Andrew
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Kin is the first volume of a new urban fantasy graphic novel series by two masters of the form.
While a straight forward synopsis might make the story seem obvious, there's a sense of existential dread that really gives everything a kick.
Everyone here has an agenda of sorts, and what the characters want isn't always as clear as it might seem at first glance.
The story also has some genuinely "grown up" moments that push the narrative beyond the usual fantasy fare. ]]>
Actual rating: 3.5-lean 3.
No matter what promises they make on the cover you can be pretty sure that you know what you're going to get when in a Wolverine book. He's a tragic character with built-in claws, instant healing, and indestructible skeleton, so the only way he can be hurt is emotionally. The metaphors write themselves, and while he chops up hundreds of people, it's all about anger funneled through regret, and there's plenty of that on display here.
As a rule Millar doesn't swim in the world of Marvel characters like some authors. Even when his story is part of the main plot of an ongoing comic, like this was originally, he uses the toys he wants, the way he wants to, and then goes off to his next project. That's actually a good thing, since this book stands alone and tells a complete story, although it involves enough details concerning Hydra, Shield, Electra, and some obscure Daredevil lore that if you haven't been reading Marvel comics for the last 30 years you may find yourself running over to Wikipedia to make sense of some of it all.
As for the story itself, it starts strong, pulling some neat tricks and clearly defining Wolverine as one of the deadliest characters in the Marvel Universe. But ultimately it doesn't have the courage of its convictions, and what starts out as an interesting reversal ends up being a bit by the numbers by the time the last half of the book begins. It's still a fun ride, but not quite the epic that you're expecting after the first fifty or so pages.
The art in this book is fantastic. I've been a fan of John Romita Jr. since I was a kid, but he's really upped his game in the last few years, and while his work is stylized he clearly been willing to take on new challenges and push outside of the limitations of that style. The work he's doing with Millar on the "Kick-Ass" series is probably the best he's ever done, and you can really see him getting ready for that challenge here. ]]>
Having a look at both "All You Need Is Kill" sounds more fun. But I'd love to read a sample of the actual writing first. ]]>
As Monty Python once said: "Welcome to da middle of da film."
Abercrombie's second book in "The First Law" series has one of my favorite structures; multiple groups that leapfrog each other from chapter to chapter, allowing the author to layer on cliffhangers, keeping you constantly reading as you try to find out what happened next to the one group, and then reading more to figure out what's going on with the other. If it works, and it does here, it can keep you reading far longer than you thought you were going to when you picked the book up.
Abercrombie is also more confident as a writer here, and it's a smoother and more cohesive narrative, not that there were any real issues in the first book.
For all it's good points, and there are plenty, the book comes dangerously close to tripping my "all the female characters are/were whores and slaves" alarm. And to be honest, while it manages to technically skirt that issue, I do wish there were some stronger and more capable women in this book. I understand that can be difficult when you have a pseudo-medieval world, but if you crack open the Shakespeare there are plenty of good examples of how you can make it work.
Those issues aside, it's an engaging read, and you begin to see the emotional journey of the characters as they're transformed by their adventures, and the circumstances of the story.
While I've given the book four stars, I'd really have to say that this is a true 3.5 book. I'm glad I read it, I can heartily recommend it, but there are some flaws that, in retrospect, keep me from doing so unreservedly. ]]>
At the end of the book Scalzi thanks Robert Heinlein, and it's clear why. There's a lot of Starship Troopers in this book, and more than a little bit of Haldeman's Forever war.
But beyond sharing a similar plot and structure, the books share a stylistic similarity that's almost shocking. Old Man's War could have easily been written forty years ago, and while the story moves along at a brisk and constantly entertaining pace, it often seems to gloss over the details. It's a book where things are the way they are, and much like the military protagonist it's your duty to accept them and move on with the business of dealing with it.
Clearly I liked this book quite a bit, as I gave it four stars. And if you look at the reviews and general discussion that surround this book it has the aura of a modern classic, and there's no doubt that Scalzi can tell an efficient and entertaining tale. That said, I wish that it had a little more heft to the world. It didn't t need to reach the depth and complexity of a Stephen Baxter novel, but as it is, I never quite buy into the premises that power the plot.
And if you're okay with that, it's an entertaining ride. The main character discovers what it means to be a genuine hero, the battle scenes are engaging, and the aliens all have uniquely quirky otherworldy qualities. There's even an emotional arc to the book that forms a solid spine, and keeps it from being a boring bug hunt.
It's all the stuff that was the hallmark of 60's space-opera, and for those of us who read the "good stuff" as kids, it's fun to go back and reconnect with that kind of world,especially when you can get through the entire book in a day or two. ]]>
by Stephen Baxter
As I remember it this is the "good one". ]]>
by Michael Blumlein
I agree with the sentiment, but I think his conclusion doesn't really cut to the heart of the issue.
It's not that people simply "love a story". To me it's the human ability to imagine ourselves in the context of danger, without taking into account the actual likelihood of that danger occurring to us, that makes it dramatic.
We imagine ourselves in situations of terror, and then secretly congratulate ourselves for surviving things that were never going to happen to us in the first place.
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