There is a whole lot of fun and a whole lot of excellence packed into this "Complete" audio collection of X Minus One. I use the quotes a touch ironicThere is a whole lot of fun and a whole lot of excellence packed into this "Complete" audio collection of X Minus One. I use the quotes a touch ironically here because this collection isn't quite complete, which makes me a little sad, but considering that some of the best episodes got replayed in this collection just as they did in the Fifties, I'm not going to hold the missing episodes against the collection.
As with any old time radio collection, there is some inconsistent quality when it comes to performances, and X Minus One struggles with an added level of inconsistency when it comes to the quality of the adaptations from Sci-Fi short stories to Sci-Fi radio plays, yet this collection doesn't suffer from these inconsistencies as much as something like CBS Radio Mystery Theatre does. And the audio quality of this collection (especially considering the episodes were all recorded in the '50s) is superior to most of its brethren.
I don't feel any great need to single out stinker episodes, but I do want to mention my two favourites: "The Tunnel Under the World" by Fredrik Pohl and "Saucer of Loneliness by Theodore Sturgeon. The former is a famous enough work to make Tom Shippey's fantastic collection, The Oxford Book of Science Fiction Stories, and the latter is so perfectly touching that I want to adapt it for the stage my own self. Even if you don't listen to this whole collection, I urge you to hunt these two tales down on the web. If you love old time radio, I think you'll be happy to listen to them both....more
I don't know what possessed me to actually buy this book. I don't often pay attention to recommendations from my many book apps and sites (including gI don't know what possessed me to actually buy this book. I don't often pay attention to recommendations from my many book apps and sites (including goodreads), trusting, instead, friends and folks whose taste I admire, but I saw the ugly, toxic, choo-choo train cover and felt compelled to click some link somewhere and read the plot summary.
I think I found out at that point that Keith C. Blackmore was a Canadian author, so that probably influenced me. I remember thinking, too, that the cover of The Majestic 311 reminded me of one my favourite repeating billboards in my many Trans-Canada journeys, a billboard trumpeting the awesomeness of The Minnow Trap (a truly awful book by some goofy writer from Northern Ontario), and I thought The Majestic 311 would at least be some trashy fun to take my mind off all the serious books I've been reading. But even then I shouldn't have been convinced enough to spend the money on The Majestic 311, yet I did and much to my surprise I didn't just put it on my "to read" pile and let it languish for five years. I opened the cover and started reading.
Awesome decision.
I love The Majestic 311. It really defies description, but let me try one out without spoilers: a gang of Canadian train thieves finds themselves in the wrong train one cold, wintry, Alberta night, and that train takes them across the universe and back again. Or something like that.
The Majestic 311 started out feeling like an old black and white Twilight Zone episode, blending Western and the supernatural, then it turned into an 80s mash-up of Slasher & Western movies before becoming a full out Bizarro novel before morphing its tone to the New Weird before shifting to full-out Sci-Fi before giving way to John Carpenterism then eventually winding up in a sort of Rod Serling's Night Gallery double twist ending. I never knew what was coming next, what was waiting from train car to train car, and I loved every second of it -- much to my surprise. I loved it so much that by the time I made it about two thirds of the way through the book I had to slow down my reading just to savour the remaining story.
I'm not sure how many people I know would love this book as much as I do, but there is no denying Blackmore is a solid technician and a fiercely imaginative author. I'm already nearly finished the first book in his Zombie series -- Mountain Man -- and I can't see myself slowing up. Blackmore's writing is just too damn entertaining.
There is one sad thing about The Majestic 311, though. I have been dreaming of starting to record audiobooks, and I was going to beg Blackmore to let me narrate The Majestic 311. Turns out that audiobook ship has sailed. Too bad. Back to dreams of classics, I guess. ...more
A sequel in the tradition of The Empire Strikes Back, Brandon Sanderson's The Well of Ascension delivers a middle chapter that starts in crisis, weaveA sequel in the tradition of The Empire Strikes Back, Brandon Sanderson's The Well of Ascension delivers a middle chapter that starts in crisis, weaves its way through crisis, and ends in crisis -- brilliantly so.
The only way to say what I want to say without giving away plot, however, is to focus on character and what Sanderson does with his cast, so here are five important characters from Mistborn's second book that deserve some lip service.
Vin -- : We might as well begin with Sanderson's remaining -- and main -- protagonist (after the death of Kelsier at the end of Mistborn, Vin's all that's left), and the role that every young actress hungry for a career defined by an epic franchise should be hungering for. Vin enters The Well of Ascension a wounded animal, finds her footing through a torturous crucible, thinks she's fulfilling her destiny, then ends The Well of Ascension as a wounded animal all over again.
There were times in the course of the story when I would read a chapter and go to bed angry, thinking that Sanderson had finally undermined his hard work with Vin, then I'd get started the next morning, and I would be reminded that I am too quick to underestimate Mr. Sanderson because Vin would be going through precisely the emotional reactions her character had to go through to move on, and my trust, which I had let be shaken, would be reestablished, and I'd be pissed at myself for doubting.
She is one of the great fantasy characters, and the fact that amazon is pissing away money on ridiculous Lord of the Rings prequels instead of pumping their billions into Sanderson's living breathing work, especially with a character like Vin sitting there to be played by someone just hungering to be great, is a travesty.
Sazed -- : The Terrisman, Vin's most trusted crew member, the eunuch with the Ferromancy memory and the academic bent, the bravest of Kelsier's crew -- defying clan, country, genetics, a god emperor, and his heart -- the potent touchstone of the Mistborn Trilogy, finds and loses love in The Well of Ascension, finds and loses his answers, finds and loses his battles, yet comes out the other end like a Star Wars droid: carbon scored, torn apart, but somehow in working order and ready to support his mistress for the next step in her journey.
Breeze --: If Jack Black doesn't play him in a live action version of this story I will be pissed. I could say more, but why?
The Koloss --: Okay. They are a they, so not A character, but they are a collective, so together they feel like a character. The Koloss kind of came out of the mist without warning. They are a force of messed up megaloids. They are born with all the skin they'll need, they are blue, and as they grow (through killing and violence) they fill their skin with muscle and sinew and fat, and eventually they grow beyond their skin, splitting their skin and seeping blood over their blue dermis. They're "gross" (I'm quoting my daughter there), and they are key to the story.
I hated them when they appeared, and they made me doubt Sanderson as I am wont to do, but by the end of The Well of Ascension I lovedd them, and my doubts were, again, put to rest.
Zane --: Then there is this fucking guy. I can't tell you a whole hell of a lot without spoiling things, but he is just crazy enough to be exactly what Vin needs. He loves her, he hates her, he doesn't give a shit, and he is almost her match -- until he isn't. Oh! Zane ... I almost loved you buddy. Until I didn't.
p.s. Marsh is awesome too.
p.p.s. This book took so long to read because I literally read all but he last 60-ish pages in the shower. I'd go in, let the water hit me and read two or three or ten pages, depending on what I felt like that day, then put in my bookmark and leave it until the next day. I love books in the shower, even if they become swollen logs by the end....more
My brain is working in two directions when it comes to Keanu ReevesBRZRKR, vol. 1. The first has to do with the man himself and the second has to do My brain is working in two directions when it comes to Keanu ReevesBRZRKR, vol. 1. The first has to do with the man himself and the second has to do with the story. I'll talk about the latter first.
The Latter -- A stew of violence that mixes Highlander, Wolverine and Conan into one frothing broth of bloodiness, BRZRKR, vol. 1 doesn't even come close to matching its ingredients for tastiness, but that doesn't mean it is inedible. It may not fill you up on a Saturday afternoon, but it'll give you some sustenance and make you keen for a little more to eat. It helps that Keanu is the model for the beserker in question, B, because it becomes much easier to picture the live action version of the tale (which is in the works at Netflix), adding a little extra spice to the stew. Yet it remains difficult for me to give it a high recommendation. It's a diversion. A bloody, mildly interesting, well drawn, decently scripted diversion. But not much more.
The Former -- What I think is far more interesting is the other thoughts -- the thoughts about Keanu Reeves -- that BRZRKR, vol. 1 has conjured in me. Maybe I am wrong about the cultural moment that imagines Keanu as the finest, kindest, most down to earth star imaginable. Perhaps the narrative doesn't exist and I have merely imagined it, but without seeking anything out about Keanu, this is what I "know": that he is currently praised for dating someone who is age appropriate (and *GASP* even has grey hair!), that he is widely seen as a good man because of the simple way he lives his life, including his use of public transportation, that he is praised for being kind on sets, a pleasure to work with, and respectful of all the cast and crew (but shouldn't that be the bare minimum for all of us in every job?), and that he seems to have a total lack of ego. As I say, I could be wrong about this, but that is certainly the image of Keanu that I have osmosed over the last little while.
But having read BRZRKR, vol. 1 I can't help wondering if he is as amazing as we all seem to think. Some of those assumed positives I mentioned seem to have humility all wrapped up in them, but how much humility can a man have when he is writing about an indestructible demi-god and then adding his own face to the character? I'm going to venture ... not very much. And what about the idea that Reeves is a simple man, living well beneath his means? If that is true then Keanu has money to burn, so why on earth does he need a Kickstarter campaign to produce his pet project? He raised over one million dollars from fans, but surely he could have hired his collaborators and paid for publication on his own dime, without asking for money from hundreds of thousands of folks who surely have a fraction of what Keanu has.
Then there is his movie career. There are some cute parts mixed in, and some parts that are heavy on kindness, but most of Keanu's career has seen him as a purveyor of violence, often ultraviolence. From Johnny Utah to Neo, from Jack Traven to John Wick, Reeves plays violent killers, albeit violent killers with style, and now, with BRZRKR, vol. 1, Reeves has penned his own ultraviolent killer to make all of his other ultraviolent killers seem like Smurfs by comparison.
The Keanu Reeves we imagine should be using his superstardom to break down the Hollywood obsession with violence rather than reinforcing the obsession, but here he is giving us another "hero" who bathes in blood. None of this means that what our culture seems to think of Keanu Reeves is wrong. He may be all those things I mentioned before, but BRZRKR, vol. 1 suggests that he is much more complex than we seem to be convincing ourselves he is, and maybe what we need to recognize that this current myth of Keanu Nice Guy Extraordinaire is just that -- myth.
I kind of swore off Fantasy about ten years back. I still enjoy rereading Guy Gavriel Kay's books when I have a fantasy Well ... that was unexpected.
I kind of swore off Fantasy about ten years back. I still enjoy rereading Guy Gavriel Kay's books when I have a fantasy tickle that needs to be dealt with, but the serious Fantasy that makes everyone else so excited these days just makes me cold.
Last year, though, I found myself working as a script supervisor for the writer's room of a Fantasy T.V. series (despite my current cooling on Fantasy, I was a huge fan in my younger years and was thrilled to be working in a genre I once adored), and the head writer and I started talking about our love for cool magic systems. I professed my love for the Congery of Mordant's Need, and he gushed about Allomancy, convincing me that I should give Mistborn a chance. I remained skeptical, and even though I started the series (because I love and trust Zack), and read a page or two in the shower every day, it took me forever to get going, which was much more about me, my biases, and all the other books I was reading than about Mistborn.
About two weeks ago, and half way through the book, when the magnificent Vin was being humiliated once again at a ball, I decided to move The Final Empire out of the shower and into my every day life. I finished it quickly, even having to slow myself down to savour what I was reading, and now I am genuinely sad that it is over, but stoked that there are sequels to enjoy.
I struggled to write this review because I simply can't cover everything that I loved about this book, so I have decided instead to talk just a little bit about what brought me to the book in the first place -- Allomancy.
I think it is wrong to call Allomancy or its sister system, Feruchemistry, magic systems, and because of that I also don't really consider Mistborn a fantasy novel. I would go so far as to call it a Sci-Fantasy, having more in common with Star Wars, for instance, than Lord of the Rings. The Allomantic system, after all, has an unassailable internal logic. The "burning" of metals by the Allomancer to tap into that metal's power is in no way supernatural in the classic magic system sense. It has much more in common with Marvel's mutants (specifically Magneto) and their genetic mutations, than it does with the classic wizard memorizing from a spellbook or magically endowed rods, staves or wands pumping out spells because they just have the power we are asked to accept.
Allomancers have to practice, they have to get their metallic mixtures right, they need pure metals, they run out of their powers when their metals are burned away. It all makes pseudo-scientific sense, and it is, for my money (and in full agreement with my head writer) one of the most original power systems ("magic" if you must) that I have ever encountered. No matter what else Brandon Sanderson does in his already impressive career, I am sure that nothing will beat the creation of Allomancy and Feruchemistry.
Hmmm ... perhaps the creation of Vin and Kelsier? or Obligators and Steel Inquisitors? or ...? Whatever. You get the picture....more
While Book Three of Saga of the Swamp Thing doesn't include my favourite Swamp Thing moment (that has to be Abby and the Swamp Thing's consummation inWhile Book Three of Saga of the Swamp Thing doesn't include my favourite Swamp Thing moment (that has to be Abby and the Swamp Thing's consummation in Book Two) nor my favourite Swamp Thing arc (that is still the Floronic Man Green vs. Red arc from Book One), it is, perhaps, the most consistently excellent of the Moore years so far -- and it does contain my favourite single issue: "The Curse."
It begins with the creepy "The Nukeface Papers," wherein Swamp Thing begins to understand the breadth of his powers. It is a tale where the horror of 80s environmental concerns take the shape of a nuclear waste drinking bum, who inadvertently "kills" Swamp Thing. The eco-criticism at the heart of this arc -- which includes newspaper clippings from an imagined coal mining disaster juxtaposed with real world 3-Mile island articles -- is particularly chilling considering how little those dangers have changed since 1985.
It continues into a creepy Vampire arc, where a clan of Vampires and their horrifying Vampire Queen -- a morbidly obese, bloated carrier of countless fishlike Vampire eggs -- live beneath the still waters of a manmade lake, a lake that sprang up over an old town because of a dam project. Again, ecological concerns are firmly in place, but the macabre kookiness is in the frightening progeny of the Vampires and the bizarre way Swamp Thing deals with their presence.
Next up is "The Curse" -- a werewolf story with an extended menstruation metaphor that is a shockingly prescient scream of patriarchal ubiquity.
Then the book wraps up with a zombie tale, wherein the roots of racism have sunk themselves into the earth surrounding a Louisiana plantation, and then those roots reveal the ease with which others can find themselves engaging in racism despite their belief that they have moved beyond such things.
Add to all of this brilliance the dirty, nicotine stained fingers of John Constantine (looking as he did for so many of his early years as Dune-era Sting), and Book Three of Saga of the Swamp Thing is a high point for the Moore-Bissette-Totleben collaboration. ...more
I feel no guilt at all that my second favourite character in all the Star Wars Universe is Ahsoka Tano. I love Han Solo the most -- always have and alI feel no guilt at all that my second favourite character in all the Star Wars Universe is Ahsoka Tano. I love Han Solo the most -- always have and always will (and he knows) -- but you may be surprised to hear that my second place finisher is not even a close run contest. Ahsoka is my second fave by a considerable distance.
And if Rosario Dawson ever plays Ahsoka in some live action incarnation of Star Wars, Harrison Ford will finally have some true competition for my Star Wars heart.
All this to say I am heavily predisposed to love this anything about Ahsoka, and my bias should be noted as I move forward into gushing territory. You may not agree with my gushing, and you may even make great arguments for your position, but I can't imagine anything you say can change my mind.
Yes, I loved this book, absolutely. I bought it in hardcover and fully intended to read it the first day it arrived, but then I heard that Ashley Eckstein -- the actual Ahsoka Tano from Star Wars: Clone Wars (which remains my second favourite Star Wars property after Empire, and what I credit for reviving my opinion of the Prequels) -- was reading this book, performing her coolest character, and I shelved the hard cover and carved out some time to listen instead.
That may have made my bias complete because hearing the real Ahsoka reading her own story meant that if there were problems in this tale, I wasn't hearing them. I was just absorbed by the voice of Ahsoka, backed as she was by John Williams' music and the entire sound effects library of THX, which was the perfect audio setting for a simple tale of Ahsoka finding her way after her self-imposed exile from the Jedi, from the overwhelming loss of her Jedi family and Clone friends at the end of the Clone Wars, from her attempts to hide from the newly formed Empire while trying to find a path to her own future, and in many ways from herself.
E.K. Johnston does a fine job of placing Ahsoka in the greater Star Wars universe, offering flashbacks and side journeys that connect us to some of our favourite classic characters. We see the birth of a movement; we see the birth of tragedy; we see the birth of Fulcrum; we move from Clone Wars to Rebels with the hint of may more amazing Ahsoka adventures just waiting to be told.
I hope Johnston keeps going with this amazing character. But what I really wish for is for Disney-Lucasfilm to stiffen their spines and give us the coolest solo movie they could ever make. ...more
Increasingly, I find the popularity of the Empire disturbing.
The fact that cosplayers dress as Stormtroopers in massive numbers, that there are plushIncreasingly, I find the popularity of the Empire disturbing.
The fact that cosplayers dress as Stormtroopers in massive numbers, that there are plushy Darth Vaders for sale (or cute little kid Vaders starting their parents' cars with the force), that our girls are meant to look up to First Order ultra-thug Captain Phasma (and it's supposed to be a positive step forward for women in general), that Empire aesthetic is cool, and that we now have peeks into the making of the Empire's greatest criminals, peeks which humanize them and make them at least somewhat sympathetic (as James Luceno does) is at the heart of this disturbance.
It is a massive shift from the way we consumed Star Wars in the seventies and eighties, the time when the Empire was seen as universally evil and beyond redemption. Now, however, the Empire has become only sort of bad, and members of the Empire are impressive for their power, their loyalty, the conviction, their military brilliance, their embracing of order.
It seems to me that this is all a reflection of the shift in our society, in our world of Forever Terror War. So a book like Tarkin, that I might have admired forty years ago as providing some balance to the black and white of the Star Wars universe, feels now, instead, like a tiny part of a greater movement in our culture, wherein the Tarkins and Vaders and Emperors are, once again, to be looked up to and understood as inspirational figures, figures of authority that we should bow to, whose decisions should be accepted, regardless of what those decisions would mean for us (and do mean for us) in the real world.
I am not saying this well, so I will try and boil it down.
Something in me feels more and more that Tarkin (and his Star Wars cronies) are slowly becoming peoples' heroes, and that scares me. Genocidal maniacs are not to be honoured and revered, even if they are fictional. They should be feared and reviled....more
My healing as a Star Wars fan has come a long way since my trip to the theatre for my final kick in the balls at the booted foot of Revenge of the SitMy healing as a Star Wars fan has come a long way since my trip to the theatre for my final kick in the balls at the booted foot of Revenge of the Sith. My tender testes put up with a whole bunch of abuse from Episodes I-III, and I thought I'd never be able to fall in love again, but much to the delight of my healing privates that fall is happening again.
I have two reasons, and both of those reasons have to do with the Expanded Galaxy of Star Wars and nothing to do with Star Wars itself.
Reason #1 -- This has nothing to do with Outbound Flight, but bear with me. Clone Wars, the animated series run by Dave Filoni, is better than any on-screen version of Star Wars barring Empire Strikes Back. If you've not seen any of them or only watched the first few episodes, you have missed out on a wonderful piece of filmmaking. It expanded the Anakin Skywalker story in just the ways I hoped it would, made his fall from Jedi glory understandable and sympathetic, and it introduced us to some of the coolest characters anywhere in the Star Wars Galaxy: Ahsoka Tano, Cad Bane, Hondo the Pirate and Asajj Ventress. I love all for of them as much as I love anyone in the movies (with the exception of Han, Lando and Chewie), and I would be willing to bet that my kids' favourite characters in Star Wars spring from that group (Ahsoka for Scout, Cad Bane for Beans, and Ventress for Te).
Reason #2 -- For much the same reason, I adore the work Timothy Zahn's been doing, for quite a while now, in the Expanded Galaxy. He has created characters as cool and important and worth knowing as any in the official films. Jorus C'baoth (arrogant, dickhead Jedi Master), Mara Jade (bad ass guard to Emperor Palpatine and wife-to-be of Luke Skywalker), Talon Karrde (smuggler, gambler, scoundrel, so what's not to like), and best of all Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo (the eventual Grand Admiral Thrawn). All of these characters are fantastic additions to the Galaxy, but it is the last -- Thrawn -- who I most want to see on screen.
Thrawn, when written by Zahn, is a tactical genius of autistic levels without the problems. He is cultured, suave, able to overcome Darth Sidious' hatred for aliens, honourable, kind, willing to make the pre-emptive strike, loyal, pragmatic, occassionally bellicose, and uncompromising when it comes to success. He is, in short, one of the most complex charactes anywhere in the Star Wars Galaxy, and I will read anything about him.
In Outbound Flight we're lucky enough to get two Thrawn tales, the larger origin of Thrawn's entrance to the Galaxy proper -- a tale of Jedi aggression, Sidiuos manipulation, and Thrawn master -- and a smaller, even cooler tale called "Mist Encounter," wherein an exiled Thrawn takes on the Imperial Navy, a pack of Storm Troopers, smuggling his way abourd a Star Destroyer and into the Imperial Navy for his troubles.
These tales might not be great literature, but they are great entertainment, and I think they are essential reading for anyone who still fancies themselves Star Wars fans after all these years. ...more
Han Solo and the Lost Legacy is the last of the original Han Solo trilogy published way back between 1979 and 1980. The Indiana Jones movies began to Han Solo and the Lost Legacy is the last of the original Han Solo trilogy published way back between 1979 and 1980. The Indiana Jones movies began to appear in 1981. Keep those dates in mind.
Why? I'll get to it right now. Perhaps it would have been better to name this book Han Solo and the Temple of the Crystal Skull.
I was reading along -- at a slow, slow pace since I had other things to read -- when Han Solo sucked me in for a final reading push with a major divergence from what had become the Han Solo adventure formula. He's riding across a lake on the back of a giant dinosaur-like sauropteroid alien, who just happens to be a ferry on the planet Dellalt, when he looks up into the mountains, throws aside his hunt for the Millenium Falcon and embraces the hunt for treasure he's been on because he's struck by an idea. (Can you see the light bulb over his head? I could).
So off he goes with Sallah ... um ... Chewbacca and a bunch of their adventuring partners, including a pseudo-love interest named Marion ... er ... Willie ... er ... Ilsa Hasti. I couldn't help myself. I flicked back to the cover and what did I see but the fucking Crystal Skull ... uh ... the Crystal Death's Head mask, the symbol of Xim, the Almighty Badass Tyrant of Dellalt. Next thing you know, Indy Han and his friends are being captured by the Ugha Tribe the Survivors in their mountainous temple. Then Mola Ram... um ... some nameless Survivor takes over and prepares them for sacrifice. Fast forward to Club Obi Wan ... the mountain top altar, where Han and Chewie figure out a way to escape. Chewie grabs a giant metal gong, decorated with the Paramount Pictures Logo ... er ... The Crystal Skull ... uh ... Xim's symbol and some runes, and he uses it to deflect all the blaster bolts and projectile bullets as the whole crew runs to the edge of the cliff -- and they jump off. But Chewie sees a chance to make a better escape, so he turns the Airplane's Life Raft ... uh ... Xim gong into a sled, and they all go on a huge toboggan run down the snows of Xim's mountain. Whew! But just as they reach a long flat run and it looks like they are safe ... BUMP ... they hit a bump that throws them off another cliff, and they fall into raging river a giant drift of powdered snow that cushions their fall. No village elders greet them, I'm afraid.
Now I'm not saying that George Lucas is a thief. Surely he would never steal ideas from other places for his own movies. And even if there are similarities between stories in a world full of stories, well, that is inevitable, isn't it? It's must be coincidence that Brian Daley's Han Solo and the Temple of the Crystal Skull has such a strong resemblance to set pieces and plot points in those other Harrison Ford vehicles. And it's probably coincidence, too, that this instalment of the Han Solo Trilogy is the weakest of the bunch. All coincidence.
It was still lots of fun for me, though, despite the journey into Professor Han Jones and his wonderful world of grave robbing. Too bad the Gallandro thread had to end the way it did. I'd have loved to see a whole bunch more of him. ...more
Think back to that first time we see Han Solo in the Mos Eisley Cantina.
We've a bar full of "scum and villainy" in a desert town with some swaggering Think back to that first time we see Han Solo in the Mos Eisley Cantina.
We've a bar full of "scum and villainy" in a desert town with some swaggering Federales (a.k.a. Stormtroopers). We've the big, mute(-ish) sidekick. We've local hicks seeking out a gun-for-hire. And we've a bounty hunter about to bring our pseudo-hero in alive (somewhere), or dead if necessary.
So our gunslinger leans back in his chair, preps his gun, and casually and remorselessly blows away the bounty hunter. The archetype is clear. Han Solo is a "space cowboy."
There's still some of that in Empire Strikes Back, yet he's already a bit more like Shane -- the retired and reluctant gunslinger -- and it's pretty much all gone by the time he's out of carbon freeze in Return of the Jedi.
Never fear, though, space cowboy, gunslinging, bad ass Han Solo is still on full magnificent display in 1979's Han Solo's Revenge, and thanks to Brian Daley's robust telling, Han gets to wear the cowboy as a second skin.
Solo shows off his piloting (riding) skills in a couple of breathtaking chases. He gets into some dirty-fighting hand-to-hand combat, dishing out bites and head butts whenever required. And he even winds up in a duel (which ends in a nice little twist) with a classic, moustachioed interstellar gunslinger named Gallandro.
Sounds good, doesn't it? It is, but there's more.
If you like Han Solo as he is meant to be, you will love Brian Daley’s Chewbacca. Forget the cuddly oversized puppy dog, this Chewie is the Wookie of legend -� a furry behemoth who really is capable of pulling people's arms out of their sockets. He is a kick-ass first, don’t bother asking questions kinda Wookie, and it is easy to believe that he’d be an intimidating character hovering over Han’s shoulder.
So if you want a Han Solo tale that tells it like it was, that offers Han as he was meant to be, Han Solo’s Revenge is for you. And if you think it is better that Greedo shoots first you need to stay away, and I am sorry, but there is no cure for your affliction. ...more
I am not sure why she couldn't simply have finished her story before the Star's End adventure happened (but I haven't finished her book either. I paused my reading so that I could read Daley's book, so I will return to her book tonight), but since I had the Daley books handy, she nudged me into reading the source of the interlude, and it would have been better for Crispin's Han Solo if I hadn't been diverted.
See my Han Solo love runs deep. It burst out fully formed in 1977 when I watched him blow away Greedo, then nonchalnatly toss a credit to the barkeep, saying, "Sorry about the mess." My Han Solo was a genuine criminal. A drug running, pragmatic, mercenary S.O.B., whose only redeeming qualities were charm, skill and loyalty. And it was the latter which would lead him into becoming the only Star Wars character with a genuine arc. Come Empire Strikes Back, Han Solo found himself sucked into the Rebellion with a burgeoning love for Leia and a feeling of responsibility for Luke. Once there his other natural gifts flourished, and he began to change in a logical, believable way. He slowly became a "good man."
Unfortunately, much of that was undermined in Return of the Jedi when Solo began to make decisions that made no sense at all -- like giving Lando, his betrayer, the Falcon, behaving like an idiot schoolboy in his relationship with Leia, and behaving like a knob everywhen else (and it didn't help at all that Lucas had Solo dispatch Boba Fett through sheer luck rather than ruthlessness or skill).
The message of Return of the Jedi (particularly when coupled with Lucas's later decision to have Greedo shoot first) was that Han Solo was weak, and he'd always been a good man. He just hadn't been surrounded by the right people. And that's the Han that AC Crispin loves and embraces. Don't get me wrong. That Han's okay, and I was enjoying reading about him. And Crispin genuinely loves that Han. But that Han is not my Solo, and I miss the character I fell in love with as a kid.
Crispin led me back to him, though.
He is fully present in Daley's Han Solo at Star's End. A little more hard SciFi than contemporary Star Wars books, along with clunkier dialogue and a heavy reliance on space tech, the first in Daley's trilogy was published in 1979 -- one year before Empire Strikes Back appeared on screens -- and it breathes freely without the density of the now massive Star Wars canon. So Daley's Han Solo is the original Han Solo. His Han Solo is still the Han Solo who would publicly execute a bounty hunter without remorse, and go charging after a pack of stormtroopers at the heart of the Empire's ulimate weapon.
And what does this original Han Solo do in Daley's book? Well, he cares first and foremost about his ship, which is right and proper; he cares next about Chewbacca; and these loyalties, the Falcon and Chewie, embroil him in the Star's End adventure -- not some bullshit, post-Empire apologetic idealism. And while he's busy improving the Falcon and saving Chewie from some nasty torture, he vents a traitor into space with brutal pragmatism. He kills anyone who gets in the way of his goals, and aids anyone who can help him achieve the same. He slaughters hundreds, maybe thousands of prisoners with a split second decision that is good only for him and his closest friends, then saves a droid to which he's suddenly become loyal over the course of his adventure. He does what is good for Solo, and everything else can suck his vapour trail.
This isn't just Daley's Han Solo. This is my Han Solo, and it was nice to have him back, even if it was only for one hundred and eighty pages. But now I am faced with the prospect of returning to George Lucas' butchered Han Solo in the hands of AC Crispin. A Han Solo who is heroic on an epic scale, a Han Solo who takes in stray street kids, loathes slavery, and is already busy working for the Rebellion without even knowing it, and I am pretty sure it isn't going to be anywhere near as fun as it was before I was sent off to read Han Solo at Star's End.
Nice job, Crispin. Whatever star rating you receive for Rebel Dawn will be all your fault. ...more
Rebel Dawn would deserve ★★★★� stars for the clever and entertaining way A.C. Crispin works us to the moment when Han meets Luke & Obi-Wan, if only ..Rebel Dawn would deserve ★★★★� stars for the clever and entertaining way A.C. Crispin works us to the moment when Han meets Luke & Obi-Wan, if only ...
Rebel Dawn would deserve ★★★★ stars had it not claimed to be a Han Solo book. The interesting part of the story, what actually drives the tale along, is the fascinating battle between Jabba's Desilijic clan and Durga's Besadii clan. For the bulk of this book, Jabba and Durga appear to be protagonist and antagonist. This book would have been really good, if only ...
Rebel Dawn would deserve ★★� stars as a romance. The love story of Bria Tharen (rich girl turned religious junky turned Rebel leader) and Han Solo is okay, probably more than okay if you're into grocery store romances, especially if one ignores what it does to Han's growth as a character in Episodes IV & V. There's tension, there's betrayal, there's stupidity (and not on the side of Han, which is refreshing), and there's some love too. This would have been an interesting tale, if only ...
Rebel Dawn really wouldn't deserve ★★ stars under any circumstances (well ... I suppose if I had just finished a nice bottle of red wine after a yummy meal I could muster that extra star). Aaaah, if only ...
If only A.C. Crispin had left Brian Daley's Han Solo Adventures alone. But she didn't. For a bizarre ninety-nine pages, over a quarter of this book, Han Solo is nowhere to be seen because he is off in the Corporate Sector and Tion Hegemony having genuine Han Solo (and Indiana Jones) adventures.
For three chapters, Crispin turns her final Han Solo novel into a Lando Calrissian-Bria Theran-Boba Fett-Jabba the Hutt-fest, and the only glimpse we get of Han is a crappy, italicized encapsulation of Daley's novels (okay, we do get a glimpse of Han in those ninety-nine pages). That's not what I signed up for, and it pissed me off.
And it wasn't necessary. There must have been a way to work it so that her timeline would not interfere with the timeline of the Han Solo Adventures. Surely she could have written her adventures so Daley's fit between her books. The big problem, though, is that Daley's books are BETTER. They are more fun. They are better representations of the Han Solo that I love rather than the Han Solo of Lucas' "fixes." And they are actually about Han Solo rather than all the people he will meet in the movies.
But Crispin forces the juxtaposition between her books and Daley's. Her interjections of Daley's plots pushed me to interrupt my reading of her books and read his instead. And every time I finished one of his books, I hated this final Crispin book more and more. � star is all this is worth now. No matter how good some parts of this novel were, Crispin damaged my enjoyment too deeply by begging me to compare her to Daley. Bad call, Crispin. I'd like to think it wasn't yours, that you were forced into it by Uncle George. It wouldn't surprise me, but it wouldn't make a difference to my rating either....more
This is one of the greatest comic book story arcs ever told.
It has early, rough around the back-hair Wolverine. It has Cyclops at his leadership best.This is one of the greatest comic book story arcs ever told.
It has early, rough around the back-hair Wolverine. It has Cyclops at his leadership best. It has Colossus and Nightcrawler and Storm -- the Russian, the German and the African woman -- at their eighties expectation-blowing pomp. It has the Hellfire Club, the Avengers (embodied by Beast) and the Shi'ar. It has Angel and Professor X. And it has Jean Grey - Phoenix - Dark Phoenix.
Did I mention it has Jean Grey - Phoenix - Dark Phoenix? It does.
It is perfect but for the end. I mean perfect.
Chris Claremont is one of the all time great Marvel writers. His dialogue works, his plotting works, his mind scores multiple hits when it comes to what needs to be said and done. He was the Hitchcock of the Marvel Universe. And his partner was John Byrne. I don't know what tastes are today. I don't care. What I do know is that John Byrne's art spoke to me like no other's. Byrne was a Calgarian (my home town) and he gave birth both to Canada's greatest hero -- Wolvie -- and our greatest superteam -- Alpha Flight -- but he also pencilled some of the greatest sequences in comic history -- and the Dark Phoenix saga was the best of them all.
I hated the ending (and all its humanist drivel), but the rest of the story was unparalleled. I am so glad I reread this after rereading Secret Wars. I would have hated the reread of the latter if I'd reread the former first.
Now, though, I must take a break. If I were to read another comic now, it would suffer by comparison, and there is no way I could be fair. The Dark Phoenix Saga is one of the best stories ever told. What a shame they fucked it up in the X-Men movies. I'd have given anything to see it done right. ...more
Three stars is all I could muster, but I did have fun with this book. It was a great way to rest my brain after finishing Solzhenitsyn's Cancer Ward. Three stars is all I could muster, but I did have fun with this book. It was a great way to rest my brain after finishing Solzhenitsyn's Cancer Ward.
★★: This was the finest episode of Corellia 90210 EVER! I had no idea until rereading this that Young Han Solo was actually played (at least in the mind of A.C. Crispin) by a Young Luke Perry. Bad boy Han hanging out with the richies from Corellia (some family, and some family of the girl he loves), and he's so handsome and dashing and such a great surfer (oops ... pilot).
+�: Han himself was pretty damn groovy. You can tell that Crispin really has an affinity for his character (or else a love for Harrison Ford), and she delivers a pretty satisfying childhood full of Oliver Twist-y incidents (can you say F8-GN? Clever name for a droid, eh?), abuse at the hands of a bounty hunting bully, and believable dreams of becoming an Imperial Officer. There are some disappointments though ...
-�: ...and those come with the language Han uses. Yeah, yeah, Han says "Sweetheart" plenty in the Trilogy, but does he have to say "Honey" and "Sweetheart" so bloody much? I'd say know. And if I had to read about how "scruffy looking" he was one more time I would have thrown the book across the room (then dutifully picked it up and continued).
-★★: Did Han really need a giant black tiger man as his sidekick/bodyguard? Muuurgh was cool enough, but he was so blatantly a replacement for Chewbacca, and so cheesily a part of another "utopian" society being oppressed by the Empire, that I was more than a little pissed. I was a lot pissed actually, and with Han already spending time with his foster mother, Dewlanna (a fierce old Wookie woman who dies for his freedom), I thought there was more than enough Chewie related idiocy for one book.
+�: But Coruscant was super fucking cool. I kept waiting for a Replicant to leap out from behind a building and break Deckerd's fingers.
+★★�: And I really loved the spice processing planet of Ylesia. The fact that most of the book was set there, with its weak-ass Hutt overlord, Zavval, its Exultation inducing Rhino Priests, the T'landa Til, its Glitterstim factory, its uber-fungus and mud pits, and "High Priest" Teroenza's museum of galactic artifacts -- giving Crispin a chance to weave in some Indiana Jones -- it was a fun place to spend my fantasy hours for a couple of days. I am not entirely convinced the T'landa Til were as "evil" as Crispin wanted them to be -- even for slavers -- but they were still a good set of antagonists for Han.
-�: There was no need for the Princess Leia cameo. Enough of the fangirl crap already. :P
So ... lots of fun, and I'm very glad I gave this a second read. Candy for the brain is good.
Egyptian legends. Bloodthirsty giant felines that spring from common household cats. An über-Cat apocalypse. Armies on the ropes. Only one man who hasEgyptian legends. Bloodthirsty giant felines that spring from common household cats. An über-Cat apocalypse. Armies on the ropes. Only one man who has the key to save what's left of humanity. There was real potential here for a seriously fun B-movie, Golden Age of Hollywood style story, or at the very least, something so bad it was good like an Ed Wood Z-movie.
But nope. Jersey Shore musician Johnny Flora's novel is more like an N-movie -- nowhere near good enough to be good and not bad enough to be great.
The fault is in Flora's penchant for exposition and the fact that every character in the book, from an Egyptian neurosurgeon turned world saver to an African American national guardsman to the President of the United States (named Clancy. A tip of the hat to author Tom?), is another version of Johnny Flora.
Exposition first. For the first 53 pages, Alasham (the aforementioned neurosurgeon) listens to his grandfather, Arim (a famous Egyptologist), go on and on about the legend of Zalanon. We hear of ancient battles, Pharaohonic egotism, a plan to save humanity from a future of global warming and overpopulation, all as the two men sit static on the Giza Plateau and bake in the midday sun.
This is when "show, don't tell" would have been a great benefit to the author and reader alike. A prologue with all of that action, with Zalanon and Ramses and Cleeves and Bastet and Zagusah, all doing what they did to force the coming of the über-Cats, would have been a magnificent B-movie beginning. Then, BAM, we could have been thrown into the present where Alasham's grandfather is dead, and Alasham reveals to us that Arim entrusted him with the scrolls and the secret to saving humanity from the Spell of Zalanon.
But nope. We watch the grass grow, then skip twenty-five years to the day of reckoning and the über-Cat apocalypse.
Now the characters. I am going to talk specifically about Alasham. He is a highly educated, Egyptian neurosurgeon. He lives in San Diego when the real action begins, and he has been living there for 25 years. Still, his formative years, the first half of his life, were spent in Cairo. Yet here's how he thinks:
Their restless behavior was the prequel of an impending attack. The landscape was covered with these predators like onions on a T-bone steak. There were more lions on these hills than hippies at the Woodstock festival, except they weren't there for free love. I felt like Davy Crockett looking out of the Alamo at the vast Santa Anna army that hopelessly outnumbered his brave Texas militia.
Quite the string of similes, and a string that is hard to imagine in the brain of an Egyptian neurosurgeon. Not a medical or North African reference in the bunch. And exactly twenty pages later a completely different character, an American military Captain, thinks this: "He couldn't help but feel like Daniel Bowie [sic] at the Alamo as he looked at the fear in the expressions on their faces." Really?! Two men from totally different cultural backgrounds are going to think about the Alamo when the odds are against them. Oh well, at least Flora got the details right.
But nope. It was Jim Bowie at the Alamo, not "Daniel Bowie." And it wasn't "Crockett's ... brave Texas militia," but Bowie's then Travis' men who were hopelessly outnumbered. Surely that's a one or two off, though?
But nope. He even implies that the American Civil War predated Napolean's Hundred Days:
In all of history no battle would be more violent and ferocious, not Gettysburg, Waterloo, or the Invasion of Normandy.
And nowhere in there does he mention any battle from WWI. I admit these are personal annoyances, but when they are added to The Spell of Zalanon's other problems, they are unforgivable.
As is Flora's constant confusing of there - their - they're. As are his lack of punctuation and apostrophe errors. As is the Liger.
Did I say Liger? Yep. I sure did. Sekhmet, a bad ass Egyptian cat-goddess takes the form of a 2,000lb Liger., which could have been silly fun if the rest of the story had achieved its B-movie promise. But in the end it was just silly.
If only The World House had been an episode from The Original Series of Star Trek. I'd have liked it much, much better, although I did like it enough If only The World House had been an episode from The Original Series of Star Trek. I'd have liked it much, much better, although I did like it enough (surprise, surprise) that I intend to read the sequel. I know ,,, I'm a sucker.
STAR TREK NEXT VOYAGE
KIRK: Captain's Log Stardate 3634.8. After finishing our eventful shore leave on Argelius II, we received orders from Starfleet to return immediately to the Terran System. Months long subspace negotiations between the the Daimoni and the Federation have been interrupted by the sudden onset of an inexplicable cosmic disturbance. Before the Daimoni will return to discussions to officially join the United Federation of Planets, we must discover the source of this strange occurrence and set things right. Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Lt. Pearce -- our old Earth historian and weapons expert -- and I will beam down to heart of the disturbance and do our best to put things right.
INT. ENTERPRISE BRIDGE. WORKING HOURS
SPOCK looks over his shoulder from the direction of his science station.
SPOCK: The temporal disturbance is increasing, Captain. I recommend that immediate action be taken.
KIRK punches his console, and speaks:
KIRK: Dr. McCoy, Lt. Pearce, meet us in the transporter room.
KIRK rises and heads to the lift.
KIRK (CONT'D): Mr. Scott. You have the bridge.
SCOTT (crossing to the Captain's seat): Aye, sir.
Pausing before the lift, KIRK waves SPOCK through the doors.
KIRK: After you, Mr. Spock.
EXT. OLD EARTH. ALLEYWAY. DAY
BONES crouches over the body of LT. PEARCE, checking her vitals with his medical scanner. He looks up.
BONES: She's dead Jim.
KIRK stares spitefully at ASHE, a gun wielding, elderly man in a fedora and raincoat, whose gun is trained on the Captain.
ASHE: I'm afraid you're next, Captain.
SPOCK: The box you hold, Captain, is the heart of the temporal displacement.
KIRK (holding up a non-descript wooden box with Chinese characters): This box?
ASHE: That box, Captain.
ASHE pulls the trigger and the gun barrel flashes.
MONTAGE
CAPTAIN KIRK drops from a ladder to avoid a giant, vicious snakes, then shoulder rolls to avoid its strike. He fights a creepy chef in a gleaming kitchen, delivering a double axe handle to the base of the CHEF's neck. He trudges through the snow only to kill a deadly polar bear with his phaser.
END MONTAGE
INT. WORLD HOUSE. CORRIDOR. LATE DAY*
CAPTAIN KIRK and ASHE are engaged in a heated discussion with CARRUTHERS, a world famous explorer, and PENELOPE, a beautiful woman from the twenties.
KIRK: "Ashe has witnessed these events from a dual perspective: he was there as a younger man and ... as an old man. ... So it all comes down to whether his foreknowledge will be enough for him to change how things occur this time."
ASHE: "And, therefore, how they will have occurred."
KIRK: "It's a paradox."
PENELOPE: "As always, darling, you make sense only to yourself.
PENELOPE stands on her tiptoes, and KIRK embraces her in a lingering, closed mouth smooch.
EXT. ENTERPRISE IN ORBIT
ENTERPRISE orbits earth to the sound of Alexander Courage's theme.
This is the backstory: here's Vlad rising to power and meeting all his powerful allies; here's Vlad doing his first wet work and disappointing his fatThis is the backstory: here's Vlad rising to power and meeting all his powerful allies; here's Vlad doing his first wet work and disappointing his father; here's Vlad learning witchcraft, casting cool spells and learning from his beloved Noish-pa (his grandfather); here's Vlad becoming the Vlad readers know and love.
And as backstories go, Taltos is perfectly satisfying, especially for me because I love Sethra Lavode, Morrolan, and Aliera, the Dragonlords who become all important to Vlad Taltos and his adventures in Adrilankha. This trio, together with Vlad, his loyal familiar Loiosh, and his wife Cawti are a crew of unparalleled bad asses, and it is absolutely criminal that we haven't seen a filmed version of their adventures yet (I am guessing we never will, which blows goats).
Still, we have our imaginations, and Steven Brust has a way of sparking mine into life whenever I dive into the head of Vlad. He always brings a smile to my face -- and even an occasional snort of laughter. His sharp wit, world weariness, annoyance at being underestimated (although half the time he just thinks he's been underestimated when he's been estimated just fine), and general swagger make him one of my favourite sci-fantasy characters, so this time I have decided to press on into the books I've not yet read, from Phoenix on, rather than taking a break and restarting for a fifth time. I owe it to myself, to Vlad, but mostly to Mr. Brust who always feels a bit like an unsung hero of my personal canon.
Love you, Steve. Thanks for Vlad and Loiosh, and all the rest of this richest of worlds. ...more
I dug Albertan England, but the changes from the Victorian England I am familiar with were too outrageous, too far beyond what even my whacked-out imagination could accept.
I dug the loups-garous, but there were too many of them, and their spontaneous wolf-man combustion was one pseudo-Sci-Fi step too far for me to suspend my disbelief.
I dug Sir Richard Burton and Algernon Swinburne, and even Speke and Palmerston (plastic face and all) were tolerable, but throwing in Charles Darwin, Florence Nightingale, Ismabard Kingdom Brunel stretched my ability to cope. But even that wasn't enough for Hodder. No, no, no. He had to give us a newsboy, nicknamed Quips (so clever), who just happens to be a young Oscar Wilde. But even THAT wasn't enough for Hodder. Nope. The revelation of Wilde's identity came upon his first meeting with a poet named Algy a couple of paragraphs away from the books only use of the word "perambulator." Fuck off.
I dug the "new novella" at the heart of the tale -- Part Two: Being the True History of Spring Heeled Jack -- and would love to have seen all of Hodder's energy poured into that history. As a novella, it might have been nearly as good as H.G. Wells' The Invisible Man, but then there's Part One and Three and the Conclusion and the Appendix, and there is an excess of plot and action that is just begging to be streamlined and morphed into a radio play (odd, I know, but I kept hearing the story in my head with the crackling overlay of an old-time radio). I wanted to mess with it and adapt it, or beg Hodder to keep it simple and short, but he was too in love with his own cleverness, and that hurt the literary experience (if not the entertainment experience).
I dug The Mad Marquess and even dug his Mr. Belljar alter-ego, but the way he became the damn dirty ape of Burton's nightmares was ... well ... lame because of everything (such as Ms. Nightengale) that was required to make it work.
I dug Spring Heeled Jack, and I loved the way we watched his loose-ends tie up, but I wanted him to be smarter than he was. Perhaps that's not fair, though.
I dug how Burton finished the tale and made a timeline shaking choice based purely on his selfish desires, but I don’t buy for a second that it was required. The timeline was already irrevocably fucked. Still, "heroic" brutality was refreshing, and it made him feel more like James Bond than Sherlock Holmes.
I dug most of the technological steampunk elements, but I grew thoroughly weary of the eugenic steampunk elements. Again, Wells did it better when he was writing straight up Sci-Fi in the Victorian Era than any steampunk writers can do today when they ape the era for their stories. Herbert George, what would you make of steampunk?
I dug the hint of more tales with Burton and Swinburne, but I think I would rather spend some time in Damascus with Isabel Arundell instead.
I dug The Strange Affair of Spring-heeled Jack, but it was too much of a good thing and not enough of a great thing, and the only way to get to the great would have been to decrease the good because too much good winds up being just okay.
I wonder if Burton and Swinburne will take on Jack the Ripper next? Seems appropriate, and what would the Ripper be in a timeline so fantastically altered? That could actually bring me back to Hodder's Albertan past. I'll cross my fingers and toes....more
There are three reasons why I love The Magic of Recluce: 1) it's not like the Star Wars movies in one crucial way; 2) it is built around training rathThere are three reasons why I love The Magic of Recluce: 1) it's not like the Star Wars movies in one crucial way; 2) it is built around training rather than adventure; 3) woodworking.
1) Not Star Wars: There is a line in Empire Strikes Back where Yoda says, "A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, NEVER for attack." There is no equivocation in that. It is NEVER for attack. Pretty simple, I would think. Yet the movies are packed with our Jedis on the offensive, including Yoda in the prequels. I wanted to believe Yoda. I wanted it to be true. I wanted Luke's confrontation with Darth Vader in Bespin to be as much a mistake because of its offensive nature as it was a mistake of his youth.
I've debated and discussed this with many over the years, and one of the most frustrating excuses for the movies is that "there is no other way." I've always argued that there is another way, and that the failure to embrace that other way is a terrible failure of the films and its creator (I am fine with using the violence of attack as an answer, so long as the great guru of our hero doesn't say that it is NEVER for attack). But my argument has been written off as mere theory because while I have argued that there is another way all I had was my assertion that there was. Now I have The Magic of Recluce. Where Lucas fails, Modesitt Jr. succeeds. Where Luke Skywalker fails, Lerris succeeds. Where the flawed use of force fails, order succeeds by letting chaos destroy itself.
Lerris doesn't need big weapons. He actually breaks his own staff at one point and uses a shield as his "weapon." Lerris spends the novel disarming people, avoiding people, protecting people and attempting to bring order to the chaos around him. And there is no loss of excitement in the story. Big action be damned.
2) Training: I am a big sucker for training stories. It has always been one of my favourite aspects of war movies (raw recruits becoming soldiers), martial arts movies (ninja and samurai mastering their weapons), and sports movies (especially the crappy baseball team going back to basics). I suppose it is because I like to learn and I like to teach, but it is also a wonderful tool of storytelling because it breathes life into characters very naturally. Character development must happen. There is no avoiding it when a character's raison d'etre is to change. And here, in The Magic of Recluce, Lerris is learning from the first page to the last, even when he is bored, even when he is seeking, even when he is teaching and even when he is just riding his pony. Lerris learns and that is good.
3) Woodworking: This may seem like an odd reason for loving the story, but the woodworking is quite a beautiful addition to The Magic of Recluce. It grounds our hero, is key to his search for his place in order and chaos, links him permanently to the land of his birth and provides him with an occupation when times get tight. And it is the latter economic use of woodworking that I liked best.
Fantasy novels and their characters rarely worry themselves with anything as mundane as money. Even the poorest farmboy turned hero just goes out in the world and has everything happen for him. There is some early testing adventure that puts him in danger, and when he walks away from it he has a full purse and food just falls into his lap whenever he needs it (either because he is an accomplished hunter or everyone's happy to give their food away). Not for Lerris. He makes his way through the Easthorns after a last ditch escape from Jellico and finds himself short on food and short on funds. So what does he do? He gets himself a gig as a journeyman woodworker and spends a good third of the novel becoming a master builder. This, of course, does much more for him than simply providing money (it is probably the most important part of his personal training), but to see a hero concerned with the day to day difficulties of living pushed The Magic of Recluce into rarified air for me.
It is a damn good novel, but the woodworking? The woodworking makes it great. ...more
Loading...
