Brockmann, Suzanne: (11) Force of Nature

My Suzanne Brockmann binge is over for the moment with Force of Nature, the most recent hardcover in her Troubleshooters series and the reason I went on this binge in the first place. (Well, okay, one of the reasons. The other is the sequel, which will be out at the end of the month.) More specifically, I wanted to read Force of Nature because it moves forward the romantic arc of one of my favorite characters, FBI agent Jules Cassidy. Who is gay, making this not exactly standard fare in the romantic suspense subgenre.

That arc is braided into two others: a suspense plot involving a mobster who may have terrorist ties, and a romance between characters who unwillingly get involved with the mobster. These are basically fine, though I have nitpicks about both. (A suspense subplot is dropped rather abruptly, and one of the romance conflicts drops out of the sky, instead of being present in the character’s point-of-view throughout as it should.) Oh, and the whole “resolving romantic conflicts upon thinking you are going to die/the other person is dead” thing, while a natural fit for romantic suspense, is getting a bit repetitive.

I was pleasantly surprised that this book didn’t have any show-stopping speeches about tolerance or other such Important Messages; it’s not shy about taking positions on such matters, but seems to integrate them somewhat better into the flow of the story. And despite my quibbles, the book has good forward momentum and is a fun read. But in the end, I have to admit that I might very well read about Jules doing his laundry or reading the paper, so I’m not really objective.

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Brockmann, Suzanne: (08-09) Hot Target; Breaking Point

More catching up with Suzanne Brockmann’s Troubleshooters series. I don’t have much to add to my initial comments about Hot Target, except that I was more interested in the principal relationship thread this time around. It’s still not as engaging as Jules’ secondary thread, but I didn’t want to skip over it.

Oh, and it does contain most of the characters introduced in Flashpoint, but in a low-key enough way that I’d completely forgotten them in the interim.

The next book in the series, Breaking Point, is new to me. It’s similar to Gone Too Far in that it’s the culmination of a long-running relationship arc that I ended up enjoying more than I expected. Yes, Max and Gina are angst puppets, but I like Max a lot more than Sam. And while his issues are the obstacle to their relationship, they are revealed to be more complex than his inability to get past her rape.

The external plot seems rather elaborate and did not really come in focus for me, but possibly this is because it’s mostly about another set of characters, Molly and Grady, who I’m indifferent to. However, it serves the purpose of pushing forward the relationships—including the friendship of Jules and Max, which I particularly enjoyed seeing.

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Willis, Connie: To Say Nothing of the Dog (audio)

Connie Willis’s To Say Nothing of the Dog is a time-travel novel that pays tribute to, while gently poking fun at, Three Men in a Boat and Golden Age mysteries (Christie & Sayers particularly). I listened to the audiobook read by Steven Crossley.

This book is a good example of why genre is important. The time travel in the beginning reminded me vaguely of Kage Baker’s Company series, and so I was expecting something sinister to be lurking the background—especially with the airy, implausible assertion that there was no profit in time travel because material objects couldn’t be brought out of their own times, and so it was left to the academics. (The Company’s strategy for exploiting the past, hiding away artifacts lost to history and then “rediscovering” them, would work just fine.) However, this is a comedy, so nothing sinister’s to be seen.

Instead, To Say Nothing of the Dog is a long, amusing wander through Victorian England from the point of view of Ned Henry, a seriously time-lagged 21st-century Oxford historian who boats down the Thames with two men and a bulldog, and winds up at a country house trying to identify a mysterious Mr. C—in service of a mission that he can’t remember, but that may be vital to the outcome of World War II or, perhaps, to the preservation of the time-space continuum. At points I thought it might be a little too long for listening. For one thing, I figured out Ned’s mission well before he did; for another, the whole book is almost 21 hours, which is on the long side no matter what’s happening. However, the narrator does a nice job, and listening means I’m more likely to notice the jokes.

Time travel stories tend not to be my thing: either they make my head hurt or they take a view of the universe I don’t care for. I could take or leave the time-travel plot here. However, I adore the conclusion of the country-house plot—I laughed and laughed when it was revealed—and that made the whole book worthwhile, for me.

(A couple other minor infelicities about the audio version: every time the title is worked into the narration, it really stands out, and sometimes it feels forced. Also, I was deeply disappointed to find that “placet” is pronounced with an audible “t”; I didn’t take Latin and was mentally pronouncing it as though it were French, which sounds much more suited to romance. Not that this last is the book’s fault, of course.)

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Brockmann, Suzanne: (07) Flashpoint

Flashpoint starts a new arc in Suzanne Brockmann’s Troubleshooters series, focusing on all-new characters and the new civilian team created as a result of the prior two books. It has no World War II content whatsoever and is substantially shorter than its immediate predecessors. After an earthquake in an Afghanistan-analogue, a covert five-person team heads in to recover a MacGuffin. Two of them, Tess and Nash, are forced to pretend to be married, and of course they just happen to have unresolved relationship issues. Meanwhile, they cross paths with another new character, Sofia, who is escaping from sexual torture at the hands of the local warlord.

Oracne and I were just discussing, in comments to the Into the Storm post, the allocation of Giant Angst between the men and women in this series, and this book definitely felt to me like the men had a disproportionate share. In the principal relationship thread, it seems like Tess’s role is basically to stand around while Nash wrestles with his Giant Angst. I didn’t find this thread satisfactory, and then I realized at least one reason why: it isn’t complete. There’s absolutely no way to tell that from this book—which is another problem—but some unresolved problem is hinted at in Into the Storm, which I hadn’t registered at the time because I didn’t know the characters.

Sophia also strikes me as problematic in terms of Giant Angst, though partly I’m judging her by (1) her appearance in Into the Storm and (2) her functional resemblance to Gina Vitagliano, another character with a long arc that started in traumatic sexual violence. Sophia is brave and tough and manages to rescue herself pretty well in this book. However, what I’ve seen of both her and Gina’s subsequent arcs—and I haven’t completed them—strike me as taking their Giant Angst, of trauma to be overcome, and making it instead their would-be lovers’ Giant Angst, as an obstacle that they can’t get past even though the women already have. And I am uncomfortable with this shift, together with the extended focus on the trauma.

As I said, though, I haven’t finished either of these arcs—indeed, Sophia’s arc isn’t finished yet—so perhaps my concerns will be addressed. However, it was another thing about this book that left me feeling mildly grumpy. But even though Brockmann’s relationships are hit-or-miss for me, I still want to find out what happens next . . .

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Novik, Naomi: (04) Empire of Ivory

Empire of Ivory is the fourth book in Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series and pretty much like the first three in its strengths and weaknesses. I enjoyed it greatly and can’t wait to see what happens in the fifth book, due next summer.

To start with a weakness, there’s pacing, specifically a slow start. By the end of chapter one at the latest, it’s obvious that the characters are going to Africa (I knew it upon reading the sample chapter included with the third book, last June; and it says so outright on the back cover), but it takes another hundred pages for the characters to realize it, though not too many more to get there. I can see the reason for most of the events in these first chapters, but still wish they passed more quickly.

I love the book after it gets to Africa, though, particularly for the chance to see another society’s interactions with dragons. The more alternate the history gets, the happier it makes me: it’s so much fun to see the ramifications played out—especially given Europe’s not-very-alternate status at the start [*]—and especially these ramifications.

[*] Novik talks about the reasons for this halfway through a Strange Horizons interview.

It’s not just worldbuilding, of course; there are exciting bits and wonderful dragons and the continued challenging of Laurence’s default social beliefs. And a dog, briefly:

Laurence had learnt the art of carrying livestock aboard a dragon from Tharkay, in the East, by drugging the beasts with opium before they were loaded on, but they had none of the drug with them at present, so with a dubious spirit of experimentation they put the whining dog aboard by main force instead, and strapped it down. It was inclined to squirm and struggle against the makeshift harness, making several abortive attempts to leap off into the air, until Temeraire lifted away; then after a few yelps of excitement, it sat down on its haunches with its mouth open and tongue lolling out, thrashing its tail furiously with delight . . . .

(Not only is this a great image, but dogs are a theme with my reading this month: Making Money, this, and (in-progress) Connie Willis’s To Say Nothing of the Dog.)

I also love the ending, not because it’s a cliffhanger but because of the characterization leading up to it and the possibilities for resolving it.

Speaking of characterization, I think the book’s other principal weakness is the characterization of the supporting human characters. The minor ones are sufficiently flat that I have trouble matching names to functions; and even the ones whose names I remember, I couldn’t give more than a couple of adjectives apiece for. It’s not just that British humans in the early 1800s, even aviators, were relatively restrained—though that relative restraint is one of the reasons that the dragons seem so vivid. Instead, I think this is a result of Laurence’s point-of-view, which makes me wonder what the series might look like in Patrick O’Brian-style omniscient. (As much as I enjoyed Temeraire’s point-of-view in “Feast or Famine”, it wouldn’t be an improvement in this regard.)

A spoiler post follows.

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Brockmann, Suzanne: (05-06) Into the Night; Gone Too Far

After reading Into the Storm, I discovered that Suzanne Brockmann’s current and forthcoming books feature one of my favorite characters. This gave me the motivation to start catching up on the rest of the series.

Actually I’d read Into the Night, the next un-logged book, some months ago. However, it seemed to be closely linked to the following book, Gone Too Far, and so I thought I’d wait to log them together. Except that I wasn’t impressed by Into the Night, or looking forward to Gone Too Far, so they languished, neglected.

I wasn’t impressed by Into the Night for a couple of reasons. First, the book felt over-stuffed: it had a principal relationship thread, a WWII thread, a secondary thread involving several relationships, and a terrorist plot that extended into the next book. Second, the characters in the principal relationship thread didn’t click for me. Instead of finding Mike Muldoon multi-faceted and sympathic, I felt as though he were a character designed to prove a point: look, men can dislike being treated as sexual objects, too! And Joan DaCosta’s humor came across in text as brittle instead of self-deprecating. It’s possible that they would have read differently to me on a re-read, but the idea felt like homework, and I did enough of that this summer thanks to Worldcon.

Instead, I went to Gone Too Far, which I had been reluctant to read. Not only was it was another thick book which I expected to be overstuffed, but it focused on Sam Starrett and Alyssa Locke. I disliked Sam upon his introduction in the first Troubleshooters book, and hadn’t really warmed up to him in the intervening books. And I was tired of Sam and Alyssa’s angst-puppets status.

This turned out to be more enjoyable than I expected. The WWII material is pushed far to the background; in its place is Sam’s backstory. While I thought making him an abused child was a cheap way to give him depth and make him sympathetic, his present-day growth means that he no longer grates on my nerves. Further, I’d expected the development of Sam and Alyssa’s relationship to be rather perfunctory, since it had stalled for external reasons only; but there was a satisfactory progression between the two of them as well. And I liked the material than spans the two books, the terrorist plot and the redemption of Mary Lou. It’s still quite a long book, but I didn’t feel it dragged as its predecessor did.

The next book focuses on new characters, which would be good except I’m pretty sure they include yet another set of angst puppets who featured heavily in Into the Storm. Oh well, at least it’s shorter.

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Crusie, Jennifer, Eileen Dreyer, and Anne Stuart: The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes

The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes is a collaborative novel by Jennifer Crusie, Eileen Dreyer, and Anne Stuart (not, as one reviewer claimed, a collection of novellas). Dee, Lizzie, and Mare Fortune are sisters with hereditary magical abilities, who have been running from their wicked aunt since they were teenagers. Now their wicked aunt has found them and, as part of a plot to steal their magical abilities, has drawn their True Loves to town. (This does, actually, make sense when not summarized in a single sentence.)

I read a free review copy of this while on vacation in the U.S. Virgin Islands, and it was terrific summer vacation reading. Unfortunately I didn’t have time to review it properly before going off to Japan, and had to re-read it just now—so I can report that it is also good post-summer, post-vacation reading.

I spotted Crusie’s thread in the novel, that of Mare, right away: it is the only one with more than two characters in it. I can’t say I recognized Dreyer’s (Dee), but I used to read her work under the name Kathleen Korbel and so wasn’t surprised that it was pretty good. I’ve never read Stuart’s work, and I found her thread by far the weakest: I thought that it lacked tension and that Lizzie’s True Love was an overbearing jerk. As a result, when their eyes changed to matching colors to signify their True Love, I rolled my eyes and turned the page quickly.

Somewhat like Bet Me, this book requires accepting its central proposition—here, that True Love exists and can be recognized in the space of a weekend—for it to work at all. Neither of those are my favorite things in a romance novel, but the women—the sisters, their relationships, and their wicked aunt—ended up feeling like the center of this book for me anyway, not the romances. (Though the humor and characterization didn’t make suspending my disbelief too hard, except as already mentioned.)

As for the collaborative nature of this book, I didn’t find the styles jarring or the threads overly-repetitive, though I realize these are very YMMV things. I thought that the ending had one development too many, which may or may not be a result of the collaboration, and that the weird little town could have had its weirdness developed a little more, which is probably a result of fitting three romances and one fantasy plot into a single mass-market paperback. Overall, though, this was another good vacation/post-vacation book.

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Brockmann, Suzanne: (10) Into the Storm

Suzanne Brockmann’s Into the Storm is the tenth book in her Troubleshooters series and the most recent paperback. It jumped the queue thanks to Oracne’s LiveJournal post discussing its treatment of race and gender.

As much as I appreciated the existence of Lindsey, a main character of Japanese descent who hates being stereotyped, I thought her big speech on the topic had distracting “This Is A Message” signs flashing all over it. But then, this is a known issue; I had the same reaction to a big speech against homophobia in Hot Target. I certainly agree with Brockmann and don’t doubt her sincerity, I just find these little speeches jarring. They do, however, pass quickly.

My larger problem with this book was Lindsey’s emotional problems, which drive the relationship-related plot. (A serial killer drives the suspense-related plot.) They come up so fast and with such little buildup, that at first I thought the other main character, Mark, was being an overly-confident jerk for telling her that she had such problems. Nope, not the case. And it bugged me a bit that the conflicts weren’t more balanced, that there wasn’t more focusing on Mark.

But I like Lindsey and Mark, so the relationship-related plot isn’t a total loss. And the serial killer plot is creepy and effective, if perhaps slightly over-the-top, and does a nice job of developing a new character and expanding an existing supporting character. Post-vacation, I’ve been looking for fairly light yet absorbing books, and even with my quibbles, this fit the bill well.

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Pratchett, Terry: (36) Making Money

Terry Pratchett’s Making Money is a sequel to Going Postal. Having gotten the Post Office working smoothly, Moist von Lipwig is going crazy with boredom. Nevertheless, he’s turned down Lord Vetinari’s offer to run the Royal Bank, when external events force him to take it—much to the displeasure of the family who owns 49% of the Bank, and is one life away from owning it all . . .

On one hand, this was perfect for a train ride home after the culmination of an exhausting couple of weeks. It has a dog, some good improvisational moments from Moist, and a number of sentence-level jokes that made me smile. On the other, it felt kind of empty in the middle. It reminds me a bit of recent Dortmunder novels: not much happens, but in an competent and entertaining way. Except that Going Postal was so packed with happenings that this book suffers in comparison.

Also, Harper should be ashamed of itself for once again publishing a Discworld book in which the number one (1) is substituted for a capital letter i (I) and so forth.

Finally, a spoilerly remark (ROT13; see sidebar): qbrf nalbar ryfr guvax zbvfg jvyy raq hc cngevpvna?

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