highly recommended

Empire of Silence – Book Review

April 11, 2021 by hpholo Leave a Comment

I finished reading Empire of Silence a little over a year ago, but it was one of those books that I enjoyed so much, my only reaction at the time was *excited pterodactyl noises.*

(Admittedly, I don’t actually know what an excited pterodactyl sounds like, nor what sort of noise it would make after discovering a new favorite book, but I imagine it would be something like the distinctive gibberish that screeches out of my mouth every time this happens.)

Anyway, now that I’ve had the time to articulate that noise into human words, here goes.

Christopher Ruocchio’s Empire of Silence is an epic space opera that reads like Frank Herbert’s Dune, if Dune were set in Space Rome and if its writing wasn’t as dry as its setting. It follows the young life of Hadrian Marlowe, heir to the Sollan Empire—which, if he is to follow in the footsteps of his father (and under the powerful influence of the Chantry), involves becoming a ruler who maintains his power through fear and torture. Not wanting to rule through atrocity, Hadrian makes an elaborate plan to escape—but his plan goes awry, and while he successfully escapes his future, he tumbles into a life of poverty and violence harsher than anything he’s ever known. And even when he manages to pull himself out of that, it’s into a world of intrigue that’s even more complex than the empire he escaped from…and which points toward even darker ends.

After all, one doesn’t get named “the Sun Eater” without good reason.

This, of course, is a vast oversimplification of everything that takes place in this massive 624-page tome, but that doesn’t matter because, if you like deeply complex epic science fiction, you’re going to read it anyway.

Before you go in, though, you should know it’s not a fast read.

Empire of Silence is a novel that is as much about the inner workings of its world as it is Hadrian’s struggle, and it’s written in a way that asks the reader to savor the world. This is a setting so wildly advanced that social class is defined not only by economic opportunity, but through access to technology and genetic modifications, where the upper classes lean so heavily into artificial modification that they can no longer procreate naturally lest they produce a child with birth defects. Through this (and other details), the novel asks a lot of interesting questions about the future societal implications of extreme human modification. Granted, it’s all peripheral to the heart of Hadrian’s story, but it’s still deeply intriguing.

Just as intriguing, Hadrian’s is also a world where access to specific technologies and even to the depths of human history is regulated by the quasi-religious Chantry, which keeps a stranglehold on even the ruling families of the Sollan Empire and isn’t above using truly medieval techniques to enforce its will (and the ignorance of the people beneath its power). Yet, outside the power of the Chantry and Sollan Empire, there are multifarious other cultures that indulge in these banned technologies and explore those histories. Not to mention the truly otherworldly alien species that show up. Because of this sheer variety—and the inherent conflicts it causes—this is one of the few modern epic sci-fi worlds that actually lives up to the “epic” descriptor. The violence is epic, sure, but so is the sheer sense of scale and wonder that emanates from the page. The contrasts between all these human and alien cultures—and what they show Hadrian about himself and his home empire—make for engrossing reading.

Just not fast reading.

There were indeed moments where I wondered where exactly the story thought it was going—but those moments were immediately dismissed because even when the plot was slow, the artful writing kept me absolutely entranced. I’d almost call this novel literary fiction, except that where most literary writing is merely pretentious, Ruocchio’s writing features frequent gems of unexpected, genuine wisdom. There were more than a few moments where I had to stop reading just to admire a specific turn of phrase or the clever perceptiveness of a single line.

But of course, artful writing—and even an artfully-realized world—is worthless if the characters that inhabit it aren’t interesting, and Hadrian himself is definitely that, though for reasons one might not expect.

Hadrian’s story is a bildungsroman told in the framed style of Patrick Rothfuss’ The Name of The Wind, to draw another popular comparison. Protagonists in these kinds of stories often come across as too-capable or too-perfect (as Kvothe does in NOTW), but if anything, Hadrian is the opposite. While he has his kick-butt, heroic moments, and while he’s certainly capable in his own ways, many of his problems are, in fact, caused by himself. Whether it’s a plan going awry for reasons he should have anticipated, the result of a badly-timed impulse, or some ill-considered curiosity, Hadrian frequently becomes his own worst enemy—and yet does it in a way that keeps the reader rooting for him. Reading about Hadrian’s adventures is very much like watching the exploits of a well-intentioned but occasionally dumb little brother, who you genuinely like but sometimes want to smack in the back of the head. He’s definitely a flawed character, but flawed in the best way. After all, as much as readers enjoy a good, straightforward hero, they do get boring after a while, and even when Hadrian gets himself into stupid situations, they’re situations that make sense in the context of his established character—and, importantly, are fun to read as he works his way out of them. (Or deeper into them. It’s Hadrian, after all.)

However, there are elements of Hadrian’s character that might grate some readers. He’s pretty clearly the sensitive, artsy son in a family that values ferocious jocks (okay, gladiators, but same idea), which inches toward cliché. Also, at its simplest, his struggle is that of the Poor Little Rich Boy feeling oppressed by the responsibilities of his privilege, which is a hard struggle for some readers to take seriously. But also, like…if the unavoidable trappings of my future required me to turn into a despotic trash can of a human being, I’d nope the heck out of there, too. All that said, a reader’s mileage with Hadrian’s story is going to hinge on how much patience they have with his character (and with the storytelling style in general).

But like many things that require patience, this novel is entirely worth it. Eloquently written, exquisitely detailed, and epic in every sense of the word, Empire of Silence deserves to be a new sci-fi classic.

***

Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Grave Mercy – Book Review

December 19, 2020 by hpholo Leave a Comment

Nun assassins, y’all.

I’m not sure why the marketing didn’t just splash that all over the front of Grave Mercy, as once I heard that description, I was all over this book.

For those who need more, here is the description from the book itself:

Escaping from the brutality of an arranged marriage, seventeen-year-old Ismae finds sanctuary at the convent of St. Mortain, where the sisters still serve the gods of old. Here she learns that the god of Death himself has blessed her with dangerous gifts—and a violent destiny. If she chooses to stay at the convent, she will be trained as an assassin and serve as a handmaiden to Death. To claim her new life, she must be willing to take the lives of others.

Ismae’s most important assignment takes her straight into the high court of Brittany, where she must pose as mistress to the darkly mysterious Gavriel Duval, who has fallen under a cloud of suspicion. Once there, she finds herself woefully under prepared—not only for the deadly games of love and intrigue, but for the impossible choices she must make. For how can she deliver Death’s vengeance upon a target who, against her will, has stolen her heart?

Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers, the first in the His Fair Assassin trilogy, is possibly one of the finest kick-butt-girl-assassin books out there. It’s high on action, drama, strong-but-not-stereotypical heroines, and lack-of-love-triangles—and the one romance that it does develop emerges slowly and believably. Add it to your reading list now, but if you need more reasons why you should, read on:

Despite its length (a hefty 549 pages), Grave Mercy is an astonishingly quick read. The chapters are short and nearly always end with a cliffhanger or similarly intriguing bit of information. The plot itself, too, carefully balances the machinations of court drama with the violent clashes that readers expect of assassin books, so there’s literally never a slow moment.

For some readers, though, the opening will be slightly frustrating. Ismae herself doesn’t become an interesting character until she goes to court. Until then, she strikes me as someone who would be a real downer at parties. Pretty much every emotion she has is serious, begrudging, and usually made in relation to her abilities and position as an assassin for Saint Mortain. She also begins with a nasty man-hating streak that I found exaggerated at best, grating at worst—but I suppose if my only interactions with men consisted of an abusive father and husband, I probably wouldn’t like men, either. Still, it does read like a tiny tumblr rant when she ponders using her finely honed Saint-given assassination skills to kill a man who groped her in a tavern.

Once she reaches court, however, she blossoms as a character. She finds that she’s not as equipped for the job as she thought she was, but even so, learns to handle her inadequacies with competence, and never lets her insecurities get the better of her. When faced with a problem, she never whines about it; she finds a way to overcome it, which is not only admirable but far less exhausting to read. Truly, she faces so many challenges in each chapter that she can’t risk stopping. I’m pretty sure that if she’d stopped to whine, she’d have missed pivotal plot information. The novel moves that quickly, and the stakes are that high.

Though I read the book for its assassin action, I was pleasantly surprised by the tension of the court scenes, too. There’s a whole ton of political mess going on in this setting—France is threatening invasion, the twelve-year-old Duchess of Brittany needs armies to defend the duchy, and the main way she’ll be able to secure those armies is accepting one of any number of marriage offers, the most militarily promising of which is to a total scumbag. She knows there are traitors about in the court, loyal to either the French or to the scumbag, but she doesn’t know who they are, and the novel is written so that nearly everyone’s allegiance is called into question at one point or another. Ismae is determined to weed out the traitors, but this is where her failings challenge her. She can spy, of course, but over half of spying at court is done through sneaky, clever interpersonal relations, and Ismae’s social skills sometimes risk jeopardizing her goals. She also doesn’t know if she can trust the people she’s chosen to ally with, which adds a further layer of tension—especially when she falls in love with one of them.

This brings me to another of the novel’s strong points. The romance that buds between Ismae and Duval is a refreshing one. Never does it become a focus of the novel—both characters acknowledge that they have more important things to do than be all lovey-dovey—but when it hits, it hits hard, to great suspenseful effect. The last quarter of the novel is intense anyway, but the tension introduced by the romance makes it better. That the romance is introduced gradually, and as a byproduct of the two working together to save the duchy makes it even better, as does the fact that it is largely a positive relationship, despite its politically-motivated bumps.

That romance actually reminded of the slow romances between Seraphina and Kiggs in Seraphina and Katsa and Po in Graceling. Similarly, Ismae’s relationship with the young duchess reminded me of Katsa’s with Bitterblue, and the mental sharpness of the duchess reminded me of Seraphina’s Princess Gliselda. And when a book can draw comparisons with not one, but two of my favorites, it’s an excellent thing.

***

Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Redline – Anime Review

November 27, 2019 by hpholo 1 Comment

While watching Promare’s spectacular animation, I was reminded quite a bit of Redline, and then when writing my Promare review, I realized I’d never actually reviewed Redline. So I’m here to remedy that.

Redline is a 2009 anime that follows the gloriously pompadoured Sweet JP as he and his Trans Am compete to win the titular race. Trouble is, he’s racing against a horde of drivers with wildly tricked-out vehicles that frequently include missiles and other ridiculousness as standard gear. And they’re all racing against the government of Roboworld, which doesn’t want them on its planet and won’t hesitate to unleash its full arsenal to stop them.

https://youtu.be/rRLPdgcGPRg

For viewer purposes, though, the plot is “VROOM VROOM DRIVE FAST” because this isn’t a movie you watch for plot. This is a movie you watch for its achievement – a completely hand-drawn animated feature film by a first time director who, through it, has already made his masterpiece. Redline took seven years to complete, and every second of it shows.

These days, with our glut of committee-produced CG animation franchises, it’s easy to forget that animation is indeed an art form capable of depicting motion and emotion in ways live action or even photorealistic CG can’t even approach. It’s hard not to look at the work of, say, Richard Williams, once you’ve picked your jaw up off the floor, and say “GOD. An actual human hand-drew all the pictures necessary to create that.” In Japan, Masaaki Yuasa’s work attains the same level of sheer detailed, exuberant weirdness, and Redline’s Takeshi Koike is also in that boat.

Redline’s basic design is a joy to behold. It’s bursting with so many unusual characters, cars, and background details that I find new things to stare at every time I watch, and they’re all delightfully nuts. The racers themselves are clearly the product of animators who were told to design whatever they wanted and not only ran with it, but jumped in a car and punched the Nos (or, in Redline’s world, steamlight) before they even landed in the seat.

But as delightful as they are to look at while static, they are simply amazing to watch in motion. While literally every scene is bursting with clever art direction and brilliant color, the racing scenes are (of course) where it’s at. The animation is so fluid that one might be tempted to think it’s CG, until you realize that the squash and stretch distortions necessary to create that kind of on-screen motion are just barely possible with today’s CG, and certainly weren’t in 2009. And then there are the moments when the film foregoes “realistic” motion altogether, as when JP uses his steamlight booster, where it stretches the character to impossible but no less energetic dimensions. That’s the word to describe Redline’s animation – energetic, and often downright exhilarating. The animators give attention to even the smallest details of their characters’ racing – the flapping of steamlight tubes, the incessant shaking of the car (and different parts of the car) as they barrel toward the finish line (or away from enemy bombs, lasers, biological weapons, what have you). Even individual missile shots have their own unique animations. It’s undeniably gratuitous, but it’s also essential to the heart-poundingly bonkers fun of the whole thing.

On that note, James Shimoji’s soundtrack also deserves a mention; it’s as quirky and energetic as the movie that it scores, even if many of its tracks are too short to be fully enjoyed independently of their role in the movie. (Most of the tracks on the album end just as they feel like they’re getting started.) However, the opening score in particular – “Yellow Line” – is a lengthy, thumping track that’ll have you wanting to hop in your own car and just speed everywhere. “Redline” is a fun medley of that and the main themes of the final racers, and “Kare No Shift Wa BunBunBun” is worth a listen just to hear the SuperBoins try to say “We are sexy girls” in English (as if you somehow missed that they are The Sexy Girls of the movie).

Admittedly, Redline isn’t a movie for everyone. Non-anime fans may find themselves distracted by its sheer, unbridled craziness, and the plot and characterization is so meager that it feels like it’s literally only there to be the vehicle by which the characters’ cars race. As much as I fangirl over this movie, I have to admit that it took me two or three watches to really get into it, so if you’re unimpressed by spectacle, Redline will never be your thing.

But if you have even the slightest appreciation for the art of animation and the energy of well-done anime, you’ll find a real treasure in this movie.
***
Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Promare – Anime Review

November 27, 2019 by hpholo Leave a Comment

Pssh. Right, like a Trigger movie would come to our local theatre and it NOT be a Mandatory Date Night.

Promare starts with a literal bang, as half the world’s population spontaneously bursts into flames, thus marking the Great World Blaze and the appearance of the Burnish – people with fire-manipulating powers who set the world aflame not because they want to, but because they must. And when fire can literally attack – well, suddenly firefighters have a whole new job.

New to the Burnish-fighting/rescue operation Burning Rescue, Galo Thymos is a rookie firefighter with a burning soul and a city to save – but when he apprehends the leader of the terrorist organization Mad Burnish, he discovers a challenge far darker and more complex than he could have ever imagined.

Okay, first off – watch this movie. Just watch it. If you have ever been a fan of anything Trigger or Trigger-adjacent, it is a gift to your eyeballs.

Studio Trigger at its best has always been known for its spectacular, frenetic animation and design. Even the self-consciously low-budget Kill la Kill rocked every single frame of animation that ever touched a screen and Promare, with all the advantages of a movie budget, is so beautiful that I would have cried – had I not been occupied by fits of uncontrollable grinning.

See, Trigger knows what its fans want – namely bold, bombastic heroes, high tech robots hecking stuff up, and outright ridiculous action – and Promare dumps all that onto the screen as soon as it starts. It takes a break a little bit afterward for plot, but then goes right back to what we love with a third act full of so many mecha transformations and WTF moments that it’s hard not to leave the theatre in a state of sheer vibrating nerd bliss.

The plot, unfortunately, is not as strong as its execution. Not that it’s bad – it moves along at an engaging pace and there’s never a dull moment – but given what I’ve seen from other Trigger productions of its type, I expected more. Trigger at its best has a talent for taking a visual motif and weaving it through the entire theme of the work. In Gurren Lagann (not technically Trigger, but still its spiritual predecessor), the visual concept of a spiral connected the protagonist’s defining drill to the spiral of human DNA and eventually to the resilient, overcoming power of humanity itself. In Kill la Kill, the concept of threads and clothing…well. It’s complicated and clever and absolutely nuts, and quite frankly, it’s easier to just go watch Kill la Kill.

Thus, given that Promare starts with a bunch of angry people bursting into flame and the centrality of fire to all human life (After all, it was one of our first tools), I expected a commentary on the all-consuming and all-empowering natures of both anger and fire – especially relevant in today’s angry society – or perhaps some twist relating the thematic concept of fire to humanity as a whole. Instead the movie takes a far more simplistic direction, and though one of its major themes centers upon how humans treat each other, it’s handled in such a predictable way that it became the one truly disappointing part of the movie. But then, I fully concede that it was mainly disappointing in comparison to my expectations.

At the same time, though, half the fun of going into a Trigger work for me is imagining the ridiculous ways in which its visuals and design might tie into its theme, and while most works since Kill la Kill have let me down in that respect, the thought process is still so fun that I don’t plan to give it up.

The only other disappointing element was that Galo was, in fact, not actually a resurrected Kamina (from Gurren Lagann), despite having his same basic character design and personality, and I’m still perplexed by the studio’s choice to make Promare’s protagonist essentially identical to one of its most iconic characters. Though, given how much fan chat leading up to the movie centered around the mystery of “Is it Kamina or not?” perhaps it was merely a clever marketing move.

After all, Trigger has time and again shown itself to be clever with design, and Promare is no exception. The film absolutely gleams with style, from the simplicity of its cityscapes to its unusual color choices (The fire is pink and yellow) to its imaginative character designs to its aesthetic attention to even the most minute background details (There’s a polygonal visual motif that extends even to the movie’s lens flares).

Also, Hiroyuki Sawano’s (always) explosive musical score and Superfly’s fist-pumping pop themes are a pile of cherries on top of an already huge movie sundae – though let’s be real, Sawano could write a score to a blank screen and it would be the most exciting blank screen you’d ever watched or would ever watch again.

Overall, Promare was spectacularly worth the cost of a Fathom Events ticket, and it already has a designated space on my Blu-Ray shelf (whenever it finally releases). Viewers who are unfamiliar with Trigger may not appreciate all its stylistic tropes, but even new fans will recognize it for what it is – a bombastic love letter to us and everything we love about Trigger’s anime.

***
Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Food Wars (S1) – Anime Review

April 21, 2019 by hpholo Leave a Comment

After subjecting Jacob to the emasculating experience that was Cute High Earth Defense Club LOVE!, I decided to have some mercy and suggest Food Wars, which has become famous (infamous?) for its fanservice.
Food Wars (aka Shokugeki no Soma) follows amateur chef Yukihira Soma, whose dream of becoming a full time chef at his father’s restaurant is derailed when his dad suddenly closes up shop to travel – and tells him he can only have it if he survives the rigorous training at the elite Totsuki Culinary Academy. This being a shonen anime, nearly every episode comes down to a high-stakes shokugeki – a cooking duel through which students settle debates and rivalries – and through which Soma learns much about cooking and about himself.

Food Wars has become my new second-favorite anime, y’all. It very nearly dethroned Gurren Lagann as my absolute favorite, but there are few anime out there like Gurren Lagann, and many food anime, so Food Wars sits solidly at #2.
This comes as a surprise to no one who knows me, because first of all, FOOD. But I’m also an enthusiastic fan of weird, well-executed premises, complex characterization, meaningful conflicts, and good-natured, genuine competition (as opposed to angst-ridden competitive nastiness), and Food Wars has all of those.
But then there’s the fanservice.
Normally I can’t stand blatant fanservice, so it takes an extra special twist to even get me to watch a fanservice show. (See again: FOOD.) Even with the food appeal, though, I initially wasn’t sure about it, as many reviewers had been uncomfortable with the fanservice, some going as far as to call it rapey.
But fear not: That is (mostly) pure Internet exaggeration.
Still, that said, if no amount of food will make you comfortable with sudden explosive nudity, don’t even try Food Wars. As with many cooking-themed anime, much of the comedy comes from characters’ over-exaggerated reactions to the taste of food, and in Food Wars’ case, Soma’s cooking launches diners into such overwhelming fits of bliss that their clothes periodically burst off in no small approximation of orgasmic pleasure. Though I disagree, I can see why some viewers would compare Food Wars to porn.
I mean…

The difference between Food Wars and other fanservice shows, though, is that Food Wars generally handles its fanservice with class (if such a word can be applied to fanservice).*
First – and most pivotally – though Soma’s cooking makes clothes explode off left and right, he himself is absolutely unaware of this (possibly because all the nudity seems to happen in the same alternate dimension as magical girl costume transformation). He just wants to make people happy with his cooking, and given how sensual the best cooking can be, it’s perhaps not inappropriate that his customers have sensual reactions to match. The point is, no one in this series gawks at nudity that wasn’t meant for their eyes, and even the fanservicey characters are only treated as such for the self-aware humor of it. (It is a blatantly un-ironic joke that the most scantily-clad female is a master of meat, but even then, that joke rarely leaves a cooking context).
Second, the fanservice is equal opportunity. Though the majority of it is female, the series doesn’t shy away from male nudity (young or old). One main male character literally walks around in an apron and nothing else in several scenes.
Finally, the fanservice isn’t even exclusively human. If this series is aiming to be any sort of porn, it’s foodporn. The food art in this series is hands down the best I’ve seen in any anime ever, and I literally ended every episode saying “I want to cook that.” Not only that, the level of detail the series puts into describing the techniques behind each dish shows dedication far beyond what one would expect from a typical anime production. Real research went into making the culinary facets of this show work, and it shows in every episode. My only dislike about this research is that the more complex the characters’ challenges become, the more complex their ingredient requirements, such that, by the end of the first season, I couldn’t make anything in my own kitchen without visiting a specialty store first or learning a very specific time-consuming technique.
But seriously, even if you’re indifferent to everything else about this show, watch it for the food.

All this foodie goodness, though, flows on the hands of the show’s characters like the waves of the most delicious mosh pit. There’s not a single unlikable character in this show, even among the antagonists. All of the characters face each other in the spirit of competition rather than generic antagonism; all are fully rounded people with their own hopes, goals, and high stakes to overcome, such that even when an opponent character loses, the viewer has a reason to be bummed for them. The one possible exception to this is antagonist Erina Nakiri, whose hypersensitive God Tongue is so thwarted by Soma’s cooking that she’d love to see him fail, but even then she judges him fairly.

Strangely, the weakest character of the bunch is Soma himself. He’s a typical shonen protagonist, determined to win no matter the stakes, but he often raises the stakes so high himself that viewers automatically know he’s going to win. After all, if the show’s about a cooking school, it can’t go on if its main character loses enrollment in a bet! As a result, there’s absolutely no tension in the show, except where the semi-expendable minor characters are concerned. But then, even though you know Soma’s going to win, seeing how he does it is a real treat, and therein lies the show’s real suspense.
The same is true, if not more true, of all the other characters. Consider that each character represents a different preferred ingredient, style of cooking, or even food preparation technique, and you’ve got a show that is downright educational! I’ve learned more about creative cooking from this show than I’ve learned from years of Food Network and cookbooks.
In short, Food Wars is a masterpiece. Watch it.
***
*Admittedly, the first episode piles on the fanservice (see: the above gif), as do some of the finale episodes, and there are a few references to tentacle hentai here and there (usually in reference to one particularly disgusting squid dish – thus why some viewers have called it rapey). But outside those instances, the show tones itself down significantly.
P.S. – If you want to recreate some dishes from the show, AniTAY has a series of recipes modified from a few episodes. The Gotcha Pork recipe is now a mainstay at House Holo, but I recommend separating it into 4 to 6 smaller loaves rather than two big ones, as they’re easier to move off the pan when finished. They will take an extra pack of bacon, though.
P.P.S – I’ve also finished Season 2, but I don’t plan to review it because it’ll just be more of the same gushery. And the complaint that, now that the characters are competing in very advanced competitions, with recipes to match, little amateur me has no hope of being able to cook these foods.
***
Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Mary Poppins Returns – Movie Review

January 21, 2019 by hpholo 1 Comment

In Mary Poppins Returns, there’s a song titled “A Cover is not the Book.” It’s about various whimsical figures who are not what they seem on the surface, but it might as well be about the movie itself:
What looks to be an expensive, nostalgia-reliant cash grab is…well, still an expensive, nostalgia-reliant cash grab, but it’s also a delightful, deserving follow-up to a timeless classic.
In this sequel to 1964’s Mary Poppins, the Banks children are all grown up and facing grown-up problems—namely, the death of Michael’s wife, which has brought his sister Jane back into the fold of 17 Cherry Tree Lane to help take care of his three children, Annabel, John, and Georgie. A year without their mother has forced these children to grow up fast, but even the help they offer can’t stave off the most recent threat to their family—the potential loss of 17 Cherry Tree Lane and all the memories contained therein. Financially strapped, the only way the family can save their beloved home is to find the shares in Fidelity Fiduciary Bank that their father left to them, but in the disorganization of his grief, Michael has misplaced them. These are problems large enough to require the services of a magical nanny, and with all the foresight of such a nanny, Mary Poppins floats right in.

Mary Poppins Returns is a sequel that almost requires two viewings—one so you can roll your eyes at how often it leans on viewer memories of the original, a second so you can stop being a cynical modern moviegoer and fully enjoy how it not only pays homage to the original, but develops a complex theme all its own and does a practically perfect job of it. (Sorry not sorry.)
That said, the film definitely relies on the structure of the original, to the point where halfway through, I wondered if the film would have a single original plot point. The film opens with its own Bert, in this case a lamplighter named Jack, whose purpose is to carry on Bert Prime’s tradition of awful Cockney accents, introduce the audience to London, and remind everyone of how enigmatic and perfect Mary Poppins is. There’s the Making-a-Mundane-Task-Fun song (“Can You Imagine That?”), the Travel-to-a-Whimsical-Animated-World song (“The Royal Doulton Music Hall”), the jaunty “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” romp (“A Cover is Not the Book”), the Visit-to-the-Eccentric-Directionally-Challenged-Cousin song (“Turning Turtle”), the Song-and-Dance-with-Laborers (“Trip a Little Light Fantastic”), and the concluding Everything-is-Happy-and-Stuff-is-Flying song (“Nowhere to go But Up”). By the end, I was astonished that there wasn’t a Lullaby-About-Pigeon-Ladies (though there was a lullaby).
This said, it’s easy to write Mary Poppins Returns off as an unnecessary rip off of a classic. What keeps it from being so is how skillfully it handles its multitude of homages and how it builds upon elements introduced in the original to develop its own meaning.
This is a movie clearly made by fans of the original Mary Poppins. It’s obvious from the very opening song (“(Underneath the) Lovely London Sky”), to the painted-backdrop-and-overture credits to the unmistakably Sherman Brothers-inspired wordplay of the lyrics. (The soundtrack has been on repeat in my office and car since I first saw this movie.) Moreover, it fully understands the stern-yet-whimsical spirit of Mary Poppins as both a story and a character: the philosophy that sometimes even the dark, adult parts of life are best tempered with a little “stuff and nonsense.”
And that is even more key to this film than the last.
For though the movie is, on the surface, a nonsense storybook tale, it’s ultimately a story about grief—Michael coming to terms with the death of his wife (or not, as evidenced by the fact that he can’t run a functioning household without her, try as he might), and the children trying to do the same (but unable to because they have to take care of the household that their father can’t). Contrary to stereotype, when a nanny like Mary Poppins shows up, its because the adults need fixing, not the kids, and in this case, it’s two types of grown-up who need her help—one actual grown-up, three who have been forced to take on grown-up responsibilities tragically early in life.
Granted, the movie’s wildly lavish musical numbers often distract from that. Disney pulled out more stops than usual here, often to spectacular effect (“Trip a Little Light Fantastic” is a show-stopper), sometimes to CGI excess (“Can You Imagine That?” is a great song, but so conspicuously computer-generated that it barely feels like it belongs in the world of the movie). Still, ultimately the lyrics and themes of each individual song come together in a way that leads the Bankses to process their grief from a different perspective and, in effect, to reclaim the joys of innocence and happiness lost.

That this is accomplished through meaningful callbacks to the original Mary Poppins makes it that much better. Though several are admittedly pure window dressing for fans, many serve a relevant, indispensable purpose to the plot—namely the iconic kite from the “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” scene, which may as well have been a character in this film. Even references that don’t influence the plot are used in a charming, characterful way (Admiral Boom, Mr. Binnacle, and their punctual cannon make recurring appearances with a cute twist).
The cast performances are charming as well. With a character as distinct and iconic as Mary Poppins, the strength of the movie naturally rides on the depiction of said character, and Emily Blunt, from her precise language to her calculated slips of mischief, is spot-on in her role. Lin-Manuel Miranda, despite the accent, is as ebullient as the lamps his character lights. Ben Whislaw as Michael maintains a fine, likable balance between loving father and grieving husband, who comes across as emotionally incapacitated rather than completely incompetent, which is key for the appeal of his character (…even if the eventual reveal about the bank shares made the responsible adult in me want to scream at him). Despite not having a lot of screen time compared to the other characters, Emily Mortimer plays a sweet and assertive Jane, whose labor activism is a nice callback to the character’s suffragette mother. Finally, Pixie Davies, Nathaniel Saleh, and Joel Dawson as Annabel, John, and Georgie respectively also fill their roles well, balancing responsibility with playfulness and only coming across as precocious or whinging when children normally would.
The movie does have its flaws, but for me, most of them were nitpicks. There are moments when the film’s visuals become too overwhelming—as in the aforementioned “Can You Imagine That?” scene or in the animated “Royal Doulton Music Hall” sequence, where the backgrounds and costume design hearken back to the scratchy, sketchy Xerox era that produced Mary Poppins…but the animated animals all have clean, modern, digital lines. There’s also an actual antagonist in the form of William “Weatherall” Wilkins (Colin Firth), the new president of Fidelity Fiduciary Bank, who is determined to reclaim 17 Cherry Tree Lane for the very Hollywood reason of Profiting The Bank At All Costs. There’s a minor payoff for this conflict in the form of a fun character reveal at the end (Dick Van Dyke, revisiting a version of a role he played in the original), but in a story where the conflict is about characters overcoming personal problems, a concrete antagonist felt extraneous, and the entire climax could have worked even without the threat of Wilkins’ character. Fortunately, though, we don’t see enough of that character to really complain about, and the end itself is delightful enough to overshadow it.
The same can be said of the movie as a whole. The jaded adult in me might point out its flaws and repetitions, but the child in me delights in the way that it solves hard problems with childlike whimsy. While that seems like an unrealistic way to solve problems, hardships in my own life have taught me that often the best way to survive those periods (or at least ease oneself into a state where one is able to handle them) is to look at the darkness from a different, lighter perspective.
The wackiest song in the film, “Turning Turtle,” is actually the one that conveys the movie’s central message, and when Mary Poppins sings, “When you change the view from where you stood / The things you view will change for good,” it carries a deeper meaning far beyond her topsy-turvy situation. And, indeed, beyond the movie itself.
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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.

Self-Publishing for Profit – Book Review

February 18, 2018 by hpholo Leave a Comment

These days, “How to Self-Publish” books are a dime a dozen. Chris Kennedy’s Self-Publishing for Profit is $6.99 on Kindle, but it’s easily the best $6.99 you’ll ever spend if you’re looking to break into self-publishing.
Kennedy’s writing background is similar to that of many indie writers, which is to say, he’d never really been a writer until he suddenly had an idea that wouldn’t let go (in this case, the idea that became his book Red Tide: The Chinese Invasion of Seattle). Since then, he’s gone from never having written a novel at all to writing several series and an ever-growing universe with several other authors and running his own publishing house. All this said, it makes him a perfect teacher for new writers who are starting in a similar position.
This is what makes Self-Publishing for Profit stand out from other self-publishing books. Though its first three sections focus on information similar to what you’d find in other books – namely, marketing and engagement – the fourth is where the book becomes truly valuable for writing newbies. It outlines everything from how to figure out what kind of book you should write (Tip: Don’t just follow trends, and try to be niche when you can.), to creative writing tips he learned through trial and error, to a section literally titled “How Not to Look Like a Newbie.” Formally-trained writers won’t have much use for this section, but if you’ve barely ever picked up a pencil except to write a grocery list, this is the section for you.
Formally-trained writers, depending upon their experience with book production, will have some use for the fifth section, which outlines how to perfect a book for publication. This section covers the different types of editing (copyediting and content editing), how to go about finding editors, words to avoid, and simple ways to tighten up your writing. Before I started publishing, writing had been one of the defining elements of my life – the people around me have identified me as “the writer” since 4th grade, and I took as many creative writing classes as I could and even majored in creative writing at one point – and there were a few practical tips in this book that I hadn’t come across even in my years of study!
These sections, then, are a gem for the new and inexperienced writer. The subsequent sections, however, are invaluable for writers of all kinds. Sections six through nine cover the important details one must consider to give a book the best chance of selling. Section six covers basics like cover design, while section seven covers how to make the book available for sale as an eBook. Section eight, though, is where this area begins to shine, covering the many ways in which books can be repackaged for sale – as print books, audiobooks, or foreign-language editions – and providing the reader with the resources to make those versions happen. This is perhaps the most valuable thing about this book – for every piece of advice given, there are links to resources where readers can pursue that topic further. Section nine delves back into marketing, and the book ends with section ten, which explores what to do next, whether you want to continue producing books, or whether you want to figure out why your current book isn’t selling as well as you’d hoped.
All in all, Self-Publishing for Profit stuffs a whole lot of information into a small, quick, easy-to-read package. If you want to self-publish but have no idea where to start, this is a great place, and even if you already publish, it can’t hurt to give it a read. You’re bound to learn something new!
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Note: Holo Writing is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program and, as such, may earn a small commission from any product purchased through an affiliate link on this blog.