Tuesday 29 December 2015

The Force is okay with this one.

Nostalgia. Pure and simple. From the swelling opening score to right down to the holographic chessboard on the Millenium Falcon, nostalgia's what it was.
Abrams-saab lifts us from the drudgery of the three mildly disappointing prequels, to take us on a roller-coaster ride of intrigue, emotions and humour that, thankfully, does not look forced. The feeling the movie left in my gut was a lot like what I felt after watching Episode IV for the first time. The charm was not in the stunning tech and the staggering visuals of that galaxy so far, far away. I was riveted by the fact that it was a fairy tale set in space- complete with tales of astounding bravery in the face of overwhelming odds, and rife with struggles that were all too human.
Star Wars: The Force Awakens is packed with plenty of that human element. Take Kylo Ren of the First Order (A kind of galactic Third Reich.). Despite the fact that he's inherited Darth Vader's penchant for a menacing piece of headgear, and that his voice sounds all muffled, deep and darkly malevolent, AND that he carries a lethal-looking lightsabre, WHERE is that cold fury, that sheer sinisterness of the Sith lord that Vader had been? Young Kylo's a troubled and snotty teenager with severe tantrum issues. He's undeniably human, and a villain who's not exactly villainous.

           

But he's got some serious training coming his way, so maybe he'd bear the mantle of the dark lord of the Sith a little better next time.
Rey, on the other hand, with her pretty smile, the quaint British accent and feisty badassery, instantly became my newest crush. She carries the torch of the Jedi order well.
The man who completes the feeling of overwhelming nostalgia is Han Solo. The one and the only. I think this is the first time we see the real man underneath that glib smuggler- a man that leaves your heart heavy with emotions.
Fear not, dear reader, there will be no spoilers on this blog. I just had to scratch my writerly itch a bit. Go watch the movie. It leaves a pleasant aftertaste.

Thursday 24 December 2015

Old flame (Contd.)

 I was facebook-stalking a certain lady (10/10 would do it again. A fellow bookworm is a gem of a find! :) ) when I came across a conversation debating the relative merits of the smells of old books and new ones. And BLAM! My authorly itch was set off again! I would tend to agree completely with that certain lady, having grown up among shelf upon shelf of dusty volumes myself. A book is not just the squiggles, more squiggles and even more of the black squiggles; the texture of the pages on your fingers, the musty aroma wafting into your nostrils, the warm weight of it- all add up to complete the experience.
But what do you do when the cupboard of your tiny hostel room threatens to overflow? Do you remain a stubborn purist, and pray for the damned souls roving the Stygian darkness of the electronic world? Or do you take a deep breath, loosen your muscles and take the plunge?
Well I took the plunge a couple of months ago. I found the water inviting; in fact so much so that it was only today that I realised that I have not ranted here in forever.
Amazon could not have chosen a better name for their product. My old flame has been Kindle-d into a roaring blaze in the last two months.  It is light, it is sleek, handles really well, and the use of electronic ink  and electronic paper tech in the display gives you the illusion of turning the pages of an actual, physical book! Too bad the 160 books in my pocket all smell the same!
end rant

P.S. Would love a critique if I do manage to work up the courage to share this on facebag. Aaand a book-chat and a reading-list suggestion would not be too bad, either.
There are plans to baby-talk about some of the science I have been trying to do as well.