<i>The Diamond Age</i> by Neal Stephenson

I really liked this book. I really disliked the ending. It reminded me of the ending of Fahrenheit 451---sort of the idea that nothing bad can end up coming of this. All will be well because we deem it so. Frankly, though, I am not sure what type of ending I would have preferred. Maybe tragedy---with Nell dying or sacrificing herself---like 100 Years of Solitude or Stranger in a Strange Land. Maybe it would have been better to know the end from the beginning, like with Vonnegut or The Virgin Suicides.

The Primer was an awesome imaginary creation. Its ability to teach, learn, incorporate and adjust was very, very cool. This is what computers should be doing. It was too bad, in some regards, that there needed to be a human doing the work behind the scenes. But the consistency of the human seemed to make the difference, giving Nell the ability to stick with the Primer and learn more than the other girls.

The mix of Victorian and SciFi elements is always a fun juxtaposition for my mind. It think instantly of Jules Verne, H.G. Wells and The Wild, Wild West (the TV show, not the movie with Will Smith). With all of these, and especially here, the mix of elegance with technology is very appealing to me. The Victorian imagery (not necessarily its rigidity) with its detail and elegance seems to be the perfect visualization of complex thoughts that are intricately and beautifully put together. It could be argued, though that the Victorians provided a complicated exterior when one wasn't needed (form not following function), but it provided an aesthetic of thought, which today could be, maybe best represented by a circuit board.

Overall, the writing was strong and the characters were well established. I, of course, liked the engineer (but not how he and his group treated women: their place was in the home). The ending, though, was hurried. I liked the tale told by the Primer and was often looking to get back to it when I was reading about the real world. I loved watching Nell learn. This is well recommended.

8/10

<i>American Gods</i> by Neil Gaiman

I liked the plot (well, except for the end) and the ideas, but the writing was horrible. Gaiman is the complete opposite of Vonnegut in style---he described in detail the character's apperaence, mind-set and actions. He provides details for the most mundane activities that a few words could easily convey. I felt myself wanting to pick up a pen and start editing the paragraphs. I did rewrite a few sentences in my head.

I was considering that Gaiman provided the detail to slow the reader down or to draw a distinction between Shadow's life and those of the gods. There is, though, much better methods for slowing down a story rather than giving intrecate stage directions. He also described the actions of the gods and their details in a simliar manner as he did those of Shadow's.

I did like the interludes---sort of background stories of the gods---that Gaiman added. Those were much crisper and better constructed in terms of detail than the rest of the rest of the book. I would have liked to read more of them.

The story, though, was good. I like the idea of gods floating around in modern times, trying, much like the rest of us, to find a place to fit in an always changing world. I had trouble, though, identifying many of the characters mythology. Gaiman was drawing from so many traditions, it was hard to keep track. I guess that is partly the point---that so many gods were brought to the US, that it is hard to keep track of them.

Overall, reasonably paced, poorly written, but a good story. Maybe a good book for a long plane flight where you can do little more than sit and read.

4/10

<i>Galapagos</i> by Kurt Vonnegut

I think this book typifies what I like about Vonnegut beyond his cynical nature. It took me reading part of a Wikipedia entry (warning, spoilers) on this book to realize that the big things that get me---why I keep coming back to his books---are his non-linear plots which tend to imply events rather than state them directly and his character descriptions, which are mostly done through the actions of the characters themselves rather than through formal descriptions. I guess I like to have room for my imagination to fill in the details of both the plot and character descriptions. I feel more invested in the book this way.

In this book, the narrator is a ghost explaining how the human race ends and, more importantly, how it is saved by a group shipwrecked on the Galapagos Islands. The ghost follows the group and their descendants for 1,000,000 years (not much of the middle is described, more the before and the after). The humans end up evolving much like their animal counterparts on the Galapagos, to a stasis point. Humans no longer have big brains. They live only to eat fish and lay in the sun and procreate. They still laugh when some one farts.

Definitely Vonnegut is questioning our modern society (the main portion of the book is set around 1986), showing us that so much of it is there merely to occupy our big brains, which have little to do since we are regularly safe from danger, hunger and cold. The resulting humanoids are safe, full and warm as well, but have lost what we consider a fundamental human quality: curiosity. The curious ones get eaten by sharks. They have reached a point where evolution stops (much like with the animals currently on the Galapagos), maybe similar to our current time with our big brains. But, the humanoids of Vonnegut's future have no charge to make things better. They have become a perfect fit for their geographic location. They are in their heaven and could imagine nothing further.

9/10

<i>The General and His Labyrinth</i> by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

This is a historical novel set in 1830 in South America as the Spanish are being ousted and the countries we currently know are being formed. Marquez handles the material well, balancing the historical fact with extrapolation of the characters' thoughts and actions. I didn't get the feeling that any part was patently untrue---his interpretation of the events were quite believable. In both the balancing and believability, I think Marques comes quite close to matching Shaara in The Killer Angles---one of the best pieces of historical fiction I have read.

Marquez's style here was as engaging as in 100 Years of Solitude, despite the historical setting. I like how the General was portrayed: as a man dedicated to an ideal even through sickness and lack of support. Most of the supporting characters---other than Jose Palacios and Manuela---tended to blend into each other and I was often forgetting who was who.

One of the best aspects of this book was the descriptions of the countryside and people. The General is moving about northern South America for much of the book and it is interesting how the reaction to him changes as he travels and how the description of the countryside tends to mirror those reactions: poor reactions in a swamp area, great reactions in the mountains. I really got a sense of the variety of political and environmental landscapes that existed during that time.

I was loaned this book by my thesis advisor. I'm not quite sure if he was trying to say anything with it. The General's labyrinth is his life's work: freeing and uniting all of South America. It seemed that as hard as he tried he was not able to find the way through to the ending he wanted. I hope my advisor isn't trying to say the same about my research---this method, though, seems a bit too subtle for him.

<i>The Virgin Suicides</i> by Jeffery Eugenides

This was a very intense book. In that respect it reminded me of Ethan Froam. Throughout the story you have a sense of the tragedy that will come, but you don't yet know the true horror/terror of it until the last few pages.

The descriptions of the house embodied the intensity of the book. The first descriptions are about the thickness of the hormones, etc. that are found in a house where five teenage girls are cooped up. The image of the always-damp bathroom sort of made my skin crawl. Thinking about the moist dead skin even now gives me the heebie-jeebies.

The book, I believe, is trying to make the argument that you can't hold people back from the world. Individuals must have some outlet for their lives. If none is given, one will be found. First it was Lux on the roof, later it was the deaths of all the girls. The only parts of their lives where they felt they still had control was the matter of their death. Breath and heart beats were all they could master.

The entire cavalcade of protection brought on by Celia's death was understandable. The lack of adjustment of that protection seemed to be what did the girls in. The father was helpless---thought I don't know why; maybe the outward appearance of the house represented the inward feelings of the mother?

The point of view for this book---sort of juvenile stalkers recounting their collection---added to the intensity. These now-middle-aged men still spent their time going over and over their collections, bringing back sacred memories. Just a bit creepy. It makes it tightly and seemingly lovingly (in the manner of the first half of Lolita) written. I found, though, that I had to step away from the story to break the intensity. I couldn't have read it in one sitting---though it seemed to beg to be.

Hocus Pocus by Kurt Vonnegut

Amazing---a Vonnegut that I have not read and really liked. There were a number of images that stuck with me. I liked the picture of the library with all the pieces of paper numbered for the book strewn out. I also liked the image of the professor sniping from the bell tower at the convicts below. Sort of a last ditch effort to save education. Oh, and the best has to be the bells that the students said were whale genitalia. Nice.

I think Vonnegut's point with this book is that life, on the whole, is thankless. No matter how long you care for your mad relatives, or help those who haven't learned to learn, you still aren't guaranteed to end up being given credit for that. You'll just end up in jail.

Here, Hartke (the main character) is not thanked by his wife, mother-in-law nor by his school. The prisoners---the outcasts of society---seemed to be the only ones who appreciated his help and used it for their own advancement, though not quite as he expected. The dumb and powerful don't know good information when they see it. The smart and imprisoned don't know how to use it. And each doesn't trust the other.