Gargoyle
by Andrew Davidson
Another one for the librarian; this is starting to get ugly.
The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson
After reading Andrew Davidson's debut novel, I am reminded of the famous quote, "Seldom have so few given so much to so many." Except in this case, it should be: never has any one been given so much, and made of it so little. This should be a good book; it is a brilliant idea, it has powerful themes and fascinating characters who are tangible and genuine despite their particular glitter, and Mr. Davidson is a good writer. But it is not a good book.
The concept is a story of redemption through love, and of the glorification of the spirit through the mortification of the flesh. The narrator begins the story as a magnificent physical specimen who is spiritually dead; within the first five pages, he has put himself through a horrific car crash and subsequently been burned over most of his body. Davidson's descriptive powers are, somewhat sadly, never more evident than in his explication of life in a burn ward. I have been a Stephen King fan for decades, and I cannot recall the last time I cringed away from a page -- until now. The narrator, having lost all his ersatz self-worth along with his skin, is surviving his treatment with the sole purpose of being released from the hospital so he can commit suicide -- another description, by the way, which is almost poetic in its grotesque verisimilitude -- until a mysterious and mystical woman walks into his life. She is Marianne Engel, a mentally unbalanced sculptor who carves gargoyles, and she tells the narrator that they were in love in a previous life, in Medieval Germany, when he was a wounded mercenary and she was a former nun.
There is a wonderful love story here, but it is ruined by Davidson's abuse of cliches: the climactic confession of love read something like a junior high school girl's diary ("I love you, I really really love you, and I know that you love me and our love is pure, the kind of love that will go on forever loving and being loved in pure love forever and ever." Et cetera.). There is a story of art transcending the artist, but it is ruined by the depictions of the artist's distasteful personality unleavened by descriptions of the wonderful art she is creating, for descriptions of her art there are none. There is a fascinating parallel between two worlds, both of which hold the same eternal romance -- ruined by the author's penchant for bad cliffhangers at chapter breaks (I.e., "I recognized the man. I gasped his name in a whisper as the bag fell from my hand." And on to the next chapter.) There is a heartbreaking descent into loss and loneliness, ruined by the simple fact that it takes too long: Marianne determines that she has a limited number of statues left to carve, and we know she will die with the last one -- but for some reason, Davidson chose 27 as her countdown's starting point. Begging the question, "What's wrong with 10?"
The book made me wish that these two lovers had simply died in the 1300's and left the rest of us in peace. I give it a D.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Book #28
White Knight
by Jim Butcher
Looking for something I knew I would enjoy more than the last one, I went for White Knight, the -- ninth? tenth? -- book in the Harry Dresden series. This one was not the best in the series, though it was worlds better than Ink Exchange, as one would expect. I liked seeing the different strains of White Court vamps, especially when we got to see all of their powers in full bloom, so to speak, when Harry and Ramirez had to confront them all at the gathering. I liked how capable Lara Raith is at manipulation, though of course I appreciate that Harry is always able to find a way through her tangled web. I thought their final escape from the cave was great -- though I didn't think a whole lot of the super-ghouls that were the ultimate bad guy; smacked of Buffy and the Neander-Vamps. Especially the whole big-showdown-in-a-cave, with a gate to the underworld that they all come through -- you get the picture. And this book didn't have nearly enough Bob in it.
I did, however, love the resolution of the Lasciel/Denarian subplot that's been running through the last five books. I liked the way it worked, and I loved the message it gave: that everyone has a choice, and the simple fact of that choice makes us better people -- when we recognize and acknowledge the choice, that is. I feel like it makes me a better teacher when I realize that I'm not actually trapped into teaching, nor am I trapped into specific lesson plans or class structures or anything like that. Hey, maybe I should keep that in mind with my online class, the giant crock o' crap; maybe I should be willing to experiment and put my own spin on my assignments, rather than looking for exactly what the professor wants to see. I'd like to know my grade first, though.
Anyway (Sorry about the rant -- I was just working on my project for this week, so I'm a little preoccupied) I liked Thomas's part in this, and I loved Mouse, of course -- I dig his super-bark -- and Elaine was fine, though not a terribly interesting character. I liked her resolution, too, how she's going to become a champion of all the lesser magic-users who aren't good enough for the White Council; you just know that's going to come back and slap them right in their elitist faces. Workers unite! I also liked the insight into Gentleman Johnny Marcone and his relationship with Dresden -- though I'm not really sure I buy the gangster-with-a-heart; can you really be ruthless and run all of Chicago's rackets without hurting innocents? Well, maybe; we are talking about a book about wizards here, so maybe I shouldn't complain about suspending my disbelief.
by Jim Butcher
Looking for something I knew I would enjoy more than the last one, I went for White Knight, the -- ninth? tenth? -- book in the Harry Dresden series. This one was not the best in the series, though it was worlds better than Ink Exchange, as one would expect. I liked seeing the different strains of White Court vamps, especially when we got to see all of their powers in full bloom, so to speak, when Harry and Ramirez had to confront them all at the gathering. I liked how capable Lara Raith is at manipulation, though of course I appreciate that Harry is always able to find a way through her tangled web. I thought their final escape from the cave was great -- though I didn't think a whole lot of the super-ghouls that were the ultimate bad guy; smacked of Buffy and the Neander-Vamps. Especially the whole big-showdown-in-a-cave, with a gate to the underworld that they all come through -- you get the picture. And this book didn't have nearly enough Bob in it.
I did, however, love the resolution of the Lasciel/Denarian subplot that's been running through the last five books. I liked the way it worked, and I loved the message it gave: that everyone has a choice, and the simple fact of that choice makes us better people -- when we recognize and acknowledge the choice, that is. I feel like it makes me a better teacher when I realize that I'm not actually trapped into teaching, nor am I trapped into specific lesson plans or class structures or anything like that. Hey, maybe I should keep that in mind with my online class, the giant crock o' crap; maybe I should be willing to experiment and put my own spin on my assignments, rather than looking for exactly what the professor wants to see. I'd like to know my grade first, though.
Anyway (Sorry about the rant -- I was just working on my project for this week, so I'm a little preoccupied) I liked Thomas's part in this, and I loved Mouse, of course -- I dig his super-bark -- and Elaine was fine, though not a terribly interesting character. I liked her resolution, too, how she's going to become a champion of all the lesser magic-users who aren't good enough for the White Council; you just know that's going to come back and slap them right in their elitist faces. Workers unite! I also liked the insight into Gentleman Johnny Marcone and his relationship with Dresden -- though I'm not really sure I buy the gangster-with-a-heart; can you really be ruthless and run all of Chicago's rackets without hurting innocents? Well, maybe; we are talking about a book about wizards here, so maybe I shouldn't complain about suspending my disbelief.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Book #27
Ink Exchange
by Melissa Marr
I read this one because Jaime, my friendly school librarian gave it to me to read for her when I took out another girl-oriented YA fantasy that Toni wanted. This was a pre-publication edition that Jaime was supposed to review, but she said her stack of such books was too high, and asked if I'd review it for her.
Hmm . . . read a YA fantasy novel, before it is published, and write up my thoughts on it?
Nah, that doesn't sound like me.
Anyway, here's my review. Two paragraphs, she limited me to -- can you believe that?
It's an interesting concept, unusual even for a fantasy novel: a certain type of Faery feeds on the emotions of others, particularly the darker emotions, anger, fear, lust, envy. In order to make as much of these emotions available for consumption as possible, these Faeries foment unrest amongst their kind; but of late, the long-standing war between the Winter Court and the Summer Court of the Fae has ended, and the resultant peace has left these poor dark Faeries starving. As it turns out, they need an intermediary in order to feed upon the emotions of humans; there must be a human focus for the emotions, which can then be funneled magically to all of the Faeries through their king. The means by which this human's emotions can be focused and channeled? A tattoo, using for ink the Faery king's blood and tears. The Faery's magic allows the tattooed human to sense the emotions of others, and the Faery king to absorb those emotions through her, and then dole them out to his subjects, like a mother bird with a craw full of worm. This is the Ink Exchange: Faery blood for human fear.
Unfortunately, that concept is the best thing about the book. The plot, if diagrammed, would look somewhat like a topographic map of the US: a great Adirondack peak of interest in the beginning, followed by an absolutely flat plain lasting for far too long to permit a traveler to maintain sanity, let alone interest, and ending with a soaring and majestic peak tailing off into a forgettable lump of an epilogue that should have broken off in an earthquake long ago. (I don't really hate California.) Actually, the book would have been far more interesting if it had begun where it ends: when the heroine, a teenaged girl named Leslie, becomes the wet nurse, if you will, for the dark Faeries, and falls under the magical sway of their king, Irial. The last quarter of the book is an absorbing depiction of the temptation of emptiness, and examines the morality of sacrificing others to protect or please yourself. It would have been much more enjoyable to explore the aftermath of that sequence than the lead up. As it is, the characters are flat or stock, the descriptions of the Fae are confusing and incomplete, and the prose leans heavily toward the improbably purple ("The wraith's voice drifted over the air, as refreshing as a sip of the moon, as heavy as churchyard soil on his tongue."). Overall I'd give it a C-.
(Side note: The review met with approval, and I'm going to do another one. w00t! I feel like I got a gold star.)
by Melissa Marr
I read this one because Jaime, my friendly school librarian gave it to me to read for her when I took out another girl-oriented YA fantasy that Toni wanted. This was a pre-publication edition that Jaime was supposed to review, but she said her stack of such books was too high, and asked if I'd review it for her.
Hmm . . . read a YA fantasy novel, before it is published, and write up my thoughts on it?
Nah, that doesn't sound like me.
Anyway, here's my review. Two paragraphs, she limited me to -- can you believe that?
It's an interesting concept, unusual even for a fantasy novel: a certain type of Faery feeds on the emotions of others, particularly the darker emotions, anger, fear, lust, envy. In order to make as much of these emotions available for consumption as possible, these Faeries foment unrest amongst their kind; but of late, the long-standing war between the Winter Court and the Summer Court of the Fae has ended, and the resultant peace has left these poor dark Faeries starving. As it turns out, they need an intermediary in order to feed upon the emotions of humans; there must be a human focus for the emotions, which can then be funneled magically to all of the Faeries through their king. The means by which this human's emotions can be focused and channeled? A tattoo, using for ink the Faery king's blood and tears. The Faery's magic allows the tattooed human to sense the emotions of others, and the Faery king to absorb those emotions through her, and then dole them out to his subjects, like a mother bird with a craw full of worm. This is the Ink Exchange: Faery blood for human fear.
Unfortunately, that concept is the best thing about the book. The plot, if diagrammed, would look somewhat like a topographic map of the US: a great Adirondack peak of interest in the beginning, followed by an absolutely flat plain lasting for far too long to permit a traveler to maintain sanity, let alone interest, and ending with a soaring and majestic peak tailing off into a forgettable lump of an epilogue that should have broken off in an earthquake long ago. (I don't really hate California.) Actually, the book would have been far more interesting if it had begun where it ends: when the heroine, a teenaged girl named Leslie, becomes the wet nurse, if you will, for the dark Faeries, and falls under the magical sway of their king, Irial. The last quarter of the book is an absorbing depiction of the temptation of emptiness, and examines the morality of sacrificing others to protect or please yourself. It would have been much more enjoyable to explore the aftermath of that sequence than the lead up. As it is, the characters are flat or stock, the descriptions of the Fae are confusing and incomplete, and the prose leans heavily toward the improbably purple ("The wraith's voice drifted over the air, as refreshing as a sip of the moon, as heavy as churchyard soil on his tongue."). Overall I'd give it a C-.
(Side note: The review met with approval, and I'm going to do another one. w00t! I feel like I got a gold star.)
Book #26
Parrot in the Oven: Mi Vida
by Victor Martinez
After reading of my salvation, I felt I should focus on what may be the eventual fate of my sinful, sinful soul: I read Parrot in the Oven by Victor Martinez.
Actually, I just felt I needed to read this and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Coming soon!) since I'm teaching both of them starting in a couple of weeks, and I wanted to know a little bit more than my class on the first day.
Now that I've read this one again, for the first time since UCSC (Or was it SJSU? I don't even remember.), I feel a twinge of remorse for recommending it for purchase to my department; it's not actually that fascinating a book. I remembered it as being at least partially about gangs, though largely about this young man's family; I was sort of right. Unfortunately, the gang thing only happens in the last forty pages of the book, and is just the last in a sequence of trials and tribulations this kid deals with; I could as easily told my colleagues that the thing was about a kid with a drunk for a father and the father threatens the family with a gun when they go to collect him from the bar, since I also remembered that part and it was as important as the gang thing. Overall, the book doesn't show much in the way of change for this kid: there's no great revelation, the kid's lot in life doesn't improve, he doesn't reach a new plateau as a person in any way. There didn't feel like a whole lot of point to it.
On the plus side, teaching-wise, it does come in a series of digestible chunks, with each chapter covering a segment of his life and pretty well self-contained; I suppose I can teach it as a Picaresque novel, if I can remember what the hell that really means (I learned about it from a professor with a very heavy Spanish accent, so my understanding at the time was fuzzy, at best). The little suckers should be able to relate to Manny fairly well, as he deals with poverty and a bad choice for a crush, a drunken father and a pregnant sister, etc., etc. Maybe they will think the events interesting because they are realistic. Maybe I've just been reading too much fantasy. But overall? Meh.
by Victor Martinez
After reading of my salvation, I felt I should focus on what may be the eventual fate of my sinful, sinful soul: I read Parrot in the Oven by Victor Martinez.
Actually, I just felt I needed to read this and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Coming soon!) since I'm teaching both of them starting in a couple of weeks, and I wanted to know a little bit more than my class on the first day.
Now that I've read this one again, for the first time since UCSC (Or was it SJSU? I don't even remember.), I feel a twinge of remorse for recommending it for purchase to my department; it's not actually that fascinating a book. I remembered it as being at least partially about gangs, though largely about this young man's family; I was sort of right. Unfortunately, the gang thing only happens in the last forty pages of the book, and is just the last in a sequence of trials and tribulations this kid deals with; I could as easily told my colleagues that the thing was about a kid with a drunk for a father and the father threatens the family with a gun when they go to collect him from the bar, since I also remembered that part and it was as important as the gang thing. Overall, the book doesn't show much in the way of change for this kid: there's no great revelation, the kid's lot in life doesn't improve, he doesn't reach a new plateau as a person in any way. There didn't feel like a whole lot of point to it.
On the plus side, teaching-wise, it does come in a series of digestible chunks, with each chapter covering a segment of his life and pretty well self-contained; I suppose I can teach it as a Picaresque novel, if I can remember what the hell that really means (I learned about it from a professor with a very heavy Spanish accent, so my understanding at the time was fuzzy, at best). The little suckers should be able to relate to Manny fairly well, as he deals with poverty and a bad choice for a crush, a drunken father and a pregnant sister, etc., etc. Maybe they will think the events interesting because they are realistic. Maybe I've just been reading too much fantasy. But overall? Meh.
Book #25 (**Blasphemy Warning**)
Venti Jesus, Please
by Greg Stier (Who doesn't actually deserve an author credit as this is not actually what I would call a book. But let's not be too picky.)
So a student of mine, a student who loves Jeezuss, gave me a book to read. He said it was really interesting, and since it related to coffee, ha ha, maybe I would like it. And he hands me this thing, this tiny little paperback, maybe 80 narrow pages front to back, called Venti Jesus, Please. So what the hell, I tell him I'll read it. And I did.
Suffice it to say: I remain a non-Christian. I was not convinced by the "But you have faith in the Big Bang and macroevolution, so surely that means my faith in six-day Creationism is equally valid!" argument, nor was I convinced by the argument that Jesus had to die for humanity's sins because God is perfect justice as well as being perfect love, and so he had to follow the rules of cause and effect in the universe he created, which means he couldn't simply wipe out all of our sin because he felt like it. Though I admit I was intrigued by that last one. He made some comment about how Jesus had to be the sacrifice because he was human and so he could die, but he was also God and so his sacrifice was infinite; that's what allows his death to make up for every other human being's sins and evil. That was an interesting way to look at it, I thought. Still bullshit, of course -- because if Jesus was truly divine then the sacrifice of his mortal self was not much of a sacrifice, especially since he knew he would rise from the dead and be assumed into Heaven, which he was (and if the issue is that he doubted, then his sacrifice was not truly the sacrifice of a divine being because at the time of his martyrdom he was merely a limited human capable of doubt -- you can't have it both ways) -- but still interesting. I was unmoved by the Christian character's "deception" when he was caught sending text messages to his youth pastor in order to get answers to his friends' tough questions (because the friends were too dumb to ask the really tough questions, like "How can you believe that the corrupted, oft-translated, politically manipulated King James Bible you hold is still the original word of God?" No, they asked, "How come Christians are such hypocrites, huh? Huh? What about that, huh?") and I was just annoyed by the title "skit," which featured a Starbucks of religion, with people ordering all sorts of various religious-themed punny drink names (Muslim-mochaccino, that kind of crap) but not being allowed to order the Venti Straight-Up Jesus because it gave them such a shot of pure Truth that their thirst was ever satisfied and they never ordered another drink, and this was offered as if it actually gave any kind of an answer to anyone's doubts about the validity of Christianity. But what the heck, I spent a total of maybe an hour reading the thing. I got a few chuckles. What more can I ask of Jeezuss?
by Greg Stier (Who doesn't actually deserve an author credit as this is not actually what I would call a book. But let's not be too picky.)
So a student of mine, a student who loves Jeezuss, gave me a book to read. He said it was really interesting, and since it related to coffee, ha ha, maybe I would like it. And he hands me this thing, this tiny little paperback, maybe 80 narrow pages front to back, called Venti Jesus, Please. So what the hell, I tell him I'll read it. And I did.
Suffice it to say: I remain a non-Christian. I was not convinced by the "But you have faith in the Big Bang and macroevolution, so surely that means my faith in six-day Creationism is equally valid!" argument, nor was I convinced by the argument that Jesus had to die for humanity's sins because God is perfect justice as well as being perfect love, and so he had to follow the rules of cause and effect in the universe he created, which means he couldn't simply wipe out all of our sin because he felt like it. Though I admit I was intrigued by that last one. He made some comment about how Jesus had to be the sacrifice because he was human and so he could die, but he was also God and so his sacrifice was infinite; that's what allows his death to make up for every other human being's sins and evil. That was an interesting way to look at it, I thought. Still bullshit, of course -- because if Jesus was truly divine then the sacrifice of his mortal self was not much of a sacrifice, especially since he knew he would rise from the dead and be assumed into Heaven, which he was (and if the issue is that he doubted, then his sacrifice was not truly the sacrifice of a divine being because at the time of his martyrdom he was merely a limited human capable of doubt -- you can't have it both ways) -- but still interesting. I was unmoved by the Christian character's "deception" when he was caught sending text messages to his youth pastor in order to get answers to his friends' tough questions (because the friends were too dumb to ask the really tough questions, like "How can you believe that the corrupted, oft-translated, politically manipulated King James Bible you hold is still the original word of God?" No, they asked, "How come Christians are such hypocrites, huh? Huh? What about that, huh?") and I was just annoyed by the title "skit," which featured a Starbucks of religion, with people ordering all sorts of various religious-themed punny drink names (Muslim-mochaccino, that kind of crap) but not being allowed to order the Venti Straight-Up Jesus because it gave them such a shot of pure Truth that their thirst was ever satisfied and they never ordered another drink, and this was offered as if it actually gave any kind of an answer to anyone's doubts about the validity of Christianity. But what the heck, I spent a total of maybe an hour reading the thing. I got a few chuckles. What more can I ask of Jeezuss?
Book #24
Eclipse
by Stephanie Meyer
I put it off long enough, so I went for Eclipse, the third Stephanie Meyer book. It's hard to believe I've read all three of these this year -- and all within the last two months! It seems like I've been reading them along with all of my other paranormal series, Butcher and Harrison and Harris. Well, at least I'll be waiting eagerly for the fourth and final book to come out this summer -- and also for the movie version of Twilight to come out, since not only is it one of those things I'll have to see out of morbid curiosity about how badly Hollywood will mangle a book I've enjoyed -- but this particular set of manglers are filming in St. Helens! At my high school! Gee willikers, I wish I could get in as an extra! Actually, I think they're just doing second-unit exteriors and environmental scenes, but it's still pretty cool that they're using my high school.
Oh, right -- the book.
This one was pretty good, though I got really annoyed with Jacob before the end of it, which was too bad. I like Jacob. But he goes after Bella, and he does it aggressively, trying to force her to admit she loves him and speaking badly of Edward (after a day spent with teenagers -- and discussing drama, even, which means something else to them than it does to me -- I wanted to write "talking crap" there) and just coming off like an arrogant tough guy. I know he is now a tough guy, but I liked his sweet sensitive side; I could relate to that Jacob. In this book I found myself relating much more to the sweet and sensitive Edward, especially when he deals with Jacob's crap so maturely, certainly more like an adult that I could be if someone was trying to make out with my sweetie. There'd be pouting like you wouldn't believe!
But it was great to see that Meyer thought of the ways that vampires would take advantage of their abilities in their wars with each other; I really liked the idea of the newborn horde. I also liked Jasper's origins, and how the Cullens handled the attack -- and I'm very glad to see the whole Bella-hunting subplot resolved. Though I'd love to know how the ultimate puzzle, the Bella-becoming-immortal-or-not storyline, will finally wrap up. I guess I can wait a few months.
Overall, these just strike me as fun, sweet books with some really nice writing and mainly good ideas.
by Stephanie Meyer
I put it off long enough, so I went for Eclipse, the third Stephanie Meyer book. It's hard to believe I've read all three of these this year -- and all within the last two months! It seems like I've been reading them along with all of my other paranormal series, Butcher and Harrison and Harris. Well, at least I'll be waiting eagerly for the fourth and final book to come out this summer -- and also for the movie version of Twilight to come out, since not only is it one of those things I'll have to see out of morbid curiosity about how badly Hollywood will mangle a book I've enjoyed -- but this particular set of manglers are filming in St. Helens! At my high school! Gee willikers, I wish I could get in as an extra! Actually, I think they're just doing second-unit exteriors and environmental scenes, but it's still pretty cool that they're using my high school.
Oh, right -- the book.
This one was pretty good, though I got really annoyed with Jacob before the end of it, which was too bad. I like Jacob. But he goes after Bella, and he does it aggressively, trying to force her to admit she loves him and speaking badly of Edward (after a day spent with teenagers -- and discussing drama, even, which means something else to them than it does to me -- I wanted to write "talking crap" there) and just coming off like an arrogant tough guy. I know he is now a tough guy, but I liked his sweet sensitive side; I could relate to that Jacob. In this book I found myself relating much more to the sweet and sensitive Edward, especially when he deals with Jacob's crap so maturely, certainly more like an adult that I could be if someone was trying to make out with my sweetie. There'd be pouting like you wouldn't believe!
But it was great to see that Meyer thought of the ways that vampires would take advantage of their abilities in their wars with each other; I really liked the idea of the newborn horde. I also liked Jasper's origins, and how the Cullens handled the attack -- and I'm very glad to see the whole Bella-hunting subplot resolved. Though I'd love to know how the ultimate puzzle, the Bella-becoming-immortal-or-not storyline, will finally wrap up. I guess I can wait a few months.
Overall, these just strike me as fun, sweet books with some really nice writing and mainly good ideas.
Book #23
Twinkie, Deconstructed
by Steve Ettlinger
We finally got to Powell's, and bought several new tasty selections, but as we were heading for the check-out, I noticed this bright orange book on a rack, with a large Twinkie on the cover. Twinkies? I'm fascinated by Twinkies, ever since I put a pair into a jar in 2005, where they sit to this day, stale and hard as rocks but otherwise unspoiled. I looked at the title: Twinkie, Deconstructed: My Journey to Discover How the Ingredients Found in Processed Foods Are Grown, Mined (Yes, Mined), and Manipulated into What America Eats. Oh, I like that. I am highly disturbed by the amount of processing that goes into our food. I looked a little closer -- and saw a Discount sticker. Sold.
I finished Furies of Calderon a day or so later, so I grabbed up my most serendipitous find because I like surprises in books. And I got one. Steve Ettlinger, the man who wrote this and several other food books, is not horrified as I am by the chemicals and machinery that process our food, nor is he disgusted by the source of most of the food additives. Oh, no: he finds it fascinating. It was like reading a canned travelogue by a corporate shill as he goes on an ersatz tour of discovery. The majority of the commentary in the book was along the lines of, "Gee, that machine over there, where they're mixing corn with six different toxic chemicals in order to make it look bright orange, is really, really big!" or "Golly, ain't it a wonder that such a delicious food comes from a petrochemical factory in China! If only we in America could eliminate our labor laws, we could make this wondrous product ourselves!" And no, I'm not exaggerating. I took to reading this book in Troy McClure's voice, since it reminded me so much of his Meat Council film on how meat gets from the farm into your stomach. Everything was spun so that it was supposed to depict the miracle of modern industry, of how these massive, shadowy chemical conglomerates manage to make food so easy to make and sell, and so appealing to an unsuspecting public, on such a huge scale. Every time he visited one of these plants, he was never allowed to see the process that goes into making the actual additive, but he was allowed to gawp at the 80-story buildings and the 1000-ton train cars and the 1,000,000-gallon mixing tanks. Every single company he describes, the first thing he talks about is the scale: how big the buildings and machines are, how much material they take in and how much they pump out every day, every year.
The entire thing was disgusting to me. The whole system boils down to this: we eat grains like wheat, soybeans and corn; minerals like salt and soda ash (baking soda), and oil. Lots and lots of oil. I don't know what it is about petrochemicals that make them so handy for the artificial food industry, but the last several chapters of the book (He wrote it in the same order as the list of ingredients on a Twinkie wrapper, which is clever but tends to de-emphasize the most horrid things, which are in there in much smaller proportions that high fructose corn syrup -- though that's really pretty nasty, too.) are all about different ways that oil and natural gas get messed with chemically in order to produce flavorings, dyes, and preservatives. And reading all of this with this author who actually takes the word of the company that all of the toxins are removed after processing and the food is perfectly healthy for human consumption -- it was amazing to watch him swallow that one; it was like watching a boa constrictor eat a Vespa -- gave the whole thing such a surreal aura that it was even more bizarre and uncomfortable to read than it should have been just based on the subject. I haven't eaten Twinkies since I started my jar -- and this book kind of ruined that, too, since I found out that Twinkies really are just baked goods, and any bread/cake (Any processed one, that is) I put into a jar like that would probably just stale, instead of spoiling -- but now I want to stop eating all processed foods, or at least as much as I can. It amazed me that someone could find out so many terrible things and think nothing of it. Then again, I guess it was like a little slice of America.
by Steve Ettlinger
We finally got to Powell's, and bought several new tasty selections, but as we were heading for the check-out, I noticed this bright orange book on a rack, with a large Twinkie on the cover. Twinkies? I'm fascinated by Twinkies, ever since I put a pair into a jar in 2005, where they sit to this day, stale and hard as rocks but otherwise unspoiled. I looked at the title: Twinkie, Deconstructed: My Journey to Discover How the Ingredients Found in Processed Foods Are Grown, Mined (Yes, Mined), and Manipulated into What America Eats. Oh, I like that. I am highly disturbed by the amount of processing that goes into our food. I looked a little closer -- and saw a Discount sticker. Sold.
I finished Furies of Calderon a day or so later, so I grabbed up my most serendipitous find because I like surprises in books. And I got one. Steve Ettlinger, the man who wrote this and several other food books, is not horrified as I am by the chemicals and machinery that process our food, nor is he disgusted by the source of most of the food additives. Oh, no: he finds it fascinating. It was like reading a canned travelogue by a corporate shill as he goes on an ersatz tour of discovery. The majority of the commentary in the book was along the lines of, "Gee, that machine over there, where they're mixing corn with six different toxic chemicals in order to make it look bright orange, is really, really big!" or "Golly, ain't it a wonder that such a delicious food comes from a petrochemical factory in China! If only we in America could eliminate our labor laws, we could make this wondrous product ourselves!" And no, I'm not exaggerating. I took to reading this book in Troy McClure's voice, since it reminded me so much of his Meat Council film on how meat gets from the farm into your stomach. Everything was spun so that it was supposed to depict the miracle of modern industry, of how these massive, shadowy chemical conglomerates manage to make food so easy to make and sell, and so appealing to an unsuspecting public, on such a huge scale. Every time he visited one of these plants, he was never allowed to see the process that goes into making the actual additive, but he was allowed to gawp at the 80-story buildings and the 1000-ton train cars and the 1,000,000-gallon mixing tanks. Every single company he describes, the first thing he talks about is the scale: how big the buildings and machines are, how much material they take in and how much they pump out every day, every year.
The entire thing was disgusting to me. The whole system boils down to this: we eat grains like wheat, soybeans and corn; minerals like salt and soda ash (baking soda), and oil. Lots and lots of oil. I don't know what it is about petrochemicals that make them so handy for the artificial food industry, but the last several chapters of the book (He wrote it in the same order as the list of ingredients on a Twinkie wrapper, which is clever but tends to de-emphasize the most horrid things, which are in there in much smaller proportions that high fructose corn syrup -- though that's really pretty nasty, too.) are all about different ways that oil and natural gas get messed with chemically in order to produce flavorings, dyes, and preservatives. And reading all of this with this author who actually takes the word of the company that all of the toxins are removed after processing and the food is perfectly healthy for human consumption -- it was amazing to watch him swallow that one; it was like watching a boa constrictor eat a Vespa -- gave the whole thing such a surreal aura that it was even more bizarre and uncomfortable to read than it should have been just based on the subject. I haven't eaten Twinkies since I started my jar -- and this book kind of ruined that, too, since I found out that Twinkies really are just baked goods, and any bread/cake (Any processed one, that is) I put into a jar like that would probably just stale, instead of spoiling -- but now I want to stop eating all processed foods, or at least as much as I can. It amazed me that someone could find out so many terrible things and think nothing of it. Then again, I guess it was like a little slice of America.
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