The Scottish Review

 Ah, Macbeth, my favourite Shakespeare play (or, as I like to call it, "what if Claudius were the protagonist of Hamlet").

I have no words to properly convey how much I love it, but I'll try nonetheless.

The Macbeths have a great dynamic, what with Macbeth being courageous on the battlefield but cowardly and paranoid at home and Lady Macbeth seeming unassuming but being ruthless and conniving on the inside. It allows for a great contrast and subversion of traditional gender dynamics and just some wonderful banter - really, Shakespeare was amazing at it. It also establishes the theme of facades, which is very prominent in this play.

(No other characters are really fleshed out, but it doesn't matter in a play as great as this, just like the fact that the Macbeths didn't have a real plan and that no one ever suspected Macbeth for some reason and that Macduff was introduced towards the beginning and just kinda reappeared at the end to kill him. It's a short one, so what's it matter? Just wanted to point out the flaws so that I don't seem too biased.)

It gets even more interesting in Act Five, when they have gone too far to return and have taken many lives and are plagued by guilt, switching their personalities completely. Lady Macbeth becomes crazy and paranoid, perpetually hallucinating blood on her hands, whereas Macbeth becomes cold-blooded and tyrannical, laughing at the idea of being killed by a "man born of woman". There are also the elements of sleepwalking and ghosts, pointing towards the supernatural that is already present in this play but written off as madness instead - symptoms of guilt, showing that even seemingly ruthless schemers and warriors have their breaking points, for their hearts are still human, causing them to fear for their immortal souls and have pity for all those they step over. An interesting duality, one that has inspired many writers over the centuries, especially realists like Dostoevsky with the dark half. Speaking of the dark half... 

Lady Macbeth is finely fleshed out with both humour and seriousness in such a way that made her arguably the most iconic character in all of Shakespeare and the type of character we would call a "girlboss" today, but Macbeth is still the star of the show. A brave warrior fiercely smiting his enemies, he's revered across all of Scotland, but even from the second scene, a sergeant notes that his sword was "smoked with bloody execution", showing that, despite all those around him calling him noble, his potential for corruption was right there under their noses. They will call him a vile murderer later for exhibiting the traits that have always lurked beneath the surface without their notice. It's still debated to this day how much of his darkness came from him being madly in love with his powerhungry wife and not wanting to seem like a coward and how much of it has always been there, a parasitic urge wanting to be unleashed, craving power for power's sake, striving and hungering, never satisfied with anything. He was a man of deep ambition, but also of deep folly, making him a tyrant and a terrible ruler who couldn't have ruled his country for more than two years at most. He hesitated and stumbled, but he was never the one to back down, always facing the challenges ahead of him. It's admirable, but it's also clear why it led him to his grave. It is the peak of tragedy. 

I suppose I should talk about Lady Macbeth as well. She had a nice start, but in Act Five, the importance and humanity of her character is truly cemented. The complexity was always there, and she always loved Macbeth and wanted the best for him despite her persistent annoyance with him, which I think is wonderful. However, when she goes off the deep end in Act Five, we see her weakness for the first time, reminding us that, despite what her unending cunning and ambition may make us think, she's still a human being capable of feeling sorrow and making mistakes. There are hints of course (the scene from Act Four when Macbeth almost ruins the dinner because he sees Banquo's ghost sitting in his chair and Lady Macbeth desperately wants everything to go normally comes to mind), and it pays off brilliantly. The candles that burn the brightest burn out the fastest, a quote that applies to her and her husband, but probably more to her because she has less influence as a woman and non-warrior and therefore has to work harder, and it's morbidly fascinating to observe. 

The comic relief is great too, especially the aforementioned and the three witches. Shakespeare really knew how to weave humour even into his tragedies. 

Also, there are tons of amazing and iconic quotes. To quote a few off the top of my head:

"By the prickling of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes." 

"Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it."

"thou cream-faced loon" 

"tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow" 

"Is this a dagger I see before me?" 

And so ends this review, a walking shadow, a poor player, a review full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

The Magic of Childhood

You know the feeling when you find a book that transports you to your childhood and warms your heart? I do not think it is very easy to find, but this book, along with Anne of Green Gables, does just that, and I must say I am impressed. 

I cannot quote them from memory, but the occasional humorous bits made me laugh, and I do not laugh that much. 

There is also the way the author weaves her story with lovely adventures and prose which sometimes reminded me of that in books outside the target audience, which I find a bit surprising. 

The literature I grew up with did not have prose that remarkable, and although the media I consumed was not that bad, I know that children are often condescended to and given ridiculous plots and horrendous prose, which has been a problem even before Tolkien and Lewis started writing their famous series. I could feel the atmosphere and imagine everything the way the author intended it to without it feeling forced. Reading a bit of it in a lit garden at the night also helped. 

I did not think much about the characters at the first, but as I continued reading, their quirks, even those that seemed a bit annoying at first, became endearing and made them seem like real people. Even the minor characters had a vivid personality that radiated through the pages, which I do not find in that many books, even those written for adults.

I was also impressed by the magic system. A lot of fantasy writers have a problem with making the magic feel, you know, magical (I am a fantasy writer, so I would know), but this author has crafted one of my favourite magic systems. It connects to the author's meticulous sense of writing prose and plotting, creating a mystery that, at the conclusion, is solved with an unexpected answer, although not one that ruins the rest of the story in any way. It stood out from the pages and enhanced the atmosphere, improving my reading experience and gathering even more of my attention. 

About the use of magic in this book, I must also say that I like how it influences the lives of our main characters. The discussion of the ways in which it is horrible and those in which it is not is deeper than I could have expected from what I have read in this target audience and genre.

When it comes to the mysteries, they were my favourite aspect of this book ever since they were introduced thanks to the beauty of the prose, plotting and the magic system around which they are framed, providing enough clues to tantalize the reader, but not so much as to make them all too obvious, nor so little as to seem pretentious and pseudointellectual, and the plot twists made me think: "How come did I not guess this? The clues were there all along!" but at least they were subtle, so I can't feel too bad about it.

Not one of my favourites only because I have read even better books, but one I will remember fondly for a long time.

In conclusion, I believe that this author deserves more recognition than J. K. Rowling, and I would recommend all of you to read this if you can find a copy. I'm sure you won't be too disappointed.

The Most Influential Book Of The Twentieth Century

One of the main purposes of reading, which I had not known for many years, is to reflect. Reflect upon one's experiences, thoughts, and even emotions that have coursed their soul for short and long periods of time alike. Ever since I discovered it, it followed me silently wherever I went, and as much as I hate to admit it, I have had some issues with accepting it. 

I knew instantly that something was not right after I wrote that first review. It always seemed a bit unsuitable, as though I was grasping at straws, searching for any reason to dislike this book deep inside. But the memory of it never left me, forcing me to, once again, face what I had faced before, this time with a more open mindset.

At its core, Rebecca is a story about ordinary people in unordinary situations, which is even said in the work itself. The theme may not be anything new, but it allowed the author to tell the story in a way only she could, playfully subverting old expectations for those types of stories.

Thus, it is obvious that the characters are the best part. The two villains, Mrs Danvers and the ghost of Rebecca, stand out in particular. 

The former is delightfully creepy, her strange behaviours so memorable that it is no wonder she has become as iconic as she did, yet there is still a deeper element to her personality placed in subtle sentences with hints about who she is within. 

The latter, even without a single word spoken, manages to be far more of a character than most of the cast, engulfing the walls of Manderley and the minds of everyone around her like a thick, dark fog, remembered for everything she did, creeping around the estate and possessing the narrator after the fire (which was amazingly described, just like everything else) in a way, carving the memory of herself long after her demise in lieu of having an heir.

The narrator is by far the most relatable of the cast, expressing the insecurity of early life and love in full detail, her insecurities and worries and "what if"s having layers upon layers that only a person like du Maurier, who truly understood those feelings, could have written about with such accuracy and skill. Many people have known them, but most have never done it on this level. It takes quite an effort to write about it in such a manner, and I very much respect the author for that. 

Another thing I like about her, which, oddly enough, I have not noticed the first time around, is her arc. Throughout the story, she is repeatedly compared to the family puppy with its naivete and sweetness and meekness, walking on eggshells around Maxim, wandering from those aspects of her personality and behaving in ways that remind him of Rebecca in small fragments. In the end, when she finds out the truth about the tragedy, it consumes her completely yet subtly, inverting the roles, and becoming what he had feared. Now he's compared to the family puppy and she's the one commanding him, continuing this way into the later years of her life. Now it is easier to understand why her name was never written. It was her destiny, to take place of Rebecca even outside the bounds of Manderley, even as everything seems different and their life there far away. It was a rather fitting ending, to be honest.

The plot was also tightly planned. Not much worse than the characterisation, which is quite the compliment. The part I liked the most, which proves my point, was Maxim's trial. All the potential ways Rebecca could have died on the boat, appropriately named and a lot more symbolic than I would have thought the first time, all the potential reasons for her suicide, every little truthful and untruthful detail was meticulously chosen, giving the appearance of any real investigation. It is not something to ignore.

It is no surprise that this has gone on to be the most influential book of the twentieth century, and I am glad to finally be able to see why.

When Reading An Awarded Dark Fantasy Book Goes Wrong

Hello, person who is reading this review. If you have seen what I DNF-ed last, this title won't be a mystery for you at all. All of you have most likely seen it, but for those who haven't, today I'm going to share my full thoughts on N. K. Jemisin's most popular book, The Fifth Season. Let's waste no more time and begin with this right now.

A book that is highly regarded in fantasy circles and which has won a Hugo a while back should have been one that I could enjoy immensely as well, or at the very least understand and respect the fact that it won an award (just like Northern Lights/The Golden Compass did, which I loved and picked up the sequel to). This is not a book where I can just shrug it off and say: "Well, that was a popular book that didn't work out for me. Happens all the time." This is awarded, which I will be getting into very soon.

But first, let's talk about the positives. The concept - the struggle of an oppressed people who are oppressed due to their unnatural and fearsome magical powers in a world that has Death as its fifth season, in which everything falls apart and has to be repaired again and again - is not only strikingly original but also harrowing and filled with endless possibilities, able to open up thoughtful discussions about important matters because the author is part of them with fantasy as its backdrop, which allows her to not sound like someone who's writing a preachy non-fiction book way more easily than it would have been possible in a conventional setting, a. k. a. there was lots of potential here. The worldbuilding is well thought-out with lots of history, a deep magic system, information on how communities work, how the people are adjusting in this post-apocalyptic setting, the educational system, and it is one that you can't find anywhere else in fantasy. This is what partially saved the book for me, and I said partially for a reason.

Even from the perspectives of The Broken Earth's equivalent of POCs, I learnt nothing new about racial oppression, and I have only started learning about it. It's not like the author was very subtle and thus I have failed to catch up on it either - the metaphors are much too obvious for that to possibly have happened. But this is merely a minor nitpick, you say. Well, I have more.

The characters are flat, and sometimes they're the completely same person with a different name. Yes, I heard that the three leading women turn out to have been one the whole time, but this just sounds like a cheap trick to justify Jemisin's lack of distinction between not only the personalities but also the voices of the characters. And it's not just the women, either. Everyone sounds exactly the same, and the people around one woman are eerily similar to those around another as well. I don't know how she could ever provide a sufficient explanation for that. Also, the events happening to them are almost exactly the same, as if the writer wanted to have one protagonist in one sticky situation, but couldn't write enough story around them, so she thought that up. I suppose that this shouldn't have been a trilogy due to that, but it's not the only reason.

The prose itself is passable (although there are some annoying quotes), but the quirks in writing Jemisin uses often serve solely to irritate me. All the protagonists have equal screen time, and, as I said, they are the same person, but she uses the second-person point of view in her writing, and merely with one protagonist. She also uses the present tense for a reason I haven't understood before, but now it is clear to me why she might have used those quirks. She was insecure about whether or not her writing could convey enough emotion to the reader, so she used the second person with the protagonist she obviously wanted the reader to connect with the most and present tense with all to create the effect of feeling as if we were there. Telling the reader how to feel is one of the key things you should not use in your writing, as it does nothing more than distracting someone from the story and making you, or at least your book, seem pretentious. Speaking of pretentious, the prologue consists of throwing exposition right at the reader, a. k. a. info-dumping. I let it slide, for I thought that this would disappear after the prologue was over. It didn't. There were times where she carefully put bits of the worldbuilding in the dialogue, but there are also excerpts from made-up history books from the world of Broken Earth once every chapter and times where she would spell out certain aspects of the world to us as if we wouldn't understand otherwise. The world should be explained to the reader slowly and subtly, through some little bits in dialogue and the lives of the characters and the things around them, and she respected this rule only sometimes. The length of the book could have been cut, or at least used more efficiently, if she would have respected it more. From what I have read, I suppose that she continued doing it not only throughout the first book but the rest of the series too because half the first book can surely be counted as acquainting oneself enough with the writing style used in a trilogy. Of course, it can improve a little, but it will largely stay the same. 

The plot consists of travelling and living as an oppressed person. There is a little more to it than that, but those two things are most of the plot. The oppressed mother Essun goes on a journey to get revenge on her missing husband for killing her son and save her daughter before he can kill her too because they both wield orogeny, a. k. a. the power that makes the oppressed people oppressed. Syenite goes on a trip with the man she has to make babies with in the name of the Empire and the Earth since he has orogeny as well to clean a port. Damaya has to go to a military academy-like school to learn how to control her orogeny. They all face discrimination from a lot of the people and otherwise mostly one-dimensional bullies. I love reading about those things (mostly travelling, Lord of the Rings is my favourite fantasy book and one of my favourite books of all time), but no matter how many good elements a book has, it means nothing if they are not executed well. When I said that the plot consists of travelling and living as an oppressed person, I meant that literally. The book just goes on and on about describing the details of all the main characters' travelling, to the point when you wonder if some actual plot is going to happen any time soon. But when the plot does not consist of boring travelling. the characters face one horrible situation after another. I love dark stories, and Notes From Underground, my favourite book, is quite dark and depressing. I also like dystopias, for example, 1984. Miserable stories can be good if the miserable situations that happen in them are placed in the right moments, if you care for the characters that go through them, if there are several moments of hope and levity to balance the misery out, if you care about the setting, if the plot is intriguing, if the misery is there to serve as a vessel for an important message, and/or if the author doesn't try tugging at your heartstrings too hard. But something horrible happens every few pages. Even when something hopeful finally seems to arrive, it is turned on its head as soon as possible. Nothing is good, everything is dark, almost as if an edgy teenager had written the book. I started dreading the next terrible thing that would happen on every page, to the point where I eventually had to return it to the library after trying to read it for a few weeks. And I love both fantastical elements and darkness in my stories. See my problem?

In conclusion, I understand why this book is awarded, and I am not going to judge you for it. We are all tired of stories where the main characters face no real hardships and everything is handed to them on a silver platter like the perfect little angels that they are because of some prophecy or something, and darkness can help with adding depth. N. K. Jemisin is also clearly a competent writer from what I can see, even though I do not agree with some of her choices in the writing of this book. I also believe in second chances, which is why I will start reading her other popular dark fantasy series, Inheritance Trilogy, at some point in the future. Goodbye and have a nice day.

That Special Time At The End Of October

What is your favourite holiday? Easter, Christmas, New Year... Or perhaps you prefer the spooky yet peaceful time when you can dress up in a costume and participate in gathering sweets for yourself and your family that happens on the last day of the silent month when autumn has fully started without any days of summer and winter is far from appearing? Personally, I have never celebrated Halloween, and I'm a real genius for having read Something Wicked This Way Comes during the hot days of July, but now is better than never. 

What can I say about this book? Those who love the magic of carnivals and all the wonders that they can do, the nostalgic and comforting taste of the food that is served and reminds us of the olden days, the various attractions that they offer, might become less sure about that upon having read this book. While it is not exactly terrifying, it is spooky, and Bradbury's prose in this book helps build the atmosphere. It also helps that this is more than just a standard "good vs evil" story about an evil circus and coming-of-age. There are also many philosophical concepts presented with complex metaphors, which is impressive, especially when you consider that this is supposed to be a book for children, who are often pandered and talked down to just because they happen to be naive and know less than adults, some of whom often seem to mistake this for stupidity. 

There are some great descriptions, yet it's more than that. Ray Bradbury could have just written the book in normal prose, but then the whole point he wanted to make with it would be missed. He over-described everything on purpose, trying to make it feel like you yourself were in a circus for a night, gazing at one wondrous attraction and then the other, which helps build the atmosphere. However, that can also be a flaw. At one point, he described the shadows as "smelling like urine" and the moon as "having the smell of ice" (paraphrasing) in the same scene. This is not an isolated incident. The story was sometimes hard to follow, and sometimes it made the story more boring, sometimes both, especially between the middle and the climax.

The characters also felt a bit flat. Charles Halloway and Mr. Dark are great characters that will stay in my mind for a long time, but the characterization was not one of Bradbury's strengths in this novel. Will was the good boy. Jim was the well-meaning, yet mischievous boy. And the others are even weaker. 

That is it for this review. Goodbye and see you next time.

The Fault In My Stars

Hello and welcome to my blog! I know that you may deem it inappropriate that my first blog post is filled with negativity, but I think that a certain book of John Green's might be a bit overrated. Let me tell you about my experience with The Fault In Our Stars.

For years, I have been part of the writing and reading community. Since very recently, I have been tracking what's popular in America and the UK because I'm Serbian. I have been hearing a lot about the Young Adult genre and what a lot of other people my age like. John Green is among the authors I've been hearing the most about. I have looked at his portfolio and have been intrigued by his books for a while now, especially by his most popular work, The Fault In Our Stars. However, my reading list has always been quite large, so I never really got around to reading anything by him until now. 

Then, an opportunity came to start exploring his work through a buddy read on Goodreads, where I'm new, but where I have also made a couple of friends. A person whose name I don't want to reveal for the sake of privacy had no one to buddy read The Fault In Our Stars with. I agreed to read it with her and another girl. 

First, everything went great. I had some minor complaints, but none of them held much water.

Now here come the negatives. Let me tell you the positives quickly:

- John Green knows how to immerse you into a story. The book had this feeling where it always made me want to know more.

- His prose is special and hits hard at times because of its quality. He knows how to write nice sentences.

- I really liked Hazel, Isaac and Gus's family members.

That's all, folks. Now onto the negatives:

- Inconsistent writing style. It's noticeable, really. Sometimes when the characters speak, the story is written in a modern way, complete with dialogue tags. Other times when the characters speak, the dialogue is written as if everyone were in a play, complete with the names of the characters speaking before everything else. More people should have noticed this. It's just that simple.

- Shallow characterization. Hazel is obsessed with a book, antisocial and spouts pretentious quotes. Augustus is obsessed with a video game, dorky and spouts pretentious quotes. Isaac is Augustus' blind friend who plays his favourite video game with him and is dumped by the girl he loved so much. They're the deepest characters in the book, which is saying something.

- The lack of plot. Hazel and Augustus have got cancer, but Augustus seems to be getting better. Hazel is obsessed with a book called An Imperial Affliction and makes Augustus obsessed with it as well. They go to Amsterdam to meet the author because he ended the book mid-sentence. They fall in love and have relationship problems. The author turns out to be a jerk. One of them will die. Yeah, that's pretty much it.

- The lack of chemistry between Hazel and Augustus. Hazel meets him and goes to his house within five minutes. They bond a little and form a friendship. Then they fall in love. Then they have sex. Then one of them - Hazel - weeps over the death of the other. That's how it felt.

- Disrespect towards the Holocaust. While in Amsterdam, Hazel and Augustus go to the house Anne Frank spent two years in suffering. A video in which Otto Frank's grief is displayed is playing in the background. There are a lot of adults around. They kiss. Everything goes silent and people stare at them weirdly. They think that everyone is mad at them, but instead, everyone claps and cheers as they keep kissing. See my problem with this?

- Emotional manipulation. John Green wants to make sure that you feel sorry for his characters at every opportunity. His choice of words makes it deliberate on his part. He mocks other cancer books for their messages of hope and perseverance and decides to make everything as depressing as he can. Because depressing = realistic. I know that reality is far from heaven, but it isn't hell either. Anyway, he tugs at your heartstrings, wishing for you to release the water from your tear canals for the perfect little angel Gus as he's dying. It would have worked better if that angel wasn't pretentious and two-dimensional, aka if John Green just let him and the story breathe normally.

And, since I titled this The Fault In MY Stars, I want to tell you another story before ending this blog post. I don't want any particular kind of reaction from you. I just want you to listen. I had a classmate whom I went to school with for four years. She died of sickness a year ago. We weren't best friends, and it wasn't exactly cancer, but it was still painful for me. I never went to her grave, and the guilt over that stayed with me. It is still with me. When Gus died, the already emotionally manipulative scene became even more successful in its intentions. I needed some time to rest after that. I was also a bit tired, so there's that.

Well, that's how I feel about The Fault In Our Stars for the most part. I have expressed only the main points here. I think I have presented a clear enough picture of the situation. Goodbye and see you next time!