Gilman, Laura Anne: (02) Curse the Dark

Laura Anne Gilman’s Curse the Dark is the less-strong sequel to Staying Dead. There’s either too much or too little information in the space available, and while I can’t quite tell which, the overall effect is unfortunate.

Curse the Dark is made up of three different strands. First, a parchment’s gone missing from an Italian monastery: everyone who’s read it has disappeared, so it’s obviously not the kind of thing that should be unaccounted for. Wren and Sergei are hired to retrieve it by the Silence, Sergei’s ex-employer, a secretive organization of do-gooders. Second, there’s Wren and Sergei’s relationship, which got kicked past “partnership” mode in the last book, but has since stalled out. Third, there’s politics: intrigue is happening within and/or between the Silence; the Council, which nominally rules the Talented world; the lonejacks, human Talents who don’t acknowledge the Council; the fatae, nonhumans; and possibly some other groups I’m forgetting.

It’s only a third of the book, Wren and Sergei’s relationship, that I think fully works. Retrieving the parchment is mostly okay, though it seems somewhat rushed at the end. Also, perhaps I’m just thick, but I can’t quite tell to what extent it’s related to the final part of the book, the politics.

It’s the political intrigue that was the biggest problem for me. Either there wasn’t room to explain what-all was going on, or that information is being kept for a later book (the epilogue has me leaning in this direction), or both—but when a major player unexpectedly walks into a meeting of some of these groups, stays for two hours and seven minutes, and we’re never told what the player said, well, something’s seriously off-balance. Just as a for-instance. And this reader gets annoyed.

I’ll read the third one (Bring It On, due in July), because I like Wren and Sergei a lot, but I really hope it’s structured more like a complete book than this one was.

No Comments

Christie, Agatha: After the Funeral (radio play)

When I started listening to Agatha Christie’s After the Funeral, a Hercule Poirot story, I thought perhaps the BBC was experimenting with in medias res. Well, I was starting in the middle, but because the files had been mislabeled, not because of a clever dramatic technique. Once I realized that, things went a lot more smoothly.

As the title suggests, the opening of this book is after a funeral: Richard Abernethie appears to have died a normal death, but at the reading of the will, his sister Cora asks, “but he was murdered, wasn’t he?” Everyone shrugs it off, but when she turns up quite unmistakably murdered, Hercule Poirot is asked to investigate.

Listened to in the right order, this was not bad. I could see the shape of the solution before it was revealed, though the solution itself is a bit implausible. I think the portrayal was fair within the confines of the presentation, however, which has not always been the case with these adaptations.

No Comments

Jerome, Jerome K.: Three Men in a Boat (audio)

I’d read Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat (text at Project Gutenberg) some time ago; I have a hazy memory of a lazy weekend morning at one of Chad’s apartments, possibly the one in New Haven. If anything, my memory of where I read it was sharper than of what I read; before getting the audiobook out of the library, I couldn’t tell you a thing about it except that it was about a boat trip with three young men and a dog (who I didn’t fully realize was a dog until chapter 2).

Martin Jarvis does a very nice job of reading this, but I can’t recommend it as a keep-awake audiobook: Three Men in a Boat isn’t so much a narrative as an excuse for anecdote. A sentence will be spoken, or a place will be seen, and then one of the characters (most likely the narrator) will be reminded of something they did once, or something that happened to a friend, or a historical event that happened there . . . This is all very amusing in a Britishly deadpan way, but not what you’d call gripping:

As an example of how utterly oblivious a pair of towers can be to their work, George told us, later on in the evening, when we were discussing the subject after supper, of a very curious instance.

He and three other men, so he said, were sculling a very heavily laden boat up from Maidenhead one evening, and a little above Cookham lock they noticed a fellow and a girl, walking along the towpath, both deep in an apparently interesting and absorbing conversation. They were carrying a boat-hook between them, and, attached to the boat-hook was a tow-line, which trailed behind them, its end in the water. No boat was near, no boat was in sight. There must have been a boat attached to that tow-line at some time or other, that was certain; but what had become of it, what ghastly fate had overtaken it, and those who had been left in it, was buried in mystery. Whatever the accident may have been, however, it had in no way disturbed the young lady and gentleman, who were towing. They had the boat-hook and they had the line, and that seemed to be all that they thought necessary to their work.

George was about to call out and wake them up, but, at that moment, a bright idea flashed across him, and he didn’t. He got the hitcher instead, and reached over, and drew in the end of the tow-line; and they made a loop in it, and put it over their mast, and then they tidied up the sculls, and went and sat down in the stern, and lit their pipes.

And that young man and young woman towed those four hulking chaps and a heavy boat up to Marlow.

George said he never saw so much thoughtful sadness concentrated into one glance before, as when, at the lock, that young couple grasped the idea that, for the last two miles, they had been towing the wrong boat. George fancied that, if it had not been for the restraining influence of the sweet woman at his side, the young man might have given way to violent language.

The maiden was the first to recover from her surprise, and, when she did, she clasped her hands, and said, wildly:

“Oh, Henry, then WHERE is auntie?”

“Did they ever recover the old lady?” asked Harris.

George replied he did not know.

(There is an unexpectedly serious interlude toward the end, which shift of tone Jarvis handles very well.)

What I’d really like to know, having listened to this, is how the towpath worked. I can’t quite imagine how you’d make progress by tying a boat to a long rope and walking on a riverside path, but that seemed to be what was being described.

3 Comments

O’Brian, Patrick: Golden Ocean, The

Patrick O’Brian’s The Golden Ocean is an earlier work than his Aubrey-Maturin series, both in terms of when it was written and when it’s set. It tells the tale of Commodore Anson’s circumnavigation of the globe in the 1740s, from the perspective of Peter Palafox, an Irish midshipman on his first sea voyage.

Of course the inevitable comparison is to the Aubrey-Maturin books—indeed, I doubt this book would have an American publication without them. For reasons of personal taste, I cannot agree with the back cover copy of the library’s trade paperback edition, which asserts The Golden Ocean to be “as captivating” as the later series. I like the Aubrey-Maturin books for their balance of amazing goings-on at sea and character development. The Golden Ocean has plenty of amazing goings-on—so many that it doesn’t have room for the depth of character development. More, the foregrounded character is very young, and while it’s nice to see him grow up, there’s nothing particularly distinguishing about the way he does it.

In the details of life on board, the humor, and the admirable leadership, this is quite recognizable as a precursor to the Aubrey-Maturin series. It’s also a perfectly enjoyable read in its own right. But it’s Aubrey-Maturin Lite rather than the real thing.

2 Comments

Christie, Agatha: Murder at the Vicarage (radio play, text)

Agatha Christie radio plays are well-suited for car trips to Massachusetts; I listened to Murder on the Orient Express on the way there, and to Murder at the Vicarage on the way back. This was the first Miss Marple novel: a shooting death next door provides her with an opportunity to test her puzzle-solving intuitions on a big mystery.

The tale is moderately complicated, and perhaps it was a mistake to leave it, the unfamiliar one of the two plays, for the return trip when I was more tired. At any rate, I had to check the text out of the library before I fully understood the chain of reasoning in one area. (Having done so, mind, I’m not particularly impressed with the construction of the mystery; but that’s easy enough to say in retrospect, because I certainly didn’t spot it at the time.) In the middle ranks of the adaptations so far, I’d say.

No Comments

Christie, Agatha: Murder on the Orient Express (radio play)

Another BBC adaptation of an Agatha Christie novel, this time Murder on the Orient Express (via my local library, which had it on CD). You can call this contrived all you like (as I recall, Randall Garrett does, through one of his Lord Darcy mysteries), but its core concept does have an emotional punch, perhaps all the more so for listening to it. If nothing else, hearing the various accents made it easier to keep the many characters straight. (For a change, the American accents were good enough to not be overly distracting, though at least the principal American character (Mrs. Hubbard) was played by a British actress (Sylvia Syms).) This is well-suited to audio drama.

No Comments

O’Brian, Patrick: (08) The Ionian Mission (audio)

The Ionian Mission, by Patrick O’Brian, appears to be (or open) a new phase in the Aubrey-Maturin series. Back from their long travels of Desolation Island, The Fortune of War, and The Surgeon’s Mate, Jack and Stephen are sent to the Mediterranean for blockade duty. This struck me as a quieter installment; most of it is a low-level tense-yet-bleh, and then the action jumps up toward the end with the titular mission.

We get quite a lot of shipboard life in this one, and slightly more Jack than Stephen, I would say. Jack has a terrible cold for part of the book, and I quite sympathize with his feeling unfit for company or pretty much anything else.

I’m going to close this with a passage (behind the cut) that had me grinning fit to split my face; it’s from roughly halfway through, but doesn’t spoil anything of note. It may lose something when not read by Patrick Tull, but I can’t resist sharing it all the same.

Continue reading “O’Brian, Patrick: (08) The Ionian Mission (audio)”

No Comments

Davis, Lindsey: (04) The Iron Hand of Mars

I very nearly didn’t bother with The Iron Hand of Mars, the fourth book in Lindsey Davis’s series about Marcus Didius Falco. I started reading it when I only had a short chunk of time, and in that time Marcus was more of an ass than usual, and the stage was set for a lot of Germanic political manuvering. Grr and yawn, respectively. But the book has to go back to the library, so I gave it a shot today.

I think I’ve identified why I’m far less interested in the political volumes of this series. First, they feel like a tone-content mismatch; Falco’s a first-person private eye, and I think he fits better in local investigations, or at least things that start out as local investigations, than in semi-diplomatic problem-solving missions for the Emperor. Second, they tend to take Falco on journeys all over the Empire, usually with great woodges of history as backstory, which all has a faint but discernable whiff of “I’ve suffered for my research and now you must too.” Which is odd, because in another series the trips would be an interesting bonus; I think it goes back to trouble believing that Vespasian would tap Falco for these kinds of errands.

Particularly this errand: the political stuff of the first two books, Falco got drawn into inadvertently and then stayed on to limit the number of people who knew about it. But I have a hard time believing that Vespasian would think Falco the best person to tactfully check up on the management of a legion that hates his former legion, let alone deal with a missing legate, a local prophetess, and a rebel leader. (Yes, I know that it is suggested that there are other considerations behind Vespasian’s choice, but I don’t think he’d let that influence him into an unsuitable decision.)

Anyway, having offended Helena Justina, Falco agrees to take this ridiculous mission because he hopes he might find her in Germany visiting her younger brother (a nice boy). The plot’s not so much a mystery as a road trip; he wanders around looking for various people, stuff happens, there is insufficient Helena Justina, and Kate skims a lot.

I’m not sure there’s anything objectively wrong with this book; it’s just not to my taste.

No Comments

Novik, Naomi: (02) Throne of Jade

Naomi Novik’s Throne of Jade is the second book in the Temeraire series, begun with His Majesty’s Dragon. It is not a direct sequel, but addresses the conflict raised by the end of the first book: Temeraire is from a very rare and important breed of Chinese dragons, and the Chinese Empire is gravely offended at his military service and his attachment to a lowly aviator. Temeraire and Laurence are forced to make the long journey to China, along with a diplomatic envoy who is much more concerned with ensuring Chinese neutrality (at the least) than with Temeraire and Laurence’s happiness.

Though clearly signaled by the end of the last book, the story stands alone quite well. Indeed, I think in some ways it is superior to the first book. It’s more exciting, for one: between Laurence and Temeraire having finished training, and the perils of the sea voyage, there’s significantly more action. When there isn’t physical danger, there’s Laurence’s constant worry that he and Temeraire will be separated, either by force or by Temeraire’s choice.

That leads directly to the other superior thing: China is a society drastically different because of the presence of dragons. England doesn’t have the resources to support many dragons or many different species of dragons, but China, which does, domesticated dragons a thousand years earlier: and its treatment of dragons is fascinating indeed. Those who complained that the history was insufficiently alternate should enjoy this one, whether or not they are retroactively convinced by the progress of history in England.

I thought the denouement felt a trifle hasty or thin, but on reflection I think this is largely attributable to the limits of Laurence’s point-of-view. And the world-building here, and the possibilities set up for further down the road, are most intriguing. I wouldn’t recommend skipping the first, but if you liked the first at all, definitely grab this one.

No Comments