Friday, 28 August 2015 05:22 pm
Book Review: Haroun and the Sea of Stories
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deckardcanineI'd heard a middle portion of Salman Rushdie's kid book read aloud at a weekly story session in college (yes, we nourished our inner children together). More than a decade later, I could remember a few funny moments, but they turned out to be surprisingly far apart, so I must have spaced out. That's strange, since the story isn't dull the rest of the time.
Some of you may recall that I reviewed the much later sequel, Luka and the Fire of Life, dedicated to the younger Rushdie son, whose brother had inspired the character of Haroun. I'd enjoyed that book, but Rushdie was a tad out of his element in trying to incorporate video game aspects. HatSoS is a more traditional rabbit-hole fantasy (not sure of a traditional term for it), and that's fine by me.
As in Luka's adventure, dad Rashid, famed storyteller, finds himself at a surreal loss for the gift of gab. He's not dying this time, but it jeopardizes his career. That's not really the start of the conflict; familial strife ensues from disagreement on the value of fiction. Then again, looking at it another way, the first sign of trouble comes in the first sentence, which describes their hometown as too sad to remember its name.
Haroun gets compelling evidence of a supernatural cause when he catches a genie trying to uninstall an invisible spigot connecting to the Sea of Stories. Suddenly, Haroun no longer feels annoyed at Rashid for speaking in metaphors all the time: They're not mere metaphors after all. Seeking to appeal for his dad to get the gift back, he travels to a land whose people (using the term broadly) obsess over stories in general. The problem extends far beyond Rashid: A powerful villain who craves silence and darkness has been poisoning the sea, creating lousy stories. Haroun may not bring any unique strengths to the table, but the heroes need all the help they can get.
Haroun's age is not stated. By my reckoning, Zafir Rushdie was about 11 when the book came out 25 years ago. Come to think of it, that works well with Haroun's 11-minute attention span. In any case, he's old enough to have a crush on a girl but young enough that nobody expects much responsibility from him...until he volunteers for a mission. Partly to impress said girl.
Rashid has a much bigger role here than in the sequel. Unlike in most fantasies of this ilk, the father also makes a hero's journey, sometimes crossing paths with his son. And even when he can't spin yarns (or rather relay them from the sea), he can offer verbal skills to other ends.
Several characters in the story realm and the mundane realm parallel each other, possibly under the influence of The Wizard of Oz. My favorite counterparts are an avid bus driver and a robotic giant hoopoe, both dubbed Butt. That's actually a reference to their emphasis on the conjunction, but but but it's hard to imagine a young reader not snickering for another reason.
Prince Bolo forms a mockery of classical heroes, and his beloved Batcheat forms a mockery of damsels in distress. Both care little about anything but each other, the former at least is overly impulsive, and both see virtues in each other that nobody else sees. They'd have you think HatSoS was their story. Thankfully, this kingdom doesn't delegate much to royal brats.
As a linguist, I appreciate the Plentimaw Fish. Their appearance sounds freaky if not horrifying, but they do little more than speak in rhyme and rhythm. Somehow one always knows immediately how to finish another's verse.
As an artist, I appreciate Mali the floating gardener, who's more like an anthropomorphic garden in himself. He may have the most unique abilities of the bunch.
BTW, two pages near the back of the book explain the origins of the character and place names. Most are Hindustani words pertaining to speech. I worry a little that the names, not all of which have obvious pronunciations, might slow the target audience down. That said, "Alifbay" wasn't hard to guess as "alphabet."
Classic? Probably. I don't put it on par with The Phantom Tollbooth, but it has some dynamics reminiscent thereof. If you can find it at the library, you should be able to breeze through it before the due date.
With that in mind, I decided to move on to the longest book on my shelf: The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss. Exactly 1,000 pages from start to finish, with a pretty small typeface.
Some of you may recall that I reviewed the much later sequel, Luka and the Fire of Life, dedicated to the younger Rushdie son, whose brother had inspired the character of Haroun. I'd enjoyed that book, but Rushdie was a tad out of his element in trying to incorporate video game aspects. HatSoS is a more traditional rabbit-hole fantasy (not sure of a traditional term for it), and that's fine by me.
As in Luka's adventure, dad Rashid, famed storyteller, finds himself at a surreal loss for the gift of gab. He's not dying this time, but it jeopardizes his career. That's not really the start of the conflict; familial strife ensues from disagreement on the value of fiction. Then again, looking at it another way, the first sign of trouble comes in the first sentence, which describes their hometown as too sad to remember its name.
Haroun gets compelling evidence of a supernatural cause when he catches a genie trying to uninstall an invisible spigot connecting to the Sea of Stories. Suddenly, Haroun no longer feels annoyed at Rashid for speaking in metaphors all the time: They're not mere metaphors after all. Seeking to appeal for his dad to get the gift back, he travels to a land whose people (using the term broadly) obsess over stories in general. The problem extends far beyond Rashid: A powerful villain who craves silence and darkness has been poisoning the sea, creating lousy stories. Haroun may not bring any unique strengths to the table, but the heroes need all the help they can get.
Haroun's age is not stated. By my reckoning, Zafir Rushdie was about 11 when the book came out 25 years ago. Come to think of it, that works well with Haroun's 11-minute attention span. In any case, he's old enough to have a crush on a girl but young enough that nobody expects much responsibility from him...until he volunteers for a mission. Partly to impress said girl.
Rashid has a much bigger role here than in the sequel. Unlike in most fantasies of this ilk, the father also makes a hero's journey, sometimes crossing paths with his son. And even when he can't spin yarns (or rather relay them from the sea), he can offer verbal skills to other ends.
Several characters in the story realm and the mundane realm parallel each other, possibly under the influence of The Wizard of Oz. My favorite counterparts are an avid bus driver and a robotic giant hoopoe, both dubbed Butt. That's actually a reference to their emphasis on the conjunction, but but but it's hard to imagine a young reader not snickering for another reason.
Prince Bolo forms a mockery of classical heroes, and his beloved Batcheat forms a mockery of damsels in distress. Both care little about anything but each other, the former at least is overly impulsive, and both see virtues in each other that nobody else sees. They'd have you think HatSoS was their story. Thankfully, this kingdom doesn't delegate much to royal brats.
As a linguist, I appreciate the Plentimaw Fish. Their appearance sounds freaky if not horrifying, but they do little more than speak in rhyme and rhythm. Somehow one always knows immediately how to finish another's verse.
As an artist, I appreciate Mali the floating gardener, who's more like an anthropomorphic garden in himself. He may have the most unique abilities of the bunch.
BTW, two pages near the back of the book explain the origins of the character and place names. Most are Hindustani words pertaining to speech. I worry a little that the names, not all of which have obvious pronunciations, might slow the target audience down. That said, "Alifbay" wasn't hard to guess as "alphabet."
Classic? Probably. I don't put it on par with The Phantom Tollbooth, but it has some dynamics reminiscent thereof. If you can find it at the library, you should be able to breeze through it before the due date.
With that in mind, I decided to move on to the longest book on my shelf: The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss. Exactly 1,000 pages from start to finish, with a pretty small typeface.