Fictional Speculations

The Road
Cormac McCarthy
Knopf Books
2006

Introduction

If I had to describe this novel, it would have been: "A journey of a father and his son across the ravaged abyss. No humanity remained; no hope could have survived. Grey, dark and deafening desolation. They had nothing and there was nothing to be had. The man knew: his son was all that stood between him and death": except that my Literature teacher had always told me to stay with critical text and forget recreative writing. This is a story about a dying man and his love for his son in post apocalyptic America – where man has forgotten humanity and resort to whatever means they have to survive, even if it means eating their own kind. McCarthy details a raw and profoundly emotional tale of their journey as the father seeks to keep his child alive both in body and in spirit against the most hostile odds.

Caution: Do not read if already clinically depressed.

Review

When my friend gave me a copy of this novel three years ago, he warned me of two things:

1. McCarthy has a style similar to Ernest Hemingway and seeing how I am none too fond of Hemingway, I will need to be patient with the language and see how McCarthy's style actually fits and enhances his subject in "The Road"; and
   
2. If ever I decide to do a review of this book, I should proceed very carefully with the critique, because McCarthy is a man's author and there will be many out there who will tear me to shreds should I say a single word that is not suitably deferential.
   

I figured it was well and good: if I could live with critique of Tolkien's long, often rambling sentences on an imaginary world, McCarthy's fans can live with my critique of their idol's short pithy ones.

I seldom read apocalyptic stories – because life, as it is, is depressing enough – and it is a testimony to McCarthy's sheer skill that I waded through two boxes of Kleenex to finish this book three years ago and once more today. He writes not of a fantastical world borne out of the destruction of reality as we know it, but of a return to the harsh, brutal and barbarous environment that predated the birth of humanity and civilization. He sets out to paint the basic nature of man as Thomas Hobbes saw it: "nasty, brutish, solitary and short", as post-apocalyptic America degenerates into a hellhole where every tiny morsel of food is scavenged, where man will enslave and herd their own species as a source of food, where God no longer exists and where even waking up to a brand new day is nothing to hope for.

The bleak landscape is made all the more stark by his short, crisp sentences, broken up by beautifully savage descriptions of the state of ruin and death. Just as his characters wasted not in order to survive, McCarthy cut words, sentences, punctuation down to the barest minimum. Dialogues between characters are usually simple verbal phrases, curt and devoid of human conversation. McCarthy writes prose the way good poets write poetry: the world is full of "charred and limbless trunks of trees", "[b]lack water running from under the sodden drifts of ash" "sagging hands of blind wire string from blackened lightpoles." In this landscape the reader is acutely aware: there is no future to be had; how can there be hope?

Yet the reader fervently hopes, as we walk alongside the father and the son. On surface, the novel is nothing more than descriptions after descriptions of their struggles for survival on this desperate journey to nowhere, kept alive by the fast moving plot, the relentless tension and McCarthy's superior finesse with the details that create a realistic and haunting landscape. So well did McCarthy capture his characters that by the end of the book, I have even adopted the father's paranoid worldview: no one is to be trusted, threat looms in every corner. At every step of the journey, I am deeply torn. I urge the father to overcome his terminal illness and bring his son one more step closer to safety; yet knowing just how the hopeless the future is, I find myself agreeing with the deceased mother that suicide and an early death may be the kinder mercy.

On a deeper reading however, I did think that this is rather more a story of a man's struggles to maintain his morality, his sanity, his soul intact not just against the hostile environment, but also in face of his overwhelming love for his son. How much should he be willing to do, how long can he turn his back on humanity and how low was he willing to sink to protect his son? The reader is lured onto moral ambiguity (which is my favourite catchphrase recently), as we understand and condone some of the choices the man makes. Our age and the stage of our lives we are in affect the experience: I was taken aback in this rereading, when I found myself castigating the young boy for his naiveté; in my first reading three years ago, I had pictured the child as the voice of conscience, the last remnants of Godly morality in this barren world.

For all the grey areas (pardon the pun) it is the love of a dying father for his son that offers this dark tale its only solace. My favourite passage in this book and I shall have to leave its context to your imagination and hopefully, your own reading:

"They lay listening. Can you do it? When the time comes? When the time comes there will be no time. Now is the time. Curse God and die. What if it doesnt fire? Could you crush that belived skull with a rock? Is there such a being within you of which you know nothing? Can there be? Hold him in your arms. Just so. The soul is quick. Pull him toward you. Kiss him. Quickly."

Final verdict

One of the most depressing novels I have ever read. Thought provoking, heart wrenching, it leaves this heavy, heavy weight of catharsis all bottled up inside of me after going through a full box of Kleenex.

Are you kidding? This is a seminal work of art. Go pick it up immediately and buy hardcover.

Rating: 5/5

Personal context

Christmas 2006: I had graduated not too long ago and was settling into my job, which was no walk in the park those first few months. Perry, a good friend with a sick, sick sense of humour, had just managed to score home leave after a year in the battlefields and deigned to send me a graduation package along with my Christmas presents. The Christmas presents were a sweet surprise, but the graduation present took the cake. He had included McCarthy's The Road, nearly hot off the presses, with this note: "…The end of the world is nigh. Have a read whenever you feel like running back to school – I guarantee you, any job will feel better for it."

I read it, put it back on my shelf and never spoke of it again. It was devastating.

Fast forward: January 2010. I am in the doldrums in my (new-ish) job, trapped in a meaningless cycle of disenchantment, disinterest, demotivation and demoralisation. Along came YC, who asked randomly, rather out of the blue, if I would like to attend a book club, who would be discussing The Road. Having forgotten where my copy is, I swung by the library to borrow a copy and read it between the end of the work day and the start of work night.

Perry lied: my job may look so much more bearable for it, but I don't feel better – I am depressed.

The Step Sister Scheme

Jim C. Hines

Daw Books (2009)

344 pages


Introduction

The Step Sister Scheme is the first book in a series that revealed what cynical grown-ups always knew: life is never a fairy tale. Cinderella has just married her prince charming, but life after marriage is not at all a smooth journey. Her step sisters has launched a revenge plot that results in the prince being kidnapped and squirreled away in Fairy Town, the realm of the Fairies. Pregnant with the prince's child, Cinderella, whose real name is actually Danielle, sets off to rescue her one true love with the help of – wait for it – Snow White, a mirror mage with first class flirting instincts and Talia, a fairy-blessed, martial arts expert who is really Sleeping Beauty. Familiar villains abound and a few surprising twists springing up now and then, Cinders has to rely on her new companions and her furry and feathered friends to get back that "happily ever after" the Grimm brothers promised her.

Review

I love retellings and it is often difficult to find someone who does retellings well, much less someone who can do an engaging parody the way Hines does it. In The Step Sister Scheme, Hines gives familiar classics a dry sense of humour interspersed with dark realism, while placing a fresh (and often sinister) lens on some of the plot loopholes that we have conveniently overlooked in the rose-tinted Disney versions of these fairy tales. While the book is clearly meant more for light entertainment, it is not a simple fanciful romp through fairy tale land – Hines went out of his way to make this a relatively intelligent read. Not only does he do his research into the origins of these fairy tales, he also provides some room for thought and will probably give feminists a field day. Being a natural dork, I appreciate the fact that Hines has chosen the Grimm Brother's version of Cinderella, Aschenputtel, as his source story. The plot is fast moving and well-paced, leaving no room for the reader to put the book down once past the first chapter.

Above all, Hines has made Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty a lot more likeable and believable than their original namesakes. No more damsels in disguise depending on magic and the goodwill of some external forces, these ladies are fantastic heroines with functional brains and wits of their own. Nor are they one-dimensional archetypes: these women have to grapple with their respective pasts and moral dilemmas and in the process, make some choices with such a cavalier attitude that that their princess-y predecessors would be tearing their beautiful tresses out six feet under. There may be some complaints about how Hines give each of these princesses specific personality traits that border on being stereotypes, but I am giving him the benefit of the doubt since this is but the first in the series.

If I have a complaint, it would be Hines' treatment of secondary and particularly villainous characters. Just as all the fairy tales, these characters remain underdeveloped and come across as the singular archetypes that the good guys are not. The only exception was Danielle's stepsister, Charlotte, who could have been a tad more interesting if there was enough air time. Randomly, does anyone share my fascination with the fact that the princes in these fairy tales are really the most token characters? They are there just for the kiss – how's that for objectification?

Magnus opus this is not, but boy, it is a delightful and highly engaging read. I am waiting impatiently for my book dealer to give me the next book.

Final verdict

Take this book for what it is – an entertaining trade paperback. Do not expect grand themes and complex characters. Think Hollywood's spring vacation movie offerings, and you are good to go.

Rating: 4

… and I am already running behind.

Butcher, Jim. The Codex Alera

1. Furies of Calderon
   
2. Academ's Fury
   
3. Cursor's Fury
   
4. Captain's Fury
   
5. Princep's Fury
   
6. First Lord's Fury (e-Book)
   

Berkeley Publishing Books (2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2009)


Introduction

This series chronicles the adventures of a young man, Tavi, as he rises over and above his humble beginnings to save the realm of Alera, a fictional empire that mirrors the social structure of ancient Rome. The single patriachial monarch, the First Lord Gaius Sextus, is dying and having no heir or clear successor, shows no sign of relinquishing his control over an increasingly fragmented empire. As civil war looms, Alera comes under attack on all sides by hostile enemies and it is up to Tavi to protect his king and country not just from foreign enemies but also traitors among their own ranks. Unlike his fellow countrymen, who use unique bonds with the elemental forces of nature, named furies, for protection, Tavi has no command over any fury and has to rely on his wit and skills with the blade to help the First Lord maintain order against all adversaries.

Review

I have forgotten how to write a proper review, sigh.

My first introduction to Butcher was through his urban fantasy series, the Dresden files, which would help explain why I was taken somewhat by surprise by the Codex Alera. Although Butcher kept his dry sense of humour and self-deprecating characters, the Codex was a traditional coming-of-age fantasy complete with elemental powers. So traditional, I could tell the broad story arc of the series within the first three chapters.

The rest is then really in the details.

Butcher has chosen to create a world of separate and different nationalities, all at war with one another. The Alerans are synonymous with humans, just with the ability to control elemental beings (Captain Planet comes to mind.) The Marat reminds me of Native Americans, particularly with their clan-like structure; the Canims are rather like walking and rational werewolves, complete with the pack mentality and the Ice Men, who I imagine, are modeled after the Northern barbarians. (Barbarians are often from the North. I suspect it is the cold and the surfeit of body hair.) The distinct stereotypes made the story a tad more simplistic than it could have been, especially when interaction between each of these races appear to be limited prior to the events in these series.

Treachery and espionage on all ends, together with the limited territories, result in a series of wars – all of which, naturally, Tavi is on hand to solve. There were moments in the books when I thought he was rather like UN Secretary-General preaching the benefits of mutual understanding and cooperation over and above war. I would have suspected that Butcher is a peacenik influenced by the wars of recent years; it won't be the first time a writer of speculative fiction attempts to rewrite reality in their own utopian creations after all. However, Butcher also subscribes to the "where diplomacy does not work, the common enemy will." A common enemy the likes of nuclear warfare: the overarching evil presence of the Vord, a hive of evil creatures with the ability to possess their enemies' bodies and overwhelmingly destructive powers, forces all the warring parties to drop their enmity with one another and focus their efforts on the Vord. In face of this international crisis, the reasons for civil war are also eradicated, and I trust we already know by this point how this series will end.

The problem with speculative fiction these days: it is getting increasingly harder to find series that really take the reader completely by surprise, especially trade paperbacks. What separates the wheat from the chaff depends heavily on the author's skills beyond creating a plot. In this case, Butcher made this series worth reading through the depth in characterisation, the interactions among the characters, the occasional snide humour, the moral ambiguity and the excellent pacing of the story. I prefer the first three books to the latter three books, largely because of Tavi's development – all of which you'd have to read to find out, because as said, the details make up for the plot. I have my problems with the arch-villain archetype, but Butcher manages to provide room for readers to sympathise even with the all-destroying Vord.

Rating: All in all, a 3/5 stars.

Like series: The first series that came to mind in reading Codex Alera is David Eddings' the Belergariad.

I have no idea what possessed me to start a blog, especially at this juncture where I already have several things that I am trying to stay on top on - but I suspect it has everything to do with the dork-with-lemming-instincts tendencies. I have tried for years to keep a list of books I read in a year and dutifully review each book, if only to force myself to think more about what I read. Naturally I have always failed.

(This blog is off on a bad start, isn't it?)

 2010, I swear, will be different.