A couple of years ago, a movie called The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen came out, based on a series of comics by the same name. I had high hopes, because it was described as a kind of Justice League with literary characters instead of superheroes: Dr. Jekyll, Captain Nemo, the Invisible Man, Tom Sawyer, Mina Harker and more. I still think it's a fascinating idea and the movie was definitely fun, but it was also a bit of a disappointment. Several characters were very inaccurate, the worst of which I'd have to say was portraying Mina Harker as a vampire, when the entire point of Stoker's Dracula was to prevent that very occurrence.
But anyway, one thing that piqued my interest was that the pseudo-main character (at least in the movie) was a character I'd never even heard of: Allan Quartermain. How could this be? A literary hero of enough fame to stand beside Nemo and Jekyll, and yet I'd never heard of him? Turns out he's the hero of several works by H. Rider Haggard, the first of which was King Solomon's Mines. So, when the chance came to read it, I jumped. Maybe it was a wonderful story, fallen from popularity and fame, but ripe for rediscovery!
Overview
So, it turned out to be not so much ripe as starting to spoil. A fun adventure story, but rife with melodrama and uncomfortable racial issues. I can see why it was ridiculously popular and groundbreaking, but I wouldn't say worthy of resurrection. According to Wikipedia, it was the founding novel of the 'Lost World' genre, and inspired works such as Edgar Rice Burrough's The Land that Time Forgot, Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World, and Rudyard Kipling's The Man Who Would Be King. I haven't read any of these later lost world books, but considering the authors, they might be worth checking out. I wonder if Journey to the Center of the Earth would also fit the bill? Probably.
Anyway, the plot of Mines is that the wealthy Sir Henry has discovered that his younger brother ran off on a wild goose chase after the legendary diamond mines of King Solomon, and hasn't been seen since. He enlists the help of one Allan Quartermain, a skilled hunter, wise in the ways of Africa, and our narrator, to bring him back. As luck would have it, Quartermain happens to have some secret information about a possible route to the mines, and although he is fairly certain that none of them will make it back alive, agrees to join Sir Henry's expedition. After a long and deadly journey, they make it to a land of paradise, home to . . . a lost civilization, what else? And then even more adventure happens.
Recommended for: Boys and tomboys between the ages of maybe 8 - 13 (I'm usually not that specific, but there's a fairly narrow range between being old enough to handle the violence but not old enough to mind the painfully written melodrama)
Audiobook Comments: Read by John Richmond who does a pretty good job. The part I found amusing is that although the LoEG movie had Sean Connery play Quartermain, it's actually Sir Henry that sounds like Connery's rough British adventurer, while Quartermain has a much more polished, polite sound.
Parental Worries: There's a fair amount of violence, but not above PG13 level. There's also a pair of mountains called 'Sheba's Breasts', if you have a problem with anatomical geography.
Ramblings
I guess this is the part where I discuss the racial issues I mentioned earlier. It's mostly an effect of the times--this was one of the first novels set in colonial Africa and shows the mindset of Victorian England towards the natives. In its favor, it was probably actually fairly revolutionary for the time--Quartermain in particular has a very high regard for Africans. He talks about having met several natives more deserving of the title 'gentleman' than many of his fellow Englishmen, and several of the book's characters illustrate this. On the other hand, the
English characters do not hesitate to assume the guise of visiting gods when they reach their lost civilzation, and there's a whole string of natives willing to nobly sacrifice themselves for the Englishmen. I don't consider myself to be very sensitive towards racial issues, but even I found it to be somewhat stomach-turning. (although I couldn't say how much was due to the melodrama and how much was the condesension) So, all in all, Mines was a fun trip back in time if you don't take it with any kind of seriousness, but not a timeless classic by any stretch of the imagination.
With the exception of scifi, short stories are a genre I haven't ventured very far into, and this book reminded me why I've always preferred that variety. (Well, not including Twain's short stories, they're a whole new class of awesome) There's something so tantalizing about scifi short stories; they present myriads of possibilities and scenarios, without getting bogged down by too much plot and character development. Not that there's anything wrong with plot and character development, I'm a big fan, but sometimes the concept is the best part of scifi--just enough to tickle the imagination.
Overview
Across the Sea of Stars is an omnibus of three collections of short stories and two short novels: Childhood's End, and Earthlight. This review will only cover the short stories, partially because the recording I found didn't include the novels for some reason, and partially because Childhood's End is one of Clarke's masterpieces--it deserves a review all its own if I re-read it.
(Disclaimer: it's been a few weeks since I read Sea, so I used a cheat sheet :-p It's a good overview of all the stories, with a brief summary of each. I don't plan to go over each and every story here, mostly because it's already been done.)
The three collections of short stories are only distinguishable because the middle one, Tales from the White Hart, take the form of pub stories--still scifi, but slightly more grounded. (Not necessarily that they are less far fetched, but that there are no spaceships or aliens involved) The other two collections, Expedition to Earth and Reach for Tomorrow aren't really distinguishable except that Reach for Tomorrow has somewhat longer stories.
Recommended for: Scifi and short story fans
Parental Worries: None that I can remember.
Audiobook Comments: Read by Dan Lazar (I think). It's an old recording, from back when audiobooks were a relatively new format, and his reading isn't particularly impressive. It's not bad enough to detract from the book, however, but even if the reader had been wonderful, I wouldn't recommend this book on audio. Audiobooks don't work very well for these stories; it's better to read them one at a time and digest each before moving on to the next. That's possible on audio, but not the rhythm I prefer.
Ramblings
As I mentioned before, I wasn't particularly impressed by the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, although I loved the book. I'm similarly unimpressed by the short story "The Sentinel", which was the original 'teaser' for the movie and book, and the first story in this collection. Maybe I was prejudiced going in, maybe the idea was less fantastic since it's become culturally ingrained, or maybe it's just that nothing happens in the story. Riding around on the moon, find an obviously unnatural structure, oh no we're not the only ones out there. Luckily, this story is probably the weakest of the collection, so you only go up from there.
One of the things I particularly love about Clarke is that unlike Asimov, who scorned anything spiritual and created future worlds where religion had been completely abandoned, Clarke's stories do not neglect the human spirit, or rather, human spirituality. He himself was an atheist and expressly ordered that no religious representation or rituals would appear at his funeral, but he obviously recognized that there was more in the universe than could necessarily be explained by science. (Well, that might not be the way he'd put it, but close enough) For example, his story "Inheritance" involves a nicely ironic incidence of prophetic dreams, and "The Nine Billion Names of God" (not in this collection, but one of his best stories) portrays a pair of scornful religious skeptics as blind fools. It's not just the supernatural either. The story "If I Forget Thee, Oh Earth" brought me to tears, and two others in the collection involved advanced technology leading to defeat instead of victory. It's this emphasis on hope, on human ingenuity and tenacity that speaks more deeply to me than Asimov's calculating psychohistory and galactic empires. (Not that I didn't thoroughly enjoy the Foundation series, but his scorn of religion and spirituality really gets under my skin sometimes)
As I saw with Fall of Moondust, Clarke's stories set in the near-future are less effective and enduring than those set in the far future (or occasionally, far past :-p ). That's no fault of Clarke's, no man can perfectly predict the courses that technology and science can take in the next hundred years. Happily, only about four of the stories in this collection are of that variety, and even they have a charm of their own, a kind of naivete. The risk is highest in the Tales from the White Hart, because they stand as stories told in a pub that could have existed anywhere within the last hundred years and (hopefully) the next hundred. Surprisingly, therefore, only one of them is anachronistic; it involves a special effects artist on the run from Hollywood because in the race to make more and more impressive fake weapons, he accidentally made one that was less fake than it should have been. These days, luckily, everything is added in with computers and we don't have to worry about accidentally creating a cold fusion reactor in an attempt to make pretty lights. ^_~
Labels: scifi, short stories
I guess it’s about time I started reviewing Terry Pratchett books on here, least any Discworld fans lured in by the blog’s title accuse me of false advertising. Not that I need an excuse to re-read any of them for the fifth or six time, I’d do it eventually anyway ^_^
For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett is a series of fantasy comedy/satire--Douglas Adams meets Tolkien, Mark Twain with a more whimsical twist, Monty Python in novel form. They're not only hilarious and fun, but full of little truths and big truths that make you stop and think.
Discworld books tend to follow several different sets of characters; the most closely followed are the wizarding faculty of Unseen University, a trio of witches in the small mountain kingdom of Lancre, and the city watch of Ankh-Morpork, Discworld's largest city. Several minor sets of characters also feature in multiple books, and a few books stand alone, with no more than cameo appearances by the more well-known faces. It's basically huge jumbled mess, and that's part of the charm.
Guards! Guards! is the first book in the Watch sequence, and a very good place to start if you're new to Discworld. (I would, in fact, not recommend starting with the earliest published books: The Color of Magic, The Light Fantastic, and Equal Rites. They're still very good books, but not Pratchett's best, and Discworld's fractured character lines mean that you aren't missing anything)
Overview
It's very hard to summarize a Discworld book; the bits I really want to talk about aren't necessarily related to the main plot. That's because plot is only a small measure of what a Discworld book is actually about. The plot of Guards! Guards! is that a giant dragon is terrorizing the city, and since the ruling tyrant has no daughter or half-kingdom to offer as a reward for killing it, it's up to Ankh-Morpork's Night Watch to save the day. Unfortunately, Ankh-Morpork's Finest are a pack of dysfunctional misfits, and that's also what it's about: underdogs, whether they be down-on-their-luck policemen or evolutionarily challenged swamp dragons (smaller cousins of the one terrorizing the city). And to top it all off, Pratchett manages to fit in a general grab bag of satire and irony along the way. (kings and magical swords, proper dungeon upkeep, and the mysterious workings of statistics all come to mind)
Recommended for: Anyone and everyone.
Parental worries: The books are written for an adult audience, so there might be a few jokes that fly over younglings' heads, but there's not much to actually educate in those areas. (okay, make that a lot of jokes, including a city Guild of Seamstresses who aren't very good with needlework, if you know what I mean) Also some mild language, if memory serves me correctly.
Audiobook comments: Read by Nigel Planer, who does a truly wonderful job. The colorful characters of Discworld require some real vocal acrobatics, and he's spot on for all of them.
Ramblings (Spoiler Threat: Low)
The Watch is my favorite set of Discworld characters, so here's a quick run-down on them:
First of all, there's Captain Sam Vimes, who we first come across lying drunk in a gutter, mumbling about his love/hate relationship with the city. Vimes develops into one of the coolest, most bad-ass characters in Discworld and probably all fiction, so don't let this unpreposessing introduction fool you. He's a copper's copper, with a scorching disdain for the upper classes and no illusions about the lower ones.
Next up is Carrot Ironfoundersson, who was informed by his parents at the tender age of 18ish (and height of 6 feet) that he was not, as he had always assumed, a dwarf. Turns out he's a human who had been adopted by dwarves and raised in a mine. The fact that he had to be informed of this tells you quite a bit about Carrot. His family decides that he needs to be near his own kind, so they arrange for him to join the Ankh-Morpork Night Watch. Before he leaves, however, his father gives him a sword that was found not too far from the spot where they'd discovered the infant Carrot. So, we've got a young man, born in mysterious circumstances, heading off to the big city to seek his fortune, carrying an ancient sword. Oh, and he has a birthmark shaped like a crown. I'll let you do the math.
Next up in the ranks is Sergeant Fred Colon, who is "one of nature's sergeants". Fred is the Watch's Everyman, in a way that Vimes and (especially) Carrot fall a bit short of. He's also great comic relief, particularly when paired up with Nobby Nobbs.
Years ago, Corporal Nobbs was Ankh-Morpork's Artful Dodger, but now he's all grown up and learned that he can get away with multiple minor malfeaseances much easier from the enforcement side of things. He's still a cheeky, lovable urchin on many levels, but it's slightly less cute from an adult. And by slightly less cute, I mean that Nobby is the only person in Ankh-Morpork with a certificate signed by the Patrician affirming that he is indeed a member of the human race. Otherwise, there might be (and still is, occasionally) some confusion.
One of the coolest things about the Discworld books is that at some point, all the humor and slapstick fall away, and what you're left with is a wonderful story, with a beautifully cinematic climax. That's what sets Discworld above and beyond Douglas Adams, Monte Python and the rest of the comedy and satire world. Pratchett not only knows how to make us laugh, he's also mastered true narrative--he can make us feel, and make us think.
And here's the part where I get to put in some of my favorite quotes from the book ^_^ Have fun!
"People who are rather more than six feet tall and nearly as broad across the shoulders often have uneventful journeys. People jump out at them from behind rocks then say things like, "Oh.Sorry. I thought you were someone else." --Carrot's voyage to Ankh-Morpork
"It's a metaphor of human bloody existence, a dragon. And if that wasn't bad enough, it's also a bloody great hot flying thing."--Vimes
"Never trust a ruler who puts his faith in tunnels and bunkers and escape routes. The chances are that his heart isn't in the job."--Vetinari (Patrician of Ankh-Morpork)
"There was a thoughtful pause in the conversation as the assembled Brethren mentally divided the universe into the deserving and the undeserving, and put themselves on the appropriate side."-- The Elucidated Brethren see the light
After finishing Heaven's Net is Wide, I couldn't wait to get started on the next book in the series. I was in for a bit of a shock, however. While Heaven's Net left me with a warm fuzzy feeling of hope and a foreshadowing of vindication and justice delivered, Nightingale left me absolutely furious with a bad taste in my mouth. Most of my rage came from betrayal that 80% of the promised justice and vindication never showed up, and the bad taste came from the 20% that did. Don't get me wrong, Nightingale is still a good book. (the fact that I became so emotionally involved is a testament to the author's skill) I'll finish the series eventually, but my enthusiasm is significantly dimmed.
Another difference between the two is that unlike the first book, which is told in third person from various points of view, this one is alternately in first person and third person. The main character Takeo is the only one who has the privilege of narrating for himself, anyone else whose viewpoint is required for the story has to make do with third person. It's an unusual structure, but it works.
Note: For an intro to this series, read the first half of my Heaven's Net is Wide review
Overview
The book opens with a description of Tomasu's childhood in the village of the Hidden (a Christian sect). It's an idyllic life, although the young Tomasu is slightly restless, with the age old 'I'm-bigger-than-this-town' syndrome. As we find out later, Tomasu’s case is justified—he is descended from a secretive race known only as the Tribe, who possess semi-magical powers. This is quickly and brutally cured when the evil warlord Iida Sadamu, who has a particular vendetta against the Hidden, shows up and murders everyone he can get his hands on. Fortunately, he can't get his hands on Tomasu, who flees the villiage with soldiers close on his heels. This is the point where the first book ended, and the fleeing boy meets Otori Shigeru, who saves him from the soldiers, takes him under his wing, and renames him ‘Takeo’ to hide his Hidden origins. The story continues with Takeo’s adoption into the Otori clan, the development of his Tribe skills, and his training in the arts of the warrior and the assassin. (or samurai and ninja, if you prefer the Japanese names, although they are very pointedly avoided in the book) As time goes on, Takeo realizes that his encounter with Shigeru was no accident, and that he had specifically been chosen and trained to be the assassin of Iida Sadamu: the most evil, powerful, and paranoid man in the Three Countries.
Recommended for: Anyone who’s read the first book, or fans of fantasy and anime
Parental worries: Not for the kiddies: sex, violence, attempted rape, all that jazz. (and some hints at bisexuality, if that bugs you)
Audiobook Comments: Read by Kevin Gray and Aiko Nakasone, not the same readers as Heaven’s Net, but still the same format: male narrator for male POV and vice versa. The names of people and places are also pronounced slightly different for these two readers, with more accurate Japanese accents.
Ramblings (Spoiler Threat: Low)
I'm trying to decide whether my decision to read the prequel before the original was a good one, and I'm leaning toward yes, because there is so much in Nightingale that would have really come out of left field without the backstory from Heaven's Net. I guess I lost the joy of discovering the world of the Otori at the same time as Takeo, but it was as much fun (if not more) to watch him discover what was already familiar to me. Also, Shigeru is a very enigmatic character in Nightingale; I probably would have become completely fed up and slightly disgusted with him if I hadn't known his history. (i.e, why he was willing to adopt a stranger for the express purpose of training him as an assassin--shaping and forging the boy as a weapon against some random bad guy) I’ve also thumbed through some of the Amazon reviews for Nightingale, and it sounds like the lack of explanation ranks pretty high as a complaint among the bad reviews.
On the other hand, reading the prequel first meant that my focus was off--since the first book involved Shigeru suffering horrific tragedy and insult at the hands of Sadamu and his uncles, all I really wanted was to see was Shigeru claim his revenge against them all and take his place as the rightful ruler of the Otori. That's what I felt was promised throughout the first book and most of the second. That is not at all what happened. While the ensuing disappointment would only be enough to whet the interest and compassion of someone not acquainted with Heaven's Net, to me it was a complete and utter failure of the whole affair. Never mind that in the wider scheme of things, Takeo is the center and Shigeru's tragedy is only meant to give Takeo's life direction, to spur him on to a greater destiny. I think that’s a failure in the story arrangement: if you haven’t read the (admittedly very good) backstory, then you don’t understand enough, but if you have read the backstory you get hung out to dry.
The second largest problem I have with this series so far is that Hearn simply cannot write romance. When she tries, the result is either creepy (for the pairings that aren’t your ‘made in heaven, lasting for all eternity’ variety) or painfully clichéd and overdone (the love at first sight, ‘we must have been lovers in other lives’ variety). I can understand that the plot doesn’t leave too much room for romance, but there’s got to be a better way of fitting it in.
Extra Rant (Spoiler threat: Very High)
That's right, this rant gets a section all to itself (for easy skipping, ‘cause it probably won’t make sense unless you’ve actually read the book):
Screw Muto Kenji and the horse he rode in on! It's not enough that the Tribe killed Takeo's real father, Kenji had to be the star player in the death of Takeo's adopted father as well. I cannot remember the last time I was this pissed off at a character, and it's kind of sad that I can get so angry at someone who doesn't exist. It's not that he's an evil character, that's the problem. If he was a traditionally evil character, with no knowledge or care of right and wrong, then his betrayal would be more understandable. But Kenji has a fair amount of good in him--we can see it in his affection for Shigeru, Takeo and various members of his family. The problem is that he's so dedicated to his #$%@#! Tribe that he's willing to throw away every last one of them for its benefit. Not a noble sacrifice, bravely endured for the greater good, but the betrayal of trust and friendship simply because the Tribe wanted to keep a monster in power (more money for them). And then he has the gall, the gall to ask Shigeru for forgiveness. Shigeru, who had been stripped of his rank, labeled a traitor and crucified on the castle walls. And the thing is, Shigeru might have given it to him, if not for the fact that Kenji's betrayal had also resulted in the death of Lady Maruyama and her unborn child. It doesn't really matter that it was Sadamu's hand behind all the killings, at that point Sadamu had become a force of nature—doing the most harm, the most evil, wherever he could. And Kenji knowingly unleashed that force onto the only man he had ever considered a friend. I can think of no fate horrible enough for such a man.
Labels: fantasy, Tales of the Otori
When I first discovered that the sequel to The Princess and the Goblin was called The Princess and Curdie, I half-hoped that it would take place at least 5 years after the first book and involve a romance between the title characters. I was disappointed, however, when the first chapter of P&C placed it only a year after P&G. Oh well, I should have known better :-p In retrospect, it's hard to imagine MacDonald switching genres on this set of characters, especially since the theme of childhood is so important to both stories.
Overview
The title of this story is slightly ambiguous, because there are actually two princesses involved--the young princess Irene who left for her father's court at the end of the last book, and her great-great grandmother, also named Irene, who is fondly referred to as "the old Princess" by Curdie and his family. For at least the first half of the book, it seems that the old princess is actually the title character, for Irene the younger does not make her appearance for quite awhile. The first half of the story focuses on Curdie, who has settled down to life as a miner after turning down the King's offer to join him at court in the first book. The old Princess, however, has other plans. She sends Curdie off on a mysterious quest, with one of the goblins' monster-animals for company. This strange beast, named Lina, at first disgusts Curdie, but eventually manages to earn his love and loyalty.
Upon reaching the capital of the kingdom, Curdie discovers that the inhabitants of the city are not only unwelcoming, but dishonest and outright hostile. After a little more digging, he finds that the King is suffering from a mysterious illness, and the country is completely under the control of his cabinet, all of whom are less than savory characters. Curdie joins forces with the young Princess Irene, and with a little help from Lina and the old Princess, they save the day.
Recommended for: Anyone who liked the first book.
Parental Worries: Still a children's book, but P&C is a little darker than the first one. Some of the judgements handed out to evildoers are a bit harsh, and the sheer number of bad characters is a somewhat depressing.
Audiobook Comments: Read by Ian Whitcomb, who also read P&G. Its nice to have all the old voices back, it's really weird when they switch between books.
Ramblings
Overall, I'd say this book isn't as good as its predecessor, but still very good. The darkness that sets it apart from the first book is not quite the same as the darkness that slowly grows with, say, each Harry Potter book. There's almost two different conflicts--one between Curdie and the King's evil ministers, and one between the King and his people. The first half of the story belongs to Curdie, and it is excellent, possibly even better than the first book, both in terms of adventure and in its allegorical messages.
However, once the kingdom is reached and the king is returned to his rightful position, things get strange. I can appreciate on one level that the people without their king symbolize the people who have turned away from God, but on another level it's not only depressing but downright insulting to the people to suggest that one year without a good, strong human ruler is enough to turn every one of them into little better than beasts. Of course, we have no idea what they were like when the king was in control, but the assumption is that the good king would not have allowed such bad behavior in his subjects. This conflict between the king and his people reaches the point where they welcome an invading power into the land, and when the king marches to battle with a ridiculously small force, the people actually fight on the side of the invader! Well, obviously the good guys win, and the traitors are either wounded or killed. Again, we get the two levels of meaning here: there's the allegory of a people turning against their God and the necessity of a harsh rebuke to save them from an even worse fate, but in a political, worldly view, the thought of a good king taking arms against his evil subjects and vice versa is just . . . wrong. And then to top it all off, the story only has a temporarily happy ending. The ultimate ending, in an attempt to explain why the kingdom does not appear in history, is completely bleak, with no last note of hope. Definetly a case of allegory gone wrong.
Labels: children, fairytales, fantasy
Most fantasy novels are deeply entrenched in western culture; if they have oriental elements it's usually a transplant to introduce something new, exciting and/or mysterious. These transplants are more than likely half-assed and never manage to do real justice to eastern traditions or history. In much the same way, most anime and manga that take place in a western setting are similarly inauthentic. Its like putting my blonde and blue-eyed self in a kimono, or a Japanese lady in an Elizabethan gown--the juxtaposition is interesting and a refreshing change, but nobody's fooled.
With these thoughts in mind, I was pleasantly surprised to stumble across a fantasy series called "Tales of the Otori" which takes place in feudal Japan. (well, not really Japan in the same way that most fantasy novels aren't technically in England or Europe, but you get the idea) The author is a westerner (Hearn was born in Britain and currently lives in Australia) but she's studied Japanese history and culture extensively, and it shows in her writing. Heaven's Net is Wide is a wonderful read, not just because of its story and characters, but also because of the beauty of their world, which Hearn describes in loving and convincing detail.
Overview (Spoiler Threat: Low)
Heaven's Net is Wide is the prequel to the series, (the first book, Across the Nightingale Floor, was published five years earlier in 2002) so I might be missing a few important points in reading it first, but I've always preferred to read books by their own chronological order when possible, not necessarily by their date of publication.
The book opens with a murder: Kikuta Isamu, who had abandoned his old life as an assassin to start anew, is found by his cousin, Kikuta Kotaro, and knows that his life is at an end. However, he has taken a vow to never kill again, and can only lead his assassin as far as possible from his village, young wife and unborn son before calmly accepting death. This opening chapter introduces us to two of the three driving forces of the series. The first is the mysterious Tribe, the group of assassins and spies that Isamu had tried to leave behind. No Japanese adventure tale is complete without ninjas, and although the term is never used, that's the Tribe in a nutshell. The second group, only hinted at here but expanded upon later in the book, is the Tribe's antithesis--the Hidden, a Christian cult whose members practice their religion in secret. This was a big hook for me, not only because I have a fondness for my own creed but also because of the historical basis behind this apparently artificial insertion. The first Westerners to reach Japan brought along Catholic missionaries, and the new faith first flourished then survived, even in the face of heavy persecution after Japan secluded itself from the West.
After this enigmatic (although extremely important) opening chapter, the book follows the life of Otori Shigeru, heir to the ancient and powerful Otori clan (driving force #3). Shigeru starts out as a 12 year old boy and we watch as he is fostered and forged into a tragic hero of epic proportions (although significantly more likable than most other tragic heroes I can think of). The title 'tragic hero' may be a bit of a spoiler, but this is the prequel, after all--it's obvious that Shigeru will be a powerful driving force in the later series, but he is not the main character. Quite a bit of the book is also spent filling out the political and cultural background of the land, setting the stage (or rather, filling in the background) for later developments. The book ends with Shigeru finding and adopting Isamu's son, now a boy of 16. The boy, originally named Tomasu and renamed Takeo, is obviously the true star of the series--tied to all three groups: Hidden, Otori and Tribe. Poor kid. And here's the danger of reading the books in the wrong order ^_^ Now I'm more emotionally invested in a secondary character, and we'll have to see if Takeo can earn his rightful place.
Recommended for: Fantasy and anime fans
Parental Worries: Lots of sex. Nothing too explicit, but there's no shyness about the topic, and it's quite central to the plot.
Audiobook comments: Read by J. Paul Boehmer and Julia Fletcher, depending on whether a woman or man is narrating a particular chapter. It's a nice effect.
Ramblings (Spoiler Threat: High)
For all the high points of this book, its got definite issues as well. I started out with the assumption that Lian Hearn was a man, and only recently discovered that I was wrong. This assumption was strengthened as I read because I thought that only a man could write female characters and romance as abysmally as they were handled in this book. For example, our first major female character is a courtesan named Akane. She's not a courtesan when we first meet her, she's an anonymous girl who helps Shigeru save his brother from drowning and then haunts his adolescent dreams for years. Oooo, a mysterious beauty, very nice. What really gets me though, is how Akane falls into her line of work. She's the daughter of an eccentric but extremely talented mason, and his reputation combined with her own 'independent spirit' mean that none of the women in the village want her to marry their sons. The mothers don't like her, so she'll have to be a prostitute. That's how it's presented in the book, just a matter of fact cause and effect. I had to stop for a minute at that. Really? Is this society so restrictive and structured that there's no other way? She can't find a man who doesn't have a mother, or isn't completely under her control? She can't learn a trade of some kind, become a healer, work as a servant, anything? She's a beautiful, intelligent, resourceful woman, and the first alternative she turns to is prostitution? Please.
To be fair, the type of prostitution she comes to practice falls under the geisha tradition, and because she selects a well-run house, her virginity is guarded longer and more jealously than any other girls of the time could expect (there's a large price tag on it, after all). Even so, the setup of Akane as a 'happy prostitute' turned my stomach. And it gets worse from there. She eventually becomes exclusively Shigeru's mistress, and because both of them have for different reasons sworn to never fall in love, there is much silly going-on about how they are 'so dangerously close to the edge' (of falling in love, which is obviously a horrible fate). Bah. She becomes obsessively jealous of Shigeru's wife (from an arranged marriage) and does her best to poison the marriage and any chance Shigeru has of producing a legitimate heir. Circumstances being what they were, I can't really blame her for that, but there's this looming sense of doom that begins to emanate from Akane. I couldn't help but think that she was going to innocently and stupidly destroy everything Shigeru stood for, and by the time she dies in the throes of madness, all I could do was breathe a sigh of relief that her course of destruction had come to an end.
Shigeru's wife Moe turns out to be Akane's polar opposite, and although I never really got the sense of oncoming doom from her that I did from Akane, she's still a very poisonous character. Like Akane, she's trapped by circumstances, and like Akane, she makes them even worse, to the point where her death is a relief to the reader.
Now, to be fair I think the first two female characters are meant to be awful, but even Shigeru's main love interest isn't particularly impressive, imho. She's supposed to be this powerful ruler in her own right, strong and independent. Predictably, therefore, she goes completely goey when the hero shows up. That's all well and good, but in the meantime we never actually see her political prowess and independent spirit at work, we just have to take everyone's word for it. We do see quite a bit of her strength as a woman; she's really remarkable just for that, but since her character is sold so strongly as transcending the traditional role of a woman, it would have been nice to see more than one side of her. Oh well :-p Maybe I'm a bit too hard on Lady Maruyama.
This is not to say that all the female characters in the book are horrible. There's several minor characters that I have no objection to (mostly because, as minor characters, there's not enough for me to object to :-p ) But there's also Muto Shizuka, a woman of the Tribe who eventually realizes the depths they are willing to sink to, and transfers her loyalty to Shigeru. Shizuka is an interesting character, walking a tightrope of loyalties and deception without coming off as fake or insincere in any of them. It'll be interesting to see what happens to her.
There's probably a few more things I could ramble about, I haven't given nearly enough time or attention to Shigeru himself, for one thing, but this post is getting really long. Suffice it to say that Heaven's Net is Wide is an interesting, delightful book, and I'm looking forward to the rest of the series.
Labels: fantasy, Tales of the Otori
I'm really, really surprised that I made it through childhood without reading this book. I'm a complete sucker for fairy tales and fantasy--growing up I read just about anything that promised royalty, brave young peasant kids, dragons, magic, et. cetera. This book may lack dragons, but goblins and assorted beasties come in a close second. So where was it? I haunted the children's fantasy sections of at least six different libraries while I was growing up, and I am stymied that not only this wonderful tale but all of George MacDonald's books managed to fall through the cracks. MacDonald needs to find a publisher that will actually deliver his stories to their intended audience; being dead for over a hundred years is no excuse.
Overview
The Princess and the Goblin is a beautiful story, full of adventure and magic. It's easy to see that MacDonald's work heavily influenced Lewis as he was writing the Narnia series; the themes of faith and charity are as central to P&G as the more traditional fairy tale virtues of courage, honor and duty. (charity here refers to the Christian virtue, not necessarily almsgiving) It can be bit preachy at times, but that's a side effect of the target age group.
The plot follows the adventures of the eight year old Princess Irene, who is being raised in the country away from her father's court, and Curdie, a young boy from the local mining town. Curdie discovers that the goblins who inhabit his mine are hatching a devious plot of some kind or other, and makes it his business to find them out and stop them. Meanwhile, Princess Irene discovers a beautiful lady living in the most remote and abandoned rooms of the manor, a lady who claims to be her great-great grandmother and cannot be seen by anyone else.
Recommended for: Anyone, but especially kids and fans of C.S. Lewis. (I'd also recommend At the Back of the North Wind and The Light Princess, two more of MacDonald's books)
Parental Worries: I'm only including this line to preserve format between posts :-p Nothing but a mild battle or two, if you're worried about violence (I don't usually bother commenting on violence unless it's particularly graphic, but I've got to have something here ^_~ )
Audiobook Comments: Read by Ian Whitcomb, who does a good job, but not particularly amazing.
Ramblings
I never would have heard of George MacDonald if he hadn't been highly praised multiple times in Lewis' works. When Lewis' alter ego arrives at Heaven in The Great Divorce, he is met by the shade of MacDonald, much as Dante is met by Virgil in his Divine Comedy. In particular, MacDonald's book Phantastes was supposedly very influential in Lewis' conversion from atheism to Christianity. Knowing this, I was very excited to finally get my hands on it. Probably too excited, 'cause after reading it I was rather underwhelmed. Its a good book, but I get the feeling that I was too quick to read through and missed an important message or subtle plot point somewhere. Definitely worth a reread though.
Anyway, this post isn't about Phantastes :-p The point of that little sideline was that although it was slightly disappointing, the rest of MacDonald's books have more than made up for it. I can see why he captured the minds and hearts of not only C.S. Lewis, but also Tolkien, Lewis Carrol, and even Mark Twain.
The character of the great-great grandmother in P&G is very similar to the North Wind in At The Back of the North Wind, and it's interesting that MacDonald uses female characters for his divine figures, unlike Lewis and Tolkien. It might have something to do with the characters being young children, although the female figures are not surrogate mothers; both Curdie and Diamond from North Wind have wonderful mothers. It's merely that these figures are primarily nurturing and protective; the terrible power that is so central to Aslan and Gandalf is only briefly hinted at.
I also like the characterization and treatment of the goblins. There is not a particularly strong condemnation of them in the introduction of the story, they are described as resentful of the 'Sun people' and not unwilling to do harm or mischief where the chance presents itself. Its their actions throughout the book that are damning, as we see that their physical deformities are only a shadow of their twisted morality. The treatment they receive from Curdie is also interesting. For the majority of the book, the only weapons he uses against them are rhyme and song, which they cannot stand, and an occasional stomp on their tender feet. This gave me a sense that any battles and confrontations would be 'soft', the kind where the hero never really dirties his hands with any great violence. However, when the goblins' plot finally takes form and Curdie is no longer the only one in danger, he switches from rhyme to his deadly mining tools with nary a qualm. I'm not impressed by this because it shows callousness, but because it shows decisiveness. There's no moral quandry about whether the poor goblins don't know what they're doing, and whether Curdie's being to harsh on them. The lack of gray area is refreshing. It also shows (without any self-righteous back-patting) that although Curdie had the power to do serious harm all along, it never entered his head to use more force than was absolutely necessary.
I'd better stop before I try to outline any of the more beautiful spiritual messages that MacDonald manages to work into his story, messages that adults can appreciate as much as children. Its more fun to come across them fresh ^_^
Labels: children, fairytales
