Smug, crass,  but original subversion of perspective
937843
Smug, pompous, overly pleased with himself for using 'flatulence' instead of 'fart' type language. Poor start. Somewhat farcical fantasy, broad, frequently undergraduate humour (think Black Adder for the coarseness and vocabulary, but without the wit). Almost no attempt to make different races, tribes, lands cohere - protagonist just wanders about bumping into barely two dimensional characters and settings.
But ... nice, relatively original broad approach, in two ways.
1) The hero just gets buffeted about, little or no control, and definitely little help from the author to propel him onto steadily greater conquests; indeed, he often has no idea what's going on;
2) I didn?t actually realise I'd read the first book in the series (The Wizards and the Warlords) until more than half way in. The only way this book integrates is that instead of it being from the view of people making wars and changing events, it's from the view of someone just bowled along beside and in them, generally with no idea what's going on. Eventually you realise the events are the ones you read about in book one, but you, like the central character, also have no idea and are just getting through trying to survive. One chapter foregrounds this, the narrator saying that, were the protagonist more articulate, in addressing the role of the individual in history he?d state:
'History is what we understand. The rest is a waking nightmare. History is the explanation of who holds the knife. Without that explanation, all we understand is the pain.'
I remember being annoyed at the beginning of the first book at the way Cook blithely has a 3000 year old wizard die because he does some stupid things - that anyone who'd survived for a fraction of that time would have the nous not to do. But he's all about demystifying heroes, saying they do do stupid things at times.
He gets better once he gets into a book. His strengths are escaping the formula success story plots, and rare things like the last quote have some profundity, particularly in the context. In 'A Game of Thrones' George R.R. Martin was likewise willing to let his heroes unexpectedly suffer or even die, but he also built a grand, unified mythology/realm with some cohesive history (as opposed to random ideas), and created some decent characters.
2121993
This is a fantastic book. Readers of Saunders's work will recognize his style as well as some stories from The New Yorker, Harper's and elsewhere, but that familiarity should just enhance the experience. Nothing is lost in the second or third reading of these pieces except perhaps surprise. And even that quality remains, since his minimalist extravagances keep yielding new meanings even as they strip language down to its most crass and inarticulate forms. The structure of the book is intriguing: the four sections organize the stories thematically, but I could only sense the organization. In this "persuasion nation" advertising and paranoia are fused into a twisted positivism that relies on heedless change, commercial success, and cynical manipulation of political/religious values. It looks like our world of Fox, Botox, and Vioxx, but all restraints have been removed. The corporations have got it all: disorder, chaos, and fear run rampant. And it's all very funny, thanks to the branding, slapstick, dry wit, science and math, love of clich, and masterful elision. None of this prevents deep sadness from oozing to the surface, either. The characters are flat and blasted, but their predicament is still pathetic enough and their yearning for light, hope, and meaning real enough to elicit our sympathy. While murder and cruelty reign, a spark of humanity still shines through the darkness. The cover picture, which seems to illustrate the end of "jon," is about right: a damaged boy finding a precious flower on stony ground still has the power to move us. When I finished In Persuasion Nation, I didn't feel that I'd been given a key to reality, but I looked at our bloated, terrorized world with a bit more distance and a wry smile. We need all the irony we can get.
925747
"The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade" is, as its title would suggest, a satirical farce. In spite of its wit and the occasional laugh, however, it is the hardest of all Melville's works to follow, in no small part because its lead character keeps changing his identity--and that is assuming, by the way, that there's just one lead character to begin with. If at times the novel feels like a patchwork, it's because it is: Melville merged a number of stories and travel pieces originally intended for magazine publication into a continuous, claustrophobic cyclorama.

Set on the Mississippi River on April Fool's Day, "The Confidence-Man" follows the interrelated episodes and adventures of a stream of passengers who board and disembark a steamboat. Many of the confidence men (and their prophetic counterparts) may be the same person in various disguises. (Melville's deliberate obfuscation on this point has launched a hundred academic papers.)

The various scoundrels, shills, suckers, and shape-shifters are a parade of American types: "men of business and men of pleasure; parlor men and backwoodsmen; farm-hunters and fame-hunters; heiress-hunters, gold-hunters, buffalo-hunters, bee-hunters, happiness-hunters, truth-hunters, and still keener hunters after all these hunters." Everyone on board is trying to sell something or to swindle someone or to raise money for a charity or to find a job or to convince a fellow passenger of his own integrity. A persistent theme is the typically American monomaniacal pursuit of money.

"I am neither prophet nor charlatan," says a peddler of medicine to a sick man. "But again I say, you must have confidence." Yet only a fool would have confidence, and this insecurity leads to an irrational paranoia. Nobody can trust anyone: "it is one of the imbecilities of the suspicious person to fancy that every stranger, however absent-minded, he sees so much as smiling or gesturing to himself in any odd sort of way, is secretly making him his butt."

For obvious reasons, "The Confidence-Man" is considered the precursor of the modernist novel. As an academic exercise, it's both intriguing and (to use a technical term) "mind-blowing." And there is certainly a steady stream of quotable aphorisms and clever anecdotes. Yet I also found the novel to be frustrating: somewhat like entering a labyrinth from which there is no hope of escape or solution--and at the end of the book you're still stuck in the maze. The farce is a lot of fun initially but it becomes a bit maddening and repetitive after reaching one too many of the novel's narrative dead ends.

As one of Melville's contemporary reviewers noted, the novel makes as much sense if the chapters are read in reverse order, and the "characters" are distinguishable not by their personalities as much as they are defined by their wholly predictable actions and reactions. Halfway down the Old Muddy, after meeting the Melville's umpteenth American stereotype, I realized that the novel had no Bartleby or Nippers, nor, for that matter, would readers be introduced to a K. or an Olga. Instead, "The Confidence-Man" is like Kafka without characters.
2525857
Long on hubris and short on talent, this collection demonstrates the unfortunate trend of watered-down "tough guy" urban lit that has proliferated in
the DIY generation. Wiith aspirations to Algren, Bukowski and David Goodis, this self-published work falls short of even pale imitations of
those genre masters and renders each story a homunculus of self-aggrandized navel- gazing. From the smug and ridiculous cover to
the last head-scratching image, this book is best reserved for those who crave sub-mediocre musings on a vastly uninteresting terrain.
2973143
Ralph is no ordinary infant.  Inside his one-year-old body is a fully matured, literate mind hell-bent to excoriate academia like a post-modern Voltaire.  Glyphically eschewing speech, Ralph wields his pen as if it were  a rapier tipped with deadly acerbic wit.  One by one, the inflated  pretensions of the unrepentant deconstructionists are skewered and burst.  This erudite satire by Percival Everett requires some inside knowledge of  the intellectual gymnastics performed at Western universities during the  past few decades, which may limit its audience.  But for those who venture  forward, their efforts to discern and dissect ultimately will be rewarded.  The thing I will remember most about the book, however, is the moment when  the author interjects (almost as an aside) the most startling expose of  racial stereotyping I have ever read.  I can still feel the shudder of  recognition that even I, who profess total inclusion, may harbor the seeds  of racism deep within my psyche.
4467512
Like a cross between Ridgemont High and John Hughes's Shermer High, Tom Perrotta's fictional Winwood High might serve as metaphor--a microcosm of American society: the clash of egos, the petty conflicts, the cynical view of civics. But I think that a (perhaps unintended) theme--a preoccupation, really--of "Election" is that adults, when immersed long enough in the  world of teenagers, become indistinguishable from their wards. Certainly history teacher Jim McAllister allows the wall that separates him from his students to crumble. Like his disgraced colleague Jack Dexter, who has had an affair with student Tracy Flick, McAllister loses his way when he behaves like the adolescent he isn't.

The blurring of lines between adulthood and adolescence is only further muddied, unfortunately, by the similarity of the various first-person voices that populate Perrotta's story. If it weren't for the subheads helpfully telling us who's speaking at any given moment, it would be difficult to tell Mr. McAllister and his students apart; many of their accounts read like droll depositions given in a juvenile court proceeding.

When the individuality of the characters does become discernible, however, the portraits often flirt precariously with stereotype--the ambitious overachiever Tracy, the dumb jock Paul Warren, his sister the cynical slacker Tammy Warren--and the depictions of the adults who infiltrate the playground often read like unintentional farce. Even a cameo appearance by the school janitor is written through the same prism of monotone minimalism, while the school principal Walt Hendricks is little more than a watered-down re-creation of Ed Rooney, the petty tyrant of "Ferris Bueller."

Not quite realism, not quite parody, the novel does manage to capture successfully the comic parochialism of a suburban high school and the exaggerated misfortunes of youth. The plot twists keep these students and their hapless teacher somewhat interesting, and it's a fun read (and certainly not as profound as it pretends to be). Yet there's a "written for the screen" aspect to the novel that underscores the undeniable slightness of the prose and that invites comparisons to the many motion pictures from the past three decades that have handled this material with far more nuance and wit.
2727715
HERO SQUARED isn't everyone's cup of tea. If you're looking for conventional cape and cowl action, then just walk away, brother, walk away. This bit of warped superhero storytelling comes off more like a self-contained one-man play (except there are four key characters). HERO SQUARED is dialogue-heavy, bicker-heavy, banter-heavy. When things come to a head, and you brace yourself for the epic superhero brawl... nuh-uh. Instead the participants go consult a therapist. If you're in a mood and a mind set to take in an alternative superhero narrative, you're knockin' at the right door.

For young, scrawny slacker Milo Eustace Stone, here's a question: What if your alternate universe counterpart shows up and he's a superhero? What if this guy,calling himself Captain Valor, exhibits an impressive frame - and remember you're scrawny - and a selfless demeanor - and remember you're a self-absorbed scumsack? And then what if this Captain Valor falls in love with your perfect girlfriend, Stephie? And that she likes him too because, frankly, he's a version of you, improved to the nth power? How would that make you feel? Yeah.

Except that as things unfold, it falls out that not even the superhero is perfect. Captain Valor had escaped the annihilation of his world, had found his way to the "real" world, in which before he'd only ever existed as a comic book character. But Valor didn't come alone, having been pursued by his arch-nemesis, the fearsome Lord Caliginous. Who, as earlier issues have revealed, turns out to be an insane  alternate universe doppelganger of Stephie. So this would be a weird story only if the relationships don't get all dysfunctional.

Milo rants about Valor's unrealistic "superhero" worldview; Valor accuses Milo of lacking drive and work ethic. And there's more bedhopping going on here than in a French sex farce. The four main characters are pretty effed up, and the story doesn't hold back from exploring their fractured psyches. So, it's breezy chuckles on the surface, emotional hell underneath ("Bwa-hoo-hoo?"). Keith Giffen and J.M DeMatteis are back to their old tricks. As in the wildly popular JLI series, here they establish that patented rapid-fire jibber-jabber. And, to be honest, there are moments when their routine verges on the tired. Some of them old jokes may have gone around the carousel too many times, and the humor feels forced.

Another element borrowed from the JLI series - and this is really annoying - is the presence of the villain's fawning sidekick. L-Ron toadied for Manga Khan in JLI. Sloat, green-skinned and gross, boot licks for Lord Caliginous. The only gratification to this is that Caliginous smacks Sloat around with gleeful abandon. Take that, Sloat.

The three issues comprising HERO SQUARED: LOVE AND DEATH tie a bow around the series and presents a resolution to all the soap opera. I turned to the last page and felt this sort of relief that Giffen and DeMatteis gave their characters a nice send-off. But I'm still not sure just exactly what the hell happened. I was thrown a bit off track by the abruptness of the ending and the late introduction of the Captain Valor Corps (which comes off as yet another gag). And I like this series, so I imagine readers seeking more traditional superhero fare might have a bug up their bums over the story arc's more bizarre, non-traditional elements. On the art side of things, the excellent Joe Abraham makes way for Nathan Watson and their styles are similar enough that there's no jarring effect. They both have a knack for articulating facial expressions and body language. They ain't Kevin Maguire, but they ain't Rob Liefeld, either.
3493712
Jonathan Coe dishes up his trademark satire on the realities of contemporary UK culture, slamming everything from the exploitative employment of Chinese illegals, the Iraq war, the inhuman obscenities of reality TV, Internet abuse, government austerity cuts, lives of grinding poverty, the inconsistencies of the justice and health systems, the monetisation of everything, the feebleness of academia, the glittering literary prize circus, Scotland Yard policing strategy, to the mega basement developments and ostentatious expenditure of Chelseas super-rich set determined to get their kids into the UKs best schools and universities.

He contrives his characters and sub-plots entirely to accommodate these satires. Otherwise, the stories of Rachel, Alison, Phoebe, Val et al go nowhere and don't hang together. His critiques are valid, and his expos of lifestyles is compelling. He simply raises too many issues to deal with any in depth.

His point might be better made by non-fiction documentary rather than in a fiction where he allows his points to be weakened by their juxtaposition with a string of spoof events and a surreal xenophobic joke ending. Not as readable as What a Carve Up, its initially mundane but does become a good read in the second half. The repetitive use of the number 11 for his 11th novel is an irrelevant conceit.
4246000
I borrowed this tome from a neighbor, or rather. It was foisted upon me as coming recommended from Glenn Beck himself (greaaaattttt).  To be honest, my radical leftist days are long behind me and I actually had to Google the title just to find out some background about the book.  I then proceeded to read it and it was, in retrospect, a monumental effort to keep a straight face and avoid laughing out loud on some of the ridiculous prose committed to paper.

  Did you ever know a person that seems to have that inane need to make everything a diatribe? The one who has to inject his worldview on every conversation?  I've spent considerable amount of time in the company of such people, and generally have the same trouble keeping a straight face as I did reading this ponderous pomp.  It is that kind of person(s) who wrote this book, the kind of individual that responds to a greeting with a sneer, or absolute mindless rage upon the utterance of right-wing pundit's name.

  Books of this ilk only prove to me how dead in the water Western Radicals are.  I was hoping that there would be some logical flow to this book (and I use the term LOOSELY), but instead it breaks, retracts, and goes off on meaningless tangents.  It's an eclectic potpourri of ideals that often contradict each other.  It is the product of a pampered class of intellectuals who claim to love humanity but have such a deep hatred of individual humans.  It over generalizes to absurd proportions, mainly due to the fact that Radicals of all political stripes tend to surround themselves with like minded individuals and so in their incredibly small world it seems like everyone is potential revolutionary.  The very fact that the Paris Commune and the French Revolution of 1848 are mentioned more than once is an indication of how bereft of ideas "The Invisible Committee" really are.  We cannot build a new future on the revolutionary failures over 100 years past, why hold on to them so tenaciously?

  I will not mention the parts of the book I did not like, simply because there are SO many of them.  However, I do agree with them on some points.  And it is because of this that I give the book two stars instead of one.  I absolutely agree with fact that Environmental Awareness has simply become a catchphrase for the Status-Quo.  I also feel some alliance to the idea that Socialism is nothing more than a form of Capitalism (for the state now controls the means of production I.E same old masters, slightly different systems).  Their insight into the French attitude towards work is meaningful, if a bit embellished.  I also find their list of possible remedies is a refreshing break from the usual Radical fare, unattainable as these solutions actually are, simply because they at LEAST offer solutions.

  In conclusion, this diatribe has no real meaning and therefore is no threat.  Having people like Michael Moore and Glenn Beck endorse this is of no consequence.  Mr. Moore is a Gadfly by trade and makes a good living out of it.  Mr. Beck lives in world anyone who disagrees with him is a Communist-Muslim-Heathen and therefore something to be feared.  Hardly the kinds of people I would want to champion or cast a spotlight onto my cause.  Not even putting their name(s) to this sludge fest tells me that they are no Revolutionaries, for a true revolutionary should expect persecution by the authorities, for it is through this persecution that the authorities show their inhumanity.

  A message to those on the Left...  If you want to reach the poor huddled masses, read "The Road to Wigan Pier", by George Orwell.
1361707
This a 200 page rant against love, monogomy, and marriage written by a Northwestern University Media Studies professor in which the author states a plethora of the shortcomings of the institution of marriage. In fact, the best part of this book, for me, was the chapter, 'Domestic Gulag', where you read that if you are in a couple you: 'can't leave the house without saying where you are going... You can't be a slob... You can't be impulsive, self-absorbed, or distracted...', etc. It's a funny list, but what's the point? It's hard to live with people. No news here.

I agree with the idea that marriage and other cultural institutions can be restrictive and aren't necessarily for everyone, but the author sets up a straw man argument. It's the brave author, the only one with the guts to be Against Love, opposed to the societal heirarchy or some Marxist bugaboo or other, typified by Women's magazine articles and relationship self help books. So radical!

Here's a representative quote from page 47 of the paperback, "But, after all, we don't make history under conditions of our own choosing, and private life is pretty much all we have to work with when it comes to experiments in our part of the world these days, where consumer durables and new technologies come equipped with planned obsolescence, and social institutions are as petrified as Mesozoic rock formations."

Kind of a busy sentence. What is it trying to convey? The assumptions are numerous and unclear, and, of course, you are supposed to be laughing along with it's jaw dropping transgressiveness.(The whole book is like this, btw. Read a few of the sample pages and you'll have a decent idea if you'll like the book or not.)

To be more speficic, the bit about planned obsolescence is not relevant and makes me wonder if the author was a Nader-ite in the 70's or something. Who's this 'we' she's referring to, other middle class, middle age, urban, academic, white, women? Our social institutions are petrified ("as Mesozoic rock formations" even!)? Someone needs to check out craiglist or just get off campus once in a while. Marriage, or coupledom in any form, is a social institution that most people I know don't feel especially obsessed with, oppressed by, or anything else. The concern that people are pushed into it by massive societal pressure is misplaced and, frankly, pretty dated.
1596530
A satirical look at the modern megachurch movement that never gets around to closing the deal.

I'm a Christian and have attended all sorts of churches. Liberal Lutheran, fundamental Baptist, Assembly of God, conservative Lutheran, non-denominational megachurches. I currently attend a Baptist church. I found myself thoroughly engrossed in this book. I found myself guffawing out loud on many occasions. The writing is breezy, witty, and engaging (though the somewhat lightweight style grows weary.) From my perspective the author pokes fun at the shallowness of the megachurchs and their targeted marketing practices. I found almost all of it to be spot on. However, for someone that doesn't attend church, most of the book won't be funny. Instead, most of the events will simply be part of the narrative.

The satire is sneaky in that it is done (mostly) in an informative manner without much explanations attached. For example, early in the book Ryan attends a megachurch where he notices the ushers are all friendly, all smiling, all wearing coordinated blazers with shiny nameplates as they hand out the church bulletin. He feels like a celebrity on his first visit. A few weeks later, the novelty has worn off--the ushers scarcely notice him. Instead they are looking for first time visitors with which to bestow their welcoming upon. This is exactly what happens in megachurches. The author could have spent a couple more sentences detailing Ryan's disillusionment and disappointment, but he doesn't. He just presents this aspect of the megachurch as a matter-of-fact and leaves it up to the reader to make judgments. This matter-of-fact style is used throughout the book. The author doesn't cast judgment on these sorts of things, he just lets the reader know what is going on. Thus, when Ryan forms a church that features free popcorn at the door and a petting zoo for the children there is no judgment as to whether or not this is good or bad. I found it appalling that a church would do something like that but I can imagine someone else wouldn't bat an eye at it.

Therein lies the problem--the author never points the way. Are these tactics right or wrong? The author never really takes a stand on the modern church's marketing tactics. Would Jesus have a petting zoo? Would He approve of top 40 pop songs being used in worship service, albeit with changed lyrics? The author does not condemn, he merely presents the information in a humorous way and lets the reader decide. Sometimes it seems that he approves, with tongue in cheek.

The main character, Ryan Fisher, shows little or no remorse for the deception he wreaked on thousands of people. He never considers he needs to be forgiven by God. He doesn't really change as a character. He's an unbeliever at the beginning, he's an unbeliever at the end. His motivations are wrong at the beginning, wrong at the end. He touches people's lives, changes people's lives, but nothing happens to him. I kept waiting for him to have an epiphany, but none was forthcoming. His wife is profoundly changed, however. She was the most interesting character in the book.

There is no gospel message here. I presume the author is a Christian. If so, I believe it is his responsibility that he at least respect the gospel and put it out there for the reader to encounter.  It's a gross oversight, in my opinion. It's not necessary for it to be preached or for a character to have a `come to Jesus' moment, but I found it telling that in a book with multiple sermons in it, the gospel was never given. It would have been so easy to have it included. Perhaps Ryan falls ill and has to invite someone else to preach? How would the congregation accustomed to hearing pablum and shallow feel good sermons react to a real preacher telling it straight from the Bible? A lost opportunity, IMO.

This story was intriguing but I felt the author didn't live up to his responsibility as a writer.

I'm giving the story 4 stars because I know the subject matter and was entertained. I suspect that unchurched people would not be amused.
4682858
Many years from now when someone huddled in a smoking crater asks me how it all started, I'll be sure to bring up this show.  The main point of the writing seems to be to allow people of average to low IQ to feel smug and superior by presenting them with a oafish strawman, easily dismissed, and easily mocked.  Want to be an off-the-shelf elitist? Want to be faux-clever?  Want to have an ersatz and vague sense that you are an insider?  This just may be the show for you.  The humor is artless and unsubtle.  The characters are presented in the most unsympathetic and border-line sadistic light.  To summarize: entertainment by and for idiots.
775709
Trading his ironic self-indulgence for feigned generosity, Momus has crafted a millenial time capsule with these none-too-flattering portraits.  Circumstances aside, the silly yet adept arrangements could probably stand  on their own as Air-esque easy listening upgrades, but Momus' garrulous  treatises add an infinite and almost too intelligent (charmingly so) slice  of humanity.  Certainly among the greatest concept albums of all time, the  listener will laugh out loud and be horribly offended repeatedly within a  single (and almost any) track.  This deserves to be among the unappreciated  classics of Zappa and Beefheart, and one doesn't get a chance to say that  very often. A must for bitter, pessimistic cynics (college students and  starving artists).
2148034
People think this novel is hilarious; I can see their point, I suppose. Lipsyte's trying, at least, to satirize *something*, and the other reviews pretty much cover the topics of his scorn.

That said, I appreciated this novel more as a parody of a certain kind of work -- think Chuck Palahniuk -- where men have problems and those problems are all women's fault. Really, if The Ask accurately reflects the anxieties of middle-aged male Gen-Xers, you'd expect Freudian analysis to be making a killing these days -- nearly everything about this novel reflects Milo's emasculation anxieties and difficulties with his mother. I mean, let's just count the ways:

Milo begins the novel working for a woman he disrespects but lusts after. It becomes clear, later on, that she's aware of his lust, but thinks it so unworthy of notice she's not offended by it. Milo is outshone by a successful fund-raiser, a flashy fellow (code homosexual -- there are no actually gay men in this novel) that everyone loves, and a slacker who secretly assumes that Milo is both gay and into him. Milo loses his job, early in the novel, because some entitled daughter of a wealthy donor pushes him into an invective-filled tirade. Having lost his manlihood/means of providing for his family, his relationship with his wife quickly disintegrates, causing Milo's wife to run off with her trainer, who we are initially led to believe is actually gay (so, you see, he's not just cuckolded, he's cuckolded by a "gay" man). Milo attempts to seduce the mother of a child in the same day care as his son, but fails miserably (Lipsyte makes sure to describe the look on her face as one of disgust and pity). His mother abandons him emotionally for her late-in-life sexual conversion to lesbianism. At his lowest point, he attempts to participate in a threeway with his slacker co-worker and an unknown woman, though only in a very minor way, which the woman rejects all the same.

That is, thankfully, only the first half of the book. The rest has to do with Milo's attempts to get his old job back. You can guess how well that goes.

It is no doubt part of the "satire" that everyone in The Ask is better off without Milo, including the reader. Lipsyte denies us even the possibility of a bohemian illusion, or, I found, the satisfaction of having read a worthwhile novel.
3578543
The description of this book appealed to me on many levels. I was looking forward to a sort of left-of-center experience, within a relatable story about the struggles of being different in a society that expects you to conform. This book is that kind of story, to some degree, though it's also both more and less than what I expected.

Starting with the good stuff: The story moves at a good pace. The author's writing style is conversational and conspiratorial, bringing us into his world and sharing his secrets. We're right there with Yew's character, seeing what he sees and feeling his emotions.

Now the not-so-good stuff, which, for me, outweighs the good stuff. First, I did not like Yew's character at all. Since this book is written in first person, and we see the world only from Yew's perspective, liking the book becomes even more of a challenge because I didn't like my tour guide. He's self-involved, arrogant, and narrates as if he is the only enlightened one among a bunch of automatons.

We start out with Yew in early grade school. As a child, he's not much different than any other child in that he wants to play and explore, rather than sit and learn. Yet the narration treats his desire to be free as if it's a unique rebellion. His relationship with his parents is the typical push-pull, though here it's treated as if a horrible burden is placed on his shoulders to live up to his parents' expectations. He comes from a well-off family that treats him with love, and the poor pitiful me act simply feels shallow.

As an adult, Yew is no more likable. He flails about in his shallowness, while expounding on philosophy and touting Taoism as if he is superior in his mindset. At one point he states that he's angry because he sacrificed himself by going to college (free!), and his parents never thanked him for doing so. The dichotomy between the self-proclaimed enlightened free spirit and the egocentric ranting of the narrator is profound, and feels more like a parody than a serious statement.

Yew is the only character of substance within the book. We never really meet his parents. His friendships, for the most part, appear to be as shallow as he is. No dialogue feels genuine, and no relationships are explored to help us understand why he feels so out of sorts within his social circle.

In the end, I only felt irritation, as if I'd been forced to spend time with a particularly obnoxious person who believes himself superior while having absolutely no basis for that belief.

*I was provided with a free ebook copy in exchange for much honest review.*
2092573
Having first read 'A Vanished World' nearly eight years ago, I had found it mostly forgettable but unoffensive at the time. Having had the occasion, purely by chance, to dust it off and glance through it again, I remembered the reason for my initial apathy to this slender volume.

It is permeated with that uniquely mid-00s condescending hypocrisy that seemed to view the world through the hyper-sensitive lens of Islam vs the West, brought on by Bush and the Iraq War. In Lowney's history, the Christians are savage, brutal or else comically misinformed. The Muslims, even the qadis who presided over mass decapitations, are reasonable, tolerant and intelligent individuals pushed to the brink by idiotic Christian radicals.

If you are specially vulnerable to a nauseatingly PC interpretation of history, or are looking primarily to relive the nostalgia of the anti-Bush years, then this volume may be for you. Otherwise, it brings nothing to the table that far superior scholars have long since examined with greater depth, nuance and humanity.
1021633
Yes, I know I'm going to get a lot of "unhelpfuls" for the two stars.
I feel it's important to bring Watchmen up from more of a recent viewpoint, though. Many of the people who gave it five stars either read it 20 years ago and have let it accumulate a rosy glow ever since, or else simply aren't familiar with the state of modern comics.
I spent the first ten years of my life reading hundreds or thousands of comics (and books too, thank you very much), and there's little about Watchmen that distinguishes it from the current crop. The art is subpar, the cliches glaring, and the "mature humor" nearly as subtle as Roseanne. The integration of contemporary issues such as nuclear tension and sexism lends it more weight as a snapshot of an age without actually contributing to its longevity.
The attempts at sophistication- the subcomic "Tales of the Black Freighter", the repetitive wordplay- fail miserably, and do more to make the book an embarassing showcase of pretension than comic innovation. As my father is fond of saying, "If you can't dazzle 'em with brilliance, baffle 'em with bulls**t."
If you're a comic fan, Watchmen is a harmless waste of a few hours. If you want a real introduction to the comic medium, though, stick to Maus or Hepcats.