On DNF-ing

It always sucks to DNF a book. It's like you're letting the author, and yourself, down in a way. I have seen the sentiment before of never quitting on a book, regardless of how bad it is. I have friends who are the same way. Hell, I have one friend who skips book one of every series because he insists it is "all setup" and that the "second one recaps anyway," but that is a discussion for a different day.

I spent most of my formative years burning through every fantasy novel I could get my hands on. I've read nearly every Dragonlance novel, yes even the spin-offs. I worked through Piers Anthony's entire catalog, and even Terry Goodkind's. Though, that last one is more on the regrettable side. At least, I know what to avoid now. 

And, yeah, I read a ton of old white dude fantasy. I lived in a small Florida town, so I'm just glad I had access to some good libraries and resources, but my scope of fiction knowledge was woefully slim then. After high school, I course corrected that in university and explored stories from other voices and perspective, which cultivated my love of speculative fiction and weird literature. I also kept at it with fantasy and read the likes of R.F Kuang, Bradley, and Hobb.

But I reached a point where I just could not get through most fantasy novels. The burnout was real. I stepped away from fantasy for years. My main interests grew into what you see me review here, though I haven't touched on science fiction much yet on this blog. Give me weird. Give me speculative. Give me work from voices and perspectives I don't normally get in my day-to-day life. 

I find it difficult to put together what exactly my "problem" with fantasy is as of late. Even nearly 8 years after stepping back, I struggle to get through the vast majority of fantasy that I pick up.  It ends up feeling like homework, and it sits on my bedside table glaring at me, judging my inability to finish it. It's not that fantasy is long. I mean, it is. But that's not the issue. If a book has me in its grips, then the length of it does not matter. 

Now, there have been exceptions in recent years. Priory of the Orange Tree was lovely and had me hooked. Same with the Light Bringer series. And, to illustrate my prior point, these books are huge. But I find that if a fantasy novel doesn't hook me immediately, it simply won't. For most other genres, I can sit back and let the intrigue build. With fantasy, my patience, perhaps, is worn down over the years. I don't know. I'm not writing this out to give some clear answer or unravel the web of my fantasy-avoidant psyche.

I tried to give it yet another shot by reading  The Element of Fire by Martha Wells. I came off the hype train that is The Murderbot Diaries and felt like I slammed into a brick wall with TEOF. Yes, it was the author's first novel. Yes, it is entirely different in tone. But, the thing is, I'm not here to rip this novel apart or offer a deep critique. 

I don't think it is fair to write up a full review of something I didn't finish. That said, I got 2/3rds of the way through it, and it was a fine novel. And I can usually finish a 'fine' novel. 

This ramble is all to get at one question: What makes you quit a book?  

I'd be curious to hear what makes you put that much-anticipated novel down. What is your breaking point, or do you refuse to DNF? 

Also, maybe I am reading the wrong books. I could be out of touch with fantasy's current beating heart. What are your fantasy recommendations? Who is doing something new and interesting in the genre that is a must read? I already have N.K. Jemisin on my radar, and I plan to give their work a shot here soon.

The Memory Police - Review

The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa - Review

"I remembered. The pages of the book had opened and fluttered through the air just the way birds had once spread their wings and flown off to distant places. But this memory, too, was soon erased by the flames, leaving nothing but the burning night."

 The Memory Police is a surreal and deeply unsettling novel. While it may not be horror in the traditional sense, it evoked such a strong sense of dread that I found myself struggling to put it down. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. I knew what was inevitably coming; however, I could not look away.

 While the story is one of loss, pain, and dread it is told through the lens of an apathetic unnamed narrator. She experiences the loss directly. Her past fades. Key memories are taken from her, but she struggles to find the urge to resist, to care. Her career is lost. Stories themselves are taken from the world. The nature that surrounds her is stripped bare. Her friends and family are stolen and forgotten.

Even when, ultimately, every last thing is taken from her, she has only found a sliver of resistance within herself. When body, limb, and mind fade she appears to only go through the motions of resistance. She feels that she fundamentally cannot fight what is happening to herself and the others of the island. 

Her struggle is seen through a character named R who is unaffected by the memories being lost. He sees the 'truth' of her loss being within her own mind, but he cannot stop the slow sloughing away of what makes the narrator herself. 

This is the sort of story that poses more questions than answers. Some may find it frustrating for its lack of clarity, but I think the story would be done a disservice by having some of the burning questions being answered. Knowing the purpose of the memory police, the people in charge of it, the reason for the loss, etc would be akin to peeling away the curtain of Lovecraftian horror and showing the true nature of it. Knowing these things would tell a different story entirely. 

To me, this story shows how much we can adapt to. No matter what is taken from the narrator and those around her, she finds a way to find purpose. She is a novelist. When stories are taken away from the collective conscious, she finds purpose in a new job. There is a danger in accepting normalcy. Injustice is abound in the narrator's story, but she only wants to continue and avoid causing trouble. It is better to keep her head down and stay out of the way.

And yet, she finds herself acting the rebel even if she would not acknowledge her acts as such directly. She hides away R from the memory police. She communicates with those in hiding and gives aid to others who seek refuge. Her actions often stand in direct contrast with her narration. Given her memory loss, she is by nature unreliable. She describes herself as this uncaring subject, but she cares deeply for everyone around her. Even beyond what the memory police take from her, she sacrifices what remains of herself to keep these people she cares for safe.

The side plot of her novel within the novel speaks to this directly. She is locked away, her true voice taken from her.  It gives an antagonist to the ephemeral, formless memory loss happening to her in her own world. 

Her story isn't one of a leader, a fighter, or some grandiose tale of rebellion. It hones in on this microcosm, to an individual in an impossible scenario. In the world offered by The Memory Police, most of us would find ourselves living similar, tragic lives.

I'd like to think I would be the R of this story, rallying against the norm and fighting for the truth. But if I woke to find my world slowly slipping from my grasp, I don't know if I would act differently than our unnamed protagonist. We aren't all born to lead the fight, but we can make changes within the constraints of our situation. Our narrator does what she can with the impossible hand that she has been dealt. 

I found myself sympathizing with her more as the story continued. There is a place for hope, for fighting what is coming. But when you are stripped down to nothing and have no more left to give, what is there left to cling to?

The prose is simple with the occasional flourish of striking imagery. The matter-of-fact nature in which the story is told only goes further to emphasize the inevitability and resignation of the narrator's situation. 

If you are a fan of dystopian stories or weird lit, this one is well worth the read. If you have already given it a read, I'd love to hear your thoughts.  

Welcome to Cyberpsace

I have been writing up a bunch of lore and documents for my next Cy_Borg campaign. I had so much fun with the base setting that I felt ready to launch into a homebrew world.

This was the genre/setting teaser before the hefty lore came through. Suffice it to say that I am excited to run this corpo-dystopian nightmare for my players.

Sweet Bean Paste - Review

Sweet Bean Paste by Durian Sukegawa - Review

Recently, I've been reading more out of my usual genres (speculative fiction, science fiction, and dystopia) with a particular interest in modern Japanese literature from the Heisei period to current day.

 

I've had a vested interest in Japan for quite a while, and I am well read in terms of classic Japanese literature such as Dazai and Soseki. After having spent a good deal of time in the country, I wanted to round out my reading list with some of the more popular authors of current day, particularly books that touch on societal pressures, work life, and relationships. With a potential move to Japan on the table for me in the near future, I stacked my reading list with handful of books that looked to capture these themes. 

 

Sweet Bean Paste is one of the more grounded books I picked. It follows the story of a Dorayaki shop owner named Sentaro. Jaded on his work and in-debt to the widow of an old friend, the book follows Sentaro's journey as he meets an old woman named Tokue that reignites his passion for life. 

 

The most striking theme this book seeks to answer is "Why do we live?" A common sentimentality, beyond just Japan, is that we live to be of use. Productivity is ground into our heads, and it feels like we have to contribute in order to be worth something. Sukegawa rejects this theme with Sweet Bean Paste by exploring the lives of those who cannot contribute to the world in a traditional way. 

Tokue, an early victim of Hansen's disease, is locked away in a sanitarium from a young age. 50 long years leave her stuck behind these walls, and she has had to come to terms with her life in a different way than most of us ever will. What meaning is there with a life lived behind the hedges of a sanitarium? So, too, what is the purpose of a life cut impossibly short? 

 

Sweet Bean Paste presents an optimistic answer despite focusing on themes of depression, suicide, death, and imprisonment. Towards the end of the novel, Tokue presents Sentaro with a letter that says:

 "If my view of the world disappears, then everything that I see disappears too... And then I thought, what if this didn't apply just to me, what if there were no other human beings in this world? What about all the different forms of life that have the ability to be aware of the presence of others - what would happen if none of them existed either? The answer is that this world in all its infinity would disappear."

Experiencing life is the answer, to see the sky and wind and life itself. For, we experience the world in a way that no one else can. With our life, we give to the world a perspective. To see, and listen, and feel is enough. There is no need to be productive, to live with any concrete meaning. For, what is the meaning of a child that dies of sickness? Many would say it was lost, meaningless to society. However, Sukegawa would posit that life itself and the experience we have is the meaning of life. 

I know I struggle with meaning, as do most. So many of us want to leave a trace of our existence, of our lives lived. Some pursue this to the most extreme ends. But, sometimes, it is okay to be content with simply a life well lived. To be present and to open yourself to the world is difficult, especially in today's modern world of distraction and media.

While this book resonated with me deeply, I am sure that I will continue my struggles to shout above the noise. What about you? What drives your life and gives you meaning? 

Beyond just the theme, the story is told beautifully. While I am reading through the warped lens of translation, the prose was plain without being boring. I struggled with Before the Coffee Gets Cold despite the interesting concept because the prose was incredibly direct and short. While Sweet Bean Paste is by no means flowery, it offers a relatable prose befitting the characters and story being told.  

The story is short. This novel does not linger and provide clarity or a complete story for the main character Sentaro. While I can see some feeling satisfied with this, I felt the story went as far as it needed to. It was never really about Sentaro. It was about the age-spanning relationships he formed with Tokue & Wakana while finding a new purpose in a bleak life.

Overall, it was an excellent read. If you have a quiet afternoon, I recommend taking the time to read it through in a single sitting. If you have read it, what are your thoughts? I'd love to read them.

The Shifting Silo