Stephen J. Matlock's Blog, page 47
January 29, 2014
Review: Zulu Heart
Zulu Heart by Steven Barnes
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is just a fine book. It is the sequel, of course, to Lion’s Blood, but I have to hand it to Mr. Barnes in that the story and the characters have advanced.
We still have Kai and Aiden, brothers beneath the skin in a nation on the North American continent where things are delightfully awry compared to today–somehow in the distant past it was the African nations, and not the Europeans, who conquered the world with learning and art and culture and military prowess.
Kai is now functioning as the Wakil of his estate-empire, a slaveowner of northern Europeans, and now-freed slave Aiden is living with his wife Sophia, when challenged occur that drive them both in directions they neither expect nor want. Nandi and Laminya are back in the picture as well, and there is betrayal and love and death and the ecstasy of triumph. Familiar faces of wisdom return in Babatunde, and there is the tension of truth as a tension between faith and life.
Aiden will set out on a journey to find his long-lost sister, separated at the moment of enslavement, and Kai must walk an extremely fine line to manage the competing powers of Africa that would seek to divide and conquer the nations of America even further. There are shifts of political power that could result in disaster with a single wrong move, and there are assassins ready to strike a dagger into those he loves and protects. Swordplay and fights and love and betrayal swirl throughout the book.
It is a wonderful sequel, and thankfully not just an extension of the previous story–that is, it isn’t just Part B. It is an expansion of the people and the depths of their existence.
I loved Kai in the first book, and now I find that I would like to meet him some day in a world where all the good things of life that I know and imagine come together.
Very well done.
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January 5, 2014
Review: Between the Bridge and the River
Between the Bridge and the River by Craig Ferguson
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
This is a dreadful, unfunny, pretentious pile of trash. I got to 48 pages and stopped reading–there is not one bit of wit or freshness in this book. It is written because the guy has a TV personality. But there is nothing of value so far.
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January 4, 2014
Review: Very Far Away from Anywhere Else
Very Far Away from Anywhere Else by Ursula K. Le Guin
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
My lord, this is a very fine book.
Ms. Le Guin does not write one word more than necessary, but within the laconic toolset she writes a story.
There is Owen, and there is Natalie. Owen is intelligent but not quite smart. Natalie is talented but not able to communicate her vision.
They stumble into each other, part, and come together more fiercely.
They learn that they themselves must learn who they are.
It is all there in 90 or so pages with generous margins, but it is _all there_.
The only thing that keeps me from despair as a writer when I read Ms. Le Guin’s works is that at least I don’t have to try to retell _this_ story, because it is complete and whole and good.
December 29, 2013
Review: LIFE The Day Kennedy Died: Fifty Years Later: LIFE Remembers the Man and the Moment
LIFE The Day Kennedy Died: Fifty Years Later: LIFE Remembers the Man and the Moment by The Editors of LIFE
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A very good reminder of what it was like 50 years ago. Not just a book, but a full reprint of the November 29, 1963 edition of LIFE magazine, complete with the other articles and ads, giving a great snapshot of what it was like to be alive back in those days.
The book is a compilation of stories and pictures from that time, including the “Zapruder film” (and some of the missing frames), articles about Oswald and Ruby, and lots of reminiscences from people who recall where they were and what they were thinking when they first heard the words “The President has been shot!”
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November 28, 2013
River of Dreams—Released 28-Nov-2013
“River of Dreams: Essays, Short Stories & Flash Fiction” went on sale today at noon Pacific.
Get it here:
Review: Lion’s Blood
Lion’s Blood by Steven Barnes
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I was not prepared to love this book as much as I did.
This was recommended to me by a friend, and I picked it up somewhat as a curiousity. I like sci-fi and alternate histories, and thought this might be like dozens of others I’ve read.
It is the telling of an America where Alexander the Great didn’t die, and didn’t go on to conquer the East but instead conquered the West, setting up the rise of the Abyssinian and Egyptian kingdoms, changing the course of Western Civilization, and bringing about the discovery of the American continents by black Africans.
That is the gist of the background, but the story is about Kai, a young man of a ruling family of Bilalistan, roughly equivalent to the states of the Deep South in America. It’s 1863, the western territories are threatened by the frontier clashes between New Djibouti and the Aztec empire, and political intrigue in the East give rise to a struggle for power and dominance.
Kai is the younger son of a powerful but constrained man who rules over a large estate somewhere in East Texas (not called by that name, of course). He is trained to be the thoughtful, wise, but second son–he learns to fight from his uncle Malik, a strong, powerful, taciturn, rigid warrior; he learns wisdom from Babatunde, a Sufi adherent in a land of strict Islam; he learns love from Sophia and Nandi and especially the unreachable Lamiya. And he learns unteachable lessons of leadership, trust, betrayal, friendship, and release from his once-personal slave Aidan, stolen from Ireland and brought to America through the Middle Passage.
The story was enjoyable at first, but I read it in spurts. Then somewhere around the middle Mr. Barnes convinced me. This was a real man in this story, coming to terms with who he is as a man, learning that teaching and wisdom and culture all are guide to action, but it is in the heart of the man where the choices come, and it is in one’s own actions where one’s humanity is expressed.
I have to say, I fell in love with Kai. He was a real, living person in this book, flawed, conflicted, sometimes confident, sometimes despairing, sometimes resigned, but he continued forward. Of all the books I’ve read this year, this was the standout.
I was so deeply impressed with the humanness of it all–the people who come into the book are real and vivid and different. I felt as if I was living with them, and when events occurred that were foreign to me, I stayed with it, because I wanted to learn what this was all about.
Mr. Barnes blends in a mythical story of African sovereignty and empire with true-to-life characters who respond to events and who act according to their own, very real natures. It was believable from start to finish.
I am looking forward to the next book, which promises more about Kai and his life.
Now of course one thing must be mentioned, because it is simply there, yet it is not the focus of the story, and it is this: there is a subtle retelling of the story of American slavery here, but the roles are of course reversed. Where America of our real timeline had enslaved black Africans for centuries, in this mythical timeline it is an America (of sorts) that enslaves white Europeans. It is not a parody of slavery nor is it simply a reversal. Mr. Barnes has thought things through, and events that involve slavery and the interaction between slave and master are a retelling of “real” American slavery, but with the thoughtful twist of “This is what it would be like if the black Muslim Africans were the slave-owners and the white Christian Europeans were the slaves.” It is sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, and often eye-blinking to see what it was like, and to feel sympathy for one’s “own” people, and then to think “Oh my gosh. This is what it was like for _them_.”
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November 22, 2013
Book Giveaway! “River of Dreams”
Enter to win–
https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/73329-river-of-dreams-essays-short-stories-flash-fiction
My latest book, to be published and ready for sale on November 30, 2013.
No purchase necessary to be eligible to win.
November 12, 2013
Official Judges’ Response to THE EXILE RETURNS
Here is the official judges’ responses to my Flash Fiction Entry “The Exile Returns” (http://stephenmatlock.com/2013/09/the-exile-returns/)
WHAT THE JUDGE(S) LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY
This piece was quite inventive. I liked the details of the fantastical world with which you imbued the narrative. Excellent character development, as well. Really nice work
You have a clear knack for fantasy writing! There are some lovely turns of phrase here, and your grasp of structure and narrative momentum is really strong. Kudos
WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK
I think you got a trifle mired in too many details considering the limitations as to length here. It reads as if it were a longer piece, or wants to be a longer piece, but you were forced to edit, edit, edit. You might consider sticking with the tale and adding to it
In the beginning, there are a few too many cliché fantasy marks for me: the “elf high-prince of the Golden City,” maidens, a Council… all feels ripped out of Middle Earth. But slowly you reveal yourself as having more unique concerns, and I hope you can find a way to truly build a unique world without relying on the traditional tropes
November 2, 2013
Jenny Returns
He walks the mall by day seeking the eternal Jenny, but there is no one who comes close until this day, and he aims to keep her his.
A mall is no place to spend your days. It’s a way station beckoning with misdirection, curtains and sheets to cover and soften dreary existence.
It was nearly time for the mall to open and I was bored to death.
Most mornings people cluttered the entrances. I stayed back, in the telephone alcove, long since removed with cell phones everywhere. When I was innocent I’d done what other young bucks had done: I honed in on girls and talked up my soon-to-be historic exploits. That phone booth was crowded with young things talking to friends they could not be parted from, not for one minute. Close enough, brushing a ficus or wandering to look in the window, you might overhear them, feign interest in a display while they used the reflection adjust their hair, always with hope they’d look at you, maybe turn to friends and giggle, maybe make that second look.
The guard opened the doors, and this Monday two weeks ‘til Christmas there was a crowd. Mostly moms with a list, or older women with clipped coupons headed for the big box stores.
And there she was, the free space for my bingo card. She turned into Dorfmans and I followed, unseen. She stopped at cosmetics, idly glancing down, talking on the phone to Marsha-something. High breathy voice. She picked up a lipstick. Not the right color at all. Much too red. But who’d listen to me, some stranger?
“Let me send you this.” She held the phone to capture her incarnadine lips, and I ambled up behind her. A quick flash, and she sent the photo.
I walked away before the ending, the rising voice, the stumbled answers about a stranger ruining her selfie.
I disappeared into the crowd, maybe ten or fifteen feet, imagining her perfume—one of those light citrusy types. She wasn’t so confident now, and pretended to try on earrings, using the mirror to see behind her, trying to match the face in that photo.
Her voice was lower, confidential, tinged with hysteria. “No, I do not know who he is or how he got there.” She jabbed to end the call, her elbow holding her purse close to her hip as she strode down the marble floors.
Good. I could see her in the sunlight over the food court. The play area was now Santa’s Workshop, with moms pushing strollers, pulling screaming kids. I slipped even closer.
She stopped at the info booth to show Cliff. “You know this guy?”
Good ol’ Cliff. He shook his head and sighed. “Yeah. We all know him. Used to work here. Girlfriend died here, and he got a little crazy. Thinks he sees her sometimes. Harmless, but call 911 if you see him again. More of a bother, really.”
Good ol’ Cliff. A bother, huh?
He was talking to the guard station, and I caught her name. “Yeah, Madeleine Jenkins. It’s him, again.”
“That’s it? ‘On the lookout’? I’m just some blonde looking for trouble?”
“We take complaints seriously at Fairhaven Mall. But he won’t touch you. We spot him, we’ll take care of him. He just shows up now and then. Can’t do much unless he does something stupid. It’s a public space; people do stupid things. Stupid, not illegal.”
“Harassment is illegal.”
“If he harasses you, we can deal with that. If you see him again, let security know.”
Just a few nudges and whispers led her to the bench where Jenny and I had been sitting when she passed. We’d shared our hopes, kissed, even touched in public. We were not-quite-arguing about chick flicks versus real movies, and she’d gasped, and sucked in her breath. Then, dead. Stroke. Nineteen and a sophomore in college, like me.
I was screaming at first, for someone, for anyone to come and goddam help, but she was gone before her head hit the marble floor.
That moment, laughing and arguing, the shaft of sunlight as a halo of cornsilk, was my happiest. And the saddest, tying joy and sorrow to that bench.
Then I was a blur of grief and shuttered emotions. My guys offered me other women as solace. I tried that. Tried not doing anything but flicking through photo albums, wandering around school, lost, avoiding classes and friends.
After a dark time I found myself hanging around the mall, hoping to see someone like Jenny.
Cliff was right. I was harmless. Nothing I could do, really. That part of life was over. I just wanted to watch. Maybe remember.
She saw the bench in the sunlight by the fountain and sat down, just like Jenny. I was going to sit at the bench when Cliff walked up.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
“Why?”
“Just wanted to be sure you felt safe. Haven’t seen him, if you’re wondering.” He wandered away.
She scowled. “This mall creeps me.” She pulled out a lipstick—that same too-red color. Wasn’t right for her.
I swatted the lipstick from her hands.
She cried out, looking to see who’d done it.
The lipstick rolled over to the fountain’s edge, and I pushed it into the water. She stood up, disbelief washing her face.
“What the—?” She walked over and looked in. “Well. Maybe not really my color. Maybe something less red.” She shook her head and walked towards the entrance.
I moved beside her with my arm on her shoulder. She shivered. My Jenny. Sensible as always. She called Marsha-something again. “You’ll never believe it. Dropped that new Crimson Slash right in the fountain. Fifteen bucks. Gone. But it looked like death on me.” She walked out the door and off to her waiting car, I suppose.
I stayed behind where I belonged, in the mall. Maybe another day Jenny would show up again and we might walk together, she alive, full of energy and fun, and me, here, in the shadows.
A mall is a terrible place to die, and an even more terrible place to wander.
October 16, 2013
Another Good Review on Amazon
It’s only natural that a book’s language should match the time period and setting. Stephen J. Matlock does just that – naturally weaving in descriptions that match the time and the place – which is difficult to do unless you are a master of your craft.
The author masterfully tells a coming-of-age story relevant for any reader, for he tells the story of understanding, honesty, thinking for yourself, standing up for what is right and what you believe in, and more. The story goes deeper than just a boy and an unlikely friend and deeper even than racial tension in a small Texas town. There is fighting, murder, revenge – all the makings of an intriguing read.
The only part that caught me by surprise was the climax in the middle of the book, setting me adrift in a sea of unexpected plot turns, but Matlock firmly led me ashore when the subplot he had been building broke through the surface, tying all the elements together in the end.
