Category: Reviews

Apathy and Other Small Victories by Paul Neilan

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I have to apologize because this review will not be very good. Not that my other reviews are amazing– it’s just that I finished reading Apathy and Other Small Victories over a week ago, and I put off writing the review since I am only doing them weekly. It’s a stupid reason for putting it off, especially considering how good Apathy was. I need to check over my list of what I’ve read so far since January, but I’m pretty sure it’s the best thing I’ve read this year.

As far as I can tell it’s the Paul Neilan’s only published novel. Halfway through reading it I looked him up, found his website, and noted that the last update was 2008. Something about a new book coming soon, which seems to have been a damned dirty lie. Okay, not a lie, but I’m trying to express my frustration. Writers like this should write more. They have a duty. Even if it means self-publishing and earning nothing. Damn it.

The book is predicated on a kind of plot, one of those stories where the present action only goes for a few hours, but the main character spends a lot of the time reminiscing. That’s the first half, anyway. The second half picks up and takes this plot the rest of the way. I’m totally going to steal this structure.

And the writing is just so good. Just so good that I end up writing horrible sentences like “and the writing is just so good” to describe it. It’s laugh-out-loud funny, that wit that we usually only see in hard-boiled detective novels, snappy little sayings and brutally hilarious descriptions, comparisons, asides that don’t distract because that’s the whole reason we’re reading this thing.

All if it couched perfectly in a story about a regular guy doing his thing which is nothing at all and as little of it as possible. There’s a murder mystery, and a cast of eccentric characters to fill it all in. But don’t misread what I’m saying, don’t take this horrible review as an apt description of Apathy. This is not an absurd novel, or a farce. I don’t even want to call it a dark comedy. I don’t know what I want to call it.

I want to call it the first novel in a prolific writing career, is what I want to call it. I even wrote Neilan an email asking him to write more. That’s only the second time in my life I’ve written to a writer. Five stars is not enough.

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Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Last week I read and wrote about a children’s book, and wondered why we, adults, like to read them. This week I read Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, and I’m finding that line blurry once again. I don’t think Ransom Rigg’s novel is necessarily for adults—that’s the default, right? I saw the book on the new arrivals shelf at Barne’s & Noble, was intrigued by the cover, intrigued by the use of old photographs within the text, and once I read the sample on my e-reader, decided to keep going. Nowhere was there anything that made me think that this was a book for kids.

Until I was about halfway through it. The main character is a teenager, and the other characters are either adults seen from his perspective (unlikeable) or a bunch of little kids possessed of fascinating “peculiarities.” So it’s about kids, is quasi-fantastical, deals with time travel and a mysterious island and other tropes that seem to indicate: meant for younger readers.

Is it important to make the distinction? Maybe. If I’m going to speak to how well the book was written, or how well the writer’s ideas were executed, maybe I should say something like “teenagers will identify with Jacob’s struggles to balance his experience with adult incredulity, while adult readers will enjoy the return to innocence in this coming-of-age tale with a twist.” But I’m not writing back-of-the-dust-jacket blurbs here.

I’ll say this instead: it’s a quick read, interesting enough, sets itself up for sequels, and gets three stars because Riggs tells his story right without taking any real risks. That’s a poor review, actually, but the best I can do, for now. You see, Peculiar Children was not the book I expected, and I’m only just now realizing I don’t even know what my expectations were.

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The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I read Harry Potter, skipped Twilight, and haven’t tried The Hunger Games yet (although I might. Probably just go see the movie). What is it about kids books that we adults like so much? Maybe it’s because they’re easy to read. I’ll grant you that— The Mysterious Benedict Society is an easy read, although it’s also a younger book than Potter, ‘Light, or Games. No death, no sex, no graphic violence. Just four kids sent on a spy mission to help defeat an evil villain.

Trenton Lee Stewart does a good job of taking a few outcasts and bringing them together to illustrate some nice principles for kids to develop: loyalty, honesty, faith, friendship, perseverance, creativity, teamwork. And rather than a dogmatic approach to these ideals, he has his characters bend their own rules and deal with consequences, which I found rather refreshing.

I don’t know if I cared for the major plot point of the story, the evil villain’s plans and how he was accomplishing them—it had elements of sci-fi and fantasy, but without the science or magic of either. Someone smarter than me could probably show how mind-control machines are a symbol for something significant, but I missed it totally. And the book does drag in a few places.

But just a few. And other than shifting the point of view from his main character to others on a few occasions, I don’t have any other complaints. Stewart fills the story with all kinds of puzzles and secret little word-plays, which were fun to discover and I’m sure a smart 5th grader would enjoy them as well.

I’m all for parents reading the books their kids read, and I’m happy to say this is one the parents can get through quickly, and pass on to their children with confidence that there’s nothing in it they can’t handle, and quite a bit for them to love.

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The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

My rating: 3 of 5 stars
A friend of mine in Chicago is starting a book club, and this is going to be their first book. So I thought I’d take a look. I’m not much one for non-fiction, or this kind of subject, but Rebecca Skloot is a fine writer, and I found the book to be very readable. A fine, good read. Engaging, compelling, interesting, and probably most importantly, eye-opening. There’s the praise.

Ostensibly an attempt to tell Henrietta’s story, this book ends up being more about the story of trying to tell Henrietta’s story. Maybe that’s the author’s intent. Maybe there’s some deep symbolism there. In as much as the cancer cells taken from Henrietta Lacks continued to live and multiply, so too does the ongoing effect of those cells on her family. Maybe. That’s seems a bit easy. I think what we really have here is just too little information available about Henrietta herself, and so she gets covered in a few short chapters.

There, of course descriptions of how her cells have set a course for cancer research, and genetic research in general. But the vast majority of the book seems to be around how Skloot has to deal with one of Henrietta’s daughters, Deborah, in order to get as much information as she can to write the book at all. Which is not a bad thing, per se, and it is a good story. But the book ends up being about itself, a book about what it took to write the book.

That’s what I got out of it, anyway. And just like you always suspect, in the back of your mind, that good guys are going to win, to survive, when you’re watching them put in danger in a movie, so too did I have that sense as I was reading this. “I’m holding the book, so Skloot must have succeeded in getting it written.”

Skloot manages to tell the story without making it just about racism and sexism and class. Those elements are present in the story, but Skloot doesn’t let them take over, doesn’t make this book just a screed. And she does give a good introduction, as much as needed, to the science of cell division, cancer, the commercial side of things, patients’ rights, rights to privacy, again without lecturing too much, to provide context for what Deborah is dealing with as she fights to understand and honor her mother’s legacy.

If, in the end, Skloot’s goal was to elevate Henrietta Lacks to the stature of important historical figure, and to make her a real person and not just a footnote through an examination of her families survival after her passing, then I’d say she succeeded, and the book is worth reading.

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Promise Me Eternity by Ian Fox

My rating: 1 of 5 stars

I was asked by the author to read this book and write a review. I’m afraid I do not feel this book is a very good read. And I was reluctant to post what will mostly be negative things, but it seems others have also been asked to read and review, and so I am more or less echoing what they’ve said.

The characters are flat, stereotypical, and at the same time unrealistic. Entire chapters are dedicated to extraneous characters who have little, or nothing to do with the plot. The writer lavishly describes what they do, where the go, what they eat. It’s all very over the top.

A lack of verisimilitude pervades every aspect of this novel. None of the professions that the various characters possess are described in anything approaching a realistic fashion. I realize that most fiction takes license with this kind of thing (have a doctor watch Grey’s Anatomy, you know what I mean). But this novel shows not only lack of understanding, but a complete disregard for any attempt at reality.

There’s a plot, in the sense that people face conflict and attempt to resolve the conflict, but there’s no pacing to the novel, no rising action, and the climax is muddled. At no point is there a sense for why we should care about any of this. Deus Ex Machina in spades. I don’t mean to insult youth, or even insult inexperience. But the novel really does read as if it were written by an intelligent twelve-year old trying to sound like an adult.

I will admit that I may not be the right audience for this novel, and I recognize there are others who have read this and enjoyed it. Perhaps I am a snob. And I do think the author deserves credit for putting in a lot of effort, and jumping through the self-publishing hoops. But in the end, I simply could not immerse myself in the book, as I was too distracted by what I felt was amateurish writing.

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White Noise by Don DeLillo

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

White Noise is a post-modern novel. At least that’s what I was told, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to rebel against the label. What’s post-modernism? A reaction to modernism, which was a reaction to realism, which was a reaction to… I don’t know, God, I guess. And we only invented God as a way to explain death, to be less afraid of it. White Noise is about death, and how scary it is.

Don DeLillo’s post-modern novel “deconstructs” otherwise familiar institutions, such as the traditional family, for example. The main character is on his fifth marriage (although two of the previous marriages were to the same woman). He lives with some, but not all, of his children from those previous marriages, and some, but not all, of his current wife’s children from her previous marriage. But this is not a “dysfunctional” family, nor does DeLillo bother to show us how they’re oh-so functional. White Noise portrays things exterior to the labels slapped on them after the fact.

People argue with the main character about the meanings of words, the absurdity of accepting concepts merely as their given or shared by society. Folks are fascinated by trivia, ephemera, the detritus of desiderata. Subjects are taken out of their institutional contexts, stripped of judgement, and then reinserted to perform on their own merits. Or something. Look, I wrote a brilliant review just a few minutes ago, then accidentally deleted it without saving. I am not at all happy about this.

I don’t want to write some kind of critical analysis of the book, I just want to tell you whether you should read it or not, why I gave it four stars. I mean, Don DeLillo, right? He should get five stars, yes? Maybe I’m just not smart enough to get sucked into a book like this, maybe I need more plot, more character development. Usually in these reviews I rant and rave about how bad or good a writer’s prose style comes across. Don DeLillo’s writing is matter-of-fact, which is a good thing in this context. He doesn’t try to impress us with verbal brilliance. Or replace “impress” with “distract.” Or replace “distract” with “fool.” I don’t know if he set out to write a post-modern nove, or if that’s just how he thinks.

But it doesn’t matter what he thinks, but matters is what I think, and what I think is that nothing really matters. I can tell you this, after reading White Noise, I don’t know if I’m eager to read more so-called Post-Modern novels, but I do really want to go watch a few gorgeous sunsets. Not because they’re a symbol of anything. Just to see how beautiful they can be.

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I am a mediocre kind of guy. Always have been. In certain contexts I am outstanding, and in others I am irretrievably lame. But overall, I think, I’m middle-of-the-pack and holding steady. No complaints.

I try to keep up with things, but I don’t try very hard, and sometimes keeping up with things just means paying attention. My point is, this might be old news for you, but for me it’s all very exciting. I’m talking about Pit Droids and Grand Theft Auto 3 and Microsoft Flight.

I had a copy of Pit Droids for my PC a few years after it came out in 2000, and when I saw

it was available in the iPad, I jumped on it with alacrity. I had played all the way through it before, but you know how it is with a good game—reply value is a key element.

But honestly, the reason I snatched it up was for the soundtrack. Back when I first had the game, I used some other program to capture the soundtrack off of my sound card just so I could listen to the songs on my MP3 player. It’s a kind of fun bouncy jazz, with some electronic elements, nods to the Star Wars motion picture soundtracks, all very modern and a bit nostalgic at the same time.

And I am happy report that all of the songs are on the iPad version as well. I am unhappy to report, however, that despite some intensive Googling, I still don’t know for sure who composed the music for the game, or if he/she has done any solo work.

Also new to me, but old in general, is Grand Theft Auto 3 on the iPad. I admit I was reluctant at first to pick this one up, as I didn’t expect to have much agility with the touch controls in place of a joystick. But once again it was the soundtrack I was mostly interested in. Back in 1992 when I played the game on my Playstation 2, I would sometimes turn it on just to listen to the radios in the cars.

Now, I know one can buy these soundtracks outside of the game. But the game itself is still fun to play—and turns out the controls are not so bad. Every once in a while my steering thumb floats and I turn left instead of right. And the shooting can be a bit frustrating. But despite these challenges, I’m finding the game as immersive as I did ten years ago.

Finally, very new is Microsoft Flight, an update to their age-old Flight Simulator game for the PC. And by “update,” I mean they’re offering this new version for free, with the option to purchase extra downloadable content. Six months ago when I got wind of this one I knew I had to have it—I was so eager, I went to the download page the night before it was supposed to be due, and was rewarded with the opportunity to grab it. Lost some sleep that night.

Who knows? Maybe in 10 years, MS Flight will be in available for the KindlePlayPad or whatever and I’ll write you another middle-of-the-road rave about it.

Internecine by David J. Schow

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

In his novel Internecine, David J. Schow uses the word “internecine” a few times, and even has his narrator suggest one “look it up.” Personally, I can’t stand it when writers start a piece with a dictionary definition (my brother-in-law says I have a problem with authority, and he’s right– I denounce any authority the dictionary has been given by the sheep-like masses (what Internecine‘s narrator would call “the walking dead”)) and while this novel doesn’t explicitly do that, it might has well have, amiright?

This is, indeed, the story of one man’s struggle against some kind of organization, an innocent caught up in a spy-vs-spy plot more complicated than this analogy is attempting to be. It’s the second book I’ve read in the last few weeks where the main character is dragged along a whirlwind plot that barely gives him time to rest. The kind of thing we too-readily accept and even expect in our action-thriller movies. I’m making assumptions, of course, but I got to believe these guys are writing novels they hope will be easily rewritten for the screen.

Which is a not a bad thing, necessarily, although I am complaining about it. Juxtaposed with this break-neck pacing–couched in terms of man in over his head– are almost countless lectures about how the world works. How Hollywood, Madison Avenue, Politics, Espionage, and Day-to-Day Drudgery all work. You see the contradiction there? It’s almost hypocritical.

Yeah, it’s all explained in the end, via a neat little “Afterword” that seeks to justify the narrator’s voice. I think I would have enjoyed the book more– or cut it more slack, anyway– if I had read that section first.

I’ll say this for Schow, though, his prose style is just fine– slick, tight, compelling. And although I am complaining about the non-stop action, at least he knows how to make it beleivable. He can thank the movies for that, somewhat, in as much as I’ve learned to suspend my disbeleif and allow for a few super-human acts of parkour/marksmanship/strategizing/luck. You know what I mean. Leaping over a table to kick the first bad guy into the second bad guy so he shoots the third bad guy.

Folks who love deep-spy type books won’t like this one too much, as it’s got more gunplay that plot. But folks who love run-n-gun style shoot ’em ups won’t like this book either, as what plot it does have is nearly serpentine. So who will like this book? Folks who like to read movies, I guess.

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The Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I’d seen this book around and shied away from it for no good reason. Don’t know why or how I overcame my initial reluctance but I’m glad I did. The Necromancer is a fun little book and I’m looking forward to reading the sequels.

The story itself, I have to say, was a bit meager. Johannes Cabal’s been given a demonic carnival so he can harvest 100 souls for Satan, all within one year’s time. We get to see him pluck a few at the beginning, but then we jump to the end when there’s only a few days and a few souls left to go. As a writer, I can sympathize with Jonathan Howard’s challenges, since getting through all of that time and all of those characters would be tough, especially in a book as light-hearted as this. But as a reader, I felt a little let-down.

Also, since I’m complaining: the narrative shifts perspective for a few moments in a few places, and I didn’t care for that much. Seems a bit inconsistent. But then, there was a lot about this book that reminded me of Terry Pratchett, and he does that sort of thing all the time. So maybe I should cut Howard some slack. (Please note: that Pratchett comment is meant as high praise.)

Despite these complaints, like I said, I did enjoy the book, and if we’re proclaiming who’s got talent, Howard does in spades. I enjoyed seeing Johannes deal with Hell’s gatekeeper, deal with his brother, deal with the carnival’s infernal denizans. If, towards the end, when he’s dealing with an actual nemesis, and it feels a bit “too little too late,” maybe the sequels will be better.

So three stars for the first book, and I’m going to hold the next one up to a tougher standard. Expectations!

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