Video: Opening Ramble about Book Reviewing

Hey everyone, the Gone review is on its way but in the meantime, here's me playing with a webcam and talking about books.

Enjoy my awkwardness...or not.

Early Reviews: Amendments (Twilight, DIOM, Hunger Games)

I've hit a wall on reviewing Guardians of Ga'Hoole. As predicted, my line-up is changing to fewer books per review but it's still mind-boggling to try summarizing and discussing their stories all at once. That particular review has been under construction for over a year and barely gotten anywhere. All in all, it's safe to say I've been awful at updating this blog as often as I'd like.

In the middle of this rut, I have decided there's no better time to address some issues I've found with my own reviews. The thing with writing about my opinions on books is that over time I tend to reconsider what I've said and whether I even agree with myself anymore. Overall, my opinions on the books are the same, but I've said some problematic things that need to be amended. Here goes.

Introducing Athena's younger siblings, Hermes and Thalia!

Twilight:

I still hate Twilight and I stand by my reasoning. However, 3 years ago when I wrote that review and my emotions about it were still running high, I ran off on a couple of tangents that were beside the point. In the process, I made some problematic statements regarding physical attraction and dating Bad Boys vs. Nice Guys.

It appeared that I was slamming on physical desire and male protectiveness altogether, and I wholeheartedly agree that vilifying both of those is unfair. Physical desire is a crucial part in a romantic relationship. There is no debate from me there--it is. My problem is Bella's affection for Edward hinges entirely on her attraction to him. We never hear her shut up about how beautiful he is. Good romantic relationships involve physical desire, but they are also so much more than that.

Men's protectiveness of their female partners is completely normal and I respect men who exercise it. My problem is that Edward is NOT protective. He shows controlling and abusive tendencies and this is passed off as protectiveness and affection for her--something all too often done in real-life abusive situations--or excused because he is a vampire with a hard-to-resist appetite for Bella's blood.

My side rant about girls seeking male affection to build their own sense of self-worth was off topic. While it is something that needs to be discussed, it didn't truly relate to my reasons for hating Twilight and I apologize for bringing it up.

My other mistake was going off on girls for picking attractive Bad Boys (often with the intent to change them) when they should be picking Nice Guys. For starters, the assumption that women are actively seeking bad guys is not even accurate. In some cases, perhaps, but in most cases this is a highly accusatory complaint made by bitter Nice Guys who have been "friend-zoned" one too many times. Once again, it's not even the issue in Twilight. Another issue that needs to be discussed at some point later, but not why I hate this book. Again, I apologize for the hostility displayed here.

Twilight condones--no--presents this abusive relationship as the ultimate romance, the love story we should all want. I don't have to read the rest of the series to understand that. Other reviewers like me have said that it only gets more abusive and more idealized. That is more monstrous than the vampires themselves. Bottom line, that is why I hate Twilight, I always will, and I will never pick up a book from that so-called saga again.

Closing this book--done ranting about it. No more sparkly vampires.

Dragons in Our Midst:

Wow, I really should've revisited this one 2 years ago when a couple of my issues were addressed by the author, Bryan Davis. It still blows my mind that he took the time to read what some random girl on the Internet had to say, much less talk to me about it. He is one of my absolute favorite writers and I have a lot of respect for him. (I PROMISE I'm not just saying that because he gave me attention!)

That doesn't mean that I don't poke fun at his work now and then, or never find fault in any of it.

One of the things I poked at was the reference to Merlin as Noah's descendant, when, in fact, we all get the honor of that title. Never fathoming that Davis would ever see it, much less comment on it, I somewhat facetiously requested that he reread Genesis. Imagine the embarrassment (mixed with the fangirling) I felt when he went along with my facetiousness and pointed out that I was actually referencing the second series, Oracles of Fire. (This is what happens when I don't keep the book in front of me as I review it. A mistake I'll never make again!)

Anyway, it was my silly mistake to poke at a book I wasn't even reviewing and to top it off, I missed the metaphor. Merlin is intended to inherit Noah's position as prophet and was never set apart as a physical heir of Noah. I apologize once again, Mr. Davis, and thank you for being such a good sport about the whole thing.

We did end up discussing my problem with the dragon messiah, and I think it makes a lot more sense to me in that the messiah is meant to save the dragons from their predicament, not their sin. (This is my brief paraphrase of the explanation. Since it was a conversation through e-mail, I will respectfully refrain from posting the whole thing on a blog.)

I think, even if this concept remained theologically shaky, it by no means puts Davis in dangerous territory, though I said that in the original review. From my own experience (or struggle) with my novels so far, writing Christian fantasy can be frustrating to say the least. I really want any messages about God to be biblically sound, but in a fantasy world, it's hard to predict what his will would be. At the end of the day, I think we as readers need to keep in mind that Christian fantasy writers are trying their best to apply biblical principles to a realm that doesn't follow the same rules as ours does--one with, perhaps, very human characters that aren't technically human. While fantasy is fun and can reveal truth, it is not gospel and shouldn't be taken as such.

The Dragons in Our Midst series is an excellent blend of God, science, and magic. To this day I am still honored that Bryan Davis took at least five minutes of his time to talk about it with me.

The Hunger Games:

Ah, violence in the media. I revisit you once again. I suppose since I ended the last one with a question, the odds were definitely in favor of me talking about this again.

In my Hunger Games review, I questioned whether it really matters how violence is portrayed considering humans tend to revel in the gore either way. Ironically, the release of the film version and the public's reaction to it, as I've observed anyway, has helped me come to my conclusion.

First, however, the Saddam Hussein comment, or rather, the one about the child's death. My memory is sketchy about the whole thing. I remember this child hung himself and it seemed oddly coincidental that this happened so close to Hussein's televised execution, but any connection between the two is speculative at best. I didn't know the facts, I still don't, and I should know better than to talk about these things when I just don't know. Again, my mistake, my apology--I'm learning and hopefully getting better as I go.

On a lighter note, I reread the book a few days ago and repent of the grammar costing it an A. Yes, it contains several run-on sentences, but in retrospect they're only confusing enough to merit an A-, not a B.

Now, The Hunger Games and its two sequels were already very popular, hence the movie adaptation, but the movie has sparked most of the talk--and controversy--I've seen about it. I'm very, very tempted to talk about the movie here but I won't until I've watched it again at least once. I will say that I was pleasantly surprised, and likewise I'm very impressed at how many people, young adults really understand this book and the topics it brings to light. These books--and the movie--expect their target audience to be smart, and they are.

Is everyone eating this stuff up also being smart about it? No, of course not. Of course we have people who are here for the blood. Are there people, adults in particular, up in arms against this book? You bet there are. I've seen and heard comments about how this book/movie is horrible because "it's about kids killing kids."

I find myself defending this book when I hear that, and that's how I know I've found the answer I didn't have when I originally reviewed it.

Since people who say that usually haven't even bothered to read it, I cannot urge them enough--read the book. If you don't want to read it because it's about kids killing kids...Read it. I have 2 reasons for this:

One: You will get nowhere criticizing a book you have not read. If you want to state your opinion about a book, you have to read it first. I'm sorry, but that's how this works. Two: if kids killing kids, especially for a country's entertainment, disgusts you, The Hunger Games is right there with you. Arguing with something you agree with is generally a waste of time.

The Hunger Games does not condone--no, it condemns violence as entertainment. It absolutely matters how violence is portrayed. If nothing else, this little book and its movie have provoked our thoughts and gotten us talking. And we need to talk about this.

I'm very excited for the future of literature.

These books all belong to their respectful owners; names and concepts used only for reviewing purposes.

"Doctor Who" belongs to BBC, not me!

Athena, Hermes, and Thalia do happen to belong to me. :)

Ga'Hoole Movie Rant and Prologue

Poster for the 2010 movie

Considering Kathryn Lasky’s Guardians of Ga’Hoole is a fantasy series about owls, and I am the Crazy Owl Lady, we all know this review has to happen. The problem is I don’t even know where to begin with it. There are fifteen books in this series, each of which I believe is vitally important to understanding the world of Ga’Hoole. I just don’t feel like I can only review a few of them or skim through all of them at once without giving them justice. There is also the movie version, which I really feel deserves my attention even though I don’t normally review movies.

If I was going to give each and every Ga’Hoole book (and the movie) the justice I believe it deserves, this would be one crazy long review and I’m just not going to subject you guys to all that text at once. (Seriously, it could probably be a book in and of itself.) So I’ve decided I’m going to divide this series up to three reviews: one for a sort of “prologue” and movie review, the other two for the books, cutting off after Book Six (The Burning) for the first part. This is because I think the first six have a certain dynamic to them before taking off in a different direction in Book Seven (The Hatchling). The atmosphere also gets considerably darker at that point. Granted, Ga’Hoole as a whole has a dark feel to it (and not just because the majority of it happens in the nighttime due to our wonderfully nocturnal characters), but after Book Six, it becomes a great deal more so. Yeah, and from the comments I read on IMDB, some people couldn’t even handle the movie—which now brings us to my movie tangent.

“Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga’Hoole” was animated by Animal Logic, the same company that worked on “Happy Feet,” and directed by Zack Snyder, who’s more well-known for “300,” “Watchmen,” and “Dawn of the Dead.” Now, I haven’t seen any of those movies, but it definitely looks as though “Guardians” is quite different from them. Needless to say, the cute and fluffy raptors, even in their crazy, slow-motion battles, are nothing like the blood-splattered field of soldiers and some guy yelling, “This is SPARTA!” (I don’t think I need to explain why I haven’t seen that movie.)

I haven’t thoroughly looked into it for the sake of keeping my view of the movie mostly untarnished, but “Guardians" didn’t fare too well in the box office and, like most movies, has both good and bad reviews. However, I did take particular notice of a post in the IMDB forums about it, in which a mom complained about the complete lack of blood and gore in this movie, at the same time complaining that it was too dark and the parallelism of the evil Pure Ones to Nazism was not an appropriate theme for her children. (Really? Yes. Really. How I wish I was joking. We’ll get back to her in a few.)

Naturally, since this is a movie based off a book series, there are no doubt a ton of book fans screaming about how terrible it is because “they changed stuff.” Luckily for you, I won’t be joining these ranks. If there’s one thing I should really add to my list of pet peeves, it’s book fans—or should I say “purists”—who like to nitpick every little thing that gets lost in book-to-movie translation, thus automatically ruining any book-to-movie experience they will ever have, not to mention ruining it for the rest of us who want to enjoy the movies for what they are.

NO DUH they change things when making a movie out of a book! Do you have any idea how boring it would be if they left it exactly the same? Film is an entirely different medium of entertainment than written literature, so of course the stories will never translate perfectly. Also, if the original author worked on the writing team—which she did—I like to add an extra helping of “Shut the heck up!”

That being said, I like this movie. I happen to own this movie. I initially received two copies of it for Christmas 2010; that is how much I proclaim my like for this movie. Certainly, the story was rushed through, but that’s what happens when they try to cram three books into one movie. The storylines of Kludd, the Pure Ones, St. Aegolius Academy, and Ezylryb were altered, as well as the properties of the dangerous flecks, but for the sake of making this movie work, I really don’t think I can blame them.

“Guardians,” like in the books, focuses on the young barn owl Soren, who’s a bit of a dreamer, eating up his father’s stories of the Guardians of Ga’Hoole and Lyze of Kiel. He and his jealous older brother, Kludd, fall out of the hollow one night and are snatched up by the Pure Ones, who at this point already control St. Aegolius, according to the movie version’s lore. The Pure Ones, as you may have inferred by now, are barn owl (Tyto) supremacists bent on taking over the owl kingdoms. Kludd joins them but Soren escapes with his new friend, an elf owl named Gylfie. They later meet Digger, a boisterous burrowing owl, and Twilight, a tough great gray, who is way more awesome than the vampire novel of the same name. The four of them become “the Band” and determine to find the Ga’Hoole Tree and warn the Guardians of the menace that is the Pure Ones.

The animation was absolutely beautiful, even in 3D and I normally hate 3D. I also appreciated that the battle scenes didn’t show us any blood or gore—thank you, Zack Snyder, for whatever prompted you to refrain this time. Furthermore, as a book fan, I believe the movie for the most part stayed true to the characters and captured the basic essence of the story, which are really my only criteria for a good book-to-movie translation.

The only problem is, the essence of the book series is complex in and of itself. As much as I enjoy “Guardians,” it gives the story a mask of simplicity. Friends of mine who haven’t read the books claim the story is unoriginal, “like any other fantasy story but with owls.” I can see their point: there’s an evil brother, an evil organization that wants to take over the world, and a fantastical place that no one believes in except the child. (Narnia, anyone?) Then of course there’s the Dumbledore-crossed-with-Yoda mentor Soren finds in Ezylryb, the crazy old screech owl. Finally, the good guys really only win because of lucky guesses, not actual competence. So yes, the movie is basically your average fantasy story, only with brilliantly animated owls. It’s much, much simpler than its book counterparts, though to non-readers some details will be confusing because they felt like throwing them in without properly explaining them. It’s much lighter, too. All the same, I can’t help but love it.

Ga’Hoole really is, at least in my opinion, multifaceted. It’s adventurous. It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s also emotional, philosophical, and theological. Obviously, the Fascist themes show up as well. This is why I don’t blame the moviemakers for not capturing all the layers of Ga’Hoole. I don’t think it all could be captured on film. Other IMDB commenters have said that the books aren’t even kids’ books due to the deep and dark content they say is more appropriate for grown-ups and I suppose that’s—

Wait a minute! Just why is a book series not appropriate for kids just because it’s deep and dark? And yes, now back to the irate mother—you know, the one who said, “It’s not gory enough but it’s too dark for my kids.” Well, there’s no way for me to react to that without being offensive, so I’ll just say it. This woman is an idiot. Do I even have to explain why you can’t put those two complaints together? I don’t think so! I’m not going into the lack-of-gore complaint either because that one ties in better with my Hunger Games review, but I definitely have to argue about the themes being “too dark” for kids.

It seems any time a good writer wants to give our kids meaningful stories with actual intelligence and required thought, a great deal of people want to go on a rampage about how they’re too scary and depressing for children. Some might say they’re taking their children too seriously, but I’m actually saying they’re not taking their children seriously at all.

They don’t think kids have the emotional or intellectual capacity to process these stories and themes, and quite frankly, I find that insulting. If I was still an elementary-aged child, I’d be doubly insulted.

Do you want to know some of the books I read as a kid? The Chronicles of Narnia (SPOILER: Everyone dies in The Last Battle), King of the Wind, Little Women, Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, Where the Red Fern Grows—none of those are happy little tales of wonderfulness (at least not through the whole thing) and my childhood hasn’t been scarred as a result. Granted, I also read garbage like The Babysitters’ Club, but honestly, the difficult books like those mentioned above positively contributed to my intelligence and my whole person while the simple stories about junior high drama...just didn't.

Goodness, people, give kids a chance! Take them a little more seriously. You’ll be surprised what all they can handle. For screeching out loud, quit listening to pop culture. According to that, kids need mindless tripe like Sponge Bob and Hannah Montana. Also, vampires make great lovers.

My rant is over and it’s time to come to a close. We’ll see how well my series split-up works or if I’ll have to alter it. And remember: if you think the fantasy genre is supposed to be pure escapism or a story about owls is going to be light and fluffy, then Ga’Hoole will rock your world.

Guardians of Ga'Hoole, "Legend of the Guardians" and all related characters belong to their rightful owners...not me. Copernicus and Wesley are mine, though.

And yes- if you want to know what kind of owl Wesley is, then you are an owl Nazi and should be ashamed of yourself. ;) Haha

Violence in the Media: Revisited (The Hunger Games)

Most of you agree with me when I say violence is unacceptable. We hate hearing about it on the news, especially when it involves children. A lot of us avoid watching the news because of all the violence and negativity attached. It’s just another reminder that the world is a sick and twisted place.

In our entertainment, however, we love it and we can’t get enough of it. It’s hard to find a movie below a PG rating nowadays, even below PG-13, and most of these movies earn these ratings through language, sexual content, and violence.

Ironically enough, I had to write an essay on this topic in high school and now The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (NOT to be confused with Stephenie Meyer) is forcing me to revisit it and possibly even argue with my fifteen-year-old self.

This novel is set in a futuristic world where North America fell apart and a new country, known as Panem, replaced it with the oppressive Capitol as its…well…capital. The thirteen districts at one point rebelled against the Capitol and failed. As a result, the Capitol destroyed District 13 and punishes the remaining twelve with the Hunger Games, an annual event in which a boy and a girl (ages twelve to eighteen) from each district are forced to fight to the death and everyone is required to watch. It is noted that the Games are highly entertaining for the residents of the Capitol, but, as is understandable, much more traumatizing to the districts whose children are in the arena.

The story revolves around Katniss Everdeen, who volunteers to replace her twelve-year-old sister as District 12’s “tribute.” She certainly thinks the Capitol’s ways are sick and wrong, but once she begins preparation for the Games, she mostly seems to focus on her own survival. To increase her chances, Katniss must win the audience’s favor by playing the love interest of her fellow tribute, Peeta. Because if there’s one thing the audience eats up as much as a good bloodbath, it’s a good love story.

The Hunger Games is a beautifully written story with the exception of several run-on sentences that caused me unnecessary confusion. It sucks you in and then it disturbs you out of your mind—well, almost. Towards the end, it left me demanding the overthrow of this evil, evil Capitol. Only there is no Capitol—or is there?

This disturbing form of government doesn’t exist, at least not yet, and God forbid we ever allow it to. But how much would it take to get there? The problems Collins has presented are nothing new, nor are they all that different from anything in human history. Collins probably just took the twisted, violent human nature to the next level.

Anyone who knows anything about world history knows about public executions and especially the Roman Coliseum, where people watched people die for entertainment. Maybe you’re familiar with the phrase “bread and circuses” in reference to Rome and their “games.” (“Panem” is actually Latin for “bread.”) The phrase refers to the citizens trading their freedom and values for food and entertainment. Popcorn and theaters, anyone?

We watch fake violence. Instead of watching people die, we’re watching people pretend to die. Because visual effects keep getting better and better, there really isn’t a difference anymore, except that our beloved performers are still available to appear at red carpet events after the fact. It’s what sells, so it’s what the movie makers keep giving us. (Along with sappy love stories!)

Alright, the fake violence we watch is morally acceptable compared to the alternative. In fact, I’m glad that if we must see blood, we’ve got a far better option nowadays than literally spilling the blood. Also, as a writer, I understand completely that any good story needs some good conflict, and that usually involves violence. A story just isn’t interesting to read or watch without some amount of it. Violence especially should be written about if you’re Suzanne Collins and you want us to think about the point you’re trying to make.

Unfortunately, the more violence we watch, the more desensitized we become to it. How long will it be before it’s real and we don’t care? Then again, this may already be happening. Only a few years ago, Saddam Hussein’s public execution was broadcasted on the news—and who can forget the death of the child who replicated what he saw? Some might jokingly remark that some dumb genes were removed from the pool, but that doesn't make the situation any less horrific. It doesn’t change the fact that a child died from an idea he got from the television.

Within the last two years, I've watched the news discuss several instances in which kids beat each other up and posted it on the Internet. Disciplinary action was taken each time, but for whatever reason, some other kids thought it was cool and decided to copy the violence or take it to the next level.

Have we already stopped caring?

It seems as though we’re becoming more and more desensitized to violence, especially the younger generations. I’ll admit it’s even happening to me, and I don’t like it. I get very squeamish when it comes to blood, but I’m covering my eyes a little less lately.

Reading The Hunger Games reminded me of when I was forced to watch Gladiator in my high school sophomore history class. I was probably at my most squeamish back then and looked away through most of it, focusing on the emotion behind it more than anything. I took in the pain of these slaves who were forced to fight to the death for everyone else’s entertainment.

This was around the same time I had to write the essay on violence in the media. I concluded that violence could be alright depending on how it is portrayed, remembering my emotional reaction to Gladiator and feeling the movie condemned the violence as entertainment. The writer in me still agrees to an extent. Presentation is key when it comes to morally questionable subjects. How the writer presents such things indicates whether she endorses or condemns them.

However, now I recall most other people in my class relishing every last bit of gore in that movie. Now I wonder—does it really matter how it’s portrayed? Will human bloodlust overlook the true message behind the presentation and cheer for more brutality instead? Does it matter whether Collins wrote her novel to provoke our thoughts about the human condition or just to sell us something? I may never have a good answer to these questions.

Ironically enough, there is a film version of The Hunger Games on its way. Soon, just like the citizens of Panem, we will watch twenty-four teenagers hunt each other to death.

The book itself receives a B from me (the grammatical issues were, sadly, distracting enough to cost it the A). As for our society, I’m still in the middle of grading.

Now it is your turn to ask these questions. It is your turn to decide: Is this acceptable?

The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins.
And yes, Thena's eye shadow is somewhat of a "tribute" to the Capitol's ridiculous use of makeup + Katniss' fire. :)

Mr. Toad Syndrome (Wind in the Willows)

This review may contain spoilers. Read at your own risk.

A few months ago I discovered The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame in my bookshelf. Realizing I never actually read this children’s classic in all the years I apparently owned it, I decided to finally do so in my spare time. Now, I normally review more contemporary books, and The Wind in the Willows was actually published in 1908. I was also planning to review The Hunger Games next, but upon completing this book, I feel that it deserves a review from me so my tackle of that other happy tale of wonderfulness will just have to wait.

Disney fanatics might be more familiar with the 1949 cartoon The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad or even the Disneyland ride based on that. Yes, the Mr. Toad-centered portion of the show is based—however loosely that may be—on The Wind in the Willows. (Now isn’t that interesting, a ride based on a cartoon based on a book?) There are also several film adaptations and even a play based on this story.

The novel itself has been quite successful, even when first published, surprising me because most classic authors I’ve researched ended up broke and never became famous until after they were dead. (Hemingway actually killed himself in Idaho, but this review is about Grahame’s work, not Hemingway’s. I apologize for my rabbit trail.)

In my opinion, this book was okay. It’s not bad by any means, definitely not on the level of terribleness that is Twilight and Hemingway’s works—it’s just okay. As a classic, I think it’s highly overrated. Why would I say such a thing, you ask? Well, for starters, this is the first book I've had to look up in Wikipedia to find out what it was about AFTER I read the darn thing. Again, it’s not nearly as terrible as Hemingway; at least it has a plot, but it was a bit confusing.

The summary on the back of my book was misleading to say the least. According to it, the main character is Mole, who makes new friends in Ratty, Badger, and Toad. Then the evil weasels take Toad’s home and the four friends have to fight them to get it back. This gave me the impression of a battle between good and evil, adventure, and the loyalty between friends. Unfortunately, this so-called plot doesn't really happen until the last two chapters, thus smashing my dreams of the good and evil fight, minimizing adventure, and focusing mainly on friendship. Basically, there was a whole lot of playing around and building up to the conflict, but very little conflict.

The story begins one spring as Mole, a shy homebody, ventures out from his underground home and meets the Water Rat, more fondly known as Ratty, by the river. The two become instant friends and spend a great deal of time in Ratty’s boat and eating together. Soon after this meeting, Ratty introduces Mole to the rich and conceited—though quite friendly—Toad. Not too long ago, Toad was just as obsessed with boating as Ratty, if not more so, but now he’s moved on to a new fad: horse-drawn carts. The three of them go on a road trip together, only to nearly get hit by a motor car. Sure enough, as soon as Toad sees the car, he loses all excitement for his cart and wants one of those “machines” instead. I suppose if you’re as rich as Toad, you can afford to jump from expensive fad to expensive fad, but all the same, he is quite the ridiculous and shallow character.

A great deal of time goes by. It is now winter, and Mole is curious about Ratty’s other best friend, Badger. They venture into the Wild Wood, and a few clumsy pages later, they find his home. Shivering, tired, and hungry, they take up shelter with him for the night. As for Badger, he is older than the other characters, having been friends with Toad’s father first, and logically possesses the voice of reason in this group. He has a cynicism toward society, though he is kind and enjoys the occasional company; he just seems to thrive when he has his alone time. (He’s the poster boy for introverts!)

For about a page and a half of this visit, the three discuss the level of ridiculousness Toad has reached with his cars. Apparently he is a horrific driver, crashing every one he owns, earning himself the new record in fines and three trips to the hospital. They decide that a drastic intervention is in order but not until next spring, because during the winter most animals are just too tired (or lazy) to perform such strenuous activities as dealing with stupid friends. (Alright, guys, let’s just hope he hasn’t died or gone to jail before then...)

A whole lot of wandering around and one homesick Mole later, spring comes along and the three head over to Toad Hall to very forcefully implement their intervention strategy on a hysterical Toad, who thankfully hasn’t died or gone to jail while his friends were eating and sleeping. This, of course, changes rapidly when Toad escapes his friends and steals a car—yes, he STEALS a car. Then the inevitable occurs and he’s arrested and put in jail.

What’s interesting about this novel is that not only are we in a world where humans don’t think twice about talking, clothes-wearing animals, they hold the animals to social responsibilities as well. Therefore, for stealing a car and evading the police, Toad is sentenced to twenty years in a human prison.

Of course, Toad escapes, and ends up committing a great deal of tom foolery, including dressing as a washerwoman, stealing a woman’s horse, selling it, and then stealing the exact same car again. He finally runs into Ratty and boasts of these actions, only to have Ratty break the bad news to him: the evil Weasels have overrun Toad Hall.

Interrupting Toad’s adventures, Mole and Ratty take part in what the Nostalgia Chick from ThatGuyWithTheGlasses.com might refer to as "Big-Lipped Alligator Moments." Both of these moments involve the two doing what they do best—hanging out and wandering around. The entire time, they seem to have forgotten about how Toad gave them the slip, committed crimes, and ended up in prison. In fact, it’s almost as though they forgot he existed. Both events were never mentioned again, and both left me asking the simple question, “Why?”

Once Toad is reunited with Ratty, we learn that his friends really didn’t forget about him, for Badger and Mole have been beaten rather brutally by the Weasels in trying to defend Toad Hall, and the friends now plan to help Toad get his home back.

Basically, Toad finally realizes what great friends he has and what a jerk he’s been, so he tones down the ego…at least for the time being. I’m all for character development and believe that people change, but with Toad there are a couple of constants: He’s conceited and he’s wishy-washy, saying and doing whatever he thinks is most convenient for him at the time. I predict that after a while, once he’s gotten nice and comfortable in his home again, he will return to his old ways and cause stress to his friends once more. (When they’re not getting distracted by their Big-Lipped Alligator Moments, that is!)

The main theme, as I mentioned before, is friendship. There are some good friends in this story—well, at least okay friends. They certainly got easily distracted from their goal of helping Toad, and their idea of helping him involved trying to talk some sense into him, and when that didn’t work they shut him up in his room and wouldn’t let him out until he “admitted his folly.” That, children, is called holding someone against their will, and it isn’t legal, but it was “for his own good” so I guess it was okay. When he breaks out of jail and meets up with them again, the issue isn’t so much that he broke out of jail but that he’s so boastful and ridiculous about it and now it’s time to get his house back. (Um…what about the fact that he’s supposed to be in prison, guys? Hello? Escaped convict?) Well, easily distracted aside, the friends come through at the end, zealously defending his reputation and property. Perhaps not very good law-abiding citizens, but they’re pretty decent friends.

There are the good friends and then there’s a very obvious bad friend. Toad’s the character that gets the most attention from the audience, whether in this book or in films. You’ll notice the Disney version specifically has his name in the title, not any of the other characters’. This is because, no matter what era you live in, bad friends always receive far more attention than they deserve. Toad simply demands this attention because his antics involve so much hilarity. They’re terrible. They’re annoying. But they caused many laugh-out-loud moments on my part.

Toad is the most recognizable character because we all know him in real life. Everybody either has or observes a bad friend. Everybody knows such a person, whether we easily identify them as a “bad friend” or not. This kind of person is usually on top of the latest fads and holds an exceptional social presence, loving to plan events and invite people to them. Whether we realize it or not, they enjoy blowing their own horn and showing off their stuff at these events. (The obviousness of such a trait tends to vary depending on the bad friend.) This kind of person may also be the type that lives entirely in the moment and only thinks of himself or herself rather than the consequences, and if it comes down to it, they will leave you in the dust, feeling like a fool, in favor of their own advantage. If you combine all of these traits and exaggerate them a little, you have Toad. Don’t lie to yourself; you know you have a victim of Mr. Toad syndrome pictured in your head and maybe you’re even laughing a little on the inside. It’s sad, but in our world full of flawed humans, it’s just the way it is.

Whether the bad friend is actually our friend, we simply go to their events for our amusement, or we look on from our corner of outcasts, we know who they are, and that makes Toad a great satire. All the more entertaining is watching his good friends try to get his stupid little head to see reason—when we’re not yawning over their wanderings and Mole’s somewhat lovable naivety, anyway.

And now we come to it. The one aspect I would rather avoid, but it’s such an elephant in the room that I can’t—Grahame actually based Toad’s character on his young son. This was very loosely, Toad’s stubbornness really being the only thing based on the child, but still. Basing such a character on your child, even that loosely, is pretty, well, mean of you, Grahame! Especially considering the nature of the boy’s demise years later, it’s not very funny at all. I’m not going to tell you. You’ll just have to research that one yourself.

This book has a great theme about loyalty and an amusing enough satire about trying to help a bad friend, but when it comes to the story, I’m afraid there was far too much “story fat” and not enough story. I recommend it because it’s a classic (shame on me for not reading it sooner) but as far as classics go, it’s only okay. Again, it’s highly overrated.

Note: Extra research courtesy of Wikipedia.org. This is a great site to go to if you want basic information out of curiosity, but don’t try to use it in an uber-important research paper or dissertation or anything like that. Your grade will suffer for it.

Also, “Big-Lipped Alligator Moment” may or may not belong to Lindsay Ellis or someone else from thatguywiththeglasses.com. If it does, please don’t sue me! This phrase is genius and I’m giving you guys credit for it!

Why I Love Dragons

If you’re a fan of dragons, Arthurian legends, and Christian fantasy, then chances are you’ll love Dragons in Our Midst by Bryan Davis. This series of four books (Raising Dragons, The Candlestone, Circles of Seven, and Tears of a Dragon) kept me pretty occupied my junior and senior years in high school. I recall late nights and even spending a whole Saturday reading Circles of Seven, which I’ll have to note as my favorite one. Of course, for those of you who haven’t read these books yet, I highly recommend starting with Raising Dragons. It’s most logical to start at the beginning and while this book is not in my top three, it’s the one that got me hooked.

In Raising Dragons, we’re introduced to Billy Bannister and Bonnie Silver, the two middle-school age children of dragons. This sounds weird, since they both look human for the most part, but don’t worry. We have Billy’s dad here to tell the story of how, during King Arthur’s reign, slayers threatened to wipe out the entire dragon race because of the terrible reputation brought on by the evil ones. To save his friends, Merlin, who was actually a prophet of God, transformed the dragons into humans. The dragons lost all their traits except for their long lifespans. Now the children they’ve borne with humans have somehow inherited dragon abilities. Billy has fire-breathing and Bonnie has wings.

Since it’s not scary enough for a fourteen-year-old boy to learn he’s a dragon, let’s bring in the modern dragon slayer, who just happens to be disguised as Billy and Bonnie’s principal, Dr. Whittier. (I knew principals were evil!) Throw in some comic relief in the form of Walter, Billy’s wisecracking best friend, and the cultural awkwardness he has with Professor Hamilton, their elderly British teacher, and we’ve now got the stage set for Raising Dragons. For the sake of spoilers, I won’t say anything else, other than you know the kids live or there wouldn't be any other books.

Making his story believable is part of what makes Davis’ writing so good. He shows a corny sense of humor through his characters, but that makes it come across as all the more real. Let’s be honest with ourselves—our normal, everyday banter is generally quite lame. As an even stronger point, though his books are Christian fantasy novels, he’ll go ahead and use science to explain a decent amount of the events so that they actually seem plausible. I have never considered God and science to be enemies, but this is the first book I’ve read that has the two fully linked. For example, Merlin is a prophet of God, but he’s also a scientist. Davis explains it all far better than I could hope to, so I won’t even try. You’ll just have to read it.

My absolute favorite aspect to these books is the focus on old-fashioned chivalry. I shamelessly admit I’m a bit old-fashioned myself, so this sort of thing wins me over every time. Throughout the series, Professor Hamilton acts as a mentor to the kids, training them for combat and in the way of chivalry. For example, a knight is never to attack when his opponent’s back is turned. Hamilton also teaches them to be warriors of God, telling them that truth is their sword and faith is their shield (or vice versa, but either way it still reminds me of the armor of God described in Ephesians).

The concept of gender roles plays a huge part in the theme of chivalry. As Davis puts it, the man is the lover and protector of his woman. Equally important, the woman provides motivation and encouragement to her man. Though she’s not supposed to fight in battle—well, at least not in the same way men do—there’s no victory without her. (There’s no victory without God, either, but you get the point.) Then again, Davis fails to be consistent with these statements because his female characters do a good amount of fighting in his battles. In fact, Bonnie is the first of our protagonists to wield Excalibur. (Yes, Excalibur appears in this story. Why write about anything Arthurian without it?)

Billy is an example of God’s warrior, though he doesn’t always look like one. Certainly, he shows some amount of chivalry early on, especially in risking his life to defend Bonnie from Dr. Whittier, but overall he has a lot of issues to deal with, from the trust in his father he loses to the trust in God he’s hesitant to give. His rage brings him to violate the code of chivalry at least once that I remember. I see Billy’s character as something many of us can look at and recognize as similar to ourselves. No matter how good or strong we think we are, we will always mess up and have to rely on God’s grace to get us through our battles.

Bonnie Silver, arguably the strongest character in this series, embodies the pure, faithful woman several of my female friends and I want to be. She also has her fair amount of emotional scarring, needing to forgive her father, who used her in his experiments when she was younger. As a foster child, she longs for a permanent home and family. Yet her trust in God gives her such peace the other characters can’t help but notice. Overall, Bonnie is the reflection of ourselves we wish to see—the ideal follower of Christ.

As much as I love these books, I take issue with a few things and it’s only fair to point them out. At first I thought of Bonnie as flawless and that bothered me, but a closer look reassured me she’s not, though she’s very close.

Bryan Davis steps onto some shaky theological ground, as is expected by writing Christian fantasy. The whole dragon-human transformation and reproduction concept is certainly odd in its own right, but once again, he writes it well enough that it comes across as plausible, so I don’t see it as an issue. Then we come to the part in which we learn the dragons need their own messiah. One of the dragons must die and be resurrected in order to redeem all their souls.

The red flag went up the moment I read this part. Sacrifices are supposed to be blameless in the eyes of God. No one fits this description except for Jesus. Once he made his sacrifice, there were supposed to be no others. Jesus is the one and only Messiah. To even suggest otherwise puts Davis in dangerous territory, even if this is a work of fiction.

This last issue pales in comparison to the messianic one, but it annoyed me enough so in the review it goes. Several times, Merlin is referred to as “the descendant of Noah,” as though that somehow sets him apart. It doesn’t. Take a good look at Noah’s family tree. Here’s a hint: EVERYBODY’S ON IT! Please reread Genesis, Mr. Davis.

Messianic and Noah soapboxes aside, I appreciate Davis’ approach to the dragon, a creature generally viewed by Christianity as a demonic symbol. The Bible often refers to Satan as a great dragon, and as a result, dragons have been seen exclusively as wicked. That’s not a fair view to take at all, since the Bible also refers to Satan as a roaring lion and I haven’t heard of anyone thinking all lions are evil. In my eyes, this is just one more example of when a biblical metaphor is taken too literally. Davis was brave for portraying dragons as noble servants of God, and he has my respect for that.

One specific scene in Raising Dragons hit me hard. When Bonnie faces off against Dr. Whittier, she is injured and worn out. She prays aloud for God to help her, and the slayer retorts, “God can’t love a miserable creature like you.”

I want to cry with Bonnie every time I read that. Now I wonder to myself: How often do we see someone and write them off as a miserable creature God can’t love, so we don’t either?

Food for thought—Davis prepares it every time he picks up that pen of his. His stories have excellent themes and his heroes, flaws and all, make great fictional role models, inspiring me to be a better writer and a better person. I would gladly read any and all of these books to my children someday.

Why I Hate Twilight

(Important note: this review covers the first book in the "Twilight saga" ONLY. I am not attacking the rest of the series, but the fact that I hated this book so much I wouldn't touch its sequels should be some kind of indicator.)

Everyone’s heard of Stephenie Meyer’s novel, Twilight, whether they’ve read it or not. It’s hard not to be aware of its existence if you’re at all acquainted with teenage girls.

The plot is rather simple: Bella Swan meets Edward Cullen, a vampire who lusts for her blood, yet she falls in love with him. Since he loves her in return, he manages to resist the urge to kill her. Then they encounter another vampire, James, who tries to kill Bella and, of course, it’s up to Edward to save her.

I honestly read this book only for the purpose of mocking it, though I did try to keep an open mind. Romance novels, particularly ones involving “vegetarian” vampires, quickly instill cruel laughter on my part, and I generally avoid them for that reason, but in all fairness, there are some positive aspects to this one. I don’t blame people for liking it—it is rather entertaining. I would be lying if I told you I didn’t stay up late, glued to the last few chapters, wanting to know how Bella was going to escape James.

While I don’t like the main characters, I can see why they’re appealing. Bella was easy to relate to: shy, clumsy, and insecure with her physical appearance. Specifically, Edward’s appeal is difficult to deny. What girl doesn’t want a guy who zealously protects her, tells her she’s beautiful, and is attractive to boot? Well, as long as we ignore the whole “I want to eat you” side to him.

That’s where we fall into the rut, actually—Edward. Before I read Twilight, I knew he was the feature character in it, the one all the girls loved. Therefore, when I started reading it, I was expecting some cliché Prince Charming character. Instead, I found myself thinking, “What a jerk.” That’s right, ladies, I just called Edward Cullen a jerk. Please don’t tell me you didn’t notice him telling Bella what to do all the time—like when they were in the restaurant and he ordered her when to eat, when to drink, because that one hit me in the face. Maybe I’m just weird, but the control freak personality is a turn-off to me. Then there’s the part where he admits to staying outside her window all night, watching her sleep, and she got a little embarrassed but otherwise wasn’t bothered by it. Again, maybe I’m just weird, but I think I’d be getting a restraining order if a guy did that—not that a restraining order would do any good against a vampire.

There was actually a scene in which Edward told Bella that she should stay away from him because he was dangerous, and then promptly invited her on a road trip. She, without hesitating, accepted his invitation, to which he responded with a laugh, saying that she really should stay away from him, and then he walked away. This, in my mind, is a prime example of both characters’ stupidity: Edward for playing obnoxious circular games like that and Bella especially for saying yes to a guy after hearing such a warning. Again, what should have happened instead was a restraining order—or, if we’re going to stick to the fantasy realm like we should by this point, a silver stake. (Assuming that really works on Meyer’s vampires. After reading that her vampires sparkle in the sunlight, I wonder what other classic weaknesses to which they’re conveniently immune.)

As far as sexual activity goes, the book is clean, despite the fact that one time Edward spends the night at Bella’s—which, I might point out, is a No-No in any decent guy’s book, even if nothing particularly explicit occurs—and in Edward’s defense, he does resist the urge to bite Bella. Unfortunately, working against Edward’s favor is the fact that he always places himself in situations he knows will be tempting, particularly in the case of his vampiric appetite. He says he doesn’t want to hurt Bella, which I would totally believe if he truly made an effort to stay away from her. Instead, there’s that infamous scene in which he tells Bella that he wants to “try something,” followed shortly by their first kiss. Clearly, he does not know whether or not he can control himself but chooses to test that limit anyway. I don’t know, girls, but that’s another trait I wouldn’t want in a potential spouse.

Overall, I found this novel degrading to women. I would say that it suggests women fall for the hot guy, despite his particularly unattractive personality, but then I realize that is exactly what society tends to do. I have heard of many cases in which a girl hands over her heart to an attractive guy who compliments and protects her. She overlooks the fact that his protectiveness is actually possessiveness, that in the back of his mind, all he can think about is how much he wants to “bite” her. He pushes the limits, trying to see how far he can go before she tells him to back off—like when Edward kept trying to make Bella afraid of him.

It is worth mentioning that the woman is not the only one being used here. There is a character, Mike, who also shows an interest in Bella. (He is not the only one, but I do not feel like taking the time to address all of them.) He is friendly and nice to her, but she spurns his advances and instead turns to Edward, who tends to be rude to her. By the way, Edward’s personality does infuriate her. All she really finds appealing about him is his attractiveness. When she thinks about him, the only thing she’s really thinking about is how “beautiful” he is. So, while Bella is a possession to Edward, he is also one to her. Think about it. Boys tend to use girls for physical gratification, and we tend to use them for emotional gratification: to gain a sense of self-worth.

Walking hand-in-hand with a hot guy like Edward must mean she’s pretty special herself. He kisses her; that must mean he finds her attractive enough. He wants to hold her close; that must mean she’s desirable. He tells her she’s beautiful. He tells her he loves her. So what if he happens to be a bit rough and scary around the edges? He’ll change for her. In the meantime, Mike, who is already nice but not as good-looking as Edward, will just have to settle for the shallow Jessica. (Which, by the way, makes no sense to me—why is the “shallow” girl falling for Mike and not Edward, unless she’s not as shallow as Meyer would like us to believe?)

This novel is a reflection of our culture, our society’s view of what love is. It is very entertaining on the surface, but then I start to really think about what it is saying. I think about all the girls who rave about Edward, how they want a guy like him. I think of the girls as young as ten who have seen the movie and say, “Edward is handsome,” and that’s the only comment they have on it. I think about the girls who will be in my classroom someday, who will probably say something similar about “Mr. Perfect” from whatever story, if we’re lucky enough to have Twilight out of fashion by then.

My mocking laughter ceases. The feelings of anger and sadness replace it, and then I weep on the inside. I weep for the Bellas of this world, giving themselves over to the Edwards because they lack the self-respect to say no, to take out a restraining order if necessary. I weep for the Edwards, who only have girls interested in them because of their looks—otherwise, they would be getting that restraining order. I weep for the Mikes, who aren’t given the chance they deserve. And I weep for the future of literature.

This aspect of society should not be encouraged; it should be questioned. That is why I hate Twilight.