Book Reviews

I recently had the good fortune to review a couple of brilliant books for Starburst Magazine.

The first was The Forbidden Library by Django Wexler, a YA portal fantasy that really struck a chord with me. Click on the link below to see what I thought:

http://www.starburstmagazine.com/reviews/book-reviews-latest-literary-releases/8256-book-review-the-forbidden-library

The second was The Three by Sarah Lotz, which I devoured in a couple of days. The concept of it intrigued the 1990's Dean Koontz fan in me, but the book is utterly unique, thought-provoking and chilling. Again, the link is below:

http://www.starburstmagazine.com/reviews/book-reviews-latest-literary-releases/8257-book-review-the-three

It's difficult to condense thoughts and feelings into a few hundred words, suffice to say both books hooked me for different reasons. I haven't linked to reviews before, but I still feel the urge to SHOUT about these two.

Consider yourself shouted at, dear reader.

N is for Noon

Twenty years ago, a book came onto the sci-fi scene, a novel by a new writer called Jeff Noon. That book was Vurt, a hallucinogenic trip into a surreal near future in the North of England. The location alone was enough to catch my eye, and Vurt looked like the kind of bizarre sci-fi I like, so I took a chance and bought it. Vurt's a brilliant book - great story, great characters - one of my few re-reads over the years, but most of all it's superbly written. It may not be to everyone's taste, as it can be disturbing in places, but I'd recommend it to everyone who likes a daring, intelligent read.

All, of course, thanks to Mr Noon. His writing grabs us from the first line, plunging us deep into his creation. Not only does his prose make us see, it makes us taste and smell too, a treat for all the reader's senses and we're submerged into a rich and vibrant world. We're allowed to come up for air, but only when we need it; the world isn't revealed to us in page-length infodumps, but slowly through the eyes of the narrator, making the reader think and wonder, continue through the pages in the quest to know more.

Vurt's an astonishing debut, the perfect introduction to Noon's talent and imagination. His love of langauge is obvious - he plays with it constantly, massaging rather than manipulating - and this continues throught his other works. His tribute to Lewis Carroll, Automated Alice, is sublime, while Cobralingus may be too experimental for some but remains a deft treatise on the formation of both prose and poetry. He's a notable presence on Twitter, too - a format that feels designed especially for his talents in mind - using his tweets to tell tales. I once replied to a tweet of his, to get a quick response in turn that had me in awe.

Vurt's been re-released this year as a 20th Anniversary Edition. Noon's a novelist that deserves to be recognised alongside the likes of Philip K Dick and William Gibson, so let's hope it gets a whole new generation interested in his work. I've always felt he hasn't been given the recognition he deserves, that his debut is a forgotten classic of the genre. Noon's never been away, but it's good to have him back.

L Is for Legend

Legend, by David Gemmell is one of my all-time favourite books, one of a select few that I've re-read over the years, yet I can tell you exactly where I was when I read it for the first time (on loan from the library, I took it with me on a sixth-form trip to Guisborough, along with a copy of Mad magazine that spoofed Aliens). Paradoxically, it's far from being the best book I've ever read; the writing can be clumsy in places (allowable for a first -time author, I'd say) and his characterisation of women is suspect, but at its heart Legend is a tale about defeating the odds, how bravery and courage can triumph in the face of adversity.

Like most of Gemmell's books, his heroes are reluctant and sometimes afraid, often unwilling to do what is right simply because it is less daunting to do nothing. Courage isn't about being fearless, it's about overcoming that fear, doing what you have to despite being scared. This is a theme that echoes through most of Gemmell's works, one that struck a chord with my younger self. There's a history behind the writing of it, that Gemmell first put pen to paper when he was being tested for cancer, the ending undecided until his results came through. If positive, the city under seige would fall. If not...

Legend isn't a thick, weighty tome - it can be read in a day, if you have the spare time - but its few words speak much about the nature of humanity. Gemmell would go on to write better and bigger stories (his Troy trilogy is superb), but Legend is the book where is all began. As I say, it's not perfect, but it will stay in my mind always. David Gemmell died in 2006, but remains with us through the stories he shared, still providing inspiration for years after his passing.

Why, It's Been A While...

What follows is the start of a blog I was going to post in June, entitled Prequels, Sequels and Threequels.

Ok, the last word is made up, but I have seen it in print, in a magazine before. That counts, right? Don’t worry, I will never use the word ‘chillax’ - apart from just there, of course, but at least Word has the decency to underline it in red to let me know its bollocks. Bollocks, incidentally, isn’t.

There’s been much chatter about Prometheus, the might be/might not be prequel to Alien. Well, now it’s on release, the consensus seems to be that it is a sort-of prequel, just not a very good one. It isn’t the negative reviews that have put me off going to see the film (although they have contributed), rather the apparent need to ‘explain where the Space Jockey came from’. That and the fact the technology looks more advanced than it was in Alien, despite being set some years before; everything looks shiny and perfect, rather than being the dirty technology of the first film. All that from a trailer, I know, but isn’t that what they’re for? I suppose what I’m wondering is do we really need to know where the Space Jockey is from? Isn’t that element of mystery one of the talking points that has kept Alien in our minds over the years?

All this reminds me of when the three Star Wars prequels were announced. Finally, we would see the origins of Darth Vader. We knew them, having read everything about Star Wars, but we would now bear witness on the big screen. Awesome. Except it wasn’t, not really. That fight between Anakin and Obi Wan? I read about that when I was eight-years-old, and it was better in my childish imagination that it was on film. My abiding image of those prequels remains Owen Lars looking to the stars, just as Luke did in 1977, only for Obi Wan to turn up with a baby Skywalker and shatter his dreams. No wonder the two didn’t get on.

Other prequels out lately are in the comics world. Before Watchmen tells the tale of the Watchmen characters before they teamed up. Again, they’re something I’ve not seen, so I can’t comment on their quality. Many have, though, and this is before anything was published in print. I don’t see them as an ‘outrage’, it’s just I’m struggling to see the point. Watchmen is self-contained. We know all we need to about the characters, so why delve deeper? That’s just me, of course; others many want to know more, in which case that’s fine, we’re all allowed to be different. Who knows, these prequels may even turn out to be classics of their own right in years to come, and I’ll have tomato sauce with my words when I eat them.

The same could be said of adaptations. Back to Watchmen again; a visually stunning movie, but entertaining to anyone who hasn’t read the comics? Saying that, I found the Jaws movie to be so much better than the book. I’m not against prequels and sequels (Empire Strikes Back is arguably the best crafted of the Star Wars films) but often they strike me as unnecessary.

And that’s as far as I got. A day later, I found out a friend of mine was going into hospital to have cancerous tumours removed from his bladder. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so important anymore that Ewoks got on my tits; such things felt entirely trivial.

Weeks (months) have passed since then, my friend’s been given the all clear, and I’ve been doing a lot of pondering. So, it’s time for some (extremely) amateur philosophy.

See, I’ve been thinking that my opinion about Ewoks is important, because it’s something that matters to me. What are our lives if we don’t care about anything, if we just sit and stagnate? That’s not living, that’s just existing, going through the motions. Animals in a field do that, and we’re better than them (apart, maybe from dolphins; I have a drunken theory that they and whales may be the co-rulers of the world, buy me a pint and I’ll tell you all about it. Another pint, and I’ll share my thoughts on Velma from Scooby-Doo). I care about books and comics and films, the way others care about sport and celebrities and talent shows. I can’t see why people are bothered about who’s done what to/with whom, but I understand that everyone should have their passions. If we didn’t like different things, the world would be a pretty dull place. (What am I saying? A world of sci-fi and fantasy fans would be great! All that unfettered imagination – we’d be driving to work in those flying cars from Blade Runner by now.)

I’ve never made any apologies for what I like – never felt like I’ve had to – as they’re part and parcel of who I am. Always have been, and I’m pretty sure they always will be. In the same way a football fan will be gutted if their team loses, I’m gutted if a book/film/comic fails to meet my expectations. It may be trivial to some, the way other things are trivial to me, but it’s something I invest my time and money in, so I want it to be the best it can be. I don’t want to spend hours watching or reading, only to feel disappointment at the end. I want to be entertained viscerally and emotionally, made to laugh or cry – I want to feel alive!

Will my opinions change the world, make a difference to society? I don’t think so, but – like everyone – I’m entitled to have them, and I’d certainly like to share them. The world’s a tough place, and a good book or film has pulled me through some very dark times. So, if we care about them, they’re important. Here endeth.

As for the prequels and sequels, perhaps they’ve turned out to be decent after all – if they’ve got people interested in the originals, that can’t be a bad thing.

Cyberpunk'd

Last time (longer ago than I intended) I mentioned I was reading William Gibson’s novel Neuromancer. Well, not content with that, I followed with the sequels Count Zero and Mona Lisa Overdrive.

I first read all three a shade over twenty years ago. They were futuristic then, and remain so today. The world of the ‘sprawl trilogy’ is one that still feels like it could happen a few decades into our future; frighteningly realistic, all Gibson didn’t predict is the expansion of the mobile phone (although one could argue that a deck is just that but on a larger scale, a sci-fi laptop) and the constant need for continual updates, one of which is probably running in the background as I write or you read.

Back then, Cyberpunk was my genre of choice, although it could be argued that its heyday was over by the early 90’s. Not only the novels, but there were also the role-playing games, such as Cyberpunk itself and Shadowrun. The latter combined cyberpunk and fantasy with brilliant effect (although the matrix was strangely dull, a conflict of colours and numbers that never truly gripped). Many Sunday afternoons were spent playing Shadowrun, and it remains my favourite RPG to this day.

A friend once said role-playing was a natural extension of reading, one where you could be the hero, affect the plot in a multitude of ways. Many nights in the pub have been spent reminiscing about the old times, talking about how we took on orc hordes, or had a bar fight with troll. Role-playing was a major part of my teens and early twenties, and would later be a reason to get all the lads together for a special occasion (my 40^th birthday is one I’ll never forget).

Books do the same. When I began Count Zero, I could remember where I was when I first read it; I could even recall one Saturday night when I ordered a pizza, and I’m sure I could smell it as I read. Very nostalgic. Not only that, but this re-read revealed more depths to the story than I’d originally thought; after all these years, it felt like a sharper read, the story lean and focused, so much more than just a variety of good ideas strung together.

That’s why I like books. Not only can they take you away from somewhere, but they can also take you back. People recall where they were when the Berlin Wall came down, I can tell you exactly where I was when I first read David Gemmell's Legend (loaned from the library one Tuesday afternoon in 1987, it went with me on a school trip the next day).

Writing’s the same. Although I’m less specific about dates, when it goes well, it feels brilliant. If it’s not going so good, it becomes a struggle, but once that’s bettered, it feels brilliant. So far this year, I’ve wrote every day, whether it be a line or a page, and the sense of achievement is great. It’s not just a case of putting pen to paper, or finger to key; the hardest thing is putting my backside in the chair to do either of those. With all of life’s distractions, it’s easy to put it off until tomorrow; I once read somewhere that ‘it’s easier not to write’, and that’s absolutely true. I might still have many episodes of recorded TV to watch, but I’ve finished editing my book and drafted two short stories. Guess what? It feels brilliant. Writers write, end of story.