Thursday 31 August 2017
Friday 25 August 2017
Tuesday 15 August 2017
The Girl with all the Gifts, (2014), by M R Carey.
So I picked up (bought, bought not picked up, that doesn't sound right) Mr MR Careys "The Girl with all the Gifts" from Whitcoulls, published by Orbit. One of its reviewers, Jenny Colgan is quoted as "Kazuo Ishiguro meets The Walking Dead". Which to me is an interesting quote, I have questions as to why she would say that. Joss Whedon is quoted as saying "as fresh as it is terrifying", which could be sarcasm, but probably isn't, but I get why he would be a person to quote with a book such as this.
According to a transcripted interview, at the back of the book, it's based on a short story that was collected in Paula Gurans Years Best Dark Fantasy & Horror Anthology (2013), Iphigenia in Aulis that had Melanie (one of the protagonists obsessed with the Illiad. There are book group questions at the back, including one which goes , "compared to Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro how far does each book characterize children as grotesque and to be feared?". So that goes some way towards my question about that particular quote. Suspiciously so. Or not.
I have to say how slick the marketing and packaging of the book is. From the short story, Mr MR Carey wrote a screen play and a novel at the same time. The cover of the book and the posters to the movie echo each other and the transcripted interview, book group questions both address that process and serve to frame the book in an intellectual manner. I am sure my thought processes are going in the direction the marketers of the book intended.
The book reads like a movie, written in a passive third person perspective and until page 29 the voice is all about Melanie, the protagonist. I've seen the movies version of Melanie, from shorts played by Sennia Nanua. The books version is a "very fair" girl with blond hair and "a good girl smarminess" (page 80 : 2014) that probably channels real life cynicism. I challenge you to see the movie short and then hold onto the books version of Melanie as you read it. I gave up, but I acknowledge there could be difference. The books ending is interesting, there is enough science in the book, in the same way that there is enough science in Brahm Stokers Dracula, to legitimize the fictional narrative and it echos real life concerns. Which to be clear, was good. In my opinion, which is just another voice in the wind, a lot of progress is kind of muddling along particular paradigms and if Hegel came up with dialectical materialism it's because societies tend to oscillate from one issue to another through the generations as circumstances alter. I'm not convinced that the books ending is a happy one but it is an ending and I guess that's the point.
The book was easy to read, it took me less that two days to complete but then again I'm not watching TV and I found it entertaining and liked what it did.
According to a transcripted interview, at the back of the book, it's based on a short story that was collected in Paula Gurans Years Best Dark Fantasy & Horror Anthology (2013), Iphigenia in Aulis that had Melanie (one of the protagonists obsessed with the Illiad. There are book group questions at the back, including one which goes , "compared to Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro how far does each book characterize children as grotesque and to be feared?". So that goes some way towards my question about that particular quote. Suspiciously so. Or not.
I have to say how slick the marketing and packaging of the book is. From the short story, Mr MR Carey wrote a screen play and a novel at the same time. The cover of the book and the posters to the movie echo each other and the transcripted interview, book group questions both address that process and serve to frame the book in an intellectual manner. I am sure my thought processes are going in the direction the marketers of the book intended.
The book reads like a movie, written in a passive third person perspective and until page 29 the voice is all about Melanie, the protagonist. I've seen the movies version of Melanie, from shorts played by Sennia Nanua. The books version is a "very fair" girl with blond hair and "a good girl smarminess" (page 80 : 2014) that probably channels real life cynicism. I challenge you to see the movie short and then hold onto the books version of Melanie as you read it. I gave up, but I acknowledge there could be difference. The books ending is interesting, there is enough science in the book, in the same way that there is enough science in Brahm Stokers Dracula, to legitimize the fictional narrative and it echos real life concerns. Which to be clear, was good. In my opinion, which is just another voice in the wind, a lot of progress is kind of muddling along particular paradigms and if Hegel came up with dialectical materialism it's because societies tend to oscillate from one issue to another through the generations as circumstances alter. I'm not convinced that the books ending is a happy one but it is an ending and I guess that's the point.
The book was easy to read, it took me less that two days to complete but then again I'm not watching TV and I found it entertaining and liked what it did.
Thursday 10 August 2017
Sextant : A Voyage Guided by the Stars and the Men who Mapped the Worlds Oceans. By David Barrie
In this book, published by William Collins (2015), David Barrie describes a compelling history of the development and use of navigational techniques in what he describes as the "heroic age of scientific hydrography" tied around a narrative of his transatlantic crossing from Halifax, Novia Scotia to Falmouth, England during 1973 in a 35 foot sloop called the Saecwen. This voyage included three other crew members, including the ensign Colin McMullen, during which the author learned navigational techniques using a sextant and chronometer.
His take on the history of the sextant, its invention by John Harrison (1731), is quite fascinating and he devotes a chapter to its development from Seaman's Quadrants, Cross Staffs and Back Staffs and explains its theory in a post Copernican world view. His narrative history is focused on the voyages of select navigators, going to some effort to describe their personalities and journal anecdotes of his subject, perhaps somewhat romantically. He covers William Bligh (1789), the explorer James Cook (1768), the amusing Bouganville (1766), the unfortunate La Perouse (1785), the under appreciated George Vancouver (1790), Flinders and his cat "Trim" (1796) and the voyages of the Beagle under Stokes (1826) and under Fitzroy (1827). Fitzroy who had quite a practical scientific inclination invited the services of a young naturalist called Charles Darwin (page 225) and achieved a number of social and hydrological accomplishments, including Governorship of New Zealand in 1844.
Barrie ends with two chapters on the experience of Frank Worsely (1916), a merchant seaman from New Zealand, under Sir Ernest Shackleton in an attempt to cross the Antartic continent and their subsequent ordeal of survival. Barrie begins (chapter 4) and ends ( Chapters 15 & 16) his historical narrative with feats of endurance where survivors are faced with navigating though rough open seas in long boats with the threat of eminent danger, that of William Bligh (1789) and Sir Ernest Shackelton (1916). I believe that these narratives serve to illustrate the points he makes on the last pages of his book, that celestial navigation is becoming a necessary lost art. Certainly the average modern human doesn't look up at the night sky with the same comprehension as their ancestors, despite our post Copernican world view.
Inside the book are good illustrations of select navigators, the technologies they used and quite a number of maps, including the Straits of Magellan (Page 250), which Barrie goes to some length to illustrate why they are navigational hazards. It inspires me with a tendency towards looking at the night sky, and to stay away from large bodies of water.
His take on the history of the sextant, its invention by John Harrison (1731), is quite fascinating and he devotes a chapter to its development from Seaman's Quadrants, Cross Staffs and Back Staffs and explains its theory in a post Copernican world view. His narrative history is focused on the voyages of select navigators, going to some effort to describe their personalities and journal anecdotes of his subject, perhaps somewhat romantically. He covers William Bligh (1789), the explorer James Cook (1768), the amusing Bouganville (1766), the unfortunate La Perouse (1785), the under appreciated George Vancouver (1790), Flinders and his cat "Trim" (1796) and the voyages of the Beagle under Stokes (1826) and under Fitzroy (1827). Fitzroy who had quite a practical scientific inclination invited the services of a young naturalist called Charles Darwin (page 225) and achieved a number of social and hydrological accomplishments, including Governorship of New Zealand in 1844.
Barrie ends with two chapters on the experience of Frank Worsely (1916), a merchant seaman from New Zealand, under Sir Ernest Shackleton in an attempt to cross the Antartic continent and their subsequent ordeal of survival. Barrie begins (chapter 4) and ends ( Chapters 15 & 16) his historical narrative with feats of endurance where survivors are faced with navigating though rough open seas in long boats with the threat of eminent danger, that of William Bligh (1789) and Sir Ernest Shackelton (1916). I believe that these narratives serve to illustrate the points he makes on the last pages of his book, that celestial navigation is becoming a necessary lost art. Certainly the average modern human doesn't look up at the night sky with the same comprehension as their ancestors, despite our post Copernican world view.
Inside the book are good illustrations of select navigators, the technologies they used and quite a number of maps, including the Straits of Magellan (Page 250), which Barrie goes to some length to illustrate why they are navigational hazards. It inspires me with a tendency towards looking at the night sky, and to stay away from large bodies of water.
Friday 4 August 2017
Rotherweird by Andrew Caldecott (2017)
"Rotherwierd" is published by Jo Fletcher books (2017), from Great Britain. I picked it up primarily due to the artwork and lettering on the cover, which evoked "Bad Jelly the Witch" to me, a childhood book by Spike Milligan that scared me as a child. Childhood me was quite the wimp apparently. The cover and the artwork inside were enough for me to decide to read it, which suggests I am susceptible to advertising of this nature. The cover artwork is quaint and the artwork inside the book, by Sasha Laika is abstract to figurative.
Anywho, the title of the book is the name of the town that is the setting of the book, ostensibly a town that during the Elizabethean period achieved its independence from external government on the condition that its citizenry do not examine or record their history, again for reasons. These reasons are a source of mystery throughout the story and contribute to the quaint English absurdity of the town and its citizens. It's the kind of absurdity that the English like to package and sell to tourists and tell stories to and about themselves about how charming they are, the mad dogs and Englishmen bit. Spike Milligan did this well, but the writing style is certainly not Spike Milligan and though the book is full of the dialogue of its citizens the absurdity is perhaps more part of an overall web, which is one of the points of the book. But it is sweet as books go.
The town and its citizenry are introduced by the journey of two groups of strangers to the town, a family of malevolent intent and a rather gormless history teacher down on his luck. Through them the reader transitions from a recognizable modern setting to the isolated, hard to find mysterious town of Rotherwierd with its absurd laws outlawing the study of history and its unusually gifted citizens and institutions who tend towards an empirical positivist outlook.
It is in many ways a detective novel, as most of the major characters are all doing kinds of detecting of the history, mysteries and prominent sites and artifacts of the town and it features puzzels and just enough latin for you to grab that dictionary you never use. I mean, its not Suduko, thank god, but it does feature moments or set pieces where you recognize the intent of the author and convergence of the various stories. It is sweet and whimsical.
Apparently there is a second book in the works, "WYNTETIDE" (2018) as advertised on page 453 and the author does go to some trouble to explain his experience of writing this book.
Anywho, the title of the book is the name of the town that is the setting of the book, ostensibly a town that during the Elizabethean period achieved its independence from external government on the condition that its citizenry do not examine or record their history, again for reasons. These reasons are a source of mystery throughout the story and contribute to the quaint English absurdity of the town and its citizens. It's the kind of absurdity that the English like to package and sell to tourists and tell stories to and about themselves about how charming they are, the mad dogs and Englishmen bit. Spike Milligan did this well, but the writing style is certainly not Spike Milligan and though the book is full of the dialogue of its citizens the absurdity is perhaps more part of an overall web, which is one of the points of the book. But it is sweet as books go.
The town and its citizenry are introduced by the journey of two groups of strangers to the town, a family of malevolent intent and a rather gormless history teacher down on his luck. Through them the reader transitions from a recognizable modern setting to the isolated, hard to find mysterious town of Rotherwierd with its absurd laws outlawing the study of history and its unusually gifted citizens and institutions who tend towards an empirical positivist outlook.
It is in many ways a detective novel, as most of the major characters are all doing kinds of detecting of the history, mysteries and prominent sites and artifacts of the town and it features puzzels and just enough latin for you to grab that dictionary you never use. I mean, its not Suduko, thank god, but it does feature moments or set pieces where you recognize the intent of the author and convergence of the various stories. It is sweet and whimsical.
Apparently there is a second book in the works, "WYNTETIDE" (2018) as advertised on page 453 and the author does go to some trouble to explain his experience of writing this book.
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