V for Vendetta

I picked this book up because I felt inspired to see some ass kicking against a corrupt, overzealous, powerful oligarchical governmental system in a dystopian future police-state after reading 1984, wherein I was heartbroken to learn that the supposed “counter-revolution” is a mean trick to find counter-revolutionaries and imprison them, torture them and re-educate them using the people’s own fears against them.

Alan Moore doesn’t disappoint, of course. But I couldn’t help read this and compare it to the movie, which I’ve seen only a few thousand times (one of my favourites). I’m sure Mr. Moore appreciates that fact too. At least I don’t feel as bad as the Occupy Wall Street kids he met, wearing the Guy Fawkes’ masks because they liken their movement to “what happened in the movie.“  Kids these days.

In any case, I believe I can enjoy both the movie and the book, even though they are very different. It feels like the book is more about the message, where the movie tends to focus more on the violence and V’s revolution. They even add more people he needs to slaughter into the movie. And in the scenes in which he does kill, it’s very stealthy and low-key, almost anti-climactic in the book. Moore doesn’t seem like he wants to focus much on V’s methods or his killing of guards, henchmen &cetera.

And I quite like that. The characters, save for V, Evey and Detective Finch, are all magnificent pieces of shit. 

Really love to hate those types of characters, not only for how they treat other people and their views on racial/political supremacy, but also their goals and what they value. And it feels great to watch them destroy themselves with very little prodding and setting up from V. It really is comforting to think that, of all the horrible people in life we come across, it’s okay not confronting them and pointing out their wretchedness, because eventually their own misery will catch up with them. And they likely wouldn’t understand any sensible conversation anyway.

Alan Moore seems a fan of letting crappy, awful people carry on and continue to be crappy and awful until they learn their ultimate lesson, whatever that may be. That alone makes this book worth reading, but I also loved V himself. A really amazing, driven character who’s even quirkier and stranger than I expected. I’d recommend it just for him alone, but the misery of the other characters and his vengeful, yet hands-off approach to watch them destroy themselves combines a very Count of Monte Cristo feel to it all.

Furthermore, I love the idea of Anarchy being a ruling system for society. He makes clear the difference between Anarchy and Chaos, which most people confuse, and maintains that it’s okay for humanity to operate without any central ruling body, taking care of themselves and enjoying their own personal freedoms, giving up only what they choose. I first was taught about the difference between anarchy as a political ideal and simple chaos amongst the public by the professor in The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, and I love when an author can defend these ideals.

I also love Moore’s ideals towards sexual freedom, his dears of government and leadership that aims to criticize and even ban homosexuality in some circumstances. Written during the reign of Margaret Thatcher, I can’t really sympathise with his fears, but I do have this to bring to the table:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PAJNntoRgA

(Is that the theme from Red Dawn?)

Always a pleasure to read anything Alan Moore wrote, his strange nature draws me in and I thoroughly enjoy the warnings he issues about the direction he thinks society is headed.

Brave, New World.

What I liked about reading this was how quickly it came after reading 1984. A little over a month, for me. My favourite part of Brave New World is that no matter where you dig through Aldous Huxley's collection of analysis and review and "Revisited" literature, he never refers to this world as a Dystopia. Rather, it is a satirical take on a Utopian society in which nobody need worry about anything that makes us human today. Our way of life, as progressive as we may think it be, is savage to them.

I read it with a comparison of 1984 in mind, and though I thought myself clever at the time there exists many takes on comparing/contrasting the two, mainly these websites: 

http://www.egodialogues.com/words-language/huxley-orwell.php
&
http://www.ritholtz.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/rrxW1.png

They both carry basically the same message to readers, written from authors with similar goals writing in the same time period, and both works remain equally timeless, regardless of the warnings that the future holds no room for reading. And the message is that our society is trending in a very scary direction, we should all be concerned and we should all keep an intellectual assertiveness to keep this from happening to us.

But how this comes about is totally different in Brave New World. The ruling bodies and powers that be have no need for censorship, and rely on the fundamental truths that if society is given enough freedom to engage in fun yet ultimately unrewarding behaviour, that their need to continue to have fun and be worry free will outweigh their desire to learn, be independent and seek greater knowledge. I compared it a lot more to Fahrenheit 451 (review out soon, hopefully) because people, for the most part, have better things to do than to think and learn and philosophise and expand their minds. They have girls to play with, erotic games to engage in, orgies to attend and soma to take if they ever feel stressed. It reminded me much of the crowds of frat guys in college who think the last thing in the world they want to do with their free time is read a book or study history or visit a culture that lacks our technologies which is firmly rooted in traditions we may find savage.

Just thinking about things, who we are, what others did and what could be or thinking up scenarios for how people react and what makes us human, what is an acceptable reaction to any stimuli, is a fairly basic concept of philosophy. And of Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451 and 1984 I love how the authors make these ideas, these thought processes obsolete so that society can sleep peacefully at night and not deal with the horrors and brain cramps that deep thinking brings about. But nobody did it quite like Huxley.

He makes a satirical Utopia so easy to relate, even for us, 80 years later. There's no need for any intellectual tools anymore because there's pleasurable stimuli all around you, plus the social norms and peer pressure prevent many from wanting to seek knowledge and the tools that will expand their mind. It's very comparable, in my view, to those that put off fulfilling activities to watch ABC, NBC, CBS and FOX weekly and nightly programming or Hollywood blockbuster movies with their shitty writing, shitty plots and great special effects and excessuive use of PG-13 tits and ass (Transformers, anyone? What a pile of shit).

But rather than instill fear and scare you, Huxley makes fun of it all. And for that, I think he's done something no one else can match, and few even attempt to.

Glory Road by Robert A. Heinlein

I've always loved Medieval literature, and though I don't read nearly enough fantasy as I should (I do like Tolkien, think I'll like David Eddings and even Robert Jordan, like Patrick Rothfuss thus far, really not a Terry Brooks fan though) I feel there's a connexion between those two that I can appreciate: warriors on horseback with swords fighting entire armies, adventuring, slaying dragons and rescuing queens. Love it! This book lets me feel that way without being pretentious or overdoing the whole “this world isn't like our own” bit that perturbs me; Medieval literature didn't care to make such disclaimers and was so bold as to suggest dragons could be killed in our world. And if not, who cares, it's fiction! At least Heinlein has the decency to say “we're leaving this world, from now on, anything goes.”

And of course, there's something special about the way Robert Heinlein writes. Mostly its his ideas for novels; they seem less like they come from the demand of a publisher or demand from the public and more from his own will to write about his passions in life. And even when he's firmly rooted in a fantasy story, you still get touches of his ideals for society, government, combat, relationships, sex and everything else he loves to talk about.

Robert Heinlein's first novel after he wrote Stranger in a Strange Land (a book that defied social norms and used his love of science fiction to relate a more passionate topic of his, that being sex) is the author's only work of fantasy.

But really, who expects to pick up a Heinlein book and read about dragons slain? Or magical powers used by an Empress to make a young warrior believe in himself and wield a sword with enough confidence that he can storm a highly fortified castle? It is still him, yes, but it is different. Not different in a way that makes you think he is trying too hard to re0define a genre; no it is actually quite basic fantasy stuff, but different because he has no other work like this.

If I were a harsh critic, I'd say it doesn't work, or that it doesn't fit. But I'm a Heinlein fan, and I say it's just good fun. About the only thing I didn't like is that need for an object, something physical that people use or need to possess or are trying to destroy. Plots that revolve around something so simplified as a physical, tangible object being obtained/destroyed really put me off, and it's really the only one of his works I've read to this point that uses that technique.

There is also a pretty lengthy bit at the end of their marriage and it reads like an instruction booklet on how to avoid a counselor with your spouse and still be happy. Maybe it drags on a bit too much and maybe I just get bored when he lacks violence or nudity for 10 pages.

Overall though it is definitely not what I expected when I picked it up, but what I like about the fantasy genre is how it reminds me of Medieval literature, and this has some pretty good parallels to that whilst still being absolutely Heinlein.