J.G. Keely's Reviews > The Anubis Gates
The Anubis Gates
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A fairly common mistake made by authors is failing to be familiar with their genre. They end up retreading old ground and relying on long-dead cliches because they aren't aware of what's already been done. So, it behooves an author to get some familiarity with the genre he intends to work in, to ensure that he isn't just writing the same old story over again.
In that spirit, I thought I'd check out this award-winning early piece of Steampunk. It was a rough start. One of the first red flags in an author's prose is how often they use 'almost', 'seemed' or worst of all 'almost seemed' in their descriptions and metaphors. Such words are meaningless filler, and are usually a sign that the author is not comfortable with his own figurative language, or is trying to seem mysterious without really knowing how to do it.
We're barely a page in before Powers gives us 'a musty fetor . . . almost shockingly incongruous when carried on the clean breezes of Hampstead Heath'. Almost shockingly incongruous, but not actually shockingly incongruous. But, if it isn't actually shockingly incongruous, why not tell us what it really is like? Why use a phrase that almost describes the situation, but not quite? What is the benefit to this imprecision?
Of course, in most cases, it is just 'shockingly incongruous', and the 'almost' just happened to slip in there for no reason at all.
From there we move on to the conflicted metaphors:
"His cloak flapping behind him in the wind like the wing-case of some gigantic insect"
'Like some' is another meaningless phrase to look out for in figurative language. It's meant to sound mysterious, but really, it's just filler. Beyond that, to anyone actually familiar with insect wing-cases, this metaphor just doesn't make sense, because wing cases are rigid and during flight. They don't flap. In the case of the scarab, which I assume Powers is trying to evoke here in his Egyptian magic story, they're also shiny.
Also, why does it have to be a 'gigantic' insect? Because he's a person, and people are bigger than insects? Figurative language already has that covered. If you say 'his gaze darted about like a viper's', you don't have to continue 'but a viper with hair, and external ears, and lacking scales, and also much larger than a normal one, and with limbs and no tail, and without the capacity for natural poison'. There's a reason that explaining a metaphor that way is often done as a joke--it's simply not necessary.
Here's another one:
"[The tent] looked, thought Fikee, like some huge nun in a particularly cold-weather habit, crouched beside the river in obscure devotion."
Can you picture that? Does that produce a clear and effective image in your mind, or a rather confused muddle? For me, it was definitely muddle. These two metaphors appear on the same page, along with another one about a smile being 'like a section of hillside falling away to expose old white stone', which isn't so bad, but that's a lot of trying-too-hard similes to cram on just one page.
Next page.
"Romany intoned, his voice becoming deeper as though trying to wring an echo out of the surrounding carpets"
'As though' is another vague little bit we want to be careful about when we write. I don't think the verb 'wring' works there at all. Are you imagine someone twisting carpets (with their voice) in order to try to squeeze some extra echoes out of them, because that's what this description paints into my mind, and it is not remotely working.
A few pages on, and we break suddenly into a long stretch of story exposition straight from the narrator about all this stuff that happened before, to set up the story. So, why start off with a mysterious intro where your characters are mumbling odd references to events, if you're going to explain them all a few pages later? That's a pretty quick way to kill all the mystery you had just been trying to build up.
Then, the characters themselves start delivering long pieces of story exposition to one another, even though they all know these things already!
"I'm sure you haven't forgotten how you suffered after playing with the weather at the Bay of Aboukeer three years ago."
So yeah, that's definitely enough of this book.
In that spirit, I thought I'd check out this award-winning early piece of Steampunk. It was a rough start. One of the first red flags in an author's prose is how often they use 'almost', 'seemed' or worst of all 'almost seemed' in their descriptions and metaphors. Such words are meaningless filler, and are usually a sign that the author is not comfortable with his own figurative language, or is trying to seem mysterious without really knowing how to do it.
We're barely a page in before Powers gives us 'a musty fetor . . . almost shockingly incongruous when carried on the clean breezes of Hampstead Heath'. Almost shockingly incongruous, but not actually shockingly incongruous. But, if it isn't actually shockingly incongruous, why not tell us what it really is like? Why use a phrase that almost describes the situation, but not quite? What is the benefit to this imprecision?
Of course, in most cases, it is just 'shockingly incongruous', and the 'almost' just happened to slip in there for no reason at all.
From there we move on to the conflicted metaphors:
"His cloak flapping behind him in the wind like the wing-case of some gigantic insect"
'Like some' is another meaningless phrase to look out for in figurative language. It's meant to sound mysterious, but really, it's just filler. Beyond that, to anyone actually familiar with insect wing-cases, this metaphor just doesn't make sense, because wing cases are rigid and during flight. They don't flap. In the case of the scarab, which I assume Powers is trying to evoke here in his Egyptian magic story, they're also shiny.
Also, why does it have to be a 'gigantic' insect? Because he's a person, and people are bigger than insects? Figurative language already has that covered. If you say 'his gaze darted about like a viper's', you don't have to continue 'but a viper with hair, and external ears, and lacking scales, and also much larger than a normal one, and with limbs and no tail, and without the capacity for natural poison'. There's a reason that explaining a metaphor that way is often done as a joke--it's simply not necessary.
Here's another one:
"[The tent] looked, thought Fikee, like some huge nun in a particularly cold-weather habit, crouched beside the river in obscure devotion."
Can you picture that? Does that produce a clear and effective image in your mind, or a rather confused muddle? For me, it was definitely muddle. These two metaphors appear on the same page, along with another one about a smile being 'like a section of hillside falling away to expose old white stone', which isn't so bad, but that's a lot of trying-too-hard similes to cram on just one page.
Next page.
"Romany intoned, his voice becoming deeper as though trying to wring an echo out of the surrounding carpets"
'As though' is another vague little bit we want to be careful about when we write. I don't think the verb 'wring' works there at all. Are you imagine someone twisting carpets (with their voice) in order to try to squeeze some extra echoes out of them, because that's what this description paints into my mind, and it is not remotely working.
A few pages on, and we break suddenly into a long stretch of story exposition straight from the narrator about all this stuff that happened before, to set up the story. So, why start off with a mysterious intro where your characters are mumbling odd references to events, if you're going to explain them all a few pages later? That's a pretty quick way to kill all the mystery you had just been trying to build up.
Then, the characters themselves start delivering long pieces of story exposition to one another, even though they all know these things already!
"I'm sure you haven't forgotten how you suffered after playing with the weather at the Bay of Aboukeer three years ago."
So yeah, that's definitely enough of this book.
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Simon
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Aug 24, 2013 12:43PM

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Used in the right context this one might make some sense, maybe a place where the the cloak is not flapping at all because there is no wind.

Now Keely drops this bombshell!!!
Keely's review raises an interesting question: to what extent should we be willing to forgive stylistic ineptitude in order to enjoy what is (apparently, in this case) an exciting, creative, and first-rate plot?
A couple years ago, I tried to read "Boneshaker," by Cherie Priest. The plot seemed fine, but the writing was so execrable that I chucked the book less than halfway through. One of the worst offenses was a sentence that read something like this: "Her panic was amazing."

Oh, those compound-modifiers certainly do get us writers in trouble, don't they?
Kelly said: "ALMOST as irritating as the fantasy or romance writers who have every one of the heroes in a perpetual state of eyebrow raising."
Yes! What Ren & Stimpy creator John K calls 'tude face'--eyebrow raised, half smirk--and which appears on .
"Also thanks for helping me to remove this from the to-read. It came highly recommended over the years but I was never quite excited enough to dive in."
Yeah, me too. I was all excited to get my fun story on, and instead I get this.
Akash said: "Used in the right context this one might make some sense, maybe a place where the the cloak is not flapping at all because there is no wind."
Yeah, maybe if the cloak was sort of billowing out to either side instead of flapping.
Tim said: "I don't think that you've given this book a fair crack of the whip. All of the text that you referenced and dissected is at the beginning of the book."
Yeah, though that's precisely the problem: if I'm running into this many fundamental issues before I've even finished the first chapter, that doesn't say much for the quality of the book.
"your fixation with the syntax is causing you to miss out on a very clever and imaginative story"
This isn't just syntax, it's structure, exposition, and figurative language. I mean, I can deal with an awkward phrase now and again, but three and four per page? That's a lot of slog to go through in order to get at the story.
I mean, with straight exposition like that, at what point am I just reading a plot outline full of unworkable metaphors?
Williwaw said: "to what extent should we be willing to forgive stylistic ineptitude in order to enjoy what is (apparently, in this case) an exciting, creative, and first-rate plot?"
Yeah, it's hard to say. I mean, in a case like this, I start to feel that the writing puts me off so much that I start having trouble believing there really is a good story behind it.

Or, does a problem arise only when the usage becomes repetitive?
Hah, being someone who diligently attempts to clomp out coherent sentences when writing a story, I'd like to get as much information on the subject as possible.
You see, I've noticed that nearly every author uses the term "As though," from time to time. Even some of my favorites, such as Peake, uses it every now and then.
So, I'm guessing the problem is held in over-usage, rather than the seldom use of it?


I tend to think there needs to be a good reason to have that doubt in there--why 'almost' instead of just saying it outright? The problem becomes using it thoughtlessly, without really thinking about how it affects the voice and the meaning. It's certainly something we can use effectively, if we're careful.
Subhan said: "How many pages have you read before you give up?"
Not enough to be able to discuss the ideas of the work.
"Is it really that bad?"
I think the quotes I gave speak for themselves--I certainly didn't feel like reading any more.

I still don't see the particular things that makes them bad. Maybe this is because I'm not a native english speaker. But the last part, long narrative exposition in dialogue is really bad, I know it.


Read some Orwell to remind me what exceptional writing is like today...

It's funny the little things that pop up in our writing again and again that we're not even aware we're doing--but that's what a good editor is for.
Steve said: "Needed a strong edit, by about 100 pages and a huge re-think."
Yeah, it's too bad we didn't get that version.
"How far did you get through it?"
Only about a chapter--it didn't take very long before it became too frustrating for me to want to go on.

"Standing immobile throughout the day, these vivid objects, with their fantastic shadows on the wall behind them shifting and elongating hour by hour with the sun's rotation, exuded a kind of darkness for all their colour."
Why write "exuded a kind of darkness" when you are not going to elaborate what kind? What do you think?
A few pages later:
"..for his siesta was broken sharply by a rattling of the door handle which was apparently performed in lieu of the more popular practice of knocking at the panels."
What purpose does "apparently" serve here, narrators describes things as they appear to him or to the characters, apparently adds nothing to the narrative.
In the same paragraph after some lines:
"...yet here apparently on this stifling summer afternoon was the eye of Mr. Flay.."
The opening sentence of the next paragraph:
"Mr. Flay appeared to clutter up the doorway as he stood revealed, surveying the smaller man before him in an expressionless way."
How does "in an expressionless way" work better than "expressionlessly"?
A little further:
"Rottcodd, feeling presumably that there was little need to answer such a question, shrugged his shoulders and gave his eyes the run of the ceiling."
Why is presumably used here, when at other places the narrator knows what Rottcodd is feeling? Why does he need to presume here?
On the same page:
In a voice almost inaudible Flay repeated 'The eighth day of the eighth month.' His eyes were almost transparent as though...
The master can lapse several times too, but I guess he is the master because I enjoyed reading what he had written even while searching for imperfections.

In that instance, I'd say he does elaborate which kind: a kind of darkness that yet possesses some color, not simply a black or monochromatic darkness, as often occurs in low light, but the kind that exists when bright light is laid next to shadow, in a hazy room, where color is not lost.
"What purpose does "apparently" serve here, narrators describes things as they appear to him or to the characters, apparently adds nothing to the narrative."
Well, in some instances, narration can also be playful, developing a voice which comments on the action. In this case, you could look at it as a sort of sly condemnation of rudely rattling the door handle instead of properly knocking.
"How does "in an expressionless way" work better than "expressionlessly"?"
Well, it does bounce a bit more, in terms of rhythm--I also wouldn't say it's necessarily a worse way of putting it, since it is just a restatement, not a modification of what's actually being said, like 'almost'.
"Why is presumably used here, when at other places the narrator knows what Rottcodd is feeling? Why does he need to presume here?"
Well, it could be another case of the narrator inserting a little playful commentary, or it could be a nudge in the narration toward the perspective of the person watching, allowing some uncertainty in the interaction.
"His eyes were almost transparent as though . . ."
I'm more alright with 'almost transparent', because it isn't hard to picture something that's close to transparent, but not quite. It's not like saying 'he almost looked like a French crusader', because it's hard to imagine something that almost, but doesn't actually resemble that.
I'm not saying all of Peake's uses are necessarily beyond reproach, just suggesting that there are some arguments that can be made in support of his choices.



I hope that I like the book, but hope doesn't seem to count for much when rubber hits the road.

And with so many books on my to-read list, I completely understand.

I am happy I found this review. After all, I am not a native speaker, but this shows I am not crazy either.
Ps, it is hard outer wing, or wing cover, or elytra. It can't really be a case, it is one sided...? Sorry, biologist here.

While I enjoyed The Anubis Gates immensely, I loved this review and found it very educational. Most of the criticisms spoke to me and made a lot of sense in retrospect.
I submit, however, that there IS a purpose in making the above insect be "gigantic". Large things move differently from otherwise identical small things. In my mind the flapping is insect-like but slower, heavier, deeper-sounding. (I can't defend Powers' use of the rigid "wing case" in the first place, though.)




Except I'm not talking about the protagonist's voice, I'm talking about the omniscient narration. I'm also not sure how unsurety promotes a verbose, academic tone.
"Being concise is commendable, but you shouldn't judge every book by the its adherence to the lessons of writing 101."
I never suggested that lack of conciseness was the problem--it's perfectly fine for a book to be long-winded, if the long-windedness works. My problem is that the figurative language is unsure, which causes it to lack power. The point of metaphor is to present a strong image for the reader, so if the description then descends into hemming and hawing, that's making the force of the image weaker, and for no good reason.


You don't seem to understand what 'trolling' means--it does not mean a group of people sitting around conversing about the ways in which a book's prose didn't work for them. I mean, I go through pretty basically and explain my problems with the book, so I'm not sure how that would mark me as incendiary or provoking.
I certainly couldn't speak to the originality of the plot--I couldn't get past the bland exposition and ungainly metaphors to see what kind of plot was there. However, I would be curious to hear how you define 'great prose', and how this book matches that, particularly if you have any counterpoints to the examples I lay out in my review.

Almost.




It is more like "its tires were made out of butter" thing. Ashtray in a car is marginal, language in a book is not.

The slight awkwardness of prose that so irritates JG Keely, I probably wouldn't even notice on reading the book in my normal way.
Well, fortunately there are many other reviews of this and other books, so we can take our choice of reviewers.

"His cloak flapping behind him in the wind like the wing-case of some gigantic insect"
The other sentences you cited really were awful and worth teasing, but this one, and the paragraph following it in which you describe what you don't like about it, definitely don't belong here.
First of all, using "like ... some" in descriptive language is definitely not some kind of cardinal sin of literature, no matter how many online critics say so with their chests puffed out. If we accept the (frankly bizarre) assertion that literally any words in any piece of writing that can be removed must be removed, you still have a sentence that is no shorter than it already is. What would we replace "like" with here, without changing the entire sentence around? What would we replace "some" with?
Again, I agree that the sentence is bad. The solution is probably to put the period after the word "wind," and move on, but unfortunately the author decided to add some pizzazz, and here we are.
It's one thing to personally dislike this book's style of description, and the overall prose of those who use it, but it's another to try to argue that it's somehow wrong, and that its use is a typical rookie error. Every time a critic says a writing technique is objectively bad, a book by a legendary author who uses that same technique falls off of a library shelf somewhere in this cold, cold world.
In fact, I'd like to use the same stick I'm poking at your "like ... some" complaint with to poke at the "almost," "seemed," and "almost seemed" thing you mentioned. After the other example sentences you quoted, I'm sure this author was using those words in the worst, most embarrassing ways possible, but I think it's unfair when a person reviewing a book seems to talk as if either A.) A particular author's improper use of certain words is the only possible use, and therefore those words are banned, or B.) The words themselves are banned for other reasons, and these are things that even a rookie author both knows and agrees with, the way a mathematician knows not to divide by 0.
"Almost," and "Seemed" can be used when the narrator wants to indicate exactly what those words imply: Uncertainty. Take a passage from a book that reads, "She smiled at him, and though her big grin was surely lighthearted and happy, the corners of her mouth were pulled up so high that her expression almost seemed sinister." Here, "almost seemed" is intentionally used to evoke a sense of uncertainty, so that the narrator can say indirectly that the character observing these things is uncertain, or that the reader himself should be uncertain. It raises a question without directly asking it. It's spooky. It may not be laconic enough for the sociopaths who pump their fists in the air and say things like, "I rephrased my sentence and saved 4 words!" but it doesn't have to be.
Of course, that's not how this author used "almost seemed." In fact, I feel like the example I just gave isn't something you'd consider a misuse of "almost seemed," and yet I still see people in the comments cheering you on without any apparent recognition of this discrepancy. Someone even mentioned pressing ctrl+f and finding the word "almost" in a lot of places... oh boy.
Is it so surprising that we have so many gutless authors who write Harry-Potter-level prose in service of coherent, easily-followed, but unambitious stories? One day spent reading reviews like this could've turned a 30 year old Cormac McCarthy into another Creative Writing 101 student doing his best impression of Hemingway or Vonnegut.
No thank you.
I enjoyed the rest of your review, but nothing is more baffling than a critic speaking from a position of authority on writing like this. No offense, but... if you were a good enough writer to tell other writers exactly what to do, you wouldn't be spending that energy writing about other people's books, my friend.


The Rise and Fall of DODO is a much better executed work on magic-meets-physics time travel, and the format is innovative.

Carpets dampen sound preventing echoes. This metaphor is not that difficult to understand.
"His cloak flapping behind him in the wind like the wing-case of some gigantic insect"
I am not an entomologist and I'm pretty sure you aren't either. A quick google search, though, will tell you that not all wing cases are completely hard. I am not sure what bug Powers was specifically referring to, and you can't be sure either, if he was talking about a scarab I'm sure he would have said so. I am inclined to believe it was just insects in a general sense.
But, it is not your pretensions about being the judge of what makes a proper metaphor. It is the fact that you didn't even read the book. When I start a book and can't get past the first few pages for whatever reason, it happens from time to time, I leave the reviewing to people who have actually finished the book.
After having read your 'Sister, Mother, Sea' I can see that you are not just pretentious with your assessment of metaphors, It flows all through your writing as well. You seem like one of those people who after getting turned down by publisher after publisher, instead of taking another look at your writing, will explain to everyone who will listen that "they just don't understand good writing,"
Anyways, good luck on your writing career.

However is "almost" always wrong? How often in a day do we observe something that we think or perceive "could" mean something, but we are not 100% sure? Then we would describe it as "almost" insulting, almost sinister, almost telling, almost insufferable. In describing something as almost but not quite, you are being descriptive. Like anything it could be over used, but it should not be banned outright.
I have one major problem with your review though. That is simply that most steampunk novels are intended to inspire and entertain, not be an outstanding example of higher English. I haven't read this particular book, but I have read books by authors whose grammar is lacking, and whose metaphors have tried too hard to be different. If the story was good and entertaining, then I still enjoyed those books and raved about them to others. I have also read books with exacting grammar, intellectual words not commonly used, and a sense of superiority flowing from the author that hints of contempt for the ignorant or less educated reader who might have to look up some of the obscure words chosen by the author. Quite often those stories have been stale, or rigid, or due to obscure words stunted. You either do not know what the author means or have to pause the narrative to look them up in a dictionary breaking the flow of the story. A book can be a master piece with bad metaphors, it can also be boring and trite whilst a glowing example of perfect written English.
As the book has not been submitted at degree level for English literature/language I do not believe it needs to be held up to such exacting standards. All that should matter is the story, the characters, and the level of enjoyment and entertainment. Something you failed to comment on entirely.


To quote S.R. above, "It's one thing to personally dislike this book's style of description, and the overall prose of those who use it, but it's another to try to argue that it's somehow wrong, and that its use is a typical rookie error. Every time a critic says a writing technique is objectively bad, a book by a legendary author who uses that same technique falls off of a library shelf somewhere in this cold, cold world."
This is the problem people have had with this review. Not that he didn't like it, not that he cited examples of writing he thought was bad, but because he decided to try and be the final authority on how writers should write.
He also, by his own admission, only read about a chapter. A chapter is certainly enough to tell if you aren't going to like a book, it is not enough leave a one star review and tell others why the book is terrible.
I will also say, that my initial comment on this review was, regrettably, unnecessarily hostile at points.

I agree with Russell's comments above.
Incidentally, I see that two Jonathans have commented on this review, only one of which was me.