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Book Reviews: Underland, Macfarlane; The Fantastic Art of Beksinski; Lon Po Po, Young
Title: Underland: A Deep Time Journey
Author: Robert Macfarlane
Narrator: Matthew Waterson
Published: Highbridge, 2019
Rating: 3.5 of 5
Page Count: 490
Total Page Count: 342,440
Text Number: 1221
Read Because: mentioned in Fear of the Depths by Jacob Geller, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: I always forget (probably as a coping mechanism) that books about the planet/ecology/natural phenomenon must also be about climate change & other human disasters. They're all therefore marked by an insistence than change is necessary, but difficult, but possible—a terror and dogged hopefulness which is appropriate to the work but taxing to read.
Otherwise, this is interesting for its wide interpretation of "underland," which extends from natural to manmade, from caves to catacombs; which can be deceptively shallow or landless, like root systems and seas. It's a diverse exploration, and the constant discovery of the sublime both within these settings and in the complex ways they dwarf and/or are impacted by humanity conveys the profoundly vast, varied beauty of the subject. The human element is necessary and supports this theme, but also grows overbearing—I prefer less visible narrators, but beyond personal preference the rockclimbing stories and strong caricatures are repetitive.
Title: The Fantastic Art of Beksinski
Artist: Zdzisław Beksiński
Published: Morpheus International, 1998
Rating: 4.5 of 5
Page Count: 80
Total Page Count: 343,165
Text Number: 1235
Read Because: fan of the artist, hardback borrowed from the Wilsonville Public Library
Review: Art primarily from Beksiński's "fantastic realism" period, ~1960s-80s, with a few examples of his later work. I love this artist and his bewitching nightmarescapes. He has the most remarkable organic greebling—a texture like hands/bones/branches/roots/veins which stretches across faces and buildings indiscriminately, thus uniting organic/inorganic, alive/dead, personal/public. It's uncomfortable and intricate, an exceedingly effective body horror and an invitation to linger over the details of the alien landscapes. (His later paintings are brighter and sometimes simpler, and I generally don't find them as evocative; his digital manipulations are thematically similar but unfortunately show their age.)
But insofar as the benefit of picking up a print volume rather than browsing the artist's work online is print quality, accessibility, and curation, this is ... just okay. I enjoy lingering over a physical print, and the image quality is fine. But thick borders steal real estate from large paintings and the quotes from interviews, etc., while insightful, grow overbearing and are chock full of unfortunate typos. An imperfect imprint, but a beloved artist, and I'm glad I took the time to really sit with his art.
Title: Lon Po Po: A Red-Riding Hood Story from China
Author: Ed Young
Published: Philomel Books, 1989
Rating: 4.5 of 5
Page Count: 30
Total Page Count: 343,195
Text Number: 1236
Read Because: personal enjoyment, hardback borrowed from the Wilsonville Public Library
Review: Beautifully illustrated, with hazy, almost abstract watercolors picked out by pastel detailing in improbable muted rainbows of fur and leaves. The panels which divide the pages add back narrative progression and build effective vignettes. I love red riding hood, and was familiar with the content of similar East Asian tales, but reading one as a story rather than summary is a different experience and I'm glad for it. If iconic imagery is absent, that's also true of pre-17th century antecedents to the European version, and the dialog between daughter(s) and wolf-grandmother and the wily problem-solving is familiar—and centralized, to engaging effect.
This also has a fantastic dedication—"To all the wolves of the world for lending their good name as a tangible symbol of our darkness" (over a figure legible both as wolf and human)—which, I confess, I may love most of all.
Author: Robert Macfarlane
Narrator: Matthew Waterson
Published: Highbridge, 2019
Rating: 3.5 of 5
Page Count: 490
Total Page Count: 342,440
Text Number: 1221
Read Because: mentioned in Fear of the Depths by Jacob Geller, audiobook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: I always forget (probably as a coping mechanism) that books about the planet/ecology/natural phenomenon must also be about climate change & other human disasters. They're all therefore marked by an insistence than change is necessary, but difficult, but possible—a terror and dogged hopefulness which is appropriate to the work but taxing to read.
Otherwise, this is interesting for its wide interpretation of "underland," which extends from natural to manmade, from caves to catacombs; which can be deceptively shallow or landless, like root systems and seas. It's a diverse exploration, and the constant discovery of the sublime both within these settings and in the complex ways they dwarf and/or are impacted by humanity conveys the profoundly vast, varied beauty of the subject. The human element is necessary and supports this theme, but also grows overbearing—I prefer less visible narrators, but beyond personal preference the rockclimbing stories and strong caricatures are repetitive.
Title: The Fantastic Art of Beksinski
Artist: Zdzisław Beksiński
Published: Morpheus International, 1998
Rating: 4.5 of 5
Page Count: 80
Total Page Count: 343,165
Text Number: 1235
Read Because: fan of the artist, hardback borrowed from the Wilsonville Public Library
Review: Art primarily from Beksiński's "fantastic realism" period, ~1960s-80s, with a few examples of his later work. I love this artist and his bewitching nightmarescapes. He has the most remarkable organic greebling—a texture like hands/bones/branches/roots/veins which stretches across faces and buildings indiscriminately, thus uniting organic/inorganic, alive/dead, personal/public. It's uncomfortable and intricate, an exceedingly effective body horror and an invitation to linger over the details of the alien landscapes. (His later paintings are brighter and sometimes simpler, and I generally don't find them as evocative; his digital manipulations are thematically similar but unfortunately show their age.)
"In a dream, you can see a man who has a piece of raw meat instead of a head. This man is lying on the ground and actually growing into it, all the while carrying on a conversation with you. This situation (from a dream of mine) is not surprising or terrifying to you. It is a normal enough dream. It is only after you awake and analyze the details, that you notice that almost everything in the dream was strange and would have been terrifying if you had encountered it in your waking hours. It is a literal vision, but at the same time, blood is not blood here, pain is not pain, crime is no crime, and there is nothing to protest against, as it would be equally meaningful to protest against the fact that snow is falling."
But insofar as the benefit of picking up a print volume rather than browsing the artist's work online is print quality, accessibility, and curation, this is ... just okay. I enjoy lingering over a physical print, and the image quality is fine. But thick borders steal real estate from large paintings and the quotes from interviews, etc., while insightful, grow overbearing and are chock full of unfortunate typos. An imperfect imprint, but a beloved artist, and I'm glad I took the time to really sit with his art.
Title: Lon Po Po: A Red-Riding Hood Story from China
Author: Ed Young
Published: Philomel Books, 1989
Rating: 4.5 of 5
Page Count: 30
Total Page Count: 343,195
Text Number: 1236
Read Because: personal enjoyment, hardback borrowed from the Wilsonville Public Library
Review: Beautifully illustrated, with hazy, almost abstract watercolors picked out by pastel detailing in improbable muted rainbows of fur and leaves. The panels which divide the pages add back narrative progression and build effective vignettes. I love red riding hood, and was familiar with the content of similar East Asian tales, but reading one as a story rather than summary is a different experience and I'm glad for it. If iconic imagery is absent, that's also true of pre-17th century antecedents to the European version, and the dialog between daughter(s) and wolf-grandmother and the wily problem-solving is familiar—and centralized, to engaging effect.
This also has a fantastic dedication—"To all the wolves of the world for lending their good name as a tangible symbol of our darkness" (over a figure legible both as wolf and human)—which, I confess, I may love most of all.