a war against the native Spackle when he was a child, that Spackle released a virus that caused Noise and killed the women. One of the first things that we find out that people can lie despite their thoughts being broadcast. Instead of just censoring what you say, you have to censor what you think. A listener can tell you aren’t exactly forthcoming, but won’t know what’s true. Of course, censoring one’s thoughts isn’t exactly easy.

Anyway, the plot of the book kicks off when Todd Hewitt senses a blank spot in the swamp. Something that isn’t emitting Noise. On reporting this to his guardians (his mother died in the war with all the other women), they immediately dig up a backpack for him and tell him to run. Prentisstown has a secret that the boys aren’t told until they become men, and his knowing this blank spot exists will trigger bad shit beforehand.

On his way out of town running through the swamp, Todd runs into the blank spot again. And it’s a girl, crash-landed from a space ship bringing more settlers. She doesn’t emit Noise. She joins him on the run from Prentisstown, on what quickly turns into a hero-quest-like plot.

There’s a lot to like here. The big draw, of course, is the examination of gender roles. Todd’s grown up with all sorts of ideas about men and women told to him exclusively by men. Which really isn’t too far off from how boys are raised in America. The men of Prentisstown have some odd ideas about women. Todd overhears much about big bosoms and dirty deeds. Idealized women, where the ideals aren’t exactly ideal.

Running across the planet with the crash-landed girl, Todd has to revise some of what he thinks about his place. When he starts off, he doesn’t listen very well. He’s pretty narcissistic. He doesn’t question himself much either, though he does beat himself up after he screws up. He assumes all sorts of things about the girl. Of course, he can’t read her thoughts. On the other hand, she can read his. She doesn’t have to assume anything about him. She knows. But Todd doesn’t only ignore her, he even ignores his dog. He can hear Manchee’s thoughts, though the dog isn’t smarter than any other dog. But he is good at warning Todd of approaching people, friend or foe. Todd doesn’t listen though. He stupidly assumes the dog is stupidly just wanting to pee again.

The MacGuffin of the quest is a safe place for Todd, the girl, and Manchee. But the real point is to watch Todd grow up by encountering and overcoming (or sometimes not overcoming) obstacles along the way. As quests go, the hurdles fit pretty well with the storyline, rather than seem random and disconnected like some hero quest stories. Their timing, however, feels much too much like a construct. Everything seems to happen at exactly the right or the wrong moment.

There’s one big issue touched on that isn’t really explored or resolved in this first volume of the series. The first are the native Spackle. Colonization of a place that others live is a well explored trope, but I can’t help but think Ness can bring something to the table on that front after seeing his treatment of gender issues. The ubiquitous Noise could really make that interaction interesting, particularly given the reasons for the war with the Spackle in the first place. Possibly less interesting morally will be what happens when the new set of colonists arrive.

I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the entries in this series.

Title: The Knife of Never Letting Go
Author: Patrick Ness
Series: Chaos Walking; 1
Imprint / publisher: Candlewick Press
Format: Hardcover
Length: 479 p.
Publication date: 2008
ISBN-13: 978-0-7636-3931-0

Categories: Book Reviews.

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Savage Read-along

So I’m doing something I’ve only rarely done before online: I’m joining something book blogging related. I am not a joiner by nature. I am somewhat of a loner. I love talking about books, but there are lots of little things about a lot of the book blogging universe that aren’t for me. Mind you, these things aren’t bad (usually). Just not for me. Challenges, for instance. I don’t get ‘em. I understand why other people do them, but I know I would chafe under the weight of the number of book challenges I see some bloggers join, as well as losing the spontaneity in choosing my books to read.

So, what am I doing? The Bibliolatrist is hosting a read-along for Roberto Bolaño’s The Savage Detectives. The more literary of the blogs I follow (such as Three Percent and Conversational Reading for example) have been touting Bolaño for a while now. I am not particularly literary, but I dabble now and then. I’ve wanted to see what this was all about for a while. But I needed a spark, I guess. Bibliolatrist’s read-along seemed perfect.

The read-along schedule is not aggressive: 9 weeks at about 75 pages per week, starting tomorrow. If the text turns out to be difficult (Bibliolatrist says not so far) I can easily keep up with that. I hope. I wasn’t able to maintain that for another translated work, Ričardas Gavelis Vilnius Poker.

Anyhoo, follow along and see how this works out for me. Point and laugh. Or join in.

Categories: Reading Life.

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Burn / James Patrick Kelly

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When DailyLit.com went free a few months ago, the science fiction section looked a little thin. What’s there is dominated by Cory Doctorow books. However, DailyLit.com did have Burn by James Patrick Kelly. I took it as an opportunity to read something by him that’s a little longer than the short stories I’ve already read.

Laid up in a hospital after suffering injuries, Spur, a firefighter on a planet normally kept out of contact with other planets (the upside) has the opportunity to make unrestricted phone calls. Bored, he starts calling people who have his given name, Prosper Gregory Leung. One of them happens to be the High Gregory of Kenning, a member of the ruling class of the Thousand Worlds, but also still a child. Shortly thereafter, Spur is released from the hospital to spend compassionate leave with his family before he is to head back to fighting fires. The fires are actually part of a war between the pukpuks, a group opposed to the Transcendent State of Walden, which has spread a forest over the entirety of the planet. Walden is supposed to be a world of simplicity much like Thoreau’s Walden. The pukpuks start fires. The firefighters fight them. There doesn’t appear to be any direct fighting. But Spur’s phone call to the High Gregory has set in motion events a bit outside his control. The High Gregory comes to Walden to intervene in the war.

I much prefer stories like this that tell stories about clashes of countries from an individual perspective rather than from the the centers of power. This story is all from Spur’s perspective, and showcases a number of aspects. Spur and his standoffish relationship with his father. Spur meeting his wife, somewhat friendly but both are looking forward to the upcoming divorce. Spur both disliking the simple culture of his town, but not wanting to rock the boat by revealing the High Gregory to them as an outsider. And particularly Spur coming to terms with the fact that his best friend, his wife’s brother, was a torch who had switched sides to the pukpuks.

One part that didn’t especially move me was the Star Trek-like prime directive theme. That’s the idea of non-interference in someone else’s culture. It’s not exactly the same thing in Burn, just similar. In Burn, Walden has voluntarily secluded itself from the rest of the universe, directing it not to interfere in it’s internal affairs. I think the idea could be mined for excellent commentary on current political regimes that try to wall off their citizens from the rest of the world and prevent outsiders from interfering because how they treat their citizens is an internal affair. But Burn treats this very shallowly, as does a lot of science fiction that uses the trope.

Plot-wise, the story drags for the first half of the story but picks up midway. Spur mostly does a lot of thinking for the first half. Midway, the High Gregory arrives in Spur’s hometown of Littleton and stuff happens. People meet. Baseball is played.

I really liked the characters and the action and the setting and the story. But putting it all together I wasn’t overwhelmed. My mom used to serve casseroles consisting of leftovers from previous days all mixed together. When we protested, she would exclaim But you like everything I put in this earlier! This is almost like that. I like all the pieces, but am very middle of the road about the combination.

Title: Burn
Author: James Patrick Kelly
Imprint / publisher: DailyLit.com
Format: Daily email
Length: 52 installments
Publication date: 2005 (original publication)

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Away / Amy Bloom

Cover of Away (Sherrie Wolf)
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Well reviewed a few years ago, it turns out Amy Bloom’s Away is the kind of historical fiction that doesn’t have a lot of effect on me. The main character, Lillian Leyb, travels across North America in the mid-1920s so that she can get to Siberia where her daughter might be. I loved her character, but the story itself is a tale of repeated advancing and falling back. There’s some decent moral takeaways as well.

In the early parts of the book, Lillian Leyb is introduced as a Jewish immigrant in New York City. She’s unsentimental, other than a deep love for her dead child Sophia. She meets people, cares for them, and is willing to take on roles for them without much fuss. Beard for the gay Yiddish theater star, no problem. Lover to his father, no problem. She views much of her life almost as a business transaction. She becomes fond of many of the characters she meets, but her interaction is almost an exchange of services for her.

Then she finds out that the pogrom that drove her out of Russia might not have left her child dead. A new immigrant to New York City carries a story with her of a neighbor saving the child and adopting her as her own in Siberia. Lillian must go find her even if the story isn’t true. But both lovers fail to assist her, showing the pitfalls of transaction based loyalty. Her alternative to a steamship trip back across the Atlantic (which she cannot afford), is to travel to Alaska via Seattle, and from there to boat across the Bering Straight to Siberia. But without money, the trek is easier said than done.

This is not a story of an inexorably advancing fight against the odds. Lillian falls into situation after situation, usually coming out of them worse for the wear, though sometimes closer to the end of her journey. In some ways, this is nice to see in a story. It’s kind of the opposite of Eric Flint’s 1632 where everything works out for the protagonists. But it also makes for a depressing story.

I also found the moral ambiguity refreshing. Murder, sex, mistressing, prostitution, theft, death, abandonment. The characters perform these things, and don’t really dwell on whether they are damned to hell for doing so. Likewise when similar bad things happen to them, it isn’t an occasion for the gnashing of teeth. Stuff happens in the world and they pick up and move on to the next thing. A few of the characters have deep attachments to some of the other characters: Lillian to her child Sophie, Reuben Burstein to his son, Gumdrop to her cousin Snooky, and a few others. But even then when bad things happen, the character pick up and continue with their lives, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. Fiction often portrays the climaxes of stories as the completion of a person, but in real life, this is usually not so. We grieve when someone dies, we feel violated by theft or abandonment, but something else comes along in our lives and we deal. Away reflects this.

But while it may be fairly true to life in that respect, when the climax of a story isn’t a climax, it makes for a less than interesting plot. I enjoyed the characters very much, but since I’m a pretty plot-based reader, I couldn’t whole-heartedly enjoy the novel.


A few other blogged reviews:

Title: Away
Author: Amy Bloom
Cover creator: Sherrie Wolf (painter)
Imprint / publisher: Random House Trade Paperbacks
Format: Paperback
Length: 235 p.
Publication date: 2008
ISBN-13: 978-0-8129-779-0

Categories: Book Reviews.

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