No please, I insist: allow me to put myself out of my own damn misery.
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#repetitive, #infodumps, #shallow w Oh my aching, bloodydamn, gory balls!!
No please, I insist: allow me to put myself out of my own damn misery.
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#repetitive, #infodumps, #shallow world-building, #repetitive, #show don't tell, #horrible characters, #repetitive, #stupid lingo, #boring, #made me want to hurt myself, #made me want to hurt somebody else #and this won an award? #you suck but not as much as this book, #when good ideas go very bad, #maybe i'm just bitter #am i drunk? #i wish i was drunk...more
"It's not like my mother is a maniac or a raving thing. She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?" ~Norman
"It's not like my mother is a maniac or a raving thing. She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?" ~Norman Bates, Psycho (1960)
***Note: the following review contains spoilers for the films Psycho, Carrie, and Friday the 13th.
I've had this slim volume by film critic David Thomson on my currently reading shelf for months and it was high time to finish it, or abandon it. I finished it...barely.
Psycho is one of my favorite movies for a thousand reasons, including all of the fascinating stories that surround the mythology of how it was shot, Hitchcock's battle with Hollywood censors, his genius marketing plan, and the film's subsequent shell-shocking and titillation of 1960 movie audiences. So when a book like this promises to show me the moment of Psycho and how its director taught America to love murder, I'm there. The only thing that rivals talking about the movie itself for me, is talking about the cultural Zeitgeist in which it was made and received.
Thomson's thesis in an ambitious and exciting one. His book, on the other hand, is a wishy-washy example of intellectual masturbation that goes nowhere and proves nothing. Dare I say he comes off as an idiot quite frankly, full of sound and fury, in a treatise absent of any real meaning or value. He has added zero new to the debate on Hitchcock's films, or Psycho in particular.
This slim volume is less than 200 pages long and reads more like a series of short essays for somebody's film blog rather than a serious book by a world-renowned film critic. The first fifty pages are literally almost a scene-by-scene recitation of the entire movie with no analysis or context. What is the point of this exercise??? It strikes me as so self-indulgent in a short work that has a big thesis to prove.
Thomson is also very obsessed with the first 40 minutes of the film - right up to the infamous shower scene. Post Marion's murder, for him the movie unravels and pales in comparison to the first half. For me, Psycho works as an organic whole, a symphony of screeching violins and Hitchcock's masterful sleight of hand. Hitchcock wants us positioned just so on the rug for maximum effect when he pulls it out from underneath us. This requires the effort of the entire movie, not merely the first 40 minutes, no matter how well set up.
In fact, one of my favorite moments in the film comes after the shower scene, when Norman performs his frantic, largely silent clean-up that features the slow sinking of Marion's car into the dark swamp. I love that moment when the car pauses and stops sinking. We're surprised to discover that we want Norman to succeed in the cover-up. We feel bad for him, with his lonely life and his crazy mother. Now with Marion out of the picture, he has become the character who we identify with the most. We are being manipulated for the big reveal. It's crucial the audience feels something for Norman, and while the first 40 minutes are critical, to assess the rest of the film as weak and untethered is unimaginable to me.
One of the most interesting aspects of Psycho is how it was marketed. Hitchcock's lengthy teaser trailer was unheard of at the time, as was his explicit directive that no audience member be allowed into the movie once it had begun. Studio exec Lew Wasserman argued for big simultaneous openings in LA and New York, quickly followed by the widest possible release, also unheard of at the time. It's interesting to note that it would be Wasserman, some 15 years later, who would finally succeed in his bid for nationwide release with Jaws, the first ever summer blockbuster that opened simultaneously in 400 theaters. None of this interests Thomson however, and his discussion of these matters takes up a measly, utterly disappointing five pages.
The chapter I was most keen to read is entitled, "Other Bodies in the Swamp" (great title!) Here, Thomson's thesis is to examine "the spreading influence [Psycho] exerted on other films, especially in the treatment of sex and violence." It's territory that's been trampled to death, for if you look hard enough you can see the long reach of Hitchcock just about everywhere in film. But here is a seasoned film critic who specifically wants to single out Psycho and measure its long shadow over contemporary movie-making. I can get on board with that.
This is the weakest and most pathetic chapter (second only to the weirdly included, Kerouacian chapter on driving America's highways and stopping at small motels along the way). Thomson's analyses of the films he selects are ridiculously superficial not to mention rife with spoilers, which should always come with a warning. He includes John Carpenter's Halloween (1978) when Sean S. Cunningham's Friday the 13th (1980) is Psycho in reverse - it's not the son who is doing all the killing, it's the mom!!! He also tries to make a case for Kubrick's The Shining (1980) when anyone with a lick of sense knows it's DePalma's Carrie (1976) that has Psycho all over it, from the opening shower scene, the cheekily named Bates High School, the crazy, overbearing mother, and Psycho's four note violin theme making repeated appearances.
Where we really see Hitchcock's influence on DePalma's film-making style at work is in the treatment of voyeurism. Hitchcock was all about voyeurism, not just for his characters, but for his audience. What are you doing when you go to a movie? You are engaging in the ultimate act of voyeurism. In Psycho, we spy on Norman spying on Marion through a hole in the wall. In Carrie, we spy on Chris and Billy as they hide under the stage and wait for the perfect moment to drop the bucket of pig's blood. We watch Sue Snell's expression as she traces the rope to its final destination. Her eyes become our eyes, just as our eyes became Norman's during his spying of Marion. It's a shifting of guilt and a kind of audience culpability that Hitchcock mastered.
This is such a lame excuse for a book that I'm embarrassed for it. I cannot speak for the author's other works. I'm sure his sizable reputation in the field contributed to this "grocery list" being published in the first place. It should not have been. It is a waste of paper and the reader's time. It doesn't even come close to proving that Alfred Hitchcock taught America to love murder, nor does it even try to. Save your time and your money. Watch the movie instead. You and your friends will come up with way more interesting things to say about it than this guy does here. ...more
I can dig weird. I can dig really weird and fucked up to boot. But it doesn't happen a lot. Weird usually only works for me if it's scary, head-trippy I can dig weird. I can dig really weird and fucked up to boot. But it doesn't happen a lot. Weird usually only works for me if it's scary, head-trippy, and ultimately satisfying. I experienced none of that with Gray's Threats. The prose feels heavy and overwrought -- pretentious even -- weird for the sake of being weird. What is this story even about? A grieving husband? Sort of. His delusions? His mental illness? Is the odd behavior of everyone around him really happening, or is it a part of his psychosis? Is he even psychotic?
(view spoiler)[What about his wife???? What about his goddamn wife? What am I supposed to do with that ending? Is she even dead? Did she write the notes? Was she crazy too? Why were other people seeing her (like Aileen?) Or were all these people a figment of David's imagination? (hide spoiler)]
I don't mind when writers keep me in the dark shadows and dusty corners of a book, maintaining an off-kilter sort of dreamlike experience for the reader, but as such they better have a plan, an ultimate point, a significant final destination that's going to scratch that maddening itch that's tormented me for the duration. This doesn't mean I expect all loose ends tied up in a neat little bow. I'm okay with a little ambiguity, but for chrissake, give me something to hang my hat on, or what's the point of going on this journey in the first place?
Ironically, this story really drew me in at first. The imagery, the cloying atmosphere, it all felt portent of something big. Instead, it quickly descends into a lot of sloppy foreplay that ultimately goes nowhere. My excitement level did not peak, and there was no big "O" moment.
Here is where I will say I am simply not the book's intended audience. If you like your narrative fiction more on the experimental side, that deals in a lot of dreamlike, metaphorical language, you could really dig it. It's possible. Not this gal though. This gal feels ripped off. ...more
I'm actually shocked by how utterly and completely this book frustrated and bored the hell out of me, how crushingly disappointed I am by t* 1/2 stars
I'm actually shocked by how utterly and completely this book frustrated and bored the hell out of me, how crushingly disappointed I am by the whole affair. I mean, this is John Wyndham for Chrissake -- author of The Chrysalids and The Day of the Triffids (both of which are all levels of awesome).
This? This just pisses me off. It's made me want to make my Jules face -- yeah, I got one ... what of it?
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I mean, you have GOT to be fucking kidding me. How does such a fantastic idea in the hands of a gifted writer turn into such tepid, meandering ruminations on ethics, philosophy, the human condition and God himself. Rather than action or character development we are treated to long rambling speeches that go nowhere by characters we could care less about which add nothing to the story's drama nor our enjoyment of it.
The only reason this book didn't get slapped with one star is because it contains an awesome premise -- a staggering golden nugget of an idea alluded to in its clever title -- that has gone on to embed itself in popular culture influencing many authors and filmmakers since its original publication in 1957. The Children of Midwich are phenomenally creepy, the ramifications of their existence fraught with peril presenting a terrible, terrifying dilemma. I can dig that. British filmmakers dug that very thing and turned it into the unnerving and unforgettable classic Village of the Damned (1960).
Do yourself a favor -- skip the book, watch the movie. Now how many times in a life do you get to say that?
I'm sorry but bad, bad, baaaaad book. Way too much teen angst over "who should I choose?" -- the nice, safe boy? or the boy who makes my toes curl (anI'm sorry but bad, bad, baaaaad book. Way too much teen angst over "who should I choose?" -- the nice, safe boy? or the boy who makes my toes curl (and my genetically modified robot parts short out?)
Hmmmmm.... Do I care??? NO! Too much "telling" not enough "showing". Characters fall flat on the page, the tension is superficial, and the "dystopian" circumstances are a joke. Tepid, derivative teen romance packaged and sold as a futuristic dystopian drama. It is not.
Best thing about it is the cover. My advice: skip it and watch The Terminator movies....more
Meh for mediocre. Interesting premise but so dull in execution. By the time the big “reveal” rolled around, I was like, “seriously, that’s it?” Not reMeh for mediocre. Interesting premise but so dull in execution. By the time the big “reveal” rolled around, I was like, “seriously, that’s it?” Not recommended....more
I feel awfully sorry for anyone if this is their first (and only) introduction to Jamie and Claire and all that is Outlander awesomeness. What the hecI feel awfully sorry for anyone if this is their first (and only) introduction to Jamie and Claire and all that is Outlander awesomeness. What the heck was Gabaldon thinking???? I can't believe she's responsible for this hack job -- how or why would you hack yourself? I think it's supremely ironic for an author whose books are notably brick-length, to abridge her most accomplished novel and reduce it to such a fluffy, at times confused, unsatisfying read. Not only is it ironic, it's out and out tragic. A travesty I say!!!
And it's not just that there is so much left out, it's that the graphical representations of the main characters are so woefully ridiculous. In the novels, Claire is described as a "buxom" woman with a "shapely arse" - but since when does that imply a Triple D bust - she's got more boobage going on than Pam Anderson and Dolly Parton combined!! Jeesh.
My advice: skip this piece of shite and get the book. You will love it I promise. Even if you never read on in the series, read Outlander, one of the best pieces of historical fiction published in the last 20 years, a rip-roaring adventure, and a love story that will melt even the most cynical hearts. ...more
**spoiler alert** I feel like I must have missed something with this one because it just didn’t grab me; whereas my girlfriends have all given it four**spoiler alert** I feel like I must have missed something with this one because it just didn’t grab me; whereas my girlfriends have all given it four and five stars. I found it to be a bit of a slog and it took me way too long to finish. If it wasn’t for book club, I likely would have abandoned it and moved on to something else. A 2-star review posted here on goodreads argues: " Too much description of the unimportant things, not enough of the ones that affect the story." I couldn't agree more.
I felt Dinah’s first-person narrative voice to be long-winded and like any Biblical story worth its weight, over-occupied with who begat who. The first half of the book dedicated to Dinah’s four mothers and her plethora of brothers reads too much like a Bible story for me and I know that’s supposed to be the whole point, but I found the method off-putting. The excruciating details about the Red Tent and the trials and tribulations of women during this time should have been riveting, but instead, all the dense descriptive passages remained... well... excruciating.
Finally Dinah comes of age and the narrative picks up. I thought, at last! Now we’re getting somewhere. Unfortunately, the infamous events surrounding the tragic circumstances of Dinah's betrayal happen in the blink of an eye. It’s shocking, yes, but all too brief and rushed. It didn’t give me time to feel dread, empathy or real pain.
Dinah’s hateful brothers Simon and Levi are so very evil yet I never got a sense of the motivation behind their violent rampage. What fueled their rage and psychosis? I also didn’t buy Jacob’s descent into such a spiteful and degenerate character. Where did that come from? He began his life as such a warm and generous man, successful and honorable. Why did he transform into such a brute later in life? Following the slaughter in Shechem, the fate of Dinah’s mothers is described in a few pages of summary and I thought they deserved more than this.
I found the rest of Dinah’s story as it unfolds in Egypt anti-climatic. Even when her son is sent away to school and becomes a stranger to her doesn’t come across with any great emotion. The fact that Dinah finds her way back to midwifery is not surprising, and that she should find love late in her life is sweet, but the big shocking reveal of crossing paths with Joseph I found to be unsatisfying. That his story should have been filled with such betrayal, shame and violence – that he should have survived his family after being sold into slavery – this should have bonded he and Dinah together, but they remain estranged, and Joseph turns out to be extremely dislikable – shallow, conceited, power hungry. That disappointed me.
The only place in the novel that moved me was the death scene of Dinah’s best friend Meryt. As for the rest of the novel, I remained – like Dinah’s narrative voice – largely emotionless and detached. ...more
Not quite what I was expecting. Disappointing overall. Too many plot holes big enough to fly a 747 through. I'm very good at suspending disbelief; in Not quite what I was expecting. Disappointing overall. Too many plot holes big enough to fly a 747 through. I'm very good at suspending disbelief; in fact, I will go along with just about anything for as long as I can if I'm having a good time. But Briant's debut effort simply asked too much of me. My incredulity persisted, if anything becoming stronger as the novel neared its climax. I giggled towards the end because the "twist" shrieked "daytime soap opera". It was just too much. More in the SPOILER section.
Another thing that peeved me about this book is that the main protagonist is a “literary” author and the recipient of a Booker prize. Dermot Nolan has some serious misgivings about taking "horror schlock" seriously. He thinks it’s beneath him. Stephen King is mentioned numerous times, so is the reader supposed to draw the conclusion that King sacrificed writing "literature" to publish things that would sell? Take this quote on page 27:
"You sold three million copies and won a Booker. But Stephen King has sold a hundred times that number because he knows his market. If you want the respect and approbation of the literary community, go ahead and wait another ten years for suitable inspiration. In the meantime why not take a year off and write something less cerebral?"
Less cerebral?! I wonder how much Stephen King Briant has actually read himself? For King he is not. Not even close. Is this Briant’s own insecurity showing through about the genre he has chosen to write in? Deep down, does he resent that HE won’t ever receive a Booker? Well guess what Briant. I hate to break it to you man, but it’s not your choice of genre that’s the problem, rather your inadequate storytelling skills.
The premise for this book shows huge potential -- all the nuts and bolts are there for nail-biting suspense, and Briant achieves it in a few places, just not in enough places. The villain "Dream Healer" reminded me of John Doe (Kevin Spacey) from the David Fincher film Se7en and Jigsaw from the SAW franchise. I was also reminded of the Diane Lane film Untraceable. The problem is, this book isn’t nearly as strong as any of those movies.
Killing people as per their "worst nightmare" is clever, but Briant flubs the execution. The big reveal that Nick Hoyle is the Dream Healer was the biggest let-down. I was "underwhelmed" to say the least. Taking the perfect, supportive "best friend" and unmasking him as the mastermind behind all this horror is just weak. The only thing that would have made it worse is if Dermot’s wife had been in on it too. And Nick’s motivation to suddenly become a sadistic, torturing psychopath? The death of his wife and twin babies due to "negligence" on behalf of a cast of characters? And the discovery that Dermot had slept with Nick’s wife and was indeed the father of those twins? How’s this for melodramatic prose:
"My wife lay dead. My children had been burned to death, and now I was informed that my oldest and dearest friend…had fucked my wife when he’d felt horny one day. You’d actually chosen not to give your own wife children, and then had been so careless, you gave my wife twins."
Cue ominous music. Oy vey ... Oh yeah, and the ultimate revenge comes when Nick buries Dermot alive in the wife's backyard and keeps him alive by feeding him fetid compost???? No way! Can you spell soap opera?
I can let some things go, but not that. I try not to nitpick books; after all, some readers are going to love this novel and have a helluva good time reading it. Our reading responses are so subjective. But horror matters to me, in all of its manifestations. And in my opinion, Briant cheated the genre. Maybe he doesn't know it all that well and only thinks he does ... maybe he underestimated the readers thinking they'll swallow any pill if it's violent and sensationalist enough. Who knows? This is his first try, and it shows potential. My advice to Briant - learn more about your chosen genre and its readers - or try something else next time ... maybe something more "literary".
This series lost something critical from Book 1, Time of the Reaper to the follow-up, Slave Harvest. The first book hurtles along at a pulp-riff-page-This series lost something critical from Book 1, Time of the Reaper to the follow-up, Slave Harvest. The first book hurtles along at a pulp-riff-page-turning pace; this sequel lags and sort of loses its way. In fact, I found the execution a little immature and, at times, painfully derivative. I probably could have finished it, but with so many more books waiting in the wings clamoring to be read, gladly didn't finish it. ...more
I've wasted too much of my precious reading time on this book to waste even more time reviewing it. Dull, insipid prose that just goes on and on like I've wasted too much of my precious reading time on this book to waste even more time reviewing it. Dull, insipid prose that just goes on and on like the Energizer Bunny. Painful! Torturous! I skimmed the last third just to get to the end. How can a book about one of the most fascinating women in French history, who finds herself caught up in the maelstrom of revolution, be so goddamn boring? Avoid this pretentious, winded, piece of shite! Instead, read To Dance With Kings, by Rosalind Laker....more
This book just did not grab me. Maybe it was my mood, but the onslaught of action sequences wore me out. The plot felt tired to me, one step up (barelThis book just did not grab me. Maybe it was my mood, but the onslaught of action sequences wore me out. The plot felt tired to me, one step up (barely) from a slasher flick (and the characters about as well-developed). The first chapter shows a lot of promise, but the book quickly descends into mindless, senseless brutality with HEAPS of mediocre prose to prop it up. ...more
Booooo!!!! Hisssss!!!!! and shame on Lisa Rogak! Through countless interviews, personal essays, and a best-selling memoir, Stephen King has been quiteBooooo!!!! Hisssss!!!!! and shame on Lisa Rogak! Through countless interviews, personal essays, and a best-selling memoir, Stephen King has been quite transparent over the years about his personal life and his vices, his fears and his passions, his writing and that of others. I cannot imagine what a third-person biography would have to offer that we haven't already heard from the man himself. In short, nothing, that's what. This effort by Lisa Rogak smacks of a cheap sensationalist ploy to cash in on King's gargantuan fame.
But maybe I'm being too cynical. For King novices and general interest readers, a general biography isn't the worst thing, is it? Having said that, Rogak's superficial treatment of her subject (drawing exclusively upon previously published material) offers no insight and fails to present anything original about the man, the times in which he lives, and the storytelling that has captivated millions of readers from all around the world. Don't waste your time with this classless piece of shite; read King's memoir On Writing -- it is much more rewarding, informative, and inspiring. ...more
Didn't like it ... at all. Just could not get swept up into the narration -- story reads like a dreadful combination of a clumsy, ineffectual parable Didn't like it ... at all. Just could not get swept up into the narration -- story reads like a dreadful combination of a clumsy, ineffectual parable and an over-the-top Bible passage. The sheer cruelty inflicted upon the animals in this book made me angry because it seemed to happen for no greater purpose than to establish evil. Hated Grandmother Moccasin and that entire subplot that was supposed to illustrate something so much greater about the enduring quality of love... but failed miserably as far as I'm concerned. Adults may love this story and obviously chose it as a National Book Award Honor (and god forbid if it gets the Newbery!), but I remain unconvinced that the story has anything to appeal to a child's heart and sense of wonder. This is not Charlotte's Web, The Incredible Journey, The Yearling or Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. If you cherish any of these classics I recommend you avoid The Underneath....more
Used to read John Saul when I was a teenager and decided to give him another try a few years ago to see if he had matured/improved any. Nope. Weak wriUsed to read John Saul when I was a teenager and decided to give him another try a few years ago to see if he had matured/improved any. Nope. Weak writing, weak plot, poorly executed. The next time I read another John Saul novel is when there is a gun pointed at my head. ...more
