All Things M4tt

I'd been introduced to Robert Heinlein through his military epic 'Starship Troopers.' That book was fun and delved into the psyche of a soldier. It had its preachy moments, but the commentary felt relevant, and the points made were thought evoking.

Since 'Starship Troopers', I'd been eager to read more Heinlein. This opportunity came in the form of 'Glory Road'. Which grabbed my attention with good reviews and awards behind it. It's a story that falls in both fantasy and sci-fi, and was written during Heinlein's heyday (50s/6
0s).

The protagonist is a recently discharged soldier, named E.C, who meets a beautiful woman named Star. The woman, whose beauty is regularly expressed, is looking for a hero to retrieve the Egg of a Phoenix. Star and E.C, who gets renamed Scar, are joined by an ageing assistant called Rufo. They come across different trials, which are all resolved neatly (Scar should have been named Mary Sue). After pages of analysis on space and time, through strange and drawn out character conversations, the story ends anticlimactically.

My thoughts are below, there will be spoilers (you aren't missing out).

WHAT I LIKED:

The initial set up of the story, was fun. Oscar doesn't enjoy the army and attempts to leave. This was a very different scene to the type of frenzied idolising of the army that Heinlein depicted in 'Starship Trooper.'

Before meeting Star, Oscar's character was interesting and appeared to have some depth to him.

The premise of Star needing to find the egg of phoenix promised a lot. The outline of events was clear, and what happened to the characters en- route to their goal was a page turning thought.

WHAT I DISLIKED:

After the initial promise, the characters were forgettable. Star was peculiar and unlikeable. Everything that came out of her mouth was fake and cold. Once Oscar met Star and became fascinated with her beauty he became a dull vessel for Heinlein to vomit his ideas on space and time. Rufo, the third wheel, was the comic relief that fails at his job.

The relationship between the forgettable characters was also strange. Oscar and Star loved each other so much they regularly expressed themselves through contrived dialogue and cringe declarations. Star ultimately used Oscar, which made the constant shouts of 'darling' and 'my love' even more frustrating. Over the top soppiness is one thing, but fake over the top soppiness is its own type of hell.

The narrative was slow. There were occasional pieces of excitement but pages of strange interactions and nothingness, hindered any enjoyment.

With 'Starship Troopers', humour was a strong part of Heinlein's voice. Sadly, this was not the case with 'Glory Road'. There were moments with witty descriptions and funny exchanges, but they were minimal.

The premise of needing a hero to retrieve the Phoenix's egg developed to be an odd scenario. Star came across as fiercely independent, stronger, smarter and more suited to the hero role. The question "Why does she need Oscar?" remained throughout reading and still as I write this.

WOULD I RECOMMEND?:

Well received in 1963, this book has won awards and appears on many lists of Heinlein's best work. It mixed two of my favourite genres and was written by an author who I've previously enjoyed. Maybe I was comparing it with Heinlein's other work or with the fun of my previous read Ready Player One, who knows. Ultimately, I found this book a struggle and would advise readers to find something else, even the most ardent Heinlein fans.

There it was… the end of my journey. A smile curved my lips. I must have been the first human to skip toward a giant’s house.

My smile eased as I edged closer. Everything was smaller than I’d pictured. The windows, the pathway, the door… I filled with hope. Maybe the stories of the giant’s size were grossly exaggerated?

Thoughts about his size fell away when I came face to face with the door. It looked like a five year old painted it, a five year old with no hands and the eyesight of Stevie Wonder. I pondered its origin for too long, then scolded myself. I was there to kill a giant and claim the bounty on his head, not judge whether lime green goes with Barbie pink – it doesn’t by the way.

Once over the door’s paintjob, I searched high and low for a way in. There was no keyhole, knocker or crack in a panel I could use to wedge it open. I wondered how a giant ever entered. I even got myself into character and stomped about like a giant would, or at least how every Hollywood giant would. Coming from a little town in England I didn't see too many real giants.

During my Oscar worthy stomping, I noticed, for the first time, a knocker. I froze and scratched my scalp, my go to mannerism when stumped. I tilted my head left and right, trying to add a new perspective. Without permission, my eyes blinked - chomping away like Pacman. I was now at my completely stumped mannerism.

I’ve found needles in haystacks and black cats in coal cellars, it’s my livelihood, so missing the knocker made no sense. I stepped up to the door and analysed this seeming re-incarnation of Harry Houdini. It didn’t disappoint.

Gold coated it and little diamonds accented its edges. It wore a gargoyle's face, with pointy ears and a nose that had told more lies than Pinocchio. A large ring jammed in its mouth and it begged to be knocked. Not being the type to disappoint, I reached up to the knocker and lifted the ring. As I went to slam it, the mouth opened and spat the ring at me. My first reaction was to wipe away the saliva. Then my brain caught up with events. "What the hell!" I ogled the knocker. Blinks were on hold for the moment.
It puckered its lips and spoke, "I've been trying to get that out of my mouth for weeks." He stretched and pseudo yawned, contorting his face everywhere. I didn't know what to say. I'd never seen a knocker speak. A little town in England doesn't throw up these opportunities. "What are you gawking at?" His voice was raspy, it didn't reflect his appearance, but then again, what should a knocker's voice sound like? I did my best to reply, but the words weren't there. He asked me to nod if I was a mute. I shook my head. Then he asked if I was simple, which kicked me into life.

"Sorry, I've never spoken to a knocker before. Sorry!" I bleed 'sorrys' when my nerves are tampered with.

"Well now you have! So stop staring." He was angry for some reason.

"Erm, sorry, I need to get into this house and I think I need to knock. So if you don't mind? I'm going to put this ring back in your mouth."

"That isn't going back anywhere!"

"How will I let the giant know that I'm here to vanquish him?"

"I don't care. That isn't going in." He scrunched up his face and took on a whole new level of ugly.

"I promise after I’ve knocked I'll take the ring back out again."

"I wasn't born yesterday. That's what everyone says and everyone lies!"

I did intend to take it out after but I could tell from his voice he wasn't going to believe me. So I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed his nose and waited for him to breathe. To my relief, knockers need oxygen too. He held his breath for a long time and I did get worried, thinking I'm going to have the death of a doorknocker on my conscience. After fighting to a reddish gold, he gasped for air and I shoved the ring back into his mouth. I didn't waste anytime and slammed the knocker as hard as I could. As the ringing tolled, the house crumbled. Bricks, mortar and glass tumbled to the ground. The knocker dropped the ring and gagged with laughter.

I raced away from the door, but something grabbed me. Before I could register my opposition, twenty metres separated me from the ground. I'd tasted rollercoasters in Japan, Germany and other countries with casual laws on being flung through the air. They had nothing on this.

My arms were trapped and all I could move was my head. If I'd been an owl, I could have turned my neck around and pieced my incarceration together. As it was, I could only see the smoke and rubble of the former house.

A strong stench battered my neck. When a smell is pungent enough it can be felt. A growl banged my eardrums. Suddenly, I loved my human limitations. I no longer wanted to see what was holding me. My jailor didn’t share my thinking. It rotated me at Alton Towers pace and finally, we were face-to-face. I wished its breath were its worst quality. Truth is, it was probably the best. It was a giant after all.

-->

Insert coin.

Ready Player One.

Go!!!!

I couldn't begin this review any other way could I?

Ready Player One is the debut of self professed super geek Ernest Cline (He owns a Delorean, proton packs and has a private number plate of 'ecto88'. I think that title is pretty safe). The story takes place in a dystopian future where humanity has sucked up many of its resources. They escape their awful reality through virtual reality.

The virtual space is called the Oasis and it is headed by an eccentric billionaire, James Halliday. The story kicks off with Halliday, through his will, giving away his fortune to the first person to complete his three puzzles.

The story's hero is Wade Watts. He is an average high school kid who has an intense fixation with all things 80s and Halliday. He dreams of leaving his home (caravans stacked on top of each other, insane concept but equally as brilliant) and solving Halliday's puzzles.

Below are my thoughts and i've tried to avoid Spoiler Avenue.

WHAT I LIKED:

Cline's simple style enabled for a quick read, which suited the novel. You're given the imagery through great similes and clear nouns. The dialogue between the characters flowed and although some characters played to type they accompanied the story.

Plot twists are great elements in the story. You never feel as if the narrative is becoming predictable and the twists completely blindside you. They also feel authentic and not devices begging for your attention.

The concept of the virtual world is fun. It reminded me of the Japanese Anime 'Sword Art Online.' A stumbling block for virtual world stories is the stakes. Real death can't occur in virtual world so the 'bad guys' lose an element of their fear. Cline side steps this by linking the virtual threat to the real world. He creates genuine fear and genuine problems.

The depth of 80s pop culture references was brilliant. Cline is a fan not just someone attempting to jump on the retro bandwagon. I learnt about music and games, from that era, that I didn't have a clue about. Did you know people complete the 255 levels of Pacman without losing a life? I didn't, but thanks to Mr. Cline I now do.

**** SPOILER*****

The epic Mech battle at the end. Great pace and suspense to the fighting and my jaw had to be scrapped off the floor when the scene finished.

WHAT I DISLIKED:

That there hasn't been the announcement of a number 2? The story doesn't end with the need for a number two, but i'd love to head back into Cline's world. Different characters in a different time? Just back in this world! Surely it will be called Ready Player 2.

WOULD I RECOMMENED?:

If you are into gaming, 80s pop culture, and 60s/70s Japanese anime/manga this is a must read. If you aren't it's still fun and has great pace and twists. It's definitely worth the read and is the most fun book i've read this year.

"So Jakes, will you tell us where you hid it? Or are we going to have to persuade you?" A voice emerged from the darkness.

"Persuasion? hmm... I may tell for some decent food. Don't mean to hurt your feelings, but that soup you've been serving me isn't going to win Master Chef anytime soon." Jakes scoffed at his own humour. Silence crept from the darkness. "I guess it's the thought that counts. I thank you for keeping me fed during such a time." Sarcasm wagged his tongue.

"Shut up!" A new voice reared from the dark. It was hoarse and needed a drink. "If you don't tell us, maybe your girlfriend will, or how about your mother?"

Jakes' bravado left him momentarily. It returned wearing new shoes and an expensive hat. "Persuasion 101, use something personal against your target. Nice touch guys, but mother abandoned me as a child and I only have eyes for The Queen."

"It doesn't need to be this way Jakes." The calmer voice slithered from the dark. "Tell us where you hid it and this ends now."

"Let's save some time shall we? I'm not going to tell you anything. There is nothing you can threaten me with and if I die, so does the whereabouts of the little black box." Jakes face read 'your move' like a chess grandmaster who has just checked their opponent.

Silence tried to sweep through the room but a drop of something dripped somewhere.

Jakes sat beneath a capricious light, that was not concerned with the idea of being reliable. When it chose to do its job, it doused Jakes with a beam that lit a small area around him. Darkness veiled everything that the light didn't touch.

Jakes hands interlocked behind his back. A tatty rope tied them to a creaky chair. Despite being stripped naked, he showed more calm than a monk during prayer. A damp stench hung in the air but Jakes had acclimatised to it.

From the shadows, a diminutive figure moved forward. It stopped short of coming into the light. Jakes guessed it was the calmer voice.

"I was beginning to think I was surrounded by a cult of voyeurs. Why don't you come closer, let's see which idiots decided to capture a Scarlet Agent." Jakes adjusted himself to a more upright position.

"So confident aren't we Jakes?" The voice was new but familiar. "It wasn't always like that was it?"

The figure hobbled further forward, tasting the flickering light. She dropped her hood. Jakes barked in anger. He convulsed and agonised, testing the quality of his constraints. His feet thrashed in a futile attempt to frighten her. Left and right, his chair shimmied. "You!" His teeth tussled with each other to a stalemate.

"Didn't think you'd see me again. What were your last words to me?" The woman's talons scratched her chin. "I remember. 'Death suits you.' "

Hate seared across Jakes' face. The veins in his throat bulged. The woman vultured around him waiting to strike. "Let's play a game Jakes?" She whipped a phone from her cloak and shoved it in his face. "Take a look at this screen." Without looking, Jakes spat at the phone but missed. "Manners Jakes. What are they teaching you at Scarlet these days?" Jakes earlier confidence had found a new host.

Two women appeared on the screen. They were in a well lit basement. Like Jakes, they were tied to the chairs they sat on, but with more clothing. Gags and blindfolds interfered with their faces, but Jakes knew them. His eyes gave that away.

"How did we find them? Is that what you want to know? Snakes are everywhere Jakes."

"You piece of..."

"Wait, wait. You haven't even heard the game." Her lips curved upwards, enjoyment pulsed through her movements. "You have to say a number between 1 and 10. If these easy to find women say the same number as you. They die. If they say the wrong number then I'll let them live." Jakes' face carried his reply. "Oh not a fan of that game?" She sighed, "It's one of my favourites." Jakes throttled her ocularly. "Don't look at me like that. Tell us where the box is and no one dies."

"Release them and I will tell you everything."

"Demands? In your position." Sarcasm erupted in the form of chuckle. "Box then the women."

"Release one of them. I will tell you where it is and then you must release the other."

She stroked the wrinkles out of her forehead. "How about we change it. I kill one of them. Then you tell me where it is. If it's where you say then the other one lives. Yes? That's much better."

"Please. No. Please!" Jakes struggled on the chair.

She spoke into the phone. "Kill his mother first. Death suits her."

For book 7 of the year, I had a read something written by a female author. I chose White Teeth by Zadie Smith. It's a story focusing on two families in South London. The main events take place across
20 years (with a few time jumps to World War 2) and involve several generations of the families. Themes such as religion, identity and family are explored without any author prejudice. Smith uses her characters to highlight the struggles of cultural integration. This is achieved powerfully through humour and honesty. Smith dissects and analyses ideas without propagation. The book showcases inner city struggles during a tense period of time in London where social changes were huge.

White Teeth was Zadie Smith's debut and it was met with critical acclaim. Here's my quick breakdown.

WHAT I LIKED:

Zadie Smith's writing style flowed. I loved how nonchalantly she described London and I identified with a lot of her depictions of the old city. She injected a lot of humour into the story, making the darker moments more striking. Her characters were authentic. I knew them, and felt I could have had conversations with them. I shouted at Samad Iqbal's character constantly. His hypocrisy was infuriating at times, but I guess my emotions represent a good character.

Her depiction of the difficulties of cultural integration and identify was powerful. I felt sympathy for some characters and utter distain for others. My own views on identity came into play. Any book that gets its reader feeling and thinking, as Smith does in White Teeth, is a great piece of literature.

The fear of cultural assimilation from the Iqbal's and the ignorance toward it from the Jones' was explored well. Just seeing the two families have such different core views but be so close depicted modern London.

WHAT I DISLIKED:

Length, length and length. The story is 560 pages and I did feel there was a lot of surplus narrative.

WOULD I RECOMMEND?:

Smith's writing is easy to read. Her words roll across the page, which helped with a book that was too long. The characters are interesting. The themes that underpin the story are woven with skill. This book has grown on me massively. Initially, probably due to length, I would have recommended Smith but not this book. However, with time, I wholly recommend this book. I've even got a few colleagues at work into it.

Book Review: Glory Road by Robert Heinlein

The Giant

Book Review: Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

Death Suits You

Book Review: White Teeth by Zadie Smith

Follow me

We need to talk about Matthew!

Things I did and things I think I did

Best Of The Best

Hordes of Hell (Love you really)

Books that have tickled my fancy

Owl Post

Pages