Month: January 2014

Only You Can Save Mankind


From ‘Only You Can Save Mankind by Terry Pratchett, first in the Johnny Maxwell Trilogy

I’ve been reading a lot lately and forgetting to, well, mention it. A lot of it’s been comics (I heartily recommend Castle Waiting by Linda Medley, Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong by Prudence Shen and Faith Erin Hicks, and of course I’m super excited they’re publishing the Ruby and Sapphire arc of Pokemon FINALLY. There is something satisfying I can’t even explain about seeing the games in art the way they were in my head. Also, the Ace Attorney comics are surprisingly pleasing! This has been a long sidetrack.) which aren’t as easy to review, but the books have been pretty good for the most part.

Read some Christie, Poirot’s Early Cases as well as And Then There Were None, both of which I really enjoyed. The second creeped me out pretty good in parts. The basic plot is, people are summoned mysteriously to a house and then they start dying.

Right before the above quoted book, I was reading The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo which is about a porcelain toy rabbit who is loved very much by a little girl, but doesn’t care about her. One day he’s lost at sea and ends up passing through the ownership of people he comes to care for very much and anyway, I had to shut that book down in the middle while I was reading because it made me start crying on an airplane. Considering I was also suffering from pretty bad food poisoning, I felt I’d alarmed my seatmate enough for that ride.

Kate DiCamillo wrote Tale of Despereaux, which remains one of the best books I ever read, and this one isn’t disappointing. When I found her other books were available as ebooks, they got boosted way the hell up on my to-read list, but are now officially ‘do no read in front of other people’ books.

Right after shutting down the book to regain composure, I had to choose another book and fast to switch gears. I chose Only You Can Save Mankind by Terry Pratchett, a YA book he wrote early on. His early stuff is kind of dire, but it was just what I needed. It’s full of interesting character descriptions and a fun videogame story with an alien race I like.

The only problem was the main character, Johnny Maxwell who was inoffensive but so generic that once he started interacting with the girl in the story I started desperately wishing he was Janie Maxwell because at least I wouldn’t feel like I was reading about a cookie cutter protagonist and it would have made parts of their interaction a lot less urgh to read.

I’m starting on the next book in the trilogy now, Johnny and the Dead which ominously starts off with Terry Pratchett explaining Pal battalions.

Gnomes

I’ve been reading a lot lately! Just haven’t been talking about it.

First off, I read Dinotopia and Dinotopia: The World Beneath by James Gurney. Both have art that just makes me feel happy all the way through. I preferred the first one as it was more of a journal exploration of the world and the switch to prose in the second was a bit awkward, but in the end I enjoyed them both very much. There’s two more, First Flight and Journey to Chandara, and while I have Chandara, I’m missing the one in-between, but I SUSPECT my dad is getting me it for Christmas! So I’ll resume them. As a result of wanting to read more picture exploration books, I’ve picked up Faeries by Brian Froud (and some other guy?) and Gnomes by I forgot already I suck. I did, however, make gnome icons:

I’m still in-progress with Gnomes, but it’s loads of fun. Great art and cute worldbuilding, my only complaint being a reliance on gender roles so far. And a bit about ‘bad blood’ as a reason for bad gnomes.

Now onto Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. I made an off-hand comment to someone on Twitter about the original canon, realized I wasn’t sure myself and downloaded a copy off Gutenberg to confirm what I thought. And then I thought, it’s only three hundred pages and I’ve got a few hours free. Why don’t I read it all?

And I’m glad I did! First off, and I realize this is probably totally obvious to everyone, it turns out pop culture totally lied to me about the contents of the book. Victor was nothing like how he’s portrayed in the movies, the monster was a freakin’ genius (and a hypocritical whiner), and there was a whole other narrator that was surprisingly gay where I wasn’t expecting it. And given Mary Shelley knew that chap Lord Byron, that may have been a ‘this exists!’ conscious thing.

Our conversations are not always confined to his own history and misfortunes. On every point of general literature he displays unbounded knowledge and a quick and piercing apprehension. His eloquence is forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates a pathetic incident or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love, without tears. What a glorious creature must he have been in the days of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin! He seems to feel his own worth and the greatness of his fall.

–Walton, the first narrator, on Victor. There’s other close male friendships in this book and Walton’s… well, I’m pretty sure only the fact Victor was pretty much about to die (and presumably straight) prevented the makeouts.

And! Another quote I liked and the reason I was reading the book in the first place, to know exactly what the monster looked like. This part isn’t in the quote, it’s mentioned elsewhere, but the monster? Eight feet tall. Victor dreamed BIG.

How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.

–Victor on his creation. Apparently the monster’s main problem was he was eight feet tall of corpsey uncanny valley.

Anyway, LOVED it. I’m so glad I read it! I’ve got people encouraging me to try Les Mis next, but I’m working on Little Women again because I finally got another copy after losing my last one. Oh Beth, your time is so short…