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A Bibliophagist (113 KP) rated Space Opera in Books
Jan 25, 2020 (Updated Jan 25, 2020)
Fun writing (2 more)
Creative
Witty
Overwritten (3 more)
Lacking plot
Disjointed and distracted
Boring
Technicolor Encyclopedia entry
Space Opera seems to be a book, that based on other reviews, you either love or hate. The love reviewers can't seem to tell me why they love it, most attempting to replicate the style of the author and relying on a menagerie of adjectives to express themselves. "A glitter punk, Eurovision romp!" "Technicolor whirlwind!" but not actually saying WHY they liked it, or just saying "well you didn't get the humor". The ones who disliked it are pretty clear, and as I struggled with this book I found I agreed with their complaints. However, I have to thank the sheer number of DNFs from the disliked group for causing me to, ironically, finish it. I hate DNFing books, to begin with, but when I saw just how many bad reviews didn't make it through, it felt as bad as the good reviews not actually reviewing anything. So I powered through, and honestly, it was worth finishing. The author really got back on track and it was a great ending.
Valente has in fact given us a Eurovision, glitter punk, electric baby with Douglas Adams, her writing fantastical and humorous, her characters vapid but in a washed-out musician kind of way. She really thought about this book, creating droves of aliens and probably destroying a number of thesauri to bring them to life. We follow Decibel Jones of the "oh you haven't heard of it, well we used to be a thing" Decibel Jones and the Absolute Zeros. A washed-up, no longer active glitter punk band who is an amalgam of every band you probably are thinking of when trying to grasp what that description means.
The book opens with a wonderfully witty description of how there is in fact other life out there in the universe, life is easy to come by, they've just been off doing a galactic war and while they were gone we kind of popped up. Life is stupid. This part is the best part of the book. The humor is on point, the prose magnificant. She is spot on and very pointed in her argument for why war happens. It's people vs meat, and how does one determine something isn't meat, but in fact sentient? Well, no one really figured that out, hence the galactic war, but NOW post-war they think they've figured it out. Intergalactic Music competition. Makes sense, only something sentient could create music right?
Well, this year is a special year because Earth is invited, we've been deemed "may be sentient", but questionable enough that they'd rather not let us just hang out and become annoying someday. So we have to present a band and performance for consideration. We just have to not place last. If we don't place last, we're part of the club and we'll be a-ok. If we place last, we'll be destroyed, because they already think we're annoying and that will mean we're meat. People vs meat remember?
So, one day everyone on the planet earth, everyone, awake or sleeping is visited by the blue birdlike projection of our assigned guides, the Esca, and alien species that are new to the whole being accepted as a sentient thing, and will guide us through the competition. Which it is now telling us about, Suprise! They've chosen a list of musicians they think will do well, however it's outdated and only one band is really able to do it, the has-beens, who are they, Decibel Jones and the Absolute Zeros. Time was rough on our glam-punk friends as it tends to be on musicians, they lost the third member about a decade ago, the two remaining no longer talk. Decibel is a trainwreck, and Oort St Ultraviolet is now just a dad who very much wants to be a regular dude. But now they're being whisked off into space to sing for the world's salvation.
Sounds pretty fun right? This plus Douglas Adams type prose and humor? A real knock out. Unfortunately, that story I just described takes up... maybe a quarter of the book, MAYBE. You can pull the main story out and put it into a book that might be too small to be a novella. Because of this, the backstory, development, and exploration of these characters are slim to nothing. There is some mind you, but very little. It isn't until the 180pg mark or so that Valente actually decides to focus on the plot, giving very little time to do the entire Grand Prix, the actual competition takes up a page. A 288-page book about a singing competition and only 1-2 pages is actually the singing competition. Tack on another 10 maybe for the weird cocktail death party right before, that didn't have enough attempted death to make any real point of it, plus maybe another 5-10 scattered throughout the book on the back story and leading up to the story, and we've got MAYBE 25 pages of the actual plot. My math is wrong, I know, but it sure FEELS like this.
So, in a 288-page book, with 25 pages being the actual story, what are the other 263 pages? It was the author being somewhat... I don't mean to sound mean, but full of herself? She tried WAY too hard on this style she was going for. It felt like an "oh, you liked that opening chapter, didn't you? You totally read it out loud to your boyfriend, well here let me give it to you again, and again, and ... again". This book suffers from a severe case of needing to be edited. Of someone saying "that's enough now dear, but what about the story". Every few pages of the backstory of the plot we got were met with full chapters, sometimes multiple of Valente describing yet another alien species she's created, in yet another chain of witty simile and metaphor. To the point where sometimes I no longer knew what was happening, they were all interchangeable, which alien are we talking about now? It went on and on and on, and I never knew how such humorous writing could be just so soul suckingly boring. When she ran out of aliens it was describing previous grand prix's and how the aliens sang. In the exact same, formulaic, witty simile, witty simile, witty simile. Don't get me wrong, there were some absolute gems in here. Some that made me laugh out loud. But it's all about the ratio. I would trade in a heartbeat the ratio in this book. 263 pages of plot, and 25 pages of aliens described in witty simile. It took everything in my power after the third alien chapter to not skim. But she fit so much into a sentence that I was scared somewhere hiding would be a plot point (spoiler alert, there wasn't, skim away).
Then around the 180 page mark, a flip was switched, it was almost as if she went "crap, a story!" the adjective use was slimmed down dramatically and we actually got more than one chapter in a row with a plot point. But at this point, it was too late, the end of the book was hurdling at us and very little had happened and the book pretty much fizzled out with an "oh yeah, the Grand Prix happened". Mind you, the finale was very heartwarming and I liked it a lot. I just wish I hadn't had to read a full chapter about hairbrush interspecies sex to get there, and instead had more of it. But ironically, the hairbrush sex had more plot advancement that the majority of the book.
The ending did, however, for one moment, make me forget that I had just read an encyclopedia of descriptors and was happy for a few minutes. So good on her for that. That proves to me that she can write more than glittery descriptions, which then made me sad I didn't have more of that writing. With just a spattering of the gold of her opening chapters. I am glad I finished the book, the story, what little there was, was worth the read. However, I have no desire to read any other of Valente's writing now, and if there was a sequel, I just don't think I have it in me to read another 263 pages of description. Cool idea, good ability, just terribly executed. She could easily have released a separate book, expanding on a handful of species she established in the book, like an alien compendium, and I would have read it, and laughed, and been okay because I went into it expecting it. But I went into this wanting a story, not a neon throwup encyclopedia of just how "oh so creative" Valente is. That came off harsh, I know, but they blew past the fine line of interesting and well into the self-serving, look what I can do, territory. What suffered for it wasn't just a large number of DNFs, and my sanity for a few days, but an actually interesting, fun, Eurovision, glitter punk, heartwarming story about loss, life, how stupid it is, how beautiful it is, and why we should fight for it. It's in there, hiding beneath the layers and layers of word vomit. I want that story. Please release a second edition that is just that, the opening, and say... 3-5 of your favorite aliens Valente, I promise I'll give it another try if you do.
Valente has in fact given us a Eurovision, glitter punk, electric baby with Douglas Adams, her writing fantastical and humorous, her characters vapid but in a washed-out musician kind of way. She really thought about this book, creating droves of aliens and probably destroying a number of thesauri to bring them to life. We follow Decibel Jones of the "oh you haven't heard of it, well we used to be a thing" Decibel Jones and the Absolute Zeros. A washed-up, no longer active glitter punk band who is an amalgam of every band you probably are thinking of when trying to grasp what that description means.
The book opens with a wonderfully witty description of how there is in fact other life out there in the universe, life is easy to come by, they've just been off doing a galactic war and while they were gone we kind of popped up. Life is stupid. This part is the best part of the book. The humor is on point, the prose magnificant. She is spot on and very pointed in her argument for why war happens. It's people vs meat, and how does one determine something isn't meat, but in fact sentient? Well, no one really figured that out, hence the galactic war, but NOW post-war they think they've figured it out. Intergalactic Music competition. Makes sense, only something sentient could create music right?
Well, this year is a special year because Earth is invited, we've been deemed "may be sentient", but questionable enough that they'd rather not let us just hang out and become annoying someday. So we have to present a band and performance for consideration. We just have to not place last. If we don't place last, we're part of the club and we'll be a-ok. If we place last, we'll be destroyed, because they already think we're annoying and that will mean we're meat. People vs meat remember?
So, one day everyone on the planet earth, everyone, awake or sleeping is visited by the blue birdlike projection of our assigned guides, the Esca, and alien species that are new to the whole being accepted as a sentient thing, and will guide us through the competition. Which it is now telling us about, Suprise! They've chosen a list of musicians they think will do well, however it's outdated and only one band is really able to do it, the has-beens, who are they, Decibel Jones and the Absolute Zeros. Time was rough on our glam-punk friends as it tends to be on musicians, they lost the third member about a decade ago, the two remaining no longer talk. Decibel is a trainwreck, and Oort St Ultraviolet is now just a dad who very much wants to be a regular dude. But now they're being whisked off into space to sing for the world's salvation.
Sounds pretty fun right? This plus Douglas Adams type prose and humor? A real knock out. Unfortunately, that story I just described takes up... maybe a quarter of the book, MAYBE. You can pull the main story out and put it into a book that might be too small to be a novella. Because of this, the backstory, development, and exploration of these characters are slim to nothing. There is some mind you, but very little. It isn't until the 180pg mark or so that Valente actually decides to focus on the plot, giving very little time to do the entire Grand Prix, the actual competition takes up a page. A 288-page book about a singing competition and only 1-2 pages is actually the singing competition. Tack on another 10 maybe for the weird cocktail death party right before, that didn't have enough attempted death to make any real point of it, plus maybe another 5-10 scattered throughout the book on the back story and leading up to the story, and we've got MAYBE 25 pages of the actual plot. My math is wrong, I know, but it sure FEELS like this.
So, in a 288-page book, with 25 pages being the actual story, what are the other 263 pages? It was the author being somewhat... I don't mean to sound mean, but full of herself? She tried WAY too hard on this style she was going for. It felt like an "oh, you liked that opening chapter, didn't you? You totally read it out loud to your boyfriend, well here let me give it to you again, and again, and ... again". This book suffers from a severe case of needing to be edited. Of someone saying "that's enough now dear, but what about the story". Every few pages of the backstory of the plot we got were met with full chapters, sometimes multiple of Valente describing yet another alien species she's created, in yet another chain of witty simile and metaphor. To the point where sometimes I no longer knew what was happening, they were all interchangeable, which alien are we talking about now? It went on and on and on, and I never knew how such humorous writing could be just so soul suckingly boring. When she ran out of aliens it was describing previous grand prix's and how the aliens sang. In the exact same, formulaic, witty simile, witty simile, witty simile. Don't get me wrong, there were some absolute gems in here. Some that made me laugh out loud. But it's all about the ratio. I would trade in a heartbeat the ratio in this book. 263 pages of plot, and 25 pages of aliens described in witty simile. It took everything in my power after the third alien chapter to not skim. But she fit so much into a sentence that I was scared somewhere hiding would be a plot point (spoiler alert, there wasn't, skim away).
Then around the 180 page mark, a flip was switched, it was almost as if she went "crap, a story!" the adjective use was slimmed down dramatically and we actually got more than one chapter in a row with a plot point. But at this point, it was too late, the end of the book was hurdling at us and very little had happened and the book pretty much fizzled out with an "oh yeah, the Grand Prix happened". Mind you, the finale was very heartwarming and I liked it a lot. I just wish I hadn't had to read a full chapter about hairbrush interspecies sex to get there, and instead had more of it. But ironically, the hairbrush sex had more plot advancement that the majority of the book.
The ending did, however, for one moment, make me forget that I had just read an encyclopedia of descriptors and was happy for a few minutes. So good on her for that. That proves to me that she can write more than glittery descriptions, which then made me sad I didn't have more of that writing. With just a spattering of the gold of her opening chapters. I am glad I finished the book, the story, what little there was, was worth the read. However, I have no desire to read any other of Valente's writing now, and if there was a sequel, I just don't think I have it in me to read another 263 pages of description. Cool idea, good ability, just terribly executed. She could easily have released a separate book, expanding on a handful of species she established in the book, like an alien compendium, and I would have read it, and laughed, and been okay because I went into it expecting it. But I went into this wanting a story, not a neon throwup encyclopedia of just how "oh so creative" Valente is. That came off harsh, I know, but they blew past the fine line of interesting and well into the self-serving, look what I can do, territory. What suffered for it wasn't just a large number of DNFs, and my sanity for a few days, but an actually interesting, fun, Eurovision, glitter punk, heartwarming story about loss, life, how stupid it is, how beautiful it is, and why we should fight for it. It's in there, hiding beneath the layers and layers of word vomit. I want that story. Please release a second edition that is just that, the opening, and say... 3-5 of your favorite aliens Valente, I promise I'll give it another try if you do.
Chris Sawin (602 KP) rated Transformers Revenge of the Fallen (2009) in Movies
Jun 22, 2019
In 2009, I saw Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen in theaters during a midnight screening on its day of release. Somehow I managed to sit through a two and a half hour movie, drive home, write a review, post it, and promote it all before I went to bed that morning at 5am. Looking back, I still have no idea how something like that was accomplished while also juggling a full-time job. Needless to say, I've been eager to revisit Revenge of the Fallen ever since. Delirium begins to set in at that hour and midnight screenings are rarely ever not fun. Not to mention my skills as a movie critic have evolved greatly since then and my tastes have altered. The movie deserved a proper review with a sober state of mind. And yes, thankfully, the trip was worth taking because I'm not quite as enthusiastic about Revenge of the Fallen being such a great piece of cinema as its glaring flaws tend to overshadow what little good it had going for it.
The writing is obviously the sequel's biggest flaw and not just the storyline, but the dialogue as well. The Fallen touched down on earth all the way back in 17,000 B.C. and while we've been able to uncover the likes of cavemen existing thereabouts during that time period, there's no evidence of autobots or decepticons existing in that point in history. With the way they fight and their vast numbers, that seems pretty hard to believe. Oh, and look, Sam has held onto the shirt he wore when the world almost came to an end in the last movie and apparently hasn't ever washed it. A sliver of the allspark has just been sitting in that thing this entire time. Alice actually being a decepticon didn't feel right either. Probable maybe, but it just didn't seem to fit with all other transformers being vehicles of some kind. Meanwhile Soundwave is a satellite in this movie, but walks around on earth with some crazy worm thing in Dark of the Moon with no reason of him evolving between films.
The movie has a thing about humping, too. We see two male dogs humping on more than one occasion and Wheelie also humps the crap out of Megan Fox's leg, but that's not the only time male genitalia comes into play. We also get a good glimpse at the testicles of the Sun Harvester as John Turturro spits out a one-liner about its scrotum. Leo and his freaking out over absolutely everything is also really annoying and makes Shia LaBeouf's "BUM-BULL-BEE!!!" and "OP-TIM-US!!!" squawks feel like a breath of fresh air. Sam's parents are practically the kryptonite of the movie as they're featured way too much and in the worst of times. Sam's mom has the lamest dialogue while also overreacting to everything while his dad can't decide to let Sam go or protect him. Why they were ever even Egypt is a boggling question in itself. Why are there autobots in heaven? If Megatron's master was The Fallen and he took orders from Sentinel Prime in Dark of the Moon, just how many other Decepticons does he answer to? The questions and plot holes just seem endless.
The atrocious dialogue practically echoes through your bones. It starts with Ironhide saying, "Punk ass decepticon," and never really lets up. Between Sam's parents "smelling" a "$40,000 education," and Simmons telling everyone that what he was about to show them was "top secret" and "do not tell my mother," the bases are pretty much covered. Military sergeants listening to a kid in college seems outlandish anyway, but throwing their absolute blind faith in him seems really outrageous. I realize the cast of the movie had the writer's strike to deal with, but two of the three writers for Revenge of the Fallen also wrote Star Trek which showed none of the same problems that this movie had. The writing in a Michael Bay movie is already secondary. Throw in a writer's strike and you've got something as apocalyptic behind the camera as what's taking place on screen.
There is something entertaining deep within the loins of this cinematic abomination though. The special effects are more than satisfying and pretty much outshine the special effects in the first movie. Onscreen battles are more extraordinary, explosions are bigger, and the numbers are more massive. It feels more like an actual war this time around. Bumblebee also gets his time to shine in the sequel. His scene in the garage with Sam at the start of the movie is one of the better calm scenes in the entire thing and then there are his fight scenes. Several of the fight scenes seem inspired by Mortal Kombat; Bumblebee's spine-rip sequence and Optimus’ face ripping and hand bursting through the chest of The Fallen with its villainous heart. Optimus feels very scarcely used in the two Transformers sequels. He has a few scenes where he gets to be awesome and then spends a good portion of the movie being incapacitated. At least he was dead in this one, that's a liable excuse. In Dark of the Moon, he's basically just hanging out upside down for thirty to forty minutes while hundreds of people die. Even though The Fallen is dealt with in a matter of minutes, he is kind of cool. He teleports a lot like Nightcrawler and is voiced by Tony Todd. Unfortunately, he's only appealing on the surface, kind of sucks as a main villain, and is a total embarrassment to the decepticons.
Michael Bay needs to learn that more explosions and more destructive mayhem don't automatically make a film better than its predecessor. There are more battles between the autobots and decepticons, the stakes are higher, and the special effects are more impressive, but it's essentially just eye candy or like giving reconstructive facial surgery to a really hideous person; they're still ugly but their appearance is at least nice to look at now. With a storyline that jumps all over the place for no rhyme or reason, really terrible dialogue being spewed from just about every major character, and The Twins probably being more offensive than they are humorous, Revenge of the Fallen falls short of being half as good as Bay's original effort and is quite difficult to think of as anything more than a guilty pleasure.
The writing is obviously the sequel's biggest flaw and not just the storyline, but the dialogue as well. The Fallen touched down on earth all the way back in 17,000 B.C. and while we've been able to uncover the likes of cavemen existing thereabouts during that time period, there's no evidence of autobots or decepticons existing in that point in history. With the way they fight and their vast numbers, that seems pretty hard to believe. Oh, and look, Sam has held onto the shirt he wore when the world almost came to an end in the last movie and apparently hasn't ever washed it. A sliver of the allspark has just been sitting in that thing this entire time. Alice actually being a decepticon didn't feel right either. Probable maybe, but it just didn't seem to fit with all other transformers being vehicles of some kind. Meanwhile Soundwave is a satellite in this movie, but walks around on earth with some crazy worm thing in Dark of the Moon with no reason of him evolving between films.
The movie has a thing about humping, too. We see two male dogs humping on more than one occasion and Wheelie also humps the crap out of Megan Fox's leg, but that's not the only time male genitalia comes into play. We also get a good glimpse at the testicles of the Sun Harvester as John Turturro spits out a one-liner about its scrotum. Leo and his freaking out over absolutely everything is also really annoying and makes Shia LaBeouf's "BUM-BULL-BEE!!!" and "OP-TIM-US!!!" squawks feel like a breath of fresh air. Sam's parents are practically the kryptonite of the movie as they're featured way too much and in the worst of times. Sam's mom has the lamest dialogue while also overreacting to everything while his dad can't decide to let Sam go or protect him. Why they were ever even Egypt is a boggling question in itself. Why are there autobots in heaven? If Megatron's master was The Fallen and he took orders from Sentinel Prime in Dark of the Moon, just how many other Decepticons does he answer to? The questions and plot holes just seem endless.
The atrocious dialogue practically echoes through your bones. It starts with Ironhide saying, "Punk ass decepticon," and never really lets up. Between Sam's parents "smelling" a "$40,000 education," and Simmons telling everyone that what he was about to show them was "top secret" and "do not tell my mother," the bases are pretty much covered. Military sergeants listening to a kid in college seems outlandish anyway, but throwing their absolute blind faith in him seems really outrageous. I realize the cast of the movie had the writer's strike to deal with, but two of the three writers for Revenge of the Fallen also wrote Star Trek which showed none of the same problems that this movie had. The writing in a Michael Bay movie is already secondary. Throw in a writer's strike and you've got something as apocalyptic behind the camera as what's taking place on screen.
There is something entertaining deep within the loins of this cinematic abomination though. The special effects are more than satisfying and pretty much outshine the special effects in the first movie. Onscreen battles are more extraordinary, explosions are bigger, and the numbers are more massive. It feels more like an actual war this time around. Bumblebee also gets his time to shine in the sequel. His scene in the garage with Sam at the start of the movie is one of the better calm scenes in the entire thing and then there are his fight scenes. Several of the fight scenes seem inspired by Mortal Kombat; Bumblebee's spine-rip sequence and Optimus’ face ripping and hand bursting through the chest of The Fallen with its villainous heart. Optimus feels very scarcely used in the two Transformers sequels. He has a few scenes where he gets to be awesome and then spends a good portion of the movie being incapacitated. At least he was dead in this one, that's a liable excuse. In Dark of the Moon, he's basically just hanging out upside down for thirty to forty minutes while hundreds of people die. Even though The Fallen is dealt with in a matter of minutes, he is kind of cool. He teleports a lot like Nightcrawler and is voiced by Tony Todd. Unfortunately, he's only appealing on the surface, kind of sucks as a main villain, and is a total embarrassment to the decepticons.
Michael Bay needs to learn that more explosions and more destructive mayhem don't automatically make a film better than its predecessor. There are more battles between the autobots and decepticons, the stakes are higher, and the special effects are more impressive, but it's essentially just eye candy or like giving reconstructive facial surgery to a really hideous person; they're still ugly but their appearance is at least nice to look at now. With a storyline that jumps all over the place for no rhyme or reason, really terrible dialogue being spewed from just about every major character, and The Twins probably being more offensive than they are humorous, Revenge of the Fallen falls short of being half as good as Bay's original effort and is quite difficult to think of as anything more than a guilty pleasure.