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ssadropout’s review:
I forgot to log this in! I guess I started it about a week ago, and I finished it yesterday. This is a zombie apocalypse tale. I've read and enjoyed several zombie books, but this one really sets itself apart. While there is quite a bit of action in the book, the story is driven by characterization and character development. I always love a book where my opinion of a character changes. That's a sign of a good writer. The title refers to a character but also to the Pandora's box myth. Remember? What was left in the box was HOPE. I'm always interested in what writers come up with to create their zombies. MR Carey uses the fungus Ophiocordyceps. I believe that I read about it somewhere once before. It's real, but it affects ants. As soon as an ant is affected, the fungus controls the creature's behavior. Yes real zombie ants. Gross out warning...!!! The fungus grows inside the ant and eventually bursts through the ant's head. You can see that this device can provide some gory thrills, and they mix well with the the characterizations. There is a new movie of it, and I hope that I can get to see it.
I gave this book THREE STARS.
I mostly read novels, but I like to learn about people, places, and times that are foreign to me. I like to read books that let me peek through windows into other cultures while telling good tales. I've enjoyed Tony Hillerman's Navajo mysteries and Colin Cotterill's Dr. Siri books which take place in Laos after the Communists took over, for example. Both of those writers were outsiders to the cultures in their books, but I have been led to believe that they have some credibility. (I don't know why I can't think of books written from within cultures. It's embarrassing!)
Camron Wright is also an outsider to the Cambodian culture he portrays in The Rent Collector. He became familiar with this slice of Cambodian life through a documentary that his son made about people who live at the Stung Meanchey waste dump of Phnom Penh. They attempt to eke out a living trash picking, trying not to get burnt, cut, or stuck with syringes. It brought to mind a photography exhibit I saw many years ago. It showed people, mostly from Third World countries, doing horrifying jobs. I remember people- with so safety aids- scaling walls of massive quarries. I think that I remember diamond and other miners. Many of the workers were children. We all know that there are terrible working conditions, but sometimes a picture does speak a thousand words.
The Rent Collector is a good book. The prose is very readable. It weaves ideas about literary archetypes and themes into the story of Sang Li and her small family. (Of course, she is a literary archetype, herself.) By the way, Sang Li and her family are real people. Sang Li is likable. So is her husband Ki Lim. Not so nice is the rent collector Sopeap Sin, but you know there's a tragic story there that likely has to do with the Pol Pot regime.
However, a few things bothered me about the book. The time line seemed very compressed. Sang learned to write, read, and digest sophisticated material in a very short time. Another thing that disappointed me was the sense of place. I've mentioned the photography exhibit, and I searched online about Stung Meanchey. The author described it, including the ramshackle dwellings, accurately, but I never felt that I was there. I could see it but not feel it or smell it. I would have like to have had the book include more about the savagery of the Khmer Rouge. I realize that the author was not trying to write the kind of cultural window that I like. He was writing a tale using literary archetypes. He did that well enough, but I still missed the feeling of being immersed in a different place or time. I wanted the book to have both.
I did enjoy reading this book and am looking forward to attending a professional book review about it later this week. The things that bothered me about the book might not bother anyone else. It's worth checking out.
If you ever leave the toilet seat up again...
A Royai Gambit?
Happy Royai Week, fellow shippers. I had planned to work on my fics and have everything ready on time, but life intervenes. I’ve had nausea and vertigo when I read or write for the past few weeks. They are not conducive to writing. I probably will only get a couple more stories up this week. Also, no beta. Please forgive. Anyway, Day 1- Chess.
Fuhrer Grumman pulled out the chess set and waved for Roy to set the board up. It had been nearly six months since they had played. Roy and his team had been in Ishval for the reconstruction, and Roy knew that this would not just be a routine game. He had kept Grumman current on the projects and politics, but there were things that did not come across in reports. The Fuhrer seemed to have an excited look in his eyes. Roy, who knew the old man well, found it to be quite unsettling. When they played chess, the strategies were not just for the game.
The two men each made a couple of conservative moves before Grumman began to talk. “Do you know much about the origins of the game, Roy-Boy?”
Roy froze. Oh, shit! He's never called me that before. That means that he's been in cahoots with Aunt Chris. Somehow, it always disturbs me that those two are so chummy. Is he really worried about something that I've done? Not done? “Uh, no I don't, Sir. I was always most concerned with strategy. Not that it has helped me against you. Sir.” Roy grinned.
“I've got some old books that you could read about the countries south of Xing. Amestris- as you well know, has always paid great attention to its border countries but has all but ignored any place that would be difficult to conquer or was far enough away to be of no consequence. We even ignored Xing, since it was beyond the desert, and Xing is a huge and rich country. Believe me when I say that they knew about Xing and the countries south of it,” Grumman continued. “Anyway, no one from Amestris has written any account of their travels south of Xing in the past 500 years or so, but I have two early books from the late 1300s. They are mostly accounts of mathematics, military tactics, and chess. Chess was invented in a country called Salamin.
“The military tactics were fascinating. They used drugs to give soldiers strength, concentration, and endurance. And even blood thirst.”
It was enough to distract Roy, “I believe that my Master had mentioned texts from Salamin. The concept of zero was also created there. He had never seen the texts, but his master had told him that some people believed that alchemy was invented there, too. We think that we got it from Xerxes, but it may not have originated in Xerxes. Hohenheim might have known.” Roy knew that Grumman knew who his master was. Well, the game was never confined only to the board, but the Hawkeye family, while often on the old man's agenda, was probably not part of today's game,
“It's interesting how we both came to be soldiers,” Grumman posited. You are a scientist soldier. Now that you are working in Ishval, you are becoming a bit of a statesman, but you still initially look at things in a scientific way. I'm still the warrior with my eyes on the prize.”
He had checkmated Mustang. His glee brightened like the sun at Mustang's sigh.
“But I do have another reason why I brought you here today....”
“Ishval, Sir?”
“Yes. You haven't put anything about this critical issue in any of your reports. Really, what I want to know is... when are you going to marry my granddaughter?”
The move came to Roy like a bolt of lightening. “Why don't you ask your granddaughter when will she marry me, Sir?” He couldn't keep a smirk form his mouth.
“I'd have to smoke some of that Salamin drug before I ever do that.”
Every Day’s a Holiday
I wrote this earlier in the year and hoped to use it for Royai Week. It didn’t fit any of the prompts, so I am posting it as a pre-Royai Week bonus fic. It is Royai Week on the other side of the rock, after all. :)
Unusually, it was Falman's fault. Maybe fault was too strong a word. His initial pronouncement didn't cause any worse disruption than, say, finding a spider in the office. A spider was worth about two hours of slacking. Falman mentioned that it was Donut Day. Of course, Breda insisted that they celebrate, not that anyone was against it, and he volunteered to go on the donut run. Hawkeye nixed that, and Fuery was sent. It was a futile measure. No one did any work until after the donuts arrived and were eaten.
Hawkeye sighed with relief when the men got back to work, but the usually innocent Falman had something to add. This one was a doozy, because it ended up having a lingering effect. Falman expanded his previous announcement by stating that every day was a holiday. Unbeknownst to them, apparently there were hundreds of semi-official made up holidays. Since then, Lieutenant Hawkeye had endured the idiot children she worked with celebrating Talk Like a Pirate Day (on which Roy wore an eyepatch, even though it wasn't Dress Like a Pirate Day) and Opposite Day. (She had argued that being opposite meant that they would work, but they said that being opposite meant that they didn't follow her instructions.) Hayate had reluctantly cooperated with Fuery and the Colonel on Dress Up Your Pet Day. That was a bit of a surprise. She had expected to see Hayate in uniform, but they had dressed him as Alphonse Elric. (It was probably the Colonel's idea, Fuery's blueprints, and the Colonel's alchemical skills. The dog actually looked pretty cute.) She had drawn the line at Bubble Bath Day. One would have thought that that wouldn't be an issue, but there were two bathtubs at headquarters and Havoc had discussed it with a couple of female soldiers (other than Hawkeye.) She celebrated later that evening, as did the Colon...
The whole thing did exasperate her, but, clandestinely, she sort of enjoyed it. Not the excuses to shirk work, but the camaraderie. As close knit as they were, they sometimes needed a lift.
Then there was a lull. Apparently none of the men wanted to celebrate Panic Day or Dentist's Day. She kind of missed the silliness. But, then she had an idea for her own special holiday. Not exactly private. There was one person she needed to share it with.
She slipped the folder under Mustang's first two cases for the day. He usually made it through at least three cases without having to check the window, rearrange some books, or set something on fire. Of course, that day was different. He got called to a meeting immediately on arrival, and Havoc had decided to see if any of the Colonel's work looked interesting. She was none too cool in intervening. She suspected that Jean suspected that something was up.
Mustang returned a little before lunch, and he found a nice warm platter waiting for him. The others were dismissed for lunch, Havoc eyeing them on the way out. Hawkeye made it clear that the boss would be getting some work done. She had cut up his chicken so that he could concentrate on his files while he ate.
As she had predicted, he managed to focus on the first two cases, though with a lot of accompanying grumbling, and he then proceeded to open the third file. There was silence. He picked up the sheet in the file and examined it closely. The sheet of paper had three parallel two inch cuts at the bottom. Four coupons were meant to be torn off like on the papers pinned to the bulletin boards advertising goods to sell or the search for a roommate.
“I wasn't aware of this particular holiday, Lieutenant, but I heartily approve of it.” He began to tear one strip off, but she warned, “Be sure to read the conditions and limitations first.”
He read aloud. “These coupons may only be used on Kiss a Colonel Day, today, June 11 as well as days of the week ending in “y”. No rain checks. They are non-transferable. They may only be redeemed by the designated recipient. They may not be redeemed in public or at any location at Military Headquarters including but not limited to the inner office, the records room, and the supply closet. This offer is predicated on the condition that the said Colonel, hereafter referred to as the kissee, completes his paperwork by a reasonable hour as determined by the Lieutenant, hereafter known as the kisser.” He looked up from the sheet into her brown eyes.
“Any attempt to bypass the conditions and limitations will result in total disqualification, Sir.”.
“Hmm. I would hate to see that happen. I do not want to be disqualified for this offer.” He read further: “The kisser has the right to determine what type of kisses the kissee receives, but the kissee is permitted to make suggestions. The kisser is not responsible for any damage caused by any activities that may ensue from the kisses.” He paused thoughtfully. “Damage, Lieutenant? I'm trying to imagine what might ensue.”
“The kisser has great respect for the kissee's imagination, Sir.”
“Well, Lieutenant, I'd better get to work. It's nearly 1300.”.
“That would be a good idea, Sir.”
The team probably discussed the Colonel's diligent work ethic where they couldn't be overheard.
<3<3<3<3
They had their covert methods, and Roy arrived at Riza's apartment a few minutes after she had. The lighting was low and a record was on the Victrola. Riza appeared from her bedroom dressed in a short silk robe over a camisole and panties. Roy would have ripped his jacket off if he wouldn't have had to sew the buttons back on. He opened his briefcase and began to rifle through it.
“Damn. I thought that I put that file on top. How could I misplace such an important folder?” His full attention was on its contents now.
Riza grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Lucky for you, Sir, I happen to have a copy of the offer. This is one of the few times that a facsimile may be used instead of the original.”
Meanwhile, he had found the original and waved it. “Does this mean that I can redeem eight kisses?
“There is no limit to the number of times the offer may be redeemed. The coupons may even be reused,” she whispered right before she fulfilled the first coupon.
Welcome To The Monster Factory
Royai Week Day 1- Letter
This is the only fic that I have written for Royai Week (thus far.) I may post even more rushed goobledegook or may not.
I hc that Riza and Roy grew apart, especially after Berthold died, but the horrors of Ishval brought them back together and bonded them with that unbreakable Royai superglue.
*********************************************************
Roy fell onto his cot and sobbed. He couldn’t believe that Riza Hawkeye had ended up in this shithole. When he’d seen her, his head had filled with a blinding and deafening buzzing. Not only had he perverted the flame alchemy she’d given him, but he’d also poisoned her with his naive vision of the military. She should be in Teachers College or Nursing School. Even married, not that he liked that idea. Anywhere but here.
He stood up and paced rapidly. He would never excuse himself for what he was doing, but he really wanted her to understand, even a little. He was gutless, but he knew right from wrong. He wanted to do the right thing. He was just too afraid. He needed her to believe that he was not a bad man. Or, at least, he did not want to be a bad man.
But he couldn’t face her. He felt like he was drowning in shame. Choking on guilt. He threw himself back down on the sand-coated cot, nearly injuring himself on the stuff beneath. He sat up, and pulled a metal box out from under it. The box held his writing implements and paper, and also served as a writing surface. He lit the gas lamp.
How should he even address her? Not Riza. He’d been a terrible friend to her. Not Miss Hawkeye. Cadet was too impersonal. Shit. Finally:
Miss Riza,
I didn’t think that there was anything that could have made me feel sicker than what I have been doing to the Ishvallans, but then I saw YOU HERE.
For me, you being here does make one thing easier. I don’t have to explain to you what I’ve done with the gift you gave me, with your father’s life’s work. You’ve seen it. You know that there was no way that any confession I made to you would communicate my travesties. Seeing is worth a million words.
I have no excuses. If I were the man that I thought I was or hoped to be, I would have disobeyed orders. Maybe deserted. Maybe killed myself. But I’m no hero. I am a weak shadow of a man who can’t stand up for what is right. Maybe I’m not a man. I’ve turned into a monster.
I have a lot to answer for, especially to you. Your father asked me to look after you, and I never even checked up on you after he died and we buried him. I never asked if you needed anything. That’s no way to keep a promise or treat a friend. We were friends. I do think of you as a friend
I hate being a monster, but I don’t know how to stop while this “war” goes on. I’m trapped like the rat I am.
Miss Riza, I still want to help people. When this hell is over, if I still exist, I am going to try again. I understand that you must hate me, and you should. I hate myself. I do not expect forgiveness.
I just need you to know how sorry I am and that I will try to do better in the future.
Yours,
Roy Mustang
*********************************
Riza read the letter again. It had been slipped into her tent as she slept. She had no tears. In the short time she had been here, Ishval, with its punishing sun, had already dried her up. And, in the short time she had been here, she was already aware that she was in the process of a hideous metamorphosis. Major Mustang… Roy was wrong to put so much blame on himself. This was a monster factory.
No wonder he was afraid to rebel or run away. The repercussions would be devastating. The choices they had were really no choices at all.
When she had first arrived and seen what he had done, the emotion she had felt burned through her. It could have been hate. It most certainly was the most scorching anger she had ever felt. When her father had told her about the tattoo, her reaction had been one of numbness. Her father hadn’t been her friend. Roy’s actions were a real betrayal. He hadn’t been a good friend lately, but he had when they lived together. She felt connected to him, even though he was no longer the silly confident boy she had known.
He didn’t ask for forgiveness, but she might need to give it almost as much as he surely needed to get it. It was now close to her time to kill. Then she’d sleep on how she wanted to deal with him.
*******************************
He looked up at the sound of the knock on his tent support. “Enter… Miss Riza?” He stood.
“I don’t hate you, Major. I’d like to talk, if you would.”
So, that’s how it would be- ranks. But he was relieved that it would be, that she would talk to him. He gestured toward his cot. “Please have a seat, Cadet.”