Tomasino Blog

After I was accepted into the novitiate, the Vocation Director offered a warning that the time before entrance day could be very difficult. He was right on the nose with that one. Despite my best efforts to stay on task, my prayer life has been slipping. I need to refocus what I’m doing and get back on track.

There are a number of books I should be reading right now that could help me prepare, but instead I’ve been bingeing the Dresden series. It’s really started getting good and I’m just tearing through them so fast that it’s really satisfying, but I think it has contributed to my present situation. Normally I institute a very strict policy for myself that I can read only one fantasy novel between my non-fiction books. This keeps me from going off the deep end and losing myself into rich series, like I did with the Wheel of Time back at Rowan. I’ve let myself become lax, and that will have to change.

As soon as I finish reading the 9th book in the series, I’ll be jumping back into The First Jesuits, which is incredibly interesting, but reads like an encyclopedia. Still, it is one of the books I’m supposed to be reading in preparation for entrance day, and I’ve let it slide now for too long.

What about you folks out there? Is there something going on that you’ve lost sight of, something you need to refocus, to stay on target?

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A morbid haze drifted vapidly through the park impregnating the space below the old oaks. Spanish moss stretched its fingers forth trying to grasp at the wet earth below like some bygone lover just out of reach. Lamplight moiled and mashed its way futilely against the mists, giving each small spark the eerie quality of melting into darkness, serving only to heighten awareness of the deepness of the night.

Somewhere nearby a heart beat steadily with silent rhythm. Each percussive throb felt infinitesimally through the deep currents of air that linked them by blood, its sweet cadence calling to him.

Blood, vilely profane and alluring in its concupiscent vivacity. Blood, tantalizing, forbidden, safeguarded beneath lusciously corpulent flesh. But no, not a delicacy cured in spices, the salty taste is just diaphoretic nervousness, human and natural. A nervousness deserved. A nervousness earned by nights like this.

In the mists light doesn’t touch the flesh, doesn’t reflect off turgid irises or the enamel of teeth. The light knows to keep to itself and haunt its own corner of the world. The mists belong to something else.

The palpitations grew stronger as passing zephyrs carried with them the hint of iron and danger. Disgust filled his throat with bile even while the temptation grew hot in his eyes. Covet, want, need, thirst; and the seductiveness was everything. Understanding fell away and with it the revulsion. At last, minacity had met moment in lustful surrender.

Somewhere in the mists, lips parted for a lovers embrace while far overhead, a full moon smoldered.

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This little book, by Ron Hansen, is a story of a small community of cloistered nuns during the early 1900s who are about to face their greatest challenge. Their typically quiet, simple lives are turned upside down when a young novice, Mariette, joins them and claims to have had a vision of Jesus. To some she seems a saint growing before their eyes, to others she is a deceitful flirt who takes pleasure in the attention her holiness garners. Which side of her do you see as you read the story? That is the question the author leaves his readers.

I first heard about this book when I read a blog post on A Nun’s Life about a local theater group who performed the book as a play. It sounded interesting, so I jumped on Amazon immediately to buy a copy. I was a little upset they had no Kindle version, but I made due with the paperback. Besides, now I have a book to give away to someone else who wants to read it. Maybe Kenn.

Now before I begin critiquing the book, let me first say that it was a wonderful story. The characters had a life to them and there was an element of truth to both points of view. Mr. Hansen seems to have a wonderful writing talent and some of his imagery was almost poignant. All-in-all, the book was a great success, and I’m glad I read it.

There were, however, a few things that bothered me a great deal. The first is a general complaint about a lot of modern writers I’ve read recently. Several times throughout this book, Mr. Hansen chose to describe a scene and create a sense of emotion by the way his sentences were displayed rather than with their content. I accept that sentence structure can play an important role in the pacing of the story, but taken to this extreme it reminded me of a similar practice in Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. With the sentences written in near bullet-points, the stacatto rhythm was meant to convey a sense of silence, tranquility, and serenity, but with an undercurrent of tension. It does accomplish its task, but the cost to me as a reader is huge. The writing style also serves to take me completely out of the story, becoming more aware of the words on the page and less aware of the scene as a whole. It leaves me wondering why these authors, who are incredibly talented and can write amazing descriptive scenery, are flocking towards tricks of formatting. More than anything, I feel as if the style robbed me of a great wealth of description. Even now, after having read the book, while i can picture a few main characters and a room or two, I’m at a general loss for what the rest of the world looks like. While the moral and religious conflicts may stick with me for a time, I’m certain that I will have soon forgotten any imagery herein.

Finally, I must protest about the ending. Perhaps it is the American in me, but I wanted more resolution. I understand that the book had to keep things up in the air, and I’m fine with that, but the way the ending played out seemed less to bring the tension to a head than it did to deflate it and fizzle away. I’ll leave my complaint on this point with that statement. Anything more may spoil the reading experience for others.

So, in closing, I would recommend this book to anyone interested in the subject matter. If you’re not enticed by the wonders of cloistered life or the mystery of a religious calling, or if you think a story about a nun who may or may not have had a visitation from Christ is not very interesting, you’ll want to pass this one by. Enjoy!

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One of the greatest things about my Kindle is the ability to wirelessly browse Amazon’s store, decide I want to read a book, purchase and download it, and begin reading immediately. This was the case with Poison Study, by Maria V. Snyder.

Ms. Synder, a former meteorologist, became a career author in 1995 when this, her first book, was published. She’s a self-described “Pantser,” or someone who writes from the seat of her pants. Her novels are written from start to finish with her plot twists and surprises developing for her as well as her readers on-the-fly. It’s a technique that some authors can follow to excellent results, while others flail about and fall on their face. Luckily for Ms. Snyder, she is in the former category.

The main character of the story, Yelena, begins the book locked in a dungeon awaiting her execution for the murder of her former lord when she is offered a choice, become the new food-taster for the Commander or face the noose. Yelena makes the obvious choice and all manner of subterfuge, assassination attempts, magic, swordplay, and betrayals commence. The book picks up your attention quickly–a rarity these days in the fantasy world–and doesn’t let go until the final page. Ms. Snyder’s ability to weave complex character motivations and give a sense of a living, breathing person are her greatest attributes. Her plots, while simple, are carried on by the vibrance of the characters and the ever-developing world around them.

After laying down this first book in her “Study” series, I can say with some confidence that I’ll be reading the sequel very soon. For those of you looking for a quick fantasy book filled with adventure, danger, magic, and of course poisons, this book will fit the bill nicely. I recommend reading it with a cup of hot tea you made yourself, just to be safe.

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I’d like to start off by saying I’m a sucker for a good fantasy book. You can call it a weakness, or a predilection, or preference, and I won’t argue with you. Since my dad brought home my first Piers Anthony book when I was a child, reading about sword and sorcery has always made me smile.

Of course my love of the genre does not necessarily translate to my love of a particular book. I’ve read enough epic fantasy stories to find many cliché, obtuse, obvious, or the dreaded fan-boy driveling of an author who is obsessed with their old Dungeons and Dragons characters.

When I picked up A Game of Thrones, I knew straight away it wasn’t going to be one of those amateur pieces. At the same time, though, I recognized right away that George R.R. Martin was in no hurry to rush into the action.

In much the same way as The Wheel of Time, the book began laboriously slow. I admit it took me more than a few tries to finally push through to the end. In fact, with many of these epic stories that are planned to be a series from the start, much of the first book is just set-up, character development, setting and mechanics development, or training to get you in the habit of reading lots of silly names. For A Game of Thrones, there was plenty of that last part.

By the time I had reached the halfway point of the book, I was ready to call it quits on the series. Nothing much had happened and I wasn’t very attached to any of the characters. One of my biggest complaints was that the author seemed to give each of his chapters only a single scene that when concluded would inevitably end with a cliffhanger and a switch to a new point of view. The result was that as each chapter ended I found myself just settling in to that character, only to be jolted over to a new one.

The quick character swaps eventually lost their sting as I took them in the stride of the greater story. Once the hand-full of cast members were established, Martin’s chapter technique seemed fitting. When a chapter ended and a new one began with the new character’s name printed in bolded letters as a title, I would smile and look forward to picking up where we had left off a few chapters earlier.

As my progress reached about 70%, I hit the ‘hook’ as I like to call it. That is the moment when the story has you so fully invested, finishing is no longer in question. 70% might be a new record for leisure in the fantasy setting, one that I’m not sure Martin should be proud of. It seems a bit excessive for anyone but the most invested reader.

Aside from the lengthy introductions, this book did have its charms. It is rare to find an author so comfortable with killing off his characters. The result is a very gritty world where showing any mercy leads to tragic death. Perhaps it isn’t the most upbeat message, but as one character explains, “When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.”

Martin’s characters are colorful, dynamic, capable of learning and growing yet still subject to their core qualities and weaknesses. Concepts like honor and duty are double-edged swords, as likely to lead to impossible and dire situations as they are to glory. It is not a book of fairytales where the valiant always win, but somehow it does leave you with a sense of hope. Perhaps it’s just hope that all of the books in the series won’t be so dark.

All in all, my biggest complaint was also my biggest distraction from the characters and plot. The sexuality in certain scenes burst forth in an often awkward or haphazard way, both graphic and violent. While some might try to argue that it supported and expanded on the bitter settings and grizzly characters, I believe these parts of the book were little more than the author’s frustrations passing onto the page. After the hundredth rape, I felt less convinced that the men of this world had different values than me than I felt sure that the author had a bad date-night.

After several reading attempts, a long period of development, surprising deaths, beautiful battles, raunchy sex, despicable characters and epic cliffhangers, A Game of Thrones left me with a positive feeling for the rest of the series. While I wont be running out to pick up the sequel today, it will be on my short list for the future. With any luck the author found a nice stable relationship before he penned book 2.

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