Dangerous Jam

I didn’t enjoy this as much as the first three. The entire first two-thirds dragged, despite some fun individual scenes. I’m not even sure if it was all necessary set-up for the startling climax. However, that climax does promise a more interesting fourth book.

Spoiler-cut. ( Read more... )

Re-read. This has one of Francis’s best premises, and the execution lives up to it. Neil Griffon, an antique dealer, has temporarily taken over his trainer father’s stable after his father was seriously injured in a car crash. Neil is kidnapped by a dangerous madman who demands, on pain of destroying the stable, that Neil hire his son Alessandro as a jockey… and let him ride their prize stallion in the Kentucky Derby.

The theme here is fathers and sons. Neil’s father was emotionally abusive and distant, but competent in his own sphere; Neil, forced to step into his shoes, must gain the trust of all the employees who prefer his father. Alessandro’s father is a sociopathic megalomaniac, but gave him everything he ever wanted. The heart of the book is the relationship between Alessandro and Neil, an oddly paternal one though Neil is only 15 years older, and Alessandro’s growth into becoming his own person.

Excellent suspense, plus Francis’s usual good characterization of the supporting cast. My favorite here was Etty, confident in her place as a female “head lad” in a male-dominated profession. Though Francis doesn’t use the word “asexual,” Neil describes her as having no interest in sex. The phrasing isn’t sensitive in current terms, but the sentiment is nonjudgmental.

One of my favorite things about this book was the way that Alessandro seemed to have stepped out of an entirely different novel, one where the arrogant and damaged young man is the romantic lead, and was forced to interact with Francis’s down-to-earth characters, who either didn’t notice how hot he was or noticed but didn’t let it cloud their judgment. His interactions with the no-time-for-this-shit Etty were comedy gold.

Warning for horse harm.

Re-reads, but it's been so long since I read High Stakes and Nerve that all I really remembered was that I didn't think they were in the top tier of Francis's books. Dick Francis is perfect for when you really want to read about someone having a worse day than you are. I may have bronchitis, but at least I'm not suicidally depressed/fighting off an axe-wielding criminal while I have a broken wrist/blindfolded, chained, and soaked in freezing water.


Blood Sport is the most interesting of the three. The plot isn't as well-tuned as his norm, with an unusual amount of low-stakes wandering around looking for clues, but the hero makes it memorable.

Gene is a former James Bond-type secret agent turned private eye (unusually for Francis - his heroes tend not to be professional hero types) suffering from long-term, severe depression. He spends a lot of the book trying to convince himself not to commit suicide. Treatment is never mentioned, and he seems to think it doesn't exist - at one point he muses that some day depression will be recognized as a disease, and babies will be inoculated against it. Originally published in 1967, when there most certainly were treatments for depression. However, to this day many depressed people never seek treatment, so I believe that Gene wouldn't.

In the first and best action set-piece, Gene's boss invites him on a boating trip, where Gene meets the boss's sweet 17-year-old daughter and saves someone's life in what appears to be, but of course is not, a boating accident. The boss gives him a job - hunting down a missing race horse in America - with the clear intent of keeping him too busy to off himself. There's a semi-romance with the teen daughter of the "I'll wait till you're 21" type, of which the best thing I can say is that it's less squicky than usual. There's a much better non-romance subplot involving a woman Gene's age who seems to be a standard unstable, alcoholic sexpot, but who is then given actual depth and a very satisfying storyline.

The pieces of this book don't fit together as well as Francis learned to do later. Gene has a helper who needed better characterization for his storyline to really work, and the final action climax isn't that climactic. But the depiction of depression is very realistic, and it's a good example of how to write a depressed hero without making the book itself depressing to read.

Nerve has an excellent A-plot, in which Rob Finn, a struggling jockey from a family of musicians, is the target of a plot to undermine his career. This book is impossible to put down starting from the first paragraph, in which a jockey shoots himself in front of Rob.

The B-plot, in which Rob tries to court his true love who won't marry him because they're cousins, is less successful. Francis is a bit hit-or-miss with romance. Some of his romances are fantastic. This one never quite worked for me - Joanna's "totally cousins" objection seemed a bit ridiculous and lampshading it didn't help. I never quite bought their relationship.

But the slow disintegration of Rob's career is nailbitingly readable, even though there's no physical jeopardy until about halfway through. The showpiece action sequence, in which Rob is kidnapped, blindfolded and chained, drenched in water on a freezing night, and must free himself and then race the next day, is brilliantly done. Nice comfort via hot soup afterward, too.

I had totally forgotten High Stakes before I re-read it and I can see why. Even now, it is fading from my memory. A toy inventor gets mixed up in some mystery involving racing and... um... wow, I honestly cannot remember more and I read this 48 hours ago. The romance is with a woman whose sole characterization is that she's American. The only parts I remember are the toys, which are cool, and an action sequence in the toy workshop.

I won't be posting these regularly, but hey, it's our first.

School Library Journal

BROWN, Rachel Manija & Sherwood Smith. Stranger. 432p. Viking. Nov. 2014. Tr $18.99. ISBN 9780670014804; ebk. $10.99. ISBN 9781101615393.

Gr 7 Up–Intrigue, feuds, hypocrisy, and a love triangle fill the pages of this dystopian tale narrated by a diverse cast of characters in alternating chapters. After a solar flare, all electronic devices are useless. A mysterious, wounded stranger wanders into Las Anclas (formerly Los Angeles) with a secret; Ross has narrowly escaped the diabolical ruler Voske, who desires a rare book that Ross possesses. Mia’s family shelters Ross as he heals and receives warrior training from 16-year-old Jennie, Mia’s best friend and the town’s teacher. Both teens are attracted to the newcomer, and he can’t decide between them. As the town slowly warms to Ross, likewise his barriers slip away as he enjoys life in Las Anclas. Authors Brown and Smith create a village in which flora and fauna exhibit flesh-eating powers and symbiotic relationships with select people. Some humans remain “Norms” while others are “Changed,” and therein lies the only prejudice; no one looks askance at homosexuality and all races are appreciated. Some elements appear contrived and slightly pedantic: there is exactly one gay couple and one lesbian couple; [GIANT SPOILER REDACTED]; and the Norms and Changed unite in an epic battle against Voske. Despite these conventional components, Stranger is a fresh story with well-developed characters, fast-paced action, a fantastical world, and a hint of romance.–Laura Falli, McNeil High School, Austin, TX

I have to note for the record that 1) "love triangle" and "he can't decide between them" is very misleading, 2) there are actually two lesbian couples and additional non-coupled gay characters, 3) Jennie is 18, 4) classism not only exists but is a pretty major factor in the book, 5) there is only one symbiotic person/non-human relationship in the book, and it's otherwise unknown, and 6) "Norms and Changed unite" is kind of like saying, "American blacks and whites unite to pay taxes every year," ie, there was never any question of them not doing so.

But hey! She generally liked it!

Please suggest any major review blogs that might like a review copy. It's already at Booksmugglers.

Remember that story I wrote for the Darkover anthology, which was the world created by Marion Zimmer Bradley? It turns out that she was a child abuser who abused her own daughter. And possibly others. Note that the link contains some disturbing writing by her daughter, Moira Greyland. Writing which sounds very much like the sorts of things a therapist hears from clients who were abused by their parents. I believe Moira Greyland.

When I was a child, I was abused by an adult who was a highly respected and very well-liked pillar of the community. In my case, there wasn't any question as to believing or not believing that it happened. He never denied that it happened. His defense was that I was making a big deal over a minor incident. To my knowledge, no one in the community stopped being his friend or changed their relationship with him in any way when I wrote (in my published memoir) about the abuse. The MZB case reminds me of that, as does Jerry Sandusky.

I understand how complicated this sort of thing can be. If you haven't personally been abused, you see a wonderful human being who supported a community that changed your life for the better, being accused of horrible things by someone you don't know, don't like, or don't trust, and whom you suspect of exaggerating or outright lies for attention or personal gain.

It is not easy to disclose child abuse when you know in advance that that will be the reception you'll get from that community, even if outsiders believe you.

It is not easy to be the victim of abuse. I was about nine when I was abused. A month or so later, as a direct result, I tried to kill myself.

I debated whether to say anything about this, since my connection is so tangential that I didn't want to make it all about me, when it is not about me. Also saying anything at all is complicated in all sorts of weird ways, many of which are quite trivial compared to child abuse. So, sorry if this is completely self-centered.

- I did not know about the child abuse until about three days ago. I did know that MZB's husband was a convicted child rapist, but I didn't know she was involved.

- I don't mean to imply that everyone who wrote for the anthology or was in any way involved with MZB or her magazine (etc) must make a post, or they're supporting child abuse. I do not believe that.

- I don't mean to imply that everyone who liked MZB's books must stop liking them or publicly denounce them, or they're supporting child abuse. I do not believe that either. The work is the work. I still think Chinatown is a brilliant movie.

- I am not denouncing the anthology or my story. I like the anthology, and I like my story. But I totally understand if you now won't read it.

Please forgive me if this isn't too coherent; I'm home with the flu or some such right now.

I am looking for a movie reference for something I'm writing that meets a few qualifications:

1. Romantic. Must strongly feature a heterosexual romance which is played straight, as it were. The movie can be dark/cynical/ironic in general, but the romance has to be taken seriously. I'm looking for the kind of grand, lush quality as Bride with White Hair or Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon.

2. Not fantasy, not wuxia, not science fiction, and NOT A WAR MOVIE. Ideally, it would be contemporary, but historical might be OK.

3. Must feature action or violence, ideally involving guns. Ideally involving lots of guns. No movies where all the action is traditional martial arts.

4. Must have a noticeably awesome soundtrack. Ideally this would largely consist of songs rather than being orchestral. But not a musical. That is, the characters shouldn't be singing.

To get a sense of what I mean by this, most Quentin Tarantino movies, The Godfather, and Blade Runner fit the "noticeably awesome soundtrack" requirement. It's not that the songs themselves need to be brilliant works of heartbreaking genius, but they need to be used well/interestingly/memorably within the movie. People who liked the movie should include the awesomeness of the music in their post-movie discussion.

5. No old mainstream classics like Casablanca.

Optional but this would be nice: Protagonist should be Asian or Asian-American.

Also optional but nice: A quirky/indie/offbeat vibe.

I miiiight drop the "action" qualification for a quirky Asian movie that fits all the other criteria.

Tarantino has several movies that almost fit, and I might end up going with one of his if I don't find something better.

I feel like the movie I'm looking for was probably directed by Tsui Hark, Wong Kar-Wai, or John Woo, and the right one just isn't coming to mind. The main things I'm stuck on are that I can't recall which movies have good soundtracks or made interesting use of music. Did John Woo ever direct a movie where the actual main emotional relationship was a straight romance rather than a relationship between men?

Silup. Marvel at the possibilities of the human voice at about the 30-second mark.

I'm sure this would be even more impressive to me if I knew Tagalog, but I've been repeatedly annoying my neighbors with it anyway. Google translate informs me that it's about police corruption.

Pison (Steamroller). Also with some impressive rapping, and I actually like this one better as a song. I just had to share that mindblowing bit of "Silup."

ETA: And while I'm at it, here's the song that got me into Gloc-9. It's much more melodic than the two above, and comes with an awesomely angsty video. Magda (with Rico Blanco).

Since I currently mostly listen to music on CD in the car and on my laptop, I attempted to buy a CD from Amazon which, I was excited to see, was very cheap. When it arrived, I was perplexed to see a bunch of English tracks, including "Forever Thuggin" and "Fuck that Bitch."

I fed it into the player, already spinning a backstory in which Gloc-9 had done a first album in which some producers had twisted his arm to be commercial and do gangster rap in English. Clearly, after that he had been disillusioned, gone back to his roots, and started producing the socially conscious songs for which he is now known...

...and then the first track started playing, and I realized that in fact, there are two rappers of the same name, and I had the wrong one. I then sucked it up and paid out to order the actual albums I wanted from Filgoods, "Your online source for Filipino products."

This is a book I liked as a child, which I lost and then re-read as an adult.

I have to confess that I have never been a fan of Daniel Pinkwater. His books are just too surreal for my taste, and I don’t find them that funny. This is true of lots of widely-loved writers, most notably Douglas Adams. It’s not a criticism of them to say that I fail to appreciate their work.

However, while attempting to track down one of my missing childhood books, I found to my surprise that it was written by none other than Daniel Pinkwater, under the name of Manus Pinkwater. The few reviews I found noted that it was an early, non-representative work. “Not funny,” one said disapprovingly. This is probably why I liked it— not that it’s not funny, but that it’s not like his other books. It’s not surrealism, but magic realism: fantasy governed by whether the magic makes emotional sense, not by logical explanations.

Donald Chen, aka Chen Chi Wing, is the only Chinese boy in his school in New York City in an unspecified time in which it’s possible for a poor kid to buy the first edition of “Superman,” but it’s old and used. His horrible teacher is horrible to him, and while he’s not bullied, exactly, he doesn’t have friends either. He gets singled out for being poor, his mother is in the hospital (she doesn’t die, FYI), and he’s lonely.

After a particularly bruising experience, he starts packing comics into his school bag, then climbing the girders of the George Washington Bridge and reading comics all day. One day a winged man lands on the bridge beside him, not quite seeming to register him, like the pigeons who sometimes do the same thing. He’s clearly some sort of superhero, but described more with the language of fantasy. And he’s Chinese.

This atmospheric fantasy mixes precise details of ordinary life with small but very sense-of-wonder bits of fantasy. The magic is never explained, but is clearly there to help out the hero: both to give him a better time in his everyday life (his new teacher appreciates his art, which is inspired by scenes of ancient China that Wingman showed him), and to let him explore his culture in a way he wasn’t otherwise getting to do. But Wingman seems to have a life of his own, which has only brushed against that of a lonely little boy; at the end, they’re spending less time together, but still existing in the same world.

It’s a lovely little book, interspersed with cartoons. There’s some aspects that feel dated, but most of it still works. The deliberate timelessness helps. Even apart from that I identified with being the only person of my race in the school, I can see why it stuck in my memory for 30 years.

Wingman

Every day, A wakes up in the body of a new person. They are always sixteen, and always within a certain geographical range of each other. Everything else varies. It began when A was an infant. Eventually A started counting days, and is now into the 6000s.

A has always lived like this, cultivating philosophical detachment and a non-interference policy. A can access their hosts’ memories, and uses this to go through the paces of their host bodies’ lives, trying to leave everything exactly as they found it. Until A lands in the body of a complete asshole of a teenage boy named Justin, who has a girlfriend named Rhiannon. And A falls in love.

I’ve seen this premise, or something similar to it, a couple times before. The version closest to this one was a short story by Greg Egan called “The Safe-Deposit Box.” But the TV shows Quantum Leap and, to a lesser degree, Touched by an Angel, also played with this concept. It’s a great concept.

Overall, I liked the book. It has fantastic narrative drive and, as I said, a terrific concept. This review will sound more critical than I actually felt reading it; its flaws are interesting and worth discussing, so I’m going to spend more time on them than on what I liked. But seriously, it’s generally very good and if the premise sounds at all interesting, you should read it.

The biggest problem I had with it is that I was interested in the other lives, and in the question of how much a life could change in a single day. I was not very caught up in the love story. And the book is more about the love story. Especially by the halfway mark, A often completely ignores the body they’re inhabiting in favor of obsessing over how they were going to get to see Rhiannon (the logistics of finding transportation to her take up a large percentage of page time), and this was the opposite of what I was interested in.

Rhiannon never came to life as a character, nor did I ever see what she and A saw in each other. She’s a generic quirky girl. I kept thinking there was going to be some reveal about what in her past or current life was keeping her stuck in a borderline emotionally abusive relationship with Justin, when the latter has no apparent redeeming qualities whatsoever. But there isn’t one. She’s the object of desire, and that’s it.

I completely believe that in A’s situation, they would be obsessive and stalkery about a love interest – for one thing, some degree of stalking is required to get to know anyone at all, at least in the beginning. That being said, A was obsessive and stalkery and it didn’t make me root for their relationship.

The non-interference policy was frustrating because A was so inconsistent about it. In one quite vivid scene, A goes through agony in an addict’s body because A refuses to do drugs. (Why won’t A do drugs? I can think of lots of reasons, but A never says why. The conclusion I came to was that Levithan didn’t want to depict drug-taking.) But later, A is extremely reluctant to stop their host from committing suicide. Why is that verboten, but making a host’s body go through painful withdrawal isn’t even considered interference?

What I liked best about the book – the snapshots of all the different lives – also had some holes in it. A only speaks English, and must slowly rifle through a host’s memories to respond even haltingly and in a few words in any other language. If A has been this way since they were a baby, wouldn’t they have absorbed at least a couple other common languages? How could A have possibly cycled into multiple bodies whose language they didn’t know over a period of sixteen years without anyone ever noticing?

Late in the book, A wakes up in an obese body. Alone among all the many incarnations, A is grossed out by the body and gets no sense of the body’s interior life, apparently due to its fatness. Seriously? That’s where A and their infinite experience draws the line? I can see that it was important for A to meet Rhiannon in a body she was turned off by, but there were better ways to do it. (Like a body that bore a very strong resemblance to someone she hated, or to one of her relatives. Squick!)

I also ended up wanting A to experience their lives as more different. Many of them blend together and start seeming very similar. A may have no gender and no race, but people react very differently depending on one’s gender and race, and many other factors besides. I wanted A to notice that more, so they could adjust their behavior accordingly. A poor black boy, a middle-class Asian girl, a white girl in a wheelchair, and a middle-class white boy may have different experiences doing something as everyday as driving a car (a remarkable number of their teenage hosts conveniently had cars) or buying a soda from a convenience store.

And while I’m bitching: there was a subplot that got ought to have been extremely interesting (one of the hosts realized that they were a host and went after A) but was taken over by “evangelicals are idiots.” This was especially frustrating since it led to a fascinating plot revelation that could have taken the book in a whole new direction… about one chapter before the book ended. I wish that had been where that storyline had started.

Oh, and A didn’t sound like a teenager at all. A sounded like Chicken Soup for the Soul. I could buy that due to the circumstances of A’s life, but all the not-terribly-deep life wisdom sometimes got a bit much.

As I said, despite all these qualms, I did enjoy reading the book. It zips along, and I was always excited to get to the next day and the next body. Flawed but definitely worth reading.

Every Day

A young girl in a floating community off the Gulf Coast throws a message in a bottle into the ocean, and it makes its way across the world, to a political prisoner in solitary confinement on a platform suspended over a lake of fire.

Letters travel back and forth, through the ocean and the post office and fishing boats, through mass media and tied to the leg of a crow. Em, the girl, confides in Kaya her worries about her older brother, who’s in jail for theft. Kaya, the activist, tries to explain her complex political situation in terms a child can understand. They tell each other about the folklore and culture of their communities, which are both under threat, Kaya’s from the government which has banned her language and religion, Em’s from a hurricane and an uncaring larger community.

Em tries to reach her brother and hold her family together; Kaya comes under increasing pressure to stop— or enable— a revolution. Worlds apart, each of them looks for the power to help the other, even if neither can help themselves.

Water and fire, ocean currents and rivers of lava, the Seafather who watches over those who live on the ocean and the Ruby Lady of the volcano, creatures of air and earth and sea, two communities in danger of losing their culture, all come together in this intricate and compelling story, like a pair of hands reaching out toward each other from ten thousand miles away.

The author is a friend of mine, but this unique, moving, sophisticated novel would be up my alley regardless. It’s not quite sui generis; its setting, magical realism, and one of its two heroines reminded me of the movie Beasts of the Southern Wild, and its melding of political themes with an edge-of-fantasy quality reminded me of Sherman Alexie and Banana Yoshimoto and Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. But it was sufficiently difficult to classify that it could not find a publisher, and so became one of the increasingly large number of self-published gems.

It’s free on Amazon for the weekend as a special promotion. Check it out.

Pen Pal, by Francesca Forrest