mars2k's Reviews (234)

Die, Vol. 3: The Great Game

Kieron Gillen

4.5

dark emotional tense fast-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

The Great Game is a step up from the previous volume. It’s a little aimless in the first half and rushed towards the end, but on the whole the momentum is revitalised, the plot progression is satisfying, and the stakes are set as the series gears up for the final stretch.

This book is strong in its own right too, tackling themes of war, death, and autonomy with tact and insightfulness. The central question of who is really in control weaves through the narrative and rears its head when

it is revealed that Sol is not in control of the game and is, in fact, only another player – an idea that fits nicely into real world conversations about the role of the GM, complementing the book’s other major theme of the relationship between TTRPGs and wargames.

It’s rare that a piece of media that relies so heavily on breaking the fourth wall and being meta does so in a way that feels earned. All I can do now is hope that volume 4 gives Die the gratifying conclusion the series deserves.

Content Warnings

Die, Vol. 2: Split the Party

Kieron Gillen

4.0

emotional mysterious reflective sad medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

I enjoyed this book but it’s not as good as the first volume. This one is much more reflective, which isn’t inherently a bad thing but the momentum of the story does grind to a halt. The opening narration of “We’ve gone nowhere. ... We’ve achieved nothing. ... But we’ve been busy” does a good job of summing up this volume’s agitated stagnation.

I’m glad some of the characters that were underused in the first book were given more attention here. Ash got sidelined this time round. She was literally gagged at one point so that somebody else could spout exposition for a change.

The artwork is gorgeous but here and there it felt a little rushed and unfinished? Maybe it’s just that the pace has changed and so an art style that complements frantic action sequences looks out-of-place when used for more contemplative scenes, and therefore its flaws become more noticeable.

I absolutely adore the style Hans used when

relaying the events of Charlotte Brontë’s life.

It’s so delicate and easy on the eye – it has this Art Nouveau quality to it.

As I said at the beginning of this review, I do think Split the Party is a slight downgrade compared to Fantasy Heartbreaker. Die hasn’t dropped the ball but it is fumbling just a little. I hope this turns out to be the calm before the storm and that volume 3 takes the story to new heights. I’m excited to see where this goes.

Content Warnings

Why Art?

Eleanor Davis

4.0

inspiring reflective fast-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Complicated

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

This one was short but sweet. It wasn’t as powerful or as deep as I was hoping it would be, but I was still moved by it.

Davis’s artwork is lovely. It’s so concise. The illustrations are simple and organic, and the characters are full of, well, character. The art style works well with the story’s theme of vulnerability.

I’m afraid there’s not much else to say. Why Art? is a nice little book. Definitely worth a read but don’t set your expectations unrealistically high. The drawings will make you smile, and the text will make you think. That’s all there is to it.

Content Warnings

Remina

Junji Ito

3.0

adventurous dark tense fast-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Plot

Strong character development: Complicated

Loveable characters: No

Diverse cast of characters: No

Flaws of characters a main focus: No

Remina is a tale of obsession and destruction. It’s a commentary on the toxicity of idol culture, particularly as it intersects with misogyny. I think the protagonist’s storyline is complemented fairly well by the more fantastical elements – the harassment the girl Remina is subjected to and the planet Remina’s relentless pursuit are mirror images.

Remina Oguro has no agency whatsoever. Unfortunately, that does make her a little difficult to connect to, but I don’t think she should be dismissed as poorly written. It is demonstrated time and time again that the men and boys in her life constantly make decisions for her with no regard as to what she might want. They tell her what to think and how to feel. They lie to her and gaslight her. They’ll worship her one minute and demonise her the next with no apparent reason for the change in attitude beyond their own fancies. It’s no wonder she’s so passive and unable to assert herself. She barely even has a self to assert. This isn’t just a two-dimensional female character – she has been flattened. Though I admit I would have liked to see her reach her limit and snap instead of always capitulating.

As for the sci-fi horror, it’s all very pulpy. The silliness does undercut the horror somewhat, and the scientific errors are irksome. I mean, yeah, obviously a story about a murderous planet is going to require some suspension of disbelief, but light years as a measure of time? Come on.

Also the ending didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me? Let’s just say I’d have written it very differently.

Okay, no, let’s dissect it. Option 1: Death. This feels like an obvious conclusion to me. Remina (the girl) could have died at the hands of the mob that hunted her, in the all-encompassing cataclysm of the Earth being consumed, or even by suicide. Yes, she only has one year to live in the weird space bunker thing so in a sense her death is imminent, but it doesn’t have that same “destruction” feel to it that was the theme of the story. Option 2: As I said before, it would have been great to see her assert herself. The finale easily could have revolved around a triumphant moment in which she makes a stand and reclaims her personhood. Option 3: Yes, this book explores the horror of being despised and hunted, but there’s also the more subtle horror of being known. Of being perceived. What if Remina (the planet) destroyed the world and turned its gaze upon Remina (the girl), the sole survivor, only to leave and continue its rampage elsewhere in the galaxy? Remina Oguro would be left utterly alone, experiencing a horror that’s the complete inverse of the horror she was subjected to before.

All in all, I kinda liked Remina. At the very least, I appreciate the effort. The artwork was great. The writing could have been better. It’s a shame the execution was a little lacking because Ito was working with some really interesting ideas. Three stars. Not quite three and a half.

Content Warnings

Cyclonopedia: Complicity with Anonymous Materials

Reza Negarestani

3.0

challenging dark informative mysterious slow-paced

Plot or Character Driven: N/A

Strong character development: No

Loveable characters: No

Diverse cast of characters: Complicated

Flaws of characters a main focus: No

“Squirming its way into ever more convoluted coils, the Middle East develops a life-form of its own [...] By casting creation aside, this life-form builds worlds and corpses more efficiently than God.”

I really don’t know what to make of this book.

It isn’t so much a work of “theory-fiction” as it is theory infected by fiction. The framing device (if you can call it that) doesn’t add much besides injecting some ambiguity as to what is and isn’t real. There’s no plot to speak of, though there are characters. It’s like there’s a narrator but no narrative – which calls into question the purpose of the narrator.

Perhaps Cyclonopedia would have been easier to follow if it had discarded the prologue and the annotations and instead focused on being a fictional biography of Dr Hamid Parsani, fleshing him out as a character but otherwise not getting bogged down in the construction of a fictional universe. Alternatively, it could have been a speculative fiction novel – philosophical but not academic – with rich worldbuilding influenced by Mesopotamian mythology and geopolitics. I suppose the book would lose some of its allure if it had been more straightforward, however.

The “manuscript” itself meanders in and out of lucidity, with occasional flashes of brilliance. It’s a captivating read. There are some really interesting ideas in there, such as the evocative dichotomy of wet oil vs dry sand, and insights into mythological beings like Pazuzu. But after these bright moments have passed, the reader is pulled back down into a sea of incoherent ramblings. I don’t know what the philosophical equivalent of technobabble is but there’s a lot of that.

Though what I read was supposedly (a fictionalised?) Negarestani’s analysis of the works of (the fictional) Parsani, it can be hard to distinguish between the two sometimes. Parsani is essentially a stand-in for Negarestani himself and the way they write is very similar. Which again makes me wonder why the book was written like this.

I’m conflicted. I’m having a hard time identifying what’s actually significant and what’s just me projecting meaning onto something meaningless – which itself is both frustrating and fascinating. Is the prose supposed to be nonsensical? Are Negarestani and Parsani supposed to blur together into one voice? Am I supposed to examine the intentions of the author rather than suspending my disbelief and experiencing the fiction he has crafted? Am I massively overthinking this? I don’t know. Probably!

Content Warnings

The Plague

Albert Camus

4.5

dark emotional hopeful inspiring reflective sad tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: No

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

Reading The Plague in the midst of a pandemic is an odd experience. It’s hard to say whether it makes the story more impactful or less. The idea of a city going into lockdown isn’t particularly shocking to me now, but, at the same time, I can appreciate the accuracy of the depiction in a way I wouldn’t have been able to previously.

At the heart of the story is Camus’s absurdist philosophy. I’m not being hyperbolic when I say it has genuinely changed my life. I’ve often struggled with hopelessness and pessimism, so the insistence on fighting losing battles – on knowing you can’t fix the world but doing the best you can regardless – was something I took to heart. This philosophy most obviously manifests in the actions and beliefs of the protagonists (“Your victories will always be temporary, that’s all.” [...] “Always, I know that. But that is not a reason to give up the struggle.”) but there’s also something to be said about the way it intertwines with other themes. Take language, for instance. There is initially some debate over whether or not the plague should be called a plague, the citizens of Oran struggle to verbalise their anguish when the city is quarantined, and Grand is stuck writing and rewriting the first line of his novel. Words are not enough to accurately describe the human experience, but we try to communicate with them anyway. The irony of this message being conveyed through a work of literature does not escape me.

Speaking of language, my copy of The Plague features a sub-par translation, and I’m going to attribute the clunky sentence structure and wonky grammar to overly-literal translation from French to English. Nevertheless, Camus’s skill as a writer shines through. Something I picked up on was the way he set the mood through careful pacing. The book starts off slow and meandering when discussing the banality of life in Oran before the plague, then pivots to quick, urgent clauses when the plague strikes. It’s masterful.

There are some aspects of the book which deserve criticism (for example, women exist only in their relationships to men) but there’s also so much to love. I think this is the best novel I’ve ever read? I will definitely be checking out the rest of Camus’s work.

Hats off, gentlemen!

Content Warnings

The Undying: A Meditation on Modern Illness

Anne Boyer

2.0

challenging sad medium-paced

This book is kind of terrible (I’m sorry!) An endorsement quote on the cover describes it as “profound and unforgettable” but I have to disagree with that assessment. I didn’t find The Undying nearly as groundbreaking or eye-opening as other readers seem to.

I know this is going to sound mean, but it feels like Boyer was simultaneously trying too hard and not hard enough, with more of a focus on appearing erudite than on actually demonstrating that intelligence. Her writing style sometimes resembles that of a teenager – an intellectual aesthetic which lacks real substance, angsty attempts at poetry, reels of anecdotes that don’t flow together at all, and countless tangents that probably make sense to her but seem completely irrelevant to the reader. It’s a mess.

Boyer also has a tendency to come across as incredibly unempathetic – not to mention hypocritical – making the book downright unpleasant to read at times. She repeatedly brings up horrors she doesn’t face (eg: racism, drone strikes, AIDS) just to make a point, and yet she acts like it’s appropriation when people express grief for loved ones with cancer when they themselves don’t have it. There are a few passages where she casually talks about doing some pretty awful things, such as guilt tripping an obviously distressed and uncomfortable friend into looking at her body.

I don’t know... I really don’t like this book, and I don’t understand how my opinion of it differs so drastically from mainstream views. Did we read the same book?

Content Warnings

Notes Made while Falling

Jenn Ashworth

5.0

dark emotional funny inspiring reflective sad tense medium-paced

Notes Made While Falling is absolutely phenomenal. It is masterfully crafted and clearly built to be a book – it just wouldn’t work in any other medium. The unreliable narration means the anecdotes recounted in this memoir(?) may not be “true” in the strictest sense, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t honest. Ashworth’s writing is captivating, evocative, and, at times, horrifyingly gruesome.

It’s not for the faint of heart but if you can handle gore, trauma, and psychosis then I highly recommend it.

A couple of quotes:

“I want to demonstrate to her something I still can’t help but hope is true of art generally and might one day be true for me in particular: the things we sickly humans make can be more complex and intelligent, more humane and more precious, than the wounded people who make them. / Alone in my bed, I feel ashamed.”

“I am not figuring out a way to ‘tell it slant’ because the thing itself is slant and untellable and only my body knows my evil hour.”

Content Warnings

Time Is the Thing a Body Moves Through

T. Fleischmann

4.5

adventurous emotional hopeful lighthearted reflective relaxing sad medium-paced

“To chart these romances would be to name constellations among stars that will not stay still.”

I like this book a lot. Time Is the Thing a Body Moves Through does a great job of blurring the lines between poetry, memoir, and essay. It’s sometimes dark but never grim, and it embodies a sincere and wistful spirit as Fleischmann contemplates their relationship with queerness, sexuality, gender, politics, and art.

I was expecting Félix González-Torres and his works to play a bigger role – he crops up now and then but it wouldn’t take much restructuring to remove him from the book entirely. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; I only bring this up to say that the blurb is a little misleading. This book is many things but it isn’t an art critique.

Time Is the Thing a Body Moves Through is an interesting little book. I’ll probably revisit it at some point.

Content Warnings

Violence: Humans in Dark Times

Brad Evans

3.0

dark informative reflective fast-paced

Violence: Humans in Dark Times disappointed me somewhat, but it fails in interesting ways, I think.

The interview format does the book no favours – trains of thought are constantly derailed by the interviewer interrupting or the chapter simply coming to an end. Perhaps it could have worked better as a series of short essays? That way the writers would have the space to properly explore their ideas and express them clearly, with better consideration of pacing and phrasing.

Something else that bothered me is the sense of detachment that permeates the text. I expected a book about violence to be visceral and to pack a punch (no pun intended), but instead there’s this reluctance to tackle the subject head-on. Most chapters are only tangentially related to violence, and even those that do address it tend to do so from a safe distance – as something that happens in other places to other people.

What I will say is that this book serves as a nice sample platter of contemporary artists and philosophers. There are definitely some interviewees whose work I want to check out. But Violence: Humans in Dark Times itself doesn’t really deliver.

Content Warnings

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