Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts

Monday, 8 June 2015

Fifty Shades of Grey



Book 24 of 2015 is Fifty Shades of Grey by E L James.

I attempted to read this when it first came out and was a big deal. My attempted failed about 50 pages in when I couldn't stand the overly simplistic immature female character bored me. As I passed page 50 this time, I felt the same but pushed through it because a couple of my friends insisted that I shouldn't write off a book as rubbish if I had never read the whole thing.

So, I read it.

The writing is still rubbish and the story is predictable. I've read better erotic fiction. Think Delta of Venus. This is not a series I will continue.

To counter that though, there were a few things I liked. I liked the way it ended. It is the first time in the entire book that I had any respect for the main character and that is tragic in itself.

The understanding of BDSM is also simplistic. The word simplistic describes this book in all its dimensions and it doesn't have that many dimensions. The implication that an abused child becomes a BDSM enthusiast is a correlation that I openly challenge.

In the end, I will put this in the group of at least people are reading something books. It is entertaining enough but not a book I would recommend or a series I will pursue. Now my criticism is based on having read more than 50 pages. It was an easy read. Simplistic.

1 stinging red welt out of 5.

Should I read this? There are better examples from this genre so, no.
What did I learn? Reading the first 50 pages of a book is enough to write it off.

Sunday, 17 May 2015

The Sea of Tranquility



Book 19 of 2015 is The Sea of Tranquility by Katja Millay.

I picked this book up because it is one of those five star rated best sellers that sits in the teen fiction section. I figured it would be an easy read and it had a female protagonist who wasn't saving the world or even herself. My hopes weren't high when I read the reviews calling it the best book ever. That usually results in messes like The Da Vinci Code and 50 Shades of Grey so I entered carefully and identifying all my exits.

This book elicited many distinct and extreme reactions from me - both good and not so good.

It is written in the teenage voices of an 18 year old girl and a 17 year old boy. There is the usual angst with the characters acting like no one has ever gone through what they have gone through and the author does justify this by making their drama pretty damn awful. Even adults would break in those situations so it's not just "my sparkly vampire boyfriend doesn't get on with my werewolf bestie." It is more than that.

The writing is simple and lyrical. The challenge is whether you can get past the teenage angst and ridiculousness and hear the message being portrayed. I think that message is "no matter how we are broken, we can be fixed if we decide we want to be."

That is the maturity in this book but it is so wrapped in all other pretences and it takes away from it.

3.5 angsty teenagers out of 5.


Should I read this? Only if you are open to the idea that a story set in the wrong generation can teach you something.
What did I learn? I am a very broken individual but maybe not forever. I always thought it was forever.

Sunday, 30 March 2014

The Lieutenant


My eighth book of 2014 is The Lieutenant by Kate Grenville. This is the best book I have read this year and Australians should have to read this. It is fiction but based in facts around the First Fleet.

The story is so relevant to recent events in my life that I related to the point of tears. Even if you aren't where I am in a place of hopelessness and acceptance, you will find this book brilliant.

Without the usual guilt you get from tales of the English meeting the original Australians, this book bases the history we all know in compassion.

You will see that world and moment in time through the eyes of a physicist who falls in love with a black girl but can not love her because he has made a commitment to a life that he chose before he discovered who he was.

There is a scene in the book where the protagonist realises that he didn't find the person he was until he met this amazingly brilliant woman who he could be himself with. As if he became a person because she accepted and expected he was that. They shared a love of language and a great intellect but existed in a time and place where it was not allowed. They shared a mutual respect.

There is so much more to this book than a love story. There is a love of science and of history. Kate Grenville is an amazing writer who took me there. There, where everyone should go.

Should I read this? Oh my goodness, yes.
What did I learn? Life is not something that you should let happen to you. You should experience it. Live it. Love through it. Fail. Get up again. Learn and learn some more. Regret nothing.

Friday, 18 October 2013

Moving Shadows

My friends think I am part cat or was one in my last life. This comes not from my need to lick my feet but more from my ability to sleep anywhere, at any time and in what looks to others like a very uncomfortable or unnatural position.

Last night, I fell asleep on the couch. My couch is my second bed and not a rare place to find me dozing at different hours and ends of the day. In this case, I'd dozed off around 8pm-ish while playing twelve simultaneous games of Words With Friends. This was one of those times when I zzz'd without actually dropping my phone on my head. Again like a cat, waking startled and looking for someone else to blame usually accompanies that ka-thump.

It was just on the pumpkin-turning hour when my mind was swimming between awake and asleep that the movement of the shadows on the wall seemed somehow wrong to me. That feeling of pulling yourself almost drowning through the surface of the water held me more on the sleepy side of awake. That further added to how much the shadows confused. Then my brain kicked in and it wasn't in that newly woken state but driven by an intravenous coffee with Red Bull hit of adrenaline. Bam!

Now I was awake but very still and lying where my mind had exploded but my body was only following limply. The shadows were still shadows. They were cast by the outside light through the two double paned windows and on to the opposing inside wall. My windows are tall and wide with a divider between each two paned set. That line was hard and fast in the shadow.

It took less time for me to realise why the shadows were changing than it did for me to regain full consciousness. Raw fear will do that to a person.

Moving slowly from one thinly curtained window to the next was the silhouette of a man. He bobbed towards the glass and then away as he avoided the potted plants that interrupted his irregular pacing back and forth.

Then my mind realised that he wasn't pacing. He was trying the different windows. The movable glass panels were shut to keep the horrid hay fever inducing pollen out and that was why I couldn't hear him rattling at the edges until I focused my senses on the sound.

My couch sits against the wall that the windows are in. The high green leathered back meant that I was hidden from his view. The lacy inner curtains were all that were drawn so he would have seen in but without any detail. That lack of detail meant he couldn't have seen me lying in a dark room snuggled in to the forrest green leather of the couch.

I was invisible.

I was invisible at least until I moved from the couch and then there was little doubt that he would see me. Even crawling across the floor wouldn't have protected me from view. Sometimes minimalism is not as convenient as it should be.

The window shook now. Not rattled like before. He was using force.

I shook in disagreement.

The shadow moved violently and a strained metallic aching sound groaned in my general direction. I felt safer because the windows were fighting back.

Then like a bad horror movie just after the scene where they say "let's split up" and actually go ahead with that idea, my mobile phone rang. It was very much a spring-loaded cat moment and if it wasn't for the shrill whistle of my Kill Bill ringtone that seems so funky in a crowded bar, my squeal would have been very obvious.

Every single thing in that moment froze. He froze. I froze. Everyone but the phone was taking this moment seriously.

Without really thinking it through, I picked up the phone and said very loudly "Hi Mum, I was just asleep. Are you almost here? I'm not ready yet but I will be."

With that, I jumped off the couch and casually walked to the light switch and turned all the lights on.

The shadows on the wall disappeared but I could still see his still body trying to hide behind the window divider. I continued to talk in a relaxed and booming voice as he fled.

My friend on the phone was freaking out a little as I calmly and numbly but with no breath or punctuation explained what had just happened. She was simultaneously dialling the police on her other mobile while she assisted my tripping sentences with profanity as punctuation.

It was all ok in the end. The combination of the defiant fighting windows, the opportune (for me) phone call and the Kill Bill soundtrack seemed to be enough to chase my shadow friend away.

Whether or not he returns, we can't yet know. I sure hope not.

One thing I am sure about is that I'll never wake to a worrying shadow and dismiss it as a trick of the tired mind again. And honestly, I'm not sure if that is a good or bad thing.

[Update: This is fiction written for Halloween]