Wow, it's been a while since I've posted. I didn't realize. I have read books. I promise.
On with the show...
This book was quite an entertaining read. I read it in two days, which is not easy for me, and that tells me I enjoyed it. I like quirky characters. I like fantastic situations and supernatural phenomena. I like adolescent protagonists. I like book series...es. I just might read the sequel. I am giving this book a B-.
Why a B-? Didn't I just say it entertained me? Didn't it have a mixture of many things I love? Yep. But...adulthood and literary criticism have set in. I have (shudder) expectations now. Imperfections bother me unless the rest of the story is so strong it carries me beyond these cracks in the foundation and I don't feel I have to hurdle over them myself. A few of my quibbles with the book are minor yet troubling. One is purely based on what I've come to desire when I read fantasy or magic or what have you. Actually, I could probably blame Harry Potter. Anyway, here are the major pros and cons of Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children:
Pro #1: A fleshed out protagonist. I like him. He's normal yet not, logical yet not, young yet intelligent.
Pro #2: A great setting. I love WWII stories. I love European stories. Though the book begins in Florida, the series is clearly going to be set in mostly Europe.
Pro #3: I felt satisfied by the easy but still clever puzzles, such as what one of the "peculiars" draws and where it clearly is, even though the heroes don't know where it is yet.
Con #1: Continuity! The main character would do something, a day would pass, and he would say, "The man I met this morning..." No! You met him yesterday! Or how incongruent (that is so a word, why is it underlined by my Spellcheck?) the whole timeline is, period. Or when the main character has his hands tied behind his back, but then he rolls up his pants (without being untied!) and then he's being led by a rope which would indicate his hands are in front of him, so how did all this happen? Am I supposed to infer they untied him so he could remove his shoes, then they decided to tie his hands in front? These are just a few examples of the continuity issues.
Con #2: Caricature. Some characters are just extremely stereotyped. That's not always a bad thing, but here it almost made me put down the book at one point. That point came when the wise old Miss Peregrine herself rips our protagonist a new asshole because of something she should know he wouldn't know not to do. And then we find out later she does the same thing he did! And it isn't ironic. I also found the unemotional relationship between the protagonist and his parents disappointing. And convenient. And I don't like anything in literature done for convenience.
Con #3: The big one. My own problem, really, and I know this and I'm fine with that. I...don't like it anymore when I feel like fantastic things are random for the coolz. Why did the monsters look the way they did? I understand the event that turned them into monsters, but why those particular shapes, sizes, tentacles, teeth, etc.? I know why the author chose the "superpowers" of each of the kids (based on real photographs he has come across). But somehow even then their powers seem...random. The author says in an interview included in my edition that sometimes he forced photographs into the novel because they were just too cool. That made some characters feel...forced. I know it's nitpicky. I know I've crossed over to some dark side that can't just shut up and go with it. But it is what it is.
My friend and I were talking about Haruki Murakami's 1Q84 one day and she asked me to explain the point of the father's side story and the "town of cats." I can't explain it. But something in my gut tells me Murakami did not just include that part for the coolz. I can feel it's meaning. Even if I can't explain it. I want things to have meaning even if I don't know the meaning myself. I feel like a lot of Miss Peregrine's is just randomness with no metaphor. Ugh, I'm beginning to need metaphor. What's wrong with me?
Anyway, it took me way longer than necessary to write this. Hopefully soon I will read a book that completely blows me away.
Showing posts with label B Grades. Show all posts
Showing posts with label B Grades. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Thursday, May 17, 2012
B Grades
Today would be a good day to continue my long-defunct series on why I give certain grades to the novels I read. I believe I'm up to 'B' now. Since I just gave a wonderful novel a grade of 'B' rather than what it would have scored had it ended better, maybe it's a good day to reflect on 'B' novels in general.
It's funny, because in movies a B-movie would be regarded as at once a failure and a success. B-movies fall into that one and only awesome category of "so bad it's good." It isn't quite so in my literary estimation. 'B' books are ones that are brilliantly written in some way or another but fall just shy of perfection.
'B' is for 'but.' In other words, "this book is amazing, but...." For instance, Paul Bowles's novel The Sheltering Sky is a beautiful depiction of the philosophy of life and fate, but I've often felt there was a missed opportunity with the character of Tunner. I feel like he just disappears from the novel, and while I know that was Bowles's intention, I was left unsatisfied. Remember, these grades are highly personal, so though I can step back and examine Bowles's motivations for the choices he made in the story, I still have a nagging feeling there could have been a different choice that would have been more satisfying.
That doesn't even mean I wouldn't give an 'A' grade to a book where something is left wholly unexplained. I think The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides is extremely brilliant, and it gets a hearty 'A' even though there is a feeling that the reader (and the collective narrator) will never truly understand what led these girls to their decisions. It's underlying, and the reader can infer, but I didn't finish the book feeling in any way dissatisfied with the events within.
'B' is for 'box.' Because the books that earn a 'B' grade go in a box. They don't go on my bookshelf because that's reserved for 'A' books, books on writing, journals, writing files, and miscellaneous items. The 'B' books go in a box because for some reason I can't let them go but I may not know why. Maybe, like Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar, I will slowly realize it meant more to me than I originally thought.
'B' is, then, for 'back again.' These are the books that seem to fester somewhere in the back of my mind, and it may be because they have flaws that I wish to examine. Very few books are presented perfectly, and any author worth her salt would say there is always room for revision, even eighty-five years down the line (though not revision from some prescriptive bullshit editors who co-wrote a certain 'on writing' book). These also may be the books that truly inspire, because where there are flaws there are opportunities for new writers to examine the other possiblities, what could have happened had the story taken the other fork in the road. Tunner becomes a new character, with a new name, but his story is carried forward. Tunner is 'back again.'
In the book I just finished, 1Q84, one of the main characters (Tengo) is a writer. He ghost-writes a novel with a seventeen-year-old girl and then decides to continue the story in his own new novel, fleshing out the world the seventeen-year-old presented and putting new characters into it. Tengo must have felt the original novel fell short of something, or at least that there was opportunity for exploration. Is there a good 'B'-word for 'exploration'?
Yes. 'B' is for 'beyond.' Beyond these characters and this particular story there is room to build. 'B' is also for 'building.' The story, like the mansion from Rose Red, isn't finished and may keep 'building' itself if only in the imaginations of those who have entered.
It's funny, because in movies a B-movie would be regarded as at once a failure and a success. B-movies fall into that one and only awesome category of "so bad it's good." It isn't quite so in my literary estimation. 'B' books are ones that are brilliantly written in some way or another but fall just shy of perfection.
'B' is for 'but.' In other words, "this book is amazing, but...." For instance, Paul Bowles's novel The Sheltering Sky is a beautiful depiction of the philosophy of life and fate, but I've often felt there was a missed opportunity with the character of Tunner. I feel like he just disappears from the novel, and while I know that was Bowles's intention, I was left unsatisfied. Remember, these grades are highly personal, so though I can step back and examine Bowles's motivations for the choices he made in the story, I still have a nagging feeling there could have been a different choice that would have been more satisfying.
That doesn't even mean I wouldn't give an 'A' grade to a book where something is left wholly unexplained. I think The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides is extremely brilliant, and it gets a hearty 'A' even though there is a feeling that the reader (and the collective narrator) will never truly understand what led these girls to their decisions. It's underlying, and the reader can infer, but I didn't finish the book feeling in any way dissatisfied with the events within.
'B' is for 'box.' Because the books that earn a 'B' grade go in a box. They don't go on my bookshelf because that's reserved for 'A' books, books on writing, journals, writing files, and miscellaneous items. The 'B' books go in a box because for some reason I can't let them go but I may not know why. Maybe, like Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar, I will slowly realize it meant more to me than I originally thought.
'B' is, then, for 'back again.' These are the books that seem to fester somewhere in the back of my mind, and it may be because they have flaws that I wish to examine. Very few books are presented perfectly, and any author worth her salt would say there is always room for revision, even eighty-five years down the line (though not revision from some prescriptive bullshit editors who co-wrote a certain 'on writing' book). These also may be the books that truly inspire, because where there are flaws there are opportunities for new writers to examine the other possiblities, what could have happened had the story taken the other fork in the road. Tunner becomes a new character, with a new name, but his story is carried forward. Tunner is 'back again.'
In the book I just finished, 1Q84, one of the main characters (Tengo) is a writer. He ghost-writes a novel with a seventeen-year-old girl and then decides to continue the story in his own new novel, fleshing out the world the seventeen-year-old presented and putting new characters into it. Tengo must have felt the original novel fell short of something, or at least that there was opportunity for exploration. Is there a good 'B'-word for 'exploration'?
Yes. 'B' is for 'beyond.' Beyond these characters and this particular story there is room to build. 'B' is also for 'building.' The story, like the mansion from Rose Red, isn't finished and may keep 'building' itself if only in the imaginations of those who have entered.
1Q84
I finished reading the novel 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami. It took quite a long time because it was 925 pages long. Which is fine by me; I love a good, long novel more than anything. I love being invested in the various characters and following multiple story lines. I like connecting dots and forming an image of a distinct time and place.
This novel was a dream as far as characters and pacing. Many readers would have found it too slow, too drawn out, and would most likely give up. Although I'm not sure that's true because once you get to a certain point you will develop a need to know how the story ends.
That would be it's one downfall, though. The ending was highly anticlimactic. I, in a way, knew that was coming because Murakami kept invoking Chekov's Gun (Anton Chekov's rule that once a gun is introduced into a story it has to be fired) and there was a palpable feeling throughout that Murakami would break that rule. He did, but I also expected at least a little more action for an ending, a little more story, than there was.
Overall I would give this book a high B+. It would have scored an easy A if there had been a little more to the ending because it was all too easy after 900 pages of suspense and tension.
This novel was a dream as far as characters and pacing. Many readers would have found it too slow, too drawn out, and would most likely give up. Although I'm not sure that's true because once you get to a certain point you will develop a need to know how the story ends.
That would be it's one downfall, though. The ending was highly anticlimactic. I, in a way, knew that was coming because Murakami kept invoking Chekov's Gun (Anton Chekov's rule that once a gun is introduced into a story it has to be fired) and there was a palpable feeling throughout that Murakami would break that rule. He did, but I also expected at least a little more action for an ending, a little more story, than there was.
Overall I would give this book a high B+. It would have scored an easy A if there had been a little more to the ending because it was all too easy after 900 pages of suspense and tension.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Two Books
1) Understanding Comcis by Scott McCloud. I would give this book a B. There was a part of me that was put off by the fact it was written as a comic book, and I don't know why but maybe because it made it feel choppy and underdevolped. But I really liked some of the things I learned, like "closure" and how the readers of any book fill in gaps between panels (for comic books) or paragraphs or sections or chapters. I like leaps of logic, remember, and McCloud makes the argument that comic book creators must, by simple definition of time and space and the juxtaposition of words and visual art, expect their readers to be able to make leaps and bounds. I really liked how McCloud made me feel like he knew he didn't need to talk down to his audience and he could expect a certain level of intelligence out of it.
2) The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein. Eh. It was good. It was interesting. It was reminscent of the original and of writers like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It had an older world feel to it. I liked how it reminded me how spooky something only hinted at can be, as opposed to full out monster descriptions dripping with blood and guts. It reminded me of why I find Stephen King's vampire stories so bland and his more subtle stories, like That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French, haunt me long afterwards. It's why I'm scared shitless by video games like Silent Hill but not scared in any way shape or form by games like Resident Evil. Anyway, back to Frankenstein. Eh. High C. I was turned off by all the politics. And I kept wanting to pronounce Frank-en-stine as Fraunk-en-steen. Love that movie.
2) The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein. Eh. It was good. It was interesting. It was reminscent of the original and of writers like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It had an older world feel to it. I liked how it reminded me how spooky something only hinted at can be, as opposed to full out monster descriptions dripping with blood and guts. It reminded me of why I find Stephen King's vampire stories so bland and his more subtle stories, like That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French, haunt me long afterwards. It's why I'm scared shitless by video games like Silent Hill but not scared in any way shape or form by games like Resident Evil. Anyway, back to Frankenstein. Eh. High C. I was turned off by all the politics. And I kept wanting to pronounce Frank-en-stine as Fraunk-en-steen. Love that movie.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The Magic Mountain
I'm done!
Okay, whew, that was a duesey. I'm not even going to pretend - it was a bit of a rough go. I'm not disputing Thomas Mann deserves the Nobel Prize for Literature or anything, but as with most books written by Nobel-winning authors, The Magic Mountain is so long and so dense with philosophy I can't remember a good deal of it. It's hands-down beautiful, and the details in it are insanely precise, and Mann must have been a genius with knowledge to beat the band, but I just can't do it. I can't follow along with an academic debate disguised as a story. Me little brain.
However - HOWEVER - I began reading Thomas Wolfe's Look Homeward, Angel today and after the first page - the first page mind you - I almost orgasmed. Holy shit. It bears repeating: holy shit. Page one and I could tell Wolfe is everything I've ever wanted to be as a writer. And he's philosophical. But let me explain how his philosophy differs from Mann's.
Wolfe is poetic. He isn't trying to cram grandiose ideas down my throat. He's trying to create an image that will make me - yes ME - think. And immediately, I do. I get the image and what it means, and - AND - associate it with ideas I've read/heard/had before. ORGASMIC. I had to stop reading at work because I thought I was going to bawl with happiness.
Needless to say....
So I won't. Hate that phrase.
What grade to give The Magic Mountain? Back to some incessant Tony Doerr speak: Tony was always impressed with my "meticulous attention to details." I've held onto that like you wouldn't believe. I believe it's one of my greatest strengths. Mann made (ha!) me ashamed of myself with his attention to said details. Good lord - there isn't as much knowledge in my entire head as he poured into this book. But was it lost in all of the vast proselytizing ($3 word)? Yes. And no. But mostly yes. I wish I fully understood what Mann was trying to tell me - yes ME - but I don't. I'm okay with that, I don't need to fully understand everything in the universe. I just need to enjoy the universe while I'm in it. Did I? Eh. 79.5%. I'll round up, you know, since the kid won the Nobel Prize. Very low B-.
Okay, whew, that was a duesey. I'm not even going to pretend - it was a bit of a rough go. I'm not disputing Thomas Mann deserves the Nobel Prize for Literature or anything, but as with most books written by Nobel-winning authors, The Magic Mountain is so long and so dense with philosophy I can't remember a good deal of it. It's hands-down beautiful, and the details in it are insanely precise, and Mann must have been a genius with knowledge to beat the band, but I just can't do it. I can't follow along with an academic debate disguised as a story. Me little brain.
However - HOWEVER - I began reading Thomas Wolfe's Look Homeward, Angel today and after the first page - the first page mind you - I almost orgasmed. Holy shit. It bears repeating: holy shit. Page one and I could tell Wolfe is everything I've ever wanted to be as a writer. And he's philosophical. But let me explain how his philosophy differs from Mann's.
Wolfe is poetic. He isn't trying to cram grandiose ideas down my throat. He's trying to create an image that will make me - yes ME - think. And immediately, I do. I get the image and what it means, and - AND - associate it with ideas I've read/heard/had before. ORGASMIC. I had to stop reading at work because I thought I was going to bawl with happiness.
Needless to say....
So I won't. Hate that phrase.
What grade to give The Magic Mountain? Back to some incessant Tony Doerr speak: Tony was always impressed with my "meticulous attention to details." I've held onto that like you wouldn't believe. I believe it's one of my greatest strengths. Mann made (ha!) me ashamed of myself with his attention to said details. Good lord - there isn't as much knowledge in my entire head as he poured into this book. But was it lost in all of the vast proselytizing ($3 word)? Yes. And no. But mostly yes. I wish I fully understood what Mann was trying to tell me - yes ME - but I don't. I'm okay with that, I don't need to fully understand everything in the universe. I just need to enjoy the universe while I'm in it. Did I? Eh. 79.5%. I'll round up, you know, since the kid won the Nobel Prize. Very low B-.
Friday, November 12, 2010
The Princess Bride
I just got done reading the abridged version of The Princess Bride and it was very very good. I want to say 'A'. I want to. Here's why I want to:
The abridger, William Goldman is hilarious and I'm fine with his asides. I don't need fifty pages on what the Queen packed when she was going to visit the other city.
The author, Simon Morgenstern, is equally hilarious. And fine with being anachronistic. So am I. I love that Westley was wearing blue jeans in medieval France. Love.
The characters are interesting. As you may or may not know, this is the most important aspect of any story for me. I wonder if it's why I have such a hard time getting into poems.
Anyway, why won't I give this an 'A' but am instead giving it a really high 'B+'?
I don't know. I enjoyed it immensely. I read it in one day. I ususally can only accomplish this if I am truly engaged with the novel. I was. So what's eating me?
I don't think I'll reread it. The novels I give an 'A' grade are ones I will return to, time and again. For this purpose, Stephen King's The Drawing of the Three, which is the second book of The Dark Tower Series, only receives a high 'B'. It's not my favorite and I don't reread it. I think the one thing, and I'll talk about this eventually on this blog, the one thing that earns any novel an 'A' has to be visceral and extremely personal. I would recommend this book to others, especially those who enjoy adventure books, but now that I'm done, I'm done. I don't want to go back and find the little details I feel like I overlooked the first time.
Goldman would of course give this book a 'A'. He responds to it on such an emotional level (boy does he) and I think that's beautiful, and if he had explained to me why he thought I should read it I would, just based on his explanation, and I don't think I would regret it even if I didn't enjoy it because I knew it brought someone else such pleasure. I don't regret it. I just won't be revisiting it.
I will however, forever revisit its greatest line:
"Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
The abridger, William Goldman is hilarious and I'm fine with his asides. I don't need fifty pages on what the Queen packed when she was going to visit the other city.
The author, Simon Morgenstern, is equally hilarious. And fine with being anachronistic. So am I. I love that Westley was wearing blue jeans in medieval France. Love.
The characters are interesting. As you may or may not know, this is the most important aspect of any story for me. I wonder if it's why I have such a hard time getting into poems.
Anyway, why won't I give this an 'A' but am instead giving it a really high 'B+'?
I don't know. I enjoyed it immensely. I read it in one day. I ususally can only accomplish this if I am truly engaged with the novel. I was. So what's eating me?
I don't think I'll reread it. The novels I give an 'A' grade are ones I will return to, time and again. For this purpose, Stephen King's The Drawing of the Three, which is the second book of The Dark Tower Series, only receives a high 'B'. It's not my favorite and I don't reread it. I think the one thing, and I'll talk about this eventually on this blog, the one thing that earns any novel an 'A' has to be visceral and extremely personal. I would recommend this book to others, especially those who enjoy adventure books, but now that I'm done, I'm done. I don't want to go back and find the little details I feel like I overlooked the first time.
Goldman would of course give this book a 'A'. He responds to it on such an emotional level (boy does he) and I think that's beautiful, and if he had explained to me why he thought I should read it I would, just based on his explanation, and I don't think I would regret it even if I didn't enjoy it because I knew it brought someone else such pleasure. I don't regret it. I just won't be revisiting it.
I will however, forever revisit its greatest line:
"Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)