I am almost but not completely ready to discuss Armada by Ernest Cline; almost, a few antidotal paragraphs are vital as I procrastinate my reluctance to acknowledge my distain. Thankfully, my fortuitous decision to serve up a slice of chocolate cake with my morning coffee is lulling me into a false sense of sugary safety.
Unaccustomed to October play-off major league baseball, Canada rightly so, decided to whole-heartedly lose it's marbles. During the 1992 World Series, I witnessed my dear father rise from the depths of our den, walk calmly to the front door, step out into the cold Saskatchewan wind and shout to the heavens "Okay, Blue Jays, Let's Play Ball!". From there, this large, 6 foot four inch tall dad of mine, proceeded to shut the door, retrace his steps, descending down into his sports lair where he watched his team clutch the title. And so it came as a shock that as most Canadians were screaming their roofs off as Jose Baustita threw his bat into infamy in Game 5 against Texas, my parents were seemingly unaware. Like nervous parents across the ages, my folks could not commit to the nail biting intensity that was October, opting to keep the telly off, and the blood pressure low. And this is this girl's attempt to not even discuss the federal election that was so prominently intwined through the Jays fever. So, yes, the span of months of blog neglect were rightly filled with newsworthy events. Nevertheless it all returns to the fact that I didn't like the book and morning cake really is best served cold.
Ernest Cline, crowned purveyor of 1980s nostalgia rose to the heights of geeky goodness with Ready Player One. An homage to gamer cultural, Ready Player One offers a unique literary opportunity to fall within the clutches of a video game without ever having to play. Addictive enough to distract I recall only the joy of pursuit unable to summon details, depth or characters. A recent review that shines a less than spectacular light upon this first novel has me questioning if Ready Player One was worthy of my passionate recommendations. Did the chase leave me so besotted that I was blind to all else? Having completed Armada months ago, irked beyond a rational state, I question less Cline's writing prowess and more our cultural obsession with nostalgia.
What is of more importance, an author who writes well, or an author who through social media networks displays a lifestyle perpetuated in his/her books that coincidentally enhances the sales? Simply stepping into the arena of Twitter it is obvious that it takes more than written talent to promote a book. My feed is inundated with Andy Weir hugging yet another scientist while Scalzi is documenting a minute by minute account of his existence, to Ernest Cline driving his Delorian across the galaxy saving old Atari video games with George R. R. Martin. While I am not against such campaigns, finding it all quite entertaining, I am beginning to suspect we, the reading public have been duped.
Armada is the story of a teenage boy who saves the world. With an innate talent for video-games, Zac Lightman spies through his school classroom window a spacecraft that improbably emerged from the very game he obsessively plays. The plot moves along at a maddeningly logical progression exhibiting little in way of surprise. Having either read or viewed this arc countless of times, relishing each new spin on the classic tale, I would have gladly enjoyed myself if I hadn't been drowned in 80s jargon. Every other sentence hallmarks the past, and while that can be highly effective in developing wit, too much becomes saccharine. Do yourself a favour, rent The Last Starfighter and enjoy the plot in it's original conception.
I awoke refreshed yet ever so slightly unhinged this cold albeit sunny morning. Equipped with a hypersensitive imagination, I avoid reading horror simply because in Canada it is next to impossible to procure the 50 shotguns needed for me to feel safe enough to fall asleep. How then did Mira's Grant's first book in her zombie-enriched Newsflesh Trilogy make it's way into my 2015 Reading Pile? Sometimes all it takes is stranger's exuberance to tip one over the edge to zombie-town.
My local SF bookstore has the quaint habit of recommending books using index cards. These little love letters are left amongst the bookshelves, swaying unsuspecting customers to expand their reading repertoire. Employee engagement is fully supported with all the clerks willing to spend a half an hour convincing you that while Feed is indeed quite gross actually is not about the zombies.
And so here I am, a zombie book reader who now keeps one eye open while washing my hair, ever alert because the undead may be lumbering up the stairs to eat my brains. To be fair, they could care less about my brains, really wanting to spread the Kellis-Amberlee virus that has reanimated their dead asses. Mira Grant, nom de plume Seanan Mcguire, is a smart cookie. She realized that to swim in zombified waters she needed to add some depth to the pre-existing mythos of the walking dead. Like John Scalzi with Lock In she looked to the science of our day to create a believable level of terror. The nuances of the virus that aggressively spread in 2014 brought into effect a new world. Feed begins in an age with zombies. Life is less care-free. A walk in the park, a picnic by the sea, even attending a concert is fraught with danger. Humanity has dwindled, hiding in upon itself, terrified to gather. living on-line, barricaded behind windowless houses aware that everyone is susceptible to reanimation. It is quite genius, inventing a virus that lays dormant in every single species that's mass index exceeds 40 pounds that will result in you and yours eventually becoming zombies.
But this is not a zombie book, it is a discussion of fear and the power it can have to solidify agendas, popularize hate and entrap our minds. Feed is a well-masked exploration of the war on terror, honing in on the power of the media and the movement of information to not only hide but reveal truth. It is quite a heady subject for a little zombie book, and even though I enjoyed it, I wish I loved it. The book is fraught with repetition that unsuccessfully grounds the reader to the horrors of an infected world, forcing the reader to skim. Trust me, I don't want to skim but if a book is bogged down with sameness, I will have to hunt for the ending from frustration not delight. I sit on the fence with Feed, wanting it to be less about sloppy blog writing (ha-ha-eek) that seemed antiquated in it's treatment of on-line news while loving the apocalyptic nightmare and the bad-ass generation who has inherited this zombie world.
By the end of September I had accomplished my reading goal of reading 45 books with the final total rounding up to be 53 for 2014. Unsure why I find book tallying so satisfying but I do it every year more as a personal censes than a motivational tool. Reviewing my list, I see that while this was the year of the mystery novel, it was more so the year of reserved admiration. Even though I thoroughly enjoyed myself, there wasn't one book that completely freaked me out like The Rook or Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore. Sure, there was the fourth in the Expanse Series, Cibola Burns, which I have to reiterate is the best of the series, the very best and if you have not picked up Leviathan Wakes yet, you clearly are not the space opera junky you claim to be.
Thankfully, at the very end of this year, gifted to me on my birthday I received the hard copy edition of John Scalzi's novel, Lock In; suddenly, I find myself having something new to rave on (bully may be more accurate) about at social gatherings this holiday season. I just love to demand people to read books, it is rather a slight problem and it may be prudent that I review my current persuasive technique. I am beginning to doubt the effectiveness of the phrase "What do you mean you haven't read Dune. You are dead to me." People seem less likely to then listen for the next little diddy in which I bubble over with enthusiasm for my newest, funnest little book addiction, clearly expecting all around me to leave that instant for a bookstore or library to procure the very novel I am frothing at the mouth over. I really am not invited to a lot of parties.
The science fiction of Lock In is near future stuff, stuff that is just a little too close to present day for my taste, making it more a prediction of coming events than a humble sci-fi story. Humanity is recovering from a devastatingly incurable disease that at its extreme locks a person's mind into their inanimate body. In response to Haden's syndrome, the U.S has spent 3 trillion dollars to first find a cure and when it appears to be incurable, free those trapped inside themselves. Technology has advanced to such a state that those with Haden's syndrome have neural networks surgically inserted into their brains allowing Haden's to participate three ways in society: through The Agora, an on-line city, through the use of robots (threeps), or by "riding" trained professionals who have the capacity to download Haden's, allowing them to control their bodies. I know!
This book has a lot going for it, a plague, science, high-level politics and murder. Yes, in the end it happens to be a mystery novel! Some found Lock In difficult to read, (not sure how, as I basically found it to be crack) and recommend the back-story novella that Scalzi posted on Tor.com. Being a complete moron, I had no idea about this little gem until I started researching for this post (i know, I research!). In my humble opinion, you don't need to read it first as I like a book to reveal itself slowly rather than slapping the reader in the face with too much information.
Before I sign off for 2014 let me add just one more thing, would you just read The Expanse series already.
Thanks John Scalzi for your essay "The 10 SF/F Works that Meant the Most to Me"; my feelings of dread and despair are dissipating!
In the event that you were unable to unlock the mystery to my gaps on my blog, I have been stuck in the mire of a reading slump (Can you read the horror in those words I just typed? Because I tried to type in a horrific manner to allude to it, and then realized that no one can actually see my facial expressions and then thought, might as well just keep on with one long bracketed clause to over explain my intent because a bookless me equates a time on my hands me, #let'spiddleawaythehours).
Writers love to go on about "the block" while I am sure it is face rip-off frustrating, I propose the reader without a book, is even more aggravating and most definitely more annoying, especially to those dear ones living with us bookaholic types. NOTHING TO READ, think on that because obviously I have in fact numerous books to read, even have a library down the street and the entire web at my disposal but for one month and two days, I have not had a book, not a short story, not a hint of a plot that has peaked my interest. It has been so bad I have actually thought about leaving SF and hanging out with my old buddy, the Mystery Novel. Was that a collective gasp? For goodness sake people, I started watching TV with my husband again...(side note, this may have nothing or everything to do with Survivor being back on).
And so it is with thanks to John (we are in no way on a first name basis but what the hey...)for listing his personal top 10 which in tern has given me a purpose in life again. To be fair, I posted a similarly themed list way back, so avoiding the awkwardness of it all, (way to go John) let me release to you my list of 4 books that I highly recommend but have not a speck of desire to read again, which in no way takes away from how awesome these books really are.
1. Blindness, Jose Saramago - Sweet blessed scary as shit, wish I could erase scenes from
.jpg)
my brain, Blindness. A masterful piece of literature written originally in Portuguese, with kudos out to not only the author but the translator who so successfully gave this gift of a novel to the English reading world, Blindness is the tale of humanities quick descent into anarchy. A highly contagious, air-borne (no one really knows) infection causes an epidemic of white blindness. Unable to see, unable to find their way home, or at home, unable to care for their personal needs the city falls into the blackness of hell on Earth. Funny how hell always ends up being created by mankind. If only we could be nice to one another and it is with this little seed that this dark story is brought back into the light. Most probably the best written and controlled little masterpiece in the past 30 years, Blindness threw me so completely into it's clutches that I seem to be haunted by it to this day. I don't need to revisit it, I am still gripped by Saramago's brilliance.
.jpg)
2. Lilith's Brood, Octavia Butler- Anyone with a penchant for SF must read Octavia or they are simply not SF readers. The master of the post-apocalyptic, American dream she is able to weave up such a despairing picture of America while still holding true to it's core belief in freedom and self preservation that a reader is exhausted at the end. Best known for her Parable series (depressing as shit but amazing all at the same time), it is her alien series, Lilith's Brood that truly blew me away. To this date, I have yet to pick up a book that so completely allows me to explore and love an alien race. And when you truly fall for an alien as I did hers, what is left for me to explore? As with Blindness, Lilith's Brood took a hold of me resulting in me not needing to dive back in because I am still caught in its prose.
.jpg)
3. Ender's Game, Orson Scott Card - Shocking is a mild adjective considering the extensive hype that continues to swirl around this novel. Considered by many the best SF book ever written, which I find a bit of a stretch, and would more accurately describe Ender's Game as the most successful SF book that is so very SF but so very digestible to the general public. Just in case you have been trekking along the Appalachian Trail, they are making a movie of it. Glee...not really, I have a general distrust of any movie director believing they can do justice to a dearly loved book. Don't misjudge me, I dearly love this book. I tore through it's pages like the Tasmanian Devil has want to do in the Bugs Bunny Cartoons. It is exciting, it is thrilling, it is thought-provoking but the best, ever written not so much. What we have here is the perfect plot. Most likely because of its plot strength, once having arrived at the denouement there was nothing left for me to re-investigate.
4. Doomsday, Connie Willis - As a huge fan of Connie's it pains me to admit that her Hugo Award winner Doomsday is not one that I return to. Unlike Black Out/ All Clear that continues to knock my socks off even after my third read through, Doomsday sits quietly on my bookshelf. When it comes to historical fiction/alternative universe plots and house buying, it is all about location, location, location. There is history that grabs me more than others and the fourteen century, Black Plague days of merry-old England, go figure, is not high on my 'to visit' list. That being said, smash me down into the muck of WWI or the bombings of WWII and I am all yours baby, all yours. I have no idea what that reveals about me and frankly not keen to find out. All said, Doomsday is a stellar novel, showcasing Willis's time traveling historians who through the means of amazing tech go back in time to discover the world as it truly (?!) was.
A while back I expounded on my love for John Scalzi. As is the case with almost all writers with a growing body of work there is going to be a book or two that lacks appeal. So be the case for Red Shirts.
.jpeg)
Trekkies or should I say Trekkers (
still unclear? read this and become more so) are familiar with the term "Red Shirts". Please be advised that this post contains reference to Star Trek. While I cannot bend you to my way of thinking I strongly recommend you embrace your inner fan. The term red shirts refers to the crew of the Starship Enterprise on the television series Star Trek who would tragically die on away missions. In practically every episode of the original and the newer versions (The Next Generation, Voyager, Deep Space Nine) the lead cast members lives would be put into jeopardy (this is called drama). Rather than killing Spock or Kirk and thus having to go out and cast a new lead to the show Roddenberry would kill one of the Enterprise's crew. As it so happened those crew members seemed to wear red shirts.
I feel like we should all do a shot right about now....or have a beer. You do click on the links right?
Using the premise of the red shirts,Scalzi superimposes it into a " real life" spaceship that so happens to be connected in a "twilight zone" parallel universe kind of way. A universe that results in the lives of this ship's fate being impacted by a TV show's weekly scripts that are consequently being aired in the U.S.A during the 1990's. What?...come again. Let's try this again... There is a spaceship that exists in the future whose crew are killed off during away missions because the ship is linked to a 1990's science fiction television show that so happens to resemble Star Trek. What ever is written for the script ends up occurring in real life to the crew of this ship. Come again?....Okay, so there is.... you know never mind.
Now to be fair, there is a very sound idea here. One that would have been great if a little more effort on the part of the writer and a little more editorial review had been invested. This book has been rushed. Frankly, I am amazed that in its current state it was even sent for publication and then so widely supported by the publishing house with a full book tour put behind it. Either Scalzi was pushed to produce a new book or has gotten too big for his own good. In any event, I did not like this book. I did not. The rambling end to the book is so annoying that I just wanted to read the darn thing to be done with it and move onto something with thought behind it.
I'm in need of good laugh. Not that life is really that dire but my current book is heavy on the sexy times. There is only so much panting and heaving a Dune Girl can take. Okay, I can take a lot, but my mother reads this blog and I would like to exhibit a little decorum. Having already referenced one of the more outrageous SF romps, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy I am pressed to come up with more examples. Having spent a couple hours on-line looking up other comedic SF I realize that I have some reading homework to do. Looks like my summer is going to be hilarious. That being said, I do have one author who tickles my funny bone.
John Scalzi
Over the past couple of years I have been reading my way through Scalzi's library. I have been extremely entertained by his ability to create exceptionally pleasing characters with believable plots. Well, somewhat believable plots, The Android's Dream is ridiculously redonk. I laughed my ass off reading this political inspired satire. I wish I could write like this guy. The following blurb was cut from Scalzi's own blog about The Android's Dream.
I think I love him.
"10 Words or Less: Man solves diplomatic crisis through action scenes and snappy dialogue.
Cover Blurbage: A human diplomat kills his alien counterpart. Earth is on the verge of war with a vastly superior alien race. A lone man races against time and a host of enemies to find the one object that can save our planet and our people from alien enslavement....
A sheep.
That's right, a sheep. And if you think that's the most surprising thing about this book, wait until you read Chapter One. Welcome to The Android's Dream."
Another fun Scalzi novel is Agent to the Stars. If you are one to check out the links in these post you just discovered that the entire novel is available online and yours truly just made it available to you. Now that I have lost most of my audience to that link I might as well just ramble on about my love for Scalzi. Below is some of his recent tweets from his Whatever blog. Can I just add that his blog has been around since 1998, making it a granddaddy on the web and that it is awesome. I wish in 1998 I had committed myself to blogging rather than teaching ESL and getting drunk in Japan(hi-five!). How cool would it be now if I had 14 years of catalogued reviews to my name. Anyway, here is an example of John's tweets. Did I mention that I think I love him?
WHATWITTERS
Armada is the story of a teenage boy who saves the world. With an innate talent for video-games, Zac Lightman spies through his school classroom window a spacecraft that improbably emerged from the very game he obsessively plays. The plot moves along at a maddeningly logical progression exhibiting little in way of surprise. Having either read or viewed this arc countless of times, relishing each new spin on the classic tale, I would have gladly enjoyed myself if I hadn't been drowned in 80s jargon. Every other sentence hallmarks the past, and while that can be highly effective in developing wit, too much becomes saccharine. Do yourself a favour, rent The Last Starfighter and enjoy the plot in it's original conception.
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpeg)
