Brave New World

After reading Brave New World I've become quite fascinated with dystopian novels. It's very interesting to read about societies so controlled and different from my own, and the psychology behind it - it really makes sense, although it could never be right. It's also incredible when you realize how easily people can be conditioned. We want  patterns. We hate responsibility. To have all that taken away, to operate at a level best suited to you, with minimal attachments - some people would probably love a chance like that.

"Oh, I love it when the kids play their sex games together." (IT'S FROM THE BOOK OKAY)

What struck me about Brave New World was how ahead of his time Huxley was. I felt like I was reading something so closely contemporary (this is kind of a side note, not really cohesive to the point.

Novels such as these hit on interests we sometimes bury so deep we don't even realize they're there: the desire to give up control, to fit in with familiar and comforting patterns, to belong to a cohesive whole. when we read about it, we are able to experience it without actually experiencing it, and that gives us enough excitement.

Then afterwards, we can breathe a little sigh of relief that's it's just fiction. Then we start to get a little paranoid about just how much that pesky government's hiding....

...and he's judging you SO hard right now.

A Wind in the Door

I love Madeleine L'Engle. In fact, I remember crying on September 6, 2007 when I found out she'd passed away.

I can't say what it is that I love so much about her - perhaps it's the way she makes it look so easy, or her gentle and virtuous characters that are such a pleasure to read. Perhaps it all began on that first line of A Wrinkle in Time: 


"It was a dark and stormy night." That stuck with me for seven years.

"Weeeee!"

When I pick up A Wind in the Door, it's always lovingly. I think one of the things I love most about L'Engle is her ability to introduce fantastic elements so frankly as to make the reader feel as if nothing alarming is going on. It's a trait I greatly admire, and one I hope to someday emulate.

She can write anything, and the reader will never one put the book down, brow creased in confusion, saying, "what?" On top of that, she never once has to justify herself. She gives you a character, and says only what she has to, and by the end of the encounter you feel as if you've known them for years. It's amazing.

On top of that, her prose is so smooth, so effortlessly fluid, that I am able to immerse myself completely in the novel and it takes no effort at all. That is mainly what this post is about - I suposse I should've retitled it "Tips for Good Writing, according to the works of the Late Ms. L'Engle."

Daughter of Smoke and Bone and the Twilight Syndrome

There's a weird trend going on in YA fantasy these days, one that gets more and more troubling with each book I read.

It starts when I pick up an awesome-looking title at the bookstore/library/St. Mark's High School, room 331. The premise looks fascinating, the book jacket enticing, and sure enough, the first 100 pages fly by with a breeze. There have been so many new YA titles coming out these past few years, what with Harry Potter and the Twilight saga already collecting dust on the shelves. 

These books start out promising enough. A strong, usually female main character with great looks, killer attitude, and a mysterious world to discover takes the stage, and I'm more than ready to hang on for the ride. The problem starts when I hit about a third of the way through, when the male protagonist enters the scene. 

Suddenly, this isn't a fantasy adventure about a strong-willed character anymore. It's a love story. Just a love story. I've dubbed it the Twilight Syndrome, personally, although I wouldn't be surprised at all if someone else hasn't already been using that term, since I can't be the only one who feels this way. 

This exact phenomenon happened while I was reading Daughter of Smoke and Bone. I absolutely loved it for the first 200 pages - the novel is lush with detail, and Karou is a fresh and entertaining protagonist. Even the setting, in the heart of Prague, added to the mystery and flavor of the book. But once Akiva, her seraphim lover, enters the book, it all goes downhill from there. The plot is almost entirely forgotten as they fall in love in less that a day for inexplicable reasons other than "heat passing between them" whenever they touched - 

- and did I mention they met as Akiva was trying to kill her?

Yes, Karou falls head-over-heels in love with her would-be killer that she narrowly escaped from after suffering major wounds at the tip of his sword, mainly because she becomes captivated by his "otherwordly beauty" and the strange magnetic pull she feels between them. This is where I begin to lose patience. There is no development of romance, no natural progression of a relationship. There is no real love in these books, just automatic attraction that is frankly unhealthy. These supernatural male megahunks turn female protagonists into piles of goo and it's a little painful to read. 

I can't help but feel as if these books send the message that the real purpose for a girl is to stop everything once a hot guy enters their lives. Karou's family is missing, possibly dead, but she forgets all of that as soon as she meets Akiva? Please. 

The worst part is that I keep seeing this pattern repeated over and over again in YA fantasy. And I'm constantly searching for something to help me keep faith in this genre. 

The Giver - the gift that keeps on giving

Last night I stumbled across the magic of New Castle County's new digital library system, and I honestly can't remember the last time I was truly impressed and excited by something so simple as a library. Basically now I can download books from the library right onto my computer and Kindle! It's awesome! With this new power at my disposal, I decided to check out a book that I hadn't read in years: Lois Lowry's The Giver. I was drawn back to The Giver because I'd recently read the dystopian novel Brave New World and started a YA book called Matched (which was so horrible that it inspired me to begin writing my own dystopian novel just to get it published and spite the author), and found myself wanting more of this world. 

"My name is Jonas, I'm carrying the wheel. Thanks for all you've shown us, this is how we feel."

Honestly, The Giver is a classic. The second read-through was quick; I devoured it in little more than a few hours. What was magic in The Giver is the flawless buildup of tension; Lowry's mastery of slowly unfolding Jonas's world piece by piece and letting the reader's horror ever so slowly mount is a fantastic thing to behold. I gasped when I was supposed to, and cried when I was supposed to. The emotions of love and understanding that we all strive for, the feeling of connectivity that we find so naturally in our day-to-day lives is a striking thing when it is completely removed, as in the environment of Jonas's community. Lowry has achieved a great thing, in forcing the reader to take a step back and with startling clarity realize what it is that makes us all human - caring and emotion - while at the same time seeing the dangers in doing so: the risk that comes with sharing all of ourselves with others, of giving our hearts and feelings away, and entrusting another with them. The danger of choice; of making the wrong choice. The danger of failure. But just as happiness is necessary, as is suffering; it is in this balance that we truly appreciate the beauty of life. 

"Giver," Jonas suggested, "you and I don’t need to care about the rest of them."
The Giver looked at him with a questioning smile. Jonas hung his head. Of course they needed to care. It was the meaning of everything.