http://blogcritics.org/ A sinister cabal of superior bloggers on music, books, film, popular culture, politics, and technology - updated continuously. en Copyright 2005-2007 by the authors Sat, 28 May 2005 22:17:09 EDT http://backend.userland.com/rss Blogcritics.org custom software http://blogcritics.org/ Phillip WinnSunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding. Administration0@blogcritics.org Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/28/221709.php Voracious ReaderI enjoyed Unnatural Fire by Fidelis Morgan, but it isn't nearly as good as its sequel The Rival Queens. The situations and dramatic constructions in Unnatural Fire aren't nearly as memorable, and the characters are not nearly as engaging as they are in The Rival Queens. I'm glad I read the second in the series first, or I might not have gotten to the second, better one. The characters are not realistically foolish. I know that sounds like an oxymoron, but the story is too much like the common comedy of manners. The characters are just too dense. Furthermore, with the exception of a character named Betty, the deaths of the book's characters didn't illicit any emotional response from the reader. In other words, their deaths result in nothing more than a dull thud. The apparent villains are not attractive, and are gravely flawed. The villain isn't a fallen hero at all. The place and voice of the story were lacking the same delicious qualities that the second book has. It wasn't as easy to laugh at&#8212or along with&#8212the book's characters, nor are the descriptions of period London as well wrought. I'm only tempted to keep it because I'm rather fond of the author's second book. Books30271@blogcritics.org Sat, 28 May 2005 22:17:09 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/26/182708.php Voracious Reader"O Lord, oure Lord, thy name how merveillous" &#8212Chaucer's Canterbury Tales My fiancé and I are reading Ways of the Christian Mystics. Because he doesn't like to read together--and I love to--we compromise by not reading together very often; though, we often choose to read the same books. As a result, it doesn't come as a great surprise that he sometimes falls asleep when we read together; it's tempting to finish the book without him, but that would defeat the ends of romance and sweetness that our reading together serves. (It's not so romantic when set against the sounds of his snoring.) Anyhow, Ways of the Christian Mystics begins with a discussion concerning the history of pilgrimages. It explains that pilgrimages encourage "the spiritual dialogue between man and creation," as the journey to a sacred shrine or place brings them closer to God. Redemption comes from being close to God. Marching quickly through hundreds of years of pilgrimage history, Ways entertains secular and religious folk alike. It shares how Celtic monks traveled to shrines and/or the Holy Land to bring themselves closer to God, and that is when I thought of the Canterbury Tales, specifically "The Prioress's Tale." I recalled that the Prioress and many other pilgrims had less transparent motives for their pilgrimages--and, yes, I know the difference between history and fiction. The Tales begin with "the General Prologue" where Chaucer introduces all of the pilgrims. The Prioress is described as a gentlewoman, possessing all the etiquette/manners and sympathetic trappings of nobility. She keeps pets, including little dogs, which she feeds scraps from the dinner table. She wears a bangle on her wrist and a brooch/necklace (rather than a rosary, I assume, if rosaries existed yet) that reads "Amor vincit omnia" (the phrase "Love Conquers All" could be evidence of her hypocrisy, and/or symbolize an interest in physical love--sex and motherhood are probably not a terrific obsession for a Prioress). Notably, she doesn't act like a pious nun. In the prologue, she's a coquettish social climber who's more reminiscent of a woman attempting to maneuver her way through a royal court than a House of God. "The Prologue" introduces the idea of an entertaining storytelling contest, and so each character tells a tale. The Prioress tells a violent, sentimental, religious tale that makes listeners weep and turn away in horror. We empathize with the story's main character, a young child (or, at least, I think we're supposed to); thus, when she draws parallels between herself and her tales' main character, she wants the reader to feel sorry for her as well. The problem: She isn't an innocent child. So why does she want us to see her as innocent and pitiable?She sees herself as being childlike and innocent, but she comes across as childish, envious, and unforgiving and merciless. She hasn't given up worldly possessions and pride; she sports jewelry and wears her habit so that her prominent forehead is exposed. My version of the Tales, in a footnote, indicates that in Chaucer's time, the prominent forehead indicated status and noble or aristocratic bloodlines. As a Prioress, her pride and materialistic nature would probably have verged on being sinful, but must have been, at the very least, uncharacteristic of a Prioress. She has abandoned some nonmaterial aspirations by giving up the ability to have her own children and marriage. The difference, though, between The Prioress and her tales' main character is that she, unlike he, chooses to give something up for her faith, whereas he has faith without knowledge. (He willingly sings Latin hymns without knowing their meaning, and sings them as he wanders through a Jewry. Notably, he sings the "Alma Redemptoris Mater", yet the Prioress always leaves the word "Mater" out until the young boy has already died and is sprinkled with holy water.) Or, did she? Did the Prioress knowingly give up motherhood for her faith? In other words, does she have faith coupled with knowledge, or, is she like the character in her story, which would mean that she doesn't understand the demands of her own devotion and calling? While she sees herself as being like the boy in her Tale, Chaucer certainly intends parallels between the Prioress and the boy's mother, the widow, and that may tell us something about how Chaucer sees her to understand her faith. The Prioress mourns the loss of her own motherhood via the pathos of the widow's character. The widow cannot locate her son, so she becomes whiny and plaintive, inadequate, and ultimately has to seek the help of others in order to find (or care for) her child. Ultimately, the Prioress's behaves the same way when it comes to articulating that for which she has abandoned ordinary motherhood, namely her faith. She even draws attention to the fact that she has faith without knowledge by making fun of the Monk (Shipman's Tale) for having the exact opposite--knowledge without faith. She apologizes for that weakness, and we are left to draw our own conclusions and compare her weaknesses to the strengths of one of the only other female taletellers, the Wife of Bath. The Prioress is like the widow, namely incapable of caring for her own son (faith), protecting him from the evils of the world, and helpless, because she lacks the knowledge and rationality to do so.Because she lacks a rational understanding of faith, and is at the same time attempting to explain what faith is, she tells a violent, gruesome, anti-Semitic tale. At the end of that Tale, she asks for mercy for herself, sinners, and her listeners, but she doesn't appreciate the paradox between asking for mercy, wearing the Amor vincit omnia, and being so blatantly vindictive. The choice is either (1) the prioress understands the paradox of mercy and the violence in her tale, or (2) that she doesn't realize her own vindictiveness. It's hard to imagine what she believes that phrase means in light of the story she tells, but it seems she's genuinely clueless as to her hypocrisy.Aside from not living the phrase "Love Conquers All," her faith without knowledge keeps her from grasping the fullness of the Virgin Mary (that she is the mother of a man in the flesh and of the divine). In other words, she doesn't reconcile the earthly nature of motherhood with the heavenly nature of being God's mother. Although laudable to empathize with Mary's motherhood, faith loses meaning without an understanding of being "The Mother" as well. Instead of seeing herself as a strong protector of the innocent and of the faithful, she sees herself as an infant, drawing parallels between herself and a young boy. Yet, she isn't an infant, she's a woman. As a Prioress, she would have had authority over young women and some responsibility for teaching "the faith." Would a story about a young boy having his throat slit to the bone by Jews bring young women closer to God, would it entertain a party of pilgrims? Hm. Maybe she did join the pilgrimage to have a "spiritual dialogue between man and creation," but the Prioress will always be a pilgrim, perpetually struggling to reconcile her calling with her loss of motherhood. She has faith in the redeemer but uttering the complete phrase Oh Loving Mother of the Redeemer will never come easily. Faith without knowledge still seems to leave the Prioress in a dark place where mercy falls on only those with her sort of faith, and Love does not conquer fear and longing. So, in the end is faith enough? I hope so, but the Tale isn't very encouraging. Please feel free to visit my blog in order to read some of my book reviews and commentary. Books30200@blogcritics.org Thu, 26 May 2005 18:27:08 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/20/233141.php Voracious ReaderYears ago, my high school ethics teacher, who also happened to be my school's Vice Principal, complained about how awful John Grisham was for starting A Time to Kill with a violent rape scene of a prepubescent black girl. The gist being, that he was startled and disgusted. At the time, I thought "Whatever, I liked that movie." What a brat, right?Now, after having read Jordan Tracks, I understand why he felt as he did. Jordan Tracks by Stephen Wise, which is actually a decent book, starts with a patricide. And, that beginning almost kept me from reading the book. Gore does not scare me (couldn't be a criminal defense attorney, or own half the books I do if it did), and violence in books or movies doesn't necessarily offend me. I felt cheated. It cheapened the book, but I continued reading and am glad I did. Though the book's cover is amateurish, and it has some typos, a few mechanical and grammatical errors, and some pacing problems, the story is entertaining and thoughtful.Wise skillfully constructs a cast of small-town characters, capturing their common&#8212as in everday&#8212experiences, their shared joys and griefs, and their quiet moments. He describes such mundane and grimy details about where and how the characters earn their livings (at a turkey factory), that you feel dirty and tired on their behalf. The descriptions of their meals...in a word: YUM! "Christa's chocolate pie" YUM! His characters' world is tangible, you share in their experiences, and, therefore, you share in their journeys.His characters contemplate God's existence, love, and the nature of guilt. Some wallow amidst a sea of grief and are rescued by God. They hear and see their lives in the context of a larger mystery while others seemingly drown and not because God isn't there for them, but because they aren't listening to his ever-present voice. Eventually, even the hopeless or doubting hear his whisper.At times, the dialogue couldn't keep up with the strengths of the story. Soliloquies intended to convey religious fervor verged on awkward pedagogy. The author softens the effect a little by commenting on a character's ability to preach, but that doesn't alleviate the discomfiting situation that is oft repeated. I hope that it is the book, and not me. Maybe I'm uncomfortable with speaking loudly about God.Wise sure isn't. I think that may be part of why I liked the story, and am touched that the last sentence in the book is about happiness, and the last word in the book is "sound."Wise certainly reminded me of how important it is to listen and bear witness to the Lord.Please feel free to stop by my blog for additional book reviews and lively book-related chat. Books29871@blogcritics.org Fri, 20 May 2005 23:31:41 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/01/11/223922.php Voracious ReaderSo, I know that I have been less that dedicated to my blog, but I do have some good excuses. I've been traveling, have had pneumonia, and have gotten engaged since my first post. I hope those reasons suffice as good excuses. Well, CONGRATULATIONS to me. I have a wonderful, dedicated man in my life. He is a brilliant artist whose older works can be seen at www.werbal.net. His more recent works will be added soon, but we have to steal them back from galleries and buyers to finish the scanning process. I'm going to be baptised at Easter, and I passed the Bar.Some time ago, I began a book journal. When I first began I decided to keep a book of my own impressions and favorite quotations from whatever I was reading, my intial entries, which really included little more than vague musings, fell short of what I had set out to do. But at least it's a start.I thought Five Mile House was poor. I very rarely get sucked in by a book cover, and now I remember why. Too many cover illustrations promise more than they can deliver. And, for those of you with tawdry inclinations, this was not a piece of porn clothed as a "romance novel." I recall that it had something from the pre-raphaelite era on the cover. It was a terrible book that tried to be scary but barely acheived being boring. Exorcising Your Ex was actually quite entertaining. Before I met the man I'm currently engaged to, actually right before, I broke off a relationship with a crazy man. For those of you that know me you might ask, "Which one?" The one that I met at law school. I knew law school drew extremists, but I thought that they were simply narcissistic know it alls not the kind of extremists that imagine they are incompetition with your cats for attention, that drinking liquor is sin (something discovered after I had spent an evening recovering from final exams by drinking homemade margaritas with one of my finest friends), and that was soooo hated by that dearest friend that she attempted to craft an argument in favor of bestiality, while at the dinner table, just to annoy him. He was the kind that call at 2:30 in the morning, after you've broken up, just to see if you're home. Anyway, this book isn't going to win the Pulitzer, but it was very entertaining and gave me many a laugh at a time that I wasn't very much in the mood to smile. It hit home on many levels. It included many amusing anecdotes. Though I have never been quite so distraught about a break up as to committ a post-break-up sin, like doing a "drive-by"--that's where you drive by your ex's to see who he's spending time with or if he's as miserable and alone as you--I have felt the desire to other stupid things like leaving a beligerent drunken message on an ex's answering machine. Just for the record, I haven't ever done. The book was good for laughs. By the way, that whole margarita incident has probably contributed, at least in part, to my having found myself a man who can most certainly, and has, drink me under a table with both hands tied behind his back. By way of explanation, he is Irish Catholic. Need I say more?I read some Nancy Reich's books. Given my propensity to watch and read mysteries I thought that it would be entertaining, especially since she has been compared to one of my favorite beach book authors, (I don't mean this in a pegorative sense. I merely mean that I find her books to be a quick and interesting read), Patricia Cornwell, I thought the book was flat in terms of character development and plot. The primary character that acts as the story's narrator is too introspective given the narrow plot and themes. It was strong enough that I'll try another in her series, but the second will have to deliver more than the first for me to spend time finishing the rest of the series.Now, here was a gem: Nicholas Griffin's House of Sight and Shadow was great. It was self aware without being self absorbed. It was insightful, intriguing, well-written, and, when I finished it, I wanted to know what else he had written. It's difficult to describe the book because I liked it so much. I'm tempted to go into too much depth and that's even though I read it some time ago. It's a period piece--think Dickensian meets Freudian. Good for those who like philosophy and especially entertaining for those who have some familiarity with the history of science (thought that's absolutely not a necessary ingredient for enjoying the book).I thought that Fidelius Morgan's The Rival Queens was funny and effectively adapted the comedy of manners, see, e.g., Richard Brinsley Sheridan's play, The Rivals, into a novel form. I found it to be much more interesting than many actual manner comedies. It's characters were amusing. Think "Ms. Malaprop." The mystery plot was credible, and the story, while bawdy, was not boring. That's my estimation. Strangely enough, though, one of my dearest friends did not agree with me, so I'll throw her caution disclaimer in just for fun. Though she has actually read and acted in The Rivals and has most definitely read other comedies of error, she disliked this piece so much that she couldn't get past the first few pages. While I found it to be full of antic spirit and coarse entertainment, she just couldn't get in to it. As an aside, she also absolutely detested a book we read in college by Madame de Lafayette called Le Princess de Cleves (1678) which I adored then and now as a wonderful historical novel which fights to define love and morality. I would not advance the theory that it wins that fight, but it defintely exerts an admirable effort which is more than I can say of most. I don't recall exactly why she hated it, but only that she did. After reading through tedious law texts, papers and articles, I was in the mood for a cheery book. I loved the movie Bridget Jones' Diary and so the book seemed like a good choice. This was one of those rare exceptions where I read the book after seeing the movie. I hate to admit it, but even though Jane Austen is one of my favorite, if not my favorite, authors I still haven't seen Sense and Sensibility because I haven't had a chance to read the book. Anyway, I was looking forward to this read but was disappointed because the book wasn't nearly as lighthearted as the movie. I thought the movie was much more interesting. The movie succesfully ferreted out a decent present day adaptation of Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Granted, the book wasn't terrible. I merely found the movie to have done a better job creating engaging characters. I found the variations in plot between the book and movie to have made all the difference. I'd still recommend it for anyone that liked the movie. It's a short quick read. I did like the style and it's full of witty quips. Books29868@blogcritics.org Tue, 11 Jan 2005 22:39:22 EST