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Kaufman and Kristoff’s “The Illuminae Files” pt. I

Hi there! This is my first attempt at blogging about books I’ve read for leisure. I was inspired greatly by the bookstagram and booktube communities in Instagram and YouTube, respectively, and while I enjoy seeing content from both platforms, I feel like there’s something else I want to see from book bloggers that’s currently not present in the content trend today. I’ve seen a few bloggers here and there whose content I really liked (a personal favorite is booktuber @LilyCReads), but I guess it’s high time I shared my personal sentiments and commentaries myself. I still don’t know where I want to take this, but starting somewhere is better than nothing amirite. Anyway, here goes.

Note: This is a spoiler-free review. Part II, which I will link here as soon as I’ve posted it, will most likely be full of spoilers because I will talk about the key themes and important quotes from the books. Beware and proceed with caution! :-) 

Title: The Illuminae Files (trilogy); Illuminae (Book 1), Gemina (Book 2), and Obsidio (Book 3)

Authors: Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

Genre: science fiction, military space opera, epistolary

Rating: 5/5 stars

Story Time!  ✨

Before I dive right into the books, let me tell you guys a bit of a backstory. I’ve always enjoyed science fiction, especially space opera (a close contender is steampunk). Mind you, though, I wasn’t really part of the Star Wars crowd (I was more of a Harry Potter pre-teen) as I was growing up, so I can’t really point to the franchise as the origin of my interest. No, I’d say I started getting interested in the science part before I discovered that it could be fused with fiction. I loved encyclopedias and the annual almanacs when I was a kid, and up to this day it still baffles me a bit that I was that kind of kid before books and (eventually) the humanities dragged me into their fold. I was deeply fascinated by the heavenly bodies, and up until I realized I had acrophobia (fear of heights), I even wanted to be an astronaut. My venture into science fiction and its subgenres was a little less scholarly. I’m not ashamed to share that I fell in love with space opera through fan fiction, specifically an old X-Men fan fiction. That masterpiece really changed my reading experience.

It was my youngest sister, a bonafide bookstagram lurker, who introduced the Illuminae Files trilogy to me. All she said was, “It’s an epistolary. I think you’d like it,” and I was already purchasing the second book (she already bought the first one). This is where it gets kinda funny, because originally, I read Book 2 (Gemina) first before I picked up Book 1 again this summer. I read the words “...breaking up with her boyfriend” in the synopsis and I instantly got turned off haha! I easily dismissed Illuminae because I thought it was just another typical YA love story packaged differently (but ultimately still the same formula), and I was just so exhausted with the same old variations. For the record, I was wrong, okay. But anyway, my sister assured me that I wouldn’t miss much if I start withGemina (which, totally false) and that the spoilers were negligible (only because when I got “spoiled” in Gemina, I didn’t realize at the time the significance of what I found out ahead, and when I picked up Illuminae, I already forgot most of what happened in Gemina). [Story Time: End]

Now that story time is over, I just wanna point out that after typing this whole chunk of word vomit, I realized that I’m already so chatty and I haven’t even started on the books themselves! I swear, I’m only letting this run as long as this because it’s the first one, and I have a lot of behind-the-scenes anecdotes that I really want to share. I hope I don’t drive y’all away hahaha, so let’s just jump into the “review” part. 

The Gist  ✨

The year is 2575, half a millenium ahead of what constitutes as “today”. Human civilization has moved past the uncertainty of space explorations, of the search for the “second” Earth. Distant corners of the universe? Not so distant anymore. Space travel that spans light years? Now simply one “jump” away. For all the fancy technological advancements that humankind has achieved, they still aren’t beyond mass murder for the sake of money and resources. At least that’s what I gathered when megacorporation BeiTech Industries brutally massacred the citizens of a small far-flung colony called Kerenza IV, where there was a ongoing illegal mining of hermium, a precious resource in this universe. The trilogy revolves around the protagonists, victims and survivors of BeiTech’s brutal invasion, and their search for justice while fighting for their lives in the yawning emptiness of space. There are all sorts of characters within each book, including a Skynet AI, and all sorts of trouble as well.

Reactions   💖

Stylistics. As I’ve mentioned above, all three books are hashed out through a collection of files, chat logs, and video transcriptions to name a few. And duuuuuuude. Kaufman and Kristoff really did an incredible job with the lay-out of Illuminae Files--hats off to their entire team, there is no denying the genius behind their concept of what an epistolary is. It was exciting to dig into the books to examine every detail and every Easter egg that they left in each well-planned page. Although, I’ll be honest here, there were a few times that I really got confused and lost in the story--not in the sense that I was intensely absorbed with what was happening but rather, because there were a lot of details and clues to take in. It was easy to be overwhelmed by everything that was happening. Add the fact that there were events happening simultaneously, and were described in completely different media (this will make much more sense once you pick up the first book). I don’t consider it an entirely negative thing because the confusion really helped in blindsiding me from most of the major plot twists; in fact, I’d say I enjoyed the story more when my theories were debunked by the more awesome plot twists.

World-building and plot. Speaking of plot twists: the plot had some really well-placed surprises and shocks. I love that the romantic scenes were not distastefully added. In fact, instead of stealing the limelight from the major conflict as well as the science-and-technology “vibe” of the story, the romance further heightened the stakes that the protagonists were risking with every decision and plan they concoct. 

The authors did not give us 600-pages of long-winding narratives (per book) and chunks of justified text divided into chapters--no. They gave their readers a feast of visual exercise and yet, using less words (than a standard 300-page novel) and hardly a clear-cut linear plot progression, they raised a lot of important questions that we could use some time to ponder on (more about these in Part II--beware of spoilers, though!). What I always look for in science fiction (and fantasy as well, for that matter) is a well-executed world-building. It doesn’t matter if the premise is unique if the author did not manage to back the novelty of their idea; sometimes, if the world-building is particularly lacking, it really puts me off from the plot itself. In the trilogy, it wasn’t a problem at all, which helped to make me more absorbed with all the adrenaline-infused twists upon twists in the story. 

I also have to commend how well the authors incited reactions from their readers--at least in my reading experience. One particular conflict in Illuminae really gave me goosebumps and sent a chill down my spine (won’t elaborate haha you’ll know if you’ve read it!!). Ugh, remembering it as I type this has me shivering involuntarily again. Those were some real creepy scenes, I tell you.

Characters. Most of the protagonists (but not all) paired up in different points of the story, so it’s easy to view them as such: couples. I don’t think I hated any off the them, even with my initial avoidance in reading Illuminae because of Kady and Ezra’s established relationship; in fact, the romance between all of them turned out to be not overbearing at all. Having said that, I think it’s a great disservice to each character, especially the couples, to view them only within the confines of their relationship dynamics. Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff both did a great job in adding layers upon layers of character development of the protagonists; furthermore, they were not stingy in adding characters and giving them actual personalities, and even though at certain times the sheer amount of characters got really confusing, in the end I consider it a plus on their genius and detail-oriented world-building. These two did not hold back in conceptualizing and planning. They were good at deliberately leaving out certain information, that’s true, and they got me to believe that nothing was amiss--only to exclaim “oh shit…” when things finally fall into place. 

On the other side of the spectrum, BeiTech’s foot soldiers were ruthless and machine-like, and performed well as villains; however, what I loved about Illuminae Files are the details that the authors added--seemingly inconsequential details that will make you pause for a bit and remember that these brutal murderers are just as human as the protagonists, that while it’s easy to view them as merely “BeiTech”, there are still individuals behind the uniforms and high-calibre assault weapons. These details will lead you to the thought that both villains and heroes experience the same spectrum of human emotions, and it is jarring and terrifying to be reminded that only a thin line divides the two “sides”.

Anyway, this is where I’ll end Part I.

Watch out for Part II soon, which I will link below as soon as I’ve posted it.

Wow. So that was a pretty intense word vomit. Apologies for being so chatty, and if you managed to read this until the very end, thank you so much! I’d love to know what your thoughts are, if you’ve read the trilogy or if you’re planning to), etc. Let me know if you liked this type of in-depth (read: intense and overboard) review or if you hated it haha! Leave a comment or hit my ask box and I’ll be happy to reply! Part II will be up soon. See you! <3

Photo credits:

Book covers | bumblebeerosee on Redbubble

Space | Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash

Space (2) | Max McKinnon on Unsplash

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[ MEMORY, circa 2014 ]

Waking up at 6AM on a weekend, during the break (a rare feat). Going down the stairs, spotting Dad taping up the box where I kept my drawing and drafting tools (with vague plans to sell them off to my friends from architecture school). 

Hearing dad sniffle once, twice. 

Staying motionless for a few moments at the foot of the stairs. Not knowing what to say. Feeling shitty all over again, because "Why am I the wrong daughter for my good parents? Why couldn't I stick with this and bear it all? Why did I have to do this to my parents?" 

Standing next to Dad, and Dad embracing me. Crying. Both of us crying. Dad telling me, "Nasasayangan lang kasi ako, anak (I just feel a bit regretful, my child)." Feeling my throat close up for the millionth time since--God I am such a fuck up. Saying "sorry sorry sorry, I'm sorry" over and over again. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorr--

(I just wanted to be out of the sad dump that I've fallen into.)

(I just wanted to stop making my parents cry.)

(I just wanted to be relatively not sad.)

I'm glad that today, it's better. It really gets better.

Featured Image from demiiwhiffin via Tumblr; words from Katy Maxwell's Girl of the Earth

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the enormity of adulthood

Year 18 has just ended, and what a year it had been.

When I turned 18, a lot of people asked me what felt different, but I mostly felt the same after the 4th of March, or even after I had an "official" birthday celebration. It didn't really feel any different from being 17, from being  young and willful.

As the year passed, I gradually saw what made the 18th year different from the previous one. And I suppose I should be writing about what's different now that I just turned 19, at the cusp of leaving the emotionally-taxing, spirited teenager years with one last half-baked, semi-adult year. But I realized that I can't actually write about a life I haven't lived yet, so I thought this would go better if it were about what it's like to be 18 and newly-integrated into the "adult" side of the dinner table.

A decade ago, I was just eight years old and turning 18 seemed like the biggest possible highlight in all of my youthfully naive hopes and dreams. It felt like once I crossed the 18th mark, everything about adults would finally make sense and that I would basically know everything. My 8-year-old self would have been disappointed to discover how un-glamorous it was to turn 18. But ten years ago, I was also hoping for all the wrong things. We all realize how painfully (sweetly) gullible we were as kids only when we've become jaded adults, and sometimes it's tempting to wish that we could travel back in time to just give our younger selves a heads up on the terrible things that could or will happen.

Even I am not immune to occasional wishful thinking.

So, I compiled this list of eight things I wanted my eight-year-old self to have known, from my never-the-wiser eighteen-year-old self. I know that as adults, we all have those moments where we wished to take our younger selves aside and tell them, "Girl, you ain't usin' that brain of yours for nothing just so you could sabotage your adult life."

Anyway, here goes my little "cheat sheet"/"advice column" to my sweet little young self. <3

(1) No matter how many times you promise to yourself that you'll never make mom or dad cry, you will.

Eventually, no matter how vehemently you say that you'd never ever--no matter how much you disdain sons and daughters who do so, no matter how you simply can't imagine fucking up so bad that you'd make Mom or Dad cry--well, you will. Make Mom and Dad cry. And it will really fuck you up so bad because of course you never meant to do that; it's just, things happen and sometimes (most of the time) Mom&Dad won't be able to understand you--but believe me, they will always try to. But sometimes (most of the time), you don't even understand yourself, so it'll be hard. Be ready for that. It doesn't mean that you get the award for World's Worst Daughter (even though most of the time, it feels like that). It just means that you're not emerging from the mold of parental and societal expectations the way you're supposed to turn out, and that's okay.

(2) You have wings, and they're meant to make you soar.

But one way or another, something or someone, circumstances, will clip your wings and prevent you from taking off. It doesn't mean that you'll never get to--I'm still working on that part--and most especially, it does not fucking mean that it will be your Downfall. It doesn't mean that you will plummet. And even if you do, you're allowed to slip and stumble and fall.

You're allowed to hit rock bottom.

But most importantly, you're also allowed to get up, dust yourself a little, wipe the dirt and tears away... You're allowed to climb up again, and you might not be as pristine white as before or as uninjured, but you sure as fuck will be stronger now that you have something higher to climb. Use the figurative rock bottom as fuel to propel yourself higher, and we're good here.

(3) DON'T. FUCKING. PICK. AT YOUR FACE.

Seriously. Don't pick at your face and your teenage skin problems you foolish child oh my goodness I am having a fucking hard time in reversing your future heinous sins against skincare!!!!!! (No chill hahaha)

(4) STUDY WELL.

It's not an obnoxious, overrated advice. It's not me being a nagging mom. I mean it. Study well and hard and be intelligent but also clever and street smart. Elle Woods and Hermione Granger will say so, again and again, and this is one of the greatest things that you could learn from fictional characters.

You don't study because you're in school and you're part of the top students, and that medals weigh like metal glory wrapped around your neck.

Study (and study well), because it will be your weapon, and it will be the weapon that will introduce you to something better. The weapon that will protect you from stupidity. The weapon that will open doors of opportunities and most of all, it will open your eyes and make you SEE. And although not everything you'll see will be pleasant, it will still be your protection against ignorance. And study well because not everyone gets the luxury to be stupid and remain painfully so; it will be your duty to be informed and to know better, not because you're superior, but because the knowledge that comes with being educated must live on through the people, the students, who are willing to carry the burden.

(5) Boys are just boys and you shouldn't spend so much time worrying about getting one.

Boys aren't commodities that you count on your fingers or cross off your checklist or bucketlist. Boys from elementary school will barely register as blips in your 18-year-old self's radar oh my freaking bad. THEY WON'T EVEN GROW UP WELL, JEEZ (lol). Boys from high school...are precious and prized friends and will be the brothers you wish you had, minus the daily exposure.

Boys aren't everything.

You will come to a point in your life when boys won't matter as much as your studies and the problems of the country. They don't rank as high as before in your list of things to think about daily, and that's fine. Men will have a proper time, a proper moment, in your life--and I'm not saying this as a certified Tita of Manila but as the older, more settled version of you. (As settled as I believe I am today, lol).

(6) It's okay to change your mind.

It's okay to have preferences, and for those preferences to change annually, monthly, weekly--hell, even daily. It's okay to choose. And it's okay just as well to not choose. It's okay to choose to hang out with people who have the same preferences as you, and to ditch them (politely) just as well. It's okay to hang out with people who does not share your preferences once in a while and pick up something new from them.

It's okay to build yourself up as a different person from your family--mom, dad, your sisters and cousins, your friends. It's okay to change yourself--for the better. As long as you know you'll be happier, it's okay.

(7) Your fashion sense has always been garish. Keep the people around you who will bring out your good angles because you really, really need their guidance.

It's not your fault that you were born with a bad fashion sense. It's also not Mom's or Dad's fault if they don't bother with dressing up, or that they're conservative and only wants to protect you from the hungry eyes of sexual predators. That's okay and all, but it's also okay to discover your own color and style different from what your parents or society dictates to you. It's okay to dress up because it makes you feel good, but it's also okay to not dress up and just show up in a haphazardly thrown together ensemble when you're not feeling it.

Value the people who would help you establish your expression and character, not because of vanity, but because it's rare for people to want others to look their best--and that's something to value above many things. It's rare to encounter this kind of sincerity, and I know that at some point, it would be easy to be so mistrustful of other people and their nice gestures. At some point, you'll be fooled into believing the wrong impression and view about your body and your self. Don't be saddened when you discover this, because toxic people can be muted not just on Twitter but also in real life. New, nicer, and more sincere friends will come along and help you rebuild your self confidence.

Realizing that you could be so much more than what you believe about yourself, more than what others believe about yourself--it will be one of the most radical things to happen in your life. It's gonna be sad that some of the old people in your life misled you about your self-image, and that you let them, but it's not worth getting upset over when you have the real you to release from social construct imprisonment.

(8) Crying is only for special occasions.

I'm not telling you to hide your tears or even hold them back. No. Crying is totally allowed. I know that pop culture depicts adults as washed out half-people who are miserable and slightly disconnected with their emotions (and sometimes I feel like it rings truth), but it doesn't mean you have to turn out that way, emotions repressed. That's like being a robot, and kid, trust me when I say being a robot leaves nothing to be desired. Don't cry so much for failures, for heart breaks, for rejections; no matter what everyone says, you can build yourself back up from anything as long as you really want to do so.

Cry, but only for the things that matter.

Like innocent Pixar movies for children. Or epic supporting character deaths in action movies. Or the massive fight between Iron Man and Captain America in Civil War. Or insanely profound albums. Or simple, pretty photos.

Because those things really hurt.

Cry when you're hurt, but only for the good kind of hurt.

The enormity of adulthood is something that cannot be encompassed by a single word, or experienced and realized in one day. It's so easy to look forward to adulthood, especially since society doesn't take us "kids" with as much seriousness that we deserve. Finally, I get a say in this or that.

It's easy to dream of a glamorous adulthood. But I think what counts for the washed out feeling of being just another zombie in this chrome-filled world, is when kids step into adulthood and see how gray and dreary it is.

Don't be like that.

It's easy to tell children to not lose their bright flames, the bright yellow of childhood happiness. I'm not telling you to not lose it, because I think it happens to everybody. I'm telling you, hold on to it. As tightly as you can. And when you feel the remnants of your simple joys in life slipping away, it's also okay to let it go.

But don't give up the bright-eyed outlook you have in life, about life.

I always say these days, "The world needs more positivity." And it does. We do. So be that slight blip of positivity in this world of negativity, and don't let yourself be snuffed out. And be more fun, you little killjoy. But only your brand of fun.

I promise you, everything works out in time. Not all at the same time, yes, because I'm still working on making my stuff work out this time; but stop worrying your little brilliant mind so much and just be a good person.

Even if it's hard.

Featured photo by: Anthony Delanoix via unsplash.com

[tricialucido-blog]

tailoring women

I am tired of making adjustments.

I am tired of squeezing myself a little bit further to the right just so someone else could pass through before me. I am tired of letting people get ahead of me because they feel too self-important to wait their turn.

I am tired of being told to be more patient, more forgiving, because you're supposed to be softer and kinder and you should know better, because people need the room for their little insecurities and adjustments and the need to fucking belong. I am tired of telling myself to be more patient and more forgiving because I am supposed to do so, because holding on to a little of anger or annoyance will not merit to anything, that being angry is unattractive.

I am tired of giving concessions all the fucking time. I am tired of adjusting to give way for other people's egos or self-absorbed selves.

I am tired of all those things, but you know what?

I am superlatively tired about this:

I am tired of holding my breath and pulling my tummy in because my skirt just won’t fit, and it’s the last size and I really like this fucking skirt. (And it's not too short that I have to constantly worry about the wind fluttering the wrong way or something).

I am tired of valiantly finding ways to "cover" that bra strap so eyes wouldn't follow the exposed line and imagine what lies underneath the shirt. (Spoiler Alert: Nothing. Just a ratty bra and the lumps of fat that it's covering for the sake of, get this, propriety.)

I am tired of of tugging my hemline a little more downwards, so I'd look "decent", so people wouldn't accidentally see what's underneath, even if it's just some constricting spandex I wore to hide my underwear.

I am tired of keeping my eyes down, of looking at the other way nonchalantly, just so I wouldn't catch the eye of the man sitting obscenely inside a delivery truck, the man who's not-so discreetly following me with his eyes as I trudge by, the man who tries with a "Hi miss!" and believes he could fucking get away with it. I'm tired of keeping my eyes down so I wouldn't catch the eye of the guy in front of me inside a jeep, so that I wouldn't see the leer he's smugly giving me. So I wouldn't "make" myself an easy target. Eyes down, and there's a higher chance of surviving this short walk from my apartment to my first class. In broad daylight.

I am tired of always second-guessing everything I wear, not because of thoughts like "Can I actually pull this off?" but because of thoughts like "Am I ready to feel unwanted gazes creeping on me for the whole day?"

I am tired of feeling uncomfortable with my skin, because I know that no matter which part of me that I cover up or expose, eyes will always follow me and no, it's not because I am phenomenally beautiful.

It's because I am a woman, and precisely because I am a woman, everyone has free fucking reign to ogle and judge my body no matter what I'm wearing, no matter what I'm saying or how I'm acting. Free reign to regard me like I’m meat, like I don’t amount to anything else but my mortal flesh (nevermind that I am a sentient thinking person who has emotions and beliefs and dreams and--)

Precisely because I was born a woman, I have a one-way ticket into a tragic life of being constantly objectified.

I am so fucking tired of patriarchy and society's asymmetrical treatment of women.

Society celebrates and "respects" women who cover up from head to toe, women who are "pure" and women who are subservient and prim-and-fucking-proper. Women who aren't as straight-laced are automatically viewed as sluts, as girls practically begging for a "good time", girls who are temptations and, What's wrong with indulging with a little touch, a little taste?

She was asking for it, he says as he defends himself for catcalling a teenager out in the streets to have some fun with her friends.

I am so fucking tired of men who think they are so fucking entitled to free access to all the women they could ever want just because they have dicks.

I am so fucking tired with how respect for women is still so fucking selective, awarded like it's such a HUGE privilege for a woman to be respected in this day and age. Society awards respect to the select few who meet the "qualifications" of a woman who "deserves" respect, qualifications imposed by--surprise, surprise--patriarchy.

You wanna know what I think?

Scratch that, I’ll tell you what I think whether you want to know or not.

To hell with patriarchy.

I am tired of trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

I want to walk down the street with my head held high, outfit and makeup on point because I am confident and because I am comfortable with my skin. Because I am comforted by the idea that nothing untoward will come my way just because I am happy to own up to the woman that I have the potential (and right) to be.

I want to stop fearing for my safety, my "purity", my "womanhood", at every corner I turn to.

I want to start smiling in public because I know that smiling at someone will not translate to "I am willing and I am asking for it".

I want women all over the world to step up and stop shaming their fellow women because they do not conform to what patriarchy wants. I want women all over the world to stop shaming other women for their brave choices. I want women all over the world to stop maliciously assigning each other tags that patriarchy created for us to hate each other.

Women, we are not what patriarchy made us to be just so chauvinist fucks can continue undermining us in every way.

Women, our enemy is not our fellow women.

Our enemy is patriarchy. Our enemy is also our inability to defend our right to be treated as people who deserve to be seen as people. Our enemy is how we perceive ourselves as weak. Our enemy is how we tell ourselves that we can't.

I say, “We can.”