Book – Where Did It All Go Right?

By Andrew Collins

Andrew Collins – journalist (various magazines, including NME, Q, Empire), editor (Empire, Q, Radio Times film reviews), broadcaster (Radio 1 show, movie review show in ITV, 6 Music), television writer (Eastenders, Not Going Out) – obviously likes doing different things. He has become a blogger after all of this, and he’s even written some proper books that are not related to the blog; in fact, he started the blog after writing the trio of memoirs of ‘growing up normal’ that start with the first, Where Did It All Go Right?

Collins decided to write the book because he had a perfectly normal upbringing that wasn’t scary, sad, strange or in any way abnormal, and felt that this should be shared to make up for the autobiographies that detail the hardship of other authors. This is something I can relate to – I come from a happy family that grew up in the suburbs of London around the same time. Whereas my memories are not as sharp, Collins is aided by the fact that he kept a diary from a young age, diaries which he has kept.

The book is a collection of selected diary entries and a distant view of those years, in chronological order. The diary entries start off cute, although they get a little tiresome (something he readily admits) in the teen years, where normal and annoying teenage angst fills what few entries are published, hating the people he had previously liked and talking about girls. As a journalist, Collins has the ability to distance himself from the diary to analyse and contextualise, but the fondness for his family and the years growing up with them still shines through.

For the most part, he lived an ordinary life – he played in the local field with his brother and friends, he read a mountain of comics, even drawing his own, watching loads of films (he talks about a job being the ‘coolest since being Barry Norman’, something I was fond of saying), along with going to school and going on holidays. He had a good relationship with his family – mum, dad, brother, sister, both grandparents (who lived nearby) – and had normal childhood friendships. The only distinguishing feature seems to be his artistic talent (he had a talent for art that appeared early on, and he practised a lot and won contests and had things published) but, apart from that, it is a normal life from the 1970s.

He takes us through the school years (he did well academically to start with, but he did worse in his teens because he wanted to fit in the with cool kids, who frowned on such achievement), the holidays in North Wales, his conversion to punk music and the discovery of girls. In all these things, he is very honest, including his attitudes of the time – casual homophobia, the use of the word ‘spastic’ – which only makes the book more special. His reflections on his life are a delight to read, with a light prose style peppered with humour and insight that is thoroughly engaging. I look forward to the later books reflecting on his time at college and working in the media.

Book: Our Gods Wear Spandex

The Secret History of Comic Book Heroes By Christopher Knowles and illustrations by Joseph Michael Linsner

This is a book that tries to unite all comic book superheroes into a common theme; in this case, that they are all derived from occult origins. This is an unusual idea, but I’m willing to read if presented clearly and coherently. The first chapter is background, but does it with a slight bias from the author – do fans refer to the ‘Chromium Age’ for the dark times of comics in the mid-to-late 1990s? Knowles talks about Image and Acclaim ‘pushing a sort of crack-cocain version of superheroes’, and blames Rob Liefeld who ‘developed a garish vocabulary of visual gimmicks calculated to excite gullible fans.’ So much for impartiality …

The second chapter is titled ‘Kingdom Come’, which indicates the next piece of bias: ‘In 1996, two creators decided they had had enough. One was Alex Ross, an astonishingly talented painter.’ His art makes ‘all other superhero comics look ugly and cynical by comparison.’ If that wasn’t enough, there is ‘His 1996 epic miniseries Kingdom Come’ and ‘Kingdom Come marked the end of the Chromium Age’ to indicate the fact that Alex Ross is the new messiah in the world of comic books. He also makes strange leaps: ‘It is probably no coincidence that two other pivotal creators, Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman, began their careers writing for Captain Marvel’s British counterpart, Marvelman.’ – erm, excuse me? He even blames The Dark Knight Returns as the catalyst for Liefeld and his ‘mob of conspirators’. His interpretation can be off, such as saying that the recent Formerly Known As The Justice League only parodied D-list characters because ‘Superman and Batman must be treated with the utmost solemnity.’

The essential tenet of the book is the symbolism of superheroes is from the pagan age, via secret cults of the late 19th century (Theosophists, Rosicrosians, Golden Dawn, etc.). Knowles provides a condensed history of well-known myths that are pertinent, plus some history before the creation of comic books, which is actually interesting. He talks abut secret society stuff (e.g. Freemasonry), the Victorian occult explosion, and occult superstars (Aleister Crowley and Harry Houdini). He also talks about the authors of the time (Conan Doyle, Verne, Wells, Stoker), the pulps (Tarzan, The Shadow, Doc Savage, etc.), and the pulp authors (Burroughs, Rohmer, Lovecraft, Howard, etc.) who all provided the inspiration that were the soup of early comic books.

The next section provides a brief overview of the start of comics and the early characters with their occult links (Mandrake the Magician, Doctor Occult), as well as the return of odd commentaries, such as the word krypton comes from the Greek ‘kryptos’, meaning hidden or secret, and the Latin translation is ‘occult’ – well, there’s obviously a basis for a book there … The rest of the book is dedicated to splitting the pantheon of comic book heroes into broad categories that are based on occult origins – The Magic Men, Messiahs, Science Heroes, Golems (apparently Batman, Daredevil, Hulk and Punisher), The Amazons, The Brotherhood (i.e. all teams), and Wizards. I’m not convinced but it’s an interesting grouping method.

The book finishes with discussion of creators and their ties to the occult: Kirby, Englehart, Moore, Gaiman, Morrison, Mignola. But he leaves his hero worship for Alex Ross again – ‘By age 12, he was already more talented than most of the nineties hacks whose work wounded him so deeply.’ – plus the limitless and slightly embarrassing praise for Kingdom Come. I know that authors have a point of view, which must be a driving force behind the writing of their books, but it would be preferable if it didn’t overpower the thesis. As I said, I don’t think that all comic book heroes have their origins in the occult (which seems far too restricting in my opinion), but I did enjoy Knowles’ attempt to classify them in this way; the background stuff was an interesting read (Knowles’ prose is perfunctory but unpolished) and thesis is put forward in an easy to understand fashion. Shame about the Liefeld hating/Ross praising, though.

Book: Half The Blood Of Brooklyn

This is the third book in the proposed five-book series of Joe Pitt novels by Charlie Huston, and it’s very much the in-between, transition story. (You can read my thoughts on the previous two here and here.) It is putting the pieces into place for the remaining stories, after Huston has set up all the characters and storylines, while still providing a cracking story.

In a Manhattan where clans of vampires exist in different regions of the city, Pitt is now head of security for The Society, a clan with an attitude of integration and ‘hippie-ness’. This means he is no longer rogue (on his own from all clans), so he can now help his girlfriend Evie, who has HIV/AIDS, get treatment in a hospital now the disease is progressing (Joe agonises over turning her, which would cure the illness, but the laws of the clans forbid it and he doesn’t want to do it). As part of his job, he has to be around for the meetings with vampires from Brooklyn (something nobody thought would happen) and be informed when a well-known supplier of blood to vampires has been massacred, and looks like the work of a ‘Van Helsing’, i.e. a proper vampire killer.

Joe has a friendship, of sorts, with Daniel, who is head of The Enclave, who believe that through fasting and meditation (think vampire shaolin monks) will be able to go out into the sunlight. He has a meeting with him about Evie’s status and whether she would be able to withstand the transformation (which is a very unpredictable event). He also meets Amanda, who he saved in the first book, who is now come into her inheritance (a vast fortune, including a large pharmaceutical company) and believes that she will make a cure for vampirism (her girlfriend/bodyguard is a vampire). He also has a meeting with The Count, a character he met and affected in the second book, who has a role in the finances of The Society and a former life as a med student.

The main part of the story is when Joe has to accompany Lydia, one of the higher ups in The Society, to a meeting to Brooklyn to talk with a new clan. Obviously, things don’t go as planned with the less-than-honest group of vampires, made worse when they are attacked by – and I hate to bring spoilers to a review, but I have to mention this because it is so genius I couldn’t not – Jewish vampires. Huston makes this work (his natural knack for different dialects, working well with Jewish Brooklyn sound without making sound clichéd) and bases the idea around a passage from the Bible in Judges 19–20, calling it the curse of the Tribe of Benjamin, and the city of Gibeah. It is inspired and believable (within a story of vampires, obviously). The ensuing story reveals the violence innate to Pitt, the fate of Daniel and The Count and Evie (not what I was expecting), and the status of Pitt within in The Society and the clans of Manhattan.

This book is too short (the book includes a Q&A with Huston and a sample of a chapter from an author the publishers think we may like – please don’t do that, publishers). because I absolutely loved it. It is a gripping, fast-paced, electrifying read – I genuinely couldn’t stop reading the book, as I devoured it on my way to and from work. Huston dedicates the book to Chandler and Stoker, for the obvious reason, and it shows in the hard-boiled dialogue and prose and the tragic nature of the story. An amazing grasp on his characters and his world, and the sadness inherent in humanity, this is exactly the sort of book I love to read. I can’t wait for the final two books – want the remaining stories NOW.

Books From A Library: Neil Gaiman

Not only do I read a lot of comic books that my local library is so kind to stock for me, I also read the 'normal' stuff (you know, without pictures) as well. Apparently, they have a lot of those sort in the library too … An I reviewed Eternals yesterday, it made sense to talk about some of Neil Gaiman's books I've read recently.

Fragile Things
This is another collection of fiction pieces from Gaiman; poems, very short stories, longer pieces – the highlights are the first and last stories. The first tale is A Study In Emerald, in which the world of Sherlock Holmes meets the world of HP Lovecraft (and won the Hugo Award in 2004) in delightful combination and a lovely twist. The final story is Monarch of the Glen, a novelette about Shadow, from American Gods, featuring Mr Alice and Mr Smith from an earlier story in the collection, which is inspired by Beowulf.

Messrs Alice and Smith feature in Keepsakes and Treasures, about Mr Smith meeting Mr Alice for the first time and the Treasure of the Shahinai, and is an interesting little story that makes me look forward to the future story promised by Neil about how they part ways. There is also The Problem of Susan, which are Gaiman’s thoughts on the Narnia stories and Lewis’ attitude to one of characters, an interesting if unsatisfying diversion. Sunbird is a nice story Gaiman wrote for his daughter’s birthday about a club for people who have eaten everything except for the delicacy of the title. This is an unusual collection of the many different fictions of Gaiman, with some true gems.


Coraline
The story of a young girl, Coraline (definitely not Caroline), who enters a world on the wrong side of a door in her new home where her other parents want to keep her there forever. This other world is similar to the real world, but different, with strange counterparts to the inhabitants of the flats in the converted house in which Coraline lives happily with her real parents. However, she is too smart, determined and resourceful to let that happen. Accompanied by the unusual yet strangely appropriate images of Dave McKean, this a book for children the same age as Coraline who will see adventure in the world which might be seen as scary and know that being resourceful will win the day (and not strength).

Gaiman brings his talent for making a world seem so real through his prose and parlays into a younger reader world without losing his clarity or gift for storytelling. This is quite a gift – to be able to tell tales no matter the age of the reader, and stay free to oneself as a writer and the reader. Coraline is a thoroughly engaging heroine in a scary-exciting world.


The Day I Swapped My Dad For Two Goldfish
This is how much I enjoy the storytelling of Neil Gaiman: I read a children’s book that he wrote. And, seeing as the library had a problem when they reserved it for me (the wrong code had been stuck on the wrong book, meaning they had reserved another author’s book about teddy bears or something, and I had to go to the trouble of getting it all sorted out, in the children’s section of the library), it goes to show the strange kind of person I am.

This is a wonderful premise for a story – only a child would think of it – and the simple, clear prose and strangely appropriate art of McKean (odd, angular but slightly otherworldly, mixed with a strange realism: for example, there is a drawing of a boy thinking while sitting on an improportionally high-backed chair, with Da Vinci-style diagrams in his brain) come together to provide a thoroughly charming book.

It is funny and true and unreal all at the same time (Lines like ‘She only calls me Young Man if she’s very, very mad.’ or ‘‘‘Oh-oh,’’ said my little sister.’ had me smiling and nodding my head in agreement). As the title states, the boy has swapped his father for two goldfish; his mother forces him to get his father back, only to find he’s been swapped for other things along the way: an electric guitar, a gorilla mask, a white rabbit. Dad hasn’t noticed; he’s been reading his newspaper, which is all dads do all day, isn’t it? The only thing he does is say, ‘Children’, in the fatherly way, to the children when they are arguing. I wish I had had a book like this when I was young.

Book Review: Contract

Contract by Simon Spurrier

By a confluence of events, I discovered that Si Spurrier was writing Gutsville and a new Silver Surfer mini series In Thy Name, and then saw this book – about a hitman whose hits come back from the dead, hinting at a divine conflict, a heavenly war – which, you have to admit, sounds pretty damn cool. Excerpts on a promo site about the protagonist, Michael Point, suggest an interesting prose style: I’m sold.

I would like to tell you now that the book is NOT about a heavenly war. At all. So, if you thought it might be worth reading based on the synopsis, like I did, you should not read the book. The story is not quite what it seems. Point is a hitman; he’s been doing it for a few years when we meet him, and he has a pragmatic approach: It’s All About The Money. No morals and a careful attitude, combined with lots of internet research, and away he goes. The book is told in first person, so Michael can tell you everything you need to know about him and what he does. Herein lies a large measure of the appeal of the book. Spurrier has a strong voice, detailing the extremes of his protagonist. The only trouble is the repetitive emphasis of a man with a limited imagination (the protagonist, not the author): ‘The thing is:’, ‘This place’, ‘Listen’, ‘Bear with me’, ‘The point is’, What I’m thinking is’ punctuate the prose with oppressive regularity, deliberately to highlight the central character’s mindset, but it gets really tiring actually reading this style.

Spurrier captures the voice and thoughts of a man who thinks he is better than he is and the way he goes about life – the details, the anal quality, the sadness, the need to talk to someone – but it grinds you down.

The story weaves between him being interviewed after the fact and relating to us exactly what he is telling the interviewers. Oddly, this is interspersed with diary entries of a woman is Michael’s closest human contact, which throws things off a bit. Michael kills a man (using a gun with bullets laced with heroin) but he comes back and has to kill them again. This keeps happening. He is hired by someone to do ‘special’ jobs, but who seems to know a lot about him. The final job is the difficult job, with lots of people to kill, from which he doesn’t expect to escape. During this, the woman interacts with him a lot, influencing his brain and the way he does his job, especially as he starts to think that religion is involved, what with all these people coming back to life after he kills them.

But it is nothing to do with heaven or hell, and the only thing that didn’t make me throw the book away at the end in disgust was the reveal behind the interview room scenes. Otherwise, I felt slightly cheated by the outcome. My fault for wanting what they said on the tin, I guess. At least some of the journey was interesting.

From A Library - Book: Knight Life

Knight Life by Peter David

As well as comics in my library, they have actual text-only books as well. I know, weird. Having read Peter David’s comics since Incredible Hulk, I had been wanting to read his own novels (rather than his Star Trek stories). This version of Knight Life was the revised text – PAD had gone back to it to update and expand it quite substantially – so bear that in mind when reading my thoughts.

Arthur has been returned from a suspended state by the immortal Merlin (he is ageing backwards, so he is now a twelve-year-old boy), and is running for mayor of New York under the supervision of Merline, with Percival as their accountant (he is immortal due to drinking from the Holy Grail). Guinevere has been reincarnated as Gwen de Vere Queen, with whom Arthur reconnects. Morgan and Modred are still alive (the latter as Moe, a PR to the republican candidate), with Morgan wanting to destroy everyone as usual. Arthur is honest charismatic and a born leader of men; Gwen is a modern, smart woman in a bad relationship with a useless layabout of a writer called Lance.

This is a fun tale of Arthur Penn (short for Pendragon) as the independent candidate who runs for mayor based on his ‘old’ ideas about things, e.g. his response to the question about the death penalty is that the wronged party of a murder should determine the punishment. Of course, things don’t run smooth when Morgan gets involved.

Compared with his comics, this novel doesn’t ‘feel’ like PAD – the story is relatively ‘straight’ and the jokes are less abundant (although there are nice small gags thrown in: Merlin talks about his skill with computers is dues to being involved from the start – IBM stands for Invented By Merlin) but it is an enjoyable tale told in a straight-forward manner, all with PAD’s excellent grasp of story construction and the world of fantasy in the real world.

Books: Storm Front

Storm Front by Jim Butcher

In Book One of The Dresden Files series, we meet Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, a wizard in Chicago who does consultant work for police (particularly with Karrin Murphy in the Special Investgations section, i.e. the unusual stuff nobody else wants). A death involving powerful dark magic occurs and Harry is drawn into a case involving ‘Gentleman’ Johnny Marcone (the head of organised crime, but a civilised boss nonetheless) and a new mage who is not afraid to do whatever it takes to get ahead, even invoking demons in order to kill Harry.

The book is all set up for a series – the world is explained and the background established: how magic works in this world, its laws (and Laws) and logic, the White Council, Mac and his bar, etc. There are lots of nice touches that show that this is well-thought out: electronic devices don’t work well around Harry, a cane as a focus for his magic, Bob the skull (a spirit of air who resides in a skull who remembers things for Harry), the Nevernever as the source of other-worldly things like vampires, Morgan the representative of the White Council who shadows Harry after an earlier incident in Harry’s life that had him in front of the Council, the Sight that magicians have but don’t use often because of all the problems involved. Butcher has created an interesting world and an interesting character through which to investigate it.

The prose, told in the first person, is a little rough around the edges at times, perhaps indicative of a first book, but the scenario and the storytelling make up for it. There are some annoying touches: the ‘Clone War’ remarks (after the throwaway line in Star Wars, which suggested a lot of history without dwelling on it) in the book are too much, indicating future storylines but without any further elucidation to make you feel included in the story; they just irritate with the tease of possibility.

Storm Front is engrossing and the resolution exciting and satisfying, and I can understand why the series was turned into a television series (which I haven’t seen) but I don’t know if I’ll buy any of the further books. I might read some via the library though – that counts as a recommendation, doesn’t it?

Neil Gaiman Week: Stardust (The Book)

Stardust – Being a Romance Within the Realms of Faerie

by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess

I remember when I first got this book – I was exchanging some comic books for new material, including Stardust. I hadn’t read it before, but I knew that Gaiman had written it and Vess had illustrated it – what else did I need to know? However, I was surprised to find out that it was an illustrated novel – I thought it was a comic book. D’oh!

The novel is as described exactly in the subtitle – a love story in Faerie. In the village of Wall, some time in the past, Dunstan Thorn crosses the gap in the wall that leads to Faerie, where he meets a woman entrapped by a witch, and they make love. Nine months later, a baby boy called Tristran is left at Dunstan’s doorstep. Eighteen years later, he foolishly promises to retrieve the fallen star that fell to Earth on the other side of the wall for the young lady he loves. Meanwhile, the king of Stormhold is dying and throws his silver chained-pendant with topaz out of the castle and tells his remaining sons whoever finds it will be the next king. Tristran finds the fallen star – a beautiful woman called Yvainne – and begins the journey of taking her back as a gift for his love. Of course, things don’t quite go to plan …

Gaiman writes the story in a slightly old-fashioned style, but maintaining his distinctive voice, with its lightness of touch, clarity of storytelling, elegant choice of phrase, clean dialogue and impish sense of humour. The story starts slowly, as he sets the scene of the normality of village life in Wall – this is necessary to highlight the world of Faerie in which the bulk of the story takes place – but it makes you wish that he would get on with it. When he does write about the magical world, the story just floats on air, alive and organic, as if it is an old story told many times before.

Of course, if you are going to have a story set in Faerie, the only choice of artist is Charles Vess. Whenever I read stories set in magical realms, it is Vess’ art that I see in my mind’s eye. The ethereal, otherworldiness he brings to his depictions of witches and stars and magic are just so perfect, with the elongated human shapes and the exquisite detail. The combination of words and art is quite charming, and I don’t mind the fact that I originally thought this was a comic book. Stardust is quite the most charming fairy tale, with a poetically appropriate ending and a thoroughly believable romance. Thoroughly deserving of turning into a film …

Neil Gaiman Week: Neverwhere (The Book)

My chronological memory is rather hazy, which is a shame; when I remember actual things, I do have a strong sense of the memory. I can’t recall when I went to a reading/Q&A by Neil Gaiman – I think it was soon after I returned to London, which would be about mid to late ‘90s but I wouldn’t swear to that in court. What I remember most, apart from the enjoyable time listening to Neil talk and read, was him reading the last words of the first chapter of the book: ‘Bugger.’

Or, that’s how I remember it. This version’s chapter one doesn’t end with the word ‘bugger’ (it’s about two-thirds of the way in), and I don’t know if it’s my memory or the fact that I have ‘Author’s preferred text’. Whichever it is, it’s still a lot better than the television series. This is in itself is quite odd – Neil Gaiman and Lenny Henry get a television series created but Neil wasn’t completely happy with the finished product (more due to the nature of the BBC making fantasy programmes at the time than anything else) so he writes the book of the show for himself. Normally, when other media ruins a story, you’ve always got the original – how many times does somebody go out of their way to effectively create the original for comparative purposes?

Richard Mayhew, an ordinary chap in an ordinary job, helps a homeless-looking girl in trouble, and his life changes forever. Because she is Door of London Below, the surviving member of her family, who have all been killed, and is still being hunted. Having interacted with her, and helped her obtain protection in the form of the Marquis de Carabas, Richard is now one of London Below, and his existence is ignored by London Above – he no longer has a job, a flat or a girlfriend. Desperate and alone, through chance he gets to London Below and finds Door again and aids her in her quest to find the people responsible for the death of her family. Along the way, he meets people with names of familiar London places – Old Bailey, Hammersmith, the Seven Sisters, the Earl of Earl’s Court, the Black Friars – and sees the other side of London.

As with all Gaiman’s work, the mix of the real and magical is thoroughly absorbing and totally believable – there is never any room for doubt in the world he has created. This had an unwanted side-effect of making the stretches of the beginning of the book in the normal world seem even more mundane than is the obvious intention, but that could be my preference for the fantasy aspect of the novel. It matters little after getting into the story – Gaiman’s prose, clear and eloquent, brings the magical to life in an extraordinarily apposite manner and you forget everything else. I wasn’t completely convinced of the transformation of Richard into the hero character at the end, but that could be the good job of making him so ordinary throughout the rest of the book.

Being a Londoner, the transformation of the tube map into a collection of strange people and places is utterly charming (the Angel Islington brings a smile to my face just typing it). The characters that populate the story are a delight – the enigmatic Marquis, the white collar professional thugs Mr Croup and Mr Vandemar are a lot of fun, Hunter – and the book feels like it is a complete thing, rather than the novelisation of a television series because Gaiman wasn’t totally happy with the way the show worked out (and rightfully so). Although my favourite novel of his is American Gods, Neverwhere is still a wonderful mix of story and storytelling that gets quite close.

Book Review: The Fourth Bear

The Fourth Bear by Jasper Fforde

The Fourth Bear is the second book in the Nursery Crime series (the first was The Big Over Easy) by Jasper Fforde, following the adventures of DCI Jack Spratt, Detective Sergeant Mary Mary and Detective Constable Ashley (an alien). Despite the success of the Humpty Dumpty case in the first book, the Nursery Crime Division is still undermanned and under-funded and still seen as a joke. When the serial killer the Gingerbread Man escapes from the asylum where he was kept, it should by NCD that head the case, but it is given to another department. Spratt is undergoing psychiatric evaluation (working at NCD requires a certain mental flexibility, and he is after all a Person of Dubious Reality himself, having once been the Jack Sprat who ate no fat), but he has agreed to help look for the journalist Henrietta ‘Goldilocks’ Hatchett, missing since visiting one of the top cucumber growers in Reading who died shortly after her visit in a massive explosion, and her connection to the bear society of Reading and their porridge quotas.

The magic of Fforde is the combination of tight plotting, great characters, delightful world building and a delirious sense of humour (calling the legislation for porridge quotas ‘porribition’ is just an example). His Thursday Next series had all this, with the inspired ideas of being able to enter books and the world of fiction having its own police force (Jurisfiction). The Nursery Crime series has characters from nursery tales/mythology being real people, used as the source of a taut police procedural.

The first book, although a fun read, didn’t satisfy as much as the Thursday Next books, perhaps to do with the way the book turned in the last chapters. The balance between Fforde’s genre-bending, punning and silly ideas didn’t seem to blend well with the police procedural (something that Fforde admits to in the Special Features section for the book on his website). However, in this book he has got it just right (if you’ll forgive me the deliberate allusion to Goldilocks herself); the story still stands up as whodunit but it revels more in its innate absurdity – there are the references by the characters to using plot device numbers to describe how they will solve the investigation, there is wonderfully silly tongue-twisting resolution to an in-joke (something the characters themselves comment upon), talking about Superintendent Briggs as a ‘threshold guardian’ and the way Jack circumvents the psychiatric evaluation by dissecting the secondary character nature of the psychiatrist and her role in the book. The best of all comes when, near the end, Jack explains the MacGuffin for all the deaths and skullduggery to some of the characters, including a scientist who loves conspiracy theories. When this scientist keeps up with the discussion, the line reads that his work with conspiracy theories meant he was able to digest outrageous explanations, ‘as should you’ – this line had me in hysterics on the train.

This book is a joy from beginning to end. Characters you love (even the psychotic Gingerbread Man), a tight plot, bundles of silliness and enjoyable to read. Fforde is fast becoming one of my favourite authors, with his love of the absurd and entertaining writing style. The only disappointment is finding out that the next book in the series is supposedly the last. I wouldn’t want him to keep on writing for the sake of it but, when they’re this good, you don’t want the series to stop, ever.

Book Review: Vicious Circle

Vicious Circle by Mike Carey

Felix Castor is back in this second novel for more action in the London-based world of exorcism. His ‘trainee’, the succubus Juliet, asks him for his help on the possession of a church near Wormwood Scrubs. His best friend, Rafi, seems to be miraculously free of the possession by the high demon Asmodeus, a possession that Fix unwittingly assisted in the first place. And he’s been asked to find the ghost of a girl by the parents who had got used to having her around. Of course, these three events have more in common that at first would appear …

Carey has crafted another exciting and entertaining story, which delves further into the supernatural elements of the universe he has created for his protagonist (where ghost are now so common that Parliament has bills being prepared about the issue and an entrepreneurial scientist has an entire department set up in Paddington to research it). All the aspects of the first book are still in place – Castor’s witty narrative (with its English-based humour and references), the wonderful sense of a real world of ghosts and were-beings and exorcists, the three-dimensional characters that populate it, and a twisty and engrossing narrative.

This book expands on the first book, maintaining the momentum and developing the themes, the milieu of the book and the intricacies of the supernatural element behind stories. The only qualm I had about the second book is a worry about what I called ‘Kay Scarpetta Syndrome’ – Patricia Cornwell’s heroine who started out as a forensic pathologist in Richmond, Virginia, but ended up being involved with fighting terrorists and saving America – the expansion of the character out of its small and interesting world into ever larger and larger dramatic situations and outside of their natural setting. In this case, I hope Fix doesn’t end up battling Heaven and Hell with just his tin whistle …

Still, I couldn’t help but enjoy this compelling and well-crafted tale about a great character – more please, Mr Carey.

Books: No Dominion

No Dominion by Charlie Huston

I really enjoyed Already Dead, the introduction to Joe Pitt and the Vampyr Clans of Manhattan, and so was really looking forward to the second book, No Dominion. What I didn’t realise was how good it was going to be.

Joe is going through tough times after the first book, where he burned bridges with the Coalition, the largest and richest of the Vampyr clans, and now has no regular job or any money or access to fresh blood (which needs to be obtained in discrete fashion to keep the vampyrs from getting noticed). When he witnesses a vampyr spazzing out in the bar where his girlfriend Evie works and is then asked by his friend and former boss, Terry, head of the Society, to look into this dangerous new drug, it starts a chain of events that leads to more than he bargained for.

Charlie Huston has delivered another thrilling ride for Pitt, as well as providing insights and clues into how the clans work and what the future has in store. Although the story starts slowly, it becomes a non-stop thrill once it gets going and you feel hungry for more after you finish – the book was too short at around 250 pages. Pitt gets more face-time with Daniel and the Enclave, and we get to see the Hood, the Clan above 110th street that took its turf from the Coalition, and its leader – DJ Grave Digga. Huston excels here with his excellent dialogue; sometimes a white author can really fall flat on his face trying to write authentic ‘urban’ but Huston gets it right.

The mix of the witty, hard-boiled narration from Pitt, the authenticity of Manhattan, the explosive action and the complexities of the characters and Clans make for a scintillating and dazzling read that leaves you breathless. What’s more, the organic development of the character within this world never feels forced for the sake of Huston’s plan for a proposed five books – everything that occurs feels completely natural within the context of the narrative, making the conclusions logical and the intricate plot a thing of beauty. No Dominion is cracking read and it has only increased my hunger for the next books.

Book Review: The Devil You Know

By Mike Carey

I expect that most well-read comic book readers probably came across Mike Carey first via the Lucifer series from Vertigo, a spin-off from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, about the fallen angel after he gave the keys to hell to Morpheus – he must be a brave (or desperate) man to work on something related to Gaiman’s landmark comic book series. Subsequently, he has moved onwards and upwards, working on a long run on Hellblazer and now writing Ultimate Fantastic Four and The X-Men. In between all this, he’s managed to find time to write prose novels, of which The Devil You Know is the first in the Felix Castor series.

Felix Castor, which is a great name for a central character, is a former freelance exorcist – he grew up being psychically sensitive to the paranormal, and found he had an ability to exorcise ghosts when he got fed up being pestered by the ghost of his dead sister. He hasn’t worked in a year because of the exorcism that went wrong when he was trying to help his friend who had been experiment with some dangerous magic. However, his landlady (an old friend from his brief college days) is behind on her mortgage, and he is behind on his rent, so the fates determine that he cannot turn down the opportunity of some relatively easy money when he gets called to perform an exorcism at the Bonnington Archive in London. Obviously, things don’t go smoothly or there wouldn’t be much of a story.

And a good story it is. Carey has created an intriguing character in Castor and his first-person narrative. It’s squarely in the noir domain but not limited to investigations – in fact, by definition the source of the story is already dead. This is an interesting basis for a recurring character – the world of ghosts allows for a large cross-section of society for the purpose of story-telling. Carey adds to this by having his world witness a tipping point in the ghost world equilibrium causing more and more to appear and become part of normal existence. He also allows for ghosts to be an explanation for animalistic paranormality – one character Castor comes across is a loup garou, a ghost who has changed the shape of an animal into a basic human form, increasing the scope of worlds to be used.

Another aspect that is central to the story is London itself. Castor, like Carey himself, comes from Liverpool and moved to London and sees it from a different viewpoint, looking at the city in an absorbing manner. It makes the novel very English, particularly with the narrative style – any character who references the famous last line of commentary from the England World Cup win of 1966 gets my vote even if it might alienate others who don’t get it. The prose and the dialogue are filled with Englishisms that make the book breathe and come to life. The little details display the thought behind the story and the skill Carey brings to this world he has created – the basic premise and character might have some similarities to the star of Hellblazer, John Constantine (a Scouser who dabbles in magic), but the results are very different. The Devil You Know is a satisfying and engrossing read, with an interesting character in Felix Castor that makes me want to read more. I look forward to the next book in the series.

Book: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

As I’ve mentioned, I enjoy the Harry Potter series. I enjoy the world that JK Rowling has created and the characters that fill it. The attention to detail, from the huge history to the names of people and spells, and the placing of a world of magic next to the context of the modern world of the mundane are wonderful. Therefore, I was looking forward with anticipation to how it would all come together in the final book.

I was amazed by the hype and coverage that surrounded the release of the book. The media coverage was particularly impressive and wide-ranging, but the fan level was even more amazing. And this was all for a book. Isn’t that great? Doesn’t that hold out hope for the human race? That people were that excited about a book. It gave me a warm tingle. It was probably this that made the going out, just before midnight, to pick up the book along with many others, seeing the queues outside book shops of people eager to get their hands on a copy. I’m glad I was out there at 12:01 along with everyone else, being part of the phenomenon.

I read it in a rush over the course of Saturday and Sunday, finishing it too quickly on Sunday and giving myself a bit of a headache in the process. But it was worth it, and there’s no higher praise I can give it. Even though, as a fan, it was going to be hard to be disappointed by this book, the final book follows on and completely ties up everything that has gone before in a marvelously satisfying read. Everything is connected, with even minor characters from earlier stories making appearances, and details from throughout the previous six books have an impact on what happens in this book, in logical and narratively satisfying manner.

We find Harry at the Dursleys, getting them into protection as we near his seventeenth birthday, when the protections on him and the house will end, and he has to go into hiding. Along with Hermione and Ron, they go on their mission to find the remaining Horcruxes (which hold the portions of Voldemort’s soul, keeping him immortal) without the aid of the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore’s Army. The story gets off to an exciting start immediately, as we are plunged into a world of darkness and sorrow, as Death Eaters have infiltrated the Ministry and magical families without the right blood connections are suspected and Muggle-born folk are seen as dirty and animal-like. The book wins the title of darkest yet, as death is a constant companion through the story, with many characters facing their ends.

The darkness continues throughout the middle section of the book, as our trio are cut off from the normal world they know and the characters we have come to love. This section may be slow in comparison, but it is needed for all the backstory and for isolating Harry in his hero status, before the final climax, not only to the book but to the entire saga. A lot of the humour for which Rowling is known has to be absent from this part, dark as it is, because we can’t be allowed too much relief at this point. However, when you reach the last 200 pages, you will not want to put the book down or stop reading, as you race through the excitement of the finale. It is an exhilarating read that explains everything and reaches its thrilling conclusion. There is laughter, sadness, revelation, love, loyalty, courage, nobility, death and resolution. What more can you ask for?

I know there are some that decry the popularity of the books, the effects on the book retail industry, the writing style of Rowling (and her excess use of adverbs), the fact that they are for children, but they are missing the point. The books are deliriously entertaining stories, and that is the most important factor. The delightful characters, the thrilling plots, the amazing singular vision (obviously in place from the first word of the first book), the humour, the magic have all provided hours of entertainment for many people, myself included, and, while I will miss the them (I felt a little empty after finishing Deathly Hallows, knowing that there was no more), I was filled with a happiness at having read it all and was thoroughly entertained throughout. JK Rowling, thank you.

Books: McSweeney’s Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales

Edited by Michael Chabon, written by various (obviously), illustrations by Howard Chaykin

A collection of short stories by top authors? Yes, please. A literary buffet for sampling the skills of different wordsmiths, with some nice art by the stylish Mr Chaykin. Somebody had a good idea there.

Glen David Gold provides an amusing little tale of an elephant and revenge. Elmore Leonard and the Old West is a sure-fire winner, and this little story of justice is no different. Neil Gaiman’s Closing Time is a classy ghost story, told in his usual charming style.

Nick Hornby provides an odd tale of a boy with fast forward on television and what happens when it no longer fast forwards. Stephen King seems to have given Chabon a include a chapter from Dark Tower, with all the irritating vocal tics of the unexplained characters,which seems to defeat the aim of the book of providing complete tales in one.

An interesting, fun tale of time-bending and writing comes from Chris Offutt, an author I’ve never heard of before. Dave Eggers, I’ve heard of him, tells a travelogue of a woman climbing Kilimanjaro; the tale is nothing remarkable but the telling is enjoyable.

Ghost Dance by Sherman Alexie tells an enjoyable tale of the Seventh Cavalry rising from the grave and the investigator who finds the answer, although the ending seemed a little flat. The winner of the story that impressed me the most goes to Michael Moorcock’s story of Sir Seaton Begg – I’ve never read his work before, although I’ve read about him, but this made me want to read more of his work NOW.

There is a slight story by Harlan Ellison, and a long story by Rick Moody that kept going on that I couldn’t bother to finish. But there is a big finish from Chabon himself, in the start of a big adventure tale, The Martian Agent, A Planetary Romance’, a romp of alternate history/boys own adventure. All in all, a very satisfying collection. Three cheers for McSweeney's; why not help them out and buy something?

Book Review: Dead Witch Walking

Dead Witch Walking by Kim Harrison

This book was the first time I made use of the Amazon recommendation function to try a new book. Having bought Already Dead, their information gathering programme decided I should try other books involving detective work and vampires (and witches and pixies, oh my) and came up with the Rachel Morgan series, the first of with is Dead Witch Walking (all of the titles are puns – The Good, The Bad, and the Undead; Every Which Way But Dead; A Fistful of Charms – which is cute).

Rachel Morgan is a witch, a former runner with the Inderlander Runner Services, a government body that handles the crimes committed by the magical community, which is now out in the open following a genetically engineered virus that killed half of the world’s human population. She quit the service, but has to pay for it (something to do with breaking her contract – I never really understood the reasoning behind this), which she thinks she will be able to do by capturing Trent Kalamack, a suspected drug lord who hides behind the respectability of being a prominent citizen.

In doing this, she is helped by Ivy, a vampire who doesn’t feed, who quit with her (for reasons of her own); Jenks, a pixy she worked with; Keasley, an old yet knowlegable neighbour (across from the church she and Ivy now share); and, eventually, a human called Nick who knows all about the magic world. These people all her in her investigations into Trent and trying to find evidence that can be used against him.

The world Harrison creates is well realised (even if she does go overboard at times; however, it is the first book, so she has a lot to do) and the use of magical characters naturally in the world is impressive. I enjoyed the slightly strange world she writes about, and the different characters and interpolation of the magical into the normal world are both engaging.

The major I had problem was the tone of voice used by Harrison. The narration is first person, and there is a strange jauntiness that jibes with the hard-boiled feel of the world. I really hope it isn’t a male/female thing but it just got on my nerves, which is a shame as there is a lot to enjoy in the book. Also, it doesn’t help that the character of Rachel feels like an author wish fulfilment – witness the red-haired author and the description of red-haired Rachel.

Another factor was the setting up of the Trent character as the major villain for the series. It felt very forced, especially having him as such a large-scale bad guy but having Rachel as quite a lowly runner. He gets away in the end, of course – sorry to spoil it for you – but he’s needed for later in the series. Well, I assume he will because I won’t be around for them. The occasionally irritating narration, the forced plot mechanics and author-as-lead-character (at least, as obvious as this – Joe Pitt doesn’t feel like a Charlie Huston substitute in Already Dead) were all too much to for me, even if I enjoyed the world Harrison created. At least I tried something new, and I’ll know not to go by Amazon’s recommendation in the future.

Book Review: Already Dead

Already Dead by Charlie Huston

The high concept of this book is hard-boiled vampire detective. Great idea but it needs the execution to make it work – and that is exactly what Huston brings to this great story.

Joe Pitt is vampire (or ‘Vampyre’, as Huston has it) in Manhattan, but he doesn’t belong to any of the clans that rule sections of the island. Most of the city is ruled by the Coalition, from 14th street up to 110th (where the Hood takeover), with the rest of the lower end split up into various clans (the Society, Family, Enclave, the Wall, the Dusters, and the Bulls and the Bears). He makes his way by doing jobs for the Coalition and the Society without taking any clan affiliations, because he wants to go it his own way.

The book starts with a great line: ‘I smell them before I see them.’ Pitt is tracking some zombies (‘shamblers’) in his neighbourhood. Huston has a nice explanation of the bacteria that cause the zombie state; he also has a well-thought out scientific discussion of the ‘Vyrus’ that causes vampirism. It also helps that he does the hard-boiled dialogue and prose really well – a good tale is not enough if it isn’t told well – with such lyrical expressions as ‘yellow tape, this era’s icon of tragedy’.

In dealing with the shamblers, Pitt comes into conflict with the Coalition, and he has to agree to do a job for them, looking for the missing daughter of a prominent New York family. As with classic pulp noir, the case our hero is working on at the beginning that seems to be unrelated to the main investigation ends up being integral to the plot and things dovetail in a climax of conspiracy and violence.

I had never read any Huston before; I had heard of him when he took up duties on the new Moon Knight launch, although I didn’t read any of that to judge him. The conceit of the novel is what attracted me to this spontaneous purchase and it was one of those electric moments when one discovers a cracking piece of fiction that had no previous form (Huston has written other, non-Pitt novels, but I haven’t heard of them). The fascinating character of Pitt, the well-developed sense of the world in which he lives, the supporting players in this absorbing story all work – I thought that this was a novel in the middle of the series, it was so assured and completely realised. It was a wonderful surprise to discover that it is the first in five books about Pitt, and I can’t wait to read the next books.

Pitt is a classic protagonist in the vein of Marlowe and Spade, and the vampirism adds that extra edge that gives a frisson to the action. Also, the book is a Manhattan story, as the island plays a real part in the book. The naturalism of the description of the city helps to create the illusion of reality, as Pitt moves through the different levels of New York. Add Huston’s razor-sharp prose and you have a highly recommended book. Now, I'll have to try his Moon Knight series ...

Book Round-Up: Purity of Blood, Zen and the Art of Motorcyle Maintenance, Waking Dragons

In my attempt to catch-up on the reviews of the things that have been entertaining me during my most recent sabbatical, here are a few notes on books I've been reading (which are hopefully better than my rather rubbish commentary on the Queen & Country novels; those books are even better than my misguided attempt to summarise them in three paragraphs).

Purity of Blood (An Adventure of Captain Alatriste) by Arturo Perez-Reverte

This book was a Christmas present from a friend. It is an historical novel by a former journalist, translated from the original Spanish, written in the first person by Inigo Balboa, the young ward of soldier of fortune, Captain Diego Alatriste, set in the early 1700s in Madrid. The story involves a father and two sons asking for help to free the daughter, who is being kept in a convent by a powerful chaplain who does unpleasant things to the novices. On helping, it turns out that it is a trap to capture Alatriste, who escapes, but our narrator is captured by the Inquisition.

Herein lies the problem with the story: our narrator is relaying these events as his life in the past from some time in the future. How is there any tension involved? He also talks about how he and Alatriste would have other adventures after this incident, so you know Alatriste won’t die. You know that nothing dangerous is going to happen. The slight story is therefore devoid of suspense. It is very bizarre. The real work in the novel is the research into the details of the period, which the author does admirably. You get a feel for the world in which our protagonists live and the way that society operated (and the accurate yet not exactly pleasant attitude to Jews, shortly after they had been driven out of Spain).

The translation works well, demonstrating the clear and descriptive prose well. The only place where translation and the original prose falls down is in the multiply used device of inserting snatches of witty poetry of the time – every other character, particularly the narrator, feels the need to show off their literary knowledge and poetry skills, which gets really annoying after a time, and the stanzas have been translated such that they rhyme in English. A well-written tale, but lacking that certain something that makes you want to read it.


Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M Pirsig

I have had this book on my shelves for a while as one of those books I’ve heard about and should read. I finally got round to it but don’t know if I got anything out of it. In it, the author talks about the metaphysics of Quality, which he does while going on a motorcycle trip with his son and interspersing this narrative with the history of Phaedrus, the name of a character in a Plato dialogue that he gives to himself to describe his university days and the original search for the value of quality. The philosophy stuff is out of my league, but it is written in a clear and accessible style that puts across all the relevant points without being excessively dry or academic. The travelogue is more readable, with a simple, elegant style seemingly honed from writing technical manuals for a living. He talks a lot of sense, but I don’t know if I can fully comprehend the meaning of everything. It is an interesting read, if not exactly a page turner.


Waking Dragons by Goran Powell

Waking Dragons (which is a great title, and the book has a great cover to match) is a non-fiction book about the author’s life in martial arts and his physical and mental preparation for the 30-man kumite, where the karate-ka must fight 30 other karate-ka (all with at least a second dan black belt) for a minute each at full strength, full contact. I have done a bit of karate (it is too external and physical for me – I prefer the internal power and beauty of Chen Taijiquan) and so know a bit about the physical hardships involved, but Powell (a copywriter by profession) is able to bring across this to someone not versed in martial arts, as well as being very emotionally honest about the mental aspect of the discipline.

The prose is efficient but not captivating, but that’s not the reason for reading this. Although the main draw might be to those of hardcore martial art mindset, all about the hardness and physicality involved, it appeals to the general martial artist and those interested in sport, discussing the discipline and training and hardships, both bodily and in relationships, and the passion involved in doing something that you love.

Book review: Queen & Country novels

A Gentleman’s Game and Private Wars by Greg Rucka

Queen & Country, from Oni Press, is a great comic book series, with a complex leading character in Tara Chace, that looks at a more realistic view of the world of modern espionage, specifically the Special Operations Section of the British Secret Intelligence Service. It was a shame that the series went on hiatus while Rucka wrote these novels and ended up as one of the architects of DC’s weekly series redefining their universe, 52, but it was worth it when I read these books.

The first, A Gentleman’s Game, is the more powerful. The story involves wahibist extremists bombing the London underground – the build up and the characters detailed with an accuracy that is overwhelming. Tara is brought in for the unofficial retaliation, doing the job too well and taking out an unfortunate (but important) witness. She is cut loose by everyone except the head of the Minders, Paul Crocker, who helps her to make amends by doing another job, which she can only do by bringing in former minder and former lover, Tom Wallace, to get the job done. The power of the real-world events (researched and presented in an engaging manner) with the personal conflict and emotional aspect that happens to Tara make this a compelling read, especially for Q&C fans, but equally riveting for novices to her world.

The second novel doesn’t have quite the emotional resonance for me as the first; it tries to draw parallels to the family situation between Tara and another major character, but it doesn’t quite connect. It involves the delicate political situation in the former Russian state of Uzbekistan and its position in the war on terror and oil. Again, the detail and suspense Rucka brings to the novel make for a fascinating and exciting read, but it feels more like one of the stories in the comic book (which are excellent), rather than the ‘special’ nature of the first book, which seemed more appropriate in novel format (life-changing events for Tara and the requirement for the intimacy of prose versus the words-and-pictures combination of the comic book).

Book review: Fortress of Soiltude

Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem is the story of Dylan Ebdus, the son of an artist (who constantly works on a hand-painted film that no one will ever see, but supplements his income by painting covers to sci-fi books he doesn’t even read) and a free-spirited woman who leaves them when he was young after forcing them to live in Brooklyn and go to public school (comprehensive) like she did. The first two-thirds of the book is the story of Dylan’s youth in Brooklyn – his life (in the 1970s) in the neighbourhood, how he befriends Mingus Rude, son of the famous soul singer Barrett Rude Junior, how he survives being one of three white kids at school. During this time, he is given a ring that provides the wearer with the power of flight, which leads to he and Mingus trying to fight crime. Later, he goes to a better school after doing well at his exams, hooking up with other clever white kids and seeing less of Mingus. The book turns when Mingus goes to jail for manslaughter for killing his grandfather, a former preacher who had gone to jail himself, who was threatening Mingus’ father (who had succumbed to doing nothing more than cocaine and falling asleep), and Dylan goes off to college. In the last third of the book, the narration changes from third-person description to first-person retelling, as Dylan related how he was dropped from his college, went to Berkeley, then became a music journalist, leading him to pitching a film about the Prisonnaires to Dreamworks. During this time, he sees his father awarded at a convention for his artwork, and visits Mingus in jail for the first time, where he considers springing him through the use of the ring.

The book is written very lyrically, the knowledge and research is so exact as to make everything more real, and the characters are very three dimensional. The details and the authenticity makes the book come alive, even though it is mostly about a young boy growing up in Brooklyn. As with life, it doesn’t necessarily translate into gripping reading, and the book ends without any real resolution or reason. The odd the change in narrator two-thirds of way into book is quite disruptive; the first part feels very autobiographical (with distancing effect of third-person narrative allowing clarity and depth) but then feels bit more pretentious with the first-person narrative.

(In educating myself about the author and the novel, I learnt a new word that describes the book: bildungsroman – ‘novel of education’ or ‘novel of formation’ is a novel that traces the spiritual, moral, psychological, or social development and growth of the main character from (usually) childhood to maturity. The German language has a word for everything, doesn’t it?)

I kept reading the book as I felt an empathy with a lot of the aspects it was recounting (I was lightly bullied at school, but nothing compared with Dylan; the comic book references: ‘You said you would read X-Men as long as Chris Claremont wrote it.’; the soul music and birth of rap). However, although I cared about lead character (mostly when he was a child), I didn’t have the overwhelming urge to pick the book up and read it, as it seemed to go on forever (which is the only way to capture a life).

It comes back to the literature versus a story arguement for me; I didn’t have a passion to wade through the prose to discover what is unfolding, compared to the overwhelming urge to find out the outcome of, say, the Thursday Next stories or the His Dark Materials trilogy. It’s a dense read, with small print and lots of pages, but it’s not about the amount of text; I loved reading Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, and that was 1000 pages of dense, Victorian-style prose. I felt that, however eloquently Lethem captured the sense of reality of Dylan’s existence on the page (which he does – he is an excellent writer with a talent for description and an elegant turn of phrase), I wasn’t reading a story that DEMANDED telling, a story that HAD to be told to other people. I can only conclude that I prefer the story-related directness of genre books (I am currently reading Charlie Huston’s Already Dead and I am having a whale of a time) to the exploration of human existence and emotions. My loss, I guess.