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Woman on the Edge of Time by Marge Piercy
challenging
dark
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.5
This is my first novel of Piercy's after many years of loving her poetry. And for many reasons, I was rewarded for this sustained immersion into her thinking.
While this book falls into the category of science fiction, it is better understood as speculative fiction (and social commentary). A woman who is forced into mental institutions (in the early 1970s) is able to time travel to a future utopic society. To be sure, the utopia has come about only following the worst practices of apocalyptic consumption-capitalism: it struggles in the aftermath; but its people have learned an ethic (and matched morality) about sustainability and life which--for its time, especially--is hugely forward-looking, especially in terms of gender, sexuality, and child development. These sections, coupled with a future language which is at once as familiar as it is paradigm-shifting, make the book a valuable experience.
Where Piercy has more trouble is in sustaining the story and its significance across past and future. There are some tempting discussions about the malleability of time, of the power of "responders" like our protagonist Connie, and of the responsibility we have to ourselves. Implementing these future-thinking ideas into the 1970s, however, was often forced and at times neglected or forgotten. The resolution to the novel feels equally . . . irresolute in this way. Yes, our Connie grows into her moment, but its nature is quickly narrated and left unexamined. One wonders if she needed "the future" at all to enact it and what might we have said had she done so. (And this is not because the novel is brief; its nearly 400 pages with long asides into the descriptions of meals, bandages, and the biographies of minor characters.)
It is, in part, the nature of a lot of science fiction from this era to offer its themes through "heady" trips into other-spaces; and readers are often left to make of the experiences what they will. I'm thinking of almost all of Huxley, a lot of Heinlein, Daniel Keyes, Harlan Ellison, and even some of LeGuin. In this sense, Piercy's novel has like company. But I could not help thinking that its resolution fell somewhat short of the author's future vision.
While this book falls into the category of science fiction, it is better understood as speculative fiction (and social commentary). A woman who is forced into mental institutions (in the early 1970s) is able to time travel to a future utopic society. To be sure, the utopia has come about only following the worst practices of apocalyptic consumption-capitalism: it struggles in the aftermath; but its people have learned an ethic (and matched morality) about sustainability and life which--for its time, especially--is hugely forward-looking, especially in terms of gender, sexuality, and child development. These sections, coupled with a future language which is at once as familiar as it is paradigm-shifting, make the book a valuable experience.
Where Piercy has more trouble is in sustaining the story and its significance across past and future. There are some tempting discussions about the malleability of time, of the power of "responders" like our protagonist Connie, and of the responsibility we have to ourselves. Implementing these future-thinking ideas into the 1970s, however, was often forced and at times neglected or forgotten. The resolution to the novel feels equally . . . irresolute in this way. Yes, our Connie grows into her moment, but its nature is quickly narrated and left unexamined. One wonders if she needed "the future" at all to enact it and what might we have said had she done so. (And this is not because the novel is brief; its nearly 400 pages with long asides into the descriptions of meals, bandages, and the biographies of minor characters.)
It is, in part, the nature of a lot of science fiction from this era to offer its themes through "heady" trips into other-spaces; and readers are often left to make of the experiences what they will. I'm thinking of almost all of Huxley, a lot of Heinlein, Daniel Keyes, Harlan Ellison, and even some of LeGuin. In this sense, Piercy's novel has like company. But I could not help thinking that its resolution fell somewhat short of the author's future vision.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Forced institutionalization and Medical trauma
Moderate: Medical content, Domestic abuse, Grief, Confinement, Panic attacks/disorders, Gaslighting, Emotional abuse, Schizophrenia/Psychosis , Suicide, Injury/Injury detail, Self harm, Sexual content, Abandonment, Addiction, Death, Drug abuse, Physical abuse, Violence, and War
Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See
dark
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.5
See has her fans; she is undoubtedly quite popular for this particular brand of storytelling: sad stories of old China. And true enough, if you have not read anything of the world of "privileged" women in pre-modern East Asia, this will offer some fairly graphic insights. Equally, the author's own learning of an historical secret writing for women makes for an interesting premise for storytelling.
But I'm afraid that neither of these historical premises (foot-binding and other suffering by Chinese and Japanese women for the sake of beauty nor the language of nu shu) are nearly sufficient to sustain a good novel. I found myself frustrated at two levels:
First, the characters and their own growth itself: we might hope to see the development of their ideas, of their relationship, of their understanding of their own condition, etc. But these fundamentals to storytelling take a far backseat to outside events (many beyond their experience or understanding) which impact their fortunes. What political drama which exists within the female community itself is also resolved through time and death, not through the actions or understandings of our protagonists. In other words, our characters are long-suffering from start to finish. And yes, this might be "historically accurate," but this is not a history; it's a novel. The final conflict/complication around the secret language (the sustained conceit for the story) arises from such a simply elementary misunderstanding as to be unreasonably ignorant even from this white male reader's immediate response. Is <i>this</i> really what we have been building towards?
My second concern is a bit different, and I admit that I believe reading writers like James Clavell (Shogun) and Arthur Golden (Memoirs of a Geisha) is problematic. I kept asking myself not just why I was reading this (it came recommended), but why it was written. It's a bit like writing about an idealistic sheriff in the mythological American Old West and saying, "I wrote a story of the United States!" Truly, are there no other stories to write of China than of this world of silks and tea? If we want to stay with historical fiction of China, are there no other eras of classes from which to draw across its thousands of years of history? Reading this felt oddly voyeuristic, so focused through this single misaligned peephole into a vast and complex culture.
It's true that I have also been recently reading contemporary writers from China, and so perhaps the comparison isn't entirely fair. But there it is, a comparison. There are far better choices into literary China, and I don't see what this book in that light has to offer.
But I'm afraid that neither of these historical premises (foot-binding and other suffering by Chinese and Japanese women for the sake of beauty nor the language of nu shu) are nearly sufficient to sustain a good novel. I found myself frustrated at two levels:
First, the characters and their own growth itself: we might hope to see the development of their ideas, of their relationship, of their understanding of their own condition, etc. But these fundamentals to storytelling take a far backseat to outside events (many beyond their experience or understanding) which impact their fortunes. What political drama which exists within the female community itself is also resolved through time and death, not through the actions or understandings of our protagonists. In other words, our characters are long-suffering from start to finish. And yes, this might be "historically accurate," but this is not a history; it's a novel. The final conflict/complication around the secret language (the sustained conceit for the story) arises from such a simply elementary misunderstanding as to be unreasonably ignorant even from this white male reader's immediate response. Is <i>this</i> really what we have been building towards?
My second concern is a bit different, and I admit that I believe reading writers like James Clavell (Shogun) and Arthur Golden (Memoirs of a Geisha) is problematic. I kept asking myself not just why I was reading this (it came recommended), but why it was written. It's a bit like writing about an idealistic sheriff in the mythological American Old West and saying, "I wrote a story of the United States!" Truly, are there no other stories to write of China than of this world of silks and tea? If we want to stay with historical fiction of China, are there no other eras of classes from which to draw across its thousands of years of history? Reading this felt oddly voyeuristic, so focused through this single misaligned peephole into a vast and complex culture.
It's true that I have also been recently reading contemporary writers from China, and so perhaps the comparison isn't entirely fair. But there it is, a comparison. There are far better choices into literary China, and I don't see what this book in that light has to offer.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death of parent and Death
Moderate: Grief, Classism, Domestic abuse, Physical abuse, Emotional abuse, Toxic relationship, Gaslighting, Sexual content, Child death, Confinement, Suicide, Pregnancy, War, Rape, Misogyny, Infertility, Injury/Injury detail, Pandemic/Epidemic, Miscarriage, and Medical trauma
Small Wonder by Barbara Kingsolver
challenging
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.0
This is an exceptional collection of work, written part as balm against the wounds of 9/11, part as assemblage of pastoral ethic against the self-serving amoral politics of our time. As such, much of it resonates as powerfully now as it did nearly 20 years ago.
Kingsolver covers a wide range of topics--more than one might think relevant to a post-Twin Tower memoir--but they have a coherence at once intensely personal (letters to her daughter and mother are particularly moving) and philosophically articulate. True, Kingsolver is quite traditional, even unapologetically folksy, in her beliefs. And for any enviro-conscious readers, her naturalist lifestyle feels by now quite old-hat and even out of date with the political assertiveness of our times. After all, absenting one's self from the debate hardly makes for an ethic of responsibility.
But Kingsolver demonstrates in many ways that her writing is very much that engagement. At moments heavy-handed and even quaintly preachy (as she speaks of the perils of television, for instance), she nonetheless forwards a way of thinking about what peaceful virtues--with a little reflection and privilege of choice--our lives might instead discover. Don't believe she is unprepared for the violence around us (far from it), but she finds no value in our unending machinations and political rhetoric which excuses it. Fundamentally feminist, politically left, and domestically conservative, Kingsolver walks a line which itself is somewhat bygone, though in her beautiful prose feels necessary.
Wisely, Kingsolver largely speaks for herself, recognizing that not everyone's experiences can ever be hers. Nonetheless, I felt myself nodding far more frequently than smirking, reading an argument for living I might envy though never fully embrace.
Kingsolver covers a wide range of topics--more than one might think relevant to a post-Twin Tower memoir--but they have a coherence at once intensely personal (letters to her daughter and mother are particularly moving) and philosophically articulate. True, Kingsolver is quite traditional, even unapologetically folksy, in her beliefs. And for any enviro-conscious readers, her naturalist lifestyle feels by now quite old-hat and even out of date with the political assertiveness of our times. After all, absenting one's self from the debate hardly makes for an ethic of responsibility.
But Kingsolver demonstrates in many ways that her writing is very much that engagement. At moments heavy-handed and even quaintly preachy (as she speaks of the perils of television, for instance), she nonetheless forwards a way of thinking about what peaceful virtues--with a little reflection and privilege of choice--our lives might instead discover. Don't believe she is unprepared for the violence around us (far from it), but she finds no value in our unending machinations and political rhetoric which excuses it. Fundamentally feminist, politically left, and domestically conservative, Kingsolver walks a line which itself is somewhat bygone, though in her beautiful prose feels necessary.
Wisely, Kingsolver largely speaks for herself, recognizing that not everyone's experiences can ever be hers. Nonetheless, I felt myself nodding far more frequently than smirking, reading an argument for living I might envy though never fully embrace.
Prometheus Bound and Other Plays by Aeschylus
dark
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
We don't read Aeschylus today for dramatic depth or nuance. In Prometheus Bound, for instance, there is nothing like subtlety or character growth. Instead, like most of classical drama, the works are exercises in mythology and pedagogical theme. Even so, digging a bit into these remains far more enlightening than any Wikipedia article or contemporary blogger is likely to offer.
Prometheus, for instance, is portrayed as the noble victim (a role Milton will later grant Lucifer) against a cruel tyrant whose justice is absolute and arbitrary. Zeus's loyal subjects are devoted through fear alone; their morality is purely transactional. The idea that one could hold principles above one's own life is--in Aeschylus's time (and ours)--a quaint and impotent virtue of a past era. Thus the Titans have fallen or gone into hiding with only Prometheus publicly displayed as immortal pariah, not spared even the mercy of death for his suffering. Along the way, near kin, sympathetic family, and fellow cursed victims visit him.
Prometheus has much to say, of course, about his devotion to mankind, and we can also see him as proud, defiant, and devoted to a justice which may return generations later after still more have cruelly suffered. His arguments are straightforward and oft-repeated; the strategies offered by his visitors are also simple and poorly-reasoned, but we aren't looking for nuance. In the classical theater, the message feels hammered, the tragedy wrought in extremes.
Even so, reading it today still feels oddly apropos as morality and principle seem harder to come by, as transactional values seem more prevalent. Prometheus gave mankind fire, but with it the entirety of art and craft, of learning and culture. What must be done with it?
Prometheus, for instance, is portrayed as the noble victim (a role Milton will later grant Lucifer) against a cruel tyrant whose justice is absolute and arbitrary. Zeus's loyal subjects are devoted through fear alone; their morality is purely transactional. The idea that one could hold principles above one's own life is--in Aeschylus's time (and ours)--a quaint and impotent virtue of a past era. Thus the Titans have fallen or gone into hiding with only Prometheus publicly displayed as immortal pariah, not spared even the mercy of death for his suffering. Along the way, near kin, sympathetic family, and fellow cursed victims visit him.
Prometheus has much to say, of course, about his devotion to mankind, and we can also see him as proud, defiant, and devoted to a justice which may return generations later after still more have cruelly suffered. His arguments are straightforward and oft-repeated; the strategies offered by his visitors are also simple and poorly-reasoned, but we aren't looking for nuance. In the classical theater, the message feels hammered, the tragedy wrought in extremes.
Even so, reading it today still feels oddly apropos as morality and principle seem harder to come by, as transactional values seem more prevalent. Prometheus gave mankind fire, but with it the entirety of art and craft, of learning and culture. What must be done with it?
Content Warnings
Moderate: Violence and Death
Breezeway: New Poems by John Ashbery
challenging
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
2.75
I wanted very much to read this collection of poetry, as I have admired the single doses of Ashbery I had received up to this point. So first, if you are seeking more traditional verse that opens itself to understanding, run away now.
This accounts for many of the reviews of Ashbery: his simple language nonetheless yields little comprehension. Half-utterances collide with others in non sequiturs which occasionally make reference to popular culture, more often to what appear inside jokes or private talks, all from the seeming musings of an elderly speaker gamely spry and moderately hip. This poetry was not "above my head"--I leave such claims for Blake or parts of Eliot. No, Ashbery here is just difficult: and that "difficult" is in his opacity to readers. His poetry isn't hard; the author is, and not for any reason that I can account for. The occasional nugget of wry insight (a promise of meaning, perhaps?) is quickly buried in the bizarre.
If the answer is that his poetry reveals a flippancy and irreverence to culture, events, and relationships, my response is that each of his works carries essentially this same unchanging message. Why read more than one? My fear is that, as this is one of his later collections, old John may be phoning it in.
But I admit to not having read near enough to make such a general claim. Instead, I will say that this is not a good entry point for Ashbery. Surely--surely--there is a better one.
This accounts for many of the reviews of Ashbery: his simple language nonetheless yields little comprehension. Half-utterances collide with others in non sequiturs which occasionally make reference to popular culture, more often to what appear inside jokes or private talks, all from the seeming musings of an elderly speaker gamely spry and moderately hip. This poetry was not "above my head"--I leave such claims for Blake or parts of Eliot. No, Ashbery here is just difficult: and that "difficult" is in his opacity to readers. His poetry isn't hard; the author is, and not for any reason that I can account for. The occasional nugget of wry insight (a promise of meaning, perhaps?) is quickly buried in the bizarre.
If the answer is that his poetry reveals a flippancy and irreverence to culture, events, and relationships, my response is that each of his works carries essentially this same unchanging message. Why read more than one? My fear is that, as this is one of his later collections, old John may be phoning it in.
But I admit to not having read near enough to make such a general claim. Instead, I will say that this is not a good entry point for Ashbery. Surely--surely--there is a better one.
Ghost World by Daniel Clowes
dark
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
There are lovers and haters of Ghost World, and I have to say that I understand both of them. This is an intensely off-putting book of whining nasty teen girls who punch down on a world which is often very nearly as terrible as they are. We keep seeking something to redeem somebody, anywhere, and we come up short. They use and shame their friends with an utter lack of empathy for their discomfort. They abuse strangers in cruel ways. And then they lament that no one will love them. If this is comedy (as it is billed), what is its nature? Satire? Nonsense: there is nothing here that looks like a statement of purpose. Mere parody? If so, our author Clowes shows no irony and so is as guilty. I can't fathom it.
But . . . (and it's a little qualifier, absolutely), we have a few frames that also show that our two girls are themselves vulnerable, frail, victims of a world which alienates from its absurdity. There are quiet moments of exposure: a shame-faced late-night visit, a minor act of restitution, a connection to someone more remote than even themselves. . . .
For me, I think this is almost--but not nearly--enough to redeem the story. The problem is that these moments are too few, unattached to anything significant, and lead nowhere important in the plotting. There is a crisis of friendship, but what it is based upon is difficult to follow. One could argue that such emptiness and unraveling of tidy plot is itself the point, but even here readers deserve some clarity of purpose. It's not like we've had no writers of an absurd world as models prior to Clowes. This has been done, frequently--and far better.
It's true that I unconsciously compared this to Tamaki's Skim which I recently read and is a far-better conception of two nay-saying teen girls. I highly recommend it.
But it's also true that I rewatched the film version of Ghost World, and this is a far better story. I relate it here only as a contrast to what the graphic novel does. First, the actors are in fine form and do a far better job of revealing that vulnerability and brokenness consistently. More, though, Clowes had a large hand in writing the screenplay and made significant changes and expansions: he tightened up the storytelling by combining major characters and events; then he expanded on the relationships with those characters. Suddenly (lo and behold!), we have much of what the graphic novel lacks: empathy and interest. The final choice of the book is suddenly much more powerful and justifiable. The film even has--what would you call it?--oh, theme.
So, I'm appreciative that I read the book first, if only because I could witness the author re-envisioning--revising--what he wanted to accomplish. Perhaps had he done such revision before publishing the graphic novel, this would have been far more successful. He's hardly the first in this club: Peter Benchley, Thomas Harris, Lauren Weisberger, Nicholas Sparks, Gregory Maguire--but at least Clowes took the chance to make it better himself. And I appreciate it!
But . . . (and it's a little qualifier, absolutely), we have a few frames that also show that our two girls are themselves vulnerable, frail, victims of a world which alienates from its absurdity. There are quiet moments of exposure: a shame-faced late-night visit, a minor act of restitution, a connection to someone more remote than even themselves. . . .
For me, I think this is almost--but not nearly--enough to redeem the story. The problem is that these moments are too few, unattached to anything significant, and lead nowhere important in the plotting. There is a crisis of friendship, but what it is based upon is difficult to follow. One could argue that such emptiness and unraveling of tidy plot is itself the point, but even here readers deserve some clarity of purpose. It's not like we've had no writers of an absurd world as models prior to Clowes. This has been done, frequently--and far better.
It's true that I unconsciously compared this to Tamaki's Skim which I recently read and is a far-better conception of two nay-saying teen girls. I highly recommend it.
But it's also true that I rewatched the film version of Ghost World, and this is a far better story. I relate it here only as a contrast to what the graphic novel does. First, the actors are in fine form and do a far better job of revealing that vulnerability and brokenness consistently. More, though, Clowes had a large hand in writing the screenplay and made significant changes and expansions: he tightened up the storytelling by combining major characters and events; then he expanded on the relationships with those characters. Suddenly (lo and behold!), we have much of what the graphic novel lacks: empathy and interest. The final choice of the book is suddenly much more powerful and justifiable. The film even has--what would you call it?--oh, theme.
So, I'm appreciative that I read the book first, if only because I could witness the author re-envisioning--revising--what he wanted to accomplish. Perhaps had he done such revision before publishing the graphic novel, this would have been far more successful. He's hardly the first in this club: Peter Benchley, Thomas Harris, Lauren Weisberger, Nicholas Sparks, Gregory Maguire--but at least Clowes took the chance to make it better himself. And I appreciate it!
Content Warnings
Moderate: Sexual content, Toxic relationship, Deadnaming, Suicidal thoughts, Bullying, Toxic friendship, Classism, Outing, Ableism, Emotional abuse, and Gaslighting
For many readers, these controversial topics and bullying practices of all kinds through the book are not resolved or redeemed.
The Oracle Year by Charles Soule
adventurous
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.75
There's a lot that's just "thriller-level" fun along with Soule's too-long story of a man given the power of prophecy. Turns out, everyone wants a political piece of that action (no surprise) and, no surprise, the prophecies wreak their own kind of action on the endless chase scenes which follow.
Soule spends no real time on crafting anything but a page-turning story (true to his superhero action-comic background), and his lauded satire here is fairly predictable--no prophecy needed: what? a televangelist is more corrupt than pious? What? a US President is more self-serving to his own re-election than to the good of the country? Do go on! So, outside of a few clever scenes and strategizing about preserving celebrity anonymity in a digital world, the book seems designed (please please please, says its author) to be optioned for a television mini-series.
Now, it's clear I'm not a big fan of the read, but this is largely because it sprawls across hundreds of pages of similar action sequences and slower unwrapping of new revelations. The story is fun, absolutely. And it would have been real fun and even provocative at about 120 pages rather than 400. Yup, fairly culturally and gender-stereotyped, heroically under-dogged, and reservedly satirical, fun.
Soule spends no real time on crafting anything but a page-turning story (true to his superhero action-comic background), and his lauded satire here is fairly predictable--no prophecy needed: what? a televangelist is more corrupt than pious? What? a US President is more self-serving to his own re-election than to the good of the country? Do go on! So, outside of a few clever scenes and strategizing about preserving celebrity anonymity in a digital world, the book seems designed (please please please, says its author) to be optioned for a television mini-series.
Now, it's clear I'm not a big fan of the read, but this is largely because it sprawls across hundreds of pages of similar action sequences and slower unwrapping of new revelations. The story is fun, absolutely. And it would have been real fun and even provocative at about 120 pages rather than 400. Yup, fairly culturally and gender-stereotyped, heroically under-dogged, and reservedly satirical, fun.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Sexism, Religious bigotry, Violence, Racism, Gun violence, Death, and War
Ape and Essence by Aldous Huxley
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
Huxley's experimental form in Ape and Essence (a movie transcript partially framed inside a couple of Hollywood-types seeking its author) is an intriguing choice. I wondered frequently what it accomplished: What does the story frame (offered only in Chapter 1 and not again) and then the odd, surreal, hypnotic story (with apocalyptic fables, ape characters, and pseudo-Greek chorus beside a post-war irradiated survivor-society)--what does it add to Huxley's clearly satirical and heavy-handed lecturing on human morality? My answer is, largely nothing but a creative distraction, perhaps from the ranting politics of its author (only poorly disguised as the script-writer himself).
So distracting was this quaalude-induced storybuilding, that I had a difficult time enjoying Huxley's vision for what it was: a darkly accurate portrayal of how close to the cultural skin our biology sits, and how a literal flick-of-the-social-switch can turn human behavior upon itself, transform our sense of reason and submission, surrender our ambition to happiness to one of deserved misery. And it requires little more than a reinterpretation, a reinscribing, of our existing symbols to accomplish it. As intimate as culture and biology are, so too are Christianity and devilry, procreation and devastation, abeyance and detestation, peace and destruction.
Many are reading this now, in the 2020s, as prophetic of our current political malaise, globally and in the US. I agree that we can be much informed by books like this, our politician machinations and our own subservience might be made transparent. But nothing about Huxley is merely contemporary: this condition of fragility has always existed, and for this, missing Huxley for the over-obsessed Orwell misses something darker in our own hearts.
So reading Ape and Essence now--whenever your now is--makes a lot of sense. Just swallow hard at the opening weirdness, feel free to dig into the first chapter's historical references or not, but dwell on the story. And pray for detumescence.
So distracting was this quaalude-induced storybuilding, that I had a difficult time enjoying Huxley's vision for what it was: a darkly accurate portrayal of how close to the cultural skin our biology sits, and how a literal flick-of-the-social-switch can turn human behavior upon itself, transform our sense of reason and submission, surrender our ambition to happiness to one of deserved misery. And it requires little more than a reinterpretation, a reinscribing, of our existing symbols to accomplish it. As intimate as culture and biology are, so too are Christianity and devilry, procreation and devastation, abeyance and detestation, peace and destruction.
Many are reading this now, in the 2020s, as prophetic of our current political malaise, globally and in the US. I agree that we can be much informed by books like this, our politician machinations and our own subservience might be made transparent. But nothing about Huxley is merely contemporary: this condition of fragility has always existed, and for this, missing Huxley for the over-obsessed Orwell misses something darker in our own hearts.
So reading Ape and Essence now--whenever your now is--makes a lot of sense. Just swallow hard at the opening weirdness, feel free to dig into the first chapter's historical references or not, but dwell on the story. And pray for detumescence.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Torture, Sexual content, Sexual violence, and Child death
Moderate: War
This is a stark novel on the bestial nature of mankind, very explicit for Huxley's time (1948).
Two Viking Romances by Anonymous
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
fast-paced
3.5
Say to yourself, "Hey, I've always wondered what is was like to sit around a mead hall and hear a good traditional Viking story," inhale these two short tales (excerpted from a larger Penguin Seven Viking Romances, and you've pretty much succeeded.
Filled with family trees (which meant something more to somebody once), giants, promiscuous farmers' daughters, corruption and honor, more giants, horny warrior heroes, magic, beautiful princesses, monsters, giants, glorious deaths, and several unremarkable sea voyages, all in two stories that one hour's read can complete -- what more could you really ask for?
I imagine that some might offer historical context to stories like these (and a brief intro does just this), but they can be appreciated for the tale-telling alone, for their historical moment which has set the tone for folk tales and fantasies afterward, and we need not wonder or worry overmuch about their higher literary merit.
Oh, and the book size is cute, too.
Filled with family trees (which meant something more to somebody once), giants, promiscuous farmers' daughters, corruption and honor, more giants, horny warrior heroes, magic, beautiful princesses, monsters, giants, glorious deaths, and several unremarkable sea voyages, all in two stories that one hour's read can complete -- what more could you really ask for?
I imagine that some might offer historical context to stories like these (and a brief intro does just this), but they can be appreciated for the tale-telling alone, for their historical moment which has set the tone for folk tales and fantasies afterward, and we need not wonder or worry overmuch about their higher literary merit.
Oh, and the book size is cute, too.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Violence, Sexism, and Sexual content
Moderate: Death
The Vinland Sagas: The Norse Discovery of America by Unknown
adventurous
informative
medium-paced
3.0
This book is a handy read of the "original" two Viking sagas which document Leif Erikson's white discovery of America around 1000 CE. Neither of the sagas was written during the time of the discovery (true of so much of our classical and medieval-era history!), but the hefty introduction to this work (nearly 50 pages) accounts for the verification of the documents, their own history and translation, and archaeological and other scientific evidence which leads us to support their veracity.
Here's the thing. This Penguin edition is from the mid-1960s, so the introduction is quite dated, and so much evidence in all these camps has been accumulated since then that I felt I was reading a fair amount of speculation for its day. (Later evidence has more fully supported the events, of course.)
The readings of the sagas themselves, then, are what I recommend, and each is brief and readable in a short sitting. They vary in details (and focus by their writers), and you can easily see the challenges they had in relating a valid history and developing a communal ethic vs merely relating a listenable tale. The saga, of course, had to accomplish all of these, so dividing fact from entertaining tale-telling is part of the challenge, though historical maps of the time also verify the events of the travel.
Its unfortunate that more recent writers have both further verified the story and also added a new level of conspiracy-theory to the explorations, some suggesting that the Vikings reached as far as Minnesota (please please don't ask or give them an ear).
Instead, then, if you come across this, read the sagas themselves, but before and afterwards, dig a bit into what we now know of their writing and veracity rather than read the outdated material here or sensationalized documentaries today!
Here's the thing. This Penguin edition is from the mid-1960s, so the introduction is quite dated, and so much evidence in all these camps has been accumulated since then that I felt I was reading a fair amount of speculation for its day. (Later evidence has more fully supported the events, of course.)
The readings of the sagas themselves, then, are what I recommend, and each is brief and readable in a short sitting. They vary in details (and focus by their writers), and you can easily see the challenges they had in relating a valid history and developing a communal ethic vs merely relating a listenable tale. The saga, of course, had to accomplish all of these, so dividing fact from entertaining tale-telling is part of the challenge, though historical maps of the time also verify the events of the travel.
Its unfortunate that more recent writers have both further verified the story and also added a new level of conspiracy-theory to the explorations, some suggesting that the Vikings reached as far as Minnesota (please please don't ask or give them an ear).
Instead, then, if you come across this, read the sagas themselves, but before and afterwards, dig a bit into what we now know of their writing and veracity rather than read the outdated material here or sensationalized documentaries today!