Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Lost in a Good Book by Jasper Fforde





Title: Lost in a Good Book
Author: Jasper Fforde
Publisher: High Bridge
Rating: worthy

This audio novel is read by Elizabeth Sastre.

After a sad disappointment in the first novel in this series, The Eyre Affair, I'm hoping for a lot better in volume 2. Failing that, I'll ditch this series and move on to something else. I have to say I was surprised by High Bridge, the audio publishers of the copy I got from the library. When I went to their website to reference this novel, I could find neither the title nor the author anywhere on their site! That's why Barnes & Noble gets the book link.

I was really slow in getting up to speed on this one because of Thanksgiving, but I picked up the pace today and didn't regret it. This one is much better than The Eyre Affair, at least through the first half-dozen chapters. It's much more interesting and a lot funnier, particularly the Hispano-Suiza episode. Of course it doesn't hurt at all that Elizabeth Sastre (not to be confused with Doctor Elizabeth Sastre of the Vanderbilt university medical school) is intelligent, playful, sly, sexy, and a little bit giggly. I love this representation of Thursday.

There's apparently a plot afoot in this novel to assassinate Thursday which, if true, cannot be allowed to succeed under any circumstances! Even if I quit reading the series I would feel saddened if she were not out there somewhere, even if it's just fictionally! The plot comes to a head when the Goliath corporation removes her husband Landon from time, leaving her pregnant in a time when the father of her child died at the age of two! Their plan is to have her free Jack Schitt from Poe's The Raven where she evidently imprisoned him at the end of the last novel, but she has no means to travel into fiction any more, so what's a girl to do?

Fforde continues to exhibit the occasional problem with the English language. For example, at several points, he writes of the Goliath corporation starting his sentence with "Goliath are..." whereas it should be "Goliath is…" At one point (I think in chapter eight) he writes that some people "...leaned forward imperceptibly..." - and this in a novel which is narrated in first person PoV. If the movement was imperceptible, how did the narrator detect it?!

Fforde also seems not to quite grasp a crucial principle of the geometric theory of gravitation, published by Albert Einstein in 1916. People who are undergoing acceleration perceive the effect as gravity. An acceleration of 1G will be indistinguishable from Earth's gravity to those experiencing it. Therefore passengers availing themselves of Fforde's gravity drop transportation system - even if it could be built through Earth's core without melting, and without killing travelers from radiation - would not experience free-fall because of the acceleration!

Finally it looks like I'm getting to the very reason I decided to start this series in the first place! Thursday gets an "in" to the magic library! I was not at all impressed by the disaster of the Cheshite Cat, but I did like Mrs Haversham and the Red Queen - particularly the enigmatic Red Queen, and the whole episode with Spike on the Zombie hunt, which Thursday volunteers for so she can pay her rent with the overtime-rate cash was hilarious.

And this was too much! I went to open the file for this review and this is what I found in the folder listing:

Thursday on Thursday! How sweet is that? Must be a good omen!

This one managed to hold my attention and amuse me. It's still not as good as One of Our Thursdays is Missing but it is a worthy read.


Forgotten by Cat Patrick





Title: Forgotten
Author: Cat Patrick
Publisher: Egmont
Rating: WORTHY!

This novel is about London Lane (kewl name!), a mid-teens woman who cannot remember a thing about her past (her memory blanks at 4:33am each day, and yes, there's a good reason for that), but she can see events from the future and actually retain those memories. If that isn't intriguing enough to make a person read a novel, I don't know what is! It certainly pulled me on board, and the really good writing kept me there and buzzed me effortlessly through the entire novel. I absolutely love novels like this one and treasure them because they're so rare.

The good news: no prologue. The bad news: first person PoV. Bad news ameliorating news: in this case, I tolerated 1PoV really well because of the quality of the writing. The point-of-view actually fits the story to begin with, and it was so well done that it was neither onerous nor stupid. Even the rather tropish guy (Luke Henry) is acceptable, and there's also a best friend who is, as usual, vying with the main character for my deepest affection. Her name is Jamie Connor. So Cat Patrick manages to get away with including more than her fair share of YA tropes in the novel, yet not a single one of them is like iron nails on a chalk-board to me because of how understated this is and how well it's put together. I'd advise any aspiring writer to read this story to imbibe the sheer skill of its construction. Yes, this is me, YA trope hater, saying this story went there, and got away with it, and I loved that Cat Patrick got away with it.

London's life is beset with hassles because of her condition, and not only the memory thing, but also her condition of being in her mid-teens in high school with all the issues that typically entails even for every-day run-of-the-mill students. There's the difficulty she endures with Jamie, there's the question of why Luke is a blank in her future. There's the creepy question of the nonsensical funeral which London starts remembering, and there's the unnerving secret of what exactly happened in the parking lot of the supermarket that day when she was traveling with her dad - a dad who is no longer in her life. Can the hard-won and comfortable bits of London's life survive a huge disagreement with her best friend who refuses to listen when London tells her she knows how this will turn out? Can it survive an breech of trust with Luke? Can it survive both? Can London, even a little bit, change the future she remembers so accurately? And just what secrets has London's mom been keeping?

London's biggest problem (to begin with) is that even though she can "remember" the future, Luke isn't in it. How can this be? It's a puzzle to her. I suspected many things of Luke at that point (that he might be a past-forgetter, future rememberer like London, that he might be a bad guy, and so on), but I'm not going to tell you how right or wrong I was in any of that speculation! And yes, on the down side, there were some issues I had with the story, but these paled to insignificance, as the saying goes, in the brilliant glare of the consistently high standard set by the writing in this novel

Patrick did an amazing job of portraying London's struggle, and the tricks she uses to get through her oddball days. Her descriptions of London's daily travails at school are a pure joy to read. But the story doesn't end there (nor did it begin there!). There is mystery to unravel, and Patrick includes just enough of that supernatural element to give the story zest, but not anywhere near so much that it lards the story up with the unnecessary or the distracting. Patrick is all about story, and this novel is a tour-de-force of professionalism, brilliant narration, and magnetism that sucked me in and refused to let me out until the epilogue was done.


Saturday, November 23, 2013

Cain's Blood by Geoffrey Girard

Rating: WARTY!

The premise of this story is exactly the same as its partner, Project Cain, of course: that military-funded scientists have recovered DNA from serial killers (both living and dead), and are breeding clones of those killers intent upon finding weapons. The asinine "logic" of this premise is discussed in my review for Project Cain. Well the title Cain's Blood might be unique, but there's a half-dozen novels which are variants on "The Blood of Cain", which means it's well beyond cliche class and into ludicrous by now. If it goes any further, it'll be plaid.

The basic story is the answer to the question: what would happen if we cloned famous serial killers of history and raised those children in a variety of environments? Would they all turn out just like the original killers? Could we use them as military weapons?

The short, sensible answer is "No, of course not, because you cannot duplicate the exact circumstances of the genetics and raising of any one of them to begin with!", but Girard disagrees. His downright stupid premise is that these clones would turn out exactly like the originals, even to the point of, for example, John Wayne Gacy dressing as a clown - in his teens yet. Girard further concluded that these murderers in the half shell would be happy to join a serial killer boys' club and hang out together, plotting and organizing their gory rampages as devoted teammates. It was at that point that I quit reading this novel, my stomach in equal parts doubled-up with laughter and with nausea. I refused to finish something as amateurish, ignorant, and confused as this is.

Girard's premise at first blush did interest me, and I liked the idea of having two novels on the same topic from different perspectives. This may have been done before, but if so, it's not anything I've encountered, and if so, having had to wade through this effort has cured me of any desire to seek out other such pairings! I also liked the idea of having a clone of a serial killer who would (no doubt!) turn out to break the mold.

The bottom line, though, is that Girard failed, and dismally so, to carry through with his premise in an entertaining way. Instead, he blundered blindly into poor genetics, he sowed the story with pretty nauseating and gratuitous violence to no constructive purpose that I could see, and as if that wasn't bad enough, he frequently ventured into complete absurdity with his interpretation of how these clones would behave. I can see an amateur, writing his first novel, slipping into this, knowing no better, but I do expect better from a professionally published writer. I have to ask, yet again it seems, what has happened to book editors, when we get sad efforts like this one appearing in hard-cover from a recognized publishing house?

I do not like either title (that is 'title of the novel', not 'title as a short-hand for the entire novel', although that's also true), and with regard to the other one, I started also disliking the novel itself rather intensely, so I put it on hold and switched to this one. The plan was to read this to the point where I stalled in the other one, and then try to read them concurrently, but the other novel was so badly written (it's one tedious and never-ending teen-angst whine) that I was sincerely hoping that this one would be several leagues above the other if I were going to finish either of them. It failed to meet that hope and expectation.

The other novel tells the story from a YA perspective (the main character is a sixteen-year-old). This one tells the same story from the perspective of one of the investigators, Castillo, and thankfully this one was absolutely not a first person PoV - a format I am learning to detest with increasing acerbity with every novel like Project Cain that I make the mistake of reading. The first thing I learned is that Girard is yet another writer who doesn't grasp the difference between 'titled' and 'entitled', but given how dynamic language is, I guess it's not surprising, especially these days. The two will be as interchangeable as flammable and inflammable before so very long.

One more question: what's with the 'Cain' reference? Obviously it's Biblical (and this is confirmed in both novels), but I think Girard is missing the point made in the Bible. Let me clarify one thing before we start: I see no reason whatsoever to take the Bible literally. I take it with a pound or two of salt (Lot's wife notwithstanding as a pillar of the community) There never was any Adam or Eve. The Bible confirms this because those names are generic Hebrew words meaning earth (or red earth) and life. Nor was there an Abel or a Cain. And BTW, all the names you think you know from the Bible are wrong, some of them completely so. For example, anyone who is praying for something in Jesus's name isn't going to get anywhere, because there is no character called "Jesus" in the Holy Bible. Jesus wasn't his name. The mythical Messiah's name was actually much closer to 'Yeshua'. It's really the same name as 'Joshua'.

By that same token, there was neither Able nor Cain. There was Hevel and Qayin, and these names were actually derived from their occupations. Ibil (Hevel - Abel) means herdsman, and qyn (Qayin - Cain) means metal-smith (yes, the Bible lies! Is that a surprise - honestly?). The Bible confirms this when it declares that Cain gave rise to the bronze and iron-working industries in the Middle East though his descendant Tubal-Cain. There are many different views of this story and its meaning, as wikipedia makes clear, but the bottom line is that the Bible talks out of its ass: the story ultimately has no more meaning than your average fairy-tale. It's just something religious nut-jobs made-up to try and gain control of the population by some means other than the ballot box. They're still pursuing this same failed ploy today in the USA.

This story all harks back to the last few verses of Genesis chapter one, where the Biblical god declared that we should all be vegetarians, but humankind fell from that lofty goal and became carnivores. That was the real "fall of man" Abel was a representation of the carnivores, herding sheep and killing lambs for sacrifice to a god; Cain was the metal-worker who no doubt forged the very sword which he then used to slay the heathen Abel. But honestly, who actually wants to worship a god which demands that you slaughter and burn animals, and which finds the stench of burned flesh pleasant? I'm forced to wonder if a god like that found the odors at Auschwitz II - Birkenau pleasant, which would explain why he never lifted a finger to stop the slaughter of his chosen people, would it not?

So Cain slew the carnivore and thus struck a blow for the original wish of this god: that we should all be herbivores. That would also explain why the Hebrew god of the mountains rejected the death penalty and didn't harm Cain. On the contrary, he freed Cain and sent him out to evangelize the vegetarian lifestyle, and even put a mark on his head to protect him from harm! How's that for forgive and forget? You'll note that despite having the ability to resurrect Abel from the dead, this god chose not to do so. What more proof do you need of his complicity in this crime? Once again a god gets a human to do his dirty work for him!

As an aside, I do find it hilarious that in a nation like the USA, sixty percent of the population, all of them no doubt believers, reject forgiveness, and reject their god's decision here (to free the murderer), and instead demand the death penalty. But religion and rationality are not the best of bedfellows, are they? Not that I'm advocating freeing murderers, understand! I'm merely commenting on how completely absurd religion is when you look at it through rational eyes. I have yet to meet a religion which actually makes sense.

So, enough of a digression (but what am I expected to do when Girard rambles on about Cain, names two novels after him, and has yet to explain what that has to do with anything else he's written in those novels. Cain may have been a killer, but he never was a serial killer, so if this were a court case, I'd be the one calling out, "Objection, your honor: relevancy!" Anyway, I am done with this pair. I couldn't face going back to the whining teenager in the other novel, and I've grown so bored and disillusioned with this one - to say nothing of becoming really tired of Girard's over-the-top, salivating relish of gratuitous violence and appalling absurdity (the teen John Wayne Gacy is already wearing clown outfits! Really? Really?) that I really cannot stand the thought of reading another page when I have so many other novels inviting my attention. This is a warty one (or two)!

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde





Title: The Eyre Affair
Author: Jasper Fforde
Publisher: Audible
Rating: WARTY!

This audio novel was very ably narrated by Susan Duerden.

I've already reviewed Jasper Fforde's Shades of Grey and One of Our Thursdays is Missing, both of which I found hilarious.

Unfortunately, this novel fell far short of those two; after I'd listened to the first disk I was not impressed at all. By the end of the first disk in One of Our Thursdays is Missing I was already searching the car for my ass, which I'd laughed off. I couldn't find it, so I had to laugh that off, too. Did I make a big mistake in starting the Thursday next series not at the beginning? Is disappointment and regret going to haunt me over this? Only Time Will Tell, and the next edition of that magazine isn't due for a while....

Disk 2 was better, but it still wasn't funny; it reads (listens?) just like a regular thriller. I can now understand why people who read the series from the start suddenly took a dislike to One of Our Thursdays is Missing, because it was really quite a departure from the format of this, the first novel in the series. I think If I'd started this series where it ought to be started, with this volume, I might not have even ventured far enough to read that latter novel, having seen what the earlier ones were like, so I'm glad I read that one out of order! By the time I reached disk 6 (60% in, in ebook terms, around page 210 in real book terms) I was really beginning to tire of this. Yes, it had some lol moments, but in general it was a bit tedious, with nothing very funny happening in general, and nothing really engrossing going on at all. Thursday Next is merely going through the motions, and it was neither a thriller nor a mystery at that point.

In this novel, Thursday (the real world Thursday, that is) is up against Acheron Hades, an arch villain who seems to be able to change his physical appearance at will and at whim, and who is evidently immune to bullets - unlike Thursday who ends up in hospital, shot twice by Hades. Her life was saved by a copy of Jane Eyre which was in her "breast pocket" and which stopped the bullet. This is particularly meaningful to Thursday, because she recalls, as a child, visiting the British Library where the original handwritten copy of Jane Eyre resides, and she ends up in the novel briefly. It was her very presence which caused Rochester's horse to shy when he first meets Eyre! It's also an important point because later, Thursday ventures into Eyre (which in her world does not end like it does in ours) and changes things around a bit so it has the familiar ending. It was that which was championed in the blurb and it was for that reason that I wanted to read it. Unfortunately, the blurb once again lied! More anon.

After Thursday leaves hospital, having recovered somewhat from her, er, shooting pains, two bizarre incidents occur. In the first, she sees her older self in a car, and that other self warns her that Hades is still alive (contrary to police reports that he died in a car accident) and that she should take a job in Swindon, even though it's something of a demotion for her. She resolves to take this advice. She also learns that a man helped save her life after she was shot, and she has reason to believe that this man was Rochester from Eyre. No, not from Eire, from Eyre.... So yes, not at all funny, but really interesting!

As I continued to listen in on Next's adventures, I did grow very fond of Susan Duerden's reading, but even that endearing and warming voice wasn't enough to keep my interest in this novel. While there were some very good bits, those were few and far between, and that far between was filled with tedious run-of-the-mill story-telling which seemed to be going nowhere, and which held no interest for me. As I mentioned, I was looking for the trip to Eyre (not Eire! I've already been to Eire), which refused to turn up!

The most LoL moment, I have to say, was on page 82 where Thursday is accosted at Swindon airport(!) by two students who are handing out anti-Crimea war propaganda. Thursday speaks first:

"I'm not here with the colonel. It was a coincidence."
"I don't believe in coincidences"
"Neither do I. That's a coincidence, isn't it?"

But you have to hear it from Duerden, I think, to really feel it in your funny bone like I did! Contrastingly, there is some really bad writing cropping up, such as, in the chapter header quotation for chapter 20. I routinely skip those things in novels having no interest whatsoever in chapter header quotations, but Duerden reads them, so I was forced to listen. In the real book, Fforde writes, "There are a superabundance of these in the English language." and this is what Duerden read, and I have to say that it's a shameful display of poor grammar from a professional writer.

So as I mentioned, at about 60% in I was tiring of it, and at 70% in, with no hint of Next's supposed visit to Eyre precipitating any time soon, I called it. The novel quite simply was not good enough for me to continue to wait for something to which I'd been looking forward since chapter one, and which the book blurb had quite puffed-up into a major part of the novel. It evidently was not. Would it happen in the next paragraph, or would it not come until the last chapter? The suspense was boring the pants off me (not a good thing to happen whilst driving, let me tell you.... I just lost interest in waiting. And waiting. And waiting. I'd understood that Next would go into Eyre and hilarity would ensue. It hasn't. Not by that point, and I was tired of sitting around wasting my time until it did. Life's too short to waste on un-engaging novels when there are so many out there (in my to-read list at right) begging to be enjoyed!

Like I said, I loved the first two Fforde novels I read, but this one just wasn't in the same league as the others. I plan on reading one more in this series - the next one in line - but this one is a WARTY!


The Waking Dreamer by J E Alexander





Title: The Waking Dreamer
Author: J E Alexander
Publisher: Mechanical Owl Media
Rating: WARTY


DISCLOSURE: Unlike the majority of reviews in this blog, I've neither bought this book nor borrowed it from the library. This is a "galley" copy ebook, supplied by Net Galley. I'm not receiving (nor will I expect to receive or accept) remuneration of any kind for this review.

Alexander has deftly secreted his prologue away in chapter one. Finally! An author who gets it! I very much appreciated that. It is, however, still a prologue and by definition completely boring and typically pointless. The story actually takes off in chapter two and then it does take off, which I also very much appreciated. I loved chapter two. You could quite comfortably skip chapter one (aka prologue) and lose nothing by it. The problem is that it was all downhill after that, and I could not bring myself to continue to plod through this when there are so many other potentially great stories waiting for me to discover.

Emmett is a foundling, and he was supposed to stay with Nancy, his best friend since college, since she was his legal guardian (his guardian anyway) until his eighteenth birthday, but he did not get along with her husband, and he felt this huge need to leave Houston and go somewhere and do something. There is no good reason given for why he can't wait two more weeks, but the more I read about Emmett, the more I realized the truth about him: he's just stupid, and that explains it. The story really is no smarter than Emmett, either. It's basically your standard fight between good and evil under the ostensibly novel guise of Druids this time, but in this novel, it's nothing but fight, retreat, rinse, repeat, and it quite frankly was boring as hell.

The main character is Emmett (aka the deliberately-kept-ignorant chosen one), and he has a fascination with movies and is frequently quoting them, but instead of going to California and Hollywood, he heads to Florida in pursuit of his mother. I don't really get this, because we've been given no history of Emmett and no reason why he would do this. Chapter two is larded with movie references. I don’t get that either, and neither does any character in the novel, so I had to wonder what the point of that was, but taking that as a premise, as the author evidently wishes us to, why would he not go to California?

Chapter three begins with an unnecessarily detailed description of his route out of Texas and into Louisiana. It reminds me of the first draft of my own Saurus! I've traveled this route (both figuratively and literally!) and I can verify Alexander's descriptions, but it seems pointless, and I wanted it to be over. I'm not a fan of road trip stories, unless there's honestly something worth seeing, and in this case there really wasn't.

Emmett eventually meets Amala (aka the chosen one's babe, who is evidently a Druish Princess...), but we meet her as a child, right before he is born. She's a chestnut-haired child with a snake. She's accompanied by red-haired Rhiannon, her de facto mom (if not biological - it's a prologue, after all - why would it tell us anything useful?!), and a man named Oliver, who is possibly her father. They both disappear after the first chapter. The trio has arrived in a large city (which seems to encompass an improbably large number of abandoned buildings!), and are looking for something, searching in disregard of personal safety because the local gangs have learned the hard way to avoid this trio of Druids. Kudos to Alexander for taking this away from the usual suspects and introducing something which, while not new, is at least different, but he does nothing new with it, and worse, he lards up the story with so many other tropes and clichés that the novelty of this one aspect is sadly tarnished.

With the help of Amala's "wisdom" (the snake), they find the house they're looking for. It’s old, rotten, abandoned (of course), fetid and filthy, yet this is where the old woman they seek has chosen to meet them because she's birthing a child! Why? Why there? Again, no explanation. She's is in process of delivering Emmett - the eponymous waking dreamer - from a street woman who is evidently an addict and likely will die from this delivery. This woman disappears after the first chapter, too.

After the baby comes into the world, so does evil - "The Grinning Man" with the tired trope of red eyes, who wants to taste the child, but he's repelled into the darkness by the old woman - the Archivist, believe it or not, shades of The Matrix - because it’s not yet his time! When will soon be now? Since this blog is as much about writing as it is about reading, let me digress a minute and talk not so much about this novel specifically (I have read only fifty percent of it), but much more generally. I've always wondered why evil actually gets "a time". Even in the Bible, the Adversary is loosed ('cos he's a loser?!) for a spell after being bound for a thousand years. Why? Is 'Good' not strong enough to prevent evil's time? I find that sad (and in the Bible very revealing about how extraordinarily limited the god of the Israelites actually was)! I also don’t get the twin tropes of evil vs. good, and of prophecy. It's pathetic, but sometimes you can get a good story out of it despite the boring clichés; unfortunately, we don’t get that good story anywhere near often enough.

I don’t mind a story at all which has these elements if it’s well-written, but they rarely are. Instead, they regurgitate deathly-tired tropes without so much as a stab at logic, let alone justification. It would be nice to read something truly different for a change. But of course there must be the balance between good and evil, for without evil, how can we know good? You're heard that one, right? Well let me put in my too sensible no censorship two cents (my sense, too?) on that: I can tell how good a carrot cake is without having to have a large carrot forced up my ass first…. But that's just me, and I don’t like large carrots up my ass, but if you do, then by all means substitute something you really don’t like instead, even if it involves neither carrot nor ass, so you can make the same comparison.

Now, do you agree that we can tell good from evil without having to experience the evil? Do you agree that it’s possible, for example, to experience the joy of a good night's sleep without having to be forcibly kept awake for several days to contrast the evil of that with the good of peaceable rest? Of course you do. Can you experience the good of holding a baby or enjoying a young child's laughter without having to know horrid details of beaten, starving, and tortured, or murdered children? I can. I'm pretty darned sure that sure you can, too (two can?), at least if you're anywhere near "normal' (which I don’t even claim for myself!). So empirically, we appear to have proven beyond any reasonable doubt that you do not need evil to enjoy and appreciate good. Why is it that all-too-many writers cannot?

So we cannot seem to find a new angle here, and we cannot get away from mindless repetition. It's like a formulaic pop song: verse, chorus, verse, chorus, with not even a middle eight, and it's not appreciated precisely because it's always the same. Evil attacks, good retreats. Good is always limited, passive, and weak, evil is always powerful, aggressive, and sneakily unpredictable. Who wants to read something like that with no leavening at all? It;s made worse, if that's possible, by Alexander's spastic dedication to endless mystery, because no one will tell anyone anything, least of all explain what's going on to Emmett. Half-way through a novel I expect something to be revealed, but nothing is.

On page eight, "…her ophidian friend who raised its head…" struck me as a really weird sentence! You don't usually partner 'who' with 'its'! Interesting word usements he structures, as Steve Martin might phrase it. I've mentioned this before - and recently - but it bears repeating: the 'monkey' (as an insult to humans) trope has now officially been forcibly rammed tediously beyond tiresome and deeply into boring and unoriginal. Writers need to find something fresh to have spill from the mouths of their villains. For me, monkey isn’t an insult at all, actually, I'm rather proud of human genetic heritage.

Back to our story in progress: So Emmett, on his illogical and precipitous journey (we'll learn that Emmett isn't the stoutest stave in the rack), arrives in Florida late at night, running low on gas, and takes a sad-looking exit from the Interstate into the middle of nowhere to gas-up. Did I mention that this guy is pretty clueless? He's had all day to do this and he leaves it until he has no choice. Actually, I found that hard to credit and it hit me with the harsh realization that, yep, I am reading a novel. I hate it when the illusion bubble pops! Even if he were a complete moron, which he could well be, Emmett still would have stopped frequently for rest-room breaks and junk food binges. I can't credit that he would get into this situation ordinarily, so I have to conclude that he's stupid (and an ingrate it turns out). Of course, as a writer, Alexander has to get his character into some sort of position for the dramatic rescue to occur, evidently. I just think there were far better ways of doing it than the one we got! And it exposes the plot weakness: why did Amala and Kieran leave it until quite literally the last minute to rescue Emmett? Why have they been absent from his entire life until now? Again, No Explanation!

Like Batman and Robin, these two supposedly heroic figures spring from nowhere and take out Emmett's attackers. They save his life and this is where ingratitude sets in. Three days later he wakes from the attack in Oregon, diametrically opposite the corner of the country he was in, and he has not a shred of gratitude for those who helped him. Given his breezy personality from earlier chapters, I found this incredible, too, and another slap up-side the face reminding me, hey, no matter how immersed you were becoming, you're just reading a novel, just get used to it!

So what went wrong? Well, this story started coming apart big-time for me around chapters seven and eight. This is when they’re at Silvan Dea (which serves no purpose for me but to keep reminding me of Opus Dei - from Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code - for some reason!). To begin with, it had made no sense that Emmett was pissed off with the people who saved his life, but it made far less sense that these people quite literally explained nothing whatsoever to him despite repeated promises that all would be explained. If he were going to get angry, it would be at his nonsensically and deliberately being kept in the dark about anything and everything. But as I said, he's not exactly the most powerful wand in Olivander's. Oh, they do keep on telling him they'll explain, but they actually explain absolutely nothing ever. I'm fond of mystery, but mystery for the sake of being mysterious is bullshit. It did not increase my anticipation or pique my interest. Instead, it made me think "amateur" and additionally, I've started to dislike Emmett, which isn't a good thing if I'm expected to keep reading this!

On some minor issues, I don’t get Mrs Carmichael at the restaurant. She sounds British but there is no other indication of her origin. If she's American, her mode of speech is way-the-hell off! Neither do I really get Emmett's obsession with movies. It's never rationalized or justified. Yeah. I get that you give your character a quirk or two to make them memorable, or interesting, or intriguing, but this doesn't seem to be working very well here, especially when he persists in movie references with people who quite clearly are not getting a thing he's saying. This tells me that Emmett is both too lacking in empathy to note that his obscure references are falling on deaf ears, and he's also too stupid to adjust his interactions based on their reaction.

So at about one third the way through this, it had become a real slog to keep reading it. Chapters nine and ten revealed two facts to me: The Waking Dreamer owes a lot to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer TV show, and Alexander is yet another writer who doesn't understand that staunch ≠ stanch. I've seen this a lot lately, and not just in self-published books. Are there really that many illiterate book editors out there? While we're on this topic, I really don't see that "undulating" is a viable partner of "startling speed"! Yes, it's not technically wrong, but doesn't 'undulating' suggest something of a more steady, measured motion to you? It was that pairing of implied leisurely motion with the definite emphasis on speed which really struck me as bizarre, and pulled me out of the story again! Yeah, I may be nit-picking, but these things are important when there are so many of them hitting you one after another. I think any reader can forgive a writer a few faux pas, especially if the story is a good one overall, but even a good story is dragged down when so many writing issues crop-up in such a short space of reading time.

I like Joss Whedon well enough, although I'm not given to building shrines to him and worshiping him as all-too-many fans evidently do, but for some reason which I can't quite define, the Buffy series was nauseating to me. I think part of the problem at least was the bullshit martial-arts fighting against all-but-overwhelming odds in every-single-episode (not that I watched it, but I've seen enough bits and pieces of it to have the heavy weight of that distinct impression pressed sorely upon me!). The Waking Dreamer seems fond of ripping-off that aspect of it very addictively, and that's what ultimately turned me off this novel, not only for the tedious metronomic, absolutely unchanging repetitiveness of it, but also, with both the inclusion of this nonsense to begin with, and in the poor writing of it. For example, at one point we're told that the Druids who are fighting are a well-honed team working fluently together in the fight ("...one pushing forward as the other guarded their rear...", but very shortly afterwards, we learn that one of them is killed precisely because no one was watching his rear (and apparently his magic wasn't either)!

These people supposedly have access to powerful magic, but when it comes down to it, they're reduced to common bar-room brawling, and Alexander seems to have no abhorrence of describing it with relish and no small amount of salivation. For me, that both betrays and cheapens the magical aspects of a story. If Alexander wants to write fantasy, then bring on the swords and dragons and go at it with all of the trope brutality that genre implies (this is why I'm not a big fan of historical fantasy: it's far, far too clichéd), but if he's writing a modern magic story, then I don't get this medieval portrayal. Nor do I get why the Druids are so weak when they're in their own grove amongst nature, surrounded by trees! It's been pushed down our throat thus far that this is their "element", yet they're still at a huge disadvantage. If they were fighting in the city, this would make at least some kind of sense. On their own turf? Not so much.

The improbable fantasy elements in play here are exposed even further when Alexander uses a phrase like "vicious attack" in the midst of a fight wherein the aggressors have proven themselves beyond vicious already, and which is being pressed with no regard whatsoever for Marquis of Queensberry rules (or any other, for that matter)! How much more vicious could that one specific attack actually be? These attackers go to eleven! Or are we to understand that the attack up to this point was quite a mild one (as mindless, brutal, overwhelming assaults go), but that the blow which struck Sophie was a particularly naughty one? Did the attacker touch the hollow of her thigh, as the omnipotent god of the Hebrews did to overcome the mere mortal, "Old Man" Jacob?! That was vicious! How dare they?

And if it's down to brute-force fighting, why are the Druids not armed with automatic weapons? I mean for goodness sakes an M2 Browning .50 cal. machine gun would readily take care of these "Revenants" no matter what their numbers, so why employ an iron stave (and never a staff!) in the defense? Do machine guns not contain iron? In the absence of good sense, the Revenants win the day, forcing the Druids to retreat, so I guess the force was not strong with these Druids after all. I read no explanation as to why evil had become so powerful, nor why the Druids were so laughably weak, or why this battle between dark and light was even taking place at all, but it wasn't as sadly laughable as the character Ellie, who appeared from nowhere with brother Troy. Is she a "baby sister" or a "woman"? The two are not the same, but she gets both descriptions. Why belittle a woman in such an insulting manner, making her whimper, to boot? There was no need for that.

We go immediately from that to the prospect of them entering icily-cold running water and the immediate concern over Sebastian's open wound - like he'll bleed to death in the water. What? They weren't concerned about this before? If they were not, then there's even less need to be concerned about it here! The icy water will stanch the flow. Sebastian ought to be more staunch!

In the bigger picture, for Amala to expect that Emmett will have waking "dreams" (she means visions), and not even have the decency and courtesy to both educate him and to warn him about them is beyond irresponsible in the context of their circumstances. It’s not like there hasn’t been plenty of time for this. At that point I not only disliked Emmett, I no longer like Amala, who is way too mysterious to be even intelligible, let alone likable, but if the plan is to pair her off with Emmett, then they're made for each other, as clueless as they both are.

It was when Alexander started gearing up for version three of his titanic and brutal battle between overwhelming hoards of Revenants versus the handful of Druids that I said, "Check please! I'm outta here!" I see no point in beating my head against the brick wall that this novel all-too-rapidly became, when I can instead, dive into the warm, welcoming waters of something fresh and new. Time is short, but my patience is shorter! This novel is a confirmed warty! It's going nowhere and I'm going in search of something more entertaining.


Project Cain by Geoffrey Girard





Title: Project Cain
Author: Geoffrey Girard
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Rating: WARTY!

I review the companion novel to this one, Cain's Blood here.

Based on CAIN XP11, which according to wikipedia ran as four installments in a publication called Apex Digest in 2007, Project Cain is a YA novel set in the not-too-distant future which is paired with Cain's Blood a more mature novel about the same subject and which I shall review directly after I've read this.

A word on genetics. I don't know where Girard thought he was going by proclaiming that "gene xp11" has anything to do with serial killers or is some sort of 'anger' gene. Anyone who knows anything about genetics will also know that a single gene is rarely acting alone and rarely specifies a trait such that a change to that one gene will completely change that trait, which makes the mutant gene in X-Men absurd, of course. There are such genes, but more regularly, genes operate as part of a gene network which is tolerant of an occasional mutation, but yes, it can be disrupted, too. I know that xp11 has been implicated in renal cell carcinomas, for example.

The gene does appear on the X-Chromosome (hence the 'X' part of the name), but the one Girard refers to is actually not xp11, but xp11.3, gene ID 4128, as is shown in this map from Vanderbilt. This section does affect monoamine oxidase A, as Girard says, but it's not known as the anger gene but as the warrior gene, and wikipedia expressly argues against Girard's plot point in that, while MAOA does appear to have a connection with antisocial behavior, it has: "...had no statistically significant main effect on antisocial behavior. Maltreated children with genes causing high levels of MAO-A were less likely to develop antisocial behavior". Quite the opposite of Girard's premise! Note that Girard is writing fiction and can write whatever he wants, of course, but my point here is that if he's going to get into genetic details, then he needs to do a better job than he's done.

So, Project Cain is a military-funded research project whereby the DNA of serial killers is taken and cloned, so the military can raise a series of children who would grow to be deadly killers and therefore invaluable weapons. It's brain-dead, of course, because they can never replicate the circumstances of the childhood of those serial killers. They can try to emulate it, but this is not the kind of scientific experiment you can completely control - to say nothing of the appalling ethics of such a scheme. But this story focuses on one such clone, named Jeffrey Dahmer. Kudos to Alexander for taking the bizarre if gutsy step of making a serial killer (who's not Dexter Morgan) the hero of his story! It;s rather sad that he completely ruined his starting point by making Jeffrey the most irritatingly whiny-assed teen ever created by a fiction writer. For this alone I want tor ate this novel warty! This kid is endless nails on a chalk-board, which I guess is evil enough....

But having said that I have to ask: honestly? This story makes no sense at all, even assuming that, say fifty years from now, genetics would be advanced enough that cloning could be carried out with both a high rate of reliability and at reasonable cost! Why? The military already has trained killers, and they’re free! They're the volunteers who routinely sign-up for military service, and who are professionally trained with weapons. Some of these people are trained to be very deadly, extremely skilled, and highly efficient. They're called Army Rangers, and Navy SEALs.

How would a serial killer (who is highly specific about the targets he is willing to prey upon, all of whom have to have some real meaning to him) be of any advantage whatsoever in a military conflict? They would be as likely (if not moreso!) to kill their fellow soldiers as they would the enemy. From what I've read, most of them can only work alone, they need to get up very close and personal with their victims, and many of them want to be caught. I can’t imagine (unless the mission specifically called for it for some clandestine reason), that any soldier, and especially not a Ranger or a Seal, would want to be caught in pursuing their duties. I's sincerely hoped that Girard had much more than this to offer, but it did not look that way at all by chapter fifteen at least.

Other than that complaint, it is technically well-written for what that's worth. To be fair, Jeffrey does have some reason to be the way he is: his dad, who seemed superficially to be a decent, if somewhat remote dad, came to him one night and gave him a thousand dollars and warned him to stay away from DSTI - the corporation his father worked for. Then his dad left. Jeffery couldn’t find him anywhere. He came home to find people in dark suits hauling everything of interest - including every personal thing of Jeffrey's - out of the house. Jeffrey slept overnight in the emptied house, but was captured there the next day by a man called Castillo - the subject of the other book in this pairing.

Castillo isn't friend of DSTI either. He's ex-1st SFOD-D, and he informs Jeffrey that twelve kids were killed in a nearby boys' institute, with six more missing. Every one of those six was a cloned serial killer: David Berkowitz, Ted Bundy, another Jeffrey Dahmer, Albert Fish, Henry Lee Lucas (who may have been actually wrongfully convicted and who had his death sentence commuted by George W Bush), and Dennis Rader. Castillo takes Jeffrey for a ride-along to try and track down these kids - as well as find Jeffrey's dad.

Well, I reached chapter 15, and frankly, I'm ready to drop this novel like a not best seller, because I am so infinitely-SICK-and-freaking-TIRED of the whiny-assed self-pitying Jeffrey boundlessly, ceaselessly, constantly, endlessly, interminably, everlastingly, and self-perpetuatingly complaining about how miserable his lot in life is, and how everyone hates him, and how he's got nothing to expect, nothing to look forward to, nothing to hope for and nowhere to go, which is coincidentally exactly< how I feel about this novel right now! Actually, at this point, want Jeffrey to run into the six escaped serial killer clones and be hung, drawn, and quartered. I really do. To paraphrase Hannibal Lecter from Silence of the Lambs, it's the best thing for him really, his life is going nowhere! I detest this self-obsessed brat.

At the end of chapter 14, which was long past my due date, as rotten as I felt having read that far, I thought that just maybe there was going to be a sea-change, because as he was wandering self-pityingly around the motel trying to get into any room other than his, he saw a woman's body on a bed - with the face painted into a doll mask. Now he doubts his sanity. That's perfectly fair, because I honestly doubt mine for even reading as far as I did in this novel. But rather than have this tediously slow novel take off at that point, the very next thing which happened was that this worthless excuse for a teenager started right back into the whining again.

The deal was that I'd read these two novels consecutively. Scratch that. I am now starting on the other of the pair, hoping that that one is better than this one. When I catch up in that one to the point where I am in this one, then I'll try to read them concurrently and I'll try to finish them both, but I'm making no promises about either one of them, having suffered my brain cells being serially killed from the crap I had to wade through in the first fourteen chapters of this novel!

I finally decided to call this one - or more accurately, these two. After wading through pretty much the same pointless boring crap in the other one that I'd already waded through in this one, I could neither stand to read any more of that one, nor face coming back to the whiny teen in this one, so I decided to return them both to the library. Maybe someone else can benefit from them. I certainly can't; not when I have over a dozen books on my reading list on the right there, all of which offer a promise that neither of these books seems able to deliver on! This one goes down as a warty!


Monday, November 18, 2013

Starlet's Web by Carla Hanna





Title: Starlet's Web
Author: Carla Hanna
Publisher: Carla Hanna
Rating: WARTY!


DISCLOSURE: Unlike the majority of reviews in this blog, I've neither bought this book nor borrowed it from the library. This is a "galley" copy ebook, supplied by Net Galley. I'm not receiving (nor will I expect to receive or accept) remuneration of any kind for this review.

I have to say that my first impression of this novel was very poor and it didn't improve with the telling. Given that the novel is evidently rooted in Christian faith, I'm hardly surprised by that, but I thought it might be interesting or amusing. It isn't interesting. It is amusing, although I doubt Hanna intended me to find funny the parts which I do find funny!

This novel is not only about a shallow, spoiled, and privileged person, it's shallowly written, with the entire text being very nearly all conversation and offering little to no description of anything (except of people's bodies and faces). Even the conversation itself is shallow and superficial! I honestly didn't know if I could really read a whole novel written like this. As usual, I aimed to try, but I failed. It's kinda funny in a way because the novel is about an actor (at least Hanna has the wherewithal to dispense with 'actress', I'll grant her that), and the story is like a film script: it's all dialog and no exposition whatsoever. Everything is about Liana and she's incredibly selfish. There is no attempt to create atmosphere or offer any kind of imagery or scene-setting. It's all talk (and only talk about Liana and Liana's needs), all the time! She's a child actor who deludes herself into believing that she's "guarded and mature"! Not judged by her behavior she isn't! Not even close. Not remotely.

I was amused by the title of this novel which made it fun that I started to read this on the same day I also started to read Undead and Unwed which also amused me with its title, but that novel leaves this one coughing and hacking in its dust. It's equally amusing that I'm listening to an audio book at this time, as well, which is almost entirely description, in counterpoint to the endless dialog of this novel! That one bit the dust, too.

The first chapter is called "The Uary Months" which is amusing, I'll grant (subsequent chapters are named after months starting in March), but I found a curious sentence on page 6, (oddly, page six is the first page) where the narrator (yes, another first person PoV unfortunately, but no prologue, thank the stars!) talks about her boyfriend, mentioning that his father is a professor of literature in Paris so his son grew up around the performing arts. I honestly don’t see that that follows! I see that it can follow, but not that it must.

The novel is about Liana Marie Durglo (stage name: Michael) who evidently has a perfect life, living large in Hollywood and expecting a win at the imminent Golden Globe awards or the subsequent Oscars (stage and screen awards are handed out in the uary months), yet she's whining constantly about how badly done-to she is! Honestly? The very worst thing that can happen to an actor is that they have to live the same kind of life that the rest of us do, and they whine about their life? I'm sorry but they chose their life, just like artists chose theirs, and dancers chose theirs, so I really don't care that they're not happy with their lot. I really don't.

Liana Marie Michael is on a daytime soap, which should tell you all you need to know about her professional standards. Her costar is Hollywood pretty-boy (and also her boyfriend). His name is irrelevant, because he's entirely interchangeable with two or three other pretty-boys, not one of whom admires Liana for anything she carries above the level of her eyes (and I don't mean her hair!). OTOH, she quite obviously has nothing but bone above her eyes, so I guess that's fine. Another costar is her mom's best friend. Obviously something is going to go wrong here. I have to say, in a nod to full disclosure that I do not watch soaps and cannot stand them. I don't watch globs of TV, but I do have shows which I am or have been rather attached to, which I try to blog on my TV page, but of which I've done a very patchy job so far. This is a book blog after all. Everything else is just accessorizing!

The powers that be in the lives of Liana and Pretty-Boy #1 (PB1) have decided that to make people less resentful of Liana's beauty and success, and to have PB1 appear more studly, the couple must break up, with him cheating on her with some generic "actress" #1 (GA1), so that Liana will garner the sympathy vote. That's the plan, and PB1 is already on board making out with GA1. I guess that tells us all we need to know about him! Liana is really no better, running immediately into the arms of her lifelong best friend, another stud whose name is irrelevant in a story like this, let's face it. Call him PB2, but he pushes her away. Literally. A third generic stud (PB3) tries to bed her, and she goes part of the way and then runs out into his bathroom to throw up and cry, before calling and waking up PB2 so he can call a taxi for her, to take her home. Just how selfish and inconsiderate is this supposedly Christian wench? She can't call her own cab?! What a bitch!

This girl is so ill-prepared for her life that this story has to be a joke. Her mother was an actor herself, so she knows what's going on in this life, so where is her mother's thinking at? Liana is completely at a loss to cope with life and she's seventeen already. What was her mother doing all those years to leave her daughter so crippled? Oh yes! Acting! Liana is whining that's she has taken on too much and is also whining about a huge contract she's about to sign. If you want out, don’t sign it! Then she whines that her mother is making her do this. Why does she never pray for guidance? None of her life is about her god! Instead, it's all about guys. She cannot survive without having some guy to cling to. What a weak and vacuous person she is! She behaves like a thirteen year old: her entire life is guys; she has absolutely no other interests whatsoever! How shallow is that?

I ask why she doesn't pray not because it would do her any good if she did (nothing fails as spectacularly as prayer), but if she's a Christian, why doesn't she, as the song goes, "...take to to the lord in prayer"? She never does. She has a therapist! Again, why? Isn't her god her therapist?! For that matter, why is she in acting to begin with? That seems to me to fly completely in the face of what being a Christian means: she's promoting shallow beauty over character and substance, she's obsessing over her own failures and desires instead of focusing on the needs of other people. Instead of being devoted to serving her lord, she's devoted to subjugating herself to a man, any man, if he feels right. She has a line of shallow accessories she's purveying, but that's fine because ultimately, she's purveying the shallowest thing of all: herself. She claims she's not a trophy, yet she's so into winning that it’s truly sad. When she does win her trophy she leaves immediately, not even caring who else did what at the awards!

And what’s with this "I'm so alone!" bullshit? Is she a Christian or not? Is Jesus her personal savior or not? If she's so full of faith, how can she claim she's lonely? The god's truth is that her religion isn't cutting it, which isn't at all surprising. It's failing her dismally in fact, and nothing is going to fix this: not prayer, not Bible study, not church-going, not spiritual so-called guidance. Nope, the only church Liana actually needs is the Holy Fellowship of Our Lady of the Get Your Bone-head Out of Your Dumb Self-Obsessed Ass. If she's a believer and her god is omnipresent, I don't get how she can be in such a constant state of bleating about how lonely she is. Here's the answer, Liana: you have no capacity for empathy, or for sharing, or for giving, and yet you demand that everyone else give to you and share with you. It's really no wonder at all that you have no friends!

I reached a point where this Christian, who quite evidently hasn't a Christian bone in her body, despite her being a massive bone-head, was obsessing over whether or not to double her twenty-five million dollar net worth. You can argue that she turns down that contract, but this does nothing to do negate her chronic materialism, because even after that she and Manuel borrow a Porsche to go to her high school prom. How's that for a example of show-off, and tell?!?

It turns out that Liana has a pituitary tumor, but even this isn’t the problem it would be for anyone else. She has millions in the bank! Nothing is a problem for her, she gets everything, yet this spoiled brat can’t stop whining about her life! Here's another laugh: even though she's eighteen at that point, her doctor insists upon telling her mom and dad everything about her case without even asking her if that's ok. That doctor needs to be struck off.

One of the end papers of the novel states, "Liana Marie understands the web, but understanding herself has just begun. What happens next?" My answer to that is "Who cares?" This novel sucks. I rate it WARTY, and contagiously so.


Anil's Ghost by Michael Ondaatje





Title: Anil's Ghost
Author: Michael Ondaatje
Publisher: Random House Audio
Rating: WARTY!

This is read by actor Alan Cumming, who does a really decent job, but despite his best efforts, even he could not turn a pig's ear into a silk purse.

The story concerns Anil, a Sri Lankan woman who, having been living in England for most of her life, returns to her homeland to help unearth and identify bodies from the quite recent civil war there. Anil isn't her birth name. She bought the name from her brother with some cigarettes, and a bunch of other stuff including an unspecified sexual favor! Now she returns as an adult with academic qualifications, to dig up bodies, and we have to wonder what metaphorical bodies might be dug up too, as the sounds, smells, and sights of her surroundings begin to compete with her childhood memories for the reality trophy. Anil was interesting, but despite this novel's title, the story seems to be about anyone and everyone but her.

Poking around, perhaps where they would be better advised not to, Anil and her associate uncover bones, one set of which looks like its owner was murdered and mutilated (or perhaps tortured) and then dug up from their original grave and reburied in a government-supervised area. This is not so much a smoking gun as a smoking skeleton and Anil realizes how important it is. But who can she trust with what she learns?

I started out liking this, but during disk two it became bogged down in so much irrelevant descriptive prose that I started to gag. Ondaatje gives even Maestro Stephen King a run for his money for his astounding ability to run off at the mouth with endless, pointless, fruitless, clueless ancestral histories of minor characters. I went on to give disk three a shot (this is a very small disk set!) and decided that in order to give it the fair shot it richly deserved, I'd really need a large bore shotgun.

We all know for a fact that book blurbs lie deliberately and outrageously to defraud us into buying the palpable pulp and pablum they're so proficiently purveying, but despite that, I still hold out the hope that buried within those professionally generated stretchers might be a nugget of truth somewhere, and that the story might have something of that truth held deeply within it, but I failed to find so much as a glint of it here. Instead of pursuing the story of "Sailor", the skeleton they found, and which the blurb assures us would be pursued, the story degenerated into a series of rambling digressions which was in danger of putting me to sleep - not a state one wants to be in when one is driving. I was hoping this would do well, given the interesting and exotic beginning, and the fascinating character Anil was becoming.

I finally realized that it's called Anil's ghost because there isn't the ghost of a chance that we'll see anything substantial of her. It was a likable story and I'd have been immensely happier if it had gone where it lied it would go, or failing that, at least go somewhere interesting, so I could burnish it with the sheen (or is it the Estevez?) of my famed Appellation Contrôlée de Digne award.

Instead, it gets a major WARTY.


Sunday, November 17, 2013

Undead and Unwed by MaryJanice Davidson





Title: Undead and Unwed
Author: MaryJanice Davidson
Publisher: Penguin
Rating: WORTHY!

Here's an author not ashamed to have a dot net address, nor ashamed to have fun and poke fun. I normally detest vampire novels, but I couldn't resist this title! I got into this first volume (of what has become an extensive series) quite easily, and although I found some parts of it odd, I found most of it is very entertaining. The main protagonist is Elizabeth Taylor (no, not that Elizabeth Taylor), and her perspective on life is both feisty and amusing, as well as deliciously irreverent. She definitely has a peculiar PoV, and a distinct view of her place in life.

Or should I say: her place in death? One frosty night, she steps out to retrieve her cat from the middle of the street, whilst simultaneously forgetting to check for random vehicles sliding into her on the ice and propelling her into a tree. She wakes up in cheap clothes in her coffin and can't understand what happened; it's not so much the coffin which bothers her, but the cheap clothes...! At first, she thinks she's a zombie and tries to kill herself to complete her journey to Heaven. She fails. A little child leads her into the knowledge that she's actually a vampire, but she has a hard time accepting that because she shows none of the standard vampire allergies: to garlic, to churches, to holy water, to Christian crosses. She does have heightened senses, increased strength, and a great thirst, but she also controls that admirably.

She's infuriated that her detested stepmother stole her shoes and goes to retrieve them, thereby revealing to her family that she's a vampire. No one seems to think that's a big deal: not her father, nor her mother, who is living elsewhere, nor Jessica her best friend, who has bought her house and car and gifted them to Betsy so she can have a life. Or a death.

Betsy is lured out by a call from someone who seems to know all about her circumstances, and who promises to bring her up to speed on vampirism, but she's abducted before she can get there, and taken to the lair of "Nostro" in a cemetery, who is such a stereotype that she can't help but snort laugh after laugh at him. He's infuriated, but he can't stop her walking out. One of those who appeared to be in Nostro's crew, a tall handsome man by the name of Sinclair accosts her as she leaves, and though she finds him hot, she detests his behavior and throws him through a stone cross.... When Betsy gets cross, she really gets cross.

On her way home she encounters a suicidal doctor, Marc, about to pitch himself off a roof, so she tells him her story and talks him out of it. He promptly becomes her house-mate. It's supposed to be temporary while he finds himself a place to stay. Now we have all the trope demographics covered: Jessica is black and Marc is gay, while Sinclair, the buff vampire, is courting Betsy to garner her help in defeating the evil Nostro, and Betsy holds out until he gives her ten pairs of designer shoes, and then she's all in while still, er, keeping Sinclair out!

To cut a short story shorter (and not give away any more spoilers), I rate this a worthy read. Betsy is sneaky, sly, snarky, spunky, and hilarious. I love her attitude, and I enjoyed the plot. I plan on reading at least one more in this series to see how that goes, but I don't know if I'd want to read ten of these. That sounds like too much of a good thing.


The Vigilante Poets of Selwyn Academy by Kate Hattemer





Title: The Vigilante Poets of Selwyn Academy
Author: Kate Hattemer
Publisher: Alfred A. Knopf
Rating: WORTHY!


DISCLOSURE: Unlike the majority of reviews in this blog, I've neither bought this book nor borrowed it from the library. This is a "galley" copy ebook, supplied by Net Galley. I'm not receiving (nor will I expect to receive or accept) remuneration of any kind for this review.

If you liked E. Lockhart's / Emily Jenkins's The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks or her Dramarama, then in all likelihood, you'll adore this one as much as I did, because it's very much written in that vein, but be prepared for a rocky start. I did not like this at all for the first few pages (especially when one of the characters suggests dog-earing the page (on an ebook!), but it was interesting enough that I stuck with it and I was well-rewarded.

The story concerns the amusing and disturbing situation which a high school (academy if you will) gets itself into, when it allows a TV station to stage a so-called 'reality' show using students as characters. Some of the school students not involved in the show, notably: Luke, Elizabeth, Jackson, and the narrator, Ethan, find it reprehensible that the show is such a farce and is detracting from academic standards, and is also imposing censorship on independence and creativity since slowly, everything in the school is becoming subjugated to the TV show's needs, and the fat bucks it generates, which are rolling into the school's coffers (supposedly). What a great premise for a story! And Hattemer doesn't let it down.

These four students decide to do something about this dismal situation, but misdirection, sadness, betrayal, and somewhat hair-raising escapades are in store for these guys as they try to rebel against it, and then start digging into the mismanagement (which they uncover) of both the show and the funds it generates. There's some sly humor and amusing situations, and a really touching romance which blossoms. Now that's the way to write a YA romance. Seriously. There are too-many ham-fisted YA writers who honestly need to read this novel just to learn how to do it.

This turned out to be yet another novel wherein I discovered a supporting character who actually interested me significantly more than the main character! I'm doomed to read novels like this - especially first person PoV novels, which is another reason to detest them! This novel curiously has three endings, none of which are very dissimilar, and none of which is the ending I was hoping for and expecting. Of this, I have to relate some disappointment. Maybe Ethan actually was as dumb as I feared he was! Actually, more accurately, maybe he just wasn't as smart as I hoped he'd be. But a worthy read and an interesting variation on the E. Lockhart novels I mentioned in that the main character is male rather than female.


Thursday, November 14, 2013

Witch Child by Celia Rees





Title: Witch Child
Author: Celia Rees
Publisher: Random House Audio
Rating: WORTHY!

I picked this audio novel for two reason, first because it sounded interesting, of course, but what really won me over was that it's narrated by Jennifer Ehle. She does a fine job, too, of relating the tale of a fourteen year old girl, Mary Newberry who supposedly wrote this in her journal, which is how the story came to us - via its cozy little hiding place.

It would seem, from her website, that Rees has made a career out of telling similar stories (Sovay, Sorceress, Pirate!), and while I personally don't feel any irresistible urge to pursue them all, if they're as good as this one - as involved, as well written, as educational, and as surprising, I don't doubt that they are as worthy as this one is turning out to be. I don't do covers, because the author has no control over that whatsoever unless they self-publish, and this blog is about the novel, written by the author, not about publishers, editors or cover artists, but I have to ask, does the woman on this cover have the most amazing face or what?!

I have to say, the more I listen to Jennifer Ehle, the more she is giving Emily Gray a run for her money as my most adored narrator. Ehle has an advantage because I fell in love with her in Pride and Prejudice, so it's a compliment to Gray that she's still in the lead! Anyway, the young girl, Mary, is living in central England in 1659, and she sees her grandmother "tried" (and summarily, but not so merrily, hanged) for witchcraft, but she's spirited away right then by a mysterious woman who has the same color eyes and who Mary eventually realizes is her own mother. She's been rescued so she can be sent away to "the colonies" unfortunately, because it's not considered safe for her in England if Charles comes to the throne replacing the brief Cromwell lineage.

That seems a bit of an insult as well as Ironic, that May is sent from England to the new world almost like it's declaring England to be backward and primitive in its hanging of witches, and the USA is of course the most fabulous place ever. The irony lies in the fact that the ship Mary travels on docks in Salem, Massachusetts! However, it's some forty or fifty years before the witch trials, so she's safe for now, although her children may not be! The odd thing about this is that, after telling the story in a way that makes it look like Mary and her grandmother were perfectly normal people being very badly done to, we learn on the cross-Atlantic voyage that Mary does indeed have some power: the gift of foresight.

The voyage is a laugh as well as an interesting exposition of ship-board life and social interaction. I don't know what religion Rees follows if any, but it seems to me she is subtly slamming religious hysteria, as well as its blinkered intolerance and bigotry here when she describes the Reverend Johnson's insane blathering. Indeed, given that Johnson is a euphemism for penis, he's really the reverend Dick, and he's a decidedly nasty piece of work: a study in the worst aspects of blinkered religious intolerance. Eventually, they arrive safely in Salem (ahem!) and start life in the New World, but it's to be a short stay, because hardly have they "settled" there than they're heading west, inexplicably following the footsteps of Johnson and crew.

Mary's life seems to be one of endless journeying: from her home to a ship, on the ship to North America, from Salem to Beulah, from childhood to adulthood. She is under the charge of one of her fellow travelers (arranged by her mother) and makes a couple friends with other young people on the voyage. She also saves the life of a newborn baby, but not through any witchery, merely through smarts and experience, from helping her grandmother. We learn a lot, in a painless way, of how life treated people back then, and it's a little bit preachy, a little bit info-dump, but in general the story is very easy on the ears, especially with Jennifer Ehle reading it.

In Beulah, she finally starts making a life as an assistant to an apothecary, gathering plants, seeds, bulbs and herbs for him in the extensive forest, befriending a young native boy, and relaxing into her life, but even that's to be screwed up by Johnson and his narrow-minded dogmatism. The ending was a little sad, but I'm not going to tell you more than that! It was a bit like I expected, but not in the way I expected. I did enjoy this novel immensely.


Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The First Men in the Moon by H G Wells





Title: The First Men in the Moon
Author: H G Wells
Publisher: Phoenix
Rating: worthy

The movie based on this novel is reviewed here.

Yes, it is titled The First Men in the Moon and trust Wells: he's very exact about his title! This novel, originally published in 1901, is of course, very dated. The Moon has no atmosphere. No life exists there, but read in its context, it really is a charming story. I think it's also hilarious that this is published by Orion Books - a suitably space-worthy name!

I first got interested in this after I saw as a child, the movie which was based upon this novel. The movie parallels it, but not too closely. I've never read the novel before, however, so I decided it was time. The story is told by a man named Bedford, who has rented a cottage in the Kentish countryside to write a play. Through him, we learn of the activities of his eccentric neighbor, Cavor (Cah-vore) who has invented what he calls cavorite, a mineral which can effectively overcome gravity.

Cavor talks Bedford into going on a trip with him to the Moon. The flight is undertaken in a sphere, which has blinds on it in various places which can be raised or lowered to manipulate the amount of cavorite exposure. Wells's explanation for how this works fails immediately they enter the vacuum of space, because cavorite is supposed to work by making air above it weightless, and thereby forcing the object upwards into the vacuum created by the rising air. Unfortunately, there's no air in space (not at a density you'd wish to breathe, certainly, unless you can survive on a single molecule per billion cubic miles of space, or whatever the density is!) so it would cease to work there, but like I said, this is over a hundred years old, so you either go with it or it blows. I chose to go with it.

When they land on the moon, they discover an atmosphere there, and weird-ass plants which grow crazily rapidly when the sun rises and starts baking the surface, melting the "snow" which has been lying around overnight. Bedford and Cavor blindly start exploring, jumping, and wandering until they forget where they left the sphere, and because of the massive plant growth, they can't see it, either. While searching for it, they hear oddball noises in the ground and discover what they refer to as Mooncalves, which are huge slug-like creatures that graze on the foliage, and are tended by what Cavor refers to as Selenites (Moon natives), rather insectoid creatures which move around on two legs and are about five feet in height. These beings and creatures evidently live underground during the freezing Lunar night, which explains the noises the two humans heard - it was the massive sliding trapdoor opening to the underground world of the Selenites.

Becoming inexplicably ravenously hungry and thirsty, the two Earthlings feast on a mushroom-like growth they happen upon, and eventually become rather intoxicated by it, leaving themselves open to capture by the Selenites, thus becoming the first men in the Moon! Next follows a story which is rather different from the subsequent movie. It results in a "dramatic" escape and then a desperate search for the sphere which they left lying around on the surface (unlike in the movie) and which they absolutely must find if they don't want to freeze to death in the rapidly oncoming Lunar night. Bedford is a lot more heroic in the movie (especially on the poster!). In the novel he's portrayed as a rather self-serving and cowardly individual who abandons Cavor on the Moon and returns to Earth alone, with his gold crowbars and chain, becoming a man of means and substance.

Yes, he does have a vague sort of plan to return, but that's only for the gold, which Wells portrays as lying around on the Moon's surface as veins in Lunar rocks. That plan is scuppered by the loss of the sphere, which Bedford has no means of recreating. Unlike in the movie, He does hear from Cavor, who finds a way to communicate with Earth.

While this novel is very dated, I have to compliment Wells (who we all know was a woman - this is proven to my satisfaction by Warehouse 13...!) on his solid grasp of physics and of planetary mechanics. He puts all-too-many modern writers to shame. I recommend this novel.


Monday, November 11, 2013

Undone by Karin Slaughter


Rating: WARTY!

This was narrated quite adequately by Natalie Ross, but she's no Emily Gray. No one is! Except Emily Gray, of course.... What could be better than a murder mystery written by someone called Slaughter?! Well, it turns out, anything! Slaughter was actually the working title of one of my own murder mysteries which I hope to publish before so very long. This one, unfortunately, began in a way that made me dislike it and made me really feel that I wouldn't be around to hear the ending, but it got slowly better and I became ready to give it a fair hearing - quite literally! I should have listened to my first impressions.

The problem with audio books is that you cannot skip the prologue very readily. I hate prologues, but after skipping to track eleven (yes, it goes to eleven) and still finding no announcement of "Chapter one" I felt I had no choice but to listen to it otherwise I'd arrive at work having heard none of it, but what a waste of my time it was. Note that the tracks on this audio version are of the kind where there are ninety-freaking-nine of them on each disk, but each track is less than a minute long. I'm not a fan of that arrangement.

Given that both the prologue and first chapter were pure time-wasting bullshit and could have been entirely done-away with (for a murder mystery, you can do away with a lot! I mean, why not?!), I wasn't thrilled at that point. Had this been a new author, the publisher would have insisted upon it! Fortunately we can self-publish these days and don't have to kow-tow to those people any more, but this does, of course, not mean that every novel is going to be a classic, far from it.

So, finally we get to the mystery, but there's no murder yet! Interesting? Not really. A woman is hit on the highway. She's naked and wandering in the road. She's taken to the hospital where it becomes clear she has been held captive and horribly tortured by some utterly sick person. Detective Will Trent happens to be at the hospital when she's brought in, so he gloms onto the case with his partner, Faith, who happened to be a patient of Doctor Sarah who diagnoses her with Type 2 diabetes. This was wa-a-a-a-ay the hell too much Stephen King style (forget that these are merely notes to flesh-out characters, and include every blessed thing you ever thought of in connection with this novel actually in the novel thank you very much) back-story. I don't care about the life history and three-or-four generation ancestry of every bit-player in your novel. Just the facts, ma'am! Just the facts! And if you insist upon repeatedly including all that extraneous crap I will ditch your novel like it has King written all over it.

Day two of the Undone watch: I had to skip most of disk three as Slaughter got her ass in a sling with some woman going shopping for cupcakes at an ungodly hour in the morning with her toddler. This section was so unutterably tedious and so depressing that I simply skipped track after track after track to get away from it. I may have skipped something important in the process, but rest fully-assured that I am not going back to find it. No fear! Seriously, do I need to know that she got plastic bags, felt guilty, and instead of recycling them, she made things worse by simply tossing them into the trash, and then she undid the trunk of her SUV with a remote and watched it slide smoothly open? No! A thousand times no! Can we get on with the story please, instead of being force-fed yet another miserable lesson on how much you love to hear yourself write?

I also got to hear about Will Trent and his dyslexia. Evidently, Will is now part of the inevitable sleuthing series, and that's fine if you can get away with it, but must we hobble every single detective in every single novel with quirks? And if I have to hear any more about Doctor Sarah and her lot in life I will overdose this CD set with insulin. Can you imagine how godawful this would be if it were first person PoV?! I have a horrible feeling that Will and Sarah are destined to be together, which will favor her a lot more than it favors him. But the thing is, I started not to care, not even remotely, not even a little bit.

I reached disk 6 of this and could not stand it any more. The basic story was pretty interesting and I would have liked to have finished it, but Slaughter prevented me from doing this by her blind insistence upon larding up every corner of this novel with endless extraneous endless tedious endless mindless endless numbing endless boring endless gratuitous endless endless endless nit-picking details in the extreme. I had absolutely no interest in some peripheral character having a stain on his shirt or the life history of a cantankerous hippie witness. I was rendered into a state of completely detesting Doctor Sarah because of the endless maudlin horseshit of her pining for nearly four years for her dead husband. We're told he died in the line of duty and it's hardly surprising if his duty was living with this whiny-assed loser. Fine, make the point if it's relevant to the story, but then do we honestly have to re-live that same point over and over and endlessly over again every-single-time-without-fail that we meet this same character? Did the original hardback version of this novel come with a self-flagellation device?

If this were the last novel on Earth and I was desperate beyond description for a read, I would use the pages for toilet paper rather than read this crap. I'd rather read Charlaine Harris - that's how bad this volume is! To paraphrase Monty Python's Dead Parrot sketch, this novel has "...passed on. This novel is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late novel. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't recorded it on disks, it would be pushing up the daisies. It's run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-novel." And it came undone. Rest in Pieces.