Books
Review: A Crown of Swords by Robert Jordan
Aug 19th
My Kindle re-read of Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time continues with A Crown of Swords.
This was the termination of my initial read-through of the series — at this point Path of Daggers wasn’t out yet, and I was in for a long wait for the next volume in the series. I remember being particularly bored and disillusioned with the Wheel of Time by this point, particularly with the Ebou Dar storyline. I’ve found that on my second reading of the book some 13 years later that I enjoyed it a great deal more than during my original reading — particularly (and ironically), the arc centered around Ebou Dar and the hunt for the Bowl of Winds. Mat Cauthon is increasingly becoming my favorite character in the series and seeing him finally getting treated with the respect he deserves by the Aes Sedai was satisfying, as was Elayne and Nynaeve’s dealings with the “real” sisters and the Kin.
Although more significant events take place in Lord of Chaos, A Crown of Swords is shorter and therefore unburdened by its predecessor’s many filler chapters. Not to say that there isn’t filler here — the central storyline of A Crown of Swords is a bit of a cul-de-sac for the series, as the struggle to fix the world’s broken weather is nothing more than a distraction from the Last Battle. I found it to be a relatively brief read, and although it doesn’t further the story significantly, the character movement was satisfying, and Mat’s cliffhanger is still as strong as I remembered. Tangential though the story may be, it comes down to whether or not you like the characters — I happen to be fond of them, so spending some time with Mat, Elayne and Nynaeve in Ebou Dar wasn’t a bad way to spend a week and a half of reading.
However, on the negative side, the pacing of Rand’s arc was especially uneven. The showdown at the end seemed to come out of nowhere, given that the chief antagonist was barely mentioned in A Crown of Swords before the climax. It does show that Jordan was able to move the story when he wanted to and could have resolved many of his story lines within a few chapters. However, in this case the lack of any kind of build-up to the fight left me a bit bewildered. The ending itself is incredibly rushed, the payoff seemingly unearned given the similar ending (and better set-up) featured in The Dragon Reborn. This is something I remembered from my first read-through, and my opinion has changed little on the second.
At this point, readers know whether or not they’re invested in the series — if you like Mat, Elayne and Nynaeve, then A Crown of Swords will be a worthy read. But if you’re plowing through the series eager for the start of Tarmon Gaidon, you are setting yourself up for disappointment.
Review: The Hero of Ages by Brandon Sanderson
Aug 3rd
Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn trilogy has been a surprisingly good read, and the final volume, Hero of Ages, ends the series in a way I never quite expected. The edge hard science fiction has always had over the other speculative genres has been its ability to comment on contemporary life through a high concept setting. Epic fantasy tends to be a simpler affair, focusing on the black and white battle between good and evil over examining the human condition. Generally, it’s Joseph Campbell recycled, but not so with Hero of Ages. In the final volume of the series, Sanderson deals with issues of faith and atheism, the inconsistencies of organized religion and how normal people can made into martyrs, messiahs and gods.
Picking up a year after Well of Ascension, Hero of Ages opens on the cusp of the apocalypse. The mists, once confined to the night, are staying out longer and longer through the daytime. People exposed to them are struck down by a mysterious illness or killed, and the ash mounts are throwing a near-constant spray of ash into the atmosphere. As Vin and Elend seek out clues left behind by the Lord Ruler that may hold the secret for saving the world, Spook, Sazed and TenSoon all have trials of their own to overcome.
The various character arcs converge on an endpoint that is moving, haunting and ultimately satisfying. The action sequences are as exhilarating as in previous volumes, and although some of the characterization can come off a bit flat at times, the greater subtext of the series, as well as the revelations regarding the nature of the mists, allomancy and the world itself have real resonance.
I fear saying anything more would give too much away, but the Mistborn trilogy isn’t just a great series, it also heralds the arrival of a massive (and prolific) talent. Brandon Sanderson is the real deal — I can’t wait to read his contributions to the Wheel of Time, as well as his upcoming novel, the Way of Kings. Once you get to the end of Mistborn you’ll understand just how serious he is as a writer — this is a man who walks shoulder to shoulder with George R.R. Martin. No mean feat, given how many authors have failed to live up to the comparison.
Review: Lord of Chaos by Robert Jordan
Jul 16th
When I first read Robert Jordan’s Lord of Chaos back in 1997, I remember it being a grueling read that sapped my enthusiasm for the series. In many ways, it sets the formula for its successors — hundreds of pages of inertia punctuated by an event at the end. Now that I’m older and am better at deconstructing an author’s intent, successful or not, I do appreciate what Robert Jordan was trying to do with the book. The payoff is neatly executed based on themes set-up throughout the book, it’s just that it necessitates making the women of the book — particularly Nynaeve and Elayne — extremely unlikable.
Lord of Chaos is fundamentally about Rand’s relationship with the Aes Sedai, which in turn is a proxy for the relationships between men and women in general. In Fires of Heaven, Moiraine told him never to trust another Aes Sedai — Rand understands the argument, but naively underestimates the two delegations that come to him. He chooses to trust the wrong delegation, and that in turn forces a series of events that culminates in the Battle of Dumai’s Wells, perhaps one of the most visceral and exhilarating action sequences in the series. The final moments of the story proper also bring about the natural resolution for Robert Jordan’s major themes — his view of the politics between men and women, and in particular, the manipulation and humiliation of men at the hands of women and ultimately the need for women to submit to men.
I’m not sure if I would describe Robert Jordan as a sexist, necessarily, and he’s definitely not a misogynist, but he takes the “Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars” approach to an embarrassing level. The women of the book do not treat its men very well — indeed, Rand is literally tortured for being a man that can channel (though one wonders if he’s tortured for simply being a man who stands up to powerful women). This has been a problem for me throughout the series, but I find it especially troubling in Lord of Chaos. Gender is treated as a see saw, tilting the balance of power between one side or the other. There is no equality, only a struggle for dominance.
I want to continue my re-read of the series to get to Brandon Sanderson’s contributions, but I wonder how much more of this I can take. It’s especially a shame because the earlier books were so entertaining. Alas, I must grit my teeth and soldier on to the end, although each volume grows more tedious than the last.
Review: Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem
Jun 14th
Brooklyn. The name floats constantly in the air, calling to hipsters of all ages from across the globe. As a resident of Washington, D.C., I have seen numerous people I know move there, some returning to Washington, some staying behind on that distant island to the north with its beckoning neighborhoods — Bed-Stuy, Park Slope, Williamsburg. Just as Manhattan was once (and still is) the source of all-consuming New York City naval gazing, Brooklyn has now seized its own chunk of the self-obsessed NYC mantle. “Brooklyn is the new Manhattan,” Ted Danson’s editor character told Jason Schwartzman’s Jonathan Ames character on the HBO series, Bored to Death. Sadly, it was only half a joke.
Jonathan Lethem’s Fortress of Solitude is perhaps the gold standard for Brooklyn narcissism. It follows the story of Dylan Ebdus, a white kid whose parents were part of the early wave of gentrification in the 1970′s, Fortress of Solitude is about how contemporary Brooklyn came to be than it is how Dylan Ebdus grew into adulthood there. Long and rambling, most chapters serve to celebrate some aspect of Brooklyn’s history, painting the city with obtuse sentences that sound good as they roll into the brain from the page (or in my case, my Kindle), but when considered for too long hardly make a bit of sense.
Just as race relations and gentrification are the sources of modern Brooklyn’s conflicts (one need look no further than Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing to see that gentrification has long been a concern for the borough), race relations inform the central plot of the novel. Dylan, being a living racial experiment for his Utopian mother, is the one white boy in a black neighborhood and black public school. Thus he is bullied and harassed for his whiteness by a sea of faceless black children. With the exception of his friend Mingus Rude, most black characters in the early part of the novel are pretty much the same character — a dehumanized other who exist solely to “yoke” Dylan for pocket change. If anything, Dylan’s experience is a reflection of white anxiety more so than the reality of race relations. Dylan’s experience is, I think, oversimplified and stereotypical. The reality of minority whites in a majority black city is much more complex — as a father with children in a D.C. public charter school, I can say with some authority that the brutalization of Dylan’s daily life does not reflect the reality my daughters see every day in our city. As a human being, I’m offended by the simplification of many of the book’s black characters.
Dylan drifts through the tumultuous 1970′s reading Marvel comics, seeing the emergence of disco, punk and hip hop, and incongruously receiving a magic ring from a flying homeless man. Literature enthusiasts will no doubt enjoy the “magical realism” of this ring, which is barely explained and may not actually be real. But as a longtime reader of fantasy, particularly contemporary “slipstream” fantasy that has its own literary ambitions, I have to say that Lethem handles the ring rather clumsily. It seems incredibly out of place in Dylan’s bildungsroman, and does not help the sprawling, unfocused narrative.
In the end, Fortress of Solitude became a chore to finish — as my enthusiasm waned, I found it harder and harder to get through its pages. Perhaps if I aspired to one day move to Brooklyn, I would have had a different experience with the novel — but as I have no affection for that magical borough, I can confidently say that this book is not for me, or others not already enamored with it.
Book Review: Kaboom by Matthew Gallagher
May 31st
Mathew Gallagher, though largely unheard of in civilian circles, was at the center of a mild military firestorm when officers discovered his blog, which was openly critical of institutional bureaucracy. Ultimately, the brass forced him to shut down his blog, but Gallagher kept writing — the result is his memoir of his experience on the wire in Iraq as a platoon leader, Kaboom.
Gallagher excels at describing the peculiar culture of America’s volunteer army with humor and attention to the little details. Throughout Kaboom, we get a sense of the ground level insanity and simple stupidity of the military leadership, while gaining an enormous respect for the troops tasked with carrying out what are sometimes contradictory orders. The day-to-day of military life is grueling, boring and sometimes rattled by moments of violence, and Gallagher’s account certainly conveys that to a largely ignorant civilian audience. Throughout the book, one develops a great appreciation for the soldiers, NCO’s and junior officers out in the field, trying to making America’s counterinsurgency plan in Iraq work.
In addition, Gallagher describes the complicated political situation on the ground between Shia and Sunni Iraqis, various paramilitary forces, the Iraqi National Police, the Iraqi Army in a way that further illustrates the naiveté of the war’s original goals.
It’s also worth noting that much time in the book is given to illustrating the U.S. Army’s dependence on civilian interpreters (or “terps”), and the bravery of the local men who openly collaborate with the Americans for the greater good of their country. The interpreters are a fully integrated part of the U.S. military presence in Iraq and being identified by the wrong people could put their lives and the lives of their families at great risk. Yet these men continue to work with the U.S. Army in an attempt to improve conditions in Iraq.
Where the book falls short, however, is when Gallagher attempts to describe his state of mind through all this — the resulting chapters read like a mix of blank verse and Nine Inch Nail lyrics. He’s best when he’s writing a clear account of the facts, but at his weakest when he attempts to push his writing beyond that.
I have not read many books on the war in Iraq — Evan Wright’s Generation Kill being the only other one — so I can’t speak to how Kaboom compares to other Iraq memoirs. I can say, however, that I found it to be an engaging and funny look at a world that is poorly reported by the mainstream media. It was certainly worth my time.
Review: American Salvage by Bonnie Jo Campbell
May 14th
In a literary world where disposable books about shopaholics, arm candy and upper middle class angst are all the rage, it’s nice to discover a book devoted to the lives of ordinary people. Sure, the stories in American Salvage may never get turned into hit films, but they offer up a look at American life lacking from much of today’s contemporary literary fiction. The struggles of the white working class, often forgotten in the popular imagination, are the focus of this incredible collection of stories. So incredible that American Salvage was nominated for a National Book Award, which is nearly unheard of for short story collections.
Campbell’s currency is the tragedy of everyday life, of people living on the margins of society, teetering toward financial and personal ruin. Meth, alcohol, crime and violence all play their part, and many of the characters are reminiscent of people I know, family members and old friends long gone. There is a indisputable honesty and truth to these stories, and though they might not always hit every beat, they always vividly bring their characters to life.
Like other readers, I am reminded of Denis Johnson’s beautiful Jesus’ Son (probably my favorite book of all time), although there is no central narrator to tie the stories together. Campbell’s use of language and the original lives and situations she crafts are nearly as good as Johnson’s, and each story ends on an emotional swell that sticks with you long after you’ve finished it.
Highly recommended.
Review: Grant and Sherman: The Friendship That Won the Civil War by Charles Bracelen Flood
May 7th
The Civil War has long been one of my favorite periods in American history, and Ulysses S. Grant and William Tecumseh Sherman are perhaps its most significant actors outside of Abraham Lincoln. So imagine my delight when I discovered a joint biography that focuses on their unique bond, and how it was instrumental in winning the war. Other books have touched on the subject, but not in the depth I was looking for. But sadly, the marketing for a book and the book itself can sometimes be two completely different things, as is the case here.
Grant and Sherman is a work of popular history that covers the biographies of its subjects from their childhoods through the conclusion of the Civil War, with a few chapters dealing with their postwar relationship. There is very little here that hasn’t been covered in greater detail in other books. It’s nice to get reacquainted with the events of their lives, but unless you’ve never read biographies of either man — or their highly recommended memoirs — then you’re not going to get much out of it. There is very little detailed analysis on their friendship, and a lot of the writing — particularly in the later half of the book where there seems to be fewer primary sources — extrapolates what the two men where thinking or feeling. It may make for good drama, but it’s not necessarily good history.
That said, I would recommend Grant and Sherman for anyone who would like a breezy primer on the lives of both men, as well as an overview of the western theater of the Civil War. There is genuine emotion to be found here, and Flood does a fine job of dramatizing the contradictory feelings of joy and despair that filled the nation following the War’s conclusion and the President’s assassination. More widely-read aficionados of the war will probably find themselves underwhelmed, but newcomers to the topic will definitely enjoy it.
Review: I Am Not a Serial Killer by Dan Wells
Apr 26th
Dan Wells’ debut novel deals with John Wayne Cleaver, a disaffected teenage boy living somewhere in the Midwest with his mother, a mortician by trade, and dealing with both the absence of his father and an unreliable sister. Also, he’s a diagnosed sociopath who visits a therapist once a week. Growing up around dead people has had an effect on John, who loves the process of embalming (described in lavish and well-researched detail by Wells), and is fascinated with serial killers. He has one friend, another outcast named Max, who he keeps around in attempt to fool the world into thinking he’s normal. He’s seemingly incapable of empathy and is struggling with his natural instinct to kill for pleasure.
And then something happens — people in town start dying in grotesque ways. It is clear that serial killer has taken up residence in town, and John commits himself to not only uncovering the killer’s identity, but also stopping him. Like fellow literary psycho Dexter Morgan, John believes that he can unleash his inner monster if it’s in the service of stopping another killer. But what happens when the killer is not what he seems — when there’s more to him than John suspects? That he kills for a reason John is virtually incapable of understanding. A reason that ultimately causes John to question who the real monster is — the killer, or himself?
In many ways I am reminded of another supernatural novel set in a snowy environment, featuring a disaffected teenage boy with psycopathic tendencies — the excellent Swedish Vampire novel, Let the Right One In. And although it doesn’t have that book’s amazing emotional core, but it shares Let the Right One In‘s mixing of mundane life with elements of horror and insanity.
I Am Not a Serial Killer is a relatively short book, but does an excellent job of establishing John and his inner struggle. It has an unexpected, though welcome fantasy element, and although it can be easily pigeon-holed as a teenage Dexter, it only shares the same concept. Wells does different things than one might expect. It is not perfect, however — John’s first person narration sometimes rings false, with John using words and terminology a teenage boy would not use. At times, I found myself taken out of the otherwise engaging narrative due to certain expressions and phrases not ringing true. That said, it is an extremely promising first novel and establishes Dan Wells as a writer to watch. I’m not sure that I agree with the publisher’s decision to market it as young adult fiction given some of the themes it deals with — but all and all, it is an enjoyable read and well worth your time.
Review: The View from the Bridge by Nicholas Meyer
Apr 20th
The View from the Bridge, Nicholas Meyer’s memoir of his life in Hollywood, is a perfect of example of why I have a Kindle. It was a book I was interested in reading, but never would have sought out in a book store. The ease of use of Kindle erased the barrier to entry — my laziness — and resulted in access to a thoroughly entertaining book.
Breezy and conversational, Meyer offers up his story of making movies in Hollywood, including lively accounts of his involvement with three of the original crew Star Trek movies. Most of this information is old news to longtime Trekkers, as Meyer himself writes, but Meyer goes into a greater level of detail regarding the business aspects of film making than past accounts. For anyone interested in the art of movie making, as well as the practical limitations placed on writers and directors by the corporate suits at the studio, Meyer’s book gives a great glimpse into that world as it stood in the 1980′s and 1990′s.
There’s not much else to say regarding the book — the Kindle edition is a bit overpriced for the content, but Meyer is an interesting and self-deprecatingly honest character, and spending a few hours reading him spin the great Hollywood yarn that is is own life is definitely recommended. Just wait for the price to drop.
Review: Well of Ascension (Mistborn Book 2) by Brandon Sanderson
Apr 15th
With every action, there is a consequence — and Well of Ascension, the follow-up to Brandon Sanderson’s excellent Mistborn: The Final Empire is all about unintended consequences and their impact on the residents of the Final Empire.
Following the events of the first novel, things haven’t quite worked out quite how Vin, Elend and Kelsier’s crew had in mind. Luthadel is under siege and strange things are happening in the mists. A mysterious Mistborn is stalking the streets of the city at night and many questions remain about the Lord Ruler, the Deepness and allomancy.
In the first half of the book, Sanderson begins his set-up and there are some interesting twists and turns, but it does tend to drag a bit. Vin deals with some internal struggles, which while logical, do feel a bit like the infamous “ball” sequences in the first novel.
Yet somewhere after the midway point Sanderson finishes assembling his plot and things begin to unfold in a surprising and exciting manner. Although the climax of Mistborn: the Final Empire is superior, the closing events of Well of Ascension are impressively rendered, offering Sanderson’s strong blend of compelling characters and huge action sequences. The ending expertly sets up book three, following the overall theme of “unintended” consequences that runs through the course of the novel.
Despite the slow start, Well of Ascension is a worthy follow-up to its predecessor and is more proof that Brandon Sanderson is the best fantasy novelist of his generation, the true heir to Robert Jordan and George R.R. Martin
