1st Avenue

After finishing this short story collection, I now understand why Elmore Leonard is considered a classic in contemporary Western. He’s a skilled writer of viable dialogue that keep his stories moving forward even when there isn’t much happening.

Leonard’s style can be described simply as punchy because it can pack a punch and punctuate a seemingly simple story with lots of undertones. His writing might look like straight-forward pulp fiction, but there’s a sense of “literary literature” in his prose. He definitely knew how to turn a phrase half-way through a sentence to change the whole atmosphere of a story.

Most, if not all, of Leonard’s characters are morally corrupt and/or understandably self-serving, with the exception of the good US Marshal Raylan Givens in the titular story “Fire in the Hole.” The good Marshal is a light contrast to the criminal figures he deals with in that he has a conscience, but assumes the persona of someone who doesn’t. At first glance, it can seem unsettling to see him playing along with these criminal figures because you, the reader, can’t tell where his loyalties lie. As the story unfolds, however, Givens’ motives and intentions become a little clearer with encounter with another character. This is a running theme in Leonard’s writing. You don’t have an idea, upon first introduction, of what each character in the story represents until you read further.

There’s a subtle, simmering sense of something (unintended alliteration) not quite right in each of Leonard’s short story that’s sometimes a little on the violent side–violent in the sense of tense atmosphere, not bloodshed. The prose, dialogue, and characterization all have a tense undercurrent running through them which heighten the plots’ progression. The criminal figures and lawmen featured in Leonard’s stories are familiar and somewhat staples of the crime fiction genre. What separates Leonard’s characters from those of his peers’ is his handling of moving dialogue. His dialogue actually moves the plot forward, and a lot can be said, or assumed, in a passing conversation between an outlaw and a deputy. Leonard is Old West crime fiction in its most interesting contemporary form.

Western is not my preferred genre, and I don’t often read crime fiction unless it’s interjected into urban fantasy and/or sci-fi. With that said, I must say this collection of Leonard’s stories is a satisfying read.

Those who’ve seen the TV series “Justified,” based on the character of Raylan Givens, will find the story “Fire in the Hole,” which is also the name of the pilot episode, very familiar. The events in this story set off the series and reignite Givens’ clash with the opportunistic Crowder clan. The first season follows Leonard’s stories, and the rest of the series afterward, while staying true to Leonard’s creations, veer off into new story arcs by introducing new “victims” and “villains” for the good Marshal and friends to deal with. Givens in the show is younger and more charismatic than Givens in the story, who is rougher around the edges and isn’t as articulate. Overall, though, I think Justified’s showrunners have done Leonard’s stories justice by incorporating the unique, yet realistic setting and atmosphere that he created specifically for his stories into the show.

Flimsy knockoff

*cough* might as well be plagiarism *cough*

You know that insult, falling off the ugly tree and hitting every ugly branch on the way down? Well, this book fell off the cliche tree and hit every single over-done and beaten-to-death cliche on the way down and then it landed in plagiarism. Every cliche or trope in sci-fi/fantasy is present in all 500+ pages of this... I hesitate to call it a story. The page count may not seem like a lot, but when it's a story or a poor mash-up of several stories you've read before, the read seems to go on forever.

A number of reviewers mentioned that the story is a combination of Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings. The setting is basic high fantasy. There is an attempt to create a varied world like that of Tolkien's; however the creatures, languages, and cultures are poorly done. The characters are so obviously the product of a teenage boy's mind; they're supposedly "grown-ups" who speak and behave like clueless children. The dialogues are so juvenile and awkward they made me wonder how this book ever became a movie. The "love story" is unintentionally hilarious; I saw a lot of Luke and Leia in the two love birds. (I know, I know. Ewww. But that's only because we know they're twins. Much later in the story.) And the overall writing is obviously that of a kid trying his hands at fantasy but ending up mimicking books and series he admired so much that it's practically plagiarism.

Not long before I decided to read this book I saw a beautiful leather-bound box set of the Inheritance Cycle in a bookstore and thought maybe it'd be a nice gift for a young cousin who was just beginning to read chapter books. Looking back, maybe I should have gotten him the box set. It would have been his first epic fantasy adventure series, so maybe he would have enjoyed the adventure, seeing as how he'd never read epic fantasy before and wouldn't have recognized cliches or blatant plagiarism in the writing. His lack of fantasy knowledge and deconstruction skills might have let him enjoy Eragon for what it is, trivial rehashing of other well-known sci-fi/fantasy series.

But I have this rule: never buy a book that you've never read for someone else, especially if that someone else is a child; only give books you think are amazing, especially to children. It took me about a month to get through Eragon, and by the time I was done, I was more than ready to burn it.

I don't usually review books I can't stand, other than maybe to say why I can't stand it and why others might want to avoid it. Eragon is special though because everyone should avoid it. You're better off reading or watching the original works from which the book is lifted. There are countless other fantasy books and series that are more worthy of your time and effort.

— — — — —

Sort of related note:

As a trend, I keep seeing reviewers refer to Twilight whenever they want to make a point about how terrible a book is, but I rarely see them making references to Eragon, this equally terrible waste of paper. I'm not making excuses for Twilight, of course; it's terrible in its own rights, but at least it's a terrible original text (of terrible origins). Eragon is a terrible copy; a cheap knockoff, as I already said, which is arguably worse than a terrible original idea. And yet, whenever book reviews compare books of equal terrible-ness, many of them leave Eragon out of the mix. So maybe as a reminder, next time you want to point out how terrible a book is, remember to include Eragon.

This book was a Christmas present. I always make an effort to finish gift books, and I usually do because it’s the thought that counts, but this one was difficult to get through. I think it comes down to the book being not right for a reader like me, who requires historical fictions and their writers to be smart, or at least smarter than me.

If you’re a writer and you want to bring old legends and ancient creatures to contemporary times, then at least make them interesting. The least you could do is make them a little frightening and somewhat creepy because, after all, these are monsters.

Vlad Țepeș was a horrifying person when he was alive, and his legend as the Impaler is an echo and reminder of who he was. One does not “achieve” the name “the Impaler” and become a legendary monster that lives on in modern horror stories by feat of imagination alone; there’s actual history that shows the sort of bloody monarch he had been.

What Elizabeth Kostova does to Vlad Țepeș is similar to what urban fantasy writers have been doing to vampire tales in recent years: she sanitizes him by romanticizing his history and nature and presents him as a “stranger” with a huge secret living quietly among us. This is a huge disappointment to me not because it’s simple and naive, but because it brings up questions like why would he do that? what’s to gain by living among humans? Unfortunately, the story leaves me with more questions than answers, but none I’d like to explore further.

Another huge disappointment is this book could have been a great contemporary horror story or even as urban legend, and maybe in the hands of a stronger writer who understands suspense and thriller, it would have been something chilling. The problem lies in the focus of the book being on research and setting up events for a Dracula figure that isn’t even a little bit intimidating. I think that’s what bothers me most, that it’s an attempt to bring Dracula to contemporary times, but the elements of horror and suspense are missing, and so the result is a long-winded lackluster tale about unraveling family histories.

— — — — —

In 2007, this book almost become a movie, but (un)fortunately, a deal couldn’t be reached and so things fell through. As strange as it is for me to say, especially after writing such a scathing review, this story might turn out better as a movie. If the focus is on suspense and horror, it could be an interesting “modern-day” Dracula flick. Cutting out the first half of the book might help to intensify the search for Dracula. It couldn’t hurt, anyway.

A free copy available for download can be found here. However, you're more than welcomed to support this book by buying it at Lulu.

I'd like to thank the people who were involved in putting this document together. It was an enlightening read. I learned quite a few new things that went on and still goes on behind the scenes at Goodreads. I can't say I'm surprised by any of it, since I've come to expect these kind of things from GR.

Better reviews can be found on G.R. Reader's book page... unless the reviews are hidden, of course. Which, considering the subject matter of this book, they probably are. Along with deleting reviews, did you know that GR hides certain reviews as well? Apparently, this has been happening for some time now. It was news to me though. A lot of things that happened to "negative" or "off-topic" reviews were news to me. I thought I had been following this fallout closely, but apparently, there were many incidents that I'd miss in the midst of all the chaos.

Personally I've always found critical or "off-topic" reviews to be as useful as, if not more than, positive or raving reviews. Whenever I come across a book that interests me, I always check out the top reviews and especially the raving ones and the highly critical ones. I'm one of those people who need to know almost everything related to the book, which includes author, authorial intent, inspiration, "provenance," etc., before I decide whether or not to read the book because, to me, context matters as much as, if not more than, subtext.

By hiding the reviews I find most useful, GR is no longer a reliable book database and community. It hasn't been for some time. This is not news to anyone here at Booklikes, obviously, since you're here instead of at GR. I just wanted to added this one little thing about hidden reviews for people who didn't already know about it.

This will be the last time I mention GR here. Hopefully the last time.

After a month of leafing through summary reports and skimming predictions for next year, I was tired of reading and even more weary of the idea of starting a new book that might require some effort to enjoy. So it was with relief when I came across this book and remembered I'd been meaning to read Martinez for some time now. This book was just what I was looking for: a weird quick and easy read. Because that's what it, and I suspect all of Martinez's writing, is--an amusing break, from boring repetitive routines, that doesn't require much brainpower to enjoy.

The writing is light, fast paced, and doesn't take itself or anything else seriously. It's funny at times and somewhat poignant at other times when you least expect it. The humor is not what I'd call sharp or hilarious, but it's absurd enough to carry the story through to the end and unusual enough to hold my attention. My attention span wanes easily around this time of year, so it takes some effort for me to concentrate. I tend to abandon slow-moving books while in this mood, and yet I was able to just breeze through this story with minimal effort.

Here are a few things that made this story easy breezy:

Characters: So a vampire and a werewolf walk into a diner and find themselves in the middle of an impending apocalypse... that's the joke. The punchline is this kind of thing happens all the time. Gil's Diner is the unfortunate focus of the apocalypse. The rest of the story takes off from there like a ditzy adolescent Satanist-in-training bent on opening a portal to hell.

Characterization: Each character is defined by the crazy and absurd things they do and say more than their supernatural species or physical descriptions. They're also defined by the crazy and absurd things that happen to them. Almost every character is an otherworldly creature, and yet they're very much like the crazy people you might run into every day on the street.

Absurdities: In case you don't believe how weird things can get in this story, take these things into consideration

- a diner in the middle of nowhere experiencing some otherworldly troubles

- occasional zombie ambushes

- a walk-in freezer that has a tendency to surprise

- pig Latin is revealed to be the preferred language of hell raisers

And this is just the opening chapters.

Tone: A lot of fun. So much fun, in fact, that I'd originally mistaken this story as a tale for middle-grade readers, but the amount of gore and bloodshed that followed the first chapter made me reconsider.

Humor: Subtle, yet effective. It doesn't draw attention to itself or to all the weird things that keep happening in and around Gil's Diner. Instead, the focus of the story is on finding the culprit of the weirdness and putting an end to whatever that happen to be. The highlight of Martinez's writing is in his ability to keep the narration as close to being unintentionally funny as possible, while letting the characters, supernatural elements, and other absurdities carry the story.

Duke (the werewolf) and Kopp (the Sheriff) having a chat:

"I'm a werewolf."

Kopp went to the cooler and grabbed a soda. "Figured it was sumthin' like that."

"How'd you know?"

"Oh, I've had plenty of experience with this sort of thing. 'Bout seven years back, had an outbreak of vampire turkeys. And four years before that, Charlie Vaughn's daughter got herself possessed. And the Stillman's scarecrow took to wandering around at night and scaring the bejeezus outta the kids. Point is, Rockwood has itself an unusual history, and being sheriff means dealing with those problems."

Something something about a cult:

Kopp flipped through the purse. "Ah hell. Not another cult."

"'Fraid so," Duke confirmed.

"Another cult?" Loretta asked.

"Yeah. Seems like one pops up every couple of years. It's gotta be the heat."

"You need a movie theater," Duke observed.

"I've been trying to get a public swimmin' pool."

"That'd help."

You don't go into a book like this expecting it to make sense or for it to provide interesting commentary or even play by its own rules. What you can expect is for a good time and a few laughs to be had and maybe for events in the story to tie up with some satisfaction at the end, which they do. This book was exactly what I needed this past weekend. I read it on and off, in between visits to and from family and friends, and I even read it while on the road, and not once did I lose interest in the story's absurdness. It was a nice break from "serious" reading and too much family time.

It didn't occur to me at the time, but now that I think about it, Martinez's writing style and sense of humor are similar to Christopher Moore, albeit Martinez's is more mouthy, profane, low-brow than Moore's. Still entertaining though. Martinez also reminds me somewhat of Douglas Adams. Fans of the Hitchhiker's Guide would definitely take a liking to Gil's Diner.

This book came highly recommended by friends and reviewers, but I kept putting it off. Not because of the genre or anything about the book particularly. It just never looked that interesting.

The story is set in the USSR during the German invasion. Not a setting I’m familiar with, so I had to do some background research beforehand. I had read Doctor Zhivago awhile ago and loved it because it had that perfect union of engaging story and lyrical prose that I always look for in any book, regardless of genre. The Bronze Horseman seemed like it had similar themes or, at the very least, a contemporary echo of Doctor Zhivago, which in this case I wouldn’t have minded at all.

For some reason, there had always been something holding me back from this book, and I couldn’t figure out why. The star ratings were high, like unbelievably so across the board, and reviews by critics and average readers alike were glowing (they still are). Still, I never really felt like picking up this book and didn’t know why. And then I started reading. And everything that held me back suddenly made sense. Simply put, this book is just not for me, and I must have known that on a subconscious level.

Let me interrupt this review by saying the writing by itself is not terrible. The execution of the story, characterization (especially the two main characters), and the “romance” angle, on the other hand, are almost unbearable. I say “almost” because I did finish reading, so it wasn’t completely unbearable.

I’ll start with compliments and then ease into shortcomings.

The author’s depictions of pre-siege and post-siege Leningrad (St. Petersburg) are well done and very close to actual accounts from people who lived through the siege. A great number of people died of starvation within the city during this time. Those who survived had to scour for food any way they could. The way in which the author represents this particular era, through the perspective of one individual family, is well written and shows that she had done plenty of research. Had the story focused on the siege and its aftermath, I would have found this book a lot more interesting. So in other words, if the setting and context remain the same but the story is told from a different POV, accompanied by a completely different set of characters, it would be a richer story.

I read historical fiction for a different (hindsight) perspective of historical accounts. Already knowing what happens and the how’s and why’s of it only makes the stories more interesting, to me. History strengthens fiction by adding multiple perspectives into the mix which adds more depth to an already familiar event. When this is done well, fictional accounts read somewhat like actual historical accounts but with more depth, and this is what I look for in well crafted historical fiction. I think the Paullina Simons not only captured the events of the Siege of Leningrad but also the tense atmosphere of the era, the plight of the people, and the hopelessness of a city starving to death. If only she had approached characterization and plot with the same care.

Next comes the hard part because I really wanted to like this book. It had a lot of things going for it. Unfortunately, it didn’t work for me because the things that bothered me far outweighed the things that didn’t. So here goes.

Although this book wasn’t a good experience, I’m still interested in the Siege of Leningrad. A majority of books written about the siege are nonfiction. So far I’ve found only two other historical fictions (that might be worth my time), and they are David Benioff’s City of Thievesand Helen Dunmore’s The Siege.

With “moon” in the title and a setting like London, I was expecting there to be a werewolf tale or at least the very least a shapeshifter subplot, but this a story about Soho and jazz… and murder and magic and supernatural forces and things beyond our existential control, but mostly Soho and jazz. So of course, my favorite kind of urban fantasy. You won’t even miss the lack of werewolves at all.

Once in a very rare while, an author’s writing style syncs up with all the qualities which I look for in a genre. When these things overlap, reading becomes less of a task and more of an experience. Ben Aaronovitch’s writing is everything I look for in urban fantasy. I had an inkling shortly after finish Rivers of London that that was the case, but I wasn’t certain until this book.

When a good book takes you a step further into the realm of experience, the feeling I associate with reading is similar to returning home after a long trip away. And that was what it was like for me all through this book. After finish Rivers of London, I took a break to explore other genres and fictions and they were interesting, but the moment I picked up Moon Over Soho, it was like I was home again. Even though I’ve never been to London and only know of it through media representations, Aaronovitch’s London feels like a familiar place.

Anyway.

There are a lot of things I like about this book and a handful of things I have issues with, which are somewhat “resolved” in the end. I won’t get to them though because they are huge spoilers.

Peter Grant is still a fun protagonist to follow about. You get to follow him around all corners–and alley ways and rivers and creaks and abandoned buildings–of London during the investigation. He has a peculiar, yet entertaining, way of describing present-London while dropping chunks of past-London into the narration. I enjoyed these moments the most because my interest is often peaked and I end up looking all of these references up as I’m reading. They add perspectives which I otherwise would not consider to the story, and ultimately following Peter around London feels like getting an underbelly tour of Soho.

Peter’s magic takes on a more prevalent role in this book as he grows as an apprentice, an absurdly easily distracted apprentice, but still. Aside from beginner’s magic and Latin practices, Peter is also introduced to a new type of sinister magic and the possibility more like it exists. It’s more sinister than what we’ve seen in Rivers of London. It’s interesting to note that, while Nightingale is the Master Wizard, he often takes a supporting role in Peter’s investigations due to his recent injuries and Peter ends up doing most of the legwork, which is why he’s often sidetracked. But he gets well on his own.

Peter’s family and his interactions with his mom and dad are sweet while being realistic. Although his parents have limited screen-time, every scene they appear in show a glimpse of the family’s true dynamic and Peter’s biracial background. It’s a testament to Aaronovitch that he can write this family with an honesty and sense of care that I rarely see in genre fiction and almost never in urban fantasy. Even when Peter is taking the reader around London on a lead, in between snark and satire, he would often mention the influence his parents had and still have on him, both his personality and behavior. When the family is together, you can see that Peter takes after both of his parents. I find this endearing.

Wow. This is turning out to be a very Peter-centric post. That’s because I can’t really talk about anything else without giving the mystery away. I can’t even mention Simone, even though every blurb already has. I can’t even talk about the specific type of sinister magic which Peter encounters without revealing the ending. I certainly can’t bring up Molly due to the nature–or mystery?–of her being. What I can say is this story takes the reader back to a prolific time in London’s past that still has an effect on the London of today. That’s not too vague, now is it…

Like in Rivers of London, the narration and dialogue are great fun and quick-witted. Peter’s funny when he’s narrating or on his own talking to himself, and he’s hilarious when Nightingale is around. The two of them have that old-world meets new-world dynamic that’s perfect for Peter’s comedic timing.

Peter and Nightingale discussing a victim’s “hobby”:

     “Assuming he was a practitioner,” I said.

     Nightingale tapped his better knife on the plastic-wrapped copy of the Principia Artes Magicis. “Nobody carries this book by accident,” he said. “Besides, I recognize the other library mark. It’s from my old school.”

     “Hogwarts?” I asked.

     “I really wish you wouldn’t call it that,” he said.

Peter and Nightingale discussing connotations:

     “You can’t call them black magicians,” I said.

     “You realize that we’re using black in its metaphorical sense here,” said Nightingale.

     “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Words change what they mean, don’t they? Some people would call me a black magician.”

     “You’re not a magician,” he said. “You’re barely even an apprentice.”

Peter meeting Postmartin for the first time:

     I could see him trying to parse the phrase but he’s colored in a way that wouldn’t cause offense and failing. I put him out of his misery by shaking his hand; my rule of thumb is if they don’t physically flinch from touching you, then eventually they’ll make the adjustment.

— — — — —

All jokes aside, there is something that still bothers me and that’s the casual use of the word “Jap” to refer to anything Japanese. In this case, a sushi restaurant. Here in the US, it’s a racial slur that dates back to WWII and the Japanese concentration camps. In the UK though, I don’t know how this word is used or whether or not there is tension behind the usage. Aaronovitch has been respectful of diversity and racial discourse whenever he brings up Peter’s biracial identity and Peter’s mother’s Sierra Leonean background, so perhaps the word “Jap” doesn’t carry the same racial tension in the UK as it does in the US...?

And another thing, I find it hard to believe that Peter, whose mom is Sierra Leonean, would refer to Africa and also the Middle East as “countries” when grouping both with other actual countries like China, Russia, and India. I will excuse this as an editing slight, but if something like it happens again, it will be very disappointing.

Not as scary as I remember, but still a classic October read.

Over the years, I've read, watched, and listened to a number of headless horseman retellings of Irving's tale, which watered down the original story's impact. So while rereading is fun, the experience isn't as good as when I first read it all those years ago (back when I knew very little about genre tropes and urban legends).

— — — — —

Sleepy Hollow, the new TV series on Fox, is pretty good. I watched the first 5 episodes in just one rainy weekend and they were exactly what I was looking for: a mix bag of modern crime mystery and thriller set against an end-times conspiracy story arc (that will span the season) and just the right amount of urban legend thrown in.

I was inspired to reread Irving's Sleepy Hollow after watching the show. Even though the two have very little in common--Ichabod Crane and urban legends--it's interesting to offset one against the other while comparing and contrasting tones and tropes.

This is the most well-known set of Gwendolyn Brooks' poetry. Many of these poems were published in various magazines and literary journals, and now they're finally brought together in one collection.

If you're into rhythmic poetry, take a look at this collection. If "We Real Cool" is the only poem of Brooks you know, then you're barely scratching the surface. She has a way of grafting more meaning into a couple of lines of texts and empty spaces than any poet I've ever read.

Life for my child is simple, and is good.
He knows his wish. Yes, but that is not all.
Because I know mine too.
And we both want joy of undeep and unabiding things, like kicking over a chair or throwing blocks out a window
Or tripping over an icebox pan
Or snatching down curtains or fingering an electric outlet
Or a journey or a friend or an illegal kiss.
No. There is more to it than that.
It is that he is never afraid.
Rather, he reaches out and lo the chair falls with a beautiful
crash,
And the blocks fall, down on people's heads,
And the water comes slooshing slopily out across the floor
And so forth.
Not that success, for him, is sure, infallible.
But never has he been afraid to reach.
His lesions are legion.
But reaching is his rule.

— — — — —

I'd like to thank Ryan from HarperCollins for sending me the anniversary edition to enjoy.

Still as good as ever and each story is still as chilling as when I first read it, especially “The Lottery.” I’ve read this short story collection from cover to cover at least five times and reread individual stories within this collection countless times, and they still get to me every time I come back to them.

Jackson has a way of turning every day life events into something memorable at the end of the story. Although many of these stories aren’t quite as haunting as “The Lottery,” they’re disturbing in their own rights.

Jackson also has a way of turning mundane situations into something chilling, and that’s what I love most about the stories in this collection. They’re my favorite for one reason and one reason only: they can get to you when you least expect it. A story can start out as calm and dull as any other story about every day life in middle America, but then somewhere along, the narration takes a quick turn and the mundane becomes disorienting. That’s when the fun really begins.

From experience, I find Jackson’s short stories more interesting than her full-length novels because her psychological turns in narration work better in short form.