Fahrenheit 451 (part dos)

Well I finished it, and I'm really not quite sure what to say. I'm sure there was some kind of symbolism or allusion in the last few pages, but if there was, I sure didn't catch it. Plot-wise, it made me pretty angry. It's one of those books with a very vague ending that really doesn't resolve any of the problems that the book created, and that just ticks me off. Why couldn't the book just end with Montag spreading the value of books throughout the city and everyone realizing how stupid they were? I guess it's because that would make the book too concrete and leave less room for discussion about the book. Isn't it true that most of the most popular books are very vague and have loads of ambiguity? I think so.
I really enjoyed the first half of the book, and I also enjoyed the majority of the second half. Unfortunately, Bradbury must have done something to change the book in the last 10-15 pages. I don't know what it was, but I didn't like it. He still wrote the same way with a bunch of figurative language and detail, but there was something missing...
I still enjoyed the character of Montag and how he was continually fighting an inner battle, and as terrible as this sounds, I was almost cheering when the city was blown up and Mildred died. That's one thing that Bradbury did right: Kill off the stupid people.
Overall, I enjoyed the book for the most part, which is all I can ask for. It gave me some entertainment unlike some other books we've read (That's right, I'm looking at you Color of Water), and for that I say thank you Ray Bradbury. At least this is the last book we have to read. Right? Please tell me I'm right.

Fahrenheit 451 (part uno)

93 pages in (119 actually. I read ahead. Oops.) and I'm really enjoying Fahrenheit 451 so far. It's similar to Life of Pi in that the main character seems deeply disturbed and is continuously waging inner warfare in order to weed out his demons, which makes the book all the better. The way the future is portrayed is actually quite frightening, because it depicts the way that society is headed in a startlingly accurate manner. Bradbury does a fantastic job of avoiding straight narration, rather using conversation and deep description to bring the story along. In all honesty, the plot isn't a very developed one, from what I've read, but Bradbury still manages to spice the story up in a way that makes it enjoyable. In addition, the book has moments that are utterly hilarious. For instance, Captain Beatty's spiel on page 61 about tricking the average citizens into believing they're valuable and informed was hysterical. I thought that actually quite notable, in that it shared a characteristic with the book itself, in that the book is predominantly dark and cryptic but has sporadic flashes of fire, and the funny moments represent that fire. Loose connection? Undoubtedly.
As much as I like the book, I hate Mildred. She seems to represent the average people in this futuristic society, but she's SO STUPID. The more she became involved, the more I hated her. She represents that which I hate in real people: stupidity, at the highest of levels. The quick death of Clarisse bothered me a little bit, but after continuing to read, I kind of forgot about her, which is probably what Bradbury wanted the reader to do. Making the readers share traits with characters in the books, in this case disregard and short memory, is an immeasurable skill that few writers seem to have.
Overall I'm enjoying Fahrenheit 451, and having already read ahead a little bit, I will continue to like it. It's my favorite book out of the few we've read so far, and I hope the end is just as good as the beginning.

Life of Pi (part quatro)

To say I was baffled by the end of The Life of Pi would be an understatement. For starters, Pi's entire personality changed, for the better in my opinion, from that of a bipolar doomsayer to that of a bitterly humorous parasite. Of course, being alone with a tiger for 227 days may have had a little to do with that... Then there was the whole dual story predicament where Pi retold his story in a gruesome, human-affiliated way. This seemed not only hideous and disgusting, but extremely symbolic and meaningful. I think it represented the author's belief that introducing humans to a situation changes it for the worse, a belief that Mr. Robert Sutton shares. And finally, I have one final question: What exactly did Pi have under his blanket at the hospital? It must have been pretty gross considering what he kept pulling out of there.
Pi's religious belief seemed to fade in this last part, not to say that it wasn't there, it was just mentioned less and less as it went on. Another observation I made was that the two interviewers were jerks. Pi just got off the Pacific Ocean after 227 days, and they just treated him like a mentally incapable/useless person. Another thing that bothered me was the departure of Richard Parker. RP was my favorite character throughout this book (Out of a big field might I add: Him or Pi? Hmm, which to choose...), and he just dropped off like Boromir from the Lord of the Rings.
My final thoughts on The Life of Pi are that it's a novel that shares many traits with its protagonist: At times exciting and funny, yet at others exhaustingly repetitive and tiringly austere. I enjoyed it for the most part, excluding the dreadful parts of course, and I'll have mostly fond memories as I think about it in years to come.

Life of Pi (part tres)

As the pages continue to turn, so Pi continues his fateful journey to his ultimate destination: Canada. All joking aside, Pi has really become an interesting person in my eyes. Sure, he seems to be slightly bipolar, at times feeling like the king of the world (or lifeboat), and then sporadically turning around and dooming himself psychologically. Evidently, these are the types of characteristics one picks up as they lounge on a lifeboat with a 450 pound Bengal tiger for long periods of time.
Martell has also continued to impress me with his mastery of the written word. I challenge the reader to find another author (other than the late Robert Jordan) that can write more than 5 pages about a guy living on a boat in the Pacific Ocean with a tiger. Monotony should be prevalent, only it isn't. Martell, somehow, continues to create words out of nowhere, and for that, he has my respect. The only thing left is to finish the book, which at this point seems a little challenging. Darn you Calculus.

Life of Pi (part dos)

(This would have been posted last night but my internet was out because of the weather.)

The second part of Martel's book started off in probably the best possible way: "The ship sank". Having had some previous knowledge of the plot and story of the book, I knew what was to come, but the conciseness of this statement complemented Martel's prior use of simplicity to explain very deeply controversial and complicated subjects. Throughout this part, Pi's devotion to faith, all of them, is further portrayed through various ways, and the story itself really takes off. The redundancy I so despised in the first part has fantastically disappeared, and the result is a vastly improved read.
Martel has continually played to his strengths, chiefly with regards to aiming for brevity and simplicity, while also appealing to his reader’s emotions (Pathos for you curious-minded souls). I enjoyed the first part, and I was pleasantly stunned by the excellence of the second part, and now I look forward to reaching the end of Martel’s brilliant work.

Life of Pi (Part uno)

The thing that struck me most was the fact that Martel's writing showed, it didn't tell.  Immediately I knew that that was going to allow me to enjoy the book.  As of right now, the book is fairly enjoyable.  I've found myself laughing at parts, like when Pi and his parents were confronted by "the three wise men", and I've also seen some different views on religion in general.  I've always thought that religion was basically set in stone, that there was one belief, and then there was another, but the way that Pi discovers religion, 3 at once actually, and that he discovers them all in the same way through different manners is very intriguing.  The simplicity with which he approached it was astounding.
I was bothered slightly, however, by the large lists that he dove into in the beginning chapters.  It seemed like he was rambling on and on about random animals that, to me at least, seemed to have little or no relevance to the story at all.  A few anecdotes seem slightly dragged out, as though they were intended to draw curiosity but really only served to bore.  Overall, though, I'd have to say I'm really enjoying Life of Pi, and I look forward to getting into the (hopefully) good part.

The Color of Water (part tres)

    First things first, I have to get this off my chest.  I might be the only one thinking this, but it has gotten on my nerves for as long as I can remember.  Why, pray tell, do poor people have so many children when they clearly can't afford it?  The way that Ruth talks about having children it's as if they just pop out whenever they feel like it.  But now that that's out of the way, I have to actually talk about the book itself, which I frankly enjoyed.  Despite his rough start, McBride managed to eventually find solid ground on which to end the book and his incessant whining, pleasantly giving the book a respectful conclusion.  Although I have already stated my immense confusion and distaste for poor people who reproduce at ridiculous rates, I came to respect Ruth and actually wish that I could have met her.  Every day I hear of stories of people who pushed through adversity, but her story just seems to top them all.  Basically, older Ruth is much more impressive than younger Ruth, primarily because she seems much more human, as though she actually had some idea of the world around her rather than living in a state of induced obliviousness.
    Overall I would have to say this probably won't be a book I'll make a priority to remember.  Sure, it was a good read, and yes, it did paint an accurate vision of the prejudice in the older US via a firsthand account, but I just feel like it was a little too 'needy'.  Throughout the whole book McBride seemed to expect people to feel sorry for him and every other black person in the world, which is understandable, but at the same time, a bit outlandish.  Despite a shaky beginning, I managed to gain tidbits of knowledge and understanding from The Color of Water.

The Color of Water (part dos)

    Although in my previous post I clearly made it evident that I wasn't enjoying this book, it's begun to grow on me.  Sure, James's mother is still an oddball, and he is still a gullible, confused guy, but I'm starting to understand why his mom did what she did and why James decided to write this book in the first place.  First off, as most of us know, Ruth's father was a complete (insert appropriate word here).  At first it was just the sexual abuse (Yeah, just) but then it escalated to a stage well past the vicinity of obscenity.  Simply put, he was a jerk.  The more I read about Ruth's upbringing, the more I realize why she cared for her children and their privacy so deeply, which was mainly because she knew that it's priceless.  I'm also extremely impressed by how she handled all of the obstacles thrown at her during her childhood, taking them all in stride and just going with the flow.
    McBride has started to captivate me with his writing, as opposed to annoying me (See: Chapters 1-9.).  Up to this point he was a useless little kid who had no idea what he was doing or what was going on.  As he aged, he started to understand the world around him, despite still being absolutely boggled by his mother's actions.  His maturity makes the book much easier to read and much less annoying to comprehend.  Although I'm enjoying the book much more than I first did, I'm still not excited about continuing.

The Color of Water (part uno)

After reading roughly 85 pages of a book that my little sister could probably read in an hour or two, I've come to a few conclusions about James McBride and his Hitler-esque mother.  First and foremost was the latter, primarily her obsession with telling her children to be social outcasts and to care about nobody but themselves.  I understand her telling them to worry about themselves only, but the way she tells her children to completely disregard other people and their opinions was a little outrageous.  Had McBride followed his mother's instructions exactly, he never would have gotten this book published or accomplished anything noteworthy in his life.  My problem isn't as much with McBride as it is with his mother's philosophy on life.  Sure she had a rough childhood, but that doesn't mean she had to attempt to shield her kids from the real world because, despite what she may have thought, they were going to be thrown into it eventually.  Yet, I did admire one aspect of McBride's mother: her intentional obliviousness.  She had a great mindset when dealing with problems, the best mindset actually, which was to completely ignore them.  This is a lost quality that doesn't seem to exist anymore.  For example, imagine me, a small white boy, walking in the hallway and accidentally brushing shoulders with a black girl who was, admittedly, a little on the chunky side.  I, knowing that the halls were crowded and that it happens regularly, trudged on, ignoring the incident.  She, on the other hand, turned around and let out a roar of anger, the likes of which I'd never heard, exclaiming that, and I quote, “This white boy done pushed me up!”  The scene that ensued was a flurry of empty threats and foul language (Not from me, of course.  This is a true story by the way.) that would make any old lady plug the ears of the nearest child.  Evidently, we can all use a little bit of voluntary obliviousness.
    The more I read the more I tired of hearing stories of McBride's troubled childhood.  They all repeat the same, endless message: "We are poor.  Listen to how poor we are.  Man, we were so poor that this one time...”  I enjoyed the first chapter, but the incessant redundancies soon took their toll, and I was overwhelmed with feelings of lethargy and utter boredom.  I'm sure McBride thought he was being funny or cute when he was writing these tales, but enough is enough.  Unfortunately, there are a great many pages left to read, and I fear that there are many more 'adorable' stories of McBride's childhood to come.  We'll just have to wait and see.

On Writing: Summation Essay (or part quatro, whichever you prefer)

    Through his writing, King managed to convey to the reader that the only way to be successful in writing is to persevere.  Now, anybody can say that perseverance is necessary to mastering a skill, but the opinion's one should value most are those from people with experience.  Simply put, King has this quality.
    "I came home to Bangor on July ninth, after a hospital stay of three weeks. I began a daily rehab program which includes stretching, bending, and crutch walking."  What would you do in this scenario?  My guess would be that you would retire to your house and try to milk the scenario for all it's worth.  The ever-vigilant Stephen King, on the other hand, decides that he wants to continue writing his unfinished books.  The man has a passion for writing.  However, at this particular instant, I think that it was more of a personal objective to prove his worth to himself rather than a concrete desire to continue writing.
    Obviously King has an affinity for writing, else he wouldn't do it so often.  But his dedication to the craft is what sets him apart (to me at least) from other writers.  Don't get me wrong, other authors go through adversity, but King's story does have a little more significance than that of any other author's that I've heard.  When skimming along the pages (or Kindle screen, whichever), the reader notices one consistent theme in On Writing: King is always writing.  Even when he's faced with the dreadful writer's block (Gag. I hate writer's block.) King remains persistent: "it all just seemed too hard, too fucking complex. I had run out too many plotlines, and they were in danger of becoming snarled.  I circled the problem again and again, beat my fists on it, knocked my head against it... and then one day when I was thinking of nothing much at all, the answer came to me."  Personally, I would have given up when I was beating my fists on it.
    Without a doubt, King is a dedicated person.  We can all take a lesson from the man whose first great book was about a teenage girl who had telekinetic powers and had tampons thrown at her by other teenage girls in a locker room.  And if this twisted, horrifying scene doesn't sum up the business of writing, then I don't know what does.

On Writing (part tres)

    The conclusion of On Writing didn't fail to impress me.  First of all, obviously, King deserves some serious man-points for surviving that van accident.  Another thing that really strikes me about King is that he continually reinforces the idea that he really does not care what people think.  He tries to convey this idea to the reader, that one must have a thick skin and can't try to please everybody, because it will result in the pleasing of nobody.  As King specifically said, "You can't please all of the readers all of the time; you can't please even some of the readers all of the time, but you really ought to try to please at least some of the readers some of the time."  But what King showed me that impressed me most of all was his commitment and how he tried to show the reader that this trait is completely necessary.  Google defines commitment as  the trait of sincere and steadfast fixity of purpose, and if writing a book after being hit by a van doesn't fall under this definition, I'm not sure what can.  King admits that writing can get insufferably irritating, but he regularly repeats that staying committed to the task at hand will produce the best results.
    King's goal with this book was to relate his tale of how he became a writer, and provide some tips for aspiring writers.  In layman's terms, King succeeded.  I have proved this over the course of three blog posts, and King proved it when he said: "I didn't bring you all this way just so you could start up the same old shit."  Fin.

State of the Union Speech

    I feel as though through Obama's entire speech, he was just trying to dodge a bullet.  He knew, as did everybody, that he was under enormous pressure to deliver an epic speech, and I believe that in this aspect he failed.  Granted, he is a good public speaker and has great charisma, but his speech seemed to contain promises that seem impossible to uphold, including his idea about electric vehicles("1 million electric vehicles by 2015". America cannot break it's current dependency on oil this quickly.  And besides, there are 300 million people in the country, so 1 out of every 300 people driving an electric car is a breakthrough?  I'm baffled.) and his plan for a nationwide high-speed rail system (This won't work.  Not when cars and airlines are so reliable and the huge amount of regulations that would inhibit the rails from traveling any faster than a car can.).
    His words on education seemed to be hopeful and full of positive statistics, only these statistics are flawed.  Sure, schools may be graduating students at higher rates, but this is only because the number of dropouts (students who would bring the failing percentage up) is increasing and the likelihood of failing a class is decreasing exponentially (There are multitudes of schools in the country that will do whatever is possible to prevent a student from failing a class to improve the school's image.  As long as they're passing, the school looks good, and the flawed statistics "improve".).  When reality is attributed to these skewed statements, they seem much less impressive, do they not?
    I would like to say that I'm glad he's deciding to finally deal with the issue of illegal immigration, but I can't.  I want the issue dealt with, but the rate that Obama is fulfilling former promises (here's a link: http://www.politifact.com/truth-o-meter/promises/obameter/), I'm a little concerned that he may soon forget about it or just disregard any further discussions on it.
    Several other comments he made seemed tremendously vague, probably on purpose so that he could walk the line between parties.  Take, for example, his statement that South Korea has greater home-internet access than America.  The word 'access' was probably intentionally used because of it's vague connotation that could be used to describe availability of internet, or the ability to use internet?  If it refers to availability, data has repeatedly shown that 95% of Americans could have internet if they had the desire, but only 66% of the population has a broadband connection.  It's true that the only country to surpass the US in network traffic is South Korea, but this traffic is not from the aforementioned home.  It's mostly from government affiliated jobs and locations of that origin, thus disproving Obama's claim that South Korea has greater home-internet access than Americans do.
    So, as much as I'd like to hope that Obama meant what he said he was going to do, I find it hard to believe that he honestly thinks the stuff he's saying is really going to help.

On Writing (part dos)

    King continues to impress me with his nonchalant style of, for lack of a better statement, not-giving-a-crap.  As he moved onto a more education centered section of his book, he resumed using his straightforward style and priceless vocabulary (Cozening raconteur? Definitely. Insalubrious dithyramb? Not so much.) to convey his vast knowledge of writing.  I used to think I was a fairly decent writer, but the more of King's novel I absorb, the more I begin to question my own talents.  For instance, I envy his ability to form hilarious short statements, which he cranks out like a Twinkie factory distributing morsels to Oak Grove.  Among these are the ever-amusing "it's perfectly all right to prick your finger, but very bad form to finger your prick", the gut-busting "a British advertising man with a proper education can make magazine copy for ribbed condoms sound like the Magna goddam Carta", and the side-splitting "I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops".  Could I  devise but one such statement I would stop writing altogether in an effort to preserve the reputation I would have built.
    I identify with Mr. King on several factors, such as his extreme animosity towards passive voice (which I occasionally fall victim to) and his idea that one should never fish for a better word than the one they first thought of.  Admittedly, I do periodically crack open a Thesaurus to embellish my writing, but I make every effort not to do so.  There was also a time when I thought that a good writer had no need for a working knowledge of grammar (I still wish it were so.), but I have come to realize that it is a necessary component of writing.  As is apparent when reading, King has accumulated an enormous library of information in that perverse mind of his over the course of his life.  I've come to the conclusion that there are few and far between who can compare with this man when it comes to writing and grammar (Shoemake tops the list.).  As I said before, I'm anxious to continue reading, but dreading the conclusion of this wonderful piece of... Well I don't know exactly what to call it.  The reader may fill in the blank as they wish.

On Writing (part uno)

     While reading about Stephen King's tragedy-plagued life, I learned loads of information about the man, probably more than was necessary.  Despite his rough language and lack of beating-around-the-proverbial-bush, his writing and unique perspective enabled his writing to contain enough meaning that it can be considered serious literature.
     King's bluntness and apparent absence of a conscience were what made me continue reading, even though I was completely disturbed by several events.  At times I found myself refusing to give in to my gag reflex, like when he was "yarking" eggs and when teenage girls were throwing tampons at each other.  However, somewhere deep down in my twisted conscience, I found myself chuckling along the way, completely disgusting myself in the process.  My reaction sums up what King's writing epitomized, which was a mixed reaction including both hilarity and atrocity.
     There was not one single section that I enjoyed the most, but all the little statements over the course of the pages that enthralled me.  A few examples include: "Colonel Sanders sold a hell of a lot of fried chicken, but I'm not sure anyone wants to know how he made it", "standing in front of a group of author-struck fans and pretending you don't put your pants on one leg at a time like everyone else", and "Someone made a break for the fence and had to be knocked down" (referencing the failure of Dodie to regain her social status).  It was these collective statements that continued to amuse and intrigue me throughout the forewords and What Writing is, and, admittedly, I find myself dying to keep reading.