Sunday, 6 January 2013

Cloud Atlas: the book

Gotsta say, I prefer the movie. This isn't often the case and it isn't even because the books wouldn't be good. It's quite good. I quite like it. I just like the movie better.

Mostly, probably, because I am a sucker for love. Being the oil for cogs in all human (and some alien ...  and orc) relations, I favour it above hate, greed, strife, revenge and any pick of the garden variety psychosis'. In the book, there is no love as such. In the movie everything is about it. Some of the most beautiful love stories I've consumed via fiction recently come from that film. Hence I've decided, instead of reading the rest of the book, I'll just watch the movie a few more dozen times. 

Yesterday General's family had the slaughtering. Two pigs went into The Big Sty in heaven and we got lots of sausages. There wasn't really a lot for me to do, except perhaps peel potatoes and make salads and set up tables for numerous meals between the actual work, being done by more manly people. The rest of the time I read. Funniest part of this story is, I was so tired when we got home, I literally fell down asleep. I do remember getting onto the bed, but usually I have a ritual of tossing and turning, which at the finish involves me flattening onto my tummy, face in pillow and passing out. Give or take a profound title for a possible short story, which is by morning clearly forgotten. I remember my last thought being 'I must turn at some point' and that was it. General was laughing at me today, saying he barely managed to sit down behind his comp to start farming in Pandaria, when I was already snoring like an old coal miner. He asked his mum via phone what the heck they were doing to me. I clearly require more slaughter fitness.

Anyheys, the book. I've read all of Sonmi, most of Sloosha, half of Frobisher's letters and little bit of Louisa. I may read all of Louisa still. But the one word that strikes me, reading it all, is 'mysoginistic'. There doesn't seem to be very much of spark in these people, these characters. They are all so terribly despondent, so terribly heavy. I can understand Hae-Joo was actually a manipulative asshole, but I am disappointed at how passionately Frobisher falls in awe with Eva in the book - and he's describing this to his boyfriend! That makes no sense to me at all. In fact, it depresses me. I've had too much of that for one lifetime. And I wouldn't like it even if it wasn't 'cutting so close to home'.

Which reminds me. Oh :D Hitchcock. I am starting to really awe at James D'Arcy. I can't fathom how I never noticed this man before. I've only seen bits of that movie (enough to see it's nowhere as inspiring as the trailer suggests), but the bit in which he's talking to his potential boss about his mother is LOL.