Archive for the 'Book Review' Category

The Hunger Games

by Jason Stotts

The movie The Hunger Games has been doing exceptionally well in the box office and it’s no surprise.  The Hunger Games are poignant, dramatic, and moving.  It is the story of children caught up in the machine of an all powerful government who controls the very lives of its citizens and kills them for sport and to keep the others in line.  It is the dramatization of what happens when the state gains absolute power.  But, this post is not about how The Hunger Games is all too apropos to the direction our own government is heading.  No, this post is about something entirely different.

In The Hunger Games, we see the viciciousness of a world in which children have to murder each other for sport, to appease their government, and to help keep the subjegated masses under control.  We watch these children murder each other on screen, much as the ficitious residents of Panem do and we think about what a good shot Katniss is with her bow or how powerful Cato is.  But, do we wonder about how we are so used to violence and death that the idea of even children killing each other as pets of their government doesn’t faze us?  Do we not worry what has become of our humanity when children killing children is not absolutely shocking?

Moreover, do we not realize what is suspiciously absent from the film?  In the book, Katniss remarks that the height of fashion for tributes is often nudity and she is relieved that her stylist Cinna doesn’t just make her go out naked or perhaps covered in just coal dust.  There are scenes of her showering in the book, of being worked on naked by her prep team to look good for her death, and even of her bathing in the river during the games.  These scenes are absent in the movie.  Why?  Because they contain nudity.  Of children.  And that is unacceptable in our culture.  It’s fine to watch them murder each other, but god forbid we see their nude bodies, whether they are being sexual or not.  And let me point out that I say “god forbid” very pointedly, becuase it is the christian preoccupation with the evil of the body, the sinful nature of the flesh, and the very evil of our “coroporeal prison” that has brought us to this day when to see children murder each other is fine, but to see their exposed bodies is not.  And to think that the christians call us immoral.

If you haven’t considered why you think it’s okay for children to murder each other, but not to be naked on screen, please pause and ask yourself that now.  There was no nudity in the movie because that would have moved their rating from PG-13 to R.  Not the murder of children by other children. Simple nudity.  Nudity in context of a story, nudity because it is part of life, nudity because it is natural.  Not even sexuality, not even gratuitous nudity, just simple nudity can move the rating from PG-13 to R, whereas the murder of children cannot.  What an interesting time we live in.

Our culture, corrupted with the taint of christianity, is so perverse that murder is more desirable to see than the natural state of our bodies.  I can think of no more obvious sign that everything about christianity is set up as the opposite of what is good and fine in life.  I can think of no more telling example than this that christianity is truly the great inversion of morality, the turning of morality from being an aid to achieve a good life to being nothing more than a path to perversion and death.  That christianity is nothing more than the worship of death.

It doesn’t have to be this way.  The day is not too late.  We are still alive.  We still have our minds.  We are still free to act, to think, to write.  We can reconsider our positions, reconsider why we believe the things we do.  We can throw off the shackles of irrationality and look at things anew in the light of reason.  We can regain our humanity one person at a time and retake our culture.  And what a culture it was at one point, the American Dream: Freedom, Independence, Ingenuity, Mastery over Nature, Self-Reliance, a Government that is Servant and not Master.  A dream that reasonable men and women would be able to live out their lives on their own terms, free to succeed or fail on their own merits.  The dream began to fade because the philosophy on which is was based was not yet ready.  And make no mistake, culture is only a reflection of philosophy, of ideas.  Without the right ideas upon which to build, the structure slowly collapsed in on itself.  But it is not gone yet and the philosophy is now ready.

We can start again in this noble land where the ideals are good and true, even if they are beginning to be corrupted.  We can replace their poor foundations with strong ones made from good ideas and begin to build again.  Through reason and human intelligence, we can reraise our flags of virtue and rebuild our society in the light of reason.  We will have to throw off all scraps of faith, of desire to control the lives of others, of the desire to live off of others, of weakness and frailty, and replace these things with reason, productiveness, independence, and self-reliance.  We can do it.  The day is not too late.  The sparks are lit.  The only quesiton that remains is are we willing to commit ourselves fully to reason and fans the flames to immolate this culture corrupted by faith and religion and build anew through reason to the glory of man?

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Review: The Chess Master

by Jason Stotts

Recently, a friend of mine, Stephen Peeples, from my graduating class at Denison published his first book The Chess Master.  Via Facebook, he sent out requests for everyone he knew to buy the book and help him get established as a writer.  Since I’m going to be in his position soon, once Sexual Perfection comes out, I was sympathetic and bought a copy of his book the first weekend.

After reading the first two chapters, I wish that I had not.

To say that the book is a sophomoric attempt at fiction is too lenient.  The author seems to be completely unaware that the art of fiction is to show the reader what is happening in a story, not to tell them. Consequently, The Chess Master reads like a poorly narrated attempt to craft a story.  The style is awkward, the phrases are strange, and the metaphors are weird.  For example: “His frame, once a temple of knowledge, has been reduced to nothing more than a punching bag, a sack of bones swaying in the wind with the slightest breeze” (p. 5).  I’d say more, but it really speaks for itself.

Further, the author seems to have done no fact checking and not to even have thought much about what it would be like to be a detective in real life: ”Ryan pulls [his necklace] off of his neck and uses the key to unlock his top drawer.  Sliding it open, he pulls out a police issued handgun.”  Really?  Really?  So this great detective is not only not carrying his duty firearm, he has it locked inside his desk.  Not only is he not wearing his primary “police issued handgun,” he is apparently not carrying a back up gun, which is unrealistic.  Further, no police officer of any rank would ever just think of the thing on which his life depended as just his “police issued handgun.”  At the very least, he’d think of it by manufacturer or kind: e.g. Glock or M&P.  Furthermore, this detective places his loaded gun on the seat next to him when he gets in his car, which is just dangerous.  Not only that, but the most common “standard issue” police weapon right now is a Glock, yet Detective Ryan “turns off” his safety on his “police issued handgun.”  Glocks do not have manual safeties.  It is this kind of complete inattention to detail that makes the story unbelievable and prevent one from engaging in the story.

The combination of the author telling me the story in his awkward style combined with his complete inattention to details destroys whatever value might have been in the story itself, if one had the gumption to wade through the all too many deficiencies of the book to find it.

Stephen, I’m sorry.  I tried to like this book, I really did.  However, it is literally the worst instance of fiction I’ve ever tried to read.

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Review: Crosspoints

by Jason Stotts

Crosspoints: A Novel of Choice
by Alexandra York
ISBN:1413418953

In Crosspoints, Alexandra York weaves the story of three people whose passion for their work may or may not be the result of unacknowledged premises: Leon, whose artistic fame is rivaled only by the price of his commissions; Tara, whose passion for archaeology is driven by her need to find gods to look up to; and Dimitrios, world famous archeologist, and Tara’s mentor, whose interest in the past is being eclipsed by his desire for the present. The novel revolves around the events that will change the lives of all three people and will introduce each to himself.

I found the book to be a dramatic portrayal of the consequences of ideas. York’s characterization is superb and I couldn’t help but feel anguish for mistakes, anticipation for resolution, and joy at achievement. York has achieved the all too rare distinction of having written a true novel, with characters I’d actually be interested in meeting in real life.

I strongly recommend this book.

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