Welcome back lovers and faithful bloggers. I apologize for the extended reprieve we recently took, but with college coming to a close and job searching in full swing, it has been difficult to get online and tell you about all the wonderful things we have been reading here at Whiskey Before Breakfast. To save you from any further excuses or apologies we may have let's just dive in to the review you all have been on the edge of your seats for.
Teen fiction is a genre of books that I find myself enamored with more than any other genre. I wouldn't go as far as to say it's a "guilty pleasure" of mine, but just a fascination. Yet, as I dig deeper and deeper into this genre, I'm beginning to discover there is more breadth than depth in both content and topics, more substance than sustenance. In an age where teen books seem to thrive on pathetically written series and one word titles such as "Desire", "Crossed", "Blamed", or "Twilight", it really is like finding a diamond in the rough when one actually captivates you. The diamond I recently discovered was John Green's Looking for Alaska.
Before giving you my review I want to briefly paint you a picture of Green and I's relationship. No, I've never met the man, but my first impressions of him formed from merely seeing his name in the Teen Fiction aisle of my local book store. Since I am one to hold The Perks of Being a Wallflower as one of the few groundbreaking, life-changing novels of this generation, I am always quick to dismiss anything or anyone that attempts to come close to it. When I saw that Green had four books already published and a couple of awards under his belt, my first thought was, "fraud". Of course, I had absolutely no evidence to support such a claim, but I thoroughly convinced myself in those four seconds that this man was not a writer, but merely taking advantage of the wave of teen fiction novels that seem to have flooded our shelves. I was also convinced that this man was probably friends with Stephenie Myers. Two months later, I purchased his work Looking for Alaska more out of the inclination to prove a point than to actually read something worthwhile. I was very wrong.
Looking for Alaska is a raw novel about a boy named Miles "Pudge" Halter who enrolls in the Culver Creek Preparatory High School in Alabama after leaving his public school in Florida. He is a tall, lanky glass of water with an overwhelming fascination for famous last words. It is through this "hobby" that he stumbled upon Francois Rabelais's last words -- "I go to seek a Great Perhaps" -- and considers this transfer his time for seeking. At Culver, Pudge meets an estranged and cigarette addicted cast of characters who become his closest and best friends. More importantly, he meets Alaska Young. If there was one thing that I took away from Alaska, aside from her self-destructive ways and unpredictable mood swings, was this: curves. Green's understanding of language and craft pleasantly surprised me and I soon found myself captivated and enthralled by the story that unfolded. The work follows Pudge and his friends as they battle and prank both the Weekday Warriors (the rich students that leave on weekends to be with their rich families) as well as the Eagle (the Dean of Students). Through all of this, Pudge confronts something more than love or friendship or loyalty, but comes face to face with the question of: "What is the labyrinth?". It is a question that Alaska poses to Pudge when discussing their favorite books/last words and is a running theme throughout the work (and one all the kids struggle to answer). Three days after I had the book in my hands I finished it.
Some critics and reviews have mentioned this work in the spirit of Holden Caulfield from Catcher in the Rye and I have to forcefully disagree. I saw no similarities between the two aside from some deviant behavior and a fair amount of swearing. Pudge is far more innocent and retrospective than Holden. In all honesty, he compares more to Charlie from Perks than Holden. But, I can agree on the fact that this book rivals that of most revered teen fiction novels this day an age and should be read if nothing more than to suck a little more marrow out of the bones of life. This novel doesn't surround itself with themes of forbidden love or werewolves or zombies, but begs the question of "what is the labyrinth" and asks the reader to do the same.
-- Zach
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
The Life of Pi
As school continues to slowly progress through its monotony like a river filled with molasses, I found time to ponder the human existence. It was an experience that started back in January (or was it December? I can't remember) and has led me on a fruitful journey up until this past week. Of course, such an experience could only come from a book, for I know of no other medium that could examine such an issue so in depthly and prolifically. That book is Yann Martel's, The Life of Pi.
First off, I know that Hollywood has stolen this great work and has attempted to string some lights and flashy special effects to it in hopes of making it more appealing. To that, my literary heart breaks because the novel itself is far more appealing and beautiful than anything Hollywood can shop together in their studios. This may just be the purest in me (actually, it is), but The Life of Pi is a stunning work that gently draws the reader into a young boy's life and then refuses to release its grasp until the very end.
At its essence, the story is about the life of Piscine Molitor Patel, an Indian boy from Pondicherry where his father owns a zoo. When his family decides to move to Canada, they set out on a voyage that ends in a horrific and unexplained sinking of the ship, leaving Pi stranded on a lifeboat with only one other companion: a full grown Bengal Tiger. From the opening pages of the novel, the reader gets a sense that Pi is a boy who's thoughts consume him more than anything else. He often makes deep spiritual connections with the zoo animals his father has and the world and ideologies around him. It must be stated now because it's practically unavoidable, but this novel will force you to think (and to think critically at that). At one of the more amusing parts of the novel, Pi becomes a Christian, Hindu, and Muslim all at the same time due to his curiosity of each religion. He doesn't understand the contradiction that these three pose to each other, but rather, views them as all parts of a unified God.
If anything, this work is intending to explore the existence of God and the multifarious religions and worldviews that saturate this world. Pi attempts to synthesize these parts into something he can understand which is what makes the novel so fascinating. He isn't a boy searching for one Utopian religion or something to unify the world, but just trying to figure out his own life.
It's interesting that I chose two works to read that so closely compliment, yet contradict, each other. I'm of course referring to Hemingway's Old Man and the Sea, where the novella seems to be a very nihilistic and naturalistic look at life. The Old Man who plays the protagonist in Hemingway's work, views the events occurring around him as "just happening", because the universe is indifferent to man and on the whole, cares not for his existence. As for Pi and his boat, there is a reason and harmony to why he is in his situation. He looks for a God and tries to understand Him. It's a journey that reflects our own lives so clearly that the reader can't help but see a small part of him in Pi.
There is far more to the work than just spirituality if that's what the reader's tentative of. Though the philosophy is one that is filled with spiritual notions, there are plenty of other characters and moments that examine other outlooks on life. There is something in this novel for everyone from the apathetic Christian to the devout Atheist, and is still worth investing in.
-- Zach
First off, I know that Hollywood has stolen this great work and has attempted to string some lights and flashy special effects to it in hopes of making it more appealing. To that, my literary heart breaks because the novel itself is far more appealing and beautiful than anything Hollywood can shop together in their studios. This may just be the purest in me (actually, it is), but The Life of Pi is a stunning work that gently draws the reader into a young boy's life and then refuses to release its grasp until the very end.
At its essence, the story is about the life of Piscine Molitor Patel, an Indian boy from Pondicherry where his father owns a zoo. When his family decides to move to Canada, they set out on a voyage that ends in a horrific and unexplained sinking of the ship, leaving Pi stranded on a lifeboat with only one other companion: a full grown Bengal Tiger. From the opening pages of the novel, the reader gets a sense that Pi is a boy who's thoughts consume him more than anything else. He often makes deep spiritual connections with the zoo animals his father has and the world and ideologies around him. It must be stated now because it's practically unavoidable, but this novel will force you to think (and to think critically at that). At one of the more amusing parts of the novel, Pi becomes a Christian, Hindu, and Muslim all at the same time due to his curiosity of each religion. He doesn't understand the contradiction that these three pose to each other, but rather, views them as all parts of a unified God.
If anything, this work is intending to explore the existence of God and the multifarious religions and worldviews that saturate this world. Pi attempts to synthesize these parts into something he can understand which is what makes the novel so fascinating. He isn't a boy searching for one Utopian religion or something to unify the world, but just trying to figure out his own life.
It's interesting that I chose two works to read that so closely compliment, yet contradict, each other. I'm of course referring to Hemingway's Old Man and the Sea, where the novella seems to be a very nihilistic and naturalistic look at life. The Old Man who plays the protagonist in Hemingway's work, views the events occurring around him as "just happening", because the universe is indifferent to man and on the whole, cares not for his existence. As for Pi and his boat, there is a reason and harmony to why he is in his situation. He looks for a God and tries to understand Him. It's a journey that reflects our own lives so clearly that the reader can't help but see a small part of him in Pi.
There is far more to the work than just spirituality if that's what the reader's tentative of. Though the philosophy is one that is filled with spiritual notions, there are plenty of other characters and moments that examine other outlooks on life. There is something in this novel for everyone from the apathetic Christian to the devout Atheist, and is still worth investing in.
-- Zach
Monday, February 4, 2013
The Yellow Wallpaper
Avid readers and faithful fans, I would like to welcome you all back to another episode of Whiskey Before Breakfast. I do apologize for the delay, but with the start of a new semester many events and outings have been brought to the table thus, sucking away any time to write for this blog. Luckily I am taking an American Literature class so if my laziness proves to be a hindrance on my outside reading, then at least this class will force me to have some content. I would like to thank you all again for being such great fans and lovers of books for without you, Spence and I are nothing more than semi-established authors.
Since I mentioned American Literature in the previous paragraph I find it somewhat fitting to review a story from that class. This short story is fresh in my mind and still haunts me in the late hours of the night. American author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman published The Yellow Wallpaper in 1892 and ever since, set the feminist discussion into motion. Now, before you disregard this work as propaganda for women's rights, let me say that this story is chilling. It revolves around a compilation of journal entries written by an unknown woman who is locked away in her bedroom due to a severe nervous depression or "hysteria". The woman's husband, along with her physician, believe that the lack of interactions with people and the absence of intellectual stimulation will eventually cure her. Of course, they are unaware of her journal writings. As the story progresses the reader begins to see the slow dip into insanity that this woman is taking as her entries become more fantastical and all the more horrifying.
If Poe had a female voice this would be it. If Stephen King was born at the turn of the century this would be his story. I say this because there are many elements of the psycho-deterioration of one's mind where Poe and King find the most horrific stories to thrive. I found myself remembering Poe's The Tell-Tale Heart and kept expecting this woman to hear heart beats and begin tearing up floor boards. In fact, there are some instances of her insanity manifesting themselves in the room and around the house. Throughout the story the woman refers to the wallpaper around her room to be disgusting and oblique. This drives her up the wall (pun intended) to the point where she spends hours a day just staring at the paper, trying to understand its pattern. Again, as her sanity begins to fade, she starts to believe that a woman lives behind the wallpaper and at night she wanders around the room in the moonlight.
The ending to the story is as eerie as you would expect. Yet, at the same time, there is a fairly strong feminist message in all of this, as I mentioned earlier. At the time, physicians and experts hadn't fully understood postpartum depression so they believed that women who suffered from it shouldn't be allowed to stimulate their intellect or any part of their brain for that matter. That, of course, escalated the situation and Gilman attempts to expose that truth by alluding to her own struggles with depression in this story. By rebelling and writing in a journal, the woman in The Yellow Wallpaper is attempting to save the little sanity that she has left.
Reading classic American Literature will never hurt anyone and to be honest, it has far more substance that most of the trash that makes it to the shelves these days (I'm looking at you Hunger Games). Educate yourself and pick up The Yellow Wallpaper today.
-- Zach
Since I mentioned American Literature in the previous paragraph I find it somewhat fitting to review a story from that class. This short story is fresh in my mind and still haunts me in the late hours of the night. American author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman published The Yellow Wallpaper in 1892 and ever since, set the feminist discussion into motion. Now, before you disregard this work as propaganda for women's rights, let me say that this story is chilling. It revolves around a compilation of journal entries written by an unknown woman who is locked away in her bedroom due to a severe nervous depression or "hysteria". The woman's husband, along with her physician, believe that the lack of interactions with people and the absence of intellectual stimulation will eventually cure her. Of course, they are unaware of her journal writings. As the story progresses the reader begins to see the slow dip into insanity that this woman is taking as her entries become more fantastical and all the more horrifying.
If Poe had a female voice this would be it. If Stephen King was born at the turn of the century this would be his story. I say this because there are many elements of the psycho-deterioration of one's mind where Poe and King find the most horrific stories to thrive. I found myself remembering Poe's The Tell-Tale Heart and kept expecting this woman to hear heart beats and begin tearing up floor boards. In fact, there are some instances of her insanity manifesting themselves in the room and around the house. Throughout the story the woman refers to the wallpaper around her room to be disgusting and oblique. This drives her up the wall (pun intended) to the point where she spends hours a day just staring at the paper, trying to understand its pattern. Again, as her sanity begins to fade, she starts to believe that a woman lives behind the wallpaper and at night she wanders around the room in the moonlight.
The ending to the story is as eerie as you would expect. Yet, at the same time, there is a fairly strong feminist message in all of this, as I mentioned earlier. At the time, physicians and experts hadn't fully understood postpartum depression so they believed that women who suffered from it shouldn't be allowed to stimulate their intellect or any part of their brain for that matter. That, of course, escalated the situation and Gilman attempts to expose that truth by alluding to her own struggles with depression in this story. By rebelling and writing in a journal, the woman in The Yellow Wallpaper is attempting to save the little sanity that she has left.
Reading classic American Literature will never hurt anyone and to be honest, it has far more substance that most of the trash that makes it to the shelves these days (I'm looking at you Hunger Games). Educate yourself and pick up The Yellow Wallpaper today.
-- Zach
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Hello friends and lovers,
It's 2013, and the world is still here. I hope your New Year's resolutions include a great reading list. As always, if you want to recommend books to us, or if you want recommendations for books from us, don't be shy. After all, Whiskey Before Breakfast is dangerous by yourself, but it's a lot of fun with friends.
Jonathan Safran Foer wrote Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close in 2005. You may have heard of this novel, or the film based on the novel, which was released in 2011. I have not seen it, but I have watched the trailer on YouTube. You should, too: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_quK9SEGYE.
Extremely Loud follows nine year-old Oskar Schell as he struggles to understand the world after his father dies in the World Trade Center during the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. Oskar feels a sense of personal responsibility for the death of his father. He works through his feelings of guilt, anger, and sadness as he searches New York City to find the owner of a key that he discovers in his father's closet. As he meets and interacts with various strangers, he learns more about his father, as well as himself.
The narrative is primarily told through the young but brilliant Oskar, in his distinctive stream-of-consciousness style. His imaginative narration is woven together with several of his own notes and photographs, as well as a series of letters written by his grandparents. They tell their own life stories, filled with sadness, pain and loss, as well as profound advice for living and loving.
Side note: Oskar's grandparents write extensively about the World War II bombing of Dresden, Germany--an event which they both survived. You may be familiar with the Dresden bombing, particularly if you have read Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. Foer draws a fascinating parallel between the senseless destruction of Dresden and the tragedy of September 11th. Oskar's close relationship with his grandmother becomes more powerful and meaningful as you begin to understand their shared pain and similar circumstances. End note.
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close may be the most emotional novel I've ever read. There are long chapters of heart-wrenching despair and grief, yet the narrative is punctuated with stunningly beautiful moments of triumph and love. Because Oskar is so young, his feelings have a certain undiluted potency; he describes everything as "extremely" this or "incredibly" that (hence the title). Oskar is so fascinating because he speaks and thinks with a sense of clarity and rationality far beyond his years, but he feels emotion with the raw intensity of a child. He's painfully real, too.
The novel itself is fairly long (300+ pages) and somewhat daunting. This book is not written in a clean, linear format. It tends to be run-on, jumbled, and even chaotic. But that's the beauty of it! Emotions are messy! The human experience is extremely cruel and incredibly painful. Oskar desperately wants to rationalize the horrific tragedy that took his father's life, but he slowly learns the fundamental truth: we do not enjoy life because we understand it; we enjoy life precisely because we don't understand it. Each moment is too precious to be spent in bitterness or selfishness.
As Achilles (Brad Pitt) famously said in Troy: "The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."
You really should read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. I hope I've convinced you, at least a little bit. Oskar is one of the most emotionally honest protagonists I've ever encountered. This novel will remind you of what it is to be a child, and that essentially each one of us is a child, looking for his or her reflection in a mud puddle.
--Spence
P.S. This novel has an extraordinarily well-developed sense of place. A true New Yorker might appreciate this story a little more than the rest of us. Oskar's sadness is compounded by the fact that his father died in the city he loved.
It's 2013, and the world is still here. I hope your New Year's resolutions include a great reading list. As always, if you want to recommend books to us, or if you want recommendations for books from us, don't be shy. After all, Whiskey Before Breakfast is dangerous by yourself, but it's a lot of fun with friends.
Jonathan Safran Foer wrote Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close in 2005. You may have heard of this novel, or the film based on the novel, which was released in 2011. I have not seen it, but I have watched the trailer on YouTube. You should, too: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_quK9SEGYE.
Extremely Loud follows nine year-old Oskar Schell as he struggles to understand the world after his father dies in the World Trade Center during the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. Oskar feels a sense of personal responsibility for the death of his father. He works through his feelings of guilt, anger, and sadness as he searches New York City to find the owner of a key that he discovers in his father's closet. As he meets and interacts with various strangers, he learns more about his father, as well as himself.
The narrative is primarily told through the young but brilliant Oskar, in his distinctive stream-of-consciousness style. His imaginative narration is woven together with several of his own notes and photographs, as well as a series of letters written by his grandparents. They tell their own life stories, filled with sadness, pain and loss, as well as profound advice for living and loving.
Side note: Oskar's grandparents write extensively about the World War II bombing of Dresden, Germany--an event which they both survived. You may be familiar with the Dresden bombing, particularly if you have read Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. Foer draws a fascinating parallel between the senseless destruction of Dresden and the tragedy of September 11th. Oskar's close relationship with his grandmother becomes more powerful and meaningful as you begin to understand their shared pain and similar circumstances. End note.
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close may be the most emotional novel I've ever read. There are long chapters of heart-wrenching despair and grief, yet the narrative is punctuated with stunningly beautiful moments of triumph and love. Because Oskar is so young, his feelings have a certain undiluted potency; he describes everything as "extremely" this or "incredibly" that (hence the title). Oskar is so fascinating because he speaks and thinks with a sense of clarity and rationality far beyond his years, but he feels emotion with the raw intensity of a child. He's painfully real, too.
The novel itself is fairly long (300+ pages) and somewhat daunting. This book is not written in a clean, linear format. It tends to be run-on, jumbled, and even chaotic. But that's the beauty of it! Emotions are messy! The human experience is extremely cruel and incredibly painful. Oskar desperately wants to rationalize the horrific tragedy that took his father's life, but he slowly learns the fundamental truth: we do not enjoy life because we understand it; we enjoy life precisely because we don't understand it. Each moment is too precious to be spent in bitterness or selfishness.
As Achilles (Brad Pitt) famously said in Troy: "The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."
You really should read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. I hope I've convinced you, at least a little bit. Oskar is one of the most emotionally honest protagonists I've ever encountered. This novel will remind you of what it is to be a child, and that essentially each one of us is a child, looking for his or her reflection in a mud puddle.
--Spence
P.S. This novel has an extraordinarily well-developed sense of place. A true New Yorker might appreciate this story a little more than the rest of us. Oskar's sadness is compounded by the fact that his father died in the city he loved.
Friday, December 28, 2012
The Old Man and the Sea
Hello avid followers of Whiskey Before Breakfast and other book lovers. It's so great to see you all back here again. I hope the holidays brought you all joy, laughter, and an excessive amount of eggnog and Christmas songs. Upon returning home from a draining semester at school I proceeded to pound my life back into something more recognizable and immediately devoured as many books as I could get my hands on. One of these was Ernest Hemingway's Pulitzer Prize winning novella, The Old Man and the Sea.
Because I was feeling somewhat pretentious (and lacking in my classics genre compared to Spence), I decided to begin a six hour endeavor on this work. In the end, I can truly say, I was very much rewarded. Let me be forthright, this is and was the first Hemingway book I had ever read. So, much like a babe in the woods, I had no idea what I was getting myself in to.
The Old Man and the Sea is a methodical and very much existential work that involves a strong-willed fisherman and an equally stubborn marlin. The two battle each other over the course of three days, testing both the endurance and will of the other. That's it. If one is looking for a book that includes pages upon pages of action, fighting, and suspense, then they will be sorely disappointed. Heck, if one is even looking for a book that includes chapters then I would suggest they keep moving. This work spends much of its time exploring the thoughts and actions of a fisherman and flows from beginning to end much like the sea itself.
Hemingway wastes no time in piercing the heart of the matter in his work. Throughout the novella, the fisherman refers to the marlin as his "brother" and elicits a profound and emotional connection with the fish. He even questions the fact of whether he should be killing such a nobel creature since the two are so intertwined in their professions. That's another thing Hemingway extracts from his story: the concept of destiny. The fisherman accepts his art and profession as something he was born to do and decides that the marlin had no choice in the matter either.
It often reminded me of the scene in Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men, where Chigurh, the villain, demands that a gas station owner call a coin flip. He states that the coin had been traveling all these years in order to reach this one point and that the owner must call it. He has no other reason than that of destiny. In the same way, the fisherman and the marlin were connected like that of the coin and the gas station owner. The gods had spoken.
There are so many things that I loved about this novella that I'm finding it difficult to wrap it up in only 700 words. Yet, I'll leave you with one last thing to note. Hemingway beautifully portrays the mental battle raging in the fisherman's head. Often times I would read the fisherman's thoughts and then the next line discover his dialogue stating the exact opposite. I think this is very essential to a powerful book because humans themselves are not linear thinkers. We often times contradict ourselves on a daily basis, whether it be for better or worse. With that, I highly recommend this short, but compelling read.
"Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon, he thought. The moon runs away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born lucky, he thought."
-- Zach
Because I was feeling somewhat pretentious (and lacking in my classics genre compared to Spence), I decided to begin a six hour endeavor on this work. In the end, I can truly say, I was very much rewarded. Let me be forthright, this is and was the first Hemingway book I had ever read. So, much like a babe in the woods, I had no idea what I was getting myself in to.
The Old Man and the Sea is a methodical and very much existential work that involves a strong-willed fisherman and an equally stubborn marlin. The two battle each other over the course of three days, testing both the endurance and will of the other. That's it. If one is looking for a book that includes pages upon pages of action, fighting, and suspense, then they will be sorely disappointed. Heck, if one is even looking for a book that includes chapters then I would suggest they keep moving. This work spends much of its time exploring the thoughts and actions of a fisherman and flows from beginning to end much like the sea itself.
Hemingway wastes no time in piercing the heart of the matter in his work. Throughout the novella, the fisherman refers to the marlin as his "brother" and elicits a profound and emotional connection with the fish. He even questions the fact of whether he should be killing such a nobel creature since the two are so intertwined in their professions. That's another thing Hemingway extracts from his story: the concept of destiny. The fisherman accepts his art and profession as something he was born to do and decides that the marlin had no choice in the matter either.
It often reminded me of the scene in Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men, where Chigurh, the villain, demands that a gas station owner call a coin flip. He states that the coin had been traveling all these years in order to reach this one point and that the owner must call it. He has no other reason than that of destiny. In the same way, the fisherman and the marlin were connected like that of the coin and the gas station owner. The gods had spoken.
There are so many things that I loved about this novella that I'm finding it difficult to wrap it up in only 700 words. Yet, I'll leave you with one last thing to note. Hemingway beautifully portrays the mental battle raging in the fisherman's head. Often times I would read the fisherman's thoughts and then the next line discover his dialogue stating the exact opposite. I think this is very essential to a powerful book because humans themselves are not linear thinkers. We often times contradict ourselves on a daily basis, whether it be for better or worse. With that, I highly recommend this short, but compelling read.
"Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon, he thought. The moon runs away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born lucky, he thought."
-- Zach
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
The Long Walk
Hello beautiful people,
Okay, we're back. Here at Whiskey Before Breakfast, Zach and I took a brief hiatus from our weekly postings to acknowledge our final exams. Thank you for your patience. And your thunderous applause.
When Stephen King was a freshman at the University of Maine in 1966-67, he wrote his first novella, entitled The Long Walk. He published this story in 1979 under the pseudonym Richard Bachman (among several other stories, called the "Bachman Books").
The Long Walk takes place in the not-too-distant future (for all you dystopian lovers). The U.S. is now a totalitarian police state, and each year on May 1st, the government randomly selects one hundred teenage boys to participate in The Long Walk. The rules are simple: you must stay on the road and maintain a constant speed of four miles per hour. If you fall below that speed for thirty seconds, you receive a warning. If you exceed three warnings, you will be shot (the characters call it "getting your ticket"). The last man standing receives The Prize: anything and everything he wants for the rest of his life.
The narrative is told through the eyes of sixteen year-old Ray Garraty, Contestant Number 47. We know little of Ray's past except that his father was taken away (and presumably killed) by the government, and that he was raised by his mother. He has a girlfriend named Jan, about whom he daydreams and fantasizes. Ray does not know why he is a part of The Long Walk; he just knows that he didn't back out when he had the chance. With each step, he becomes more unsure of his sense of place and purpose.
I hardly know where to begin with this story. This isn't a thriller about clowns or monsters or Mockingjays. The Long Walk is raw and gritty and in-your-face from start to finish. We watch Ray's optimism in the beginning of the story spiral downward into the torturous, hellish experience of the final chapters. Stephen King brilliantly captures the Walkers' excruciating physical pain as well as their deep spiritual contemplation; as Ray becomes physically depleted and exhausted, his mind descends into insanity, and he questions the purpose of life and the value of human relationships. He befriends several of his fellow Walkers, and their camaraderie in the face of certain death is incredibly complex and powerful.
I think The Long Walk can be seen as a metaphor for the Vietnam War (or maybe any war): the lottery-type draft on TV, the horror of watching young friends die without dignity, and the sheer meaninglessness of "victory"--because even if you win, you lose everything.
As always, Stephen King tells the truth. I don't think there is any higher praise for a storyteller. The Long Walk will haunt you; it will strike a chord deep inside you, and you might hate it. That being said, this story will teach you what it is to be human, and what it means to be alive.
"But of course it had hurt. It had hurt before, in the worst, rupturing way, knowing that there would be no more you but the universe would roll on just the same, unharmed and unhampered."
--Spence
Okay, we're back. Here at Whiskey Before Breakfast, Zach and I took a brief hiatus from our weekly postings to acknowledge our final exams. Thank you for your patience. And your thunderous applause.
When Stephen King was a freshman at the University of Maine in 1966-67, he wrote his first novella, entitled The Long Walk. He published this story in 1979 under the pseudonym Richard Bachman (among several other stories, called the "Bachman Books").
The Long Walk takes place in the not-too-distant future (for all you dystopian lovers). The U.S. is now a totalitarian police state, and each year on May 1st, the government randomly selects one hundred teenage boys to participate in The Long Walk. The rules are simple: you must stay on the road and maintain a constant speed of four miles per hour. If you fall below that speed for thirty seconds, you receive a warning. If you exceed three warnings, you will be shot (the characters call it "getting your ticket"). The last man standing receives The Prize: anything and everything he wants for the rest of his life.
The narrative is told through the eyes of sixteen year-old Ray Garraty, Contestant Number 47. We know little of Ray's past except that his father was taken away (and presumably killed) by the government, and that he was raised by his mother. He has a girlfriend named Jan, about whom he daydreams and fantasizes. Ray does not know why he is a part of The Long Walk; he just knows that he didn't back out when he had the chance. With each step, he becomes more unsure of his sense of place and purpose.
I hardly know where to begin with this story. This isn't a thriller about clowns or monsters or Mockingjays. The Long Walk is raw and gritty and in-your-face from start to finish. We watch Ray's optimism in the beginning of the story spiral downward into the torturous, hellish experience of the final chapters. Stephen King brilliantly captures the Walkers' excruciating physical pain as well as their deep spiritual contemplation; as Ray becomes physically depleted and exhausted, his mind descends into insanity, and he questions the purpose of life and the value of human relationships. He befriends several of his fellow Walkers, and their camaraderie in the face of certain death is incredibly complex and powerful.
I think The Long Walk can be seen as a metaphor for the Vietnam War (or maybe any war): the lottery-type draft on TV, the horror of watching young friends die without dignity, and the sheer meaninglessness of "victory"--because even if you win, you lose everything.
As always, Stephen King tells the truth. I don't think there is any higher praise for a storyteller. The Long Walk will haunt you; it will strike a chord deep inside you, and you might hate it. That being said, this story will teach you what it is to be human, and what it means to be alive.
"But of course it had hurt. It had hurt before, in the worst, rupturing way, knowing that there would be no more you but the universe would roll on just the same, unharmed and unhampered."
--Spence
Sunday, December 2, 2012
The Road Virus Heads North
Events upon events have piled up over the last week so I can understand how all of you have been held in utter suspense, waiting for our next review to be posted. With a combination of both school work and a social life, I've been left with little to no time to read this past week. For those of you who are concerned, I'm still making my way through House of Leaves, but progress has been hindered to about snail's pace. And for those of you who aren't concerned, I went to the zoo yesterday. I think one of the more profound and enlightening animals I was able to see was the giraffe. To my understanding, they're the only mammals that sleep standing up. This must mean that their leg muscles are some of the strongest in the world (right?).
Anyways, all this is related to a short story that has been at the forefront of my mind ever since being exposed the master of modern horror himself, Stephen King (animals to horror - there's a connection there somewhere). It's hard to sum up all that King has done in his career, from snorting lines of cocaine, to writing in drunken stupors, to composing entire novels and not remembering a single event from the night before; naturally King is nothing short of a "mad-artist". In one of his earlier short story compilations, Everything's Eventual, he pens a story entitled "The Road Virus Heads North" about a man, Richard Kinnell, who purchases the bizarre painting of a malevolent-looking man who's driving a car similar to his own. The painting has an equally disturbing past, which captivates Kinnell, who's always a fan of the slightly horrific (much like King). When the tortured artist who created the painting died, he burned all his other works and left a cryptic message behind stating how he couldn't take what was happening to him.
As Kinnell continues his trip back home to Maine (a recurring setting in almost every King story), he notices the painting begins to change with each place he stops at. At one point, Kinnell attempts to ditch the painting at a rest stop, but finds to his horror, the sinister image has beat him to his own house and now displays a bloody massacre of a yard sale from whence he first purchased the painting. As the man in the car looms ever closer to Kinnell's house, Kinnell begins to frantically think of ways of how to change his impending death.
King has always been a fan of "moving pictures" stories and this is certainly an outgrowth of that love. The reader is immersed in a sense of dread and anxiety as Kinnell's painting gradually becomes more violent and warped. Along with being a solid stand-alone story, the rest of Everything's Eventual is equally macabre and enjoyable. While there can't be much drawn from the story in the way of changing mankind or one's soul (as Spence's novels seem to be about), this one is merely for entertainment and horror purposes only. Yet, that's not to say it's not worth reading, though.
-- Zach
Anyways, all this is related to a short story that has been at the forefront of my mind ever since being exposed the master of modern horror himself, Stephen King (animals to horror - there's a connection there somewhere). It's hard to sum up all that King has done in his career, from snorting lines of cocaine, to writing in drunken stupors, to composing entire novels and not remembering a single event from the night before; naturally King is nothing short of a "mad-artist". In one of his earlier short story compilations, Everything's Eventual, he pens a story entitled "The Road Virus Heads North" about a man, Richard Kinnell, who purchases the bizarre painting of a malevolent-looking man who's driving a car similar to his own. The painting has an equally disturbing past, which captivates Kinnell, who's always a fan of the slightly horrific (much like King). When the tortured artist who created the painting died, he burned all his other works and left a cryptic message behind stating how he couldn't take what was happening to him.
As Kinnell continues his trip back home to Maine (a recurring setting in almost every King story), he notices the painting begins to change with each place he stops at. At one point, Kinnell attempts to ditch the painting at a rest stop, but finds to his horror, the sinister image has beat him to his own house and now displays a bloody massacre of a yard sale from whence he first purchased the painting. As the man in the car looms ever closer to Kinnell's house, Kinnell begins to frantically think of ways of how to change his impending death.
King has always been a fan of "moving pictures" stories and this is certainly an outgrowth of that love. The reader is immersed in a sense of dread and anxiety as Kinnell's painting gradually becomes more violent and warped. Along with being a solid stand-alone story, the rest of Everything's Eventual is equally macabre and enjoyable. While there can't be much drawn from the story in the way of changing mankind or one's soul (as Spence's novels seem to be about), this one is merely for entertainment and horror purposes only. Yet, that's not to say it's not worth reading, though.
-- Zach
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