Books provide one with such a
colourful counteroffence against life's drudgery or its disconcerting machinations.
To this end, I have embarked on reading as many books as I could this year.
Part Two here: Part Three over here.
Part One:
1. Helliconia Spring: The first book in this monumental trilogy, for
it is indeed a monumental pursuit by Brian Aldiss to capture the workings of
the planet Helliconia, part of a binary planet system, the rise and fall of its
civilisation over more than a thousand years, as the seasons on the planet last
for centuries.
The planet
of Helliconia is in a binary star system where it orbits one sun Batalix every
four hundred days and another much larger, older sun Freyr every 2,500
years or so. Many of the inhabitants are unaware of this fact, as such a
seasonal change that happens over a millennium is not easily documented, and if
it is, such knowledge is either lost or becomes part of a myth.
It is not
difficult to see where one may have difficulty with getting through this book,
since the central character is the planet and as such the characters seem
trivial and unengaging, for their time on the stage in the epic nature of the
world they live in is so limited. One may feel a bit distanced by this.
Nevertheless,
it is a glorious geographical, biological, anthropological exploration of this
quite imaginative earth-like setting.
2. Wyrd Sisters: I've been basing my sojourn through Terry Pratchett’s
Discworld on this excellent map of suggested reading order. I'm currently
following the “witches” and “death” storylines.
Wyrd Sisters,
if I'm not wrong, gives us the first proper introduction of Nanny Ogg, an alpha
witch who serves as a counterpoint to the more pragmatic Granny Weatherwax,
especially with her ribald humour. I didn't find Magrat, the third of the
"sisters", as engaging as the other and missed the vivacious Eskarina
of "Equal Rites" who I felt belonged here more than Magrat.
The humour
doesn't feel as fluid or effortless as in some of the other Discworld novels,
and if you're well accustomed to references to Macbeth and Hamlet, you
will see the jokes coming. Nevertheless, it's enjoyable.
3. Ubik: This is
one of the most compelling books I've read this year. Phillip K Dick is
the master of pulling the reality from under you just when you think
you've figured out where you are. The book presents you with a juxtaposition of
two worlds and challenges you to figure out which one, if any, is real, not
just by depicting the characters’ frustrations but also through cleverly placed
clues and advertisements of a fictitious product called Ubik. I am fascinated
when the tension in a book stretches like a rubber band through simple dialogue,
without relying on needless complicated effects. I do hope they do not make a
movie out of this.
4. The
Picture of Dorian Gray: Oscar Wilde's sole novel is a brilliant exploration
and depiction of aestheticism and its consequence on one's own identity. Apart
from allusions and references to Tannhäuser and Faust, the book also presents
the superficial natural of the society through Lord Henry and others, and their
influence on Dorian. As Lord Henry points out, "there is something
terribly enthralling in the exercise of influence", thus teaching a lesson
in individualism that is as relevant now as it was then.
The
homoerotic theme underlying the book was definitely a reflection of Wilde's own
life, though how much of it was an attempt to philosophically justify his
lifestyle, rather than it being part of his own wider aestheticism and refined
culture, is a little unclear since Wilde was constrained by the homophobic
society he lived in. Perhaps, it was a bit of both.
5.
Slaughterhouse-Five: Kurt Vonnegut's quasi-autobiographical/science fiction
story of Billy Pilgrim who goes back and forth in time and back and forth
through the bombing of Dresden, and to and from the Tralfmadorians, is a satire
on issues ranging from war and freewill to foresight, and perhaps even a satire
of itself as it begins with the sentence "All this happened, more or
less". Despite its fractured, non-linear narrative, one may find the prose
a little repetitive and monotonous at times. Is there too much of "So, it
goes"? It felt so half way through the book, though at the end, it seemed
right. Even if you don't like it, you will probably appreciate what Vonnegut's
doing here. I do both like and appreciate his work.
6. Brothers
Karamazov:
“There is one other book, that can teach you everything you need to know about
life...it's the Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, but that's not
enough," said Vonnegut of Dostoevsky's last novel in Slaughterhouse-Five.
I think perhaps, it can be said, if it doesn't teach you, it definitely talks
about almost everything you need to know. But it is Dostoevsky talking, and he
is very passionate here, so it's worth listening to him, and he is hardly a bad
teacher.
Ivan
Karamazov is perhaps Dostoevsky's finest creation. Despite Dostovesky leaning
towards one way more than (in the end) the other in the conflict between faith
and doubt, he nevertheless scrutinises both rigorously. The nature of the
Russian society as it battles or tries to reconcile itself with the influence
from the West is also a fascinating discussion in the book. Maybe less
Dickensian than his other books, the influence of Dickens on the prose is
definitely present in the manners and idiosyncrasies of the characters, and it
may be more fascinating to read it in Russian, despite the no doubt
stellar translations of Pevear and Volokhonsky. More about the translations here.
7. Trigger
Warning: Short Stories and Disturbances: This third collection of Neil
Gaiman's short stories is quite diverse, ranging from homages to Gene Wolfe,
Holmes, Dr Who, Ray Bradbury, to his usual terrifying stories (Click-clack the
Rattlebag, my gosh!), and in my opinion, a successful online experiment that is
"A Calendar of Tales". In the introduction, Gaiman tells us a little
about the origins of each of the 24, and this itself is interesting!
For those of
you who enjoyed American Gods, there's Black Dog where Shadow finds himself in
a pub, and in rather scary, fun little adventure, perhaps on his way to
American Gods 2. I loved Sleeper and the Spindle, as well the
illustrations by Chris Riddell. Though I never took to Dr Who, I found “Nothing
O'clock” interesting. The collection also includes a story which would have an
accompanying piece for a fashion article on David Bowie.
A thoroughly
enjoyable collection.
8. The Three
Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch: This is one of Phillip K Dick's first works to explore
religious themes apart from the usual ones he delves into like reality/unreality
and philosophy. It's difficult to talk about much of the plot without giving
away elements that will spoil the story, save to say that it has to do with
dreams, drugs, escapism and a more realistic take on what was offered to us by
Nolan's Inception. But the similarities end there as Dick asks more profound
questions such as "When does someone stop being human?". It is a
little more incoherent than some of his other books, and is perhaps less
enjoyable than “Ubik” or “Do Andriods Dream of Electric Sheep?”
9. Lolita: I finally
got around to reading Nabokov's classic. I didn't think it was brilliant but I
did think it was very good. I guess the conflict between morality and
aesthetics is one for us and not for Humbert Humbert. However, this makes him less
interesting and somewhat predictable despite him being an unreliable narrator.
I thought there could have been more exploration on society's view on morality
versus that of an individual. It's obvious Nabokov loved words as showcased by
his clever word play, but I'm not sure I agree with the opinion of the majority
who say that it gave the book a beauty that was not deserving of the shocking
content it within. I didn't find H.H charming enough or interesting enough for
that. Instead for me, it gave an insight into H.H, not to sympathize with him
as such but to understand that he was flawed and not insane (that is not to say
he didn't have mental issues) and agree with some of the issues he raises about
the inadequacy of the simplicity of some psychiatry.
10. Good
Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch: I loved
this book. Quite often pop culture references in satires make you want to
read/watch the original rather than read/watch the satire. That is to say, the
satire just becomes a weak apery. In Good Omens, every such reference fits
in really well with the narrative or its mood and doesn't feel contrived. Neil
Gaiman's dark depiction of the Four Horsemen not only balances the other funny
parts, but in a curious way adds to it, as we ask ourselves the very
interesting question, "How much free will do demons, the Anti-Christ
have?"
Oh, and I'm
Sure Agnes Nutter appreciated the Bohemian Rhapsody.
Very witty,
very British, very brilliant.
11. A
Clockwork Orange: I think the language in this book (Nadsat) adds a lot
to the whole setting. Yes, it serves as a distraction from the shocking scenes,
but is also mesmeric and vague and alludes to the political setting around it.
It felt a little odd in the film, but works excellently in the book, since Alex
is a teenager and the Russian-Cockney-Malay hybrid fits the profile of the
teenagers whose perorations have echoes of Shakespeare.
The final
chapter brings the story around to a neat character conclusion, unlike the
movie which I felt was driving the whole point of free will a little too
ardently. It is a dark and compelling read.

12. Ringworld: There is no denying that Larry Niven's multiple award
winning Ringworld is a major work in the field of science fiction literature.
It is an amazing concept, that of a gargantuan ring-shaped structure encircling
a star, particularly since it’s backed up by much scientific research by the
author. An artist would find it quite fascinating depicting the perspective in
such a world, and perhaps even puzzling. Please Google Ringworld art only AFTER
you've read the book. The sole disappointment was the characterisation, which I
found perfunctory, especially the female characters. Furthermore the idea of
"breeding for luck" was very unconvincing to say the least. The
world itself is very engaging, but the book on the whole with its rather
forgettable characters makes me not too keen to go back to its sequels.
13.
In Cold Blood: It's quite amazing how Capote manages to keep the narrative
tension throughout the book, even when the nature of the crime and the destiny
of the characters is known to us in advance. Much of this is established
through a complete character study of the two antagonists as well as the
Clutter family, thus giving us an insight into the effect of the killings both
on the murderers and the different people in the Holcomb community. Capote was
apparently given unprecedented access to the case and the people involved. The
veracity of the book, will of course, come into question, since no one can
really confirm the actual internal monologues of the characters and some Kansas
residents have questioned the re-created dialogue saying that they were
misquoted or mischaracterised. In what he coined a
"non-fiction" novel, Capote's writing style feels impartial for the
most part and factual while not sounding like a simple report.
14. Iron Council: I felt this was best of the novels set in the Bas-Lag
world created by China Mieville. I am in the minority though. It's generated
mixed reviews due to its overtly political (leftish) tones, and the general
radical nature of the characters. What is missed is that it is a love story,
and Mieville's commentary on the nature of love is one of the finest I've read.
It's a western, it's dark, cynical in its prose as well as the plot, and nearly
a third of the book is a flashback. The prose is less baroque than Mieville's
usual style and more along the lines of Cormac McCarthy's powerful, tight cadence.
It's not for everyone, even for people who loved “Perdido Street Station” and “The
Scar”. It's less fantastical, adventurous, grandiose and thrilling than either
but is perhaps more complete than both, for it is very insistent, insistent in
the relentless pursuit of the Iron Council towards their goal, insistent on the
militia's pursuit of the Iron Council, insistent in its bleak outlook, and
is so good, that the ending that is brought about by Mieville, despite being
bizarre and peculiar, is nevertheless germane as anything else wouldn't have
felt true after one's latter anamnesis of the book.
15 The Invisible Man: The original invisible man, the one that spawned many
many stories and movies in this genre, has actually, as I recently learnt, as
its substructure Plato's "Ring of Gyges". There's a classic conflict
between the society and the individual, between collective good and scientific
progress as a result of self-alienation. The struggles of the Invisible Man are
very vivid, as H.G Wells portrays the difficulty of being invisible and
inconspicuous at the same time as he shows us that the two need not necessarily
go together. He also shows how a simplified scientific theory has the
ingredients to make a harrowing story and this is interesting because a lot of
books and movies are overburdened by complicated science that tries to justify
its presence. Here, the science is just the backdrop, like an opening move in a
game that it then leaves for more important players.