tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53831194669618705372024-03-28T14:57:30.992-04:00Literature Frenzy!There Will Come Soft Rains.Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.comBlogger330125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-21520460928990327592024-03-27T10:54:00.002-04:002024-03-27T11:02:57.376-04:00The Great Silence by Ted Chiang<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/AVvXsEghNnYQHCW3itVZ7tDA-Hy4wNGQBl7BJLope6m1Vr_vgoG-Mcf-b4FLXrN8p1hwl6ckCzpYansrtU3nWV_YsiX5JSOAdDUNJgouv_fRPmIcQSKSgyLAOOQ85t9i9kIAK9NTYWCSvKHQ2fzBhEqSwGt_Jns70rfweSvFagy7BO09L4sWWHUWAa0K18qeE-zx/s640/parrot.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghNnYQHCW3itVZ7tDA-Hy4wNGQBl7BJLope6m1Vr_vgoG-Mcf-b4FLXrN8p1hwl6ckCzpYansrtU3nWV_YsiX5JSOAdDUNJgouv_fRPmIcQSKSgyLAOOQ85t9i9kIAK9NTYWCSvKHQ2fzBhEqSwGt_Jns70rfweSvFagy7BO09L4sWWHUWAa0K18qeE-zx/s320/parrot.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My name isn't Polly and I don't like crackers.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">An exploration of the fermi paradox and a talking parrot as the first-person narrator? Sold!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ted Chiang is one of those special short-story writers that is on another level and rarely ever disappoints. This is a very short-story but still contains tremendous depth and is surprisingly poignant. Humanity has been obsessed with making contact with distant alien lifeforms in space but what if these "aliens" have been on Earth the whole time as certain animals? In this case, parrots. Not an entirely new premise for SF but Chiang re-conceptualizes it by taking a more philosophical, religious and speculative approach. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">These are highly intelligent creatures with the ability to communicate with humans but we only perceive them as birds, not advanced creatures from another planet. From an epistemological perspective, how can we be certain this is true? There are so many mysteries of the universe and the search for alien life might be closer than we think. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">You can read this story <a href="https://electricliterature.com/the-great-silence-by-ted-chiang/">HERE.</a></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSl7kpAVanvNNCNMglU13nlTb2EMvIB6awZ-8E1XS722GnWzeKc0pSCWz5-CG6xMQq8xj0QULi5Fz2SBui1EACT6ZowfYfYcO4ztwjSeMjZSXoWzdV4xk5i_x5EMMZkRngkCpjTvm8vGHkmCR8uYvTlgQqKrJ5RSoOd8GBX0KftUt5w3Pe8slawMiPOQj/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/AVvXsEgRSl7kpAVanvNNCNMglU13nlTb2EMvIB6awZ-8E1XS722GnWzeKc0pSCWz5-CG6xMQq8xj0QULi5Fz2SBui1EACT6ZowfYfYcO4ztwjSeMjZSXoWzdV4xk5i_x5EMMZkRngkCpjTvm8vGHkmCR8uYvTlgQqKrJ5RSoOd8GBX0KftUt5w3Pe8slawMiPOQj/s1600/4star.png" width="120" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-63206603977220606122024-03-24T12:28:00.006-04:002024-03-24T17:08:01.453-04:00The Ones Who Stay and Fight by N.K. Jemisin<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/AVvXsEhIRDPxRDlzvHhcSOjfiyYrk-VkaiGNzkNNrCNWNJMUwl1eUD0B5buJgQ9VCr6vvqKMvtBOAOuR59Qz2pYp-1L_qY_fb3S2dRL886adAllik_ad4MevDJCC7m3B0raSgNe0ND2iwUZcXUrYrbUJ_OwZP0xGNCF5dO3S8o1b78DPKSZLxey_-SgCPwfHcdii/s990/howlongtil.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="660" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRDPxRDlzvHhcSOjfiyYrk-VkaiGNzkNNrCNWNJMUwl1eUD0B5buJgQ9VCr6vvqKMvtBOAOuR59Qz2pYp-1L_qY_fb3S2dRL886adAllik_ad4MevDJCC7m3B0raSgNe0ND2iwUZcXUrYrbUJ_OwZP0xGNCF5dO3S8o1b78DPKSZLxey_-SgCPwfHcdii/s320/howlongtil.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> Afrofuturism.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">N.K. Jemisin, renowned for her groundbreaking 'Broken Earth Trilogy,' continues to make waves in the SF/fantasy realm. While I've only read into the first two books of the series, they revealed an author of tremendous talent and boundless imagination. I found her unique spin on Afro-futurism and the distinct second-person narrative voice to be incredibly refreshing. Moreover, she seems to have picked up the mantle from Octavia Butler, who was instrumental in ushering in a new-wave of Black science-fiction authors. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"></blockquote></blockquote><span style="font-family: georgia;">This short-story collection was one of my most anticipated reads last year. With a respectable author at the helm, a great title, and beautiful cover art, my anticipation soared. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yet, due to procrastination and various other life stuff, I only ended up reading one story from it. While that single narrative was fantastic (review pending), I never returned to discover any other other hidden gems--until now. </span><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"></blockquote><span style="font-family: georgia;">The first story to appear in this magnificent collection, "The Ones Who Stay and Fight", is an obvious nod to Ursula Le Guin's famous SF short story with a similar title: "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas." The intertextual connections might be apparent to anyone who is familiar with Le Guin's story, a haunting dystopian tale that explores themes of free will, equality and justice. I applaud N.K. Jemisin's for her ambitious endeavor to re-envision such an iconic work through a black cultural lens, despite the final outcome not achieving the intended emotional resonance. Personally, the narrative felt gimmicky and more of an homage with an ending that seemed predictably heavy-handed. On a more positive note, the w</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">orld building is impressive and the author showcases her mastery of the second-person narrative voice. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">By directly addressing the reader as "you" t</span><span><span style="font-family: georgia;">his narrative technique not only envelops the reader within the fantastical setting but also serves a rhetorical purpose, compelling you to align with the narrator's distinct sociopolitical viewpoint, which unfortunately, happens to be a little on the nose.</span></span><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB77V5IPKQgW5jx4ALnNg9raUrq-_NqE3sOa8JC6hktXfhXqjinuCW05uSEtdqioaeEexNs_ekYSgnpk1VfzCBt_RlkQZ62CdfRx2ENn5VUWsIeVm0Tyx0RtkgoFMOq-USH58Ra1xDdtIaxeLe56H_zIwdMU_uE1qOP149dSmeR0xe4sIzSD_yUwFzWR5O/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/AVvXsEhB77V5IPKQgW5jx4ALnNg9raUrq-_NqE3sOa8JC6hktXfhXqjinuCW05uSEtdqioaeEexNs_ekYSgnpk1VfzCBt_RlkQZ62CdfRx2ENn5VUWsIeVm0Tyx0RtkgoFMOq-USH58Ra1xDdtIaxeLe56H_zIwdMU_uE1qOP149dSmeR0xe4sIzSD_yUwFzWR5O/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div></span></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-29077935885836098432024-03-24T10:12:00.007-04:002024-03-24T16:26:45.595-04:00The Moral Virologist 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/AVvXsEi4UxeyzbA4kzrQJrVCOCjP8JfPxphEtqqzqrnQr21rUrTLvfp0BTkavl2aSHMT4mu672bCfKQdeqXB_c764VhYPfyLeYkTQK7E_qOGAmeZfqhrB5ExYL2PihPeKjoU9y3qnAEKlmwpgOXWMddIkMmot6Fur8_JZQ4ajEhZKH6SKGQZjzg0zv9904Zqot4L/s1024/biologist.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/AVvXsEi4UxeyzbA4kzrQJrVCOCjP8JfPxphEtqqzqrnQr21rUrTLvfp0BTkavl2aSHMT4mu672bCfKQdeqXB_c764VhYPfyLeYkTQK7E_qOGAmeZfqhrB5ExYL2PihPeKjoU9y3qnAEKlmwpgOXWMddIkMmot6Fur8_JZQ4ajEhZKH6SKGQZjzg0zv9904Zqot4L/s320/biologist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Playing God in a science lab.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The premise of this story is chilling, and given our current post-COVID-19 reality, it only amplifies the sense of dread it evokes. "The Moral Virologist" employs the classic 'mad scientist' trope, presenting a supervillain origin story with a slight twist. Shawcross is an ultraconservative, right-wing individual, deeply entrenched in Christian religious beliefs, and fervently homophobic. He is on a mission to purge the world of all homosexuals and adulterers. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">This god complex will ultimately be his downfall although the author isn't going for originality. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Rather, a substantial portion of the story focuses on the complex science underlying Shawcross's development of the virus, its various mutations, and the alarming pace at which it spreads across the globe. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The author displays a great deal of skill to balance the hard-science fiction elements with philosophical introspection in a captivating way that doesn't just become insufferable gibberish. While the story may taper off slightly towards the end, it remains a commendable contribution from an author of considerable talent.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Y83LxSQY9yhurYhpLMCuO_1xRqh5xbAgrgpwOlo3hiRK774rL2Vz0cNgLbFo4jhz01_SSNVb-IZhzCLyVkU_C4byuFARNUZAfgrSlYHxeP9fFXFT8dC933MLysGaV_KcJ3UzYHua1OvytXo2ZlzJjoT_wERTjwupFECl4SpkM-jEShvngKkzxa1fi3c9/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/AVvXsEi7Y83LxSQY9yhurYhpLMCuO_1xRqh5xbAgrgpwOlo3hiRK774rL2Vz0cNgLbFo4jhz01_SSNVb-IZhzCLyVkU_C4byuFARNUZAfgrSlYHxeP9fFXFT8dC933MLysGaV_KcJ3UzYHua1OvytXo2ZlzJjoT_wERTjwupFECl4SpkM-jEShvngKkzxa1fi3c9/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-2518040472429225482024-03-24T09:41:00.003-04:002024-03-24T09:42:16.595-04:00Giving Blood by John Updike<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/AVvXsEinUGYn7Rcju_Y3ilAGz6jXSnJzdTm6x7up1mPAGP9HNtEvKeyewyGQ6wVRVh66KT2-msFeKMI8yjUVFF8JiEprBEPrMz31s93eXeeVIDHwdEffhqA7bwES7We4chQU_oTHoGSCkBVJOL_gBJN9oUXrdY48uCMM4q1p6xjPnVByO9s63mnP7R3_cbA3xA/s976/givingblood.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="976" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinUGYn7Rcju_Y3ilAGz6jXSnJzdTm6x7up1mPAGP9HNtEvKeyewyGQ6wVRVh66KT2-msFeKMI8yjUVFF8JiEprBEPrMz31s93eXeeVIDHwdEffhqA7bwES7We4chQU_oTHoGSCkBVJOL_gBJN9oUXrdY48uCMM4q1p6xjPnVByO9s63mnP7R3_cbA3xA/s320/givingblood.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Please roll up your sleeves.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">It has been a while since I've read anything by John Updike and "Giving Blood" reminds me why it was necessary to take a hiatus. I can appreciate the author's literary technique but the explicit misogyny and toxic masculinity can be a bit much at times. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Updike's realistic portrayal of marital difficulties is his specialty and it makes sense that many critics have labeled his writing as autobiographical. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The familiar adage that 'a writer writes what they know' resonates strongly with Updike's penchant for capturing life's ordinary moments. It wouldn't be far-fetched to imagine that this story draws inspiration from his own personal life experiences. Updike's seamless ability to elevate the commonplace and turning the mundane into something remarkable is one of the main reasons that I find myself returning to his work.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The tension between Richard and Joan Maple is palpable as they drive to a Boston Hospital to donate blood for some distant relative undergoing a serious operation. T</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">he couple is bickering and during their argument, he accuses her of flirting with another man at a party the previous night. He is also sexually frustrated and blames her for their lack of physical intimacy. Dude, needs to chill. Even though it is a small detail and never mentioned again, Richard casually tries to shift the conversation, inquiring about the well-being of their baby, named Bean (maybe it's a nickname?). We learn that Bean had a fever of 102 degrees and the Maples thought it would a good decision to leave their sick child with a babysitter to attend the party. What kind of irresponsible and neglectful parents are these?! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Updike effectively conveys the emotional and physical disconnection between the couple. However, t</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">hrough their bizarre and shared experience of giving blood, they find a renewed sense of appreciation for each other and a rekindling of the love that had begun to wane, due to work, kids and life getting in the way. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">By sharing a moment of physical closeness and emotional vulnerability in the blood donation room, t</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">hey are able to reconnect on a deeper level. As they are leaving the hospital, they have this sweet and beautiful moment together and I might have been willing to give this story a more favorable review if it ended here. Instead, we follow the couple as they celebrate their rekindled love over pancakes at a diner and Updike casually drops this doozy: </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>"Eve was their sitter, a little bony girl from down the street who would, in exactly a year, Richard calculated, be painfully lovely." </i>It's these kind of misogynistic and disconcerting moments in Updike's writing that tends to be quite off-putting. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">If Updike aimed to depict Richard as a creepy, self-centered, and sex-obsessed middle-aged white man, he certainly achieves his goal.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJy8o_tSLjY6tlicJTvT_2M4rdgiCjbmI-mg6QxCbd4QTFC5mcdVpmAz7FWsmb0zOVUr7NhctofD7d5z4biXjyiPBAGSdV_srzOzlC2oIY3ywlx1rOXriydaud8C8DxPSH3bDeti6vohpkaGoCV2iwQY0Xky1solX1JbU_AFHVXnxAEu1lE1bj-eNtkRcw/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/AVvXsEhJy8o_tSLjY6tlicJTvT_2M4rdgiCjbmI-mg6QxCbd4QTFC5mcdVpmAz7FWsmb0zOVUr7NhctofD7d5z4biXjyiPBAGSdV_srzOzlC2oIY3ywlx1rOXriydaud8C8DxPSH3bDeti6vohpkaGoCV2iwQY0Xky1solX1JbU_AFHVXnxAEu1lE1bj-eNtkRcw/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></span></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-81269426354290936902024-03-23T19:02:00.008-04:002024-03-24T08:30:22.795-04:00The Frolic by Thomas Ligotti<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/AVvXsEjNb6qM-bjQvjlmMWwQRCncq5M2SjkmWat5anYsRz8GMtlGPqZNruKAXHOAiS9mNVieyCn6Fla3on5xZVJ4sX2Jb0HFTjqRn96BK_vPmEjLXbpOzTrI1f9hXFeRtWsKAcb7YTX4Rzl_W-YGjcQy6SXj0BPbqFi1gTvZRJteSB7GGe3VenShDUz9GGVe8_5G/s1000/ligotti.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="653" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNb6qM-bjQvjlmMWwQRCncq5M2SjkmWat5anYsRz8GMtlGPqZNruKAXHOAiS9mNVieyCn6Fla3on5xZVJ4sX2Jb0HFTjqRn96BK_vPmEjLXbpOzTrI1f9hXFeRtWsKAcb7YTX4Rzl_W-YGjcQy6SXj0BPbqFi1gTvZRJteSB7GGe3VenShDUz9GGVe8_5G/s320/ligotti.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Ummmm...yeah.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">This disturbing cover art pretty much sums up what you're getting with a Thomas Ligotti story. He fully embraces the macabre and the grotesque to create a unique blend of supernatural horror. Essentially, it is the stuff of nightmares. The H.P. Lovecraft comparisons are valid but Ligotti's postmodernist 'weird fiction' feels different somehow, as if he is subverting various horror tropes and imbues them with a sense that something else is going on behind these appearances. In "The Frolic", a psychiatrist works at a small-town insane asylum. After returning home from work one evening, he tells his wife about a strange patient of his who is a child predator. That's all you really need to know about the plot if you are brave enough to take the plunge into Thomas Liggoti's twisted mind. The weird horror elements of this story are insidious. It gradually permeates this couple's normal existence where a new <i>unreality</i> takes precedence through the supernatural and these malevolent forces defy rational explanation. While this is not the type of genre that generally appeals to me, I am curious to see what else Ligotti has to offer. However, given the unsettling impact of this story, I might need some time to recover before diving into another one from this collection. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxGjFdjMvWskC90ahBnvHN_XJNWvhEqj2AmOg1a_8fDwKEIiW9GOGwuk2g7kX26x1w4trNa7ks5DfbTRH69TTy427qps6RpJzN-Sg9SiLaW99N6kEJi2C5qyI6KHmftoe2S_9MAWixP9iYU0mAwqNUcMcPB7ZiTt0LIH2HQLLePhb3xW24YkGTmhteDXFv/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/AVvXsEjxGjFdjMvWskC90ahBnvHN_XJNWvhEqj2AmOg1a_8fDwKEIiW9GOGwuk2g7kX26x1w4trNa7ks5DfbTRH69TTy427qps6RpJzN-Sg9SiLaW99N6kEJi2C5qyI6KHmftoe2S_9MAWixP9iYU0mAwqNUcMcPB7ZiTt0LIH2HQLLePhb3xW24YkGTmhteDXFv/s1600/3star.png" width="90" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-20290315927320236742024-03-22T17:46:00.008-04:002024-03-23T09:17:05.563-04:00Pepperoni 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/AVvXsEjqDwjquc0jkwnGUbOjj1VCluClawIKIqgUk492vRaOwH0Ok5E2ZTPi_r4qjOYEMHvxoebi8vXu6bnVRzTt-XDAWV2zE_FXkImaYlBUjZr57fs_gTFiV-aCDUALQqDsExJBkXY0oHx7mKqQVWtknbcs1Alcq-IQL98U3dMLRq7ZfkLgT2_nWX9aw0Ya-bYt/s690/pepperoni-pizza-slice.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="690" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqDwjquc0jkwnGUbOjj1VCluClawIKIqgUk492vRaOwH0Ok5E2ZTPi_r4qjOYEMHvxoebi8vXu6bnVRzTt-XDAWV2zE_FXkImaYlBUjZr57fs_gTFiV-aCDUALQqDsExJBkXY0oHx7mKqQVWtknbcs1Alcq-IQL98U3dMLRq7ZfkLgT2_nWX9aw0Ya-bYt/s320/pepperoni-pizza-slice.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Now I'm getting hungry.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Even when Donald Barthelme misses the mark and presents a less-than-stellar short story, their brevity usually prevents me from feeling completely disappointed. That's the beauty and of the short-story form. You can spend a brief amount of time engaging with the text, anticipating that it will leave some kind of an impression, evoke a certain emotion or enrich your life in some way. If it fails to do so, you simply shrug it off and move on to the next one. If anything, I'm more let down that a story called "Pepperoni" has nothing to do with pizza. It appears once in passing in relation to an article being published by a successful newspaper and media conglomerate. In a snapshot overview, t</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">he author presents</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> random details and silly anecdotes co</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">ncerning the company's management structure. While it's possible he aims to impart a blend of humor and profundity about capitalism or bureaucracy, the attempt feels somewhat superficial. My impression is that</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> this story served as a mere warm-up exercise for the author, akin to cracking one's knuckles, before turning his attention to more substantial literary endeavors.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoVxJajGgPxgIyJo5REOeyY1KJmMLprvloY46tGa0JrgsnV3k5u2yIEvLMoNh-g7OS_7Q_jPVEon6jppQ7QozKtcIzmDfhG2EmAcJoVfyaS6hD1cS94BHe91mj7zDo2pKYJWWbsv42cwZM0fpktCN27_12riTdSK0yZgQDidD_CvFCNmj4sEB7DpJnPHI/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/AVvXsEjAoVxJajGgPxgIyJo5REOeyY1KJmMLprvloY46tGa0JrgsnV3k5u2yIEvLMoNh-g7OS_7Q_jPVEon6jppQ7QozKtcIzmDfhG2EmAcJoVfyaS6hD1cS94BHe91mj7zDo2pKYJWWbsv42cwZM0fpktCN27_12riTdSK0yZgQDidD_CvFCNmj4sEB7DpJnPHI/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></div><p></p>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-73820987561445148182024-03-21T18:44:00.008-04:002024-03-22T13:07:02.439-04:00Angel Levine by Bernard Malamud<div><br /></div><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/AVvXsEhWnRZUPPNdKptJkGBWKXOWqHi9b8jXqixKQNrEeps43lJTTbu9G1duc7CGUssGlIfqjMrXMzcuxfMNOliIpaTAXTB6dTrvp3CcN7liy7elSKE_fee1q5dyvaxc0bqTYEgsEI0aVIqbPP9s44Z9k8N7fMr7IxFD1GmALmmse_lUVHj0qnNuvNFaTPMUOFuz/s626/book-of-job.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="626" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnRZUPPNdKptJkGBWKXOWqHi9b8jXqixKQNrEeps43lJTTbu9G1duc7CGUssGlIfqjMrXMzcuxfMNOliIpaTAXTB6dTrvp3CcN7liy7elSKE_fee1q5dyvaxc0bqTYEgsEI0aVIqbPP9s44Z9k8N7fMr7IxFD1GmALmmse_lUVHj0qnNuvNFaTPMUOFuz/s320/book-of-job.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oh that my grief were throughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the balances together!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm conflicted. "Angel Levine" is a well-crafted 'contemporary' re-telling of the biblical parable of Job within a Jewish context, yet it relies on explicit racism and stereotypes--more specifically, its portrayal of African Americans. Or as the author casually refers to them: <i>Negroes. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Similar to Job, the protagonist Manischevitz also undergoes a crisis of faith. He believes God is unjust and is being wrongfully punished. Granted, life has not always been kind to poor old Manischevitz. His son was killed it the war (presumably WW2), his daughter ran away with some <i>putz</i>, his wife is on her deathbed, his business burned to ground, he has health issues, he lives in a tiny drab apartment and can't seem to find steady employment due to antisemitism. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yikes, that's rough. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Both Manischevitz and Job question their faith in God due to their suffering. They each grapple with the idea of divine justice and are visited by an angel that helps restore their faith. In the case of Manischevitz, he is quite shocked to find a Negro man in his kitchen claiming to be an angel sent by God to help him. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Black Jews do exist, like Sammy Davis Jr. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Turns out that when Levine isn't performing his angel duties, he has a part-time gig as a pimp in Harlem. Just another typical negro vocation. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Malamud sprinkles in some magical realism, employs more anti-black racism, including derogatory jive talk and ends the story </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">with Manischevitz's spiritual awakening just like in the book of Job. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Thus, while this story may have some merit as a literary work, the racial representation is problematic.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMHGmnPpQdRRotweQlSvAiUFARwmUHNCsECo-wg6ym-tl9_7ICOhtI5HTu8M8mzRa1shiSTiUJYqEUH_DakHwMrfbJUZUBHwlxwiae11QMkB-xR2cmH4N3X_VYqLpOgthkUUZlQWWMAWbhnTM4cuQR1VBcHqQ0hfCRI9NV0z2l4y_22u_0sc7hfeiW2owQ/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/AVvXsEgMHGmnPpQdRRotweQlSvAiUFARwmUHNCsECo-wg6ym-tl9_7ICOhtI5HTu8M8mzRa1shiSTiUJYqEUH_DakHwMrfbJUZUBHwlxwiae11QMkB-xR2cmH4N3X_VYqLpOgthkUUZlQWWMAWbhnTM4cuQR1VBcHqQ0hfCRI9NV0z2l4y_22u_0sc7hfeiW2owQ/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5383119466961870537.post-71038787173612418122024-03-20T14:06:00.006-04:002024-03-20T14:59:08.096-04:00Bears Discover Fire by Terry Bisson<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/AVvXsEj8XYZ4PBzruvaZl1KPyr4C_mDXC_8kzz6oNeIz1WrQg9qZUiyjRKIfQiit3zUkemXfyYufuhIEK62LPb3mVMLXFduDrMQnW87p6KAw5IIZ8ZkELK24XnHySANv8jAH_aHaGZ3Jw4XeOvJpeyl7D43m0NYpCVqTpgz9vKZF8g3o1KPlm71ZlKAiXgTx8RxL/s1024/bears%20and%20fire.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/AVvXsEj8XYZ4PBzruvaZl1KPyr4C_mDXC_8kzz6oNeIz1WrQg9qZUiyjRKIfQiit3zUkemXfyYufuhIEK62LPb3mVMLXFduDrMQnW87p6KAw5IIZ8ZkELK24XnHySANv8jAH_aHaGZ3Jw4XeOvJpeyl7D43m0NYpCVqTpgz9vKZF8g3o1KPlm71ZlKAiXgTx8RxL/s320/bears%20and%20fire.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The ring of fire, the ring of fire.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">My first introduction to Terry Bisson was his excellent SF short-story entitled "They're Made Out of Meat", a hilarious alien encounter story comprising entirely of dialogue </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">(I really do need to write a review at some point)</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">. It was very short, clever and witty. This one feels completely different in terms of style and tone, perhaps indicative of Bisson's versality as a writer. Here, the tone is much more more serious and subdued. Most strikingly, it is devoid of any humor. The mundane is juxtaposed with elements of the fantastic as indicated by the title</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> and</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> while this premise may pique curiosity, it takes a backseat to the true essence of Bisson's narrative. The author is far more interested in exploring family dynamics, delving into themes of forgiveness, acceptance, and processing grief. The protagonist's relationship with his nephew and dying mother form the emotional centerpiece of the story. Unfortunately, while t</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">he climax aims for profound significance, it falls slightly short due to some sluggish pacing issues. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">One could certainly argue that this story doesn't neatly fit within the confines of traditional science fiction, given the absence of any attempt to rationalize the phenomenon. These unique bears simply exist within the natural world, devoid of scientific explanation. It is a bold and unconventional creative choice. Nevertheless, the story can be quite dull at times and probably could have used more bears doing cool stuff with fire. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In keeping with the spirited essence of this blog's namesake, I find myself in the midst of a delightful 'literary frenzy,' voraciously devouring short stories at a rapid pace with the intention of reaching certain ambitious reading goals.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Unfortunately, I suspect that "Bears Discover Fire" is bound to be forgotten in the shuffle. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDIuSAfd9pGMOhDn2v4dNeXckFxjrnXx-J3ZQRxjpeLjCDrVSzwND8aedrMiyPIPHFRC2nPXG2j40KkdjwQbjJT1qIRyoP2Bq429SIiDuc47JQF5CLgWPaLGAKp-r7ciHRge0Pr49RowZf0BQII-VB7BIIp2ekb-d1sXt899W6EcJK2hQogL9ZkOb9aRi/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/AVvXsEhqDIuSAfd9pGMOhDn2v4dNeXckFxjrnXx-J3ZQRxjpeLjCDrVSzwND8aedrMiyPIPHFRC2nPXG2j40KkdjwQbjJT1qIRyoP2Bq429SIiDuc47JQF5CLgWPaLGAKp-r7ciHRge0Pr49RowZf0BQII-VB7BIIp2ekb-d1sXt899W6EcJK2hQogL9ZkOb9aRi/s1600/2star.png" width="60" /></a></div>Jason Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08334917645691982404noreply@blogger.com0tag: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.com0