January Reading
Feb. 9th, 2014 04:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aseKate Nepveu links to a drift compatibility discussion, and I think one could argue Julie and Maddie are TOTALLY DRIFT COMPATIBLE on that kiss me, Hardy! alone. *sniff*
Which reminded me that I have read books!
Code Name: Verity (Elizabeth Wein) (2012): WW2 fiction about two friends, English and Scottish, spy and pilot, and a mission in occupied France that goes sideways. Emotional wrecking-ball which had a great deal of research poured into developing a line of argument the author's story could have happened. Usually I have a great deal of trouble with epistolary fiction, as a particularly awkward format that challenges my suspension of disbelief - who really transcribes entire conversations into letter or diary form? - but in this case Wein met and overturned that with in-story manipulation of the relationship between the written record and the recording characters' authentic experiences. That's what I most liked about this novel. Marked as teen/YA, but I'd rate this at the more mature end for the grim experiences as a captured spy and related emotional wrecking-ball qualities.
I reread large sections of Parable of the Talents (Octavia Butler) (2000) in January. It's tempting to look at Asha's relationship with the church of her uncle in the context of race and survival in America, but this time around I paid much more attention to the connections to the eponymous parable (from Matthew 25: 14 - 30). Is Acorn Olamina's talent buried in the ground? Do Marc and Asha represent that small hoarded wealth? Taken alone, the parable strikes me as an odd act for a forgiving God, but then, no face of God in Talents is represented as primarily compassionate. Olamina's God is Change, omnipresent and impersonal; Marc and Asha's Christian American God is linked to the "hellfire and brimstone" Calvinist tradition through Olamina's narrative, and the Asha's experiences with the CA community's social mores. She also directly invokes the "Sinners in the Hands of An Angry God" sermon. Marc is seen through the recollections of his sister and niece, and only twice though his own words - in both cases, in works intended for a wider audience. And he lies - to his niece, when they meet; to his sister, about her daughter's survival. When Marc meets his sister after her abuse by members of his organization, she throws the name of his abuser in his face - Their names were Cougar, Marc. Every one of them was named Cougar! - and he walks away. Runs away, even, moving to another parish overnight. One wonders how much Marc might lie to himself, when he's balancing his options and justifying the choices he made to survive.
The ending has always struck me as sad; not the cathartic sorrow I feel when I put down The Return of the King, but a deep sadness at chosen constraint and lost possibilities, particularly for Asha/Larkin. The bulk of the narrative focuses on Olamina's journals, but the glimpses into her daughter's life are... striking. This is not a comfortable ending. But then, Parable of the Talents isn't a comfortable story.
Which reminded me that I have read books!
Code Name: Verity (Elizabeth Wein) (2012): WW2 fiction about two friends, English and Scottish, spy and pilot, and a mission in occupied France that goes sideways. Emotional wrecking-ball which had a great deal of research poured into developing a line of argument the author's story could have happened. Usually I have a great deal of trouble with epistolary fiction, as a particularly awkward format that challenges my suspension of disbelief - who really transcribes entire conversations into letter or diary form? - but in this case Wein met and overturned that with in-story manipulation of the relationship between the written record and the recording characters' authentic experiences. That's what I most liked about this novel. Marked as teen/YA, but I'd rate this at the more mature end for the grim experiences as a captured spy and related emotional wrecking-ball qualities.
I reread large sections of Parable of the Talents (Octavia Butler) (2000) in January. It's tempting to look at Asha's relationship with the church of her uncle in the context of race and survival in America, but this time around I paid much more attention to the connections to the eponymous parable (from Matthew 25: 14 - 30). Is Acorn Olamina's talent buried in the ground? Do Marc and Asha represent that small hoarded wealth? Taken alone, the parable strikes me as an odd act for a forgiving God, but then, no face of God in Talents is represented as primarily compassionate. Olamina's God is Change, omnipresent and impersonal; Marc and Asha's Christian American God is linked to the "hellfire and brimstone" Calvinist tradition through Olamina's narrative, and the Asha's experiences with the CA community's social mores. She also directly invokes the "Sinners in the Hands of An Angry God" sermon. Marc is seen through the recollections of his sister and niece, and only twice though his own words - in both cases, in works intended for a wider audience. And he lies - to his niece, when they meet; to his sister, about her daughter's survival. When Marc meets his sister after her abuse by members of his organization, she throws the name of his abuser in his face - Their names were Cougar, Marc. Every one of them was named Cougar! - and he walks away. Runs away, even, moving to another parish overnight. One wonders how much Marc might lie to himself, when he's balancing his options and justifying the choices he made to survive.
The ending has always struck me as sad; not the cathartic sorrow I feel when I put down The Return of the King, but a deep sadness at chosen constraint and lost possibilities, particularly for Asha/Larkin. The bulk of the narrative focuses on Olamina's journals, but the glimpses into her daughter's life are... striking. This is not a comfortable ending. But then, Parable of the Talents isn't a comfortable story.
Because She's a Friend...
Date: 2014-02-10 03:25 am (UTC)