Narratives from the Multiverse

My read through for this book left me just a bit confused. It was worth a bit of research to get some form of clarification as to what exactly had been going on, and I like to think I've finally picked up on the bulk of this text. Being an older book, it is based on a dated (and generally refuted) theory about how language affects not only the way a person thinks, but also how a person behaves. The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, which was the basis for most of this piece of science fiction, had at one point merit enough to inspire what would happen to Rydra Wong. Without really realizing it, she had been learning an ancient language, the first language, I think we're told, that has basically been booby-trapped and used as a weapon to control (or at least manipulate) the interpreter. In this case, we're in the midst of war-plant sabotage, and Rydra, being a brilliant linguist and all, has been asked to decipher this cryptic code. The more she discovers about it, the more she finds herself enveloped in it, indeed manipulated by it. She accepts this with some surprise, still marveling at the brilliance of the language, which has opened up the world so much wider to her, and Butcher. It ends on a fairly positive note. The varying critiques of this book suggest a second read, which I think I will have to do when I get a little more time. Over the break.

The book gets into other elements that would have otherwise just been thrown in, but fit nicely. There are several characters who have gone through body manipulations, adding robot parts, or gaining additional ligaments, or whatever their hearts may desire; in some cases, people might be modified so that they appear near reptilian (isn't there a guy these days who has gotten many tattoos and his tongue split to achieve this effect? I'm pretty sure there is) or even dragon-esque. Nails, tails, scales, and the like. In some ways, these are just ways of expression, like language is. Sending a message. The other large plot element is that there is a huge galactic war going on, and that the bad guys are never really introduced properly (to my better memory). It's a novelette that is very heavily focused on language and construction, and I'm sure the writer was himself a linguist. He points out the absolute importance of how we perceive, how we express, and how we interact based on just a single language. There are many universal truths that can be explored through his interpretation of a fictional language, most notably that, while it IS a theory that has been tested and refuted time and again, there is some important differences in the fundamentals of a person's thoughts depending on the language that has affected them. In these instances that happen in the book, it is up the reader to decipher how Rydra and Butcher are different in their knowing this language, as it's something they can't recognize themselves. We are asked, therefore, to be more aware of ourselves, and of our surrounders, and to be critical of language in every sense of the word possible. Not bad for a short story, not bad at all.

The Final Frontier

For the record, and to start, not a quick drawing. But worthwhile!

Though the previous weeks' read had elements of science in it, this book is the first real voyage into the world of science fiction for the class (well, unless you count Frankenstein, I guess). As far as sci-fi is concerned, this one is really incredibly rich in speculation. He is, at the beginning of the story, just a man (more-or-less), like anyone else. Through a set of circumstances, he is abandoned and left for dead. The audience is able to relate to his loneliness, his developing hatred, and eventually, his potential for revenge. As he wanders, so too do we, in a universe with potential to make us both happy and miserable, his life is victimized by circumstance more often than not. Throughout much of the book, he seems to be encouraged to be cruel, angry, and otherwise primal. He seems for some while to be the darkest part of our souls, the beast waiting to get out and take what it wants, how ever it wants to. Until, of course, he manages to meet himself quite literally.

The book introduces a very cool concept called jaunting, where Gully and a very few others can manage to travel at first through space, and then time. I feel like this is a vessel Bester uses in order to have us try to confront ourselves in a less literal way. Our lead acts with anger because he has been wronged. He was wronged because he couldn't be trusted by strangers, though he was clearly in need of help after his ship had crashed. Negative feelings and emotions topple one another over and over, person by person, creating a disdain that would otherwise be insurmountable, were it not for his new unique and rather profound vantage point. In this simple manner, though circling a wild plot the entire time, he gains some sentience that changes his perception entirely. He reveals in us our own malice, and exemplifies its inconquerableness, making it painfully obvious that we're either going to have to accept one another or kill ourselves over preconceptions, using a powerful explosive that, while this was written in the 50's mind you, rings a dark bell even for the modern day. The beauty of this book is in the ending, where all speculation is cut short and what is revealed as the solution is an uncolonized planet that can only be lived on if you believe in peace and harmony, (as is the secret of his power to move through time and space) the ultimatum of which being a fate beyond the control of any one person. Thinking about this a little more, it is perhaps the author's way of begging us to step back, and to colonize not anew, but differently. To face our demons with bravado, and our enemies with warmth. Which... would make sense, I guess. In that respect, the audience (reader) could 'jaunt' with ease, and could find harmony.

It's a story of revenge turned into a story about acceptance. As flowery as that must sound, it was a fantastically entertaining read through. Good show.

Emerging Directions in Traditional Fantasy

Another long, long read! Though I recognize the world building is actually not too different from the Golden Compass, what with the bizarre interpretations of Breath (not too unlike Dust, eh?) and otherwise the use of kingdoms and magic, this read was more enjoyable (to me). Maybe because it was more simple, if only slightly. Or maybe because I've played World of Warcraft and enjoyed it, if only for a couple weeks. As discussed in class, this is basically how any fantasy video game would function if written into a book. There is a heavy emphasis on this collectible substance, the good guys, the bad guys, and if you're into things like World of Warcraft, there are a number of story lines to choose from too, though the cover of the book is of one of the two princess sisters (I can't decide which), it is a read that pays attention to at least four people in detail. It's an intricate book that really has a lot going on, but I suppose its primary focus is on Breath, what is gained from it, and why it should be reviled. On top of this, there is a lot of cheap humor, juxtaposed with a few great lines.

Arguably the most interesting thing to me about this book (apart from the hilarious and intriguing Lightsong) is the relationship the two sisters, Vivenna and Siri, share. Their places are switched close to the beginning of the novel when Vivenna's long-planned marriage to a God is unexpectedly passed on to the younger Siri. In this way, before they are really even truly established, their roles are reversed. This is more-or-less a common theme in the world of Warbreaker, the manner in which many of the characters develop, and the numerous red herrings used to allow for these changes to happen. Perhaps these inconsistencies are indicative of our inherent hypocrisies, or of our maturity (whatever maturity means to you). In some cases, it might be acting tough in order to save those you care about. In others, perhaps it is pretending to be nice in order to rule the world. All just typical themes in this book. But continuing on my earlier musing, I think it's interesting how the two princesses always seem to be opposing one another, one more adept with magic, the other still learning, one rather tomboyish, the other somewhat timid. Of course, given the nature of this book, I could be referring to either of them with those descriptions. Hence, why it's an interesting relationship they share.

Religion in this book plays a more pivotal role than it does in the Golden Compass, which focused more on the corruption of the church than any God/s. Gods and kings in Warbreaker work on a level only imagined by, say, the Egyptians. Also as in the polytheistic peoples' beliefs, Warbreaker manages to make zombies (though not mummies) a believable theme. Among other things, like lesser gods, mysterious male leads, and characters with (questionably) questionable intent, it's got a lot going on. To relate this book to social politics is difficult, but it was a very enjoyable, twisty, and pseudo-scientifically fascinating read.

Mythic Fiction and Contemporary Urban Fantasy

How can you not love Neil Gaiman? Before this it had been Good Omens, Sandman (courtesy of your Comic Literature class), and Coraline for me. I was more than happy to tack on another book from his mind to my list of have-reads. My first real impression of this book was how it really read like an epic myth. I'm reminded of the stories I know through Greek and Roman mythology, in such these beings, these gods, caught up in the minutiae of the every day, effecting the people around them in great ways. Though I feel this sort of theme is a bit subdued, I also recognize typical mythical elements. (For example, Fat Charlie just accepting that he now has a brother named Spider, a sort of matter-of-fact transition that might be found in, say, The Oddysey. More pertinent to my point, the interesting magic behind the animated clay spiders or the bizarre action of having one's tongue stolen - far from typical fantasy.) Yet they are not Greek or Roman. They are African myths. Or so it's implied; I can't really say I know any genuine African mythology. The gods being named after animals is the first clue to divert from typified thought surrounding myth.

As a book, it's classically Gaiman. (Whatever that means.) Filled with humor, strange triumph with all the depressing story to finally build up to it, and sublimely bizarre and original, this is not typical of any other authors I can name immediately. Like any of his other work, it's hard to put down, and it's surprisingly easy, pleasurable reading. As diverse as his characters and plots are, he has a real penchant for keeping things simple. I think that must be a big appeal in his work. To that end, it's interesting to compare him to writers like Tolkien; as stated in class he refuses to know the formula to a typical Heroic Journey, so the outcomes and the journeys of his own characters feel significantly less forced, less implied. There must be a lot of underlying appeal to his work. He is hugely successful for a reason.