Books, Movies and Random Thoughts

I had never read any Janet Evanovich before, and I found these two books a lot of fun. Not knowing anything about her background, I first thought that the detailed descriptions of what Stephanie is wearing at all times, and what she eats, were a link to Raymond Chandler (right from the first paragraph of Chandler’s The Big Sleep, you are given a detailed description of Philip Marlowe’s clothes). However, I later discovered that her background is in romantic fiction, so it’s possible that writing these descriptions is now completely second nature to her. It’s interesting that two such completely different genres can have this kind of overlap.

As detective stories, the plots weren’t anything special (but then, neither are Chandler’s), but I enjoyed the comedy and the slightly surreal nature of the minor characters. Though I hope Stephanie does become slightly more competent as the series progresses – obviously, she’ll never be as good as Morelli or Ranger (doesn’t have their training or background) but it would be nice if just occasionally they could mess up and need her to rescue them.

I had been planning to slowly re-read all of Bujold’s Vorkosigan books in (internal) chronological order. I had not been planning to read these three all in a bunch, but an infected blister, that resulted in two days in hospital on intravenous antibiotics, changed that.

When I set off for the medical centre, knowing that I might spend quite a while in the waiting room, I grabbed Warrior’s Apprentice, knowing that it was engaging, but not too cognitively demanding. (The alternative, which I had just started, was Children’s Literature – An Issues Approach. I decided this would not be ideal under the circumstances.) In the event, Warrior’s Apprentice lasted me not just 40 minutes in the Medical Centre, but also several hours in casualty at the hospital, with a foot that was becoming increasingly painful. The Vor Game and Cetaganda (which Michael brought in for me, along with my laptop and some DVDs) carried me through the next two days in the ward.

These three books have never been among my favourites in the Vorkosigan series. On re-reading, however, they do all have some good stuff in them – Warrior’s Apprentice in particular, since this is the book in which she sets up Miles’ personality. Even in these early books, Miles is an interesting and complex character, and Ivan is a wonderful counterbalance to him. In general, however, I find all three books pretty lightweight when compared to later books in the series.

I absolutely loved Jaclyn Moriarty’s young adult books (Feeling Sorry for Celia and Finding Cassy Crazy) so I was really excited when I learned she had written a “fairytale for grown-ups”. Unfortunately, I was bitterly disappointed when I actually read the book.

Although some of the humour of her writing is still present, it lacks the exuberance of her YA fiction. I liked the character of Listen, and the very believable agonies she goes through when her friends unexpectedly decide to dump her. However, I became progressively less interested in – and more irritated by – Cath, Fancy and Marbie. I also found the whole Zing Family Secret to be very anticlimactic.

Very glad I got this book out of the library, rather than buying it. However, it doesn’t change my opinions of Feeling Sorry for Celia and Finding Cassy Crazy – among the best (and funniest) YA fiction I have read.

Dan Simmons certainly builds up a rich and complex universe, and I always feel I should like these books more than I actually do.

I think part of the problem is the stylistic choices he makes. Hyperion is a sort of Canterbury Tales structure, in which each character in the group of “pilgrims” tells their own story. For each story, Simmons emulates a different writing style, which is interesting, but (for me) ultimately unsuccessful. Fall of Hyperion is even more fractured: I find the concept of telling the tale through the “dreams” of Keats becomes increasingly strained. I also dislike the switches between past and present tense.

The other thing is that I find I don’t really care that much about any of the characters. There are some I feel a degree of interest in – Sol, for example, and Meina Gladstone – but I am pretty indifferent to most of the others. I think this is particularly a problem with the second book: I suspect that if I had connected more with the character of Keats, I would have been a lot more gripped by the book.

This is a pity, as the sweeping events of Fall of Hyperion, in particular, are fascinating, and extremely well presented. As a reader, however, I find I generally need a “small” story in the foreground to keep me emotionally engaged – and Keats’ story just didn’t do it for me. This is probably why The Hollow Man is my favourite of Simmons’ books. I was also gripped by Ilium (and am looking forward to its sequel) – another sweeping story, but one in which I was engaged by the individual characters and their stories.

I think it says it all about my relationship with this series that, although I fully intend to re-read Endymion and The Rise of Endymion as well as the two Hyperion books, I have decided to “take a break” before doing so.

This book had been recommended to me by a number of different people. I found it pleasant enough, but I have to say I wasn’t really gripped by it.

I think part of the problem (for me) was the fact that there wasn’t one, overriding “case” to be solved. I have read other detective stories where you get a quick, one-chapter case to see the detective in action, and then the big one that the story is actually dealing with turns up. This book, however, dealt with a series of smaller cases. The supposed big one (disappearance of a young boy) takes up very little time.

The African setting was not uninteresting, and was often presented quite evocatively, but I was not totally enthralled by it. Quite a lot of the book is devoted to setting up the character, and some time is spent on her history, and that of her father. I found the technique of telling her father’s story in first person a little unexpected, and not entirely successful, although in some ways it is the most powerful section of the book.

All in all, I do not regret reading this book, and I will probably read the others if I come across them in the library. On the other hand, I don’t think I’ll go out of my way to look for them, and I am unlikely to buy them.

I’ve just finished re-reading this, the first in Bujold’s series about Miles Vorkosigan (although this book is actually about his parents, with Miles himself only being born at the very end).

Before reading any of Bujold’s books, I had been vaguely aware of seeing her name crop up now and then in the Galaxy bookshop newsletter, but didn’t really know anything about her. Then one day I came across a website that mentioned that her then most recent book (A Civil Campaign) was dedicated to “Jane, Charlotte, Georgette, and Dorothy” – by which, the site explained, she meant Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Georgette Heyer and Dorothy L. Sayers. Wow, I thought, this is one author I have to read.

Confronted with a range of titles at Galaxy, I wasn’t sure where to start. I had gathered that A Civil Campaign was about Miles Vorkosigan, so I thought it would be better to start at the beginning of the series than with the most recent book. A helpful assistant told me that Cordelia’s Honor was the first book (by internal chronology): he warned that it starts out a bit like “Mills and Boon in space” (and this is a problem? I thought), but to stick with it, as it gets much better. Well, it does, and it did. Bujold has since become one of my favourite SF/fantasy writers.

Cordelia’s Honor is actually two separate books – Shards of Honor and Barrayar. Shards of Honor is essentially a romance, although I think to call it “just” M&B in space is doing Bujold a gross disservice, as it deals with a number of thought-provoking issues. Of course, the M&B aspects (though I think they are more like Georgette Heyer) are good as well! It was the first book Bujold wrote, and I find it interesting that in her Afterword she says that she “already knew, at this early date, that Aral and Cordelia would have a physically handicapped son in Barrayar’s intensely militaristic culture”. I wonder if she realised that this physically handicapped son would be her major ongoing character?

Barrayar is both more eventful and richer in detail than Shards, dealing with politics and civil war, as well as with Aral and Cordelia’s relationship, and Cordelia’s connection with her unborn child. The first time I read them, I enjoyed Shards, but was absolutely gripped by Barrayar. On subsequent re-reads, Shards has risen in my estimation, but I still think Barrayar is more consistent. You can tell that Cordelia’s Honor was written by a woman (and a mother), as the whole concept of motherhood is central to both halves of the story. And yet, it’s also an action packed and exciting story, set in an interesting world.

Due to difficulties in getting hold of the books, I unfortunately read most of the rest of the Vorkosigan series out of order. However, I’m glad I started with Cordelia’s Honor. As well as providing a context for Miles (which original readers wouldn’t have had, as Barrayar wasn’t published until after the first couple of Miles books), I find it a thoroughly enjoyable book in and of itself. In fact, it’s probably one of my favourites in the series – behind Memory, Mirror Dance and A Civil Campaign, but definitely ahead of all the early Miles books up to (and maybe even including) Brothers in Arms.

I picked this book up a few months ago. I came across it in a second hand bookshop, and remembered that people on the Child_Lit list had been raving about it. Ever since, it has been sitting unread on the bookshelf.

This morning, I grabbed it to read in the train. By the time I arrived at work, I was totally gripped, and I finished it in my (rather extended) lunch break. On the way home, I stopped off at a bookshop to buy Gathering Blue, which is set in the same world. Unfortunately, Messenger, which involves the characters from both books, is only available in hardcover at the moment, but I see myself getting it out of the library very soon.

I have never read any Lois Lowry before, but I found her writing style very engaging, and the world she created was interesting. The beginning of the book, where the reader gradually realises what the world is like, was gripping, as was the ending. However I did find the lead up to the climax (when they decide he should run away) a little bit perfunctory, and I wasn’t convinced their rationale was right. (Just because the memories were released by death didn’t seem to guarantee that they would be released simply by his going away.) Of course, it’s her world, so she can do what she likes. And I didn’t find it inconsistent – it just seemed like a bit of a leap of faith, in which they didn’t even realise they were leaping.

I can also see why there is so much controversy about the ending. My initial reaction was that he had died, although from what I had seen on Child_Lit, I knew that he came back in Messenger, and that some people felt this undercut the end of The Giver. So I figured maybe the end should be taken literally. Though when I was looking at reviews on Amazon, some people thought he had come back to where he started, but they now had colour, and weather, and families. I guess I’ll find out what it really means when I read Messenger.

At a high level, the plot reminded me a bit of The Awakening Water, or maybe the first Tripods book, but The Giver was much more sophisticated, and much more gripping, than either of these.