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davramlocke's Reviews (777)
An amazing accomplishment, whether or not you actually like the book. Probably a masterpiece in its own right, though that could be post finish warmth talking.
I'd never even heard of the Green River Killer until I listened to a Radiolab podcast last week that talked about why people do bad things. Coincidentally, I had ordered this book for our library just a few days prior, so when it came in, my interest, already kindled by the podcast, perked up and I snatched it out of the cataloger's hands. I expected something dark and possibly even difficult to read, but instead I found an emotional story about a detective who found a happy ending in near impossible circumstances.
The Green River Killer is a man named Gary Ridgway who murdered almost sixty prostitutes in the early 80s and beyond. I should say murderer and necropheliac I guess, though that apparently did not apply to all his victims. The graphic novel, The Green River Killer, tells the story of a man named Tom Jensen, who was not a killer but in fact a detective and the father of the book's author, Jeff Jensen. Tom Jensen, early in his career, was assigned to the Green River Task Force. For almost twenty years he worked the case, even after the task force was disbanded and even after he retired. In 2003, due to advances in DNA, they finally caught Gary Ridgway and later that year gave him life in prison.
It might seem strange and somewhat pandering for a man to tell his father's career story in this way, and when dealing with actual people and events, keeping an un-biased opinion is probably impossible. At least, this is what I thought before reading the book. Fortunately, it's told in such a way that bias really makes no difference. There were a few names changed, and few identities altered, but the facts are mostly there, and the story isn't so much a true crime account of the Green River Killings as it is about the man who dedicated his life to finding out the truth about them. It's told with a humor that would be out of place in a story about a man killing prostitutes if it weren't so human in its origin. The style is simple, clean lines and black and white colors, but the artist still manages to capture the emotion in peoples' faces as they are confronted with the awful things this man did.
I picked up the book and read it in one sitting, which isn't usually something I do. But Green River Killer was pretty hard to put down, both for the morbidly fascinating events depicted within it and because it's the story of a man on a difficult quest who finds closure. It all happened, and it's a good story, with even a bit of hope in there despite the tragedy behind it.
The Green River Killer is a man named Gary Ridgway who murdered almost sixty prostitutes in the early 80s and beyond. I should say murderer and necropheliac I guess, though that apparently did not apply to all his victims. The graphic novel, The Green River Killer, tells the story of a man named Tom Jensen, who was not a killer but in fact a detective and the father of the book's author, Jeff Jensen. Tom Jensen, early in his career, was assigned to the Green River Task Force. For almost twenty years he worked the case, even after the task force was disbanded and even after he retired. In 2003, due to advances in DNA, they finally caught Gary Ridgway and later that year gave him life in prison.
It might seem strange and somewhat pandering for a man to tell his father's career story in this way, and when dealing with actual people and events, keeping an un-biased opinion is probably impossible. At least, this is what I thought before reading the book. Fortunately, it's told in such a way that bias really makes no difference. There were a few names changed, and few identities altered, but the facts are mostly there, and the story isn't so much a true crime account of the Green River Killings as it is about the man who dedicated his life to finding out the truth about them. It's told with a humor that would be out of place in a story about a man killing prostitutes if it weren't so human in its origin. The style is simple, clean lines and black and white colors, but the artist still manages to capture the emotion in peoples' faces as they are confronted with the awful things this man did.
I picked up the book and read it in one sitting, which isn't usually something I do. But Green River Killer was pretty hard to put down, both for the morbidly fascinating events depicted within it and because it's the story of a man on a difficult quest who finds closure. It all happened, and it's a good story, with even a bit of hope in there despite the tragedy behind it.
http://adventuresinpopcult.wordpress.com/2012/07/13/the-last-werewolf-a-myth-finally-done-right/
When I had to describe this book to a friend, I started with the words "geek porn." I've finished the book, and those words are accurate in the sense that if you have ever been part of the geek subculture at any point in your life, something in this novel will tickle that memory beautifully because it references so many video games, movies, books, and television shows.
The novel is dystopic in the sense that it happens in a world about forty years into our own future. The energy crisis has come to a head and only the richest individuals and corporations have access to the kind of resources we take for granted. Amidst all this, a man named James Halliday creates a virtual simulation called OASIS that enables billions of users all across the globe to tap in and live whatever kind of life they want; at the expense of engaging in reality. Shortly before his death, Halliday creates a contest to start post-mortem that will entitle its winner to his billions of dollars and complete control over the OASIS. The contest involves knowing all the geek trivia and obscurity that has collected in his own brain over the course of a lifetime and ultimately finding the Egg that he's placed at the center of his maze.
Reader Player One follows a young man named Wade and his journey to find Halliday's "egg." Wade is a reclusive loner living in a run-down trailer park with a knack for computer hacking and geek culture. As a gunter, a term used to describe those in search of Halliday's egg, he has made it his sole mission in life to win the contest and change his stars.
There is more in this book that can be contained in its pages. It manages to be a mythical quest, a coming of age story, a romance, an epic journey, and a reverent homage to geek culture all in the same 374 pages. It reads easy, and there were countless moments where I let out girlish squeals of delight as I found Cline narrating moments that could have come from my own life. It's apparent how much of a nerd Cline is because no amount of research could possibly have gleaned all the details that only a true connoisseur of this culture would know. It's enough to even be off-putting at times as a certain reference will confuse those not in the know, but it also makes a reader want to find out the fun behind those references.
I can recommend this book to anyone, but at the same time I feel the need to strongly shove it on some of my geekiest friends because I know they'll love it. If you've ever become immersed in a video game or watched a geeky movie a dozen or more times then you owe it to yourself to read through Reader Player One.
The novel is dystopic in the sense that it happens in a world about forty years into our own future. The energy crisis has come to a head and only the richest individuals and corporations have access to the kind of resources we take for granted. Amidst all this, a man named James Halliday creates a virtual simulation called OASIS that enables billions of users all across the globe to tap in and live whatever kind of life they want; at the expense of engaging in reality. Shortly before his death, Halliday creates a contest to start post-mortem that will entitle its winner to his billions of dollars and complete control over the OASIS. The contest involves knowing all the geek trivia and obscurity that has collected in his own brain over the course of a lifetime and ultimately finding the Egg that he's placed at the center of his maze.
Reader Player One follows a young man named Wade and his journey to find Halliday's "egg." Wade is a reclusive loner living in a run-down trailer park with a knack for computer hacking and geek culture. As a gunter, a term used to describe those in search of Halliday's egg, he has made it his sole mission in life to win the contest and change his stars.
There is more in this book that can be contained in its pages. It manages to be a mythical quest, a coming of age story, a romance, an epic journey, and a reverent homage to geek culture all in the same 374 pages. It reads easy, and there were countless moments where I let out girlish squeals of delight as I found Cline narrating moments that could have come from my own life. It's apparent how much of a nerd Cline is because no amount of research could possibly have gleaned all the details that only a true connoisseur of this culture would know. It's enough to even be off-putting at times as a certain reference will confuse those not in the know, but it also makes a reader want to find out the fun behind those references.
I can recommend this book to anyone, but at the same time I feel the need to strongly shove it on some of my geekiest friends because I know they'll love it. If you've ever become immersed in a video game or watched a geeky movie a dozen or more times then you owe it to yourself to read through Reader Player One.
It's hard to give a collection like Volt a star rating. I think I rated it high more because I respected it because I'm not sure I liked it as much as four stars would imply. But that's not being entirely fair because I did like it, but putting my thoughts together as to why would be difficult. There is the obvious answer that it's incredibly well written, interesting, and has a deeper meaning than much of what I or anyone else reads. At the same time, it's pace is slow, deliberately, and it's not something those short of attention span should even attempt. In many ways it reminds me of the only Faulkner novel I ever read (most of). I wasn't a fan of Faulkner, to be honest, and while I may yet try him again in the future, the first time I read him I felt like there was nothing more boring in all the world that I could read. I did not think that about Heathcock's stories, which maybe says that I'm a more mature reader and should try out the masters of American Lit. once more. This also places Heathcock in pretty august company, and whether or not he is worthy of being among them is irrelevant because he brings them to mind.
The stories in Volt all have a common thread because they're all set in the same town. This is never explicitly declared, and I didn't realize it until about halfway through the book when I started seeing similar names and character descriptions popping up. I expected to read a book of disconnected short stories, and instead I found myself reading a pseudo-novel. The stories have no other connection than their setting and characters though, and because of that they do remain a series of stories rather than a whole story. The town these characters live in is rural and for the most part sad. In many ways it reminded me of the movie Winter's Bone, though it has lighter moments than that mostly dark film. The lighter moments revolve around people coming together in familial ways, though Heathcock manages to keep over-sentimentality from diluting his words. Death is common in these stories, and when it isn't death, it's madness of one sort or other; whether it's a man fleeing into to the woods to live a primal existence for months on end or the sheer weary, brain-numbing madness of a sheriff who has had to deal with too much in too short a time. And for anyone wanting resolutions in their story, look elsewhere, because Volt doesn't offer them. It delivers up reality in a dose most people would be uncomfortable with, and leaves things just as open ended as life does. Thankfully, it does so with words we can respect and believe.
The stories in Volt all have a common thread because they're all set in the same town. This is never explicitly declared, and I didn't realize it until about halfway through the book when I started seeing similar names and character descriptions popping up. I expected to read a book of disconnected short stories, and instead I found myself reading a pseudo-novel. The stories have no other connection than their setting and characters though, and because of that they do remain a series of stories rather than a whole story. The town these characters live in is rural and for the most part sad. In many ways it reminded me of the movie Winter's Bone, though it has lighter moments than that mostly dark film. The lighter moments revolve around people coming together in familial ways, though Heathcock manages to keep over-sentimentality from diluting his words. Death is common in these stories, and when it isn't death, it's madness of one sort or other; whether it's a man fleeing into to the woods to live a primal existence for months on end or the sheer weary, brain-numbing madness of a sheriff who has had to deal with too much in too short a time. And for anyone wanting resolutions in their story, look elsewhere, because Volt doesn't offer them. It delivers up reality in a dose most people would be uncomfortable with, and leaves things just as open ended as life does. Thankfully, it does so with words we can respect and believe.
I really enjoyed this particular Clowes book. It has his familiar style cynicism and simple line art and pastel-ish colors, but there's some hope in those long, extended pages, and it might be the most genuine thing he's ever written. Maybe. Very much worth a read.
The Lover's Dictionary is a brave book because it does something I've never seen done before, aside from maybe in writing exercises. Each page takes a different letter of the alphabet and makes a small chapter of it that could last anywhere from a sentence to a page and a half of text. This is dangerous ground because linking together a jumble of disconnected words into something that could be considered a story is something most writers would have trouble with. Everyone has their methods and standards, and to toy with those conventions could mean disaster. But Levithan manages to do it in a way that it's hardly even noticeable that he is travelling in an alphabetical order.
The story itself is about a couple, as many, many stories are. It tells the tale of their inception and dissolution, and the uncertainty of each. In other words, though the tale is full of love and heartbreak, the eventual conclusion is ambiguous, and if you think that a spoiler of sorts, maybe it is, but I feel like the outcome of the two characters is irrelevant to the actual story of how they became "we".
There is beautiful language in The Lover's Dictionary, and some could even call a majority of it a poetry of sorts. The metaphors are clever and relevant to whatever word they happen to be wrapped around in such a way that the creativity at coming up with them seems supernatural somehow. I even had suspicions while reading through it that this work is autobiographical in many ways simply because few authors are able to replicate the nuances and beauty of reality in such a way as to make the two inseparable. If Levithan managed to do so, then more the credit to him.
The story itself is about a couple, as many, many stories are. It tells the tale of their inception and dissolution, and the uncertainty of each. In other words, though the tale is full of love and heartbreak, the eventual conclusion is ambiguous, and if you think that a spoiler of sorts, maybe it is, but I feel like the outcome of the two characters is irrelevant to the actual story of how they became "we".
There is beautiful language in The Lover's Dictionary, and some could even call a majority of it a poetry of sorts. The metaphors are clever and relevant to whatever word they happen to be wrapped around in such a way that the creativity at coming up with them seems supernatural somehow. I even had suspicions while reading through it that this work is autobiographical in many ways simply because few authors are able to replicate the nuances and beauty of reality in such a way as to make the two inseparable. If Levithan managed to do so, then more the credit to him.
Entire series review -
I’ve never been drawn to manga (Japanese comic books), despite my love of Japanese pop-culture and appreciation of certain animes (Japanese animated movies and shows). It’s always seemed so…ridiculous. I say this as a man who loves ridiculous and absurd things. Why something both Japanese and ridiculous does not appeal to me is a mystery. Nevertheless, I decided to give Mushishi a shot, partially because I had watched some of the adapted anime and partially out of a desire to experience more aspects of Japan. Though the anime was slow compared to others I’d seen, I knew that its themes of mythology and mystery would appeal to me in book form. After reading the ten volume set of Mushishi, by Yuki Urushibara, I am delighted that I gave it a chance.
I’m unsure when in Japanese history Mushishi is set. The main character, Ginko, walks around in what looks like relatively modern clothing, but every town he visits appears like something from the medieval age. There are guns, but nothing more advanced than that (no cars), and no town seems to have more than a dozen inhabitants. This could be Japan in the 1700s or Japan in the 1900s. Ginko’s purpose in life is to help people deal with a natural phenomenon known as mushi, which means ‘bugs’ in Japanese. Mushi are atypical bugs in that they have far larger and more immediate consequences on the environment around them. The only folk who can see the mushi are specially trained mushishi; thus the title. Ginko happens to be an especially great mushishi and seems capable of performing feats no other mushishi ever has.
Each of the ten volumes has five different stories in it. Some overarching characteristics stretch across each volume, but every story is unique and can conceivably be read on its own. It’s almost like a television show in that regard, which makes it especially well suited to an anime format. As this is my first manga, it occurs to me that perhaps this style of storytelling is common with the serial nature of the medium. Every story has supernatural aspects to it, and each tale has Ginko trying to solve the mystery of which mushi is affecting people he meets. No two stories feature the same mushi, and so the array of mysteries involved is impressive. Urushibara is given freedom to follow any whim or creative jaunt that she pleases as there do not seem to be any wonders that these mushi are incapable of (for good or ill).
Thankfully, Mushishi isn’t a murder-mystery-manga. Though the mushi aren’t always benevolent (as nature is not always kind), they don’t murder or maim indiscriminately. Ginko might cure an illness caused by a mushi or in fact save someone’s life, but any darkness inherent in the story are those shadows and demons at the periphery of our own vision; not malevolent forces of evil. It creates a rich narrative full of mythological influences and simple human motives.
The artwork is similarly subdued, unlike many manga which often seem overdrawn and unrealistic (not that I’m arguing for realistic manga). Instead, Urushibara’s line-work is elegant and stylish. My favorite parts of her illustrations come at the beginning of each story, where she takes great pains to create watercolor pages. They’re so gorgeous that I often found myself pausing, not really wanting to move on with the story because the initial panels were so beautiful. I understand how time consuming creating those parts likely was, but I couldn’t help wishing for the whole book to follow this format. Mushishi doesn’t feature exaggerated reactions or superheroes throwing moon-sized fireballs around. The magical effects of the mushi are understated and often invisible. It’s the reactions of the human characters that form the narrative of each tale, making these stories ring true to human experience.
I won’t review each volume, but I’d like to highlight a few of my favorite stories (light spoilers).
-The final volume has a story called “The Eternal Tree,” and as anyone reading this likely knows my love for trees it should be no surprise that this one speaks to me. It’s about a massive Japanese cedar tree that is chopped down. A man who once came across the tree happens to eat one of its fruits, and thus has all the memories of the tree planted in his mind. The age and size of the tree are mushi enhanced, and so Ginko knows what’s happening even if there’s little he can do. It’s a story about how trees and humans can have special connections, and the apex of the tale comes when the man realizes that the tree has been protecting his village for as long as the village has existed (even after the tree’s death).
-In Volume 6 there is a story called “Banquet in the Farthest Field” that is about a special sake that only mushishi can really make full use of. I liked this story because it lets readers into the shadowy world of the mushishi, offering tantalizing glimpses of things that Urushibara has left unsaid for most of the series. It also has lots of lovely looking sake in it.
-In Volume 3, a story called “The Heavy Seed” appealed to me. This one is about a seed that appears at random on someone in a village (caused by mushi of course), and when that seed sprouts it makes for an unusually bountiful harvest. The side-effect of this is that the villager dies. I liked this story because it speaks of self-sacrifice, and because it was one of those stories where Ginko can only offer information to people, allowing them to choose whether or not to keep things as they are or change them.
-And the very first story in the first volume is called “The Green Gathering”, and tells of a boy whose drawings come to life. My love for this story is evident; what writer doesn’t want to see their stories come to life? It’s a wonderful launch to the series.
I think what makes Mushishi so good is what makes many tales of speculative fiction good: it weaves the mystical nature of the supernatural in with real human stories. We can connect to this type of storytelling, but also feel the mystery and magic that some of us so heartily crave. At this point, I am resolved and excited to try and re-watch the anime version of Mushishi. I wasn’t ready for it the first time, and while the stories will all feel familiar to me, I’m positive I’ll have a new appreciation for seeing them in motion.
Original review at - https://goldnotglittering.wordpress.com/2016/01/09/manga-review-mushishi-by-yuki-urushibara/
I’ve never been drawn to manga (Japanese comic books), despite my love of Japanese pop-culture and appreciation of certain animes (Japanese animated movies and shows). It’s always seemed so…ridiculous. I say this as a man who loves ridiculous and absurd things. Why something both Japanese and ridiculous does not appeal to me is a mystery. Nevertheless, I decided to give Mushishi a shot, partially because I had watched some of the adapted anime and partially out of a desire to experience more aspects of Japan. Though the anime was slow compared to others I’d seen, I knew that its themes of mythology and mystery would appeal to me in book form. After reading the ten volume set of Mushishi, by Yuki Urushibara, I am delighted that I gave it a chance.
I’m unsure when in Japanese history Mushishi is set. The main character, Ginko, walks around in what looks like relatively modern clothing, but every town he visits appears like something from the medieval age. There are guns, but nothing more advanced than that (no cars), and no town seems to have more than a dozen inhabitants. This could be Japan in the 1700s or Japan in the 1900s. Ginko’s purpose in life is to help people deal with a natural phenomenon known as mushi, which means ‘bugs’ in Japanese. Mushi are atypical bugs in that they have far larger and more immediate consequences on the environment around them. The only folk who can see the mushi are specially trained mushishi; thus the title. Ginko happens to be an especially great mushishi and seems capable of performing feats no other mushishi ever has.
Each of the ten volumes has five different stories in it. Some overarching characteristics stretch across each volume, but every story is unique and can conceivably be read on its own. It’s almost like a television show in that regard, which makes it especially well suited to an anime format. As this is my first manga, it occurs to me that perhaps this style of storytelling is common with the serial nature of the medium. Every story has supernatural aspects to it, and each tale has Ginko trying to solve the mystery of which mushi is affecting people he meets. No two stories feature the same mushi, and so the array of mysteries involved is impressive. Urushibara is given freedom to follow any whim or creative jaunt that she pleases as there do not seem to be any wonders that these mushi are incapable of (for good or ill).
Thankfully, Mushishi isn’t a murder-mystery-manga. Though the mushi aren’t always benevolent (as nature is not always kind), they don’t murder or maim indiscriminately. Ginko might cure an illness caused by a mushi or in fact save someone’s life, but any darkness inherent in the story are those shadows and demons at the periphery of our own vision; not malevolent forces of evil. It creates a rich narrative full of mythological influences and simple human motives.
The artwork is similarly subdued, unlike many manga which often seem overdrawn and unrealistic (not that I’m arguing for realistic manga). Instead, Urushibara’s line-work is elegant and stylish. My favorite parts of her illustrations come at the beginning of each story, where she takes great pains to create watercolor pages. They’re so gorgeous that I often found myself pausing, not really wanting to move on with the story because the initial panels were so beautiful. I understand how time consuming creating those parts likely was, but I couldn’t help wishing for the whole book to follow this format. Mushishi doesn’t feature exaggerated reactions or superheroes throwing moon-sized fireballs around. The magical effects of the mushi are understated and often invisible. It’s the reactions of the human characters that form the narrative of each tale, making these stories ring true to human experience.
I won’t review each volume, but I’d like to highlight a few of my favorite stories (light spoilers).
-The final volume has a story called “The Eternal Tree,” and as anyone reading this likely knows my love for trees it should be no surprise that this one speaks to me. It’s about a massive Japanese cedar tree that is chopped down. A man who once came across the tree happens to eat one of its fruits, and thus has all the memories of the tree planted in his mind. The age and size of the tree are mushi enhanced, and so Ginko knows what’s happening even if there’s little he can do. It’s a story about how trees and humans can have special connections, and the apex of the tale comes when the man realizes that the tree has been protecting his village for as long as the village has existed (even after the tree’s death).
-In Volume 6 there is a story called “Banquet in the Farthest Field” that is about a special sake that only mushishi can really make full use of. I liked this story because it lets readers into the shadowy world of the mushishi, offering tantalizing glimpses of things that Urushibara has left unsaid for most of the series. It also has lots of lovely looking sake in it.
-In Volume 3, a story called “The Heavy Seed” appealed to me. This one is about a seed that appears at random on someone in a village (caused by mushi of course), and when that seed sprouts it makes for an unusually bountiful harvest. The side-effect of this is that the villager dies. I liked this story because it speaks of self-sacrifice, and because it was one of those stories where Ginko can only offer information to people, allowing them to choose whether or not to keep things as they are or change them.
-And the very first story in the first volume is called “The Green Gathering”, and tells of a boy whose drawings come to life. My love for this story is evident; what writer doesn’t want to see their stories come to life? It’s a wonderful launch to the series.
I think what makes Mushishi so good is what makes many tales of speculative fiction good: it weaves the mystical nature of the supernatural in with real human stories. We can connect to this type of storytelling, but also feel the mystery and magic that some of us so heartily crave. At this point, I am resolved and excited to try and re-watch the anime version of Mushishi. I wasn’t ready for it the first time, and while the stories will all feel familiar to me, I’m positive I’ll have a new appreciation for seeing them in motion.
Original review at - https://goldnotglittering.wordpress.com/2016/01/09/manga-review-mushishi-by-yuki-urushibara/