see also: socks, knocked off
10 Jan 2007 08:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaigouThree books down. Do not shoot me for third one nor check to see if blog has been hacked! I'll explain in review. Minimal spoilers.
Breaking Rank, Norm Stamper (nonfiction). Both autobiography and critical analysis, this is fascinating reading about one life-long police officer's (and police chief's) attempts to modify and improve the american criminal justice system in terms of the cop's role. While his fundamental conclusion is that it's the laws themselves (often contradictory, complex, and constantly shifting) that undermine a cop's ability to do his/her job, he also talks about how he's seen things made better, where it worked and why, and where it didn't work and why. He covers everything from gun control to women's roles on the police force to homophobia to spying on citizens to community involvement.
There were a few points where I'd be willing to bet what we're getting is a bit of vitriol, masked as best as an editor could manage, with a reformer's bitterness at how some tries were undermined by the brass (or by politics) to the detriment of public safety. And I'd also be willing to bet that this was a police chief who didn't lower his voice in every meeting, either, but for the majority of the essays/book, it's some solid conjecture and theory based on thirty years in the force.
Stamper was police chief during the Seattle WTO riots, and he resigned shortly after that; the book does tend to belabor Seattle's preparations for WTO (and the fiasco during), and at times it felt like he was taking a few swipes at his counterparts, or justifying as best he could after events, though I get the impression few were interested in the police perspective in the days afterwards, although they'd done the best they could. What saves that section -- indeed, every section -- is that he gives solid suggestions on what he'd do differently, or better, and lays out a gameplan and/or advice.
His best sections, I think, are those where he touches on spouse-battering, drug use/drug war, homophobia, racism, and women's roles; he started as a cop in the early 60s so he's seen the gamut from then, to now, and knows we've come along way but still have awhile to go. His experiences and stories -- and some pretty honest gut-wrenching admissions about his own demons -- are honest and forthright, and sometimes damn amusing, too.
Path of Honor, Diana Pharaoh Francis (fantasy). This is the second in the Path series, and again the reminder that I don't read a vast amount of traditional fantasy -- defined by me as: other world, magic involved, gods involved, wizards/quasi-medieval setting, and possibly talking animals, all of which the Path series has, though its talking animals are selective in their magical bonding. So it could be we're dealing with tropes, I don't know, but the story works.
Taking the events of the first story, wherein Reisel, a healer, becomes sort of like one of the country's wandering judges/police officers (err, sort of) with magically-bonded goshawk at side, in this story the addition of magic to her skill set has set a chasm between herself and her fellow wandering justices. What few know is that her magic's receeded, unstable and ineffective and untamed; meanwhile, the various ilk who don't like her -- the nobles, two neighboring countries' own wizards, her fellow justices -- are trying to kill her, though she's not sure which. That's the gist of the conflict, being a middle book (so you know there'll be something close to a cliff-hanger near the end, although it wasn't as bad as I'd expected).
In the first book of the series, the touch was lighter, the conflict more distanced: save the country from plunging into war, which meant saving one kidnapped woman whose death would end any truce-possibilities between the hosting country (where she'd been taken) and the neighboring country. Okay. All well and good, and I won't spoil the first one, but let's just say anything that happened off-screen in the first one? So not off-screen in this one: Francis pulls no punches. Oi! I was skimming paragraphs and that's saying something, at some points. Seriously not pulling those punches.
The arc is also fleshed out, thanks to moving out of just Reisil's head into a variety of characters, each getting time and attention and motivation, which may make for fewer surprises but far more suspense. And not all the characters on Reisil's side like each other, either; this time around, Reisil does find a few more things about herself, has greater (if unmanageable) strength/power, but still not a Mary Sue. First, not all the men are hopelessly in love with her; some ignore her flat out, others might've loved her once but that's overshadowed by their current choices or loves or whatever -- same for her, in return. These are not fifteen-year olds, convinced they'd just die if they don't have their Wun Twu Wuv.
One of the things that really delighted me -- okay, maybe I'm strange this way -- after the first book being so solidly and continually in Reisil's (okay, I can't spell, where's the damn book, guh, already in the packed section of my suitcase, grrr, someone correct me) POV, where was I, right: I wouldn't say Reisil is feminine in a girly-girl way. She's pragmatic, practical, the kind to look for "what do we do about it" rather than "who do we blame" or even "wah, woe is me" (which is good or I would've been unhappy), but she's still... her voice is very, hrm, discreet. It's almost clinical at times, but that makes sense: she's been trained as a healer, and if you've ever watched nurses or doctors, they have an amazing ability to register (like artists do, come to think of it) that you are naked but you are never nude to them, simply more flesh visible, and it's not you, it just is. So when Reisil describes a situation -- especially when it concerns her, or she's the focus or the one feeling it -- there's always a mild, cataloging distance. She doesn't feel her hair burning from her scalp, she simply smells burning hair (you can almost read between the lines to hear her thoughts: strange, wonder what that is, oh, burning hair, how peculiar).
Now, contrast that with a sentence in this book -- the first instance, I should say, of this type of change in voice -- that made me sit up: His balls shriveled. Let's face it, folks, I've known guys who've explained their reaction to certain people, places, things, experiences, with just those words. Like something's trying to crawl up inside you, and in Reisil's mildly-distanced healer's tone, it wouldn't have worked. But this story, thanks to this kind of almost visceral element, works even stronger than the first in the series -- it's gutsier, too. Still not my genre, but it seems (looking back over the books I have read, over the years) that traditional fantasy still keeps the truly pungent stuff at bay: we get the scents and sounds of a city, maybe the edges of torture, but we don't get the very singular personal reactions when an otherwise grown man feels his innards turn to water and his balls try to crawl up inside him. There were a lot of places in the story where the voices felt so...I don't know, strong? Clear? that it gave the unpulled-punch that much more gutwrench, and really showed an author's growth, which in turn lent the story even more strength.
So I guess that's a lot of talk about the story's voice, but I should also note that the increasing range of voices carrying the story -- no longer just one protag -- thicken the complexity a great degree. That appeals to me; I don't mind one-voice stories, in some ways (some work better that way), but if you want serious intrigue and suspense and omg what's going to happen, we readers need to know what the bad guy is planning. We need to see that, and be scared on the protag's behalf. Francis managed that, I think; I don't stay up until 2am with jetlag continuing to read just because I can't think of anything better to do...
I'll try to sum up, but it's not easy, but I'll use small words so I understand what I'm saying: the king has gone into seclusion; his sociopathic son is hammering for the throne as regent while dear old dad is nowhere to be found. Meanwhlie plague and unnatural beasts cover the land, and neighbors have either turned on the country or are blockading it to prevent plague from spreading to their lands. Some of the nobles will swear fealty to the next king/regent, regardless; others may revolt. The regent-to-be hates Reisil and her kind; Reisil's kind hates her. There really isn't a great deal of lovin' going on in this story, and most of what little there is, is tinged with bittersweetness. It's very much a growing-up book, in ways the first was, but wasn't to this extent. If that makes sense.
Unfortunately, only a bit is resolved, and even that, not fully, and the story ends on a hopeful note with Reisil getting her own (to some degree) but there's one more in the series to go... and even more unfortunately, I figured, hey, I've got all these other books to read, I won't bring the last in the series. Guh, I suck. So you'll have to wait until I get home and read the final to hear more. Err, read more. Right.
Shadow Touch, Marjorie Liu (paranormal romance). That's right, romance. STOP LAUGHING. I read a frickin' romance book. SHUT UP. I only have it because I got it free at World Fantasy con, and believe me, if I'd not had this business trip, I don't know if I would've ever read it. I mean, the cover! It just screams romance, and it doesn't fit the book at all. Now, if it'd had a strong woman looking at me, rather than with her head tilted back and neck exposed, but looking at me, staring me down, and maybe profile of a guy in the shadows, I might've said, okay, darkness, implied not-quite-human stuff here, some fantasy elements, I've snatched it up, I think. But the cover -- right, and that Liu's known more in romance circles -- had me cringing.
Until yesterday evening, when I really wasn't in the mood for the other stuff I'd brought, and what the hell, I'd give it a chance. And I am NOT making this up: I was hooked in two paragraphs. HOOKED, I tell you, but that's more like describing obsession as "I think it's okay." I was up until two. AGAIN. I tore through the book so fast, omfg, this is romance? I kept checking the name on the cover, just to make sure someone hadn't slipped me a mickey or a strong thriller-fantasy-crossover or something. Because the cover just screams hokey romance (at least without the busting bustiers and excessive man-titties, but still, it's hardly strong-woman look) and what's inside? Snark, danger, a woman with both quirk and self-awareness and the strange kind of humor we all have under the worst of circumstances when it's either laugh or go mad.
The gist is this, a la X-men (in a way): there are folks with talents unlike 'normal' humans: psychometry, telepathy, empathy, even shapeshifting. Elena is a healer, able to slip into people's bodies and 'feel' her way to helping them heal, with a particular affinity for dealing with cancerous growths. Meanwhile, Artur is (won't go too much into spoilers, but let's say he's Russian with a violent past) able to pick up memories from touch, and is slowly going crazy from it. Both are kidnapped by some organization determined to use the two for its own ends; when their paths cross, Artur is pretty much about to not just pop a blood vessel but his entire brain from overload, and Elena saves him.
But what really brought me over to her? She's kidnapped in the prologue, just after saving a child from cancer. When she wakes up, the drugs and whatnot else in her body give her the heaves. She has no idea where she is, where she's being taken, and the orderlies pushing her wheelchair won't speak to her. So when she feels ill, she makes a point of vomiting on them. Keeps score on herself, even. I mean, what's not to like? What's not to love, even? This woman might not be able to take down entire vampire hordes, but she's snarky, strong, resilient, determined, and yet falliably and vulnerably human.
Not a single instance of drooping femininty, or heaving bosum, or guy-all-stoic-and-strong, and I was frickin' WATCHING for it, baby! I was ready to say, hah! You think you fooled me, but I see you there, miz fancy-pants romance writer, you can't fool me! And that point never came. I was bitterly disappointed, which is naturally why I kept reading -- because if at any point there was the chance of one character building up another in their head (the story switches back and forth exclusively between Artur and Elena), the next scene would show the other character processing, and all of Artur's stoicism (in Elena's observation) would become stark raving terror, just as scared as she was, and just as helpless. It humanized them both.
Thing is, the story is tight, too, not just a simple boy meets girl, boy loses girl, girl gets killed in teeth of combine engine. More like, I don't know, boy meets girl, girl saves boy's life, boy loses girl, boy gets girl, girl tells boy where to get off and saves boy's ass again, and so on. And the best part when they finally get together (at least for me, as an adult with some savvy on these things), it's not perfect. It's close, it's good, but hardly perfect; in fact, Artur doesn't quite... well, let's say it's been awhile. Score for the imperfect first time. And by that time -- even with all the other non-human, impossible goings-on, and the lingering effects of Elena saving Artur's ass several times (and then chewing him out quite well for it, too) -- I really did believe these two didn't just like each other, or need each other in a bad symbiotic way, or just feel lust, but had genuine respect and interest and care with each other.
Plus, I really liked the fact that Artur's character development was to recognize that being teh strong silent type? Not so great a type. Really. Goes great in books, not so great in real relationships.
And finally, somewhere, I read a list of Things You Do Not Do In Romances. One of them -- I won't say, because it'd be a massive spoiler -- well, Liu breaks it. She doesn't just break it, she smashes it into tiny little pieces and then, just as you think, wah, she takes the little pieces and jumps up and down on them. And it's GOOD, baby. And it's frickin' ROMANCE and I just went and bought two more in the series (the first, and the third). I was seen in the ROMANCE section today. CRIPES.
I feel like I should write a letter to Liu that consists of nothing more than a stick drawing of me shaking my fist, with a little bubble that says, "if my reputation is ruined and people think I've gone over to the dark side of fantasy because they saw me buying your books, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT."
Yeah. Something like that. Excuse me, I really need to find out what happens in chapter four, now.
Breaking Rank, Norm Stamper (nonfiction). Both autobiography and critical analysis, this is fascinating reading about one life-long police officer's (and police chief's) attempts to modify and improve the american criminal justice system in terms of the cop's role. While his fundamental conclusion is that it's the laws themselves (often contradictory, complex, and constantly shifting) that undermine a cop's ability to do his/her job, he also talks about how he's seen things made better, where it worked and why, and where it didn't work and why. He covers everything from gun control to women's roles on the police force to homophobia to spying on citizens to community involvement.
There were a few points where I'd be willing to bet what we're getting is a bit of vitriol, masked as best as an editor could manage, with a reformer's bitterness at how some tries were undermined by the brass (or by politics) to the detriment of public safety. And I'd also be willing to bet that this was a police chief who didn't lower his voice in every meeting, either, but for the majority of the essays/book, it's some solid conjecture and theory based on thirty years in the force.
Stamper was police chief during the Seattle WTO riots, and he resigned shortly after that; the book does tend to belabor Seattle's preparations for WTO (and the fiasco during), and at times it felt like he was taking a few swipes at his counterparts, or justifying as best he could after events, though I get the impression few were interested in the police perspective in the days afterwards, although they'd done the best they could. What saves that section -- indeed, every section -- is that he gives solid suggestions on what he'd do differently, or better, and lays out a gameplan and/or advice.
His best sections, I think, are those where he touches on spouse-battering, drug use/drug war, homophobia, racism, and women's roles; he started as a cop in the early 60s so he's seen the gamut from then, to now, and knows we've come along way but still have awhile to go. His experiences and stories -- and some pretty honest gut-wrenching admissions about his own demons -- are honest and forthright, and sometimes damn amusing, too.
Path of Honor, Diana Pharaoh Francis (fantasy). This is the second in the Path series, and again the reminder that I don't read a vast amount of traditional fantasy -- defined by me as: other world, magic involved, gods involved, wizards/quasi-medieval setting, and possibly talking animals, all of which the Path series has, though its talking animals are selective in their magical bonding. So it could be we're dealing with tropes, I don't know, but the story works.
Taking the events of the first story, wherein Reisel, a healer, becomes sort of like one of the country's wandering judges/police officers (err, sort of) with magically-bonded goshawk at side, in this story the addition of magic to her skill set has set a chasm between herself and her fellow wandering justices. What few know is that her magic's receeded, unstable and ineffective and untamed; meanwhile, the various ilk who don't like her -- the nobles, two neighboring countries' own wizards, her fellow justices -- are trying to kill her, though she's not sure which. That's the gist of the conflict, being a middle book (so you know there'll be something close to a cliff-hanger near the end, although it wasn't as bad as I'd expected).
In the first book of the series, the touch was lighter, the conflict more distanced: save the country from plunging into war, which meant saving one kidnapped woman whose death would end any truce-possibilities between the hosting country (where she'd been taken) and the neighboring country. Okay. All well and good, and I won't spoil the first one, but let's just say anything that happened off-screen in the first one? So not off-screen in this one: Francis pulls no punches. Oi! I was skimming paragraphs and that's saying something, at some points. Seriously not pulling those punches.
The arc is also fleshed out, thanks to moving out of just Reisil's head into a variety of characters, each getting time and attention and motivation, which may make for fewer surprises but far more suspense. And not all the characters on Reisil's side like each other, either; this time around, Reisil does find a few more things about herself, has greater (if unmanageable) strength/power, but still not a Mary Sue. First, not all the men are hopelessly in love with her; some ignore her flat out, others might've loved her once but that's overshadowed by their current choices or loves or whatever -- same for her, in return. These are not fifteen-year olds, convinced they'd just die if they don't have their Wun Twu Wuv.
One of the things that really delighted me -- okay, maybe I'm strange this way -- after the first book being so solidly and continually in Reisil's (okay, I can't spell, where's the damn book, guh, already in the packed section of my suitcase, grrr, someone correct me) POV, where was I, right: I wouldn't say Reisil is feminine in a girly-girl way. She's pragmatic, practical, the kind to look for "what do we do about it" rather than "who do we blame" or even "wah, woe is me" (which is good or I would've been unhappy), but she's still... her voice is very, hrm, discreet. It's almost clinical at times, but that makes sense: she's been trained as a healer, and if you've ever watched nurses or doctors, they have an amazing ability to register (like artists do, come to think of it) that you are naked but you are never nude to them, simply more flesh visible, and it's not you, it just is. So when Reisil describes a situation -- especially when it concerns her, or she's the focus or the one feeling it -- there's always a mild, cataloging distance. She doesn't feel her hair burning from her scalp, she simply smells burning hair (you can almost read between the lines to hear her thoughts: strange, wonder what that is, oh, burning hair, how peculiar).
Now, contrast that with a sentence in this book -- the first instance, I should say, of this type of change in voice -- that made me sit up: His balls shriveled. Let's face it, folks, I've known guys who've explained their reaction to certain people, places, things, experiences, with just those words. Like something's trying to crawl up inside you, and in Reisil's mildly-distanced healer's tone, it wouldn't have worked. But this story, thanks to this kind of almost visceral element, works even stronger than the first in the series -- it's gutsier, too. Still not my genre, but it seems (looking back over the books I have read, over the years) that traditional fantasy still keeps the truly pungent stuff at bay: we get the scents and sounds of a city, maybe the edges of torture, but we don't get the very singular personal reactions when an otherwise grown man feels his innards turn to water and his balls try to crawl up inside him. There were a lot of places in the story where the voices felt so...I don't know, strong? Clear? that it gave the unpulled-punch that much more gutwrench, and really showed an author's growth, which in turn lent the story even more strength.
So I guess that's a lot of talk about the story's voice, but I should also note that the increasing range of voices carrying the story -- no longer just one protag -- thicken the complexity a great degree. That appeals to me; I don't mind one-voice stories, in some ways (some work better that way), but if you want serious intrigue and suspense and omg what's going to happen, we readers need to know what the bad guy is planning. We need to see that, and be scared on the protag's behalf. Francis managed that, I think; I don't stay up until 2am with jetlag continuing to read just because I can't think of anything better to do...
I'll try to sum up, but it's not easy, but I'll use small words so I understand what I'm saying: the king has gone into seclusion; his sociopathic son is hammering for the throne as regent while dear old dad is nowhere to be found. Meanwhlie plague and unnatural beasts cover the land, and neighbors have either turned on the country or are blockading it to prevent plague from spreading to their lands. Some of the nobles will swear fealty to the next king/regent, regardless; others may revolt. The regent-to-be hates Reisil and her kind; Reisil's kind hates her. There really isn't a great deal of lovin' going on in this story, and most of what little there is, is tinged with bittersweetness. It's very much a growing-up book, in ways the first was, but wasn't to this extent. If that makes sense.
Unfortunately, only a bit is resolved, and even that, not fully, and the story ends on a hopeful note with Reisil getting her own (to some degree) but there's one more in the series to go... and even more unfortunately, I figured, hey, I've got all these other books to read, I won't bring the last in the series. Guh, I suck. So you'll have to wait until I get home and read the final to hear more. Err, read more. Right.
Shadow Touch, Marjorie Liu (paranormal romance). That's right, romance. STOP LAUGHING. I read a frickin' romance book. SHUT UP. I only have it because I got it free at World Fantasy con, and believe me, if I'd not had this business trip, I don't know if I would've ever read it. I mean, the cover! It just screams romance, and it doesn't fit the book at all. Now, if it'd had a strong woman looking at me, rather than with her head tilted back and neck exposed, but looking at me, staring me down, and maybe profile of a guy in the shadows, I might've said, okay, darkness, implied not-quite-human stuff here, some fantasy elements, I've snatched it up, I think. But the cover -- right, and that Liu's known more in romance circles -- had me cringing.
Until yesterday evening, when I really wasn't in the mood for the other stuff I'd brought, and what the hell, I'd give it a chance. And I am NOT making this up: I was hooked in two paragraphs. HOOKED, I tell you, but that's more like describing obsession as "I think it's okay." I was up until two. AGAIN. I tore through the book so fast, omfg, this is romance? I kept checking the name on the cover, just to make sure someone hadn't slipped me a mickey or a strong thriller-fantasy-crossover or something. Because the cover just screams hokey romance (at least without the busting bustiers and excessive man-titties, but still, it's hardly strong-woman look) and what's inside? Snark, danger, a woman with both quirk and self-awareness and the strange kind of humor we all have under the worst of circumstances when it's either laugh or go mad.
The gist is this, a la X-men (in a way): there are folks with talents unlike 'normal' humans: psychometry, telepathy, empathy, even shapeshifting. Elena is a healer, able to slip into people's bodies and 'feel' her way to helping them heal, with a particular affinity for dealing with cancerous growths. Meanwhile, Artur is (won't go too much into spoilers, but let's say he's Russian with a violent past) able to pick up memories from touch, and is slowly going crazy from it. Both are kidnapped by some organization determined to use the two for its own ends; when their paths cross, Artur is pretty much about to not just pop a blood vessel but his entire brain from overload, and Elena saves him.
But what really brought me over to her? She's kidnapped in the prologue, just after saving a child from cancer. When she wakes up, the drugs and whatnot else in her body give her the heaves. She has no idea where she is, where she's being taken, and the orderlies pushing her wheelchair won't speak to her. So when she feels ill, she makes a point of vomiting on them. Keeps score on herself, even. I mean, what's not to like? What's not to love, even? This woman might not be able to take down entire vampire hordes, but she's snarky, strong, resilient, determined, and yet falliably and vulnerably human.
Not a single instance of drooping femininty, or heaving bosum, or guy-all-stoic-and-strong, and I was frickin' WATCHING for it, baby! I was ready to say, hah! You think you fooled me, but I see you there, miz fancy-pants romance writer, you can't fool me! And that point never came. I was bitterly disappointed, which is naturally why I kept reading -- because if at any point there was the chance of one character building up another in their head (the story switches back and forth exclusively between Artur and Elena), the next scene would show the other character processing, and all of Artur's stoicism (in Elena's observation) would become stark raving terror, just as scared as she was, and just as helpless. It humanized them both.
Thing is, the story is tight, too, not just a simple boy meets girl, boy loses girl, girl gets killed in teeth of combine engine. More like, I don't know, boy meets girl, girl saves boy's life, boy loses girl, boy gets girl, girl tells boy where to get off and saves boy's ass again, and so on. And the best part when they finally get together (at least for me, as an adult with some savvy on these things), it's not perfect. It's close, it's good, but hardly perfect; in fact, Artur doesn't quite... well, let's say it's been awhile. Score for the imperfect first time. And by that time -- even with all the other non-human, impossible goings-on, and the lingering effects of Elena saving Artur's ass several times (and then chewing him out quite well for it, too) -- I really did believe these two didn't just like each other, or need each other in a bad symbiotic way, or just feel lust, but had genuine respect and interest and care with each other.
Plus, I really liked the fact that Artur's character development was to recognize that being teh strong silent type? Not so great a type. Really. Goes great in books, not so great in real relationships.
And finally, somewhere, I read a list of Things You Do Not Do In Romances. One of them -- I won't say, because it'd be a massive spoiler -- well, Liu breaks it. She doesn't just break it, she smashes it into tiny little pieces and then, just as you think, wah, she takes the little pieces and jumps up and down on them. And it's GOOD, baby. And it's frickin' ROMANCE and I just went and bought two more in the series (the first, and the third). I was seen in the ROMANCE section today. CRIPES.
I feel like I should write a letter to Liu that consists of nothing more than a stick drawing of me shaking my fist, with a little bubble that says, "if my reputation is ruined and people think I've gone over to the dark side of fantasy because they saw me buying your books, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT."
Yeah. Something like that. Excuse me, I really need to find out what happens in chapter four, now.
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Date: 12 Jan 2007 02:50 pm (UTC)Good luck. I know if I hadn't been there when the post started, I wouldn't be reading through it now. LOL.