Three unrelated things
Sunday, January 8th, 2006 09:45 pmThis is my newest New Year's Resolution: Listen to entire albums more often. Listening to random things on Launchcast is fun, but I have the feeling that immersing myself in one artist's soundscape for an extended period of time is good for my brain. It's worth a try, anyway.
You know it's time to declutter your room when you find a piece of paper with directions on how to get to the office of a doctor whom you have not only not seen since before moving to your current address, but who has himself moved--to Michigan, four years ago. Eesh.
People know that I love to read, and they know that I can't afford to buy books myself, so various folks have given me novels which are stacked up in my room waiting to be read. One of the books on one of the stacks begged and pleaded with me to ignore all the things I've got checked out from the library (I have a library addiction, you know), so I took pity on it and gave it some attention this weekend. I am grateful to whomever gave me this book for the opportunity to read it, but that does not mean that it's actually a good book. If my writing seems much worse than usual for a sleep-depped hummingwolf, blame this book. It's a pretty painful book.
Which book, you ask? Wired, by Robert L. Wise. A novel set in the year 2022 about "monstrous" nanotechnology, the post-Rapture world, the rise of the Anti-Christ, wacky photons, that sort of thing. A novel where all the people left behind, from boys as young as five to prominent government officials to elderly grandmothers, all speak as if they learned English from poorly-edited newspapers and bad comic books (probably Jack T. Chick tracts), unless they happen to be from Israel because all Jews (and all Israelis are Jews, you know) sound something like Yoda. A world where nobody except the now-missing church people ever, ever wondered what happens to people when they die, or ever thought about religion at all (except possibly for some of the Israelis). A world where all the churches are empty, since apparently going to church is the only thing anyone ever needed to do to become one of the disappeared. A world where the Anti-Christ is identified by the fact that he uses two different full names, both of which consist of three names with six letters each--Borden Camber Carson and Hassan Jawhar Rashid. (One wonders about the author's opinion of Ronald Wilson Reagan.) A world where... gah, I quit. Check out this review.
In fairness to Wired's author whose name I have already forgotten since typing it out at the beginning of the previous paragraph because I am repressing, dang it, I at least got the sense that he doesn't hate people the way, say, Jack Chick does. In fact there are even hints in the book that helping out poor people would be a good thing, though nobody ever gets around to doing it. Also, while the characters aren't exactly the most 3-D you'll ever meet in fiction (the bad dialogue seriously gets in the way), they are more consistent than the reviewer above gives them credit for. There's even a reasonably good description of someone going through the shock stage of the grieving process. Anyway, I am grateful for having the opportunity to laugh a lot this weekend, so the book's got that much going for it.
You know it's time to declutter your room when you find a piece of paper with directions on how to get to the office of a doctor whom you have not only not seen since before moving to your current address, but who has himself moved--to Michigan, four years ago. Eesh.
People know that I love to read, and they know that I can't afford to buy books myself, so various folks have given me novels which are stacked up in my room waiting to be read. One of the books on one of the stacks begged and pleaded with me to ignore all the things I've got checked out from the library (I have a library addiction, you know), so I took pity on it and gave it some attention this weekend. I am grateful to whomever gave me this book for the opportunity to read it, but that does not mean that it's actually a good book. If my writing seems much worse than usual for a sleep-depped hummingwolf, blame this book. It's a pretty painful book.
Which book, you ask? Wired, by Robert L. Wise. A novel set in the year 2022 about "monstrous" nanotechnology, the post-Rapture world, the rise of the Anti-Christ, wacky photons, that sort of thing. A novel where all the people left behind, from boys as young as five to prominent government officials to elderly grandmothers, all speak as if they learned English from poorly-edited newspapers and bad comic books (probably Jack T. Chick tracts), unless they happen to be from Israel because all Jews (and all Israelis are Jews, you know) sound something like Yoda. A world where nobody except the now-missing church people ever, ever wondered what happens to people when they die, or ever thought about religion at all (except possibly for some of the Israelis). A world where all the churches are empty, since apparently going to church is the only thing anyone ever needed to do to become one of the disappeared. A world where the Anti-Christ is identified by the fact that he uses two different full names, both of which consist of three names with six letters each--Borden Camber Carson and Hassan Jawhar Rashid. (One wonders about the author's opinion of Ronald Wilson Reagan.) A world where... gah, I quit. Check out this review.
In fairness to Wired's author whose name I have already forgotten since typing it out at the beginning of the previous paragraph because I am repressing, dang it, I at least got the sense that he doesn't hate people the way, say, Jack Chick does. In fact there are even hints in the book that helping out poor people would be a good thing, though nobody ever gets around to doing it. Also, while the characters aren't exactly the most 3-D you'll ever meet in fiction (the bad dialogue seriously gets in the way), they are more consistent than the reviewer above gives them credit for. There's even a reasonably good description of someone going through the shock stage of the grieving process. Anyway, I am grateful for having the opportunity to laugh a lot this weekend, so the book's got that much going for it.
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