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Book Reviews
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Dave Wallace14 March 2012
Ask anyone to name the twentieth century's most defining dystopian novel, and they'll probably give you one of two answers: Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" or George Orwell's "1984". However, after reading "We" for the first time, I'm beginning to suspect that Huxley and Orwell may be mere pretenders to Yevgeny Zamyatin's throne.
Written in 1921 as a critique of the Russian society in which Zamyatin was born and raised, "We" was banned in the author's home country for many decades, and was so incendiary that it ultimately led to him being expelled from his motherland.
Set in a far future in which nameless human beings live in a conformist society that brands them only with a letter and number, the story revolves around D-503, an engineer working on a spaceship designed to export the rigorous logic and ordered, mathematical thinking of this future society to other planets and galaxies. However, D-503's worldview is soon challenged by a mysterious, alluring female known as I-330, whose appearance leads D-503 to challenge his views and ultimately those of society's enigmatic leader, the Benefactor.
Whilst this setup sounds fairly conventional, it's Zamyatin's writing that truly brings the book's world and its characters to life. D-503's narration (the book's text is purported to be his journal, which has been kept as an artefact to be sent on the rocketship) uses harsh, clipped, mechanical language to convey his ruthlessly logical and mathematical thought processes, often making use of engineering metaphors to convey the character's practical, grounded nature.
But as D-503's mind is expanded by his experiences with I-330, we see his sentence construction become less ordered and his prose become looser, until the book eventually dissolves into a virtually stream-of-consciousness narrative that requires a fair amount of work on the part of the reader to keep up.
For those that persevere, however, we're treated to some highly imaginative ideas and evocative descriptions of a future society that often bears an uncomfortable resemblance to our own. Zamyatin may have written his book before the advent of television, but aside from this omission, everything feels eerily familiar: his descriptions of steel-and-glass skyscrapers, surveillance culture, biological warfare, and the commoditisation of sex all ring uncannily true today, marking the book out as remarkably prescient given that it's almost a century old.
Most of all, though, it's the author's daring challenge to the cult of conformity and the rejection of state control that makes it such an effective critique of society (especially given the context in which it was originally written).
Yes, there are some occasional passages that mark the book out as dated. For example, a short trip into space now seems more quaint than it does exciting, whilst the sex scenes (of which there are quite a few) come off as slightly prudish and reserved where they might once have felt risqué.
Nevertheless, this doesn't stop the book from standing as one of the great dystopian satires, and doesn't restrict its influence over the wealth of dystopian literature that followed it. Not only do Huxley's "Brave New World" and Orwell's "1984" lift plot points and characters from the book wholesale, but other great works of dystopian fiction - such as Ray Bradbury's "Farenheit 451", Kurt Vonnegut's "Player Piano", as well as George Lucas's "THX-1138" movie - also owe Zamyatin's magnum opus a huge debt in terms of their tone and ideas.
For those readers who think science-fiction is a thoroughly modern innovation, this book will be a revelation; for those who think that dystopian fiction begins and ends with Huxley and Orwell, this book will open their eyes; and for those who have any interest in how the rules of society affect our lives, and to what extent we should let our existence be dictated by the will of others, this book will be a provocative, inspiring call to arms. I can't recommend it highly enough. -
Dave Wallace05 March 2012
Allow me to preface this review by saying that I've never been a big reader of DC comics. I don't have the emotional attachment to their characters that you get from reading about them in your youth, I don't have the encyclopaedic knowledge of their history that I might have if I'd read their books for the last 20 or 30 years, and I simply don't have the love of their superheroes that I do for (say) those of Marvel Comics. All the more impressive, then, that the love-letter to DC comics that is Darwyn Cooke's New Frontier still manages to work pretty well for me.
The central conceit of the book is a strong one: showcasing the birth of the DC Universe as it occurred in "real time" - that is, with the events of the book taking place across the 1950s and '60s era of the characters' first publication. This allows Cooke to tie their origins to a solid historical foundation, showing the rise in prominence of the superhero genre in its real-world social context and making time for commentary on contemporary issues as diverse as the menace of Communism, the dawning of the nuclear age, and the growing momentum of the Civil Rights movement in the United States.
However, it's DC's vast pantheon of heroes who are the real stars of the show, and Cooke pays homage to the entire history of the DCU, from the Golden Age JSA all the way through to the Silver Age heroes of America's "New Frontier". Every character appears at the same point in time as they first made their debut in DC comics, and Cooke plays up the importance of the politics of that bygone era with some well-conceived and insightful plot points such as the Dark Knight Returns-esque use of Superman and Wonder Woman as government-sanctioned pawns in the Indochina War, Hal Jordan's distressing experiences as a young soldier in Korea, or the hounding of the Golden Age JSA by the House of Un-American Activities Committee to the point where they are forced to disband.
Brief character sketches fill us in on important information, and help to establish the large cast of New Frontier fairly quickly. Cooke has a lot on his plate here, but he manages to present his own take on both established and more obscure heroes efficiently, from the clash of viewpoints as the kind-natured Superman and the Amazon warrior Wonder Woman discuss the best way to deal with the victims of war, to the out-and-out macho wartime action of The Losers, to the weird and wonderful Jack-Kirby-esque antics of the Challengers of the Unknown.
As the book's timeline progresses, we start to see the changing of the guard from the Golden Age to the Silver Age heroes, with Cooke's characters still reflecting the most significant social issues of the time: we see the black hero John Henry, who valiantly fights back against the KKK, paying the ultimate price for his decision to take a stand; we see test pilot (and Green-Lantern-to-be) Hal Jordan's reckless antics reflect the USA's desire to win the space-race at all costs; and we see the Martian Manhunter grapple with the best and worst aspects of humanity, with the racist and anti-communist undertones of 1950s society playing into John Jones' personal dilemma of whether to leave the planet or stay behind and make a new life for himself despite his alien roots.
As more and more characters are added to the mix, a plot involving a giant alien menace is also outlined, and the book culminates in an epic showdown which harnesses the full potential of DC's entire universe of superheroes, followed by a neat epilogue which ties everything together (narrated by President John F. Kennedy, no less) and culminates in the first appearance of the Justice League of America. Taken as a whole, it's a wonderful tour of DC's earlier years which feels as much like a book about the maturation of the United States of America as it does the birth of the modern DC Universe.
When it comes to Cooke's artwork, the influences are obvious. The large, 'widescreen' panels (which are uniformly applied, three-per-page) and the simple, strong, clean lines betray Cooke's background in animation, but there's also a strong Jack Kirby sensibility which shines through every square jaw, every squint, and every squirm-inducing tentacled sea monster that Cooke brings to the page. The thick, confident linework is reminiscent of Kirby in his prime, and there's also a hint of the early Fleischer Superman cartoons (with Cooke even going so far as to feature one of them in his story) in the retro, stylised manner in which Cooke brings the DCU's superheroes to life.
Dave Stewart's colours are bright and vivid, but never overly flashy, complementing the linework of every panel rather than drawing attention to themself unnecessarily. The boldness and strength of Stewart's palette matches the clearly-defined 1960s style of Cooke's designs, and the colourist plays a huge part in setting the tone of each scene, with some particularly outstanding moments - such as the beautiful snowstorm in Las Vegas, or the thrilling outer-space rescue by Superman - owing a lot of their effectiveness to his input. The visual style of New Frontier may take a while to get used to, especially for readers who are used to more realistic, modern sensibilities in their superhero art, but it suits the story that Cooke is telling to a tee.
If there's any flaw to be found with the book, it's that there's a little too much time spent building up characters at the expense of the slow-moving and fairly simple overall plot - and even then, some of the key players receive fairly short shrift. The sheer scale of the undertaking means that it's impossible to flesh out every one of the superheroes who eventually gather to defeat their common enemy, and Cooke wisely avoids spending too much time on the familiar big guns (Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman), preferring to concentrate his efforts on exploring characters like Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter and The Flash. Still, he leaves little time for other minor personalities to be developed, with Green Arrow and Adam Strange arriving to the party fully-formed but virtually unintroduced, and a surreal tangential scene on the moon which features the Spectre, Dr. Fate, Captain Marvel and Zatanna making little sense in the context of the story. Of course, for those who are well-versed in DC lore, these omissions won't be as much of a problem - but it did detract from the story slightly for me.
As is the norm for these Absolute editions, this oversized, slipcased hardcover presents the story beautifully. There's a wealth of extras, including a detailed, scene-specific commentary by Cooke, with numerous reproduced extracts from the original comics which featured the characters who appear in New Frontier. There's also a explanation of Cooke's creative process, some comparisons of the evolution of certain pages (from sketches, to pencils, to inks, to the final coloured and lettered page), and a huge sketchbook of concept designs, promotional artwork, the original series' covers, along with some intriguing "deleted scenes" and rejected layouts. There's also a stunning picture of Superman drawn in full-on Kirby mode, which makes me wonder how the book might have looked if Cooke had gone with his original impulse to draw the entire book in this style. I can't fault the design of the book, all the way down to the garish and vibrant images that adorn the slipcase, and any readers who are already fans of New Frontier are going to adore this package. -
Dave Wallace19 February 2012
Attention for this Greek epic has risen in recent years, following 2007's release of the movie adaptation of Frank Miller's take on the ancient battle of Thermopylae, in which a handful of Spartans attempted to hold off the advances of a gigantic army of Persians. If that sounds like great material for a comicbook, it is - but Miller adds some nuances about ancient Greek politics and some subtleties of characterisation which enable it to stand as more than just a five-issue fight sequence.
Although so unrelentingly masculine and macho that the book almost devolves into self-parody, Miller's tale succeeds in creating an accessible (if stylised) take on Greek society, conjouring imagery which would befit The Ilyad or The Odyssey in his depiction of the Spartan males whose function is to go war in defence of their principles and their country.
Whilst Miller builds the Spartans up as civilised protectors of the rule of law who are required to hold their ground against a horde of bloodthirsty and corrupt savages, there's a certain ambiguity to their mindset. They are educated men, but there's a certain eagerness to fight, and they show a callous disregard for non-Spartans. However, their bombastic sense of honour and willingness to defend their country will probably resonate with many readers, tapping into something quite primal in the male mindset which should make the story involving for anyone who enjoys the excesses of Miller's more traditional superhero fare.
There are some interesting insights into Greek customs and political structure, as well as an emphasis on the importance of word-of-mouth storytelling as an educational and motivational tool in ancient Greece, but they're very much background details of a story which is fairly one-note once it gets going. That's not to say that it is without merit, however, and the continuing Spartan battles at the "Hot Gates" against wave after wave of opposition eventually build to a crescendo which offers a bittersweet conclusion to the story, rendering it somehow more powerful in retrospect.
Miller's artwork is probably a more important storytelling tool that the text of 300, defining its characters visually with some striking designs. The black-and-gold rendition of the pseudo-deity Xerxes is particularly memorable, conveying the importance of wealth to the Spartans' enemy (as well as something of their exotic nature).
The discipline of the Spartans is reinforced by Miller's intentionally repetitive depictions of their strictly regimented forces. But among the similar depictions of these soldiers, Miller also shapes some more monstrous and fantastical creations, such as the pivotal disfigured Spartan who cannot fight, but proves to be an important player in the battle nonetheless.
Fans of the artist's previous work will be pleased to see that Miller's love of negative space and extreme contrast in lighting is still in evidence: indeed, the art style falls somewhere between Miller's 'Sin City' work and his 'Dark Knight Strikes Again', probabl ending up bearing most resemblance to 'Elektra Lives Again'. A lot of that is doubtless due to the input of colourist Lynn Varley. Varley's contribution subtly enhances scenes like the attack of the ghostly Immortals with a pale colour wash, and adds depth and atmosphere to vignettes such as Leonida's boyhood encounter with a wolf, a powerful, brilliantly-illustrated sequence which shows the reader why the King would have the respect of his men, rather than telling them.
When the fighting does occur, it's far more bloody and shocking than Sin City's highly stylised violence, with its flailing swords, shields and spears really conveying the chaotic, gruesome and relentless nature of armed warfare during that period of history. The book's presentation of the artwork is fantastic, binding Miller's pages in an unusual horizontal hardback format which makes it a reasonably pricey investment (as well as making it very difficult to find a suitable place for it on your shelf!).
Through the use of modern language and contemporary illustration techniques, Frank Miller's 300 brings the battle of Thermopylae to life in a surprisingly uncomplicated book (albeit one which hints at a greater depth in some of its details - I wouldn't be surprised if Miller was something of a Greek History buff). 300 is undeniably pretty and makes for an entertaining read with its visceral, bloody action which exudes testosterone from every pore; however, those who enjoy Miller's work for its ability to deconstruct or reinvent genre comics (with Dark Knight Returns, he tackled the superhero; with Sin City, the pulpy noir thriller) may find this an unusually straightforward read with aesthetic attractions which don't quite justify the higher-than-usual price tag. -
The First Escape (Dopple Ganger Chronicles)
Anonymous17 February 2012
It is good.
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Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (Batman (DC Comics Paperback))
Dave Wallace12 February 2012
Frank Miller's most celebrated work - 1986's Batman: The Dark Knight Returns - is widely regarded as a turning point for superhero comics. However, it's also such a significant milestone in the history of Batman that it has cast a long shadow over all subsequent interpretations of the character, in both the comics and the hit Hollywood movies. As a result, it's perhaps difficult for modern audiences to appreciate just how revolutionary it would have seemed at the time for Miller to adopt such a grim and gritty approach to the Dark Knight, compared to the lighter and more colourful visions of the character that preceded this story.
Luckily, however, the visceral, immediate quality of Miller's writing and the sophisticated effectiveness of his art ensure that the book is just as impressive today as it was 25 years ago.
People often cite "DKR" as a masterpiece of superhero deconstruction - and rightly so - but it's executed with such an obvious love and affection for the genre conventions that it's clear that Miller isn't trying to belittle the work of previous creators in the field. Rather, he's applying new standards of psychological realism and complexity, taking his examination of what makes a superhero tick to deeper, darker places than mainstream comic books had gone before him.
Miller is careful not to pick Batman's psyche apart too comprehensively, lest the entire edifice shatter and the writer have to face up to the fact that his protagonist is ultimately a grown man who chooses to run around in a grey-and-blue Bat-costume in his evenings. However, he gets under the hero's skin in new, innovative ways, giving us insight into Batman's thought processes in great detail, whilst also daring to allow compelling elements of self-doubt to creep in.
In casting an aged, 40-something Bruce Wayne in the title role, Miller removes the safety net of eternal youthfulness that can rob ongoing, episodic superhero series of any sense of jeopardy. The threats faced by this fallible Batman feel very real, and the relationship with his new (and female) sidekick, Robin, allows Miller to examine the sometimes-reckless actions of Bruce from a more grounded point of view. Even if the kind of maturity and complexity that Miller brings to his superheroics is more commonplace today than it might have been in 1986, the way in which Batman returns to his glory days, empowering himself to take on the world, is just as resonant.
To complain that DKR feels dated today due to its 1980s references and period detail is to ignore the bigger picture of Miller's story. In many ways, the story is just as relevant to recent history, with the bumbling, buffoonish President Reagan sacrificing freedom for security in his pursuance of an unwinnable war against domestic terrorism in a manner which would make more recent Presidential administrations proud. A key element of the story's plot is Bruce's growing political awareness, and an acknowledgement that the traditional superheroic manner of dealing with crime and criminals is ineffective and overly simplistic: that society's ills can't be cured with a fistfight and a smug one-liner. It may be territory which has been covered by other books since, but it's never been integrated as flawlessly with the action and spectacle as it is here.
In addition to the political elements, Miller introduces a lot of subtle social commentary and media satire, parodying the over-simplified, dumbed-down soundbite culture and the hollow cult of celebrity in a manner which now seems more pertinent than ever. Miller's decision to accomplish lengthy exposition through TV newsreaders and talk-shows gives him a perfect window on the world through which he can make some pointed comments about the world, rooting Batman in a reality that we can relate to and showing why Miller feels that society is broken. The creation of an impenetrable slang for the Gotham gangs and the youthful malevolence of many of his thuggish criminals ("A killer who isn't even old enough to shave") successfully creates a chilling threat which feels more like a portentous warning that a mere complaint about the state of the world today. DKR is undeniably a product of its times, but it's also an acute critique of 1980s society, and it's quite worrying to see how accurate Miller's dystopian predictions have turned out to be, 25 years down the line.
The artwork shows a massive leap forwards from Frank Miller's earlier work, an evolution which is as much due to the sophisticated delicacy of Lynn Varley's colours as it is the change in Miller and inker Klaus Janson's linework. Working to a fairly strict layout of 16 panels per page, Miller's pacing is perfect: the storytelling is dense and fast-moving when it needs to be, but occasionally slows right down to examine key dramatic plot points in great detail. The imagery of Miller's story has come to define the character ever since, such as the stark manner in which the murder of Bruce's parents is presented, or the fearful darkness of his childhood fall into the Batcave. (Check out Christopher Nolan's "Batman Begins" movie for evidence of just how influential these sequences have been).
There are more iconic moments in this single story than most creators could hope to achieve in a lifetime - and whether it's the early rebirth of Batman (baptised in a thunderstorm), the grim final scene featuring the Joker, the first appearance of the batmobile, Batman's showdown (and subsequent rematch) with the mutant leader, Superman's survival of a nuclear explosion as he drains the earth of its solar power, or the climactic showdown between Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent in Crime Alley, the power of Miller's storytelling is inescapable. If you've never read the story before, ignore the few detractors who claim that the book only has worth as a product of its time and get hold of it at the earliest opportunity. And if you're already familiar with the book, it's time for another read of a miniseries which only seems to improve with age. -
Dave Wallace02 February 2012
Watchmen is to comics what the Beatles' "White Album" is to pop music. Both are highly influential works of art which are lauded by virtually everyone that experiences them, and both still struggle to be equalled by contemporary artists even decades after their creation. (Not for want of trying, however, as evidenced by DC Comics' recent announcement of a series of 'Watchmen' prequel comics to be published later this year).
It's also arguable that both Watchmen and the White Album took a nascent art form which was regarded as juvenile, immature and crude (for the Beatles it was pop music specifically; in Watchmen's case, comic books in general - but with a particular focus on superheroes), and elevated it to a higher plane, paving the way for all who followed them, yet still overshadowing subsequent works to this day.
Simply put, Watchmen is one of the few comics which aficionados of the medium are virtually unanimous in declaring a must-read, and its much-mooted recent appearance on Time magazine's list of the twentieth century's most important novels cemented its position as the first major turning point in the long journey towards the recognition of comic books as a 'legitimate' art form.
Despite the apparent simplicity of its superhero roots, the book defies easy categorisation: on a base level, it's a reasonably straightforward flights 'n' tights epic which sees a group of washed-up heroes of the past face up to their own complicated histories, attempting to recapture some of their past glory at the same time as a powerful conspiracy threatens to undermine society itself.
There's also a lot of human drama in the book, and there's as much attraction in seeing the complex web of relationships between the heroes unfold as there is in seeing them struggle against the underlying threat of the series.
Yet Watchmen is deceptively complex, revealing secrets, nuances and deeper levels of meaning many years after over-familiarity would have exhausted the appeal of lesser works. Having devoured the book multiple times, it's telling that each new read feels like a slightly different experience, as the elements that are most striking at first glance soon give way to the book's less obvious subtexts and layered messages.
It's easy to see the story as an allegory which examines the way in which power can corrupt, and which acts as a cautionary tale for a human race that, at the time that the book was originally published in the 1980s, appeared to be paving the way for its own demise more effectively than ever before.
Indeed, there's a notably greater attempt at verisimilitude to be found in Watchmen than in most superhero comics, with only one major event setting the book's universe apart from the real world: in Watchmen, it's the creation of the omnipotent, godlike Dr. Manhattan which acts as the stone which is thrown into the stream of time, setting the reality presented in the book on a different, yet parallel course to our own.
Historical events of the 1970s and 1980s are even explicitly referenced, albeit with twists such as the deployment of Dr. Manhattan in support of the USA's war efforts in Vietnam, and the passing of laws to outlaw costumed vigilantes. There's a heavy undercurrent of Cold War angst running throughout the book, as well as a hypertextual commentary on the story's themes which is provided by the comic-within-a-comic that is Tales of the Black Freighter, a pulpy pirate yarn which also functions as a dark, ominous musing on humanity's capacity for self-destruction.
In the original pitch for the book (which can be found at the back of this "Absolute" edition), Alan Moore claims to reject the notion that a comic book universe needs to be close to our own and easy to relate to in order for readers to find it involving. However, in examining the more realistic implications that the presence of superheroes might have on society, and in exploring his characters' personalities and motivation in far greater depth than anything that had been attempted in the genre up to that point, Moore actually creates a fantasy which is far more relevant and culturally significant than the escapism that had been provided by his peers for so long.
The prose endpapers that accompany each of the 12 individual Watchmen comics collected here reinforce the reality of Moore's fictional universe, presenting extracts from books, magazine articles and interviews which give us additional information about the story and its characters, enriching the already detailed world that the writer has created.
It's interesting to note that Moore had originally intended to populate this book with existing DC characters rather than his own creations, and there are obvious elements of those characters which have been retained - but the commercial imperatives that ultimately restricted him from doing so may actually have made Watchmen even more successful: without any previous baggage, Moore is free to do as he likes with his cast of characters and their world, pushing the limits of what can be done in the genre - and the mixture of childish hero archetypes with a darker, more realistic and more complex edge makes the book an excellent metaphor for the coming-of-age of comic books themselves.
To some extent, Watchmen's enduring success has been due to the surprising realisation that a comic book can be constructed and executed with as much complexity and maturity as a prose novel. Many of Moore's writing techniques are not particularly innovative or inventive, but they mark one of the first times that such sophistication in storytelling was brought to the medium of comic books, and their application in the field revolutionised the way people see comics.
It's surprising, then, that this new "Absolute" edition is the first time that Watchmen has really been given the deluxe treatment - if you don't count the rare 'Graphitti' edition published years ago, which has been highly sought-after for many years due to the wealth of extra material which it contained. Thankfully, those extras are all reproduced here, and in addition to the oversized, luxuriously bound and slipcased Absolute format, with its high-quality paper and remastered colouring, it really is the finest presentation that the book has ever received.
In addition to the original twelve issues, there are afterwords by both Moore and Gibbons which give some insight into how the project came into being and what a mammoth achievement it was for both creators. Moore's piece is particularly interesting, shedding some light on his feelings towards superhero comics and what he wanted to achieve with the book. There's also a copy of Moore's original proposal for the book which goes into detail about the themes and tone of the series, showing a remarkable self-awareness concerning just how mould-breaking Watchmen would turn out to be.
The years (and decades!) which have passed since Watchmen's publication may have seen superhero comics stagnate to a certain extent, and as a genre it certainly hasn't overcome its simplistic, childish trappings to the extent that readers in 1986 might have hoped. However, to read Watchmen again is to reignite the spark of a suggestion that superheroics and sophistication don't have to be mutually exclusive concepts, that superhero comics might still have something profound and important to say, and that there may be yet more new ground to be broken in future by someone who can take to concept and do something genuinely fresh and innovative with it. Until that day, we'll have to be content for this book to continue to reign as the pinnacle of the genre. -
Mr. Small (Mr. Men Classic Library)
J.B. McGillicuddy30 January 2012
Although Roger Hargreaves' "Mr Small" was originally published in 1972, it truly is a story that resonates with the particularly difficult circumstances that people living in 2012 are currently experiencing. Hargreaves has, with "Mr Small", used the medium of children's literature to explore the despair associated with unemployment and to deconstruct society's image of the working class everyman. This is a story rich in moral and philosophical detail and thus it is a story that needs to be told.
The eponymous "Mr Small" is struggling on the fringes of society as he strives to succeed in a hugely unequal employment landscape where unscrupulous employers require him to submit to a series of jobs for which he is woefully unsuitable. Despite his best efforts, poor "Mr Small" lacks both the basic knowledge and the skills necessary to accomplish any of the occupations which society deems fit for him. While the rest of the "Mr Men" series could perhaps be accused of demonstrating social conservatism, here Roger Hargreaves is clearly offering a stark exposé of an education system that leaves people unable to hold down even the most basic of jobs. In a workplace that demands ever more skills and mechanised workers, what place is there for our token everyman?
The answer to this question, from Hargreaves perspective anyway, is clearly greater state intervention. The state is here personified in Mr Robertson, a friend of "Mr Small" and all of the other little people, who seeks to create a new field of employment for our embattled hero. Unfortunately, Hargreaves here misses the chance to advocate for industrialisation and an increase in domestic productivity, instead opting to have "Mr Small" find potential salvation in a creative profession. Will this subliminal pushing of media studies never cease? Ultimately, even this outcome is far from happy as "Mr Small" seems able to offer nothing more than the story of his own tragic failures. His prospects for the future are clearly built on a foundation of sand.
Roger Hargreaves' "Mr Small" is a searing indictment of sizeist hegemony and the iniquities of the class system and, as such, is a warning to all of society: If "Mr Small" cannot be saved, then what hope is there for the rest of us? -
Antwon Itsher29 January 2012
David Nicholls sure does know how to write, doesn't he?
One Day starts you out in the opening pages in Edinburgh, 1988, on the Fifteenth Of July - St. Swithin's Day.
St. Swithin's Day isn't a day I had ever heard of before, but that only added to the romance of the novel.
A sense of mystery and intrigue of what would unfold in the pages before me.
The love between the two characters Emma and Dexter is a pure joy to read.
Nicholls' has a real power over words, and it is more than obvious to see why his books are so very, very popular. He is a writer, plain and simple. Writing is what he knows, and writing is what he is Good at.
There are times when you'll be frustrated with these characters, with Dexter in particular. He becomes a womaniser, diving in and out of relationships as well as bedrooms as he pleases, with little regard for how his life is affecting those of the ones he loves and who love him back.
Emma, on the other hand, is much more reserved. And it is with her that we fall in love. She is precocious, she is intelligent, she is a marvel to read about, and you can't help but hope that she gets her happy ending.
I refuse to spoil a good book for anyone, so I will have to stop myself from any further discussion, and tell you simply that you must read the rest of the book to find out precisely what happens between the two. But I will tell you this before I finish this review: theirs is a love like almost no other. Nicholls has an ability like very few writers do today, and the comparisons he deserves lie with centuries past, in writers like Shakespeare and Tennyson. -
The Hunger Games Trilogy Box Set
Phil Winters25 January 2012
Two books through this great trilogy and really enjoying it so far! One more to go, can't wait to see how it all comes down in the end!!
(And just wanted to say thank you to Find-Book for such a good comparison site that let me get the collection at such a cheap price - really, really, really appreciated!) -
Jane Weathers23 January 2012
This Human Season is a tragedy unlike any I've come across. Set in a prison in Northern Ireland known as The Maze, or Long Kesh, Louise Dean's novel tells the stories of two families in and outside the prison leading up to the hunger strike that took place in the prison, in real life, at the end of 1980 and the start of 1981.
Because of the true-to-life nature of the events Dean describes, the stories of the two families is that much more harrowing. The novel revolves largely around a mother, Kathleen, whose son is one of the prisoners about to go on strike, and a British prison guard, John, who works on the block Kathleen's son is incarcerated in.
Dean's command of prose is remarkable, and the effort that she has put into researching these real-life events is always evident in the text. We are treated to the insights of a mother whose family is falling apart, and it seems there is little she can do to effect a change. Her husband is an alcoholic who revels in living in fictional stories of his past; her son is a political prisoner in a Northern Irish prison during a time of deep political turmoil; she has one daughter who has already abandoned the family and moved abroad; another daughter who she cannot connect with nor relate to; and a younger son who idolises his older brother and aspires to join him in prison. Kathleen's is a bleak life that cannot help but slowly break your heart.
John's half of the novel is similarly expertly written, capturing wonderfully and thus also tragically the story of a British prison guard working at a time when his fellow British colleagues are being murdered on the streets in reaction to the incarceration of the Irish prisoners.
The politics of the novel run deep, because that is precisely how deep they run in reality. But one does not need a thorough understanding of the history between Britain and Ireland - both Northern and the Republic - in order to appreciate the tale Dean tells in This Human Season. The title says it all; it is a story that speaks of humanity, and that is a universal that we can all understand. These are human stories we find in Kathleen and John, and Dean makes her characters so easy to relate to. It is a novel in no uncertain terms that has tragedy at its core, but it is not without its moments of hope, that perhaps things will not always be this way. Dean truly cements herself with this novel as one of the best writers in contemporary English literature. It is a powerful second novel, and it is quite unlike anything I have ever had both the pleasure and sadness of reading before. It is perfect.
