Fantasy Reader

An intriguing book. Secret societies and conspiracy theories, written by a self-proclaimed sceptic. It did take quite a while (about 150 pages) for the pace to pick up, but once it had started, it was relentless. Hooks at the end of nearly every chapter – not a mean feat considering the average chapter length is only 4-5 pages.

It no doubt falls into the thriller category, but the intricacies of the legend relating to the Da Vinci Code and the holy grail are amazing. The thriller part of the plot, and the concluding twist that reveals the bad guy are little more than distractions. In fact the writing is not great, the characterisation is just adequate, but it remains impossible to put down. I was up until 3.30am trying to finish it, but managed to put it down to grab four or five hours sleep before finishing it.

It bombards you with facts, leaving little time to digest them. I think this helps people to accept the story as a whole. Certainly, for someone ignorant to most of what was discussed it was very tempting and easy to accept it all as truth. It is written in a way that makes it seem that all the conclusions drawn are completely rational – although I am certain that some of the assumptions are tenuous at best. The Catholic Church would certainly hope so, and the flood of books currently being released to ‘decipher’ or destroy the code certainly would pick as many holes as possible. It was only meant to be a work of fiction – but the controversial subject matter and the attacks it makes on the fundamental doctrine of the Church means that this book was destined to be a best seller. Sex and anything anathema to religion is sure to sell.

Some people use is to point to the decline in the quality of books people are reading. I think that this is possibly true; it is definitely not an intellectually challenging read. There is no breathtaking use of language, no heart achingly perfect imagery that the best books may contain. But what it did have was an exciting story, simply told, with almost perfect pacing, and everyone loves a conspiracy theory. I am not surprised that this was such a huge best seller. It is a book that almost anyone can read and enjoy. Literary novels are less widely readable. This is entertainment, pure and simple, and I don’t think that I should have to feel slightly guilty for doing so. I think that is my major problem with the pretension of those in literary circles. They can make you fell dumb for enjoying books that don’t reach there standards.

But a lot of the time I don’t want to have to think when I am reading. I don’t want to have to stop at the end of every paragraph and digest the imagery. I want to read a story. This is why I loved the initial Robert Jordan books and this is why I liked this. I see much to admire in books like Satanic Verses and Moby Dick, but the majority of the time I just want something that lets me escape easily; the book equivalent of squatting in front of the TV.

So go read this, and don’t feel guilty.

Review to come.

These are a collection of tales supposedly told to Bryce by his wife’s mother (grandmother? its been a while since I read it) about her escape from the turmoil surrounding the Russian Revolution. Her entire village is murdered, seems a lot of people have had things against Jews, and she escapes with a huge frypan strapped to her back, which saves her from several sword strikes.

She travels with a group of people who every night gather around their meager meal cooked in the frypan and take it in turns to tell their life story, and how they ended up penniless refugees.

The tales are incredible, managing to strain believability but not break it, although they are almost certainly fictitious. The story of the hardships endured does ring true, and you can imagine a group of road weary, hungry, people gathering around a meager meal and entertaining each other with tales. Legends passed on around a fire. There is something primal about that.

The stories are almost like fairy tales, and can be enjoyed as such I think. Not a life changing book, but definitely worth the read.

I left the book that I was close to finishing (The Family Frying Pan) at work, so needed something to tide my reading habit over. This filled the hole nicely, a quick, enjoyable read filled with the patented Douglas Adams humour.

It would be very easy to miss the humour in what often seems to be nothing more than random twitches of his imagination, but I think that people like Terry Pratchett and Robert Rankin would admit that they owe a lot to this guy. It belongs to the type of humour that I think of as British, on the same shelf as Monty Python and The Goodies.

For those of you who haven’t read this before, it is basically the story of Arthur Dent, who is whisked away from Earth just as it is destroyed to make way for a hyperspatial express route through our star system. I don’t lie when I say that this is probably the most feasible part of the book.

I didn’t keep a notepad with me as I read it so I missed all the cool quotes that I could have added here, but I am sure a quick net search will uncover the gems.

I have one favourite that I can quote off the top of my head, and I think it is a good indication of the type of humour Adam’s uses.

“The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.”

Not a serious read, no attempt at characterization, plot, or believability, but you are guaranteed to be giggling at almost every page.

Review to Come

Review to come (how slack have I been!!)

This book has been adapted into a two part mini-series which aired recently on Australian TV. The mini-series was quite good, and thinking that the book is always better than the show I borrowed it from a friend.

I have an interesting relationship with Bryce Courtenay’s writing; it seems that I either love it or am completely indifferent. ‘April Fool’s Day’ is one of my favourite books ever, and certainly the most powerful book I have ever read. ‘Power of One’ and ‘Thomo and Hawk’ are similarly brilliant. However, ‘Tandia’ and ‘The Potato Factory’ failed to grab my interest. They weren’t bad, merely ordinary. Unfortunately, I now have a third book to add to this list.

The TV adaptation must be applauded, it is incredibly faithful to the book, with only minor changes made, until towards the end where some of the despair is removed, to allow the audience to feel that the good guy has some reward. In the book no such reward is forthcoming. The title character faces hardship after hardship in an almost unending series of devastations.

Having watched the show I already knew the major twist (it is hardly a twist, more revealed information). What annoyed me about the book was that there was an active attempt to hide this information. I realize that any foreshadowing would probably have made it patently obvious, but I think that the correspondence shared between the two characters involved would have contained more hints if the author was being fair to the truth.

The portrayal of life in the bush in the early 20th century is probably the chief allure of the book. I think most Australians feel a kind of pride for those people who managed to make a living off the inhospitable land that they were faced with. And it is stories like these that make me think that we should be doing more to help those people. Drought is a constant problem and seems only to be alleviated by floods; added to that, they have to compete in a market place with products from the cheap labour of Asia and South America, and the heavily subsidized goods from the EU and US. I am not sure that either of the political parties in Australia is giving sufficient thought to this. The harsh truth is that there are just not enough votes in the bush, and the city folk seem to resent that they subsidise those that live in the country. I think that we need to remember that Australia came to be where it is now on the sheep’s back.

But this is meant to be a book review, not a polemic. The book is written in third person and goes constantly through rapid POV changes. While this is handled with skill and there is seldom confusion as to whose eye’s we are seeing through, it does, at times, seem jarring and prevents a narrative flow. There are points where the writing becomes repetitive and while I think that this is meant to indicate a pattern of circular thinking in a character, it got annoying.

There is also a large section which exists to attack the government policy during the Aboriginal stolen generation. There is enough information there that I am interested to follow it up and learn more about this tragic period of Australia’s history, but it seemed to be there as more of a political statement than as a furthering of the narrative. The story is based heavily (entirely??) on the life of a real person and I suppose as such it is to be expected that the major events would be focused on closely. Jessica attempts to help an Aboriginal friend who has had her children unfairly, though lawfully, confiscated. I just think that this section was both overly long and more concerned with government policy and the public’s casual racism, than with the characters. But like the character of the bush I think that it is important that more Australians know what went on during this period, and how that government policy and public opinion at that time is still affecting the Aboriginal people today. It is hard to criticize this too much because if Courtenay had written a non-fiction essay or book on the subject then it would never have reached the audience that Jessica will have.

Unfortunately the book as a whole was not up to the standard of some of his exceptional work. If you want to know the story, and it is worth knowing, it is probably worth trying to track down a copy of the mini-series. It is very faithful to the book and will take you less time to go through.

Ship of Magic; The Mad Ship; Ship of Destiny.


It has been way too long since I read these books for me to be able to write a proper review. But it suffices to say that trilogies like these remain the reason that I read fantasy novels.

The only complaint I remember having was the conclusion to book 1 and book 3. There was no real conclusion in book 1, I suppose that you may not need one in the first book of a trilogy, but I think that the story should still lead somewhere. I was a little spoilt by having access to all the books at once, as I often do with trilogies, so it is hard to tell what I would dislike more if I had to wait a year or two for book 2 – would I hate no having an ending, or would I dislike having an ending that leaves much unexplained. I think that in the long run I want some kind of ending. The Eye of the World is a perfect example, apart from the whole we have to have a huge Last Battle (note the capitals) this could survive as a stand-alone novel (the cynical among us may say that it should have been).

Robin Hobb’s characterization is masterful. Her imagination is not chained by fantasy cliché. Her world has complex politics, actions have real implication, characters have real reactions. People do stupid things through ignorance, and generations are affected. There is no black and white; not unredeemable evil, or irreproachable good. Some characters we care about, others we hate – but we understand why they are doing what they are doing, whether we love it or despise it.

I guess it would be easy to dismiss the novel – ships are alive, can talk and move to some extent, and feel and respond to the emotions of the crew. Serpents are sentient, although fading, and are in fact a larval form of dragons. I guess this kind of stuff could turn people off. But it is a great story, you just have to let go a little and suspend disbelief just a tad. There are no plot flaws though, everything is completely internally consistent.

This is the type of fantasy that non-genre readers don’t realize exists. They know about sword and sorcery, and think that all fantasy readers are pimply teenagers reading Forgotten Realms and playing Dungeons and Dragons (not that there is anything wrong with that) Good fantasy is so much deeper than that, sure its fun to read about people hacking each other into ever smaller pieces, but sometimes it is good to read about people in adverse circumstances. These are people as real as those in any real world novel. It is simply there locale that differs.

I am hardly likely to convert many people here, and I am not sure I would know how to go about it, but I would very much like to be able to get more people to read fantasy. The more people read it, the more people will write and publish great novels like this one.

So how was that for a review that manages to rarely mention the actual novel? Seems like most reviews I read on websites are like that now – just the reviewer pushing their point of view, in my case ‘People should read more good fantasy novels thinly disguise as a review for Robin Hobb’s Liveship Traders trilogy.

The first book from the author of High Fidelity (which I loved; both movie and book) and About a Boy (which I am keen to get my hands on), this is a story about the neurosis of football fans. It is autobiographical, following Nick’s support for Arsenal and all the pain that goes with it. The world of British football is a foreign one to me and I think that if I was more knowledgeable then I probably would have got more out of it. There were some things that struck home though.

He links various up and downs of Arsenal with his own personal ups and downs. Something that he sees as perfectly reasonable – his support of the team is irrationally personal; as is mine of my football (rugby league, not soccer) team, the Bulldogs. But it is hard not to become like this. The Bulldogs were kicked out of the comp for salary cap breaches on my birthday two years ago. The last time we won the competition (1995) was the same year as an amazing 3-0 win to the Queenslanders in State of Origin. These are the things that you remember. Our come from behind victory against Parramatta in the major semi final of 1997(after they had poached 5 of our players in 96) – and rubbing it in to my uncle and my friend’s mother who are both Eels supporters

He seems to have a unerring memory for matches and scores and players that I envy, but he also gets to see his team play live on a weekly basis, whereas I have to subsist on the occasional TV game and the once a year the Doggies make the trip from Sydney to Brisbane.

I enjoyed this book even though there were large parts of it I skimmed, as he went into discussion of soccer tactics, players, managers etc. He manages to poke fun at himself while explaining in some respects the passion that football fans feel. He gives some insight into the loutish behaviour that is synonymous with English football fans, and gives reasons for the various tragedies that have happened over the years.

I love the irrationality of it all. Why do you feel more attached to your team when they are losing? It is easy to be a fair weather fan, but while it hurts to watch your team lose, it makes the infrequent victories all the more special. People outside the scope of football don’t understand that once you have chosen the team you support you can no more change it than you can change your birth parents. It is just something you are. I am a Bulldogs fan, and always will be. Hornby is an Arsenal fan, and they will probably have to drag him away from Highbury to bury him.

If you are a soccer fan you must read this book. If you are a patriotic football fan of any code you should read this book. If you have no interest in football of any kind, read High Fidelity – it’s great, and then get yourself to a footy game, you’re missing out!!

I just read this out of curiosity. I am interested in legends, those of the Greeks and Romans may be the most well known, but those of the Australian Aboriginals, Native Americans and many African nations are equally interesting if perhaps less fully formed. It had the additional allure that Tolkien translated one of the most read editions. This edition actually had the old English one the facing page to the modern English translation. No words are recognizable; the difference a few hundred years can make on a language are amazing. I think that the invention of the printing press has markedly slowed this natural evolution of language, which is a shame in some ways, and a benefit in others. We can still read and understand the manuscripts of Shakespeare, but must rely on translation for great literary works older than that, e.g. Chaucer.

Beowulf is a legend about a Scandinavian warrior who is renowned for his strength in battle. He rescues the hall of Heorot from the monster Grendel, and his revenge-seeking mother, and returns to his land in glory. After many years as king he is once again called into battle against a dragon, which leads to the downfall of both him and the wyrm.

The author states in the introduction that he attempts to keep some of the rhythm of the original, which relies heavily on alliteration of stressed syllables, but I can never tell which syllables are meant to be stressed and which are not, so I fear my ear in this was lacking.

It was a very simple tale, you could imagine it being told around campfires to groups of men who inhabited a similar world to that of Beowulf. Strength in arms and loyalty to allies rewarded by woman, food and riches.

So it was an interesting rather than an enjoyable read, but something that is good for me to be able to say that I have read.

This epic poem was originally written in Italian in rhyming triplets. I flicked through a number of translations at the university library until I settled on this one, which seemed the most natural, aimed more at a literal translation than twisting meanings to the confines of rhyme. This meant that only the first and last lines of each triplet rhymed, and occasionally not even them, but I think it preserved the scope of the poem quite well.

The poem itself is quite incredible, and this is actually only the first of three books, to be followed by Purgatory and Paradise, which complete the Divine Comedy. Dante himself is led by Virgil through that circles of hell and witnesses the punishments that God metes out to sinners of different ilks.

The footnotes of the edition I read were enormously helpful, and allowed me to appreciate the genius of this work, and it is without doubt genius. The talent required to create an epic poem of this scope, and to include within it such precise symbolism is mind boggling.

If you get a chance to read this poem – do it!

Books II and III of the Summer Tree trilogy and both vast improvements on number one. The threads that were somewhat haphazardly spun out are woven together into a storyline of breathtaking complexity, originality, and beauty. Everything seems interdependent on everything else. Kay’s writing style is very different to that of other fantasy authors. Heavy on symbolism and near poetic description, it leads the mind to form its own image from the feelings conveyed, rather than from the images spelled out.

I don’t think that I will ever be a blurb writer, and attempting a plot summary months after I have read the books is probably ill advised. But these books often left me in awe of Kay’s storytelling prowess. An absolute pleasure to read.

GGK is very much like the Weaver he styles as the creator and fate maker; holding disparate threads and then weaving them, subtly, warp and weft. First a vague impression of the image forms, a tickling at the front of your mind and then slowly, faster in patches, the true grandeur is revealed. Such is the way GGK spins his plots. Layer upon layer, complementing, enhancing, deepening. An impressively spun tale!

If I had to pick a defect it would be the common fantasy tropes that are used. The lios alfar still parallel the Tolkien elves very closely. The Dwarves are also Tolkienesque. This is probably not surprising considering he helped Christopher Tolkien finish The Silmarillion. The clichés detract slightly from the story, but this is a minor nitpick.

As a footnote the cover illustration of Book II (I have the Harper Collins 3rd Ed 1992) by John Howe is remarkably similar to his illustrations for Robin Hobb’s Liveship Trader’s trilogy. It depicts a serpent rising out of storm tossed waves

This was an ex-library book that my Mum brought and is actually inscribed by the author. 'Stay less anxious than this guy.' - it refers to the main character, a 16 year old boy whose parents are spending the year in Geneva, leaving him to live in Brisbane with his older cousin and her flatmate. From my perspective this guy wasn't that anxious. Well, for the most part he was less anxious than me. His thoughts were not always logical, but what 16 year old boy would remain logical when thrown into a university share house.

Nick Earls is one of Brisbane's most well known authors (I have previously read a collection of his short stories). His face is on a series of council ads and one of his novels has been adapted for stage and is quite successful here. ( Zigzag Street if you are interested)
He writes in a very casual tone, telling stories about everyday people with everyday problems. The stories are usually set in Brisbane, which is an interesting experience. I think that in Australia we get so used to reading stories that are set in the US and Europe that it becomes weird to read about places that you know. I have been to the pubs he talks about; sat near the lake that is the centre of an important scene; and could recognize all the landmarks mentioned on his trip from the airport. In one way this was good, I could easily identify with the imagery and flesh it out, but on the downside it removes any real chance for escapism. I have no real interest in reading about the guy who lives next door to me.

When I read, I want to be reading about people who are different from me; live in exotic locations; lead interesting lives. This book was about a nervous sixteen year old going through high school in Brisbane while living with an older female cousin and another female flat mate. It was light-hearted, even funny in places, but the uninteresting navel-gazing was not that stimulating. It is intensely introspective, it made me feel shallow, as if I should be thinking deeper, more original thoughts, complete with snappy metaphors and vivid imagery.

Quotable Quotes –

In reference to a bed squeaking during sex in the next room (a scenario I am sure that most people who have lived in shared accommodation are familiar with) – “If lungs were made of chicken wire, this is the noise that asthma would make.”

A light read, and not a total waste of time, just not up my alley.

I have been meaning to read one of David Gemmell's books for quite some time. (Although I do have a suspicion that I may have actually read one at some stage.) There are two reasons for my interest. 1 - He is acclaimed as the king of heroic fantasy, and heroic fantasy is my staple mind candy; the book equivalent of an action flick. 2 - Most of his books are stand-alones. In a genre dominated by trilogies, I think his ability to finish a novel in one book is admirable. Many fantasy stories are stretched into trilogies to please publishers and editors when they really only needed one book to tell the story, or at most two. Why are series always trilogies? If the number of books written was solely dependent upon the story then shouldn't we see more duologies (duets? What do you call a series of two books? A trilogy in two parts - Douglas Adams style?) or even quadrologies.

The title character is an assassin who left the army after his wife and children were murdered. Embittered by this he turns his back on the world, yadda, yadda, yadda. While retrieving his stolen horse from a small band of thieves he reluctantly saves a tortured, pacifist priest.

They in turn manage to save a young woman and some children in her care.

It was more character driven than what I was looking for, and I think that forces the plot to be a little slower than it should have been.

Good book, but nothing out of the ordinary.

[Note] - I actually managed to let this review sit in draft form for more than a month. Too much time has passed since I read it for me to properly fix up the review, so you'll have to put up with the clumsiness. On a personal note the last two weeks have been insane, and there doesn't seem to be much chance of free time this weekend. But I will get back here when I can, and when I find enough time to actually read - lunch hours and a chapter before I collapse at night is not really enough of a fix, but what can you do?

Wow!

It is going to take a while to digest this, but I really felt like writing about it immediately after finishing it.

It was grizly, gruesome, exquisite, stomach-turning, vivid, disturbing, fascinating, perverted, wonderful.

Definitely not for the weak of heart. Way too much gay sex for my liking, but the amazing imagery both repulses and *searches for appropriate verb* attracts, fascinates, absorbs , I don't know. I can also read it more easily after being exposed to LOTR slash.

As I am writing this a NIN song that actually gets mentioned in the book ("Something I Can Never Have" for those who are interested) came on my random playlist . Freaky. Good song though.

The novel follows four intertwined stories. Three (Jay, Tran, and Luke) are told from third person, and one (Andrew) from first person. The shift from third person to first person was interesting as you immediately knew you were back in Andrew's perspective without having to garner a hint from the prose.

Jay and Andrew are serial killers preying on young gay men. Their urge to kill is closely linked to their sexual urge, as well as other less savoury things.

I wonder sometimes how horror managed to steal a disproportionate number of the cool words in the English language. I mean it is hard not to write some chilling stuff when you have access to words the quality of putrescent, foetid, sepulchre, and others. But it is the way they're woven that allows me to overcome my gag reflex and languish. Lovecraft had this effect as well, but his imagery is much more abstract, less violent, less sexual.

I realise that this post may be completely disjointed, but I really enjoyed the book, and am currently really enjoying the Glen Fiddich.

A good book, and a good scotch, two wonderfully warm buzzes.

Life is good.