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antishurtugal_reborn2025-02-17 06:41 pm
epistler) wrote in antishurtugal_reborn2025-02-17 06:41 pm
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Thoughts on Fractal Noise
I've been revisiting our spork, in which I only played a relatively minor part, and have had some thoughts and other musings to share. This isn't a review as much as just some post-spork observations as to what Paolini tried to write versus what we actually got.
But first a mostly unrelated observation: the book is actually very similar to the famous Michael Bay stinker Armageddon (not to be confused with the porn parody, Arma-get-it-on, of course).
Both are about a group of hilariously unqualified morons who get sent on a mission in space they shouldn't have been allowed anywhere near. As there's no human villain, the only way the script was able to build drama and tension was by having everything keep going wrong. Equipment breaking, accidental deaths and injuries, not enough oxygen left, etc etc. Not only does this get really repetitive and predictable, but it also makes everyone involved look cartoonishly useless and inept. There's also a subplot about someone losing his shit because he can't cope with running around on an asteroid, and nearly shooting everyone.
An important and rather depressing key difference here is that at least in Armageddon there was an urgent reason for them to be doing all this, i.e. the earth was in danger of being destroyed. The morons in Fractal Nose have not even that figleaf of an excuse to be screwing around on an alien planet. And, as nails-on-a-chalkboard irritating as the cast of Armageddon is, they're still nowhere near as awful as Alex and co. It's a low enough bar, but Michael Bay managed to clear it so good for him I guess.
And now onto the main attraction.
Plot and Themes
The (apparent) intention: FN seems to have been intended as a psychological horror story about a group of people who end up in a situation where various pressures along with their own existing traumas slowly wear them down until they reach the point of no return and it ends in murder. The major theme is the protagonist's parallel emotional journey through his grief and depression. Ultimately he experiences a life-changing epiphany which puts him on the road to recovery.
What we actually got: A group of three completely unlikeable sociopaths and a nonentity set out on a mission they are neither equipped nor qualified for, with no justification whatsoever as to why it's just that important. The protagonist is a self-pitying asshole who does nothing but whine and moan in the most selfish manner possible about his dead wife, when his relationship with her is shown in flashback to be doomed and probably abusive. Instead of working well as a team before descending into madness, they are completely at odds with each other before they even leave the ship. The attempts at exploring different philosophies of life fall into strawman entry level clichés which were quite obviously written by someone with very little knowledge on the subject and absolutely zero insight into it and therefore nothing to share or contribute. The mission ends in disaster not due to outside forces but due to the incredible levels of boneheaded incompetence involved. Neither of the two eventual villains is ever painted as redeemable. Alex's "epiphany" is weak and shallow. The depiction of grief is melodramatic and not the least bit realistic or empathetic. The book ultimately ends having accomplished nothing.
Characters
The (apparent) intention: The protagonist is sympathetic because of his recent tragedy and we empathise with his suffering while watching him march through hell. Meanwhile Pushkin and Talia offer convincing arguments in favour of atheistic hedonism on Pushkin's part and austere, joyless religiosity on Talia's. I actually have no idea what the intention with Chen was. Ultimately Pushkin and Talia's extremism spawns such levels of hatred between them that they progress to violent murder. Alex, having failed to find comfort or conviction in either view, survives and is now ready to start life anew.
What we actually got: One of the problems here, as I touched on before, is that we're supposed to get rising levels of conflict between Talia and Pushkin. But that doesn't happen. The two of them are at each other's throats from day one. When Pushkin reveals that he hacked into her private psych profile he does it very early on, before the effects of the hole (whatever the hell that even is) have become a factor. This is such a massive, massive violation on his part that if it was revealed it should have been much later on. It should have been his "finally crossed the line" moment which drives Talia to attack him, and it certainly shouldn't have been brushed off like it's not that big of a deal because it is. Pushkin should have been instantly hauled back to the ship and placed under arrest.
Their collective obsession with "the hole" is another major issue, as it comes right out of nowhere, is not explored at all, and consequently makes no sense. Instead they all seem hellbent on marching to their deaths for no reason.
Meanwhile Alex utterly fails in his role as a sympathetic protagonist because of just how badly Paolini bungled his attempt at depicting grief. This is an area where I'm a bit more qualified to comment because I've experienced grief and loss due to someone I knew dying suddenly and violently not once but twice. Admittedly the first time it was a close childhood friend while the second time it was a friendly acquaintance, but even so. Both times it was a shock to the system to say the least. But the differences between my reaction and Alex's are major, and pretty shockingly so. I might as well just make a list.
And, crucially, much important character development is left off-screen, with us not even knowing what set off the final confrontation between Pushkin and Talia. Nor do we learn anything concrete about what they're saying to Chen in private. Worse, Alex's own beliefs are never explored, let alone challenged. He barely even thinks about what Pushkin and Talia are selling. Nor do either of them try to persuade him to their side, instead focusing on Chen alone for some bizarre reason.
Worldbuilding, Style and General Feel
The (apparent) intention: Talos was pretty obviously supposed to be an extremely atmospheric and unsettling place, what with the howling winds, barren landscape and the "thuds" getting steadily louder and louder as the characters approach the "hole". The alien tortoises are supposed to be a mysterious presence whose nature and motivations are unknown, and which might prove a threat. As for the hole itself, here Paolini makes an attempt at mind-bending Lovecraftian horror. There's something down there, urging our hero to jump in! Reality itself has started to fall apart!
What we actually got: There's a number of factors behind the failure of any of this to work, aside from how impossible it is to get emotionally invested in the characters. One is as usual Paolini's lifeless prose and poor use of description. He just is not good at creating "mood" in his writing, except sporadically, and occasionally by pure accident. The incredibly tepid pacing also works against this; there just isn't enough story for an entire book here. Not even close. Instead we get the old fallbacks: repetitious padding and a dragging pace which makes the experience of reading the book in general an exhausting, deadening slog.
The use of the "thuds" just becomes irritating; Paolini should have woven it into the prose instead of resorting to putting sound effects into his novel. The tortoises barely do anything and don't get enough description to be scary or unnerving, or even interesting.
But the biggest let-down of all here has got to be the ending. We get endless pages of build-up for this goddam "hole" - which definitely needed a better name - and when we finally get there, there's no payoff. We don't find out what's down there. Nothing happens other than more attempts at sounding grand and mysterious before the book cuts off. The end. Nothing has been resolved unless you count Alex deciding to live again, and by this point he's been so consistently written as a complete asshole that you have absolutely no reason to give a wet slap about it.
As usual Paolini has also completely abandoned any sort of realism when it comes to human biology or how injuries work, so by this point in the proceedings Alex shouldn't even be alive and standing upright anyway.
Essentially what we got wasn't a profound and moving story about one man's search for meaning, or an exploration of religion versus unbelief. What we got was a big pile of nothing in which nothing much happens other than an endless string of misery and complaining, starring characters it's completely impossible to like or care about. (Unless you count Chen, who is barely even a character).
Paolini is already well known for his habit of regularly biting off more than he can chew, but this is definitely his biggest blunder in that department so far. He cannot write character anywhere near well enough to handle these four with enough mastery to make them "flawed but likeable". He doesn't know enough about life and philosophy to handle any of these extremely complicated and sensitive topics with anything close to subtlety or nuance. Instead he just falls back on lazy and ignorant stereotyping, much as he does when depicting minorities - which he also does here, of course, with all the grace of a sledgehammer to the kneecaps. His attempts at writing about the meaning of life and death are laughable and bring absolutely nothing new to the table, just as was the case with all his previous attempts at it. Nor is he able to write horror of any sort because he cannot build tension or suspense in his writing and always ruins it when he does occasionally succeed thanks to over-description, poor word choice, and lumbering pacing.
As such I feel confident in saying that this book is easily his greatest misfire to date, and it's really no surprise that even his fans seem to have largely hated it.
But first a mostly unrelated observation: the book is actually very similar to the famous Michael Bay stinker Armageddon (not to be confused with the porn parody, Arma-get-it-on, of course).
Both are about a group of hilariously unqualified morons who get sent on a mission in space they shouldn't have been allowed anywhere near. As there's no human villain, the only way the script was able to build drama and tension was by having everything keep going wrong. Equipment breaking, accidental deaths and injuries, not enough oxygen left, etc etc. Not only does this get really repetitive and predictable, but it also makes everyone involved look cartoonishly useless and inept. There's also a subplot about someone losing his shit because he can't cope with running around on an asteroid, and nearly shooting everyone.
An important and rather depressing key difference here is that at least in Armageddon there was an urgent reason for them to be doing all this, i.e. the earth was in danger of being destroyed. The morons in Fractal Nose have not even that figleaf of an excuse to be screwing around on an alien planet. And, as nails-on-a-chalkboard irritating as the cast of Armageddon is, they're still nowhere near as awful as Alex and co. It's a low enough bar, but Michael Bay managed to clear it so good for him I guess.
And now onto the main attraction.
Plot and Themes
The (apparent) intention: FN seems to have been intended as a psychological horror story about a group of people who end up in a situation where various pressures along with their own existing traumas slowly wear them down until they reach the point of no return and it ends in murder. The major theme is the protagonist's parallel emotional journey through his grief and depression. Ultimately he experiences a life-changing epiphany which puts him on the road to recovery.
What we actually got: A group of three completely unlikeable sociopaths and a nonentity set out on a mission they are neither equipped nor qualified for, with no justification whatsoever as to why it's just that important. The protagonist is a self-pitying asshole who does nothing but whine and moan in the most selfish manner possible about his dead wife, when his relationship with her is shown in flashback to be doomed and probably abusive. Instead of working well as a team before descending into madness, they are completely at odds with each other before they even leave the ship. The attempts at exploring different philosophies of life fall into strawman entry level clichés which were quite obviously written by someone with very little knowledge on the subject and absolutely zero insight into it and therefore nothing to share or contribute. The mission ends in disaster not due to outside forces but due to the incredible levels of boneheaded incompetence involved. Neither of the two eventual villains is ever painted as redeemable. Alex's "epiphany" is weak and shallow. The depiction of grief is melodramatic and not the least bit realistic or empathetic. The book ultimately ends having accomplished nothing.
Characters
The (apparent) intention: The protagonist is sympathetic because of his recent tragedy and we empathise with his suffering while watching him march through hell. Meanwhile Pushkin and Talia offer convincing arguments in favour of atheistic hedonism on Pushkin's part and austere, joyless religiosity on Talia's. I actually have no idea what the intention with Chen was. Ultimately Pushkin and Talia's extremism spawns such levels of hatred between them that they progress to violent murder. Alex, having failed to find comfort or conviction in either view, survives and is now ready to start life anew.
What we actually got: One of the problems here, as I touched on before, is that we're supposed to get rising levels of conflict between Talia and Pushkin. But that doesn't happen. The two of them are at each other's throats from day one. When Pushkin reveals that he hacked into her private psych profile he does it very early on, before the effects of the hole (whatever the hell that even is) have become a factor. This is such a massive, massive violation on his part that if it was revealed it should have been much later on. It should have been his "finally crossed the line" moment which drives Talia to attack him, and it certainly shouldn't have been brushed off like it's not that big of a deal because it is. Pushkin should have been instantly hauled back to the ship and placed under arrest.
Their collective obsession with "the hole" is another major issue, as it comes right out of nowhere, is not explored at all, and consequently makes no sense. Instead they all seem hellbent on marching to their deaths for no reason.
Meanwhile Alex utterly fails in his role as a sympathetic protagonist because of just how badly Paolini bungled his attempt at depicting grief. This is an area where I'm a bit more qualified to comment because I've experienced grief and loss due to someone I knew dying suddenly and violently not once but twice. Admittedly the first time it was a close childhood friend while the second time it was a friendly acquaintance, but even so. Both times it was a shock to the system to say the least. But the differences between my reaction and Alex's are major, and pretty shockingly so. I might as well just make a list.
- Alex expresses his grief by constantly complaining about how much pain he's in. I downplayed my own pain, to the point of not realising at the time just how bad it was
- Alex shows not one iota of sympathy toward Layla's grieving parents, and in fact is actively horrible and disdainful toward them. One of my first thoughts both times was "oh god his/her poor family". I felt absolutely horrible about what they must be going through.
- Alex instantly reacts to his loss by falling into depression. I became extremely depressed as well.
- ...except that the thoughts and behaviours Alex display do not match actual depression. Yes, he lets himself go and doesn't have the energy to do his job, but the rest of it? That's not depression or grief. It's whining. When I was depressed, and I know I'm not alone here, I buried my pain. I ignored it. In fact, at the time I didn't even know I was depressed. I did not want anyone's attention or sympathy. In fact I didn't really feel anything very much, because that's what depression is. So, paradoxically, if you're whining that much then you're probably doing quite well comparatively speaking
- Nor does being grief-stricken and depressed make you instantly jump to suicidal ideation. It sure as hell doesn't make you start "going insane". As bad as things were, I never once considered harming myself. Nor did I "go insane". I just got extremely apathetic about everything when I wasn't feeling helpless rage. That whole time in my life is largely a blank, to tell you the truth. So yeah, this isn't grief. It's self-pity, selfish attention-seeking taken to a comically melodramatic extreme.
And, crucially, much important character development is left off-screen, with us not even knowing what set off the final confrontation between Pushkin and Talia. Nor do we learn anything concrete about what they're saying to Chen in private. Worse, Alex's own beliefs are never explored, let alone challenged. He barely even thinks about what Pushkin and Talia are selling. Nor do either of them try to persuade him to their side, instead focusing on Chen alone for some bizarre reason.
Worldbuilding, Style and General Feel
The (apparent) intention: Talos was pretty obviously supposed to be an extremely atmospheric and unsettling place, what with the howling winds, barren landscape and the "thuds" getting steadily louder and louder as the characters approach the "hole". The alien tortoises are supposed to be a mysterious presence whose nature and motivations are unknown, and which might prove a threat. As for the hole itself, here Paolini makes an attempt at mind-bending Lovecraftian horror. There's something down there, urging our hero to jump in! Reality itself has started to fall apart!
What we actually got: There's a number of factors behind the failure of any of this to work, aside from how impossible it is to get emotionally invested in the characters. One is as usual Paolini's lifeless prose and poor use of description. He just is not good at creating "mood" in his writing, except sporadically, and occasionally by pure accident. The incredibly tepid pacing also works against this; there just isn't enough story for an entire book here. Not even close. Instead we get the old fallbacks: repetitious padding and a dragging pace which makes the experience of reading the book in general an exhausting, deadening slog.
The use of the "thuds" just becomes irritating; Paolini should have woven it into the prose instead of resorting to putting sound effects into his novel. The tortoises barely do anything and don't get enough description to be scary or unnerving, or even interesting.
But the biggest let-down of all here has got to be the ending. We get endless pages of build-up for this goddam "hole" - which definitely needed a better name - and when we finally get there, there's no payoff. We don't find out what's down there. Nothing happens other than more attempts at sounding grand and mysterious before the book cuts off. The end. Nothing has been resolved unless you count Alex deciding to live again, and by this point he's been so consistently written as a complete asshole that you have absolutely no reason to give a wet slap about it.
As usual Paolini has also completely abandoned any sort of realism when it comes to human biology or how injuries work, so by this point in the proceedings Alex shouldn't even be alive and standing upright anyway.
Essentially what we got wasn't a profound and moving story about one man's search for meaning, or an exploration of religion versus unbelief. What we got was a big pile of nothing in which nothing much happens other than an endless string of misery and complaining, starring characters it's completely impossible to like or care about. (Unless you count Chen, who is barely even a character).
Paolini is already well known for his habit of regularly biting off more than he can chew, but this is definitely his biggest blunder in that department so far. He cannot write character anywhere near well enough to handle these four with enough mastery to make them "flawed but likeable". He doesn't know enough about life and philosophy to handle any of these extremely complicated and sensitive topics with anything close to subtlety or nuance. Instead he just falls back on lazy and ignorant stereotyping, much as he does when depicting minorities - which he also does here, of course, with all the grace of a sledgehammer to the kneecaps. His attempts at writing about the meaning of life and death are laughable and bring absolutely nothing new to the table, just as was the case with all his previous attempts at it. Nor is he able to write horror of any sort because he cannot build tension or suspense in his writing and always ruins it when he does occasionally succeed thanks to over-description, poor word choice, and lumbering pacing.
As such I feel confident in saying that this book is easily his greatest misfire to date, and it's really no surprise that even his fans seem to have largely hated it.
no subject
It really is. It's like he set out to fill it with every disgusting and nasty thing he could come up with; gross dehumanising descriptions of Pushkin's fatness, rape and genocide, gore, and shit. SO much shit, figuratively and literally. And then of course there's all that "existential" 2EDGY4U bullshit about "the uncaring universe" and the meaninglessness of existence blah blah blah. Not one of the worldviews presented in it ever offers the least modicum of what was both wanted and needed: hope
But then Paolini doesn't really seem to believe in hope, or redemption either. Sick obsession yes, but hope, no. None of his characters ever believe in or hope for a better future, let alone try to bring one about. Instead they all just wallow in this useless miserable funk where everything is futile and you can't change anything ever so just don't bother. And that's not what we want or need from any character, even one that isn't supposed to be traditionally heroic.
Nor does any of that inspire concern or sympathy for what Paolini himself might be going through. Instead it just has me thinking "oh for crissakes, get over yourself".
At the end of the day, I really don't know.
Asshole didn't even discover the damn hole - that was Jonah. Mind you, stealing the credit for other people's work is very much a Paolini stock in trade, along with the constant entitled whining and contempt for other people.
Saaaame. Spite is underrated as a motivator. Without it I might even have quit by now.