The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner, page 28.
I am really impressed by this author's condemnation of materialism and keeping up with the Joneses. I just wish that in the process, he didn't seem to condemn the metaphorical Mr. and Mr. Jones just for being a couple.
Let's see what our Soviet agent thinks of this near-future society, and to a larger extent, what the author thought of our present-day society:
They would take pains to impress him with their loyalty, their right thinking; they would have the proper photographs and flags on display. Small matter if they were afraid of some impersonal, august, omniscient security force, rather than the cold consensus of their neighbors--the effect was essentially the same.
That last sentence tells us that the author is talking about more than a fictional near-future world. Indeed, his fictional America and world is merely an exaggeration of our own--from the garbage filling the ocean, to everyone being armed, to the televangelist being a creepy pervert who tries to grope girls at parties and touches himself while watching others making out, but is still revered by his flock. (Although, to be fair, that last one probably isn't an exaggeration at all.)
The cold consensus of our neighbors--is that what we are so afraid of? I've often wondered if people in subdivisions are more likely than country people, or even city people, to feel pressured into buying expensive cars and boats to impress their neighbors. Country people look out their windows and see nature or their own field animals; city people look out and see strangers coming and going. But the people in the suburbs look out their windows, and see people that they have to live with and put up with, possibly for the rest of their lives.
They see the neighbor next door who always seems like a smugly perfect mom, or the guy across the street who always has to top everyone else with his gadgets. (Or am I just thinking of sitcoms?)
Either way, I have noticed that, in my experience, people living and working in crowded environments--suburbs, large employers such as schools and government organizations, and churches--tend to spend more conspicuously. This is especially true of churches, where the pressure is to put up a "blessed" front so that you look like a good Christian.
My mom had a "good" job for a little while, with a local government
agency. But she didn't like it, mostly because of the pettiness of the
women working there. She mentioned to me that every one of them had
designer purses and expensive cars. With how many people were working
there, the Veterans' Administration had become its own materialistic
subculture.
I'm sure there are some that resist the urge to buy nice new cars, furniture, boats, and vacations. But they don't talk about it. And living in the suburbs, especially more prosperous or middle-class suburbs, would not make it any easier.
They would strive to be dedicated pillars of their community, set on raising their children to follow in their footsteps, endlessly quarreling with them when they scoffed or asked unanswerable questions.
But he had seen a man under a tree: thin, wearing only a loincloth, one eye filmed with a cataract, who spent the day in ecstatic enjoyment of the sun's heat on his skin, and at nightfall fumbled in the bowl before him and ate what he found. There was always something in the bowl.
After that he had to be Donald Holtzer again, and Holtzer was not troubled by such thoughts.
The spy, "Holtzer," was thinking of a man he had seen in India, who owned nothing but a begging bowl. The man was content, even with so little. And "there was always something in the bowl." The universe, the world, provided for the man. And in a less general sense, his fellow human beings were willing to share. There was enough for everyone. How could Sheklov, even in his alter ego as Holtzer, not be changed after what he had seen? How could he ever be the same, when he had seen the alternative? Or when he knew there was an alternative?
I like how Brunner, the author, has a talent for making a seemingly insignificant sentence, in context, become dramatic and raise the conflict of the story and the inner conflict of the characters. That, at least, is something this obsessively homophobic--and thereby harmfully mistaken--man did right.
Showing posts with label Book Reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Reviews. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Book Review: TWET: An Alternative Explanation
In The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner, the title tells us that it is about time travel or alternate timelines. The back cover tells us that it is about trying to save the earth from alien attack. But this book is really about a near-future America that has gone off the deep end of decadence, racism, and Cold War paranoia. Those looking for time travel or aliens will be sorely disappointed.
But this book is ultimately, as I have been arguing, about the author's own internalized homophobia. For someone who portrays homosexuality so negatively, and thereby ostensibly doesn't like it...he portrays it a lot! This was published in 1973, and I am curious now to read the late author's later works, and see if he still has this obsession running through them.
I definitely think that the author was working through some personal stuff. And I hope he eventually resolved it, even if he died in the closet.
It is pretty obvious that the "bad," or decadent and racist, people, are the ones tolerant of or engaging in homosexuality. It's an open secret among both the elite, and the street thugs who try to kill a young woman in order to sell her expensive clothes. If we accept homosexuality (and to a lesser extent, straight promiscuity), the author warns, then the oceans and beaches will fill with garbage, gas station attendants will point guns at you every time you fill up, no one will be allowed to be artists or free spirits without hatred and harassment, and most of all, the aliens will blow us all up.
But there is a slight possibility that the author had better intentions than to just slam homosexuals and thereby feel more straight. As I said in previous posts, the homosexuality in this book has a distinctly dated flavor. Homosexuality here is, for a man, cheating on one's wife--not being faithful to one's husband. It is as homosexuality was portrayed often in the 1970s, not as it is portrayed and known today.
And that's the rub: In this terrible, materialistic society, homosexuality is a shameful or semi-shameful secret. It is embraced and accepted, but not very openly. I should say, it is tolerated rather than accepted. Two women at a party demand to sleep with the host because their husbands are making out with each other. And a Soviet spy has a "cover story" of sleeping with a man, in order to explain his occasional disappearances (to his wife, I believe, not his employer--it's unclear, however he does have a wife and has to at least pretend to hide occasional craving for a man).
In this world, as far as I know, there is no gay Pride, no gay marriage, no protections for LGBT people--and anti-sodomy laws are supposed to be enforced in some states.
And because it is so "tolerant" and yet so unaccepting, America has gone down the toilet. The oceans have filled with garbage and the aliens are going to blast us out of orbit, because of the way we treat our LGBT citizens. The white-collar ones have to keep secrets, and the racial minorities have to resort to a life of crime just to make ends meet. This form of tolerant homophobia goes hand in hand with racism and classism. Like certain others, LGBT people are tolerated, so long as they stay in "their place."
I don't think this was the author's intention, but this could also be a message that one could take away from this work. Either the author is telling us that tolerance of homosexuality is literally another sign that the end (via the wrath of aliens, and in a larger sense via the Cold War) is nigh, or he is actually more clever and subtle with his message than I thought.
But this book is ultimately, as I have been arguing, about the author's own internalized homophobia. For someone who portrays homosexuality so negatively, and thereby ostensibly doesn't like it...he portrays it a lot! This was published in 1973, and I am curious now to read the late author's later works, and see if he still has this obsession running through them.
I definitely think that the author was working through some personal stuff. And I hope he eventually resolved it, even if he died in the closet.
It is pretty obvious that the "bad," or decadent and racist, people, are the ones tolerant of or engaging in homosexuality. It's an open secret among both the elite, and the street thugs who try to kill a young woman in order to sell her expensive clothes. If we accept homosexuality (and to a lesser extent, straight promiscuity), the author warns, then the oceans and beaches will fill with garbage, gas station attendants will point guns at you every time you fill up, no one will be allowed to be artists or free spirits without hatred and harassment, and most of all, the aliens will blow us all up.
But there is a slight possibility that the author had better intentions than to just slam homosexuals and thereby feel more straight. As I said in previous posts, the homosexuality in this book has a distinctly dated flavor. Homosexuality here is, for a man, cheating on one's wife--not being faithful to one's husband. It is as homosexuality was portrayed often in the 1970s, not as it is portrayed and known today.
And that's the rub: In this terrible, materialistic society, homosexuality is a shameful or semi-shameful secret. It is embraced and accepted, but not very openly. I should say, it is tolerated rather than accepted. Two women at a party demand to sleep with the host because their husbands are making out with each other. And a Soviet spy has a "cover story" of sleeping with a man, in order to explain his occasional disappearances (to his wife, I believe, not his employer--it's unclear, however he does have a wife and has to at least pretend to hide occasional craving for a man).
In this world, as far as I know, there is no gay Pride, no gay marriage, no protections for LGBT people--and anti-sodomy laws are supposed to be enforced in some states.
And because it is so "tolerant" and yet so unaccepting, America has gone down the toilet. The oceans have filled with garbage and the aliens are going to blast us out of orbit, because of the way we treat our LGBT citizens. The white-collar ones have to keep secrets, and the racial minorities have to resort to a life of crime just to make ends meet. This form of tolerant homophobia goes hand in hand with racism and classism. Like certain others, LGBT people are tolerated, so long as they stay in "their place."
I don't think this was the author's intention, but this could also be a message that one could take away from this work. Either the author is telling us that tolerance of homosexuality is literally another sign that the end (via the wrath of aliens, and in a larger sense via the Cold War) is nigh, or he is actually more clever and subtle with his message than I thought.
Monday, January 2, 2017
Book Review: The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner--A Mind Warped By Internalized Homophobia
A quibble I have with this book is that the plot has nothing to do with the title, other than the aliens threatening to "bomb us back to the stone age," but that is not really time travel, since I doubt that we would then be interacting with actual Neanderthals. It's also rather strange for an alien race to threaten that (or seem to, by broadcasting images of Neanderthals to earth), and the Soviets would interpret the image that way, when that is an American expression.
In my last post, I talked about a "homophobic" joke on page 16 that actually makes two very good arguments against anti-sodomy laws. On page 18, we encounter a work crew, all black, who are tearing up a perfectly good road and rebuilding it, because they are on welfare and the government therefore makes useless work for them.
This book is a fascinating look into a mind warped by internalize homophobia, but it's also interesting that in Brunner's semi-dystopian near-future, race and class relations have deteriorated considerably, cars and other products have ridiculously short planned obsolescence built in, the sea and beaches are filled with floating garbage, radiation is so high that it is forecast on the news just like the weather, and everyone is so paranoid that cars have built-in guns and gas station attendants point guns at their customers as a matter of course. Tolerance for homosexuality, and for promiscuity in general, is in the same category as the environment going to shit, higher-class decadence as a contrast for increased overcrowding and poverty, and rampant racism and class differences among the races.
And yet...Brunner is portraying what, for lack of a better term, I will call "1970s homosexuality." In Brunner's world, a typical homosexual man marries a woman, keeps up a pretense of straightness, and yet at parties starts "necking" with another man. Occasionally, he also goes in search of a man to sleep with, while his wife and the rest of society looks the other way and pretends nothing is happening. 1970s homosexuality, at least as it is portrayed here, is just another form of promiscuity, like having a mistress. (In other words, it's like the actual behavior of anti-gay evangelical Christians.)
The author also seems unaware of the existence of bisexuality, since that word is never mentioned.
But homosexuality here is still a secret, even in a world that tolerates it. The author cannot seem to comprehend a world of respected, faithful, out gay couples--much less those I know today who are legally married, raising children together, and very involved in local Christian churches. (Presbyterian and Methodist, in fact.)
The most promiscuous homosexual of Brunner's work could not conceive of being so out of the closet, and so respected by most of society, as we have today. And yet, as awful as our world can sometimes seem, we have for the most part avoided the terrible things that, in this book, came with this tolerance and acceptance as a society.
So...sorry, Brunner, your warnings just didn't hold up.
The tolerance for homosexuality portrayed in this book is also clearly the product of a bygone era. People complain about it a little, but ultimately it's just a nuisance to straight friends and family members. It's a nuisance, instead of just a part of who someone is. It's like a son who annoys his traditional parents by having hair they think is too long. The attitude seems to be along the lines of, "Well, I don't like it, but what can you do?"
And for some people even today, that is progress--unfortunately. But for somebody who is as homophobic as the author, while trying to imagine "degeneration" in society or whatever he calls it, he cannot fathom the kind of tolerance we have today. And yet, the world has not ended.
Brunner also never thought, apparently, that gay people want to be respected in society, as themselves, and not just tolerated. That what we feel is love, and not just lust. That we want to marry our partners and stay true to them. That we're not just being promiscuous.
And maybe that's what would have saved the late John Brunner from his own self-hatred. I am convinced that he was working through some personal things, in this book and maybe others.
Maybe he would have had an easier time if he had known that homosexuality doesn't have to involve cheating on your wife--that it can also involve being faithful to your husband. I imagine that most people did not know that, in the 1970s when this book was published. Perhaps "The Wrong End of Time" is actually an apt description of where Brunner himself was. Too bad he was apparently unable to grow with the times.
In my last post, I talked about a "homophobic" joke on page 16 that actually makes two very good arguments against anti-sodomy laws. On page 18, we encounter a work crew, all black, who are tearing up a perfectly good road and rebuilding it, because they are on welfare and the government therefore makes useless work for them.
This book is a fascinating look into a mind warped by internalize homophobia, but it's also interesting that in Brunner's semi-dystopian near-future, race and class relations have deteriorated considerably, cars and other products have ridiculously short planned obsolescence built in, the sea and beaches are filled with floating garbage, radiation is so high that it is forecast on the news just like the weather, and everyone is so paranoid that cars have built-in guns and gas station attendants point guns at their customers as a matter of course. Tolerance for homosexuality, and for promiscuity in general, is in the same category as the environment going to shit, higher-class decadence as a contrast for increased overcrowding and poverty, and rampant racism and class differences among the races.
And yet...Brunner is portraying what, for lack of a better term, I will call "1970s homosexuality." In Brunner's world, a typical homosexual man marries a woman, keeps up a pretense of straightness, and yet at parties starts "necking" with another man. Occasionally, he also goes in search of a man to sleep with, while his wife and the rest of society looks the other way and pretends nothing is happening. 1970s homosexuality, at least as it is portrayed here, is just another form of promiscuity, like having a mistress. (In other words, it's like the actual behavior of anti-gay evangelical Christians.)
The author also seems unaware of the existence of bisexuality, since that word is never mentioned.
But homosexuality here is still a secret, even in a world that tolerates it. The author cannot seem to comprehend a world of respected, faithful, out gay couples--much less those I know today who are legally married, raising children together, and very involved in local Christian churches. (Presbyterian and Methodist, in fact.)
The most promiscuous homosexual of Brunner's work could not conceive of being so out of the closet, and so respected by most of society, as we have today. And yet, as awful as our world can sometimes seem, we have for the most part avoided the terrible things that, in this book, came with this tolerance and acceptance as a society.
So...sorry, Brunner, your warnings just didn't hold up.
The tolerance for homosexuality portrayed in this book is also clearly the product of a bygone era. People complain about it a little, but ultimately it's just a nuisance to straight friends and family members. It's a nuisance, instead of just a part of who someone is. It's like a son who annoys his traditional parents by having hair they think is too long. The attitude seems to be along the lines of, "Well, I don't like it, but what can you do?"
And for some people even today, that is progress--unfortunately. But for somebody who is as homophobic as the author, while trying to imagine "degeneration" in society or whatever he calls it, he cannot fathom the kind of tolerance we have today. And yet, the world has not ended.
Brunner also never thought, apparently, that gay people want to be respected in society, as themselves, and not just tolerated. That what we feel is love, and not just lust. That we want to marry our partners and stay true to them. That we're not just being promiscuous.
And maybe that's what would have saved the late John Brunner from his own self-hatred. I am convinced that he was working through some personal things, in this book and maybe others.
Maybe he would have had an easier time if he had known that homosexuality doesn't have to involve cheating on your wife--that it can also involve being faithful to your husband. I imagine that most people did not know that, in the 1970s when this book was published. Perhaps "The Wrong End of Time" is actually an apt description of where Brunner himself was. Too bad he was apparently unable to grow with the times.
LGBT/Book Review: The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner--Useful Bigots
The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner is a science-fiction novella published in 1973, which I picked up at a thrift shop for a dollar. I expected it to be rather heteronormative, but there are surprisingly a lot of mentions of gay people in it. They are not always good, and there are some very problematic portrayals of minor gay characters later on in the book, but I found one "homophobic" joke particularly interesting.
The story is set in a future world, in which America has become so paranoid of the Soviets that it has completely shielded itself from the rest of the world with its defense systems, and in which every car has a gun mounted on the dash board because even the citizens are paranoid. A Soviet agent smuggles himself into the country, trying to do something to bring about world peace before an alien race blows us all up because of our barbarism.
And yet it is not just from the Soviet agent's point of view. There is a man named Danty, whose profession is unknown, who somehow witnesses the agent come ashore. He seemed to have foreknowledge of this event, but doesn't seem to work for the government, because he does not alert anyone of what just happened. He seems to be a "reb," the future label for a loathed loafer. He also seems to have some sort of clairvoyant power, as well as power to influence others psychically. (Perhaps he is working with or for the aliens, somehow?)
Danty witnesses the Soviet agent come ashore and drive off with a man who met him with a car. Danty does nothing to stop it, or to tell anyone about it. He even, perhaps with his psychic abilities, turns off the defensive system that might catch the agent. He leaves it off, even though he doesn't know why he does so. (Perhaps some outside power or spirit influences him--again, the aliens?)
Danty then seems to influence a passing driver on the "superway" to stop for him, even though picking up hitchhikers is illegal and punished severely. The man himself is confused as to why he stopped, which makes me think that Danty had some sort of power over him.
They drive into a gas station, where they meet an attendant, in his tower, with his gun pointed at them, because this is a very paranoid world. A policeman drives up behind them, as the man who picked up Danty, Rollins, becomes sweaty and nervous. Danty comes back from the bathroom, as the cop demands his ID, and Rollins says that Danty is his friend.
The patrolman slapped shut and returned the redbook. "Okay," was all he said, but under his voice, clear as shouting, he was adding: So, a couple fruits most likely. I should arrest that kind on suspicion? I'd be at it all day. Anyway, they'd jump bail and head for a state where it's allowed.
This cop despises gay men enough to call them "fruits" unironically and totally non-jokingly, and yet he just made two very good arguments against anti-sodomy laws in the space of a few seconds. (And now that I look at it again, it seems that Danty read the cop's mind.)
A hardened, bigoted cop is just too weary, busy, and fed up with the non-effectiveness of anti-sodomy laws to enforce them. That's...actually pretty enlightened.
There may be problems with that joke I just don't see (please leave a comment about your thoughts, if you want), and the author later portrays people meant to be gay in a very unflattering light, but after thinking it over, I kind of like what happened here. The cop's, and what seems to be the author's, bigotry...works in favor of the "fruits."
The joke is also on Rollins, who is also homophobic, as Danty is amused by Rollins' blushing as he figures out what the cop is probably thinking.
The author, the late John Brunner, seems obsessed with homosexuality in this book. It is portrayed negatively, as a symptom of decadence and promiscuity, yet it is constantly there--especially towards the end, mentioned directly what seems like every few pages. It seems that Brunner was working through some stuff, and this book is a fascinating look into his mind.
Unfortunately for Brunner, he seems to have died with his internalized homophobia unresolved, as I could find no indication on the internet that he ever accepted himself enough to be with a man, or even stop marrying women. There is no indication, either, that he was in fact bisexual, and happened to fall in love with women. But now I am also curious to read some of his later stuff, to see whether he was still fixated on something he ostensibly didn't like.
There is so much homophobic/homoerotic content in this book, and I will be reviewing all of it. And even if he never came out publicly, I really hope that Brunner was able to accept himself privately (if you read this book, you will see how obvious his fascination really is). At least, in a way, it is good that he cannot potentially hurt anyone with his homophobic beliefs anymore...hopefully, I should say, with the fact of his writings living after him.
The story is set in a future world, in which America has become so paranoid of the Soviets that it has completely shielded itself from the rest of the world with its defense systems, and in which every car has a gun mounted on the dash board because even the citizens are paranoid. A Soviet agent smuggles himself into the country, trying to do something to bring about world peace before an alien race blows us all up because of our barbarism.
And yet it is not just from the Soviet agent's point of view. There is a man named Danty, whose profession is unknown, who somehow witnesses the agent come ashore. He seemed to have foreknowledge of this event, but doesn't seem to work for the government, because he does not alert anyone of what just happened. He seems to be a "reb," the future label for a loathed loafer. He also seems to have some sort of clairvoyant power, as well as power to influence others psychically. (Perhaps he is working with or for the aliens, somehow?)
Danty witnesses the Soviet agent come ashore and drive off with a man who met him with a car. Danty does nothing to stop it, or to tell anyone about it. He even, perhaps with his psychic abilities, turns off the defensive system that might catch the agent. He leaves it off, even though he doesn't know why he does so. (Perhaps some outside power or spirit influences him--again, the aliens?)
Danty then seems to influence a passing driver on the "superway" to stop for him, even though picking up hitchhikers is illegal and punished severely. The man himself is confused as to why he stopped, which makes me think that Danty had some sort of power over him.
They drive into a gas station, where they meet an attendant, in his tower, with his gun pointed at them, because this is a very paranoid world. A policeman drives up behind them, as the man who picked up Danty, Rollins, becomes sweaty and nervous. Danty comes back from the bathroom, as the cop demands his ID, and Rollins says that Danty is his friend.
The patrolman slapped shut and returned the redbook. "Okay," was all he said, but under his voice, clear as shouting, he was adding: So, a couple fruits most likely. I should arrest that kind on suspicion? I'd be at it all day. Anyway, they'd jump bail and head for a state where it's allowed.
This cop despises gay men enough to call them "fruits" unironically and totally non-jokingly, and yet he just made two very good arguments against anti-sodomy laws in the space of a few seconds. (And now that I look at it again, it seems that Danty read the cop's mind.)
A hardened, bigoted cop is just too weary, busy, and fed up with the non-effectiveness of anti-sodomy laws to enforce them. That's...actually pretty enlightened.
There may be problems with that joke I just don't see (please leave a comment about your thoughts, if you want), and the author later portrays people meant to be gay in a very unflattering light, but after thinking it over, I kind of like what happened here. The cop's, and what seems to be the author's, bigotry...works in favor of the "fruits."
The joke is also on Rollins, who is also homophobic, as Danty is amused by Rollins' blushing as he figures out what the cop is probably thinking.
The author, the late John Brunner, seems obsessed with homosexuality in this book. It is portrayed negatively, as a symptom of decadence and promiscuity, yet it is constantly there--especially towards the end, mentioned directly what seems like every few pages. It seems that Brunner was working through some stuff, and this book is a fascinating look into his mind.
Unfortunately for Brunner, he seems to have died with his internalized homophobia unresolved, as I could find no indication on the internet that he ever accepted himself enough to be with a man, or even stop marrying women. There is no indication, either, that he was in fact bisexual, and happened to fall in love with women. But now I am also curious to read some of his later stuff, to see whether he was still fixated on something he ostensibly didn't like.
There is so much homophobic/homoerotic content in this book, and I will be reviewing all of it. And even if he never came out publicly, I really hope that Brunner was able to accept himself privately (if you read this book, you will see how obvious his fascination really is). At least, in a way, it is good that he cannot potentially hurt anyone with his homophobic beliefs anymore...hopefully, I should say, with the fact of his writings living after him.
Saturday, December 17, 2016
Book Review: Romancing The Inventor by Gail Carriger
*Spoilers*
I had high hopes for this book, about steampunk Victorian lesbians. However, all I can truly say about it is that it is...somewhat entertaining--not that it's as spectacular as I had thought it would be. There was a lot of potential there, but not much payoff for what it could be. It was worth the four dollars I paid for it as an ebook, but I wouldn't bother paying fourteen dollars for the paperback, and I won't bother buying any other books by the same author any time soon.
The thing that bothered me most about this book was that, despite its title, Romancing The Inventor, the main character, Imogene the parlourmaid, does not actually do much to woo the inventor, Genevieve. She also does not do anything to save herself from the (male and female) vampires who want to rape and eat her. Nearly everything is done for her. The werewolves even unexpectedly save her towards the end--because they were called by the inventor!
For a long while, she doesn't even contradict Genevieve (the inventor--her name is much too similar to Imogene's own name) when she assumes Imogene is straight.
Imogene only once actually does something to woo Genevieve, literally stripping naked after Genevieve had saved her many times already. She is also satisfied with a one-night stand with the woman she's pining after, knowing that Genevieve could not love her. (Though I'm not sure how a lesbian in that world would know how to find other lesbians, so it almost makes sense for her to be satisfied with scraps of affection. But she does have an opportunity to go to London and work in a hat shop, so there is at least a possibility of the big city being more liberal and diverse. She does not take this opportunity, preferring to pine after Genevieve instead.)
The rest of the time, Imogene does nothing to flirt or seduce Genevieve. She does not wear low-cut dresses or lean over her work. She does not shake out her hair, or talk about "the sisterhood of women" and how wonderful it is. She does not even come out to her, for a while. All these things are cliche, but they are at least something.
Even the plan to woo Genevieve, towards the end of the story, is thought of by Genevieve's friend, Lady Maccon. Imogene simply goes along with the plan. And then, like magic, Genevieve changes her mind and decides that she can love again! And the catalyst for this is not shown; there is no one moment when she realizes what she is missing without Imogene.
Ultimately, this is not a story about an ambitious parlourmaid trying to find love and rise above her station, in spite of the obstacles in nineteenth-century Britain. This is about a parlourmaid who luckily makes friends in high places, through no effort of her own. It should have been about Genevieve, wrestling with her own demons. At least then, there would have been an internal conflict for the main character, and therefore more of a conflict for the story.
And at first, Genevieve woos Imogene, before pulling back emotionally from her. Imogene also has thoughts that indicate she is only just discovering her sexuality, even though she has known for a long time now that she likes women and not men. So the plot is confused about what it wants to be.
There was not much explanation about Lady Maccon, Genevieve's friend who married a werewolf. It was even brought up that she and her husband had a daughter, but that it was supposed to be impossible for werewolves and humans to interbreed. (At least, that is how I interpreted it, as it actually said, "Everyone knew that it was impossible for either werewolves or vampires to breed." How then do these beings come into existence in this world? Do humans become them by biting, or is there some other mechanism?) None of these questions are answered in this book.
There is even mention of the "risks" of trying to become an immortal vampire by being bitten by one. But there is no explanation of what these risks are. Characters act like being bitten by a vampire robs you of your soul or something, but I don't know what the side effects are, to being bitten but not killed. (And apparently, not becoming a vampire, either.) So as Imogene is about to be bitten by the vampire queen, I actually thought, "What's the big deal?" when it seemed that I was meant to be very anxious about that.
It was obvious that this book was meant to be merely a piece of the puzzle that is this story world. As soon as Lady Maccon and her werewolf husband were mentioned, I knew that that was just a tie-in to many other of Carriger's stories.
Genevieve even talks about her late partner, Angelique, dying and "going to ghost," which sounds like it may not necessarily be what I'm thinking of, depending on the mechanism for becoming a ghost in this world--which is not explained. There is also no appearance by the ghost of Angelique, if she indeed is a ghost. The author could have explored this in the story--in fact, it would have been interesting if Angelique had accused Genevieve of not truly loving her or their son, because she was thinking about moving on. Their son, Quesnel, is also mentioned--Genevieve even visits him--but he plays no part in the story at all. (All of these extra vampires and werewolves, and not one brief visit by Genevieve's ex or her son!)
So because it doesn't explain everything, or at least, the questions the story itself raises, this only does "okay" as a stand-alone story. It is not that great, standing on its own.
Something that is also unrealistic (admittedly, in a world of vampires and werewolves) is the fact that Imogene could not read, but was a genius at arithmetic. If she did not go to school because she comes from a poor country family, then how would she think to memorize sums? She would have to spend hours counting on her fingers, without any schooling, and it is unclear whether she knows how to write down numbers.
It is not even very likely that should would be illiterate, according to Wikipedia. ("Despite lacking a system of free and compulsory primary schooling, England managed to reach near universal literacy in the nineteenth century as a result of shared, informal learning systems such as family members, fellow workers, and/or benevolent employers, to name a few.") Interestingly enough, however, because she was a female of the lower classes, she may have been able to read, but unable to write. She would have been more likely able to write if she were male--there was a gap with the sexes at that time.
So it is unlikely she would not be able to read, but likely that she would not be able to write. And the story does not mention that most people know how to read, and she is one of the few that do not. Indeed, it seems to imply that it is common in her village, not to know how to read. She does not even know how to sign her name.
The subplot with her mother and "the littles," an unknown number of her younger siblings (of which we know nothing of sexes or ages, much less their characters), is suddenly dropped at the end, after she is saved by the werewolves. No mention is ever made of her mother or family again. We don't know how her mother would react, when she would find out about Imogene's proclivities or new relationship. She does not find out, in the book.
Her mother is nagging to her, and very proper, but I had the impression that she does love Imogene and want what's best for her. So I wanted to see that conversation. But like in Timekeeper by Tara Sim, it is not shown at all, or even told briefly.
I'm not sure it's worth your time, unless you were curious about it already. But I think you will be disappointed. The Kindle version, in this case, is the cheapest; don't buy paperback, because you can read Kindle books on your computer. Like I said before, I won't be buying anything else by this author unless I cannot find any good gay stories at all.
...With a possible exception of the first book in Carriger's Finishing School series--that one was already ordered and on the way when I started this one. It has a great premise--a girl learning, in school, how to be a proper lady and an excellent assassin--but then again, this book had a great premise, too...
We will see.
I had high hopes for this book, about steampunk Victorian lesbians. However, all I can truly say about it is that it is...somewhat entertaining--not that it's as spectacular as I had thought it would be. There was a lot of potential there, but not much payoff for what it could be. It was worth the four dollars I paid for it as an ebook, but I wouldn't bother paying fourteen dollars for the paperback, and I won't bother buying any other books by the same author any time soon.
The thing that bothered me most about this book was that, despite its title, Romancing The Inventor, the main character, Imogene the parlourmaid, does not actually do much to woo the inventor, Genevieve. She also does not do anything to save herself from the (male and female) vampires who want to rape and eat her. Nearly everything is done for her. The werewolves even unexpectedly save her towards the end--because they were called by the inventor!
For a long while, she doesn't even contradict Genevieve (the inventor--her name is much too similar to Imogene's own name) when she assumes Imogene is straight.
Imogene only once actually does something to woo Genevieve, literally stripping naked after Genevieve had saved her many times already. She is also satisfied with a one-night stand with the woman she's pining after, knowing that Genevieve could not love her. (Though I'm not sure how a lesbian in that world would know how to find other lesbians, so it almost makes sense for her to be satisfied with scraps of affection. But she does have an opportunity to go to London and work in a hat shop, so there is at least a possibility of the big city being more liberal and diverse. She does not take this opportunity, preferring to pine after Genevieve instead.)
The rest of the time, Imogene does nothing to flirt or seduce Genevieve. She does not wear low-cut dresses or lean over her work. She does not shake out her hair, or talk about "the sisterhood of women" and how wonderful it is. She does not even come out to her, for a while. All these things are cliche, but they are at least something.
Even the plan to woo Genevieve, towards the end of the story, is thought of by Genevieve's friend, Lady Maccon. Imogene simply goes along with the plan. And then, like magic, Genevieve changes her mind and decides that she can love again! And the catalyst for this is not shown; there is no one moment when she realizes what she is missing without Imogene.
Ultimately, this is not a story about an ambitious parlourmaid trying to find love and rise above her station, in spite of the obstacles in nineteenth-century Britain. This is about a parlourmaid who luckily makes friends in high places, through no effort of her own. It should have been about Genevieve, wrestling with her own demons. At least then, there would have been an internal conflict for the main character, and therefore more of a conflict for the story.
And at first, Genevieve woos Imogene, before pulling back emotionally from her. Imogene also has thoughts that indicate she is only just discovering her sexuality, even though she has known for a long time now that she likes women and not men. So the plot is confused about what it wants to be.
There was not much explanation about Lady Maccon, Genevieve's friend who married a werewolf. It was even brought up that she and her husband had a daughter, but that it was supposed to be impossible for werewolves and humans to interbreed. (At least, that is how I interpreted it, as it actually said, "Everyone knew that it was impossible for either werewolves or vampires to breed." How then do these beings come into existence in this world? Do humans become them by biting, or is there some other mechanism?) None of these questions are answered in this book.
There is even mention of the "risks" of trying to become an immortal vampire by being bitten by one. But there is no explanation of what these risks are. Characters act like being bitten by a vampire robs you of your soul or something, but I don't know what the side effects are, to being bitten but not killed. (And apparently, not becoming a vampire, either.) So as Imogene is about to be bitten by the vampire queen, I actually thought, "What's the big deal?" when it seemed that I was meant to be very anxious about that.
It was obvious that this book was meant to be merely a piece of the puzzle that is this story world. As soon as Lady Maccon and her werewolf husband were mentioned, I knew that that was just a tie-in to many other of Carriger's stories.
Genevieve even talks about her late partner, Angelique, dying and "going to ghost," which sounds like it may not necessarily be what I'm thinking of, depending on the mechanism for becoming a ghost in this world--which is not explained. There is also no appearance by the ghost of Angelique, if she indeed is a ghost. The author could have explored this in the story--in fact, it would have been interesting if Angelique had accused Genevieve of not truly loving her or their son, because she was thinking about moving on. Their son, Quesnel, is also mentioned--Genevieve even visits him--but he plays no part in the story at all. (All of these extra vampires and werewolves, and not one brief visit by Genevieve's ex or her son!)
So because it doesn't explain everything, or at least, the questions the story itself raises, this only does "okay" as a stand-alone story. It is not that great, standing on its own.
Something that is also unrealistic (admittedly, in a world of vampires and werewolves) is the fact that Imogene could not read, but was a genius at arithmetic. If she did not go to school because she comes from a poor country family, then how would she think to memorize sums? She would have to spend hours counting on her fingers, without any schooling, and it is unclear whether she knows how to write down numbers.
It is not even very likely that should would be illiterate, according to Wikipedia. ("Despite lacking a system of free and compulsory primary schooling, England managed to reach near universal literacy in the nineteenth century as a result of shared, informal learning systems such as family members, fellow workers, and/or benevolent employers, to name a few.") Interestingly enough, however, because she was a female of the lower classes, she may have been able to read, but unable to write. She would have been more likely able to write if she were male--there was a gap with the sexes at that time.
So it is unlikely she would not be able to read, but likely that she would not be able to write. And the story does not mention that most people know how to read, and she is one of the few that do not. Indeed, it seems to imply that it is common in her village, not to know how to read. She does not even know how to sign her name.
The subplot with her mother and "the littles," an unknown number of her younger siblings (of which we know nothing of sexes or ages, much less their characters), is suddenly dropped at the end, after she is saved by the werewolves. No mention is ever made of her mother or family again. We don't know how her mother would react, when she would find out about Imogene's proclivities or new relationship. She does not find out, in the book.
Her mother is nagging to her, and very proper, but I had the impression that she does love Imogene and want what's best for her. So I wanted to see that conversation. But like in Timekeeper by Tara Sim, it is not shown at all, or even told briefly.
I'm not sure it's worth your time, unless you were curious about it already. But I think you will be disappointed. The Kindle version, in this case, is the cheapest; don't buy paperback, because you can read Kindle books on your computer. Like I said before, I won't be buying anything else by this author unless I cannot find any good gay stories at all.
...With a possible exception of the first book in Carriger's Finishing School series--that one was already ordered and on the way when I started this one. It has a great premise--a girl learning, in school, how to be a proper lady and an excellent assassin--but then again, this book had a great premise, too...
We will see.
Book Review: Timekeeper by Tara Sim (4 of 4)--Killing Draco Malfoy And My Final Thoughts
*Spoilers*
This is a very cute little book...except for one thing which I do not like about it. There is a bully character, Lucas, who hates Danny for taking his spot as the youngest to be certified as a clock mechanic. He teases Danny mercilessly about being gay, and looks down on him for coming from a poorer background than he. His class snobbishness reminds me of Draco Malfoy, the bully from the Harry Potter series who looks down on those who don't come from prestigious magical families.
But imagine if, instead of giving Draco Malfoy a redemption arc, Rowling had instead killed him off, graphically, in the very first novel. Not only would it have been a needless death in a children's book, it would have thrown off the balance of the whole series. Harry's rivalry with Draco is one of the central conflicts in the story. Without Draco, it wouldn't have been as interesting.
Tara Sim killed off her Draco, by having him die of an explosion, embedding a clock gear into his chest as he choked on his own blood. (Yes, this is a Young Adult novel, people!)
Harry Potter had plenty of death, but Rowling didn't kill off a kid until the end of the fourth book. (Not counting the girl who became a ghost fifty years ago, that we meet in the second book. If they're ghosts, I don't think of it as a real death, so it's not so bad.) And there was way too much death in Harry Potter, anyway, in my opinion--it's a world full of wizards and magic, and Rowling didn't want to have everyone survive because that wouldn't be "realistic"?
Sim lost so much potential, here, by killing off the bully halfway through the first book. What would have happened, if Lucas had found out about Colton, his clock spirit boyfriend? Sim wasted an opportunity to use the phrase, "the cock of the clock" or "cock o' clock." Lucas's teasing would have been the perfect opportunity for Colton to comfort Danny. And since Lucas, like any other clock mechanic, can sense "time fibers," how would Colton use those fibers to take his revenge? If Lucas punches Colton in the face, what will happen to the clock face itself?
Like Draco Malfoy, this character was very much needed in this story. Voldemort may have been Harry's ultimate enemy, but Draco provided the everyday conflict. And his bullying tactics were brilliant, too, making me almost feel bad for laughing at them--singing "Weasely is our king," because Ron was so bad at magical sports that he let Draco's team win, and making magical flashing badges that say "Potter Stinks." As long as Sim didn't make Lucas overly homophobic and therefore truly hurtful, she really could have had fun with this character! Can you imagine how funny it would have been if Lucas had had a badge that flashed, "Danny Stinks"?
There is also no opportunity for Lucas to redeem himself in any way. What if Lucas was closeted all along, and that's why he picked on Danny? There are so many wasted opportunities, when killing the bully with clock cogs in the first book.
This was also the first time that the book switched to a perspective other than Danny's, so of course I thought, "As soon as we see other characters' points of view, they're going to die!" And when the book switched to a girl character who was somewhat like Lucas...she nearly did! She got somewhat of a redemption arc, though she had never really picked on Danny, to my knowledge, and she aided the bad guy out of ignorance, not evilness. She's obviously going to be a recurring character, though it's not the same as having a Malfoy, because she doesn't even pick on Danny and she's a somewhat sympathetic character.
The book became very predictable, in that aspect. And because it's the first in a trilogy, the whole series is going to be predictable in that way. It might have been nice to have other perspectives, and not have them get maimed or killed off, especially right away. But now we know what's going to happen, every time another character even has a thought of their own!
I would also like to know if the knowledge that towers do indeed have spirits, would affect the way that Danny repairs other towers. Is he assigned to repair other towers, during this time? The book doesn't say if he is.
If I knew the towers could understand me, I would explain, "Here is what I am going to do. Your gears need cleaning, and your minute hand is rusting, so first I'm going to..." And I would address the tower by name, since Colton is also the name of Colton Tower. I would explain who I was, why I was there, and that I would take care of them. Kind of like how I treat injured animals now.
I just finished this book, and overall...it was okay. I kept reading, because I wanted to find out what happened next, but it wasn't that exciting. The tension of the final climax went on and on, and I kept waiting for something definitive to happen. Eventually, it did, but I had already seen that mixing clock cogs and human blood did something to the time fibers, so I knew that that would figure into the story later. I wasn't sure how that enabled him to actually control time, though, and the book brought the question up, but left it unanswered for now.
And when Danny did finally defeat the surprise bad guy, save Colton, and get his dad back, all I could think was, "Yep, those are the loose ends that will set things up for the next book. Right on time." It was very formulaic. Danny also did not tell his dad about Colton, at the end of the book, and according to the timeline, his dad would not even know he was gay. But since the other characters, other than Lucas, hardly reacted to it, there's not much tension or suspense on that front.
I really didn't care about the subplots regarding Danny's trauma from an accident at work, and his relationship with his mother. Those subplots have been done to death, and I knew that they would be resolved in the end, anyway--so why have them there? It's like how many heroes in thrillers struggle with alcoholism. You know that they're either going to get or stay sober in the end, so why have it? It's a cliche now.
One thing that also bothered me was that Danny and his mother seemed poor at first, then at the end, she buys him a new car for Christmas. A new car! And all this time Danny is wearing an old, tight, worn suit to special occasions, and has a worn collar on the jacket he wears every day, and is made fun of by Lucas for not being "successful" enough! The story can't decide what socioeconomic class he is in!
I actually rolled my eyes when his friend Cassie, an auto mechanic, invents the seat beat, or "auto holster," after her brother dies in an accident. Because in a world where the Industrial Revolution happened hundreds of years before it happened in ours, no one thought to strap people in so that they don't fly out of cars and break their necks. I feel like this subplot was just there to give Cassie something "important" to do, since the seat belt later saves his life. (As if he would bother with it, when he's not even used to wearing it, and Colton's life is on the line!)
I was also a bit confused by the description of his first auto. It said that the roof leaked, but then it talked of him wearing goggles to drive the car. So does the thing have a windshield or not? I don't think it's one of those old-timey cars where the (paid) driver sits outside, since the book mentions him looking back at Colton--and how would his dad afford a car made for rich people, anyway? The closet description of the auto that I could surmise was that it had a roof, but no windshield--it simply was like an overhang, over the driver and passengers. But how then would it say that the roof leaked, and therefore the auto flooded? Wouldn't the auto flood just because the rain came in under the roof as it moved?
I still have no idea, to this day, what his auto is supposed to look like, or why it actually floods. It was a very confusing description. (But one part that made me laugh was that Danny, frustrated that it wouldn't start, reacted to a policeman's inquiry as, "Of it's mine! It's a piece of shit, isn't it?" This book was sure a potty-mouth, for something written for fourteen-year-olds!)
When the second installment in this series comes out, I will buy it and read it. But only out of curiosity, not because it's necessarily all that entertaining. It's worth reading, at least until the big climax, because it is interesting to see all of the Victorian characters not even care that Danny is gay. But, well...it could have been written much better. It had so much potential there, and it ultimately felt very wasted. The author could at least have given us flashbacks, so that we know what Danny's coming out was like.
This is a very cute little book...except for one thing which I do not like about it. There is a bully character, Lucas, who hates Danny for taking his spot as the youngest to be certified as a clock mechanic. He teases Danny mercilessly about being gay, and looks down on him for coming from a poorer background than he. His class snobbishness reminds me of Draco Malfoy, the bully from the Harry Potter series who looks down on those who don't come from prestigious magical families.
But imagine if, instead of giving Draco Malfoy a redemption arc, Rowling had instead killed him off, graphically, in the very first novel. Not only would it have been a needless death in a children's book, it would have thrown off the balance of the whole series. Harry's rivalry with Draco is one of the central conflicts in the story. Without Draco, it wouldn't have been as interesting.
Tara Sim killed off her Draco, by having him die of an explosion, embedding a clock gear into his chest as he choked on his own blood. (Yes, this is a Young Adult novel, people!)
Harry Potter had plenty of death, but Rowling didn't kill off a kid until the end of the fourth book. (Not counting the girl who became a ghost fifty years ago, that we meet in the second book. If they're ghosts, I don't think of it as a real death, so it's not so bad.) And there was way too much death in Harry Potter, anyway, in my opinion--it's a world full of wizards and magic, and Rowling didn't want to have everyone survive because that wouldn't be "realistic"?
Sim lost so much potential, here, by killing off the bully halfway through the first book. What would have happened, if Lucas had found out about Colton, his clock spirit boyfriend? Sim wasted an opportunity to use the phrase, "the cock of the clock" or "cock o' clock." Lucas's teasing would have been the perfect opportunity for Colton to comfort Danny. And since Lucas, like any other clock mechanic, can sense "time fibers," how would Colton use those fibers to take his revenge? If Lucas punches Colton in the face, what will happen to the clock face itself?
Like Draco Malfoy, this character was very much needed in this story. Voldemort may have been Harry's ultimate enemy, but Draco provided the everyday conflict. And his bullying tactics were brilliant, too, making me almost feel bad for laughing at them--singing "Weasely is our king," because Ron was so bad at magical sports that he let Draco's team win, and making magical flashing badges that say "Potter Stinks." As long as Sim didn't make Lucas overly homophobic and therefore truly hurtful, she really could have had fun with this character! Can you imagine how funny it would have been if Lucas had had a badge that flashed, "Danny Stinks"?
There is also no opportunity for Lucas to redeem himself in any way. What if Lucas was closeted all along, and that's why he picked on Danny? There are so many wasted opportunities, when killing the bully with clock cogs in the first book.
This was also the first time that the book switched to a perspective other than Danny's, so of course I thought, "As soon as we see other characters' points of view, they're going to die!" And when the book switched to a girl character who was somewhat like Lucas...she nearly did! She got somewhat of a redemption arc, though she had never really picked on Danny, to my knowledge, and she aided the bad guy out of ignorance, not evilness. She's obviously going to be a recurring character, though it's not the same as having a Malfoy, because she doesn't even pick on Danny and she's a somewhat sympathetic character.
The book became very predictable, in that aspect. And because it's the first in a trilogy, the whole series is going to be predictable in that way. It might have been nice to have other perspectives, and not have them get maimed or killed off, especially right away. But now we know what's going to happen, every time another character even has a thought of their own!
I would also like to know if the knowledge that towers do indeed have spirits, would affect the way that Danny repairs other towers. Is he assigned to repair other towers, during this time? The book doesn't say if he is.
If I knew the towers could understand me, I would explain, "Here is what I am going to do. Your gears need cleaning, and your minute hand is rusting, so first I'm going to..." And I would address the tower by name, since Colton is also the name of Colton Tower. I would explain who I was, why I was there, and that I would take care of them. Kind of like how I treat injured animals now.
I just finished this book, and overall...it was okay. I kept reading, because I wanted to find out what happened next, but it wasn't that exciting. The tension of the final climax went on and on, and I kept waiting for something definitive to happen. Eventually, it did, but I had already seen that mixing clock cogs and human blood did something to the time fibers, so I knew that that would figure into the story later. I wasn't sure how that enabled him to actually control time, though, and the book brought the question up, but left it unanswered for now.
And when Danny did finally defeat the surprise bad guy, save Colton, and get his dad back, all I could think was, "Yep, those are the loose ends that will set things up for the next book. Right on time." It was very formulaic. Danny also did not tell his dad about Colton, at the end of the book, and according to the timeline, his dad would not even know he was gay. But since the other characters, other than Lucas, hardly reacted to it, there's not much tension or suspense on that front.
I really didn't care about the subplots regarding Danny's trauma from an accident at work, and his relationship with his mother. Those subplots have been done to death, and I knew that they would be resolved in the end, anyway--so why have them there? It's like how many heroes in thrillers struggle with alcoholism. You know that they're either going to get or stay sober in the end, so why have it? It's a cliche now.
One thing that also bothered me was that Danny and his mother seemed poor at first, then at the end, she buys him a new car for Christmas. A new car! And all this time Danny is wearing an old, tight, worn suit to special occasions, and has a worn collar on the jacket he wears every day, and is made fun of by Lucas for not being "successful" enough! The story can't decide what socioeconomic class he is in!
I actually rolled my eyes when his friend Cassie, an auto mechanic, invents the seat beat, or "auto holster," after her brother dies in an accident. Because in a world where the Industrial Revolution happened hundreds of years before it happened in ours, no one thought to strap people in so that they don't fly out of cars and break their necks. I feel like this subplot was just there to give Cassie something "important" to do, since the seat belt later saves his life. (As if he would bother with it, when he's not even used to wearing it, and Colton's life is on the line!)
I was also a bit confused by the description of his first auto. It said that the roof leaked, but then it talked of him wearing goggles to drive the car. So does the thing have a windshield or not? I don't think it's one of those old-timey cars where the (paid) driver sits outside, since the book mentions him looking back at Colton--and how would his dad afford a car made for rich people, anyway? The closet description of the auto that I could surmise was that it had a roof, but no windshield--it simply was like an overhang, over the driver and passengers. But how then would it say that the roof leaked, and therefore the auto flooded? Wouldn't the auto flood just because the rain came in under the roof as it moved?
I still have no idea, to this day, what his auto is supposed to look like, or why it actually floods. It was a very confusing description. (But one part that made me laugh was that Danny, frustrated that it wouldn't start, reacted to a policeman's inquiry as, "Of it's mine! It's a piece of shit, isn't it?" This book was sure a potty-mouth, for something written for fourteen-year-olds!)
When the second installment in this series comes out, I will buy it and read it. But only out of curiosity, not because it's necessarily all that entertaining. It's worth reading, at least until the big climax, because it is interesting to see all of the Victorian characters not even care that Danny is gay. But, well...it could have been written much better. It had so much potential there, and it ultimately felt very wasted. The author could at least have given us flashbacks, so that we know what Danny's coming out was like.
Book Review: Timekeeper by Tara Sim (3 of ?)--A Clock's Sexuality
Some of my reviews do not have spoilers, but this one does.
This is the tale of Danny, the boy who fell in love with a clock. Danny finds out that the boy he is falling in love with, is actually a "clock spirit," the spirit of the clock tower in a small town.
They strike up a friendship, even though the spirit, Colton, cannot leave his tower. When he had thought the boy was a human, Danny had told him the tale of Rapunzel, a princess trapped in her own tower. After Danny learns the truth, Colton kisses him.
He later explains, "It sounded nice in the fairy tales, so I thought it would be nice to kiss you."
Danny is gay, and everyone in his life knows it and doesn't care--in a world very much like our Victorian England. (But not in this way.) I've often wondered if there were other kinds of LGBT people in this world (I would love to see how this world that is largely indifferent to gay people would feel about transgender people, for example), and I believe I have found another kind of LGBT person:
It took considerable courage for Danny to ask, "Have you ever kissed anyone before me?"
Colton thought, then shook his head. "I don't think so. I've thought about it, though. There used to be a girl down the street who was very pretty. But that was a long time ago."
I never thought I would read a story about a bisexual clock tower! That is an interesting way to get some sexual diversity in your novel!
Danny, who had anticipated this answer, took a moment to reorganize his thoughts. So you would have kissed me if I was a girl?"
"I would have kissed you if you were a girl. I would have kissed you if you were purple."
Oh, well excuse the hell out of me, then! :) It's a pansexual clock tower! :)
I think it is very sweet, the way Colton falls in love with Danny, apparently, because of his good heart and his gentle hands. (When repairing the clock tower itself--you had a dirty mind, didn't you?)
I hope they meet some transgender people in this series. Some of the clock spirits are female, though I don't know of any that go from one thing to another, or are sometimes one thing and sometimes another.
I hate to say this, but...it would more interesting if they talked about having sex. The cover says that the book is for "ages 14 and up," so if the seventeen-year-old character and his ageless boyfriend decided that they weren't ready yet, that would send a positive message to kids about it being okay to wait until they're ready or older. It would also let them know that people they date shouldn't pressure them to do things they don't want to.
I'm about halfway through the book, and Danny and Colton's relationship is getting serious, so it would make sense for Colton to say that he feels strange and wonderful in his body when with Danny, and that he wants to do something very special with him. And since Colton is a clock tower and wouldn't know about human sexuality (or his own sexuality, since he's not really human), Danny can explain what people in love sometimes do together. They can then decide together if they want to do anything, and if so, what to do and when. I must admit that I am a little curious to see what happens if a clock tower has a climax, since Colton did make his bells go off once by laughing too hard as he and Danny played hide and go seek.
There are already indications of Danny's desire, such as their passionate kissing, and one moment where he wanted to "wrap his body around Colton." A friend also asks Danny if Colton is "into the weird stuff" when he expresses doubts about whether they should be together.
(This part added to the draft after I read some more of the book):
I explained that I didn't think that a clock tower would know anything about human sexuality, but apparently, I was wrong! Colton, the tower spirit, is jealous because he saw another boy kissing Danny, when Danny was drunk.
"Why don't you kiss me like that?" he demands. Danny said that he "didn't know how." I'm not sure how Danny would not know how to passionately kiss someone. There didn't seem to be anything else going on between him and the other boy.
Colton thinks for a moment, then says,"I've seen it often enough," which, when combined with what happens next, makes me wonder if people are doing sexual acts outdoors all the time in this small town.
Colton and Danny start kissing passionately, falling onto the ground. Then Colton "reached his hand into Danny's trousers." (This book is ages 14 and up, according to the cover jacket. That is rather interesting.) It becomes rather vague at this point, only saying that Danny could think of nothing but Colton's lips and his hand, and, "Oh, god, his hand!"
I assume they don't want to use the words "wrapped around his penis," in a kids' novel, but that's certainly implied. I'm not sure how this is less sexual than mentioning actual sexual parts.
This brings up so many questions: How does Colton know what Danny has in his pants, and that it brings pleasure and isn't just for peeing? He would surely see men, and occasionally women, peeing outdoors, but what did he see to educate him on other things?
What does Colton have in his own pants, being a clock tower and a spirit? If the pendulum of the tower itself are his lungs, and the central cog is his heart, then what is his you-know-what, and what would it even be useful for--making little baby clock towers? Do clock towers pee? Perhaps rain water is the clock tower's pee--but then if he had gargoyles, his pee-pee would be on his head. And if he had gutters, he would have two or more pee-pees on his feet.
I have been wondering, anyway, why he wears a very loose shirt, when he is a clock spirit and, unless his tower is very top-heavy and uneven (as if that is safe!), his shirt should be as tight as his pants--to my mind, at least. I've also been very curious as to what would happen if a spirit were wearing eyeglasses--what sort of wire contraption on the clock face would correspond to eyeglasses? And why do clock spirits have ears? Why do they have tongues, for that matter?
So Colton and Danny start to...fool around. We don't get to know what happens if a clock tower has a sexual climax, however. As he begins to manually stimulate Danny, Danny notices that the hands on the clock face are going round at an alarming rate, as days and nights go by in a blur. Danny makes him stop, and Colton has to concentrate very hard in order to bring time back into proper balance.
So depending on your perspective, they either did have sex, or they tried to. I'm sure Danny would have stimulated Colton, after his "turn," but I'm not sure it counts if one person starts to be stimulated, but they must stop. And if this is how Colton reacts, when only doing things to Danny, how would he react, if Danny was doing things to him?
There are so many questions that make me morbidly curious, but that aren't answered in this first book. And since it came out in 2016, I assume that it will be a few years before we understand the logic of a clock tower's anatomy and sexuality--if we do at all.
This is the tale of Danny, the boy who fell in love with a clock. Danny finds out that the boy he is falling in love with, is actually a "clock spirit," the spirit of the clock tower in a small town.
They strike up a friendship, even though the spirit, Colton, cannot leave his tower. When he had thought the boy was a human, Danny had told him the tale of Rapunzel, a princess trapped in her own tower. After Danny learns the truth, Colton kisses him.
He later explains, "It sounded nice in the fairy tales, so I thought it would be nice to kiss you."
Danny is gay, and everyone in his life knows it and doesn't care--in a world very much like our Victorian England. (But not in this way.) I've often wondered if there were other kinds of LGBT people in this world (I would love to see how this world that is largely indifferent to gay people would feel about transgender people, for example), and I believe I have found another kind of LGBT person:
It took considerable courage for Danny to ask, "Have you ever kissed anyone before me?"
Colton thought, then shook his head. "I don't think so. I've thought about it, though. There used to be a girl down the street who was very pretty. But that was a long time ago."
I never thought I would read a story about a bisexual clock tower! That is an interesting way to get some sexual diversity in your novel!
Danny, who had anticipated this answer, took a moment to reorganize his thoughts. So you would have kissed me if I was a girl?"
"I would have kissed you if you were a girl. I would have kissed you if you were purple."
Oh, well excuse the hell out of me, then! :) It's a pansexual clock tower! :)
I think it is very sweet, the way Colton falls in love with Danny, apparently, because of his good heart and his gentle hands. (When repairing the clock tower itself--you had a dirty mind, didn't you?)
I hope they meet some transgender people in this series. Some of the clock spirits are female, though I don't know of any that go from one thing to another, or are sometimes one thing and sometimes another.
I hate to say this, but...it would more interesting if they talked about having sex. The cover says that the book is for "ages 14 and up," so if the seventeen-year-old character and his ageless boyfriend decided that they weren't ready yet, that would send a positive message to kids about it being okay to wait until they're ready or older. It would also let them know that people they date shouldn't pressure them to do things they don't want to.
I'm about halfway through the book, and Danny and Colton's relationship is getting serious, so it would make sense for Colton to say that he feels strange and wonderful in his body when with Danny, and that he wants to do something very special with him. And since Colton is a clock tower and wouldn't know about human sexuality (or his own sexuality, since he's not really human), Danny can explain what people in love sometimes do together. They can then decide together if they want to do anything, and if so, what to do and when. I must admit that I am a little curious to see what happens if a clock tower has a climax, since Colton did make his bells go off once by laughing too hard as he and Danny played hide and go seek.
There are already indications of Danny's desire, such as their passionate kissing, and one moment where he wanted to "wrap his body around Colton." A friend also asks Danny if Colton is "into the weird stuff" when he expresses doubts about whether they should be together.
(This part added to the draft after I read some more of the book):
I explained that I didn't think that a clock tower would know anything about human sexuality, but apparently, I was wrong! Colton, the tower spirit, is jealous because he saw another boy kissing Danny, when Danny was drunk.
"Why don't you kiss me like that?" he demands. Danny said that he "didn't know how." I'm not sure how Danny would not know how to passionately kiss someone. There didn't seem to be anything else going on between him and the other boy.
Colton thinks for a moment, then says,"I've seen it often enough," which, when combined with what happens next, makes me wonder if people are doing sexual acts outdoors all the time in this small town.
Colton and Danny start kissing passionately, falling onto the ground. Then Colton "reached his hand into Danny's trousers." (This book is ages 14 and up, according to the cover jacket. That is rather interesting.) It becomes rather vague at this point, only saying that Danny could think of nothing but Colton's lips and his hand, and, "Oh, god, his hand!"
I assume they don't want to use the words "wrapped around his penis," in a kids' novel, but that's certainly implied. I'm not sure how this is less sexual than mentioning actual sexual parts.
This brings up so many questions: How does Colton know what Danny has in his pants, and that it brings pleasure and isn't just for peeing? He would surely see men, and occasionally women, peeing outdoors, but what did he see to educate him on other things?
What does Colton have in his own pants, being a clock tower and a spirit? If the pendulum of the tower itself are his lungs, and the central cog is his heart, then what is his you-know-what, and what would it even be useful for--making little baby clock towers? Do clock towers pee? Perhaps rain water is the clock tower's pee--but then if he had gargoyles, his pee-pee would be on his head. And if he had gutters, he would have two or more pee-pees on his feet.
I have been wondering, anyway, why he wears a very loose shirt, when he is a clock spirit and, unless his tower is very top-heavy and uneven (as if that is safe!), his shirt should be as tight as his pants--to my mind, at least. I've also been very curious as to what would happen if a spirit were wearing eyeglasses--what sort of wire contraption on the clock face would correspond to eyeglasses? And why do clock spirits have ears? Why do they have tongues, for that matter?
So Colton and Danny start to...fool around. We don't get to know what happens if a clock tower has a sexual climax, however. As he begins to manually stimulate Danny, Danny notices that the hands on the clock face are going round at an alarming rate, as days and nights go by in a blur. Danny makes him stop, and Colton has to concentrate very hard in order to bring time back into proper balance.
So depending on your perspective, they either did have sex, or they tried to. I'm sure Danny would have stimulated Colton, after his "turn," but I'm not sure it counts if one person starts to be stimulated, but they must stop. And if this is how Colton reacts, when only doing things to Danny, how would he react, if Danny was doing things to him?
There are so many questions that make me morbidly curious, but that aren't answered in this first book. And since it came out in 2016, I assume that it will be a few years before we understand the logic of a clock tower's anatomy and sexuality--if we do at all.
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Book Review: Timekeeper by Tara Sim (2 of ?)--No Spoilers Review, And Something Interesting
I'm reading Timekeeper by Tara Sim, about a clock mechanic in a world kind of like Victorian London, but where the fabric of time itself is controlled by the clock towers; they don't just measure time, they keep time itself running.
One thing that is interesting about the main character, Danny, is that at the start of the story, he had already told everyone in his life, months ago, that he preferred boys over girls. He is only seventeen, in 1875, and he told everyone. And the text even says that "most people treated him the same as before."
There's a problem with this story, though--I want to see those conversations! What is it like in a Victorian society in which homosexuality, at least in London, is no big deal? How does coming out go, in this world?
One little thing that just amazed me was an exchange between Danny and his mentor at work, Matthias. Matthias teased Danny, saying that with the way he looked, he must be smitten with someone. Danny, a little embarrassed, confirmed that yes, that was the case.
"You'll have to tell me all about her. Rather, him," Matthias amended with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget."
He forgot that Danny was gay! In what world does that happen? In ours, no one would forget, no matter how little it upset them, unless they had dementia or some other problems.
Even my 86-year-old grandfather (without dementia) now says "someone" instead of "husband" when talking about my future spouse, though I only used the phrase, "husband or wife" just once! He forgets a lot of things about my life, but I use a phrase one time that indirectly indicates that I'm bisexual, and it seems that he remembers that! And I have never even had a girlfriend, much less both a girlfriend and a boyfriend in succession.
It sounds like this society is a lot more advanced than ours, in a way. There is no gay marriage, as far as I can tell (though a wedding was described briefly in gender-neutral terms: "I have wanted those two to get together since they were children.")
In this world, the death penalty for homosexual acts was just repealed one decade before, and people in smaller towns tend to be more conservative (just like our world, or how people say our world is, though my mom and I have held hands in small towns and not been harassed as a "gay couple," unlike in "liberal" Eugene, Oregon, the biggest city around me).
And yet "in London, people regarded it with barely a 'good heavens!'" The people who think it "unnatural" (the word "immoral" is not used in this book) are referenced only indirectly and briefly. Danny's mother wants grandchildren and wants him to marry her friend's daughter, but does not say much overall about it. I wish I knew more about what she had initially said, but the story starts months after he came out.
This is why a lot of people say "Show, don't tell" when talking about writing stories. The author does not even do flashbacks, and I really wish she had. Or better yet, incorporate his coming out into the story, because it would really work well with what I mentioned about his new boyfriend in the last post (spoilers).
The author has a brief guide for the story world in the back of the book, where she says, "With the number of secrets he keeps close to his chest, I didn't want this important, fundamental part of him to be a secret as well."
But it doesn't have to be a secret for long in this story! If she wanted to, Sim could have put his coming out towards the beginning, or even opened with it. She could even do flashbacks. Just please, give us something!
I guess the moral here is, if your story world differs from our world in a significant way, then show it. Let your readers see what an ideal world looks like, what a dystopian world looks like, how a supportive, or bad, or even a comical character reacts to your situations and people. How is your world different from the one we all know? Show the difference--don't tell it. Your readers will want to see it, anyway.
One thing that is interesting about the main character, Danny, is that at the start of the story, he had already told everyone in his life, months ago, that he preferred boys over girls. He is only seventeen, in 1875, and he told everyone. And the text even says that "most people treated him the same as before."
There's a problem with this story, though--I want to see those conversations! What is it like in a Victorian society in which homosexuality, at least in London, is no big deal? How does coming out go, in this world?
One little thing that just amazed me was an exchange between Danny and his mentor at work, Matthias. Matthias teased Danny, saying that with the way he looked, he must be smitten with someone. Danny, a little embarrassed, confirmed that yes, that was the case.
"You'll have to tell me all about her. Rather, him," Matthias amended with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget."
He forgot that Danny was gay! In what world does that happen? In ours, no one would forget, no matter how little it upset them, unless they had dementia or some other problems.
Even my 86-year-old grandfather (without dementia) now says "someone" instead of "husband" when talking about my future spouse, though I only used the phrase, "husband or wife" just once! He forgets a lot of things about my life, but I use a phrase one time that indirectly indicates that I'm bisexual, and it seems that he remembers that! And I have never even had a girlfriend, much less both a girlfriend and a boyfriend in succession.
It sounds like this society is a lot more advanced than ours, in a way. There is no gay marriage, as far as I can tell (though a wedding was described briefly in gender-neutral terms: "I have wanted those two to get together since they were children.")
In this world, the death penalty for homosexual acts was just repealed one decade before, and people in smaller towns tend to be more conservative (just like our world, or how people say our world is, though my mom and I have held hands in small towns and not been harassed as a "gay couple," unlike in "liberal" Eugene, Oregon, the biggest city around me).
And yet "in London, people regarded it with barely a 'good heavens!'" The people who think it "unnatural" (the word "immoral" is not used in this book) are referenced only indirectly and briefly. Danny's mother wants grandchildren and wants him to marry her friend's daughter, but does not say much overall about it. I wish I knew more about what she had initially said, but the story starts months after he came out.
This is why a lot of people say "Show, don't tell" when talking about writing stories. The author does not even do flashbacks, and I really wish she had. Or better yet, incorporate his coming out into the story, because it would really work well with what I mentioned about his new boyfriend in the last post (spoilers).
The author has a brief guide for the story world in the back of the book, where she says, "With the number of secrets he keeps close to his chest, I didn't want this important, fundamental part of him to be a secret as well."
But it doesn't have to be a secret for long in this story! If she wanted to, Sim could have put his coming out towards the beginning, or even opened with it. She could even do flashbacks. Just please, give us something!
I guess the moral here is, if your story world differs from our world in a significant way, then show it. Let your readers see what an ideal world looks like, what a dystopian world looks like, how a supportive, or bad, or even a comical character reacts to your situations and people. How is your world different from the one we all know? Show the difference--don't tell it. Your readers will want to see it, anyway.
Sunday, December 11, 2016
Book Review: Timekeeper by Tara Sim (1of ?): Is Danny Homosexual, Or Chronosexual?
A great fantasy book about young gay romance: Spoilers for Timekeeper by Tara Sim. (In other words, don't read this one, Mom.)
I'm only about a quarter into the book. It takes place in an alternative Victorian England, where time itself is controlled by the clock towers, and if they break, everything stops and the city is lost forever on a loop. Very interesting.
Danny, a clock tower mechanic, falls in love with a boy he later learns is a clock spirit. He is falling in love with the clock tower itself! It is neat, how the author has the spirit's, Colton's, hand shriveled up when the minute hand is bent, etc. Then he is whole again when Danny fixes him.
But I wish that the story hadn't said before this, that Danny knew he liked other boys, and had told the people in his life. I would have loved to see the mystery of, "Am I in love with Colton because he's a boy, or because he's a clock?" In other words, is Danny chronosexual? (How do you like the word I invented?)
He has a friend who's a girl, so that's perfect. He would plan to marry the girl someday, because he already loves her in a way, though he doesn't understand what all the fuss is about romance. Then he's in denial for a bit, wondering why the spirit of the clock would manifest to him as a boy! And finally, he accepts himself, and his clock boyfriend.
I really like how bits of clock mythology, with Chronos the Time-God and his four children, are strewn in between chapters. It really sets up the world and the mindset of the clock mechanics and the people, even though this world seems, for the most part, the same as our modern notions of Victorian England. Two exceptions are that it is more technologically advanced in this world, and that women and girls are also clock mechanics--and auto mechanics!
I thought the addition of steam-powered autos to that world was rather cool. It reminded me of reading about Nazi-occupied France (years ago, source unavailable), where some cars were powered with steam and burned wood instead of fuel, because fuel was unavailable. (I've often wondered if that were not a better option than burning fossil fuels, though I'm not sure our current forests could take it. Perhaps a combination would be ideal, whether in the same auto or in autos as a whole?)
I kind of know where this story is going, as it is. At some point, someone is going to remove Colton's central cog--his heart--and Danny will have to bring him back to life, but there will be complications standing in his way, and he will be devastated, thinking that he's going to lose Colton. Maybe there won't be another cog available, or Danny will be kidnapped or something. That is what I predict will happen.
Also, you know that Danny is going to have a showdown with a villain in the tower, and just when all hope is lost, the tower itself will fight for him, striking the bad guy with numerals and stuff. That is also what I predict will happen.
This is the first in a trilogy, and unfortunately this book "came out" in 2016, so I'll probably have to wait two years at least for the next installment. So my predictions are long-term rather than short-term; if these things don't happen in this book, I think they will happen in the next two.
I find myself skipping parts of it, to get to what I really want to know about Colton and Danny, but I really like this series. Gay Steampunk stories seem to be really "in" right now, and I love it! These stories, well...they mean a lot to me right now, because I am currently writing my own story with LGBT characters and elements of fantasy in the "real" world. Someday I may even do Steampunk. And now I have inspiration.
Sunday, December 4, 2016
LGBT/Book Review: Legally Blonde (Epilogue): My Thoughts About The Author
I was very critical of the Legally Blonde novel, twice, because it is not nearly as great as the movie. But then I remembered one of author Amanda Brown's characters, Larry, was a pretty decent poet. And as far as I could tell, they were also her original poems. I'm not very much interested in poetry, and the love poems are of course a little sappy for my taste.
But I thought it interesting that a good poet could write a crappy novel, that got made into an amazing movie...which had nothing at all to do with her poetry. (I could not find the lines again in the book, and I'm not about to read that trash again, but I do remember something about "a stolen kiss, a little theft," and little sips and sweet breath. Decent enough--some people would like it.)
I also was very harsh on the author for having a book full of paper-thin stereotypes, while the feminist was not a lesbian and the author's fabulous blonde did not have a gay best friend to tell her how fabulous she is. All of her characters are white, straight, cisgender, able-bodied, rich, and extremely boring. I could easily see the author being homophobic. Never has the absence of a Z-snap been so loud.
But then I did some digging, about Amanda Brown's poetry, and came across something called Freedom For Equality. Here is a line from it:
But now its time to stand up and fight
To let everyone know
That being gay is alright
I'm not sure I'm crazy about the rhyming, or the obviousness of it all, but that is a message I can get behind 100%. Apparently, the author of Legally Blonde was not homophobic, after all!
But then I found out that there are two Amanda Brown's. The Equality one is ten years younger than the Blonde one, and has a different birthday. I also could not find any of the Blonde one's poetry on the internet, in spite of having a nice sample of it in her otherwise horrible book.
So the Blonde Amanda Brown looks even worse now, in comparison to the Equality Amanda Brown. Blonde Amanda, you are not looking very good in my book. The other one may not be as flowery in her descriptions of love, but she stands up for ALL love, and that is beautiful in and of itself.
There is a time to speak plainly, and a time to speak in flowery metaphors. There are subjects in which one should speak plainly, too.
To make my own metaphor, it doesn't matter how pretty your singing voice is, if you are singing for admiration, and the person next to you is singing for their freedom or that of others.
I was feeling a little bad about being mean to a real person with feelings, but I'm not so sure she's a very good person anymore.
I never thought Amanda Brown could disappoint me even more. Or that the missing Z-snap could ring even louder.
But I thought it interesting that a good poet could write a crappy novel, that got made into an amazing movie...which had nothing at all to do with her poetry. (I could not find the lines again in the book, and I'm not about to read that trash again, but I do remember something about "a stolen kiss, a little theft," and little sips and sweet breath. Decent enough--some people would like it.)
I also was very harsh on the author for having a book full of paper-thin stereotypes, while the feminist was not a lesbian and the author's fabulous blonde did not have a gay best friend to tell her how fabulous she is. All of her characters are white, straight, cisgender, able-bodied, rich, and extremely boring. I could easily see the author being homophobic. Never has the absence of a Z-snap been so loud.
But then I did some digging, about Amanda Brown's poetry, and came across something called Freedom For Equality. Here is a line from it:
But now its time to stand up and fight
To let everyone know
That being gay is alright
I'm not sure I'm crazy about the rhyming, or the obviousness of it all, but that is a message I can get behind 100%. Apparently, the author of Legally Blonde was not homophobic, after all!
But then I found out that there are two Amanda Brown's. The Equality one is ten years younger than the Blonde one, and has a different birthday. I also could not find any of the Blonde one's poetry on the internet, in spite of having a nice sample of it in her otherwise horrible book.
So the Blonde Amanda Brown looks even worse now, in comparison to the Equality Amanda Brown. Blonde Amanda, you are not looking very good in my book. The other one may not be as flowery in her descriptions of love, but she stands up for ALL love, and that is beautiful in and of itself.
There is a time to speak plainly, and a time to speak in flowery metaphors. There are subjects in which one should speak plainly, too.
To make my own metaphor, it doesn't matter how pretty your singing voice is, if you are singing for admiration, and the person next to you is singing for their freedom or that of others.
I was feeling a little bad about being mean to a real person with feelings, but I'm not so sure she's a very good person anymore.
I never thought Amanda Brown could disappoint me even more. Or that the missing Z-snap could ring even louder.
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Book Review: Legally Blonde (Part 2 of 2)--Only Straight, White Stereotypes Need Apply
(Here is Part 1)
In Legally Blonde by Amanda Brown, Elle Woods' classmates are a bunch of one-dimensional stereotypes, and that is all there is to them.
There is the feminist stereotype, trying to change people's word usage. There are two hippies, with their sprout and tofu sandwiches. There is the bookworm girl.
There are the Trekkies, who of course are smart in their classes and socially clueless. At first, she is picked on by them, in a reversal of how it was in high school for her. That could have been interesting, but it went absolutely nowhere. She also learns nothing from it, and the head Trekkie even sends her cookies for Valentine's Day. Because of course he wants her, even though she wouldn't give him the time of day!
(About Valentine's Day--one thing I thought was strange, was that everyone seemed to dress up in festive clothes on all the holidays. Do people do that in California, where it's set? Most don't do that in Oregon, where I live.)
I don't even know why the author chose to give all of these people names, for how little they impact the story. I remember forgetting all about them, then wondering who was Larry, who was Sidney, etc, when they were mentioned later.
For a book about how the snooty students at Stanford underestimate Elle because they stereotype her, Elle seems to be doing a whole lot of stereotyping, herself.
They don't impact her story at all, because she doesn't get to know them at all. She becomes friends with only one of them, Eugenia, who literally does nothing but tell her how great she is and how she's smarter than Eugenia. (And that job could have easily been handed off to a gay best friend, who would have made the story marginally more interesting.)
I get the impression that the author based her stereocharacters on people she really encountered at school. But we don't get to know them at all. So how well did she really know them? They are nothing but stereotypes to us, because they were nothing but stereotypes to her.
There is one small "surprise" in the story, in that "Larry," just another forgettable character, turns out to be her secret admirer, who writes poetry to her and helps her by giving her class outlines that I assume literally any college student could have gotten for themselves. Don't they give these out at the beginning of the class, anyway? They sure did at my community college! So I assume they would do the same at an Ivy League school. I'm sure there is also a place online where she can look it all up. It really doesn't do anything at all to show that she's smart, or that he's helpful and clever.
I'm also not sure why Elle is so surprised that Larry writes poetry, because she had to have known that one of her classmates...was writing poetry! There is nothing where she thinks that it couldn't possibly be him, no scene where she even wonders who it might be (as if love poetry just shows up in her mailbox because that's how the universe works). Her admirer is not even revealed to be a woman, because that would both be an interesting twist, and would give representation to an LGBT person. It couldn't even be Eugenia.
And of course the pretty, popular girl has a secret admirer and gets an apartment filled with flowers on Valentine's day. Does this happen at your school, much less at college?
And of course, the secret poetry writer is secretly in love with her, even though they've spent absolutely no time together, and he confesses his love to her. But that, too, goes nowhere! She doesn't return his love, and she doesn't have to let him down easily or fend him off because he's become a stalker. He confesses his love, and she doesn't even really reply to him, just gets in her car and drives off. I've actually quite forgotten what happens--because nothing happened! And we never see Larry again! I remember thinking that this should be an interesting scene, but it's not.
There are so many paper-thin stereotypes that weren't even filler, because they didn't do their job of filling up pages. The book even describes what conversations she overheard while waiting in line to purchase her books. And the conversations have no bearing on her or the plot at all. They're just the typical conversations one overhears while out and about--nothing interesting or special at all!
But there is one stereotype whose absence is really felt, in a book about stereotypes and fabulous blondes. You can probably guess who I'm talking about. Elle Woods has no Gay Best Friend (TM). Never has the absence of a Z-snap been so loud.
There are male hairdressers, however that in itself is not representation, and they don't play much of a role in the story at all.
I thought that perhaps it was a Young Adult book, and that YA books were squeamish about LGBT people. But I found nothing on the cover to indicate that it was a YA book, no mention of the author even writing YA books.
There are also scenes in which Elle "leaned forward seductively," and said that she wanted to keep her and Warner's celebration "going all night long." She thinks about nights spent in his arms. So even though it's rather tastefully done, it's very plain that she has premarital sex, plans and all but asks for sex, and is never sorry about any of it! And they sexualize LGBT people! Double standard, much?
I thought perhaps that the author was homophobic, but she has male hairdressers and never mentions their wives or girlfriends. (And don't bother wondering--they don't even say anything, or touch Elle's hair, so they're not worth your time, either.) She had to have known what she was implying. And again, she's perfectly okay with premarital sex among her characters, so she apparently isn't religious.
She could have easily made the feminist stereotype a lesbian, too--that's another stereotype, which she apparently likes. But the character's sexuality is not mentioned, and Elle doesn't even think about it.
The movie does a better job of including gay characters, even though the three (two?) characters explicitly stated to be gay are walking stereotypes. I wondered if there were two, because a stereotypical male hairdresser makes an appearance to remark on the "bend-and-snap" technique. (Another thing missing from the book, along with the subplot about the manicurist having a crush on the UPS guy.) He may not be gay in the movie's canon, but he's definitely coded gay. Come to think of it, both the poolboy and his boyfriend might be bisexual, even though Elle assumes the poolboy is gay. Regardless, the film does portray at least two LGBT characters, which is two more than the book.
And speaking of lack of diversity, all of the students, in both her schools, are all white, straight, cisgender, able-bodied, and come from wealthy, upper-class backgrounds. No one is described to be otherwise. And even they don't take Elle's dream of starting the Blonde Legal Defense Fund seriously. (That's book-only, thank goodness.)
As a blonde, let me say--Elle, please stop! Even if there is anti-blonde discrimination, it is not systemic, not pervasive, and in some places, being a blonde might actually help get you a job (Fox News, for example, though apparently there is also a problem of sexual harassment at that company--something brunettes go through too). There is also the little detail that, unless one dyes their hair, most blondes are white. I am afraid that fighting for the rights of blondes makes a mockery of other fights for equality.
It is also quite clear that Elle is a very wealthy young woman. She does not think once about the cost of tuition to an Ivy League school, her own private, pet-friendly apartment off-campus, or about paying off her years at state college. She "had to trade in her BMW for a Beemer." (Boo-hoo, poor little rich girl.) I'll bet it wasn't a used Beemer, either. She also has designer luggage and clothes, and the descriptions of her clothing made me think that she had quite a lot of clothes. She apparently brought evening clothes to college with her, and apparently has Halloween costumes and a special outfit, covered in hearts, that she only wears on Valentine's Day. That's an awful lot of waste, right there--of time, money, space, etc. Kind of like the book itself.
In Legally Blonde by Amanda Brown, Elle Woods' classmates are a bunch of one-dimensional stereotypes, and that is all there is to them.
There is the feminist stereotype, trying to change people's word usage. There are two hippies, with their sprout and tofu sandwiches. There is the bookworm girl.
There are the Trekkies, who of course are smart in their classes and socially clueless. At first, she is picked on by them, in a reversal of how it was in high school for her. That could have been interesting, but it went absolutely nowhere. She also learns nothing from it, and the head Trekkie even sends her cookies for Valentine's Day. Because of course he wants her, even though she wouldn't give him the time of day!
(About Valentine's Day--one thing I thought was strange, was that everyone seemed to dress up in festive clothes on all the holidays. Do people do that in California, where it's set? Most don't do that in Oregon, where I live.)
I don't even know why the author chose to give all of these people names, for how little they impact the story. I remember forgetting all about them, then wondering who was Larry, who was Sidney, etc, when they were mentioned later.
For a book about how the snooty students at Stanford underestimate Elle because they stereotype her, Elle seems to be doing a whole lot of stereotyping, herself.
They don't impact her story at all, because she doesn't get to know them at all. She becomes friends with only one of them, Eugenia, who literally does nothing but tell her how great she is and how she's smarter than Eugenia. (And that job could have easily been handed off to a gay best friend, who would have made the story marginally more interesting.)
I get the impression that the author based her stereocharacters on people she really encountered at school. But we don't get to know them at all. So how well did she really know them? They are nothing but stereotypes to us, because they were nothing but stereotypes to her.
There is one small "surprise" in the story, in that "Larry," just another forgettable character, turns out to be her secret admirer, who writes poetry to her and helps her by giving her class outlines that I assume literally any college student could have gotten for themselves. Don't they give these out at the beginning of the class, anyway? They sure did at my community college! So I assume they would do the same at an Ivy League school. I'm sure there is also a place online where she can look it all up. It really doesn't do anything at all to show that she's smart, or that he's helpful and clever.
I'm also not sure why Elle is so surprised that Larry writes poetry, because she had to have known that one of her classmates...was writing poetry! There is nothing where she thinks that it couldn't possibly be him, no scene where she even wonders who it might be (as if love poetry just shows up in her mailbox because that's how the universe works). Her admirer is not even revealed to be a woman, because that would both be an interesting twist, and would give representation to an LGBT person. It couldn't even be Eugenia.
And of course the pretty, popular girl has a secret admirer and gets an apartment filled with flowers on Valentine's day. Does this happen at your school, much less at college?
And of course, the secret poetry writer is secretly in love with her, even though they've spent absolutely no time together, and he confesses his love to her. But that, too, goes nowhere! She doesn't return his love, and she doesn't have to let him down easily or fend him off because he's become a stalker. He confesses his love, and she doesn't even really reply to him, just gets in her car and drives off. I've actually quite forgotten what happens--because nothing happened! And we never see Larry again! I remember thinking that this should be an interesting scene, but it's not.
There are so many paper-thin stereotypes that weren't even filler, because they didn't do their job of filling up pages. The book even describes what conversations she overheard while waiting in line to purchase her books. And the conversations have no bearing on her or the plot at all. They're just the typical conversations one overhears while out and about--nothing interesting or special at all!
But there is one stereotype whose absence is really felt, in a book about stereotypes and fabulous blondes. You can probably guess who I'm talking about. Elle Woods has no Gay Best Friend (TM). Never has the absence of a Z-snap been so loud.
There are male hairdressers, however that in itself is not representation, and they don't play much of a role in the story at all.
I thought that perhaps it was a Young Adult book, and that YA books were squeamish about LGBT people. But I found nothing on the cover to indicate that it was a YA book, no mention of the author even writing YA books.
There are also scenes in which Elle "leaned forward seductively," and said that she wanted to keep her and Warner's celebration "going all night long." She thinks about nights spent in his arms. So even though it's rather tastefully done, it's very plain that she has premarital sex, plans and all but asks for sex, and is never sorry about any of it! And they sexualize LGBT people! Double standard, much?
I thought perhaps that the author was homophobic, but she has male hairdressers and never mentions their wives or girlfriends. (And don't bother wondering--they don't even say anything, or touch Elle's hair, so they're not worth your time, either.) She had to have known what she was implying. And again, she's perfectly okay with premarital sex among her characters, so she apparently isn't religious.
She could have easily made the feminist stereotype a lesbian, too--that's another stereotype, which she apparently likes. But the character's sexuality is not mentioned, and Elle doesn't even think about it.
The movie does a better job of including gay characters, even though the three (two?) characters explicitly stated to be gay are walking stereotypes. I wondered if there were two, because a stereotypical male hairdresser makes an appearance to remark on the "bend-and-snap" technique. (Another thing missing from the book, along with the subplot about the manicurist having a crush on the UPS guy.) He may not be gay in the movie's canon, but he's definitely coded gay. Come to think of it, both the poolboy and his boyfriend might be bisexual, even though Elle assumes the poolboy is gay. Regardless, the film does portray at least two LGBT characters, which is two more than the book.
And speaking of lack of diversity, all of the students, in both her schools, are all white, straight, cisgender, able-bodied, and come from wealthy, upper-class backgrounds. No one is described to be otherwise. And even they don't take Elle's dream of starting the Blonde Legal Defense Fund seriously. (That's book-only, thank goodness.)
As a blonde, let me say--Elle, please stop! Even if there is anti-blonde discrimination, it is not systemic, not pervasive, and in some places, being a blonde might actually help get you a job (Fox News, for example, though apparently there is also a problem of sexual harassment at that company--something brunettes go through too). There is also the little detail that, unless one dyes their hair, most blondes are white. I am afraid that fighting for the rights of blondes makes a mockery of other fights for equality.
It is also quite clear that Elle is a very wealthy young woman. She does not think once about the cost of tuition to an Ivy League school, her own private, pet-friendly apartment off-campus, or about paying off her years at state college. She "had to trade in her BMW for a Beemer." (Boo-hoo, poor little rich girl.) I'll bet it wasn't a used Beemer, either. She also has designer luggage and clothes, and the descriptions of her clothing made me think that she had quite a lot of clothes. She apparently brought evening clothes to college with her, and apparently has Halloween costumes and a special outfit, covered in hearts, that she only wears on Valentine's Day. That's an awful lot of waste, right there--of time, money, space, etc. Kind of like the book itself.
Book Review: Legally Blonde (Part 1 of 2)--Why The Movie Was So Much Better
I'll save you the trouble--don't bother with this book. The movie was better in so many ways, and not nearly as boring as the book.
Now, if you want to hear my more exact criticism, read on.
I read this book, Legally Blonde by Amanda Brown, after seeing the movie that it is (allegedly) based on. (It is presently on Netflix streaming, if you want to watch it. The movie is quite fun, and I'm a big fan.)
However, other than the main character's name, Elle Woods, and the basic plot that she goes to law school to win back her love and finds a love of law along the way, it has very little in common with the movie.
Her dog in the book is named Underdog, not Bruiser, though he is still a Chihuahua. She goes to Standford, not Harvard. The "evil" fiancee of her recent ex-boyfriend is Sarah Nottingham, not Vivian Kensington. Even the name of her sorority is changed. In all of these cases, I am loyal to the movie.
Underdog may be a good name, in the sense that Elle is supposedly a (very rich and privileged) "underdog" at her new school, however it's a little obvious in its symbolism. The author, Amanda Brown, would have done better in choosing a name like David, Gideon, or Jason, something more subtle in the theme of the little guy taking on and conquering the big guy or the mythical monster.
I also think that "Vivian" connotes more of the upper crust than "Sarah," though Vivian might also be a bit matronly (though still lovely and aristocratic).
Key scenes from the movie, with hilarious lines, are missing entirely in the book. There is no, "You got into Harvard Law?" to which she does not reply, "What, like it's hard?" in Reese Witherspoon's perky voice. There is no subplot with Elle Woods rescuing her manicurist's dog from an abusive ex-husband. The manicurist is also French in the book, for some reason. Beyond that, we know literally nothing about her.
When Warner breaks up with Elle, she does not make a scene and loudly demand, "You mean my boobs are too big?!" He does not convince her to let him drive her home by saying, "You'll ruin your shoes." She does not need convincing.
She does not have an epiphany in the beauty salon, after he dumps her, that she needs to become a law student to win him back. She simply decides automatically that she has to do that. There is no line where she says, "That's what I have to be!" pointing to a picture, and the Asian woman next to her asks, "Practically deformed?" (Indeed, there are no Asian women in this book, not even in the beauty salons. More on that later.)
The LSAT admissions tests are not mistaken for a vaginal rash by her sorority sisters.
She does not choose to walk by Warner when she first sees him in law school, letting him discover her. I remember this scene in the movie very well, because when I saw it the first time, my mom pointed it out to me, saying, "She does a very smart thing here!" She doesn't do the smart thing in the book.
The party she is invited to is an actual Halloween costume party, in the book--she wasn't told a normal party was a costume party as a trick, like in the movie. She dresses as a goth girl, not a Playboy bunny, like in the movie. The Playboy bunny in the movie actually goes better with her blonde persona than a goth girl. She does not say, "...but when I dress up as a frigid bitch, I try not to look so constipated," in reference to Sarah's (not Vivian's) normal clothes. She does not say, "I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I, Warner?" and go out to buy a laptop for her classes.
She never speaks in class unless called on, in which case she is not listening--much less talking about "masturbatory emissions" being reckless abandonment ("Why now? Why this sperm?!"), or saying that she would rather defend a client who is innocent. She never has a chance to then change her mind, while looking into her romantic rival's eyes and saying, "Actually, I'd pick the dangerous one, because I'm not afraid of a challenge."
She slacks off in all her classes, too, skipping class or reading a fashion magazine half the time. She doesn't have to work hard to get good grades and an internship at a law firm. She's not very relatable.
She never slaps a "dorky" guy in front of the women rejecting him, pretending that he broke her heart, in order to help him with his love life. This is just as well, because I've always wondered why the guy in the movie would want to go out with a woman who had just called him a loser.
She never has a chance to say that she doesn't use the word "dyke," and that the other woman must have heard it from Warner's new fiancee. (My line would have been, "I am a dyke--if I call you one, it's a compliment!")
There is no liposuction as a secret alibi for the accused murderess. Instead, it's a support group for home shopping addicts, so we don't have the famous personal fitness instructor screaming in despair, "Normal women don't have this ass!"
The fitness instructor isn't even in the same sorority as Elle, in the book.
There is no poolboy claiming to have an affair with the accused, and so Elle does not figure out that he's gay because of his knowledge of her designer shoes. More on the total lack of LGBT representation later.
The scene where Elle interrogates the stepdaughter of the accused, getting a confession out of her on the witness stand, is done much better in the movie, also. In the movie, the judge interrupts her, asking if the story about her friend's perm is relevant, while everyone in the courtroom rolls their eyes. In the book, Elle simply states, "It is relevant," right off the bat, then has a very long conversation with the stepdaughter about her hair, a conversation which is not interrupted or objected to even once.
Stating that it's relevant beforehand might also have tipped off her witness to be on her guard, if anyone in this book had a brain.
The confession is also built up better in the film, as Elle keeps yelling at her, baiting her, demanding to know why she shot her father, until the stepdaughter breaks down and screams, "Because I thought it was you!" pointing to Brooke, the accused. There is much more tension and drama this way.
In the book, Chutney, the witness, talks about her stepmother of her own accord, then suddenly says that that's why she shot her father, because she thought it was Brooke. This doesn't seem very realistic at all.
There is also no nice new love interest in the book (which is actually good in a way, because does there always have to be one?). There is no strong female professor who gives her a hard time but then becomes a huge ally to her (which I missed). There is also no older male professor sexually harassing her. One thing that could have been in the movie was the professor who was always drunk for his lectures.
The one thing I do like about the book is that Elle invented her own major: Socio-Political Jewelry Design. She invented her own major! That's pretty badass!
It has the same problem that the movie did, though, in that she already had a passion, extensive knowledge of her subject, and a desired career in life, before law school, so it wasn't really character growth when she decided she wanted to practice law. (So I'm not sure why everyone in the movie and book thinks that she's not "serious" about her life, and why the story seems to imply it.) The movie, though it portrayed her as a simple fashion student, did an excellent job of showing her extensive knowledge of fabrics and designers before law school. Again, it surpasses the book in yet another area.
Now, if you want to hear my more exact criticism, read on.
I read this book, Legally Blonde by Amanda Brown, after seeing the movie that it is (allegedly) based on. (It is presently on Netflix streaming, if you want to watch it. The movie is quite fun, and I'm a big fan.)
However, other than the main character's name, Elle Woods, and the basic plot that she goes to law school to win back her love and finds a love of law along the way, it has very little in common with the movie.
Her dog in the book is named Underdog, not Bruiser, though he is still a Chihuahua. She goes to Standford, not Harvard. The "evil" fiancee of her recent ex-boyfriend is Sarah Nottingham, not Vivian Kensington. Even the name of her sorority is changed. In all of these cases, I am loyal to the movie.
Underdog may be a good name, in the sense that Elle is supposedly a (very rich and privileged) "underdog" at her new school, however it's a little obvious in its symbolism. The author, Amanda Brown, would have done better in choosing a name like David, Gideon, or Jason, something more subtle in the theme of the little guy taking on and conquering the big guy or the mythical monster.
I also think that "Vivian" connotes more of the upper crust than "Sarah," though Vivian might also be a bit matronly (though still lovely and aristocratic).
Key scenes from the movie, with hilarious lines, are missing entirely in the book. There is no, "You got into Harvard Law?" to which she does not reply, "What, like it's hard?" in Reese Witherspoon's perky voice. There is no subplot with Elle Woods rescuing her manicurist's dog from an abusive ex-husband. The manicurist is also French in the book, for some reason. Beyond that, we know literally nothing about her.
When Warner breaks up with Elle, she does not make a scene and loudly demand, "You mean my boobs are too big?!" He does not convince her to let him drive her home by saying, "You'll ruin your shoes." She does not need convincing.
She does not have an epiphany in the beauty salon, after he dumps her, that she needs to become a law student to win him back. She simply decides automatically that she has to do that. There is no line where she says, "That's what I have to be!" pointing to a picture, and the Asian woman next to her asks, "Practically deformed?" (Indeed, there are no Asian women in this book, not even in the beauty salons. More on that later.)
The LSAT admissions tests are not mistaken for a vaginal rash by her sorority sisters.
She does not choose to walk by Warner when she first sees him in law school, letting him discover her. I remember this scene in the movie very well, because when I saw it the first time, my mom pointed it out to me, saying, "She does a very smart thing here!" She doesn't do the smart thing in the book.
The party she is invited to is an actual Halloween costume party, in the book--she wasn't told a normal party was a costume party as a trick, like in the movie. She dresses as a goth girl, not a Playboy bunny, like in the movie. The Playboy bunny in the movie actually goes better with her blonde persona than a goth girl. She does not say, "...but when I dress up as a frigid bitch, I try not to look so constipated," in reference to Sarah's (not Vivian's) normal clothes. She does not say, "I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I, Warner?" and go out to buy a laptop for her classes.
She never speaks in class unless called on, in which case she is not listening--much less talking about "masturbatory emissions" being reckless abandonment ("Why now? Why this sperm?!"), or saying that she would rather defend a client who is innocent. She never has a chance to then change her mind, while looking into her romantic rival's eyes and saying, "Actually, I'd pick the dangerous one, because I'm not afraid of a challenge."
She slacks off in all her classes, too, skipping class or reading a fashion magazine half the time. She doesn't have to work hard to get good grades and an internship at a law firm. She's not very relatable.
She never slaps a "dorky" guy in front of the women rejecting him, pretending that he broke her heart, in order to help him with his love life. This is just as well, because I've always wondered why the guy in the movie would want to go out with a woman who had just called him a loser.
She never has a chance to say that she doesn't use the word "dyke," and that the other woman must have heard it from Warner's new fiancee. (My line would have been, "I am a dyke--if I call you one, it's a compliment!")
There is no liposuction as a secret alibi for the accused murderess. Instead, it's a support group for home shopping addicts, so we don't have the famous personal fitness instructor screaming in despair, "Normal women don't have this ass!"
The fitness instructor isn't even in the same sorority as Elle, in the book.
There is no poolboy claiming to have an affair with the accused, and so Elle does not figure out that he's gay because of his knowledge of her designer shoes. More on the total lack of LGBT representation later.
The scene where Elle interrogates the stepdaughter of the accused, getting a confession out of her on the witness stand, is done much better in the movie, also. In the movie, the judge interrupts her, asking if the story about her friend's perm is relevant, while everyone in the courtroom rolls their eyes. In the book, Elle simply states, "It is relevant," right off the bat, then has a very long conversation with the stepdaughter about her hair, a conversation which is not interrupted or objected to even once.
Stating that it's relevant beforehand might also have tipped off her witness to be on her guard, if anyone in this book had a brain.
The confession is also built up better in the film, as Elle keeps yelling at her, baiting her, demanding to know why she shot her father, until the stepdaughter breaks down and screams, "Because I thought it was you!" pointing to Brooke, the accused. There is much more tension and drama this way.
In the book, Chutney, the witness, talks about her stepmother of her own accord, then suddenly says that that's why she shot her father, because she thought it was Brooke. This doesn't seem very realistic at all.
There is also no nice new love interest in the book (which is actually good in a way, because does there always have to be one?). There is no strong female professor who gives her a hard time but then becomes a huge ally to her (which I missed). There is also no older male professor sexually harassing her. One thing that could have been in the movie was the professor who was always drunk for his lectures.
The one thing I do like about the book is that Elle invented her own major: Socio-Political Jewelry Design. She invented her own major! That's pretty badass!
It has the same problem that the movie did, though, in that she already had a passion, extensive knowledge of her subject, and a desired career in life, before law school, so it wasn't really character growth when she decided she wanted to practice law. (So I'm not sure why everyone in the movie and book thinks that she's not "serious" about her life, and why the story seems to imply it.) The movie, though it portrayed her as a simple fashion student, did an excellent job of showing her extensive knowledge of fabrics and designers before law school. Again, it surpasses the book in yet another area.
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