Stephen Gilberg (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deckardcanine) wrote2008-02-09 10:58 pm
deckardcanine) wrote2008-02-09 10:58 pm
(no subject)
Reflecting on my book reviews here on LJ, I’ve come to realize that they’re almost all more negative than positive. The only exception that comes to mind is Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. By now, some of you must be wondering why I read as much as I do, especially in sci-fi.
A key reason it took me a while to notice this is that I have been enjoying other books -- just not reviewing them here. Many of these are deeply religious in nature, so I reserve them for a Christian community. Others I simply don’t feel like reviewing -- don’t even think to, really. They may be kid-oriented and therefore kind of embarrassing, or they may be so culturally ingrained that one more review seems pointless.
But these last two reasons aren’t very good. I’m generally open in my enjoyment of entertainment that was made with children in mind, and the only movie I’ve declined to review on the Grown Up Movie Forum due to popularity is Casablanca. It’s time I said a few words on two books that I’ve read semi-recently and never mentioned.
It is with some measure of shame that I confess that I had never read through anything by Terry Pratchett until last year. In sixth grade, a friend of mine showed me the prologue of Truckers, the first book of the Bromeliad trilogy, but its focus on a theory of shorter-lived creatures living faster didn’t interest me enough to get my own copy. Only after a few years of noticing Pratchett’s popularity online did I put him on my wish list, not expecting this book in particular.
Those of you who have read it may be surprised at how much I liked it. After all, it features a religion with a vague resemblance to mine (e.g., an Archbishop atop a male hierarchy), and the heroes have reason to be terrified of foxes and other animals I like. But the latter detail is just a detail, and I didn’t feel as tho Pratchett set out specifically to ridicule religion. If he did, it was a poor argument by analogy.
Rather, the point was to address the question, “What if a group of tiny people -- let’s call them nomes, because I hate the G -- set up residence in a store and their descendants forgot their origin? What would their culture look like?” Not to mention, “What if they were met by others of their species from the outside world?” The clash could hardly be more severe. The field nomes, who are central to the story, have known little more than desperation. The store nomes have largely regarded the outside as a myth, if not blasphemy. But their relatively comfy lives get shaken at the sight of signs (literal ones) of an imminent end.
Unlike the quaint world of The Borrowers, this well-paced, well-narrated, well-dialogued book pretty much had me riveted on every page. If Pratchett can amuse me so much with elementary-level material, I surely want to check out some of his more popular writings.
Richard Adams’s Watership Down seemed like a requisite for anyone with as much contact with furry culture as I have. I’d seen the animated movie of it, but in kindergarten -- much too early for appreciation or adequate comprehension. Perhaps the biggest factor in me deciding to read it was my enjoyment of Tailchaser’s Song, Tad Williams’s award-winning first book, which frequently gets compared to it.
It may be just as well that I waited until adulthood to check it out, given how dire some of the lapine travail is. Even business as usual for rabbitkind hardly sounds enviable -- and once again, foxes play a big part in their everyday desperation -- but it gets far worse.
Is it cute? Well, sometimes. I do like the simplicity of the rabbits’ minds, which in some ways outstrips the simplicity of Pratchett’s field nomes’ minds. All in all, the animals’ culture is pretty credible, even in unusual warrens.
Two factors are not as easy to accept: Fiver and General Woundwort. My mom disliked Fiver’s uncouth hubris resulting from his prescience, and I could see why. He’s like a lagomorphic Charles Wallace from A Wrinkle in Time, only more jittery. The General… well, I have yet to hear of a bunny quite so tough in RL.
But these factors are hardly a drag on the gestalt. It’s the kind of story that really tempts one to imitation. Hmm, maybe next NaNoWriMo…
A key reason it took me a while to notice this is that I have been enjoying other books -- just not reviewing them here. Many of these are deeply religious in nature, so I reserve them for a Christian community. Others I simply don’t feel like reviewing -- don’t even think to, really. They may be kid-oriented and therefore kind of embarrassing, or they may be so culturally ingrained that one more review seems pointless.
But these last two reasons aren’t very good. I’m generally open in my enjoyment of entertainment that was made with children in mind, and the only movie I’ve declined to review on the Grown Up Movie Forum due to popularity is Casablanca. It’s time I said a few words on two books that I’ve read semi-recently and never mentioned.
It is with some measure of shame that I confess that I had never read through anything by Terry Pratchett until last year. In sixth grade, a friend of mine showed me the prologue of Truckers, the first book of the Bromeliad trilogy, but its focus on a theory of shorter-lived creatures living faster didn’t interest me enough to get my own copy. Only after a few years of noticing Pratchett’s popularity online did I put him on my wish list, not expecting this book in particular.
Those of you who have read it may be surprised at how much I liked it. After all, it features a religion with a vague resemblance to mine (e.g., an Archbishop atop a male hierarchy), and the heroes have reason to be terrified of foxes and other animals I like. But the latter detail is just a detail, and I didn’t feel as tho Pratchett set out specifically to ridicule religion. If he did, it was a poor argument by analogy.
Rather, the point was to address the question, “What if a group of tiny people -- let’s call them nomes, because I hate the G -- set up residence in a store and their descendants forgot their origin? What would their culture look like?” Not to mention, “What if they were met by others of their species from the outside world?” The clash could hardly be more severe. The field nomes, who are central to the story, have known little more than desperation. The store nomes have largely regarded the outside as a myth, if not blasphemy. But their relatively comfy lives get shaken at the sight of signs (literal ones) of an imminent end.
Unlike the quaint world of The Borrowers, this well-paced, well-narrated, well-dialogued book pretty much had me riveted on every page. If Pratchett can amuse me so much with elementary-level material, I surely want to check out some of his more popular writings.
Richard Adams’s Watership Down seemed like a requisite for anyone with as much contact with furry culture as I have. I’d seen the animated movie of it, but in kindergarten -- much too early for appreciation or adequate comprehension. Perhaps the biggest factor in me deciding to read it was my enjoyment of Tailchaser’s Song, Tad Williams’s award-winning first book, which frequently gets compared to it.
It may be just as well that I waited until adulthood to check it out, given how dire some of the lapine travail is. Even business as usual for rabbitkind hardly sounds enviable -- and once again, foxes play a big part in their everyday desperation -- but it gets far worse.
Is it cute? Well, sometimes. I do like the simplicity of the rabbits’ minds, which in some ways outstrips the simplicity of Pratchett’s field nomes’ minds. All in all, the animals’ culture is pretty credible, even in unusual warrens.
Two factors are not as easy to accept: Fiver and General Woundwort. My mom disliked Fiver’s uncouth hubris resulting from his prescience, and I could see why. He’s like a lagomorphic Charles Wallace from A Wrinkle in Time, only more jittery. The General… well, I have yet to hear of a bunny quite so tough in RL.
But these factors are hardly a drag on the gestalt. It’s the kind of story that really tempts one to imitation. Hmm, maybe next NaNoWriMo…