Take a photo of a barcode or cover
bibilly's reviews
327 reviews
Senhor das Moscas by William Golding
adventurous
dark
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
"We're not savages. We're English."
o tipo de clássico cuja discussão posterior pode ser mais entusiasmante que o livro em si. eu não via a hora de terminá-lo e finalmente ser capaz de pegar referências a ele em outras obras (inclusive, uma das minhas próximas leituras será Wilder Girls, que dizem ser inspirado em Lord of the Flies). considerando a nota que tem aqui, suas 200 páginas de descrição imersiva de cenário entremeada de terror e simbolismo não impressionam com facilidade.
talvez alguns não se interessem por esse pacote tanto quanto eu, ou achem que ele não se sustenta ou que não justifica a redução de outros elementos, como caracterização e ritmo. no entanto, toda narrativa sob o ponto de vista de crianças deve ser mais desafiadora para seu autor que o normal; e preenchê-la com um elenco grande sem alongá-la no processo é aceitar que seus leitores não se importarão com a maioria dos personagens. além disso, até os protagonistas não foram feitos para serem indivíduos completos mas representações da condição humana (podendo ser interpretados sob a luz da psicanálise, por exemplo, como id, ego e superego), da sociedade civilizada e sua frágil democracia, da ideia cristã de pecado original etc. o maior erro técnico de William Golding fica sendo, então, o corte de progressão —notável principalmente por dividir um livro curto— depois do capítulo 5, meu favorito. os seguintes, além de anticlimáticos, me fizeram perceber que eu não esperava o fator "alucinação" entrar em jogo, mesmo se tratando de crianças isoladas numa ilha. de todo modo, em um livro que deixa óbvio que em algum momento os personagens começarão a se matar, torna-se fundamental saber quando e como golpear a fim de provocar o maior impacto possível, mas Golding deixa a peteca cair na segunda metade, que deveria nocautear o leitor, mais de uma vez. particularmente decepcionante a cena da qual o título deriva.
já o final me fez lembrar tardiamente de Peter Pan, o que por sua vez me fez perdoar em parte os excessos caricatos. nesta sátira de histórias de aventuras que se passam em ilhas —a qual inclusive tira os nomes dos seus protagonistas de um clássico do gênero intitulado Coral Island— os selvagens não são os nativos do pequeno paraíso e sim anjos ingleses que nele caíram. então, se para Peter Pan, que tem um problema de ritmo muito maior (ao ponto de não ser viável deixar uma criança lê-lo sozinha, porque o meio do livro é chatíssimo) e de racismo escancarado (a ponto de não ser muito seguro deixar uma criança lê-lo sozinha, porque ela vai precisar da conscientização de um adulto) eu dei 4 estrelas só por ter chorado com o final, acho justo ceder 4 aqui também.
pode-se argumentar, por outro lado, que Golding pinta um quadro sutilmente racista. raça não é o que divide os únicos moradores da ilha, sendo todos brancos de similar condição econômica. questões fundamentais da natureza humana fazem esse papel. na verdade, o autor fabrica uma miniatura do mundo externo no contexto da Segunda Guerra, um conflito muito distante e ao mesmo tempo muito próximo dos personagens. porém, à medida que a selvageria vai tomando conta do ambiente, o narrador faz uso cada vez mais de termos comumente relacionados a culturas indígenas (tribo, lança, caça, ritual, pintura corporal etc) para diferenciar os garotos. o exemplo mais contundente está na linha "Which is better—to be a pack of painted Indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is?"("indians" sendo traduzido para "negros" pela Alfaguara*, aparentemente de uma versão mais antiga em que "indians" era a n-word). em minha opinião, a consciência da nossa potente capacidade para aterrorizar e violentar uns aos outros, e de que é preciso muito pouco para que ela venha à tona, é o que permanece ao final.
agora, fora do campo das referências, outro título que passou pela minha mente durante a leitura foi Vidas Secas, dado o fato de os capítulos parecerem contos, ainda que não sejam tão independentes neste caso quanto naquele. isso facilita a divisão da leitura em um capítulo por dia ou entre obrigações para não ficar enfadonha, risco não tão baixo quanto deveria mesmo a obra tendo envelhecido até bem.
como aponta Stephen King em uma introdução para a Penguin, Senhor das Moscas é uma história sobre crianças para adultos, mas acho que se eu fosse mais nova, especialmente um menino mais novo como ele era quando a leu pela primeira vez, ela teria arrancado de mim uma reação mais visceral. ainda assim, me perguntei diversas vezes se eu não fui uma criança que também apertaria a concha gritando pelo seu direito de falar.
* não achei a tradução ruim, mas não concordo com algumas escolhas, como o uso excessivo de "gente" nos diálogos, o que quebra o clima de várias falas.
edit: infelizmente, a cena de conotações sexuais na qual Jack e sua trupe matam uma mãe porca torna-se ainda mais nojenta em retrospecto quando você descobre que o autor confessou ter tentado estuprar uma garota (três palavras no google oferecem uma lista de artigos).
o tipo de clássico cuja discussão posterior pode ser mais entusiasmante que o livro em si. eu não via a hora de terminá-lo e finalmente ser capaz de pegar referências a ele em outras obras (inclusive, uma das minhas próximas leituras será Wilder Girls, que dizem ser inspirado em Lord of the Flies). considerando a nota que tem aqui, suas 200 páginas de descrição imersiva de cenário entremeada de terror e simbolismo não impressionam com facilidade.
talvez alguns não se interessem por esse pacote tanto quanto eu, ou achem que ele não se sustenta ou que não justifica a redução de outros elementos, como caracterização e ritmo. no entanto, toda narrativa sob o ponto de vista de crianças deve ser mais desafiadora para seu autor que o normal; e preenchê-la com um elenco grande sem alongá-la no processo é aceitar que seus leitores não se importarão com a maioria dos personagens. além disso, até os protagonistas não foram feitos para serem indivíduos completos mas representações da condição humana (podendo ser interpretados sob a luz da psicanálise, por exemplo, como id, ego e superego), da sociedade civilizada e sua frágil democracia, da ideia cristã de pecado original etc. o maior erro técnico de William Golding fica sendo, então, o corte de progressão —notável principalmente por dividir um livro curto— depois do capítulo 5, meu favorito. os seguintes, além de anticlimáticos, me fizeram perceber que eu não esperava o fator "alucinação" entrar em jogo, mesmo se tratando de crianças isoladas numa ilha. de todo modo, em um livro que deixa óbvio que em algum momento os personagens começarão a se matar, torna-se fundamental saber quando e como golpear a fim de provocar o maior impacto possível, mas Golding deixa a peteca cair na segunda metade, que deveria nocautear o leitor, mais de uma vez. particularmente decepcionante a cena da qual o título deriva.
já o final me fez lembrar tardiamente de Peter Pan, o que por sua vez me fez perdoar em parte os excessos caricatos. nesta sátira de histórias de aventuras que se passam em ilhas —a qual inclusive tira os nomes dos seus protagonistas de um clássico do gênero intitulado Coral Island— os selvagens não são os nativos do pequeno paraíso e sim anjos ingleses que nele caíram. então, se para Peter Pan, que tem um problema de ritmo muito maior (ao ponto de não ser viável deixar uma criança lê-lo sozinha, porque o meio do livro é chatíssimo) e de racismo escancarado (a ponto de não ser muito seguro deixar uma criança lê-lo sozinha, porque ela vai precisar da conscientização de um adulto) eu dei 4 estrelas só por ter chorado com o final, acho justo ceder 4 aqui também.
pode-se argumentar, por outro lado, que Golding pinta um quadro sutilmente racista. raça não é o que divide os únicos moradores da ilha, sendo todos brancos de similar condição econômica. questões fundamentais da natureza humana fazem esse papel. na verdade, o autor fabrica uma miniatura do mundo externo no contexto da Segunda Guerra, um conflito muito distante e ao mesmo tempo muito próximo dos personagens. porém, à medida que a selvageria vai tomando conta do ambiente, o narrador faz uso cada vez mais de termos comumente relacionados a culturas indígenas (tribo, lança, caça, ritual, pintura corporal etc) para diferenciar os garotos. o exemplo mais contundente está na linha "Which is better—to be a pack of painted Indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is?"("indians" sendo traduzido para "negros" pela Alfaguara*, aparentemente de uma versão mais antiga em que "indians" era a n-word). em minha opinião, a consciência da nossa potente capacidade para aterrorizar e violentar uns aos outros, e de que é preciso muito pouco para que ela venha à tona, é o que permanece ao final.
agora, fora do campo das referências, outro título que passou pela minha mente durante a leitura foi Vidas Secas, dado o fato de os capítulos parecerem contos, ainda que não sejam tão independentes neste caso quanto naquele. isso facilita a divisão da leitura em um capítulo por dia ou entre obrigações para não ficar enfadonha, risco não tão baixo quanto deveria mesmo a obra tendo envelhecido até bem.
como aponta Stephen King em uma introdução para a Penguin, Senhor das Moscas é uma história sobre crianças para adultos, mas acho que se eu fosse mais nova, especialmente um menino mais novo como ele era quando a leu pela primeira vez, ela teria arrancado de mim uma reação mais visceral. ainda assim, me perguntei diversas vezes se eu não fui uma criança que também apertaria a concha gritando pelo seu direito de falar.
* não achei a tradução ruim, mas não concordo com algumas escolhas, como o uso excessivo de "gente" nos diálogos, o que quebra o clima de várias falas.
edit: infelizmente, a cena de conotações sexuais na qual Jack e sua trupe matam uma mãe porca torna-se ainda mais nojenta em retrospecto quando você descobre que o autor confessou ter tentado estuprar uma garota (três palavras no google oferecem uma lista de artigos).
Os Herdeiros by William Golding
challenging
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
no meio do livro eu já estava tão perdida quanto o neandertal mais burro da história, a cabeça um peso morto em cima do pescoço que nem o pobi do Lok repetindo "essa imagem eu não vejo" toda vez que alguém da família descreve algo abstrato demais para alguém sem testa e sem queixo. a diferença é que minha testa é enorme, então não tenho essa desculpa.
porém, admiro o esforço do autor em manipular a linguagem para (re)criar um estado mental extinto. seu experimento balança no ponto de convergência entre ficção, romantização e confirmação científica; e no final surpreende com duas mudanças de perspectiva a fim de provar que esse choque de espécies, ligadas pelo medo, se sustenta sob três ângulos distintos. embora contestável, o retrato desse confronto carrega autenticidade suficiente para se fazer convincente mesmo em 2023, quase sete décadas após a primeira publicação. interessante também como Os Herdeiros se afastam em premissa e ao mesmo tempo complementam em temática e argumento o Senhor das Moscas, primeiro livro do autor e antecessor deste.
só acho que Golding poderia ter sido um pouco mais direto em consideração aos meus genes neandertais, principalmente naquele meio quase intransponível; e que ele perdeu a grande chance de escrever um livro de terror pré histórico. chega a molhar os pés na água, mas desiste no meio do caminho. uma pena.
porém, admiro o esforço do autor em manipular a linguagem para (re)criar um estado mental extinto. seu experimento balança no ponto de convergência entre ficção, romantização e confirmação científica; e no final surpreende com duas mudanças de perspectiva a fim de provar que esse choque de espécies, ligadas pelo medo, se sustenta sob três ângulos distintos. embora contestável, o retrato desse confronto carrega autenticidade suficiente para se fazer convincente mesmo em 2023, quase sete décadas após a primeira publicação. interessante também como Os Herdeiros se afastam em premissa e ao mesmo tempo complementam em temática e argumento o Senhor das Moscas, primeiro livro do autor e antecessor deste.
só acho que Golding poderia ter sido um pouco mais direto em consideração aos meus genes neandertais, principalmente naquele meio quase intransponível; e que ele perdeu a grande chance de escrever um livro de terror pré histórico. chega a molhar os pés na água, mas desiste no meio do caminho. uma pena.
The Destroyer by Tara Isabella Burton
2.0
mad scientist uses her daughter as test subject in an alternative but still lifeless version of the Roman empire. will probably forget about it.
Pequenas Tiranias by Aline Valek
2.0
pequenas chatices. três contos que propõem um questionamento do automatismo cotidiano, mas que não saem do didatismo tão recorrente na ficção contemporânea. melhor reler a metamorfose.
The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
"the person who's come to my rescue is exactly who I expect: me."
before reading it, i could already appreciate The Space Between Worlds for simply not being another multiverse story about a perfect white man being taken away from his perfect white family. Micaiah Johnson chooses instead to tell us about plausible social implications of the multiverse. weaving an impressive prose for a debut author (take notes, Blake Crouch), she tackles tough topics without being preachy or letting her own voice leak through the characters's while defending her case —a considerable feat in a first-person narration that even some books in third-person can't accomplish. the casual bi rep was also a welcome surprise.
yet, you'd think a story about parallel worlds between which only the scum of society can travel would be more exciting than this. beyond the premise (no one can visit a version of Earth where their counterpart is still alive, so most privileged and sheltered people are unable to), the worldbuilding is misty and lackluster. there's nothing extremely wrong about it, but nothing exactly right either.
you can't complain about info dump here, as a reviewer did; on the contrary: you keep waiting for the author to get to the specifics (what war? which religion? why are the emperor's runners so loyal? does half of the city live in this endless building or am i tripping?) and she seldom does, so the portrayed cultures along with their history remain blurry images, more like parts of a lost island than of our future world. spending an entire book with these people isn't enough to get to know them well, because most characters' motivations, backstories and relationships are never fully explained or explored. showing her skill, Johnson naturally drops some info and hints along the way for the reader to follow and be able to make guesses; and, granted, it would be an amateur mistake to over-explain things in a first-person narration done by a character not at all strange to the setting and who only deals with people familiar with it as well. the vague exposition, however, is insufficient to ground the story and make it a standalone. like Mad Max Fury Road without the efficiency of Mad Max Fury Road. that movie gives an immersive glimpse of a post-apocalyptic world and its society; this book gives way more than a glimpse of a futuristic and dystopian Earth, but doesn't manage to fully immerse you in it, so the reader stays floating in open sea.
the romance makes it all more lifeless. since the story starts six years after the two women met at work, the relationship doesn't unfold; their connection, feelings and admiration are just stated again and again in a dispassionate example of telling-not-showing. besides, i didn't get why the protagonist was so interested in her stupidly rich superior, who she believed to be "classist to the bone" and "disgusted by the idea of her". understandable to feel attracted to the woman even while holding to this belief; being romantically invested in her from the get-go that i find weird. the mc has more chemistry with the religious version of her ex as well as his less aggressive alternative than with the love of her life.
now, my biggest problem with this book coincides with my biggest problem as a reader: my inability to continue to respect a strong main character once they start making dumb decisions for convenience or to further the plot. i can't take seriously any reasonable thing they think, do or say after that. [mild spoilers ahead] if the protagonist in question has always had everything and everyone against them and decides to play the hero in favor of the same people who have wronged them, causing a true friend or ally to suffer the consequences in their place, i might actually wish them to die so the book can end faster.
for that reason, The Space Between Worlds felt a bit too long, despite all the plot lines and plot holes the author wanted to fit into it. i couldn't fathom why a black woman who had been in survival mode her whole life suddenly cared so much about the super-rich's lives. the funny thing is that another character literally points out that these fuckers have let multiple genocides happen, and she's still like "nop, i don't care about any of that, im in my dumb mode now, ready to contradict everything my inner voice has made clear about me up until this point, even if it puts my whole family at risk". with all the discussion on identity and belonging —and the mc's relatable desire to get as far away as possible from her upbringing, a desire that doesn't stop her from missing home— it would make much more sense for her to feel obliged to do something if the threat she tries to fight were first and foremost against her people.
"you'd think someone who'd seen her own corpse would be smarter than that." my thoughts exactly.
and so the most likable characters ended up being a man named Nik Nik and another called Mr. Cheeks, both victims of wasted potential and anticlimactic storylines.
before reading it, i could already appreciate The Space Between Worlds for simply not being another multiverse story about a perfect white man being taken away from his perfect white family. Micaiah Johnson chooses instead to tell us about plausible social implications of the multiverse. weaving an impressive prose for a debut author (take notes, Blake Crouch), she tackles tough topics without being preachy or letting her own voice leak through the characters's while defending her case —a considerable feat in a first-person narration that even some books in third-person can't accomplish. the casual bi rep was also a welcome surprise.
yet, you'd think a story about parallel worlds between which only the scum of society can travel would be more exciting than this. beyond the premise (no one can visit a version of Earth where their counterpart is still alive, so most privileged and sheltered people are unable to), the worldbuilding is misty and lackluster. there's nothing extremely wrong about it, but nothing exactly right either.
you can't complain about info dump here, as a reviewer did; on the contrary: you keep waiting for the author to get to the specifics (what war? which religion? why are the emperor's runners so loyal? does half of the city live in this endless building or am i tripping?) and she seldom does, so the portrayed cultures along with their history remain blurry images, more like parts of a lost island than of our future world. spending an entire book with these people isn't enough to get to know them well, because most characters' motivations, backstories and relationships are never fully explained or explored. showing her skill, Johnson naturally drops some info and hints along the way for the reader to follow and be able to make guesses; and, granted, it would be an amateur mistake to over-explain things in a first-person narration done by a character not at all strange to the setting and who only deals with people familiar with it as well. the vague exposition, however, is insufficient to ground the story and make it a standalone. like Mad Max Fury Road without the efficiency of Mad Max Fury Road. that movie gives an immersive glimpse of a post-apocalyptic world and its society; this book gives way more than a glimpse of a futuristic and dystopian Earth, but doesn't manage to fully immerse you in it, so the reader stays floating in open sea.
the romance makes it all more lifeless. since the story starts six years after the two women met at work, the relationship doesn't unfold; their connection, feelings and admiration are just stated again and again in a dispassionate example of telling-not-showing. besides, i didn't get why the protagonist was so interested in her stupidly rich superior, who she believed to be "classist to the bone" and "disgusted by the idea of her". understandable to feel attracted to the woman even while holding to this belief; being romantically invested in her from the get-go that i find weird. the mc has more chemistry with the religious version of her ex as well as his less aggressive alternative than with the love of her life.
now, my biggest problem with this book coincides with my biggest problem as a reader: my inability to continue to respect a strong main character once they start making dumb decisions for convenience or to further the plot. i can't take seriously any reasonable thing they think, do or say after that. [mild spoilers ahead] if the protagonist in question has always had everything and everyone against them and decides to play the hero in favor of the same people who have wronged them, causing a true friend or ally to suffer the consequences in their place, i might actually wish them to die so the book can end faster.
for that reason, The Space Between Worlds felt a bit too long, despite all the plot lines and plot holes the author wanted to fit into it. i couldn't fathom why a black woman who had been in survival mode her whole life suddenly cared so much about the super-rich's lives. the funny thing is that another character literally points out that these fuckers have let multiple genocides happen, and she's still like "nop, i don't care about any of that, im in my dumb mode now, ready to contradict everything my inner voice has made clear about me up until this point, even if it puts my whole family at risk". with all the discussion on identity and belonging —and the mc's relatable desire to get as far away as possible from her upbringing, a desire that doesn't stop her from missing home— it would make much more sense for her to feel obliged to do something if the threat she tries to fight were first and foremost against her people.
"you'd think someone who'd seen her own corpse would be smarter than that." my thoughts exactly.
and so the most likable characters ended up being a man named Nik Nik and another called Mr. Cheeks, both victims of wasted potential and anticlimactic storylines.
Nove Ensaios Dantescos & A Memória de Shakespeare by Jorge Luis Borges
informative
medium-paced
3.0
a quantidade de cenas citadas e descritas das quais não tenho memória é mais impressionante (porém, não surpreendente) que os ensaios em si. acho que gostei mesmo só de uns quatro ou cinco. A Memória de Shakespeare, ao contrário do que pensei, não é outra coleção de ensaios e sim de quatro contos. infelizmente, só o primeiro —em que Borges se coloca como protagonista duplo e recebe do seu eu futuro e suicida a previsão da escrita do conto enquanto o narra— me fascinou; amo qualquer pitada de metalinguagem. por algum motivo a narração de Os Tigres Azuis me lembrou Lovecraft, o que foi meio angustiante e tedioso, pois detesto praticamente tudo que li dele; no entanto, o final misterioso me lembrou que sou burra e deveria me poupar de qualquer crítica a autores de renome. também não acho que tenha entendido A Rosa de Paracelso completamente, mas, perto d'As Elegias de Duíno, que também li neste segundo semestre, qualquer simbologia obscura parece cristalina. quanto ao conto que dá título à pequena antologia, o potencial da sua premissa é completamente desperdiçado: andar por aí com as memórias de Shakespeare lutando por lugar na sua mente até começar a apagar sua própria identidade deveria ser uma viagem bem mais insana ou impactante, e esta não me marcou nem um pouco.
A afirmação "Um livro é as palavras que o compõem" corre o risco de parecer um axioma insípido. Mesmo assim, todos tendemos a acreditar que existe uma forma separável do fundo e que dez minutos de diálogo com Henry James nos revelariam o "verdadeiro" argumento de Outra Volta do Parafuso. Penso que talvez não seja verdade; penso que Dante não estava mais informado sobre Ugolino que o que está dito em seus tercetos. Schopenhauer declarou que o primeiro volume de sua obra capital consiste em um único pensamento, e que não encontrou modo mais breve de transmiti-lo. Dante, ao contrário, diria que tudo o que imaginou sobre Ugolino está nos debatidos tercetos.
No tempo real, na história, toda vez que um homem se vê diante de várias alternativas, opta por uma e elimina e perde as demais; o mesmo não acontece no tempo ambíguo da arte, semelhante ao da esperança e ao do esquecimento. Hamlet, nesse tempo, é são e é louco. Na treva de sua Torre da Fome, Ugolino devora e não devora os cadáveres amados, e essa ondulante imprecisão, essa incerteza, é a estranha matéria de que é feito. Assim, com duas possíveis agonias, sonhou-o Dante e assim o sonharão as gerações.
The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
Did not finish book.
Did not finish book.
dnf for now
the trailer of the show hadn't amazed me one bit, so i picked up the book thinking the original material with the brunette version of Percy could change that or be more exciting on its own. i stopped reading when his mom died and i didn't feel a thing. that convinced me im not the target audience for it. im too dead inside for a book that'll probably have more jokes than grief after such a big trauma in the protagonist's life. i also realized greek mythology isn't really my thing, at least not in a fantasy book. maybe im wrong and i could actually take it seriously, but it's 2023, and i don't want to finish this and still prefer Harry Potter (the series, not the character). that would be sad. and kind of immoral.
the trailer of the show hadn't amazed me one bit, so i picked up the book thinking the original material with the brunette version of Percy could change that or be more exciting on its own. i stopped reading when his mom died and i didn't feel a thing. that convinced me im not the target audience for it. im too dead inside for a book that'll probably have more jokes than grief after such a big trauma in the protagonist's life. i also realized greek mythology isn't really my thing, at least not in a fantasy book. maybe im wrong and i could actually take it seriously, but it's 2023, and i don't want to finish this and still prefer Harry Potter (the series, not the character). that would be sad. and kind of immoral.
The Emperor's Soul by Brandon Sanderson
1.0
third chance i give Brandon Sanderson (fifth if we consider Legion is divided into three volumes) and now i have a fairly plausible theory on how he's able to write big books set in his even bigger universe so fast: they all lack nuance. the man simply doesn't care about it, if the five titles i've read written by him are anything to go by. a reviewer said he's a step up from a hack writer, and im starting to agree.
the lesser of the evils: in The Emperor's Soul there's yet another mc you can't tell how old is. i understand not wanting to bluntly state the information (even though so many others, less relevant, are), but the tone of the character's inner voice should show their age without the reader having to put together little pieces of the story to know it.
all you get from the protagonist's monologue is that she's a scholarly type of Mary Sue who can literally turn superhuman when marked by a stone stamp that erases her past and replaces it with another for some time without any real consequence. how are the "soulstones" carved with this magical ability? what is the source of the magic? can anyone turn superhuman after years of carving the right marks or is our mc just that special? no one knows. the narrator swears to god that "forgery" —the ability to create anything out of anything based on the principle that every object has a past, a soul AND an identity— is more complex (or less absurd) than it seems and you're supposed to go with it.
perhaps, were the magic system purposefully whimsical rather than academic and a "science" supposedly exact, i would take it more seriously. however, the whole novella is just talk: lots of telling-not-showing in which the author brags, either through narration or dialogue (bc a high-rank politician who answers only to the emperor does NOT know how everything in the palace is built), about how badass his ideas are, how manipulative his mc is, without never really explaining or letting us see the core points that sustain and prove it all. there's history and psychology behind every carving, yet it comes off sillier than the Avengers' infinity stones.
plotwise, things are conveniently arranged and left to luck or "i hope this character is dumb enough to do exactly as i planned". the mc is tasked with forging back to life the emperor's soul, who had his brain reconstructed through forgery after an assassination attempt but his mind forever lost. [spoilers of the obvious ending ahead] another character eventually sobs out of amazement at her artistry —which would serve the thematic inspired by the ancient Chinese nobility's costum of marking works of art with a signature stamp, if only the art in question weren't considered impossible by the artist herself and didn't depend on her playing god without considering even once the dubious morality of it. on day one, she's lying that she can do it; three months later, she's whispering into the emperor's ear how she knows him better than himself after reading his diary. just like that a whole mind is reconstructed and even righted: the emperor is brand new and will now follow the path to greatness after years of laziness. and i wasted my fucking time. again.
the lesser of the evils: in The Emperor's Soul there's yet another mc you can't tell how old is. i understand not wanting to bluntly state the information (even though so many others, less relevant, are), but the tone of the character's inner voice should show their age without the reader having to put together little pieces of the story to know it.
all you get from the protagonist's monologue is that she's a scholarly type of Mary Sue who can literally turn superhuman when marked by a stone stamp that erases her past and replaces it with another for some time without any real consequence. how are the "soulstones" carved with this magical ability? what is the source of the magic? can anyone turn superhuman after years of carving the right marks or is our mc just that special? no one knows. the narrator swears to god that "forgery" —the ability to create anything out of anything based on the principle that every object has a past, a soul AND an identity— is more complex (or less absurd) than it seems and you're supposed to go with it.
perhaps, were the magic system purposefully whimsical rather than academic and a "science" supposedly exact, i would take it more seriously. however, the whole novella is just talk: lots of telling-not-showing in which the author brags, either through narration or dialogue (bc a high-rank politician who answers only to the emperor does NOT know how everything in the palace is built), about how badass his ideas are, how manipulative his mc is, without never really explaining or letting us see the core points that sustain and prove it all. there's history and psychology behind every carving, yet it comes off sillier than the Avengers' infinity stones.
plotwise, things are conveniently arranged and left to luck or "i hope this character is dumb enough to do exactly as i planned". the mc is tasked with forging back to life the emperor's soul, who had his brain reconstructed through forgery after an assassination attempt but his mind forever lost. [spoilers of the obvious ending ahead] another character eventually sobs out of amazement at her artistry —which would serve the thematic inspired by the ancient Chinese nobility's costum of marking works of art with a signature stamp, if only the art in question weren't considered impossible by the artist herself and didn't depend on her playing god without considering even once the dubious morality of it. on day one, she's lying that she can do it; three months later, she's whispering into the emperor's ear how she knows him better than himself after reading his diary. just like that a whole mind is reconstructed and even righted: the emperor is brand new and will now follow the path to greatness after years of laziness. and i wasted my fucking time. again.
Lies of the Beholder by Brandon Sanderson
adventurous
dark
mysterious
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.25
with such a cool opening, this volume should've made me bump up my rating of the trilogy to at least three stars, but here we are. the first three chapters are definitely my kind of messy and what i expect of a story about a man who lives with dozens of hallucinations as if they were real people (later on, the trick is repeated, but it doesn't land like the first time). we finally focus on the nature of these entities or 'aspects' summoned by the protagonist with their own personalities and backgrounds to compartmentalize his vast knowledge and array of specialized skills, which he does so quite literally through speed-reading. despite the absurdity of this method, the aspects and everything they imply —the questioning of the concepts of insanity and reality, the crazy relationship we established with ourselves to maintain a sense of order within our personal lives, and how uncomfortable must be to have the weirdness of our brains out in the open for everyone to judge instead of neatly hidden inside our skulls— are what kept me intrigued during a rather disappointing reading. naturally, many questions piled up, yet only a few are answered here and plotlines introduced in the previous novellas are left hanging. the resolution of the mystery of the mc's disappeared love interest that runs throughout the three volumes is unsatisfying and their romance, as corny as the ending. like with Mistborn, i picked this up for the premise only to see creativity eventually being replaced by mawkish writing and characters, with little to no payoff. so two stars still.
Skin Deep by Brandon Sanderson, Jon Foster
lighthearted
mysterious
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.25
i thought the religious debate would be a one-time thing and we'd move away from it, but in this volume Sanderson again tries to reconcile faith and rationality. that's not something bad per se, but his corny attempt makes it obvious the struggle is his and not the main character's, whose speech on the subject is so unnaturally delivered with its cheap metaphysics ("oh i don't believe in god, but i do believe in infinity". bitch you're about to be shot in the head) it turns the most dangerous situation of the story in a self-help book chapter. that comes after the protagonist is abruptly separated from his hallucinations — entities or "aspects" he summons after learning a subject by just flipping through the pages of a book bc he's that smart. they being his receptacles of knowledge even for social interactions, the separation opens a lot of possibilities to discuss his condition that are never explored as they should due to the author's little "philosophical" moment and to limitations of format, since this is just a novella. the aspects' nature, my favorite part of the book, is better explained here, yet i still find it contradictory: if they're supposed to know only what their creator knows, why are there instances when they see what Stephen isn't looking at and are even ordered to "keep watch"? as for Stephen himself, he confesses to being "a rather bland man in his thirties" and that "the aspects have all the character", and i agree (except for the fact he comes off like a man in his twenties not thirties). however, there's not much to the aspects' said character: while i like Tobias' oldman aura and Aubrey's self-awareness, every time Ivy exclaims "language!" like a broken record is a reminder she didn't bat an eye to JC's racist comment in the first volume beyond asking why do they keep him around (just to get caught kissing him afterward), and his "can i shot them?" line was already annoying in the previous novella. a butler completes the main cast, only you tend to forget him when he isn't calling his employer "master" as if they're both starring in a new Batman movie. the mystery and sci-fi plotlines are also better woven this time, although the holes and amateur mistakes eventually appear —the biggest of the first being a professional assassin suddenly starting to believe in ghost stories so she can conveniently miss a shot at our man— and everything is wrapped up by an anticlimactic resolution with little to no feeling of fear or tension throughout it. despite all that, the last volume is in my plans for this week; i'm already here, might as well finally discover what's up with this guy's mind.