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4 Sep 2006 12:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaigouFinished The Lies of Locke Lamora, Scott Lynch. Got it in hardback (a rarity; I prefer quality over trade or hard), but it was worth every penny. A few stylistic issues, though I'll admit it took me nearly half of the book to finally peg what had been tugging/bothering me (if mildly). Overuse of the verb+name combination, as in, "blah blah," said So-and-so, "blah blah," demanded So-and-So. Also, three italics in one paragraph does not mean emphatic to me; it reads like an overly melodramatic character and I have real trouble believing the guy should be taken seriously. Kids, distraught people, and nimwits get to use italics that much. Any other character should stuff it, and let the weight of the word choices indicate strength.
Lastly, there's a certain speech pattern that shows up in four different characters, and it's quite marked; I don't know if it's on purpose, but when they're talking together, it makes them all read the same: "It's, ah, the carriage." That "ah" for "uh" or "uhm" is a speech pattern I dislike in myself and others, and I dislike it especially so in reading unless you can convince me that this character is either the only one who's going to bug me in this way (and thus make the annoying habit into a verbal tic that makes the character recognizable even without tags), or that there's some clear reason for the pattern in that context. I would've preferred, at the very least, a bit more continuity between the contexts to identify a pattern, or at least some variance between the three or four characters using the pattern. It was, incidentally, the only verbal speech tic I noticed.
So, that said: BUY THIS BOOK. Damn, it's fast, it's furious, it's hysterical at times, it's got some of the most entrancing and amusing and scary-funny badass thieves I've read in a long, long time (and strangely, the Gentlemen Bastards remind me of the gang from Sneakers, of all things: good at what they do, and enjoying every minute of it). Best part? Magic did not solve the problems. There was no secret potion or special object or fancy jewelry that made it all right, no special words, just a whole lot of brain power and some fast moving and thinking and sheer cussedness to win the day.
The book can be summed up like this: group of thieves are trained by mentor to be con-men, grifters, not your everyday sneak-thief pickpockets, but a group that walks the edge of shapeshifting in its uncanny skill to pick up/put down roles, but there's planning and practice and work for each job. Then along comes someone to mess up the delicate balance of their world, threatening (and then taking out) the godfather-like Barsavi, and it all goes to hell in a handbasket. Locke gets double-crossed, triple-crossed, beaten-up, attacked, unmasked, thrown out, thrown down, put up, hung up, dangled, and drowned.
The bad guys exact a price that's sometimes too hard to bear, but the bottom line is this: at each point, you're going to think, no, there's no way in hell these guys are getting how of that one. And Locke, too, is saying this, but then he goes in, notes the opportunities, takes them, and it all makes sense. It's probable, it's believeable (as long as I'm willing to believe he's a good conman, which I was within the first chapter), and it's all quick thinking and fancy footwork and a bit of mislead and Locke's out the door with the canary between his teeth, pulling it off once again.
The entire book, really, is a series of building "how the hell is he going to get out of that one?" moments, and it really makes me wonder what Lynch has up his sleeve if the book is supposed to be the first of seven. Plus, there's some hints near the end that make me wonder just what the future holds, and there are other parts (like Locke's reportedly well-known hungupedness on a certain lady) that are never really explained. It was excellent.
I started to read Bring it On, by Laura Ann Gilman, after reading Butcher's third Dresden book, but I put Gilman down within the first ten pages, read the fourth Dresden book -- picked up Gilman again, put her down, read all of Lynch, then here I am again. I like Wren Valere, the main protag, and while the sex scenes are a little detailed for being marginally superfluous (thank you, Luna imprint, division of Harlequin), I really like the series and want to enjoy it. But if I get even one more paragraph of "what happened in the previous books," I'm going to start banging the book against hte desk in hopes all the flashbacks and filler-explanations fall out and leave me with just the good stuff.
Mind you, I read the second book in the series back in...the spring, I think? Something like that. So you might think I need the refresher, but I'm finding it tedious and repetitive. Okay, yes, I got it, could we get on with the story, please? In some ways, it's starting to feel like the "thick" plot might not be that thick -- or wouldn't the author be doing something other than filling the pages with just flashback-reminders of How Thick It Is? Stop telling me what happened then; start showing me what's happening now.
Plus -- and this isn't really Gilman's fault per se as it is my own questions/growing weariness about such things -- I'm starting to get annoyed with massive organizations with lots of money that are supposedly so hush-hush that no one knows. Come on, people, the CIA had an office in Reston for years, labeled as an accounting firm, and everyone knew it was CIA. It was like such a non-secret-secret, it was a local joke. Yes, there are some things that remain secret to we civilians (like what exactly when on inside the walls of that 'secret' CIA campus), but it's not that we're ignorant of the organization itself -- and those organizations that are truly, truly secret have some kind of muscle to keep it so. The Masons, secret? Sure, except that I have a box's worth of texts and books from them, inherited from my grandfather; the Masons have never shown up to wrestle it out of my hands, nor will they, nor will any other 'secret' fraternal organization of their ilk. It takes power, and money, and a healthy dose of fear to manage that, and only the government is big enough or broad enough to manage. So private organizations running under government radar? Fat frickin' chance.
I'm also getting bored with clean social lines: over there are the people who joined the HOA, the Council, the Order, the Whatever-Fancy-Name-You-Pick, though I think Homeowner's Association works just as well. And over here are the individuals! the independents! the freethinkers! the ones who question!
*bangs head on desk*
This isn't just Gilman, mind you, and I think she does a good job of casting ambiguity over this distinction -- as best she can given the trope -- but I'm seeing it everywhere. I could forgive it in Lynch's world, though, because I have heard of Capone, and Hoffa, and other godfather-like types, and a character who brutally slaughters his opponents and accepts fealty from the beaten, okay, godfather, gotcha. In the modern world of NYC, or DC, or LA, etc, wholesale slaughter of your opponents is going to attract some kind of attention, either overt or subvert. We can track people to the minute on their credit card expenditures; making people simply 'disappear' is a lot harder than it once was. (This is much of the reason I dislike vampire stories; they don't seem willing to address the question of what happens when the bodies pile up, hello, you think no one is going to notice?)
I think of immigrants, really, when I think of things like councils and independents: some folks arrive with what's on their back, and they go to the local godfather, beg for help, cry about the hardship, promise to work hard, and off they go to some menial job. Those who arrive with more don't need this intervention; they have jobs and skills, but what they don't have is connection with the Old World, anymore than their poorer counterparts. The British clubs in Shanghai, the expats in Australia who celebrate Independence Day in Sydney with fireworks and barbecue despite the 30F temperatures: we all look for pieces of home, familiar voices and behaviors, something to make us comfortable in the midst of so much alien. For that, I can see the Council/Order/Etc being more of a social organization, a place where middle-class ex-pats, over time, have learned to associate good times and comfort zone.
That, though, is hardly on the level of muscle required to keep something secret, and on top of that, why would you keep it secret -- at least from those inside your scope. Those outside are usually well aware of the existence, as much as Restonites knew about the CIA building, or downtown folks knew about the observation deck on Ninth and F. If you keep it secret, you're potentially blocking out new members, and lacking major muscle and/or legal standing to enforce your social expectations, new members and a larger membership is the route to power of any kind. And even that might be illusory: for instance, to say, if you 'make it' as an immigrant, you may join us in our Special Events, because only those above a certain class-level join these expats, buddy. Hell, the Council/Order/Group snubbing a hard-working new-rich immigrant is one of the more powerful ways to muscle on the social group, and that doesn't require muscle so much as having people know you exist, and attenuating power to your existence.
Hrm, lots to think on, but first, I must wash the dog.
Lastly, there's a certain speech pattern that shows up in four different characters, and it's quite marked; I don't know if it's on purpose, but when they're talking together, it makes them all read the same: "It's, ah, the carriage." That "ah" for "uh" or "uhm" is a speech pattern I dislike in myself and others, and I dislike it especially so in reading unless you can convince me that this character is either the only one who's going to bug me in this way (and thus make the annoying habit into a verbal tic that makes the character recognizable even without tags), or that there's some clear reason for the pattern in that context. I would've preferred, at the very least, a bit more continuity between the contexts to identify a pattern, or at least some variance between the three or four characters using the pattern. It was, incidentally, the only verbal speech tic I noticed.
So, that said: BUY THIS BOOK. Damn, it's fast, it's furious, it's hysterical at times, it's got some of the most entrancing and amusing and scary-funny badass thieves I've read in a long, long time (and strangely, the Gentlemen Bastards remind me of the gang from Sneakers, of all things: good at what they do, and enjoying every minute of it). Best part? Magic did not solve the problems. There was no secret potion or special object or fancy jewelry that made it all right, no special words, just a whole lot of brain power and some fast moving and thinking and sheer cussedness to win the day.
The book can be summed up like this: group of thieves are trained by mentor to be con-men, grifters, not your everyday sneak-thief pickpockets, but a group that walks the edge of shapeshifting in its uncanny skill to pick up/put down roles, but there's planning and practice and work for each job. Then along comes someone to mess up the delicate balance of their world, threatening (and then taking out) the godfather-like Barsavi, and it all goes to hell in a handbasket. Locke gets double-crossed, triple-crossed, beaten-up, attacked, unmasked, thrown out, thrown down, put up, hung up, dangled, and drowned.
The bad guys exact a price that's sometimes too hard to bear, but the bottom line is this: at each point, you're going to think, no, there's no way in hell these guys are getting how of that one. And Locke, too, is saying this, but then he goes in, notes the opportunities, takes them, and it all makes sense. It's probable, it's believeable (as long as I'm willing to believe he's a good conman, which I was within the first chapter), and it's all quick thinking and fancy footwork and a bit of mislead and Locke's out the door with the canary between his teeth, pulling it off once again.
The entire book, really, is a series of building "how the hell is he going to get out of that one?" moments, and it really makes me wonder what Lynch has up his sleeve if the book is supposed to be the first of seven. Plus, there's some hints near the end that make me wonder just what the future holds, and there are other parts (like Locke's reportedly well-known hungupedness on a certain lady) that are never really explained. It was excellent.
I started to read Bring it On, by Laura Ann Gilman, after reading Butcher's third Dresden book, but I put Gilman down within the first ten pages, read the fourth Dresden book -- picked up Gilman again, put her down, read all of Lynch, then here I am again. I like Wren Valere, the main protag, and while the sex scenes are a little detailed for being marginally superfluous (thank you, Luna imprint, division of Harlequin), I really like the series and want to enjoy it. But if I get even one more paragraph of "what happened in the previous books," I'm going to start banging the book against hte desk in hopes all the flashbacks and filler-explanations fall out and leave me with just the good stuff.
Mind you, I read the second book in the series back in...the spring, I think? Something like that. So you might think I need the refresher, but I'm finding it tedious and repetitive. Okay, yes, I got it, could we get on with the story, please? In some ways, it's starting to feel like the "thick" plot might not be that thick -- or wouldn't the author be doing something other than filling the pages with just flashback-reminders of How Thick It Is? Stop telling me what happened then; start showing me what's happening now.
Plus -- and this isn't really Gilman's fault per se as it is my own questions/growing weariness about such things -- I'm starting to get annoyed with massive organizations with lots of money that are supposedly so hush-hush that no one knows. Come on, people, the CIA had an office in Reston for years, labeled as an accounting firm, and everyone knew it was CIA. It was like such a non-secret-secret, it was a local joke. Yes, there are some things that remain secret to we civilians (like what exactly when on inside the walls of that 'secret' CIA campus), but it's not that we're ignorant of the organization itself -- and those organizations that are truly, truly secret have some kind of muscle to keep it so. The Masons, secret? Sure, except that I have a box's worth of texts and books from them, inherited from my grandfather; the Masons have never shown up to wrestle it out of my hands, nor will they, nor will any other 'secret' fraternal organization of their ilk. It takes power, and money, and a healthy dose of fear to manage that, and only the government is big enough or broad enough to manage. So private organizations running under government radar? Fat frickin' chance.
I'm also getting bored with clean social lines: over there are the people who joined the HOA, the Council, the Order, the Whatever-Fancy-Name-You-Pick, though I think Homeowner's Association works just as well. And over here are the individuals! the independents! the freethinkers! the ones who question!
*bangs head on desk*
This isn't just Gilman, mind you, and I think she does a good job of casting ambiguity over this distinction -- as best she can given the trope -- but I'm seeing it everywhere. I could forgive it in Lynch's world, though, because I have heard of Capone, and Hoffa, and other godfather-like types, and a character who brutally slaughters his opponents and accepts fealty from the beaten, okay, godfather, gotcha. In the modern world of NYC, or DC, or LA, etc, wholesale slaughter of your opponents is going to attract some kind of attention, either overt or subvert. We can track people to the minute on their credit card expenditures; making people simply 'disappear' is a lot harder than it once was. (This is much of the reason I dislike vampire stories; they don't seem willing to address the question of what happens when the bodies pile up, hello, you think no one is going to notice?)
I think of immigrants, really, when I think of things like councils and independents: some folks arrive with what's on their back, and they go to the local godfather, beg for help, cry about the hardship, promise to work hard, and off they go to some menial job. Those who arrive with more don't need this intervention; they have jobs and skills, but what they don't have is connection with the Old World, anymore than their poorer counterparts. The British clubs in Shanghai, the expats in Australia who celebrate Independence Day in Sydney with fireworks and barbecue despite the 30F temperatures: we all look for pieces of home, familiar voices and behaviors, something to make us comfortable in the midst of so much alien. For that, I can see the Council/Order/Etc being more of a social organization, a place where middle-class ex-pats, over time, have learned to associate good times and comfort zone.
That, though, is hardly on the level of muscle required to keep something secret, and on top of that, why would you keep it secret -- at least from those inside your scope. Those outside are usually well aware of the existence, as much as Restonites knew about the CIA building, or downtown folks knew about the observation deck on Ninth and F. If you keep it secret, you're potentially blocking out new members, and lacking major muscle and/or legal standing to enforce your social expectations, new members and a larger membership is the route to power of any kind. And even that might be illusory: for instance, to say, if you 'make it' as an immigrant, you may join us in our Special Events, because only those above a certain class-level join these expats, buddy. Hell, the Council/Order/Group snubbing a hard-working new-rich immigrant is one of the more powerful ways to muscle on the social group, and that doesn't require muscle so much as having people know you exist, and attenuating power to your existence.
Hrm, lots to think on, but first, I must wash the dog.
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Date: 4 Sep 2006 09:11 pm (UTC)Di
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Date: 4 Sep 2006 09:17 pm (UTC)This tear-through-the-bookstore is really unlike me, for that reason.
And I do feel bad when I post a review with critiques, because every book I genuinely want to be written well, to live up to the potential in the teaser or first chapter or prequel. But since I also know that despite having varying tastes from those on my flist, I'm in the company of sticklers who give (and expect) more than just: "this happened, and it was cool, I guess."
Plus, I look at reading as a sort of mental exercise. What can I learn from this author? What to do, what not to do? This is a little harder when reading, say, traditional/high fantasy (which isn't my cup of tea for writing), but still, there's always something.
And honestly, I wish I could write a rogue as downright sharp as Locke Lamora. He's not sexy in the classic rogue sense -- just sharp, quick, falliable, but... well, I had a friend who once told me something that could probably apply to Locke Lamora more than just about any other literary character I've read in the past year: "ain't no problem he can't get into that he can't talk his way out of twice as fast."
Lynch definitely raised the bar on conmen.