Lois Lowry's The Giver - Book Review

I am a huge fan of cinema, and as such I am an avid reader of some of the bigger movie blogs out there. What this also permits me to do is to become somewhat of a retrospective reader.

Whenever my favourite movie blog Slash Film announces a new book adaptation, most of the time I have at least heard of the book, or been lucky enough to have read it. That being said, every once in a while along comes a movie being created from a book I have never heard about. The Giver by Lois Lowry is one of those books.

How I couldn’t have heard of it, considering I’m such an avid reader of sci-fi/fantasy I just don’t understand. Googling it generated thousands of responses, and if I wanted to I could have waded into the ocean of reviews, cliffs notes, opinions, and essays all about this 1993 award winning novel.

So I declined to read the reviews, I turned away from the cliffs notes and instead switched on my Kindle to see if it was available. It was. And such an interesting, albeit brief journey The Giver took me on.

I have an innate ability to read extremely quickly. When the last few Harry Potter books were released I was one of the first on the fan forums ready to discuss what occurred (yes, I’m admitting here there was a stage of my life when I frequented Harry Potter fan forums). As such, I completed The Giver across two nights, only pausing because sleep was at that stage, a required process for function.

So for those of you who haven’t read The Giver, how should I summarise it?

Jonas lives in a utopian society. There is no pain, no suffering, no disadvantage, no poverty or hunger. Many generations ago Jonas’ society adopted an existence of “sameness” - for where can there be sadness and pain when you take the choices that lead to this existence away? Lowry spends some time building this environment and its serene existence for the reader, while slowly introducing disturbing undertones and touching on the anxiety Jonas feels about his twelfth birthday. In this society, upon turning twelve an individual will be allocated the job they will perform for the rest of their life. When informed of his job, Jonas is as shocked as everyone else.

Jonas will be The Receiver.

A role only allocated once every few generations, The Receiver’s role is to form a relationship with The Giver, whose task is to transfer all the memories of the human world to Jonas for him to hold on behalf of the community. It is in undergoing this process that Jonas truly begins to understand and comprehend the gravity of what his people have given up to adopt their “utopian” lifestyle, and as a result he begins to question everything he thought was right.

Personally, I found The Giver to be quite unnerving. While only halfway through I admitted to a work colleague that I found the story disturbing and I wondered at the messages Lowry was trying to send.

I have always struggled with the concept that writers build their stories with a hidden message interwoven throughout. I mean, seriously, why can’t we just let a story BE a story? Do we really think Shakespeare wrote Hamlet hoping that hundreds of years later classes of school children would be analysing Hamlet’s soliloquy? Maybe Shakespeare just wanted to write a story about a guy who was cheesed off because his father was murdered by his uncle! I don’t know, maybe it’s a sign I need to put more thought into my own writing, however I’m fairly certain that up until a certain point Lowry is trying to send some messages about the benefits of the society we currently live in, in comparison to Jonas’s “utopian” existence.

The story itself however plods along and builds to a point of great potential, and then for me, it seems to unravel. Imagine someone pushing a tiny snowball down a hill, hoping it will gain speed and size, and instead it isn’t big enough and dissolves with a puff halfway to the bottom. That was The Giver for me.

Jonas reaches a point in the story where he makes a decision to act, however I think the journey he goes on to reach this decision could have been built with more foundation. Here is a person who has been raised to believe something, it’s the foundation of his very existence, and yet within days he is questioning beliefs he didn’t even know were optional before. The internal struggle must have been immense but for me I don’t feel I was taken on that journey.

The last few chapters speed to an uncertain conclusion, which is in itself a brave ending that leaves the reader thinking, but could have been so much richer.

So my ultimate conclusion? Being brutally honest, my first feeling upon completion was regret. If only this story had been given the investment it deserved, so much potential wasted. That being said, this is a well loved novel which has developed into a literature staple for many curriculums, so maybe I’m missing something?  I will be reading this one again, if anything to try and take from it the love so many others have.

What did you think?

Check it out here: The Giver

Tripping Tipsy: 3 stars.

5 stars:  Amazing, definitely being added to my personal collection!

4 stars:  Enjoyable.

3 stars:  Not bad.

2 stars:  What happened?

1 star:   Can I get those wasted hours of my life back please?

Brunch in Black Rock - Cafeteria Restaurant Review

One thing you will learn about me is that I am a big fan of BRUNCH. One of my favorite weekend activities is to creep out of bed at a "decent" hour, find a new café, and hope all the while that it is warm enough to sit outside with my pug beneath my feet. It is one time of the week that The Boyfriend and I both value immensely, so much so that on the odd occasion that I arrange to do something else at the sacrifice of our weekly ritual, I need to find some way to make it up to him lest I receive the dreaded glare of disappointment. 
This morning was one of those glorious winter mornings where the hint of spring is in the air, and dads everywhere are tentatively wheeling out their lawn mowers to try and tame their temporarily dry lawns. Delighting in the possibility that we could actually sit outside comfortably for the first time in months, off we went to Black Rock to find some seaside brunch fare.

With the idea of driving around Black Rock until spotting a decent, not too busy place, Cafeteria, a bright cafe back from the beach was spotted immediately and we got out to investigate. It was eventually chosen because the French patisserie next door was naturally heavy on the pastry and I was looking for something lighter.

We settled ourselves outside and were promptly greeted by the waiter who promised a quick return with menus. Ten minutes later we were still waiting. It was during those ten minutes of toe tapping that we started to get cold, and also realized the slight angle the table and chairs we were on meant a never ending battle to stay upright. So instead of leaving, which we should have done, we headed inside.

Again, we were promptly greeted by a waitress, who also promised a quick return with menus, and actually followed through on that promise, going above and beyond by also bringing a carafe of water and some glasses. Encouraged, I wondered if maybe it was the first waiter who was the problem and not the café itself. I spotted our original waiter at a table flirting with a group of five raucous young ladies, a place where he seemed content to hover until they left half an hour later. I ordered my standard latté and The Boyfriend ordered a caramel milkshake.

My watery latté.

While waiting I took a moment to examine my surroundings. The bright little cafe was simply decorated with tones of olive green and yellow, with a relaxed, chatty atmosphere. The table of young ladies and their screeching laughter would not be appreciated if I was hungover but since I'm not and it's such a lovely day I decide to merely observe them and the way they skillfully monopolized the waiters attention despite other customers waiving desperately at him for service.

The menu itself is quite diverse, but with the breakfast menu ending at 12.00pm it doesn't cater to the "late brunch" crowd. That being said there is a good selection on the All Day menu available, and I'm torn between the home made spiced pumpkin & cranberry bread with hazelnut marscopone, or the hot chicken meatballs with mushroom & basil on olive oil bread. In the end I get menu envy after spotting a neighbour's dish, and copy them by ordering the Ricotta hot cakes with a berry compote and honey cinnamon yogurt, accompanied by a banana smoothie. The Boyfriend goes outside the square and orders Eggs Benedict and a side order of fries. Apparently he is hungry!


So all around me are various dishes all looking quite delicious. The omelette with chorizo, capsicum and potato has my mouth watering, and the pork belly with asian salad - oh my god. The place is only about half full, and the bar staff work with a good rhythm, but it seems one waitress is run off her feet, while the other (who I shall refer to as The Flirter) is continuing to hover around his table of choice. He has really mastered the art of paying attention to these girls, so much so he actually managed to serve our milkshake without even facing his body towards our table! He kind of shuffled backwards, lent back and placed the glass blindly on our table (almost knocking over the carafe), all while holding a conversation with the girls (who were all completely out of his league).

So while we were entertained by The Flirter, other customers clearly weren't and I saw some toe tapping and eye rolling around me. But back to the food and drinks. 


My latté? Watery. 


Now I am no barista, I mean, I manned a cappuccino machine in Karingal Hub Food Court for five years during my high school years, but I don't think that counts. That being said, I know enough to be aware that lattés - not meant to be watery.

I drank it though, because like I said yesterday, coffee outside the city can be hit and miss, but looked forward to my banana smoothie.

At this price those bananas
had better be self peeling!

Now some of you might be aware that Australia is suffering through The Great Banana Crisis. Mind you I'm the only one actually calling it The Great Banana Crisis, mainly because I love them so much. A fresh banana smoothie in the mornings... oh so yum. Since the catastrophic flooding in Queensland however, our banana supplies have become scarce and the price has skyrocketed. Many places have taken banana-based dishes off their menu altogether, or are charging an exorbitant price for them. And what is an exorbitant price for a banana? Try $13 a kilo. Seriously. Before this they were maybe $2.00 a kilo, so now bananas are out of reach for the average joe unless you have a serious need for potassium and are prepared to sacrifice other essentials, like toilet paper and petrol.

So when I see my banana smoothie delivered I almost dive into it I am THAT excited (I don't get out much). I take a big mouthful and then enter into a galactic battle not to spit it back out. It is sour. Ever had an unripe banana? It is bitter and twisted, and so is my smoothie. Seems they've decided that using unripe bananas is acceptable in the current banana-climate. It isn't. I end up dumping a heap of sugar into it and stirring for five minutes just to make the damn thing drinkable. Should I have complained? Probably, but I didn't want to distract The Flirter from trying to pick up those teenagers.

So back to the food, my ricotta hotcakes, which The Flirter deigned to deliver, are fluffy and cooked to perfection. The savory element on the dish, they are complimented by the sourness of the lemon and the sweetness of the fruit. The yogurt, surprisingly, is quite bland, I can't taste the honey and the cinnamon is lacking in punch, I end up leaving most of it on the plate. 

The Boyfriend's Eggs Benedict looked fantastic and I wanted to help him out with them, but he had a grumble because one of the eggs was over cooked (he is a big believer that the runnier the better) but he at least finished the meal. The two of us also agreed to disagree on the pesto aioli that came with his side of chips. I loved it, he wanted tomato sauce (or ketchup for those foreigners out there).

So my verdict on this café? Coffee could be better, the waiter needs to lower his standards and stop trying to bat above his average, and they should stop serving unripe bananas in their food. The meals themselves were pretty good, and there were some other things on the menu I wish I could have ordered as well. 

The big question though: will we be going back? 

No. 

Would I tell you not to go there though? I'll let you make your own mind up on that one.

2.5 stars.

SEED - Kindle Book Review

Every few weeks I find myself on my Kindle, casually browsing the online bookstore, looking for some fresh pickings.

I need to be clear about my dedication to the written... no, the PRINTED word. I believe in books. I believe in the feel of them, the smell, the thrill of opening one for the first time. I have a set of Harry Potter box-set collectables that NOBODY may open, which sit pride of place by themselves on my top shelf and that I may one day read if my well thumbed collection fails me. But what I also have is the Great Discardable Book Collection (GDBC). Piles and piles of books littering my bedroom, bedside tables, the kitchen, falling over in my loungeroom, most of which I've read once and will never again. The true treasures of my collection, my much loved re-read-until-they-fall-apart novels, are neatly sorted by author and genre on my bookshelves. Think the likes of Stephen King, whose novel "IT" I first read at the age of 8 and re-read until the cover finally fell off nearly fifteen years later, and every other one of his masterpieces. Anyway, these books will follow me forever, the Great Discardable Book Collection in contrast is the bane of my partners existence. Every time I came home with another pile of them with the excuse "but there was a sale on" he'd sigh and purse his lips in the same way I do whenever he brings home more baseball gear. 

A man of action though, he finally had enough last year and on our anniversary bestowed upon me a brand new Kindle, on the unspoken but clear condition that I was finally to do something about the GDBC. I reluctantly agreed, and the GDBC has now been gifted to a fellow book lover who is systematically devouring them (and I have to add giving those books away was extremely painful, and I spent many hours pouring over the titles analysing whether I would ever, ever, EVER feel the desire to maybe, potentially, some day re-read them again. Needless to say many got rescued back off the pile before handing them over and they live snugly in the top of my wardrobe).

What my partner didn't anticipate though, is the hours I now spend in the Kindle Amazon "virtual" book store. I like to find those unexpected 5 star books, the TRUE 5 star books that when you take the time to actually read the reviews isn't littered with 1 star reviews from people who actually know good writing and haven't been swayed by clever marketing and undeserved hype (oh yes, Gretchen Rubin, I am GOING there).

SEED the debut novel of Ania Ahlborn, is one of those rare novels.

Released on June 1st 2011, it wasn't long before Seed was in the 10th position in Kindle's Top Rated books for Horror/Occult. A dazzling debut, Ania has really captured the essence of true horror. I made the mistake of starting this late last night and at 2.00am was actually scared to turn out the light and sleep took some time coming. That being said, as soon as I woke up I was back into it and finished it this afternoon.

Seed tells the story of Jack Winter, a father, a husband, and a man with a lifelong secret kept buried in the vine-twisted swamps of Louisiana.

Plagued in his childhood by the darkness he thought he had escaped, it is not until after a near fatal accident, on a dark road that he once again lays eyes on the foe of all those years ago. The cold trickle of dread he feels grows when his 6yo daughter Charlie confirms that she too, could see what Jack was seeing.

And then she begins to change.

Faced with reliving the nightmares of his childhood, Jack then watches his daughter spiral into the shadows that had nearly consumed him twenty years before. But Charlie isn’t the only one who’s changing. 

Jack never outran the darkness. It’s been with him all along.

Ania builds a story using the subtlety of the skilled horror writer. Clearly a natural talent, Ania interlaces the current day horror with flashbacks to Jack's childhood and the experiences he had taking on the same menace who has now returned for him and his family. She layers the story with tense scenes, superbly written in such a way that it leaves you looking over your shoulder for the source of the noise in the corner. As a reader who has grown up with Stephen King, Dean Koontz and Thomas Harris, it takes a lot to impress me, and I admit I was by this particularly as a debut effort.

With natural parralells with William Blatty's The Exorcist, this book takes the story to the next level. What if there was no priest to rely on? No God? What would happen then? The ending was brave and didn't take the normal, expected route and I won't spoil it for anyone now, but I highly recommend that even if you're not a normal reader of the genre that you give it a go, if anything to support an incredible natural talent who is paving her own way.


Get it on your Kindle here: Seed

http://www.aniaahlborn.com/

Signing Off,

Tripping Tipsy.

I'm off to the Ormond Provedore, dahlink!

So in terms of my writing, I have very many varied interests. I'm torn between a desire to lock myself in a room and pump out novel after novel... but then I'd also love to work freelance and review food, books, wines, shoes, whatever takes my fancy. This blog is about helping me refine these desires; sometimes it may be very serious, sometimes a rant, sometimes a bit whacky. If you're along for the ride I apologise in advance.

So today, after several days of being trapped in the house after recovering from surgery, I decided escape and the physical pain it would cause me was inevitable. Providence however came in the form of the Ormond Provedore, a cafe recommended to me by a friend and that had, by coincidence, also popped up on a restaurant review website I am fond of frequenting. I decided the effort of sitting, even for a short time, was going to be worth it to give this undiscovered local a go!

So the Ormong Provedore! What a fancy name! With it I had visions of dressing in black, big hair, stilettos, a pearl necklace and an oversized handbag exclaiming "I'm off to the Ormond Provedore to get some canapes, dah-link." So needless to say my torn tracksuit pants, ankle cast and stained hoodie probably didn't fit with the image I'd created for myself and the cafe.

So after convincing my sister of my desperate need to sample this treasure only two minutes from home, we headed out into the gloomy weather in search of (hopefully) good coffee and high quality produce.

We were not disappointed.

Shielded from busy North Road Ormond by a canopy, simple and fresh is how I'd describe the Ormond Provedore. Chocolate brown wainscoting adorns the white brick walls and the small cafe is scattered with wooden tables and chairs for at least twenty, plus a courtyard out back for sunny days.

Snuggled on a cushion covered wooden bench, light streamed through the windows and bounced off the bench to ceiling mirrors behind the counter. This created a bright atmosphere despite the gloomy day, and gave me plenty of light and warmth to enjoy my Saturday morning newspaper. The skinny latte was as good as any I've had - creamy and smooth, just strong enough and not too hot, and considering outside of the city coffee can be a bit hit and miss at times, I was glad this left no room for complaint. I was also lucky enough to select the Vegetarian Turkish Pied for lunch from the eclectic menu of cafe-style dishes and asian inspired delights. 

Ormond Provedore's
Vegetarian Turkish Pied - Delish!

Toasted to perfection, the vegetarian filling had a fresh mix of pale sweet potato, roasted red capsicum, caramelised onion, salty fetta and refreshing pesto balanced with some crispy spinach. I'm making a conscious effort at the moment to eat more vegetarian options, and had passed on an Asian Chicken burger with coleslaw as a result, but this was a tasty outcome.

With shelves adorned with home made jams, spreads and produce, I highly recommend the Ormond Provedore, and coincidentally, so do a lot of other people too! For those of you who are not locals, I am not overly sure it's worth the trip just to visit this little roadside cafe, but it's there as an option, open until 3.00pm seven days a week.

http://yourrestaurants.com.au/guide/ormond_providore/

Signing Out,

Tripping Tipsy.

Not Blogging Again???

So while this isn't my first foray into the Blogosphere, it is however my first steps into it with a clear intention of what it is I hope to achieve, and what I want this blog to deliver, for me anyway.


As a reader, you might find it hopelessly boring! Hey, I might not have any readers at all but the truth of the matter is if I went out there with the intention to get as many readers as possible, I might end up going for a "quantity over quality" approach to my posts that I'd rather avoid. I am in mourning myself for some amazing bloggers who have given up the gig due to a lack of readers, with no consideration for the fact that I was there being thoroughly entertained by them, so I don't want to fall into the same trap of obsessively checking how many "views" I have achieved or "comments" I have received, and using that as a marker for success.


So right now I'm lying in bed with a broken ankle, recovering from surgery and this has naturally given me quite a bit of time to think about where it is I am investing my time, and could I spend it a little more responsibly? The answer was, as always, a resounding yes - I was wasting too much time on this, and too much time on that. So where else could I spend it? ...Exercise and writing? Okay, done! I then promptly spent the next hour trying to find a good background picture for my blog, completely wasting the time I'd promised to be more frugal with.


So the purpose of this blog? Well, I love writing, I have always loved writing and the one thing I have never done is spend enough time focusing on it aside from a period five years ago where I found myself desperately unwell and in need of escape. A lovely friend Hart Johnson, who I met around that same time, recently gave me some advice, borrowed from one of my favourite artists, Steven King: "you have to show up. Every day. Or else the muse won’t know when and where to find you. But if you show up. Every day. She will be right there nudging you along."


So I am making an attempt to at least show up.


And this here blog is about refining my art.


So I will talk about writing, I will review the many books I read (much to my partner's chagrin, especially last night when at 2.00am he finally lost patience and begged me to turn the light off). I will review the restaurants I eat at, and I will tell tales about my family. I will change names to protect the not so innocent but I will make a commitment to tell the truth, or at least let you know when something is exaggerated for entertainment purposes. I will share the stories of my life, I will show you why my name is Tripping Tipsy and why it is completely justified - and no, I am not tripping BECAUSE I am tipsy, unfortunately for me the two conditions are not mutually exclusive. I guarantee, for example, that had I have had a few glasses of wine when I climbed down that cliff embankment in Thailand, the Party Gods would have taken care of me, and not let me fall and snap my ankle like the Sober Gods did. That being said, if it hadn't have happened i wouldn't be here right now focusing on my blog. So maybe the Sober Gods were giving me a blessing in disguise... food for thought.


So here I am, just a girl, standing here in the webaverse, hoping someone, anyone might read, and ENJOY, my blog (or at least give me feedback on why it sucks). More to come shortly.


Signing Off,


Tripping Tipsy.