I've enjoyed Grant Morrison's work in the past, but Final Crisis feels like an experiment gone wrong. It's inc...more...what the &*(# was that?!?
I've enjoyed Grant Morrison's work in the past, but Final Crisis feels like an experiment gone wrong. It's incoherent and lacks even one memorable scene. Call me stupid (you won't be the first), but I couldn't make any real sense of it at all. Reading it felt like work, but there was no payoff. All it did was make me feel that the entire superhero genre is tired and outmoded.
Basically, Grant seemed to feel it necessary to try to amp up the tired old "heroes save the universe" plot into "HEROES save the MULTIVERSE!!!!!!", but ended up creating a confusing mess. Maybe it's time to stop trying to save the universe, and move towards a storyline a little less full of s---. Something that relates a bit more to the human condition.
I mean...it seems to me that Final Crisis is a good example of a real problem with the comics industry, or at least with the Big Two. The stories just don't have any connection to the real world any more. It's just the same old stuPENDOUS, tiTANIC WORLD-SAVING!!! And seriously who gives a f--- any more?
The fantastic is integral to superhero comics, just as sugar is integral to ice cream. But a comic book that consists of nothing BUT the fantastic, with the same old fantastic plot that has been done to death a million times over, is like ice cream made of nothing but sugar.
It'll rot your teeth. And the only people who'll like it are those with very simple tastes. Since TV serves the simple-tastes market cheaper and better than comics can*, this isn't an approach that bodes well for the future of comics. And frankly, Grant Morrison is capable of better.
If there's nothing that connects a story to the reader, if there's no actual human element in the story, only rabid fanboys with undiscriminating tastes will buy your books. And where's the future in that? That's not an audience that's going to grow. It's not like fanboys have a high reproduction rate! And I should know - I was one.
If you've forgotten how incredibly awful comics were in the early-to-mid 1960s, this is the book for you! It's like a steaming turd, carefully gift-wr...moreIf you've forgotten how incredibly awful comics were in the early-to-mid 1960s, this is the book for you! It's like a steaming turd, carefully gift-wrapped in shiny new paper so you'll open it not realizing just how painfully bad it really is.
Stupid minor characters who are so awful that it's actually hard to believe that anyone human actually made them up (like "The Fiddler", for example). No logic at all, no real stories in any sense of the word, just one pointless, stupid event after another. And the dialog...that painful, torturous dialog. Dick Cheney would love this book.
One thing that stuck in my mind was Dr. Fate trying magical atomic explosions on a colossal anti-matter creature. They didn't work, so Batman ran around it in a circle, Bat-punching it. Yes, many of the classic DC heroes are here, but they're warped out of all resemblance to the archetypes we know and love.
DC thoughtfully put a modern-looking cover on this collection, presumably so that some poor idiots would buy it without realizing that the contents suck in every way imaginable (including, of course, the art).
The stories were originally published from 1963-1966. The Code was in full flower. But even under the Code, it wasn't necessary to produce such utter and absolute crap.(less)
Ron Goulart is one of the four funniest science fiction writers in the world (the other three are Fredric Brown, Robert Sheckley, and Keith Laumer, if...moreRon Goulart is one of the four funniest science fiction writers in the world (the other three are Fredric Brown, Robert Sheckley, and Keith Laumer, if you were wondering). And in The Chameleon Corps and Other Shape Changers he's at his hysterical best. There are many lines here which have stayed in my head and amused me for over thirty years now. This book contributed quite a bit to the development of my admittedly quirky sense of humor.
The book itself is divided into two sections. The first five stories are about the adventures of Ben Jolson of the Chameleon Corps. Esoteric treatments applied at a young age have given Ben the power to alter his form at a moment's notice; he can impersonate anyone, as well as objects of his own general size, flawlessly. Problem: he'd rather sell pottery than be a secret agent. But you're not allowed to quit the Corps.
So Jolson finds himself being sent to one hot spot after another throughout the Barnum system of planets, carrying out odd, sometimes bizarre missions for a government that often seems a lot like ours - given to hypocrisy, greed, idiocy, and sudden tragic bursts of realpolitik.
In that, it's rather like the CDT of Keith Laumer's Retief series, albeit considerably less broad. But Goulart's style is much more modern-feeling than Laumer's, with more of a 1960s (and, oddly, 2010s) sensibility. And Jolson is not the superhuman figure that Retief is, for all his powers. Retief saves the world despite and in spite of its idiocy; Jolson can't be sure that what he's saving is better than the alternative, or even that he's necessarily saving anything. He's just trying to get the job done and survive.
But oh my god, the stories are funny. Jolson often has to impersonate eccentric characters, and Goulart gives them personalities and verbal quirks which are absolutely hysterical - mother of goats, would you question my word? When you reach the end of the fifth story, you'll wish there were more. And there are, I believe; there was at least one Chameleon Corps novel, I think, as well as (possibly) more stories. In any case, much of Goulart's work is of the same quality: just as funny and enjoyable.
The last six stories are not connected to each other, and tend to be a little darker. But they're still very funny and very memorable. This is one of those outstanding collections of clever, jewel-like short stories that's a real treasure for anyone who loves science fiction and/or humor.
A difficult book to judge. In large part, it seems to be one side of a battle over a broken relationship. Not knowing the other side, how am I to judg...moreA difficult book to judge. In large part, it seems to be one side of a battle over a broken relationship. Not knowing the other side, how am I to judge who's right? And why should I bother?
In this particular case, the dispute is between the book's co-author, Daniel Domscheit-Berg, and famed Wikileaks director Julian Assange. I'll credit Domscheit-Berg and/or his co-author Tina Klopp (who I presume is a ghost writer), with showing some restraint; they paint Assange as an arrogant and irresponsible egomaniac, but you can see them trying hard not to seem too obviously one-sided.
As for the truth of the details, how the hell am I to know? It's believable that Assange is an asshole. On the other hand, that's just if you go by Domscheit-Berg's word. Frankly, there are a million stories like this out there: a working relationship gone sour. I've had a few of them myself. Unfortunately this one isn't terribly more interesting than, well, any of mine for example! It's only the celebrity of Assange and Wikileaks that got this book into print.
There are two things that could have redeemed this book. One would have been great writing. I can't speak for the original German edition, but the translation in the English edition was merely workmanlike. Oh, it was handled well enough that it didn't jump out at me as a translation; whoever went over the translation did a good enough job, as far as that goes (and incidentally, I used to touch up and in some cases re-write poorly translated articles for a magazine myself, so I have some experience in this area). But the writing simply isn't anything special. Nor is there, for example, any particular humor to the book.
The other potentially redeeming factor would have been some really insightful details about the workings of Wikileaks. There's some of that here, and it is somewhat interesting. If it's credible (and I have no particular reason to doubt it) then Wikileaks is in a real technological pickle. But again, although I support openness and the stated principles of Wikileaks, technical issues don't mean a lot to me here.
The book is remarkably current. It's about issues that took place as recently as five or six months ago. That's a bit jarring! It gave me the feeling that I could have been reading the whole thing on some online forum.
I also have to say that I can't help but feel a little bit taken advantage of by Mr. Domscheit-Berg. His book seems to be little more than a veiled continuation of a running battle with Julian Assange. Okay, if his account is accurate, then Assange is an irresponsible egotist and bastard. But I wasn't involved in this battle, and why is Mr. Domscheit-Berg making money off of me in pursuit of his war? Apart from anything else, that seems a highly ironic act for someone who professes such high ideals.
Incidentally, the book was a birthday gift from my sister and her husband. I'm quite sure they hadn't read it themselves. It was a thoughtful gift - if you're reading this, sis, I hope this review doesn't hurt your feelings - because I am interested in openness, politics, and Wikileaks. I just wish Domscheit-Berg had produced something more worthwhile and in-depth.(less)
I'm not a Peter David fan. Oh, I've read a few of his books, but I consider him to be a workmanlike author rather than an artist. Of course, I also co...moreI'm not a Peter David fan. Oh, I've read a few of his books, but I consider him to be a workmanlike author rather than an artist. Of course, I also consider him to be a newcomer, since I respect very few post-1980 authors (exactly three, in fact: Brust, Brin, and Watt-Evans).
But In the Beginning is surprisingly well-written. It was shot in the dark for me, quite literally; I don't remember where I'd originally picked it up, but I'm sure I didn't buy it new (the pencil marking inside says $2.95). It was late at night, I desperately needed something to read, and I'd just turned off the light in the den; it was pitch-black. So for a lark, I pushed aside the books in the outer layer of one of my bookshelves (I'm terribly short of shelf space), and pulled out a book at random from the row of books behind.
Now, I must admit up front that I was a big fan of Babylon 5. In fact, it was the last show that I would call myself a "fan" of; I think I got too old for the fan phenomenon after that. But from seasons 1-4 I was a big fan, and even wrote a one-shot zine for a Babylon 5 APA (amateur press association, a collection of zines on a topic).*
Anyway, I have to say that Peter David captured the voice of the narrator, Londo Mollari, extremely well. I could hear the voice just as Peter Jurasik performed it while I was reading it. I don't know if someone who isn't familiar with the show itself would get the same enjoyment out of the book, therefore.
In any case, I'd call it a successful novelization; it captured the plot and essence of the broadcast show extremely well. There was only one jarring note. On page 75, there's a line:
Indeed, the gravity on the Babylon 5 space station was achieved entirely through a steady rotation, the same as that on any planet.
Perhaps Peter David only meant to say that planets have a steady rotation, but it certainly seems as if he's saying that centrifugal (or is it centripetal?) force is the source of gravitation on planets - and of course, that's absolutely wrong! If planetary gravity was caused by rotation, everything not fastened to the planetary crust would be flung into space. Could a modern science fiction author really be that ignorant of basic physics? I have to wonder!
All in all, though, an enjoyable read. I was tempted to give it four stars. But if you're not a B5 fan, you're probably more likely to consider it a 3-star work.
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* - I'm not sure if this link will work, but if it does here's a link to that zine: http://www.maranci.net/babble-on5.pdf . It has been annotated from a years-later perspective.(less)
A few days ago I was looking somewhat frantically through the books on the shelves in my closet (yes, I have a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in my closet...moreA few days ago I was looking somewhat frantically through the books on the shelves in my closet (yes, I have a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in my closet) for something to read to my son, Sebastian. Lost Race of Mars almost fell into my lap. I'd read it several times as a child myself, and remembered liking it quite a lot. I'd nearly forgotten about it, but I grabbed it and read it to him.
It was written by Robert Silverberg in 1960, and includes some charmingly albeit slightly crude illustrations. Sebastian loved the book, and chuckled over every drawing.
It's the story of a family who visits Mars for a year on that far-off date of 1991. The children, Jim and Sally, are the primary focus. But what grabbed Sebastian the most were the cats. First was the family cat, Chipper, who is left behind on Earth early on. Sebastian asked several times if we'd see Chipper again. A few illustrations later in the book showed Chipper, and he was particularly interested in those. He is a cat person (we're a cat family, in fact), so his interest was quite natural. Perhaps someone who doesn't like cats wouldn't enjoy the book as much as we did.
There was also Mitten, the Mars cat, in the later chapters. Again, Sebastian loved Mitten and chortled over the drawings of him.
The story is nicely paced, well-written, easy to read aloud, and has a very satisfying ending. The science is a little shaky, but not outrageously so (I'm still tempted to look up the temperatures on Mars). The prognostications are way off - a thriving Mars colony by 1991?!? - but that's not an insurmountable problem. The Martians themselves are, well, pedestrian by modern science fiction standards. But they work well for children, and that's who the book is written for. I'll also credit Silverberg with giving Sally, the younger girl in the book, a stronger-than-customary role for the time; she's not simply a stereotypical docile little sister, nor is she one of those cliched "spunky" girls.
Sebastian is nine and a half. He's a bit advanced when it comes to books, but I'd say we hit the sweet spot with this one - he's the perfect age to enjoy it. I think any child from say, eight to thirteen would be likely to enjoy the book, and many older children would too.
I'm giving the book four stars just because I can't classify it as a deathless classic that will last through the ages. But Sebastian gives it fives stars without reservation.(less)
I read Cheaper by the Dozen decades ago, and it stuck with me; the humor, and the deeply moving sadness at the end. I recently read to it to my nine-y...moreI read Cheaper by the Dozen decades ago, and it stuck with me; the humor, and the deeply moving sadness at the end. I recently read to it to my nine-year-old son, who loved it (we watched the 1950 movie of the book immediately after; for his own sake, we are not watching the trashy and completely unrelated Steve Martin movie of the same name).
He wants to move on to the sequel, and so did I. Fortunately our library was able to obtain a copy. Just to be safe, I decided to read it through before deciding if it was appropriate to read to him.
It is. The humor isn't as rich as it was in Cheaper by the Dozen, but that's because this is the story of the family after Frank Gilbreth died, and he was apparently a font of humor. That said, I smiled, laughed, and chuckled many times throughout the book. It's as well-written as the first, and nearly as enjoyable. The ending isn't as moving as the ending of Cheaper by the Dozen, but it's both touching and thought-provoking. I liked this book, and I'm going to search out other books by the authors and about the Gilbreths as well.
There was one jarring point. Just as the family minstrel show suddenly brought home just how much time has passed since the events of Cheaper by the Dozen, in this case my jaw dropped when I read the following. The two oldest girls had taken up smoking, and were caught by their mother:
"I've been trying to think up some good arguments against smoking," Mother said, "but when you analyze them, they don't seem too convincing."
She started to enumerate the arguments, counting them off on her fingers.
...
"It's bad for your health. That's open to debate. Not so bad as overeating, or not getting enough sleep."
She ends up reluctantly giving them permission to smoke - quite a shock to a modern reader. Or at least it was to me! But then, I wasn't alive in the 1920s. Oh I knew, intellectually, that the attitude towards smoking was very different then, but after getting to know the Gilbreth family through their books it's strange to suddenly realize how long ago they lived.(less)
The Teddy-Bear Habit is the story of the adventures of a twelve-year-old boy in Greenwich Village in the mid-1960s. George Stable is...not rebellious....moreThe Teddy-Bear Habit is the story of the adventures of a twelve-year-old boy in Greenwich Village in the mid-1960s. George Stable is...not rebellious. No, he's more real than that. He simply tries to get what he wants in a world of adults who don't understand, and is not above stretching the truth or breaking some rules if that's what it takes. He doesn't glory in that, and at times almost feels a little guilty, but he does what he has to.
It's been a long time since I was his age. But to me, that attitude rings very true. Most kids, I think, do what they think they must to get what they really want. George, the first-person narrator, feels extremely real and modern - even though the book is now almost forty-five years old.
In fact, The Teddy-Bear Habit reminds me very strongly of another first-person story of a New York teen who lives somewhat outside the rules: Holden Caulfield. Truth to tell, the book really strongly reminds me of The Catcher In The Rye, so much so that at times the two books have been slightly merged in my memory. The Teddy-Bear Habit was written 16 years after Catcher, of course, but both books have a remarkably modern, timeless feeling. The city of New York plays a key role in both books, perhaps a bit more so in The Teddy-Bear Habit. George's inner voice is remarkably like Holden's, but younger and not as alienated.
George wants to be a rock and roll star, and to be on television. His father hates rock and roll, and won't allow a television in their house. He (the father) is, however, an extremely funny character; a modern painter who makes a living writing and drawing comic books. The passages about his heroes, Amorpho Man and Garbage Man, are simply hysterical. I could have read a whole book of that stuff!
George has another problem, too: he's a decent singer, and is learning to play the guitar secretly from a music-shop owner, but he has self-confidence issues. He is, simply, dependent on his teddy bear. When it's not around, he's a "loser".
Complications ensue, ones that you'll surely find very memorable. The book is at times quite thrilling. But between the humor and the thrills, it never loses that "real" feeling.
There are a few jarring moments when the Beatles or Murray the K are mentioned as examples of modern coolness. But then, the book was published in 1967.
Speaking of which, avoid the "Lost Treasures" edition if you possibly can. The original edition (and most later ones, until recently) featured wonderful illustrations by Lorenz, whose work also appeared often in The New Yorker, where he was art editor for many years. The illustrations are very funny, and should not be missed! I don't know why they were eliminated from the Lost Treasures edition, but eliminating them makes as much sense as eliminating the classic Tenniel illustrations from Alice.
I recently read the book to my son, age nine. He loved it, and demanded that we seek out the sequel. Unfortunately the sequel doesn't live up to The Teddy-Bear Habit, and isn't quite appropriate for my son - yet. But The Teddy-Bear Habit itself is firmly ensconced as a favorite for both of us.(less)
I picked this one up along with several other books by James Lincoln Collier at the library. I've long been a fan of his Lost Treasures: The Teddy Bear Habit - Book #3...moreI picked this one up along with several other books by James Lincoln Collier at the library. I've long been a fan of his Lost Treasures: The Teddy Bear Habit - Book #3, and since I was thinking of that at the library one day, I picked up several more books of his on a whim.
But With Every Drop of Blood almost got returned to the library unread. I read another book of his first, Outside Looking in, and it had been rather disappointing. And despite the old maxim, the cover of With Every Drop of Blood was remarkably boring-looking, at least for me. Still, I hadn't gotten around to returning it before I ran out of reading material, so I ended up giving it a try.
I'm glad I did. It turned out to be one of those books that you can't put down; you have to know what comes next. Gripping, you know what I mean? It's the story of a Southern boy during the Civil War, but told in relatively modern language (albeit not irritatingly so).
There's a bit of synchronicity here, as it happens. The very first thing in the book is a statement by the authors about the language in the book, specifically - and I hate to mince words, but this review is going up on Facebook and I have young readers - the "N-word". They use it several times for historical accuracy, but use it less than the people at the time would have.
That said, the book is certainly appropriate for ages 12 and older, and probably appropriate for most children from 10 up. And it's certainly very readable, very compelling, and fascinating. The only criticism I can make is that it ends rather rapidly. And when I reached the end, I very much wanted to know what happened next!(less)
An odd book. James Lincoln Collier is particularly gifted at first-person narratives of teenagers that feel very real. But this book feels a bit flat....moreAn odd book. James Lincoln Collier is particularly gifted at first-person narratives of teenagers that feel very real. But this book feels a bit flat. Fergy has been traveling the country with his parents and sister; his father is a thoroughly unlikeable grifter and egomaniac. His mother inexplicably goes along with this, and his little sister is an out-of-control kleptomaniac. Fergy wants a "normal" life, and when a chance comes to try to escape life on the road, he makes the obvious choice.
The thing is...unlike other Collier books, this one seems oddly flat. It's not a bad book, but everything is a bit more two-dimensional than in most other Collier books; it doesn't seem as real, and the choices mostly seem obvious. I might even say that the plot is a bit simplistic and unbelievable. It's worth a read if you like Collier, but if you're not familiar with his work, try Lost Treasures: The Teddy Bear Habit - Book #3 first - and try to get one of the older editions, one with the illustrations by Lorenz! After that, I'd recommend his historical books over this oddly dated and somehow lifeless novel. He's a very good writer, but this simply isn't his best work.
Update: Looking back, I think I see what the problem is with Outside Looking In. A good story needs to have some point on which the reader can connect. I suspect that may be particularly true for first-person narratives. It's not necessary for the reader to have have the exact same experiences, of course, but in some way there has to be an element with which the reader can identify.
In Lost Treasures: The Teddy Bear Habit - Book #3, for example, George Stable's desire for success drives him to make some reckless decisions. He gets in way over his head. We've all had that same sort of general experience.
But in Outside Looking In, there's really not much to connect to! Fergy starts out living on the road with an abusive father - a man who is SO vile and one-sided that there's no conflict at all. You'd no more consider staying with him than you'd consider staying with a rabid tiger.
That flatness of character, incidentally, also has an impact on Fergy's mother. Why does she stay with such an obviously abusive man? One who is clearly destroying their children's lives, as well as hers? It makes no sense, so she immediately becomes an unsympathetic character.
Fergy's life has nothing in common with that of most readers, I think - unless you grew up constantly on the run in a van with a gang of con men, without schooling or friends. If so, this is the book for you. But for everyone else, I think that the book will leave you cold.(less)
Pohl won a Hugo and a Nebula for Gateway, deservedly so.
Frederik Pohl was, of course, one of the Golden Age writers of SF. But Gateway showe...morePohl won a Hugo and a Nebula for Gateway, deservedly so.
Frederik Pohl was, of course, one of the Golden Age writers of SF. But Gateway showed that he was hardly stuck in the 1950s. It was very innovative for its time. The general tone is quite modern. Much of the book is about the therapy of Robinette Broadhead, an ex-astronaut with severe post-traumatic stress disorder. The PTSD is understandable, since his spaceflights were taken in several alien spacecraft that no one knew how to operate; operating out of an abandoned alien base in the solar system, the "prospectors" of Gateway faced an extremely high casualty rate.
Robinette Broadhead is a complex character; unpleasant in some ways, and often not admirable. But since the story is told from his point of view, in first person, it's clear that we're not getting an objective picture of himself or, probably, his experiences.
Pohl also put whole-page inserts in the book, including conversational program read-outs from Robinette's therapist (a computer program), excerpts from science lectures, classified ads, and letters - all of them relevant to the story, of course, and many of them quite funny. The novel itself is not a comedy, I should note, but there are many very amusing moments.
I'll also quickly note that Pohl's representation of future society is dystopian and rather prescient. Desperate poverty is, apparently, the norm for most of the world's population. People sell organs and body parts to the rich in order to survive. Much of the environment is hideously despoiled, although there are domed enclaves where the elite live. Health care is more than ever a matter of life and death, priced beyond the ability of most to pay; but for the wealthy, life is comfortable and long. A look at current health care statistics makes the world of Gateway seem not very unlikely. Except that we're unlikely to find an alien base with FTL spacecraft in nearby space, of course.
The ending is rather touching. No spoilers, but one of the strongest and most likable characters in the book is Robinette's therapist; I've always found his final remark oddly moving. It's a pity that he (it) wasn't given more of a role in the sequels.(less)
A fairly large collection of science fiction short stories from Poul Anderson, weighted towards the earlier part of his career. Quite good, but not al...moreA fairly large collection of science fiction short stories from Poul Anderson, weighted towards the earlier part of his career. Quite good, but not all of it is his best work; the older stories are a little simplistic. Still well worth reading, though.(less)
A good collection of science fiction mysteries, along with an explanation of that relatively obscure sub-genre from Isaac Asimov. I've read a fair num...moreA good collection of science fiction mysteries, along with an explanation of that relatively obscure sub-genre from Isaac Asimov. I've read a fair number of SF mysteries, and had read most of the ones in the book; most of them are excellent examples of the form. The leading story, "The Detweiler Boy" by Tom Reamy, was not particularly good; putting a relatively weak story first in an anthology is an unfortunate flaw.
But there are a number of gems here, including Larry Niven's "Arm". "War Games" by Philip K. Dick, was simply not readable for me; I can take some PKD, but only in mild doses - and not a lot of it. I don't know if it was the mood I was in, or if the story was particularly Dick-ish (sorry, couldn't resist), but after a page or two I simply skipped that story altogether.
That said, the vast majority of the book is excellent and well worth reading.(less)
Not bad. Another overly-earnest story of a future Superman. The art's pretty good. It's a bit too worshipful of Superman - what wouldn't I give for a ...moreNot bad. Another overly-earnest story of a future Superman. The art's pretty good. It's a bit too worshipful of Superman - what wouldn't I give for a "The Man of Steel is an asshole" story line, does he EVER do something as human as fart? And if so, wouldn't the result be a super-fart that would destroy buildings and gas whole cities? I get the feeling that young authors who get to write Superman stories are either so intimidated or browbeaten that they act as if they're genuflecting before something holy. It gets kind of sickening.
But still, not too bad. The characters aren't abused or forced to act out of character, mostly. I'd read it again.(less)
One star might be a little brutal, but this book was definitely not "okay". It's muddled, bombastic, and almost unreadable, featuring some o...moreOne star might be a little brutal, but this book was definitely not "okay". It's muddled, bombastic, and almost unreadable, featuring some of the more uninteresting SF characters from the Marvel pantheon. There are one or two mildly interesting moments, but the art is mediocre at best, the dialog limps and is at times painfully juvenile...all in all, not worth the time or effort to read.(less)
**spoiler alert** The new Green Lantern (Kyle Rayner) must fight a seemingly unbeatable entity: a malevolent being that seems to be identical to one t...more**spoiler alert** The new Green Lantern (Kyle Rayner) must fight a seemingly unbeatable entity: a malevolent being that seems to be identical to one that he himself created for a comic book as a youngster. The League has been trapped and are helpless. Helpers mysteriously appear, but are they what they seem?
All in all, not bad. A bit earnest and simplistic, but I'll give the writers credit for a good, sincere try. Except that the ending is VERY abrupt and incomplete - so much so that I strongly suspect that the copy I read (from the library) is missing one or more of the final pages. The pages aren't numbered, so I can't be sure.(less)
Unbelievably putrid. Over and over I sat in stunned amazement, asking myself "Did they really publish stuff this bad back in 1981?"
...moreUnbelievably putrid. Over and over I sat in stunned amazement, asking myself "Did they really publish stuff this bad back in 1981?"
There are two kinds of stories in comics. One tries to say something meaningful, or at least to present some sort of concept that the reader can be entertained by. The other is the visual equivalent of two three-year-olds trying to one-up each other. "My hero is a million times stronger than yours!" "Oh yeah? Well MY hero is a JILLION times stronger!" Over and over and over. There's no sense to it, and no point.
Which pretty much describes this "book".
Oh, and the authors completely abuse the Arthurian legend. In an incredibly lame "future Arthur" sequence, Merlin is "cool", saying things like - and I am NOT making this up - "Okee doke: One 'Return to Sender' spell, comin' right up!"
Merlin as Jar-Jar Binks. It made me want to beat the author with a club.
So to sum up, the only reason to read this thing is if you want to take a look back to see just how incredibly awful some comic books were, even as recently as 1981 (the art is pretty bad, too). And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do something - anything - to drive the memory of that unbelievably idiotic writing out of my brain.(less)
How can I review this book impartially? It's the novelization of a Gene Roddenberry TV movie/pilot that I've been a fan of for a long time.
...moreHow can I review this book impartially? It's the novelization of a Gene Roddenberry TV movie/pilot that I've been a fan of for a long time.
The pilot wasn't picked up, unfortunately. But The Questor Tapes remains an intriguing and deeply enjoyable movie. Veteran Star Trek writer D.C. Fontana did a fine job of novelizing the story of an android with incomplete programming, searching for the riddle of his existence with the help of a human friend - and with the usual Javert figure in pursuit.
As I said, I'm not sure what I would have thought of this book if I'd never seen the movie. But as a novelization, and compared to other novelizations that I've read, it works very well. Fontana must have worked from a late script, or even written the manuscript after the movie was filmed; there are none of those annoying omissions that so often mar novelizations which are based on early scripts.
There's humor, and moments of thoughtfulness. There's a quasi-religious element to the plot and some religious philosophizing that I find slightly irritating (and I'm not usually that sensitive to that sort of thing, believe it or not), but those were present in the original movie. All in all, a very enjoyable book.(less)
I wavered between giving this three and four stars. Once again, GoodReads' five-star system proves much too limiting. In a fractional scale, this woul...moreI wavered between giving this three and four stars. Once again, GoodReads' five-star system proves much too limiting. In a fractional scale, this would be a 3.5 at least.
It's really quite a likable book, in no small part because it takes some of the standard tropes of fantasy and fiction in general - going all the way back to The Count of Monte Cristo and, of course, Shakespeare - yet managed to surprise and move me at some points. I value that; when you've read as many books as I have, genuine surprises are rare, and to be cherished.
The language is a bit archaic and Vancian (i.e. reminiscent of Jack Vance, which is to say rather formal and old-fashioned). There are moments when the humor reminds me of Vance too - but nowhere near as chaotic and confusing as Vance can sometimes be.
It's an old story; the hero, cast down from his noble station, finds himself fated to set things right. The characters are the usual fantasy types, albeit with more depth than is usual. In fact, that's where Leiber surprised me; I was more than half-expecting the usual "this ends here" final encounter between the hero and villain, and instead was surprised by...well, I won't spoil it for you.
I'll note that Justin Leiber is the son of the famous Golden Age science fiction writer Fritz Leiber. He's a rare example of literary talent running true in a family (unlike the supremely untalented Brian Herbert, who, I must note, should have had his hands chopped off before he was ever allowed near a keyboard). Leiber (fils has also demonstrated an impressive range of ability, having also written some very good science fiction in a very different "voice". The Sword and the Eye is the next-to-last fiction book he published (so far); there's apparently a sequel (the cover calls it "Book One of the Saga of Eigin"), but that sequel was published in 1986, and there's been nothing more from Leiber since. That's a pity, because writers of his caliber are far too rare in the science fiction and fantasy genres these days!(less)
A nice change from the usual ponderous crap that's so often issued by the Big Two. Of course, this isn't from the Big Two, which is probably why it's ...moreA nice change from the usual ponderous crap that's so often issued by the Big Two. Of course, this isn't from the Big Two, which is probably why it's not crap.
There are a number of thinly-disguised re-takes on classic superhero characters; this has practically become a genre in itself. I almost wonder if DC and Marvel might eventually start publishing their own thinly-disguised re-takes of their big properties, just to get in on the action!*
Anyway, the book consists of a series of mostly-unrelated superhero stories, offering a different and more "realistic" take on the genre. It reminds me very strongly indeed of Common Grounds, but to tell you the truth, I think Common Grounds did it better. In fairness I should note that Common Grounds also came out years after Astro City.
The stories are thought-provoking, but some of them fall a little flat. There's a slight feeling of...I'm not quite sure how to put this. The stories are good, but they're just not as masterfully written as the works of...well, I hate to always be bringing him up, but Alan Moore. They just feel as if they're aimed slightly lower, somehow; they don't dazzle through sheer virtuosity.
But they're fun, and thought-provoking, and the art is good. In a fractional system I'd give Astro City a solid 3.49, and I'm definitely going to look up other books in the series. If I was still subscribing to comic books, I'd doubtless subscribe.
I wish GoodReads would change over to a ten-star or fractional system! Five stars is MUCH too restrictive.
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* - They probably have - and if they have, I'm sure Steve will tell me. :D(less)
This really doesn't deserve two stars. But it's just not quite dreadful en...moreWant my one-word review? Here it is:
"Meh."
This really doesn't deserve two stars. But it's just not quite dreadful enough to rate only one. It almost was, but there was a slightly interesting section towards the end where they did some mildly amusing playing around with different art styles.
But in a fractional system, this one would get 1.51 stars at best. Ponderous, annoying, stupid characters and plots...it really felt like a throwback to the old days, when most comic books were being written for an audience of slightly dim-witted young teens. With a bit of extra confusion thrown in for pseudo "depth".(less)
**spoiler alert** I must have read Robert A. Heinlein's The Puppet Masters twenty or thirty times, easily, since the first time I read it in my mid-to...more**spoiler alert** I must have read Robert A. Heinlein's The Puppet Masters twenty or thirty times, easily, since the first time I read it in my mid-to-late teens. I can't say it's his best, but it's certainly one of the better works from what I consider to be his golden period. But in all those re-readings, I somehow failed to catch a rather huge logic hole in the plot - until realization suddenly burst in on me today.
The Puppet Masters is, arguably, the classic mind-controlling-aliens-invade story (if anyone has another candidate to suggest, please do). The Titans control their hosts (human and otherwise) through physical contact, most often at the spine just below the neck. They reproduce extremely rapidly, and soon posses an extremely large percentage of the population - large enough that the protagonist, Sam, calls it a "saturation" point, and the Titans actually drop the masquerade.
The goal of the Titans is to possess the entire human race - effectively, to spread themselves and their control to the uncontrolled portion of humanity. In North America, that uncontrolled population resides on the East and West coasts. They primarily advance this goal through infiltration, and also by using dogs and some other animals as carriers at night out of the Red (i.e. Titan-saturated) zone into the Green (free human) zone.
The goal of the uncontrolled humans, on the other hand, is to resist takeover, to free the enslaved population, and to kill the Titans.
Now here's the problem: early in the book, in chapter three, Heinlein introduces a drug called "tempus fugit". It's freely available in pill or injectable liquid. It increases subjective perception and reaction time by - well, Heinlein contradicts himself within the same paragraph:
...I took them occasionally to make a twenty-four-hour leave seem like a week. ... Primarily, though, they just stretch your subjective time by a factor of ten or more - chop time into finer bits so that you live longer for the same amount of clock-and-calendar. Sure, I know the horrible example of the man who died of old age in a month through taking the pills steadily...
Note that ten-to-one is given as the minimum alteration (despite Heinlein's earlier referral to an effective seven-to-one ratio). In chapter 21, Sam says "Suppose we have just twenty-four more hours; we could fine it down to a month, subjective time." Since he's proposing this to his new wife, this thirty-to-one dose is presumably not dangerous. Even higher subjective speeds are specified later, in chapter 24:
The doctor gave me a short shot of tempus and I spent the time - subjective, about three days; objective, less than an hour - studying stereo tapes through an overspeed scanner.
That is, at a minimum, a 72-to-1 increase in perceived time, and when he takes it, he's recuperating from serious burns. I'm afraid I've over-explained, but here's the basic point: why weren't the free humans dosed with tempus every time they invaded the infected zone? From the first time, when they were trying to get video proof of the titans' existence, to the last, when they went in to give antitoxin to the human population, tempus would have made their task about a thousand times easier. And yet they didn't use it, or even discuss using it.
And what about the Titans? They have access to tempus too, but are never mentioned as using it at all. Which raises an interesting point: does tempus affect the Titan who is controlling a human, if the human takes it? If so, the Titans could have created high-speed assault & infection agents very easily. On the other hand, if the tempus does not affect Titans, then that raises a whole new interesting question. What happens when a human being controlled by a Titan is dosed with tempus? Suddenly they're thinking and reacting ten to 72 (or more) times faster than their master. Can the Titans exert meaningful control over their host under those conditions? If so, virtually unstoppable high-speed infectors seem to be an obvious option for them.
And if not, why didn't the free humans send tempus-dosed troops to inject tempus into infected humans in zone Red?
Yet another odd lapse in the story appears in chapter 24:
What we needed was [...] something that would disable humans or render them unconscious without killing, and thereby permit us to rescue our compatriots. No such weapon was available, though the scientists were all busy on the problem. A "sleep" gas would have been perfect, but it is lucky that no such gas was known before the invasion, or the slugs could have used it against us.
But when we go back to chapter 8, when the Titan-ridden Sam is recaptured much earlier in the story:
With his other hand he thrust something against my side; I felt a prick, and then through me spread the warm tingle of a jolt of "Morpheus" taking hold. I made one more attempt to pull my gun free and sank forward.
Okay, it's an injection rather than a gas. But it knocks out a highly trained agent before he can do anything about it. It's even called "Morpheus", for god's sake! Leaving out the absolutely obvious possibility (which absolutely nothing in the book rules out) of sending tempus-dosed troops with Morpheus injectors to knock out the population, Morpheus alone seems to be an invaluable weapon for either side. They're obviously both aware of the drug. And yet it is only used once, in the above passage.
Perhaps I'm being unfair to Heinlein. But he himself described the care that he put into his work - I recall an anecdote he wrote about spending a week with his wife writing calculation after calculation on huge rolls of butcher paper, in order to derive a point about an orbit or trajectory that went into only one line in a novel. Two logic holes such as this in one of his golden age novels...well, that's just astonishing.
Or perhaps this is one of those occasions where his editors overrode his wishes and forced him to self-censor? I've only read the original edition, so I can't be sure.
Another minor point that occurred to me: To defend themselves from the Titans, the free humans adopt mandatory nudity. Several times, they mention a concern that the weather will soon be getting colder. Why wasn't transparent clothing ever considered?
It's still a great read. Heinlein was, without question, a master storyteller. Which may explain why I never noticed these gaping logic holes before!(less)
I've read a lot of books to my son. A lot. The Hobbit, all three books of The Lord of the Rings, the Narnia books, Lloyd Alexander's Chronicles of Pry...moreI've read a lot of books to my son. A lot. The Hobbit, all three books of The Lord of the Rings, the Narnia books, Lloyd Alexander's Chronicles of Prydain, six or seven of the original Doctor Dolittle books, several Three Investigators books, and far more. And he's loved almost all of them (I selected them carefully, from the books I loved best as I child and teen).
But so far, I think he loves the Great Brain series best.
Partly, I think that because they're so accessible. John D. Fitzgerald writes about his semi-fictionalized younger self in the true voice of a child - and that's quite an accomplishment. When his brother insults the father of a friend, the young John D. tells us that he has visions of that man coming down the street after them with a butcher knife. That's not the sort of language that most modern publishers allow in books for children, I believe, but it's how children think - some of the time. And over and over, as I was reading The Great Brain to my son, he'd stop me and ask me if the book really said what I'd just read.
You see, I sometimes can't resist adding a humorous comment or line now and then in some books - always, however, immediately admitting that the book didn't really say that. For this book I didn't add a word - but many of the passages in the book were so funny that my son suspected that I'd added them. I had to show him the lines in the book to convince him!
He pretty much had a huge grin on his face the whole time that I was reading. When I'd finish a chapter, he'd hold my arm and beg for another one. I can't think of higher praise for a book for children.
Each chapter in this book is a self-contained story, written in a beautifully straightforward style that some have compared to that of Mark Twain. John D. Fitzgerald (the author, as you'll note) chronicles his childhood as the younger brother of the infamous Great Brain, the greatest kid swindler in town. He is, of course, frequently the victim of the Great Brain.
In fact the Great Brain is pretty much a complete jerk, as we all noticed fairly quickly. But the stories are so entertaining that it doesn't matter.
A warning: the original edition and most later reissues are perfectly illustrated by Mercer Meyer. For some insane and inexplicable reason, there are a few editions out there that have been re-illustrated by other artists. This makes about as much sense as replacing the classic Tenniel illustrations in Alice In Wonderland (which has, of course, also been done. What were they thinking?).
Another point: the story begins in 1896. Although the town has electricity and street lights, one of the stories features the installation of the first flush toilet in town. It's hysterical, but it's also a great opportunity to explain something about history to young children in a way that they'll enjoy and remember.
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