In which I review a book that was not for me on every level

The kid-lit thing is usually Alice's beat, but when The Mysterious Benedict Society was on Kindle sale for 99¢ I couldn't say no. Ironically, the first time I came across the book was when I picked it up at a Goodwill, where it was also 99¢. FATE.

I know I'm wildly inconsistent as far as warning you about spoilers, but I want to discuss some of the "secrets" of this book, so if you want to find out what's so mysterious about Benedict for yourself, you might want to skip this post.

Not THAT mysterious Benedict! (I crack myself up)

The Mysterious Benedict Society seems to have been produced for the precocious "smart kids" of elementary schools everywhere. Its heroes are a group of misunderstood gifted children with various special abilities. In a world where the vast majority of adults and children are being brainwashed via TV and (quaintly enough) radio, only clever Reynie, acrobatic Kate, stubborn Constance, and Sticky, who remembers almost everything he's ever come across, can save humanity from a mad scientist.

I liked the four members of the Society, and I thought the book did a good job of highlighting their various strengths without being too tidy about the diversity factor. I did not guess Constance's secret strength until it was revealed at the very end. The children's sad backgrounds were well-done too, I thought, and when Kate was reunited with her father I may have been a little choked up.

There was a lot about the book that felt sort of homey and classic to me; surely the "adults don't pay attention to kids or give them their due" business is about the hoariest chestnut in the box (or wherever hoary chestnuts would hang out). When I was a kid, I got to join Gifted classes (when I attended schools that had them), and our Weekly Readers always featured kids who'd done amazing things and got to meet the president or whatever. The 90s were really into celebrating overachieving kids; so much so that I actually thought I was sort of a slacker because I wasn't on track to graduate college at 16. So, personally, the idea that all adults are dumb clods who don't pay attention to kids never rang true with me; but apparently it's still going strong.

Going a little further down the "I'm an old curmudgeon" trail, I was struck by the way much of the dialogue in this book sounds like it was written for a sitcom.

"A canary in a coal mine?" Constance mumbled without looking up.
     Sticky failed to notice Reynie's warning look. "Oh yes-- miners used to bring canaries with them to gauge oxygen levels in the mine. If the canary died, they knew the oxygen was running out and they'd better get out of there."
     "If the canary died?" Constance repeated.
     Sticky looked suddenly regretful.
     "That was perhaps an unfortunate comparison," Reynie said.

"Whatever happened to asking?" Sticky said. "Whatever happened to please?"

Maybe this particular aspect only struck me because it's been all 19th century, all the time around here lately; but I stand by my reaction that this is rather ironic given that TV is one of the villains of the book.

So overall, I thought the book was fun if decidedly part of the books-for-the-smart-kids genre. But I can't say that I would whole-heartedly recommend it for any child of my acquaintance and that's because of a bewildering moral hole in the center of the story. I feel like an awful bore just writing that sentence but it must be done. I would not buy this book as a gift or recommend it to a child.

I know what you're thinking, and I do not care

 The book sort of sits on the line between sci-fi and fantasy, in that the villain uses some sort of crazy machine to broadcast subliminal messages, but only those who have an unusual love of the truth can resist them. At one point in the story, our heroes, who are embedded as spies, are instructed to cheat in order to get ahead and penetrate the secret organization faster. Reynie rightly struggles with this; he even wonders whether the message could be a fake. Later, when he has cheated and lied even further, he wonders whether he really can have such an "unusual love of the truth" after all. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop and... nothing. The kids accomplish their mission, they go home, and they're all rewarded with family reunions; cheating and lying were apparently the right things to do. On a purely functional level, it's pretty bizarre that the author would raise these (really rather thorny) moral issues and hint at how they could affect the plot in very promising ways (I was especially intrigued by the possibility that the cheating instruction could be phoney). Going further, I think it's baloney to endow "unusual love of the truth" with near-magical qualities and then write off any possible negative effects of cheating and lying on that love of the truth. "Love of the truth" therefore appears to be some kind of inherent quality, possibly linked to intelligence or possibly just genetic, and unaffected by actual actions or choices made. That's problematic for me, particularly in a book where, again, "love of the truth" is being upheld as a heroic trait.

I have one last minor quibble.

That morning, as they'd said their good-byes over breakfast, Mr Benedict had pointed out that if they said "Binnud Academy" aloud, it would remind them his thoughts were with them always.

Okay, I have said "Binnud Academy" aloud about twenty times and I don't get it. It... has... some of the same sounds as "Benedict"? If you hate me for panning this book you are welcome to go ahead and think I'm a moron now. I was also unimpressed by "Ledroptha Curtain" as a villain's name. "Let drop the curtain" is almost painfully clumsy -- the author should have just named him "Percy Glyde". Much more repellant.

Whining, procrastinating: the usual.

So! I have got to the end of Book Three! Hooray! That's exactly halfway, well done me. However, this means I am now on the edge of Book Four, which is a Frodo-and-Sam book...  hence I am typing on Blogger instead of reading, even though I only have a week (!) (!!!!) to finish this.

Does it make me a terrible person if I don't particularly like the Frodo-and-Sam part of the story? It's so dark and gross and long, and a little Gollum goes a long way. Reading Gollum's dialogue is like, I dunno, reading a Yorkshire peasant's dialogue in a Victorian novel -- jeez o pete, if this is the price we pay, do we really need to hear from this character so often? Incidentally, I feel the same way about Andy Serkis' performance in the movies. Oh sure he's a genius blah blah innovation blah, but still: a little goes a long way. Plus, I get a little tired of the modern obsession with making bad guys sympathetic. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I only tolerate eeeevil characters with black hats and capes and twirlable mustaches; and I would point out that Tolkien makes Gollum, like most of his characters, complex and ambiguous; but I hate when movies (especially) feel the need to provoke some kind of emotional "awww" moment in addition to just understanding who this person is and what they've done.

Anyway, I don't think not liking the Frodo-and-Sam part makes me terrible but it might make me shallow. Whatever dudes! I stand by my impatient desire to get back to the kings and battles and ancient civilizations and hilarious hobbit dialogue!

Too many words, have a random picture of the Bayeux Tapestry.

Maybe this time around I will appreciate the hard slog into Mordor better. Maaaybe. But look at the awesomeness you get in the other part of the story:

'They are shepherds of the trees,' answered Gandalf. 'Is it so long since you listened to tales by the fireside? There are children in your land who, out of the twisted threads of story, could pick the answer to your question. You have seen Ents, O King, Ents out of Fangorn Forest, which in your tongue you call the Entwood. Did you think that the name was given only in idle fancy? Nay, Théoden, it is otherwise: to them you are but the passing tale; all the years from Eorl the Young to Théoden the Old are of little count to them; and all the deeds of your house but a small matter.'
The king was silent. 'Ents!' he said at length. 'Out of the shadows of legend I begin to understand the marvel of the trees, I think. I have lived to see strange days. Long have we tended our beasts and our fields, built our houses, wrought our tools, or ridden away to help in the wars of Minas Tirith. And that we called the life of Men, the way of the world. We cared little for what lay beyond the borders of our land. Songs we have that tell of these things, but we are forgetting them, teaching them only to children, as a careless custom. And now the songs have come down among us out of strange places, and walk visible under the Sun.'

THIS MESSAGE BROUGHT TO YOU BY EARLY 20TH CENTURY PHILOLOGY.

Oh! I shall miss you, Théoden King, until we meet again in Book Five. Which had better be soon!

The mathom that keeps on giving

Today is JRR Tolkien's birthday! Here's a charming little 1968 BBC program about Tolkien for your viewing pleasure:



(That's a pretty free-form kind of show, isn't it? Oh the '60s.)

This is a good day for me to update you on my ongoing re-reading of The Lord of the Rings, especially since I've been thinking fondly about the ways in which Tolkien's own profession is noticeable in the text. I first started thinking about this when the hobbits reach Bree. The guests at the Prancing Pony are shocked to meet Shire hobbits so far from home and ask them what they're doing. Frodo, thinking fast, declares that he's researching a book about the hobbits who live outside the Shire, and suddenly all the patrons are eager to tell their own stories and anecdotes that they think are relevant. Ha! First of all, "I'm doing research" is a very academic sort of excuse, and secondly, I'm sure anyone who's ever been engaged in research has had the experience of people jumping in to give their own opinions and experiences with your subject. Bilbo is a quintessential researcher when they find him at Rivendell, too: pestering Frodo to contribute to his book and only concerned with the quest insofar as he might get material for a few more chapters!

This passage made me smile as well:

Terrified Pippin lay still, though the pain at his wrists and ankles was growing, and the stones beneath him were boring into his back. To take his mind off himself he listened intently to all that he could hear. There were many voices round about, and though orc-speech sounded at all times full of hate and anger, it seemed plain that something like a quarrel had begun, and was getting hotter. To Pippin's surprise he found that much of the talk was intelligible; many of the Orcs were using ordinary language. Apparently the members of two or three quite different tribes were present, and they could not understand one another's orc-speech. There was an angry debate concerning what they were to do now: which way they were to take and what should be done with the prisoners.

Obviously there's a lot that can be said about the fictional languages and the role of linguistics in Tolkien's fictional cultures, but this little vignette jumped out at me. Of course Pippin uses the unfamiliar languages as a way to distract himself from fear and pain... and look how Tolkien anticipates and solves the problem of Pippin being able to overhear a conversation among the orcs. So sweet.

I have just finished the Battle of Helms Deep, so I am just a hair over halfway done. I think... I think... I'm going to finish this by the 15th. Bold words, I know.

I'm havin' hobbits for Christmas

Christmas (or in my case, the birthday-Christmas season) is a time of excess. Personally I've spent the last couple of days baking booze cakes (yes plural, and both those recipes are delicious), drinking pumpkin spice Irish cream in my coffee, and sewing sequins onto a sweater. Ho ho ho.

The other thing I've been doing, which is in its own way excessive, is re-reading The Lord of the Rings. I passed over the three-volume hardbacks and the paperback omnibus and went right for the pleatherette Big Red One:

Uff da.

It's a nice bright festive red with shiny metallic printing, and satisfyingly hefty. Like the Ring itself, this edition is reluctant to be moved and feels especially heavy when you consider taking it with you anywhere.

Having just watched the Peter Jackson trilogy with Alice, the movies are fresh in my mind --

Break to gush over the Hobbit trailer: SQUEEEE! Martin Freeman was born to play Arthur Dent, Dr. Watson, and Bilbo Baggins, so thank you world for making these happen.

-- certainly much fresher than the books. I have a horrible memory; in fact I think when I saw Two Towers and Return of the King in theaters I had pretty much forgotten the respective books already. The movies are "big" visually, but the books feel "big" in time. What I mean is, the art direction and the use of New Zealand's geography makes it seem like the movies were shot in a real continent-sized place; and while the books certainly have that complete world in them, what strikes me first and most immediately is that there are thousands of years present in and behind the story. Even on a smaller scale, I've just gotten up to the arrival in Rivendell and already years have passed in the main plot. And of course the events of The Hobbit are directly involved as well.

I'm trying to pay better attention to the poems and songs -- as my experiences with AS Byatt will attest, I have a tendency to gloss over this kind of thing to get back to the plot as soon as possible. Aside from your feelings about poetry, I guess you have to like spending time with the characters in order to appreciate this kind of literature within literature. After all, in this case at least, the poems are the characters' way of expressing and enjoying themselves.

Being (hopefully) (sort of) older and wiser since the last/first time I read LOTR, another thing that strikes me is that the characters are very much adults. Frodo is out of his "tweens" almost right out the gate, and the other characters (at least so far) are mature if not actually old. Of course there's an element of growing up, learning, gaining experience to the quest, but it's not a coming-of-age story. It seems even sort of Tolkien-esque to say that the characters' lives to this point have been a kind of preparation for this quest in a broad destiny sort of way.

This frivolous image is your reward for reading this far.

 Anyhow, I am plugging along and hopefully will have more and better thoughts to share with you over the next few weeks. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

Friday bonus post!

Do not click on this image. Thumbnail for decorative purposes only. You must click on the link below to access the image in a readable size.

 Here is the most super-fantastic sci-fi/fantasy flowchart. It's so good. In high school, sf/f was my genre of choice, and I would totally have wanted this as a poster (I might still). Even if you're not into it, you'll like this because it's that very best of internet things, a Sassy Flowchart. Here's my favorite bit:

"I shall require at least ten" -- guilty as charged.