She Reads Books

You might have seen Wendy Kays on Dr Phil lately (or as we call it at my house, The Mustachioed Egg Show) promoting her new non-fiction title, Game Widow. Well, I can one-up you: I’ve read her book.

It’s pretty good. It’s an extremely quick read — I feel like I finished it in about twenty minutes, although I know that it actually took a fair piece longer than that. And it provides a brief but broad introduction to the world of video games, gamers, and video game addiction.

Here’s the back jacket:

Is your loved one constantly monopolizing your computer or TV to play video gmaes? Is your schedule constantly set back by entreaties of “five more minutes” or “let me find a save point?” [sic] If so, you might be a game widow. Wendy Kays, former game widow, is here to help. In this book, she successfully bridges the gap between those who game and those who don’t by sharing invaluable insight and practical strategies for reclaiming your relationship with a video-gaming spouse, friend, or family member.

Yup, that’s pretty accurate. Kays digs into the psychological appeal behind gaming, discusses various opinions regarding video game addiction, explains how the video game industry works, and gives some guidelines and suggestions for dealing with gamers, as well as a resource list for further study. It’s not a gripping read — I mean, it’s non-fiction, so it doesn’t really have a plot — but it is informative and easy to digest.

One downside I spotted is the lack of an index. This is something that bothers me; the first thing I do when I flip to a non-fiction text is to check if the index is any good. This index is no good, because it doesn’t exist. I don’t approve.

Apart from that, though, I think that this is a fairly good introduction to the subject and a fairly good book besides.

I receive a lot of review books, but I have never once told lies about the book just because I got a free copy of it. However, some authors seem to feel that if they send you a copy of their book for free, you should give it a positive review.

Do you think reviewers are obligated to put up a good review of a book, even if they don’t like it? Have we come to a point where reviewers *need* to put up disclaimers to (hopefully) save themselves from being harassed by unhappy authors who get negative reviews?

Ha, I think we all know where this question is coming from.

Do I think that reviewers are obligated to review books positively, because they came for free? Absolutely not.

Should reviewers have to put up disclaimers explaining this? They shouldn’t have to, but it might be a wise decision anyway — just to have something in print to fall back on in case of nastiness.

I think that any author who is expecting positive reviews only because they put a lot of effort into writing something, or because they or their publicist spent money sending books out to people to review, is very inexperienced or deluded or both. Just because something took a lot of effort to create doesn’t mean it’s any good; just because something came for free into a reviewer’s house doesn’t mean it’s any good, either.

If our whole schtick as book bloggers/reviewers is to talk about the books we’ve read, good and bad and ugly, then we should be doing that in an honest fashion regardless of how we received individual books. And if you know that you can’t be objective about a book, because your bff wrote it, or you met the author and he is oh-so-nice and funny, or anything, your review should start with “This is a biased opinion because” and continue on from there. Or it shouldn’t be written.

I think that if we want to take ourselves seriously as a community, we have to be more than a marketing machine spewing always-positives. If a book sucks, I usually say so. And if a book is super amazingly good, I say so even louder.

Now, I’ve personally made the decision not to accept review books anymore. But I still will be reviewing the books I’m reading for school and for pleasure, and I will still be writing honest reviews. It’s an integrity thing, I think.

There’s been a certain amount of debate in the book blogosphere recently about the role that book bloggers do and/or should play in reviewing books, and about authors behaving badly (here too), and such other sundry things. I haven’t been commenting on this much on other people’s blogs, but I have been ruminating thereupon, and have reached some conclusions, at least as far as this blog is concerned.

I have decided that, as of this point forward, I will no longer be accepting books for review from authors, publishers, or publicists. There may be some exceptions to this rule, but they are not really worth mentioning at this point. My about page will soon be modified to reflect this change.

I do still have a stack of for-review books to work through, and I will get to all of those in due time. After that, however, I will be concentrating my reading on less-new books, from my own collection and from libraries and from other such sources.

My reasons are as follows:

1) It’s not you, it’s me.

Right now, I am simply reading too much — and doing too much with the rest of my life — to be able to keep up with reviews. I have an awful lot of books to get through for school, which means that books from authors and people get pushed further and further down the pile. That’s not particularly fair to those who have sent me texts to read. I cannot get reviews up in a timely manner anymore.

2) Actually, sometimes it is you.

Some of the review copies I’ve received over the past few months have been really fantastic, super books, books I’m glad that I’ve read. Others, however, have ranged from mediocre right down to abysmal. I haven’t the patience to figure out which is which, and there’s nothing more irksome than slogging through some bad book just because I’m obligated to review it. I’d rather spend my pleasure-reading time actually reading for pleasure.

So what will change here? Probably not that much, as far as the rest of you are concerned (those of you who are not me, I mean). Obviously I will keep reading books and writing about books — I’ll just be sourcing the books I read in a different way. Things here might become moderately more amusing, since I’ll be more relaxed about the reviews that I am doing (though no promises). I may still participate in the occasional book tour or whatever, but I’m going to play those by ear.

To answer one question that may be asked, I’m not doing this because I’m afraid of having an experience like Trish’s. I think that authors like that are not common, and I’m not particularly concerned if authors don’t like my reviews. The discussions centred around that were not the catalyst of my decision, although they were timely.

Heads up, everyone, I’m reviewing the Bible. Well, sort of. I am reviewing a particular edition of the New Testament, magazine-style, with pictures. I am, by and large, reviewing the pictures.

All I will say about the text is that this book thing uses the Today’s English Version, which I think of as generally pretty crummy as translations go. But it’s meant for people who like little words in short sentences, and on that note it achieves its goal of being simple to understand. I just don’t like it.

So, the Bible Illuminated project introduces itself thusly (from the website):

The concept originated with a general philosophical dinner table discussion between Michel Gyring and Mats Rabe in Stockholm, Sweden. The conversation, which led to several other discussions with key individuals, asked the question “Why people don’t read historical texts” and they began pondering if the traditional format or design turned people off. They realized there was a huge opportunity to re-design or illuminate these types of old texts. This was the beginning of Illuminated World (formerly Förlaget Illuminated Sweden, AB.)

[snip]

Illuminated World seeks to introduce today’s audience to a revolutionary contemporary Bible, one that encourages dialogue and is culturally relevant, accessible and easily digestible for any reader regardless of religious, economic, racial or social background.

We have no religious agenda nor do we support a specific faith. Bible Illuminated is intended to be a unique vehicle for reacquainting today’s reader with one of the most important historical, and cultural texts ever written.

Okay. First of all, I don’t understand the idea that people don’t read historical texts because of their “traditional format and design” (by which I understand them to mean, you know “books”) but perhaps this is the case. I dunno. We’re all readers here, but maybe you guys know some people like this? And I find it strange that a group out there is publishing Bibles without supporting “a specific faith”. Doesn’t that seem a bit … strange? It’s like publishing the Quran, and saying “Oh, no, we don’t have anything to say about Islam — we just want to publish the Quran and for everybody to read it.” And there’s not much to say to that except, “um, okay.”

But, whatever, you want to put together a big Bible magazine thingy, you go right ahead. And apparently sales of Bibles in Sweden have skyrocketed (Sweden being where this was originally published) and, as a Christian, I can’t really argue with getting the Word out there. And I firmly believe that even people who don’t want to read the Bible as a religious text should be reading it as literature, because boy, is there ever a lot of stuff in English lit that you just won’t get if you don’t know your Bible.

But. But but but but but. So much but.

I have a lot of issues with this particular publication. Can you tell?

First of all, it’s shoddily put together. It’s just a big magazine — thicker than the TV guide, not as big as the Sears catalogue — and it’s bound as a magazine. And I can tell you that it crumples like a magazine, too, because my copy arrived damaged. I can’t see this being the sort of text that will last for a long time in the same way that a book does. It just doesn’t seem very strong. Why put out something that won’t physically last? Especially when it costs about the same as a large hardcover.

Secondly, there are the pictures. Now how these work, as I understand it, is that the project people grabbed a bunch of other people and said, “Here, choose some verses and pick pictures for them.” The results are… interesting and I suppose that they do “encourage dialogue” (I mean look at me, blah-de-blahing away). But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why most of the pictures got in. They are a motly conglomerate of the irreverent and the irrelevant. Some are offensive. Many are blatant in their agenda. Few-to-none of them are particularly helpful in terms of illustrating biblical passages or helping to explain them.

I do believe that the Bible is a text that is “revolutionary… culturally relevant” and largely accessible. I do not think that this text futhers that reputation in any particular way. If you want to read a Bible, there are better editions to choose. And if you’d like to look at pretty pictures, I suggest going to the museum instead. Give this one a pass.

I’ve asked, in the past, about whether you more often buy your books, or get them from libraries. What I want to know today, is, WHY BUY?

Even if you are a die-hard fan of the public library system, I’m betting you have at least ONE permanent resident of your bookshelves in your house. I’m betting that no real book-lover can go through life without owning at least one book. So … why that one? What made you buy the books that you actually own, even though your usual preference is to borrow and return them?

If you usually buy your books, tell me why. Why buy instead of borrow? Why shell out your hard-earned dollars for something you could get for free?

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I definitely most often buy books, or get them from BookMooch. I very occasionally borrow books for research from my university libraries, but I can’t even remember the last time I borrowed something from the public library.

I buy a lot of books because I need them for school, as they are on reading lists and suchlike. I’ve found it’s simply more convenient to have a copy that I can write in, if need be, and that I can throw around in my backpack without worrying overmuch because it belongs to someone else. So that’s one of the reasons I elect to purchase rather than borrow. I tend to abuse my books a bit, and it’s nice to know that I won’t be fined or frowned at for doing so!

I think the biggest thing otherwise is that I like to have books on hand. I re-read things a lot, and since I never know what mood will strike me, I have to be prepared! Besides, books are neat. I love being surrounded by words, and after a while, many of my editions start to feel like old friends. I like being able to lend books out to people — to have lots of resources when my mom or my brothers come to me and say, “I need a book to read.”

Plus, it’s hard to fit going to the library into my schedule. Well, actually, that’s not strictly true. If I really wanted to do it, I could. But I can’t be bothered. There are still loads of books in the house that I haven’t read, and so why go out of my way to reach inferior copies? Sure, sometimes I’ll end up buying a dud — but in that case, I can pass it along on BookMooch to someone who’d really like to read it.

I’m actually surprised when I run into people who are big library users. I’m all for libraries, but when it comes to borrowing books, I’m much more likely to grab them from friends.

Other than beginning-of-term buying, I don’t actually purchase books that often, so it’s not a huge problem fiscally. When I do go book hunting, I hit the second-hand and discount shops first; I hardly ever buy new anymore, and when I do, it’s usually not from a big box chain. I like supporting the little places in my neighbourhood — and when I can sometimes get 10 books for $20, why would I trade that in for one new trade paperback? Madness!

Storage can be a bigger problem. I have four bookcases in my bedroom, and they are each full and overflowing. From where I’m sitting I can see six other stacks of books, of varying sizes. These are mostly on the floor. I’m going to see if I can rearrange my room over the Christmas holidays to accomodate one more set of shelves. Because purging is out of the question, you know. (Addicted? Who, me?)

Perhaps one day I’ll start borrowing more, depending on where I live and how much room I have — but for the moment, books are cheap and plentiful and make me happy, and so I buy.

Visiting from Booking Through Thursday? If you like what you’ve read, why not subscribe?

For some reason, I don’t know why, I had a strong impression when reading this collection of short stories that it was a Canadian book. There’s nothing Canadian in it. It’s Australian, actually. But it has a very familiar feel.

At any rate, I got a chance to review Shaun Tan’s work through the LibraryThing Early Reviewers program. The most fun part about getting ER books, if you’re me, is that I always forget that they’re coming — and so it was a lovely surprise when this book showed up in the mail.

It was a better surprise when I read it.

Here’s the back:

do you remember the water buffalo at the end of our street? or the deep-sea diver we found near the underpass? do you know why dogs bark in the middle of the night?

Shaun Tan, creator of The Arrival, The Lost Thing, and The Red Tree, reveals the quiet mysteries of everyday life: homemade pets, dangerous weddings, stranded sea mammals, tiny exchange students and secret rooms filled with darkness and delight.

Tales from Outer Suburbia is a hard-bound collection of short stories, a delightful picture book for grownups. It is heartbreakingly whimsical, and the stories feel, somehow, both alien and familiar. There’s the story of Eric, a foreign-exchange student small enough to use a walnut as a suitcase. There’s the night of the great turtle rescue. There’s a wake, and instructions for making your own pet out of discarded household objects. And an explanation for what happens to the world when the map ends.

The great strength of this book is in the illustrations, as the text is mostly spot-on, as in “The Water Buffalo” and “The Nameless Holiday”, but sometimes lags a bit, as in “Broken Toys”. Tan uses many different techniques: pencil crayon, paint, ink line drawings, and collage feature prominently. The pictures sometimes do more to offer a counterpoint to the text than to “illustrate” it, I think. It is good.

The stories themselves are brief, with a few of them being only two or three paragraphs long. They are, for the most part, unresolved vignettes — glimpses into other moments in other lives. They ache.

You can view some of the illustrations and Shaun Tan’s comments here and here, respectively.

Veterans: thank you.

This morning I had the honour of participating in my university’s Remembrance Day ceremony — my choir sang an arrangement of In Flanders Fields and also led the congregation in a few hymns and the national anthems. I’ve participated this way as long as I’ve been in the choir. We get a good sized crowd out every year, standing quietly in the cold, but every year there are fewer and fewer veterans.

Canada has one remaining World War One veteran. He is a hundred and eight years old.

Sometimes people get uptight about Remembrance Day, usually in my experience those who are particularly anti-war.

“Those soldiers died for a lie — those soldiers should never have been fighting — dying for a country, that means less than nothing.”

And if this is so, then what? Was their sacrifice any less worthy? Did they suffer less? Did they die easier? My friends, this is not so.

Regardless of your ideas about wars, or just wars, or unjust wars, this is an important day. We must recognize the sacrifices of both those who gave their lives for the country and those who survived — who, in some ways, have given us even more.

Wear your poppy. Thank a veteran. Read some good books:

• The Wars, by Timothy Findley (WWI)
• All Quiet on the Western Front, by Erich Maria Remarque (WWI)
• A Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway (WWI)
• The Guests of War Trilogy, by Kit Pearson (WWII)
• The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak (WWII)
• The Diary of a Young Girl, by Anne Frank (WWII)
• Catch-22, by Joseph Heller (WWII)
• The Bridge over the River Kwai, by Pierre Boulle (WWII)

Which October books? Those ones. Over there. Them what I did got read.

The Screwtape Letters, by C. S. Lewis. This is a longstanding personal favourite, because it is both splendidly written and extremely useful. The Screwtape Letters is a collection of letters “from a senior to a junior devil”, pertaining largely to matters of sin and temptation, and touching on most of the general ares of human existence, both carnal and spiritual. It is good.

*Tamburlaine the Great, part One, by Christopher Marlowe. Tamburlaine is a shepherd who conquers all of Asia. Everything he does has a positive outcome, at least for him — not so much for the people he’s conquering. In Part Two, which I haven’t yet read, he dies fat and happy, surrounded by those he loves. You might have an impression that all renaissance drama is about star-crossed lovers and/or brooding tragedians; I tell you, this is not the case.

One thing that I thought particularly interesting about this play is that Tamburlaine conquers all sorts of armies and such by the power of his words as much as by the sword. I don’t think it’s plausible, though. As I pointed out in a paper on the subject, everyone in the play talks exactly like Tamburlaine does — which is to say, like Marlowe does, he of the “mighty line”. (Kids: learn to speak eloquently. You too can conquer Asia!)

*What Maisie Knew, by Henry James. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, I’m Henry James and I couldn’t be more uninteresting if I tried.

*Catch-22, by Joseph Heller. Catch-22 is deliciously funny right up until it gets horrible. And when I say “horrible” I refer to the contents rather than to the writing; Heller is stellar (heh). I thoroughly enjoyed this novel, although it took me a fair while to finish it, on account of its very large largeness.

*Looking for Alaska, by John Green. My brain wants to have John Green’s brain’s babies. If you follow me. I devoured Looking for Alaska in one sitting and have added several other books of his to my wishlist. This book reminded me of Catcher in the Rye, except for being cool and interesting instead of insufferably pretentious and boring. Huzzah!

*A Hatful of Sky, by Terry Pratchett. Terry Pratchett is, of course, one of my favourite writers, and so it shouldn’t be very surprising that I liked A Hatful of Sky so very much. I liked Tiffany Aching especially; it was the first time I’ve read one of the books about her, and while I understand that there was one that preceded this novel, it stood on its own very well. She’s much more interesting than Rincewind, you know (but then, pretty much everyone is).

*Arrow of God, by Chinua Achebe. Not as good as Things Fall Apart. Still lots better than Death and the King’s Horseman (see below).

*The Oath, by Frank Peretti. Frank Peretti is one of the few authors I’ve found whose Christian fiction doesn’t make me want to throw up a little bit. It’s raw, not sugary, and full of action, rather than syrup. That being said, I thought that The Oath was particularly weak compared to other works of his. It was a challenge to get to the end of this novel; the action really drags in the last hundred pages or so, where it really should be climaxing. If you’re interested in trying some Peretti, I’d recommend Piercing the Darkness instead.

*Dr Faustus, by Christopher Marlowe. Probably you are familiar with the general scheme of the Faust legend. But did you know that in Marlowe’s play, the unfortunate doctor explodes at the end of the last act? It is really quite amazing.

*Under Western Eyes, by Joseph Conrad. Under Western Eyes is a dull book about a bunch of dull Russians who run around pretending at being spies in Geneva. As with many books on October’s list, I got about three-quarters of the way through before putting it down for the next thing. Perhaps it’ll be a special project over the Christmas holidays to finish all of my school reading. But I still don’t think I’ll finish this one.

*Death and the King’s Horseman, by Wole Soyinka. A lot of people in my class thought that this play was very good and interesting — but I’ve been reading Marlowe and co. lately, and so my opinion is more like: pfft, whatever. I mean, I suppose that it has some good literary qualities on its own, but I don’t think that Death and the King’s Horseman compares to other literature very well — neither to other plays I’ve studied, nor to other African lit. It was a disappointment on the whole. Although the cover is an excellent sort of green. I approve of green.

*Faking Grace, by Tamara Leigh. (reviewed) I read this book and I liked it. But I didn’t want to review it, so my mom did it for me. The end.

Read Responsibly, by Bill Barnes and Gene Ambaum. Yes, I’m re-reading my Unshelved books again. Do you want to make something of it? Well, do you?

*Jpod, by Douglas Coupland. A longer review of Jpod will come forth once I’ve got my act back together here. In the meantime, please enjoy this brief explanation by the good folks at Unshelved. Yes, them again. At least I’m not talking about Marlowe.

*The Book of Lost Things, by John Connolly. (reviewed) Oh boy oh boy oh boy. The Book of Lost Things was something else.

*Edward II, by Christopher Marlowe. I know, I know, Marlowe, Marlowe, Marlowe, blah de blah de blah. I know. But a) he’s really good, and b) it’s on my syllabus and so I have to read it anyway. Edward II is a fairly typical “weak king” play with some homoeroticism thrown in for good measure. That’s all, really.