Mind Games

Have you ever surfaced from a conversation and realized that you were probably just manipulated into acting a certain way or saying certain things by the actions or words of your partner? Although Ender's Game is absolutely a science fiction novel, packed so full of outer space concepts and futuristic ideas to the point of explosion, one fascinating aspect of this book is that you can extract perhaps a hundred moments in which one character subtly but purposefully moves another character like a chess piece across the board.
The subplots distract the reader from the bigger picture, but those pesky subplots do nothing but mimic the "grand scheme": manipulation. A big hand manipulates a smaller hand, which in turn manipulates a smaller hand, which functions to manipulate a multitude of other little hands. In a sweltering chain of events, you are led from conclusion to another shattering conclusion, and the realization of the depth and intricacy of the webs weaved by these big hands leaves your brain basically imploding. Just when you think you have all the little threads untangled and the strings separated, a mighty gust of wind sweeps through your cute little pile of organization and mucks it all up again.

Don't be fooled: though it is disguised as a children's book, you have to read it more than once and with great comprehension if you want to get those threads untangled in any semblance of finality. Once you do...oh, once you do, you envy to the core of your being the ability to powerful manipulate in the manner of these characters. I've tried...I've failed. My meager mind cannot handle the pressure; I can simply observe others at work. You should join me!

Ender's Game, by Orson Scott Card. Take a nap before opening this book.

The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as the charm of music dwells not in the tones but in the echoes of our hearts.  ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

Between the Bindings

          Great Expectations. What comes to mind? Required reading list? Unnecessary exposure to a book that has no applicability to your life? Perhaps you see the face of your mother as she pushes the Barnes & Nobles remastered copy into you hands, reminding you that, “It’s a classic.”

            I read the book because I wanted to know what Charles Dickens’ pen actually composed. I was sick of hearing summaries from old people, reading the abridged version, or sitting through the many movie versions. I chased down the images he physically created, and the world I entered was entirely mine and his. No one else had any influence on my experience with this book.

            Just me and Chuck.

            Books give you this freedom to merge into the mind of another person without any external interruption. Your imagination is unrestrained; the pictures in your head are your creations. The stimulus is not your making, of course, but few fantastic things have one father. Chuck and I worked together, and I would turn page after page, eagerly digesting the material he provided. Literary classics are obviously already reputed for their depth and worth, but sometimes you have to remind yourself that it is just a book like any other…yet so totally distinct from any other.

            The next time you refrain from reading a book because of its reputation or because you think you already know the plot, let me remind you that nothing can replace the hours which you spend sitting alone in your room, face to face with someone you’ve never met, thoroughly immersed in his voice as it elicits a response from yours.

            I’ve stolen bread and wine from the sister’s cupboard with Pip, sat next to a bitter and desolate Miss Havisham in a room of emptiness, and I've watched Estella tear hearts to pieces. I’ll never lose those moments. Thank you, Chuck. I appreciate the introduction.

Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens.

Now tell me what comes to mind.

"Classic—a book people praise and don’t read." - Mark Twain

Stolen

I could tell from the moment I inhaled that it was love. The fragrance that graced my nostrils sent shivers down my spine…that unmistakable smell of a new book. My fingers gently stroked the parchment and I tenderly flipped a few pages. I cherished the moment, relishing the unknown adventure on which I was about to embark. Closing the book, I marveled at the title’s strange font and the mysterious, unsettling tone of the picture on front. I ran my hand slowly down the length of the cover, letting my fingers glide to a smooth halt in a quiet caress. Poised, careful, expectant, I opened The Book Thief to Chapter ONE.

Death and Chocolate

My eyes alighted on the peculiar shape of the first paragraph.

First the colors.

        Then the humans.

        That’s usually how I see things.

        Or at least, how I try.

            ***HERE IS A SMALL FACT***

                    You are going to die.

Clarification: This is not a book that convinces the weak to hurt themselves. There are no damaging subliminal messages, like if you take every third letter of every 500^th word and spell it backwards, the result says, “Marijuana is fun; you should try dying.” Nothing like that. 

This book adopted me. It chose me.

I won’t summarize the plot for you because I don’t want to mar its beauty with my own hollow, powerless words. I can tell you that it sucked me into a black whirlwind of textures, sounds, voices, images, memories, futures, anything, all of it and none of it, and I emerged wishing I had written this book, that this was my child. Instead, I must settle for it as a friend, one that follows me, rarely the center of attention but rather hovering on the periphery.

Markus Zusak harnesses his words and uses their actual physical shapes to mold pictures. He forges sentences with absolute mastery and incorporates words with no regard for their intended meaning. Instead, he infuses them with his own language, letting their natural sound and aura speak for them as opposed to some culturally accepted interpretation. For years, this book has been bouncing around in my pocket, seeping into my life subtly, but with great impact. I am honored to share it with you.

Beautiful, beautiful. I wish I had the words.

My tools for communication pale in comparison.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak….Five Hundred and Forty Seven Pages.

Dear God, if I could only have Five Hundred and Forty Seven more.  

Always read something that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.  ~P.J. O'Rourke

The Power of Sea Power

The soft, blue cover is slowing but unmistakably separating from its pages, a testimony to the hands of my predecessors which have carelessly or delicately leafed through it to soak knowledge from this book.

NAVSC102: mandatory reading: SEA POWER.

 Yes, I know school books are boring, but what caught my attention about this book is that it discusses and analyzes the roles of the world’s Navies throughout major conflicts in history (American Revolution, Civil War, WWI and WWII, for example).

Growing up, I learned about the Civil War and the American Revolution through books like Silver for General Washington, Stonewall, etc. Those wars were heroic stories to me, full of colonial images influenced by occasional visits to Williamsburg, where my family and I pet sheep, gawked at cannons, and conversed with actors dressed as the civilians of that particular time. In any exhibit we visited, we were transported back to that age by uniforms of the 1700s, 1800s, and early 1900s. We made wax candles, wrinkled our noses at the smell of animal feces from the reinvented farms, and stared out along the coastline of Fort McHenry. We pressed our noses up against the glass box in which sat a pompous model of a German U-Boat. I recall almost losing my lunch after a visit to a WWII submarine; the enclosed space was too much for me.

These memories, these impressions of these wars that these experiences left on me, were by no means unpleasant. History was something I marveled at, I revered. I didn’t understand history in context of that time period. 

The content of Sea Power is nothing pretty or entertaining. The authors discuss the tactics of varying sea captains as they strategically plan battles and try to pummel enemy fleets into submission. The cool, mature, levelheadedness with which the authors treat this subject which had formerly seemed like a fairy tale to me shocked me to my core. This really happened. This is what was really going on. Just as the war in Iraq has our attention with its controversies and tragedies, so did these wars on the nation at that time. Just because they are crystallized in our past doesn’t mean I can treat them like a good adventure tale. These sailors were terrified as they fired their cannons, cannons I found adventurous. They were weapons, not artifacts. Men as young as me fought and died, merely nameless particles that compose the battles we like to summarize and interpret for our own benefit. My childhood creation, history as my pet, has faded in light of the clear view in which my maturing eyes can now see.

Sea Power, edited by E. B. Potter. I would check this book out if I were you. There was a lot more going on during the American Revolution then Mel Gibson portrayed. (I did love the Patriot).

A good book should leave you slightly exhausted at the end.  You live several lives while reading it.  ~William Styron