November: The God Delusion (1)

It was an interesting read from a number of perspectives. I grew up attending our local Uniting Church and so I guess one might say I am a Christian. However, I have not really been to church since then (the odd wedding and funeral aside) and would be inclined to say that I am probably agnostic. In this regard, one might think that I would concur with Dawkins arguments - as potentially one of the choir - but throughout the book, I was continually finding ways to negate his arguments.

Does this mean that I am actually more religious than I thought? Or was it just that the way he expressed his arguments were in a way bating for a response? Indeed Dawkins' writing style struck me as arrogant and patronising, which did nothing to endear me to him. This also gave me the impression that he was no better (and potentially worse?) than the people he was referring to in the book. I also watched the BBC documentary that is based on 'The God Delusion', and one pastor even made such a comment after having been railroaded by Dawkins. This is the first of such books that I have read, so I have nothing to compare it to, but I can say that I was put off a lot by the tone.

In terms of what he was saying in his arguments, for the most part I agree. I recall even when I was attending church that I would often question (to myself) statements from the bible or the minister's sermon, and I think this played a big part in me moving away from religion. In my mind, evolution seems more rational, and that alone is enough to raise doubts about the presence of God. However, I believe that Dawkins fails to realise that not everyone thinks alike. Not everyone reasons in the same way, not everyone applies the same logic, and this results in a difference of opinion, whether it be of God and religion or another subject. Even when both sides present rational, logical arguments, sometimes one just has to agree to disagree.

OK, so I know that the 'facts' are in his favour here, and I do agree that there often seems to be more harm than good coming from religion, but there is a small part of me that thinks that the God idea is somewhat romantic (but not the fire and brimstone God). I used to have a similar fascination with ghosts in general - I just like the thought that there is more to life than what we have on earth. And I so like the idea of a teapot orbiting the sun. Being reduced to a statistic (as Dawkins kindly showed) is not romantic at all.

But something I was also wondering is if there is no God, would people find something/someone else to worship? I see how some people fixate on celebrities (singers, actors) and to some extent politicians and wonder if these are alternative idols. In such cases, the worship is often limited (until the person is no longer famous, or someone else comes along) but are we just looking for a hero (role model?) of sorts? In this regard, I do think that religion goes beyond the bible, and feel that in order to understand why people believe in God, we need to know why we worship idols.

October book - Parentonomics

We're running a bit behind with posts here -- sorry guys! Once again, this is what I've posted over at Forge & Brew, with minor edits.

We read Parentonomics by Joshua Gans, husband of one of our group members, in September and discussed at our October meeting. I've delayed posting because I haven't quite finished the book. Somewhat unusually for me, I'm still reading it after the discussion. However, we had the second half of our discussion at last week's meeting, so it seems appropriate to post about it now. ( . . . Before I get into posting about the next book!)

Parentonomics is subtitled "An economist dad's parenting experiences" and is exactly that. Joshua is an economics professor at Melbourne Business School who has found himself applying many fundamental economics principles -- mainly in the form of incentive schemes -- in the rearing of his three children. He has a blog called game theorist (musings on economics and child rearing) which I understand has a large following, and it is this which generated the material for the book.

Not being a parent, I'm not a regular follower of the game theorist blog, although on the occasions I've visited I've found it an interesting and entertaining read. Parentonomics of course picks out all the best bits. Joshua has arranged hundreds of anecdotes, derived from both his own parenting experience and his wide reading, into themed sections and chapters that deal with issues such as toilet training, discipline, and even children's parties. His writing style is easy to read, humorous and insightful, while the way he (and in many cases his children) thinks is fascinating. I admit that knowing the family probably makes it more meaningful, but I think this is a book that most parents would enjoy. Joshua dwells on both the successes and failures of his economic gambits.

Our first group discussion was over a month ago now and I don't recall much of it. I think we found ourselves dwelling on our own childhoods and how they compared with Joshua's kids', and that we discussed whether there might be a long-term impact of raising kids using incentive schemes. Without exception, we all enjoyed reading the book, even those of us without kids.

At our most recent discussion, we went through some questions that N, "the children's mother", had put together. (She intentionally wasn't present at our first discussion.):

1. Did you find reading the book voyeuristic? If so, was it because you knew (some of) the characters?

Most of us present said that in a few parts, but not many, we had felt a little voyeuristic, but only because we knew the characters. The most notable for me were incidents related to childbirth. Othertimes I felt like I was getting to know the family even better.

2. Did the fact that none of the characters are named (other than the author) bother you, or interfere with the flow of the stories?

We all said no I think. In principle this is true, although I think that Joshua wasn't always consistent with his pseudonyms, which probably bothered me a little bit. We commented that N was always "the children's mother" instead of his wife, which we found interesting.

3. Do you think you learnt anything about economics?

Yes, a little. I think I always considered economics to be about $$ and money markets, but in fact money is just one kind of incentive.

4. Did you learn anything about parenting?

Reading about parenting experiences is bound to introduce new aspects of parenting I hadn't before considered. Parenting is hard (from all accounts) and it's not surprising that everyone tries different methods. Parentonomics introduces a different perspective that might work with some children, but probably not all.

5. Have you thought about what a sociological equivalent to the book would be like?

I believe we agreed that there were many such books out there.

6. Do you think it's inappropriate for an economist to publish a book about parenting, about which he is technically not qualified?

Joshua makes clear right at the beginning that this is not an advice book, and that his experiences are his alone. There is no law that says one has to be qualified to publish a book. So long as there are people out there who want to read it, and a publisher who wants to publish it, it's fine!

7. Did the combination of stories about the authors children interspersed with his research work well as a narrative?

I thought so. However, I think most of us said the anecdotes about his kids were the most entertaining and interesting. I made the comment that I felt the book owed a lot to the personalities of the first two children, and the eldest in particular. Maybe it's just the slant Joshua casts upon them, but the way they think and act seems remarkable. But perhaps all kids are remarkable but it's not documented! (I understand child #3, who was very young for much of the time covered by this book, will be featured much more prominently should there be a sequel!)

8. For those who don't have children: did you find it difficult to relate to the stories?

We said no, we had all been kids once and many of us had nieces and nephews. As I said before, we spent considerable time at the original meeting reminiscing about our own childhoods.

To sum up, it was an interesting experience reading and discussing a book written by someone I know socially (as opposed to knowing someone from the SF community). Especially something that boils down to a fairly personal account of family life. There's some intriguing stuff in there. And some smart kids.

Currently reading . . .

This month we're reading The God Delusion, by Richard Dawkins. And doesn't it pack a punch‽ I imagine this book would be very confronting for many people. But more on that after the 6 Nov discussion . . .

As for a post on Parentonomics, our October book -- I haven't forgotten. Will post on this soon.

Blindness by Jose Saramago

This month, I took the liberty to read something different, since I wasn't going to be able to get a copy of Parentonomics in time. A month or so ago, I saw a preview for a movie called 'Blindness' where there is an epidemic of a contagion that causes blindness. I was intrigued by the plot, only to later discover that it is a book by Jose Saramago, a Portugese writer who received the Nobel Prize for literature in 1998. By coincidence, a friend of mine had a copy of the book, so I jumped at the opportunity to read it.

From the first page, I was completely drawn into the story, which begins with a man going blind while waiting in his car for the traffic lights to turn green. At this stage, it is not known that the blindness is contagious, and someone offers to take him home. Later, his wife takes him to the eye doctor, who is stumped by this man's condition. Only later, when the doctor himself goes blind, does he realise that this could be a potentially serious situation. In the attempt to contain the contagion, those that are afflicted are quarantined in an empty mental institution. And there, the real story begins.

Imagine a society where everyone is blind. Imagine having to fend for oneself without being able to see, and without any support. Saramago's novel depicts this situation, and in essence, the breakdown of society under such conditions. Those that are quarantined are ostracised. Those that are still able to see are scared of getting to close for fear of going blind. But how does one clean oneself, feed oneself and take care of ones wellbeing without external help? Let me just say that the consequences are not pretty.

Saramago's novel is one of extremely powerful imagery, almost frighteningly realistic. He initially seems to suggest that we are just one major disaster away from chaos. But is this a fair assumption? If we lived in a society without laws, without a governing body, would this lead to chaos? As the novel progresses, there is a change in the behaviour of people. By the end, there is almost an acceptance of the situation, which results in a different sort of social awareness and order. The blind have adapted to their limitations, and although it is not life as we know it, there is civility amongst the people. This seems to imply that people are to a certain extent malleable - that no matter what is thrown at us, society will always adapt. Does this mean that after any type of social disruption that ultimately some sort of order will be achieved?

Saramago's style of writing is unusual, and in many cases difficult to follow. No one has a name and is referred to by a defining feature (the first blind man, the girl with the dark glasses, the thief, the doctor's wife). There is also a overwhelming lack of punctuation, sometimes making it difficult to know who is talking to whom, with sentences often as long as paragraphs. But these aspects of the book intrigued me, as it was mentioned in the book, how do you put a face to a name when you can't see the face?

When I consider the books that I have read over the past year, many have touched upon this theme of social breakdown. I seem to have a fascination for reading about people who have been taken out of their normal environment, and seeing how they cope with change. I wonder what this says about me?

Some inspiration for the current read...

The Kite Runner (3)

Much of what I have to say has already been mentioned by Ellen and Kate, but here is what I sent to Allyson...

I actually finished 'The Kite Runner' a few weeks ago, having made an early start but also since I found it to be quite an easy read. I must admit that I also watched the movie when I was only about half way through the book. Of course this gave away the ending, but I was surprised at how close the movie followed the book. This only spurred me to finish the book faster, to see if the plot lines were indeed the same.

For me, the story of Amir and Hassan was incidental. I found it to be cliched and highly predictable, and in that regard, I was not particularly moved by their story. However, what I really enjoyed was the insight into life in Afghanistan. I knew (know?) very little about Afghanistan and Afghani culture and history, and so it was nice to be able to get a better feel for life there, both prior the the coup and Russian invasion as well as the situation under the Taliban rule.

I got the impression that in the early 1970's that life was on the whole good and that there was to some extent freedom and choice (at least for the Pashtuns). To me, the tradition of the kite flying symbolised this freedom. However, you also got the feeling that there was a dissidence towards the ethnic groups that at some point was going to explode.

From the book, it seems that the Afghans are very proud people, and I think that this was reflected most in the behaviour of the Afghans in California. I can really imagine that a general would dress up in a suit each and every day, in preparation for an immediate return to Afghanistan should his country request him to do so. Also that there was still a strong sense and respect of cultural beliefs, even when in a foreign country. It was these aspects that I enjoyed most about the book.

One thing that I noticed, however, was that the imagery of Amir's childhood and life in California was very vivid. But when he returned to Afghanistan, the description of the country in its present state did not seem to have the same impact. The book was published in 2003 but it was only in 2007 that Khaled Hosseini returned to Afghanistan after he and his family left in 1976. I can imagine that Hosseini was able to draw on his own personal experience when describing Amir's childhood and his life in the USA. But with no first hand experience of life in Afghanistan in the early 2000s, there was no personal reference. I think this lack of first hand experience of the Afghanistan under Taliban rule was reflected in his writing.

September: The Kite Runner (2)

This is more or less the same as my post on forge&brew.

In the end, I decided not to read The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini for most of the reasons outlined in an earlier (different) post on forge&brew. I didn't like the writing style (I found the author manipulative, which kept pulling me out of the novel). I didn't like the main character. The plot seemed trite and predictable and convenient. I would have liked to keep reading in order to hear more about Afghanistan, but I just couldn't make myself pick up the book or headphones. (For the latter, I blame Jane Eyre in many respects.)

Consequently, I forced myself to watch the movie the night before our meeting last Thursday, so that I might have some idea of the conversation. However, I tried not to say too much, because of my excessively negative reaction to this book. I thought the movie was OK. It did make me cry in a few sections, but it didn't make me wish I had persevered and read the book.

So I'm not going to go on here any more about what I didn't like. Instead I am going to summarise some of things discussed by the group, because I took notes.

One of the things many got out of the book was insight into the world of Afghanistan, past and present. Certainly the author portrayed a seemingly authentic picture of the Kabul he lived in as a child, including lots of detail about the various classes and the sport of kite fighting. We did wonder, however, about the authenticity of Afghanistan under the Taliban, given the author did not return himself until after the book was published. Nevertheless, all agreed it was a fascinating insight into that part of the world.

Inevitably, we talked a lot about Amir as well. Most seemed to agree he wasn't a nice person as a child, but thought it was a product of upbringing and culture. Owing to his difficult relationship with his father, Amir had a lack of role models. But does that justify the terrible way he treated Hassan in this book? And can you be redeemed for that? Someone argued that it was often better not to like the main character in a book, because antiheroes are more interesting. Well, I disagree with that. I need to be able to connect to the main character, not despise them. Flaws are essential, but there are limits.

Some felt the story was more about Amir as a character, and his inability to grow up because of the shadow cast by his father.

Interestingly (and possibly catalysed by my comments) others brought up the question of whether or not Hosseini is a good writer. Most seemed to think not, but in most cases their experience wasn't destroyed as mine was. They responded to his ability to generate emotion in readers -- and certainly he did that.

The relationship between Amir and Hassan as boys is pivotal to the story. Essentially they are friends, but it's a very unequal relationship, with Amir brought up wealthy and privileged, able to read and write, of a class that was respected. Hassan, on the other hand, was from a discriminated race and brought up as a servant. Yet he gives Amir an unswerving loyalty and devotion that I found really hard to take.

During the course of our meeting, the picture book called The Giving Tree was raised. This is a book about a tree that gives every part of itself to a boy over his lifetime as he grows into an old man. In the end, the tree is no more than a stump, yet it still gives of itself to provide a seat for the old man's weary bones. When I read this book, as I stood in a bookshop, I wept and then I hated that such a book was targeted at children. No relationship should ever be that unequal. And when the book was mentioned by chance in our meeting, I instantly felt it exemplified the level of giving Hassan showed Amir. How do some people end up being able to take take take and never give?

To sum up, just about everyone either liked or loved this book -- 6 out of 8 present had read it. The main positives seemed to be the descriptions of Afghanistan, and the depiction of just how shifty some people can be!

September: The Kite Runner (1)

Here are Kate's thoughts:

This is one of my top five books this decade. It explores so many issues in a moving and gripping way. Perhaps it's a bit formulaic and predictable, but it was the first time in a long time that I was sucked into a book and read it quickly. Incidentally, I didn't think its structure was formulaic and I did enjoy the flashback style.

The existential and spiritual issues raised in this book, interwoven with snippets about pre-and post-occupation Afghanistan, made for fascinating reading. I was particularly moved by the themes of guilt and making amends, although I thought that Amir's opportunity to make amends by caring for Hassan's son was a bit convenient. More often is the case that we don't have a chance to make amends with those we have wronged.

There wasn't much about this book that I didn't like. I enjoyed reading about the complex friendship between the two young boys. Amir writes about his child self in an almost loving and sympathetic way, knowing that such a young boy would be very conflicted by the complexity of their relationship. I enjoyed learning about a sport that is clearly a vital part of Afghan culture. I was interested to read that Afghani winter holidays are like the Western world's summer holidays. I liked the descriptions of traditional food. I found hope in reading about a man who had migrated to the US and who could see and silently scorn the oppression of women in his homeland. I sympathised with returning to one's place of upbringing and not finding anything as it had been.

Because I enjoyed the book so much, I have actually chosen not to see the movie. My experience is that I'm usually disappointed by movie adaptations of books, and I prefer to have Hassan and Amir live in my mind the way I imagine them. Although I read this book months ago, I still have very vivid images in my mind, which I like to take out and examine every now and again.
06 September, 2008

Currently Reading

'Parentonomics' by Joshua Gans is going to be the book for October. I promise to get some topics for discussion from the author before he flits off to the US.


In the mean time, you can read all about the book on www.parentonomics.com and see the video of Principles of Economics using examples from the book at www.mbs.edu/go/episode/economic-lessons-from-parenting


As this book is currently only published in Australia I shall investigate the best way for our overseas members to get a copy.


I can't remember who agreed to lead the discussion... anyone put up their hand?

Sense of Obligation

As a member of a reading group, should one feel obliged to read the books? This is a question that I have thought about from time to time, often when I am struggling to get through a book. But I think that in order to really answer this question, it is necessary to consider a number of issues. First of all, what is the intention of the reading group? Is it just an excuse to get together? (I do believe that many groups are often a guise for social get togethers, recalling the 'Melrose Place' nights that I used to attend that were more or less an excuse to eat pizza, drink wine and gossip!). Or is it an opportunity to be exposed to books of different authors and genres that one otherwise might never have read (broaden one's horizons)? Alternatively, does one look at reading groups from a more academic perspective, using it as an opportunity to develop critical reading skills (ha, yeah right!)? I can imagine though that different groups will have a different objectives, but most will probably see it as a combination of the first two. In this case, most members are committed to reading the selected books, and will probably make a good effort to read somewhere between 50 and 80%. However, having picked up a book and started reading it, is there an obligation to finish it? This again is probably dependent on a number of factors. Excluding time limitations, I guess the main reasons for not wanting to finish a book could be based on moral grounds (that the book repulses you, for example) or that you are finding it hard going (whether the plot disinterests you, or that it is too wordy etc). Should one be expected to put these issues aside and continue with the book? This, of course, very much comes down to individual preference. I would not want anyone to read a book that they found personally confronting. However, in my opinion, the books that are hard going are worth persisting with. Why do I say this? Because I believe that this can also play an important part in the eventual discussion of the book. Although it is great when everyone enjoys the book and is full of enthusiasm during the discussion (particularly when you are the one who has chosen the book), differences of opinion can often make for more interesting discussions. I think that it is often not what was good about the book that is of interest, but rather what was not so good. In this case, a difference of opinion can raise some interesting issues that one might not have otherwise thought about. I was looking at some of the 'objectives' of different reading groups and came across one that suggested that there is a difference between a 'good read' and a 'good book for discussion'. I would even go so far to suggest that there is a difference in reading for pleasure and reading for a book club. But, don't get me wrong. I am not suggesting that we should only choose 'difficult' books to read, and be forced to read them. But I do think that once in a while, it can be good (possibly even character building? (no pun intended ;)) to finish a book that you don't particularly enjoy.

Intepreter Of Maladies (4)

This one's been kind of beaten up already, but I'll add some thoughts anyway.

In a nutshell... it made me think of Buddhist statues.

Probably not Pulitzer Prize worthy, I definitely enjoyed discussing this one more than I enjoyed reading it. I feel that I read too much into the theme of these stories; taking the concept of "interpreter of maladies" as being the reader - the author presents people and their situations without critique, constructing a basis of information upon which we make our own judgements. I took the shallow character engagement as a deliberate treatment so as to not lead the reader to a particular point of view.

I found the values and themes of the stories to be quite foreign to my personal life experience (I'm not referring to the cultural sense). This seemed somewhat at odds with the interpretation that most readers had whereby they saw the stories as everyday human events. I nearly gave up on the book at one point for this very reason.

There's not much value in going down to the level of individual story reviews, but it was whilst reading "This Blessed House" that I started thinking about cultural heritage and the responsibilities of preservation (i.e. who is responsible for preserving the cultural history of one since passed?). I knew I was meandering to a tangent for I doubt this was an intentional theme of the author; although it was alluded to in the Intepreter Of Maladies story (where I knew trouble was brewing the moment they mentioned monkeys - cheeky little things they are). A number of years ago I was terribly angered when Taliban forces destroyed ancient Buddhist statues in Afghanistan and my mental wanderings took me back to that memory.

Another theme of "This Blessed House" was that of the futile rage of ineffective masculinity, but of course I don't really know anything about that :-)

Like previous posts mention, the short story idea was a refreshing change and I learned a key lesson from these tales...

"You shouldn't judge people based on where they live, that's what they do in Russia"




The two little black dots near the bottom (central) are people sitting down.

Currently reading . . .

August: Interpreter of Maladies (3)

This is a slightly edited version of my post on Forge & Brew from 10 August.

I read five of the nine stories in Jhumpa Lahiri's collection. I found them an enjoyable and easy read, filled with interesting insights into Indian culture, as well as human character in general. However, on the downside, I found them all quite similar in tone if not subject matter, and my emotional engagement with the character was more or less non-existent.

We talked in the meeting about the latter point quite a bit. One point raised was that perhaps the emotional distance was intentional, so that the reader might place his/her own interpretation on events as they unfold (in keeping with the title of the collection). Someone else postulated that the distance reflected Indian culture.

I am certain that the distance was intentional, but whether for these or another reason I'm not sure. Whatever the reason, it did influence my overall enjoyment of the stories. As a reader, I really like to get into the head of characters and feel a close emotional connection. But with these stories, that didn't happen at all. It may have been partly to do with the fact that characters were often referred to as Mr or Mrs . . ., even the viewpoint character. And even those few stories written in first person had the narrator act as an observer, without really engaging in the plot. In some cases, these viewpoint characters were children.

Another element we discussed was the style of ending featured in these stories. Coming from a SF background, I expect momentous revelation, unpredictable twists, but these stories seemed to just peter out with a whimper. In fact, in many there was no clear story goal or conflict etc. Certainly they carried you through in an engaging manner, but it's hard to say what was doing the pulling. And the endings did seem to fade away. At best they could be described as reflective, poignant. Why is this acceptable in a Pulitzer prize winning collection and not in a SF short story?

I believe we also discussed the Pulitzer prizeworthiness of the collection. I thought the writing itself, which some described as being 'simple', as being beautiful in its simplicity. Really elegant and transparent, an effortless read. Some attributed the emotional distance to the simplicity of the language, but I don't think it was that at all.

In general, people seemed to have read at least half the stories and have enjoyed them, and I think all agreed that it was good to have read and discussed a book of short stories as a change.

Interpreter of Maladies - Hayley's thoughts

I managed to pick up a copy of the book from the library, and immediately from reading the first line of the blurb on the back of the book, I was intrigued.

'Jhumpa Lahiri's elegant stories tell the lives of Indians in exile, of people navigating between the strict traditions they've inherited and the baffling New World they must encounter every day.'

I have seen Indian friends of mine go through similar types of situations, and so I was looking forward to seeing how Lahiri would portray this in her stories. However, I shouldn't read a book with preconceived expectations, as it always seems to let me down. These short stories were easy to read and entertaining, but for me, they didn't always capture the emotion that I was expecting. I could not connect to many of the characters, and I think that this is partly due to the way Lahiri portrayed them. Her writing style is almost distant, as though she is observing these people from afar. As a result, I found that the characters seemed to lack personality and I found myself feeling emotionally detached from them. I am not sure if this was somewhat intentional, as a means of highlighting their isolation. I have my doubts.

As for being stories of Indians in exile, in some cases I thought that the stories could have applied to almost anyone (A Temporary Matter, Sexy and This Blessed House, for example). Just change the name, and you could equally imagine very similar situations taking place almost anywhere in the world. There are cultural differences in the way people cope with being away from their own country, and Lahiri didn't always captured this in her stories.

For me, the best story was 'Mrs Sen's'. I could really image how isolated Mrs Sen must have felt, by not having her support network, and the comforts of home around her. There is also a difference in how people cope with living away from home, depending on whether they chose to leave, or were more or less forced to move away. In my experience, my female Indian friends who moved to another country to be with their husbands seem to have the most difficulty adjusting. When you chose to move to a new place, you mentally and emotionally prepare yourself for the experience and you are usually willing to invest the energy to make it work. The same does not always apply to those who are displaced for other reasons (which includes for a partner and employment reasons).

After reading the book, it did surprise me that it was awarded the Pulitzer prize. Although nicely written, I think that there are other similar types of books that are better at depicting the lives of outsiders. I was perusing the reviews on Amazon, many of which seem to suggest that Lahiri had hit on a fashionable topic - Indians living in the USA. The skeptic in me would tend to agree.

Currently reading . . .

Next meeting is Thursday 7 August.

July: The Drowned World (3)

Although I did finish, the book, I must say that I wasn't particularly grabbed by it. I found the plot to be difficult to follow at times. I am not sure why - maybe I was just distracted by other things while reading, but I also think that the writing style was a bit clumsy. I think at times, I was also just not all that interested in the characters, and so that there was not a strong incentive for me to want to read on to find out what happened to them.

Part of the problem may also have been that I think I was expecting that the plot would be different. I was hoping that it might be set in a period of time that was probably about 50 years prior to when the story took place. I wanted to read about how people were coping with the rising temperatures, the melting of the polar ice caps, and a world that was tropical. I wanted to know if they felt any guilt towards the climate change, whether they felt they were responsible or not. However, they seemed to be past that point, and had accepted their tropical environment or at least to a level at which they were (physically) coping. Having said that, the book was showing how people cope with change, but more in the sense of they themselves reverting to primal instincts, which was actually quite interesting.

Before Allyson sent her message, I had also thought that the book was quite similar in subject to that of 'Lord of the Flies', showing the breakdown of society. However, because the social interactions in 'The Drowned World' were tenuous to begin with, the demise of society in this book had less of an impact on me that it did in 'Lord of the Flies'. Overall, I thought that there were a lot of interesting ideas that never seemed to be fully developed. In particular, I had also thought that there would be more development of the vivid dreams that Kerans and Miss Dahl experienced - they seemed to become a secondary issue, unless of course, the dreams became reality...

July: The Drowned World (2)

The Drowned World is a 1963 Science Fiction novel by JG Ballard, an English writer who was born and raised in Shanghai. It's set in a world where solar flares/radiation have caused dramatic climate change leading to the melting of the polar ice caps. The seas have risen, coastlines have changed owing to massive silt deposits, and tropical jungles have encroached further and further north/south.

Dr Robert Kerans is a scientist attached to a military team based in one of the abandoned 'drowned' cities. He is living in the penthouse suite of the Ritz hotel -- it and all other buildings are sunk into the jungle up to around the 7th floor. He's having a relationship with a woman, Beatrice Dahl, who didn't evacuate, and despite a military order for the whole entourage to leave for the north, he decides to remain behind with her (although not for romantic reasons) and his fellow scientist, Dr Bodkin. Before the military leave, one of their pilots, Hardman, goes crazy and escapes south to where the radiation is dangerously high, and Kerans find himself empathising with this. Some weeks later, a group of scavengers led by the unpredictable Strangman, who keeps a flock of sentinel crocodiles, arrives to shake everything up. In the very end, Kerans finds himself on his own crazy journey south, seeking paradise.

In truth, the storyline is very difficult to describe. Just about every character has 'gone troppo', owing to the searing temperatures they're experiencing. The writing is extremely circular, making it difficult to make sense of anything, a feature we decided was intentional. This was not a book to rush through. There are many layers of meaning, although I confess not all of them were apparent to me!

One key theme of the book was the idea of regression of civilisation. This was not limited to social aspects, although these were rife. The Drowned World, being Sci-Fi, actually played with the idea of physical regression/transmutation/evolution, to the point that flora and fauna reminiscent of the Triassic period had emerged as dominant, plus (possibly) the devolution of humans with the formation of gills etc. Part of this involved the idea of cellular memory and a collective consciousness -- as the characters went crazy, they all started having the same dream.

As I said earlier, we had an animated discussion about this book, because there is an awful lot to interpret and different people saw different things in it.

From my personal point of view, I respect the book more having had our discussion. I finished the book frustrated, having just 'not got it'. I didn't understand any of the character motivations, felt no emotion from any of them, and found the writing style pretentious to the max. It just didn't hit any of my buttons and I didn't care what happened.

This made me ponder the well-coined phrase: "Science Fiction is literature of the mind; Fantasy is literature of the heart".

This is most definitely a 'mind' novel, which is not where I usually choose to read. However, after hearing what other people got out of it, and being exposed to different interpretations, I get more out of it as well. It's a classic case of feeling enriched after a group discussion. There is a lot in this book if one chooses to take the slightly mad journey!

July: The Drowned World (1)

Good turnout for this evening's meeting -- there were 10 of us, including our host. I counted five who had finished the book. JG Ballard's dystopian Science-Fiction novel inspired rather an animated discussion, which I will describe in a day or so.

Of the members who couldn't attend, Allyson sent the following comment for starters:

Quite relevant in today's climate - no pun intended. Interesting concept about how the world was able to de-volve so quickly to its prehistoric status. Also, I found myself skipping over the 'fight' between our hero (name escapes me) and Strangeman's crew (where they tied him up and put a mask on him.) Too reminiscent of Lord of the Flies for my liking.

Currently Reading . . .

Next meeting is Thursday 3 July.

My thoughts on Buffy and Angel

Although I found some of the Buffy and Angel comics in the local comic book shop (we have one just on our street actually), I was not able to find the numbers that were chosen. In the end, I downloaded them and just finished reading them with a very cool program called ComicBookLover (runs on Mac OSX). I must say, I was quite impressed by this program as it was very easy to use and handled both the page views and turning the page very nicely. Would highly recommend it for comic lovers alike.

But returning back to the books. Having only watched Buffy sporadically, and I am not sure that I ever saw Angel, I only had extremely vague recollections of what happened at the end of the Buffy series. So to then read the comic that takes place after the end of the TV series, I must say it was not all that easy to follow. I had to recall who was who and yet even then, I wasn't sure how all the characters ended up in the later stages of the series. So plot-wise, I was a bit lost.

I also have to admit that I haven't read many comic books in recent years, but it was fun to read these ones. I liked very much the tone of the writing, with the odd sarcastic comment or joke thrown in for good measure. I recall that Buffy was one for seeing the lighter side of things in the series, so it was nice to see that this element was continued in the comic. It seemed to me, however, that the Angel comic was much more darker, both in the images and the plot, compared to the Buffy comic. As I mentioned, I never saw the TV series of Angel, but if I remember correctly, it also seemed to be darker than Buffy. Is this indeed the case, or am I just imaging things? In that regard, is Buffy meant to appeal more to a female audience and Angel to men?

Buffy and Angel live on through graphic novels

Let's kick off this blog with a discussion about the two graphic novels we've just read:

Buffy the vampire slayer: The Long Way Home (Season 8, Volume 1)

Angel: After the Fall

I have just blogged about this over at Forge&Brew.

Thoughts anyone?