11/22/63 is a time travel novel by Stephen King. I did not like the book, but could not give King a one-star rating (I did not like it), so gave the book two-stars (it was okay). I kept thinking: If Walter Mosley had written this book it would have been 1/2 as long and twice as good.
A glitch allows travel from 2011 to September 9, 1958. No matter how long a time traveler stays in 1958, when he returns to 2011, only two minutes have passed. Can not say much without spoiling the story for any who might read this post and read the book. Will just say that Jake is going to spend some time in the past in order to prevent Oswald from assassinating JFK. The moral of the tale could be that if we change the past, we change the future.
Author, Richard Bach taught me how that could be done with his novel, Illusions; The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. It is all about changing our perceptions about the past; the historical facts stay the same, but the way we view the events can positively impact our now (or future). Kind did that a lot in the first chapters of his novel (adding parentheses). I vowed I would never do it again as it got downright annoying. I even re-wrote some of the sentences in my head as I read ~ did not need them, Master King.
Why I did not like the book: too darn long. Perhaps if it was a snow bound Pocono Mountain winter when Internet did not yet exist, I may have liked the book as much as I liked King's earlier novels. Yet it seemed 11/22/63 was a series or interconnected short stories and I was mainly interested in how Jake would prevent Oswald's assassination or would he fail to do so.
I enjoyed the 2011 part of the tale and was also impatient for Jake to leave the past, return to the present and see how time travel affected his life. Instead I had to wade through dances, movies, boxing matches, what songs were playing on the radio and so on. Bored. Okay, I get it: details to give authentic feel for the time. Or for those who are nostalgic for a simpler place and time. I guess there had to be something happening to while away 5 years, yet too much for me.
I wrote a bit about 11/22/63 on my Homeless in Long Beach blog. These quotes may have belong there:
"...the way Mohreschildt listened. He did it as the world's more charming and magnetic people do, always asking the right question at the right time, never fidgeting or taking his eyes from the speaker's face, making the other guy feel like the most knowledgeable, brilliant, and intellectually savvy person on the planet."
"..giving myself the old advice, don't look back, never look back." That may/may not be a coincidence, because whenever someone posts one of those cutesy things at Facebook about forgetting the past, I compose words in my head that I force myself not to type into the comment box. King says people seldom heed the advice. "Humans were built to look back; that's why we have that swivel joint in our necks."
Just prior to reading that I was again thinking about forgetting the past. "God put our eyeballs in front of our heads, so we would look forward, not look back," the arsejet told me. At the time I thought it insightful. I also thought it stupid: if our eyes were in the back of our heads, then our backs would be our front, else how could we see where we were going? Ah, if I could travel back in time and tell him about 'God' giving us swivel necks so we could look back ~ over our shoulders.
Those who can not remember the past are condemned to repeat it, versus, Never let yesterday use up today.
An old, old argument floated back to mind while I was contemplating the "forget the past, there is no future in it" type Facebook copy/pastes. "You're living in the past," my ex used to shout at me. Well, no, I was living in the present moment, talking about the past. The unforgettable time he did thus and such and the result was bad. Of course, he would not listen to reason, and try it my way this time and one more time: bad results.
I do not see how it possible for anyone but a time traveler to actually live in the past. A person may retain habits, such as my mother's refusal to get a push button telephone, hanging on to the black rotary dial phone rather than change with the times. Yet she was not living in the old days; she was right there, right then.
Keep on walking, don't look back, lyrics often float into my brain. I thought it good advice and probably used the song to keep me moving forward, coming to terms with heart ache and sorrow, not wallowing in it. Yet do not see reading about this in the novel as much of a coincidence.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Pulse
I wrote about Pulse by Edna Buchanan on Homeless in Long Beach blog due to homeless mentions. I am not doing a book review on this one, except for a short blurb at Goodreads.
The main character in Pulse, Frank, had a heart transplant. That reminded me of my Facebook game friend, Denise who had one herself. She does not hang at Facebook much anymore. Do not know if she returned to playing the games I used to stay at longer than I wanted to, because they were her favorites. I find the whole idea of organ transplants creepy, but would not say that to Denise who pushes for people to donate organs.
I used to have my driver's license set so that my body could be donated ~ to science ~ for study, because I am quite positive none of my organs would be healthy enough for a transplant. Then I read that the donor's heirs had to pay for the transport of organ or something like that and now check No to organ or body donation.
Denise educated me on that aspect; donors are never billed for their gift. Yet, I put some thought into it and decided no thank you. Even to save a life? Since I used to believe that the body is a prison for the soul, death appealed to me. If its your time to go, go peacefully into the next dimension. Now that I am closer to death, not sure how I feel about all of that.
Anyway, what I found interesting about Pulse was mentions of cellular memory being transplanted along with the organ. A hear is just a pump, a doctor explains in the book, yet it has long been associated with love or the seat of emotions. Could the recipient of the heart (or other organ) take on aspects of the deceased's personality, remember their memories? I want to ask Denise if she has had any otherworldly experiences since obtaining her new heart. Someone else's heart.
A quote from the book: "I know ESP is a fact. Didn't you ever know exactly what somebody was gonna say before they they said it? Or that the phone was about to ring and who was calling? Or think of people you haven't seen in years and then cross paths them the next day?" There is more about dream premonitions or signs of passing of loved one.
I have not thought about that stuff for years. Worry about mental health. Since I believed that everyone has ESP but do not know it, believe in spirits and all of that, I thought his deceased grandmother's voice in my head telling me: Feed him, was real. Now know it was the product of my vivid imagination and slight psychosis, as Dr. Mike called it.
Fear now to go back to the mindset that trusted spiritual things, or stuff like ESP, not knowing how to recognize what is the result of brain chemical imbalances resulting from PTSD. Enjoyed reading about the possibility of bringing another's person into oneself after an organ transplant.
The main character in Pulse, Frank, had a heart transplant. That reminded me of my Facebook game friend, Denise who had one herself. She does not hang at Facebook much anymore. Do not know if she returned to playing the games I used to stay at longer than I wanted to, because they were her favorites. I find the whole idea of organ transplants creepy, but would not say that to Denise who pushes for people to donate organs.
I used to have my driver's license set so that my body could be donated ~ to science ~ for study, because I am quite positive none of my organs would be healthy enough for a transplant. Then I read that the donor's heirs had to pay for the transport of organ or something like that and now check No to organ or body donation.
Denise educated me on that aspect; donors are never billed for their gift. Yet, I put some thought into it and decided no thank you. Even to save a life? Since I used to believe that the body is a prison for the soul, death appealed to me. If its your time to go, go peacefully into the next dimension. Now that I am closer to death, not sure how I feel about all of that.
Anyway, what I found interesting about Pulse was mentions of cellular memory being transplanted along with the organ. A hear is just a pump, a doctor explains in the book, yet it has long been associated with love or the seat of emotions. Could the recipient of the heart (or other organ) take on aspects of the deceased's personality, remember their memories? I want to ask Denise if she has had any otherworldly experiences since obtaining her new heart. Someone else's heart.
A quote from the book: "I know ESP is a fact. Didn't you ever know exactly what somebody was gonna say before they they said it? Or that the phone was about to ring and who was calling? Or think of people you haven't seen in years and then cross paths them the next day?" There is more about dream premonitions or signs of passing of loved one.
I have not thought about that stuff for years. Worry about mental health. Since I believed that everyone has ESP but do not know it, believe in spirits and all of that, I thought his deceased grandmother's voice in my head telling me: Feed him, was real. Now know it was the product of my vivid imagination and slight psychosis, as Dr. Mike called it.
Fear now to go back to the mindset that trusted spiritual things, or stuff like ESP, not knowing how to recognize what is the result of brain chemical imbalances resulting from PTSD. Enjoyed reading about the possibility of bringing another's person into oneself after an organ transplant.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Turn of Mind
Did not finish reading Turn of Mind by Alice LaPlante. A retired orthopedic surgeon is in the beginning stages of dementia when her best friend, another elderly woman is murdered. Four of the corpse's fingers had been surgically removed making Dr. White a prime suspect.
At first I like the different style of the novel. The paragraphs are short, sometimes only a sentence or two. The story is told through Dr. White's eyes, remembering, forgetting, thoughts on things going on around her, past memories returning, fading, not knowing her son and daughter, then knowing them.
After a while it became too jarring to read. I wanted to know if the doc did the deed; I wanted to read about the body being discovered and stuff like that. It was taking too long to advance the plot. Felt bad that I could not force self to read anymore of this one.
I learned about senility from my Grandmother Stark. The word Alzheimer was not used in my home in those days. I learned more about it from my mother telling me about Aunt Ida. She did not use the word dementia, but that is what ailed Aunt Ida. My mother's brother, Francis, took care of his wife until her death. Then he too was afflicted as was my Uncle John. Mom felt bad when she visited him in a nursing home and he did not know who she was.
For a short time I took care of a man with Alzheimer's. Doors were kept locked to keep the man indoors, keys hidden. That was my first in person experience with the dementia. My grandma was just forgetful, repeating herself, not recognizing people. My second experience was taking care of my mother who was aware her mind was deteriorating; made jokes about it.
LaPlante writes her characters well. Caregivers often lose patience; patients often pretend to take their meds; that kind of stuff ~ all incorporated into what I read of the tale. Wish I could have finished the book, but so many books, so little time, so on to another one.
At first I like the different style of the novel. The paragraphs are short, sometimes only a sentence or two. The story is told through Dr. White's eyes, remembering, forgetting, thoughts on things going on around her, past memories returning, fading, not knowing her son and daughter, then knowing them.
After a while it became too jarring to read. I wanted to know if the doc did the deed; I wanted to read about the body being discovered and stuff like that. It was taking too long to advance the plot. Felt bad that I could not force self to read anymore of this one.
I learned about senility from my Grandmother Stark. The word Alzheimer was not used in my home in those days. I learned more about it from my mother telling me about Aunt Ida. She did not use the word dementia, but that is what ailed Aunt Ida. My mother's brother, Francis, took care of his wife until her death. Then he too was afflicted as was my Uncle John. Mom felt bad when she visited him in a nursing home and he did not know who she was.
For a short time I took care of a man with Alzheimer's. Doors were kept locked to keep the man indoors, keys hidden. That was my first in person experience with the dementia. My grandma was just forgetful, repeating herself, not recognizing people. My second experience was taking care of my mother who was aware her mind was deteriorating; made jokes about it.
LaPlante writes her characters well. Caregivers often lose patience; patients often pretend to take their meds; that kind of stuff ~ all incorporated into what I read of the tale. Wish I could have finished the book, but so many books, so little time, so on to another one.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
The Sisters
Have not gotten very far with this blog. Got disgusted one day trying to add an image where I wanted it for a book review, written, but not bothering to submit to Yahoo Voices. Perhaps I will work on it this week.
Since I started this to publish articles already written, which are mostly book reviews, will add thoughts on books read here.
I wrote about The Sisters by Nancy Jensen on my Homeless in Long Beach blog due to an almost homeless mention ~ vagrant was the word used.
I joined Good Reads. Gave this book a two star rating meaning "It was okay." I might have given it a one, meaning "I didn't like it", except there were parts of the novel that I enjoyed reading.
Asked what she learned from Vietnam war veterans a photographer said: "That for them the war won't ever be over....I don't think any real war ever is--large, small, between countries, between people. Even the wars inside ourselves. Something always remains."
People preach to forgive and forget. I have found it impossible to forget things; much worse for those who experience wars first hand. And other horrors. The wars may be over; vivid snap shots arrive clearly in mind keeping memories alive. Or the tape of words etched forever in the mind, show up at odd times of their own violation. How to forgive the one who started the war, inflicted the pain when the memories never go away. Scars a constant reminder of the battles.
Thus I liked character's "never ending war" comments.
A soldier told her that a peace symbol was a broken cross. Interesting thought; yet Jesus said he did not come to bring peace, but with a sword to divide, including families.
Since I started this to publish articles already written, which are mostly book reviews, will add thoughts on books read here.
I wrote about The Sisters by Nancy Jensen on my Homeless in Long Beach blog due to an almost homeless mention ~ vagrant was the word used.
I joined Good Reads. Gave this book a two star rating meaning "It was okay." I might have given it a one, meaning "I didn't like it", except there were parts of the novel that I enjoyed reading.
Asked what she learned from Vietnam war veterans a photographer said: "That for them the war won't ever be over....I don't think any real war ever is--large, small, between countries, between people. Even the wars inside ourselves. Something always remains."
People preach to forgive and forget. I have found it impossible to forget things; much worse for those who experience wars first hand. And other horrors. The wars may be over; vivid snap shots arrive clearly in mind keeping memories alive. Or the tape of words etched forever in the mind, show up at odd times of their own violation. How to forgive the one who started the war, inflicted the pain when the memories never go away. Scars a constant reminder of the battles.
Thus I liked character's "never ending war" comments.
A soldier told her that a peace symbol was a broken cross. Interesting thought; yet Jesus said he did not come to bring peace, but with a sword to divide, including families.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)