Dear Readers,
This blog is moving to a new domain under a different name. From now on, you can find me at the following URL:
https://rostockgirl.wixsite.com/straightontilmorning
Thank you for your understanding.
Eat, Drink, Read, Listen
Sunday, 11 March 2018
Wednesday, 11 October 2017
Review: "My Little Pony - The Movie"
“I am so over the whole cute pony thing!”
exclaims the Storm King, the antagonist of the story.
Some parents in the audience might feel the
same way. But if there is one thing that sets Lauren Faust’s version of the My Little Pony franchise apart, it is
self-awareness. This movie knows exactly how cheesy it is, and goes ahead
anyway.
What the more cynical viewers might see as
cheesiness is, actually, a deliberate moral message. The full title of the
popular TV series, now in its seventh season, is My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. This means that the heroine,
Princess Twilight Sparkle, and her five best friends can always find a peaceful
solution to their problems, whether it’s a squabble between co-workers or an
unleashed god of chaos.
In this movie, the characters’ values of
trust, empathy and teamwork are put to the test like never before.
It begins when a flying warship crashes the
ponies’ national holiday, and its commander, Tempest, demands their
unconditional surrender.
“I’m sure we can talk this out,” says
Twilight.
Tempest responds by setting an army loose on
the city.
Having barely escaped, Twilight and her
friends embark on a dangerous mission to find the Hippogriffs, a distantly
related tribe they believe might help them. They quickly discover just how
dangerous the world is outside their happy homeland of Equestria. Asking for
help earns contempt, trusting a stranger leads them into a trap, and showing
off their skills to impress a potential ally only draws the enemy soldiers’
attention. If doing the right thing doesn’t work, doing the wrong thing might
be the only option.
“This isn’t Equestria,” an anxious Twilight
snaps. “You can’t expect everything to work out!”
The question this movie asks is, do the
ends justify the means? Is it all right to compromise your principles in order
to survive a national crisis? Or should you hold on to them more than ever?
The Mane Six are not the only ones with
ethical challenges to deal with. The Storm King, self-proclaimed
“super-powerful bad guy”, may be a disappointingly flat character, but the
effect he has on his subjects is surprisingly realistic for a children’s movie.
The various groups of characters the
heroines run into represent the ways people cope with living in a dictatorship.
Commander Tempest follows the Storm King to gain power and to channel a private
anger. A flock of pirate parrots turned cargo haulers obey in order to survive.
Still others, such as a charming feline con artist, are driven to crime by the
harshness of their lives.
Can a group of naïve young mares win the allegiance of creatures who gave up hope a long time ago?
In a time where each remake of a popular
movie seems to be darker than the last, My
Little Pony’s unashamed idealism makes for a refreshing change.
Tuesday, 7 March 2017
Review: "Uprooted" by Naomi Novik
Cover Summary:
“Our Dragon doesn’t eat the girls he takes, no matter what stories they tell outside our valley. We hear them sometimes, from travelers passing through. They talk as though we were doing human sacrifice, and he were a real dragon. Of course that’s not true: he may be a wizard and immortal, but he’s still a man, and our fathers would band together and kill him if he wanted to eat one of us every ten years. He protects us against the Wood, and we’re grateful, but not that grateful.”
Agnieszka loves her valley home, her quiet village, the forests and the bright shining river. But the corrupted Wood stands on the border, full of malevolent power, and its shadow lies over her life.
Her people rely on the cold, driven wizard known only as the Dragon to keep its powers at bay. But he demands a terrible price for his help: one young woman handed over to serve him for ten years, a fate almost as terrible as falling to the Wood.
The next choosing is fast approaching, and Agnieszka is afraid. She knows—everyone knows—that the Dragon will take Kasia: beautiful, graceful, brave Kasia, all the things Agnieszka isn’t, and her dearest friend in the world. And there is no way to save her.
But Agnieszka fears the wrong things. For when the Dragon comes, it is not Kasia he will choose.
Agnieszka loves her valley home, her quiet village, the forests and the bright shining river. But the corrupted Wood stands on the border, full of malevolent power, and its shadow lies over her life.
Her people rely on the cold, driven wizard known only as the Dragon to keep its powers at bay. But he demands a terrible price for his help: one young woman handed over to serve him for ten years, a fate almost as terrible as falling to the Wood.
The next choosing is fast approaching, and Agnieszka is afraid. She knows—everyone knows—that the Dragon will take Kasia: beautiful, graceful, brave Kasia, all the things Agnieszka isn’t, and her dearest friend in the world. And there is no way to save her.
But Agnieszka fears the wrong things. For when the Dragon comes, it is not Kasia he will choose.
On the Goodreads page for this novel, I saw
someone shouting in all caps about the implausibility of this story. The
reviewer appeared to think that, as long as the wizard calling himself “the
Dragon” doesn’t actually eat, rape, or torture the girls he takes, that makes everything
all right and Agniezhka, his newest servant, should have nothing to worry
about.
But I disagree. Being taken away from your
home for ten years, forbidden all contact with your loved ones, living alone
with a powerful, incomprehensible (and frankly quite rude) immortal, and
gradually losing your identity so that you cannot connect with your family
anymore when you do see them – that’s enough to frighten anyone. And it’s far from being the worst thing
that happens to Agniezhka.
Still, the Dragon is not a villain. It’s
more complicated than that. He is someone who’s been alone for so long,
concentrating on nothing but his magic, that he’s almost forgotten how to deal
with ordinary people. Especially an impulsive, messy young woman with power of
her own, whom he’s duty-bound to train whether he wants to or not.
Also, Agniezhka is no traditional fairytale
heroine. She may have the power to save the world, but she still can’t cook
without getting dirty, and she drives the Dragon crazy with her slapdash
approach to magic. (Think My Fair Lady meets
The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.) Her
peasant girl narration is pitch-perfect; by describing impossible things like
magic in terms she can understand, she makes them almost real enough to believe
in. For example, her only talent growing up was gathering useful things in the
forest, so that’s the analogy she uses for learning a new spell – unlike the
Dragon who, she says, always insists on using the road.
The arguments they have about each other’s
working methods are some of my favorite scenes in the book. Their partnership
challenges them both, intellectually as well as emotionally.
Another relationship I loved was
Agniezhka’s with Kasia, the classic heroine everyone thought would be chosen
instead. They should (and do) envy each other’s very different fates, but not
for a moment do they let it ruin their friendship. Kasia, too, breaks free of
the villagers’ (and the reader’s) expectations, becoming just as strong in her
own way as Agniezhka in another.
Considering the title, it’s fitting that
roots are so important to this story. Agniezhka’s strength comes from her
heritage: her family, her best friend, and the land she lives on. The Dragon, a
solitary man, has no roots. He spends his life holding back the forest because
he is afraid it will overrun the world. He has a point – this is not a Disney
forest – but the best way to handle these monsters is with compassion and an
open mind.
By the way, this is one of only a few
stories I’ve seen where reading aloud saves the world. I’m surprised there
aren’t more.
Surely we bookworms must have known this
all along. ;)
Tuesday, 28 February 2017
Review: Oh Yeah, Audrey!
Oh
Yeah, Audrey! by Tucker Shaw has wild nightclubs,
fabulous haute couture, sex, satire and betrayal. It’s also a classic morality
tale. Not many 21st-century writers can get away with that, but Shaw
does – maybe because he knows exactly how strong the temptations are that he’s
warning you to avoid.
Gemma Beasley, the narrator, is unhappy.
Her mother has died, her father is overprotective, she has no friends at
school, and like many teenage girls, she hates the way she looks. Her Audrey
Hepburn blog is her only escape. That’s why she and her four fellow bloggers
have planned a Breakfast at Tiffany’s-themed
tour of New York, starting with a literal breakfast in front of the iconic
jewelry store. And when five misfit teenagers from very different backgrounds
run around the city unsupervised, there’s bound to be trouble.
The moral of the story, obviously, is that
Gemma needs to stop pretending to be Hepburn and be herself instead. That being
said, if you were a 16-year-old girl and a charming millionaire’s son bought
you a gown from Hepburn’s private collection, could you say no? Honestly?
For a male author, Shaw is brilliant at
describing the way a teenage girl feels about a glamorous female role model:
despair that you’ll never live up to her, wistful hope that someday you might.
If you only had the right dress, the right boyfriend, the right mannerisms – as
if that had anything to do with real self-confidence.
As for the often repeated Tiffany’s quote about rich men giving Holly Golightly 50 dollars to go the powder room, it gathers unexpected force as the story goes on. No spoilers, but Gemma experiences the lowest points of Holly’s lifestyle as well as the highest.
By the way, if you don’t appreciate
Hepburn, the amount of trivia will probably put you off. But if you understand
what it’s like to be passionate about something, no matter how strange, you
might forgive Gemma for squealing at the sight of a vintage gown.
It may not be realistic to have two
gorgeous rich boys joining Gemma’s tour, even if one of them is gay. But realism
isn’t the point. The point is to test Gemma’s integrity as far as it can go.
The fact that all these party and restaurant scenes are dazzling to read about
is just a bonus.
Special mention goes to Telly, the only
Internet troll I’ve ever heard of who is also a well-rounded, likeable
character. From the moment she interrupts Gemma’s and her friends’ raptures
about Givenchy to talk about Hepburn’s work with UNICEF, I knew this book
wasn’t going to be as shallow as it sounded.
Tuesday, 31 January 2017
Review: The Never-Ending Sacrifice (Star Trek: DS9)
A boy looks up. He sees a Cardassian's hand on his shoulder and knows that this is usually a prelude to a beating or, if he is fortunate enough, arrest. The boy knows how many disappeared during the Occupation of Bajor. So he does the one thing he can think of: he bites the Cardassian. Then the nightmare begins.
He is ripped from the family that took him in as an orphan, clothed him, fed him, always loved him unconditionally. And no matter how earnest, how caring the commander of Deep Space 9 is, the boy knows this is all a horrible mistake. How can someone from Starfleet judge him by what he looks like, not by what he is? He prays to the Prophets; he is Bajoran. They all keep telling him that the test proves the large Cardassian man is his father, that the other Cardassian -- that oily gul -- took him away from his father. But the boy keeps telling them that he is Bajoran, he only wants to go home with his father. So they send Rugal home -- to Cardassia.
On the homeworld of the Cardassian Union where sacrifice and devotion to the state are surpassed only by the government's need to keep its people in check, one very lonely boy discovers that if he doesn't resist, his life -- like those of so many others -- will be added to the tally of the never-ending sacrifice.
He is ripped from the family that took him in as an orphan, clothed him, fed him, always loved him unconditionally. And no matter how earnest, how caring the commander of Deep Space 9 is, the boy knows this is all a horrible mistake. How can someone from Starfleet judge him by what he looks like, not by what he is? He prays to the Prophets; he is Bajoran. They all keep telling him that the test proves the large Cardassian man is his father, that the other Cardassian -- that oily gul -- took him away from his father. But the boy keeps telling them that he is Bajoran, he only wants to go home with his father. So they send Rugal home -- to Cardassia.
On the homeworld of the Cardassian Union where sacrifice and devotion to the state are surpassed only by the government's need to keep its people in check, one very lonely boy discovers that if he doesn't resist, his life -- like those of so many others -- will be added to the tally of the never-ending sacrifice.
Star
Trek: Deep Space Nine has one of the most
complicated storylines of any TV series I know. It ran for seven seasons and
involved, more or less, seven different political entities, with alliances that
were constantly shifting back and forth. Today’s enemy might be tomorrow’s ally,
or vice versa. It’s realistic, as any history student will tell you, but also
somewhat confusing.
That’s why The
Never-Ending Sacrifice by Una McCormack is very helpful for putting all
seven seasons in perspective.If you don’t know the series, you might not
understand everything that’s going on, but there’s a glossary at the back of
the book. Besides, the protagonist doesn’t understand it all either.
Rugal Pa’Dar is a one-off character from an
episode called “Cardassians” in the second season of DS9. He was adopted by Bajorans, whose planet was once invaded by his own
species, the Cardassians.
Then his biological father found him and took him back.
Needless to say, he’s
got identity issues. He doesn’t fully belong to either culture. This makes him
the perfect character through whom to tell the story of the Dominion War,
because the war is being fought inside him as well as across the galaxy. This
inner conflict almost tears him apart, but as he grows up, it also helps him
make connections across all kinds of borders: class, species, sexuality and
politics, to name a few.
Rugal is not much like the usual Star Trek heroes, brilliant diplomats,
scientists and warriors who always save the day. He’s an ordinary person caught
up in extraordinary circumstances, who mostly gets by on luck, resourcefulness,
and a deep loyalty to his loved ones. He’s not trying to end the war or save
his species. He just wants to go home, if he could only figure out where home
is.
McCormack does an excellent job of balancing the large and complicated plot lines of the original series with Rugal's individual story. He is clearly a product of a certain political landscape, but not a passive one. The older he gets, the more he refuses to let parents, commanding officers and governments make his choices for him.
The
Never-Ending Sacrifice is still a quintessential Star Trek story. It’s a story about war,
and it does get very dark at times (Rugal’s time in the army is bleakly
reminiscent of All Quiet On The Western
Front), but more than that, it’s a story about love that transcends
boundaries.
Saturday, 21 January 2017
Review: Tin Star & Stone In The Sky
Cover Summary:
When three humans crash land onto the station, Tula's desire for escape becomes irresistible, and her desire for companionship becomes unavoidable. But just as Tula begins to concoct a plan to get off the space station and kill Brother Blue, everything goes awry, and suddenly romance is the farthest thing from her mind.
Warning:
spoilers.
If you’re wondering what Firefly would be like with aliens, or Rogue One with a somewhat lower death
toll, this duology is for you.
It subverts several important tropes that
science fiction writers have come to rely on. Firstly, there is an
interplanetary government, but humans are not the glue holding it together.
They’re one unimportant species among many. The language spoken between
different species, Universal Galactic, is clearly not English and Tula Bane has
real trouble understanding it until someone equips her with translation
technology.
Since humanity isn’t the standard, this
leads to some wonderful world building on the author’s part, sometimes by what
she doesn’t write, as much as what she does write. Casually referring to a
character as a “biped” implies volumes about the different kinds of alien
bodies on that space station (Stone,
p. 29). When one of them stabs Tula with the sting in his tongue, she assumes
it’s poison, but it turns out to be something quite different (Star, p. 33).
Secondly, the aliens are not stereotyped.
Each species has its own distinct culture and biology, but the characters are
still individuals: for example, the Hort are cunning, ruthless, and offended by
the sound of human voices, but one of them becomes Tula’s mentor. The Loor are
formal and hierarchical, but one of them bends the rules to help Tula while
another of them is corrupted by power. Humans themselves are stereotyped by the
other species as primitive nomads, but all Tula wants is a home of her own.
Speaking of stereotypes, I was a little
disappointed that in Tin Star, the
only female character besides Tula was a caricature straight out of the movie Mean Girls. Why do we still assume that
women who wear lots of makeup and tight clothes are always selfish, promiscuous
or both? However, the author fixed that issue quite thoroughly in Stone in the Sky. Hendala, Ednette,
Elizabeth and Myfanwy are all strong, complex female characters, and even mean
girl Els is shown in a different light.
Thirdly, Tula herself is not the average
heroine. She’s strong and vulnerable in interesting ways. On the one hand,
she’s a consummate survivor: beaten and left for dead, the only one of her
species, with no money, no possessions, and a shaky grasp on the language, she
still talks herself out of trouble. She has excellent social and business
skills: she can mimic alien body language, keep track of a complicated network
of trades, bend the truth, and even kiss someone she dislikes if it gives her
an advantage.
But while she’s an expert at connecting to
people on a surface level, deeper connections are a problem for her. When it
comes to romance and friendship, she’s as confused as any other teenage girl;
arguably more so, since she has no human mentor to ask for advice. Her
strongest relationship is with her enemy, Brother Blue, and that trips her up
as well; it takes her a long time to learn that hate should not be the reason
you get up in the morning. These flaws make her more relatable, as well as
driving the plot forward; most of her actions are fueled either by revenge or
loneliness.
The only weak point in the series for me
was Tula’s relationship with Tournour. All the hard work seems to be on his
side: he saves her life many times, walks a delicate tightrope between loyalty
to her and his duty as Chief Constable, watches her fall in love with another
man, helps them be together, and makes considerable efforts to understand how
her alien mind works. What does she do for him in return except cause trouble? That
being said, I liked the subtle ways he finds to show her he’s on her side, even
when he’s locking her in the brig or frisking her for weapons.
The two of them remind me of Constable Odo
and Major Kira from Star Trek: Deep Space
Nine.
Although it’s the Andorians who have
antennae …
Okay, someone stop me, before I start
making Trek references all through
the night.
Needless to say, Tin Star and Stone in the Sky
are highly recommended for all science fiction fans.
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