Greg Vilk
Ricochet Press (self-published)
ISBN: 0-9772189-0-2
It’s 1942, and the Second World War is raging across Europe. Far removed from the conflict, in the icy wastes of Greenland, a crack team of U.S. Rangers is sent to destroy a secret Nazi research facility and rescue the American scientist forced to work there.
Saddled with the scientist’s daughter and a bureaucrat from the War Department, the Rangers set off on their assignment. But the base is not all it seems, and the Germans’ meddling has unleashed something dark and hateful. As the Americans scrabble to survive, their mission is suddenly the least of their worries.
Greg Vilk’s ‘about the author’ gives his day job as visual effects director on a number of blockbusting Hollywood films, and ‘Golem’ is written in that same cinematic tradition. Description and characterisation are so sparse that the novel could pass for a film script, with only the dialogue possessing any sign of effort on the author’s part. Even that is barely passable; when they’re not spouting action-movie clichés, characters both heroic and otherwise announce their plans and motivations to all and sundry.
Characterisation is paper-thin, with most of the Rangers apparently lifted straight from the Dirty Dozen or Kelly’s Heroes. Carrying a picture of one’s daughter and kissing it from time to time does not a realistic character make… though it does mark the poor sod for ‘tragic’ and ‘heroic’ death. The traitor – and isn’t there always a traitor? – is sprung without any foreshadowing, and his actions never explained beyond the novel’s desperate need for a diabolical villain. As if a big faceless monster stomping around the place wasn’t enough.
Ah, the monster. Pulp horror excels when it builds an atmosphere of suspense, and keeping your nasty in the shadows is a simple and effective way to build that tension. Strange, then, that on its first appearance Vilk’s Golem does the literary equivalent of tap-dancing in front of the camera. It kills, and we know how and what it is. Fear of the unknown, the greatest terror of all, never even gets a chance.
That doesn’t stop Vilk constantly trying to up the ante, however. Each time the golem kills, it grows a little more powerful… and a couple of feet bigger. By the time the dramatic climax arrives, you could practically see the thing on an atlas, but it’s still no more frightening. Size is not the same thing as scary. The golem is a wasted opportunity – just think of the possibilities for creepy and genuinely disturbing horror. A thing that builds its body from the inanimate matter about it could be terrifying, insidious and utterly alien. Instead the critter just stomps around hitting people with spades and ice, and getting bigger.
You’d think a man who works in cinema would have seen The Thing, or Alien, and taken a few valuable lessons away. But there’s nothing new here, and everything unrolls just how you expect it might. The pace is fast and the action never lets up, but that only means there’s no time for readers to develop any connection to the cardboard cut-out characters. When they die, it’s almost a relief. At least now their eyes can ‘bug out’ no more; they’re saved from enduring Greg Vilk’s endlessly repeated expression of surprise. And to save myself ever from having to read this again, I’m going to bury Golem in the depths of the shelf marked ‘abominable screenplay in disguise’.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Wednesday, 1 March 2006
Wednesday, 1 February 2006
Star Wars: Survivor’s Quest
Timothy Zahn
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-099-47263-5
Fifty-odd years ago the Outbound Flight Project departed, a Jedi-led exploration of the uncharted areas on the edge of the galaxy. They didn’t get very far. Ambushed by a fleet of the alien Chiss, led by soon-to-be Grand Admiral Thrawn, the project was destroyed and little was ever heard of it again.
How things can change. After half a century the wreckage of Outbound Flight has been found, and the Chiss are willing to allow the New Republic to recover their dead. Luke Skywalker and his wife, Mara Jade, are despatched to represent the Republic, but to their surprise things are not quite what they seem. Other parties have become involved, from alien species wishing to pay their respects to stormtrooper envoys from the remnants of the Empire. Are their motives as peaceful as they say? Can anyone be trusted?
Arriving at the ruins of Outbound Flight, the Jedi are in for another surprise. With uncertain allies all about them, cut off from the Republic and their friends, they must discover the truth of Outbound Flight and escape the twisted plans of enemies new and old.
Timothy Zahn has a reputation as one of the best authors in the Star Wars universe, but ‘Survivor’s Quest’ is the first faltering step he’s made. Outbound Flight, Mara Jade, Grand Admiral Thrawn, the Chiss; the typical ingredients of his better works are all present, yet something is missing. Star Wars is about the choices between light and dark, the seductive power of evil and the difficulty of walking the path of good, but that central theme is absent here.
Of course Star Wars is also about explosions, lightsaber battles, blaster guns and diabolical villains, and here at least ‘Survivor’s Quest’ doesn’t disappoint. It seems almost as though Zahn has tried to make up for the lack of depth with an overdose of action, but this all gives the novel a rather schizophrenic feel. The first half of the book is a pulp detective story, with the Jedi sneaking around and trying to figure out just what’s going on. Then, once all is revealed, the lightsabers kick in and the reader may as well leave their brain elsewhere.
Not that I have a problem with mindless action – it’s mindless, tension-free action that upsets me. ‘Survivor’s Quest’ is part of the franchise, so one can always be fairly sure the heroes are immune to serious harm, but here you never really feel as though they’re working up a sweat. The enemy underestimate them at every turn, and though the epilogue explains the villains’ short-sightedness, seeing the heroes wade through wave after wave of doomed mooks does not make exciting reading. In such a case, it’s the secondary characters that stand in jeopardy but here, for once, Zahn’s characterisation has let him down. With a single exception, none of these minor characters have enough personality to make the reader care. Giving names to stormtroopers does not make the reader sympathetic to their plight, particularly when their intentions remain dubious.
While the first act of the book dedicates much of its length to setting up such ambiguity, and allows a little depth to show in some of the characters, it nonetheless manages to avoid any foreshadowing of the inevitable twist. Surprises are good, yes, but only if the reader can look back and say ‘but of course!’. In this case, the surprise comes from out of the blue and falls flat on its face. That there was no way to predict or even suspect what might happen is as poor a piece of storytelling as any Deus Ex Machina.
Speaking of which… The epilogue of ‘Survivor’s Quest’ comes as a serious disappointment. To find out that the Jedi were little more than pawns in a ‘master plan’ renders their choices irrelevant, and the story itself somewhat pointless. It turns the entire novel into some bizarre version of a shell game, but one where there’s a ball under each of the three cups. While it makes an impressive show of the puppet-masters’ machiavellian manipulations, it fails to make an enjoyable read.
Despite Zahn’s undeniable descriptive skills, ‘Survivor’s Quest’ is hampered by nonsensical plotting, an awkward mid-story gear change, and a sad lack of the themes that make Star Wars great. There simply isn’t enough challenge here, for either the heroes or the reader. The novel also can’t seem to decide whether to focus on action or suspense, ends up doing a poor job of both, and earns itself a spot on my ‘genre-confused’ shelf.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-099-47263-5
Fifty-odd years ago the Outbound Flight Project departed, a Jedi-led exploration of the uncharted areas on the edge of the galaxy. They didn’t get very far. Ambushed by a fleet of the alien Chiss, led by soon-to-be Grand Admiral Thrawn, the project was destroyed and little was ever heard of it again.
How things can change. After half a century the wreckage of Outbound Flight has been found, and the Chiss are willing to allow the New Republic to recover their dead. Luke Skywalker and his wife, Mara Jade, are despatched to represent the Republic, but to their surprise things are not quite what they seem. Other parties have become involved, from alien species wishing to pay their respects to stormtrooper envoys from the remnants of the Empire. Are their motives as peaceful as they say? Can anyone be trusted?
Arriving at the ruins of Outbound Flight, the Jedi are in for another surprise. With uncertain allies all about them, cut off from the Republic and their friends, they must discover the truth of Outbound Flight and escape the twisted plans of enemies new and old.
Timothy Zahn has a reputation as one of the best authors in the Star Wars universe, but ‘Survivor’s Quest’ is the first faltering step he’s made. Outbound Flight, Mara Jade, Grand Admiral Thrawn, the Chiss; the typical ingredients of his better works are all present, yet something is missing. Star Wars is about the choices between light and dark, the seductive power of evil and the difficulty of walking the path of good, but that central theme is absent here.
Of course Star Wars is also about explosions, lightsaber battles, blaster guns and diabolical villains, and here at least ‘Survivor’s Quest’ doesn’t disappoint. It seems almost as though Zahn has tried to make up for the lack of depth with an overdose of action, but this all gives the novel a rather schizophrenic feel. The first half of the book is a pulp detective story, with the Jedi sneaking around and trying to figure out just what’s going on. Then, once all is revealed, the lightsabers kick in and the reader may as well leave their brain elsewhere.
Not that I have a problem with mindless action – it’s mindless, tension-free action that upsets me. ‘Survivor’s Quest’ is part of the franchise, so one can always be fairly sure the heroes are immune to serious harm, but here you never really feel as though they’re working up a sweat. The enemy underestimate them at every turn, and though the epilogue explains the villains’ short-sightedness, seeing the heroes wade through wave after wave of doomed mooks does not make exciting reading. In such a case, it’s the secondary characters that stand in jeopardy but here, for once, Zahn’s characterisation has let him down. With a single exception, none of these minor characters have enough personality to make the reader care. Giving names to stormtroopers does not make the reader sympathetic to their plight, particularly when their intentions remain dubious.
While the first act of the book dedicates much of its length to setting up such ambiguity, and allows a little depth to show in some of the characters, it nonetheless manages to avoid any foreshadowing of the inevitable twist. Surprises are good, yes, but only if the reader can look back and say ‘but of course!’. In this case, the surprise comes from out of the blue and falls flat on its face. That there was no way to predict or even suspect what might happen is as poor a piece of storytelling as any Deus Ex Machina.
Speaking of which… The epilogue of ‘Survivor’s Quest’ comes as a serious disappointment. To find out that the Jedi were little more than pawns in a ‘master plan’ renders their choices irrelevant, and the story itself somewhat pointless. It turns the entire novel into some bizarre version of a shell game, but one where there’s a ball under each of the three cups. While it makes an impressive show of the puppet-masters’ machiavellian manipulations, it fails to make an enjoyable read.
Despite Zahn’s undeniable descriptive skills, ‘Survivor’s Quest’ is hampered by nonsensical plotting, an awkward mid-story gear change, and a sad lack of the themes that make Star Wars great. There simply isn’t enough challenge here, for either the heroes or the reader. The novel also can’t seem to decide whether to focus on action or suspense, ends up doing a poor job of both, and earns itself a spot on my ‘genre-confused’ shelf.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Tuesday, 1 November 2005
Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
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
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
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
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