tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53831194669618705372024-03-18T15:02:44.398-04:00Literature Frenzy!There Will Come Soft Rains.Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.comBlogger322125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-53949266640527017602024-03-18T14:24:00.005-04:002024-03-18T14:35:26.803-04:00The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwERwwjiIIMBIzbUFqlPTcI9ZfzW6mzKghVFTCZgCThCULKv1Dx_2ZU2qaQHNjAjkDX2UN3fJsfTCtePlWkF4il6KQqGYJMlgjSvXVpR02fFdpehz7xT-uQUcnuGFFoghZidYuEJt8jCjnvnOmOJIen0J8EKEFL95iqwdtSVfTYJuGIBdgGXU9BxFBwnB/s500/thingstheycarried.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="329" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwERwwjiIIMBIzbUFqlPTcI9ZfzW6mzKghVFTCZgCThCULKv1Dx_2ZU2qaQHNjAjkDX2UN3fJsfTCtePlWkF4il6KQqGYJMlgjSvXVpR02fFdpehz7xT-uQUcnuGFFoghZidYuEJt8jCjnvnOmOJIen0J8EKEFL95iqwdtSVfTYJuGIBdgGXU9BxFBwnB/s320/thingstheycarried.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Full. Metal. Jacket.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I now have a much better understanding as to why "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien is often anthologized and considered one of the greatest short-stories of the 20th century. Suffice it to say, it certainly lives up to the hype. In a meticulously condensed portrayal, the author provides a snapshot of the harrowing realities and psychological toll of the Vietnam War. Through a dynamic narrative lens, we are granted access to the American soldier's traumatic experiences as they march aimlessly towards potential death. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In a manner reminiscent of a meticulously conducted scientific inquiry or an immersive documentary, the narrative unfolds with pedagogical precision, listing the plethora of physical items each soldier bears, even down to the minutiae of their weight. From chewing gum and rations to burdensome loads of ammunition and weaponry, every item carries its own weight, both literally and metaphorically. This narrative approach is profoundly effective, granting readers a more intimate understanding of the soldiers' physical burdens. As we witness their arduous journeys through dense jungles and unforgiving terrain, we are confronted with the sheer resilience and endurance demanded of these individuals. Their physical exertions, as conveyed through the narrative, stand as a testament to their extraordinary fortitude in the face of adversity. Of course, each soldier also carries the emotional weight of fear, loss, guilt, shame and responsibility to each other as a unit that often goes unspoken. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">From a critical analysis perspective, there are so many different approaches to understanding the story's complex depth. The most interesting aspect for me is the photograph of Martha, carried by Lieutenant Jimmy Cross. Even though it is just a picture of his college sweetheart, she comes to life through his memories and becomes the emotional centerpiece of the story. She symbolizes innocence, normalcy and freedom. In essence, she exists merely as a fantasy in Jimmy's mind, an anchor to a life far removed from the horrors of war. The photograph becomes a sense of comfort and escapism, dreaming about a life together when his tour in Vietnam is over. As he gazes upon the photograph, t</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">he narrative seamlessly shifts </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">into his personal reflections, providing valuable insight into his thought process and sense of character. However, we learn that Martha's true feelings for him were not made clear and he is desperately clinging to the hope that he can win her affections after the war. To avoid spoilers, I will refrain from saying much more on the subject but his final decision at the end in relation to Martha helps to reinforce some the story's important themes of guilt, duty and responsibility. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A haunting and unforgettable short-story that will linger in my mind for a very long time to come.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtSjfHTkR6ambUE6b8YvwUVyLEEXWv5aVAym3-kOy7y0xEaJrSDuo9IJ0kQ9OYWfzUj0sjNOQ7a2mETvS84zOU33_yqmTCRHdNaS4ndQo_fjZgTcVH6Zj_glHUrjaL1LdMutEBzfVuEGF215lpQxNXnO42lqrh2pssHBujgbry6TGhKReRJcCiB_9i_Yj/s150/5star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="150" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtSjfHTkR6ambUE6b8YvwUVyLEEXWv5aVAym3-kOy7y0xEaJrSDuo9IJ0kQ9OYWfzUj0sjNOQ7a2mETvS84zOU33_yqmTCRHdNaS4ndQo_fjZgTcVH6Zj_glHUrjaL1LdMutEBzfVuEGF215lpQxNXnO42lqrh2pssHBujgbry6TGhKReRJcCiB_9i_Yj/s1600/5star.png" width="150" /></a></div></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-91578264411053154112024-03-17T15:11:00.005-04:002024-03-17T15:13:56.244-04:00The Golden Man by Philip K. Dick (1954)<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oggjRLJnuExQYOmLL7rGYt8A6BpeFX1INp9bQUvT-H90v-zdn346hSAH48GrUwQJqTWaDpYpDrH6BTBkGKWTZ67poAuFuiMsxHaNBOcN7XjlAJ5R6zyJw6TqomZjBdtRK2wooj_WTJdIXz6iH914NLc8bCE3EXbTHtnO5DtT80rM44Eo78BDPleryR6v/s1400/adamwarlock.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oggjRLJnuExQYOmLL7rGYt8A6BpeFX1INp9bQUvT-H90v-zdn346hSAH48GrUwQJqTWaDpYpDrH6BTBkGKWTZ67poAuFuiMsxHaNBOcN7XjlAJ5R6zyJw6TqomZjBdtRK2wooj_WTJdIXz6iH914NLc8bCE3EXbTHtnO5DtT80rM44Eo78BDPleryR6v/s320/adamwarlock.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Adam Warlock, the golden god.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tell me if this premise sounds familiar: </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">a government, gripped by fear, initiates a relentless crusade against mutants endowed with extraordinary powers. Driven by the dread of humanity's potential extinction at the hands of these superior beings, they've orchestrated a campaign of "euthanasia", leaving many mutants slain and the fortunate survivors are forced into hiding. Enter a determined government agent tasked with hunting down any remaining mutants in the country. Along the way, he encounters a remarkable young man, possessing a complexion akin to molten gold, blessed with supersonic speed and an intellect capable of navigating the intricacies of future events across its myriad possibilities. Does it ring a bell yet? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">While reading this story, I couldn't help but make the parallels to the iconic X-Men series and the figure of Adam Warlock. Yet, here's a tantalizing thought: could it be that the visionary mind of Stan Lee found inspiration in Philip K. Dick's "The Golden Man"? It's merely conjecture, but the notion holds a compelling allure. Nor am I accusing Lee of plagiarism. I just find it interesting that this story was published in 1954 and Adam Warlock's first appearance in the Marvel comics was 1967. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Conjecture aside, the actual short-story is underwhelming, tedious and drawn-out. Not to mention, the blatant misogyny is off-putting and cringe-worthy. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The narrative pacing is sluggish and mostly uneventful until the final act when the perspective shifts to the Golden Man, injecting a newfound intrigue into the tale. However, considering Dick's remuneration by word count for publication, one can hardly fault him for prolonging the narrative to earn his paycheck.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">You can read this story <a href="https://americanliterature.com/author/philip-k-dick/short-story/the-golden-man">HERE.</a></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijjdutTyFWtu67AoZy40KbSuzninywIe5VvqBdzwCzGMEqLMyaVlo7DBhaZJcLE9NOwSANsu1HmLpsP706hyphenhyphenk0WMSsMxP-fCnpkfKlGc2Z9Ba_0cd_jKgTwJ04TltZEymTvFWr9W6Wi1C270VuMiyF82SmK8iYZwNuKqQbRgkhTaJjVlkLj48WVCwFgY9g/s60/2star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="60" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijjdutTyFWtu67AoZy40KbSuzninywIe5VvqBdzwCzGMEqLMyaVlo7DBhaZJcLE9NOwSANsu1HmLpsP706hyphenhyphenk0WMSsMxP-fCnpkfKlGc2Z9Ba_0cd_jKgTwJ04TltZEymTvFWr9W6Wi1C270VuMiyF82SmK8iYZwNuKqQbRgkhTaJjVlkLj48WVCwFgY9g/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-36827853769671621842024-03-17T11:32:00.006-04:002024-03-17T12:25:50.339-04:00Burning Chrome by William Gibson<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9IXP7R8Z5fMs4XDGWQz_bLa2xleCgvhaCGWBvbR-KzeXw4AonxURy7pleHMKoIsDNE4n7W-o3Aftd3FfPqNdWZWTusV70pylRJA8hr4lzCIpwD3X1hEiBRWtXkyJouH7dZZEQeH6P6PosRol4TJOlZimxtec0ZxZK4GiErBmoibDYNFZ_yYdDXIBJikQ/s1024/burningchrome.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9IXP7R8Z5fMs4XDGWQz_bLa2xleCgvhaCGWBvbR-KzeXw4AonxURy7pleHMKoIsDNE4n7W-o3Aftd3FfPqNdWZWTusV70pylRJA8hr4lzCIpwD3X1hEiBRWtXkyJouH7dZZEQeH6P6PosRol4TJOlZimxtec0ZxZK4GiErBmoibDYNFZ_yYdDXIBJikQ/s320/burningchrome.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Burn, baby burn.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">William Gibson is often considered one of the pioneers of 1980's cyberpunk science-fiction and his influence on the genre is unprecedented. He clearly had a substantial impact on the writing of Greg Egan (I reviewed several of his short-stories recently), especially in terms of literary style and atmosphere. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Burning Chrome" is pure sensory and information overload. The fast-pasted narrative is a disorienting adrenaline rush with its onslaught of techno-jargon and amorphous world-building. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">This futuristic society is a <i>film noir</i>-like dystopia of </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">claustrophobic urban sprawls, seedy back-alleys, bustling </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">cyber-cafes, and bright neon lights </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">where technology has run amok. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The narrator, Automatic Jack, is a hustler known for his cybernetic arm. His best friend Bobby is </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">a "cowboy", which refers to a highly skilled hacker that spends a lot of time plugged into cyberspace, breaking into various computer systems to steal valuable data. Through a series of flashbacks, Jack recounts their dangerous attempt to hack into the highly complex database called Chrome </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">(makes me wonder if Google Chrome was influenced by this story). Or at least, that seems to be the basis of the plot? The narrative deliberately eschews explanations, entwining itself in a labyrinthine web of ambiguity and complexity, thus crafting an immersive and hallucinatory journey for the reader. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Characters drift in and out of the story, operating in the shadows, further contributing to the sense of mystery and moral ambiguity. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The two friends eventually meet a</span><i style="font-family: georgia;"> femme-fatale </i><span style="font-family: georgia;">named Rikki at the cafe and Bobby quickly becomes infatuated. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Her interest in augmented cybernetics hints at a deeper connection to the technological underbelly of the story's world, suggesting a possible involvement in clandestine activities or subversive agendas. This ambiguity surrounding Rikki's character leaves readers questioning her true allegiance and purpose, heightening the sense of mystery and unpredictability.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Darko Suvin's theory of <i>cognitive estrangement </i>would perfectly apply to a cyberpunk story like "Burning Chrome" because there is a recognition of various elements but it is juxtaposed with the strange, unfamiliar and uncanny. Any readers looking to find deep characterization or a well-defined story is bound to be disappointed. William Gibson is all about style and literary technique while creating an atmosphere of cyberpunk ambiance overflowing with <i>coolness. </i>There is much to be said about an author's literary talents to produce an </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">enigmatic narrative that is utterly confusing with perplexing twists and turns, yet I found myself fully engaged from start to finish.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjw_4-pHmoKa6Ou-TCmoOoxvrwIIHjgeU-4ruKdpD7HHC4EPMPho0R5rqw6_-0GPbaqwQEKcupkwjll1EMbY5q5FK6cWRzAB9lfQ8obl0nGx-OdKr-0VyKxoSKlL5T5R6j6LTuoTf0kg23osGq_MJcxIRbXrwfPEZqTHjaR8VY_i_yUSAETAWtxDF9nZ49/s90/3star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="90" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjw_4-pHmoKa6Ou-TCmoOoxvrwIIHjgeU-4ruKdpD7HHC4EPMPho0R5rqw6_-0GPbaqwQEKcupkwjll1EMbY5q5FK6cWRzAB9lfQ8obl0nGx-OdKr-0VyKxoSKlL5T5R6j6LTuoTf0kg23osGq_MJcxIRbXrwfPEZqTHjaR8VY_i_yUSAETAWtxDF9nZ49/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-74354266153594762102024-03-15T09:51:00.014-04:002024-03-15T17:47:25.386-04:00Porcupines at the University by Donald Barthelme<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tIDC1HwZY8C3TbT8FyvyAj8StbR32vAkUaRHX-vJW1r5Yq9Sr70N5zmJr_6IhnN2INBHsjn7LUwNJEW1MGioigBUy1zumcCqwb5igp-nNruGMArPODk2b9k66OwKFmfW62RfhM7fOhmcsz2MSvcnENiFifTGGbhXMGB_AmgLVHST5jqwR8GiCuj0-UNU/s1024/porcupine.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tIDC1HwZY8C3TbT8FyvyAj8StbR32vAkUaRHX-vJW1r5Yq9Sr70N5zmJr_6IhnN2INBHsjn7LUwNJEW1MGioigBUy1zumcCqwb5igp-nNruGMArPODk2b9k66OwKFmfW62RfhM7fOhmcsz2MSvcnENiFifTGGbhXMGB_AmgLVHST5jqwR8GiCuj0-UNU/s320/porcupine.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Prickly scholars.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Admittedly, it was the quirky title that immediately caught my attention and made me want to read this story. In the postmodernist tradition, conventional narrative forms are thrown out the window in favor of embracing the absurd as a kaleidoscopic reflection of the fragmented vision of reality. The emphasis is placed on incoherence, the preposterous, disarray and chaos. This total lack of so-called<i> realism</i> further highlights the tension between fiction and reality often found in Barthelme's work. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The plot makes absolutely no sense and I suppose that's the whole point. All you really need to know is that it does contain porcupines, although not cute ones dressed in graduation robes as seen in the above image. I just thought it was cute. In this story, these animals are more of a nuisance and thousands of them are being herded across campus grounds by an older man with aspirations to be a famous musician on the Vegas strip. The dean of the university decides to take matters into his own hands by shooting them all with a Gatling gun on his wagon, that is very reminiscent of the famous scene in the original Django movie (not the Tarantino version). See? Complete nonsense.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Every aspect of this story is baffling and left me confused. Is it a supposed to be parody or satire on academic life? Also, why porcupines? What are they suppose to represent or symbolize? Beats me. A</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">ny u</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">nderlying sociopolitical commentary went completely over my head. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">By now, I </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">am used to his particular brand of outlandish humor but it didn't quite resonate with me as much. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Nevertheless, it's short enough and slightly amusing at times to not be a complete waste of time.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjCJytrQJFpZuqcb-Qh-_1-1OZ1BEZ6HM1wi8IT_LVw88dkn07MS64ZPqaxYXPcjypQsjs__DRjtXjUO0hQte5hIH4KbqT9776ohiz_GCTxrUutVRZvLeoT3Gj14MdpAENHkKp85FPz7FLtEKe9_eFCFgpKBP1RmA-Y7WOGeUjrQKEAsuXlSKigBRYHGc/s60/2star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="60" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjCJytrQJFpZuqcb-Qh-_1-1OZ1BEZ6HM1wi8IT_LVw88dkn07MS64ZPqaxYXPcjypQsjs__DRjtXjUO0hQte5hIH4KbqT9776ohiz_GCTxrUutVRZvLeoT3Gj14MdpAENHkKp85FPz7FLtEKe9_eFCFgpKBP1RmA-Y7WOGeUjrQKEAsuXlSKigBRYHGc/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-20912328769356647492024-03-14T13:18:00.012-04:002024-03-14T14:34:39.672-04:00Mono No Aware by Ken Liu<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH81A-GZb6Spvx7PXGFjivDP3XegwFvAapXbZfUddnt557gRikDRsW_BODjNfIeiSIGUBL9b0rw7t_ysCt_gCtLOloykd2KByiTBtKuO8dk5XQ8yCS4KweLZypId_S1bttEr9734Tj2kVovYFarpq_AQeORt2Q28MRgtOdzPGZGJ9tzpQy-G13Ao9K4UCB/s500/paper%20menagerie.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH81A-GZb6Spvx7PXGFjivDP3XegwFvAapXbZfUddnt557gRikDRsW_BODjNfIeiSIGUBL9b0rw7t_ysCt_gCtLOloykd2KByiTBtKuO8dk5XQ8yCS4KweLZypId_S1bttEr9734Tj2kVovYFarpq_AQeORt2Q28MRgtOdzPGZGJ9tzpQy-G13Ao9K4UCB/s320/paper%20menagerie.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Hopeful.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ken Liu is quickly becoming one of my favorite short-story writers and his collection, "The Paper Menagerie" is filled with powerful imagination, evocative prose, tenderness and heartbreak. My goal is to review each story from this stunning collection and today we are starting with "Mono No Aware", which absolutely floored me. It is difficult to explain but there is a softness to Liu's lyrical prose combined with an underlying melancholy that just tugs on the heartstrings. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The narrative unfolds with a familiar premise to the science fiction genre: Earth is destroyed during a catastrophic asteroid strike. During the evacuation, only a small number of humans can board a large vessel that is tasked to find another habitable planet for humanity to start over. This trope has been used countless times and is invariably cliché. However, in this story, it </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">serves mainly as a backdrop for Liu to focus on rendering characters with striking authenticity while exploring themes of family, love, loss, sacrifice and the transitory nature of human existence. Indeed, the term </span><i style="font-family: georgia;">mono no aware </i><span style="font-family: georgia;">is a Japanese phrase meaning the awareness of impermanence and appreciating the fleeting beauty of life. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">By blending elements of science fiction with deep philosophical musings, the story transcends its genre trappings to offer a universal meditation on the human condition. In doing so, "Mono no Aware" achieves a rare and haunting pathos reminding us of the beauty and fragility of life itself.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The story gains its emotional power through the character Hiroto, our first-person narrator and central protagonist. His poignant philosophical reflections and childhood flashbacks form the emotional core of the narrative. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">More specifically, the deeply cherished bond with his father amidst the chaos of Earth's impending destruction, serve as the beating heart of the story, infusing it with profound emotional depth and resonance. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As the final act unfolds, it becomes evident that "Mono no Aware" is a narrative that eschews haste, opting instead for a deliberate and measured pace. Ken Liu's impressive storytelling technique is on full display as he carefully constructs each scene with precision, allowing the tension to simmer and the emotional stakes to heighten. Through patient and deliberate strokes, Liu guides the reader on a journey of personal revelation, culminating in Hiroto's momentous decision that holds the fate of humanity in the balance. This deliberate pacing not only serves to intensify the narrative's emotional impact but also underscores its rich thematic depth.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEELDz93oaNX_upSBNTpU-JkHbr34ZUTqezVlzJ6RqVc7lD9cgb2jdeB3UpbIIb8XfGXvDlvfE-UVph5Cjd49KKECjn-qfqadr-g0hy2e5If11tDEM_yRKHc-eYqLueSwmphOUvMsI27fGBMoubpwgyAfSncgvWsRkjd_QB7d7vbtXQny1MuhztVw0iAEK/s120/4star.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="120" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEELDz93oaNX_upSBNTpU-JkHbr34ZUTqezVlzJ6RqVc7lD9cgb2jdeB3UpbIIb8XfGXvDlvfE-UVph5Cjd49KKECjn-qfqadr-g0hy2e5If11tDEM_yRKHc-eYqLueSwmphOUvMsI27fGBMoubpwgyAfSncgvWsRkjd_QB7d7vbtXQny1MuhztVw0iAEK/s1600/4star.png" width="120" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-52250215932931146532024-03-13T14:36:00.002-04:002024-03-13T14:38:01.635-04:00The Garbage Collector by Ray Bradbury<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRdJqSqgwx3Q9tZx1UtrM3YPGSRe-B2Ki0ow1EKGy2QH8rws2kr93R5SqpeDRY3AGAoqzD97972DBqEPBNAPlBWhcKSOAkbDUCQrsAMTPwozKmMLlNHMrBX6snDTuKdocFCAXMl-Un4tRLC9V1DMIc0OujNEK5JUBcGvQjtmu3CAqnJNcqcI3Ee-IokHX/s800/garbage%20collector.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="770" data-original-width="800" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRdJqSqgwx3Q9tZx1UtrM3YPGSRe-B2Ki0ow1EKGy2QH8rws2kr93R5SqpeDRY3AGAoqzD97972DBqEPBNAPlBWhcKSOAkbDUCQrsAMTPwozKmMLlNHMrBX6snDTuKdocFCAXMl-Un4tRLC9V1DMIc0OujNEK5JUBcGvQjtmu3CAqnJNcqcI3Ee-IokHX/s320/garbage%20collector.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>🎵 "The Garbage man can! The Garbage man can, he does it with a smile and never judges you!"</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The specter of nuclear annihilation looms large in Ray Bradbury's oeuvre, reflecting the pervasive anxiety of the Cold War era in which he thrived as a prominent writer. It's no surprise that the fear of the world's end held a prominent place in his creative consciousness. In this grim narrative, set against the backdrop of potential devastation, a garbage man grapples with the moral dilemma of either adhering to his duties or forsaking them when a new government mandate dictates that garbage trucks must transition to collecting the deceased in the aftermath of an atomic blast.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Bradbury's mastery shines through in his ability to craft short-stories that, while seemingly straightforward, are imbued with evocative imagery, profound themes, and sharp prose. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Beyond delving into apocalyptic fears, Bradbury demonstrates a keen insight into the intricacies of domestic life and the experiences of the working class. He deftly transforms the mundane and everyday struggles of ordinary people into narratives that are not only compelling but also possess an eerie and haunting bleakness. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_aWdJmwuft4i_j1sdI6DKjJlX1EKWBU7EuJ-DBFcHM6E2knqRAaLT92f82KQOPSXda4m6l2Bx8CRTBIuA80xL0qScIwaPxqGy8VAOXHCLrKnGSd-D-BFB7qivjM4DuGVz38eozkRzUbIQnwHPB_-wuT15qGFAn7_82wFoMzqlSm1HEc9flmMYpxFjTW2z/s90/3star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="90" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_aWdJmwuft4i_j1sdI6DKjJlX1EKWBU7EuJ-DBFcHM6E2knqRAaLT92f82KQOPSXda4m6l2Bx8CRTBIuA80xL0qScIwaPxqGy8VAOXHCLrKnGSd-D-BFB7qivjM4DuGVz38eozkRzUbIQnwHPB_-wuT15qGFAn7_82wFoMzqlSm1HEc9flmMYpxFjTW2z/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-62257836108709686562024-03-13T10:57:00.005-04:002024-03-15T11:08:50.112-04:00Death and What Comes Next by Terry Pratchett<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTR771k2sx7WKqVO7e97lpzO0R9F0XBrIBTQnTW8oY9RfKafnWCSQ5D3wfTwNOAx_GxtlycfXi-wDhOdwCHlI_EbzYx7JhPbsgy4ztdQblc-5vhafslnyHtzPV_p3HhM3shOjDT0qbi87PWzVYRFUzSNGNLq3Ph9FTfLMzkzhGN-imT8XKI1iaPdbvibI_/s1024/grimreaper.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="765" data-original-width="1024" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTR771k2sx7WKqVO7e97lpzO0R9F0XBrIBTQnTW8oY9RfKafnWCSQ5D3wfTwNOAx_GxtlycfXi-wDhOdwCHlI_EbzYx7JhPbsgy4ztdQblc-5vhafslnyHtzPV_p3HhM3shOjDT0qbi87PWzVYRFUzSNGNLq3Ph9FTfLMzkzhGN-imT8XKI1iaPdbvibI_/s320/grimreaper.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Stop pontificating and die already!!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I have never read the Disc World novels or anything else by Terry Pratchett for that matter. Reading 'Death and What Comes Next' felt like a breeze—quick, amusing, and good for a few chuckles. Sometimes, that's all you can really ask for with a comedic short-story. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So, a philosopher and Death walk into a bar...well, not really. They both meet and the philosopher attempts to outwit the inevitable by expounding on the complex issues of multiverses, morality, ethics, and free will. Yet, Death, unyielding and ever-patient, challenges the philosopher with its own brand of sophisticated logic. It's akin to witnessing a chess match between a seasoned champion and an eager novice. The champion here is Death, already foreseeing victory from the outset. Much to his annoyance, he decides to indulge his opponent, mostly to run out the clock or maybe impart a lesson in the process. Death cleverly lulls the philosopher into a false sense of security with the belief that referencing 'Schrödinger's cat' theory will be enough to tip the scales of victory in his favor. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Death's response and the final punch-line is enough to make this story worth-while if you're looking for a good chuckle.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xK7JqKPl-fUZ3OfhDI-bDzq9VV67e1RdYeZCJS4JHdJihjsmmT2bWS9I5WQ7136attd3lmTrJ2ru9BcS9Zyf-eKAUk_V7RgAadZ1asY3smTu6-jDr-530HThJOyyWJ2_iCPGaU-0NLdf2yp7XRolrW6XayqXmAa9_h89NGCfBC5sAVVgXT90_xVpp3sk/s90/3star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="90" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xK7JqKPl-fUZ3OfhDI-bDzq9VV67e1RdYeZCJS4JHdJihjsmmT2bWS9I5WQ7136attd3lmTrJ2ru9BcS9Zyf-eKAUk_V7RgAadZ1asY3smTu6-jDr-530HThJOyyWJ2_iCPGaU-0NLdf2yp7XRolrW6XayqXmAa9_h89NGCfBC5sAVVgXT90_xVpp3sk/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">You can read this story <a href="https://www.lspace.org/books/dawcn/dawcn-english.html">HERE.</a></span></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-46221897049943151792024-03-12T14:57:00.007-04:002024-03-14T07:44:17.975-04:00The Huntress by Sofia Samatar<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3FDSAUSSg6TfJDNTuGjQemqQVR4AXMadNnKjCIuhSYYNvRDk5oIQMOHIAMYTzBwYxmMrclCJCfNVgqNWeOdeLzamcKDffoccSfx10lkzx3JhO_bN37hvFq8cLSTLJBWzLip-uJTTlzZsHDYHhoCTXmi1iFX7x2_kEclLkGuh264EzqV6MQmMnSHaz3bzl/s745/elfranger.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="532" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3FDSAUSSg6TfJDNTuGjQemqQVR4AXMadNnKjCIuhSYYNvRDk5oIQMOHIAMYTzBwYxmMrclCJCfNVgqNWeOdeLzamcKDffoccSfx10lkzx3JhO_bN37hvFq8cLSTLJBWzLip-uJTTlzZsHDYHhoCTXmi1iFX7x2_kEclLkGuh264EzqV6MQmMnSHaz3bzl/s320/elfranger.png" width="229" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Stealth mode, activated.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Here is another very short-story by an author that is new to me. "The Huntress" by Sofia Samatar only consists of eight small paragraphs and can be read before you even take a few sips of coffee. Yet, despite multiple readings, it still leaves me baffled and trying to explain the "plot" would be an exercise in futility. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The vivid and poetic imagery is the most memorable aspect here. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm picking up some serious magical realism vibes, and it's got all the fantasy fixings, but the plot is shrouded in more mystery than a wizard's cloak. Is it a parable, an allegory, a fable, or just some ancient folklore? Your guess is as good as mine, but hey, that's half the fun, right?</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">You can read this story <a href="https://tinhouse.com/the-huntress/">HERE.</a></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFEpH0-eSMuA2lVUPARgn_CYMU_ba4OIqNN3LaQpZxQxtANOCPsnyOSr8QwCXRfrXtiJ96dQPd5HVkRLsK17kLbqTKn2P9QRuAkk1MGowibI2J9T7qM1rIgT-WEmJIru-ktBP7Rx9UKw4VRJmeMnvSobZ7H_EDKxxvxbFRCTlOnyoiOY63F_hoh2-vYWI/s60/2star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="60" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFEpH0-eSMuA2lVUPARgn_CYMU_ba4OIqNN3LaQpZxQxtANOCPsnyOSr8QwCXRfrXtiJ96dQPd5HVkRLsK17kLbqTKn2P9QRuAkk1MGowibI2J9T7qM1rIgT-WEmJIru-ktBP7Rx9UKw4VRJmeMnvSobZ7H_EDKxxvxbFRCTlOnyoiOY63F_hoh2-vYWI/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-23979450771562949732024-03-12T13:56:00.005-04:002024-03-12T14:05:05.613-04:00Embroidery by Ray Bradbury (1951)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tk8SFUtuxOExrZ5oTUvTX0DBQjmTuB_i_aIyYZWNrHEh14Uzef3gXpy-A1ny-kqMIDrpqzxv2zjTQUc4AaJbBeRFaahNZ_162k_LVYDhY0YgmxPOoRF24-vMrS5MA5YbPTI81YguaJQN_J-ZmUS8Vfo9hj7tVpcaxw1sq3tEC6CUWW9i1jJbnMMmG8YQ/s800/embroidery.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="527" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tk8SFUtuxOExrZ5oTUvTX0DBQjmTuB_i_aIyYZWNrHEh14Uzef3gXpy-A1ny-kqMIDrpqzxv2zjTQUc4AaJbBeRFaahNZ_162k_LVYDhY0YgmxPOoRF24-vMrS5MA5YbPTI81YguaJQN_J-ZmUS8Vfo9hj7tVpcaxw1sq3tEC6CUWW9i1jJbnMMmG8YQ/s320/embroidery.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Why panic when you can pick up a needle and thread?</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">On the eve of an impending nuclear annihilation, three older ladies are stitching embroidery on a porch. That's it. That's essentially the whole story in a nutshell. Simple and concise filled with beautiful prose and haunting imagery as to be expected from Mr. Bradbury. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is a very short-story, never outstaying its welcome while managing to convey a chilling sense of dread when facing imminent death. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instead of succumbing to panic, the friends embrace their inevitable fate with a poignant acceptance, opting to spend their final moments indulging in a cherished pastime together. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The tight narrative structure ensures an economical use of language, consisting mostly of ambiguous dialogue that effectively builds tension as the looming threat grows closer. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">A stark contrast emerges as the ladies engage in the wholesome task of embroidery while the world teeters on the brink of complete destruction, evoking a poignant juxtaposition of normalcy against impending doom.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaSRdGayFrIu3DayZY3SwXeYs9XZm7fVF-EZI1N9FryOXyeZI6iFdmKtK_-0o15Na9FuteKwXG-_TgJQ4WlHcKLEBAhuCFvRkjDQZGVO_thArJF4J5KYAf7gg9jRvgHIOrun8p2LaLyfci3q7AVzKEdORgoiQXL7DwhJCHwfpqD3colg4SPuBQANIDoiNr/s90/3star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="90" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaSRdGayFrIu3DayZY3SwXeYs9XZm7fVF-EZI1N9FryOXyeZI6iFdmKtK_-0o15Na9FuteKwXG-_TgJQ4WlHcKLEBAhuCFvRkjDQZGVO_thArJF4J5KYAf7gg9jRvgHIOrun8p2LaLyfci3q7AVzKEdORgoiQXL7DwhJCHwfpqD3colg4SPuBQANIDoiNr/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-84272387280509086172024-03-12T12:41:00.004-04:002024-03-12T12:48:07.521-04:00Some of Us Had Been Threatening Our Friend Colby by Donald Barthelme<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm8EA7l5wV2NQ8dbvf7ZSlPb5lq1Gv3c1Q1rRBD_hMoASla-CHb4GSms6TZQr3tJe7kl6LKCHHSea25sXAF4DqygyX-Eu-FkoNeL0O4FvX_iE7WdzS2bxxd8WRzEYZyUVa-JrzcSdaY2C5SM2lAzIuVRTUQBcrqaDuxHG2xWXHybrsw0G0u8OSfD5Ki7z6/s540/noose.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="540" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm8EA7l5wV2NQ8dbvf7ZSlPb5lq1Gv3c1Q1rRBD_hMoASla-CHb4GSms6TZQr3tJe7kl6LKCHHSea25sXAF4DqygyX-Eu-FkoNeL0O4FvX_iE7WdzS2bxxd8WRzEYZyUVa-JrzcSdaY2C5SM2lAzIuVRTUQBcrqaDuxHG2xWXHybrsw0G0u8OSfD5Ki7z6/s320/noose.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hang em' high.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Donald Barthelme's "The School" is a classic short-story and my favorite of his thus far, but "Some of Us Had Been Threatening Our Friend Colby" is a close runner up. Or maybe it is my new favorite? I'm not sure yet. Regardless, this is an amazing short-story and worthy of the highest praise. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Surrealism, absurdity and acerbic wit all wrapped up in a dark satire, this work is quintessential Donald Barthelme. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">T</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">he presence of anachronisms adds an intriguing layer of comedy, blurring temporal lines. It could be set in the untamed landscapes of the Wild West or possibly amidst the backdrop of contemporary times. Moreover, t</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">he meticulous craftsmanship of the narrative is remarkable. Each word and every sentence flows seamlessly with a purpose, while leaving no room for extraneous details. For anyone interested in the art of the short-story, look no further. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">So, what exactly did Colby do to betray his close friends that would make them want to turn on him? We never find out the exact reason but this leaves room for Bartheleme's satirical humor to shine. It is the </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">ludicrous and convoluted procedures of bureaucracy that is attacked here, with particular emphasis on the nonsensical, inefficient and constant delays when it comes to decision making. While this could narrative technique could easily have become a gimmick, the author cleverly avoids such amateur pratfalls. Instead, the </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">caustic social commentary is sharp and hilarious, skillfully driving the narrative towards its heartfelt conclusion. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Some of Us Had Been Threatening Our Friend Colby" stands out as one of the finest short stories I've had the pleasure of reading this year, earning it an esteemed place in my personal hall of fame.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfGO8WQDoKam7YMYUiph0jMIoqZXp-Xhq3s6yTm-hCRcmoDutkqLeIMnukgHtn-0LRS7KW8wPx2zk0QZJ660gQ5oN_UqCHT_y5Z2tYJLTejZcaYHIKfSY5GDPFUdCm9G9hlhQ_uoiweOdMGYpKA42Nn0V_F-gx_VDVRMdhfkQaRi8MznlTJYC-UFrCrCd/s150/5star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="150" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfGO8WQDoKam7YMYUiph0jMIoqZXp-Xhq3s6yTm-hCRcmoDutkqLeIMnukgHtn-0LRS7KW8wPx2zk0QZJ660gQ5oN_UqCHT_y5Z2tYJLTejZcaYHIKfSY5GDPFUdCm9G9hlhQ_uoiweOdMGYpKA42Nn0V_F-gx_VDVRMdhfkQaRi8MznlTJYC-UFrCrCd/s1600/5star.png" width="150" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">You can read this story <a href="https://jessamyn.com/barth/colby.html">HERE</a></span></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-77204677113830132152024-03-11T10:32:00.007-04:002024-03-11T17:34:02.289-04:00The Hundred-Light Year Diary by Greg Egan<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZUkc9GMVYkvic3sF2EzYypa7XHcFMVB2PbtLJUQDN3dTOJjubKbpz5d81ZuDVHBiJbm0B2Zvq_btTNQR6RG7XEZOyoV2skksL2Br8WYnp23pENYWi0umQjzgeLHMSNQ_60lNNj32lWado84-N-gxQnNdBDope6hoyi0y5BOwTuHMjirD4LL_WcB5z-qT/s1000/axiomatic.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="652" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZUkc9GMVYkvic3sF2EzYypa7XHcFMVB2PbtLJUQDN3dTOJjubKbpz5d81ZuDVHBiJbm0B2Zvq_btTNQR6RG7XEZOyoV2skksL2Br8WYnp23pENYWi0umQjzgeLHMSNQ_60lNNj32lWado84-N-gxQnNdBDope6hoyi0y5BOwTuHMjirD4LL_WcB5z-qT/s320/axiomatic.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Shunting.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sometimes 'hard-science fiction' does not make for easy reading because it can feel like information overload, relying on devices like neologism, dialogism and complex scientific concepts that can be utterly perplexing. This is not meant to come across as a negative criticism of the genre. Any fan of science-fiction might be inclined to agree that this <i>cognitive estrangement</i> (coined by the SF critic Darko Suvin) is exciting in its unpredictability. It creates an intense curiosity, prompting the reader to engage with new concepts and think more critically about their own reality. The fun, at least for me, mostly resides in the pleasure of working out the underlying logic or "science" behind the author's vision.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In the case of "The Hundred-Light Year Diary", Greg Egan examines the concept of free will (or lack thereof) now that it is possible for the future self to communicate with their present self through a messaging system using light. However, this also means that the idea of history has now been altered, which can have major repercussions, both for the present and the future. Confused yet? Even though most of the science went way over the my head, the concept is fascinating, especially pertaining to the "gaps" found in these diary entries. In the current moment, the protagonist possesses foreknowledge of events through insights recorded in his future diary. Yet, as unanticipated situations unfold, some intense philosophical and moral conundrums emerge: how does one navigate the unforeseen within the framework of a preordained destiny? What is historical truth and can it be trusted? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In essence, this story is a total mind-trip that leaves the reader with many unanswered questions. The hard-science fiction encapsulate a rich complexity that might initially feel overwhelming due to its multitude of layered elements: Metaphysics, neurophysiology, ontology, information, disinformation, time-traveling paradoxes to name a few. I anticipate that my appreciation for "The Hundred-Light Year Diary"</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> will continue to blossom with each successive reading. The abundance of information, initially challenging to fully grasp on the first read, promises a deeper understanding upon subsequent explorations.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-ZhfwGxvlO07TOVHbPTu_9WSFSH8Of0ZEcPyicfHyCBCN8Enqag6-87NCbKzy1WwpO1YFOSthFLAt9lrOLzukInjkinqAzgcOP4jx8sozryspbtb1wiCQBocNNGOEqpTXdiqEnTxetWVWWtBIK4xy45K1dS_-H1g2aJd9sOmjbpBCDvZqef4F4HjQtGQ/s90/3star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="90" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-ZhfwGxvlO07TOVHbPTu_9WSFSH8Of0ZEcPyicfHyCBCN8Enqag6-87NCbKzy1WwpO1YFOSthFLAt9lrOLzukInjkinqAzgcOP4jx8sozryspbtb1wiCQBocNNGOEqpTXdiqEnTxetWVWWtBIK4xy45K1dS_-H1g2aJd9sOmjbpBCDvZqef4F4HjQtGQ/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-44256206742098821182024-03-10T16:19:00.005-04:002024-03-12T13:03:54.325-04:00The Cutie by Greg Egan<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuh0kqQ2regNKup8g3sIY-UjUMaYHVtPLBIrKjdaI5I6F7EZ_EpC85wftkC_pZhBWheaYeR2ZaaGej-ZbBXtw2YGVVM3Aa-O_W_DaJJjR6pBgcYE2nMgcvFk3GCnv_0-OUYvUjOmlWdiW5M2r7lplFvB6H_BAuovDkfNkNFm4dzZXpKTVt_41ynWd8e8ar/s1000/axiomatic.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="652" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuh0kqQ2regNKup8g3sIY-UjUMaYHVtPLBIrKjdaI5I6F7EZ_EpC85wftkC_pZhBWheaYeR2ZaaGej-ZbBXtw2YGVVM3Aa-O_W_DaJJjR6pBgcYE2nMgcvFk3GCnv_0-OUYvUjOmlWdiW5M2r7lplFvB6H_BAuovDkfNkNFm4dzZXpKTVt_41ynWd8e8ar/s320/axiomatic.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>ga-ga-goo-goo</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Greg Egan strikes again with another banger! While not as mind-blowingly awesome as "The Infinite Assassin", it still feels distinctly <i>Egan-esque: </i>a thought-provoking </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">science-fiction tale full of cool ideas with a razor-sharp and concise writing style that makes for an immersive reading experience. In "The Cutie," Egan proposes an interesting question: what if technology existed that made it possible for all genders to have babies? No, this story is nothing like that terrible comedy <i>Junior</i> with </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Arnold Schwarzenegger. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The male protagonist yearns for fatherhood and to embrace the joys of parenthood. Unfortunately, his wife feels differently, remaining steadfast in her decision to forgo having to give birth and raise children. This fundamental disagreement becomes the catalyst for their eventual separation. Feeling hopeless, he decides to purchase a Cutie--a sophisticated software and computer kit that comes comes in the mail. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The protagonist</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> is apprehensive at first and struggles with the controversial decision to be impregnated with a clone baby. There are definitely some body horror elements present as well. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Regardless of gender, the program allows the user to choose the baby's appearance down to the the smallest detail before the DNA is manipulated and fertilization occurs. The science behind this process is fascinating and feels totally plausible. Achieving such a seamless fusion of scientific speculation with narrative execution stands as a main objective for any exemplary hard science fiction narrative, and Greg Egan makes it look easy. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">However, these artificial babies come with a few caveats: Cuties have subhuman intelligence and are more like pets. They might look identical to babies and emulate various mannerisms such as smiling and babbling, but they will never learn to speak, walk or feed themselves without assistance. Does this make them any less human? Adding to the complexity, a poignant concern arises – their life expectancy is a mere four years before they quietly expire. Nurturing an emotional connection with them becomes a precarious endeavor, one that proves challenging to resist despite the inevitable heartache it may bring. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Furthermore, the story examines the multifaceted landscape of g</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">ender politics</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> and reproduction along with the extraordinary lengths individuals are willing to traverse to embark on the profound journey of parenthood. The exploration of these themes resonates with an unexpected poignancy that not only challenges societal norms but also draws upon the deeply human longing for connection with a child.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhnaUn-GddEAZukrzixL-fhdc3-DhFT0_xe7wWZSrvWKkjocjrWOKiUp-xNmmiXj7dlVBW1lGsOJKoo0RhEUA__ZA9aAZSKxHTnxxf66BP2Kelt4gwc9G_LH1ZltPcb-_LgbYdqeXiY8uygXwXvwy0GPJgtGqTmqLTQRRxKAV0BgTsaZFfsp1OLvnxmBKw/s120/4star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="120" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhnaUn-GddEAZukrzixL-fhdc3-DhFT0_xe7wWZSrvWKkjocjrWOKiUp-xNmmiXj7dlVBW1lGsOJKoo0RhEUA__ZA9aAZSKxHTnxxf66BP2Kelt4gwc9G_LH1ZltPcb-_LgbYdqeXiY8uygXwXvwy0GPJgtGqTmqLTQRRxKAV0BgTsaZFfsp1OLvnxmBKw/s1600/4star.png" width="120" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-56731764325945290492024-03-10T11:35:00.006-04:002024-03-10T11:46:15.388-04:00Rebecca by Donald Barthelme<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCfZYY8ZDQBzk7VGRPRgGp6t7TW_3cKmcC3FT56BQoWBY1tS4y6KfDpJnO8PBtOijhNNnsRxrZ_elQmzvgbJYthX2GeRRVe8Y240xlw4wxB4i1-6x5IJBBpfa5l-PZmi7eUQBHo90uXmnmh6dPJLn4q6R40DWfffTEQlhAtGWUwYkoHz764MWJqVNI5bI/s900/1-green-gecko-pete-orelup.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCfZYY8ZDQBzk7VGRPRgGp6t7TW_3cKmcC3FT56BQoWBY1tS4y6KfDpJnO8PBtOijhNNnsRxrZ_elQmzvgbJYthX2GeRRVe8Y240xlw4wxB4i1-6x5IJBBpfa5l-PZmi7eUQBHo90uXmnmh6dPJLn4q6R40DWfffTEQlhAtGWUwYkoHz764MWJqVNI5bI/s320/1-green-gecko-pete-orelup.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hi!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Two literary features often found in Donald Barthelme's short-stories is brevity and playfulness. He utilizes a wide variety of techniques, tones and styles but the concise framework allows for a more experimental approach. This particular story feels indicative of his postmodernist sensibilities, embracing the absurd while moving away from conventional plot, characterization and subjectivity. The most striking aspect of "Rebecca" is the intrusive narrative voice that is omniscient but also interjects, comments and inserts themselves directly into the story. Indeed, it is this meta-narrative and self-reflexivity that evinces much of the playful humor, blurring the boundaries between fiction and art. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The opening line highlights the author's penchant for surreal and absurdist humor: "Rebecca Lizard was trying to change her ugly, reptilian, thoroughly unacceptable last name. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Lizard," said the judge. "Lizard, Lizard, Lizard, Lizard. There's nothing wrong with it if you say it enough times. You can't clutter up the court's calendar with trivial little minor irritations." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Very funny stuff. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yet, t</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">here is a deeper meaning behind the absurd and satirical humor where a certain philosophical effect derives from playfully reveling in this multiplicity of narrative voices. Barthelme is some kind literary virtuoso, using Rebecca's existential dread of having an unfavorable last name as a springboard to explore complex issues of unconditional love, relationships, acceptance, self-compassion, life and death. It's quite remarkable that he manages to pull off this feat in such a limited amount of space.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bNwCN_daDfL9ST-_HR9GjeUZ01Y87aky8J55nwLhcGYAWleFrlFIb3MPq9VzsU5pH54aJnfTs3QDNMHq5J8B171-VUWi5_DLTPCZVv-N_9Q7cJNkCHVPnu1f41ZIWELqzd5QGBHFGxg0BO59wNYvEXcaSpCdn5jezfLFmxIZ5_PynhGjFMOPBEVEh2rK/s90/3star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="90" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bNwCN_daDfL9ST-_HR9GjeUZ01Y87aky8J55nwLhcGYAWleFrlFIb3MPq9VzsU5pH54aJnfTs3QDNMHq5J8B171-VUWi5_DLTPCZVv-N_9Q7cJNkCHVPnu1f41ZIWELqzd5QGBHFGxg0BO59wNYvEXcaSpCdn5jezfLFmxIZ5_PynhGjFMOPBEVEh2rK/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-76771055683725868992024-03-09T19:10:00.004-05:002024-03-10T09:33:34.401-04:00The Dragon by Ray Bradbury (1955)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijICN5kksKMEfIXG-AAZ11npJss7yXfade5Uz12fBYImz8GbFl8e2DvmX1DynZJJb134X87DsWGaE8Ie9WFEckH86NYmYSdxcgyfkFEPm2H5ek_b7csbuYfALiANKV4TuEYx_qH3lsA6YljKnfB1j7xQVrOPB9vPkBPcNOHqX6XJG2G3-wmtLNXxVwSn4x/s643/the%20dragon.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="643" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijICN5kksKMEfIXG-AAZ11npJss7yXfade5Uz12fBYImz8GbFl8e2DvmX1DynZJJb134X87DsWGaE8Ie9WFEckH86NYmYSdxcgyfkFEPm2H5ek_b7csbuYfALiANKV4TuEYx_qH3lsA6YljKnfB1j7xQVrOPB9vPkBPcNOHqX6XJG2G3-wmtLNXxVwSn4x/s320/the%20dragon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dragonforce!!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Here is another middle-tier offering from Bradbury--it's decent and well-written but probably won't leave a lasting impression. I have always admired his concise storytelling capabilities and ability to subvert genre conventions. This is a very short story and the brevity heightens the brisk pacing and suspense. Bradbury is playing around with some familiar fantasy tropes and medieval folklore involving knights and dragons. In this story, a large and vicious dragon has wrecked havoc in some undisclosed land and two knights are on a mission to slay it. They have been tracking it for several days across the desolate moors and the inherent fear of eventually encountering the dragon is palpable. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Bradbury's poetic and vivid descriptions are on display without detracting from building momentum towards the inevitable showdown. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">I won't spoil the ending but let's just say it is certainly a little jarring, further highlighting Bradbury's creative finesse to deliver the unexpected. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgvw3PY9723lEfDyfCakgYfWHhJQd3Y8kin1b3Mm4MNJVCgIh31rzCY3jfROndaPbnIlm0c4z1olKkPriB3wmsY6oXgtUdoYVR7Ib0PhhDjs6ST2o7UgE7SdUlCjsyjTt0Ar3CXgM896VJ8t2QApAkDWx0Rb785TQL-vnYIWXCfp_i-yXmy6s7FSLGqTc/s90/3star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="90" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgvw3PY9723lEfDyfCakgYfWHhJQd3Y8kin1b3Mm4MNJVCgIh31rzCY3jfROndaPbnIlm0c4z1olKkPriB3wmsY6oXgtUdoYVR7Ib0PhhDjs6ST2o7UgE7SdUlCjsyjTt0Ar3CXgM896VJ8t2QApAkDWx0Rb785TQL-vnYIWXCfp_i-yXmy6s7FSLGqTc/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-8630162516887291182024-03-09T18:16:00.006-05:002024-03-10T18:36:14.856-04:00The New Boyfriend by Kelly Link<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnUbWrXqdYEBU8_xjbQCEWAxZq6HTPi0YUHNlqAcxxRT_mFa4iuVkg9vFoTu_ck7W0vyvWllr6EUZO1xCe3SCVOCzAYh_8e2d4H2SXwC3gDRpbckJM1jfxXVz8Maf6AwB23Y5FyZgnYoeQx2WKSGzTg8Pg6eO01d7d4BjbpqAOL0-DdEM1ocbPNSz-cps/s360/twilight.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="235" data-original-width="360" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnUbWrXqdYEBU8_xjbQCEWAxZq6HTPi0YUHNlqAcxxRT_mFa4iuVkg9vFoTu_ck7W0vyvWllr6EUZO1xCe3SCVOCzAYh_8e2d4H2SXwC3gDRpbckJM1jfxXVz8Maf6AwB23Y5FyZgnYoeQx2WKSGzTg8Pg6eO01d7d4BjbpqAOL0-DdEM1ocbPNSz-cps/s320/twilight.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> <i>The Twilight comparisons are inevitable.</i> </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Despite the initial allure, 'The New Boyfriend' leaves one with a sense of unfulfilled potential, revealing itself as a curious, if somewhat uneven, addition to Kelly Link's unique repertoire. Hailing from her Pulitzer prize nominated collection, 'Get in Trouble,' I selected this story on a whim and it turned out to be mostly disappointing. Moreover, it would probably be more impactful if it were, in fact, shorter in length. Regrettably, the narrative is somewhat bloated, hindered by an excess of superfluous details that veers awfully close to novella territory. These unnecessary detours causes the story to stumble along before hitting a brick wall, ultimately contributing to a lackluster conclusion.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I recently reviewed another teenage girl coming of age story called "One Hundred-Percent Humidity" but Link's work could not be more different. Even though both stories involve a young female protagonist navigating social pressures and relationships for the first time, "New Boyfriend" is far more tame and whimsical. Anchored within the urban fantasy genre, the story fully embraces its supernatural quirkiness. Perhaps it is somewhat of a stretch, but to me, the story often felt like a Twilight parody if you replaced the brooding vampire boyfriends with ghosts. The young female protagonist, Imogen (although everyone calls her Immy), falls in love with her best friend's boyfriend who just so happens to be a ghost. Despite the seemingly absurd premise, it is convincing enough in this fantastical setting. On a more positive note, Link adeptly captures the complexities of teenage angst and shifting friendship dynamics that sometimes feel performative. In a supernatural context, the author manages to </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">poignantly explore </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Imogen's internal struggle with friendships and young love (with a ghost!), highlighting</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> the challenges inherent in navigating the tumultuous landscape of youth and relationships. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Also, here is a r</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">andom nitpick: Why are these teenager girls always guzzling absinthe like it's water without any adverse side effects? </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2F9aC_sbIZNSF0tHneoBMLLWsPuUFYym9pUrJtNt80KQSr1WIZn0lTpbdowF4If28XBYBRdsybALoffkO8-5pLj7xZJKno7-DZOlwIa9-gyUJ5aN24XUGRADAoHYlL1Jm0u9z1cnrzoL3iFGKlchfBscJY47kSxHjbhkPT7kPPh3VqU1UQB3Xt955Eahj/s60/2star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="60" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2F9aC_sbIZNSF0tHneoBMLLWsPuUFYym9pUrJtNt80KQSr1WIZn0lTpbdowF4If28XBYBRdsybALoffkO8-5pLj7xZJKno7-DZOlwIa9-gyUJ5aN24XUGRADAoHYlL1Jm0u9z1cnrzoL3iFGKlchfBscJY47kSxHjbhkPT7kPPh3VqU1UQB3Xt955Eahj/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-22070618747023924162024-03-07T22:34:00.008-05:002024-03-08T08:15:48.104-05:00The Infinite Assassin by Greg Egan<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWFP-himHiK2yHNX57vSvGyP9vZL9x9SKBiXn0cJtJ_EOeDgtOX4xJxteAY4nLVgjWzW_utv4sEn8R95EJRt3pAq1qcF3pyBTEyMGrC4M3IzIzDBEgTh2bCTuNlxbIargJ4ECcVim-atRxerj4p9f4mwgAY4GtYV4L2mO4s_elqz7grVTNEW1benh3cPtA/s1000/axiomatic.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="652" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWFP-himHiK2yHNX57vSvGyP9vZL9x9SKBiXn0cJtJ_EOeDgtOX4xJxteAY4nLVgjWzW_utv4sEn8R95EJRt3pAq1qcF3pyBTEyMGrC4M3IzIzDBEgTh2bCTuNlxbIargJ4ECcVim-atRxerj4p9f4mwgAY4GtYV4L2mO4s_elqz7grVTNEW1benh3cPtA/s320/axiomatic.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Whirlpools and measure zero.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Greg Egan is some kind of enigmatic, sci-fi literary genius. I don't remember the last time I encountered a short-story that was so intensely gripping where it felt like I needed to catch my breath after reaching the final sentence. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">"The Infinite Assassin" is a </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">non-stop, adrenaline pumping, high-octane cyberpunk thriller! It is a masterclass in storytelling and </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">impeccable narrative pacing. Devoid of any extraneous details, the writing is so tightly polished with a mind-bending plot that is utterly fascinating while leaving you on the edge of your seat the entire way through. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As hinted by the title, the protagonist is a time traveling assassin. He works for "The Company" and has been tasked with tracking down a cult using a highly powerful drug called "S" that can alter realities. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Get ready to embark on a thrilling ride through multiple dimensions, parallel worlds, alter-egos, shifting universes, time-traveling paradoxes, cults, and a myriad of cyberpunk coolness all intricately woven into a riveting narrative. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Greg Egan fuses hard-science fiction with masterful storytelling techniques, yielding a dazzling spectacle of imagination that crescendos to an ending that will surely knock your socks off. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0vKb951xU5ADOWATBEln-MyRzCS0BGyc4E1lc7O5TB0GIJ3HaeDWREVx9Hoc_y0aaICQJ4CSKJzieZ6wKhKw-4JPiPvU0O2CY9KHzHDpehERPt3xQLmfCduGIMxltl9RN8LUIlyPqzzH7GScBTkjsuB8jQ_YM6DXduBE5sRE3jK1K-qSCZ1SENIzKYsz/s150/5star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="150" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0vKb951xU5ADOWATBEln-MyRzCS0BGyc4E1lc7O5TB0GIJ3HaeDWREVx9Hoc_y0aaICQJ4CSKJzieZ6wKhKw-4JPiPvU0O2CY9KHzHDpehERPt3xQLmfCduGIMxltl9RN8LUIlyPqzzH7GScBTkjsuB8jQ_YM6DXduBE5sRE3jK1K-qSCZ1SENIzKYsz/s1600/5star.png" width="150" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-72003894329659294522024-03-07T13:56:00.018-05:002024-03-08T08:31:08.784-05:00One Hundred Percent Humidity by Michelle Lyn King<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBwzSu23FFgN3tRHxdCPHusKOGycykYSKL4Tq_UrmYRMFD0doVZE9FyELRgDOdcrK6yK9oQVnGw3nGSgFipemOU535GOB0Wt5hjx_qbpkAqcVUhSIUNUP4UFzp5EIAgr1VdMBE-fOx7lYxfNUv5Hn8Xxqz7OfCnnMXFXQORSFEznStxLUqqRjsSAiUUXJ/s2000/party1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBwzSu23FFgN3tRHxdCPHusKOGycykYSKL4Tq_UrmYRMFD0doVZE9FyELRgDOdcrK6yK9oQVnGw3nGSgFipemOU535GOB0Wt5hjx_qbpkAqcVUhSIUNUP4UFzp5EIAgr1VdMBE-fOx7lYxfNUv5Hn8Xxqz7OfCnnMXFXQORSFEznStxLUqqRjsSAiUUXJ/s320/party1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Unmasking the social pressures of teenage sex.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Discovering the sheer number of free literary works online, particularly short stories, continues to be truly astonishing. In an attempt to explore more</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> 'contemporary fiction',</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> t</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">hese various online publications have been crucial in expanding my reading horizons. Not to mention, they have introduced me to a plethora of new writers and literary works that otherwise would not be on my radar. Michelle Lyn King's "One Hundred Percent Humidity" falls into this category and I can safely say, without a shadow of a doubt, that it takes the prize for the most disturbing and uncomfortable reading experiences in recent memory. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As a coming of age story, the author is going for pure shock-value here. It utilizes a narrative framework of psychological realism in depicting the trauma of a fourteen year girl navigating the complexities of peer pressure associated with losing her virginity. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is not necessarily a negative criticism of the work itself.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">By focusing on the protagonist's inner world, the narrative aspires to eschew with the mere scrutiny of reckless teenage behavior. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instead of inviting searing condemnation, this framework encourages readers to empathize with the young girl, particularly during moments of heightened vulnerability. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Trigger warning: this story contains several graphic scenes of teenagers engaged in sexual activities. Please stay far away if you find this subject matter offensive.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Go ahead, feel free to label me as old fashioned or a prude; maybe I'm simply accustomed to a more subtle, poetic approach in the depiction of sexuality in literature. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yet, it seems a multitude of Gen Z writers, such as Michelle Lyn King, boldly embrace an unapologetic stance against such censorship, while</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> pushing the boundaries of certain literary expectations. I can respect this radical approach but it's just not my cup of earl grey. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I find myself conflicted about the overall merits of this story. On the one hand, the author successfully crafts a provocative and shocking depiction of teenage sexuality. At the same time, it is difficult for me to overlook the blatant sensationalism employed for dramatic effect, revealing a narrative that, despite its surface intrigue, seems to lack a more profound underlying significance. I'm left with two nagging questions: who is the target audience for this story and what deeper meaning does it strive to communicate about teenage sexuality that isn't already apparent?</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fpTJZPXqdACHswN4wtzYBJ7qZAifN6MS4qFLyYkkpO-xYUYDL6TvS6Whva-XcKqMElVaib6gISZxQGvNjgxIRSTcPCfIfvsWZOuqIsGKhQzvMCUfx7SSDkUJOWyd1hZcp-aAwLhVEJeTYTT52ZhOhpeo7-y7RSZ0mc4UW5y_jnC5Q9o5IFcT0nrNehzQ/s60/2star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="60" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fpTJZPXqdACHswN4wtzYBJ7qZAifN6MS4qFLyYkkpO-xYUYDL6TvS6Whva-XcKqMElVaib6gISZxQGvNjgxIRSTcPCfIfvsWZOuqIsGKhQzvMCUfx7SSDkUJOWyd1hZcp-aAwLhVEJeTYTT52ZhOhpeo7-y7RSZ0mc4UW5y_jnC5Q9o5IFcT0nrNehzQ/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-83718557625519863242024-03-05T19:03:00.007-05:002024-03-06T11:53:44.113-05:00How to Travel with a Salmon by Umberto Eco<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFyJ858KC_VyzpHILzBOexj7bBqrvF6yXOjXKkq0zBVcshEU12QMU_f0Bkn8bymubRwF1HZBRR45txCHI7msxmdIB87nVvQ-O1RAFMlsnJzdNJfZNYB3kDp50auG3WrPUsg3vJ60hq3OO0NNyRbdRi7K47GvIRYcVHZ2ODfSZC5vq9auiGrKw_cQbrX_HM/s796/umbertoecosalmon.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="796" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFyJ858KC_VyzpHILzBOexj7bBqrvF6yXOjXKkq0zBVcshEU12QMU_f0Bkn8bymubRwF1HZBRR45txCHI7msxmdIB87nVvQ-O1RAFMlsnJzdNJfZNYB3kDp50auG3WrPUsg3vJ60hq3OO0NNyRbdRi7K47GvIRYcVHZ2ODfSZC5vq9auiGrKw_cQbrX_HM/s320/umbertoecosalmon.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"Honey, don't forget to pack your salmon for work!"</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Now this is how you write an effective comedic short-story! Umberto Eco has always been one of those intimidating authors for me but this delightfully absurd tale was quite accessible and hilarious from start to finish. Shorter in length than most short-stories, this is a lightning-quick read and never skips a beat. To give you an idea of the kind of zany humor you will encounter here, the opening sentence sets the tone for Eco's off-beat humor and acerbic wit: "According to the newspapers, there are two chief problems that beset the modern world: the invasion of the computer, and the alarming extension of the Third World. The newspapers are right, and I know it." Or, how about: "I asked for a lawyer, and they brought me an avocado." Even without context, these lines are funny to me.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In the hands of a less adept writer, this whimsical story would be doomed to fail. The protagonist is an author visiting Sweden and encounters all sorts of tomfoolery and miscommunication with hotel staff after storing a recently purchased salmon in his hotel room's mini-fridge. Yet, despite the absurdity of this premise, </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">there is a cohesive logic to the comedic narrative. Profoundly entertaining, Eco's</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> wry humor and intellectual playfulness emphasize the absurdities of life </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">inherent in the human experience.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gXfz7FPTlH48ghTes-HVZYxpVFKVsI5aLlzU3Xk3YbSjg1LOziHhgxwo7RyxrD4yz-UbCmJv1drYhhITQiOH5SZTqZ2FviwGRKYKomjvp6Kpz1mIIlUi4ZA9yhZb-iRsKTQyUXAv22UWd-x1mHy4Gtq2ZmSXqsgBwbNG106rsn8wxrwOi-S13ozLb3IS/s120/4star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="120" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gXfz7FPTlH48ghTes-HVZYxpVFKVsI5aLlzU3Xk3YbSjg1LOziHhgxwo7RyxrD4yz-UbCmJv1drYhhITQiOH5SZTqZ2FviwGRKYKomjvp6Kpz1mIIlUi4ZA9yhZb-iRsKTQyUXAv22UWd-x1mHy4Gtq2ZmSXqsgBwbNG106rsn8wxrwOi-S13ozLb3IS/s1600/4star.png" width="120" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">You can read this story <a href="https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2016/02/22/how-to-travel-with-a-salmon/">HERE.</a></span></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-46728664771260426152024-03-05T13:18:00.008-05:002024-03-07T14:05:43.421-05:00The Man Child by James Baldwin<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGhHg-y2gFWZuiQ3IN7EFay-sp8YqNa5zIHqkDfvq5pl3iYkLAUTXhv9fX7Hs4qv1uHjPsZ9n5KsfNCreyvGu6BY4KqCjGA5zeVHGSIdGoNnT8fqtPoRqwhJwKV6w3CR6OLnURKvWPL2YIBo8s7kNUdAPAlVdDNrXGHP6wy6BDhXNEg8Q8aECJzSLhjC3/s1000/goingtomeettheman.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="648" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGhHg-y2gFWZuiQ3IN7EFay-sp8YqNa5zIHqkDfvq5pl3iYkLAUTXhv9fX7Hs4qv1uHjPsZ9n5KsfNCreyvGu6BY4KqCjGA5zeVHGSIdGoNnT8fqtPoRqwhJwKV6w3CR6OLnURKvWPL2YIBo8s7kNUdAPAlVdDNrXGHP6wy6BDhXNEg8Q8aECJzSLhjC3/s320/goingtomeettheman.jpg" width="207" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I Am Not Your Negro.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">One of the many reasons why I find myself drawn to short-stories is that the really good ones tend to be intensely dramatic in their compactness but also thrive on ambiguity, thereby creating an opportunity for the reader to fill in the gaps. "The Man Child" by James Baldwin is shockingly tragic and fits this description because the characters are revealed without much elaboration, their motivations not entirely clear. Moreover, not much really happens in terms of "plot" until the unexpected ending that leaves plenty of unanswered questions. It is one of those huge WTF moments that seems to come out of leftfield, completely blindsiding the reader and forcing them reconsider everything that came before this pivotal moment. Baldwin has a few literary tricks up his sleeve and manages to cleverly lull the reader into a false sense of complacency before yanking the rug out from underneath. Similar to other memorable short-stories, there is a lot more nuance and intricate details that might not be fully apparent upon a first reading. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Many of Baldwin's fictional works attempt to articulate the harsh experiences of African Americans but in this story, all the characters are white. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The story unfolds through the eyes of Eric, an eight-year-old residing on a large farm with his devoted parents. His father's closest companion is Jaime, the amiable local farmhand. Together, they forge deep connections, whether sipping drinks at the nearby tavern or simply enjoying each other's company on the farm. Jaime is seamlessly woven into their familial fabric, sharing meals and receiving care from Eric's mother, who diligently tends to his clothing. They go above and beyond, even marking Jaime's birthday with a heartfelt celebration at the farmhouse, complete with the wife baking him a cake. Yet, the idyllic scene is abruptly shattered in a moment of incomprehensible madness, plunging everything into inexplicable chaos. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Baldwin's artistic sensibilities seem to be encapsulated within an underlying religious subtext. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Purposefully open to interpretation, one could view this story as a biblical parable (Cain and Abel), a philosophical exploration of evil or the divine condemnation of sin. He</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> demonstrates his skill as a short-story writer, </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">crafting a narrative that sneaks up on you with a shocking ending that isn't easily shaken off; it will linger in your thoughts and not be be easily forgotten.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBM1AfxrbcOJlzuddw6QFxtmHWw1k0F4Q43PvZTin5FhKFoJbJzwMtcfTFcTiuiTM9QoWFzAKpZLxWPWd475W-NpMTJyp3An9YUfOMkLi3XIvOTGZZj__IDuZ-nd_w3FEnhApNRtwtD1YW_DIGZG0Lvo26-n5JborszZZS8s_IxgU9wuyAxECBsSSK4kll/s120/4star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="120" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBM1AfxrbcOJlzuddw6QFxtmHWw1k0F4Q43PvZTin5FhKFoJbJzwMtcfTFcTiuiTM9QoWFzAKpZLxWPWd475W-NpMTJyp3An9YUfOMkLi3XIvOTGZZj__IDuZ-nd_w3FEnhApNRtwtD1YW_DIGZG0Lvo26-n5JborszZZS8s_IxgU9wuyAxECBsSSK4kll/s1600/4star.png" width="120" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-43555018440522865322024-03-05T10:38:00.005-05:002024-03-05T13:54:01.244-05:00A Medicine for Melancholy by Ray Bradbury<p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9nIqMl75oAcZJuD5g4NRrHcDvgF0slsagKjXKe95sKR32SxPwa7136v3XbUOGKx7odT2s7r9qFIH3vEaEPgSn31LBLO7eJ681bVjrSB9_2bU2mVgIdccNVX8YTZvj9vM8fhZztQ63_36FAWbgJRYOcsZc1DaerZG12_a_7l3-_FfwYOJJNKP_iONWZMfb/s600/medicineformelancholy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="363" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9nIqMl75oAcZJuD5g4NRrHcDvgF0slsagKjXKe95sKR32SxPwa7136v3XbUOGKx7odT2s7r9qFIH3vEaEPgSn31LBLO7eJ681bVjrSB9_2bU2mVgIdccNVX8YTZvj9vM8fhZztQ63_36FAWbgJRYOcsZc1DaerZG12_a_7l3-_FfwYOJJNKP_iONWZMfb/s320/medicineformelancholy.jpg" width="194" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep"</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="font-family: georgia;">There are bound to be more than a few rotten eggs amongst the thousands of short stories by Ray Bradbury and "Medicine for Melancholy" is certainly one of them. This was quite awful and completely forgettable. I am shocked that publishers even deemed the title story worthy of representing the entire collection--a blatant case of false advertising if you ask me! If not for the association with the author's name, I would have easily mistaken it for the work of someone else, as it deviates significantly from his typical style. Perhaps he sought to step out of his comfort zone and venture beyond the confines of the typical speculative science-fiction genre expected of him. I can respect an author trying to do something different. However, in this case, delving into a bizarre fantasy folklore narrative proved to be a huge misstep.</p><p style="font-family: georgia;">The silly plot takes place in London during ye olden days, maybe it's the 1800s? Anyways, the time period doesn't really matter. Some rich girl from a noble family is suffering from a mysterious illness. After seeing many doctors and receiving various treatments, nothing seems to work. The doctor's are quacks and their exploits are supposed to be funny but the outlandish humor falls flat. Everyone is baffled that the girl's health continues to deteriorate at an exponential rate. Until, the family has an ingenious idea that some fresh air would do her good and she should sleep outside. Alone. Late at night she is approached by a stranger covered in soot, a "Dustman" or chimney sweeper. He has the perfect remedy for curing her illness, SEX. How scandalous, Mr. Bradbury! My theory is that the author smoked some really good weed and was on a cosmic joyride while writing this story, or maybe he was just having an off-kind of day. I presume most prolific authors stumble into the twilight zone of creativity at some point. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibz65sdVS4kL4sRqnHzuYk1YBpV78jjZDbHh04wiQrXBzGh98YmiW5sxpCS_3q_LQd81XIv1ffdig3vr5Ae5BDtoEKRuBB0jWFkGfyAZ3L1NzIq32hV5C8AubQIYfXG5Sl3gnl0KfEiwLm8fREoIXPVhkCfI5AVpwlkK64tScc9zUYJC1g5te2un_HosK2/s37/1star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="31" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibz65sdVS4kL4sRqnHzuYk1YBpV78jjZDbHh04wiQrXBzGh98YmiW5sxpCS_3q_LQd81XIv1ffdig3vr5Ae5BDtoEKRuBB0jWFkGfyAZ3L1NzIq32hV5C8AubQIYfXG5Sl3gnl0KfEiwLm8fREoIXPVhkCfI5AVpwlkK64tScc9zUYJC1g5te2un_HosK2/s1600/1star.png" width="31" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-9911858184804836902024-03-04T18:04:00.014-05:002024-03-08T09:39:32.682-05:00Deer in the Works by Kurt Vonnegut<p></p><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz396o3EzLxMrXP7vCVgltKALgHVK82CDCCWYRKmSuw245b_-uB04NoQqf3IKY1FKm_oz6kiUn98NHp1_8OKThdRbO7LrMwDpFXybvx1cbXqozYzVgKCkU5jVYQ1TwROuvt8MojhcOUpNycS93akBt3HGU90t-fNm8k7fJhd5HZvrJEfurq4BqLWtr_7Yp/s320/welcometothemonkeyhouse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="209" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz396o3EzLxMrXP7vCVgltKALgHVK82CDCCWYRKmSuw245b_-uB04NoQqf3IKY1FKm_oz6kiUn98NHp1_8OKThdRbO7LrMwDpFXybvx1cbXqozYzVgKCkU5jVYQ1TwROuvt8MojhcOUpNycS93akBt3HGU90t-fNm8k7fJhd5HZvrJEfurq4BqLWtr_7Yp/s1600/welcometothemonkeyhouse.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I think it is time for me to take a break from Kurt Vonnegut. "Deer in the Works" is caustic political satire, poking fun at bureaucracy gone haywire. The naive protagonist is trapped within the bizarro world of corporate shenanigans where everything is topsy-turvey.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Eager to start his new role in public relations at the company, the protagonist's disposition swiftly unravels into cynical disbelief. His first assignment from the new boss entails the preposterous mission of tracking down a loose deer within the labyrinthine confines of this massive factory compound. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Perhaps some of the satirical humor went over my head because I found none of it funny. I might have chuckled once. The comedic set pieces came across as more irksome than amusing, with the gimmick gradually wearing thin. The narrative unfolds as a sequence of increasingly absurd escapades, and just as the protagonist nears the brink of despair, the deer magically appears. Suddenly, his boss pulls up in a limousine with the photographer to capture this auspicious moment in the company's history (again, very silly stuff). At this crucial juncture, the protagonist is facing a conundrum. While the job offers financial security for his growing family (the wife just gave birth to twin girls), it also thrusts him into the role of a mere "yes man," burdened with the absurd tasks dictated by the higher-ups—relegated to being just another cog in the vast machinery of corporate nonsense.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The inevitable weight of this realization makes his final decision all the more inevitable.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJXSD6qv67xj8jzNWHA_0IVIVNYGv5FsVtQy6Pn3rfUehTsE1DtppJrmAQotG8YUNDpHK5jh-sGNiqOE7cUzMdAM2tZ4xsEky5WvTnMxvkxDq3cer3PVh1rRA6a9SvO_HBaRuc7wwuAizIxsOO3jWLxlaQzEFpUadWW5P41129pCUsIdlp-RPoBuOxDA1/s60/2star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="60" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJXSD6qv67xj8jzNWHA_0IVIVNYGv5FsVtQy6Pn3rfUehTsE1DtppJrmAQotG8YUNDpHK5jh-sGNiqOE7cUzMdAM2tZ4xsEky5WvTnMxvkxDq3cer3PVh1rRA6a9SvO_HBaRuc7wwuAizIxsOO3jWLxlaQzEFpUadWW5P41129pCUsIdlp-RPoBuOxDA1/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-26939022112439041502024-03-04T17:29:00.004-05:002024-03-04T17:31:47.022-05:00D.P. by Kurt Vonnegut<p></p><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ch4U9C2TP5ivhuI3ZNZGZx6MX9p2zkt7Ah5ToLpr7lyTlcs8ml-5wnZJiZVObOuv2VA1FPCUE1WnnWUFhJOAkTuzftRoVxwQxzzFr0XM6Ipea_KCygoWt23PFZrDouPyjkWYwnl8QWITwVhA_2daJXYm5FcFRfjyEpPG0KX5OlkKZ5MEy1rnOGTvxHCy/s1000/welcometothemonkeyhouse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="654" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ch4U9C2TP5ivhuI3ZNZGZx6MX9p2zkt7Ah5ToLpr7lyTlcs8ml-5wnZJiZVObOuv2VA1FPCUE1WnnWUFhJOAkTuzftRoVxwQxzzFr0XM6Ipea_KCygoWt23PFZrDouPyjkWYwnl8QWITwVhA_2daJXYm5FcFRfjyEpPG0KX5OlkKZ5MEy1rnOGTvxHCy/s320/welcometothemonkeyhouse.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Despite my initial reservations towards this story about a black orphan navigating life in WWII-era Germany, penned by a white author from the 1950s, this actually turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Granted, I was expecting the overt racism to show up in spades but Vonnegut does a good job of building sympathy for the young black protagonist living in a small German village currently occupied by Americans. As the only black kid in the orphanage, he is picked on by the other kids because of his skin color. Even the local townsfolk make light-hearted racist comments when they see him, preferring to call him Joe Louis, like the famous boxer. Experiencing a sense of alienation and a profound yearning to discover his true family, Joe serendipitously stumbles upon a group of American soldiers conducting reconnaissance near the woods surrounding the orphanage. Among them is an African-American soldier who captivates Joe's attention, igniting a compelling belief within him—that this soldier might, in fact, be his long-lost father.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Subsequent to this encounter, unfolds a poignant and unexpectedly heartfelt interaction between Joe and the soldiers, a delicate interplay that deftly sidesteps the potential for undue sentimentality. While the symbolism of the sparrow with the broken leg may lean toward the explicit, it is a forgivable nuance that doesn't detract too much from the story. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Similar to Vonnegut's other story titled "Adam", the choice of the title "D.P." eludes my comprehension. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkGxupdS2PEyVkzvyYn-eMeb4DT86uv556u0wulH9MjI9EJMGy3H2idJMaYOfoRCgk_KkdJ4ZcVLtzGlHbUgkl3HO5zjq8XBp7wc6Nm0dCLu2jfFFNbLQVkVHHD070ajsmutwMx8lYyAU2Ac3N0tTa1xQAHkgLc4qD4vPfXwTab85BWEviNpb3foBK_ER/s90/3star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="90" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkGxupdS2PEyVkzvyYn-eMeb4DT86uv556u0wulH9MjI9EJMGy3H2idJMaYOfoRCgk_KkdJ4ZcVLtzGlHbUgkl3HO5zjq8XBp7wc6Nm0dCLu2jfFFNbLQVkVHHD070ajsmutwMx8lYyAU2Ac3N0tTa1xQAHkgLc4qD4vPfXwTab85BWEviNpb3foBK_ER/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-11918826077365547642024-03-04T14:34:00.006-05:002024-03-04T15:00:09.539-05:00Uses of the Erotic by Audre Lorde (essay)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnCp_2mSLkhg-7iEJ9XfebtI-jXfMKwqmDVA-Rrb2nWLe0MBczZXAiFbjNdevfB_n2dWC8vgDy9ya8j-6Hh8QE3bVcdY1xRpVHVlJVESM2tB2dU39HoEz-9RAsqwYtCLIRvF550UgAR9KfbM1EdyIRBg0mwez1SwG3fK4KJTawbDzmu4-sLrP37XHjlYl/s550/sister_outsider.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="367" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnCp_2mSLkhg-7iEJ9XfebtI-jXfMKwqmDVA-Rrb2nWLe0MBczZXAiFbjNdevfB_n2dWC8vgDy9ya8j-6Hh8QE3bVcdY1xRpVHVlJVESM2tB2dU39HoEz-9RAsqwYtCLIRvF550UgAR9KfbM1EdyIRBg0mwez1SwG3fK4KJTawbDzmu4-sLrP37XHjlYl/s320/sister_outsider.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A seminal black feminist text. </i></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm deviating from my normal routine of reviewing short-stories and focusing on a powerful short-essay instead: "Uses of the Erotic" by Audre Lorde. As a black feminist writer, she has the uncanny ability to tackle the complex issues of race, gender, and sexuality with impressive lyrical finesse. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The crux of this essay explores the "erotic" outside of a heteronormative sexual context that should be understood as being intrinsically linked to empowerment, knowledge, identity and creativity. Under the oppressive structures of patriarchy, she posits that men use the erotic as a source of control to objectify and abuse women, reducing them to the pornographic: "pornography emphasizes sensation without feeling." Instead, women should reclaim their erotic power that has been repressed because the patriarchy seeks to rob them of their vital strengths, ensuring that they remain subservient as the inferior sex.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Additionally, the author is keen to to emphasize the spiritual element of the erotic that is often overlooked, described as "sharing deeply any pursuit with another person." Hence, the erotic is not only rooted in the physical but also within the emotional, and intellectual as well. It is this spiritually erotic connection with another person that helps to build a foundation of trust, understanding and deep connection with others. Moreover, it opens up the capacity for self-reflection; a means to experience joy, establishing a stronger "self-connection", being more emotionally attuned to one's needs. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">She claims that men fear the erotic, since it relinquishes their power that can only manifest in the bedroom. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Once women fully embrace the erotic, they will start connecting with their most authentic self: "for once we feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that they feel in accordance with the joy which we know ourselves capable of." </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">By embracing the erotic, especially for black women, it becomes an impetus for social change that can be weaponized to dismantle white supremacy, racism and patriarchy. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Mic drop.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjbrc3l_BM0xZm2imKZUU7AG3ptG848QAYleqHm9km35R9r30RxAgYcvWNYU-kJH942tH60GRTg7opUV2_AndycS8lPt7ToNaoytXrvBtnN1CSzYM-v0VTGFCfByWALbiAkHuaHL_MSoo27MHH3G8tVuTw7XslqnOl6uWgoW9pTQgzTF8-ZDTB128O1A1/s120/4star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="120" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjbrc3l_BM0xZm2imKZUU7AG3ptG848QAYleqHm9km35R9r30RxAgYcvWNYU-kJH942tH60GRTg7opUV2_AndycS8lPt7ToNaoytXrvBtnN1CSzYM-v0VTGFCfByWALbiAkHuaHL_MSoo27MHH3G8tVuTw7XslqnOl6uWgoW9pTQgzTF8-ZDTB128O1A1/s1600/4star.png" width="120" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-36772918503193399602024-03-04T13:07:00.006-05:002024-03-04T13:54:02.758-05:00Appropriate Love by Greg Egan<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztiQ2G1ECs0l8PNUxiycD7sWLqssi8n8YXH-EywPbxf4Vfl7-u-zUOyVLHC0RTpq2TxqkTTIuFsBmZlyI0tKMGY_0IIrQ7nRRRZ8O9G-hCbPH0lp9O8ZHy8pBrMWtz3QO6JccwEOmfr7O5rMtCD-uNdKVSxihR68w3JjYP3ev1OjCvSjbEi4vBuv3Agis/s738/pregnancy.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="550" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztiQ2G1ECs0l8PNUxiycD7sWLqssi8n8YXH-EywPbxf4Vfl7-u-zUOyVLHC0RTpq2TxqkTTIuFsBmZlyI0tKMGY_0IIrQ7nRRRZ8O9G-hCbPH0lp9O8ZHy8pBrMWtz3QO6JccwEOmfr7O5rMtCD-uNdKVSxihR68w3JjYP3ev1OjCvSjbEi4vBuv3Agis/s320/pregnancy.png" width="238" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This is not your normal kind of pregnancy.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">Perhaps Greg Egan is revered in literary science-fiction circles </span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">but he seems to be one of those authors that has been flying under the radar for decades. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">He deserves recognition </span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">not only as an outstanding science-fiction writer but as a truly exceptional author. Egan consistently delivers some of the coolest and mind-bending concepts with impressive writing chops to back it up--concise, fast-paced and fully immersive. So far, each short-story in this collection ("Axiomatic") has been truly exceptional and could be a stand-alone episode of <i>Black Mirror.</i></span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">I fear that it is only a matter of time before some</span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;"> Hollywood studio gets their grubby hands on his work and butchers the material. Until that fateful day, </span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">let us savor the richness of these stories, reveling in the extraordinary talent on display. </span></div><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Appropriate Love" presents a fascinating premise: a woman's husband has been terribly injured in a train accident and will need to remain on life-support indefinitely. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Even though his body is destroyed, the brain remains active, albeit in a coma state. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The doctor's are certain that he will never make a fully recovery. Instead of pulling the plug, they propose a radical solution. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">There is a new scientific program with highly advanced technology that will remove the brain and implant it in her womb. Essentially, she will be pregnant for two years with her husband's brain until it can be safely removed and implanted into a clone body. While understandably reluctant at first, </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">she eventually decides to go through with the procedure to save her husband's life. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Disturbing as this all sounds, the 'science' presented here feels entirely believable and could potentially be possible in the future. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The narrative extensively delves into her inner world, where she grapples with the profound responsibility and conflicting moral dilemmas of giving birth of her husband's brain. Not to mention, the physical toll is immense, enduring a two-year pregnancy fraught with potential health risks. The author shifts the focus from the wild science fiction concepts to the wife's psychological journey, embedding the story in an emotional framework that heightens the poignancy of the climax. Truly brilliant storytelling and I can't wait to read more stories from this collection.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMIGROF_6ATF8JlzLj1k7Dzcg2Hhl1UdLN6avsS8giYDVrNeqppVw0pGFmkHhKVlg2yYua3R_QsBaBteRwsIdyqsfCDyhbadtU8TM8rX8vC2_6Z5Oglx3dNbXPLOMo15MezWDpzRgUyLOlwcpAF8w3Mvt2GVAmmnA1iImyDpPHRswtIqBgFm1RhFG-Q98Y/s120/4star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="120" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMIGROF_6ATF8JlzLj1k7Dzcg2Hhl1UdLN6avsS8giYDVrNeqppVw0pGFmkHhKVlg2yYua3R_QsBaBteRwsIdyqsfCDyhbadtU8TM8rX8vC2_6Z5Oglx3dNbXPLOMo15MezWDpzRgUyLOlwcpAF8w3Mvt2GVAmmnA1iImyDpPHRswtIqBgFm1RhFG-Q98Y/s1600/4star.png" width="120" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-62401243229491907672024-03-03T21:08:00.003-05:002024-03-03T21:09:39.660-05:00All Gold Canyon by Jack London<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorSf7aVCIcTQZK72O1m-STVIJIMGu9brhEbrlayynQC7bk-cl4_KPPajxNWtWYDHSk0aI98Q6HnEVaDClEPH8X2iOSckNH1y20O6hCcpBNeQy2zkS8EFOTYvaZPtNQfF3J0_pPEbxZ0jaWMA_hMn9QiPBXsscnkR7c8c_vSiKQoPV1oTTTc7zL_hNhDxA/s599/panning%20gold.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="444" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorSf7aVCIcTQZK72O1m-STVIJIMGu9brhEbrlayynQC7bk-cl4_KPPajxNWtWYDHSk0aI98Q6HnEVaDClEPH8X2iOSckNH1y20O6hCcpBNeQy2zkS8EFOTYvaZPtNQfF3J0_pPEbxZ0jaWMA_hMn9QiPBXsscnkR7c8c_vSiKQoPV1oTTTc7zL_hNhDxA/s320/panning%20gold.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Panning for gold in the mid-1800's.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div><span>Any fans of the HBO show </span><i style="font-family: georgia;">Deadwood</i><span style="font-family: georgia;">, will likely get a kick out of this story. </span><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">My exposure to Jack London's naturalistic fiction has been quite limited but my esteem for his writing continues to steadily grow with each new story that I encounter. "All Gold Canyon" is impressive for its poetic depiction of nature as this vastly beautiful space but also an untamable realm fraught with danger. The rugged wilderness demands both respect and caution. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Individuals find themselves at the mercy of these powerful forces or their own animal brutishness. Metaphors and symbolism are often used to highlight thematic expression, underlying the social truths of surviving in these harsh environments. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In this story, Jack London's 'American naturalism' is gritty and unsettling. Through a kind of scientific lens, there is a meticulous attention to detail and long descriptions of the natural setting. The plot is not very important here even though there are some interesting developments near the end. Rather, the author's main focus is to accurately portray the harsh conditions of life in this isolated canyon, where a prospector is searching for gold. This effective literary style and technique reinforces nature as this indomitable force where </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">survival, resilience, and the symbiotic relationship between man and the natural world come in direct conflict.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrm88XRyAsKH9hM5u1WiTxFIucU1RPuNjskmnEzTdIg2gBCypU3HkHUV7JR0XQVtEQHb9ykYKk8Cm8JegfY-Z4808UK-4dpb4uvvkMYx3mcw7_CO1UXS_JJuhvrxCNfVxg0BPNepF_Rrwr7n7eBbaQfNm-eskUlmOejAUUUW2mncXPcEWPAuKuhEjXKBqs/s90/3star.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="37" data-original-width="90" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrm88XRyAsKH9hM5u1WiTxFIucU1RPuNjskmnEzTdIg2gBCypU3HkHUV7JR0XQVtEQHb9ykYKk8Cm8JegfY-Z4808UK-4dpb4uvvkMYx3mcw7_CO1UXS_JJuhvrxCNfVxg0BPNepF_Rrwr7n7eBbaQfNm-eskUlmOejAUUUW2mncXPcEWPAuKuhEjXKBqs/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0