The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Great Gatsby…

As the band plays Jazz and the lights, they flash and the dancers dance and the drinks go round once more, as a thousand times they have already, and shatter-drops of tipsy laughter sparkle on the floor, young Carraway watches the world’s most extravagant shadow stare with a longing at a light on the a other side of a too-far pond.

Sometimes only a run-on can express, exactly, or maybe, begin to express. F. Scott Fitzgerald deftly placed words in the way one might imagine that a jazz bands plays- catching up motion, emotion, excitement in a sentence or two, and honest-to-goodness love in a page. To bring characters to life is something every author dreams of- and that’s usually it. Gatsby’s smile, and uncomfortability, was undeniably alive.

Gatsby is a story about humans being human, from the perspective of a life-tossed wordsmith. At sea in the bright lights of the 1920’s with a cousin, her husband, and a madman in a suit, Nick Carraway recalls the life that was lived between betrayals. Wild partying, to be followed by flying, a downtown ride in the summer sun, the gaze of two ever-watching eyes, and a tragic, pointless loss.

Read the Great Gatsby, not for moral uplifting, but for the opportunity to see life come alive on a page like it really hasn’t before. Like a movie, actually, without the whirring of a projector in the back. Delve into another period, that is more colorfully our own, and meet a narrator who has, quite simply, brought his characters to life.

“The Darkest Minds” by Alexandra Bracken :: The Darkest Minds

Base image courtesy of “From a to z” on Pinterest.

“I had the strangest feeling, like I had lost something without ever really having it in the first place – that I wasn’t what I once was, and wasn’t at all what I was meant to be. The sensation made me feel hollow down to my bones.” – Alexandra Bracken’s The Darkest Minds

The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken was, unsurprisingly, dark – and in a multitude of ways.

The book begins with the reader completely in the dark. There is little explanation of recent events, enough so that, even 50 pages into the book, I was still uncertain of its purpose, as well as several critical plot points. (For example: “Why are all of the adults so evil?” “What kind of government, or people, would put up with corruption like this?” And, “Who are the ‘good guys’?”)

Outside of this unfortunate vagueness, I actually enjoyed the book quite a bit. The plot, narrated in the voice of Ruby, the main character, is very personal, and, therefore, personally terrifying. The abuse of the unnaturally gifted is realistically portrayed in the lives of the children of a dystopian Earth, where a new virus has caused the majority of its children to die – or morph into something new, something more powerful than any human ever before.

These “Psi” children, in their evolution, have become outcasts from society, and reality as is known to the rest of the world. Sent away to camps where they are tyrannized, abused, and strictly prohibited from regular interaction with their peers, they slowly begin to either corrupt, or revolt.

But never escape. Escape is impossible from a prison world, one that labels you “broken,” “inconvenient,” and “dangerous.” Children band together to fight for normality, and eventually, control. But can such a conclusion ever be obtained?

For dystopian fiction, Bracken’s Darkest Minds is okay. But I would not go so far as to call it anything more than that. The language is very rough; not, I think, deserving the book’s prerequisite rating of readers 12 and older. And there is a notable lack of any redemption. By the end, I was left in a melancholy slump, hoping without success for some kind of light at the end of the tunnel.

The tunnel stayed dark.

For the older reader, The Darkest Minds is an interesting dystopian read, not in the ranks of Collins’ Hunger Games, per say, but certainly worth checking out of your local library for a quick holiday read.

“Killing Lincoln” by Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard

Photo Credit: Richard Pilon (on Flickr)

This book is my answer to the question, “What’s so great about reading outside your comfort zone?” This. I got to read this. “Here, borrow my copy. Not the history reading type? Forget it, man – this is WAY too real to be history.”

Bill O’Reilly’s Killing Lincoln is anything but an old story. That would be like calling Nutella “just a hazelnut spread.” Au contraire, mes amis. It is delicious heaven-paste. And Killing Lincoln is not fairly described as “just an account” – it is more like a window with pages. Booth’s outrageous mindset is displayed clearly, murders realistically, and people, wholly.

The book successfully recaptures the chaotic atmosphere of the end of the Civil war, and places you inside it.You will flee the streets to avoid the post-war mobs, drunken with victory, or defeat, or just liquor. You will dodge the blows of an assassin in the night. And along with the masses, you will cry, “SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!” at the President’s window.

That man with the top hat, tall, skinny build, and commoner’s tongue will lead you out of years of evil into blessed peace. He’ll calm your doubts with quiet words, but urge you to be better than any before you. He will love his wife, his family, and his country like no President before him. And in the end, he’ll stand unshaken to stare into the eyes of Death.

I received this book as a gift from my grandparents for review. This in no way changed my opinion, or review, of the book. It only made it more clear to me how fantastic my grandparents are.

“The Fellowship of the Ring” by J.R.R. Tolkien :: The Lord of the Rings

Photo Credit: Michael Stuckey

Title: The Fellowship of the Ring // Author: J.R.R. Tolkien // Publisher: Mariner Books

“The day came like fire and smoke. Low in the East, there were black bars of cloud like the fumes of a great burning. The rising sun lit them from beneath with flames of murky red…” -J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

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Whispers are heard in the lands of Middle-Earth, traveling on the tongues of the drunken and sober alike. Murmurs of black, hooded not-men that hunt for the prey of their dark Master, with an eye of fire and a grip of shadow. Hushed voices begin to rise, and then shout…

Hobbits are, one could even say by definition, very timid little fellows. Quiet, short, and fat they are, prone towards silence in the midst of argument, and towards gluttony when sufficient food is available. (And with hobbits, sufficient food is rarely unavailable.) There lives are of ease, good food, and friendly conversation. These are not creatures of adventure.

Yet Frodo Baggins, heir of his rich (and queer) cousin Bilbo, has begun to ache for it- a story to live, and not just to hear. Perhaps not even an ache, but a tremor, or a yearning for travel abroad, maybe like that which his cousin took so long ago. Nevertheless, the feeling is there, whatever it be called. And not wholly unwelcome.

At the rise of a dark being in the south, a call is made for retaliation, and a hero is wanted. One of courage, humility, and endurance, who would thwart the enemy with quiet strength before brute force. Small, maybe; the holed-up type. Possibly… a hobbit?

Frodo, bearer of the Ring of Doom,  watches and listens as the whispers turn to roars. Hobbling, riding, and fleeing the Necromancer, Sauron – adventure, long wanted, is now granted him. But can he survive it?

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Ah, wonders. I’ve done it. I’ve read through the first of the (official) Lord of the Rings books. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d gone about it slowly. A page here, a page there, and a paragraph in between. But NO. I went at it full force. There is a wonderful and tremulous ache in my metaphorical belly.

Tolkien’s gift is in his use of words. (Which is an important part of any story. :-)) He uses run-ons, though sometimes too thickly, with finesse- something I aspire to do with my own writing. He created art, and with fiction, (especially fantasy,) doing that is much more a process of complete invention than one of simply re-wording things that have already been said. It is crafting an entire existence, which is what Tolkien did with such exquisite skill as to draw in the freakishly large fandom that he has.

My only critique is that, for those not wildly attentive to every detail and word of elvish spoken in Middle-Earth, it is easy to get lost amongst all of the -adriels, -orns, and –ons. That is to say, in simpler terms- If you are not a geek, it might be hard to track everything. But somehow, I won the geek lottery, and so loved the story. Thick, artful, fantastic. Go check it out.

“Mockingjay” by Suzanne Collins :: The Hunger Games

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Title: Mockingjay // Author: Suzanne Collins // Publisher: Scholastic Press

“I’ll tell them how I survive it. I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious… But there are much worse games to play.”
–Suzanne Collins, “Mockingjay”

* Note: SPOILER ALERT – If you have not read the first or second book in this series, this review will NOT make sense to you, and it WILL spoil them for you. Avert thine eyes post-haste if this be so! (Otherwise… I guess you’re good. Read on.)

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How does one win an unending Game where the life of one means the death of another, friendship kills, and love is betrayal? If surrendering to death is made inconceivable, winning impossible, then the answer lies in contradiction. One can not win, must not win, and so must fight the Game itself.

Katniss Everdeen has escaped the Game at last, carried away by a secret organization of rebels based in a District long though to be dead. Headed by the calculative and unforgiving President Coin, District 13 has survived (and only barely) for its anonymity and equality of arms with the Capitol.

No longer.

The Districts have launched a full scale rebellion. The crooked rule of the Capitol is blatantly denied, and war is announced. Not a street, nor home, nor child’s dream is free of images of fighting, and the hope of freedom burns like a forest fire through the land of Panem.

Peeta is a prisoner of the Capitol, and it is evident that his health, mental as well as physical, is quickly degrading. A rescue mission attempt would be possible, but costly. Katniss is torn between her love for the boy that is dying on television, and the one that is willing to die beside her.

With the Districts in upheaval, a figurehead is necessary to maintain the fire, and keep the fight alive. Katniss is chosen as that figurehead- The Mockingjay. Rebel. Lover. One who is willing to take the pain for the sake of freedom. But off camera, her stance is far more uncertain. Can I do this? What is it that I fight for?

When questions such as these go unanswered, she takes it upon herself to find out. President Snow or no, war or no, love or no, she determines to find answers, with only her family, her bow, and other, darker things to sustain her.

Her fight has not left the Mockingjay along with her flame. Instead, it has grown into an upheaval of her own. No amount of fired arrows or stricken targets is enough to cool her wrath, not until the Districts are free, the people fed and housed, and the Capitol burnt to the ground. After that? Not even Katniss herself knows.

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I am… conflicted over Mockingjay. My sea of emotions (at risk of sounding awfully cliche,) is vast, and anything BUT still. There is, atop its crests, the obvious disappointment of finishing a marvelous book series. (On a scale of Post-finishing depression, I would rate it beneath Narnia but slightly above The Door Within.) I was massively appreciative of the series as a whole.

HOWEVER, Mockingjay in itself did not live up to my expectations. I could blibber, blubber, and plenty of other bl___’s for hours about tiny details, but I’ll give you my main three Oh, stink points.

Oh, stink #1. Katniss simply cannot seem to make her mind up about who she is “really” in love with. I see that in actuality this situation could be presented, but in Collins book, it contrasts Katniss’ normal firmness of belief and decisiveness. She can pin a deer to a tree without thinking twice, but when it comes to romance, she is at a loss. In my opinion, it makes her a weaker character. (Hunger Games fans, forgive me now.)

Oh, stink numero DOS. The violence in this addition to the series is notably pronounced. It is less artful, and more for the sake of Action! Contention! Emotion! FREAK OUT!

Oh, stink III. The leaders of the rebellion are corrupt. And besides that, the movement is fueled mainly by hatred. There isn’t really a righteous cause that is well represented.

Over all, though, I stand firmly in the conviction that The Hunger Games is a good series, and well worth the time I spent reading (and re-reading) it. I look forward to whatever Collins cooks up next.