The Age of Spiritual Machines: When Computers Exceed Human Intelligence (1999)

Author: Ray Kurzweil | Page Count: 400

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE AN OPTIMIST?"

"I have been accused of that..."

This text is a complicated and multi-layered mountain to climb. The question is of course whether or not it’s worth it. That depends at least somewhat on you, as a reader and a human being. The gigantic prism-hued elephant in the room is that this is a book built upon a foundation of predictions of the future as viewed from the late 90s. If you are a person who understands and does not lie to yourself about the world as it currently stands (read: teeters on the brink) in this second decade of the twenty-first century, you will find yourself laughing at Kurzweil’s VERY rose-tinted reading of the then-future. These predictions are wondrous to ponder, but the simple truth is that we won’t see them come to pass given how incapable we are at overcoming our petty and bellicose nature, as a species.

Is there value in reading it as (partly) a work of fiction, though? I would argue yes, if you’re able to set the narrative and speculative parts into the proper context. I say ‘partly,’ because roughly half of this text is comprised of facts, figures, real-world technological timelines, and treatises on certain aspects of quantum physics. Get ready to have a finger planted in the Notes appendix at all times. And, those notes can get to be quite lengthy. Are you up for reading what equates to a college (or graduate-level) textbook? That’s what you can look forward to for a significant portion of this venture.

I realize I’m being excessively negative and dismissive (Hello, my name IS Neg, if you weren’t already aware.), but being the person I am, and in order to be honest with anyone who would potentially be reading this, it is nothing more than a necessity born of truth. Again, if you can make yourself read the speculative portions of this as a piece of fiction, then I do believe there is merit in making the large amount of time it will take to digest this work. These works. Plural. This is because of the dual nature of the book itself and the concept album that was created as a result: Our Lady Peace’s Spiritual Machines.

As a consumer of media, whether you realize it or not, you are fishing for hope, both real and entirely fictional. The beautiful thing is that the verity of a piece of media matters little to those of us who rest our mental (and for some, spiritual) well-being upon them. Not just hope, but strength, resolve, comfort, stimulation, and countless other things essential to the human experience can all be legitimately garnered from works that derive entirely from the minds of humanity itself. Raine Maida did a spectacular job of examining some of the very human concerns springing from the technological trends discussed herein. Albeit (at least partially) from the other end of the telescope.

Indeed, while many of the basic quantum and computational concepts discussed have stuck with me, what has haunted me the most, ever since I first read this, are the philosophical ramifications that Kurzweil subtly mentions in passing by having the reader character he creates simply dismiss outright. This is clearly 1.) intentional, 2.) accurate for her arc, and 3.) presented such that they’re meant to ceaselessly be splinters in your mind, even if most of what is predicted is never able to come to pass.

To Kurzweil’s credit, perhaps he teased that aspect of it because he knew he wasn’t personally capable of fully going down that side of the path on his own. I think it really works because of that, with the value being found in the intersection of his expertise, Raine’s pathos, and the reader/listener’s willingness to engage with what’s poking out of the shadows found there.

I also like it for how it consistently gives me pause. I like that it ultimately scares me in subtle ways the Matrix trilogy simply doesn’t, no matter how hard it tries.

4 Virtual Mollies For Every Man (and Woman) out of 5

Nutted by NEG

Chapterhouse: Dune (1985)

Author: Frank Herbert  |  Page Count: 476

'Some never participate. Life happens to them. They get by on little more than dumb persistence and resist with anger or violence all things that might lift them out of resentment-filled illusions of security.'

-Alma Mavis Taraza

The last of the original Dune books wasn't planned to be the last. Frank had hoped to finish the second trilogy (Books V + VI + VII) but sadly he died before it could be written, less than one year after the publication of Chapterhouse. For the reader that means some things are left unresolved at the end of the book. The new directions hinted at don't come to pass as Frank would have directed them.*

Does that mean you shouldn't bother to read it? That's entirely up to you, but if you've read Book V: Heretics of Dune (1984), then I feel it would be folly to stop thereafter, because Book VI is an improvement upon its predecessor, bringing the quality back up to a level almost equal that of the first trilogy (I + II + III).

In Chapterhouse: Dune the Honoured Matres of the Scattering are hunting and killing the Bene Gesserit. The Sisterhood is large and spread across many planets but the Honoured Matres are erasing them from the universe on a mass scale.

To ensure the survival of both their Order and homeworld they have the option of setting something in motion that'll change everything, from the very small to the very large, like an interdependent ecology. The book explores the decision making process, among other more personal decisions, some of which are calculable to a certain degree but still dangerous.

The women have a small number of human subjects in their care, under deep scrutiny. Likewise, thanks to Frank's reveals, we're able to watch the watchers in the same manner. The Bene Gesserit view of themselves reveals much about the truth of themselves to an observer. The reader is also gifted a deeper insight into what the Spice Agony is and how it affects anyone brave enough to undergo the trial. (Like the aphorism says, change is the only constant.)

I was left wondering if, like in previous books, some of the passages/testimonials that introduce each chapter (in a sense presented as histories acting as a kind of prescient commentary when placed out of their original time) were from someone who would go on to play a key role in the next book; and if so, would their actions change how I view the things they said in this one.

4½ specialised complexities out of 5

*Brian Herbert (Frank's son) and Kevin J Anderson took up the mantle and attempted to write Dune VII, but rather than one book they did a Peter Jackson and split it into multiple parts (well, two). The books are called Hunters of Dune (2006) and Sandworms of Dune (2007). I've not read either of them because I read two-thirds of their Prelude to Dune Trilogy and found them to be a mere shadow of what Frank achieved, padded out with filler and lacking the multitudinous layers of what Dune should be. If I ever do give their Dune VII a try, I'll link to them.

Heretics of Dune (1984)

Author: Frank Herbert  |  Page Count: 508

'When things change, your absolute universe vanishes, no longer accesible for your self-limiting perceptions. The universe has moved beyond you.'

-First Draft, Atreides Manifesto, Bene Gesserit Archives

Fifteen-hundred years have passed since the God Emperor's extended reign came to an end. Previously we witnessed Leto II musing upon the role his religion had to play in the great work and the sacrifices he had to pay to ensure it was carried out. Now we're privy to how the various factions that endure respond to that legacy and how they choose to act within its various interpretations.

Each group dreams of dominance while attempting to make the best of what the Tyrant left them. They strive to elevate their place in the universe's new shape. They're hopeful elements adrift in the human current believing their order worthy of filling the impossible gap left by his absence. They even begin to believe the whispering assurances of their own ego.

Heretics explores the 'myth of the Messiah' after he's passed, mostly by reference to, and direct experience of, movements within the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood.

The labels we give to things in some ways define and influence them, so it's fascinating to see how place names change over time. Frank incorporated that phenomenon into the book's structure and explores the question of whether or not the new names also change the people that reside there, or do old prejudices remain, hidden, diluted but still potent in the right hands?

Concepts and belief systems can also change and grow in the same manner. The Tyrant, for example, in some circles has become known as the Divided God, referencing the belief that he exists still as separate pearls of awareness in an endless dream. His Golden Path rolls onward.

Many different dependency infrastructures exist within the novel. Much of your reading will require you to recognise them and weigh their importance with regards to the bigger picture. I believe that's the best way to approach it, because those seeking a quick fix or a standalone resolution will be left wanting - the Divided God's story is split across more than one book. (Book VI is HERE.)

4 wordless understandings out of 5

NOTE: I'm aware that the picture on the cover is the same as on God Emperor of Dune (1981). It depicts a scene from Book IV, so was obviously an error on the publishers part (New English Library), but that's how my editions are.

Moon Over Manifest (2010)

Author: Clare Vanderpool  |  Page Count: 351

"Who would dare think the outcast and abandoned can find a home? Who would dream that one can love without being crushed under the weight of it? A miracle cure to heal the sick? Pah. What makes us think any of this could be true? And yet all of us, we participate in this myth, we create it, perpetuate it."

Staged in the desolate years of America’s Great Depression, Clare Vanderpool’s first novel sets out to be a work of historical fiction but flies past such categorization almost instantaneously, instead choosing to consistently dwell pleasingly deep in a pool of careful and subtle characterization. As it opens, Abilene Tucker is on her way to Manifest, Kansas, a town her father Gideon has always colorfully spoken of during their life on the road.

Though the color palette and physical reality of the town may initially seem far more drab than she had envisioned, the intrigue and mystery that almost instantly manifests itself draws her and the reader into a vibrant, intricate, and sometimes foreboding yarn.

The rub is that as an adult reader the twists and turns are almost always easy to see coming. However, this is in actuality a non-issue as 1.) it’s children’s literature, 2.) a focus of the narrative is the power of seeing a story unfold even if you know the ending, and 3.) it had me so focused on what I assumed was the biggest reveal that I didn't see the ending coming at all.

It’s really quite an exquisite work in that it can show young readers how effectively plot threads, events, and objects can be woven together into a dense, satisfying reading experience. It does this with great delicate care much more akin to Watchmen (1987) than John Green’s An Abundance of Katherines (2006), which I personally feel was unreadable because of its hammer-fisted attempts to guide readers into understanding the use and value of metaphors.

I randomly chose this from the shelf when I found myself in a library in need of mental stimulation and it pleases me to think that those in its intended audience can do much the same and be equally as surprised and fulfilled.

4½ Tracks to Here and Back out of 5

Nutted by NEG

The Halloween Tree (1972 / 2015)

Author: Ray Bradbury  |  Illustrator: Gris Grimly  |  Page Count: 144

'The wind played a flute in a chimney somewhere; an old song about time and dark and far places. The tall man shut up his smile like a bright pocketknife.'

A new HB edition of Bradbury's 1972 children's book that has black and white and colour illustrations by Gris Grimly in place of the classic Joe Mugnaini art. Joe's art is much more dramatically menacing, but Grimly's 'darkly whimsical' style is also well-suited to the text, a story of eight friends who go on a journey one magical Halloween night. They're trying to solve a mystery and save a friend who may or may not be feeling quite himself. As they search for one thing they uncover answers to many things, deepening the allure of the season.

It begins in an unnamed mid-west American state with Tom Skelton, aged thirteen, going out to trick or treat with his friends, each one dressed in a different but traditional fright-night costume. But why are they traditional? What do witches have to do with an autumnal festival? Why are bandaged mummies paraded just once a year? As the boys uncover the mysteries of Halloween in an inimitable Bradbury way the reader learns their origin, too. Well, one interpretation of such.

Grimly's inky illustrations are highly stylised, sometimes half a page, sometimes full page. They're well-placed for the most part, but there's one colour plate in particular set before the appearance of the text it relates to. I dislike when that happens. It's almost like having sound and picture not properly synced in a film.

The colour pages are glossy and attractive, so why is the paper stock used for the text such cheap quality? It's not at all what you'd expect to see in a HB edition of an author so well-loved by so many. The publisher probably paid a lot of money for the privilege of republishing, and I realise they likely had to offset costs somehow, but compromising on paper quality is not the best solution. That's an adult concern for what's essentially a children's book, but I stand by it. It matters because if this particular edition is your child's introduction to the story, or even to Bradbury, then they may want to keep and treasure it for years to come.

3 candle constellations out of 5

True Grit (1968)

Author: Charles Portis  | Page Count: 227

“You go for a man hard enough and fast enough and he don’t have time to think about how many is with him, he thinks about himself and how he may get clear out of the wrath that is about to set down on him.”

Though it won't matter very much to anyone reading this, I've been a fan of the Western film genre for almost thirty years (thanks, mom ♥) but until picking up True Grit for the first time last week I'd never actually read a Western novel.* The reason I mention that at all is to point out that an enjoyment of one isn't dependent on a love of the other. The book and its characters are so well-written that they would stand head and shoulders above thousands of similar types no matter what year or setting they were placed in.

It's the story of a fourteen-year-old girl who sets out to avenge the murder of her father. The murder happened before the book begins, so that's not a spoiler.

The narrative is first person, told by the girl, Mattie Ross, in a conversational style. Mattie's a young woman in a man's world, but she's not the stereotype. She's strong-willed and of the view that her education puts her on equal footing and deserving an equal amount of respect to that of her elders. Her elders, for the most part, are men of low virtue who see the world very differently to her.

And then there's Deputy Marshal Rooster Cogburn who knows first-hand the cruelties and hardships that await anyone who undertakes the kind of endeavour she sets in motion. Cogburn's badge gives him licence to act the way he does, but he'd do the same even without it. He's a man of principals; ones unique to himself.

Mattie occasionally gets lost in the telling, jumping ahead of herself to give an account of things that happened years after the novel's main story. It effectively conveys her feelings about what constitutes justice, often vindicating her strong opinions about things. She likes to say 'I was right,' as much as the next man.

The dialogue is of the era (1880-ish) but never difficult to read. There's some excellent comedy moments that had me howling even though they're sometimes played straight. Portis kept the momentum thundering along from beginning to end. There wasn't a single moment when I wasn't eager to turn the page and keep on reading. His final chapter is simply astonishing.

5 measures of people out of 5

*Unless you count Stephen King's Dark Tower series, but the magical realism aspects of it complicate any kind of straight-up classification.

George's Marvellous Medicine (1981)

Author: Roald Dahl  |  Illustrator: Quentin Blake  |  Page Count: 96

'She had pale brown teeth and a small puckered-up mouth like a dog's bottom.'

I can barely remember what I did yesterday afternoon, but I can recall easily the first time I read about George Kranky's Marvellous Medicine. I was aged ten. It was a long time ago. Four separate classes in the school I attended (and loved) were gathered together in one room for an important presentation. I never did find out what was so important because soon after arrival I shuffled my way to the back left corner of a sea of cross-legged children on the floor, hid myself within the maelstrom as best I could, opened up the book and started to read. None of the teachers noticed and after a few minutes I forgot they even existed.

It's a short book with a simple plot. George's mother goes to town, leaving the eight-year-old at home with his grandmother. George hates his gran, but being the only one other than her in the house means he's now responsible for administering the old girl's daily dose of medicine. Instead of her regular brown medicine in a boring bottle, George decides to make his own concoction.

The adult part of me was screaming about how irresponsible it all was, especially when he reached the garden shed, but the part of me that still enjoys that kind of freedom was rubbing his hands together wickedly and sniggering way too much.

If you've ever wanted to write for children then there’s no better teacher than Dahl. Marvellous Medicine certainly isn't his best work, but he doesn't waste a single word and once the story really kicks off it doesn't stop, so there's still something to be learned from it.

George's father is a fun character. I'd never really considered his point of view before. Nor that of the chickens. I felt sorry for them. They get a bad enough deal as it is having a tiny brain, not being able to fly and being tasty when cooked.

Young children will have a blast picturing all the weird ingredients, while adults will recognise how significant events change everyone who partakes or witnesses them, even the people that don't take the medicine.

3 spoonfuls of alternative sugar out of 5

The Extra Ordinary Life of Frank Derrick, Age 81 (2014)

Author: J.B. Morrison  |  Page Count: 304

'He already had his free TV licence and bus pass.  Even though there was nothing on television and nowhere to take the bus to.'

J.B. Morrison is Jim Bob, who at one time was half of the phenomenally semi-successful music act Carter USM. I admit it was entirely due to my love for the band’s music that I checked out Frank Derrick. The clever word play in the title made me wonder prior to reading if we would see a return to the fiery satire of Jim Bob’s lyric writing style, or if it would more closely resemble the deeply poignant feelings of abandonment that 'Granny Farming in the UK' gave rise to. The text is neither; or rather it’s both but filtered through a more subtle and sensitive screen door. It's comedy with a thoughtful slant that's sweet but never artificial.

Frank of Fullwind-on-Sea is a cynical duffer with a healthy distrust of others. He's an active sort who frequents the charity shops and buys crap he doesn't need. He looks upon the curtain-twitchers in his neighbourhood with disdain, but often his vantage point is from behind his own twitching curtain. When an accident lessens Frank's independence some home-help is arranged. He resents the idea completely, fearing the worst: she'll treat him like a child; she'll steal his life savings! But Frank had been wrong about people before. Who's to say...?

Jim Bob's style is descriptive and wry. His sentences frequently take lengthy strides when a shorter, more direct approach could've conveyed the same information more succinctly. They're rambling, some might say, but I'm a rambler, too, so it wasn't a problem for me. I actually liked it; it showed that he was being honest with himself and his readers, not trying to mimic another's style. He wisely litters comedy throughout, instead of always holding back for a killer punchline.

The only thing I really disliked was the half a dozen movie spoilers. They were old movies and their inclusion was relevant to Frank's tragic situation, but that's no excuse. They were spoilers no matter how you spin it. Speaking of which, if the book was to be filmed it would most likely be an indie, suitable for the likes of HandMade Films, and in a perfect world it would star Michael Caine.

3½ mantelpiece giraffes out of 5

God Emperor of Dune (1981)

Author: Frank Herbert  |  Page Count: 454

'To those who dare ask why I behave as I do, I say: With my memories, I can do nothing else. I am not a coward and once I was human.'

-The Stolen Journals of Leto II

Book IV ventures further down unpredictable avenues, more so even than the reversal of reader expectations that was Book II. Whereas the previous volumes each had identifiable influences, actions reminiscent of classic tales (Muad'dib as Aeneas, etc), God Emperor isn't so easily relatable. It stands apart, exploring the mind of a man become a god—changed in more than just the figurative sense.

Leto II's current condition grants him an insight into the human condition that had never existed before. It also paradoxically distances him from fully empathising with the people he's closest to. Empathy is a process dependent on memory. Being Atreides means Leto has access to an almost infinite store of memories from countless lives but they're each shaped by the era in which they were formed. His only experience of a society held in the grip of a God Emperor for millennia is from the side of the ruler, not the ruled. His outlook is invaluable but one-sided.

Arrakis is changed, too. No longer just a place to train the faithful, it's the predicted centre of the universe. The Bene Gesserit, Guild, and Ixians are diminished but still around, slaves to the planet's resources, biding their time.

It's impossible to know for sure but I suspect the voice of the author is split between at least two of the main characters. With his knowledge of atavistic characteristics and myth structures Leto is, of course, one of them. Using the poetic or prosaic as the situation demands; teaching on an active level, not through repetition; forcing the listener (and reader) to apply what they know as fact and extrapolate into the equation what they think they know in order to fully understand the lesson is an idealised version of an author/teacher.

As usual, the introduction to each chapter is a commentary on more than just the individual parts, extending instead to the whole. You should also have recognised by now how Frank orchestrates situations for the sequels to follow up on. God Emperor delivers on that. It has a proper ending so you can stop the series afterwards if you want to, but there's still more to the story of Arrakis.

5 reassuring dimensions out of 5

Children of Dune (1976)

Author: Frank Herbert  |  Page Count: 426

'When you believe something is right or wrong, true or false, you believe the assumptions in the words which express the arguments. Such assumptions are often full of holes, but remain most precious to the convinced.'

-The Open-Ended Proof from The Panoplia Prophetica

More than twenty years have passed since Duke Leto Atreides of Caladan first set foot on the arid landscape of Arrakis. Much has changed in that short time. The descendants of Leto are now children of Dune.

In a manner similar to how the ducal signet ring has passed to more than one successor in that time, so too has an important part of the story's focus. While the planet is always the largest concern, it's arguably the characters that make any book worth reading, so we have the twins, now aged nine. They explore their origins while their aunt goes ever-deeper into the political and religious realm, for reasons that she keeps secret, scheming how best to make even the most desperate situation an advantageous link in the chain of practical eventualities.

Herbert's presentation of the twins is amazing. Their heritage gifts them with certain talents and knowledge that belies their age, accentuating the almost magical bond that exists between a brother and sister born from the same womb only seconds apart. Each is able to instinctually know what the other is thinking, or, at the very least, make an informed judgement call on how their sibling would respond to any given situation, to anticipate reactions and even to allow for the unknown. When confronted with a problem, familial or otherwise, they've more than one perspective to draw on. When they debate it's like one mind questioning itself, excising the incorrect assumptions to leave only the correct path. However, it's a situation filled with just as many dangers.

For a time the book is heavily-weighted towards the women. The Reverend Mother role of the old religion never really went away; like everything else it changed and adapted to fit the political climate.

Previously we had a voice from the 'outer world' bringing change. Now there's a voice from Dune itself, a figure from the planet's past known only as The Preacher, passing judgement on the present situation, on the religious beliefs of the Fremen, on the ecology and on the state of rule.

I've chosen to highlight only a small part to avoid spoilers, but there's a lot more to be discovered. For example, most of us will know how easily the mind slips into romanticising what's past after change has occurred; the effect that has on larger concerns can be immeasurable and remain unseen by the populace who are an integral part of it. Remember also that the 'Children' of the title is more than literal and can be applied in a broader sense to more than just the twins.

5 divergent motives out of 5

Dune Messiah (1969)

Author: Frank Herbert  |  Page Count: 222

'Between depriving a man of one hour from his life and depriving him of his life there exists only a difference of degree.'

-Addenda to Orders in Council, The Emperor Paul Muad'dib

The first sequel to Dune (1965) is almost half as thick as the one that came before, but that's not the only difference. When you begin reading you'll discover a significant shift in reader-sympathies. Herbert didn't lay a lengthy groundwork, because he already had the characters where he needed them to be. Instead, he jumped straight into an exploration of what happens after the war is won and the tyrant vanquished. When the new order has replaced the old, what then?

He also studies what happens when a thing is set in motion—a thing that takes on an impetus of its own and branches into other avenues. The one who set the ball rolling from a historic perspective gets blamed for every nuance, more so when the beliefs of the people who act in the name dictate that it be deified and that the religion should spread as far as possible throughout the stars.

The sects and orders that Muad'Dib subjugated were forced to publicly shuffle to their respective corners with their heads bowed, but pride demands redress, so the enemy of my enemy scenario becomes an option. Of course, when you consider that the most powerful players in that wounded collective include the likes of the Bene Gesserit and the Spacing Guild, then you have to also factor in the secret goals of each and acknowledge them in every decision made.

For Muad'Dib there's compensation for the hard choices he must make, but the balance is cruel. Being aware that the crutch of prescience his every waking hour relies upon is both what he needs and what he fears doesn't help. Life is hard.

In some ways Messiah feels like a belated epilogue to the first book set twelve years after. Likewise, the second half feels like a lengthy prelude to the third book, Children of Dune (1976). Knowing that doesn't lessen the enjoyment of a reading, but it could help prepare you for being assailed by an overpowering need to go direct to the following volume upon reaching the final page.

5 honest answers to difficult questions out of 5

Dune (1965)

Author: Frank Herbert  |  Page Count: 562 (605 inc. Appendices)

"What do you despise? By this are you truly known."

-From 'Manual of Muad’Dib' by the Princess Irulan

Frank Herbert's Dune Saga is the story of the planet Arrakis, also known as Dune, upon which is found a rare and valuable resource that every Great House in existence depends upon. Without it, interstellar trade would end. Even the Emperor of the Known Universe would be rendered mostly powerless in all but name. Whosoever controls the retrieval and distribution of that specific resource will be a formidable foe in a never-ending, far-reaching power struggle.

The first book concentrates on the rise of a reluctant messianic figure from not-quite-humble beginnings towards something he never expected to be.

The two things are connected but are each only a small part of what the novel contains. There's a staggering amount of depth beneath the surface, exploring everything from petty feuds and familial concerns to the basic needs of evolution, ecology, society, and the intersection of religion, politics and power.

Don't expect to find what’s great about Dune solely by reading the words on the page. Doing so may lead to disappointment, especially in the early stages when the descriptive language is sometimes stiff and the dialogue unnatural. No, the real treasure only reveals itself if you delve between the lines and identify the nuances and implications of the situations that Frank engineers.

He calls upon the reader to recognise what's required of them, to engage with the layers of meaning. Character responses are tailored to the person making the enquiry, dictated by the speaker's relationship to the recipient and the calculated balancing of full or limited disclosure. How they behave in different situations or in the presence of different people is itself a guide that teaches how we as readers ought to be analysing it. New ways of seeing are gradually revealed to the protagonists and we must adopt the same approach or be left behind.

It eases you into the concept slowly. The structured opening sets the base level and then builds upon it until you're second-guessing every action and wondering at more than just the moral implications of every decision. If you're able to get into that mindset then reality can get swept away; nothing exists except the book and its world. Texts are supposed to do that, but Dune consumes me, utterly.

A word of caution if you have the 40th Anniversary Edition: Frank's son Brian mentions in his afterword that he's aware for some people the book they're holding is their first experience with Dune, and yet he deems it acceptable to put in spoilers for Books II and III. If you want to avoid those, either don't read the afterword at all, or wait until after you've read Children of Dune (1976).

5 plans within plans within plans out of 5

Note: The book was adapted into a feature film and a TV miniseries, neither of which were wholly successful but deserve praise for making the attempt. You can read about the miniseries HERE on one of our sister sites, Nut Box.

Let It Snow (2008)

Authors: Maureen Johnson / John Green / Lauren Myracle  |  Page Count: 368

'It's such a disaster, whenever, in the course of human relationships, someone begins to chisel away at the wall of separation...'

A collection of three novellas, one from each of the authors mentioned above, with a different take on the theme of 'holiday romance'. The holiday, if you hadn't guessed, is Christmas. The individual stories are linked by location and certain events overlap more than once, so it's more like a novel with changing authors as opposed to a traditional anthology collection.

Appropriately, snow covered the ground on the days I read the book. The windows were closed and curtains purposefully pulled to hide it, but I knew it was there and I'd been caught in it a few times while out. It'll sound ridiculous, but I believe that being cold helped me appreciate more the situations the characters found themselves in. I'd hoped for some emotional warmth from the text to counteract the chilly settings, and in all three cases it was delivered; although the levels at which it was apparent did vary from one to the next.

It would be easy to single out a favourite, but the preference would be based on an empathetic response only and that's not a solid basis upon which to lay a criticism. None of the three stories was badly written. Each author had a clear vision that was communicated intelligently but in a slightly different way. One thing that's consistent throughout is the use of a first-person narrative, making the best of what the technique offers and skipping easily around the limitations.

I admit my instinct upon seeing the words 'holiday' and 'romance' together was urging me to snub it in favour of something more manly, but instinct was wrong on this occasion. It isn't chick-fic. It's suitable for all, or at the very least anyone who's ever been in an emotionally-challenging relationship.

If you're attracted to the collection because you're a fan of one specific author, try to resist the temptation to go directly to his/her story first. They’re arranged like they are for a reason and work better when read in that order.

3½ pigs of fate out of 5

ICO: Castle in the Mist (2008)

Author:  Miyuki Miyabe  |  Translator:  Alexander O. Smith  |  Page Count: 370

'Whatever it was that dripped from the cage, it was blacker than pitch,
the colour of melted shadow.'

The story as presented in the ICO video game (2001) was purposefully vague. It encouraged players to speculate about the backstory of the characters. The act of filling in the blanks created a more personal experience, making us not just the protagonist but also the teller, the narrator of the story as it was being lived in real time. Reading someone else's version of those events is interesting, but when put into context, isn't a published version of such simply fan-fiction sold at RRP?

Regardless of whether or not that's a fair assessment, I made sure while reading to judge the work for what it did well (or otherwise) with regards world-building, characterisation, etc, and not for being different to my own interpretation of the game's story; to have did otherwise would be a disservice to everyone involved.

I was wholly ignorant of Miyuki Miyabe's reputation in Japan. She has a huge catalogue of titles available. Castle in the Mist is her seventh novel to be translated into English. In all honesty I thought it was a first novel, period. The stiffness of the dialogue and the formulaic spoon-feeding of conventions that make the majority of fantasy novels so bland is adhered to from the very first page. The stiffness may in part be explained by it being a translation—there's a definite lack of love and flair inherent in that aspect—so I can't say with any certainty if a poetic sensibility is inherently absent from the work or just missing from the English language version. I'm not able to read Japanese.

Things pick up a little when the story delves into Yorda's past. The author is more comfortable and thus more successful exploring things from a female perspective, which makes sense, but even then the story never dares to break away from a safety zone or a trite, established way of genre thinking. It's a typical fantasy about a Princess in a castle, a cruel and overbearing guardian that stifles her, and a male saviour with selflessness and innocence in his arsenal.

Kudos to the publisher, Haikasoru, for being brave and taking a chance on it. The game didn't sell in huge numbers in the West, so I can't imagine the target audience for the novel was projected as groundbreaking, but, even so, they didn't opt for cheap paper to cut costs. It's a beautifully presented book.

1½ misshapen shades out of 5

Star Trek: The Return (1996)

Authors: William Shatner / Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens  | Page Count: 371

‘For a silent moment after, even the rain stopped.

When it began again, it felt gentle.  Warm.  Slow as tears.’

Like The Ashes of Eden (1995) did before it, The Return opens on Veridian III and continues the story of the Star Trek: Generations (1994) film.  It’s not a flashback narrative this time; it’s the real deal, an actual continuation of events.

It engineers a ridiculous scenario that brings together aspects and crew of TOS, TNG and DS9 for a ret-conning adventure that’s thick with melodrama and action movie clichés.  Some of the connections made are mind-blowing and will either have fans happy-clapping or furiously fighting.  Either way, some of the reveals in the last quarter are extremely memorable.  It’s unfortunate that a large portion of the remainder of the book is such a chore to get through.

If you're drawn to the novel because it claims that Shatner is the author, you ought to know that he admitted in a filmed interview years later that he’d not watched even a single episode of TNG.  That makes me wonder how much input he had in the writing of a story that’s primarily about the Enterprise D crew.  I'm guessing we have Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens to thank for the majority of it.  But who’s to blame for repeatedly misquoting a famous speech from ST II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)?  And it'll sound finicky but Data casually using contractions in everyday speech irks me, even when acknowledging events in 'The Offspring' episode.

It's a brave attempt at creating a novel for Trek fans who have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the franchise, but the application of that same knowledge to the behaviour of certain characters will leave many a discerning reader unhappy.

The next book in the Shatnerverse series is a direct sequel titled Avenger (1997), but I don't think I can take any more of the pulp-hero, bravado bullshit.

2½ forgotten skills out of 5

Star Trek: The Ashes of Eden (1995)

Authors: William Shatner / Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens  |  Page Count: 309

‘He gulped a mouthful of Scotch.  Felt it burn his throat—ice cold and fire hot at the same time.  That was his poetry.  Sensation.  Being alive.’

TAoE begins just a few hours after the ending of the Star Trek: Generations (1994) movie, so you’ll need to have seen it first.  But to really get the most from the book, you’ll need to have seen all the TOS movies too, because the story is one of reflection on what’s passed as well as a look to the future.  Even though it’s technically set post-Generations, ninety-nine percent of it is a flashback to an era before Kirk stepped aboard the Enterprise-B, shortly after the political upheaval that occurred at Camp Khitimer (ST VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991)).

Didn't you wonder what happened to the Enterprise-A?  Without a ship to command, Kirk is a little lost—it’s as if his very reason for living has been suspended—and daily Starfleet duties do little to assuage the feelings.  He’s secretly hungering for adventure, and more often than not someone with that goal will either find what he’s looking for or set it in motion himself.

It was co-written by Shatner, so it shouldn't come as much of a surprise to learn that Kirk is not just a man’s man within its pages, he’s the hero’s hero.  He's the lover, fighter, tactical thinker, master of combat, etc.  Parts of it do feel like an exercise in ego-stroking, but some of the conclusions made by the character parallel Shatner’s own public life, so at least he’s writing about what he knows.

Beyond that, how do you make a great man even more amazing?  Have him be humble in the presence of simplicity and beauty, but just enough to make him relatable to the common man, lest it detract from the active role he played in his own accomplishments.  Alternatively, don’t make an issue of his legendary status, and by so doing you’ll reaffirm his legendary status.  It’s win-win for Kirk, and an occasionally sickening, self-indulgent bore for the reader.

The book is the first part of what’s become known as the ‘Shatnerverse’ series of novels.  There were nine books in all, three trilogies, by the same authors.  The events in each draw from the rich Trek history but are a separate continuity as the ongoing Pocket Books series.  The next entry was called The Return (1996).

2½ game-changing rules out of 5

Scar Tissue (2004)

Author: Anthony Kiedis, Larry Sloman | Page Count: 465

"I was still high out of my mind and trying not to lose an eyeball or tuft of hair, so I started running through the halls. Jennifer chased me. For some reason, I had a bag of cookies, so I started throwing the cookies at her, to keep her far enough away that she couldn't connect with any of her punches."

Scar Tissue chronicles the life of Anthony Kiedis, lead singer of The Red Hot Chili Peppers, from his birth and childhood in Michigan to his adolescence in Southern California to the formation of the band and his trials and tribulations with fame, love, and drug addiction all the way to his sober present while living a life that was totally untethered and impulsive.

The text reads as if Keidis is telling the story right to the reader which is pretty much how it was written since it was transcribed by Sloman as it was told to him with surprising recollection and detail by Keidis. The window it opens into the world of music and fame is fascinating as well as the change in culture that would allow a prepubescent kid to skateboard around a city unmonitored just exploring and experiencing. That isn't unheard of nowadays, but parents are sometimes arrested for that lack of chaperoning. Keidis' own personal journey is a running theme throughout from his self described egomania to his much healthier and calmer "life of service" which is equally fascinating. There are also several photos presented offering a visual look into his life that are interesting. An absorbing read punctuated with some insights and peeks into the hollywood behind-the-scenes.

4 Nothing drops the panties faster than music out of 5

The Shining (1977)

Author: Stephen King |  Page Count: 512

'A shaft of light coming from another room, the bathroom, harsh white light and a word flickering on and off in the medicine cabinet mirror like a red eye, REDRUM, REDRUM, REDRUM— '

The Overlook Hotel, aptly named in more ways than one, has an attic filled with memories and a basement filled with recorded history, printed and imprinted, waiting to be rediscovered. Sandwiched between the two catalysts are the guest rooms, impersonal spaces haunted by deeds more permanent than the people that temporarily occupied them. They say every hotel has its ghosts, but the ones in the Overlook are more active than most other places.

As struggling writer Jack Torrance receives the details of his winter assignment at the Overlook, the reader gets a detailed rundown of the building, albeit from a biased perspective. It's an efficient device that also gives us our first insight into Jack's thought process. He's a quick-tempered, ex-alcoholic who's seriously lacking in paternal skills. Even when he's trying to be pleasant and caring it's hard to like him because his inner-bastard is always present, waiting for an opportunity to gain the upper hand. More often than not, if he does a good deed it's in the hope that it'll be noticed and go toward balancing out his meanness, not for any inherent sense of rightness for its own sake.

Time-bomb Jack's five-year-old son, Danny, is the most fascinating character. He wants to ease the tension that exists between his parents. He takes the weight of responsibility for their happiness onto his young shoulders and won't do anything to upset it, even if it traumatises him. He's a polar opposite to Jack's selfishness.

Danny has a level of intelligence not often found in someone his age, but what sets him apart even more from the norm is his special insight into what people are thinking. Unfortunately for the boy, the feelings he receives must share space with childhood fears and a very fertile imagination.

The conflict of the already broken family unit trying to hold together while their environment tries to tear them apart is the main focus, but there's horror elements, too, internal and externalised, that are more chilling than terrifying.

It's a long book with a lengthy build-up period. I admit I got bored more than once with some of the superfluous aspects of the many backstories, but each time was short-lived because King's fluidic prose pulled me back into the action when he returned the story to the present. Also, I'd hoped for an ending more memorable than the one given. It wasn't a letdown, but it didn't outclass what preceded it. It's one of those 'the journey is better than the destination' novels.

3½ unquiet guests out of 5

The Stepford Wives (1972)

Author: Ira Levin  |  Page Count: 139

“It’s not a town where reactions can develop to anything.  There’s no place where people really intersect, except the Men’s Association.”

Joanna Eberhart is a wife and mother; she’s a photographer, an observer of life; and she’s a feminist. When she moves with her husband and two children to the seemingly utopian town of Stepford, the male-centric activities of the Men’s Association really get her goat. What’s worse is that the women, the other wives, are like picture book clichés, prime candidates for the Cult of Domesticity annual calendar, with perfect smiles and perfect tits. Joanna tries to initiate change but meets opposition; she then decides to make everyone else's business her own.

I didn't much like The Stepford Wives.  I found it tedious and lacking drive.  It didn't get even vaguely interesting until after page 100, and there are only 139 pages in the entire book.  But it wasn't badly written.  It wasn't wasteful.  It was just dull.

It works perfectly as a satire of deeper concerns, a focus upon which was much more politically stirring in the 70s when it was written, but as an enjoyable novel not so much. The term ‘Stepford Wife’ has entered the vernacular of popular culture, so I'm going to assume most of you will be able to garner what those concerns are. That knowledge may have been part of my problem: knowing in advance what the big twist was left me with nothing to get excited about.

Joanna and Walter exist separately most of the time, so we never really get an in-depth view of how loving their relationship is or isn't. He supports her, they sleep together and they appear to share some beliefs, but there was no evidence of love or even desire for each other in their daily lives. They were flat, lifeless characters, which left me indifferent to their individual plights.

I'm one of those people whose inner-voice emphasises italics whilst reading because that’s what they’re there to denote, an emphasis, but they were so abundant that doing so got to be a real pain. If you do the same thing with this sentence, you’ll understand perhaps what I mean when I say italics should be used in moderation. Now, wasn't that a pain in the ass?!

I acknowledge that it’s achieved ‘classic’ status, but there’s no right or wrong where subjectivity is concerned, and we don’t all like the same things.

2½ notes on newcomers out of 5

The Night Watch (1998)

Author: Sergei Lukyanenko  |  Translator: Andrew Bromfield  |  Page Count: 489

'Many years ago someone told me something that I flatly refused to accept.  And I still don't accept it now, despite all the times I've seen it proved right.'

Night Watch are the good guys; up to a point.  They have their own agenda, like any organisation, but on a day-to-day basis they’re responsible for policing the actions of their opposites, the Dark Others.  The Dark ones draw their power from the negative feelings of mankind; some even feed on mankind itself, but that requires special dispensation.  Balance is all important.  If the evil should outweigh the good, the world is screwed.  If the good should outweigh the evil, the world is screwed from the other side.  But knowing that doesn't stop either side from trying to achieve dominance.  Among the casualties will be us, the humans.

Both the Light and Dark Others, irrespective of rank, have access to a deeper level of reality known as the Twilight, a place that exists beneath the fragile top skin of our own world.  The Twilight has many uses but equally as many dangers.  It's not a place for sparkly vampires who like to sniff girls.

Much like the Twilight, the events in the novel take place on a number of layers: there’s the familiar world we know; the unfamiliar world of the Watches; and the fantastical world that we can imagine exists all around us, separate from but wholly dependent on the other two for its contrasts and sense of magical realism.

Anton Gorodetsky exists in all three of those worlds; he's our guide.  Anton is a Light Other, relatively new to field work.  He patrols the night, hoping to catch the Dark ones doing something they ought not be doing so that he, and his organisation by extension, can gain an advantage in the inevitable war.  He knows that even little things, if left unchecked, can develop into catastrophic things.

The urge to read faster almost overwhelmed me as I neared the end of the novel, as the layering increased even more, but I knew I had to keep pace or risk overlooking something crucial.  Only the best stories have that quality.

4½ divergences in the probability field out of 5