Author: aliensarewatching

Nostalgia in a book

I’ve been laid up with a recurring infection that has put me behind on my reviews. Not to mention my reading, though that has been on the back burner for years now.

This One Summer by Mariko and Jillian Tamaki is an award-winning graphic novel published as recently as 2015. Rose is twelve, and is spending the summer in her family’s cottage in Awago with her parents. She is reunited with her younger friend Windy for a couple of months of swimming and midday candy.

But twelve is that awkward age when one is old enough to notice adult things happening, but still too young to understand them. Rose’s mother is behaving strangely, and her parents are arguing. She notices an older boy, and toys with the idea of ‘like liking’ him. She watches an older girl struggle with a difficult decision.

All the events are very relatable, and the illustrations are lovely. It’s just the extreme awkwardness that put me off this book. I basically walked (hopped?) around with my foot in my mouth during my teens, and it’s still a struggle to not be a self-obsessed, pretentious a**hat. But Rose is really awful at saying the right thing, or being perceptive. She accidentally insults Windy (who’s the adopted child of lesbians) multiple times, slut-shames a girl with no guilt, and has no sympathy for an upset family member. It’s a bit cringeworthy.

All in all, this is a very realistic depiction of an uneventful summer through the eyes of a girl who has just begun to grow up. It’s a short read, and I would recommend it if you are a female who likes graphic novels. 2/5 from me.

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A Country Doctor’s Notebook

Remember the Netflix show A Young Doctor’s Notebook I mentioned last time? Daniel Radcliffe plays a newly-minted doctor who is chucked into Middle-of-Nowhere, Russia, to run the hospital there. He faces syphilis, gangrene, and boredom and lives to tell the tale. It’s dark, dark humour, friends. Not for the faint of heart.

Well, when I realized that it was based on a real-life memoir (or stories-based-on-real-life, rather) , of course I had to read it. The show got over much too quickly for my liking and I wanted more stories about the horrible doctor Nika.

But- much to my dismay- the memoir was written in earnest by a sincere and competent doctor/author who lived and worked in Russia a hundred years ago. Imagine the guilt. A Country Doctor’s Notebook, by Mikhail Bulgakov is a short book but packs a punch.

A hundred years ago, Mikhail Bulgakov kept a journal about his experiences in a village hospital in Smolensk. In 1920, he published a compilation of short stories based on these years. Bulgakov comes across as an earnest young man, far from the show’s portrayal of him. The simplicity and humility of the narration (courtesy a Russian-English translator) reminded me of RK Narayan.

Unlike Malgudi Days, however, this book did not have me longing for a simpler time. It’s hard to feel nostalgic for the days of poor anaesthesia, disinfectants, and primitive amputations. Oh, and also the Russian Revolution. There is no romance, or comedy- only homesickness and desperation. It’s difficult to say any more about the stories for fear of spoilers, but suffice to say that doctors back then had unimaginable struggles.

I’ll stick to my policy of not rating real-life stories, but be warned that this collection is not especially eventful or entertaining. Interestingly though, its original publication date of 1917 makes it one of the oldest books I’ve ever read (with the possible exception of ‘classics’).

The Idiot Box, for pseudo-intellectuals

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately watching television series. The advent of streaming services like Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu and what-have-you means that a much larger variety of programmes are being released, and some of them are real gems. Plus, they’re now released one season at a time, which makes patience-deficient people like me very happy. This post will review Parks and Recreation, A Young Doctor’s Notebook, and Anne With An E. I’m not sure whether to attribute credit to the directors or producers or actors, so I’ll just say that these shows are all available on Netflix.

Anne With An E

This is an adaptation of Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery, which has always been a favourite of mine.

It’s the story of a cheerful young woman who is accidentally sent from her orphanage to be adopted by an elderly brother and sister, who wanted a boy to help them on the farm. They’re too kind-hearted to send her back, so she grows up on the beautiful Prince Edward Island in Canada. Despite being a bit of an airhead, Anne is bright and makes Marilla and Matthew proud. I like this book because it’s full of escapism- Anne avoids her problems or embellishes them with the Power of Imagination. She’s ambitious and despite getting into many scrapes always manages to endear herself to the people around her. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a charmingly clumsy, intelligent successful girl with a fairytale romance and a ‘genius for friendship’?

But then Netflix happened. Today’s television is about gritty realism, and realistically, a young girl who’s been abused as much as Anne was is bound to have problems. Her imagination is a symptom of PTSD, Marilla is a feminist, and Mathew is NOT Mathew. It’s a completely new take on a much-loved story (especially in Japan) and fans will either love it or hate it. I, for one, couldn’t bring myself to watch more than a couple of episodes.

Watch this if you’re a fan of the original series and are interested in seeing a very new take on it.

Parks and Recreation

This show is adorable. I fully acknowledge that it is girly and derivative, but it is undeniably a feel-good show, and sometimes after a long day at work that’s just what you need.

It’s a mockumentary (much like The Office) about the employees of the Parks and Recreation department of Pawnee, a small town in the American Midwest. The government employees are exactly what you would expect- disinterested, disillusioned, incompetent (totally mucked up the alliteration there, oops). With the exception of Leslie Knope, a geeky woman with a mission to improve Pawnee’s parks- and become president.

The show really changes its dynamic after the second season and I’d recommend you start there if you don’t like the first episode or two. Watch and laugh as Leslie fights the patriarchy and bullies everyone around her into finding happiness. Seven seasons of pure cheese.

A Young Doctor’s Notebook

This show is the polar opposite of Parks and Rec. Where P&R is all about sunshine and nature and friendship and success, AYDC is about snow and wrong intentions and gangrene.

Nika is a newly-minted doctor who has earned 15 fives in his Moscow University exams. It’s unclear what the significance of those fives are, but he seems pleased with himself. Unfortunately, his book learning proves insufficient when he is assigned to a small rural hospital in Middle-of-Nowhere, Russia, during a revolution.

This is a black comedy that takes things almost too far. Be prepared for gratuitous gore… and syphilis. My biggest issue with this show is that it’s so frustratingly short- there are currently a total of 9 episodes over 2 series, and each episode is only 20 minutes long. Otherwise, it’s a very enjoyable show, if a little too brutal.

Now, back to the book reviews…

Hey look, this sci-fi book passes the Bechdel test

This is my review of The Year of the Flood, the second book in the MaddAddam trilogy by Margaret Atwood.

A decade (and a half, maybe) ago, an aunt of mine read Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. It was the peak of the Harry Potter craze, and people were speculating wildly about the next book- whichever number it was- and queuing up outside bookstores at 6 a.m. to grab their copies. My aunt wanted to know what made this series like catnip for teenagers. Her verdict: It was overly detailed, and filled with Chekhov’s guns, thus providing endless fodder for analysis. The magic was also made less ‘ridiculous’ and, well, fantastic, because there were prosaic details too. For every mention of a Goblin-run bank, there was also a reasonable- sounding currency conversion.

I liked Oryx and Crake for basically the same reasons. It was science fiction with a human touch, a supervillain origin story with high school nerds- the combination was promising. Yes, there were genetically modified animals running around, but some of them were failed beta tests. I had to get more of this universe!

Similar to O&C, The Year of the Flood is also written from two points of view. This time, the protagonists are two women, Toby and Ren. They are both former members of a religious cult called God’s Gardeners, and by pure luck have survived the deadly epidemic that Crake unleashed. The book reveals their backstories, and what life is like for ordinary citizens amidst all the bioterrorism.

The most enjoyable parts of the book were the scenes in God’s Gardeners, a group that preaches vegetarianism and the need to stop harming God’s creatures. It was interesting to me how very reasonable the cult was- there was no brainwashing, and they provided security to non-believers, as long as they were productive and cooperative. Sometimes, support systems can be born from a shared questionable belief; too often, it’s the other way round.

The parts I liked the least were basically everything else; the story is tangential to the main plot of O&C, and barely reveals any new details. Ren dated Jimmy briefly whilst at college. She still carries a torch for him, but this has no bearing on any events. Essentially, this is like the Director’s Cut of the original plot- interesting scenes, but just for the true enthusiasts.

Margaret Atwood also wrote the modern classic The Handmaid’s Tale, about a modern Puritan society that strips women of fundamental rights. True to her role as a feminist icon, Atwood makes sure that Toby and Ren’s experiences are strongly coloured by their sexuality. They are motivated by love and wounded by gendered insults; many of their trials are related to sexual abuse. There is no overt feminism or man-bashing, something I was very glad of. These days, I find that political correctness is often brought to the attention of readers explicitly by self-satisfied authors (“Look look, this Sci-Fi book passes the Bechdel test!”)

I will definitely be reading Maddaddam (Book#3 in this trilogy), but perhaps with less enthusiasm. 2.5/5. Recommended only if you really enjoyed Oryx and Crake.

You’ve been warned

This is my review of the short story anthology Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman.

One notable thing about today’s children’s/YA authors is that they’re approachable, and celebrities in their own right. John Green has a vlog and is active on social media, JK Rowling expresses her political opinions freely on Twitter, and Neil Gaiman- Neil Gaiman is basically the hero that my emo, pretentious, teenaged self needed but did not deserve. He is unabashedly geeky and frequently drops nuggets of inspiration that probably keep tired young writers plugging along for an extra edit, or a few hundred more words.

The reason this stands out to me is that many classic children’s authors took a very different stance- they tried to teach us lessons or preach morality. Enid Blyton got a lot of criticism for her depiction of naughty black golliwogs, since the original toys were overtly racist. I’m inclined to see this as a sign of the times, rather than deliberate spite towards people of colour. I’ve read conspiracy theories on homosexual undertones in Noddy and Big Ears’ relationship, but that’s unlikely. CS Lewis intended his Narnia books to be a religious allegory, with Aslan representing Jesus, but the metaphor flew over my preteen head. Herge’s Tintin in America has several pages that so offensive to Native Americans that the book was not published for several decades. It was re-released in the 2000s with a disclaimer, and I was shocked to see panels of ‘foolish’ brown natives worshipping Tintin as a god.

With all these precedents, I’m glad to see authors being more responsible about the influence they wield over young minds.

Trigger Warning refers to the warning (D’oh) on content that may be frightening or emotionally disturbing to people who have experienced trauma, or who are sensitive to gore or violence. Say, PTSD sufferers or rape victims. Gaiman points out that very often, literature is meant to take us out of our comfort zone. The experience is not always pleasant, but almost always educational.

Funnily enough, Gaiman himself does not venture far out of his writing comfort zone. He sticks to urban fantasy for the most part. I found that after a point, the stories sort of blended together until I felt like I was slogging through the same twists again and again- not an accurate impression, but one that I just couldn’t shake off.

There are some gems in there- The Man Who Forgot Ray Bradbury hit me right in the feels. For best effect, listen to the audio version. There’s an interesting take on Sherlock Holmes and his bee-keeping efforts (remember, after he retires he takes up bee keeping in the country!). There’s an interesting Doctor Who story as well. But most of the rest of them were Gaiman’s usual fairytales. The book starts off with a sort of meta-description of how he developed the ideas for each of the stories. This little peephole into his brain is sure to delight any wannabe writers. As a casual reader, however, I found that it disrupted my reading experience since I couldn’t map the anecdotes to the right story and had to keep flipping back and forth.

Or maybe I’ve just outgrown his writing (the horror!)

I would still recommend this if you’re a fan of urban fantasy, or you want some short stories to dip into from time to time. 3.5/5

In an old house in England…

This is my review of the play Arcadia, by Tom Stoppard.

I was led to this play via a mention of the grouse population problem in another work of fiction. A Google search told me that this is a modern play that has mathematical references. Since I’m a sucker for Sci-Fi, I had to give it a shot.

The last play that I read was the much-maligned Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. I’ve read film scripts before too, out of sheer laziness. What I’ve realized is that scripts are, by necessity, a very crude medium for storytelling. Yes, spells can be cast non-verbally and very destructive spells do exist. But it is far more visually appealing to have duellers dodging blasts of colourful light. On film or stage, visual effects are necessary, even at the expense of a plot hole or two. For more obvious reasons, you also cannot have any trains of thought, or flashbacks, or any other crutches to help a dull audience member understand a character’s motivations.

I tried very hard to keep all these constraints in mind while reading Arcadia, because a lot of the subtler plot points are given away by casting and set design commentary, and a reader loses out on the experience of piecing the clues together on their own.

The first scene shows us a young man with then improbable name ‘Septimus Hodge’ tutoring the young Thomasina. It’s the early nineteenth century, and tutor and tutee(?) engage in some Oscar Wilde-worthy banter. It’s clear that Septimus and Thomasina are both extremely intelligent. The first few scenes are a delight, both for the wordplay and the way that anachronistic science and mathematics is discussed from a perspective that is very different from today.

In the present day, a scholar is studying the architectural style of the house; a scientist plays with data he finds in old hunting records; and a historian tries to uncover the story behind an eccentric genius who lived in the house nearly two centuries before.

These two storylines are interleaved with each other, with many visual parallels- the old house, lookalike characters. It’s set up as a mysterious collision with some revelations at the end. Unfortunately it’s not quite subtle enough on paper, and one doesn’t have the chance to appreciate the set design.

I would recommend this play, but only if you really take the time to sit down and visualize how the story pans out- don’t just follow the (overly simplistic) storyline like I did!

4/5. I’m not great at visualizing narrative, but if you are you’ll probably enjoy this one!

 

One Day

This is my review of One Day, by David Nicholls.

Nicholls is a well-known screenwriter, and wrote the screenplay for  Starter for 10 (and the novel on which it was based), which is a charming indie-ish comedy about quizzing. One Day has also been adapted for the big screen, but does not translate nearly as well.

One Day is a stereotypical romance novel, except it’s not. Nicholls seems to revel in de-romanticizing relationships and situations.

The story is almost simplistic. Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley are two university graduates who meet by chance on the day of their graduation. Despite a brief attempt at romance, they decide to remain friends. The book follows them and their relationship over nearly 20 years, from 1988 to 2006.

By necessity, the whole novel is made up of a series of vignettes from Dexter and Emma’s lives over the years, always on St Swithin’s Day (don’t worry, no-one knows what that is). It’s fairly obvious what the outcome is going to be- the DexAndEm EmAndDex best-friendship is clearly a cover- but the journey is long and winding and riddled with obstacles. Emma is stuck in a dead-end job despite her academic brilliance; Dexter’s career is threatened by his alcoholism; both have serious relationships.

What I liked was the brutal insight into romantic cliches. Like turning on a tubelight behind an Instagram-filtered selfie (poor analogy, but you know what I mean.) Picture this: a man and woman lie together in bed on the morning after their graduation party. In Nicholls’ version, the man has just realized that the woman is not as good-looking in the light of day. The woman is terribly nervous, and terribly pleased that she has caught the eye of this handsome, popular boy. Awkwardness ensues. Another interesting observation is that the poor, plain Emma must become well off and attractive before she finds love.

What I didn’t like was the overwhelming clichedness. We only see the characters’ personalities via dialogue, served in witty anecdotes. Each of which is repeated in two points of view. It gets tedious, but it’s still a very light, quick read.

3/5 from me. Read Love Story by Erich Segal if you want the original, classic version of this story.

Size doesn’t matter

This is my review of the short story The Story of Your Life by Ted Chiang.

I rated this story 5/5, so you might want to skip this review and go straight to the story.

Still here? Let’s see if I can persuade you.

This is a sci-fi romance revolving around physics and linguistics and philosophy. Sounds intimidating? To be honest, it is a fairly dense work and packs a lot of content into its brief 33 pages. But you can get away with just a superficial understanding of the science (it took me a while to get my head around it, I’m not sure I would put in the effort if I hadn’t liked the story).

There’s not much I can say about the plot without spoilers. It’s mapped out so you have a sudden whoosh of understanding halfway through the book. It raises the interesting question- if time didn’t progress linearly, then there would be no causality, or ‘sequence’ of events. Does that mean that we would no longer have freedom? If our entire lives were prewritten, we’re just actors in a play.

An interesting thought. Back when classical physics was in its nascent stages, science was looked at as natural philosophy. A way of looking at the world that helped natural phenomena seem less random. We’ve come a long way since then, and no longer rely on conjectures to dictate scientific thought. But this story reminded me of how much the theoretical aspects of science- physics- mathematics- relies on intuition to formulate new ideas. Along these lines, doesn’t language count as a more constructive science, like engineering? I think that the non-linear temporal perception should be a prerequisite for  learning the alien language depicted in the story and not the other way round, but that’s just nit-picking.

I found out recently that the movie Arrival is based on this story. It would be interesting to see how the complex timeline of this story is translated into film.

World War II, V2.0

I haven’t been reading much at all lately; blame Philip K Dick*. His book, The Man in the High Castle, has been on my nightstand for months. It is both fascinating and terribly difficult to read, which accounts for the procrastination…

I picked out this book because I really liked Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? It brings an abstractness and emotion to sci-fi that one rarely sees in a genre filled with stereotypes and action. After that, I had less luck with A Scanner Darkly, which is a very evocative account of a man’s descent into drug addiction. The beauty of Dick’s work is that the strong plotlines are bolstered by an immersive writing style- A Scanner Darkly gets more and more choppy (and incoherent) as the protagonist, a cop, gets drawn in to the murky world that he was meant to be investigating. He does a good job with the garbled stream of consciousness of a drug addled mind (PKD had his own struggles with drug abuse)- so good that it is hard to follow.

Anyway, I went in with very high expectations, and while I wasn’t disappointed per se, I still didn’t enjoy this book. A failing on my part, not PKD’s.

The Man in the High Castle is a speculative fiction book, set in an alternate reality where the Axis Powers won World War II. The Japanese now rule the west coast of the USA, and Jews are unwelcome. This genre of fiction is very exciting; I would have appreciated it more had I been more familiar with the historical details of the end of World War II (mostly in relation to the USA- this is clearly a large hole in my knowledge).

There are three parallel storylines that are loosely connected. One involves some good old fashioned espionage and murder. Another is about forgery of ‘traditional’ American manufactured items (that, perversely, have collector’s value in this world). The third revolves around a one night stand between strangers in a small town in Colorado that rapidly turns dark.

There are several relatively minor plot points that really stand out: all the characters use the I Ching to make decisions and divine the future; there are strongly racist feelings expressed by a white man towards the ‘superior’ Japanese- something that is prevalent in today’s world as well**. Even better, there’s a novel in the book that speaks about an alternate-alternate history in which the Axis powers were defeated. Meta enough to satisfy even the most discerning sci-fi fan.

This book is truly an immersive experience- nuances are conveyed via language and narrative pace. The scenes set in Japan-ruled San Francisco are told in choppy, metaphor-heavy language vaguely reminiscent of Japanese. In other chapters, panic is conveyed with short sentences and incomplete trains of thought.

3.5/5 from me, but PKD is still da man.

*He apparently died in 1982, and I doubt he would be heartbroken by this anyway.

**Though ‘this reverse racism’ may be obvious only among the melanin-blessed population.

Showbiz

This is my review of Bossypants by Tina Fey, narrated by Tina Fey.

All right, yes, audiobooks are cheating. But Tina Fey’s a comedienne, so her narration is likely to be better than her prose, right?

Bossypants is a memoir of Tina Fey’s life and career (up until a few years ago). She starts off talking about her childhood and early career. This part was quite amusing, because she no doubt had several anecdotes to choose from, and it is evident from the narration that she is a very talented at comedy. One of my favourite quotes: “Now every girl is expected to have Caucasian blue eyes, full Spanish lips, a classic button nose, hairless Asian skin with a California tan, a Jamaican dance hall ass, long Swedish legs, small Japanese feet, the abs of a lesbian gym owner, the hips of a nine-year-old boy, the arms of Michelle Obama, and doll tits. The person closest to actually achieving this look is Kim Kardashian, who, as we know, was made by Russian scientists to sabotage our athletes.”

It’s nearly impossible to go wrong with topics like this. Nearly every girl has memories of awkward adolescence. And the terrible first job, where you’re simultaneously incompetent and also infinitely superior to your coworkers. It stops being relatable when she begins her stint at SNL, though. Instead of juicy showbiz tales, she focuses on her (in)famous role as Sarah Palin and walking the fine line between humour and mockery. The section on starting off 30Rock is also disappointing.

The best part about this book is the complete lack of preachy-advice-for-young women. Fey acknowledges her relatively privileged upbringing and television success without seeming self deprecating or resorting to false modesty. She is talented, definitely, and spent years honing her skills in touring improv groups before hitting the bigtime. Her family life is also refreshingly ordinary, and she expresses genuine appreciation and respect for many of her colleagues. All in all, this is a very readable book, unlike other certain other memoirs *cough*.

3/5 from me, listen to the audiobook for amusing narration that doesn’t require (or provoke) too much thought.

What I particularly disliked was a section towards the end that seemed like a stream of consciousness discourse on the topic of whether or not she should have another child (she eventually did, Wikipedia says). I realize that motherhood is a life-altering event, and work-life balance, the biological clock, and childcare are all major issues for working women. However, as someone who cannot relate (and honestly, was just there for the comedy), this seemed like an almost awkwardly personal commentary. I would suggest just skipping it if you can.