Cooper, Susan: (01) Over Sea, Under Stone

Over the holidays, I re-read Susan Cooper’s Over Sea, Under Stone, the first book in The Dark Is Rising series. Widely held to be the weakest of the books, I enjoyed it more than I remembered, though I doubt I’d re-read it if it were a standalone.

Sarah Monette has a number of perceptive spoilery comments about this book, one of which is that this is a sunny book compared to the others. If so, then I might want to wait for spring to read the rest, because I found a couple of sequences in this book surprisingly tense.

Relatedly, this book does introduce what I recall as a regrettable tendency in the series, the use of plot tokens. The Drew children and the reader are forced to take the importance of this book’s quest object, the grail, at another character’s word; by itself it doesn’t seem particularly vital (it’s not, for those unfamiliar with the books, the Holy Grail, but a later creation).

As I re-read the series, I’ll be interested to see whether I feel this book was necessary. The Drews don’t appear at all in the second book, and I don’t remember the third well enough to say what uses it puts the characterization and backstory established here (Speaking of characterization: boy, Simon got on my nerves. And Jane comes off as a sop (or, as Monette more accurately and charitably puts it, as “the collective child’s conscience”).) I believe it’s sufficiently different enough from the rest of the series that it makes sense to skip it at first, but whether I would recommend that non-completists come back to it is another matter.

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Chase, Loretta: (103) Lord Perfect

The third book in Loretta Chase’s Carsington Brothers series, Lord Perfect, is just not as interesting as the first two. In some ways this isn’t a surprise, because keeping the series at that high a level would be remarkably difficult, but it’s still a bit of a disappointment.

Benedict Carsington is the oldest and a respected politician with a strong social conscience. Not a breath of scandal has ever attached to his name, and all his actions are conducted according to a rigid set of rules that he uses to impose order on a chaotic world. One of his many responsibilities is the education of his thirteen-year-old nephew by marriage, Peregrine.

Bathsheba Wingate comes from a disreputable branch of an aristocratic family and became infamous when her husband’s family disowned him upon their marriage. Now widowed, she supports her twelve-year-old daughter Olivia by giving drawing lessons. Olivia, having inherited some of the talents and inclinations of her maternal ancestors, targets Peregrine as a potential drawing student . . . and then tries to whack him in the head when he condescends to her.

Sparks, predictably, fly, resulting in the kids going on a (platonic) Quest together and the adults chasing after. And there are the two principal problems of the book. First, Olivia and Peregrine steal the book shamelessly. Second, the stakes boil down to whether the adults will find the kids before something bad happens to them—not that I believed they were ever in real danger, because these are not those kind of books—and whether scandal can be avoided or dealt with—which I don’t care very much about, certainly not compared to the canal problem or Egyptology adventures of the first two books.

Bathsheba and Benedict are perfectly nice people, and I would be surprised if Chase could write a book that didn’t have a good deal of charm; but I concur with those who said this book was kind of boring.

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McKinley, Robin: Sunshine

What a very odd book Robin McKinley’s Sunshine is.

It opens thusly:

It was a dumb thing to do but it wasn’t that dumb. There hadn’t been any trouble out at the lake in years. And it was so exquisitely far from the rest of my life.

There follows discussion of the narrator’s baking and mother and siblings and lover and a tiny bit of worldbuilding backstory, nine hardcover pages of it, until:

I never heard them coming. Of course you don’t, when they’re vampires.

(Which, incidentally, is the first time the word “vampire” is mentioned in the book. You can read this entire section online, and indeed I recommend you do if this review ends up sounding at all interesting.)

The whole book is basically like this: lots of near-breathless, discursive first-person narration, containing, here and there, an interesting deconstruction of cliched vampire stories. While reading, I was conscious that there were considerable periods of waiting for something to happen . . . and yet I kept reading. I can’t explain that.

Some things I can say: the ending is much less abstract than some of McKinley’s endings. Some of the characters are less developed than they should be. The plot that begins with the vampires’ appearance is completed, but a lot of loose ends remain. And McKinley is often thought of as a YA author, but this probably does not get shelved in YA because it contains brief but matter-of-factly explicit references to sex. (I don’t think I’d have a problem with anyone over, oh, double-digits in years reading it, but then I read Presumed Innocent and Hyperion when I was twelve and didn’t die. Plus the view taken of sex here is much healthier.) And it is definitely different from the Culture series, which is what I was going for.

But ultimately, this is a very odd book, and probably the only way to tell if you’d like it is to read a sample.

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Banks, Iain M.: (01-02) Consider Phlebas; The Player of Games

I decided to start re-reading Iain M. Banks’ Culture series because the newest book is due out in February and it’s been a while since I read any of them. I read Consider Phlebas the weekend before Christmas and The Player of Games shortly after.

I would like to write something analytic and detailed about these books, but can’t find a lot to say. Maybe it’s because I was reading them in holiday mode, or maybe it’s because they’re familiar (even though I didn’t remember Consider Phlebas very well). Regardless, this is going to be more cursory than I’d hoped.

Consider Phlebas is set during a war between the Idirans, a religious empire, and the Culture, a post-scarcity and deliberately egalitarian society. It’s mostly told from the point-of-view of Bora Horza Gobuchul, a humanoid working for the Idirans because he opposes the Culture’s ideals and structure. This setup leads to there being two schools of thought about the book’s effectiveness as a starting point to the series. One says that its whole point is seeing the Culture through the eyes of one of its enemies and deciding that he’s wrong [*], and therefore it would lose its effectiveness if the reader had already met the Culture. The other says that, whatever the benefits might be, they’re outweighed by the book being the weakest of the series.

[*] If you do. I know a few people who don’t, though probably not to the extent of wanting to join the war on the Idiran side.

After this re-read, I’m going to join the second camp. The book does demonstrate the inventiveness and energy of the series, but its episodic structure makes it feel unfocused and longer than necessary. Also, one of the episodes is needlessly gross (and probably makes very little sense, but I made a point of skimming past it quickly so couldn’t say for sure).

A minor note: this book is the only book I know with its Epilogue after the Appendices. They’re all part of the story. (The funky narrative structure is also characteristic of the series.)

The next book, The Player of Games, is considerably tighter and more successful. Also, it has a really cool premise: an entire Empire is held together and structured around a mind-bogglingly complicated game, the winner of which becomes Emperor. The Culture has recently contacted the Empire, but purports to be unsure how to deal with it since interstellar empires are unprecedented in its experience, and so sends one of its best players to play the game.

This book has its anvilicious moments, but works better for me because I got a clearer view of the central character and a more focused story. Also, I enjoy the continued illumination of the Culture through contrasts with other societies.

I took a break after these two books, though, thinking that the next, Use of Weapons, might feel too similar: all three are tightly focused on a single man and share themes of people as weapons or tools. Instead, I detoured off into fantasy.

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Enoch, Suzanne: (03.5-04) Twice the Temptation; A Touch of Minx

Suzanne Enoch’s contemporary caper/romance series had a stealth entry with Twice the Temptation, which is basically her Remember When: two novellas linked by diamonds, one in each of the author’s principal genres. The first, “A Diamond or Forever,” is a Regency romance featuring Rick Addison’s ancestors which gave the book its cover (hence the stealth nature). I enjoyed this perfectly well, but didn’t find it notable enough to motivate me to read Enoch’s other Regencies. The other novella, “Diamonds Are Not A Girl’s Best Friend,” is the contemporary tale featuring Rick and Samantha Jellicoe. Perhaps because I was a bit under the weather when I read it a while ago, it made me cranky: I didn’t approve of the way the ongoing power and trust struggles played out.

The fourth novel in the series, A Touch of Minx, is a lot better (even if its title has nothing to do with anything). Samantha is juggling two retrieval jobs, a set of valuable stolen museum goods and an anatomical classroom model (as a favor to an honorary niece), which amused me inordinately. Plus, in her personal life, Rick is getting impatient with her ongoing commitment issues.

I liked the actual plot in this one, and the continuing development of secondary characters. I still skip the sex scenes (not only are they repetitive, but I am jarred by Enoch’s word choices), but otherwise this was good winter-afternoon reading.

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Pullman, Philip: (01) The Golden Compass

After watching the movie adaptation of Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass last night, I gave the book a quick re-read today.

The book is better, as it makes more sense and is far less anvilicious. I love the rich strange compelling nature of the world-building and the characters here, and the range of emotions, and the hints at hugely ambitious goings-on. My memory of it is by far the clearest of the series, though I’m not sure if that’s because I liked it best or I just had more opportunties to re-read. I’m likely to go on and re-read the second book, too, though I’m unsure whether I’ll bother with the third, which I do not remember fondly—which puts me in the odd position of not recommending this book, for all that it’s excellent.

(I’ve just noticed that our mass market edition, a first edition of Del Rey’s May 1997 printing, promises an introduction by Terry Brooks on its cover, but contains no such thing inside. I can’t say I regret the omission.)

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Chase, Loretta: (101) Miss Wonderful

After reading Mr. Impossible, I went back to the beginning of Loretta Chase’s series with Miss Wonderful. To my surprise and delight, this was very close to being just as good.

Alistair Carsington has a history of falling in love “quickly, deeply, and disastrously.” (The list of his “Episodes of Stupidity” in the Prologue is wonderful.) After the last scandal, his father packed him off into the army, just in time for him to be seriously injured at Waterloo. Now a reluctant war hero, he is determined to save his fortune, and the fortune of his friend, by getting a canal approved.

Mirabel Oldridge has been running her botanist father’s estates for years, and vehemently opposes the canal plan. She’s not alone in her opposition–but she’s the only one willing to stand against a noble-born war hero.

One of the things I like about Chase’s books to date is that they’re about something other than the romance plot. Here, the proposed canal poses a genuine dilemma, and I admire its handling more than I can say without spoilers. More, it’s intertwined with character problems and growth that are, again, independent of the romance plot. Being both sensible and charming is a good trick, but one which this book manages.

My only quibble is with the book’s portrayal of recovering from post-traumatic stress disorder, which struck me as edging toward facile. Which is peculiar, because the book’s treatment of reactions to Waterloo seemed nuanced otherwise. It’s a very small element of the book, however, which I enjoyed very much.

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Wilks, Eileen: (03) Blood Lines

Eileen Wilks’ Blood Lines concludes the trilogy started by Tempting Danger. Magic levels are rising dangerously and unpredictably, which is bad enough on its own, but someone is using the power spikes to summon demons to attack the lupi.

Besides liking the prior two books in the series, I was favorably inclined toward this book from the opening of Chapter One:

The National Symphony’s performance of Handel’s Messiah had started at eight thirty, so the choir was winding up the “Hallelujah Chorus” when the lead tenor turned into a wolf.

And for quite a while, the book lives up to that, moving briskly and with an engaging sense of heightened jeopardy.

Unfortunately the plot’s climax is a rickety contrivance that pushed me out of the story. I’m also not happy with the way the story treats Cynna, a major character introduced in the prior book. As she is one of the main characters of the next book (which appears to go off in a different direction, plot-wise), I’ll be looking for an acknowledgment of these problems. So, not as good as the prior books, but I won’t be ditching the series quite yet.

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Shinn, Sharon: (02-04) The Thirteenth House; Dark Moon Defender; Reader and Raelynx

I read the second and third books in Sharon Shinn’s Twelve Houses series in paperback a few weeks ago, and the fourth and most recent from the library recently. On the whole, I found these cozy entertainment, though nothing impressive in terms of form or content.

Well, with the exception of The Thirteenth House, the second book, which does two things: it explores the political situation of the twelve noble houses and their vassals, the House of the title. And it is the story of how Kirra and the potential regent—the married potential regent—fall in love. Unfortunately the book suffers from a fundamental structural imbalance, the complete failure to do justice to Donnal, Kirra’s devoted and constant companion. This Donnal-shaped hole is a fatal distraction for me.

The third book, Dark Moon Defender, is a better, more balanced book. It examines the religious order that murders mystics and supports rebellion against the king, through a convent novice who gradually realizes the true aims of the order and the danger it places her in. This is a somewhat conventional story of love and adventure, but I liked the characters and found it an enjoyable read.

At this point, my overall impression of the series was that the broader plot was developing very slowly. I also didn’t really think it would culminate in a war, for all that everyone kept predicting one, because it just didn’t feel like that kind of series. I also saw news on Shinn’s site (non-linkable Flash) about a potential fifth book, and so thought there was more space for the plot to develop in.

Well, Reader and Raelynx, the fourth book, proved me wrong. It does wrap up the arc begun in the first book, and it does include a war. Overall, I found its answers and resolutions satisfying, particularly the mythic aspects of the final confrontation. One or two of the scenes strained my suspension of disbelief, and I’m not sure I like the very end; but on the whole I found it very good comfort reading. I should note, however, that something about these books nearly mutes my critical facilities; I don’t know whether that’s cause or effect, but readers should take these comments with a grain of salt.

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Wilks, Eileen: (02) Mortal Danger

After reading Eileen Wilks’ Mortal Danger, the sequel to Tempting Danger, I’m doing something unprecedented on this booklog and moving the series out of the category where it’s shelved in bookstores. Yes, if you’re looking for these, you’ll have to go into the romance section, but with this book the series moves firmly into fantasy territory, and continuing to call it a romance would create incorrect reader expectations.

(I realize the covers have, as Chad said, girl cooties all over them. Nevertheless: not a romance novel.)

Thanks to loose ends from the last book, Lily Yu finds herself the victim of a puzzling demonic attack. This kicks off a fantasy/adventure plot which moves along nicely and allows additional worldbuilding, including more about the lupi’s culture and an interestingly different Dis. I don’t think I’ll be putting these on any best-of lists, but they’re competently entertaining and if you’re in the mood for something urban or paranormal, you could do far worse than to give them a try.

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