The Book Thief

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak appeared mysteriously on my bookshelf one day. I believe it's been sitting there for a while, sorted into the pile of 'novels that do not belong to me' (which primarily hosts books borrowed from my big sister). This, however, appeared on its own.

Rather fitting really, now having read the tale of book thievery, that it should have ended up in my procession as a gift I recently took it down off the shelf to read. I read The Book Thief without knowing anything at all about it. I enjoy reading books that way, it adds to the story without predetermined context or assumptions about the content, and the Book Thief was for me, then, a complete surprise.

A powerful, sorrowful tale of death, destruction, and inevitable dismay, the Book Thief is a curious tale of a unique young girl, and an even more intriguing speaker. Though the narrator is never literally named, it becomes quickly apparent to the reader that the speaker is indeed, the voice of Death - a personification that is both supernatural, but of seemingly human-like form, "You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue." Death is both expressly inhuman, and yet very much a part of who we are, in it's own perspective, becoming both beyond ourselves, beyond human, and inherently sympathetic as it feels and comprehends hope, sadness, defeat, and most often, fatigue. 

Set in Germany in the second World War, Death is not only a fitting, but a challenging narrator which provides not only insight into the depth of destruction obviously apparent at the time, but a level of individuality as the voice touches on single stories within the ever present context of death. 

Though it could technically be categorize as War literature, or even historical fiction, the Book Thief was unlike any other wartime or holocaust themed novel I had previously read, the focus of the novel so very much on the girl, Leisel, rather than the war itself. Of course, the thoughts and consequences of war were ever present throughout the novel, but they arose as just that - consequences - which moved and shaped the daily activities and lives of the characters within. Leisel felt the sting of war every day, and the reign of Nazi Germany, the omnipresent ruling, was a foreboding darkness over the city and nation. It was through her story that the pain of the war years is made real to the reader, not as a statistic, or a horror story of holocaust victim, but rather through the tale of a loss of innocence and privilege, a loss of comfort and home, and eventually, the simple loss of life. Because Leisel's tale is such a simple one, such a basic one, in essence, it allows the reader to connect and latch their emotions to that of the young girl all the more strongly as she stumbles her way through life and onto Himmel St. 

Death, itself, takes care of the bigger picture. Through simple tales of mass murders and bombings, concentration camps and executions, told from the other side, Death is able to turn the stories from unfathomably horrific, to poignantly tragic - a subtle change which allows readers who have in all likelihood been bombarded with History texts books in school years, to view the deadly acts of world War Two in a new, more personal light. A calm, but sorrowful one. Death does not talk of the bloodlust in the killer's eyes, or the long nights of suffering, but of gently scooping up the souls of the dying humans, whether one by one and slowly, as the victims starve in their beds, mercifully and lightly, as escaping Jews fall to their death over rocky cliffs - dying mid fall, or  of collecting them all at once and in large batches, sifting the souls out of the deadly smoke that rose out of the killing showers of concentration camps. All horrific, all deaths, but all told from a caring, but calm voice who lifts them each out of their bodies, and carries them skyward.  

Using the voice of death provides a unique perspective not only on dying, but on loss and being left behind: "I witness the ones that are left behind, crumbled among the jigsaw puzzles of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs". For death, the dying brings relief, whether the dead realize it immediately or not, and it is those left that become the victims, broken by the incomprehension of separation.

The novel, then, centres around not only the inevitable sense of loss and destruction, but on friendship, and the bonds of those fated to live through such times. Introducing the childhood best friend connection with Rudy, Leisel is able to experience, in many ways, a normal relation with her neighbour and soon best friend. It is this bond, the ever growing friendship that exists both despite and because of the environment within which the characters live, that allows the reader a sense of hope and a connection to the story, as the reader invests in the child antics and relations. The friendship, like all those in the novel, is complicated by circumstance, and though street soccer games and playground fights are central, bonds are formed through the stealing of apples - a necessity for the near-starving children, rather than a game of fun - and bonds of mutual longing, as both children experience what it is to have their father figures sent to war. 

Likewise, Leisel's relationship with her Papa and Mama both mirrors that of a child with their parent, but is given further depth by the sheer fact that neither are Leisel's biological parent. Learning to form a connection of extreme love and devotion, the three characters quickly become a bonded family, their love extending past factual family and becoming one knit together by love, loss and circumstance, just as Max is integrated into their hearts in much the same way. 

Providing a window into the life of a Jew in Nazi Germany, Max becomes not only a friend but a liability. A constant balance between a fugitive and a brother, the threads of Max's friendship with Leisel are woven through not only a sense of family and justice, but over an attendance to Hitler Youth, around the loss of her own brother, and through the not only impractical but the forbidden nature of such a bond. It is not only love that holds these characters together, but the reoccurring theme throughout the novel of Words. 

Words, as any reader will know, are an extremely powerful tool. Both a weapon and a form of reconciliation, or comfort, words can connect and severe ties, and infiltrate minds. Words are the birthplace of so many actions, and so much of the movements of Nazi Germany. And Leisel herself writes after reflecting upon both her habit of book stealing and of writing, "I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right."

The Book Thief itself uses words in much the same way, highlighting and pushing them, contorting them to depict both the good and the bad, as well as highlighting the consequences of words, both said and unsaid, and their effect on those on which who's ears they fall. From simple spelling lessons, to a book which Death itself carries in its pocket, literature and language (spoken and written) is shown for what it truly is - a power and weapon beyond understanding which can shape the minds of followers, and a hope on which to cling to, when all else falls. 

It is with a unique voice and brilliantly executed perspective - that of the character and narrator of Death - that Zuszak sheds light on the dark times of Germany in war, and reawakens an emotional connection between reader and characters, refreshing what has become numb and desensitized in a violence-based society. 

491.

A little bit of shameless self promotion, which I tend to be quite bad at, really.
I've been 'published'
digitally.

To view my short story posted on CommuterLit , go to:
http://commuterlit.com/2012/04/tuesday-491/
I'd love to read your comments, or thoughts!



And aside from my story, there is a lovely collection of one-a-day stories to be read for the commuter or casual reader. Sign up for the newsletter to receive the weekly story list.
Happy reading!

Room

We meet Jack, the narrator and hero of Room by Emma Donoghue on his fifth birthday and proceed to share the next few weeks with him experiencing every corner of his life and world, Room, the 11 by 11 foot, windowless room he has called home for the entirety of his young life. Living just with his mother for company, Jack and 'Ma' learn to live within the confines of their sheltered 'home' relying on and loving each other as their very means of survival. Never having left Room, Jack and his mother exist only within the tiny space, warping Jack's very perception of the world and life itself. For him, everything in Room is real, and everything on TV is purely that - TV. There is no world, there is no Outside. There is only Room and it's occupants.

Donoghue masterfully crafts an interesting and engaging tale within the tiny space of Room, using what little possessions, interactions and events the two characters encounter within the context of confinement to weave a tale of innocence, ignorance, and innovation. Trapped within the four walls, Jack and Ma show perseverance against all odds. The bond between mother and child is explored and reinforced as the two have nothing but each other for company and support through the ins and outs of their days and nights. Those monotonous days. And yet, it is a tribute to Jack's Mother that she continues to make the most of her situation, educating her five year old son beyond his years despite the lack of schooling, exercising and implementing routine to ensure that regardless of confinement, their lives had order, purpose, and a sense of stability. The down side to this routine, though, is the fact that the reader becomes very familiar with the daily life of the characters rather quickly, and a sense of tedium or monotony may threaten to enter the story.  But just when the reader was feeling the events too repetative, Donoghue expands the imaginations and events of the two characters through vivid dreams and aspiritions for the future, providing a turn of events in the story which re-awaken's reader's investment in the young character's lives, disposing of the 'familiar-to-the-point-of-dull nature that can creep in to confined tales.

The true strength of this novel is it's voice and style. Being narrated by the five year old Jack, the narrative voice has both a simplicity, and a beautiful honesty that can only really be seen through the eyes of a child. The unique look into the activities of his life highlight not only the bliss he holds in his ignorance, and the crafty fashion in which the author makes issues known to the reader that are beyond Jack's understanding, but the balance is perfectly written, and allows for a beautiful relation between character and reader as he moves through his days, painting, albeit vaguely and in pieces, the larger picture of his life within Room. Likewise, it is Jack's pure joy and inability to grasp what he is missing that is both tragic and hopeful for the reader as we witness the melee of emotions of both characters through the turmoil of modern imprisonment. Difficult though it can be to capture the nature of a the world through a child's eyes, Donoghue grasps the very syntax that is evident in a young boys mind, cause the thoughts of the child narrator not only to ring true to any age of reader, but to grab hold of their emotions and fill the gaps which may be lacking (in a grammatical or verbal sense) from Jack's vocabulary. The result is a wonderful concoction of words and rhythm that permeated my own way of thinking and speaking for days after reading.

As the novel progresses and comes to its conclusion, issues of social justice, public danger and modern slavery are addressed through the platform of human frailty and emotion, woven within the complex styling of Donoghue's narrative voice. All in all, it is an interesting tale of a simple life in dire and complicated circumstances,which hones in on how the love between a mother and child can prove to be a bond both more powerful and more vulnerable than any other.

The Hunger Games Trilogy

Now, there's been a lot of hype and talk and fandomonium about the Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins consisting of The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay, so naturally, I thought I'd investigate. And when some well respected friends added merit to the general public's love of these novels I thought them worth a shot - especially with the movie coming out in March, I knew I had to read before I saw too much. I must admit, though, I was a bit nervous seeing as Twilight etc. got even more fame and those were certainly not top novels. The YA genre is full of mush, yet some stars remain.
In Hunger Games, I was not dissapointed. (Or at least not entirely).
It is essentailly pointless and impossible for me to critique each of these novels seperately as they not only contain the same characters/world in the continuity of a Trilogy, but they essentially read as one large novel more so than 3 stand alone novels. While it is possible (although somewhat unsatisfying) to read just the first, the second and third novels would be nothing without the original, and so they stand a firm trilogy.

First of all, on a high note, the characters are wonderfully unique, complex and real. Showing both immense bravery and immense fear, love and hate and everything in between, the characters grab you immediately and pull on your heart strings from the very start. For me, this is of the utmost importance - if I am not invested in the characters, then who really cares?

The main character, a sixteen year old girl named Katniss, is every young reader's dream. With the possibility of being vague and flippant, and wash of a character (see the non-descript bore Bella Swan), Suzanne Collins avoids the generic and dives head first into a strong, distinct pointed character. And this, is the beauty of it, really. You might not love Katniss - you might not be all that much like her: as brave, or as hard, as indecisive or as piercing and yet, it doesn't matter. (or at least, didn't bother me, though fangirls of the male characters everywhere will doubtless scream she is an unloving, insensitive fool). I think, though that vagueness of character is a major flaw that writers fall into, especially those that write teen or YA literature, to pick a character - a main character - which is universal with the assumption that the more relatable the character is, the more invested the readers will become. It's really just the opposite, I find. Sure, vague characters WORK because we place ourselves in the role and feel part of our own character going through the plots and turns, but in the end, who did we just read about? Does the character stick with us? Could they be real, do we really care?
No.
This is where Collins diverges from the norm. Katniss Everdeen is most certainly NOT your average 16 year old girl. With a strong sense of justice and a streak of rebellion she runs her household in place of an absent father and vacant mother. Hunting, trading, bartering and protecting, she is the provider for her family leading them day in and day out through the impoverished life of District 12.

Throw into that Katniss's first big act - a selfless volunteering to replace her 12 year old sister in 'The Hunger Games' a fight-to-the-death televised event where 24 children (ranging in age from 12-18) enter a stadium, fight, survive, outwit, until only one remains, and Collins has immediately stepped up her game.
The shining beacon of Collin's work is her ability to form meaningful, quick relations between the characters and the reader at just the right level so that when they die (as inevitably most of them will), the reader feels a real sense of loss at their death without feeling completely gutted, or like part of the story has died with them. This is a major feat given the genre, as often authors cannot find the balance and when a character we are invested in dies, we lose a large part of why we were connected to the story in the first place, and begin to seperate ourselves from the story.

It's 'The Lottery' meets 'Gladiator', a mashup of crepy opression and violence. Though the death match idea is not an original idea, by any means, and The Hunger Games has often been compared to such stories as 'Battle Royale', it is not althogether fair to write Collins' work off purely as a rip-off or a replica of novels previous. This story holds its own, at least in part.
For me, the first novel was something worth fighting against the 'Battle Royale' critiques, etc. Strong, powerful and heartwrenching, Hunger Games is a well crafted tale of triumph, failure, friendship and perserverance amidst the great horror of forced violence, murder and death. Collins did well to adress these issues in a way that was both poigant and accessable (especially to the younger audience). It wasn't until the later novels that the story began to change adopting an aire of rebellion (far stronger than that found previously), a bigger cause, and a greater sense of struggle against the opressor. The story no longer becomes just about Katniss, or the Games, but the very structures in which these characters live. Enter, Dystopian novel archetypes.

Stephen King who has large amounts of praise for the series, added this in his review: "displays of authorial laziness that kids will accept more readily than adults." The general idea was that while the novels have great merit, there are flaws which the 15 year old female reader will be less inclined to critique (give or take a few). I must say upon reading this comment, I feel much the same way. While the first novel was polished and precise, the later two had some tendencies that wavered away from the main story including a few dashed-together scenes that in theory were good, but lacked the slow detail that would have made them shine like the rest. "authorial laziness" makes perfect sense to me when describing such tendencies - they are neither wholey bad nor entirely poorly written, just, lacking in depth and detail, especially when  contrasted to the rest of the novel. Especially the ending, which (of course) I won't give away, held a much more prominant sense of this laziness in my mind where events seem to build and build towards the great acts, only to be thrown together and wrapped up in almost a rush - a real shame, seeing as the feel and flow of the novels previous was such a strong point. Collins gets lazy, and thus seems to pull out of that which makes the novel truly a good one.

Plot points and focus become some-what muddled as the story continues through books two, and especially three, with big overarching themes that both rocked the events of the novel, but also turned many things readers held dear from the first book on their heads. Though in theory this is not a no-no, more time and care should have been given to such plot points so as the add a level of beleivability to the events despite the other worldly nature of the novel. When characters, events or situatuions are flipped so drastically, readers can feel a sense of betrayal, disconnect or disturbia that will pull them out of the novels. Though I wouldn't say Collins goes so far as to betray the readers, I did find the occasional turn jarring, and felt that more time and care could be taken to lead the reader into the changes and therefore make them more realistic and maintain continuity.

At times I found myself wondering what the real focus or drive of the later novels were - what the characters were leading up to, what was actually being done, and coming up with simply ideas like 'fighting against opression' or 'rebelling for the cause'. Fine... but, just because the target audience is young, doesn't mean they don't understand details of war and refugee living. Or at least, could LEARN to know them given the writer's intention to expand their knowledge. Collins doesn't hide to gore or the sorrow or the realities of starvation in Hunger Games, why are finer points so readily left out of Catching Fire and Mockingjay? Characters die off, triumphs are made or lost, and they become blips in plot, not moments of feeling and expansion. This is the real downfall. In order for the reader to connect, they need to be pulled into these moments, and often times I felt less of the story, and more of the point-by-point plot summary. Collins, though talented, lacks this continued reader-character connection, at times, that leaves the novels at a good, level but prevents them from being amazing.
There is so much I can say about these novels, and so much i have already said, but ultimately, I very much enjoyed reading them and felt they were an excellent option (if occasionally graphic) for younger readers. (much more preferable than some teen & YA lit out there today). With real feeling, and real issues, Collins begins to open the minds of young readers and older ones alike, but stops short of greatness as plots get bigger and slightly out of her grasp, losing focus on the character connection that so drove her story at the start. A return to this, and a more polished conclusion after 3 novels, would only serve to elivate what is widely considered a successful and enjoyable series. I am anxiously awaiting the release of the first movie, and hope it does the author justice rather than stripping it of all it's literary goodness.
If you haven't read these, do it. despite my critiques, I don't think you'll regret it.

The House on Mango Street

A snapping, poingent look into one girls suffocating life and bumpy coming of age, The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisnero is another example of her raw talent and unrelenting eye. An eighty-odd page 'novella' consisting of chapters ranging mostly within the length of 1-4 pages, Mango Street is less of a novel and more of a series of snippets and poems hitched together by the underlying current of supression, poverty and endurance.

Seen through the eyes of the young Latina girl Esperenza, the reader catches glimpses not only of Esperenza's life - desperate to escape the impoverished neighbourhood she seems forever confined to - but the lives of those around her, costantly observing. While the majority of the text focuses on Esperenza's day to day activities, the reader is also exposed to other ways of life on Mango Street alluded to by Esperenza's childish observations: the neighbour who's wife seems to look diffferent to everyone each time they see her; Lucy and Rachel the texan girls with whom Esperenza and her little sister Neeny form a close friendship; Sally who is embrassing womanhood at a speed far beyond Esperenza, despite their closeness in age. The other characters paint a picture of life on Mango street, and for esperenza, what seem to be some of the few options she might have to follow. However, despite hercircumstances, she is determined to bnreak free one way or another, and her first outlet becomes writing.

Esperenza often writes little poems or vignettes as a way to escape her surroundings and project a sense of future. Though it is never directly stated, by the end of the Novella we are led to believe that her ability to escape Mango, and yet always have a need to return, encompasses this act - though she may not remain physically in Mango Street, her heart will ever return there, as she writes the stories of those she new, helping them, too to escape.

One Day

When was the last time you read a book that was so good, so filling, so all consuming that you just couldn't put it down. You spent hours on end turning page after page, completely happy to spend the day wrapped up in whatever it was you were reading. For me, that book was One Day by David Nicholls. A painfully realistic, witty and sentimental novel, the characters and their lives grabbed hold of me from the very first line, and had me until the end.

The Novel, which has now become a Motion Picture (which I am both intrigued and terrified to watch, incidentally), revolves around the concept of one seemingly ordinary day - July 15th, to be exact, and visits the lives of the two main characters - Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley - on that day from 1988 and every year onward. Whether the characters are together or apart on that day, the narrative ties them together throughout the novel as the two discover what it means to grow up and remain (or fail to stay) [best] friends.

The style and voice of his writing is at once sentimental and powerfully moving (I must admit it brought me to tears on a few occasions), and wonderfully hilarious and witty – I even laughed out loud, something I RARELY do while reading. The humour: snappy, occasionally dark, and always understated was not only brilliant in its own right, but served to balance beautifully against the darker or dramatic aspects of the novel, making it a well rounded complete story.

The very style of the narrative – highlighting merely one day in a year of a life, allows for Nicholls not only to move quickly through time, but also to pull together a larger picture of actions and consequences. While we never see the ‘day after’ effect, we instead see the characters the following year, and can connect the dots as to which events we saw previously were trivial in the grand scheme of things, and which became pivotal life moments. Nicholls brilliantly handless the difficult task of keeping the reader connected and up to date with the lives of the characters without revealing too much or plunging into the boring tedium of daily life. By carefully constructing events and encounters around July 15^th he keeps the story both interesting and progressing, while firmly rooting himself in the rolls of an average and – exceptionally realistic – life.

The novel has an authentic, genuine quality to it which I personally found added immensely to the character of the novel as a whole, and thus my connection and emotional ties to the story. Set in Scotland and England primarily, with a heavy focus on Edinburgh and London, I couldn't help but love it just that little bit more, having recently visited both countries, and cities. The details in the novel such as street names, slang terms and landmarks were such that they familiarized the story to any reader with a good knowledge of the cities, but did not detract from any readers which may not. It made a nice change to read the story from view of a friend relaying a life compared to what can be described as 'informative narrative' [not sure if that's a real term or I've just made it up] which not-so-subtly explains culturally specific references to readers. 

Similarly, and more importantly, Nicholls paints his characters in sharp relief creating similarly real, relatable characters. They are, each in turn, both loveable and detestable as any human being would be. Dexter, who we might assume is a stereotype of the suave always-trying-to-be-cool guy: "He wanted to live life in such a way that if a photograph were taken at random, it would be a cool photograph" is soon revealed to be so much more than just an image, with all his triumphs and failings, rounding him into a complex believable character I couldn't help but imagine as real. Emma, on the other hand, is shown first to be the anti-conformist: "The problem with these fiercely individualistic girls was that they were all exactly the same. Another book: The man who mistook his wife for a hat. Silly bloody fool, he thought, confident that it was not a mistake he would ever make." but is soon revealed with her own set of short comings and secret assets. By the end of the story their lives are told with such complex detail, in such a realistic rollercoaster of events and emotions, that I couldn't help but think for a brief moment that the author could very easily have written his life story, for all the reality it seemed to hold. Of course, neither Emma nor Dexter are modelled after David Nicholls himself, but it is a testament to his talent that it seemed (for a moment) as such.

Though I think a great deal of why I SO connected to the novel was my own personal ability to relate so strongly with the character of Emma, I found this novel both engrossing and emotionally engaging in a way which to me suggested skill beyond circumstance. Regardless of whether I saw myself in Emma, I cared immensely for both (and all) characters within the novel, where their lives would lead, if they might reconcile differences with other characters or live out their dreams. A story, put simply, about life itself, David Nicholls One Day was just that – a beautiful glimpse, once a year, into the everyday (and therefore extremely complex) lives of two common Brits. Even when things didn’t turn out as you wanted them to – a quality in plot I find most admirable in one’s writing, you pour your heart into reading it just the same, and all the more. What more could you possibly ask for?

A Vist From the Goon Squad

An interconnected tale where one character leads into the lives of another, in some small, chance way A Visit From the Goon Squad the Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Jennifer Egan is a unique depiciton of multiple self destructive lives as they reflected, regret and hide from themselves. Often people find interconnceted stories a bit forced, or, for whatever reason, just simply unenjoyable, but Goon Squad had a simplicity and realistic quality to it which pulled characters together in a range of ways - from the significant to the unnoticed, in order the weave a full tapestrey of experience, leading some critics to describe it not as a Novel, but rather a Series of Short stories. (For my purposes I'm going to stick with Novel, because a that's how it read to me, and b) it was marketted/formatted as such.

Punchy and gritty, the novel is steeped in Punk and Rock and Roll - from the glamour to the depressing, dictating this in its own distinct style, both raw and refined, allowing the reader the taste of the times without diving fully into the culture of it (in say, Trainspotting style). The tone of the novel, however changes with each tale. Whether it be teen would-be punks with green hair getting wasted and tripping out at the local grunge bar, a struggling musician or the success of the CEO of a new record label, fame fortune and music preside over the story, tying them all together. With a focus on the dismantling of life over time, it follows the hopes and failures of life with a nearly objective clarity.

Because of the style of the novel - several little stories piled up into one, it is likely that the reader will find at least one which they can relate to on a deeper level, and connect their own path to. However, many of the tales are unfinished, or simply alluded to later when the name crops up in someone else's story, leaving the reader to fill in the blanks and try to connect the dots. I appreciated the fact that not all the dots are given to you. though I occasionally found it tricky, reading the name 'Drew' and thinking, where do i know that name from again? it was an interesting challenge to connect that character to the one from a previous story, and piece the aspects of a single persons life back together. I found it very life like, in that way, as discriptions and reminders were not provided (this is Sasha, she's the assistant, remember?) so that our understanding of characters was based purely on memory, and that hazy process of flipping through our personal memory name/face databases. This idea was further by the fact that the novel is not chronological, slippingfrom the late 60's to present day and back, while similarly picking and choosing between characters past, or teen years, and their adult (or even elderly) lives.

Though at first somewhat removed from the characters - perhaps the hard edged style or simply my own experiences didn't resonate with those in the novel as deeply as they might, preventing strong emotional attachment to the novel, there was still a sense of triumph in the little victories of the characters I read, and moments where I shared the empty broken feeling for girls like Jaqi who let her life slip away from them in a childish game of chasing their youth. Some of the most moving moments for me were, suprisingly, within the chapter written entirely in PowerPoint format, flowcharts and little graphs and speech bubbles rather than paragraphs. Not something I expected to enjpy 'reading', I found myself moved by the simple (and often unspoken) truths of the pages, and the underlying connection of pauses in music - a seemingly useles obsession, and yet it said it all: the unspoken parts of a song, the unsaid parts of your life. There was something beautiful in the formatting of these pages which I must admit, probablly wouldn't have carried as well in 'conventional' narrative form.

"Time's a goon, right?"
the novel is a vaguely multi-media approach to the destructive effects of time on the lives of those that most try and flee. Through each story, and each form it allows the reader to connect and observe from varying perspectives, the course of each characters life - those that succeeded or those that (more often) failed, winding up a million miles from where they started, or, more dissapointingly, in exactly the same place they started.