So, I should probably let you all know what I've been up to. This week, as you know, I've been doing research at the Library of Congress. Which is to say, I've been staring into the Past, with only the barest of filters between me and the raw, unadulterated chronos. I've been reading newspapers from 1945 and 1946, hunting for evidence of ... well, wait - here, I can link you in, and you can share. Brace yourself, and then click here to stare into the past.
Historically, this is actually pretty exciting. It's one of those things where you can ask questions about a thing, and get into arguments about it which have no logical conclusions, because the event is far enough ago that it has no meaningful effect on the current period. My contention is that this movement forms an important link between the movement for women's suffrage and the movement against atomic bomb testing in the early 1950s. But it really doesn't matter - it's just cool to look at, on some level.
Anyway, that's meant that I've been reading a lot this week. Trashy books, as usual. Here's the rundown:
William Deitz - At Empire's Edge
Have you ever wondered why folks from the northwestern US are so mellow? It's because Deitz has been hoarding the region's supply of exclamation points for decades, and the scattering them through his books. Only the Typeset Treaty of 1872 (which concluded the short but vicious Newspaper War of 1872) prevents him from tapping the strategic punctuation reserves in British Columbia, for which we can all be grateful. Oh, also? Deitz likes sentence fragments. So, this is a book about the last surviving member of an elite space police unit, forced to track down a homicidal shape shifter before said killer kills an important member of the Uman Empire's government. Oh, and avenge the death of his buddies. It has a lot of exclamation points. And sentence fragments. To indicate excitement and tension.
The characters weren't bad, but the writing was appalling. Save it for reading while drunk.
Simon Green - Ghost of a Chance
I've contended that Green writes trashy books as an exercise in cynical irony. That is, he writes trashy books because he knows he can get away with it. Green's books often feel derivative, with overly complex plots (often involving time travel) and needlessly intricate inside jokes (like sharing characters across different story lines). At the same time, the books are exceedingly well written, as if Green recognizes that he's writing a trashy book, and has decided to write the hell out of it. As a result, the books are highly entertaining, if a little disappointing. I've often suspected that he could write classy books if he wanted to. This book was, actually, kinda classy.
A team of oddball experts descends into the London Underground to figure out why a ghost has taken over one of the stations. Another team of oddballs is also in the Underground, seeking knowledge for their own nefarious purposes. The two teams end up having to cooperate in order to defeat a really big, nasty thing. So far, so "seen it before". But, the ghost-y stuff is actually pretty creepy, and I kinda liked the characters (which is good, because there will be sequels). Green does a good job of setting up a new series with new characters involved in new stuff. It's not like any other urban (dark) fantasy (horror) stuff I've seen, and I actually kinda liked it.
Alex Archer - Rogue Angel: Sacrifice
Oh. God. This book was awful. I mean, the Rogue Angel series isn't exactly high art to begin with, but this one didn't even live up to previous lows. Anja Creed (wielder, for some un-specified reason, of Joan of Arc's sword) is in the Philippines, held captive by Abu Sayyaf terrorists. Except, sometimes, they aren't Islamic Fundamentalist terrorists. Sometimes, they are Communist terrorists, for no discernible reason. Then, she escapes, and meets an American sniper, who just happens to be in the vicinity. And they get captured by a tribe of Philippine indigenes, who want to sacrifice them to some sort of creature in a pit.
So, yeah. The book has strong racist overtones. all Muslims are terrorists, or at least all terrorists are Muslims, or at least they pretend to be Muslims when they aren't being Marxist. All exotic locales have some sort of indigenous tribe type which will sacrifice you to their pagan god. It takes an American to save the day, preferably by shooting a brown person. But it's all ok, because the brown person's family gets money! Yay! Also, the book is misogynistic - which, given that the central character is a strong, independent woman, is saying something. Anja spends a great deal of time tied up - in the first scene of the book, she's handcuffed. There is an entirely unnecessary scene in which she has to pee in the jungle. Which then allows a tracker to find her and the sniper - because her pee is especially woman-y. Anja's attempt to solve problems by not shooting brown people almost results in Manila getting nuked (how like a woman!) - luckily, she gets herself out of the way in time for the shooting to happen. There is no sex in the book (despite strong overtones of sex). At the same time, there is no strange gluttony on Anja's part - that must just have been the one book. For all that these books epitomize trashy books, I think I'll skip them for the next trip. You feel free to skip them too.
Janet Evanovich - One for the Money
I liked this one - it was funny, with a strong early-90's vibe. Stephanie Plum as lingerie buyer turned reluctant bounty hunter is delightful. I really liked the characters. The plot was satisfying. The setting was, perhaps, a little overly described - I don't need to know the brand of coffee that Stephanie drinks (ok, it wasn't that bad, but close). I'm also not all that interested in the process whereby Stephanie gets ready for bed, or for going out in the morning. Still, the detail was evocative of Stephanie as a character - she's the sort of person who feels it necessary to describe her breakfast to her audience, so, good craft?
Less forgivable - Evanovich does this thing where she re-caps the previous chapter sometimes, at the beginning of the next chapter - as if she assumes you didn't read the previous chapter. This is a little annoying. Deitz does the same thing, actually - this implies something unpleasant about the way that the author sees their audience.
Despite that, I did enjoy the book, and I will pick up another of these.
Jean Rabe and Martin Greenburg, eds - Steampunk'd
So - an anthology of totally new steampunk short stories. Some of which were really really good. I am, however, going to maunder about steampunk as a genre for a minute before I discuss the stories themselves.
Right. I've talked about this before. The steam refers to the use of steampowered technology. Generally, it means steampowered technology in a Victorian (or Victorianesque) setting, but the technology is closer to our current technology than Victorian - steam powered computers, for instance, or things to that effect. The punk, when steampunk is done right, refers to the characters using steam powered technology to subvert the dominant paradigm - either the dominant paradigm currently in effect, or the paradigm in which they, the fictional characters exist, or both. The best works struggle with both paradigms. A story which doesn't struggle, though - that's just steam. Call it techno-Victorian, perhaps, or neo-Victorian, but it's not steampunk.
See, the thing about steam power is that it happened. The industrial revolution ran on steam power (and water power and wind power, but mostly steam). Our world is based in the steam powered machines of the Industrial revolution, and the mass-produced consumer product driven economy that those machines made possible. So, unless your characters are struggling against the flattening effects of mass-production, or against the crushing effects of rampant industrialization, or something of that nature, you aren't really doing anything new. You're just transposing existing genre bits into a steamy setting - steam powered ray guns! steam powered aliens! steam powered night vision goggles! yadda yadda yadda!
So. The stories I really liked from the collection:
Michael Stackpole - "Chance Corrigan and the TickTock King of the Nile"
Corrigan uses steam powered machines to improve the lot of the common Egyptian, while struggling with an industrialist who wants to use steam powered machines to make himself rich.
Jody Lynn Nye - "Portrait of a Lady in a Monocle"
A feisty lady proves that, despite Victorian thoughts about women, she is as capable an inventor as the next guy, even if she doesn't have a penis.
Paul Genesse - "The Nubian Queen"
Fantasy/sci-fi stories don't need to be set in lily-white Europe - they can happen in Africa! With an exploding zepplin and cannons carried by rhinos - why not!
Skip and Penny Williams - "The Imperial Changeling"
Who says that the hero has to be the one challenging the dominant paradigm? Here, technology attempts, and fails, to overthrow the European system of magic and monarchy - and that's ok.
Special mention to Robert Vardeman - "The Transmogrification Ray" - I haven't finished this story yet, but I loved that he includes a reference to Chance Corrigan from Stackpole's story - brilliant!
Special mention to William Dietz - "The Battle of Cumberland Gap" - nicely steamy, although not a lot of punk; basically steam enhanced mil-fic. With sentence fragments galore. But I liked the characters.
The remaining stories - it's not so much that a I didn't like them; for the most part they were fine. I had problems with characters in a couple, and plot in another, and a mild lack of punk throughout.
Final thought - that title! Someone picked that title! Punk'd and punk - not at all the same thing. Don't be put off, though; the stories are, generally, quite good - a nice place to begin playing with steampunk, if you aren't already.
That's all for now! I'll wrap up with some trashy books next week too, because I get to ride the train to Philly! Woohoo! So my reading is not done yet.
Showing posts with label Green. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Green. Show all posts
Friday, January 13, 2012
Monday, June 27, 2011
Much Belated Friday Review Post, 6/27/2011, more trashy books AND a Library Monday Post.
So, I got back home yesterday evening, after a return trip turned much longer than expected by an exploding tire. No injuries, although we had not really budgeted for a pair of new tires right now - we were thinking we might buy a full set of 4 closer to Christmas. Oh well. Anyway, I was in no fit state to make a post last night, so here it is now. I'm going to stick the Library Post on the end, too. Also, expect TWO chapters of Hickey of the Beast on Wednesday - ooo!
Two Sundays ago was, of course, Father's Day. My family gave me a tie, and a desk toy, and a book -
Thomas Ayres, That's Not in my American History Book
This is a cute book of off beat history. It presents seldom heard stories of historical figures, and of people who ought to be historical figures, from American history. Clearly well researched, Ayres contends (quite rightly) that the way that history is presented throughout most of our educational lives is a) dry and b) leaves out a lot of important people who happen not to be white, or male, or either. Ayres argues for a broader history, rather than an equally narrow history which presents the stories of non-white, male protagonists at the expense of the standard narrative. I'm inclined to agree - certainly at the elementary and high school level, it should not be assumed that students already know the "standard" narrative. However, my job at the college level would be a lot easier if students came in with a sense that history was exciting, and inclusive. I think books like Ayres' work are valuable, if a little informal. A fun book, designed to trigger a desire to read more into the historical record - I recommend it for anyone struggling with a dry textbook, or desirous of shocking a boring history teacher.
Now, onto the trashy books!
This time out, I was much more successful in my trashy book selection. Over the course of the week, my books became increasingly less trashy, however - I started out strong, but couldn't sustain. Oh well.
Alex Archer - Rogue Angel: Footprints
These books, the Rogue Angel books, have, over the past year or so, become my go-to books for trash. They are the definition of trash - utterly disposable, with very little in the way of redeeming qualities. They're written by a committee - there is no Alex Archer, each book is written by someone else (this one was by John Merz - there's a note on the copyright page thanking him for his contributions to the work). There doesn't appear to be a strong style guide for the series, either. Annja Creed is the recipient of Joan of Arc's sword (which, I thought, was Detective Sara Pezzini's weapon of choice, but who knows) which ought to grant her some sort of mystical powers, but really doesn't. Well, beyond the fact that she can pull this sword out of the "otherness" when she needs a sword. She works as the host of the TV show Chasing History's Monsters, which sends her to remote places of the planet to investigate strange reports of things like mummies, or yetis, or the spear of Gengis Khan. In this capacity, or entirely separate from it (as in this book) Annja encounters a far more mundane monster - drug smugglers, or human traffickers, or whathaveyou - which she deals with by chopping the villain up with her sword. Beyond that, details are fairly loose.
The books seem to allude to some sort of story arc in which Annja learns of her destiny and the nature of the sword. It's possible that this unifying story arc takes place in some of the books I haven't read - it certainly isn't in the ones I have read. Also missing - any sense of coherent motivation for the villain of the book, much respect for the cultural trappings in the book's background, or a realistic approach to life and/or mystical objects on the part on Annja. This book was particularly egregious - the villains are all over the place (is it money? is it power? Why are you doing what you're doing? Never mind - we'll just shoot you, or chop you up, or smother you in your own cocaine). Mysticism is provided courtesy of a couple of Native Americans - plains Indians transplanted to the Pacific Northwest specifically so that Annja has a Tonto to do her dirty work for free. Annja travels to the wilds of Oregon without a change of clothes or a tent or a cell phone or anything. Consequently, she spends several scenes in the nude, while clothes are drying, or being washed or whatever. She does not have sex, but this probably has a lot to do with the fact that none of the males in the book are sexually available. She does not consume inhuman quantities of food; something earlier books had suggested she did - no style guide. Ultimately, these are just not very good books, and perhaps there is no point in thinking about them beyond that.
Annette Blair - The Kitchen Witch
My wife described this as so fluffy it would probably blow away, and she's right. This was a cute little book. Logan Kilgarven is a single dad with a new job as the television producer for the local channel in Salem, MA. Melody Seabright is his downstairs neighbor - a "raven haired beauty" rumored to be a witch. Kilgarven arranges for her to interview for the position of the chef on his station's cooking show - despite the fact that there is no evidence that she can cook at all. Everything works out ok in the end, naturally.
I loved Blair's characters - they were hesitant and passionate and mostly real. I think, perhaps, it took to long for them to sleep with each other, but not alarmingly so. The ending was a little too pat, but you want a nice happy ending in a romance novel, so no real complaint there. The book was witty and bubbly and fun, but didn't have a whole lot of substance. Fluffy, and largely disposable. It appears that this is the first book in a trilogy of "accidental witches" - I might have to look up the rest of them.
Dan Vining - The Quick
For the most part, this was a straight forward hard-boiled detective novel. Jimmy Miles is a detective in Hollywood, hired by Jean Kantke to investigate the murder of her mother, more than a decade ago. Her father, a promising assistant DA, was convicted of and executed for the murder - Kantke wants to know if he was innocent.
In true hard-boiled form, Miles looks into the mystery by using brute force; following leads to their bitter end, and realizing that he's getting close to something true when people start threatening his life. The mystery is solved as much by Miles' judicious use of violence as it is by investigation in a classic sense, although Miles is a smart character; not all fists and pistol whipping.
Additionally, Miles is a Sailor - part of some sort of shadowy group of folks in and around the Hollywood area. The Sailors, we learn, are people who discovered, at the point of their own death, that they cannot die. That is, an event occurs which should kill them, and which results in a body (Miles suggests that this is so the family has something to bury), but someone walks away as well. That someone - the Sailor - cannot die, although the body can be hurt rather extremely (it is implied.) It becomes clear that the Sailors are, in some way, involved in this case, which complicates things rather a lot.
The mystery part of the novel was excellent, I enjoyed it a great deal. I think it works without the whole Sailor bit. The Sailor thing has considerable potential, but I don't think Vining lives up to that potential. Too much about the Sailors is left unexplained, and, indeed, unexamined. When did the phenomenon begin? To what extent has it been investigated? How extensive is the network of mutual aid? Are there Sailors elsewhere, or only in Hollywood? What else do they do? All lovely questions that demand answers that Vining doesn't offer. And since the Sailors are presented as a fairly central element of the novel, well. Frankly, I want more. I liked the characters, I liked the writing, I'd read another, if there were another to read, but this is only just a cut above trash - and it doesn't need to be. It's a self inflicted wound!
Jules Bass - Headhunters
I think Mr. Bass writes movie scripts at least part of the time. This book reads, delightfully, as a movie. Four women from New Jersey decide to up their game in an effort to find love and marriage and fortune. They rent some glitzy dresses and head for Monte Carlo, pretending to be four of the richest women in the world. They plan to put the hotel expenses on their credit cards and deal with the consequences later - their goal is to attract rich men, with the idea that the rich men will either marry them, or at least cover their expenses while in Monte Carlo.
They attract the attention of four gentlemen of leisure, one of whom is a professional escort, and the other three who have joined him in escorting rich, unattached women in the past. None of them are themselves rich (for a variety of reasons) but they can pretend. Their goal - to attract the attention of these four clearly wealthy women, with the hopes that the women will either marry them, or at least cover their expenses for a little while.
You can see where this is going to get complicated, right? Both sides of the group are desperately trying to con the other side of the group. It would be easy for Bass to set up one group as the "bad" group and have the reader root for the "good" group. Instead, Bass creates two groups of sympathetic characters, striving to get out of the mess with their dignity intact. Add to the mix an over worked and understaffed police officer, his over worked and over sexed assistant, and a hapless jewel thief... Yeah. It has all the bits that a great rom com movie requires. Bass manages to make it work as a novel - I loved the characters, I loved the plot, I loved the resolution - but it would be better on the screen.Oh, and look! It may, sort of, end up there - Monte Carlo began filming last year, and may come out later this year. It's not quite the plot, but it's based on the novel.
J.D. Robb - Holiday in Death
J.D. Robb is, of course, romance writer Nora Roberts. She has a whole spinner rack to herself at my library, what with the romance novels and the mystery novels. Clearly, she is what trashy novelists aspire to.
This is from her "in Death" mystery novels. Set in the New York of 2035, these novels follow the exploits of Lieutenant Eve Dallas. This is the earliest of the series available when I was looking - I've been wanting to read these, but I wanted to start at the beginning. This time, I said "frell it," and grabbed the book closest to the beginning, on the grounds that it probably wouldn't matter. I was mostly right.
It's Christmas. Dallas is recently married to Roarke (no last name), who is sort of a romance novel cliche, I think - he's Irish, he's gorgeous, he's a rogue, he's rich, his love-making takes Dallas' breath away routinely. Never mind. Dallas responds to a domestic disturbance call and discovers a rape-murder, which looks like it's the first of a series of serial murders. It is, of course - there are several, they are somewhat graphic, you may consider this a trigger warning for the novel. The connection between the murders seems to be a computer dating service, Personally Yours.
As a mystery novel, this is a fantastic police procedural, full of gritty realism, fights with forensic experts, hard nosed cops who've seen it all, wet behind the ear rookies who haven't had the idealism beaten out of them yet, and the mystery is solved by dogged tracking of clues, while the cops are restrained by their need to get evidence legally for a court case. Lovely stuff, I eat it up with a spoon. Mixed into it, Robb reminds us that she's a romance novelist in her day job, so Dallas and Roarke have lots and lots of really steamy sex - seems like every other chapter. It gets distracting. I found myself skipping the sex to get to the plot. No, really. On the other hand, I think Robb is also setting things up to balance the unhealthy sex of the murderer with the healthy sex of the detective, which is nicely done.
The future stuff is a little dated, because the book was published in 1998 - this is the 2035 of more than a decade ago. Some of the gadgets are old hat now - the future ain't what it used to be, I guess. Also, I expected a further twist at the end, and it didn't come, so the denouement takes longer than I had expected - a quick, punchy ending would have been ... well, it would have been different, anyway. Still, a good novel. I really liked Dallas, and I'll pick up more of these at another time.
Jim Butcher, Simon Green, Kat Richardson, Thomas Sniegoski, Mean Streets
I finished the week out with this collection of four novellas, featuring mystical detectives Harry Dresden, John Taylor, Harper Blaine, and Remy Chandler. I've mentioned Dresden and Chandler before - Blaine died for a minute or two, and since then she can see and speak with ghosts, for all the help they provide. John Taylor is the best PI in the Nightside, the mystical heart of London where dreams and nightmares rub shoulders.
In Butcher's contribution, Harry Dresden tries to protect his friend, Michael Carpenter, former Knight of the Cross. The story, which opens the collection, sparkles delightfully, and, as always, shows that Butcher is writing smart, witty, and surprisingly deep novels which masquerade as trashy paperbacks. There's a lot of heart in this novella, and it really makes the collection worth the effort entirely on its own.
I don't really like Simon Green - he tries way too hard, and packs cliches on top of cliches. His novels are quirky, and they should be right up my alley - all the sort of "secret world behind the real world" stuff, but, meh - they just rub me the wrong way. Anyway, John Tyler, who can find anything, given a little time, helps a young woman find her husband who she suspects is having an affair. He is - with a computer. This is all presented as shocking, but somehow it doesn't work.
Kat Richardson gives us a quirky novella as well, but this one is sweet. Blaine sets off to fulfill a "last will and testament" job - you know, "stay in this house overnight and inherit everything" type thing - she has to transport a small clay dog to a specific gravestone in Mexico on Dios de la Muerto. As you might imagine, ghosts feature. A delightful little story of justice and vengeance. I'm not sure why I haven't read more than the first of the Harper Blaine novels - I'll have to look into that.
Sniegoski writes mystery novels about fallen angel Remy Chandler. In this novella, Remy investigates the murder of Noah. Yes, that Noah, with the ark. I like Remy. I really like Marlowe, Remy's Labrador - Sniegoski really captures the stupid glee of a large dog. Not unlike Doug, from Up - "I have just met you, and I love you!".
With the Butcher and the Sniegoski as bookends, and Kat Richardson to fill out the roster, you can easily skip the Simon Green, and suddenly this isn't all that trashy at all. A nice way to end the week.
Monday Library Post:
Patrick Rothfuss - The Wise Man's Fear
Sequel, finally, to The Name of the Wind. I fear this book will eat most of a week. I've been putting it off for that reason. Also, I hoped to grab the first book to remind me of the story so far (spoilers for the first book at that link) - alas, it was checked out. I grabbed this anyway; it's a hot property, and if I don't take it now, I don't know when I'll see it again - the cover is already cracking, and the spine threatens to loose pages. (Not on MY watch, though.)
Two Sundays ago was, of course, Father's Day. My family gave me a tie, and a desk toy, and a book -
Thomas Ayres, That's Not in my American History Book
This is a cute book of off beat history. It presents seldom heard stories of historical figures, and of people who ought to be historical figures, from American history. Clearly well researched, Ayres contends (quite rightly) that the way that history is presented throughout most of our educational lives is a) dry and b) leaves out a lot of important people who happen not to be white, or male, or either. Ayres argues for a broader history, rather than an equally narrow history which presents the stories of non-white, male protagonists at the expense of the standard narrative. I'm inclined to agree - certainly at the elementary and high school level, it should not be assumed that students already know the "standard" narrative. However, my job at the college level would be a lot easier if students came in with a sense that history was exciting, and inclusive. I think books like Ayres' work are valuable, if a little informal. A fun book, designed to trigger a desire to read more into the historical record - I recommend it for anyone struggling with a dry textbook, or desirous of shocking a boring history teacher.
Now, onto the trashy books!
This time out, I was much more successful in my trashy book selection. Over the course of the week, my books became increasingly less trashy, however - I started out strong, but couldn't sustain. Oh well.
Alex Archer - Rogue Angel: Footprints
These books, the Rogue Angel books, have, over the past year or so, become my go-to books for trash. They are the definition of trash - utterly disposable, with very little in the way of redeeming qualities. They're written by a committee - there is no Alex Archer, each book is written by someone else (this one was by John Merz - there's a note on the copyright page thanking him for his contributions to the work). There doesn't appear to be a strong style guide for the series, either. Annja Creed is the recipient of Joan of Arc's sword (which, I thought, was Detective Sara Pezzini's weapon of choice, but who knows) which ought to grant her some sort of mystical powers, but really doesn't. Well, beyond the fact that she can pull this sword out of the "otherness" when she needs a sword. She works as the host of the TV show Chasing History's Monsters, which sends her to remote places of the planet to investigate strange reports of things like mummies, or yetis, or the spear of Gengis Khan. In this capacity, or entirely separate from it (as in this book) Annja encounters a far more mundane monster - drug smugglers, or human traffickers, or whathaveyou - which she deals with by chopping the villain up with her sword. Beyond that, details are fairly loose.
The books seem to allude to some sort of story arc in which Annja learns of her destiny and the nature of the sword. It's possible that this unifying story arc takes place in some of the books I haven't read - it certainly isn't in the ones I have read. Also missing - any sense of coherent motivation for the villain of the book, much respect for the cultural trappings in the book's background, or a realistic approach to life and/or mystical objects on the part on Annja. This book was particularly egregious - the villains are all over the place (is it money? is it power? Why are you doing what you're doing? Never mind - we'll just shoot you, or chop you up, or smother you in your own cocaine). Mysticism is provided courtesy of a couple of Native Americans - plains Indians transplanted to the Pacific Northwest specifically so that Annja has a Tonto to do her dirty work for free. Annja travels to the wilds of Oregon without a change of clothes or a tent or a cell phone or anything. Consequently, she spends several scenes in the nude, while clothes are drying, or being washed or whatever. She does not have sex, but this probably has a lot to do with the fact that none of the males in the book are sexually available. She does not consume inhuman quantities of food; something earlier books had suggested she did - no style guide. Ultimately, these are just not very good books, and perhaps there is no point in thinking about them beyond that.
Annette Blair - The Kitchen Witch
My wife described this as so fluffy it would probably blow away, and she's right. This was a cute little book. Logan Kilgarven is a single dad with a new job as the television producer for the local channel in Salem, MA. Melody Seabright is his downstairs neighbor - a "raven haired beauty" rumored to be a witch. Kilgarven arranges for her to interview for the position of the chef on his station's cooking show - despite the fact that there is no evidence that she can cook at all. Everything works out ok in the end, naturally.
I loved Blair's characters - they were hesitant and passionate and mostly real. I think, perhaps, it took to long for them to sleep with each other, but not alarmingly so. The ending was a little too pat, but you want a nice happy ending in a romance novel, so no real complaint there. The book was witty and bubbly and fun, but didn't have a whole lot of substance. Fluffy, and largely disposable. It appears that this is the first book in a trilogy of "accidental witches" - I might have to look up the rest of them.
Dan Vining - The Quick
For the most part, this was a straight forward hard-boiled detective novel. Jimmy Miles is a detective in Hollywood, hired by Jean Kantke to investigate the murder of her mother, more than a decade ago. Her father, a promising assistant DA, was convicted of and executed for the murder - Kantke wants to know if he was innocent.
In true hard-boiled form, Miles looks into the mystery by using brute force; following leads to their bitter end, and realizing that he's getting close to something true when people start threatening his life. The mystery is solved as much by Miles' judicious use of violence as it is by investigation in a classic sense, although Miles is a smart character; not all fists and pistol whipping.
Additionally, Miles is a Sailor - part of some sort of shadowy group of folks in and around the Hollywood area. The Sailors, we learn, are people who discovered, at the point of their own death, that they cannot die. That is, an event occurs which should kill them, and which results in a body (Miles suggests that this is so the family has something to bury), but someone walks away as well. That someone - the Sailor - cannot die, although the body can be hurt rather extremely (it is implied.) It becomes clear that the Sailors are, in some way, involved in this case, which complicates things rather a lot.
The mystery part of the novel was excellent, I enjoyed it a great deal. I think it works without the whole Sailor bit. The Sailor thing has considerable potential, but I don't think Vining lives up to that potential. Too much about the Sailors is left unexplained, and, indeed, unexamined. When did the phenomenon begin? To what extent has it been investigated? How extensive is the network of mutual aid? Are there Sailors elsewhere, or only in Hollywood? What else do they do? All lovely questions that demand answers that Vining doesn't offer. And since the Sailors are presented as a fairly central element of the novel, well. Frankly, I want more. I liked the characters, I liked the writing, I'd read another, if there were another to read, but this is only just a cut above trash - and it doesn't need to be. It's a self inflicted wound!
Jules Bass - Headhunters
I think Mr. Bass writes movie scripts at least part of the time. This book reads, delightfully, as a movie. Four women from New Jersey decide to up their game in an effort to find love and marriage and fortune. They rent some glitzy dresses and head for Monte Carlo, pretending to be four of the richest women in the world. They plan to put the hotel expenses on their credit cards and deal with the consequences later - their goal is to attract rich men, with the idea that the rich men will either marry them, or at least cover their expenses while in Monte Carlo.
They attract the attention of four gentlemen of leisure, one of whom is a professional escort, and the other three who have joined him in escorting rich, unattached women in the past. None of them are themselves rich (for a variety of reasons) but they can pretend. Their goal - to attract the attention of these four clearly wealthy women, with the hopes that the women will either marry them, or at least cover their expenses for a little while.
You can see where this is going to get complicated, right? Both sides of the group are desperately trying to con the other side of the group. It would be easy for Bass to set up one group as the "bad" group and have the reader root for the "good" group. Instead, Bass creates two groups of sympathetic characters, striving to get out of the mess with their dignity intact. Add to the mix an over worked and understaffed police officer, his over worked and over sexed assistant, and a hapless jewel thief... Yeah. It has all the bits that a great rom com movie requires. Bass manages to make it work as a novel - I loved the characters, I loved the plot, I loved the resolution - but it would be better on the screen.Oh, and look! It may, sort of, end up there - Monte Carlo began filming last year, and may come out later this year. It's not quite the plot, but it's based on the novel.
J.D. Robb - Holiday in Death
J.D. Robb is, of course, romance writer Nora Roberts. She has a whole spinner rack to herself at my library, what with the romance novels and the mystery novels. Clearly, she is what trashy novelists aspire to.
This is from her "in Death" mystery novels. Set in the New York of 2035, these novels follow the exploits of Lieutenant Eve Dallas. This is the earliest of the series available when I was looking - I've been wanting to read these, but I wanted to start at the beginning. This time, I said "frell it," and grabbed the book closest to the beginning, on the grounds that it probably wouldn't matter. I was mostly right.
It's Christmas. Dallas is recently married to Roarke (no last name), who is sort of a romance novel cliche, I think - he's Irish, he's gorgeous, he's a rogue, he's rich, his love-making takes Dallas' breath away routinely. Never mind. Dallas responds to a domestic disturbance call and discovers a rape-murder, which looks like it's the first of a series of serial murders. It is, of course - there are several, they are somewhat graphic, you may consider this a trigger warning for the novel. The connection between the murders seems to be a computer dating service, Personally Yours.
As a mystery novel, this is a fantastic police procedural, full of gritty realism, fights with forensic experts, hard nosed cops who've seen it all, wet behind the ear rookies who haven't had the idealism beaten out of them yet, and the mystery is solved by dogged tracking of clues, while the cops are restrained by their need to get evidence legally for a court case. Lovely stuff, I eat it up with a spoon. Mixed into it, Robb reminds us that she's a romance novelist in her day job, so Dallas and Roarke have lots and lots of really steamy sex - seems like every other chapter. It gets distracting. I found myself skipping the sex to get to the plot. No, really. On the other hand, I think Robb is also setting things up to balance the unhealthy sex of the murderer with the healthy sex of the detective, which is nicely done.
The future stuff is a little dated, because the book was published in 1998 - this is the 2035 of more than a decade ago. Some of the gadgets are old hat now - the future ain't what it used to be, I guess. Also, I expected a further twist at the end, and it didn't come, so the denouement takes longer than I had expected - a quick, punchy ending would have been ... well, it would have been different, anyway. Still, a good novel. I really liked Dallas, and I'll pick up more of these at another time.
Jim Butcher, Simon Green, Kat Richardson, Thomas Sniegoski, Mean Streets
I finished the week out with this collection of four novellas, featuring mystical detectives Harry Dresden, John Taylor, Harper Blaine, and Remy Chandler. I've mentioned Dresden and Chandler before - Blaine died for a minute or two, and since then she can see and speak with ghosts, for all the help they provide. John Taylor is the best PI in the Nightside, the mystical heart of London where dreams and nightmares rub shoulders.
In Butcher's contribution, Harry Dresden tries to protect his friend, Michael Carpenter, former Knight of the Cross. The story, which opens the collection, sparkles delightfully, and, as always, shows that Butcher is writing smart, witty, and surprisingly deep novels which masquerade as trashy paperbacks. There's a lot of heart in this novella, and it really makes the collection worth the effort entirely on its own.
I don't really like Simon Green - he tries way too hard, and packs cliches on top of cliches. His novels are quirky, and they should be right up my alley - all the sort of "secret world behind the real world" stuff, but, meh - they just rub me the wrong way. Anyway, John Tyler, who can find anything, given a little time, helps a young woman find her husband who she suspects is having an affair. He is - with a computer. This is all presented as shocking, but somehow it doesn't work.
Kat Richardson gives us a quirky novella as well, but this one is sweet. Blaine sets off to fulfill a "last will and testament" job - you know, "stay in this house overnight and inherit everything" type thing - she has to transport a small clay dog to a specific gravestone in Mexico on Dios de la Muerto. As you might imagine, ghosts feature. A delightful little story of justice and vengeance. I'm not sure why I haven't read more than the first of the Harper Blaine novels - I'll have to look into that.
Sniegoski writes mystery novels about fallen angel Remy Chandler. In this novella, Remy investigates the murder of Noah. Yes, that Noah, with the ark. I like Remy. I really like Marlowe, Remy's Labrador - Sniegoski really captures the stupid glee of a large dog. Not unlike Doug, from Up - "I have just met you, and I love you!".
With the Butcher and the Sniegoski as bookends, and Kat Richardson to fill out the roster, you can easily skip the Simon Green, and suddenly this isn't all that trashy at all. A nice way to end the week.
Monday Library Post:
Patrick Rothfuss - The Wise Man's Fear
Sequel, finally, to The Name of the Wind. I fear this book will eat most of a week. I've been putting it off for that reason. Also, I hoped to grab the first book to remind me of the story so far (spoilers for the first book at that link) - alas, it was checked out. I grabbed this anyway; it's a hot property, and if I don't take it now, I don't know when I'll see it again - the cover is already cracking, and the spine threatens to loose pages. (Not on MY watch, though.)
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