Sunday, July 28, 2013

Review: Cryptonomicon


Cryptonomicon
Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



My opinion of this book has slipped since I first read it. When I first read it, it was my favorite book in the world and I slowed down at the end because I didn't want it to end. I was in my last year of my Computer Science major and taking a project course focused around a play about the life of Alan Turing. Of course, I adored this book.
I've re-read it a few times since then, but it's been a couple of years. I expected to get swept away again, and I really wasn't. Which isn't to say that I didn't enjoy it -- I did enjoy it -- but it has tumbled off of its pedestal.
One aspect of the book which did not let me down was the humor in the writing. Stephenson can turn a phrase that makes me crack a smile.
I still genuinely enjoyed the WWII cryptanalysis sections of the book, and the narrative in the rest of it.
The strands still weave together marvelously, and I even picked up a few more of the ties this time.
A few things stood out in a negative light during this reread:
The technology is so VERY out of date; it was out of date when I first read it six and a half years ago, and it hasn't gotten any less out-of-date in the meantime.
I think that a few judicious edits could have tightened up the flow of the story. I almost had the feeling in a few places that Stephenson just really wanted to write about x, which was only marginally related to the story, so he went off on a lengthy tangent and wrote about x in the middle of this book instead of spinning it off into something of its own. I don't have major objections because I still found almost all of the book interesting, but I don't think it gained a whole lot from, for example, Tom Howard's several-page narrative about black stockings and fine furniture. It was written in an amusing manner, but didn't contribute significantly to the overarching themes, although it received a wink a few times when talking about heirloom furniture later in the book.
There was so much more sex than I remembered. That's not necessarily a negative thing, I just didn't remember it being quite so prevalent, and it wasn't really what I was in the mood for when I picked up the book. Also, it led me to notice the thing which annoyed me most during this reread: how entirely male-centric the book was.
I'm not saying that every book has to show a gender-balanced world. I also understand, having working in the software industry, that there are many more men than women in that sphere. But it is not just a lack of female characters that caught my notice, but the way that even the ones that show up are only addressed as far as they relate to the males in the story. The women are there merely to be objects of lust for the men. SPOILER: I think that the sex scene between Amy and Randy exemplifies this perfectly; the sex they finally have together is entirely about his pleasure. We get no clues about what the experience is like for her, nor does Randy seem concerned about how she is feeling except so far as she might be judging his performance. He is aware that she might be a virgin prior to their intercourse, but does nothing to acknowledge that fact or inquire as to her emotional or physical state. I only hope that she dumps him shortly after the book ends. Perhaps the author is just trying to accurately portray the thought patterns of the characters whose points of view he is sharing, but it is not appealing to me that they are all assholes when it comes to women. Goto Dengo is probably my favorite character to follow because little (if any) of his narrative has to do with his desire to fuck some woman or other.



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Saturday, June 29, 2013

Review: The Apocalypse Codex


The Apocalypse Codex
The Apocalypse Codex by Charles Stross

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



A typical [a:Charles Stross|8794|Charles Stross|http://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1355510574p2/8794.jpg], it was precisely what I wanted at the moment. A bit of tech, a bit of occult, with winning narration. I think that it wrapped up far too quickly, but I admit that I was more interested in packing than in paying attention to plot.



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Saturday, June 15, 2013

Review: The Girl of Fire and Thorns


The Girl of Fire and Thorns
The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



3.75 stars. I saw a picture of an ARC cover on Goodreads, and I'm glad they scrapped it because it was a perfect example of white washing and thinning. It's a big deal to the protagonist that she's overweight, and she mentions her dark complexion several times. However, it wasn't quite an ugly duckling story, as the beauty she finds most important in herself by the end of the book is her strength of character. It walks a fine line along the edge of getting preachy on the subject, but I think it doesn't cross the line.
This is a book about a princess, but it is not a fairy tale. It starts on the day of her arranged marriage, and stays real from that point onwards. I was dismayed by some turns of events later in the book, but secretly pleased that the author was daring enough to go there. I was also absurdly pleased with the author's style when it came to details; there were enough to paint an accurate picture but not so many to drag down the pace of the plot. There's one point when Elisa is in hiding, and the author doesn't skip over the part where Elisa is discomforted by a need to relieve herself, which is a detail we don't always need to know about, but about which I am frequently curious whenever a tense scene is described with lots of waiting. It makes it feel real to me. The plot twisted sufficiently to keep it surprising without making me curse the real world for interrupting my reading. I felt it stood well enough on its own, but I'll certainly read more.



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Review: Storm Front


Storm Front
Storm Front by Jim Butcher

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



2.5 stars, factoring in the performance, which felt like a cold read at points. Story was pleasant enough; I might read more if it's handy, but I'm not going to go out of my way for it. Nothing revolutionary.



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Saturday, June 08, 2013

Review: Lost in the Barrens


Lost in the Barrens
Lost in the Barrens by Farley Mowat

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



Well, that one sent me back to fourth and fifth grade. Of course, I grew up hearing bits of [b:The Dog Who Wouldn't Be|291179|The Dog Who Wouldn't Be|Farley Mowat|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1314371620s/291179.jpg|309091] as family favorites, but this was the first Arctic book of [a:Farley Mowat|41013|Farley Mowat|http://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1233807350p2/41013.jpg]'s that I'd read, and I'm going to have to read more. I am fascinated by the far North, and by living off the land; this book has sparked a desire in me to reread [b:Julie of the Wolves|386286|Julie of the Wolves|Jean Craighead George|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1347371734s/386286.jpg|778444] and other [a:Jean Craighead George|23509|Jean Craighead George|http://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1200683170p2/23509.jpg], including my favorite book from when I was 10-13 ([b:My Side of the Mountain|41667|My Side of the Mountain (Mountain, #1)|Jean Craighead George|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1347478739s/41667.jpg|2682098]). Also, I've put Wilderness Inquiry on my list for next summer, as I have no vacation time I can use for it this year.
I don't think I can actually review the book because it just sparked so many other feelings of nostalgia and desire for wilderness that I can't judge it as a work on its own.



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Review: Shantaram


Shantaram
Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



2.5 stars. I bought this one almost purely because it was on a sale and was something like $5 for 45 hours. Parts of it were absorbing, others faded into the background. I think I had been hoping for more of a travelogue type of novel, but that's what I get when I don't pay close attention before buying. Dug the narrator's Aussie accent, and it got me through several bike commutes.



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Sunday, April 14, 2013

Review: The Sandman, Vol. 1: Preludes and Nocturnes


The Sandman, Vol. 1: Preludes and Nocturnes
The Sandman, Vol. 1: Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



I know my friends will lynch me for this, but it didn't spark a deep desire to read the rest of the series. I don't know if that's because my taste in graphic novels runs more towards Astérix and Pogo (although I did get completely captured by [b:Maus|15195|Maus|Art Spiegelman|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1327354180s/15195.jpg|1658562] in junior high), or just because I've heard so much wonderful praise heaped on this series that it couldn't possibly live up to the hype. Or maybe it comes from the fact that I've only enjoyed Gaiman's work despite the horror in it, not because of it.



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Wednesday, April 10, 2013

March redux

Make haste slowly. Find a happy medium.

One of the things I have slowly, painfully learned is that perfectionism is poison to me. On the surface, the pursuit of perfection doesn't sound like such a bad thing. Striving to achieve the best results possible sounds like it would produce an excellent work ethic. I run into an insurmountable problem, however: Perfection is impossible. In an attempt to be reasonable, I qualify my goal by changing it into "doing the best that I can." Sadly, that doesn't fix everything, as two rather large flaws tend to trip me up.
First off, "the best that I can" is an extremely subjective goal -- for that matter, so is perfection.  It's generally left up to my judgement to decide what my best is. Most people are overly optimistic about their own abilities, so it's easy to overestimate my capabilities, and I'm aware of the fact, so I tend not to trust myself as a judge of myself; I can never decide if I'm being too harsh or too lenient with myself.
It's no surprise that I have always enjoyed those subjects which have concrete standards; I loved solving math problems in high school because of the intense satisfaction I got when an answer was provably correct. English classes quickly lost their appeal for me, despite a lifelong love of language and a childhood wish to become a novelist, because I disliked the subjectivity inherent in the analysis of someone else's work.*  However, a difficulty I have found in choosing to spend my time working in a field where "right" and "wrong" are relatively clear-cut is that it's entirely possible for me to find myself empirically wrong. When I have specifications and my software does not act in the manner described by those specifications, it does not work -- no question about it. That's humbling. In the pursuit of perfection (even limiting that to personal perfection), it can be absolutely demoralizing. Without solid data in front of me showing me that my failure rate is acceptable, my instinct is to see any failure as a complete failure and therefore completely unacceptable.  Perhaps it is immodest of me to mention it, but I rarely ran into the situation where I was clearly wrong in my coursework until I went to college.  Once academic** challenges regularly cropped up, it was humbling, to say the least; I had little experience dealing with the feelings which resulted from making mistakes or struggling and therefore lacked appropriate coping mechanisms, so I shut down completely and launched myself into the first depressive episode that landed me with a mood disorder diagnosis.
I've been chipping away at my black-or-white thought habits for well over a year now, but it's not easy. It comes back to trusting my judgement about what my potential is and how close I've come to meeting it with each effort I make. This leads me to the second flaw I face when I decide to aim for my personal best: my personal best varies with circumstances. Upon reflection, this flaw is really a simple extension of the first. I not only have to judge what would be an acceptable success rate (it sounds much better when I don't focus on the failures) for my performance on a task, I have to adjust that rate to account for my limited resources of time and energy.  Those resources are constantly in flux, so the job of becoming a good estimator becomes amazingly complex, even for relatively familiar tasks.  One way I'm trying to cope with that uncertainty is to break tasks down to extremely small chunks and attempt to be as conservative as possible in my estimates.  That way I get to set goals that I can actually accomplish, which is intensely satisfying and improves my mood drastically.
March was a month in which I became frustrated with this technique and how long it can take for me to make progress using it.  Never mind that rushing ahead under full steam typically ends with a crash for me, it feels amazingly reassuring to see how much I can accomplish in the beginning of a new venture.  New exercise regimes are particularly tempting to me and I cannot count the number of times I've thought about my ideal exercise schedule and then attempted to implement it, only to fail within the first few weeks because I've been too ambitious.
Make haste slowly. Find a happy medium.
Those are my mantras these days in an effort to avoid overloading myself and dooming myself to inevitable failure in attaining my personal goals.  Patience does not come naturally to me, and something about March with its change in the weather (and my birthday -- always a time for reflection) sparked a particular impatience in me, which was reflected throughout my journal entries for the month.

I'll be back at some point in May to write about whatever April topic catches my fancy.


*I now realize that finding supporting evidence for my analysis could be a very satisfying challenge, and my younger sister has led me to understand that my experience of the work is valid, so I suppose I could have approached those assignments I used to hate as deeply personal and been better able to live with myself. I still don't hold with the practice of ascribing intentions to a creator and always feel the need to hedge my bets and avoid declarations, which leads to wishy-washy and verbose statements.

**My self-worth is highly tied to academics.  I could write an entire post, or perhaps even a series of posts about why that's the case, but I will leave that aside for the present.

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

With apologies to Ogden Nash

I find myself looking at my 28th birthday, confounded as to how I got here, I can only imagine what the next ten years will bring. I dare not speculate that far ahead, because I may get sidetracked for a couple more beers.
Instead, I am looking only one year ahead, one month at a time. Recently, the author Neil Gaiman engaged in a project in which he presented a prompt for each month of the year to his Twitter followers and is using their responses to write stories.

When I was young, I wanted to be a novelist. I read voraciously as a child; reading was in my blood and in every aspect of my family life. I wanted to be a writer.
I heard that good writers write about what they know. I don't remember how old I was when I heard that, or where I heard it. I realized that I know very little in this world, and it seemed to me, that what I did know could not be of interest to anyone else.
Eventually, I realized that I had placed strict limits on myself. After all, I enjoy fantasy and science fiction novels, and those certainly can't be written from the authors' life experiences! Well, certain elements of them can draw from the daily reality of their creators, that is what gives the stories relatable and interesting characters and what informs which details are important to describe when building a new world and which can be left to the reader's imagination.
Still, I hesitated because it seemed to me that I could never come up with an original plot or setting. It's all be written before. In a general sense, I'm sure it's true. But there are specific stories and details that haven't been combined yet.

I gave up my dream of being a novelist, feeling that I could not generate the ideas I needed, that even if I ever did manage to get something published, it would simply be an unremarkable work, and I wanted to be at the top of the field. I didn't just want to be a novelist, I wanted to be a great novelist. I wanted to be a household name.
That is not going to happen. It happens to very few people, and I will not be one of them. But none of them would be where they are if they didn't try.
I haven't written stories since early in high school, and those stories were not good. I still don't have any brilliant ideas, any plots or worlds I could create.
So I will turn to what I know.

I keep a journal. I don't write in it every day, and I don't write about everything. But I do write in it more often than not. It's personal. It's where I keep things so I can remember them. It's where I write things out so I can sort through my thoughts.
For the next year, I intend to sit down at the end of each month and read the entries of that month. Then I intend to write something. It might be a summary of what I've written that month, or a single memory which was brought forth by one of the entries. It might be a short essay on a topic which I mentioned. It might even be a story. I hope it won't be a poem because I have yet to write one of those that I've been proud of for more than a few weeks.
It's an experiment.
We'll see what happens.