Showing posts with label Nostalgia Tour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nostalgia Tour. Show all posts

Monday, February 8, 2016

THE GIVER // Nostalgia Tour #1


Rating: Five Stars—ajklsdflk (when words fail to describe how wonderful a book is)


Years and years ago, when I read THE GIVER (click the link for a summary) as a tiny, young person, I didn’t catch much of the detail and depth. Granted, I knew that it was good, and I could sense that it was deep, but my small mind wasn’t large enough to go beyond that. So this time around, I was really excited to delve into the story and figure out why it stuck with me. 

The Symbolism. Oh my goodness, there’s so much I could talk about under this category, but I’ll limit myself to a couple points. For one thing, Jonas’ job and his subsequent isolation from his peers quite accurately depicts the way many children feel growing up. After all, it is a common mark of childhood to feel lonely and separated from the rest of the herd, whether for reasons real or perceived. Alongside this, the pain Jonas must experience in his job mirrors the pain of growing up and losing innocence—the pain of seeing the world for what it really is. Like Jonas, as we become adults, we often learn a great deal of stuff we wish we didn’t have to know, and it weighs on us in much the same way that the Giver’s memories weigh on him. 

Emotions. With their feelings-sharing exercises, the people in THE GIVER seem rather focused on emotions. But for such emotions-oriented folk, they are rather callous and unfeeling. In the same way, they maintain strict rules about avoiding rudeness but do not hesitate to be insensitive. Asher gets laughed at for his inability, as a three-year-old, to differentiate between the words “snack” and “smack”, and while that may not seem like such a big deal, the circumstances around that resulted in a painful period of his life—not something that should be joked about. If these people were truly feeling and truly considerate, they would care about details like that. 

Harshness. Beneath the polite surface, these people offer very little mercy and very little true kindness. Back to the unfortunate trouble with Asher—as a three-year-old, he was punished rather severely for innocent linguistic mistakes that are natural to young children. A society that would put so much pressure on its toddlers is twisted, regardless of how squeaky clean it appears from the outside. This overboard punishment extends to the elderly as well—people who should be afforded leniency and respect at their time of life. It’s quite evident that the government requires perfect behavior, even when that expectation is unreasonable. 

Death. In a community that suffers few accidental or unplanned deaths, you would think this would mean they value life more. After all, they have figured out how to keep people ticking. But this is not the case. It’s quite evident they value life even less now. I won’t expand on the major details, in case you haven’t read the book, but their most unsettling problem is hard to miss, even in some of the smaller circumstances. Take the reference to the little boy, Caleb, who once fell into the river and drowned and was then replaced by another little boy with the same name, as though humans are just interchangeable parts of machinery. 

The System. Their system does work—to a point. They have less crime. The streets are safer. People are more polite and more careful with their language. Everyone makes sure to be politically correct. But all of these “improvements” have come at great cost. In order to achieve this level of peacefulness, humans have had to surrender their humanity—their free will, their emotions, and their thoughts. They have had to remove all the spice of life—sunlight, weather, heat, cold, different skin tones, different features, history, everything. They have become mindless cattle that embrace their oblivion as they calmly wait for the slaughterhouse at the end of the road. And all of this begs the question—is the commonly idealized Utopia just another from of dystopia in the end? 



What about you, my little coffee beans? Have you read THE GIVER? What are your thoughts on the story? Do you agree/disagree with me? What are some points I missed?

Friday, February 5, 2016

Books that Shaped Me // Round Three


Well, my little coffee beans, today’s post will be the final installment in my “Books that Shaped Me” mini-series. Over the past few weeks, I’ve shared with you eighteen of the books that helped form the person I am today (the links are here and here), and it’s been a lot of fun to reminisce and compile a list of the books I specifically need to reread this year. While there are so many I could include, enough to fill a bunch of other posts, I want to share only a few more with you. Perhaps as I near the end of my nostalgia tour, I will add a couple posts to this series, but I make no promises. 




I’ve mentioned this several times before, and I’ll probably mention it a bunch more over the years, but THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA is one of the few books that kept me up past my self-imposed bedtime during high school. The story gripped me with its music and beauty. It hurt to watch Erik long for affection, and it hurt to see him sabotage his chances of receiving actual love. More than that, I was moved by the contrast between the beauty of his voice and his music and the ugliness of his face and his heart.




Of all the books I was exposed to as a young person, Winnie-the-Pooh is my earliest, strongest memory. Right from the get-go, I was struck by Winnie-the-Pooh’s innocence and curiosity, Tigger’s energy, Piglet’s spunk, Owl’s wisdom, Rabbit’s crankiness, Christopher Robin’s imagination, Kanga’s motherliness, Roo’s adventurous spirit, and Eeyore’s struggle with clinical depression. Their adventures captured my mind in a way that many stories haven’t, and I think it’s high time I revisited this chapter of my life. 



It strikes me as rather funny that I wasn’t intensely interested in reading PETER PAN, and the major reason I ended up buying it was because it’s a classic and I was on a classic reading kick. I’m even a little more confused with myself because I had already fallen in love with PETER AND THE STARCATCHERS, which is a Peter Pan retelling. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the thought of reading PETER PAN, I just hadn’t spent any time seeking it out. Regardless of my initial hesitation, I adore this book to Alpha Centauri and beyond. Somehow J.M. Barrie manages to capture the spirit and wonder of childhood while also including the cruelty and thoughtlessness of youth. His characters are simultaneously wise and naive, guilty and innocent, clever and foolish. But I think what struck me most was the idea that the fairies in PETER PAN represent childhood dreams and that the ticking crocodile represents the passage of time and the eventuality of growing up. 




1984 scared me more than THE HUNGER GAMES and more than THE SHADOW CHILDREN. In George Orwell’s famous dystopia, we have a government that has long been under the grip of Socialism. People are helpless and mindless. No one outside of the inner governmental circles is afforded even a shred of privacy. With his all-seeing eye, Big Brother watches everyone, and he has such control that a revolution would be purely impossible. Worse, few would even think to rebel because the government controls all forms of thought—books, music, news articles, historical records, language, and expression. That’s what really got me—nothing frightens me quite so much as the suppression of free ideas and free speech. 


At the time when I read this, I had already been sucked into the Si-Fi universe, but OUT OF THE SILENT PLANET and it’s two sequels were something else entirely. I think the aspects that struck me most were the peaceful introspection and the way C.S. Lewis made thinking out of the box comfortable and enjoyable. Many Christians tiptoe around the concept of aliens because that tends to be seen as at war with the Christian worldview, so I really appreciate how Lewis makes it evident that, if they do indeed exist, it doesn’t mean Christians have to throw out the Bible. 


Through a rich and beautiful retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche, TILL WE HAVE FACES makes it evident that sometimes our issues with God aren’t what we think they are, and if we want to bring our accusations and our grievances to God, we first have to make sure we know what we’re talking about. 


As with A WRINKLE IN TIME, I fell in love with the movie before I read the book. At that time, I had already been going through a prolonged phase where I felt as if I didn’t belong in this century, and LORNA DOONE tapped into my desire for life in the 1600s. I wanted to travel to Exmoor and experience everything for myself—the peaceful lifestyle, the misty moors, the threat of the Doones always looming over the land. Granted, the story was a little slow, but it was a beautiful slowness, and for a few years, I wasn’t willing to travel anywhere without a copy of LORNA DOONE on hand (which is why I have two copies). While I have since learned to be content with all the benefits this century affords (for the most part), I still get incredibly nostalgic about LORNA DOONE, and I will always love it for the needed escape it gave me. (I am also still waiting for the Doctor to come in his big blue box so I can at least visit the 1600s.) 


DRACULA showed me horror/paranormal at its classiest. But I find it oddly telling that I remember the mental patient and his strange habits more vividly than I do the vampires and the threat they present. Ever since I read it years ago, I have been fascinated with the old insane asylums of that period, as well as the antiquated understanding of mental illness during that time. I don’t know if DRACULA instilled that interest in me or if it just awoke a sleeping dragon, but either way, suffering minds fascinate me. 



Before reading THE KILLER ANGELS as part of my history course, I had never considered the Civil War in such a deep light. But this book opened my eyes to the poetry of war—the beauty in the midst of horror. More than that, it illustrates perfectly that war is not a matter of black and white morals—that the people on both sides are equally human and equally sympathetic, regardless of whether their views are entirely correct or not. 


Several years ago, my mom owned an ARC of this, and I convinced her that I needed it more than her because, yeah, I seriously love that book. While I had already been exposed to heavy doses of Fantasy before I sunk my teeth into this one, CHILD OF THE DARK PROPHECY opened my eyes to a whole new sort of Fantasy. I’m not sure how else to explain it, since I haven’t read it in forever, but compared with other Fantasy novels, CHILD OF THE DARK PROPHECY just has a different feel to it. Maybe it’s that it retells the Arthurian legend, and I was a big fan of King Arthur growing up. Or maybe it just feels safe, and I like books that make me feel safe. Either way, I think about it a lot (especially the mood of the story), and I need to reread it and its sequels. 



There are a ton more books I would love to share, but I also have other posts I want to get to, so I’ll just content myself with listing the honorable mentions: 










Well, that’s it for today, my little coffee beans. What about you? Have you read any of these books? What are some of the books that helped shape you? 

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Books that Shaped Me // Round Two


Two Mondays ago I began my nostalgia tour by listing seven books that impacted my younger self and sharing my reading/rereading goals for the year. This week I want to list a few more books that helped shape me. 




THE HUNGER GAMES blew my little eleven-year-old mind (at least, I think I was eleven when I read it). It was cozy and scary, deep and thoughtful, fresh and interesting. When I finally got a copy of my own for Christmas, I’m fairly certain I spent the majority of the next several months reading it over and over again. The idea of children and teenagers being forced to fight to the death for entertainment was so bizarre to me. Yet at the same time, it felt like something that might actually happen—like we had the potential to bring our society to that place one day if we weren’t careful (after all, Rome had popularized gladiator games). Of course, it wasn’t my first taste of the dystopian genre, but it was definitely the one that got me hooked for life, and I will defend it to my dying breath. (You can find my review here.)




THE ROOK is the second book in the Patrick Bowers Files, and I would not recommend giving this series to small children (unless those children answer to nicknames like Little Miss Morbid, in which case they’re probably fine). My sister got me a signed and personalized copy of THE ROOK when Steven James visited her university, and it’s one of the best Christmas presents I’ve ever received. The main detail that grabbed me was that the author allows his main character, Patrick Bowers, to struggle with belief in God and His goodness. In my previous experience with Christian novels, the subject of doubt/bitterness often gets treated like a taboo topic. Christian novelists seem willing to represent these sorts of negative views of God only if the character is made to see the error of his or her ways by the end of the story, even if that means a rather unbelievable change of heart in the climax. That line of thinking does not naturally lead to any sort of honest discussion, and it can make those with struggles feel shamed, marginalized, and misunderstood. That is why I so respect Steven James—instead of writing bad sermons, he writes honest novels. 




No matter how old I get, I will always be fond of this series. One of my best and oldest friends is not much of a reader, so when she bought a copy because the cover looked cool, and then fell in love with the story, I was excited to have something more to discuss with her. (I think I was thirteen at the time.) My sister and I really hit it off on this subject as well. To this day, we still throw random spy tests at each other, like, “Quick, how many grocery bags was that man back there carrying?” And the funny thing is that, at this point, we can usually answer the question correctly. 




This was the first book I remember reading that had a truly bittersweet ending. Up until that point, I had been a little naive in believing that nothing huge can go wrong in stories and that conflict can happen but, in the end, everything has to go back to the way it was. (I know, I was adorable.) Fortunately, THE TWO PRINCESSES OF BAMARRE showed me the beauty and symmetry of a different sort of ending than what I was accustomed to, and I appreciated that. 




Because I read this book (only once) a long while ago, I don’t remember much about the plot. All I know is that it made such an impression on me I tried to write stories set in stone quarries for at least a year afterwards. This one is very high on my reread list. 




THE HOUSE OF THE SCORPION was one of the most disturbing books I read when I was a small thing. Not only did it cover human exploitation and other fun stuff, it also dealt with the moral issue of doing something really bad for really good reasons. Before then, I’m not sure how much I’d been introduced to the concept of moral ambiguity. (I've not read the sequel, THE LORD OF OPIUM, so I need to tackle that one as well.) 




This series was another big eye-opener for me. Even though THE HUNGER GAMES was the story that got me officially hooked on dystopian literature, The Shadow Children Series was what primed me for it. It introduced me to the idea that things could go really wrong—that the people in charge could make rules that were beyond cruel and unreasonable. It also introduced me to the idea of fighting back against injustice. 




I just spent five Mondays discussing this series, so hopefully I already got my point across (you can find the posts here, here, here, here, and here). Boiled down, I loved these books because they treated me like my thoughts and emotions and opinions mattered. For once I felt as though someone understood me. 




Every time I think of ENDER’S GAME, my mind starts to explode all over again. Unlike most of the other books listed in this series of posts, I read this novel when I was closer to seventeen (I think), so I was able to process it more the first time. It showed me how wise and capable children can be—that young people can be so much deeper and more complex than we often realize. It also highlighted how sometimes we do stuff that feels meaningless and unimportant without realizing that we’re changing our world in the process. 




Through the eyes of a society that burns books, I learned to love books with an even greater passion. I learned to value them for what they were—more than just mindless entertainment. Alongside Montag, I learned that stories are ideas, ideas are powerful, and any society that fears ideas is something to be resisted. 




While the concept of aging backwards may be scientifically impossible, I wasn't all that concerned with scientific realism when I first got my grubby paws on this gem. And I was already interested in science (in the abstract) and science fiction at the time, so TURNABOUT just clinched it for me. TURNABOUT also helped fuel my interest in keeping journals because, even though I wasn't growing younger and losing my memories slowly but surely, I figured it was still a good idea to document my existence. (I have such fond memories of this book, I almost freaked out a teeny tiny bit when I momentarily thought I hadn't brought my copy with me to Virginia.) Aside from Lemony Snicket, I don't think any sole author influenced my childhood quite as much as Margaret Peterson Haddix did. 



Well, that’s it for today, little coffee beans. What are some of the books that shaped you? What are some of your all-time favorites? Do you plan to reread anything this year? 

Monday, January 18, 2016

Books that Shaped Me // Round One


I don’t reread books often enough. Out of the 118 books I read last year, only 48 were rereads. Now, before you start squinting at me like I’m crazy (which I am) or really bad at math (which I also am), let me just say that I realize 48, in comparison with 70, is not a pathetically small number. But it’s not a large enough number for me either. I love rereading books. In fact, I love rereading books even more than I love reading them the first time around. Each time I reread a story (unless it’s poorly written and not worth a second glance), it gains more meaning and more emotional significance because, for me at least, stories are like scrapbooks for thoughts. Scrapbooks aren’t worth much if you don’t revisit them from time to time and pore over the pages to reacquaint yourself with all the memories you’ve preserved there. 


So I have decided to go back and reread all the books that helped form me—the ones that shaped my childhood self, opened my mind, and taught me to love imagination. I think it’s valuable for me to come full circle. 

As I take this nostalgia tour of my life, I want to share at least a part of it with you. Which means, over the next few months or so, I’ll post more about other books that shaped me, and I’ll review some of them here. I will also try to review the rest of them on Goodreads  because I’ve made an impromptu resolution to post more reviews there. (My Goodreads account has been sadly neglected.) But, as I do this, I don’t want to take credit for the idea of a nostalgia tour. A while ago, Victoria at Stori Tori’s Blog wrote a lovely post on her top ten most influential books (which you should check out). And even further back, Veronica Roth did her own nostalgia tour which struck me as a brilliant idea (before you ask, yes, I love her blog, and I’ve probably read the whole thing five times). 

All that being said, I’ve set my Goodreads 2016 reading goal to 175 books. If I can do more, that’s wonderful, but I want to read at least 175. And, more importantly, I want at least 88 of those books to be rereads. I could talk forever about the value of rereading, but I plan to do a post on that subject soon, so right now I’ll just share with you seven of the books that impacted my younger self. Who knows, maybe some of these were important to you as well. 




Before I read the book, I watched the movie several times and fell in love with the feel of it. In fact, the only reason my younger self even touched the book (the edition my mom owns has a seriously ugly cover) was because I loved the movie so much. Although the movie and the book are different in terms of smaller plot points (as far as I remember—it was a long time ago), I still recall them both sharing the same tone—the same deep, inexplicable sense of unease. The best way I can describe the atmosphere is as a darker, more concentrated form of that spine-tingling coziness I feel when the rain is falling hard outside and the wind is shrieking around the corners of the house. (Here’s a link to Veronica’s lovely, but spoilery, review.)




This was another book that felt heavy with a deep sense of unease (although it’s a different sort of unease). It was the book that taught me not to take people and society at face value—it taught me to distrust the appearance of beauty and peace and perfection until I’ve seen beneath the surface. I don’t remember much of the actual events, beyond the major plot points, but I do remember Jonas’ conversation with his parents about love and how they only understand love through selfish terms. (Veronica discusses this same conversation in her review, so you should totally check that out.) In this story world, true love has become a foreign concept, which is terrifying to put it mildly. More than that, the sterility of the environment branded itself on my mind—the way these people are basically cattle, and the way they celebrate their bondage. In other words, this book is one of my top priority rereads. 




I reread and reviewed this one last year, so my memory is a lot fresher on the details (I still plan to read it again this year). It’s one of the few books that has kept me up past my self-appointed bed time. It is also one of the very few books that can lay claim to making me cry. The aspect of this story that grabbed me the most is the way it handles the question of what it means to be human (and the way villains can be genuinely nice and considerate but still do awful things). 




This book is one of my most beloved childhood stories. On some deep level, I felt that I really connected with Chiaroscuro and the way he has an ugly heart because it’s been broken and he’s had to stitch it back together (metaphorically speaking, of course). As a young thing, I also wanted to be like Despereaux—someone brave enough to break the mold and do noble, courageous things in the face of a society built on fear. 




I reviewed this one just recently, so I may or may not reread it this year. We’ll see. But this list would be missing an important element if I didn’t include it. After all, Hazel taught me a lot about good leadership skills. 




Growing up, I often fantasized about what it would be like if everyone else on earth were to disappear suddenly and leave the world to me, myself, and I. Aside from the danger of wild animals (if those were still around), this thought was very appealing to me, and it was especially fun to imagine ways to stay alive. (My plans involved eating all the perishables in the abandoned grocery stores and gas stations first, and then rationing the other stuff, like flour and canned goods. For shelter, I figured a grocery store would make the best living arrangement because I could build walls of cans and have plenty of room to store all the food I’d scavenged in my travels.) Z FOR ZACHARIAH was a way for me to appease that desire for solitude in a harmless way—to experience what it feels like to think you’re the last remaining person on earth. So many fond memories. 

I’m also very upset about the movie version that just came out because, from what I’ve seen in the synopsis, they kept approximately two of the major plot points, chucked everything else, introduced a new character and a love triangle, changed Ann’s relationship with Mr. Loomis, altered the ENTIRE point of the story, and just generally did their level best to ruin it. Like, I can’t even tell you how upset I am. As much as I would love to see one of my all-time favorite books played out on the big screen, I think it will be better for my blood pressure if I just skip this one and wait until someone honors the actual story. Although, come to think of it, it might be satisfying to watch the movie just so I can rant more effectively about it. *sulks*




You can read my review for this one here. LIFE AS WE KNEW IT appealed to me in the same way that Z FOR ZACHARIAH did. It has the same sort of idea—a worldwide catastrophe has culled the population (though potentially not as much, in this case), and survival is now a higher priority than entertainment and culture. (I have only read one of the sequels, and I only own LIFE AS WE KNEW IT, so I want to get my hands on the rest of the series this year, if I can.) This story also has somewhat symbolic significance to me in that I read it during my biggest library binge phase. At that time, I didn’t own all that many books, and I hadn’t read all that many either. Sure, I had had my school library before that, but this time I felt freer and wilder, like the world was opening up before me. I think that’s really when my love of reading turned from a little candle to an unfortunate but beautiful house fire. (Saying this, I realize I should probably, at some point, write a post explaining why I’m no longer quite so enamored of libraries.) 



Well, that’s it for today, little coffee beans. What are some of the books that shaped you? What are some of your all-time favorites? What are some books you plan to reread this year? If you’ve watched Z FOR ZACHARIAH, what is your opinion of it?