Hamlet's Father III -- Hamlet Needs To Call the Ghostbusters

Okay, let's get this over with, this book has to be back at the library December 15...

Hamlet gets back to court to find all the Companions (when's your next album coming out, guys) gone except Horatio, who greets him on his return.  Horatio apparently looks "older than his nineteen years" yet "in some ways [he] was still a boy," which seems an interesting contradiction in terms.  Also Denmark is bracing for war against Fortinbras of Norway, which is at least true to the play and is explained to be the reason why Claudius was given the throne so quickly.

There's some political discussion, as well as some griping about how TERRIBLE Hamlet's father was and how he's one of the major reasons why Norway's declaring war in the first place.  Card, seriously, did you really need a villain for your story so much that you had to pull a Ron the Death Eater on the old king?  (For those who don't want to click the link, "Ron the Death Eater" is TV-Tropes lingo for when a fanfic writer twists an otherwise good or at least decent character into a villain, often to make their Mary Sue or their favorite canon character look better in comparison.)  I understand that a lot of the original play is left open to interpretation, but blaming every single bad thing in the play on one character is a lot to stomach.

And just to rub it in that Hamlet might as well be named Gary Stu, we get this exchange:

"You and I know that you're as skilled at the arts of war as any man, but Fortinbras had no idea."

"A war is not a duel," said Hamlet.  "The barons were right to give the throne to my uncle, at a time like this."

"I'll not quarrel with their choice of a king," said Horatio.  "Not even with their haste in choosing.  But you would have been a fine king, up to the challenge, and you may be yet." -- p. 35

Ugh... Card, honestly, do you not realize that painting Hamlet to be a perfect, saintly character who everyone loves and who everyone wants to be king even though HE doesn't want to be king because Ambition Is Evil is just as bad as vilifying a decent or just plain ambiguous character?  You may not have liked the original interpretation of Hamlet and thought a "dithering hero" was boring, but in my mind a perfect, angelic, universally beloved character is just as boring.  For Primus' sake, give him some flaws!

Oh, and apparently Hamlet is worried that Claudius wants to off him because "the throne changes a man."  Yeesh, at least talk to the guy before you make assumptions.

Hamlet apparently wants to leave Denmark and go to Rome to become a priest because Card wants to REALLY hammer home that his Hamlet is PERFECT and SAINTLY and GOOD!  And of course he shoots down Horatio's suggestion that someday he could be the Pope because "there's no place for ambition in the Church" and "I have no ambition."  We are swiftly reaching parody levels of Sue here, except this is being played completely straight.

If you're going Full Sue, at least do it with tongue in cheek...

Image from "Ensign Sue Must Die" (excellent webcomic, by the way...)

There's a pointless conversation about fighting a duel using books, which I guess is Card trying to inject humor into this story.  I have to admit I chuckled a bit at this bit (though military folks might not find it all that funny):

"So books draw blood?"

"Scholars don't have blood flowing in their veins," said Hamlet.  "When they're wounded, they bleed logic, and when all of it is gone, their brains die, and they become... soldiers." -- p. 37

Finally the conversation drifts around to Laertes... and Ophelia.  Oh hey, Card remembered she exists.

"Ophelia is still unmarried.  Waiting for you, they say."

"Waiting for me to what?"  (Okay, old joke but I snorted...)

"To pay attention to her.  To court her.  Hamlet, don't tell me you didn't know how Polonius always hoped she'd marry you when you came of age."

"That was back when I had a crown in my future," said Hamlet.

"That might change the Father's mind, but the daughter looks with different eyes."

Hamlet shook his head.  "Having a wife is often taken by the Church as a discouragement to ordination."

"Do you really mean to live a life of celibacy?"

"I have all the ordinary lusts of the flesh," said Hamlet.  "but to me, a woman is much like a pudding; when you're hungry, of all things the most beautiful; but when you've had your fill, the dregs are disgusting to look at, and you can't wait for someone to take the dish away." -- p. 37-38

Mmmmkay, so remember in the "Hamlet's Father Part I" post when I said to remember how Hamlet outright commented on how pretty Laertes was?  Well, both that tidbit and Hamlet's complete disinterest in women in general -- and Ophelia in particular -- have been brought up by more than one critic of this book as an indication that Hamlet himself might be homosexual.  And for a book that claims homosexuality comes from molestation, coming from a blatantly homophobic author like Card, to have THIS sort of subtext would be hilarious if it wasn't also kind of sad.  

Horatio insists Hamlet will come around and fall for Ophelia, Hamlet counters with a childish "then why don't YOU marry her?" remark, Horatio insists he's too poor to marry, and there's a discussion about how Laertes was Hamlet's favorite among the Companions (performing live in New York!)... and the angriest?

"Laertes was the angriest," said Horatio.  "I suppose that's all."

"Angriest?" said Hamlet.  "What do you mean?  At me?"

#9... this could be a drinking game...

Horatio blushed.  "I meant nothing.  He was choleric, that's all.  Quick to anger."

But Hamlet knew it was not what Horatio meant.  There was some grievance, and Horatio meant not to speak of it. -- p. 39

Oooh, is Hamlet finally going to address the issue?  Are we going to get some hint as to what's been going on in the Kingdom all these years?

Well, Hamlet wouldn't force the issue.  Those days with his Companions were done with now. -- p. 39

Freaking.  H.  E.  Double-hockey-sticks, Hamlet.  Do you care about NO ONE but yourself, you little sociopath?  You're going to just give up on your friends because you're (allegedly) an adult now?  Good Primus, I want to tie both you and Eden to chairs and take turns slapping a clue into both of you until your IQs go up a few points or I knock you both out cold, whichever comes first.

And no, I'm not counting this selfishness as a character flaw, because I believe it was unintentional on Card's part.  If Card ever reads this and believes otherwise (fat chance of that, I know...), he's free to correct me...

Hamlet and Horatio do a little swordfighting, then wrestling, then they go to dinner with Claudius, who remarks that Hamlet's grief must have eased enough to let him laugh with his friends.  And of course Hamlet leaps on that as proof that Claudius is just waiting for him to slip up and the royal court is just too tricky for him to deal with.  Wah, wah, cue the sad trombone...

Sad Trombone sound

Page break, and we skip to two nights later when Horatio's waking Hamlet up to tell him that he just saw Hamlet's father's ghost.  Hamlet insists that spirits don't walk the Earth, that they either go to heaven or hell, but Horatio insists he and two guards saw it and suggests Hamlet go see for himself.  He also suggests that Hamlet might know what to say to make it go away.

Then we get this telling bit that's even MORE interesting if you go into this book knowing the surprise twist ending:

"A spirit is airy, it's nothing, not even a fog.  I could see through it, the walls behind it.  When it passed between me and Marcellus, I could see Marcellus plainly.  What is there to fear from something insubstantial?"

"And yet you're afraid," said Hamlet.

Horatio was silent until they came to the stair leading up to the battlement.  "I'm afraid," said Horatio, "because of what the thing might say."

"Its body isn't real," said Hamlet, "but its words might be?"

"Words can be as sharp as swords, and stab as deep.  I fear that what this ghost might have to say will leave this castle draped with corpses." 

"Or perhaps he'll have words to save us," said Hamlet.  "Perhaps he knows something of the plans of Fortinbras."

"Why should Hell care what befalls kingdoms here above?"

"Hell?" asked Hamlet.

"Or heaven," added Horatio.

"You're sure my father must be in hell?"

Again Horatio kept his silence.  -- p. 42-43

#10...

I'm curious as to why Hamlet doesn't press this issue.  Is he really that uninterested in what Horatio knows about his father?  Given that Hamlet didn't like the guy, you'd think he'd leap on an opportunity to commiserate with someone else about him.  Even if the guy is dead, that doesn't necessarily stop people from talking about him...

Hamlet makes fun of both Horatio and the guards and cracks a joke... but nobody laughs.  Hamlet gets a "he's standing right behind me, isn't he?" moment and turns to see the ghost. surprise, surprise.  Oh, and we get another illustration on page 45.  Nicely dramatic one, and probably the best of the four included in the book.

Hamlet asks him if he has a warning for the kingdom, and offers to bring Claudius to speak to him since he's the king now, but the ghost tells him no.  Hamlet then tells the others to leave him alone because the ghost will talk to him and only him.  How he knows this I have no idea, because the ghost hasn't said anything about this and while I don't know much about Catholicism, I highly doubt they have any set rules about how to deal with ghosts.  

Horatio doesn't want to leave Hamlet, which given what I know about this book's ending is understandable... but finally he manages to chase both him and the guards away, and finally the ghost talks.

The lips did not move, and yet it spoke.  "Avenge me," he said.

More than the sight of the ghost itself, more than the way its words shook his body, the idea that his father had been murdered struck him hard and deep.  For he knew at once that there was only one man who might have done it -- the man who wore the crown in Father's place. -- p. 46

Okay, this is a huge leap here.  Claudius was always friendly to Hamlet, and Hamlet even used to wish Claudius was his father instead of the king.  Why is he suddenly leaping to this conclusion?  Didn't this book just set up that Hamlet had no grudge against Claudius?  Heck, a few sentences later he even states that he loves his uncle more than his own father!  And he never got along with his father -- why is he taking his word seriously anyhow?

To the book's credit, at first the king never states that it's Claudius who killed him.  Though notably, he does nothing to correct Hamlet on that count, which is just as bad.  

"Murder and usurpation, treason and adultery," said the ghost.  "I live now in Hell.  Will you have all Denmark join me there?  Avenge me, and purify the kingdom."

"Who killed you, Father?"

"You know already," said the ghost.  It backed away.

"How was it done?" asked Hamlet.

"Do you doubt me?"

"Will I kill my uncle on the word of one witness?" asked Hamlet?

"No one but the murderer saw the crime!"

"How will it benefit Denmark for me to kill my uncle now, with Fortinbras preparing his long ships against us?"

"I speak of blood and horror in your own family, and you answer me with fleets and armies." -- p 46-47

Hamlet declares that he owes his father nothing, and if this book was in any way logical it would end right here.  But we get more back and forth, and suddenly Hamlet's father wins him over in the most ridiculous way possible:

"My beautiful son," said the ghost.  (*shudders*)

"Too late," said Hamlet.

"My sweet, pure-hearted, golden-haired, lovely, strong, and clever son.  How often I stood at the window and watched you practice with the sword, the grace of God upon you, the sun shining in your hair.  You were the only joy in my life." -- p. 47

I understand that Hamlet is very much a "Well Done Son" Guy, and has wanted his father's love since he was a kid... but boy, is this uncomfortable to read.  Seriously, my skin is crawling.  Yes, I know Card meant for the audience to read this suspecting nothing, but given that this book's "shocking twist" is pretty well-known by now, it inspires nothing but squicky feelings right now.

The king insists he kept his distance from Hamlet so he wouldn't be spoiled and coddled, and could grow up to be the king Denmark needs.  Hamlet asks again how they can win against Fortinbras, and the ghost replies that there's no hope of victory with an adulterer on the throne.  So he very cleverly does not explicitly state who killed him (despite alluding to it pretty directly in the original play) but still states that Claudius needs to die.  Geez, hate your brother much, dude?

Oh wait, on page 48 he finally claims that his own brother killed him, though it's buried amidst a bunch of griping that his wife cheated on him and will kill him again by desecrating his memory.  So he's outright lying to Hamlet at this point.  Hamlet, why are you trusting this guy?

He tells Hamlet how he died (poison in the ear, which will be directly contradicted by events later in the book, but just wait and see...) and again insists that it's Hamlet's duty to avenge him and retake the throne.  Hamlet argues that he can't, because once again he's just too pure and saintly to do anything despicable, but when the king finally threatens to go to one of the Companions (buy our next album!) and ask them to do it instead, Hamlet finally relents and swears to avenge his death.

And here, we get what's pretty much the only conflict and "dithering" in the book -- Hamlet trying to decide whether or not to go through with his vow.  He wonders if Claudius really killed his father (and seems more upset about the fact that his mother might have cheated on the king with Claudius, which is some whacked-out priorities...), he fawns over the fact that his father actually complimented him for once (better late than never, I suppose...), he reasons that only the spirits of the wicked walk the Earth because the righteous have no need to descent from heaven (Card, you and I share a religion and I know for a fact our religion doesn't teach that)...

All interesting stuff that could take up a book of its own... and here it's glossed over in two pages.  All the introspection and moral complexities of Hamlet are pretty much boiled down to six or seven paragraphs.  What.  The.  Frag.  Card.

Hamlet sends the guards back up to the battlements and tells them to alert him if they ever see the ghost again.  Horatio demands to know what the ghost said, and Hamlet insists it's for his ears alone.

"I'll never ask again, my prince," said Horatio.

"Even if I choose not to tell," said Hamlet, "I'll never be offended by the asking."

"Then I'll ask this: Was he murdered?  Did he ask you to avenge him?" -- p. 52

Um... hey Hamlet, I think you might be paranoid about the wrong person trying to off you... just saying...  Not that I think Horatio would off Hamlet, but he does seem entirely too interested in wanting to know just what the king said to him...

Horatio points out one of the barons or some spy of Fortinbras' could have killed the king, but he also points out that Claudius and Hamlet's mother stood to gain the most from his death.  Oh great, everyone in this freaking book has got a death wish for poor Claudius.  Poor guy was just too good for this sinful Earth, I suppose...

Hamlet also threatens to kill anyone who accuses his mother of being unfaithful to his father, which is a real nice way to paint your oh-so-perfect protagonist, Card.  The two of them decide to go do some detective work and check out the garden where the king died, and we get a page break.

Stopping there for now... expect another post sometime this week.  We WILL get through this together!

Hamlet's Father Part II -- How Do You Make Hamlet So Boring?

Let's move right along, shall we?

So... when we last left our "hero," Hamlet was being shipped off to school in Heidelberg.  And just to recap -- his father is evil, Claudius and Hamlet are both made of Incorruptible Pure Pureness, and Card has already dropped some blindingly obvious hints that the king of Denmark is a child molester.  Or maybe they're just blindingly obvious to me because I went into the book expecting them, I dunno...

And just like Eden, Hamlet thinks that everything is about him.  At least with Hamlet it's a tiny bit justified, seeing as he's a freaking prince, but it's still obnoxious to read about.

None of the Companions were with him at supper, and Hamlet realized that Father was punishing him.  Even though Hamlet hadn't asked to go anywhere, Father had apparently disapproved of him going, and so he would be barred from saying good-bye to his friends.  - p. 20

Or the Companions (guh, sounds like a bad 50s doo-wop band name) all had obligations at their respective homes... or someone decided a clean break was better than a prolonged goodbye... or they could be planning a special, separate goodbye for you...  There are numerous reasons why they might not be there, stop assuming it's all about you.  Protagonist-Centered Morality -- where the entire universe of the novel seems to revolve around the protagonist's wants, needs, and moral compass -- is present in some degree in most books, which is only natural, but in both Revealing Eden and Hamlet's Father they're both prevalent and very obnoxious.

After supper Hamlet goes up to the battlements and finds Laertes lurking there.  Turns out Hamlet's father did bar the Companions from saying good-bye to Hamlet.  Okay, so Hamlet was right, but my point still stands -- just because the king told them not to show up doesn't mean it was specifically meant to hurt his son.  He could have had other reasons.

Laertes tells him that he's being called into the king's service, and that it's an honor he doesn't want.  Hamlet, instead of sympathizing, whines that he doesn't want to go to Heidelberg.  For being such an impeccably perfect hero, Card's sure made his version of Hamlet completely lacking in empathy.  And while Shakespeare's Hamlet was by no means perfect, at least he wasn't a budding psychopath.

"Sometimes we just have to be patient with inconvenient honors."

Hamlet's tone had been jesting, but the darkness that came upon Laertes' face was almost painful.  "What is it?"

"Hamlet, I beg you, before you go, ask your father to send me away.  To France.  My mother's brother is there, lord of a small holding on the border between Normandy and the Ile-de-France.  Father will never ask -- he's too much the courtier.  But if you ask --" -- p. 21

What is this, #5 now?

Hamlet says his dad won't listen to him and doesn't Laertes' sister, Ophelia, need him to protect her?  Don't get too excited, Ophelia's role has been gutted down to almost nothing in this book...

Finally they go to Hamlet's mother to ask her permission.  And of course Hamlet thinks that his father wanting to send him to school is a terrible thing because it means he doesn't love him, but it's a wonderful thing that his mom wants him to go because it means she cares about his education.  Double standards much?

She apparently had no idea that the Companions (still thinking of white horses here) were being disbanded or that Laertes was being called into the king's service.  Her remarks here are disturbing and telling:

"One would have thought," she said to the boy, "that you served him well enough already." -- p. 22

#6...

"I think that if you bide only a little while, my dear husband will have no further use of you." -- p. 22

#7...

The queen says she'll arrange things so that Laertes is released from the king's service, but suggests he book it to France as soon as he can, because "my dear husband will be in a snappish mood for some months to come."  And here I skeeve out and run to take a shower, because it's bad enough that  Hamlet's father is apparently molesting young boys but the fact that the queen knows and does NOTHING up until this point -- nothing to alert the public, nothing to protect the boys in question, nothing to even tell the king "you touch a kid and I'll cut your junk off" -- makes me instantly lose any and all sympathy for her.  Because I don't care if this is the freaking King of Denmark we're talking about, he's still a pedophile, and you freaking do SOMETHING on the kids' behalf.

Valid reaction to this bit

The queen shoos Laertes off so she can say goodbye to her son, which is something else the king apparently forbids.  Can't forget that the king is EVIL and a JERK, after all...  

"You're a better son than your father and I had any right to hope for," she said.

"It's a well-kept secret from my father."

"You do not know what you do not know," said Mother.  "Your father has loved you better than you think."  -- p. 23

Couldn't decide between Red Flag #8 and Squicked-Out

Starscream... Starscream won out.  Primus almighty...

Then Claudius appears from behind a tapestry in the room -- apparently they were discussing matters of state, but the EVIL king forbids his brother from taking interest in the affairs of the kingdom, so the queen has to get his advice in secret.  I'm not sure if this bit was intended to hint at an affair between the queen and Claudius or just to hammer home how EVIL the king is.  Maybe some of both?  I somehow suspect it's the latter, actually, because Card has been making Claudius out to be PURE and GOOD and NOBLE and making him the queen's boy-toy wouldn't jive with that plan very well, I think.

There's some more banter about how the queen has taught Hamlet about everything pertaining to be a king except war, some talk of religion, and the queen remarks that she and God are "little acquainted as of late."  She also implies that the archbishop might be in the king's pocket, which makes me wonder if there's someone ELSE that knows about the king's deplorable antics.  Seriously, is Hamlet the only freaking character who doesn't know?  And why hasn't anyone done anything yet?  Even if he IS the king, shouldn't someone step in?

"Ever since your father became king, the only teacher I've had is your mother.  But she holds back the juiciest bits of information for herself.  She's afraid we'll become too powerful, if we know what she knows."

"I don't even know what I know," said Mother.  "I don't dare ask myself a single question for fear I'll tell me an answer I can't afford to hear." -- p. 25

I... what?

Hamlet tells his mom he'll make her proud of him, and Claudius says he's already proud of the king he will become.  Hamlet protests, saying his father's still young and that Denmark won't need another king for awhile.  Claudius almost blurts something out, but Hamlet is sure that he's about to say that Denmark needs another king right now.  Having characters guess what someone else is about to say is, in my mind, a sloppy way to get information across.  Humans are unpredictable creatures, and more often than not what you think they're going to say next isn't what's going to come out of their mouths.  Either have Claudius say it outright or find some other way to get the information across.

Hamlet goes back to his room, packs his backs, is off on a ship to Heidelberg the next day, and boom, page break.  Let's press on...

I'm going to summarize this next section a bit, because there's not a whole lot to say about it.  It's basically Hamlet going to school and establishing himself as even more of a Mary Sue, as he defeats everyone he crosses blades with in a sword fight, impresses all his teachers, becomes a star student despite starting off behind most of his classmates, uses his wealth to generously buy expensive books for the school, and soon has everyone loving him and wanting to be his best friend.  *yawn*  Card, perfect characters are BORING, you don't have to make Hamlet the best at absolutely everything he does...

Four years later Hamlet gets a letter that his father has died and he's needed at home.  And instead of any sort of mourning for Hamlet, or even a "oh wow, my father's died, that's a shock," we instead launch into him telling his professors how kings in Denmark are elected, and even though he's the likeliest candidate someone else could be chosen in his stead.  Seriously, he has NO emotional reaction whatsoever to his father's death.  

...okay, pause here.  Story time!

If you don't get the reference or just need a break from

the spork, look up Thomas Sanders' "Narrating People's

Lives" sometime.  It's hysterical.

When I was in junior high, I was a teacher's aid at the elementary school next door, and another student and I would walk to the school together.  He teased me constantly and made a show of walking ten feet away from me because he claimed I stank -- you know, typical junior high stuff.  Late into the school year he died in an accident, and despite the fact that we weren't close at all and didn't interact outside of that three-minute walk every day, hearing he had died was still a huge shock to me.  It wasn't grief, not necessarily, but still a shock.

Most normal people, when they find out a relative (even an estranged or distant one), an acquaintance (even a casual one), or a celebrity (even if it's one they don't particularly like) dies, are going to react somehow, even if it's just a "oh, they died, that's too bad."  For Hamlet to have no reaction at all to his father's death makes him come across as a sociopath.  I don't care if his father ignored him all his life, he should still be feeling SOMETHING here.  Not calmly going off about Denmark's politics to his professor.

The professor tells Hamlet he'll make an excellent king, because we can't forget that Hamlet's perfect in this universe.  He says that Hamlet's reputation as a swordsman had reached them before he did, and that rumor had it he'd "killed half of Denmark, and that's why you were sent here."

"I've never killed a man, sir," said Hamlet.

"And never will, God willing," said the professor. -- p. 30

Subtle, card

They get back to Denmark, and FINALLY we reach the beginning of the play, where Hamlet learns Claudius has been elected king in his stead and married his mother.  31 pages into a 92-page Hamlet adaptation (well, 86 if you count the fact that the story proper doesn't even start until page 7), and we finally get to the beginning of the freaking play.  I really need to read something else by Card and see if he has this sort of pacing problem in his longer works...

And of course, Hamlet doesn't want to be king, because only EVIL people want to be kings in fiction, so it's not being supplanted as king that upsets him (even though he rants for a paragraph about how Claudius is only about ten years older than him and he'll be an old man by the time he gets the throne, and that's IF Claudius doesn't have kids first).  Nope, what upsets him is that his mom got married to Claudius to legitimize the king-ship.  Oh yay, finally, we get some of the conflict that drove Hamlet through the play!  Now he's going to angst about how Mom didn't even wait until the funeral to get married and how morally wrong it is for her to get married to her brother-in-law, right?

Hamlet had never thought of her as ambitious.  She had endured Father's slighting treatment of her for all of Hamlet's life.  He always thought that it was for his sake that she lived; it had never occurred to him that she might have loved being Queen so much that she cared little who sat the throne, as long as she sat beside him. -- p. 32

Oh, for Celestia's sake...

It's been awhile since I've read Hamlet, but I've looked up several interpretations of the play online, and NONE even hint that ambition played a role in the queen's remarriage, or was even mentioned in the play as a factor.  Of all the interpretations you could have gone with, you have to go with the Starscream gambit?  When did we ever see any evidence that Hamlet saw her as ambitious or considers that the main problem with the marriage?  I could buy jealousy, I could buy claims of incest (at the time a widow marrying her brother-in-law was considered incest), I could buy him being upset that she barley waited a month before getting married, but I don't buy her being so grasping for the throne that she'd do anything to keep it.

Also, Hamlet, if you don't want the throne, what do you care if someone else wants it?  Besides, maybe the queen DOES love Claudius (see earlier in the chapter for evidence), or maybe she's just doing what she thinks is best to make sure Denmark's government stays stable.  Don't assume she's just a power-monger.

Hamlet also muses that he doesn't know Claudius that well, and worries that he might see his nephew as a threat to the throne.  Understandable, I suppose... though his solution is a weird one.  He decides that acting sullen and distraught will prove he's a threat to the throne, but that acting cheerful will make people think he's hiding something... so he's going to pretend to mourn his father instead.  Great, so any and all mourning and grief we saw in the play is apparently an act?  Card, did you MEAN to make your character such a sociopath?

So yeah, Hamlet gives a dramatic speech to his guards saying that he's grieving for his father, despite admitting to himself he doesn't even miss his father and thinks Denmark is better off without him.  They believe him, and Hamlet is suddenly all happy that he won't have to take the throne and he can go back to school once the funeral's over.  Seriously???  Where's our brooding hero from the play?  Dang-nabbit, Card, when you said you were shredding the play I didn't think you'd grind the blasted thing into powder...

He would not even begrudge Mother and Uncle Claudius their happiness.  There was no blood relation between Claudius and Mother, after all.  And didn't the Bible command that a man take his brother's widow to wife, to raise up progeny to his brother? -- p. 34

HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGH...  Okay, Card, stop.  Just stop.  You're tearing away absolutely everything that made the original play interesting.  You're depriving Hamlet of all the conflict and introspection that made HIM interesting.  And may I remind you that the whole marrying-your-brother's-wife was not only controversial during this time period, but the Bible itself is contradictory on the matter?  You're a religious man, you should know this...

It was not a matter of legalisms.  God had taken Father away from Denmark, away from Mother, away from them all.  Whatever dark and brooding spirit had kept Father from showing genuine love to him or Mother, he was gone now, and with him the shadows he had cast in their lives.  They were all free, and Hamlet most of all, for instead of having to bear the royal burden Father had borne so badly all these years, he could live his life as he saw fit. -- p. 34

And with that, we get started on the actual story of the play.  And instead of setting the stage for a great psychological drama that grapples with complex moral issues (ones pertinent to the time period but that still resonate and are discussed today), we're going to start off with a Mary Sue character who manages to be both bland and an apparent sociopath, and a story that seems to have no conflict whatsoever.  Ugh... 

There's a page break here, and even though I was hoping to get further than this, I'm gonna stop here.  I may have to renew this sucker at least once...

Hamlet's Father Part I -- All Hail Prince Mary Sue!

A couple things before we begin this spork in earnest...

First of all, this book is not separated into chapters.  I can understand that -- it probably feels a little silly to chop a 92-page book up into chapters -- but it does make finding a decent stopping point for reading/sporking hard.  So each post will cover about twenty pages of material, more or less if I want to avoid ending in the middle of a scene.

Second, according to Card's website, Hatrack River (which happens to be the name of his publishing company), the book version of Hamlet's Father was apparently supposed to be published with a foreword by Card.  It appears to not have made it into the book proper, but I'm reposting it here anyhow (with my commentary in non-italics), because it's chuckle-worthy reading alongside the book:

I have loved Shakespeare's plays since my days as a theatre undergraduate, when I learned to get my head into his characters and my mouth around the blank verse.  I have taught his plays to literature students, directed actors in performing his plays, and even fiddled with some of his scripts so they'd be fresh and funny to modern audiences despite the way the language has changed since he wrote them.  (See my adaptations of Romeo & Juliet and The Taming of the Shrew at www.hatrack.com.)

Part of me is curious to read those other adaptations now, but most of me is terrified.  No, I'm not going to spork them too... find them yourself if you're morbidly curious.

I don't like all the plays equally.  Coriolanus simply doesn't speak to me.  In fact. none of the Roman plays do.  But the play that bothers me the most -- because I don't much care for it and I think I should -- is Hamlet.

If you don't care for Hamlet, why did you feel the need to rewrite it?

Of Shakespeare's great tragedies, I love Lear and Macbeth; Othello at least I understand.  But Hamlet?  I have little interest in a dithering hero; nor am I much inspired by revenge plots.  Yet I keep hearing that this is the greatest of them all.

Hamlet is about far more than a revenge plot -- it's a story of one man's internal struggle with the morality of taking revenge for the death of his father, and raises interesting questions about religion, insanity, and how one man's obsession can have far-reaching consequences.  And while I understand it's not everyone's cup of tea, just calling it a "revenge plot" with a "dithering hero" is way too simplistic.

So I analyzed the story to see what it would take to make me care about it.  "Hamlet's Father" is what I came up with.  I'm fully aware of the fact that I have just messed with the play that many consider the greatest ever written in any language.  But Shakespeare stole his plots from other people; and nothing I do is going to erase a line of his great work or diminish his reputation in any way.  So why not?

If it takes turning a character into a homosexual pedophile to make you care about Hamlet, I'd start asking yourself some questions...  And while your story might not physically alter Shakespeare's work, it can certainly taint other people's enjoyment of the original work.

If you think it's blasphemous to fiddle with Shakespeare's work, then for heaven's sake don't read this story.  I leave his version in shreds on the floor.  But my body count is just as high, as long as you don't expect me to account for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.  I figure Tom Stoppard took care of them for all time.

Well, at least you admit to the shredding part... you certainly gutted the story of the original play in your efforts to rewrite it.  And for those who don't know, Tom Stoppard wrote Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, an absurdist play that also retells the story of Hamlet, though it does it through telling the story through the eyes of two minor characters rather than tearing apart the original.  Go read it or watch the film version, it's actually pretty hysterical.

Now diving into the actual book... wish me luck, here we go...

Comic from Perry Bible Fellowship

The book begins with a page stating this is one of a limited run of 1,000 books, complete with Card's autograph and the book's number (139).  Then we get two title pages and a page of copyright information before the story proper begins.  No dedication, curiously...

Hamlet's father sent him to the university at Heidelberg as soon as he turned fourteen.  Even though he had to leave all his friends behind, Hamlet was glad to go.

It wasn't Denmark he wanted to leave.  It was the castle at Elsinore; it was the throne that he would never occupy; it was Mother's endless sadness and infinite distance from him.

It was Father.  -- p. 7

Yes, that's our intro.  And apparently Card's solution to making Hamlet interesting is to saddle him with Daddy issues.  This is a rather common -- and in my mind somewhat cliched -- way to add to a character's backstory, but it feels a little weird to give to a character like Hamlet, whose driven by his desire to find his father's killer.  Note to people who write adaptations (including fanfic writers), before you add to a character's backstory, make sure it fits with the story and character.

The prose goes on to describe that Hamlet's always thought of his father as an equal to God, "all-knowing and all-powerful," but feels inadequate because his father never seems to pay attention to him.  *yawn*  It's the same sort of Freudian Excuse  you've seen in everything from Star Wars to Batman to every crime procedural ever to everything in between, and while it can be done well, it's not particularly innovative here.

Oh, and page 8 has an illustration of Hamlet sitting in a graveyard.  It's nothing particularly inspiring, but it's not awful either.

Hamlet apparently called his friends his age -- sons of noblemen or wealthy commoners -- his "Companions."  No, I don't know why it's capitalized, and frankly, I don't see why it needs to be.  I know the word is capitalized in Mercedes Lackey's Heralds of Valdemar series, but that's because it refers to a race of ultra-magical beings who look like horses.  (It's better than it sounds, I swear...)  Here it's just used to refer to Hamlet's childhood friends, and feels awkward.

Moving on... Hamlet's six and playing with his Companions when Polonius the chamberlain comes in and announces that the king's going on a hunting trip and is bringing Horatio with him.  Normal readers who go into this blind probably won't read too much into this, but knowing what I'm getting into, this is raising nasty red flags...

This is becoming my go-to "squick" face, isn't it?

Hamlet, being six years old, goes off to pout over this... in the graveyard?  Apparently that's his favorite place to go when he wants to be alone.  Odd... though at least the page illustration makes sense. 

He's still moping around in an apple tree in the graveyard when he gets a visitor.

"The fruit has grown large and ugly this year," said a familiar voice -- Yorick, the old jester.

"It's too early for apples."

"Then what kind of weather is it that drops ugly boys out of the sky?" -- p. 10

Muahahaha... I like Yorick already.  He's a character we only ever met as a disembodied skull in the original play, so it's actually pretty nice to see him here.  It's too bad that even at six Hamlet's got no sense of humor.  I thought this book was supposed to make him more interesting, not suck him dry.

Hamlet retorts that he's not ugly, and Yorick says sadly "better to be ugly."  Red flag #2...

That starts a debate over whether it's better to be pretty or ugly and about Hamlet eventually marrying, and Hamlet declares he's never going to get married, which I suppose is normal for a six-year-old boy.  Then Yorick shoos him back into the castle to talk to his mother, though Hamlet pauses to wash up in a fountain... and he hears voices.  Hey, I thought he wasn't supposed to go mad until his father actually kicked the bucket.

Oh wait, the "voices" aren't voices, it's someone crying.  I'd think that voices and crying sound different enough to tell them apart, but what do I know?

It's Horatio crying in the stables, and Hamlet asks him how the hunt was.  Not gonna ask why your friend is crying, kid?  Seriously?  Hamlet's more upset over the fact that Horatio not only went on the hunt instead of him, but got to sit in "his" place on the horse in front of his father.  I'm aware that six-year-olds tend to be selfish little snots, but still, they're capable of a little empathy.

Horatio explains that he and the king got lost during the hunt and didn't rejoin it until the way home, and tearfully expresses how he wishes he had been there to see the actual kill.  Red flag #3...  

Card rushes the timeline here, showing how time and again the king takes the other boys on hunts and expeditions but never Hamlet, and Hamlet thinks it's because there's something wrong with him.  Isn't anyone getting suspicious of what's going on here?  Yes, I'm aware that this is the king, and back in that day before monarchs were largely ceremonial, it was pretty dangerous to accuse a king of anything.  But later on the book suggests that Denmark's actually a constitutional monarchy, so surely someone could bring this up as a problem?  Anyone?

Card also goes on to turn Hamlet into a Mary Sue -- I know the "correct" term for a male Mary Sue is a Gary Stu or a Marty Stu, but Mary Sue is by far the better-known term.  Don't believe me?  Here's a sample:

Not that Hamlet thought for a moment that the other boys were actually better.  Hamlet always took pride in never allowing them to allow him to win at any of their contests.  When he lost, he took it without shame or anger, and no one reported on the outcome to Father or Polonius, lest they interfere and punish someone for outdoing the Prince.  Thus, whenever Hamlet won, he knew that his victory was real.  He was the fastest runner, save Laertes; he was the best at Latin, save Rosencrantz; he was the strongest at wrestling, save Guildenstern, and then only on some days could the older boy throw him down.

At one thing, though, Hamlet was the best save nobody, and that was the sword.  It was a natural gift -- the armsmaster said so. -- p. 13

And that's not all!  He also learns all the important matters of running the kingdom before he's even thirteen, from how to greet important visitors to how to prepare food for the winter to how to tell if one can tax the people more heavily or ease up on the taxes.  Card... did no one ever tell you that perfect characters are BORING?  You might not have liked a "dithering hero," but a hero who's automatically the best at everything he does isn't going to interest most readers.  Especially when the wicked, often dark sense of humor Hamlet showed in the original play seems to have been surgically removed.

Oh, and apparently Hamlet's father is a terrible king, and treats his brother Claudius (yes, THAT Claudius from the play) like dirt.  But Claudius too is just OH SO PERFECT and lets it roll off his back without any problem.  And Hamlet likes Claudius so much he wishes he was his father.

So... Card's solution to making the play more interesting in his eyes is to eliminate all the moral arguments and ambiguities that made the original play so fascinating?  To take complex and troubled characters and reduce them down to "good or evil, black or white, nothing in between"?  I'm sorry, but no.  You don't get to do that to Hamlet.  Pure "good vs. evil" works in 80s kids' cartoons (somewhat), but most people prefer their heroes and villains more complex than just "ultimate pure good vs. cackling kitten-eating evil."

Save the kittens, write more complex villains!

While swimming one day, Hamlet tells Laertes that he wishes Claudius were his father, and Laertes goes off on him.

Laertes turned on him savagely -- angrily, even.  "Do you wish your mother were an adultress, then?  Or do you wish her not to be your mother, either?"

"I was just... wishing," said Hamlet.  "Father hates me, so I might as well not be his son."

Laertes looked out across the water, his face dark with -- what, anger?  "There is no boy happier than the King's own son," he said. -- p. 16

Red flag #4...

Laertes tells Hamlet to stop worrying about his father's approval, that a good king doesn't surround himself with "toadies who will always tell him that he's wonderful and brilliant" and instead work to become the kind of man he wants to be.  Decent advice...  He also says that if he got his wish and hung around with his father all the time, he'll just become a terrible king like he is.  I'm sorry, I don't recall the king being terrible in the original play... I know, Card did say he was shredding the play as he wrote this, but still, this irks me.

Laertes gets out of the water, and we get THIS lovely bit:

Hamlet watched him, thinking two things:

Why is there no one I can talk to about the things that matter most to me?

How beautiful he is. 

Um... wow.  For as reportedly homophobic as Card is, this is a major Ho Yay moment.  Remember this moment, I plan on coming back to it later...

Hamlet wonders if his father chose to surround him with Companions (why is that capitalized this is gonna bug me all book) more beautiful and lovely (his exact words) than he was to make sure he never thought of himself highly.  He also wonders if he was a horrible baby to make his father hate him as soon as he was born, but Yorick tells him no.

"All I have of my father is his name," said Hamlet.

"What if his greatest gift," said Yorick, "is to give you no gift?"

"Which is the greater fool," answer (sic) Hamlet, "the fool who thinks he's wise, or the fool who knows he's a fool and plays the part?"

"The fool who knows he's a fool is wise, and therefore no fool," said Yorick.  "But the greater fool is the wise man who does not know he is wise, for then he follows not his own council." -- p. 17

Star Wars did it better

More chatter with Yorick that doesn't amount to much, and we have a page break.  Whee.

We skip forward to the last time Hamlet saw his father alive -- at sword practice.  And of course Hamlet is so good with a sword he no longer fences with boys his own age but with the grown men.  Because Hamlet's last name is Stu, apparently.  At least we actually see him training, I guess, instead of learning swordplay in two weeks like Eragon...

Anyhow, once sword practice is over Hamlet goes and kneels to his father, who scolds him for getting his leggings dirty.  Because we can't forget that Hamlet's dad is EVIL and a jerk, I guess.

So the king is dissolving the Fellowship... I mean the Companions and sending Hamlet off to school in Heidelberg.  Hamlet assumes this means his dad despises him, because just like Eden everything has to be about Hamlet.  *sigh*

I'm only at about Page 20 of this thing, and was hoping to push forward to 30, but this post is already pretty long, so I think I'll stop here for now.  This is enough to establish that Hamlet's a Mary Sue, there are ominous red flags pointing towards Card's controversial ending to the story, and Card's solution to making the story "interesting" is to chop out anything that might be morally ambiguous or complex and reduce one of the greatest psychological studies in the theater world to an utterly banal story of "good vs. evil."

I need a freaking drink.  And by "drink" I mean "go eat ice cream."  

Gimmie... I deserve it for getting THIS far...

Hamlet's Father Cover - What Nightmares May Come

We interrupt this Revealing Eden sporking to bring you a quick spork of Hamlet's Father!  The bonus sporking that nobody asked for!

Hamlet's Father is by Orson Scott Card, and was originally published in 2008 by Tor Books, as part of an anthology titled Ghost Quartet, edited by Marvin Kaye.  It was re-printed as a stand-alone novella in 2011 by Subterranean Press (which, incidentally, also publishes one of my favorite steampunk series, The Clockwork Century).  Subterranean Press's printing was a limited run of only 1,000 books, so I guess I'm lucky I got my hands on a copy at all.

Orson Scott Card, for those who might not know, is no Victoria Foyt who had to self-publish to get his work to see the light of day.  He's a HUGE name in the science fiction community, probably best known for his bestselling novel Ender's Game, though he's also written such series as Alvin Maker, the Homecoming saga, and the religious novels Women of Genesis, as well as miscellaneous fantasy, sci-fi, and religious fiction series and stand-alones.

Anymore, however, Card seems to have gained a reputation for using his books as a soapbox for his political views.  TV Tropes has an entry for him on their Fallen Creator page, which reads thusly:

Orson Scott Card is also an excellent example of this trope in action.  Between Ender's Game, Speaker for the Dead, the early books of the Alvin Maker series, and even his work on games like Monkey Island, Card was easily one of the best sci-fi/fantasy authors of the '80s and early '90s.  But he took a turn with the increasingly political and continuity-contradictory Ender's Shadow series and Advent Rising.  Now Card can't seem to write anything without having to rehash his political views and run them smack dab into the plot as he did in Empire.  His online non-fiction essays and blogosphere reaction to them also made his more controversial social and political views much more visible and hotly-debated, reaching a peak with an article (which he later back-pedalled from) that appeared to suggest that legalisation of gay marriage in the US would justify armed revolution against the government.  Now just the mere mention of his name can cause problems, such his work on the plot for Shadow Complex.

Then under another bullet they have this addition, which got me interested in this book in the first place (warning for spoilers):

Then he rewrote Hamlet and explained that Hamlet's father was a gay pedophile who was killed by Horatio because he molested him as a child. Oh and he, Laertes, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern all turned gay because of it.  It ends with Hamlet damned to Hell, where his father tells them now they can be together.  This was initially published in an anthology, and then someone somehow decided that it should have a wider release.

What the frag...

Welp... needless to say, this book hasn't gone over very well with Card's fanbase, Shakespeare buffs, or readers in general.  With a 2.6-star rating on Amazon and a 2.56-star rating on Goodreads, it rates only slightly better than Revealing Eden, though part of me thinks that's mostly because Card is an established writer who was partially saved by his prior reputation, whereas Foyt didn't even have a reputation to squander.

Card himself had a rebuttal to all the hate and backlash this book has gotten... but I'll save his reaction for the end.  It's a doozy...

I did not purchase this book -- I actually had our library ship it in from a library in Oregon.  I honestly did not feel like shelling out twenty to sixty bucks for a book that I would only read once, probably hate, and then be stuck with because it feels wrong to throw away or burn a book that costs that much, especially a signed limited-edition copy.  (For the record, this copy happens to be #139 out of 1,000, and yes, is signed by Orson himself.)

Looking at the cover of this book... it's actually pretty decent.  The cover art is a bit murky-looking, but given that the play it's based on is a tragedy, gloomy cover art isn't necessarily a bad thing.  Said art is hand-painted (credited to one Tom Kidd, who also did interior illustrations) and portrays a dead king on a bench in a garden, with a hooded ghost/angel looking on from the garden gate.  This doesn't look like a scene from the play, but it's possible the artist took some creative license, or just decided to combine two of the most famous images from the play into one image.

Summary from the dust jacket:

We all know Shakespeare's classic ghost story -- the young prince Hamlet's dead father appears to him, demanding vengeance upon Hamlet's uncle Claudius, who has usurped the throne and, to add insult to injury, married Hamlet's mother.

Hamlet dithers and delays, coming up with reason after reason to postpone his vengeance.  But it's not for the reason Shakespeare told us.  It's because Hamlet keeps discovering evidence that things are not quite what they seem in the Kingdom of Denmark -- and never have been, throughout Hamlet's entire life.

Once you've read Orson Scott Card's revelatory version of the Hamlet story, Shakespeare's play will be much more fun to watch -- because now you'll know what's really going on.

Hmmm... seems a bit presumptuous for the publisher to claim that this book tells the REAL story about Hamlet.  It's one thing to claim that your book is an alternate retelling, or even "Hamlet as you've never seen it before," but for Card to claim that his story is the "TRUE AND HONEST" story of how Hamlet really went down seems rather arrogant to me.  Orson, it's okay to admit you've written Shakespeare fanfic, you don't have to pretend Hamlet was broken and you had to fix it...

Strap yourselves in, folks -- we're about to go for a ride.  And for those of you disappointed that the longer sporking is being paused, don't worry.  This should only take a few posts...

Chapter 17 -- Too Bad They're Not the Berries from Hunger Games...

The book I mentioned in the last post is on its way to the library, so I should have my grubby hands on it soon!  Like I said, I don't anticipate a huge delay in the Revealing Eden posts, since this one's pretty short, but hopefully people will enjoy this one regardless.  It's controversial and (reportedly) horrible in its own right, from what I've read, and made even better/worse by the fact that it comes from a famous and respected writer instead of a random self-published yahoo like Foyt.

In the meantime, let's move on to the Furry Romance... I mean the next chapter of Revealing Eden.

The last chapter ended with Eden and Bramford cuddling just after nearly drowning in a river thanks to Eden's stupidity.  And because this is Revealing Eden, the next chapter opens with a bird singing and Eden immediately calling it by its Latin name.  I could whittle the drinking game down to "take a drink every time Eden calls a plant or animal by its Latin name" and someone would still get black-out drunk reading this stupid book...

Also, out of curiosity's sake, I looked up the particular bird she used in this scene, a black-faced solitaire.  It lives in Costa Rica and Panama, not Ecuador -- and none of those countries even share borders, so it's not like one blundered on over from a neighboring area either.  If you're going to do your research on wildlife, Foyt, maybe you should focus on what species are indigenous to your location instead of just looking up the Latin names...

Bramford starts to wake up, and we get more "romantic" writing that sounds more like one of the X-Men just discovering their powers.

He began to stir, his hand falling down the length of her back, leaving a trail of electric sparks.  She gasped, as they exploded in her brain. -- p. 119

FYI, don't Google "head explosion" if you just ate

or don't want to hate yourself...

Have I mentioned lately that Foyt's attempts at writing good similes and metaphors, or romantic prose, or much fiction in general, stink?  I'm sure I must have at some point...

Anyhow, Bramford gets up, and we get the lovely revelation that his pants are "in tatters."  Thankfully we don't get a detailed description full of horrible metaphors about his junk...  He growls at Eden and walks away, and she immediately thinks "beast" at him.  He just nearly drowned trying to save your sorry butt from your own Darwin-Award-worthy stunt, girl, I think he's got a right to be a little ticked at you.  Plus, have you not realized yet that people just don't have the time to lavish attention on you 24/7?  Or are you just that egocentric?

Bramford finds a gourd and uses it to get a drink from the lake, Eden watches him drink like a creeper and then admires the scenery, we get the Latin name for the ducks on the lake for no good reason, yadda yadda yadda.  Also, Eden misses her Life-Band and states that the real world feels "unreal" without it.  Was this supposed to be a commentary on our Internet-addicted world?  Maybe this book would have been better if it focused on THAT instead of racism, even if it would have made it a weak Ready Player One ripoff...

Bramford offers her water, and we get... you guessed it, more awkwardly-written attraction!

Her hand brushed against his, as she took the gourd from him.  Once more she felt a crazy, magnetic pull towards him.  She could feel his eyes burning into her as she gulped thirstily. -- p. 120

Eden realizes she can now drink as much water as she wants without rationing and laughs, which gets Bramford glaring at her in disgust.  She, of course, assumes it's because she "looked like a freak," but it's something else.

"At least I'm alive.  Thanks to you."  It sounded like an accusation, which Eden immediately regretted.

Bramford stiffened.  "You could have gotten us both killed."

"No one asked you to come in after me."

"What was I supposed to do?  Let you drown?"

"What do you care?"  -- p. 121

Now to be fair, Eden DOES thank him for saving her life here... but she does it in such a way that it still sounds pretty ungrateful.  And her getting snarky at the guy who just saved her life really isn't winning her any brownie points here.

Bramford looks like he wants to hit her -- and in a weird Fifty-Shades-ish twist, Eden "almost" wants him to hit her -- but instead he offers her a handful of acai berries and says they'll relieve her oxy-deprivation.  Hmmm, maybe I spoke too soon last chapter, but the point stands that I still haven't seen her show symptoms of withdrawal, so I still maintain that Foyt should have either researched drug addition or just dropped that sub-plot entirely.

Shockingly, we don't get the Latin name for acai berries... but despite them being toted as a superfood  and antioxidant online and being able to cure anything from diabetes to impotence, I can't find anything that claims they can relieve drug withdrawal symptoms.  Well, I suppose people make up enough claims about the health benefits of acai, why not Foyt?  She seems happy enough making other stuff up... though am I just being picky, expecting a fiction writer to do their dang research?

At least she's not trying to pass hers off

as actual fact, I suppose...

Eden decides to be a brat and refuses to eat, so Bramford eats the berries.  Eden wonders how they're going to get back to her father, and Bramford announces they're not going back.

"But what about my father?"

Bramford's eyes narrowed with a faraway look.  Eden had the eerie feeling he could see into the future, maybe like El Tigre, after all.  But that was impossible. -- p. 122

Argh... you just barely found out about this totally-made-up god, how do you know he can even see into the future?  I suppose that's just an assumed power of gods in general, but still... and the fact that they're still going on about this El Tigre god who's NOT EVEN A REAL MYTH, let alone one worshiped by this particular tribe, makes the mythology buff in me want to flip a table.

Me too, Prowl... me too

Bramford says they'll meet the Huaorani back at camp.  Eden asks where it is, hoping to backtrack and get the Life-Band again, but Bramford refuses to tell her.

"What?  Do you think I'll tell someone?" she said, with a pang of guilt.  That was exactly what she hoped to do.

He cocked an eyebrow.  "Given the chance, you'd betray me in a heartbeat."

"Betray you?  I didn't ask to come here.  I just want to go home."

"We don't always get what we want, Eden." -- p. 122

For being the designated Hate Sink of the novel, Bramford is really the only reasonable and smart character, random Latin names notwithstanding.  Between this, his heroic nature, and the fact that he's the only character who will call Eden on her bullcrap, he's pretty much my favorite character from this book... or really, the only character I don't want to see die in a fire or get eaten.  It's a shame the author seems to want us to dislike him along with Eden.

Eden thinks "what did Bramford know about disappointment" but then sees his new furry form and figures now he knows what it's like to be different.  I'm sorry, but even if you've flipped around who's the persecuted race and who's not, this comes across as uncomfortable.

Then Eden mouths off to him again.

"Maybe I should have let you sink," he said, turning on her.

"Well, why didn't you?  How am I supposed to survive by day?  And what's going to happen to my father in this sinkhole?  Did you think of that when you kidnapped us and brought us here" --she jerked her arm in an arc-- "to this deserted, sunny place?  No, as usual, you only thought about yourself-"

Alas, this doesn't happen...

Bramford jumped on her, pinning her beneath him.  His brutally handsome face hovered over hers.  Eden stared, transfixed, into fiery eyes as an unfamiliar fluttering darted in her chest, like a small bird released from its cage.  She kicked her feet and squirmed, but she was powerless against him. -- p. 122-123

Mandatory squicked-out Starscream face

Eden taunts him, telling him he'd enjoy tearing her to pieces.  At this point, girl, who wouldn't?  Bramford calls her a pain in the ass and forces her to eat the berries, which she says are "almost as good as oxy."  I'm pretty sure most of the medical claims regarding acai are bogus, Foyt... stop acting like they can cure drug addiction or give you a high.

(On an aside note, as I was trying to come up with a title for this post I suddenly thought "wouldn't it be great if these were the nightlock berries from Hunger Games and our protagonist just dropped dead from poisoning in this chapter?  Wishful thinking...)

Bramford then picks up Eden and carries her piggyback, saying she won't be able to walk where they're going.  O...kay?  This just leads to more awkward quasi-romantic (queasy-romantic?) dialogue.

Eden tentatively wrapped her legs around his broad back, barely able to encircle his girth.  In spots, Bramford's downy fur rubbed against her skin, surprisingly pleasant.  A faint shudder ran through her. -- p. 124

Bramford tells her to hold on, and we get a doozy of a closing paragraph, which just happens to be another infamous excerpt that's made the rounds of the Internet.

She sunk her fingers into his long silky hair, like reins on a horse.  As if she controlled the beast.  Eden knew it wasn't true, but she enjoyed the illusion just the same. -- p. 124

...no.

Just... no.  I just... no.  NO.  WHAT THE FLYING FRAKKITY FRAG ARE YOU DOING FOYT AAAAAAAARGHasleplkalskdjfls... *bangs head on keyboard*

...

...sorry, I just needed a moment there.  The sheer audacity of that line just floors me every time I come across it (like I said, I'd previously seen it in reviews and on blogs talking about this book).  Foyt goes on and on about how this book is supposed to show Caucasians how terrible racism is, but yet again it's indulging in some pretty horrific racist imagery of its own.  Having a white girl riding a big black man like a horse, flat-out calling him a beast and enjoying the feeling of controlling him, evokes all kinds of disgusting mental images, even if you do keep your mind out of the gutter...

Boy, this book is SLOW.  It seriously feels like nothing much has happened story-wise since the labs blew up.  For all its unfortunate implications and awful moments, there are huge chunks that are just boring and a pain to slog through.  In a sick sort of way I almost welcome those moments that make me want to chuck the book into a bonfire, because even if they're terrible at least they're interesting.  Too bad Foyt couldn't seem to make the book interesting in a GOOD way.