Unfortunately, the third novel, The James Deans, is in much more standard territory. There is a too-good-to-be-true politician, his wealthy handler, an corrupt policeman, and other standard accoutrements of the genre. It's not a bad book per se (although the plot is a bit overly convoluted), and Reed Farrell Coleman is a solid writer, but it didn't really stand out for me.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
The James Deans
I loved the first two Moe Praeger books (although I see I that I only blogged about the first one). They share with most hard-boiled detective novels a certain level of cynicism, but they also have an underlying optimism that people can find a personal redemption, even in an environment that is corrupt. It's a rare combination with in the field, and Coleman's thoughtful exploration of hope and redemption was appealing.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
King's Ransom
A while back, amazon was offering a good deal on a large selection of Ed McBain's 87th Precinct novels, about which I've heard many good things, so I decided to snap up the first bunch, up to King's Ransom, which I've been curious to read since seeing the Kurosawa movie based on it, High and Low.
As it turns out, I was both pleased and disappointed by this novel. The first disappointment is that in just about every way, the movie is much stronger. The kidnapping is simpler, the industrialist's character arc is better, and we don't actually meet the kidnapper until the end.
On the other hand, I've mostly been underwhelmed by the 87th Precinct novels so far, and this one finally turns the corner to be not too bad. (Talk about damning with faint praise. But it's the best I can do here). But, having said that, my second disappointment is that the novel also wasn't really stand-out good either. Maybe I can be convinced to try some later novels in the series, but for now I'm done with it. I get that these books were written a long time ago, but Raymond Chandler's novels (for example) still leap off the page, and they're even older.
As it turns out, I was both pleased and disappointed by this novel. The first disappointment is that in just about every way, the movie is much stronger. The kidnapping is simpler, the industrialist's character arc is better, and we don't actually meet the kidnapper until the end.
On the other hand, I've mostly been underwhelmed by the 87th Precinct novels so far, and this one finally turns the corner to be not too bad. (Talk about damning with faint praise. But it's the best I can do here). But, having said that, my second disappointment is that the novel also wasn't really stand-out good either. Maybe I can be convinced to try some later novels in the series, but for now I'm done with it. I get that these books were written a long time ago, but Raymond Chandler's novels (for example) still leap off the page, and they're even older.
The Killing Kind
If the Felix Castor books are a mix of hard-boiled detective novels into the fantasy genre, The Killing Kind (and the rest of the Charlie Parker novels) are the flip side of the coin, putting some ghosts into a hard-boiled detective novel. The ghosts don't really have a plot function as such (in fact, they're completely passive; they never even speak); instead, they're there to add another layer of dread and horror to this tale, already brimming with atmosphere.
I think the presence of ghosts in the novel also serves to give the human villains a sort of supernatural tinge, even though they're never explicitly presented as being anything other than human. By allowing the possibility for one sort of supernatural occurrence, Connolly seems to leave the door open for others. And, in a lot of ways, The Killing Kind could be read as a horror novel. The main antagonist would work just fine in a horror novel, and he and his sister are very spooky when working in tandem. They have an almost preternatural ability to appear in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I think it would bother me in a more realistic-seeming novel.
On the other hand, the detective elements are also well-done, and I find myself looking forward to more of Connolly's blend of horror and hard-boiled fiction.
I think the presence of ghosts in the novel also serves to give the human villains a sort of supernatural tinge, even though they're never explicitly presented as being anything other than human. By allowing the possibility for one sort of supernatural occurrence, Connolly seems to leave the door open for others. And, in a lot of ways, The Killing Kind could be read as a horror novel. The main antagonist would work just fine in a horror novel, and he and his sister are very spooky when working in tandem. They have an almost preternatural ability to appear in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I think it would bother me in a more realistic-seeming novel.
On the other hand, the detective elements are also well-done, and I find myself looking forward to more of Connolly's blend of horror and hard-boiled fiction.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
The Vanishing of Katharina Linden
The Vanishing of Katharina Linden is one of those novels where the main character is a child (in this case, 11 years old), yet is not at all written for children. The story opens on a gruesome note (yet a little darkly humorous, for all that) as young Pia Kolvinbach's grandmother lights herself on fire and burns to death. The story becomes exaggerated, and Pia becomes known as the girl with the exploding grandmother.
Ostracized by the other children her age, Pia becomes friends with the other social outcast, Stefan, and the novel more-or-less chronicles their next year together. Although the novel is ostensibly a mystery, about the titular vanishing, I didn't find the mystery to be the main attraction. I'm not sure author Helen Grant did either; less than half of the novel is given over to it, and even there, we saw more of how the stress of a disappearing child plays out in the town, and not very much about solving the mystery.
Helen Grant weaves together legends from the town of BadMuensterEifel (where the novel is set); a good small-town setting; and the interesting characters of Pia herself, her family, and the town citizens into a compelling coming-of-age story. Really, the coming-of-age story is not a genre that typically interests me; for me, the exceptions all have some other interesting facets to recommend them. So it is here -- Grant is very good at placing Pia at a time when she still wants to believe in fairy stories, but is growing too old for them.
Ostracized by the other children her age, Pia becomes friends with the other social outcast, Stefan, and the novel more-or-less chronicles their next year together. Although the novel is ostensibly a mystery, about the titular vanishing, I didn't find the mystery to be the main attraction. I'm not sure author Helen Grant did either; less than half of the novel is given over to it, and even there, we saw more of how the stress of a disappearing child plays out in the town, and not very much about solving the mystery.
Helen Grant weaves together legends from the town of BadMuensterEifel (where the novel is set); a good small-town setting; and the interesting characters of Pia herself, her family, and the town citizens into a compelling coming-of-age story. Really, the coming-of-age story is not a genre that typically interests me; for me, the exceptions all have some other interesting facets to recommend them. So it is here -- Grant is very good at placing Pia at a time when she still wants to believe in fairy stories, but is growing too old for them.
Friday, August 23, 2013
All Cry Chaos
All Cry Chaos should have been a natural book for me to love. A thriller based around the mathematics of chaos theory is right up my alley. And, indeed, I liked it, but it had some nagging issues that kept me from really loving it.
Author Jonathon Rosen has a nice breezy style when explaining the basics of fractals (though it's a bit rough around the edges). Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, he loses the fact that chaos means that you can't arbitrarily predict things, even with the right equations, because you're limited by the accuracy of your starting point. It's a somewhat academic point, but it means that his characters shouldn't be able to game the stock market as much as they do, even granting an equation which could predict prices.
Another issue that bothered me was the American-centric nature of the writing. The main character French, but he thinks, for example, that a person has "eyes like Charles Manson," or hair like Ronald Reagan's. It's pretty jarring, though it probably wouldn't work to put in the French equivalent of Manson -- I and most of the audience wouldn't know who that person is. Instead, a simile without reference to a person would've been a better bet.
On the other hand, the plot moves reasonably well. Rosen tries to bring some philosophical depth to the story with musings on the nature of math, society, and God, although it didn't feel integral to the story.
Author Jonathon Rosen has a nice breezy style when explaining the basics of fractals (though it's a bit rough around the edges). Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, he loses the fact that chaos means that you can't arbitrarily predict things, even with the right equations, because you're limited by the accuracy of your starting point. It's a somewhat academic point, but it means that his characters shouldn't be able to game the stock market as much as they do, even granting an equation which could predict prices.
Another issue that bothered me was the American-centric nature of the writing. The main character French, but he thinks, for example, that a person has "eyes like Charles Manson," or hair like Ronald Reagan's. It's pretty jarring, though it probably wouldn't work to put in the French equivalent of Manson -- I and most of the audience wouldn't know who that person is. Instead, a simile without reference to a person would've been a better bet.
On the other hand, the plot moves reasonably well. Rosen tries to bring some philosophical depth to the story with musings on the nature of math, society, and God, although it didn't feel integral to the story.
Horns
Horns is Joe Hill's sophomore effort, after Heart Shaped Box, which I enjoyed very much. Unfortunately, I didn't enjoy Horns nearly as much. Although individual parts are well-written, the whole didn't hang together for me.
One of Hill's strengths is his characters. The major characters feel alive, especially /Merrin, the love interest of the piece. Through the course of the novel, she seems to grow from an idealized image to a fully fleshed-out person. On the other hand, he doesn't give nearly as much attention to his minor characters. They're there to give protagonist Ig something to react against, and aren't much more than props. (This includes Ig's father and mother, who should by rights have been ore important characters).
My bigger problem with the novel, though, is structural. Ig wakes up one morning with horns growing out of his head, and finds himself gradually adopting the powers of the devil. But it's pretty random -- why does it happen? Why does Merrin's crucifix block his power, but others don't? Why do people start telling him what they think of him -- that's not really a power associated with the devil? I get that fantasy novels don't always have a good rationale behind them, and horror novels even less so, but even Ig wonders about some of these questions, foregrounding the fact that they make no sense. Yet this also isn't presented as some kind of Lovecraftian cosmic horror, where you'll never understand what's going on because your brain is just too limited.
Individual sections work pretty well in isolation. Hill knows how to write a compelling scene. But, unlike Heart Shaped Box, which felt satisfying on every level, Horns didn't really deliver for me.
One of Hill's strengths is his characters. The major characters feel alive, especially /Merrin, the love interest of the piece. Through the course of the novel, she seems to grow from an idealized image to a fully fleshed-out person. On the other hand, he doesn't give nearly as much attention to his minor characters. They're there to give protagonist Ig something to react against, and aren't much more than props. (This includes Ig's father and mother, who should by rights have been ore important characters).
My bigger problem with the novel, though, is structural. Ig wakes up one morning with horns growing out of his head, and finds himself gradually adopting the powers of the devil. But it's pretty random -- why does it happen? Why does Merrin's crucifix block his power, but others don't? Why do people start telling him what they think of him -- that's not really a power associated with the devil? I get that fantasy novels don't always have a good rationale behind them, and horror novels even less so, but even Ig wonders about some of these questions, foregrounding the fact that they make no sense. Yet this also isn't presented as some kind of Lovecraftian cosmic horror, where you'll never understand what's going on because your brain is just too limited.
Individual sections work pretty well in isolation. Hill knows how to write a compelling scene. But, unlike Heart Shaped Box, which felt satisfying on every level, Horns didn't really deliver for me.
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. 1
I was going to post regularly about The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, but life has a habit of getting in the way. But I just want to mark that I finished vol. 1. In this volume, Gibbon lays out at least some of his thesis on the decline and fall. In his view, Rome didn't have the civil apparatus for an orderly transfer of power, and so all too often, the Empire ended up in some sort of strife as rival claimants to the throne tried to grab it. Even when that wasn't the case, the rivals would try to bribe the army, leading to an overweening armed force that was difficult to control.
He views the monarchy as an antidote to this problem. You may not always have a good ruler, but at least there's an orderly succession in place, and everyone knows what it is. (Although he glosses over things like, say, the fight between Mary and Elizabeth I). He doesn't believe in popular government, because rival claimants will try to hold on to the throne by appealing to the mob or the army -- Gibbon can't seem to envision a popular election system where there's also an orderly transfer of power.
He also begins the process of working out his other great theme, the harmful effect Christianity had on the Empire. His famous 16th chapter is savage on the subject of Christianity's claims to truth, but he doesn't really yet enter into the larger effect of Christianity on the Empire. I eagerly look forward to reading vol. 2.
He views the monarchy as an antidote to this problem. You may not always have a good ruler, but at least there's an orderly succession in place, and everyone knows what it is. (Although he glosses over things like, say, the fight between Mary and Elizabeth I). He doesn't believe in popular government, because rival claimants will try to hold on to the throne by appealing to the mob or the army -- Gibbon can't seem to envision a popular election system where there's also an orderly transfer of power.
He also begins the process of working out his other great theme, the harmful effect Christianity had on the Empire. His famous 16th chapter is savage on the subject of Christianity's claims to truth, but he doesn't really yet enter into the larger effect of Christianity on the Empire. I eagerly look forward to reading vol. 2.
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