Short Thoughts: Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett

I delayed my "What I've Been Reading" posts to alleviate pressure, and then ended up reading too many to include in one big post. So I've got another idea that should increase my engagement with the non-YA I read as well as my blogging frequency: writing up some quick thoughts on the other books I read. The reason why I review YA is because it's just easier to me; I started reading it to explore it because I was not too familiar with the genre as it is today, and so I approached it with a more critical and objective lens than some of the other things I read. A lot of my critique also came from the angle of relating it to my own experiences.

Anyway, so I just finished Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett. As many of you probably knew, Pratchett passed away in March. I had been familiar with him and had the Discworld series on my radar, but I had not really explored the various titles or read any of them before he died. When that happened, several titles went on sale on Kindle, and the one that most interested me out of the cheapest picks was Reaper Man: essentially, about Death having an existential crisis.

Reaper Man (1991) is actually the eleventh novel written that takes place in the Discworld universe, and the second featuring Death after Mort. While I've been told that the series can be read in any order, I did sort of feel that it may have been better if I had more foundation as to the various beings in Discworld. But it was still enjoyable. (Also, at least according to this--which additionally does a good job of explaining the strange structure--this novel includes a few recurring characters from other books. Or something like that.)

Another unique thing about the series is that it doesn't have any chapter breaks. For me, honestly, it sort of slowed down my reading because I was stopping it more frequently because a scene had ended and I wasn't sure when the next one would end. It's also written in third person omniscient, which lately I've found that I've struggled a bit with if I believe there is one main character that is more important than the others, because then I don't pay as much attention to the other parts of the story that probably end up being just as important. This happened with Reaper Man at times; the wizard Windle Poons (who does not die as he's supposed to because Death quits) is just as much a main character as Death, and while I did find myself focusing for the most part on his section of the story, I didn't enjoy it as much as Death's. Perhaps that was because I just found Death funnier. But alas, this is definitely a reading habit of mine I can work on.

Regardless, Reaper Man was pretty funny. I marked plenty of sentences that amused me, and I found that most of them fell into the category of social commentary, such as "Bill Door made the mistake millions of people had tried before with small children and slightly similar situations. He resorted to reason." Other things are just worded in a subtle but amusing fashion, Douglas Adams-style. Death himself was overall quite sarcastic or at least humorous in his lack of understanding, which was highlighted by his dialogue being written LIKE THIS WITH NO QUOTATION MARKS. And yet underneath all of the humor it had its poignant moments about aging and dying.

Overall, I enjoyed my first foray into Discworld and I look forward to checking out some of the other novels, perhaps starting with all of Death's arc!

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Reality Boy by A.S. King: Review/Discussion

The lure of what remained of A.S. King's backlist that I hadn't read proved too great for me, as I devoured Reality Boy in just two or three days. The thing is, Reality Boy didn't interest me as much as the others that I've read from her (see here and here), and maybe some of it was a little messy, but it did engage me and had me thinking at times.

Reality Boy follows Gerald Faust, a boy who was humiliated on reality television (one of those nanny shows) and subsequent YouTube uploads when he was young. It first appears--and is often billed as--the aftermath of such trauma. But it's actually a little more than that. According to the interview at the end of the paperback edition, King was wondering how the statistics of abused children were present on reality TV, and how hiding that may have distorted everything. And I'm going to try to avoid spoilers (although, frankly, it's kind of the premise), but that's the case here, and it isn't the parents, either--which is something I've never really seen explored before.

One of the first things that jumped out at me from Reality Boy was how King wrote first person from the head of someone not easily accessible at all. Gerald is an angry teenager and at first it's difficult to understand why that is justified. Some of the words he uses may also be perceived as offensive (mostly "retarded"), although this is later addressed. Similarly, love interest Hannah and their relationship has its uncomfortable moments, but the two come to an understanding. I especially liked how she wanted to make sure he knew who she really was (as well as vice versa) before becoming too committed to the relationship, especially as previously, through Gerald's eyes, the novel seemed to glorify her to an extent. Overall, King isn't afraid to make her characters unlikable and, dare I say, problematic, but allows them to grow.

Also, this quote:

"She's human. Sometimes she can be a jerk. Sometimes there is no why."

The other thing I'm noticing about King's novels is how they are written as unfolding events--very similar to the way King writes them, although I'm sure things have been editing and rearranged. King's a "pantser" and not a planner, which means that she starts with an idea but otherwise does not plan her plots before she starts writing. (I'm something in between these two approaches, myself.) And from everything I've read from her so far except Ask the Passengers, each focus character has a backstory that is slowly unveiled through their own narration throughout the novel, though the complexity differs between characters. (Gerald's somewhere in the middle.) Not only does this avoid lengthy backstories told upfront, but it also creates a mystery aspect and the overall effect of getting to know the character just as you would get to know real people.

Even if I didn't enjoy Reality Boy as much as Everybody Sees the Ants and Please Ignore Vera Dietz (but I've given up giving up a real rating, because who cares about numbers?), there was one aspect I could relate to: anxiety over how one is perceived by others. This is something that has always concerned me, but Gerald is definitely in a worse position. Gerald knows that no one knows the truth of what happened to him, and he takes the approach to just recede from interpersonal interactions (which also helps control his anger). This is an option that can definitely sound appealing in that situation, no matter how unhappy or unproductive it can be. But by the end, he gains a bit of perspective.

The worst part is, Gerald has grown up believing lies himself. He believed that there was something wrong with him, that he had a learning disability, that he had no future. All because his family was too afraid to face the true problem. But I think it goes a little deeper than that: this was a problem that was feared to be harder to swallow on TV. It was so much easier to rationalize Gerald's antics as his problem. And the show did nothing to highlight the real issues, even if the nanny seemed to understand at least once. But, as Gerald said, no one would make a reality show about real life.

That's the real tragedy