Well, we made it through. There were a lot more Quirky Muffins in 2017 than there were in 2018, and that is because 2018 was what we call a Bad Year. There were multiple health scares (the complications of which still continue), lots of fatigue and exhaustion, some problems with concentration, a falling off in the tutoring business and a great leaning towards reading nice things away from the computer. However, 2018 is done! Oh yes! And we're into the good quarter of a new year, where the days are lengthening and we are still on Real Time. As a result, there are plans to get this blog onto a more even footing. Nothing can be guaranteed, but the book reviews and potted insights will hopefully continue, and there might be an extra bonus from time to time.
The major problem, however, is going to be boosting the work side of life and reconnecting with the wider world in person instead of through the virtual interface that is the Internet. Having to rest and convalesce is tiring in itself, and limits the extent to which you can interact with the outside world. That's the lighter side of being sick, and it's still no holiday. However, things can only get better!
The Quirky Muffin will return, presumably with book-related content, some chatter on bits of television and film, miscellaneous rambling, and whatever else comes to mind. The stories have probably halted, though. That mindset has been shocked into insensibility, and we will have to wait and see if it can be reclaimed. It might be better diverted into writing stories for planned publication instead, if that is even possible. What am I talking about? Everything is possible. Behold, for it is 2019, the new Time Of Opportunity, and the year that sees my fortieth birthday. Anything could happen!
O.
PS Happy New Year!
Tuesday, 1 January 2019
Wednesday, 26 December 2018
Book: 'The Voyage Of The Beagle' (1839) by Charles Darwin
Finally, it is finished. The odyssey is completed, which through various lengthy interruptions and other lapses has taken literal years to be read in its entirety. The voyage is over, and Darwin showed as much relief at the conclusion as the reader would, as it is a lengthy journal, and one in which a lot of attention is paid to detail. There is a lot of detail, shown somewhat indiscriminately at times, to politics or social geography and the natural world. For Darwin, the journey lasted many years, and consumed a significant portion of his life.
The value of 'The Voyage Of The Beagle' is perhaps more valuable for its picture of a world long gone than for its contribution to natural history. We get snapshots of lots of the more remote cultures of the early nineteenth century and of the world before industrialisation. At least, it was before the grand bulk industrialisation that created the modern world. There is a certain honesty in how Darwin views the primitive peoples, sometimes agreeable and sometimes slightly distasteful, but always honest. In a world where we are almost gagged by peer pressure against saying anything honestly, that is more interesting than you might imagine.
The famous interlude in the Galapagos Islands takes place far past the mid-point of the narrative, on the far side of South America, where the bulk of the journal's entries take place. If you had to choose to describe the main locale, it would indeed be South America (and its islands), followed by Australia and Tazmania. The Galapagos Islands form a small part indeed. Darwin did quite a lot of hiking in the interiors, spent a lot of time on horses, completely ignored the sea travel in his published notes, and didn't pay as much attention to the wildlife as I thought he would. He also spared time for geology, landscape and longer-term processes.
There are only very occasional flashes of what Darwin would later come to be known for in 'The Voyage Of The Beagle', mainly in pursuing theories on incremental geological changes. If you're looking for a mass of evolutionary theory, then this is not the book to read, but if you're looking for a historical travel-log then this might be for you. Yes, there are some tedious episodes, especially in the earlier phases of the book, but it is worth the effort. Is it hypocritical to say that after stopping so many times? Uh-oh. There could be a problem here. The Quirky Muffin might implode from the contradictory pressure.
Okay, one note: This is definitely a book you need to work at. It is very prone to being put down and then left for a while. Bear that in mind. Darwin could string a few sentences together with skill.
O.
The value of 'The Voyage Of The Beagle' is perhaps more valuable for its picture of a world long gone than for its contribution to natural history. We get snapshots of lots of the more remote cultures of the early nineteenth century and of the world before industrialisation. At least, it was before the grand bulk industrialisation that created the modern world. There is a certain honesty in how Darwin views the primitive peoples, sometimes agreeable and sometimes slightly distasteful, but always honest. In a world where we are almost gagged by peer pressure against saying anything honestly, that is more interesting than you might imagine.
The famous interlude in the Galapagos Islands takes place far past the mid-point of the narrative, on the far side of South America, where the bulk of the journal's entries take place. If you had to choose to describe the main locale, it would indeed be South America (and its islands), followed by Australia and Tazmania. The Galapagos Islands form a small part indeed. Darwin did quite a lot of hiking in the interiors, spent a lot of time on horses, completely ignored the sea travel in his published notes, and didn't pay as much attention to the wildlife as I thought he would. He also spared time for geology, landscape and longer-term processes.
There are only very occasional flashes of what Darwin would later come to be known for in 'The Voyage Of The Beagle', mainly in pursuing theories on incremental geological changes. If you're looking for a mass of evolutionary theory, then this is not the book to read, but if you're looking for a historical travel-log then this might be for you. Yes, there are some tedious episodes, especially in the earlier phases of the book, but it is worth the effort. Is it hypocritical to say that after stopping so many times? Uh-oh. There could be a problem here. The Quirky Muffin might implode from the contradictory pressure.
Okay, one note: This is definitely a book you need to work at. It is very prone to being put down and then left for a while. Bear that in mind. Darwin could string a few sentences together with skill.
O.
Saturday, 15 December 2018
Books: A Trio Of Verne Novels
As a prelude to the next book-related post, which will be another official addition to Project Catch-Up, it is now time to jabber on about the three Jules Verne novels re-read during this awful Year Of Sickness. This year is the fiftieth anniversary of Apollo 8, the first manned trip to lunar orbit, and next year will be the fiftieth anniversary of Apollo 11, the actual first Moon landing. Apollo 10 and Apollo 12 also flew in 1969. It was a big year, but Jules Verne wrote about such a voyage more than a hundred years earlier. A whole century earlier, when steam-powered locomotion was the grand innovation. Anyway, let's get on to Mr Verne.
'Journey To The Centre Of The Earth' (1864) by Jules Verne
What would happen if you found an ancient message from a noted alchemist, telling you that it was possible to travel down to the centre of the Earth? What would you do? That's the core of this, my favourite and most read Verne novel. It's a grand and old fashioned adventure, which starts with a puzzle, continues with a grand journey, and never features an antagonist. It's all about the journey, the legacy of the alchemist Arne Saknussen, geology, and the exploration of a nice 'what if?'. What if the world didn't have a hot core, and instead featured a great subterranean lake, fringed with primitive lands and inhabited by prehistoric beasties? Well, it's mostly geology, with one quite harrowing sequence when our protagonist Axel is separated from the party and gets trapped in the dark. Being lost without light in a cave hundreds of miles from the world we know is one of the most horrific things I've ever read.
'Journey To The Centre Of The Earth' is a recommended read, even though I think some people would get bored by the geological references, which I find rather endearing. Verne mostly incorporated his 'scientific content' within the descriptions and prose rather than in the story or dialogue, but it works well here, for me. The puzzle at the beginning is lovely, and finding runes in an adventure story is amazing. How many times does Iceland feature in an adventure or a science-fiction story? How often does an eccentric geology professor drive the plot? It's wonderful and charming, and the ending is so daft as to be endearing.
'From The Earth To The Moon' (1865) by Jules Verne
'Round The Moon' (1870) by Jules Verne
I didn't re-read these for a long, long time. Now, after going through them a second time, it's half clear why. 'From The Earth To The Moon' is by far the better story of the two, but it is entirely about organising the great journey of the title. It's all the setup, with the final moments being the launch. 'Round The Moon' is essentially three men in a space capsule, conducting a passive survey of the Moon's geography when their landing is fouled. It's very hard to get interested in three people watching scenery through a porthole for the vast majority of the reading time. The journeying time to and from the Moon is much better though, except for some moments involving one of the dogs, which are very disturbing to my mind.
Getting back to 'From The Earth To The Moon', we find a wonderful exercise in imagination, pre-dating the Apollo program by almost exactly a century. Yes, the capsule is shot out of a gigantic cannon sunk vertically into the ground, but the genesis of the whole endeavour is fascinating and endearing. The machinations and details of how exactly it is going to work (it would kill the astronauts in the real world) is less so. Cities rise, economies are forged, political influences determine sites, industries are built up, and there are many meetings. Some of it works, but we mostly wait to see what happens to the president of the Baltimore Gun Club's great project, and whether he will come into conflict with his rival in the armory world, while being vaguely annoyed at the late introduction of the 'motivating' European character.
In contrast to 'Journey To The Centre Of The Earth', where geology is mixed in fairly well, the lunar geography and space travel mechanics is incorporated quite clumsily in 'Round The Moon', which is in principle a three-way dialogue over several days. It doesn't work as well, sadly, and does become dull for a moderately long time. Perhaps it's just me. However, a lot of the things built in to the journey itself were very prescient, foreshadowing the great events that followed a hundred years later.
Whether voyaging to the centre of the Earth or to our own natural satellite, Jules Verne was an incredible prophet of things to come. How did he do it? We haven't even covered nuclear submarines in 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea'! What a mind he must have had. He conjured it all up, or put it all together from the scientific speculation of the day.
O.
'Journey To The Centre Of The Earth' (1864) by Jules Verne
What would happen if you found an ancient message from a noted alchemist, telling you that it was possible to travel down to the centre of the Earth? What would you do? That's the core of this, my favourite and most read Verne novel. It's a grand and old fashioned adventure, which starts with a puzzle, continues with a grand journey, and never features an antagonist. It's all about the journey, the legacy of the alchemist Arne Saknussen, geology, and the exploration of a nice 'what if?'. What if the world didn't have a hot core, and instead featured a great subterranean lake, fringed with primitive lands and inhabited by prehistoric beasties? Well, it's mostly geology, with one quite harrowing sequence when our protagonist Axel is separated from the party and gets trapped in the dark. Being lost without light in a cave hundreds of miles from the world we know is one of the most horrific things I've ever read.
'Journey To The Centre Of The Earth' is a recommended read, even though I think some people would get bored by the geological references, which I find rather endearing. Verne mostly incorporated his 'scientific content' within the descriptions and prose rather than in the story or dialogue, but it works well here, for me. The puzzle at the beginning is lovely, and finding runes in an adventure story is amazing. How many times does Iceland feature in an adventure or a science-fiction story? How often does an eccentric geology professor drive the plot? It's wonderful and charming, and the ending is so daft as to be endearing.
'From The Earth To The Moon' (1865) by Jules Verne
'Round The Moon' (1870) by Jules Verne
I didn't re-read these for a long, long time. Now, after going through them a second time, it's half clear why. 'From The Earth To The Moon' is by far the better story of the two, but it is entirely about organising the great journey of the title. It's all the setup, with the final moments being the launch. 'Round The Moon' is essentially three men in a space capsule, conducting a passive survey of the Moon's geography when their landing is fouled. It's very hard to get interested in three people watching scenery through a porthole for the vast majority of the reading time. The journeying time to and from the Moon is much better though, except for some moments involving one of the dogs, which are very disturbing to my mind.
Getting back to 'From The Earth To The Moon', we find a wonderful exercise in imagination, pre-dating the Apollo program by almost exactly a century. Yes, the capsule is shot out of a gigantic cannon sunk vertically into the ground, but the genesis of the whole endeavour is fascinating and endearing. The machinations and details of how exactly it is going to work (it would kill the astronauts in the real world) is less so. Cities rise, economies are forged, political influences determine sites, industries are built up, and there are many meetings. Some of it works, but we mostly wait to see what happens to the president of the Baltimore Gun Club's great project, and whether he will come into conflict with his rival in the armory world, while being vaguely annoyed at the late introduction of the 'motivating' European character.
In contrast to 'Journey To The Centre Of The Earth', where geology is mixed in fairly well, the lunar geography and space travel mechanics is incorporated quite clumsily in 'Round The Moon', which is in principle a three-way dialogue over several days. It doesn't work as well, sadly, and does become dull for a moderately long time. Perhaps it's just me. However, a lot of the things built in to the journey itself were very prescient, foreshadowing the great events that followed a hundred years later.
Whether voyaging to the centre of the Earth or to our own natural satellite, Jules Verne was an incredible prophet of things to come. How did he do it? We haven't even covered nuclear submarines in 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea'! What a mind he must have had. He conjured it all up, or put it all together from the scientific speculation of the day.
O.
Sunday, 25 November 2018
Books: 'The Happy Return', 'A Ship Of The Line' and 'Flying Colours' (Hornblower) (1937-1938) by CS Forester
Where to begin? This is a tough one. My CS Forester knowledge was always very limited. I know that I watched the Gregory Peck 'Hornblower' movie at one point, and that 'Flying Colours' must have been read at some point as the squeamish moment of the ligatures has endured in the memory. However, everything else has faded or is connected to the ITV television mini-series, which was based on later published novels. In fact, this opening trilogy is very connected to the Peck movie's narrative. That movie needs to be watched again.
'The Happy Return', 'A Ship Of The Line' and 'Flying Colours' were published in quick succession, followed by a long interruption due to the Second World War, and can easily be considered to be a self-contained story, detached from all the other novels. Indeed, each of the three books is also quite distinct. 'The Happy Return' is an introduction and a tale of a down-on-his-luck Hornblower assigned to a mission in South America and facing countless hardships during his duties. 'A Ship Of The Line' is a great tale of Hornblower on the ascendant, and eventually going too far and sacrificing himself in his zeal to ensure a greater victory. Finally, 'Flying Colours' is a tale of the captain's ensuing imprisonment in France and the following escape and flight back to Britain. It is a very distinct trilogy indeed.
Apart from the derring do and naval adventure on display in the novels, both of which are considerable, the thrust of the Hornblower novels so far seems to be in painting a pen portrait of a deeply insecure and unconfident captain, who cuts himself off from his crew and officers in order to conceal his doubts and perceived flaws, and whose personal life on shore is tortured by self-imposed duty to an unloved wife. Hornblower is quite the tortured human being, which is one of the main differences from his space-faring successor James T Kirk, but not from his naval fiction descendant Jack Aubrey. Oh, Horatio, you do have a knack for confusion on land, don't you? And falling in love with a noble lady, too? You dopey idiot, you.
It was surprising to find, on this first official reading, just how fresh these novels were. Yes, 'Flying Colours' did drag a little, but that may just have been because it was the last of three read in a very short time. That old world is captured very well, and with as much accuracy of detail as would have been possible. Forester seems to have had a fascination with historical fiction, and life on the water. 'The African Queen' was a staggering achievement indeed. Hornblower doesn't quite live up to that one-off.
As an extended story, as a trilogy, these three novels are slightly disjointed but it does work well. 'The Happy Return' is a great and fresh maritime adventure, 'A Ship Of The Line' is a fine war story with a surprising ending, and 'Flying Colours' is an extended prison escape story, with a very sudden ending. It's a good trilogy. Well done, CS Forester. I should never have avoided you for so long. It was the ligatures that did it.
O.
'The Happy Return', 'A Ship Of The Line' and 'Flying Colours' were published in quick succession, followed by a long interruption due to the Second World War, and can easily be considered to be a self-contained story, detached from all the other novels. Indeed, each of the three books is also quite distinct. 'The Happy Return' is an introduction and a tale of a down-on-his-luck Hornblower assigned to a mission in South America and facing countless hardships during his duties. 'A Ship Of The Line' is a great tale of Hornblower on the ascendant, and eventually going too far and sacrificing himself in his zeal to ensure a greater victory. Finally, 'Flying Colours' is a tale of the captain's ensuing imprisonment in France and the following escape and flight back to Britain. It is a very distinct trilogy indeed.
Apart from the derring do and naval adventure on display in the novels, both of which are considerable, the thrust of the Hornblower novels so far seems to be in painting a pen portrait of a deeply insecure and unconfident captain, who cuts himself off from his crew and officers in order to conceal his doubts and perceived flaws, and whose personal life on shore is tortured by self-imposed duty to an unloved wife. Hornblower is quite the tortured human being, which is one of the main differences from his space-faring successor James T Kirk, but not from his naval fiction descendant Jack Aubrey. Oh, Horatio, you do have a knack for confusion on land, don't you? And falling in love with a noble lady, too? You dopey idiot, you.
It was surprising to find, on this first official reading, just how fresh these novels were. Yes, 'Flying Colours' did drag a little, but that may just have been because it was the last of three read in a very short time. That old world is captured very well, and with as much accuracy of detail as would have been possible. Forester seems to have had a fascination with historical fiction, and life on the water. 'The African Queen' was a staggering achievement indeed. Hornblower doesn't quite live up to that one-off.
As an extended story, as a trilogy, these three novels are slightly disjointed but it does work well. 'The Happy Return' is a great and fresh maritime adventure, 'A Ship Of The Line' is a fine war story with a surprising ending, and 'Flying Colours' is an extended prison escape story, with a very sudden ending. It's a good trilogy. Well done, CS Forester. I should never have avoided you for so long. It was the ligatures that did it.
O.
Sunday, 9 September 2018
Books: The Literary Reflection, XIII
Yet again, it's time to do the potted reviews of books that didn't quite make it to a full review for whatever reason. It doesn't mean that they were bad, necessarily! They might be good but without being truly noteworthy or significant.
'Spend Game' (Lovejoy) (1981) by Jonathan Gash
A grand improvement. It's not entirely clear why it's a big improvement, but my best guess would be the departure from formula and the continued effort spent in integrating the differing continuities of the first few novels as we get into this fourth episode in the 'Lovejoy' stories. On the other hand, it's a bit swearier, which counts against it. The mystery is much more mysterious, with a red herring detail that I followed down a rabbit hole, and has a nice bit of psychology making Lovejoy's situation much more perilous than any of the previous entries. Very good. Bring on some more of the series! Crikey, there should be some description of the story, perhaps? Lovejoy is drawn into a mystery sounding the death of an old army mate, literally dumped in the road in front of him, and his connections to a strange railway enigma. Yes, railways are involved, making a double hook. Ah...
'The Last Defender Of Camelot' (1980) by Roger Zelazny
This is not to be confused with the much later collection of the same name but different contents, This 'The Last Defender Of Camelot' was read over such a long period, that the earlier portions are now lost in a hazy recollection. Lots of the stories are excellent and brilliantly written, but Zelazny does fall into the classical paradigm of people trying to be taken seriously: He is absolutely unwilling to write a happy ending to anything. Anything! The anthology comprises many, many short stories, which cumulatively become a massive downer if you read too many in a row. Some time in the future, I will again write a massive diatribe about how ludicrous it is that misery is critically acclaimed. Aaaargh. Having said that, the titular story almost breaks that coda, and is really rather stunning in its simplicity, being the last story of Lancelot, a thousand years late. 'For A Breath, I Tarry' is also rather stunning, a future Eden story in fact. Oh, it's a great collection, but you can't read it all in one go, as the cumulative effect of great but sad stories like 'He Who Shapes', 'Damnation Alley', and even 'The Stainless Steel Leech' will leave you ragged.
'Rendezvous In Russia' (2014) by Lauren St John
The final novel in the 'Laura Marlin Mysteries' has been laid to rest, and it was about on a level with the others. It's a solid juvenile adventure mystery geared to the younger end, and it's hard as an adult to really make any kind of judgement. The telegraphing of plot points is very strong, which makes it a bit of a problem, and the depiction of Russia is a bit hard to reconcile with what we're presented (distorted or not) in the news, but it's still solid. It's a ridiculously tidy and neat ending, though. All in all, a good set of books to keep around if you're a sometime English tutor. You will read these, little people, and this other pile too! Get to it! Grraaaaa!
'The Lost World' (1912) by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Oh, that cheeky Arthur Conan Doyle, fooling us with all those historical novels and Sherlock Holmes mysteries, before blowing the doors off with this genre giant, 'The Lost World'! Dinosaurs! Ape men! Lost plateaux in the Amazon! It's a grand old adventure, in the same field as 'Journey To The Centre Of The Earth', but not quite on that exalted level. The social changes in the intervening century have made the hunting aspect of the story much less acceptable, even though it was a radically different thing at the time than the industrial hunting we have now. Also, attitudes towards hired native help and stereotypes have changed, but you have to take the rough with the smooth. There be dinosaurs here! For all the cliches, Zambo was an excellent guy.
'Star Trek: Probe' (1992) by Margaret Wander Bonanno
The 'Star Trek' novels really degenerated into a tick box exercise of filling in continuity gaps and interlinking things that didn't need to be connected after a while, but this was before all that. This is 'Probe' by the excellent Margaret Wander Bonanno (who wrote a few more sterling Trek novels besides this), a sequel to the events of 'Star Trek IV' and in many ways a complement to the much maligned 'Star Trek V' as well as providing a further thread feeding into 'Star Trek VI'. It still feels like its own entity, somehow, despite even probably referencing the Borg. 'Probe' succeeds by telling a simple story that is consistent in terms of character, tenor and 'Star Trek' in general, without feeling at all derivative or forced. Yes, there is that plethora of connections, but they're incidental. It's entirely credible that that giant probe from 'The Voyage Home' would return to investigate the mystery of the disappearing and reappearing whales. It would have to travel from somewhere, so why not have it traverse the Romulan Star Empire, and coincide with a fragile Romulan peace initiative? As 'Star Trek' novels go, this is one of the good ones. Bonanno could indeed write.
'The Stainless Steel Rat's Revenge' (1970) by Harry Harrison
We're a little out of sequence here, having read this second 'Steel Rat' novel after the third ('The Stainless Steel Rat Saves The World'), but it doesn't seem to make a huge difference. This is much better than its successor, mainly due to doing one thing coherently instead of zapping around in time and doing three things less well. Or, to be fairer, this one lives up to its potential better. Slippery Jim DiGriz is swiftly pushed into marriage with his true love, the ex-homicidal and currently very pregnant Angelina, before being pressed into a special and very perilous mission by the Special Corps. Can he stop a new star empire expanding just by himself? There is the usual amount of humour, the usual cavalcade of gorgeous (but not gratuitously described) female characters, and the plot that is a level above what you would expect of a comedic science-fiction novel. Therer's still a lot of drug-related behaviour and plot development, though, which was symptomatic of the times. I imagine that they thought that all kinds of things would be safely achieved via pharmaceutical constructions at the time. What a different world, and a different attitude! In any case, this series is so far recommended. What will happen with the fourth instalment, though?
O.
'Spend Game' (Lovejoy) (1981) by Jonathan Gash
A grand improvement. It's not entirely clear why it's a big improvement, but my best guess would be the departure from formula and the continued effort spent in integrating the differing continuities of the first few novels as we get into this fourth episode in the 'Lovejoy' stories. On the other hand, it's a bit swearier, which counts against it. The mystery is much more mysterious, with a red herring detail that I followed down a rabbit hole, and has a nice bit of psychology making Lovejoy's situation much more perilous than any of the previous entries. Very good. Bring on some more of the series! Crikey, there should be some description of the story, perhaps? Lovejoy is drawn into a mystery sounding the death of an old army mate, literally dumped in the road in front of him, and his connections to a strange railway enigma. Yes, railways are involved, making a double hook. Ah...
'The Last Defender Of Camelot' (1980) by Roger Zelazny
This is not to be confused with the much later collection of the same name but different contents, This 'The Last Defender Of Camelot' was read over such a long period, that the earlier portions are now lost in a hazy recollection. Lots of the stories are excellent and brilliantly written, but Zelazny does fall into the classical paradigm of people trying to be taken seriously: He is absolutely unwilling to write a happy ending to anything. Anything! The anthology comprises many, many short stories, which cumulatively become a massive downer if you read too many in a row. Some time in the future, I will again write a massive diatribe about how ludicrous it is that misery is critically acclaimed. Aaaargh. Having said that, the titular story almost breaks that coda, and is really rather stunning in its simplicity, being the last story of Lancelot, a thousand years late. 'For A Breath, I Tarry' is also rather stunning, a future Eden story in fact. Oh, it's a great collection, but you can't read it all in one go, as the cumulative effect of great but sad stories like 'He Who Shapes', 'Damnation Alley', and even 'The Stainless Steel Leech' will leave you ragged.
'Rendezvous In Russia' (2014) by Lauren St John
The final novel in the 'Laura Marlin Mysteries' has been laid to rest, and it was about on a level with the others. It's a solid juvenile adventure mystery geared to the younger end, and it's hard as an adult to really make any kind of judgement. The telegraphing of plot points is very strong, which makes it a bit of a problem, and the depiction of Russia is a bit hard to reconcile with what we're presented (distorted or not) in the news, but it's still solid. It's a ridiculously tidy and neat ending, though. All in all, a good set of books to keep around if you're a sometime English tutor. You will read these, little people, and this other pile too! Get to it! Grraaaaa!
'The Lost World' (1912) by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Oh, that cheeky Arthur Conan Doyle, fooling us with all those historical novels and Sherlock Holmes mysteries, before blowing the doors off with this genre giant, 'The Lost World'! Dinosaurs! Ape men! Lost plateaux in the Amazon! It's a grand old adventure, in the same field as 'Journey To The Centre Of The Earth', but not quite on that exalted level. The social changes in the intervening century have made the hunting aspect of the story much less acceptable, even though it was a radically different thing at the time than the industrial hunting we have now. Also, attitudes towards hired native help and stereotypes have changed, but you have to take the rough with the smooth. There be dinosaurs here! For all the cliches, Zambo was an excellent guy.
'Star Trek: Probe' (1992) by Margaret Wander Bonanno
The 'Star Trek' novels really degenerated into a tick box exercise of filling in continuity gaps and interlinking things that didn't need to be connected after a while, but this was before all that. This is 'Probe' by the excellent Margaret Wander Bonanno (who wrote a few more sterling Trek novels besides this), a sequel to the events of 'Star Trek IV' and in many ways a complement to the much maligned 'Star Trek V' as well as providing a further thread feeding into 'Star Trek VI'. It still feels like its own entity, somehow, despite even probably referencing the Borg. 'Probe' succeeds by telling a simple story that is consistent in terms of character, tenor and 'Star Trek' in general, without feeling at all derivative or forced. Yes, there is that plethora of connections, but they're incidental. It's entirely credible that that giant probe from 'The Voyage Home' would return to investigate the mystery of the disappearing and reappearing whales. It would have to travel from somewhere, so why not have it traverse the Romulan Star Empire, and coincide with a fragile Romulan peace initiative? As 'Star Trek' novels go, this is one of the good ones. Bonanno could indeed write.
'The Stainless Steel Rat's Revenge' (1970) by Harry Harrison
We're a little out of sequence here, having read this second 'Steel Rat' novel after the third ('The Stainless Steel Rat Saves The World'), but it doesn't seem to make a huge difference. This is much better than its successor, mainly due to doing one thing coherently instead of zapping around in time and doing three things less well. Or, to be fairer, this one lives up to its potential better. Slippery Jim DiGriz is swiftly pushed into marriage with his true love, the ex-homicidal and currently very pregnant Angelina, before being pressed into a special and very perilous mission by the Special Corps. Can he stop a new star empire expanding just by himself? There is the usual amount of humour, the usual cavalcade of gorgeous (but not gratuitously described) female characters, and the plot that is a level above what you would expect of a comedic science-fiction novel. Therer's still a lot of drug-related behaviour and plot development, though, which was symptomatic of the times. I imagine that they thought that all kinds of things would be safely achieved via pharmaceutical constructions at the time. What a different world, and a different attitude! In any case, this series is so far recommended. What will happen with the fourth instalment, though?
O.
Saturday, 8 September 2018
Television: 'The Man From UNCLE: The Mad, Mad, Tea Party Affair' (1965) (Aired 1x18, Produced 1x21)
We return to UNCLE after missing 'The Secret Sceptre Affair' due to it being a bit dull. In the series's defence, it would be practically impossible to make twenty-nine episodes in a season and not have a few duller entries in the back half of the run. There are also some very good shows in that back half! Barbara Feldon will be appearing soon...
'The Mad Mad Tea Party Affair' has an interesting twist on the Involved Innocent conceit as well as a standard version, and is actually one of the cutest episodes of the season. 'Tea Party' begins with an ordinary looking man (Richard Haydn) launching a model plane in a park and watching it fly away, describing it as a 'sort of' suicide mission to some helping youths. The plane crashes into UNCLE headquarters, with the written message 'Boom! You're dead!' in the wreckage, and so the misadventures begin. Later on, there will be guppies. You have been warned.
Haydn's mischief maker is swiftly joined in the bystander stakes by a goofily deeply voiced Zohra Lampert as the woman he shoves through the secret UNCLE entrance at Del Floria's in order to occupy the agents' time while he probes their security at Mr Waverley's (who was trapped in a bathroom without his pipe, egads) request. The actual villainy of the episode is a plot by THRUSH (including the extremely beautiful Lee Meriwether briefly) to disrupt a vital diplomatic meeting at headquarters. How do the diplomats get in? Is there an official entrance somewhere? We never get the answers! An explosive conference table and a mole within UNCLE comprise the villainous scheme, but in an era of mass smoking, was it wise to make the detonators ash trays?
It's a great cast, Lampert's odd delivery not withstanding, and Waverley demonstrates his deep organising power yet again. Oh, and the cool factor is back again. We get all of this while almost never leaving the standing UNCLE sets, which makes this a very ambitious bottle episode. Bottle episodes are our friends, and always have been. There's something very powerful about winding up your actors, and letting them loose in a set with a well-written script.
We have a clear run to the end of the season now, people. Let's have fun with it!
O.
'The Mad Mad Tea Party Affair' has an interesting twist on the Involved Innocent conceit as well as a standard version, and is actually one of the cutest episodes of the season. 'Tea Party' begins with an ordinary looking man (Richard Haydn) launching a model plane in a park and watching it fly away, describing it as a 'sort of' suicide mission to some helping youths. The plane crashes into UNCLE headquarters, with the written message 'Boom! You're dead!' in the wreckage, and so the misadventures begin. Later on, there will be guppies. You have been warned.
Haydn's mischief maker is swiftly joined in the bystander stakes by a goofily deeply voiced Zohra Lampert as the woman he shoves through the secret UNCLE entrance at Del Floria's in order to occupy the agents' time while he probes their security at Mr Waverley's (who was trapped in a bathroom without his pipe, egads) request. The actual villainy of the episode is a plot by THRUSH (including the extremely beautiful Lee Meriwether briefly) to disrupt a vital diplomatic meeting at headquarters. How do the diplomats get in? Is there an official entrance somewhere? We never get the answers! An explosive conference table and a mole within UNCLE comprise the villainous scheme, but in an era of mass smoking, was it wise to make the detonators ash trays?
It's a great cast, Lampert's odd delivery not withstanding, and Waverley demonstrates his deep organising power yet again. Oh, and the cool factor is back again. We get all of this while almost never leaving the standing UNCLE sets, which makes this a very ambitious bottle episode. Bottle episodes are our friends, and always have been. There's something very powerful about winding up your actors, and letting them loose in a set with a well-written script.
We have a clear run to the end of the season now, people. Let's have fun with it!
O.
Tuesday, 4 September 2018
Book: 'The Rainbow Trail' (1915) by Zane Grey
This is impressive, maybe just as impressive as the first half of the story, which was contained in 'Riders Of The Purple Sage'. 'The Rainbow Trail' (TRT) is a great example of successfully looking at the end of one story, asking 'what if?', and actually producing a good second part. There are few examples of that being done successfully... No, 'Riders' is probably a bit better but simultaneously denser and more difficult, so there are checks and balances in play. All together, it's a grand (unplanned?) two-part story.
TRT is a great Western epic, which spans a year of narrative, or more, and is centred around an ex-preacher called John Shefford. His quest is to discover the fate of the mismatched trio of Lassiter, Jane and little Fay following the events of the first novel, where they were walled into the mini-paradise that was Surprise Valley as an escape from their Mormon pursuers, vengeful at Jane for abandoning her creed. We get more criticism of the Mormons here, such criticism being common for the period, but with more nuance as the youngest generation of that creed perform far more admirably according to the lights of the story.
While 'Riders' was more of a siege story, this is a road novel, with a mock trial and an escape punctuating the two parts of the journey. Shefford is an interesting protagonist to follow in his journey, morphing as he does from a confused ex-preacher through several states. However, the really interesting character is Nas Ta Bega, his Navajo soul brother, who helps and guides him, and who is suffering for the slow demise of his nation. Joe Lake, the allied Mormon, is also a good character to bring in, proving as he does that progress is going to be made. The Shefford story is intertwined with the much shorter (in pages, not time) story of Fay, imperilled in her own little drama, which is in many ways a complement to the whole story. In fact, every other character's story is a complement to Shefford's.
The strengths of TRT are the incredibly wonderful descriptions of the terrains and landscapes of the story, the sparsely written but well defined characterisations, and a great sense of wonder and danger in the wilderness and canyon country.
Very recommended, except for some ant-related peril. Yikes.
O.
TRT is a great Western epic, which spans a year of narrative, or more, and is centred around an ex-preacher called John Shefford. His quest is to discover the fate of the mismatched trio of Lassiter, Jane and little Fay following the events of the first novel, where they were walled into the mini-paradise that was Surprise Valley as an escape from their Mormon pursuers, vengeful at Jane for abandoning her creed. We get more criticism of the Mormons here, such criticism being common for the period, but with more nuance as the youngest generation of that creed perform far more admirably according to the lights of the story.
While 'Riders' was more of a siege story, this is a road novel, with a mock trial and an escape punctuating the two parts of the journey. Shefford is an interesting protagonist to follow in his journey, morphing as he does from a confused ex-preacher through several states. However, the really interesting character is Nas Ta Bega, his Navajo soul brother, who helps and guides him, and who is suffering for the slow demise of his nation. Joe Lake, the allied Mormon, is also a good character to bring in, proving as he does that progress is going to be made. The Shefford story is intertwined with the much shorter (in pages, not time) story of Fay, imperilled in her own little drama, which is in many ways a complement to the whole story. In fact, every other character's story is a complement to Shefford's.
The strengths of TRT are the incredibly wonderful descriptions of the terrains and landscapes of the story, the sparsely written but well defined characterisations, and a great sense of wonder and danger in the wilderness and canyon country.
Very recommended, except for some ant-related peril. Yikes.
O.
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