The Brothers Karamazov (Fyodor Dostoevsky, 1880)

Fyodor Dostoevsky said he would die happy if he could finish "The Brothers Karamazov" because he would have expressed himself completely.

Having accomplished that goal, he must have died satisfied, leaving behind a book that has left a profound mark on the literary world, but also on people’s lives. I personally know of two people whose spiritual journey towards God has been launched largely due to this book.

I must admit that it didn’t have the profound spiritual impact on me that is has had on others, but that didn’t keep me from enjoying most of it – at 1,045 pages in paperback, I found it at times to be cumbersome both physically and mentally. But through the vast majority of the novel I was fascinated and challenged.

The Brothers Karamazov is the story of three brothers, their relations with each other and with their father Fyodor Karamazov, who is murdered in an apparent parricide.

The youngest son, Alyosha, is portrayed as the saintly or angelic figure. The second brother, Dmitry, is a sensualist driven largely by his passions and emotions while the oldest, Ivan, is a critical-thinking, but bitter, intellectual.

After being separated for various reasons for years, the three brothers find themselves living in their hometown in close proximity to their landowner father who is portrayed as devious businessman, buffoon, nefarious womanizer and cruel glutton who rarely takes the feelings of his three sons into account. This tendency of his is the driving force of the book, leading to his romantic pursuit of Grushenka, a woman whom his son Dmitry is also passionately in love with, his underhanded dealing with Dmitry in regards to the estate of his dead mother, and ultimately to his own murder.

Factor into the equation the presence of Smerdyakov, Fyodor’s apparent illegitimate son who has grown up in his household, raised by a servant couple that have become the boy’s adopted parents.

His strange upbringing his turned him into a nasty, scheming young man who plays a key role in the family affair that eventually ends with Fyodor’s death.

Like all of Dostoevsky’s works the book is a fascinating exploration of the human mind. Typical of his work, descriptions of countrysides and architecture are almost entirely absent, while the writer spends his time describing the geography of the minds of the characters by painstakingly documenting their thoughts and conversations.

I have to say though, despite all of its literary and religious importance, this book simply didn’t grip my heart like "Crime and Punishment" or "The Idiot" – two of my favourite books of all time.

I think that may be because those books had one central figure that the story revolved around, and shortly after picking up those books I felt well acquainted with them to the point where I could almost predict their thoughts and actions.

I felt this to a lesser degree with Alyosha, and later Dmitry, but I certainly didn’t feel the same level of intimacy or understanding of their character that I did in the previous two.

It may be because the cast of characters was simply too long -- like "Ocean’s Eleven" and "Ocean's Twelve" – the story was entertaining and interesting but there were just too many people floating around and not enough development of the ones I really wanted to get to know better.

That being said, it did take me a long time to read this book, and I got through it mostly in small chunks late at night before falling asleep. If I had read large sections over a week or so I may have a greater appreciation for the project as a whole.

But also, there are sections that I found pretty tedious – including about 75 seemingly out of place pages in the middle of the book in two chapters titled “The Elder Zosima” and “The Teachings of the Elder Zosima.” In the first, the life of the revered elder of a local monastery is set down, in the second, his – or likely Dostoevsky’s – religious views are hashed out in a long, long sidebar to the story.

There is also a long but rewarding chapter called “The Grand Inquisitor” which has been published on its own and is considered an important literary text by many Christians, atheists and intellectuals.

The chapter – a “poem” written by Ivan, an atheist, and shared with Alyosha, a Christian, portrays an interrogation by the “grand inquisitor” of Jesus Christ after he has returned to earth during the Spanish Inquisition, and has been arrested.

The inquisitor, a Catholic cardinal, argues that Jesus can’t return now because his presence would interfere with the goals and mission of the church.

While this chapter, like the others, is not directly tied to the plot, it is a beautiful piece of writing on its own and warrants more attention than I gave it.

All in all though, it’s filled with intriguing insights into the Russian mindset and into man’s seach for God, and the way our passions – both love and hatred – drive our decisions and actions and cause us both happiness and pain, and how the line between the two is often indistinguishable.

Without a doubt, TBK is recommended reading for anyone with an interest in literature – but it’s a pretty big commitment and I certainly wouldn’t recommend it as an entry point to Dostoevsky’s work. But it is typical of his style, and definitely won’t disappoint anyone who has enjoyed his other works.

Wade Davis is smart and cool

I've kicked around a few dusty corners of the globe and I like to think I've explored some places that few other people will ever get to. And I've always prided myself on the fact that I'm a traveller, not a tourist. It's a concept that has become a bit of a cliche in recent years as ecotourism and adventure travel have become mainstream concepts -- but I've always tried to live it out as a way of life whenever I'm in a foreign culture, whether it's Regent Park or Nouadibou.

I've worked hard to meet people in the various places I've been, and find out what life is all about for them -- what they believe, how they live, who they love and why. To me these have become essential elements of any adventure or cross-cultural experience.

But Wade Davis takes the concept to an entirely new level. As an "ethnobotanist," writer, filmmaker, scholar, and the only Canadian National Geographic Explorer in Residence, he's pretty much the best when it comes to exploring other cultures and finding out what makes them tick.

I had the pleasure of watching an early release of his new four-part NG series: "Light at the Edge of the World" which is airing on Wednesday nights on that channel, and was suitably awed by his ability to crawl inside the skin of foreign cultures. In this case, he is studying vanishing cultures and efforts to preserve them and pass-on ancient traditions. The quest takes him to Peru, the Himalayas of Nepal, the Canadian Arctic and Polynesia.

I had the chance to interview him and find out a little more about what makes him tick. Click here to read my full story on "Light at the Edge of the World."

Rocky Balboa (2006, written and directed by Sylvester Stallone)

My dad and brother and I bonded over the Rocky movies. When I was a kid, and as a teen, and through the times we didn’t have much in common, we always had Rocky. He was this common denominator that we could all rally behind and cheer for – an underdog with an unstoppable heart whom we believed in.

Every time (and there were many in the first five films) Rocky dug himself out of some low point, and began to mount a comeback, whether it was on the beach training with Apollo Creed or screaming “DRAAAGO!!” from a snowy Russian mountain top, we were there rooting for him.

Who wouldn’t be?

So I have a bit of a personal investment in the whole collection, and I must admit I was a bit anxious about Rocky Balboa, Sylvester Stallone’s newest installment.

Let’s face it, Sly, God love him, is pretty old to be getting back in the ring, and unlike Rocky 5, the climax of this film is a full-on classic Rocky-style bout. Despite my deep faith in Balboa’s abilities, before the film I thought to myself “this is bit of a stretch.”

But the beauty of Rocky is that like every true hero, he doesn’t act within the laws of reason that govern the rest of us. In the film he tells his son, “I stopped caring what other people thought a long time ago,” and if you’ve been there since the beginning – you don’t doubt the truth of those words.

The film begins with Rocky living in the same old neighbourhood where we first met him. Adrian is dead – and oddly there’s no explanation as to how she passed -- he’s estranged from his son, and Uncle Paulie –- still boozing, smoking cigars and working at the meat plant -- is the only family member still close to him.

Rocky owns a restaurant where people come to meet the champ and hear some of his old fight stories, but his life is pretty empty and he spends most of his time mourning Adrian and feeling sorry for himself.

“You’re walking backwards,” shouts Paulie, in one of his trademark outbursts.

In what appears to be an attempt to exhibit some of Stallone’s acting, ahem, talents, much of the film is dedicated to exploring the depths of his grief. It’s a bit much, to be honest, and super cheesy and predictable, involving a woman, her tough son, and Rocky’s efforts to reclaim a purchase on life through helping them . Meanwhile, he’s also working to rebuild the fragile connection with his son Rocky Junior (Milo Ventimiglia – Luke’s nephew from Gimore Girls) who predictably feels like he’s living in Rocky’s shadow.

But Stallone definitely channels Rocky. He’s as he always was – clumsy with his words, cheesy with his humour, gentle and earnest but willing to let his temper loose when necessary. In short he’s still the Rocky we love and for that I salute him.

But like the film, I’m taking too long to get to the action. The premise of Rocky Balboa is one of its most brilliant qualities.

Mason Dixon, the undefeated world champ with 30 wins and no losses (played well by real-life boxer and former undisputed light-heavyweight champion Antonio Tarver) is hated by boxing fans because he’s never gone 10 rounds with an opponent and seems to be lacking the “heart of a champion.”

A sports network puts together a computer generated simulation fight between Balboa and Dixon, and Rocky comes out the winner by knockout.

The fight generates a lot of interest, and gets Dixon’s promoters thinking about doing it for real, since there are no worthy opponents left out there for Dixon anyway and it might be a way to win some fans.

Rocky, meanwhile, starts thinking about boxing again and manages to get a license, after giving a rousing speech to the unwilling Pennsylvania State Boxing Commission about how he’s earned the right to decide whether he’s ready to fight.

“This is who you are Rocky. This is what you do. Fighters fight,” Maria, played by Geraldine Hughes, tells him, convincing him to accept the “exhibition” challenge.

But anyone who knows Rocky knows he doesn’t stand for half-assed measures, and he puts his all into training his ancient body to duke it out with the world’s best.

Enter the training sequence – a trademark Rocky feature that my friend Phil and I were anxiously waiting for. I couldn’t help but cheer when it began with a quiet ‘da da da da, na na naa na na naa,’ leading into lots of classic Balboa workout shots and ending beautifully but predictably with the champ running up the stairs at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. So, so good.

The film ends with the fight scene, of course, and it’s a classic heart wrenching, emotionally –charged Rocky moment that seals the RB’s status as a full-fledged member of the franchise. Like the crowd in the film, I wanted to jump to my feet and usher Rocky out with a standing ovation as he said farewell to his fans.

A couple of things jumped out at me that set this installment apart from the others, particularly one through four. For one thing, Sly is just old. There’s no doubt he’s in amazing shape for his age, but his aging body is showing some mileage. It literally looks like one of the massive sides of beef he’s been known to spar with, and at times it’s a little painful to watch.

And also, the fight scene just isn’t as believable as in the earlier films. The punches just don’t look like they’re landing, and there are fewer of the close-up glove-to-face smashes that can’t be faked.

And while the film has a grainy quality that hearkens back to one through three, for some reason Stallone decided to incorporate a few cheesy camera tricks, like slow-motion, and an over-used technique during the fight where everything goes black and white except for the blood, which is of course, bright red.

It’s a bit much, but doesn’t take away from the overall quality of this farewell film in a dynamite series.

Rocky fans will love it, but first-timers probably won’t appreciate what it’s all about. You need context to fully get this one, but for those of us who have that history, it’s awesome!

Weird observations: Duke, a stalwart member of Rocky’s entourage ever since Apollo Creed died and he moved to Rocky’s corner, comes out of nowhere to make the briefest of appearances at a news conference – apparently as Rocky’s trainer -- where he says something like ‘a great fighter never loses his punch.’ And that’s it, we don’t see him again. UPDATE*** I've been corrected. Duke does come back. He helps Rocky train. There's a great scene where he tells Rocky that Dixon is faster then him, can out-box him, and is in better shape than him "So what we have to do is build some blunt force trauma," he tells him. And shortly after the Kettlebells make an appearance.

Also, Mason ‘The Lime’ Dixon looks a little flabby, and one of the fight announcers makes reference to it saying something along the lines of “Dixon’s not in the best shape we’ve seen him in,” but there’s no other reference. Maybe Tarver didn’t hit the gym hard enough before the film and Sly thought he had to reference the fact.

Paulie’s best line: “What’s the matter, you pissed because they took down your statue?”

The Vice Guide to Travel

Click below to listen to my first audioblog on Vice's newest travel offering

Gabcast! My AudioBlogs #1

Children of Men (2007, Alfonso Cuaron)

What if winter is over? Not just because spring came early this year and we didn’t happen to get much snow, but over for good, forever? The snowy, bitingly cold six-month winter seasons of our childhood, a thing of the past?

What would the result be and how would we react?

It’s easy to project that the outcome wouldn’t be good. Global warming would speed up, agriculture would be knocked off its axis, entire countries would be submerged as the rising temperatures melted the polar ice caps and ocean levels began to rise.

It would be a bad scene, and it’s reasonable to imagine that people would become desperate and all hell would break loose, and the world – or at least large portions of it – would descend into chaos.

Those frightening thoughts – too real this winter, with little snow or ice marking the season – were rushing through my head as I left the cinema after watching Children of Men last week.

The film, based on a novel by P.D. James and directed by Alfonso Cuaron (Great Expectations, Y Tu Mama Tambien) is based on a premise that is so easily imagined it’s spooky.

The story is set in 2027, in England, in a world where humans have stopped giving birth, and no new babies have been born in 18 years.

The grim reality of the situation is brought home at the beginning of the film when the news is broadcast that the world’s youngest person – somewhat of a celebrity – has been killed.

Clive Owen’s character, Theodore Faron, greets the news grimly, but callously, and you get the impression – as he pours booze into his coffee – that he’s beyond caring about much.

England has fulfilled many of 1984’s prophecies. Near-constant public service announcements urging citizens to turn in illegal immigrants, constant surveillance, and the public exhibition of caged “fugees” all indicate it’s a grim state of affairs and apathy could get you killed in short order.

Theo gets a full dose of the reality of the situation when he is kidnapped by the Fishes, a rebel group fighting for the liberation of the imprisoned refugees.

His former partner and the mother of his dead child, Julian Taylor, played by Julianne Moore, whom he apparently hasn’t seen in years, is one of the leaders of the group.

Theo gets drawn – unwillingly at first – into the fight, which in some ways becomes his own battle for meaning and substance in a world that doesn’t seem to have much left of either.

Theo’s purpose – his sole goal – becomes protecting and delivering to safety a newborn baby, a “miracle child” -- the one life that can possibly bring hope and restore faith for the human race.

The lawlessness and chaos is portrayed brilliantly in an almost Mad Max style of delivery. And as the people around Theo begin to get killed off one by one, you get the full sense of the fragility of life and the desperation of the people.

But in one compelling scene, especially, you see proof that this world is not yet beyond redemption. A blizzard of fighting is taking place in a refugee camp where immigrants have been sequestered – with the military bringing in heavy artillery and waging war, seemingly indiscriminately on the largely innocent population.

As Theo and the child’s mother Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey) attempt to escape a building surrounded by tanks and soldiers, the baby’s cries suddenly pierce the chaos, and the stunned soldiers and fugees stop fighting and stand in awe – almost worship – as the child is carried through their midst.

It becomes clear that this life, which Owen is risking his own to protect, has the ability to restore peace to a hopeless world, in Christ-like fashion.

My only real criticism of the film is the incredible abruptness of the ending. I wanted more. But perhaps it’s fitting. And it is definitely refreshing not to have all the ends tied up neatly, and as a result I’ve spent the last few days constructing what may have happened next – which I take is a good sign.

There are moments when the film is hard to watch – but it’s always in context and fits with the extreme sense of urgency as the characters race to accomplish their goal surrounded by madness.

But the few gruesome scenes weren’t as disturbing, to me, as the sheer plausibility of the story. The realistic portrayal of exactly how our world could be in just 20 years if we don’t stop screwing with it, and start fixing it.

It's a Wonderful Life (Frank Capra, 1946)

I’ve been on an old movie kick lately. In the past two weeks I’ve rented "Casablanca" and "Breakfast at Tiffany’s," and on the day before Christmas Eve some friends and I met up at the Bloor Cinema to watch "It’s a Wonderful Life on the big screen."

Now, all three of these films are guaranteed to warm my heart and remind me of just how great, great cinema can be. But Frank Capra’s 1946 black-and-white masterpiece, "It’s a Wonderful Life" hit a whole new level.

Of course I’ve seen it dozens of times, but it’s one of those films that can be brand new all over again depending on your mood, the atmosphere and the people you’re with.

In this case, my mood was very festive because Christmas was just around the corner. The atmosphere – the Bloor – was perfect, complete with hot apple cider, baked goods, hot chocolate with Bailey’s and a crowd that clapped and cheered and sighed and cried at all the right moments. And the people I was with, of course, were the best part – good friends spreading their Christmas cheer, including two friends who for some reason had never seen it before!

No matter how many times I watch it, IAWL still has the power to bring tears to my eyes. It’s just such a compelling story. If you haven’t seen it, here’s a quick synopsis: George Bailey is about to leave his hometown of Bedford Falls to go to college, when he is asked to stay back and help run the building and loan company that his father started, and to stand up to the town bully, Potter, who is trying to take it over.

George agrees to stay, despite his dreams of travelling the world. He eventually falls in love and starts a family, and his presence in Bedford Falls makes the town a better place.

When things go badly, however, and the small loan company suddenly faces bankruptcy because of a simple mistake, George Bailey comes unhinged, gets drunk and mean, and considers giving it all up. At that very moment, in Ebeneezer Scrooge fashion, a stranger comes into his life and shows him what Bedford Falls would be like without him, and as a result how valuable his life actually is.

After the film we went out for a beer, and my girlfriend asked me what scene was my favourite. I had a tough time answering. There’s a scene where George and Mary Hatch, played by Donna Reed in her first starring role – meet again after their initial romantic spark has begun to fade. George comes to her house, and she has set everything up just so, in order to impress him and remind him just how lovable she is.

But George is in the midst of self-pity and bitterness at his fate, and the fact he feels trapped in the small town he once vowed to leave far behind him. While he’s there, a suiter calls for Mary, setting up one of the key moments in the film. George and Mary share the same phone talking to the caller, and despite George’s anger and Mary’s disappointment, a palpable chemistry develops between them as they talk. Volumes are spoken without hardly a word being shared between them, and eventually the phone conversation is forgotten and their romance is firmly re-established.

The scene is a key to understanding the battle going on inside George Bailey. He's deeply conflicted. He loves Mary, but he’s desperate to hang onto his dreams. “I want to do what I want to do!” he tells her harshly. That theme plays out through the entire film, when he’s forced to give up plans to go to college to run the business, when his dreams of travelling the world fall by the wayside, and when the depression hits and he calls off his honeymoon to save the building and loan.

The climax of the film comes when all those disappointments have added up and disaster strikes, and Bailey realizes that this time, all of his best intentions can’t pull him through, and he hits rock bottom.

In the wrong hands, this film could have become just another feel good story with a positive message. But Frank Capra’s directing, and James Stewart’s believability make it more than that – it almost becomes an illustration of the human condition. That’s due in large part to the honesty in the storytelling. There are heartbreaking, harsh moments, such as when George screams at his daughter to stop practicing Christmas carols on the piano, or when he grabs his son and holds him in a violently tight grip, tears streaming down his cheeks, only to shout at him a moment later.

But that stuff is real: George loves his family but when everything goes wrong they are the ones he lashes out at. That honesty lends a genuineness to the film and makes the ending so much more compelling.

Like "Casablanca" and "Breakfast at Tiffany’s," IAWL is one of those timeless films that can be seen over and over again, and can break your heart every time.

"Consumption": Kevin Patterson, 2006

Dr. Kevin Patterson has been fascinated with the harsh, barren landscapes and lonely seascapes of the Arctic since he first travelled there to practice medicine more than a dozen years ago.

Since then he's made regular pilgrimages to the tiny, isolated communities perched on the edge of Hudson Bay, first as a family doctor, then as a specialist in internal medicine, treating illness and disease.

At the same time, he's learned about this remote, rugged corner of the globe through the stories of the people who live there.

Those tales, many consisting of the heartbreaking life experiences that have come to define the Inuit culture in many ways, help form the basis of Patterson's first novel, Consumption.

Click here to read the rest of my feature on Consumption (a great book!), and my interview with the author