A pleasure as always to return to a story that I think has been with me my whole life. Discussing it iThe Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe—2024 reread
A pleasure as always to return to a story that I think has been with me my whole life. Discussing it in class for a couple hours was wonderful—particularly trying to find a clear way of distinguishing allegory (which this book isn't) from archetypes (which this book makes extravagant use of). Reading this shortly after looking at An Experiment in Criticism and Tolkien's "On Fairy-stories" brings out a lot of connections that the book on its own might not.
Prince Caspian: The Return to Narnia—2024 reread
Points taken away from this collected volume for not including the subtitle of this book (and of course, points already removed for the publisher's insistence that Narnia be arranged by story chronology rather than original publication order).
The Pevensies' return to Narnia begins intensely. Right from the start, this adventure conveys a different tone, since in the first book, the children seem to have some choice about entering Narnia—the wardrobe portal isn't always open, but when it is, the children have to take the action of stepping inside and pushing through the coats—whereas in the second book, Narnia grabs hold of them and pulls them forcibly in. Prince Caspian also suggests that possibility that a Pevensie could die in Narnia, leaving as mystery what would become of them in their own world should that occur. Where The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe felt almost inevitable and "safe," the sequel renders Narnian adventures more dangerous.
Since discussing this in class this week, I've continued to think about one discussion point in particular: nostalgia. Prince Caspian presents the Pevensies with a heavy weight of nostalgia as soon as they discover where they are and what has happened since they last visited Narnia. The temptation for the siblings, or for any of us in their place, would be to grasp onto the "good old days" of that nostalgia, trying to recreate the era in which they ruled and establish a new order that suits them. Instead, Lewis shows them quickly comprehending the current situation and selflessly making way for the new age to flourish in the way it should—including releasing power and authority to Caspian. This is different from a Kylo Ren posture of "Let the past die; kill it if you have to," because Lewis isn't saying to entirely discard the past, but only to set it free to do what it is meant to, without letting it wrongly ensnare your heart. This strikes me as a wonderful, challenging lesson for any book, let alone what seems to be a children's fantasy adventure. May we all, like the Pevensies, have a proper regard for the past as we release the present and future to be what God wills.
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader—2024 reread
One of the best class discussions I've had. I found a question to open this conversation that brought out elements of the book that none of us had considered before. It was so fruitful and intriguing, I'm going to save it all for an article I hope to write soon. There is so much to ponder in this story....more
The end of the High Republic, Phase 2! Quest for Planet X is one of the better volumes in the series, so it’s a great place to end. This novel has theThe end of the High Republic, Phase 2! Quest for Planet X is one of the better volumes in the series, so it’s a great place to end. This novel has the most resonance with the depth of The Acolyte, giving characters space for different ways of processing trauma and grief. I enjoyed the story that didn’t depend on battle scenes or deep connections to the bigger story of Phase 2. Instead, the characters spend most of their time on their own, pursuing a single goal of locating Planet X (though really, if the book’s title is Quest for Planet X, it seems reasonable to expect that Planet X will make an appearance, especially as so many questions about it remain). Rooper Nitani proves much, much more interesting than other padawans in the series (Matty Cathley being the very worst). Tessa Gratton writes her as realistically teenaged in her perception of situations, but also with the burgeoning wisdom one would expect of a padawan who has studied for so many years already. Her mentor–student relationship with Silandra makes sense, and I wouldn’t mind more stories about them.
I genuinely didn’t expect the father of the children born on Dalna at the very beginning of this series (Path of Deceit) to return as a main character at the very end, but it actually works perfectly. In Fel Ix, we see someone who believed in the Path as a benevolent force for good in the galaxy, but who then learns of its deception, escapes the violence of the Path’s revealed terrorism, and endures to survive after the Path, having gained a truer appreciation of the Jedi and the Force. After several books featuring mindless violence from the Path and brainless naivete from the Jedi, this story, with a thoughtful Jedi and a truly compassionate Path member, brings appropriate closure. It suggests that peace and understanding are still possible. That hasn’t been the case throughout most of Phase 2, with all of its manufactured conflicts.
Having now read everything in Phase 2, what worked and what failed? What worked best is the central idea that another community would question the Jedi’s understanding and dominance of the Force. At its best, Phase 2 pondered the philosophy underlying Star Wars, probing the phrase “Use the Force.”
The other great success of the series is its various roles for the Jedi in a time when the galaxy was not yet fully connected. I like the idea of the Pathfinder teams, and also of the Wayfinder Jedi. We only see Pathfinders in the first book, Quest for the Hidden City, and the more isolated Jedi, separate from the bigger story, only feature in The Blade. But there’s room for much more storytelling about those aspects of the era. I like the concept of removing guaranteed communication from a Star Wars story, and then seeing what happens when characters can’t know what other characters are doing, or even whether they’re on the same planet.
What I didn’t like about Phase 2 is the generic war between Eiram and E’ronoh. It’s a “Forever War” that has lasted for just five years, and I never cared at all about it, nor did I understand why anyone in the galaxy would, or why the Path chose to stoke this particular conflict in order to draw the Jedi to Dalna. It seems a very complex and bizarre plan.
I also disliked how little time we had to engage with the Path on a philosophical level before they were revealed to be dull terrorists. I would have loved for the Path to be presented as a viable alternative to the Jedi for half the series before their other motives were revealed. The ultimate revelation, that everything was done simply because the Mother was rejected by the Jedi when she was a child, rang entirely hollow. What was intended as the climax of the series instead became the biggest eye roll in a series with a great number of eye rolls. The Path should have been an intriguing new aspect of Star Wars, but it didn’t turn out that way at all.
Another problem is the large number of characters introduced in relatively few books. I barely care about the Jedi ever, but when the series gives us an infinite number of them, all more or less the same, and then expects that I’ll remember specific individuals several books later, I say no. If I’m reading these books all right in a row, I shouldn’t have to look up characters in Wookieepedia very often. Of the Jedi introduced in this series, Silandra becomes the one that people will remember, and I hope she’ll appear in more stories after this.
The unanswered or unresolved questions leave me with a disappointed feeling after finishing Phase 2. Can the Jedi really not have continued investigating the leveler creatures (presumably they could find the remains of the creatures who drowned in the caves of Dalna)? Would Planet X remain hidden? Why didn’t we learn anything about the other Force communities in the Jedha convocation? Why did Marda Ro change in the ways she did throughout the series? Such questions give the series an unsatisfying, bland feeling—difficult to invest any more imagination into the characters and events, and so I’m likely to quickly forget most of the details.
Phase 2 was not nearly as grand and wonderful as The Acolyte, but I saw glimpses of elements that could become a story like that. I continue to mourn the end of The Acolyte, and I hope that story will continue on film someday. The High Republic books are no substitute....more
This graphic novel ties together loose ends from Quest for the Hidden City and Path of Vengeance. I actually didn’t realize that these loose ends exisThis graphic novel ties together loose ends from Quest for the Hidden City and Path of Vengeance. I actually didn’t realize that these loose ends existed or would be brought together in another book, so I had no expectations for what happened in this book. It’s fine as a Phase 2 High Republic standalone, but it’s really just “stuck on a spaceship / evil monsters hatching out of eggs” story, so it’s Alien with Jedi characters. Nothing particularly memorable. It raises the possibility that Geth will reconnect with Shea at some point, but since this is the end of the series, we won’t see that happen anyway, so it feels like an odd plot thread to include....more
Rereading The Great Divorce once a year in preparation for teaching it in a course on Lewis and Tolkien will always be pure delight. Through fiction, Rereading The Great Divorce once a year in preparation for teaching it in a course on Lewis and Tolkien will always be pure delight. Through fiction, Lewis raises questions of theology and life that would perhaps be merely academic in the context of his nonfiction apologetics writing. Here, though, every dialogue hits deeply. I always enjoy teaching this book, because students who have not read it before struggle to find a place for it. Many find themselves initially preoccupied with questions such as, What is Lewis saying theologically about heaven and hell, and the eternal state of the soul after death? But then we discover that Lewis intends less about the mechanics of what happens after we die and much more about the choices we make while we live. The gradual change from "grumbling" to being "a grumble," for example, is not something we have to wait until the afterlife to determine; we can live in such a way right now that we are in no danger of such a transformation. May we all awake from the dream of this book to find the fireplace blazing, hopeful that we have time to correct wrong choice and habits and find our way to the "infinite happiness" that we're born for....more
This more-or-less final volume in the Phase 2 of the High Republic (a few more books come after this, but Path of Vengeance basically concludes the maThis more-or-less final volume in the Phase 2 of the High Republic (a few more books come after this, but Path of Vengeance basically concludes the main storyline) brings some interesting story elements to the series—but then it falters badly at the end. Like so many books in this series, Path of Vengeance returns to events that have already taken place and gives a different perspective on them. I have mostly been annoyed by this technique in the series, because it has felt (especially in the Battle of Jedha arc) like one story broken up across multiple books. In this case, however, the tactic works pretty well. The first time through the battle on Dalna, in Cataclysm, didn’t feel incomplete, and now Path of Vengeance fills in some gaps—especially, what Yana and Marda did during these events, which was the one element that did seem missing from Cataclysm.
I liked the changes to Yana’s character throughout this story (when she wasn’t moping about Kor), and the idea of a race in Star Wars that sees the people who have died because of them intrigues me. I’m not sure if we’ll see this again, but it’s a detail worth spending more time with in another story.
Marda’s character changes, however . . . Her motivations often seem like baffling nonsense. She has confronted the two-facedness of the Path and the Mother previously and again in this book, and so her fully radicalized takeover when she returns to Dalna from Planet X doesn’t feel correct at all. Again and again, the authors of this series have taken what might have been an interesting philosophical critique of the Jedi and other cults in Star Wars, and instead turned it into a quick, same-old action movie. It’s especially frustrating when The Acolyte, which really did create a grown-up, full-reckoning look at Star Wars mythology, has been canceled, but these throwaway books keep coming.
Worse than Marda’s characterization is the Big Reveal at the end. We learn that Oliviah Zeveron, some random Jedi who hasn’t seemed important at all up to this point (and is also one of many Star Wars characters who has been run through with a lightsaber but quickly recovered, no worse for the wear), is the sister of the Mother of the Path, and this whole plot in all these books was just a lame “I’m so upset the Jedi chose my sister instead of me, so now I’ll take it out on everyone in the galaxy” story. Plot devices like this continue to keep Star Wars storytelling at the most basic, worthless level. The motivation of many of the females in this series comes from emotional responses to feeling jilted by a lover or a community. It all feels so insulting.
Three more (short, thankfully!) books to complete Phase 2, and then I’ll look back at elements that would be worth bringing into film, and places where the series went wrong.
Final notes:
--Matty Cathley has to be one of the most obnoxious Star Wars characters ever. I can’t believe she survived to the end of the book. What exactly do Jedi padawans learn?
--Star Wars authors need to be much more careful about bringing current slang into their books. Reading a character referred to as a “badass” doesn’t work at all in Star Wars.
--I love it when Star Wars draws on tropes from sci-fi and horror, but these authors need to stay far, far away from romance. It almost never works well in Star Wars, and the too-frequent moments that it shows up in Phase 2 books are entirely cringey and awful. This series would have been much better without romance, especially when failed romance provides the primary motivation for female characters to become evil....more
The book: a classic every time. I always see something new in it, and I always feel sad when it ends.
This edition: This is my first time reading the rThe book: a classic every time. I always see something new in it, and I always feel sad when it ends.
This edition: This is my first time reading the recent "Illustrated by the Author" hardcover edition. I'd read the Tolkien-illustrated Lord of the Rings edition, which was published earlier, and that one was a bit odd because Tolkien didn't actually complete a lot of illustrations for LOTR. For The Hobbit, however, he created numerous illustrations in various styles, originally intended for inclusion with the first edition. Those illustrations are reproduced here in the appropriate chapters, and they're beautiful. The printing conveys rich colors, and some of the illustrations look as good as I've ever seen them. Other touches with this edition include green text for chapter titles and song lyrics; a wonderful dust jacket with spot glossing and foil stamping; and great illustrations on the spine and cover of the book itself. This edition is now my favorite reading edition (when I want just the story and don't need the extra notes in The Annotated Hobbit)....more
Cataclysm is the longest novel of the High Republic Phase 2, and written in the clumsy, inelegant style of most Star Wars books, but it also features Cataclysm is the longest novel of the High Republic Phase 2, and written in the clumsy, inelegant style of most Star Wars books, but it also features the most focused, complete story. Where the Battle of Jedha story required tracking down its various bits and pieces across graphic novels, kids’ books, and an audio drama, Cataclysm manages to keep track of all its characters and events in just one book. What a concept. It also brings more intensity and intrigue to an ongoing story that tends to be all over the place.
In this book, the Jedi continue to be stupid—it’s basically the defining character trait of the Jedi, regardless of era—so I felt no particular sadness whenever any of them became one with the Force (and I actively wanted an obnoxious little-kid Jedi to meet a leveler as soon as possible). And the Republic is also blind to common sense, with one character even saying, early in the novel, “Hey, maybe we shouldn’t have tried to sign the E’ronoh/Eiram peace treaty on a random, unrelated planet with two red-shirt ambassadors; maybe we should have held the signing on the neutral moon that exists between the two planets, and made sure to invite the royal couple who just married to bring about peace.” You think? Double facepalm.
In Cataclysm, the Path of the Open Hand has become outright terrorists bent on bringing about chaos and the end of the Jedi Order. (Yes, this whole High Republic series is pretty much just The Phantom Menace again.) Any hint of interest in their philosophical perspective is gone. Now they command an army of battle droids and they enter every scene cackling evilly. I do still think back to their introduction in Path of Deceit, however, and I wonder how this fringe community went from a peaceful religious commune to every member willing to take up arms and destroy Jedi. Was Marda Ro the only one who didn’t understand what was going on? It’s hard to know, because even though it seemed like she was going to be a major character, she has barely appeared since that first novel. Apparently, that was her big moment, and now she’s sitting around somewhere else, or maybe she left the Path altogether. I don’t know. Yana also seemed to be destined for something more, but even though the levelers appeared in this novel, Yana was nowhere to be seen. I wish Path of Deceit hadn’t set this group and these characters up for an arc that definitely was not going to happen. As terrorists, the Path don’t interest me very much. I also don’t understand how nobody can have attempted to kill one of the levelers yet.
Anyway, the element in the story that I most enjoyed is the idea that communication is not a given in this era of Star Wars. Changing this one small detail in the way SW typically functions alters the way any storyline can go. In this case, it leads to multiple Jedi traveling to Dalna, each group unaware that all the others are headed to the same place. It sounds corny, but in the story it works perfectly. In the same way that I enjoy SW when it draws on horror tropes, I also wish it would take more from sci-fi that changes one small detail of “normal life” and then lets the story play out as it will. It’s strange how rarely SW has done that, instead repeating similar stories over and over.
I liked the conclusion of the story, and I even found Axel’s ending satisfying (not that I want him to appear in any more stories). I would be interested in Gella’s continuing story as she takes up the role of Wayseeker. I’m not at all interested in more stories about E’ronoh and Eiram, as that subplot never drew me in....more
I actually think this one is pretty good. I'm sorry to say "actually," but overall I haven't thought very highly of the High Republic books (even the I actually think this one is pretty good. I'm sorry to say "actually," but overall I haven't thought very highly of the High Republic books (even the first volume of this graphic novel series). In this book, Cavan Scott keeps the focus on a small number of characters, and the conflict proves to be not merely the fighting on Jedha but also past trauma the protagonist struggles with, which works itself out through a spooky encounter with a Sith artifact and the herald of the Path of the Open Hand. (I think Star Wars works well when it incorporates some elements of horror, and that's the case here.) The comic characters play their parts in the right way (and even Tey becomes quite charming in his incessant talking), but generally the theme in this story is facing fear and tragedy.
My only complaint is that certain moments in this story seem so important to the bigger Phase 2 story that I don't think they should be relegated to a graphic novel series. The Battle of Jedha doesn't resolve what happened to the herald and the leveler, and even at the time, I thought that was an odd omission. I'm glad I know that part of the story now, but why split everything up? Star Wars needs to trust that it's creating good stories, and simply tell the stories. No more gimmicks....more
Another graphic novel about events that happen at exactly the same time as the Battle of Jedha story. Because it doesn't stand on its own, there are pAnother graphic novel about events that happen at exactly the same time as the Battle of Jedha story. Because it doesn't stand on its own, there are panels that would be very confusing without reading or listening to the rest of the story (when Silandra Sho appears in one panel, for example, in a way that looks significant but without any explanation).
As far as this story on its own, I found it odd that Therm's character arc is that he needs to learn how to give in to his desire to run amok and kill as many foes as possible. The lesson Sav learns by the end is . . . fine, I guess. Nothing in the book seems particularly memorable....more
The High Republic is such a weird idea. I don't understand who thought it would be great to tell a story that can't be fully known unless you read an The High Republic is such a weird idea. I don't understand who thought it would be great to tell a story that can't be fully known unless you read an infinity of kids' books, YA novels, novels for adults, two levels of graphic novel, and audio dramas. So far in Phase 2, the only book I've found interesting on its own is the graphic novel called The Blade—ironically, the one book that has no particular connection to the bigger story the series is telling.
Anyway, the events of this graphic novel take place just before and during the battle of Jedha—which, yes, means it makes most sense to read this book at the same time as you're listening to the audio drama The Battle of Jedha. This book contains interchangeable Jedi masters and padawans and random side characters. As in other books in this series, we see that the galaxy is crowded with various kinds of Force users, and the Jedi seem to be the most despised and mistrusted. Why? Who knows. The holy city of Jedha is full of bickering factions and pettiness even before the battle begins. Why? Who knows. The book seems to want to tell a particular story—the trauma one of the interchangeable Jedi lived through as a child and still struggles with, and the mysterious motives of a former guardian of the Whills—but by the end it has to be drawn into the battle of Jedha storyline, with a lot of explosions and riots and so forth. Oh, for a complete story in one book....more
In this part of the High Republic Phase 2 story, the incredible naivety and poor planning of the Jedi and the Republic bring disaster to Jedha, a neutIn this part of the High Republic Phase 2 story, the incredible naivety and poor planning of the Jedi and the Republic bring disaster to Jedha, a neutral planet that had nothing to do with the conflict between Eiram and E'ronoh. In previous books, we learned about those two planets and their five-year-long "forever war." Royals from each planet married in a gesture that no one in their right mind could believe was going to lead to real peace. And then, to add to the absurdity of the situation, the signing of the peace treaty didn't happen right after the cease-fire, but some time later, and not on either of the planets involved (or, as would seem to have made some sense, on the moon situated between them), but on some other planet (Jedha)—and the prince and princess couldn't be bothered to attend the signing themselves, so they sent ambassadors to take care of it. None of this makes sense to me. The ambassadors arrive at Jedha with troop transports full of soldiers and ordnance, and only the Jedi, dim-witted as they typically are, could be surprised when, a few days later, all-out war breaks out on the planet.
All of this, of course, has been manipulated by the mustache-twirling melodramatic villains, the Path of the Open Hand. It's hard to believe that their goal in encouraging war between Eiram and E'ronoh was to discredit the Jedi, but that seems to be the case. The timeline of Phase 2 feels awkward—when we first encounter the Path, they seem to be a fringe cult with a small handful of members who visit planets to proselytize residents and steal stuff. They had just barely set out in their new spaceship to travel the galaxy as a community. And now in The Battle of Jedha, they've established themselves on Jedha and seem to be well-known by everyone, as if they've been a religion for a long time. I don't know how this fits together.
Despite the ridiculousness of the main plot, and despite the fact that the "show, don't tell" dictum finds no place in the cliched writing, the book actually includes a few intriguing scenes. I liked a couple of the conversations between the Mother and the Jedi, as it hints at how someone could logically argue against the Jedi cult. The way members of the Path stoke the fires of discontent and revenge amongst the inhabitants of Jedha, and the way they can turn all that against the Jedi felt realistic (though, to be fair, the Jedi always seem really shady, so casting suspicions on them is hardly the most challenging end to accomplish). I also enjoyed the fate of Keth, and how we see his example become the kind of story he longed to be part of.
The best part of the book is Keth's kitbashed ceremonial droid, P-3. A droid that can only speak in proverbs and platitudes—that was a brilliant idea in a galaxy that has become crowded with a few types of droids. I only wish that the first part of the story hadn't thrown such suspicion on P-3 for involvement in a bombing, because I felt for a long time after that that the droid did have something to do with it. I would have enjoyed P-3's moments more if I'd realized that it's supposed to be a likeable character and we're not supposed to doubt it. I doubt that droid will show up again, and I wished at the end that it had gone off with a character more likely to be recurring.
The Jedha story was told across a few graphic novels, in addition to this audio drama. I wish the High Republic would just tell a continuous story in one book, rather than dividing everything over so many other books. It's a difficult way to engage with a story, and I think this one would have been much improved by being brought together as one volume in one medium.
I know the Eiram and E'ronoh plot is not yet resolved, but I wouldn't mind if the series drops it entirely at this point and moves on to something else. How can two planets in a five-year war on the outskirts of the galaxy matter to anyone else? It's unbelievable how many times a character in this story affirms that the signing of the peace treaty will be a "momentous" occasion; I feel like the word "momentous" is spoken fifty times. So many books into this series, I feel no investment or interest in this primary plot point. The obvious resonances with the prequel trilogy don't add much except frequently reminding me of how such-and-such a scene is just like something in the prequels. The Acolyte did all of this really well; these books, on the other hand, limp along, occasionally hinting at ways they might be much more intriguing....more
This graphic novel seems like the result of a dare: "Make up a Star Wars story about a team-up that involves mostly characters people have never heardThis graphic novel seems like the result of a dare: "Make up a Star Wars story about a team-up that involves mostly characters people have never heard of, but also Maz Kanata and Dexter Jettster." Daniel José Older took that dare and created a book that I'd forgotten as I finished the last pages. Though Star Wars aliens populate every page, the story feels strangely nondescript. These could be any characters in any universe. The "adventures" of the title get off to a somewhat confusing start, and then the story ends just as they seem to be getting somewhere. This represents the problem of High Republic storytelling overall: No single part of it is complete in itself but only leads to the next part. You can only know the full story by laboriously reading every unsatisfying piece. And yet, this series goes on and on and on, whereas The Acolyte was cancelled after one really excellent season. I digress....more
This is by far my favorite book in the High Republic Phase 2 so far. I liked some of the ideas in Path of Deceit, and The Blade engages with a differeThis is by far my favorite book in the High Republic Phase 2 so far. I liked some of the ideas in Path of Deceit, and The Blade engages with a different set of interesting ideas. The Blade feels the most like The Acolyte, which I love. Specifically, this story gives the origin of the Barash Vow that Torbin takes in The Acolyte. But more than that, the overall tone of this story and the issues the two Jedi knights wrestle with would be very at home in The Acolyte, or as an episode in Visions.
Throughout the story, Charles Soule's writing remains very subtle, generally avoiding cliche and excess. The steady reveal of lies upon lies behind the walls of Firevale reach near-comedic level, and I think the story acknowledges that appropriately. Because I disliked Convergence, I loved the way this story mildly pokes fun at the "fairy tale romance" ending generations of war.
The main themes of this book are the question of the Jedi's authority—What right do they have to swoop in a colonialist saviors and arbitrate in conflicts they know nothing about?—and the prohibition on attachment between Jedi knights. Both of these themes allow deeper exploration of the Star Wars mythology, allowing it to mature and consider grey-area viewpoints on right and wrong (and who decides which is which). Good stuff all throughout. I hope other Phase 2 graphic novels will follow this path....more
Returning to Thomas Hardy after a lot of years away has been pure delight. His fondness for unexpected turns of phrase (Hardy enthusiastically contribReturning to Thomas Hardy after a lot of years away has been pure delight. His fondness for unexpected turns of phrase (Hardy enthusiastically contributed dialect suggestions to the project that would become the Oxford English Dictionary) would be worth reading even if the narrative provided nothing more of interest. But, of course, the narrative is continually fascinating. Like Tess of the D’Urbervilles, one of the most notoriously cynical novels ever written, The Woodlanders puts its characters through a lot. But I found humor and hope in these pages, sometimes through the words chosen to portray certain elements of the story, and sometimes through choices and plot turns that surprised me.
In the first half of the novel, I enjoyed the wordplay but found the story itself less engaging. Characters make obviously horrible choices, and the horrible consequences become inevitable. So far, so much like many other books. But then in the second half, the story comes off the rails in ways I didn’t expect. Narrative events that seemed assured—Felice noticing Giles’s hardship and helping him toward a home of his own, for example, which the story clearly signals at one point—failed to materialize. A couple deaths late in the book turned the surviving characters in different directions. A reader’s general anticipation of wrong choices being undone and better prospects realized goes for the most part unrewarded. Through all of this, Hardy plays with contrasting expectations of traditional rural community life and modern sensibilities. He teases us to want some things that end up not being the right ending for his characters. The surprising turns in the final quarter of the novel made me love the whole thing very much.
I know a cynical reading of the ending is not only possible but is probably Hardy’s own view. Yes, Fitzpiers will likely continue to act out, and Grace will again and again confront the choice of whether to receive him back. As I read the final pages, however, I found hope in the possibility of reconciliation. I don’t believe Grace diminished herself in returning to Fitzpiers; rather, she overcame the temptation that had drawn so near, to take on his own belief that satisfying the self takes precedence over any other commitments. Grace’s surprisingly modern stance toward much of what harms her throughout the story likely indicates the influences she acquired during her education—an education which also taught her to view herself from a distance, as an outsider. A modern perspective would see detachment from tradition and responsibility as a profitable move, but we experience through other “outsider” characters how that leads to despair, sometimes even at a melodramatic level. Grace’s triumph over that temptation toward self-centeredness demonstrates an inner strength that she has not always exhibited. I imagine she’ll be okay after the novel’s part of her story, though I don’t pretend it will be a glib, fairy-tale “happily ever after.”...more
We watched an interview with Andrea Small in our office meeting last week, and now we’re reading the book and discussing. For a marketing and communicWe watched an interview with Andrea Small in our office meeting last week, and now we’re reading the book and discussing. For a marketing and communications team, this book has a lot of great points for refocusing and thinking through together. Our team often talks about stepping into chaos and igniting shalom, and this book works right along with that, while also helping us question what it is that we’re aiming for when we seek shalom in our work with all our clients.
The authors suggest a difference between ambiguity and uncertainty. In uncertainty, we know there must be an answer, and so we either try to find it or wait for it to reveal itself. But in ambiguity, “there’s no singular, correct answer” (22). Facing ambiguity, we respond with one of three attitudes: endure (wait for the ambiguity to end), engage (face it head-on, but like a thrill-seeker, just for a limited time before returning to “normal”), or embrace (viewing ambiguity as a tool to draw on at any time).
(Though the book focuses on the usefulness of embracing ambiguity, it also acknowledges the possibility of unhealthy ambiguity, such as when politicians make use of fear to motivate people toward certain decisions, or when a bad boss deliberately obscures in order to maintain power over his workers. That’s not the kind of ambiguity the authors celebrate here.)
As we consider healthy ambiguity, we find two axes that influence our ability to embrace it: acting (taking purposeful initiative) and adapting (flexing to changing conditions). “The more you can act and adapt (individually or as a team), the greater your ability to face the unknown with confidence” (59). Having finished the book, this is the point that I continue to think about, and I believe it may prove very useful for our team.
The last part of the book explains five sets of dynamic continua, tools to help determine the best response to ambiguity in a particular situation (because, ambiguity being as it is, there is no one-size-fits-all approach to dealing with it).
Look in | Look out Speed up | Slow down Focus | Unfocus Follow the course | Create your own path Zoom in | Zoom out
The distinctions between each of the balances sometimes seem blurry, but taken all together, I think they will become helpful.
The book itself is, as one would expect of a book from a prestigious design school, very, very designed. Its cleverness almost makes it more of a gift book than a book to ponder and study. At first, I was put off by the tone, which is much more web-like than book-like. After a while, I got over that and found the good points in amongst the sometimes distracting visual cleverness. Just know that if you have interest in the topic of ambiguity in creative work and you order this book, you may find it almost gimmicky and less substantial than you expected (I read it easily in one sitting). Stick with it, and you’ll enjoy the good thinking along the way....more
It’s not easy for me to write this review. During the week that I listened to the audiobook of Convergence, I heard the news of the cancelation of TheIt’s not easy for me to write this review. During the week that I listened to the audiobook of Convergence, I heard the news of the cancelation of The Acolyte. And then I looked at various forums online in the days that followed as many extremely vocal people (with, apparently, significant spare time) who celebrated the cancelation with the most spiteful, hateful, unintelligent comments I’ve yet read about Star Wars, or any other story. Many of these commenters openly admitted not having watched the series, and a lot of the comments brought further confusion to what exactly the word “woke” means in any given context. It seems to now mean basically “bad,” though with an unreflective and intentionally hurtful connotation. I’m weary of it—the word, the obsessions with bringing uninformed commentary to discussions that ought to focus on a story, and, most of all, the sense that Star Wars will never grow up and push beyond its simplistic limitations. The Acolyte brought so much depth to SW, a meditation on aspects of the story that have not yet been explored—different responses to trauma, the ongoing effects of unconfessed sin, the question of who wields the authority to determine the categories of the galaxy and its denizens, the shifting definitions of those categories, the desire to be creative (and procreative) amidst many challenges in society, the complexities of doing good to those around you when you’re placed in a situation you don’t fully understand, the meanings of peace and justice . . . The list goes on and on. A Star Wars series brought up all of those themes and let them play out through shifting perspectives that change with each viewing, all set against a beautiful musical score by Michael Abels that brings every era of Star Wars music together in an engaging way.
That’s the series that has been canceled.
Some fans call for it to be entirely removed from the canon of SW—for reasons that include “the series makes the Jedi look like the villains.” We’re talking about a story that began with a couple of elderly Jedi trying to convince a teenager to murder his father so they can continue to hide the past failures of the Jedi, right? A story that then moved to prequels in which a “wise” teacher said to one of his students, “Your best friend made some big mistakes. Please go kill him”? The Jedi have never been fully “the good guys,” and a reckoning is essential. The Acolyte faced all that with depth and intelligence. With that series canceled, will this mythology ever mature? If not, then I’m done with SW—but I still want to believe it can grow in ways that The Acolyte started leading toward.
With all that in my thinking, I listened to Convergence, the third book in Phase 2 of the High Republic era. I wouldn’t have enjoyed this novel anyway, but in these circumstances, it really frustrated me. It takes some of the elements of the previous book, Path of Deceit, and renders them bland and cliché. Path of Deceit introduced the Path of the Open Hand, which gave an intriguing new perspective on the Force, as a challenge to the Jedi’s way of thinking. It didn’t last—by the end of that book, the Path had been revealed as much less intriguing than I’d hoped. But when they appear in Convergence, they’ve become nothing more than a gang of thugs and pirates, wreaking havoc for no particular reason. Why are they involved in the war between these two planets? No explanation.
Speaking of the two planets . . . as the novel opens, they are locked in a “forever war,” which apparently has been raging for . . . five years? I can’t understand why anyone in the galaxy cares that these two planets have been bickering with each other recently. This is a galaxy we’re talking about—presumably, thousands and thousands of planets. I don’t see the urgency of this particular story.
The setup for the novel is fine, but then the second half moves through a tedious series of loosely connected side quests (I sometimes lost track of who was where and why it mattered) and unsurprising double-crosses. Then it ended.
The audiobook made the story more challenging to endure than it might have been otherwise. The reader, Marc Thompson, gives the most distractingly over-the-top corny performance I've heard in an audiobook. And all of that was supported by repetitive sound effects and musical cues from other Star Wars movies that made me think of the scenes the music was written for instead of the story being read.
As I said, I can’t look at this novel objectively, because I’m feeling so frustrated with Star Wars storytelling and “fans” right now. But I find it odd that of the first three novels of Phase 2, one is intended for young readers, one for young adults, and this one for adults. But Convergence really seems to be the most childish of the three. Path of Deceit, were it free of the awful teeny romance stuff, would have been by far the most grown-up book of the three. I’ll continue through Phase 2, but three books in, I’m already feeling the same way I felt about what I read of Phase 1, and what I’ve read of SW books generally. Lots of potential, but quickly overwhelmed by cliché and franchise plot requirements. “I know I’m better than this,” Anakin says in Attack of the Clones, perhaps speaking for Star Wars itself....more
Before diving into Phase 2 of the High Republic series, I consulted a number of sites that provide lists of the proper reading order. All the sites agBefore diving into Phase 2 of the High Republic series, I consulted a number of sites that provide lists of the proper reading order. All the sites agree on the first three books: Path of Deceit, Quest for the Hidden City, and Convergence. But they don’t agree on the correct order of those three. I read Quest for the Hidden City first, and I think that was a fine choice (even though its ending seems to spoil a major event that happens in Convergence; why would the author do that?). It was a decent book introducing the work of the Pathfinder Jedi, which suggests potentially interesting directions for this series.
Now I’ve read (listened to) Path of Deceit, and I’m still more intrigued at what’s to come for Phase 2. This book introduces the Path of the Open Hand, a Force-focused community that will become adversaries for the Jedi. Where The Acolyte took the original trilogy line “from a certain point of view” as its central point for meditation and reflection, the Path represents a group that offers reflection on the line “use the Force.” Members of the Path’s community preach that “the Force will be free,” and they view the Jedi and others who use the Force as exerting an unnatural influence on the galaxy. The Force, they claim, cannot be used for good by the Jedi without an equal and opposite influence for evil reacting elsewhere in the galaxy. The Path wants to understand the Force by following its guidance but not harnessing its power for one’s own choice of application.
Throughout the novel, characters on either side of that understanding of the Force discuss and debate, and for a YA-level Star Wars novel, the philosophical assumptions run surprisingly deep. It’s easy to understand either side, and I like the way these conversations could cause the reader to question whether the Jedi might be wrong.
However . . . the authors make, in my opinion, an unfortunate misstep by revealing almost from the beginning that the Path is deceptive, if not outright insidious. What could have been a book-length exploration of a different way to understand the Force, giving the reader time to ponder that before moving the plot to the next required step, becomes too clear too quickly. It’s a disservice to Marda’s sincere faith that we know all along how naïve and deceived she is. Still, this novel portrays better character arcs than a lot of SW books I’ve read (though some big character changes at the end of the story seem far too quick).
That’s what like about Path of Deceit (along with some excellent scenes of horror near the end, with a creature that reveals itself to be like a more horrendous version of the old ysalamiri from the old Expanded Universe). What I don’t like are the relentless and awful subplots of teeny romance. Especially in the audiobook, the reader (who otherwise gives an excellent performance) plays a couple of the characters to sound like they’re about eight years old. So when they meet and instantly begin to burn with passion for each other, it feels really weird. (Also, do Jedi not understand that teenagers of apparently multiple species are going to struggle with the unattachment and celibacy aspect of the Jedi Order?) All scenes of teen romance were uniformly terrible. With the interesting philosophical discussions in the book, I wish the characters had been grown-ups, or at least teens who were more grown up and less after each other all the time. For that reason, it’s a hard book for me to recommend. Select discussions about the true nature of the Force and characters’ relationships to it are highly recommended, however. And I do look forward to what will happen next, now that the Path has set out in space. I hope the too-quick plot motion of this book doesn’t preclude continued interesting discussions about the Force through the rest of the series....more
I’d read several of the Phase 1 High Republic books as they were published, and I didn’t enjoy them. After really loving The Acolyte, I decided to tryI’d read several of the Phase 1 High Republic books as they were published, and I didn’t enjoy them. After really loving The Acolyte, I decided to try the Phase 2 books. This first one, Quest for the Hidden City, is not the worst Star Wars book I’ve read, but that doesn’t mean it’s an amazing book. Like a number of other Star Wars stories recently, it begins to introduce elements of (lite) horror, with one species undergoing a rather horrifying, if entirely nonsensical, transformation. There was the possibility of making this into more of an Alien kind of story, but the author didn’t take it that far.
Because the story is almost entirely planet-bound, it feels overall much more like Trek than Wars. (Also, we’re told a number of times that the pathfinder Jedi are “seeking out new life and new civilizations”—not in exactly those words, but pretty close.) The heavy-handed environmental themes would be very appropriate in a Third Doctor story (in fact, a lot of this story reminded me of “The Green Death”).
The novel introduces a few elements that I find intriguing:
• I love the idea of the pathfinder Jedi. This is closer to what I’d imagine the Jedi to be when there were just the original three movies. I pictured Jedi as wandering ronin-type characters, not as a unified community with a central hub on Coruscant. In hindsight, I guess I was more interested in the lone knight on a quest than in the political intrigues at the Round Table. The prequel trilogy was very Round Table–ish, and I didn’t care for the story very much. In this novel, we see the Jedi traveling the galaxy with small teams, exploring unreached places and trying to do good wherever they go. Bringing this together with The Acolyte makes a very interesting story arc—that the Jedi originally serve the colonizing force of the galaxy (the Republic), and by the time of The Acolyte, they’ve become the police force of the galaxy. With all that background in mind, the events of the prequel trilogy, especially the way Palpatine successfully deceives the Jedi, take on deeper and more intriguing resonance.
• Nitani’s synesthetic perception of the Force is a great addition. Taking only the movies and TV series, we really have little idea what it means to sense things through the Force. This book pulls back the curtain just a bit to show how one padawan understands the Force and uses it as a guide for movement and action.
• Though we’re not yet far enough back in the timeline to see a Star Wars without droid assistance, this book presents droids as simpler “tools” rather than as essentially sentient beings. The droids do what they’re made for, and they communicate, but none of the droids here speaks, aside from electronic warbles. There is indication of emotional response and even humor, but these still seem to be a lower level of droid than in later eras of Star Wars. I would still like to see an era that has no droid assistance whatsoever. (This is another aspect of The Acolyte that I enjoyed—very little interaction with droids, and few droids that manifest human-like personalities. I like that astromechs are mentioned but never shown, so we don’t know if at that point in the timeline they were anything like R2-D2.)
A problem I’ve had throughout the High Republic stories is that I couldn’t care less about any of the basically interchangeable Jedi the stories introduce. I don’t know what it would take to make a distinct, interesting Jedi, but in this book I really don’t care about any of them. One of them is distinguishable by her use of a shield (which seems to me like an odd accessory for a Jedi), but the others could switch places in just about any part of the story and it wouldn’t make any difference. It may be that the way Lucas envisioned the Jedi is simply a dead end for character development. How can you make an attachment-less, emotionally balanced character different from all the others? The Acolyte solves that problem by showing the different ways each member of Jedi team responds to a tragedy they caused (vow of silence; solitary exile; frontier life; and living with unaddressed remorse in the Jedi temple).
I didn’t want to give up any of my real reading time for this book, so I listened to the audiobook during my daily commutes. Though the music and sound effects included in the audiobook are a good addition, the reader didn’t succeed for me. The voices she used for the younger characters all sound like kids on a 1950s sitcom. And in general, I felt like she was holding back. A good audiobook reader feels like they’re reaching out and connecting with the listener; it’s a compelling performance. A lesser reader feels like they’re sitting by themselves, reading into a microphone. The reader for this book definitely seemed like she was on her own with a microphone.
Quest for the Hidden City wasn’t the worst High Republic book I’ve read, and it includes enough interesting elements that I’m curious to see more of Phase 2....more
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