Webcomic Review #1 – Questionable Content by Jeph Jaques

30 September 2009 at 1:56 pm (general fiction, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, Webcomics)
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L to R: Marten, Marigold, Hannelore, Faye, Dora

OK, so I promised to review a few of my favorite webcomics for you lovely people. I’m starting off with my favorite webcomic, just to make it easy on  myself (I am a lazy bum, after all).

First off, what makes Questionable Content (QC) my favorite webcomic? I’d say it’s my great love of quirk. You’re talking about the person who adores Pushing Daisies, Juno, and Firefly/Serenity. I ♥ quirk. QC is is a quirky, webcomic version of Friends. It’s also set in an alternate reality, one where computers walk around, interact with their owners, and have Roomba chariot races. Scientists live in space stations and people can dress up in Victorian costumes at their local bar. Squirrels also play a part . . . What’s not to love?

Does it have a storyline? Yes, but a pretty loose one that never really ends. It started off (drawn very simply) as a story of boy (Marten) meets girl (Faye). The two meet at a bar, with Faye being new in town and wanting friends but no romance, and Marten wanting romance. So, of course, a friendship begins, which develops into a roomateship when Faye burns down her apartment building while making toast. Faye introduces Marten to Dora, who owns Coffee of Doom (where Faye works). Marten and Faye eventually move into a larger apartment, where they meet their stalker, OCD neighbor Hannelore (raised in a space station). Once Faye states for sure that she could never be in a relationship with Marten, Dora jumps on him, and the two have been dating since then.

Over the course of the comic (running since ’03), we’ve met a wide array of characters, from Dora’s man-whore brother to the drunk trucker at the bar (who becomes a famous author of trashy romance and mystery novels) to the guy who comes into the coffee shop just to be made fun of by Faye to the pizza delivering PizzaGirl. The story mostly takes place in Coffee of Doom and in Faye & Marten’s apartment, but locations across the city (of Northampton, Mass) are also used. There’s the overall storyline that follows Marten and Faye (and Dora to a lesser extent), but that arc contains smaller stories of the people they meet. It’s pretty much Day-In-the-Life-Of type stories. Sometimes two week’s worth of comics will contain one conversation about music or love or World of Warcraft.

Would I read it if it was a book? Probably not. I’m not much on Day-In-the-Life-Of stories for novels, because I think books should be more focused than that, but for a webcomic it works well. Since the comic has no end in sight, the story should be the same. Plus, reading a 5-frame strip a day (5 days a week) keeps the storyline from getting too overwhelming. And if you feel the need to see the scope of the whole comic, then sit yourself down for 2 or 3 days and read the comic from beginning to end (yes, I’ve done it . . . more than once).  Still, a full-comic read is not necessary to enjoy or appreciate the 5 frames-a-day format.

How’s the art? Fantastic, especially once you see the difference between the first and most current strips. Jeph Jaques (illustrator and author) has grown amazingly in the last six years, as both an artist and a writer. Unlike many webcomic artists who choose to keep their images simplistic (or even just at the same level they began the comic at), Jaques has used this outlet (and now his main source of income) to expand, learn, and create better art. The first strips were simplistically drawn, as most comics are, with basic coloring and very little shading. Over time, Jaques added little techniques and equipment that at the time of the change seemed pretty unnoticeable, but overall added a whole other dimension to the art.

How’s the writing? Jaques’s art is not the only talent of his to expand over the life of the comic. As he grew more confident in his writing and as his characters developed fuller personalities, the storyline grew more interesting, relateable, and thought-out. It went from stand-alone strips to a single storyline taking several weeks, or even months, to play out. HJaques has even gone to multi-arc format, where he’ll switch back and forth between two storylines or two groups of characters.

So this comic is awesome, but it can’t be perfect—what are the flaws? As with most of what you read in books or see on TV, the characters are all very good-looking and overly angsty. The looks thing can be ignored in books, but the comic tends disallow this. Even Faye, who is a more rounded person, is still considered “aerodynamically curvacious,” i.e. curvy in all the right spots.

As for the angsty issue, I suppose it’s just a side-affect of being an indie/hipster comic. They’re all angsty, right? Still,  the problems the characters face tend to seem cutesy, or not all that bad. For instance, Hannelore, the OCD girl, sometimes stays up for days because she can’t stop counting, but she just comes into the coffee shop looking tired and everyone sends her to Faye/Marten’s apartment for a nap on their couch, where they later find her having hilarious romantic dreams about Indiana Jones. Perhaps you could consider it the author just trying to lighten up a bad situation, but even consequences that last through several story arcs still don’t really seem long-term. Still, at least they all do have problems of some sort (intamacy issues, freaky parents, OCD).

Webcomics tend to be rather NSFW (not safe for work, aka rated R), how does this one rate? For the most part, this is a pretty safe comic to read, but every once in a while something crazy pops up. There have been situations of people sleeping together, sexual references, and language (this is the one encountered most), but it’s not a regular thing, although I will say it’s gotten more NSFW within the past year. There is also a good bit of high school/college humor. If that’s something that worries you, wait till I review Punch’n Pie and Girl Genius, both are safe for all.

Rating: 9.5 out of 10 stars

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Books are awesome, but give a hand to webcomics

19 September 2009 at 6:20 pm (general fiction, Not-A-Review, Webcomics)
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I’ve felt like a slacker for the past few years. I still read, but my reading has slowed exponentially. I suppose moving from a quiet farm to a fast-paced city and getting a job and boyfriend has had something to do with it, but I still don’t read as much as I could. But I realized today that, though I do read much less now, I still get more reading in than I thought. If you count all the articles, blogs, and tech manuals I consume on a daily basis thanks to my job and the internet, I read a ton. Still, I’m thinking more the type of reading I did back in school, with story lines, full plots, and fun characters having adventures.

Thus, webcomics come into play. Despite having never read a comic book, and only a grand total of two graphic novels over my lifetime, it’s surprising that I love webcomics as much as I do; although I have been following the funny pages in the newspaper ever since I learned how to read, so I suppose it’s not a total surprise.

So, how can webcomics compare to the heavy tomes I tend to cart around? The answer? Not all of them can. Some webcomics are self-contained, daily/weekly/tri-weekly strips, usually with some sort of social/political commentary or funny joke. Some webcomics, however, have amazingly advanced and complicated storylines, following several major characters who develop and change over time. These are the comics comparable to novels.

Think of the Victorian serials that ran in newspapers. Charles Dickens started by selling his stories to news periodicals, which would publish only a section or chapter per edition. Webcomics are similar. The reader follows the characters with each edition published, and the author often later compiles the stories into books, or writes full-blown novels, after she/he becomes established.

Now, don’t discount webcomics just because they contain mostly pictures. Or at least, don’t discount them right away for this characterization. Several that I follow have an extremely slowed-down time frame, so that it may take weeks for one conversation to take place. Thus, it’s not the art taking on the brunt of the story-telling job, instead, the art just enhances the story. However, in certain cases, the art makes the story line. A picture is worth a thousand words, right? See: Questionable Content here and here.

Anywho, I thought I’d introduce y’all to a few of my favorite webcomics over the next few days/weeks. So stay tuned as I count down my favorite webcomics.

On the list, but in no particularly order:

QClogo

girlgenius.01

pnp_logo

gws_200x40_03

FA_masthead

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Book Blogger Appreciation Week (BBAW)

17 September 2009 at 11:20 am (Not-A-Review)
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Since this is BBAW, I’m following my first-time-in-a-long-time post with this lil bookworm questionnaire. Please fill it out yourself in the comments, send it to me in an email, make a Facebook note out of it, or whatever works for you. And while you’re at it, try to find a few new book blogs to read. Have a good week!

BBAW_Celebrate_Books

Do you snack while you read? If so, favorite reading snack?
Sometimes. Especially those days when I do nothing but read, because I don’t usually stop long enough to eat a real meal. Favorite snack? Hmmm, probably dry cheerios.

Do you tend to mark your books as you read, or does the idea of writing in books horrify you?
Who wants to lose the momentum of reading by writing? If I really like something, I’ll plop a sticky on the page.

How do you keep your place while reading a book? Bookmark? Dog-ears?
Whatever is small, flimsy, and handy—tissues, index cards, rubber bands . . . the occasional real bookmark.

Fiction, Non-fiction, or both?
I’m pretty much strictly a fiction gal. I get enough real life as it is.

Hard copy or audiobooks?
Hard copy, but if I’m at work audiobooks are pretty awesome.

Are you a person who tends to read to the end of chapters, or are you able to put a book down at any point?
I prefer section breaks to chapter breaks.

If you come across an unfamiliar word, do you stop to look it up right away?
It used to be mandatory (I had a dictionary sitting next to me while I read), but now only if I can’t figure it out through context.

What are you currently reading?
I need to pick up Watchmen and the first Umbrella Academy volume from the library hold shelf. Until then, I’m bookless . . .

Are you the type of person that only reads one book at a time or can you read more than one at a time?
It’s rare that I’m only reading one book at a time. My usual process is to have one book in the car, one in the living room, and one in the bedroom. And it’s not that I’m lazy and don’t want to carry a book around (although those hard backs are tough to fit in my already bursting purse), it’s that I like to read different types of books at different locations.

Do you have a favorite time of day and/or place to read?
Love reading in my papasan—perfect lighting, super comfy, and has a large blanket to cuddle under.

Do you prefer series books or stand alone books?
I’ll work with both, but I tend to prefer trilogies to the longer series sets. And I generally try to wait till the series is complete to start reading it.

Is there a specific book or author that you find yourself recommending over and over?
Markus Zusak,  Douglas Adams, Robin McKinley

How do you organize your books? (By genre, title, author’s last name, etc.?)
genre, then by author last name, though I recently combined a few genres because many books I read fit in several groups

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Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

14 September 2009 at 10:05 am (Classic, Sci-Fi/Fantasy)
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PrideandPrejudiceandZombiesCover

After a long hiatus, I return to my happy hunting grounds of reading. I think I finally got over my nothing-sounds-good-for-reading hump, so I’m back to reviewing, at least temporarily. I have the awesome Pride and Prejudice and Zombies to thank for my return, that and two very lovely Borders birthday gift cards.

A huge fan of Jane Austen’s original, I both looked forward to and dreaded reading this quirky version. Grahame-Smith keeps Austen’s text and adds his own scenes and dialogue to it, so that the Bennet girls are still looking for (or avoiding) husbands, but have the added advantage of years of Chinese martial arts to lure men and and eradicate zombies. The amended premise is that 50 years before the start of the novel, a pestilence entered England (it’s never entirely clear whether the epidemic is world-wide), causing people to die and become brain-eating zombies. Anyone bitten or scratched by a zombie then deteriorates into one themselves, while hoping their loved ones will take pity on them via decapitation before the transformation takes full effect. The Bennet girls were taken to China twice by their father to be taught martial arts, in order to become some of the best zombie assassins in the nation. The younger girls are still boy-crazy, silly things, and the elder two, Jane and Elizabeth, still have the boys chasing after them. Mr. Darcy, too, is a great master of the Japanese martial arts, and another great zombie killer (Mr. Bingley stays his same bumbling, lovable self).

The martial arts addition does make Elizabeth even more serious than she was in Austen’s version, with her threatening to decapitate anyone who acts against her family, and also performing self-mutilation when she finds she is wrong about Darcy. To an extent it’s funny, but I think Grahame-Smith took things a bit too far on that end. Another characterization I wonder about is Jane, who is taught the deadly arts, but still manages to keep her same sweet innocence. I suppose it’s possible, but with Lizzie’s crazy-serious-deadliness, I wonder how true to form it is. The same goes for the two youngest Bennets, who, even after years of strict training, won’t listen to their elder sisters’ admonitions about the men of the regiment (who are, of course, there to destroy zombies).

Bennet characterizations aside, Grahame-Smith does well with seamlessly weaving in his own B-story line to the main plot. The novel is kept mostly in tact, with only the addition of a few zombie attacks (and one dear friend who turns into a zombie herself). For that, I am grateful. The zombie additions are deliciously hilarious and adventurous, adding action to a sometimes slow-paced story, but the heart of the book stays the same, and that’s what made it so great in the first place. In fact, the additions just prove how great the original is. Silly as the zombies are, the original story shines through, proving that love will endure, even with the undead wreaking havoc.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10 stars

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Blindness by Jose Saramago

22 April 2009 at 3:15 pm (general fiction, Philosophy, Post-Modern, Sci-Fi/Fantasy)
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blindnessMy latest read, by Nobel-laureate and Portuguese author José Saramago, follows a small group of people trapped in an unnamed country stricken by a white blindness. This blindness affects everyone’s sight apart from the wife of an ophthalmologist—who was one of the first afflicted with the disease. The blindness comes without warning and is passed on through the slightest of contact. The first of the stricken are placed in an old mental hospital in hopes of containing the disease. Those interned in the hospital must learn to fend for themselves as they are left alone in an unknown place without any amenities apart from beds and erratically delivered meals.

At first, the wife keeps her sight secret from everyone but her husband (she pretended to be blind so as to follow her husband when he was interned), but those around her slowly begin to realize that she is different, and so come to depend on her leadership and strength. After many deaths, too much time spent in horrible living conditions, and a hostile takeover by a blind man with a gun and a legally blind second-in-command, the wife decides to free herself and the others in the hospital. They are finally liberated, only to find the whole country turned blind, with everyone wandering around in search of food and places to sleep (the blind cannot find their ways home), the world completely changed.

If you want a book about the gritty horrors that accompany an apocalyptic event, Blindness can provide you with the needed details—this is not a book for the weak of stomach. Enmeshed with the stories of the blind internees are the particulars of bathrooms overrun by those who cannot see, a lack of water to wash anything, and the horrid deaths of several characters (some at the hands of the soldiers who guard the hospital), along with the reality of little food, of which an even lesser portion is fresh, and little sleep.

Members of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB) criticized the novel for its negative portrayal of the blind, but as the seeing wife points out in the story, it is those on the outside who are the animals—those who can still see. The blind are locked inside without extra linens or even a spade to bury their dead. Not to mention, they have no one to help them learn how to live without sight. Thus, I do not side with the NFB on this issue. I believe Saramago made a valid point in his portrayal of everyone. Any life-changing event will cause humans to revert, to forget their civilized roots. Like any apocalyptic story, it becomes a case of survival of the fittest.

Though rather heavy-handed with the allegory (definitely the weakest part of the novel), Saramago uses the novel to point out what needs seeing—that most of us are blind or refuse to see the truth of the world around us—and he’s fairly effective in his approach. After being shown the horrors the blind encounter, one cannot help but take a look at life and wonder how to change it.

One of my favorite stylistic preferences of Saramago’s is his use of descriptives rather than names for the characters (the doctor’s wife, the boy with the squint, the man with the black eye-patch, etc.). For one, it seems to me to be more poetic, but it also hearkens back to the days when the last name was a descriptive (Miller, Brown, Fisher, et al), which is a great reminder that the world has reverted. Along with that, the descriptives put the reader into the mind of the seeing woman (she is the only one who can see squints, eye glasses, and eye-patches), which focuses the narrative; it would have seemed scattered otherwise, as the narrative tends to jump around.

Another preference of Saramago’s is to use long sentences (some an entire page in length), and commas to divide the dialogue rather than paragraphs or quotation marks—like the blind people, the reader has to concentrate to find out who is speaking. The world of the characters is chaotic, and the author’s style fits well.

Overall, I enjoyed the novel. It reads quickly despite the odd style, the characters are engaging, and the action moves at a good pace, although the last third slowed down a little much. Thought-provoking but not too dense, it’s a good read.

Rating: 7 out of 10 stars

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Potiki by Patricia Grace

9 April 2009 at 10:25 am (general fiction, Post-Modern, Sci-Fi/Fantasy)
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imagedbcgiPotiki is a broken story about a broken people, or so you might guess from the first 20 or so pages of the novel. The narrative jumps from person to person and across time. Many of the main characters are disabled in one way or another, and the community they belong to is dying out. Not exactly the happy reading one usually hopes for in the get-away-from-the-world fictional stuff we tend to read for enjoyment. To argue for the other side, maybe reading about others’ problems and how they deal with them is a good way to get away from our own life issues. And that’s my argument for why this novel ultimately is a happy one, despite its brokenness—Potiki leaves you hopeful, both for the future of the characters and for your own future. If they can face the future, so can we, right?

The novel is narrated by a woman named Roimata and her adopted son, Toko, but it also jumps to third-person omniscient to get into the heads of several other of the main characters. This crazy narration spirals you through the story of Roimata and Toko’s people, a Maori tribe living on the New Zealand coastline in the early Eighties. Like all marginalized cultures, the Maori have struggled for the past two centuries to keep their identity in an ever-changing, unsympathetic world. In Potiki, we see a tribe’s struggle with this first-hand. Many members of the community have lost their jobs, including Roimata’s husband Hemi. Hemi decides the family needs to go back to the land; that farming is the only way their people will survive both starvation and a culture change. Attempts to hamper them come in the form of the “Dollarmen,” people trying to buy land from the tribe to build a water park. The community must fight to keep their land out of the hands of those who would see it ruined.

Amidst this is the story of Toko, a malformed boy born to Mary, the mentally disabled sister of Hemi. Despite his disabilities, the novel compares Toko to the god Maui (if you know your Pacific Island mythology) as Toko inadvertently performs several of the feats Maui is said to have performed—a comparison enhanced by Toko’s prescience and ability to read people. Though the novel focuses on the life of the community, it is Toko’s life that pushes the story forward.

I would say that Toko’s birth and death bookend the story, but Maori tradition dictates that tales aren’t linear, but rather spiral in nature—cyclical in that the same events happen time and again, but each time on a different level, if that makes any sense (BSG fans should understand this idea). If you pay attention, you’ll note that Roimata mentions spirals several times throughout the novel.

I won’t say much else about the novel, except to note that if you’re looking for a different kind of story to read, this is a good one. It covers myth, the struggle against the Man, and a loving community. Although somewhat disjointed, the narrative does somehow manage to mesh into a cohesive tale, with Toko as the glue. One of my favorite tales, I highly recommend this colorful novel to anyone searching for something out of the ordinary.

Rating: 9.5 out of 10 stars

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Rainbows End by Vernor Vinge

5 March 2009 at 10:47 am (Sci-Fi/Fantasy)
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February was not a good book month for me. Nothing I’ve read lately has been very inspiring, thus I have not wanted to 200px-vernorvinge_rainbowsendreview anything. I’m still in a reading rut, but I came up with a good book for review—Hugo Award-winning Rainbows End (as weird as it looks, there’s no apostrophe in Rainbows). My inspiration for this review is this article from Anthrogoggles.com, called “The first four SF books you should read if you’re working in social media.” I don’t work in social media, but I still think the books named are relevant for those curious as to where current technology might be heading. They are also good books for those who aren’t that into science fiction. Yes, there are SF elements to the books, but the stories focus on the people who have to deal with strange new tech, and not so much on the tech itself. And of the four books, Rainbows End is my recommendation to you (you can read a good portion of the novel here at Google Books).

Set around the year 2025, the story follows Robert Gu, an aging English professor brought back from advanced Alzheimer’s and old age with new medical technology. The technophobic man must deal with a younger body and mind, as well as 10 or 20 years of technological advances. Gone are the days of physical keyboards and screens that you must sit down with or carry in your hand. Now everyone wears their tech—from clothing to contacts—and interacts with the world in a mostly online format. Students in America do school projects with their contemporaries in Brazil, while anyone with the right contact lenses can overlay different scenes onto the landscape in front of them (e.g. you can make it look as if you are walking through a medieval village rather than modern city streets).

To help himself learn about the new world he inhabits, Robert enrolls in remedial classes for old agers and kids with slight learning disabilities. Here he is paired with a boy who, along with Robert’s granddaughter (Miri), teaches him the technology ropes. A subplot of the story involves Robert trying to save an old-fashioned, dead-tree library from destruction while accidentally embroiling himself and Miri in a much more sinister plot.

Much more interesting than the actual plot is the almost-behind-the-scenes theme of the novel—the singularity. Vinge, who coined the term back in the 1980s, believes that someday relatively soon, technology will reach a level of unprecedented progress, similar to the agricultural and industrial revolutions. This progress will include machines eventually improving themselves (A.I.) beyond what humans ever could. While the characters don’t seem to interact with any A.I.-type technology (there are definitely no cylons or terminators running around), the tech does seem more advanced than we could surely come up with in the next 15 years, hinting that the singularity has only just begun at the start of the novel.

I found the world that Vinge created from the idea of singularity to be extremely fascinating in Rainbows End. While not as fully realized as it could have been, it is still an interesting take on how our world might advance in just a few decades (I don’t actually think it will occur that soon, but others claim we are already on the cusp of it, so who knows). Beyond wearable computers, cars drive themselves and entire libraries are scanned and uploaded to the internet by shredding the books. Kids play RPGs (role playing games) by interacting with overlays on the landscape and can program new computer applications with greater ease than I can write this review.

Watching Robert try to figure out this alien world in which he now lives is also fascinating. Here is a man who, although a student of the humanities, can’t really stand humanity. He spent most of the time before his illness with books rather than students, collegues, or even family. Now he must rely on those very people to help him understand technology that is as inhuman as he once was. Thus it is technology that leads him to understanding of humanity. Being a book lover, it’s hard to see books fail where technology succeeds, but I suppose that’s what science fiction is all about—using an alien setting to understand humanity.

I could go into the weaknesses of the book—lack of character development beyond Robert, the implausibility of the story’s ending, or even the secondary plot in general—but these things pale in comparison to Vinge’s ideas of how our future will soon change, and how we humans will deal with this change. Like so many episodes of Battlestar Galactica, it’s the character-centric nature that drives the story, rather than the plot. I appreciate the story for that, and I hope you do too.

Rating: 7.5 out of 10 stars

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Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

5 February 2009 at 10:06 am (Christian Fiction, general fiction, Philosophy)
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americancover1999Sorry for such a gap in postings, but I’ve been working up my nerve to review what is probably one of my favorite books in the world—Brideshead Revisited, The Sacred & Profane Memories of Captain Charles Ryder. As I type, I still really don’t know what I’m going to say. Though not an overly long tale (my copy sits at 368 pages), it’s chock full of some amazing plot lines, characters, and themes, and I don’t know that I can do the novel justice. But I guess I’ll just jump in and see where the river takes me.

The tale begins at the end, as any favored story of mine does. Charles Ryder, narrator and protagonist of Brideshead Revisited, has just moved with his WWII army regiment to a piece of the English countryside containing a magnificent house, grounds, and chapel. When daylight hits and Charles sees the place for the first time, he realizes that it is Brideshead, former home to the Flyte family—a group of people he loved, hated, and envied during the magical period between the world wars. Charles is transported back to his first year of university (Oxford, Hertford College) when he meets the partying, idiosyncratic, drunken Sebastian Flyte. The two become close friends, with Sebastian jealously guarding their friendship, especially from his family.

When Charles finally does meet the Flyte family—which includes Lady Marchmain, sisters Julia and Cordelia, and brother Bridey—he sees why Sebastian guarded him so closely. As enigmatic as Sebastian is, his family is moreso. A strictly Catholic matriarch in a land of Anglicans, Lady Marchmain has kicked her husband out of his own ancestral home and into Italy and the arms of a loving mistress. She rules her family with an iron fist, which Bridey and Cordelia (oldest and youngest respectively) take with aplomb and, much of the time, vigor. Though the majority of the novel focuses on Charles’s adventures with Sebastian and the family at large, Charles is eventually drawn to Julia, the more stable, female version of Sebastian.

Atheist Charles is intrigued by this group, and they by him. Between talks of faith with Lady Marchmain and shy glances with Julia, Charles is slowly drawn away from Sebastian and to the family, and Sebastian from Charles and to alcohol. Though Charles eventually has a falling-out with the family, it is followed by a ten-year emotional roller coaster as Charles is yanked back and forth between his own new life and that of the Flytes.

Amazingly enough, all of the heartache and pain that ends the novel left me feeling hopeful. The transformation of the characters (even some of the minor ones) is so rich, so amazingly done, that I couldn’t help but know that the human race has the potential for both great and awful things. Still the tale is heartbreaking to read. It is truly painful watching Sebastian descend into his own alcoholic hell when his closest friend seemingly rejects him for the family he loves and hates more than anything.A portrait of the author

Waugh creates a distance between reader/author and characters that in any other book would make the characters seem one-dimensional, but works extremely well here. Even Charles, as narrator, is somewhat distant, as if he’s remembering with a detached indifference. In my mind, this is due to the many (sometimes painful) emotions Charles experienced during the actual events. This distance keeps the novel from degenerating into a steaming pile of sentimentality (which the latest movie failed to capture, good though it was) and keeps it more in the realm of philosophy and academic theology.

The distance and first-person narrative keep readers from seeing what motivates each character to act in and react to the events of the novel, making it seem that much more real. Charles has no clue what the other characters think of or want out of him, and I identify with that. In the matters of love and hate, I feel like a tiny rowboat in a very large ocean.

As richly drawn as the characters are, I think the element that draws me to the book time and again is the novel’s set of motifs. Billed as a secular novel, I agree with Waugh’s admission that “[t]he whole thing is steeped in theology, but . . . the theologians won’t recognise it.” Though most of the characters are deeply Catholic, they are also extremely flawed, and these flaws tend to pronounce themselves moreso with the juxtaposition to the Catholicism permeating the atmosphere of Brideshead. The knowledge of such flaws in such religious people might turn a person away from Catholicism (or faith in general), but somehow the atheist Charles is continually drawn to these strange people. He truly wants to understand how such flawed people can live with themselves in a faith-filled environment. Sebastian goes in the downward direction Charles expects any guilt-ridden individual to go, but the other characters manage to persevere and transform themselves in the light of their faith. Even Sebastian makes peace in the end.

But like Waugh stated, the theology is easily missed by most readers. Only the last few pages acknowledge this theology, as Charles’s view of the family changes upon the reflection of these long-time-gone events. To me, barely perceptible theology works much better than a didactic or sentimental discourse. The reader is allowed to come to his/her own conclusions, rather then being force-fed it.

Perhaps it was the manner of my reading (for a theology/philosophy/English class) that allows me to see this theme so clearly and to love the book so much for it. I went into the novel knowing I was looking for an idea of what the Catholic Worldview is. Like Waugh, my professor wanted us to come to our own conclusions, based on the actions of the characters and the characters/authors of several other texts. With that process, I read the story for pure enjoyment, only thinking about the meaning once it all had a chance to sink in. Still, I gain more from the story every time I read it (as is true with any good book).

With such serious themes, I sometimes forget this book is also a comedic satire—on organized religion, Churchillian beliefs, and the English nobility. A dandified Sebastian carries around a teddy bear named Aloysius while another friend is thought fashionable for his fake stutter, while Sebastian’s young sister prays daily for the souls of five African baby Cordelias, which she had Christened after herself for two-pence each. Even Charles’s eventual marriage is viewed as slightly farcical.

I won’t get into the faults here, as they’re not something you will focus on when reading the book; the faults of the 200px-brideshead_revisitedcharacters will take up enough of your thoughts. Waugh’s writing pulls you in, and you completely forget about everything else when reading this novel. All that matters is the characters and the stories they tell.

Age recommendation: 14 (for rather complex ideas)

Rating: 10 out of 10 stars

P.S. If you’re not up to reading the book, check out the 11-hour mini-series by BBC or the 2008 film. I’ve not seen the first, but the latter is well-done, though it doesn’t quite capture the full essence of the book.

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Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book

16 January 2009 at 4:13 pm (Children's Lit, Sci-Fi/Fantasy)
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“The boundaries are always there—between the graveyard and the world beyond, between life and death, and the crossing of them.” – Neil Gaiman

In the world of sci-fi/fantasy, the hype has been über high for Gaiman’s latest creation, The Graveyard Book. Every review has been extra positive and full of praise. Between this novel and the upcoming release of the film version of the author’s Coraline, Mr. Gaiman seems to have holy light coming out of every orifice of his genius body. Not that I blame anyone for their praises; I’ll probably be first in line for the midnight showing of Coraline (Neil Gaiman + Henry Selnick * stop motion= sure excellence). However, all the hype was dimming my motivation to read the novel. I’m glad I decided to read it anyway.

The Graveyard Book details the early life of a boy named Bod as he grows up the only living person in an abandoned graveyard. When Bod was a baby, his family was murdered by a ruthless assassin clad in black and carrying a knife. Luckily Bod had wandered from his crib and into a nearby graveyard, and thus inadvertently escaped death’s clutches. The graveyard’s residents decide to raise the young child as their own (not trusting anyone to protect him well enough), naming him Nobody (Bod for short).

Bod grows up learning everything from 16th Century Writing to How To Fade, but despite his interesting education and living arrangement, he wants to be around those more like him—the living. With a supernatural assassin named Jack who refuses to give up, the unliving who watch over Bod prefer that the young boy stays close to home. The time comes, however, when Bod’s natural curiosity overcomes all else, and he ventures several times out into the world, causing Jack to eventually find the boy. The characters in the graveyard must band together to defeat the assassin before he can complete his mission.

image1_smallerPossessing a talent and imagination similar to perennial favorite Roald Dahl, Gaiman was meant for children’s lit. Like Dahl, Gaiman excels at truly creepy and imaginative children’s lit, which makes it great for readers who think they’ve outgrown the genre. These readers may be initially turned off by the illustrations that pepper the book, but I believe the illustrations add to the story. Illustrated by long-time Gaiman collaborator Dave McKean, the art is black/grey and white, rough but detailed, and slightly disproportionate in nature, adding to the spookiness of the tale.

Gaiman no doubt knows how to draw in an audience. He leads with short, active sentences that tell you exactly what’s going on. For example, the first line reads, “There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.” With such a concise and active beginning statement, the reader cannot help but be intrigued, wanting to read more, to find out why a knife is involved, who’s hand is holding it, and if anyone has yet died. Each of Gaiman’s sentences builds on the last, pulling the reader in, inviting her/him to learn more.

Beyond that, the tale is well-written. With his writing style, Gaiman can make any story race along, even when little is happening or the events don’t seem connected. Each chapter is its own, self-contained tale, but Gaiman still creates one big story—great for bedtime reading, each chapter can be read separately, but there’s still that sense of anticipation as you start the next chapter.

Character development leaves something to be desired, but I wonder if that is purposeful. Though a third person point-of-view, the action is seen mainly through Bod. As a child and the only living (and modern) person in the graveyard, he doesn’t really understand much about the other, long-dead residents, who range from a 17th Century school teacher to his undead guardian who is hinted to be a vampire. Whether intentional or not, the lack of characterization works well. It allows the reader to focus on the different tales, rather than the various characters in the stories. Each chapter is a different adventure for Bod, where he meets new and interesting (though stereotypical) people.

However, there are several more rounded characters. The aforementioned vampire for one, with another being the ghost of a witch girl who has a thing for Bod the teenager. Surprisingly, Bod’s own ghostly adopted parents play a only a small part in the overall story, though they do make appearances from time to time. Conversely, the assassin Jack, though in the actual tale very little, makes his presence known throughout the book. He’s always lurking in the background, around a corner and just out of sight. With Jack’s threat looming, Bod’s story cannot really be free of him, so even though little is known about the assassin, he still plays a major role in how the tale and its characters are shaped.

Overall, a great, easy, and fun but creepy read. I’d recommend it to anyone with a little time on their hands. Alternately, you can go to Gaiman’s website and watch/listen to him read the entire book for free.  Also, I’m adding the full front and back British hardback cover below. It is just too amazing not to show. Enjoy!

Age recommendation: 10/12+ (for creepiness)

Rating: 8.5 out of 10 stars

Reviewer: Meagan

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Pascal’s Wager–Nancy Rue

10 January 2009 at 11:37 am (Christian Fiction, general fiction, Philosophy)
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pascals-wager-picI’ve had Pascal’s Wager in my collection since high school and just recently it seemed like a good idea to reread it. It’s one of those books you reread when you’re in a sort of pseudo-philosophical mood, but aren’t up for something heavier like Camus or Kant. Not to say that Rue’s book is pseudo-philosophical. I’d instead call it philosophy light, perhaps like Sophie’s World—good for those entering or thinking of taking Philosophy 101. Instead of being absurdist and nihilistic in nature, however, Rue chooses theology as her means of finding answers, and she gets it done without being preachy or heavy-handed.

Pascal’s Wager tells the story of atheist Jill McGavock dealing with the news that her brilliant doctor mother has a degenerative brain condition called Pick’s Disease. Seeing her mother becoming quickly and markedly not her mother, Jill has to decide how best to deal with the child-like shell of a woman who was once an accomplished doctor. Is her mother even in there any more or did she leave when her mind began to leave? That’s the question Jill sets out to answer. After meeting philosophy professor and Christian Sam Bakalis, Jill looks for the answer that might help solve her problems—does her mother have a soul? Although unwilling at first, she begins to study the works of Blaise Pascal, 17th Century mathematician, philosopher, and theologian.

Some of you more math-savvy readers out there may have heard Pascal’s triangle, but although Jill is a gifted mathematician, that is not the focus of her studies. Instead, Sam has challenged Jill to take Pascal’s Wager. Pascal posited that, since God cannot be proven or disproven through reason, everyone should act as if God exists. If, at the end of life, we are proven wrong, we have lost nothing. However, if we are proven correct, we gain everything. Jill refuses the wager at first—her mathematical reasoning won’t let her automatically believe in things unproven—so she sets out to prove things one way or another. Instead seeing facts and figures, though, Jill is finally convinced through the actions of her mother and those who support her during the early days of the disease.

While I prefer non-fiction when dealing with theological issues (I’m more of an analyst), I must admit that Rue does a fairly decent job of not shoving Christianity into the reader’s face. The Christian characters are Christian because of their actions more than their words—they don’t run around telling everyone to be a Christian, they simply ask that people consider believing and then they quietly continue being supportive to those who are questioning.

I like that. I’ve been a practicing Catholic my whole life and do not need to be convinced—I want facts, I want history, I want to further my understanding and peek my interest to learn more. Rue manages this through Jill’s journey to understand (and eventually believe in) the human soul. This isn’t a book of suspense—you know that Jill will eventually take the wager—this is a book of a journey, of gaining knowledge, of coming to acceptance. This novel reminds me of one of my favorite pieces of theological non-fiction, Augustin’s Confessions—looking at the facts logically, but ultimately coming to the decision on an emotional level.

Now on to my big gripe. Although the plot and concept of the novel are well done, the dialogue seemed stilted, especially when involving the main characters, Jill and Sam. This is unfortunate, as there is supposedly an immediate attraction and rapport between the two. Instead the reader sees many cheesy and stiff lines, as well as corny internal monologues coming from Jill. It’s as if Rue understands the story she wants to tell, but has trouble with the execution (I understand how she feels—this is why I stick with reviews). At times, I wanted to throw the book down and pound my head against the wall.

Still, a reader cannot help but feel sympathy for Jill as she deals with loving a sick mother who never showed her any love. If you’re wondering what kind of relationship mother and daughter have, check out the first couple of seasons of Grey’s Anatomy (yes, I know it’s not a good show, but it’s addictive). Unlike the TV show, however, Pascal’s Wager deals more with the heartbreak that comes with connecting to humans and God for the first time (no soap operatics, I promise).

While any reader can easily see the cheesier points that make the novel typical Christian fiction (it’s a fine genre, but you have to admit it can get a little corny at times), Rue still manages to create a story of her own that includes some thoughtful, theological dialogue. If you’re in a light theological or philosophical mood, you might want to try this novel on for size. It’s an enjoyable read.

Rating: 6 out of 10 stars

Reviewed by: Meagan

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