Ilya really worked well in this episode. He almost held his own with Napoleon. Of course, it helped that they were both being duped by a far more devious mind, or even two far more devious minds, but it's still nice to see him get his due. Oh, what devious webs these spy masters weave. Actually, maybe there were three far more devious minds, but who can keep count in a spy show?
In 'The Deadly Decoy Affair', which is again a beautifully pretty episode, Napoleon and Ilya are assigned, after an off-duty altercation, to escort a decoy for a captured THRUSH bigwig to Washington, while Waverley takes the real superspy by heavily armed transport. Of course, we know who's going to get all the attention, don't we?
It's a pretty nice caper, on many levels, as our pursued dynamic duo and their prisoner become entangled with the Innocent of the week in a dress shop, unfortunate handcuffings occur and there's a cross-country chase. We even get a stop at an Amish house, and a Hitchcockian moment in passing the bound together villain and Innocent as newlyweds, but of course Napoleon uses his window lurking tendencies to good effect to keep the peace. Also in the category of Hitchcockian twists, we get a train journey which goes awry, and a blind THRUSH spymaster.
The enduring virtues of this first season of UNCLE are all on display here: Beautiful black and white photography, excellently paced and witty storytelling, a charming antagonist (or is he????), some lovely Walter Scharf jazzy music, and of course Robert Vaughn. He is the King Of Cool. Leo G Carroll could well have been the King of Cool in his earlier career, which is why he is perfectly cast as part of the regular UNCLE triumvirate. Witness, for example, the effortless Waverley karate chop and his deeply devious machinations. There should also be a special mention for Ralph Taeger as THRUSH prisoner Egon Stryker, who almost manages to out-cool Robert Vaughn, and another to the blind THRUSH spy hunter co-ordinating their chase. This episode is definitely recommended. I suppose the Innocent of the week is a bit bland, to make a negative.
We're well into our closing straight on 'The Man From UNCLE'. Next, 'The Secret Sceptre Affair', if all goes well.
O.
Thursday, 9 August 2018
Tuesday, 7 August 2018
Television: 'The West Wing: Inauguration - Over There' (2003) (Episode 4x14)
This is a joyous episode of 'The West Wing', as if Aaron Sorkin had finally put all the baggage of the election storyline in the past, and focussed on just making the best half-season of television possible before his departure. All the favourite supporting characters are pulled back in, Bartlet is indeed allowed to be Bartlet, Josh and Donna are getting lots of screen time, and my favourite character of Will Bailey is here, punching above his weight for just half a season and putting the departed Sam Seaborn into an almost instant forgotten limbo. Sam who? Rob Lowe who? It's Joshua Malina all the way to the end now, people! It must have been nice to not have Rob Lowe (reportedly) agitating for more screen time constantly. Oh, and Danny and Zoey are back too. It's almost as if season one is picking up all over again.
One of the continuing natural storylines of the series was that of Bartlet allowing himself to do the right thing, despite a lifetime of holding himself in due to the restrictions of his offices and of looking to the future. That was all the limitation we ever really needed in the show, with the rotten MS storyline being an extremely forced method to make re-election look like something less than an absolutely certainty. The daddy issues hampering him in the campaign a bit better, though. Here, we get the ultimate version of the Bartlet dilemma, where the standard policy of only intervening in overseas conflicts when Americans are endangered finally comes to a crunch, and needling from the newly arrived Will and some influencing from Laurel and Hardy finally push him into following his conscience. Thus, we get the best of Bartlet and the best of Will, against the backdrop of an inauguration and several balls, concluding in the formalization of Will's continuing role in the West Wing. It's classical, and there can never be too much of Stan and Ollie.
In other parts of the episode, we get things for absolutely everyone to do. CJ gets to bounce off of the returned Danny, Danny gets to bounce off absolutely everyone delightfully when he's in the party to get a wrongfully shamed Donna out of her apartment and into the balls, Toby and Josh get several wonderful moments of just hanging around and being brilliant, and Charlie gets to assert his love for Zoey Bartlet before realising the battle ahead of him. Everyone gets something to do. Everyone! Well, everyone except Sam Seaborn, who is inexplicably absent and promoted to non-existence at the end.
Ultimately, this could be analysed to death, but the secret to the wonder of this episode is that it's plainly joyous, and increasingly so as the episode goes on. The right thing was going to be done, we all knew it was going be done, and then it was. Tears of joy were shed. Brilliant, and if you weren't already in love with Donna, then here is occasion eighty-four for that to happen. All hail Janel Moloney.
O.
One of the continuing natural storylines of the series was that of Bartlet allowing himself to do the right thing, despite a lifetime of holding himself in due to the restrictions of his offices and of looking to the future. That was all the limitation we ever really needed in the show, with the rotten MS storyline being an extremely forced method to make re-election look like something less than an absolutely certainty. The daddy issues hampering him in the campaign a bit better, though. Here, we get the ultimate version of the Bartlet dilemma, where the standard policy of only intervening in overseas conflicts when Americans are endangered finally comes to a crunch, and needling from the newly arrived Will and some influencing from Laurel and Hardy finally push him into following his conscience. Thus, we get the best of Bartlet and the best of Will, against the backdrop of an inauguration and several balls, concluding in the formalization of Will's continuing role in the West Wing. It's classical, and there can never be too much of Stan and Ollie.
In other parts of the episode, we get things for absolutely everyone to do. CJ gets to bounce off of the returned Danny, Danny gets to bounce off absolutely everyone delightfully when he's in the party to get a wrongfully shamed Donna out of her apartment and into the balls, Toby and Josh get several wonderful moments of just hanging around and being brilliant, and Charlie gets to assert his love for Zoey Bartlet before realising the battle ahead of him. Everyone gets something to do. Everyone! Well, everyone except Sam Seaborn, who is inexplicably absent and promoted to non-existence at the end.
Ultimately, this could be analysed to death, but the secret to the wonder of this episode is that it's plainly joyous, and increasingly so as the episode goes on. The right thing was going to be done, we all knew it was going be done, and then it was. Tears of joy were shed. Brilliant, and if you weren't already in love with Donna, then here is occasion eighty-four for that to happen. All hail Janel Moloney.
O.
Sunday, 5 August 2018
Book: 'The Black Spectacles' a.k.a. 'The Problem Of The Green Capsule' (1939) by John Dickson Carr
These earlier John Dickson Carr novels from the 1930s really seem to hit a specific button that works with me. The prose is denser, there is more detail, there is a greater tendency to just go off on dialogue tangents, and everything is just a tinge funnier. Ah, 'twas a grand time in the world of mystery writing. On this occasion, in the tenth novel of the Gideon Fell series, an Inspector Elliott (apparently featured in the previous novel) is sent to investigate the goings on and repercussions of a long cold poisoning incident in the village of Sodbury, but arrives to discover a new and even more mysterious murder. Most unfortunately, all the suspects in the murder of Marcus Chesney were witnesses to the event, and one of them is the woman that Elliott loves. Is that a stretch too far, to have the detective be in love with the very definitely prime suspect? In this case, it mostly works.
It's a grand mystery, with lots of minor twists and turns, and one whole character who is a literal red herring, in that we never see him at all! Is that a spoiler? No, of course not. In fact, you could argue that there are two such characters, although that might not really make sense at all. I blame John Dickson Carr for all this foolishness. What an insanely clever writer he was.
One of the games in any Gideon Fell novel is wondering just when the verbose and titanic genius is going to make his entrance. In this case, he doesn't appear until the end of about the first third, and has to be recruited from a spa town after being mentioned at the beginning of the story. He almost gets to give a lecture in the style of that famous chapter from the masterpiece 'The Hollow Man', but it is averted, and he seems to come to grips with the case pretty quickly. The know it all! Fell is actually very diplomatic in this one, withholding information for the inspector's sake, the prime suspect's sake and even just for dramatic effect. The critical twists are pretty good this time, with one being provided by the dead man himself, which will be an inexplicable lure to a reader yet to get through 'The Black Spectacles'.
There hasn't been much on the plot of the novel here, has there? It's partly intentional, as talking about the story of an 'impossible mystery' is definitely not a helpful thing to do. The reveal is very nice, and is best not even approached. It's better to talk about the inexplicable opening in Italy instead.
Thank goodness for John Dickson Carr.
O.
It's a grand mystery, with lots of minor twists and turns, and one whole character who is a literal red herring, in that we never see him at all! Is that a spoiler? No, of course not. In fact, you could argue that there are two such characters, although that might not really make sense at all. I blame John Dickson Carr for all this foolishness. What an insanely clever writer he was.
One of the games in any Gideon Fell novel is wondering just when the verbose and titanic genius is going to make his entrance. In this case, he doesn't appear until the end of about the first third, and has to be recruited from a spa town after being mentioned at the beginning of the story. He almost gets to give a lecture in the style of that famous chapter from the masterpiece 'The Hollow Man', but it is averted, and he seems to come to grips with the case pretty quickly. The know it all! Fell is actually very diplomatic in this one, withholding information for the inspector's sake, the prime suspect's sake and even just for dramatic effect. The critical twists are pretty good this time, with one being provided by the dead man himself, which will be an inexplicable lure to a reader yet to get through 'The Black Spectacles'.
There hasn't been much on the plot of the novel here, has there? It's partly intentional, as talking about the story of an 'impossible mystery' is definitely not a helpful thing to do. The reveal is very nice, and is best not even approached. It's better to talk about the inexplicable opening in Italy instead.
Thank goodness for John Dickson Carr.
O.
Monday, 16 July 2018
Book: 'The Worm Ouroboros' (1922) by Eric Rucker Eddison
This is the very definition of epic, and not just because I read it over two periods separated by years! To be accurate, the second time was a complete restart, but let's not quibble. 'The Work Ouroboros' is a classical exercise in writing a one volume, self-contained, stand-alone fantasy. It was also apparently based on the childhood stories invented by Eric Rucker Eddison, an author now mostly buried in obscurity. In fact, my purchase was motivated almost entirely by a mention of this novel in relation to David Eddings, one of my early favourite fantasy authors, and not from any popular repute. 'Ouroboros' is more epic than most other fantasy or science fiction novels I've ever read, but at the cost of being horribly hard to get into due to a necessary acclimatization to the prose style. You're going to need some true reading skills and patience at the outset of this one, before it all snaps into place! (This was even harder in my case due to the awful optical character recognition and typesetting used in my copy. Diabolically bad. Must get a different edition.)
It's a marathon novel, covering the epic conflict over many years between the peoples known as the Witches and the Demons of the world Mercury. They aren't actually witches or demons, nor are the other people really ghouls, goblins or pixies. They're all just arbitrary names, as is Mercury, which bears no importance to the narrative. Yes, the demons are mentioned to have horns once, but it's quickly forgotten, as is the entire gimmick of the opening, where a man called Blessington is transported in spirit to a birthday celebration for the rulers of the Witches, our heroes, as part of an astral jaunt. One chapter for Blessington, and then gone. Perhaps he imagined the horns?
The conflict truly is a long and majestic one, with many twists and turns, and is mainly between the triumvirate (technically a tetrarchy, but one is missing for most of the novel) of Demon Lords, and the reincarnating dark king Gorice of the Witches. There be dark mystical arts at play, a grand quest, desperate contests between generals, a time-lost queen banished to the edge of the world, court intrigues and one of the most ambiguous and twisty protagonists in the world of adventures in the form of Lord Gro, the goblin of shifting loyalties. Gro is possibly the most interesting of everyone in the work, as his changes are extremely well motivated. He's just a thwarted romantic, really! We never really address the waste of lives inherent to all the battles and conflicts, but this is not that kind of novel to begin with, and our modern judgement of military conflict is not in tune with any other era's in any way.
This was extremely enjoyable, after the settling in period. The only aspects that I really dislike in retrospect are the prologue and the epilogue. The prologue establishes the previously mentioned novelty which is swiftly thrown away, while the epilogue effectively undoes the main thrust of the whole narrative in a bid to have the novel literally become repeating, instead of just having the evil King be the representation of recursion in fiction. However, these are small things to worry about in reality. 'Ouroboros' was a grand exercise, and it would be nice to go on to the Eddison trilogy that awaits in the future.
Wow. Completely out of the blue, a classic.
O.
It's a marathon novel, covering the epic conflict over many years between the peoples known as the Witches and the Demons of the world Mercury. They aren't actually witches or demons, nor are the other people really ghouls, goblins or pixies. They're all just arbitrary names, as is Mercury, which bears no importance to the narrative. Yes, the demons are mentioned to have horns once, but it's quickly forgotten, as is the entire gimmick of the opening, where a man called Blessington is transported in spirit to a birthday celebration for the rulers of the Witches, our heroes, as part of an astral jaunt. One chapter for Blessington, and then gone. Perhaps he imagined the horns?
The conflict truly is a long and majestic one, with many twists and turns, and is mainly between the triumvirate (technically a tetrarchy, but one is missing for most of the novel) of Demon Lords, and the reincarnating dark king Gorice of the Witches. There be dark mystical arts at play, a grand quest, desperate contests between generals, a time-lost queen banished to the edge of the world, court intrigues and one of the most ambiguous and twisty protagonists in the world of adventures in the form of Lord Gro, the goblin of shifting loyalties. Gro is possibly the most interesting of everyone in the work, as his changes are extremely well motivated. He's just a thwarted romantic, really! We never really address the waste of lives inherent to all the battles and conflicts, but this is not that kind of novel to begin with, and our modern judgement of military conflict is not in tune with any other era's in any way.
This was extremely enjoyable, after the settling in period. The only aspects that I really dislike in retrospect are the prologue and the epilogue. The prologue establishes the previously mentioned novelty which is swiftly thrown away, while the epilogue effectively undoes the main thrust of the whole narrative in a bid to have the novel literally become repeating, instead of just having the evil King be the representation of recursion in fiction. However, these are small things to worry about in reality. 'Ouroboros' was a grand exercise, and it would be nice to go on to the Eddison trilogy that awaits in the future.
Wow. Completely out of the blue, a classic.
O.
Sunday, 8 July 2018
Television: 'The Man From UNCLE: The Fiddlesticks Affair' (1965) (Aired 1x16, Produced 1x18)
We're passing over 'The Terbuf Affair', which introduced some back story and an old flame for Napoleon, but was mostly unmemorable. Instead, it's time for a good old fashioned heist movie as Solo and Kuryakin aim to break into a THRUSH vault deep beneath a European casino and burn up a large portion of that villainous organisation's budget. Yes, it's time for our chaps to get proactive! What a lovely change of pace it is.
We have two variations on the 'innocent of the week' in this instance, one real and one counterfeit. The counterfeit innocent is a rascally bank robber (played by Dan O'Herlihy from 'The Last Starfighter') that Napoleon and Ilya coerce into helping them do the break-in, but who is really allied with THRUSH, while the true one is a bored American girl (Marlyn Mason) who Solo woos into acting as a diversion. Of course he wooed her. Ilya gets all the awful jobs, like any good sidekick, and Napoleon gets all the wooing and the the glamorous end of the heist. On the other hand, Solo does almost get gassed to death, so maybe the distribution isn't so unfair after all.
The real guest star to watch out for this time is Ken Murray, playing the casino owner, and THRUSH kingpin, Anton Korbel. Murray was a showman, and really took over any scene he was in to great effect just by waving his cigar around. It's a shame that he didn't get a bigger showdown with the UNCLE agents, but we can't have everything. The last few episodes have put a much darker edge on the characters of Solo and Kuryakin; they really are very ruthless and sometimes darkly manipulative. They really do push O'Herlihy's bank cracker onto their side by the most nefarious of extortions, and the thrill-seeking lady is soon trying to sell them on her own ideas for capers at the end. She really was pretty brave to go through with that tantrum. Oh, the corrupting influence, the diabolical tendencies! Is UNCLE really the bad organisation after all???
It's really a very enjoyable episode, although it lacks the lightness of touch of the very best ones. It's not exactly heavy-handed, by any means, but not the super-stylish caper we've seen in other instalments. It's probably inevitable, after such a strong (and presumably very expensive) start to the season, and with so many episodes still to come, that the strain would begin to tell. It's still a good episode, despite this nit-picking. What an elaborate vault setup that casino had!
Alas, we have only eleven episodes left. What a shame! What fun this is!
Oliver.
We have two variations on the 'innocent of the week' in this instance, one real and one counterfeit. The counterfeit innocent is a rascally bank robber (played by Dan O'Herlihy from 'The Last Starfighter') that Napoleon and Ilya coerce into helping them do the break-in, but who is really allied with THRUSH, while the true one is a bored American girl (Marlyn Mason) who Solo woos into acting as a diversion. Of course he wooed her. Ilya gets all the awful jobs, like any good sidekick, and Napoleon gets all the wooing and the the glamorous end of the heist. On the other hand, Solo does almost get gassed to death, so maybe the distribution isn't so unfair after all.
The real guest star to watch out for this time is Ken Murray, playing the casino owner, and THRUSH kingpin, Anton Korbel. Murray was a showman, and really took over any scene he was in to great effect just by waving his cigar around. It's a shame that he didn't get a bigger showdown with the UNCLE agents, but we can't have everything. The last few episodes have put a much darker edge on the characters of Solo and Kuryakin; they really are very ruthless and sometimes darkly manipulative. They really do push O'Herlihy's bank cracker onto their side by the most nefarious of extortions, and the thrill-seeking lady is soon trying to sell them on her own ideas for capers at the end. She really was pretty brave to go through with that tantrum. Oh, the corrupting influence, the diabolical tendencies! Is UNCLE really the bad organisation after all???
It's really a very enjoyable episode, although it lacks the lightness of touch of the very best ones. It's not exactly heavy-handed, by any means, but not the super-stylish caper we've seen in other instalments. It's probably inevitable, after such a strong (and presumably very expensive) start to the season, and with so many episodes still to come, that the strain would begin to tell. It's still a good episode, despite this nit-picking. What an elaborate vault setup that casino had!
Alas, we have only eleven episodes left. What a shame! What fun this is!
Oliver.
Thursday, 5 July 2018
The Literary Reflection, XII
It is once again time to break weblog silence and blabber a little about some of the things read recently, which won't be getting posts of their own. And, here we go, with lots and lots of 'Lovejoy' in the mix...
'The Judas Pair' (1977) (Lovejoy) by Jonathan Gash
The rogue-ish Lovejoy makes his debut here, with so many typos in the edition that I read that I almost went mad! Is there no proofreading in the world? Whole missing words or some needing to be entirely replaced is substandard indeed. However, it's still a brilliant little gem, although the attitude towards women is a little misleading at times. Yes, he's saying some pretty sexist things in the first person narrative, but his actions are actually saying something contrary. Or are they? He does bash that woman at the beginning, and shoves her in the bathroom. I've sort of lost track. Lovejoy is commonly described as 'rogueish' for a reason. I've already done it myself! 'The Judas Pair' is a great antiques-laden thriller, despite the typesetting woes, and the narrative is both compelling and funny. It is very short, though, and comparatively slight, prompting inclusion here, rather than in its own post. This could be a very good sequence of novels, although I don't know how Gash is going to continue any kind of status quo after such destruction and mayhem...
'Gold From Gemini' (1978) (Lovejoy) by Jonathan Gash
... but maybe he didn't even try. What happened to continuity? The cottage is back, the local population is changed, with many replacements? Lovejoy has a married lover called Janie, and a dimwit apprentice called Algernon? Only Tinker and a couple of supporting characters, one of whom is murdered, support this not being a restart. Perhaps it's from earlier in the life of Lovejoy? Maybe he's broke because he rebuilt his cottage? What is going on? He's not quite so violent this time around, and the mystery is very nice. An unknown master painter (and forger) supposedly knew where some ancient Roman gold was hidden on the Isle of Man, but was murdered. Lovejoy, followed by his unwanted allies Janie and Algernon, end up on the Isle, caught up in a confrontation with a murderer and some scenic wanderings. This one might be our closest approach to the television version of 'Lovejoy', with Janie and Algernon being reasonably close to the screen Janie and Eric. Tinker is still far too much a human wreckage though. The worry is that this second book has established a formula, being structured similarly to 'The Judas Pair'. Is every novel going to be essentially the same? Will he ever stop trashing women in his first person narrative? Is he being serious?
'The Vulcan Academy Murders' (1984) (Star Trek) by Jean Lorrah
This is a nice little 'Star Trek' novel, which paints in a lot of the Spock/Sarek/Amanda backstory and the events that transpired after 'Journey To Babel'. Of course, every trip to Vulcan includes a murder mystery, and experimental science, doesn't it? I think it's a rule. Sadly, the culprit is pretty well telegraphed here, but it all works well as a further exploration of Spock's wacky homeworld, which very much goes against the uniformly desert-ravaged screen version. One episode in a desert region does not mean the whole planet is a sandy hole, screen writers! It is nice to get Kirk, McCoy and Spock in a non-mission situation for once.
'The Grail Tree' (1979) (Lovejoy) by Jonathan Gash
And now, with the third 'Lovejoy' novel, we reach a crossroads. The formula is deeply ingrained at this point, as seen in the first two novels outlined above. Is anything going to change, or is going to be same thing but different details each time? Yes, it's different to have a supposed Holy Grail as the object this time, and a showdown in a local museum is unique, but the mysteriously rotating characters of the local antiques trade are becoming a bit vexing. What happened to X and Y, and how did T suddenly become a well established character? Putting all that aside, it's a very well executed book, and Lovejoy's new amorous apprentice Lydia is kind of interesting. Will she back next time, though, or is she just another phantom, due to mysteriously disappear next time? How could she? Her final bargain is rather pivotal! Only time will tell. Maybe one more novel in the series wouldn't be a big stretch, but if Lovejoy ends up pursuing vengeance for the death of someone he just met again, we may have to reassess...
'The Stainless Steel Rat Saves The World' (1972) by Harry Harrison
In this, the second of the 'Stainless Steel Rat' books, we get time travel, continuity loops, pulpy thrills, piles of heists, and loads of laughs. It's a solid little mix, reminiscent of a cross between Dortmunder and Jasper Fforde. It's a shame that it's so slight, though, as it feels like there is a seed of something far more monumental in this series to date. In 'Saves The World', Slippery Jim is sent back in time from a disintegrating future to stop the meddlers who are changing history. Does he succeed in restoring the future and his wife and kids? Does it only take one jaunt through time? Just who is the mysterious villain known only as 'He'? Why are so many questions being asked? You might have to read to find out. This is better written than the first novel in the sequence, but not quite so novel. On the other hand, there are lots of things in 'Saves The World' that you just won't find in other sequences. The 'drugs as tools' aspect is a bit weirder now than it was in the early 1970s, though. Oh well, it is what it was. It's possible that is a setup for a really good third entry, so let's see what happens.
O.
'The Judas Pair' (1977) (Lovejoy) by Jonathan Gash
The rogue-ish Lovejoy makes his debut here, with so many typos in the edition that I read that I almost went mad! Is there no proofreading in the world? Whole missing words or some needing to be entirely replaced is substandard indeed. However, it's still a brilliant little gem, although the attitude towards women is a little misleading at times. Yes, he's saying some pretty sexist things in the first person narrative, but his actions are actually saying something contrary. Or are they? He does bash that woman at the beginning, and shoves her in the bathroom. I've sort of lost track. Lovejoy is commonly described as 'rogueish' for a reason. I've already done it myself! 'The Judas Pair' is a great antiques-laden thriller, despite the typesetting woes, and the narrative is both compelling and funny. It is very short, though, and comparatively slight, prompting inclusion here, rather than in its own post. This could be a very good sequence of novels, although I don't know how Gash is going to continue any kind of status quo after such destruction and mayhem...
'Gold From Gemini' (1978) (Lovejoy) by Jonathan Gash
... but maybe he didn't even try. What happened to continuity? The cottage is back, the local population is changed, with many replacements? Lovejoy has a married lover called Janie, and a dimwit apprentice called Algernon? Only Tinker and a couple of supporting characters, one of whom is murdered, support this not being a restart. Perhaps it's from earlier in the life of Lovejoy? Maybe he's broke because he rebuilt his cottage? What is going on? He's not quite so violent this time around, and the mystery is very nice. An unknown master painter (and forger) supposedly knew where some ancient Roman gold was hidden on the Isle of Man, but was murdered. Lovejoy, followed by his unwanted allies Janie and Algernon, end up on the Isle, caught up in a confrontation with a murderer and some scenic wanderings. This one might be our closest approach to the television version of 'Lovejoy', with Janie and Algernon being reasonably close to the screen Janie and Eric. Tinker is still far too much a human wreckage though. The worry is that this second book has established a formula, being structured similarly to 'The Judas Pair'. Is every novel going to be essentially the same? Will he ever stop trashing women in his first person narrative? Is he being serious?
'The Vulcan Academy Murders' (1984) (Star Trek) by Jean Lorrah
This is a nice little 'Star Trek' novel, which paints in a lot of the Spock/Sarek/Amanda backstory and the events that transpired after 'Journey To Babel'. Of course, every trip to Vulcan includes a murder mystery, and experimental science, doesn't it? I think it's a rule. Sadly, the culprit is pretty well telegraphed here, but it all works well as a further exploration of Spock's wacky homeworld, which very much goes against the uniformly desert-ravaged screen version. One episode in a desert region does not mean the whole planet is a sandy hole, screen writers! It is nice to get Kirk, McCoy and Spock in a non-mission situation for once.
'The Grail Tree' (1979) (Lovejoy) by Jonathan Gash
And now, with the third 'Lovejoy' novel, we reach a crossroads. The formula is deeply ingrained at this point, as seen in the first two novels outlined above. Is anything going to change, or is going to be same thing but different details each time? Yes, it's different to have a supposed Holy Grail as the object this time, and a showdown in a local museum is unique, but the mysteriously rotating characters of the local antiques trade are becoming a bit vexing. What happened to X and Y, and how did T suddenly become a well established character? Putting all that aside, it's a very well executed book, and Lovejoy's new amorous apprentice Lydia is kind of interesting. Will she back next time, though, or is she just another phantom, due to mysteriously disappear next time? How could she? Her final bargain is rather pivotal! Only time will tell. Maybe one more novel in the series wouldn't be a big stretch, but if Lovejoy ends up pursuing vengeance for the death of someone he just met again, we may have to reassess...
'The Stainless Steel Rat Saves The World' (1972) by Harry Harrison
In this, the second of the 'Stainless Steel Rat' books, we get time travel, continuity loops, pulpy thrills, piles of heists, and loads of laughs. It's a solid little mix, reminiscent of a cross between Dortmunder and Jasper Fforde. It's a shame that it's so slight, though, as it feels like there is a seed of something far more monumental in this series to date. In 'Saves The World', Slippery Jim is sent back in time from a disintegrating future to stop the meddlers who are changing history. Does he succeed in restoring the future and his wife and kids? Does it only take one jaunt through time? Just who is the mysterious villain known only as 'He'? Why are so many questions being asked? You might have to read to find out. This is better written than the first novel in the sequence, but not quite so novel. On the other hand, there are lots of things in 'Saves The World' that you just won't find in other sequences. The 'drugs as tools' aspect is a bit weirder now than it was in the early 1970s, though. Oh well, it is what it was. It's possible that is a setup for a really good third entry, so let's see what happens.
O.
Thursday, 14 June 2018
Book: 'The Seedling Stars' (1957) by James Blish
Suppose, for a moment, that the consensus view on moving out into the stars was a little wonky, and had been manipulated by vested interests bent on making money through one specific methodology. (Where have we heard something like that before?) Suppose that there were another ultimately cheaper but more contentious strategy for populating less than suitable worlds by something other than terraforming. What if we changed the people instead of the planets, and then left them to proliferate on their own, seedlings of new adapted humanities across the galaxy? How does that sound? Pretty weird? Yes!
'The Seedling Stars' is a fix-up of three connected short stories and an abbreviated epilogue, concerning the origins of adaptation and some case examples of adapted people on other worlds. It's an amazing work of great scope, while still being remarkably adventurous in its construction. It's important to do both: to be both an enjoyable story and one which pushes at interesting ideas. Blish has such a track record with 'Cities In Flight' and 'A Case Of Conscience', and this does not disappoint that tradition, adding in a discussion of how much humans can be adapted before they stop being humans. Oh, and of course, the continued prejudices of humanity. Racial differences will be of little import when there are gilled amphiboid humans, hairy tree-dwelling humans, and cold-blooded humans who run on entirely different kinds of blood to exist on the Moon or the moons of Jupiter!
Why think small when you can adapt humans to other worlds instead of other worlds to humans? There could giants as well as people only an inch tall. There could be water dwellers and people who live on clouds, tree climbers in addition to hole diggers, and even people who live in the gaps between dimensions and in black holes. Would it be the right thing to do, though? In 2018, that answer is still just as fuzzy as it has ever been.
There are three stories: 'The Seeding Program', 'The Thing In The Attic', and 'Surface Tension', the last of which is the most famous and involves a crashed spaceship seeding a puddle with some adapted people based on the genetic material of the doomed and few remaining crewmembers. They're the most alien people of the three sets considered, being less than an inch tall, sporulating and therefore hibernating in shells during the Winter, dwelling in the water, and having lost all of their heritage in the process. For them, life is all about beating down the natural predators, and eventually reaching and exploring the other 'worlds' of different puddles in the neighbourhood. Space to them is air and less filtered sunshine. It's fascinating, but I prefer 'The Thing In The Attic', with it's tree people and a band of un-Orthodox exiles rediscovering life on the surface. Finally, the first story is much closer to being an origin tale for the set, revolving around yet another dystopian future Earth, but it has its moments.
Toss the coin. Shall we change planets or ourselves?
O.
'The Seedling Stars' is a fix-up of three connected short stories and an abbreviated epilogue, concerning the origins of adaptation and some case examples of adapted people on other worlds. It's an amazing work of great scope, while still being remarkably adventurous in its construction. It's important to do both: to be both an enjoyable story and one which pushes at interesting ideas. Blish has such a track record with 'Cities In Flight' and 'A Case Of Conscience', and this does not disappoint that tradition, adding in a discussion of how much humans can be adapted before they stop being humans. Oh, and of course, the continued prejudices of humanity. Racial differences will be of little import when there are gilled amphiboid humans, hairy tree-dwelling humans, and cold-blooded humans who run on entirely different kinds of blood to exist on the Moon or the moons of Jupiter!
Why think small when you can adapt humans to other worlds instead of other worlds to humans? There could giants as well as people only an inch tall. There could be water dwellers and people who live on clouds, tree climbers in addition to hole diggers, and even people who live in the gaps between dimensions and in black holes. Would it be the right thing to do, though? In 2018, that answer is still just as fuzzy as it has ever been.
There are three stories: 'The Seeding Program', 'The Thing In The Attic', and 'Surface Tension', the last of which is the most famous and involves a crashed spaceship seeding a puddle with some adapted people based on the genetic material of the doomed and few remaining crewmembers. They're the most alien people of the three sets considered, being less than an inch tall, sporulating and therefore hibernating in shells during the Winter, dwelling in the water, and having lost all of their heritage in the process. For them, life is all about beating down the natural predators, and eventually reaching and exploring the other 'worlds' of different puddles in the neighbourhood. Space to them is air and less filtered sunshine. It's fascinating, but I prefer 'The Thing In The Attic', with it's tree people and a band of un-Orthodox exiles rediscovering life on the surface. Finally, the first story is much closer to being an origin tale for the set, revolving around yet another dystopian future Earth, but it has its moments.
Toss the coin. Shall we change planets or ourselves?
O.
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