Friday Review Post, 10/15/2011

Maybe I should just move my Friday post to Saturday? Anyway, four books this week:

Emily Diamand - Raiders' Ransom

Lilly is a fisher girl in a post apocalyptic England. The exact basis of the apocalypse is never made clear, but it is presumed to be global warming combined with some sort of computer virus. Much of England is under water, London in particular. Technology is largely banned (except in Scotland, where they use solar power and such.) Scotland has expanded southward to swallow up most of the island, leaving only ten counties of England in the extreme south. I'd love to post a map, but I can't find one. Anyway, a raid by pirate/vikings from the fringes of Scotland occurs while Lilly is out at sea. She returns to find that the daughter of the English Prime Minister has been kidnapped. In an effort to avert a war, in which her sweetheart has been forcibly enlisted, Lilly sets out to rescue the Prime Minister's daughter.

The plot was satisfying, although not particularly deep. The writing was good, the characters were enjoyable. I would, perhaps, suggest that this was a little younger than most young adult books - 12 or 13, rather than 15-16, say. Good world building - the setting is several generations post-disaster, and Diamond has clearly thought through what that would mean in terms of culture and society. Highly recommended; I've grabbed the sequel.

David Liss - The 12th Enchantment


Mr. Liss continues to be a very dangerous author. This is pretty typical of his work - a complex historical drama with strong characters, a twisty plot, and excellent writing. Set in England during the height of the Napoleonic Wars, the book tells the story of Lucy Derrick. Lucy, an orphan, is dependent on the good will of her uncle (who is not actually her uncle, but rather a distantly good friend of her father). She is engaged to be married to a local industrialist; the owner of a cloth factory who is plagued by Luddites. Lucy's plans are complicated by the sudden arrival of Lord Byron. Byron is incoherent, spitting up pins, and tells Lucy that she must not marry her industrialist, and that she must "gather the leaves". With the timely intervention of a local woman schooled in magic, Lucy removes a curse from Byron, and finds herself plunged into a dense conspiracy. This conspiracy involves fairies, the Rosicrucians, ancient vampires, and alchemy, and it unfolds delightfully into a deeply convoluted but entirely satisfying plot.

Some reviewers have found Liss' use of magic to be distasteful. Liss' other works tend to be less ... fanciful, perhaps. However, given the setting, the conflict between magic and technology is entirely appropriate. The inclusion of Byron and, later, William Blake, did not bother me either. If you are going to write a novel about mystical politics in Regency England, Byron and Blake are bound to show up (as are the Rosicrucians, naturally). I think this is clearly a case of "you got fantasy in my historical fiction!" "no, you got historical fiction in my fantasy!," and, ultimately, the merger works remarkably well.

This, by the way, was the book that my wife kept stealing last week. She also enjoyed it, especially the way that the plot built and expanded and grew increasingly more complex the further into the book she got.

Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl

Artemis Fowl, scion of the Fowl crime family, billionaire, and 12 years old. In an effort to restore his family's fortunes after the untimely death of his father, Fowl devises a scheme to extort gold from fairies. What ensues is a complex narrative of double-crossing and high technology, mixed with fairy magic (and fairy technology, which is often the same thing).

I can see why the books are popular, and there's nothing really wrong with the writing. I just didn't really like the characters. The narrator is clearly sympathetic to the fairies (the book is supposed to be an official report on Fowl), but the fairies are hard to like. Fowl is presented as evil (although he clearly isn't), and I couldn't find myself rooting for him either. Perhaps my problem is a timing thing - this clearly compared poorly to the Liss. I may try the next on my next research trip - as fluff, the books might work.

Steve Turner - The Band that Played On


A delightful history of the band from the Titanic. Turner was commissioned to write a book to catch the wave of the Titanic anniversary. Telling the story of the band which continued to play as the ship went down provides a new and interesting entrance into the well known story of the ill-fated ship Turner had his work cut out for him, though, because we don't know very much about the various members of the band. As such, this was a fascinating book on a number of levels.

On one level, this is a retelling of the story of the Titanic. One of the reasons that the Titanic continues to grab our attention is that it's a great story, and Turner works with that. He doesn't go into a great deal of detail about the nature of the ship, the technical specs, or any of that - as he points out, there are plenty of books about that. Instead, he discusses the lives of the band members, explaining where they came from, why they were hired to serve on the ship, and what, potentially, motivated them to sacrifice themselves as the ship sank. Turner tells a compelling story of heroism in the face of tragedy.

On another level, this is a story about music and management and the business of luxury cruise liners just prior to the First World War. In his narration of the lives of the musicians, Turner discusses where they would have played before serving on the Titanic, and uncovers a world of public musical performances in which world class musicians become ornaments for hotels, resorts, and the cruise liners which serve as both hotel and resort. Turner discusses the agents who hired musicians for the great cruise lines. He also touches, a little, on the business of cruise liners, discussing the rivalry between the Cunard and the White Star lines. What was the purpose of the Titanic? Bruce J. Ismay was clearly responding to Cunard's Lusitnania and Mauritania, the two fastest cruise ships in the world at the turn of the 20th century. The White Star Line decided it could not compete in speed, so Olympic and Titanic were not as fast, but were far more luxurious. As the most luxurious ships, they needed the best musicians.

On a further level, this is a story about how to do history. How do you re-construct the stories of eight people who were famous for a brief moment, but were otherwise not considered worthy of remembering?  Each of the musicians had a family, one was married, several were engaged to be married, at least one had a child. Turner looked at the letters and telegrams that were sent to the family members, before and after the disaster. He considered newspaper reports about the earlier performances of the musicians. He looked at play bills and reviews of their performances. Ultimately, he pieced together eight lives, based on solid but fragmented evidence. This is one of the things that historians do.

On a final level, Turner engages in the prominent debate over the band - what they played as the ship went down. According to legend, the band played "Nearer, my God, to Thee" as the ship began it's final plunge.  The newspaper reports of the event refer to this, based on the testimony of numerous survivors.  Monuments to the musicians often included reference to this song. The song was performed at the funerals of the musicians, and at concerts to commemorate the disaster. In their effort to raise money for the families of the musicians, the Amalgamated Musicians Union (AMU) printed a collectible poster with pictures of the eight band members and a verse from "Nearer, my God, to Thee." Several thousand copies of this poster were sold, and the money was given to the parents and sweethearts of the musicians.

Despite this clear connection to the hymn, there is continuing doubt over the performance.  Several of the survivors insist that the hymn was not played - that the band played popular music while the ship sank, and that a hymn would have reminded people of their mortality and caused panic. The hymn was not in the collection of music the band was commissioned to perform on the voyage. Further, there were at least three different versions of the hymn, none of which were alike, and yet American passengers, British passengers, Methodist and Anglican passengers all asserted that they had heard the hymn. All of this calls into doubt the possibility that "Nearer, my God, to Thee" was performed. Perhaps it was just one of those things - one person said they heard it, and suddenly everyone remembered hearing it.

Turner argues, quite persuasively, that the hymn was probably performed. He states that there were, in fact, four versions of the hymn, and that the fourth version was a popular (not a church) arrangement, which would have been relatively well known on both sides of the Atlantic, and across various denominations. Wallace Hartley was the band leader. His father was a choir leader in a Methodist church. Hartley's father was known to love "Nearer, my God, to Thee," and Hartley was quoted (after the disaster, certainly) as having said it was his favorite, and that he wanted it performed at his funeral. Turner contends that the band began playing hymns after the last life boat had been lowered - that is, at the point when it became clear that the band was going to go down with the ship.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter what the band played - but that's what makes Turner a historian. This is the other thing that historians do; we argue about things that no one else really cares to argue about. It makes sense that the band played "Nearer, my God, to Thee," it also makes sense that they didn't. There isn't anyway (short of time travel) to resolve the issue. This is the sort of argument that historians thrive on, and the way that Turner presents his argument is an example of excellent historical craft.

I would recommend this book to anyone who is already interested in the Titanic. I would recommend it to budding historians. I would recommend it to people who like a gripping story of doomed heroism. This is a fine example of the intersection of popular and scholarly history - easily readable, yet well researched - a book for professionals and amateurs alike, and all around well written.

Friday Reviews, one day late, 10/1/2011

It's still Friday somewhere, right? No? That's no how that works? Ok, sorry, I'm late. There was this disc of Hustle, see, and ... never mind.

Three books this week.

Adrian Burgos, Jr - Cuban Star


This is the story of Alejandro "Alex" Pompez, owner of the New York Cubans, one of the founding teams in the Eastern Negro League of baseball. Burgos is trying to do a couple of things with the book. On the one hand, he is trying to tell the story of a deeply complex individual. Pompez was, in addition to being a team owner and promoter, a moderately big wheel in the Harlem numbers game - an illegal lottery which was hugely popular in the 1910s and 20s (and beyond, no doubt.) Pompez was also a big supporter of Latino rights in an era before Latino rights (or Latinos, as such) existed. He crossed boundaries of race, class, and legality, and operated in a number of different worlds with a high level of comfort and skill. He was, in short, a fascinating guy, well deserving of having his story told.

At the same time, Burgos is attempting to redeem Pompez. When Pompez was inducted into the Hall of Fame, there was a huge outcry, because of his involvement in illegal gambling. Burgos argues that most of the Negro league teams were founded on some sort of illegal gambling, because they couldn't have made a profit otherwise. If what Burgos says is true (and I have no reason to doubt it), then denying Pompez entry into the Hall of Fame on the grounds that he engaged in gambling (unrelated to the game of baseball, it should be noted) is tantamount to denying the entire Negro League entry into the Hall of Fame. Which would be wrong on a number of levels. Defending Pompez, then, is a noble goal, and well worth doing.

The problem is, Burgos doesn't do a good job of either thing. The book is poorly organized. Each chapter covers a specific time period, but within each chapter, Burgos wanders from period to period. In one paragraph, he'll be writing about Pompez' childhood; in the next, Burgos will be discussing the views of a Cuban patriot from a decade earlier, and in the next paragraph, Burgos will be recounting Pompez' involvement in Cuban identity politics from a decade on. The whole thing doesn't hang together well. It's like Burgos did a lot of research on his topic, and is so excited about sharing it with his readers that he can't get his facts in a proper row. It's very disappointing.

I got two chapters into the book, and started the third. I announced that I would give it a last chapter to get into some sort of rhythm. And then, the book got left in the car, and I was too apathetic about it to go and find it. (The car was in the driveway, so finding the book wouldn't have been a big deal.) When I discovered that I had, in fact, brought the book inside, I couldn't be bothered to continue with it. Not a good sign.

Cherie Priest - Hellbent


This is the sequel to Bloodshot, Priest's new series of vampire caper novels. In the last book, Raylene was hired to steal some medical records, and ended up with a huge mess involving the US government. The book ended with a lot of loose ends. Raylene ended up with an interesting group of folks living in and around her Seattle warehouse (full of ill gotten goods).

This book tells a pair of stories, linked only by Raylene's involvement. The stories are told concurrently. On the one hand, Raylene has been asked by one of her regular clients (an aquisitions guy at an auction house in New York) to "acquire" a box of very rare baccula - penis bones. These baccula are from extremely rare creatures - werewolves, djinn, griffins, etc. They will fetch a very high price from the right client, as they are useful for amplifying magic. As is often the case in a caper novel, the acquisition of these baccula becomes exceedingly complicated, with a mentally ill sorceress getting involved.

The other story is a somewhat more straightforward story of vampire politics. Ian, one of the cast of characters acquired by Raylene in the last book, gets a call from his old House in San Francisco. They need him back; the "judge" has died (head of the House), and Ian is next in line. For reasons that I won't go into (because they would spoil the first book), Ian can't got back to San Francisco, and so Raylene goes instead to see if she can't sort things out. It turns out that the Atlanta House (known for its random and sudden violence, and considered quite powerful) is involved. Which is interesting - the ex-Navy SEAL drag queen's sister was involved with the Atlanta House, and is now missing.

Priest does a good job of not letting one story get in the way of the other, and weaves them together into a satisfying whole by the end of the book. Everyone comes away from the experience with part of what they wanted going into the experience, and noone is entirely happy with their cut - this is also typical of a caper novel. The humor in the novel (most caper novels, in my experience, have a strong dose of humor) comes largely from Raylene's self-deprecating snark. I can see how some readers might find this a little off putting, actually. I don't think I could read several of these books in quick succession - Raylene's voice could easily become grating. In single book doses, however, it's amusing.

Priest has become very good at working deep ideas into typically shallow genre novels, and this book is no different. Priest explores ideas of mental illness in our society, contrasting Raylene's self-diagnosed OCD with the schizophrenia of the sorceress, and considering how their mental issues have affected who they are and the lives they live. Priest suggests, as always, that it is possible to tell a good story AND have a strong social conscience. More - she shows that by combining story and social conscience, both become stronger and more effective. It's this sensibility which makes Priest a must-read, regardless of what she's writing. More, please!

Eoin Colfer - Plugged


This is Colfer's debut adult novel. It's billed as a crime caper novel, and I think that's actually a false billing. A caper novel should involve some sort of overly complicated scheme to steal something. It should involve some sort of "crew" organized to engage in this theft. At some point, the plot should go off the rails. Everyone should finish the novel with a piece of what they went in looking for. Potentially, humor should feature. This is not a caper novel. It is a light noir novel, and it's a very good light noir novel.

The book tells the story of Daniel McEvoy, formerly of the Irish Army. McEvoy saw service as peace keeper in Lebanon, two tours of duty which leave him with some interesting neurosis. He has since found himself in Cloisters, New Jersey, where he works as a bouncer/door man for a sleazy nightclub/casino. McEvoy finds himself trapped in a horrible mess when the club hostess he has a tendre for is found dead outside the club. As he attempts to find out what happened, he is quickly embroiled in several plots involving a small time mobster, a dirty cop, a clean cop, a lawyer with pretensions of criminality, and his upstairs neighbor, who things McEvoy is her husband.

So, what makes something noir? As far as I'm concerned, a noir story (stoiry?) features a character, almost always male, who finds himself increasingly in over his head in a situation not under his control. The hero will have a tendency to use violence to move the plot forward. The principle character is often a detective (not in this case), trying to get to the bottom of a mystery so that people will stop trying to kill him. His investigative style tends to be "bust some heads, ask some questions, then go looking for more heads to bust." Sort of the "What Would Batman Do?" approach to solving a mystery. The hero should spend at least a little time unconscious. In the end, the protagonist might solve the mystery (or have it solved for him), he might end up in a better situation than he began in, or he might be dead. This book definitely qualifies. It's "light" noir because there is a heavy dose of humor here - noir fiction is often fairly unrelenting in its gloom, and this is not. There's plenty of blood and violence, but McEvoy maintains a fairly light tone throughout.

The only problem with this book is the marketing, frankly. The cover tag is "If you loved Artemis Fowl ... It's Time to Grow Up." I think that was a mistake. The less attention called to Artimis Fowl, the better. I think, if your previous experience with Colfer is his Artemis Fowl (which are YA) books, and you expect this to be like those, you will be shocked and disappointed. The jacket matter suggests that the book has "extreme raunchiness" (from the Kirkus Review) - and I think that's probably only true if you are expecting it to be like Artemis Fowl. For a noir novel, the raunchiness is entirely appropriate, and not extreme in the slightest. Ideally, perhaps, Colfer should have published this under a different name (perhaps "Eoin Colfer, writing as Serious McNoir", or something of that nature, to both use the known name and distance the novel from it). In the end, it's a good book, and well worth a look - but it's neither Artemis Fowl, nor is it raunchy.