Rhythm of War Review - A Slow Burn Towards Book Five

A brief refresher: the Stormlight Archive is set to be Brandon Sanderson’s magnum opus, the grandest and most ambitious of his many, many books within a shared universe called the Cosmere. Against an ancient threat supposedly defeated long ago, the Knights Radiant must rise again to protect the world of Roshar and its inhabitants. There are sentient ideas come to life called spren. There are giant swords that cut stone and sever people’s souls. And of course, there is Stormlight, the magical power source held in gemstones that are renewed by a massive hurricane which has ravaged the world for millennia. It’s a series planned to have ten books, and Rhythm of War is the fourth.

I’ll avoid specific Rhythm of War plot spoilers for this review, but there will be plenty about the series so far. SPOILER WARNING from this point on. There, you’ve been warned.

***

Anyway, there used to be only one hurricane. Now there’s two; an opposing storm has arisen which empowers the enemy with the dark magic of Voidlight. It’s complicated. The nature of these different forms of Light lies at the heart of Rhythm of War’s storyline, but more time is spent ruminating with the series’ many broken characters.

THE STORY SO FAR

These books have never had the most consistent pacing. The Way of Kings was a slow beginning which set the stage for conflicts to come. A big part of what kept me reading was the sheer uniqueness of the setting. A war playing out over a vast plain of fissures and chasms which require slave-carried bridges to cross, and the former soldier Kaladin’s struggle to save himself and his fellow slaves against impossible odds. There were legendary heroes now revered as deities for fighting an ancient enemy that no one even remembers; once-heroic Knights who betrayed humanity yet formed the basis for a culture in which eye colour determines social status; motile plants and giant crustaceans which evolved to survive the storms. This world was different.

While still largely set on the Shattered Plains, Words of Radiance pushed the plot forwards in oh-so-satisfying ways. All the main characters were actually gathered in one place instead of faffing around on separate quests and only briefly running into each other. (Looking at you, latter Wheel of Time books.) People grow and change. Shocking twists occur. Shallan became a much better heroine compared to the first book. Words of Radiance was truly brilliant.

Then Oathbringer took us on a whirlwind tour of very different locales: the grim darkness of the long-abandoned tower city, Urithiru; the wartorn cities of Kholinar and Thaylenah; and the strange and fantastical realm of spren, Shadesmar. The third book zoomed out in scope in order to pack so much into those pages, sometimes to its detriment. But Dalinar’s backstory tied it all together, the bittersweet tale of a man in the process of changing. The Blackthorn is absolutely one of the best characters Sanderson has ever written, apparently the first he ever wrote. I teared up when he saw the light during the final battle, man. That doesn’t happen often.

And that brings us to Rhythm of War, which returns to the slower pacing of The Way of Kings.

BROKEN HEROES

The Stormlight Archive stands out in how the main characters struggle with trauma and mental illness. Kaladin is crippled by depression. Shallan has split personalities which allow her to escape her horrific past. Dalinar must confront the harsh truth that he was a murderous monster for most of his life, responsible for the death of someone he loved. Watching these broken people overcome their pasts and become better, truly worthy of being Knights Radiant, is inspiring. But it’s also frustrating when they continue to struggle with mental health despite their change in circumstances, even though this is entirely realistic.

This makes up the bulk of Rhythm of War’s core conflicts. Kaladin and Shallan are both increasingly lost in their own minds and must confront the traumas that made them who they are. Navani is raised to a central character as she delves into the mysteries of Stormlight and Voidlight while fighting her own imposter syndrome. I was certain this fourth book would focus on Jasnah after she was crowned queen at the end of Oathbringer. But nope, this time it’s Venli who gets the flashbacks. Through her we take a closer look at how the war with the Parshendi first began, even as she walks the dangerous path of serving the Fused as a Radiant singer.

The book’s more adventurous plotline follows Shallan and Adolin as they return to Shadesmar on a mission to convince the honorspren to join the war effort, even though the long-ago betrayal of the Knights Radiant struck them the hardest and reduced the vast majority of their numbers to ‘deadeyes’, the spren version of the walking dead. I liked the growing bond between Adolin and his Shardblade, Maya, a deadeye herself, along with the increasingly complex interplay between Shallan and her alternate personas. On the other hand, it feels like the author gave her and Adolin short shrift with the husband-and-wife aspect of things. Their wedding happened offscreen, for crying out loud! I don’t know, they’re still sweet and loving towards one another, and he’s remarkably accepting of her split-second personality changes. I guess I was expecting their relationship to evolve once they were married.

Meanwhile, for all his battle prowess as a Radiant, Kaladin has grown increasingly beaten down and internally scarred. Rhythm of War puts him situations where he’s forced to face his past, his depression, and the truth about what holds him back from achieving the Fourth Ideal. Darkness and the struggle to keep fighting were major themes for him in The Way of Kings and Rhythm of War brings them back in spades.

There’s a strong focus on character development in these pages. It's nice to slow down with the characters as they go about the routines of their lives, treating wounds and sketching spren and brushing horses. But what stood out for me was the lack of worldbuilding. Compared to all the unique and interesting locales of earlier books, the settings in this one felt too familiar. Urithiru, Shadesmar, the Shattered Plains, Kholinar, Azir. These are all places we’ve been to before (with some exceptions). Though it is interesting seeing how they’ve changed over time, the settings just don’t feel as groundbreaking as they used to. What happens to our heroes and heroines and yes, villains too, is groundbreaking! Stuff happens, make no mistake. Rhythm of War just takes its sweet time getting there.

It would be remiss of me to leave out the outstanding endpaper portraits of the Heralds and the detailed illustrations throughout the book. The artwork of the Stormlight Archive has always been excellent and it remains so here.

CONCLUSION

Rhythm of War sets up some much larger and more exciting conflicts down the line. Seriously, Book Five is going to be crazy. But Book Four, well. This might just be my least favorite Stormlight title so far. That doesn’t mean it’s bad; none of these books are bad. It’s just outshined by earlier titles.

Rhythm of War was fine. But I have a feeling that the fifth book will be a lot better.

 

The Stormlight Archive, Smartphones, and Rediscovering My Love of Reading

One of my resolutions this year is to read more books.

I was originally going to call this rediscovering my love of fantasy. But that didn’t really fit. I never stopped loving fantasy, all the magic and adventure and exploring new worlds. Likewise, I’ve never stopped reading per se. Looking up the news, reviews and random scrolling has taken up an unfortunate part of my days. It’s left me feeling frazzled and with a poorer memory than ever. I know I wasn’t this bad at remembering things when I was younger. That’s got to be at least partly because I’m so often distracted, unable to focus. 

Technology has changed our lives for the better. But it’s also had myriad side-effects that leave our brains struggling to cope. I don’t like what the constant stream of information has done to me, even as I actively seek it out. Because I want the novelty. It distracts me from things I don’t want to think about. This year, I want to start focusing again.

Today I’m talking about long stories.

Growing up I devoured books. Reading was one of my favourite things to do, pretty much. My childhood was filled with evergreen series like The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter. I adored The Wheel of Time. After reading The Eye of the World at eleven, I spent the next ten years collecting the entire series. (Even New Spring, which wasn’t much of a prequel.) The Sword of Truth was also a favourite during my teens, though those books didn’t age so well. (I only just found out that Terry Goodkind passed away last September, RIP. Another casualty of 2020.) Guy Gavriel Kay was a late discovery; his poetic prose and history-inspired settings were a breath of fresh air. And though The Lord of the Rings threw me at first with its older writing style, I came to love the epic that started it all.

Epic fantasy made me want to be an author. I wanted to write books too! To create fantasy worlds for readers to get lost in. As I got older, though, my tastes began to shift. I branched out into other genres. Popular science, self-help, autobiographies. Traditional classics like Dickens, in all their verbosity. And technology sped up at the same time. I soon had my very own portable communicator in my pocket and could look up whatever information I wanted, whenever I wanted.

Smartphones are a great idea in theory. In practice, I’ve often struggled to put mine down.

Over the years, I started spending more and more time on the internet. You know what I’m talking about. Social media, random browsing, and a shifting cluster of blogs and gaming websites. The amount of time I spent on actual books decreased remarkably. I’ve quit social media in the past, then came back to it over time to keep in touch with people. Was that the right choice? Online communities have been both a bane and boon in my life. I do need to limit it, at any rate.

Anyway. One of the few book series I’ve kept up with is The Stormlight Archive. Written by Brandon Sanderson, the hotshot fantasy author who finished The Wheel of Time after Robert Jordan’s tragic passing, Stormlight is a fascinating epic in its own right. Set in a world wracked by massive hurricanes called highstorms where entire ecosystems have evolved to cope, he spins an ongoing tale of cyclical apocalypses called Desolations and the ancient order known as the Knights Radiant, reviled and long forgotten, who must return to save mankind.

The fourth volume, Rhythm of War, came out late last year. That meant it was high time to reread the first three. (I’m on the third now.) These are big books, people. Rhythm of War has 1,232 pages. It’s downright intimidating how prolific Brandon Sanderson is. And reading them again, I’m reminded of how compelling these stories are.

What really spoke to me about Stormlight was how the main characters are broken, scarred by haunting life experiences which become the foundation for the heroes they must become. When Kaladin feels that on some days everything turns bleak and the light goes out of the world. Where Shallan knows that underneath her intricate illusions of adulthood, the real her is the traumatized little girl she once was. How Dalinar struggles to grow beyond the terrible man he was for much of his life. I felt these things; I could relate. And I’m guessing a lot of other readers felt the same.

Because I’ve often had bouts of bleakness and depression too. There are parts of my past that I don’t talk about either. All too often, I feel torn between my impulses and the person I could be. And following these characters as they face their pasts and their own innate flaws and finally make better choices…it’s one of the most inspiring things I can think of.

This is the power of a good book, and a good story. It makes you want to do better. To be better. To put in the work instead of letting yourself be torn in a million different directions.

Because this isn’t the person I want to be. Always distracted, oblivious and inconsistent. To a certain extent that is me, simply because I’m the kind of person who spends a lot of time in their own head. It’s why I grew up loving books in the first place. But it’s also about the environment I’ve cultivated for myself. It’s about getting off the internet and spending more time reading, and learning, and doing things with intentionality. Not just pulling out my phone and drowning in memes for an hour. Is it any wonder we’re distracted if we’re always seeking out distractions on purpose?

And yet the issue isn’t black and white. Because you know where I read the first book in the series, The Way of Kings? On my phone, as an e-book. It was bloody convenient too. Just as technology has evolved, my reading habits have as well. I still like the feel of a good book, the weight and heft and not having to press a power button. I fully intend to buy Rhythm of War as a paperback. (Maybe a hardback, even.) But the sheer portability of our devices cannot be understated. Back in 2018 while me and my mom were in hospital for her chemo, I read some other Sanderson books, the Mistborn trilogy, by buying them online, downloading them onto my phone, and reading that way. All without ever leaving the hospital ward.

Likewise, there are great websites full of insightful content out there. Mark Manson’s body of work, for one. I haven’t mentioned him yet this year, have I? Wait But Why is another. And I recently started taking free online courses on Coursera. There’s so much knowledge out there for the taking.

Our devices are not inherently good or bad, and neither is the internet. It’s all about how we use them. I love my phone for the connectivity and convenience; I hate it for eroding my attention and sucking up my time like a fire hose in reverse.

Modern technology is amazing. We’ve come so far, made so much progress. Yet the Digital Age has also flooded us with all sorts of useless information: mental junk food. And it’s always available, 24/7. In a world of endless novelty, which are you going to choose? That one, five-hundred-page in-depth novel? Or fifty clickbait web articles and fluffed-up news stories? This year, are you going to start focusing again?

If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to reading Oathbringer.

 

Book Review: Lord of Light

Right, so that last post was enough gloominess for the time being. I’ve got a brand spanking new laptop, which means no more excuses about abominable hardware. I need to get my writing going again. I’m starting here because in contrast to the sustained efforts of fiction writing, blogging comes easily to me. Who doesn’t want to share their thoughts and opinions with the world?

That’s enough mucking around in the preface. On to the review! 

I just finished reading Roger Zelazny’s Lord of Light, what George R. R. Martin called one of the five best SF novels ever written.  

Now, barring the good old Star Wars Expanded Universe books before Disney froze them in carbonite, I haven’t read a lot of classic sci-fi. Fantasy has always been my thing. But while Lord of Light is a sci-fi story, it’s also layered with fantasy elements and tropes to the point where the boundaries blur. To use the proper term, this is science fantasy.

The premise is this: humans have colonized an alien world completely, having conquered or destroyed the native denizens. They have achieved effective immortality through body-swapping, superhuman abilities born of mutation and enhanced with technology. Their power is, dare I say it, godlike.

Unfortunately, they don’t want to share.

The first colonists have set themselves up as gods and goddesses of Hindu mythology and rule the world through religion. In Heaven they live unending lives of hedonism while the world below churns through ages of feudal peasantry. The one soon to be titled Mahasamatman returns from the provinces and sees how his fellow First enforce their divinity, actively suppressing modern advances. Sam is one of the last proponents of Accelerationism, the belief that their technology should be shared with all. Thus he names himself the Buddha and begins a revolution.

How’s that for original.

I’ve yet to read any of Zelazny’s other work. But his writing here is excellent, though hardly straightforward. Much is spoken through metaphor or otherwise implied. Anachronisms abound, clashing with the more lyrical text in unexpected ways. From a device that sends high-frequency prayers into the atmosphere to a goddess describing her Palace of Kama (I don’t need to name the reference here, do I?) as a place of rest, pleasure, holiness and much of her revenue; the setting is unique, but it’s the quality of writing that kept me turning pages. That and the author’s sense of humour. I shan’t ruin any of the puns.

My only complaints are that the introduction of a new character all the way into the third act seems abrupt; and the ending feels rather like the book is walking off into the distance, leaving you behind. There is a very real sense that there are more stories out there, just waiting to be unearthed, if only there were more words on the page.

But I suppose that’s on par for a book that draws so much from myths and legends. Many times throughout his career, Zelazny was offered incentives to write a sequel. He refused them all. He’d told the story he wanted to tell.

Lord of Light is unlike anything else I’ve ever read. It weaves a fantastical, high-tech tale of rebellion, reincarnation and warring gods who aren’t really gods. It’s also colourful, confusing and occasionally hilarious. 

What else can I say? The book is great. Go read it.

The Magic of Making Things – Three Stories of Successful Creativity

It’s the start of a new year, that wonderful time when people set well-meaning resolutions and then drop them like rocks, narrowly missing their toes.

Looking back, most of my goals from last year remain the same. They’ve simply morphed into new forms. Ninety days is too small, a comma in life. This year I’m setting a period. I’m not just aiming to save money now, but to better manage my finances. I’m giving myself a daily budget, not to be exceeded without good reason. And I have to figure out how to be more disciplined with my time, because I’m still one of those people who are five minutes late for everything. 

Last year wasn’t wasted. Far from it. I learned some important lessons, and I realize that now I’m looking at not just goals, but processes. I’m trying to change myself. This year I want to take more interest in my surroundings. To practice mindfulness and meditation. And to nurture my creative side, which is what this post is all about.

Last year I started coloring again. I wanted to get back to my roots, so to speak. I also had the vague idea that I would learn something about discipline and seeing projects through to the end. And I did. I learned I was missing the point.

Discipline is key, don’t get me wrong. But creative pursuits are so much more than a series of tasks. Creativity is about finding the spark that lights your soul on fire. To quote Bohemian Rhapsody: open your eyes, look up to the sky, and see. The world isn’t all black and white and shades of grey.

Life is meant to be filled with colour.

Today I’m talking about the magic of making things. 

 Because it’s about time I sat down and wrote my damn story.

It’s been more than two years now since I first conceived of Wraithblade. Ever since, I’ve worked on it in fits and starts, never getting very far. Recently I’ve been thinking about the creators of the books and games and series I love. What are they doing? What am I not doing? How can I take last year’s lessons and apply them to my writing?

I came to three conclusions.

1. I need to work harder.

To make anything of quality, one thing is clear: you have to put in an astonishing amount of work.

The manga artist behind Full Metal Alchemist, Hiromu Arakawa, grew up in a farming community. At an early age, she learned the value of hard work, balancing farm chores, drawing and art classes for years before finally moving to Tokyo to pursue her dreams of a career as a mangaka.

Although I never read the manga, Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood was the best anime I’d ever seen. Two brothers, one with a mechanical arm and leg, the other a soul bound to a suit of armor, embark on a journey to regain their former selves. It’s a tale of war, loss, conspiracy and mortality amid a steampunk world inspired by Europe in the early 20th century, where guns, trains, robotic limbs and alchemical powers exist side by side.

Image credit: Inverse

It was the story that inspired Wraithblade. 

That idea of a duo scarred by the supernatural stuck with me. I imagined a boy with ghostlike powers, and a floating, skeletal spectre who was once a girl. Because I always wondered. What if the Elric brothers really had brought their mother back from the dead?

This is the beauty of creative work: it inspires others. But creativity is nothing without commitment. The flat truth is that I’m just not writing enough. Arakawa-san’s work ethic is inspiring – apparently she was once back at work a few days after giving birth. Intimidating, but inspiring. She drew up a brilliant story. I need to work harder on my own.

2. I need to focus.

I’ve been playing a mobile game called Crashlands.

You play as Flux Dabes, an intergalactic courier whose ship is shot down over an unexplored planet. Together with her robot sidekick, you must forage for materials, battle alien wildlife, build new equipment and help out the locals in order to survive, thrive and get those shipments back on track. It’s a sprawling adventure with hilarious dialogue, equal parts crafting and action-RPG. It even won a few Game of the Year awards back in 2016. 

Who, me?

What inspired me about the game, though, was the story behind it.

Crashlands was the work of three brothers. The Costers were young, independent game developers who made fun-but-forgettable mobile games. They’d just started turning a profit when disaster struck. Sam Coster was diagnosed with cancer, non-Hodkin’s Lymphoma, stage 4b. He was twenty-three.

It changed things. Their latest project was now unfulfilling. After the diagnosis, Sam told his brother, “I don’t want this to be the last game I make before I die.”

In contrast to their earlier titles, Crashlands was a vast undertaking, an entire world inspired by the likes of Pokémon and Diablo. This wasn’t about building a platform or making money. It was about making something that mattered. A triumph of creativity and imagination. And so despite the rigors of chemotherapy, from his hospital bed, Sam would fire up his laptop to write and draw. The game is noticeably upbeat, filled with silly jokes and nonsensical scenarios. This is escapism as it’s meant to be: an escape from a much darker reality.

I’ve already had a taste of how death clarifies things. You see what really matters. The second flat truth is that I’m too distracted. Social media, video games, and even blogging are all activities that have to take a backseat to what I want to accomplish. I have to be focused. Who’s to say how long I’ll have the chance.

Sam Coster made a game while battling cancer. What’s my excuse?

3. I need to believe in magic.

I've just finished Oathbringer, third book in the Stormlight Archive. The saga of the Knights Radiant is excellent, full of unexpected twists, complex characters and subverted fantasy tropes, with plenty of real world issues on display. The world of Roshar is wonderfully alien, full of imaginative flora and fauna.

Shallan in Words of Radiance.

Have you heard of Brandon Sanderson? I’m sure I’ve mentioned him a few dozen times.

This level of skill doesn’t blossom overnight. In his twenties, Sanderson took a job as a night clerk just so he’d have time to write. He spent years churning out mediocre books before finally getting published. It was finishing the Wheel of Time that propelled him to stardom, but since then he’s proven himself a master in his own right. He teaches creative writing at Brigham Young University.

Clearly, he has focus and commitment. And something else, a third, crucial element that all of the best creators share. What drives someone to make that kind of effort in the first place?

They believe in what they’re doing.

A major aspect of Stormlight is the concept of spren. Obviously inspired by faeries, spren embody elements, emotions and ideals. Windspren are tiny silver figures flying on the breeze. Gloryspren are golden orbs that shoot up around a person who has accomplished something. Painspren are disembodied hands crawling around a wound. There are dozens of species, of varied power and intelligence, many as ubiquitous as insects.

Among them are the creationspren: glowing spren which only appear for a skilled act of creation, like drawing or carpentry. The characters take them for granted, but the idea spoke to me. A magical embodiment of creation.

Because you see, I lost the magic.

I remember thinking of drawing as drudgery, hours of effort for a single picture. I realize now that I viewed my story in much the same way – too much work for a limited payoff. It wasn’t being lazy per se. I just didn’t see the point. I admired others’ artwork, got lost in their fantasy worlds. Yet I stopped believing in my own. Somewhere in my daily routines and distractions, the magic slipped away.

If you don’t take joy in what you do, then why are you doing it? If you can’t find pride and purpose in your actions, what’s the point?

Where’s the color in your life?

I realize now that dreams don’t die of failure. They die from a lack of faith. We get tired, distracted, caught up in worldly struggles. And so the magic is lost. We stop believing in dreams. We forget why we ever believed in the first place, resigning ourselves to a mundane reality. So long, the end.

How many of our younger selves would be proud of the people we’ve grown up to be?

I think the most inspiring thing I can tell you is that we can get the magic back. I have. I found it in artwork. Now I hope to find it in my story too.

At the very least, I know the magic is out there. And that’s a start.

***

I’ve always loved magic. Seeing the extraordinary in ordinary things, finding the light in the darkness. I’ve always wanted to share that with others. Imagination and inspiration, the two focal points of my highly eclectic blog.

For now, I’ll be cutting down on the essay-length posts to focus on my goals. There are so many things I want to talk about. Books and games and movies and life lessons. Stories, real and imagined. But I only have so much time. I have to start using it wisely. If you’ve followed me this far, thanks for reading.

Don’t worry, this isn’t goodbye. It’s see you later. I’ll be back now and then.

How else am I going to show you the world in color?

30 Things That Make Me Happy

So this started out as a challenge on Habitica: every day in November, write down one thing that made you happy. This was easier on some days, harder on others. But it’s been a good exercise in mindfulness. I think I’ll keep doing it. All too often, we focus on the gloom in our lives. This has been a way to keep track of the bright spots – a reminder that it’s the little things that truly matter.

There's more than thirty things. Deal with it.

1 – Unexpected morning messages, just when I needed them.

2 – Photos with friends; making memories.

3 – Lunch with Japanese friends. Travel anecdotes, favorite anime and how live-action adaptations always suck.

4 – Going formal on the spur of the moment. What’s life without a little carpe diem.

5 – Using a water jet on algae-covered concrete. Trust me, it’s very satisfying.

6 – Finding out a complex problem is finally on its way toward resolution. Suddenly the possibilities unfold. The future looks brighter.

7 – Spending time with my mom. Appreciate your parents while you can.

8 – Reading a great fantasy novel. Brandon Sanderson is the man.

9 – In a roundabout way, being inspired to work on my own fantasy novel. I realized that Brandon Sanderson and I actually have something in common: we both have favorite themes, which tend to recur in what we write. Successful people can be intimidating, until you realize they’re not that much different from you.

10 – Watching clouds drift lazily by, and the shadows they cast over distant hills, and green trees swaying in the breeze, and flocks of birds swooping in the sunlight. Knowing there’s an entire world out there, and it’s so much bigger than we are.

11 – Running around playing with hornbills. My job can be exciting sometimes.

12 – Discovering new music. Rock, man. Getting back to the sounds of my adolescence. My Chemical Romance might be broken up, but Sum 41 is still going strong.

Also falling asleep wrapped in something warm, listening to the sound of heavy rain.

13 – Being creative. Working on Wraithblade and coloring. Helps take you away from life’s problems.

14 – After explaining how our young hornbill was rescued, being told by tourists, Thank you for everything you do here.

Also an encouraging letter from my dad.

15 – Kittens! This list would not be complete without cats.

16 – Having a fun conversation with a complete stranger. Once I would have had no idea how to do this.

17 – Reading another good fantasy novel, which I won't link to because spoilers. Go read the first one.

18 – The thrill of applause. It’s fun acting like a frightened tourist wrapped in a python, and then carrying it out with complete nonchalance afterwards.

19 – Wandering around a nice shopping mall by myself. It can be fun doing things alone. You feel free.

20 – The ‘aha’ moment when you realize what you just read applies to you, and you now understand yourself just a little bit better. Mark Manson, yo. He’s good.

21 – Further advances in said problem.

22 – After a long work week, having time to sit back and read.

23 – Thinking about what I want to study in future, and the blended fear and excitement of knowing I’m on my way there.

24 – A long talk about life and love with someone who understands.

25 – Taking a positive step towards my own self-improvement, and feeling motivated because of it.

Also an old friend dropping by at work. Always nice when that happens.

26 – Cuddling one of our friendliest macaws. It’s fun working with animals.

27 – Successful Christmas shopping; getting out of my comfort zone. It’s easy to forget that you must first have no idea what you’re doing in order to get better at knowing what you’re doing.

28 – Knowing I’m coming to terms with the way things are, and moving forwards.

Also simple banter and laughing over nonsense. Some things aren’t all doom and gloom.

29 – Randomly seeing a dog on a shop counter, doing a double take and going inside to pet it. What? I like dogs too.

30 – Spending time with my family. They might get on your nerves sometimes, but if you have people who love you, you’re richer than you think.

December 1 – Bonus entry! Finishing a video game I’ve been meaning to get to for ages.

Really long review coming soon.

Also talking things out with a friend. Catharsis is important. No matter how complicated life gets, everyone needs someone who cares.

And also making people look up what catharsis means.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

The Path That Can't Be Seen

'Sometimes life is hard, but sometimes we make it harder than it really is.'

When I was younger, I wanted to be the cool kid.

You know how it goes. Just like the hero of every teen movie ever made, I wanted to be that guy. The one who makes the best jokes, dates the cutest girls and has a brimming social life. The one who’s funny, confident and popular. I wanted to be the life of the party.

Because I wasn’t any of these things.

Instead I was awkward and insecure, uncomfortable in social settings. I was quiet. I stayed home a lot. I felt like I was missing out, that life was passing me by. I dreamed about being someone else.

That was then. Now I’m well into my twenties, and I’ve grown up a little. When I look back on my younger self, it’s with a mixture of curiosity and pity. Because I am more confident now. I’m funny, at least some of the time. I have a busier life, and more friends.

I still get awkward and insecure. But I’m also well-meaning and sincere. I’m still quiet, because I think deep thoughts. Sometimes I even write them down. I work entirely too slow because I want things done well. Social settings wear me out, but I’m fine talking all night with just one or two people. I read books, play games, drink too much milk tea. And I love cats, of all shapes and sizes.

I’m a work in progress. Aren’t we all? 

But I don’t want to be someone else anymore. I like who I am.

I’m never going to be the life of the party. And that’s okay.

Today I’m talking about expectations versus reality.

We all have our own beliefs about how life is supposed to go. They may have come from our parents, our upbringing, our religion, our peers. What we never had and wanted, or what we had and took for granted. Each of us views the world in our own unique way. It’s only natural. 

But sometimes those beliefs hold us back. We think that because we don’t live up to a certain standard, our lives are doomed to failure. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Let’s start with the demons.

In his excellent book, David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits and the Art of Battling Giants, Malcolm Gladwell discusses how the giants in our lives aren’t as overpowering as we assume. David and Goliath is held up as the original underdog story. But it doesn’t make sense. Goliath was bigger and stronger, true. But David was quick and had good aim. He used a sling and cracked Goliath’s skull. It’s the difference between a sword fight and shooting someone. Was it really so improbable that David won?

David was a shepherd boy, not a warrior. He didn’t live up to Goliath’s standard, and didn’t need to. He won because he fought on his own terms. He defied a demon.

What are your demons? 

What makes your heart pound, and your stomach clench, and your hands tremble? What makes you angry and bitter and sad and afraid? What are you running from, but can never escape? They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but what if it breaks you instead?

What makes you want to be someone else?

It’s hard to face these things. Trust me, I know. But for better or worse, our struggle makes us who we are. The demons in our lives can define us – or we can defy them. You might even find they’re not as overwhelming as they seem. 

I know it’s hard. But look your demons in the eye.

Be brave when you’re afraid.

Moving on. Adversity is just one area where we’re so often wrong. Another is romance.

For example, Disney.

Confused?

Don’t get me wrong. I like Disney. Who doesn’t have fond memories of their movies1 growing up? The magic and adventure, pathos and laughter. And the romance. Perfect guy meets perfect girl, they overcome their one great hardship, and once the credits roll, the young couple is off living their happily ever after.

Sorry to rain on your parade – but happily ever after doesn’t exist. 

Classic Disney is filled with heavily romanticized notions of true love conquering all, flawless figures, and princes coming to sweep the princesses off their feet. Impressionable children grow up thinking this is what love looks like. But it isn’t. 

Real love is messier, full of ups and downs, conflicts and misunderstandings, ever-shifting emotions. Passion fades and feelings change. Actually making it all last requires hard work and commitment. Relationships end when a couple gives up, thinking this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. 

But it is. It’s their idea of love which is wrong.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, pornography does something similar. It depicts a distorted, hypersexualized view of the world which isn’t real. Not to say Disney and Brazzers are on the same level, porn is far more damaging. But they both have the wrong effect on impressionable young minds.2 

To be fair, Disney is evolving with the times. In Frozen, the perfect guy is too good to be true, and familial love is just as important as romantic love. Inside Out has an insightful, bittersweet ending. Moana is (arguably) a princess adventure without any romance at all.

I know it’s not real, you say. But are you sure your beliefs about love are based in reality?

For example, not so long ago, I thought being in love meant feeling warm and fuzzy all the time. Um, no. I believed in love at first sight, not knowing that sometimes a spark needs time to grow. I had a narrow view of what made a woman attractive, only gradually realizing that there’s more than one kind of beauty.

Some are lucky enough to have parents or role models who demonstrate how loving someone really works. But a whole lot of us have to figure it out the hard way. Emotional boundaries, healthy communication, respect and compromise and sexual consent. This is what love is really about – not the idealized fantasy found in popular media. 

Relationships are never perfect. Accepting this is the key to making one work.

It’s understandable how we form these beliefs. We all want order, a sense of how the world works. And this leads to the greatest conflict of all.

Do you believe in destiny?

It’s the question that lies at the heart of faith. Is there a divine order? Are the stars aligned or set against us? Or is it all sheer happenstance, emergent history and culture and human nature interacting which creates the life we live today?

I don’t know. I doubt I ever will. In the end, it comes down to one’s beliefs. Those who believe in God will seek God. Those who believe in science will find facts. Those who believe in disorder will see chaos. Humanity has been asking these questions since the beginning of time.

There is one thing I know for certain: life rarely goes the way we expect.

The ideas you have about yourself will be wrong. You’ll face your fears and be forever changed. You’ll fall in love with someone you never saw coming. You’ll take paths you never imagined you’d take, and do things you never thought you’d have the strength to do. And you’ll learn that sometimes, the hardest part of all is letting go.

I don’t believe everything happens for a reason – but I do believe that there are reasons to be found in everything. It’s up to us to learn from the past, to find meaning in hardship, to strive to be better than before. To fight for what we want. 

And most importantly, to recognize when our prayers are answered in ways we could never have predicted. 

After all. The unseen path could actually lead to something better. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life rarely goes the way we expect.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s a good thing.

1 Off the top of my head, my favorites were Tarzan, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, and more recently, Tangled. What. I liked the lantern scene.

2 Also check out the movie Don Jon for a closer look at porn addiction and unrealistic expectations.

Book Review: The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck

I’ve mentioned before that I like Mark Manson.

A hugely successful blogger and author whose topics range from dating advice and travel anecdotes to psychological self-sabotage, his writing contains a common thread of self-improvement. Mark Manson wants you to be a better person – by accepting what makes you feel worse.

Think of self-help and odds are what you come up with is general optimism and upbeat advice. Think positive; focus on the good; align yourself with the universe, whatever that means. This, Manson argues, is stupid. Everyone gets stressed and depressed, and sometimes life just sucks. Forcing yourself to feel good is avoiding reality. The pursuit of happiness only reinforces that you are unhappy as you are. We rarely have a good idea of what makes us happy anyway.

In The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, Manson explains that we are always, consciously or not, choosing where our focus and energies are directed; what, ahem, we are giving a fuck about. To be better people, that focus must be well-thought-out and intentional. Through entertaining examples and his own personal experience, he shows how faulty values and self-limiting beliefs blind us to what’s truly important.

That sounds bland, but trust me, it’s eye-opening. Funny too. He swears a lot.

‘People aren’t just born not giving a fuck. In fact, we’re born giving way too many fucks. Ever watch a kid cry his eyes out because his hat is the wrong shade of blue? Exactly. Fuck that kid.’

Sorry if you’re offended. I’m amused.

Admittedly, the book is aimed more towards Western society. The author, an American, rails against entitlement and first world problems. Having travelled extensively through over fifty countries worldwide, it’s clear that all those different cultures made an impact. He’s been critical of America (among other countries) in the past.  

Mark Manson’s irreverent, no-bullshit style isn’t for everyone. Go check out his blog to see if it’s for you. Also, a disclaimer: certain parts of the book are featured articles. A few chapters may sound familiar. But the book does present it all in a cohesive package.

The Subtle Art is an anti-self-help book. It doesn’t want you to feel good. It wants you to think about why you feel bad – and understand that feeling bad is a part of feeling good. Its counterintuitive notions make a lot of sense. The acceptance of a negative experience is a positive experience. Our circumstances aren’t always our fault, but they are always our responsibility. Our bleakest moments can also be the most transformational experiences of our lives.

Light and darkness. See why this book appeals to me?

I fully recommend it.

Sickened

So I’ve just finished reading Sickened: The True Story of a Lost Childhood. It’s not for the faint of heart.

This is the story of Julie Gregory, whose childhood was dominated by her mysterious illness. At her mother’s insistence, they would see doctor after doctor, putting her through tests, dietary restrictions and even surgery. In the end, every physician concluded that there was nothing wrong with her. Julie’s mother would fume at their incompetence, bringing her to still more hospitals and specialists, telling anyone and everyone that her child was sick, dammit. They had to get to the bottom of this.

But the only sickness was in her mother’s mind.

Sickened is a story about a bizarre form of child abuse. Munchausen syndrome refers to a person feigning illness to garner attention and sympathy. Munchausen by proxy (MBP) is doing the same to someone under the perpetrator’s care – typically a spouse or a child. The author describes being told to ‘act sick’ as a child, while her mother lied to doctors about headaches, nausea, fevers, heart problems, and more.

The setting is backcountry America during the 70s and 80s. Julie’s mother is a tragic, manic figure beneath a mask of normality, herself subjected to horrible abuse in adolescence. Her father is saddled with an inferiority complex, violent when enraged and addicted to television. Her younger brother is the only normal one of them. While there are warm and even comical scenes, dysfunction abounds. On their isolated farm in Ohio, foster children and aging war veterans brought in for the government funding they represent are also subject to mistreatment and neglect.

The author’s ‘illness’ is the core of the story, however. As she grows, she is medicated, malnourished, emaciated and overworked with farm chores, all at her mother’s behest. Her schoolwork suffers, with teachers and peers eyeing her as though she could drop dead at any time. The real tragedy is that the author actually wanted to be sick, to gain her mother’s approval. The illness became her identity.

MBP is highly controversial, with good reason. It’s hard to believe a mother could do all this to her child. The first few times the author strikes up the courage to tell others the truth, she is met with scorn and flat disbelief. Only as a young adult, living free of her parents at last, does she begin the slow and painful process of growing beyond the imaginary illness that consumed her life.

Disturbing though they are, stories like this put things in perspective. Despite all my worries, I’ve got it pretty good. Other people’s lives have been far worse than my own.

Sickened is an extreme example of something that I think is, sadly, quite common: growing up convinced there’s something wrong with you. You’re too loud, quiet, fat, thin, quirky, boring. The list could go on forever.

When all along, the only thing wrong with you is the belief that there’s something wrong with you.

I’m not sure whether to recommend the book or not. It’s slim, less than 250 pages. But I don’t think this counts as light reading.

2017: The First Six Weeks

And just like that, it’s February. Where does the time go?  

Well, this will be one of my more random posts. Today I’m talking about my collective thoughts through the first few weeks of 2017.

First, I’ve been reading Brandon Sanderson.

You might remember him as the guy who finished the Wheel of Time. His name wasn’t pulled out of a hat for that. Sanderson was already an accomplished author in his own right, with, at last count, five series of his own, numerous standalone stories, and no signs of slowing down soon.

Examples?

I came across Steelheart over a year ago, a post-apocalyptic superhero story in which there are no heroes, only the villains who destroyed the world. It follows an underground resistance movement of ordinary people, rebelling in a city ruled by Superman – if Superman was evil.

Original, right? Months later, I read the second book, Firefight, on my phone. Still haven’t gotten the final part of the trilogy.

–checks Play Store-

Oh, look! The price has gone down. Sweet. Calamity, here I come.

I’m also definitely reading his Mistborn series at some point. Which is, admittedly, the same setting in fantasy form. The tale of a young thief who becomes the heroine of a fallen world where long ago, the Dark Lord actually won.

That’s just the beginning, though. Apparently his goal here is to advance a fantasy world and civilization technologically, all the way from medieval times to spaceflight. The original trilogy is the medieval part. He’s moved on to something like the Wild West now.

Anyway. Last month I read the first two books in what is already being described as his magnum opus: the Stormlight Archive.

In his own words, this was the story he wanted to tell ever since he was a child. A vast, sweeping epic fantasy. And it is epic.

Long ago, the Knights Radiant protected humanity from the Voidbringers in a cyclical, ever-recurring conflict. They always won, though the cost was great. Then the Radiants forsook their oaths and abandoned mankind, their mystical swords and armor now little more than the spoils of war. Thousands of years have passed. Religion and history agree that the Voidbringers are gone forever.

Now they return. Humanity is oblivious, caught up in petty wars. But the Everstorm is coming. The Knights Radiant must rise again…

Sounds pretty cliché, doesn’t it.

This sort of ancient-evil-impending-apocalypse story is basically the standard for epic fantasy, going all the way back to The Lord of the Rings. Nothing wrong with that, as long as each tale has its own distinct flavor.

And Sanderson delivers his own flavor in spades. The world of Roshar is continually wracked by vast hurricanes called highstorms, and the entire ecosphere has evolved to survive them. Plants withdraw into the ground at any movement. Most animals have hardened carapaces. Wagons are pulled not by horses or cattle, but by giant crustaceans. Yes, really. For contrast, a land protected by encircling mountains exists, with a more familiar ecosystem. Anything out of Shinovar – e.g., grass that doesn’t move – is considered downright bizarre.

There’s also some interesting social structures going on. Slavery is widespread, with a race of black-and red-skinned humanoids, parshmen, doing much of the world’s grunt work. Among humans, racism is culturally ingrained, with social standing based not on skin tone, but on the colour of one’s eyes. The lighteyes are the nobility; the darkeyes, commoners and slaves.

It’s the characters, though, that drive a story. And Sanderson’s are excellent. Kaladin is a broken young man, darkeyed, a surgeon and soldier turned slave. He struggles with bitterness and hatred towards the lighteyes. But his sense of honor and human decency, as well as his natural capabilities as a leader, even as a slave, make him as true a hero as any I’ve seen.

Shallan is a sheltered lighteyed girl, intelligent but naïve, travelling alone for the first time. More layers are revealed over time, however, including more determination than you’d expect, and a tragic childhood. Though I still preferred Kaladin’s storyline, I ended up liking her a lot more than I did at first. Shallan is a bright smile over a dark past, and that made her real in a way only the best authors can pull off.

There are others I’m omitting for brevity. Dalinar, stoic and honorable, is the main reason I’m adding a black-armored guardian to my own story. What? At least I admit it. And Wit gets an honorable mention for sheer wittiness.

I thoroughly recommend the Archive, if you’re the sort of person who looks at thousand-page fantasy novels with eagerness. Like me. It’s an epic story, and this is just the beginning. The third book is still a long way away. I can’t wait.

Secondly – I’ve developed an interest in foreign affairs.

Well, ‘foreign’ is a matter for debate.

This is kind of a rant. Bear with me.

I’ve never been a patriot of any kind. I don’t really identify with a single culture, or a single country. I was born in the United States of America. I’ve grown up in Malaysia. I still have the accent, and tend to describe things with color, not colour. I also swear in Malay, and once found it strange that some parts of the world don’t eat rice every night.

Every now and then, I’ll be referred to as the white guy. Back in the US, I still remember a little girl in school calling me Asian. Ah, those were the days.

The dichotomy of it all used to bother me. Now I embrace it. I like being a mix of countries, of cultures. I like being both.

But I am, at least in part, American.

And as an American, I have to say – I don’t think much of Donald Trump.

I couldn’t believe he’d actually won the election. His message of prejudice and racism, of us against them, is exactly the sort of thing I would stand against. The man has no political experience whatsoever, throws tantrums on Twitter, and has a well-documented record of creative interpretations of the truth bullshit. The recent travel ban fiasco seems fairly representative of his behavior: impulsive, ignorant and rooted in xenophobia.

To be fair, a country does have the right to close its borders – if there was any evidence the people being barred were an actual threat. If my mother hadn’t been allowed into the US, I would never have been born.

So yeah. I’m biased. I’m glad the entire mess was shut down in court, at least for now.

Of course, it’s not just Trump. It’s also his fledgling administration. In part, the travel ban caused chaos because it was poorly implemented. Stories of infighting and failures of communication abound, along with tales that Trump’s own staff are already losing faith in him, even as they struggle to keep up with his insecurities and handle the scandal of the day. Alternative facts? You’ve got to be kidding me. 

These are the people running one of the most powerful countries in the world?

*deep breath*

Maybe this is hypocritical of me. I never took an interest in American politics before. It’s only three weeks into the presidency. Maybe the people under him will improve; that’s possible. Maybe Trump himself will improve. I doubt it.

It’s important to remember that around half of the country did elect him, seeing him as an agent of change. Fair enough. I’m an outsider looking in. I don’t know how it’s been over there. I just wonder if these are the kinds of changes they had in mind.

It’s all rather disillusioning. I remember when I was younger, I looked at the US and saw a golden glow, freedom and opportunity, amber waves of grain and all that. I don’t see it that way anymore. I don’t think the rest of the world does either. The United States aren’t exactly united, are they. If anything, they’re more divided than ever.

Well, moving on.

Thirdly – I need to set some goals this year.

I wasn’t entirely unproductive in 2016. *points to blog archive* That said, I could have gotten more done if I’d been more focused and organized. These are not New Year’s resolutions, because those are generally doomed to failure. They’re goals, which just happen to take place in the New Year. Completely different.

1. Better time management.

I prefer to take my time. I dislike rushing. Ironically, I’m also one of those people who tend to be five minutes late for everything. There has to be a balance.

I do have some ideas about how to find it. Stronger priorities, and less distractions. I did take some tentative steps towards this last year. Sorry, Hearthstone. I love my games, but you’re just too addictive. Reading, writing, relationships and yes, gaming (in moderation), are priorities. Mindlessly scrolling Instagram whenever I’m bored is not.

Despite the six-day work week, I do have time. I just need to utilize it effectively.

2. Finish Wraithblade.

I only have so much writing time, so I will, by necessity, be cutting down on the blog posts. Maybe only one a month or something.

I left the story hanging on Chapter Seven for months last year. I was stuck, and again, letting myself get distracted. But one thing I’ve learned about writing is that if you push through your own disinterest, something will eventually interest you, leading to more writing, and more interest, etc, etc. You are your own motivation.

And you have to be. Creative people the world over know that you can’t wait for inspiration. You get to work, and the inspiration follows. Keep putting your dreams off until tomorrow, and someday there won’t be any more tomorrows. Frightening, isn’t it.

So I need to get to work. What I just said about recapturing your own interest is true. I got unstuck, and know what happens next. For a few more chapters, at least.

Oh, you’re just joining us? Here’s the first chapter, and yes, I wrote it that long ago. Any thoughts are welcome.

3. Ninety days.

This one’s personal.

One day at a time.

4. Save more money.

I can afford more.

This is probably the easiest goal, really, since I was already saving money – if not quite so much.

I can afford it, though. Being debt-free is easy to take for granted. I pay for food, utilities, bus fare. And that’s it. All my expenses. Being single and financially unencumbered does have its advantages.

Now is the time to save money – while I have it.

5. Put on weight?

Okay. This one might be tricky.

I’ve mentioned my metabolism before. Just the other night, someone called me a scarecrow. Ha ha. The night before that, someone else called it a gift and a curse – which is accurate. I’ve already started working out at home a few times a week. But is it enough?

I’m reluctant to commit to supplements, because saving money. That stuff is expensive. I’m reluctant to hit the gym, because of the extra time required. I finish work late enough as it is.

And most importantly – I’m not sure how much strength I have to spare. My job isn’t exhausting, but it’s not sedentary, either. I spend a fair amount of time each day on my feet. I’m always tired by evening. I’m tired right now. That line about working people having money and energy, but no time, isn’t necessarily true. I still have time. I’m not so sure about energy.

Maybe bulking up is aiming too high. I’ll settle for getting more fit.

And lastly.

I was walking down the road one morning, not long ago. I was thinking about something. About someone. 

Or rather, I’d worn myself out thinking about it, over the last few days. I do that sometimes. It’s exhausting. Then a thought occurred to me: walking down the road is inherently dangerous.

There are giant chunks of metal speeding along right next to you. Not safe. A single swerve could make you an unfortunate statistic.

But I don’t think about it. I’m aware of the danger, sure. I look both ways, stay outside the lines. I believe I’ll reach my destination. And I do. Life’s like that, don’t you think? We do what we can, and trust that we’ll get where we’re going. Either we will or we won't. It really is that simple. Or it should be.

But we have all these doubts and insecurities, and what should be simple gets complicated. We obsess over what we’re doing, and not doing, and should be doing. Our greatest fears run rampant in our minds. And we worry.

Here’s what I realized that morning. Spending your life worrying is like walking down the road thinking, I’m going to get hit by a car, I’m going to get hit by a car, I’m going to get hit by a car.

It’s pointless.

At best, you’re trading peace of mind for tunnel vision. At worst, walking down the road while keeping a close eye on every car means you fall in a sewer and drown.

Don’t laugh, it could happen.

See what I’m getting at? Overthinking creates problems that never existed in the first place. It's a useless and dangerous distraction. 

It might seem complicated, but maybe life is simpler than it looks. 

To get where we want to go, we take the steps we can see. 

For the people we care about, and who care about us. Who make us smile, and laugh, and somehow make life brighter - 

We hold on to them.

Even if we don’t know how it’ll all work out in the end –  

Maybe we just need to have a little faith.