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Showing posts from August, 2019

"Perdido Street Station" by China Mieville (published 2000)

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Oh Gods, jabber, Devil's Tail, damn. This book is the best I've read this year. Though -  I'd recommend "Perdido Street Station" to those who are already partial to fantasy, fairy-tales, and science fiction, because the entire novel is heavily steeped in those genre elements and it's an extremely strong brew; a thick and boasty blend, yet a sweet and tart mix of character-driven action, fast-paced at over seven-hundred pages that pulsate with anthropomorphic creatures, evil monsters, a brilliant and non-conforming scientist, beautifully winged-bug maidens, a seedy underworld, a corrupt bureaucracy, sentient A.I. robotrons, pretentious art-world snobs, a hellish brothel of indescribable, sinful creatures and so. much. more.  I'll begin with Isaac, the main character, our passionate scientist unaccepted by his fellows because, well, he's a bit *avant-garde* for his discipline. His thing: Crisis Theory. He's been working on it for some time, but

"Neverwhere" by Neil Gaiman (published 2009)

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"Neverwhere" is the first book I've read by Neil Gaiman and I thoroughly enjoyed following the main character, Richard Mayhew: a guy down on his luck a billion times over due to his naivety and weirdly optimistic nihilism (perhaps a more sufficient term would be: apathy). Admittedly, Gaiman's style is decidedly not literary (IMHO - at least not here), and I think "Neverwhere" could undoubtedly pass for a teen or YA novel. I couldn't tick off more than one star for that complaint, though. Part of that is because Richard is a genuinely special character. His whole problem within this story - which I found extremely relatable - is that he cannot seem to accept the fact that his old life, his "normal" life, his previous "reality" has been taken from him because of a chance meeting. His choice, to basically help a dying creature on the streets of London (her name is Door, I believe she's an elf), completely changes his entire notio

"Classic Japanese Fairy-Tales: Volume II" by Mimei Ogawa, translated by J.D. Wisgo

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Translated from the Japanese, this collection of eight fairy-tales by Mimei Ogawa is full of delicate renderings that illuminate as well as sooth the harshness of life. How do we begin to bridge the gap between forced enemies? Or, what should we do with an enchanted remedy only good for one dose? There isn't a nice and neat ending to all of these (for example, "The Fishmonger Woman"), further supporting the theory that "happily-ever-after" is not a necessary component of the fairy-tale. Rather, the words that have been carefully translated by J.D. Wisgo from the pen of a deceased writer offers a brief and beautiful glimpse into moments of life that have been slowed down for the pleasure of contemplation. Wisgo fills each word with a sensitivity that reaches deep into an older culture that thrives today, yet is more hidden than ever before, like sketches or outlines of a world without its distractions; see "The Dog, the Man, and the Flower", just a

"The Pleasure of the Text" by Roland Barthes (published 1975)

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Many parts I know I love, many parts I know I don't yet understand. A lot has to do with the undoing of jargon (first to understand the jargon, then to throw it away), so as to make room for things *as is*, finally allowing for a plurality of meaning. This was translated from French and you can tell. It's part of its charm. A book to be read again and again and again. Other than that, I'm speechless.

"The Unlimited Dream Company" by J.G. Ballard (published 1979)

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In terms of an outright, obvious religious unveiling, "The Unlimited Dream Company" (1979) reminds me of a project similar to Darren Aronofsky's film "Mother!" (2017). However, they cannot be any more different.  "The Unlimited Dream Company" tells a perplexing story about a man named Blake, a man who has grandiose ideas about himself that are fantasical and insane, and definitely what psychologists might note as an "inflated ego". Blake knows this and he can't do anything about it. One day he decides to steal an aircraft and pilot it. He does. He crashes. He finds himself in this mysterious yet wonderful suburb of London, right along the River Thames, called Shepperton. There he falls in love with everyone and everything, in a weird sexual and/or platonic way, wanting to infuse with the entire place a newfound magic he acquired from the crash: a power and magic that allows him to create beautiful dreamscapes of anthropomorphism and