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2026年6月14日 星期日

"The Life Cycle of the Common Octopus" by Emma Knight (2025)


"A large part of her wished she could stop caring about whatever it was that had come between her dad and Lennox.  Why this fixation on a past that wasn't even hers?  But she knew why.  She could see how easy it would be to relive her parents' lives without quite choosing to, the way a toboggan finds its way into the pre-compressed path of whoever went before.  She wanted to better understand the route they had taken, so she didn't fall into it by mistake."

Emma Knight is a Canadian author with only this novel to her credit.  Before turning to the writing of fiction she was a journalist and co-writer of cookbooks.  There's talk of The Life Cycle of the Common Octopus being adapted into a television series by MGM Television, but that series is far from being realized at the time of writing.

In the book Pen (short of "Penelope") ventures to Scotland to study abroad.  After doing so she forges a relationship with the Lennox family, a group of erstwhile aristocrats living in a restored castle.  She is immediately attracted to the Lennox's young son, Sasha, but her and Sasha's feelings for one another are undermined by both Pen's father's past dealings with the Lennoxes and family secrets on both sides.

What's a young, sexually inexperienced Canadian girl to do?  Well, if you've read as many of these "chick lit"-type books as I have, you'll know that yes, Pen and Sasha eventually hook up, and yes, all of the family secrets are brought to light in the concluding chapters of this novel.

Just don't ask me what the octopus present in the title is supposed to symbolize.  I'm still not entirely sure.  The Margot character attempts to explain that during her and Pen's outing at the aquarium, but it seems a feeble metaphor, and one not entirely connected to the narrative.

The Life Cycle of the Common Octopus is a clumsily written book by a first time author.  As such I'd give it a passing grade, but only passing.  It resembles any number of similar books now on the market, and the author needs to either increase her output or start taking serious chances if she wants to avoid drowning in a sea of literary mediocrity.

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2026年5月2日 星期六

"Interior Chinatown" by Charles Yu (2020)


"'For my friend Fong,' he says, and begins singing John Denver.  If you didn't know it already, now you do: old dudes from rural Taiwan are comfortable with their karaoke and when they do karaoke for some reason they love no one like they love John Denver."

Charles Yu is a Taiwanese-American author and lawyer who lives in California.  Besides Interior Chinatown he's written one other novel, How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe, and two short story collections.  Interior Chinatown won the National Book Award and was adapted into a TV series.

Interior Chinatown illustrates the life and times of Willis Wu, an aspiring Asian American actor living in Los Angeles' Chinatown.  Typecast in a number of familiar Asian-centric movie and TV roles, Willis strives to become a "Kung Fu Guy," a function within the Hollywood industry that he's coveted since his earliest years.

The novel is written in the form of a screenplay, and in my opinion this format sometimes works, sometimes doesn't.  I wasn't always sure if what was happening was "real" or if it was some kind of metaphor, but perhaps that sort of ambiguity was the author's intention.

I think Interior Chinatown is a good book, though I do have certain objections to it.  In terms of narrative structure it's relatively solid, even if the character's trajectory is a bit predictable.  I enjoyed the author's observations on what it means to be a Taiwanese immigrant in America, though after a certain point one wonders if Willis Wu isn't just feeling incredibly sorry for himself.  Is there a point in wanting a country to love and respect you?  Maybe my saying so is a reflection of my age, but I think carrying around an expectation that strangers - and by extension an entire nation - will understand you the way in which you want to be understood is somewhat pointless.

Does America have a history of discrimination when it comes to Asian immigrants?  Certainly.  But I'm not sure what good it does anyone to regurgitate racist laws from the 1800s, or to expect that the outside world is going to see beyond the handier aspects of one's culture.  That kind of social justice thinking can only be carried so far, and if you're meditating upon it all the time you're probably only causing yourself a great deal of distress.  People are racist sometimes.  Stereotypes exist.  It doesn't make you (or them) any less American.  I suspect it might be better to approach others and their assumptions with forgiveness, rather than seeing in their (sometimes false) assumptions some sinister plot to keep you and yours down.

Besides, it's 2026.  Assuming that society has doomed you to life in Chinatown - or any other ghetto - is too much like playing the victim.  Injustice exists, but if you want something or if you want to be somewhere then it's up to you to go out and make that happen to the best of your ability.  No one's going to give it to you.  You have to go out and take it.

And yes, this "going out and taking it" is itself an Asian-American story, and moreover one we would all do well to remember.

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2026年4月26日 星期日

"Bullet Train" by Kotaro Isaka (2010)


"'True enough,' Suzuki nods, as if he had been expecting the Prince to say that.  'Like I said, that was my own personal feeling on the matter.  But that's what matters most.  I believe people should never kill other people, under any circumstances.  Dying is the saddest thing there is.  But that's not he kind of answer you're looking for.  So,' he continues, his voice suddenly kind, 'there is something I'd like to ask you.'"

Kotaro Isaka is a Japanese novelist widely published in Japan.  Many of his novels have been adapted for movies and TV, the most famous being this novel, which was recently adapted into a film starring Brad Pitt.

If you're arriving at this novel from the movie, you'll probably be expecting some kind of adrenaline soaked thrill ride.  If so you'll be disappointed.  Bullet Train is instead a very philosophical book hinged upon arguments between freewill and determinism, or between good luck and bad.  It hits a few of the same notes as the movie, but the sleek, Hollywood actioner that many know from Netflix is a far cry from what Kotaro Isaka laid out on the page.

If you've read manga like Hunter x Hunter, something like that might be a more apt comparison.  The author does write manga on occasion, and the parts of Bullet Train in which characters are forced to overcome a series of "traps" or dilemmas are much more similar to what characters encounter in the pages of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure or YuYu Hakusho.

The philosophical elements at play in Bullet Train have precedents in manga as well.  Consider the weird, philosophical discussions of the Golden Ratio in Steel Ball Run for example, or similarly high-flown plot devices in other series.  I'm not suggesting that Kotaro Isaka merely copied these things from manga titles, but there's a long history of such tropes in manga, and this should be taken into account when reading Bullet Train.

In the novel, as in the movie, several hitmen running conflicting errands are riding a high speed train through Japan.  One pair of hitmen have been charged with returning a Yakuza boss's son to his custody, and also with returning a bag full of money.  Another hitman has been charged with stealing this same bag of money, while a third hitman is trying to kill all of the other hitmen, and so on.  None of these hitman have a clear idea of the larger forces working against them, and all are unaware that a psychopath sits in their midst, a young man who takes great delight in complicating their plans.

As novels go it's not quite riveting, though I did enjoy many of the chapters near the end.  In my opinion this book's a bit too long for its own good, and the constant machinations regarding the case full of money grow tiresome.  I also don't think the "Kimura" character was as fully realized as he could have been, even if "the Prince" is a truly masterful creation.

Were I assigning stars I'd give this one 4 stars out of 5.  It's worth reading, even if it requires a bit of patience.

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2026年2月19日 星期四

"Trilobites & Other Stories" by Breece D'J Pancake (1992)


"I walk until I see a stumblebum cut into a passage between two buildings.  He has got his heat in him and he is squared away.  I stop to watch this jake-legger try to spread out his papers for a bed, but the breeze through the passage keeps stirring his papers around.  It's funny to watch this scum chase papers, his old pins about ready to fold under him.  The missions won't let him in because he is full of heat, so this jake-legger has to chase his papers tonight.  Pretty soon all that exercise will make him puke up his heat, and I stand and grin and wait for this to happen, but my grin slips when I see her standing in the doorway."

If you haven't heard of Breece D'J Pancake I'm not surprised.  He took his own life at the ripe old age of 26, and only lived long enough to see a few of his short stories published in magazines such as The Atlantic.  He was a product of West Virginia.

He was trying, I suppose, to be the voice of both his home state and the small town he came from.  His fiction hearkens back to the history and geography of that region, and his stories reveal a measured love for small town people living small, thwarted lives.  His stories are populated by men's men doomed to failure, and by cunning women doing whatever they can to escape loneliness,  poverty or both.  Over them all hangs the agricultural toil experienced by generations, and also a burning desire to either flee from or flee back into this same mode of existence.

Overall I liked this story collection, though there are times when the author strays a little too close to Faulkner territory.  Of course it's hard to be a Southern author and avoid that comparison, but I think that for the most part he manages to do so.

My favorite story was "First Day of Winter," which details the struggle of a poor farmer living with infirm parents.  This story was excellent, and the stories in this collection that aren't excellent were at least very good.

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2026年2月15日 星期日

"The Shining" by Stephen King (1977)


"Something - luck, fate, providence - had been trying to save him.  Some other luck, white luck.  And at the last moment bad old Jack Torrance luck had stepped back in.  The lousy run of cards wasn't over yet."

Stephen King has been discussed here many times before.  Will he be discussed here again?  I'm not sure, but after wading through The Shining I don't have much desire to read its sequel, Doctor Sleep.

And as I bring up Stephen King and The Shining, another figure looms his way into this one-sided conversation, this figure being none other than Stanley Kubrick, who directed the movie adaptation of Stephen King's novel.  

But first, the book.

In The Shining down-on-his-luck writer Jack Torrance (who is in no way, shape or form a stand-in for Stephen King) gets a job as caretaker at an old Colorado hotel shutting down for the winter.  Along for the ride are his wife, Wendy, and his psychic son Danny.  Danny's presence in the old hotel piques the interest of the sinister powers inhabiting it, and this interest, coupled with Jack's troubled past, is the source of much distress between the three family members.

The Shining was an early work for King, and the third of his books to be published, following Carrie and Salem's Lot, both of which were also adapted into movies.*  Carrie and The Shining were very much in line with the late 70s craze for psychic powers, a craze signified by everything from the In Search of... TV show to Project Stargate.

The Shining rode this telepathic wave to the bestseller lists, and its subsequent popularity led to a movie version which hit theaters in 1980.  This film version, though greeted with some skepticism at the time, has since become a horror classic.  It's also one of director Stanley Kubrick's best remembered films.

The problem being that Kubrick wasn't entirely happy with the story as laid out by its original author.  He rejected King's initial draft of the script, and instead rewrote the story with the help of Diane Johnson.  Kubrick, it should be said, wasn't a big believer in the supernatural, and he wasn't fond of King's ending.  His and Johnson's script is more a mix of gothic horror and Freudian psychology, two elements that King was somewhat removed from when writing his novel.**

Kubrick was, moreover, very dismissive of King's book in the interviews which followed the movie's release, a development which rankles The Shining's author to this day.  "Not part of great literature," said Kubrick, who went on to describe the novel as "a very bad book" and also "quite pretentious."

King returned the favor, dismissing the film in his own interviews.  King's biggest issue with the movie is Kubrick's ending, which diverges sharply from what he'd written years before.  I won't divulge either ending out of consideration for those who haven't yet seen the movie or read the novel, but I can tell you that the conclusions of the two narratives are very different.  Kubrick's movie ends in a more nihilistic manner, while the ending of King's story is a confrontation with the unknown and unknowable.  I think that both endings work, but I have to say that Kubrick's ending makes a more lasting impression.

As a novel I found The Shining rather hard to get through, and of the Stephen King books I've read I'd rank it near the bottom.  Like many of King's books it's really too long, and as I was reading it I kept thinking about sentences, paragraphs and entire chapters I would have excised were I its editor.  It's not bad so much as long-winded, and I think the tension it was trying to generate would have been more present if the author had skipped over certain parts and limited the amount of foreshadowing in earlier chapters. 

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*Salem's Lot first appeared as a TV miniseries, but nowadays most people would be watching it in a single sitting.

**There is a section in the book where Jack and Wendy take Danny to a doctor.  After a cursory examination this doctor offers a rational/scientific explanation for Danny's psychic powers.  This explanation, however, is later dismissed by both parents.

2026年1月22日 星期四

"Four Friends" by Robyn Carr (2024)


"'I'm not taking advantage of him.  I'm sure he's keeping very careful records.  Believe me, when we get to the official splitting of the sheets, all my expenses will be carefully deducted from my side of the chart.  And there will be plenty left." She grinned, 'California law.  No fault.  Community property.'"

Those who've been reading this blog a while are probably questioning my gender, my sexuality, or both.  Let me take this moment to reaffirm the fact that I'm still a heterosexual male who enjoys sports, nunchucks, and vehicles that go fast.  I read books like Four Friends because my wife (who is also heterosexual, if not male) passes them on to me.  I'll read almost anything if given the opportunity.

The author of Four Friends, Robyn Carr, has written dozens of books, none of which have their own Wikipedia entries, and some of which have made the New York Times Bestseller List - for whatever that's worth.  She's been writing books since the mid-70s.

Four Friends follows the personal dramas of - you guessed it - four friends living outside of San Francisco.  There's Gerri, the CPS worker who's recently discovered her husband's infidelity, Andy, a teacher who's separated from an unreliable spouse, Sonja, a personal wellness coach abandoned by her husband, and BJ, a secretive new arrival who is - again, you guessed it - recently single.  What do these four women have in common?  Hm, let me think it over...

Four Friends, it should be said, is an extremely white kind of book for whiter, more affluent kinds of people.  There's nothing wrong with that.  It shows that the author knows her audience.  It's unsurprising as Women's Fiction goes, and you can be sure that by the end of this novel the friendships between the four women are reaffirmed, and that these friendships will last forever.

I'd just like to ask BJ: when you say that's how "they" stay so thin while eating the exotic food known as "sushi," what do you mean by "they," exactly?

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2026年1月10日 星期六

"The Secret" by Lee and Andrew Child (2023)


"The fourth guy was already at the bottom of the stairs.  He turned to face Roberta.  He raised his gun but stayed well out of her reach.  He said, 'I've got to thank you, miss.  These fellas are never going to live this down.  Getting their asses handed to them by a girl?  The fun I'm going to have?  Priceless.  But today's fun is over.  You're a skinny little thing but no one could miss you from this range.'"

This is the second Jack Reacher book to be reviewed here.  I couldn't remember the title of the first one I read (or its plot) without consulting the sidebar, so I couldn't tell you which one of the two books is better.

In The Secret two sisters are out for revenge, killing a group of scientists who worked on a chemical weapons project in the late 60s.  From there enter military policeman Jack Reacher, a no-nonsense taker of names and kicker of asses.  By the time he captures and/or mutilates those who stand between himself and the two sisters the pillars of government are soundly shaken, justice is resoundingly served, and the world is once again safe for democracy.

The publication date is 2023, but The Secret must have been written during the 90s.  Modern conveniences like cell phones, the internet and even laptops are entirely absent from the narrative, leaving our hero equipped with only a phone and a fax machine.  Can you imagine trying to track down people off the grid since 1969 with only a land line and a fax machine?  A quick Google search would have resolved some of the plot points in this book within minutes.

As Jack Reacher books go The Secret is merely more of the same.  Our hero is called into service, he handles shit in the most egregiously violent manner possible, and of course he saves the day.  It's all little more than another heterosexual male fantasy, and I can't fault it for being what it is.

Will I be reading any further Jack Reacher books?  Eh, maybe.  Hopefully I'll find better things to read, but in a pinch Jack Reacher will do.

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2025年12月4日 星期四

"Lies and Weddings" by Kevin Kwan (2024)


"Bea glanced at Solene.  'Didn't you just have a big show in Miami?'

"'She sure did!'  I bought one of her paintings,' Freddy proudly declared.

"Solene looked surprised.  'Did you really?  Which one?'

"'Just Shut Up and Blow Me.'

"'That's a bit rude, Freddy!' Bea scolded.

"'No, no, that's the name of her painting,' Freddy explained.

"Solene nodded.  'Yes, it's part of my latest series.  It's my examination of toxic masculinity, based on actual words my exes would say to me.'"

Kevin Kwan's books have been discussed here several times already.  He's the author of Crazy Rich Asians and its two sequels, and also Sex and Vanity, which is the one book by him I haven't read.  He's something of a latter-day Anthony Trollope, poking fun at the rich, famous and powerful while at the same time bringing his fiction into a very modern context.

If you've read his other books you won't find Lies and Weddings that surprising, though it is one of his funnier books.  In this contemporary fairy tale a young female doctor becomes romantically entangled with a wealthy British family's only son, and even though the ending's extremely predictable both the humor and characterization are flawless.

I'm assuming I missed Sex and Vanity because of COVID.  I've never even seen it for sale in a bookstore.  If I ever come across it I'll be sure to give it a go.  Lies and Weddings was a very enjoyable read, and I'd be glad to say that I read all of Kevin Kwan's books.

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2025年9月22日 星期一

"The Redbreast" by Jo Nesbo (2000)


"Harry cast his eyes around.  At the tidy, well-organized shelves of ring-binders neatly displayed in chronological order.  At the walls where diplomas and distinctions from a career in smooth ascent hung.  A black and white photograph of a younger, uniformed Kurt Meirik, with the rank of major, greeting King Olav hung behind the desk and caught the eye of everyone who came in.  This was the picture Harry sat studying when the door opened behind him."

This is the third of Jo Nesbo's books to be reviewed here.  I've also read The Snowman, his most famous work, and The Jealousy Man, a more recent collection of his short stories.

The Redbreast represents a much earlier effort from the same author.  It was the third of his novels to see publication, and also the third of his novels to feature protagonist Harry Hole.  It's a far less mature work than the universally acclaimed The Snowman, revealing an author less ready to cut down a story to its essential details.

The novel opens with Harry Hole's failed assignment in support of the U.S. Secret Service, and from there moves into a murky plot involving Norwegian neo-Nazis, actual Norwegian Nazis fighting on the front lines during World War II, and a series of inexplicable murders centered around an illegally imported rifle.

To be honest, I had trouble getting through The Redbreast.  It's very obtuse at times, and I had a lot of difficulty telling one Norwegian ex-Nazi from another.  The parts of the novel set in the modern day are alright, but they're never successfully tied to the parts of the book taking place near the end of WWII.  The "twist" at the end really comes out of left field, and seems more an attempt to bring a narrative that's going nowhere fast to a desperate close.

In my opinion it's a mediocre book by a writer who'd go on to do much better things.  It's not terrible, but it does suffer in comparison to his most famous work.

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2025年7月20日 星期日

"Mistborn" by Brandon Sanderson (2006)


"'We fought our way to the palace, but there were Inquisitors.  They chased us, and Kelsier fought --' She stopped, looking at Dockson, 'Kelsier?  Is he --'"

Brandon Sanderson is a fantasy writer living in Utah, where he teaches Creative Writing at Brigham Young University.  He's the creator of the Cosmere Universe, of which his Mistborn novels are a part.  

The book discussed here is also known as The Final Empire, the first book of the Mistborn Trilogy.  My copy of the book is simply titled "Mistborn," so I'm calling it that.  Hopefully the distinction doesn't confuse anybody.

Mistborn takes place in the Final Empire, a kingdom whose geography is only vaguely outlined in the book.  The Final Empire is controlled by the Lord Ruler, a shadowy figure only seen near the end of the novel.  The Lord Ruler rules over the Final Empire with a magical ability known as Allomancy, which involves the ingestion of different metals and the harnessing of the magical qualities of each.  Standing against the Lord Ruler is a rebellion led by Kelsier, a former slave with a longstanding grudge against him, and Vin, his young apprentice.

"Mistborn" in this context refers to someone able to harness more than one metal to perform magic feats.  Ranked beneath the Mistborn are Mistings, who are only able to harness one metal to perform more specific magic feats.  Ferochemists, also introduced in this book, use different metals to store and retrieve different physical abilities, and beneath the Ferochemist is ranked the Ferring, who, like the Misting, can only use one metal instead of several.

The world in which these Mistborn, Mistings, Ferochemists and Ferrings operate is very hierarchical.  As already stated the Lord Ruler sits at the top of the food chain, often playing one side off against the other.  Beneath him are the Obligators and the Inquisitors, a kind of magical secret police force which enforces his will.  Beneath the Obligators and the Inquisitors stand the noble houses, which run the mercantile side of things, and below the noble houses are the skaa, a race of slaves without rights or legal representation.

It's a lot to take in, but keep in mind that the author sets most of it up in a very lengthy novel, and the concepts introduced above are only partly explained in Mistborn.  They are further refined and expanded on in further books, and at the conclusion of Mistborn even Vin, the main character, questions a lot of what she knows about both Allomancy and Ferochemistry.

When reviewing any fantasy novel (especially any fantasy novel forming part of a series), I tend to focus on three components, these being a) story and characterization, b) world building and c) systems of magic.  When thinking along such lines I am to some extent comparing any fantasy novel to both Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones, the two pillars of the genre and its two best-known series.

In terms of story and characterization I'd give Mistborn a passing grade.  Vin, the protagonist, is a fully realized character, but her mentor, Kelsier isn't.  Kelsier's other crew members are even less actualized, and seem to pop in and out of the narrative with little consequence.  Elend, the member of the nobility that Vin quickly falls in love with, is slightly more three-dimensional, but the Lord Ruler, the shadowy figure touching his family's life, remains an unsatisfying enigma.  The story that these characters inhabit isn't bad, but it's length is daunting and I'm still not sure if the economics (not to mention the climate) of the Final Empire makes sense.

World building?  Well, let's just say that Mistborn isn't either Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings.  At the outset we're invited into a world that resembles the plantation economy of the Old South, but this quickly gives place to a Medieval city which somehow functions on magic first and commerce second.  None of it quite hangs together properly, and the prehistory provided by the author doesn't go far toward fleshing out or explaining any of the events in the story.  We know that the Lord Ruler has been in power for a thousand years, but there's little sense of what happened before the present day or why.

The systems of magic presented in this book, however, are its real strong point.  These systems are, if magical in nature, well explained and relatively logical, and also open-ended.  These systems of magic make for some riveting fight scenes, and the moments when Vin or Kelsier use their Allomantic powers against various adversaries are far and away the best parts of the book.

I think this is/was a strong first novel that is probably improved upon in later books.  It has a few issues -- in places it seems cardboard-thin -- but it's an inventive story that does hit the right notes overall.  It's not Lord of the Rings, it's not Game of Thrones, but it is at least a creation unto itself.  I'd be glad to read the sequels if and when I come across them.

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2025年6月22日 星期日

"Mecca" by Susan Straight (2022)


"Sergeant Michael Miller Sr. hated us all.  'Inland Empire assholes - don't you guys have brain damage from birth?  Wait, Frias is from the OC.  How the hell is he the best shot at the range?'"

Susan Straight is an American novelist who also teaches Creative Writing at the University of California, Riverside.  To date she's had nine novels published, of which Mecca is her most recent.

Mecca opens with Johnny Frias, a California highway patrolman with a dark secret.  From Johnny the novel moves on to a cast of largely Mexican-American (or Hispanic American) characters trying to survive in southern California, some of them there legally, and some of them on the lookout for ICE.  Towards the end of the novel COVID intervenes, and on the heels of COVID there's an uptick in immigration raids leading to a standoff on a reservation in the California desert.

It's a good book, even if it doesn't quite come together in the end.  The characters are for the most part convincing, although some of the male characters seem unnecessarily macho at times.  It's no easy thing to (literally) break someone's face, and that part of the book could have used both more buildup and more explanation beforehand.

As you might imagine, this novel also checks off a lot of diversity boxes.  Character who's a single mother?  Check.  Character who's a black single mother?  Check.  Character who's a black Hispanic Native American single mother?  Also check.  Mecca doesn't go out of its way to include gay, trans or handicapped characters, but in all other respects it's guaranteed to infuriate your average Trump supporter.

I'm hoping that the author only happened to check off all those diversity boxes, and that the presence of so many ethnicities isn't just pandering.  I don't think that it is.  At least I hope it's not.

I do have one serious complaint about Mecca, however, and this complaint is that some of the antagonists are very one dimensional.  I think that delving into the personalities and motivations of the police sergeant, the rich benefactress and at least one of those evil ICE agents would have made this book much stronger. 

This said, the first 3/4 of this book is excellent.  The remaining 1/4?  It wasn't the heart-rending climax I was hoping for.

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2025年6月12日 星期四

"Human Acts" by Han Kang (2014)


"When she finally came down from the loft the next evening, her mother informed her that the corpses had been loaded into the city garbage trucks and driven off to a mass grave."

The Gwangju Uprising was a series of anti-government protests which occurred in 1980.  Back then military dictator Chun Doo-hwan, acting as President, implemented martial law across South Korea.  Many took issue with both Chun Doo-hwan's usurpation of executive authority and the harsh regime he represented, and in response many workers and students in Gwangju took to the streets to voice their opposition.  Both their uprising and the government's violent response to it form a dark chapter in South Korean history, and it is this harsh episode which is the subject of Han Kang's novel.

Human Acts tells the story of the Gwangju Uprising from several different perspectives.  We see this momentous event through the eyes of one of the students who lived through it, through the memories of a former factory girl involved in the labor movement, and even through the eyes of a corpse left to rot in an out of the way location.  The multiple perspectives on this same event cross over one another in surprising ways, and often converge around the figure of Dong-ho, a middle school student killed by the army very early on in the novel.

It's a fully realized account of an event which few outside of South Korea are familiar with.  The author was clearly consumed by the event upon which she was writing, and even though the extremely dark subject matter was hard to get through at times, I'm still glad that I came upon this book, and saw it through to the end.

Author Han Kang was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature last year.  I've seen copies of The Vegetarian in local bookstores, and I might read that one once I've finished a few other books first.

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2025年6月2日 星期一

"Intermezzo" by Sally Rooney (2024)


"At the kitchen table, she sits and eats alone, knowing that after she's finished eating she will have to wash up individually each utensil she has used to prepare and eat this meal, and to wipe down also each surface involved: the sink-side countertop, the fridge-side countertop, the cooking surface, and the kitchen table itself."

Sally Rooney is an Irish novelist.  At the time of writing she's penned four novels, Intermezzo being the most recent.

In the novel two brothers, Peter and Ivan, grieve over their father's death from cancer.  Peter is a barrister living in Dublin, while Ivan is a former chess prodigy living in Peter's shadow.  As the story unfolds the two brothers come to terms with their father's absence, with Ivan's quest to become the first Irish Grandmaster being an oft-revisited thread throughout the narrative.

Sally Rooney's prose will remind you a lot of James Joyce, though unlike Joyce her stream-of-consciousness approach often wears out its welcome.  I found it a bit unfortunate that she chose to quote Joyce in the novel, given that she's no James Joyce and Intermezzo is a far cry from UlyssesIntermezzo isn't terrible, but in reminding the reader of a far better novel this one can only suffer by comparison.

In dramatic terms I was also disappointed by this book.  The events it presents seem to be out of order, and they certainly don't add up to the big, life-changing moment that the author was aiming for.  Giving us a clearer picture of the two brothers and their relationship in the beginning of the novel would have made for smoother sailing later on, and even now, having just finished it, I'm not sure that I completely understand who Peter is or what he's about.  The (Catholic) guilt over a polyamorous affair I get, but I never got a sense of why he was so angry and troubled all the time, or why he was so dissatisfied with his life after the funeral.

There are critics who fawned over this book, and Sally Rooney has been hailed as both "one of the foremost millennial writers" and "one of the most influential people in the world."  If you ask me Intermezzo is only a passable effort, leaning as it does on the work of a much better writer.

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2025年4月24日 星期四

"The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd (2002)


"A pause followed.  I crept closer to the edge of the porch.  'I just have a feeling about this, June.  Something tells me not to send her back to some place she doesn't want to be.  Not yet, at least.  She has some reason for leaving.  Maybe he mistreated her.  I believe we can help her."

Sue Monk Kidd is an American author who sometimes writes fiction, sometimes writes self-help books.  At the time of writing she's penned nine books, the most recent being 2020's The Book of Longings, a novel.

In The Secret Life of Bees a young white girl living in the South in the 1960s escapes to a family of strong, empowered black women.  And yes, that description sounds super "woke," and yes, I suppose it is.  Anyhow, she escapes to said house and learns about both the art of keeping bees and the discrimination with which her housemates contend on a daily basis, thereby coming to new understandings of herself, her personal history and the region in which she lives.

In other words it's your typical Lifetime movie fodder, or in this case the inspiration for a wider release motion picture that not many people saw.  The starring roles in the movie went to Queen Latifa and Dakota Fanning, two actresses who probably did what they could with a somewhat derivative, less-than-inspired script.  I haven't seen this movie, mind you, but I imagine that it's a far cry from The Help or other, more concise attempts at storytelling.

The movie was, nevertheless, an opportunity to improve upon the novel.  Instead of having the protagonist wait a staggering six months for her heart-to-heart conversation with her host, the movie could have reduced that waiting period to a more believable few weeks.  Instead of overemphasizing a kind of backyard Catholicism, the movie could have minimized that aspect, keeping the theme of female empowerment without dwelling on the cult-like aspects of the characters' belief in a "Lady of Chains."  The movie could have also minimized the crying jags at the end of this book, and instead cut to the chase, fast forwarding to the protagonist's confrontation with her father.  This father, for that matter, could have been a more fully realized character, instead of a cartoonish villain plagued by a sense of loss that's never really explored.

Now of course I haven't seen the movie, but it might have done some or all of the above.  Given its 60% score on Rotten Tomatoes I'm sure it fumbled some of the plot elements described above, but it might be interesting to compare the movie and the book.

The novel itself?  Eh, it's OK.  I've read much worse.  It's no Gone with the Wind or anything, but it's OK.

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2025年3月11日 星期二

"The Art of Racing in the Rain" by Garth Stein (2008)


"The clues were all there, I simply hadn't read them correctly.  Over the winter, he had played a video racing game obsessively, which wasn't like him.  He had never gotten into racing games.  But that winter, he played the game every night before Eve went to bed.  And he raced on American circuits only."

Garth Stein is an American author, filmmaker and amateur race car driver resident in Seattle.  He's written four novels, of which The Art of Racing in the Rain is the most famous.

The story's protagonist is Denny, a married father of one daughter with dreams of racing glory.  His doings are told from his dog Enzo's point of view, with most of the novel delving into a long, drawn out custody battle between Denny and his parents-in-law.

As you've probably guessed already, they made this one into a movie, and the reviews weren't especially good.  Several movie critics complained that certain plot elements were very contrived, and I wouldn't blame the film's Hollywood production team for this fact.  The novel itself is contrived, in particular Denny's sexual assault at the hands of a young girl, and also the way in which his parents-in-law switch from good to evil at the drop of a hat.  Giving these parents-in-law more reasons to attack Denny in court would have made this book much better, but as it is they come across as cartoon villains, only present in the narrative to give Denny a reason to triumph in the face of extreme adversity.

All in all it's a very forgettable novel, though certain episodes in later chapters did bring a smile to my face.  This said, every character aside from Denny needed more agency, and the dog's constant philosophizing wears out its welcome at times.

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2025年3月4日 星期二

"The Marriage Lie" by Kimberly Belle (2017)


"And now I'm crying again, both at Corban's obvious affection for Will and the idea that he had a friend, one he liked and trusted enough to share the most private parts of himself [sic] but, for some reason I'll never know, [sic] decided to keep that friendship from me.  Why would he do such a thing?"

Kimberly Belle is an American author of thrillers.  At the time of writing she's had six books published.  She divides her time between Atlanta, where most of The Marriage Lie is set, and Amsterdam.

In The Marriage LIE (emphasis mine -- it seems appropriate given the histrionic nature of this book), Iris Griffiths learns that her husband has an unsavory past .  In search of this past she journeys to exotic south Seattle and its "projects," where she further discovers elements of his history that shake her to her very foundations.

"Projects..." "foundations," get it?  Maybe you do, and its just not funny.  Whatever, I'm a bit tired today.

Anyhoo, you might be able to guess the rest of the book.  By way of further explanation there's a gay twin brother, the husband's steroidal gym bro, and an inexplicably friendly lawyer who probably isn't so much nice as on a mission to bang a grieving widow.

It's all very formulaic and less than surprising.  The climax of the book is a standoff with the police, and the final chapter makes you wonder if the protagonist ever really knew her husband at all, given that his actions are so out of step with what she'd come to believe about him.

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2025年1月28日 星期二

"The Passenger" by Cormac McCarthy (2022)


"In Juarez Mexico.

"Yes.

"What happened to the cabin?

"It burned down.

"Was there anyone living in it?

"No.

"How did it happen to burn down?

"I don't know.  Maybe it was struck by lightning.

"Struck by lightning.

"One might suppose.

"You left school after that.

"Yes.

"Why?"

Cormac McCarthy's books have been discussed here several times already.  My sometimes almost coherent, sometimes barely incoherent thoughts on All the Pretty Horses, Blood Meridian, Cities of the Plain, No Country for Old Men, Outer Dark, Suttree and The Crossing are linked here for the sake of a dubious posterity.

The Passenger is McCarthy's second-to-last novel.  His last novel, Stella Maris, is a companion novel to The Passenger.  In this review of The Passenger I may be missing aspects of a much larger story, but I have no idea when I'll be reading that more recent book, or even if I'll happen upon it anytime soon.  Whatever the case, I find that I have to take breaks between McCarthy novels, and I'm not in a rush to read Stella Maris, however entertaining (or turgid) it might be.

On to the novel at hand.  The Passenger is about a man by the name of Western mourning his sister's recent death.  This story opens on a salvage operation involving a missing plane, and to some extent the novel leads you to believe that this salvage operation will somehow tie into the book's conclusion, but no, it adds little to the final chapters aside from both a sense of paranoia and the protagonist's reason for being in a certain place at a certain time.  Ultimately he doesn't know what forces are acting against him or why, and in this respect he's no different from you or I, however world-wise we may think we are.

Apart from the salvage operation there are digressions into quantum physics, automotive maintenance and several other, seemingly unrelated topics.  The section on quantum physics seems especially detached from the plot, and one gets the feeling that the author was using this section to parade his knowledge of obscure subjects at the expense of the story he was trying to tell.  I'm not sure, again because I haven't read Stella Maris.

The Passenger is also a long book, and at several junctures I found my patience tested.  Given the way in which conversations are described (or not described) in this book, I had trouble keeping track of who was talking and why.  This approach to such exchanges also makes interactions between three or more characters almost impossible, given that it would be very, very hard to know what was being said and to whom.  This (dare I say it) shortcoming also makes these conversations seem somewhat artificial, and especially so given how well similar conversations worked in previous novels by the same author.

Was The Passenger entertaining?  I'd have to say that no, it wasn't, and that compared to many of McCarthy's other novels this one gave me the most trouble.  It seemed very random to me at times, and far from the concentrated effort that I enjoyed in Blood Meridian or the author's Border Trilogy.

It's possible that after reading Stella Maris I'd find that the parts which don't seem to fit in The Passenger suddenly make sense within a larger narrative.  Maybe.  Whatever the case, I'm in no hurry to read that other book.

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2024年12月16日 星期一

"The Memory Police" by Yoko Ogawa (1994)


"But even if paper itself disappears, words will remain.  It will be alright, you'll see.  We haven't lost the stories."

Yoko Ogawa is a Japanese writer.  She's won several awards for her work and several of her novels are available in English translation.  She cites American author Paul Auster and The Diary of Anne Frank as major influences.

In The Memory Police an island of people, seemingly cut off from the rest of the world by more than geography, slowly forget the facts of their existence.  One day everyone forgets what teapots are, and then, discovering these now mysterious objects in their midst, they set about destroying all of them, effectively erasing these objects from their daily lives.  On another day everyone forgets that they have left ears, and even though they're unwilling to physically part with these ears, their minds close to the very idea of left ears, leaving everyone unaware that they possess such things as left ears or even what left ears might be used for.

All of this "partially involuntary forgetfulness" occurs around a local author engaged in the writing of a novel, and as both her novel and the larger story progress we see the toll these "disappearances" take on the people of the island.  These people are all, without exception, a rather meek population of unaspiring people who hope, however unrealistically, that their collective amnesia and the Memory Police who enforce it will somehow fade from the scene.

With regard to style and tone there are two easy comparisons to make here: one being George Orwell's 1984 and the other being the works of Franz Kafka.  But unlike 1984 The Memory Police is an apolitical novel, and although it shares the same surrealism with Kafka's stories The Memory Police is a distinctly Japanese creation, suffused with a sort of quiet fortitude that Kafka's stories lack.

While reading The Memory Police I was often also reminded of Junji Ito's manga Uzumaki, another story which engages in generous amounts of dream logic.  Both The Memory Police and Uzumaki are works that you feel your way through, and applying too much logic to what their respective characters say and do would be a frustrating experience for the reader.

On the whole I enjoyed The Memory Police and I never found it dull.  At the same time I have to say that it's not an especially deep novel, its intimations of Stockholm Syndrome and collective paranoia aside.

A film adaption is on the way, with Lily Gladstone in the lead role.  Charlie Kaufman is writing the script, so expect something weird.

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2024年10月31日 星期四

"The Librarianist" by Patrick DeWitt (2023)


"Here was where Bob Comet had landed, then, and he was not displeased that this should be the case.  The northwest branch of the public library was where Bob Comet became himself.  It was also where he met Connie and Ethan.  Connie came first but she didn't appear as Connie until after Ethan, so really, Ethan came first."

Patrick Dewitt lives in Portland, Oregon, though he's originally from British Columbia, Canada.  He's written five novels, of which The Librarianist is the most recent.

The Librarianist details the life and times of Bob Comet, a rather shy, retiring sort of person who's spent most of his life working in one of Portland's public libraries.  In his youth Bob meets Connie, a sheltered young woman that he'll eventually marry, and later he meets Ethan, an attractive, sexually gregarious man who is Bob's opposite in nearly every respect.

In my opinion this novel, published or otherwise, remains unfinished.  It's not that it's badly written, but there isn't enough story here to justify its length.  About a fourth of this book consists of an almost entirely unrelated episode in Bob's childhood which bears no relation to the book's overall plot, and this "missing fourth" is, to make the book as a whole much weaker, much better than the rest of the novel.  As a character Bob is a somewhat interesting construct, but who is he, really?  Is he the introverted man seen at the beginning and end of this book, or is he the young boy running away from home in the "childhood interlude?"  The two halves of his personality are never reconciled, and lacking a convincing fusion of these two selves The Librarianist just isn't complete.

The above-mentioned childhood interlude is great though.  I grew up in Bay City, and even so I was unfamiliar with the bygone town of Bayocean and its weird history.  That part of the book should have been front and center in the narrative, but apparently the author couldn't muster up enough of that vibe to sustain a longer story.

The Librarianist is definitely readable, but it consists of two halves that don't fit together.  Either of these halves might have been expanded into a good book, but their shared presence in the same story adds up to a whole that's less than the sum of its parts.

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2024年3月19日 星期二

"The Jealousy Man" by Jo Nesbo (2021)


I recently reviewed Jo Nesbo's The Snowman.  That review can be found here.

The Jealousy Man is a collection of the author's short stories.  One of these stories, the last one, is excellent, while the other 11 range from implausible to pretty good.

The story for which this anthology is named felt a bit uneven to me.  On the one hand I enjoyed its Greek tragedy aspect, but the way in which the narrator gets the perpetrator to confess seemed very contrived to me.

Another, very long story/novella which takes up nearly half this collection's length was so depressing I had to put it down and rest for long periods.  It was clearly written in the midst of COVID, and it explores a kind of standing argument between a lawyer and a rich friend accustomed to exploiting his position.

The story which begins the book is good, if a little predictable.  A woman meets a handsome stranger on a plane and fate intervenes.

The last story in this collection was by far my favorite.  This story, set in a future ruled by corporations that employ assassins against one another with near-impunity, reminded me of the manga Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, and if that reference goes over your head this story probably isn't for you.  Let's just say it gets weird and I like "weird" a lot.

The other stories?  Honestly I can't remember them that well, so I won't discuss them here.  I think that overall this collection is worth seeking out, though I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as The Snowman.  I'm guessing that the author was attempting to stretch out from the crime fiction genre with some of these stories, but I'm thinking that his more genre-specific books are, on average, better.

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