Desolation Island

Desolation Island by Patrick O'Brian
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Every once in a while, Hollywood tries to put together a nautical tale of courage and danger. White Squall, The Perfect Storm, even a movie based on this series of books -- Master and Commander. There is something about the sailor's life that is compelling. Months at sea, close quarters, the variable morality of those before the mast(the enlisted men) and those abaft the mast(the officers) cause a certain social tension.

In a book such as this, the discussion of pintels, forecastles, orlop decks, hawsers can either turn you off the book, turn you to a dictionary, or turn you into a willingly ignorant, but bedazzled spectator, as the intricacies of managing a ship are described in details that allow you to understand only the broad strokes of the action. I actually feel a lot like Dr. Maturin in the novels. I somehow feel like a knowledgeable amateur, when in fact, I only kind of know the difference between a wear and a tack(wearing is a slower way of turning to catch the wind when it's not blowing in the direction you want to go).

Somehow, above these details, the action in this entry in the series is particularly riveting. Sea chases, monster storms, and antarctic shipwrecks make for exciting reading, aside from the spy intrigue and shifting loyalties of the crew which a careful reader can get much satisfaction from. Patrick O'Brian is never one to point out the subtleties. An example is a midshipman, nervous of heights, takes one trip up the main topmast with his captain. We're never explicitly told, but his name is mentioned later, and we know his continued presence speaks of his loyalty to Lucky Jack Aubrey.

The movie made from these books is kind of a conglomerate of the novels, and it seems a few of the elements were pulled from this one. If you liked that movie, there's a good chance you'd like these books.

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The Kingdom of Gods by N.K. Jemisin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

In elementary school, we read stories about Icarus, Hercules, Midas and Zeus. We learned that Hermes was fast, and a messenger. And maybe he towed the Sun across the sky in a chariot? Neptune was kind of a jerk, and Hades was evil, but not? And of course, our Greek mythology was confused with Roman names, and there was something about the titans who wanted to swallow the world. Anyway, it was cool. Everyone likes mythology when they're little. Even if it's just for the pegasi, or the medusa.

N.K. Jemisin has tapped into that same sense of delight at a world where the powers that be are personified. These mythological characters spend most of their time loving, betraying, holding grudges, and considering the value of keeping mortals around. Then, sometimes they have to keep the world from being torn apart by crazed, ambitious, or vengeful siblings and/or offspring.

This isn't the kind of book(series of books, this is the third) I would normally like, but something about the prose, or about the characters kept me really interested. There was just enough political maneuvering, mystical action, and metaphorical adventure.

I have to mention that there was a lot of morality bending in this book. The gods' genders are malleable, and their attitude towards sex is that it is never a shallow thing, but monogamy is for mortals. I was never very comfortable with the author's treatment of all things sexual. There were two things that made it bearable. Sex was always described in spiritual terms, and almost never physical. The morality of gods was distinct from the morality of mortals. I never felt like a certain idea was being pushed. It was just that they were entirely different things.

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Simon of Space

Simon of Space by Cheeseburger Brown
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

In 2005, just before Episode III of Star Wars came out, there was a story on Slashdot.org about a blog, The Darth Side: Memoirs of a Monster, which was fan fiction, written as if from the journal of Darth Vader. At times it was funny, at times human. It was well timed for all those eagerly waiting(despite the disappointments of Episode I and II) for the birth of Darth Vader. And I think it did prepare me in some way, it made the movie seem deeper. Soon after reading the Darth Side, I saw that he had written a novel, in blog form, called Simon of Space. I began reading, and found a very compelling story and world. Melinda is wary, she doesn't like Space novels. But this is a very human story.

Simon is an amnesiac. He lost his memory in a hyperspace travel accident. Sounds like a bad sci-fi movie? That's what everybody tells him. What makes this book so enjoyable is Simon's optimism, decency, and friendliness. That and the unconventional prose. Matthew Hemming (more commonly known as CheeseBurger Brown), has a way of approaching things from a different angle. Comparing the first moments of memory to the first day of an infant's life is but one way we are able to inhabit Simon's head. The absurdity of his life encompasses the basest, crudest functions and interactions: bowel movements, hot nurses, and farting dogs, as well as the deep, complicated things: trust and fatherhood.

As Simon takes his tour, trying to find his purpose, the imagination, and preparation of Mr. Brown becomes evident in the variation and beauty of the worlds. There is obviously an entire universe with its own history to explore, and we're only seeing parts of it. He's written more stories in this universe, and if you enjoy this book, they're well worth visiting.

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March Violets

March Violets by Philip Kerr
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

This hardboiled detective novel was set in 1936 Nazi Germany. Melinda immediately asked if he was after Nazi treasure, because she was just expecting the cliche. The novel doesn't fit in that cliche, though it probably follows the film noir detective plot pretty closely.

The little bits of life under a Nazi regime are fascinating, with associations for ex-convicts, secret police, unsecret police, the non-military military uniforms, propaganda, and the olympics. These setting details don't get in the way of the story, though I sometimes wish they did. I find the details of governing through fear fascinatingly horrifying.

Unfortunately, I don't think the hardboiled genre is for me. Up until the last 3/4 of the novel, it was amusing to read the similes and metaphors that drive the point home, this guy is tough, bitter, and cynical. In the last 1/4 of the novel, it just got too dark. And it wasn't the Nazis, but the treatment of women. This just wasn't the right book for that content. I'm sure that sometimes our literature needs to expose the injustices of the world, and that sometimes means including scenes that are dark and evil. But this wasn't that book. And I'm not sure I want to read those books. I guess I'm judging a little harshly for what was probably one page of the whole book. But I didn't like that page. And it kind of ruined the book.

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The Kingdom on the Waves

The Kindgom on the Waves by M.T. Anderson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is not a happy book. The tragedy is eloquent and slow building. It's almost enough to make you wish the redcoats had won. But in the end, neither side is that sympathetic from the perspective of the slaves.

The Revolutionary war tends to be romanticized, cast as a conflict of freedom versus tyranny. A war of rhetoric and patriots. Patrick Henry: "Give me Liberty or give me death." The federalist papers. George Washington crossing the Delaware. Minutemen militias and muskets.

All of that is true. But it's all a little sanitized. The rhetoric was passionate, but also inflammatory. The Boston tea party was a mob, and they were not kind to those loyal to the king. Liberty was a grand new(ly important) idea, and it was still incomplete. Liberty to own slaves was as important as taxation without representation.

This book is about the part of the revolutionary war that was a war, with soldiers, cannon, imperfect officers, disease, poor rations, and death. The author in his afterword talks about how he wanted to dispel the historical fog that surrounds the revolutionary war. I think he did that.

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The Astonishing life of Octavian Nothing

The Pox Party by M.T. Anderson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I read this while at the same time I was watching the Civil War documentary by Ken Burns. The combination of reading about a slave living through the American Revolution and watching the terrible war fought over the evil institution made me mad. It made me mad to think that some people still try to frame that war in terms of State's rights. In reality, it was a war fought for the southern elites' right to own slaves, fought by an army where very few of the soldiers owned slaves.

Back to the book. I found the feeling of uncertainty that the characters felt about the cause of Liberty to be insightful. They were conscious of the hypocrisy inherent in rousing rebellion in the name from Liberty, while fearing that their slaves might be incited to revolt against them in retaliation. I felt that the characters exhibited true human reaction to great times, from calculation, to rapture, to misgivings and misery.

The prose, while not usually dense, leaned toward a more formal tone, emulating the letters of the time. I love reading words used in slightly different ways than we are used to. It stimulates a part of my brain that uses words. I write more when I'm reading those kinds of books, and I feel like a more interesting person.

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Some Original Fiction

Snow Crash, despite it's pulp fiction pace, still has a couple insightful moments like this one:

Until a man is twenty-five, he still thinks, every so often, that under the right circumstances he could be the baddest motherf... in the world. If I moved to a martial-arts monastery in China and studied real hard for ten years. If my family was wiped out by Colombian drug dealers and I swore myself to revenge. If I got a fatal disease, had one year to live, devoted it to wiping out street crime. If I just dropped out and devoted my life to being bad.

This rang so perfectly true, not for me, but for my wife. She's constantly playing out scenarios involving mexican drug runners, dark alleys, and martial arts(or knives, or guns). And she loves bunnies. So I wrote a story for her:

Melinda was an english lop with long, silken ears. They were finely veined, and Melinda was always careful when grooming them to never leave a mark.

Melinda was never the biggest bunny. Sometimes, in fact, she was the littlest rabbit, but she was always careful to eat healthy foods, and exercise regularly. She would tie her ears back, and make experimental runs in her little part of the forest.

Melinda had a little sister that she loved to visit. They liked to talk about different ways to spruce up their burrows, or different ways to prepare their meals of Italian parsley, with Cheerio croutons, and garnished with small triangles of banana.

One day Melinda heard about a new way to make a banana pie. She wanted to share this with her sister. As she hopped towards her sister's burrow, she began to worry. Something seemed off. Maybe there was too much quiet, or maybe some of the undergrowth wasn't where she remembered it. By the time she got to her sister's burrow, she was creeping forward on her belly.

She sat just inside a hawthorn bush and watched and listened, waiting, almost paralyzed. Finally she heard scuffling, and a group of chinchillas were backing out of her sisters burrow. Dragged behind them, kicking powerfully, and swearing as only she could, was her sister.

Melinda's first instinct was to charge. She always imagined herself as hardcore. She knew she was in shape. She knew she had an aggressive streak. She knew... that in reality, she was the littlest rabbit. And littlest rabbits don't win by charging. Littlest rabbits observe from the shadows. They look for advantages. They find leverage, and they are patient. So she squashed her instinct, opened her eyes, and watched, disapproving, as the chinchillas did their slow, nefarious work.

She saw their darting gazes, alert for dangers from every dark crevice. Melinda saw her angle. She darted from bush to bush, pausing only long enough to rustle a branch, or to leave stones skittering behind her. When the chinchillas, obviously out of their element, began to look all around them in alarm, Melinda leaped, with a prodigious thump, high into the air.

Later practitioners of the buninja arts would call what she did then, "death from above". Her work done, melinda licked her ear. Her sister stepped away from the chinchilla she had disposed of in the chaos of the fray, and invited her back for a cup of mint tea. Melinda and her sister enjoyed a beautiful banana pie.