Albert
Reamde represents the first time that I have been disappointed with a Neal Stephenson book. Before I get into it, I'll start by saying that Stephenson is my favourite author. [b:Snow Crash 830 Snow Crash Neal Stephenson http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1320544000s/830.jpg 493634] became one of my favourite books as soon as I read it, and remains a novel that I feel like reading once every couple years. His essay “[b:In the Beginning...was the Command Line 18937 In the Beginning...was the Command Line Neal Stephenson http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1266452094s/18937.jpg 530507]” (which has now been published as a book), influenced my own personal computing habits, and encouraged me to learn Linux. Even though current technology has made the essay obsolete, the ideas contained within it still inform my views on computers.The common thread that runs through my love of Stephenson's work is his presentation of new ideas. He likes to spit out long infodumps on nerdy details that connect tangentially to the plot (Sumerian history and mythology in Snow Crash, the mathematics of encryption in [b:Cryptonomicon 816 Cryptonomicon Neal Stephenson http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/514E9A0MPEL.SL75.jpg 1166797]) and every time he does, I eat it up. I basically feel like I'm learning something, and as deluded as I may be for thinking that I can get an education by reading fiction, it's very satisfying for me.At first, Reamde gave me what I wanted: it takes the familiar MMORPG concept and adds some neat ideas. There's also some geeky humour about the placement of apostrophes in the nomenclature of the game's fantasy setting. The problems start about a quarter of the way in, when the book turns into an action thriller. Aside from a couple of scenes where some characters meet up and communicate in the online game world, the cool ideas that got me hooked at the beginning are mostly abandoned. The plot revolves around a terrorist plot, and the secret and not-so-secret agents who try to stop the terrorists. In other words, it's like a really long season of 24 (not my favourite show in the world).When the action ramped up, I assumed that it was just a small scene that would bridge into the second part of the novel. Instead, the action pretty much continues for the rest of the way. It's like the climax starts a quarter of the way in, and encompasses three-quarters of the book.I don't mind action, and Stephenson writes it well, but it really feels like a slog when the book is a thousand pages long. Each chapter takes place in one day and are titled as such (e.g. Day 1, Day 15). The “Day 4” chapter lasts for 200+ pages on its own (about 20-25% of the total length). It took me almost a week to get through it and I eventually started thinking to myself, “These characters are still in pretty much the same situation that I was reading about three days ago!”Let me contrast this with the way Stephenson treated action in his earlier work. This sentence ends a chapter in Snow Crash:After that—after Hiro gets onto his motorcycle, and the New South Africans get into their all-terrain pickups, and The Enforcers get into their slick black Enforcer mobiles, and they all go screaming out onto the highway—after that it's just a chase scene.To me, this is a very clever way to jump forward in time. The narrator is breaking the fourth wall and telling the audience, “We all know what a chase scene is, so let's not dwell on it.” Now, imagine replacing this line with 200+ pages of actually describing all the things that happen in the chase scene and you have Reamde.To sum up, I still did enjoy Stephenson's writing style and humour, but it went on way too long. Too much action and plot, not enough ideas. I've pretty much read all of his books more than once, but I don't see myself coming back to Reamde anytime soon.
I've spent most of my life at the intersection of Eastern and Western cultures. When I stumbled upon this book, it made me wonder where I stood. Would my way of thinking match up with one side or the other?
One of the book's main points is that Eastern cultures value interdependence over independence; that is, people are seen as part of a group. Western cultures, on the other hand, are more individualistic; success is measured by personal achievement.
Coincidentally, not long after I finished the book, I had a conversation with my grandma that perfectly illustrates this point. We were talking about work, and I mentioned how my company might be moving offices soon. My Cantonese language skills aren't the best, so sometimes there's miscommunication when I speak to my grandma; she thought I had said that I was changing jobs. When I cleared up the misunderstanding, she seemed relieved.
She said that it's not right to change jobs, because you've formed attachments to the people there and it would be hard to leave. This is not something that I'm used to hearing; often, I get advice that changing jobs will help you get ahead and will be good for your career. I might have been confused by my grandma's words, but seen in the light of what I had just read in the book, it made perfect sense.
For her, work is about being part of a group, one that is not easy to separate yourself from. According to Nisbett, this is classic Eastern philosophy. The opposing viewpoint—that changing jobs is a positive move—is more in line with Western thought because it encourages individual growth.
I wasn't aware that this was a cultural difference, but I know that whenever I imagine myself changing jobs, I always feel conflicted about the idea. On the one hand, there is a sense of guilt that I would be abandoning my team and letting them down. On the other hand, I tell myself that it's a case of misplaced loyalty: it's not personal, it's just business.
I think these two parts of my thought process directly correspond to East and West. Having been exposed to both sides for most of my life, I'm not always aware of where that line is. Now that I've read this book, I think I'll be better able to understand where my instincts come from, and be better able to choose from the best of both worlds.
Since this series of books is so plot-driven, it's hard to discuss without giving anything away. I'll just say that I enjoyed it, and I'm looking forward to see what happens next. I'm also very curious about how HBO is going to film this; it's bigger in scope than the first book and has more big action scenes that will be difficult to bring to the screen. Buy the DVDs, people... they're going to need the money.
Before reading this book, I had been aware of the ideas of cognitive dissonance and self-justification, having encountered them in some day-to-day personal interactions, mostly related to money. (“X is good, and I want it, but I don't want to spend so much money on X... therefore, X is no good and I don't want it!”)
This book studies dissonance in larger real-world situations where the stakes are much higher. Through examples about corrupt politicians, false memories, police interrogations, and others, we see how powerful a force cognitive dissonance can be. The more wrong you are about something, the harder you'll try to convince yourself that you're not wrong. This leads to decisions that can harm many people.
This was an enlightening read, but disturbing at the same time. I came away from it with a hopeless feeling. There don't seem to be any solutions for the problem other than people realizing and admitting to their mistakes, but if self-justification is so ingrained in our minds, how would this actually happen? I don't know.
It was good for the first couple of chapters. I agree that the Internet tends to glorify the participation of the masses, even if those masses produce very little quality. Keen criticizes Wikipedia in particular, which has made me second-guess my own dependence on that site. I've never used Wikipedia for any in-depth research, but I now worry that even the small factoids that I get from it may not be true. I think that we are starting to forget the distinction between content created by experts and by amateurs, and this book does a good job reminding us of that.
In the second half, I think the book loses track of its main argument and devolves into moralizing. It basically boils down to: “The Internet is bad because people get addicted to online poker! And people steal music! And there's too much porn!” These latter chapters seem disconnected from the original thesis of the book, since these problems aren't related to the creation of content by amateurs. While the first part of the book is about the objective quality of content, the second half deals with subjective morals, and it becomes too grounded in the personal values of the author.
Perhaps ironically, the very act of my writing this review (I'm not a professional writer or reviewer) is exactly the kind of thing that this book is arguing against. So I wonder, can anyone really write a review of this book without having an inherent bias?
It was good for the first couple of chapters. I agree that the Internet tends to glorify the participation of the masses, even if those masses produce very little quality. Keen criticizes Wikipedia in particular, which has made me second-guess my own dependence on that site. I've never used Wikipedia for any in-depth research, but I now worry that even the small factoids that I get from it may not be true. I think that we are starting to forget the distinction between content created by experts and by amateurs, and this book does a good job reminding us of that.
In the second half, I think the book loses track of its main argument and devolves into moralizing. It basically boils down to: “The Internet is bad because people get addicted to online poker! And people steal music! And there's too much porn!” These latter chapters seem disconnected from the original thesis of the book, since these problems aren't related to the creation of content by amateurs. While the first part of the book is about the objective quality of content, the second half deals with subjective morals, and it becomes too grounded in the personal values of the author.
Perhaps ironically, the very act of my writing this review (I'm not a professional writer or reviewer) is exactly the kind of thing that this book is arguing against. So I wonder, can anyone really write a review of this book without having an inherent bias?
I read this after enjoying the TV series. The book is good, but I must say the TV show does a pretty good job of covering it. I was able to gloss over some of the more descriptive parts of the book because I had already seen the visual representation and so already had a mental image.
The real test will be when I read the next book, which I want to do before the second season of the show comes out...
It's appropriate that I read [b:Cloud Atlas 49628 Cloud Atlas David Mitchell http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1170360941s/49628.jpg 1871423] not long ago. That novel and A Visit from the Goon Squad share some similarities in structure: both are essentially a set of short stories, each in a different style, that are all connected in some way. Ultimately, I have to say that I enjoyed Cloud Atlas more than Goon Squad.The main difference between the two is the purpose that the structure and style serves. In Cloud Atlas, the structure made me curious as to how the stories would end up connecting to each other. The changes in style worked because they suited the different settings of each story.In Goon Squad, conversely, the structure and style work against the story. The point-of-view change in each chapter makes it difficult to connect to any one character. By the time you get to know a character, their story is pretty much over and we're on to the next one. It didn't help that most of the characters were expressing the same dissatisfaction and sadness over getting old. I know that aging and the passage of time are the themes of the book, but it got a little monotonous because everyone in the story is filled with angst and regret.I respect Egan's writing style for the most part; she definitely expresses ideas very creatively. However, I think she overdoes it in a couple of chapters. The chapter about Rob is narrated in the second person. I don't think there's any reason for it, other than to do something different. It's almost like she wrote it in first person and then simply replaced every “I” with “you.” I kept forgetting that it was narrated this way and had to reorient myself every time I came across the word “you.”The other chapter that bothered me was the PowerPoint chapter, supposedly a presentation put together by a 12-year-old girl. It's almost a shame because I found the girl's autistic brother to be interesting. The brother is obsessed with pauses in songs, and I thought it was a cool concept. Unfortunately, that distinctive character was masked by the quirky format for the chapter.Overall, I didn't really enjoy the book. I admire the technique and writing style, but the lack of an end-to-end narrative and some overly gimmicky sections took me out of it.
Not as good as Oryx and Crake. I found that switching between two main characters took me out of it. It's a bit odd to have one of them narrated in first person, and the other in third person. I don't think it serves any great purpose, and it only caused me to have to adjust every time the perspective changed.
My biggest problem with it is that all the minor characters that Jimmy knew and met independently in Oryx and Crake are shown to have a history together in The Year of the Flood. It was too much of a coincidence and made it seem arbitrary.
Very entertaining and hard to put down. I read the entire third act in one sitting, on the eve of Father's Day, which is interesting considering the plot revelations that come out.
In many instances, the characters surprise you by behaving in ways you don't expect. Some characters are set up to be a certain way, but end up making choices that break out of what a cliched version of the character might do. For example, in an early scene, the principal of the school, who is also the father of the school bullies, resolves a bullying incident by favouring justice over nepotism. It took me by surprise, and it was very satisfying.
Overall, a funny and enjoyable read.
In a way, the title is misleading. I was expecting something like a biography of Genghis Khan, and it is that to start with. I was surprised when the death of Genghis Khan occurred about a third of the way through the book. There's a definite tonal change at this point. The parts about Genghis's early life and eventual rise to power feel more like legends and myths because the research is drawn from stories that were probably passed down orally before being recorded historically. After his death, the book shifts to a more high-level account of his descendants and empire. As the empire grew, so did the number of “proper” historians taking down the events. As a result, the text becomes more encyclopedic and less personal, and I found it less compelling. Still, I learned a lot about a subject that I wasn't that familiar with before, so it's good.
Second time reading the book. Have seen the movie many times. I still find the language and voice entertaining.
I believe this was the first time I've been exposed to the last chapter (older editions have the last chapter cut out, and the movie doesn't adapt the last chapter). I'm not sure how I feel about it. It does provide a nice symmetry to the first chapter, but I thought it was a bit too convenient. It features a character change in Alex that seems like it's just there to make a point and to end it on a positive note.
The thing that struck me most while reading this was how much luck was involved in the operation's success. It's fascinating how such an event as large-scale as the invasion of Sicily was affected by a series of small events that made Operation Mincemeat work. Little things like finding the right photograph to match the dead body, the documents landing in the hands of an anti-Nazi German officer, etc... if any of those things had happened differently, the entire operation could have failed. The book does a good job of revealing these turns of fortune in an entertaining way so that it reads like a suspense novel.
It took me a very long time to read Sacred Games, and it was mostly worth it. There are some powerful moments and I liked the overall setting and style, but it was ultimately a bit uneven.
When I first started reading it, the language took a bit of getting used to. Chandra uses a lot of words in various Indian languages. Even the characters' names were hard to keep track of because they are unfamiliar. There is a large glossary, but I found that it was too cumbersome to flip to it all the time, and it was better just to read on. Usually the context was enough to provide understanding.
Structurally, the novel is quite interesting. Chapters alternate between focussing on Sartaj Singh, a police detective, and Ganesh Gaitonde, a crime boss. The two characters actually meet in the first chapter and Gaitonde dies. The rest of the Gaitonde chapters are flashbacks of his criminal “career” and what lead to his end, while the Sartaj chapters deal with his investigation into the same events. Apart from this alternating series of chapters, there are occasional chapters called “Insets” that have to do with peripheral characters who may or may not affect the main plot.
Because of this structure, the experience is like reading two separate novels, with the Insets acting like short stories thrown into the mix. I thought the Gaitonde story was a bit stronger than Sartaj's. Parts of it reminded me of the De Niro parts of The Godfather Part II, particularly near the beginning when he is working his up the criminal hierarchy. When he becomes the boss, his mental state often fluctuates between aggressive cockiness and paranoid insecurity. I can imagine that the stresses of being the head of a crime organization would do that to you.
One of my favourite chapters was the Inset revolving around Sartaj's mother's childhood. The writing style reflected a different time and conveyed a childlike perspective. I won't spoil it, but what happens is really traumatic, while also tying into the themes of the larger plot.
The main problem I had with the book was the scale of the plot. After finishing it, I can now see that the story comes together. But during the course of reading it, it felt like there were many excessive diversions. Sometimes it would tie into the plot, and sometimes not. While I admire the richness of it, I was often left thinking to myself, “Why is this important?” As an example, the penultimate chapter involves a character who has seemingly not been previously introduced. We basically go through his entire life story before we find out that he is in fact a background character who was involved an earlier event involving one of the main characters. The fact that this chapter takes place after the climax of the main plot made it seem really out of place and unnecessary.
Overall, I liked the immersiveness of Sacred Games, but maybe it was so immersive that sometimes I lost track of the point.
This book does a good job of balancing the three different aspects of Pixar's story. One, the development of the technology that they use to produce computer graphics. Two, the creative process that goes into finding and perfecting the stories and ideas in their movies. Three, the business deals and relationships between the key players. The book would be interesting if it was about any one of these areas; combining them together made for an entertaining and informative read.
It was well-written and I enjoyed the narration of Grace, the main character. But I had a problem with the character of the doctor, Simon. It seemed like the character of Simon was meant to be a parallel to Grace, but I don't think the book spends enough time with his story to fully develop that connection. It would have been better if the time was evenly divided between the two characters, or just focussed on Grace herself. The chapters about Simon seemed tacked on; and I found that his subplot ended abruptly.
My favourite parts were the sections that consisted of letters between the different characters, especially the letters from Simon's mother. She played the motherly guilt trip in a way that was real and funny.
It was too much description of scenery and geography, and not enough stories about people. Well-written, but I'm drawn more to the human element, which was lacking here.
I wanted to read this because I'm interested in the painter Vermeer. Unfortunately, the book is happy to keep him in the background as a mysterious figure, so I lost patience with it.
Reads like a series of “did you know” factoids. Interesting but I don't feel it has enough depth.
Had a hard time with the writing style. It felt quite stilted and didn't grip me emotionally. Too many characters introduced too quickly and they didn't feel like real people.