Halfway Down the Stairs

In my last post, I recommended two books. Or rather, I said I enjoyed them, which is essentially the same thing. The thing is, I may have overstated my enjoyment, at least for one of them. Oh, and my write-up contained other inaccuracies as well. Let me 'splain.

I hyped both books as the type that would normally cause me to temporarily abandon my secondary book (as I always have two going at a time). But, in retrospect, that was a lie. A more accurate assessment: The Martian begged to be my sole focus. Blackbirds, on the other hand, was just entertaining enough I couldn't bring myself to put it aside.

Mind you, that's not a black mark on Blackbirds. A lesser tale would have been cast aside faster than you can say "post haste." I'm merely saying that, under different circumstances, it still wouldn't have been a one-at-a-time book.¹

On to The Martian. I stand by my statement that it's one of the best books I've read, but I should mention it's not one of the best-written books I've read. I mean, it's written well enough, but there is unevenness to the narration (particularly the third-person omniscient sections I referred to last post). And though you suffer with astronaut Mark Watney throughout, you don't get a real sense of his character. The story, like Mark, is focused almost entirely on his survival. Unlike most great books, at its core this one is not about people or relationships. It's about crazy scenarios and clever solutions. And I loved it.

Although, I would've liked an epilogue.


One last thing. I've never been good at keeping track of what I read, but I did want to share a short list of the other books I've loveloveloved this past year. A few others came close, but these are the three that grabbed hold and didn't let go:

• What If?: Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions, Randall Munroe
• Red Rising and Golden Son, Pierce Brown²

¹ I also spoke of Blackbirds' plot twists. I'm not sure why; thinking back I can't recall any real twists. (Luckily, it didn't need them. Its concept and characters were compelling enough for this humble reader.)
² Now these two are rife with plot twists. And backstabbing. And backstabbingly good plot twists. (Sure, you may not trust my judgment after my misstatement last time, but don't worry. There's absolutely no chance I'll be recanting these statements in a future post.)^3
3 Note: I reserve the right to recant other statements.

Ode on a Grecian Murder Mystery

 
The Pericles Commission
by Gary Corby

I've never fallen asleep during a movie, nor whilst reading fiction. But for four years, high school history textbooks were my kryptonite.¹ The writing was dry and tedious, and although I'd previously enjoyed the subject, I soon began to equate history with boredom. If only those texts had read more like Gary Corby's excellent debut, The Pericles Commission, I might not have vilified it in my graduation speech.

I studied ancient Greece in high school, but as you might expect, I retained none of that knowledge once the test was behind me. Yet, by weaving those same details into the context of his historical mystery, Corby has now ensured I remember many aspects of Athenian culture, from banking to slavery to politics.

The Pericles Commission begins with the murder of Ephialtes, days after he has helped bring the world's first democracy to Athens. He falls at the feet of Nicolaos, an enterprising young man whom Pericles soon commissions to find the murderer because, unlike everyone else involved, he has no political agenda.

Apart from Nicolaos, nearly every major character is pulled straight from the history books, but unlike the writers I was subjected to in my teen years, Corby breathes life into every one, imbuing each with unique motivations and reactions. And though some aspects of Greek culture are revealed through exposition, most are divulged as Nicolaos discovers them himself, for he starts off the book unfamiliar with much of higher society.

The history is great, but the story is where Corby really shines. Writers are often told to torture our protagonists, and he does that with aplomb. Nicolaos initially stumbles as an inexperienced sleuth, then slowly gains confidence and supporters. Yet, when his ultimate goal seems just within reach—BAM! The carpet is pulled out from under him.² He regroups, and just as he attains his new goal—BAM! The tables are turned once again.³

The Pericles Commission is a thoroughly entertaining read, and I highly recommend it. All history should be taught this way.

(You should also check out Gary Corby's blog.)

Rating:

¹ Small amounts of exposure would leave me pained and weak; larger doses drained me of my energy completely. Also, no one recognized me when I took off my glasses.
² It's not a literal carpet.
³ The tables aren't literal, either. Also, I apologize for channeling Emeril Lagasse for a moment there.

Two New Overdue Reviews

In one book, a twelve-year-old genius is suspicious of the new kid in town. In the other, an amnesiac who can't feel pain wrestles with, first, a lion, and then his new-found fame. One is for a middle grade audience. The other is most certainly not.

So, what do these two novels have in common? I won them both on the internets.

Archvillain
by Barry Lyga

In late September, I won a signed copy of Archvillain on author Barry Lyga's blog by announcing I wanted the power to hurl a yak into space using only my mind. True story.

Speaking of stories...

Everyone else in town loves "Mighty" Mike, but sixth grader Kyle Camden doesn't trust him. In a twist on the old Superman origin story, Mike appears in town after a meteor shower¹ and starts doing superheroey things. Kyle, with new superpowers of his own (and a pet rabbit), concocts increasingly complicated plans to unmask Mike as an alien and a fake.

Archvillain is an entertaining story on its own, but what I enjoyed most was how Lyga took various modern conventions and turned them on their head. The protagonists in most middle grade fiction start out as shy, bullied losers with no real talent, yet Kyle is the smartest and most popular kid in his school. And, though Kyle is constantly rebuffed in his efforts to convince the town the truth about Mighty Mike — after all, no one ever believes kids in kids' books — the further you read, the more you begin to realize this may not be the kind of tale where the plucky protagonist saves the day.

But then again, as the back cover states, "Sometimes it's good to be bad."

Rating:

¹ Which Kyle explains was neither meteors nor a shower. Discuss.


Numb
by Sean Ferrell

In late October, I won a copy of Numb from David Hebblethwaite over at Follow the Thread by being completely random.²

Numb, at its core, is about a man who is numb at his core. Not only is he immune to pain, but he's sometimes frozen in his decision-making and insensitive to how his actions might harm others. It's almost as if he's in a daze for most of the book, letting others manipulate and use him rather than finding his own way. Yet, for someone who sounds so dull, he's quite the complex character.

And he's surrounded by a cast that is equally as complex, often acting or reacting in ways that only make sense later on. I tend to prefer fiction driven by plot rather than character, but the depth Ferrell gives his characters, especially Mal (the friend), Hiko (the girlfriend), and Emilia (the lover), kept me riveted.³

By the way, there's one thing I noticed which others may have missed. On page 3, the main character explains how he first stumbled into a Texas circus, bloody and with no memory of who he is. He concludes with:

When some of the carnies came up to me, I said, "I'm numb."
This became my name.

Yet, as best I can remember, not one person in the entire novel refers to him by name. That Sean Ferrell sure is a clever one.

Numb is the story of a man searching for an identity, while also doing his best to traverse the ins and outs of friendships, relationships, and the kind of celebrity you get by driving nails through your skin.

Plus, carnies.

Rating:

² Of course, you probably thought the space yak bit that won me the other book was completely random, but this is a completely different "completely random." In this case I mean I was selected to win randomly.
³ This is a special service Ferrell offers. For $100 (plus travel costs and a signed liability waiver), he will come to your home, pump you full of painkillers, and rivet you to a copy of his book. How better to connect with the main character and his plight?

Then We Came to the End

No, this is not a review of Joshua Ferris's first novel.¹ I'm referring to the end of November. The end of my many NaNos. Here's how I fared:

1. NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month)
   My final tally was a scant 1,724 words. I may not have reached the accepted goal of 50,000 put forth by "the man," but I call it a success. 'Tis a sad truth, I admit, but it's still 1,724 more words than I'd written since April.
    
2. NanoRhino Awareness Month
   I may have only raised $2,020.07 for the NanoRhinos, and $2,000 of that was my own money,² but I call it a success. With my meager donation, Dr. Heinrich von Heinrichsen was able to construct a high-tech habitat for these poor, endangered creatures. To me it resembled little more than a dollar store ant farm, but what do I know about science?
    
3. NaNoRhyMo (National Novel Rhyming Month)
   I halved my output from last year, but my half-dozen rhymes garnered some epic praise, and for the first time ever we had two participants! Two! Most successful NaNoRhyMo ever!
    
4. NaNoRyMo (National No Rye Month)
   Both Denise and I made it the entire month without consuming an ounce of rye! Neither the whiskey nor the bread passed these lips these past weeks. No Salinger, either. Never has success tasted so sweet!

Four noble NaNos, four success stories. I can only wonder what surprises December may hold.<sup>3


1</sup> This is. Although Then We Came to the End was an intriguing and sometimes humorous look at the inner workings of a failing advertising company, it fell short in my not-so-humble opinion. I found its first person plural narration distracting, and at odds with itself when presenting the thoughts of a character who was decidedly not part of the "we." It has its moments, but the book isn't nearly as funny as it tries to be.
2.5 fiery wheels out of 5.
² Denise chipped in another $20, either out of pity or to stop my constant begging, and the rest came from the always generous people at the local Take-A-Penny/Leave-A-Penny.
³ Hint: It involves velociraptors.

Attack of the Zombie Aliens!

Last night, for my brother's birthday, we went to see the movie Skyline. From both the previews and the reviews, I was well aware of what to expect: a film with some quality special effects, but little else of value. Knowing this, I decided I'd watch the film with a critical eye, to see what I'd have done differently had I written the script.

First off, I'd have written a script.

Not only is the dialogue poor and the action predictable, but the film feels like it was written by a couple of visual effects guys.¹ Some of its other problems:

• It begins with a little teaser scene, then jumps back 15 hours to introduce the characters (three of whom are visual effects guys!). Attention, movie people: If you want to start with the action, then stick with it and develop the characters as you go. If you want to build up to the action by setting the scene and developing the characters, do that instead. You can't start with the action, then build up to the same action. Lose the frakkin' preface.
   
• It's a horror film, so as you'd expect, characters don't act like normal people. "Ooh, let's wait half an hour after the first attack to turn on the news and get more details!" "Ooh, let's all take the elevator when we try to escape from the building!"²
   
• Even if you ignore the illogical logistics of the alien invasion (How'd they sneak up on Earth? How'd they know before they arrived they wanted our braaaaains?), when you find out their sole motivation (they want us for our braaaaains), it still makes absolutely no sense. The aliens looked good, though.
   
• Along with the usual tension created by characters having conflicting plans for survival, the writers also introduced extra tension between characters (based on relationship issues) for seemingly no other reason than it's what they'd been told they should do in their screenwriting class.
   
• You're given practically no reason to care about any of the characters, unless it's because you've enjoyed watching them in shows such as Scrubs (Donald Faison), Dexter (David Zayas), 24 (Eric Balfour), NCIS (Scottie Thompson), or Sweet Valley High (Brittany Daniel).
   
• And lastly, the reason we get to watch the invasion unfold from the perspective of these characters is not readily apparent until the very end of the film. I'll give you a hint: It's not because they happen to be filming it (a la Cloverfield) or because they're the ones who figure out how to kill off the aliens (a la Independence Day, Mars Attacks!). I could say more, but I don't want to ruin the ending for you.³

So, yeah, what would I have done differently? Well, I'd have rewritten the thing from scratch to fix all those points I just mentioned.

And then maybe — just maybe — I'd have added a plot.


¹ It was.
² Spoiler alert: Nothing happens in the elevator.
³ I'll let the ending do that.

No Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance

Some of you may remember this picture:

Some of you may be trying to forget this picture.

That's me with my two new Neville novels, which I won back in July by writing about bacon. I've been meaning to share my thoughts on them for a while now, but this past month I was just so wrapped up in my procrastination. That happens sometimes. Then again, some might argue I'm procrastinating even now, by continuing to write meaningless drivel when I could have already begun the reviews and instead be writing meaningful drivel. These people are all kinds of wrong. My drivel is never meaningful.

(By the way, for the two of you who saw the title of this post and thought I'd be discussing Chan-Wook Park and South Korean cinema, my apologies. Maybe next time.)

The Ghosts of Belfast
by Stuart Neville

Neville's debut novel, The Ghosts of Belfast, has an intriguing premise: Gerry Fegan, a former killer for the IRA, has served his time, but is haunted endlessly by the ghosts of twelve of his innocent victims. For years, he has sought solace at the bottom of a bottle,¹ but now the ghosts have a new proposal for Gerry. If he kills the other people who share responsibility for his victims' deaths, the ghosts will leave him alone.

Unfortunately, there's not much more to the story. It's well written, and I enjoyed getting a taste of all the warring factions in modern-day Belfast, but the plot is wafer-thin. Which would have been fine, except for one thing: Gerry isn't a likeable character. He moves from target to target, killing only to silence his ghosts. He spares others who don't deserve to be spared, simply because the ghosts haven't singled them out for destruction. And sometimes, the targets the ghosts have selected aren't the most plausible choice.

The Ghosts of Belfast is a standard tale of vengeance, yet one with few twists or roadblocks, and a main character with little redeeming value. I mean, he pledged to protect one attractive woman and her daughter. How valiant.

Though Neville's style won me over, the story and characters weren't enough to keep me hooked.

Rating:

¹ Not literally. He just drinks like a fish.^2
2 Not literally. Fish don't drink alcohol. Also, they have gills. Fegan doesn't. This isn't Waterworld, people.

Collusion
by Stuart Neville

Here we've got another tale with revenge at its core, but this time Neville does it right. Where its predecessor boasted little in the way of plot, Collusion introduces a beleaguered detective trying to find his ex-lover and young daughter, whom he believes are in trouble. Detective Jack Lennon is hindered every step of the way, and as he delves deeper he begins to unravel a conspiracy between all those warring factions I mentioned from the first book. Indeed, his family is caught directly in the cross-hairs. And weaving through it all, a cold-blooded³ assassin known only as the Traveller exacts another man's revenge through the streets of Belfast.

Lennon is the compelling, sympathetic character The Ghosts of Belfast lacked. And unlike Fegan's trail of vengeance in the first book, the Traveller's doesn't go nearly as smoothly. Speaking of Fegan, he's back, but since he's no longer taking orders from ghosts and comes in smaller doses, he's much easier to take.

With a compelling protagonist, actual character arcs, and traitors and conspiracies to uncover, Collusion easily surpasses its predecessor. Though I found the Traveller's motivations unrealistic at times, the bad guys' noses a little too easily broken, and the ending not as powerful as I'd hoped, all in all it was a very entertaining read.

Looking for a quality thriller filled with unseemly Irish characters? Leave the Ghosts behind and check this one out.

Rating:

³ Not literally. He is neither lizard nor vampire. A better descriptor might have been cold-hearted.^4
4 Not literally. I have it on good authority the Traveller's heart sits at a balmy 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit.

Hey, YA!

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Two books about hunger, poverty, and death. You know, for kids.

I Like Games

Unputdownable: ‘Tis a rare trait in books, and the older I get the rarer it becomes. It had been a year since my last encounter with an unputdownable book,¹ and I was beginning to wonder whether another story would come along and grip me the way so many had in my childhood. I never suspected my next one might also come from the realm of YA.² Yet, The Hunger Games pulled me in, and I simply (let me apologize ahead of time for the horrendous pun, though in my defense, no matter what the book was called I’d be using this very same wording) devoured it.

The circumstances for the story – a couple dozen teenagers battling to the death for their nation’s entertainment – may be reminiscent of a 10-year-old Japanese film, but Suzanne Collins does a better job of justifying her characters’ situation. In the remains of what was once the United States, the Capitol has set up the Hunger Games as punishment for a past rebellion. Every year, each of the twelve districts must send one girl and one boy to compete. For the poorer regions, such as District 12, this is akin to a death sentence.

As you might expect for this type of book, the main character is a sympathetic one, loath to hurt others except in self defense. And though Katniss Everdeen hails from District 12, we know from the very first page she’ll survive the Games.³ What keeps the pages turning, however, are all the unanswered questions: How does Katniss survive; does she win or escape? How are the Games structured? Will the kids gang together or go it alone? And would a baker without a sense of humor really name his son Peeta? Really?

The book is well-written, and its world and characters are engaging, but one of the things I enjoyed most was its treatment of love. Whereas many characters in modern YA lust after each other in a sparkly PG-13 manner, Katniss has a complete lack of interest in (and, indeed, understanding of) romantic love. Familial love she can get behind, but the idea of romance only appeals to her if it can facilitate her survival. Not only does this give great insight into Kat’s character and the world she grew up in, but I also found that not having love as a central theme was, at least for me, rather refreshing.

Of course, even an unputdownable book has its faults. It could have used more commas, for instance. I’m serious; some sentences would have flowed more naturally with that extra bit of punctuation inserted in the appropriate spot. Also, because the story is from Kat’s perspective, we miss out on actions that occur outside her purview. By itself, this is understandable, but when Katniss learns the details later on, we’re still left in the dark. Collins introduces some intriguing secondary and tertiary characters who (warning: not really a spoiler) die, and I wanted to know what happened. Yet we never get any clues as to what caused their demise.

And, despite numerous hints that Kat will fight back against the Capitol, none of it comes to fruition in this first book. Somehow, the ending manages to be both excellent (a skillful set-up for the second book) and unsatisfying (incomplete, with too much left for the later volumes). Nevertheless, The Hunger Games is an excellent read, and I heartily recommend it to anyone and everyone.

Oh, and you might like it, too.

Rating:

¹ Something about Deathly Hallows or some such nonsense.
² That’s Young Adult, for the uninitiated. If you are initiated, please point me in the direction of the Kool-Aid. Thanks a bunch.
³ When a book is the first in a trilogy and told in the first person, the main character’s survival is patently obvious. (Patent pending.)


I Like Books

In contrast, I had a hard time getting into this one. It’s the narrator. I’ll get to why in a moment, but first I want to cover the good stuff. And most of it is good stuff.

Markus Zusak has written an exceptional story, filled with bits of vivid imagery and marvelous prose I can only hope to match someday in my own work. The Book Thief takes place in Nazi Germany during World War II, and yes, it involves a Jew hidden in a basement, but it’s much more than that. It’s about the poor struggling to survive under Hitler’s regime. It’s about family. And friendship. And weaving through it all, one young girl’s love affair with books.

The tale is masterfully written, and by the end I was bawling like a little schoolgirl.⁴ This is all the more impressive considering I knew what was going to happen ahead of time. How did I know? Zusak told me.

No, not personally. But throughout the book, rather than keep us in suspense, Death comes right out and tells us what’s about to transpire. He might not provide all the details, but he doesn’t have to. And yet, this peculiar technique in no way detracts from the story. Indeed, it gives Death a little more personality.

Speaking of which, let’s delve into the bad. Some consider Death a gimmicky choice for the narrator, but that description isn’t quite apt. For lack of a better word, I’d say Death as the narrator is “clunky.” In the prologue, Death goes into detail about how he sees the world in myriad shades of colors, but in the rest of the tale few but the most common hues are mentioned. Also, The Book Thief is supposedly his retelling of Liesel Meminger’s story from a book she has written. Yet, we occasionally learn other characters’ thoughts and emotions, and Death’s explanations for why he took such an interest in Liesel in the first place feel forced and somewhat awkward.

* * * OH, AND ANOTHER THING * * *
Sometimes, he inserts extra details
in centered and bold text.
Like this.
It bugged me.

But mostly, I found Death’s narration didn’t add much to the tale except distraction. For the majority of the book, he basically acts as an omniscient third-person narrator — and indeed, these are the smoothest parts of the novel — but every so often, he interjects his own perspective with “I” or “my,” and every time, it yanked me right out of the story. Zusak should have stuck with third-person omniscient.

If you can get past the narration, however, The Book Thief is a phenomenal tale. I suggest you check it out.

Rating:

⁴ An extremely manly little schoolgirl.

Finally, the Truth About Honest Abe

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
by Seth Grahame-Smith

Four score and seven days ago,¹ Seth Grahame-Smith brought forth on this continent a new notion, conceived in literary form, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal, although some then become horrible blood-sucking creatures of the night that Abraham Lincoln believed should have their heads emancipated from their bodies.

I hadn’t read Grahame-Smithe’s earlier Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, but for some reason Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter intrigued me.² He handles the material well, weaving vampiric lore and American history together, sometimes in unexpected ways, while maintaining a serious, somber tone. The book contains little horror or gore, and is told in a straight-forward manner with selections from Lincoln’s alleged secret journals inserted throughout.

I’ll admit I was kind of hoping to find something like my first paragraph in there—Lincoln alluding to vampires in one of his seminal speeches, perhaps explained away by newspaper censorship.³ But Grahame-Smith stays pretty true to the established public accounts of both our country’s history and that of our president. Perhaps this is why the book provides little in the way of action once Lincoln assumes political office; indeed, three of the most dramatic situations in the book’s latter half all turn out to be dreams. I can forgive one dream sequence — especially if it provides insight into a character’s motivations or portends future events (these don’t) — but three? That just seems like hack writing.

What hurts the book the most, in my opinion, is its introduction, which is far too long, prattles on about the author rather than his subject, and pretends that this is Grahame-Smith’s first book, which we know it isn’t. But its biggest problem is that it causes more issues later on:

If we are to believe the introduction, Grahame-Smith pieced this manuscript together solely from Lincoln’s secret journals and information culled from historical documents. Yet, at one point we get the thoughts of a vampire who does not survive the encounter. Later on, John Wilkes Booth’s thoughts and plans are on full display. Given the sources Grahame-Smith purportedly used, this should be impossible. Yes, yes, I know it’s fiction, but it’s pretending not to be. Had he simply told the tale as narrative non-fiction, he could have gotten away with such gaffes, but he had to go and name his sources and screw everything up.

Speaking of screwing things up, lets get back to John Wilkes Booth. After the imaginative way in which Grahame-Smith worked vampires into the annals of American history, I was sure he had some great surprise planned to explain how Lincoln’s assassin fit into the whole equation. Unfortunately, the surprise was that there was no surprise: Booth was a vampire. It’s as though Grahame-Smith stopped drinking his creativity juice as soon as he got to the good part. Boo, hiss.

Overall, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter was an interesting contradiction: better than expected, yet disappointing at the same time, with an ending that fell flat. Kind of like the series finale of Lost.

Rating:

¹ That’s March 2, 2010, if you’re counting. (It’s almost as if I planned it.)
² It may have been the title.
³ Which would also help to explain why scholars have never agreed on the exact wording of the Gettysburg address, an absolutely true fact I learned about on Wikipedia.

A Quick and Dirty Dozen

I’ve been known to write the occasional book review, but I don’t have time to review every book I read. Besides, peoples’ attention spans are getting shorter by the day,¹ and no one wants to slog through an entire review any more. That’d be almost as bad as reading the book itself.

Thus, I present to you the 12-pack: One dozen short reviews, covering a handful of my most recent conquests.

¹ Officially 1.26 microseconds shorter, after that earthquake in Chile.

The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Pretend, for a moment, that I’m a guy. Guys don’t read 500+ page love stories. Yet, right from the opening scene (I don’t count the unnecessary prologue as the opening scene), I was hooked. With time travel involved, Clare can first meet Henry when he’s 35, and he can first meet her 14 years later when he’s 28, and it all makes perfect sense. It’s a very clever premise, and Niffenegger handles it deftly; my only complaint is that the book feels incomplete. Since the focus is primarily on their relationship, we learn of Henry’s time-traveling exploits involving Clare, but get little more than hints of such visits to other friends and family. I wanted to explore all the time-traveling possibilities, but alas, I was stuck in a love story. A pretty damn good one, but still.



I Was Told There’d Be Cake by Sloane Crosley

The book jacket hypes her as the next David Sedaris, the next Sarah Vowell, the next Dorothy Parker. Even if, like me, you think Sedaris is overrated,² those are some lofty comparisons for a first-time author. So, does my former college classmate measure up?

No, not quite. I Was Told There’d Be Cake has touches of brilliance, but overall the writing is uneven, and it’s rarely as funny as it’s trying to be. Surprisingly, my favorite essay employed two tactics that usually repulse me (2nd person narrative and scatalogical humor), while the promising “Bring-Your-Machete-To-Work Day” — about the computer game Oregon Trail — failed to hold my interest. Nevertheless, with her sardonic wit, perhaps Sloane will begin to fulfill what the book jacket promised when her sophomore effort comes out this summer.

² He is, you know. Unless he’s reading his own material, in which case the rating is spot on.



Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome

Although this pseudo-travelogue, originally published in 1889, may begin to physically shed its pages halfway through your reading — as it did for me — its sense of humor remains intact even today. Yes, Jerome might go off on a boring tangent once in a while, but since tangents had only just been discovered earlier that decade, I’ll forgive him such missteps. Had I known more about boating, or been more familiar with the fascinations of the day, I might have enjoyed the book even more. But, I didn’t.



The Invisible Kingdom: From the Tips of Our Fingers to the Tops of Our Trash, Inside the Curious World of Microbes by Idan Ben-Barak

Invisible Kingdom’s introduction promised fascinating tales of microscopic entities, accompanied by copious humor and footnotes.³ The latter were indeed plentiful, though Ben-Barak’s humor never really lived up to my expectations: a chuckle here and there, but really only one laugh-out-loud moment. And while microbes are indeed interesting little buggers – four instance, I had no idea E. coli was doing such good in the world – the book as a whole felt disjointed, because Ben-Barak often chose to cover each microbe separately, without any real segues, rather than create a flowing narrative within each chapter. I was hoping to find another non-fiction treat along the lines of A Short History of Nearly Everything, or perhaps another Stiff, but sadly, it was not to be.

³ Woooo! Footnotes!



The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde

If you love the written word, and grammar-related humor in particular, then you should read the Thursday Next series, where books are policed by literary detectives. Start with the The Eyre Affair, though; this third installment (of five) isn’t as strong as its forerunners. This is partly because the plot thickens, by which I mean it congeals and doesn’t really go anywhere, and partly because the story is entirely fictional, by which I mean it takes place wholly in the BookWorld, rather than in the “real world” (a.k.a. an alternate 1980s England). Nevertheless, this book does boast one of the best literary exchanges ever in regard to grammar: the “had had” and “that that” problem. Check it out.



Coronado by Dennis Lehane

Dennis Lehane: Fantastic mystery/thriller novelist. Crappy short story writer.

The six stories (technically, five stories and one play) probably would’ve been better if he’d stuck to what he knows: mysteries that take place in and around Boston. That, or he could’ve added monkeys. Everything’s better with monkeys.<sup>4

4</sup> Even monkeys.



The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis

Take it from me: Never revisit your childhood favorites. The Neverending Story (the movie) was blah. The Phantom Tollbooth dragged. And M.C. Hammer was a load of crap. Yet, because I’d enjoyed The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as a kid, I thought I’d relive the magic by reading the entire seven-book set.

Once I got past the nostalgia of the first book, the series was chock-full of inconsistent narration (mostly 3rd person, sometimes 1st), odd morals (Never eat a talking animal...oh, it’s dumb? Then dig in!), and a new set of child protagonists every time (whose personalities are all pretty much interchangeable). The stories were dull and the ending unappealing. I should have left my memories of Narnia locked up safe in the wardrobe of my brain.

Some people never learn.



The Sandman Vol. 1: Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman

The personification of Dream is imprisoned for seventy years, then escapes and goes about reacquiring the instruments of his office. Though this collection, containing the first eight comics in the Sandman series, isn’t Gaiman’s best work, that certainly doesn’t mean it’s bad. Calling it good doesn’t do it justice, either.

It’s better than good. It’s Gaiman.^TM



Take the Cannoli by Sarah Vowell

Nine out of ten doctors agree: Cannoli are healthier than guns. If you get shot with a cannoli, it won’t end your life; it just ends the life of the designer blouse that you’re wearing.⁵

Of course, all of this has little to do with Vowell’s book. She has this flair for weaving historical details into her own experiences, and vice versa. Take the Cannoli may not be as polished as some of her later works, but you can read about such divergent topics as her very first goth makeover, the suffering of the Cherokee along the Trail of Tears, and the time she helped her father fire off a cannoli. Er, cannon.

⁵ No, I’m not wearing a blouse. You are.



Wish I Could Be There: Notes From a Phobic Life by Allen Shawn

What’s that? Wallace Shawn’s brother wrote a book? And he has something like ten different phobias? That’s got to be an extremely insightful, engaging, and enjoyable read, right?

Yes, no, and no. While Allen Shawn delves deep into his own psyche to try to understand his many fears, he does so with few personal stories or anecdotes about his family. Indeed, much of the book reads like a scientific text. I’m sure it’s a fine book, but Shawn’s quest for knowledge didn’t quite jell with my selfish wish to be entertained, and thus, I gave up halfway through. Without reading the whole thing, I can’t fairly assign a rating... which might be for the best, considering Shawn probably has an irrational fear of flaming wheels.



The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag by Alan Bradley

Eleven-year-old Flavia de Luce is back, and sleuthier than ever. The opening scene may not pack quite the same punch as that of its predecessor, and it does take a bit longer to get to the meat of the story, but with Flavia once again giving the locals a run for their money as she tracks down a murderer, it sure doesn’t lack for entertainment.



Twelve Red Herrings by Jeffrey Archer

When a book comes right out and tells you that each of its stories has a red herring in it, that sort of defeats the purpose. Overall, the twelve tales were fun and well-written, but because I read each story looking for the twist or the misdirection, I caught it almost every time.

My biggest complaint, however, is with the last one in the collection. It’s a guy-meets-girl type of story, and Archer decided to provide four different endings. I usually enjoy that sort of thing, since we get to see how a small change in dialogue, manner, or timing can effect an enormous change on the full story line. Yet Archer goes about it all wrong. The main character is supposed to be the constant in such stories, with the world changing around him. But instead, in two of the four endings, the character’s back story is completely different. That threw me off, and made the tales less enjoyable.

Or maybe that was the point: those were the red herrings. Damn it, Archer! You tricked me!<sup>6

6</sup> You'd have gotten away with it, too, if not for those meddling kids (to say nothing of their dog).

Yeah, He's Lost It

The Lost Symbol
by Dan Brown

A few years back I read Dan Brown’s first two Robert Langdon novels, The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons. I remembered the tales as being outlandish but entertaining, yet some of my friends and family held a different opinion: They deemed Brown a talentless hack. That’s why I felt compelled to read his latest novel, The Lost Symbol; only in the last couple of years had I begun to read books with a critical eye, and recognize bad writing for what it was. I needed to find out once and for all: Was Dan Brown really as bad as people said?

Oh, you better believe it.

In The Lost Symbol, Robert Langdon gets summoned to Washington, D.C. to blah blah blah yackedy shmackedy. The story itself doesn’t really matter. Really, the characters and plot elements are only there for one purpose: to build the suspense. And, of course, when I say suspense, I mean short, formulaic chapters filled with cheap literary gimmicks.

Let’s begin with the main gimmick. Dan Brown employs one little trick repeatedly and unabashedly throughout the book, and that (along with some other telltale evidence) is what proved to me early on that I’m already a far, far better writer than he’ll ever be. What he does is this: He ends every chapter with some great revelation or unveiling. Now, this would actually be a fine way to keep the reader interested, except he never lets the reader in on the surprise! Instead, he’ll give you something like, “Langdon looked upon the object, and knew with utmost certainty that nothing would ever be the same again.” Then, chapter break. If you’re lucky, you’ll find out what the object is a few chapters later, rather than fifty chapters later.

In my writing, I also try to end chapters with a twist, or leave characters in the middle of a tense situation, surefire ways to keep the reader reading. The difference: I strive to shock the reader, whereas all Brown does is show us the shock on his character’s face.

Which brings me to my second point. If you ever deign to read a Dan Brown novel, one of the first things you may notice is that all of his characters are pretty much shocked all the time. And he’s not coy about it, either; instead of letting a character’s shock shine through in his dialogue or actions, Brown comes right out and tells you – repeatedly – that the figure is amazed, astonished, or astounded, and usually at the most mundane things.¹ Actually, maybe it’s a good thing he does us this service; if he didn’t tell us, we’d have no idea that the idea or the object or whatever was supposed to be shocking in the first place.

Some other things that bothered me:

• Often, characters withhold information from other characters – and from us, even if we’re following their inner monologue – for the sole purpose of moving the plot along.
• Robert Langdon is well-versed in Freemason lore, but believes every single aspect of it is myth. Even after a half-dozen are proven to be real, in relatively quick succession, what does he think the next time one comes up? Myth.
• At the beginning of the book, the Masons want to keep all their secrets secret, and go to great lengths to do so. By the end, they’re actively helping Robert Langdon uncover them, even though he himself is reluctant to do so.
• Brown did a ton of research to write this book, and goddammit, he wasn’t going to let any of it go to waste, whether or not the information was relevant. He imparts most of the research via flashbacks to earlier discussions or classroom lectures, and in one fateful instance, a flashback within a flashback.² If his editor hadn’t been a spineless pansy, s/he’d have gutted the book with a chainsaw and cut out about 150 pages.
• Brown uses too many pet words. For instance, he apparently likes to over-use the word apparently, despite that in almost every case there’s nothing “apparently” about it; it just is. Then, there are a couple chapters in the middle where everything’s potent, and one character refers to his sex organ multiple times as, well, “his sex organ.” Not his penis. Not his cock, his dick, or some other penile slang.³ His sex organ.
• By the end of the book, three of the main characters have nearly died. Yet, whether they’re dealing with loss of blood, loss of hand, or loss of credulous readers, the characters just keep on trucking. (“No, I don’t need to go to the hospital! It’s just a flesh wound! Now come with me, so I can let you in on things us Masons have kept secret for hundreds of years!”)

In conclusion, it sucked.

Rating:

¹ Though, of course, you have to wait at least 3 chapters after the character’s initial shock to find out just how mundane.
² Both discussions and lectures are completely unrealistic. Every time, the characters just happen to speak of the exact details that are important to the story, or argue about the very points Brown is anxious to dispel, and always in regard to the most obscure of subjects. In the lectures, the high schoolers participate enthusiastically and applaud the speaker, and the college students are way too knowledgeable even for Harvard folk. In essence, these scenes feel more staged than the rest of the book... which is saying something.
³ As opposed to penal slang, such as slammer. Although, it would have been fun if he’d called it his hoosegow.

Reading about Writing

The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E. B. White On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King

Elements of Elements of Style

Over the past fifty years, many people have praised The Elements of Style as an essential resource, sort of a Bible for writers. Like the standard Bible, it mentions Jesus,¹ and some revere it so highly they follow its teachings to the letter. Unlike the standard Bible, however, strict adherence to it isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Also, it’s only 85 pages long.

There’s a reason this text is so revered by writers: Strunk and White set forth their rules and principles in a simple, straightforward manner, with examples of unclear, incorrect, or wasteful language placed side by side with their proper (or recommended) revisions. They provide guidelines around usage, composition, form, and style, and also include a section highlighting commonly misused words and phrases. On occasion, they interject little morsels of humor into their advice, but if you’re looking for grammar-related entertainment, I suggest you look somewhere else; The Elements of Style is first and foremost a guidebook. A damn good guidebook, but a guidebook nonetheless.

As I read through the section on usage, my confidence soared, with proper use of the colon my only potential issue.² My confidence dipped, however, when I hit the section on composition. This was due to the fact that a few of the principles, particularly #14-17, were not always adhered to when I wrote.³ As a minor grammar snob, I was also surprised to find that I had been misusing a few of the most commonly misused words and phrases.⁴

Of course, both Strunk and White aren’t completely unbiased: Strunk lets his prejudices shine through most prominently in the section on misused words — he reserves an inordinate amount of ire for the phrase “student body,” for instance — whereas White airs his in his section on style. Also, some of their recommendations feel outdated, although this is not that shocking. If Strunk supplied the suggestion, it was originally made over ninety years ago. Even if White only inserted it in the most recent edition of the book,⁵ the word or phrase has now been misused for over thirty years. Either way, it might very well have been absorbed into the modern lexicon by now, and certainly, the “incorrect” usage of some words can now be found among the accepted definitions in many dictionaries.

Anyway, count me among the converted; I plan to follow the wisdom of this particular Bible. I already picked up my own copy of the ’79 edition for 50 cents at a book sale this past weekend, and I know I’ll be referring to it extensively once I begin the editing phase on my novel. For now, I’ll just leave you with one last bit of praise for Strunk and White, courtesy of Dorothy Parker:

If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.

Rating:

¹ Specifically, Jesus’ possessive.
² This makes perfect sense; I have Crohn’s disease. (Grammatically, though, the problem is my tendency to wuss out and use a semi-colon when I should be using a full-fledged colon. For example, see first sentence in this footnote.)
³ And that sentence illustrates me erring on three of them: 14. Use active voice, 15. Put statements in positive form, and 17. Omit needless words.
⁴ Such as “due to” in the previous sentence.
⁵ E.B. White, a former student of William Strunk Jr, took his mentor’s self-published book from the 1910s and added his own insights, publishing updated editions in 1959, 1972, and 1979.


On On Writing

Stephen King wanted to impart his wisdom of writing to the great, unwashed masses (a.k.a. aspiring writers). He also, seemingly, wanted to write a memoir about his early life and his more recent brush with death. But why go to the trouble of writing two separate books? He’d grouped novellas into one volume before, so why not non-fiction, too? In On Writing: A Memoir on the Craft, he sandwiches his writing advice in between the life and times of Stephen King. It doesn’t quite work.

Through the first 100 pages of On Writing, King details, among other things, his first attempts at writing, how he met his wife, and the origins of Carrie. Some of it is quite interesting, but it’s still about him, rather than the process of writing, which is the supposed focus of the book. Though, it helps to explain why I found the book in the biography section of the library.

When King finally gets to the writing part of On Writing, he proffers some useful tips. Likening the writer’s skills to tools in a toolbox, and stories to fossils the writer must unearth, he delivers solid advice on such things as pacing, dialogue, and description. And I expect his suggestions for the editing process and about writing for your “Ideal Reader” to prove quite valuable. Yet, many of his recommendations seem overly personal. While I agree that perhaps the two most important things a writer can do are to write a lot and read a lot, not everyone has the time to do that “four to six hours a day, every day.” Also, writers thrive in all manner of locations; just because he holes himself up in a room with the door closed and shades drawn doesn’t preclude someone else from finding a busy café to be ideal. Likewise, going virtually plotless may work for King, but not everyone is gifted in that way. Some people (myself included) prefer to develop the basics of their plot before they sit down to write, to ensure that everything will tie together in the end. Basically, too much of King’s advice smacks of, “It worked for me, so it’ll probably work for you.”⁶

Perhaps because his expertise is in writing fiction, or perhaps because he doesn’t like to plot out his books, King lays out his writing advice without any formal structure, making it difficult to reference specific sections quickly. He praises Strunk & White’s Elements of Style, yet may be worse than I am at complying with Rule #17 (Omit needless words). And he tends to relate the majority of his advice back to his experience with one of his own works, though I’m not sure if it’s a marketing ploy to sell more books or if he is simply talking about what he knows.

All in all, I can’t argue with most of the advice King offers. I will argue, however, with the decision to sandwich the advice in between autobiographical texts that provide little guidance in the practice of writing. Even if the word “Memoir” is in the subtitle.

In On Writing, King says that it is impossible to turn a bad writer into a competent one, and impossible to turn a good writer into a great one, but with hard work and dedication, a competent writer can become a good writer. I feel as though I’m on the cusp of goodness; all I need is a little more practice.

Four to six hours a day should do it.

Rating:

⁶ This wouldn’t be a direct quote, though, since throughout the book Stephen King makes it abundantly clear that he really really really really abhors adverbs.

Finally, A Mystery I Can Sink My Teeth Into

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie
by Alan Bradley

Flavia de Luce is an expert when it comes to poison. She spies on people, picks locks, and takes other people’s property. She lies to the police. Oh, and did I mention? Flavia de Luce is the heroine in this particular story.

She is also eleven years old.

It’s interesting to me that Alan Bradley, at the age of 70, became a first-time novelist by enlisting an 11-year-old girl as his narrator, and that the tale unfolds in England, a country he had never visited prior to completing the book. Nor was this the book Bradley set out to write; he was in the middle of writing a standard detective novel when Flavia showed up and hijacked the scene. Shortly thereafter, he scrapped that story and started anew.

In The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, Flavia de Luce discovers a body in her family’s garden. Lacking confidence in the local police, and not squeamish in the least, she sets out to find out what happened before the cops do. Unlike the last book I reviewed, this one plays out more like a traditional mystery, albeit with an unorthodox protagonist. And unlike the one I reviewed before that, the many analogies Bradley peppers his narrative with all make sense. Indeed, they’re often quite reflective of Flavia’s eccentric personality.

It’s certainly entertaining fare, but Bradley does take liberties at times. In a couple of instances he conveniently has Flavia’s memory fail in order to keep certain details a mystery, a technique which likely wouldn’t be as tolerated if the detective character wasn’t a child. Some of the adult characters open up to Flavia, and — surprise! — they share the very information she needs to propel her investigation forward. And precocious though she is, Flavia seems to know much more than an 11-year-old should about all sorts of topics. Perhaps this is because of her high level of intelligence, her copious reading, and the blissful lack of reality shows in 1950, when the story takes place. But if I had to guess, I’d say it was because she was written by a 70-year-old.

The mystery itself isn’t really anything to write home about.¹ It has its twists and turns, as well as one or two unexpected moments, but with the clues Bradley provides along the way, the intrepid reader will have it all figured out before the big payoff comes. Nevertheless, it’s enjoyable to follow along as Flavia pieces it all together, because one rarely knows what she’ll do next. That’s also why, when the sequels come out (The Weed that Strings the Handman’s Bag arrives in March), I’ll be transporting myself back to 1950s England for yet another piece of pie.

Rating:

¹ For you youngsters who may not know what this is, ‘writing home’ was something people did before the advent of e-mail. For you youngsters who may not know what that is, ‘e-mail’ was something people did before the advent of texting.

Megalopolopolis

The City & The City
by China Miéville

A woman is found dead in an alleyway in Besźel, and the investigation into her murder leads directly to Besźel’s sister city of Ul Qoma. The lead investigator must cross into foreign lands and contend with a different language, a dissimilar culture, and taut political tension. One city thrives as the other falls into decay. This all sounds like a pretty standard set up for an international mystery, doesn’t it? Well, here’s the twist:

Besźel and Ul Qoma occupy the exact same physical space.

China Miéville’s The City & The City is easily one of the most original books I have read... which probably helps to explain why it took me so long to really get into it. When I first heard the premise, I assumed the cities would be like parallel worlds, accessed via some manner of portals or rifts in space, similar to Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series. But that wasn’t it at all. It was actually something far more difficult for me to grasp.

Okay, say there are two people standing on the street in front of you, side by side. One of them could be in Besźel, the other in Ul Qoma. Or vice versa. Or, they could both be in the same city. It’s all a matter of perception. Citizens in each of the cities are taught from an early age to instantly recognize their nation’s style of clothing and architecture, their choice of vehicles, their mannerisms and accents, and “unsee” all those that are distinct to the other city. Thus, people have to ignore (or, unconsciously maneuver around) half of everything they see and hear outside, unless they happen to be on a street that is fully part of their own city. If they don’t unsee such things, they’ve committed a crime, and are at the mercy of Breach, the entity in charge of policing such violations. Add in the fact that the majority of the main characters have names like Tyador Borlú, Lizbyet Corwi, and Qussim Dhatt, and you may begin to realize why I initially had trouble getting into the story.

However, once I was finally able to get past all that and begin to understand the myriad of complexities involved, I began to enjoy it. For me, the mystery itself often played second fiddle to the peculiar world Miéville created. As for the characters, the majority of them were relegated to third fiddle.¹ Few possessed enough personality to really stand out without being thrown into some unusual set of circumstances.

Also, I rarely, if ever, saw the twists in the narrative coming. This was partly a product of the unique world Miéville invented, but it was also because he provided little in the way of tangible clues. Inspector Borlú’s revelations come in clumps, rather than at a slow trickle, and seldom because evidence points him in that direction. Nevertheless, each twist exhibits Miéville’s inventiveness all the more, and messes with the reader’s perceptions of perception. Sure, some of my questions remain unanswered,² but I like books that screw with your head a bit.

The City & The City isn’t your traditional mystery, and at times, that aspect of it may leave you wanting. Nor is it what you might expect from a sci-fi/fantasy novel. (It sure wasn’t what I expected.) But with a fair share of both genres, and a whole boatload of originality,³ it’s unquestionably an interesting read.

Rating:

¹ Barely a notch above viola.
² How do you tell if a foreigner is in your city or the other? And what of casual photography? It’s not like you can Photoshop someone or something out of your picture if have to unsee them as you’re doing so...
³ Just don’t look at the boat. It may be in the other city.