Booklog 2008: Catch-Up Post the Fifth
Apr. 25th, 2008 03:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofoneWow! I'm really getting there! *shocked*
41. Then We Came to the End, Joshua Ferris — The story of a failing Chicago ad agency, told in 2nd person plural. In the hands of a lesser writer, this would feel gimmicky and get old fast, but Ferris does an amazing job with it, and it suits this story—which is about a community more than individuals—perfectly. Further, while there’s plenty of black humor, he steers away from easy cynicism; there’s a wonderful, large-hearted quality to the book. I don’t completely buy the resolution, but this is an amazingly impressive first novel, and I really look forward to seeing what Ferris does next.
42. Casino Royale, Ian Fleming — In which James Bond proves to be rather unpleasant, and not a terribly good spy. This is a very quick read, but an empty one: besides teaching me the rules of baccarat, there wasn’t much here, not even the thrilling action-y set pieces of the films. I’m impressed with how well they developed Vesper in the recent movie, especially when compared to this—she’s tissue-thin here, and her “romance” with Bond completely unconvincing. “Romance”—at one point Bond thinks about how much he wants to have sex with her, as seeing as how she’s so withdrawn, each time would have the zesty tang of rape. Nice.
43. Force of Nature, Suzanne Brockmann — The one where Jules and Robin actually get together. They share the narrative (much more equally than in Hot Target) with a het couple, ex-cop-turned-private-eye Ric and his childhood friend/assistant Annie. Annie is incredibly awesome. (She reminds me a bit of LoM’s Annie, actually, although that’s an observation made after the fact.) She’s take-charge and kickass, but in a very realistic way—she’s not a martial arts expert or trained in espionage, but she’s willing to put herself out there, and she’s brave and clever. I really liked her. Ric’s not chopped liver himself, despite frequently needing a bit of a smack. Their reasons for not getting together were really lame, though. Lots of “It might mess up our friendship” and “I thought you were a lesbian!”-type crap. (See? Ric needs a smack again.) A character as awesome as Annie deserves a more exciting narrative!
As for the Robin and Jules storyline, I wasn’t madly in love with it, but its ultimate conclusion is total gold. (Spoiler: After they’ve all worked together to save the day, Robin says “fuck it” to staying in the closet to benefit his acting career and kisses Jules right in front of a bunch of news helicopters. I NEED THE JOHN/RODNEY VERSION OF THIS SCENARIO IMMEDIATELY.)
So, a pretty good book in general: a bit slow, but with fewer headdesky moments than Gone Too Far. Now, where’s the book where Jules and Annie have wild madcap adventures together?
44. Tales of the Vampires, Joss Whedon, et. al. — Fun, if nothing special. It was an enjoyable enough way to spend an hour. Thinking about Spike and everything that happened to him still makes me all wibbly. The end.
45. How I Live Now, Meg Rosoff — In this novel, teenager Daisy escapes her "evil" stepmother to live with her cousins in England; embarks on a semi-incestuous relationship with her cousin Edmond, with whom she shares some sort of psychic connection; and must fend for herself and protect her young cousin Piper when England is invaded by some unnamed foreign power. Plus she's got to confront her anorexia. Or something.
I still have no idea was Rosoff was going for in this book. There are so many different elements, but they seem more like random plot ideas plucked from a hat than parts of a cohesive whole. The details of the war were left almost entirely up to the imagination, but not in the sense that there were just enough hints dropped to make everything seem very creepy. Instead, everything's vague to the point of who cares. I never believed in it. Also, I think I've reached my limit with prose that mimics the style of the opening chapters of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Youthful first-person narrators don't ALL need to use run-on sentences and sporadic punctuation. Can we make an official ruling that that device has gotten old? Thanks.
46. Karma Girl, Jennifer Estep — This was one of the worst-written books I've read in a while. Every other paragraph, the author has the narrator say things like, "my inner voice chattered" or "my inner voice screamed"; I haven't encountered such an annoying narrative tick since Tolkien's "And lo!"/"And behold!" addiction in Return of the King. Also, every time there's an "ethnic" character, they are repeatedly referred to in the text as "the black man" or "the Asian girl." I think I should apply that strategy to a novel about the Republican primaries. "The white man," "the other white man," "yet another white man"...
The plot is also incredibly predictable—Carmen Cole, plucky girl reporter, tries to unmask a series of superheroes and "ubervillains," only their identities are so painfully obvious, one begins to think that Carmen and her inner voice must have recently suffered a head injury. Add to that a bland romance, full of dueling tongues and other bad smutfic cliches, and you have a book I'm really baffled that I bothered to finish.
However, if I hadn't, I might have missed the best line in the thing. Says the supposedly supergenius ubervillain Frost: "Your lack of intellect is too small to calculate!" Ahahahaha. Wow.
47. Strange Relations, Philip José Farmer — This is one weird fucking book. It’s nominally a collection of five lengthy short stories about human/alien interactions, with sexual undertones. However, what it really breaks down to is:
1) The first story, which is the best and most creepy. A dude with enough mommy issues to make Freud’s head explode ends up in a co-dependent, quasi-sexual relationship with what’s basically a giant alien snail. Mom comes to an unpleasant end. This story is incredibly compelling, and really, really disturbing. I wish the whole collection had been more like it, although then I may have needed to shower for several days after finishing it.
2) The second story, which is told from the POV of one of the snail-like creatures from the first. Has nothing to with human/alien encounters, though it’s kind of interesting from an anthropological standpoint.
3) Man vs. an evil submarine controlled by an AI. The AI is female. Farmer has some issues with women, methinks.
4) A ship containing several priests, an old drunken lady, an annoying young couple, and possibly some other characters crash lands on a planet controlled by a being with godlike powers. Wackiness ensues. Trin begins to suspect that she has been led astray a bit regarding the premise of this book.
5) Um…I have no memory of what the fifth story was actually about.
In summation: While the first story made for a pretty amazing head-fuck, the rest were not all that compelling or memorable (in one case, quite literally). If you are looking for sexy sex with sexy aliens, once again, you are looking in the wrong place. And by “you,” I sadly mean me.
48. The President’s Daughter, Ellen Emerson White — Fabulous YA book about Meg, whose mother runs for president…and wins. Great characters, interesting tension—it felt very real. I’m glad I managed to get ahold of a copy of the book in its original release, as all the ’80s details were very fun (the new “updated” version [and how much do I hate the concept of “updating” books?] does have an intensely awesome cover, however). My one criticism would be that the book doesn’t resolve so much as just end, but I guess that makes me even more eager for the sequel.
49. The Secret History of the Pink Carnation, Lauren Willig — While Willig definitely displays some wit, this book is hampered by a dull, clichéd romantic plot. I don’t mind—and can even really like—older man/younger woman romances, but not when the man seems like a MAN, and the woman like a silly, flighty girl. Then it’s icky. And there was a bit too much of that ickiness here (even though the characters are, I think, actually less than ten years apart in age!), coupled with a mystery that’s just not very mysterious. This is supposed to be a fun, light-hearted romp—which is the sort of thing I love! But it’s just not that clever or different, and ultimately, not that much fun.
50. Un Lun Dun, China Mièville — A sort of kiddie Neverwhere (and Miéville does indeed credit Neil Gaiman in the intro), this is one of those books that’s packed with cleverness—and really, really aware of it. I like some of Miéville’s attempts to turn the typical quest-y fantasy on its ear—The Chosen One turns out to be fairly useless! The “tasks” one must complete to defeat the bad guy are highly skippable!—but UnLondon never felt like a real place to me, or its denizens real people. I’m still really not sure who Deeba was supposed to be—she was just the girl who was in this story. (And whose relationship with grammar was most puzzling—why is she portrayed as wildly articulate and proper one minute, and all dialect-y the next?) Likewise, the journey from one look! look! how clever! bit of UnLondon to the next didn’t help build a portrait of the character of the city—it just felt self-conscious.
I first read Neverwhere when I was eleven or twelve, and wasn’t wildly traumatized by it—quite the opposite, in fact. I think kids are much better off just reading that. (Though I did like Miéville’s illustrations.)
Total Reviews: 50/68
41. Then We Came to the End, Joshua Ferris — The story of a failing Chicago ad agency, told in 2nd person plural. In the hands of a lesser writer, this would feel gimmicky and get old fast, but Ferris does an amazing job with it, and it suits this story—which is about a community more than individuals—perfectly. Further, while there’s plenty of black humor, he steers away from easy cynicism; there’s a wonderful, large-hearted quality to the book. I don’t completely buy the resolution, but this is an amazingly impressive first novel, and I really look forward to seeing what Ferris does next.
42. Casino Royale, Ian Fleming — In which James Bond proves to be rather unpleasant, and not a terribly good spy. This is a very quick read, but an empty one: besides teaching me the rules of baccarat, there wasn’t much here, not even the thrilling action-y set pieces of the films. I’m impressed with how well they developed Vesper in the recent movie, especially when compared to this—she’s tissue-thin here, and her “romance” with Bond completely unconvincing. “Romance”—at one point Bond thinks about how much he wants to have sex with her, as seeing as how she’s so withdrawn, each time would have the zesty tang of rape. Nice.
43. Force of Nature, Suzanne Brockmann — The one where Jules and Robin actually get together. They share the narrative (much more equally than in Hot Target) with a het couple, ex-cop-turned-private-eye Ric and his childhood friend/assistant Annie. Annie is incredibly awesome. (She reminds me a bit of LoM’s Annie, actually, although that’s an observation made after the fact.) She’s take-charge and kickass, but in a very realistic way—she’s not a martial arts expert or trained in espionage, but she’s willing to put herself out there, and she’s brave and clever. I really liked her. Ric’s not chopped liver himself, despite frequently needing a bit of a smack. Their reasons for not getting together were really lame, though. Lots of “It might mess up our friendship” and “I thought you were a lesbian!”-type crap. (See? Ric needs a smack again.) A character as awesome as Annie deserves a more exciting narrative!
As for the Robin and Jules storyline, I wasn’t madly in love with it, but its ultimate conclusion is total gold. (Spoiler: After they’ve all worked together to save the day, Robin says “fuck it” to staying in the closet to benefit his acting career and kisses Jules right in front of a bunch of news helicopters. I NEED THE JOHN/RODNEY VERSION OF THIS SCENARIO IMMEDIATELY.)
So, a pretty good book in general: a bit slow, but with fewer headdesky moments than Gone Too Far. Now, where’s the book where Jules and Annie have wild madcap adventures together?
44. Tales of the Vampires, Joss Whedon, et. al. — Fun, if nothing special. It was an enjoyable enough way to spend an hour. Thinking about Spike and everything that happened to him still makes me all wibbly. The end.
45. How I Live Now, Meg Rosoff — In this novel, teenager Daisy escapes her "evil" stepmother to live with her cousins in England; embarks on a semi-incestuous relationship with her cousin Edmond, with whom she shares some sort of psychic connection; and must fend for herself and protect her young cousin Piper when England is invaded by some unnamed foreign power. Plus she's got to confront her anorexia. Or something.
I still have no idea was Rosoff was going for in this book. There are so many different elements, but they seem more like random plot ideas plucked from a hat than parts of a cohesive whole. The details of the war were left almost entirely up to the imagination, but not in the sense that there were just enough hints dropped to make everything seem very creepy. Instead, everything's vague to the point of who cares. I never believed in it. Also, I think I've reached my limit with prose that mimics the style of the opening chapters of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Youthful first-person narrators don't ALL need to use run-on sentences and sporadic punctuation. Can we make an official ruling that that device has gotten old? Thanks.
46. Karma Girl, Jennifer Estep — This was one of the worst-written books I've read in a while. Every other paragraph, the author has the narrator say things like, "my inner voice chattered" or "my inner voice screamed"; I haven't encountered such an annoying narrative tick since Tolkien's "And lo!"/"And behold!" addiction in Return of the King. Also, every time there's an "ethnic" character, they are repeatedly referred to in the text as "the black man" or "the Asian girl." I think I should apply that strategy to a novel about the Republican primaries. "The white man," "the other white man," "yet another white man"...
The plot is also incredibly predictable—Carmen Cole, plucky girl reporter, tries to unmask a series of superheroes and "ubervillains," only their identities are so painfully obvious, one begins to think that Carmen and her inner voice must have recently suffered a head injury. Add to that a bland romance, full of dueling tongues and other bad smutfic cliches, and you have a book I'm really baffled that I bothered to finish.
However, if I hadn't, I might have missed the best line in the thing. Says the supposedly supergenius ubervillain Frost: "Your lack of intellect is too small to calculate!" Ahahahaha. Wow.
47. Strange Relations, Philip José Farmer — This is one weird fucking book. It’s nominally a collection of five lengthy short stories about human/alien interactions, with sexual undertones. However, what it really breaks down to is:
1) The first story, which is the best and most creepy. A dude with enough mommy issues to make Freud’s head explode ends up in a co-dependent, quasi-sexual relationship with what’s basically a giant alien snail. Mom comes to an unpleasant end. This story is incredibly compelling, and really, really disturbing. I wish the whole collection had been more like it, although then I may have needed to shower for several days after finishing it.
2) The second story, which is told from the POV of one of the snail-like creatures from the first. Has nothing to with human/alien encounters, though it’s kind of interesting from an anthropological standpoint.
3) Man vs. an evil submarine controlled by an AI. The AI is female. Farmer has some issues with women, methinks.
4) A ship containing several priests, an old drunken lady, an annoying young couple, and possibly some other characters crash lands on a planet controlled by a being with godlike powers. Wackiness ensues. Trin begins to suspect that she has been led astray a bit regarding the premise of this book.
5) Um…I have no memory of what the fifth story was actually about.
In summation: While the first story made for a pretty amazing head-fuck, the rest were not all that compelling or memorable (in one case, quite literally). If you are looking for sexy sex with sexy aliens, once again, you are looking in the wrong place. And by “you,” I sadly mean me.
48. The President’s Daughter, Ellen Emerson White — Fabulous YA book about Meg, whose mother runs for president…and wins. Great characters, interesting tension—it felt very real. I’m glad I managed to get ahold of a copy of the book in its original release, as all the ’80s details were very fun (the new “updated” version [and how much do I hate the concept of “updating” books?] does have an intensely awesome cover, however). My one criticism would be that the book doesn’t resolve so much as just end, but I guess that makes me even more eager for the sequel.
49. The Secret History of the Pink Carnation, Lauren Willig — While Willig definitely displays some wit, this book is hampered by a dull, clichéd romantic plot. I don’t mind—and can even really like—older man/younger woman romances, but not when the man seems like a MAN, and the woman like a silly, flighty girl. Then it’s icky. And there was a bit too much of that ickiness here (even though the characters are, I think, actually less than ten years apart in age!), coupled with a mystery that’s just not very mysterious. This is supposed to be a fun, light-hearted romp—which is the sort of thing I love! But it’s just not that clever or different, and ultimately, not that much fun.
50. Un Lun Dun, China Mièville — A sort of kiddie Neverwhere (and Miéville does indeed credit Neil Gaiman in the intro), this is one of those books that’s packed with cleverness—and really, really aware of it. I like some of Miéville’s attempts to turn the typical quest-y fantasy on its ear—The Chosen One turns out to be fairly useless! The “tasks” one must complete to defeat the bad guy are highly skippable!—but UnLondon never felt like a real place to me, or its denizens real people. I’m still really not sure who Deeba was supposed to be—she was just the girl who was in this story. (And whose relationship with grammar was most puzzling—why is she portrayed as wildly articulate and proper one minute, and all dialect-y the next?) Likewise, the journey from one look! look! how clever! bit of UnLondon to the next didn’t help build a portrait of the character of the city—it just felt self-conscious.
I first read Neverwhere when I was eleven or twelve, and wasn’t wildly traumatized by it—quite the opposite, in fact. I think kids are much better off just reading that. (Though I did like Miéville’s illustrations.)
Total Reviews: 50/68
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Date: 2008-04-26 11:03 pm (UTC)As are those initials. ;-) But agreed!