We All Need an Education, but not Necessarily a School

A review of "Educated" by Tara Westover (click for a sneak peek).

I believe Tara Westover still loves her parents very much because by having published "Educated", she ends up acknowledging that their mental survivalist parents provided them with some kind of instruction that in the end can be considered part of what makes her who she is. I say "mental" because that is what they were or still are: absolutely crazy, especially his zealot loud father who smells government complots in any public service provided by the state and who believes blindly that the Holocaust never took place. In a few words, we can say that this memoir is a narration of the life of a successful woman despite her survivalist parents who ended up shunning her from the family.

Most times your parents will want the best for you and will do costly sacrifices in order to make sure that you succeed in life. Genius will at least be acknowledged and your parents, even if they are extremely poor, will try to ensure you have got an education, and when I say education, I mean the fact that most parents will send you to school or will devise a plan to exploit your talents. Tara Westover's parents had three exceptional kids, there was even one who taught himself calculus! Yet, they never got any praise for it, and there was never any intention of making sure they attended school and later university. Her father took them out of school and isolated them at Buck's Peak due to his concerns over the influence the external world would have had in their family's minds.

However, that was not all. Her parents decided to let another nuts in their family loose and mistreat their daughters, Tara and Audrey. He was physically abusive and threatened them with death several times, but her parents always played the "look away" game. I must confess I do not understand their reaction, it just slips away from my imagination. I am a father, and I do not think I would act in the same way Tara's father did unless I had a mental disease, which seems to have been the case. She actually suspects he suffers from bipolar disorder, though his "symptoms" sometimes resemble schizophrenia. Anyway, I also believe this book is a good example of how religion rots and ruins everything. Religion does not create strong links, it only creates divisions and hatred, something Mr. Westover seems to have plenty of it, though he was "blessed" with understanding loving children.

In conclusion, we can sum up this book in just a few phrases. This memoir is a beautiful touching "devotional book" that works as a testimonial test that celebrates and acknowledges the power of education to open the eyes and change people's lives. However, education must not be confused with schooling, it goes beyond the brick and mortar boundaries of such an institution. Being educated means being able to see what lies beyond the mountain, and what is hidden beyond the stars. That is the reason why education cannot reconcile with religion. Religion is dogmatic and it always has right or wrong answers. Being educated is a neverending race for enlightenment, a race to understand ourselves and understand and accept the others.

UNA HIJUEPUTA PERDIDA DE TIEMPO

Click para leer las primeras páginas de la última novela de Vallejo

El primero de mayo fuimos a la Feria Internacional del Libro de Bogotá y mi esposa Mónica le compró a su hermana el libro más vendido de la feria: "Memorias de un hijueputa" de Fernando Vallejo. Antes de que el libro volara a su destino final, decidí ver que nos tenía de nuevo el septuagenario más políticamente incorrecto de Colombia, y la verdad es que su última obra es la mismo de siempre, una gran decepción. Con su verborrea característica y estridente, Vallejo esta vez tiene nuevas víctimas: la clase política colombiana y a algunos escritores que sin mofa confunde. ¿Cómo olvidar cuando afirma que el escritor Abad (a quien llama huerfanito) es el autor de "Sin tetas no hay paraíso"? Fernando Vallejo parece ya no tener nada que ofrecerles a los lectores, solamente su coprolalia venenosa que cada vez me resulta más aburridora. Sé que en el pasado lo consideré un maestro de la literatura, pero en este última "novela" su prosa parece desgastada, ilegible y rutinaria. La escritura de Vallejo ha logrado alcanzar su transformación final y ahora es semejante a su dueño: un viejo cascarrabias odioso de quien todos se ríen, pero que nadie toma en serio.

Esta novela de Vallejo es un intento burdo de crear la típica historia latinoamericana de un tirano, de un dictador déspota que hace y deshace y logra torcer el mundo a su antojo porque todos siguen sus caprichos. Supongo que Vallejo tuvo como ejemplo de este tipo de historias a "El Otoño del Patriarca", otra novela caótica, pero mucho mejor lograda que la del escritor paisa. Cuando Vallejo trata de convencernos de que quien cuenta sus memorias es un exdictador loco que se dirige a su secretario Peñaranda, el libro fluye y divierte. Porque a pesar de todo Vallejo es divertido, aunque de una manera tan cruel que le gana tantos adeptos como detractores. Pero cuando Vallejo pierde el hilo de la narración y olvida que aquella voz en primera persona debe ser aquel personaje que nos propone desde la página 1 y se dedica a importunarnos con sus opiniones estúpidas, la novela se convierte en un sancocho indigerible, una diarrea mental estrepitosa de la cual yo debía tomar distancia cada veintena de páginas para no sentirme saturado ante la cantaleta de aquel vejete solitario, a quien imagino sentando en una mecedora, sacudiendo el puño al aire mientras a su alrededor el mundo cambia.

A pesar de este estilo gastado hasta el cansancio, Vallejo sin embargo ha cambiado un poco, y creo yo que ha cambiado para mal. Su prosa es descuidada, brinca de un lado para otro sin llegar a un punto. Vallejo además no muestra, sólo nos cuenta todo lo que ha hecho este memorialista loco, o lo que dice haber hecho. Hay un par de chispazos, pero también apartados tan desgraciados que dan pena. Un caso que merece atención especial es cuando suelta su pluma y deja coger ríos de tinta contra los médicos por matasanos, o cuando se atreve a afirmar que el SIDA es una enfermedad inexistente para hacerle dinero a las compañías farmacéuticas. De esta manera, Vallejo se une al pequeño grupo de intelectuales, con Foucault, que negaron la existencia del VIH. Sería interesante que Vallejo muriera de la misma manera que el pensador francés, víctima de una enfermedad a la cual se atrevió a negar sin poseer conocimientos médicos. 

En conclusión, creo que leer a Vallejo es un retroceso para un aspirante a escritor. Su prosa se ha tornado en una verborrea pestilente, sin ruta a seguir. Da tumbos como un borracho senil intentado levantarse un domingo al mediodía para buscar sus calzones. Vallejo estos días da pena, lo único que queda de aquel brillante escritor de "El desbarrancadero" es su humor jocoso y cruel y esos pequeñísimos pasajes que se quedan en la memoria y que valdría la pena recrearlos. Entre ellos me quedo con la página 51, en la que fusila a los cuatro más grandes hijueputas que ocuparon la presidencia antes de que un golpe militar catapultara al poder al tirano loco que dice ser el "dictador" de estas memorias. "Y ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta...Fueron cayendo y de hijueputas los cuatro pasaron a cadáveres" dice de César Gaviria, Andrés Pastrana, Álvaro Uribe y Juan Manuel Santos. Sin embargo, no hay más que se pueda rescatar de su última novela. Incluso el lenguaje es descuidado y hay una selección de palabras bastante inapropiada y a veces extraña, supongo que ya nadie se atreve a editar a Vallejo como se solía hacerlo.  Una hijueputa pérdida de tiempo, con tantos libros para leer y tan poco tiempo, hay más de dónde escoger. Larga vida a Vallejo y su espíritu odioso y pedante. Un 2.0 de 5.0, por divertir a ratos.

A Song for Mother’s Day

What I think about “Bird Box” by Josh Malerman (click for a sneak peek)

Before becoming an international sensation inspiring a well-regarded film produced by Netflix, Josh Malerman was the lead singer and songwriter of an internationally unknown rock band called “High Strung”. I can affirm without a doubt that Bird Box is a love song, a song appropriate for the date: Mother’s Day. More than a horror story, Bird Box is an epic song about a mother and mother’s power of love overcoming a difficult world, a devastating reality to find a better place for their children. Mallorie is a real mother, an ass-kicker, the mother that everyone would have loved to have. I think that Sandra Bullock’s relationship with the children looked completely empty on the screen, she was just a figure of authority that the children obeyed because they did not want to be hurt. Malerman’s Malorie is more powerful, she is a semi-goddess entity, she goes beyond her own senses in order to give their children a safe spot, a safer place to grow and experience a bit of joy and hope. It is a shame that Netflix was not able to show us that, it may have to do with the medium, I guess.

I believe that this story suffers when it is shown as a film. It is a song, it is a fairy tale, it is better told with words, it is better told with a bit of tragic rock music played in the background, but on the screen, it lacks something that makes it powerful, that makes it notably strong and immersive. I have never been much of a film viewer, I admit. I learned to read stories and read them aloud when I wanted to feel the tension the protagonist was feeling, when I wanted to experience the horror the characters of the stories were passing through. This story works better in the paper, like many other stories. A couple of months ago, I heard a lot of complaints about One Hundred Years of Solitude being produced for television by Netflix. They commented on the impossibility of bringing the story to the screen, and the fact that it was going to be the version of the director, the writer and the people involved in the production.

Yet, this happens all the times. Sometimes with excellent results, sometimes with crappy awful outcomes. I am not saying that Netflix’s Bird Box is rubbish. I actually think it is an engaging story with a strong lead actress, but there were so many decisions that changed the way the story was narrated, that I believe affected how strongly I felt identified with Malorie. Malorie is a better person in Malerman’s little world. Malorie is a mother, a trainer, a leader, a fighter, maybe too heroic for the screen. She has got a fierce fight with wolves to protect the boat and continue their journey! A couple of close encounters with the creatures, very close and uncomfortable! A daring move to solve the mystery of who Gary is and why he seems to be acting all the time. There are a couple of things that were adapted better for the screen and make for a smoother audiovisual product. Malerman’s book is not perfect, but for a first published novel is as good as it gets. In addition, I found it for only $30, 000 Colombian pesitos at the FILBO in Bogotá. Highly recommended. 4.5 out of 5.0

EMBRACE AUTODIDACTICISM AND DROP SCHOOL

EMBRACE AUTODIDACTICISM AND DROP SCHOOL

A review of "The Case Against Education" by Bryan Caplan (Click here for a sneak peek)

I know it is kind of weird that a person like me, with more than six years of university studies, affirm that pursuing further studies is a complete waste of time and money, but this is exactly how I feel these days, and I think that for the very first time in my life I am completely sure about something. Most people should not go to university, and even for very good students, attending postgraduate school can end up being worthless. I am not against people who feel studying give them some kind of sense to their lives and valuable personal pursuit. I am just against those people who go to university and decide to take a course of studies because they see everyone else is doing the same. What is the point of going to university if you do not feel it is even the place where you are supposed to be? If by the end you will not get much of it? In addition, what if I told you that I am not the only person who feels that way. Professor Bryan Caplan believes that we should carefully re-evaluate the role of the university. He actually goes beyond and decides to go after high school as well. After all, there was so much content in school that we have not used since those days, and which did not prepare you in any way to post-graduate life.

In "The Case Against Education", Caplan states that we should be better off if we just had less of it. Most of the material that is considered important to instruct in high school and the university is completely useless and does not provide any valuable skills to the workers of the United States. I say the United States because Caplan analyses the case he is most familiar with, which is the education system in North America, taking advantage of his position as an economics professor. Defenders of humanities might argue that university was never thought to be a way of providing students with the skills they might be required in order to do a job, but we have to make sure that in the modern world, where lots of people seem to be rushing to college to get a degree in anything, (How many degrees are offered by universities these days, anyway?) the value of a college diploma has fallen deeply and we seem to have lost the high standards that were required of any student, to be granted their degree.

I am an English language instructor at a university in Bogotá, and I have been an eyewitness of these phenomena. Classrooms are packed with unmotivated students who are eternally bored and do not see a point in anything. Whenever I have a frank chat with them, I notice that most of them have no idea about what they want for their lives. They just enter a university because that was what was expected. Finish school, go to college, pay prohibitive amounts of money to get a piece of paper that says that you may be qualified for a job you will have no idea about how to do until you start doing it. I think I am not exactly against education though, but against the schooling system itself, and the way it has turned into another gold digger for the big capitalist.

Caplan believes that most of us would be better off if subsidies for education were completely dismounted and we encouraged a big percentage of the population to go to a vocational school. After all, only a small percentage of the population will really use what they are being taught in the classrooms these days.  He believes that there is an excessive emphasis in intellectualism in most university courses and that the whole concept of attending school for another three or four extra years (in Colombia it can even be five) is a waste of money and time. I think the same way. Don't misunderstand me. I believe in education. I believe that it can actually liberate you or at least it can turn you into a smarter person. However, I also believe that just two out of ten people (this figure can actually be smaller) are college material, and even these highly intelligent people might not get much out of post-graduate training. Knowledge is no longer out of your reach. There is a wide range of resources on the web and in public libraries. You no longer need to pay abusive amounts of money to learn something you feel passionate about. I embrace Caplan's view on the case against formal education, but at the same time, I celebrate the freedom to be an autodidact and make the most out of the rich access to the information we have got these days. I invite everyone to use the web to do more useful things than just checking social networks. Learning what you never learnt in school and focusing on your passions can be a positive step towards that kind of education you have been chasing since that very first moment you decided you needed more education, but less school.

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE WANT SOMETHING SO MUCH, WE DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE CONSEQUENCES?

Click for a sneak peek inside the novel

Sometimes we cannot accept fate, so we feel it is better to break the rules and do the things in our own way, especially if by breaking those rules we get rid of pain and bring a bit of comfort and relief to our hearts. Pet Sematary is the perfect horror story in the sense that it sounds so close, so true to ourselves and to the fact that we humans are not as strong as we think. Our sanity is bound by weak chain links and the equilibrium we think we might have been able to reach by any point of our lives is just mere illusion, it can be broken down in a matter of seconds. We are dragged by fate more than what we think, and any stupid decision we make can have severe consequences that can ruin the lives of the people we care most. I think this is what makes this story so horrifying.

Most people disregard Stephen King as one of the most important writers of our times, but I do believe King is one of the most successful story-tellers of our generation. A guy that just through words can make you feel a weird mix of emotions that allow you to really connect and care for his characters. If Bob Dylan got a Nobel Prize for writing music that went deep inside people’s souls, I believe King should be given an award for being able to shock our own souls and make us feel the anguish that characters like Louis Creed experiments through this gripping story. This is one of the finest works by Stephen King, one clear example of why he is considered the true master of horror and a fantastic example of how to build a believable protagonist with all his flaws and strengths.

Although some readers may find King’s style in this novel a bit slow, I think the pace here is necessary to build a convincing background for the story. To build a set of characters we really care for and feel identified with. I do not know if it is the fact that Louis Creed is exactly my age or the fact he has got two young children, but at times I saw myself as Lou; that guy who thinks he is strong enough but ends up being so weak he commits the same awful mistake twice. In the end, he completely sinks into insanity. The epilogue leaves us more questions than answers but this does not matter, because by the time you have reached the end, you have enjoyed the journey and you know that King has done it all once again. He has been able to exceed your expectations and fool you as he usually does. He almost never bores and he usually complies because he is the master of horror, and this is, without doubt, one of his finest works.

LA GRAN INCÓGNITA DE LOS TRES CUERPOS

Dale click para echar un vistazo al interior del libro

Por recomendación de Miranda Wiklund, descargué “El problema de los tres cuerpos” en mi Kindle, aunque no logré terminar de leerlo en el Kindle debido a que mi lectura la realizo mucho en el transporte público y sacar un aparato electrónico en el transporte bogotano es como colgarse un cartel del cuello que diga “róbame”. Así que me fui a la Gran Manzana y adquirí la novela original por un poco más de cuarenta mil pesos y la terminé en menos de dos semanas. Lo más importante que puede decirse en cuanto a este libro es que la trama es sumamente interesante y enrevesada. Cixin Liu te lleva por un viaje a través de la historia china y la física de nuestra civilización, para terminar advirtiéndonos sobre una amenaza invasora desde una sociedad sospechosamente cercana a la nuestra. La historia es sumamente original y no le sobra una sola página. Toda la información que nos da el autor es absolutamente esencial para comprender la historia, lo cual es un logro impresionante en una novela que alcanza las cuatrocientas ocho páginas.

Sin embargo, no hay novela perfecta y por lo tanto voy a empezar a enumerar algunos de los detalles que considero no son lo suficientemente sólidos. Esto por supuesto no quiere decir que considero “El problema de los tres cuerpos” una novela mala. Al contrario, si ganó el premio Hugo a mejor novela de ciencia ficción es porque el autor lo tenía más que merecido. La estructura de la novela es muy arriesgada pero única, no recuerdo haber leído algo exactamente igual al “problema de los tres cuerpos” antes. Es una gran apuesta del autor y de los editores. Además, creo que el primer volumen de la trilogía prepara el terreno para los dos siguientes libros adecuadamente. Es probable que éste sea un gran pero para muchos, porque la mayoría de los lectores esperan que una historia sea redonda y nos cuente un inicio, un nudo y un final. Esto no pasa en “El problema de los tres cuerpos”. Cuando se llega al final de la historia, sabemos que ese sólo ha sido el comienzo y que muy probablemente los personajes con los cuales logramos identificarnos, no estarán en la siguiente entrega (esta información la puedo sostener a partir del hecho de que ignoro completamente lo que pasa en las siguientes dos entregas).

Y los personajes son creo yo el aspecto con el cual más tuve encontronazos en la novela. Para un amante de la literatura como yo, un sinónimo de escritura especulativa de ficción es la creación y el desarrollo de los personajes, pero en esta novela, tuve la impresión de qué aunque los personajes no son planos, son elementos dispuestos para contar la trama, para lograr que ésta avance y que el autor nos siga contando más al respecto. Los personajes no son agentes de cambio. Son a veces vagos y etéreos, los únicos dos que pude imaginar claramente en mi cabeza fueron el profesor Wang y el sabueso Shi Qiang. Aunque el resto del elenco es numeroso y a veces Cixin Liu se queda con ellos para contarnos algo importante, tenemos la sensación de que pudieron haber sido otros y la sucesión de hechos no se habría visto afectada en lo más mínimo. Los personajes en esta historia son meras fichas en un juego de Risk.

“El problema de los tres cuerpos” es además una novela que requiere un alto grado de concentración de los lectores. Su estilo es bastante llano, tal vez podríamos decir que la prosa es escueta y carente de todo tipo de lirismo. Esto sin embargo se hace necesario, porque este libro es un libro de ciencia, donde refresqué mucho de los conceptos que un día hace muchos años aprendí en mis clases de física y en mis charlas con Miller Mendoza. Estas características lo convierten en una novela no apta para todo el mundo, una novela que sin duda disfrutarán más los adeptos a la ciencia ficción dura tipo Arthur C. Clarke. La narrativa no es bonita, pero tampoco pretenciosa. Desde un principio, Cixin Liu, pone las reglas del juego sobre la mesa y estoy seguro de que ningún otro escritor hubiera podido contar esta historia de la manera tan satisfactoria como él lo ha hecho. Al final hay un “cliffhanger” del tamaño de una montaña que tal vez irrite a unos cuantos, pero que a mi personalmente me dejó intrigado sobre las posibilidades para lo que será mi lectura de “El Bosque Oscuro”. Un muy merecido 8.5 de 10.

Not a Horror Cuckoo, but a Sci-fi Tale with a Moral Dilemma

Click for a sneak peek on The Midwich Cuckoos.

Having watched the two film versions, when I looked for the novel that had inspired the horror classic tale of the kids with the shining eyes that oblige the inhabitants of Midwich to kill themselves, I was surprised by the type of story I found. I was expecting an action-packed novel with a more elaborate insight on the origins of the "cuckoos", but by the time I had approached the end, I actually had more questions than answers. The story does not concentrate on the origin of the children and their clash with the inhabitants of the village. They play an important role, but more importantly than that is the moral dilemma the people from Midwich have in their interactions with anthropomorphic beings that are clearly not their offsprings, but that were brought in the villagers' homes.

The children do not even act like children, they are highly intellectual machines with the ability to control minds, especially when they feel threatened. Yet, they seem to overreact and have no sense of compassion, which earns them enemies that try to stop them at any costs. In the novel, a few prominent characters who play the role of the voice of reason, discuss the way they can solve the problem with the "cuckoos". They are aware that in a more primitive society, in this case, Innuits, the children and their surrogate mothers were exterminated when the kids were just newborn babies vulnerable to physical attacks. The Innuits justified the attack by judging the children as a product of physical contact with demons. In the communist Russia, where the state's welfare must prevail over any individual's wellness, the whole village, which is mentioned to be at least twice more populated than Midwich, is destroyed with heavy armaments to make sure that no "cuckoo" was able to survive and control more minds.

Zellaby, our most prevalent voice of reason, makes the decision to give an end to the moral dilemma of ending the life of the children, by taking advantage of the respect they seemed to have for his ability as an interesting lecturer. The story is more or less similar when we compare the film versions with the novel, but the novel lacks the spectacularity of a few images present in both film versions. Most times everything is told in the first person and the actions taking place just seem to be narrated as if they had happened a couple of weeks before. There is even a discussion on the right minorities have to live and prosper when they settle in already-established communities. The Midwich Cuckoos is a classic sci-fi story that I feel glad I read in order to go deeper on the spectacularity of seeing a bunch of kids manipulating the minds of simpleton villagers. I should write a sequel that takes into account the prevalent questions of minorities' rights and migration, which are paramount in our modern world.

STARDUST: A FALLEN STAR DISAPPOINTMENT

The used copy I got at La Gran Manzana for only $ 15,000 pesitos.

It could have been a lot better, but in the end, fell flat on Earth.

When Neil Gaiman is at his best his prose is exhilarating and engaging, but it was not the case with Stardust. There were so many wonderful things that were supposed to happen in this novel that were simply overlooked and ignored. I am sure that Gaiman had a fantastic story he had planned to tell us, but in the end, he produced this flat monotone which I consider a disappointment. I will not dare say it was a bad book, but it was far from being a good one. By the time I finished reading the last line of Stardust I was already forgetting the plot as well as the main characters. There is not much depth in them, and the ending has no climax whatsoever. If there is a piece of work by Gaiman that is highly overrated, it is Stardust.

I am aware there is a film version which actually helped cement the reputation of the novel, but in these lines, I am going to refer solely to the novel. If you have never read it, and you have got the intention to do so, be warned right now: spoilers alert. I love Gaiman as an author and teacher. He has got fantastic ideas to motivate you to start writing, but this novel felt particularly flat as though he had never wanted to pen it down. The hero is unlikeable and the love story never caught me. It seems to be Gaiman had planned to do lots of stuff, but in the end, he just gave us a few insights into what a great fantasy novel could have sounded.

In the edition I got (luckily an old pre-owned copy I bought at "La Gran Manzana" in Bogotá for only $ 15,000 pesos) there was a page count of 250 words that actually felt like being shorter, due to the fact there was actually a bit too much room between lines. Although the word count seems to be more than enough to tell a compelling story. Gaiman included so many elements that were rushed so awfully, that I felt the story could have improved with a few more pages. Everything seemed to be ethereal. Despite the journey feeling magnificent, and the main reason to read the novel, all the events and the characters we encounter in the story are not given enough depth and background to care for them.

I am usually a highly-focused reader who can concentrate easily on long passages of prose, but Stardust was the type of novel where everything jumps from point A to point B without much warning. I found myself going back in the text repeatedly to find out what had just happened. Lots of characters' motivations or importance are jotted down in a few lines, and except for Tristran and Yvaine, we cannot make ourselves a clear picture of who everyone is.

This novel was written as a fantasy story for teenagers and children. I have always thought this type of readers are extremely hard to please and want to be entertained throughout their journey with a book. I wondered if this novel was able to succeed in accomplishing that. I believe it was not able to do so. the copy I got in La Gran Manzana must have surely belonged to a schoolgirl who thought it was better to get a few pesos back from her original investment, instead of keeping a copy in her personal bookshelf. She could not feel much love for this novel, as I could not feel identified with the way Gaiman wasted a gorgeous set of characters and events to tell us a flat forgettable and frankly boring story. Unfortunately, this has been the worst book I have read this year. If I were ranking my reading with a star system, this would have barely been granted two stars for at least trying hard, but failing flatly.  

A Tour Around the USA with a Likeable Demigod

Click for a sneak peek of the novel.

Shadow loses his real name in the search for a second chance, in the vigil he makes for his deceased father and employer, and we never get to really learn his actual name, but that does not really matter, anyway. American Gods is everything a novel has to be in order to be believable and beloved. It might sound like not a great deed these times, but Gaiman dares found new mythology and start a war between the old Gods and the new ones, which impersonate all the raw sins of modern and early days. He manages to do this masterfully and during that process, he takes us through this frenetic roller-coaster hand in hand with a guy called “Shadow”, who ends up being the only heir of Odin in America. It is an ambitious engaging novel that despite its complexity, can be summarized in a few words: a journey; a search for our place in the world, for our true mission.

Shadow is a recently-released convict who is allowed to leave prison a bit earlier due to the tragic deaths of his wife and his best friend. On the way home, a mysterious old man with a glass eye proposes him a job that he ends up accepting. He ends up finding out that his wife died with his best friend’s cock in her mouth. While he tries to reunite with his new employer, he engages in a brief fight with the biggest dwarf in the world, an Irish drunk who accidentally gives him a magical silver dollar. Additionally, he is threatened by a psychotic fat boy in a limousine. Both of these characters warn him to be wary with his employer, Wednesday, an old charming man with a crazy addiction for bedding barely legal blondes. His dead wife pays him a visit that very same night, and he discovers that she has come back to make it up for him and protect him from the new gods who want to clear him out of the way. This is just the very first two hundred and fifty pages of the novel, and then the journey to convince other old gods of joining them on their struggle with the new gods continues almost nonstop.

American Gods is a very skillful suspense fantasy yarn with an ending that surprises everyone, but that makes perfect sense. There are plenty of passages with exhilarating fragments of highly imaginative mythology. In the process, Gaiman manages to take us on a tour around the United States, its people, their way of living and even the way they talk. Consumerism, capitalism and the media-saturated environment are captured in this masterpiece, as well. American Gods is a one-of-a-kind story, but not exactly the easiest to read; therefore, I would only recommend it for whom I consider mature readers. I guess you might wonder what a mature reader is, and I would dare define them as the kind of critical readers who can do the most of his reading and writing and use his background knowledge to make sense of the real and the fictional world and embrace a story as if it were their own.  All in all, American Gods is a must-read for all fans of storytelling and fantasy. A masterpiece from one of the best narrators of our times.

Cat’s Cradle: One of the weirdest sci-fi (?) novels I have ever read

Click here if you want to read a sample of the novel

This one was my second approximation to Vonnegut’s literature, but the first time I obliged myself to read a full novel by him; though I consider it a novella, due to the fact there are barely two hundred pages and more than one hundred and twenty chapters, something completely unexpected in a story of this nature. However, too many things seem to happen in the novel. Vonnegut takes us on this weird roller-coaster from one place to another, from the United States to a fictional island called San Lorenzo ruled by a dictator who threatens his people with a giant hook. The whole cast of this crazy infernal tale seems to be composed by characters from a circus: scientists, journalists, retired marines, people who are obsessed with finding a bond with others and a too-perfect woman who feels she belongs to everyone else. Yet, we can affirm Cat’s Cradle is an apology to human stupidity, an allegory to the missile crisis between Cuba and the United States and a reflection on the perils of the Cold War.

Our hero is an everyman who becomes extremely interested in knowing more about the life of the scientist considered the father of the atomic bomb: Felix Hoenikker (of course a fictional character), so he contacts his children to know more about their father’s role in the ending of Second World War and what he was like. He realizes the Hoenikkers are a set of fantastic characters that look like taken from a fairy tale story: a midget who wanted to be a medical doctor, a very tall dull blonde who had to be the mother of his brothers and his own father, and a nerdy character who despite his lack of qualifications get an important government job in the island of San Lorenzo.

Later in the story, we realize that there is more than meets the eye, such as the existence of a very dangerous substance called Ice Nine that has got the power to freeze almost everything that comes in contact with it, and a religion called Bokononism devised by an ethereal character who appears in the aftermath of catastrophe.

In the end, everything is desolation and we humans have caused our own sad demise. Cat’s Cradle seems to be a story of hopelessness and desperation, but at the same time, is a satire full of funny jokes and some others that I would not consider any humorous, at all. Cat’s Cradle is a hard novel to read. The story develops quickly, in a rush, but at the same time it seems to be too slow for my liking due to the fact there are major characters in the novel that do not appear until the very end.

Cat’s Cradle is not the kind of story I would recommend everyone, you must absolutely be a very reflective reader to make the most out of it. By the time the novel reaches its end, we are not so sure about what has just happened. We are not even sure if it was worthy spending a couple of hours going through it. Vonnegut’s style is not exactly what I would call my cup of tea. I have always been more of a Philip K. Dick’s fan, possibly because Dick tends to be a bit more visual, but at the same time elaborate in the worlds he created. Anyway, this novel is considered a classic in the catalogue of the most important stories of science fiction, and I was fortunate enough to pay for a cute paperback edition published by Penguin. Now I have got to find something interesting to read. American Gods or the second volume of Dreamsongs? Eenie meenie miney mo…

Is football and alcohol our own soma?

Clcik here to enjoy the very first pages of this novel

Soma, the comforting drug that the civilization from "Brave New World"  consumes on a regular basis to overcome depression, to vanquish the blueness that we all experience for the mere sake of having to exist. Though there is not much need of it because anyway, every inhabitant of this happy world have been conditioned to accept their life without resenting it. They know their place in the world and they do not aspire for anything else, because everyone is an important grind in the mechanism; even the semi-moronic midgets from the lowest caste: the Epsilons. Everyone does their job for seven hours and a half every single day, and then spend the rest of their lives engaged in mindless sexual activities and all types of entertainment. Everybody is always surrounded by members of their own class, fearing solitude, because being alone is dangerous; being alone is an opportunity for thinking, and thinking is not desirable in this perfect society.

"Brave New World" is a classic. It is one of the three greatest dystopian novels written in the 20th century and the one that sounds truer to our eyes and ears these days, though it was actually the first one to appear. The other two dystopias I am talking about here are "Fahrenheit 451" by Ray Bradbury and "1984" by George Orwell. "Brave New World" tackles the topic of totalitarianism, but it does it in a rather subtle way, one we can actually identify with our reality. Most people feel the world is perfect the way it is and think our mission is just to be happy, but what is happiness anyway? If happiness is doping yourself with soma and surrounding yourself with people just because it is unbearable to be alone, then I guess I might not be too happy in this "civilized" society. "Brave New World" explores the negative aspects of an ostensibly successful and stable civilization in which everyone appears to be content and satisfied. However, this stability and happiness have caused humanity its ability to be critical and self-contemplate. It is a brave new mediocre world in which everything is done for the mere sake of keeping the world the way it is, forever.

This is the perfect book for a technophobe like me. A book that explores the dangers of technology and mass-production. Technology does not have the power to save us all especially if it distracts us from what is really important. I am not saying that we all now have to renounce to our most precious belongings and embrace a life of contemplation in a mountain far away from the biggest urbanizations. I just want to emphasize that if we want to survive as a species, it is important to be self-critical and develop the capacity to contemplate and understand what we are living through. This "Brave New World", title taken from Shakespeare's masterpiece The Tempest, is a world with no conscience, a world in which we all are supposed to be equal, where humans are mass-produced like electronic appliances in a factory. Human creation is based on eugenics and embryos are separated into different castes since their inception. There are no mothers, no fathers, no families, no Gods, everyone belongs to everyone else, supposedly. However, in the end; all castes are just minor pieces in the machinery, they are just "another brick in the wall", powerless in a society that does not want to change. Although, there are no political parties, or an omniscience big brother like in 1984, the way of controlling the population in "Brave New World" is actually more intrusive. Since humans are embryos, they are destined to play a role and conditioned to say and "think" (if there is any thinking remaining) what they are expected to do. Almost no one protests, because everyone accepts their role diligently and when they feel down and frustrated, there is always going to be soma to make them feel better.

"Brave New World" rings a bell in me and makes me think of the modern world where we live in. At times I wonder if the same strategies used for the characters in the novel are used with us, too. After all, the alarm clock buzzes early in the morning and we all rush to our jobs without giving much thought to what we are doing. At work, you know you have to be smart, but not too smart because that would actually be counterproductive. We have to learn to accept our role in life and if we feel too frustrated by the end of the week, there is always going to be booze, and women or men, and all kinds of mindless entertainment to keep us distracted, to show us that life is still worth living and that we all (or at least most of us) should feel thankful for our situation. God has been good to us, some even dare say. We have to be thankful because we have got a job and we are doing something useful. Therefore, most of us learn to pretend. We all play the game of doing something meaningful, "for the good of mankind" we boast; yet we do not really stop to think for a while, because thinking is too tiring, too boring, and too dangerous for our own good.

In conclusion, "Brave New World" is the kind of novel you will enjoy and re-read if you feel there must be more to life, if you believe there is something inherently wrong with the system. It will provide you with a moment of reflection to think who we are and what our purpose in this Brave New World of our own is. Colombia usually appears in the top ten list of happiest countries of the world. A country where most people lack the basic needs, but you will always see people content, smiling, with a (literally and figuratively) broken smile in their faces. You just have to experience the unbearable lightness of Colombians' joy to understand the stupefying state of happiness in which we all live. Bogotá is a big party on Fridays and people drink as if there were no tomorrow. A few miserable beggars come down from the poorest slums in Bogotá to flood the stadium every weekend and engage in a ritualistic fight with the supporters of the enemy team. They proudly scream at the top of their lungs, bragging their love for a piece of cloth representing a football club. Whenever I have to see all these clownish representations of happiness, I cannot stop thinking that all this insanity is our version of soma, and its power on us and the way we perceive ourselves and our miserable land is omnipotent, eternal, mindless.

The Very best of Fantasy and Science Fiction Volume 2

Click here for a sneak peek of The Very Best of Fantasy...

A weird compilation without much selection criteria though with a few wonderful treasures. The end of the collection is a magnificent wrap-up with an engaging fantasy of mix-raced issues, and that everlasting love of a mother for his son. A true tear-jerker that deserved all the awards it got for its author. There was a bonus story by Stephen King that was really compelling, though it lacked the quality he gave to the last collection of stories I read from him entitled "Bazaar of the Bad Dreams". I had to fight boredom and lack of concentration to finish the book, but luckily, I was able to enjoy reading once more. I thought the holidays were going to get in the middle of my love for the written word. However, real love is forever, I guess. Best stories in this volume: "The Anything Box", "Green Magic" (outstanding), "The Attack of the Giant Baby", "The Hundredth Dove", "The Aliens who Knew I Mean, Everything", "The Bone Woman" and of course "Paper Menagerie" by Chinese-American author Ken Liu.

You can't be careful on a skateboard. My view on "It"

Click here for a short preview

"You can't be careful on a skateboard", says a random kid to our hero Stuttering Bill, and we feel this could be the motto of the author in "It". I read it in somehow record time (less than three weeks) for such a long novel ( more than 1100 pages in my Kindle). I went fast like Bill and Eds on Silver, enjoying the wild twists and somehow trying to believe the implausible explanation for the existence of a weird dancing clown (only one of It's many shapes) who likes feeding on children and their dreams. I got back to my childhood because every small town must feel a bit like the fictional Derry. Horrible things can happen in small places and most people will remain quiet. Yet, there's always going to be a story-teller to record what must be kept to preserve the memory of the past and to enlighten and guide future generations. "It" is a horror novel, sure it is, but it is also a coming-of-age tale, a love story, a story of realisation and finally the importance of memories, of remembrances; not only of the bad times, but also those ancient moments lost in our brain, in which we believed in magic. Those times when things could come true with a bit of imagination.

Dreamsongs Volume 1

Click on this link to read the very first pages of Dreamsongs

Dreamsongs is a collection of short stories and novellas written by George R.R. Martin, during a period of more than twenty years, starting with his very first story ever published. The quality of the stories varies dramatically, and by parts four and five of the book,  we can see the evolution of the author who hooked us all with the magnificent struggle between powerful families struggling for the power in Westeros.

His work is at times a bit wordy and messy. However, some stories succeed in showing us the fantastic world Martin has been creating since the age of 23. It has almost been fifty years now and he has not stopped writing. All his fans hope he does not stop any time soon because we still need to see the real ending for the saga of Ice and Fire. Yes, we all know that HBO's Game of Thrones is concluding this year, and I am really looking forward to catching a glimpse of perhaps one of the most important television events of the year. Nevertheless, for the compulsive readers who "took a course on Westeros" and who have been expectant for the real ending of this rather unnecessarily intricate story, a book written by the author telling us "this is the end" is what we do really need to overcome the hangover of waiting for so long.

Highly recommendable: "The Monkey Treatment", an extremely weird story that Martin had actually lots of problems trying to sell, but that F&SF bought happily and turned into one of its most popular tales ever to have appeared on its pages. If you are very into space horror and aliens, "Nightflyers" is a must-read.   Another novella that still resonates in my head is "Sandkings", a tale of a cruel human who turns his dangerous pets into monsters, for the mere sake of feeling like an almighty God.

Martin explores three different genres and sometimes he overlaps them: Fantasy, Sci-fi and Horror. Especially in his very first short stories published, his characters and language resemble the serialised pulp-look of graphic novels. He even created a character which seemed to be a combination between Dr Who and Dr Strange, I do not really know if those two characters served as inspiration for the short-lived hero devised by Martin. In addition, he created an iconic mythological creature that we could see in the last episode of Game of Thrones: "The Ice Dragon". This is another must-read for the legions of fans that fantasy has gained in the last twenty years due to their infesting presence in popular culture.

Martin is the real American Tolkien. He actually has more fluent prose than the British professor, and at times you can actually feel you are able to see what he is describing. He is engaging and smart without being illegible. Martin is an author who can take you through more than 1000 pages per book without killing you with boredom.  I really do not know if I will continue reading Martin, and will grab Dreamsongs Volume 2 (the first volume almost hit the 700-page tally), but I do know I am dying to read the last two volumes of "A Song of Ice and Fire" and finally know what is going to happen in Westeros. I really do not want to acquiesce to the ending that HBO will provide to the story. I hope there is more hope for my favourite characters, though you never know with George R.R. Martin. Dreamsongs Volume I is highly recommended if you are into fantasy, horror and sci-fi. If you are not a very good fantasy fan though, there are lots of books for you out there. Life is too short and unfortunately, most of us have to work dead-end jobs. Teaching has become so tiresome these days. I can barely stand it.