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A Year in Reading: 2009 2004 | 2005 | 2006 | 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2011 | 2012 The companion piece to my film log, the book log keeps a listing of everything I've read over the course of a year, as well as giving me a place to type up a short review. As a handy reference, the book title of each listing provides links to the Amazon page for the book. Starting in 2009, I began providing star ratings of the books I read. The ratings are out of five stars, with five stars being equivalent to an A, 4½ to an A-/B+, four to a B, and so on. |
| 12-31 | The
Girl Who Played With Fire, by Stieg Larsson  |
Much like its predecessor, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played With Fire is a thriller deeply concerned with the crimes of the past and how they affect both the present and the characters of the book. However, while Tattoo was a little more distant from its past, the past in Fire is far more active - and more dangerous. Just as Tattoo took an old mystery staple (the locked-room murder) and took it in entirely new and different directions, Fire takes on the old plot where a character is connected to a series of murders and must prove their innocence. However, in one of many great reversals, one of the brilliant touches Larsson throws in is a deep sense of uncertainty of just how innocent Salander is of the crimes - something that really isn't resolved one way or the other until very near the end of the book, a fact that creates a magnificent sense of unease that permeates the book. It's just one of many decisions that makes Fire such a gripping read. Larsson takes his time in establishing his characters and constructing a great world for them to inhabit, and by the time the plot starts rolling, all of what happens seems genuinely character-driven and logical, and we're genuinely tense about the outcomes of dangerous situations - and genuinely shocked at points where things go differently than we expect (particularly one jaw-dropper near the end). But of course, no book review would be complete without mentioning Lisbeth Salander, whose past becomes the key mystery of Fire. Salander is one of the more interesting and compelling characters in thrillers as of late, and Fire gives us (and Larsson) the chance to really delve into this character and find out what makes her tick, creating even more depth and intrigue in an already fascinating creation. It's really a shame that Larsson died, because the idea of a 10-12 book series about these characters really sounds great. Unfortunately, we're limited to three, but as long as they're this good, it's hard to complain too much. |
| 12-28 | Meditations in Green, by Stephen Wright  |
It's obvious, having read the two so close to each other, that Meditations in Green is heavily influenced and inspired by Catch-22, but it's also obvious that whatever its genesis, Meditations is a wholly unique work. Like Catch-22, Wright takes a massive array of characters and creates a book more about episodes than a cohesive narrative; while it's not as train-of-thought as Heller's work, it's still wandering from story to story, jumping from character to character. But while Catch-22 is laugh out loud funny, Meditations is filled with the sort of humor that always seems to arise from books about Vietnam - that dark, brooding humor than only results in uncomfortable silence from those of us who weren't there. There's also unimaginable horrors here, as well as copious drug use; in other words, it's definitely Catch-22 filtered through the Vietnam experience. But the feel of the book is wholly different. There are no innocents in Wright's world, only less damaged people, and no one comes out unscathed. "It meant there were cliffs where he once assumed there were fences," Wright writes about a character who discovers unpleasant truths about the war, and that feeling of trying to cope with and comprehend the horrors of Vietnam permeate the book. But what will always set apart Wright's work, especially Meditations, is the masterful writing. Wright brings a wholly new dialogue and language to the book, crafting images of the jungle as massive, abandoned hotels, or creating a nightmarish firework display and a torn, leaking sky out of a midnight gun battle as observed by stoned soldiers. The combination all adds up to a book unlike anything you have ever read, creating an experience that lingers in a visceral, vibrant way long after the book is done. There's no through message here, no central metaphor, no ability to laugh at the war; there are only survival techniques - be they drugs, insanity, routine - and horrors. What Wright creates is one of the finest, most literate, and most sadly neglected books about Vietnam ever written. An unknown masterpiece. |
| 12-21 | Jonathan
Strange and Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke |
I've always described Jonathan Strange as a fusion of Jane Austen and Harry Potter, but rereading the book makes me wonder how accurate that is. Yes, the book plays with the same world and social circles that Austen wrote about, and creates as vibrant and indelible a portrait of the times as Austen ever did. And, like Rowling, Clarke creates a world where magic is just another fact of life. But limiting a comparison to those two authors ends up missing out on so much of what makes this novel wonderful. Sure, the Potter books are filled with magic, but while Rowling treats magic as just another task, Clarke creates magic that fills the reader with a true sense of wonder and awe, treating the subject as something monumental, not mundane. And while Clarke still writes of the upper-class, she also writes greatly about lower classes, creating a London that feels as much of Dickens as Austen. But there's so much more to write about - her plotting, which allows the characters to breathe and yet spins a far tighter web than you'll realize at first; her characters, who feel like true, living, breathing people; her depiction of magical worlds; her rich and complex mythology; her sense of history...the list goes on and on. When you start reading Strange and Norrell, you feel as though you're entering into a rich world you could explore forever; when the final page turns, you're saddened for having to leave it behind. Clarke has created a modern masterpiece, telling her tale about two men, their friendship and rivalry, and how they reshaped England. It's the story of fairies, magic, seduction, glamour, power, war, love, and more, and it's one of the richest and most satisfying books I've ever read. |
| 12-12 | Catch-22,
by Joseph Heller |
I first read Catch-22 in high school, and ever since have held it to be my all-time favorite book. So it was with some trepidation that I cracked it back open as an adult. Would it hold up? Thankfully, it did more than hold up; it turns out that it's even better than I remember. It's not just Heller's brilliant, through the looking glass logic that makes Catch-22 so remarkable, even though that logic leads to innumerable laugh-out-loud hilarious passages and too many brilliant sequences to count (my personal favorite may always be the sudden moaning outbreak). Had the book merely been a brilliant and hilarious piece of satire, I would have enjoyed it, but it wouldn't be the classic that it is. What makes Catch-22 absolutely unforgettable is the deep layer of melancholy and rage that underlies the satire and drives the book. I've always held that one of the hardest things to do in any medium is mix genres, and I'm always impressed when someone does it well. In Catch-22, Heller mixes drama, comedy, romance, and war story together without even blinking, and slides so effortlessly between them that you go from laughing to horror in the blink of an eye. It's this juxtapositioning that gives the book so much of its power - the transition, for instance, from Yossarian's insane arguing with Danby to the horrific fate of poor, doomed Snowden remains one of the most effective and haunting passages of any book I have ever read. There has never been another book like Catch-22 - even Heller never wrote anything this brilliant again (although Something Happened is a minor gem of an altogether different sort). But given how incredible this book is - how funny, how touching, how haunting, how powerful, how brilliant - who can complain? With its spectacular and wonderful set of characters, its trenchant and hilarious take on the military mind, and Heller's masterful writing, Catch-22 remains the finest book I have ever read. |
| 12-3 | Generation
Kill, by Evan Wright |
It's not surprising that the creators of The Wire would latch on to Generation Kill and make it into the remarkable miniseries that they did. Generation Kill tells the story of the Marines First Recon division and their incursion into Iraq in the first days of the war, and much like The Wire, examines the story not through a preconceived political lens, not through a predetermined narrative like "Heroic Americans to the Rescue" or "Villainous Baby-Killers Who Destroyed a Country", but as they were, embracing and exploring the contradictions, nuances, and complexities of the situation. The men of First Recon, as depicted by Evan Wright, are neither perfect examples of patriotism nor mindless killing machines, but something far more affecting: they are men. Wright's asides and analysis are fascinating, but he largely removes himself from the tale, allowing the men to tell their own story and letting them express themselves. There are moments of hilarity (presuming you can tolerate the book's gallows humor), moments of absolute rage (largely at some truly incompetent commanders), moments of indescribable horror, and moments of incredible pain. These men go through incredible things, and if Generation Kill accomplishes anything, it removes the political context from the war and forces the reader to appreciate what these men give up and undergo in the name of the country. Much like the incredible United 93, Generation Kill makes its story all the more admirable and moving by not insulting the reader's intelligence. There are moments in this book which I will never forget, and not for their beauty; there are things that no one should ever have to see happen. And yet, these men see them, and for that they deserve our respect and our admiration. Generation Kill is among the finest books on war I have ever read, and if I had my way, I would make every American alive read it. Whether you are pro-war or anti-war, Generation Kill will make you think and challenge your assumptions, and while it provides no easy answers, its complexities and depth should be essential for every American to ponder. |
| 11-28 | Catching
Fire, by Suzanne Collins |
While I really enjoyed The Hunger Games greatly, I have to admit that I wasn't quite sure what merited a sequel. The original book is seemingly a self-contained tale, and while there were definitely some interesting threads left to explore, the question of how to explore them seemed to be the big hurdle. So kudos to Ms. Collins for not only writing a sequel that expands on the original in every way, but does so in such a way that it never feel unnecessary, unneeded, or unplanned. Essentially, Catching Fire does two things: it gives a more in-depth look at the dystopian world that Collins has created, and it pushes the plot towards something more far-reaching than just the games: the threat of rebellion and civil war. I said in my review of Hunger Games that Collins had created a fascinating world, and Catching Fire only confirms that; the more details and background we get on Panem, the more complex and fully-realized we begin to realize Collins's world is. There are some who have complained that Catching Fire suffers from "middle book" syndrome, in that it's largely setting up for the final book, but I disagree; there's enough new material here, enough exploration of Katniss and the other surviving main characters from the first book, and enough slow weaving of the plot threads (with some truly stunning twists along the way) that I found myself gripped. Katniss is a great character - far from the bland, do-nothing heroine of some major series (I won't name names, but it rhymes with Bi-light), she's complex, self-empowered, and not always the most heroic - in other words, she's a teenager, through and through. Much like The Hunger Games, Catching Fire is part adventure story, part detailing of the effects of war and battle, part social commentary, and it all somehow works, and (in my opinion) even outdoes the first book. It's a great read that solidifies my feelings about the series; I was curious about book two, but I absolutely cannot wait for book three to arrive. |
| 11-24 | Lords
and Ladies, by Terry Pratchett |
For anyone who reads the Discworld books out of order (like me), Lords and Ladies will probably remind you a little of Carpe Jugulum (even though it came first, and Jugulum should really remind you of Lords, but let's not argue over chronology, shall we?). And yet, while Jugulum is good but a bit muddled, Lords takes what is essentially the same story (a malevolent force attempts to take over Lancre and the witches are all that stand in its way) and does it better, tightening the focus and giving the characters more room to breathe. It doesn't hurt things that the threat here is handled more strongly; while the vampires in Jugulum seemed like ineffectual boors, the elves here seem legitimately malicious, and Pratchett does a masterful slow burn working up to their appearance. Add to that a fascinating look at Granny Weatherwax's one true love, more wonderfully surreal philosophical conversations between Ridcully and Stibbons, more Librarian, and a great Shakespeare riff, and you have another wondrous Discworld novel. It's my favorite novel of the witches so far, and while I don't love them the way I love the Watch, there's no denying that even Pratchett's minor characters are more fully realized and complex than some writers will ever manage in their whole career, and the witches are no exception. |
| 11-19 | Under
the Dome, by Stephen King |
The best way to describe Under the Dome is that it feels like Stephen King's take on a Twilight Zone episode - and that's a very good thing. Much like Twilight Zone, Under the Dome pretty much takes a single, simple conceit - in this case, the imprisonment of a small Maine town under a clear but impenetrable dome - and then sits back and watches the human reaction. And, as any serious reader of King knows, if there's anything the man does well, it's write characters, and Under the Dome is some of his best work on that front in years. As a matter of fact, Under the Dome features almost no supernatural happenings at all, and the ones that are there are either of questionable reality or connected to the Dome itself. And yet, as simple as the situation is, the novel is unquestionably one of King's most complex works, juggling over a hundred characters as the situation in town evolves from panic to something far darker, pushed by one of King's most memorable and hateful villains in years, Big Jim Rennie. Under the Dome works on any number of levels - as a study of how power corrupts, as a study of how quickly society breaks down, as a scathing critique of fundamentalism - but more than anything, it's a gripping thriller that rockets along so quickly you're almost sad that the book is only 1100 pages long. As Under the Dome builds to its spectacular finale, you won't be able to put the book down, and trust me, the ending is well worth the wait. Filled with memorable characters, written with beautiful prose, morally complex and thoughtful, Under the Dome is an absolute knockout from King - all the more impressive considering how it eschews the horror genre in favor of a look at a much more terrifying monster...ourselves. |
| 11-12 | The
Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins |
A really entertaining and exciting teen read that's far edgier than I expected. Any number of people have already made the connection to Battle Royale, but reading The Hunger Games not two days after watching the film again made the connection seem very obvious. After all, both are about a government attempting to keep its population in line via a brutal competition; both feature teenagers and young children battling to the death; both feature shocking displays of violence from said young people. But for all the hoopla and complaints, the tone, execution, and themes of the two pieces couldn't be more different. The Hunger Games plays the competition far more seriously than Royale, eschewing the latter's social satire in favor of focusing on the effect of this warfare on those who participate. Beyond that, Hunger Games touches on the psychological warfare of government, the power of media, and even the effectiveness of propaganda. To be sure, there's a couple of teen-bait plot threads involving romance, but they don't reduce from the overall greatness of the book. Hunger Games is surprisingly unflinching and creates a fascinating world I'm very curious about, and sets up enough interesting plot threads to leave me very ready to check out book two of the series. |
| 11-10 | Educating
Esmé, by Esmé Raji Codell  |
I have little doubt, from reading her diary of her first year in teaching, that Ms. Codell is probably a pretty great teacher. Her classroom projects were typically interesting and rich, and it was clear on almost every page how much she truly loved her kids. And I'll even grant the argument that, by virtue of being about teaching in an inner-city school, Educating Esmé would open some people's eyes to the realities of teaching in a less advantaged area. So why did I hate this book, if I have all these nice things to say? Because of Codell herself. Educating Esmé feels less like a diary of teaching and more like self-congratulatory hype in which Codell is the brilliant light in the darkness that saves kids and everyone around her are backward savages who don't appreciate her genius. At first, I thought this was just the naivety of a first year teacher; however, by book's end, Codell's attitude hasn't changed except in that it's grown more surly towards people who don't appreciate what a free spirit she is. I don't doubt that Ms. Codell did a lot of good for her kids; the problem is that Codell is convinced that she's a genius teacher, and her ego, self-righteousness, and condescension made this book absolutely unbearable and really took away from whatever good she accomplished. By the end, I found myself wondering how many of these incidents had really happened, and how much were just Codell's memories of how things went. |
| 11-9 | Pursuit,
by Thomas Perry  |
On a purely plot level, Pursuit is a great read about a professional killer and the man hired to stop him. The book plays out like an elaborate chess game, and some of the setpieces - most notably a showdown in an old farm house - are thrilling both as action pieces and as windows into the intelligent, crafty minds of the characters. And yet, as much fun as I have with the story, Pursuit never reads as half as good of a book as it should. Perry keeps an emotional distance from all the characters that makes thematic sense but makes the duels hard to care about. But it hurts the non-action scenes even worse - for instance, there's a long period in which both characters go dormant in which the book flounders for a lack of an emotional hook into any of the internal crises going on. Pursuit would make a hell of a movie - done right, it would be a great mix of The Professional and a 70s character drama (it might be a lot like The Hit, even), but as a book, a great story is wasted with an execution that leaves the book just laying flat on the page, wishing it had some more life and interest. |
| 11-3 | Sibs,
by F. Paul Wilson  |
Wilson has always said that Sibs was a bit of a fluke - a book that simply flew out of him quickly and really wasn't much like anything else he'd done. In some ways, he's right; Sibs is definitely one of Wilson's more sexual stories in some ways, even though his idea of "shocking" behavior isn't quite the same as mine (maybe some of the datedness of the book?). That doesn't make the tale - which starts with the odd death of a twin sister and continues with multiple personality disorders, haunting dreams, hypnosis, and some truly bizarre twists - any less fun to read. The twists aren't quite as hard to guess as the book thinks, but as a pure thrill ride, Sibs is a lot of fun - it's a great little horror tale that feels like a great short story stretched to book length. There's definitely a little fat that could have been trimmed - most notably the Bannion character, who adds little to the plot of importance - but taken as Wilson's entry into the B-level horror genre, it's a lot of fun. I'm surprised it's never been picked up as a movie, as this would make a fun little genre picture. |
| 10-31 | The
Wind from the Sun, by Arthur C. Clarke |
A solid collection of Clarke's short story output during the 1960s. As a collection, it's not as solid as The Nine Billion Names of God, which was more of a "best of" collection; nonetheless, it's a lot of fun to read through, and nicely demonstrates Clarke's skill at sci-fi, whether it's epic in scope or even light and fun. There's a lot of Clarke's "stinger" stories here (stories with that closing last line that either twists everything or provides the whopper of a conclusion), and they're fun, but more impressive are some of his more luxurious, relaxed stories. The title story, for instance, details a remarkable race on solar winds, and Clarke's patience and grasp not only of pacing but also of the beauties of his world give the story a remarkable feel. The collection ends with "A Meeting with Medusa," a story that reminded me a lot of Lovecraft's "At the Mountains of Madness" - not as a horror tale, but more as an exploration of an utterly alien land, with loving detail that truly creates an image for the reader. If you can find The Nine Billion Names of God, it's a better collection, but you could do far worse than this for a demonstration of why Clarke is such an essential name in science fiction. |
| 10-29 | Hard
Revolution, by George Pelecanos |
Another knockout from Pelecanos, who proves as adroit at evoking the 1960s as the present. Flashing back to the early life of Derek Strange (introduced in the excellent Right as Rain), Pelecanos spins a story of a country in transition, most notably focusing on the assassination of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. It would be easy to spin the events of the book, which detail both how Strange came to be a policeman and why he abandoned the job, as a simple coming of age/loss of innocence story, but Pelecanos has too much intelligence and respect for his characters to do that. Instead, he weaves a complicated tapestry involving Strange's brother, a trio of white kids thinking about a big score, some local drug dealers, and the country's tension during the civil rights movement. As always, Pelecanos's stories are as much about their environment as their characters, and Hard Revolution is no exception, as DC becomes a microcosm for the country during the turbulent times. But more than that, Hard Revolution is a compelling story about a man realizing who he really is, and the fact that Pelecanos does so while side-stepping cliches and sermonizing is a treat in of itself. |
| 10-23 | Audrey's
Door, by Sarah Langan |
Langan's first two books, The Keeper and The Missing, showed a ton of promise - here was an author who took the town-wide horror of Ghost Story or It and could really do it justice, bringing both a creeping sense of dread and a true sense of utter evil and give it all a unique feeling that I hadn't found in a long time in horror. So I went in to Audrey's Door with high hopes...and it blew them out of the water. In her author's note, Langan thanks the films of Roman Polanski, and when you find out that the novel is set in an apartment building which may or may not be haunted, your first thought is Rosemary's Baby. And yet, Audrey's Door is far more Repulsion than Rosemary, focusing on a young single woman whose mind is beginning to fracture as a result of a traumatic childhood, some psychological problems, and a sudden stint of isolation. Simply as a psychological portrait of a deteriorating psyche, Audrey's Door is a knockout, but when you add in the Breviary, her apartment building which seems to be influencing towards the odd goal of building a door, the book becomes something else entirely. I really can't say enough good things about this book; it mixes the internal terrors of Audrey's past/present artfully with the subtle menace of the Breviary and its inhabitants, and the payoffs are huge, with some of the most unnerving and creepy scenes I've read in a horror novel in some time. But what has made Langan's books truly great so far is her strong grasp of characters, making the reader invested in what happens to these people, and Audrey's Door is no exception, as we hope against hope that Audrey can overcome not only the malevolent forces which may be spooling against her and her own mind. It's a great horror novel, and cements Langan's status for me as one of the best new horror writers of recent memory. |
| 10-17 | Carpe
Jugulum,
by Terry Pratchett |
While I love Pratchett's complex and gleefully intricate plotting, there are times in his books where it feels as though he loses track of it a little bit along the way. Or, perhaps, to put it better, he knows exactly what's going on, but loses the reader a little along the way. Such is the case with Carpe Jugulum, which begins with a royal birth and ends up containing violent gnomes, modern vampires, a traditionalist Igor, a phoenix, several cases of possession, religion, and witches. Juggling that many elements isn't a problem for Pratchett, who brings something interesting and novel to each of them, most notably in the form of the Omnian priest, a character which works as a continuation of the themes began in Small Gods (a book which is referenced directly here). The problem is that not all of the elements feel necessary, and by the book's end, I was a little confused as to what some of them had to do with anything. Still, I enjoyed all of the scenes, even if some went nowhere, and that goes a long way to excusing the book's faults. It's definitely second-tier Pratchett (with the exception of the Omnian priest storyline, which is brilliant), but that merely means that it's "very good" and not "excellent". |
| 10-11 | Ghost
Story, |
As I commented in my recent "25 Essential Books" piece, I really credit Ghost Story with getting me hooked on horror fiction beyond Stephen King, but I've always been reluctant to revisit it, fearing it wouldn't hold up. Turns out, I should have done this sooner; not only did the book hold up, it surpassed my memories of it by a long shot. What I remembered of Ghost Story was a book that took a while to get going, but really exploded into a massive nightmare by the end. However, what struck me as I reread the book was how masterfully Straub builds to the horrors of the book's final third. There's no doubt that Straub takes his time, building up Milburn and its characters patiently and only doling out unease in small doses, and I don't doubt that this pacing turns a lot of people off of the book. However, taking the book as a whole, it's a testament to Straub's skill how well he lays the foundation, setting up for long distant payoffs so subtly that you won't even notice until you think back. The other thing that struck me is how inventive the tale is. From the title onward, Ghost Story sets up the reader with certain expectations, but it finds joy in subverting them in every way possible, even upending your assumptions about the reason for everything that happens. From its opening pages, Ghost Story seems to be a tale of hidden sin and payback from beyond the grave, focusing around a group of old men known as the Chowder Society, but Straub has a lot more up his sleeve, and by the time you're into Act III, the horrors are everywhere, leading to some of the most unsettling and unnerving scenes in modern horror fiction (with my favorite being a showdown in an abandoned theater). Even all these years later, I've never read anything quite like Ghost Story, and its command of dread, unease, and ambiguity all combine to make it a masterpiece of the horror genre for those who want more than just gore. |
| 10-4 | Interesting
Times, by Terry Pratchett |
Every time I pick up a new Discworld book, I always feel a little anxiety. With one exception (Monstrous Regiment), I've loved every one I've read, and I feel like I'm overdue for a misfire. And yet, time after time, I'm blown away by the hilarious writing, the brilliant plotting, and the incisive satire. Interesting Times, in which Rincewind is sent to Discworld's version of China in an effort to prevent (or maybe start) a massive civil war, is no different, except that it's so good that it manages to become one of my favorites of the series in one read. Pratchett tosses in so much - Rincewind, scheming dynasties, a plot to kill the emperor, folk legends, an invading barbarian horde (of sorts), a retired teacher attempting to teach said barbarians some manners, and that's just for starters - that almost any other author would lose their way. Instead, Pratchett juggles it all beautifully, tying together all the disparate threads so neatly and smoothly that you never see the collisions until you're upon them. The fact that he does it all while making me laugh out loud and embarrass myself in public - well, that's just icing. But what really sets apart Interesting Times for me is its quiet but firm stance on war. The message it carries - about the disconnect between those ordering the fighting and those doing the fighting - is hardly a new one, but it's executed with such quiet power and grace that it gives the book even greater impact. In the end, I loved every second of the book, and as it drew to a close, I only wished that it was longer - and I can't think of any higher praise to offer to a book than that. |
| 9-23 | South
of Broad, by Pat Conroy |
After almost fifteen years without a novel, Pat Conroy returns to writing, and the results are pretty good - but not great. There's a lot to love about South of Broad, from its warm depiction of friends and their relationships to his fascinatingly flawed families, to say nothing of his often beautiful prose (although there are a few points where it gets excessive, none worse than the lengthy and dull prologue). But it's the plot that deeply weakens South of Broad. It feels as though Conroy has had about a dozen ideas for books between Beach Music and now, and they all end up in here, and by the time you reach the climax, which juggles a hurricane, a serial killer, revelations about characters' pasts, family crises, and more, the book just feels overstuffed. It's not a deal-breaker for me; in the end, Conroy tends to write melodrama, and South of Broad is no exception - if the plot is excessive, well, that can go along with the genre. But by the end of the book, it all gets a little exhausting, and I couldn't help but think that the book might have worked better as a series of short stories than as a novel. Still, I can't deny that I enjoyed the book a lot. It's not Conroy's best - far from it - or his most believable, but it's an enjoyable read, filled with lots of great scenes and moments. It's all just a little over the top. |
| 9-17 | Ground
Zero, by F. Paul Wilson |
With only two books to go in the Jack series (a fact which deeply saddens me), it's not surprising that Ground Zero offers a lot of answers and some major revelations, twists, and surprises. Nor should it be any surprise that this is not a book for new fans; if you haven't read at least the previous two books, this won't make any sense at all. As a longtime fan of the series, it all makes glorious, dreadful sense to me, but I can't deny that I kind of miss the lighter tone and greater fun of the earlier books in the series. The newer books - especially these last three, which are one long, continuous story which still has two books to go - are a little more frustrating, both in their lack of immediate closure and in their sense of Jack's being somewhat powerless against the forces massing against him. All of that being said, I can't deny that I was gripped from page one, and my only true gripe is wanting more (especially given the non-ending of the book). I may miss the "fix-its" of the earlier books, but Wilson's plotting, mood, and character development has really shone through in these latest books, and as soon as one ends, I'm ready for the next. And while I say that Ground Zero isn't for new fans, that's a bit of a shame - from turning conspiracy theories on their head to his ever-expanding cosmology, from Jack's reunion with an old friend to his relationships with Gia, Abe, and Vicky, from the unsettling scenes in a basement to the spectacular finale, Ground Zero is a perfect example of the kind of thing Wilson does well. In short, here's the most telling thing I can say: I wish the next book were out already. |
| 9-14 | By
the Sword, by F. Paul Wilson |
A direct continuation of the events which began in Bloodline (seriously: don't bother reading this if you haven't read at least the preceding book, Bloodline, if not the whole series), By the Sword benefits massively from a back-to-back reading from a story perspective. It's far easier to keep track of all the characters and the various plot threads, which makes it a little frustrating that Wilson feels the need to inject a new object to hunt and not one but three different groups hunting it, in addition to Jack's current problems. There's no denying that By the Sword has some great action scenes and some of the most exciting sequences of the series, and it's fun to watch Wilson tying the various threads together (in the style of his admitted influence Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels) to make one spectacular final showdown. But I worry that this is a lot of sound and fury that won't mean much; while the titular sword is obviously important, I hope that the various groups involved in this one matter more to the overall story than just showing up briefly and disappearing, especially since some of the motivations seem awfully vague. This is a lot of new characters and threads dropped into an already dense mythology, and Wilson typically has a strong payoff planned out; unfortunately, given the open-ended nature of these books, it's hard to see the endgame and to know whether this all means something or is just a distraction. Still, more satisfying than Bloodline, with some old-fashioned scheming by Jack and some great showdowns. |
| 9-12 | Bloodline,
by F. Paul Wilson |
And so Act III of the Repairman Jack series begins. You'll like Bloodline a lot more if you realize that it doesn't really reach a satisfying endpoint; starting in By the Sword, Wilson started adding an author's note that explained that the last five books were going to really be one continuous story, and that endings wouldn't be neat and tidy; I think, had that note been on Bloodline the first I read it, I wouldn't have been quite so frustrated when I read it. Knowing that the events continue in By the Sword, Bloodline is a great read, setting up a new set of questions and pushing things closer and closer to the final showdown between Jack and the Otherness. That being said, the book is still really heavy on the setup, so much so that it feels as though we're waiting for a payoff that we never really get. Part of the reason I was so frustrated with the book on my first read was because it felt as though it raised a lot of questions and then ended, and even with the "flowing" setup of these last books, Bloodline feels a little too-open ended. Still, while it may be heavy on setup, it's always rewarding to spend time with Jack, and watching Wilson navigate the aftermath of Harbingers and the changes to his characters' lives is rewarding. Just don't plan on starting the series here, and you'll be happier if you have By the Sword ready to go after you finish this one. |
| 9-7 | Harbingers,
by F. Paul Wilson |
The culmination to what I think of as Act II in the Jack series (with Act II beginning in The Haunted Air), Harbingers is the most emotional and draining of the Jack series to date, and one that marked the beginning of the end for the series. Already reeling from the events of the last few books, Jack finds himself reluctantly drawn into what looks to be an easy fix. On the way, however, he runs into a group of men that will change everything. Part of what makes Harbingers so great is the fact that there are some legitimate, solid answers for the first time in a long time here; not only does Wilson wrap up long-running questions, but he ties together loose ends and even answers questions we didn't know we had. Of course, the satisfaction of the plot would be enough, but it's the shift that occurs halfway through the novel that everyone remembers, and the resulting fallout and reaction by Jack make for one of Wilson's most compelling and heartbreaking works to date. Harbingers is the rare transitional book (into the final stretch of the series) that's more than satisfying enough on its own, and still ranks to me as the best of the series to date. As the darkness grows thicker in the series, Wilson just keeps getting better and better; if there's a downside to Harbingers, it's knowing that it's clearly setting things up for a finale that'll be coming all too soon. |
| 9-7 | Crisscross,
by F. Paul Wilson |
Rereading some of the Jack books before the new one's release, it occurs to me that Crisscross is to the Jack books what Goblet of Fire was to the Potter world: the book in which the tone of the series begins a slow change to darkness. Up until Crisscross, while one could never say that the books were light or inconsequential, the general tone was one of fun and adventure rather than darkness and despair. But all of that starts to change in Crisscross, a change that will ultimately lead to some major changes in Jack's life a few books down the road. Crisscross takes one of Wilson's most enjoyable patterns - two unrelated situations that slowly get tied together - and pushes them in new directions. Even though we've seen situations like this before - a blackmail plot and a potentially dangerous cult - Wilson has more on his mind than before, and the plotting here goes much further than we've come to expect from the books, all coming together in a finale as thrilling as it is telling about Jack's character. Full of the expansive cosmology, fascinating characters, and brilliant plotting that has made the series so great, Crisscross is one of the most effective works in an already brilliant series, and (as you'll no doubt see when you've read more of the series) an important turning point in the Jack saga. |
| 9-7 | The
Strain, by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan |
Stumbling on a copy of this in a used bookstore, how could I not be intrigued? A novel co-written by del Toro? An epic horror saga? The hope of a vampire story that doesn't completely suck? And, I'm happy to say, The Strain by and large delivers, even if it's not quite the greatness I was hoping for. That being said, the opening quarter of the book is pure dynamite - its tale of a plane that lands and immediately shuts down is mined for pure creepiness and terror, and I loved the way del Toro and Hogan knew just how long they could stretch the tension. As the story expands, there's a lot to be thrilled by - the apocalyptic feeling, some truly unsettling nighttime attacks and encounters, the unique and horrifying rendition of vampires - and some disappointments, including some somewhat generic characters and a couple of silly moments (most notably in the final showdown). Still, there's enough glimpses of something far bigger and more intricate, especially towards the end of the book, that I'm pretty well guaranteed to at least pick up book two, if not three. Knowing it's book one of a trilogy gives me a little more patience with some of the more obscure elements (for instance, there seems to be little rhyme or reason to what parts of vampire lore del Toro and Hogan keep and what they toss), but the keen grasp of horror and adventure, to say nothing of the epic feel of it all, had me more than hooked for hours straight on this one. Very curious to see what comes next. |
| 9-5 | Right
as Rain, by George P. Pelecanos |
Of the Pelecanos books that I've read so far (The Night Gardener, The Sweet Forever), Right as Rain is definitely the simplest and the closest to a conventional mystery novel. Unlike Gardener, Right As Rain remains focused on one case - here, the shooting of a black off-duty police officer by a white cop - and thoroughly explores the case. And unlike Forever, Pelecanos narrows his focus here, essentially relying on two characters - a private investigator named Derek Strange and Terry Quinn, the white cop from that incident. And yet, "simple" doesn't mean "simplistic," as Pelecanos deftly proves here. While the incident at the book's core is relatively simple, Pelecanos uses it as a jumping off point, exploring guilt, racism, drugs, obsession, and more, crafting a complex tale of two men searching for redemption and purpose in two very different ways. More fascinatingly still, Pelecanos has created a whodunit where the question is not "who?" or "what?" but "why?" - a far more complex query, and one that may never be satisfactorily answered. Like Richard Price, Pelecanos's novels are rooted in their strong characters, and Right as Rain is no exception. But what makes Pelecanos so masterful is the way that these characters manage to stand in for so much more going on in society and our world, all while remaining individuals that drive a story about people, not the world. Superb stuff; while I haven't read much Pelecanos, every one so far has been a winner. |
| 8-24 | You
Don't Love Me Yet, by Jonathan Lethem |
A disappointment from the usually reliable Lethem, You Don't Love Me Yet features all the quality prose you'd expect, but lacks the strong characters and plots I've come to love from him. You Don't Love Me Yet feels a lot like it should be from the Lethem era of Gun, with Occasional Music, with its piles of quirks and satirical look at the world around us. But whereas Gun's quirks were only the beginning, hooking the reader with an intriguing mystery and an unexpectedly powerful finale, You Don't Love Me Yet ends up feeling like the quirk and satire is all the depth there is. There are some marvelous and wonderful scenes - the description of the first perception's of a band's debut is fantastic - but in general, it all feels a little empty and pointless, filled with unengaging characters, toothless satire, and a story that feels vague to the point of formlessness. I love Lethem's work, by and large, but his last couple of novels have left me a little disappointed; here's hoping he returns to the genius of his early work soon. |
| 8-22 | Tyrannosaur
Canyon, by Douglas Preston  |
Preston's followup to The Codex is a bit of a disappointment - and I didn't even love The Codex that much, fun though it was. Tyrannosaur Canyon starts off intriguingly, but whenever a book suggests that the subject of its quest could change the world, the big reveal of that subject can make or break the book - and here it definitely breaks it. The bad guys' motivations fall apart and don't hold up, especially given what we know, and the earlier scenes seem unnecessary and weak. It's a shame, because the early scenes promise an intriguing mystery and a great treasure hunt; however, by the time that Preston starts inventing characters who conveniently can do whatever the plot needs (I'm mainly thinking of the code-breaking former CIA monk here), you soon start feeling a little let down by it. And the less said about the lackluster ending, the better. At least The Codex really moved, never allowing you to focus on the implausibilities; Canyon, by contrast, can't move fast enough to escape its problems. Big disappointment. |
| 8-17 | The
Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer |
Before I get to the meat of the review, a note: if you're interested in reading The Canterbury Tales, I can't emphasize enough how wonderful the David Wright translation is (it's in the Oxford World's Classics version). Modernized but accurate, understandable but poetic, Wright balances a love of the language with a firm desire to tell the tales, and the result really allows you to savor the tales easily. As for the tales themselves - what could I possibly add? From the opening lines of prologue - which gives about as sprawling and detailed a glimpse into medieval life as you'll ever get - to a closing note written by an older (and somewhat more penitent) Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales are a marvelous set of stories. With tales ranging from dueling lovers to divided farts, from the lives of saints to hot pokers in asses, The Canterbury Tales show that there was a far greater richness, humor, and even baseness to life than we often get from history books. But none of that would matter if the tales and characters weren't as rich and wonderful as they are. The comedies are hilarious, the tragedies moving - but it all comes back to those pilgrims, a group whose richness lingers long after you finish the story. I really love this translation, and I wish it could get more recognition, as I think people would really enjoy reading the tales; whether you're an English major or just a reader, they're really a lot of fun. |
| 8-15 | Pride
and Prejudice and Zombies, by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith |
As much as I enjoyed this book, I genuinely wonder if there are enough people in the world to be the right audience for it. In a way, I'm the ideal candidate to read this book. First of all, I'm a sucker for horror movies in general; the concept of adding zombies to anything classic is automatically a little funny and entertaining to me. But secondly, and more importantly for PPZ, I'm an English major who - even as a guy - really enjoyed Pride and Prejudice. And for all of PPZ's boasting about how they've turned Austen into "something you'd actually want to read," there's absolutely no doubt as I read this that it was done with a lot of love and appreciation for Austen's work. For one thing, a fairly high percentage of the book is Austen's original writing (albeit slightly stripped down); for another, the plot remains essentially the same...although with added zombie battles, ninja bodyguards, and scenes where Elizabeth rips a man's heart out of his chest and eats it in front of him. Here's the thing: while the concept is itself really funny, I don't know if you'll love this the way I did unless you like both parts of the equation, because this is a lot of Austen with a lot of zombies. Me? I had a blast reading this. I loved remembering my first time through the book, and I loved Grahame-Smith's additions, both for their absurdity and for how much they actually reinforced the themes and ideas of the book. Look, here's the deal: If you're too much of a purist, you'll find it absurd and offensive; if you're just a zombie fan, you'll be tired of the relationships and the drama. But for those of us in the right demographic, this is an absolutely hilarious read, one that not only entertains, but ironically reinforces how good Austen's work really is. |
| 8-9 | The
Scarecrow, by Michael Connelly |
I discovered after finishing this that Connelly was partially inspired to return to the Jack McEvoy character (from The Poet) after watching season five of The Wire; its scathing portrait of the newspaper business and its current status made Connelly interested in visiting some of the same territory. I've long argued that Connelly isn't the greatest writer in the world, but his sense of time and place - whether the post-Rodney King LA of the Bosch novels or the increasingly downsized Los Angeles Times of this one - and his strong sense of verisimilitude more than make up for his pedestrian style. The Scarecrow is no exception, and in some ways, it may be one of his best books in a long time. The main story - about McEvoy being given his two-weeks notice, his desire to go out with a bang, and the way that leads him into the sights of a long working but unknown serial killer - is a great one, and Connelly milks the suspense for everything its worth. (His use of alternating sections between McEvoy and the killer is intriguing; not only does it allow him to add to the suspense, it adds more depth to the villain than we could otherwise get.) But the book is just as worthy for its subtext about the declining state of newspapers; while McEvoy isn't as complex or rewarding a character as Bosch, his strong commitment to journalism makes him a great character for Connelly (himself a crime reporter for many years) to write about. A great serial killer tale, a nice exploration of the media, and more, The Scarecrow is a must for any Connelly fan. |
| 8-8 | Solaris,
by Stanislaw Lem |
Having seen both versions of the film, I felt like I was long overdue to read the book, which (fascinatingly) doesn't really play out like either of the two. In Lem's hands, the tale - which concerns mysterious happenings on a science station on a ocean-covered planet named Solaris - is less about any sort of story and more about mankind's desire to imprint some sort of meaning or pattern onto the universe. There's no doubt that Lem creates a fascinating world, and that many of his discussions are profound, thoughtful, and intriguing. And yet, if I have a gripe about the book, it's the fact that Lem doesn't interweave story and philosophy as well as other sci-fi writers do - say, Philip K. Dick. I've read that there are some serious problems with this translation (the fact that it's translated from the French, which was itself translated from the original Polish, doesn't bode well), so some of my grumbles might end up there. As a thoughtful exploration of the way we interact and impose ourselves on the world, Solaris is a fascinating read; as a science fiction work, it's all about the ideas and less about the story. When the ideas are that good, I can't complain too much, but I would have loved to have seen the story run with to a greater degree (something I think Soderbergh brought to the table in his version). |
| 8-3 | The
Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson |
I'm not quite sold on Dragon as the groundbreaking work it seems to be sold as, but there's no denying that it's a pretty great little thriller with as much interest in interesting characters as a complex story. Essentially tying three stories together - a reporter with a vendetta against a major corporation, a girl who disappeared 30 years ago in a locked-room situation writ large, and a third, more sinister plot thread that develops as the book proceeds - Larsson eschews a lot of the thriller standards, writing as much about Swedish finance and politics and the way they shaped their characters. For some, I suppose the result could be boring, but I found the view into a foreign culture fascinating. Of course, none of that would matter if the plot weren't so engaging, but Larsson keeps the twists and swerves coming in some really great ways, keeping me reading far beyond the time when I needed to stop. And running through it all are his deeply flawed protagonists, the idealistic Blomkvist and the rebellious and far more cynical Salander, both of whom really engaged me and kept me fascinated. A little slower and more gradually paced than your typical thriller, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo more than makes up for the wait with some absolutely knockout scenes as the book builds towards its climax...well, and then keeps going, for what has to be admitted to be a little too long. Still, it's a great little mystery thriller, and it's left me quite interested in the sequel, which is supposed to be even better. |
| 7-26 | The
Big Rewind, by Nathan Rabin |
I've enjoyed Rabin's work for the A.V. Club for some time, but I don't know that I was really prepared for how talented of a writer he really is. There's no doubt that The Big Rewind features the brilliantly funny turns of phrase for which Rabin is so well known - for a taste, I highly recommend this excerpt, whose selection about "El Pollo Loco" has me cry with laughter every time I think about it. Rabin tells his life's story - a life which involves an absent mother, an involuntary commitment, a stay in group homes, among other events - with a candid and open sense of humor, not only about the circumstances, but about himself. But what really shocked me about The Big Rewind was how brutally honest and oddly moving it was. Whether discussing the suicide of Kurt Cobain, the draining effect of meeting his mother, or chance encounters with friends years later, watching Rabin's sarcasm and cynicism morph into true insight and painful honesty is deeply affecting, and there's no way to walk away from the book without feeling some of his pain. To be fair, I'm probably the perfect audience for the book; Rabin views the world through the prism of pop culture, from The Simpsons to Freaks, and it's a worldview I know all too well. But even if you don't, it's a fascinating, funny, wonderfully honest memoir, and the writing on display is an absolute joy. Here's hoping that this is just the start of Rabin's book-writing career; with his talent, intelligence, and wit, I hope he's not going anywhere for a long, long time. |
| 7-22 | The
Light Fantastic, by Terry Pratchett |
In this, the second Discworld book, it's obvious that Pratchett was still defining his universe and its population. The result still displays all of Pratchett's apparently boundless imagination, but isn't quite as fun or nuanced as his later works. The jokes are a little more obvious, the supporting cast not as rich...and yet, there's still a wonder and magic to even the weakest Pratchett works that kept this one moving right along. Beyond the story (a direct continuation of the events of The Color of Magic), it's neat to see Pratchett laying the foundation for so many works to come, with the apparent creation of the Librarian, the first reference to Mort, and so forth. Even characters like the Luggage presage Pratchett's penchant for unlikely but loyal heroes lacking communication, but still oddly deep (again, like the Librarian). Look: it's not in the upper tier of Discworld books, but even lesser Discworld is full of imagination, clever writing, and complex, rewarding plots, and The Light Fantastic is no exception. I wouldn't recommend it to someone trying to get into the set, but as a longtime fan, I found it fascinating not only on its own terms, but as an early brick in the building of Discworld. |
| 7-17 | Lush
Life, by Richard Price |
One of the joys of reading Richard Price is his strong grip on characters and their world. Never the most interested in plots, Price instead uses crime and violence as a starting point, watching how his characters react and deal with their actions and the crimes of others. Lush Life, his latest, is no different, but in some ways, it's the best of the worlds he's created, if only because of how open he is with the reader. The "who" of the central crime isn't a mystery for very long; instead, Price lays all of his cards on the table, allowing readers to progress through the book as a drama. The result isn't for all tastes; I've read countless reviews on Amazon about how dull the book is. But from page one, I was gripped. No one writes dialogue and speech like Price, whose conversations would work just as well as radio drama as in a book. From the myriad traffic stops of the Quality of Life squad to the grueling interrogation scenes, from the confrontation between two friends whose relationship is changed over a gunfight to a self-serving memorial service, Price creates his world through observation and listening. As with Pelecanos, it's no wonder he ended up working on The Wire - his intelligence and willingness not to insult the reader fits that show perfectly, and the way that his characters are filled with shades of gray is fascinating. From the conflicted, self-loathing Eric Cash to the devastated father of a victim, Price creates a world so real that I hated for it to come to an end, a rare feeling that I get anymore from books. No, it may not be the thriller to end all thrillers, but as a incisive, smart piece of drama as much about our times as of them, Lush Life is a masterpiece with so much quiet power you may not even realize it until you sit back and take it all in. |
| 7-6 | Out,
by Natsuo Kirino  |
I feel a little bad about my dislike for Out, since a lot of my complaint is how its written, and I have no way of knowing how much of that is thanks to Kirino herself, and how much is due to the translation. Either way, the prose here works hard to take an interesting tale and render it dull and lifeless. Unable to let foreshadowing pass without making sure the reader notices it, explaining to a pedantic degree motivations and feelings, Out so frequently breaks the "show, don't tell" rule of writing that I felt like I was reading notes for the actors of the eventual movie version, not a novel. It's a shame, too, because the core tale - about a woman who strangles her husband, some friends that help her, and the ensuing chaos - is pretty neat, even if it's occasionally too neat and tidy. Even that doesn't entirely carry the book, though, as Kirino's characters too often come across as horrible people. There's a difference between something like A Simple Plan that makes us understand the characters, even as they make horrific choices, and Out, which just makes us hate them. Kirino's unlikable characters reach their nadir in the climax, in which one character acts in a way that seems unlikely, unreasonable, and frankly unbelievable. (Speaking of the climax, why in the world tell the event twice, all the way through, from two different perspectives, if the two tellings add nothing to each other?) In the end, Out takes a neat premise and tale and beats it into the ground with thudding prose, unsympathetic characters, and an ending that leaves a sour taste in your mouth. |
| 7-1 | The
Last Continent, by Terry Pratchett |
The most plot-driven of the Rincewind novels that I've read so far, The Last Continent finds our hapless hero stuck in XXXX, the unnamed and final continent on the DIscworld. And yet, he's needed for reasons too complicated to get into (suffice to say, the Librarian keeps turning into furniture), so the staff of Unseen University goes to get him. What follows defies description; suffice to say, Pratchett brings in every pop culture Australian reference there is, and tops it with hilarious tangents on time travel and the wisdom of not killing your grandfather, the appeal of women, a god with no comprehension of sex, some very heavy beer, and one very strange kangaroo. Does it all make sense? Somehow, yes, although I admit that some aspects of the finale shot right over my head...but that doesn't really matter. With Pratchett, it's all about the journey, and The Last Continent frequently had me laughing out loud, getting strange looks. (The long section in which the UU staff debates time travel morality may be one of the funniest things Pratchett's ever written.) I can't say enough good things about Pratchett's Discworld books, if you can't tell by now. Funny, affectionate, richly drawn, wonderfully populated, they create a world unlike anything else out there, and one so rich and vibrant that picking up each new book is like reconnecting with friends. An absolute joy; even if you've never read any, this is a perfect one to get started with. So what are you waiting for? |
| 6-27 | The
Tery, by F. Paul Wilson |
In which the estimable Dr. Wilson takes on fantasy with less than stellar results. I like Wilson a lot, but while he can create some great plots and interesting characters, he tends to work best in slightly more grounded worlds. It's clear from work like Sims that Wilson likes his fantasy/sci-fi driven by moral quandaries more than imaginative worlds. Hey, there's nothing wrong with that, but it definitely keeps The Tery from succeeding, as Wilson creates a world that doesn't feel natural so much as constructed for plot's sake. The politics and power dynamics of the world feel forced into making the point, and the species - particularly the titular Teries - feel like plot contrivances. The plot is missing Wilson's usual tightness, bouncing everywhere randomly until coming to a ridiculously forced climax. And none of this mentions the cringe-inducing romantic tension between a woman and her "pet," culminating in a scene where the pet mutant bear masturbates happily over its owner. Look, I like Wilson a lot, and I even like the ideas he's attempting to play with here, even if he's done them better elsewhere (Sims). And, sure, there is a really neat twist about 3/4 of the way through the book; even though it's doesn't really change things, it's a great reveal. It's just that Wilson works better grounded in something closer to reality; his characters and situations deserve better than his ability (or lack thereof) to construct a plausible and believable fantasy world. |
| 6-27 | Gone
Tomorrow, by Lee Child |
I enjoyed Nothing to Lose, Child's previous Reacher book, well enough, even though I had some minor gripes with it, but Gone Tomorrow is a superior piece of work that pretty much gets everything right. I wasn't sure if I wanted to read another Reacher tale so soon after the last, but a quick perusal of the opening chapter - in which Reacher, riding a New York subway car, runs through a checklist for picking out suicide bombers and finds one lone woman setting off every flag - got me hooked, and I never looked back. The books takes off flying from there, with the plot taking in a senator with a military past, an old Ukrainian woman and her daughter, and a MacGuffin that drives it all (although the actual reveal of the MacGuffin is pretty satisfying and intriguing). This is one of Reacher's less action-driven books; though there are fights to be had, especially in the great climax, this one's more about reasoning out some threads and pulling at what doesn't fit. It's a lot of fun, and a nice rebound from some of the weaknesses of Nothing to Lose. |
| 6-26 | Offspring,
by Jack Ketchum  |
I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, ultimately, with Offspring. It's not just that the plot is a rehash of the original Off Season; it is, but there's some interesting variations at first that add some complexities and promises of new directions, and while they aren't taken, they still add some intrigue. But the biggest disappointment is how comparatively "safe" the book feels. The original reminded me of the original Night of the Living Dead, where you realized that the standard rules didn't apply; heroes could die in a heartbeat, and the good guys weren't guaranteed to win. By contrast, Offspring feels softer and more relatively upbeat. Are the villains of the piece still horrific and monstrous? Definitely, and their actions remain gruesome. And yet, you can't help but feel that Ketchum is pulling some punches here, especially with what first seems like a sudden, unexpected death being saved via an unlikely deus ex machina. Offspring still has Ketchum's great writing and his knack for intense experiences, but especially as a follow-up to the no holds barred horror of Off Season, Offspring falls sadly short. |
| 6-25 | Gentlemen
of the Road, by Michael Chabon |
I enjoyed Chabon's early work; pieces like Wonder Boys are wonderful pieces of drama that really show off his talent for establishing characters and their psychologies. However, this second wave of work, filled with more experimentation and playfulness - from the neo-noir stylings of Yiddish Policemen's Union to the Holmes homage The Final Solution - maintains all of Chabon's literary talent while giving the work a higher level of simple, pure enjoyment. The fact that he creates such wonderful worlds while smuggling in literature? Even better. Gentlemen (I prefer Chabon's admitted original title, Jews with Swords) is a quick read, but its short length is packed with adventures, wonderful environments, surprising twists, and characters who come to live perfectly. A classic adventure novel in the tradition of everyone from Dumas to Errol Flynn, Gentlemen plunges the reader into a 10th century struggle in the desert and creates a tale that's pure fun. I can't say enough how enjoyable it is, and how much I recommend it. What it lacks in the ambition of something like Union, it more than makes up for in joy and adventure. |
| 6-25 | The
Truth, by Terry Pratchett |
A rare stand-alone piece from Pratchett (albeit one with a fairly large supporting cast of regulars) taking on the press and the human obsession with news. As always, Pratchett's satirical points are dead-on, thoughtful, insightful, and genuinely funny, ranging from "light" news to the dangers of offering a reward for missing objects. But, as usual, it's the rich and wonderful characters that Pratchett creates that make the book such a wondrous joy, and the fact that both Vimes and Vetinari play such major roles is just icing on the cake. If there's a weak point, it's the recurring Pulp Fiction parody; sure, it's funny, but it seems to add little to the book, and ultimately feels a little distracting, especially as those two characters come towards their bizarre fates. Regardless, they're enjoyable characters, and fit nicely into Pratchett's wondrous, magical, hilarious world, and watching him control his marvelous plots so nicely is a joy, as always. |
| 6-23 | The
Lovers, by John Connolly |
A stunning piece of work from Connolly, whose Charlie Parker series continues to grip, horrify, thrill, and move in ways that almost no other series has accomplished in some times. As usual, Connolly toys with the boundary between the real and the unreal, but it's more and more obvious that there's something less than normal in Parker's world, and that there are darker and more nightmarish horrors out there than we ever imagined. The Lovers delves, for the first time, more into the life of Parker himself, stripping away most of the background characters and zooming in to the increasingly murky background of Parker, focusing on the events surrounding his father's suicide and the murders that immediately preceded it. Fusing his fascinating and complex characters with his beautiful, poetic writing that soars above almost anyone else writing thrillers these days, Connolly continues to push his Parker series into new and fascinating territory, creating a complex cosmology tied to a thriller series that excites and moves. With each new book, Connolly gets better and better; given how good he's been, that's a hell of an accomplishment. My only complaint is that work as good as Connolly's takes time, because I'm already ready for his next work now. |
| 6-21 | The
Salmon of Doubt, by Douglas Adams |
A collection of essays, interviews, and other assorted ephemera (including several chapters of a new novel) pulled from Adams's hard drive after his death, A Salmon of Doubt is nowhere near as morbid and depressing a project as it sounds. Instead, for the first time, we get a window into the man behind Hitchhiker's Guide and Dirk Gently. Writing on topics ranging from atheism to personal computing, from sand to schoolboy shorts, Adams comes across as intelligent, funny, and thoughtful, none of which are surprising to anyone who's read his work. But for those of us who have, the chance to delve into the man himself is a can't miss opportunity. And if that's not enough for you, there's the assorted fiction pieces, from a strange look at Genghis Khan to an early episode from the life of Zaphod, all the way up to a frustratingly unfinished but enjoyably surreal unfinished novel which started as a Dirk Gently tale but may have ended as a Hitchhiker's work. If you're not already an Adams fan, this may not be for you, but for the legions of people who find his work so funny and joyous, this is a wonderful parting gift and an excellent remembrance of such a unique man. |
| 6-20 | Black
Seas of Infinity: The Best of H.P. Lovecraft, by H.P. Lovecraft |
First, a handy note: if you find this collection, and you're thinking of buying it (a decision I thoroughly endorse), do yourself a favor and check to make sure that you're not missing, say, page 490-508. Because I can tell you, from experience, that getting 80 pages into "At the Mountains of Madness" and suddenly realizing you're missing 18 pages of the story? Not a fun time. It's the only sour note I can say that I have about this book, though, which is easily the single best anthology of Lovecraft's work I've found to date. Containing a wide range of the master's work, from "The Call of Cthulhu" and most of the major Mythos stories to standalone works like personal favorite "In the Walls of Eryx," editor Andrew Wheeler clearly picks from a fan's perspective, but his order (grouping stories that echo each other, setting short stories between longer ones) is great, and his choices superb. As he says in the introduction, not all of the best stories are here, but there's not a bad one in the batch. A great introduction for anyone just coming into Lovecraft's work, and a solid, spectacular collection for any diehard fans. No one unsettles and horrifies like Lovecraft, and if you've never read his surreal, nightmarish visions, you're in for a massive treat, and some of the most horrifying tales of all time. Any serious horror fan owes it to themselves to find this volume - provided, of course, it has all of its pages. |
| 6-18 | The
Codex, by Douglas Preston |
A really fun adventure read that nonetheless confirms that Preston and Child write better fiction together than apart. Much like Child's Deep Storm, The Codex has a great premise and moves like a rocket; after all, there's something intrinsically fun about watching three brothers racing each other to their father's hidden tomb, filled with his valuables. Add to that all the fun side elements, from a sleazy PI to a very concerned Wall Street tycoon, and you have a really fun adventure story, filled with great action scenes and exotic locales. But, also like Deep Storm, the characters aren't quite as rich or interesting, particularly the lead female, who comes across as harping and one-note for far too long. Still, the book's a lot of fun, and I certainly enjoyed it; it just doesn't compare to the works that Child and Preston put out together. |
| 6-16 | Terry Pratchett |
Another Discworld novel, this one a takeoff of (what else?) Faust, here depicted as a teenaged demon summoner who summons none other than Rincewind, the magician. As with The Colour of Magic, the Rincewind set is largely an excuse to jump to new and different places in Discworld; the explorations here are loosely tied to the three wishes made by Eric, but only tightly enough to allow Pratchett's usual gleeful anarchy and fun. The weakness of the Rincewind books (at least, the two I've read) is that they're missing the intricate plotting of Pratchett's best work, but while that makes them lesser achievements, I found it no less funny and entertaining than any of his work. Even if I didn't like anything else, the modern version of Hell was absolute hilarity to me. In other words: even lesser Discworld is still really fun stuff. |
| 6-14 | The
Sweet Forever, by George P. Pelecanos |
Now this is more like it. I liked, but didn't love, The Night Gardener, but if The Sweet Forever is any indication, I'm on board with George Pelecanos for a long time. There's no escaping the fact that Pelecanos's work feels like it was made to be on The Wire; after all, that's where I first learned of the man, and why I tried his work. But saying that The Sweet Forever reminds me of The Wire - well, that's high praise indeed. Set in DC during the late 80s, Pelecanos captures perfectly his setting, from the cocaine parties to the approach of crack, and makes his tale - a complicated affair involving a dead drug dealer and some missing money - as much about its time and place as its plot. But more than its setting, Pelecanos creates rich, complex characters who come to life in a way that few authors manage. Flawed, real human beings populate Pelecanos's world, and their passions and foibles are what propel things along. Few books have created a world as vibrant and real as this one, and few have packed as much emotional impact as a result. I can't recommend this book enough to anyone, period, but if you loved The Wire, you owe it to yourself to start reading this book as soon as you can get a copy. |
| 6-4 | Pygmy,
by Chuck Palahniuk |
Coming off of the disappointment of Snuff, I couldn't help but be wary of Pygmy (an irony, given that Snuff itself came off of Rant, one of Palahniuk's best works). Would it be another letdown like so much of Palahniuk's later works? I needn't have worried. Pygmy may not be the accomplishment Rant was, but it more than makes up for its lack of ambition by being Palahniuk's funniest novel in a long time. Trading in the massive scope of Rant, Palahniuk spins a relatively simple story about a foreign operative masquerading as an exchange student so he can commit some nameless act of terror. In his bizarre, broken English, Pygmy (as he's called) attempts to describe our country, revealing equal parts horror, disgust, amusement, and maybe even affection. The end result is a hilarious - albeit in a dark, dark sense of the world - and vicious satire of America, but one done with a bemused love for the country. Moreover, Palahniuk finds a new use for his narrative tics here, spinning his mantras and rhythms into Pygmy's fractured, bizarre language. There's no doubt that the resulting read is a little tough to parse at times, but it's more than made up for by the brilliant turns of phrase that pepper the book. In the end, I found myself remembering why I got into Palahniuk in the first place, and laughing with every bizarre and demented new development. |
| 6-2 | The
37th Mandala, by Marc Laidlaw |
Ambitious but ultimately unfulfilling horror novel that attempts to capture Lovecraft's grasp of the horror of the beyond. Laidlaw starts with a good premise - a new-age writer who's really a con artist finds himself toying with something he doesn't understand - and adds some nice plot on top of it, but the book never really coalesces into anything all that satisfying. The three main characters all feel a little flat, and the "action" is too far-paced to keep things moving all the time, and just bunched enough to create a strange pace. What's more, it's pretty tough to describe the indescribable, and Laidlaw tries, but never really creates the atmosphere and dread and horror that someone like Lovecraft was so good at. It's not really that Mandala is a bad book, but it's ultimately disappointing, especially given all the hype it received; there's no doubt it's ambitious, but it falls pretty short of achieving the goals it sets for itself. |
| 5-25 | Hogfather,
by Terry Pratchett |
At this point, I think I've read about two-thirds of the Discworld books, so take that into account when I make this next statement: Hogfather is probably the funniest of any of the Discworld books I've read. The disappearance of Discworld's version of Santa Claus leads Death to take over the reins, and the resulting madness is hilarious, horrifying, and absolutely brilliant. (A long sequence involving the replacement of a mall Hogfather had me laughing uncontrollably.) But as usual, what really makes Pratchett's work so magical is not just the way he exerts a masterful control over his plot - really, any other author would lose control of all this madness, but Pratchett juggles it all perfectly - but the way that he spins it into something more profound and meaningful. Only in Discworld could a story about retiring Tooth Fairies, a profoundly disturbed Assassin, a Death with a fake beard and belly, and a Hangover God turn into a complex and thoughtful meditation on the nature of humanity and the importance of our dreams and fantasies. Hogfather is in the upper-tier of Discworld books, and given the high quality of the rest of the series, that's high praise indeed. A thoughtful, hilarious, moving, unsettling joy to read. |
| 5-19 | Nothing
to Lose, by Lee Child |
Typically entertaining escapist fare from Child's Reacher series, which has become my written equivalent of the Man with No Name series. As usual, Child has a knack for creating interesting scenarios that intrigue the reader enough to let him slowly weave his plot around you. Nothing to Lose isn't Child's best work - not by a long shot - but it's still a lot of fun, and it all builds to a pretty fantastic finale. The plot's not as solid as his best work (for my money, Persuader would probably be the one to go for, if I remember correctly), and the main villain never feels as compelling as you'd like him to be, but Child's solid writing and the fascinating Reacher more than keep things moving along nicely. Praising it for being a great thriller seems to undersell it; it may not change your life, but Child knows his craft, and few writers do it as well as he does. |
| 5-16 |
Making
Money, |
Ah, Discworld - how I missed you guys. The follow-up to Going Postal finds our shady hero, Moist van Lipwig, getting a little bored in his duties as Post Office head and looking for some new thrills. Finding himself appointed to lead the national banks, Moist finds himself involved with a canine chairman, a series of tubes that do more than reflect the market, an increasingly delusional foe, a golem straight out of Fatal Attraction, and more of Pratchett's usual insanity. It's a testament to the man's skill that, as usual, all of this somehow manages to work out and come together, and the book never feels as though it's out of control. Full of Pratchett's usual great humor, clever plotting, keen social satire, and great character work, it reminded me of why I loved these books so much in the first place, and how eager I am to pick up more of them. It may not be up with his absolute best, but it's high up there, and a complete treat of a read. |
| 5-6 | Aftershock
and Others: 19 Oddities, by F. Paul Wilson |
Wilson's third - and reportedly, last - collection of short fiction shows off both his talents and his weaknesses, but still makes for a great read. Wilson's talent isn't so much in his prose - it's serviceable, but nothing extraordinary - but in his characters and his plotting, and both are in great evidence here. From the title tale, which spins a ghost story of sorts into a haunting portrait of loss, to "Sex Slaves of the Dragon Tong," a Yellow Peril homage, it's clear that Wilson writes for the love of his tales, and it's hard not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. At worst, he still spins a fun tale; at his best, as in "Aryans and Absinthe," he evokes the mood and atmosphere of a time tastefully but horrifically. And when everything is firing - for instance, in a tale about a magical word (whose title is designed to be impossible to type) - you're in for a hell of a ride. And if that doesn't sell you, what about one of the best short Repairman Jack stories you'll ever get a chance to read? Definitely a must for fans, but a great place to start, too. |
| 5-2 | The
Terror, by Dan Simmons |
I have a very strange relationship with Dan Simmons. When he's firing on all cylinders - say, Summer of Night or A Winter Haunting - he's one of the best in his field. His writing can be beautiful and haunting, and his knack for plotting is great. But when he's off - Carrion Comfort is the one I always think of here - he can be a chore, and given his propensity for lengthy novels, that can be a problem. The Terror is a mammoth read, and it's one that definitely feels too long; while there's really no incidents or major scenes I'd cut, I feel like you could do some minor pruning to the entire book and really help it along. But oddly, while the tinges of bloat keep The Terror from becoming truly great, it doesn't diminish how damned good the book as a whole is. A fictional account of the last years of an actual lost Arctic expedition, The Terror recounts the fate of the British sailors as they cope with freezing temperatures, treachery on their own boats, incompetence, naivety - and if that wasn't enough, there's a thing on the ice out there... The book itself is a masterpiece of mood, and it's filled with scenes both unsettling (my favorite is a long Poe-inspired setpiece, but a chapter near the end of the book from the point of view of a deranged crew member blew me away) and beautiful (the final chapter of the book is a stunning conclusion). If you can survive the stretches here and there of excessive verbiage, The Terror creates a mood and atmosphere that will definitely get to you, and its unique mix of historical novel, horror novel, and survival tale makes for a book unlike much else that I've read. I can't wholeheartedly endorse it, but for those able to push through, it's a remarkable achievement filled with some uncommonly powerful scenes. |
| 4-12 | The
Discrete Charm of Charlie Monk, by David Ambrose |
Several years back, I stumbled across a obscure little gem of a book called Control by William Goldman, which that began quite normally and eventually morphed into something surreal and mind-bending, a shift all the more effective for the way the book's cover gave nothing away at all. I bring that up because it's the only thing I can think to compare to Charlie Monk. When I began the book, I was disappointed that I felt the book jacket gave too much away; while I still think that (and urge you not to read it), it soon became apparent that while the book jacket tips the book's hand a little, it in no way really prepares you for the strange and clever zigs and zags the plot takes. It's hard to explain the charms of the book without spoiling it, but I can say that it's the tale of a secret agent whose questions about his past find some very unexpected answers; the nature of those answers, and how they tie into the work of a memory specialist and her son - well, that's half the fun. It's a gripping, exciting read, and each new twist just hooked me more. It's hard to find, but if you see it, I'd definitely recommend checking it out. |
| 4-11 | Off
Season, by Jack Ketchum |
Years back, I picked up University, by Bentley Little, based off of the cover blurb by Stephen King, who said that it was like nothing in contemporary horror. He was right. For years, University has been one of the most extreme horror novels I've ever read, one that pushed beyond the normal boundaries of what is and isn't done in the genre. I never thought it would be topped, but that was before Off Season. Ketchum's first novel has a notorious past that he explains ably in the afterword here, but that's not important. What is important is that this is not a book for the faint of heart. Like Little, Ketchum enjoys pushing beyond the boundaries of what's acceptable, of what's forbidden; what sets Ketchum apart, though, is the fact that most of his horror remains grounded in reality. There is nothing supernatural here, only human, and that gives the book a cold horror that's unlike much else I've read. It's an intense, disturbing, horrifying experience, and it's definitely an uncompromising vision. But its solid craft, strong writing, and ability to ramp up the tension really makes it an essential read for any horror fan who can handle it. You won't easily forget it, much as you try, but there's no denying that it's a success on its own merits. As a horror novel, it succeeds in every way imaginable. |
| 4-7 | The
Grave Tattoo, by Val McDermid |
A disappointing outing for McDermid; despite all the praise heaped on this, it's definitely among her weakest efforts that I've read. It seems as though McDermid made an effort to hit the Da Vinci Code market, but her work is typically too interesting and intelligent for that crowd. Sadly, here it feels as though she's put away a lot of her considerable talents in order to make something pedestrian and forgettable. The book takes forever to get going, with close to 200 pages gone by before any sort of genuine tension begins to build. The characters are never interesting enough, the story not gripping enough, and the reveal of the killer is so arbitrary that it's almost laughable. And all that says nothing of the very end, which is so abrupt that I thought I was missing another page or two. No, what I got from this is the last thing I expected from McDermid: a dull read. Admittedly, McDermid is still a strong writer, and the way she entwines plot threads is strong, but it can't save Tattoo from being a bit of a chore. |
| 3-31 | The
Monster of Florence, by Douglas Preston with Mario Spezi |
A fascinating true-crime tale that becomes something far stranger and more complex. Beginning in 1968, a series of couples were found murdered by someone who soon became known as the Monster of Florence (a killer who inspired Thomas Harris to create Dr. Hannibal Lecter), and the first half of the book documents the killings and the bizarre investigation into them - an investigation which soon came to involve Mafia men, conspiracy nuts, a Satanic cult, and one outlandish theory stacked on the other, all while promising leads and legitimate suspects are ignored or exonerated. While that's fascinating stuff and a great read, the book's second half - in which the authors find themselves drawn into the case and even suspects in the killings - becomes, as Spezi says, "like some sort of Martin/Lewis version of The Trial". The book would be hilarious if it wasn't so horrific and infuriating, but it's a gripping read through and through, even though I wish Preston's prose were less prosaic. Still, it's more than up to the job, and this story absolutely must be read to be believed. Is the Monster revealed? No, but nonetheless, as a look into a staggeringly incompetent investigation, a scathing report on a failing judicial system, and a disturbing portrait of evil, the book's a rousing success. |
| 3-22 | Deep
Storm, by Lincoln Child |
My first time reading a solo effort from the formidable Lincoln/Child duo, and I'm not disappointed. Deep Storm is a classic B-movie-style adventure novel, one driven nicely by a mystery that's far more complex than it first seems. The book feels a lot like something the duo would write together - in fact, it reminds me a lot of The Ice Limit, with a bit of Riptide tossed in for good measure in parts. But I don't mind that at all. The story here keeps going in unexpected and interesting directions, and Child demonstrates a knack for mixing the supernatural with science - unsurprising, given the duo's propensity for this in their own work. In general, it really feels like it would go fine with anything Preston/Child knocked out together; it's a little slighter, especially as it comes to characters, but the story is as strong, the mysteries interesting, the action solid, and the epilogue packs a bit of an unexpected wallop with one line. All in all, solid stuff, and a good read. |
| 3-18 | Peaceable
Kingdom, by Jack Ketchum |
One of the things I've noticed about Ketchum as I've started to read his work is how diverse it is - or, as Ketchum puts it in the introduction to Kingdom, "inconsistent." Although he tends to be brutal, and favor human horror over supernatural, apart from that, his tones, themes, and subject matters tend to vary wildly, and Peaceable Kingdom, which is a collection of 30+ short stories, illustrates that fact quite well. What it also shows, though, is just how effective Ketchum can be, even in just a few short pages. As with any short story collection, there are hits and misses, but some of the pieces here are absolute knockouts. "The Visitor," for example, is one of the more moving zombie horror stories I've ever read, while "Firedance" becomes something wholly unexpected for Ketchum, and provides a thoughtful ending for the collection. Meanwhile, pieces like "To Suit the Crime" are as cold and chilling as anything he's ever written, and "The Great San Diego Sleazy Bimbo Massacre" shows that the man has a knack for comedy, black though it might be. Like I said, there are some misses here - "Among the Walking Wounded" starts great but never coalesces, "If Memory Serves" builds to a non-sequitur ending that tanks the story before it, "Closing Time" needs focus - but it's a nice sample of Ketchum's stuff, and the best work here is intense, horrifying stuff. It's not Red (still my favorite work of his I've read), but it's definitely a cut above a lot of current horror writers. |
| 3-14 | Axis,
by Robert Charles Wilson |
Wilson's follow-up to the superb Spin is good, but suffers both from an inability to compare to the scope and success of its predecessor as well as the standard difficulties of middle books in trilogies. Spin had an epic story to tell, one that affected literally galaxies; by contrast, Axis is - for the most part - a far more small-scale story until a final set of revelations that admittedly add some interesting dimensions, but whose importance is a little unclear. All of this sounds like I didn't like the book, which isn't true at all - the story is a gripping one, the characters well-drawn, and the concepts still heady and thoughtful. But, in the end, it's not the book that Spin is - whether that's due to not having that shock of the new, losing the first-person narration, or just from doing a lot of setup for the third book, I can't say. It's still quite good, and I'm eager both to read more Wilson and to read Vortex whenever it comes out. Just don't expect it to live up to Spin. |
| 3-9 | Spin,
by Robert Charles Wilson |
A reminder of why I really love good sci-fi, Spin is everything the genre should be. Rather than filling itself to the brim with sci-fi jargon and concepts, Spin starts with an irresistible hook - one night, the moon and all the stars disappear - and takes that concept to new and ever more fascinating levels, all while fully exploring and contemplating the philosophical, cultural, and social changes that the events depicted might cause. In the midst of all this, Wilson manages as well to tell a gripping story of three friends and the way their relationship shifts and changes as this world develops.The result is a richly satisfying blend of drama, sci-fi, apocalyptic tale, and more - but they're all done well. Spin accomplishes the rare feat of being satisfying not just on an emotional level or an intellectual level, but on both, all while crafting an engaging and involving story that continues to surprise. I've never heard of Wilson before, but based on this, I plan on finding more, starting with the sequel to this. Here's hoping this isn't a fluke, but even if it is, it's a fantastic book that absolutely blew me away. |
| 3-6 | The
Kid: What Happened After My Boyfriend and I Decided to Go Get Pregnant, by Dan Savage |
I ended up reading Savage's books in reverse order (I'm sure Savage would complain that to me, marriage should always come before a child), but it really doesn't matter. Savage's account of the adoption of his son is never a question of whether or not it will succeed; it's about the journal, about Savage's acerbic and insightful wit, and about the challenges and fears that come along with the process. Savage's writing is a joy to read; he's funny, smart, and self-deprecating enough to see through his grandiose front. But it's the emotion underneath, be it fear, anxiety, humor, or love, that makes the book so endearing and so memorable; the last page, as much as Dan would hate to hear me say it, is beautiful writing that brought a tear, quite literally, to my eye. It's a shame that the people who most need to read this book, and most need to understand why gay adoption is not only not a bad thing, but even a wonderful thing, will probably never pick this up. |
| 3-3 | Sweetheart,
by Chelsea Cain |
Cain's follow-up to Heartsick picks up almost exactly where its predecessor left off; unfortunately, Cain's talent hasn't progressed much either. Once again, Lowell and Archie's relationship is by far the most interesting aspect of the book, so why waste so much time with a secondary story that never grips and never becomes interesting? What's more, Lowell becomes more generically "serial-killer omnipotent" here. I liked the way Cain toyed with that in the first book by showing us some of her tricks, but here she's a little more brilliant and omniscient, and it's far less interesting. I still think there's a lot of promise in the series, but Cain needs to pare down the side stories and focus on Archie and Gretchen, and figure out what she wants to do. I still enjoyed this well enough, but it's pretty forgettable, and if I hadn't read Heartsick, I certainly wouldn't care too much. |
| 3-1 | Heartsick,
by Chelsea Cain |
So, a traumatized cop comes back to hunt a new serial killer, but finds himself drawn to the imprisoned killer who did the damage in the first place. Sound familiar? There's no way to read Heartsick without being acutely aware of the influence that Thomas Harris had on it (whether Cain thinks it was conscious or not), but in the end, that's okay. Why? Because Heartsick ends up working solidly on its own merits. Admittedly, the main hunt of the book is a little average, but the consequences are high enough and the clues interesting enough to keep the reader involved. But, much like Harris's work, the heart of the book lies in the twisted relationship between Archie (the lead detective) and Gretchen, the serial killer he put away...sort of. Their bizarre, unsettling relationship and the depths of Archie's damaged psyche give the book a unique feeling that sets it apart, one that infuses the rest of the book nicely. It's not flawless - like I said, the main killer storyline is good but nothing special, and there's no really memorable twists. But the writing is solid, the violence brutal and unflinching, and the characters complex and intriguing. It's definitely got me to go pick up the next book, and that's something. |
| 3-1 | The
Given Day, by Dennis Lehane |
Lehane's latest (and largest) work may not be my favorite of his (that honor would probably go to Gone, Baby, Gone or Darkness, Take My Hand), but it's probably his most well-crafted and best-written book to date. Although I was slightly wary of the fact that Lehane departed the modern setting he's so good at, I shouldn't have been; even in stepping back to the early 20th century, his feel for establishing the details and minutiae of his setting never fails him, and he maintains that strong mix of plot, character, and social analysis that makes his work so engaging. Apart from depicting a fascinating and horrifying historical event (one that, admittedly, I knew little about), Lehane's love for Boston always shows, and the way he spans characters and times here is masterful stuff. Even at 700 pages, it never lags, never feels slow, and the characters are as rich and complex as any Lehane's created to date. Avoiding simple morality, plunging into history, and raising as many questions and issues as it can, The Given Day is superb stuff, and another reminder of what a talent the man truly is. |
| 2-16 | The
Tales of Beedle the Bard, by J.K. Rowling |
A fun, if minor, read from Rowling that expands a little on the background of her Potter universe. The Potter books always thrived in the details, so it's little wonder that Rowling's fairy tales are as well-thought out and as imaginative as the rest of her work. The stories completely fit the morality and differing worldview of her magic-using community, and nicely echo some of the classic ideas of fairy tales. Of course, as a fan, what really makes this worth reading is Dumbledore's commentary, as we get a small window into the mind of one of Rowling's most interesting characters. Yes, it's very brief - perhaps too brief for some (heck, I read it in under an hour) - but given the small price and a chance to go back into the Potter world, it's hard to complain too much. |
| 2-16 | Watching
the Watchmen, by Dave Gibbons |
An interesting companion piece to one of the all-time great comics, Watching the Watchmen is the hardcover equivalent of a behind-the-scenes special on a movie's DVD. I don't mean that in a bad way - for those interested in the book, you get written thoughts on its genesis and development by artist Dave Gibbons, a plethora of concept art and preliminary sketches, and some neat little artifacts. Without much input from Alan Moore, though, and with Gibbons' writing ultimately being so sparse, the book can't help but be a little disappointing, but the look into the world that helped create the book more than makes up for it. I can't say that I'd recommend buying it unless you're an obsessive die-hard fan (myself, I borrowed it from a friend), but if you're interested in a glimpse into how Watchmen developed and was shaped from month to month, it's well worth at least paging through, if only to see the characters shape into their iconic final states. |
| 2-15 | The
Night Gardener, by George Pelecanos |
Reading this, it's no surprise that Pelecanos ended up writing for The Wire; like that show, The Night Gardener uses the basic framework of a serial killer story to tell a far more compelling tale that looks at its characters, the world they inhabit, and societal trends, all while maintaining an engrossing plot. The bait-and-switch of The Night Gardener is a little frustrating, especially with the off-handed way one of the central mysteries is finally resolved (and the sheer number of questions it leaves unexplained), but the richness of Pelecanos's characters and the intelligent worldview he creates more than make up for the loss of another banal serial killer story. In the end, it's a rich and rewarding police procedural with a lot more on its mind than just action, and as long as you're on board with that, you'll find much here to appreciate and savor. |
| 2-8 | The
Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman |
I feel kind of dumb for not recognizing the homage in the title more quickly, especially since even a basic outline of the plot - about a young boy whose family is killed and is adopted and raised by an unusual community - obviously echoes The Jungle Book. And, although I haven't read The Jungle Book in a long time, I'm told that a lot of the stories here have direct counterparts in Kipling's book. But, you know, none of that really matters, except to literature nerds like me. What matters is the tale being told, and if it's told well. And, oh, is this ever well told. Gaiman's imagination is always a wonderful place to explore, even within the "safer" confines of a children's book, and whether exploring the land of the Ghouls or meeting the Indigo Man, Gaiman mixes magic, wonder, and fear perfectly, creating a vibrant story filled with rich characters. I've read some of the complaints - that the story has a lot of ellipses, that major plot points are left out - but I disagree with them. In the end, this story isn't about Bod's family, or the world outside - it's about Bod growing up, and it all builds to a beautiful and powerful last chapter that ends perfectly. In other words, it's Gaiman at his best, and it's a joy to read. |
| 2-7 | Last
Watch, by Sergei Lukyanenko |
In which it turns out that Lukyanenko's been more tightly plotting these books than I suspected. I've enjoyed the Watch series as much for the world created as for the intricate stories of deception, spy games, and more, but I've commented in the past that the series is frustrating for essentially being a series of zero-sum games. A lot of that changes in Last Watch, which ends up pushing things to interesting, complicated new levels, expanding the action beyond Russia and tying together all of the books into one complex finale. There's a lot of action in this book, and in some ways, it's the most straightforward of the set, but it's also the most satisfying in many ways, as a lot of closure and character threads are resolved. I hate to see the series end, but with a final volume that works this well, it's hard to complain too much. Here's hoping more of Lukyanenko's work gets translated to English soon, because I've quite enjoyed these. |
| 1-31 | The
Missing, by Sarah Langan |
Two books into her writing career, and Sarah Langan has me hooked for life as an outstanding horror writer. Her first book, The Keeper, was a haunted house tale pushed to include an entire town, and in doing so echoed King's debut, Carrie; fittingly, her second book makes a great counterpart to King's sophomore effort, Salem's Lot. The Missing details the fate of a town infected by a disease that may or may not be entirely natural, and documents the havoc, mayhem, and carnage that follows. What's really impressed me with Langan so far is the meticulous and thoughtful way she sets her stage, populating her book with strong characters so that when the horror comes, we're truly hooked and know what these people have lost. Add to that her strong, poetic writing and a knack for doling out just enough horror to be truly effective and disturbing, and you have a hell of a read. If I have a gripe, it's that the ending was a bit abrupt, but the more I think on it, the more I like it; I just didn't expect it to end so quickly. But count me in for anything Langan puts out from here on out - between this and The Keeper, she's impressed the hell out of this horror devotee in a big way. |
| 1-28 | More
Information Than You Require, by John Hodgman |
I was worried, when I got this, that it couldn't live up to Areas for sheer insanity and hilarity. I was right. It doesn't live up to it - it surpasses it. Packing in even more information, including a page-a-day calendar, Hodgman returns to the pseudo-almanac form for another barrage of fictional facts, and the results got me more strange looks in public as I cracked up through every bizarre page. From the Teddy Roosevelt facts to the sequels to The Prince, from a strange weather feud between Milwaukee and Richmond to lost souls destined to become Ralph Macchio, More Information Than You Require is side-splittingly funny throughout, and the fact that he's already planning a third book is just icing on the cake for me. |
| 1-20 | The
Areas of My Expertise, by John Hodgman |
A re-read, since I a) got this for Christmas and b) got the follow-up and wanted to re-read this first just in case there were callbacks. (There are.) I remembered enjoying this; I had forgotten, though, just how gleefully silly, deranged, and bizarre Hodgman's humor often is, made all the more hilarious by his deadpan prose. (I would imagine that the audiobook version of this, with his cadence and delivery, would be genius.) I understand that Hodgman's tongue-in-cheek, dry wit isn't for everyone, but as you get into his anarchic, surreal, twisted world, the result is side-splittingly funny all the way through, from the secret history of hoboes to the hook-handed presidents and beyond. I've read this twice now, and found it hilarious both times. On to More Information Than You Require, which I couldn't be more excited for. |
| 1-18 | 20th
Century Ghosts, by Joe Hill |
An outstanding horror short story collection from a new author who's destined for greatness. Hill's debut novel Heart-Shaped Box wowed me, but this collection really finishes the sell job, as it becomes readily apparent that Hill has some immense talent. What really makes Ghosts stand out, though, is the way that Hill is more than willing to to let genuine emotion in; several of the stories in Ghosts aren't horror tales at all, but unlike many horror authors, these attempts feel just as powerful and effective as anything else in the book. That's not to downplay Hill's knack for the strange and unsettling; the final novella "Voluntary Commitment" is one of the more quietly disturbing horror tales I've read, made all the more effective by its lack of gore. If you're a serious horror fan, I can't recommend this one enough. With tales like "Abraham's Boys" providing a fascinating epilogue to Dracula's famed slayer, the title story's reflections on cinema and history, and "Dead-Wood" provided a very different kind of ghost story, this work feels like someone who's been writing for years. Get out there and get it. |
| 1-16 | The
Commitment, by Dan Savage |
Given my fixation on gay marriage as of late, and my increasing respect and admiration of Dan Savage, when I found out he wrote a book on the topic, how could I not pick it up? Largely a memoir about Savage and his boyfriend's debate over whether to marry, The Commitment maintains Savage's usual level of sharp wit and keen insight, resulting in a book that not only greatly entertains but also provides a lot to think about and even some quietly moving moments. For sheer hilarity, nothing may beat the disastrous diaper rash story, but what really makes The Commitment such an effective read is the story of Savage's family and their differing takes on the idea of gay marriage, all leading up to a powerful story about Savage's young adopted son. It's a wonderful read, one that reminds us that the most important aspect of gay marriage isn't politics, or gender, or sexuality, or children - it's the human desire for love and affection, a public declaration of one person's love for another. An outstanding book, not only for its richly entertaining world, but also for its all-too-important message. Highly recommended. |
| 1-13 | Let
the Right One In, by John Ajvide Lindqvist |
Having seen the movie (and absolutely loved it), I finally got a copy of the book it's based on, and it's a hell of a read. In the end, I think I have to give the edge to the film - it's more understated, leaving more to the imagination (until the hellacious finale) and dropping a couple of plot elements that work well in the book, but distract from the fascinating key relationship. That being said, it's a great read - some truly chilling scenes, a fascinating explanation for vampirism, and some beautiful writing that ends up spinning a tale of love, revenge, isolation, and more, creating something wholly unique. If you've only got the chance for one, see the film, but if you're a serious horror fan, you owe it to yourself to check out the book. A great horror read, and one of the few truly great vampire novels I've had the chance to read. |
| 1-4 |
Dark
Victory, |
More of a continuation of The Long Halloween than a sequel, Dark Victory applies the same psychologically-driven tale of origin to Batman's sidekick Robin that Halloween did to Two-Face, and does the character right in the process. Rather than using Robin for cheap gags and a weak sidekick, Loeb and Sale intertwine him with Wayne, drawing out their similarities and need for each other, culminating in a heartbreaking chapter in which the reader watches the two boy's mirror reactions to the death of their families. There's more than the Robin story here, though, as the recurring serial killer idea is brought back with a grisly new twist, but one that feels like an extension of the Holiday killings from Halloween, not a cheap re-use. It's a far better tale than I expected, and provides a good sense of closure to this rough trilogy that I think it needs. Highly recommended. |
| 1-4 | The
Long Halloween, by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale |
The Dark Knight to Year One's Batman Begins, The Long Halloween tells not only the story of Harvey Dent, but also of Gotham's transition from organized crime to costumed "freaks" like Joker and Penguin. I enjoyed this a lot the first time I read it, but re-reading it after Year One makes it feel like a nice part of a larger story, and there are a lot of references to the first book I picked up on. More than that, though, Halloween stands well on its own; Year One finds itself co-opted by Nolan, but Halloween tells a compelling murder mystery on its own, in addition to exploring themes of escalation, justice, and identity. It's stronger than I remember it being, and I remember loving it; reading it again, it's apparent not only how much it influenced Nolan's vision for the sequel, but also how much impact it had on Batman's universe, bringing a film noir feeling to a fantastic world. A top notch Batman tale, and I'm excited to finally read the follow-up, Dark Victory. |
| 1-3 | Batman:
Year One, by Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli |
A strong, thoughtful Batman origin story that's unfortunately eclipsed by the Nolan Batman films. There;s no doubt that, had I read Year One before seeing Batman Begins, it would have blown me away. As an antidote to the increasingly silly, campy Batman, Miller returns to the roots of the character, spinning a fascinating two-pronged tale about the arrival of both Batman and Gordon to Gotham City, as both attempt to cope with and battle the corruption they find there. It's a simple tale, and far shorter than I expected - I didn't realize that it was just four issues long. That being said, there are some incredible scenes, and the stark artwork brings an impact to some of the imagery, especially a shot of Gordon in his house one night. All of that being said, it's hard not to have the shadow of Begins hanging over this, which took on a lot of this and more, spinning an even more complex origin tale, and in some ways, one-upping it. Taken on its own, Year One is an impressive Batman tale, and a powerful one (though Dark Knight Returns is still my favorite that I've read); it's just hard to read it as a standalone entity, and not be aware of what it inspired. |
| 1-3 | Our
Dumb World, by the staff of The Onion |
A pretty awesome atlas compiled by The Onion staff, with pages dedicated (more or less) to every country on Earth. If you buy it, I recommend just browsing through it - if you read it all at once, as I did, it can get a little tiring and tedious in parts, especially as they attempt to find a way to get comedy out of yet another horrific situation in Africa. Honestly, they do a great job - the book is equal parts cynical mocking, satirical jabs, and horrific trip around the world, all done with the Onion's trademark dark humor. It's rare to find a book that makes me laugh this hard or has so many quotable lines - it's just better in small doses, I think. But it would make a superb counterpart to America: The Book and I Am America (And So Can You) in its taking on of the current world. Not for the easily offended, but for those who enjoy the Onion's typically warped stuff, highly recommended. |
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