Erin Morgenstern - The Starless Sea

Not many would be able to compete with Erin Morgenstern when it comes to building fantastical descriptive alternative worlds, which successfully transports the reader into a land of wonder and amazement and disbelief. But, with The Starless Sea, Morgenstern’s focus on creating the world of the starless sea is at the expense of the story. Narratives emerge only to taper off, storylines come up to never go anywhere, and while the reader’s lost in the mystical magical maze, there doesn’t seem to be a plan other than to just wander the maze, which would be great if this were a choose-your-own-adventure book.

The premise is intriguing. A grad student, Zachary Ezra Rawlins, picks up a book in the library that appears to have a story about him, from his childhood, when he stumbled upon a painted door that he didn’t open: the door to the Starless Sea. The Starless Sea is a magical underground place where stories in many shapes and forms live. Yes, this is a story about stories, with no central plot, but just meandering seemingly disconnected (but not) anecdotes that don’t complete the jigsaw puzzle.

Zachary embarks on a quest to figure out how his story ended up in a book, and ends up in the harbour at the shore at the Starless Sea, whose raison d'être seems to be a place for stories to live. There are motifs (a bee, a key, a sword) and more motifs (a feather, a heart, a crown), characters from different centuries, anthropomorphic representations of fate and time, and a “magical” kitchen that can serve up whatever one wants.

It’s a wild ride but with no destination.

While the central plot line is Zachary’s quest, interspersed between each chapter is an unrelated story. Some of them reference previous anecdotes or characters, some of them don’t. It’s up to the reader to figure it out. But, as soon as the reader—or, at least, I—got invested in one story, it resets. It’s not often you find a book with so much potential, with so much beauty, be so frustrating. It doesn’t help that Zachary’s an insipid character, with no great driving force.

Parts of it are imaginative and parts of it are not. When Morgenstern gets inspiration from other stories—say Alice in Wonderland—she doesn’t tiptoe around it. She just uses it as a simile, and moves on. Another main character is called Dorian, after, you guessed it: Oscar Wilde’s notorious protagonist. But, she relies on these winks to past literature to do the heavy lifting instead of moving the story forward herself. A metaphor could be a metaphor, or it could be literal. What seems to be literal could be a metaphor, or it could just be literal. At one point, a character says he’s not sure if he’s following the metaphors anymore. I’m not entirely sure anyone is.

I’m reading Philip Pullman’s book of essays at the moment (Daemon Voices). One of the essays, The Path Through The Wood: How Stories Work, sums up the problem with this book quite nicely, with a metaphor that doesn’t require heavy lifting.

So here we have two ideas: the wood and the path. The wood, or the forest if you like, is a wild space. It’s an unstructured space. It’s a space of possibilities. It’s a space where anything can happen (and it frequently does, in the words of the song from that great movie Hellzapoppin). There are monsters in the wood. There are life forms unlike any others. There are quarks and neutrinos and virtual particles; it’s full of charm and strangeness. It’s non-linear. It just grew.

The path, on the other hand, is a structure. And it has a function; it leads from here to there, or from A to B. It’s extremely linear; even when it doubles back and crosses itself it does so with an air of purpose. It says: ‘I know where I’m going, even if you don’t.’ It was made.

I expect you can see where this is going. Each novel or story is a path (because it’s linear, because it begins on page one and goes on steadily through all the pages in the usual order until it gets to the end) that goes through a wood. The wood is the world in which the characters live and have their being; it’s the realm of all the things that could possibly happen to them; it’s the notional space where their histories exist, and where their future lives are going to continue after the story reaches the last page.”

“That’s what I mean by the wood and the path, anyway. It’s the difference between the story-world and the story-line. And I want to stress again that the business of the storyteller is with the story-line, with the path. You can make your story-wood, your invented world, as rich and full as you like, but be very, very careful not to be tempted off the path…don’t leave the path.

The reason for this is simple: if you leave the path, the readers put down the book.”

That is basically what Morgenstern does. Leave the path to explore the woods.

Neil Gaiman - American Gods

This book was recommended by the same person who introduced David Mitchell (number9dream) to me. It was then recommended by another colleague who borrowed number9dream from me. So, it had to be read. 590+ page chunkster or not, it had to be read. I finished it about a month back, and my head's been reeling since. I don't really know how to pen my thoughts down, for this book is epic. But - I have to do better. I have to, at least, give it a shot. So, here goes nothing.

American Gods is literally about American Gods, and how they immigrated to the Americas with their believers, back in the day. Centuries (and generations) later, people have lost faith (as they do), but the Gods continue to live - or exist - as they try and find their place in the new age, when new Gods of technology, media and television have taken the place that originally belongs to them. With the impending storm, a battle is brewing - a battle between the gods, to see which ones survive, and which ones fade into nothing.

“Gods die. And when they truly die they are unmourned and unremembered. Ideas are more difficult to kill than people, but they can be killed, in the end.”

Shadow, recently released from prison, only to discover that his wife has died in unfortunate circumstances is approached by Wednesday - a man who has many-a-trick up his sleeve. He hires Shadow as a driver of sorts, and so begins the journey to the heart of America, a road trip a la On The Road.

“This is the only country in the world," said Wednesday, into the stillness, "that worries about what it is."

The rest of them know what they are. No one ever needs to go searching for the heart of Norway. Or looks for the soul of Mozambique. They know what they are.”

The journey is to gather up all the old Gods to lead them to the battleground, and fight the new Gods. Yes, even Gods have power-struggles!

The paradigms were shifting. He could feel it. The old world, a world of infinite vastness and illimitable resources and future, was being confronted by something else—a web of energy, of opinions, of gulfs. People believe, thought Shadow. It’s what people do. They believe. And then they will not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things, and do not trust the conjurations. People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales. People imagine, and people believe: and it is that belief, that rock-solid belief, that makes things happen.

And then there's poor Shadow stuck in the middle, haunted by the physical presence of his dead wife, trying desperately to find some kind of solace with coin tricks, and get over the events of the recent past, and make some sense of the current events: the Gods, the carousel that spins till he reaches the place with the statues of the Gods, disappearances of people, and a myriad of characters - some human, and some, well, Gods. If it's not one thing, it's another. Even in the unlikeliest of places. But, that possibly, was the biggest problem with Shadow's character - despite being Wednesday's driver for most of the book, he really is just a passenger; passive and just along for the ride, while things happen in spite of him. An unlikely protagonist, some might say. Unlikely compared to say, his dead wife, Laura, or the enigmatic Wednesday.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and you can expect to see a lot more Gaiman on here! It's a hell of a ride, and in parts, it's exasperating, but all said and done, it's absolutely worth a read!

And to finish off, one extremely long quote (shamelessly copied from the internet), which I absolutely loved:

“I can believe things that are true and things that aren't true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they're true or not.

I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Beatles and Marilyn Monroe and Elvis and Mister Ed. Listen - I believe that people are perfectable, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkled lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women.

I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone's ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state.

I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste.

I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we'll all be wiped out by the common cold like martians in War of the Worlds.

I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman.

I believe that mankind's destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it's aerodynamically impossible for a bumble bee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there's a cat in a box somewhere who's alive and dead at the same time (although if they don't ever open the box to feed it it'll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself.

I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn't even know that I'm alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck.

I believe that anyone who says sex is overrated just hasn't done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what's going on will lie about the little things too.

I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman's right to choose, a baby's right to live, that while all human life is sacred there's nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system.

I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you're alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it.”

The pantheon of Gods unleashed on the readers is like a deep-dive into the world of mythology. The gods, incarnated as ordinary imperfect people, grace the pages, and reading about their past is fantastic. In fact, some of those bits were the most interesting in this chunkster, which I did fly through. It's a long-winded meandering book, with plenty of detours and excessive digressions, some of which are relevant and some of which not. At times, Gaiman does ramble on for a bit, but his writing is incredibly witty and for the entire book, he keeps the reader (well, me!) hooked.

Daphne du Maurier - The House On The Strand

What better way of spending a Sunday evening than curled up in bed, with a box of the world's best chocolates, and a Daphne du Maurier? Well, possibly if the book wasn't The House On The Strand...

Yes, I know that's harsh, but if you compare this book to the likes of Rebecca or My Cousin Rachel, it falls well short. Possibly, that's where I, as a reader, fell short - setting high expectations on a relatively obscure book by a fairly renowned author. Blame the gist on the back of the book for that though - after all, a story about time-travel always has potential.

So, when Dick Young, takes a break from reality in his friend's (Magnus) Cornwall house, things get interesting as he agrees to be the guinea-pig for a drug developed by Magnus that results in him walking the streets of Cornwall in the thirteenth century, things are bound to get interesting. Dick's looking for an escape, as he tries to figure out the next steps in his marriage and career, and Magnus is curious to see what happens with this magnificent drug that he's created, and how different people react to it.

The first couple of "trips" introduce him to a myriad of characters who were alive in the High Middle Ages; co-incidentally, Magnus' first trip with this drug introduced him to the same people, so there definitely is something about the drug - but what is it? It's not LSD or any other hallucinogen - or, if it is, why do both friends encounter the same people with every trip?And what's the relevance of this era? Why is the drug always transporting them back to the same period, and showing them the lives of characters who have no real historical importance?

Initially, I read each page eagerly, trying to figure out the hows and the whys. But instead, I was introduced to way too many characters of the past, who I cared little about. The fact that Dick came across as a fairly flat protagonist didn't help - his character didn't really evolve, and his interactions with his wife, kids and Magnus left a lot to  be desired. In fact, Magnus was the only character that was remotely interesting, but I don't think he featured enough.

As Dick swings between the present and the past, spending any free time he has in the past - even after his wife and children arrive - one marvels at both, the addiction caused by the drug and the commitment to the past that Dick has. Dick can't interact with the people he meets, nor can he make any difference. He's invisible; just a bystander, a viewer, someone who sits by and watches from the sidelines. Perhaps that's why he enjoys the past - there's no decision to make, everything just happens, in spite of him.

The ending, unfortunately, is predictable as well, which is a pity. I've come to associate Du Maurier with incredible twists and turns in her plots (yes, it only took two books to do that!), and when after a story that I found slightly tedious to read didn't even give me that, it added to the disappointment.

Don't get me wrong - I'm glad I read the book, and I will try reading Du Maurier's entire backlist in good time. I just do wish though, that the magic it weaved completely pulled me in, and left me awed for weeks after. It was not meant to be.

Margaret Atwood - Oryx and Crake

It was in September 2009 when I purchased Atwood's Oryx and Crake, and it's been sitting on my shelf since, feeling slightly neglected. I've heard mixed reviews about the book, so procrastination played its part in the delay, but I finally did pull it out, being in the mood for some post-apocalyptic fiction. My Atwood point-of-reference is The Handmaid's Tale, a book I can't recommend enough, and considering that, I thought this fell slightly short of my expectations. It might be because The Handmaid's Tale sets an incredibly high standard. I mean, all said and done, Oryx and Crake was shortlisted for both, the Booker Prize and the Orange Prize.

There's Jimmy, who has witnessed (and played a part in)the apocalypse, and is the lone human survivor, along with the children of Crake (called Crakers), and many genetically modified animals, including pigoons (a cross between pigs and raccoons used to harvest organs), rakunks (a cross between rats and skunks, which have no purpose but to serve as pets) and scary wolvogs. He reflects on the past and how he's ended up where he is, as he tries to figure out a way to survive this new reality.

Jimmy's childhood is an exaggeration of life as we know it: Online gaming and communities, pornography, watching live execution channels, playing chess and just hanging out with Crake, his closest friend. Yet, he grows up in a compound where pigoons were created and continue to be genetically modified so as to harvest more organs, and he has a rakunk as a pet. Negligent parents, no siblings, same story.

Yet, where Jimmy is ordinary, Crake is extraordinary. He is competitive, intelligent, and envisages a futuristic society where immortality can be contemplated.

Immortality [...] is a concept. If you take ‘mortality’ as being, not death, but the foreknowledge of it and the fear of it, then ‘immortality’ is the absence of such fear.

And, he conceives a world where the inhabitants are inherently nonchalant about sex and violence. They are stronger, prettier, more resilient, and can handle the stronger UV rays after the ozone layer depletes. Then, he plays god, and so, the children of Crake are born. Crake's focus on science and complete disregard of humanity as is (must end the world to create a better one philosophy) is almost scary. At what point does anyone have the right to play god? And who, if anyone, is there to check him? It might not be possible as things stand, but what if a couple of centuries later, someone did figure out how to bring "better" people into the world? Or, why not just leave life to evolution? Is that being too boring?

"As a species we're doomed by hope, then?"

"You could call it hope. That, or desperation."

"But we're doomed without hope as well," said Jimmy.

"Only as individuals," Crake said cheerfully.

"Well, it sucks."

"Jimmy, grow up."

Crake wasn't the first person who had ever said that to Jimmy.

While the Crakers were still being "developed" and taught, the deadly virus strikes, killing everyone but Jimmy, who has never interacted with them earlier, but has promised Oryx that he would take care of them, if disaster struck. It's almost as though she knew what was coming...

Oryx - the sole female protagonist - stayed calm, composed and unearthly throughout the book. Not prone to any extremisms, and in a state of perpetual indifference, Oryx almost came across as a robot. Strange as she had been sold by her parents to a gentleman, and eventually ended up as a child porn star, after which she encountered a string of unpleasant things. But her lack of emotions just made her seem too far and too distant from reality (whereas, I think, the gross exaggeration of Jimmy's childhood gets the reader closer to him).

And so - when Oryx and Crake, and everyone else die, Jimmy starts looking after the Crakers and answering the multitude of questions they throw his way - most of the answers he just makes up as he goes along. Crake has a god-like status amidst his "children" and Jimmy (or Snowman as he is now known) a demi-god-like status. He tries to use it to his advantage, but he really does try to do the right thing. That's what makes Jimmy's character slightly blasé: things happen around him in spite of him. He is not a catalyst, he is not the chemical - he's just the neutral, watching things unfold.

I think that's where my problem with the book lay  the characters! I found I cared little, if at all, about them. Honestly, the only character that seemed to have a real role was Crake, but the narrative was such that it didn't give us much insight into him. Instead, the narrative centred around Jimmy and his battles as he lives with the Crakers by the beach, trying desperately to just - survive. Just thinking aloud - I think it would have been extremely interesting if the book was written from the point of view of Crake, and what was driving him. We get a high-level insight into his philosophies, but... I felt as though I needed more.

What are your favourite dystopian novels? Which would you recommend over all else?

Daniel Keyes - Flowers For Algernon

Sometimes I wish I was intelligent enough to get into Mensa. Well, maybe not quite Mensa, but I do wish things came more easily to me than they do - things that take some people around me a just couple of hours take me a couple of days, at least, and it frustrates the living daylights out of me. And sometimes, you just need a book like Flowers of Algernon to put things in perspective. Charlie Gordon has an IQ of just 68, but he yearns to be "intelligent," so much so that he's taking classes to learn how to read and write. He lives alone, and supports himself by working in a bakery as a janitor, where he has lots of "friends."

The book is essentially Charlie's journal, in the form of "progress reports" - before he undergoes an operation which will make him smarter and after. The operation has already been successfully performed on Algernon, a mouse, and it's going to be performed on a human being for the very first time.

The operation isn't a miracle cure though - Charlie isn't going to wake up and have all the knowledge in the world. Instead, what it does is makes him much more capable of understanding and figuring out things (and imbibing knowledge), than before. In fact, he's more capable of doing that than most other people walking the planet post-operation, making him a genius. He reads up on practically everything - from literature to physics to astronomy - and tries to find people who will be able to have an intellectual conversation with him. Mostly, he's unsuccessful in that endeavour.

His sudden genius scares off his colleagues at the bakery, who he discovers were laughing at him, not with him, and eventually, he loses his job at the bakery. When he starts interacting with women, and the surge of emotions are almost alien to him. The emotional confusion and turmoil he goes through is incredibly portrayed, as he questions his life before and after the surgery. His emotional intelligence is still the same as it was earlier, but his actual IQ is higher. It does raise the very important question: Was his life prior to the surgery better or worse? Was he "luckier" to be spared of the confusing emotions that people go through, or not really?

His emotional roller-coaster continues as memories of his past, his family, and his childhood come flooding back, and he tries to decipher them - who's the hero, who the villain, and where did he fit in? How much of it was his fault, and how much totally beyond his control?

I have often read my early progress reports and seen the illiteracy, the childish naivete, the mind of low intelligence peering from a dark room, through the keyhole, at the dazzling light outside. In my dreams and memories, I've seen Charlie (referring to himself pre-op) smiling happily and uncertainly at what people around him were saying. Even in my dullness I knew I was inferior. Other people had something I lacked - something denied me. In my mental blindness, I had believed it was somehow connected with the ability to read and write, and I was sure that if I could get those skills I would have intelligence too.

This book was a wonderful thought-provoking read, which was incredibly written, and seems so contemporary, that it's incredibly surprising that it was first published as a short story in the 1950s. It made me think about scientific experiments being performed on animals and humans, are the risks and rewards actually measured properly, and are the risks really worth it? On another note, it made me wonder if life would be easier if we were all "simpler" - not caught up in the rat-race or the politics that defines our lives? And of course, I did find myself questioning whether the surgery Charlie underwent was actually worth it, or not?

John Wyndham - The Chrysalids

When I was quite small I would sometimes dream of a city -which was strange because it began before I even knew what a city was.

So opens John Wyndham's post-nuclear catastrophe dystopian novel, as narrated by David, a child living in a small place called Labrador. Not much is known about the nuclear war, how humanity survived, and the extent of the damage done. That's all in the past - all that matters is the present state of affairs, the present society, where mutation of any form is illegal, and anyone "different" is sent out to the Fringes and cast away from society.

It's a religious society, which staunchly believes that "any creature that shall seem to be human, but is not formed thus is not human. it is neither man nor woman. It is blasphemy against the true Image of God, and hateful in the sight of God," and David's father is one of those people who follows this to the tee. Everyone is taught the basic moralities of this society at a very young age:

Watch Thou for the Mutant

The Norm is the Will of God

The Devil is the Father of Deviation

and few, if any, question these maxims. However, when David befriends a "mutant," a girl with six toes, he starts puzzling over the ways of his world. Flowers, people and animals which are considered to be "deviant" are done away with, and even new born babies are inspected by the officials, before they are given the "certificate of humanity."

David himself is "different" though - he can telepathically communicate with a group of children (think Midnight's Children). When the authorities discover the "mutation" of this group of arguably gifted children, they flee to the Fringes, to escape the fate that awaits them in Labrador, with the Inspectors hot on their heels.

While this book is essentially an adventure story, it's also a discussion on human nature and society. If we juxtapose this against the present world, the two words that come to mind immediately are fundamentalism and conformity. The religion is laid out for everyone to follow, without them having a say in it. The Bible and another book, Repentances, survived the nuclear horror, and everyone is compelled to follow them, without challenging or contradicting any of their sayings. However, if we don't challenge society's beliefs or their norms, how do we figure out what's fair and what's right? How do we grow? How do we improve ourselves? And, if everyone is identical, and there's no tolerance for any "mutation,"  how do we evolve? How do we become a "developed" society?

I think those are the points Wyndham stresses on, as he creates this post-apocalyptic world. However, this book is fast-paced and essentially a thriller, so much so that the themes he discusses blend in with the story, and very much become a part of it: from the time David questions the beliefs of the society he belongs to, to the time he ponders Enlightment.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book - my first Wyndham incidentally. Post-apocalyptic dystopian novels seem to be a genre I rather "enjoy" (slightly warped?), so are there any other books you'd recommend? Or, any other books by Wyndham? Day of the Triffids and The Midwich Cuckoos are two that have been recommended to me recently.

Terry Pratchett - Nation

Don't you love Terry Pratchett books? I do, despite never having read any in my teenage years, and Nation, a non-Discworld story, is no exception. Set in an alternate universe (or a parallel universe, if you like), this is the story of a young boy (Mau) whose homecoming has been ruined by a massive tidal wave, which has completely destroyed his village. There are no survivors, but him; and then he meets another survivor - from a shipwreck. Daphne, a posh British girl, with some royal blood, who doesn't speak the same language as Mau, nor is she accustomed to his kind of lifestyle. As they try getting acquainted with one another, Pratchett exploits the humour surrounding language and cultural differences, keeping the reader thoroughly entertained; be it Daphne cooking for him, or him not realising what pointing a gun at him meant; be it the importance of trousers or the lack of clothes altogether.

As more people seek refuge in the 'Nation', the tone of the book changes. The humour remains, but the book takes a more philosophical turn, exploring ideas of nontheism, as Mau's faith gradually evolves - from hating the gods for taking away the Nation to figuring out the importance of belief. As the two children grow up gradually, the nature of responsibilities they take on, for both - themselves and the people on the island - increases. Mau leads the people as they look for answers, while Daphne learns about breastfeeding, child-bearing and looking after the children of the other women on the island.

I did enjoy this book, despite the last chapter tying things up all too neatly. At the same time, it's important to remember that this is a young adult book, so that should not be surprising.

David Mitchell - Cloud Atlas

In January 2009, I was introduced to the wonderful world of David Mitchell by a friend, who lent me the surreal number9dream - a book I absolutely loved. She proceeded to lend me Cloud Atlas next, and it's been sitting abandoned on my unread shelf for about a year now, as I've been reluctant to pick it up for a myriad of reasons - book bloggers everywhere rave about it calling it a favourite, it's considerably chunky at 529 pages, and, well, it's Mitchell's most acclaimed book yet. Anyhow, I finally picked it up about a week back, and rode the long roller-coaster that is this book - it's a heck of a ride, you're almost begging for it to finish (as, all said and done, it is a difficult book to read), but when you eventually do turn the last page, you want to experience it all over again.

The book comprises of six independent stories, that span centuries and the atlas, of which five are told in "halves," revolving around the central tale of the post-apocalyptic future, where humans are living as savages, after The Fall. In the first set of "halves", which goes chronologically, each story is read/seen by a character in the subsequent one. In the second set, the stories start moving backwards, so the characters end up reading/seeing the story that follows. Hence, the opening chapter of the book (the first incomplete half-story) is completed in the last chapter.

The common theme that runs through the book is the presence of a "comet-shaped birthmark" - a distinction present in the protagonist of each story. Does this suggest reincarnation? The existence of the soul across generations? Or, is that merely coincidental?

Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an’ tho’ a cloud’s shape nor hue nor size don’t stay the same it’s still a cloud an’ so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud's blowed from or who the soul'll be 'morrow?

The Pacific Journals of Adam Ewing {1850s} : A journal written by an American notary in the Pacific, who befriends an English surgeon as well as a stowaway Moriori. This story is cut off mid-sentence (and comes together nicely as the last chapter)...

Letters from Zedleghem {1931} : A young aspiring bankrupt composer, Robert Frobisher, goes to Belgium to apprentice with a famous composer, hoping to make some easy money, and simultaneously finding some success. Here, he discovers The Pacific Journals in the library...

Not only are there some romantic (and otherwise) twists in the tale, but, as Frobisher details his life in the Belgian estate to an old friend, Sixsmith (in the form of letters), the reader is introduced to Frobisher's biggest work, revolutionary or gimmicky: The Cloud Atlas Sextet.

Half Lives : The First Luisa Rey Mystery {1970s} : We move across the pond for this one, where Luisa Rey is a journalist, and is focusing on a big expose on the Swannekke Island Nuclear Plant in California. Sixsmith is the scientist who gave her the lead for the story, and in time, she reads the letters written to him by Frobisher. Luisa, trying to follow in her father's footsteps, seems to be hellbent on justice (consequentialism), even if it is at the expense of her own life.

The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish {present-day} : The focus shifts to present-day United Kingdom, where Timothy Cavendish is a struggling not-so-moral publisher, but, when he is tricked into admitting himself in an old-age home, with no way out, he starts trying to figure out the best way to escape, which leads to more trouble for him. A manuscript of The First Luisa Rey Mystery was sent to him by an author, and he's contemplating publishing it...

An Orison of Somni 451 {near future} : In this dystopia, where fabricants are slaves to purebloods, Somni 451 has ascended, and managed to develop her own personality, by acquiring immense knowledge. It's a story about the struggle of powers, the violence that emerges and the unfortunate state of things as they stand. She's not a partaker though, merely an observer, who recites her life-story to an Archivist. She was watching the film of Timothy Cavendish, when she was taken away...

Sloosha’s Crossin’ an’ Ev’rythin’ After {Post-apocalyptic future} : Zach'ry is the protagonist here, in a civilisation that considers Somni god, and Ol' Georgie the devil. Zach'ry and his family are savages, in awe of the Smarts, believing that the Soul either reincarnates or gets set to stone. Technology is a myth in this civilisation, and, the people mainly herd goats or the like, living in tribes in forests, fearing invasion and power struggles by the terrifying Kona.

This book is immense - the writing style in each of the stories changes significantly, so much so that they read as completely different stories : from Victorian formal english, peppered with ampersands and other shorthands, to pidgin english which I personally found quite annoying to read. However, each style seems to reflect the age it it set in, appropriately, as well as, the structure of each story seems to be similar to its genre. For example, the Luisa Rey mystery is written in numerous short chapters, much like an airport thriller, whereas, the post-apocalyptic narration is written as a rather long rant.

The common theme that binds these stories together soars above and beyond the comet-shaped birthmark. It's a story about power, domination, and the ultimate quest to rule. The stories stress on the selfishness of people, and how ultimately, this will lead to the inevitable apocalypse.

Yes, the devil shall take the hindmost until the foremost is the hindmost. In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction.

While I enjoyed this book, parts of the stories just didn't grab me, and I was left quite unsure as to what's going on, and how these stories are inter-linked together. Why isn't it just a book of short stories? A much less author might have done that... or, attempted six different novels, with completely different themes. However, Mitchell, managed to tie most of the loose ends together, and left me questioning my own existence, and the power of one individual. It's an ambitious work, but, in my opinion, Mitchell's managed to pull it off surprisingly well.

J.K. Rowling - Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix {Audio Book}

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is the fifth book in the popular Harry Potter series. I've read the book thrice: when it first came out, before the release of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Price, and of course, prior to the final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, hitting the stores. One of my friends insisted I hadn't lived until I heard the Harry Potter audio books, and she proceeded to lend me six of the seven.

Needless to say, I was a tad bemused when I imported this to iTunes, and saw that the audio spanned twenty-eight hours. Reading the book took about seven hours. Four times more for the audiobook? However, I did finish it in five days, and, I enjoyed every second of it.

Stephen Fry narrated the story, and he did a marvellous job! He handled the emotions, the voices and the arias scenes incredibly, and actually brought J.K. Rowling's book to life. My imagination was running wild with his narration, and I was totally floored. What made the experience even better was, a couple of hours into the book, and I could actually pinpoint the voices, without having to wait for the "Hermione said quietly", or "Harry groaned" which ends most of Rowling's dialogues. Maybe reading the book helped with that, but, I was still impressed.

Order of the Phoenix takes off where Goblet of Fire ended, and the content of the book is much more mature, and significantly darker. At the end of Goblet of Fire, The Dark Lord rises again, and his followers, the Death Eaters rush to serve him again. Harry battles him, and somehow manages to survive - again! He returns to Hogwarts, and breaks the news to everyone, before school ends for the summer holidays.

In Order of the Phoenix, Harry is stuck with his Muggle family, with no word from the wizarding world whatsoever. He subscribes to the newspaper, Daily Prophet, but the front page is always bland and doesn't mention the return of Lord Voldemort at all. Even worse, the letters he's sent by his friends are superficial, with no real news about what's going on. And then - one night, his cousin and he are attacked by Dementors, who he manages to drive away, using an advanced spell. What follows is a note from the Ministry of Magic, saying Harry has been expelled from school, due to practicing magic outside school premises. Soonafter, this is rescinded, and instead, Harry has to appear for a hearing, which will deem whether he's expelled or not.

Within a few days, some Aurors (wizards who fight dark arts) come to pick up Harry and take him to his godfather's place, which is also the headquarters for The Order Of The Phoenix - a secret organisation that fights the Dark Arts, and protects the innocent who might be the target of the Dark Lord. When Harry arrives there, he is informed that the Ministry is turning a blind eye to the return of You-Know-Who, and instead, trying to undermine the efforts of Dumbledore - the only wizard that Voldemort has ever feared - as well as discredit Harry.

Despite the Ministry's best efforts, Harry is cleared of all charges, and returns to Hogwarts, to find that the Ministry has decided to impose its authority on the school as well - employing Dolores Umbridge as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. In my opinion, Umbridge might be one of the most villainous characters in the Harry Potter series (and, in fact, in children's literature). In fact, she makes Miss Trunchbull from Matilda seem angelic!

Not only is Umbridge the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but she is also the High Inquisitor, and with help from the Ministry, passes new rules and regulations, which essentially gives her supreme dictatorial power over every teacher and student at Hogwarts bar Dumbledore.

Harry is miserable back at school, due to the new changes, and tries to find happiness in the smallest things - which, Umbridge revokes one by one. Being the year of their OWL examinations, academic pressure is high as well, and of course, there is the small matter of Harry's scar hurting, and the teenager feeling the same emotions as Voldemort - and, even seeing some of the things that Voldemort does. As per every Harry Potter book, a battle scene is mandatory at the end, and Harry and his friends are forced to take on the Death Eaters and Voldemort once more... with the added pleasure of dealing with Professor Umbridge.

As I've said before, this book is far darker than any of its predecessors. Not only in terms of the magical world, but, also, in terms of the dictatorial regime that seems to be cast over the whole wizarding world. When Harry gives an interview to a newspaper, recounting the events of the previous year, he is handed with a week's worth of detention. Free speech isn't allowed, apparently. Not only that, but, the newspaper is banned from the school premises and, Umbridge has threatened severe action if she sees anyone with the newspaper. All societies, teams, groups, and organisations that have more than three students needs to be signed off by Umbridge - including the Gryffindor quidditch team. And, when Harry gets into a spat with Malfoy, who insults the Weasleys as well as his dead mother, Harry is the one who bears the brunt of the punishment, while Malfoy walks away scot-free.

The fear of losing power (to Dumbledore) is what keeps the Ministry going - not the welfare and safety of the "subjects" of their kingdom. Spies are everywhere, and, no one knows who to is trustworthy, and who will turn out to be a sneak. It looks like Voldemort has successfully managed dividing the wizarding community, without even trying, and at the end of the day, that's the kind of thing he does best : divide, conquer, rule.

Rating : A+ {for Stephen Fry's narration}

Terry Pratchett - Equal Rites

Terry Pratchett's Equal Rites is the third book of the Discworld series, and, it's the first Discworld book that I have read. Equal Rites explores the world where women cannot be wizards, and men cannot be witches. However, when a dying wizard visits a blacksmith, things in the wizarding world are about to change. The blacksmith is the eighth son, and his wife is about to give birth to their eighth son - perfect for the dying wizard to pass on his staff. Granny Weatherwax, a central character, who helps bring the baby into world, takes the baby to the smith, who makes it grab the staff. The old wizard dies, but, what the smith failed to realise is, the newborn baby blessed with magical wizard powers is a girl!

For the first eight years of her life, the girl, Eskarina, shows no sign of magical powers. Once she inadvertently turns her brother into a pig, Esk's parents, under Granny's advice, decide that she needs to go to the Unseen University - a University where girls are not allowed, as female wizards are against the lore! There, and only there, will she be trained to practice magic responsibly.

Esk, of course had not been trained, and it is well known that a vital ingredient of success is not knowing that what you are attempting can't be done. A person ignorant of the possibility of failure can be a half-brick in the path of the bicycle of history.

With the staff giving her the power, Esk takes on the journey through the hills, towns, rivers and valleys of Discworld, to find her place in a man's world, against all odds. With all the child-like rebellion in the world, and the obstinacy, Esk runs away from Granny, attempts finding her own path, but, at the end of the day, she needs Granny's help to take her places she wants to go, to ensure she fulfils her destiny - to become a wizard.

Not only does this book tackle the equal rights debate quite effectively, but what makes it thoroughly charming is Esk's character coupled with Granny's attitude. Esk, brimming with innocence as well as impulsiveness, is a great character, and her adventures are wildly entertaining. Granny, on the other hand, is careful and protective of Esk, while having some of the most humorous lines in the story, and all-in-all, making the reader wish they actually knew her! Oh, and the town the story is set in is called Bad Ass. It can't get much better, can it?

This book can easily be read as a standalone, as it doesn't really refer to any previous on-goings.

Rating : B+

John Christopher - The Death Of Grass

Background: While this month, my blog entries seem to be focused a lot on the Take A Chance challenge, it's only because the challenge is up end of month, and I am actually trying to finish it. After this, I only have one more challenge to tackle, and I've already started the final book (David Guterson's East of the Mountain).

This is challenge#1, i.e. "Random Book Selection". My random directions included going to the fiction corner at Waterstones, and selecting the fourteenth book from the third shelf on the second book-case. Coming up with a Penguin Modern Classic, I think, was a shade of luck.

I don't normally compare or contrast books, but, the best way to define this book would be Lord of the Flies meeting The Road. Considering The Death of Grass was published in the 1950s, and The Road in the 21st century, it might not be the fairest statement, but, when I finished the book, that's the first thing that came to my mind.

Survival of the fittest. That's what it's about - even if it means civilised people killing their fellow citizens, contemplating leaving a young boy to die, heartlessly killing a couple, and keeping their eyes on reaching a "safe haven" of sorts. Finding comfort in the fact that they will be able to re-acquaint themselves with humanity upon reaching this haven, the protagonists (and their countrymen) resort to barbarism and anarchism, just to survive.

He stared up at her, incredulously, while she did so, and was still staring when the bullets began tearing through his body. He shrieked once or twice, and then was quiet. She went on firing until the magazine was exhausted. There was comparative silence after that, broken only by Mary's sobbing.

A developed country, England, is in turmoil, after the Chung-Li virus has wiped out all their "grass" and "grass crops," including rice and wheat. The Chung-Li virus has already caused widespread disruption in Asia, and the Europeans had seen them resort to their worst sides as the resulting famine ensured the lack of food for everyone. However, they attributed the disaster to the "lack of thoroughness" of the Asiatics, and figured that being in a developed country, they would never stoop so low.

The ecosystem is collapsing, but the government issues some false press that the virus is in control, in order to calm the civilians, and prevent them from panicking and acting out of haste. However, what the government has in mind is, for lack of better words, scary. Atomic bombs can deplete life; subsequently drastically decreasing the number of mouths to feed. Aid from the United States has come to a halt, and now, England is battling alone.

John Custance, an architect in London, on a heads up from a close friend, decides to make a break for his brother's farm in the North, with his family and close friends. There, he figures, they will all be safe, until the crisis is over, and they can return to normalcy.

However, what ensues begs the question: Can their lives ever return to what it used to be like? The journey up North is difficult, violent, and life-changing in every way imaginable. People kill for food, for shelter, for survival. The fall of the government has just led to people's darker sides taking over, and we see brutal scenes of rape, as well as, pure cold-blooded killing. Some members of the group are trying to hold on to their humanity. Some have left it behind, with the single goal of reaching the farm in mind.

This is a bleak depressing book, which makes me question my faith in humanity. When push comes to shove, will we resort to killing our own to survive? When the ecosystems break down, will we sacrifice everything that supposedly differentiates us from other beings, just to make it? Will we do anything in the world to protect our friends, families and loved ones? Even if it means compromising on the ideals we've always believed in?

Just as most of the book is bleak and disheartening, the ending is unbelievably despondent, and you're just left gaping, wondering how on earth did humanity end up like this. And then, you thank your stars that this is merely fiction...

...But, for how long?

Can you imagine killing someone in cold blood, just because they have shelter and food? And how would you react when you knew the odds were against you, but, you knew exactly what you had to do if you wanted to live another day?

Rating : A

Neil Gaiman - Coraline

Coraline has just moved to a new house, and after acquainting herself with the neighbours, she sets about to 'explore' the place, for, you see, she is a self-acclaimed "explorer". She finds the well she's been warned to stay away from, just to know what to stay away from, and spends as much time outdoors as possible. However, one rainy day, she stumbles upon a door in the living room, which opens only to greet her with a brick wall. And apparently, nothing on the other side - or so Coraline's mother tells her.

However, surprise, surprise! One fine day, the brick wall disappears and Coraline finds herself in a parallel world, where the "flat" seems to be an exact replica of her flat - including Mother and Father, or the "other mother" and the "other father" - who look similar to Coraline's parents but...

Coraline went into the kitchen, where the voice had come from. A woman stood in the kitchen with her back to Coraline. She looked a little like Coraline's mother. Only...

Only her skin was white as paper.

Only she was taller and thinner.

Only her fingers were too long, and they never stopped moving, and her dark-red fingernails were curved and sharp.

"Coraline?" the woman said. "Is that you?"

And then she turned around. Her eyes were big black buttons.

Her "other" parents don't want much - they just want an obedient daughter to stay with them, and love them.... and when Coraline's ready to commit to that, they can sew the buttons on to her eyes as well! Creepy...

I loved this book, for its simplicity, innocence, and of course, the feel-good factor. It's a children's books, but the story is enjoyable for most people, and while there are bits and bobs which are predictable, one has to keep in mind the audience the book is meant to cater to. You have talking cats, spying rats, an unassuming heroine, and some great characters.

I haven't seen the movie, yet, but I do want to... might have to rent it on DVD or something.

This was my first book by Neil Gaiman, but I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for more of his works.

Rating: 4