C.A. Gray's Blog, page 30

And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie

Today’s podcast comes from this blog review of And Then There Were None

Check out this episode!

The post And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie appeared first on C.A. Gray.

Review of Starflight

This was a fun read! It reminded me a lot of the Lunar Chronicles, and particularly of Cinder.

Solara is an orphaned teenage mechanic living in an intergalactic universe – hence the connection in my mind to Cinder. In this world, misdeeds are tattooed across the knuckles so that all the world can see them; Solara trusted the wrong boy in the past, and now finds herself marked. This dims her already poor prospects. She was a great student, but was expelled from flight school as a result. Then in a desperate situation, she finds herself indentured as a servant to the boy in her class who hated and mocked her the most. But she needs her passage paid for, so she puts up with it, distasteful as it may seem.

Doran, said boy turned master, starts out a miserable rotten human being, so it takes a good deal of suspension of disbelief to buy that he’ll eventually become the love interest. People rarely change that completely, that fast. The inciting incident of their adventures together is when Doran threatens to drop her off-world at a place where she’s very likely to starve to death or be sold into prostitution, which it’s kind of hard to forgive him for later. A semi-deux ex machina moment saves Solara from this fate: she turns out to have the perfect weapon on her for just such an eventuality, one that happens to wipe Doran’s memory. But, Solara realizes, in order for her escape plan to work, she’ll have to take Doran with her.

While he’s thus incapacitated, Solara convinces him that he was the servant and she the master. They barter passage onto a ship of misfits that reminds me intensely of “Firefly” (another reason to love the story). What follows is a madcap romp across the universe with ever-increasing stakes as Solara, Doran, and the crew accumulate enemies. Meanwhile, of course, Solara and Doran fall in love. Plot twists worthy of a soap opera top it all off, but the prose is so lighthearted that I’d probably have gone with nearly anything by the end.

My rating: ****

Language: none

Violence: present but not gratuitous

Sexual content: present but not gratuitous

Political content: none

The post Review of Starflight appeared first on C.A. Gray.

Titan by Ron Chernow

Today’s podcast comes from this blog review of Titan. 

Check out this episode!

The post Titan by Ron Chernow appeared first on C.A. Gray.

Review of And Then There Were None

As murder mysteries go, this has to be one of the best. I guess that’s why it’s one of the top selling murder mysteries of all time. And what a title! Absolutely perfect, though I understand that until recent decades it was called “Ten Little Indians.” I see why, from the story, but that’s nowhere near as compelling.

The concept is a bit contrived and gimmicky, but that’s ok, since it’s set up from the get-go, so the reader can suspend her disbelief on just that one point. The story takes place on an isolated and sometimes impassable island of bare rock, with only one large manor house on the whole thing. It was once owned by a celebrity, so it was in the gossip columns before it was purchased by one U.N. Owen. This person, in writing, invited ten strangers to the island. Given the language of the letter sent to each and the intrigue of the place itself, they all came… but then the host was nowhere to be found. On the first night, a gramophone recording indicts all ten of them for a murder they committed, though each was done in such a way as to make it impossible for them to ever be convicted for it in a court of law. The place is called Soldier Island, and a centerpiece of the dining table downstairs shows ten little china Indians. In each room is printed the morbid Ten Little Indians poem, in which each Indian dies in a different way.

Then, the guests begin to die–and in ways that fit the poem perfectly. At first it might be accidental, but as soon as two of them have died, they realize it isn’t. They search the island thoroughly, realize that no one is there but themselves, and put together that U.N. Owen, the murderer, must in fact be one of them.

I read this aloud with my husband and we raced through it. Christie’s prose is very simple, her sentences short. She says only what needs to be said and not a bit more–there’s no flowery descriptions, and she saves any exposition of the characters’ back stories for when it absolutely needs to be told. I can see why she’s one of the best selling authors of all time.

My rating: ****1/2

Language: none

Violence: present, but even though some were gruesome, they were “polite” as far as the description that made it on to the page

Sexual content: none

Political content: none

The post Review of And Then There Were None appeared first on C.A. Gray.

Fate’s Ransom by Jeff Wheeler

Today’s podcast review comes from this blog review of Fate’s Ransom. 

Check out this episode!

The post Fate’s Ransom by Jeff Wheeler appeared first on C.A. Gray.

Review of Titan: The Life of John D. Rockefeller, Sr

Chernow is quickly becoming one of my favorite historians! While I realize that nearly every author probably can’t help but include some element of “spin,” the depth and detail of his research helped to convince me that he was as intellectually honest as he could possibly be with the evidence available.

I went in to this biography with a preconceived notion of John D Rockefeller, Sr; I thought he was a greedy scoundrel who was more or less responsible for the state of modern medicine as we know it: specifically, “sick care” which involves treating symptoms with drugs that suppress and cause a myriad of other problems, rather than trying to get to the root cause and heal the patient. I believed, based on what I had heard, that he was not content with the billions he had made in Standard Oil and the railroads, and that the Flexnor Report of 1910 was his attempt to squash all competition and achieve a complete monopoly in medicine, too.

As I listened to the story of his very difficult upbringing, with a bigomist charlatan father who abandoned his mother and the family, I felt sorry for John. I admired his hard work and determination to pull himself up by his bootstraps and make something of himself despite his background, and his bent toward philanthropy even from an early age, when he had very little to give away. He was an extremely devout Baptist, with vision and conviction that God would prosper him not for his own sake, but so that he could be a blessing to the world. Of course his strict Baptist views had their down sides–he was a bit of a Pharisee, not only in his own life but in how he raised his family too–but Chernow convinced me that he was genuine.

As Chernow chronicled Rockefeller’s rise in the business world, the creation of Standard Oil, etc, I kept waiting for the turning point, when Rockefeller would turn “to the dark side.” I was confused when it just didn’t come. He was cutthroat, surely, and he did drive competitors out of business and form a decided monopoly–even though he did what he could to make it look like he hadn’t. He’d purposely allow a few little minor competitors to survive so that when accused of monopoly, he could point to them like a fig leaf and claim, “no I haven’t, see?” But, so far as I could tell, nothing he did was truly illegal. And meanwhile, he was always personally extremely generous. His terrible reputation seems to have stemmed almost entirely from a journalist with a personal vendetta against him because she blamed him for her father’s death, due to the father’s working conditions. Ida Tarbell published a series of exposes in a newspaper that captured the entire world’s attention, in a serial style like one of Charles Dickens’ novels. During that time, Rockefeller became one of the most hated men in the world. Some of what Tarbell wrote about him was true, but some were misleading “spin” and outright lies. I found myself sympathizing with Rockefeller and his family as the stress of this took its toll on their health.

Still, I waited to hear how Rockefeller became the founder of the monopoly of allopathic medicine, particularly since it was mentioned on several occasions that when he faced his own health challenges, he was partial to osteopathy, homeopathy, herbal medicine, and natural cures. It wasn’t until he was well into retirement that he ventured into the medical arena, and he did so as a philanthropist, not as a business venture. He also did not do so personally; his charitable giving had long become such a monumental undertaking that he hired Frederick T. Gates (no relation to Bill; I checked) to distribute his wealth and decide where the money should go. The focus on medicine was Gates’ idea. Gates, too, was the one who had a bone to pick with homeopathy; Rockefeller himself always preferred it and found himself overruled by his various boards when his own ventures helped to crush the chiropractic, osteopathic, and homeopathic colleges around the world. At the same time, I can almost see why that happened, and there was some justification for it. There was no standardization of medical learning, and many of the schools had very substandard education and little to no entrance requirements. The idea of requiring a certain standard seemed a good one. I suppose, like anything else, the question then becomes–who decides what those standards are? And what’s their incentive to do so? A good idea can easily be corrupted when men’s own self-interests get involved.

Ultimately, Chernow succeeded in changing my perspective on Rockefeller. I don’t see him as a villain anymore. I think he was a flawed man, of course, but he had many admirable qualities and he overcame a great deal of hardship both in his youth and later, when his wealth made it seem as though everyone wanted his pocketbook rather than himself. The way Chernow tells it, Rockefeller managed his extreme wealth and all the pitfalls that come with it better than most would have done, in a similar position.

My rating: ****1/2

Language: none

Violence: none

Sexual content: none

Political content: none

The post Review of Titan: The Life of John D. Rockefeller, Sr appeared first on C.A. Gray.

The Time Machine and The Invisible Man, HG Wells

Today’s podcast comes from this blog review of The Time Machine and The Invisible Man. 

Check out this episode!

The post The Time Machine and The Invisible Man, HG Wells appeared first on C.A. Gray.

Review of Fate’s Ransom

Ugh! Wow. I have strong feelings about this one, both good and bad…

I’ve invested a lot of time in Ransom, the hero of this tale, since this is the fourth and final book. On one hand, all of Wheelers’ stories tend to feel quite similar, as do his heroes… but that’s kind of what keeps me coming back. He’s one of VERY few modern authors who writes real heroes anymore. His main characters have true integrity based upon something larger and more important than themselves and their own desires. Lord Ransom serves The Fountain (God), and because of his loyalty to do the Fountain’s bidding, he also stands by his oath to serve the Argentine line, kings who wear the Hollow Crown–no matter what. This is THE defining trait which drives Ransom’s every decision. And it’s tested throughout this entire story.

This last installment opens with the death of the previous king at the hands of the almost all-powerful poisoner, Alex. With his dying breath, the Argentine king told Ransom that he wanted his brother, Jon-Landon, to be his successor. Unfortunately, Jon-Landon is evil, and Ransom and everyone else knows it. But, because Ransom has vowed to serve the Argentines and that is his king’s dying wish, he makes the king’s choice known–and feels the Fountain’s approval for it. The Hollow Crown goes to Jon-Landon, who turns out to be every bit as capricious, selfish, and wicked as everyone anticipated. He also envies Ransom, and sets him up for failure at every turn, tempting him into betrayal. But the Fountain makes it clear to Ransom that he must continue to serve Jon-Landon–not for his own sake, but for that of his son Devon. Devon must be the next king, and if they depose Jon-Landon, the entire kingdom will fall.

I so appreciated this higher perspective of what was going on in the action of the story, because it told me exactly what I could expect (in part because I’ve read so many of Wheeler’s stories now). I knew Ransom would be sorely tempted, but would stand firm and maintain his integrity, no matter the cost. I knew that because of it, even though it would look like his loyalty continued to enable a wicked regime, the Fountain saw more than he did, and his faithful service would turn out to be the only possible way forward. All Ransom had to go on was his trust in the Fountain, yet the reader knows that his trust is well-placed. I also anticipated that Wheeler would redeem even Jon-Landon: that Ransom’s goodness would prick his conscience, win his affection, and ultimately change him into a better man by the end. I was not disappointed in this.

But. BUT! About 3/4 through the book, the foreshadowing of a sad ending for Ransom started to come fast and furious. I hate sad endings, so I started to emotionally detach on purpose, but I still had to finish it (I’d come this far, after all). Then I thought, the foreshadowing is SO thick, perhaps it’ll be thwarted after all? Perhaps Wheeler is just setting us up to expect one thing, and then there will be a sudden loophole that will make everything all right? Maybe???

Nope.

I knocked off a star for the emotional trauma.

My rating: ****

Language: none

Violence: fantasy only

Sexual content: none

Political content: none

The post Review of Fate’s Ransom appeared first on C.A. Gray.

The Reckoning, James Byron Huggins

This week’s podcast comes from this blog review of The Reckoning. 

Check out this episode!

The post The Reckoning, James Byron Huggins appeared first on C.A. Gray.

Review of The Time Machine and The Invisible Man

Classics, in my experience, are either fantastic or dreadful, and rarely in between. This pair was the rare exception. Both of them were a bit on the boring side. This was probably due to lack of characterization, and slow pacing, to my modern sensibilities. Both felt rather episodic. The only reason I persisted was because both stories had unique premises, as well as a morality tale which intrigued me.

In The Time Machine, I couldn’t quite tell what the moral was, though. The time traveler spends the bulk of the story some 80,000 years in the future. There, humans essentially resemble little doughy smurfs, the way Wells describes them. They are fully grown, but like weak, stupid, sweet little children. They frolic in the flowers and with the butterflies, live communally, do no work, and know no difficulties or resistance. In fact, they live at a time when mankind has long since evolved to the point where he has solved all his problems: there are not even any weeds or annoying bugs anymore. But the time traveler has the distinct impression that, because these creatures lack all grit, determination, and mettle, this is the sunset of humanity. They won’t live much past this age, he believes. I kept trying to figure out as I read what his politics were; it felt like he was trying to make a point about his own day and age, but I don’t know enough about the circumstances in which he lived to riddle out what it was.

In The Invisible Man, the moral was easier to identify, but he sure took a long time in getting to it. The entire tale seemed to be back story until the very end. Only then do we learn that the invisible man is named Griffin, and he is an albino as well as a genius chemist, who found a way to turn his cells invisible. (The fact that he is albino is significant, because, in Wells’ explanation, his irises would otherwise still be visible.) For about the first half of the book, he’s just a mystery, and it takes awhile for the people of the town where he’s suddenly turned up to even realize he’s invisible, since he wraps himself in garments from head to toe to fool them. Then he stumbles upon an old colleague, who serves as a pretext to tell his story to the reader. When he finishes his tale of discovery and of the hardships that came along with it, then he finally gets down to his nefarious plot to commit wanton mayhem and murder in order to preside over a reign of terror. After all, an invisible man can get away with anything, so long as he has an accomplice. I think the whole point of the story was to illustrate the depravity of man, if he lacks the restraints of society to keep him in check… but the moral in my opinion was poorly delivered. Nothing in the story led us to expect that from Griffin until he suddenly announced it. Prior to that moment, he just seemed bumbling and woebegone. True, he stole here and there, but that was of necessity due to his condition.

Even though War of the Worlds is another classic I’ve never read, I’m not sure I’ll continue reading Wells. Then again, I read that these were earlier works of his… maybe he got better at the craft with time.

My rating: ***

Language: none

Sexual content: none

Violence: some murders at the end but they weren’t gratuitous

Political content: probably? But I couldn’t riddle out what it was (and historical anyway)

The post Review of The Time Machine and The Invisible Man appeared first on C.A. Gray.