Movie Review: Kamikaze Girls (2004) Japan Shimotsuma Monogatari
Netflix recommended this to me after I gave Battle Royale a 5 star rating. I’m starting to have a thing for Japanese movies, and after reading the description I knew I had to get it.
Summary:
Highschooler Momoko may live in the countryside, but she’s big city fashion at heart. Her babydoll, Rococo style frilly dresses, parasols, and bonnets make her stick out like a sore thumb at her school. Ichigo is a member of a rough, tough girl biker gang. Their paths cross when Momoko sells some of her dad’s Versace knock-offs to acquire money for more dresses. A tentative friendship develops, affecting both girls forever.
Review:
The box for Kamikaze Girls claims it’s a Japanese comedy. Although live-action, it definitely employs some of the zaniness seen in comic Anime films, so if that’s not your style, consider yourself warned. I enjoy zany humor though, so I appreciated it here.
The acting is great. The actresses playing Momoko and Ichigo play perfectly off of each other. Ichigo walks tough and speaks gruff, while Momoko gently reprimands.
Japanese fashion is highlited here, making for excellent eye candy throughout the film. Ichigo’s clothes are Easternized versions of Western punk fashion. Momoko’s richly styled frilly dresses definitely hearken back to the 18th century France inspiration.
What really makes the film though is the plot. This is a movie about friendship between young women, and their friendship doesn’t revolve around talking about men. They support each other, instead, in making decisions about who they will be. Instead of it seeming forced that they weren’t talking about men or sex or drugs, it felt completely natural. They just had more important things in their life right now. Should Ichigo stay in her growing gang or strike out on her own? Should Momoko try to break into fashion design? Can a Rococo girl also ride a scooter?
If you like quirky foreign films and want a solid friendship movie, look no further than Kamikaze Girls. You won’t be disappointed.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Netflix
The Masterpieces App
I recently acquired an iPod Touch, which led to me downloading some apps. This means that the Oregon Trail app is competing with my current read for attention on my commute. One day though while browsing the app store, I found one called “Masterpieces.” It was around 20 books for 99cents.
I have no idea why I bought this. I have a distinct aversion to eBooks. I don’t care if that makes me an old fogey at the ripe age of 23; I much prefer holding the paper book firmly in my hand. Not to mention that I hate staring at screens for fun when I stare at them at work all day.
Today though my bus was abnormally full, which led me to standing and holding the pole with one hand leaving one hand free. Usually that’s enough to hold a book, but my current one has a broken binding and pages that have to be held in. I also couldn’t play the Oregon Trail with only one hand. All of a sudden, I found myself opening the Masterpieces app. Just as I had chosen a classic to start reading, a seat next to me freed up. Relieved, I sat down and pulled out my paper book.
I realized later though that although I was relieved to be able to read my paper book, I also was relieved when I was standing up that I had an option besides music to get me through the commute.
Maybe there’s a place in my life for eBooks after all.
Movie Review: Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
I love horror films, and I’d been meaning to watch this classic for quite some time. Netflix is so good for making you finally get around to seeing movies you’ve always meant to see.
Summary:
Rosemary and her actor husband move into a new apartment despite protestations from a friend that the building has a bit of a history of odd things happening. Their new neighbors are a friendly, elderly couple. In fact, Rosemary finds them to be a bit too friendly, but her husband likes them and insists the friendship be kept up. Soon Rosemary is pregnant, but there is something odd about her pregnancy she can’t quite put her finger on until it is too late.
Review:
This is the type of horror story I love. Something sinister lurking in the background of the main character’s life. Everyone around her telling her she’s the crazy one or that she’s paranoid with only the main character and the viewer seeing what’s really going on. This gives such a different scared vibe than the more typical, oh we’re in a scary hotel room for one night ahhh.
The cinematography has that classic 1960s feel that I personally love. Maybe there’s a technical term for it, I don’t know, but it’s that awkward shot. Instead of every shot being perfectly clean cut like in modern films, the actors aren’t always in center and focused. People are off to the side. It gives almost a mockumentary film feeling without any of those staged interviews.
Mia Farrow’s acting is truly excellent. Her facial expressions show the wheels turning in her head even when other characters are in the room with Rosemary. You can see how Rosemary senses something is wrong, yet she isn’t sure what exactly.
Ruth Gordon, playing the elderly neighbor woman, also offers up an excellent acting job. She plays to perfection that horribly annoying elderly woman who everyone else finds delightful but you just want to stop touching your throw pillows. It may seem like an easy part to play, but it is a fine line to walk, and she executes it perfectly.
I think what kept me from loving the movie as opposed to just really liking it were the odd dream sequences. These too have a classic 1960s feel, but not in a good way. They feel fake, and jerked me out of the world I had been sucked into. I think most of the dream sequences could have been done without.
There is no way to discuss the social commentary this movie makes without giving away a massive spoiler, so let me just say that women’s agency is central to the plot of this film and is one of the main reasons I liked it.
If you enjoy horror, 1960s cinematography, or subtle social commentary, you will enjoy this film.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Netflix
Book Review: Living Dead in Dallas By Charlaine Harris (Series, #2)
I generally lean a bit more toward stand-alone books and trilogies, but every once in a while I get caught up in a series. Currently, I’m caught up in two–Sookie Stackhouse Series and Dark Tower Series. Anyway, I decided I should warn you guys if a book is in the middle of a series by placing (series, #number) in the title. So be warned that means there will be spoilers for books preceding that book, but probably not for that book itself. Got it? Good! There are currently 9 books in the Sookie Stackhouse Series and 7 in the Dark Tower Series, so don’t despair! Stand-alones and trilogies will be back shortly. Now, on to the review!
Summary:
Sookie discovers yet another murder in Bon Temps when she finds Merlotte’s cook, Lafayette, dead in the bar’s parking lot. She doesn’t have much time to even think about the murder, though, because Eric has called upon her to fulfill her duty to the vampires. She’s been hired by a vampire nest in Dallas to investigate the disappearance of one of their brothers. Sookie discovers there’s more to the supernatural world–and the natural one–than she ever bargained for.
Review:
Maybe it’s because I have yet to see the second season of True Blood and thus don’t have the awesomeness that is that tv show to compare to, but I found myself liking this entry into Sookie’s escapades far more than Dead Until Dark. The first book is much more about the murders than the supernatural world Sookie finds herself on the edge of. Here, she is forced to confront the fact that, yes, she is dating someone from an entirely different world than hers.
This key plot element is what drives the story in a two-pronged fashion. First, Sookie encounters far more supernatural beings than she has before–shapeshifters, werewolves, vampires, a maenad, and another telepath. The supernatural world is far bigger and more complex than she ever imagined. Vampires weren’t one lonely group separated from everyone. They’re a group in an underground world that is straddling both worlds and neither seems too happy about it. This makes the whole idea of vampires coming out of the coffin more interesting, because the other supernatural creatures have one thing in common with the humans: they aren’t happy with the vampires for coming out.
Second, Sookie finally has to deal with the fact that, much as she loves Bill, he has his faults just like anyone does. His just run a bit more shocking to her, because he is in fact a member of the undead. Bill tells her at one point that he hasn’t been human far longer than he was human, and he often forgets what it is like to feel human. There is definitely an element of Bill that is a monster, and Sookie sees that. Bill may be trying to control it, but it’s there. Sookie moves past the honeymoon phase of the relationship and has to decide if her and Bill really are a good match. If the pleasure of loving him is worth the difficulties and struggles.
All the strong features and weaknesses of Dead Until Dark are found here. The conversations are again, excellent. I particularly enjoyed when a werewolf calls Sookie “little milkbone.” On the other hand, the multiple storylines of many characters found in True Blood are again absent here. I think, however, as the series progresses, it will be easier to see this as Sookie’s story and True Blood as Bon Temps’ story, and Sookie is enough of a three-dimensional character to keep it interesting.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Bought on Amazon
Previous Books in Series:
Dead Until Dark
Book Review: The Gunslinger By Stephen King
Summary:
The first in King’s epic, Tolkien-like Dark Tower series, The Gunslinger introduces Roland who lives in a world similar to, yet different from our own. He is the last gunslinger, a kind of wild west type warrior. As he pursues the Man in Black across a desert in the first of many steps toward his goal of the Dark Tower, some elements of his dark past are revealed, as are some secrets of the many parallel, yet somehow linked, universes.
Review:
I admit it. I’m not normally a Stephen King fan, but after two people I know started devouring this series, I decided I had to know just what was so exciting.
I’m shocked to discover, I like a Stephen King book. I’m not so shocked to discover that this is an incredibly male book. Roland’s life centers around violence, guns, a quest, the women he beds, and taking care of a boy. It isn’t just the plot line that’s masculine though. The writing style is decidedly male. Roland is abrupt and to the point. Instead of talking about his heart fluttering, he gets hard-ons. Instead of his palms sweating with nerves, his balls retract up tightly against him. It’s gritty, dark, and male. And I liked it.
It reminds me a lot of watching old westerns with my father. This shouldn’t be surprising, since in the introduction King essentially says that he set out to write the American version of an epic in the style of Tolkien. What’s more American and epic than the wild west? Oh, I know, a parallel universe version of the wild west. With mutants.
It is a bit slow-moving at first. That’s not surprising, though, given that it’s the first in a series of seven. Think of it as the introduction chapter, only prolonged through two-thirds of the book. It’s not a boring introduction by any means; it just takes a while to get attached to the characters and thoroughly engrossed in the over-arching story. That’s ok though, because King provides plenty of nightmarish scenes in the mean-time to keep you reading.
I’ve always had a bit of a tendency to thoroughly enjoy more masculine stories just as much, if not more than more feminine stories. (I was the little girl who was excited to watch the war movie marathon on Veteran’s Day.) If you know that you enjoy this type of gritty story, definitely give The Gunslinger a shot. You won’t be disappointed.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Borrowed
Movie Review: Choke (2008)
I promised you guys more than just book reviews, but what can I say, I read more books than I finish movies and definitely videogames. I play them a lot, but it takes me forever to finish. Anyway, I’m finally keeping that by-line promise. Here be my first movie review! (They will be much shorter than the book reviews).
Summary:
Vincent had to drop out of medical school to get a full-time job as a colonial reenactor in order to pay the bills to keep his Alzheimer’s mother in a good home for people with mental illness. To help boost the bank account, he sometimes pretends to choke in fancy restaurants, then sues his rescuers. Of course, that’s what he goes to meetings for. He goes to meetings because he’s a sex addict. When he meets his mother’s new doctor, he starts to question who he really is when he discovers that he might sort of actually like her.
Review:
I admit it. I have a weakness for movies about legitimately crazy people finding their way through life. Particularly when finding their way involves falling in love. Although the title implies that Vincent’s scam is the focus of the movie, in fact it is about how his random childhood with his mother and foster families made him who he is today.
For a movie based on a Chuck Palahniuk book, this isn’t very graphic. Clearly since Vincent’s a sex addict, there are some moderately graphic sex scenes, but there is little violence and the sex is pretty normal. I’ve seen more disturbing scenes on Entourage.
The acting is good. It’s nothing mind-blowing, but it’s not bad either. Setting of the scenes is done quite well. It feels like the everyday world cranked up a notch.
What makes Choke interesting isn’t the violence shock factor that Fight Club had going for it. Choke modestly proposes that it’s ok to be a bit crazy–in moderation. It also dares to suggest that we can be who we decide to be instead of what society says we are as long as we’re aware enough to make that conscious decision.
If you want gratuitous sex from the author who brought us the violence of Fight Club, don’t bother with Choke. However, if you enjoy movies about the mind and what makes us who we are, give Choke a shot.
3.5 out of 5 stars
Source: Netflix
Book Review: Dead Until Dark By Charlaine Harris
Since I watched the first season of True Blood and loved it, I decided to read the book the first season is based on. This was an interesting reversal for me, since usually I’ve read a book then seen the tv show/movie that is made from it. Anyway, this review naturally contains comparisons between the two, so be warned there are spoilers for both Dead Until Dark and the first season of True Blood.
Summary:
Sookie Stackhouse, a waitress in a bar in a small town in Louisiana, has been wanting to meet a vampire ever since they came out of the coffin a few years ago. She gets her chance when Bill Compton, a vampire who was made right after the Civil War, moves to her town of Bon Temps. Bill is in turn intrigued by Sookie, because she is different from other humans–she can read minds. They start dating, but it’s not always easy to date a vampire–especially when local women known to hook-up with them are being murdered by an unknown killer.
Review:
Charlaine Harris’s strength as a romance novelist is definitely witty conversations between our heroine and the various male characters in the books. They are witty and come across remarkably real considering the paranormalness of the plot. She also sets scenes well. I’ve never been to Louisiana, but I could just feel the humidity in the air as Sookie partook in various night adventures.
Something that bothered me when watching True Blood was I just couldn’t understand what Sookie found appealing in Bill. I find him dull, boring, and ugly. In the book, though, it is abundantly clear that what is so appealing about Bill is that Sookie can relax around him since she can’t read his mind. The amount she relaxes in scenes with just him is palpable. I therefore understand why she chooses to overlook his various faults.
The book is written in first-person, and I think this was an unfortunate choice. It limits our ability to see everything that is going on in Sookie’s world. Most notably missing is Jason’s storyline. In True Blood vampire blood is sold as a drug, V, and Jason becomes addicted to it. Thus, his odd behavior with Sookie is understandable. In the book though we only hear hints of V being used by anyone and certainly not by Jason. Jason is just a douchebag. This limits the levels of story in the book, and I missed the multiple storylines.
*spoiler warning*
The end of Dead Until Dark almost makes up for this though. In True Blood the murderer comes for Sookie, and she is saved by Bill and her boss, Sam. In the book though Sookie is left entirely on her own and saves herself. She finds the faces the murderer alone and defeats him. She finds her inner strength and just keeps fighting back. The murderer even says that the Stackhouse women were the only ones to fight back (he also killed her grandmother). They didn’t just lay back and let it happen. That’s what makes Sookie such a great romance heroine–she is strong and independent. She doesn’t need her relationship with Bill, but she does want it. This makes their romance much more fun.
*end spoiler*
Finally, if you’re a romance novel reader, you might be wondering about the quality of the sex scenes. Well, they do exist, and they are not corny. However, they also just aren’t that exciting. Harris keeps them short and to the point. No witty, fun double entendres are used, either, which is one of my personal favorite aspects of romance novels. This book isn’t one to read for the sex scenes; it’s one to read for the storyline.
If you could mash up the best parts of Dead Until Dark with the best parts of True Blood, you would have a truly amazing story. Unfortunately, both versions have flaws that hold them back from excellence. Dead Until Dark is worth reading if you enjoy paranormal romance. If you just want to read the books because you like True Blood for anything but the main Sookie storyline, though, don’t bother reading the books.
3.5 out of 5 stars
Sources: I bought Dead Until Dark and Netflixed True Blood.
Book Review: The Year of the Flood By Margaret Atwood
Summary:
Toby, a spa-worker, and Ren, an exotic dancer and prostitute, have both survived the waterless flood–a global pandemic that has killed almost all of humanity. They also both used to live with The Gardeners, a vegetarian cult that constantly warned of the impending apocalypse. A series of flashbacks tells how they survived the pandemic while the question of what to do now that the pandemic is mostly over looms large in their lives.
Review:
Margaret Atwood is one of my favorite authors. I love dystopian books, and she has an incredible talent for taking the current worries and news items and turning them into a near-future dystopia. Toby’s and Ren’s world prior to the waterless flood isn’t anything to be happy about. Slums dominate. Gangs run rampant. The world is now run by a giant evil corporation (which is somehow worse than a giant evil government? *shrugs*). It’s really the little things that makes this future world believable. Kids wear bracelets that have live mini jellyfish in them. Species have been spliced together to make new, more usable ones, such as the Mo’Hair–a sheep whose wool makes perfect fake hair for women. The people who don’t live in slums live in corporation-run compounds where everything they do is monitored. What makes this dystopia wonderful is how plausible it all seems.
Really, though, all of these dystopian features are just a back-drop for the real stories. Toby spends years hiding with The Gardeners and running because one man, Blanco, decided he owned her upon having slept with her. When Toby defied him, he vowed to kill her. He haunts her life for years on end. Similarly, Ren falls in love with a boy in highschool who breaks her heart yet somehow keeps coming back into her life and repeating the damage.
This is a book about mistakes. About how thinking we own the Earth and its creatures could cause our own demise. About how sleeping with the wrong man just once can haunt you for years. About how loving the wrong man can hurt you for years.
This is what I love about Atwood. She has such wonderful insight into what it is to be a woman. Insight into what haunts women’s dreams. When women talk about what scares them, it isn’t nuclear war–it’s the man in the dark alley who will grab her and rape her and never leave her alone. Toby’s Blanco is the embodiment of this fear. She sees him around every corner. She’s afraid to go visit a neighbor because he might find her on the street walking there. Setting this fear in an other world makes it easier for female readers to take a step back and really see the situation for what it is. Yes, he’s a strong, frightening man, but Toby let him disempower her by simply fearing him for years. This is what Atwood does well.
The pandemic, however, is not done so well. Too many questions are left. Where did the pandemic come from? Does it work quickly or slowly? Some characters seem to explode blood immediately upon infection, whereas others wander around with just a fever infecting others.
Similarly, the reader is left with no clear idea as to how long it has been since the pandemic started. On the one hand it seems like a month or two. On the other hand, the stockpiles of food The Gardeners made run out quite early, and that just doesn’t mesh given how much attention they gave to them prior to the pandemic.
I also found the end of the book extremely dissatisfying. It leaves the reader with way too many unanswered questions. In fact, it feels completely abrupt. Almost like Atwood was running out of time for her book deadline so just decided “ok, we’ll end there.” I know dystopian novels like to leave a few unanswered questions, but I don’t think it’s appropriate to leave this many unanswered.
The Year of the Flood sets up a believable dystopia that sucks the reader in and has her reconsidering all of her life perceptions. Unfortunately, the ending lets the reader down. I think it’s still worth the read, because it is enjoyable for the majority of the book, and I am still pondering issues it raised days later. If you’re into the environmental movement or women’s issues, you will enjoy this book–just don’t say I didn’t warn you when the ending leaves you throwing the book across the room. ;-)
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Library
Book Review: Leviathan By Scott Westerfeld
Thanks to my friend Margaret for lending me her ARC of Leviathan! I’ve enjoyed Scott Westerfeld’s other YA books, and my recent surge in curiosity about steampunk (due to love of the fashion) made me extra-curious about this new YA steampunk book.
Summary:
World War I takes on a whole new look when the Allied powers function utilizing machine-like, genetically engineered animals, and the Axis powers use tanks that walk using steam power. In this alternate history reside Deryn and Alek. Deryn is a teenaged Scottish girl who pretends to be a boy so she can join the air service working aboard the Leviathan–an ecosystem that resembles a zeppelin. Alek as the son of the assassinated Austrian archduke must go into hiding in Switzerland, escaping with a few loyal servants and a walker–one of the walking tanks. Their worlds end up colliding, as worlds tend to do in a world war.
Review:
This book should come with a warning. “By YA we mean for middle schoolers younger than the characters, not late teens like Westerfeld’s other books.” Although this is technically YA, it reads like a children’s book. Some would say the lovely illustrations throughout made it feel that way, but I don’t think that’s the case. Some adult books are full of wonderful illustrations, yet we still know they are meant for adults. I really think it’s the storyline and the writing that came off so young this time. Maybe Westerfeld wanted to write younger, but his publisher should have notified his fans that this is a book meant for younger people.
Westerfeld does an excellent job of explaining the Darwinist world in a subtle way to the reader. I have difficulty even explaining the flying ecosystems to people, yet I understood them perfectly in the book. Similarly, I had no issue picturing the walkers, even though I couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to build such a thing. I also liked Deryn. She is a well-rounded character–with flaws, but still someone a young audience can look up to. Similarly, the most intelligent person on the airship is a woman, which is a feature I highly appreciated.
On the other hand, I found Alek to be a completely confusing and unsympathetic character. At first I thought he was about nine years old, then overnight he seems to be fifteen. Yes, I know his parents died, but I don’t think a fifteen year old would be playing with toy soldiers the night prior, regardless. Similarly, Alek repeatedly makes stupid decisions. I know characters sometimes make them, but he makes them so often that I just want to slap him upside the head. There is very little that is redeemable about Alek. By the time he makes a wise decision, I was so sick of him that it failed to raise my opinion of him at all.
Similarly, I’m bothered that all of the servants loyal to Alek are men. Why couldn’t a single woman be loyal to him? Deryn’s world consists of both powerful men and women, yet Alek’s is entirely male except for his low-born mother. I know this is early 20th century, but if you’re going alternate history, why not empower a few more women along the way?
Even though there is steam power and Victorian clothing in an alternate history, Leviathan didn’t feel very steampunky to me because, well, the setting is Victorian! Maybe I’m too into steampunk fashion, but I would have been far more impressed if all these things were true in an alternate history of the Vietnam War, for instance, or even World War II. I think World War I is just far too close to the actual Victorian age to truly feel like an alternate, steampunk world. I get enjoying books written in the Victorian era from a steampunk viewpoint, but current authors could be far more creative when utilizing this genre.
Finally, I have to say, I hate the ending! I know Westerfeld is a huge fan of writing trilogies, but this ending is far too abrupt. I was left going “what the hell?” instead of feeling pleasantly teased about the second book in the series.
Leviathan isn’t a bad book. It isn’t painful to read, and the storyline is enjoyable. It’s kind of like a mash-up of Jurassic Park, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and your typical 21st century YA novel. Only minus all the blood, guts, and gore. Middle schoolers with a taste for the whacky will enjoy it. Older teens and adults should choose more sophisticated steampunk–perhaps even the classic 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
3 out of 5 stars
Source: Borrowed ARC from a friend
Why BookSwim Is Bad for Reading
BookSwim is a business that essentially claims to be the book version of Netflix. I’d been to their website a few months ago, but when someone reposted it on Twitter I revisited. I was immediately struck by how the whole thing bothers me. After a bit of pondering, I realized why.
BookSwim is attempting, subtly, to become a monopoly in the supply of books.
They claim to be more convenient and better than borrowing from a local library, cheaper than buying books, and more trustworthy than eReaders. They also claim to be better than swapping services like SwapTree, since you’ll be getting new or barely used books instead of old copies. However, they understand you may still want to buy a book, so you always have the option of buying a book you have rented from them and then just not returning it. Soon, all you will need for books is a BookSwim account.
Everyone knows monopolies are bad from an economic standpoint. Where there’s a monopoly there’s horribly high prices, and the item being offered becomes a mark of wealth rather than something everyone uses. However, I see a monopoly of this type as dangerous to literacy, intellectualism, and even freedom.
How easy would it be to censor what the public reads if everyone attains their information from the same book provider? Can you imagine the nightmare for freedom of thought it would be if one congolmerate controlled all collection development for an entire nation? Already they claim to have almost every book you would ever want to read, yet when I searched for five books on my to be read list, only the most recently published one (this year) was held by BookSwim. (Most of the other were from 1960s to the 1980s, though one was a classic). They claim to be willing to buy any book they don’t have that you want, but I honestly am skeptical about this. Maybe I’ve received too many promises like that from cell phone providers, but I can just see the “sorry, there wouldn’t be enough demand to warrant the price” email now.
I know most users wouldn’t limit themselves to just BookSwim for getting their books. At least not right now. Yet this scenario of a Big Brother monopoly over where we can acquire our books is clearly what BookSwim wants.
“But, Amanda,” I can hear you saying, “Shouldn’t a business want to become a great succcess?” Well, yes, but they could have come up with a business model that is more supportive of the community of reading and learning. A website such as IndieBound, for instance, that makes it easy for users to find local independent bookstores.
Reading and learning isn’t just about “Oh I got this book that’s popular right now, and it came so conveniently in my mail.” Reading and learning are about the journey and the connections. When I go to my local independent bookstore and browse for something to read, I not only get a used book cheap, but I also chat with the owner and other browsers. I leave knowing that my book came from someone else in the community.
I like knowing that the books I read come from many sources. I use the local public library, borrow from friends, buy used from indie bookstores, buy new copies, receive ARCs from LibraryThing and blogs, and plan to swap via SwapTree in the near future. My knowledge-base is fluid and about a community. It isn’t one business that ships my books to me in the mail. It’s the various communities of readers that overlap and interact to make for my own unique learning experience. If a company such as BookSwim did become a monopoly, I would lose all that, and that is one of my favorite aspects of reading.
Support my work with a tip or browse my shop for curated book club guides, how to guides, cross-stitch patterns, and more!
This work by Amanda Nevius is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Opinions of a Wolf 