calarco's Reviews (760)

Gathering Blue is both a solid stand-alone novel, as well as an intriguing entry to the Giver Quartet.

In general, I quite enjoy novels that feature ragtag groups of misfits learning and working with one another. I find them far more realistic and grounding than a tale that focuses on the rugged individual, even if the plot takes place in a fictional dystopian world.

The one criticism I do have is that the narrative pacing could have been better, especially towards the end. Otherwise, it's an interesting book, I would recommend it.

This third entry in the Giver Quartet, is an interesting mixed bag of good and bad storytelling elements. Messenger is also the first of the series to feature characters from both of the previous books.

What I enjoyed about the book was the characters and their journeys. Messenger is aided by its previous two entries providing a great deal of exposition. That said, this is the first book to truly feature a character who is deeply flawed undergo a tremendous personal growth with the kindness and nurturing of those around him. I would even argue that Messenger did this much better than The Giver.

The book also has a really interesting plot, that builds with anticipation and excitement at a really good pace. Honestly, the only reason I do not rate this one higher is entirely due to the ending. I cannot elaborate without delving into spoiler-territory, but the ending is pretty dumb.

That said, I will still be reading the final entry to the Giver Quartet. While I didn't like the ending, I'm invested enough in these characters and this world to want to see what happens next.

Of the Giver Quartet, Son is easily my favorite. In addition to building off existing intertextuality, this final volume of the series is the most fully-fleshed out narrative of the bunch. It also answers some questions regarding the lore of the story's setting.

Broken into three parts - Before, Between, Beyond - each segment features a location and time period that helps to establish a comprehensive timeline for the overall Quartet. Additionally, the main character Claire travels through different villages that have been mentioned or hinted at throughout the series, providing information on how these different communities are connected.

It is also worth mentioning that Claire is the most interesting character of the series, and undergoes the most dramatic change and growth. Initially seeing the town from The Giver through her eyes, better highlighted the sinister and heartbreaking consequences of the community's traditions. Notably, her subsequent journeys and varying mental/physical transformations created an earnest investment in the overall outcome of events. I read this book very quickly.

Overall, I would recommend the series on the whole, especially so that Son can be fully appreciated.

Dawn is an interesting novel for a number of reasons. Though it is work of fiction, it still acts as a narrative sequel to Elie Wiesel's autobiographical account of his time during the Holocaust, Night. In Dawn, Wiesel imagines what could have happened to him had he been in the camps for four years instead of one, and sent to Palestine instead of France. He imagines choices a darker and more defeated version of himself may have made, and it is a fascinating thought experiment.

In Dawn (published in 1961) the fictional Elisha is living in the British Mandate of Palestine, and has joined a group of terrorists fighting to end British occupation. Elisha is nearly 19 years old, and has been tasked by the group to kill a British officer, John Dawson, in response to the execution of David Ben Moshe. The narrative that unfolds follows Elisha as he considers his choices and the role he has been given.

Just as in Night, Wiesel does not shy away from his own inner darkness, as reflected in the fictional Elisha. He thoroughly explores how trauma and cruelty can entrap humans into cycles of violence. As Elisha contemplates the killing he has been asked to carry out, he ponders,

"I certainly wanted to hate him...John Dawson has made me a murderer, I said to myself. He has made me the murderer of John Dawson. He deserves my hate. Were it not for him, I might still be a murderer, but I wouldn't be the murderer of John Dawson. Yes, I had come down to the cellar to feed my hate. It seemed easy enough. Armies and governments the world over have a definite technique for provoking hate. By speeches and films and other kinds of propaganda they create an image of the enemy in which he is the incarnation of evil, the symbol of suffering, the fountainhead of the cruelty and injustice of all times. The technique is infallible, I told myself, and I shall turn it upon my victim."

Given what has happened to Elisha during the Holocaust, it is understandable how he inclined to view his role as something inescapable, and a part in a larger machine that forever churns out trauma. That said, seeing the story from the outside, it is hard to see murder as something inevitable. Unless it is carried out in self-defense, I do feel like there must always be a choice in the matter. Elisha may also see this, as he contemplates what he must do. Elisha may be the main character, but depending on his choice he may not be a protagonist.

Without revealing too much about his final decision, I can say that Elisha's internal dilemma on morality and humanity in general are quite interesting. Also, while this is a novel, the narrative felt like a stage production as much of the events occur in a single house, and many of Elisha's internal arguments have the poignancy of great soliloquies.

All in all, I would recommend Dawn, though do keep in mind that while it is a sequel of sorts to Night, it is a very different type of narrative.

Truth be told, after Night and Dawn, Day was an underwhelming letdown. Perhaps some may feel that it is alright if not considered a sequel to the two previous volumes, but even then I would argue that as a standalone it ain't great either.

Some good (and honest) points that Wiesel makes though, include that there is truly no meaning in pain and suffering. People all too often confuse "suffering" with "perseverance." With the later you can certainly make meaning from overcoming or surviving something horrific. But suffering in and of itself has no meaning, and while bleak, it does tend to bring out the worst in people.

That said, the main character knows suffering, but not necessarily perseverance. The specifics of his dark past play a role in this outcome, but he then falls completely to the suffering. That specifically is not an inauthentic response. The problem is he uses this internal chaos as an excuse to use the women around him as a means to unleash these sentiments.

While I initially felt bad for Kathleen, I was eventually just left frustrated with her two dimensional rigidity. It's hard to sustain sympathy for characters who have been written solely to act as a catalyst for change in a male character's personal growth; that's just a boring and unpleasant plot device.

Lastly, while I could see this as a fictional sequel to Night, this novel does not really address the events of Dawn. Normally, this would not be an issue, but given where things left with Dawn, it does not make much narrative sense that there would be no reflections on what seemed to be fairly significant acts.

Overall, I did not like it, but read and decide for yourself.

Persepolis is an excellent graphic memoir that shares a young girl's coming of age story in Iran during the Islamic Revolution.

The graphic novel's largest strengths lie with its use of perspective, both literally and figuratively. Any story, let alone a memoir, that shows horrifying real events through the eyes of a child tends to have an especially strong impact. With Marjane's illustrations, you can actually see large scale horrors and tragedies, and how they impact even minor details in young Marji's life.

Marji is small, she has not lived long, but that does not mean that her life or young perspective are insignificant. If anything, I think this proved to amplify the feelings of helplessness and lack of control during a time of great strife, which better conveyed the historical events of the time.

Overall, I really liked this, I will definitely read the second volume, and I definitely recommend it.

Macbeth is probably my favorite Shakespeare play, at least of all the ones I have read so far. It is an excellent tale of the corruption of greed, and has some of the most interesting and iconic characters of literary history.

One of my favorites is easily Lady Macbeth. In addition to be an extra diva of a villain (or so I like to envision her), she is one of the more multilayered female villains of her time. Most all villains meet an end in blood or moral dilemma/comeuppance, and her demise is brought upon by her own internal moral conflict. The source of her anguish at the novel's close, is not the shame of a woman who dared to reach for power, but guilt from the deaths she caused. To see a woman in early 17th century literature guilted, rather than shamed, is pretty refreshing.

I am also forever fascinated by the three witches. To the best of my knowledge, this is one of the first appearances of this now famous trope in Western Literature. Three powerful witches who act as catalysts for malignant or benevolent change can now be seen in Sleeping Beauty, The Black Cauldron, Charmed, Hocus Pocus, and To Wong Foo. My favorite witchy antagonists are not powerful due forceful aggression, but rather are strong in their ability to troll humanity and allow people to corrupt themselves.

Also, the use of prophecy in this drama is superbly compelling. Delivered in a carefully crafted riddle, the witches' divination clearly lays out what will be Macbeth's demise, but do so in a way that bolsters him with false hope. As the Second Apparition states:

Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
The power of man, for none of woman born
Shall harm Macbeth.

Who in the 1600s would even consider an attack from someone born via c-section?

Overall, my continuing love for this play largely stems from the fact that it's just fun story telling, excellent prose, and a narrative that is easily subject to nuanced interpretation. One particularly good adaptation is Akira Kurosawa's 1958 film, Throne of Blood, with the Scotsmen re-imagined as samurai.

It's probably obvious, but I super recommend this play, if only so you can see how this one drama effected an entire magical zeitgeist.

This was not a good read; it's as simple as that. The Ballad of Ballard and Sardine seemed interesting enough on paper, and I had heard good things about Peter Straub, but this book was not the best introduction to his work (I hope).

Traveling like a parabola through time, the narrative shifts backwards and forwards through three specific years as the two main characters flow down a river on a mysterious boat. Neither Ballard nor Sardine are especially interesting. One is a creepy old man and the other is a young girl with daddy issues. They have a sadomasochistic relationship that is very uncomfortable to read. Ultimately, Ballard groomed a young Sardine when she was a teenager, and now they are trapped in this toxic, hazy cycle.

While these elements could have made for a compelling tale, nothing interesting happens plot-wise, the characters are stagnant, and no greater meaning is ever revealed. In addition to being unsettling, it is plain boring. Weird and bad things happen for shock value, and that's about it.

While I honestly cannot recommend it, of course, read it for yourself and decide.

Something Wicked This Way Comes is a pretty solid read. Existing at an intersection of horror, coming-of-age, and nostalgia, this tale is super entertaining and a lot of fun.

Specifically, the novel invokes a great deal of 80's nostalgia, which is odd considering it was published in 1962. I think this is largely because that particular era of horror is defined by storytelling that highlights the importance of human bonds and connection in the face of a monster. It also does not patronize the merits of youth, and even embraces the significance of youthful characteristics. In a day and age when so many stories are often cynically meta, simple earnestness is remarkably refreshing.

I also love a tale that follows an imperfect, ragtag group of misfits coming together to overcome obstacles. Both Will and Jim come from unconventional homes; one has a significantly older father, and the other is raised by a single mother. Will's father Charles is further made insecure by his age, but still pushes to overcome his self-doubts and self-loathing for the sake of his son.

If you want a story that is wholesome horror, then look no further than Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Exploring the perspectives of both sides of an invasion, The Moon is Down is an interesting read.

Published at the height of WWII, The Moon is Down was very influential amongst Nazi occupied countries. That said, even though it was considered pro-Allies’ wartime propaganda, there were many who criticized it for not demonizing its fictitious invaders.

What is interesting about the novel is that it never specifies any of the countries involved, so it could act as a blank slate upon which people of the time could cast themselves. It is also written very much like a play, which adds to that effect. Overall, I think Steinbeck’s attempt to depict all of the characters as multi-faceted human beings, worked in the novel’s favor.

One criticism I do have of the novel though, is its sanitation and perceived civility of an invasion. Events occur in too neat a fashion, and while invasions can occur swiftly, it is hard for me to picture so tidy an affair.

Furthermore, if this was supposed to emulate a Nazi invasion, there were some key missing scenes of Jewish and other minority groups being disappeared to internment camps. Though to Steinbeck’s credit, I don’t know how common this knowledge of events were at the time of his writing this work.

What the novel does really well though, is highlight the tenacity and perseverance of everyday people in an occupied town. Also, by showing that the invading force are made up of people rather than monsters, Steinbeck shows that they can certainly be defeated. One of the tale’s lead invaders, Colonel Lanser, admits,

We trained our young men for victory and you’ve got to admit they’re glorious in victory, but they don’t quite know how to act in defeat. We told them they were brighter and braver than other young men. It was a kind of shock for them to find out that they aren’t a bit braver or brighter than other young men.

What Steinbeck demonstrates well is that occupation is not necessarily defeat, so despite my criticisms I would still definitely recommend this book.