Fiction Friday (27)

The time has come again where I've finished reading a novel and would like to share my thoughts. This week's book is of particular interest to me as I recently took a part-time job with United States Postal Service. Given that fact I figured it was about time I read a book that had been sitting on my shelf for years. It was given to me as a slight joke by my good friend, with whom I suffered through Kevin Costner's three and half hour film adaptation nearly twenty years ago. However, I knew the book was supposed to be good, and seeing as how I am now a "postman" it seemed worthy of a read, and indeed it was. Enjoy.

The Postman by David Brin
(Spectra, 1985)

Dystopian fiction before it became a fad was usually more interested in survival than the current theme of love in the face of insurmountable odds. The Postman is a story of surviving, not just the survival one individual, but the survival of a cultural spirit. Set in the state of Oregon, two decades after a Doomwar has torn apart the fabric of society and left its shreds to flap in the breeze, the novel plays out one of the fundamental conflicts of human civilization; primitivism vs. progressive.

The story begins with an attack. Gordon, an intelligent and resourceful survivor, is robbed of all the possessions that he needs to keep him alive as night begins to set in the mountains. Desperate, knowing that he won't survive the night, he pursues the band of robbers in the hopes of making a last ditch attempt to get his gear back and live another day. While trying to find their camp, he is led off track and ends up coming across something more valuable than he could possibly imagine. At first, the old U.S. Mail truck is simply a shelter, its bags of mail become blankets from the cold, and the dead skeleton's uniform is a mere substitute for the gear that was stolen.

Gordon only discovers the symbolic power of these items once he enters the next town on the other side of the mountains, a relatively stable and peaceful community that mistakes him for a postman from a nation they thought no longer existed. Despite Gordon's honesty about how he come in possession of the items, the people latch onto the ideal, even giving him letters to take to long lost family in towns to the West. As he travels from town to town, he quickly learns that his uniform, and the ever more elaborate myth he tells of The Resorted United States, are able to ease the hostilities of communities weary of strangers. Eventually he takes to setting up Post Offices in the places he passes through, appointing postmasters and inadvertently establishing a mail system between the communities.

The Post Office is a wonderful symbol for civilization. It represents the idea of free communication, and communication is the key to a greater purpose and the basis of forming larger communities. The myth quickly grows beyond Gordon's control and he suffers from guilt as he realizes he's giving people hope where perhaps none is warranted. This become painfully clear when the new larger community he's developed is faced with fighting off an invasion of the barbaric hoard known as Holnists, followers of a pre-war survivalist and his primitive teachings. Their epic battles take on the metaphor of good vs. evil in dramatic and powerful ways.

While the novel veers off course a little as it nears the end, getting bogged down in another sub-plot of the advantages and perils of technology, it manages to pull everything together nicely in the end. This is that rare kind of book that mixes action with profound intellectual ideas. A thoroughly enjoyable read that leaves you with much to think about.

Fiction Friday (17)

Given all the paranoia and righteous anger stirred up this week about the government's invasive and illegal surveillance program, it seemed like a good week to catch up on reviews of dystopian teen novels. As we move closer to a future where most people have little hope of avoiding one of the endlessly covered scenarios laid out in fiction, it's probably good to study up and be prepared. Despite being written 43 years apart, the two books here grapple with the same overarching themes of a freedom and totalitarianism. Interesting that we always fear a loss of freedom when generally speaking, we grow more free with each generation.

The City of Gold and Lead by John Christopher
(MacMillan, 1967)

The second installment of John Christopher's science fiction dystopia series is far darker than its predecessor. Whereas the first book used the premise of a controlling, conquering race of aliens as a backdrop to discuss free-will and conformity, the second book is a powerful exploration of slavery and the master/slave relationship.

After Will managed to escape the Tripods and met up with the free people living in the Alps, out of the reach of the aliens, he begins training with the others working toward the eventual overthrow of the oppressors. His first mission takes him to the City of Gold and Lead where the masters live. Only the fittest young people are taken there to serve the aliens, and none ever come back. Will's mission is to go there to discover anything about the mysterious masters that might help defeat them, and then somehow escape.

One of the best aspects of the novel is the way this city is imagined. Reading it, you can almost feel its heavier gravity and sweltering heat, which compound the suffocating reality of Will's situation. The episodes of cruelty bestowed upon him by his master are powerfully written, as are the aliens attempts at friendship. John Christopher does an amazing job and describing a situation where a slave could come to feel for his master, and the strength it takes to resist the kindness of an oppressor.

Extremely compelling on many levels. (Click here for my review of the first book)

Matched by Ally Condie

(Dutton, 2010)

The premise of Matched doesn't differ much from many other dystopian stories. There are white uniformed Officials, representatives of some faceless authority, who monitor and determine every aspect of people's lives. This includes who each is "matched" with as a teen, matched being another word for mated in this situation. The officials carry the same level of dread as the firemen in Fahrenheit 451 as they confiscate forbidden objects and create a general sense of anxiety. While obeyed and respected, they are also subjects of the same level of distrust as a gentle occupying army. All in all, I thought the dystopian elements were very well done, however they really just serve as a backdrop for the love story which is truly the heart of the book.

Cassia, the girl at the center of the story, must choose between two boys, both of whom, of course, are loyal and good looking. Again, this set-up can be found in countless stories, and one presented so frequently these days in YA fiction, most notably in Twilight and The Hunger Games. The book spends much of its effort on the question of who she will choose. One is safe, one is dangerous. One is mysterious, one is familiar. But the real problem is that both are kind of too good to be true and the book spends way too much time on Cassia's dilemma of choosing between them, and making it way too clear which is the one she wants to choose. Sure, the idea is supposed to be that making any choice in a society where choices are always made for you would be difficult, and love especially so, but I still would have liked to see Cassia a little more decisive. Having choices made for someone doesn't necessarily make them indecisive, in fact, it has great potential to bring out the opposite in people.

Another problem I had with Cassia was in the attempt to make her a rebellious figure. Her defiance was in such passive ways, and typically not for reasons she believed in herself, but for a boy. She wasn't the strong kind of character that Katniss is, for example. That said, I did quite enjoy the seeing the cracks in this dystopian world slowly being exposed.

Overall, I did enjoy reading this book. It's definitely a page turner and certainly exciting enough to keep a reader's interest. However, I felt the dystopian elements were simply used as way of adding some twist to the love story. Unfortunately, the love story was far less interesting than the support used to prop it up.

Fiction Friday (5)

It's the end of the week and time to think about recent reads of the past. This week I wanted to share two books that I absolutely loved. Sometimes it's good to simply gush about things. Though I firmly believe in the benefit of critical reviews, I've been feeling there is too much negative energy floating around these days and didn't want to contribute to it by pointing out flaws I've found in other books. Instead, I want to talk about two books that did everything right in my opinion. I read both of these in the last month or so and they truly impressed me for completely different reasons. Enjoy.

Pictures of Hollis Woods by Patricia Reilly Giff

(Yearling 2002)

Written in a direct, forceful style, Pictures of Hollis Woods is one of those books that seizes the reader from the opening page. Hollis, a twelve year old girl who has spent her life shuttling through foster homes, is portrayed with heartbreaking accuracy. In fact, she will most likely break your heart on the first page with the first of many pictures she draws. She is a girl anxious to be loved, but terrified of getting too close, because whenever she does...things tend to go wrong. The book does an amazing job of keeping the characters grounded in a story that could so easily have become over analytical. It never strays from the raw emotion of a character who doesn't know her own worth. For some the story might be wrapped in too neat a package by the end, but it didn't bother me. Sometimes it's nice to believe that good things can happen to deserving people.

The White Mountains by John Christopher

(MacMillan 1967)

The story of a future inhabited by a mind-controlled population is one I've encountered countless times in various forms with different culprits such as nefarious governments, mass hallucination, or as is the case in The White Mountains, invading aliens. The strength of this book is that it made me forget all those others as I was reading. For the most part this is due to the powerful, subtle voice of the main character, a boy named Will.

In this vision of the future, people have built a safe, seemingly normal life in the ashes of the world we know. The only difference is the roaming tripod machines that lord over them by placing a 'cap' on each person once they reach adolescence. Before meeting a strange wanderer, Will had never imagined a life where he wasn't capped. But after hearing tales of a resistance group living in the Alps, he sets off to find them, and hopefully a life of free will.

This first book in a series chronicles three boys as they venture across France on their way to the mountains. It reads less like science fiction or fantasy and more like any other adventure tale. The relationship between the three is extremely well written. The characters experience the same emotions as any young teens in contemporary fiction, which goes a long way to making the extraordinary elements of the plot feel more grounded. With so many dystopian novels out there these days, this is an old one worth revisiting. It reminded me of The People of Sparks in some ways. A wonderful book and I can't wait to read the others.

Surely, Even in Dystopia...

Let me begin by saying I love Dystopian fiction. I also love post-apocalyptic tales of any kind and have since I was young child. It's true folks, I can be a bleak person. But one thing about most visions of post-disaster Dystopia that I can't fathom is the nearly universal idea that books will be valued merely for starting campfires.

This doesn't seem to jive with our human need for entertaining our imaginations. And surely, even in a world where one is forced to fight to the death over a bar of soap, there are down moments where he or she wants entertained. When all those DVD players and hi-fi portable stereos fail to work, would books not benefit from their low technology? Would not their value increase in a community to a level they once were before television?

Of course, I must rule out any future where people forget how to read. In that situation, well, naturally a book burns real good. But I don't see that happening unless everyone surviving is illiterate. I will also give a pass to stories where books are a metaphor for thoughts, I'm talking to you Fahrenheit 451. But otherwise, I happen to believe books would benefit from a global meltdown. It's the current trek of Western Society that threatens the value of a book more than any downturn.

So why does this flaw so often appear in such stories?

Simple. It's a writer's worst nightmare. When thinking up a nightmarish society, we always want to include a place where books are used as toilet paper. But if we stop to think about...it just doesn't seem logical. Besides, books are already being recycled to become things like egg cartons and yes, toilet paper.