So that's it; that's the year in books for me. It was a good one, though I think I worried a bit more than I should have about the accomplishment of reading, rather than the enjoyment of it; I got a little wrapped up in reading as many books as possible, writing stellar reviews for all of them, and keeping careful count of how many books I read and when I read them. I blame the Amazon reviewer ratings for most of that. Or my own obsessions and competitive mania. Either way.
Best Book of the Year: There wasn't a single book that stood out above the rest, really, but I'm most glad about getting to read the Anita Blake series. So pick any book out of those.
Worst Book That I Finished: You know, thanks to Jaime and her book review books, and my own curiosity about crap piles like Venti Jesus and Stubby Amberchuk, I read a lot of bad books this year. A lot. But I'm giving the prize to Breaking Dawn and fucking Renesmee: that book wasn't just bad, it actually ruined three good books because it made the whole series bad.
Worst Book That I Didn't Finish: Probably Eldest, because the author is so clearly arrogant and condescending in the book that it isn't only unpleasant, but also offensively bad.
Book That Was the Most Fun to Make Fun of: Happy Hour of the Damned
Most Surprisingly Enjoyable Book: Either Heloise and Abelard or The BFG.
Most Inspiring Book: As a writer, Tree and Leaf. As a person, Fifty Acres and a Poodle.
Most Demoralizing Book: Twinkie Deconstructed
Book That Made Me Laugh the Most: Why We Suck
Saddest Book: Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee.
On to 2009! Woo hoo!
Book List 2008:
1. The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace 1/2/08
2. Magic Bites by Ilona Andrews 1/4/08
3. Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman 1/6/08
4. Through Wolf's Eyes by Jane Lindskold 1/12/08
5. Sandman I: Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman 1/13/08
6. You Suck by Christopher Moore 1/15/08
7. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood 1/20/08
8. Kitty Goes to Washington by Carrie Vaughn 1/21/08
9. Empire by Orson Scott Card 1/30/08
10. Hairstyles of the Damned by Joe Meno 2/1/08
11. Twilight by Stephanie Meyer 2/5/08
12. The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett 2/7/08
13. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne 2/9/08
14. Lamb by Christopher Moore 2/16/08 (?)
15. Sandman II: The Doll's House by Neil Gaiman 2/23/08 (?)
16. Hex and the City by Simon R. Green 3/2/08
17. Ricochet River by Robin Cody 3/6/08 (?)
18. Greywalker by Kat Richardson 3/11/08
19. Mimi and Toutou Go Forth by Giles Foden 3/16/08
20. New Moon by Stephanie Meyer 3/22/08
21. The Dark Tower I: The Gunslinger by Stephen King 3/24
22. The Codex Alera Book I: The Furies of Calderon by Jim Butcher 3/28
23. Twinkie, Deconstructed by Steve Ettlinger 4/2
24. Eclipse by Stephanie Meyer 4/7
25. Venti Jesus, Please by Greg Stier 4/7
26. Parrot in the Oven: Mi Vida by Victor Martinez 4/11
27. Ink Exchange by Melissa Marr 4/15
28. White Knight by Jim Butcher 4/19
29. Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson 4/23
30. The Outlaw Demon Wails by Kim Harrison 5/2
31. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey 5/10
32. The House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer 5/11
33. Resistance by Owen Sheers 5/16
34. Achilles' Choice by Larry Niven and Steven Barnes 5/17
35. The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King 5/20
36. Sunrise over Fallujah by Walter Dean Myers 5/24
37. Kitty Takes a Holiday by Carrie Vaughn 5/26
38. Heloise and Abelard: A New Biography by James Burge 6/1
39. Definitely Dead by Charlaine Harris 6/3
40. The Life and Crimes of Bernetta Wallflower by Lisa Graff 6/7
41. All Together Dead by Charlaine Harris 6/10
42. Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat 6/14
43. From Dead to Worse by Charlaine Harris 6/15
44. The Iron Ring by Lloyd Alexander 6/17
45. Goblin Quest by Jim C. Hines 6/20
46. Small Favor by Jim Butcher 6/22
47. The Wastelands by Stephen King 6/29
48. Happy Hour of the Damned by Mark Henry 7/2
49. Utopia by Thomas More 7/6
50. Guilty Pleasures by Laurell Hamilton 7/7
51. Batman: The Dark Knight Returns by Frank Miller 7/8
52. The Laughing Corpse by Laurell K. Hamilton 7/13
53. Conquistador by S.M. Stirling 7/18
54. Circus of the Damned by Laurell K. Hamilton 7/21
55. Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson 7/29
56. The Lunatic Cafe by Laurell K. Hamilton 7/30
57. His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik 7/31
58. Bloody Bones by Laurell K. Hamilton 8/1 Woo! Four in a row!
59. The Traveler by John Twelve Hawks 8/4
60. The Killing Dance by Laurell K. Hamilton 8/6
61. Goblin Hero by Jim C. Hines 8/8
62. Breaking Dawn by Stephanie Meyer 8/11
63. Burnt Offerings by Laurell K. Hamilton 8/13
64. Stubby Amberchuk and the Holy Grail by Anne Cameron 8/16
65. Blue Moon by Laurell K. Hamilton 8/18
66. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown 8/21
67. Obsidian Butterfly by Laurell K. Hamilton 8/27
68. Throne of Jade by Naomi Novik 8/29
69. Narcissus in Chains by Laurell K. Hamilton 9/2
70. The Drunkard's Walk: How Randomness Rules Our Lives by Leonard Mlodinow 9/5
71. Cerulean Sins by Laurell K. Hamilton 9/8
72. Black Powder War by Naomi Novik 9/11
73. Incubus Dreams by Laurell K. Hamilton 9/16 (?)
74. I, robot by Isaac Asimov starring Will Smith by Howard S. Smith 9/21
75. Micah by Laurell K. Hamilton 9/21
76. Tree and Leaf by J.R.R. Tolkien 9/22
77. Descartes' Bones by Russell Shorto 9/27
78. Danse Macabre by Laurell K. Hamilton 10/1
79. The Sea of Trolls by Nancy Farmer 10/6
80. The Harlequin by Laurell K. Hamilton 10/8
81. Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe 10/10
82. Eon: Dragoneye Reborn by Allison Goodman 10/12
83. Sandman III: Dream Country by Neil Gaiman 10/13
84. Fifty Acres and a Poodle by Jeanne Marie Laskas 10/16
85. Blood Noir by Laurell K. Hamilton 10/22
86. Possession by Chris Humphreys 10/25
87. Blood Bound by Patricia Briggs 10/28
88. Iron Kissed by Patricia Briggs 10/31
89. Wizard and Glass by Stephen King 11/8
90. The BFG by Roald Dahl 11/9
91. Academ's Fury by Jim Butcher 11/13
92. Fer-de-Lance by Rex Stout 11/17
93. A Kiss of Shadows by Laurell K. Hamilton 11/21
94. Walking in Circles Before Lying Down by Merrill Markoe 11/22
95. Fool's Errand by Robin Hobb 11/29
96. Will the Vampire People Please Leave the Lobby? by Allyson Beatrice 12/2
97. One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksander Solzhenitsyn 12/4
98. Dope Sick by Walter Dean Myers 12/5
99. Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris 12/9
100. A Universal History of the Destruction of Books by Fernando Baez 12/13
101. Dave Barry Is Not Making This Up by Dave Barry 12/15
102. In The Best Families by Rex Stout 12/16
103. A Caress of Twilight by Laurell K. Hamilton 12/19
104. Dog Days by John Levitt 12/23
105. King's Property by Morgan Howell 12/26
106. Why We Suck by Dr. Denis Leary 12/27
107. Goblin War by Jim C. Hines 12/30
108. The Rule of Four by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason 12/31
**Tried and Rejected:
Be Sweet: A Memoir of Conditional Love by Roy Blount, Jr.
Crossroads of Twilight (Put off temporarily)
The Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson (Put off temporarily -- twice)
The Tyranny of the Night by Glen Cook
The Man Who Ate the 747 by Ben Sherwood
Perdido Street Station by China Mieville
Shadow Play by Charles Baxter
Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart by Jane Lindskold
Eldest by Christopher Paolini
V for Vendetta: The Novelization of the Film by Steve Moore
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Book #108
The Rule of Four
by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason
I rushed this one, trying to get it in before the year was ended; I managed to read it in about 24 hours, and so here we are with the 108th and final book of 2008.
It was okay: the writing was excellent, the characters were nice, but the plot was a little bland. The setting didn't help, either, as it did not lend itself to either interesting stories or characterizations and descriptions that I could relate to -- though I'm sure Princeton alumni loved every second of it. The basic story begins with four friends, all seniors at Princeton, who are heading into their last month at the school. Charlie is moving on to become a doctor, though he hasn't picked a med school yet; Gil has no apparent plans, but also little need of them owing to his family's wealth and his own general competence and winning personality; Tom, the narrator, has to make a decision whether he wants to pursue a PhD in Literature, or take a job offer from an internet startup with more money than mission in its business model. The last of the four, Paul is still working on his senior thesis, and time is running out. But Paul's thesis is not simple: he is looking to solve a 500-year-old riddle, in the form of a mysterious and puzzling book from the 15th century.
The good part about this book was definitely in the character interactions. The authors did an excellent job of making these friends seem both realistic, and special in their abilities and their bond with each other; they also wrote an outstanding romance, between Tom and his girlfriend, Katie, who forces Tom to choose between his own share in Paul's obsession with the ancient book -- a book that Tom's own father spent his life trying to decipher, a pastime that influenced Tom in more ways than he knows -- and his ever-growing love for her. Although the romance ends well, it is not a simple, happily-ever-after story, which was both refreshing and annoying, as such endings are. The villains in this book, though they do not dominate the storyline -- the focus is as much on the friendships as anything else -- are outstanding: mysterious, vile, infuriating, and also realistic and very much complex human beings, just like the heroes.
My complaint about this book relates to the mysterious book. The mystery was not terribly interesting, nor was the solution; the Rule of Four is nothing deserving of a title reference, despite a weak attempt to make it more meaningful than it was. And while I was pleased to get the answer, it was far too obscure to have any real meaning for me personally; this is a mystery, a solution, and a set of implications that really only matter for Renaissance scholars, which I ain't. So while I liked reading about these people -- apart from the unconscious elitism, such as when the narrator castigates himself for leaving Katie in the lurch when she needs him: when she is dealing with the pressure of applying for membership in one of the exclusive Princeton dining clubs. Yeah. That's rough. -- I didn't really care for the events they were going through, which made me want the book to move on from its own plot. This is not the way a thriller should read.
All in all, I'd like to read another book by these authors, as long as it isn't set in an Ivy league school and it doesn't center around a five-hundred-year-old diary.
by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason
I rushed this one, trying to get it in before the year was ended; I managed to read it in about 24 hours, and so here we are with the 108th and final book of 2008.
It was okay: the writing was excellent, the characters were nice, but the plot was a little bland. The setting didn't help, either, as it did not lend itself to either interesting stories or characterizations and descriptions that I could relate to -- though I'm sure Princeton alumni loved every second of it. The basic story begins with four friends, all seniors at Princeton, who are heading into their last month at the school. Charlie is moving on to become a doctor, though he hasn't picked a med school yet; Gil has no apparent plans, but also little need of them owing to his family's wealth and his own general competence and winning personality; Tom, the narrator, has to make a decision whether he wants to pursue a PhD in Literature, or take a job offer from an internet startup with more money than mission in its business model. The last of the four, Paul is still working on his senior thesis, and time is running out. But Paul's thesis is not simple: he is looking to solve a 500-year-old riddle, in the form of a mysterious and puzzling book from the 15th century.
The good part about this book was definitely in the character interactions. The authors did an excellent job of making these friends seem both realistic, and special in their abilities and their bond with each other; they also wrote an outstanding romance, between Tom and his girlfriend, Katie, who forces Tom to choose between his own share in Paul's obsession with the ancient book -- a book that Tom's own father spent his life trying to decipher, a pastime that influenced Tom in more ways than he knows -- and his ever-growing love for her. Although the romance ends well, it is not a simple, happily-ever-after story, which was both refreshing and annoying, as such endings are. The villains in this book, though they do not dominate the storyline -- the focus is as much on the friendships as anything else -- are outstanding: mysterious, vile, infuriating, and also realistic and very much complex human beings, just like the heroes.
My complaint about this book relates to the mysterious book. The mystery was not terribly interesting, nor was the solution; the Rule of Four is nothing deserving of a title reference, despite a weak attempt to make it more meaningful than it was. And while I was pleased to get the answer, it was far too obscure to have any real meaning for me personally; this is a mystery, a solution, and a set of implications that really only matter for Renaissance scholars, which I ain't. So while I liked reading about these people -- apart from the unconscious elitism, such as when the narrator castigates himself for leaving Katie in the lurch when she needs him: when she is dealing with the pressure of applying for membership in one of the exclusive Princeton dining clubs. Yeah. That's rough. -- I didn't really care for the events they were going through, which made me want the book to move on from its own plot. This is not the way a thriller should read.
All in all, I'd like to read another book by these authors, as long as it isn't set in an Ivy league school and it doesn't center around a five-hundred-year-old diary.
Book #107
Goblin War
by Jim C. Hines
I made a bit of a mistake in picking this one, I think; I love the goblin books, and it seemed like the right genre choice after reading Leary's caustic non-fiction memoir/social commentary, but I wasn't really in the mood for this book right at this time. It made me shy away from reading it, so it took longer than it should have, and I didn't really pay as much attention to this one as I did to the first two.
That being said, this was a great book, especially the ending. This one wrapped up Jig's story beautifully; since most of the fantasy and paranormal series I read don't actually have an ending, getting to the finish line here was a very nice change, particularly since I liked the finish line. I liked everything leading up to it, as well, of course, just as I have with all three of Hines's books about Jig's adventures.
This one starts off with the goblins leaving the lair because their mountain, sealed off in the first book and then unsealed in the second, is under attack by humans. The goblins lose, of course, since that is what goblins do, and a few dozen are taken as slaves to work on shoring up the defenses of a nearby human town -- a town that is soon to come under assault from a massive army of monsters, everything from goblins to kobolds to orcs, led by an orc named Billa the Bloody. Jig and two of his companions escape, and go to seek out this monster who has managed to unite such disparate and troublesome races into a single group; when they find that the rumors are true, and all of these monsters are really working together to fight off the humans, Jig and his friends eagerly sign up -- at last, Jig thinks, there is a chance for the goblins to be free of the humans, to escape the neverending flow of adventurers and treasure seekers who keep troming into the lair and killing as many goblins as they can find. Maybe if Billa can win this war, all of the goblins can live in peace.
We also get to hear the backstory of Tymalous Shadowstar, Jig's patron deity; scenes from his downfall are woven into Jig's story, and make for excellent little vignettes all by themselves as well as showing more about the god of peace who became the patron of goblins. The two stories come together when it turns out that Billa the Bloody is, like Jig, the champion of one of the Forgotten Gods, but this god has different plans for the monsters, and Jig and Tymalous have to decide whether they are with Billa and her master, or against them.
As I said, it all works out in the end -- though like the previous books, because these characters are goblins and their ilk, no character is safe here; all of them are expendable, and some of them are expended. But the book was great fun to read, and I look forward to Jim Hines's next series.
by Jim C. Hines
I made a bit of a mistake in picking this one, I think; I love the goblin books, and it seemed like the right genre choice after reading Leary's caustic non-fiction memoir/social commentary, but I wasn't really in the mood for this book right at this time. It made me shy away from reading it, so it took longer than it should have, and I didn't really pay as much attention to this one as I did to the first two.
That being said, this was a great book, especially the ending. This one wrapped up Jig's story beautifully; since most of the fantasy and paranormal series I read don't actually have an ending, getting to the finish line here was a very nice change, particularly since I liked the finish line. I liked everything leading up to it, as well, of course, just as I have with all three of Hines's books about Jig's adventures.
This one starts off with the goblins leaving the lair because their mountain, sealed off in the first book and then unsealed in the second, is under attack by humans. The goblins lose, of course, since that is what goblins do, and a few dozen are taken as slaves to work on shoring up the defenses of a nearby human town -- a town that is soon to come under assault from a massive army of monsters, everything from goblins to kobolds to orcs, led by an orc named Billa the Bloody. Jig and two of his companions escape, and go to seek out this monster who has managed to unite such disparate and troublesome races into a single group; when they find that the rumors are true, and all of these monsters are really working together to fight off the humans, Jig and his friends eagerly sign up -- at last, Jig thinks, there is a chance for the goblins to be free of the humans, to escape the neverending flow of adventurers and treasure seekers who keep troming into the lair and killing as many goblins as they can find. Maybe if Billa can win this war, all of the goblins can live in peace.
We also get to hear the backstory of Tymalous Shadowstar, Jig's patron deity; scenes from his downfall are woven into Jig's story, and make for excellent little vignettes all by themselves as well as showing more about the god of peace who became the patron of goblins. The two stories come together when it turns out that Billa the Bloody is, like Jig, the champion of one of the Forgotten Gods, but this god has different plans for the monsters, and Jig and Tymalous have to decide whether they are with Billa and her master, or against them.
As I said, it all works out in the end -- though like the previous books, because these characters are goblins and their ilk, no character is safe here; all of them are expendable, and some of them are expended. But the book was great fun to read, and I look forward to Jim Hines's next series.
Book #106
Why We Suck
by Dr. Denis Leary
That's right -- Dr. Denis Leary, proud alumnus of Emerson College in Boston, has received an honorary doctorate in humanities and letters. He's a Doctor. So now you have to do what he says, just like Dr. Phil. Unlike Dr. Phil, however, Dr. Denis is hilarious, insightful, and in almost every instance, absolutely correct, if a wee bit brutal.
Because we do suck. We suck a lot, and Dr. Leary has a hundred reasons why. The most prominent are: Americans are fat, lazy, loud, and stupid, and getting worse all the time; our celebrities are all of these things and a bag of chips on the side, and our worship of them is not only inane and depressingly pathetic, but also harmful; and lastly, because we have no idea how to raise our children. Because of these things, not only has America lost its way, but the rest of the world knows it, and hates us when we stick out big stupid rhinoplastied noses into their business, and laughs at us when said foreshortened nose is crammed up our own backsides.
The book is hilarious, as all of Leary's comedy is. The nice thing about a book is he gets to go a little bit more in depth in his ranting than he does in his stand up routine, and the deeper Denis goes, the funnier he is. This book actually made me laugh out loud, something that almost never happens; even when it wasn't doing that, I was usually either giggling, chuckling, or nodding as I read.
The only place where Dr. Leary and I disagree is on gender issues. He is of the opinion that men are the grunting, meat-eating, sports-obsessed thoughtless clods that so many comics make them out to be; he does take the next step and point out that men are also strong, brave, and hardworking along with these things, which I appreciated. But Denis's experience of maleness is not mine; it might relate to the respective collar colors of our upbringings, or simply a difference in our basic structure. His understanding of what makes women tick also does not coincide with my experience of women, most particularly my wife -- but again, simply a difference in our experiences. For the men and women who parallel the roles Dr. Leary ascribes to them, he's got it down, so even if my life is different, it was still fun to read. I loved it, and I would highly recommend it.
by Dr. Denis Leary
That's right -- Dr. Denis Leary, proud alumnus of Emerson College in Boston, has received an honorary doctorate in humanities and letters. He's a Doctor. So now you have to do what he says, just like Dr. Phil. Unlike Dr. Phil, however, Dr. Denis is hilarious, insightful, and in almost every instance, absolutely correct, if a wee bit brutal.
Because we do suck. We suck a lot, and Dr. Leary has a hundred reasons why. The most prominent are: Americans are fat, lazy, loud, and stupid, and getting worse all the time; our celebrities are all of these things and a bag of chips on the side, and our worship of them is not only inane and depressingly pathetic, but also harmful; and lastly, because we have no idea how to raise our children. Because of these things, not only has America lost its way, but the rest of the world knows it, and hates us when we stick out big stupid rhinoplastied noses into their business, and laughs at us when said foreshortened nose is crammed up our own backsides.
The book is hilarious, as all of Leary's comedy is. The nice thing about a book is he gets to go a little bit more in depth in his ranting than he does in his stand up routine, and the deeper Denis goes, the funnier he is. This book actually made me laugh out loud, something that almost never happens; even when it wasn't doing that, I was usually either giggling, chuckling, or nodding as I read.
The only place where Dr. Leary and I disagree is on gender issues. He is of the opinion that men are the grunting, meat-eating, sports-obsessed thoughtless clods that so many comics make them out to be; he does take the next step and point out that men are also strong, brave, and hardworking along with these things, which I appreciated. But Denis's experience of maleness is not mine; it might relate to the respective collar colors of our upbringings, or simply a difference in our basic structure. His understanding of what makes women tick also does not coincide with my experience of women, most particularly my wife -- but again, simply a difference in our experiences. For the men and women who parallel the roles Dr. Leary ascribes to them, he's got it down, so even if my life is different, it was still fun to read. I loved it, and I would highly recommend it.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Book #105
King's Property
by Morgan Howell
I figured, what the heck, I'm only in the middle of, what, nine or ten fantasy series? Let's see, there's Jim Hines's goblin books, the Temeraire novels, the Tawny Man trilogy, the Furies of Calderon, the Mistborn series -- and of course the Wheel of Time. That't not counting the paranormal series I'm into, including both Anita Blake and Merry Gentry, plus Rachel Morgan, Harry Dresden, Sookie Stackhouse, and Kitty Norville. Yeah, one more new series can't hurt, can it?
Of course not. So I picked up the first in the Queen of the Orcs trilogy, King's Property, by Morgan Howell. I was intrigued because I'm always intrigued by attempts to tell the other side of the classic fantasy schism; I've read several attempts to depict the world of goblins and orcs over the years, and I liked the way this one pitched it: this slave girl, Dar, becomes the Queen of the Orcs. Interesting concept, and I want to know how she'll pull it off.
So far, this one is off to a great start. This first book tells the story of Dar's kidnapping and enslavement by the army of her king; it seems the king uses orcs as shock troops, and the orcs have an odd compunction: they will only allow women to serve them food, never men. This means that the army needs to find women to serve in the orc regiments, and they do what any ruthless and amoral army would do; they steal them, brand them, and use them until they are destroyed, when they go out and find new ones.
This is a pretty brutal book, especially considering it is fantasy, and I even found it shelved in the YA section -- where it probably shouldn't be. Then again, it is simple and easy to follow, and far be it from me to say which themes are too adult for young people to read about; my book does include a bit of matricide and child abuse, after all, not to mention something about murder? Anyway, Dar at first resents the orcs and hates them for being the reason for her enslavement. Soon, though, she realizes the orcs are being used up and cast away just as much as the women are; the orcs, it turns out, are not brutal and mindless savages, but simply a different race with a different culture and different values -- ones which don't often coincide with human values. And, most important to Dar, they are willing to protect her from what she fears most; Dar, having been sexually abused by her father, absolutely refuses to do what every other slave woman does, and whore herself out to a human soldier for protection. Instead, she befriends the orcs.
It's a very interesting book, though I almost wish more time had been spent with the orcs than with the humans; the humans in the book are almost universally craptacular, whereas the orcs are very cool. But the way it was done was reasonable, too, as the orcs are not fond of humans and Dar's acceptance into their midst is -- well, let's just say, "grudging." I loved the author's creation of the orcs' culture, and I really liked how Dar learned about it and explored it -- very realistic and interesting. I even liked the language, and I, like most lifetime fantasy fans, am hard to please. But this one was nicely done, and also felt very orcy.
I enjoyed the book, and I'll finish the trilogy. Once I get through all the other series, that is.
by Morgan Howell
I figured, what the heck, I'm only in the middle of, what, nine or ten fantasy series? Let's see, there's Jim Hines's goblin books, the Temeraire novels, the Tawny Man trilogy, the Furies of Calderon, the Mistborn series -- and of course the Wheel of Time. That't not counting the paranormal series I'm into, including both Anita Blake and Merry Gentry, plus Rachel Morgan, Harry Dresden, Sookie Stackhouse, and Kitty Norville. Yeah, one more new series can't hurt, can it?
Of course not. So I picked up the first in the Queen of the Orcs trilogy, King's Property, by Morgan Howell. I was intrigued because I'm always intrigued by attempts to tell the other side of the classic fantasy schism; I've read several attempts to depict the world of goblins and orcs over the years, and I liked the way this one pitched it: this slave girl, Dar, becomes the Queen of the Orcs. Interesting concept, and I want to know how she'll pull it off.
So far, this one is off to a great start. This first book tells the story of Dar's kidnapping and enslavement by the army of her king; it seems the king uses orcs as shock troops, and the orcs have an odd compunction: they will only allow women to serve them food, never men. This means that the army needs to find women to serve in the orc regiments, and they do what any ruthless and amoral army would do; they steal them, brand them, and use them until they are destroyed, when they go out and find new ones.
This is a pretty brutal book, especially considering it is fantasy, and I even found it shelved in the YA section -- where it probably shouldn't be. Then again, it is simple and easy to follow, and far be it from me to say which themes are too adult for young people to read about; my book does include a bit of matricide and child abuse, after all, not to mention something about murder? Anyway, Dar at first resents the orcs and hates them for being the reason for her enslavement. Soon, though, she realizes the orcs are being used up and cast away just as much as the women are; the orcs, it turns out, are not brutal and mindless savages, but simply a different race with a different culture and different values -- ones which don't often coincide with human values. And, most important to Dar, they are willing to protect her from what she fears most; Dar, having been sexually abused by her father, absolutely refuses to do what every other slave woman does, and whore herself out to a human soldier for protection. Instead, she befriends the orcs.
It's a very interesting book, though I almost wish more time had been spent with the orcs than with the humans; the humans in the book are almost universally craptacular, whereas the orcs are very cool. But the way it was done was reasonable, too, as the orcs are not fond of humans and Dar's acceptance into their midst is -- well, let's just say, "grudging." I loved the author's creation of the orcs' culture, and I really liked how Dar learned about it and explored it -- very realistic and interesting. I even liked the language, and I, like most lifetime fantasy fans, am hard to please. But this one was nicely done, and also felt very orcy.
I enjoyed the book, and I'll finish the trilogy. Once I get through all the other series, that is.
Book #104
Dog Days
by John Levitt
Since this is a milestone book -- the ones that marks two books a week for the year -- I wanted it to be the Emerson collection I started and didn't finish, so I got back into that. Unfortunately for my geekery, I still can't read Emerson for more than half an hour or so without my brain getting twisted into a nice pretzel shape. Though I liked what I read this time as much as the other three times I've tried to finish that book; I read four more essays, including really great ones on art and being a poet, and once I wait a month or so -- not eight months like this last hiatus between essays -- I should be able to finish the book. However, I have also realized that a single reading is not going to enable me to really grasp these things, and so I plan to read them again, a second time, and maybe again after that -- though I may look for some of his other writings after the second time through. I did read a very nice thing in the introduction to this collection, when the scholar introducing Emerson said that he doesn't try to study his work, just enjoy it, and also that Emerson's essays are not logical step-by-step constructions of arguments, but more explorations of themes, and as such are not really meant to be grasped as a single totality. Emerson is best at the level of the sentence, he said, and that's what I've found to be true. I loved some of the sentences I found this time through, and I look forward to reading them again after I have a basic initial grasp of his topic.
But after three or four days of slogging through that -- while we were snowed in and school was being cancelled prior to Christmas Break -- I gave it up and went for something nice and light, and stopped worrying about which book appears where in this list, which is a stupid consideration in the first place. So I read Dog Days, by John Levitt.
It's a good story, nicely written without being overly complex. The main character is a part-time musician and part-time magician, and too unambitious (okay, lazy) to really focus on either one and make it work. Much is made in this book of his undeveloped potential, and in some ways, I can relate to that. My own laziness and lack of focused ambition has held me back in both my writing career and my teaching, erm, career -- inasmuch as I would be better at either if I could focus on one. Not that I would ever focus on teaching, or that my unrealized potential means a whole lot to me; I'd be an excellent janitor if I focused on that, too, along with probably a hundred other jobs. But Mason, the narrator of this book, is only bothered when it is pointed out to him that he could be, but is not, a truly great jazz guitarist; I feel that way about my writing, sometimes. But then again, my real ambition is for a happy life, and today, on Boxing Day, when I'm about to start reading my new Denis Leary book after playing my new God of War video game, I have no complaints and no regrets.
Mason's closest companion in his relaxed, unmotivated life is his "dog," Louie, who is actually an Ifrit -- a semi-magical creature who will choose a practitioner of magic for a companion and stick with them, usually for life. Nobody knows why Ifrits choose the ones they do, or where they come from, or even what they really are; Louie is basically a dog, but also much more. Louie is extremely well-written, and is a very sweet and interesting character. The way the plot ties into the Ifrits was excellent, and it made the bad guy really a bad guy.
Other strengths of this book were the magic, which is very nicely imagined but could be explained more, and the magical action scenes, which were brilliant. Mason is attacked repeatedly in this book, and it isn't clear why until the end; what is clear is that the person attacking him is both powerful and clever, using mundane and magical distractions to great advantage, as well as having good ideas for ways to get rid of Mason. It is also clear that Mason's greatest strength, his ability to improvise -- and it's a clever strength, nicely done, and the tie to his jazz is very cool -- is what saves his butt from these attacks, along with Louie. I really liked the way Mason's creativity was compared to the strengths of other practitioners, to Eli's education and brilliance, to Victor's raw power and mastery, to Sherwood's subtlety and empathy, to Campbell's specific talent, which sort of is magic and sort of isn't -- and that's a realm that has never been explored enough, and really should be. But I would like to know more about the basic theory of magic here: what is it? Where does it come from? Why do these people have it, and not others? How can Mason "pull" the aspects of his surroundings into his spells? Why isn't he more powerful, and why is Victor? How is it that words are nothing more than rhythm to Mason, but they are the main aspect of the summoning for Harry Keller, and others?
So in the next book, which we just bought but haven't read yet, I want to hear more about how magic works, and Mason's place in the magical world -- why he is the way he is, and what exactly he's going to become. At least some hints about that. I'd also like to meet a female character who doesn't have a masculine sounding last name for a first name, though that's less important, I admit.
by John Levitt
Since this is a milestone book -- the ones that marks two books a week for the year -- I wanted it to be the Emerson collection I started and didn't finish, so I got back into that. Unfortunately for my geekery, I still can't read Emerson for more than half an hour or so without my brain getting twisted into a nice pretzel shape. Though I liked what I read this time as much as the other three times I've tried to finish that book; I read four more essays, including really great ones on art and being a poet, and once I wait a month or so -- not eight months like this last hiatus between essays -- I should be able to finish the book. However, I have also realized that a single reading is not going to enable me to really grasp these things, and so I plan to read them again, a second time, and maybe again after that -- though I may look for some of his other writings after the second time through. I did read a very nice thing in the introduction to this collection, when the scholar introducing Emerson said that he doesn't try to study his work, just enjoy it, and also that Emerson's essays are not logical step-by-step constructions of arguments, but more explorations of themes, and as such are not really meant to be grasped as a single totality. Emerson is best at the level of the sentence, he said, and that's what I've found to be true. I loved some of the sentences I found this time through, and I look forward to reading them again after I have a basic initial grasp of his topic.
But after three or four days of slogging through that -- while we were snowed in and school was being cancelled prior to Christmas Break -- I gave it up and went for something nice and light, and stopped worrying about which book appears where in this list, which is a stupid consideration in the first place. So I read Dog Days, by John Levitt.
It's a good story, nicely written without being overly complex. The main character is a part-time musician and part-time magician, and too unambitious (okay, lazy) to really focus on either one and make it work. Much is made in this book of his undeveloped potential, and in some ways, I can relate to that. My own laziness and lack of focused ambition has held me back in both my writing career and my teaching, erm, career -- inasmuch as I would be better at either if I could focus on one. Not that I would ever focus on teaching, or that my unrealized potential means a whole lot to me; I'd be an excellent janitor if I focused on that, too, along with probably a hundred other jobs. But Mason, the narrator of this book, is only bothered when it is pointed out to him that he could be, but is not, a truly great jazz guitarist; I feel that way about my writing, sometimes. But then again, my real ambition is for a happy life, and today, on Boxing Day, when I'm about to start reading my new Denis Leary book after playing my new God of War video game, I have no complaints and no regrets.
Mason's closest companion in his relaxed, unmotivated life is his "dog," Louie, who is actually an Ifrit -- a semi-magical creature who will choose a practitioner of magic for a companion and stick with them, usually for life. Nobody knows why Ifrits choose the ones they do, or where they come from, or even what they really are; Louie is basically a dog, but also much more. Louie is extremely well-written, and is a very sweet and interesting character. The way the plot ties into the Ifrits was excellent, and it made the bad guy really a bad guy.
Other strengths of this book were the magic, which is very nicely imagined but could be explained more, and the magical action scenes, which were brilliant. Mason is attacked repeatedly in this book, and it isn't clear why until the end; what is clear is that the person attacking him is both powerful and clever, using mundane and magical distractions to great advantage, as well as having good ideas for ways to get rid of Mason. It is also clear that Mason's greatest strength, his ability to improvise -- and it's a clever strength, nicely done, and the tie to his jazz is very cool -- is what saves his butt from these attacks, along with Louie. I really liked the way Mason's creativity was compared to the strengths of other practitioners, to Eli's education and brilliance, to Victor's raw power and mastery, to Sherwood's subtlety and empathy, to Campbell's specific talent, which sort of is magic and sort of isn't -- and that's a realm that has never been explored enough, and really should be. But I would like to know more about the basic theory of magic here: what is it? Where does it come from? Why do these people have it, and not others? How can Mason "pull" the aspects of his surroundings into his spells? Why isn't he more powerful, and why is Victor? How is it that words are nothing more than rhythm to Mason, but they are the main aspect of the summoning for Harry Keller, and others?
So in the next book, which we just bought but haven't read yet, I want to hear more about how magic works, and Mason's place in the magical world -- why he is the way he is, and what exactly he's going to become. At least some hints about that. I'd also like to meet a female character who doesn't have a masculine sounding last name for a first name, though that's less important, I admit.
Book #103
A Caress of Twilight
by Laurell K. Hamilton
So far, I have been less impressed with the Meredith Gentry series, as compared to the Anita Blake series. Not particularly because the Merry books are bad, because they're not -- I just think the Anita books are excellent, and the bar was set a leetle too high for these books in my mind.
This second installment picks up where the first left off: Meredith is living in LA, still working for the detective agency, and surrounded by the Queen's Guards, who are her lovers as she tries to win the Great Pregnancy Race. This time the case revolves around a Fae of the Seelie court, the pretty ones, who was exiled long ago; this Seelie moved into the human world and became an actress, an immortal and inhumanly beautiful ingenue. Makes sense. And now she needs Merry's help, because Merry is a member of the Fae courts, just as the actress, Maeve Reed, was.
This is the first problem. The detective agency thing is stupid. Private detectives have always struck me as a weak version of the police, when it comes to mystery and crime fiction; it is more reasonable for the police to be handling the juicy cases, but if you write about a cop, you have a very specific set of rules to follow, and a whole culture to deal with; making your character a PI frees you from that rigid structure, but it means you need to dream up some way that your guy can handle the big cases instead of the police. Sometimes it's well done: I think Sue Grafton has made a good setup with her detective in the alphabet books -- A Is for Alibi, and so on -- and Dennis Lehane did well with his pair of Boston detectives whose names I can't remember. But otherwise, it feels lame to me. Since Anita works with the actual police, and Hamilton writes that well, anything that Merry does as an investigator seems weak by comparison. In the first book, her "undercover" assignment seemed very rushed and contrived, and in this one, the case does not involve any detecting whatsoever. That's fine, I prefer that the complications in these books arise as this one did, but it would be so much more interesting to me if Merry worked for, oh I don't know, an ad agency. Or maybe dealt blackjack. Or did social work or something. So many good possibilities, and I don't like this choice. I really didn't like it when Merry was called out to consult on a mysterious death scene, as it felt far too derivative of the other series, and that was a mistake. Though the detail of the lipstick was brilliant; I wonder if they actually have that color.
But anyhoo, the story with Maeve is reasonably interesting; another take on immortality and one of its greatest flaws -- the fact that you have to watch mortals grow old and die while you stay young and perfect. It complicated the issue of Merry's pregnancy, which hasn't arrived yet, and which I hope has a reasonable explanation; personally, I think it would be interesting to have her get pregnant and become queen, and see what she does with the job, rather than have the race to conceive stretch out for nine or ten books. Just an opinion.
The interactions between Merry and her guards were good; I like that Merry's taking charge and becoming a leader, and I really appreciated that Hamilton ended the sexual tension subplots, both of them: Galen was healed, and Doyle finally gave in to his desires. Those were fine scenes; I like the way Hamilton is writing the sexual parts of these books, a little better even than the Blake series.
The climactic fight scene was very cool; the monster was excellent, both in conception and in description, and I like the aftermath of its defeat. But I hated the last few pages of the book, when Hamilton ran the wrap-up she usually does at the end of the Anita Blake books, where she pulls back and has Anita or Merry summarize how the events of the book affect her over the next several days, weeks, or months. I hated this one because the wrap-up came too soon and was too long; as the fight with the Nameless was still winding down, suddenly Merry is talking about the next several months and how they're going to go, and how everything is working out with the guards and with Kitto. I wanted more of the straight story before we got the conclusion. I also don't really care for Kitto's character, though I think the goblins are an excellent subplot. But I do want to read on, and I am growing fond of the characters, expecially Rhys, who got a whole heck of a lot more interesting in this book. And the most important part is these books do play to Hamilton's strengths: she is an excellent world-builder, and a great writer of horribly nasty crazy bad guys. Welcome to the Unseelie Court.
by Laurell K. Hamilton
So far, I have been less impressed with the Meredith Gentry series, as compared to the Anita Blake series. Not particularly because the Merry books are bad, because they're not -- I just think the Anita books are excellent, and the bar was set a leetle too high for these books in my mind.
This second installment picks up where the first left off: Meredith is living in LA, still working for the detective agency, and surrounded by the Queen's Guards, who are her lovers as she tries to win the Great Pregnancy Race. This time the case revolves around a Fae of the Seelie court, the pretty ones, who was exiled long ago; this Seelie moved into the human world and became an actress, an immortal and inhumanly beautiful ingenue. Makes sense. And now she needs Merry's help, because Merry is a member of the Fae courts, just as the actress, Maeve Reed, was.
This is the first problem. The detective agency thing is stupid. Private detectives have always struck me as a weak version of the police, when it comes to mystery and crime fiction; it is more reasonable for the police to be handling the juicy cases, but if you write about a cop, you have a very specific set of rules to follow, and a whole culture to deal with; making your character a PI frees you from that rigid structure, but it means you need to dream up some way that your guy can handle the big cases instead of the police. Sometimes it's well done: I think Sue Grafton has made a good setup with her detective in the alphabet books -- A Is for Alibi, and so on -- and Dennis Lehane did well with his pair of Boston detectives whose names I can't remember. But otherwise, it feels lame to me. Since Anita works with the actual police, and Hamilton writes that well, anything that Merry does as an investigator seems weak by comparison. In the first book, her "undercover" assignment seemed very rushed and contrived, and in this one, the case does not involve any detecting whatsoever. That's fine, I prefer that the complications in these books arise as this one did, but it would be so much more interesting to me if Merry worked for, oh I don't know, an ad agency. Or maybe dealt blackjack. Or did social work or something. So many good possibilities, and I don't like this choice. I really didn't like it when Merry was called out to consult on a mysterious death scene, as it felt far too derivative of the other series, and that was a mistake. Though the detail of the lipstick was brilliant; I wonder if they actually have that color.
But anyhoo, the story with Maeve is reasonably interesting; another take on immortality and one of its greatest flaws -- the fact that you have to watch mortals grow old and die while you stay young and perfect. It complicated the issue of Merry's pregnancy, which hasn't arrived yet, and which I hope has a reasonable explanation; personally, I think it would be interesting to have her get pregnant and become queen, and see what she does with the job, rather than have the race to conceive stretch out for nine or ten books. Just an opinion.
The interactions between Merry and her guards were good; I like that Merry's taking charge and becoming a leader, and I really appreciated that Hamilton ended the sexual tension subplots, both of them: Galen was healed, and Doyle finally gave in to his desires. Those were fine scenes; I like the way Hamilton is writing the sexual parts of these books, a little better even than the Blake series.
The climactic fight scene was very cool; the monster was excellent, both in conception and in description, and I like the aftermath of its defeat. But I hated the last few pages of the book, when Hamilton ran the wrap-up she usually does at the end of the Anita Blake books, where she pulls back and has Anita or Merry summarize how the events of the book affect her over the next several days, weeks, or months. I hated this one because the wrap-up came too soon and was too long; as the fight with the Nameless was still winding down, suddenly Merry is talking about the next several months and how they're going to go, and how everything is working out with the guards and with Kitto. I wanted more of the straight story before we got the conclusion. I also don't really care for Kitto's character, though I think the goblins are an excellent subplot. But I do want to read on, and I am growing fond of the characters, expecially Rhys, who got a whole heck of a lot more interesting in this book. And the most important part is these books do play to Hamilton's strengths: she is an excellent world-builder, and a great writer of horribly nasty crazy bad guys. Welcome to the Unseelie Court.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Book #102
In the Best Families
by Rex Stout
I liked this one far, far better than the first Nero Wolfe book; I realized with this one that these books are not mysteries so much as legal thrillers of a kind. You're not really expected to work out the murder, though if ever you happen to know what happened before Wolfe reveals it in the last five pages, you should be proud of yourself; most of the book is taken up with the search for evidence, for proof, and, of course, in the description of the day-to-day life of the main characters. This one broke the mold a bit because the household is broken up by circumstances, so I'm still not sure if I'll like the majority of the books when so much of them will be spent watching Archie fume as Wolfe goes off to the plant rooms, or watching Wolfe fume when a client has to come over, but I think I'm willing to keep going through the series, at least one last time. I did enjoy this one quite a lot -- Archie got me to laugh out loud at least once, and smile half a dozen times. Not too bad, really.
by Rex Stout
I liked this one far, far better than the first Nero Wolfe book; I realized with this one that these books are not mysteries so much as legal thrillers of a kind. You're not really expected to work out the murder, though if ever you happen to know what happened before Wolfe reveals it in the last five pages, you should be proud of yourself; most of the book is taken up with the search for evidence, for proof, and, of course, in the description of the day-to-day life of the main characters. This one broke the mold a bit because the household is broken up by circumstances, so I'm still not sure if I'll like the majority of the books when so much of them will be spent watching Archie fume as Wolfe goes off to the plant rooms, or watching Wolfe fume when a client has to come over, but I think I'm willing to keep going through the series, at least one last time. I did enjoy this one quite a lot -- Archie got me to laugh out loud at least once, and smile half a dozen times. Not too bad, really.
Book #101
Dave Barry is Not Making This Up by -- guess.
A collection of Dave Barry's columns, both hilarious and very well-written, and I'm going to buy more of his books. Hah, see? I can be brief and to the point. My favorite was the one on censorship, which he fought by writing about circumcision. Hilarious, and also strong and noble. Which is even funnier, considering the subject. My respect for Dave Barry -- already high thanks to his columns and especially thanks to his propagation of Talk Like a Pirate Day -- just went up.
A collection of Dave Barry's columns, both hilarious and very well-written, and I'm going to buy more of his books. Hah, see? I can be brief and to the point. My favorite was the one on censorship, which he fought by writing about circumcision. Hilarious, and also strong and noble. Which is even funnier, considering the subject. My respect for Dave Barry -- already high thanks to his columns and especially thanks to his propagation of Talk Like a Pirate Day -- just went up.
Century!
A Universal History of the Destruction of Books
by Fernando Baez
I'm very happy that this one became the 100th book on my list for this year, but I'm not too happy that I read it. It was, as it says, a history of the destruction of books, from the burning of the Library of Alexandria and the flooding of ancient Sumerian temples full of clay tablets, to the recent looting and burning of the national archives in Iraq, performed by angry Iraqis as American soldiers looked on and did nothing. It was not, however, insightful or interesting -- more of a simple list of bibliocausts, as the author terms them. It was depressing, sure, and it told me something of the respective scales of assaults on knowledge, but it didn't really tell me anything new other than several facts. And I know enough of those. Lots of people have burned lots of books, generally because they were trying to wipe out an idea, or a cultural heritage. But beneath this mask is an idea, and ideas, Mr. Creevy, are bulletproof.
by Fernando Baez
I'm very happy that this one became the 100th book on my list for this year, but I'm not too happy that I read it. It was, as it says, a history of the destruction of books, from the burning of the Library of Alexandria and the flooding of ancient Sumerian temples full of clay tablets, to the recent looting and burning of the national archives in Iraq, performed by angry Iraqis as American soldiers looked on and did nothing. It was not, however, insightful or interesting -- more of a simple list of bibliocausts, as the author terms them. It was depressing, sure, and it told me something of the respective scales of assaults on knowledge, but it didn't really tell me anything new other than several facts. And I know enough of those. Lots of people have burned lots of books, generally because they were trying to wipe out an idea, or a cultural heritage. But beneath this mask is an idea, and ideas, Mr. Creevy, are bulletproof.
Book #99
Then We Came to the End
by Joshua Ferris
Found this one at the Safeway book sale; the cover claims it is both hilarious and moving, brilliant and contemporary. I guess it is.
The book is set in an advertising firm in Chicago right around 2000-2001, and it starts off funny enough; the employees of the firm spend all of their time gossiping and talking about everything imaginable, and there are some excellent wacky moments -- good e-mails, good eccentricities, a fantastic story about stolen office chairs. The most interesting thing about the book from a writer's standpoint was the choice of narrator: it is in the first person plural throughout, except for one interlude in the middle when it goes to third person, but there is never a singular voice; the narrator is the group of office workers, whenever they gather, and it was interesting to hear the "we" talk about the different people who made up the "we" as separate entities -- all of them, at different times. I've never read a book that did that before, and it was well done and intriguing -- quite thought-provoking.
The story was less interesting to me. After the wackiness settles down, overwhelmed by the rather grim circumstances the characters find themselves in -- the firm is downsizing in the face of the growing recession after the dot-com bubble burst, and one by one, the employees are being laid off, or, as the author put it in my favorite single line from this book, they are each being "walked Spanish" down the hall, a pirate reference and an utterly beautiful phrase -- the book becomes, well, depressing. The central interlude is about a woman in serious denial about being diagnosed with breast cancer, and it is brutal; going back from that to the post-wacky office workers was a bit of a let down as they and their lives became unbearably shallow. They stayed that way until the end, when a last piece of particularly insane wackiness pushed the whole thing over the cliff, in my opinion. It was too ridiculous, too extreme, to be funny, and because it was, it made all the opening parts unfunny, as well, as they are just as sad and just as maddening, simply to a lesser extent.
I suppose, in retrospect, that that was the point; the characters are redeemed or not at the end by their respective ability to move on from the gossiping chattering group of nabobs that they were at the beginning. I suppose the problem is that I just didn't think about this book enough -- I should have pondered the characters' growth, and looked back at the beginning through the lens of the end.
But really -- who wants to work that hard on a casual reading book?
by Joshua Ferris
Found this one at the Safeway book sale; the cover claims it is both hilarious and moving, brilliant and contemporary. I guess it is.
The book is set in an advertising firm in Chicago right around 2000-2001, and it starts off funny enough; the employees of the firm spend all of their time gossiping and talking about everything imaginable, and there are some excellent wacky moments -- good e-mails, good eccentricities, a fantastic story about stolen office chairs. The most interesting thing about the book from a writer's standpoint was the choice of narrator: it is in the first person plural throughout, except for one interlude in the middle when it goes to third person, but there is never a singular voice; the narrator is the group of office workers, whenever they gather, and it was interesting to hear the "we" talk about the different people who made up the "we" as separate entities -- all of them, at different times. I've never read a book that did that before, and it was well done and intriguing -- quite thought-provoking.
The story was less interesting to me. After the wackiness settles down, overwhelmed by the rather grim circumstances the characters find themselves in -- the firm is downsizing in the face of the growing recession after the dot-com bubble burst, and one by one, the employees are being laid off, or, as the author put it in my favorite single line from this book, they are each being "walked Spanish" down the hall, a pirate reference and an utterly beautiful phrase -- the book becomes, well, depressing. The central interlude is about a woman in serious denial about being diagnosed with breast cancer, and it is brutal; going back from that to the post-wacky office workers was a bit of a let down as they and their lives became unbearably shallow. They stayed that way until the end, when a last piece of particularly insane wackiness pushed the whole thing over the cliff, in my opinion. It was too ridiculous, too extreme, to be funny, and because it was, it made all the opening parts unfunny, as well, as they are just as sad and just as maddening, simply to a lesser extent.
I suppose, in retrospect, that that was the point; the characters are redeemed or not at the end by their respective ability to move on from the gossiping chattering group of nabobs that they were at the beginning. I suppose the problem is that I just didn't think about this book enough -- I should have pondered the characters' growth, and looked back at the beginning through the lens of the end.
But really -- who wants to work that hard on a casual reading book?
Book #98
Dope Sick
by Walter Dean Myers
This is my second Walter Dean Myers book; the first one, Sunrise Over Fallujah, was not a book I enjoyed, and it made me question, a little bit, whether this author should have gotten all the accolades he has received over his writing career or if he, like many authors I don't like but the critics do, has managed to write popular fiction but not good fiction. But now that I have read Dope Sick, I can see that I was wrong to doubt Mr. Myers's writing ability or whether he deserves his awards; he is an excellent writer, and he does. I may even owe him an apology, though it feels arrogant to think Mr. Myers cares one whit what I think. But I will tender the apology anyway. On the other hand, my opinion of Sunrise was also confirmed: that book was a clunker, even if it came from a good author.
This was a good book: it was perfect for its audience, well-written, intriguing and thought-provoking without being too preachy or overly complex. It had a science fiction flair in a realistic story, and I love when authors do that well. One of my largest complaints about Sunrise was that the characters and the dialogue seemed contrived and false; this book does just the opposite. The main character, Lil J, was perfectly rendered, and the narration in his voice seemed spot on to me, though I admit some ignorance as to popular street slang of today -- I live in a small town in Oregon, which is not exactly the 'hood. I know that it sounded genuine, and I think it would seem the same to young men who read the book, so I will be recommending this book to them.
The story was interesting, though I know the ending will not satisfy many readers -- the lady or the tiger? I thought it was great, as the book's theme is about how hard it is to pinpoint the moment when things start to go wrong in one's life. The story picks up as Lil J is running from the police, having been involved in a drug deal that went bad and ended up with the shooting of an undercover cop; J (whose full name is Jeremy Dance, and after reading a book by an author who can't think up good character names [Robin Hobb], that name almost gave me goosebumps, it was so good) runs into a building that seems abandoned but isn't. On an upper story, J finds a mysterious figure named Kelly, watching TV. This TV can show J's life, past, present, and possible future, and Kelly shows J exactly where he is headed and what awaits him there -- and J doesn't like what he sees.
The rest of the book is a series of flashbacks, laced into J's conversation with Kelly, which (very nicely) never loses sight of J's current situation and its seriousness, as the police are searching for J and he is already being tried and convicted by the popular media. Through the flashbacks, we see what has happened to J to make him the way he is, as Kelly keeps asking him what he would like to change about his life, what single event or single day he would like to change in order to get out of the situation he finds himself in now. And several possibilities occur to J, and are described as he and Kelly watch them on the strange TV; most of them seem reasonable choices for the turning point, the watershed moment when everything started to go wrong, and the overall impression is sadness, because a lot in this young man's life has gone wrong. But the climax of the book comes, I think, when J tells Kelly, "Everything that's me ain't all my fault," and Kelly responds, "That's the deal. You got to find a way to make your life all your fault." That, I thought, was a brilliant line, and a brilliant message very well realized in this book.
by Walter Dean Myers
This is my second Walter Dean Myers book; the first one, Sunrise Over Fallujah, was not a book I enjoyed, and it made me question, a little bit, whether this author should have gotten all the accolades he has received over his writing career or if he, like many authors I don't like but the critics do, has managed to write popular fiction but not good fiction. But now that I have read Dope Sick, I can see that I was wrong to doubt Mr. Myers's writing ability or whether he deserves his awards; he is an excellent writer, and he does. I may even owe him an apology, though it feels arrogant to think Mr. Myers cares one whit what I think. But I will tender the apology anyway. On the other hand, my opinion of Sunrise was also confirmed: that book was a clunker, even if it came from a good author.
This was a good book: it was perfect for its audience, well-written, intriguing and thought-provoking without being too preachy or overly complex. It had a science fiction flair in a realistic story, and I love when authors do that well. One of my largest complaints about Sunrise was that the characters and the dialogue seemed contrived and false; this book does just the opposite. The main character, Lil J, was perfectly rendered, and the narration in his voice seemed spot on to me, though I admit some ignorance as to popular street slang of today -- I live in a small town in Oregon, which is not exactly the 'hood. I know that it sounded genuine, and I think it would seem the same to young men who read the book, so I will be recommending this book to them.
The story was interesting, though I know the ending will not satisfy many readers -- the lady or the tiger? I thought it was great, as the book's theme is about how hard it is to pinpoint the moment when things start to go wrong in one's life. The story picks up as Lil J is running from the police, having been involved in a drug deal that went bad and ended up with the shooting of an undercover cop; J (whose full name is Jeremy Dance, and after reading a book by an author who can't think up good character names [Robin Hobb], that name almost gave me goosebumps, it was so good) runs into a building that seems abandoned but isn't. On an upper story, J finds a mysterious figure named Kelly, watching TV. This TV can show J's life, past, present, and possible future, and Kelly shows J exactly where he is headed and what awaits him there -- and J doesn't like what he sees.
The rest of the book is a series of flashbacks, laced into J's conversation with Kelly, which (very nicely) never loses sight of J's current situation and its seriousness, as the police are searching for J and he is already being tried and convicted by the popular media. Through the flashbacks, we see what has happened to J to make him the way he is, as Kelly keeps asking him what he would like to change about his life, what single event or single day he would like to change in order to get out of the situation he finds himself in now. And several possibilities occur to J, and are described as he and Kelly watch them on the strange TV; most of them seem reasonable choices for the turning point, the watershed moment when everything started to go wrong, and the overall impression is sadness, because a lot in this young man's life has gone wrong. But the climax of the book comes, I think, when J tells Kelly, "Everything that's me ain't all my fault," and Kelly responds, "That's the deal. You got to find a way to make your life all your fault." That, I thought, was a brilliant line, and a brilliant message very well realized in this book.
Book #97
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich
by Aleksander Solzhenitsyn
Yup, read this one for school. Amazing description, great little jabs at Communism and Stalin and censorship, and I will be using it for my students. But the main impression of the whole thing was a single thought: Well, I may be annoyed by my job or the weather or what have you -- but at least I'm not in a Soviet work camp. I thought that a lot. It's a good thought.
by Aleksander Solzhenitsyn
Yup, read this one for school. Amazing description, great little jabs at Communism and Stalin and censorship, and I will be using it for my students. But the main impression of the whole thing was a single thought: Well, I may be annoyed by my job or the weather or what have you -- but at least I'm not in a Soviet work camp. I thought that a lot. It's a good thought.
Book #96
Will the Vampire People Please Leave the Lobby? True Adventures in Cult Fandom
by Allyson Beatrice
I read this book, after Toni's tepid recommendation, as a light-hearted switch from the heaviness of Robin Hobb, and in that respect, it worked fine. Sadly, Toni's lukewarm reaction was entirely accurate: this is, at best, a mediocre book by a mediocre writer. But at least she has a five-star ego.
The book is supposedly about being a fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which I am, and being overinvolved in online forums, which I am as well. But it isn't. It is about how cool it is to be part of the in crowd, and how self-righteous it can make you after a lifetime of being ostracized by the cool folks. The title was chosen because it was a comment made by an exasperated hotel clerk who was annoyed by the internet Buffy fans who were hanging out in the hotel lobby and talking and laughing and making a loud nuisance of themselves; they loved being referred to as the vampire people, especially being seen as troublemakers, because it gives them some validation as well as some cool kid street cred, so to speak. The author herself tries very hard to give herself more street cred; she goes on at length about her persona in online forums: she is the bitchy one who has to get into arguments with every troll and every dismissive or angry or irritated person who ruins the sweet loving conversations between all these wonderful friends. She says that everyone who knows her online knows her to be reliable and trustworthy and brutally honest; this is the persona she has tried very hard to create for herself, and it is one she tries hard to re-create in these "essays," as she refers to the rambling, often pointless chapters in this rambling, often pointless book.
The truth is, the author's persona, like most online personas (including my own) is contrived. She dismisses the claims that the Internet creates shallow, superficial human connections which are then used as a lesser surrogate for actual human contact by introverted and socially inept people; she uses herself as an example, describing the wonderful relationships she has with the people she has met online. And while I have no doubt that the friendships she has made which are depicted in the book are true and lasting, there is another side to this: her connections to the celebrities of Buffy the Vampire Slayer -- mostly the writers, as these are the people who interact most with the internet fans -- are tenuous at best, and yet she namedrops constantly, describing in detail all of the ways she has "worked" together with them to accomplish great things. Yet Joss Whedon doesn't know her name, a circumstance that understandably annoys her to no end (I was reminded of Homer Simpson's problem with C.M. Burns), but one that is never explored as the indicator it is. There is a chapter dedicated to a member of a forum who made up complex and poignant stories about her life, a sort of e-Munchausen's Syndrome, and how the fans (led by the intrepid and tenacious Allyson Beatrice, of course) investigated and confronted her with the truth, and yet this is dismissed as a fluke, an unusual event, when it is not: the Internet is filled with exaggerated and invented claims, and the most suspect people are those who are proudest of their reputations as honest and upfront people. Like the author.
However: the book was worth reading, despite its lack of a clear premise beyond the author's aggrandizement, for one simple reason: it named for me Imposter's Syndrome. This is the name for the fear that any day now, people will recognize you for the fraud that you are, and strip away all of your accomplishments and rewards, none of which you earned with anything but trickery and blind, dumb luck. I share this fear, and the chapter describing it was the high point of the book -- though I also enjoyed the story of Thanksgiving with a group of forum friends renting a house together on Catalina Island and sitting around on wireless laptops all day; as another introvert who uses the internet as a way to connect to people without actually having to meet them face to face (A character flaw that I, at least, am honest about), I thought that sounded great. The rest of the book, I could have done without.
by Allyson Beatrice
I read this book, after Toni's tepid recommendation, as a light-hearted switch from the heaviness of Robin Hobb, and in that respect, it worked fine. Sadly, Toni's lukewarm reaction was entirely accurate: this is, at best, a mediocre book by a mediocre writer. But at least she has a five-star ego.
The book is supposedly about being a fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which I am, and being overinvolved in online forums, which I am as well. But it isn't. It is about how cool it is to be part of the in crowd, and how self-righteous it can make you after a lifetime of being ostracized by the cool folks. The title was chosen because it was a comment made by an exasperated hotel clerk who was annoyed by the internet Buffy fans who were hanging out in the hotel lobby and talking and laughing and making a loud nuisance of themselves; they loved being referred to as the vampire people, especially being seen as troublemakers, because it gives them some validation as well as some cool kid street cred, so to speak. The author herself tries very hard to give herself more street cred; she goes on at length about her persona in online forums: she is the bitchy one who has to get into arguments with every troll and every dismissive or angry or irritated person who ruins the sweet loving conversations between all these wonderful friends. She says that everyone who knows her online knows her to be reliable and trustworthy and brutally honest; this is the persona she has tried very hard to create for herself, and it is one she tries hard to re-create in these "essays," as she refers to the rambling, often pointless chapters in this rambling, often pointless book.
The truth is, the author's persona, like most online personas (including my own) is contrived. She dismisses the claims that the Internet creates shallow, superficial human connections which are then used as a lesser surrogate for actual human contact by introverted and socially inept people; she uses herself as an example, describing the wonderful relationships she has with the people she has met online. And while I have no doubt that the friendships she has made which are depicted in the book are true and lasting, there is another side to this: her connections to the celebrities of Buffy the Vampire Slayer -- mostly the writers, as these are the people who interact most with the internet fans -- are tenuous at best, and yet she namedrops constantly, describing in detail all of the ways she has "worked" together with them to accomplish great things. Yet Joss Whedon doesn't know her name, a circumstance that understandably annoys her to no end (I was reminded of Homer Simpson's problem with C.M. Burns), but one that is never explored as the indicator it is. There is a chapter dedicated to a member of a forum who made up complex and poignant stories about her life, a sort of e-Munchausen's Syndrome, and how the fans (led by the intrepid and tenacious Allyson Beatrice, of course) investigated and confronted her with the truth, and yet this is dismissed as a fluke, an unusual event, when it is not: the Internet is filled with exaggerated and invented claims, and the most suspect people are those who are proudest of their reputations as honest and upfront people. Like the author.
However: the book was worth reading, despite its lack of a clear premise beyond the author's aggrandizement, for one simple reason: it named for me Imposter's Syndrome. This is the name for the fear that any day now, people will recognize you for the fraud that you are, and strip away all of your accomplishments and rewards, none of which you earned with anything but trickery and blind, dumb luck. I share this fear, and the chapter describing it was the high point of the book -- though I also enjoyed the story of Thanksgiving with a group of forum friends renting a house together on Catalina Island and sitting around on wireless laptops all day; as another introvert who uses the internet as a way to connect to people without actually having to meet them face to face (A character flaw that I, at least, am honest about), I thought that sounded great. The rest of the book, I could have done without.
Book #95
Fool's Errand
by Robin Hobb
So I've finally slouched back around toward Bethlehem to read a Robin Hobb series again. Last year, intending it as preparation for reading this series, I re-read the Farseer trilogy, about FitzChivalry Farseer, royal bastard, assassin, and twice-over psychic; and then after a false start on this book, I read the Liveship Traders series, about the dragons that once were and could be again and all of the people around them -- including the wonderfully sociopathic pirate Kennit, the tortured ship Paragon and the irritating Vivacia and her equally irritating family. But by the time I got through 6 epic fantasy tomes of 600 - 800 pages each, I was a little tired of Robin Hobb, so I never got around to reading the series I meant to read: The Tawny Man, the conclusion of FitzChivalry's story, which has now become the Fool's story just as much as Fitz's.
I'm glad to say the writing hasn't diminished any. Hobb is a brilliant novelist, with a great ability to render realistic characters and setting; she has built a world here that is as true to life as any history. One of my favorite things about these books is Hobb's use of unintended consequences: almost everything that occurs to challenge these characters is the result of a prior action -- though not always theirs -- and what comes now is an effect they never expected and never meant to cause. It works extremely well with the character of the White Prophet, the Fool from the first trilogy who became Amber in the Liveship stories, and is now Lord Golden -- but always the Fool to Fitz, and to me. The White Prophet is supposed to move the wheel of time out of its rut before it digs itself down too deep -- a nice depth added to Jordan's metaphor -- by using an unsuspecting and unobtrusive person, the Catalyst, as his tool. Fitz is the Fool's Catalyst, and the Fool is using him to change the path of time. He can only do it in small ways, with small alterations to the futures he sees, but those small alterations, like the butterfly effect, lead to great sweeping changes in the fullness of time.
This first book, Fool's Errand, picks up Fitz's story fifteen years after the end of the Royal Assassin series -- just enough time for the Fool to go to Bingtown and gain some experience of dragons, some color, and a whole lot of money, and for Fitz's two children to grow up. Fitz has spent this time hiding, living simply with his wolf, Nighteyes. I expected Nighteyes to be dead when I opened this book, and I was ready to mourn him, but it was nice to see that Hobb included what I bet is a common ignorance about the lifespan of wild timber wolves; I have no idea how long Nighteyes would normally live, and once you include the fact that sharing a bond with Fitz has affected him mentally and physically, it becomes impossible to predict. He is old in this book, though, and it is sad to read -- it makes Fitz seem a lot older than he is, but he's only my age or so. And I'm not old, my students' comments notwithstanding.
The Fool returns to Fitz's life, in a wonderfully emotional reunion that showed Hobb's flair for dramatic irony: I know the Fool, still completely androgynous (though as he is perceived through Fitz's eyes, he takes on a more masculine aspect in this book), has been in love with Fitz from the beginning, but Fitz has no idea, and so when Fitz opens his arms wide to greet his friend and the Fool leaps into his embrace, it was very sweet to read. It was the same when Fitz asks what he should call the Fool now that the Fool is no longer a court jester, and the Fool says his true name is Beloved, and Fitz should call him either that, or Fool -- but he will call Fitz Beloved. I truly hope these two work it out before the end of the series; at this point, my main motivation for finishing these books is to find out the end of the romance.
The story in this one was fine, though a little thin compared to some of the others; it was a bit too much of a chase book, as the crown prince of the Six Duchies, Prince Dutiful, has vanished and Fitz spends the last three-quarters of the book tracking him down and trying to free him from the clutches of the villains. But the villains were excellent, and I like the overall situation in the kingdom, with the persecution of the Witted ones -- people who, like Fitz, can bond with animals. I'm less intrigued by Fitz's new role, by the end of the book, as the Skillmaster, as I've never been as interested in the Skill as in the Wit, but I like that he will be teaching both to Dutiful -- and, I hope, to Nettle.
I will be reading the next book shortly, and the prospect is exciting.
by Robin Hobb
So I've finally slouched back around toward Bethlehem to read a Robin Hobb series again. Last year, intending it as preparation for reading this series, I re-read the Farseer trilogy, about FitzChivalry Farseer, royal bastard, assassin, and twice-over psychic; and then after a false start on this book, I read the Liveship Traders series, about the dragons that once were and could be again and all of the people around them -- including the wonderfully sociopathic pirate Kennit, the tortured ship Paragon and the irritating Vivacia and her equally irritating family. But by the time I got through 6 epic fantasy tomes of 600 - 800 pages each, I was a little tired of Robin Hobb, so I never got around to reading the series I meant to read: The Tawny Man, the conclusion of FitzChivalry's story, which has now become the Fool's story just as much as Fitz's.
I'm glad to say the writing hasn't diminished any. Hobb is a brilliant novelist, with a great ability to render realistic characters and setting; she has built a world here that is as true to life as any history. One of my favorite things about these books is Hobb's use of unintended consequences: almost everything that occurs to challenge these characters is the result of a prior action -- though not always theirs -- and what comes now is an effect they never expected and never meant to cause. It works extremely well with the character of the White Prophet, the Fool from the first trilogy who became Amber in the Liveship stories, and is now Lord Golden -- but always the Fool to Fitz, and to me. The White Prophet is supposed to move the wheel of time out of its rut before it digs itself down too deep -- a nice depth added to Jordan's metaphor -- by using an unsuspecting and unobtrusive person, the Catalyst, as his tool. Fitz is the Fool's Catalyst, and the Fool is using him to change the path of time. He can only do it in small ways, with small alterations to the futures he sees, but those small alterations, like the butterfly effect, lead to great sweeping changes in the fullness of time.
This first book, Fool's Errand, picks up Fitz's story fifteen years after the end of the Royal Assassin series -- just enough time for the Fool to go to Bingtown and gain some experience of dragons, some color, and a whole lot of money, and for Fitz's two children to grow up. Fitz has spent this time hiding, living simply with his wolf, Nighteyes. I expected Nighteyes to be dead when I opened this book, and I was ready to mourn him, but it was nice to see that Hobb included what I bet is a common ignorance about the lifespan of wild timber wolves; I have no idea how long Nighteyes would normally live, and once you include the fact that sharing a bond with Fitz has affected him mentally and physically, it becomes impossible to predict. He is old in this book, though, and it is sad to read -- it makes Fitz seem a lot older than he is, but he's only my age or so. And I'm not old, my students' comments notwithstanding.
The Fool returns to Fitz's life, in a wonderfully emotional reunion that showed Hobb's flair for dramatic irony: I know the Fool, still completely androgynous (though as he is perceived through Fitz's eyes, he takes on a more masculine aspect in this book), has been in love with Fitz from the beginning, but Fitz has no idea, and so when Fitz opens his arms wide to greet his friend and the Fool leaps into his embrace, it was very sweet to read. It was the same when Fitz asks what he should call the Fool now that the Fool is no longer a court jester, and the Fool says his true name is Beloved, and Fitz should call him either that, or Fool -- but he will call Fitz Beloved. I truly hope these two work it out before the end of the series; at this point, my main motivation for finishing these books is to find out the end of the romance.
The story in this one was fine, though a little thin compared to some of the others; it was a bit too much of a chase book, as the crown prince of the Six Duchies, Prince Dutiful, has vanished and Fitz spends the last three-quarters of the book tracking him down and trying to free him from the clutches of the villains. But the villains were excellent, and I like the overall situation in the kingdom, with the persecution of the Witted ones -- people who, like Fitz, can bond with animals. I'm less intrigued by Fitz's new role, by the end of the book, as the Skillmaster, as I've never been as interested in the Skill as in the Wit, but I like that he will be teaching both to Dutiful -- and, I hope, to Nettle.
I will be reading the next book shortly, and the prospect is exciting.
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