I don’t necessarily believe in third time is the charm approach and after the first two reads by this author I had all but written him of, but then you stick an allosaur on the cover and I’m all like, sure, why not, let’s try this.
And sure enough…awesome. This was actually awesome. I would have never guessed it was the same author. The wit, the charm, the humorous turns of this book…where was this in Walking to Aldebaran or Firewalkers? Or is it that the rule is to just avoid the author’s books that have walk in the title? Either way, this was lovely. I don’t have the easiest of relationships with time travel stories, though I do try. This one was randomly enough read immediately following another time traveling novella, but this one definitely blew Time Was out of the water. Though to be fair, apples and oranges. In fact, this may be the best time travel story I’ve ever read. For reals? For reals. Loved this one. And how can you not? Just listen…at the end of time there lives a man and his pet allosaur. The man is a self stylized farmer (albeit with plenty of robotic assistance) and a self appointed minder of time travel. Because time travel is dangerous and people have screwed with it enough, there was an entire war about it, The Causality War. The past got all sorts of messed up and one man has had enough. And so he waits for the intrepid souls who make it that far and then feeds them to his clawed and feathered friend. It sounds like a great plan. Mostly because it’s so functional and reasonable and practical. But then a wrench, a giant wrench, gets thrown into the works. A possibility our protagonist has been so steadfastly working to avoid has suddenly proven to be a potential reality. It’s something terrible, something unimaginable, it’s a…future. And there it is, a time traveling comedy of errors about best laid plans, casual murder and even romance. Turns out a perfect life can only exist in a vacuum, otherwise reality will always intervene. And then it’s all about rolling with the punches. And boy, is it fun to watch these guys roll. It’s all fun, really, so much fun, oodles of fun. I really enjoyed this book. So much so I now don’t know what to do about this author, how to rank him in my mental catalog, a man is either very diverse or prone to an occasional excellent surprise. Either way, though, this was a great read. Recommended.
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Wow, did this novella get a lot of nominations and awards. Were they deserved? Well, that’s a difficult question to answer, but this is definitely the sort of book that would. Not only is it highly literary (I’d go as far as to say overwritten at times in a very poetic sort of way), but it also featured a pair of gay lovers and LGBTQ representation is very hot right now, although seemingly confined to science fiction.
I’ll be the first to admit time travel stories trip me up. They don’t always logistically line up along the curves of my brain. This one, more or less, did, to its credit. This is primarily a love story about two men who aren’t so much time travelers as they are victims of time traveling. It seems that they get thrown through time, from one war to the next, occasionally reuniting, but mostly trying to stay in touch through letters secreted away in a specific book. In present day England a bookseller finds one such communique and sets off on a quest to find out all he can about the timetorn lovers and his role in the grand scheme of it all. Outside of all the jumping through timelines (and if that annoys you, imagine what’s it like for the protagonists), it’s really a lovely, melancholy sort of story. I didn’t love the writing at all times, but appreciated its beauty all the same. The historical twist to the time travel scenario was terrific, but the one of the bookseller’s involvement was fairly predictable. Overall, this was a fairly enjoyable read and a very quick one. Time was and time will be again for a love story. Some say, the only story worth telling. Some say… I first discovered Chaon ages ago, most likely due to his immediately proximity to the ever so excellent Chabon on the library shelves. Two very different authors, but both absolutely terrific. I loved Chaon’s books and binged out. And was very excited to get my grabby mitts on his latest through Netgalley.
The thing is, thought I knew what to expect and Chaon totally subverted all my expectations in the most awesome way. Instead of the heavyhitting slice of life dramas, he pivoted to produce this thoroughly excellent kinda sorta apocalyptic paranoid off grid adventure. Mind you, there’s still plenty of drama. The main plot is technically dramatic at its base…a lone traveler (not just through the winding roads, but through life itself) finds out he might have a daughter and that she might be just one of the many offspring he’s got from his days of donating sperm. But that’s too reductive of a description, too insufficient for the sheer wealth and splendor of the tapestry Chaon has woven with this book. There’s his spellbinding world building of the eerily plausible near future America, there’s the fascinating cast of characters that his multi aliased protagonist has to deal with, the past he is driving away from with every mile, the increasingly unreasonable and dangerous present, the uncertain future. The conspiracies, the twists, the ever so awesome doggo companion. It’s such a terrifically texturized book, never a flat map, always a topographical one, of all of Will’s travels on and off road. And it’s such a pleasure to read. There’s still all the emotional realism and engaging immediacy one might have come to associate with the author, but it’s playing out on a much larger, more intricately composed field. It’s a great book, it’s got all the things one looks for in a great book, outside even of the peculiar yet undeiniable multilayered charm of its protagonist. A perfectly immersive reading experience. The book you don’t want to put down, think about it when you have to, can’t wait to get back to. You know, that one. I make my way through a lot of books. Tons, really. And Sleepwalk stood out easily as the best book I’ve had the pleasure to read in ages. Recommended. Thanks Netgalley. I’ve read the author before. It didn’t make an especially positive impression, but guess it wasn’t terrible either, so I figured I’d try again. Just now I’ve gone and revisited my old review of his other book and I remember nothing about it, at all. Then again, it’s been years. Thing is, I probably won’t remember much about this book either after a while. Which isn’t an outright condemnation of it, it’s simply to say it isn’t the kind of thing that etches itself on one’s memory and certainly not at the rates I read.
Actually, it took me quite a long time to get into this book for the sheer fact of not liking any of the characters. And then I realized that what the author was doing was that Ruth Rendellian thing where you have unlikeable characters doing unpleasant things to each other but in a strangely compelling fashion. Everyone’s guilty of something, everyone’s got secrets, everyone’s desperate and lonely and tragic. It’s the darker side of dark psychological fiction. Going by the afterword, it sounds like the author was in a really dark place writing it and it shows. And the thing is…I quite like that sort of thing to read now and again. It’s a confirmation bias read, playing in oh so nicely into a misanthropic worldview. And so this is essentially a book about two people of the desperate, lonely, tragic variety who, along with their dark terrible secrets, get brought together by fate and circumstance. One needs a tenant i.e. company, one needs a safe shelter i.e. a chance to reinvent himself. There’s ugliness they both hide from, physical and otherwise, lots of it. A toxic brew, for sure, and it simmers and simmers first on two individual burners (spilling over and splashing others) and then in a combined pot and then boils over in an appropriately tragical manner. That’s the book, essentially. Vague as the description may be. Vague is probably best anyway, make for more surprising plot twists, of which there were few. A very dark, very bleak read, but a well executed atmospheric one. Oodles of drama. Some suspense too. Read if you’re in the mood. Thanks Netgalley. There’s something tragic about how desperately Ruth Ware tries to be the new Agatha Christie. I mean, she doesn’t need to, she’s already immensely (some might say undeservedly) popular in her own right, but she just can’t seem to help it. Mind you, my first read by Ware was The Turn of A Key, which didn’t give me this impression, but then I finally got to her debut and it was blatantly obvious and spelled out. Ware tried to write the And Then There Were None. \
She failed lamentably in Dark, Dark Wood, but with this book, her sixth and latest, she got closer. Still failed, because the goal is inherently flawed. And Then There Were None is as good as it is partly precisely because it was the first of its kind. It introduced an entirely new premise. Reworking it now and adding hip modernistic spin on it doesn’t change the fact that at best the final product would be a mere pastiche. But the thing about obsessions is that they are not innately reasonable or rational. And if one gets obsessed with recreating a masterwork of the genre, one will try. And try. And try. There’s no hiding it, the title itself is a sort of ersatz And Then There Were None and, of course, Christie’s book has had its fair share of controversial titles (as discussed in Dark, Dark Wood) so that’s a story in itself. Next, Ware got the number right. Dark, Dark Wood didn’t have enough people, here she did the correct number…ten. Then Ware returned to snow, because getting people snowed in Dark, Dark Wood apparently wasn’t enough. And this time she snowed them in properly, avalanche in the ski country properly. And then the bodies begin to turn up. To Ware’s credit she didn’t make the solution to this mystery as ridiculously easy and obvious as she did in her debut. But still, it isn’t that tough to figure out and moreover the author herself can’t wait to tell you, so she dos the grand reveal almost three quarters of the way in and then proceeds with a very, very, very drawn out denouement. Someone knows how to hit their page counts. Mind you, Christie managed to tell a much more exciting story in just 272 pages, but as I’ve mentioned, this is merely a pastiche. The plot involves a bunch of obnoxious millennial tossers of a popular music app fame who come together to make some tough business decisions over a skiing trip. They are perfectly groomed, soulless pretty cardboards, tv ready and hip to a fault. The app concept itself isn’t the dumbest idea as far as these things go (you get to listen to the music another person’s listening to in real time), though they plan to make it complete sh*t by introducing GPS software that would enable you to narrow down user’s location. Which is insane, considering how many celebrities use it and no one ever explains why this would be a good and marketable idea. But at any rate, the app and its app people have an opportunity to sell out for a pretty buck or quid, since it’s British. And they are at odds about it. Nothing a murder or two can’t solve, really. And to foil those telegenic tech geniuses there are Erin and Danny, the people whose job it is to host, feed and take care of the guests. Alternatively, it can be said their job is to be the voice of reason. Erin actually does the bulk of it since she is one of the two main narrators, the other one being Liz, the meek and quiet minority shareholder and a complete outsider to the culture, the only one out of the app people who doesn’t belong. Since no one checks weather reports prior to booking vacations, the second everyone gets to the ski lounge, the extreme weather begins. And then the murders. Because blood looks so good against the snow, presumably. A very ski centric novel. Skiing is a weird thing, one I can never understand the appeal of. The forbidding weather, the cumbersome outfits, the speeding down on sticks and planks. But people go for it, especially ones of the pretentious variety, like the characters in this book. So there’s a very good chance this might be the best ski themed murder mystery there is, but it is by no means the best murder mystery out there. And it’s nowhere near Christie’s. Nevertheless, Ware is a very, very popular author, her books are forever out at the library and it’s easy to see the appeal. She got the genre down, from pacing to dynamics to every cliché there’s to hit, she works the formula well and produces easily digestible fun thrillers. And so while I do think she is considerably overrated, I’d probably read more. And maybe one day she’ll come into her own with enough conviction that she won’t try so obviously to emulate other authors. That would be great, actually. But probably not, though. People get set in their ways, especially when their ways bring them wild commercial success. At any rate, that’s the book. Quick fun read, but does leave a lot to be desired. It stands to mention I knew nothing about this book going in. I didn’t know it was a redux, spun off the original, which was a comic that went along with the author’s band concept album. I don’t even know that much about the author outside of Umbrella Academy, which is notably one of the few books extant that fared infinitely nicer as a tv adaptation. I know he was in My Chemical Romance, but that knowledge is academical, not fan based.
But the thing is, he does write comics like a musician. They have that certain energy. This one’s all hip, punk and angsty and the characters riffs like guitar chords, but outside of that manic frantic tonal arrangement, this wasn’t that great. It was fun, but not great. Killjoys are one of many gangs that exist in Way’s comic universe. Years ago they’ve abandoned their wild ways and went on a straight and narrow. The main character, Mike (who looks exactly like one of the older kids on Stranger Things or maybe/likely he’s meant to look like Way himself), these days is working at a grocery story, seeing the love of his life dying in his arms proved to be too much excitement in his past life. But then some excrement hits the fan and Mike gets the gang together and they go back to their old ways of cruising and bruising and silly getups. Like a music video, in a way. One of those that are made to look like short movies. So the story wasn’t exactly for me, but art was pretty good. Way teamed up with yet another Brazilian artist, it seems, and the result is a wild, retro styled technicolor ride that wouldn’t be out of place in the 80s. Overall, it was entertaining enough and read quickly. I’m not in love, the chemicals aren’t being fired up for this romance, but it was a decent diversion for about 60 minutes. I wasn’t in love with book one, but the show’s great, especially season one, so I figured I’ll continue with the graphic novels, see how they develop. And sure enough, this one seemed like an improvement…or maybe I just knew what to expect.
Book two follows along some though not all of the threads from the second season of the tv show, but again, it’s striking to see just how much unrealized potential gets left behind. Something you might not have noticed until Netflix came along and realized it for their show. And that says a lot too, because Netflix isn’t exactly known for their quality and interestingly enough this is by far one of their best shows, along with Stranger Things. Also, interesting to read this to compare all the differences. The main one being Vanya as the lead. Vanya who’s barely in book two at all. Vanya who is mostly a victim and is mostly manipulated by various powers that be. In the books Rumor is the female lead. Also, in the books everyone’s white. Netflix went a long way to diversify the cast for the modern audience. It doesn’t end there, but at any rate, this was a perfectly fun read. On to book three. Umbrella Academy is one of those odd books that are superior as televised. Books one and two were decent enough in their own right, quicky superhero family sort of way, but nothing special. Which is why there were only two books, probably.
But then the Netflix show came along and I’m guessing someone decided to cash in on its success and brought the comics back. And really, they shouldn’t have. Outside of some weird nostalgic factor, outside of the business marketing decisions, outside of giving its creators something to do and some more money to make, this book doesn’t need to exist. Kinda harsh, sure, but not inaccurate. Maybe it’s been too long in between, who knows, but this book was kind of a mess. It was too busy, too hyper, it jumped in a million different directions. Even the art, although familiar, wasn’t quite the same. We live in the time of comebacks. Mostly, tv shows. All of that nostalgia driven drivel is lamentable. Things have their time and place and should have the good grace to stay there. There’s plenty of new excellent programming, there’s really no reason to exhume the old and try to pass it for new. It’s very much the case here. You can’t stand in the same river twice. It won’t be the same river and you won’t be the same you. Why that doesn’t apply to entertainment remains a mystery. So anyway, this wasn’t a terrible book by any means, especially for fans. But it isn’t great either and, frankly, you should just watch the show. If you do opt for the book, this was a very quick read. For me Todd McFarlane is the guy who does the awesome action figures and collectibles first and comics second. Which, is of course, not at all right, because he’s a huge comics guy. Moreover, I remember Spawn, albeit vaguely, the cartoon, the movie. Just never found it to be as impressive as McFarlane’s figurines. Those are pure art with magnificent attention to details. I’m proud to own some of them.
Spawn the comic, well, not really pure art, not really magnificent, not in my opinion anyway. It’s decent enough, albeit not overwhelmingly original by any means. Al Simmons, a former military man, a former assassin, a former husband of Wanda, dies and ends up making a deal with the devil to come back. It’s very romantic because he does it for love, but he doesn’t read the small print and ends up with the wrong end of the stick. Now he’s got no face, no skin, but superpowers and a costume with chains and spikes. So he can’t really make a play for Wanda’s affections, because of his appearance and because it’s been five years and Wanda’s now married to his former best friend and they have a baby girl together. Plus…whenever Al, who was black while alve, turns into a regular person, he’s inexplicably Caucasian, of a blond surfer boy variety to boot. So it’s all kinds of messy. Now Al’s all kinds of sad and mad. Might just have to learn earn to enjoy his Spawn persona. Fight some crime. Right some wrongs. Do battles with some evildoers and McFarlane throws some creepy ones his way. So that’s how it goes with this book, that provides the character’s origin story. It’s very violent, very graphic, McFarlane seems to relish the fact that he created a superhero who isn’t afraid to kill. There are some nice visuals. But outside of that, there isn’t much here to wow the readers. Or at least not this reader. Nothing special, but fun in a sort of retro way now and decent enough of a read. And now for something completely different…and I mean, completely different. No matter how much science fiction I’ve read, this intergalactic voyage definitely stood out. So even if it wasn’t mindblowing and even if it was definitely an acquired taste you gotta be in the mood for it sorta thing, you can fault it for not being original.
Just how original? Well, the short answer is very. The language alone…is so, no pun intended, trippy, it takes a while to get used to. It’s almost poetic in a way, in a nonrhyming very strange way, that is. It does have an actual plot under all the wackiness and weirdness. A female astronaut named Quiver and her twitchy glitchy robotic sidekick named Mic travel through space to a planet Trafik. Quiver is obsessed with some mysterious redhead she saw in her dreams, Mic is obsessed with Al Pacino, among other things. Both of them spend time discussing random pop culture sort of things and reminiscing about the destroyed Earth. The entire thing is very strange, but oddly charming. And very brief too. Maybe 90 minutes. This is important to mention, because any longer and it would potentially overstay its welcome and the weirdness would become tedious. But at only 124 pages, it manages to maintain its novelty. Not sure how to categorize this…maybe quicky sci fi. But at any rate, it’s an interesting sort of oddball. And kinda funny too, at times. Obviously, going by the reviews, not for everyone. But if you’re looking for something different, something completely different…this’ll do. |
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December 2023
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