Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

I find it unlikely that I'll ever meet Margaret Atwood or that she'll read this review of one of her older books, but if so, I apologize that I cannot go along with her desire not to call this a work of science fiction, because it is clearly dealing with a dystopian future that contains plenty of "things that aren't invented yet," Ms. Atwood's own definition.

I admit that I bristle a bit at the idea of an author denying a perfectly fine genre label, but since Atwood (and this book) are both so good, I'll give it a pass.

Oryx and Crake is the story of what happens when one man has the vision to remake the earth in his own twisted ideas and uses a society that's too obsessed with techo-corporate progress to notice that something might be going horribly wrong. Humanity, which was set on surviving no matter who or what got hurt in the process, suddenly finds itself cut off at the knees.

The human race's only hope? A deranged, defeated semi-alcoholic that calls himself Snowman. He wanders what's left of the "paradise" created by tramping over human rights and scientific ethics and, as the book progresses, reflects on what went wrong. He is left with the ruins of society, dangerous hybrid creatures (perhaps most horrifying being the one that combined snakes with rats), a race of creatures that are almost human--and plenty of time to think.

They look to him for their philosophy and theology, and Snowman obliges, knowing that everything he does will impact on their future. Not wanting to die but perhaps never really wanting to live, Snowman does what comes naturally to him: He continues to live.

As we progress through the book in a series of splits between the present day and prior events, it's clear that Snowman (formerly Jimmy) never had a handle on his life. He was content, like most people, to just inhabit the world around him. Sure, he had questions, but those questions were better left unanswered. If he saw signs, he ignored them, preferring to do what was easiest, from letting Crake run his life to having a series of unsuccessful romantic relationships, often with married or spoken for women. It's obvious that Jimmy's world is a mess--his mom even leaves because of it--but Jimmy/Snowman fears the truth more than anything, and his ability to question nothing overwhelms his occasional exposure to the bare facts.

This approach is perfect for giving us a character who can see his world without judging it, allowing the reader to form their own thoughts. The problem is that for most sections of the book, even when Snowman is all alone, he is reacting rather than acting. There's only a few precious moments where Snowman must show some backbone, and they mostly end up in the back of the book, by which point we've already passed judgment on this man whose penalty for ignoring life is to spend the rest of it mentally chronicling the end of the human race.

Normally, having such a cipher as a main character would bother me, but Atwood's work of world-building is so strong that I'm willing to overlook it. She's really outdone herself here, coming up with a future where technology does anything it wants, aided any abetted by a security force working only to protect the haves against the masses of have-nots (and those amongst the haves who get doubts about this reality). We see all sorts of twisted versions of familiar themes, from the internet to pharmaceutical companies, all taken to the extreme. Scientists work feverishly to "improve" the work of nature, binding raccoons and skunks or creating pigs that provide more food. There's even a twisted thing that provides nothing but chicken legs. They're the horror stories we only dream of right now, but Atwood makes them only real but plausible.

Because of this, Oryx and Crake's world is more of a character than Snowman. We want to know what makes this world tick, where the arts are shoved away from higher learning in a nod to the Cartesian philosophies at work today. There may be a few variations along the way, but the world Atwood creates is more compelling that most dystopias because let's face it--this is world that could easily happen, and might even be happening now.

I think that's the thing that makes me enjoy Oryx and Crake, despite my usual dislike of dystopias as a plot device. We did not arrive here by some dramatic act that's implausible. We got here because man's arrogance kept taking the next logical leaps, and the fall was one just as great as that given in the Book of Genesis. It's even for the same reason--a quest for knowledge without any checks and balances. As we watch technology go further and further, there seems to be no stopping to see not only if we can do something, but if we should. Atwood clearly sees this future and is scared by it. I'm a bit scared, too.

There are a few things that readers should be aware of before diving in. First of all is Atwood's leisurely pacing style, common to her writing. Fans of her work know that sharp, fast-moving stories are not her forte, and this book, despite its dramatic theme, is no exception. I like Atwood a lot, but sometimes I do wish she'd cut a bit here and there and move the story along faster. Snowman's life as a young adult particularly drags, in my opinion,but not enough to kill my enjoyment of the book. If you've never read Atwood before, just be ready to take awhile to get to the punchline.

The second problem is related to the first. I copped pretty quickly to what was going to happen, and I think overall the foreshadowing is just a bit too heavy. The extra pages mean it takes awhile to find out if you're right. I was, and I have a feeling you will be, too.

The third problem is a bit odd in an Atwood book. I felt like she was very neglectful to her female characters. Oryx is literally objectified, and Jimmy/Snowman's mother is the only other strong female in the book. It seems odd that she'd write a book that wouldn't pass the Bechdel test, and it just felt like women got short shrift in this one.

Overall, however, I really enjoyed the book, even if it ends on one heck of a cliffhanger. Atwood's prose is as sharp-witted as ever, from the names she gives futuristic creatures and technology to the acid sarcasm of her characters. There are plenty of secrets left unrevealed, giving the reader plenty of room to explore this world in his/her own mind. Atwood knows that any good writer shows as much as possible, while also giving the reader room to expand on what they've been given. The biggest question--how did the disaster happen--is revealed, but so much more is waiting, either for future books or as fodder for book clubs.

I always enjoy Atwood books, and this one was no exception. Fans of her other fiction books will find lots to like and should not be turned off by the science fiction within the pages. At the same time, those who like near science fiction definitely need to check this one out. Just don't tell Ms. Atwood that I sent you.

In Defense of Stephen King

When I did my review of Thinner, I had a few more things I wanted to say about King the writer, but did not feel like they fit in with the theme of the review. I still wanted to share them, however. Here they are, expanded a bit.

The idea that I've read nearly a dozen Stephen King books and that doesn't even cover a third of his total output is pretty amazing to me. Not so much the number of books--think of how many Danielle Steel has written--but the variety of those books is what impresses me. We have short story collections, non-fiction, how-to, horror, mystery, collaborations, series, exclusive e-books (anyone else remember The Plant?), and even books released a chapter or two at a time.

King is not afraid to experiment with his writing. Sometimes it works extremely well and other times it falls flat on its face. But instead of simply writing the same book over and over again, King uses different formats, points of view, and other ways to keep his stories varied.

Are there some similarities? Certainly. I was a bit unsure about Cell, because it reminded me a lot of the Stand in some ways (one of those King productions I've only seen in movie form, to be honest). Most of King's books are set in New England, so the supporting characters and settings are often familiar. He's also the King of product placement, for which many often criticize him. (King's argument, if I remember correctly, is that people are less likely to be thrown out of a narrative if you use the real thing. I think that's sound logic.)

However, I don't think any writer is immune to repeating themselves here and there if they have a long literary career. I'm not even talking about people who write formula books, where the audience wants the repetition. (I like Tony Hillerman a lot, and part of that is when Chee and Leaphorn are in character, not out of it.) I'm looking more here at those that are considered literary writers, such as Margaret Atwood or Joyce Carol Oates, because that's where I think King belongs.

It's my contention that King's writing, while pulpy, often crude, and filled with vile people doing vile things, also has a depth that stays with you after you finish the book. Look at the concept of justice explored in Thinner. Yes, there are supernatural elements but scratch beneath the surface and you have questions that don't get an easy answer. Or take a look at Different Seasons, which features a man determined not to let his situation kill his spirit, the wonders of discovery in childhood, the nature of absolute evil, and, okay, that last story isn't as good as the other three but you get the idea.

We also see the nature of good and evil as a recurring theme, and how situations can corrupt even the best of us. If you stripped out the demons and resurrections and things from several of King's books, I have a feeling the literary critics would praise him to the heights of the canon. To me, the fact that King can make me think as a reader while terrifying/entertaining me at the same time makes his work even better than one that only contains the moral quandaries. Why is it such a crime that King gives us characters that talk and feel like real people who swear and fight and drink Coke? Is it just because they also have to deal with evils that have their roots in classical mythology of all cultures? We don't think less of "Homer" for adding in Greek Gods to his tale of humanity's foibles, so why do that to King?

I call this a defense of Stephen King, as though he needs it. The man is obviously extremely popular, has quite a few books left in his brain, will almost certainly get more movie deals, and is not exactly hurting for money. Whether or not he's appreciated by the New York Times Book Review set is secondary to the fact that he has millions of fans, including my wife and me. Yet I admit it bothers me that more people dismiss King as being "a hack" or a "writer for the masses" (as though that last one is a bad thing) while praising Charles "I got paid by the word and it shows" Dickens as being a pillar of quality writing.

Take a look at the Pickwick Papers sometime and try that one again, huh?

That's why I feel like I need to defend Stephen King and through him, the idea of popular literature in general. King is popular, true, but he's also a great writer. As his work ages, I think people are coming around to this idea. I often say that in 100 years, we'll be teaching King in schools, and they'll look back on all those articles and laugh as they describe him as a classic writer of the late 20th Century.

Some of us knew that all along.

Book Blogger Hop

I'd heard about the Book Blogger Hop before, but I don't always have a lot of time. I decided to make some time for it this weekend. For those visiting The Book Stew for the first time, welcome!!

The hop is a way for folks to go around and randomly hit up other book bloggers and see what they're writing about. As I'm in a transitional reading state--and also a bit of a transition in terms of how I want to use The Book Stew--I figured this might be a good thing for me to participate in this weekend.

The question for this weekend is a pretty good one: How do you promote your book blog?

Honestly, I don't really do a lot. I will tweet when I get a new review up, the same as what I do for Panel Patter, where I post reviews and things on comics. I keep the two separate because I feel like there's a different audience for comics and "book book" (as I like to call them), though perhaps that's not as true as it used to be.

There are so many good book blogs out there (and I hope to add a few to my RSS after this weekend!) I just don't know where Book Stew fits in. I tend to read older books as a rule, and I don't read primarily from a certain genre. I think that hurts me when I'm trying to find a place in the larger book-blogging world.

But hey, part of the advantage to having your own blog is that you can do whatever you'd like! :)

So anyway, welcome again to those stopping by from the Hop, and I hope you find a review or two that interest you. Please come by again, we're always open and always serving!

Thinner by Stephen King

[I read this an audio book, in case that makes a difference to you.]

For a few minutes, I thought about marking this as being by Richard Bachman, but it's not like anyone is fooled these days by Stephen King's pseudonym and it makes it easier to find for those who might want to see my thoughts on books I've read by one of the masters of horror.

All told, this is my 11th Stephen King book, and that's not even a third of his total output. It is, however, one of the best I've read, and I think it might just be my favorite now. (Previously, that was held by Different Seasons, closely followed by Cujo. Clearly, I like early 80s King.)

Thinner is the story of attorney Billy Halleck, a man living the American Dream. He's got an amazing job, a sexy wife, and a darling daughter, all while living in one of the most prestigious areas in New England. Not even making an arrogant mistake while behind the wheel can stop him. After all, powerful white men like Halleck have powerful friends, who can help him out when he's in legal difficulty.

You see, Billy Halleck has killed someone, and gotten off scott free because it's only a Gypsy. Who cares, right? They're drifters, nobodies--people who are so far below Halleck and his ilk, they might as well be ants.

Maybe, maybe not. An old Gypsy man cares, and when he takes the law into his own hands, Halleck and his friends find themselves dying in various, hideous ways. Only Halleck, the man with the biggest guilt complex, can figure out why. The trouble is, what can he do about it? Can he convince the old Gypsy to take off the curse, even as he takes off pounds faster than a Photoshopped picture? His time, like his very self, is getting...Thinner.

The book begins in media res, which is a bit different for a horror story but works quite well. As we see Halleck's situation slowly growing worse, we also see inside his mind, as he links his problems to the events of a night in which neither he nor his wife used good judgment. Halleck's mental guilt drives a lot of the horror early on, which might disappoint those looking for a more splatter-filled book. There's quite a bit of build-up going on, even if King splashes a bit of horror here and there. If you want immediate gratification, you're likely going to be disappointed.

Since I am a fan of the horrors of the mind, I found this part of the book to be quite a bit of fun, especially since it stays with us, even as Halleck's desperation leads him to allow very uncomfortable--and bloody--choices to be made on his behalf. Even if they work, Halleck will have a lot to live with for a very long time. The old Gypsy's death won't be the only thing on his conscience, and that fact is allowed to sink in nice and slowly, fitting again with the psychological horror theme.

And oh boy, does this book get some bloody imagery by the end. There are dead bodies, severed limbs, and dripping blood--and that doesn't count the stuff going on inside Halleck's head. Yet none of it feels added on to please those who want blood. Every action in this book, no matter how horrible, relates back to the story in a natural way. Halleck is in the middle of a blood feud, and the results happen accordingly.

One of the things I found most interesting about the book is that the reader should never want Halleck to win--after all, he's guilty as sin--yet they must follow his quest and listen to his perspective. The Gypsies are the wronged party, and King makes that abundantly clear. All through the book, you can see King's social commentary about how rich white people treat those they consider beneath them, especially the Gypsies. Even Halleck comes around to this idea, although far too late to help him.

When the time comes for Halleck to strike back, using his friend Ginelli the Mobster, there is a sense that maybe we are to root for Halleck. After all, Ginelli is built up to be the likable Italian Gangster. However, as he plows onto the scene and starts using horrible means to get his way, both Halleck and the reader learn that no matter how nice, a killer is a killer. King's description of the maniacal glee that Ginelli gets in bringing pain to the Gypsies is just as chilling as his depiction of the curses. Perhaps even more so.

As much as I enjoyed the way in which this story builds, the ending is one of the best payoffs, because it's exactly what you think might happen, if you're following along closely. I like when a book has an ending that meshes nicely with what's come before. Halleck thinks he can be rid of his sins, but our old, seemingly ageless Gypsy antagonist knows better. So do we, and so does King. When we get to the final scene, it hits Halleck worse than the car he used to kill the old Gypsy woman in the first place. The setup and execution are about as well done as I've read in a good long time.

In some ways, this book is more literary than it appears. We have violence, but it's almost secondary to Halleck's reflection on the way he--and many, many others--live our their daily lives. We don't think about how much we have until something causes us to lose those advantages. (Think of how many people out of work now who never gave a thought about the other 5% of the country who are chronically and constantly unemployed.) We try to dismiss that which we cannot control, and ultimately, look to blame others for our problems. We keep our dirty little secrets, and hope like hell they never come to light, all the while hating those who share in them.

Come on, you know you have a few. Don't try to deny it. You can't, and neither can I. By the end, neither can Halleck. That's a commentary worthy of being taught in school, and frankly is made all the more interesting because it contains supernatural elements and bloodthirsty mobsters.

Thinner is a great horror story on its face, with multiple levels of commentary weaved in and out of the descriptions of nightmares and cancerous tumors. It's a tribute to King's qualities as a writer that he can do both without taking away from either one. If you only think of Stephen King as a schlocky master of cheap horror, think again. Try Thinner on for size--you might just change your mind.

Lines of Contention by J.G. Lewin and P. J. Huff

I have fondness for political cartoons, though I find that these days they tend to be a bit less clever than I remember them growing up. I have several books containing political cartoons on a variety of subjects, so when I saw this collection on a recent trip to Harper's Ferry, I jumped on the chance to add it to my shelf.

Lines of Contention focuses on the many political cartoons of the Civil War, a time when all eyes--even those in Europe were on the United States and how a dark horse presidential candidate would deal with a major challenge to the idea of a united country in the face of a significant ideological difference.

These cartoons may be crude and offensive more often than not, but they carry with them the voice of a generation and show that popular opinion was as apt to swing violently then as much as it is now. We may ask for cleaner portrayals, but the shifting sands of opinion, blunt panic or belligerence, and generally weak understanding of details show up just as often here as they do in the cartoons of the week feature in a major magazine.

Lewin and Huff give a strong introduction to this collection discussing the importance of political cartoons (which may have started with none other than Benjamin Franklin) and how we can use them to see what people were thinking. I also like that they discuss the difficulty of mass reproduction, the large number of newspapers in the 1860s (Gettysburg alone had 11, if I am remembering correctly), and that just about every paper had a strong bias one way or the other, which comes out in these cartoons.

The book is structured into several chapters, and my only problem with the way the book is put together is that the cartoons are not always in chronological order. It can be a bit disconcerting, and I am a pretty solid Civil War buff. I do appreciate that each comic is given a context, and figures that might be familiar to a person with a Civil War Preservation Trust member but not to the general public are pointed out and explained. There were a few even I didn't know!

My favorite part of this book by far was that Lewin and Huff searched for less common cartoons to include, staying away for the most part from drawings we've seen a million times in other books. Jeff Davis in drag is pretty familiar by now, but how about Lincoln eating his treasury secretary as a fish? Or Lincoln cowering before the might of the British as a trapped raccoon (with likely double meaning)? There's even one of Congress as a bunch of unruly schoolboys, doodling and feuding during a lesson on the Constitution. I greatly appreciated the chance to see these kinds of commentary, and I think anyone who picks up this book will feel the same way.

If there is one thing I'd have changed, it would be to give a bit more attention to Confederate papers, or at least talk about why there are less of them. Were they too offensive for print? Burned and lost in Sherman's raids? Just non-existent? It's a question that we don't get an answer to, which is a bit of a shame.

Still, Lines of Contention was a great book to read and one I'm happy to own. It fills a gap in Civil War history for many readers, including myself, and really helps show what the public was thinking during the long conflict. If you or someone you know is a fan of both politics and the Civil War, pick up a copy of this book. You'll be glad you did.

The Incredible Double by Owen Hill

It's not often that you stop by the new mystery section of your library and find a book that's about a bi-sexual protagonist. So, though there were other books I was interested in, this is the one that came home with me. I probably could have made a better choice.

Clay Blackburn is a man of unusual occupations. He's a book hunter by his tax return, a dying industry in this age of Amazon and E-Bay. That's why he moonlights as an unlicensed private detective, the first of many unlikely things that really kept this one from being a book I'd recommend to others, despite some really cool ideas.

As we meet Clay, money is a bit tight and despite his leftist leanings (he's friends with a man who has quite a few resources on the radical fringe but never gets caught, which I also find unlikely) he takes on a case that involves assisting a Joe Walton-like figure who owns a drugstore chain. His employer practices are questionable, but that's no reason he should meet with foul play, and anyway, the money is good.

When Clay digs deeper, he finds a beautiful woman and a vast conspiracy that combine to give this book its name. She makes him do things most people can't, but will it cost him everything to be with her? With his employer turning against him and his only allies a set of conspiracy theorists, semi-homeless men, and radicals, can Clay survive?

The answer is probably not, but since this book is part of a series, Hill has to put the reader through increasingly unbelievable hoops (and a few total cliches about a femme fatale) to keep Clay alive. I'd have been okay with this had the plot been tighter, but characters roll in and out of the story as needed, ideas are forgotten, and the whole process is just so muddled that even after reading the ending twice, I didn't find a way to make logical sense of the whole thing.

Maybe I wasn't supposed to, and should have just relaxed and enjoyed the ride. I certainly am no stranger to extraordinary tales, and can take a fish story as well as anyone. The problem I had here is that the plotting was so loose, it almost felt secondary to the whole operation. When you are dealing in a genre that bleeds cliches like a character who has been shot with a tommy gun, plot is essential. I'm afraid this book's plot felt like something that needed workshopped a few more times before publication.

There are some good points, which is why I was maddened by the writing itself. Clay's sexuality is taken as a given, as are the other queer characters. A character going through a sex change is treated as normal, and even an object of sexual desire here and there. (Unfortunately, this is marred by some racially tinged remarks that have no place in a book set in the present day.) I of course was geeked at the references to old books and hunting for books, even if I've given up the practice myself. I also enjoyed several of the one-liners and the attempt to have a noir feel to the proceedings.

On the other hand, what worked for a 50s sleuth won't fly today, and I cannot believe the ease with which these characters do illegal things. I feel like Hill should have done more legal research, and not been as blind to modern realities as Clay appears to be. It's okay for your character not to know, but the author, as God-of-the-story, should know much more. I also found a lot of the chapter breaks to be arbitrary and artificially short. This didn't help the flow of the writing any, and led to me feeling like I had to work to stay with things. That's not where you want a detective story to go. The more the reader moves, the less they have time to think.

If you are going to constantly reference some of the greatest detective writers (Clay lives at the Chandler, for God's sake), then you'd better be ready to be compared. Sadly, I don't think this book meets its mark. The Incredible Double really should have been double-checked before it met final publication. There's just too many holes in the plotting and too much stilted writing to be what I was hoping for. Despite some good ideas and respectful treatment of alternative sexualities, I just can't recommend this one to others.

Between the Assasinations by Aravind Adiga

[If that's the kind of thing that matters to you, I read this as an audiobook.]

Sometimes it's good to get outside your reading comfort zone, especially in the realm of fiction. I know there are some folks who think that the best reading comes from reading a particular type of literature only, because you can read almost everything that comes out.

I don't work like that, as a casual glance at my reviews here or on Panel Patter can show you. I prefer to read whatever strikes my fancy, and try as many new things as I can. It doesn't always work, but hey, it's worth a shot.

That brings me to this book, Between the Assassinations, a collection of short stories set in a darker side of India that most would rather not touch. There are lower-caste people, pimps, deranged priests, corrupt cops, and desperate men and women just looking for a way to survive in a world that grows crueler by the minute. These are their stories, and they aren't pretty or polite.

Adiga pulls no punches when it comes to depicting life in his fictional town. There is no attempt to sugarcoat the baldfaced lies, deception, and general despair that haunts just about every character we meet in these chapters. This is both a blessing and a curse: Adiga's characters are refreshingly honest, but most are so unlikable that after awhile, it's hard to want to keep spending time with them.

That was my major issue with Between the Assassinations. I read books for their characters, and so many of his were so unlikable, it made the book drag in places for me. I was moved almost to tears when a little girl must risk the dangers of the street to get her drugged out father his fix. A rogue bookseller, who is tortured for the Satanic Verses, captured my heart. I understood the despair of the newsman who learns that his whole life has been a lie. Even the man who tries to get ahead in life but lets his lust get the better of him is a person who you want to root for, at least for a time.

But so many of the others are just so rotten, like the elderly priest who cannot stand his students trying to live out their impulses, or the punk rich kid who decides to be a terrorist. Their stories felt like they took forever, and I couldn't wait to be rid of them. I had less strong feelings about the boy who opts for a fast life and dies for it or the old communist who opts to turn to lechery when the party's faith leaves him, but they, too, were just not all that compelling to me.

It's not just that they were horrible people. I can enjoy a book about a horrible person just fine. My issue is that they only had one common feature--misery. That's an overwhelming theme of this book, but when you apply it to an unlikable protagonist, the story fails to grab me.

This is not to say that Adiga is not a good writer. His prose is bleak, to be sure, but that's the point. His dialog felt natural for these characters, whether I like them or not. I have a small knowledge of India, but not enough to picture this world on my own. Adiga does a great job of painting the setting, without getting too wordy. This book has an amazing shared universe, and I give Adiga a lot of credit for putting that together.

In some ways, Between the Assassinations reminded me of the noir books I read earlier this year. Like those books, there are ups and downs in here, and that may be enough for some folks to skip this one. I can't say that I'd recommend it, but if you are looking to try something different, and are okay with having a book that's likely to dampen your mood after you read it, this one is worth a look. If you do, I'd love to know what you think.