"Death Cloud" by Andrew Lane is a surprisingly good . . . wait for it . . . mystery.
Young Sherlock Holmes is taken out of his dreaded boarding school and forced to live with his even more dreaded aunt and uncle out in the countryside. What awaits him, he believes, is endless hours of boredom and loneliness, punctuated only with conversation from relatives he hardly knows. When he arrives, he finds what he expected, but with another layer: A mysterious black cloud has been dropping down on citizens from Farnham, and leaving them with great red swollen welts. Is this the beginning of another Bubonic Plague, or is it of a much greater design? Stretching his wit and his mind, Sherlock delves into the heart of the mystery, determined to find the source of the black cloud before it claims any more prey.
I am not qualified to talk about how Young Sherlock Holmes matches up against his older counterpart, but I have to say that I am surprised to how Andrew Lane takes the smallest detail and turns it into a major part of the plot. I mean, I could see the dead badger stunt coming a mile off, but I did enjoy the attention payed to detail. It really makes the story.
Actually, the attention to detail would have to make the story, because the plot was slightly ridiculous. The first half of the plot was intriguing: Why are these people getting killed by a black cloud? What on earth is the black cloud? Why did those people set that warehouse in fire? And then, of course, there is the whimsy of imaging Sherlock and Matty meander the English countryside riding bicycles and the whatnot. But then the plot takes a turn for the worse after Sherlock gets kidnapped for the first time. That's right, the first time. From there, it all descends into madness.
For the characters, well, Sherlock is the only one you know. It's third person narration, so you aren't really inside his head, but still, by the end of a, say, 250 page book you should think you would know a character reasonably well, right? Well enough to predict their actions. That's not the case for this book, in my opinion. I feel like I hardly know Sherlock by the end of his adventures, his past is so shrouded in mystery, even though this book was supposed to clear up some of the mystery left by the first author of the adult Holmes series. Even though Sherlock is a static character in this book--he overcomes no great personal revelations and has no life-changing epiphanies--you still don't feel like you understand what motivates him by the end of the book. He wants to figure out a mystery? Great! Now, please tell me why he would risk his life to do so, and do tell me 'generic kindness' 'cause we all know that altruism is not that strong of a motivator.
You can't really predict the actions of any of the characters. With a good book you'll be able to get into the characters brains' and say, "Well, this person cares for this person, so they would do this. But they don't care for that person that much, so they probably won't do that," or "This person values this, that, and the other, so, according to their values they are probably going to save this person." You get few reasons with this book--Crowe says some reasons why he does stuff, and sometimes Matty does, but Sherlock is all like "This is logical. This is what I'm going to do." Well, it may be logical, but it's not smart.
It may be my natural aversion to mysteries, but this book only comes up on my list as half decent. If the train of events made more sense in my mind, I would like it more. Simple as that. It is a good book, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't rank up there with my favorites, no way, no how. Maybe I'll read the sequel if and/or when it comes out, maybe I won't.
What I would like to say to young Mr. Holmes, though, when he decides that maybe carrying around this possibly poisonous yellow powder wasn't such a good after all is "no duh, Sherlock," because, in reality, maybe this whole venture wasn't such a good idea after all.
Showing posts with label Small Towns. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Small Towns. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Out of My Mind
"Out of My Mind" by Sharon Draper is a story of a brilliant girl who has no way to communicate with the rest of the world.
Melody, aged ten but nearly eleven, has millions of things she'd like to say, millions of ideas she wants to share, millions of conversations she wants to has, and millions of miles she wants to run, but only one thing stopping her. She has cerebral palsy. Confined to her pink wheelchair, Melody has to observe the world pass her by, learning her ABC's day after day, talking to the same kids year after year, doing the same things over and over again. She can't even tell people what she wants, because her vocabulary is limited to the few words she can point to on her "communication board." Wonderful opportunities are in store for Melody, though, if only the rest of the world can be kind enough to let her take them.
This is a wonderful story. Sharon Draper is a wonderful author, adept at bringing out the unseen and generally ignored sides of life, and she does nothing less with this novel. She paints a picture that's believable, understandable, and relateable, even if the reader has no disability whatsoever.
The main character, Melody, is a very sensible and sweet girl. You almost forget from what vantage point she is speaking from sometimes. Her thoughts are completely relateable, even if we function in two completely different realms of being. I worry about what the kids at school think of me: she does too, save in a greater capacity. She worries about being her best for her team and proving everyone wrong about her; I do to, in some cases.
Melody is surrounded by a cast of characters, as every protagonist is. These characters aren't as widely varied as the casts in my normal books--there is only one outrageously flamboyant personality in the whole thing-- but they are believable, and I think that might be the point of the whole endeavor. Their personalities are well developed, though, and rounded, so you know what's coming at you almost before it does, and if you don't understand an action then you can easily figure out based on what you know of real life and in-book situations.
I also like Melody's sense of humor. There's a mean girl, Claire (Why is it always a Claire?), who bullies Melody, but Melody comes back with some pretty snappy retorts. Melody makes me smile often during the book, be it with her comebacks or her common-sense approach to her situation.
The storyline is a good one, too. The best ending to a story is "surprising but inevitable," right? There are two very major plot twists near the end of the book. The first is something that effects Melody more than anyone else, and it's something that you'll shake your head at and say "I should've seen that one coming." The second is something that you figured out was going to happen earlier on in the book, if you payed close enough attention to all of the details in the text, but there's an added level to it. That one effects the whole family, and it was hinted at for ages prior to it.
I do have one complaint about the book, though. There are a whole ton of exclamation points. I really don't like exclamation points. I couldn't tell you why, but it's just a personal irk of mine. There are, like, four exclamation points per chapter, and they make me jump every time I read them. Other than that, there's nothing pressingly awful that comes to mind.
It's a wonderful book that can make you feel someone else's emotions, no matter what their circumstances, and this is a book that can do that. It did it for me.
Melody, aged ten but nearly eleven, has millions of things she'd like to say, millions of ideas she wants to share, millions of conversations she wants to has, and millions of miles she wants to run, but only one thing stopping her. She has cerebral palsy. Confined to her pink wheelchair, Melody has to observe the world pass her by, learning her ABC's day after day, talking to the same kids year after year, doing the same things over and over again. She can't even tell people what she wants, because her vocabulary is limited to the few words she can point to on her "communication board." Wonderful opportunities are in store for Melody, though, if only the rest of the world can be kind enough to let her take them.
This is a wonderful story. Sharon Draper is a wonderful author, adept at bringing out the unseen and generally ignored sides of life, and she does nothing less with this novel. She paints a picture that's believable, understandable, and relateable, even if the reader has no disability whatsoever.
The main character, Melody, is a very sensible and sweet girl. You almost forget from what vantage point she is speaking from sometimes. Her thoughts are completely relateable, even if we function in two completely different realms of being. I worry about what the kids at school think of me: she does too, save in a greater capacity. She worries about being her best for her team and proving everyone wrong about her; I do to, in some cases.
Melody is surrounded by a cast of characters, as every protagonist is. These characters aren't as widely varied as the casts in my normal books--there is only one outrageously flamboyant personality in the whole thing-- but they are believable, and I think that might be the point of the whole endeavor. Their personalities are well developed, though, and rounded, so you know what's coming at you almost before it does, and if you don't understand an action then you can easily figure out based on what you know of real life and in-book situations.
I also like Melody's sense of humor. There's a mean girl, Claire (Why is it always a Claire?), who bullies Melody, but Melody comes back with some pretty snappy retorts. Melody makes me smile often during the book, be it with her comebacks or her common-sense approach to her situation.
The storyline is a good one, too. The best ending to a story is "surprising but inevitable," right? There are two very major plot twists near the end of the book. The first is something that effects Melody more than anyone else, and it's something that you'll shake your head at and say "I should've seen that one coming." The second is something that you figured out was going to happen earlier on in the book, if you payed close enough attention to all of the details in the text, but there's an added level to it. That one effects the whole family, and it was hinted at for ages prior to it.
I do have one complaint about the book, though. There are a whole ton of exclamation points. I really don't like exclamation points. I couldn't tell you why, but it's just a personal irk of mine. There are, like, four exclamation points per chapter, and they make me jump every time I read them. Other than that, there's nothing pressingly awful that comes to mind.
It's a wonderful book that can make you feel someone else's emotions, no matter what their circumstances, and this is a book that can do that. It did it for me.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Chaos Walking Trilogy
The "Chaos Walking" Trilogy by Patrick Ness is a commentary on our society, even though it's set lightyears away.
Todd is the only boy in a town of only men. All of the women died of a native plague on this new planet just after Todd was born, they died of the plague that can broadcasts all men's thoughts to everyone else. Their collective thoughts create the Noise, and through the Noise, nearly all secrets are revealed. But when Todd finds a pocket of silence in the swamps, he has to rethink what he knows of his town and himself. Because when you've been lied to all your life, there's only one way to find out the truth, and fighting back against the convention could have bigger implications than you could ever guess. Especially when your tap is all that's needed to set the dominoes cascading down.
So, a bunch of settlers come to a planet, and find that they can all hear each other's thoughts. They also find an alien species who have hardly any way to communicate with them. What's the next obvious thing that these settlers do. Oh, I don't know, maybe they ought to start a war?
Hmm. Well, you know, we're starving, we're hungry, and we're 60-something years away from any help. We're going to have to live with this alien species for the rest of our lives, and our great-great-great grandchildren are going to have to live with them too. So, heck, why not go for it and start blowing their brains out? Yeah . . . What's the worst that can happen? I love the human thought process. Especially when it's in books, and I don't have to live with the repercussions.
These books, well, about half of the time, these books are written by an illiterate boy. Todd, pretty obvious, right? It isn't as bad as "Blood Red Road," Moira Young, but he spells thing phonetically. I don't have a problem with that, I actually sort of like it, because I'm awful with the spelling part of things, but it might not be your cup'o'tea.
The characters are very strong. Very strong. Each person is unique, painfully so, and they all have their own motives. Some of them are very easy to predict, such as Todd and Viola, but others are more of a wild card. Everyone does things that are morally disgusting, such as committing murder, initiating planet-wide-war, and infecting innocent people with fatal diseases, but it's their reaction after the deed and the motives that drove them that you have to judge them on. Otherwise, you'd wind up hating everyone in the books.
The Land, and you won't know what I'm talking about until you've read the third book, confuses me. It's sort of a peaceful part of the book, except for the fact that the Return is basically baying for blood, but I can't pick out individuals. I couldn't even tell you if the Return is a male or a female. The Return seems male for the most time, but other times it seems female . . . It adds to the overall effect of the story, but it can also subtract from it a bit.
Another thing that subtracts from the story is the obvious bloodlust. It sort of repulses me how many people in this book want war. The Return can't stop begging to stick a knife in the Knife, Todd blatantly harms the captured ones in New Prentisstown, Mistress Coyle goes around blowing up things left and right and smiling while she does it, and the Mayor decides to start a war, just so he can rule. What is with these people? Most of the semi-prominent characters adore violence, and the main characters take part in it just to please the semi-prominent characters. It is repulsive, but enthralling. And it is completely rateable to today. How many bullies hurt others, just because it gives them power? It's a theme you see repeated here, but on a much grander scale.
The New World in itself is intriguing. The fact that everyone can hear the thoughts of everyone else (except for . . . but I won't ruin it), that animals can talk, and that you can hear the thoughts of the animals is really quite an interesting concept. It is said in the book that it's all about information: How much you have, how you can control it, and, of course, how often you get it. Patrick Ness said, in his biography in the back of the first book, that he got the idea from today's society, and how we're always hooked up to information. Computers, television, even radios and newspapers. You name it, we're getting information from it. Again, another theme that applies to today, and today's life.
There are three books, this being a trilogy. The first is "The Knife of Never Letting Go," followed by "The Ask and the Answer," and "Monsters of Men" (because war makes monsters of men . . . ). You might just want to check out all three at once, because both "The Knife" and "The Ask" end on major cliff hangers. Like, major. Major, as in in-your-face, you are going to die if you don't read the next book as soon as humanly possible major. I mean, "Monsters of Men," has a major cliff-hanger too, but you can't do really anything about that one.
And even though all Viola and Todd want is to be safe, they forget that when you spit into the wind you get a convoy of 40 spaceships, the arrows of an alien species, and the hostilities of your own people coming right back at you. I hope you don't.
Todd is the only boy in a town of only men. All of the women died of a native plague on this new planet just after Todd was born, they died of the plague that can broadcasts all men's thoughts to everyone else. Their collective thoughts create the Noise, and through the Noise, nearly all secrets are revealed. But when Todd finds a pocket of silence in the swamps, he has to rethink what he knows of his town and himself. Because when you've been lied to all your life, there's only one way to find out the truth, and fighting back against the convention could have bigger implications than you could ever guess. Especially when your tap is all that's needed to set the dominoes cascading down.
So, a bunch of settlers come to a planet, and find that they can all hear each other's thoughts. They also find an alien species who have hardly any way to communicate with them. What's the next obvious thing that these settlers do. Oh, I don't know, maybe they ought to start a war?
Hmm. Well, you know, we're starving, we're hungry, and we're 60-something years away from any help. We're going to have to live with this alien species for the rest of our lives, and our great-great-great grandchildren are going to have to live with them too. So, heck, why not go for it and start blowing their brains out? Yeah . . . What's the worst that can happen? I love the human thought process. Especially when it's in books, and I don't have to live with the repercussions.
These books, well, about half of the time, these books are written by an illiterate boy. Todd, pretty obvious, right? It isn't as bad as "Blood Red Road," Moira Young, but he spells thing phonetically. I don't have a problem with that, I actually sort of like it, because I'm awful with the spelling part of things, but it might not be your cup'o'tea.
The characters are very strong. Very strong. Each person is unique, painfully so, and they all have their own motives. Some of them are very easy to predict, such as Todd and Viola, but others are more of a wild card. Everyone does things that are morally disgusting, such as committing murder, initiating planet-wide-war, and infecting innocent people with fatal diseases, but it's their reaction after the deed and the motives that drove them that you have to judge them on. Otherwise, you'd wind up hating everyone in the books.
The Land, and you won't know what I'm talking about until you've read the third book, confuses me. It's sort of a peaceful part of the book, except for the fact that the Return is basically baying for blood, but I can't pick out individuals. I couldn't even tell you if the Return is a male or a female. The Return seems male for the most time, but other times it seems female . . . It adds to the overall effect of the story, but it can also subtract from it a bit.
Another thing that subtracts from the story is the obvious bloodlust. It sort of repulses me how many people in this book want war. The Return can't stop begging to stick a knife in the Knife, Todd blatantly harms the captured ones in New Prentisstown, Mistress Coyle goes around blowing up things left and right and smiling while she does it, and the Mayor decides to start a war, just so he can rule. What is with these people? Most of the semi-prominent characters adore violence, and the main characters take part in it just to please the semi-prominent characters. It is repulsive, but enthralling. And it is completely rateable to today. How many bullies hurt others, just because it gives them power? It's a theme you see repeated here, but on a much grander scale.
The New World in itself is intriguing. The fact that everyone can hear the thoughts of everyone else (except for . . . but I won't ruin it), that animals can talk, and that you can hear the thoughts of the animals is really quite an interesting concept. It is said in the book that it's all about information: How much you have, how you can control it, and, of course, how often you get it. Patrick Ness said, in his biography in the back of the first book, that he got the idea from today's society, and how we're always hooked up to information. Computers, television, even radios and newspapers. You name it, we're getting information from it. Again, another theme that applies to today, and today's life.
There are three books, this being a trilogy. The first is "The Knife of Never Letting Go," followed by "The Ask and the Answer," and "Monsters of Men" (because war makes monsters of men . . . ). You might just want to check out all three at once, because both "The Knife" and "The Ask" end on major cliff hangers. Like, major. Major, as in in-your-face, you are going to die if you don't read the next book as soon as humanly possible major. I mean, "Monsters of Men," has a major cliff-hanger too, but you can't do really anything about that one.
And even though all Viola and Todd want is to be safe, they forget that when you spit into the wind you get a convoy of 40 spaceships, the arrows of an alien species, and the hostilities of your own people coming right back at you. I hope you don't.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Wild Things
Wild Things, by Clay Carmichael, is a story about the human heart and finding a home and a family after a life of hardship and uncertainty.
Zoe Royster's mother has just died, and she's been sent to live with her half-uncle, a recluse who hasn't integrated with society after his wife's death. One of the US's top metal-working artists, he spends all day in his workshop, and Zoe fears that he will want to get rid of her too, just like all of her mother's boyfriends have over the years.
But with the help of a kindly old husband and wife, a preacher whose view of what he preaches is not as strong as one would think it would be, two arists from New York City, a lady who has blood connections to Zoe, and a cat who hasn't shown the tip of his nose since the tragedy happened so long ago, can Zoe save a wild boy and his snow-white deer from the lying mayor and his sons? And what will come of the family that Zoe wants so deperately she won't even admit it to herself?
This book was good. I picked it up thinking it was something by Patrick Carmen, because I was just looking at the first three letters of the author's last name, so I got a bit of a suprise when I got it home and looked in the front flap and read the description. It is a moving story, though, about courage and what it takes to stand up for what you love. I might've cried.
Zoe is a girl who is used to taking care of herself, and she tries to tell herself that she will always be able to take care of herself. Deprived of a childhood, her two loves are books and animals. The communtiy of people she meets has about the same affect on her as she has on them. And I believe that would constitute a lot of affecting going around on both sides. But there are still somethings haunting her about her past, two people in particular--her unknown father and her mother's last boyfriend.
Uncle Henry is harder to figure out. We don't know anything about his childhood, why he even wants Zoe with him, and until about the end of the book we don't even know how he knew she existed. I pretty much liked him after the scene at the grocery store, though it took a while for Zoe to warm up to him.
The wild boy she meets in the woods and his snow-white deer, and I won't say more, are my favorite characters. Personally, I would love to run wild and lawless through the woods for 17 years. They have had their own share of troubles, ones we learn as we observe the world through the cat's eyes, but we know very little else about them.
One thing I didn't like about this book was that it ended to soon. Or, that it ended at all. I want to know more of the story, more of what happened. I suppose you could sort of say it was a cliff-hanger, but it isn't at a point of dramatic tensions. It's one of those instances, where everything has just fallen into place, but then someone picks up a piece and hides it, leaving the story unfinished. the book can be very disappointing like that, but very much like real life in the same way: bittersweet and unfufilling.
Zoe Royster's mother has just died, and she's been sent to live with her half-uncle, a recluse who hasn't integrated with society after his wife's death. One of the US's top metal-working artists, he spends all day in his workshop, and Zoe fears that he will want to get rid of her too, just like all of her mother's boyfriends have over the years.
But with the help of a kindly old husband and wife, a preacher whose view of what he preaches is not as strong as one would think it would be, two arists from New York City, a lady who has blood connections to Zoe, and a cat who hasn't shown the tip of his nose since the tragedy happened so long ago, can Zoe save a wild boy and his snow-white deer from the lying mayor and his sons? And what will come of the family that Zoe wants so deperately she won't even admit it to herself?
This book was good. I picked it up thinking it was something by Patrick Carmen, because I was just looking at the first three letters of the author's last name, so I got a bit of a suprise when I got it home and looked in the front flap and read the description. It is a moving story, though, about courage and what it takes to stand up for what you love. I might've cried.
Zoe is a girl who is used to taking care of herself, and she tries to tell herself that she will always be able to take care of herself. Deprived of a childhood, her two loves are books and animals. The communtiy of people she meets has about the same affect on her as she has on them. And I believe that would constitute a lot of affecting going around on both sides. But there are still somethings haunting her about her past, two people in particular--her unknown father and her mother's last boyfriend.
Uncle Henry is harder to figure out. We don't know anything about his childhood, why he even wants Zoe with him, and until about the end of the book we don't even know how he knew she existed. I pretty much liked him after the scene at the grocery store, though it took a while for Zoe to warm up to him.
The wild boy she meets in the woods and his snow-white deer, and I won't say more, are my favorite characters. Personally, I would love to run wild and lawless through the woods for 17 years. They have had their own share of troubles, ones we learn as we observe the world through the cat's eyes, but we know very little else about them.
One thing I didn't like about this book was that it ended to soon. Or, that it ended at all. I want to know more of the story, more of what happened. I suppose you could sort of say it was a cliff-hanger, but it isn't at a point of dramatic tensions. It's one of those instances, where everything has just fallen into place, but then someone picks up a piece and hides it, leaving the story unfinished. the book can be very disappointing like that, but very much like real life in the same way: bittersweet and unfufilling.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Candor
Candor, by Pam Bachorz, is another great book with another great message: When adults rule the world, they do it badly. :)
Oscar Campbell is the perfect student, son, friend, boyfriend, and criminal. He has a 115% average in biology, he makes his father toast every morning, he hangs with all the nerds so they won't feel left out, he eats carrot sticks in the movie theater with his girlfriend, the second-best student in the school . . . and he's busy undermining his father's Utopian society. He'll sneak you out from the town of Candor for a "small" fee. Candor, the town his father created after Oscar's brother died. Candor, the town where everyone is brainwashed to do as they're told. Candor, where every thing's perfect. At least, it's supposed to be. Oscar's the one anomaly, the one person in the town of Candor who knows how to block out the brainwashing messages. But will he be able to help bad girl, new girl, Nia, overcome the evil charm of Candor, or will he choose to help himself instead?
Yet another book that I love. What is there not to love about a book that suggests that kids do it better than grown-ups? But it's fun watching how Oscar knows more than everyone else does. It's fun watching him try to impress Nia, even while fighting his good-boy urges. It's sad looking back into Oscar's memories, and it's heartbreaking how everything all falls into place . . .
I won't give away the ending, but I'll let you know I have a love-hate relationship with it. I love the characters though, especially Oscar. He's exactly what you think he is, and you have to respect that. Nia, on the other hand, is fun-loving and impulsive. Not the best combination when you're trying to stay under the radar in a town where parents go to get their wild kids under control. Sherman is a dirty pig who's trying, to the best of his abilities, to do what's best for him, and it ruins the lives of several people who you think shouldn't have their lives ruined--namely, the protagonists. Mandi is just a brainwashed freak. She sort of scares me, actually. Oscar's dad, though. Ooh, if I met that man in real life I would hurt him very badly. He's worse than every villain you've ever met in real life or books, if only because he has no mercy. I mean, sure, some villains in some may kill without a second look, but Oscar's dad is human first, or, at least slightly human, and then he condemns himself irreversibly in three pages. It's sickening. But at the same time, very enjoyable. Humans impulses in a fictional setting is one of the best types of story, in my opinion, because it shows that humans all over the place, no matter where or when, are never perfect. In my life, that is a very comforting principle to have.
But yes, Candor is a book in which nothing is as it seems. It may come off as perfect, but it leaves a slightly bitter aftertaste. And the first taste is all the sweeter for that.
Oscar Campbell is the perfect student, son, friend, boyfriend, and criminal. He has a 115% average in biology, he makes his father toast every morning, he hangs with all the nerds so they won't feel left out, he eats carrot sticks in the movie theater with his girlfriend, the second-best student in the school . . . and he's busy undermining his father's Utopian society. He'll sneak you out from the town of Candor for a "small" fee. Candor, the town his father created after Oscar's brother died. Candor, the town where everyone is brainwashed to do as they're told. Candor, where every thing's perfect. At least, it's supposed to be. Oscar's the one anomaly, the one person in the town of Candor who knows how to block out the brainwashing messages. But will he be able to help bad girl, new girl, Nia, overcome the evil charm of Candor, or will he choose to help himself instead?
Yet another book that I love. What is there not to love about a book that suggests that kids do it better than grown-ups? But it's fun watching how Oscar knows more than everyone else does. It's fun watching him try to impress Nia, even while fighting his good-boy urges. It's sad looking back into Oscar's memories, and it's heartbreaking how everything all falls into place . . .
I won't give away the ending, but I'll let you know I have a love-hate relationship with it. I love the characters though, especially Oscar. He's exactly what you think he is, and you have to respect that. Nia, on the other hand, is fun-loving and impulsive. Not the best combination when you're trying to stay under the radar in a town where parents go to get their wild kids under control. Sherman is a dirty pig who's trying, to the best of his abilities, to do what's best for him, and it ruins the lives of several people who you think shouldn't have their lives ruined--namely, the protagonists. Mandi is just a brainwashed freak. She sort of scares me, actually. Oscar's dad, though. Ooh, if I met that man in real life I would hurt him very badly. He's worse than every villain you've ever met in real life or books, if only because he has no mercy. I mean, sure, some villains in some may kill without a second look, but Oscar's dad is human first, or, at least slightly human, and then he condemns himself irreversibly in three pages. It's sickening. But at the same time, very enjoyable. Humans impulses in a fictional setting is one of the best types of story, in my opinion, because it shows that humans all over the place, no matter where or when, are never perfect. In my life, that is a very comforting principle to have.
But yes, Candor is a book in which nothing is as it seems. It may come off as perfect, but it leaves a slightly bitter aftertaste. And the first taste is all the sweeter for that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)