BOOKs | Framework

Timeline ~ Michael Crichton
Planning to read.

•••½

Life Itself ~ Roger Ebert
My first stab at an autobiography or a memoir; and in the case of Roger Ebert, the professional reviewer becomes the reviewed, and so I am humbled. First few chapters feel like the voiceover of the movie Stand by Me, as Roger artfully describes his youth beginning from the moment of sentience. The rest seems very anecdotal: the book is very nonlinear, and each chapter tackles a different, although never entirely unrelated subject, and I was harried to find any sort of flow or rhythm.

Writing came naturally to him as he was always an avid reader — as a boy his nose was firmly planted in a book, and he lists his favourite authors and publications of that era. He describes his home and office as they are now, being laden with books of varying sorts and types, strewn in stacks all over. He confesses to forming a treasure-like attachment to each, and therefore has a hard time let go of any one. The journalism bug nipped at him early in life. Even then he somehow managed to sit down with some important figures of the time. He tended to gravitate to the free-thinking liberals, and beatniks of his college years, was heavily involved in his college paper, among other extra-curricular activities; some time after which he landed a cool gig as the Chicago Sun-Times film critic.

Gene Siskel got his own chapter, which describes the outset of their partnership as something to effect of difficult to impossible — one that lacked any chemistry between them. Their now-highly-revered, multi-incarnation movie show wasn't exactly smooth sailing at first either, especially for Roger, who didn't exactly have a natural on-camera demeanor. However, over time, the two developed a very high level of respect for the other. I got the impression that they were never the best of friends, but there was a friendship there nonetheless.

Roger really opens up about his ordeal with thyroid cancer, about the many failed reconstructive surgeries that left the lower part of his face a mangled mess; his understandable depression throughout all of it, and about his wife/life partner, to whom he gives sole credit (doctors aside) for his recovery. He's also candid about his continued struggles with alcoholism: when and how it started, and the fact that it's on-going and unending. Socially his mother was a lively and lovely woman who was well liked, but liked the sauce, and was a key sources of Roger's pain (he stresses, though, that her exaggerated character flaws were the result of her own alcoholism): she was a staunch catholic with dreams of eventually giving her son over to the cloth, the clergy, to priesthood to better serve god. All the while, ironically (or not), this push ultimately led to his complete shedding of religious belief — of religion altogether, which he claims was a very natural process stemming from early in his life. The lack of any logic just kept nagging at him, for he was always an analytical thinker.

T'was a tad funny to see that there's actually an About the Author section at the very end. The cover, by the way, is a thing of beauty: a film-noir representation of that for which Ebert is most known. Kudos to the designer.

I believe too much of this book is spent chronicling all the times he was hobnobbing with [high] people (you know what I mean) in high places, and detailing all the people with whom he's formed close bonds. Chapters like 'Lee Marvin', 'Robert Mitchum', 'Martin Scorese', 'Big John Wayne', 'Bill Nack', 'Werner Herzog' and 'Russ Meyer'; in which he describes at length his deep friendship with the notorious celebrity, as well as the ways and means of the man himself, Roger's own stint at scripting Meyer's Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, and time spent on the sets of the infamous flesh flicks.

Why did I read this one? I've been a reader of Roger's columns, be they his movie reviews or his online journal entries, for some years now, and I always found them intelligent and thought-provoking with a very personal flair; and he admits to as much in the book, and it's what makes his writings so interesting. Also, I'd find myself most often agreeing with whatever he's saying about a given topic. Overall, the author does too thorough a job here and I was left wanting not more, but less.

It just wasn't as interesting as, say, Michael Crichton's early autobiographical journey Travels, which, despite its surprising spiritual undertones, was heavy on adventure, excitement and philosophy. This, on the other hand, tends to meander back and forth through time, recounting much of the seemingly mundane details of the author's life. I found myself wanting to rush through it. Although, to be fair, the writer here does a fair bit of philosophizing, himself; and when all is said, Life Itself is an interesting read. There is something I've taken away from it.

The book signing took place at the exact same location as the one for War. When Roger appeared hobbling down the isle to take his seat, I was taken aback at how feeble and frail he now looks, and I think he caught that in my eyes when he glanced at me — I instinctively returned a pity-grimace with a nod. Or perhaps I'm not exactly the demographic he's targeting. At the time I didn't understand the extent of the physical and, therefore, mental stresses he's gone through; but there's a constant smile on his face that's reflected in the book's positive outlook. When it was my turn to meet the man, I handed him my purchased copy and he signed only his name on the title page, after which he reluctantly took my extended hand in what would pass for a "shake". I looked at him and mouthed the words "thank you" as clearly as I could before sauntering off.

It wasn't until the post-Siskel era, well after Gene had died of brain cancer in 1999, that I happened to start watching their movie show on a regular basis. By then it was called Ebert & Roeper. Often I would go back in time on Youtube to watch the reviews I had missed of my favourite films. The dynamic between the two was something to behold as they would most often (not always) have obstinately differing or opposing views on any given film. And while each of their arguments was just as intriguing, I almost always found myself siding with Roger. So it's no wonder, when I look for a professional opinion on something I've seen or am going to see, I turn to the most highly rated critic of all.

•••••

The Picture of Dorian Gray ~ Oscar Wilde
This is the complete and unabridged text, which includes Wilde's De Profundis, The Ballad of Reading Goal (neither of which I was interested in reading), and "detailed explanatory notes…". It is the Simon & Schuster enriched classic.

Yes, I've read one of those "high society books". What can one say about this that hasn't already been said by more intelligent reviewers, book club members and essayists? How about simply one's own humble impressions?

Dorian Gray, a flawlessly handsome, young man sits to have his portrait painted. The resulting picture is a masterpiece. Dorian Gray is an impressionable young man who is lured, seduced, enchanted by various, compelling notions, ideas, opinions and philosophies about the advantages of youth and the importance of its preservation, and the [contemporary] theories about aestheticism (a primary theme) of his good friend and confidant, Lord Henry Wotton (or Wilde himself).

Dorian Gray is given a "little yellow book" (a reference to Joris Karl Huysmans's À Rebours) on the subject that consumes him whole, and for the next eighteen years he would undergo a transformation from a charming, naïve innocence into an object to be admired, both for its beauty and its ageless/timeless quality (chapter 11 depicts this beautifully); while beneath the surface something loathsome grows. He would completely devote himself to the experiences of the arts, be they visual or auditory, and shallow pleasures in general — sensory satisfaction — essentially living [life] as [a work of] art (another major theme). He'd become a collector of a great many rare fabrics, tapestries, jewels and various items of greater worth. He would inflate his own ego by comparing himself to the infamous figures of human history, even somehow convincing himself to be part of their familial lineage — a descendent; all the while nourishing his descent into the dark pits of hedonistic depravity and mortal sin. He would frequent seedy whore houses and opium huts, and adopt a trait that is increasingly sadistically cruel.

The portrait, hidden away in a nearly empty, seldom visited room on the upper level of the house, shows all the wears and scars of a toilsome life, while Dorian Gray himself remains as unmarked as he appeared upon the painting of the picture lo those many years ago; just as he'd wished at the time. The picture now serves as a harsh reminder of what he truly is — the thing he has become. It has turned into the very source of all his burden and torment; which he had relegated to himself as their sole bearer. He wouldn't dare show his secret, reveal his shame to anyone, which would in turn give his lifestyle and continued degeneration license.

In a sudden burst of anger he kills his good friend, Basil Hallward for the attribution of being the cause of all his grief, as the painter himself. Dorian Gray had finally graduated to murder, but he hadn't completely developed the stomach for it yet, and it only helped to sharpen his pain that much more, for the picture has never been as ugly. By the end he was so irredeemable that even his last [attempted] act of goodness turned out to be purely selfish. He made the effort, but it was too late and lame. Dorian Gray was left a hollow shell of an aesthetically sublime man.

I can't really comment on Wilde's writing style as I've read nothing from any of his peers, expect to say, if only to nitpick, that the title character's name almost always appeared in full, as if the reference would've been lost upon us otherwise. Set and written in Victorian-era England, this book was apparently one of the catalysts of Wilde's ruin for its controversial subject matter and homoerotic allusions.

The book possesses the most impressive ending I've ever read. I've read it twice (about ten minutes apart), each time an acute chill going through me.

Supplemental: The enriched edition contains Questions for Discussion and Suggestions for the Interested Reader sections (among others). The former asked Can you think of any modern parallels to Dorian's story? Immediately I thought of the book I've read several years back — one of my very favourites — and it's quite possibly the reason I was drawn to Dorian Gray… And to my delight, the latter concludes the book with this:

American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. This book, like Dorian Gray, was very controversial when it came out because the young, well-educated, handsome protagonist murders indiscriminately and without emotion. Many have argued that the novel is a critique of the society that produces him.

While the events in my previous book Prey, take place within about a week, those in this span several lifetimes long; and despite its fewer page-count, it feels almost exhaustively eventful. Replay takes a fairly standard science fiction phenomenon and applies it beautifully to the writers own sense of philosophy about (the meaning of) life. It is its own beast, but one way to describe it would be that it's a balanced blend of such popular works of fiction, albeit nonliterary, as Back to the Future for the time travel element, Groundhog Day for the looping element, Forrest Gump for its eventful nature and the recent Tree of Life for its panoramic philosophy.

I mentioned two Robert Zemeckis films so I suppose it's not exactly irony that at the time of this writing (August 2011), he was slated to helm Replay's film adaption. Being a Zemeckis fan myself it is how I got wind of this extraordinary piece of work.

The aforementioned phenomenon is really an amalgam of two because not only is Jeff Winston reliving his life (several times over), he's doing so with all knowledge and memories of his previous replays intact, which has both positive and negative aspects. On the one hand nothing is new to him anymore: he's heard all the songs of the era, seen all the films and possesses prescience of upcoming world events... On the other, this knowledge can be very helpful in that he doesn't have to worry about money as he knows exactly which horse to bet on and what stock to invest in to live some very comfortable lives. While it starts out as a play for personal gain, it leaves him hollow. He'll try to leave some sort of a positive impact on the world, e.g., the aversion of the Kennedy assassination, only to find heavy and miserable apathy in its futility.

The relationships with the many women he'll have are both very shallow, very deep and the various degrees in between; and Jeff will fully exploit them all for what they are worth. He'll have lots of meaningless sex and meaningful relationships; and with great gains will come great losses...

To a hard-science fiction/fact reader like myself, an explanation to the presented phenomenon would be welcome. However, this is wisely omitted (notwithstanding the characters' natural seeking of it) as this is not the point and it would have wrongly shifted focus from the book's message — whatever that is to the reader. Grimwood uses a lovely, artistic, almost poetic style of writing from page one. My only quip would be that there isn't a word of notice when starting in on a new time & place, or "replay" (begins exponentially further ahead in Jeff's original timeline with each). There is some toying with the reader as the only way to shake off the initial confusion each time is to read on.

I'd love to replay my life several times over again - a very different part, though, if I were given a choice: my childhood — the best part of anyone's life. I remember a time when everything was ahead of me, and very little behind; when the world seemed so large it was infinite in space & time.

I'd imagine myself as a kid, maybe 5 or 6, looking up at everything, just teeming with boundless vim, energy and vigourous optimism. I can see and feel the setting sun wash over me as I run through a vast expanse of golden tall grass, trying to conquer the big rolls of hey that cast the longer shadows. It's the epitome of freedom.

Please, can I replay that? But I'm not sure whether I'd want to retain the memory of all my replays each time. I would love to experience that again - as if it were brand new; or perhaps with the faintest hint of nostalgia — a déjà-vu.

On the cover we're asked an intriguing question, which requires some thought to answer as truthfully as possible: What if you could live your life over again? And again? And again?

This time written by a man, the book is still heavily centered on the very theme of romanticism; a theme I was hoping to more or less avoid, having already read The Time Traveler's Wife; and yet I was perfectly fine with the reoccurring theme of involuntary time travel.

Replay is about a life thoroughly lived: sometimes well, sometimes poorly, but always truly. It's about a balancing act of the hills and valleys we face over the course of our lives; the point is to make it count. If I were to play "word association" at the mention of this book, my word would be..."choices". Although Jeff didn't choose his plight, he can still choose to make the best of it.

Does anyone remember a short-lived and (therefore) good 2007 show called Journeyman?

A small team of scientific and technological engineers actually achieve the longstanding human quest to create functioning robots at the molecular scale. However, this is not free-floating experimentation, and the outcomes are less than perfect. Under constant pressure from investors and the higher-ups, the team will cut corners and take unwise risks in its haste to push something out the door and keep funding flowing.

About a headlong foray into the little-charted territory of radical, new age science (which I think would inspire MC's next venture, dealing predominantly with corrupt and junk science within the context of climate change).

The potential implications of this enterprise, and their near realization were staggering and exciting: initially meant as a super-high resolution imaging system for use in the military and to make surgical procedures less "invasive". This new tech is impressive. Not only for its microscopic size, but also for how they're created, mass-produced and interact. Yes, each tiny bot can interact with one another by a process called "distributed intelligence", that is, each particle needs its siblings in order to function as a mere synapse of a much larger neural net. I could write on, but to keep this somewhat concise, this "swarm" (as it behaved) of a brain contained code that gave it the ability to learn [the 'bottom up' approach, as opposed to rules-based programming known as the 'top down' approach] (enter: the protagonist) modeled after predator/prey dynamics. The slope turned slippery when the system became complex enough to allow for some evolutionary growth. Moreover, it was uncontrolled, and the pace of its growth became so rapid that it adapted to tolerate and overcome almost any measure to disable or destroy it, eventually becoming not only self-sustaining, but reproductive.

I can appreciate these implications and the dangers of rapidly advancing technology, and to its credit, the concept grows more tangible with each passing year, but I had somewhat of a difficult time acknowledging the characters' peril during their ordeal because their adversary, the swarms of intelligent nanoparticles, were essentially some clouds of dust. The anthropomorphic element was missing for a much-too-large portion of the book (although I like to think that I've matured beyond such a need), but then the story's (and characters') natural progression would've been compromised.

I haven't yet figured out why the numbers 6 and 12 are somehow significant. The chapters are divided up into days, the longest of which is day 6, so there were several of that, accompanied by a timestamp, most of which contain the number 12, such as 7:12am or 4:12pm.

Narration style is very different here, for MC employs the first-person POV as we're meant to take on the role of the protagonist trying to solve a mystery. The day-to-day format becomes hour-to-hour in act 2 (day 6). We feel like we're in the moment, but every so often we're reminded that these are past events being recounted. Although, I suppose a retrospective viewpoint would allow for, say, a regretful tone and the conveyance of learned information, and it gives the effect of some incredibly vivid and detailed journal entries. It just seems this was decided upon late in the writing.

The novel's structure is similar to that of Sphere, even in terms of theme, such as excessive isolation, the petty human conflicts that arise within it, the gender role reversal (a prominent subject in Travels), and the way it ends; among other things typical of an MC book. The talking points remain broad enough to keep just about anyone enthralled. For example, he make a commentary on humanity's failure to act upon a potential crisis until it's too late. They say hind sight is 20/20, but nobody ever bothers to learn from it — to learn from the previous generations' mistakes and errors...

The reader learns about the evolution of the theory of evolution [359], the graceful cooperation of our body parts to constitute the body at large, and of the processing power of the conscious and subconscious brain [374]. And if the concept of distributed intelligence didn't seem plausible, Crichton elaborates [395] by reminding us of our own fallacy that a "central command" or a main governing unit is needed within any group of organized life forms to stay organized, which he explains isn't true at all; and the fact that we humans generally don't think in evolutionary terms [468/9]...

The book really hits its stride in the latter part of the section called Nest. It is smooth as silk to read, there were cliffhangers at the end of each passage, and the story was so compelling, pacing being near perfect, that I did not want to put it down. But I did. I read a large section every day because I believe a (good) book is meant to be enjoyed over an average period of two to four weeks, not in one or two "sittings", or roughly not much longer than it takes to watch a movie. At such speeds you're rushing, not savouring.

As Crichton takes a cue from real world trends, the novel features a lengthy introduction (as many MC novels do — which I love) on the flawed realities and the history of the subject at hand; and the encompassing big picture is presented as a cautionary lecture. The ending connects the remaining loose ends nicely, and wraps it all up in a neat little package with a red ribbon bowtie.

Starts off by bringing us up to speed on the history of physics and its ushers, and from there we read about the differences between classical Newtonian physics (the apparent laws of nature) versus quantum mechanics. We learn about the "double slit experiment", which exemplifies the behaviour of quantum particles — interference/wave patterns; that light behaves like a wave and also as a particle: the photon boson that "carries the electromagnetic force"...

Chapter 3 asks What is reality? We observe a "model-dependent reality", which is to say it is impossible for one to observe reality directly and objectively, especially since we are a part of the reality being observed; and our brain will try to clarify an inherently distorted image of reality given to it by our tools of observation, the five senses. It is an argument for the idea that everything is relative, and once again a commentary on perception: one's perceived reality cannot be more or less true than another's. This brings back to mind the age-old philosophical adage: If a tree falls in the forest, and no one's around to hear it, does it make a sound? So to that I would answer ... it doesn't matter. In fact, early in the book it makes a bold statement that "philosophy is dead." Well, for its own purposes it is. Although, the spiral symbol for Pantheism frequently appeared. Anyway, I think what they really wanted to write, but dared not, was that "God (or Religion) is dead."

There is the topic of the intertwined relationship between space and time (spacetime) where time is said to be the fourth dimension. We exist in the three large space dimensions, (the only ones in which stable orbits are possible). The relatively recent String Theory, in which force particles (bosons) actually are, or act as vibrating lines, suggests (and only holds together with) the existence of 10 dimensions; while M-theory proposes an 11th — most of which are "curled up" and unobservable — and asserts that strings are instead 2-dimensional "membranes". M-theory hopes to be the ultimate theory of everything by unifying the four forces of nature: gravity, electromagnetism, the weak nuclear force (plays a vital role in the formation of elements in stars and the early universe) and the strong nuclear force (holds together the protons and neutrons of a nucleus and the quarks of a proton and neutron).

The issue of "the beginning of time" is addressed in the following manner: general relativity along with quantum theory can explain that in the very early universe time was "warped" to such an extent that it behaved like a fourth space dimension, and thus histories become "closed surfaces", which is then referred to as the "no-boundary condition", and so the issue itself becomes moot.

The multiverse was analogized to a pot of boiling water, in which tiny bubbles, or universes would form, and once big enough to remain stable, they would undergo a period of rapid expansion. This expansion is what's known as inflation, which, they say, had to have occurred at a rate much faster than the speed of light for a reason lost on me at the moment. The CMBR (cosmic microwave background radiation) is a residual substance that is more or less uniform across our universe, surrounding all celestial bodies. It is apparently cooling, and said to be evidentiary, along with the ever-increasing rate of universal expansion, of the Big Bang. At this point, dark matter or dark energy pops to mind — sadly this topic wasn't covered.

There are the bottom-up and the top-down approaches to the history of the universe: the former is mapping this history from the Big Bang forward in time, which would yield one, definite history; the latter is to trace it from the present time backward, using the Richard "Feynman sum over histories", which, as I understand it, allows for the existence of all possible histories (under quantum mechanics) (not to be confused with the multiverse concept), the probabilities for which can then be calculated... The book then goes on to describe the precise and delicate chain of events that led to our existence — to the possibility of life on (at least) this planet; from the formation of stars to our solar system to Earth's inhabitance of the "goldilocks zone" allowing for liquid water, one of the key ingredients of life; ending with an explanation of how complex enough systems can evolve over time to be more complex.

Among the many physicists or critical thinkers of the past, and there are many notables listed such as Aristotle, Galileo and Newton, I find the revelations of Einstein most intriguing because the sum of his theories, I will postulate, seems to have made the greatest leap forward towards modern physics. The contribution he has made to the ways in which you and I live our lives today is enormous! His ideas were bold and groundbreaking, especially without the stigma of having been mired in fervent religious controversy at their time like those of some of his predecessors; e.g., special relativity (no ultimate reference frame for an absolute state of rest), general relativity (the description of gravity as the curvature of spacetime) and the genesis of the 'theory of everything'.

Anecdote: I always knew this book would attract the eye for polarizing reasons. Once again on public transit (subway toward work) I was engrossed in one of the many passages I read a few times over, when a jovial fellow twenty-something male poked me on the shoulder and expressed interest in the book. He wanted to know how it compared to the other books he'd read by Hawking. I was just finishing up chapter 4 (roughly the middle) and I replied that this is the only book from him I've read (so far) and added that I find it highly fascinating and would highly recommend it! He then apologized for having interrupted me, to which I said "no problem" and continued on reading. At other times I would catch people glancing at the cover and I would imagine, depending on the type of person or the restrained expression on their face, the kind of reaction they are internalizing at that moment, be it an interest in- or a shunning of the material, and I would in turn internalize a smirk.

I saw the authors interviewed on Larry King Live along with other guests like Deepak Chopra in mid to late 2010 (one of Larry's final interviews). I've been enamoured by the wonders of science for some time now, so to put it simply I couldn't wait to pick this up. This is well worth owning, but science is ever-advancing!

This is an interesting, and at times fascinating look at the lives and the day-to-day struggles of American soldiers in the Afghan war of the first decade of the twenty-first century.

Sebastian Junger goes on a broken-up, several-months-long mission to find the minds of these young marines, and impart that understanding to the general public back home. He ensconces himself among the fighting men, and is given little to no special treatment other than the basic considerations afforded to him as an untrained, middle-aged (at least by army standards) journalist.

Living conditions are almost unimaginable and the firefights themselves are hellish, but the real anguish here is of a mental kind. The soldiers exist in opposing extreme states: those of adrenaline (and blood) -soaked combat and excruciating boredom. During their down time they'd engage in sleep, introspection and the sorting through of heightened emotions to lewd and crude jokes, general indecency, vulgarity and even homoerotic activity; essentially 'odd and uncivilized' behavior to you and me — almost anything to help kill the hours between flare-ups. The descriptions for which were beautifully vivid.

The men were required to come to terms with their own mortality in order to perform effectively on the battle field. Because to agonize or brood over the traumatic proximity of death can render that man, not only less effective or even useless, but a danger to the rest of the unit, for which there is zero tolerance! There is the inherent fear that, to some degree, must be overcome and so too the trapping of paralysis by analysis. But there is nothing these men will not do for one another. Each would lay down his life to save a fellow brother-in-arms without hesitation, because to live knowing that another's death was caused- or could've been prevented by you is a fate much worse than nothingness or the notion of ceasing to exist, or prolonged, physical and/or crippling, intense pain for that matter. And injury will not keep them sidelined for long, for they all share an unwavering sense of pride, duty and loyalty to the brotherhood — there is an almost immoveable strength in their bond. There is also a profound sense of humility and humbleness in each, and at such a level that can only be attained when the human spirit (figuratively speaking) is tested in conditions of war (in its purest form). They feel discomfort in being called heroes, and maintain that anyone else would've performed the same act of what you and I call 'courage' or 'bravery' because this is their job, this is what they were trained to do. They have no interest in the politics behind what they do. The focus is on the ultimate goal: defeat the bad guys. But when that's accomplished, then what? Go home and live a normal life? Assimilate back into regular society? Many of them, if not most, will reenlist for reasons the book will better explain. I think the clinical term for this used to be 'shellshock'.

The book is loosely centered on a soldier called O'Byrne, and keys in on other interesting characters as well. It tells of many firsthand, close-combat experiences and brushes with death, and eloquently states that war is hell, and gets a good feel for the minds of its American participants. However, I wanted to like this more than I did — somehow expected more from it. I'm not exactly sure whether the intended message gets across, but I do appreciate it for trying, and it makes a decent effort at that. There is an understated difference between Junger's experience and that of the reader, but I could not question his credibility.

Anecdote: at the book signing in midtown Toronto (in late 2010) there was some moron who asked whether the companion film, Restrepo is the same experience as the book; that moron was me. The author went on to talk about the narration style and to say he wanted a gritty, in-your-face documentary type of storytelling, as opposed to a more disconnected "Hollywood movie" with, say, Morgan Freeman voiceover-narrating a bunch of clichés at the viewer. What I really wanted to know was whether it was the same story (O'Byrne's) — I didn't clarify.

I was early to arrive at the signing so I sat down inside a makeshift classroom setting on the lowest level of a relatively large bookstore after grabbing a copy of the novel, and waited patiently for Junger's appearance. When he did so he proceeded to give a rather insightful taste of what was to be found in his new book, offering examples of funny exchanges with- and raw, firsthand firefights alongside the men with whom he was stationed, statistical data and one or two passages from selected pages. After the lecture, time for questions was given to the floor, after which I quickly purchased the copy in my hand and lined up to get the thing signed. My mini conversation with the author could've been more intellectual and/or politically driven (which the book is not!); instead I offered examples of similar and comparable novels I'd read — The Thin Red Line and Black Hawk Down. In response he humoured me and asked whether I've seen the films.

He starts by describing his days as a medical student at Harvard (the 60s), his ultimate disillusionment with it and why he quit medicine to pursue his passion for writing. He gives several examples of the impersonal nature of the treatment of patients (being treated as lab rats) in a hospital setting; the band aid solutions handed out as quick and temporary fixes (keeping the patient ill and the pharmaceutical industry thriving), never diagnosing the root of a given problem. After taking the time to speak with some of the patients, he's come to take the stance that much of what ails us, be it a heart attack or cancer, stems from our state of mind at a given time such as grief or trauma. Also the things we put in our bodies, be it fast food or pills — we are the cause of our disease to put it succinctly. Overall this might have been the catalyst for his exploration of the powers of the mind.

The subsequent chapters are a collection of highly entertaining anecdotes of his experiences (primarily) in foreign lands; and are only cohesive in the final chapter's summation. In spite of this kind of structure I kept wanting to read on. The stories are just too interesting...perhaps partly because they're set in the context of reality. The first few of these document (with incredible detail) the trips to some exotic locales: swimming with sharks, deep sea diving, seeing a rare turtle, the fabled Shangri-La, tribal war (highlighting some of the radical differences between a given culture's perception of the other), seeing rare apes & working with snakes (the perception of fear), filming projects (basic human interactions), a dangerous encounter in Jamaica, the role reversal of the genders in mating in changing times (the 80s) — relationships...

Crichton then ventures into the realm of mysticism and "supernatural" phenomena where he investigates via first-hand participation some of the things that science, as of yet, hasn't had the means to objectively study, with a rational open-mindedness. These are "Cactus teachings", meditation, chakras, the Chinese i ching (incidentally, generously quoting from the famous, ancient Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu), psychics, clairvoyance, channeling, seeing auras, the 'astral plane', spoon bending, and several other conferences and retreats of the like. A rich variety of subjects are touched upon (as places visited) in a sort of retrospective monologue directed at the reader — journal entries made public.

The book would've received a 3.5 rating from me were it not for the final chapter, cleverly titled Postscript: Skeptics at Cal Tech. There MC delivers a speech to its students about the duality of human perception, and their practicality. The author being a man of science, I was surprised to find him make such a strong argument, not necessarily for these phenomena, but at least for organic thought, in a sense, as opposed to the random, mathematical view of the workings of the universe of hard scientists; and the need of the physicist to unify 'everything'. While it is true that science and mysticism naturally take opposing sides (especially when individuals or groups thereof devote a large part of their identity to one side), Crichton stresses the importance of both in different ways. There needs to exist a balance between them that's not necessarily equal, but at least moderate. There is much more to his case, but my words are too inadequate here.

I suppose that the underlying, encompassing theme of this book, if it's not apparent by now, is perception. Just because one's view of the world may differ from yours, it doesn't necessarily mean that one of you is right and the other is, by default, wrong. It only means that you both adhere to different perspectives or vantage points.

There is a healthy dose of skepticism on the part of the writer, and it tries to refrain from preaching.

An Uruguayan rugby team, along with some family and friends, fly toward Chile for a game. But fate gets in the way: putting them through one of the most harrowing experiences ever — both physically tolling and mentally trying; and that's an understatement.

They were well into the Andes mountain range when the plane went down. Visibility was poor and flying altitude was lower than conceived. The crash split the plane in two, and some of the passengers died instantly. Those who didn't were either in a state of shock or lying injured and in pain or were otherwise relatively okay. The ones that were okay immediately started helping those that were not get acclimated to their new accommodations. For shelter all they had was the front half of the plane, which they effectively sealed at night by stacking luggage. As one can expect, living conditions were henceforth harsh, and they made the best of their situation by making good use of the resources they had at their disposal.

What they were equipped with was a limited supply of food, chiefly in the form of candy and liquor (along with some cigarettes), which they had to ration; some extra layers of clothes; a compass; a radio; and vast amounts of snow. What they were unknowingly faced with was an extended stay in their current predicament: sleep was very uncomfortable in the tight confinement of the hollowed-out shell of the fuselage; it was always extremely cold, especially when the sun was gone and the blood was calm — they'd rely on body warmth, and massage or stomp on each other's extremities to increase blood flow. The injured were tended to and were given special consideration for sleeping arrangements and rationing. The snow had to be melted before consumption, and was a task in itself.

Adding to their suffering was the heavy blow of an avalanche (killing several of them), and the constant threat of more thereafter. Also on occasion, planes would fly over them, but each time the plane would fly right by and the boys would remain unseen. The disheartening false alarms and false hopes were, I'm sure, just as bad as any other hardship. But despite all this and the personal differences and tiffs, they were able to band together and persevere. Their compassion for one another was touching, putting the needs of their neighbour ahead of their own. And it must be noted that they had maintained an impeccable level of organization.

As the weeks passed with no sign of help at all, rations, along with their collective morale, were running out. It was a steady mental and physical decline. They'd resorted to eating any chewable object they could find just to fill their bellies. Some of them had by now succumbed to injury or starvation and this meant extra clothes and rations for the living, but it was little consolation for what that ultimately meant.

It took a lot for those that remained to start eating the flesh of their dead companions. Some were more repulsed at this notion than others and would almost rather starve than do something so extreme. Moreover, they were concerned about how it would look in the eyes of God: cannibalism versus suicide. Eventually they were forced to consume more than just the meat on the bones.

It took several weeks of cold, thin and sobering mountain air to dawn on the boys that rescue was not coming (and rightly so because time rapidly eats away expectations for survival); so it was time to get proactive. They selected the healthiest and fittest among them for an expedition to find help. All they knew is that they apparently passed Curicò, and that Chile was to the west.

The book is an excellent character examination: studying each one's strengths & weaknesses, the virtues & flaws of their temperaments. I found myself in one or two of them.

After seventy one days only sixteen of the original forty five had survived. The experience had reshaped their individual and collective sense of self, values and principles. They gained a new perspective on life — one that's devoid of superficialities and triviality. And an unbreakable bond had formed among the survivors — the kind that only spawns after overcoming incredible odds to stay alive.

It is the tale of 'the hunt for the world's greatest outlaw' as told by a journalist.

Pablo Escobar was a man of humble beginnings, a slacker, yet whose ambitions reached far beyond the confines of the law. So the drug trade was a more-than-likely vocational choice. A life of crime was inevitable, but that's understating the matter.

Pablo wanted to be "great", not just rich and infamous, but he wanted to leave an impact, to give something back to the community; he wanted to be loved, perhaps even worshipped — and he was, by many, even at his death.

He was glad to be in the media if it meant elevating his public standing. His fortune and drug empire, along with his popularity, quickly rose to incredible heights, and within a short time managed to grease the wheels enough to come to hold a low office in the Colombian political arena. His public demeanor was polite and friendly, and gave much to his community, however, the people who knew him well enough, knew him better than that. He was an effective fear mongerer: he had people killed freely and often; when it suited his needs or just to make a point. These accounts were so frequent that I, myself was revolted and appalled at these needless atrosities — at the man himself.

Pablo's biggest fear, short of death, was being extradited to the US for his crimes. He denounced foreign involvement and wrote several communiqués to that effect in the form of implicit threats to the authorities, lobbying against extradition. After the first "war" (a manhunt consisting of many assassinations and bombing campaigns, and resulting in a diminished population and overall fatigue and frustration from Pablo's pursuers), an agreement had been reached, which was to give himself up for incarceration if extradition was off the table. This was done, and a new prison was built just for him and his men with some of the most lavish of accommodations a "prison" has ever seen (didn't start out that way). In a hostage standoff later on as a result of continued disagreements with authorities, Pablo had managed to escape undetected and the crime boss or El Doctor, as he was called, had returned to work.

The second "war" saw him as more of a fugitive/outlaw. It was long and drawn out. The man became so elusive that several different factions and organizations were forced to get involved: the PNC (Colombian police), Delta, SEAL, and DIJIN, DEA agents, a "Search Bloc" and a Colombian vigilante group called Los Pepes who freely carried out retaliatory measures for every one of Pablo's attacks. Its members were therefore kept anonymous, also because they were not government sanctioned, and were officially denounced.

Colonel Martinez's Search Bloc was most instrumental in bringing down the infamous crime boss. The Colonel, along with his determined son Hugo, who specialized in the latest triangulation/telemetry technology, became increasingly frustrated by its many false readings and ultimately by the many subsequent raids, all but the last of which failed. The reputation of the team and the employed technology was on a steep slide, but with each attempt at netting the butterfly they felt they were getting closer; besides, by that time, to abdicate in failure was not an option.

By the end, the whole operation was so tainted with the stench of corruption that it had left a bad taste in the mouths of the more morally inclined individuals involved in the hunt (as evidenced by the condemned and highly suspected collaboration between official forces and Los Pepes); which became a 'blood-soaked' sixteen-month ordeal that resulted in a lot of money spent, the deaths of countless people and countless other lives forever changed (but it's seldom about that).

Anecdote: I was intently focused on the book as I stood by the doorway of a moving subway homeward bound. At a stop, a man stood in front of me waiting to be let out, and just as he walked out he remarked to me "great book". I was caught so off guard that I found myself scanning for an appropriate response, and despite being about eighty percent through the book I managed to feebly squeak out "oh, really?"

This is not the first time something similar has happened to me...see also The Time Traveler's Wife. And well before that a man on a bus had attempted to engage me in conversation seeing I was reading American Psycho. He had said he did not like the movie (esp. in comparison to the novel). To remain agreeable, to my chagrin I agreed. I did, in fact, love the film, which persuaded me to pick up the book. But I digress.

The book makes for excellent movie fodder considering its length and the way it reads. It is a mere 270 pages, but there is so much to soak in that it's hard, at times, to keep track of it all. There is a lot more to say, but I won't attempt to recount any more of this, given the narrative, by relying on a hazy memory bank of events.

I sought this one because I saw a TV interview with the author hosted by Carolyn Weaver on one of her many book shows called Bio Library at 4am.

It is astutely comprehensive; complete with a preface, a timeline, a family tree of the Tudor and Stuart dynasties, several photo-pages of paintings...; and certainly worth owning.

A contrasting dual biography (a genre I don't typically read) — so contrasting that the two sovereigns are portrayed in direct opposition to one another: we start with an elegant and very attractive cover — 2 paintings in opposing, yet complementary colour tones, depicting the queens facing outward.

Dunn ensures we understand the kind of times these are — harsh and medieval: an age of witchcraft, torture, famine, disease, mass and public executions, unexplained illnesses and deaths; strict in prevalent dogma and extremely superstitious. My only gripe would be that the story of the Queens is set up and told almost solely in the dynamic that relates one to the other. Having said that, it definitely serves its purpose, and I knew exactly what I was picking up.

The English queen was truly a monarch of the people, and by declaring herself as such, the people under her rule became her "children", giving herself fully to them and giving up any concept of ever having children of her own — thus becoming the "Virgin Queen". She subscribed to new and radical feminist ideals: she renounced and rejected the long-standing, customary notion that a Queen is incapable to rule by herself and whose only use is to produce a male heir to succeed and secure the throne.

Growing up, her queenship was on shaky ground as she was considered to be an illegitimate child of Henry VIII. So it was only after Henry's death, failing to produce a legitimate male heir; and after her half sister, Mary I of England succumbing to illness, that Elizabeth assumed her fateful role. The trials and hardships she faced helped to better prepare her for the trials and hardships that awaited her as a top governing entity.

The Queen of Scots' undoing began with her marriage to Lord Darnley (Henry Stuart), which was amourous at first, but quickly grew cold. Darnley, a former Elizabethan subject, was an angry and violent man, and was unpopular among his subjects. He was jealous of Mary's private secretary, Rizzio, who was said to be fathering Mary's unborn child (James VI) and was subsequently murdered by Darnley. Darnley himself was then assassinated, and Mary's third husband, the Earl of Bothwell and Mary herself were suspected.

Born in 1542 (to James V who died shortly afterward almost instantly making Mary Queen of Scotland), Marie Stuart grew up in France and married Francis II, King of France until his early death, before Darnley. She had a very privileged upbringing, and was extremely spoiled and flattered to the point of gaining an exaggerated sense of entitlement with a veil draped over her view of the world, making her ill-prepared for the challenges ahead that naturally come with her (predetermined) status as queen.

Boy, this writing (and at times even the book itself) was like self-imposed "homework".

Upon book's pick-up, I'll admit it looked intimidating. I doubted my readiness for it: took me the entire summer of 2009 to finish this, not that I read slowly, I just kept putting it down on an all-too-regular basis. I had to keep a steady pace to stay focused (public transit in a bustling city offers too many distractions). Also, the book is too inaccessible to the likes of me, but understandably so because the chances of someone like me being interested in a topic like this is fairly slim — containing boundless vocabulary and frequent use of sixteenth century English. But I persevered and considered it a challenge. My library fine was sizable.

The mysterious craft is discovered a thousand feet below the surface of the Pacific Ocean; contains very advanced, future technology, but coral growth around it suggests it's been there for at least 300+ years, which in turn suggests time travel...and so begins the mind-bending ride that is Sphere: with THE SURFACE; then THE DEEP; THE MONSTER; THE POWER.

What would our probable reaction be to something newly discovered? Whether new to the indiviual or to mankind — something alien, but not necessarily extraterrestrial. What do you make of a spaceship from the future, simultaneously from the past?

Fascinating discussions: fibreoptics (did some further reading on this); 'Space and Time' [page 82 in the Ballantine Books, soft cover edition] (also on this); 'The anthropomorphic problem' [page 110]: an encounter with an extraterrestrial life form is more probable in the form of microbes/bacteria as opposed to bug-eyed little green men as the entertainment industry (and apparently even some university professors) might lead you to believe. Black holes; memory; congruity theory: the notion that we as humans can derive something, anything from an alien life form is remote to non-existent. Not just because of the physical differences, but even the vast differences in the way the world/universe is experienced — differences in communication, in scientific methodologies... A line on page 335 states 'the ability to imagine is the largest part of what you call intelligence.' another (to reenforce): 'your greatness lies in imagination.' And this...is what truly separates us from "animals".

T'was interesting to note similarities to the 1979 film Alien: the dinner scene [page 159], corrosive substance eating through a *space suit, the hidden govenment agenda. However, a homage to 20000 Leagues Under The Sea was more evident: the very mention of the Jules Verne classic, the setting, the giant squid...

It is an interesting character study as well, on the mental stability of the primary players, when in almost complete isolation with one another. The various interactions and human re/actions ring true. Ultimately explores the power of the human mind — both in brilliance and in insanity. The split in the brain: the rational and the irrational; the importance of both the conscious and the unconscious; the unattainability of complete awareness; the 'shadow' [269] of man: the dark side of the human psyche — to acknowledge it is to be in control of it.

The writing is smart and similarly structured to Jurassic Park or The Lost World (no surprise); and foreshadows a scientist named Levine, to appear in the latter. I particularly enjoyed a tense exchange with the entity 'Jerry' from page 258.

To paraphrase another reviewer: the last ten pages are exactly what they should be (and where all the puzzle pieces fall into place). And it was very satisfying in its eeriness.

Here too there's a play on perception (for which I'm a sucker) where the line between what is really happening and what is imagined is blurry. (There are at least four other books on this page that touch upon this theme!) I enjoyed dwelling so far from civilization, on the ocean floor, for the duration of the book. An MC novel is always a learning experience. This one is my very favourite.

A translated manuscript of an Arab, Ibn Fadlan, representative of the powerful Caliph of Baghdad, details his account with a band of Vikings in 922aD journeying to the barbaric North to help rid their town of the evil that dwells there.

Fadlan lets us vicariously experience in high detail their many strange and extremely superstitious customs and habits, and overall lifestyle.

Battles are fought, lessons are learned (most notably about the primitive man), cultures are sliced into each other; and the twist at the end is too good to reveal here.

The two parts of the book (a pattern with LC) highlights the difference between the natural gravitation toward and away from said life. They share, however, a common theme: the rejection of the father.

To me the early nineteen hundreds was an interesting time period, especially in this realm — Prohibition/Depression era mob tales.

From his death bed, a gangster's story is told. Part 1 investigates Angelo Vestieri's ascention in the ranks to one of the most reputably dangerous mob bosses; from the moment he was born, to the time he shamed his father to death for (in a tight situation) killing his first son (Angelo's brother) in order to free him from the clutches of the mafia, to his mentors, to the allure of money and eventually power. Part 2 sees Angelo take in a stray young boy, Gabe (narrator), who was shipped from one foster home to another; and whose guardians (in hard times) only care about the financial benefits that come with fostering a child. Gabe had many experiences in his unusual upbringing, such as his first extortion, or the summer he spent in a small Italian town to better fit the role being carved out for him. But in spite of all this he gradually becomes disgusted with the underworld and decides to live a 'normal' life — that times have changed and he doesn't have to bilk innocent, hard-working people to live well — doesn't have to live rich and die young and alone as most gangsters do.

But the book is less about Gabe than Angelo: first as the son, then as the father (figure); whose chosen life demands secrecy and concealment — to be closed off emotionally so as not to show weakness. A man with no weakness is a man with nothing to lose...and most dangerous. But at the end, the man is empty; and at the reflection point in a gangster's life, he starts to care for something much deeper than the constant persuit of money and status; something to pass on to a new generation — a legacy — to know that his time on earth was not a self-serving waste; to, in a broader sense, live forever.

Between Angelo and Gabe the ultimate dichotomy of Nature versus Nurture is explored: there is no doubt that both play a major role in the outcome of one's life. But how are they divided? Which is the greater influence? Does it vary? Gabe was a typical boy, but was never susceptible to petty crime or mischief. So by nature he rejected the shady life his quasi-father laid out. And likewise (but in reverse) for Angelo himself.

The pages are adorned with a healthy amount of violence and good respect for the traditions of the Italian mafia. Carcaterra writes as though he's scripting a movie. This is both good and bad, because on the one hand we get incredible visuals, yet on the other, I was confused at times due to a liberally shifting time period and narrative. Also, unfortunately, the ending was less than satisfying this time around.

Malcolm is revived from uncertain death in this sequel of aftermath. The book's title is a term used in the scientific community referring to the theoretical myth that dinosaurs still live among us as distant relatives of their Cretaceous forms. It also pays homage to Arthur Conan Doyle.

Ingen has closed its doors. Its rival company, Biosyn, and their head lackey, Dodgson, by industrial espionage, are now piggybacking Malcolm and his associates to try to salvage eggs from whatever has survived on 'Site B' — Ingen's "real" dino-manufacturing site, with all its biogenic maladies.

Malcolm's team's mission, was to rescue a brash fellow scientist on a haphazard expedition to study the beasts for the first time in the history of man that are not just fossils and bone fragments.

Again, the Malcolm (and Levine) chapters were the most interesting. I'll even specify some: chapter called Red Queen [page 186 in the Ballantine Books, soft cover edition] explains that when a species (plant or animal) evolves, so does the species (plant or animal) directly affected by it for offensive/defensive reasons — sustainability of the species — a change here will cause a chain-reaction of change elsewhere; Problems of Evolution [224] outlines the history of the theory of evolution, the many holes in it that existed, and the many that remain, (but there is more hard evidence now to support the 'theory' than to negate it); and Malcolm [336] explaining how we, as humans, cannot possibly fathom the complexities of life (from cell division to the behavioral patterns of any ecological society), and that evolution happens faster in smaller groups (consider Japan); even stating that cyberspace (the entire world being interconnected) is the death of human advancement — an argument against globalization, I suppose.

The writer reminds the reader that there's an evolutionary pattern to 'theories' (much like anything else) and must heed them with a sense of incredulity; and that since Darwin, "nearly all positions on evolution" are still much disputed.

The author doesn't make it easy for the protagonists to make it off the island intact — they're met with many obstacles. The antagonists get their just desserts.
Character development is decent across the two novels.

Interesting similarities between the books to note:
• There's a character called Harding in each — first a man, then a woman.
• Both a young boy and girl, in each, serve at first as nuisances, then aids.

Crichton died 4 November 2008 just before I finished the book. I read the last few pages in a dimmer light — a little more slowly. The man was an inspiration for me and many, and I consider it a great loss to the scientific and popular cultures. He was master of the false document narrative device, and tended to elevate plot over character development, much to my satisfaction. I may not always agree with his assertions, but I find them all highly interesting nonetheless. In his writings he managed to find a good balance between knowledge and wonder (not that they're mutually exclusive). He had a lot more to say.

I especially enjoyed the Malcolm chapters: chaos theory; iterated function systems (fractals); unpredictabilities; behavioral patterns; the pursuit of knowledge by way of science, and the discipline to use said knowledge responsibly and in conscientious ways (or the discipline to know not to use it), as opposed to bought knowledge (knowledge for power) — the difference between self-education, and reading a textbook; the difference between owning a piece of work, and piggyback riding the owner.

There are several chapters called simply 'control' — something Malcolm insists is impossible, under certain conditions, to achieve: "everyone is so preoccupied with the fact that they could, but does anyone stops to ask whether they should?" — to paraphrase the character from the movie. As I write this I came upon the perfect example in the real world today:

[2011 supplemental: On the above example, it must be noted that while I was never a part of the crowd fearing Earth's destruction, if there was ever a cause for concern by those in the know (those in the scientific communities, especially those directly involved with the experiment in question), I'm sure, or I hope appropriate measures would be taken; whereas this book demonstrates the exact opposite. Many of Crichton's books involve a headlong venture into the unknown with little to no regard for consequence or repercussion, especially fuelled by the desire to stay ahead in a particular industry that pushes the limits of what is possible and therefore the boundaries of what is moral or ethical.

You stood on the shoulders of geniuses to accomplish something as fast as you could, and before you even knew what you had, you patented it and packaged it and slapped it on a plastic lunch box, and now you're selling it. — Dr. Ian Malcolm

As a matter of fact, I like to dwell on the opposite side of the line in the sand from said crowd: to dream about the advancement and betterment of humankind. I like to think scientists become scientists generally because they love what they do; and yet they answer to the shareholders, the corporation, who tend to be transfixed on the bottom line and a return on their investment as they neglect to understand the potential risks, pitfalls or hazards — a blind eye, so to speak, as long as their agenda is being serviced. Yes, one can argue that without their money, advancements of any kind would be next to impossible; but one must ask, if only rhetorically, just how clean or altruistic, if at all, is the overarching purpose of the enterprise? Money can provide possibilities, but excess amounts of it inherently begets corruption. The human factor is always there: greed. — Another good example is the decent 2010 movie Splice. And another: Prey

2012 supplemental: I now own a beautiful, silkscreen poster designed by a J. C. Richard to commemorate a piece of work that obviously means much to me in many ways. I had it framed.]

I also enjoyed Dr. Wu's surface-level gene manipulation — DNA broken down into raw, on-screen data. It's a little mind-bending to think that we are nothing more than supremely sophisticated lines of code — code we, as humans, have barely begun to understand, yet freely dabble in (see Malcolm).

Crichton's attention to detail and the big picture is noteworthy.
To me the action sequences were little more than interludes (ironically the opposite is true in the film), but what's a book about reality-based, living dinosaurs without some dismemberment; viscera; fearsome images of dinosaurs.

The book is summed up beautifully with a subtle metaphore in the line just before the epilogue: we're left with a grand sense of tragedy as something that was supposed to be so awesome and wonderful in terms of science and discovery met its demise before it was ever able to take flight. Also it was around this time that I inadvertently started humming the themes of Jurassic Park the movie.

The book is a plethora of knowledge or wisdom interspersed in an action/adventure story which serves largely to hold the casual reader's attention.
I really like hard science fiction. Crichton is good.

[2011 addendum: I was ten years old when I saw the film on the big screen. With the October 25th release of the Blu-ray trilogy I'd be remiss to not credit this movie and subsequently Spielberg & associates and ultimately the author of this great classic for not only being a source, but rather the very spark of inspiration for seeking knowledge about all things awesome and wonderful in this world and beyond that has lasted to today and beyond. For this I am grateful.]

The demographic this was intended for is women in their thirties: on my subway route to work I noticed someone reading it the same time as I, and pointed it out to her; time passed, and in a streetcar homeward, another woman compliments my good taste by saying it's one of her best reads. But I read it anyway for the time-travel aspect of it — somthing I've always been interested in.

The book is indeed very well written: the story is deeply rooted in reality despite its sci-fi genre. I just wish the time-travel element was made a little more plausible. Niffenegger attempts to elicit an emotional response from the reader (which was somewhat lost on me for reason mentioned) by creating/building a history between the two main characters, which already always existed; and therein lies the ingenious use of the time-travel phenomenon.

By nature time-travel creates (intended) complications... but the author keeps good track of the dates and ages so we're never lost.

For its length (500+ pages) and all the build-up, the ending was a bit of a let down. However, my 5-dot rating is not without merit.

With all of the above said, I guess I should've read the title more carefully because I care less about the time traveler's wife than I do about the time traveler himself. His story is vastly more interesting.

Ellis puts himself into the story as the main character playing both roles: son and father, and again lets the reader decide what's fact or fiction. But this time that's not what takes center stage. He makes several references to a previous novel, American Psycho, whose protagonist, he reveals, was initially based on his father — someone all too wrapped up in name brands and pretense. That story however, had morphed into something else — something haunting even (or mostly) to the author himself. Lunar Park may have been a resolution or an emancipation.

In the book he makes an effort to put his fraternity/bachelor, drugged out lifestyle behind him — tries to better himself for the sake of his son but fails, like his own father before him. There's a song that bares some significance in his adult life as it reconnects him to his childhood. I too have such a song: The Living Years by Mike and the Mechanics.

He dares to explore a darker side (or sides less probed) of the human psyche in a very honest and astute way — which is why I'm a fan. There's actually a line in the book that says: "...a dream, which is what a novel should be". And that's exactly what it is. It's also the truth...the way he sees it.
The writing style is all his own. Ellis breaks all the rules for the sake of art — of transporting the reader. The revelatory and kaleidoscopic ending alone is worth the read.

Supplemental: in a 2010 interview, Ellis has said the title character of American Psycho to be truly based on himself and his inner rage rather than his father, which, to me, makes more sense due to the nature of the content and narrative, not to mention the first-person point of view, all of which would thus act as a journal-like, highly creative venting platform, in my opinion of course. So I wouldn't be shocked if he disliked the film adaptation with the content coming from such a dark and personal place, and it's probably his best piece of writing to date for it; although I'd find it difficult to explain why.

This could've been so much more. To me it wasn't deeply rooted enough in factual events. Yes, it's a novella, but it felt rushed.

It only gets truly good by chapter 7. Before that is just padding, filler.
It is, however, an excellent novella because the author knows how to write horror. She writes artfully with an extensive vocabulary.
The story is told from the view point of E. Bathory herself so it's more than just what happened — it's why. This, apart from my full-blooded Hungarian connection, is why I read this one.

Attila is an altogether different character here: he grows more sinister and power-mad all under the guise of vengeance, and in the name of their god Astur. The madness grows so big that it feeds off itself and its supposed purpose until it gets grotesquely obese, and the newly formed empire starts to crumble under its weight.

Attila's horde grows proportionally and the subsequent events lead up to the final showdown between himself and his opposing counterpart in Flavius Aëtius. Attila is coming, everyone knows it and greatly fears it, and his reputation precedes him.

It is a tad formulaic in the sense that we see the Romans (now the good guys) fighting against- and ultimately overcoming incredible odds to prevail: the shear might of the Romans & supporting company against the seemingly limitless numbers of the Huns — it's the literary cliché of quality versus quantity once again. We're consistently made aware of this. And just when this thematic routine begins to settle in, Napier would briefly let us be witnesses to the humanity of those that serve under Attila; so to be fair, it does tell both sides of the story, but for a book entitled Attila, in big bold letters, it is too heavy on the telling of the Roman account. It's interesting to see the shift in narrative from the Huns to the Romans across the series; and it was due to this, aside from my pure-blooded (as far as I can track) Hungarian ethnicity, that I found myself on the side of Attila and his Huns in any given battle against the Romans, despite the path of destruction they laid down behind them, and my best efforts to remain objective (which, on the part of the author, only the saga as a whole attempts). And speaking of narrative, the use of a storyteller in the form of a lonely, servile scribe called Priscus of Panium was entirely unnecessary. We'd be reminded of this far too seldom to really contribute anything to the experience of the story; and I did not appreciate the sudden shift to first-person narration, so it was, in fact, distracting. But that's a quibble at most.

Much like eyes adjusting to sudden darkness, returning to this series I had to get myself used to- and reacquainted with the author's language and writing style, which has a positive and negative duality. Napier writes with such poetic and erudite language (which in itself is good — more on this) that it gets in the way of fluidity and even coherence. It is very confusing and very difficult to maintain any flow: I was constantly questioning the meaning of a word or the structure of a phrase (book three is fraught with fifth century, military jargon); and I'm sure the editor had a hard time as well judging from the odd typo and grammatical error. Or maybe I'm just dense. That having been said, the writing style does provide a very rewarding, immersive and rich experience, and I must emphasize that the author has a gift for epic storytelling, because this book in particular (and the trilogy overall) is just that, epic.

After the great battle of Viminacium, which saw VIIth Legion (stuck without requested reinforcements due to the outpost being deemed expendable and the ruling heads unwilling to spare the additional man-power) trying almost futilely to hold off the advancing Hun army, emerging from the rubble was a very small band of surviving Roman caricatures who would serve as cartoonish examples of valour and fortitude. There was as much bravado, pride and honour among men as one can imagine amid thoroughly exhausted centuries of dignified Roman soldiers.

There was a great clash of ships at sea in which the one Roman ship was doubly outnumbered. Then there was the great skirmish at Constantinople and then the final battle of the Catalaunian Fields, at which point Attila and his horde were just about completely drained of vitality, resources and morale. By then, however, the Roman army and its recruits — one of them being a northern British legion who themselves had their hands full with the Saxons at the time — were also spent. The feeble Byzantine assassination attempt was laughable and Attila's reaction to it was priceless.

There is incest, corruption and instability in the Roman Empire. It's bleeding internally. It sees Attila as an aggravator and an imminent threat, and so they amass their own legion led by none other than Aëtius, thus becoming Attila's (given their past) arch nemesis, and a worthy adversary.

Contains vivid battle sequences.
Only a matter of time before a big budget movie is made. I haven't seen Gerard Butler's rendition.

T'was only after I started into this I found out it's the first book of three.
Tells the tale of young, ferocious Attila - his strong love for his land and people, how he grew to hate the Romans, and the harsh realities to which he was subject in early youth. (his first murder...)

Captured by the Romans, Attila is their prime hostage. However he is treated well, but Attila resents and refuses to become too accustom to the comforts and depraved lifestyle the others have come enjoy, and takes it upon himself to escape and find home. Friends and bonds are forged along his journey. One of them, a young, willing servant whose unwavering loyalty lasts a lifetime. Another, young Aëtius.

Attila is of royal blood — this is made very clear throughout the story as he periodically calls to his imperial status by referring to the hallowed names of his father, his father, and his father's father before him.