The Girl Next Door, Jack Ketchum

Half-way through I thought that unless Jack Ketchum really is a sick bastard I’d better check up on the background of this story, because there’s no possible way he could get away with writing this stuff without repercussions. After my research I was shaken by the fact that much of the torture in this book was based on the true story of Sylvia Likens and the Banaszewskis in 1965. In fact, Jack takes it even further and makes what Meg went through even worse, which really didn’t sit well with my ratings decision. I mean, the real story is horrifying enough, but to cap it off with what they did with the tire rubber? Another thing I couldn’t stomach was that the narrator just stood and watched the torture like an indolent slug while most of this was going on. Perverted protagonists who do nothing while their “crush” is being tortured right in front of them just doesn’t compute. 

I gave it 2 stars instead of 1 because, despite the fact that the appalling events make it one of the most morally disturbing books out there, it was still a suspenseful page-turner that kept me strapped to my seat, wanting to know what will happen next. But the interest while reading it is more like the interest one gets when driving by a three-car pile-up; you know you shouldn’t, and some part of you doesn’t want to, but you just have to look. 

 

After I read about the Likens case, I got all heated and wrote a blog post about how something like this could happen. It impacted me greatly: what Meg/Sylvia had to endure is unforgettable and the story is truly powerful because it's based on such a sweet, innocent girl. Sometimes I wish I’d never read this book, but I guess it’s important to be reminded of the heinous brutality that some people in this world are capable of doing. I like to think that Sylvia's suffering was not in vain because she's inspired so many people around the world to be courageous and strong in the clutches of a horrendous environment. If you're ever feeling down then just think about what Sylvia went through. Things could always be worse, a lot worse. 

The Indiana Torture Slaying, John Dean

Very thorough examination of the case, but I have a couple things I want to say. 

 

Point 1) I can't bring myself to believe that Sylvia started the prostitution rumors. Stephanie's testimony seemed to be full of rubbish. I have a feeling they falsely accused her of a lot of things just to find excuses to punish her. 

 

Point 2) I think Sylvia (and Jenny) didn't seek help when the violence was escalating because, like the children who abused her, they truly believed the punishment was legitimate. I know from personal experience that when you're a child and a "parent" yells at you daily for any small mistake you make, your self-esteem goes south and you start believing everything they tell you; e.g., that you're worthless, pregnant, a slut, etc. You believe that you deserve all the punishment the parent deems necessary. Call it a weak sense of identity, but unfortunately, it's easy to manipulate fragile children who can't fight back, even ones as old as 16. 

Small Gods, Terry Pratchett

Small Gods is Terry Pratchett’s finest work, and not because it’s the funniest. Well, it may be the funniest if you’re a down-to-earth monk or a lethal atheist who enjoys mocking the religious sector. But aside from that, this book makes you think, which is a tall order for any book based on magic or comedy. There’s a genius in the way this story unfolds, which might have a little to do with the fact that there are four geniuses at the core of the plot. A monk with a photographic memory, “Brutha” (mind you, this name sounds a lot like Buddha), is befriended by a very convincing villain- head of the Omnian Inquisition Vorbis, to confront a barbarous foreign nation: the philosophical, pagan paramount of Ephebe. But along the way Brutha hears a voice in his head, which doesn’t mean he’s crazy... this is Discworld after all... it means that an ironic surprise awaits the fate of the Omnian Empire. Along the way we meet Didactylos, a blind philosopher who is crazy by all means, but insanity often accompanies genius, so the intrigue is mutual. There’s also his rigid sidekick Urn, a naive inventor who probably belongs in the Aristotelian denomination of philosophy. Could a book like this possibly be written without Death? No; he makes his usual cameo. 

The reason I consider this as a work of genius is because the cosmogony of science, religion, and philosophy are meshed together perfectly, while at the same time being confounded by the fact that every certainty is a ridiculous waste of certainty... er, yeah. Terry proves that an outrageous wit isn’t the only thing you need to write books that people will buy over and over again; he also has a unique way of illustrating deep insight among the creative plot shifts of his bizarre world. I’m still hooked. Going to read Discworld books until I fall off its edge. 

 

A Fable, William Faulkner

Faulkner is starting to grow on me like unfamiliar music that gets better each time you hear it. It’s unbelievable that A Fable didn’t get the kind of attention it deserved when it was released in 1954. Although it won both the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award, it was panned by critics across the board (is this only possible in literature?). A dark allegory to The Passion of Christ, its setting in the trenches of World War 1 was probably unsettling to the vast majority of its (Christian) readers. But don’t be fooled; Faulker spent 9 years writing it, and some of the passages in here are as starkly powerful insights on the human condition as have ever been written. You can tell he was trying to write the capstone of his career, a career that as profound as it was couldn’t settle for less than divine testimony. A talent such as his gone through life without a perspective on religion or escaping the south just wasn’t meant to be. Many of his fans dismissed the novel because of its unfamiliar setting, but aren’t writers supposed to push the envelope and explore new territory? That’s what writing is. Whenever I’m writing I carefully make sure I’m not repeating myself; and it’s easy because I only get the drive to write when it’s about something I haven’t explored before.  A Fable faced a lot of scrutiny for all the wrong reasons, and it’s unfortunate that it’s not recognized among Faulkner’s better known works. 

 

My interpretation of the ending (SPOILER ALERT): The last part at the General's funeral might have confused a lot of people. I think The Runner was the guy on the ground and the Quartermaster was the man above him weeping. The Runner represents the influence of the Corporal, who in turn represents Jesus, while the Quartermaster represents the influence of the General, who in turn represents God. To me the most powerful part of the book was the General's monologue to the Corporal before he sentenced him to death: 'forsakes' him, if you will. It was as if God, the Father (and he was biologically his father in the novel), had been talking down to his naive, rebellious son, bargaining with him and demanding conservatism. Maybe this was what turned off a lot of Christians; Jesus and God were on the same side in The Bible, but in A Fable God is depicted as a merciless tyrant holding up the infrastructure of a war driven society. It might be safer to say that this is not an allegory but an allegoric interpretation of The Passion. Anyways, in the last scene we see there is a reconciliation between the two men, which suggests that God and his son finally came to terms even though it happened post-mortem through different people.