The Rest of June (And a few hours of July)

I dunno why I started the count over; I think I remembered all of the books I've read that I missed a proper write-up for, so I've gone back to what should be the correct total number. The Magicians is #32 for the year. Here's the last four for June, including the one I finished today, the first of July. Hey, I read most of it in June.

A Fistful of Charms
by Kim Harrison

Pick:
Wanted to knock another book off my TBR list, wanted to read something a little sweeter than all the horrible mangled bloody death of Anita Blake. Maybe not the best choice. Heh

Story:
Toni says this is her least favorite book in the series, and I can see why. Rachel gets pretty damned annoying, pretty damned fast. The opening scene, when she gets jumped by the Weres because she is David's Alpha, starts off the annoyance, though the Weres are the annoying part of that one. What the hell is their problem? Why can't David do what he wants? Why do they have to take it out on Rachel? Smug bastards. From there we go to Rachel and Kisten, and Rachel is immediately annoying because she teases Kisten by mixing their scents; more of that whole need-danger-for-sexy-feeling thing of Rachel's, combined with her unconditional demand that everyone around her have all of the willpower she apparently doesn't have, so they can take up the slack and keep her safe from her own stupidity. Then it's Jenks being pissy over the whole Trent-elf-secret thing. Then it's Rachel freaking out about the smut on her soul from twisting the curses for herself and Jenks.

Then the book is good for a while. I like the part when Jenks is learning how to be big, when they rescue Jax and find his new kitty cat, and when they go after the Weres on the island and Rachel wins the fight against their Alpha.

But then Ivy shows up. Which is fine at first, until she and Rachel fool around with Rachel's blood. That scene, and the aftermath, are just totally obnoxious. But not as obnoxious as DeLavine (Whose name I hate, because it reminds me too much of Laverne and Shirley, and that just isn't intimidating and vampire-y) with his arrogant attempt to claim Rachel simply because he's more powerful than Ivy. You know, I understand that the undead vampires are utterly inhuman because they are dead, and they are also very powerful. But nobody can get away with being that in-your-face obnoxious, not and expect to live a thousand years. Not when you're unconscious and trapped inside during the day. None of these fuckers would be alive, because all of their underlings would have turned on them. Like Piscary -- who also has a terrible and non-intimidating name -- and how much he fucks with Ivy. Tell me somebody wouldn't have staked his undead ass. So on one level, it's good, because clearly the characters that are supposed to bother me do so quite successfully. On another level, I hate those goddamn vampires and I want them all dead. Which doesn't fit well with Ivy and Kisten being sympathetic characters. Anyway, then Rachel starts whining about killing Peter (and this is after a good amount of whining about taking Brimstone even though it's more medicine than drug and she needs it if she's going to share blood), the living vampire who has agreed to take Nick's place in the fake accident, even though it was his choice to do this and it isn't freaking up to her, and screw all that "You have so much to live for!" jazz. This coming from a young, healthy, independent woman in a loving relationship with very dear friends. Yeah, YOU'VE got plenty to live for. Doesn't mean Peter does, ya twit.

But then I like the death hoax and I like when Jenks comes back to the firm. So it ended okay.

Thoughts:
I may skip this one next time I read through all of these. Probably why I wrote so much.



Sandman Slim
by Richard Kadrey

Pick:
Vine Voice choice, picked because it sounded badass.

Amazon Review:
Sandman Slim is metal. By that I mean: he is equal parts destructive rage, self-loathing melancholy, stubborn stick-it-to-the-man rebellion -- always willing to fight despite the futility of it, just to spit out a tooth and see blood on his knuckles -- and ironic amused nihilism. It wasn't always the most pleasant book to read, but Judas Priest, it was METTULL.

First impression: the writing is brilliant. The ideas are fantastic, original and intriguing and yet close enough to known mythology/religion/fantasy concepts to be tangible. Slim is a former magician named Stark who was sent to Hell where he becomes an arena fighter for the amusement of the damned. He survives, which nobody expected, and so graduates from gladiator to goon: he goes to work for Azazel, one of Lucifer's generals, killing Azazel's enemies for him. Azazel gives him the best tool an assassin could have: the key to the Room of Thirteen Doors, which can open to anywhere in the universe that Stark needs to go. Stark eventually turns on his master, moving from hellhound to loose cannon, and he escapes from what he calls Downtown, going to an even worse place -- Los Angeles. There he begins work on his own pet project: the murder of the people who sent him to Hell, and killed his lost love. And all of that is background.

Second impression: the characters are generally excellent, particularly the bit players. Stark has one friend still around, an alchemist named Vidocq, and he meets a few more, including Carlos, his new favorite bartender, and Allegra, his employee and supernatural intern. The villains are not so interesting, though Stark's unique perspective makes enemies out of those who should be allies and vice-versa; but the main bad guys, the true enemies that Stark spends the book hunting, are a bit of a letdown. They're either too bad or not bad enough. But the reason for that is:

Third impression: the story is stuck in a bit of limbo. On one level, it seemed the author was trying to trying to begin a series, and so some things happen to lay down a foundation for an ongoing story; on another level, the author tried to make this book a full-speed head-on train wreck of an action scene. So at times the book moved slowly, establishing Stark's character and motives, giving him time to ponder things and explore the world around him and his place in it -- and at times he was going from fight to fight, each time against bigger and badder monsters, until the final fight scene takes place (figuratively) on the field called Armageddon. The problem with this is that the two levels didn't mesh: the enemies and the specific problem are too big, and the characters' lives are too small. Either level would have worked just fine, because both are done well, but it was hard to reconcile Stark driving around smoking and eating donuts, getting crushes on every punk rock girl he sees (Hey, he's been in Hell for eleven years), with the end of the world. The resolution, which does leave room for a sequel, can't help but be an anti-climax.

Final impression: Great idea, good characters, great writing -- okay story. If this becomes a series and Sandman Slim finds his niche, watch out.

Thoughts:
Like I said: stuck between two different kinds of book, occasionally annoying to read, but generally pretty good. It wraps up really well apart from the anti-climax with Stark's main enemy. The fight scenes are excellent, especially the last one. The author really should have kept it small -- I keep thinking of the first Harry Dresden book, which introduces all of these large elements and enemies, the White Council, Johnny Marcone, and so forth -- but only resolves the conflict with this one little guy, the Shadowman, and solves one problem of Dresden's, the Doom of Damocles. To build a good setup for a series, you have to keep it small in the first book. Sandman Slim doesn't.


Dead and Gone
by Charlaine Harris

Pick:
I needed Sookie. I love these books, and it's the new one and we've had it for like a month and I hadn't read it yet. Of course, I still haven't read the new Rachel Morgan or the new Harry Dresden, and I have a hundred other books to read, not counting all my new Vine Voice books with their fast turnaround time. Don't care. Wanted Sookie.

Story:
Wow, this one got pretty damned bleak. I mean, you have Arlene finally leaving the bar because of her racism; you've got a crucifixion; you've got three important characters dying and one at death's door, and you've got the main character being horribly, brutally tortured -- and now, methinks, brought right to the edge of being a vampire. That comment at the end makes me think that if Sookie dies, she won't stay dead for long.

I like that the Weres are out; I look forward to seeing how it works from here. I like that Sookie has to deal with her growing renown, though I fear for her ability to keep her small happy life. I like that her little cousin is starting to need her -- I love that he told his father's girlfriend that he knew she didn't really like him, and she should stop picturing his daddy without any clothes on -- and I'm really looking forward to that storyline picking up in the next book. I like the revelation we got about Sookie's past, and I like how the Faerie stuff gets resolved in this book. I wonder how much of this book's action was the author's reaction to the criticism from the last book about the Were war fizzling out with a minimum of violence. Because this book had all the violence you could need. Though I'm sure that people will now complain about that. And even though he pisses me off -- stupid high-handed vampire with his little knife ceremony! -- I'm actually very glad that Sookie is moving forward with Eric. Quinn needs to get over it and move on. Yeah, I understand that Sookie's the best -- but she doesn't want you, dude. Find somebody else. Pouting and begging? Not going to win fair maiden's heart.

Thoughts:
Yay Sookie!


The Magicians
by Lev Grossman

Pick:
Amazon Vine book, picked at the same time as Sandman Slim. I read this one second because it was more daunting, but I read it now because I want to knock off my Vine choices -- I need to have 75% of them reviewed before I can order more, so the more I review, the more new things I can pick off of the newsletters, and after I picked these two books it turns out that you can also pick incredibly cool electronics and such, stuff like digital cameras and MP3 players, but I couldn't because I already had two books waiting to review and only two done. So now I will have reviewed four Vine books, and I've got two more to go -- and then I'll be able to pick three items, because even if I have two waiting, I'll have reviewed six out of eight, and when the new newsletter comes, I'll be able to pick. So I want to get through these. Plus this one still sounds very interesting.

Amazon Review:
Stop thinking this is a fantasy book. I know, I know, it's called The Magicians, the plot synopsis references all three of the most famous fantasy series and describes a handful of familiar fantasy tropes, including the school of magic and the fairy tale land come to actual life. But forget all of that. I have read more fantasy books than I can remember -- I'm named for a character in perhaps the most famous fantasy series of all time -- and I'm telling you: The Magicians is not a fantasy.

It has fantastic elements, yes. There is magic; there is a school for magic, where the characters learn to cast spells, using hand gestures and arcane language and strange mystical components -- Ziploc bag full of mutton fat, anyone? -- and there is a voyage from this world to another, a land of naiads and fauns and magical speaking animals, gods and demons, kings and queens, quests and wishes. But this book is something very different from the usual fantasy novel: in The Magicians, Lev Grossman has done something unusual, and remarkable, perhaps even unique: this is a grown-up fantasy. This book is to fantasy what The Grapes of Wrath is to travel books, what The Metamorphosis is to self-help: so much more depressing and visceral and funny and horrifying, and genuine, and fascinating, and hard to read and therefore valuable, that it doesn't belong in the same category despite sharing some central traits. The setting is imagined, and there are supernatural things that happen, but make no mistake: this is a serious novel.

Where most fantasy books provide an escape from our reality, this book does not: the characters are too close to plain old humanity, flawed, contradictory, foolish and foolhardy, to stand in as idealized versions of ourselves. In point of fact, the moral of this book is that escape is not only impossible, but dangerous and harmful to attempt. The hero, Quentin Coldwater, attempts to escape every serious situation he faces, and every time, he ends up worse off than he would have been if he had just been able to deal with it, honestly and sincerely. But his response to his worsened circumstances is to try to escape again -- with predictable results. Every step Quentin takes is the wrong one, and every step sinks him deeper and deeper into a quagmire. The book gets hard to read: not because the writing is anything less than excellent, as it is top notch from first page to last, but because the urge to reach into the page and slap, shake, and eventually throttle the main character becomes overwhelming. But that desire, that feeling, should be familiar to every adult who has thought back on his or her life, and shook his or her head, thinking, "Why did I do that? How could I be that stupid?" That desire to smack Quentin is no different from the desire to smack our younger selves.

The real triumph of this book, however, is that it is not only a serious novel, despite what I have been saying. Grossman is able to describe a world of wonder and imagination, and populate it with characters who are utterly unworthy of the magic all around them, who appreciate nothing, who completely flub their great chance -- just like I would have done if I lived through this experience, just as most of us do with our great chances in our real, mundane, unfantastic lives, which are also as full of wonder as any dreamed by a teller of tales. And because the characters are so real, so easy to relate to, it makes the fantasy seem just as real -- which makes the real world just as fantastic. Brakebills reminded me of my own college experience, and yet it is a magical place. Fillory is indeed a fairy tale land come to life in this book, and I found myself wishing that I could believe I would have handled Fillory better than Quentin does -- but knowing that I would have done almost precisely the same things, made the same choices and the same mistakes.

I won't say that this is a great book, on par with Of Mice and Men and Catcher in the Rye and To Kill a Mockingbird, but I will say that it is closer to those than it is to The Hobbit or the Xanth books. If you are a fan of literature, of thinking about your reading, then you must get this book, especially if you enjoy fantasy. If you are just looking for an escape, look elsewhere -- because this is not a fantasy. Or at least, it isn't only a fantasy. It's a wonder.

Thoughts:
I actually started to despise Quentin, and the reason is quite clear: I made many of the same choices in my own life, for many of the same reasons, and with many of the same results. Up until the point when there was a situation that Quentin got wrong, that I got right: because I knew it when I met the woman of my dreams, and I made sure I never screwed it up. I wanted that to be one of a hundred things that Quentin gets wrong that I got right, or that I would have gotten right if I were in the same situation, but it was maybe the only thing. Stupid kid. Stupid book, making me think about stuff, think about myself and my life and my shortcomings. Stupid brilliant author. Oh, one funny note: I'm reading this, and I'm thinking it's a fabulous idea and the writing is really wonderful (this was before it got annoying, of course), and at first I was thinking, Dammit, why can't I write like that? Then I looked on the back of the book: Lev Grossman is a senior editor and the chief book critic for Time magazine, and the man holds degrees in comparative literature from Yale AND Harvard.

Then I thought, Oh. That's why I can't write like that.