Invitation to a Beheading, by Vladimir Nabokov: Initial Thoughts

Vladimir Nabokov, a fellow I've written about before, has quite a broad body of work that extends well beyond Lolita. His work, from what I've read, epitomized the transitional period in the 20th century from the modernists like Joyce and Woolf, to the postmodern writers such as Barth and Pynchon. Nabokov's narratives are thoughtful as they are funny and entertaining, hardly containing self-seriousness in spite of of the grim subject matter. This novel, originally released in Russian in the 1930s, doesn't delve into the worlds of academia and American lovestory road trips, but rather very European themes relating to an absurdly oppressive and classist environment.

The person who is to be beheaded, Cincinnatus, is being held in a castle-like fortress for a vaguely defined crime of the mind. His captors refuse to tell him the date of his execution, and they and all the other characters behave in infuriating ways. But this is not realism, nor a fairy tale... the illogical and inconsistent framework of the world lead us to believe that this is perhaps a dream world--hinted at further with references to two Cinncinatuses. Whether or not the "real" Cincinnatus is imprisoned for a "mind crime", real or imaginary, is unclear in a first read-through. Of course, the dream-world theory seems perfectly logical when one thinks of her own dreams--and how, ironically, things that happen in her dreams often occur outside of her dream-self's control--even inexplicable things like your cell neighbor forming a tunnel through your wall and your in-laws lugging in their furniture with them when they visit. The story is realistic in its representation of surrealism.

One could say that Invitation is somewhat of a cross between Alice and Wonderland (with illogical rules believed to be logical by everyone but the protagonist) and The Trial (with its political themes and veiled critique of the justice system--as well as an unnameable crime). Both pre-date Invitation. Like both of these works, Invitation causes some confusion (after all, most of us are used to reading stories in which the worlds depicted follow some set of logical laws) and probably warrants a second read, ismply due to the strangeness of the world portrayed. I can see how this purely surrealistic structure did not garner a lot of popularity, even while the author was well-established by the time it was printed in English. But, as a fan of surrealism, I did enjoy it, and Nabokov's narrative style is never a chore to read. That was what really set it apart from The Trial--Kafka's grimness was often too deadpan for my taste.

The political themes were subtle; obviously, the bogus imprisonment and beheading-as-entertainment were comments on oppressive European regimes (such as Russia) but the story had a quasi-historical air to it (I kept imagining the characters in late-19th-century garb--plus the fortress seemed a helluva lot like a castle). If you read it, read it for its stylistic merits, and check off another book on your Nabokov reading list.

Hidden Gems: All I Wanna Do (aka The Hairy Bird/Strike)

I've found that Gawker's a really good place to find something new. This goes for just about everything: books, music, movies, TV shows...

While the articles on this site amalgamation do talk about these different forms of entertainment, one can find some interesting recommendations in the comments, which are often far better for the researcher of precious pieces of art that fell out of range of the pop-culture radar (or at least, my pop-culture radar) dominant in one's time.

The other day I uncovered such a discovery: a reference to a movie this commenter dubbed "The Hairy Bird." I was intrigued, especially since one of the movie's stars is Kirsten Dunst (an actor I'm rather fond of) and centers around an all-girl's school (a setting that I am at least intrigued by, if I haven't watched a lot of movies/read a lot of books about girls' schools). I immediately searched for it online, under the name of "Strike! (All I Wanna Do)"... and in the title credits it's called "All I Wanna Do"...with a vaguely pubic peach-colored bird prancing around the names in the cartoon opening. Why it goes by so many titles, I'm not sure...and I'm not really a fan of any of them.



The premise: in the 1960s, an all-girl's school is about to go co-ed due to a lack of funds, and several of the girls object to this change. Thus, they plot to thwart the Board's plans, which include making the boys of the school they're to merge with look like their true selves--that is, assholes.

I liked the movie a lot. It's an adventurous girls' school comedy that endorses empowering, testosterone-free havens of learning for girls--and presents that case in a compelling way. While there are a few tropes typical of this kinds of movie (the girls rebel, there's a prissy stuck-up foil who's picked on by the protagonists, and all wrongs are righted in the end, and rather quickly), All I Wanna Do stood out drastically from a lot of the other high school movies I've seen. Not least because female solidarity and sexuality were central themes.

The cast is, naturally, predominantly female, the teenaged girls are horny (even in 1961!) and not ashamed to admit it. The characters also had other interests besides boys, and most had careers in mind for their post-secondary plans. Dunst's character could be labeled the "mean girl;" but her meanness has a different motive. And in the end, she grows and changes--not a comeuppance. Of course, her status as a "mean girl" is more attributable to her role as a clever mischief-maker than as one of the "popular girls." She and the primary protagonist do become friends, after all. The one characterization I had specific issue with was that of Heather Matarazzo's (of Princess Diaries and Welcome to the Dollhouse recognition), who played a girl who obviously suffered from disordered eating, if not bulimia--and the others, who were supposed to be friends, treated it like it was just some weird diet. Granted, they probably didn't know how bad eating disorders really were in the 60s, but a tad bit of sensitivity would have helped. (On the other hand, her roommate, another not-conventially-pretty character, was much more self-confident)

But what truly shines is the dialogue. In addition to the kooky catchphrases like "up your ziggy with a wa-wa brush", the characters express thoughts pertaining to the larger themes of the movie in realistic ways... even if they came off as a little obvious. I had not really thought about how co-education marginalized women for decades because the boys were too often considered the smarter, more capable, and more valuable members of the classroom, as they were the ones who were expected to go to college and have a career. At an all-girl's school, girls were better able to learn because they weren't being ignored. It made me think, and further sympathize with the protagonists. As stuffy as the girls' school was, they were all up against the man--quite literally.

Plus this movie's really funny. I give it four out of five stars for sheer uniqueness and entertainment value!

What the Death of Borders Means to Me

This past week, former bookstore behemoth Borders succumbed to the inevitable and liquidated its remaining assets, i.e., closing the rest of its stores and going out of business. Now, there were a lot of factors that contributed to its demise--a changing literary landscape, widespread digitalization, the rise of Amazon, egregious mismanagement, etc.--that led the majority of the publishing and bookselliing world to conclude that Borders would not last the year. And these factors have been discussed thoroughly by those more knowledgeable than I, who agree that Borders should just die already.

My personal experience with Borders was not a terrible one--far from it. Though hardly as charming as the numerous smaller, intimate indie bookstores in the Boston area (my current place of residence), it retained the mute, cozy presence of bookstores that I do enjoy. And considering that many of its stores were pretty large, it was easy to just spend hours in the store and get tempted to buy any book I found the least bit interesting. In all, Borders didn't particularly stand out from other bookstores, except that it was huger.

But for most of my life thus far, I haven't lived in a town with a lot of bookstores--at least, not many that I knew of. (for my first sixteen years, I was dependent on my parents for transportation and had restricted access to the internet, so I didn't really know about the indie bookstore gems hidden in the 30-mile radius of my hometown) So for much of my childhood and adolescence, there was only the Waldenbooks at the mall, plus the library. Much later, a Barnes & Noble opened. And not too long after that, the Waldenbooks closed. (gee I wonder why?)


Waldenbooks was its own independent bookstore chain for 50 years before it got bought by K-Mart in 1984, then merged with Borders in 1994, and became an entity inseparable from Borders starting in 2004. So for most of the time I went to this Waldenbooks, it was already a part of Borders. I got rather attached to this store, needless to say. In addition to plenty of picks for my hungry young mind to peruse through, this Waldenbooks had an impeccable selection of manga--which was a godsend to me after my former go-to manga shop (and the place where my otaku phase started) closed. Barnes and Noble's manga offerings, by comparison, were pathetic, especially to a fan of shojo manga (they mostly had shonen manga and more adult stuff). (In other old sad news, TokyoPop, the publisher of some of my all-time favorite manga titles, folded this year, as well) Since I'm usually indifferent to salespeople when I already know what I'm looking for, I liked Waldenbooks because I could find what I was looking for, and even find something new that I didn't even know about. There were more than a few times when I walked out of that store with books that I didn't even know existed when I went in. Waldenbooks was my go-to place to spend my gift money--I hardly ever needed to give it a second thought. When I found out that it closed, I was saddened by the loss, indeed. Though at that point I was only living at home part-time, so it wasn't as big of a deal as the anime store closing was.

So, while Borders never really meant much to me, Waldenbooks did. And Waldenbooks was already dead.

As for what the future holds? Ultimately, I'm glad Borders is dead. I hope that this brings in new indie bookstores to neighborhoods that now will no longer harbor the increasingly obscure niche that is a bookstore, people will patronize their local libraries more often, and indie authors, publishers, and booksellers alike will be able to flourish with one less corporation grabbing for their shallow purses. One unfortunate consequence could be that Amazon grows even larger, putting publishers in a stranglehold and overshadowing the intrepid brick-and-mortar booksellers who just can't compete with Amazon's price gauging. I hope that the death of Borders will help to usher in a new era of publishing, as publishers and booksellers rethink their current models more seriously.

In all, I hope Borders will not die in vain.

Photo cred: Culture Tease and the Carnegie Center blog

More Posthumous Praise for David Foster Wallace

The other day at work I had the pleasure of proofreading an anthology of essays by contemporary writers, thinkers, and journalists, which featured two essays by the one and only David Foster Wallace. I also just recently finished reading his essay collection A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again. I've written a bit about him before, and I'd like to expand my thoughts to his nonfiction, which bears a lot of similar characteristics to his fiction--albeit less tangential and unorthodoxically structured.

Wallace is one of those writers whom you like more and more as you get more familiar with their particularly peculiar style (like that great guy who's a little rough around the edges, a new bicycle, or prog-rock bands). The first work of his that I read, I liked enough to read more, and after reading three whole books by him (Infinite Jest, Fun Thing, and Interviews), he's become one of my favorite writers. I read Infinite Jest too early to truly enjoy it, as I think I'd like it better now that I'm more accustomed to Wallace's style. Perhaps I will read it, in bits and pieces, again.

But what's much more remarkable about Wallace's writing is his voice. This is most apparent in his essays, as his fiction isn't always third person. The details he gives in both genres are so intricate and yet so strange and striking as to almost be hyperbolic, making the mundane and generally not very interesting (tennis, state fairs, Caribbean cruises, among others) absurd and extraordinary. Wallace's journalistic style is observational and honest to his point of view. He also meanders from topic to topic, though it all underlies the same basic themes of the essay.

One of the numerous praises included in this edition of the book called Wallace, unimaginatively, "smart and funny"...and that really sums up his narrative voice (though the phrase "clever and humorous" better reflects his writing level). Though the more carefully crafted writing voice is not necessarily indicative of an individual's speech abilities, I can imagine that Wallace would be rather a pleasure to converse with--and it makes me all the more sad that I will not be able to meet him, at least in this life (not that I'd ever have the guts to approach an admirable writer at a book signing or whatever).

What's more (and this is what I was originally getting at) is that his writing voice makes him a person who's so--likable. Part of it is the fact that he does not write himself out of the nonfiction story he's telling (very often because he is experiencing the subject), so we get a lot of his perspective. And I found that I could identify with his various thoughts about a given situation, since he reasoned them so well. And I don't agree with Wallace on all things, by all means. He does acknowledge his privileges and shortcomings (though he doesn't feel entirely good about it), and he's nonjudgmental. Wallace occasionally ribs on a strikingly funny character of a person, and certainly expresses pity for and admits an inability to identify with ordinary folks, but does not accuse anyone of anything. Rather, he almost admires these ordinary people who end up in his essays, as he himself feels like a dysfunctional member of society. Though perhaps they could stand to be a bit more thoughtful (not in a condescending way, though).

It's impossible for me to say whether his writing style was indicative of his true self--one would think that such thoughtful prose would only come from the heart of the writer, as it often is. And from some of the posthumous articles I've read about him, it seems as though it does ring true. There's enough to say about David Foster Wallace to make up an entire dissertation (if someone hasn't already, I'm sure they're on it now that his oeuvre is complete), but for the sake of brevity, I'll stop here. If unusual, funny, and absurdist fiction or nonfiction floats your boat, check out his writing!

Anime Review! Kaitou Saint Tail

Finally, I'm writing about something other than books for once!

For the past few weeks, I've been watching this kinda-sorta obscure mid-90s maho no shoujo (magical girl) anime (distributed by the now-defunct Tokyopop). My main motivation for getting into it was because I read (and liked a lot) the manga, but I never got to read how it ended. So, one day I was bored and wanted to watch something new--and hey, why not find out what happened in the manga with the anime? I had even seen the first few episodes of the anime via VHS, and I liked what I saw: excellent animation, cute character design, and a fascinating setup.

***WARNING: SPOILERS***

Saint Tail is basically a romantic comedy, with a magical girl twist: the titular character is a thief who steals from thieves, using her magic to procure the stolen items and return them to their rightful owners. Her alter-ego Meimi's best friend, Seira, helps investigate new cases, and her crush, Asuka Jr., is intent on pursuing St. Tail.

As I soon found out, there was a reason it remained obscure, quite unlike Sailor Moon, Fruits Basket, and Hamtaro--all girl-oriented anime that made it to American TV. Well, it was...kind of...eh.

Though I was drawn in immediately, the excitement that had been slowly building with the introduction of rivals--and raised stakes--plot development petered out after barely ten episodes, and the next ten were basically filler one-shots. After a few of these filler episodes, I grew bored and impatient, anxious to get back to the real story--i.e. episodes that were actually based on the manga. The Sailor Moon also arguably used filler, but more often to an extent that revealed more about characters that we don't get to know so well in the manga. Some of my favorite episodes in the Sailor Moon anime are episodes that focus on the other Sailor Scouts. I did enjoy some of the filler in Saint Tail, but it was basically the same formula for each episode: there's the initial setup at school that's at least vaguely related to whatever's been stolen, someone comes to Seira with a theft sob-story, Meimi sends Asuka Jr. a calling card, turns into Saint Tail, and successfully steals the item in question. Sometimes Asuka Jr. almost catches her, and sometimes not. Oh, and the bad guy always gets caught. The just-world fallacy that's so pervasive in kids' TV is all over this anime.

But...it's not just the filler. Not just some, but ALL of the characters are woefully underdeveloped. Even Meimi! One could argue that she does developing, "growing out" of Saint Tail and realizing that Asuka Jr. is the most important thing to her (this is a fantasy romantic comedy after all), but we learn hardly anything else about her, other than her magical and athletic talents. Asuka Jr. is smart and wants to be a detective, Seira is a nun-in-training (because, I think, she starting having "sinful" thoughts about one of her female classmates...).

And when things start getting intense (like in the last few episodes), the tension drops too soon. Like in the end. A couple of real thieves who can use magic too show up...then in the end they just, like, leave! WTF??? The stakes get raised, but not high enough! I want my anime to be EXCITING!!! The will-they-won't they bullshit (even will-he-catch-her) gets OLD after a while! And everything was wrapped up too nicely, too quickly, along with a terribly short epilogue. A note to storytellers of all nationalities: epilogues are no good if everyone already knows the answers to the "questions" you "answer" about the main characters' futures. (ahem, JK Rowling...) You don't need to spell it out for us.

In summation, this anime had so much potential...almost Batman potential, with its own set of recurring villains, a mysterious past (we never find out when or why Meimi became Saint Tail), and a tense love story. But the anime either focused too much on the love story, or really nothing at all, and it left me wanting something better. Sadly, I am no longer as fond of Saint Tail as I was in my teens. All style, not much substance, unfortunately. I'll give it a generous 6.5 out of 10. Watch Cardcaptor Sakura instead.

ETA: I originally had an image to go with the post, but some mofo copyright police keeps taking down the ones I use! BUZZKILLS! So I've given up. Just google it if you want pix.

Parable of the Talents: An Analysis/Review

Parable of the Talents, by Octavia Butler, is probably a science fiction novel that you haven't heard of. I hadn't heard of Butler myself until about a year or so ago, and sadly have never read any of her work until now. Alas, many of my favorite writers are dead and gone. Butler, unlike a lot of mainstream sci-fi writers, features a more racially and sexually cast of characters in her stories, and brings up themes critical of the patriarchal establishment. Obviously I was excited to finally read one of her works...and it certainly didn't disappoint.

While I didn't get around to reading the first book (Parable of the Sower), I could follow the story rather well without much background information on the characters and plot. It stands great on its own.

Talents continues the story of Lauren Olamina, who by championing a new religion, Earthseed, is a preacher and a prophet. Unfortunately, as she gathers allies and followers, the fundamentalist Christian cult Christian America rises to power, perpetuating the fear and chaos that has spread throughout the nation. At some point she and her people who live in the humble, isolated community of Acorn are ambushed by these extremists, forcing Olamina into her toughest ordeal yet.

Talents contains a lot of the science fiction elements that I love: dystopia, a hope for extrasolar space travel, strong female characters, and of course, a great story. I read the book in a week. It's a different kind of page-turner from YA--being an adult book, the plot is more grim and the subject matter presented more thoughtfully--but I wanted to keep reading to get to know about the characters and the world they live in.

One of the biggest challenges for sci-fi writers is to present a plausible reality and continuous relevance--and Butler did that magnificently. Butler, like all good dystopian writers, constructed a future that in 1997 seemed all too likely, and that even today could still be our future. Unlike many others, however, Butler presents a "solution", as she called it, should this future become real.

But, there's a lot more to the story than plot. First, the novel's presented in fragments, most of which come from Olamina's journals. The other parts come from her brother, her husband, and her daughter. Though Olamina is a sympathetic character, her dedication to Earthseed is not seen in a very positive light by those closest to her...and her daughter. I sympathized with all of them, considering their various ordeals, but I wanted them to understand Olamina, who, while she was not perfect, was only doing what she thought would advance the human race, what would fulfill her own sense of duty, even if they felt she was wrong. Butler shows how a person working for the greater good may not be seen as so good by her philosophy, a three-dimensional perspective that reflects the complex themes of the novel.

Another aspect of Talents that I enjoyed is the introduction of the notion of a "successor" to Christianity, Islam, etc. As strong as these religions are now, a new, upstart religion could emerge and--with time--overtake them all and become the new most-practiced religion. Christianity and even Judaism were not around for all of humanity, after all. The fact that there is only a god of change makes this religion unique, and ties itself much more nicely with reality than Scientology, another sci-fi religion. Instead of being good in hopes of a rewarding afterlife, Earthseed advocates space travel as a common goal that humanity can strive for, uniting communities and fostering positive change. Butler presents a vision of the future that may be unattainable, but it's nice to think that no matter how tough it gets, the human race will come together, and they themselves will create Paradise on Earth.

Due to its exciting, engaging, and thoughtful approach to character and theme that extends beyond plot progression, Talents is one of the best books of its kind that I have read so far. I recommend it to anyone that wants to read some smart sci-fi that deviates from the norm.

Mockingjay, and the Disappointment of Hurried Good-byes

OK, I finished the Hunger Games trilogy about a month ago (I read Catching Fire and Mockingjay in quick succession). I won't say much about Catching Fire, but like many second-installments, it was better than the first. I loved all the new characters, the new revelations about Haymitch (one of my fave characters), it was just as fast-paced and exciting as the first, and the ending blew me away.

***WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD***

My main gripes came with Mockingjay. Unlike the first two installments, the pacing really slowed down. The entire first part was Katniss hanging out in the underground metropolis of District 13. When it was time to go to the Capitol, I got really into it. The blurring of the lines between the "good" guys and "bad" was also really interesting, and not something you see very often in sci-fi/fantasy stories. Though that perspective brought about some depressing rumination towards the end of the novel... which is where my problems begin.

While I wasn't expecting everyone to live (though I figured Katniss, Gale, and Peeta would live, cuz if one of them died, the love triangle would be too easy to resolve), some deaths I found particularly upsetting in their abruptness: namely, Prim, the whole reason Katniss entered the Hunger Games--and set the entire trilogy in motion--in the first place. The suddenness of it all was like when Fred was killed off in Deathly Hallows, only times 1000. Prim was reduced to a mere plot device in her death, to ultimately challenge Katniss to find the strength to keep on living. I know killing in war is senseless, everyone's a potential casualty, blah-blah-blah, but I felt that was needlessly cruel of Collins to do that, when there wasn't much of a reason for Prim to even be on the front lines in the first place. After all they've been through...you hurt them (physically and emotionally) even more?

That was the main thing. This also happens with less than like 50 pages in the book left to go...and we're at the lowest point. The rest seems kind of rushed, especially once Katniss kills the next president-to-be, Coin. There's a pervasive sense of hopelessness that drags itself throughout the rest of the book, even when we fast-forward through the recovery and reconstruction period and find Katniss settled down with Peeta. Someone pointed out that these last few chapters could have been a whole other book in itself, noting that these very important events were hastily rushed through. Guess that's why JK Rowling killed off Dumbledore in the sixth book... And hey, I wouldn't have minded a fourth one, getting to spend a couple hundred more pages with these characters.

But my main disappointment I guess is with the--er--bittersweet ending. In series where the stakes are so high it's almost impossible to see how one can overcome them, there's often sadness and tragedy. But this ending...was such...a downer. There was all this existentialist musing about how whether humankind should even really be allowed to continue existing, given all the destruction they give each other and the environment. Yet they keep on living...why again? Because the instinct to live is more powerful than the compulsion to kill yourself off?

Also--and this was something I wondered throughout the entire series--is everyone just ignorant, or is Panem really the only country left? Did all the other humans on the planet really get killed off some point in the past? Five-six billion of them? Really? I'm just going to go with ignorance--it's not like Katniss and co. really learned anything in school other than the basics of reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic in addition to the Capitol's propaganda. I sense a brief foray into fanfiction coming on...

But all in all, I enjoyed the series, and like to analyze it almost as much. The series definitely warrants a second read-through...however, I should read some other stuff for a while.