Religion in Society

I find that religion can play a huge role in society. It started the Crusades. It caused millions of Jews to die in the Holocaust. It causes numerous of genocides and deaths. And yet, religion is a requisite necessity. It is something that the world cannot live without and it is something that humans desperately need. Because when everything is gone, taken away, destroyed the only thing that is left is that measly bit of hope and the crumbling beliefs that a better time will come. While, the role of religion in society has already been discussed many times in Night, I still am compel to “rant” more on this because I feel as though the few times we had gone over this in Night was definitely not enough to satisfy my hunger to understand.

In the mistress of the Art of Death, religion first fueled the animosity for the Jews of Cambridge by the Christians. Not only was it that, but it even fueled the rivalry between Christianity itself. The monks from Saint Augustine were displeased with the nuns from Saint Radegund’s while the nuns over in Saint Radegund harbored an aversion for those from Saint Augustine. And this was only because these two for from two different monastery. They shared the same faith, the same religion, and the same cause and yet they disliked each other because the other was not them. Because of “religion” people were divided up and conflicts could easily ignite from any single spark.

And when that single sparked was created by the murder of the four children, people didn’t bother to resist the temptation of accusing each other to consign the other’s importance and greater their own. Many accused the Jews because they were easy targets. They became the scapegoats so that in a way these people could avoid suspicion them selves. According to the people, the Jews were the one who had killed Jesus Christ and so they were just as evil as the devil himself. And if they were truly that evil then why should it not be their fault? This was their logic. And because of this, innocent people were condemned to death. Other innocent people lost their homes while some lost their parents, or siblings, or relative. Because of religion, many innocent people died. Because while religion might be a good thing but in the hands of some people, religion could be turn into the greatest of all weapon because no one dares to disclaim it for fear of being accuse them selves.

Because of this, religion becomes a part of humanity that can never be extinguished. No matter what, religion will always impact society as long as society remains.

Crucifixion of an Angel

In the Mistress of the Art of Death, murders are committed throughout the town of Cambridge. And even more sinfully, the deceased are children. In one of the first murder committed, an apparent witness claimed that she saw the child crucified. I find this important because this alludes to one of the most powerful events in history, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.

However, instead of seeing the child as the one crucified, I find that the murder seems to be more like a crucifixion of an angel. In a way that is what it symbolizes to me. A child is pure and untainted by the evils of the world because they are still young and naive, much in way that angels are perceived. By murdering a child, it is almost like murdering an angel.

Not only that, but the death of this child sparked outrage among the people of Cambridge. After this incident, everybody turned their hatred on the Jews because the Jews were the one who had “crucified Jesus”. This death caused people to turn a blind eye on what the basis of their religion even tells them do - which is to do good and not evil. And yet, ironically, for their religion they fuel their hatred for the Jews and accuse them of this murder. In a way, not only had a child died but so did humanity or rather the ethics of humanity - that of which is the center of all good. And in a way, this is also the murder of an angel that of which symbolizes all good.

Adelia; Part 2

Adelia is a tree! Well, not really. But sometimes I feel as though she’s the reincarnation of one. In my previous post, I stated how she was just like the modern feminist who’s strong, reliable, and independent. Even now, several chapters later, I still feel as though she hasn’t changed at all.

Now, about the tree... Well, when you think about it, a tree is strong and capable. To me a tree symbolizes strength because no matter how much the rain may pour or how much the wind may blow, a tree can always remain standing. No matter what it goes through, a tree will usually still be deeply rooted into the ground. In a way, a tree symbolizes how Adelia is so firmly rooted. It shows how independent and strong she is.

Not only that, but it also depicts that weaker side of her. No matter how strong a tree is, without water or sunlight it will still die. Even though, it may be strong and can withstand any obstacle, in truth it is very dependent on something else. Just like Adelia. No mater how strong she think she is, in reality she is very dependent on the people around her. Even though she may want to deny it but just like a tree she can only remain firmly on the ground if there is water and sunlight. She needs other people to care for her. Either directly or indirectly, she needs people to look after her. She has people that she is dependent on.

Adelia; First Impressions

So far, what do I think of Vesuvia Adelia Rachel Ortese Aguilar? Well, I think she is the embodiment of a modern feminist. She is strong, independent, and she doesn’t need male to help her. She is able to stand up for her own, however though, at certain points in the book it is clear that she is weaker than she cares or want to admit. For example when she was on the hill alone and Sir Gervase was coming towards her, she knew she needed help but instead of screaming for help like any other sensible young lady of her time then she had held her pride in higher priority and stood her ground. Brave of her to do so, I must admit, but it was also incredibly stupid and unreasonable. If her “bodyguard” Mansur wasn’t there with the slinging axe, then it would have been very apparent that she would have been undeniably hurt. It was also when I got to this point that I decided that Adelia is a very proud person. Or would arrogant be a better word? She puts pride above many of her other priorities and even the risk to her own personal safety could not persuade her to lift her head down a bit. Not only that but Adelia prides herself with the respect other gives her. She thrives on being able to assure herself that she is strong all by herself. She doesn’t want to have to depend on anyone else, which is rather imprudent of her I think. Even though I know the feeling of wanting to accomplish something by your self, I still believe that working together as group is not anything disgraceful. Relying on help is okay, especially when you need it. Refusing it is what would be stupid.
Another thing, I don’t think of Adelia as just someone who commands respect. She is also a person with a good natured but too professional heart. She truly cares for her patients but she acts too aloof, too professional like and that is even to people who are not her patients but people who are her colleagues. There is just something about her that just screams “Get away from me, I don’t need you!” Her persona though truly kind shows off as too cold. She is just too emotionally distant from her peers. It seems as though she wants to detached herself from them in fear of getting too close. Or perhaps she just doesn’t want to think of herself as weak by relying on people, which means she can’t be friends with them because that would be like saying that she needs their friendship which completely destroys the whole “I’m strong. I’m independent and I can do whatever motif.”

However I could be wrong about her. I had thought that Sophie Neveu from The Da Vinci Code was too detached as well, but Sophie had slowly started to change and perhaps Adelia will too. Perhaps later on, Adelia will find that one person that could make her accept wanting to have other people there for her.

The Mistress of the Art of Death

At first when I only just began to read the book, I thought it was one of the most amazing books I had ever read. Yes, the writing style was marvelous. Actually, in truth it was truly in all honesty superb and the even vocabulary use was amazing- just by reading the book I had found most of my vocabulary words for my vocabulary goals. And not only had that but the writing style really fit the type that I had always liked. It wasn’t too complex so I didn’t need to die of my brain imploding but it wasn’t preschool easy either. Actually I had to go back and reread some parts even but somehow even though I had to go through the book more than once it was written in a way that I went back to read for emphasize and not for clarification (confusing, ha?). The author is just one of those types of author that can craft brilliant plots with intricate details and great writing. I have to say, reading this book has now made me an avid fan of the author (and I’m only 1/6 of the way into the book). Even though I haven’t gotten far, I’m really in love with this book. It’s like a mixture of CSI and historical nonfiction but not gouge my eyes out boring. Also the author is able to craft suspense beautifully into the plot that it made me latched onto the edges of the pages like a leech. I had to pry myself from the sheets of thin paper in fear of paper cuts before I finally let the book down. Overall, this is a really interesting book that I have very high hopes for. I can’t wait to read what’s next. Even now, my mind is filled with images of rolling hills and murdered bodies as I contemplate what will happen next.

Rudy's death

Even though Rudy’s death was foreshadowed in the book numerous of times I still could not prepare myself for his death. I had known he was going to die. I had known that from the beginning. And yet knowing was not enough. Nor was it enough to overcome the surge of emotions that overwhelmed me as I gripped the pages of the book hoping, wishing, desperately pleading that my eyes had betrayed me and Rudy Steiner, poor Rudy Steiner, did not die. And no matter how delusional I could be, it still wasn’t enough to overcome the knowledge of his death. (Can anything ever be enough?) I mean really it was written out in plain English. As plain as could be. Even if my eyesight did fail me, I could still read enough to know that he had died.

However, that was much contradicted right? Isn’t it not? Knowing not enough to overcome hope and hope not enough to overcome knowing. Hmmm. I’m not making any sense, but yet I am. I guess what I’m saying is that while I hope that he didn’t die and I still know he did and nothing will ever change that (of course unless the author decided to miraculously raise him from the dead, however, I highly doubt the possibility that Markus Zusak will ever do it. Or will he?) But still, it was so unbelievably unbelievable that Rudy Steiner had just died. (Now I’m being redundant...) I guess perhaps I just can’t believe it because of my deep rooted love for him. No, I don’t love him like that, but it’s rather that I love him as a loveable, easygoing, and good natured character (okay, maybe the last part is a bit of a stretch but Rudy does have his good points here and there). And for some reason I just hate to see characters go. No hate is too wrong. It should be more somewhere along the lines of a passionate loathing or abhorrence for character deaths. It’s the one thing I absolutely hate to have to tolerate in books. Maybe, I’m just way too attached to the characters (that’s an understatement). And perhaps I am (extreme understatement). But Rudy really shouldn’t have died. He was such a good person. He was a great neighbor. He was an awesome friend. And yet he died. Rudy Steiner really did not deserve to die such a pathetic death. Actually, he doesn’t deserve to die at all. He should have been able to live a happy rest of his life. And he should have a great future ahead for him. More so he should have a great future for him and Liesel (This couple is way too cute together. And when Liesel kissed Rudy after he died only fueled my love for this pairing even more. However that fueled my hatred for his death even more as well.)

And all in all... as you can clearly interpret from my long rant, Rudy Steiner really does not deserve to die. He was one of the few characters I absolutely adored in the book. I even liked him more than I liked Liesel. He’s was that charming spark of life and charisma in the book. He was even my favorite character in the whole story. And it really sucked that he had to die. It really sucks a lot...

Liesel and Rudy's relationship

As Death had said Rudy and Liesel were destined to become friends. Rudy was the type of guy who enjoyed being around girls. He was the type who actually wasn’t afraid of cooties and embraced the opposite sex fairly well. Liesel was the tough girl. The new girl on the street who was the only goalie that ever managed to deflect his penalty kick. It was like a friendship waiting to happen when the first snowball was thrown in the face.

I find that the friendship between Liesel and Rudy was forged fairly quickly. After a soccer match, some snow, a school walk, and a marathon which ended with them encrusted in dirt they were already friends. However this friendship seemed to be the type where both would only acknowledge it only to themselves. They enjoyed each other’s company and cared for the other but they expressed in the form of verbal abuse. Rather then declare their fondness for each other to the rest of the world; they hide their friendship in a rubble of insults. Every time one would call the other a “saukerl” it was their way of saying “my friend”. Not only do they enjoy insulting each other they also like to tease each other as well. Rudy would always ask Liesel for a kiss and Liesel would reply with either a form of insult or physical injury. If he was lucky, she just ignores him. To me, it is a strange form of friendship but it was their unique own way of expressing to the other how they care. It’s as if they don’t know how to express it in any other way.

Symbol of Books

As the title has already suggested, one major component of this novel centers on books. Books are the primary drive of the plot. Books are first mentioned when Death remarks that he saw the book thief three times.

The first time, one of the gravediggers- a fourteen year old boy- had accidently dropped his book on the cold snowy ground. Minutes later The Grave digger’s Handbook was in the possession of Liesel Meminger, marking the date as the start of her book stealing career. Although Liesel had no prior education since she had often skipped school in her younger years she had absolutely no knowledge of reading but yet she still stole a book. I believe that at that time, she didn’t steal for the sake of stealing but for the sake of having something. When her brother died, it was like Liesel was left with nothing but an empty void. She needed something to hold on to; something to fill in that empty gap. And so she took the book as her only possession. The book was the only thing she had and it was also a symbol of remembrance to her dead brother. At that time when she had nothing to remember him by, the book was the only object that connected him to her. The sight where she first stole the book was also the sight where her brother had been buried. To Liesel the book served as a treasured memory. Even if she couldn’t read, the book was an important part of her.

Books also symbolize Liesel’s passion to improve and her achievement in this area. When she had first arrived at the Hubermann’s doorstep she was uneducated and could not read nor write. But after the humiliation of being place in a younger class and the sudden need to be able to read The Grave Digger’s Handbook, she begins to slowly advance. Her passion for this is shown through how she always manages to stay up into the late of night just to have reading lessons with her father. We can clearly see Liesel’s love of reading and the books that she soon devours afterwards are the merits of attaining her goal. However though, books seem to also be the root cause of her crimes (apart from stealing apples or potatoes from farmers or ham and eggs from priests).

Liesel’s passion for reading goes so far that she would steal her second book from a Nazi book-burning. Liesel’s obsession with book stealing though is rather ironic considering her place in Nazi Germany. At that time, books were mostly condemned and many were burned. However Liesel instead obsesses over them. They are her most prized possessions. In a country where the Fuhrer was everything, there was a girl who only loved books, her family, and friends. Not only that, but Liesel finds a strange merit in stealing books. To her stealing them is a twisted way of rightfully earning them.
“She couldn’t tolerate having it given to her by a lonely, pathetic woman. Stealing it, on the other hand, seemed a little more acceptable. Stealing it, in a sick kind of sense, was like earning it.”

Colors

In the book, there are numerous of times where “color” is referred to. In the first few pages Death tells us that he likes to use color as a distraction- his saving grace. He wants to be able to enjoy every one of them, every single unique color of the spectrum (although his favorite is chocolate in the form of chocolate colored skies). This he says helps him cope. It helps him relax; to remain sane. But well of course from what? Certainly his job, but what else? Is it the just the monotony of it? Or the sheer annoyance that accumulates with time? What does Death need a distraction from? It can’t be us humans that are giving him a hard time. But this is precisely what he uses color to distract him from. Us. The ones still living, left behind by others who moved on ahead. Like the faded colors of a painting, still clinging desperately to the oil slick canvas while the bright ancestors were washed away from the passage of time.

Normally when humans perceive color, we remember the brightest one of all first. We are inclined to think of the neon yellows, sparkly hot pink, the light forest green first. Natural human perception this is. Remembering what stood out the most. However the colors that Death remembers are more basic. No shades of hues of different pastels but just the basic white, black, and red of the world.

White, Death claims is a color where as in the absence of color makes the color a color itself. (And you don’t want to argue with Death!). When one thinks of white, many think of nothingness, for isn’t white nothingness in itself? But then again is nothingness a something, an anything, or just a nothing?

Black is next. So what is black really? Others claim that black is the true absence of color where there is no hues of anything that it is just a void of nothing, just black empty black. So if black is the true nothingness, then white must be everything, right? Or is white the void and black the mixture of everything? Well, let’s talk in the metaphorical sense, no need to get scientific (but if you want then I can). In the book, I most definitely think white was the void of emptiness. This was when Liesel was left alone with nothing (Liesel Meminger is a young girl who was abandoned by her mother and left with her new foster parents on Himmel Street, the Hubermanns). You can argue and say that at that time she still had her mother, but I don’t think her mother really was there. Well, again, in the metaphorical sense. Her mother’s body was there; physically she was still with Liesel. But she wasn’t completely there. She was like a hollowed nut only the tough cracked shell remaining but the contents were all gone. However this leaves black. Black was when Liesel had everything. She wasn’t rich but she had everything she needed (again metaphorical sense, food does not fit in this equation). She had finally gained a family; she gained friends; she gained people who were still there, people who were in fact her whole life, her everything. But black is also when there was everything, but everything was all mixed up and spew out like a chaotic puzzle. You had the pieces, but you just couldn’t put them together. This was also when Liesel’s life was in a messed up jumble as well. The roads of her future, the paths of her past, and the inevitable present were all tangled up and the colors of each part of life were bleeding into each other creating the pit of black. But without the blinding white of her past, she would never get the black. These two colors are like the base of every pair, the perfect complements of each other. Without black there is nothing that is white. Without white there is nothing that is black. They are like the concept of yin and yang. You can say that without one there can certainly not be the other.

Finally this leaves us with red. How does red fit though? Black and white would be in everything. Every color had a bit of black or white. But not red. Red is untouched. It is in a different category of its own. Many people associate red with death or rather the passage of dying since red was the crimson color of blood. But to me red is linking between black and white. It was the middle of both extremes. With red, you would have something and you would have nothing. Red is the crossroads of one’s existence.

Death as the Business Man

Somehow I feel as though the persona of Death goes hand in hand with a businessperson. Death had already stated once that he was the average “Death” people love to associate him. He wasn’t the type to go around in a hood with a giant scythe. (However, I still love the giant scythe idea). Also sometimes, the book describes the act of passing on as like a business deal. It’s too systematic, too planned out. It’s almost like an assembly line type of work. A person would pass their life through the assembly line and at the end they would just be disposed of when they grew to “old”. But whenever someone would be disposed of, there would always be another person to take the original person’s place. It’s an endless cycle of birth, life, death, birth, life, death, birth, life, death, birth, life, death, birth, life, death, birth, life, death, birth, life, death, birth, life, death, and so on.

Somehow I feel as though life is too systematic. Death is too inevitable. This is why I always see death as like a business man. He always goes around in his suit arranging new deals, creating more factories, and more assembly lines. Each new deal seal would be another person dead. And then he would just collect the souls and another person would be born to fill the place. Too systematic, for my taste.

Death

One of the most interesting things about the book “The Book Thief” was that it was narrated from death’s point of view. I must say that this has got to be the first time I read such a quirk. However, since the narrator is death we get a very different point of view on the events in the book then we would get otherwise. And it adds a bit of humor (in a twisted deranged way) to a book centered on what was one of the most tragic events in history. And mostly it was just plain amusing.

"I am all truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic, though most people find themselves hindered in believing me, no matter my protestations. Please, trust me. I can most definitely be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that’s only the A’s. Just don’t ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.” [The book Thief, pg. 1]

At first I was a little more than surprise that the “I” who was talking was Death. But after the initial five second surprise I found that I rather liked the interesting plot twist so early in the novel. Death in this book was portrayed rather differently from what the general population’s idea of death. He was not a cruel devil who stole the souls of tormented humans but rather a guide carrying the lost souls on to a new life. A guide who loathes the monotony of his job, but ironically craves for color as a distraction to the curiosity of human nature.

Sir Leigh Teabing

Sir Leigh Teabing was the twist I never thought of. I had right from the beginning associated him with the good guys. He was that sweet old elderly man who acted like a grandfather figure for me. I still can’t believe that he ended up being the mastermind behind the whole thing. It’s rather unfeasible for me. I thought of him as one would think of as a friend’s grandfather. He was helpful, always giving Robert and Sophie advice. Always offering them help like when he had taken them to London in his plane even though he could have gotten arrested for helping a fugitive escape. And sometimes he would make a joke here and there, being that good old comic relief to a serious situation. Overall he was just an adorable old man. I felt feelings for him as I would for my own grandfather. He was just a lovable old (some what kooky) man.

And then BOOM. It hits me like a big fat red rubber ball when you accidently get stuck in a game of dodge ball. Somehow I never saw it coming. He ended up being evil. Well maybe not evil but the bad guy. Even after a few chapters that still haven’t registered in with me yet. I still see him as a sweet old elderly man whose obsession for the Holy Grail makes him do crazy things. I can make up excuses for him murdering people. Somehow I can justify his acts as his last wishes before he dies. But I know it’s wrong. Yet, I can’t help but not hate him. The feeling is very strange. It’s like you brain tells you to dislike that person but your heart is still unwillingly to accept that the person is actually truly bad. You still want to believe that it’s all a scam. And that the person is actually good. It’s like you’re in denial. And I truly was. I couldn’t accept the fact that he was bad because I wanted so much to believe that he was good. He had seemed so good! Even now I want to believe he is still good. That someone else is the true mastermind. I wonder why? Is it because I had so long before accepted him being good that now all of a sudden him being bad is just unthinkable? Or do I just love elderly people too much? (I always feel pity for them for some reason. I see them as adorable.)

Ergggg. It just irks me that he turns out to be bad. It was really a twist I never saw coming.

Sophie Neveu

At first her appearance came off as rather arrogant to me. She had that confident air around her that made her seem almost snobbish to a point. It was as if she was saying to the world “Look! I’m better than you are!” And it’s mostly because she had seemed so sure of herself and her actions in the first few chapters. Sophie knew how to handle people and she definitely knew how to handle Robert Langdon. She didn’t hesitate to tell Robert Langdon what he should do and shouldn’t do. She pretty much just ordered him around when they were trapped in the Louvre and trying to escape. She had to have everything her way. She had to be the one in power. It was like she needed that dominance over other people. Right then and there I decided that she was just another brat.

But after a few chapters, I finally begin to understand her as a deeper character than I had previously thought. She wasn’t arrogant. She was just a strong woman who disliked showing her weakness to the world. She desperately tried to hide being weak in front of other people especially males that she seemed so confidant while in fact she was truly fragile. She had been so mentally disturbed by her grandfather’s action a few years back in the book that she (to me) seems to have developed a mental block against all males. She doesn’t want to trust them since she was afraid they would go and do something that she would deem as inappropriate. She was afraid of being hurt by them that she had tried to show to everyone that she was strong. She tried to put up an illusion of always being sure of her self, of always being confident. That she didn’t need any male’s help. She could do it on her own. She didn’t want to be hurt.
However, that makes her the person she is. Without being strong she isn’t Sophie Neveu. It was thanks to those traits that the book even went on like it did. And I have to say I really liked those traits in her. It made her the unique woman in the book. And she had on numerous of occasions been the leader and the one to solve the mystery which would even perplex the great Robert Langdon. She had been the one to solve find the clue hidden in “The Madonna of the Rocks”. She even figured out the combination of her grandfather’s safe box.

Also I felt that she had changed as well. In the beginning of the book, Sophie had seemed distant. She was cold to everyone and had acted in that professional manner that was polite but never friendly. She was the type of person you can talk to but would never be friends with. And that was what she portrays to everybody. However during the course of the book, she begins to be more open. She loses her “professionalism” and drops whatever façade she had put up to save her self from getting hurt. She wasn’t just the Strong Woman she was before. She had fiannly begin to open up. She starts revealing herself more to Robert Langdon and even begins to trust him as a close friend. She tells him of her past and even the events that led to her estrangement with her grandfather. A fact of detail she had never told anybody else before she proves to the readers how close to he two has become and how much Sophie truly trusts Robert. And due to that bond and whatever else that made Sophie more open she even forgives her grandfather, something she hasn’t been able to do for ten long years.

Overall, I really fell in love with her character. She was a type of person who I can look up to as an idol. She was strong. She was smart. And she is friendly as well. She wasn’t just a brat, she was like a “Princess”.

Holy Grail, First Impressions

Religion is always a touchy subject for me. I feel as though in any stance or position that I take, I will always undoubtedly offend someone- of course I don’t absolutely mean to. It’s just that religion is one of those topics where attaining perfect harmony with anybody is unfeasible. It’s like trying to sing in unison but there’s always one person 3 beats ahead. Or somebody who is just horribly off tune. However, the topic of the Holy Grail is too provoking for me to resist.

Before I had ever discovered this novel, I had only known the Holy Grail as a chalice. Nothing more, nothing less. Although the reason behind this attitude of mine towards one of the world’s most intriguing artifact was mainly because I had no real fancy for it. It was interesting but that was all. It was nothing more to me than a cup. I probably cared more about my own ice cream cup than I did for the “chalice”. I couldn’t understand the addicting power it had possessed on so many. However now I can’t help but wonder if there is any more to this myth.

The Da Vinci Code (in my perspective) points to the assumption that the Holy Grail was truly the blood line of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. And not as the cup that Jesus had drank from at the Last Supper as many would have liked to believe. Even though I have heard of these speculations before on numerous of occasions, this time there was just so much facts that I couldn’t ignore. There were too many coincidences that the idea became credible in my mind. It was plausible, likely, feasible. So why not? I couldn’t help but think: Why not? And so there the seed was lodged deep into my conscience. The idea stuck to me like flies to fly paper. But of course I had doubts. A lot of them to be exact. Nevertheless, as I dug deeper into the book, the more I came to firmly believe in the bloodline. Too many coincidences. Still...

Is it just a cup? Or is it more? Is it really Jesus’ bloodline? Or just the chalice that held his blood? So many questions rage war inside my head as I desperately try to pin together the pieces of the puzzle. But with a blindfold on and some pieces missing. It seemed like a task even more strenuous than labor. And so I spent many endless nights, with a fervent fever, my mind in hysteria for the knowledge I craved to know yet cursed to be ignorant. (I wonder do all Histologists feel this way too).The idea of a conspiracy was just so addicting, the theories like a siren’s song seducing me into its realm, constantly teasing me with soothing whispers of cures to the disease. I can’t wait but to find out more...

First Impressions

To be honest, I absolutely adore mystery and adventure novels where the main characters go on some sort of “quest” so I was initially thrilled with the prospect of The Da Vinci Code where, the main characters Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveu would go on a hunt for the lost Holy Grail, rumored to be the chalice that Christ had drank from at the Last Supper, the night before his Crucifixion. Although I do tend to stay away from books that deal with religion since there always seem to be too much propaganda or what I call “religion marketing”, the idea of the quest seemed too intriguing that I felt a need to read that book to satisfied my thirsty curiosity- that coupled with the fact that I had heard a great many number of good reviews pertaining to the novel as well- I decided to go ahead and relieved myself from the parched land of inquisitiveness. Upon examining the first few chapters, I immediately fell into the hypnotic spell that seemed to be cast on any and all who choose to open the volume. I was immersed in such a well crafted world, that I could almost feel the cold Paris air, hear the sirens in the distant, and I was entranced to say the least. The details are above average, not really amazingly spectacular but it was vivid and well developed enough for me to be possibly enthralled. And I must say that Dan Brown has a wonderful ability to paint a scene into his reader’s mind so ingeniously that it pulls the reader from their reality into the one Brown had expertly sculpted. But what kept me most entertained was my own inquisitive nature. There were infinitely too many questions I had to have the answers to that it was all but impossible to put the book down. My mind was always repeating the same excuse: “Just one more page”. I always felt pressed that I didn’t know solution and that kept me awake for so long beneath the covers of my bed, too angered at my own ignorance. Even though I had only gotten through the first few chapters, it was an excitingly thrilling experience that had me beseeching into the late hours of midnight for more

Robert Langdon, Chapter 3-7

He still seems to be that semi-anti-hero type, but now I get a sense of his intelligence. He is very adept at deciphering the minds of the people around him even if he doesn’t seem to know them well. His perceptiveness is very intriguing as through his perception we can read other’s minds as well. For instance when he was talking to the French driver and agent, he noted the hidden agenda behind their questions to delve into his nature or rather the American nature and from this we get a taste of their thought process. (But this can also be seen as a generalization on his part for stating what one Frenchmen’s opinion to the rest so he may indeed be a slight tad biased to foreigners than to his fellow Americans.) However though, he seems to be unable to read Captain’s Fache. And as I had pointed out earlier, Robert Langdon seems to be a very “smart” person. Rather he is the knowledgeable type, like the person who always seems to know everything. You admire them for their intelligence, but sometimes you get annoy that they know so much which may make you feel belittled compare to them. And I also see this as a bit of possible foreshadowing. Perhaps later on, there’ll be a situation in which Robert Langdon can’t use his intelligence or maybe he doesn’t know everything, particular what he needs to know. Or maybe his intelligence is going to be his downfall? Perhaps by being too smart he puts himself in jeopardy. But from these chapters, I can safely conclude that Mr. Langdon is by far the one with the most superior knowledge as of the novel so far. Although Fache is also “smart” as well but he strikes me as the “street savvy” person more: the type who is guile, cunning, and crafty but not exactly the bookworm. He seems to know a lot more often than not, he should be the type who misunderstands what he thinks he knows. And maybe this is foreshadowing too. Perhaps he thinks he is right when in fact in that situation he was wrong

Robert Langdon, Chapter 1 & 2

So far, as I can tell from the novel (or from the first two chapter anyway), Robert Langdon seems to be the typical semi-anti-hero. He will be the person “who saves them all” but had not wanted to be the player of the role in the first place and shows resentment for position but then his feelings will change and he’ll embrace the hero within. He'll probably doen't want anything to do with what he "has" to do and even tries to ignore the position. But fate will be a cruel mistress and no matter how hard he'll run, fate just keeps coming back. That’s my prediction: a very, very typical character. Nevertheless I’m intrigued by how he’ll eventually be the savor of the day- (trust me he will!)

Houyhnhnms

I have never really thought of humans as the ultimate creature on Earth. I guess I always just “knew” that we were. And I never really doubted that thinking. And there was not one thought I ever had that was relevant to horses being the dominant creature. But in Gulliver’s 4th voyage, it’s the creatures that rule us, not the other way around.
The Houyhnhnms are so far the most morally and ideally advance of all the beings Gulliver has encountered. They show kindness and benevolence to one another and they have a strong bond between them. They are deemed virtuous and they all work towards the betterment of the community as whole instead of just bettering themselves. Gulliver sees them as the most perfect ideal type of creature and idolizes them so much and to a point where he deludes himself into thinking that he is in fact one of them.
For me, I can’t see it Gulliver’s way. They are kind. They are benevolent. They are ideally the best. But they’re not human. And it’s not just about appearances as to why they aren’t human but it’s the way they are too perfect. Humans all have flaws. None of us are perfect and neither can we claim to be that way. We all are greedy at some point. There’s bound to be something we want and our selfishness will push us into getting it. There are times when we put ourselves in before others. There are times we lied. Times we did something hurtful to somebody. Or times we thought of doing something that’s not morally right. And we can’t deny that because that’s the way humans just are. We are controlled mainly by our emotions and we do act upon them so we can never do what is deemed right all the time.
The Houyhnhnms society is great. But it’s great for the Houyhnhnms. And of course I wish that at times I can be just as morally outstanding as they are but then I know that some of the things I’ll do just to be “good” will go against my own desire and conscience. (Besides what’s right isn’t always right for somebody else.) I’m fine with living in this world of flaws. Because within the flaws, there’s always some perfection and that perfection will always seem brighter, better, greater then if everything is perfect all the time. And that would just be too dull anyway. Humans need to have some fun in their lives!

Yahoos

Yahoos. The first thing that will always come to my mine is my email. But of course the ugly beast like creature that Gulliver despises comes a close second. Gulliver’s first run in with the Yahoos was after he was washed up (again!) on an unknown shore after his crew mutinied against him. Then at distant he sees a strange looking creature that has long hair, goat-like beards, and extremely sharps claws. Gulliver’s first impression of these creatures’ appearance is that it’s very unattractive and almost repulsive. He then tries to explore the island and wonders if there are any inhabitants of this one as well. But as he then encounters one of the unsightly creatures from before and proceeds to take out his sword and hit the animal. But as he manages to do so the creature let out a holler and a whole other group of them try to attack Gulliver although he does manages to hide him self. But then Gulliver is saved when the unknown beings scurry off at the sight of a horse. Clearly Gulliver’s first encounter of Yahoos was not a very pleasant one.
Yahoos in my opinion are only a more feral side of human beings. As Gulliver describes I always compare them with cavemen due to there unruly appearance and animalistic manners. For one instance when one of the Houyhnhnms had placed a piece of flesh in front on the Yahoos, they had nearly gone ballistic and tore at the bloody meat. Soon we can see that Gulliver’s wish be more like the Houyhnhnms cost him to hold much contempt for the Yahoos. He sees them as malevolent creatures that care for none but themselves. To him, they are just cowardly worthless beings.
I find that Gulliver’s views on the Yahoos are too harsh. The Houyhnhnms never gave the Yahoos a chance to change and they never made an attempt to help them learn any better so how can they hold such hatred for beings who are the way they are because that was the way they have always been? They do not really know any better than to behave the way they see other of their kind behave. And I can’t find a valid enough reason to just have such distain for a race that is to me almost like little toddlers. They can think for them selves but they repeat what the normally see. And just as I have enough ability to forgive small kids for their mistakes than why shouldn’t I be able to forgive the Yahoos for being so primitive? Yes, I will admit that I do feel some sense of almost arrogance over them because I’m more “advanced” but I can’t feel hatred as deep as Gulliver’s.

Laputa

Sometimes I think Gulliver never learns. Having voyaging twice and both times landing on a foreign land and almost getting killed by the natives there, you would think that any one in their right minds would vow to leave home again. I would. I mean almost getting pricked to death by tiny needles and almost having yours eyes gouged out would really put a damper on any future voyages. Not to mention the fact that he almost got trampled on by giants, enslaved, almost killed by a mothering monkey and jealous dwarf. Those would not be things that would make me go “Yes! Let us venture out once more!” But Gulliver being restless as he was’ he took off and this time was left to die out at sea. But then - maybe luckily- spots an island and inhabits it. Then like the rest of his voyages the most unexpected things happen. Gulliver spots a floating island above his own and so he calls out to the people above. They hear him and lower a chain to which they later use to pull him up. And thus is the beginning of Gulliver’s adventure in Laputa.

When Gulliver first sees the island’s inhabitants, he is at first very mystified by their appearances. The Laputians all have their heads tilted to one side, either to the left or right, and have one eye turned inward and the other turned up. They wear clothing adorned with illustrations of celestial masses and musical instruments such as fiddles, flutes, harps, etc. (pg. 82) These people were also quite the daydreamer and had trouble with focusing their thoughts to one particular subject. Their mind digresses so much that there was a need to employ some of them just to tap on the others ears or mouths with sticks with a pouch tied at the end called flappers. Gulliver also comes to learn that the Laputian’s culture is heavily based on mathematics and music. A humorous example would be when Gulliver had his first dinner with them. The first course was a shoulder of mutton that was shaped into an equilateral triangle while the beef was separated into rhombuses and the pudding put in a cycloid shape. The second course had more music inspired dishes than the first. Two ducks were placed as to that they would have a semblance of fiddles, the sausages and pudding were flute-like, and the cut of veil had a strong harp look. Even the bread was divided into mathematical figures.

From my first impression I see Laputa as much more strange or foreign than the other two nations. Lilliput and Brobdingnag had a lot more similarities to our world than I can ever imagine Laputa having. Yes, the Lilliputians were tiny and the Brobdingnagians were huge but their differences from our own come mostly from their physical appearance. And even then the Laputians still in my mind trumps them. Well, because I have seen really small people and really large people as well but maybe not as extreme as those Gulliver encounter but I have never seen anyone who remotely resembles Laputians. And another of the strangest things I’ve ever heard of –other then starting a war over how to break eggs- is there over all culture.

The Laputians are the most far off from “human” so far of any of the characters depicted. They seem to have the focus mainly on math, science, and music leaving little space for anything else to occupy their minds with. And I can’t help but compare them to “aliens”. For one thing they have the Unidentified Flying Object part covered! And it’s just that somehow they feel distant. It’s the way that they are so submerged within their own realm of thinking that they rarely give any thought to other matters. It’s as though nothing matter to them except for what’s currently occupying their minds. They don’t seem to care for very much anything else but for their mathematics and science and music. They are even so clueless of their surroundings that they must actually have people hit them with flappers just so that they won’t unknowingly walk off the edge of the island or run into a ditch. And I absolutely find that humorous yet very ridiculous at the same time. But to say the truth I wouldn’t be able to like them very much. I feel as though they are the type of people who unconsciously ignore everything that’s right in front them. And I wonder if they never care to think of anything else or care for anything else than how do they love? I know that’s corny but I really believe that living a life like would be a waste. They have their entire life to live and yet they don’t care! So how in the world do they even have the ability to let love get in the way of their scientific thinking?!?!?!?!?