A Dramatic Turn of Events - Dream Theater

A Dramatic Turn of Events (Dream Theater, 2011)

1. On the Backs of Angels - 8:42

2. Build Me Up, Break Me Down - 6:59

3. Lost, Not Forgotten - 10:11

4. This Is the Life - 6:57
5. Bridges in the Sky - 11:01
6. Outcry - 11:24
7. Far from Heaven - 3:56
8. Breaking All Illusions - 12:25
9. Beneath the Surface - 5:26

It's been a long wait for the next unqualified triumph from Dream Theater. Not since 2002's Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence have the boys released such a consistently impressive, melodic, and creative album that I can recommend without hesitation.  Train of Thought (2003) was strong but very heavy, Octavarium (2005) was a bit tentative and restrained, Systematic Chaos (2007) was embarrassingly bad with its fantasy/vampire/end times lyrical conceits, and, while 2009's Black Clouds and Silver Linings recaptured some of the instrumental glory, there were too many incorrect vocal choices.  (If you're going to do the Cookie Monster death-metal growl, it doesn't really go with words like "BY THE GRACE OF GOD, EVERYONE SURVIVED.  BWARAARAHAGHAEAH!!!"

A Dramatic Turn of Events, like other great Dream Theater albums before it, successfully marries progressive rock, hard rock, metal, classical, and wild experimentation with some mind-blowing playing from John Petrucci (guitar), Jordan Rudess (keyboard), John Myung (6-string bass), and newcomer Mike Mangini (drums). James LaBrie is in good voice throughout, which is also a plus. The solos are memorable, the instrumental sections are very challenging, and the songs include enough melody and emotion to make this real music and not a show-off session.

I could wax eloquent on every track, but I'll confine myself to what I believe are the weakest and strongest songs. The weakest in my opinion is "Build Me Up, Break Me Down," and this is perhaps because it's not my cup of tea. The chorus is one of the heaviest in the band's catalog, and it's kind of a whiny song directed against fans who find fault in the music. (So I guess it's a song just for me!  Aw, gee that's nice...)  However, the instrumental bridge includes some impressive neo-classical pyrotechnics from Petrucci and Rudess playing in tandem, as only they can.

The strongest song is the longest song, "Breaking All Illusions".  Charging out of the gate with an intense harmonized lead in some unholy alternation of 8's, 5's, 6's, 4's, and who knows what else (I thought we were in 17/8 time for awhile, but then they changed it and I gave up counting), it calms down for a much more relaxed and "natural" 7-6-5-7 groove of bass and drums, with tasteful counter-melodies from guitar supporting a calm vocal. This builds into a soaring chorus, then dives headfirst into the most exciting, bracing, genre-hopping, turn-on-a-dime extended instrumental section this side of Scenes From A Memory.  (I tried to think of a non-Dream Theater comparison here, but it just doesn't exist...) Baroque organ, jazz fusion guitar, disco beat, gnarled bass/drum breaks, and fist-pumping rock coalesce into a progressive sunburst then fade into an emotive bass- and organ-backed guitar solo in which Petrucci plays his heart out. This transitions into another full-band time-bending progressive instrumental section, and then it's back to the vocals for a soaring finale. Delicious.

It's one thing to play virtuoso solos and difficult composed pieces.  It's another thing to fold that kind of complexity and stunning technical ability into genuinely exciting and moving music.  Dream Theater has succeeded at that more times than anyone has a right to, and they succeed at it again on A Dramatic Turn of Events.

Arbitrary rating: 5 out of 5 progressive sunbursts

Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury

Fahrenheit 451 (Bradbury, 1953)

Another classic I had never read, Bradbury's book-burning sci-fi is deservedly acclaimed worldwide as a prescient cautionary tale of authoritarianism, censorship, and disconnection.  A good portion of human history and culture has been either lost or rewritten to keep the people under control, but the people don't care as they spend their days pursuing ever shorter and cheaper pleasures, entranced by technological entertainment while losing track of the more meaningful ideas and relationships in life.

Really, this book isn't about censorship as much as it is about a lost heritage.  The America Bradbury envisions (which is uncomfortably descriptive of our present day) is an America that doesn't value religion, art, history, philosophy, literature, or anything that might disrupt the daily pursuit of happiness in the form of the latest television program, fireworks show, or personal music stream. There is even a device called the Seashell which could easily be renamed the iPod, and another called the "parlor walls" that are essentially wall-size, semi-interactive TVs (home theater, anyone?). But it's not so much a fear of technology for technology's sake - with the advent of mass media, Bradbury predicted that art would drop to the lowest common denominator and only skim the surface of human experience, keeping people constantly distracted, their attention divided between many different mosquitos buzzing in the ears, flooded with information yet gathering no knowledge, with not enough time to sit and talk, to think quietly, or to spend more than thirty minutes on something before giving it up.

There are a few missteps for me. First, the book, though 175 pages long, is still pretty short.  Things happen so fast that we don't get as much character development as I would like - it seems kind of rushed. Second, Bradbury has a few passages where he tries to be Joyce or Faulkner and go stream-of-consciousness on us, with mixed success.  Finally, though I don't think he crosses this line, he dances dangerously close to the edge of intellectual elitism, or "the teeming masses are too dumb to appreciate fine art." However, these are minor quibbles in a book that is fairly on target.

Arbitrary rating: 4 out of 5 parlor walls

The Little Prince - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The Little Prince (Saint-Exupéry, 1943)

I've always known of this book as a beloved children's story, but I had never read it. A powerful allegory of life, death, imagination, and the soul, this one had me crying all through the last several pages.

It starts as a very playful, fanciful story: the adult narrator is disillusioned with the world of grown-ups, because whenever he shows them a picture he drew of a boa constrictor that had eaten an elephant, everyone thinks it is a hat. But one day, when he crashes his plane in the Sahara, he encounters a little boy in the middle of the desert who not only recognizes the drawing for what it is, but claims he came from an asteroid. As the narrator gets to know the boy more, he pieces together his history.

Unfortunately, the little prince's story is not without sadness. He has left behind a rose he cares about very much, and his travels since then have left him lost on the Earth, a planet much larger and more bewildering than the asteroids he is used to.

The strongest part of the book (other than the poignant ending) tells how the little prince tamed a fox, at the fox's request.  As the fox pleads to be tamed, he delivers one of the most poetic discourses on love and friendship I have ever read:

"Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat..."

The Little Prince is about what truly matters in life - while the men the boy encounters are all rushing about concerned with "matters of consequence" such as buying and selling, doing jobs, ruling, running, and going back and forth, the fox tells the prince, "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly: what is essential is invisible to the eye." The love between eternal souls shines sadly in this moving, personal allegory, the last work Saint-Exupéry wrote before his plane disappeared in World War II.

Arbitrary rating: 5 out of 5 matters of consequence

The Ale Boy's Feast - Jeffrey Overstreet

The Ale Boy's Feast (Overstreet, 2011)

The kingdoms of the Expanse are crumbling fast.  As new and more violent threats come out of the Cent Regus core, animals disappear from the wild, and people flee to ancient strongholds in hopes of starting anew. Meanwhile, the courageous ale boy of House Abascar is leading the human prisoners of the beastmen on an underground escape, in the course of which he will discover the source of this disintegrating world's troubles.

The Ale Boy's Feast brings the story of Auralia, Cal-Raven, and Cyndere to an ultimately satisfying end, though not all questions are completely answered, and it also hints at a new beginning.  The book deals with death, parting, and homecoming in very moving ways, as the characters balance an increasingly intense struggle for physical survival with nurturing a faith in things unseen.

The book has to cover so much narrative ground that it doesn't get to develop any particular story arc as fully as it could be. However, the juggling act is still fairly successful in covering enough bases to move the stories onward and keep the reader's interest. As the characters are continually disappointed in their hopes and plans in the world, their faith in the Keeper points them to something greater, something beyond their imagining, something truly and permanently "home".

Arbitrary rating: 4 out of 5 disintegrating worlds

Raven's Ladder - Jeffrey Overstreet

Raven's Ladder (Overstreet, 2010)

Raven's Ladder, the third book in the Auralia series, picks up where Cyndere's Midnight left off. The remnant of House Abascar is seeking a safe haven, King Cal-Raven is looking for direction, and the land is slowly falling victim to a new threat from Cent Regus.  Meanwhile, the Seers in House Bel Amica are plotting to seize control of all the kingdoms of the land.

The narrative focuses mostly on the events surrounding Cal-Raven and House Abascar, though when they flee to Bel Amica for refuge, Cyndere's story is intertwined neatly. Cal-Raven's faith in the Keeper, the creature who visits children in their dreams but whose existence is denied by all intelligent adults, keeps him balanced precariously on his people's good will, some tolerating his belief, others secretly despising it. His own faith is dramatically affirmed, then brutally challenged in the course of the story.

At this point in the series, the enemy has changed several times.  In Auralia's Colors, the enemy is King Cal-Marcus of Abascar, and perhaps a few roving beastmen. In Cyndere's Midnight, the beastmen take center stage as a very real threat.  Yet in Raven's Ladder, the Cent Regus feelers, burrowing through the earth and destroying any creatures they can find, make the beastmen seem inconsequential.  And hovering over it all are the Seers, with their inhuman masks and moon-worship.  We get the feeling there is a lot going wrong with the world, and it is increasingly getting worse.  We also get the feeling that the Keeper represents some sort of forgotten hope. In Raven's Ladder, the history and mythology of this world is explored more deeply, and the stage is set for the final act.

Arbitrary rating: 4 out of 5 inhuman masks

Cyndere's Midnight - Jeffrey Overstreet

Cyndere's Midnight (Overstreet, 2008)

Thankfully, in the second book of the Auralia series, Overstreet's writing either improved a lot, or he got a heartless editor.  The narrative pratfalls are almost completely absent, and in their place is a beautiful yet economic prose style that is original Overstreet, instead of knock-off Tolkein.

The story and characters are better this time around, too.  The beastmen, which were nameless, faceless threats in Auralia's Colors, become real characters, men of the fallen House Cent Regus who have been transformed through evil, powerful magic.  Cyndere, heir of House Bel Amica, sets out with her husband to bring the beastmen back into the fold of humanity, but one particular beastman named Jordam has already started the journey home, thanks to the time he spent admiring the art of Auralia.

Jordam is probably the most powerful character in the book. Good and evil wrestle inside him, with his violent brothers and the Cent Regus curse urging him on to hatred and murder while Cyndere and the lingering influence of Auralia call him toward redemption. However, all the characters are engaging, and the plot has great action and depth, topped off with a stirring battle for survival between House Abascar and a beastman uprising.  The story begun in Auralia's Colors takes a satisfying turn in Cyndere's Midnight.

Arbitrary rating: 4.5 out of 5 homeward-bound beastmen

Auralia's Colors - Jeffrey Overstreet

Auralia's Colors (Overstreet, 2007)

A mysterious child found in the wilderness is raised by outsiders and lives freely in the forest, creating art from all she finds. When she presents her masterpiece to the king of House Abascar, who has ordered all beautiful things locked up in the royal treasury, it sets off a cataclysmic string of events.

There is a lot to like in this, the first installment of the Auralia fantasy series. We have an oppressive law, a rigidly stratified kingdom, a mythology believed by children but dismissed by (most) adults, and an irrepressible artist whose work stirs unrest in the people's hearts. The characters and events gradually draw you in, then take hold and keep you rushing toward the end.

However, this book also ticks an unhealthy number of boxes on my Bad Fantasy check list.

1. Leaden-eared Tolkein Imitation: Not everyone can write beautiful, poetic prose like Tolkein. It's nothing to be ashamed of, just accept it and move on with your story, instead of trying again and again...
2. Unnecessarily Made Up Words: Why call it a "pickerstaff" when there is already a perfectly serviceable (and old-timey) word available in "pike"?
3. Embarrassing Vernacular:  "What do you reckon we should be a-doin'?"
4. Cheap Attempts at Endearing Humor/Characters:  "I sure agree with ya there." "You don't have to agree with me all the time." "I sure agree with ya there."
5. Unoriginal Original Names: The River Throanscall, King Cal-Marcus, House Bel Amica - look how creative I am at making up original names!  Just watch out, I might invent a whole language for my world! (Again with the Tolkein imitation...)

There are also a disturbing number of violations of basic writing rules and grammar, mostly in the attempts at Tolkein imitation.  In one passage, Auralia is described metaphorically as a tree, yet in the same sentence, she is described as literally clutching twigs in her "fisting" (see # 2 above) fingers.  Wouldn't her fingers be twigs in the metaphor?  Why is she holding actual twigs?  Is each of her fingers forming a fist in and of itself?  In another passage, a cat is described with "glowing green eyes shut tight."  If they're shut, they definitely aren't glowing, unless this cat has clear eyelids and we just neglected to mention that detail...

Okay, enough jabs. The book is worth reading, despite the poor writing. It has a very good message about art pointing us toward greater truth, about the human need to create, and about the fragility of what is created. And after the characters become a little more fleshed out, you just get caught up in the story, which is the best reason to read a book anyway.

Arbitrary rating: 3 out of 5 fisting fingers

Moll Flanders - Daniel Defoe

The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders (Defoe, 1722)

After reading a classic, there are many routes to follow, mostly academic.  Is this a religious book?  A feminist book?  A guilty pleasure (by eighteenth century standards)?  A didactic tome of moral cautionary tales?  Was Defoe ahead of his time or behind it? 

Since we're not in a lit class, I'm just going to talk about the story, which is quite good, and the writing, which is high quality prose, even including the editorial asides.  Defoe presents it as a true story, cleaned up from Moll's original notes (which he hints are decidedly more colorful in language and content) for the purpose of highlighting right living by showing where she went wrong. However, Moll is no mere cardboard cutout - we are treated to a rich story of survival, misfortune, rationalization and repentence in a society where deadly poverty lurks after an unmarried, unmonied woman.

The rationalizations are probably the best part of the book.  When she marries a man for security, she proclaims she was never anything but a good wife to him, and when she prostitutes herself, she stresses her need for the money and sets herself above women who do it for fun.  When she turns to thievery, we see her modify her goals: first she'll quit after she gets ₤200, then after ₤400... Moll takes responsibility for her actions for the most part, but sometimes blames her circumstances, or her upbringing, or the English legal system. For a fairly straightforward realist, Defoe adds a lot in between the lines to reveal a full psychological portrait.

One of the most bizarre elements of the book is all the children she has, and how they all disappear.  If she marries up, the kids go to the husband's family after he inevitably dies. If she has a child out of wedlock, the father arranges for the child to be raised elsewhere. At one point, she pays to have a child raised by a family in the country.  She must have seven or eight children, but in the end she only reunites and reconciles with one of them (at which she claims great tenderness of heart). We're never sure whether she is really heartbroken by losing her children, or whether she is just glad to get them off her hands.

Ultimately, Moll Flanders is a very good read. It tracks the moral arc of a life misspent but redeemed, from youthful ignorance to mercenary marriage, from nervous larceny to bold thievery, from sorrow at being caught to geniune - if imperfect - repentence.

Arbitrary rating: 4 out of 5 unmarried, unmonied women