Week 41: How to Train your Dragon – Cressida Cowell
Recommended by: Kathryn Hays
Things I knew about How to Train your Dragon before it was recommended to me: there was a film (and a sequel) and... that's it. Somewhat unusually I didn't even know it was based on a book, never mind a bestselling series of a dozen titles. Still, it's nice to go in with essentially zero expectations about it because this rarely happens.
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III is a Viking, and an unusual one at that. For a start he's ten, but he's also uncommonly smart and somewhat on the scrawny side. As part of the rite of passage to become a fully-fledged member of the tribe, he and the other boys have to capture and then train their own dragons. Fail to do so and they face exile. What could possibly go wrong?
Fairly unsurprisingly, quite a lot can and does indeed go wrong, combining into an enjoyable mix of silliness, seriousness, anarchy and bodily functions. It felt like it was coming from a similar place to comics (British ones à la The Beano as opposed to American superheroes), as well as a rich literary vein with elements of Roald Dahl and Horrid Henry among others. And it's undeniably British in style too, coming from an equally brilliant comedy lineage, with a dash of the Pythonesque about it, a dollop of Blackadder and even a pinch of the madcap antics of Bottom. It doesn't feel out of place in such illustrious company.
Knowing now that it's the first of a long series, it does very much feel like the opening salvo. It's short and self-contained and works well on its own terms. How that translates into longer term character development and world building can't be answered from this but I would be interested to find out. I like the fact that children's books are undergoing a bit of a renaissance in being illustrated but I can't say I was blown away by those on offer here. They do fit the book's style ok but I don't feel they really enhance things in the way of Quentin Blake, Tove Jansson or Tony DiTerlizzi to name but three.
I did have a cheeky listen to a sample of the audiobooks though and feel that could be a very positive experience. David Tennant is both an excellent choice for the material and one of my man crushes so it's hard to see how I would fail to appreciate that. Overall then it was an enjoyable romp with comic touches and an entertaining plot and I'd like to see how the tale of Hiccup and Toothless continues.
Saturday, 31 October 2015
Wednesday, 21 October 2015
Break Me Gently
Week 40: The Silver Dark Sea – Susan Fletcher
Recommended by: Marian Davidson
Atmosphere. Moods more than movements. A sense of place that is half-formed, half-imagined. That's what The Silver Dark Sea is. The kind of book that you want to soundtrack for that fully immersive sensory experience. Something like the haunting melodies of Doves' Lost Souls, maybe with the isolation of Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters by The Twilight Sad, the raw emotion of Portishead's Dummy and a layer of the fuzzy dreamscapes, if not the feedback, of My Bloody Valentine's Loveless. Or simply the sound of the sea.
For it is the sea that is at the heart of the novel. Four years have passed since Maggie's husband vanished off the coast of a remote Scottish island. The community, essentially an extended family, sway to its endless tides. And out of nowhere a mysterious stranger washes up on the shore. To many he is the Fishman, a mythical sea creature, and like a stone cast in a pond, his appearance creates ripples among the cast.
It's more velvet glove than iron fist though, as this legend-come-to-life somehow manages to shake things up softly. He cuts through their secrets and their silences whilst remaining an enigma to them. Told from multiple viewpoints, the characters are lightly sketched rather than inked in, though this isn't a criticism. We are absorbed into their inner worlds, corners of their life are thrown into sharp focus, allowing the reader to apply their own watercolours to fill in the gaps.
The story flows easily, lyrical and softly lit, easing the pain which is so often at the forefront of events. It demonstrates how small things can have subtle but significant effects. And how sometimes we all need some patience, some tenderness, some healing. If there's a criticism it's that all of the strands are tied up a little too neatly at the but I'm a romantic at heart and it has a fairy tale quality to it so I'm willing to forgive Fletcher for offering her characters their happy endings. This is a beautiful book, occupying a space in a half-world between myth and reality. Lie back and let its gentle rhythms wash over you.
Recommended by: Marian Davidson
Atmosphere. Moods more than movements. A sense of place that is half-formed, half-imagined. That's what The Silver Dark Sea is. The kind of book that you want to soundtrack for that fully immersive sensory experience. Something like the haunting melodies of Doves' Lost Souls, maybe with the isolation of Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters by The Twilight Sad, the raw emotion of Portishead's Dummy and a layer of the fuzzy dreamscapes, if not the feedback, of My Bloody Valentine's Loveless. Or simply the sound of the sea.
For it is the sea that is at the heart of the novel. Four years have passed since Maggie's husband vanished off the coast of a remote Scottish island. The community, essentially an extended family, sway to its endless tides. And out of nowhere a mysterious stranger washes up on the shore. To many he is the Fishman, a mythical sea creature, and like a stone cast in a pond, his appearance creates ripples among the cast.
It's more velvet glove than iron fist though, as this legend-come-to-life somehow manages to shake things up softly. He cuts through their secrets and their silences whilst remaining an enigma to them. Told from multiple viewpoints, the characters are lightly sketched rather than inked in, though this isn't a criticism. We are absorbed into their inner worlds, corners of their life are thrown into sharp focus, allowing the reader to apply their own watercolours to fill in the gaps.
The story flows easily, lyrical and softly lit, easing the pain which is so often at the forefront of events. It demonstrates how small things can have subtle but significant effects. And how sometimes we all need some patience, some tenderness, some healing. If there's a criticism it's that all of the strands are tied up a little too neatly at the but I'm a romantic at heart and it has a fairy tale quality to it so I'm willing to forgive Fletcher for offering her characters their happy endings. This is a beautiful book, occupying a space in a half-world between myth and reality. Lie back and let its gentle rhythms wash over you.
Tuesday, 13 October 2015
Human after all
Week 39: The Humans – Matt Haig
Recommended by: Gareth Watkins
Moving on in fairly rapid succession from The Martian to The Humans it feels like I've come a little closer to home, even if the protagonist in the former is a human and that of the latter is a martian. Ok, he's actually a Vonnadorian but he's definitely still an alien. He has been sent to Earth to kill and replace a Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge University who has just discovered the answer to life, the universe and everything.
This is perceived as a threat from halfway across the universe as those pesky humans are simply not smart or advanced enough to be able to handle such a complex and important piece of information. As 'Andrew' adapts to his new life, we are presented with an outsider's view of humans, their follies, their foibles and their fantastic bits. Inevitably he starts to be humanised and discovers that life on Earth and the relationships of even a single person are rather complicated. And just in case you were wondering, the mysterious answer has something to do with primes, so it's definitely not 42.
So if all of this sounds a bit like a Nick Hornby or David Nichols story as written by Douglas Adams, you'd be pretty close to the money. Things for Andrew don't always go to plan and we're left with him getting into and out of a series of farcical situations throughout the first part of the novel. This is interspersed with a humorous look at some of the daft things we do without thinking that they might be a bit silly, simply because we have always done them. Observations on the usual suspects – think religion, love, the news – are all here but fortunately Haig is genuinely funny so is able to pull it off. A favourite being when our hero encounters a student called Zoe: "I like violent men. I don't know why. It's kind of a self-harm thing. I go to Peterborough a lot. Rich pickings."
During the second half of the novel, Andrew finds out more about what being a human means and starts to form close relationships with 'his' wife and son. Indeed, he actually seems to be a better husband and father than the man he replaced and he starts to go rogue and ignore his mission. Needless to say there are a few twists and turns in order for more comedy, as well as some emotional drama. I don't know if anyone has snapped up the film rights (I'd guess so, pretty much everything seems to be optioned these days) but it would easily translate to the big screen. Indeed, it has a screenplay-like quality to it and I can certainly imagine something that blends elements of Third Rock from the Sun, Red Dwarf and a rom-com.
I'm not completely sure the style of humour and sentiment would be to everyone's taste, though they are to min,e and Haig has sufficient skill to pull off both. There's also some big 'love is all' kind of messages at the end, delivered as advice for his son. This veers a little towards mawkishness but generally works because at heart the book is good-natured and funny. And any book which closes by quoting Talking Heads' beautiful This Must be the Place definitely gets a thumbs up from me.
Recommended by: Gareth Watkins
Moving on in fairly rapid succession from The Martian to The Humans it feels like I've come a little closer to home, even if the protagonist in the former is a human and that of the latter is a martian. Ok, he's actually a Vonnadorian but he's definitely still an alien. He has been sent to Earth to kill and replace a Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge University who has just discovered the answer to life, the universe and everything.
This is perceived as a threat from halfway across the universe as those pesky humans are simply not smart or advanced enough to be able to handle such a complex and important piece of information. As 'Andrew' adapts to his new life, we are presented with an outsider's view of humans, their follies, their foibles and their fantastic bits. Inevitably he starts to be humanised and discovers that life on Earth and the relationships of even a single person are rather complicated. And just in case you were wondering, the mysterious answer has something to do with primes, so it's definitely not 42.
So if all of this sounds a bit like a Nick Hornby or David Nichols story as written by Douglas Adams, you'd be pretty close to the money. Things for Andrew don't always go to plan and we're left with him getting into and out of a series of farcical situations throughout the first part of the novel. This is interspersed with a humorous look at some of the daft things we do without thinking that they might be a bit silly, simply because we have always done them. Observations on the usual suspects – think religion, love, the news – are all here but fortunately Haig is genuinely funny so is able to pull it off. A favourite being when our hero encounters a student called Zoe: "I like violent men. I don't know why. It's kind of a self-harm thing. I go to Peterborough a lot. Rich pickings."
During the second half of the novel, Andrew finds out more about what being a human means and starts to form close relationships with 'his' wife and son. Indeed, he actually seems to be a better husband and father than the man he replaced and he starts to go rogue and ignore his mission. Needless to say there are a few twists and turns in order for more comedy, as well as some emotional drama. I don't know if anyone has snapped up the film rights (I'd guess so, pretty much everything seems to be optioned these days) but it would easily translate to the big screen. Indeed, it has a screenplay-like quality to it and I can certainly imagine something that blends elements of Third Rock from the Sun, Red Dwarf and a rom-com.
I'm not completely sure the style of humour and sentiment would be to everyone's taste, though they are to min,e and Haig has sufficient skill to pull off both. There's also some big 'love is all' kind of messages at the end, delivered as advice for his son. This veers a little towards mawkishness but generally works because at heart the book is good-natured and funny. And any book which closes by quoting Talking Heads' beautiful This Must be the Place definitely gets a thumbs up from me.
Wednesday, 7 October 2015
Off the rails
Week 38: The Girl on the Train – Paula Hawkins
Recommended by: Maddy Watson
Now this is an unusual situation: twice in the last three recommendations I've read 'buzz books', those titles which everyone (allegedly) is reading as part of a brief pop culture phenomenon. Or something like that. Usually these titles pass me by because I'm either not desperate to read them, am sceptical of the circus that surrounds them so wait till the hype dies down a bit, and the fact I tend not to buy hardbacks. The Girl on the Train has been intensively promoted and talked about for several months, sold a shed load of copies and isn't out in paperback yet. It was pitched to me for this reason, as well as falling into that other not dissimilar category of 'beach read'. I've just come back from holiday, I went to the beach, I read the book. This is presumably what they refer to as a result.
The inevitable comparison is with Gone Girl, the psychological thriller de jour of a couple of years ago, and makes sense given the subject matter, unreliable narration and even the title. This didn't fill me with hope as I found Gone Girl dreadful thanks to the devastating combination of a nonsensical plot, a narcissistic villain who is described as a genius yet acts incompetently, and a cameo from the Keystone Kops as the police force. The icing on the cake was the total lack of suspense and mystery which really is the nail in the coffin of a thriller.
The Girl on the Train was at least better than that. Sure, it was a bit trashy and the writing wasn't great, but it was a decent page turner and that basically sums up what most people want from a beach read. It ticked that box for me too. I wanted to find out what happened, even though I figured out who the perpetrator was relatively early on. This wasn't because there were real clues and it annoys me when things are sprung on you when there was no way you could have rationally worked it out, I feel it's cheating the reader. Instead it was straight from the Scooby Doo methodology, which is equally problematic as it relies on breaking the fourth wall and is more the reader cheating the book. Still, enough tension was maintained as the book built to its climax.
Of all of the characters, Rachel was the most interesting and fleshed out. She was also the one who I felt some real sympathy for. In spite of her problems, regardless of whether they were self-inflicted or not, her actions, however misguided, were largely done with her heart in the right place. I liked finding out about Megan, how Rachel's fantasies about her had no basis in reality, but she still seemed a bit lightweight, a hologram rather than a person. As for Anna, she was so bland it's an insult to orchid pods everywhere to describe her as vanilla.
The portrayal of women is also pretty regressive. All of them are not just defined either by their relationships to men or children, but more depressingly they all define themselves in that way. Ok, so one could argue that there isn't anything inherently wrong with this – I'm not going to, and there's an almost unlimited amount that could be said on the subject – but in a book with three female narrators, all of whom are victims in various ways, it's a little sad that all of them fall into this pattern.
Compare this with The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, a buzz book from a few years ago that I also read on holiday (only coming to it now being far more typical for me!) Lisbeth is a fascinating, complex character who refuses to be a victim in spite of personal problems and while there is a large amount of violence against women in the book, it very much feels like it's got something important to say on the subject, alerting the readership to the scale and seriousness of the issue and treating it with compassion and respect. In contrast, the message of The Girl on the Train seems simply to be that someone you know might be a nutter.
I guess in terms of hitting its objectives, it largely succeeds if one judges it by its own criteria, and I suspect it works well enough for its target audience, though I am probably not it. For all my criticisms it did keep my attention and I liked Rachel's character and narration so I can't say it was a bad book, just not a very good one.
Recommended by: Maddy Watson
Now this is an unusual situation: twice in the last three recommendations I've read 'buzz books', those titles which everyone (allegedly) is reading as part of a brief pop culture phenomenon. Or something like that. Usually these titles pass me by because I'm either not desperate to read them, am sceptical of the circus that surrounds them so wait till the hype dies down a bit, and the fact I tend not to buy hardbacks. The Girl on the Train has been intensively promoted and talked about for several months, sold a shed load of copies and isn't out in paperback yet. It was pitched to me for this reason, as well as falling into that other not dissimilar category of 'beach read'. I've just come back from holiday, I went to the beach, I read the book. This is presumably what they refer to as a result.
The inevitable comparison is with Gone Girl, the psychological thriller de jour of a couple of years ago, and makes sense given the subject matter, unreliable narration and even the title. This didn't fill me with hope as I found Gone Girl dreadful thanks to the devastating combination of a nonsensical plot, a narcissistic villain who is described as a genius yet acts incompetently, and a cameo from the Keystone Kops as the police force. The icing on the cake was the total lack of suspense and mystery which really is the nail in the coffin of a thriller.
The Girl on the Train was at least better than that. Sure, it was a bit trashy and the writing wasn't great, but it was a decent page turner and that basically sums up what most people want from a beach read. It ticked that box for me too. I wanted to find out what happened, even though I figured out who the perpetrator was relatively early on. This wasn't because there were real clues and it annoys me when things are sprung on you when there was no way you could have rationally worked it out, I feel it's cheating the reader. Instead it was straight from the Scooby Doo methodology, which is equally problematic as it relies on breaking the fourth wall and is more the reader cheating the book. Still, enough tension was maintained as the book built to its climax.
Of all of the characters, Rachel was the most interesting and fleshed out. She was also the one who I felt some real sympathy for. In spite of her problems, regardless of whether they were self-inflicted or not, her actions, however misguided, were largely done with her heart in the right place. I liked finding out about Megan, how Rachel's fantasies about her had no basis in reality, but she still seemed a bit lightweight, a hologram rather than a person. As for Anna, she was so bland it's an insult to orchid pods everywhere to describe her as vanilla.
The portrayal of women is also pretty regressive. All of them are not just defined either by their relationships to men or children, but more depressingly they all define themselves in that way. Ok, so one could argue that there isn't anything inherently wrong with this – I'm not going to, and there's an almost unlimited amount that could be said on the subject – but in a book with three female narrators, all of whom are victims in various ways, it's a little sad that all of them fall into this pattern.
Compare this with The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, a buzz book from a few years ago that I also read on holiday (only coming to it now being far more typical for me!) Lisbeth is a fascinating, complex character who refuses to be a victim in spite of personal problems and while there is a large amount of violence against women in the book, it very much feels like it's got something important to say on the subject, alerting the readership to the scale and seriousness of the issue and treating it with compassion and respect. In contrast, the message of The Girl on the Train seems simply to be that someone you know might be a nutter.
I guess in terms of hitting its objectives, it largely succeeds if one judges it by its own criteria, and I suspect it works well enough for its target audience, though I am probably not it. For all my criticisms it did keep my attention and I liked Rachel's character and narration so I can't say it was a bad book, just not a very good one.
Tuesday, 6 October 2015
Indian winter
Week 37: A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mishtry
Recommended by: Holly Vitow
With post-colonial literature, I'm not massively well read but I've read bits and pieces, mostly from Africa and the Indian subcontinent. Of that which I've read, I've vastly preferred the African experience. Indeed, I can't remember an Indian novel that I've truly liked, and that includes Booker Prize winners from Salman Rushdie, Arundhati Roy, Kiran Desai and Aravind Adiga. (Sidenote: another ongoing reading challenge was to read all of the Booker winners, something I'm on top of and personal taste being what it is, some have been exceptional, others have done nothing for me.) Anyway, this one has been on my list since right at the start of the year and my first request for recommendations and, if truth be told, it's one I'd been putting off for the above reasons. All I can say is more fool me.
I was wrong on this one. Very, very wrong. Because A Fine Balance was a fantastic book. It was finally the post-colonial Indian novel I've been looking for . Epic in scale, small in detail, it's a Dickensian (a good thing) portrait of four characters brought together during the state of emergency in the 1970s, a period of authoritarian rule and the curbing of civil liberties. Mishtry gets under the skin of the characters, bringing them, their worlds, and India itself to life with consummate skill.
Dina, Ishvar, Omprakesh and Manek come from diverse backgrounds, all have their own troubles but they are brought together through economic circumstance and start to forge complex relationships in this harsh and unforgiving period. The reader is taken on an emotional journey as we see caste, gender and politics all come in to play throughout the intertwining narratives. It is a brutal world as well, yet the characters come to rely on each other in spite of their individual hardships.
I don't think it's giving away much to say that this is no fairy tale. And perhaps that also contributed as it was a step away from magical realism, which is also something I've never really enjoyed. Instead it is simply grounded in realism, the only magic being that it is exceptionally written and with three-dimensional characters that I came to care deeply about. It is an affecting and affectionate novel, offering compassion to its protagonists and criticism of elements and society, especially the government, the way only art can. Quite simply one of the best books I've read this year.
Recommended by: Holly Vitow
With post-colonial literature, I'm not massively well read but I've read bits and pieces, mostly from Africa and the Indian subcontinent. Of that which I've read, I've vastly preferred the African experience. Indeed, I can't remember an Indian novel that I've truly liked, and that includes Booker Prize winners from Salman Rushdie, Arundhati Roy, Kiran Desai and Aravind Adiga. (Sidenote: another ongoing reading challenge was to read all of the Booker winners, something I'm on top of and personal taste being what it is, some have been exceptional, others have done nothing for me.) Anyway, this one has been on my list since right at the start of the year and my first request for recommendations and, if truth be told, it's one I'd been putting off for the above reasons. All I can say is more fool me.
I was wrong on this one. Very, very wrong. Because A Fine Balance was a fantastic book. It was finally the post-colonial Indian novel I've been looking for . Epic in scale, small in detail, it's a Dickensian (a good thing) portrait of four characters brought together during the state of emergency in the 1970s, a period of authoritarian rule and the curbing of civil liberties. Mishtry gets under the skin of the characters, bringing them, their worlds, and India itself to life with consummate skill.
Dina, Ishvar, Omprakesh and Manek come from diverse backgrounds, all have their own troubles but they are brought together through economic circumstance and start to forge complex relationships in this harsh and unforgiving period. The reader is taken on an emotional journey as we see caste, gender and politics all come in to play throughout the intertwining narratives. It is a brutal world as well, yet the characters come to rely on each other in spite of their individual hardships.
I don't think it's giving away much to say that this is no fairy tale. And perhaps that also contributed as it was a step away from magical realism, which is also something I've never really enjoyed. Instead it is simply grounded in realism, the only magic being that it is exceptionally written and with three-dimensional characters that I came to care deeply about. It is an affecting and affectionate novel, offering compassion to its protagonists and criticism of elements and society, especially the government, the way only art can. Quite simply one of the best books I've read this year.
Monday, 5 October 2015
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on
Week 36: The Martian – Andy Weir
Recommended by: Lauren Perrie
"The best thing I've read in ages" is always asking for trouble. As is asking your girlfriend to recommend you a book that you then have to read and review (vaguely) objectively. I've been badgering her for a full nine months now to choose something for me to read, tick following tock, and finally she decided on this one. Good things come to those who...?
Well, yes actually. This one had slipped under my radar (ha ha) but suddenly I find myself for the second time in as many months (ish) reading a book soon to be made into a blockbuster. The premise of this one is simple: as a result of a terrible accident, astronaut Mark Watney is stranded on Mars. With limited food, water and oxygen, not to mention many other hazards, he's on a battle against the clock to survive that seems essentially hopeless. And that's it.
Why the book wins is the (as far as I'm aware) meticulous research that has gone into it to ensure that what Watney does to survive is unlikely but genuinely feasible. He is after all a very pragmatic, capable person – everyone sent on the Mars expeditions falls into this category – but it is the attention to detail that makes the story work. Reciting passages of scientific explanation could be tedious, and maybe to some people it is, but context is everything and here it becomes intense and adds real suspense. I also really liked the fact that NASA and the other astronauts are shown as being highly competent, which let's be honest, they should be. Too often in crime and thriller books various parties, often the police, seem to be strangely incompetent, which can put a damper on suspension of disbelief to either advance the plot or show the protagonist in a better light. Here it turns out a lot of very smart people actually prove to be very smart, there's just very little they can do about the fact Watney is alone and trapped 225 million kilometres away.
The straight up style may not be to everyone's taste, the writing is definitely neither Hemingway nor Fitzgerald, but it works here. It should also be borne in mind that the majority of the story is in diary entries and engineer and biologist Watney nowhere declares himself to be a literary genius. Equally, I can see why Watney's characteristic silliness and humour could grate with some, though I enjoyed it and it simply felt like a facet of his personality. The other criticism you could level at it, and this one I can understand, is the fact he remains so upbeat and positive in a situation that by all rights ought to be totally hopeless. Maybe I'm not a practical genius and a survivor, but I can't help but feel I would quickly be crushed by the weight of despair.
Regardless of this, the odds are very much not in Watney's favour, the difficulties of even the most seemingly simple tasks are actually a battle for survival, and it is this simplicity that shines throughout. It's a good idea, painstakingly researched, and smartly told, adding up to an excellent blockbuster read. By all accounts the film does this justice so I look forward to seeing how it translates to the big screen.
Recommended by: Lauren Perrie
"The best thing I've read in ages" is always asking for trouble. As is asking your girlfriend to recommend you a book that you then have to read and review (vaguely) objectively. I've been badgering her for a full nine months now to choose something for me to read, tick following tock, and finally she decided on this one. Good things come to those who...?
Well, yes actually. This one had slipped under my radar (ha ha) but suddenly I find myself for the second time in as many months (ish) reading a book soon to be made into a blockbuster. The premise of this one is simple: as a result of a terrible accident, astronaut Mark Watney is stranded on Mars. With limited food, water and oxygen, not to mention many other hazards, he's on a battle against the clock to survive that seems essentially hopeless. And that's it.
Why the book wins is the (as far as I'm aware) meticulous research that has gone into it to ensure that what Watney does to survive is unlikely but genuinely feasible. He is after all a very pragmatic, capable person – everyone sent on the Mars expeditions falls into this category – but it is the attention to detail that makes the story work. Reciting passages of scientific explanation could be tedious, and maybe to some people it is, but context is everything and here it becomes intense and adds real suspense. I also really liked the fact that NASA and the other astronauts are shown as being highly competent, which let's be honest, they should be. Too often in crime and thriller books various parties, often the police, seem to be strangely incompetent, which can put a damper on suspension of disbelief to either advance the plot or show the protagonist in a better light. Here it turns out a lot of very smart people actually prove to be very smart, there's just very little they can do about the fact Watney is alone and trapped 225 million kilometres away.
The straight up style may not be to everyone's taste, the writing is definitely neither Hemingway nor Fitzgerald, but it works here. It should also be borne in mind that the majority of the story is in diary entries and engineer and biologist Watney nowhere declares himself to be a literary genius. Equally, I can see why Watney's characteristic silliness and humour could grate with some, though I enjoyed it and it simply felt like a facet of his personality. The other criticism you could level at it, and this one I can understand, is the fact he remains so upbeat and positive in a situation that by all rights ought to be totally hopeless. Maybe I'm not a practical genius and a survivor, but I can't help but feel I would quickly be crushed by the weight of despair.
Regardless of this, the odds are very much not in Watney's favour, the difficulties of even the most seemingly simple tasks are actually a battle for survival, and it is this simplicity that shines throughout. It's a good idea, painstakingly researched, and smartly told, adding up to an excellent blockbuster read. By all accounts the film does this justice so I look forward to seeing how it translates to the big screen.
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