I have decided to commit this blog more seriously to reviews of books and movies, hopefully posted with some sort of regularity. 

(I think I mentioned in my introductory post the possibility that this blog could contain a great number of reviews.  Then again, it could also contain a great number of posts about narwhal conservation efforts.  We’ll see.)

So, for what might as well be called the first official installment, I offer a book review, a movie review, and one deluxe book-and-movie combo review.

The first: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream [book]

This may not be the most hip-and-with-it book I could have chosen for my first big-girl review, but as it’s the book I’ve read most recently, I’m reviewing it anyway. 

This book is Hunter S. Thompson’s epic tale of drug use and depravity at their most basic—in the early ’70s, in Las Vegas.  That’s already more or less common knowledge, isn’t it?  It became alarmingly clear over the week it took me to read this book that everyone else has already read it.  At least in my social circles, anyway.  Out in the world, it has probably inspired far fewer cults than one would assume after five minutes discussing the book with my friends.  Still, I had the feeling I was missing out on something, so I read it.

All in all, a very good book.  Regardless of how outrageous or offensive you find the subject material to be, Hunter S. Thompson was an undeniably talented writer.  He had a sort of off-beat, stream-of-consciousness writing style, but it’s refreshing, and it works well, particularly with this book. 

The plot was straightforward and easy to follow, much to my relief.  I know very little about drugs, and even less about drug culture, but Thompson was kind enough to put in little asides of explanation that were surprisingly patient and educational, despite dealing with such blatantly illegal subjects.

Actually, my only complaint about the book would be that it wasn’t long enough.  It was a fun book to read, but very short; the kind that could probably be read, if not in a single sitting, in under two days by the average reader.  (I mentioned earlier that it took me a week to read, but only because, like Raoul Duke and Dr. Gonzo with their stores of drugs and alcohol, I tried to ration it.)

Still, I think the book’s compactness adds, if only aesthetically, to it’s appeal.  Most readers would be somewhat hesitant about diving into a book about harsh, unrelenting recklessness if the book in question were 500 pages long.

I’d say this book deserves all the attention it’s received, and more. 

9/10 stars.

The second: National Treasure: Book of Secrets [movie]

I have less to say about this film than I did about the book.  I’m always somewhat hesitant to give genuinely bad reviews, but this movie merits one, to be sure. 

If you lower your expectations before walking into the theater, you’ll probably be alright.  I wasn’t crazy about the first National Treasure film, so the poor quality of the sequel didn’t come as too great a shock. 

The main idea of the first film remains unchanged in this new film: Everyone is incompetent, including Nicholas Cage, but Nicholas Cage can hide his incompetence so well that he is able to run about and wreak havoc, free of any legal or financial consequences.

Admittedly, it wasn’t completely horrendous.  There have been movies made in which every character’s motive is sketchy, every aspect of the plot is pointless, and every line of dialouge is cringe-worthy.  This, thankfully, was not one of them.  While this film contained very little to reedeem it, the forces condemning it were not particularly strong.

If you’re interested in getting together with some friends, consuming a mega-tub of popcorn, and watching a series of pointless car chases, then this movie will suit your needs just fine.

Still, you’d be much better off renting Die Hard and staying home.

4/10 stars.

And finally: Perfume: The Story of a Murderer [book AND movie]

Alright, I’m about to start gushing praise in every direction, so brace yourself.

It’s been almost a year since I read the book, and I probably wouldn’t have reviewed it, but I watched the movie for the second time earlier this week, so I have the story on my mind. 

Everything—about both the book and the movie—is perfect.

I’m being very serious here, and I hope that will come across.  Despite what I said earlier about not giving awful reviews, I don’t really give rave reviews, either.  There are pros and cons with everything, especially creative endeavors like film and writing.  With Perfume, however, there aren’t any cons I could present.

Perfume is set in the 18th century in France.  The main character, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, is born a prodigy of the olfactory who pursues, in delightful and disturbing ways, the ability to capture scent.

As I mentioned, it’s been a while since I read the book.  I won’t make any statements about the writing style, then—just read it, and see for yourself.

If, for some inexplicable reason, you choose not to read the book, then see the movie.  Even if that too-brief plot summary I offered above doesn’t pique your interest in the slightest, see the movie.  The soundtrack is stunning, the cinematography is stunning, the scenery and the casting are flawless—every frame of this film is like a work of art. 

As I said, I don’t normally go crazy like this, for movies or books of any kind.  I’m rarely comfortably launching into brash declarations of uninhibited adoration, as I have already done several times with Perfume.  And I certainly wouldn’t say that everyone who reads Perfume or sees the movie will love it.

But I will promise you that you won’t hate it. 

10/10 stars.

One last note—I lied; I did enjoy one aspect of seeing National Treasure: Book of Secrets in theaters, and that was the preview for Be Kind, Rewind.  The trailer is available here on YouTube.  I thought it was very cute and funny; I hope the movie itself is as good.  If nothing else, it has the impeccable Paul Dinello (seen at 1:47 in the trailer). 

This blog will contain: the thoughts, observations, and biased opinions of a Small-Town, USA girl.

This post contains: an introduction including a bit about the blog and a bit about me.

Call me Ishmael.  No, kidding; call me Sam.  I’m a Hebrew-speaking, guitar-and-piano-playing, Jewish liberal.  For the past year, I’ve harbored a growing adoration for—and even a sort of obsession with—the Age of Sail (described by Wikipedia as “period in which international trade and naval warfare were dominated by sailing ships”).  Expect posts about Age of Sail literature and websites and the like.

Which brings me to this blog.  I recently read (and was captivated by) the book In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex, by Nathaniel Philbrick.  The Essex was rammed twice by a whale and subsequently sank on November 20th, 1820.  The crew of 20 escaped in three of the ship’s whaleboats, one of which was later lost.  Over the four months following the wreck of the Essex, twelve men died, seven of whom were eaten by other crewmembers.  The boat containing Captain George Pollard and one other crewmember was discovered 95 days after the sinking of the Essex by the whaleship Dauhpin.  Hence, Dauphin saves.  (I should probably mention, however, that the blog title—”Feeling Poetic in the Opium Den”—is not an Age of Sail reference, only a phrase from a recent conversation with a friend about 19th century writers.)

The book was amazing.  Despite Philbrick’s clinical and often blunt way of writing about the horrors suffered by the men, it was a fascinating, engaging story.  (And, as I’m also a huge fan of Thomas Harris and Hannibal Lecter, In the Heart of the Sea featured my two great literary loves—cannibalism and tall ships.)

And there’s my introduction!  In all honesty, I doubt many people will read this blog, but you never know; maybe there really are a few people in the blogosphere who want nothing else than to read the book reviews, political commentaries, and useless trivia found in my inexperinced mind.