<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8846102943872901061</id><updated>2008-03-22T20:57:45.038-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Halcyon Flies Reviews</title><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/reviews.html'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8846102943872901061/posts/default'/><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/reviews.xml'/><author><name>Bryan Tarpley</name></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8846102943872901061.post-8573416249441259080</id><published>2008-03-22T20:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T20:57:45.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Soul Twinkie</title><content type='html'>Brian McLaren can be fun:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;In the theological wing of colonialism, God no longer cared about sparrows and wildflowers; God cared for people's souls (and perhaps only for some special 'elect' people's souls), each of which would be extracted like a Hostess Twinkie from its cellophane wrapper either at death or at the end of the world.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From &lt;i&gt;Everything Must Change&lt;/i&gt;.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/2008/03/soul-twinkie.html' title='Soul Twinkie'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8846102943872901061&amp;postID=8573416249441259080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/reviews.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8846102943872901061/posts/default/8573416249441259080'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8846102943872901061/posts/default/8573416249441259080'/><author><name>Bryan Tarpley</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8846102943872901061.post-8001451689519661463</id><published>2008-03-20T15:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T15:31:20.707-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='5 stars'/><title type='text'>The Machinist</title><content type='html'>I watched &lt;i&gt;The Machinist&lt;/i&gt; last night starring Christian Bale. There was some controversy around the time of this movie's release regarding the way Bale starved himself to look as thin as he does. In this movie, there are several shots of him without his shirt, and he looks exactly like a holocaust victim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starvation aside, this movie is incredible. Bale's character's name is Trevor Reznik, a name reminiscent of Trent Reznor, the lead singer for Nine Inch Nails. And because of the gritty, dark, and mechanical nature of the film, the movie certainly feels like a NIN song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps because of its NIN'ness, I was expecting a lot of violence and depravity. Watching it, you feel as though at any moment someone is going to kill someone, someone's going to get raped, someone's going to suffer at the hands of a psychopath. When the plot finally unravels and you receive the epiphany the movie builds toward, you do a double-take, think back upon the events of the movie, and realize nothing of the sort has happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, there is an extremely disturbing scene where someone's arm is chewed up by machinery. It happens relatively early and you get plenty of warning, so if you are squeamish, I strongly recommend closing your eyes for this part. Once you're past this, if you can make it through the uncomfortable ambiance this movie places you in, you won't regret it. The way every scene folds back into itself and the imagery subtly echoes and layers upon itself once you reach the ending is astounding. The hour of discomfort you feel is a small price to pay for such an incredible payoff.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/2008/03/machinist.html' title='The Machinist'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8846102943872901061&amp;postID=8001451689519661463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/reviews.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8846102943872901061/posts/default/8001451689519661463'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8846102943872901061/posts/default/8001451689519661463'/><author><name>Bryan Tarpley</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8846102943872901061.post-7223128214883072716</id><published>2008-03-19T18:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T15:31:48.444-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='5 stars'/><title type='text'>Sexy Prose</title><content type='html'>From Edith Wharton's &lt;i&gt;Summer&lt;/i&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;After a while the scattered fireworks ceased. A longer interval of darkness followed, and then the whole night broke into flower. From every point of the horizon, gold and silver arches sprang up and crossed each other, sky-orchards broke into blossom, shed their flaming petals and hung their branches with golden fruit; and all the while the air was filled with a soft supernatural hum, as though great birds were building their nests in those invisible tree-tops.&lt;/blockquote&gt;</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/2008/03/sexy-prose.html' title='Sexy Prose'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8846102943872901061&amp;postID=7223128214883072716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/reviews.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8846102943872901061/posts/default/7223128214883072716'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8846102943872901061/posts/default/7223128214883072716'/><author><name>Bryan Tarpley</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8846102943872901061.post-6441390388176007530</id><published>2008-03-13T11:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T15:32:11.011-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 stars'/><title type='text'>Lullaby</title><content type='html'>Chuck Palahniuk's &lt;em&gt;Lullaby&lt;/em&gt; is a strange book.  Aside from the necrophilia, it's a fun read too.  The fabulist fiction convention of the novel is that certain combinations of sounds have direct effects on reality, whether spoken or thought (spellcasting).  The title comes from a children's song found in a book which, when read, results in the death of all who listen.  I had to write a goofy response to the novel (one of those pieces of busy work assigned to make sure students actually read).  You can find it below... it's not very enlightening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A Dichotomy of Stances"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chuck Palahniuk's Lullaby can be seen in generalized terms as a book exploring the empowerment of four kinds of people, each represented by a passenger of Helen Hoover Boyle's car.  Each person maintains a different stance in the presence of society.  The following chart bares this out: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table border="1" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="3"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;SELFISH&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;ALTRUISTIC&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;PROACTIVE&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Helen&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Mona&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;REACTIVE&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Oyster&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Carl&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;While certainly reductive (and not necessarily true for these characters by the end of the novel), this dichotomy of stances helps convey, perhaps, what Palahniuk may be saying through his characters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To begin with, it is evident that each of the selfish passengers have power over their altruistic counterparts.  Helen, for instance, appears to lead Carl by the nose.  This power culminates in the scene where Helen, in possession of Sarge's body, has her hand up Carl's anus.  This image, in a prison context, makes Carl Helen's "bitch."  It also suggests that Helen is controlling Carl much in the same physical manner in which a ventriloquist controls a dummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mona behaves like a battered woman:  she is codependent on her abusive boyfriend.  Oyster calls her stupid, and throws away her Indian book.  From Carl's perspective, Oyster's demand that Mona leave with him when he gets kicked out of Helen's car is "not about love, it's about control" (188).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The altruistic characters, however, appear to maintain some shred of their humanity.  Carl turns down immortality and feels duty bound to kill Nash and turn himself in to the authorities.  He empathizes with the bitter man in the trailer, shares his tears, and ultimately kills him out of mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mona keeps the culling spell away from Oyster, claiming she "wants to save the world… but not Oyster's way" (259).  Mona's altruism is perhaps symbolized in her breasts which "seem to reach out, trying to touch people with her pink nipples" (98).  In fact, some of Mona's actions resonate with Jesus Christ.  She washes Carl's feet wishing to be empathetic so as to heal him with her touch.  Helen even drinks her blood (the wine prepared as a sacrifice to The Goddess).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both Oyster and Carl react to society.  Carl wishes to turn the volume down, to thwart Big Brother.  He is perhaps subconsciously motivated to kill his upstairs neighbor because of the noise of his stereo.  Oyster's reaction to society, on the other hand, is to increase the noise.  To infiltrate society and plant Burroughsesque media viruses.  His end goal is for everyone to die, for anyone to rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Helen is opportunistic and indifferent toward society.  Mona doesn't seem concerned with the ills of society, but focuses mainly on individuals.  She exerts influence over Carl, as he admits that "Mona would have me tell the truth…  To save myself and Helen.  To reunite us with humanity" (173).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Admittedly, this simple dichotomy is not sufficient to provide a holistic reading of Palahniuk's text.  It may provide a helpful lens, however, for distinguishing his characters and wrestling with the implications of their stances toward society.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/2008/03/lullaby.html' title='Lullaby'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8846102943872901061&amp;postID=6441390388176007530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.libraryofgondal.org/halcyonflies/reviews.xml' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8846102943872901061/posts/default/6441390388176007530'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8846102943872901061/posts/default/6441390388176007530'/><author><name>Bryan Tarpley</name></author></entry></feed>