Unfortunately, in the continuation of that saga, there are so many contrivances to keep the story moving, many of them directly contradictory to what we know of our hero, that for established fans this is bound to be a disappointment. The problem is that discussing them in any detail will result in multiple spoilers, something I won’t do.
To begin with, we know Pendergast had to know going in that the trip to Scotland proposed by his brother-in-law was a trap, yet for some reason he wasn't intelligent enough to wear the bulletproof vest he did remember to put on later in the book. To further complicate matters, the authors have reintroduced a character from one of the earlier books whose only reason for existence appears to be to get into trouble and, perhaps, giving us someone else to worry about until the next book comes out
Then there is the conclusion—one can’t call it an ending, since it’s another cliffhanger—which is clearly set up for precisely that purpose, and which requires behavior so totally out of character for even an average law enforcement officer that one is tempted to wonder if Pendergast has suffered severe brain damage as a result of his previous injuries.
This isn’t to say there aren’t good moments, and there are some great action scenes. Also, a surprise development introduced in Fever Dream receives another hint that all is not what it seems. Granted, that, too, was no doubt assumed by longtime fans. I suspect therein lies the problem with a long-term series—the faithful know the characters so well it’s all but impossible to convince them those characters will behave in a, well, non-characteristic manner.
Overall, although the underlying conspiracy theme of the book has potential, I’ve ceased to care what really happened to Helen Pendergast. As endearing as Pendergast’s search for his lost soul mate might be, it really doesn't have enough meat to it to support three novels. One can only hope that the barely discernible suggestion she has some importance to the new conspiracy will evolve into something stronger. As it stands, she comes across as mostly a useful tool for keeping things moving.
As a writer, I can well imagine that after this many episodes in the Pendergast saga Preston and Child may be getting a little burned out. I noticed the same problem with F. Paul Wilson’s Repairman Jack series, the last one of which suffered from the same problems exhibited by this book. Preston and Child released what will probably be the first in a new series that shows some potential, although I found the protagonist rather lacked the qualities that make for a character able to support a series. On the other hand, Gabriel does have lots of room to grow.
So, although fans of the series should probably read this one and probably will for the same reason I did, it definitely lacks the quality of the previous installments. I think we’re hoping that what now appear to be weaknesses in execution are, in fact, leading us in directions other than the ones we believe we’re going.
- Mood:
disappointed
On top of that, I chaired this year's ArmadilloCon here in Austin, which was fun but a major time-suck in August. So now, like the Red Queen in Through the Looking Glass, I'm running twice as fast just to stay in place.
I'm really excited about our most recent new books. First was the English translation of Dutch author M.W. Maryson's award-winning Unmagician trilogy, The Towers of Romander. Although I'm as fond of fast-paced fantasy as anyone, sometimes it's nice to kick back and enjoy a book where things travel at a more leisurely pace, a welcome characteristic of much European speculative fiction.
In this case, it's by sea on a watery world where an ancient evil is rising to devour everything. Literally. And the only one who can apparently stop it is a boy with no magical talents at all. You can sample it here.
Then, for something completely different, came Toto's Tale, which is just what you'd expect from the title--The Wonderful Wizard of Oz from the dog's point of view. This delightful take on the classic story was co-written by historical romance author Kate Dolan, as K. D. Hays, and her then-11-year-old daughter Meg Weidman. The hugely talented April Martinez did the cover and illustrations, and noted SF writer Catherine Asaro contributed an introduction. We're planning some fun with this one. Check it out.
And just out this week, a strange little debut novel by Alex O'Meara, Bad Day for the Home Team, which explores the question What makes an average guy murder 40 strangers then kill himself? Deeply ironic, and just a bit creepy, O'Meara's dead mass murderer follows a police detective, an ambitious reporter and his own brother, trying to find out himself why he did what he did. The answer he discovers may say more about us than it does about him. Sample Bad Day for the Home Team.
- Mood:
excited
That Mr. Brown is a moderately talented writer and that his book had nothing to distinguish it other than a controversial theme and breakneck pacing mattered not a bit. People raved about what a great book it was.
It wasn’t. Neither is this one. In fact, The Lost Symbol is essentially The DaVinci Code rewritten to encompass a new topic--Freemasonry in American history--and a new location, Washington DC. Other than that, it’s pretty much the same tale, with the same stock characters.
Somewhat ironically, Zumaya Enigma, our mystery/suspense imprint, released a true crime book at about the same time this one came out that actually has a basis in Freemasonry and the occult: Unveiling the Enigma: Who Stole the Hands of Juan Peron?
Let me be clear. I’m aware there are thousands, if not millions, of people who consider Mr. Brown and his works to be the superb reading material. I don’t happen to be among them, because I prefer my plots have some basis in reality and the characters who deal with them (a) be interesting and three-dimensional and (b) not pause in the middle of a hair-raising situation to expound on some academic/esoteric topic because that information is the only thing driving the plot. That Mr. Brown’s villain, in this case, might have been extracted from any of a dozen SyFy Channel B-movies doesn’t help.
So, if you can put up with the mind-numbing lectures on Freemasonry, American history and architecture, you’ll probably have a fairly good time reading this latest adventure. On the other hand, there’s a new Dean Koontz out, and Stephen King’s Under the Dome, which I’ll be discussing as soon as I get through it.
- Location:Austin TX
- Mood:
bored
The challenge with trying to review a book by the inimitable Terry Pratchett is finding something to say that hasn’t already been said. The man’s unquestionable skill as a writer and the extensive body of his work makes it all but impossible to say anything about a new addition that hasn’t already been said—often.
I had the pleasure of receiving an advance copy of the newest Pratchett, Unseen Academicals, from the publisher, Harper. And trust me, it was very much a pleasure because once again Mr. Pratchett has cast his sharp eye and even sharper critical skills on two cultural phenomena that cry out for both--organized sports and the groves of academe.
Frequent visitors to Discworld are familiar with Unseen University, where the best of the world’s wizards, warlocks, sorcerers and magicians impart their wisdom whenever unable to avoid doing so and occupy the remainder of their time ensuring they do not suffer from malnutrition or lack of beverages suitable to accompany their comestibles.
In the mean streets of Ankh-Morpork, meanwhile, the citizenry engages in what passes for regular games of foot-the-ball, a game of long standing which leaves few of its players in the same position. In fact, football, as played in Ankh-Morpork, is essentially a gang war with cheerleaders.
It would seem these two societies would never have occasion to meet, but that’s not how Mr. Pratchett works. No, in Unseen Academicals, the faculty of UU are informed their steady supply of dining pleasure is based on an endowment that requires the university engage in a sports competition at least once every twenty years or lose their funding. And the twenty years since the last engagement are just about up.
The quartet whom we follow through the madness that follows are an engaging and eclectic group: Trevor Lively, whose late father was the last man to score four times in a game--and was killed in the process; Nutt, an alleged goblin who works with Trevor in the cellars of UU as a candle-dripper; Glenda Silverbean, the supervisor of the UU Night Kitchen, and her beautiful if not terribly bright neighbor, Juliet Stollop.
Many writers in the satirical vein would have left Juliet as she first appears, which is as someone for whom the term “dumb blonde” is high praise.
“Juliet was still reading as they waited for the horse bus. Such sudden devotion to a printed page worried Glenda. The last thing she wanted was to see her friend getting ideas in her head. There was such a lot of room in there for them to bounce around and do damage.”
Reading that might incline the reader to judge Glenda harshly, but that would be leaping to conclusions. Glenda is the kind of earth-mother character many either have in their family or wish they did--the steady-minded, practical, efficient woman who may not heap praise on your head but will always be there to bandage the hurts and fight for justice when the world turns against you. In her view, she’s not judgmental but clear-sighted, seeing both the virtues and flaws in those she loves.
“She didn’t have a career; they were for people who couldn’t hold down jobs.”
The pivotal character, however, is Nutt. He is a mystery, a creature clearly not human placed into service at the university by powerful people for reasons even he doesn’t seem to understand. It would seem that being a pivot is precisely why he’s there, not just to drive the story, with all its many threads, but to bring about the growth of those who come to care about him despite his differences.
“He was good at liking people. When you clearly liked people, they were slightly more inclined to like you. Every little helped.”
Nutt is the icon of the underlying lesson of Unseen Academicals. All of the varied threads and subthreads focus on the simple yet hard to implement idea that judging people on their surface appearance--whether it be Nutt or Juliet or even the seemingly “normal” Trev and Glenda, is shortsighted. In a world where people are deemed threatening solely on the basis of the color of their skin or their country of origin or their religious beliefs, this book warns that we risk depriving ourselves and our world of not just the wonderful uniqueness of the individual but also of any contributions they might make to society as a whole.
However, another lesson lurks in the alleys of Ankh-Morpork and the labyrinthine halls of Unseen U. That lesson is that sometimes what we tell ourselves is practicality is, in fact, fear of stepping beyond our comfort zone to see just what we, and those we care about, are capable of. If we trust and believe in ourselves, if we step beyond our self-imposed limits, we may just discover there really are no limits to what we can achieve.
- Mood:
enthralled
No one is ready and willing to defend the right to free speech more than I am. However, this statement by Ms. Jones is, to me, a prime example of when commitment to a principal not only steps outside the boundaries of common sense but suggests a certain lack of good manners with regard to the feelings of others.
You see, my response to that rhetorical question is: Yes, we most certainly are, if we know that response could result in harm to others. I have historical precedent for that statement.
It’s said that Henry II, frustrated beyond reason by opposition from his former friend the Archbishop of Canterbury, muttered within earshot of some of his men “Will no one relieve me of this troublesome priest?” Happy to oblige, they promptly stabbed Thomas a Becket before the altar of Canterbury Cathedral.
History also records that Henry accepted a humiliating penance, taking full responsibility for the death of Becket. Whether or not he actually believed he deserved to be punished only he knows. However, the point is made: we are, indeed, responsible for what we say or write if it results in someone being hurt or killed.
Yale Press made its decision after consulting both publishing and security experts, and chose not to republish the cartoons in the book in question because they were concerned, and for good reason, that doing so could incite violence. There was, in fact, violence engendered when the drawings first appeared as well as during the heated debate that followed over whether they should have been printed in the first place, given the current global political situation. Some time later, a major publisher chose to cancel publication of an equally controversial historical novel by Ms. Jones in which the wife of Mohammed was portrayed in a way those same devout Muslims would have found offensive.
Both times, the give-me-free-speech-or-give-me-death contingent screamed foul, and defended the position that choosing not to publish something that is established would offend a particular group is censorship and nothing short of cowardice.
This is the response of people safely ensconced in a country where sudden death at the hands of a suicide bomber isn’t a daily occurrence. It’s an intellectual argument that refuses to take the reality of our modern world into consideration despite the sharp image of the Twin Towers crumbling into dust.
Would these same people leave a bottle of sleeping pills where a suicidal person would be sure to find them? That’s different, you say? Not really.
To a devout Muslim, an image of the Prophet is blasphemy. It is to them no different than painting a swastika on a synagogue or performing a black mass in a church. To use that image in the way it was done in the Danish cartoons is so offensive there are no words adequate to describe it. What can possibly be served, then, by deliberately reproducing them many thousand times more than they already have been?
Censorship is a terrible thing. However, the word and the concept are diluted and cheapened when they are applied indiscriminately and without regard to the fact we are, in fact, responsible for what results from what we say and write. Yale University Press has decided there’s nothing to be gained by offending millions of people yet again and, perhaps, more to lose than they wish to be responsible for.
Where I come from, that’s called courtesy, not censorship.
Ms. Jones cites the support of Peter Mayer for Salmon Rushdie's The Satanic Verses and the fatwa issued by the Ayatollah Khomeini. Apparently, the fact an innocent person--the book's Japanese translator--was killed for that decision, which it should be noted he had no choice in making, is mere collateral damage, as were injuries suffered by others for the cause. That kind of total disregard for the human factor in order to proclaim one's commitment to a principal is fine. Principles are important. Sometimes, they're more important than people.
However, the people they're more important than should have the right to choose whether they want to sacrifice themselves for the cause. The cemeteries and mass graves of the world are full of those caught in the crossfire when a battle over a principle exploded.
Sometimes, there is no choice. One has to defend free speech or some other inherent right without compromise. Choosing to publish or not publish a drawing, the absence of which in no way detracts from the content of the book that discusses it, doesn't fall into that category.
- Mood:
pensive
I am not God. Nor am I a goddess nor the Lord nor the Supreme Being. I am not the Creator. I am not the Divine Spark, nor the Ultimate Entity that runs the show. I am certainly not the Cosmic Big Kahuna.
I am a cube of orange-colored gelatin the size of an average throw pillow.
From the Introduction: Milky Way Marmalade by Michael DiCerto
- Mood:
bouncy
If you love military SF and kick-ass heroines, stop by and see what TIGRA HAS TO OFFER.
- Mood:
excited
Who else but Mame Dennis? In a world where we're constantly reminded that we have to be practical and serious, Auntie Mame is a bright light that illuminates all the possibilities that lie outside those limits. Who better to have with you when all everything seems to be at its worst?
JOIN CHESTER AARON THIS SUNDAY ON PODCAST RADIO
Judy Gregerson hosts Zumayan Chester Aaron, internationally known expert on garlic and award-winning author of Garlic Kisses, Whispers and Willa's Poppy on Sunday, 10 August, at 2 p.m. on her Podcast radio program The Real Connection.
Join Judy and Chester by signing in at The Real Connection for THE MANY FACES OF SURVIVAL.
Dachau Liberator, medical whistle-blower, award winning writer, college professor and world renowned garlic farmer, Chester Aaron talks about the hard choices he’s had to make, why he made them, and how it’s changed his life.
Mr. Aaron was recognized by the National Endowment for the Arts, and received the Huntington Hartford Foundation fellowship, which was chaired by Aldous Huxley and Thomas Mann. He also inspired Ralph Nader to expose the over-radiation of blacks in American hospitals.
Now Mr. Aaron is a world-renowned garlic farmer who spends his days writing about the liberation of Dachau. He is 86 years old and he has a thousand stories to tell. Although he has published more than 17 books, he is still writing more and looks forward to publishing again soon.
Hasn't happened yet--must be my nature spirits outrank his.
At first, I was inclined to think it was just that, like Rodney Dangerfield, we digital publishers couldn't get no respect. However, as I talk to other people involved in the publishing industry on the business side, it seems there is plenty of cluelessness to go around. Given how competitive it is trying to get published, why would any aspiring author deliberately alienate someone who might, given the right manuscript, help them achieve their goal?
Are you in publishing? Got a good war story to tell? Want to share it? Can you beat being threatened with the wrath of Native American demons?
- Mood:
surprised