The Watchmaker of Filigree Street
Natasha Pulley
ISBN: 9781620408339
Sumptuous cover hints at a rich and clockwork-detailed plot, filled with multifaceted characters.
Read November 2015
The most interesting thing about this book is how Pulley manages to keep you from deciding which characters are good guys and which characters are bad guys for the ENTIRE BOOK. It's nothing short of a magic trick all of itself, and it makes the perfect cherry on top of this confection of a story. It's rich and mellow and tooth-achingly dense, and just jammed full of atmosphere like plummy preserves inside an overstuffed tart. From the very first paragraphs, you realise that you're in for something enjoyable, but it's the absolute opposite of a light quick read - it's dense and full of philosophy and humanity and the big important questions of free will and fate and predestination. Yet even so it doesn't feel like a slog - it all just seems naturally flowing from the premise, which I'm not even going to hint at here, because it's so amazingly absurd and complicatedly simple. If you like peculiar characters studies, and atmospheric steampunky London, you'll be right at home here.
Showing posts with label Japan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Japan. Show all posts
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Picture Book/Graphic Novel: The Yellow Jar, vol. 1, Patrick Atangan
This was an odd little book, so I snagged it as it came through delivery.
The Yellow Jar, vol. 1: Two Tales from Japanese Tradition
Patrick Atangan
ISBN: 1561633313
Ukiyo-e comic presentation of The Yellow Jar and Two Chrysanthemum Maidens.
I enjoyed these, but I felt that the presentation and the tales were rather flat. I have felt this before about Japanese folktales, so I am absolutely sure that is an artifact of the traditional narrative telling of these stories, but it has to be said. They're just not paced in a way that my western educated mind appreciates. It's odd, because the stories are full of wild and crazy events, just like folktales and myths from everywhere, but the telling is distancing and depersonalizing.
The Yellow Jar takes up the majority of the book. A fisherman finds an enormous beautiful jar with a sleeping woman inside. He takes her home and buries the jar, and when she wakes, she reveals that she's a fae being who was tasked with marrying either the elephant, the ox, or the man (as a species). She tried both the animals, but they were mean to her in different ways, and she doesn't want to even try with man, because she's seen them from afar and knows they're lying and horrible. She can't go home without her jar, so she swears to marry whoever is kind and honest. The fisherman pledges to be honest, and immediately lies about where her jar is and where he found her. (Of course he does.) She finds out (of course she does) and flees, and is captured by a terrible demon lord. He comes home to find her gone, and realizes it's his own stupid fault, and goes after her. Because the plot demands it, true love (and the elephant and the ox, back for a cameo) win over the terrible demon.
The Two Chrysanthemum Maidens is short and sweet, but odd. A monk tends to his rock garden, until two raggedy-ass weeds invade. For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to root them up, and that fall they blossom into two beautiful flowers - well, one really beautiful yellow flower, and one pale and sickly white one. The monk uproots the yellow one and takes it to a special place in the garden and tends it, while the abandoned white one droops and mourns and slowly dies - until a passing nobleman sees her beauty, uproots her, and uses her image for his family crest. The odd thing is that the flowers are presented in the text straightforwardly as little miniature women, but no one actually in the story treats them as anything but flowers. There is probably some meta-commentary there to be made, but I can't be bothered today.
As a note on the artwork, it was overall very beautiful and inviting to see, but the hands of all of the people are quite peculiar - almost like tentacles or like they're all out of joint. Once I noticed that, it was hard to see anything else for a good long while.
I don't know if I'll bother to hunt down the second volume.
The Yellow Jar, vol. 1: Two Tales from Japanese Tradition
Patrick Atangan
ISBN: 1561633313
Ukiyo-e comic presentation of The Yellow Jar and Two Chrysanthemum Maidens.
I enjoyed these, but I felt that the presentation and the tales were rather flat. I have felt this before about Japanese folktales, so I am absolutely sure that is an artifact of the traditional narrative telling of these stories, but it has to be said. They're just not paced in a way that my western educated mind appreciates. It's odd, because the stories are full of wild and crazy events, just like folktales and myths from everywhere, but the telling is distancing and depersonalizing.
The Yellow Jar takes up the majority of the book. A fisherman finds an enormous beautiful jar with a sleeping woman inside. He takes her home and buries the jar, and when she wakes, she reveals that she's a fae being who was tasked with marrying either the elephant, the ox, or the man (as a species). She tried both the animals, but they were mean to her in different ways, and she doesn't want to even try with man, because she's seen them from afar and knows they're lying and horrible. She can't go home without her jar, so she swears to marry whoever is kind and honest. The fisherman pledges to be honest, and immediately lies about where her jar is and where he found her. (Of course he does.) She finds out (of course she does) and flees, and is captured by a terrible demon lord. He comes home to find her gone, and realizes it's his own stupid fault, and goes after her. Because the plot demands it, true love (and the elephant and the ox, back for a cameo) win over the terrible demon.
The Two Chrysanthemum Maidens is short and sweet, but odd. A monk tends to his rock garden, until two raggedy-ass weeds invade. For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to root them up, and that fall they blossom into two beautiful flowers - well, one really beautiful yellow flower, and one pale and sickly white one. The monk uproots the yellow one and takes it to a special place in the garden and tends it, while the abandoned white one droops and mourns and slowly dies - until a passing nobleman sees her beauty, uproots her, and uses her image for his family crest. The odd thing is that the flowers are presented in the text straightforwardly as little miniature women, but no one actually in the story treats them as anything but flowers. There is probably some meta-commentary there to be made, but I can't be bothered today.
As a note on the artwork, it was overall very beautiful and inviting to see, but the hands of all of the people are quite peculiar - almost like tentacles or like they're all out of joint. Once I noticed that, it was hard to see anything else for a good long while.
I don't know if I'll bother to hunt down the second volume.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
So Many New Arrivals! 2/4: Hannah's Night & Arto's Big Move
Two for gently explaining potentially-scary life events: moving, and waking in the night.
Hannah's Night
Komako Sakai (translated by Cathy Hirano)
ISBN: 9781877579547
Curiously-scratched and partially-effaced drawings (grease pencils? charcoals?) are startling and enticing.
Hannah has woken in the night, and her sister and parents are all still fast asleep. The translator uses British English (or perhaps New Zealander English?) instead of American English, which might give some people pause over phrasing or word-choice, but I thought was quaint and appealing. Hannah's nighttime prowling may also upset some who prefer kids to immediately find parents for advice, but I liked that the self-sufficient little girl (and one self-important tabby cat) are unphazed by the darkness and solitude, and take care of their own needs quite handily before heading back to bed (but not before borrowing the sleeping sister's prized possessions.
Arto's Big Move
Monica Arnaldo
ISBN: 9781771470667
Arto, from the cold North, is not thrilled when his parents move Southwest for a year. A friendly fellow-traveling girl helps him adapt to changes.
Arto quite likes his winter routine of dressing in layers of socks, pants, coat, gloves, and hat, before going outside into the cold. Now that he's in the hot, dry Southwest, his routine is not so useful, but he's having trouble giving it up. A friendly girl comes by and over time, slowly gets him to adapt his dressing routine (and his attitude) about the Southwest, just in time for him to move back North again, and see if perhaps his routine there can't be adapted also. Very sweet, and super useful for kids who are very attached to routines and consistent behavior patterns.
Hannah's Night
Komako Sakai (translated by Cathy Hirano)
ISBN: 9781877579547
Curiously-scratched and partially-effaced drawings (grease pencils? charcoals?) are startling and enticing.
Hannah has woken in the night, and her sister and parents are all still fast asleep. The translator uses British English (or perhaps New Zealander English?) instead of American English, which might give some people pause over phrasing or word-choice, but I thought was quaint and appealing. Hannah's nighttime prowling may also upset some who prefer kids to immediately find parents for advice, but I liked that the self-sufficient little girl (and one self-important tabby cat) are unphazed by the darkness and solitude, and take care of their own needs quite handily before heading back to bed (but not before borrowing the sleeping sister's prized possessions.
Arto's Big Move
Monica Arnaldo
ISBN: 9781771470667
Arto, from the cold North, is not thrilled when his parents move Southwest for a year. A friendly fellow-traveling girl helps him adapt to changes.
Arto quite likes his winter routine of dressing in layers of socks, pants, coat, gloves, and hat, before going outside into the cold. Now that he's in the hot, dry Southwest, his routine is not so useful, but he's having trouble giving it up. A friendly girl comes by and over time, slowly gets him to adapt his dressing routine (and his attitude) about the Southwest, just in time for him to move back North again, and see if perhaps his routine there can't be adapted also. Very sweet, and super useful for kids who are very attached to routines and consistent behavior patterns.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
The Sandman: The Dream Hunters (graphic novel), Neil Gaiman, P. Craig Russell
The Sandman: The Dream Hunters (graphic novel)
Neil Gaiman, illustrated by P. Craig Russell, colors by Lovern Kindzierski
Based on the illustrated novella by Neil Gaiman and Yoshitaka Amano
ISBN: 9781401224240
Read January 15, 2014
Snap judgement: it was nifty, but I still like the original better.
That said, there were a few individual places where I thought the story benefitted from the style of comic panels, or from specific artistic choices.
Firstly, the fox actually has green eyes! I wouldn't trade Amano's stylized faces for the world, but it was nice to see expressions and actual eyeballs on the monk and fox.
I loved the use of the red and white robe for the fox's human form. There were a few panels in particular that were just nicely done; when she jumps over the fire and changes, when she is teasing the onmyoji, and when the dreamland pair shifts from man and fox to a couple.
I loved that the use of Dream's white-on-black text made the Fox King's identity more obvious.
I liked that the onmyoji was fat and somewhat attractive, and the sequence showing his fears was very well done.
I LOVED the trio of weavers. Super-nasty and disturbing.
The sequence where the monk walked into Dreaming was very powerful in this version, because more of the landscape and events were pictured. The destruction of the geta, and the interactions with Cain and Abel in particular were haunting.
I also am glad that I read the original first, because I could see in my mind the text behind many of the image sequences (like the fox eating the frog), but it did make me aware of at least one minor alteration; the grandfather originally choked on a mochi and here that phrase was altered to an 'unripe peach.' Made me wonder why alter that, and not just change it to "rice cake" and for that matter, why that, and leave onmyoji or oni or tengu as they are?
As an aside, I find myself uncomfortably aware of my prudish American upbringing, where reading text about 'private' body parts is a-ok, but actually seeing them is somehow worse. I'm trying to get past that myself, but if a child wanted to read this story, I have to admit I'd rather they read the illustrated novella than looked at the graphic novel. Graphic indeed, I suppose.
Final verdict: if you are somehow prevented from owning both versions, then the original is still the best choice. I just can't express how perfect the artistic partnership is between those two masters of their media.
However, in the real world, where people have bookshelves full of The Sandman, this is a beautiful and haunting addition in it's own right, and does a lovely job of adapting the original to another medium without feeling like a copy, but without losing the soul of the story.
Neil Gaiman, illustrated by P. Craig Russell, colors by Lovern Kindzierski
Based on the illustrated novella by Neil Gaiman and Yoshitaka Amano
ISBN: 9781401224240
Read January 15, 2014
Snap judgement: it was nifty, but I still like the original better.
That said, there were a few individual places where I thought the story benefitted from the style of comic panels, or from specific artistic choices.
Firstly, the fox actually has green eyes! I wouldn't trade Amano's stylized faces for the world, but it was nice to see expressions and actual eyeballs on the monk and fox.
I loved the use of the red and white robe for the fox's human form. There were a few panels in particular that were just nicely done; when she jumps over the fire and changes, when she is teasing the onmyoji, and when the dreamland pair shifts from man and fox to a couple.
I loved that the use of Dream's white-on-black text made the Fox King's identity more obvious.
I liked that the onmyoji was fat and somewhat attractive, and the sequence showing his fears was very well done.
I LOVED the trio of weavers. Super-nasty and disturbing.
The sequence where the monk walked into Dreaming was very powerful in this version, because more of the landscape and events were pictured. The destruction of the geta, and the interactions with Cain and Abel in particular were haunting.
I also am glad that I read the original first, because I could see in my mind the text behind many of the image sequences (like the fox eating the frog), but it did make me aware of at least one minor alteration; the grandfather originally choked on a mochi and here that phrase was altered to an 'unripe peach.' Made me wonder why alter that, and not just change it to "rice cake" and for that matter, why that, and leave onmyoji or oni or tengu as they are?
As an aside, I find myself uncomfortably aware of my prudish American upbringing, where reading text about 'private' body parts is a-ok, but actually seeing them is somehow worse. I'm trying to get past that myself, but if a child wanted to read this story, I have to admit I'd rather they read the illustrated novella than looked at the graphic novel. Graphic indeed, I suppose.
Final verdict: if you are somehow prevented from owning both versions, then the original is still the best choice. I just can't express how perfect the artistic partnership is between those two masters of their media.
However, in the real world, where people have bookshelves full of The Sandman, this is a beautiful and haunting addition in it's own right, and does a lovely job of adapting the original to another medium without feeling like a copy, but without losing the soul of the story.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
The Sandman: The Dream Hunters, Neil Gaiman & Yoshitaka Amano
The Sandman: The Dream Hunters
Neil Gaiman, illustrated (lavishly) by Yoshitaka Amano
October 1999, Vertigo/DC
ISBN: 1563895730 (hardcover)
Re-read January 14, 2014
I devoured this when it first came out, the lush story, the breathtaking art, the unearthly beauty of the Dream King, the faux-historical background, the joy of having a familiar character inhabiting another world that I was passionate about.
Since then, I've browsed through it many times, sighing over the artistry, reading bits and snippets, but rarely the whole thing. Until today, when I finally got my hands on P. Craig Russell's graphic adaptation, and just had to compare the two. I've just finished the original again, and it's still breathtaking.
I wish I had better wordcraft to explain how the haunting fall and wash of the paintings makes my chest ache with that tug that is part awe in the face of beauty, and part sadness that life must move on and won't allow you to stay entranced forever. I wish I could craft a silver and jet net of words to provide a setting of suitable filigree to set this faceted, jeweled, exotic gothic fable into, but I can't.
Just read it, and look at it, and know that craftsmen do exist, and the craft is glorious and good.
Neil Gaiman, illustrated (lavishly) by Yoshitaka Amano
October 1999, Vertigo/DC
ISBN: 1563895730 (hardcover)
Re-read January 14, 2014
I devoured this when it first came out, the lush story, the breathtaking art, the unearthly beauty of the Dream King, the faux-historical background, the joy of having a familiar character inhabiting another world that I was passionate about.
Since then, I've browsed through it many times, sighing over the artistry, reading bits and snippets, but rarely the whole thing. Until today, when I finally got my hands on P. Craig Russell's graphic adaptation, and just had to compare the two. I've just finished the original again, and it's still breathtaking.
I wish I had better wordcraft to explain how the haunting fall and wash of the paintings makes my chest ache with that tug that is part awe in the face of beauty, and part sadness that life must move on and won't allow you to stay entranced forever. I wish I could craft a silver and jet net of words to provide a setting of suitable filigree to set this faceted, jeweled, exotic gothic fable into, but I can't.
Just read it, and look at it, and know that craftsmen do exist, and the craft is glorious and good.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Eight Million Gods, Wen Spencer
Eight Million Gods, Wen Spencer
ISBN: 9781451638981
Read October 22, 2013
Fantasy: Modern-Mythic Japan via hypographic expat American.
Eh...
I really wanted to like this, and the ideas were awesome, but the
second half just completely fell apart. There was a real sense that it
was rushed to printing, with no chance to look into even basic things
like plotholes, dropped characters, and logical progression of
abilities.
Nikki is in Japan after having narrowly escaped her
mother, who is hell-bent on putting her into an institution due to her
hypographia, which manifests as writing horrible graphic death scenes
for characters which pop into her head fully-formed.
The world turns out to be more complex than she
imagined, as she enters a world of Kami and yokai, and learns that
instead of having a mental disorder, she's really a Seer - and all those
horrible deaths she's written? Totally true, actually happening to real people. Ugh.
Here's where things get interesting, and also fall
apart. Characters appear and then vanish for a time, intentions are set
up and then left stagnant, and even important character developments
(TRUE LOVE!!!1!!) happen in the space of a paragraph.
That's not even counting the actual climax of the book, where
everything established so far gets tossed aside for an ending that is
not only confusing, but seems totally implausible in the world as given
to us so far. An unreliable narrator will only get you so far with
this, and the overly chipper finale just made the entire journey seem
even more unrealistic.
Specific disgruntlements:
WTF happened with Atsumori? Dropped like a hot rock, no closure whatsoever, and he was my favorite character.
When
you name a character "Scary Cat Dude" you need to have him be a scary
cat dude in an ACTION SCENE - not just locked in a cage.
Power-creep progression. Nikki begins the story not able to handle stress
without uncontrollable, unfocused writing, sometimes for hours. Then she can
handle stress without writing by frantically clicking a pen, and getting
to the writing ASAP. Next she can handle stress without writing at all, then or later.
Not satisfied with that, then she moves into handling stress just fine, and can guide the "uncontrollable" writing to
focus on a specific person. Next? Guiding the writing to specify time or
scene desired. Still not enough, as then we're told that she can write multiple options for reality and then choose
the best. Seems that's not quite enough, so then she writes in blood and causes the writing to manifest. Finally, not happy with the already earthshattering graphically-based powers laid onto the heroine, Nikki finishes up by IMAGINING a scene, and
causes the imagined scene to manifest, therefore wiping a main character entirely out existence in the modern world. Well then. That settles that.
Makes all of her stress and worry and panic from previously in the book
(as well as previously in life) seem a bit silly.
Sadly not a keeper, and not really a recommended
title either. Which is a shame, because Atsumori and Inari really
deserve better.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
The Samurai's Daughter, Robert D. San Souci & Stephen T. Johnson
The Samurai's Daughter, Robert D. San Souci, illus Stephen T. Johnson.
ISBN: 0803711352
ISBN: 0803711352
Re-Read Oct 1, 2013
Picture Book: Kamakura Japanese folk-tale.
The story is straightforward - Samurai has a daughter and trains her as a
Samurai, and then as a lady, but she prefers the active life and fishes
with the women deep-sea divers off the coast. Samurai is banished due
to ruler's "mental instability" to a faraway island. Daughter gets
tired of being alone, and determines to head off to banishment with him,
facing typical quest-narrative difficulties in the process. Once on
the island, she's distracted by a girl getting sacrificed to the sea,
volunteers for the assignment, fights a sea-serpent, and rescues a
drowned statue. Conveniently enough, the statue is that of the ruler,
who is now healed of his mental problems, and summons the Samurai and
his daughter back home to Japan in full glory and honor.
I'm used to seeing Pinkney's drawings with San
Souci's words, so the illustrations were not quite as lavish and
textural as I expected. Johnson did a lovely job, and some of the
panels are very beautiful, but there's a flat quality to them that
heightens the flat nature of the narrative. Sadly, older folktales
aren't always the best at varied story-craft, so the tale itself is
example after example of Daughter breezily conquering challenges with no
real difficulty or peril. That, combined with the pat fairy-tale
ending, is a bit distancing.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Ink, Amanda Sun
Ink, Amanda Sun.
Cover artist: Petra Dufkova
Interior artist: Ross Siu
ISBN: 9780373210708
Read August 21
YA: Gaijin-in-Japan romance/fantasy series starter.
My blogging handle might be a giveaway, but I am fond of Japan. I want to be fond of this book also, but I don't quite know if I am.
I will say that the cover artist is fantastic, and I am most assuredly fond of her work. I'd love to see more in this style.
The story? Ano... betsu ni? It wanted to be awesome, and occasionally got there, but mostly it made me feel like I was watching GTO or Suzuka. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I was expecting more like Spirited Away or AKIRA.
I don't tend to like romancey-YA, so the fact that the romance in this one didn't entirely put me off is a credit to how well Sun flavored the story with authentic (or at least anime-authentic) Japanese youth culture. I mean, while I can't stand YA romances, I do watch Suzuka when I'm in the right mood.
I wish there was more substance to the fantastical elements, and to the mythology that's being plundered, but there's always a hope that more of that will appear down the line. It was enough to explain and draw interest, but not nearly as much as I would have preferred to see. I also would have liked the school-girl-crush segment to not have been nearly the entirety of the book. However, as the story seems to be more of a romance with fantasy elements than a fantasy with a romance sub-plot, I don't really have much room to complain. It is what it is, as much as that's backwards from what I had hoped for.
Between the light touch on the artistic elements and the fantastical bits, and the laser focus on the characters in school, in after-school club activities, and on simply being around in Shizuoka, I found myself often wishing that the author had just teamed up with Ms Dufkova and Mr Siu, and written a manga series. I think it would do quite well in that format.
As it is, it isn't bad, but it's not entirely to my taste. Like red beans, or natto - either you like them or you don't. Ink isn't as bad as natto, but I don't know if it will grow on me or not.
Cover artist: Petra Dufkova
Interior artist: Ross Siu
ISBN: 9780373210708
Read August 21
YA: Gaijin-in-Japan romance/fantasy series starter.
My blogging handle might be a giveaway, but I am fond of Japan. I want to be fond of this book also, but I don't quite know if I am.
I will say that the cover artist is fantastic, and I am most assuredly fond of her work. I'd love to see more in this style.
The story? Ano... betsu ni? It wanted to be awesome, and occasionally got there, but mostly it made me feel like I was watching GTO or Suzuka. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I was expecting more like Spirited Away or AKIRA.
I don't tend to like romancey-YA, so the fact that the romance in this one didn't entirely put me off is a credit to how well Sun flavored the story with authentic (or at least anime-authentic) Japanese youth culture. I mean, while I can't stand YA romances, I do watch Suzuka when I'm in the right mood.
I wish there was more substance to the fantastical elements, and to the mythology that's being plundered, but there's always a hope that more of that will appear down the line. It was enough to explain and draw interest, but not nearly as much as I would have preferred to see. I also would have liked the school-girl-crush segment to not have been nearly the entirety of the book. However, as the story seems to be more of a romance with fantasy elements than a fantasy with a romance sub-plot, I don't really have much room to complain. It is what it is, as much as that's backwards from what I had hoped for.
Between the light touch on the artistic elements and the fantastical bits, and the laser focus on the characters in school, in after-school club activities, and on simply being around in Shizuoka, I found myself often wishing that the author had just teamed up with Ms Dufkova and Mr Siu, and written a manga series. I think it would do quite well in that format.
As it is, it isn't bad, but it's not entirely to my taste. Like red beans, or natto - either you like them or you don't. Ink isn't as bad as natto, but I don't know if it will grow on me or not.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Stormdancer, Jay Kristoff
Stormdancer (The Lotus War, Book One)
Author: Jay Kristoff
Thomas Dunne, 2012
ISBN: 9781250001405
Steampunk Bushido in a ravaged Japan-analogue where "blood lotus" destroys the land, but makes airships, trains, and mechanized armor and weaponry possible. Crazed young Emperor demands his Hunters return to him with a mythical Arashitora - a giant griffin.
Really mixed feelings about this one.
Spoilers aplenty - you've been warned.
First real set of grouses - the metal-encased priests. I'm left not entirely sure what their motivations are, and whether they really believe their rites and taboos, or if that's just to keep the rank and file in line. It bugs me that they're so much of a player, but they're left nearly entirely a mystery. (I know there's a series upcoming - I can still be unhappy about what isn't in THIS book.)
Also not happy that the reveal about the "fertilizer" for the red lotus is left until so close to the end and then thrown in casually like that. A potential knockout like that is should be a bit more than "the character goes back home and continues to feel somewhat sorry for the people riding the Soylent Green conveyor belt until he turns a corner and then forgets about them because he has other things on his mind." If you're going for cannibalism and human sacrifice, it just feels odd to have it casually thrown in there.
Red Lotus. So... it's a fuel. And a drug. And clothing. And food. And a lubricant. And a decoration? And.... I start to lose faith in a miracle plant that does all things for all people. Just not realistic to me, magical kingdom or not.
Gritty realism vs romantic inter-species partnership. It could be done where these two genres coexist nicely, I'm sure. But here it's like the fan-fic equivalent of the "magic horsies" of Valdemar (yes, I know they're Companions, and aren't actually horses - I'm making a point here) crashed into Warhammer 40K. I get sucked in by the happy lovely interactive mental/emotional bond and then POW - exploding brains! Severed limbs! Emotionally withdrawn heroes soldiering on while comrades are hacked squishily to death behind them! Yeesh.
The Dad. I feel like I'm being a little unfair with this grouse, but really, the "child who doesn't realize the massive sacrifice dad has made for them until he's gone, and their reunion is seconds before he dies" trope is making me a little nuts. I understand it's difficult to have a teen protagonist really be an active protagonist with parents in the way. I understand that conflict and drama and pain are a great way to build character, and dead/threatened/dying parents are a great easy path to that conflict and drama and pain. I know that having the "mentor" die off in the first book (movie) of the trilogy is the accepted way to go. I got it. But really for the love of goats, try to make it a little varied? I know I'm not the target audience - I read way too many books, and remember them all too well. I also think too hard about all this stuff, and most people don't. But I have to say, if I'm rolling my eyes during the climax of your book because I JUST KNEW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN THAT WAY, GODDAMNIT, it makes it hard for me to connect with the surviving characters and want to continue on with them in the future.
(On the other hand, nice fakeout with the inheritance. That was classy.)
Final grouse - Really didn't like that the Princess was resolved offscreen. Not a fan of that choice at all. Maybe there was a page-number limit, maybe there was a difficulty getting a "face" character over there to see what happened, but unless the author is abusing the "if you don't see them die and see their corpse, they aren't really dead" trope (and I would qualify a between-book resurrection as an abuse) then I feel like she got shafted as a character.
OTHERWISE, I really enjoyed it! :)
Author: Jay Kristoff
Thomas Dunne, 2012
ISBN: 9781250001405
Steampunk Bushido in a ravaged Japan-analogue where "blood lotus" destroys the land, but makes airships, trains, and mechanized armor and weaponry possible. Crazed young Emperor demands his Hunters return to him with a mythical Arashitora - a giant griffin.
Really mixed feelings about this one.
Spoilers aplenty - you've been warned.
First real set of grouses - the metal-encased priests. I'm left not entirely sure what their motivations are, and whether they really believe their rites and taboos, or if that's just to keep the rank and file in line. It bugs me that they're so much of a player, but they're left nearly entirely a mystery. (I know there's a series upcoming - I can still be unhappy about what isn't in THIS book.)
Also not happy that the reveal about the "fertilizer" for the red lotus is left until so close to the end and then thrown in casually like that. A potential knockout like that is should be a bit more than "the character goes back home and continues to feel somewhat sorry for the people riding the Soylent Green conveyor belt until he turns a corner and then forgets about them because he has other things on his mind." If you're going for cannibalism and human sacrifice, it just feels odd to have it casually thrown in there.
Red Lotus. So... it's a fuel. And a drug. And clothing. And food. And a lubricant. And a decoration? And.... I start to lose faith in a miracle plant that does all things for all people. Just not realistic to me, magical kingdom or not.
Gritty realism vs romantic inter-species partnership. It could be done where these two genres coexist nicely, I'm sure. But here it's like the fan-fic equivalent of the "magic horsies" of Valdemar (yes, I know they're Companions, and aren't actually horses - I'm making a point here) crashed into Warhammer 40K. I get sucked in by the happy lovely interactive mental/emotional bond and then POW - exploding brains! Severed limbs! Emotionally withdrawn heroes soldiering on while comrades are hacked squishily to death behind them! Yeesh.
The Dad. I feel like I'm being a little unfair with this grouse, but really, the "child who doesn't realize the massive sacrifice dad has made for them until he's gone, and their reunion is seconds before he dies" trope is making me a little nuts. I understand it's difficult to have a teen protagonist really be an active protagonist with parents in the way. I understand that conflict and drama and pain are a great way to build character, and dead/threatened/dying parents are a great easy path to that conflict and drama and pain. I know that having the "mentor" die off in the first book (movie) of the trilogy is the accepted way to go. I got it. But really for the love of goats, try to make it a little varied? I know I'm not the target audience - I read way too many books, and remember them all too well. I also think too hard about all this stuff, and most people don't. But I have to say, if I'm rolling my eyes during the climax of your book because I JUST KNEW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN THAT WAY, GODDAMNIT, it makes it hard for me to connect with the surviving characters and want to continue on with them in the future.
(On the other hand, nice fakeout with the inheritance. That was classy.)
Final grouse - Really didn't like that the Princess was resolved offscreen. Not a fan of that choice at all. Maybe there was a page-number limit, maybe there was a difficulty getting a "face" character over there to see what happened, but unless the author is abusing the "if you don't see them die and see their corpse, they aren't really dead" trope (and I would qualify a between-book resurrection as an abuse) then I feel like she got shafted as a character.
OTHERWISE, I really enjoyed it! :)
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Kamishibai Man; The Boy in the Garden, Allen Say
Both of these by Allen Say are sweet stories of Japan that aren't set in a mythic past, or in a hectic multicultural super-technological present. They're in that sweet spot just between, where anything can happen.
Kamishibai is an old street-performers' art, somewhat like the American idea of flannelboards, silhouette theatres, or shadow-box presentations. Drawings on screens are placed in a box frame, with others behind them, and the progression of the drawings illustrates stories that the Kamishibai Man tells as he draws children in to get them to buy his candy and small toys so he can make a living. A lot of Kamishibai artists moved into anime or manga when those avenues opened up, and now the art form is mainly used in schools or as a demonstration of history.
This story follows an old man who used to sell candies in a small city, before the arrival of TV took all the children inside. In a nostalgic moment, he decides to head into town to tell stories again, and he remembers the way things were as he travels. Once there, everything is changed, and there are no children in sight. However, the business-people remember him from their childhood, and he even makes the evening news as he tells his story and passes out his candy as he did in the past. Sweet and a little sad, just like all of Allen Say's work, with dignified artwork that uses a softer edge to show memories, in contrast with the clear crisp detail of the present day.
This could be really interesting to pair with an American story of similar time and culture changes, such as When I Was Young in the Mountains, by Cynthia Rylant.
With The Boy in the Garden, Say shows a little boy re-imagining the Japanese fairy-tale "The Snow Crane," where a man rescues a crane from a trap, and soon meets and marries a beautiful woman who weaves fabric that lets them become comfortable, then well-off. When the man wishes to become even richer, and spies on his wife while she reluctantly works, she chastises him, changes back into her original crane form, and flies away forever.
In Say's frame story, the young boy Jiro goes with his father to wish a nearby rich old man a Happy New Year. While the adults visit, Jiro explores the beautiful gardens (seeing a sculpture of a snowy crane) and eventually finds the tiny teahouse, where he has an adventure in the snowy night with a beautiful woman. Jiro struggles to change the fairy-tale's sad ending with his foreknowledge, and to protect the woman, but he is interrupted by his father, who has come to fetch him back home. In the end, the father and son walk back through the garden together, commenting on the lifelike form of the beautiful crane sculpture.
I think this story would also go well with Willy and the Cardboard Boxes (Lizi Boyd), which also has a small boy entertaining himself with his imagination (and falling asleep in the process) while adults are occupied otherwise.
Kamishibai is an old street-performers' art, somewhat like the American idea of flannelboards, silhouette theatres, or shadow-box presentations. Drawings on screens are placed in a box frame, with others behind them, and the progression of the drawings illustrates stories that the Kamishibai Man tells as he draws children in to get them to buy his candy and small toys so he can make a living. A lot of Kamishibai artists moved into anime or manga when those avenues opened up, and now the art form is mainly used in schools or as a demonstration of history.
This story follows an old man who used to sell candies in a small city, before the arrival of TV took all the children inside. In a nostalgic moment, he decides to head into town to tell stories again, and he remembers the way things were as he travels. Once there, everything is changed, and there are no children in sight. However, the business-people remember him from their childhood, and he even makes the evening news as he tells his story and passes out his candy as he did in the past. Sweet and a little sad, just like all of Allen Say's work, with dignified artwork that uses a softer edge to show memories, in contrast with the clear crisp detail of the present day.
This could be really interesting to pair with an American story of similar time and culture changes, such as When I Was Young in the Mountains, by Cynthia Rylant.
With The Boy in the Garden, Say shows a little boy re-imagining the Japanese fairy-tale "The Snow Crane," where a man rescues a crane from a trap, and soon meets and marries a beautiful woman who weaves fabric that lets them become comfortable, then well-off. When the man wishes to become even richer, and spies on his wife while she reluctantly works, she chastises him, changes back into her original crane form, and flies away forever.
In Say's frame story, the young boy Jiro goes with his father to wish a nearby rich old man a Happy New Year. While the adults visit, Jiro explores the beautiful gardens (seeing a sculpture of a snowy crane) and eventually finds the tiny teahouse, where he has an adventure in the snowy night with a beautiful woman. Jiro struggles to change the fairy-tale's sad ending with his foreknowledge, and to protect the woman, but he is interrupted by his father, who has come to fetch him back home. In the end, the father and son walk back through the garden together, commenting on the lifelike form of the beautiful crane sculpture.
I think this story would also go well with Willy and the Cardboard Boxes (Lizi Boyd), which also has a small boy entertaining himself with his imagination (and falling asleep in the process) while adults are occupied otherwise.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Previously Published Review: Heart of A Samurai, Margi Preus
I read this today (Spring 2011), and was amazed at how few reviews there are for it!
Preus has created a wonderful trip through the adolescent adventures of a very real man, a Japanese fisherman by birth, who became in a sense a citizen of two disparate nations.
I'll share and move past my only disappointment quickly - the leader tag on the cover trumpets "a true adventure on the high seas." Well, seafaring is important to the story, and there are several different episodes on various voyages and vessels, but they are not weighted more heavily than the rest of the tale, which covers territory from California gold-panning to Imperial interrogation. I was hoping for more high-seas adventure, but the disappointment was mild.
I love the speed and crispness of the narration, skipping past whole months or years at a time, and then pausing for an afternoon of horse-racing or shell-collecting on the beach. I love the non-sentimental look at the differences between American and Japanese cultures of the time, and the downsides and blindsides of each. I love the way that important moral questions are raised, but not allowed to swamp the narrative.
This is a perfect intro to anyone interested in Japanese/American relations, or in Japan at the very ending of her long isolation, or in comparitive culture studies, or simply in the life of an interesting young boy at a tipping-point in history.
Beautiful illustrations (most created by the real-life Manjiro) abound inside the book itself, and a short biography and history lesson, as well as more information about his futher life appear at the ending, along with a note about extinctions and the practice of whaling and of harvesting albatross for their feathers.
The book is divided into very short sections, each beginning with a quote from the Book of the Samurai, and usually accompanied by an illustration as well. These sections are perfectly balanced, breaking up the sections of Manjiro's life into sensible and compact sections.
This one is going on my list for use in history and culture lessons, with very high expectations.
Preus has created a wonderful trip through the adolescent adventures of a very real man, a Japanese fisherman by birth, who became in a sense a citizen of two disparate nations.
I'll share and move past my only disappointment quickly - the leader tag on the cover trumpets "a true adventure on the high seas." Well, seafaring is important to the story, and there are several different episodes on various voyages and vessels, but they are not weighted more heavily than the rest of the tale, which covers territory from California gold-panning to Imperial interrogation. I was hoping for more high-seas adventure, but the disappointment was mild.
I love the speed and crispness of the narration, skipping past whole months or years at a time, and then pausing for an afternoon of horse-racing or shell-collecting on the beach. I love the non-sentimental look at the differences between American and Japanese cultures of the time, and the downsides and blindsides of each. I love the way that important moral questions are raised, but not allowed to swamp the narrative.
This is a perfect intro to anyone interested in Japanese/American relations, or in Japan at the very ending of her long isolation, or in comparitive culture studies, or simply in the life of an interesting young boy at a tipping-point in history.
Beautiful illustrations (most created by the real-life Manjiro) abound inside the book itself, and a short biography and history lesson, as well as more information about his futher life appear at the ending, along with a note about extinctions and the practice of whaling and of harvesting albatross for their feathers.
The book is divided into very short sections, each beginning with a quote from the Book of the Samurai, and usually accompanied by an illustration as well. These sections are perfectly balanced, breaking up the sections of Manjiro's life into sensible and compact sections.
This one is going on my list for use in history and culture lessons, with very high expectations.
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