octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

So help me, I've tried, but I just don't get it. I read my way carefully through this, and while I understood some of it there were significant portions that were clear as mud. Granted, I'm not the most intelligent person in the world. Granted, I'm a biologist rather than a physicist. But still. On the bright side, I can see a glimmer of greater understanding in my future as I certainly grasp more than I did before reading. And I suppose continued exposure to quantum physics via more pop-science may help it seem more familiar in the future, but parts of this were a little dense for me. I still don't really understand wtf spin is for... such knowledge has spun right out of my head, if it were ever actually implanted. And considering that Hawking gave me a light bulb moment in this book with his very clear explanation of the principle of uncertainty, it's a bit of a shame that I couldn't connect with him on some of the rest.

Absolutely beautifully written short novel about Grendel, the first antagonist of the Anglo-Saxon poem Beowulf. It's almost like prose poetry in some places, a sort of study of isolation and the passing of ages. In parts, however, it jars to painful standstill when Gardner puts a sort of academic philosophising into the mouths of characters like the dragon - these interludes interrupt the rhythm of the prose for no good purpose, as far as I can tell, but it's absolutely worth slogging through them for the rest of the writing.

Why isn't all economics this clearly written? I actually understood all of it, and was genuinely interested. I'm not sure that I'd call it "comprehensive", as the blurb states - it's more an overview, and the 260 odd pages of large type doesn't go into much fine detail but it does give a wide-view context of how economics was perceived and performed over the better part of the twentieth century, including the impact that the two world wars had on subsequent development. Extremely well-written, and absolutely accessible to laypeople.

Really beautifully written and sprawling tale that's I think fundamentally about small people doing small acts of humanity in a society that has become monstrous. The Book Thief doesn't gloss over the atrocities that some of the characters support - either actively or passively - yet it somehow makes me feel for them regardless. It helps, I expect, that the family at the centre of the piece, consisting of a young girl and her foster parents, are truly good people and are often punished for it by their community. One feels less guilt in identification then. But the reliance on the written word as a way of navigating and surviving trauma is a recognisable one, and one can't blame the little book thief for thieving. It probably saved her sanity, which I suppose might be the primary function of books after all.

Short and fairly interesting account of the August Coup from the man at the centre of it. This book is essentially a primary historical document now, for all that it only covers a few days in the history of a nation. I'm not greatly familiar with Russian history, but it's fairly easy to get the gist of what's going on here. The main point of interest is the sheer idealism with which Gorbachev appears to think of his country's shift in focus. I'm not sure that ever became reality, but this account serves as a reminder of how idealism can motivate change if nothing else.

This is fairly well-written in that the words themselves are put together well. The tone is consistent, the voice entertaining, and I enjoyed the resourcefulness of the main character. The world the book depicts is also a fascinating one - the final struggle after an alien invasion, a biological seeding that transforms the bodies of every living creature on Earth. But one of the through-threads concerning Callie's dad is so monumentally unbelievable that it sours most of the book for me, a situation not helped by world-building inconsistencies and even the odd mistake. Granted, this is only the first volume in the series (it ends on a cliffhanger) and so this might mostly be cleared up in later volumes, but I'm not a particular fan of that kind of handwavium. Each volume of a series should make sense on its own merits, and although there's some really enjoyable things in here it ultimately doesn't make enough consistent sense for me.

The characters and quests of the first three books come back together in an attempt to get shot of the Shadowen. On the bright side, because so much of this is plot and there's so much that needs to be covered, there's just not room for Brooks to waste on the miserable never-ending navel gazing that characters such as Par and Walker are all too prone to indulging in. (Hooray!) There is still far more than is warranted, however, and the rot spreads to Wren as well. My favourite of the three main characters, she's barely served in here, getting a much shorter role than the men, and not much of what she has is complimentary. She's fooled by the most obvious trap in the history of traps, and spends far too much time hand-wringing about how it sickens her to kill. (It probably sickens the men in your Elven army too, madam, but carry on letting them sicken themselves to death so that you don't have to compromise yourself, by all means.)

I did like the pace and breadth of this, and I always enjoy a moor cat. Walker was much improved from The Druid of Shannara, I liked him. The ending was a little rushed, however, and I just cannot take the romance between Plum and Golf Boy seriously.

I read and reviewed each of the four volumes of this series separately, so this is basically just for my own records. The rating for the collection is an average of the individual entries - all volumes were rated two stars, apart from The Elf Queen of Shannara which gained three by virtue of improved pacing and character.

Honestly, though there are some interesting bits of invention in here I found the series as a whole just too damn long. If it had been tightened up by cutting each volume down to half their final length I think it would have improved out of sight. Especially as most of the extra material seems to be repetitive angst from most of the characters. Alright, so that probably doesn't take up 200 pages a pop but it very often felt like it. Spent a lot of my reading time wanting to give the main culprits a good boot up the backside and a sharp lecture about shutting up and getting on with it. (When, in the final volume, Morgan Leah bellowed at his idiot companions to actually "Move!" it was the greatest moment of sympathy I felt for any character at any time in the series. Say what you will about the Leahs, they're rarely sulkers.)

Science fiction based around the marine environment, yay! Naturally I was pre-disposed to like this and I really really do. I love how interconnected it is, a novel like an ecosystem, all the moving parts impacting on each other and the effects of each contact rippling out into the wider world. Sometimes, I admit, this focus on wider interactions did make parts of this novel a little unfocused, but that is a small quibble, because the mix of character and concept and idea here is so appealing.

I'm rereading the Earthsea books, having read them before some years back, and I can't help but think that I should rate them higher than I do. I'm excepting The Tombs of Atuan, which as far as I'm concerned is a five star read, the pick of the bunch, but the other two of that original trilogy... the setting is fantastic. It's what I connect to most. And there's so much thought behind this, so much focus on choice and theme, and with other characters I might love it as much as I do Atuan, but. But.

I just cannot warm to Ged. Or to Arren for that matter. In fact I find myself, then and now, absolutely emotionally disconnected with both Wizard and Shore, and it's because in both volumes I don't give the tiniest shit about what happens to any of the characters. Not a single one of them. And yet I'm aware as I read that I'm reading something out of the ordinary, something well-written and thoughtfully constructed with a potentially fascinating underlying philosophy. And there are moments when the imagery of the setting truly touches me... but I'm forced to the conclusion that, for me, this book - like the first in the series - is something to admire from a distance rather than love.