Not so happy

Predator

Patricia Cornwell

I have to admit that i have been sorely disappointed by this book: Without having gone back to look at their reviews, i seem to remember having enjoyed the (i think) two of Cornwell’s previous works about Kay Scarpetta, a forensic pathologist (is that the term?) who is Cornwell’s primary detective. That ought to bode well for Predator, same author, same characters, same concept.

This time, though, it is completely different. I was at least a hundred pages in before it was even clear that i would continue reading, and more than a hundred and fifty before i began to understand enough to even begin to care about any of the characters (any! even the ones i’d encountered in the previous books) and whether they lived or died. That’s not a good result for an author! I think that a good portion of my disappointment is with the style or writing Cornwell uses here; she changes perspective, plot, and characters very frequently, and i found it difficult to understand what was happening where to whom, much of the time.

In addition, many of the characters, even the positive ones, are ~ or appear to be ~ unlikeable, and i didn’t like them. Furthermore, and this can be an issue with many authors who have written a number of series books, it may be that too much links to previous books, too much is assumed to be understood by the reader, when the first time (or close to it) reader even of a book well into a series still needs to be brought in and helped to understand. That did not happen here. All in all, unsatisfying and, i’m afraid, by my criterion, not a success: I won’t read another Cornwell based simply on her name and mine experience here; to be sure, i may well read another of her books, but such an action would be based on the success of others of her works i’ve read, not this one. Sad.

Up & Down

WhyBalloons Rise and Apples Fall; The Laws that make the World Work

Jeff Stewart

I’m torn by this book. 

I would really like to have liked it a lot; i’m not certain, however, that i can report that i did. Also find i’m torn in deciding who the target audience is; i cannot tell if it is really, as i assumed upon beginning, intended for the intelligent adult with little particular physical knowledge but a sufficiency to understand the complex concepts presented, or if it should be read by children ~ teenagers, perhaps ~ who are learning science for the first time. Both seem to be possible interpretations. 

To go back to my first point:  Though i would have liked to have liked it, there were several issues that i found interrupting mine enjoyment of Why Balloons Rise. For example, though he generally did a good job of building on the previous concepts he had introduced, i found at least a couple of occasions when Stewart seemed to bring something in that i ought to have known (and probably actually do) but that he had no reason to assume i knew based on his apparent assumptions about his readers. In the end, the pleasure i get from reading about things i don’t know or don’t fully understand, attempting to further my knowledge a little, outweighs the annoyance (it didn’t really rise to the level of aggravation) i found in the writing style and lack of focus. A near run thing, however, and i’m not certain i’d pick up another book based purely on the name of the author; it would have to depend partly, as well, on the subject matter, if it looked interesting, a subject i wanted to learn more about.

Language lists!

False Friends; Faux Amis
Ellie Malet Spradbery

Whoops, i wrote this a few days ago and never got around to posting it.  No time like the present to correct that error!

A curious review to write, as it is a little contrary to mine usual practice in that i have not fully read the book; this is acceptable, however, as it is a reference book, and thus not really subject to a complete reading such as i usually give the books i review. In fact, the only reason for this writing is that i received the thing from the publisher via the Early Reviewers programme of Library Thing, and am therefore morally bound to write and post a review. Nevertheless, i give it my best, as if i’d actually read every word.

The purpose of this little tome is to guide the visitor to France ~ or at least the infrequent speaker of the language ~ into not making embarrassing slips, led astray by similar words & phrases with different meanings. As i am not likely to visit France, or need to speak that language, at any time in the close future, it is a little purposeless for me, yet full of fascination anyway.

I am reminded as i look at the book of one i used to own (possibly still do, in New York State, among those i fear i shall never again see) which was similar in concept, and because of the situation in which i acquired that one, this one gives me happy feelings. It was as we were getting ready to move to Rome that i bought a book also called, if i am right, False Friends; it aimed to help the learner of Italian not be caught out by words which are similar in sound and spelling ~ etymologically related words ~ yet with differences in either meaning or precise structure. The catch, however, was that this was written for people who already spoke French and were likely to be caught out by Italian’s resemblances to that language. The one pair i remember with glee was formaggio, with the same meaning but a subtly different spelling from fromage. The difference here, of course, is the target audience, the English speaker speaking French.

Lists, in and of themselves, are innately interesting (that’s mine opinion, and i’m sticking to it!); lists of words and, perhaps even better, phrases, are more so, clearly. Where this book possibly fails is not in its structure, but in the fact that, as betrayed by the subtitle Book Two, there has been a previous book, in which probably Spradbery mined most of the more obvious false friends, so here she is left with some which i cannot really see people confusing (entraîner/to train, armoire/armoury), which rather defeats the purpose, i fear. She has filled out the book with several other sections, giving French expressions and their English equivalent and vice versa, and nice series of lists of various types of word (insects, football, diseases).

All in all, a worth-while book, though perhaps a little less useful than i imagine Book One to have been; the back cover blurb talks about “this series” which leads me to wonder if there is a Book Three in the works, and if it also will be a shorter list, with more padding. The problem is that despite their partially common ancestry, English and French are not really that similar; my French/Italian book makes perfect sense because, seen in the broad picture, the two languages are almost just different dialects, so share a huge number of potential pitfalls. One could imagine a smiliar series of books between German and Dutch, or Danish and Swedish. Unless one goes down the English/North American English route, our language doesn’t lend itself hugely to this, because of its highly eclectic history.

Casual violence for children

Viking’sDawn

Henry Treece

There was a time when i read everything i could get my hands on by Henry Treece; it must have started at least forty years ago, because i know that i was at Shrewsbury House when i first read any of his books; i can also remember in the very early 1970s, in Vancouver, visiting the book bus that came around to West Point Grey, and desperately searching for any of Treece’s works ~ usually unsuccessfully. It is thus now at least thirtyfive years since i’ve read these books i loved, and i almost jumped for joy when i came across this one in the Machynlleth market; in fact, i had to physically restrain myself so that the stall-holder wouldn’t suddenly raise the price (50p ~ can you beat it!) knowing she had a live one. Of course, i could have bought all of them at any time (assuming i had money!) in any bookshop or on-line, but how much more joy has been brought to me by this method than that. Furthermore, a particular joy of this book is that i think it could well be the exact edition i read previously; certainly, the cover art looks very familiar, it is a Puffin book, and is price-marked at 3/6 (verbalised as “three and six” meaning three shillings and six pence, or rather less than half the very good price i just paid for it [50p equates to ten shillings, old style]!), so clearly this volume dates to prior to 15 February 1971, Decimalisation Day. So, the book itself? Well, what can there be other than joy in rereading something one has held in rosy memory for so long? To be sure, it’s simple: It was written for children; it’s more story than history: It is fiction; it’s casually brutal: It was written prior to the contemporary concern with correctness and concern for “lesser” peoples. But these are not really faults, merely descriptions of what, why, and when it was written. It is also a great story, exciting, based in truth, a superb introduction to an era of history, and, to put it simply, extremely enjoyable. I’d like to read this aloud to JAG.

Parody, but not completely successful

The Chronicles of Blarnia

Michael Gerber

A parody along the lines of The Va Dinci Cod (itself essentially a parody of a parody), so much along the lines, in fact, that it’s probably published by the same people, possibly written by the same person (though the name is completely different). I have to say, however, that this one is not quite as clever, and definitely more tedious, than the other, so not nearly as successful by my estimation. To be honest, i found it dragging at points, much as the Wide Witch’s sledge dragged and fought against travel, particularly towards the end of the novel, when the repetitions of the jokes became merely annoying (thinking here, for example, of the beavers’ log babies, the hairballs Asthma brought up, even the mock-Tudor speech of the children once they became kings and queens).

At first, though, i have to say i enjoyed the book; it is quite clever, though i should think that the original, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, is quite an easy target for the author, with nice touches such as children living in the present, but still thinking that the Second World War is raging, being sold for human experimentation to a mad professor, and the Beavers as a lesbian couple. Indeed, i did not not enjoy the thing, i simply found it going more slowly than i wanted; for, when the reader (in this case me) starts looking at page numbers and working out how many more are to be read, it is surely a bad sign for the author.

Quality Rules, OK?

The Treehorn Trilogy

Florence Parry Heide

A book from the Library Thing Early Reviewers programme. To be truthful, a trilogy from the.... I’m reviewing it as one, however, since each book is short and i received the three together. Before i start on the books themselves, i have to comment what a pleasure the Early Reviewers is; i had a note in my letterbox from the postman, indicating they’d tried to deliver something but it was too big and i hadn’t been there, so i walked to the other end of town, to the sorting office, wondering what it could possibly be. Then walked back, carrying a parcel, having no idea what was inside it, actually shaking it, trying to make deductions about the contents!

First things (almost) first, then. The three books come as a box set; and what a box it is! Unlike many i have or have had, it is solid, well constructed, a container that will take a lot of beating from a child who is likely to treasure these books for years; it has a different colour on each face, reflecting the use of these attractive, gentle (not the bright, sharp colours popular with children’s publishers) pastels on the covers of the books within; there are also three illustrations by Edward Gorey, a foretaste of those to come, as the drawings in the books are by him.

The books, then. Again, like the box itself, the quality is high; it’s been a long time since i have bought books for children of the age these are aimed at (a good half dozen years, i should think, with the prime book buying several years earlier, as JAG tended to have his sisters’ books recycled, rather than new ones bought), but i do not remember many that were of this quality: Good strong covers i imagine could take quite a beating; pages of thick paper which won’t fold or tear as easily under little fingers; a slight gloss to the surface which might well protect the content by aiding in slowing down staining by juice spillages.

The content, then. I do not remember reading any of these books when our children were younger; i’m not saying it didn’t happen, just that i don’t think it did. The point is that i’m pretty sure i’d have recalled them (even apart from my very good memory for books i have read) because they are lovely. Treehorn is a young boy, maybe eight or ten years old, though his abilities seem to vary at times; he has parents who are, while physically present, in any meaningful sense absent, having no understanding of his life, nor any ability (it seems) to even hear him when he speaks ~ at least, what he says makes no impact at all upon them, and it ought to, because he reports some fairly strange happenings in his life. These happenings are, of course, the point of the book as Treehorn tries to make sense, and take value from, a tree which temporarily grows money, a genii in a jar, the sudden and inexplicable downsizing he goes through. In each case the reader can see he acts rationally (at least from his point of view) and the people around him cannot because they don’t understand, being caught up too much in their own lives ~ surely how some adults much appear to children much of the time. As i mentioned earlier, the drawings are by Edward Gorey, for as long as i can remember, one of my favourite illustrators. They add hugely to the value of the stories, as always with good illustrations, as they help to interpret what is happening, often with a delightful humour.

All in all, this is a lovely set, beautifully produced, written, and illustrated; Heide died last month, but i hope that she had the opportunity to see what this publisher had done with her trilogy, as it much surely have made her happy. The opportunity to receive and review it has certainly made me happy, and i look forward to the time (perhaps not too soon in the future, thank you) when i can read these to grandchildren.

Another winner

The English Parliament

Kenneth MacKenzie

Neither an history of Parliament, nor a description of how it works, this book is more an history of how it developed the functions it has from the precedents allowed it under the feudal system. One of the great strengths of the British Constitution, unwritten, but not undefinable, is that everything in it can be traced back, mostly to the late mediæval period and the structure of the England’s governance under the feudal monarchy. It is for this reason that attempts such as those by the current Labour and Liberal Democrat parties to essentially remove the House of Lords are so wildly misguided, to be resisted with all Parliament’s ability, and why any attempt to make the United Kingdom into a republic are (it is devoutly to be hoped) doomed to failure. This continuity of the feudal state, which in some measure we still live in, is almost unique among the world’s nations; i don’t know of another which has the same ability to trace back all the forms of government to the system of seven or eight centuries ago, though it may be possible in the case of, perhaps, Japan, whose history is something i am largely unaware of.

I'm really fortunate; i've been going through a patch of good books lately ~ of the last twenty i've read i'd say there're only about two i haven't enjoyed. Yay! Yay for good books. Yay for clever authors. Yay for me for finding them.

Grammar Rules, OK?

What, precisely, does this say about me? My boss visited me at work the other day, to give me a letter from someone high up in the company, changing somewhat my working conditions, and to cover those changes with me; he gave me the letter to read, then asked if i had any comment. The very first thing i did was to point out a grammatical error in the letter (“lot’s” for “lots”) and laugh that the higher up clearly doesn’t have a proof reader like my boss (i perform that task for him quite regularly). In fact, there were three errors in the letter ~ which in itself surely says something about the value that higher up puts on us more lowly types!

What got my curiosity going, however, was my reaction to the letter. The changes are not really dramatic, nothing that will badly affect me, though i am going to have to work a little bit later twice a week, which could be a problem if i were with someone also working full-time and we had young children at home ~ and there are bound to be some of my colleagues affected in this way ~ so i didn’t really have to question the content of the letter; nevertheless, it is surely a little odd that my first reaction is to examine the form of the message, not the message itself. In truth, errors such as these stand out to me when i read something, stand out so dramatically that i struggle to overcome them (doesn’t mean i cannot make them myself, however, so don’t bother pointing out any of mine own!) and move on to the meaning.

This confusion (though that isn’t quite the right word, since i know what i am doing, and can tell the difference) between medium and meaning affects me at other times, too. One of the most obvious is reading books. If i come across an error of spelling, grammar or (heaven help us) fact in something i am reading i am confounded by it. I am truly amazed that, whatever it is, it was not picked up by the author in proof-reading, or by his editor, or by a copy-editor or someone paid to do the job at the publishing house. How, i wonder, can such carelessness have been allowed to slip through? Frequently, if i go back and read my book reviews, i have been so incensed by a series of such errors that i have had to mention them in the review; on occasion, such an error is almost all i can recall of a book i have read: There was a book i read in seminary, for example, by a man called McBeth, and though i know i enjoyed the book, the single thing i remember about it (other than its physical dimensions and feeling, of course) is that there was an error in which he mis-dated the Glorious Revolution, or misspoke in naming the participants. How silly of me, for the subject of the book was Church (specifically, Baptist) history, not secular, and the actual error made no difference at all to his argument, yet now, some twentyfour or five years later, that’s all i recall.

Thus comes the real joy of reading articles on Wikipedia, the on-line encyclopædia: If i come across a nasty spelling or grammatical mistake, i can correct it. Immediately. What a lovely feeling of accomplishment; what a super way to learn. And, indeed, a large number of edits that i have made to Wikipedia are corrections of such simple errors. Usually i say that i am doing a “Typofix”, which seems kinder in implication than something along the lines of “Correction of grammatical ignorance”. The latter, though, is sometimes closer to the truth!

People who ought to know better

I am annoyed on occasion by people saying or writing something that they really ought to know better than. It happened not that long ago (in the great scheme of things) listening to BBC Radio 4, usually a source of intelligent conversation ~ except when politicians are interviewed in the morning on the Today Programme ~ but not this time. I was listening to a woman talking about books and, to aid her in talking about The Screwtape Letters, she brought in a literate vicar (i believe those were her actual words, though i could be mistaken). In the process of saying that the Letters had once been one of his favourite Christian books but now was not, he mentioned that one of the things he dislikes about C.S. Lewis is the way he condemns Susan, in the Narnia books, because she likes lipstick and make-up.

Now this is just plain false, and it annoys me to hear it. I do not know if this literate vicar is misremembering, or not as literate as the presenter apparently thought, or if he and others (including Philip Pullman) whom i have read or heard making the same point are consciously and purposely misrepresenting the facts. Certainly Pullman, if none other, is intelligent enough to know the truth. That truth is, of course, quite different from what is said, and i am annoyed because this gives an incorrect idea of Lewis and Aslan and of the God who stands behind both those two, which, certainly in Pullman’s case, suits his intentions.

The truth is, clearly, that Susan has chosen to be a grown-up, which is symbolised by the cosmetics, rather than to retain the childlike faith in and desire to be close to Aslan. Peter, when asked by Tirian, who remembers that there were four children, about his sister, says, “My sister Susan...is no longer a friend of Narnia”; their cousin Eustace adds that Susan claims the others are merely “thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children”. Clearly, if one reads the text, the grown-up interests of Susan are simply a symptom of her attention and focus, which is being in this world fully, rather than the reason she is condemned.

Two or three times during the Chronicles Lewis makes it clear that Aslan does not have the power, or has chosen to limit his power, to break through someone’s unbelief: The dwarves in The Last Battle, for example, and Andrew Ketterly in The Magician’s Nephew are permitted to block out Aslan’s voice so completely that his goodness is unable to reach them. This limitation is obviously parallel with that of Jesus, who never gave up on those who didn’t believe him, but warned them about misascribing the actions of the Holy Spirit to the Evil One (Luke 11:14ff., for example).

It is important to recognise that i am not pretending that Susan is not condemned, having chosen a poorer way; i am, though, concerned that the truth be seen, that Lewis not be condemned himself, purposely or accidentally, for something he did not do. He himself passes no judgement on Susan in the narration: All the words against her are spoken by the characters in the books and, within the series’ world it is clear that she herself is responsible for her own poor choice. The fact is, just as Susan is not condemned for liking lipstick but for refusing to continue her friendship with Aslan, Lewis’s orthodox belief is that a person is not damned for doing evil but for turning his back on God. A subtle difference, but incredibly important.

Ah, how i love language.

Lost English

Chris Roberts

Bought this for Chen for her birthday and, naturally enough, read it! It is different from the other books of words which have dropped out of common use in English because the words and phrases here are very much of recent vintage and loss, rather than the more usual centuries old words. Certainly, some of the entries i’ve read here i have used within my life, indeed, some of them i’m not sure i wouldn’t still use (which may speak more to my innate conservatism than anything else!), such as “Heath Robinson”, “blotting paper”, or “pell-mell”, for example. The book is nicely written, with good language (definitely necessary in a book about language) well controlled. In fact, the only real complaint i have about it is one i have run across previously, though i’m not sure if i have expressed mine aggravation in any of these reviews: Certain publishers (for it is a publisher stupidity, not anything to do with the author) seem to get mixed up between the “1” key and the capital “I” when writing dates, so here, in a book which frequently uses dates, i was often annoyed by things like this ~ “the late I950s” or “from I972 to I985” ~ which look really idiotic. Small point, but very annoying in terms of disturbing the flow of reading.

Curiously, just as i post this, i have read a review of this book on Library Thing (or Librarything ~ i refuse to follow the ridiculous trend of putting capital letters in the middle of words), and the person who wrote it was rather less appreciative of the book than i. And they claim to be an English expert. I'm a little disappointed ~ in myself or them? Not sure!