Naveed Rauf từ Jūrė, Lithuania

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11/21/2024

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Naveed Rauf Sách lại (10)

2020-01-07 05:31

Có Những Ngày Cuộc Đời Chẳng Đoán Được Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn

Sách được viết bởi Bởi: Ray Đoàn Huy

I'm not going to try to summarize this book. It's been done elsewhere enough times, and I admit I'm not brave enough to try to reinvent that wheel. I read this as part of a group/buddy read; a friend had sent me a copy, and I had heard it very, very highly recommended. It's something, all right. Something that usually makes a fantasy or historical novel a wall-banger for me is the use of "OK" or "okay". Misuse, I should say. Believe it or not, I can be very tolerant of a lot of nonsense in a book; I (probably) won't jump all over a writer because he used, say, the word "shrapnel" or "sideburns" or some other anachronism in a medieval fantasy novel. I'll flinch, but I'll live and let the book live, if the rest makes it worth forgiving. But "OK" is … not ok. (I know, it's inconsistent. Sue me.) I believe I covered the whys and wherefores in a blog post an age or two ago; to recap, to me it demonstrates a signal lack of care about the language and where it comes from. I've permanently closed books because a medieval type said "OK". Steven Erikson uses "OK" in Gardens of the Moon. I was hanging by a thread with the book; others who had read it kept saying "Stick with it! Don't give up! It's worth it!" And my comment while in the midst of it was that I enjoyed it while I was actually reading it, but had to push myself to actually pick it up and open to my bookmark and delve back into it. I actually considered using the "OK" (there were several, actually) as my excuse to quit, but I gritted my teeth and decided that – just this once – I would overlook it as … a translation quirk. Whatever the characters were saying in their native tongues was best translated as "OK". It's a flaw. But I have to admit, it's one of few concrete flaws I can point at. Which doesn't mean I loved this book, or the writing of it. Another note I made: "I've been reading through the Fantasy Book Club Series threads on Gardens of the Moon, and while I think it's wonderful that Erikson inspires so much fierce loyalty (which I've seen elsewhere too), I also find it deeply off-putting to read 'study the character lists! Read every word carefully! Study the poems and quotes at the beginnings of chapters! Pay attention to everything!' I do try to read with attention, but to me it's not a mark of a good writer that all useful understanding of a book hinges on a study of every damn word." I also found it a bit startling how many people told me (when I was mired deep in the middle and a bit afraid that I'd never reach the end) "it will really grab you around page 350!" I can only, again, admire the ferocity of loyalty that can with a straight face say a book will begin to truly claim a reader's attention several pages after a huge percentage of books will have concluded. Oddly, it was true. It took me days to get past one middle page (I remember it because it had a smudge on it), and from there to the end it seemed to take less than half the time to read, possibly because I was actually returning to the book more often and more willingly. Here's the thing. I can't appreciate a writer who does not feel the least inclination to make his book less than hard work for the reader. I don't appreciate a book which should come with its own Princeton Review study guide. I don't need my hand held through a book; I loathe infodump and I don't mind being dropped in media res; but there's a difference between avoiding infodump and … just not bothering to explain anything. It is, apparently, a book which rewards rereading, which is never a bad thing in my world. However, I usually do prefer a book which makes the first read enjoyable too… Characters with several, occasionally rotating names I can deal with; I read history and historical novels too. Sorry and Lorn got nothin' on Francis Crawford of Lymond. But … huge flying bug-steeds? Warrens? Blue people? Seriously – warrens? Acorns? Flying monkeys?? Death is negotiable; life is often pretty worthless; loyalty is never to be counted on … I don't appreciate a book, or rather a writer, almost intentionally setting out to allow me to feel stupid. I believe Jonathan Franzen is the source for the quote "The reader is a friend, not an adversary, not a spectator". It's something I'd like set out in nice large calligraphy and sent, framed, to Steven Erikson. By the end of Gardens of the Moon I did not feel like a spectator – I was more involved than that. I'd worked harder than that. I'd been dragged all over the planet, up hill and down barrow and through Warren. But I certainly did not feel like the author's friend, or the book's; of the three options in the quote for adjectives, I'll plump for "adversarial". I fought my way through the book. We reached a détente somewhere in the 300's, and an uneasy peace by the end. This peace was threatened by the introduction of a (to me, maybe not paying enough attention) huge foe somewhere around page 600; I was so glazed over by then, though, that I just went with it. Was it all worth it? I ... think so. I can't commit myself more strongly than that. It was, once I found it, a compelling story. There were some characters that I came to truly enjoy – or loathe, in a good way – and want more of. I've compared writing to juggling spaghetti – loose strands flopping all over the place and tangling and getting where they shouldn't, and altogether almost impossible to contain; I think reading Gardens of the Moon was also a bit like juggling spaghetti. I'm not encouraged by reading comments here and there about how subsequent books in the series are harder to get into.

Người đọc Naveed Rauf từ Jūrė, Lithuania

Người dùng coi những cuốn sách này là thú vị nhất trong năm 2017-2018, ban biên tập của cổng thông tin "Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn" khuyến cáo rằng tất cả các độc giả sẽ làm quen với văn học này.