Aha! You thought I wasn't gonna manage another post for September, am I right? Don't lie. :P
Well, transferring into the IB Diploma Candidate program has been crazy, but things have settled down enough (I hope) to find time to write another review.
This book is pretty deep. I think I'll try to get a "Thoughts" on it up within the week as well.
-----------
Cory Doctorow is somewhat famous on the Internet.
A journalist, blogger, sci-fi writer, and liberal-copyright proponent, Doctorow should know better than to write a book that makes no sense.
The main character--who is called "Alan" initially but answers to and is referred to by any masculine name beginning with A--and his siblings are all children of a mountain and a washing machine.
One of Alan's sibling is prophetic, one is undead, one is an island, and three are Russian nesting dolls.
And that's just the backstory. Alan has moved into a house in Toronto (coincidentally Doctorow's hometown) and meets a punk named Kurt trying to blanket Toronto in free WiFi. Alan strikes up a quick friendship with him and helps him try to achieve a network-ed Toronto while dealing with the layabouts who live next door.
One of whom happens to have wings.
At the same time, Alan is fending off assaults from his undead brother who is randomly kidnapping the Russian-nesting-doll brothers who have come to take shelter at his house.
Have I mentioned that this book is weird?
While a great many of the plot points seem to come out of nowhere or strain suspension of disbelief, this seems to be more a case of writing imitating life than sheer randomosity.
Just like life, the book isn't just a drama, or a fantasy, or a romance, and Doctorow's writing reflects that. The comedic moments are written wittily, the erotic moments sexily, the pensive moments solemnly, and so on.
In real life we don't always get closure. We don't always know why what happens happens. We frequently have no idea who the hell we're talking to, really.
Doctorow seems to be trying to illustrate this universal truth with his plot...which features the child of a mountain and a washing machine, and a girl with wings. Go figure.
The only thing that I really couldn't digest was the conclusion, which seemed a complete departure from Alan's character. I'd elaborate, but spoilers and the fact that my nitpick occurs over less than two pages dissuade me.
In sum: This is a really surprisingly engrossing speculative fiction novel that would've been torrid and torturous if written by any but a select few authors. Doctorow doesn't manage to pull it off perfectly, but it's definitely worth reading.
Rating: 3.8/5
Friday, September 24, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Hunger Games Trilogy, Suzanne Collins--Thoughts
---VAGUE SPOILERS WILL BE MENTIONED---
In a dystopian future, the world's population has been reduced to one small nation, called "Panem", which is divided into thirteen districts plus the capitol. Every year, each district (save thirteen, which seceded aggressively) sends two "tributes" to the capitol to compete in a vicious contest where only one of the 24 entrants can emerge alive.
Such was the setting until protagonist Katniss Everdeen became a symbol of rebellion to the districts, sparking all-out civil war.
Now, this trilogy certainly isn't the first young-person-sparks-dystopian-rebellion series, and I doubt it'll be the last. The thing that sets this series apart from others that have covered the same ground is, I think, the first-person narration.
We get a direct line into the mind of a Katniss, who has been forced into kill-or-be-killed situations at the tender age of sixteen. She also has faked a love interest with her fellow competitor to gain the popular support necessary to survive the games. This created a love triangle with her best friend. Katniss has been concussed, burned, exploded, shocked, broken, and poisoned over the course of the series, at the very least.
Worst of all--though it's not directly mentioned in the books--she's going through puberty. It naturally follows after all this that she'd be a mental wreck by the end of the series; but most characters in her role display superhuman mental resilience to meet the demands of the plot.
Here, not so! Katniss is undeniably screwed up by the end of the series. In this sense, readers can relate to her. They can see she's not super-human or some immortal symbol, but a regular teen thrust into events disturbing by almost anyone's standards.
There are dozens of things that make this series attractive, but when you're popular enough for a midnight release, "attractive" doesn't cut it. What takes this series a step further is the humanity of of Katniss.
All that being said, the conclusion to the series is just one big anti-climax after another. Fairly disappointing. But hey, a disagreeable ending is far better than no ending at all. :P
Too long; didn't read--Read the Hunger Games Trilogy and marvel at how realistically the protagonist falls into insanity.
In a dystopian future, the world's population has been reduced to one small nation, called "Panem", which is divided into thirteen districts plus the capitol. Every year, each district (save thirteen, which seceded aggressively) sends two "tributes" to the capitol to compete in a vicious contest where only one of the 24 entrants can emerge alive.
Such was the setting until protagonist Katniss Everdeen became a symbol of rebellion to the districts, sparking all-out civil war.
Now, this trilogy certainly isn't the first young-person-sparks-dystopian-rebellion series, and I doubt it'll be the last. The thing that sets this series apart from others that have covered the same ground is, I think, the first-person narration.
We get a direct line into the mind of a Katniss, who has been forced into kill-or-be-killed situations at the tender age of sixteen. She also has faked a love interest with her fellow competitor to gain the popular support necessary to survive the games. This created a love triangle with her best friend. Katniss has been concussed, burned, exploded, shocked, broken, and poisoned over the course of the series, at the very least.
Worst of all--though it's not directly mentioned in the books--she's going through puberty. It naturally follows after all this that she'd be a mental wreck by the end of the series; but most characters in her role display superhuman mental resilience to meet the demands of the plot.
Here, not so! Katniss is undeniably screwed up by the end of the series. In this sense, readers can relate to her. They can see she's not super-human or some immortal symbol, but a regular teen thrust into events disturbing by almost anyone's standards.
There are dozens of things that make this series attractive, but when you're popular enough for a midnight release, "attractive" doesn't cut it. What takes this series a step further is the humanity of of Katniss.
All that being said, the conclusion to the series is just one big anti-climax after another. Fairly disappointing. But hey, a disagreeable ending is far better than no ending at all. :P
Too long; didn't read--Read the Hunger Games Trilogy and marvel at how realistically the protagonist falls into insanity.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
"Artemis Fowl: The Atlantis Complex", Eoin Colfer--Full Review
I just got back from 12 days of a Spanish immersion camp, and I grabbed this in an airport bookstore on the way home.
I ended up devouring it on the plane ride, so, lo and behold, I have a book to review the day I come home. (Or rather, three days after, due to ruthless procrastination.)
Let's see...
--------
Eoin Colfer must be some sort of savant. Seven full-length books in, and he still manages to weave a tale mostly exempt from the sequelitis and degenerative effects of an aging series.
"The Atlantis Complex" introduces a new piece to the jenga tower of criminal-mastermind-turned-do-gooder Artemis Fowl's life. Mental illness. Inevitable for a boy genius, really. Artemis' internal mental struggle sidelines him for the majority of the novel, letting the development of the other characters shine.
The antagonist in particular (a certain Turnball Root) is interesting to observe. He is motivated by revenge, fairly old hat in this series, but also by love. This is something new. This is the first time a Fowl villain (no pun intended) has had a motive stretching beyond the typical rage/vengeance/money spectrum.
Although Turnball's backstory removes any sympathy the reader might feel for his amorous motives, this could signal a trend away from the black-and-white conflicts that have characterized the Artemis Fowl series so far. That would be great fun to read, especially when combined with Artemis' increasing maturity, an underlying theme throughout the series.
Unfortunately, Colfer shifts his prose grayer with a certain amount of awkwardness. At times it feels as though the main characters are being neglected to pontificate on Turnball's ANGST. While discussion of the villain's character is certainly not a bad thing by itself, the balance of attention feels a little out of whack.
This book represents a tentative step in a new direction. I for one hope that Colfer keeps on walking. While the ranking of this book versus the other six is debatable, it definitely won't come in last.
Pick it up, all ye Colfer faithful.
Rating: 3.4/5
I ended up devouring it on the plane ride, so, lo and behold, I have a book to review the day I come home. (Or rather, three days after, due to ruthless procrastination.)
Let's see...
--------
Eoin Colfer must be some sort of savant. Seven full-length books in, and he still manages to weave a tale mostly exempt from the sequelitis and degenerative effects of an aging series.
"The Atlantis Complex" introduces a new piece to the jenga tower of criminal-mastermind-turned-do-gooder Artemis Fowl's life. Mental illness. Inevitable for a boy genius, really. Artemis' internal mental struggle sidelines him for the majority of the novel, letting the development of the other characters shine.
The antagonist in particular (a certain Turnball Root) is interesting to observe. He is motivated by revenge, fairly old hat in this series, but also by love. This is something new. This is the first time a Fowl villain (no pun intended) has had a motive stretching beyond the typical rage/vengeance/money spectrum.
Although Turnball's backstory removes any sympathy the reader might feel for his amorous motives, this could signal a trend away from the black-and-white conflicts that have characterized the Artemis Fowl series so far. That would be great fun to read, especially when combined with Artemis' increasing maturity, an underlying theme throughout the series.
Unfortunately, Colfer shifts his prose grayer with a certain amount of awkwardness. At times it feels as though the main characters are being neglected to pontificate on Turnball's ANGST. While discussion of the villain's character is certainly not a bad thing by itself, the balance of attention feels a little out of whack.
This book represents a tentative step in a new direction. I for one hope that Colfer keeps on walking. While the ranking of this book versus the other six is debatable, it definitely won't come in last.
Pick it up, all ye Colfer faithful.
Rating: 3.4/5
Sunday, July 25, 2010
"Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour", Bryan Lee O'Malley--Full Review (Kinda)
Disclaimer: This review is actually fairly pointless. If you love Scott Pilgrim, you're guaranteed to get this book regardless of what I say. If you dislike Scott Pilgrim, the final volume certainly won't change your mind.
That effectively renders a review moot, save for spoilers, and I try to avoid those. This review is purposely vague, in fact. :/
------------------------------
The long-awaited sixth and final volume of the Scott Pilgrim series does not disappoint. At all. In fact, if "Awesome" was infinity and "Disappointing" was negative infinity, this book would go through negative infinity on the way to infinity. At least twice.
For the uninitiated: Scott Pilgrim is a Canadian graphic novel series combining social drama with kung-fu action, videogame tropes, and the most bizarre sense of humor this side of dadaism.
The final volume is the darkest in the series. I think this is the first time a character has actually bled, rather than suffering cartoony bludgeoning. Copiously, at that. However, rather than decreasing the amount of humor and deliberately making the conclusion darker and edgier, O'Malley manages to work humor into even the most gruesome impalement. This impressive balancing act is entertaining most of the time, though there are a couple instances where it comes across as jarring or inappropriate.
O'Malley's art has improved over the six volumes as well, to the point where I can now tell the characters apart. Seriously, that was a problem I had in the first couple volumes. D:
There are several scenes of extreme beauty in this volume as well as a couple scenes of horrific events, and O'Malley could've managed none of them at the beginning of his career.
The ending is one of the most satisfying I've ever read, and cleverly wraps up several loose ends that had left readers puzzled. The only downside is that it isn't different enough to entice skeptics to the series, but if you dislike Scott Pilgrim, you're probably not very important anyway. :P
Rating: 4.7/5
That effectively renders a review moot, save for spoilers, and I try to avoid those. This review is purposely vague, in fact. :/
------------------------------
The long-awaited sixth and final volume of the Scott Pilgrim series does not disappoint. At all. In fact, if "Awesome" was infinity and "Disappointing" was negative infinity, this book would go through negative infinity on the way to infinity. At least twice.
For the uninitiated: Scott Pilgrim is a Canadian graphic novel series combining social drama with kung-fu action, videogame tropes, and the most bizarre sense of humor this side of dadaism.
The final volume is the darkest in the series. I think this is the first time a character has actually bled, rather than suffering cartoony bludgeoning. Copiously, at that. However, rather than decreasing the amount of humor and deliberately making the conclusion darker and edgier, O'Malley manages to work humor into even the most gruesome impalement. This impressive balancing act is entertaining most of the time, though there are a couple instances where it comes across as jarring or inappropriate.
O'Malley's art has improved over the six volumes as well, to the point where I can now tell the characters apart. Seriously, that was a problem I had in the first couple volumes. D:
There are several scenes of extreme beauty in this volume as well as a couple scenes of horrific events, and O'Malley could've managed none of them at the beginning of his career.
The ending is one of the most satisfying I've ever read, and cleverly wraps up several loose ends that had left readers puzzled. The only downside is that it isn't different enough to entice skeptics to the series, but if you dislike Scott Pilgrim, you're probably not very important anyway. :P
Rating: 4.7/5
Sunday, July 18, 2010
"Outliers", Malcolm Gladwell--Full Review
Malcolm Gladwell has debunked the American Dream. At least, he’s tried. Gladwell, who also wrote “Blink” and “Tipping Point,” isn’t nearly as in-depth or convincing as he could be.
The thrust of the first half of “Outliers” is that people who occupy societal positions far beyond the norm achieved them less through innate talent and more by being in the right place and at the right time. Thus, no one, regardless of their talent or effort, is truly “self-made.”
Gladwell has some impressive examples to support this. He takes a list of the 75 richest people throughout history and points out that a disproportionate number of them (14) lived in the 19th century. As it turns out, all these people were born between 1831 and 1840. Age-wise, these people, such as J. P. Morgan and Andrew Carnegie, were perfectly poised to take advantage of the economic revolution of the 1860s and 1870s.
Unfortunately, Gladwell provides no other evidence on par with this. He is positing that this pattern occurs throughout humanity, yet applies only one worldwide example to his research. He cites a great a many studies--and has a well-annotated bibliography to boot—but none of them deal with more than 1000 people. When proposing something that affects six billion people, small numbers do not prove anything. It should be noted that the studies support his arguments admirably, though. They simply do not cover enough people to be certain whether the pattern holds throughout the world.
The second half of the book deals with cultural legacy. It attempts to explain, among other things, why the airline Air Korea had so many crashes, and why Asians are so good at math. In these chapters, Gladwell’s research is much more clear-cut, although his writing occasionally brushes past possible alternative explanations. For example, he explains how the composition of Chinese number words allows Chinese-speakers to think much more quickly about math problems. However, he neglects to address the case of Chinese who were raised in an English-speaking country and learned English simultaneously.
Gladwell’s highly personal and fast-flowing prose tends to lend weight to his arguments through sheer personality, which makes the book much more enjoyable to read. He fails to conclusively prove a great many of his postulations, but in the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t detract from the book as much as it would seem. His intention is to “transform the way we understand success” (quote from inside flap) and fascinating anecdotes he provides do just that.
Bottom Line: Read it if you’re a sociology major or interested in the concept. An entertaining read, but be sure to not take it as cold hard fact.
Rating: 3.2/5
The thrust of the first half of “Outliers” is that people who occupy societal positions far beyond the norm achieved them less through innate talent and more by being in the right place and at the right time. Thus, no one, regardless of their talent or effort, is truly “self-made.”
Gladwell has some impressive examples to support this. He takes a list of the 75 richest people throughout history and points out that a disproportionate number of them (14) lived in the 19th century. As it turns out, all these people were born between 1831 and 1840. Age-wise, these people, such as J. P. Morgan and Andrew Carnegie, were perfectly poised to take advantage of the economic revolution of the 1860s and 1870s.
Unfortunately, Gladwell provides no other evidence on par with this. He is positing that this pattern occurs throughout humanity, yet applies only one worldwide example to his research. He cites a great a many studies--and has a well-annotated bibliography to boot—but none of them deal with more than 1000 people. When proposing something that affects six billion people, small numbers do not prove anything. It should be noted that the studies support his arguments admirably, though. They simply do not cover enough people to be certain whether the pattern holds throughout the world.
The second half of the book deals with cultural legacy. It attempts to explain, among other things, why the airline Air Korea had so many crashes, and why Asians are so good at math. In these chapters, Gladwell’s research is much more clear-cut, although his writing occasionally brushes past possible alternative explanations. For example, he explains how the composition of Chinese number words allows Chinese-speakers to think much more quickly about math problems. However, he neglects to address the case of Chinese who were raised in an English-speaking country and learned English simultaneously.
Gladwell’s highly personal and fast-flowing prose tends to lend weight to his arguments through sheer personality, which makes the book much more enjoyable to read. He fails to conclusively prove a great many of his postulations, but in the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t detract from the book as much as it would seem. His intention is to “transform the way we understand success” (quote from inside flap) and fascinating anecdotes he provides do just that.
Bottom Line: Read it if you’re a sociology major or interested in the concept. An entertaining read, but be sure to not take it as cold hard fact.
Rating: 3.2/5
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
"wtf", Peter Lerangis--Thoughts
For the record, a "Full Review" is harder to write. I have to form a solid opinion and condense it. Here, I can kinda go off the beaten path and have vague opinions~
So, wtf. Colloquially, "what the fuck", in case you didn't know.
First thing I noticed was that the teaser on the back bears very little resemblance to the actual plot. Rather annoying, to the say the least.
Second thing I noticed, this book is written from six different viewpoints, separated by chapters. Normally this grates on me, but for some reason it didn't this time around. The story centers on three kids trying to sell what they think are drugs and how the situation pretty much goes to hell as other people get involved.
It's kinda like "Things Fall Apart" (Achebe) but with drugs and the mob, set in present day NYC. Also much shorter. :P
I doubt the novel breaks 250 pages, which is pretty disappointing given the potential contortions of the plot. Sure, everything is resolved neatly, but it *could* have stretched on for another couple hundred pages with some serious drama and romance.
As it is, all the conflict is resolved by a single car crash and the reader gets nice little one-paragraph ever-afters* for the six main characters.
So. This book is actually pretty fun to read from a schadenfreude angle, as you watch things go to hell in a handbasket and back again, but I definitely wouldn't make it my primary book at any time.
*My term for the "where are they now?" blurbs that the author sometimes provides for characters at the end of a book. The Septimus Heap series is particularly good at them.
So, wtf. Colloquially, "what the fuck", in case you didn't know.
First thing I noticed was that the teaser on the back bears very little resemblance to the actual plot. Rather annoying, to the say the least.
Second thing I noticed, this book is written from six different viewpoints, separated by chapters. Normally this grates on me, but for some reason it didn't this time around. The story centers on three kids trying to sell what they think are drugs and how the situation pretty much goes to hell as other people get involved.
It's kinda like "Things Fall Apart" (Achebe) but with drugs and the mob, set in present day NYC. Also much shorter. :P
I doubt the novel breaks 250 pages, which is pretty disappointing given the potential contortions of the plot. Sure, everything is resolved neatly, but it *could* have stretched on for another couple hundred pages with some serious drama and romance.
As it is, all the conflict is resolved by a single car crash and the reader gets nice little one-paragraph ever-afters* for the six main characters.
So. This book is actually pretty fun to read from a schadenfreude angle, as you watch things go to hell in a handbasket and back again, but I definitely wouldn't make it my primary book at any time.
*My term for the "where are they now?" blurbs that the author sometimes provides for characters at the end of a book. The Septimus Heap series is particularly good at them.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
"Will Grayson, Will Grayson"--Full Review
(Left, David Levithan, Right, John Green)
The not-at-all-illegitimate lovechild of John Green ("Looking for Alaska") and David Levithan ("Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist"), "Will Grayson, Will Grayson" is a delightful read, albeit a bit angsty.
The premise is simple enough. Two teens, both named Will Grayson, both different flavors of troubled, one straight, one gay. The book is not about their meeting, or their interaction, but their residue. The life of each Will Grayson intersects and subsequently gives something to the other.
The book is told in chapters that alternate between Green's Will Grayson and Levithan's will grayson. The difference in the writing is definitely noticeable, but actually isn't that jarring. The differences highlight the different worldviews of the two Will Graysons. One is more uptight with perfect grammar and punctuation while the other is apathetic, not capitalizing anything and frequently relating real life in the manner of a chatlog.
The only downside to this book is that it's about ANGST of various types. Some people enjoy reading that, and others find it overwrought. I personally thought it wasn't over-the-top, but I can definitely understand how it'd put some people off. The gay (lowercase) will grayson in particular is almost whiny at times.
The ending, while certainly moving, seemed a touch contrived and broke my suspension of disbelief. But it could've been much, much worse. Plus it was unexpected. Always a good thing in an ending.
Anyway, I'm not gonna give this the "Everybody Should Read This" designation I gave "Alaska", but it is certainly a good book. If you're into troubled teens, go grab it.
3.87/5
...3.87 specifically because it's my blog and I will use bizarre decimal point ratings if I want to. :P
----Edit-----
Thanks to my awesome friend Zephy (aka Heather, see her blog here) we have photographs from a book signing the authors did in DC. :D
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
"Looking for Alaska", John Green--Thoughts
This book is something of a tearjerker, be warned. Telling you why would constitute a major spoiler, but I will say that it involves Alaska Young, the centerpiece of this novel. The tearjerker-spoiler occurs in the middle of the book, which, along with creating an unusual story flow, precludes any sort of spoiler-free rumination on the plot.
Which is actually pretty annoying, as I want to discuss it, but this is one book that shouldn't be spoiled for anyone. :/
--Anyway--
Alaska is one of those fascinating people whom one seldom runs into in real life. She is attractive, flighty, loyal, brilliant, idiotic, courageous, cowardly, and, most of all, completely and utterly unknowable. Not a single character understands what's going on in her head. The book describes her impact on a small group friends at a boarding school, as narrated by "Pudge", a newcomer to the group.
Bear in mind, that's a rough description. A distinguishing characteristic of John Green novels is the inability of the reader to determine one main theme. There are often several instead, which is one reason I like John Green so much.
There is a certain amount of sexual content and great deal of smoking, drinking, and cussing in this book, which caused certain (very silly) groups and organizations to raise something of an outcry.
"The book has never been marketed to 12-year-olds. Never. It is packaged like an adult book; it doesn't even say it's published by a kids' book imprint on the cover, and it's never shelved in the children's section of bookstores."
That was the author's response, and he's totally right. However, everyone over the age of 14 should read this book. No questions asked. It's just that good.
The author has acknowledged that certain parts of the novel derive from his days at boarding school, and the wikipedia article implies that the book is largely autobiographical. This has not been directly confirmed by the author, however.
It is also worth mentioning that John Green is one of the two Vlog Brothers and thus cofounder of the Nerdfighters, an organization dedicated to reducing the amount of suck and increasing the amount of awesome in the world.
Green's personal website contains FAQs and summaries for all his books.
Which is actually pretty annoying, as I want to discuss it, but this is one book that shouldn't be spoiled for anyone. :/
--Anyway--
Alaska is one of those fascinating people whom one seldom runs into in real life. She is attractive, flighty, loyal, brilliant, idiotic, courageous, cowardly, and, most of all, completely and utterly unknowable. Not a single character understands what's going on in her head. The book describes her impact on a small group friends at a boarding school, as narrated by "Pudge", a newcomer to the group.
Bear in mind, that's a rough description. A distinguishing characteristic of John Green novels is the inability of the reader to determine one main theme. There are often several instead, which is one reason I like John Green so much.
There is a certain amount of sexual content and great deal of smoking, drinking, and cussing in this book, which caused certain (very silly) groups and organizations to raise something of an outcry.
"The book has never been marketed to 12-year-olds. Never. It is packaged like an adult book; it doesn't even say it's published by a kids' book imprint on the cover, and it's never shelved in the children's section of bookstores."
That was the author's response, and he's totally right. However, everyone over the age of 14 should read this book. No questions asked. It's just that good.
The author has acknowledged that certain parts of the novel derive from his days at boarding school, and the wikipedia article implies that the book is largely autobiographical. This has not been directly confirmed by the author, however.
It is also worth mentioning that John Green is one of the two Vlog Brothers and thus cofounder of the Nerdfighters, an organization dedicated to reducing the amount of suck and increasing the amount of awesome in the world.
Green's personal website contains FAQs and summaries for all his books.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
"Eating Animals", Jonathan Safran Foer--Full Review
This book made me want to become a vegetarian. At least, until I discovered that we buy the majority of our food from the only non-factory farm in the area. But still. It was pretty shocking. Anyway, review:
A version of this review first appeared in the Langley high school newspaper The Saxon Scope.
You wouldn’t eat something infected with a dozen different diseases, that’s been fed more antibiotics than a typical AIDS victim and is genetically engineered to die when left alone, right? Well then, put down your hamburgers. Cast off your chicken and turkey. Eschew your delicious pork. For that, along with pain and suffering, is what you’re eating.
So asserts Jonathan Safran Foer in his new book “Eating Animals”, which, strangely enough, is not a an attempt to convert the reader to vegetarianism. Rather, it is a brilliant cross between Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle” and Michael Pollan’s “The Omnivore’s Dilemma”. “Eating Animals” is part memoir, part philosophy, and part exposé. In an engaging, conversational manner, Foer touches on the concept of “suffering” (what is it, exactly? Do animals feel it?), the cruelty of factory farms, and the cultural importance of meat at the dinner table.
Backed by a bibliography bigger than a college student’s thesis paper (60 pages, with added commentary) this book is the product of three years of extensive research. Unfortunately, it’s not perfect.
The extensive bibliography makes it possible to fact-check the author, showing that there are a couple times where the author presents a conclusion of his as fact. This doesn’t happen often, but in a book that otherwise so clearly differentiates and combines fact and opinion, it feels a touch dishonest. Connected to this is the fact that, although the author does not explicitly attempt to convert the reader to vegetarianism, this is a book about extreme injustice. As such, a self-righteous, moralistic tone occasionally permeates the writing. This isn’t bad by itself (Foer never really devolves into “preachy”) but it is jarring to read when you’re analyzing a factual argument the author made and he suddenly switches to telling an emotional anecdote.
These are annoying flaws, but they do not dilute the shocking overall message of the book: Upwards of 90% of the time you put meat into your mouth, you are enabling the inhumane torture of animals.
A version of this review first appeared in the Langley high school newspaper The Saxon Scope.
You wouldn’t eat something infected with a dozen different diseases, that’s been fed more antibiotics than a typical AIDS victim and is genetically engineered to die when left alone, right? Well then, put down your hamburgers. Cast off your chicken and turkey. Eschew your delicious pork. For that, along with pain and suffering, is what you’re eating.
So asserts Jonathan Safran Foer in his new book “Eating Animals”, which, strangely enough, is not a an attempt to convert the reader to vegetarianism. Rather, it is a brilliant cross between Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle” and Michael Pollan’s “The Omnivore’s Dilemma”. “Eating Animals” is part memoir, part philosophy, and part exposé. In an engaging, conversational manner, Foer touches on the concept of “suffering” (what is it, exactly? Do animals feel it?), the cruelty of factory farms, and the cultural importance of meat at the dinner table.
Backed by a bibliography bigger than a college student’s thesis paper (60 pages, with added commentary) this book is the product of three years of extensive research. Unfortunately, it’s not perfect.
The extensive bibliography makes it possible to fact-check the author, showing that there are a couple times where the author presents a conclusion of his as fact. This doesn’t happen often, but in a book that otherwise so clearly differentiates and combines fact and opinion, it feels a touch dishonest. Connected to this is the fact that, although the author does not explicitly attempt to convert the reader to vegetarianism, this is a book about extreme injustice. As such, a self-righteous, moralistic tone occasionally permeates the writing. This isn’t bad by itself (Foer never really devolves into “preachy”) but it is jarring to read when you’re analyzing a factual argument the author made and he suddenly switches to telling an emotional anecdote.
These are annoying flaws, but they do not dilute the shocking overall message of the book: Upwards of 90% of the time you put meat into your mouth, you are enabling the inhumane torture of animals.
This is How it Begins
Hey.
My name's Patrick and I am a teen book-lover. It occurred to me that there is a dearth of commentary and reviews on teen literature by teens.
I aim to correct that. This blog will be a repository of my thoughts and/or reviews of pretty much any book I feel like talking about.
Most of that, though not all, is teen lit, which is the area most sorely in need of attention anyway. The first review coming up was written for my school paper, though that in no way diminishes its value. :P
Anyway, I hope anyone reading this blog takes something away from it, even if it is just whether or not they should read a certain book.
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