Calum

Deep Simplicity is a popular science book about the theory of chaos. As always, John Gribbin presents the subject in a remarkably accessible way - the educated layperson will be able to tackle this book. However, it is not without drawbacks.

The book starts out with a concise history of mathematics relating to chaos. Gribbin begins with the Greeks and Galileo and moves onto Newton, and the issue of the three-body problem (where it is impossible to use Newton's laws of motion to generate analytical solutions to a situation in which there are three bodies of similar size affecting each other under gravity). He then talks about thermodynamics, and the concept of entropy and how this leads to an arrow of time. Gribbin also introduces an idea which he seems to be very fond of, that life is an example of using energy flow to reduce local entropy.The next section introduces some of the mathematics behind chaos. Gribbin describes how the iterative approximation techniques used in finding solutions to can never be exactly accurate. The concept of phase space, where a single point completely describes a system using multiple dimensions, is used by Poincare to deal with the problem of the Solar System's stabilty. Gradually, Gribbin brings the reader to the realisation that some systems, such as the weather, while deterministic in principle, are very difficult to predict in practice because of the non-linearity of their progression. Simply, small changes in initial conditions can lead to vastly different outcomes. Indeed, the impossibility of knowing the precise positions or momenta of anything makes such precise prediction unachievable even in principle.The idea of chaos as deterministic yet unpredictable order comes in the next section with the example of turbulence - a single parameter, the fluid speed, is changing, yet the flow changes from regular to turbulent to laminar. Additionally, the chaotic pattern appears to be fractally self-similar, like the Feigenbaum diagram describing species reproduction. Other fractals such as the Sierpinski gasket and the Cantor set are discussed, as well issues of fractal dimension. However, recognising that completely regular and completely random systems are uninteresting, Gribbin quickly ushers the reader onto the "edge of chaos, where complexity lives."The rest of the book appears to be satisfying some of the author's own interests, however. He takes many aspects of living development, including abiogenesis, Gaia systems, predator-prey relationships and more and tries to recognise chaotic patterns in them all. He notes that any such system that incoporates feedback will generate chaotic behaviour, but often there seems to be little gained from understanding that the behaviour is chaotic - for example, the idea that Ice Ages are chaotic fluctuations in a punctuated equilibrium appears to be difficult to test!

Gribbin succeeds in conveying the history and principles of chaos in his first sections, as well as their relevance to many areas of science - especially the complexities of life. However, unlike some of his other books on quantum physics, among others, I feel like this topic is one that is best dealt with in greater detail than can be used in a popular science book. Gribbin uses examples well to illustrate the points, but without understanding derivations it is hard to avoid feeling like much of the book is assumed. Additionally, it is possible to see how the book has been structured in hindsight, but while reading I felt disorientated as he jumps from one area to another. Again, understanding more about the principles behind chaos would have remedied this somewhat. An interesting read, but not as engaging as I might have hoped.

I originally picked up this book from the library as it was on a university reading list. As an interesting analysis of the concepts behind chemical reactions, I can say that its presence there is not unwarranted. Why Chemical Reactions Happen covers ideas from entropy to atomic and molecular orbitals to kinetics and energetics. Keeler and Wothers start by introducing the book as intended for those starting a university chemistry/natural sciences course, or for those who have completed A-Levels (high-school) in chemistry as a way of furthering their understanding. I think that they succeed in presenting the relevant topics to the titular question in a straightforward manner: constructing an argument as the chapters progress.

Synopsis of concepts covered
The book begins with the idea of entropy, or disorder in physical systems. The authors show how formulating the Second Law of thermodynamics in terms of net entropy increase can reveal why both endo- and exothermic processes can occur. Water freezing is an example of an exothermic process. Above 0C, the heat given out raises the entropy of the surroundings less than below 0C. Below 0C, this entropy increase outweighs the entropy decrease by the water freezing and becoming ordered. Consequently, the process only occurs below 0C. This is analogous to chemical processes, where reactions will take place only if the net entropy decreases. An endothermic process such as the dissolution of ammonium nitrate occurs because the entropy decrease due to the heat absorbed is outweighed by the decrease in order of the solute. An expression for the Gibbs energy of a system is also derived, which has the advantage that it is derived wholly from system properties. A negative Gibbs energy indicates an increase in entropy, and consequently a possible process. The result is that reactions which reduce Gibbs energy, as opposed to enthalpy, are the ones which will occur (even though many do both.)

I will just copypaste my personal summary of the book below, made as I read through for easier recall. As a summary of moral concepts, it is frustratingly dense but thankfully short. Williams spends a lot of time saying little, yet manages to condense a good deal of moral philosophy into this book. Nevertheless, a taxing read. 2/5 based on the Goodreads guidelines of “it's ok”.

Please feel free to point out if I misunderstood Williams - very likely -.-

coming soon

Molecules by P.W.Atkins is a surprisingly detailed yet accessible overview of the molecules which are important in our lives. Atkins lays out 160 molecules in these pages, divided into various categories from simple substances such as water to the complicated molecules in lipids, senses and other drugs and hormones. Each molecule is accompanied with an expanded sphere image, as well as a skeletal model for more complex organic molecules. Some education in chemical principles will help in understanding this book, but it is very good at conveying the author's passion for the subject and is a good introductory read to anyone interested in how chemistry underlies our lives. I would not recommend trying to study from the text, however - this is more light science reading. 5/5 for clear presentation and language.

An entertaining “stroll”, as the cover says, through the etymology and origins of many English words. Helps expand on your vocabulary and is chock full of random tidbits of trivia to annoy your friends with. If you have ever studied any Latin or Greek, you will be well aware that they form the roots of many English words today, but exactly how the meanings and spellings of words shift is pretty fascinating. A single event, or a single usage of a word, can set the ball rolling for a whol wave of different meanings. Not exactly burdened with a particular message or anything, this is continous links between one word and the next, easy to pick up and read for a few minutes at a time. Forsyth is humourous and keeps the subject engaging. A good read.

Ever wondered how adhesives and dyes work? How diesel and petrol engines work? Why do we get swellings, broken bones, blisters and a myriad of other questions?

The Undercover Scientist by Peter Bentley attempts to address the underlying science behind everyday workings through a day in the life of an extremely unlucky individual. The problems described are extremely varied, but the underlying science is sound and well cited. Unfortunately, the level of science is fairly varied, ranging from interesting explanations of lightning to mundane gravity. I appreciate that it is targeted at the non scientist, but the decision to force the events into a fictional day mean that there is little order to the grouping of the problems. There is an index, but I am hardly going to use this as a reference - the contents is useless since each chapter title is not particularly informative as to the matters discussed.

A fairly short and mildly entertaining read, but not challenging or interesting enough to recommend.

City of Illusions feels like it has two main sections, one much cleverer than the other. The majority of the novel is Falk's journey west, which reprises a lot of such journeys west and doesn't feel particularly engaging. Many of the events along the way don't seem to add a ton to the narrative besides giving us more time with Falk himself. The payoff comes at the culmination of the novel, where upon reaching the City Es Toch, we find that Falk is an alien from another world that sent an expedition to Earth. He has had his prior memory erased, and upon recovering it must navigate the hostile city while combining the two experiences. This is a compelling conceit, touching on questions of the sense of self and the nature of truth. I'm also intrigued by the barebones skeleton of how the League of All Worlds fell to the Shing, an enemy whose ability to lie appears to be their sole advantage. I haven't read much in the way of space war, so thinking about how an ansible-connected galactic civilisation could crumble is fascinating. I love that the Hainish universe is able to provide a setting for all sorts of different stories, including this one.

This is a serious study in how to keep a reader on edge. Maybe I'm just easily scared, but I find surprising that such a simple concept can generate such a strong reaction from me.

Four scientists are called to a crash site. It turns out to be the site of a spaceship that has been there for more than three hundred years. As they explore, mysterious events and messages begin to appear around the site of their habitat. The mission becomes a race to discover who or what is causing these attacks and why, before it kills them all.

For me, Sphere derives a great deal of its power from the veneer of science that it layers over the entire experience. We're placed among a group of intellectuals who knife away at the problems using the tools they are normally accustomed to. The origin of the ship, the nature of the codes, their mutual behaviours - I could spot no obvious, immersion breaking discrepancies and I was consequently quite vulnerable to the feelings that the book generates. Crichton uses Sphere as a way to indicate the issues surrounding alien contact, caricatured somewhat but still a real indicator to someone who is not aware of the situation. I think it would be best not take his novels too seriously, though. Not everything is quite as clear cut as he makes it out.

The other issue I would mention is the relative lack of feelings that the characters have. The main character is a psychologist, but I don't think that you can explain the weird reactions of the scientists to deaths and inexplicable events as just hiding from the reality. I think most people would have some kind of more extreme reaction than that. It makes Beth and Harry, in particular, feel like constructions more than people.

The “message” of the book then, if there is one, would probably go something like this. We're looking at a clash between the soft and the hard sciences, and their ways of interpreting problems. Norman ends up proving that the hard scientists that ignore psychology and their own psychological problems are a danger to themselves and others (although the sequence of deductions that he generates is enough to make any reader feel inadequate). The other topic is the power of the human imagination. Norman decides that the ability to control our thoughts and maintain self-control is the factor being tested by the sphere. As a species, we have to learn this kind of restraint if we are going to explore the stars.

Highly recommended if you have a little time on your hands. No literary masterpiece, but thoroughly enjoyable and it will get you thinking hard about a great deal of increasingly relevant issues.

Anybody could be invisible. The real miracle was to be known, to be loved as you were.

I think I tend to have a preference for invisibility. It's probably not my preferred superpower (that would be flight, also a revealing choice) but it's all too often I feel like being able to vanish would be the best option. I wonder what would have happened if I'd had a high school year like Maya's, or even a book like this. Perhaps I'd be a little less avoidant, or perhaps I'd just have more practice at it. The vexing thing with visibility is that I want to be seen, I want the validation just like anyone else. And yet it's agonising; every piece reminds of you of the lack, of your own awareness of your own flaws. It's particularly intolerable when it's coming from a parent, when you're their “whole hearts”. There's no other time when I want more to disappear. And yet the nature of joy is apparently wrapped up in the intolerable - the distinction from pleasure is supposed to be accepting this kind of discomfort, the pressure of becoming known. That's the miracle, if I can let it happen.

Continues on from Speaker for the Dead. Valentine and her family arrive on Lusitania, even as Starways Congress' Fleet bears down on the planet with the M.D Device. Ender is struggling under the impending doom from the Fleet, the adaptable and destructive descolada, the diplomacy between the three sentient species and the problems within his own family.

Introduces Han Qing-jao, Han Fei-tzu and Si Wang-mu, who live on the Taoist Chinese world of Path. They are given a mandate to discover the whereabouts of the Lusitania fleet after Jane hid it. Raises issues of servility, as well as the nature of religion and faith when it has been engineered into you.

Orson Scott Card expands on his idea of the philotes, indivisible particles that join and create everything real. They use this idea to permit instantaneous starflight by shifting to the Outside and back In. Possible relations to string theory? The concept of an auia, the spirit philote which represents an individual - controlling a network of smaller auias in cells etc. resembles a physical soul. Provides mechanism for Jane's emergence, and for the transfer of memories in the pequenino lifecycle.

Ender

Brief review. I felt slightly bad about the relatively low rating I have given the frontrunner of modern fantasy, but I think it should reflect how much I enjoyed it and was compelled to carry on reading it. I am probably on well trodden ground, but here goes.

Tolkien is not that great a writer. He creates an incredibly complete world with myth and history and a great deal more, and there are legions of Tolkien scholars who have ensured the consistency of the whole thing and noted the precious few places that there is a mistake. I think that Middle-Earth is certainly one of the most complete universes I have come across in fantasy. Unfortunately, what I have seen of it is still not enough. I think the books occupy a strange middle ground between a universe where you can know everything - there is a truly complete history - and ones which are content to leave you wondering. Westeros and Essos, by way of comparison, are certainly less fleshed out than Middle-Earth. Much of the history is not written, but just alluded to; many of the languages really consist of just a few words in comparison to Tolkien's tour de force that is Elvish. Yet in reading, the impression you get is not significantly different. There is still a great deal of unknown surrounding Middle Earth, and filling in the gaps with cryptic references to Valinor and Light, not to mention anythng east of Mordor, is no more satisfactory than ASOIAF's oblique mentions of ancient kings. In both cases the reader feels that there is so much more to be said.

The characters of the Fellowship are often equally bland. Aragorn is a mighty king when it suits him, but helpless the rest of the time. I don't think he mentioned any desires of his ever, not even like for food or to sit down for a time, except when he returns to the king-place with Elendil and whoever and when he makes a reference to Arwen/Eowyn - don't even know which one he likes because they haven't even been met. Legolas and Gimli are stereotypes of elves and dwarves respectively, with little individuality. Boromir is practically a non-character. I don't think Tolkien realises that saying "Boromir had a greedy glint in his eye" several times leading up to his attempt on the Ring is not actually great suspense. Gandalf is boring - he is super powerful in all respects other than those in which he needs to be. The hobbits: Merry and Pippin are just non-characters. Sam is one dimensionally devoted to Frodo, and Frodo just seems clueless the entire time. There was a brief moment when he had some resolve at the Breaking, but he was still stupid then.

There's a whole thing on heroism I'll talk about once I finish the trilogy, since that was why I started in the first place. In any case, I think this book was impressive in its scope and historical importance, and contains enough that you won't dislike reading it, but I didn't find it exciting by any other means.

Late thoughts and consequently a little less coherent. Steinbeck gets polemical, but I don't fault him in the slightest. Honestly, I don't know the mindset that would be offended by this; I could only get guilt at my ignorance and complicity. I think the scary part is the recognition of the same capitalistic impulses around us today, the xenophobia, the sense of dignity and defeat that characterises the Joads and their fellow migrants. I've read some who thought the ending was abrupt, but I feel that betrays the desire for a neat conclusion, a happy ending, some grand finale. There was no real happy ending to the Dust Bowl and Great Depression, only war; people just died, and those who killed them spewed their indignation as they continue to do now. If there's one thing that bothers me, lacking the Christian fervor, it's that I don't think the hope and threat in the title came to pass, not in the novel and certainly not in real life. The grapes of wrath didn't grow heavy in the souls of the people, mine eyes have not seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, and deliverance from oppression will not be automatic.

Read this, build some empathy, and decide what you're going to do about it.

I think I started this with more than a little suspicion as hesitation. I feel like I've generally approached science-fiction and fantasy from two directions; becoming wedded to particular authors with particular styles and devouring most of their oeuvre. But after being gifted this over the holidays I decided to try something different, and I'm certainly grateful.I think I'd mostly thought of the science-fiction and fantasy I'd read as escapist and only incidentally interesting literarily or with relevance to the present. Favourites such as [b:Hyperion 77566 Hyperion (Hyperion Cantos, #1) Dan Simmons https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1405546838s/77566.jpg 1383900] or [b:Red Mars 77507 Red Mars (Mars Trilogy, #1) Kim Stanley Robinson https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1440699787s/77507.jpg 40712] obviously have allusions, but they're not necessarily the focus and the setting is just as important. A lot of these stories, by contrast, have less to worry about in terms of worldbuilding, in terms of keeping you engaged for a multi-volume epic, and so they can play more directly with ideas. I think I appreciate this a great deal, because though not every idea resonates it's refreshing not to be reading genre fiction as fiction for the sake of being in or appealing to a genre, but fiction that uses the genre as a means to an end. I always described what I got out of SF/fantasy this way, but I think I can say it more confidently now!I'll walk through some in the collection I have relatively cogent thoughts on:The Witch of Orion Waste and the Boy Knight by E. Lily Yu absolutely nailed its tone, for me. I want to read this out loud at some point, to listen to it. It skewers the tropes of fairytale in a way I hadn't seen before, not just saying “what if we empathised with the witch” but “what does it mean to be a witch in fairytale?” Thought-provoking and enjoyable.Openness by Alexander Weinstein is one I wish was longer. Exploring the consequences of the secrets and layers and technology dependence his characters have demanded a relatively swift resolution in short-story, but (and my worldbuilder is leaking) could be an amazing setting for longer drama.Vulcanization by Nisi Shawl made me want to read more alternate-history fiction. It's easy to forget and hard to imagine the minds of colonisers of the time, and if anything I think Shawl's portrayal misses some of the likely lack of conscience/banality of the perpetrators, which might be scarier in hindsight.The Venus Effect by Joseph Allen Hill really had me questioning at first. I think I had a tendency to view metafiction as somehow easier than the regular kind, because you relinquish some of the need to allow the reader to draw their own interpretations. But what you gain, at least here, is a unusually specific and revealing understanding of the patterns of stories of police brutality, and the ways they are left out as well.In any anthology there will be some stories you like more than others, but at least I felt exposed to more niches in SF and fantasy than I had been previously, and enjoyed almost all of the stories. Excited to follow up on some of those leads!

Decent conclusion to the trilogy. I think the additional viewpoints started to become unwieldy by the end, since we're now looking at a lot more people and the story can no longer be as tightly woven as in the first two. I felt the pacing also suffered a bit, having to climax multiple times as the succession of villains was taken down. Koll and Raith were highlights here for me, with some genuine internal turmoil that was painfully precise.

Nice to get some background on the actual start of this trilogy! The book is focused on Yarvi, which fills in a lot of information about his character that we missed from the second book, where he is much more of a secondary character. Compared to the second, I didn't find the rest of the cast as compelling, and the plot felt a little more contrived, but there's still fun to be had.

This was a daunting read, but proved to be an absolute blast. I started and got stuck pretty early, but on coming back I was able to pick up the vocabulary and names a lot more easily and blasted through the rest in a few days. To be sure, this seems to happen for me a with a lot of books, so it's hard to say if this is Anathem-specific, but the ride that Stephenson takes you on is absolutely worth it.

I tried describing this book to people and struggled to get it into words, so here's my best shot. Anathem takes place on a planet similar to Earth in a lot of ways, but most notably there are orders of monastic scholars called avout that segregate themselves off from the rest of the world. We spend a good chunk of the book just figuring out how this life works and dealing with relatively petty drama, and then the plot kicks into high gear.

The first thing that distinguishes Anathem for me is the reworking of vocabulary for many common things. While obviously presenting some barrier to entry, I found this impressive because not only did the words seem like they could easily have existed in English, they reflected something interesting about how we privilege the words we happen to use. For example, “theorics” is a catch-all term that distinguishes academic/theoretical study from “praxic” or practical/actionable affairs. I found this to uniquely emphasise the thought-action distinction as central to scholarship, as opposed to the more discipline-based division we tend to talk about with phrases such as physics vs applied physics.

The other big difference is that Anathem is a book that follows nerdy scholars, and so if you happen to like literally having characters describe thought experiments to each other this book will definitely appeal. In particular, the book discusses a great deal topics on the philosophy of consciousness and thought. I have no idea what the analogues or bases are for these discussions in real philosophy, but the effect (combined with the vocabulary thing) is to make you strongly question the foundations of why you think the things you think, or what you consider to be true and real. As the book develops, this quickly becomes a feature of not just the style but the plot, but I won't spoil any more.

So we are left with a beautifully put together, rich world with good characters, infused with a heavy dose of philosophy and science. Anathem is a trip, truly, that will keep you thinking.

P.S. If I'd make one nitpick, it's that there didn't need to be a romantic subplot...

Having finally noticed that the Paolini has completed the series, after almost a decade, I decided to pick up Eragon again so I could refresh my memory of the names and events of the first two books. As a brief synopsis, Eragon is a fifteen year old boy living in a remote village. Upon discovering a dragon egg in the woods, he hatches it and becomes a new Dragon Rider, with the goal of fighting against the emperor Galbatorix's rule. He journeys away from the Empire to the hideout of the rebel Varden group, in search of sanctuary while he trains in arms and magic.It seems to me that the prevailing opinion among the more “refined” reviewers here is that Eragon is a rehash of old fantasy tropes. Although I agree that the idea of a young hero discovering a magic power/object and fighting an evil ruler is hardly original, I don't think this detracts from the enjoyment of the story itself. My favourite part of Eragon is probably the magic system. In Eragon, magic is tied to an “ancient language”, which describes things as they are - by saying something, it can be made so. The catch is that all magic requires the same effort as the actual task. Paolini has thus created a flexible yet structured magical system, which (I think) is a also a fairly original concept. The drawback is that unlike in, say, Mistborn, magical battles are less than exciting, amounting to rapid talking and thinking.The blurb mentioned that Paolini began the book at fifteen, and it shows: the writing is not often subtle and seems tailored at the young adult reader. He makes an effort at creating vivid landscapes, but too often we lose out on significant details - for example, the fact that Ajihad is black is mentioned only once and is quite easy to miss, giving a very different mental image of him and his daughter. Other problems include the fact that I still have yet to get a good idea of what Farthen Dur looks like: Paolini has a habit of skipping over gaps of space and time as people tend to “travel for three days” and appear elsewhere. Maps help alleviate this, but it still feels a little discontinuous.Nevertheless, I would still recommend reading Eragon, especially as a primer to some fantasy as it isn't a particularly taxing text. I will however be interested to see how the rest of the series goes. 3/5 for promising storyline but slightly confusing presentation.

What a weekend, getting to storm through this. I think the blurb doesn't really do it justice. Yes, this is a book about a planet where people are ambisexual, becoming male or female during each mating cycle. But I think, perhaps primed by Ursula's introduction, that it's much more an exploration about how we view each other and how we interact, not just on a gendered or sexed basis but in our whole beings. I'll pick out a few moments that grabbed me:p75 - “The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty”. Gethen is home to a cult/non-religion of the Handdara, who prize ignorance, to “ignore the abstraction, to hold fast to the thing” (p 228). This is shocking in part because of anxieties of the unknown (both my own and our societal); I think we trade on certainty a lot and the Handdarata are pushing a view that says uncertainty is actually the root of all our thought and action. Focus on uncertainty isn't new, but I'd kinda felt that it was mostly limited to recognising that some amount of it must be dealt with healthily, not actually fundamental or desired. The second line, which is referring to Estraven's desire not to accept the concept of nationhood, I take as a commitment to the real, whatever that might be, but also a focus on feeling over ideology, a . Not a philosopher, don't know who's already trodden this path, but it feels scary and also reassuring to consider what it would mean to take your actions, like Estraven, almost entirely from what you feel rather than what you think.p101 - “One is respected and judged only as a human being. It is an appalling experience.” It's interesting reading this 1969 text in a day where nonbinary genders are frequently discussed and gender confirmation is an increasingly recognised treatment. Yet despite our critiques of the gender construct, it still resonates to think about how difficult life can be when you don't have your gendered social personae to fall back on. Genly and the Investigators speculate about the effects that ending the binary has had on Gethenian society, from the level of aggression (no war), the greater focus on matters of import (Oscar Wilde: “Everything in the world is about sex, except sex”), the elimination of rape, the reduction in binary views about anything at all. But Therem notes that the I-you dualism is the older binary by far, and still very much present on Gethen. Instead, I think that the exploratory discussions of nonbinary gender and sexuality (homosexuality is noticeably missing on Gethen, unfortunately) in present society actually make the same metaphorical point that [b:The Left Hand of Darkness 118028 The Left Hand of Darkness (Hainish Cycle #4) Ursula K. Le Guin https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1519082793s/118028.jpg 817527] is making. For one, they prove that the binary is illusive; in many significant ways and places we were already somewhat androgynous. Taking the next step; it does feel appalling, terrifying, to abandon our gendered crutches. Most can't or don't want to, I certainly can't, at least not completely. But the striking thing about the Gethenians is just how normal they are, how particularly non-alien. They live and love and cry and die, and they show us that humanity is not gender, that being judged only as a human being is something we can actually do.

Completely engaging. This is a marked divergence from the more fantastical Patternist series; here Butler uses time travel as a completely unexplained mechanic to provide a uniquely sci-fi perspective on first-person slave narrative. In doing so, I think she shows us things about slave America than a contemporary account would not necessarily be able to do.

For me, the most surprising realisation was that even though we're taught about the existence of slave stereotypes, having not read first-person slave narratives before it's startling to see the ways in which characters draw from or step outside of those stereotypes. Sarah is my favourite example of this. She talks Dana down from all sorts of foolhardy choices, so we begin to think of her in an Uncle Tom kind of role, but we learn that underneath she is simmering with more anger and resentment at the loss of her children than Dana, or I, could really understand.

Other interesting points come in the relationship of Dana and Rufus; she is his savior several times over and yet is not just unable to wrest Rufus from the mindset of a white man of his time, but he actively forces her into compliance with his wishes when he sends her to bring Alice to him. Despite her self-loathing, she does as bid (as does Alice), and it is not until she is pushed to killing him that she is freed.

Kevin and Dana's differing relationships to the period are also worth looking at. Dana thinks she should be able to wrest control of the situation, but instead ends up needing to ride it out, and even then she cannot return from the experience whole. Kevin thinks himself able to manage, and does in fact survive for five years and help slaves, but Butler shows us that he doesn't have the kind of awareness of the dynamics at play. His request of Dana to scribe is eerily similar to Rufus'.

Overall, Kindred is incredibly gripping. The pacing is fantastic, episodes slowly building up, the characterisation of the cast is extremely moving, down even to more minor characters like Nigel or Tess. I read this in basically one sitting! If you want to examine our modern relationship to historical slavery, why not literally place a modern character into slavery?

I think as compared to [b:Mind of My Mind 116254 Mind of My Mind (Patternmaster, #2) Octavia E. Butler https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1389676159s/116254.jpg 111957], this novel felt a little out of left field. I think I can see where the series is headed, but to have a nominal sequel feature an entirely new cast and mechanic was jarring. I also felt that the action takes place over a strangely limited time span and area, but then I have always been a sucker for expansiveness. I think what I'm getting at with that last point though, is that the characters in [b:Wild Seed 52318 Wild Seed (Patternmaster, #1) Octavia E. Butler https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1388462753s/52318.jpg 1330000] and [b:Mind of My Mind 116254 Mind of My Mind (Patternmaster, #2) Octavia E. Butler https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1389676159s/116254.jpg 111957] change a ton because they are given the time to develop themselves. Here, it feels like in the span of a day or two Rane and Keira go from being naive and shy/foolhardy girls (despite their experience they still grew up walled and Blake says so, with the possible excuse that he would be overprotective) to managing rapid and brutal escapes from their captors. Perhaps this is me just underestimating either female characters or the ability of the alien microbe to rapidly change its hosts. Nevertheless, I think something was missing that prevented me from really getting into this one. Still a great read though, and has its moments.

I get that this is supposed to be weird. I get (some of) what the Surrealists were trying to do and the context in which they were thinking. I even kinda get the origins of this novella after reading the explanation after finishing it. It still didn't really capture me. Sure, it's fun and weird to think about this alternate history, but I couldn't really let myself float into it and allow subconscious reaction. I even tried when I couldn't relax into it, which didn't exactly help. Instead, the constant name-dropping and switches in timeline forced a constant running critic, attempting to keep track and think about whether I should have known about someone. Ultimately, an interesting piece, but only okay.

Life of Pi is a odd sort of fantasy, philosophy, adventure story that really puzzled me. Granted, I did read it in one go in about 2 hours in a sleepless haze, but nevertheless I still felt it was trying to be overtly meaningful in a counterproductive way.

Initially, I enjoyed the story. It is presented as a story by a writer who serves as a narrative voice. This writer interviews Piscine Molitor Patel, the eponymous Pi, named after a pool in France, in his middle age in Canada, with his story recalled in the first person.
The first part of the novel deals with Pi's childhood in Pondicherry, India. The two main foci are the zoo which Pi's father runs, and Pi's love of religion. Pi goes into great detail regarding the way in which the animals behave with each other - an example of rhinos cohabiting with goats is an oft-mentioned one in which animals care less for the actual species but more for the role they play. A great deal is dicussed regarding the morality of zoos and the illusion of the proud wild beast. Abruptly, we then suddenly have Pi discover that he wants to be Hindu, Christian and Muslim in quick succession, with little explanation for this devotion than "I just want to love God." I think Martel raises some provoking, albeit not original, points about atheism, morality and human behaviour - most of the time it is just not very subtle. My copy notes in the back that Martel thinks chapters 21 and 22 are particularly significant. All I really got from them is that love is a good thing, and that agnosticism (used incorrectly, as far as I can tell) is simply indecision.

The second part changes tack significantly, detailing Pi's adventures after the ship he is on sinks and he is stranded at sea on a lifeboat. I have to admit, the inital Author's Note fooled me slightly, so I was not wholly sure whether the novel was based on a real story or not. From my ignorant viewpoint, Martel presents an initially fairly realistic description of open-sea survival. Pi wakes in the storm and ends up the next day in the lifeboat with a hyena, a zebra, an orang-utan and a lion called Richard Parker. Pi has a period of fear and shock while the animals devour each other gruesomely, leaving only Richard Parker. Using supplies on the lifeboat, Pi is then able to build a small raft to be safe from the lion as well as collect fresh water and fish for food. Eventually though, he pulls on his zoo experience and establishes him as the dominant "lion" in their relationship. They travel, with vivid descriptions of storms, wildlife, and Pi's feelings. At one point, he notices Richard Parker has gone blind, and he soon follows. He comes across another castaway, who boards and tries to eat him but is mauled by Richard Parker. They then find some kind of floating acid algae tree island, which apparently lures fish to be dissolved and eaten. Eventually they find their way to Mexico.

I mentioned that I found the story initially convincingly realistic. I suspect the absurdity of Pi's adventures towards the end of the novel was intended as some kind of point - when being interrogated in hospital, Pi tells two versions of his story - one without animals and one with, the former being far more acceptable to the shipping company. Perhaps the point is that it doesn't matter whether it is true or not? Pi says only: “So it goes with God.”. The events also seem to conspire at the end to make it impossible to check the veracity of Pi's story - Richard Parker disappears almost immediately on reaching land and the boat shows only some remnant bones.

Other things strike me as odd. The character of Mamaji, or Francis Adirubasamy, seems to me to exist purely to decieve the reader. His entire contribution is to provide a pretext for the author/narrator to find out about Pi's story, and to provide the provenance for Pi's curious name. Teasing related to the name also makes up a portion of the first part. Perhaps it is for “character development”? The initial author's note claims that the story will “make you believe in God”, yet the initial focus on Pi's religious fervor disappears almost completely. Pi makes no thought comments about being driven by God, or inspired by God - he instead places the cause of his survival on Richard Parker. Equally, the “love” that is apparently so important is absent towards the end of the book - who is Pi going to love other than a tiger? Does God work through Richard Parker? Pi does have a delusional episode in which he “talks” to Richard Parker. My impression is that Pi survives because of his own determination, knowledge and tenacity - undermining this divine aspect somewhat. The tendency of Pi to hoard food following his experience - cookies in the hospital, canned goods in Canada - also seems to be meaningless or vague to the point of it.

My final impression is that Life of Pi is a novel which perhaps too hard to try something. Unlike say, Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, I felt like I was having meaning and depth forced at me rather than subtly. It makes it impossible to try to take the novel at face value as an adventure narrative - the fantastical island and similar events mean that the reader ends up having to try and decipher “deeper” meaning from the text. 3/5 for an enjoyable, albeit ultimately frustrating read.

Conflicted about this one. I came into this only having read [b:Snow Crash 830 Snow Crash Neal Stephenson https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1477624625s/830.jpg 493634] by Neal previously, and a long time ago at that. He has a digressive style of providing oodles of backstory in a convoluted way only to arrive, a few pages later, at the actual point. I think I loved this in the beginning of the book, when we are meeting characters and want to get to know them; it felt like a real understanding of the characters and a unique and fun way of showing who they were and why they do what they do. However, especially at the end it started to bog down the pacing. At a point in a thriller I think I want to just move along and reach a conclusion, but we still get exposition late in the game and it becomes overwhelming. This is despite having so much backstory, the characters still end up following the plot lines in a slightly contrived way, and it isn't clear to me at least why certain pairings or actions are taken except to ensure that everyone is where they needs to be for the book to conclude.That said, the central sequences were brilliant and I enjoyed it mostly because of them. The twists there were great. I wish they had extended through to the end.

This novel is masterful. Roy's prose is poetry, or near as. With coinages, imagery, and heartbreaking emotion, she transports you to rural Kerala and places you among the cast of the novel across the generations they span. I've just put the book down, and am attempting to extinguish the lingering feeling of oppressive, impending doom that has sat with me throughout the book. More incredibly to me, I enjoyed it, as someone who tends to avoid doom and its impending arrival at as many opportunities as possible. Roy boldly tells you what is going to happen in the very first pages, and unfolds the path to get there beautifully, keeping you entranced not by suspense but with the weight of inevitability. I didn't think it would work until I read it.

Inevitability is not just the feeling of the book, it's also a theme. There is history, and there is History. We might take the former as a set of facts, and the latter as facts personified, empowered to affect the ways in which we live. The titular God of Small Things is a the personal tragedies that fall victim to History, when the things we want and need are unreachable because of History's designs and strictures. How free are we, when we live amidst ideology, tradition, family, society? Are we free to live, to love? I won't say this novel gives me hope that we are. I don't even think it makes it clear that we will be; this is a tragedy and History can be ruthless with those that rebel against it. What it does do, is remind me that we should be, because the cost of living constrained thus is far too high a price to pay.