Book Review: The Melancholy of Mechagirl (Catherynne M Valente)

This short book caught my eye, with the promise of offering a collection of sci-fi that focuses on robots, artificial intelligence, and the human consciousness, with the exotic backdrop of Japan and the surreal tropes of the cyberpunk genre.  The stories definitely offer all of that and more, but it becomes clear very fast that the author's heart and soul is firmly rooted in Japan, and every page is imbued with traces of Japanese culture, myth, and style.  Actual sci-fi storytelling is diminished in favor of the art of pure expressionism.

In spite of this, I found the stories to be utterly convoluted, dense, and bizarre - easily some of the most confusing and frustrating prose I've read since William Gibson's Neuromancer, or William S. Burroughs' Naked Lunch.  Like these other texts, Mrs. Valente's work shows a uniquely masterful manipulation of words and sentence syntax, to give each story its own unique texture and feeling.  These aspects make her stories stand out artistically, but like Gibson and Burroughs, the content is so surreal and abstract that it defies the standard conventions of literary narratives.  Thus, the most of the stories went over my head without much resonance.

To be fair, there are bursts of the text that I found engaging.  The opening story, Melancholy of Mechagirl, is a kind of poem told in the perspective of robot with a female consciousness, and I thought it was cool.  Thirteen Ways of Looking at Space/Time is a very interesting 13-part tale that entwines the life of a sci-fi writer with different variants of creation myths (I wonder how much of this story is based on Valente's own life and thoughts).  These chapters include very bizarre but thought-provoking combinations of classical myth with scientific terminology.  Killswitch is an interesting short story (or maybe I found it interesting because it's about a video game; I kinda wish it was a real one).

Unfortunately, I found everything else to be a little too far-out for my tastes.  This includes the very meaty stories of Ink, Water, Milk, Fade to White, and Silently and Very Fast.  They drone on for many pages, but never really engaged me on any level; I found no characters I could really care about, and no conflicts that kept me invested.  Ghosts of Gunkanjima started off well, but I quickly lost interest.  Same for Story No. 6.  I hardly even remember how the other stories - Fifteen Panels Depicting the Sadness of the Baku and the Jotai, One Break One Stroke, Emperor of Tsukayama Park, Memoirs of a Girl Who Failed to be Born From a Peach, and The Girl With Two Skins - they all failed to captivate me personally.

All that being said, I can't deny that Valente's craftsmanship is unique, vivid, and worth a look on its own merits.  Chances are that there are readers who will love her work and find it more engaging than I.  It is an interesting blend of all things fantastic, futuristic, and real, drawing upon inspirations from her own life, her surroundings, and her imagination.

This book is brimming with art in its purest form.  It's not art that I can personally appreciate, except in short bursts, but the more high-brow readers may find it engaging.  I would recommend giving Valente's stories a look.

3/5 (Entertainment:  Poor | Stories:  Mixed | Book:  Very Good)

Book Review: Naked Lunch (William S Burroughs)

Naked Lunch might be the most challenging book I've encountered.  Part of it is because of the book's namesake, which asks the reader to take a good long look at the end of the fork and see the lunch they're eating, fully exposed, for what it is.  Or, perhaps this is more accurately Burroughs himself looking at his own lunch, which had become defiled after ingesting massive quantities of opiates throughout his life.  Ultimately, that's really what this book is:  it's every random thing he jotted down while under the influence, and none of it is particularly pretty.

The other part of the challenge is that the book makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.  I couldn't tell you what the plot actually is; it's a haphazard concoction of many short pieces strung together continuously.  Most of the characters are nameless, identified only by vague designators like "The Mark," "The Vigilante," "The Exterminator," and so forth.  None of them stand out as anybody with definition or depth.  They all exist in a strange foreign place called the Interzone, which is home to both men and some weird creatures called Mugwumps.  Nearly every episode in this book involves extreme amounts of perverse sex, sadistic violence, and a rather distasteful penchant for endless discharges (or even consumption) of bodily wastes.  Sometimes all of these things are rolled together in one disturbing scene after another.  The sickening details seep through every line of the book, offering tales that are mean-spirited and vulgar.  Beyond the sheer shock value, I really couldn't tell what was going on with this book.  Especially during all its digressions, such as when the book repeatedly breaks into some kind of random courtroom scene, or turns into a movie set or something.  Seriously, what the f*!k is this bull$@&t?

The prose, however, is surprisingly lucid in its own right.  This is one of those books (perhaps one of the first even) that manages to combine words and phrases that shouldn't go together in ingenious ways to deliver abstract scenes with a remarkable level of texture.  The sentences flow well and are hardly ever dull.  Much of what's said may not make sense, but given the way it is said, it's hard to tell if Burroughs was a madman or a genius.

There was a South Park episode, where one of the kids wrote a book that was about nothing but defecation, and it became a renowned smash hit that everybody praised as a masterpiece.  I kinda wonder if that show was meant to parody the success of Naked Lunch, because it certainly feels like the book uses so much disgusting content to shock and repulse the reader, but it's hard to tell if there's really anything worth saying.  I got to admit that it's written in an interesting way, like a form of literary freestyling, which could push it into levels of artistic merit, but I feel the content is not only horrid, but also convoluted and messy.  Thus, I don't know if I should call it good or terrible literature, but its definitely distasteful.  I think I prefer David Cronenberg's film adaptation over this; at least it had a plot.

3/5 (Experience:  Extreme | Content:  Awful | Book:  Mixed)

Film Review: Eraserhead

When it comes to cinema as an art form, very few films, if any, are as abstract and bizarre as David Lynch's first-ever feature-length film: Eraserhead. Like any piece of art, some people will embrace it, others will shun it. Most are content to give it a shot and never see it again.

It truly is an experience unlike any other. The film takes place in its own little world: a dark, grungy, industrial nightmare laden with stark patterns, shadows, and odd details. Characters don't have much to say, leaving their odd actions and reactions to tell most of the story. There are numerous expressionist images that will truly challenge one's understanding of what's going on: I seriously can't say why this film has a scene with a man on another planet, or why there's an ugly lady dancing inside a radiator, or why there are worm-like things everywhere. The film has its share of grotesqueness, from the crying of a strange mutant baby to the bizarre nightmare where the guy loses his head and it literally becomes a pencil eraser...the film packs in so much weirdness, but it runs evenly and hypnotically, to the point where it's all effortless and natural for the strange world Lynch has created.

The film's content doesn't really follow a standard narrative, so interpreting its plot will depend entirely on the viewer and what he or she makes of the images. The most obvious thing is that this is about some dude having to put up with the horrors and fears of parenthood. You could probably watch the film and extrapolate psychological and sexual subtexts as well. Characters don't have much to them, but it's easy to relate to the protagonist through all his surreal visions, no matter how harrowing they become.

The film uses some very strong, vivid, and stark imagery, all shot with fantastic black-and-white photography. Editing is really precise and good. All of the actors fulfill their parts well. Dialogue tends to be pretty short, blunt, and weird. This was never really an expensive or elaborate production, so considering the film's limitations, it really made the most of what it had. Sound design is very punchy, while the music is extremely airy and surreal, giving the film the perfect atmosphere.

Eraserhead is a strange, surreal, gaudy piece of work that may not make much sense to a casual viewer. As a work of art, it is phenomenal, and all mature audiences should give it a try at least once.

5/5 (Experience: Extreme | Content: Extreme | Film: Perfect)