mars2k's Reviews (234)

Border State

Tõnu Õnnepalu

4.5

dark reflective medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Complicated

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

Border State is an intriguing little book. The evocative imagery conjures a world which is bleak yet beautiful. It’s almost gothic in places, reminiscent of Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart. We catch glimpses of narrative through the poetic haze, though even that seems to be distorted by contradictions and ambiguity. There’s a pervasive nihilism throughout which encompasses both philosophical existentialism and psychosis. It’s not for everyone but if you like kind-of-gothic literary fiction I’d definitely recommend it.

Content Warnings

x/ex/exis: poemas para la nación

Raquel Salas Rivera

3.0

fast-paced

I suppose the main thing I want to say is this: I wish Salas Rivera had gone further and leant into his ideas more. The very first poem in the collection (titled “notas sobre las temporadas/notes on the seasons”) opens with the line “en el español no nos damos naturalmente. / in spanish, we don’t naturally occur.” It uses the absence of the letter X in the Spanish language as a way of commenting on the exclusion of nonbinary people not only in gendered languages but also in society and culture more broadly. It’s a pretty basic observation but it’s a good starting point. Then the poem abruptly pivots to talking about lions transforming into snakes? The concept gets lost.

The only poem which really stood out for me was “(fenomenología)/(phenomenology).” Other than that, they all kind of blended together, and they just didn’t land for me outside a few interesting turns of phrase here and there. I think I might have enjoyed the book more were my Spanish not so rusty – the Spanish versions of the poems seemed to flow much better than the English ones.

Content Warnings

The State and Revolution

Vladimir Lenin

3.0

informative inspiring medium-paced

It’s hard not to view this book primarily as an insight into Lenin’s psyche and temperament. I don’t want to delve too deeply into psychoanalysis but each page is so laden with hunger, antagonism, and mistrust, it’s difficult to set that aside for the sake of the theoretical content. Lenin has a black-and-white worldview with a pessimistic bias; Marx and Engels are saints while everyone else, it seems, is some kind of “opportunist” or “philistine.” It sometimes comes across like he’s using Marx and Engels as a shield, in that he goes on and on about what they believed and never plainly states his own beliefs without invoking at least one of them for justification (/deflection?) It’s an interesting move considering his ego – he very much strikes me as an “if you want something done right, do it yourself” kind of guy.

The State and Revolution, as the title suggests, concerns the role of the state in the development of a communist society. I’d come across the concept of the state “withering away” but had never really grasped it until now. From what I understand, the idea is that the proletariat will seize power and use the state apparatus to nationalise every industry, thereby eliminating the capitalist class by replacing private ownership with public ownership. Since the state no longer serves its intended purpose of protecting property and generally serving the interests of the bourgeoisie, it is functionally something entirely new, to the extent that it doesn’t really make sense to call it a state any more. What’s left of the state gradually becomes redundant and obsolete and thus ceases to be maintained. (MLs, how did I do? Not too bad for an anarkiddy, eh?) I don’t entirely agree with this strategy but I can at least appreciate the rationale behind it.

Lenin is deliberately noncommittal regarding how long it will take for the state to wither away. On one hand he’s adamant that it’s inevitable, but on the other he does seem quite attached to this idea of a “temporary” transitional state, arguing that it’s vital for administrative purposes and for the “suppression” of both potential bourgeois rebellions and workers who refuse to pull their weight. I’m sceptical about his advocacy for an “armed proletariat” in that I’m not sure how a state-approved paramilitary differs from a conventional military or police force – what Lenin is advocating sounds like a police state to me. In general he seems a bit too keen to enact violence, whereas I see violence as an unfortunate necessity (if, indeed, it is a necessity in a given situation). If all you have is a hammer...

The State and Revolution is, in a word, authoritative. Lenin clearly knew what he was talking about when it comes to Marxism, and I can’t deny he’s got some charisma. I feel I gained a more robust understanding of Marxism, though the writing was quite repetitive and filled with petty aspersions. It’s not something I’d go out of my way to recommend but if you’re already planning on reading some of Lenin’s works, this is a good place to start.

Content Warnings

Fully Automated Luxury Communism

Aaron Bastani

2.5

hopeful medium-paced

Fully Automated Luxury Communism is something akin to solarpunk by way of Elon Musk hero-worship. The book is full of that characteristic techbro vagueness – a lot of statistics but not a lot of substance. There’s an admittedly rousing sense of optimism throughout but FALC itself is too ill-defined to be enticing and is based largely on hazy promises and platitudes.

Bastani references Mark Fisher’s concept of capitalist realism on multiple occasions yet he himself seems to be utterly taken in by it. He struggles to describe a post-capitalist future which doesn’t resemble, well, capitalism. He pulls a bait-and-switch with communism and socialism, and then he seems to conflate socialism with nationalisation. He doesn’t want to do away with nation states or electoralism or market economy. It’s unclear where exactly communism fits into his idea of FALC.
He’s excessively hung up on this idea that communism isn’t possible yet or wasn’t possible until very recently. The thing is, you need to make it possible. Sitting around waiting for communism to come to you is such a waste of time. I know it sounds harsh to call it counter-revolutionary but I don’t know how else to describe it.

Bastani wants to create a post-scarcity world within a capitalist framework, seemingly not understanding that capitalism is what manufactures that scarcity (or the illusion of scarcity) in the first place. The world produces enough food, for example, to feed the entire population, it’s just that capitalism prohibits distribution which isn’t conducive to profiteering; capitalists would rather withhold or even destroy surplus stock than let it be handed out for free to those who need it. Bastani’s approach is completely backwards.

In general, he has a habit of disregarding anything which doesn’t fit his presupposed conclusions. Technological progress is always presented as fundamentally good – even when he does investigate logistical concerns, he refuses to consider ethics. How can you dedicate an entire chapter to the science of gene editing and not acknowledge the elephant in the room that is eugenics? His naivety would be quaint were it not so insidious.

To be clear, I am not accusing Bastani of pushing some hateful agenda, only highlighting the limitations of his writing. It seems to me as though he either hasn’t given these topics enough thought or he’s choosing not to address scepticism because it would dampen the confidence and cheer he’s trying to inspire. Either way, I’m not impressed.

Fully Automated Luxury Communism does not live up to its title. It’s accessible, I’ll give it that. It’s not the worst book I’ve ever read but, whether you’re a seasoned leftist or someone new to radical politics, it’s not really worth your time.

Content Warnings

Stages of Rot

Linnea Sterte

5.0

inspiring mysterious medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Plot

Strong character development: N/A

Loveable characters: N/A

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

I read Stages of Rot a few days ago but I’ve been struggling to write a review. Where do I begin? Perhaps I should start with this: what is Stages of Rot about? I could talk, as other reviewers have, about the circle of life and about change being the only constant – these readings are valid but somewhat lacking.

Yes, it’s about the objectification of nature, broadly speaking, but it’s also about the objectification that comes with death and objectification in life when living as a woman. Gender (specifically womanhood) is at the heart of this graphic novel, and any analysis which fails to realise that will only ever fall short in my eyes.

But maybe I’m going about this all wrong. Towards the end of the book, there’s a scene in which

the pilot has been captured and is being displayed as the crown jewel of an exhibition. Patrons are captivated by her beauty in a leering sort of way, wishing she would smile for them. When the entomologist realises she can speak, he asks her “Why are you shaped like this – like a woman? What does it signify?” to which she responds “Oh. I wouldn’t know.” There are a few ways to look at this. Maybe the pilot is making a sly reference to how she’s assumed to be naïve and unintelligent. Perhaps she doesn’t see herself as a woman at all, which is why she feels she “wouldn’t know” the significance of a female form.

I could write paragraphs and paragraphs dissecting that brief exchange, but to do so I would have to ignore what’s right in front of me on the page: pushback against the very concept of interpretation. So... maybe I should just let it speak for itself.

It’s easy to get lost in the philosophy of this book, but the artwork is just as enthralling. Sterte captures a simultaneity of cellular and cosmic, organic and technical, spiritual and visceral. Mundane animals like black-headed gulls thrive alongside extinct Orthoceras and alien fauna unknown to our taxonomy. The skies are filled with birds and fish alike, creatures that should not coexist but do so anyway. It’s truly surreal. The minimal use of text only heightens the ambiguity as the book audaciously refuses to explain what’s going on or construct an easily digestible narrative for the reader to follow.

Stages of Rot paradoxically invites and rejects interpretation, and I love it for that. I’d recommend it purely for the art, but I also think there’s more literary substance to it than some give it credit for.

Content Warnings

A Frog in the Fall

Linnea Sterte

4.5

adventurous funny hopeful inspiring lighthearted reflective relaxing medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Complicated

Flaws of characters a main focus: N/A

A Frog in the Fall is a mellow tale about a young frog’s journey of discovery and adventure. There isn’t much of a plot, but the stunning artwork and the tender snapshots of life in this fantastical world are what carry the story. The focus on small moments like the frog putting on his shoes is just delightful, as are the unusual sights like a mouse riding a cart pulled by a chicken. I adore the playful inconsistencies – some plants are sentient while others seemingly aren’t, and some objects are huge in relation to the tiny characters (like the great frog’s enormous pair of scissors) while others (cup noodles, umbrellas, vinyl records) are scaled down to their size. There’s no rhyme or reason, nor should there be.

Content Warnings

Dune

Frank Herbert

4.5

adventurous mysterious reflective tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

“Greatness is a transitory experience. It is never consistent. It depends in part upon the myth-making imagination of humankind. The person who experiences greatness must have a feeling for the myth he is in. He must reflect what is projected upon him. And he must have a strong sense of the sardonic.”

I didn’t really know what to expect going in. I knew it was a science fiction classic featuring a young man called Paul on a desert planet that may or may not be called Dune, and I knew that there were big worms and something to do with spice – a rough outline, nothing more.

I think Dune can best be described as sci-fi for history buffs. It’s full of political intrigue, factions and dynasties, empire building, and so on, but also of note are the incessant spoilers courtesy of Princess Irulan. We are told who these characters are and what they will go on to do, to the extent that it sometimes feels like watching a reenactment of what happened or a dramatisation of a well-known legend rather than events unfolding in real time. At first I was thrown off by it but I adjusted and learnt to accept the writing for what it is instead of getting hung up on what I thought it would be.

Dune is, above all else, a story about expectations and adaptation. Having to adjust my own perspective in response to this curveball of a novel meant there was a neat parallel between my own reading experience and the experiences of the characters on the page having to adjust to life on Arrakis – a good avenue for sympathy and connection.

Paul, our protagonist, is entirely shaped by the expectations placed upon him.

He takes on various names and titles over the course of the story (Duke Paul Atreides, the Kwisatz Haderach, the Lisan al Gaib, Muad’Dib, Usul) and these personas seem to supersede any true sense of self he may have once had. His identity fractures and frays at the climax; not only does he flit back and forth between multiple selves, he also refers to them in the third person and assigns them different motives and personalities (“You have the word of a Duke [...] but Muad’Dib is another matter.”) I don’t know if I’d insist that Paul is plural, but his selfhood is certainly compromised and complicated by all these assumed identities.

Of course, while I’m on the topic of identity, I have to talk about gender – this book is riddled with it. I wouldn’t be the first to point out that women exist in this narrative only as they relate to men, and that they’re portrayed as intuitive, emotional, nurturing, and, above all, passive. I also wouldn’t be the first to note the queerness inherent to the Kwisatz Haderach, a boy with access to powers normally possessed only by women, who can see “both masculine and feminine pasts” – “the male who can truly become one of us.”

Paul has a drug-induced epiphany late in the novel wherein he claims women are givers and men are takers, and that he himself is “the fulcrum” who cannot give without taking nor take without giving.

That moment serves as a good demonstration of Dune’s strange synthesis of essentialism and transgressiveness. And I must say, the fulcrum quote really resonated with me as a genderqueer person.

I’ve talked about Paul, now it’s time to talk about Baron Harkonnen.

He starts off as a vague force of evil that influences the actions of others, only becoming a fully fledged character after the betrayal of Duke Leto.

Herbert could not have made it any clearer that this guy is a villain we’re supposed to loathe. Not only is he a power-hungry capitalist, he’s also an incestuous pedophile and (even worse!) he’s very fat. Yeah, the fatphobia is... not great. And that’s not the only thorny issue here. Dune is inseparable from its Orientalist manner, genocide is treated as set dressing, and eugenics (though criticised) does seem to be granted some legitimacy within the narrative. I don’t want to dwell on these problematic elements but at the same time I can’t disregard them.

Does Dune deserve four and a half stars? Probably not. Am I going to give it four and a half stars anyway? You bet. It’s not beyond criticism (far from it) but I thoroughly enjoyed it nonetheless. I’m curious to see where the story goes from here and I’ve already ordered Dune Messiah, but I won’t be reading it just yet because I have quite a backlog of unread books to work through first.

Content Warnings

Orientalism

Edward W. Said

3.5

informative reflective slow-paced

The first chapter of Orientalism was really strong (I’d give it four and a half stars in isolation) but chapters two and three struggled to hold my interest for the most part (I’d give them each three stars, for an overall average rating of three and a half). Said’s writing reminds me of Marx’s – it’s dense and dry but it’s well-researched and it’s clear that a lot of thought went into keeping the book as accessible as possible without losing that academic rigour.

The first chapter introduces the subject of Orientalism and explores its origins and manifestations, while the later chapters shift the focus towards individual Orientalist writers, using them as exemplary case studies. On that note, Said chooses to look at Orientalist literature exclusively, but what of paintings or architecture? When I think of Orientalism, I think of artworks by the likes of Gérôme, Lewis, or Weeks. To relegate that entire movement to no more than a passing mention seems odd to me. There’s also a focus on the Middle East and Egypt with not much said about the rest of Asia, though this is a little more understandable since the author, raised in Jerusalem and Cairo, is writing what he knows. I’ve seen some people accuse him of cherry-picking in order to push some kind of agenda but I’m not sure I’d go that far. What I will say is this: Orientalism is foundational but far from comprehensive. There were topics which I expected to feature prominently that were hardly acknowledged; likewise, there were angles which I hadn’t considered that Said brought up but didn’t delve into (you can’t casually mention teratology then move on, Edward, you can’t do that to me).

Orientalism feels thorough yet, at the same time, paradoxically underdeveloped. I enjoyed it overall and I would certainly recommend reading the first third, which is full of great insights. Here’s a quote:

“I use the word “arbitrary” here because imaginative geography of the “our land–barbarian land” variety does not require that the barbarians acknowledge the distinction. It is enough for “us” to set up these boundaries in our own minds; “they” become “they” accordingly, and both their territory and their mentality are designated as different from “ours.” To a certain extent modern and primitive societies seem thus to derive a sense of their identities negatively. [...] Yet often the sense in which someone feels himself to be not-foreign is based on a very unrigorous idea of what is “out there,” beyond one’s own territory. All kinds of superstitions, associations, and fictions appear to crowd the unfamiliar space outside one’s own.”

Content Warnings

Create Dangerously

Albert Camus

3.5

hopeful reflective fast-paced

I’m not sure what to make of this book. There are some fantastic quotes but Camus’s arguments overall aren’t particularly precise or revelatory.

The titular speech contends that art should not be superficial but it shouldn’t be propagandistic either, and it should speak truth without trying to replicate reality (an impossible task). It is, according to Camus, the artist’s responsibility to not succumb to either extreme.

“Art cannot be a monologue.”

“Art is neither complete rejection nor complete acceptance of what is. It is simultaneously rejection and acceptance, and this is why it must be a perpetually renewed wrenching apart.”

There are two supplementary speeches: “Defence of Intelligence” and “Bread and Freedom.” “Defence of Intelligence” discusses the importance of logic in a world filled with violence and hatred. It’s a little pretentious but sure, okay. “Bread and Freedom,” like “Create Dangerously,” advocates balance, this time between freedom and justice. I remember some evocative phrases like “the doves of peace do not perch on gallows!” but that’s about it.

There’s not much to dislike about Create Dangerously but it’s not that deep. Perhaps Camus’s observations were more impressive in the 1940s and 50s but now they seem quite plain.

Content Warnings

Phoenix Extravagant

Yoon Ha Lee

3.0

fast-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Plot

Strong character development: Complicated

Loveable characters: No

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

I was surprised to learn Phoenix Extravagant wasn’t Yoon Ha Lee’s debut novel – many of its shortcomings are typical of new writers, such as repetitive phrasing and telling rather than showing. It’s a shame, really, because it had potential. A book about a nonbinary artist in a dystopian world of sigil-powered automata is a fantastic pitch, but the execution is so-so.

An issue throughout is the emotionality lacking depth or simply not landing. I partially blame the protagonist, Jebi, who is pretty apathetic for the most part. If they don’t care about anything, why should I? But I think the problem runs deeper than that, because even moments which elated or terrified or shocked Jebi fell flat for me. Take

their relationship with Vei

for example. There is no chemistry between them and the whole affair comes out of nowhere. I am told that they are in love but I’m not made to feel it.

In many ways, Jebi simply isn’t protagonist material. They’re an asshole and they don’t have the charisma to make up for it. Characters as unpleasant as they are are best confined to short stories and novellas, I feel – that way you don’t have to endure them for too long. Jebi is also frustratingly passive. On the rare occasions that they do take action, it always backfires thanks to their glaring incompetence. I know their lack of agency is a reflection of the oppressive system they find themself trapped within, but the way they kept blurting out secrets or wandering off and immediately getting captured was even more annoying and less compelling than their head-down resignation to the status quo.

The story ends with a message that not everyone is a fighter and the world needs artists just as much as it needs revolutionaries. It’s a nice idea, but Jebi still could have become a better person or helped out in a more substantial way than fucking off to the moon. It feels like whatever character arc they might have had got snapped back to where they were at the start, caring only about themself and their art and distancing themself from political issues as much as possible. Vei is also there, I guess.

There are more plot holes and inconsistencies than I can count. For example, the financial struggles of Jebi and their sister Bongsunga are sometimes front-and-centre and sometimes completely forgotten about in scenarios where it really should have affected the outcome. I was often left feeling like I was going crazy. To say nothing of the scenes that happen out of nowhere as though the author suddenly remembered they’re important to the plot. I already mentioned the awkward romance, but I also want to talk about

the torture scene, which seems to exist purely to justify the later killing of Hafanden. It doesn’t really serve any purpose besides presenting Hafanden as an irredeemable villain. Were it not for that one scene, would he have deserved execution?

It’s an interesting question which the story doesn’t seem to want to grapple with.

Which brings me to Arazi...

Arazi is a magical mechanical dragon designed to be used as a weapon, but subtle sabotage in its creation caused it to be a staunch pacifist. That is, until the final act. During an ambush, Arazi kills Hafanden in order to save Jebi’s life. An act of justified violence, maybe, but violence nonetheless, and lethal violence at that. Arazi was a bit bummed out but it didn’t have time to sit with the implications of what it had done. Its defining trait – its pacifism and its refusal to kill – had just been tested and ultimately contradicted, and with nowhere near the gravity a moment like that deserves.

Throughout the book, Arazi puts forward intriguing philosophical questions that get pushed aside to be dealt with later. And, of course, they’re never followed up on. I'm not expecting the author to construct an exhaustive thesis on the nature of the soul and the self, but some exploration of these concepts in the story would be nice. Arazi and the other automata are constantly sidelined despite the book being about them.

There are so many issues I could pick apart but I think I’ll stop here. Between the flat characters, the lack of follow-through on interesting concepts, and the inconsistencies throughout, Phoenix Extravagant is hard to recommend. That said, it’s largely inoffensive. I appreciate what the author was going for, at least, even if it feels half-baked. I don’t think it’s bad but I’m glad I’m done with it.

Content Warnings

More...