Shards of Delirium

Tag: fantasy

  • The Amber Spyglass

    All things considered, I’d rather live in the parallel universe where Philip Pullman wrote a better conclusion to his fairly nifty parallel universe trilogy, His Dark Materials.

    I suppose I’m obligated to say more.

    So, despite my continued enjoyment of the main characters and their struggles, most of what’s left went way, way downhill at the end. The Church badness got more cartoonish than ever. The climactic battle was barely a battle and in no way climactic (although it did have a satisfying Cost associated with it). Dangers to the characters were consistently resolved in deus ex machina ways, which is incredibly ironic in this particular plot. Several interesting things happened, but seemed to be only tenuously related to the previous two books of storyline. And even now, I have no clear idea who He is, nor what His Dark Materials are, or whether I should be concerned about them, happy, or something else entirely.

    Could some of this be my problem and not the author’s? Sure, I suppose it could be. But I like my odds. I’m inclined to say that two books were squashed into one to achieve trilogy status. Which I suppose is a nice change from one book being extended to three, but ultimately, the reader suffers either way. One book in one book’s worth of pages, please.

    I did like the titular amber spyglass and in fact the entire storyline associated with it. Except for the part at the end, where Lyra is supposed to be tempted like Eve was. I think I can cobble together a pretty good explanation of the temptation, the choice, the outcome, and all that, but I disapprove of the fact that it didn’t play out the way it was prophesied to earlier in the book, because it left me thinking that the point of the whole series had never actually occurred. There I was, waiting for event X, and event Y happens instead, the book ends, and I have to spend the next day or so working out that, no, that really was what he meant, he just forgot to write the part where it was in any way related to the characters I had been promised would be involved.

    Looking up, I feel like I ought to include spoiler protection, except that if it never happened, how can it be a spoiler? And also except for the fact that the above is a jumbled, barely literate mish-mash of words that mean essentially nothing, and will probably even confuse people who have read the book, much less people who haven’t. If it helps any, this matches my own state of mind when I passed the climactic chapter and reached end-story land. Without the story, y’know, ending.

    (Also, I was not particularly satisfied with how the story did end, but that is not the fault of the author and so falls outside the boundaries of this particular review. I can easily see how it could be satisfying to people who are not me.)

  • Kushiel’s Avatar

    One of the unfortunate things I’ve run into while doing this is just how many series of books I’m in the middle of. It seems like every other book I review, I have to go back and review the rest of the series, too. It’s not like I can assume that just because I’ve read the earlier books, everyone has (although I only do this with the first book I review of a series, which implies I assume that any reader is intimately familiar with the contents of my endeavour here, and what does that say about me?), and so I have to review the series at the same time as the book. (Note to authors: this is not a valid excuse to recap your entire series in the process of writing each new book. Assume we’ve read the earlier ones. Please.) Still, the number of series I’m in the middle of with no review yet is shrinking, so that’s nice.

    Case in point: I’ve just finished the Kushiel’s Legacy series. Set against the backdrop of a medieval-era Europe-that-might-have-been, Phèdre, unwanted whore’s get (as she’ll tell you herself, early and often), has learned well the arts of covertcy and love as well as many languages, she has faced down the military invasion of her homeland and machinations to steal its throne, she has found love coupled with understanding, and is now ready to set out on her greatest adventure: to prevent a horror from sweeping across her world, at the behest of Kushiel, God’s angel of punishment who has marked her as his own to experience pain as pleasure, and to learn the Name of God in order to save her oldest friend from a fate worse than death. (You may be thinking to yourself, wow, that’s quite a sentence there, chump. I make no apologies. Onward!)

    As usual, the bare plot of Kushiel’s Avatar is romance novel simple, but what Jacqueline Carey fills it with is sheer delight. A protagonist with a compelling voice, intrigues galore, a map full of new places to visit, and a cast of interesting characters. Sure, the travelogue has been done before, and really a lot, but as long as you don’t hate it just for the sake of itself, this is one of the good ones.

    Contrary to previous episodes, the sex felt a little more frequent and graphic. At times unnecessarily so, which had not previously happened. The plot, though simple, is a little bit overlarge. I felt like there were two books in there, each a bit too small to work for the publisher in these days of doorstop publishing, but the total a little large to be contained in one story. Still, it was entertaining, just not quite as tight as the previous two books.

    To her credit, Carey has kept each story self-contained, which goes a long way to forgiving books of that size. Self-contained, yes, but with excellent hooks between novels. As such, the hooks at the end of this volume left me with intrigued questions. Whether there’s not ever another book and the answers are up to me, or whether another book of Phèdre’s exploits will be coming along in a few years, or whether (this is my personal bet) another book set in the same world with a new protagonist will be coming along in a few years: however it turns out, I’m satisfied with both the ending and the questions. That’s a rare treat. (Well, it used to be, but I’m reading better books these days. In any case, it’s a rare treat among the vast majority of stories that get published.)

  • Naked Empire

    61jwmR8eIHLAs with all people, sometimes I do things that I find embarrassing, and wouldn’t really want other people to know about. I collect Misty Mundae DVDs. I have Scooby Doo boxers. I watch Joey on NBC. Worse by far than all of these (although not my blackest secret, either), I read Terry Goodkind’s Sword of Truth series.

    Yes. Still.

    This I could have carried to my grave, I think, except that now I review things I read. It’s a problem, but not one that I could get around and be fair to you, my faithful reader. So, yeah. Now I have to talk about it, and feel even worse about myself. Because reading it analytically, it’s worse than when I would just read it because a new one was out, and that was already aggravating.

    Sure, the first book has the ‘Let’s ban fire!’ thing, which bothers me far more now than it did when I first read it. And then the next three or so seemed like cheap Wheel of Time knockoffs. But now that the Wheel of Time is no longer particularly copyable, he’s led the reader along toward an even worse fate, the objectivist screed.

    It’s not that I dismiss Ayn Rand out of hand, or even disagree with a lot of what she had to say. It’s more that Goodkind presents the arguments as though it is not possible to have a reasonable disagreement about some of the points, some of the time. And of course, since he’s writing both sides of the argument, it’s easy for him to get away with. But I could forgive him that, I think, if it wasn’t for the screed part. Because, and I sincerely believe this to be true, fully half of the 725 page story revolved around Richard Rahl – our intrepid hero who carries the Sword of Truth (and therefore is named the Seeker of Truth, which makes him the best argument from authority fallacy on two legs ever) and wields both halves of a magical gift that nobody else has been born with for three thousand years, and is the sole line of defense for the people of the world according to prophecy, and to the people of his empire literally (but only as long as they make the proper devotions to him (and yes, yes I am feeling worse about myself the further into this I go)) – going off on pages-long diatribes explaining to people why it’s wrong to oppose the war in Iraq, and why it is not only right but morally necessary to kill anyone who actively stands in the way of having it accomplished.

    Sure, he talked about fictional enemies that fit into the world of his story, but he didn’t really use different words, and even if the author will claim the subtext isn’t there, this is one of those times where what the author thinks doesn’t really have much bearing on the reality.

    I got sidetracked. Anyway, my point is, half the book: swords and sorcery and the incremental advancement of the main plot of the series, plus the fully realized sub-plot that is the main plot of the novel. So he has that going for him, the stand-alone accomplishment. Which Mr. Jordan is welcome to plagiarize at any time now, really. The other half of the book: lectures on objectivism and how it relates to real-world morality.

    It was every bit as fun as it sounds. The worst part is, I still want to find out how the main sequence story ends. I have no self-control when it comes to following a story from start to finish. (Like I said, I watch Joey.)

  • Tigana

    Wow. Good book.

    It’s got the standard high fantasy tropes. Sorcery, swords, a desperate band of friends trying to save the day, multiple lands to travel to, love and betrayal. It also has things that are rare, though. For one, a southern hemisphere setting, which makes it, so far as I can remember, only the second genre book I’ve read that did so. And the most terrible vengeance visited upon a perceived wrong that I’ve ever heard of, or can really imagine. The beauty part is that this vengeance is the driving force behind the book’s action.

    It also has Guy Gavriel Kay as an author. I read his Fionavar Tapestry in high school or so. I remember liking it, but also finding it annoying. I can’t really remember why right now, and I think it would benefit from an adult reread. In any case, Tigana is the second thing of his I’ve ever read. I’ve heard many times what a good prose writer he is, stylistically, lyrically, or however you might put it. His words flow beautifully from the page. And for about the first two thirds of the book, I was figuring that either it was all hype, or it was something that just wasn’t clicking for me.

    But there at the end, as all the plot elements came together, so did Kay’s voice. I’m not sure how to describe it, but the hype is true. That man knows how to string words together just so, to yank you forcibly into whatever moment he has put together just then.

    Another true thing that I’ve heard about this book: Well, I hesitate to put this in here, because I thought I was remembering right about this book, and I kept glancing at the back despite my best efforts, but I never took in the whole thing at once and the ending of it seemed innocuous, so I never spoiled myself or was even sure I had the right book until I got there in truth. But, I will anyway, as this is already one of the longer paragraphs just with me debating internally, and it would be lame to leave it void of content after all that. Anyhow. You’ll be a much happier reader if you avoid the final sentence of the book. Seriously. Excellent writer, pretty good author, but make no mistake. He’s also a right bastard.

    My ultimate point: Read this, now. It’s on my list of recommendations, if I was sending out the email that got this site started.

  • Shatterpoint

    I’ve had lots of real books lately, but being as this was an airport weekend, I snagged a Star Wars book I bought on a whim at Hastings a few weeks ago. I haven’t read any of these since the New Jedi Order series concluded early in the year, I don’t guess.

    Anyhow, this one is set in the Clone Wars, several months after the battle of Geonosis. It’s all about Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson, for you casual fans, of which there surely must be very few these days) on a quest to find out why his fellow Jedi Council member and former Padawan has apparently gone rogue and is committing atrocities.

    The actual plot of Shatterpoint is irrelevant. Honest. There are lightsabers, fights against overwhelming odds, bad feelings, and pretty much everything else that has the Star Wars stamp on it. The main purpose the book serves is to give you yet another window on what being a Jedi was, back in the Republic, and why the Clone Wars were ultimately their demise as a society. Which is to say, rabid fans will eat it up, and casual fans won’t care enough to get past the label.

    Also, of course, it serves the ever-widening purpose of making fans rabid and casual alike resent George Lucas for being among the least capable writers in the Star Wars universe. I shouldn’t need a book to tell me in an oblique hint exactly why Palpatine’s plan was essentially unstoppable from start to finish, even while Lucas’ cinematic attempts leave me largely grasping at straws.

  • The Subtle Knife

    Back in May, I got up to Recycled Books Records and CDs in Denton with some friends, for extended shopping. Among the things I found was a pretty matched sat of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, young adult fiction that I’ve been hearing was necessary reading for the past two or three years. So, snagged it, and like most things lately, read the first one before I had a log. Last week and into the airplane last weekend, I read the second book of the trilogy, The Subtle Knife.

    Below the cut are spoilers for the series so far. I deem them to be acceptable, but read at your own risk.
    (more…)

  • Equal Rites

    61qUrH54OmLAnother week, another Pratchett. Although I expect that ratio to drop off a bit now. This time, Equal Rites, the story of a young girl trying to make her way in the world as a wizard. Which should be no problem, except for how only men can be wizards. (And suddenly, the title makes all kinds of sense.)

    Here’s the thing. I know these are funny. I’ve read at least three of them, even before this latest spate. And the common knowledge is that ER is substantially better than even The Light Fantastic, but I found that they were mostly equivalent. Well, for the humor value, at least. ER had the better story, but it was a little too obvious for me, I guess.

    Except, that’s not it either, exactly. It was more travelogue than battle of the sexes. So I guess part of my complaint is that it failed to meet expectations, and then once they got to the part I was expecting, it seemed rushed and simple. After a fairly contrived ‘nobody else could have accomplished this!’ moment that seemed to have nothing to do with gender, suddenly girls are allowed. Maybe I just didn’t get it.

    Disclaimer: Still very enjoyable light reading. I think it suffered from inflated expectations more than any other single problem. I’m ready for the series to be as funny as I remember, though, and am starting to fear it’s the age difference. (That part probably shouldn’t have been in the disclaimer, but I’ve been trying to get this written for almost a day, and I’d rather be done than clear or concise.)

  • The Light Fantastic

    5123VpObYZLJust as I predicted, The Light Fantastic removes most of the complaints I had about The Colour of Magic. Despite being published three years apart, it’s clear that these are one book split in half. Which is nice for me; I’d intended to read something else in between, but there was an unfortunate circumstance whereby I got called away on my weekend suddenly and forgot to grab a new book to read. Luckily, tLF was still in my trunk from when I borrowed it, though.

    So, over the past five days, I’ve gone through that at a pretty quick pace. (Quick for me, anyway.) In addition to making up for the abruptness of the previous book, it’s also much more internally coherent and rather a lot more funny as well. Pratchett certainly improved between the two books. Not only that, but the lead characters became less inscrutable (Twoflower) and more likeable (Rincewind). On the whole, then, this was the perfect fluff book to read while hanging about in hospital rooms. I look forward to more of them.

  • The Colour of Magic

    516nJNmb2xLWeird. I’ve read a few Discworld books, mostly in high school, and I’m quite sure that one of them included Rincewind and the Luggage. But it wasn’t this book, and it doesn’t seem to be the next one either. So I’m a little puzzled on that score, but it’s okay. For one thing, this is brand new, completely uninfluenced by my memory, so that’s good, I guess.

    Unfortunately, I can’t really add anything that’s not already been said on the topic. It was amusing, but not nearly as funny as I remember Pratchett being. Rincewind is a barely sympathetic character, the Luggage is more menace than lark, and Twoflower is okay, but he’s written as too mysterious to really get into him.

    The plot was fine, but great sweeping swathes of it were missing for no clear reason and it ended with essentially no resolution. The Light Fantastic appears to be a direct sequel, and perhaps he already knew he was writing it when The Colour of Magic came out, but it was a bit jarring of my expectations since I know that these are traditionally stand-alone.

    Mostly I’ve complained, so I will say that I got the occasional laugh and never regretted the time I was spending reading it. Plus! Now I understand the Tourist from nethack, so that was worth the price of admission.

  • The Dark Tower

    I’m having a tough time with this one. Obviously in part because it’s the last book of a series. Also because it’s (apparently) Stephen King’s last book in general, and I have a lot of respect for the guy.

    Not for the prose. Particularly in The Dark Tower (which is the seventh volume in the series of the same name), and particularly early on in it, some of his verbal tics were starting to be really grating. On the one hand, I have a sense that some part of that is to draw you into the world of Roland of Gilead, but on the other, I have the very strong sense that this kind of thing shouldn’t be necessary to draw the reader in. And for that matter, I doubt it would have been, for me. I’m not sure if the flaw is in King for not trusting his material enough to stand on its own merit or if my theory is wrong and the tics are just there because he enjoys them. At any rate, it was never bad enough to make me want to stop reading, and it eventually either lessened or faded into the background for me.

    Not for the plotting, either, although this book was reasonably well plotted. Certainly some of his books are not, but that hasn’t stopped me reading them, and probably won’t stop me re-reading them. Even when plotted well, he relies on scripted fate to get his characters out of certain situations. This bothers me, sometimes, because deus ex machina is usually pretty lame, even when it’s explicitly laid out. But then, it would have been fairly easy to not put the characters in a situation that required it, and also it helps / hinders the protagonists and antagonists alike. So, I think it might be partial commentary on the idea. Either way, this only has a minor negative (or positive, depending on my frame of mind) impact on my enjoyment.

    No, what keeps me coming back is how good a job he does of presenting the story. He has a distinctive voice, which only helps, but I find it so easy to consider it a story I’m being told, across a fire, say, or in an open amphitheater. It’s comfortable.

    That said, I’ve barely touched on the book itself. And probably I won’t much more, because if you haven’t read the previous books, it’s hard for me to do more than recommend the series, and if you have, I’m pretty sure I won’t be convincing you (or not) to read the last one. What can I say, though?

    There were times when I read it voraciously, and had to slow myself down and enjoy it. There were times when I read it slowly, because I didn’t want to come to what was about to happen. I had horror in my heart, joy lighting my face, and more than once visceral fear (because it always comes back to a spider eventually, doesn’t it?). All because of how well he tells a story, sure, but I’m talking about my reactions to this story, not just to his skill at it.

    The Dark Tower series as a whole weaves a good yarn. Some would say self-indulgent, but I thought if anything that the self-indulgent parts are more likely to be self-flagellant, from the author’s perspective. In any case, yeah, the author continues to appear in his own work in this book as he has in a couple of previous ones, and it still works. I know I wouldn’t believe that if someone were telling me, but it does. The costs and the redemptions are balanced. That is to say, King rarely tells a story where everything works out for the good guys, but this book is not one of his bloodbaths just for the sake of the blood, either.

    Yeah, I want to say more, but that’s really all I can say. It’s a good story. That’s enough to convince me, because it really is quite good. Also, it (the series) has what I maintain should be placed among the very best opening lines in literary history: The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.