Harry Potter: again, and lastly
You know, I had planned on doing a little summation after each book, but… I lost momentum. And I wanted to keep reading, so I did. So… I’m not going to bother with writing down all my thoughts, which would probably be frankly boring anyhow. So instead these are a few rambly musings.
I enjoyed them. I don’t think I have a favourite, although some of the twists and revelations in Half-Blood Prince were awesome. Order of the Phoenix was definitely too long (although, hooray for not being an editor, I don’t know what I’d cut. Definitely some of the Cho sap, though). I had not expected the end of Half-Blood Prince, and was a bit distraught by it! I had half-expected some of what happened to Harry in Deathly Hallows, but it was still well done.
Rowling’s style definitely improved over the series. And the intended audience changed immensely, too. This is partly to be expected, of course – hard to write a series that spans 11 year olds to 17 year olds without that happening. Still, I wonder how 11 year olds, who are introduced to the series now, will go with Deathly Hallows by their 12th birthday; that would be pretty harsh, I reckon. Also, I was impressed by how many threads she managed to pick up and bring to a conclusion in the last book; it takes a clear sense of direction from the start OR the ability to write like that’s what you meant all along, without having to invent anything too ridiculous, to manage it.
Rowling definitely knows teenagers. Yes, there are some exaggerations, and a few daft bits, but… gosh I think she has teenaged interactions, and relationships, well sorted. Probably not so evidently in the H/R/H triangle, but certainly with some of the others. The Ron/Lavender thing is hilarious, just by the way, and way too accurate.
Finally:
The Malfoys? a very cool ending to their particular thread.
Dumbledore? infinitely more complex than I had anticipated.
Harry? pretty much what I expected. Still a bit annoying.
Snape? most awesome and intriguing and interesting storyline overall.
Hermione? it PISSED ME OFF that she seemed to be the only one who shrieked, moaned, sobbed or in any other way demonstrated emotion through her voice. I think Ron scored the occasional groan, and maybe some of the others got to shout, but this rankled me a lot.
And very lastly? I cannot believe she did that to Lupin and Tonks! No fair!!
Prisoner of Azkaban
So I read this one on the weekend, too; I’ve just been lazy about commenting on it.
This one is different from the first two; in those, there was a definite end-point, if you like: getting to a destination or thing. Here, although there’s a destination in terms of finally meeting the eponymous Prisoner, it’s not entirely clear from the title what will happen when Harry finally does. Once again it was fascinating to read when already knowing what happens in the end – I think Rowling does quite well at not giving hints about Sirius’ innocence, but it’s not like it makes absolutely no sense. I had been a bit wary that her plot structures would leave something to be desired, but the revelations do make sense, which is a relief: it’s just a matter of looking at something from a different perspective, or with a tiny amount of additional information.
I really liked Lupin. I seem to remember hitting my head over not getting the connection with his name sooner, when watching the movie… and then, reading the book, I finally realised the connection between ‘Sirius’ and his turning into a dog. Sometimes her names are just a bit silly and obvious; sometimes, she is very clever (like finally understanding the Phoenix’s name; Fawkes! So clever!). Once again, the actor worked well enough for my imagination in this role. Perhaps surprisingly, Gary Oldman doesn’t stick in my mind as Sirius. However, maybe this is not as surprising as I think; Oldman is such an astonishing actor that half the time I don’t realise it’s him, because he changes so much between roles.
I thought the whole reveal about being godfather and Harry being so dead keen on that happened a bit fast. I did enjoy Sirius’ near-insanity, and his attitude towards Wormtail (heh, nearly typed Wormtongue there; two of a kind, those characters!) – worked neatly for both guilty-Sirius and innocent-Sirius.
Snape continues to be a fascinating character; there’s clearly something that going to happen with his character – there has to be!! – the whole saving Harry in the first book, issues with James Potter et al at school, blah de blah… his story arc is perhaps the one I am most interested in following, because I am struggling to imagine how it will turn out. (Even if I’m wrong, I can imagine various outcomes for HR&H).
And, again, there’s just a bit more here in the book than made it into the movie. I don’t remember the providence of the Marauder’s Map being explained in the movie – that’s cool; Percy, again; and Divination classes are hilarious (oooh there’s another actor who works – Emma Thompson makes me giggle every time I imagine her in those glasses).
Anyway. I’m writing this because I just finished Goblet of Fire and figured I should do this properly, and write about them in order. It might take me a day or two to get around to writing about it, though… there’s a bit to think about…
Green and the Nightside
So a while back, due to a mix-up with an Amazon order for a friend, I ended up with two books by Simon R Green – Something from the Nightside and Nigtingale’s Lament. I put off reading them for a while because I wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t be a little bit too scary for me (I’m happy to admit I’m a wuss), but last week I needed a little paperback to take with me somewhere, and each of these is quite slim. So I grabbed one… and read it in, oh, a day. Then read the other, also in a day.
I’m not sure if there are books in the series before these two; I get the feeling there might be at least one, and I think there’s also one between them. Not that it matters hugely; you get enough back story that you don’t feel like you’re missing out.
I was already a big fan of Green thanks to the Deathstalker series (what’s not to like about Hazel? And Owen? And especially Jack and Ruby??) – although my big complaint about that series is the same one I have with the Nightside books: repetition. In the Deathstalker books, it got so I could anticipate how people would be described, and what people would say (after, say, five books); I’m already there with the Nightside. However, for me anyway, the writing is amusing enough and the story interesting enough that I am prepared to be tolerant of the slightly lazy writing (or is it an attempt at familiarity?).
The main character is John Taylor. He grew up in the Nightside – an area of London not everyone can find, and certainly not everyone wants to find; where not everyone is human, dreams and nightmares come true, and it is always night. He’s been away for a few years, but now he’s back; there’s mystery around his birth; and he’s a private detective because he has a Talent for finding things… anything. Green goes for a bit of a Bladerunner that doesn’t always work, but also has some pretty awesome humour going, with some very nice puns and making metaphors come true. The other characters are entertaining – Suzie Shooter! Razor Eddie! Walker! – and the city itself provides endless scope for madcap adventures.
Is it as scary as I had feared? Hell no. Some gruesome things happen, but they’re passed over very lightly; the humour and the fast pace help too.
Is it quality literature? Hell no.
Is it worth reading? Definitely. If you like witty repartee, clever plot twists and easy-on-the-brain slightly stereotyped characters, in an easily digested format, the Nightside books are a great read. They’re the sort of thing I would happily take on a plane to read, knowing I would be utterly enthralled but that it wouldn’t matter if I got interrupted. There’s definitely a place for that sort of book.
Also? I doubt I’ll get around to read these again, so if you want to give them a go – drop me a line!
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
1. On the book vs the movie
So this one, again, felt a lot like the movie to me. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; in fact I’m impressed the movie managed to stay so faithful. Of course, this could be the fact that I saw the movie before reading the book talking…
Naturally, though, there were some differences, and I found those quite interesting. I’m quite sure Hermione’s parents are never seen in the movie – and the idea of them being shepherded by the Weasleys is quite a fascinating one, hinting as it does at a harmonious Muggle/wizard relationship. Given the threat to Muggles and Mudbloods throughout the book, this is an interesting little idea. I also would much have preferred to see the dueling scene as represented here, than as I remember it from the movie – surely I can’t have forgotten Hermione in a catfight?? And finally, I don’t recall Percy acting weird in the movie. I was really, really hoping for there to be more than “ooh, Percy’s got a girlfriend to his oddity – but alas, no. (Also, much more on Fred and George; I suspect they’re going to be favourite characters.)
As for actors and characters… well, Snape is Alan Rickman and that’s that, and it’s just fine. Also, I could never imagine Lockhart as anyone other than that gloriously inane version Branagh presented, and I have to say I thought it worked perfectly. They’re really the only two who have imprinted themselves on me strongly at this stage. I guess Ron and Hermione in a way, too, but at this stage they’re not exactly outstanding characters, so it doesn’t matter so much what they look like (to me).
2. The story itself, etc
It still reads very much as written for younger readers – and that’s just fine, too, because it was. There’s a bit of complexity (the reason why everyone gets Petrified rather than dying is quite sneaky, and I like it), and enough character development that they’re not quite 2D. (I do look forward to further character development as they get older.) I read it in a few hours, as my Dealer told me I would (and as I did the first); in some ways I was actually disappointed that there wasn’t more deviation from the movie, as there were no surprises.
I hate Dobby. That is, I hate the self-inflicted violence, as I did with the movie. I can’t quite believe it’s in there – it seems quite out of character; ironing your fingers?? Even the spiders aren’t as troubling as that image.
I’m really looking forward to the development of Lucius Malfoy’s character.
I have the third one sitting right here, waiting for me to finish the work I should be doing so I can legitimately skyve off…
Gods Behaving Badly
My mother told me to read this book, and after reading about Aphrodite and Apollo getting it on like rabbits I’m a leedle bit embarrassed by that.
The book’s by Marie Phillips; from what I can tell it’s a first novel. The Olympians live in a big old house in London, and it – and them – have definitely seen better days. They bicker and argue, and they still try to act as cavalierly with humans as in ‘the good old days’ – but their power is significantly reduced, which naturally feeds into some rather serious frustration. And then there’s Neil and Alice, the classic near-innocents who get tied up in a cosmic game…
You need a certain amount of knowledge about ancient Greek myth to get along with this book. Although some references are explained – like Daphne, and Orpheus&Eurydice – without a basic grasp on the personalities and traits of gods like Artemis and Aphrodite et al, I think you’d probably struggle to fully appreciate this story.
That said, with a rudimentary understanding, this is a very funny story. Apollo reduced to being an oracle on cable? Artemis the dog-walker? And let’s not even talk about Zeus… Perhaps the funniest two are Eros and Athene. Eros, the Christian. And Athene, mind-boggling intelligent… but articulate? Not so much. Even without an ancient Greek background, it would still be funny, since it’s obvious they’re gods and it’s obvious they’re not happy about their current place in the cosmos.
An amusing story that took me a couple of hours to barge through. Highly recommended for a bit of ancient Greek fluff.
Odysseus’ Last Stand
I can’t decide whether this is a play on Odysseus finally going home, or on the Led Zeppelin song Achilles’ Last Stand. Doesn’t matter, I guess.
Dave Stamboulis, a Greek-American, decides to travel the world. He decides to do this by bike. He ends up riding 40,000km over seven years. This is the book he wrote from his journals and notes afterwards.
It’s a truly remarkable journey, of course. 40,000km?! I read this because my love has found a few books recently dealing with cycle touring, to help get us psyched up for our jaunt this year. It did help with that in some ways, but at the same time there are certain aspects of Stamboulis’ journey that I have absolutely no interest in replicating. For one thing, he meets and marries a woman on the trip… and then separates from her, too, in quite ignominious circumstances. Hopefully seven years of marriage will help us not to face the same sort of trials in our relationship! (I’ve made him promise never to ditch me in an unknown city, though, as a consequence.)
Stamboulis is not a professional writer, so it may seem unfair to criticise his writing. Nonetheless, there are some aspects of the book that annoyed me. He’s inconsistent in whether he focuses on the riding itself, or on the country. This may well reflect his own notes and journals, of course, and maybe he figured this was the more interesting way of approaching the world. Plus, probably in some areas the riding itself was quite boring. It is fascinating to see his perspective on the world: he travels through Kashmir, and through Turkey, and through some of the ‘Stans, and gets a remarkable view of the people and culture. Plus, he finishes up riding through America, and while I’d like to think that he exaggerates the reactions and attitudes of some of his compatriots I’m quite sure he hasn’t. Which is, frankly, terrifying. Also annoying is the here-and-gone discussion of his emotions. And before any of your blokes start shaking your head at such a girly thing to say: he separates from his wife, and for chapter upon chapter she’s not mentioned! This, for me, is simply unrealistic. Perhaps he decided that he wanted to keep that part of his life out of the book, but I would have preferred a statement to that effect – or, if not, then the rest of the book should have been equally emotionless. But it’s not, so it feels inconsistent.
Overall, though, Odysseus’ Last Stand is quite well written. (Odysseus, by the way, is the bike – the same bike for the whole trip, with remarkably few mechanical issues.) It’s generally engaging and interesting, and is certainly inspiring. He’s heavily influenced by Buddhist and Zen philosophies, and this of course impacts on how he views things like materialism, ambition, etc. While I got impatient with some of his philosophising – some of it was a bit hokey, some I disagreed with – he does make some interesting points about interacting with other cultures, with being willing to take risks and chances, and more generally about not simply following the rat race simply because you’re expected to. Obviously, this is something that I do agree with.
This is not a book that will appeal to all. I went through a big travel-book phase a little while back, and am still somewhat in that zone. I would recommend it as a way of thinking about the world, and also to marvel at one man (sometimes with one woman) facing huge differences in culture and language, and making do.
Battle of the Sexes…
in Science Fiction.
I have finally finished reading this, by Justine Larbalestier… pity it wasn’t in time for the podcast on Larbalestier’s work, but oh well.
It’s given me an enormous amount to think about, not least of which the fact that, despite the reality that women are still not yet equal with men in so many facets of life (the recent interweb spat over the very issue of women in SF as a case in point), still things have improved out of sight in less than 50 years. I would guess that no man these days would be given the print-space to vocalise the idea that women are unwanted in SF (unless it was to set him up for target practice); but this is exactly what happened only a few decades ago, in complete seriousness.
It’s also given me a huuuuge list of books to find, starting with the Tiptree Awards winners. I think it might be time for me to start stttrreeetching myself in my SF-reading, get out of the comfort zone every now and then, and that seems like a good way to start. Good thing the lists are online; pity some of them are short stories that might be very hard to find.
Because Larbalestier includes a big section on the contribution of women to fandom, I’ve also got quite a sense of history and community from reading BoTS. Despite having been a reader of SF&F for a significant period of time, I’ve really only been part of the ‘fan community’ as it’s usually known for a very short period of time, and I still often feel uncomfortable there: both because I’m not sure that I belong, and also because sometimes I’m not sure I want to belong (although why, I’m also not sure). Reading about women writing letters to pulps from the moment of their inception, though, is just so damned cool that it makes me excited to be following in that mode – and I feel that the reviewing etc I get into does follow that. So that’s a really great outcome from reading this wonderful book.
(The book came out of Larbalestier’s PhD, so there are some sections that are a bit tech-heavy for those not very comfortable with literary theory. Much of it, though, is very accessible to the intelligent ‘lay’ reader.)
Son of a Witch
I read Wicked, by Gregory Maguire, a while back, and it changed my world. The politics of Oz – the complex, contrary, and convoluted characters – and the rather converse way of looking at Dorothy (and her little dog, too) were breathtaking. Elphaba – who becomes the Wicked Witch of the West – is not a particularly nice person, and not even always very sympathetic, but she is irresistible. Having read this, there is no way I would go and see the musical. I’m sure it’s very well done, and I hear that it manages to be quite complex, but… there is simply no way it could do the book justice.
Son of a Witch is the sequel. It follows Liir, who may or may not be Elphaba’s son, over about 10 years of his life. Again, it’s stunningly well written – Maguire has a beautiful way with words, quirky and yet apt descriptions that conjure up pictures effortlessly. (I think I’m going into raptures here… it really is that good, though.) Liir is a bizarre critter in many ways. Nothing about his childhood was conventional; with no real family history, he feels adrift and rootless in a world that is going through its own turmoils. I had to check the copyright page to see when this was written, and 2005 doesn’t surprise me; it feels very much like a book written in a world of Wars on Terror and all the attendant issues that the West has experienced over the last eight years or so. (I’m sure this sort of politics was written about before that, but I do think it’s had a huge impact on worldbuilding recently.) Again, Liir is not entirely sympathetic as a character. He does some dreadful things, and his willy-nilly-ness sometimes gets annoying. Nonetheless, he is compelling and engaging.
This is a brilliant book. I’m a bit sad there doesn’t appear to be a third, since the conclusion seems to leave it open; there’s another book set in Oz, but it focuses on the Cowardly Lion and I’m not sure I’m ready to read about Oz and not have it focus on Elphaba, just yet. (Instead I’ve bought Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, which I’m terribly excited about.) Even if you’re not a huge fan of the ‘fractured fairytale’ type of story, don’t be put off – I’ve not read the original Oz books, and I don’t feel like I’ve missed out on anything. It’s about family, and politics, and finding your place, and living in history’s shadow, and taking responsibility… and did I mention that the writing is to swoon over?
Clive Cussler
As a teen, I had a Thing for Dirk Pitt. It complemented my Thing for James Bond (book version), and Biggles. I read all the Cussler I could get my hands on.
Last night, overheated and unable to sleep, I watched half of Sahara – which I thoroughly enjoy as a ridiculous and entertaining movie.
On the back of that, I decided to read Black Wind, cowritten by Dirk Cussler (!). What better way to spend another scorcher of a summer day?
Answer: reading something that is actually readable. I don’t think it’s just that I’ve become more aware of reading things like “the perky receptionist”… it’s just that the details are presented in about the most boring way, and the predictability – which in some ways I used to love, because the repartee between Dirk and Al was humorous to my teenaged eyes – is now just… predictable.
I don’t think I could ever go back and read old Cusslers, for fear that they will turn out to be as badly written. Same as I could never read the McCaffreys I loved, again.
Black Wind is going into the off-to-second-hand-bookshop pile, with just three chapters read.
Books I’ve read recently
Ines of my Soul, by Isabel Allende. I don’t usually read historical fiction – at least, not such recent historical fiction! My mum raves about Allende; most of her other work is contemporary literature, so I’m unlikely to read it. This one, though, is about Ines Suarez, a real Spanish woman who heads off to South America in the 1500s, following her husband. She ends up going to Chile with the conquistadors, when they conquer and settle there. It’s written as though it’s a memoir – old Ines interrupts the story of young Ines at various points, and she speaks directly to her daughter at a number of points. It’s a really fascinating story on a number of levels. There is, apparently, very little info about Ines, so this is very definitely a fiction, but I understand that Allende did a huge amount of research beforehand, so the conditions she describes (at the very least) will be based on fact. Then, old Ines reflects a lot on the whole idea of memory and writing autobiographies, throwing doubt on her own memories at various points, so that’s an intriguing philosophical line. And the writing – well, I read this in a couple of days, which I often do, but her prose is simple delightful to read.
Flood, by Stephen Baxter. Not my favourite Baxter, but still pretty good. The world is flooding… and no, it’s not a global warming polemic. Time span is 2016 to 1052. Some good characters, and interesting social and political reflections.
Chaos Space, by Marianne de Pierres. The sequel to Dark Space, this follows a number of characters – some of whom have finally met up, so their stories start meshing, which makes it all a bit easier to keep straight. There is a lot of weird stuff going on in this universe, and a lot in the background which is only just being revealed in this, the second book. It’s a fairly awesome space opera, although some of the characters tick me off. Still one of the most intriguing aspects is that her main character is Latina; it made me realise just how Anglo a lot of the future is projected to be (at least in the stuff I’ve mostly read; maybe that’s just a reflection of me).
twenty-six lies/one truth, by Ben Peek. About the weirdest book I’ve read in a long time. 26 chapters, each with ten or so entries; each chapter has entries starting with the same letter. It’s roughly “autobiographical” – although like Ines, Peek has a lot to say about the unreliability of memory, and when you pair that with his many entries on fraudsters and hoaxes of the literary world, it’s clear he’s sending up the whole idea of autobiographical ‘truth’. It also reminded me of Eddie Burrup, the male Aboriginal artist who sold a lot of paintings and was then revealed to be the female, white Elizabeth Durack; she’s a distant relative. Anyway, twenty-six lies is confronting, absorbing, and disturbing – mostly in a good way. I read it in a few hours. Half way through I realised it doesn’t have to be read in a linear fashion, but I’m stuck in my ways so I just kept turning the pages. And, at the end, I realised that in fact it does work linearly – there are revelations towards the end that change the way you think about the rest of it. You could read it haphazardly, it would just change your reception of some of the things Peek reveals, although it wouldn’t spoil the story as it would your bog-standard narrative. I also like the cover – typewrite art by Andy Macrae, and the art by Anna Brown, which I recognised from the Nowhere Near Savannah webcomic Peek and Brown collaborated on.
At the moment… Chocolate: A Bittersweet Saga of Dark and Light, by Mort Rosenblum. I had thought this would be more about the history of chocolate, and it does have some of that, but it’s actually more about chocolate today – the chocolate masters, the chocolate producers, the scandals, the individuals, different perspectives around the world. It’s made me realise that I am in no way a chocolate connoisseur, and probably never will be – living in Australia, and not having the money to spend on it! It’s brilliantly written… and I think I will go back to it right now.
Randomly Yours, Alex 