Matthew Stover
Century Books
ISBN: 0-7126-8427-1
The battle between the Galactic Republic and the Separatists who challenge it has raged for years, the Jedi who fight in it forced to watch as their Order becomes more militaristic with every passing day. The Republic, too, is changing, Chancellor Palpatine’s control of the senate granting him power unheard of in peacetime, all in the name of protecting democracy. The Jedi Council fear that he will be reluctant to surrender it once the war is ended, and tension between the Chancellor and the Order has never been greater. Obi-wan Kenobi, tasked to hunt down and destroy the Separatist commander, General Grievous,
Set against that epic conflict, Anakin Skywalker’s fear of losing his wife seems insignificant. But visions of her death torment him, and in his weakened state Darth Sidious sees an opportunity to turn the great young hope of the Jedi to his side. The time of the Empire draws near…
Between this book and the blockbuster of the same name, there lies the quintessential Star Wars. The cinema has the special effects, the visual spectacle, and the embarrassing dialogue; the book has pacing, characterisation, and fewer plot holes. Even better, the characters talk like actual people. All it lacks are the images to accompany its depth, but even they appear unbidden in the mind’s eye. The great tragedy here is that Lucasfilm didn’t let Matthew Stover write the script, rather than just the novelization.
Novelization is perhaps the wrong word. This is a novel in its own right, bearing uncanny similarity to the film of the same name yet differing just enough to make it a superior beast. Lines one would rather forget are absent from here, replaced by often-subtle dialogue that gives meaning to otherwise inexplicable actions. Stover’s Anakin Skywalker is no whiny teenager in search of glory, but a genuinely tormented hero unable to ever live up to his own expectations. Obi-Wan Kenobi is modest, civilised and gentle, the perfect Jedi. Others, too, revealed previously unseen depths, thanks to the author’s clever little narrative tricks. A handful of freeze-frame moments where heroes and villains are broken down and discussed almost directly with the reader should shatter any suspension of disbelief, but they don’t. They frame the action perfectly instead.
Ah, action. The meat of any Star Wars novel is always the action, lightsabers humming and blasters blasting. There is no shortage of it here, described in loving detail. Stover clearly enjoys writing battle scenes, and it shows. The lightsaber duels in particular reveal his delight, each one a treatise on stances and forms and each one, as they should be, a metaphor for the psychological struggle between the combatants. This is fun, but it is serious fun.
Far superior to the film it parallels, ‘Revenge of the Sith’ is an absolute joy to read. Stripping the tale down to its core, the focus of the novel is always Anakin Skywalker’s transformation into something dark and nasty. Yoda’s games with the Wookies are gone, as are many of the ‘comedy’ droid moments. Even the battle between Yoda and Darth Sidious is pared down to a handful of paragraphs, because the real story lies elsewhere. Such ruthless editing is admirable, and it makes a tighter, brutally effective story. ‘Revenge of the Sith’ finds a place on my ‘if only it were a film!’ shelf, and whenever I read it I’ll know: that’s the way it should have been.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Tuesday, 1 November 2005
Sunday, 2 October 2005
Star Wars: Labyrinth of Evil
James Luceno
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-345-47572-0
The Clone Wars have spread across the galaxy, the Republic’s Jedi-led army in constant conflict with the druids of the Separatist forces. After countless battles and the loss of hundreds of Jedi, the war is finally turning. The homeworld of the Trade Federation is invaded and the Jedi heroes Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are there to hunt down the Federation’s Viceroy, Nute Gunray. One of the Separatist figureheads and the being responsible for the Invasion of Naboo thirteen years before, Gunray is high on the Republic’s wanted list, but when he stops to loot his most treasured possessions before fleeing he leaves behind a clue that could lead to the man behind the war: the Sith Lord, Darth Sidious.
As the war rages and the extent of Sidious’ machinations becomes clear, Kenobi and Skywalker must find their way through the maze of deception. Can they uncover the Sith Lord’s true identity before becoming trapped in his web?
As the book leading into the opening scene of a movie entitled ‘Revenge of the Sith’, chances are that the answer is no. ‘Labyrinth of Evil’ is hampered by the fact that all of its surprises and intrigues are pre-empted by the existence of the film to follow. Only a reader with total ignorance of Episode III’s content will get much from ‘Labyrinth of Evil’ and it seems likely that the reader of a Star Wars novel would have anything but. As it is, this novel is a placeholder, designed to fill in the gaps for the sake of completeness.
Still, other similar works have managed to overcome these hefty disadvantages and achieve some level of merit. ‘Labyrinth of Evil’, unfortunately, lets the side down. It is a shallow, dull example of style over substance, a Hollywood action movie in literary form. It reads like a screenplay for Episode Two-And-A-Half, lacking the visual element that makes blockbusters entertaining. The gunfire and explosions never stop long enough for the reader to develop an understanding of the characters, while the constant danger in which our heroes are placed has a numbing effect. Even if the reader did manage to overcome paper-thin characterisation and come to care about Luceno’s versions of Anakin and Obi-Wan, there’s only so much one can take.
The result is a novel that fails to engage the reader on any significant level, the fictional equivalent of white noise in your speakers; you can listen to it, but in the end it doesn’t really mean anything. ‘Labyrinth of Evil’ never rises above filler material, and so I condemn it to my ‘Star Wars Completists only’ shelf.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-345-47572-0
The Clone Wars have spread across the galaxy, the Republic’s Jedi-led army in constant conflict with the druids of the Separatist forces. After countless battles and the loss of hundreds of Jedi, the war is finally turning. The homeworld of the Trade Federation is invaded and the Jedi heroes Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are there to hunt down the Federation’s Viceroy, Nute Gunray. One of the Separatist figureheads and the being responsible for the Invasion of Naboo thirteen years before, Gunray is high on the Republic’s wanted list, but when he stops to loot his most treasured possessions before fleeing he leaves behind a clue that could lead to the man behind the war: the Sith Lord, Darth Sidious.
As the war rages and the extent of Sidious’ machinations becomes clear, Kenobi and Skywalker must find their way through the maze of deception. Can they uncover the Sith Lord’s true identity before becoming trapped in his web?
As the book leading into the opening scene of a movie entitled ‘Revenge of the Sith’, chances are that the answer is no. ‘Labyrinth of Evil’ is hampered by the fact that all of its surprises and intrigues are pre-empted by the existence of the film to follow. Only a reader with total ignorance of Episode III’s content will get much from ‘Labyrinth of Evil’ and it seems likely that the reader of a Star Wars novel would have anything but. As it is, this novel is a placeholder, designed to fill in the gaps for the sake of completeness.
Still, other similar works have managed to overcome these hefty disadvantages and achieve some level of merit. ‘Labyrinth of Evil’, unfortunately, lets the side down. It is a shallow, dull example of style over substance, a Hollywood action movie in literary form. It reads like a screenplay for Episode Two-And-A-Half, lacking the visual element that makes blockbusters entertaining. The gunfire and explosions never stop long enough for the reader to develop an understanding of the characters, while the constant danger in which our heroes are placed has a numbing effect. Even if the reader did manage to overcome paper-thin characterisation and come to care about Luceno’s versions of Anakin and Obi-Wan, there’s only so much one can take.
The result is a novel that fails to engage the reader on any significant level, the fictional equivalent of white noise in your speakers; you can listen to it, but in the end it doesn’t really mean anything. ‘Labyrinth of Evil’ never rises above filler material, and so I condemn it to my ‘Star Wars Completists only’ shelf.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Star Wars: Yoda – Dark Rendezvous
Sean Stewart
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-345-46309-9
As the Clone Wars ravage the galaxy, the Jedi Order is weakening. Constant battle, droid assassins and jedi-hunters have thinned their ranks, but it seems as though the greatest threat to the jedi is the nature of war itself. They are changing, adapting to new circumstances, and in doing so they are in danger of forgetting what they stand for.
Amid the chaos and concern, Master Yoda of the Jedi Order receives an unexpected message. Count Dooku, once his student but now leading the insurrection that threatens to overwhelm the Republic, wishes to meet with him. More than likely the treacherous Count plans a trap for his former master, but Yoda sees a chance that must be taken. If he can win Dooku back to the light, the war could be ended without another drop of blood being spilled. Unlike those who doubt his wisdom in trusting Dooku’s word, Yoda can remember the boy he used to be. He can remember the good. And nobody is so old they don’t deserve a second chance…
Filling in some small part of the gap between ‘Attack of the Clones’ and ‘Revenge of the Sith’, ‘Dark Rendezvous’ has a lot of difficulties to overcome. Its stars are protected from harm by later appearances, while their subsequent philosophies have also been pre-determined. Such restrictions might be expected to rob the novel of tension or indeed any real purpose, yet Sean Stewart manages not only to prevent ‘Dark Rendezvous’ from irrelevance but keeps the reader entertained throughout. While Yoda faces off against his pupil, their conflict is shadowed in the battle between Yoda’s young escort and Dooku’s protégé. It is this battle that provides the novel with action in a traditional ‘Star Wars’ vein, all flashing lightsabers and blaster-fire. Yet their struggle is not without deeper meaning for in Whie, the gifted but troubled Padawan accompanying Yoda, the author hints at a repeat of the young Dooku’s fall to the dark side just as the old Sith himself struggles with salvation.
‘Star Wars’ has seen more than its share of musings on redemption and the nature of good and evil, but ‘Dark Rendezvous’ manages to avoid most of the well-used clichés and treads fresh ground instead. While Dooku’s fate is inevitable, Stewart’s powerful characterisation grants the Sith the appearance of a tragic hero, somebody with whom the reader can identify. This previously unseen vulnerability, this humanity, makes the reader hope against all reason that Dooku will find his way back to the light and makes his loss all the more tragic when the moment passes unfulfilled. To take a superficial, two-dimensional villain and grant him depth is no minor feat, but for it to be possible to sympathise even as he performs his villainous acts speaks well of the author’s skill. All of the above means that despite the title, this is more Dooku’s story than Yoda’s. Still, the Grand Master of the Jedi Order manages to hold his own. Stewart shows just what sort of individual lies beneath the whimsical behaviour, comic appearance and mangled syntax, giving Yoda a strength and depth that – while not quite matching that afforded his opponent – goes some way towards explaining eight hundred years of survival in a dangerous galaxy.
With such well-rounded and formidable characters facing off, their psychological battle is a tense and thought-provoking one. Once the talk is over and the lightsabers come out, it is almost disappointing; the climax has passed, and any physical confrontation feels awkward and irrelevant. The same applies for their young companions, though the moment of truth is less well handled in that incidence. The arrival of Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker on the scene is a particularly crude touch, an unwelcome intrusion implying a lack of confidence in ‘Dark Rendezvous’ ability to stand up on its own without Star Wars’ central players. Another disappointment is the hurried dénouement, tying up the loose ends with a little too much ‘happy ever after.’ Still, despite these flaws ‘Dark Rendezvous’ remains an enjoyable and atmospheric novel, a quality slice of the ‘Star Wars’ universe delivered with thoughtful care. Blending ‘space opera’ with psychological drama, Sean Stewart has created an arresting character study that recommends his other works. While I go off and hunt them down, ‘Dark Rendezvous’ will find a place on the shelf marked ‘Superior Star Wars’, where it sits in very good company.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-345-46309-9
As the Clone Wars ravage the galaxy, the Jedi Order is weakening. Constant battle, droid assassins and jedi-hunters have thinned their ranks, but it seems as though the greatest threat to the jedi is the nature of war itself. They are changing, adapting to new circumstances, and in doing so they are in danger of forgetting what they stand for.
Amid the chaos and concern, Master Yoda of the Jedi Order receives an unexpected message. Count Dooku, once his student but now leading the insurrection that threatens to overwhelm the Republic, wishes to meet with him. More than likely the treacherous Count plans a trap for his former master, but Yoda sees a chance that must be taken. If he can win Dooku back to the light, the war could be ended without another drop of blood being spilled. Unlike those who doubt his wisdom in trusting Dooku’s word, Yoda can remember the boy he used to be. He can remember the good. And nobody is so old they don’t deserve a second chance…
Filling in some small part of the gap between ‘Attack of the Clones’ and ‘Revenge of the Sith’, ‘Dark Rendezvous’ has a lot of difficulties to overcome. Its stars are protected from harm by later appearances, while their subsequent philosophies have also been pre-determined. Such restrictions might be expected to rob the novel of tension or indeed any real purpose, yet Sean Stewart manages not only to prevent ‘Dark Rendezvous’ from irrelevance but keeps the reader entertained throughout. While Yoda faces off against his pupil, their conflict is shadowed in the battle between Yoda’s young escort and Dooku’s protégé. It is this battle that provides the novel with action in a traditional ‘Star Wars’ vein, all flashing lightsabers and blaster-fire. Yet their struggle is not without deeper meaning for in Whie, the gifted but troubled Padawan accompanying Yoda, the author hints at a repeat of the young Dooku’s fall to the dark side just as the old Sith himself struggles with salvation.
‘Star Wars’ has seen more than its share of musings on redemption and the nature of good and evil, but ‘Dark Rendezvous’ manages to avoid most of the well-used clichés and treads fresh ground instead. While Dooku’s fate is inevitable, Stewart’s powerful characterisation grants the Sith the appearance of a tragic hero, somebody with whom the reader can identify. This previously unseen vulnerability, this humanity, makes the reader hope against all reason that Dooku will find his way back to the light and makes his loss all the more tragic when the moment passes unfulfilled. To take a superficial, two-dimensional villain and grant him depth is no minor feat, but for it to be possible to sympathise even as he performs his villainous acts speaks well of the author’s skill. All of the above means that despite the title, this is more Dooku’s story than Yoda’s. Still, the Grand Master of the Jedi Order manages to hold his own. Stewart shows just what sort of individual lies beneath the whimsical behaviour, comic appearance and mangled syntax, giving Yoda a strength and depth that – while not quite matching that afforded his opponent – goes some way towards explaining eight hundred years of survival in a dangerous galaxy.
With such well-rounded and formidable characters facing off, their psychological battle is a tense and thought-provoking one. Once the talk is over and the lightsabers come out, it is almost disappointing; the climax has passed, and any physical confrontation feels awkward and irrelevant. The same applies for their young companions, though the moment of truth is less well handled in that incidence. The arrival of Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker on the scene is a particularly crude touch, an unwelcome intrusion implying a lack of confidence in ‘Dark Rendezvous’ ability to stand up on its own without Star Wars’ central players. Another disappointment is the hurried dénouement, tying up the loose ends with a little too much ‘happy ever after.’ Still, despite these flaws ‘Dark Rendezvous’ remains an enjoyable and atmospheric novel, a quality slice of the ‘Star Wars’ universe delivered with thoughtful care. Blending ‘space opera’ with psychological drama, Sean Stewart has created an arresting character study that recommends his other works. While I go off and hunt them down, ‘Dark Rendezvous’ will find a place on the shelf marked ‘Superior Star Wars’, where it sits in very good company.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Friday, 2 September 2005
Devices and Desires
K.J. Parker
Orbit
ISBN: 1-84149-275-2
Ziani Vaatzes is an engineer, a maker of devices for the great Republic of Mezentia. When he builds a clockwork toy for his daughter, he creates something that exceeds the sacred specifications of Mezentine engineering and for that is sentenced to death. In escaping his fate, Vaatzes begins the construction of a mechanism that will lead to the death of thousands and destruction on a scale never before seen. Those around him are but parts of the machine, and it will be oiled with their blood before he is done.
Those familiar with Parker’s earlier work will know what to expect of ‘Devices and Desires’, but a newcomer to his writing will find this novel an off-beat, intricate slice of perfection. The characters are astounding; elegantly sculpted and wonderfully human, they are as flawed and limited as any being inside or out of fiction. Their strengths and weaknesses drive the narrative, granting the world they inhabit and the tale of their lives great authenticity. For once we have a fantasy novel where the characters exist for their own sake, rather than to further the plot. All of the set pieces, from battles to exquisite boar-hunts, exist to allow the reader better understanding of characters who aren’t simply reacting to the author’s well-crafted narrative - they are creating it themselves.
Whereas Parker’s earlier books have suffered on occasion from stretches where nothing seems to happen, in ‘Devices and Desires’ he has got the balance of action and characterisation just right. Yet to separate the two is misleading, because every scene somehow manages to become both exciting and insightful. Even the quietest, most introspective moment bears enough tension to keep from becoming dull.
While the novel is never less than absorbing, the strength of its characterisation also creates its only weakness. It seems even the most minor of players must be explained, fleshed out and made sympathetic to the reader, which means the focus is taken off the central characters for a handful of pages and these detours, entertaining and perceptive though they are, can seem like an indulgence.
A second side effect of such intensive characterisation is to strip ‘Devices and Desires’ of anything even remotely resembling a villain. While at first it seems as though the Mezentine Republic might be set to play that role, through shifting perspective to see the world through their eyes Parker gives them, too, the reader’s sympathy. It is a clever trick, refusing to provide a target deserving of destruction, and it makes the inevitable chaos and death all the more tragic. If only it could have been avoided, then all of these people (none of whom are paragons, but neither are they entirely to blame) could have continued in their selfish little lives.
It is that feeling of inevitability that lies at the heart of ‘Devices and Desires.’ It is a theme that can be found throughout, from Vaatzes’ insistence that his mechanism is out of his hands to a Mezentine official’s musings on cause and effect. Nobody, it seems, is truly free to make their own choices. Led by the environment and their own natures they battle for control of themselves and the world around them but even Vaatzes, so adept at making tools of those around him, sometimes seems little more than a helpless puppet.
Through his characters Parker expertly dissects the concept of free will, creating as he does a superb work of fiction that any reader can enjoy. To get the best from ‘Devices and Desires’ will require many readings, and I can only hope that the rest of the ‘Engineer’ trilogy can reach the same high standard. In the meantime this novel sits on the shelf marked ‘work of art’, its place well deserved.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Orbit
ISBN: 1-84149-275-2
Ziani Vaatzes is an engineer, a maker of devices for the great Republic of Mezentia. When he builds a clockwork toy for his daughter, he creates something that exceeds the sacred specifications of Mezentine engineering and for that is sentenced to death. In escaping his fate, Vaatzes begins the construction of a mechanism that will lead to the death of thousands and destruction on a scale never before seen. Those around him are but parts of the machine, and it will be oiled with their blood before he is done.
Those familiar with Parker’s earlier work will know what to expect of ‘Devices and Desires’, but a newcomer to his writing will find this novel an off-beat, intricate slice of perfection. The characters are astounding; elegantly sculpted and wonderfully human, they are as flawed and limited as any being inside or out of fiction. Their strengths and weaknesses drive the narrative, granting the world they inhabit and the tale of their lives great authenticity. For once we have a fantasy novel where the characters exist for their own sake, rather than to further the plot. All of the set pieces, from battles to exquisite boar-hunts, exist to allow the reader better understanding of characters who aren’t simply reacting to the author’s well-crafted narrative - they are creating it themselves.
Whereas Parker’s earlier books have suffered on occasion from stretches where nothing seems to happen, in ‘Devices and Desires’ he has got the balance of action and characterisation just right. Yet to separate the two is misleading, because every scene somehow manages to become both exciting and insightful. Even the quietest, most introspective moment bears enough tension to keep from becoming dull.
While the novel is never less than absorbing, the strength of its characterisation also creates its only weakness. It seems even the most minor of players must be explained, fleshed out and made sympathetic to the reader, which means the focus is taken off the central characters for a handful of pages and these detours, entertaining and perceptive though they are, can seem like an indulgence.
A second side effect of such intensive characterisation is to strip ‘Devices and Desires’ of anything even remotely resembling a villain. While at first it seems as though the Mezentine Republic might be set to play that role, through shifting perspective to see the world through their eyes Parker gives them, too, the reader’s sympathy. It is a clever trick, refusing to provide a target deserving of destruction, and it makes the inevitable chaos and death all the more tragic. If only it could have been avoided, then all of these people (none of whom are paragons, but neither are they entirely to blame) could have continued in their selfish little lives.
It is that feeling of inevitability that lies at the heart of ‘Devices and Desires.’ It is a theme that can be found throughout, from Vaatzes’ insistence that his mechanism is out of his hands to a Mezentine official’s musings on cause and effect. Nobody, it seems, is truly free to make their own choices. Led by the environment and their own natures they battle for control of themselves and the world around them but even Vaatzes, so adept at making tools of those around him, sometimes seems little more than a helpless puppet.
Through his characters Parker expertly dissects the concept of free will, creating as he does a superb work of fiction that any reader can enjoy. To get the best from ‘Devices and Desires’ will require many readings, and I can only hope that the rest of the ‘Engineer’ trilogy can reach the same high standard. In the meantime this novel sits on the shelf marked ‘work of art’, its place well deserved.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Straken
Terry Brooks
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-7432-5946-7
Grianne Ohmsford, head of the Druid order, still languishes in the dark and demonic world of the Forbidding, but things could be worse. thanks to the strange creature called Weka Dart she is free of the Straken Lord’s dungeons and although she doesn’t know it, her family’s rescue attempt is coming along nicely. Pen Ohmsford has retrieved the talisman he needs to free her, though it has cost him dearly. Now all he must do is return to the Druid keep, where all their enemies lurk, and enter the Forbidding to reclaim her.
Demons and Druids stand in the way of the touching family reunion but really, what could be simpler? If that sounds rather casual, it is because the Ohmsfords have been saving the world for so long now that they barely have to put any effort into it. The first two Shannara series’ were truly epic, rich in character and wonder. By comparison 'Straken' has all the depth of a child’s paddling pool, its characters pale shadows and the tale they inhabit a lifeless corpse. It feels tired, as though the author’s love for his creation has faded to nothing and he now churns out these stories on automatic. The spark of imagination, that special something which made Shannara so popular, has gone out.
Nothing makes that clearer than the repetition that can be found in 'Straken', prison breaks and airship battles used, given a fresh coat of paint, and used again. In contrast the Four Lands, Brooks’ distinctive setting, is barely touched upon. A once marvellous place, in Straken it is cruelly under-represented. What replaces it is wholly mundane, lacking the majesty it once possessed. The demon-world inside the Forbidding, a new location unexplored in previous novels, is similarly wasted. An opportunity to create a place of despair and unforgiving savagery is squandered, the land inside the Forbidding appearing no darker or more dangerous than a stroll in the park. This is a place to which creatures of dark magic and evil intent were banished, yet in Brooks’ hands it seems dull and unthreatening.
Straken is not a bad novel - it is simply bland and uninspiring. The fantasy genre is saturated with poor imitations of Brooks’ work, and this book somehow feels like one of them. There is nothing that stands out, either for damnation or praise, yet the author’s reputation ensures it will sell. A shame, when so many fresh and original works will be overlooked. Brooks has shown he is a writer of talent and imagination, yet both seem to have deserted him here. The reader turns the last page with ambivalence, caring little for shallow characters and the limited growth granted them by an unadventurous narrative. Perhaps it is time Shannara was allowed to rest?
Whether it will or not is another question. The end of the novel feels rushed, incomplete, and several plot threads are left frustratingly untied. Perhaps Brooks is planning to make ‘High Druid of Shannara’ a four book series? If not, certain subplots within ‘Straken’ are rendered mysteriously pointless. A shame, because their intricacies were more engaging than the main story itself, little gems amid the dross. A dragon; the fate of Weka Dart; even the Straken Lord himself, built up in the preceding novel and unforgivably sidelined here. All saved for another time? I hope so, just as I hope to see Brooks regain his old form. It wouldn’t do for another book to join ‘Straken’ on my ‘Big disappointment’ shelf, would it?
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-7432-5946-7
Grianne Ohmsford, head of the Druid order, still languishes in the dark and demonic world of the Forbidding, but things could be worse. thanks to the strange creature called Weka Dart she is free of the Straken Lord’s dungeons and although she doesn’t know it, her family’s rescue attempt is coming along nicely. Pen Ohmsford has retrieved the talisman he needs to free her, though it has cost him dearly. Now all he must do is return to the Druid keep, where all their enemies lurk, and enter the Forbidding to reclaim her.
Demons and Druids stand in the way of the touching family reunion but really, what could be simpler? If that sounds rather casual, it is because the Ohmsfords have been saving the world for so long now that they barely have to put any effort into it. The first two Shannara series’ were truly epic, rich in character and wonder. By comparison 'Straken' has all the depth of a child’s paddling pool, its characters pale shadows and the tale they inhabit a lifeless corpse. It feels tired, as though the author’s love for his creation has faded to nothing and he now churns out these stories on automatic. The spark of imagination, that special something which made Shannara so popular, has gone out.
Nothing makes that clearer than the repetition that can be found in 'Straken', prison breaks and airship battles used, given a fresh coat of paint, and used again. In contrast the Four Lands, Brooks’ distinctive setting, is barely touched upon. A once marvellous place, in Straken it is cruelly under-represented. What replaces it is wholly mundane, lacking the majesty it once possessed. The demon-world inside the Forbidding, a new location unexplored in previous novels, is similarly wasted. An opportunity to create a place of despair and unforgiving savagery is squandered, the land inside the Forbidding appearing no darker or more dangerous than a stroll in the park. This is a place to which creatures of dark magic and evil intent were banished, yet in Brooks’ hands it seems dull and unthreatening.
Straken is not a bad novel - it is simply bland and uninspiring. The fantasy genre is saturated with poor imitations of Brooks’ work, and this book somehow feels like one of them. There is nothing that stands out, either for damnation or praise, yet the author’s reputation ensures it will sell. A shame, when so many fresh and original works will be overlooked. Brooks has shown he is a writer of talent and imagination, yet both seem to have deserted him here. The reader turns the last page with ambivalence, caring little for shallow characters and the limited growth granted them by an unadventurous narrative. Perhaps it is time Shannara was allowed to rest?
Whether it will or not is another question. The end of the novel feels rushed, incomplete, and several plot threads are left frustratingly untied. Perhaps Brooks is planning to make ‘High Druid of Shannara’ a four book series? If not, certain subplots within ‘Straken’ are rendered mysteriously pointless. A shame, because their intricacies were more engaging than the main story itself, little gems amid the dross. A dragon; the fate of Weka Dart; even the Straken Lord himself, built up in the preceding novel and unforgivably sidelined here. All saved for another time? I hope so, just as I hope to see Brooks regain his old form. It wouldn’t do for another book to join ‘Straken’ on my ‘Big disappointment’ shelf, would it?
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Tuesday, 2 August 2005
Crash Deluxe
Marianne de Pierres
Orbit Books
ISBN: 1-84149-258-2
The Tert, slum-town on the edge of the shining city of Viva, is once again at peace – or as close as it ever manages to get, anyway. Following her discovery and destruction of twisted genetic experiments in MoVay, Parrish Plessis is one step closer to the truth. Someone in the big city has been playing games, manipulating the lives of the Tert’s citizens for their own ends. Too many people have died as a result, people Parrish cared about, and even worse – this meddling has released the Eskaalim parasite, long dormant in humanity’s genes, and its terrible effects are already being felt.
Whoever is playing god, they need to be stopped. The people of the Tert deserve better than to be some rich kid’s playthings, and Parrish needs to start thinking about how to defeat the parasite that is slowly turning her into something dark and monstrous. Time is running out, and she needs to find the one responsible. Infiltrating Viva is the only way. Time to find out what civilisation is like. Parrish doesn’t know what to expect from the big city, but then it doesn’t know what to expect from her. It could be an interesting day…
Unlike the previous novels, Crash Deluxe begins with a flash forward to its own climax, an intriguing little narrative device which whets the reader’s appetite and curiosity. Just as well really, for that burst of action is followed by an opening sequence that fails to generate much interest. Parrish wanders around the Tert at something of a loss, knowing what she has to do but for some reason finding a dozen reasons to put it off.
This build-up may be slow, but it does introduce certain facets of De Pierres’ world that have been absent before. Of these the most important is the appearance of virtual reality, a cyberpunk staple that seems strangely out of place in the rough, unsophisticated Tert. Once the action moves to high-tech Viva City things make more sense, but it seems surprising to find the technology suddenly centre-stage. While there is nothing to De Pierres’ VR that hasn’t been seen before, the breathless vibrancy of her writing at least gives it a fresh coat of paint.
Parrish’s insertion into Viva is superbly handled, skilful foreshadowing giving her all the tools she needs without making the situation appear contrived. It is a pleasure, too, to see the Tert’s tough girl so out of her depth, her reactions to an unfamiliar environment comical and tragic. Just when it seems she has fallen on her feet Parrish finds herself in a deeper mess then ever before. Much is made of the differences between Viva’s sophisticated menace and the Tert’s brutal simplicity, giving the novel a feeling oddly reminiscent of Victorian class divides, or perhaps the an extension of the widening gulf between today’s suburbs and inner city areas. Certainly the straightforward Parrish is spectacularly unsuited to deal with Viva’s serpentine intrigues, yet somehow she muddles through.
New characters appear and old ones resurface, yet the author handles them all equally and with deft proficiency. For the most part clichés are conspicuous in their absence, and tough choices are made that grant the novel a gritty darkness it may have lacked before, though thankfully this new-found gloom manages to avoid obscuring Crash Deluxe’s gems of characterisation. The disclosure of the identity of Parrish’s mysterious benefactor is a magnificent sleight-of-hand, pulling a rabbit from the first novel’s hat that seemed little more than background detail. As well as that, the evolution of Parrish’s personality is a subtle marvel, the sacrifices forced upon her making her desperate to hang on to those she cares about yet afraid to hold them too close. While certain details of the main narrative seem unlikely or faintly ridiculous, things move fast enough that such minor holes are often overlooked, gone past in a blur before the reader notices them. But at the heart of Crash Deluxe lies a solid, powerful story, all about choice, and it plays out very well indeed.
Crash Deluxe marks the end of the first trilogy following Parrish Plessis and as such the tying of loose ends is to be expected. It is a pleasant surprise to find this is not overwhelmingly true. While certain mysteries are unravelled and plot arcs completed, there is enough fresh material here to drive at least another book. The novel ends on a massive cliffhanger, a well-executed piece of work which leaves the reader truly unsure of what to expect. While this unfinished ending might frustrate some, it should be enough to keep most readers eager to pick up the story when next Parrish returns. As such, Crash Deluxe will find a place with its fellows on my ‘first-rate cyberpunk’ shelf; I can only hope Marianne De Pierres won’t keep me waiting too long for the next volume.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Orbit Books
ISBN: 1-84149-258-2
The Tert, slum-town on the edge of the shining city of Viva, is once again at peace – or as close as it ever manages to get, anyway. Following her discovery and destruction of twisted genetic experiments in MoVay, Parrish Plessis is one step closer to the truth. Someone in the big city has been playing games, manipulating the lives of the Tert’s citizens for their own ends. Too many people have died as a result, people Parrish cared about, and even worse – this meddling has released the Eskaalim parasite, long dormant in humanity’s genes, and its terrible effects are already being felt.
Whoever is playing god, they need to be stopped. The people of the Tert deserve better than to be some rich kid’s playthings, and Parrish needs to start thinking about how to defeat the parasite that is slowly turning her into something dark and monstrous. Time is running out, and she needs to find the one responsible. Infiltrating Viva is the only way. Time to find out what civilisation is like. Parrish doesn’t know what to expect from the big city, but then it doesn’t know what to expect from her. It could be an interesting day…
Unlike the previous novels, Crash Deluxe begins with a flash forward to its own climax, an intriguing little narrative device which whets the reader’s appetite and curiosity. Just as well really, for that burst of action is followed by an opening sequence that fails to generate much interest. Parrish wanders around the Tert at something of a loss, knowing what she has to do but for some reason finding a dozen reasons to put it off.
This build-up may be slow, but it does introduce certain facets of De Pierres’ world that have been absent before. Of these the most important is the appearance of virtual reality, a cyberpunk staple that seems strangely out of place in the rough, unsophisticated Tert. Once the action moves to high-tech Viva City things make more sense, but it seems surprising to find the technology suddenly centre-stage. While there is nothing to De Pierres’ VR that hasn’t been seen before, the breathless vibrancy of her writing at least gives it a fresh coat of paint.
Parrish’s insertion into Viva is superbly handled, skilful foreshadowing giving her all the tools she needs without making the situation appear contrived. It is a pleasure, too, to see the Tert’s tough girl so out of her depth, her reactions to an unfamiliar environment comical and tragic. Just when it seems she has fallen on her feet Parrish finds herself in a deeper mess then ever before. Much is made of the differences between Viva’s sophisticated menace and the Tert’s brutal simplicity, giving the novel a feeling oddly reminiscent of Victorian class divides, or perhaps the an extension of the widening gulf between today’s suburbs and inner city areas. Certainly the straightforward Parrish is spectacularly unsuited to deal with Viva’s serpentine intrigues, yet somehow she muddles through.
New characters appear and old ones resurface, yet the author handles them all equally and with deft proficiency. For the most part clichés are conspicuous in their absence, and tough choices are made that grant the novel a gritty darkness it may have lacked before, though thankfully this new-found gloom manages to avoid obscuring Crash Deluxe’s gems of characterisation. The disclosure of the identity of Parrish’s mysterious benefactor is a magnificent sleight-of-hand, pulling a rabbit from the first novel’s hat that seemed little more than background detail. As well as that, the evolution of Parrish’s personality is a subtle marvel, the sacrifices forced upon her making her desperate to hang on to those she cares about yet afraid to hold them too close. While certain details of the main narrative seem unlikely or faintly ridiculous, things move fast enough that such minor holes are often overlooked, gone past in a blur before the reader notices them. But at the heart of Crash Deluxe lies a solid, powerful story, all about choice, and it plays out very well indeed.
Crash Deluxe marks the end of the first trilogy following Parrish Plessis and as such the tying of loose ends is to be expected. It is a pleasant surprise to find this is not overwhelmingly true. While certain mysteries are unravelled and plot arcs completed, there is enough fresh material here to drive at least another book. The novel ends on a massive cliffhanger, a well-executed piece of work which leaves the reader truly unsure of what to expect. While this unfinished ending might frustrate some, it should be enough to keep most readers eager to pick up the story when next Parrish returns. As such, Crash Deluxe will find a place with its fellows on my ‘first-rate cyberpunk’ shelf; I can only hope Marianne De Pierres won’t keep me waiting too long for the next volume.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Friday, 1 July 2005
Shadow Warrior
Chris Bunch
Orbit Books
ISBN: 1-84149-332-5
In the years following the Al’ar war Joshua Wolfe has done pretty well for himself. His friends in the Federation military have proved a useful network for a bounty hunter to have and work is steady. Life is as good as it’s been for a long time, better than it was in the Al’ar prison camps, yet things spiral swiftly out of control when a contract to bring back a thief and his swag reveals something suspicious. Someone is collecting Lumini, the strange gemstones used by the Al’ar to focus their mental abilities, and they’re none too fussy about how they get hold of them.
Joshua’s life becomes even more complicated when Federation Intelligence call him in on a contract of their own. Out near the Al’ar homeworlds, long abandoned since that strange race mysteriously vanished in the face of their utter defeat, something is moving. Perhaps the Al’ar are not as gone as they seemed? Or perhaps some faction within the government itself seeks to turn the aliens’ powers to their own use? Joshua Wolfe doesn’t know, but people are trying to kill him. That’s one good reason to find out. Along the way, maybe he can come to better understand his own close relationship with the Al’ar – the respect that led them to name him, unique among humans, as one of their own. To name him as the Shadow Warrior.
This compilation consists of the three books in the ‘Shadow Warrior’ trilogy and a short story based on the earlier wartime exploits of the hero, Joshua Wolfe. It’s just as well the trilogy came packaged together, because they tell one seamless story and would be impossible to read as separate and individual novels. The tale itself is a dark one, steeped in casual violence and pointless tragedy, yet possessed of a certain grim humour. The pace is unrelentingly fast and, despite the occasional side-tracking as Wolfe abandons the plot in order to pay off his commitments, absorbing enough that the pages keep turning. Chris Bunch has a great talent for describing action scenes, Wolfe’s sudden and inevitably bloody acts of violence painted with flair and clarity.
The only problem with such a plethora of combat is that the reader never feels Wolfe is in any particular danger. Throughout the series he comes across as indestructible and instantly deadly, capable of taking down whole legions of unnamed goons without breaking into a sweat. Even those characters presented as serious opponents simply can’t compete with the aura of utter lethality Wolfe exudes, and one can’t help but feel the author has fallen into the trap of enjoying his protagonist’s all-conquering might a little too much. Yet when the plot requires that Wolfe fail he fails, and Bunch has made the job of presenting his failure realistically a difficult one. How is Wolfe captured in this situation, when an earlier and equivalent state of affairs proved such little challenge? Such inevitable victories leech much of the drama from ‘Shadow Warrior’s otherwise excellent battles. Only the presence of secondary characters fighting at Wolfe’s side provides any tension.
These characters, however, are few and far between. The fearless Joshua Wolfe works alone, probably because he doesn’t need the backup, and while he does pick up the occasional stray they generally don’t stick around long enough for the reader to get attached to them. The exceptions to the rule are excellently created slices of character, although they do have a certain ‘Bond girl’ feel to them. Indeed, Wolfe himself does bear an uncanny resemblance to Fleming’s superspy, from the serial womanising and gambling addiction to the always-requested tipple of choice. The casual violence and over-educated posturing are just the icing on the cake and they would make much of ‘Shadow Warrior’ a joy to read, were it not for one small thing.
In the first book in the trilogy, ‘The Wind after Time’, Wolfe is very different. He’s still the brutal killing machine we’ve learned to love, but a lot of the Bond-esque personality traits are yet to develop. Instead the reader sees a rather bland stereotype with some anger-management problems – never a good first impression, and ‘The Wind…’ suffers for it. Only after the cliffhanger ending does Wolfe loosen up – so much so, in fact, that he seems a totally different person. Perhaps there was a long break between the writing of the first book and the second, but despite making the protagonist more interesting this sort of inconsistency dents any possible suspension of disbelief. The plot is simple and sensible while still holding enough surprises to keep the reader hooked, yet the jarring transition between first book and second makes it difficult to become as fully immersed in the storyline as the novel deserves.
Despite this flaw, the narrative progresses smoothly towards the inevitable climax. By the time it comes around, though, there are still too many loose ends left trailing and the last hundred words feel far too rushed as the author hurries to tie them all off. The big finale is suitably dramatic and exciting, making the reader feel that the preceding chapters were worth reading just for this – effective build-up at work. Then comes the epilogue, and all of that good work is undone. In just a couple of pages Chris Bunch manages to literally wreck his novel and his character, providing no explanation or even rationalisation of an event which simply makes no sense.
Even the well-written and entertaining short story that follows, providing much insight into Wolfe’s background, is tainted by the foreknowledge of this pointless end to the saga. Perhaps in the author’s mind there were good reasons for things turning out the way they did, but in his apparent hurry to finish he neglected to put them down on paper. It is a real shame that an engaging, above average novel should be pulled down after a good run, and so with sadness I grant ‘Shadow Warrior’ a spot on the shelf marked ‘Fallen at the last hurdle’.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Orbit Books
ISBN: 1-84149-332-5
In the years following the Al’ar war Joshua Wolfe has done pretty well for himself. His friends in the Federation military have proved a useful network for a bounty hunter to have and work is steady. Life is as good as it’s been for a long time, better than it was in the Al’ar prison camps, yet things spiral swiftly out of control when a contract to bring back a thief and his swag reveals something suspicious. Someone is collecting Lumini, the strange gemstones used by the Al’ar to focus their mental abilities, and they’re none too fussy about how they get hold of them.
Joshua’s life becomes even more complicated when Federation Intelligence call him in on a contract of their own. Out near the Al’ar homeworlds, long abandoned since that strange race mysteriously vanished in the face of their utter defeat, something is moving. Perhaps the Al’ar are not as gone as they seemed? Or perhaps some faction within the government itself seeks to turn the aliens’ powers to their own use? Joshua Wolfe doesn’t know, but people are trying to kill him. That’s one good reason to find out. Along the way, maybe he can come to better understand his own close relationship with the Al’ar – the respect that led them to name him, unique among humans, as one of their own. To name him as the Shadow Warrior.
This compilation consists of the three books in the ‘Shadow Warrior’ trilogy and a short story based on the earlier wartime exploits of the hero, Joshua Wolfe. It’s just as well the trilogy came packaged together, because they tell one seamless story and would be impossible to read as separate and individual novels. The tale itself is a dark one, steeped in casual violence and pointless tragedy, yet possessed of a certain grim humour. The pace is unrelentingly fast and, despite the occasional side-tracking as Wolfe abandons the plot in order to pay off his commitments, absorbing enough that the pages keep turning. Chris Bunch has a great talent for describing action scenes, Wolfe’s sudden and inevitably bloody acts of violence painted with flair and clarity.
The only problem with such a plethora of combat is that the reader never feels Wolfe is in any particular danger. Throughout the series he comes across as indestructible and instantly deadly, capable of taking down whole legions of unnamed goons without breaking into a sweat. Even those characters presented as serious opponents simply can’t compete with the aura of utter lethality Wolfe exudes, and one can’t help but feel the author has fallen into the trap of enjoying his protagonist’s all-conquering might a little too much. Yet when the plot requires that Wolfe fail he fails, and Bunch has made the job of presenting his failure realistically a difficult one. How is Wolfe captured in this situation, when an earlier and equivalent state of affairs proved such little challenge? Such inevitable victories leech much of the drama from ‘Shadow Warrior’s otherwise excellent battles. Only the presence of secondary characters fighting at Wolfe’s side provides any tension.
These characters, however, are few and far between. The fearless Joshua Wolfe works alone, probably because he doesn’t need the backup, and while he does pick up the occasional stray they generally don’t stick around long enough for the reader to get attached to them. The exceptions to the rule are excellently created slices of character, although they do have a certain ‘Bond girl’ feel to them. Indeed, Wolfe himself does bear an uncanny resemblance to Fleming’s superspy, from the serial womanising and gambling addiction to the always-requested tipple of choice. The casual violence and over-educated posturing are just the icing on the cake and they would make much of ‘Shadow Warrior’ a joy to read, were it not for one small thing.
In the first book in the trilogy, ‘The Wind after Time’, Wolfe is very different. He’s still the brutal killing machine we’ve learned to love, but a lot of the Bond-esque personality traits are yet to develop. Instead the reader sees a rather bland stereotype with some anger-management problems – never a good first impression, and ‘The Wind…’ suffers for it. Only after the cliffhanger ending does Wolfe loosen up – so much so, in fact, that he seems a totally different person. Perhaps there was a long break between the writing of the first book and the second, but despite making the protagonist more interesting this sort of inconsistency dents any possible suspension of disbelief. The plot is simple and sensible while still holding enough surprises to keep the reader hooked, yet the jarring transition between first book and second makes it difficult to become as fully immersed in the storyline as the novel deserves.
Despite this flaw, the narrative progresses smoothly towards the inevitable climax. By the time it comes around, though, there are still too many loose ends left trailing and the last hundred words feel far too rushed as the author hurries to tie them all off. The big finale is suitably dramatic and exciting, making the reader feel that the preceding chapters were worth reading just for this – effective build-up at work. Then comes the epilogue, and all of that good work is undone. In just a couple of pages Chris Bunch manages to literally wreck his novel and his character, providing no explanation or even rationalisation of an event which simply makes no sense.
Even the well-written and entertaining short story that follows, providing much insight into Wolfe’s background, is tainted by the foreknowledge of this pointless end to the saga. Perhaps in the author’s mind there were good reasons for things turning out the way they did, but in his apparent hurry to finish he neglected to put them down on paper. It is a real shame that an engaging, above average novel should be pulled down after a good run, and so with sadness I grant ‘Shadow Warrior’ a spot on the shelf marked ‘Fallen at the last hurdle’.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
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