Revival

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice,” or so the common wisdom goes. However, unlike lightning, Stephen King strikes over and over and over again.

With his latest book, REVIVAL, released in November of last year, American author Stephen King adds yet another juicy, entertaining and well-thought story to a long line of successes that started with Carrie and ending with Mr. Mercedes (his last novel published before Revival in June of 2014). Although Revival might not rise to the status of some of his other stories such as The Shining or IT, it still does present us with a very rich reading experience. And here’s why.

First off, if you’ve ever listened to any of King’s interviews you will know one important fact about his story telling (and if you haven’t listened to his interviews, I am about to tell you anyway!), he always builds his stories around ideas of What If? Regular, mundane, everyday occurrences that he might encounter which then beg the question, What If? Then he takes that What If, runs with it, and then brings us these entertaining stories that he’s been sending out into the world since the seventies.

Revival is no different in being another one of those What If stories. I can’t really tell you the What If in this book because then I would be giving away some important plot points. But it begins with a young priest, a 5-year old boy, and a lot of what ifs in between until it reaches the climactic ending.

Another important fact about Stephen King’s story telling that shows very well in Revival is his complicated multi-dimensional characters. In Revival, the character of the priest, Reverend Jacobs is the one that stuck with me more, but it was a fulfilling experience to follow this character’s development over the course of the 400+ pages and the five decades over which the story unfolds.

Revival was released worldwide last November but is hitting our shelves recently, and you should pick it up because it has something for everyone. If you never read a Stephen King novel before, this could be a good starting point. If you are a fan, well you really don’t need this review anyway; we both now you’re going to read it no matter what I say. If you are in it for an entertaining read, then you will get the great characters, interesting plot line, and an above-average ending, that doesn’t take away from your overall journey.

But after all that being said, the beauty and strength of Revival and the reason I chose it as a subject for this review is that it’s thought-provoking. In this story, the author tackles so many themes, I’m not even sure he intended to highlight all of them but they struck a chord with his readers nonetheless. There are aspects of friendship, religion, faith, family, addiction, recovery and the big question of what happens after death. The great thing about King is that he does not force his opinions on the reader. He does express them, but he gives you, the reader, room to make up your own mind. And man is your mind going to be tripping after this book!

I can easily say that Revival is one of the most influential books that I have ever read. And the theme of lighting that runs through the whole story felt like the perfect metaphor for what I felt was going on in my mind after finishing it. Even if you don’t want to bother yourself with too many existential questions you are still in for a great ride. I can at least promise you that within the first fifty pages you will encounter one of the few scenes that will linger in your memory or a long time after closing the book.

أنا والصرصار

أنا والصرصار

هو يتحدانى. أنا واثق من هذا. رغم أنه لم يواجهنى ويكتفى بالوقوف ساكناً مولياً ظهره إياى, لكنى واثق أنه يتحدانى. وإلا فلم اختار أن يقطع طريقى أنا, فى هذا المكان وفى هذا الوقت وبهذه الصفاقة؟؟ هل تتبعنى, أم كان قابعاً هنا كل هذا الوقت ينتظر الفرصة المناسبة؟ هو يعلم بالتأكيد أن أفضل فرصة له هى الآن وأنا صاعد إلى شقتى على السلم بدلاً من المصعد الكهربائى كعادتى, لكن كيف عرف, من بلّغه؟ خصوصاً أن الكهرباء ليست مقطوعة, أنا فقط آثرت السلامة بدلاً من أن أحبس ساعة فى الظلام معلقاً بين السماء والأرض. قد يكون هناك من خاننى وبلغه. البوّاب؟ أو فريق مراقبة وتتبع؟ لا, هو يعمل منفرداً, غطرسته وثقته توحى بهذا, وبغض النظر عن آليته فى الاستطلاع فالأكيد أنى فى مواجهة داهية لا يستهان به, فكيف تفسر أنه اختار هذا الدور بالتحديد ليعد المواجهة؟ أنا أسكن فى الطابق الثامن وهو اختار الطابق السادس لإعداد النزال, على السلم بحيث لا أستطيع التراجع إلى الخامس عندما يبدأ هجمته وهو مسيطر على مدخل السادس. ليس هذا فقط, فالطابق السادس هو قمة الشعور بالتعب واليأس؛ النفس مقطوع, الأرجل متعبة والدور الثامن ما زال يبدو بعيداً. هو حقاً داهية, التسرع لن يكون فى صالحى.

الثوانى تمر والمؤامرة تزداد تعقيداً وكثافة كلما تضح أمامى عناصرها. أولاً كما ذكرت, الكهرباء ليست مقطوعة ورغم هذا نور السلم لا يعمل فى أى من الأدوار وأنا فى طريق الصعود. هى حرب نفسية اذاً, وأصابع الإتهام تشير إلى تواطؤ البوّاب. ليس هذا فقط, لكن...مهلاً, ما هذا؟ هذا الذى أمامى ليس من النوع المعتاد ولا حتى النوع الأمريكى المستخدم فى مثل هذه العمليات, لا أرى له قرون استشعار. هل يرتدى خوذة للحماية أم أنه يعتمد على وسائل تكنولوجية معقدة لم يتم الكشف عنها من قبل؟؟ ولونه, أسود قاتم غير البنى المنتشر فى بنى جنسه الذين يعيثون فى خراباتنا وبلاعتنا فساداً. هل هى ألوان الحرب, أم أن هذا نوع خاص لا يظهر إلا فى مثل هذه العمليات الإنتحارية, بلونه الأسود والخوذة وأحدث ما أنتجته تكنولوجيا المعارك؟ سوبر صرصار...كوماندوز.

على أى حال, عقارب الساعة تستمر فى الزحف وخصمى لا تبدو عليه أى علامة للتعب أو التململ. سوف يكون عندى وقت كافى فيما بعد للكشف عن تفاصيل المؤامرة وسأنزل انتقامى على كل من عمل ضدى , لكن الآن وقت العمل, التردد أو الانتظار سوف يكسبه ثقة فوق ثقته وأنا فى غنى عن هذا. حان وقت التحرك.

هو يقف فى منتصف السلم, إلى اليمين قليلاً, ظهره تجاهى ورأسه الخالية من قرون الاستشعار تنظر فى الاتجاه الآخر. لكنه يقف بزاوية لليسار قليلاً تعطيه ميزة تغطية النصف الآخر من السلم إذا ما قرر الإنقضاض. هذا بالإضافة للسُمك الغير طبيعى لأرجله الخلفية, فهو غالباً ينوى أن ينتظر حتى أمر بجانبه ثم ينقض هو على من الخلف. لكن لا, لن ينال منى, أنا لن أمشى من جانبهز سوف أقفز من فوقه, أبناء جنسه لا يستطيعون القفز لأعلى مباشرةً. لكن مهلاً, هل يمكنه الطيران؟! مثل هذا الكوماندو يجب تغطية كل الاحتمالات معه.

قوات المساندة تأتى, هناك نور أبيض يتحرك خلفى صاعداً السلم, أدور فى حركة سريعة حتى لا تتم مباغتتى,

"سلامو عليكو يا أستاذ محمد", قالها جارى فى الدور الثامن, الأستاذ مُسعَد, وهو يلاحق أنفاسه المتقطعة.

"وعليكم السلام يا أستاذ مُسعَد", قُلت حذراً.

"النور قطع تانى, خامس مرة النهاردة, وربنا ستر انه قطع وأنا إيدى على باب الأسانسير, آه والله يا أستاذ محمد"

وقبل أن أحذره من عدو البشر المتربص فى الظلام, كان الأستاذ مُسعَد قد مر منى ولم أعد أستطيع رؤية الصرصار. ثم دوّى الصوت حولنا مقاطعاً صوت أنفاس الأستاذ مُسعَد الثقيلة, لكن الأستاذ مُسعَد لم يُعِره انتباهاً, فقط استمر فى الصعود مخلفاً وراءه بقعة سوداء لزجة وبقايا نِد يستحق التقدير. أحنيت رأسى وأنا أمر بجانب بقايا المعركة وأنا أفكر كيف ومتى ستكون العملية الانقامية, ثم رفعت عيناى وحمدت الله على أنى أسكن فى الثامن مع الأستاذ مُسعَد.

بقلم:

محمد رفعت

Revolution

I have just finished reading REVOLUTION by British comedian and actor Russell Brand, and to feel moved enough to HAVE to write this review now and not later is a testament to how strong the ideas in this book are and how well written it is.

You could argue that I am just another blogger with ADD or something and my rush to review the book says more about me than the book itself. Could be true. I have no way of proving to you that this is not a habit of mine, but despite what our opinion of me or my reasons for writing are review is, please don't make it stop you from picking up this book and giving it a go.

Russell Brand (I just found this out after buying the book) is not only a comedian and actor, he also does stand-up comedy and has published to other books before this one. For me, I had only heard of him because I watched Get Him To The Greek, and I know he starred in Arthur. I didn't really consider him funny and his portrayal of the characters he played was too over the top. As you read this book you will find him admitting to this persona and he doesn't hide it, so I wasn't mistaken in my opinion, but when I turned to the first page of the book when I saw it on the shelf in the bookshop, and after reading the first few paragraphs, I knew I was in for a treat, and that not only is this guy funny, but as one review says on the dust jacket "the bloke can write".

The message of the book basically is that we need a revolution, based on love, non-violence, and more importantly is that it is a personal revolution from within first.

As much as the book is funny it is heavy with information, and IDEAS. And that's why I don't think I can or should try tackling these ideas here in this review, I wouldn't want to ruin it for you anyway.

So since this is a review of the book, I'll stick to the broader elements. First off let me say it again if you missed the point up till now: I believe you should read it.
The writing is witty and funny, so you are guaranteed a few laughs, dependant on your understanding of British humour in general and Brand's brand (see what I did there?!) of humour specifically. At times I did find the topics tedious and repetitive, but thankfully this doesn't happen a lot and usually took place in the last third of the book so you won't be cheated or anything. Also, considering that this is non-fiction and the chapters are short, you can just skip what you don't like and still get huge value for the money you will have paid.
The author is promoting a spiritual revolution and is obviously very invested in spiritual practices that I can't really elaborate on because I didn't understand all of them. Because of this, at time he can get bogged down by talking about what I considered to be esoteric topics that I didn't always grasp. Again, this doesn't happen too often and is grossly outweighed by the value of all other ideas presented in this book. And if you are thinking "what great ideas could a recovering drug addict comedian bring that I don't already know?", let me tell you that the good thing Brand does here is collect for you the ideas of other men much smarter (and socially active) than himself or most of his readers, and that's why you are probably going to pick up a few new things you never really knew about.

That being said, the great thing about this book; the thing that has gotten me to rush to the laptop to send this review out into the world, is that it moves you. After reading through 300 pages of Russell's words most of the time  hearing his characteristic British, Essex accent echoing in your head (could be just me?) you can't help but feel a revelation, an epiphany, even if only a minor one. He presents ideas, theories and statistics in a simple, easy and approachable manner that eventually they stick, they get you to think and if you do your own research, you will be unable to deny them.

I am not sure if I should share with you some examples of these revelations that I had after reading this book, because I don't want to spoil it, but I could tell you this, there are statistics here about imports, exports, politics, elections, agriculture and homelessness that will force you to question many of your own beliefs and all of those that have been forced upon you.

In short, Revolution is an eye opener. They could put the book's cover in the dictionary next to FOOD FOR THOUGHT.

Ghosts in the Attic

What do our memories mean? Do they define us? Or is the past dead? I once read that the past is not even past.

Do we just cling on to memories because they remind us of who we used to be, and invariably, people always like who they used to be better than whom they are now; unless may be if you were a drunk or a convicted felon.

Why do our memories move us so much? move us to tears, to hysteric laughter, shake us to our very core; or even drive us to enthusiastically deny that we are moved by them simply because who we are today is ashamed of them.

The ghosts of our past will, apparently, haunt us, may be even till after death. Is this a good thing so that we never forget were we came from and what made us who we are today?

The most vengeful of these ghosts are the ones you never see coming, the ones that were lurking in the shadows of your soul for so long you could never consciously summon them. But there they are very much alive, or dead, or whatever it is these ghosts are. The past is never dead.

We all know that you can never escape your past, shun it or deny it, but we all tell ourselves that that was who we were not who we are now. Could be true. But it will always be there, part, if not the whole, of we are and who we will become. Knowing that the ghosts are there is the worst part of it.

It may be a macabre picture to envision the inside of your soul, of your heart, like a bright beautiful house with a closed attic and basement that you ignore and act as if they are not part of the house. But they are, and that’s where are all the ghosts go to play. And those weird dreams you have sometimes; those figments of a life well behind you that sometimes flash before your mind’s eye; those faint far away sounds that come in and out of focus, that’s where they come from, from that attic and that basement.

Sort of like a journal (4) - 8/Dec/2014

For today's post, I declare to you here upfront that I will be writing for an audience; unlike my previous posts when I was  also writing to an audience but trying not to.

I know for a fact that my previous posts weren't seen by many. Actually they were seen by very few. So if you are one of those few, then the previous paragraph are for you, and if you are reading these posts for the first time, then welcome, thank you for reading.

This time I am intentionally speaking to an audience although I will maintain my M.O of rambling and just following my thoughts, but this time I want to ramble about and think of a topic that is close to mu heart and I believe might be to many others out there.

Just to get it out of the way, I call it being an introvert, or rather, the reason behind what I feel is being an introvert but I think it's just about being different.
I'll tel you right now that I'm not going to give a deep analysis about the topic and I probably won't add much to what you already know about yourself and the world around you. I'm just going to share my feelings in hopes that if you are, like I was one day, unaware that there are others out there, you may find comfort in knowing that you were wrong.

I'm not sure where I should start. I'll just start with this: remember that Think Different ad by apple? I think it was in the nineties. Anyway, part of the narration of that ad says "The round pegs in the square holes", and I can't help but feel tired at times by how square the world around me is.

If you feel what I mean, you are probably different. Different than those other people surrounding you. You may not have been so different if you were to exist in another time or belong to another place, but you are here (wherever that is to you) and you are now and no one gets you. You could be the nerd who likes science, or the geek who loves book. You could be the artist with a dark streak who likes to draw crazy scary pictures but is still dead good at it. Or you could be the skinny kid who's bad at sports and likes to write poetry. You could be anyone and anything. As long as you are not COMMON. You don't fit a stereotype, or you simply just to DO what everyone else around you does. That's when you know that you are the round peg and they are all trying to shove you in that square hole.

My point here is that each and everyone of the people who suffer from this, whether reading these words or not, has learned or will learn how to adapt; how to show the world what it needs to see in you while trying not to give up too much on yourself and not forget who you really are along the way. But sometimes it just gets darn hard. And the squareness is too much.

That's something I felt lately and I thought I should ramble about it here. I will not form this as advice or deep thoughts. I just wanted to say it and I have. This is not the first time I have written about this, whether with ink on paper or in other posts on this blog. But it still helps to let it out and dreaming that someone else who is different reads it and realizes they are not that different after all. Or maybe it's just me hoping that when you or anyone else reads and feels, then I can cling on to the hope that I am not that different after all.

Sort of like a journal (3) - 4/Dec/2014

I have typed and deleted three sentences. Why? Because just now I realized that the date on my last post was wrong and I changed it and I felt that I should mention this. Then I thought that it is not important or that it is not quite a strong start for this post. But then I remembered that these posts shouldn't be about thinking too much about the words but rather about the natural flow of it. So, here it is, the date on the last post was supposed to be 2nd December not 1st. Also, I hesitated in choosing the date for this post because you see, I have only slept a couple of hours last night and to me it feels as if it is still Wednesday 3rd December, while in fact it is the morning of the 4th.

I am now in Dubai for a meeting. I shall not elaborate more, because  don't feel this is the place to chronicle my life, however, it might be interesting, if I ever read this again, to remind myself of where I was. The other interesting thing is that I am typing this post on a bluetooth keyboard attached to my iPad that I am using for the first time; the keyboard that is not the iPad. It is interesting and kind of fun.

Now moving on. In my last post, which sort of feels like it was just last night, I was very pissed off. Now I am tired. A big part of it may be that I am physically tired of not having slept well for two nights and running around Dubai trying to cover as much ground as possible in as little time as possible. But that is not how I feel. I feel the drain mentally more than physically. And don't get me wrong, my life is going through some positive changes these days so I'm not complaining (and I'm not getting in to what those changes are either. Remember, not a chronicle). It's more like my mind has been racing to cover some urgent matters these past couple of weeks and I need to slow it down. This reminds me of what  mentioned last time about everyone believing they are geniuses who's minds are cramped with, well, genius. In case you haven't noticed, I am one of those people. That wouldn't make me any different than thousands of others, maybe millions, yet it remains for the world to determine who really posses something of worth within their minds,which in itself is a claim also probably made by myself along with everyone else. Just sayin'.

So, back to slowing down and feeling tired. I don't feel as angry as I was last time any more, but I do feel that I just don't wana give a F*** just for one or two days, nothing more. When I am in this state I usually feel serene, and I tend towards contemplation rather than trying to influence or fix things around me. If anything I probably enjoy life more, although I know this is not the regular me for I am usually hot tempered and trying to make everything better, which, again, is a claim most people make just before or after they describe themselves as perfectionists.

At this moment, I feel that the action of writing this post sort of contradicts my current desire for serenity although it does serve the purpose of contemplation. The reason i say this is because if the contemplation goes in the direction of looking into myself, I will get sick of it because either I will feel I'm trying to prove something to the reader which these posts are not about, or I will feel that I am repeating to myself what I already believe I know about myself which is sort of stupid an a waste of time. Or, I will be repeating to myself what I believe I already know about myself  for the purpose of reexamination, but that is not my idea of contemplation. At least not contemplation when my mind needs a little rest.

Between that last period (by period I mean that last dot and the end of the line above this one) and the first word of this sentence, a few seconds have passed as I was thinking of what to write next. I write this now, because this is exactly what is flowing through my mind and I am trying to stay true to my purpose.

One other thing. That remark I made between brackets in the above paragraph sounded condescending. I wrote it anyway to maintain the flow and here I am admitting it, also, to maintain the flow. And now, I also think I might have written it so that someone might read it and think "Oh, that's a great writer who can catch himself at such moments and have the courage to admit it!"

See what contemplation can do to you? I think this is enough contemplation for one day.

Sort of like a journal (2) - 2/Dec/2014

So much for keeping a journal!
I totally forgot about it yesterday, but here I am now, so I hope this still qualifies as me being consistent.
Now, let's see, what do I feel like writing about. I have many, sometimes too many, thoughts rushing around in my head. I bet everyone says that about themselves: "I have too many thoughts at any given moment. Oh my God, I'm a genius and my head can't hold all this power and it's pouring our of my ears!". Well, you probably guessed it, what I will talk about; I'm pissed off. Of what? Not sure, or rather, I do have some ideas, like being pissed of at everyone who thinks they are geniuses when they are assholes or more appropriately, idiots. In any case... I just noticed that I use this phrase a lot, but screw it, I'll continue to use it. In any case, let's just use today's entry to blow off some steam.

I won't intentionally start listing all the things that irritate me. What I will do is start talking about the first thing that comes to mind and let the anger flow from there.

I am, right now, fighting the urge to lash out at you, the person who is reading this, since in this instant you are a representative of the world outside of myself, and I'm basically pissed off at everything and anyone who is not me. And yes, I stopped hating myself years ago, now I mainly direct my anger outwards. Does this mean I'm an egomaniac? I'm not sure I know what that means or if it's the right word to use, but I'm sure you are smart enough to know what I mean, you're probably even one of those geniuses with all the thoughts coming out of your...ears. Just teasing you! Anyway, I do have my moments of doubting myself or hating myself for something I did, but I learned a while ago that hating myself won't do me any good; learning my lesson and admitting my mistake is much healthier and pragmatic. Hating the world? Still won't do any good, but since I can't get the world to be as pragmatic as I am and admit their mistakes and learn their lessons then I guess the world deserves to be hated.

Ok, let me tell you this, typing rapidly and banging the keys is actually helping a little: just letting you know in case you want to try it.You probably are thinking what a genius you are and how the world is missing out when you refrain from writing and sharing your soul with the world. So by all means , go ahead and bang at the keyboard.

I still feel I want to add more, write more, but the guy who's coming to fit my kitchen with cupboards (yes I moved into a flat with no kitchen cupboards and no sink for that matter) will be knocking at the door any minute, so I have to go and I pray to God he doesn't piss me off too.

Turns out he's actually a pretty nice guy, no pissing off took place during the making of this kitchen...yet.

I really don't know what I should be writing about. Honestly, I do have a few things I want to mention but I don't think should, so overall, I feel restrained and I don't think this is right or conducive to creative flow. So, I think I'll just wrap this one up. I am not happy of what I wrote, at least that's what I feel, I'm not going to reread and check so you can decide on my behalf.

I do feel that if someone has been reading this post they either stopped reading a while ago, which makes this sentences a moot point, or, that someone, YOU, in this case, have reached this far and so you deserve that I thank you and hope that my ramblings might have meant something to you.

To that end. I will be signing off
(cut to black and cue static)