steveatwaywords's reviews
1075 reviews
The Fatal Eggs by Mikhail Bulgakov
adventurous
dark
funny
lighthearted
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
More satirical attack on early Soviet bureaucracy than science fiction, Bulgakov--apparently enjoying himself a great deal--spins a H G Wells-ian tale about a science experiment gone very wrong.
It's a short read, offering just the tightly-narrated essentials: one myopically stubborn and ethical biologist, his faithful but overwrought assistant, his also faithful but too accepting wife, and a bevy of corrupt journalists, corrupt and supercilious bureaucrats, antiquated and often negligent military, and superstitious and impulsive citizenry. What could possibly save them?
The absurd alone triumphs here, and this Kafka-like setting offers laughter and nods of understanding. The early Soviet machine may have been absurdly opaque and nonsensical, but Bulgakov's criticisms ring too accurate to our contemporary lives.
It's a short read, offering just the tightly-narrated essentials: one myopically stubborn and ethical biologist, his faithful but overwrought assistant, his also faithful but too accepting wife, and a bevy of corrupt journalists, corrupt and supercilious bureaucrats, antiquated and often negligent military, and superstitious and impulsive citizenry. What could possibly save them?
The absurd alone triumphs here, and this Kafka-like setting offers laughter and nods of understanding. The early Soviet machine may have been absurdly opaque and nonsensical, but Bulgakov's criticisms ring too accurate to our contemporary lives.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Violence and Injury/Injury detail
The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
mysterious
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
This is a heavy novel: it's physically heavy, textually dense, and philosophically massive. Make room for it. Make time. And then, as Mann himself recommends, read it twice.
We know from the first chapter that we are in the hands of a master storyteller. The control of the action, of character, of selected dialogue moments, lets us know that the telling will be intimate and that--after our lengthy stay--we will be satisfied. As our protagonist Hans visits a sanatorium in Switzerland and slows down to meet it, so must we.
Inside this isolated mountain retreat is a microcosm of pre-WWI Europe, but also a place of wonder, leisure, comforts, salaciousness, and philosophical debate. I found myself wanting to settle in and examine or research the myriad references and cultural-historical moments which Mann's characters summon, to slow down to better understand if the details of a gramophone or example of table manners resonated with a nuanced larger meaning. (Undoubtably, the answer is yes.)
I found myself arguing with the characters, with Hans for his naivete, with Settembrini for his sweeping and sometimes hypocritical generalizations, with Hofrat for his rhetorical smokescreens. No character exists as a symbol, exactly. Each is a fully-rendered and nuanced human, noble and broken, public and private, varied and changing. The space they inhabit is often absurd, false, even dangerous. But the people themselves are real and their experiences significant.
It is easy today to draw parallels between these people of more than a century ago; we can build our own isolated communities easily enough, talk amongst ourselves to self-aggrandize without impact on the broader world, betray our better selves in acts of adolescent infatuations and pettiness. And we can even, when we fail to meet the questions of life or death honestly, make open war.
This is a too-seldom read novel of too-significant consequence to how our lives might be spent; or rather, how their might be lived.
We know from the first chapter that we are in the hands of a master storyteller. The control of the action, of character, of selected dialogue moments, lets us know that the telling will be intimate and that--after our lengthy stay--we will be satisfied. As our protagonist Hans visits a sanatorium in Switzerland and slows down to meet it, so must we.
Inside this isolated mountain retreat is a microcosm of pre-WWI Europe, but also a place of wonder, leisure, comforts, salaciousness, and philosophical debate. I found myself wanting to settle in and examine or research the myriad references and cultural-historical moments which Mann's characters summon, to slow down to better understand if the details of a gramophone or example of table manners resonated with a nuanced larger meaning. (Undoubtably, the answer is yes.)
I found myself arguing with the characters, with Hans for his naivete, with Settembrini for his sweeping and sometimes hypocritical generalizations, with Hofrat for his rhetorical smokescreens. No character exists as a symbol, exactly. Each is a fully-rendered and nuanced human, noble and broken, public and private, varied and changing. The space they inhabit is often absurd, false, even dangerous. But the people themselves are real and their experiences significant.
It is easy today to draw parallels between these people of more than a century ago; we can build our own isolated communities easily enough, talk amongst ourselves to self-aggrandize without impact on the broader world, betray our better selves in acts of adolescent infatuations and pettiness. And we can even, when we fail to meet the questions of life or death honestly, make open war.
This is a too-seldom read novel of too-significant consequence to how our lives might be spent; or rather, how their might be lived.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Death, Death of parent, Medical content, and Antisemitism
Minor: Sexual content
Confessions by Saint Augustine
challenging
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
4.25
Far be it for me to engage Saint Augustine on his writing prowess. Instead, I can discuss a bit about the reader experience of encountering this text, one that I have spent much of my life maneuvering about via summaries and commentary; it was great to finally meet the text itself.
First, I recommend reading this work with a guide or contextual assistance. While it is tough going without time and concentration, the reading itself (at least in my Chadwick translation) was not overly difficult. What made the work richer for me was understanding Christian thought at the time, what Augustine's circumstances were (both personally and globally), and to what debates might he be responding to. This helped me better understand why he focused on the details he did and why he argued in ways that (to today's readers) seem sometimes illogical or obtuse. I listened to Doug Metzger's two lengthy episodes on the work on his Literature and History podcast, which I recommend. (literatureandhistory.com)
The reading itself was what many write of: the first portion of memoir where he writes of his teachers, teen exploits, and family. This was very approachable and interesting--Augustine shows a vulnerability and candor which might surprise. The second portion, however, is more a philosophical reverie on time, creation, memory, and the role of the church. He points out that the entirety of the first section (his life) is meant as an example for readers to consider in order to better appreciate this more important philosophizing. True, he makes interesting arguments against Manicheanism and NeoPlatonism, but once again, I would never have appreciated these points without some guidance on their roles in the 4th century.
In the end, Augustine produces some of the most influential arguments and theological thinking of all Christian history. While the Confessions is lengthy for what it does (part of his style of frequent praise and repetition), it is more than worthy of our time as we attempt to answer questions of faith and religious history.
First, I recommend reading this work with a guide or contextual assistance. While it is tough going without time and concentration, the reading itself (at least in my Chadwick translation) was not overly difficult. What made the work richer for me was understanding Christian thought at the time, what Augustine's circumstances were (both personally and globally), and to what debates might he be responding to. This helped me better understand why he focused on the details he did and why he argued in ways that (to today's readers) seem sometimes illogical or obtuse. I listened to Doug Metzger's two lengthy episodes on the work on his Literature and History podcast, which I recommend. (literatureandhistory.com)
The reading itself was what many write of: the first portion of memoir where he writes of his teachers, teen exploits, and family. This was very approachable and interesting--Augustine shows a vulnerability and candor which might surprise. The second portion, however, is more a philosophical reverie on time, creation, memory, and the role of the church. He points out that the entirety of the first section (his life) is meant as an example for readers to consider in order to better appreciate this more important philosophizing. True, he makes interesting arguments against Manicheanism and NeoPlatonism, but once again, I would never have appreciated these points without some guidance on their roles in the 4th century.
In the end, Augustine produces some of the most influential arguments and theological thinking of all Christian history. While the Confessions is lengthy for what it does (part of his style of frequent praise and repetition), it is more than worthy of our time as we attempt to answer questions of faith and religious history.
Something Is Killing the Children, Vol. 3 by James Tynion IV
adventurous
dark
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.25
This 3rd volume completes the first main story arc for the series, resolving the cliffhanging end of Vol 2 (Issues #10).
Much of this resolution, somewhat predictable, was unnecessary conflict to begin with. In other words, the sheer irrationality of the human antagonists made them an implausible and unsatisfying adversary for Erica's story; this is especially true when the story was escalating on its own with the monsters themselves. There was plenty of weighty story for Erica and allies to deal with in that small town. In the end, the resolution for the monster-side was a quick one, and the one with her human antagonists was resolved outside of the main action.
That said, the human story resolution of this series of issues was original and provocative, making it the highlight of the 3 volumes so far. I totally bought it, as desperate and classically 'awe-full' as it was.
This is a potentially powerful series--as I would expect from Tynion--but as it continues, I am hoping for more of this kind of imaginative storytelling than trope-heavy retreads.
Much of this resolution, somewhat predictable, was unnecessary conflict to begin with. In other words, the sheer irrationality of the human antagonists made them an implausible and unsatisfying adversary for Erica's story; this is especially true when the story was escalating on its own with the monsters themselves. There was plenty of weighty story for Erica and allies to deal with in that small town. In the end, the resolution for the monster-side was a quick one, and the one with her human antagonists was resolved outside of the main action.
That said, the human story resolution of this series of issues was original and provocative, making it the highlight of the 3 volumes so far. I totally bought it, as desperate and classically 'awe-full' as it was.
This is a potentially powerful series--as I would expect from Tynion--but as it continues, I am hoping for more of this kind of imaginative storytelling than trope-heavy retreads.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child death, Violence, and Gore
The Shadow Land by Elizabeth Kostova
adventurous
emotional
informative
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.5
This is my first Kostova book, read as part of my trip to and reading around Bulgarian history. As such, I really appreciated the dedication and care Kostova takes in representing the country honestly and sympathetically. She sought to offer a novel dedicated to the country she herself fell in love with; she enlisted worthy partners (Georgi Gospodinov amongst them) to review and advise on her work; and for anyone who has not traveled there, this is a fine entry door into Bulgaria's troublesome 20th-century history (and into the 21st).
But this goal, perhaps, is exactly where the novel becomes a bit of a disappointment. At times, it reads as much like a tour intro of Bulgaria rather than a tightly-written and considered story. As others have written, the plot premise stretches credulity, so--so long as a reader is prepared to enjoy the adventure and ignore its likelihood--its merely a fair enough story. For me, that premise (a modern American dives into a mystery of the difficult politics and history of Bulgaria) itself created much of the trouble: in her need to offer native English-speaking readers a character we can relate to (and who would ask our questions), the story became unbelievable. Add to this a too-quickly-sketched and too-convenient climactic scene to resolve it all and I sighed in despair.
The real strength of the novel comes, of course, in the historical story her protagonist uncovers, that of the characters and circumstances of the Soviet-era labor camps where thousands vanished (and which is still problematic for many Bulgarians to discuss). That story, told in the novel through testimony and journals, is compelling and at times beautifully written. It reveals facets of interrogation and prisoner survival that are missed in many similar books. How it colors the lives and behaviors of contemporary politics and families is compelling. And this alone makes this longish novel worth the read.
I wish Kostova trusted her readers enough to write that historical tale and let us live in it. I wish she had trusted herself enough to avoid the few writerly strategies which awkwardly pepper the book for "creative" interest: some awkward point of view shifts, some too-coincidental connections, a kind of uber-capable partner, a remote and implausible love interest, a moment of surreal or magical karma which is left to tantalize only.
The Shadow Land is a worthy and important story nearly betrayed by writerly gimmicks and strategies.
But this goal, perhaps, is exactly where the novel becomes a bit of a disappointment. At times, it reads as much like a tour intro of Bulgaria rather than a tightly-written and considered story. As others have written, the plot premise stretches credulity, so--so long as a reader is prepared to enjoy the adventure and ignore its likelihood--its merely a fair enough story. For me, that premise (a modern American dives into a mystery of the difficult politics and history of Bulgaria) itself created much of the trouble: in her need to offer native English-speaking readers a character we can relate to (and who would ask our questions), the story became unbelievable. Add to this a too-quickly-sketched and too-convenient climactic scene to resolve it all and I sighed in despair.
The real strength of the novel comes, of course, in the historical story her protagonist uncovers, that of the characters and circumstances of the Soviet-era labor camps where thousands vanished (and which is still problematic for many Bulgarians to discuss). That story, told in the novel through testimony and journals, is compelling and at times beautifully written. It reveals facets of interrogation and prisoner survival that are missed in many similar books. How it colors the lives and behaviors of contemporary politics and families is compelling. And this alone makes this longish novel worth the read.
I wish Kostova trusted her readers enough to write that historical tale and let us live in it. I wish she had trusted herself enough to avoid the few writerly strategies which awkwardly pepper the book for "creative" interest: some awkward point of view shifts, some too-coincidental connections, a kind of uber-capable partner, a remote and implausible love interest, a moment of surreal or magical karma which is left to tantalize only.
The Shadow Land is a worthy and important story nearly betrayed by writerly gimmicks and strategies.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Torture, Physical abuse, Suicide, Murder, Injury/Injury detail, Confinement, Violence, Grief, Death of parent, Police brutality, Homophobia, and Gun violence
Something Is Killing the Children Vol. 2 by James Tynion IV
adventurous
dark
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.0
I'm settling in to this series (as yet not completed, apparently!) and I will finish the story arc before doing a full review, but here is what I thought of Volume 2:
Much like Vol. 1, this is a dark gorefest with an insidious cabal of PR-masters behind it. We learn more about each, the tension and action (if not the terror) is ramped up, but nothing is really resolved. Tynion is not afraid to shock us by losing important (or seemingly innocent) characters, but again this feels more like a need to shock than an essential plot point. The brief appearance of a character with seemingly conflicting motivations (somewhat promising) is too-quickly dispatched.
We do get some more hints at the Erica backstory, but this too is not unusual or especially insightful. In the end, this story currently appears to be an action romp with lots of night scenes and blood: there is little wrong with this (I'm still reading, after all), but I have seen so many graphic novels or series (including Tynion's) pull off more.
Much like Vol. 1, this is a dark gorefest with an insidious cabal of PR-masters behind it. We learn more about each, the tension and action (if not the terror) is ramped up, but nothing is really resolved. Tynion is not afraid to shock us by losing important (or seemingly innocent) characters, but again this feels more like a need to shock than an essential plot point. The brief appearance of a character with seemingly conflicting motivations (somewhat promising) is too-quickly dispatched.
We do get some more hints at the Erica backstory, but this too is not unusual or especially insightful. In the end, this story currently appears to be an action romp with lots of night scenes and blood: there is little wrong with this (I'm still reading, after all), but I have seen so many graphic novels or series (including Tynion's) pull off more.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Child death, Blood, Violence, and Gore
The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson
challenging
emotional
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
Nelson's "autotheory" memoir has already been praised by many, so I will echo the analysis: this is a remarkably intimate and scholarly work, synthesizing subjects often avoided and even cautioned against. Progressive and stark, Nelson takes on a tour of her dynamic and at times uncertain domestic life--her partner's transition, her own sexuality, the death of a parent, the murder of a sister, the entangling estrangement of pregnancy and child-rearing--and twines it with the threads of literary and gender theory: Sedgwick, Butler, Lacan, Foucault, Lambert, Wittig, Carson, Winnicott, and a host of others. The result is evocative, explicit, inspiring, reverential, and sobering.
This book is not easily navigable. While written in fragmentary pieces, the narrative is delivered in its entirety, a submersion of its whole, and one wonders at its turnings. Nelson writes while on a subway, at a cafe, surrounded by tumult, but what she offers is insular and contained, a cerebral dissection of her own life and how words, language, people shift. Derrida remarked that he wondered most about the sex lives of philosophers. Nelson has here made a powerful bridge (more a marriage) between the abstraction of teleology and the workings of body.
This book is not easily navigable. While written in fragmentary pieces, the narrative is delivered in its entirety, a submersion of its whole, and one wonders at its turnings. Nelson writes while on a subway, at a cafe, surrounded by tumult, but what she offers is insular and contained, a cerebral dissection of her own life and how words, language, people shift. Derrida remarked that he wondered most about the sex lives of philosophers. Nelson has here made a powerful bridge (more a marriage) between the abstraction of teleology and the workings of body.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual content and Death of parent
Moderate: Stalking, Grief, Medical content, and Cancer
Minor: Biphobia, Transphobia, and Murder
The Nice House on the Lake, Vol. 2 by James Tynion IV
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
Tynion's series continues (the 3rd--and final?--volume has not been released, yet) and this second volume is as compelling as the first, no small feat considering the "cliffhanger" resolution of the previous one. What threatened to be some kind of <i>Groundhog's Day</i> plot as quickly evolved instead to something more complicated, something more calculated. And while Tynion has in some ways already offered us the end-game for all of his stranded characters, how they arrive their and what it means are far from predictable.
Once again, excellent (and often ambiguously suggestive) artwork by Bueno and Bellaire support the nature of the storytelling. What I most appreciate from this (at least so far) is the grand scale of the story implications while tightly wrapping the action in a very localized setting. The characters are thoughtful and real, smart and emotive.
For the first time in discovering a graphic novel series, I honestly look forward to the next issue!
Once again, excellent (and often ambiguously suggestive) artwork by Bueno and Bellaire support the nature of the storytelling. What I most appreciate from this (at least so far) is the grand scale of the story implications while tightly wrapping the action in a very localized setting. The characters are thoughtful and real, smart and emotive.
For the first time in discovering a graphic novel series, I honestly look forward to the next issue!
Content Warnings
Moderate: Gore, Cursing, and Death
Hiroshima No Pika by Toshi Maruki
challenging
emotional
informative
sad
fast-paced
4.25
Toshi Maruki's challenge to deliver the horror of the atomic bomb to young readers largely succeeds. Certainly this is not a book which all parents will approve: the illustrations, while artfully rendered and not explicitly grisly, are nonetheless indelible settings of terror and death. Maruki could do no less, of course, but younger readers might best have sensitive adults ready for their questions and emotional responses.
The accompanying prose is similarly distanced from the exploitative detail, but also speaks openly about injury, death, terror, and grief. The description of the child's skull slowly rejecting shards of glass over the many years which follow will stay with me.
In terms of imagery and detail of this historical tragedy, it is more explicit than a popular book like Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, but much less so that the Barefoot Gen graphic novels, and many degrees gentler than John Hersey's classic historical documenting, Hiroshima. I recommend all of these for school-age readers.
What we have, then, is an extraordinarily artful and vibrant work of one of the most horrifying experiences of the 20th century. Maruki's hope was to see nuclear weapons eliminated; one may hope that images from works like this may inspire the next generation to do just that.
The accompanying prose is similarly distanced from the exploitative detail, but also speaks openly about injury, death, terror, and grief. The description of the child's skull slowly rejecting shards of glass over the many years which follow will stay with me.
In terms of imagery and detail of this historical tragedy, it is more explicit than a popular book like Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, but much less so that the Barefoot Gen graphic novels, and many degrees gentler than John Hersey's classic historical documenting, Hiroshima. I recommend all of these for school-age readers.
What we have, then, is an extraordinarily artful and vibrant work of one of the most horrifying experiences of the 20th century. Maruki's hope was to see nuclear weapons eliminated; one may hope that images from works like this may inspire the next generation to do just that.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Death of parent, and War
Moderate: Injury/Injury detail and Fire/Fire injury
See my review for explanations of the content warnings.
Buja's Diary by Se-Yong O
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.25
This is an unusual work and all the better and more interesting for that. O is best known as a poet of Korea, and it may be better to approach this collection of scenes and situations in this light. Most are set in the early/mid-twentieth century, around the years of the Japanese occupation. Plainly written language, subtly rendered black and white graphics, unexpected endings (not always conclusions or resolutions), nuanced questions of justice for vice, suffering, ignorance . . . I paused after each to challenge myself about what I had experienced. Is it what I expected it to be?
And that is partly the experience, I think. My expectations (partly as a Western reader, partly as one familiar with more traditional east Asian texts) were seldom met. Instead, I met people ugly and grating, quiet and enduring, and wondered at their "fortunes." Wherever we meet them, however, three absences struck me as constants: there seems little/no power beyond the local, there seems little in terms of an economic future, and there is little still in any power beyond the impotent human.
All this makes for some bleak reading (at times with uncomfortable laughter), but together O offers a fascinating moral telling of the human condition, nonetheless.
And that is partly the experience, I think. My expectations (partly as a Western reader, partly as one familiar with more traditional east Asian texts) were seldom met. Instead, I met people ugly and grating, quiet and enduring, and wondered at their "fortunes." Wherever we meet them, however, three absences struck me as constants: there seems little/no power beyond the local, there seems little in terms of an economic future, and there is little still in any power beyond the impotent human.
All this makes for some bleak reading (at times with uncomfortable laughter), but together O offers a fascinating moral telling of the human condition, nonetheless.