Never Forgotten

Crushing heat, the stench goes on for days

Food is scarce, but the oppressive solitude

Wears far worse.

Hundreds of marks on the wall

Count the clock’s tireless journey.

You are not forgotten.

A mother’s glance happens upon a gold ribbon.

Tears spring to her eyes, unbidden,

Yet not unwelcome.

The father refuses to work on the car;

Restoration is not a solo project.

Sisters long for their protector, their friend.

You are not forgotten.

The young beauty, pledged for eternity

Yet only just begun

Has matched four years of bliss

With four of despair.

A babe’s first words are not “Dada,”

Because Dada is not known.

You are not forgotten

I am still alive...

I've just been busy with school and work.  I'm an English major (as you probably guessed), and I have to read several hundred pages per week for my classes that I get very little time to read what I desire.  This is why my posts have been..."erratic" (read: nonexistant) for the past month.

However, I will leave you with a Shakespearian quote and my take on it.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'


Henry V is an incredibly deep character, with both positive and negative traits.  This speech displays his ability to use emotional pleas to motivate his men (much like the politicians of today try to get votes, though in less flowery language).


First, let us set the stage.  Henry's army is laying siege to the city of Harfleur, and they are losing.  They have punched a hole in the wall surrounding the city, but every time they try to enter it they are repelled.  This city is vital for the continuance of the campaign against France, so Henry needs to rally his men and take the city.  He uses his exceptional speaking skills to play on their emotions and get them to attack once more.


The first thing Henry does is begin with "Once more unto the breach, dear friends", which puts them on his level.  He is saying that he is one of them, a soldier, not some ruler issuing commands.  He is calling his "buddies" to come with him, not commanding subjects to fight while he sits idly by, safe and sound (although that is exactly how it happens).  The entire speech is a Machiavellian manipulation of the soldier's emotions.


The second appeal is to their macho, manly side.  He compels his men to be as strong and ferocious as tigers.  He also tells them to "Stiffen up the sinews, summon up the blood" (an obvious reference to prove their masculinity).

Next he plays on their national and familial pride, saying "On, of you noblest English.  Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof."  He is basically telling his men to be patriotic and fight for their country as well as fighting to retain their family honor, saying that their fathers fought in wars past and are considered heroes, and if they do not continue the fight they will dishonor their family name.

Finally he makes a case that their cause is righteous and God is on their side, finishing with "...upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!"  This is actually a summation of all his emotional pleas, because he refers to himself as "Harry" rather than "King Henry V", which reinforces his insinuation that they are all soldiers together.  Next, he brings the patriotism back through his reference to England.  Finally, he invokes the name of Saint George, the patron saint of England.  He is basically saying "God is with us, so how can we lose?"

"Harry" was one heck of a motivational speaker.

And, if you're interested in seeing the darker side, continue reading a little more into the play and you will come upon Henry's speech to the governor of Harfleur, in which he is trying to get them to surrender.  He says that if they don't, his men will take the city and then kill all the old people, rape all the women, skewer all the babies on pikes, and burn the city to the ground.  Not quite Dr. Phil anymore...

S.M. Stirling - Dies the Fire

Stirling's first work in the Emberverse series is, in a word, captivating.  The premise is that a worldwide event knocked out electricity and most forms of high-energy technology (such as gunpowder, steam pressure, etc.).  This throws the world into utter chaos, with over 90% of humanity dying off in the next few months.

The book follows two different groups: Mike Havel, an ex-marine, leads a group called The Bearkillers, initially a family of five, but quickly expanding.  Juniper Mackenzie is a wiccan musician who leads another group of survivors who become known as Clan Mackenzie.  The two groups form an alliance against the evil (insert ominous super-villan laughter) Norman Arminger who rules the Portland Protective Association, a feudalistic organization formed of the dregs of society, particularly gang members and criminals.  The book chronicles the lives of these groups from immediately before The Change (as the physics-rending event is known) and their quest for survival.

This is, as I said, the first book in the series, and I absolutely loved it.  Personally, I like more action than song, and a few of the Clan Mackenzie portions were a little slow for my taste, but it only served to provide contrast to the more interesting parts.  Stirling has managed to create a post-apocalyptic world that seems lifelike and vivid without the stereotypes found in many other authors' attempts.  The main characters are excellently crafted, the story is enthralling (I lost several hours of sleep because I completely lost track of time), and the writing is superb.  There are a few points that seem repetitive, but they are few and easily forgiven in such an extraordinary work.

I look forward to reviewing the rest of this series.

9.5/10

Vijeo Gamez

While researching for a paper I had to write for my Shakespeare class I came upon a realization: nearly every single person on the planet who has gone through high school has strong feelings about Shakespeare.  Many love him, but most hate him.  Even more interesting is the fact that the great majority of those who hate his works have not read them, but simply SparkNotes'd (yes, I made that a verb.  What now, sucka!?!) their way through an English test.

Why does our generation have such strong feelings about things which we do not know?  And I'm the worst of us all.  For the longest time I refused to participate in activities simply because of what a friend of a friend said about them.  I just recently began playing some tabletop games (yeah, I'm that big of a nerd), and I absolutely love them.  It's nice to sit down with a few friends and play a game during which we have actual, meaningful conversation.  For so long I just played video games with my friends, and the depth of conversation was "Dude, you just got pwned!"

I have been an admitted social troglodyte, happily minding my own business and expecting the same.  I had no idea what I was missing.  I home-schooled for much of my life, and I still feel somewhat socially awkward at times (though I can fake it with the best of them).  However, once I made a conscious decision to step out of my comfort zone and reach out to people around me I find them not to be the strange individuals I had once thought, but kind, caring, enjoyable people.

This may sound Sunday School-ish, but I would encourage anyone who reads this to find someone you know but don't know, some acquaintance yet not-friend and be a friend to them.  You may hit a wall (like those who reached out to me for so long), but you may make a great new friend, with wonderful new opportunities.

Ok, I've waxed optimistic for long enough.

Latah.

Y

John Scalzi - Old Man's War

Another wonderful debut novel is John Scalzi's Old Man's War.  In this tale of intergalactic warfare, Mr. Scalzi goes beyond the normal Heinlein-esque cliches of most recent Sci-fi novels.  Not that I have anything aginst Robert Heinlein, because I love the great majority of his works (although The Cat Who Walks Through Walls leaves much to be desired), but apparently many sci-fi writers subscribe to the "if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing" mantra.  While Scalzi obviously got a great deal of inspiration from Heinlein, he goes above and beyond with the depth of his characters.  As beloved as Juan Rico is to me, John Perry has taken his throne.  While Rico was a great character who made the struggles of his life easily understandable, he was somewhat two-dimensional and unchanging, a trait not shared by Scalzi's protagonist.

The premise of Old Man's War is that, instead of recruiting armies from the young and inexperienced due to their physical prowess, a breakthrough technology that allows the transferring of one's consciousness into another body makes it possible to recruit the extremely old: just put them in new bodies.  These new bodies are cloned using their DNA, but are heavily modified to make them better warriors, such as increased strength and agility, more efficient blood (SmartBlood), etc.  The most important aspect is the BrainPal, a computer that is integrated directly into each recruit's brain, allowing them all sorts of abilities: storing information, communicating instantly among other BrainPal users, etc.  Basically, if you had an automated, intelligent Google in your head that actually answered your questions instead of giving you thinly-veiled porn links.

These new recruits go through boot camp and travel throughout the universe defending Earth's colonies from alien attack, as well as attacking hostile aliens and trying to take their colonies.  However, as the novel progresses, Perry's worldview (or universeview, I guess) begins to change as he confronts the reality they live in: everyone is constantly fighting everyone else, killing instead of finding diplomatic solutions.

I won't give away any more than I already have.  This is another book I highly recommend.  There are a few sequels that are also very good, especially The Last Colony.

9.5/10 - wonderful

Facebook Friends

Have you ever been on Facebook, looking at what's going on with your friends, when you come across some random person whom you have never met, yet is somehow your "friend"?  I only get on once a week or so, but nearly every time I do there is some complete stranger posting some inane crap about going to the store, or how no one understands her, or, my personal favorite, some obscure song lyrics.  "By posting these song lyrics I can show everyone how cultured I am, as well as letting them see how deep my innermost thoughts are, because I found a song that relates to my current situation."  Vomit.

Patrick Rothfuss - The Name of the Wind

Mr. Rothfuss's debut novel is, in a word, brilliant.  This book is one of the finest pieces of literature I have ever had the privilege to read.  I heard about it from Gabe at penny-arcade.com, and bought it mostly because I had few other prospects.  The fates had clearly conspired in my favor.

Mr. Rothfuss has set his story in a light-fantasy world.  This means that there are many fantasy elements (magic, dragons, etc.) but all the characters are humans; no orcs, trolls, goblins, dwarves, elves, etc.  This setting works very well for the epic scale of the story, but even if you don't care for fantasy works I highly suggest you give this one a try.  It is much about character development and interaction than rescuing princesses (even though the back cover begins, "I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings."

This book is a framed story, meaning it is a story within a story.  It begins in a small town, where we meet an innkeeper named Kote, who entertains a man named Chronicler, who was a scribe/historian who wants to record the history of a man named Kvothe, a well-known warrior, sympathist (read: wizard), and musician.  We quickly learn that the innkeeper is actually Kvothe, hiding from an unnamed enemy.  The true story of The Name of the Wind is the story Kvothe tells Chronicler about his childhood and teen years, and the adventures therein, from living on the streets of Tarbean to studying sympathy at the University to burning down the town of Trebon.

The true majesty of this book, however, is not in the story.  Don't get me wrong, it's a fine story.  It's got a likeable hero, a beautiful maiden, a dragon, and even a stuck-up pretty boy antagonist.  The true power, the beauty, the glory of this book is twofold: the characters and the imagery.

Rothfuss filled the work with wonderful characters, each unique yet familiar, as if he were describing your uncle, or that lady you saw at the grocery store, or your second-grade teacher.  The protagonist, Kvothe, is an extremely complex individual with Shakespearean depth.  Rothfuss manages to make us feel we know Kvothe like a brother, yet rarely says a descriptive word about him.  We simply see Kvothe live his life and love him, warts and all.

The other amazing element to this book is its beautiful imagery, which I am somewhat embarrassed to say moved me to tears several times (even on my 5th read through.  Yes, it's that good).  For instance, Kvothe is an extremely accomplished musician, and one section describes his attempt to make some money in a contest of sorts, but one of the strings on his lute is sabotaged and breaks just before the climax of the song.  However, he is able to continue on six strings instead of seven and finish it:

"It was not perfect.  No song as complex as 'Sir Savien' can be played perfectly on six strings instead of seven.  But it was whole, and as I played the audience sighed, stirred, and slowly fell back under the spell that I had made for them.

I hardly knew they were there, and after a minute I forgot them entirely.  My hands danced, then ran, then blurred across the strings as I fought to keep the lute's two voices singing with my own.  Then, even as I watched them, I forgot them.  I forgot everything except finishing the song.

...And then it was done.  Raising my head to look at the room was like breaking the surface of the water for air.  I came back into myself, found my hand bleeding and my body covered in sweat.  Then the ending of the song struck me like a fist in my chest, as it always does, no matter where or when I listen to it.

I buried my face in my hands and wept.  Not for a broken lute string and the chance of failure.  Not for blood shed and a wounded hand.  I did not even cry for the boy who had learned to play a lute with six strings in the forest years ago.  I cried for Sir Savien and Aloine, for love lost and found and lost again, at cruel fate and man's folly.  And so, for a while, I was lost in grief and knew nothing."

There is nothing more I can say to express my feelings for this book, full of passages such as this.

I can only come up with two minor shortcomings about The Name of the Wind.  First, it is a long book, spanning over 700 pages, but even this cannot be a negative thing when, by the time you finish, you wish it went for 700 more.  The other minor flaw is Kvothe's somewhat omniscience; the fact that he just happens to have some secret knowledge about nearly everything he comes into contact with.  This minor inconsistency can easily be forgiven, however, when taken together with the grandeur that is The Name of the Wind.


10/10 - exquisite!