I watched a video one time on Youtube of a soldier in Iraq throwing a puppy off of a cliff for fun. You could hear the puppy's cry get farther away asI watched a video one time on Youtube of a soldier in Iraq throwing a puppy off of a cliff for fun. You could hear the puppy's cry get farther away as it plummeted lower and lower. You can probably still find this video if you search "soldier throws puppy off cliff." This video deeply affected me, and I do not really consider myself an "animal lover." I felt very strong hatred toward the men, very intense sadness for the puppy. How could someone do that? And yet...I eat meat.
In fact, I eat meat every day. I love meat. There is nothing quite as satisfying as a still-bloody hunk of cow, seasoned and with a side of loaded mashed potatoes. And I sleep well every night. Not a single toss or turn for the likely thousands of animals that have been outright slaughtered for simply my mealtime pleasure. I am aware of this strange inconsistency. I do nothing to change it. And thus is the moral predicament, the seemingly bizarre relationship humans have with animals of the other species that both Hal Herzog, and now myself, are completely fascinated by.
Hal is an anthrozoologist. He studies, through various and rather crazy research adventures, how humans relate to animals. He's been to cock fights, animals rights marches, the homes of hoarders. This book was so incredibly interesting. I found myself laughing at my own irrationalaties when it comes to my views about animals. Cock fighting, for example. Evil, right? Debased men working through some sort of Freudian penis-envy debacle by putting their literal cocks in a ring and having them duke it out. Well, sort of. But not quite. Cock fighting is an intricate and perhaps not all that inhumane sport when you compare it to the lives of chickens raised for eating. I think anyone who just had some nice Tyson Chicken Snackers did much more of an immoral inservice to animal kind than a single cock fighter. Cocks raised for fighting get very special treatment for two years before theyre put in the ring. They get a very special diet, and loads of sunshine to help bring out their inner Muhammad Ali. Sure, in every race 50% of the contestants wind up thrown into a bin with the other losers. But, at the end of the day, two years of doting and thirty minutes of intense battle leading to death is still far better than the life a normal feeding chicken lives, cooped up in a ridiculous pen with a ridiculous number of other chickens, until within a very short period of time they're man-handled and taken somewhere that mechanically and quickly cuts their heads off and lets their bodies bleed out on an assembly line.
I guess my point is, the book makes you stop and think about why we deem some animal treatment as cruelty and other forms of animal treatment as the "way life is." Why do I love pandas and give a rat's ass about the fate of the Peruvian scorpion? Why are there 3 times as many women in animal rights activism than men? Why, oh why, do I have absolutely no response to the fact that millions of lab mice are euthanized before experimentation every year simply because they are surplus, and yet I had two quite dear pet mice as a child for many years?
It's a conundrum. And a really fascinating one. The book is incredibly well-researched, the voice is tongue-in-cheek, down to earth, and neutral. Hal isn't necessarily trying to convince you one way or the other. This is not the book of an activist. It's the book of a curious scientist, who, also, happens to be both a meat eater and animal lover.
So, in the academic program I'm in at my high school, you pick a topic to do a big essay on during Senior Year. Your ~*Extended Essay*~. Apparently a So, in the academic program I'm in at my high school, you pick a topic to do a big essay on during Senior Year. Your ~*Extended Essay*~. Apparently a big deal. Or something.... So, anyway, I chose to do an analytical paper on this novel. My research question is: "How do Updike's Western prejudices affect his characterization of the main Muslim character, Ahmad?" Of course, because my rough draft was done in a complete rush, I don't have my ideas really written out how I'd like yet, but I have my thoughts generally formulated.
To begin, Updike is a fantastic writer of prose. His freshness of expression is what has earned him such literary merit, no doubt. This is the only book I've ever read of his, but he is really really gifted. There were moments in this novel where I'd read a description and have to put the book down for the moment because it was so great. ~needed time to soak in. And honestly, I'm probably one of those readers that cares a bit more about the style of writing and the prose itself than the plot. Which is really the only reason that the book got 4 stars.
But, that aside, I had some serious problems with this novel. First of all, the only trait Ahmad seems to have is his piety. There were a few moments where he experienced lust or doubt, but even those emotions traced back to his religion. There was absolutely no other aspect to Ahmad other than the fact he was a Muslim, and eventually, a terrorist. The secondary characters, like Mr.Levy and even his fat wife Beth, had more character development than Ahmad. Updike did a terrible job at humanizing Ahmad's story and creating a full circle plot line around his life. (Oh also: can someone explain to me how Ahmad became so fundamental when he's lived with only his liberal, free-spirit mother since the age of 6? that doesn't make any sense, and it wasnt explained)
The dialogue was awkward and unrealistic. The dialogue read like his prose. I hate when writers do this. The characters all talk like the writer writes. So, a few downfalls there.
The ending was fairly disappointing. Fairly predictable. The plot was kinda so-so. As far as a terrorism book, I have no doubt somebody could've told a far more interesting story than Updike.
Truly, this book's one main appeal is Updike's description and his use of language. If you appreciate that enough to read the 300 pages of mediocre story-telling, then it's a go. ...more
I understand that the "Stream-of-Consciousness" writing style was intentional. So the all-over-the-place, overly simplistic, pointless way in which NaI understand that the "Stream-of-Consciousness" writing style was intentional. So the all-over-the-place, overly simplistic, pointless way in which Natalia narrated was supposed to be some sort of representation of her "lost, detached, emotional" response to the war and stifling marriage? Or something. It was shit. Not worth anyone's time.
I got excited when I thought she was going to kill her children. Maybe the book was picking up. There was going to be some brutal, "man that's messed up shit..." killing spree, and Natalia would go off to join the war. Unfortunately, what really happened was vastly less exciting and the whole novel was fairly anticlimactic. Another bust as far as this year's required reading goes. *Sigh* ...more
My main problem with this book, besides the general lack of character development and plot, is that its overall theme seems overdone.
The novel foll My main problem with this book, besides the general lack of character development and plot, is that its overall theme seems overdone.
The novel follows the story of a North Vietnamese soldier that loses love and faces the hardships of a physical, but also emotional war. Now, it might have been the fact that I had read Things They Carried and Red Badge of Courage only months before, but writing a story about the idea that war causes "emotional struggles" is not new. It is no longer controversial to depict the front lines as something other than noble and heroic.
Because I know that this novel was controversial in Northern Vietnam, I can understand the rise of its popularity and reputation. At the time, unveiling a side of the soldier that was not unfalteringly dedicated to die for their country was brazen. Now? Eh. 200 something pages about your inner battles is still a valid memoir about war, but I guess it's just not that interesting anymore? I'm not taken aback by its profundity. For its historical value, perhaps, the novel has merit. But literature-wise, Ninh's prose alone is not enough to keep it afloat when you take away the "important message" aspect. Because the message wasn't necessarily powerful. Things They Carried told about many of the same wartime hardships and did it with a hell of a lot more authority/skill. Ninh beats down his ideas to the point of literary pulp and the reader is left exhausted and a bit annoyed that nothing really revolutionary came after page 60 that hadn't already been clearly stated. Write an essay, for Christ's sake. Maybe a nice short story. No need to shove a singular idea into a plot-line when the medium of a novel does not provide your message any other benefits. Then my last criticism of Ninh's work is his clichéd writing. Overused metaphors, cheesy dialogue, trite story-line. Maybe Ninh had a really shitty translator? But nonetheless I had a hard time caring about characters that said things like, ~it was darkness that emanated from my soul~ ... Plus, as if I my opinion of Things They Carried's superiority was not already solidified, Ninh tries his hand at some disappointing metafiction and narrator-twists and it just falls flat. It all seemed too obvious. Though I do find the Vietnam War fascinating, and reading a novel from the Northern perspective was an interesting choice by my teacher, I still have to say that Ninh wasn't the author to do it justice. ...more
I would write a really thoughtful review on my response to Marquez' profound Latin American masterpiece. But, considering the fact that the majority oI would write a really thoughtful review on my response to Marquez' profound Latin American masterpiece. But, considering the fact that the majority of us have read this book already/know enough about it to lie and say they have, I won't.
Besides, I completely rushed the book due to my procrastination/cramming for dead lines.
I have decided this is my new favorite genre. Well-done, creative nonfiction about brutal murderers. I have too much pride to say I'm into "True CrimeI have decided this is my new favorite genre. Well-done, creative nonfiction about brutal murderers. I have too much pride to say I'm into "True Crime." This one is just as good, if not better, than In Cold Blood and Under the Banner of Heaven.
I was in kindergarten when Columbine happened. I don't even have any "where I was when I heard about it" type of memories like I do for 9/11. To be honest, I mostly knew it as a Michael Moore documentary and thought bowling was a crucial aspect of the plot. ~I'm really tuned in to the world.~ But either way, Cullen does such a fantastic fucking job of telling this story. It covered every aspect of the attack, from Eric and Dylan's upbringings to the legal aftermath of the massacre.
I legitimately feel some sort of ~personal togetherness~ with the Columbine victims after reading this book. I feel so involved with their story, with their heartbreak, with their resentment, with their anger.
Very powerful. Very disturbing. ALSO: Did you know that psychopaths literally can not process human emotions in the same way most people can? While most human brains are emotionally affected by trigger words like "murder" or "blood," psychopathic brains are not even triggered in the same neural areas. Instead of being emotionally affected by these words, psychopaths analyze them. In brain scans, psychopaths respond so drastically different than normal humans that their scan results, at a glance, would not even be categorized as human at all. How effing scary is that? :| ...more
I don't remember the day I decided I was Atheist. There was no revolutionary moment of clarity. I was shifting from a naive opinion of religion, (bas I don't remember the day I decided I was Atheist. There was no revolutionary moment of clarity. I was shifting from a naive opinion of religion, (based more on my hatred of wearing a dress and sitting still for two hours than anything else) to a mature understanding of the implications of these beliefs. Throughout my teens I transitioned from a Christian because that's what I did on Sunday morning, to a doubter, to an Agnostic, and then finally, to an Atheist. At the time, for whatever reason, I viewed it as the normal maturation process. You aged, and you learned, and you logically came to the conclusion that there was a certain disconnect between the world you lived in and the type of world that religion painted. The real implausibility of it all. The almighty God, the pearly gates.
I saw a sense of inflamed self-worth. Earth, in comparison to the vastness of everything else, was rather infinitesimal. A tiny speck of elements floating in blackness. On top of that, the time span in which humans had inhabited Earth was similarly minute. Then my life, among the billions and billions and billions that had lived before me, was so incredibly unimportant, so startlingly brief. So why were we the center of it all? Why were the "evil actions" of humans the tipping point to the destruction of the universe? Why did it seem like the human race was a tad too inconsecuential to be the axis? So it just seemed like a stretch to think the ruler of everything was sitting around having conversations with prophets, plotting his day to return, mapping out our fates and busying himself with a Naughty and Nice list. But, nonetheless, I understood it. Why else would there still be religions like Mormonism racking in converts day in and day out? Because there was a comfort in it all. I want God waiting for me after I die with a cup of hot chocolate and a good pat on the back, too. And if there was a way I could find myself rationalizing this belief, I very well might sleep better at night. But I know now that we have a certain responsibility to face these more difficult realities. Living in a place where we all coddle whichever belief system helps us feel better is dangerous. And though I doubt we had to read Krakauer's book to find evidence of this, it sure worked as another indicator that steadfast beliefs in one's own comforting delusions are lethal.
And I suppose that is what frustrates me the most. I don't hate those who practice religion, because I see the why. But I do have a difficult time respecting the institutions and mindsets that they promote and thus, sustain. The unfiltered hatred and violence that ensues from religious and spiritual belief is so overwhelming, so undeniable, that attending church on Sunday morning with knowledge of this puts in your hands a weighty decision. It needs to be more than "going because your family goes" and it needs to be more than "well, I figure I'll go just to be safe."
Krakaeur's book was dilligently researched, beautifully written, and extremely thought provoking. I was fascinated entirely by his story of the two Mormon Fundamentalists, bent on spilling the blood of Gentile sinners. But, more than merely a good dramatic story, it reconfirmed the dangers of faith. It was the warning of what one can allow to happen when fear of the unknown infiltrates our lives to the very core. This book deeply affected me, and I recommend anyone interested in reevaluating the nature of religion to read it. ...more
No, I did not read this whole book. No, I did not even read the majority of this book. Why? Because it was so fucking painful to read I don't think I No, I did not read this whole book. No, I did not even read the majority of this book. Why? Because it was so fucking painful to read I don't think I could have survived reading more than a few pages at a time if I had mustered up every bit of gusto in my entire body. Was it assigned? Yes. If you are an extreme Civil War enthusiast (and I do not mean that lightly), then you may, MAY, enjoy this. But even then.....................Dear god. ...more
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