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hunger's reviews
9 reviews
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Whiny suburban white boy problems! Now that is certainly a way to describe it. There’s something ironic about a novel wherein a young boy is constantly ignored by every adult and capable person around him, written off as a do-no-good’er, then sinks into a depressive episode, as ‘whiny’. Holden is no Saint. He flunked out of four high schools and it’s clear that he has no interest in academics. But here is also a boy — who I actually find to be quite empathetic and perceptive — who is still healing from his younger brother’s death, who is dealing with his own feelings of insecurity and place in the world, who’s so afraid of his parent’s disapproval that he near freezes to death to avoid going home, who then, in desperation, turns to an old teacher of his, only to then be near-molested.
Our dear Holden is really insecure (give me one person who wasn’t at sixteen!), and he has a touch for the melodramatics: he finds everyone a phony, he doesn’t much like girls if not for their attractiveness, he’s especially uncomfortable in his skin (he’s tall but lanky, and he can’t measure up to the other boys). But he’s also really empathetic, and I find it strange that so little people touch up on this, as I find it to be rather clear in the novel. He picks a fight with Stradlater because (and this is my interpretation) he believes he took advantage of a girl, he constantly thinks of his late little brother, he tries to console Jane when she is visibly troubled by the presence of her dad, he hires a prostitute but then can’t have sex with her because he is sickened by the idea, he really worries about the ducks in winter. He exhibits a sense of empathy where he feels like no one in the world cares (). He wants to run away, but in the end he decides against it because his little sister begged him not to. In the end, he decides to try to get better. I find that to be really mature actually.
Once a novel catches the wind of the masses it’s quite hard to reel it in again. I don’t figure JD Salinger meant for The Catcher to become so momentous or so controversial. The novel is in my modern mind really not all that taboo or unique for that matter, if not for the knowledge that a non-reliable, non-likeable, and morally grey narrator was truly out there at-the-time. Well, remind me to never trust popular opinion on a piece of media again!
I was hesitant to read The Catcher in the Rye because I had heard it was such a controversial book. And, well, if there’s any book that can illustrate the change of mindset we have from the previous generation, it might be this one. I expected from The Catcher something obscene, taboo, outrageous; instead I found a story that is very tame in all these regards. Another reason I had my reservations, was that the protagonist has a bad reputation in pop culture, it’s often on the list of ‘red flag books’ for people to like. I didn’t love Holden, but I did feel sorry for him, most of all because I feel he’s so mis-characterized in the popular psyche!
The following recent Tweet was what made me finally want to check this story out for myself: Why is Catcher in the Rye a red flag for me? It's not an automatic no, but I just can't relate to "whiny suburban white boy problems". Sorry not sorry. (Also, I'm not minimizing mental health issues, I'm neurodivergent myself, the book is just off puting/childish to me.)
SPOILER REVIEW
SPOILER REVIEW
A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick
A Scanner Darkly is a cautionary tale about drugs. You can do so much drugs that you, quite literally, lose yourself. The War on Drugs has been fought for many decades and it’s a losing war. The Netherlands is practically the pass-way for drug mafia. The US is off even worse. The solution to the drug epidemic lies not in banning all drugs — which would be impossible anyway — but like with most societal problems, it lies in curbing the issues that entice people to drug-abuse. It is ironic that there is such a strict distinction between ‘straights’ (sober people) and addicts, that there is a separate mall for those who have credit cards, and those who don’t, gated neighbourhoods for the well-off, and the dangerous low-cost apartments for the poor. And if you manage to survive the brutal kick-off rehab centers at New Path, all you are good for is being exploited on a farm, producing more of that Substance D, to continue the cycle. The CIA used to sell crack to its citizens. Mr. Dick always had his finger right on the pulse.
SPOILER REVIEW
In A Scanner Darkly, Philip K Dick speaks about the split-brain phenomena, the theory of how your brain can be split between right and left, and function practically as two different ego’s. Can the self be at odds which one another? I imagine it to be quite terrifying, but I wouldn’t put it past me for my double selves to hate each other’s guts. It reminds me of that one game Soma, (spoilers for the game ahead) where in the end, you are either copied, or duplicated. If you are copied, your entire consciousness as is gets uploaded to a Haven. If you are duplicated, a snapshot is taken of your consciousness, and you get left right where you are. Isn’t that frightening? How quickly would I not be me anymore, but just iteration 1.0 of me? I suppose that would happen instantly. If I could make an infinite number of parallel decisions, then each of these decisions would form me differently and result in me being a different person. You really can’t trust yourself after all.
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
If I am killed for simply living, let death be kinder than man.
— Althea Davis
SPOILER REVIEW
I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to have to keep convincing people that you are not violent. It is almost fate to read this so soon after watching Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs (I’m not a violent dog. I don’t know why I bite). Lennie Small loves to pet little, furry animals. But his hands are way too harsh and heavy for their brittle bodies— he really doesn’t mean to hurt them, but he does anyways, always. There was no place in the world then for Lennie, but he did die believing he would get to pet the rabbits. I’d like to imagine he went someplace where he could pet as many rabbits as he wanted, and never hurt a single one. I imagine his hand would not be heavy in heaven.
Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer
Read on Medium
NB: This is less of a review but more of a collection of my thoughts.
Annihilation is a novel that teases the part of our brain that fears the unknown. The story tells of a place named Area X, which is occupied by an inexplicable phenomenon. Expeditions into the area have bore little fruit, and it is now on a team of female scientists to follow in their footsteps.
Our fear of the unknown is so common that it has breathed life into the very Lovecraftian horror that is sprinkled in this story. But Annihilation does not read like a horror, it is sprawled with a sense of wondrous terror as we follow our main character — known to us only as The Biologist — who guides us through the terrifying beauty of it all. Her sense of fear trumped by curiosity. Our desire for knowledge has always conquered all, even when that desire leads to self-destructive results. There in that area, there is a phenomenon that behaves like an organism, in a seemingly desperate quest to understand itself. Replicating, duplicating, and deforming all that it encounters. The same way our mind bends reality through our subjective experiences, this organism is interpreting its surroundings the only way it knows how: through mimicry and through fragmentation. There is a question of whether it has an evil nature, or whether its nature can even be evil if it was designed as such. Destruction, in some sadistic sense, is simply the transformation into something new. Endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful… What happens when we are confronted with matters that exceed the confines of rationality?
One downside to adulthood is that your imagination starts to fail you. I wish I could return to a child’s imagination, untouched by society. When we could simply perceive without distortion, to process without judgment. Perhaps the reason none of the expeditions ever succeeded was precisely because they were only sending in scientists. All they ever could focus on was the why’s and the how’s and the when’s. This is because their brains were conditioned to not accept things at face value, to view them through the lens of rationality and scientific accuracy. If only they had just stopped and looked, they would have seen so much more.
I think Annihilation is a very thought-provoking novel that takes advantage of our human curiosity. In all of that confusion there is also a sense of comfort. You don’t have to explain your existence, you just — belong. I can only imagine how terrifying it must be to have all the answers in the world.
NB: This is less of a review but more of a collection of my thoughts.
Annihilation is a novel that teases the part of our brain that fears the unknown. The story tells of a place named Area X, which is occupied by an inexplicable phenomenon. Expeditions into the area have bore little fruit, and it is now on a team of female scientists to follow in their footsteps.
“Some questions will ruin you if you are denied the answer long enough.”
Our fear of the unknown is so common that it has breathed life into the very Lovecraftian horror that is sprinkled in this story. But Annihilation does not read like a horror, it is sprawled with a sense of wondrous terror as we follow our main character — known to us only as The Biologist — who guides us through the terrifying beauty of it all. Her sense of fear trumped by curiosity. Our desire for knowledge has always conquered all, even when that desire leads to self-destructive results. There in that area, there is a phenomenon that behaves like an organism, in a seemingly desperate quest to understand itself. Replicating, duplicating, and deforming all that it encounters. The same way our mind bends reality through our subjective experiences, this organism is interpreting its surroundings the only way it knows how: through mimicry and through fragmentation. There is a question of whether it has an evil nature, or whether its nature can even be evil if it was designed as such. Destruction, in some sadistic sense, is simply the transformation into something new. Endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful… What happens when we are confronted with matters that exceed the confines of rationality?
“Nothing that lived and breathed was truly objective — even in a vacuum, even if all that possessed the brain was a self-immolating desire for the truth.”
One downside to adulthood is that your imagination starts to fail you. I wish I could return to a child’s imagination, untouched by society. When we could simply perceive without distortion, to process without judgment. Perhaps the reason none of the expeditions ever succeeded was precisely because they were only sending in scientists. All they ever could focus on was the why’s and the how’s and the when’s. This is because their brains were conditioned to not accept things at face value, to view them through the lens of rationality and scientific accuracy. If only they had just stopped and looked, they would have seen so much more.
“You saw something that wasn’t there.” She wasn’t going to let me off the hook.
You can’t see what is there, I thought.
I think Annihilation is a very thought-provoking novel that takes advantage of our human curiosity. In all of that confusion there is also a sense of comfort. You don’t have to explain your existence, you just — belong. I can only imagine how terrifying it must be to have all the answers in the world.
Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
Read on Medium
This year I read Murakami’s ‘Norwegian Wood’, regarded by many as a landmark of Japanese literature. It is also the first novel I properly finished in a long while. Reading Norwegian Wood during the isolated pandemic experience really strengthened the solemn atmosphere that this story carries.
We are introduced to our main character, Toru Watanabe, who takes us back to his adolescent years. To 1960s Japan, where he is a student at Tokyo University, and we are enlightened by his fascinatingly dull life. Watanabe’s predicament is that he is helplessly infatuated with one Miss Naoko. However, for various reasons, Naoko is unattainable. Yet, Watanabe remains shackled to the idea of her throughout the book. It is unclear whether he loves her because he loves her, or because he is unable to love anyone else.
On our journey through his memories, we are introduced to a handful of characters, all of whom are entranced in their own loneliness. Without revealing too much, Norwegian Wood is a story about ordinary people leading ordinary lives. Watanabe’s thoughts are presented in its entire rawness, in many ways it feels like taking a peek in a stranger’s diary. Despite being a young and healthy man, he is utterly void of aspirations. Watanabe does not dream of joining the student protests that take place at the backdrop of 1960's Japan, neither does he care all too much about his school results, or carving his own way in the world. What is this about then? When does the novel take a turn and transform our main character?
It doesn’t. What our dearest Watanabe lacks in ambition however, he makes up for in sex. Murakami does not shy away from describing these sexual encounters and conversations, of which there are many. It is almost as if sex is Watanabe’s way to connect with other people. He appears so emotionally backed up that his only method of forging genuine connection with someone is by sleeping with them. It is hard to sympathize with someone who is in the novel described to be “about as sensitive as a steel plate”. Norwegian Wood is completely anti-idealistic. In a sense, Murakami hopes that we can find ourselves in Watanabe. Not because he is interesting, but precisely because he isn’t. Most of us aren’t, really.
The prose is by far my favorite aspect of this novel, although it’s a touch melodramatic. Murakami has a way with metaphors. I do appreciate his words, and I appreciate the translator (Jay Rubin) for putting them down so well.
While being depressing for the most part, there are a few segments that contain the sort of deadpan humor that might get a chuckle out of you.
Death is quite a significant motive in the novel (“Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life”), so is mental illness and, again, sex. With this, Murakami has addressed the trifecta of taboo topics in Japanese culture.
Myself, I don’t quite know how to feel. This novel made me realize that people are rather often stuck in the past (“Here I was in my early twenties and the best part of my life was over.”), with no desire to cross over to the present. It is hard not to feel depressed after this if you are already inclined to feel that way. Despite its subject matter, I don’t think it’s all that somber. At the end of the novel, there’s no promise that life gets better. But that doesn’t mean it has to get worse.
This year I read Murakami’s ‘Norwegian Wood’, regarded by many as a landmark of Japanese literature. It is also the first novel I properly finished in a long while. Reading Norwegian Wood during the isolated pandemic experience really strengthened the solemn atmosphere that this story carries.
We are introduced to our main character, Toru Watanabe, who takes us back to his adolescent years. To 1960s Japan, where he is a student at Tokyo University, and we are enlightened by his fascinatingly dull life. Watanabe’s predicament is that he is helplessly infatuated with one Miss Naoko. However, for various reasons, Naoko is unattainable. Yet, Watanabe remains shackled to the idea of her throughout the book. It is unclear whether he loves her because he loves her, or because he is unable to love anyone else.
On our journey through his memories, we are introduced to a handful of characters, all of whom are entranced in their own loneliness. Without revealing too much, Norwegian Wood is a story about ordinary people leading ordinary lives. Watanabe’s thoughts are presented in its entire rawness, in many ways it feels like taking a peek in a stranger’s diary. Despite being a young and healthy man, he is utterly void of aspirations. Watanabe does not dream of joining the student protests that take place at the backdrop of 1960's Japan, neither does he care all too much about his school results, or carving his own way in the world. What is this about then? When does the novel take a turn and transform our main character?
It doesn’t. What our dearest Watanabe lacks in ambition however, he makes up for in sex. Murakami does not shy away from describing these sexual encounters and conversations, of which there are many. It is almost as if sex is Watanabe’s way to connect with other people. He appears so emotionally backed up that his only method of forging genuine connection with someone is by sleeping with them. It is hard to sympathize with someone who is in the novel described to be “about as sensitive as a steel plate”. Norwegian Wood is completely anti-idealistic. In a sense, Murakami hopes that we can find ourselves in Watanabe. Not because he is interesting, but precisely because he isn’t. Most of us aren’t, really.
The prose is by far my favorite aspect of this novel, although it’s a touch melodramatic. Murakami has a way with metaphors. I do appreciate his words, and I appreciate the translator (Jay Rubin) for putting them down so well.
“I have a lot more patience for others than I have for myself, and I’m much better at bringing out the best in others than in myself. That’s just the kind of person I am. I’m the scratchy stuff on the side of the matchbox.”
While being depressing for the most part, there are a few segments that contain the sort of deadpan humor that might get a chuckle out of you.
“I’m not going to die with you just because you made lunch for me. Of course, if it had been dinner...”
Death is quite a significant motive in the novel (“Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life”), so is mental illness and, again, sex. With this, Murakami has addressed the trifecta of taboo topics in Japanese culture.
Myself, I don’t quite know how to feel. This novel made me realize that people are rather often stuck in the past (“Here I was in my early twenties and the best part of my life was over.”), with no desire to cross over to the present. It is hard not to feel depressed after this if you are already inclined to feel that way. Despite its subject matter, I don’t think it’s all that somber. At the end of the novel, there’s no promise that life gets better. But that doesn’t mean it has to get worse.
“My life hadn’t ended. Life was still full of wonderful things I hadn’t experienced.”
Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir
Hail Mary is a comical, snappy read to get me out of the reading slump. It's a typical question-and-answer sci-fi adventure, each challenge or mystery is answered by another challenge. The plot propels itself at light speed, the destination leaves you winded and wondering. It gets sentimental at times, but it made my eyes water in the end. Deserves a fist-bump from me.
Blood Meridian, or, the Evening Redness in the West by Cormac McCarthy
Kindly fell on hard times aint ye son? he said.
I just aint fell on no good ones.
Blood Meridian start out with an orphan-like child who takes to violence. He is recruited by the army so that his rage might beget a purpose. The writing is closer to poetry than prose. The story is about man and violence and how these are eternal. But what does the kid’s repeated acts of mercy tell us? Despite being hardened by war and the most terrible acts of debauchery again and again, it does not scare him from compassion. Does this mean that some people are fated to be a certain way? Or is it a conscious choice every individual is presented with? Does the Judge’s ruthlessness make him a bad person, or is only the force that made him bad to blame?
McCarthy asks, ‘If God meant to interfere in the degeneracy of mankind would he not have done so by now?’. I would like to think that one’s fate is in our own hands. And war is one we wage against ourselves, against succumbing to our weakest or wrongest desires. And our fight is between what we want and what we need, and whether we can tell them apart.
I just aint fell on no good ones.
Blood Meridian start out with an orphan-like child who takes to violence. He is recruited by the army so that his rage might beget a purpose. The writing is closer to poetry than prose. The story is about man and violence and how these are eternal. But what does the kid’s repeated acts of mercy tell us? Despite being hardened by war and the most terrible acts of debauchery again and again, it does not scare him from compassion. Does this mean that some people are fated to be a certain way? Or is it a conscious choice every individual is presented with? Does the Judge’s ruthlessness make him a bad person, or is only the force that made him bad to blame?
McCarthy asks, ‘If God meant to interfere in the degeneracy of mankind would he not have done so by now?’. I would like to think that one’s fate is in our own hands. And war is one we wage against ourselves, against succumbing to our weakest or wrongest desires. And our fight is between what we want and what we need, and whether we can tell them apart.
Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time.
Slaughterhouse-five is an ‘auto’-biography of sorts, written from the POV of a character named Billy Pilgrim, who is abducted by aliens and comes unstuck in time. Judging from this, we are talking about an unreliable narrator, where fiction and fact blurs. It’s hard to say whether this is a war, or anti-war novel. It’s a novel that happens to be about a war. A bombing in Dresden to be specific, and the near-schizophrenic retellings of a character who is little more than a passerby. For a book which is so chaotic chronologically, it is very direct in its writing. It is a little absurd, but in a good way.
There is criticism about war, heroism, America's capitalism. And it doesn't take itself too seriously throughout it all. Despite the subject matter I did finish it off being a bit more optimistic about life.
Trout, incidentally, had written a book about a money tree.
It had twenty-dollar bills for leaves. Its flowers were government bonds. Its fruit was diamonds. It attracted human beings who killed each other around the roots and made very good fertilizer.
So it goes.
Slaughterhouse-five is an ‘auto’-biography of sorts, written from the POV of a character named Billy Pilgrim, who is abducted by aliens and comes unstuck in time. Judging from this, we are talking about an unreliable narrator, where fiction and fact blurs. It’s hard to say whether this is a war, or anti-war novel. It’s a novel that happens to be about a war. A bombing in Dresden to be specific, and the near-schizophrenic retellings of a character who is little more than a passerby. For a book which is so chaotic chronologically, it is very direct in its writing. It is a little absurd, but in a good way.
There is criticism about war, heroism, America's capitalism. And it doesn't take itself too seriously throughout it all. Despite the subject matter I did finish it off being a bit more optimistic about life.
Trout, incidentally, had written a book about a money tree.
It had twenty-dollar bills for leaves. Its flowers were government bonds. Its fruit was diamonds. It attracted human beings who killed each other around the roots and made very good fertilizer.
So it goes.
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