R17. Divided Kingdom by Rupert Thomson [classic]

Context: This is the last of the "classic" reviews, and thus the most recent. I have a clear physical memory of this book, if not its content. It was summer of 2006, my heart was broken, and, if you'll forgive the drama of this metaphor, every moment was a blade. I read a lot of books that summer, sneakily borrowed from the collection of the people whose basement I occupied, or hauled from the library a mile away, in huge bunches, during the pleasant warm evenings. The first one was 1984, which we'll get to eventually, and then maybe I'll tell you the story that I've alluded to in the following review. Also, I don't remember what the "mystery" that I've written about here actually was.

Year Published: 2005
Pages: 396

First Sentence: There were men in my room, and it was bright, too bright, and I was being lifted out of bed.

Review:
I first heard of this book from a review in Asimov's Science Fiction which had nothing but praise for the book. I, however, am somewhat less than impressed. Similar to The Man in the High Castle, I feel that there was a lot of potential to this concept that went to waste. Before I get into that too much, though, I should explain a little bit about Divided Kingdom and what exactly the "concept" I'm referring to is.

I like to compare this book to Orwell's 1984, in that it takes place in the not-so-distant future when the world has taken a drastic turn for the worse. In the case of Divided Kingdom, the aforesaid "turn for the worse" takes the form of a Rearrangement of the population of the United Kingdom into four quarters. People are classified into groups according to the four humours of old: the Red Quarter houses those who are sanguine, the Blue Quarter is home to the phlegmatics, cholerics are in the Yellow Quarter, and melancholics find themselves in the Green. Super cool, no? While it is definitely somewhat implausible, I really enjoy the idea of using old-school medical folly to divide a population. Anyway, our hero is Thomas Parry, who is probably the most boring protagonist that I've ever encountered. He is a gentleman of the Red Quarter, taken from his parents at the age of eight or so, given a new name and blah. He runs away.

There is something chronically wrong with the pacing in this book. I never once felt myself caught up in Thomas's adventure. There was one mystery in particular that I really just didn't understand. While the entire idea of a split along psychological lines is both really neat and implausible, this other mystery seems really just weird. I don't know if Thomson tossed it in to let the reader know that he wasn't really taking the idea that seriously either, or what. The trouble with pacing may also originate with the protagonist. I didn't like him at all. Maybe it was that he was middle aged. Maybe it was the numbness that he acknowledged within himself, because honestly there was a bit of a connection, however brief, when he'd mention his separation from his parents.

Whatever my reasons for disliking the main character and for the book being tragically slow, it remains a fact that I didn't really enjoy reading this book at all. I just felt like nothing really happened in it. In a way, 1984 has the same sort of anti-climax. The difference being that when I read 1984 I was really just desperately looking for a distraction, and probably would've read, you know, a textbook in a foreign language if I hadn't had the novel handy.

Overall, 1984 is a far superior book. You can go ahead and read Divided Kingdom; it's got decent prose, cute metaphors too. Although sometimes these metaphors assert themselves just a bit too much, and you feel like Thomson is maybe trying just a bit too hard. Something for a plane ride, or a distraction, but not favourite book material, I'd say.

R15. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J. K. Rowling [classic]

Oh man, you guys, this is the second last "classic" review! However, next month we're going to be taking a detour into NaNoWriMo...land? or whatever you want to call it. It counts because I'm writing a Harlequin-style romance novel this year! -M.R.

Context: I'm definitely a fan of the Harry Potter series, but I'm not what you might call a super fan. I've only read the books once, except for the first one, which I read to my brother. And I've only seen each movie once, although I did wait outside in the snow to get into the theatre on opening night to see the second one. I've never written fanfiction of it or anything like that, but I did go to the midnight release of the final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which comes after this one (everyone and their dog should know that, of course, but just in case...). I'm not sure I agree with 2005!me on every point of this review, but I still tend to think that Rowling burned through the final books a little too fast, and the books definitely seem to make a leap from children's to YA fiction partway through the series. I made a lot of allusions to things in this review that I could probably elaborate on right now, but I think I'll save that for some future posts.

Year Published: 2005
Pages: 652

First Sentence: Somehow I couldn't find this on the internet and I don't have my own copy of the book. Anyone is welcome to help me out! hehe

Review:
Alas, I made the terrible error of visiting a book message board shortly after the release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince where no one bothered to announce their spoilers (since it's obvious that everyone read this book within the first day after it was released, and didn't have to share it with their younger sister, who is the actual owner of it), and, anyway, I found out who dies in this book. Not, albeit, how, but still. I didn't even know someone was supposed to die. I guess I'm just not a loyal enough Potter fan.

But anyway, to review (and I'm honestly going to try to do a proper job of it this time!), we must first begin by explaining the basic premise. Harry Potter, as always, goes away to school and finds himself in the midst of exciting and evil whatnot. That's basically it, when it comes down to the bare bones of this book. The whole series, in fact. What I'd really love is to see it on Book-A-Minute*.

But I'm getting off-track, and using the word 'anyway' too much. Let's continue.

What I have to say right now, what I said immediately to my sister when she asked me what I thought of this book, is this: it's not a children's book anymore. Really when you think about it, the Harry Potter books have never been children's books in the ideal sense--and I'm not talking about how magic is evil and satanic. I'm just talking about some really disturbing subject matter. But then, conversely, a lot of the stuff here is pretty much identical to the dumbed-down versions of old-school fairy tales. So whatever. It's some sort of a tie. But now, we've got Horny Harry and his buddies running around kissing everybody; and then we've got people dying left, right and centre. I don't know where this qualifies as something that's fit to be read by young children. Or, you know, to read to them. Either way.

Of course, I'm not suggesting that Rowling should censor herself. The books would be a great deal worse because of it. It's just that I think the marketing strategy needs to be changed. Whatever, I'm reviewing the book, not... this.

Rowling is cutting corners. I recall, from my reading of the first four books over a period of six days, being annoyed four separate times by a description of Quidditch. The fifth book is all but disappeared from my memory, but I know for sure that there was no description of Quidditch in this book. Cut corner number one. I'm too lazy to think of others--cutting my own corners, you see--but I'm sure there were more. I guess maybe this was to avoid writing a thousand page book, which, no matter how you slice it, would be much too similar-looking to a Bible, and then wouldn't the fanatics scream? Rowling doesn't want to be burned at the stake, I'm sure.

Overall, despite cut corners and shocking subject matter (well, not really, it's not like she keeps dallying off into descriptive sex scenes like Ms. Auel) Harry Potter and blahblahblah wasn't a terrible book at all. It was quite entertaining on the superficial level, and that's the truth. Although Rowling quite efficaciously didn't avoid the cliché of having the evil people confess in long speeches at the end, I guess she can be forgiven since she's still the biggest rock star author who's ever existed.

*In fact, the first book of the series is right here.

R14. The Earth's Children series by Jean M. Auel [classic]

Context: I feel bad because the actual review is so sparse, so I'm going to try to give some extra context and thoughts about this. I'm also writing this without consulting the content of my old review, just knowing that it's about five lines long, so forgive me if there's any overlap.

A couple of weekends ago at the bookstore, I came across a book called The Fire in the Stone about prehistoric fiction, and resolved to add it to my list of things to read, because I obviously don't have time for detours like that just now. Does this sort of thing qualify as archaeology? Because if it does then it's one of those areas that I'm sort of interested in (meaning I haven't actively sought out any further information just yet), but don't know a lot about. I also love the wild hypotheses of evolutionary psychology, and things like that. Eventually I'll be finished reading all these novels, and can take some time to immerse myself in non-fiction.

But anyway, I really did love the Earth's Children series. I'm not positive when I started reading it, although I think it was sometime after grade ten or eleven, and I finished it probably a couple of years ago (that's if there isn't another book after The Shelters of Stone). These books are pretty enormous, even by my standards, and a lot of that volume is taken up by listing the flora and fauna of the Ice Age, and, in all the books after The Clan of the Cave Bear, sex and more sex. There was actually a lot to dislike, for example the main character's apparent prescience. Yuck.

Whether they were spectacular works of art or not, though, I think I value the series more for the things that it made me think about than the actual experience of reading it. These books made the most distant human past feel immediate in the same way that the worn steps in an old castle can make you suddenly aware of the feet that made them that way. Jean M. Auel's prehistory is so bright and optimistic, too, which may actually be more realistic than the struggling and squalor, given that we survived and have the internet, what may or may not be the crowning achievement of civilization so far. I read an article last weekend that got into the whole modern man and thought thing, which is here in case you want to have a look.

Oh, and one last thing! If you thought "Renesme" (sp?) was a horrible choice for a name, try "Jonayla." That would be like if Angeline Jolie and Brad Pitt named their baby "Brangelina." Why would anyone think that this is a good idea?!

Year Published: 1980-2002
Pages: 3139 (based on numbers from Wikipedia and Google)

First Sentence: (from the first book) The naked child ran out of the hide-covered lean-to toward the rocky beach at the bend in the small river.

Review:
July 25, 2005 - Okay, here's where it starts: this series is good, except for the fact that after the first book, Ms. Auel seems to have gotten extremely horny and interested in describing large volumes of sex. I don't read these books for smut, I read them for their ... everything other than that. Their stories, their facts, their fictions. If I wanted smut, I would find it in Harlequin romance novels, not books about prehistoric humanity.

That is, at this time, the extent of my review for this series (into which I'm three books deep). Later, I'm sure I'll have more to add.

August 13, 2006 - I really enjoy these books, even though they're pretty much ridiculous. At least half fantasy, but they make me wish that I was a cavewoman.

Despite Auel's portrayal of prehistoric humanity as a bunch of hippies, the Earth's Children books can really make you (or me, at least) think. They've made me realize that these people were actually people, just like you or me. But, I'm not in the mood to complete another review right now, so blah. :|

R13. The Red Tent by Anita Diamant [classic]

Only three "classic" reviews left after this one. Still not sure what I'll be doing after I've run out of them. -M.R.

Context: I still have very fond memories of reading this book, although I'm not sure I'd still agree with the sweeping generalizations I've made in this review. Unfortunately, I read this book before I started keeping a book journal, and I don't remember anymore what part I've eluded to that made me cry. Also, fun fact: the first book to make me cry was Catherine Marshall's Christy, which inspired the Christy tv series that I loved with my entire nine year-old heart and can't find on youtube for some reason.

Year Published: 1997
Pages: 321

First Sentence: We have been lost to each other for so long.

Review:
Oh wow. First things first, this is only the second book ever to make me cry. Seriously, I shed tears over this thing.

And there's no punch line that I was crying only because it was so terrible, either. This was an excellent, excellent book. I will hazard that males may not find it quite so enjoyable. As I informed one friend, it's pretty "womanish."

The story is that of Dinah, one of the many women in the Bible mentioned only in passing. However, Dinah is given several verses worth of a story, where most are only named. Apparently she was no Esther, but her story was interesting and bloody enough to be noted. You don't need to be Jewish or Christian to appreciate this story, though. It isn't preachy, and even though I grabbed my Bible again and read a bit of it because I'd forgotten the story as it is told there, you don't need to do that either.

The only danger is in believing Diamant too much. This is after all, what she imagines Dinah felt, not what was actually experienced. By which I mean that maybe what Diamant describes as love really was rape.

Or then again, maybe not.

There is stunning depth and tragedy here, and Dinah's story is not only evocative, but interesting. This was a bestseller for a reason. Again I will caution that this book would probably not entertain the vast majority of men to the extent that it entertained me. First of all, it is principally (pretty close to entirely) about women, and the women's world which we've all but lost. There are no battles, although there is murder and lots of overall sensual earthiness (which I don't know how to describe any better than that).

This book made me think, which I appreciate. So much that is written isn't designed to provoke thought, but simply to entertain. The Red Tent accomplishes both, not necessarily with 'style and panache' but rather with simplicity and grace of storytelling. Basically, what I concluded from reading this thing and enjoying it so much, is that we women love our right to vote, and being 'persons,' but deep down we miss this entire separate world that used to be ours.

And I won't tell you what part made me cry.

R12. The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick [classic]

Sorry about the "interesting points that I'm definitely interested in" last week, you guys. I had a cold... That's my only excuse. Another "classic" review this week. -M.R.

Context: I actually don't really remember when I read this one or much about reading it, but I know I'd really like to have another look at it. I'm not quite willing to stand behind this review anymore, because a ton of sf nerds love to drool all over "PKD" and I need to give him a few more shots before I dismiss him entirely like I seem to've done here. So far I've read this book and The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, which was... okay. But then I've seen Blade Runner and A Scanner Darkly and really enjoyed both. (Obviously I know that's not the same thing as reading the books they're adapted from, but it still seemed like a relevant detail.)

Year Published: 1962
Pages: 272

First Sentence: For a week Mr. R. Childan had been anxiously watching the mail.

Review:
This book was not as awesome as it could've been, not by a long shot. Okay, sure, it won a Hugo and everything, but my theory is that it's just because the concept is so neat. The writing, however, leaves much to be desired, at least by me.

For one thing, PKD (as I will abbreviate the author's name over the course of this review so that I can avoid any bad jokes involving the word 'Dick') makes use of, at certain times, a very halting sort of language. I don't recall now whether it was articles that he was leaving out, or what (and I no longer have the grammatical expertise to truly define what he was doing anyway), but it disrupted the whole flow of the narrative. What I mean by that is that I was much too aware, at times, that I was reading. Perhaps there was a certain effect he was going for, a semblance or parallel he was trying to draw with the speech pattern of his Japanese characters. Maybe it works on some people, but it certainly didn't work on me.

Also, there's use of German in this book and I, like many others, don't speak German. I don't read it, either. That's why it would've been nice for PKD to toss in some translations, because every once in awhile I felt like I was really missing out on something where the German bits are concerned. Not a lot, of course, but enough.

We now come to the perplexing ending. Don't worry, I won't give it away or anything. But what the hell? Many a promising sf story is sadly marred by an obscure or absurd ending. Case in point: John Wyndham's The Chrysalids. The ending for The Man in the High Castle wasn't even close to being that awful, but it was still... well, it was just weird. Maybe PKD was trying to lighten things up a little, given that his subject matter on the whole was pretty bleak, but if that's the case, then it kind of cheapens the whole novel. Alternate history is about saying what could have been, rather than, "This could've happened, but oh God, that's way too scary, so I, the author, am going to cop out at the end so that my readers don't get too unsettled." Terrible terrible. Of course, that's not necessarily the case. I may just have to give PKD the benefit of the doubt: that he was not self-censoring, but rather making a point, and that point went over my head.

Maybe the key was in the untranslated German phrases.

R11. The Black Cat by Robert Poe [classic]

Here is a very timely A.V. Club article discussing some of the points that came up last week. I just read it last night, but I really wish I'd seen it when it was first posted.

I'm going to be taking a short break from reviewing the romnovs. This isn't because I feel that I'm doing anything wrong, just because a) they mostly aren't much fun to read, and b) I'm trying to figure out how to continue the project in a way that makes me comfortable with the fact that some author might see what I've said about his or her book(s). The "R" in the romnov numbering is going to stand for "Random" for a little while. However, because I don't have any reviews of other books prepared, and haven't read anything recently enough to do a good review of it, I'm going to post some "classic" reviews that I originally wrote for my old angelfire website. None of these was written more recently than 2006. Some of them are less than generous, however since they've already been on the internet, I feel less weird posting them than I would posting a new romnov review (at the moment, anyway). And they're all pretty horrible. Better than nothing, though, right? -M.R.

Context: None available, really. To this day I'll read anything that catches my eye, but I couldn't tell you why this one did, except that I truly do like E.A. Poe.

Year Published: 1998
Pages: 278

Review:
I am not going to say that this book was all bad. But I am going to say that Robert Poe isn't the greatest writer in the entire world. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

When you write, you don't want the reader to be aware that they are reading. You want them to be completely and totally unaware of that fact. So, Mr. Poe manages this most of the time, but then every once in a while, he'll slip some strangeness into the narrative or dialogue that brings you back to reality with an unpleasant jolt.

As far as the plot was considered, it was actually pretty good. It was kind of structured around the original Edgar Allan Poe story by the same name as the novel, which I liked, because good ole Edgar Allan is one of my favourites. However, there were a few not-so-cool loose ends, and some awkwardness in the characters. For example, the Reverend What's-his-name was fanatical, for no reason. The novel could've been much better than it was.

Another problem was that Poe was a complete idiot about his subject matter. Well, maybe not quite that bad. Maybe it was just the topic that was stupid. I'm referring to the discussion of heavy metal fans, that kind of thing. Poe made it so that the average teenager who listened to heavy metal was a complete creep. Listening to a certain band entailed that the teenagers were immediately misguided. I don't know. It was just absurd.

There were a lot of good elements to this novel, but towards the end, I'm not sure if it was out of boredom and the necessity to finish or suspense that kept me reading.